#and I don't care when she flees from the room all the time when we're just having normal conversations because honestly I'm glad when she's

[frankensteinmutual]

one of my housemates is so fucking sensitive it turns me into a person I do not like

[missmeinyourbones]

hi!!! can i request megumi + "it's okay, we're the best of friends." congrats on the big milestone!! 🤍🤍

IT'S OKAY, WE'RE THE BEST OF FRIENDS (m. fushiguro)

L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

The only sound in your room is the cat clock ticking away on your wall, and you can't even hear it over the obnoxious thumping of your heart inside your throat.

Megumi sits like a statue on the corner of your neatly made bed, as awkward and out of place as he always does.

As if he isn't constantly coming over to your place. Like he doesn’t fall asleep on your couch at least once a week and knows that your shower’s water pressure sucks. That your shampoo is on the left and your conditioner on the right. 

He hasn't said anything, and you know he won't unless you do first, so you brace yourself to be the bigger person—even if you are mentally praying for a satellite to crash into your tiny two-bedroom apartment so you can avoid this stupidly awkward conversation. 

When it's apparent that there's no outside mishap (miracle) coming to interfere, you swallow your pride and open your mouth.

Fuck.  

"Look," you begin weakly, before clearing your throat and trying again, "I'm really sorry about… that."

That being your roommate referring to a blushing Megumi as your boyfriend when he showed up at your place for this week’s movie night.

And in your roommate's defense, it’s not even an unreasonable mistake on her end. You two don't really know much about one another's personal lives outside of work and the occasional passing kitchen conversation. And sure, Megumi visits a lot, and when he's not at your place, you're at his or out somewhere together. You suppose it’s not terribly out of left field for her to assume the two of you are an item.

But you’re not, and it feels like a pretty fucking big deal right now, as the two of you sit in the silence of your bedroom afraid to so much as swallow too loudly in fear of the other fleeing like a deer in headlights.

Megumi shrugs like he doesn’t care, but you both know he does by the way he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt sleeve. 

The action is halfhearted and his silence is so terribly loud that you have the sudden urge to overexplain yourself, so you do. 

"I think she just assumed since we're so close, and you’re always coming over, y’know? Not that that’s a valid reason to assume anything, or that there even is a valid reason at all, but I guess since you're a guy and—"

"It's fine," Megumi answers a bit too quickly. "I mean, we're best friends. People are bound to make that assumption sometimes, right?"

Though clearly flustered, his response is almost automatic, as if he's rehearsed his lines in his mirror for this very moment. It breaks your heart and somehow makes you feel special at the same time. Because sure, he’s letting you down gently, but he’s letting you down, gently. 

Shakily, you exhale and play it cool with a (totally not disappointed) nod, "Right." 

Wrong, your heart aches. It’s not often in your daily lives that people assume the two of you are together.

Or maybe they do, and you don't notice it anymore. Maybe you've become accustomed to the way the waitress at the diner you two go to on the weekend no longer asks if you want separate checks, but instead automatically hands the bill to Megumi and shoots you a wink. You're now immune to the way older couples coo when you two walk the streets, Megumi pushing you to the inner side away from the street. The way guys don’t really flirt with you at bars anymore, the way women no longer ask to pet Megumi’s dogs when you're by his side.

Maybe.

After a moment or two of you being lost in thought, Megumi clears his throat.

He speaks softly and casually, "Gojo does it, too."

His words confuse you, "What?"

Megumi second-guesses his nonchalant tone when he needs to repeat himself. He trips over his own tongue when clarifying, "He thinks—that we're like… together." 

Your throat suddenly feels like you've swallowed sand.

Gojo? The same Gojo who knows Megumi inside out? Who’s known you since you were sixteen years old, who pretended to ignore you sneaking in through Megumi's window and let you steal his cheap alcohol on Friday nights? Gojo thinks the two of you are together? 

"Oh," is all you can muster like a fool, before following it up with a meek, "he does?"

"He’s an idiot,” Megumi scoffs but nods. “Always calls you my girl, which I tell him is stupid and sexist when he literally knows your name, but he never listens." 

The words have your heart by the throat and again, all you can muster is a pathetic, "Really?"

"Yeah," he's not sure what possesses him to go on, but Megumi finds himself continuing. "Even just now when I left, he was on the phone with someone like ‘Megumi's leaving to go to his girl's place,’ or whatever."

The words set you on fire, and you think about how stupid that is. How simple words strung together can have such a huge effect on you. Words that if someone else said would mean nothing, might even make your nose scrunch in secondhand embarrassment. But here they come from Megumis lips, about you, and even if they’re from Gojo they still feel like something raw and buzzing with something sweet. 

"Just—don't feel weird about it, okay?” he feels the need to softly clear the air. “She's not the only one who does it." 

His words dance throughout your body like a drug as they play on repeat in your mind. Not the only one who does it.

Random people on the street. Your roommate. Fucking Gojo. People from all areas of your life, all agreeing that you and Megumi are something more than friends. You don’t know why the thought makes your chest tighten, and you don’t know why you kind of love it.  

"Okay," you breathlessly sigh, though you've barely spoken for the last few minutes.

Megumi echoes your breathlessness when he whispers back, "Okay."

“…”

"So... did you pick a movie?"

[noellawrites]

Troubled Return - Yandere!Rafael Barba x reader

summary: After returning to New York City, Rafael takes you to family court to prove you incompetent of caring for your two daughters.

warnings: toxic relationship, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, talk of mental illness

It had been two years, but somehow stepping foot back in New York City made you feel like you'd never left. Two years since you'd taken little Lucia and your newborn daughter, so young you hadn't even named her.

And now here you were, outside Brooklyn Presbyterian after visiting your ailing mother. You huffed, holding back tears as you attempted to hail a cab. Little Isabel strapped to your stomach as Lucia held onto your leg.

Just as a yellow vehicle was pulling over in front of you, you felt Lucia detach from your leg, causing you to swing around. Suddenly, your breath was knocked out of you completely. Rafael Barba was smirking, holding your--his daughter in his arms.

"Back in New York, huh? You took off without a word. Pretty harsh, taking my newborn from me. I'm glad you're back. It's good to see you again, Lucia. And this one here, sweet Isabel. You look just like me," he grinned, stroking her cheek.

"Papí?" Lucia's small voice asked, confusion written all over her face. She was an intelligent kid, and the resemblance was uncanny.

Rafael nodded, grinning as Lucia wrapped her arms around his neck.

"How dare you?" you hissed, tears now falling freely down your cheeks.

Memories flashed through your brain, things you never wanted to think about again. You at eighteen, first meeting Rafael as an intern and allowing yourself to be charmed by him. The positive pregnancy test and subsequent marriage at age twenty. The abuse, the yelling and fighting and manipulation. Your resignation, the anger of your parents. Little Lucia, screaming for her mommy. Rafael's cold and calculating demeanor. The painful, angry sex whenever he wanted. The second test, terror at the thought of subjecting another child to the lawyer's cruelty. Fleeing the hospital with your two daughters and nothing to your name.

"How dare I? How dare you. Snatching my children from right under my nose, running away without a word. You do know I'll be taking you to court for custodial interference, don't you?" he stated, still holding Lucia in his arms.

"We're leaving. C'mon Luce," you began, attempting to pull her away from Rafael.

"Where will you go? If you leave the city, I'll call SVU and they'll have to detain you. You and the girls can stay with me. Lucia's room is still intact and there's a cradle for Izzy," he stated, taking a step back and raising his eyebrows.

"How did you know? About where I was, about Izzy--"

"You're really asking me that? Let's just take the girls home," he said, leading you towards his apartment.

—

You were sitting in your lawyer, Trevor Langan's office to go over your case before you and Rafael would have to appear in family court.

"I was being abused! I was twenty-two with two kids and an abusive husband, what else was I supposed to do?" you cried.

"I understand that, (y/n). There is no easy way to say this, but since you were married and left the state with your kids to relocate, and you don't have any proof of abuse, Rafael can press charges against you for custodial interference. Legally, he has as much of a right to your children as you do.”

"I thought Liv said you could help me!" you yelled in frustration.

"I'll do my best, (y/n). I'll likely be able to get you out of jail time but we'll have to come to a mutual agreement with Mr. Barba for custody."

"He hit me in front of our daughter! H-he pushed me into a wall when I was pregnant. He trapped me and forced me to quit my job. I can't share custody with him!" you exclaimed.

"We'll work on it, okay? I'll talk to Liv and see if there's anything they can do to help. We'll figure this out, I promise," Trevor explained, putting his hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

"Thank you, Mr. Langan. I really appreciate it," you sighed, shaking his hand and leaving his office.

—

"Despite the crimes committed, I do not wish to press charges against my wife. However, I am asking the state to declare her incompetent on account of mental illness and suspend pending termination of her parental rights. I would like her to be released into my care," Rafael stated, taking a deep sigh as he sat down and unbuttoned his blazer.

"What?" You and Trevor both gasped simultaneously, standing up and looking at each other in shock.

Trevor shuffled through his paperwork as you stood, stunned speechless. Rafael wanted to declare you incapable of raising your daughters? Was this some sort of revenge for running away?

“This file contains documentation of my wife’s history with mental health conditions, which impairs her ability to care for herself and our children. There are also photographs and written statements,” Rafael explained, walking over and handing the file to the judge.

“This is a photograph of her leaving the girls, ages one and three, unattended for several hours. Here is an intake report from the hospital at age twenty-one, while she was still living with me, detailing her self-inflicted injuries. There’s more, I’ll let you take a look,” he stated, stepping back and shooting a quick smirk at you.

“Objection! This is absurd, Mrs. Barba took care of herself and her daughters alone for two years after fleeing a physically and emotionally abusive marriage!” Trevor exclaimed, looking straight at the judge.

“I will need time to look over this file. We will reconvene in an hour,” the judge stated.

—

“Why are you doing this?” you pleaded, walking up to your husband. He stood, sharply dressed as usual, with a grin on his face. He was already preparing to win.

“Between your custody interference, neglect and mental illnesses, I have enough proof to terminate parental rights. I want to see you rehabilitated, not charged. You can be a good mother and wife, I know you can. You just need some help,” he explained, concerned eyes baring into yours.

“You’re sick, Rafael Barba. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughters,” you snapped.

“Too bad you can’t prove anything. Looks like keeping records was a good thing, huh? A perk of having you on my insurance, and being your husband of course. You’ll never be able to get away from me,” he stated, mouth close to your ear. His voice sent familiar shivers down your spine.

Even after Rafael walked away, you could smell his expensive cologne lingering. You should never have tried to outsmart the lawyer. Your fate was sealed, whether you liked it or not.

[frodothefair]

Sometimes I become that middle-aged conservative mom (even though I don't have kids, so I suppose a metaphorical mom) who perennially rants about how nobody appreciates her.

I'm not a saint, after all. I crave a little recognition now and then.

An example, recently, has been my chronically online housemate who continues to struggle with her mental health. (Cut for sensitive material).

She's had yet another meltdown over something that happened on twitter (she's a trans person, so maybe that makes sense), and the only reason yet another hospitalization was averted was that her friend came over and took her to her house for the weekend.

So Mr. Nisilë, said friend, and I have been talking a lot about what we can do to help the housemate, and at one point Mr. Nisilë opined that he wishes he were easier to talk to, that we could have created a more supportive environment and engaged with her more, though coming from him, this is a ridiculous statement -- he can build rapport with anyone, which is why I was drawn to him in the first place.

So I went off on him. I ranted that we had done more than enough in letting her into our home in the first place, because she's not family; she's barely even a friend. That we pay her phone bill every month, and buy her groceries when our other house mate, who pays for the majority of her food, is unable to or is unavailable. That we're ok with her lack of hygiene, the state of the bathroom that's closest to her room, her tone-deaf singing and her random yelling. That we routinely drive her places, because she has no car and does not know how to drive, and neither gas nor time is free. That we're ok with her having hookups in her room with people she meets on apps, that we've seen her through two hospitalizations and two attempts on her life; we've hidden sharps, spoken to hospital staff, driven her to appointments and helped her find resources.

Believe you me, I know of what I speak when I say most people wouldn't do this. When I was ten or so, my mother, younger brother, and I had to flee an abusive situation. We were a respectable family in dire straits, a hardworking mother with two well-behaved children, and we had many friends and acquaintances, but everybody denied us a place to stay for completely BS reasons. The only person who didn't was my grandmother's employer. He was a man with an elderly sick mother, and my grandmother worked as their live-in housekeeper and caregiver. The three of us lived in a tiny bedroom in their home for three months -- the bedroom was meant to be my grandmother's, but she slept on the couch.

That is why I will never begrudge our housemate what I do for her. I will never see her as a burden. But to hear that I haven't done enough when I already have done more than 99.9% of the population would do was extremely upsetting. That's different from seeing her as a burden. I can deal with all of the above inconveniences, but I should still be allowed to be angry with her for not acknowledging my efforts, the fact that she f-cking won the lottery between me, Mr. Nisilë, and our other housemate.

A sarcastic voice inside might say, "well, what, do you want a medal now" for hearing people's problems all day and trying to solve them, for your financial contributions, for helping out another person in need?

Well, you know, maybe I do. I do a lot, and none of it is easy, because I have disabilities of my own. I may have some relative privilege, but also disadvantages in spades, from day one. So maybe a simple thank you would be nice -- explicit appreciation of how nice the house we keep is, the fact that we have enough resources to help out, that we don't care about a lot of things that would have been dealbreakers for other people.

But the thing is, the housemate is hardly capable of such a thing. She has too many troubles in her head to think of others, and that's part of her illness. So maybe it is not fair of me to expect that.

It's just that... They say a good deed is its own reward, but sometimes it does not feel like enough.

[nanomooselet]

Episode Eight: Our Home

When this episode was first airing I saw someone describe it as "com[ing] for your feels with a rusty shiv" and it sure does! It sure does. It'll only get worse from here on out. :D

Little sprouts in their little hats! This scene is so friggin' cute and the show ruins it by cutting straight to the aftermath of the crash. Unfair.

The first time I watched this, I realised that Nai wasn't "evil" from the start. That is, he wasn't always... like he is now. I think he truly loved Rem and Vash, though he might have only realised how much later on. But on rewatch, I also don't think Vash's memories of his childhood with Nai carry the same level of nostalgic longing that Knives does for his memories. In the few short minutes he's being recorded, here are three things that Nai does.

Upset Vash by acting as though food - judging by Vash's reaction - makes Vash less of a Plant.

Play a prank by convincing Rem of something that isn't true.

Show affection to his brother... after Vash goes along with it and Rem falls for it.

I think, for Vash, the discovery they eventually made wasn't so violently unlike what he'd come to expect that he couldn't handle it. Vash believed he could rely on Rem to accept him and that was all he really needed. But what did Nai believe he had? His brother. He could rely on Vash to back him up, to play along, to understand. Vash seemingly being lesser, being other (like Rem) made Nai feel lonely. And though this touches on the manga* more than what we've so far seen in Stampede, I think Knives is far more of an idealist than Vash has ever been, even now.

Vash wants a better world, and he's willing to work for it, to fail, and to try again. He knows what it's like to fall short.

Knives wants a perfect world, and perfection admits no mistakes.

I just damn near made myself cry thinking about Rem and what she considers her mistakes MOVING ON.

THIS ISN'T AN IMPROVEMENT although it is a lovely colour scheme.

When Nai reveals the truth about the crash (or what he believes to be the truth; Knives cannot be relied upon as a source of information even a little bit), Vash flees. He continues to flee; even lying in the sand, it's to seek some kind of escape - not a good kind, but that's what it is. "I want this all to end./I don't want to be here." He can't, of course. Not before humans find him. We're survivors. For all our many faults, evolution didn't select for us giving up or failing to help each other, especially in the wake of such a disaster.

It's true that Brad and Luida aren't initially accepting of Vash, but it's Vash who frames himself in terms of usefulness, echoing Nai. It's Vash who seems to believe he shouldn't live unless he can... somehow make up for what "he" did. Luida doesn't know that. She sees another survivor, wrestling with the same guilt. I think the way she speaks with him may have been how she coped herself - and perhaps the way for Brad too, come to think of it. He acts like a paranoid dick, but when given a lead to pursue, he runs right off to dig through wreckage and bodies for some sign of Rem and finds the only shreds of comfort Vash was likely to get. They both have something to do. While I do wish Vash had chosen to live for the sake of living, I think what's keeping him in that bare little room isn't that he's an unproductive Plant or the hatred of humans (at least not just that). It's a trap he built for himself. As long as he does nothing, he's doing nothing wrong and he's not adding to the burden he already bears. They shouldn't trust him, not after what he did.

So when Luida trusts him to help the dying Plant as Rem's blank ticket story plays, she's making a choice. And that's to allow Vash to make his own choice: to live, even with his guilt.

The montage of him travelling around helping Plants! He teaches people how to take care of them properly! It makes him so happy!

So I really, really hope the speculation is wrong and Vash isn't burning himself out doing that. It seems paranoid, and it doesn't feel intuitively true the way some of my other speculation has, but that might just be wishful thinking. I definitely can't rely on Vash admitting it if it is true. I really hope he has at least one nice thing he doesn't pay for with his blood. :(

When Nai's influence re-emerges, so to does the burden of guilt, death and destruction he represents. It's funny that Brad's impulsive anger and mistrust is what drives Vash to seek his brother out - where Vash is going, he'll find plenty more of that.

One more thing. In the shot where Vash enters the Plant carrier (the city of July, or at least, the site where it'll be built in future), it zooms in to show Nai, standing. But if you look very closely as it does? He's rising to his feet from a kneeling position. I wonder what would have happened if Vash had entered a little earlier?

*Reading Maximum in like two days and then watching the final three/four episodes of Stampede was a terrible idea.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

When You Know, You Know - Ronald Speirs x OC

Summary: A night of drinking with Valerie and the men leads Ron to realise that he's in much deeper than he thought

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption/intoxication

Word count: 2.8k

Tags (Mostly using the taglist from the original fic): @50svibes @cagzzz107 @yentroucnagol @mads-weasley @mrsalwayswrite @dcyllom

A/N: This oneshot is building on from the characters/storyline established in my fic Just Come Home, which you can read in its entirety here. For those of you who have read it already, this is set roughly between chapters 5 and 6. Enjoy!

I can't even tell if this is good, I just needed to write for them again, I miss them so much

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I win again!"

"God dammit!" George Luz cried, throwing down his hand of cards upon the table as Valerie laughed, taking a sip of her drink and revelling in his distress. Easy Company had been in Berchtesgaden for almost a week, and already boredom was beginning to set in, remedied seemingly only by late nights of drinking, card games, and music which they had begun to host almost daily in the huge abandoned hotel at the end of the main street.

The huge dining hall was bathed in a low, golden glow, a refuge from the darkness outside, and a gramophone crackled away in the corner, playing record after record of German music only a few among them could understand. A few portraits of prominent officials hung on the walls - survivors of the initial scourge which had seen the men clear out anything of value - their faces vandalised beyond recognition, drooping unevenly on their hooks. The large, circular tables that had once hosted wealthy guests to the town were now used for rowdy games of all kinds, stacks of empty glasses growing taller by the hour.

It had been almost two hours since Valerie had found herself dragged into one of these games. The men had clearly thought her light competition, but in those two hours, not one of them had won a single round. As the night wore on, and she continued to prevail, they grew only more determined to continue, to find a hole in her strategy to exploit, to finally beat her, for God's sake.

"I mean, Jesus, I just don't understand it," Tab sighed, frowning as he poured himself another glass of whiskey, staring wearily at his own hand in the realisation that he never could have won. "How can you win every goddamn time?"

Val chuckled, patting him on the arm in consolation. "I think it might be time to call it a night, eh gents?"

Luz shook his head. "No. Nuh-uh. We're not leaving until I win."

"You better be careful you don't run outta money first."

Tutting, he reached into his pocket for some more cash. "You better donate this shit to a charity or something when you get home, God knows you don't fucking need it," He lamented, muttering something to himself about big fucking houses and rich fucking parents.

With a grin, she accepted her winnings, sliding the money into the pocket of the coat she draped over the back of her chair. It was not her own coat - none of Valerie's clothes were her own, all of them pilfered from the abandoned closets of rich German wives, fleeing in a hurry with their rich Nazi husbands. But in the grand scheme of things, she hardly felt guilty. "Pleasure doing business with ya, Georgie." Val teased, her tongue drawn between her teeth.

A wide archway separated the main dining room from the smaller, private hall next door - a more intimate space for what had once been the wealthiest of hotel guests, but which now belonged to the officers of Easy Company, a huge central table proving the perfect place for late night games of poker.

Ron stared at the unimpressive cards in his hand, suppressing a frown, his infamous stony gaze playing in his favour once again. He would not win this game, but as long as Harry continued to play as badly as he had so far, he would not lose either. The sound of laughter in the next room pulled his gaze - and there she was. Valerie's face flushed red as she laughed, her cheeks creased as she tilted her head back, George Luz chuckling beside her at whatever he had said that was so damn funny. He wasn't sure he had ever made her laugh like that - but Ron knew he wasn't a funny guy, not like Luz at least. A few months ago, he might have felt the inkling of insecurity bubbling in his chest, but not now. Despite all the things that made him seem so intimidating to the other men, it seemed Ron was stuck with Valerie whether he liked it or not.

He did.

The sound of someone noisily clearing their throat pulled his attention away from the next room, and as Ron looked across the table, he noticed Nixon staring straight at him, brow raised. "Hm?" He asked, mirroring his expression.

"You gonna take your turn?" Nixon asked. "Or you gonna keep staring?"

Ron decided not to acknowledge this second question, instead swiftly taking his turn, placing his cards down forcefully, as if making a performance out of it. He wasn't staring. Just... watching.

In the corner of the dining hall, the record that had been playing stopped with a crackle, and Valerie stood up to change it, sliding her cards into her pocket to prevent Luz from cheating. The man scoffed at the mere suggestion, but they both knew he wasn't above taking a peek. As she neared the gramophone in the corner, Chuck Grant came passing the other way, their shoulders brushing against each other as he headed back to his own table. "Ooh, Val," He spoke, stepping up behind her as she flicked through the box of records. "You gotta try this."

Looking up, she accepted the glass in his hand, stifling a cough after her first sip as the liquid burned her throat. "Oh, fucking Christ, what is that?"

"No idea. Malark's recipe - good though, right?"

"Good, but I think it'll kill me," Val confessed, flicking through the box of records with her free hand.

"That's the spirit," He chuckled, patting her on the shoulder before turning to return to his table. "Drink up."

She grinned as he left, taking another sip of Malarkey's dangerous concoction before selecting a record. Their titles had all been in German, so Valerie had been forced to make a decision based off of the covers alone, and as such was slightly taken aback when upbeat folk music came blasting through the gramophone's horn, although the men around her seemed too engrossed in their games to even notice.

Returning to the table, interrupting Luz and Tab as they talked strategy, she put down her drink, taking a seat. "What's that?" George asked, nodding towards her glass.

"No idea. Malarkey's makin' 'em over there apparently."

He paused momentarily, slowly sliding his cards into his pocket as if Val actually needed to cheat to win. "...Don't mind if I do."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Just over an hour had passed since the last time Ron had looked over at Valerie - Harry had lost their last game, predictably, and the officers had been darting between conversation and cards ever since, the energy slowly draining from the room as the night wore on and they began to find it harder to focus on the more technical games. The group had noticed the main dining hall growing steadily louder as the night progressed, but the disturbance had not been enough to warrant their attention until suddenly a smash rang out, accompanied by a series of whoops and laughter.

Craning his neck to see what was happening, Ron's gaze fell upon the portrait of Hitler that Valerie had taken a knife to on their first day in town, his face now stained with dark red wine, a few shards of glass embedded in the canvas. Still seated at her table, Val let out a hearty laugh, her cheeks flushed bright red as if she had caught a chill. But he knew it wasn't that.

Of the men of Easy Company still occupying the hall, not a single one of them appeared sober, the scent of alcohol lingering on the very air. Sitting across the table from Valerie, it appeared George Luz had actually fallen asleep, suddenly roused by the sound of the wine bottle exploding into hundreds of fragments the moment it struck the wall.

"Aw, shit," Nixon sighed. "Looks like they found the good stuff."

Across the room, Skinny Sisk tripped on the edge of a tablecloth that had been left dragging across the floor, tumbling to the ground in a mass of flailing limbs. Val let out a guffaw of laughter, clapping her hands in delight as she slumped further in her seat, reaching for another sip of whatever the hell was in her glass.

"Alright, ok," Ron muttered, rising from his seat and crossing the room in a moment, prying the drink from her hand before it could reach her lips. Val opened her mouth in objection, brow drawn with outrage, but the sudden appearance of the infamous Captain Speirs seemed to sober up the rest of the room, the other men taking the hint to calm themselves and begin shuffling out the door to return to their billets and sleep off their drunkenness.

"I wasn't done with that, yunno," She drawled, barely noticing as Luz drifted away from the table, rubbing at his temples in an attempt to nurse an already developing headache.

"Yeah, you're not gonna be, either," Raising the glass, Ron took a sniff, expression twisting into a grimace. "Jesus. How many of these did you have?"

"I... do not know."

"Hey, Speirs?" Harry called from the next room, clearly impatient to get back to their game.

"Uh, yeah - deal me out, ok? See you fellas tomorrow," He nodded, placing a gentle hand on Valerie's arm to help her to her feet. She swayed slightly, but could certainly walk, and as Ron helped her to the door, he emptied her glass into an unused ice bucket as they passed.

She probably could have made it back up to her room entirely unscathed, even the wobble in her step ebbing away as they exited into the night air, but Ron wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he let her go anywhere alone. "I'm not plastered by the way - I've been plastered, this ain't that."

"Whatever you say," He breathed, arm still secure around her as they descended the front steps to the hotel.

"I'm serious."

"I believe you, dear," Ron nodded, and a giddy grin made its way across her face at the term of endearment. It had slipped out before he could stop it, and he was suddenly grateful for the minuscule chance that she would remember it the next day - he did not in fact believe her.

It was quiet out on the street, the men who had scattered returning promptly to their nearby billets, turning Berchtesgaden back into the ghost town it had been when they had found it. The street lamps cast puddles of golden light as they passed beneath them, his gaze momentarily wandering to Val's face. Her hair had come loose, a strand hanging limply in her face, and the tip of her nose flushed pink in the cool air. Without a word, Ron shrugged off his jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. She did not hesitate to slide her arms into the sleeves, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself, and playing it off as a yawn when she took a deep breath, smelling the scent of his cigarettes that permeated the fabric.

They were mere feet from the front door when Ron felt Valerie slide from his grip, turning to watch as she took a seat on a nearby bench, one foot tucked behind the other, hands in her lap as she looked up at the night sky above.

"Almost there, c'mon," He urged, gesturing for her to follow.

"Come sit down."

Ron didn't move, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Val, come on, you'll catch a cold out here, let's get you insi-"

"Just sit down, Ronald!" Val demanded, almost laughing. She always seemed so ceaselessly amused by him - he wouldn't pretend not to enjoy it, but it struck him as odd sometimes.

Folding his hands awkwardly in his lap, Ron took a seat beside her on the bench, a polite gap left between them. It couldn't have been more than a couple of inches, but it might as well have been a mile for how tempted he felt to move closer.

Her gaze had not shifted from the sky above since the moment he sat down, and after a while spent sitting in silence, he allowed himself to do the same, peering up at the stars above. There was a full moon out that night, hanging like a beacon above them, never quite allowing the town to fall into total darkness as it bathed the ground below in its glow. It was quite marvellous, really.

As weight pressed down on his shoulder, Ron felt his breath catch in his throat, so desperate was he to preserve the serenity of this moment as Valerie leant over, resting her head against him. He scarcely dared more, for fear that he would shrug her off - it was almost comical, the battle-hardened Captain Speirs, who ran past half a dozen tanks at Foy twice over without fear, suddenly paralysed at the prospect of pushing her away.

"Our families are looking at the same moon back home," Valerie said, her voice muffled against the fabric of Ron's jacket as she turned her chin into the collar. "I like thinkin' about that." When she spoke it sounded drowsy, exhaustion tugging downwards at her eyelids.

"C'mon," He urged again, matching her softness. "You can't sleep out here, you'll freeze to death."

Val nodded slowly, her hair catching on his shirt. "That'd be very inconvenient for you."

"Out the the two of us, I don't think I'm the one getting the short end of the stick in this scenario, Val."

"Ah, but you'd miss me," She sighed with a dramatic flourish of her hand, pushing herself up from the bench with a grunt. Ron had not had the chance to stand up himself before Valerie started walking, the sway in her step settled as she confidently made her way down the street.

"You're going the wrong way, dear," He pointed out, gesturing to the front door, mere feet away from them.

"I know that," Val rolled her eyes, turning sharply on her heel and marching up to the front step as he chuckled. Taking the step up, she looked back at him. "C'mere," She ordered.

"What do you want now?" Ron teased, already moving to do her bidding. Taking a step up to stand beside her, they faced each other, shoulders pressed against the front door to the house they were billeted in. Leaning forward, Val pressed her body flat against his, her chin resting on his chest, face tilted up towards him. He could feel her breath, escaping through parted lips and fanning his neck as he peered down at her. Their faces were mere inches apart, and oh, how he had wanted to give in at that moment - give in to the months they had spent together, growing ever more enamoured by her with each passing day. Putting her weight on her toes, she began to push herself up towards him, their lips barely parted, so close their noses brushed against each other.

She was drunk. Ron knew this - could see it in her flushed cheeks, could hear it in her slow words. It would not happen like this. Placing soft hands to either side of her face, he held her back as gently, as tenderly as he could, his thumb skirting across the soft flesh of her cheek as Valerie eased herself back onto her heels, her eyes like dark pools under the light of the street lamp, as wide as he had ever seen them.

"Goodnight Cap'n," Her voice was scarcely a whisper as her hand found the door handle, opening it onto the great foyer inside, the heels of her shoes clacking against the floorboards as she trailed inside. Ron would follow soon - would climb the stairs to his own room along the hall from her own - but for now, he held back, watching on as Val headed upstairs, his jacket still hanging off her back as she disappeared down the hall, the sound of humming trailing after her even after she was gone from sight, fading away with the sound of a closing door. It wasn't until now, when Ron was alone in the foyer, did he realise he was smiling - beaming even. It was very... un-ron-like. But she had wanted to kiss him.

He had done the right thing. He knew this.

But Jesus Christ, was he in deeper than he thought.

[our-transgender-experiences]

Hi Alex. Is it ok to vent a little bit a lot? It's completely fine if you don't post any response, I completely understand. This is a HUGE experience prompt to respond to.

I was birthed with the male sex (he/him) so you can call me that.

Over the past year and two months, I've been feeling just a little off. I keep a journal, and have since before that moment, so I have my experience written down carefully. In short form, I don't know who I am. In a longer form, I'm a weird, cringey high schooler who doesn't know who they are, who wears a galaxy backpack to school, who is agnostic (Christian, but can't prove it right or wrong), aromantic, and asexual. My experience isn't special by any means, in fact, I think I fit literally every queer stereotype known to mankind? Here's the best part: I live in Oklahoma, the famous place of Nex Benedict's horrific death.

About a month ago, I saw "Celeste" in a YouTube video about some of the hardest, but most enjoyable, games of all time. I looked it over, it's on sale for $5, and I'm fortunate enough to be able to afford that. So I got it and finished it within 3 days. I instantly recommended it to my brother, who also happens to be a little queer. He loved it too, but I STILL didn't know the backstory behind that game. Then, I saw the video. It was an amazing reading of Celeste, down to every minor detail of the game. One thing that stood out, was the fact that the both the creator, and the protagonist, were trans women. Even better: it was known for being a wonderful story of the trans experience, and I RELATED TO IT. EVEN BETTER: I had now recommended it to practically my entire friend group, including some incredibly religious people. So what was I gonna do about it? Not care, and continue onto the B-sides.

I want to say 5 days ago was when it really kicked in that "wait a minute, I related to Madeline in a very deep way, and she's a trans..." Now this is the climax, get ready. Because I had been journaling for so long, I had already written about my experience since those early days where I had that so-called dysphoria. And after I realized that could be because I'm trans, I immediately asked my parents what my girl names were before I was born. (doctors didn't know my sex until about two weeks before I was due) "Eden" is a pretty cool name, I guess I'll try it. I walk into my dad's office (works from home) that same day after school, and he immediately turns to me and asks: "So why did you need to know your girl names?" I immediately respond with "... idk?" Very convincing, well done. I text him after I flee to my room, "I'm experimenting, don't take that too seriously" He understands, and I'm at peace. Mom also takes it well, and we're good to actually begin the experiments I was "planning".

First up, change the online bios, like Discord. See how it actually looks on me. AAAAND my best friend sees it within a few hours. Not even prompted, we were talking, playing rocket league, and he just "hey why's your bio say you're experimenting with 'Eden' as your new name?" Explained, but he was in a weird spot. "I'm happy and will support you with whatever you **choose**." Key word there, I'm not choosing anything. I'm actually going with the flow so much more than he could imagine. But okay, we've got a pretty good ally on our side! Going great.

Except here comes "Part of Me" with the anxiety of what could happen, why I shouldn't do anything different around peers, and more importantly why I shouldn't experiment with myself. And to be honest, I believe that part of me. There's so many questions that I ask like "but what if it's all for attention?" or "but you always acted like a boy, why are you changing now? or "maybe the other Christians were right. you are a sinner after all, you're a bad person and you DO deserve to die." You know those.

And with those come the questioning part of it. Am I ACTUALLY just doing what I'm doing for attention? Like I said, I'm a high schooler. I'm a future aerospace engineer for SpaceX, I love computers, and I have top 1% test scores as a sophomore. I'm doing good with school, but that's exactly why I basically have one friend who is also up there with me. I'm not here to brag, I'm here to show that I don't get a lot of attention at school, it's basically all family members who care about me. So again, am I just trying this for attention? I don't think so, but that seems like what my brain would want me to say.

And to be honest, I needed this. I vent every day, but to nobody except Google advertisement algorithms out of Google Docs (my journal). I vent and cry into empty space, but maybe this is finally not just to my phone. This is to another human who I think has had a close experience to mine.

And of course I'm not going to ask you "who am I, who do I like, and what's my gender?" But I am going to ask you one thing: What's your take? I mean this is the trans experiences blog, but I'm not sure if I am a trans. I figured this was the best place to get a good use out of my time. Thank you so much for letting people like me do this, it seriously means a lot.

i'm glad that you feel that this is a space where you can comfortably talk about your experience, and question your gender. My advice, is to keep experimenting,and see where it takes you find out what you're comfortable with, it might take time, and it might change. It took me a while to get to where i am now, and even now i'm not 100% sure. i tried different labels that felt right at the time, but they changed later, and thats okay.

[givehimthemedicine]

why the mothergate opening and the demogorgon's entry could not have been virtually-simultaneous events

(putting this point out solo as background logic for some other gate stuff I'm working on)

so mostly this post is about when this very first scene actually occurs:

I think they want us to think it immediately follows the gate opening scene, but we have some clues that it does not.

Elevator Scientist

Elevator Scientist appears in both water tank flashback scenes.

here he is in the first tank flashback (seen throughout 1x05), the one where El is spying on the Russian and hears demogorgon noises. she screams and bangs on the tank wanting to be let out. we are not shown what goes on outside.

and here he is in the second tank flashback, the 1x06 one, the one where El actually finds the demogorgon, screams, and the mothergate opens.

based on those two guys having the same shirts and ties, these flashbacks would appear to be from the same day.

since we're shown the room full of scientists panicking and scurrying for the exits in this scene, it's easy to figure this is where the Elevator Scientist scene picks up. but let's look closer at:

Elevator Scientist's costume design

do you see my problem with the idea that these scenes happen in fairly rapid succession?

gate:

fleeing:

in his panic, he took the time to unclip his ID - not his keycard, but his ID, which plays no role in his ability to navigate the building - from his outer coat pocket and clip it instead to his shirt pocket? that doesn't make sense. I also am not sure I see the same pens in his pocket.

frustratingly, they don't let us see any more of him in flashback #1, so I can't know whether it matches then. (it doesn't make sense for it to have happened then, but still, I'd like to have seen it.)

the only reason I can think of for moving your ID is if you took your coat off and had to move your ID to your shirt.

time must've elapsed between these scenes, during which ES felt calm enough to still care where his ID was clipped when he removed his coat. he was not in a continuous state of panic from the cracking of the wall to his fleeing.

the different vibe in the tank room

when ES first bursts through the doorway, they let you see just a glimpse of the tank room behind him. it lacks the erratically flashing cold-blue lighting and crowded pandemonium of the gate opening scene, as well as...

the alarm

clips in video form below so you can hear what I mean.

the alarm sounds immediately when El screams and the wall starts cracking. (it's not super prominent in this scene's mixing but you can hear it.)

however, Elevator Scientist scene begins with a long shot of the HNL hallway in silence. only when he bursts out of the tank room door does the alarm begin.

unless that door was 100% soundproof and the alarm was sounding solely inside the tank room. which. I don't know what the point of that would be. the alarm persists all down the hallway to the elevator so I don't feel like that's the case. and according to the massacre, that alarm sounds all over the building.

my point here is that the alarm has not been going off continuously ever since the wall cracked. these are two separate soundings of the alarm, another indication that we are missing some time in between these events.

Brenner and Scientist #1's wardrobe

this guy, named Scientist #1 in the script (ha), is the other guy at Brenner's side during El's tank experiments.

the script says of Brenner: "loose tie, stubble, clearly hasn't slept in some time."

I can't say Brenner actually looks disheveled in the final product. and I also notice Scientist #1, who you'd think would be having a similarly hectic morning, is wearing a different shirt and tie than when the gate opened. Brenner is Steve Jobsing with his black ties in s1 so I can't tell if he changed.

what's that have to do with my proposed missing scene? I guess nothing. perhaps this script detail was truly discarded. perhaps the man simply took a shower the next morning. I'm just looking at this squinty in case this has timeline implications I'll revisit later.

Scientist #1's omitted lines

as they walked into the tank room, Scientist #1 originally had more lines that confirm we're missing a scene:

surely, in all his specificity about where each person was standing, Scientist #1 wouldn't fail to mention that Elevator Scientist was also right next to them. he doesn't, because he's not describing the gate opening scene.

their next dialogue is in regards to whether "it" came from the gate (which we assume to mean the demogorgon, because that's all we had going on in season 1 but hey, who knows). Scientist #1 is clearly referring to an unseen event that happened after the gate opened but before the Elevator Scientist fled.

the moment "it" entered.

this also indicates Brenner was there to see it.

what happened to the other scientists?

we know they didn't all die.

Brenner and #1 obviously survived in their observation chamber (I'm rolling in that sentence like a dog in poop)

@aemiron-main here's some name bullshit for you: I was gonna say that we know Elevator Scientist must be one of the doctors other than Shepherd, because that's the guy who goes into the gate later on:

but actually that guy's name is spelled "Shepard". to be exact he's "Test Pilot Shepard", according to the transcript (I can't find a legit 1x04 script, can anyone hook me up?)

why must we have a Shepherd and a Shepard in the mix. PLEASE can we have normal things. just for a minute. pleeease.

anyway Brenner tells Joyce at the end of 1 that "six people have been taken this week" and Will, Barb, Elevator Scientist, those two hunters, and Shepard make six. so I don't have any solid reason to think any other scientists died in addition to ES. I'm gonna say they fled through other exits and call it a day.

what happened to El?

obviously this didn't make it into the show but:

a shot of the water tank "filled with water but no one's in there" PLEASE BE FOR REAL. Duffers why would you exclude this.

so together with them wanting us to think Elevator Scientist is running from something immediately after the gate opens, the aim of that empty water tank shot would've been for us to wrongly assume El mysteriously vanished from her tank when the gate opened.

whereas really I think El was simply let out during the time they didn't want us to realize was missing.

my reconstruction:

experiment 1. El panics and is let out of the tank, and taken probably either to her room or the infirmary depending how shaken she is.

knowing they're onto something, Brenner summons a bunch more observers and convinces El to go back in the tank later the same day.

experiment 2. the wall cracks, the alarm sounds, everybody freaks, spectators flee. El is let out of the tank again. Brenner either personally escorts El to safety or orders her escorted by orderlies, depending whether El or monitoring the gate is his top priority. (probably the latter)

initial panic dies down, the alarm is cancelled. a core team of scientists remain in the tank room to keep an eye on that crack in the wall - Shepherd, Braun, Wilkins, and Manning in the outer tank room, and Brenner and Scientist #1 in the observation chamber.

they observe the crack - which may or may not already be spreading - for some time on the order of many minutes to some hours. at least enough time for Elevator Scientist to feel warm from the excitement, remove his coat and reclip his ID, then wait around long enough and calmly enough to get cold again, and put his coat back on.

eventually, Brenner and the others witness the demogorgon(?) enter through the gate. somebody sounds the alarm again. they scatter. Elevator Scientist flees and gets yoinked.

this chaos may equal a lack of supervision on El elsewhere in the building, and this could be when she makes her escape.

anyone see any glaring issues, before I build more theory on top of this?

and this is the SIMPLE (single El / single timeline) version mind you

[mydysfunctionalvampirefamily]

Wow status really gives you nice accommodation. Wait they're together? Interesting.

Miles focusing on the bed, to step away from his fucking emotions again.

Miles is bloodbonded to his sire, right?

Wynn is really doing her best to get through to Miles. I think she really got the only angle that might work. Speaking to his protective side, but at the same time it could trigger his oh yes wanna bet?

Oh Wynn, sweet baby. They're doing a good job sussing things out though.

Wait what??? Is Miles suggesting Wynn gets bloodbonded to him??

Miles being a shit to Wynn is kind of comforting.

For fuck sake, fucking Jan Pieterszoon. I dislike him he just feels like such a wimpy guy. He looks ashamed??? What is happening??? Is this real???

Pieterszoon didn't know Miles wasnt given his own room???

Pieterszoon, you're so behind the times. You're telling them stuff they have been knowing for a long time.

I think it's very naive to think you can just de-escalate the sabat thing.

Omg omg his sire is actually telling him they're going to destroy him!!

"I can't let them all die." 😭😭😭 He cares!!!! See Wynn!!!

Wait he is just doing smth useful for the first time, and now he's going to flee?!?!

A new sword? 👀 "hopefully it's deserving of its prince." that is very sweet!

Johnny, you're encouraging Neil a little too much? He's going to lose his mind.

Neil confessing his greatest fear is facing the end of the world all alone. 🥺

William Biltmore?? Isn't he the one that Neil stole a book for?? Johnny is quite famed?? And neat? Lmao I don't think anyone has described Johnny as neat before.

Lmao just all kinds of malkavians in this room with Neil and Johnny just being so confused. 😂

Astral projections too???? Lmaooooo

Noooooo not Quinten😂

Johnny just sitting there like what the fuck?!?!

Neil is doing a good job though talking about gehenna.

Johnny just having no idea what is really going on.

Wait what? Pieterszoon and Vicose? I'm as confused or more as Johnny.

What is Miles planning?? 👀

Consequences? When has Miles ever considered those? He is above them.

Wow, he's going to pass on this? For now? Damn that's impressive. Wynn, good job! You got through to him.

Wait what??? Oh this is good? A bloodbound sword?

So does Neil get the vision of the dragon to prevent it from escaping or to fight it?

Neil loves Wynn so much. 🥺

I'm glad they're figuring it out with Wynn and Miles.

Conversation???? That's what we're calling it now??

Maria is such a bitch omg. Such strong you might be his latest fleeting fancy, but he comes home to me and I take care of him energy.

Oops Maria, seems you're wrong again! Baaaaiiiii bitch!!!

Okay but we have now see 2 ghouls that have hated Britta for what she meant to their idk what you call it dominor? Is that what Lex said?

Of course Britta has sympathy for Maria, she is so sweet.

What????. Oh my God. Pendragon!!!! Showing your cards about Britta to the fucking justicar, because you want her safe?! That is... Wild? Unhinged? Insane?

You're asking her to move in with you?!?!

Okay I'm sorry, you you talked to this woman 5 times? Threatened her life 4 times, got rejected by he once and made out with her for a bit. You're just ready to put your whole life and all on the line? What the fuck. I mean not that Britta is not worth it but this doesn't make any sense? Is this me being ace-adjacent(acejacent if you will)

Show me you're a fucking elder vampire who hasn't had to feel human connection in probably hundreds of years who doesn't seem to have any empathy and isn't used to anyone disagreeing with him and saying it out loud without telling me. "I will send 10 kindred, more experienced than you, in your place, if you're simply worried about them getting the help that they need." No bitch, she wants to be with her fucking family!!!

Please PUHLEASE don't act like you're doing this selflessly for Britta, a gift to her! You're doing this for yourself because you want to keep her!!!

He's gonna make Miles make Britta stay behind. Damn that would be cold and fucked up.

He killed someone for the Ventrue for Britta? Why is that kind of hot???. I hate this. I do not want to think of this fuck like that. 😂 Fuck you Pendragon.

Lmao "Neil never mattered at all." 😂 Okay he earns some points there, that's funny.

Lmao Pendragon is not used to not getting his way, but lbr that is also why he likes Britta.

"you will not have this opportunity again" LIE like you're just gonna let her go. No one believes that.

Britta is just the sweetest most loyal lil bean there is. 🥺

'everyone who cares for you' including you 😏

He said please?!?! Damn. This is serious.

WHAT?!?! Britta you're gonna let this insane man just put his hand on your neck while you basically spit in his face again and reject him?!?! Okay not rejecting because she wants to spend time with him. Yes disobedience Lex that's a good word.

He almost straight up choked her yo. I mean she wouldn't have diednor well he squeezes her head off I guess?? That's messed up. But he did stop himself that has for to mean something.

Wow. Damn, who thought he could say actually say something romantic. Like not scary romantic, or creepy, or manipulative, but just normal romantic. "On every occasion that our paths have crossed, politics, war and secrets have interrupted us. What if just this once we don't let them."

[spinupthepornograph]

here's an idea: the tentacle monsters have started attacking, so everywhere builds shelters to keep them out. When the dimensional barriers get thin, the air raid sirens go off, and everyone retreats to the bunkers. There's a sort of airlock system where they can visually verify who is trying to get in, after a tentacle monster tried fitting into a suit and walking upright as a sort of parody of humans, like three raccoons in a trench coat.

everyone retreats to the safety of the bunkers. at first it was just the women, but a bunch of men learned the hard way that tentacle monsters don't know or care about what gender is, they just like holes. so everyone gets let into the bunkers. They quickly built more bunkers, so there's the new men's bunkers and the older women's bunkers.

The bunkers stay locked the whole time, once the first hour is over, they stay locked the rest of the 24 hours. you can't even unlock them from the inside, not after a foolish person panicked and tried to flee the main seattle bunker, letting in three tentacle monsters.

I walk up to the women's bunker for my city, wearing a kn95 mask. just because we're under attack from alien sex-pests from another dimension doesn't mean covid has gone away. The guards at the airlock pause for a moment: it's 12:57 am, nearly time to close the gates for the night. And one of them, a stocky woman who looks like she lives in a gym, had given me some shit last time for being trans, trying to send me to the men's bunker. I threatened to report her, the law is quite clear, so she let me in, but gave me the side-eye every time.

She discusses something with the other guard, then waves me in. The inner door opens, and I step into the room. It's a big rectangle with a linoleum floor, full of folding chairs and a few desks and beds by the corner. You can tell this place was built in a hurry, and designing something comfortable was last in their mind... just about everything is more comfortable than having all your holes violated by a octopus-xenomorph from beyond space, even if some of the victims report feeling high and blissed-out by the experience. Drug tests found some strange substances in their system: something like MDMA, THC, and weirder chemicals that we're not sure what they do. Apparently the monsters enjoy it more if their victims are enjoying it too, and they're entirely willing to hack our endocrine system to try to make sure we enjoy it.

I look around, and a coworker comes running over. She sees the look in my eyes, and asks what's wrong. I try to scream in reply, and the muffled mumble that comes out only worries her further.

My hands reach up to remove my mask, against all my efforts, and she notices the thin tendril looped around my arms, peeking out of the wrist of my longsleeve shirt. My mask comes off, and like vomit pours out a tentacle.

My white cotton underpants hit the floor as two more tentacles burst out from their hiding places, tendrils that had been sneaking down my legs withdrawing as the puppet's strings are cut. I collapse to the floor as the tentacle monsters burst out, worn out from having an entire set of monsters stuffed into my colon and neouterus and halfway down my throat.

I'm lying on the floor in a haze, tasting bile and alien ooze, as I start to faint. The last thing I see before everything goes black is my coworker being penetrated by the monster that had been down my throat, feeding me oxygen through some kind of internal air-sac. There's screams as the other women futilely try to escape the other two monsters they're trapped in the bunker with.

only 23 hours before the doors open again.

[anamelessfool]

For One Creature's Sake (pt 2 of 2) P1

(AO3 Link) GEN | Primo & Young Copia

Submitted to @cirrus-ghoulette Whump Month Prompt. June 10: "Stay? Please?"

Family Drama, Phobias, Young Characters, Brotherly Affection, Caring, Family Bonds, Time Skips, Sickbed, Hospice Care, Curses, Hurt/Comfort

Even monsters need love, don't they?

PSA in my AU the Ghost Project timeline is much earlier. 1969-1972, 1996--ongoing.

2001

Primo lately had taken on a sallow gray color. The veins radiating from his white Infernal Eye were black, angry, twisting across his face and down his neck and arms like cruel lightning. When Brother Copia had visited him Primo was either boiling hot and soaked with sweat, or nearly frozen to the touch. A few months ago Primo had climbed into bed and since then he had not gotten up on his own.

“Primo?” Copia put on a cheery voice, walking deeper into the room with a tray of food and fresh flowers. “Primo, I’m here! Coming closer.” He narrated his actions, since recently Primo confessed he was losing his sight too. He carried the tray carefully across the room, resting it on the side table. “Lunch, soup and a half cucumber sandwich. All from your garden of course. It’s still doing well. Shall I…shall I help you up?”

“I would like that,” said Primo. He coughed and stirred. Copia pulled him up by the shoulders, adjusting the pillows behind him. Today Primo felt clammy but not uncomfortably so. The man grunted his appreciation, settling into his new upright position. “How are you today?”

“I should be asking you that.” Brother Copia gave him one of his shy smiles. He was a mousey, lanky young brother of sin in his mid-twenties, with a weirdly elegant ski-slope of a nose and a soft smattering of freckles. His fingers twitched excitedly as he spoke. He replaced the wilted flowers on the bedside table with new pink fluffy peonies from Primo’s well-tended garden.

Primo coughed a laugh. “I don’t change too much from day to day. You said there’s soup, sandwich?”

Copia brought the tray to Primo’s lap and cut small pieces of the sandwich for him, putting them in his hand piece by piece, chattering with the older man about the random goings on in the Ministry. What the new gardener was planting, Terzo’s latest weird project. If Sister had finally killed Nihil yet (she hadn’t). Copia carefully helped ladle soup into Primo’s mouth and showed off his little sling bag strapped across his chest.

“Rat carrier. It was crocheted as a gift for me,” Copia explained. He moved the tray of dishes away, and helped Primo wipe his mouth. “By Sister Alice.” He opened the drawstring and a black rat’s head emerged, its nose twitching. Copia scratched the creature’s cheek and it let out an appreciative squeak.

“Oh yes, and how is she?”

Copia frowned and he hoped Primo didn’t notice. “I'm afraid we're no more,” Copia muttered. “She…um…said it was her, not me. I don't really know what that means.”

“You’ll find the one,” Primo said, smiling. “Who do you have with you today, Copia?”

“Aramis,” said Copia. He placed the large black rat in Primo’s lap, guiding his hand to rest on the soft glossy fur. “The largest of the brothers.”

“He is quite a big one!” chuckled Primo.

“He eats Porthos and Athos’ food constantly,” Copia sighed. “But it makes him too sleepy to get into trouble, so it ah…all evens out.”

“You used to be so terrified of rats.”

“I don’t remember ever being scared of them.” Copia watched Aramis in Primo’s hand with fatherly pride. “They have little hands, how could you be afraid of them?”

Primo laughed aloud, and Copia gave him a confused look, but joined in. They shared a few moments of mirth before Primo’s hoarse laughter petered off into rattling coughs. Copia grabbed Aramis, who was fleeing from Primo’s lap, and dropped the rat on his own shoulder. He brought a cup of water over to Primo, helping him drink.

There was a tense silence. Copia pet Aramis, and the rat’s soft fur and happily twitching tail calmed him. But the lingering dark cloud had settled in on their afternoon.

“Secundo is now Papa Emeritus…and it seems like Terzo will be next.” Copia swallowed. “You don’t think Sister would um…would pick me for the Ghost Project, would she?”

“And why not? You have exceptional musical talent, Copia.”

“Yes, but…erm…I don't…I worry—”

“You don't want to end up like me,” Primo interrupted, a sarcastic expression on his face. “Maybe by your time you'll be stronger. More prepared. I lasted longer than the other three before me.”

“Three in eighteen months,” Copia whispered. “One died halfway through a set.”

“And I got through five years,” Primo said. “Some of the greatest five years of my life.” His chest swelled with air, and it seemed like the veins across his body throbbed painfully. “If I could meet my younger self and tell him all that I have accomplished, he would choose the same fate for himself. I assure you.”

“The Ghost Project is…something. We’ve never seen anything like it.” Copia sighed. “Expensive, volatile…dangerous.”

“Yes, it’s the most Papa Emeritus has channeled the Void in centuries. But Sister has a plan. Sister…” Primo turned his head away from Copia, his near sightless eyes distant. He was always terrible at lying. “Sister knows best.”

Copia cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Did you want me to read to you this afternoon? Where were we in the book?” Copia pulled a thin paperback from the side table drawer.

“Frankenstein's bride,” said Primo, his face cracking into a weak grin. “At least I remember that much.”

Copia smiled back, nestling Aramis in his lap. The huge black rat curled up and started to snooze. Copia opened the book, flicking the pages to where they left off. “Ah, yes, this is the monster speaking here… ‘If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be realized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification is small, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me…’’ Primo?” Copia caught his breath in his throat. “Primo, did you…fall asleep?”

“I’m here,” Primo replied. “I'm just…thinking.” He let out a rattling sigh. “Even monsters need love, don't they?”

“Of course.” Copia pet Aramis, smiling. “They need love most of all.”

Primo laid his head back, presumably staring up at the ceiling. It seemed like his mind was far away. Copia's earliest memories was of Primo’s broad smile, his good humor, his laughter. But one day Primo had stopped. Copia distinctly remembered moments where even his child brain felt that something inside his father figure had died. Some gray shadow faded the smile, some occurrence broke a piece of his heart off within him and it had painfully rattled there, trapped ever since.

“I'm sorry, Copia,” Primo finally said, his voice creaking. “I was miles away. You can keep going.”

Copia nodded, settling in. “Well then the monster continues. 'It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.’ “

“I think that is enough,” Primo muttered. “I’m tired. I cannot think about this.” He held out his hand and Copia took it.

“I’ll come by tonight, for dinner? We can finish it then.” Copia carefully herded Aramis back into the pouch, closing the drawstring. He stood up, placing his hand on Primo’s shoulder. Primo looked up, finding his eyes. Copia’s heart dropped but he managed a crooked smile.

“That would be excellent.”

“Would you be interested in coming to my organ practice tonight? If you are up for it.” Copia lowered Primo back onto the bed so he could get his afternoon nap in.

“I will see how I feel. I can have the nurse open the window. I can…sort of hear you play from here.”

“Right,” Copia said, wincing. He started backing away. “I’m leaving now. I hope you rest up. I…I care about you, Primo. Like…like a brother. Like a son.” His stomach turned. The slackness of his father figure, his adoptive brother as he lay there in bed felt like an ill omen. Something in him turned on, dark thoughts lapping at his feet like the encroaching tide. I need to prepare for this. One day Primo won’t be talking back.

He closed the door, and pretended he didn’t feel like the sound reminded him of a coffin lid.

Me on AO3!

If you're up for seeing some 70s era Dark Magic Noir, please subscribe to my AO3 or the "Scenes from the Void" Series there. This fic will be released very soon. Thank you!

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Split up

Previous

When they had got back to the church, they pushed the trolleys up the stairs and into the place.

Abraham was under the bus, fixing it up whilst Rosita helped him.

Sully ran towards Natalia, barking as his tail wagged, but he halted when he sniffed her, walking in a circle as he ran his nose along her legs, trying to work out what it was.

"What the hell happened to you?" Carol asked, looking down at her from the steps, Daryl was smoking, as he leaned against the railing.

"Oh, y'know, just a leisurely swim in walker infested water, that has been brewing for god knows how long, heh, get it, god knows." She pointed at the church. "Anyway, I got a cool jacket." Natalia shrugged, "I'm going to be fishing walker goop out of crevices for a week, and almost got killed cause of a priest, all in a days work."

"What?" Daryl asked, talking to her for the first time in a while, looking around for Gabriel.

"Got scared, shoved me out of his way as he tried to flee, totally bombed it though."

"Did you get hurt?" Carol asked, Daryl was still scanning the brunette, like he was trying to find any injuries.

"Nope, no bites, no scratches, all good."

"Are you sure?" She pressed.

"Yes, you want me to strip so you can check?" Natalia huffed, walking past the pair and heading into the church, Sully walked beside her. "I'm offended people ask me that so often, I can handle myself."

"It's okay to accept the fact that people love and care about you." Carol called after her.

Later that night, when the sun had set, The group sat around the church, enjoying their first proper meal together in a long time, chatting and laughing, enjoying each others company, feeling at peace for the first time in a long time.

Glenn and Tara had formed a game of how high can Sully catch, where they would take in turns throwing a piece of food into the air and see the furthest he could catch it from, the people around them found this pretty amusing, pitying the dog by giving him a spoonful from their own plate, he was definitely enjoying the buffet.

"I'd like to propose a toast." Abraham gathered the rooms attention, standing at the front of the room with a glass of wine in hand.

Michonne and Natalia took their seats beside each other as everyone went quiet, waiting to see what the man had to say.

"I look around this room and I see survivors." He started. "Each and everyone of you has earned that title. To the survivors."

"Survivors! Cheers!" Everyone chanted, raising their glasses.

"Is that all you want to be?" Abraham continued, Natalia knew where this was going, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? 'Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that's just surrender. Now, we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip. Eugene, what's in DC?"

"Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics. Even of this Fubar magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart."

"However this plays out, however long it takes for this restart button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for that little one. Save it so you can take your dog on walks without fear of it ending up something's dinner. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there... who don't got nothing left to do except survive."

Judith began to make noises, as she sat on her fathers lap.

"What was that?" Rick asked her as people laughed. "I think she knows what I'm about to say. She's in. If she's in, I'm in. We're in. Let's do it."

Everyone cheered and clapped for the plan, Sully let out a howl, joining in on the noise, Tara copied the dog, letting out her own howl.

After a while, people gradually went outside, getting some fresh air.

"Has anyone who's gone outside come back yet?" Natalia asked Rick, looking around.

"Sasha went out to look for Bob, said he'd been out for a while." Tyreese weighed in.

"Carol and Daryl's been gone for a while, too." Natalia hummed.

"Alright, me and Tyreese will go look for them, everyone stay here, I don't want anyone else disappearing." Rick said, standing up.

"I'll help." Natalia offered, going to stand up, but Rick stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I need you here, to keep an eye on Gabriel, he does anything, I know you can handle it, we'll find them." He assured her.

"But-"

"Natalia, I need you in here." He repeated.

"Fine, take Sully, he'll be able to sniff them out from anywhere, especially Daryl." She mused, knowing full well how much fond the dog and man were of each other, even if Daryl didn't express it, but she could tell by the way he kept Sully's rabbit in his back pocket If the dog had forgotten it, or dropped it when something else caught his attention.

"We'll take care of him." Rick nodded.

"I know you will." She offered a small smile.

Natalia was sat in a pew, her eyes never left the father, watching his every move, her gun in her hand, resting in her lap.

The other people went about doing their own thing, waiting for the arrival of their family to return.

The doors opened with loud creaks, Tyreese, Rick and Sully returned with Sasha, but no Bob, Daryl or Carol.

Sasha walked towards Father Gabriel.

"Stop." She told the man in a hushed voice.

He stared at her, pausing the motion of pouring himself another glass of wine.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "What are you doing?" She repeated, much more slower, when he had yet to answer. "This is all connected. You show up, we're being watched, and now three of us are gone."

"I..." He started. "I don't... I don't have anything to do with this."

Sasha pulled out her knife, walking towards the man as he backed up.

"Wait!"

"Don't!" Rosita ordered, lunging forward, but Abraham grabbed a hold of her.

"Sasha, put it away." Tyreese told his younger sister.

"Who's out there?" Sasha asked, ignoring the other people in the room.

"I... I don't have anything to do with this." Gabriel put his hands up in surrender.

"Where are our people?"

"I don't have anything to..."

"Where are our people?" Sasha screamed at him.

"Please, I don't have anything to do with this."

Rick pulled Sasha back, taking her place.

"Why'd you bring us here?" He asked.

"I... I... please." Gabriel stuttered.

"Are you working with someone?"

"I'm alone. I'm alone. I was always alone."

"What about the woman in the food bank, Gabriel?" Rick pushed forward. "What did you do to her? "You'll burn for this." That was for you. Why? What are you going to burn for, Gabriel?"

Gabriel had yet to answer him, ticking the man off even more.

Rick grabbed him by the collar, pushing him against the table full of candles.

"What? What did you do?" He shouted, his jaw clenched. "What did you do?" He pushed the man away, taking a step back.

"I lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night." He repeated, breaking down. "I always- They started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before and they were scared. They were- They were looking for a safe place, a place where they felt safe. And it was so early. It was so early. And the doors were still locked. You see... it was my choice. There were so many of them and they were trying to pry the shutters and banging on the sidings, screaming at me. And so the dead came for them. Women... children. Entire families calling my name as they were torn apart, begging me for mercy. Begging me for mercy. Damning me to Hell." He sobbed. "I buried their bones. I buried it all. The lord sent you here to finally punish me." He collapsed to the ground as he continued to cry.

Natalia was feeling more angry by the second, he was the sole reason that countless of families had suffered brutally, because he couldn't be bothered to help them, to offer shelter, and he was feeling sorry for himself?

"I'm damned. I was damned before. I always lock the doors. I always lock the doors."

A whistle sounded outside the church, Sully began barking and howling at the door, Natalia headed towards him, pulling the dog away as Glenn headed for the window.

"There's something... There's someone outside lying in the grass."

Sasha had ran for the door.

"Sasha." Rick followed.

The others chased after them, running outside.

"Oh! Bob!" Sasha shouted, as everyone set their sights on the passed out Bob.

Two walkers were heading for them.

"His leg." Maggie looked in horror, Bob's left leg was missing.

"Get Bob inside. We'll take care of them." Glenn ordered, him heading for the first walker as Natalia ran to the other, her knife pushing into it's eye.

"Can you help me, please? Help me. Help me." Sasha sobbed to Tara, trying to pick her boyfriend up.

"Get inside! Go!"

More walkers were appearing, Rick had started shooting at them as Natalia and Glenn ran back to help everyone with Bob.

"Rick!" Natalia called out, staring at the big red A that was painted on their wall.

"Let's go." He told her, pushing the small woman in the building and locking the door.

Everyone gathered around Bob, he had managed to wake up.

"I was in the graveyard. Somebody knocked me out." He told, once he was able to. I woke up outside this place. It looked like a school. It was that guy, Gareth. And five other ones."

Natalia looked at Rick, they were the ones who demanded to finish it off.

"They were eating my leg, right in front of me. Like it was nothing. All proud like they had it all figured out."

"Did they have Daryl and Carol?" Rick asked in a gentle tone.

"Gareth said they drove off."

"What?" Natalia hissed. Why the hell would they drive off? Unless... that black car.

Bob tried to sit up, groaning in agony.

"He's in pain. Do we have anything?" Sasha asked Rosita.

"I think we have a few pill packets in the first aid kit." Rosita said, getting up to fetch them.

"Yeah." Sasha nodded at her.

"Save 'em." Bob called towards her.

"No."

"Really." Bob sniffled as he sat up, pulling his T-shirt down to reveal a tear of flesh.

Bob was bitten.

"It happened at the food bank." He told Sasha, who stared wide eyed at it.

"It's okay." She whispered, helping him lay back down.

"Bob?" Sasha asked, when he fell. Tara caught his head, so he didn't hit it on the floor.

"There's a sofa in my office." Gabriel offered. "I know its not much, but..."

"Thank you."

"I got him." Tyreese stood up, helping Bob into the office.

Rick and Natalia moved towards the father, seeming to have the same thought.

"Do you know the place Bob was talking about?" Rick beat her to it.

"It's an elementary school. It's close."

"How close." Natalia asked, before he even finished the word.

He hesitated.

"How close?" Rick pushed.

"It's just a 10-minute walk through the woods from here, due south of the graveyard."

Judith started to cry, so Carl carried her into the other room, in her basket.

"Does he have a fever?" Rick asked Maggie.

"He's just warm."

"Jim lasted more than two days before we left him." Glenn remembered.

"Time for a reality check." Abraham called out. "We all need to leave for DC right now."

"No way! Not when Daryl and Carol are missing." Natalia snapped.

"They're gonna be back." Rick agreed. "We're not going anywhere without them."

"I respect that, but there's a clear threat here, to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways."

"Well, bye!" Natalia waved at the large man.

"You leaving on foot?" Rick asked his retreating back.

"We fixed that damn bus ourselves." Abraham turned around.

"There are a lot more of us." Rick marched towards him.

"You want to keep it that way? You should come."

"Carol saved your life. We saved your life."

"Well, I am trying to save yours! Save everyone's."

"We're not going anywhere without our people."

"Your people took off."

"They're coming back."

"To what, picked-over bones?"

"You're not taking-" Rick reached for the man.

"Do not lay your hands!" Abraham grabbed him.

Natalia took her gun off safety whilst Glenn ran over to intervene.

"Abraham!" Rosita shouted.

"Hey, hey, stop! Now!" Glenn came in the middle of the pair, creating distance. "Do you really think that you're gonna be any safer leaving right now, in the middle of the night?" Glenn asked Abraham.

"Yeah." Abraham nodded. "Yeah."

"What about tomorrow? We need each other for this. We need each other to get to DC. We can get through all of it together." Glenn expressed.

"I have an idea." Tara stepped forward. "If you stay here just one more day and help, I'll go with you to DC no matter what." Abraham seemed to think this over, when she turned to Maggie. "Okay?"

"Glenn and Maggie, too."

"No." Rick declined.

"Good luck, then. I'm not interested in breaking up what you have here. Rosita, grab your gear."

"Abraham."

"Now." He ordered. "Eugene, let's go. Eugene. Move it."

"I don't want to." Eugene stayed seated.

"Now." Abraham growled.

"Okay." The scientist whispered, getting up from the pew.

The three moved towards the door.

"You're not taking the bus." Rick told him.

"Try to stop me." He responded.

Rick waited a moment, before walking towards the redhead, who passed his gun to Rosita.

"Hey, wait, wait wait, wait, wait, wait!" Glenn ran forward, breaking them up again. "Hey, hey, hey!"

He looked between the pair before speaking again.

"You stay. You stay and help us, and we will go with you."

"No." Rick refused.

"It's not your call." He looked back to Abraham. "You stay, help us."

"Half a day." Abraham bargained. "Come high noon, we're taillights. I'm not waiting for the other damn shoe to drop."

"And we will leave with you." Maggie spoke up.

"12 hours." He declared. "Then we go." He walked towards the first pew, narrowly missing barging into Rick.

The group gathered around, as Rick hatched out the plan of action to put an end to Terminus as they loaded up guns and got ready for the fight.

"We're in here and they could be anywhere." Rick said. "But we know exactly where they are."

"Plans got stones, I'll give you that." Abraham said.

"Make our move before they do." Glenn nodded.

"That's right." Rick nodded. "They're not counting on us thinking straight"

"But what if that's their idea." Natalia thought out loud. "Draw us out to their spot and leave our vulnerable unprotected, give themselves leverage, just like how they used Carl at the train carts."

"Then we make sure we get to them first, before they get the chance." Rick said. "Tyreese."

"Yeah?"

"You up for this?" Rick asked the man, who looked to be somewhere else.

He didn't answer, their attention moved towards Sasha, who had walked out of the office.

"I'm going with you." She declared.

"You should stay with Bob." Tyreese told her.

"No, I want to be out there. I want to be apart of this."

She didn't give anyone a chance to argue, walking back into the office.

Tyreese went after her.

The group carried on, whilst the siblings spoke in the office.

Rick had took on what Natalia had suggested, Carl, Judith, Gabriel, Rosita, Eugene and Tyreese sat in the office with Bob's passed out body, Sully paced around the room, missing his owner and sensing that something was happening.

If the cannibals were to turn up, they would be ready to deal with them.

The remaining members of the group vacated the church, heading into the woods and towards the elementary school.

When they had got there, the place was empty, no one in sight, a fire was put out recently.

"I knew it!" Natalia hissed.

"Go, lets go!" Rick ordered, and they all ran back towards the church.

They had got back quickly.

Before she was given a chance to get turned down by Rick, Natalia sneaked up the steps and into the open doors, the rest were on her tail, making sure they were deadly silent.

"Are we done?" A man with a hood up asked, he was stood behind Gareth.

"We'll hit the hinges." Gareth said lowly, gesturing for the two people who were stood outside the office to do exactly that.

Before they were given the chance, Natalia shot down the man, than the woman at the door to their people.

"Put your guns on the floor." Rick had walked further into the church, the end of the building looked pitch black to the enemies, not a person was in sight.

"Rick, we'll fire into that office. So you lower your gun..." Gareth pointed at the door.

Rick took aim, shooting the mans two fingers straight off as he screamed in agony.

"Not nice when someone takes your body parts off, is it?" Natalia pouted, staying in the shadow, her gun aimed at the next potential threat.

"Ah!" Gareth whimpered, keeling over.

"Put your guns on the floor and kneel." Rick repeated, walking forwards.

"Do what he says." Gareth groaned.

Natalia put her gun away, taking out her knife as Terminus followed the order.

"Martin there's no choice here." Gareth told the only person who wasn't kneeling.

"Yeah, there is." Martin disagreed.

Abraham stepped towards him, his gun pointed at the mans head.

"Wanna bet?"

He threw his gun down, kneeling.

The group stood in front of the surrendering cannibals, Sasha and Rick had boxed Gareth in as he moved around on the floor, looking at Rick.

"No point in begging, right?" He asked.

"No." Rick breathed.

"Still, you could of killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that."

"We didn't want to waste the bullets." Rick shrugged.

"We used to help people. We saved people. Things changed, they came in and After that I know that you've been out there, but I can see it. You don't know what it is to be hungry. You don't have to do this. We can walk away. And we will never cross paths again. I promise you."

But you'll cross someone's path." Rick said. "You'd do this to anyone, right? Besides, I already made you a promise." Rick pulled out his red handled machete, slashing it into the man's head.

This was the signal, to attack the other terminus members.

Michonne, Sasha, Natalia and Abraham attacked them brutally as the others watched in horror.

Natalia slit one of the men's throat, blood spraying around as she kneed him in the face, letting him fall on his back as he choked on his blood, before ending his misery and stomping hard on his skull, smashing it into brain matter and goop.

The room was silent when they had dealt with every single one, blood, stained the floor of the church pooling on the wood and the carpet, as mangled bodies layed across it.

Michonne had found something among the Terminus's stuff, pulling it out, to reveal her missing sword.

"It could have been us." Rick told the group.

"They gave us a reason, we were just food to them." Natalia agreed, wiping her knife on the dead bodies shirt. "This was self defence."

"Yeah." Sasha whispered, her voice shaking as she took in what she had just done.

Gabriel stared in horror at what had happened in his holy sanctuary, Rick, Natalia, Abraham and Sasha passed him, walking into the office to check on their loved ones.

"This is the Lords house." Gabriel uttered.

"No." Maggie denied. "It's just four walls and a roof."

The sun had rose, and Bob was losing the battle against the fever, everyone gathered around the office to say their final goodbyes.

"You'll always be with us." Maggie told the man. "Part of us." She kissed his hand, smiling at him reassuringly.

"And, if It clears your conscience, I forgive you for the time you went to shoot me." Natalia teased, as they both laughed, smiling at each other.

"I'm glad I didn't." He told her.

The group went to leave the man in peace, Sasha moving towards him.

"Rick." Bob called out to their leader.

Natalia took Judith off his hands, so he could talk to Bob.

"Come here, Judy." Natalia cooed, walking outside the room, Carl beside her.

She sat on the pew, Judith on her lap, and Carl next to her, petting Sully, Judith reached out for the dog, grabbing at his ears.

Natalia wondered if he was reminded of someone else, the same person she was thinking off as she watched the baby interact with the dog, who was gentle and patient as anything, making the little girl giggle as he licked at her hands, that Natalia made sure went nowhere near her face before being cleaned.

"He's good with kids." Carl said.

"He's good with everyone." Natalia smiled. "I got really lucky with him."

"Do you think Daryl and Carols gonna come back?"

"Of course they will, something probably just came up and they had to deal with it, they wouldn't leave us." She tried to reassure him.

Soon enough, noon had come.

Sasha sat by Bob's grave, wearing his jacket as she made sure the cross was tied securely.

Abraham was bidding Rick, Michonne and Natalia goodbye.

"This is our route to DC." He said, handing Rick a map. "We'll stick to it as long as we're able. If not, well, you got our destination. Once Eugene gets to the big brains left up there, things are gonna bounce back. This group should be there for it. You should be there for it."

"They will be." Maggie assured.

"We will." Michonne nodded.

"We will." Rick repeated.

"I guess we will." Natalia joined in.

Abraham nodded, turning around and back to the bus.

"Let's go."

"You both better be safe, save the world for all of us." Natalia told Glenn and Maggie, hugging both of them.

"You better make sure everyone here is alright." Glenn told her, patting her back and stepping away, patting Sully's head.

"Keep her out of trouble." Maggie told the dog, patting his head as well as he let out a woof of agreement.

The DC group got into the bus, as the others stood on the steps of the church.

Rick and Abraham shared another nod before the redhead closed the doors of the bus, setting off on their journey.

At night, Natalia sat on the front steps of the church, keeping lookout, but also wanting to keep an eye out for Carol and Daryl, they still hadn't come back, she missed them both, and was driving herself mad, coming up with loads of different scenarios of what could of happened, if it wasn't for the fact that she had no idea where they could be, she would be out looking for them, she knew that she was being harsh and cold towards the pair, especially with Daryl, but she didn't know how to act around him, after what happened, they were equally mad at each other, how they handled the claimers, and they weren't given a chance to hash it out, but he had made it obvious that he still cared and worried about her, she just couldn't deal with it, when everything was still so fresh, and she could feel the lingering weight, the bruises and cuts on her face still stung, her back was itching as the graze was scabbing over, it was too much, she felt she was suffocating but she didn't have the time to cry for herself, to reflect on the events, Natalia had to push through, put her energy into protecting her friends.

Michonne had come outside, sitting beside her friend, her sword in her lap. Neither woman had to say anything, just sat in each others company as they battled their own thoughts.

Longer into the night, the door opened, Father Gabriel stepped out.

"I can't sleep." He announced, leaning against the wooden rail. "And now, sitting in there... Quiet."

Natalia, nor Michonne answered him.

"It isn't just what happened last night. Saying what happened before out loud, I see it all again. I hear them."

"Yeah." Michonne whispered. "That won't stop."

"But it'll get quieter." Natalia added.

"And it won't be all the time."

A rustling sound cut the conversation.

Natalia jumped up, grabbing her knife, as Michonne slowly followed, signalling to Gabriel to be quiet, who went back inside.

Natalia moved towards the sound, Michonne was right behind her, unsheathing her sword.

They walked towards the trees, where the sound had come from, but not being able to see anything.

Something was emerging from the leaves, coming towards them.

It was Daryl.

Natalia stepped towards him, hitting his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, as he put his arm around her middle, as Michonne laughed, breathing in a sigh of relief.

"Where the hell were you? Where's Carol?" She asked, looking behind him, but not seeing the woman.

Daryl stepped back from Natalia, looking over his shoulder.

"Come on out." He said.

Next

[always-andromeda]

Hi! Could I please have the World Ender prompt for Jay from Okja? Thank you and congrats on 500!

Author’s Note | ahahaha, I didn't expect for this one to make me wanna cry but lmao, I almost did ✌🏻🥲✌🏻

Jay thought every kink had been worked out of the plan. Impulsivity puts him on edge when you're in the field. He hates the deep unease that settles into his bones when you're on your own, fulfilling your own part of the mission. He knows full well that you can take care of yourself, of course. But there are always surprises. That's why improvisation is always key. 

At the very least, you escaped with your life. That's what he reassures himself with as soon as he gets his team out of the botched mission. Housed in a basement of ALF sympathizers, the base that he and his crew flee to isn't one of the more popular ones.

The ceiling is low and dust falls from the rafters, filling the lungs of all the inhabitants and making their throats raspy for days. But Jay is still grateful for even the smallest escape. He helps you lie back on the bottom bed of one of the bunks.

Across the room is the rest of the team. Silver and Blond sit together on a bottom bunk, talking quietly with one another. Red lies on the top bunk, reading one of the many novels she is obsessed with; it's one of the few things that calms her nerves. K is kicked back on the single cot in the room, merely closing his eyes for a second of rest. 

Though Jay knows his whole crew is reeling from the surprise attack by the Black Chalk, the only one on his mind is you. You and the way you've been holding your side ever since one of the Black Chalk men had beaten you with his baton. Jay's jaw goes tight at the memory. Seeing you crumple to the ground, hearing you cry out in pain.

He's reminded of it again when he gently attempts to lift your shirt to inspect the area. Because that's when you wince. You don't even have to make a sound for him to know the pain you're in. In a way, he's proud of you for being able to put on a brave face. At the same time, he wants to rip something apart.

Jay squints through the dim lighting of the basement, only to see faint bruising already beginning to bloom over your delicate skin. The sight fills him with an insurmountable rage. Suddenly, the room is too small to contain him. His breathing gets uneven as he stares, zeroing into the bruises so hard that they begin to go blurry in his vision. I should've gotten to you sooner.

Then you grab his wrist. His fist trembles slightly from how hard he's clenching it. Your first assumption is that he's just disappointed in himself. Though the attack isn't one that he could've planned ahead for, Jay still expects himself to be able to achieve the impossible.

You murmur, "Are you okay, Jay? Do you want me to give you some space?" You try to sit up, holding back the yelp that threatens to escape you when you put pressure on the wound.

In a voice so quiet and calm that it's almost frightening, Jay says bluntly, "I don't want space. That's the last thing I want from you."

Nonetheless, it reassures you. So you settle once more on the thin mattress, staring at the bunk above and only occasionally letting yourself glance over at him for the next minute.

Jay sits on a folding chair at your bedside. And his gaze still hasn't left that spot on your side.

You're hesitant to break the silence but you do it anyway, wanting to give him comfort in whatever way you can. "At least we got out of there." Is all you can manage.

Jay rubs his face frustratedly, "We should have known that the Black Chalk would be waiting. It was naive of us to believe otherwise."

You lay a hand on his knee firmly. "Jay, we used the information we had and did what we thought was best. What matters is that we're safe."

He finally looks you in the eye, his green eyes a blazing forest fire. "If I had lost you–"

"But you didn't," you interrupt quickly, stopping the spiral dead in its tracks. "You didn't. That's all that matters, right?"

He remembers his breathing exercises and puts them to use. You smile slightly and rub his knee when you notice the tension fade with each of his measured breaths. Being so important to a person as passionate as Jay can be bittersweet. His love and his wrath seem to be intrinsically linked with each other, both intense and addicting. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

"That's all that matters." He repeats your words, more to himself than to you. Because sometimes he hates having this life. He believes in his morals with every fiber of his being. But if they ever came at the cost of your life, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

But that day wasn't today. He will adapt. He will get better at trying to predict the end before it comes. He will make protecting you into an art, one that he has perfected. He'll do anything and everything to make sure that nothing like this happens again. That's all that matters. 

[raisindave]

[Chapter 40] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Content Warning: Description of violence and death.

It wasn't worth translating to Soap or Ghost what their zip-tied Tango was saying to them. They probably didn't care to hear the Arabic verbal barrage the man slumped over Soap's shoulder was spewing their way. The way he immediately carried on after Soap threw him onto the back of the dune buggy would almost be funny if it weren't for the deathly serious context. There didn't seem to be any need to clarify where to go either, as they wordlessly whipped the roaring engine back into motion and tore back into the dunes. 

Meanwhile, Laswell had typed walls of text into her laptop, flurrying fingers stopping with a breath. It left you oddly uneasy without the tapping white noise you've become accustomed to. The room felt lighter since there was no longer the fear of the unknown, but now it was the known that lingered in your conscience. A recently evacuated complex and test subjects with fresh bullet holes in their temples. Only by the grace of sheer luck did Farah spot that lone soul fleeing on foot in the desert. Who knows what evidence he hid with those precious seconds before 141 tore through that quarry. It's impossible to know what might've been burned or shredded, and a flicker of a glance at Price's headcam on screen showed him rifling through mountains of waterlogged documents- utterly unreadable. 

Your stomach nearly flipped as Gaz lifted himself on top of one of the crushers, spotting a dark churned pulp within, the makeup of which you couldn't bring yourself to imagine. There's no doubt that the quarry was the hotspot. One hotspot. For all you know, this could be the tip of the iceberg. Right now, you could just work with what you could and go one step at a time. 

"All Bravo, this is Watcher. Bravo 0-6 I need you to get as much evidence as possible at that compound. Keep your gloves on and head on a swivel. We're sending all of this footage back home. Bravo 0-7, bring the Tango out back and let's have a chat with him. We'll meet you there." Laswell's words painted a clear picture of orders, stern and certain, evident by the chorus of 'solid copy' in response. 

We'll meet you there. She has to mean Farah, right? She's shifting in her seat like she's ready to stand, and every emotion crashes into your mind with such ferocity that it makes your sinews crackle with anticipation. She's standing, and you do, too. You don't know why, but you just did. Firecrackling tension trickles down your thigh, and lightheadedness clouds your senses. 

"Cricket," Laswell gestured to the door with the laptop she'd scooped under her arm. 

Before you could blink, you were already forcing paralyzed tendons into action, hearing the sound of your own footsteps before you could even register the subsequent actions. At least she led the way; otherwise, you'd have no idea where you were going. Once again, you're tapping down the ironwork catwalks, but only this time at an accelerated pace. The stairs crashed under you, fluttering down each step, catching a flash of blonde whip around the base of the stairs toward the exit ramp. With a light hop, she had broken into a jog. You did, too. She pushed past the unlatched door into the white sunshine. You did, too. Laswell swung herself into a smaller, more pedestrian dune buggy than the boys' model. You did, too.

Dust and the smell of gasoline flooded your senses, fighting inconsequentially to keep coarse sand from flying into your hair and eyes. At least Farah would still be on overwatch, though something told you this barren, pathless golden wild didn't come with many passers-by. You gripped the buggy's metal frame like it would be drifting away into that blinding sky if it weren't for your courageous vice, even when your wrist muscles trembled with strain. 

Only when you were in the passenger seat, following the same twin pairs of tracks the task force had left as sandy breadcrumbs, did you actually connect with your circumstance. They're going to have you in the complex, among rank and putrid rotting bodies, sifting through evidence to uncover some key evidence. The smell of a dead body is a hard thing to get out of your system. Let alone the sight. At least you have time to mentally prep yourself for the onslaught, but most of all, you were eager to help unravel this plot. If anything, those bodies should be an incentive to get this intel rather than a root of apprehension. No time for emotions. Just do your job. Do it for Basmala. Do it for her daughter who should be studying in Brussels right now. 

It's so odd to see the quarry in person, like it's stepping into the screen you'd been watching minutes before, even down to the perspective. You've seen Gaz's identical perspective in the passenger seat of a vehicle, the same as you, crashing and soaring over heaving dunes. Only this time, the phantom falling sensation became more real than ever. A wavy view of tall concrete walls came closer and closer, the scorching ground making it look like a hazy grey cloud. Be it your elevated heart rate or the sun pommeling your dark tee-shirt, a thin layer of sweat made your vice on the fuselage slip with every plummeting hill. 

Price's raised palm looked like a torch in the darkness, like a British and moustached Lady Liberty, signalling you into the harbour with open arms. Only it wasn't a harbour; it was a shambling stone construction with a crooked sign hanging on for dear life above a brutally rusted set of doors. Ghost and Soap stood vigil over their catch, guns drawn, like hunters eagerly displaying their game for social media. Poor fucker was zip-tied up like a prized hog with a burlap sack reading 'onion' in Arabic taped around his head. Gaz reached over to place his palm on the roof over Laswell's side of the buggy, saying something in that accent that you couldn't quite catch. Fuck, maybe this heat is getting to you because Price was signalling for you to join, and leaded muscles scarcely cooperated. 

Hot sand took no time to spread their scalding words through the rubber of your boots. The desert sand has a way of being so deafeningly loud with its radiance, like you're hearing the sound of your own eardrums baking. They were talking about the elephant in the room, being the prisoner, and what to do with him. Frankly, you couldn't care less. You just wanted to get inside and get to work, to get out of the sun. It's when you hear your own name in the context of this stranger that your eyes snap into focus. 

"It can't be on the record," Price mouthed, "But Cricket can get us a written transcript when she's done. Right?"

Your face hardened. You were hearing things, seeing mouths move and eyes land on you, but it still wasn't loading in your overheating hardware. Even when your mouth hung open, hot air on your teeth provided an unwelcome sensory overload that made your stomach heave. 

"Wh-" you breathed.

"We'll get you and Ghost to take him over by that old hydroelectric dam, and let us know what he's got to say," Price clarified, those icy blue eyes did not provide the cooling relief you were craving. 

"I doubt he'll just volunteer the info... They- they're probably threatening to do to his family what they did to Basmala." Finally, a sensical thought slipped into your mind and past your lips as the situation clicked. 

"Ghost has a way of making people talk," Laswell nodded, glancing over her shoulder at the phantom.

"He might be better at your job than you," Gaz joked with that shit-eating grin he and Soap liked to sport. 

You managed your fiercest look past your furrowed eyebrows with remarkable ease since it came so naturally. By now, you're well aware that he's joking. Probably. Maybe. 

"I prefer to operate within the Geneva Conventions," you chided. 

"Conventions and rules will only get you so far sometimes," Price swaggered into view with folded arms. 

"And getting them to talk is one thing; getting them to say the right chatter is another. It's yet another thing is to actually understand what they're whaling."

"He's the best chance we've got," Laswell's voice cut deep, not only because you've never heard her be so sharp in your direction, but because she was right. 

You had no problem with catching a dishonourable condemnation or discharge if it meant standing up against torturing someone. Torture. That's what it is, torture. In so many ways, this was out of your league. Out of your skillset. Out of the things you weren’t psychologically equipped to absorb into your conscience. This one little flicker kept you in it, though. Those yellow mary-janes. If this is what it takes to unravel this grisly plot, you'll have to get your hands dirty. You'd rather take the weight on your shoulders of this poor soul's torment over the sleepless nights of feeling like you could've done more. Another set of impossible choices. Once again, a tragic ethical dilemma. If only one of those textbooks back in London had the wise words of some decorated linguist's solution, but maybe that's the thing; history is written by the victors. 

"I'll do it," you insisted dutifully. 

"Good," Price nodded, patting a gloved palm over your shoulder. 

The heat of his palm was unwelcome, but that placid face said that he was aware of your psychological sacrifice, a big ordeal for your rank. These guys have probably done this dozens of times before. You wouldn't be shocked if your lieutenant's number was closer to the combination of theirs. Yet, the crinkled smiling eyes he shared with you, likely somewhat sarcastically, said he was proud. He's definitely more than aware of your recognition of the satire in the action, though. 

"Don't worry about Ghost, he doesn't bite," Laswell grinned warmly, reassuming her position behind the wheel of her dune buggy. 

Oh Kate, if you only knew the half of it. 

Soap and Ghost bantered about something seemingly hilarious while you grappled with the ethical dilemma afoot. Every time you thought the mission was moving impossibly fast, a quick gearshift sent the operation into a new warp speed. The rest of the crew had gone inside, evident by the squealing rust, and Laswell had tore back toward the observatory to fire off more communications. Reality looked like a movie taking place before your eyes as if you were in the front row at a movie theatre. Soap's posture suggested he was just turning to leave, concluding his chatter. No Soap, don't go. Don't help Ghost heave that bound mass into the back of one of the buggies, wrestling against his explosive protests. At least he had the courtesy to buckle him in though, safety first. Now, his gaze turned to you. He was walking over to you. There's that stupid fucking grin. 

"See you soon, Cricket. LT'll make your first time extra special," another slap on your shoulder, he looked like he was on the edge of a laughing fit. 

He was obviously referring to the grim reality of forced information gathering. Obviously, he's talking about the torture. You felt your face scrunch into a tight-lipped smile. He seemed content with your wavering response, turning on his heels with one last look to his comrade. Fucking Soap. It's a wonder what he sees in this grim fucker, and what humour he seems to find in him. Maybe it'll be worth eavesdropping on their next banter session. With sprightly efficiency, he disappeared into the abyss below that collapsed, once vibrantly painted sign. The door clicked shut to a choir of shrieking metal, gone from view. Now you were alone. Alone, save for the dreadful, loathing figure that's utterly disgusted by having to exist in your presence, with their mouth wrapped in cloth that's sparing you from a view of barred fangs- and the hostage. 

As he approached, he blocked out the sun, making you look up past furrowed brows to meet his stoic gaze. That stupid fucking white plate in the shape of a skull caught the glare of the sun, eagerly reflecting bleaching white into reluctant pupils. You detested being there with him, and the odd humour reflected in his eyes. Humour, of all things. The fucker had the nerve to smirk at you through dark eyes, staring down his nose at you. He was getting a kick out of how uneasy and upset you were. Sick fucker, it's like he forgot that you're not the one he's supposed to torture. You'd be so much more at ease if it were anyone else. It'd be so much more doable, having constructive reassurance from someone with positive rapport to help guide you. No. Yet another trial by fire, though at least the Grim Reaper was already here to drag you to hell once this was done. Wipe that smug look off your face. 

"In," he flicked his chin to the vehicle that held the writhing subject. 

You detested taking orders from him, turning over your shoulder to the buggy. It's when you felt a featherlight hand on the base of your spine that your nerves sparked alive like firecrackers, leaving tingling flesh in their wake. Scorching breath halted in your throat, threatening to singe fragile lungs. Stepping into the machine like he suggested left your mind spinning. A simple action with dire consequences. He was just helping you climb back into the dune buggy. That's really it. The humming engine matched the vibrations of your humming nerves.

Every cascading hill made the hogtied Tango in the back seat groan against his confines like a cat in a bag. What set your mind at ease was that he wasn't protesting his innocence or asserting some grand misunderstanding with every outburst. This fucker had the nerve to call you every curse word in the book, including a handful of regional phrases that you hadn't had the grace of being exposed to in your academic setting- though you could infer their meaning. This guy knew he was caught, and your masked colleague was interested in making him sing, not scream. 

At least being in motion made a breeze breathe across your damp skin, even though it felt more like standing in front of a hairdryer. Last time you were alone with this man, truly alone, you couldn't control yourself. A spur-of-the-moment action made you act on deeply rooted instincts. Though that time, you had alcohol as fuel. However, this time, you have something much worse; lingering glances and heavy-lidded daydreams that'd spent months marinating. The head has a funny way of prying these unspeakable thoughts from your conscience when you're in heat like this, like you're sweating out the toxins in your system. 

What the fuck am I thinking? This is work. This is a job that has to be done. Seconds earlier, I was considering a dishonourable discharge. That one action. That second of touch did that to me. Am I that touch starved? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Farah, how copy?" Laswell's voice cut through Ghost's radio over your shoulder, snapping you out of your trance. 

"Peachy," Farah retorted, stern and apathetic. 

"Good to hear. The Bravo 0-6, 2-6 and 7-1 will search the quarry and gather a case. We're counting on your overwatch."

"Rog."

"Watcher out," Laswell ceased the dialogue, forcing the quiet company back into an uneasy silence.

A hazy mountain, long and straight, manifested into the shape of what seemed to be the destination in the afternoon sun. Broad letters in abjad script confidently noted Al Mazrah Hydro, though by the depressed state of the dam, it looked like it had been long abandoned in the peak of the desert's punishing heat. Sprawling vertical streams of orange and red led to leaky pipes, far beyond repair, forking up and down the 100 ft mass of concrete and stone. The closer you got, the more your heart rate steadied, making way for a washing sense of duty. Duty and confidence. It's time to make this fucker pay. Wring out every drop of information that can make his warlord bosses pay for what they did to these people, what they did to Basmala, and all those graveless names from that transmission. Luckily, it came with the bonus of extracting crucial information about his boss or some game-changing intel that could turn this entire operation on its head. Details that Ghost will gleefully unburden him from with practiced brutality.

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Master List

[perceivedregret]

can't believe there's more lore

here's pt 3 of so it goes, my steddie focused (we'll get there, i stg) supernatural creatures au that, as of right now, features vampire!steve, werewolf!nancy, witch!robin, and last but not least, werewolf!max. can be found on my ao3, user is the same over there. [tumblr links for part 1 & part 2]

murder will out

If this were a cartoon, Steve probably would have worn the rug down to the wood floors with all his pacing. Robin says as much under her breath and he waves her off, his focus on Hopper. 

"I don’t understand, why can’t we just go back to my place? We were doing fine before, just let us go back.”

Hopper sighs, sinking as far into the couch as it allows, eyes trained on the fan whirling overhead. “I’ve already explained this– you guys were seen . I wouldn't call that doing just fine . Ms Driscoll called the station nearly in tears. The poor woman thought she was losing her mind to early dementia because she saw some dead kids hanging out by the pool of the Harrington house.”

Steve scoffs, runs his fingers through his hair, hand settling on the back of his neck. “ So ? We fixed it aleady, I did the mind compulsive–"

" Compulsion ," Dustin coughs in correction.

"– that , and she, like, forgot that she saw us. We’ll be more careful this time around! We won’t step out of the house, we don’t have to flee the state over this. I don’t, fuck, I don’t get what the big deal is.”

“The big deal?” Hopper’s head snaps forward. “Harrington, for one, you can’t scramble the entire town with your mind thing, it’s not practical. You're damn lucky I was the one to respond to the call last week. We also don’t know the true extent of your power. Other than Carver and Holloway who've gone AWOL with Henry and the rest of them, you're the first vampire this town has come across. If it's a common thing amongst your kind, the Suits aren't sharing that information with us. We're lucky they even shared how to somewhat keep this town safe after their own screw up that allowed all of this to happen in the first place."

'You mean the reason it's been almost impossible to feed the last few months? There’s only so many blood bags they supply at the hospital and I feel like a dick having to steal it. What if they run out and someone needs it?”

Dustin hums, brows pulling tightly together. “Wait. Steve, have you been going without feeding?" When Steve rolls his eyes Dustin tosses a half eaten pringle at him, but it clatters against the wall. "Don't be an idiot, you know you can always get a drink from–”

“Shut up, no, I wouldn’t ever do that to you Henderson, for one. I know you and Miss America like to say the four of us have bled together or whatever, and thanks for the offer, but no, absolutely not. Robs isn't even allowed to think it. Besides, even if I wanted to, that shit’s already in your system. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for some of us to even shower ?”

“It’s a protective measure. It’s no different than when we added fluoride to the water,” Hopper sighs.

Max scoffs. “Right well, do us all a favor, yea, and tell them to shove their Hawthorne and Wolfbanes up their–"

“ That’s the weird taste in water? I thought I was going crazy,” Dustin mutters, falling into the couch between Hopper and Max. His eyes glaze over for a moment, turning to face her, sniffing the air. “Wait, you guys can’t shower?” Max huffs, hiding behind her comic.

Hopper groans in annoyance, shuffling to the side to provide space between them, but it isn't much. "I know you didn’t ask for this life, but we have to keep this town safe from the supernatural. Unfortunately, that included keeping them safe from you. All of you.”

A breeze whips through, nipping at the end of Nancy’s skirt, flowing across the room and brushing through Steve’s hair. “ Seriously ,” Robin hisses, having reached out instinctively. Hopper’s gaze bounces between the two. Nancy doesn’t respond to his comment, the grip on her knees turning her knuckles white. Steve only pinches the bridge of his nose, the rug still in danger of being worn down.

“I’m not judging any of you for your past, no one’s perfect, but let’s be honest with ourselves here. Your kind, both kinds, can be… well you guys already know. Besides all that, what if someone catches one of you and they call the station and it's not me responding to it? Hm, what if it gets out that this town is infested with vampires and werewolves? Or witches? And on top of that, we still don't know why Heather turned you or why Carol bit Nancy. Billy biting Max, we can only guess. We don’t know anything that really goddamn matters here."

"I fucking know why Billy did this to me,” Max grumbles, the red only Steve and Nancy have the ability to catch flashing across her eyes once again. She flips the page of her comic, a tear of a page ringing throughout the room, making Dustin wince.

“Regardless. I know this shit has been your life for only the last couple of years, but try twelve years of it. El had already been bounced around between four other families before she got to me. Five years old and so full of power she had no control over. All those other families chalked it up to bad behavior but after reading up on her file with Joyce, we could see around it, around the bullshit. Speaking of–

“ You .” He points to Robin and she shrinks in on herself, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “You made yourself into a witch. You weren’t born into it the way my girl was. I know you think you’re capable of anything, but saying a few words in Latin in the correct order every once in a while isn’t enough. You were able to make those fancy rings and bracelets for everyone here to survive out in the sun or curb some of the effects of the full moon but that's child's play compared to what you tried to do."

"That shit was so not easy. I had to fill in my eyebrows and stack layers of mascara for weeks," Robin mutters, fingers brushing faintly over the faded electrical burn scars that trace along the back of her hands towards her wrist, branching away from where they originate from her nail beds. “Surprised I only lost two nails.”

" Regardless . You needed way more time, more practice. You don’t know what you’re capable of, not yet, but those four months that you had before the attack wasn’t enough time to learn what you needed to break Henry's sire control. And you were all –” he waves his finger at everyone, “–stupid for thinking you could. Especially alone.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Six months later, now he wants to lecture us? Sure, bucko.”

Hopper shakes his head, eyes falling closed before he continues. “Harrington, as for the house, your father is in the process of selling the property. Alright, he apparently listed it a week after that night and he finally has a buyer ready to negotiate. Considering what a fuckin’ shit show this towns become ever since Henry and the rest of them blew through town, I don’t think he’s gonna get a very good deal."

At that Steve finally stops his pacing. He shuffles over to the recliner Robin occupies and falls heavily on the floor in the space in front of her, head falling back against her knees. "I knew this was coming, I don't even know why I'm surprised. He said I was as good as dead since I turned. Being officially dead gives him no reason to stay in Hawkins… he’s got no one." Hopper gives Steve’s sneaker a tap with his own boot, the sorry kid translating well enough.

The blows keep coming.

"Then there’s the goddamn Suits. After this whole thing with Ms Driscoll they’ve decided it’s best to get you all out of town. And, quite frankly, especially after today's news? I agree. Agent Stinson has stated they have no intentions of helping supply you three with new identities or a place to stay unless you guys leave.”

“New identities?” Robin scoffs, fingers freezing in Steve's hair. "They could have left us with ours! If they didn’t declare us dead there wouldn’t be a need for new identities, did those dipshits ever think of that?” Robin crosses her arms, hands balling into fists. A bulb from above bursts, but barely anyone flinches except for Dustin. 

Hopper only exhales forcefully from his nose, already used to outbursts turning into broken objects. Over so many talks , El’s broken her fair share of bulbs, plates– even the living room’s coffee table. There's a reason this cabin is so unfurnished.

He lifts his hand, like a reluctant student in class. “I'm the one who suggested we pronounce you all dead, Buckley. Not them."

"Why?"

Everyone's eyes fall on Nancy as she utters the first words since Hopper arrived. If their full undivided attention bothers her, she doesn't show it. Hopper meets her gaze, and suddenly he's years older. Exhausted.

"The Byers kid had a vision."

"Wait, he has powers? Since when? Was it big Byers or little Byers?" Steve interrupts, brows low. Hopper's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t continue, just keeps his focus on Nancy. Steve turns his attention to her, eyebrows shooting up. “You knew about this?”

"It wasn't for any of us to tell," Nancy says between her teeth. She mirrors Hop, gaze unwavering and her lips form a tight line. He only raises a brow.

 "Jon can’t see into the future,” she finally supplies, arms crossing over her chest. “He can only catch glimpses from the past. He says they’re like snapshots. Moments in time that he can see, and sometimes he can step into it and explore, but it gets blurry after a while. He can't look into someone's past without a personal belonging or picture of the person he's trying to see.

"Will is the one who can see into the future, except it’s never clear. Jonathan explained it’s like looking through a kaleidoscope for him. If he tries to look too long he ends up with a migraine. It’s why he’s always painting– it’s his way of trying to decipher his visions.”

“It’s the reason Joyce was so helpful when El came into my life. Eventually our lives.” Hopper's face softens for the first time since he sat down and started delivering bad news. It’s short lived because he’s looking around the room with his signature death stare, finger raised in warning. “Stinson and the rest of them don’t know anything about our kids and we’d like to keep it that way. What was just shared about them, that doesn't leave this room.”

"Am I really the only one without powers now that Max has chompers? What the hell man, that's so unfair," Dustin groans, throwing his head back with an annoyed grumble that sounds gargled in his position. "Mike has his empathy thing–"

"Little Wheeler's got what? " Steve and Robin say in unison. It feels like he just got slapped in the face because how the hell have they not said anything these last few months, no, years ? Nancy buries her face in her hand.

“Mike can sense emotions and sometimes change them, it's been a thing. Except– he can't feel love, or something. He can feel it in himself, he just can't sense it from others or force it on them. Keep up, Steve." He turns to Max. "Lucas still hasn't shown symptoms from the bite, has he?”

“My boyfriend is still nice and human, just a scar, thanks for asking.” Her smile immediately melts. “But if I ever see Billy again, I'm going to run him over with his own stupid car for what he tried to do to him, I swear to god." 

“Just us then,” Dustin beems, shoving two stacks of pringles into his mouth, the pieces flipped onto each other so it forms an open beak.

Max tilts her head, considering him. "I don’t know… I think being super annoying could be your thing. I just don't know if we can count it." She pats his shoulder, lips pouting in mock sorrow. "Hate to break it to you, but I think you’re just going to have to settle for being a lame dork."

"Would you two please ," Robin mutters, flicking a finger out into the open air in her lap, forcing Max and Dustin into a seated upright position. The sudden movement sends the can of chips rolling across the floor, their hands clasped in their laps and suddenly stiff as boards. "I don't know who's worse together; you and him, or him and Erica."

"Everybody, shut. The hell . Up." Nancy's voice is nearly a growl. "Because our beloved Sheriff Jim Hopper here has yet to tell us–" She leans forward, elbows on her knees,  "–what the hell Will saw. Because, quite honestly, I can’t think of a single thing that he could have possibly seen for you to think it was a good idea to declare us dead.”

Hopper takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he finally says it.

“Will saw you three die.”

A beat.

And then they're all speaking over each other.

-------

there's more to this part, so catch the rest of it on my ao3

[sorcerous-caress]

You know what? Fuck it, the audio I'm editing is still buffering. So, heres Issal's reaction to the soul lobotomy.

Sister

Sister

Sister

Some sister she is, the word is like a curse on her tongue

Do you know she taught Khal'ian the meaning of the concept? Gith do not have family structures. They do not have parents nor siblings, fellow hatchlings at most call each other cousins.

Issal will admit her choice to teach Khal was a selfish one. They had just met and with wounds so fresh from fleeing her original home. She wanted someone to feel the loneliness that she had, even if she had to teach them of their loneliness to do so.

But Khal, sweet Khal

He ruminated on her lessons then, after a few days, strolled up to her and declared

"You're my sister and I, Your brother!"

With a nervous, sharp toothed grin and the confidence you wouldn't have suspected of someone with twitching ears. It left her gobsmacked for a while. She had fully begun to believe that the plane of Limbo was finally causing cracks in her mind.

It wasn't until Khal'ian asked if he interpreted her lessons wrong with those puppy eyes of his. That she snapped out of her reverie.

" What makes you think we're siblings? "

" You treat me like a person, and you feel safe enough around me to change your bandages. Family care and respect one another, yes?"

The confession would have been enough for any jaulk to be flayed in Menzoberranzan. She would have to correct him for his own sake-.

"Oh, and I took this from the ghustil. It should help your eye see more clearly! I'm apologize I couldn’t get a better one. They don't like me much here."

Before she could speak, a golden monocle got placed delicately into her hand.

A gift?

Issal was a woman of science, not emotions, but this piece of equipment caused a surge of affection she'd once believe Lolth would kill her for.

It caused Issal to make her decision. With her free hand, she crept uptowards Khal'ian ear and gave it a swift pinch. Savoring the little yelp she got.

" Thank you, little Toad "

She would have a brother from now on.

Unfortunately, like all her siblings before him, Khal'ian would suffer a fate she'd deem worse than death.

In her eyes, to lose one's mind is an unthinkable cruelty, and one she saw time and time again as she grew up. Countless sisters that were broken and molded into the form of driders.

It wasn't the sloughing of skin or the immediate shattering of the hips to make room for new legs that scared her of Lolth's punishment. It was the loss of one's sense of self and intelligence that haunted her.

Terrified her so much that in a moment of pure vulnerability, she begged Khal'ian that if that scenario came to pass. That he'd put her down, and with a shakey voice, he'd agreed.

The pain of looking into a siblings eyes and seeing nothing of their prior self, no matter how strong, beautiful, or smart they were, is a neight indescribable agony.

She could barely handle it then, and she couldn't handle it now.

She had his head between her hands, cradling his cheeks and tilting his head down to look at her.

He had his fluffy hair, scaled cheeks, but his eyes were wrong. By the nine hells, his eyes were so empty and unfocused.

She had barely registered what was being relayed to her.

A soul lobotomy...

Oh, she could almost laugh. After so many years of losing sisters to the spider queen's trials, she would have never suspected her first brother she claimed to be taken down by some decrepit monk.

Hehe, how odd it seems that she is laughing.

Laughing

Crying

Sobbing

Soul shattering, wailing, her fingers digging into Khal'ian cheeks; he wasn’t flinching,he hated having his scales pulled. Why wasn't he flinching!

This is Cruel

She had to kill him, she couldn't protect him but she knew she could kill him and give him peace. She was able to lower her hands down to his throat but couldn't squeeze. The damned tears were getting in the way, and her vision was too blurry. When did her monocle fall off?

Oh, people were pulling her away. Was it Sol? Tav? maybe one of the druids? With her luck, it might be the bloody Baenre.

Oh, Brother, I love you

I'm so sorry

"Little toad" MY HEART

wow this was so beautiful and touching. Their relationship as siblings seemed so sweet and playful omfg I can't. The way he adorably called her sister and how she pinched his ear AAAAA.

The way she is forcing herself to attempt to kill him because she sees it as an act of mercy, knowing she has lost her brother.

Especially with someone who always puts science over emotions, who claims they are pragmatic and efficient. The only solution she has to this unsolvable problem is to destroy it. She can't accept the fact this person is still her brother after losing so much of himself, so she rather blames herself and carry the burden of killing him.

If it was Tav pulling her away. It could be interesting depending on who Tav romanced, was it Khal'ian? Then, this would make this just more painful. Both feel so much love for him, and both want the best for him. I don't even think Tav would be angry at Issal, they'll definitely understand her emotions better than anyone.

If it's Minthara, then it would be like a trip to the past. Back when drow matrons would chastise her for going to look for her sister's remains in the driders. Even if Minthara abhors Lolth now, there is definitely something to be said about her ways that are typical of any drow matron. She'd tell Issal to stand up and pull herself together because it's the softest thing she can force out.

Oh and if it's Sol. They'd be furious at Issal for thinking she has the right to end his life just because they considered themselves family. They'd see it as throwing away Khal'ian's legacy and how to live weak is better than a pathetic death where he can't even defend himself.

That it is not just Issal's fault or burden to carry, all of them here are responsible for handing Khal'ian to the monks and all of them must bear the shame and guilt. Not take the easy way out and bury his remains, you cannot erease what happened. We commited to this, we must see it to the end. Face it because it because this is his reality and this is who he is now. Or was Issal's love so conditional that she cannot bear the thought of loving her brother at his weakest and worst?

"How much I'd love to see the look on his face right now if he was to witness how low you've sunk. " Sol sneered, "you want to throw away his legacy so you can fail him a second time in a row?"

Probably Sol would end up getting shot in the leg or something, but hey, at least Issal isn't wallowing in her sadness anymore, which was the original purpose. They can handle a bullet or two, as long as Khal'ian stays alive, no matter what state he is in.

Also, Sol would probably tend to Khal'ian's scales from time to time since his empty vessle wouldn't bother to do it anymore. Gently clean them whenever they clean their own, try not to let the empty stare get to them.