#backpack under 1000

[themorningnewsinformer]

Budget Travel 2025: 7 Amazing Summer Trips Under $1000

Introduction Looking for an unforgettable summer vacation without breaking the bank? In 2025, budget-conscious travelers are discovering incredible destinations where $1000 goes a long way. From tropical beaches to historic cities, this guide will take you through the best budget travel destinations for summer 2025 under $1000. Whether you’re a solo traveler, couple, or adventurer, these picks…

[herozbags]

Visit-https://justpaste.it/ad8v6

Find the Perfect Laptop Bags for Women at Heroz -

Heroz's sleek laptop backpack for women will up your fashion game. We offer stylish and bright patterns to suit any taste. Our handpicked assortment offers the right mix of fashion and function for busy professionals and fashion-forward students.

[ba9go]

tough cookie (with a gooey center)

childhood bestfriend!bakugou katsuki x reader

junior high to u.a.!bkg, bkg has a soft spot for reader, fluff (sfw)

part 1/3 of the cookie craving collection (completed)

more cookies for you? part 2 🍪 part 3

bakugou has always been tough.

your first meeting with him in junior high floored you, literally.

you were running late to your next lesson, darting through the school hallways with your books and notes hugged against your chest. you turn the corner into your classroom, and BAM!

you ran into the wall, headfirst. the sheer, brunt impact of the bump had you falling onto the floor with an “oof!”. your notes fell to the ground in a flurry of pages, and you winced as one of your books fell right on its corner, gosh, that dent is gonna be there forever—

“watch where you’re goin’, idiot!”

you looked up from where you sat on the ground, only to see bakugou standing in front of you, arms crossed. even as a kid, bakugou had quite the scowl.

“you watch where you’re going!” you retorted, crossing your arms right back at him. “you’re so big, blocking the doorway like that!”

“hah? the fuck are ya tryna say?”

“that you’re really strong, moron!” you started picking up your notes, frowning at how crumpled they were. “i thought i hit a damn wall…” you muttered quietly under your breath. if bakugou heard you, he didn’t respond.

as you move to stand up, you lose your balance a little, and you trip forwards slightly. bakugou quickly catches you with a hand on your shoulder. the gesture catches you off-guard.

“you’re clumsy as shit,” bakugou grunts, steadying you with his hand. he continues holding your shoulder, even after you’ve regained your footing.

“well, sorry ‘bout that,” you grumbled. bakugou raises an eyebrow at you. “thanks,” you say begrudgingly.

bakugou only grunts in response, his hand dropping from your shoulder, before he walks past you and into the hallway. you walk into class and made your way to your seat, ignoring the stares of curious classmates.

after class, you were surprised to see bakugou standing outside the classroom, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets — if you googled “high school delinquent”, bakugou would probably be up there in the search results.

his eyes were narrowed, watching your classmates angrily as they made their way out of the classroom. then, his eyes met yours, and his scowl only deepened. you met his piercing gaze challengingly. you didn’t know what bakugou wanted from you, and you were 1000% sure that he could absolutely obliterate you — with his fists or with his quirk, you just prayed he wouldn’t use both on you.

but mama didn’t raise no pussy. there was no way you were going down without a fight; you were going to face bakugou head-on.

instead of challenging you to a brawl, bakugou tugs the strap of your backpack, hard. the action has you so surprised, and you let out an unintelligent squawk of indignation as your backpack slips from your shoulder (damn your bad habit of always carrying your backpack on one shoulder instead of two). your life flashes before your eyes, and you think bakugou is about to clock you in the head with your backpack, or worse, beat you up, and stuff you inside it—

bakugou slips your backpack onto one of his shoulders, turns around and walks away without a word, leaving you gawking.

“your legs broken?” bakugou says loudly, still walking off with your backpack. you chase after him, hitting his shoulder and demanding him to give you your damn backpack.

that day, bakugou walks you home, carrying your backpack the whole way.

you had wondered if maybe, just maybe, bakugou had felt the slightest twinge of guilt for knocking you over in the doorway (though to be honest, you did most of the knocking over yourself, since you were the one who ran into him). maybe the sight of you on the floor was so pathetic, that he felt the need to make things up to you??

bakugou dumps your backpack at your feet once you reach your doorstep. you blink, and he’s already walking off, presumably in the direction of his own home.

“damn you, bakugou,” you grumbled, bending down to grab your backpack. “thanks, asshole!”

you continue standing by your doorstep, watching bakugou intently, as if staring at his back would somehow answer all the questions swimming in your mind. you only enter your house after he finally disappears from your sight.

ever since then, bakugou started appearing outside your classroom after school, and he’d do the exact same thing — steal your backpack, and ignore your attempts to steal it back from him on the way back to your home. you didn’t quite understand why, and neither did your classmates, if their bewildered stares and hushed whispers in the hallways were anything to go by.

after a week of bakugou walking you home, you had gotten used to his… distinct personality. you weren’t surprised to see bakugou waiting for you after school anymore; you started looking for him through the class window, smiling when you saw him storming down the hallway, his usual annoyed expression on his face, and stopping outside your classroom.

then, instead of calling him a “pesky thief” when he took your bag from you, you started purposefully taking out a few books from your bag on days where you felt your bag was heavier (you were certain bakugou would have absolutely no problem carrying your bag, no matter the weight, but still).

you’d grown to like having bakugou around. you liked bakugou, and his brooding demeanour, his typically foul mood, his snarky insults, but most of all, his soft spot for you.

one day, on your way back home together, you found yourself getting lost in your own thoughts.

“ya lose your tongue or somethin’?” bakugou nudges you in the side gently with an elbow, and you snap out of your thoughts. “you’re quiet today.”

you smile. bakugou was so observant.

“the hell are you smilin’ at, idiot?” bakugou looks at you like you’ve grown two heads when you start to giggle uncontrollably. “the fuck? you good?” the genuine concern laced in his voice makes you laugh even harder.

“i’m good, i’m good!” you pause in your steps, and bakugou stops next to you too, looking at you expectantly.

you turn to him, beaming. “you’re my best friend, katsuki!”

bakugou’s— no, katsuki’s eyes widen as he takes in your words. back then, you didn’t realise the true weight of your words. katsuki’s been called many things — a smartass, bully, asshole. was someone like him even capable of being considered a friend? much less a best friend? katsuki doesn’t think so.

but looking down at you beaming up at him, katsuki starts to hope.

katsuki rolls his eyes at you and grabs your wrist, pulling you along as he grumbles about how you’re so damn weird and so annoyin’ sometimes.

you don’t miss the light flush that spreads from the tips of his ears to his neck, or how the hand around your wrist is slightly damp with sweat.

when you reach your doorstep, katsuki (instead of throwing down your backpack) gently slips the strap off his shoulder and onto yours. you feel a hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair slightly.

you look up, but katsuki’s looking pointedly to the side, lips tugged in a faint scowl, and you decide to let him off the hook; you won’t tease him, not when he’s being this openly affectionate towards you…

just kidding!

“awww,” you coo, wrapping your arms around katsuki’s neck to pull him down into a loose hug. “don’t worry, i love you too, katsuki!”

“haaah??? shut the hell—”

“look at you! you’re blushing, how cute!”

“i’ll fucking kill you, you piece of—”

after graduating junior high, you and katsuki remained inseparable, joined at the hip. he went to u.a., and you’d be lying if you said that that wasn’t why you applied to u.a.’s support course.

“katsuki, i got accepted!!” you jump into katsuki, who catches you in his arms easily.

“‘course ya did,” katsuki squeezes his arms around you, and you giggle. “told ya we’d go together, didn’t i?”

you wrap yourself around katsuki like a koala to a tree. katsuki holds you safely in his arms.

“can i be your sidekick, number one hero? pleaaaaase?” you ask sweetly, but you already know his answer.

katsuki smiles happily at you.

“you’re my number one sidekick, sweets.”

katsuki was tough, but he was soft, just for you <3

BONUS:

“hey, uh, bakubro,” kirishima asks nervously. “what’s up with you and that girl from the support course?”

“yeah, yeah!” kaminari chimes in. grinning from cheek to cheek, he whisper-shouts, “she’s cute! is she single? cuz i’m totally down to ming— WOAHHHWOAHWOAH!”

katsuki doesn’t let him finish, shutting him up with a crackling palm to his face. kaminari jumps backwards with a yelp. kirishima winces as katsuki storms down to hallway, back to his dorm room.

katsuki sighs as he kicks his door open, he’s so tired of their damn bullshit—

“hey, ‘suki!” you chirp happily. you’re sitting on the floor, legs crossed, with one of katsuki’s gauntlets between your legs. “how was gym?” you ask without looking at him. you’re focused right now, thoroughly but carefully rubbing a bar of polishing wax into the gauntlet. katsuki notices how the other gauntlet resting next to your leg is glistening, scuffs and scratches gone.

“‘suki?” you look up when you realise katsuki’s still standing there in the doorway, wordlessly.

katsuki stares at you blankly.

“be my girlfriend.”

the things i would do for a chewy cookie rn oh my dayssssss (it’s 1.55am) (my throat is getting worse)

taglist (thank you for your support!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07

[lucidfairies]

you should write about biker!ellie, anything tbh, drabble, smut, fluff, headcanons, you can choose feminine or masculine reader!

oh anon, how I love you!!!!

biker!ellie x fem!reader hcs

I've had this reel on my mind for weeks, so imagine biker!ellie, who insists that you lay your back against the front of her bike while she drives, just so that she can lean over you and keep one hand on a handle and one hand on your waist. you squeal when she speeds up, and she moves her hand from the exposed skin of your waist to right under your naval, tracing her gloved fingers below the waist of your pants

biker!ellie who, regardless of her cool nature, insists that you only pull this stunt in a parking lot. aside from the fact that if she got caught it would be one hell of a ticket, she couldn't imagine you falling off her bike and getting hurt

biker!ellie who adores when you wear her jacket. the dark leather is gorgeous against your skin, and the firefly symbol on the back sticks out stunningly in every bar and restaurant

biker!ellie loves going fast. when she gets home, she reeks of burning leather. the smell took a while to grow on you - it was a strange mix of her usual earthy scent with the smell of the rubber, but now it was a panty dropper

because she loves going fast, biker!ellie spends half an hour letting you doll her up in all her protective gear. she lets you pick out her riding pants and zip up her jacket, and she always waits for your soft kiss on her cheek before you slip her helmet over her head.

biker!ellie who lets you do everything. she even lets you slip her gloves onto her hands and buckle them. she let you tie a bow onto the back of her helmet, and has a pair of your panties wrapped around the stand that holds her phone.

biker!ellie who definitely has something like a bmw S 1000 xr, something that's good for speed. to circle back to that point - if the traffic is light, she's absolutely going 100 and weaving in between the cars around her

if you want her attention? biker!ellie is most definitely pushing the limits of how fast the bike can go. she'll kill to get to you and feel you giggle in her ear and pull her through the door of your apartment by the collar of her jacket

this one doesn't apply to everyone but... I can't stop thinking about biker!ellie dating a tall asf woman. she would love the idea of looking up at you and you having this small sense of control over her. she also heavily fucks with the way her hands look around your waist

I strongly support the idea of biker!ellie who's a little bit of a nerd. she loves to lay with you in bed while you lay on her chest and just talk about different bike related things. she'll tell you about different parts she needs, various mods she wants, how to up her engine. she's 100% a nerd about it

biker!ellie loves when you're backpacking. especially if you're taller, she loves your hands around her waist and your giggles in her ear when she speeds up.

biker!ellie has absolutely fucked you on her bike, in several positions no less. she'll have you sit on the seat and she'll eat you out on her knees, she'll bend you over the seat and strap you down, but...

her favorite way is when she has your back pressed against her front on a long night drive, with her hand in your pants. the bouncing and vibrating of the bike had you so worked up, so when ellie's slender fingers find their way to your clit, your legs spread further open as an invitation.

you won't pretend like it's not an awkward position - it's not like she could ever get her fingers in you like this, but the mixture of the vibrating of the bike and the way her fingers worked around your clit was enough to get you close. she knew a park n' ride close, and she wasted no time taking you there and eating you with persistence in the dark corner of the lot, spread out across her bike

hear me out on this one but, biker!ellie who works on her bike and then fucks you with a strap, purposefully covering you in black, greasy handprints. she loves to mark you up, obviously, but the markings of her hands on your body gets her going like nobody's business

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Summer With Them

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ׂׂૢ Y’all have no idea how much i hate summer i defrost from vampire to weird nerd -1000 aura points or whatever they’re saying on the clock app

Anyways i finished this while at the laundromat

Ghost

Prefers summer nights to summer days or evenings

Sits on the porch at night with you listening to the cicadas sing

And during this time you can’t take showers together bc he won’t let you adjust the temperature, he takes his showers ice cold

Don’t ask me where I get this from but he vibes with that one Type O Negative song bc according to him it gives “summer” (iykyk)

Prob has sun sensitivity

Cannot leave the house without his sunglasses

And he avoids driving when the sun’s too bright

Soap

Bastard who enjoys summer #1

He likes summer because it means going down to the beach and showing off his muscles that stay clothed under uniform throughout the year

Wants to buy swimming trunks that’ll match your swimwear

He likes joining teens in volleyball and flying kites with kids

Loves going on walks on the beach at dawn and dusk

He once gave you a bad scare when making you think the dolphin fin in the water was a shark

Even if you’re at home he’ll drag you out of bed to join his morning walk and evening walks after dinner

Gaz

He’s content with summer

Will come up with tons of things to do

Picnics he prepares every weekend

Cloud watching

Catching fireflies in a jar and setting them free all at once to see them glow

Running his fingers through your hair as the breeze blows

Making lemonade together to stay cool outside

Buys a vintage camera to take lots of pics of you

On every evening walk you take together he picks something small like a leaf or flower and saves it

At the end of the season he gets everything together and creates a page in his scrapbook

Alejandro

Bastard who enjoys summer #2

He likes the feel of summer breeze on his bare skin and you look forward to seeing that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Likes to sleep with the windows open at night

Blasts music

Carne asadas

Frequents the local ice cream shops to buy mangonadas

Throughout the entire summer your kitchen has fruits of all kind that he eats with tajin

Will take you for a drive around in his truck and then find a quiet little spot like a lake or mountain to park and sit on the truck bed watching the sky

Phillip Graves

Sits outside with sunglasses on and beer in hand

Calls for you to come out and sit with him to watch the sunset

Cookouts

Anytime you complain of the heat you better hope he’s not around to yap your ear off about some anecdote from when he was a child

“It’s hot” “Ain’t that hot” he responds whilst his face is sunburned bc he refuses to wear sunscreen

Will only wear sunscreen if you are able to catch him before he goes outside and apply it for him

Keegan

It seems like summer evenings are the perfect time to do stuff

For some reason likes to do things shirtless in summer: yard/garden work, mowing the lawn, washing the car..

You set up a chair on the porch to watch him

Falling asleep on a soft patch of grass under the shade of a tree

Will start a bonfire and sit around it with you for hours into the late hours of the night

Sometimes you’ll stay out so late with him that both of you fall asleep

König

He’s not fond of summer

Would prefer to stay inside but if you want to he’ll go out as well

Sprawls on the floor with the fan on

He’ll drive where you want to go and then sit in the car watching you

Prob keeps ice packs in a cooler to keep cool when going outside for a long time

He’d rather be outside when the sun starts to set and the sky turns orange

Sets up a hammock

Afternoon naps on the hammock with the gentle sway of the wind

Horangi

He likes summer and prepares for it

Just imagine him getting out a little backpack with a sunhat, sunglasses, sunscreen, water bottle, umbrella, cooling sleeves, etc…

That’s not for him tho that’s for you he puts on sunglasses and is good to go

During summer he loves going to markets and buying fruit bc that’s when it’s best

Lots of strawberries, grapes and tangerines

Constantly reminds you to wear sun protection

He likes being outside a lot actually and will take you to his favorite parks and places to hike

Nikto

The change of seasons does not affect him much

He’ll notice the change of weather one day and mention how much warmer it is

“It’s summer” “Oh, we should go camping soon…”

He’ll take you camping whether you like it or not insisting that you will like it

Sets a tent near the river to catch fish

He also likes to plant vegetables during the nice weather and bring them to you, proudly showing off his hard work rewarded

He likes to cook meals together and eat outside

[meep-moops-stuff]

Safe and Sound - Sidney Crosby x Reader

Y/n stepped out the lecture hall feeling a lot lighter than the previous night. She had finally completed her exam, and now she could focus on other projects for school. She walked to her car, the breeze heavy for an autumn day in Pittsburgh, with no sun and clouds. She turned her phone back on and got all the messages; some from her friends, some from a group chat, but there was on from Sidney.

“Good luck on your exam! Text me afterwards, I want to know how it went :)”

Y/n smiled as she stared at his text, not knowing how to reply.

She had never been asked these kinds of questions before, maybe from some past classmates after a cruel exam, but never from someone like Sidney.

She sat in her car, setting her backpack down on her passenger seat and shutting her car door.

Her fingers hovered over the letters, trying to think of what to say back.

“It’s over. I thought I did pretty well, thanks for asking”

She hit send and started her car, cranking the heat up.

Her phone buzzed.

“I’m glad it’s over! You studied so hard I bet you are going to get a good grade. We can talk on the phone later? I have some exciting news as well :)”

Y/n froze. Exciting news? From Sidney Crosby?

She started to panic. She put her phone away and pulled out of her parking spot.

Her mind was racing, a million different thoughts running through her brain. Ever since she met Sidney and he has taken her under his wing, his version of exciting news is different than hers.

To her, exciting news was getting a bonus on her paycheck or realizing she had enough money for gas in her bank account when she thought she did not.

To Sidney, exciting news was getting his 500th goal or getting to 1000 points, or getting a new suite made for his pregame walk into the arena.

Her thoughts consumed her entire drive back to her apartment. She pulled into her parking lot, grabbing her bag and shutting her car door shut.

Y/n unlocked her door, walking into the warmth and vanilla scented sanctuary.

She placed her bag down on the ground and within seconds, her phone was ringing.

It was him.

She took a deep breath and answered.

“How’s my girl doing?” Sidney said warmly.

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the nickname; his girl.

“Hi Sidney” she mumbled, playing with her sleeves.

“You finished the exam? How did it go?”

Y/n smiled as she moved into her kitchen.

“It was long and not as hard. I’m glad I studied and…”

She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“…I’m glad you had me take the break last night, I really appreciate it.” She murmured.

“I’m glad the break worked. You deserved it” Sidney said.

There was silence on the phone and y/n broke it.

“So you had some good news?”

Sidney cleared his throat, “yes! I do. Remember how I mentioned the night of assists last night? Well the schedule is set and it’s the beginning of February, and I’m bringing you along”

Silence. Y/n froze in place, putting her glass of water down.

“Me? The charity event? I thought that was for significant others and not random people-“

“Y/n. Stop it. You are not a random person in my life. You are family now. And, they changed the rules this year. We are able to bring family members that are not significant others. So I’m bringing you.”

Y/n sighed out, not in a frustrated way but more in a nervous way.

“I know it’s early and only December, but I wanted to let you know ahead of time so you can think about it. It is ok if you do not want to come, but I would love to have you there. I know Geno and you need to catch up on making fun of me, and you and Tanger need to catch up on the ridiculous reality tv shows that you watch.”

Y/n giggled. She moved to her bedroom and sat on her bed.

“I do want to come I’m just nervous is all. I don’t even know what to wear or what to-“

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to be nervous about. I’ll arrange to have a stylist choose your outfit so you have nothing to worry about.”

A stylist??? She didn’t have the money for that.

“Sid I don’t have the money for a stylist..”

Sidney chuckled on the other end, but it was a soft one.

“Oh baby girl you don’t have to pay for it. It’s on me.”

Y/n sighed, “Oh ok I’m sorry I just thought…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, y/n. I think it’s so cute you were worried about having to pay for it, but it’s on me and you do not have to worry about a thing for this, ok? Let me take care of you.”

She picked at the loose thread on her blanket, and nodded.

“Ok, Sidney. I’ll let you handle it. Thank you” she said shyly.

“I’m glad that is settled. I’ll send you information on the stylist later this week. I gotta go to practice now, ok? I’ll text you afterwards.”

Y/n smiled as she continued to play with the loose thread.

“Ok. Have fun at practice.” She said.

“I will. But if you need anything, call or text me. If I don’t answer, call Tanger.”

She chuckled, “I don’t even have his phone num-“

She was cut off by a buzz, and Sidney had sent her his contact, labeled “Tanger”

“Now you do” Sidney said cheekily.

Y/n rolled her eyes and they said their goodbyes and hung up.

She placed her phone beside her on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest.

This was completely crazy; the she was invited to the Night of Assists with the Pittsburgh Penguins and would be going with Sidney Crosby.

[tthevoic3s]

From Blood Births Life and Death - Chapter 4

Epic Prank Gone Wrong: No Clickbait

Word count: 1,881

MASTERPOST

Any person with a modicum of common sense would tell you not to even attempt to do something like this.

Anyways, Maya Strauss did.

To be completely honest, she wasn’t even that sure herself to risk that much, but now that she decided it there was no turning back. At least, that’s what her stubborn mind kept telling her. A person who is sure of their ideas, sure to be in the right, 100% sure, can’t hesitate. She thought, as she sneaked past the cameras, her steps quick while she tried to disappear in the darkness of the hall.

She was personally impressed about how she managed to sneak past the curfew, showing off an innocent angel face as the soldiers checking her unit called her name. She was there, and for once she wasn’t causing trouble. At least so they thought, fools.

They even double checked, as she expected. She was one of the main targets of the soldiers because, since her father died, her favorite hobby was causing countless problems to the military.

And don’t think it was some sort of “broken traumatized child has an unhealthy coping mechanism”. Hell no. She was doing it on purpose. She was sure as hell that her father hadn’t “died” on a mission.

Her father, nobody less than the leader in charge of the project, was openly opposing the colonialist propaganda of some of the highest military officers. What a strange coincidence he unfortunately died some weeks after the referendum to decide if, or if not, to conquer the land humans were already exploiting without the consent, nor even the knowledge of its rightful inhabitants.

And now, while her father was six feet under and the military leaders were planning god knows what atrocity against any moral law, Maya wanted to prove his father was actually assassinated. That his death wasn’t a pure casualty, and she wanted the guilty ones to pay for the crime.

Fuck ‘great America’, freedom, economy, the indomitable human spirit or whatever the fuck the new leaders were indoctrinating people with. She wanted justice.

Now, the step between wanting a thing and actually acquiring it is huge.

And maybe for Maya, that step was longer than her leg. But she knew how to handle the situation: like she always did, the solution was not giving a fuck about the risks and go on as her stubborness suggested her. Too bad, because Maya would have taken 1000 more equally long steps to obtain what she wanted.

As an example, returning to the night before the disaster, maybe sneaking into one of the archives and stealing documents about her father’s presumed last mission, maybe was slightly hazardous. And, nonetheless, it would have gone against rules number 1 and 2.

But, as we said before, Maya Strauss couldn’t give a flying fuck about the risks.

Yep, totally the same thing she thought as she heard voices and steps echoing in the nearby hall. Okay, maybe all this nonchalance might have led to her miscalculating something, but not anything irreparable, right? Right?

Maya sat down quickly, hiding with her back pressed against one of the archive drawers.The metal was cold against her skin, and she tried to remain as silent as possible while hoping the patrolling guards would just go away.

“Camera 4 reported movement in the hall, you two go check in the archive”

She cursed under her breath as she heard the soldier’s voice, clenching her fists around the thin document folder she didn't even have the time to read. A drip of sweat rolled down her forehead as she cautiously ravaged in her backpack to find “plan B”. And by plan B, she meant a molotov bomb she prepared, you know, just in case. You could say she was quite… a resourceful young lady.

She peeked from behind the drawer chest and scanned the area. She just needed to wait until the soldier opened the door…

and took a step inside…

and then, just…

CRASH

As fire spread quickly on the ground creating a safe barrier - yet precariously momentary - she ran to the nearest source of freedom she could take sight of: the window. She catapulted herself outside - maybe not the smartest move but she was at the first floor anyways. She fell on the grass with a soft thud, rolling on her elbows to cushion the impact with the ground, the confused shouts of the soldiers still hearable in the distance. She shoved the scattered documents in her bag and stood up instantly, her knees still shaking for the adrenaline. It didn’t take long for her to hear the hurried steps of soldiers running outside.

Plan A: Failed, but not completely. She still had the documents.

Plan B: Fired.

Plan C: Ther was no plan C. Well, it was now clear that her plan C was to START RUNNING, for fuck’s sake!

“Hey! You! Hands up, stay still!”

Seriously - Maya thought - did that soldier really think he could obtain any kind of obedience, even the slightest, from the same girl who had just thrown him and his squad a molotov bomb and launched herself off the window. If the situation hadn’t been that serious, she would have made fun of them. But now, every inch of her body was focusing on darting the fuck away from there, jumping off the iron railing and running right into the forest.

And by this, she broke rule number 3.

What a great night ! Building up whatever the female equivalent to dad lore was. Mom lore didn't sound good.

She ran and ran through the dense underbrush, the trees seeming impossibly tall above her. She clutched her hand around her bag, trying to protect the precious documents while she crouched and jumped, trying to get away from the chasing squad of soldiers.

Them, on the other hand, seemed to be more hesitant. Getting Maya back to the colony was an absolute priority, possibly along with arresting her, but she knew what she was doing and this put them in huge pressure.

She knew that she was trying to reach the edge of the forest, which led to the giant village humans shouldn’t have ever approached. The golden rule, remember?

Thus, she headed right there. It was reckless, for sure, but she wasn’t scared, at least, she didn’t feel like it. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the rational fact that it was late night and the possibilities of getting seen were almost none.

The soldiers weren’t so calm about it.

“Shall we call backup?!” One of them shouted to the other two, holding the walkie talkie in his belt, ready to snatch it and use it.

“Shut up Thompson, our priority is to not let her enter the darn village! If she does, we’re fucked, so run!”

The way was uneven and the chase was challenging, since, despite her young age, Maya was way more able to move swiftly through the dense underbrush, leaving the soldiers behind.

The younger soldier who asked the previous question - Thompson - gritted his teeth and kept running alongside the other two, as the faint lights of the village were starting to be visible in the distance.

“Fuck..”

Without a second thought, Thompson grabbed his rifle, holding it firmly with both hands.

”No! What are you doing!?-“

BOOM

and he fired.

The other soldiers watched as Maya’s distant figure staggered, still trying to run away before hitting the ground. The bullet hit and perforated her right leg, leaving her now unable to run. Great aim for a young recruit, Thompson.

The echo of the shot resonated loudly through the forest, definitely shattering the calm silence that embraced it. And it wasn’t the only noise.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” One of the senior soldiers shouted, violently snatching the weapon from the younger’s hands, making him fall to the ground.

“Are you crazy!? You know we can’t shoot outside the barrier without an explicit consent!”

Thompson stayed on the ground, his arms slightly trembling as he looked up at his companion. “B-But she was about to get in the-”

“DOES IT MATTER? BECAUSE SHE HAD ALREADY CROSSED THE LINE WHEN YOU - he clenched his fists around the younger soldier’s uniform - WHEN YOU, STUPID PIECE OF SHIT, FIRED!” He sighed, sweat dripping from his forehead. “If someone… if one of them heard you…”

The third soldier, who had stayed silent so long, interrupted. “She’s there, she’s already dead for us. Now, let’s get back to the headquarters and report this shit to the General. ”

The other two stared at him in almost shock, Thompson still sitting on the ground.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

The older soldier threw the rifle back to the young recruit, who clutched it hesitatingly and finally got up, following his companions through the uneven path of the forest.

And Maya, who, despite her wound, managed to get to the nearest path, laid there, feeling her consciousness slip away second by second.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

As the three soldiers finally reached the headquarters again, it had started raining. They exchanged a glance before surpassing the security section, heading directly to the main hall, where, not so unexpectedly, the General was waiting for them.

He was leaning against a metal table, his broad arms crossed and a stern expression that only accentuated his already sharp features.

“General Higgs-”

“Where’s Maya Strauss?” He cut off abruptly, this not unexpected too, since Scott Higgs was known for everything except for being kind nor patient towards his subordinates.

His icy eyes focused on the three soldiers standing before him, his brow furrowing as he scanned their silhouettes.

“So, Smith? Are you gonna answer me or…?” His tone became sharper and even more impatient as the senior soldier - now we know his name - straightened his posture and searched for the slightest flicker of composure to face him.

Smith finally found the courage to look Higgs in the eyes, and replied, even slightly stuttering.

“She’s.. with the highest probability.. dead, sir.”

“With the highest probability, hm?” Scott raised his eyebrow in suspicion, his glare sharpening. “This means she crossed the barrier, right, Smith?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded, now bowing his head.

Scott sighed sternly, almost holding back a grin. Shaking his head, he reached for an empty folder placed on the desk, while his fingers drummed on the surface rhythmically and ominously.

“And what about the documents Strauss stole, huh? Did you get them before she… “died”, right?” he asked, his tone dripping with dark sarcasm.

The silence that followed was a reply itself, at least for general Higgs.

He grinned, slamming his hand on the desk, the sound echoing in the whole room.

“I want the whole area from here to the border completely patrolled. - he shouted. - Day and night, until you find signs of that pest, whether alive or dead. I look forward to seeing her back here, rotting in jail, as soon as possible. And I want those documents back.”

Before heading out the main hall, he glanced back at the three soldiers.

“Oh, and go call Junior. With the… how did you say, Smith… highest probabilities, there will be a task for her.”

And with that, Scott Higgs disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

[regretsofaghost]

Day 30- My love for you is true, I swear it is, it just will kill you in the end

AO3 link to chapter 30- here Tumblr link to chapter 29- here Tumblr link to chapter 31- here

Word Count- 1000 words

Edwin did not burst into tears, did not scrunch his face in a show of beautiful sorrow, nor did he have tears fall silently down his cheeks like summer rain.

There was no beauty in watching his best friend fall apart.

Edwin, as he tended to, was silent. He buried his face in Charles’ chest, and Charles felt the wetness of tears begin to soak into his polo, with hardly a shudder going through Edwin’s body as he cried.

Hell had taught its lessons well, after all, and the most important one was silence. No one cared to hear the tears of a boy who did not belong there.

Leading Edwin was possibility the hardest thing Charles had ever done.

Edwin was covered in blood, eyes wavering and misty, lost, as Charles tried to keep up his commentary, tried to get the other to focus on him, to not think about the creature or all the memories the thing was trying to make him think of with every change.

Charles did not recognize them all, but he recognized Niko, saw her with the blood spilling out of her chest from where Esther had impaled her with magic, the paleness of her face as blood soaked her white outfit.

Charles could not let Edwin see that.

Charles could not focus on that.

So he kept asking if Edwin trusted him, as that seemed to make Edwin focus if only slightly more, a furrow in his thick eyebrows as if wondering why Charles would ever think otherwise.

“Always.”

“Of course.”

“I always do.”

It hurt, to hear. It felt like trickery, to have Edwin wax his praises after Charles had kissed him multiple times, all while Edwin was clearly still under the effects of that awful potion. All after Edwin had looked so lost, so resigned, as if the kisses meant nothing.

They mattered, so much, but Charles had to take care of Edwin first, and that meant getting them away from the wraith that had become fixated on Edwin.

“I’ve got you.” Charles murmured into Edwin’s hair, holding him closer, burying his face in the other’s messy hair. “It’ll be okay.”

“I-don’t know why I’m crying,” Edwin’s voice was wrecked, soft, little more than vibrations against Charles’ chest.

“Doesn’t need to be a reason, does there?” Charles pressed a kiss against the crown of Edwin’s head. “Just the two of us here.”

There were little hitches of breath, as Edwin pressed his nose against Charles’ chest, uncomfortable for both no doubt, but Charles wouldn’t ask Edwin to move.

It was a relief, when Charles led Edwin through the mirror back to their office, away from the wraith, Crystal safely on her way home with Charlie’s help.

It wasn’t a lie, when he told her that it would be best to allow him to help Edwin alone.

Charles was just, pretty sure Edwin didn’t want anyone seeing him in this state.

Hands holding hands, Charles led Edwin to the couch, guiding him to sit before reaching for his backpack, intent on finding flannels. Edwin’s hand tightened in his for a second, as if needing Charles’ contact, and well, Charles would not fail Edwin again.

It was a bit harder, to find what he needed with one hand clenching Edwin’s, but Charles would always make due for his friend.

Sure, the blood would eventually disappear, but-

It was an awful sight, blood covering Edwin’s chin and front, splattered and smudged on his dress shirt and sweater vest, hand completely covered in it as well.

There was little Charles could hope to do about the clothes without Edwin’s help, but their medical supplies always worked.

“I miss her, so much.”

“I miss her, too.”

Charles watched the way Edwin’s eyes grew heavy, gaze following his movements as he wiped away the blood from his chin and neck, making sure to be gentle.

“I-I worry, she died for me-“

“She- she died for us mate. Both of us were in there, trapped.”

“She- shouldn’t have had to be brave for us.”

Edwin’s lips were swollen from their kiss, his teeth now worrying the tender flesh as Charles got closer to his mouth with the flannel.

Edwin tasted like gin, the vague memories of pine needles and fresh flowers.

“Niko shouldn’t’ve.”

“I, I am also angry, at her.”

“…”

“She, she didn’t even say goodbye.”

Charles wondered what Edwin would taste like underneath the gin.

“She didn’t. Proper rude, innit?”

“…quite.”

The hand was next, and it was so much worse now. Charles couldn’t ask, couldn’t interrogate the other, not without that awful monster of anger lashing out.

There were two deep bite marks, a new one on his thumb, the old one just below it worsened.

Charles was gentle with Edwin’s hand, careful, as he wiped up the blood, revealing brilliant purple bruises that covered a good portion of his hand now.

It wasn’t the time for questions, it wasn’t the time to ask.

Not with Edwin’s sad, lost eyes.

“Did, you visit her?”

“…no.”

“Would you want to?”

“… I would not want to impose.”

“Can’t impose, grave’s for the living, innit?”

“We are not living Charles.”

“Then, grave’s for those left behind, innit?”

Edwin’s eyes followed Charles as he stood up, getting Edwin to his feet as well before laying on the couch, pulling Edwin on top of him.

Edwin made a noise of protest, but Charles wrapped his arms around him anyway.

“Please mate, just, let me help you.”

Charles laid there for a second, then another, then another. Right when he believed he overstepped, that they did not do this any more, did Edwin’s arms slowly start to wrap around Charles’ middle.

“I missed this.” Edwin’s voice was soft, sleepy, sounding as young as his sixteen years of life, rather than the hundred years of death and torture.

“I missed this too,” Charles replied, holding Edwin tightly, rubbing his nose in the other’s hair.

Edwin’s hair smelt like vanilla ice cream and old-fashioned pomade.

[violetsiren90]

Beacons Ashore

(A What the Moon Saw Drabble)

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends; new friendship; angst and fluff; Yoongi POV

Summary: A few months after first stumbling across you in his favorite spot, Yoongi finds himself at the hideaway ledge on a night in March.

Content Warnings: PG, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; minor injuries and allusions to domestic violence; allusions to minors smoking cigarettes; sad birthday boy; first aid; sweet beginnings

Author's note: Just a quick birthday drabble in honor of Yoongi and my favorite fic couple. It's exactly 1000 words! Short and sweet. A Yoongi POV. 💕

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! Yoongi certainly loves you, and I do too! 🧜‍♀️💜

The moon watched Yoongi shift impatiently where he sat.

    He wasn't waiting for you.

    This was his spot, after all - you had stolen it. Intruded. You kept insisting that it was very possible that you had in fact found it first, and that the both of you had simply never retreated to the little nook in the cliffside on the same night until that night, last year, but Yoongi found the notion highly improbably.

    It wasn't that he would ever complain that you were now part of his nightly reprieves more often than not. You weren't noisy or bothersome, and always brought cozy blankets and oatmeal crème cakes you were willing to share. You were easy to talk to, when there were words, and when there were none, your silence was easy as well - a peaceful companion in the darkness like the crash of the waters below.

    It was a Tuesday, and you were always here on Tuesdays. Your mother was gone playing bunco and your father was...working late. Yoongi shifted again where he sat, tossing a pebble over the lip of the ledge. He hadn't been able to lift any cigarettes tonight, not after the incident with the soup. His stomach rumbled. Yoongi held himself around the middle and stared out at the water shimmering under the chilly, pale yellow light of the March moon.

    He wasn't waiting for you.

    He wasn't.

    And then little scuffling noises from above found him springing to his feet and leaning over the railing to see you tottering down the steps wearing a backpack and carrying a flannel blanket in your arms that nearly obscured the front of you with its bundled mass. Yoongi hopped over the rail and trotted up the stairs to take the blanket and the backpack while you clambered over the railing to reach the ledge.

    You were so tiny that you had to drop to the ground after pushing your tummy off the bar. It made Yoongi smile to himself. He wished you weren't so cute, like a tiny little bear in your puffy coat and Ugg boots. If you weren't so endearing he could begrudge you for setting up camp in this little corner of his life.

    Yoongi didn't let people in, it was easier that way. People thought they wanted to get to know him, sure...but people always overestimated themselves. People were soft, ignorant idiots who recoiled when they discovered the ugly, messy truth his life, quietly excusing themselves from his association thereafter.

    That's why when you asked him what had happened to his hands, he lied.

    "I fell."

    It wasn't exactly a lie. He had fallen. When his mother had shoved him out the door and locked it behind him, screaming for him to go, to run, while she took the blows meant for him, he had fallen.

    Your eyes dropped to his scraped knees. Yoongi tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. The innocence of your knitted brow seemed to ask why he was always bleeding. Under his jacket the soft skin of Yoongi's tummy burned from the scalding overturned bowl of seaweed soup. Suddenly, he wanted to run away - but he was already where he'd end up if he did.

    You watched Yoongi's eyes dart over your face. You watched his foot scrape back over the stone of the ledge. You huffed and stuck your legs out in front of you in a little V, pulling your backpack into your lap. It was almost as big as you were.

    Yoongi's heart squeezed in spite of the pulse rushing in his ears.

Cute. Damn it.

You plunged your arm in past the zipper of the bag and pulled out a little white box, setting it between your legs and glancing back up at him to pat the ground beside you. Yoongi raised an eyebrow skeptically, but you tilted your head to the side and raised your own brows in a way he had quickly learned meant he better just cooperate.

    He sat down beside you, his back to the cold rock and his knees drawn up to his chest. You shoved your backpack aside and skootched in next to him, cracking open the plastic lid of the box to reveal the contents of a first-aid kit. Yoongi's heart squeezed again.

    You peeled open an alcohol pad and warned that it would hurt. He scoffed, then clenched his jaw to keep from yelping when you gently patted the cool wet pad over the bloodied knees peeking through the rips in his jeans. Then you pursed your little lips and leaned in to blow on his skin. What on earth that was supposed to do to help Yoongi hadn't the faintest notion, but he did know that your small, gentle touches were taking up enough space in his mind to push away everything else.

    You stretched a bandage over one knee. It was white with bright pink hearts and tiny pictures of Hello Kitty. Absolutely garish, and the sweetest thing he had ever seen.

"It's my birthday," Yoongi blurted out, surprising himself with his own words.

    You drew back and blinked at him.

    "I..." he mumbled, reaching for something to justify the sudden revelation, "I'm thirteen."

    You turned away to rummage in your bag again. Yoongi was kicking himself for being such a weirdo, and he stood again to go, when you turned back with something in your hands. You looked up at him with a silly grin, holding an unwrapped oatmeal crème cake with a Q-tip from the first aid kit stabbed like a candle in its soft center.

    "Got a light?" you asked, teasingly.

    He reached out and gingerly took the little confection in his battered palms, pulling a weathered Zippo from his jacket pocket.

    The moon watched as he lit the the little cotton swab.

    It watched him shush you as you tried to sing to him then mush the snack cake against your face when you wouldn't stop.

    From far up and away in the cold March sky, the moon saw Yoongi begin to glow at your side - long after the make-shift candle had been blown out.                                                                                                                           

-Fin-

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

I'm not from the us and I don't know what iss is, but I'm curious - you were late 3 times in a little over two months and you had 3 whole days of "punishing school"?? Are you not allowed to be late?? I'm genuinely curious, not judgemental at all!!

ahahhaa okay so ISS is In School Suspension, instead of being allowed to attend class normally, you're shoved into baby jail where you may not speak or relax. only work. if you dont have school work to do, you are given busy work to do. idle hands and all that.

each 9-week period is a 'quarter' and two quarters is a 'semester', within those quarters, at MY school (they're all different) we would get certain allowances, including but not limited to:

tardy allowance: for one class, we are allowed to be late 2 times. the third time we were given ISS the following day. there were 7 periods in a day, so technically 14 free tardies per quarter. thankfully, these punishments did not stack. if you're late to every single class for three days, you still only get 3 days of ISS.

hall pass allowance: per teacher, they were allowed to allot you a certain amount of hall passes per quarter. normal human beings did not do this. insane power tripping losers gave you the minimum, three. per nine week period, you were allowed to go pee 20 minutes after lunch only 3 times per quarter.

period allowance (phys ed exclusive): with my PE teachers, if you decided to use period cramps as an excuse to skip participating in PE, you got 2 free excuses per quarter.

but yeah, we aren't allowed to be late. because the american education system isn't meant to better the human or help people enter society or elevate their communities or further the sum total of human knowledge, it's meant to produce pliable, obedient, warm bodies for the machine. warm bodies who will defer to authority no matter what bullshit rules are imposed, and will not fight back when given stupid as fuck punishments for not following the bullshit rules.

for personal context, this is the class i was late to the most my junior and senior year. my 4th period classroom didn't have baskets under the desks, and we weren't allowed to have our backpacks, so there was no "just bring multiple class materials so you don't have to stop at your locker/just use a bag" because that was not an option. also i was 17.

in a five minute time span, i was meant to exit my classroom, worm my way through a sea of bodies to get to my locker, then move from my locker to my next class, a total of over 1000 feet. while pushing my way through 700-900 other teenagers. in less than 300 seconds i was meant to work against fluid dynamics lest i be banished to Bad Class.

anyway thats the vibe.

[wolfjackle-creates]

I just wanted to say this ask celebration for 1000 followers has been a blast to read and follow! Is there any wip that you want to write a snippet for? ❤

It has been so much fun! Glad you're enjoying it as much as me.

Have a bit more of Carry Your Heart. I've been hoping to get people more interested in that one ^.^

-----

Danny forced a smile. “We’re not going to need it.”

“Now, text your friends. Mom and Dad will be home in an hour or two.”

Danny did as told. As soon as he hit send, his phone started vibrating with two incoming calls. He hesitated just a moment before answering as a three-way call. “Jason’s been hurt,” he said, interrupting their shouted questions. “He’s been forced into his core. Frostbite can’t figure out how to help him and since he’s a fire core, he can’t stay in the Far Frozen. I want to bring him back here and keep him safe with me—”

“But your parents,” finished Sam.

“Yeah.” Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “So I’m gonna tell them. Can you come?”

“Of course, dude!” exclaimed Tucker. “Almost out the door now. I’ll be there in ten.”

“It’ll be twenty for me,” said Sam. Then she hummed. “Maybe thirty. There’s some things I want to get, just in case.”

“Thanks, Sam, Tucker.”

“You should know by now,” said Tucker, “you don’t even have to ask with us.”

“Yeah, dummy, we’ve got your back. Be there soon as I can.”

Danny hung up and gave Jazz another shaky smile. “They’re on their way. Tucker will be here in ten, Sam might take a bit longer because she wants to grab some things.”

Jazz nodded. “Good. I’m going to start putting together your go-bag. Is your backpack in your room?”

Danny nodded and Jazz ran up the stairs. He followed her at a walk, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating hard in his chest or the way his knees felt like they were going to give out with every step. His parents loved him, they did.

It was going to be fine. He’d tell them, they’d hug him, and he’d go get Jason and come home.

When he got to his room, Jazz had dumped all his school books and binders and papers out of his backpack and was raiding the first aid kit under his bed to transfer as much of it as she could into the bag.

“There you are, get two large water bottles and all the breakfast bars from the pantry. And whatever other food you can find that is both high-calorie and easy to pack.”

[herozbags]

Best Laptop Backpacks for Daily Use

Our fashionable backpack laptop bags are functional and stylish. Heroz knows your purse shows your style. We have basic, elegant, and flashy styles. Be distinctive and secure your laptop on every journey. Heroz mixes fashion and function in the most stylish way.

[distantsolarsys]

Truly like not hating but I need to know how you were able to go to so many of JBs shows because i’ve always wanted to do something like that but how do you afford it? And like travel alone? And where do you stay?

this is the last one i'm answering rn cause i gotta eat dinner but first of all i have to say like i planned and saved up for this for over a year, and always knew like the second she announced a tour i needed to be everywhere.

also. at one point i did the math and in terms of planes, travel, and tickets i think i spent like around $1000 which included both all things go festivals. this didn't include merch or food. i'm not saying it's cheap like it was definitely an investment but i think a lot less than people would've expected.

having friends & mutuals that are just as insane as you is like truly the only way that this was possible. for some cities i didn't even have a hotel/place to stay, i just brought a backpack and stashed stuff where my friends were staying during the day and had like insanely timed flights where i got in the morning of and left so early the next morning that i just went to the airport straight after the show. i also crashed at friends apartments/dorms/houses. but like knowing people that live in the locations or are willing to travel with you is so huge. also hostels (!!!).

i took public transportation pretty much everywhere. luckily in most of the cities i went there was good public transportation which i'm so not used to being from la. i think i took like 1 or 2 ubers that were split between multiple people the whole time.

spirit airlines/booking flights months in advance! i like price tracked flights for months and got away with like $60 cross country flights.

the last thing that was like truly the only reason this was possible is that her tickets were so reasonably priced, like at face value they were less than $50 and were reselling in most cities for like under $10. so i was able to buy a lot of last minute tickets and save a ton of money there.

[plorpl]

On my second re-watch of the series. In full brainworm mode. Struck me how stupid it is that Wilson's office is next to House's instead of near the department he runs. Wrote this to smooth it over (and make myself sad).

~1000 words, gen, set post-series

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

“Do you remember… during the remodel?”

Wilson’s voice came low from a few feet away, barely audible over the sound of the highway just outside the window. They’d stopped riding late in the day, exhausted and cranky, eaten what they had left of their stash of granola bars and beef jerky for dinner, and flopped into beds without even washing off the grime from the road.

All signs pointed to falling asleep quickly, waking up in a better mood, leaving the squalor of this roadside motel for the squalor of the next. But neither of them were asleep two hours later. Wilson had started getting generalized chest pains at night, so bad he sometimes didn’t sleep; neither of them bothered to diagnose it, to explicate. It didn’t matter. They were three months into their trip, and they wouldn’t be able to keep the pace much longer.

House wet his lips and swallowed before answering. It was dry in Arizona. Go figure.

“What about the remodel?”

A brief pause, then, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Do you ask me questions while I’m asleep often?”

“Yeah.”

He looked over at that. Wilson was under the sheet and stiff comforter, shivering slightly. it was that kind of night, then.

“Wanna do drugs?”

It earned a smile and a nod. House sat up, rifled through his backpack, and rattled the bottle when he found it.

“You’re going to have to sit up.”

House watched him struggle a little. Wilson didn’t like being helped. He would take it when it was necessary, but before that point it tended to make him sour. They’d already bickered twenty times about the irony, so House didn’t bother making a sly remark.

He thumbed two pills out for each of them, and they swallowed them almost at the same time, House dry, Wilson with the help of a half-empty gatorade bottle on their shared nightstand. Wilson sat there for a few seconds, propped up on dingy pillows, hands clutched around his waist. His face was almost funny - clearly uncomfortable, but not as much as was called for. He looked like he’d smelled a fart, not like he'd been kept up for hours by the pains of a slow death. House wondered for the thousandth time if all that politeness and bravery and bluster was for his sake or Wilson's own.

House felt the vicodin hit his bloodstream, and his eyes slipped closed. When he opened them again, Wilson was watching him with that look of his. House’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

“Well? What about the remodel?”

“You leaned on Cuddy so hard. Tormented her for weeks.”

It had been an interesting time - demolition, fresh paint on the walls, doctors packed into temporary buildings and loaned out to other hospitals. Cuddy was beside herself for three months straight, and House had done nothing to help the matter.

“She was expecting me to hire three people. I needed the space.”

Wilson shook his head. “I'm not talking about that part. Although your office size was ridiculous. Hennings almost quit over it.”

“Hack.”

Wilson smiled again, then started to push himself back down the bed gingerly. House just watched him, figuring he’d continue the conversation if he wanted to.

Wilson tucked the covers up to his chin, sighed happily, and said, “I know it’s probably lost on you at this point, but those things make me feel good all over.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“No, I mean all over. Even the sheets feel good. Like my skin is fuzzy.”

He was clearly a little loopy, but House knew what he meant. It would took quite a dose to get House to that point.

“It’s so nice to share hobbies.”

Wilson laughed, really laughed.

“Can you come over here?” Wilson motioned to the other side of his bed with his head only. “I think I need to lay on this side for a bit.”

He started turning slowly without waiting for a response. It was the kind of anodyne request that House had never stomached from anyone but Wilson, and sometimes not even him. Lately, though he always did. It didn’t sting anymore.

He stood, stretched, and limped around the foot of the bed, rolled onto it, over the covers. He settled on his back, one hand behind his head, watching Wilson’s forehead relax as the vicodin did its work.

Wilson shifted and shivered again, but somehow House didn’t think it was the pain anymore.

“I toured the oncology wing.” He spoke without opening his eyes. “Walked around my future office before the walls were put in. I remember, they put me between Greenbeck and Tom. I was mad about not getting the corner. But I didn’t say anything, of course. God forbid I actually ask for anything I want.” Wilson opened his eyes. “And then,” his voice broke, “I got to work on the first day back. Cuddy cut the ribbon, the whole shebang. I went up to my office... But it wasn’t there.”

House just watched him. It had been part of his deal with Cuddy. The primary stipulation, actually. He told her that Wilson was in on it, that he'd agreed to it, but that had been a lie. He had been too worried Wilson would veto it.

“I’ll never forget finding it,” he paused to smile, small and sad, “seeing my name on the door."

House breathed to say something, maybe sarcastic, make him laugh. Please, laugh again. He came up empty.

Wilson wet his lips and said, “I remember standing there, thinking - thinking that this might be the clearest I would ever hear it from you... Hear that you want me around. That you need me. Not for a favor. Not for a prescription, for distraction, for a laugh. Just for me, to be near to you.”

House breathed and watched his eyes through the dark - soft at the edges, earnest, alive.

“This is what you say to me when I’m asleep? Kinda fruity.”

And it did get him a laugh. A good one. House smiled back.

Wilson managed to free his arm from the covers. He laid a light hand on House’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. He got this way when he was high - tactile and sentimental. Or maybe it was the dying. Or maybe he'd always been this way, and always held it back.

House turned onto his side, facing him, ran a reciprocating hand up and down Wilson’s arm in a slow circuit. Wilson closed his eyes to the feeling.

“It’s actions,” Wilson breathed. “It’s actions that matter.”

They fell asleep like that, and woke early, and never talked about work again.

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

My other Hilson fic, also written in a fugue state

[fountainpenguin]

“'I'm doing this all for me!?' ... Dare say that about our love, and mister, I'll have to do away with you...” (x)

---

... 7 years ago, I put this chapter preview image in my queue and it's been there ever since. It's this plot point that the entire 130 Prompts project was built around.

We've made it.

---

New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Grudge”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Find more Purple Train story arc HERE

End Arc 2

---

Happy Peppy Gary (the teenage boy who used to rule the world) and Denzel Crocker (the school teacher who's spent years fighting to do the same) finally meet for a business proposition. It is raining.

... Where is the portal to Fairy World?

(First 1000 words under the cut)

---

21. Grudge

Saturday July 13th, 2002

Year of Leaves; Summer of the Last Berry

---

5 minutes after signing the Learnatorium off to Ed Leadly…

Passing by Dimmsdale Elementary leaves him feeling… giddy. Gary clutches his backpack by the shoulder straps, taking in the sight of empty swings squeaking in the wind. They stand like giraffes drinking from the savannah watering hole near the lonely see-saws and jungle gym. It's empty here. Dreary and chilly in the wind, even for a summer evening. And, like… There is something wild, beautiful, and free in witnessing this little slip between horror and peace. It's like peeling back a corner of yellow wallpaper to reveal life and color on the other side..

These days, Gary rarely has a reason to walk by the school. His apartment's in the other direction, closer to the downtown area (Right next to Alden Bitterroot's well). But there was once a time he walked to school five days a week, and five days back the other direction (unless Mr. Sanderson in a rare show of mercy pinged them safely home).

Years ago, back when he was only ten, he used to play on this same old equipment. The school has upgraded to a new slide (with a playful rock wall), but everything still feels so familiar. He could probably run across the playground with his eyes squeezed shut and still manage to run up every step and dive down every slide. And, you know… he'd probably scrape himself up on the woodchips if he did that, but for just two or three fleeting seconds, it might be fun.

Mmm… No. He's having second thoughts about the woodchips. He'd rather have squishy rubber underfoot (or even just grass). Woodchips can pierce skin. They aren't safe. And they're not all that wheelchair-friendly either, which no one in this town seems to think about as much as he and Betty do. There's a reason he applied for a part-time job at the Learnatorium instead of volunteering at the school.

Well. A few reasons. But the illusion of choice lifts his spirits on some of his worse days.

Gary lingers at the edge of a crosswalk. It's gray, gray, gray this afternoon. Not rainy, but threateningly close. The clouds leer downward, erasing shadows from the sidewalk. Gary rocks from heels to toes and back again, waiting for the red hand firm and staring back from him to turn into a welcoming white Cross signal. Does the little glowing figure who lives inside the signal box ever feel like he's drifting through a void? Marching endlessly, stopping often, and never advancing where he'd like to go?

It's Saturday. 7 pm. There aren't many cars out on the weekend, especially since not a lot of people have a reason to stray near the elementary school in the summer. Including him, which is why he walked right past it. Sentimental he may be, but the man he's searching for only works at the school… He won't be there today.

Cars roll past, their tires slick and firm against the street. Gary presses the signal button twice (in case the first push doesn't take) and stares at his reflection in the mounted mirror on the crossing post. It's a big, round mirror, likely put there to help drivers see around the corners, so it's probably unsafe of him to stand directly in front of it, but… in that moment, Gary realizes he doesn't know how long it's been since he last looked himself over in a mirror. Properly, anyway. He doesn't need to very often. The short spikes in his hair don't require much attention (especially because he usually wears a hat). Thanks to his mild genie powers (probably? Maybe? Unclear), he's never had to deal with acne. Every now and then he adds a little eyeliner to his look, but it really depends on the day.

It's… it's been a few months since the last time he did. That stuff runs when you cry. It would give his thoughts away.

Still, Gary grimaces at the face staring back at him now. How long has he looked like a zombie in the mirror? Heavy circles cling beneath his eyes. Is that how Ed Leadly saw him when he came in today? No one he'd believe had authority; no one to take too seriously? (Actually, this adds up. Gary spent last night sleeping on the Learnatorium couch.)

The white walking figure on the crossroad sign blinks on.

I've really grown up. Did I really use to cross this busy street without adult supervision when I was a kid?

Thunder sneers overhead, though the lightning's yet to show its face. Gary keeps his thumbs in the backpack straps. He didn't need to check the address in a phone book. Everyone knows where to find 4158 Woodnick Lane. It's outlived just about everyone in Dimmsdale. It maybe always will.

Gary's halfway there when raindrops start plinking down. They sizzle on his hands. He glances up. Then, yanking the backpack over his head, he breaks into a run. Burn the witch, he thinks snidely, and immediately feels a swell of guilt. Betty, before she lost her memories, always was good at brushing off his self-deprecating thoughts. He brings up the old mantras, playing them through his head as his shoes smack the sidewalk and cars chug, their windshield wipers flinging droplets his direction.

"If you wouldn't say it to a sad child's face, don't say it to yourself."

The rain leaves bubbly welts across his hands. Gary huffs, sprinting for all he's worth, and leaps on a big cement planter just to avoid the gutter spray splash from a car rolling by. His skin throbs, hands thrusting their weird mix of human and genie cells into repairing what damage the water did. Over and over, again and again… one scalding patch of skin at a time. And it looks good as new, until it touches water again.

[Cnt’d - FFN and AO3 links at top]

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 41: Into the Mines Pt. 1

THURSDAY - FALL 25

They were to all meet at the crack of dawn, though dawn was difficult to find these days.

Clouds could not be blamed for the town’s ever-present blanket in shadow, for the skies, though grey, were clear under the weak rays of a darkened sun. Despite the season, there was no wind. Not even a hint of a breeze. The air had turned still, stifling Stardew in a cold, thick, impenetrable mist. Murky figures seemed to lurk behind the blinks of closed eyes, and for two choice individuals in the Valley, whispers seemed to trail every footstep. 

Lewis had instructed more street lamps be lit, but their flames, like the sun, were pale. Townsfolk, eyes ringed in dark circles, spent their evenings huddled together by the roaring fire of the Stardrop Saloon, debating Abigail’s quest and the Valley’s plight in hushed tones, though few dared to directly name the spirits. 

Achilles had chosen to stay away from the crowds, though, like them, he had similarly failed to get a good night’s sleep since Abigail’s accident. The key difference between us, however, he thought as he groggily tugged on a pair of joggers, was that I very much needed one. 

In fact, he had barely slept at all since Marlon’s visit two nights ago, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d had a fistful of sleeping pill at the ready, but a last minute visit (though “unannounced intrusion” was perhaps a more apt word) from none other than Rasmodius the night before had forced him to stay his hand.

“You need your mind clear and unclouded,” the Wizard had growled, ignoring Achilles’ protests and flushing the little blue pills unceremoniously down the toilet before turning his attention to the matters at hand. 

Clear and unclouded my ass… what Achilles had right now pounding away in his mind was the Hyacinthia Philharmonic-Symphony’s 20 piece percussion section at 1000 some decibels. Fucking hell…

He spat out his toothpaste and slammed his medicine cabinet closed. Fucking fuck all of this. Fuck the Wizard. Fuck this town. Hell, fuck Eddie Bloomsbury might as well while we’re at it —

At once, low whispers began to trickle through the newly formed cracks of his mind. 

Oh fuck this shit. Achilles tingling fingertips curled into fists. Close your mind, you fuck. 

After near-waterboarding himself with overly aggressive splashes of water, he leaned against the cold marble of his countertop and took a deep breath. 

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson. I’m 27 years old. I live in Stardew Valley. I—

“Meow.” 

“VOLTAIRE.” 

Concentration broken, Achilles whipped wildly to face the fluffy cat, glaring crazed, red hot daggers as water continued to drip down his face and neck. 

Voltaire gave another meow, and Achilles sharply turned back to his reflection. 

Close your mind, close your mind…

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson… 

The whispers building outside his skull began to subside. Good… 

Achilles stomped out of the bathroom, Voltaire skipping after him, to grab the backpack he had packed the night before.

I’m 27 years old… 

He wrenched his keys from their tray. 

I was born in Monstera… 

He put on his boots. 

Close your mind… 

“Meow.” 

“I don’t care what Rasmodius says,” Achilles said, hurling a squeaky fuzzy mouse at the opposite wall. “You’re staying here.” 

“Meow.” 

“Meow all you want. Get out of the way, please.”

But the cat refused to abandon his post by the door. Even when Achilles lifted him up and lobbed him towards the kitchen, Voltaire had hurtled back at light speed before Achilles had even one foot out the door. 

“Voltaire!” he hissed, aiming a kick at the cat’s tail as he struggled to shove him aside. “You stay the fuck here.” 

It took several more false starts with the door before Achilles finally managed to slip out, slamming it swiftly on Voltaire’s whiskers. A sputter of angry cries could be heard through the heavy wood. 

“It’s for your own good, you rat bastard, you’ll thank me later,” Achilles grumbled, tightening his scarf. The still air was bitingly cold—the moon was still out, its silver light casting warped shadows through the bare tangle of branches. “If there is a later…” 

Don’t think about that, you bastard. Now get going, you’re running late… 

He took only one more half-second to watch the puffs of his breath fade away before scurrying down the steps of his porch. 

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson… I’m 27 years old… My cat is a pain in the ass… 

Something seized his arms from behind. 

“Oh fuck no—” Achilles gave a sprawling kick, which was followed by an “Ow, what the heck, Achilles?”—before squirming out of what he had been instinctively sure was a shadow spirit’s embrace. 

Alas, it was not. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, it’s barely half past 3 you little—”

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Believe it or not, I live here, Alex, you’re on my farm—Yoba, where else do you expect me to be—where the hell did you even come from—”

“I’ve been waiting on your porch.”

“Right. At 3:30 in the morning?” Achilles readjusted his backpack, which had fallen slightly off his shoulders in their scuffle. “Color me flattered. You could’ve knocked, you know.” He continued down the porch stairs, only to be yanked back once again.

“I didn’t want to disturb you if I didn’t have to… But I guess it looks like I have to.” 

“Right. Yes. Much disturbance.” Fucking hell. Achilles twisted himself out of Alex’s grasp again just as his nose began to do some twisty twitching of its own. Close your mind… 

Not to be outmaneuvered so easily, Alex sprinted to the bottom step to block Achilles’ path and crossed his arms. 

“Seriously? Alex, I really don’t have time for this, will you move?” 

“I know what you’re up to.” 

“Sheesh, you’re making it sound like I’m about to commit a felony.” Achilles tried to force a light tone as he attempted to skirt past, but the stony-faced, former grid ball player hadn’t seem to have lost his defense skills in his transition to swimming, and Achilles was easily rebuffed. 

“I’m serious, Ash” 

“As am I. I know I have sleep problems, but you think I get up at 3am just for fun? I don’t have a choice, man.” 

“Abigail checked out of the hospital yesterday. And then I overheard Clint mention something about iridium—and fencing. Figured the probability of you getting involved with this whole thing had to be high. Decided to camp out here…” 

Achilles took a step back and narrowed his eyes. Close your mind. “Congratulations. You figured it out.” He avoided Alex’s shrewd gaze, green eyes black in the moonlight, instead choosing to stare resolutely at one of the colossal pumpkins Shane had been growing in the distance whilst tapping his booted foot. 

But Alex wasn’t going to fall for his faux disinterest so easily “Yeah, yeah, don’t try to play me like that, all waiting around, trying to catch me off guard— ”

Interrupting the words, Achilles did indeed attempt to dodge past Alex, sprinting under his outstretched arms before getting violently yanked back once again. Honestly, it’d all be amusing if the stakes hadn’t been so high…  

“—Ow! Shit, that hurt—Yoba, Alex, what the fuck, is your plan to maim me—”

At his cry, Alex quickly relinquished his pinching grip, allowing Achilles to finally make it down the steps. Yoba, first the cat, now this man…

Close your mind! 

 “And you weren’t going to tell me? Or Elliott? Or Leah, or Emily—”

“If you’re trying to guilt me, it’s not going to work.” Achilles rubbed his arm and shot an irate glance over at Alex who was stubbornly following him out of Strawberry Farms. “It is, unfortunately for you, not an emotion I feel. I have to do this Alex—” 

“Guilt you—?” Alex retaliated with an exasperated glance of his own. “Ash, I’m trying to tell you people care about you—why are you doing this? You haven’t talked about the mines in weeks—and now you’re suddenly prepared to risk your whole dang life? You had a plan! You—you had other things. You’ve got two job offers in Hyacinthia— go! Go live that life, you don’t have to do this—” 

Achilles couldn’t spare any sort of pause in step, but he did spare Alex yet another scathing look, clearly illuminated under the moonlight. “So you’d rather I leave Stardew?” 

“Yoba, Achilles, I’d rather you stay safe—”

Do you genuinely think I actually want to fucking do this… Achilles shook his head. All the same, the sentiment was… nice… Alex cared… 

Stop that! Close your mind, you fuck. 

“Hark, spoken to Abigail lately? Talked her out of risking her life?”

“Well I haven’t got much leverage now that Caroline and Pierre have somehow blessed this whole thing, have I? Who am I going to tell on for you—Lewis?” 

If that had been Alex’s idea of a joke to break the tension, Achilles wasn’t having any of it. Close your mind close your mind. Yoba, this was the last thing—the last person—he needed showing up on his door step, if Rasmodius’ guidance was to be followed…

He quickened his pace, shoving past Alex, who seemed hesitant to grab him again, though he continued to morosely trail after Achilles. 

“Look, I know I can’t talk Abigail out of it—but Achilles, for you, can ya blame me for trying—”

“Coming out here at 3am.” Achilles shouted to drown out Alex’s word. “Really, I have to admire the commitment—”

“—if I had even the smallest chance with you, I’d kick myself forever if I didn’t at least try, it worked once—” 

They had just passed the edge of Strawberry Farms when the sound of shattering of glass, followed by a yowl, pierced the air. 

“Oh, Yoba fucking dammit it all to hell—” Achilles stopped in his tracks, torn between expending what little disposable energy he had to run the rest of the way to the mines and turning back to lock his cat (and maybe Alex) in the storage closet. 

Taking advantage of the hesitation, Alex dove right in, barely pausing to breathe.

“Do you really think you can protect Abigail down there? You don’t know what you’re dealing with, I know you used to fence, but come on, man, it’s different, you said so yourself—you don’t know how to deal with spirits and monsters and demons and who the heck knows what else—I mean, does Abigail really need you? What if you just get in her way—” 

“Switching tactics, I see. So what’s on the list after blisteringly insulting me?” 

“Look, I’ll try anything once. If it gets you to listen. Did it work?” 

“No. Goodbye.” 

“Achilles—”

“Alex. Stop. Shut it and… just leave. Fucking hell…”

For a fraction of a second, hurt seemed to flash across Alex’s face, but Achilles determinedly turned away. He had other things to worry about right now—namely, his running late to an affair of the utmost importance and danger in which he had had no say in his partaking. Also, the survival of the Valley. That was something to worry about, too. 

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he was already on the edge of misery, and the sight of Voltaire galloping towards them had sent him careening right over it. 

And the whispers. Whispers waiting outside his mind, sensing the cracks in what was supposed to be an emotionless, detached concentration, had begun to press their way in.  

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson. I’m 27 years old. I live in Stardew Valley. Close your mind you stupid fuck. Close your mind. 

“Achilles,” Alex began haltingly, his hand grasping air before awkwardly settling on Achilles’ shoulder. “You don’t want to do this. I know you don’t, I know you think you should want to, but you don’t—”

Achilles whirled around. “You’re right, Alex. I don’t. But you see, it doesn’t matter what I want, it never did, I don’t have a choice, I have to do this—”

“And you can’t wait just one more year? For Yoba’s sake, Achilles, do you even know how to use a sword—a real sword—“ 

“There’s no time, Alex! I wish there was, but there… there isn’t.”

Achilles had paid a visit to the community center yesterday. Marlon had been right—it was worse than he could have imagined. The roof had collapsed in; shards of tile and splintered wood had made it difficult to explore. A thick, rotten smell clung to every room, and dark were the singed stains of the center’s floors where curls of red smoke slowly unfurled. Whatever war the junimos were waging there on the Astral Plane, they were losing. Bad. 

“Now just… just fuck off, will you?” There was no mistaking the hurt in Alex’s eyes this time, and it cut Achilles like a knife. Goddammit… 

But he forced himself to turn away, pinching his nose as he scooped up Voltaire. “Or just… just stop talking. Please. I need to… close my fucking mind…” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just… something very important the Wizard taught me last night that you are very much getting in the way of right now.” Achilles offered the cat to Alex. Small gashes from Voltaire’s scrambling claws already etched his fingers.  “Just go home. And take the fucking cat with you, will you?” 

“The Wizard?”

“No, what—Yoba, I just said the cat—oh, I see. Yes. Yes, the Wizard.” 

“He spoke to you yesterday? So he knows? And he’s on board with all this now—we’re just going to forget about how you swore you’d never trust the guy just a few weeks ago—” 

Achilles’ mind was ready to burst. The whispers had grown louder, squeezing their way into his mind, growing heavy as they grew ready to feast on every one of his thoughts, swelling his anxiety—

“Alex can you please just shut the fuck up for half a second?” Achilles dropped the yowling cat, already turning away. “I have to go down, Alex. I have to go down. Today. I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other choice. Please. It’s for the Valley. Just trust me.” 

“So Corvus was right. It has to be you?” 

“It has to be me.” 

*****

To Achilles’ significant annoyance, neither Alex nor Voltaire had agreed to leave his side, though, mercifully, they had both taken it upon themselves to at least “shut the fuck up.” The silence, and the meditative walk to the mines, had allowed Achilles to once again regain his composure and patch the holes in the mental walls that Rasmodius had walked him through erecting the night before. 

“You’re late.” 

Rasmodius, Marlon, and Gil were waiting for them at the entrance of the cave. 

“Blame this one.” Achilles tossed a dirty look at Alex who, to his twisted satisfaction, was in no mood to fight back now that they had arrived at the mines. The moment they had made it past the funny raccoon statue in the mountains, Alex had noticeably grown weaker, whatever “bad luck” effect the mines had on him growing stronger and stronger with each step. 

Pale and trembling, his face glistening with sweat under the cool blue torchlight, Alex half-collapsed against the wall of the cave. Even so, his weakened condition didn’t stop him from halfheartedly exclaiming, “I’m coming, too.” 

Marlon merely gave him a pitying look, but Achilles accompanied his withering scowl with, “Like hell you are, looking like that. You’re a right mess.” 

“No, no, I can… I can do it…”

Alex rose slowly from the wall and took a weary step forward. 

“Absolutely not. Sit your ass back down. Here, watch the damn cat for me—”

“No, I can help—”

Lord. He’d have to take the low road on this. 

“You’d be a distraction. We’ve no idea what your gift is, but given that you’re tottering around like a drunk and we haven’t even gone down the mines yet, I don’t see how you could be remotely helpful.” 

True as they were, those were the last words he wanted to use, and delivering them felt akin to a million cat claws dragged across his skin. But time was of the essence, and he’d have to be as brutal as possible if he wanted Alex to stay here. And stay safe. 

“We don’t have time to watch over you. It’ll be safer if it’s just us two.” 

Whether it was his words or the harshness of his tone—or perhaps, even a new wave of mine-induced nausea that was searing itself into Alex’s psyche—Achilles wasn’t sure, but Alex finally seemed to accept the situation, sliding down the wall and nodding weakly. 

But whereas Alex looked three seconds away from fainting, Abigail had proven to have bounced back from her accident faster than any ordinary girl had any right to. With a concussion, a sprained knee and ankle, a horrendous burn along her forearm, numerous cuts and bruises, and a fresh black eye under her belt, it was a miracle she was even able to stand after little more than one day.

But stand she did, both feet planted firm and strong into the granite of the cave as she chatted merrily away with Sam and Sebastian, who must’ve come to see her off. In her hand, she wielded a new blade, black as night. 

“This is for you, son.” Marlon handed Achilles the iridium sword that Clint must’ve smithed yesterday. He gave it an experimental jab. Long and thin, it must’ve weighed little more than a can of soup. 

Now Rasmodius strolled forward. 

“You are bringing the cat, as I instructed? Excellent—”

“No, he’s staying here.” Achilles once again attempted to fling the animal only to receive yet another cut on his fingers. “I’m not bringing my cat down there, Rasmodius, it’s irresponsible—”

“You will do better if he comes, I assure you,” Rasmodius said sternly, shoving the cat back into Achilles’ stiff arms. “Now…” he gripped Achilles’ shoulders tightly. “Are you closing your mind?” 

Fuck! 

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson. 

“Yes— or at least trying to…” 

“You will have to do better than try if you want to succeed.” In a lower tone, he added, “You remember what I told you?” 

I’m 27 years old.

“Yes… fucking crash course it was, if you had just taught me earlier like I’d asked, we might not be in this fucking last minute mess—”

“Stop thinking about me, boy, and focus!” 

I can see the cracks in your mind from miles away.

Achilles snarled, shoving Rasmodius’ telepathic voice out from his head. But he took a deep breath and refocused. 

“Close your mind. Picture yourself… the flowers…” Rasmodius’ voice was soft, inviting. “What we discussed…” 

In the greenhouse of his mind, he drew forth a bleeding heart, the flower he and Rasmodius had decided to use as his focus. 

I live in Stardew Valley. My mom’s name is Apolline Desrosiers. My dad’s name is Perry Robinson.

“Better.” Rasmodius gave him a pat on the shoulder and took a step back. 

“I wish this task had never need come to you. I wish I could go down in your stead. But I cannot. I can only wish you good luck.” 

And with that, the Wizard hurriedly left the mines. 

“Get that scarf off, boy, a spirit could grab it.” 

“But Abigail says it can get cold down there!” 

“You’ll warm quickly enough, you will,” Gil insisted, yanking the scarf off and throwing it wildly behind him. “That fancy watch of yours ain’t gonna work down there, either, no it won’t. Might as well take it off. Your phone, too, yes. Nothin’ digital.” 

“So it doesn’t work, who the fuck cares—” 

“Here.” With a deep frown, Alex slowly stood and reached for Achilles’ hand to unclasp the watch. He removed his own and, with a rather aggressive yank, tightened the worn leather perhaps one hole too tight around Achilles’ wrist, adding with an testy mutter, “Sorry you won’t be able to measure your steps.” 

“Enough chit chat, we’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get moving,” Marlon snapped, and Achilles followed him to the elevator. “Abigail, come.” 

Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail, who had been chatting animatedly in the corner, broke apart. 

Achilles was surprised Sebastian had nothing to say about the whole affair. But despite all the ruckus the boy had made way back in the Spring, he seemed, if not totally approving, begrudgingly accepting of Abigail’s decision. Achilles supposed he must’ve had quite a bit of time to get used to it—the rest of the town may have missed it, but Sebastian had been the first to pick up on Abigail’s spirit-battling antics back even in the Spring. 

And to top it off, to Achilles’ surprise, the boy gave Abigail a firm kiss on the cheek. Achilles must’ve missed quite a bit indeed… 

Focus! 

No kiss on the cheek from Alex, that was for sure—not that Achilles had been expecting (or hoping, really, for) one. Only an incredibly penetrating glare that made it clear he hadn’t forgiven Achilles for either his remarks or his actions. Alex did, however, offer a stiff embrace, and in Achilles’ arms, he seemed to melt ever so slightly, taking the last second to run his hand up through Achilles’ unbrushed hair.

This close, Achilles could smell him. Not the floral citrus of his deodorant or the salt that perpetually clung to his hair—just Alex. And a crushing ache seized his heart. 

Close your mind, you fuck. Don’t think about him. 

“Shit hits the fan, you both head straight back.”

“Just walk away.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Alex said with the ghost of a smile. “Just like your dad taught you. Except I’d… I don’t know. At least run. Instead of walk.” 

They pulled apart—too soon, Achilles thought, and yet maybe also not soon enough. 

Abigail took his hand, Voltaire already situated lightly around her neck.  

“You ready?” She seemed, not unexpectedly, excited, though the accident from two days ago must’ve humbled her somewhat. There was a hint of trepidation in her tone he hadn’t ever heard before, and a small furrow between her brows. 

He took a deep breath. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

Marlon pressed the elevator button. It was waiting for them. Immediately, the door opened with a creak and they stepped inside. Marlon held each of their hands before taking a step back to join the others. “Good luck to you both.” Gil tipped his hat, and the doors slid shut. 

A whole host of buttons filled the rightmost wall. Back in the spring, there had only been five.  

“You did all this?” Achilles murmured. “All by yourself…” 

Abigail pressed 105. With a clunk, the elevator began to descend and, as if given the green light, whispers began to once again flicker at the back of Achilles mind. 

Close your mind… 

Voltaire gave him a gentle nip on the ear.  Abigail squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll be okay,” she said. “You’ll be okay!” 

Will you?