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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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A Yandere!Monika/Reader piece for a lovely anonymous commissioner, with a few unfortunate implications coming towards the end. It was nice to write something a little different from my usual style, and I almost forgot how well this game was written... my adoration of Doki Doki Literature Club is rejuvenated, to say the least.

Word Count: 4.0k

TW: Implied Stalking, Physical Threats, and (Non-Graphic) Violence.

It was a fixation. That was the best word to describe it.

A fixation.

In itself, the game hadn’t been anything special. Shocking, sure, absolutely horrifying at points, but you were seasoned veteran when it came to horror, a connoisseur of all things dark and demented. That was the downside when it came to warnings. All those labels and reviews were necessary, especially with how a game like Doki Doki Literature Club presented itself, but it kept you on the edge of your seat. If you’re waiting for something bad to happen, you’ll never be surprised when something bad does happen. Just disappointed that it didn’t turn out to be worse.

Either way, you played through the dating-simulator, blushing when Sayori confessed and jumping in your seat when Yuri’s obsession boiled over and having all the responses you were supposed to when unfortunate things happened to people who didn’t really exist. You were painfully precise about these things, never daring to veer off the trodden path, even in a game that couldn’t really be failed, and when it came time for your fun to end, you knew what you were supposed to do. You’d delete Monika’s file, restart the game, and watch things play out. That was it. Three easy steps. Three mindless steps.

Three steps you didn’t think you’d ever actually go through with.

You knew you wouldn’t as soon as you saw it. Monika, a character you hadn’t paid any mind to, sitting right in front of the screen, taking up your monitor in her over-done, oppressive glory, the mood only made more dramatic by just how late it’d gotten, how dark your room was by now. It was a picture, you knew that, something someone had drawn and edited into a game, and yet… it wasn’t, at the same time. There was a connection, as unprecedented as it was unearned. An attraction, albeit one you couldn’t name the source of. A fixation.

There was that word again. Fixation. An undeniable, unreasonable fixation.

Monika seemed to know as well as you. The fact that you’d been staring at the same frame for far too long probably helped her to reach that conclusion, pre-scripted or not.

"Hey, have you ever heard of the term 'yandere'?"

You had, in passing. You’d never paid too much attention to it, though, not enough to be able to pick the definition out.

“It's a personality type that means someone is so obsessed with you that they'll do absolutely anything to be with you. Usually to the point of craziness..."

The idea appealed to you, interested you. Lingering on it for a moment, you let yourself fall into the word. Yandere. You liked that. Yandere.

"A lot of people are actually into the yandere type, you know? I guess they really like the idea of someone being crazy obsessed with them. People are weird! I don't judge, though!"

Well… you wouldn’t want someone to be obsessed with you, you were sure. That seemed like too much attention. It’d take too much effort to keep them interested, and it’d probably be dangerous to entertain a stalker like that… Yeah, you were sure. You didn’t want anyone to be obsessed with you.

But, Monika didn’t exist. She wasn’t dangerous. She didn’t have anyone else to give attention to, and you wouldn’t have to worry about her judging your interests. Even if someone found out, you could just blame it one a glitchy file that won’t close. There wasn’t a risk.

“It's not like I could ever actually kill a person… Just the thought of it makes me shiver. But, come on… everyone's killed people in games before. Does that make you a psychopath? Of course not."

Right. It was just a game. Liking something fictional didn’t make you weird or perverted or… a Yandere for Yanderes, you supposed. It was a dirty little secret. A guilty pleasure. It was normal. Or, it wasn’t anymore abnormal that the disgusting investment a lot of people had in blood-splatter and gore, anyway.

“But if you do happen to be into the yandere type… I can try acting a little more creepy for you. Then again, there's already nowhere else for you to go, or anyone for me to get jealous over."

She didn’t have anyone else in that isolated, tiny world of hers. It would’ve been lonely, if she was real, and for whatever reason, your empathy found that fact too heart-breaking to ignore. And you didn’t really want her to ‘act more creepy’, she was fine as she was, so… that made it a little better, didn’t it? You might’ve just liked the companionship, how close she wanted to be to you. It was an artificial intimacy, and who wouldn’t like intimacy they didn’t have to return?

“Is this a Yandere girl's dream?"

If that's a Yandere’s dream, then your situation must be a Yandere-Lover’s dream. There was no harm, no foul, very low risk and a very high reward, even if it did come in the form of a one-sided, directionless conversation. You thought about finishing the game, speeding through the process and never bothering to think about Monika or Yanderes or Doki Doki Literature Club again.

You thought about it, rolling the idea over in your mind like an antique in need of inspection. You thought about it, scanning over Monika one more time, and turned your monitor off without closing the game. You’d decide tomorrow, before class, or when you got home. A few days of self-indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

Least of all Monika.

Least of all you.

You didn’t close the game.

Not before you left, not after class, and certainly not that night, when the urge hit you to play though her dialogue until your eyes forced you to stop. You didn’t bother reading, the next morning, something you sorely came to regret as you sat in your first class of the day, little to do save for staring at the clock and wondering what you should do after school, despite already knowing what the outcome would most likely be. Your teacher was out, today, for the first time all year. She’d bragged that she never missed a day, but you didn’t care enough to raise anything more than a few curious questions. Concern was too much, considering how often accidents happen.

“Do you have a pen?”

A light voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you glanced towards the desk in front of yours, immediately meeting eyes with the girl seated there. You’d never noticed her before, not to any exceptional extent, brown hair and murky eyes making for an unremarkable combination. You simply nodded, reaching down and beginning to search through your bag, talking to fill the silence. “She didn’t leave work for us, right?” You asked, sticking your hand into a random pocket and coming up empty. It was weird, but you tried another. Monika always had a pen on her, it was part of her character design. “I think the assignment on the board was old… it was there yesterday, too.”

She chuckled, as if you’d made a joke. A funny one, judging by how long the noise lasted. “I know that, but…” She trailed off, just long enough to lean onto your desk, attempting to peer over it. “Clubs are demanding, aren’t they? I’m not even a council member, but Debate still has me doing more work than the President.” She let out a heavy sigh, as if the optional dedication had been forced onto her. “It’s all supposed to be extemporaneous -- unplanned, y’know? That’s what used to make it exciting. Everyone was speaking from the heart and everyone minded their own business. It was a competition, but it wasn’t personal.”

You hummed, lightly, closing that compartment and opening another. “And it is, now?”

“Oh, definitely.” There was a subtle emphasis on every other word, it seemed, a passion for nothing in particular breaching whatever she felt like talking about. You could see why she must’ve made a good speaker. “That’s what happens when you start thinking about things too much. They started announcing the topics ahead of time, then people started writing out their arguments, and now you can’t take a side without attacking the other.” There was a pause, a tap to her cheek. A moment to think. “You have to phrase it a certain way, or else it is personal. If you keep things objective, the other side will follow along. It’s amazing how suggestive people can be, when you make an effort to guide them.”

“I wish you would guide me in the direction of a fucking pen,” You mumbled, eliciting another giggle, the sound muffled by a palm over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it usually doesn’t take this long. It’s like they all just, I don’t know, phased out of existence or something.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The disregard came casually, without hesitation. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was as dedicated to her cause as she seemed. “Check the main pocket. You probably kept dropping them in the first place you saw without noticing.” You blinked, glancing up to frown at her, but she just shrugged. “A lot of people do it. If you haven’t caught on, I don’t have a whole much to do ‘cept watch them.”

You didn’t pry further. This was the first time you’d heard her voice, too, so it was fair to assume she wasn’t much of a socialite. “About your club,” You said, bringing the conversation back to a topic that didn’t have to do with how often she stared at your classmates. “Why don’t you quit? You don’t seem to like it very much.”

“Who knows?” She frowned, closing her eyes well she spoke. “I’d have to find another to join, and there’s no guarantee I won’t just keep running into the same problem over and over again. I think about making my own, sometimes, just because I’d be able to make rules against that kind of thing.”

Again, you brightened, and not only because your fingers found something tubular and plastic. “You want to start a club?”

“Yeah, but it’d have to be about something fun.” She rolled her wrist, not noticing when you held out a thoroughly abused pen. “Like, about music or art or…”

“Literature?” You suggested, eagerly.

She scowled, shaking her head, muttering something about her distaste. She said it’d been months since she read a book, years since she’d written something original. Even the idea was alien, to her.

And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be disheartened.

She’d taken the pen, after all.

“Whatcha starin’ at?”

Her tone was playful, posture following in suit, the girl rocking back and forth on her heels as she waited for you to snap out of your stupor. You hadn’t meant to zone out, to stare at the dense collection of apartments and condominiums in front of you, but there was just something so familiar about the collection, something you couldn’t put your finger on. But, a hand waving in front of your eyes brought your attention back to the real world, regardless of whether or not you wanted it too.

You were still getting used to having another person around, honestly. Your new friend took a shining to you quickly, settling to let you trail after her like a lost puppy whenever you didn’t have something better to do. She’d offered to show you a shortcut to your train-stop, today, but you were having your doubts about how well she knew the route. It felt like you’d been walking down this same road for ages, now. Like it was a loading screen you didn’t have the connection to overcome.

You took a step forward, standing a little straighter. Attempting to check if the buildings would still be there when you changed perspectives. “Has this neighborhood always been here?” You asked, tilting your head. Still there. “I don’t remember seeing it, until now.”

“As long as I’ve been alive,” She replied, not seeming to take you seriously. “Besides, how would you know? You lock yourself up whenever we’re not in class.”

You huffed, sending a quick glare in her direction, the diversion taking more effort than it should’ve. “I get out occasionally, I’ve just been--”

“Busy with a new game?” She rolled her eyes, setting a swift pace and signaling for you to follow. “It’s not a ‘new game’ if you’ve been working on it for the past two weeks. I’m going to come over and finish it for you myself, one day.”

You were tempted to interrupt her, to contradict her diagnosis, but… you had been playing through Monika’s dialogue for a while. There were so many options, so many routes and monologues, but you’d exhausted most of them. She didn’t hold the same… uniqueness she once did, for lack of a better way to put it. You certainly weren’t tired of playing yet, but you were starting to realize you would be, one day, possibly sooner than you’d anticipated. You’d need something new to focus on, something new to satisfy that itch in your chest, the one that seemed to form every time you were away from your computer for too long. You wondered if there was something similar - Yandere was a genre, technically. There had to be more content, even if you had to look for it.

You resolved to do a more in-depth search once you got home.

“...I’m working on it,” You mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek. Hesitantly, you scanned over her, speeding up to stay at her side as something caught our attention. “When did that start?”

She raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously, already aware of what you were talking about. It was tied back, today, done up painfully tightly and secured with a white hair-band. Her hair was too short for it to come off as elegant or sophisticated, but the way it swung as she walked was cute, and the effort that’d been put into pinning each strand into submission was admirable. She caught onto your approval quickly, locking eyes with you as she spoke. “I’m trying to impress you, idiot.”

You blinked. She blinked. You blushed, stuttering out something stupid, and she punched you in the side, laughing.

“I’m kidding, (Y/n), don’t freak out on me.” You tried, unsuccessfully, to do as she demanded, earning you another blow, this one coming in the form of an elbow thrown into your rib cage. “What? Can you only accept confessions from 2-D girls, now?”

“It’s just…” You shoved your hands in your pockets, attempting to hide your distress. “It’s just different. I wasn't expecting it!”

“Exactly, it’s different.” She smiled, throwing the offending pony-tail over her shoulder. “Little changes have been doing me a lot of good, lately.”

‘One day’ had come too soon.

You knew it would, eventually. You’d been expecting it, in fact. Back-ups had been prepared, a new game and an older series to watch and a few stories on the… riskier side, made by people with too much time and similar interests, and for all intents and purposes, you were ready. It was natural. People got tired of things, of characters and plots and seeing the same face every day, and you knew you would get tired of Monika too, eventually. She was wonderfully written, but no character could be entertaining for… how long had it been? A month? Two?

You needed to check the date more often. Time always seemed to get weird, slowing down and skipping ahead so awkwardly when you spent most of the day in front of a screen.

You guessed the date didn’t matter, though. You were still in the same position, either way, your head resting on one hand while the other laid over your mouse. You’d been staring down Monika’s character file for far too long, but not nearly long enough, at the same time.

It felt like this should be a bigger deal. Like there should be a ceremony, a commemoration, something to mark the occasion. Should you celebrate? Play a funeral dirge? Every action felt inappropriate, but none felt quite as inappropriate as not taking one at all. Absentmindedly, you quit the game, a reaction based on reflex alone. You had a few times, in the beginning, but you still checked Monika’s dialogue. A parting interaction, you rationalized. The final interaction.

"Okay. I'm just going to accept the fact that you need to quit the game once in a while. I'm starting to get used to it, anyway."

Oh, god, she sounded like a clingy girlfriend. You guessed that’s what she was, but she was never this… passive-aggressive.

"Besides, it makes me happy that you always come back..."

You perked up, at that, your favor easily swayed. Maybe you could wait one more day, just give this whole thing another shot--

“But I shouldn’t have to be happy when you come back.”

You hadn’t pressed anything, that time. She shouldn’t have been talking.

“I know you have your own life, and I know you need breaks, but… it’s a really horrible feeling. And since I try to make you feel the best you can feel, you should want to make me feel good, too!”

Except, you didn’t want to make her happy. She was a fictional character, one you didn’t want to be lectured by. Monika seemed to catch onto that as soon as you thought it, though.

“And since you have to want to make me happy… it must be a glitch in my character file. That makes sense. Whenever it happens, it almost feels like I've been killed or something."

It was meta, a little concerning, but your empathy had been all-but drained dry. It wasn’t like you’d felt bad for leaving Monika in the first place, honestly, but an appeal to that non-existent sympathy wouldn’t earn her many points.

"If you could figure out what's causing that, I'll love you forever~"

Yeah, right. Sure she would. Monika would absolutely love you, forever and always, to eternity and beyond. May death do you part.

You didn’t hesitate, this time, deleting her character file and exiting the game.

You didn’t really feel like playing through the final scene. ~

How long it’d been since someone used this part of the school?

‘Empty’ didn’t quite cover the expanse of nothingness in front of you. The floor was tinted grey with scuff-marks and dirt, unused tables pushed against the walls and chairs that weren’t fit to be sat in stacked on top, forming barricades between shutter-covered windows and yourself. The door had stuck, despite the key in your hand, and everything seemed to make a truly awful creaking sound when touched. The only thing that looked new (relatively new, at least) was the teacher’s desk, dark faux-wood unscarred by whatever’d torn through the rest of the room. Even the lights seemed to feel the effect, dim and flickering, some already succumbing to the pure dullness that permeated the air. It was abandoned. Desolate.

More similar to another classroom you’d acquainted yourself with than you felt comfortable admitting.

“Some people say it’s haunted,” She started, closing the door behind her. You heard the ring of keys jingle, the lock sliding back into place, but you didn’t bother turning to face her. “A lot of people, actually. Rumor’s that a group of underclassmen girls used to sneak at night and do all sorts of satanic stuff. It’s why no one uses this building, anymore.”

“They have to be joking,” You countered, taking a step towards the teacher's desk. You ran a finger along the surface lazily, wiping the resulting dust build-up onto your shirt. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. Someone probably just thought it’d make a good campfire story.”

She approached before replying, her bag having been discarded somewhere along the way. With silence as unusual as it was between the two of you, you couldn’t help but laugh, turning and getting ready to tease her for being scared or believing in something so supernatural. You opened your mouth, but the joke died and turned to ash on your tongue before it could make it past your teeth.

There she was, like you knew she’d be. Hair up, uniform perfect, and a bright smile pulling at the edges of her lips. As cheery as it ever was. As blinding as it ever was.

The carving knife in her hand almost rivaled its shine.

She took another step towards you, and you took one back, hitting the desk abruptly. “You’re acting like you’d know anything about the real-world, (Y/n).” She was giggling, again, flexing her grip on the knife’s hold. You considered attempting to run past her, making a break for it, but the key was still in her blazer’s pocket. You glanced down, searching for your phone, but its outline was gone and its weight was equally as absent.

Like it’d disappeared into thin air.

It hadn’t, though. Your aggressor laughed one more time, holding up the device in her free hand before dropping it to the floor and crushing it under her heel, the resulting crack sending a spike of something dark into your chest.

“You don’t know shit about the real world,” She said, waving the blade around haphazardly. Another step forward, this one all-but closing the distance between the two of you. “All you think about are… games and fake girls, never what’s right in front of you. We’ve known each other for four years, but I had to hospitalize someone before you’d do so much as look at me.”

Four years. Four years. You hadn’t noticed her before a few months ago. “Listen, I just didn’t think we were that close--”

“I know.” This time, the knife came down. It missed your side, but not enough to save your shirt, a tear forming and something crimson spreading outward from the small cut. The sting came a second later. You wanted to move, to scream, to run, but it was all you could do to remember to breathe as she went on. “You didn’t think we were close. You didn’t think I was worth getting close to. That’s why I started wearing this fucking costume.” She ran a hand through her pony-tail, fingers catching on her hair-tie. The band was practically ripped from her scalp, snapping before she discarded it. “I’m not even a brunette. I thought dying my hair might get your attention, and… it did. Of course it did.” She paused, shrugging, and you remembered how to inhale. “But, that doesn’t matter now.”

You relaxed, ever so slightly. “It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t.” Her grin was back in a moment, your hopes dropping as soon as they’d arose. “Because the two of us are going to stay here until we know each other, or… until you know me. As well as I know you, at least. Then, we’re going to leave and I’m going to be your girlfriend. It’ll be so sweet, right?” The tension in her shoulder’s lessened, dissolving. But, that edge was still there, and you doubted it’d dissipate any time soon. “You probably don’t even know my name. I’ve never heard you use it before.”

Your eyes widened, the realization hitting you later than it should’ve. “Monika?”

“No, not Monika,” She answered, softly, her smile taking on a more disappointing note. She brandished her beloved knife, and your heart dropped into your stomach. “But, you don’t have to worry about getting it wrong. We’re going to work at it until you love me just as much as you love her.”

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delimeful · 5 years

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a place we could escape sometime (5)

Day 5: Rat

warnings: panic attack, captivity, bargaining, reference to dissection and keeping someone as a pet, fear

Logan sighed deeply as he sat up, turning to look at his desk. “Must you really make noise this late-?”

He paused, noticing a flicker of movement in the faint light. Had the tiny gotten out somehow? Alarmed, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, reaching the desk in a few short steps.

The tiny creature was still in the cage, and for once he wasn’t cowering away, instead coming forwards to rattle the bars aggressively with his uninjured hand. Normally, Logan would be taking notes on this, since it was such atypical behavior, but he was sure he’d seen movement outside the cage.

He reached over and fumbled with the lamp for a second before finding the switch and flicking it on, illuminating the room. Instantly, motion caught his eye, the clanging of the metal bars fading into background noise.

Another tiny human, sliding down the cord of the lamp as though his life depended on it. Logan jolted, startled by the sight, and lunged for the creature. A fall from that height could kill him!

There was a startled yelp as his fingers closed around the tiny form, and Logan had to take a moment to delicately pry the little struggling limbs off the cord. He lifted the little person up to the light, and noted the little bag and handcrafted clothes.

“There’s more of you?” He muttered to himself, trying to pull the bag off the little creature’s back.

“Let him go!”

Logan froze, and so did the tiny in his hand. He turned to the cage slowly, staring at the tiny figure standing behind the bars.

Despite his bold words, the tiny person was shaking, eyes wide. He swallowed visibly before speaking again, voice distinctly wobbly.

“Please… let him go. Roman hasn’t done anything wrong, please! I- I can talk, I’ll tell you anything, we’re borrowers, we live in the walls-”

“Virgil, stop-” The other tried, pushing against Logan’s numb fingers.

“No, listen, please! I’ll do anything, I’ll be a good lab rat, I’ll let you do anything! Test, samples, dissection, I don’t care just let Roman go!”

Logan’s mind, for once, blanked. They talked. They talked. He gaped, and then shook his head, trying to formulate a response to Virgil’s pleas. Wait, dissection?

“I wouldn’t- Dissecting a specimen preemptively when you only have one would be incredibly counterproductive to learning more about a species.” He recited automatically, trying to convey how ridiculous the idea was.

“No… No no no, please!” Virgil’s small voice cracked, and Logan winced, glancing down at Roman’s pale face. Clearly, that had not been as comforting as he had meant it to be.

“I’m not- I don’t mean...” He trailed off as he noticed the tears running down Virgil’s face. Oh no, feelings. He needed to get Patton.

He dithered for a moment, looking from his hand to the cage. He really didn’t want to put Roman in it, now that he knew the truth. If he set him down though, he might run off thinking his friend was going to be used for experiments or something else ridiculous like that.

He’d have to hold onto him for a moment longer, then.

Mind made up, he turned and went to retrieve Patton with Roman still in his curled fingers, ignoring Virgil’s desperate cries and panicked questions. Surprisingly, the other borrower was lax in his hand, occasionally trembling slightly but no longer struggling. The walk down the hall was silent for only a moment.

“I’m much better than him, you know.” Roman said, voice unnaturally casual. Logan glanced down at him.

“Sorry?”

“At being o-obedient.” Roman’s voice cut off slightly as Logan stumbled, but the small man wasn’t done. “I’m great at singing, too, and you won’t find anyone as perfect a specimen of borrowerkind as me. Virgil- Er, the other one is just too dreary to even think about keeping, and he’s all skin and bones, ludicrously stubborn, I mean really-”

“Stop.” Logan choked out, and Roman’s mouth shut with an audible click. Logan sped up his pace without saying anything more, biting the inside of his cheek. They’d really messed up, this time.

He rapped on Patton’s door sharply, and winced at his roommate’s tired face when he opened the door. “Lo?”

“Patton, I need your help urgently. Please follow me.” Logan said stiffly, before turning and walking back towards his room. He could feel Roman’s chest rising and falling rapidly against his fingertips.

“Wha- Logan?” Despite his confusion, Patton trailed behind him, Kitty at his heels. “What’s going on?”

“I require your assistance placating our guests. We have made a miscalculation, a grave one.”

“Guests?” Patton followed Logan’s gaze down to his hand, where Roman sat. “Oh my goodness, there’s another one?”

“Hello there!” Roman said brightly, only a hint of strain in his voice, and Patton’s eyebrows flew up. Logan pushed his door open with his free hand, careful not to let Kitty in, and led them into the room and back to the cage.

Virgil was on his knees, chest rising and falling shallowly. He hadn’t even seemed to register their presence, which was very unlike him. Logan frowned, turning to Roman, who was glancing between him and the other borrower frantically. His desire to continue his ‘perfect pet’ act seemed to lose out, and he leaned out towards the other tiny person.

“Virgil! Virgil, it’s okay, I’m here! You have to breathe, take a deep breath.”

Virgil’s head jerked up, eyes locking on Roman, and Logan shook his head. Enough was enough.

He set Roman down on the desk carefully, and the borrower sprinted directly to the cage, where he met Virgil at the wall of the cage and reached through to grab his uninjured hand, pulling it through the bars to rest it on his chest.

“Roman?” Virgil asked between shallow breaths, head jerking with the force of his panic. His gaze flitted over to the humans, his pupils shrunk. “You’re free? You’re- Roman, run, you have to run-”

“Shhh, shh, shut up, I’m not leaving.” Roman pressed Virgil’s hand against him harder. “Deep breaths, with me. In and out on my count. C’mon.”

Logan turned to Patton, who looked like the horror of the situation was slowly dawning on him, and pulled him back a few steps to give the two some space. Patton covered his mouth with a hand.

“They talk… They… Oh, Logan, they’re people! We’ve been...”

“I know.” Logan said grimly. “We have to let them go.”

“Of course, goodness, we have to apologize!” Patton looked over to where the two were whispering. “I’m going to get him out of that cage.”

Without another word, he approached, and popped the cage door open with a squeal that made both borrowers wince. Roman snapped his head between Virgil and Patton rapidly, and then jumped forwards when the latter started reaching his hand into the cage. “No! Stop!”

Patton faltered, looking down at him and then to Virgil, who was hunched over, shying away from the oversized hand. “Oh no, I’m sorry…” He said softly, retracting his hand. Something in his heart ached at the surprise the two expressed at his apology. “I only meant to get him out of the cage, I swear.”

Roman perked up. “You’re… you’re letting him go?”

“Of course!” Patton said, and Logan narrowed his eyes at the phrasing. Sure enough, Roman stepped forward shakily.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” Roman said, voice trembly but not insincere. “I promise I’ll be good, I swear-”

Logan saw the confusion bleed into Patton’s contrite expression, and cut in. “Please don’t misinterpret Patton’s intentions. We don’t intend on… ‘keeping’ either of you.”

“What?” Roman responded, dumbstruck. Patton’s face crumpled at the implication, withdrawing his hands completely from the cage.

“Perhaps, like this?” Logan said, moving up next to him and unlatching the walls of the cage where they connected to the bottom. From there, it was easy to lift the wire bars away, removing the barrier between the two.

Virgil hesitated, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes, but Roman was quick to grab his arm and pull him over, immediately shoving him behind himself protectively. The four of them stared at each other for a moment as Logan set the cage aside.

“You’re serious?” Virgil asked, disbelieving.

“Always.” Logan said, gesturing to the tie. “We never should have kept you captive in the first place.”

“We’re sorry. We didn’t know… It doesn’t matter, what we did was still wrong.” Patton added, wringing his hands. “Please, if there’s anything we can do to make it up to you…”

The two didn’t answer, and Logan set a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “We should leave.” He turned to look at them. “You said you live in the walls? How long will you need us out of the room? Ten minutes?”

They stared, and for a second Logan thought they still wouldn’t answer, but then- “Yeah.” Roman said, nodding rapidly. “Ten minutes is- That’s fine.”

“Very well.” Logan walked towards the door, Patton in tow.

“Wait!” Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth as though he hadn’t meant to speak. They waited patiently, still at the door. “You… You’re letting us leave? Just like that? I thought… I thought you wanted to know more about us.”

Roman elbowed him, but Patton stepped forward slightly to answer, and their eyes locked on his movement immediately.

“It would be nice to learn more about you guys, but it should be your choice to talk with us.” He said, earnestly. Logan dipped his head in agreement.

“You’re as sentient as we are, it would be wrong to keep you here against your will. If there’s ever anything we can do to make it up to you… you know where to find us.”

Patton nodded firmly, and they finally walked out of the room unimpeded.

When they returned, the two were gone.

#g/t #giant/tiny #borrowers #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #writing #my writing #hiddendreamer67 prompts #tada!#surprise :P #a place we could escape sometime #apwces

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allthephils · 5 years

Text

Smart Casual

Word count: 2362 Rated E (smut)

This was written for @phandomficfests bingo for my chastity device square. I might have taken some liberties with the prompt. This is very much porn without plot.

Summary: Phil’s zipper is stuck.

Read on AO3

Shopping is best done in one’s pajamas. That’s always been Phil’s way. Lounging on the sofa is fine but he prefers to be tucked into bed with a hot cup of cocoa or maybe a glass of wine, and with Dan sitting next to him. A shirtless Dan, rambling on about whatever Subreddit or wiki page he’s landed on, is motivating. He wants to look good for himself but he also wants to elicit a very specific response from Dan. He’s always got heart eyes, even ten years later, the fans really are spot on about that. But there’s another look, a look that he does occasionally let slip on camera but is usually reserved for just the two of them. It’s a certain glimmer to his eyes, a parting of the lips, a subtle drop in the tone of his voice.

To be honest, he can see it anytime he wants. All he has to do is run his fingers through Dan’s hair, kiss his neck, whisper in his ear, guess what I’m thinking, Danny. Catching Dan off guard though, seeing that look in public or in the middle of the day, knowing Dan has to hold back, that is the ultimate victory. So, along with rainbow hoodies, and Pokémon t-shirts, he’ll shop for jumpers that hug his broad shoulders though he’d usually prefer them oversized. He’ll search specifically for black knit that’s soft but not too chunky so they don’t hide the subtle contours of Phil’s chest. He’ll angle the screen toward Dan for approval and wait for a grunt or a shrug or a hum. The hum comes when Dan’s paying attention, when he sees something he’d like to see on Phil.

This time it’s not a jumper. Phil’s trying to break out of his black jeans rut and Topman has nice skinny grey plaid trousers. It’s like old Phil meets new Phil and he thinks he could maybe pull these off. They are way more fashion forward than he’d usually choose so he runs them by Dan and it happens. The hum.

“Yes. Those are a yes. Those are cool.”

“Really?” Phil says, clicking through the images, trying to ignore the model’s ass in favor of looking at the actual trousers. “You think they’ll suit me?”

“Absolutely.” He raises his chin to emphasize the next phrase he speaks, “Dat ass is going to look so fine in those.”

“I don’t know, they’re kinda smart for everyday.”

“Let that thicc booty shine Phil. It deserves to be showcased.” He’s back to reading about volcanos or nihilism or whatever.

“Okay, I’m gonna get ‘em.” And so he clicks and they’re on their way.

When the package arrives, it could be anything. It’s from Topman but that doesn’t exactly narrow it down. This is a big part of why Phil shops online. He loves getting packages, it’s like having lots of tiny little Christmases. Dan’s gaming but he watches from the corner of his eye as Phil works to free the box from it’s tape. After several minutes, Dan silently pauses his game, stands and heads to the kitchen. He returns with a pair of scissors, takes the box, cuts the tape, hands the box back to Phil, and sits back down to resume his gameplay.

“Ooh, it’s the plaid ones!” Phil laughs a little, “oh my god, what was I thinking?”

The game pauses again. “Let me see.” Dan turns to look at Phil as he stands and holds the trousers up.

“I’m gonna return them, they’re ridiculous.”

“What are you talking about?” Dan reaches over to feel the fabric.

“I’m gonna look like George McFly.”

“George McFly was low key hot. Try them on. Please? For me.”

***

“Hello gorgeous!” Dan sounds awestruck, dramatically stretching every syllable for emphasis. “You styled yourself. Well done, Phil.”

“I do have some sense of style, Dan.”

He wears a black jumper only because it's the one top he has that is solid black. He chose white low top trainers and no show socks channeling Dan’s ankle exhibitionism. He won’t admit that this style is really just him copying what looks good on Dan. This really isn’t him. He’d never wear this out and he still plans on returning the trousers. He did buy them to get a reaction though so he might as well parade around a little, give Dan a little taste of what it might be like to have a boyfriend who stays up to date with fashion.

“Yes Phil, show me those sexy ass ankles!”

Phil laughs, “Ass ankles? Okay Dan.”

“No really, this is the perfect amount of skin for fall, you’re ankles are hot.”

“Your so Victorian Dan, one glimpse of ankle and your all flustered.”

“Oh,” Dan gets up off the sofa and stands, hands on his hips. He looks Phil slowly up and down. “It’s not just the ankles.”

And Phil knows that’s true. He looked in the mirror before he came out to the lounge. The trousers are tighter than any he’d ever wear of his own volition. He feels a little trapped, squeezed into them. In any other setting, he’d be yanking the hem of his jumper down, trying to cover his pornographic bulge. It’s so embarrassing, walking around, looking like you stuffed a sock down your crotch. There’s really no hiding in these, he’s pretty sure you could make out the exact outline of his dick if you looked closely, and Dan is looking. Intently.

“Oi,” Phil says, “my eyes are up here.”

Dan clears his throat, feigning embarrassment, and rattles his head as if to snap out of a trance. Phil giggles. This is fun, totally worth the £65 and the short time spent totally constricted.

“Give us a twirl then.”

Phil does his best fashion model twirl but Dan just swivels his finger in the air as if to say keep spinning. By the third spin, Phil is dizzy and giggling, “Dan! I’m gonna fall over!”

“Aaaaaaaaand stop!” Dan shouts and Phil freezes in place, facing away from Dan. “That’s the pose I was looking for. Yum.”

Leaning forward a bit, Phil wiggles his arse. Just as he’s about to laugh and turn around, putting an end to the joke, he feels Dan’s hands, both of them. They settle on his hips as Dan steps forward, pulling Phil close until there is no space between them.

Warm breath moves over the little hairs on the back of Phil’s neck and they stand on end. Dan’s left hand slides past his hip, finding his tightly wrapped bulge. There’s a long, slow exhale in Phil’s ear. “I really like these trousers, Phil.”

He’s squeezing him through the thin fabric and it feels way better than it should. It’s just those big hands and Dan’s soft, seductive voice. It’s the way he’d looked at him, the way he’d played. Phil knows he’s still playing. In a minute, he’ll step away, laughing and making fun of Phil for going quiet, for getting just the tiniest bit hard. You’re so easy Phil.

“No making me hard in these trousers, little Phil is suffocating.”

Dan doesn’t laugh. “Just returning the favor.” The unmistakable line of Dan’s hardening cock presses against Phil’s ass and he pushes back into that delicious feeling.

“Oh, you do like them.” He’s trying to sound nonchalant but Dan is squeezing and stroking and grinding and Phil is definitely hard now. He’s slipping into caveman mode. Clinging to the last of his resolve, he clears his throat. “Hold that thought. Let me get out of these.”

“No way, that’s my job.” Dan fumbles for the zipper pull and tugs but nothing happens.

“Unzip them, Dan, it actually hurts a little.”

“I’m trying. It’s stuck.”

“What?!”

“The zipper’s stuck. It won’t pull down.”

Phil swats his hand away and tries but it will not budge. He turns to face Dan. “When did you take your shirt off? And your joggers?”

“I was getting sweaty.” Dan says, stepping back to steal another look at Phil.. “And I love being naked with you fully clothed, it’s hot.”

It is hot. All sorts of filthy things run through Phil’s mind, right alongside the thought that he’s about to lose a vital organ to asphyxiation.

“Dan, you look fucking edible but if I don’t get these off soon, I’m gonna cry.”

“Okay, okay. I got it.” Dan drops to his knees. This does not help the situation. He tugs and tugs to no avail, then leans forward and grabs the pull with his teeth.

“Are you kidding me, Dan?”

“It’s worth a try!” Dan’s voice is pitched up but then his cheek brushes the straining zipper and they both let out a groan. He does it again, properly nuzzling Phil’s poor captive cock and letting his hand resume it’s exploration.

Phil’s looking down at Dan’s brown eyes through those stupid sexy lashes when he starts kissing down the length of him.

“Dan, stop.” Phil says, deep and breathy.

He slides his mouth back up and the fabric is wet with spit. He pauses. “You want me to stop?”

There’s barely a beat before Phil says, “No. No don’t stop.”

Phil is gripping Dan’s hair and Dan is gripping Phil’s ass, pulling him impossibly close so he can wrap his lips around the head as much as he’s able. He sucks, determined to feel the shape of Phil despite two layers of fabric.

There’s a gasp and Phil’s northern growl comes on strong, “Fuck. Get up here, Dan.”

No sooner are they face to face then their lips crash into one other. It’s wet and eager, all tongue and teeth and frantic breaths. Phil’s fingers dig into the flesh of Dan’s ass, holding him against Phil’s grinding pelvis. His cock pushes at the zipper like a caged animal, like it could actually break free of its cloth prison, hulk style.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Phil says, moving his mouth over Dan neck. It hurts and not in a good way but the need for release is intense and that somehow translates as pleasure. Plus, he’s got Dan, naked and writhing like it’s all brand new, and that is unspeakably hot. He can feel that pretty cock of his trapped between them, working against his own and the thought of Dan’s nipples rubbing the soft, nubby knit of his jumper, it’s too much. He bites down on Dan’s neck, hard.

“Ah. Ahah. Fuck.” Dan sounds wrecked. He turns to face away from Phil and pushes his ass into him, moving against his cock with quick little bounces. Phil is dizzy from the visual and he scratches down Dan’s back in a show of appreciation. Dan hisses just before he practically cries out, “pull my hair!”

Phil can’t help but grin at the request made in Dan’s high pitched, totally gone sex voice. He pushes both hands into Dan’s hair and grabs handfuls. He gasps, his head pulled sharply back. Over his shoulder, Phil can see Dan’s flushed cock bouncing. It’s the cutest fucking cock and it looks so good waving around like that. He needs to touch it, he needs just a little more.

Phil walks them both forward and pushes Dan till he’s bent over, hands on the back of the sofa, knees pushing into the edge of the cushions. He lifts his hand to Dan’s mouth and he licks without hesitation. Phil can reach around now and take Dan in hand, stroking loosely once or twice before setting in to jack him off properly. He’s humping frantically, sliding the hard ridge of his dick between Dan’s ass cheeks, moving like some dog in heat. The thick sound of heavy breathing and wet jacking is soon interrupted by Phil’s uncharacteristic string of expletives.

“Fuck, ow, ow, fuck, fuck, ow, ah, aaaah, fuck.” With one last high pitched moan, he cums, hot and wet, right into his brand new plaid trousers. Dan’s still fucking into Phil’s hand so he reaches his free hand up to yank on his curls and that’s all it takes. He goes still and quiet as he spills over Phil’s fingers.

Slowly, Phil stands, holding his hand carefully so as not to make a mess of the furniture. He reaches down and wipes his hand on Dan’s discarded joggers and then flops down onto the sofa next to him.

“Aw man,” Phil says, looking down, “now I can’t return these.”

“You cheap bastard.” Dan’s eyes are closed, his head resting back, legs spread wide, enjoying the afterglow. “I haven’t even caught my breath.”

“Sorry, they just don’t suit me and they’re faulty.”

“Oh my god, fuck off, I will give you the 50 quid Jesus.” Dan sounds way too blissed out to actually be annoyed.

“50 quid?” Phil says, shocked, “Daniel, what do you take me for?”

They are quiet for a moment.

“They were 65.”

Blindly Dan reaches over, groping for Phil’s zipper. “Ew,” He says, feeling the sog of cooling cum that has soaked through.

Phil hisses, so sensitive after all that torture. Dan futzes with zipper a bit and with more room and less pressure, it opens. Phil sighs a deep, genuine sigh of relief. “Babe. Thank you.”

“Ow,” Dan says, sitting up, “I think you chafed my cheeks.”

“You brought that on yourself. Anyway, no way it compares.” Phil stands up, trousers open. He’s still in shoes so he toes them off and pulls off his jumper. “I’m so gross, come shower with me.”

The hot water is divine. Dan’s ass is a little red and raw so Phil gently washes it with his favorite vanilla body wash.

“I may be stuck with those trousers but I am never wearing them again.”

Dan leans forward onto the shower wall and arches his back, ass on display. He gazes over one shoulder seductively, batting his lashes. “You sure about that, Lester?”

Phil plants a playful smack on Dan’s cute booty, prompting him to turn around. They hold each other, feeling the warm water stream over and between their bodies.

“Okay, I’ll wear them for you but I’m not zipping them up.”

Dan’s voice is sleepy and relaxed as he murmurs in Phil’s ear, “Sounds good to me.”

#phanfic #myfic #pff bingo 2019 #smart casual

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withthewerewolves · 5 years

Text

So I’m writing this fic, currently titled The Stupidest Mpreg Ever Written, and it will never see the light of day. Wymack’s background from it, though, I like. Here it is.

Also I don’t know anything about Pacific Islander culture. I did some googling and I hope there’s nothing offensive in here, but if I’ve messed up please feel free to let me know.

Wymack meets Kevin Day only twice before that fateful banquet.

Kayleigh Day’s exy program is the best in the world. When David gets his acceptance letter, he throws out all the applications his guidance counselor had given him to colleges he would never be able to attend, packs his duffle bag and his exy stick, and leaves his father’s house for Ireland. His father, still drunk from the night before, tells him that if he leaves he can never come back. David doesn’t say that there was never any chance of him returning. From his father, he had gotten only his name and a fear of loud noises.

The program is intense. Exy is new enough that there are no high school or college teams, and David has never played with anyone who knew what they were doing before. He thrives on the competition, on being surrounded by people who love this violent bastard game as much as he does. Every night he falls into bed exhausted and every morning he wakes up grinning.

The program is only supposed to last two years. When David is twenty, the other young adults leave to start little league or pick up teams, bring exy back to their home countries. Kayleigh asks David to stay. She says that he has something special, and she’d like him to continue training with her until the pro teams are ready. No one has ever said David was special before.

She opens up to him more, now that their teacher/student relationship has shifted. They become friends. David thinks Kayleigh is the most incredible person he’s ever known.

With the success of the program, Kayleigh sends invitations to younger students, making arrangements with a local high school. It’s David’s third year in Ireland that he meets Keon Savia.

David got his coloring and a few memories from his mother, but Keon had actually grown up in Samoa. From him David learns a few clumsy phrases in Samoan, a few recipes, and a sense of belonging to a community beyond his father. When he decides to get his arm tattoos, Keon goes with him.

From David, Keon learns how to hold his alcohol, the block that later becomes his signature move, and how to talk to boys. The jury is still out on how useful David’s tutoring was on that last one.

It’s this friendship that brings Keon to Kayleigh’s attention as more than just a student. He’s young, but he joins their evening practices and sits with them at meals. Keon thinks Kayleigh hung the sun. David agrees, but his feelings are starting to get a little...muddled.

When David is twenty one he and Kayleigh start sleeping together. He knows he loves her, but is he in love with her? Could he possibly ask her to love him back? He suspects she has other lovers and this doesn’t bother him. It’s her heart that he covets.

When David is twenty two she starts talking about the pro teams in America. Exy is taking hold there. There’s still more progress to be made, but if he went pro, there would be enough talent to challenge him. She wants that for him. He’s starting to want only her, only Ireland’s green fields and the small court she uses to run her training program.

She breaks it off with him. She isn’t hurtful about it, but she tells him that his future lies in the professional leagues and hers did not lie with him. He joins the New York Flames.

It’s Keon who tells him she’s pregnant, slipped into a casual phone call about their training. David doesn’t know what to do. He’s signed a contract and he makes good money now, but he would give it all up for her, for their child, to be a family.

He gets on a plane. He shows up at the training center. She tells him that she knows who the father is and it isn’t him. He clumsily offers to stay anyway. She gives him one last kiss and breaks his heart. He gets back on a plane.

Kayleigh brings the baby to watch his first championship game with the Flames. It’s so small, that indeterminate age between birth and speech, tucked into a fluffy hand knit hat and one of those carriers that straps to a chest.

“His name is Kevin,” she tells him, and she smiles down at the baby more tenderly than he’s seen her look at anything but an exy ball.

The baby is beautiful, all big eyes and tiny nose, taking in the action with his mouth open in wonder. He also has dark eyes, hair, and skin that he didn’t get from Kayleigh.

There aren’t a lot of Pacific Islanders in exy, though the number grows in the following years. There are only so many people who could give the boy that coloring.

David is happy for Keon. He’s only eighteen, which is awfully young to be a father, but he knows how much Keon misses his family. He’ll be a good dad. He’ll look after them both, to the extent that Kayleigh will let herself be looked after.

David plays and he plays and he plays, and exy starts to feel less like a game and more like a job. He donates most of his salary, only keeping enough to pay for the big apartment close to the court. It’s the first time in his life he’s lived alone, and he finds he doesn’t care for it. He starts jumping at sudden noises again.

Kayleigh comes back when Kevin is two. Tetsuji Moriyama is opening the exy program at Edgar Allen University, the first college exy program. Keon, despite being a little older than the traditional college student, is on the first line up. David wonders if Kayleigh will move to the States, if he can rebuild their friendship.

She brings Kevin to visit him in New York the next year. The tiny wide eyed infant has become a bundle of energy and glee, fascinated with everything around him and full of questions about all of it. Kayleigh’s eyes are indulgent as she answers them.

They play a mock exy game on the empty court after the rest of David’s team goes home for the night. He’s terrified of swinging too hard and hurting Kevin, but Kayleigh isn’t. Kevin runs up and down the court after their balls, shrieking with joy and carrying the smallest exy racquet David has ever seen.

It’s the best day David has had in a long time.

He still donates most of his salary, but he starts saving some of it. He isn’t sure what it’s for, exactly, but an idea is percolating in the back of his head.

He runs a few workshops for the local little league team. They take him on as an assistant coach, which is all the commitment he can make considering how much he travels for games. A little of that old spark of love for the game wakes up in him.

Kayleigh dies. David finds out from ESPN. A car accident, they say. Thank goodness her son wasn’t with her. Such a mystery, no one knows who his father is. Who will care for him now? Will the absent father finally reveal himself?

David waits, and waits, and waits for Keon to claim Kevin. He’s graduated, joined the Arizona pro team, but surely he’ll take Kevin. He won’t leave the boy to be an orphan. Will he?

Kevin goes to live with Tetsuji, who has been named his godfather. David supposes Kayliegh must have trusted him, to leave him with her child, but David has never liked the man. Maybe it’s just jealousy.

He skips practice and makes a weekend trip to Edgar Allen. Tetsuji meets him at the gates and doesn’t allow him any farther. Kevin is at lessons, he says. He’s bonded with Tetsuji’s own nephew, he says. Who are you to demand to see him? he says. David goes back to New York.

David plays professionally for nine more years, in New York and Illinois and finally South Carolina. This is where he meets Charles Whittier, the Dean of the nearby college, Palmetto State. They’re thinking of starting an exy program, he says. Would David like to run it?

David thinks of that day on the court with Kavin and Kayleigh, and all the years as assistant coach to various little league teams. He accepts.

Over the years he’s met a lot of exy players. He knows the sport has a tendency to draw people who need an outlet, people for whom life has not been easy. People like him, for whom a college degree was never an option. These are the people he decides to recruit for his new team. He puts everything that he has into it, long nights pouring over the blueprints for the court, longer days flying all over the country to make offers to the people he’s chosen. Most of them need at least a little convincing. When the school funding runs out, he uses his savings to make the court exactly the way he wants it. None of his kids will struggle to hide scars in the locker room like he did, that first year in Ireland.

His first line up is a disaster. They fight and they do drugs and miss practice and skip classes and they finish at the very bottom of the rankings.

His second line up is better. The captain has washed out so he replaces him with Dan Wilds, who he thinks Kayleigh would have liked. She’s brilliant, but he isn’t sure it’s enough.

He recruits the Minyards and their cousin. All three are good, all three would meet his specifications on their own, but the one he really wants is Andrew, the foster kid with a record, court mandated medication, and the best shots saved record of any goalie in collegiate exy.

He begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake.

Then Kevin comes to his hotel room after the winter banquet, sporting a broken hand and an ever more broken expression.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he rasps.

“Come in,” David tells him.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #david wymack #kevin day #kayleigh day

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ddaenghoney · 6 years

Text

SERIES: HALLOWEEN BETWEEN MIDNIGHTS

Chapter 12.2

On October 1st, you attend a Halloween party in an abandoned house rented by some friends. As scary as the idea of cult owners is, nothing could have prepared you and BTS(regular people) for the mayhem and terror that follows until October 31st.

This is an INTERACTIVE fic. At the end of each part, readers will be able to vote to decide what happens next. Analyze everything(except the time) carefully. Choices decide romance, friendship, and deaths; and yes, ANYONE can die.

In other words, please read at your own risk; anything goes in this story.

Start here | Previous part | Next part

Following a long sleep in two clumps squished into your small bed, you eventually got back into the groove. Scribbling some notes on the margin of a scholarly article you needed to read for the next day, you largely ignored Yoongi who stayed curled on the corner of your bed. His hands scrolled through whatever he found on his phone to entertain him, yawning a couple of times due mostly to the many tiny waffles you both consumed when you woke up around noon.

“Are you going to do anything productive?” You teased, rolling back on your chair to watch as Yoongi only pouted his lips.

“If I’m alive then my body is being productive on its own.” You ignored the growing smirk on his face due to you rolling your eyes. Tossing your pen to the tiny shelf of the desk, you went to hop your knees into the plush beside him,

“What are you looking at? Cures for being the worst-”

“Nothing, loser,” He held his phone away from your playfully grabbing hands, using one of his own to grab your wrist, “It’s a secret.” You ceased, an eyebrow rising to acknowledge the words with skepticism, “You look intimidating,” He smiled, holding your hand against his chest when you lightly pat against him, “It’s nothing illegal.”

“Next thing I know you’re involved in a bank heist.” You giggled, trying barely to tug your hand away, but he held it in place. Eyes moved contemplatively around the room, a smile growing,

“How’d you find out?” You shook your head at his dry done, and contrastingly warm smile,

“Give me my hand back, nerd.”

“If we do something, I’m getting bored.” He began, whining towards the last phrase as his head fell back against your pillow. His hand contained yours against his chest.

“I wanted to go check up on Jimin, actually.” You admitted, beginning to prod against his chest by use of your trapped fingers. A smile blossomed as he released your smaller appendage with a quick jerk from the tickling sensation. “Want to tag along?”

“I was going to go see him later actually,” Yoongi say upright, eyebrows knitting in consideration. “I was gonna go on my own though.”

“Oh, because you hate me; I get it.” You sighed dramatically, jerking when he poked his finger into a ticklish spot on your side.

“No, angel.” He chuckled, as your hands defensively moved as little shields in case of more prodding. “No, we can go together.”

Jeongguk’s arm slumped onto the wooden desk, sneakers tapping at a slow pace just as a means to stay awake. Taehyung in the chair beside him, scribbled nothing in particular against a blank leaf of his notebook. Jeongguk yawned, trying to make out what it was the image intended to be,

“Did you even sleep at all when we got back?”

“Not really,” He murmured, fixated on what seemed to be a flower maybe, “You?”

“In and out, but not longer for an hour probably.” Jeongguk watched Hoseok walk in from the far door, his hoodie slung up over his head and no doubt wishing he too was asleep at his dorm. “You need to figure out a way to sleep though, dude. You haven’t really in the past two days now.”

“Yeah, well,” His voice trailed off, avoiding the conversation, though he wished it hadn’t been Hoseok who came over to properly change the topic.

“You guys holding up okay? This is both of your last class too, right?”

“Yeah, luckily enough.” Jeongguk rolled the joint of his neck around, trying anything for blood to stimulate better and keep himself awake. Taehyung continued drawing, then turned the page to scribble down the date and the class name.

“You know,” Hoseok sighed, hands tucked deep into the pouch of his hoodie, “I didn’t cheat on her, and we really didn’t have a huge fallout. I don’t know why you’re so mad at me still.”

“You still made her really sad.” Taehyung didn’t even glance up, “And besides now that you’re done with your rebound you just want to go back to her.”

“There wasn’t a rebound, Taehyung. Did Y/N even tell you why we broke up?” Taehyung looked up at him, eyes narrowing.

“We’re all sleep-deprived,” Jeongguk intervened, a hand ghosting atop of Taehyung’s tensed shoulder. “Let’s not talk to each other when we’re so annoyed about the sleep thing, okay?”

“Is she feeling okay though?” The question went towards Jeongguk, as Hoseok disregarded the sigh Taehyung exhaled before going back to his notebook. “Jimin’s doing alright, I went by to see him earlier.”

“Yeah, she’s ditching classes today with Yoongi.” He nodded, gesturing his neck to the free space beside him, “So just taking it easy.”

“I haven’t seen Yoongi in our Music Theory lecture in over a week now.” Hoseok laid his backpack on the desk, moving around to take a seat.

“He’s thinking about dropping out.” Taehyung spoke up, relaxing back against his seat, “Not sure why though.”

“Hopefully it’s just for a semester or something. He’s really close to getting a master’s.”

Jimin grinned pulling the door to his room wider as you ushered yourself in, a bag of food in hand. Hugging onto you, Jimin spoke up excitedly,

“First Hobi and now you. IT’s great my friends love me so much.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself as he shut the door on the way in.

“Wait, if he got you food then I’m going to eat this-” You grinned as he snatched away the bag, sitting down on his bed criss-cross.

“I’ll share the fries with you?” He offered, looking up with eyes pleading to keep most of it. Shrugging, you just took the space beside him,

“No, you can eat all of it. I’m stuffed on waffles.” You repressed a chuckle as Yoongi heaved himself into the desk chair, rubbing his still full stomach with an unnecessary sigh. “You’re doing alright though?”

“Yeah, since Yoongi went to go and get you all to come rescue me.” He ate two fries at a time, not noticing the immediate frown overtaking Yoongi’s expression. You looked over at him, also confused by the words. Jimin caught onto the lack of replies, and glanced between the two of you, “Is that not what happened after you left the house?” “I thought you said you didn’t go to the party.” You frowned. Yoongi’s head shook,

“I didn’t, I mean.” He paused scanning through the dents in his memory, “I don’t think I did.”

“You texted me though.” Jimin disregarded the bag of food to the side, watching Yoongi reach into his pocket for his phone. “Up until that guy found me hiding. We were texting each other.” Yoongi further frowned, frustrated that there were a string of texts in his phone he didn’t remember typing in, but now that he stared at them he somehow felt similar emotions that would be attached to the memory. He held the phone to Jimin, not minding that you peeked over his shoulder to also take a look.

“Those ones at the bottom,” Jimin swallowed, biting his lip at the texts sent from his phone, “I didn’t type those about meeting up with you to escape… That guy must have.” He rolled up further, nodding as he found familiarity in earlier texts, “But yeah. We were talking about you coming to the party. I’m glad you took whatever way you did to escape, otherwise you could’ve ended up in the same state as me down there.”

You gripped tighter onto your leggings with the discussion. Wishing this could’ve ended last night, you sighed and looked towards Yoongi who was staring towards his shoes. Focused. “You can’t remember,” You paused at the idea. “Any of it?”

“It was traumatic-- maybe you suppressed it-”

“No,” Yoongi reached up to rub his head, lips tightening into a line as he thought longer. “I remember. Now that I’m thinking about it more. I remember running out through the front, and I saw an owl-” He glanced towards you wondering if it was the same one you kept mentioning. “But after that-- after I kept running, I don’t know what happened. I just went home, but I don’t know why.”

Stepping away from the disperse of students leaving the building, Jeongguk mumbled something about hating the homework assignment, then stretched out his arms, “Should we go get lunch or something?”

“Nah,” Taehyung shook his head gently, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “I have some stuff to go do. I’ll try and meet with you later to study, or something.” Jeongguk raised an eyebrow at the evasion, but nonetheless gave a small wave before Taehyung began walking away. Eventually exhaling from the amount of weirdness that has gone on, he decided it was probably just everyone trying to get back to normal.

“I’m kind of worried about him.” Hoseok walked from the base of the stairs, glancing to Taehyung’s back as he dipped around a building out of sight. “He was really weird yesterday.”

“How so?” Jeongguk’s neck turned towards him quickly, “I mean we all were.” He added after a second thought. Hoseok only shrugged,

“I don’t know he just seemed different after the party. Maybe I’m reading into it too much though.” He reached for his water bottle, seemingly casual about the discussion, “Well anyways, I was gonna meet up with Namjoon and Seokjin. They’re gonna look at a video of the first seance. Did you want to tag along?”

feel free to send me comments, predictions, thoughts, etc. uwu

#bts #bts imagines #bts fake texts #bts supernatural #bts suspense #bts thriller #bts horror #bts x reader #all #series halloween between midnights

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tigerlilynoh · 6 years

Note

If you’re taking prompts I’d love some sam and ruby (job and family verse) in any way shape or form

Sorry that this was a little delayed. I got this prompt while I was still waiting to get my bar exam results and dealing with commencement (and the ensuing intoxication). Here’s a little Sam & Ruby (J&F!verse) for you. Hope you like it :)

Sam came home from helping a few coven members construct a greenhouse on the far end of camp. It’d been a long day of moderate physical effort and more than a little telekinesis. He wasn’t entirely convinced that the weight of the objects being moved with his powers directly corresponded to strain, but the heavy loads of wood and glass had taken a bit of a toll on him. So when he walked in to see Ruby quickly shift positions, to stand with an awkward false-casualness, he was immediate on his guard.

“Okay, so don’t freak out,” Ruby told him, evidently seeing the concern on his face.

“Oh no, who broke what?”

“Nothing’s broken,” she ominously replied rather than assuring him that everything was fine. “You know how you like dogs?”

“What does—“

A raspy-squeak of a bark came from Kaylee’s bedroom. There was the scratching sound of tiny claws scrambling across hardwood floors, followed by two young children running. Before he could react, the most unusual dog he’d ever seen was charging through the doorway into the living room.

The puppy was just over a foot tall, had comically-large goblinoid ears, big eyes that dimly glowed red, and massive paws that gave it a clumsy gait. Its joints had blunt, black spikes sticking out of the skin, causing Sam to involuntary compare them to Malek’s spikes. Black fuzzy fur coated its grey leathery hide.

Kaylee and Anansi giggled as they chased the dog, meanwhile Tom strolled after them, more cautious of the new spectacle. Anansi attempted to hug the puppy, but lost his balance and tripped. The boy saved himself from a hard impact on the hardwood floor with a tiny burst of his juvenile telekinesis, then was promptly tackled by the puppy, who seemed to be unrelenting when it came to licks.

“Is that—is that a hellhound?” Sam asked, barely able to process the possibility.

“Her name is Nibbles!” Kaylee excitedly informed her dad as she hopped up and down.

“I wanted to talk to you before this got out of hand,” Ruby said apologetically to Sam. “Crowley and Kay gave her to them when we were down there earlier. Apparently, this puppy was too docile for the breeders to keep. So Kay suggested we take her.”

“Nibbles?” Sam repeated the ominous name, while watching the itty-bitty hellhound playing with his three-year old son. It took a significant amount of willpower to not pick up his two youngest children and hold them out of the puppy’s reach.

“Because she doesn’t break the skin when she bites. She nibbles.” Ruby explained the name. “Part of why the breeders didn’t want her.”

“Right.” Sam nodded to himself. “Not mauling people is a character flaw.”

“Supposedly they’re really easy to train.” Ruby continued her implicit pitch.

Sam hated to imagine the methods normally used to train hellhounds. If that sort of discipline was necessary to keep a hellhound in line, then he wasn’t prepared to do what was necessary to make it work— oddly adorableness and puppy-appeal be damned. He leaned in close to Ruby and whispered, “I don’t care how easy it is when their trainers hit them. We aren’t in Hell. This is different.”

“I’m not saying that we—“ She lowered her voice while in front of the kids. “—put her on the puppy-rack. I’m just saying they’re really smart. It might not be as bad as you think.”

He watched his kids playing with Nibbles for a few minutes. Even Tom was warming up to her, going so far as trying to teach her how to fetch a ball rolled across the floor. The puppy bounced around, too excited by all the things to play with and too many directions to run in. In her eagerness to do everything all at once, Nibbles tripped over her own feet and tumbled into a fuzzy heap.

Sam’s stomach knotted at the thought of where she must’ve come from compared to a house full of toys and kids who wanted to play. He eventually told Ruby, “first sign of aggression, she goes back.”

“I completely agree.”

The pair of them sat on their too-small couch and watched their kids play with the puppy for a half hour before she began running out of adrenaline—or whatever equivalent hellhounds had. Nibbles came over and lay down on Sam’s feet. The puppy’s fur had the texture of felt. She rolled around on her back, causing her floppy ears to smack his ankles. Sam reached down and picked her up. Despite her fatigue, she wagged her long skinny tail back and forth, then squeaked a bark at him.

“I used to be scared of you,” he quietly informed the hound.

It was hard to reconcile this almost-cute creature with the haunting beasts that had killed his brother years earlier. He supposed that everything started somewhere, often enough with a fresh start. Hopefully, nurture would be found to win out over nature.

“To be fair, she isn’t nearly as intimidating as her sisters.” Ruby pointed out.

“Aren’t they invisible?” He decided not to mention that it was a characteristic of hellhounds’ status as an apex predator.

“Just on Earth.” She corrected. “The charm on her collar makes her visible.”

Sam examined the charm for a moment, then reconsidered the fact that her paws were almost as big as his palms. “How big do they get?”

“Kay once told me that her brother rode one when he was younger.” Ruby smiled innocently before guessing, “Maybe about four feet tall?”

He put the puppy down on his lap. She walked in a circle before plopping unceremoniously on his thighs. The ridge of spikes along her spine made him hesitant to pet her, despite the fact that they weren’t sharp. Instead he scratched her chin, earning a few licks of appreciation.

“I think she likes you.”

After dinner, Sam went to go take his customary walk around the camp to clear his head. He was strolling along a secluded stretch of the lake when he heard the brush rustling nearby. Without looking he knew it was the hellhound. It startled him a bit to realize that he could sense her presence. Though she was an Abyssal and his affinity for all things Hell surely extended to its other creatures.

She scampered out of the grass, then ran around in front of him for a bit. He wasn’t sure whether to try taking her back to their cabin since she was so young and had no idea how most things worked. Though in the camp he didn’t have to worry about her running into the street. Some small part of him worried that she might run off into the wilderness and then he’d have accidentally unleashed a feral hellhound onto Earth— God knew another Abyssal species appearing on Earth would go over great with the humans and Heaven. He tried patting his leg to get her to come to him, but she didn’t seem to know that gesture. Though he really panicked when she noticed a skunk about thirty feet away and started trotting towards it.

“Nibbles, stop!” he told the puppy in Abyssal. To his surprise the dog held still and looked back at him. She patiently waited for him to do something. He glanced around to make sure that no one else was in earshot, then continued in Abyssal. “Come here.”

Nibbles hurried back to him, then circled his feet. She got up on her back feet and started pawing his legs enthusiastically.

“Do you speak Abyssal?” he said, unsure if he was asking her or musing aloud. He’d never heard of hellhounds as being described as exhibiting humanoid levels of intelligence, so they probably were the rough equivalent of a dog. But that didn’t mean that she could’ve distinguish between languages, of which Abyssal was undoubtedly the most familiar. He scratched her chin as he thought for a few seconds to try to figure out how to translate a phrase into Abyssal, then told her, “You’re going to be a good girl.”

That night, after the kids had gone to bed, Sam and Ruby snuck off to their bedroom while Nibbles was dozing on an armchair. They both changed into minimal pajamas, then climbed into bed. Sam had hardly gotten the blanket the way he liked it when the sound of scratching and whining started coming from the other side of their bedroom door.

“If we let her in, she’s gonna want to come in every night,” Ruby noted. “Full grown, she’ll be bigger than me.”

After a few more whimpers, Sam got out of bed and opened the door. Nibbles ran into the bedroom, hopped onto the bench at the foot of their bed, then onto the bed itself. While she was busy licking Ruby’s face and excitedly wagging her tail, Sam made a little dog bed out of spare pillows on the floor.

“Down,” Sam told the puppy in Abyssal. Nibbles gave Ruby one last lick then leapt off the bed with an ungraceful fwomp. He patted the dog bed, calling her over. When she settled in it he gave her a little scratch behind her floppy ear as a reward. Once the hound was sufficiently subdued, he crawled back in bed and spooned Ruby.

“She’s gonna need a bigger bed.” Ruby pointed out.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

The next morning, Sam woke up to find Nibbles stretched out, sleeping between him and Ruby. The puppy’s big, goofy paws moved around in the air, hinting at some kind of dream involving running.

“This isn’t what I meant when I agreed she should get a bigger bed,” he halfheartedly complained.

Ruby scooched her way up and around Nibbles in order to kiss Sam, then said, “Mr. Rogers-meets-Master-of-the-Abyss, have fun training your first minion.”

#fic request #job & family #sam x ruby #Sam Winchester #spn ruby #deleted scene: Aftermath #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam and hellhounds

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thecousinsdangereux · 7 years

Text

give it time (trini/kim, pre-relationship)

So! Tomorrow is @plastic-pipes’ birthday and since I was never given a prompt, I figured I’d just base this birthday ficlet off of some awesome art that pipes drew instead. (And how could I resist adding a trope to it?) Hope you have a great b-day, pal! :D

“So, this isn't exactly how I saw our night off going.”

Kim's face is only illuminated by the light of their two phones, but it's easy to see the frustration in the tiny pinch of her forehead and slight dip of the corners of her lips, despite the lightness of her tone.

“You’re kidding,” Trini drawls (though she watches Kim with a contrary sort of focus). “I totally thought you’d planned on coming out here and getting buried alive.”

“Not so much.” She blinks, tilting her head a bit as she takes in Trini’s expression and adjusts her own to something more neutral — a small smile meant to reassure. “But… the boys will find us. Eventually. They had to have felt us morph.”

Right. Because that had been one of their brilliant plans at the start (following (1) attempting to use their phones despite the lack of a signal and (2) screaming for help): morphing and pretty much punching at the fallen rock around them. Maybe not their most intellectual moment as Rangers (but definitely not their least, either). But it had cleared away a small hole in the ceiling — just enough to see a couple stars in the night sky — right before the walls around them had started to tremble, which, despite their desperation at that point, had seemed like a pretty solid sign that should really stop punching things.

“Sure.”

“They’ll be here.”

“Yeah.” She pauses, considering her next words for a short moment, wondering if she should voice them at all. Kim isn’t pacing (in fact, she’s leaning casually up against one of the stone walls of their makeshift prison, as though she isn’t concerned the rock will give way much in the same way it had done earlier, placing them in their current predicament), but she still looks as though she might like to be. There’s a sort of restlessness in her eyes that Trini recognizes, but doesn’t often associate with Kim.

“You alright?” she finally asks, eyes dropping down to her sneakers as she kicks away a loose chunk of rock. “I mean, aside from the whole getting caught in a landslide and being trapped underground thing.”

Kim makes a sound that’s halfway in between a scoff and a laugh and Trini chances a glance upward to catch the end of an eye roll that was apparently more for Kim’s benefit than hers.

“Aside from that I’m great.” She pauses too though, and this time, it’s her turn to look away. “Just not so crazy about tight spaces. Now.”

(It’s not hard to remember the way Kim’s breathing had picked up as the fire had spread across the wings of her Zord. Or the way those breaths had turned into sharp little gasps as the wings smashed together and the metal contracted around her. Trini figures this all applies doubly so to the girl who’d experienced it firsthand.)

“That… makes sense.”

That doesn’t mean that Trini knows how to talk about it. Instead, she kicks another rock, this time towards Kim’s side of the cave; it skids to a stop just in front of Kim’s left boot, and the girl turns to look at Trini with a smile that’s small, but present, and that feels like a victory, especially when Kim kicks it back (albeit with a bit less accuracy).

“It’s fine. I mean, normally I don’t even think about it. But this…” She gestures to the piles of rock around them. “This doesn’t really offer anything in the way of a distraction.”

Trini kicks the rock back once more, and Kim steps on it to stop its motion before returning it with another pass that misses the mark, forcing Trini jerk her foot to the right to keep it in play. “No kidding. Billy could probably talk about the different layers of rock, but… you’re shit out of luck with me.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Kim says far too casually. “We could talk about why you’ve been avoiding me. I think that’d work just as well.”

The words come right before Trini’s foot connects with their impromptu soccer ball, and that’s probably why the rock completely misses Trini’s target, instead skittering off into a far corner. Kim doesn’t chase after it, and Trini’s left wishing for a similar distraction of her own. (How Alanis Morissette ironic.)

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she mumbles.

Of course, Trini has absolutely been avoiding Kim.

Not so much avoiding in the typical way, mainly because that wasn’t really possible, what with training and school and them being friends (or whatever). But ‘avoiding’ still applies: avoiding one-on-one talks and avoiding Kim’s glances and avoiding being partnered up at practice and avoiding looking too closely or for too long and, most of all, avoiding wondering why, lately, maybe Kim had been looking too closely and for too long at Trini and exactly what that might mean.

And wasn’t it just like Kim, to turn a cave-in into an opportunity.

“You haven’t?” Kim repeats back, looking approximately 0% convinced. “That’s weird, then, because I’m pretty sure you nearly pulled Billy’s arm out of its socket today at practice when you were avoiding being paired up with me.”

“I came out here with you tonight, didn’t I?”

“Only because your mom answered when I knocked on your front door. And it was either dealing with your mom asking why you didn’t want to hang out or leaving with me. Not much of a choice.” Kim looks smug for a moment, and Trini’s earlier suspicions about Kim orchestrating the whole thing are confirmed. It makes her grumble and kick another rock across the small cavern, this time with enough force for it to hit the opposite wall.

“Congratulations on tricking me into hanging out with you.”

When she looks up though, she immediately regrets the words, because Kim looks hurt and it makes Trini’s chest ache and her next words spill out of her mouth in a rush.

“That’s not what I meant!” She digs the toe of her shoe into the dirt and avoids (yes, avoids) looking at Kim directly. ��I’m just… still getting used to this,” she ends lamely.

What ‘this’ is, however, is vague, even to Trini. Having friends (or whatever) is definitely something she’s getting used to, so that’s the easiest meaning to draw from the phrase, if not the one that’s giving her the most difficulty lately (probably).

The hurt look on Kim’s face has abated (or at least been carefully hidden) and Trini breathes a little sigh of relief (and hopes for the former). It’s replaced, however, by something just as unfamiliar to Kim’s features: an anxious hesitance that shows in the slight slouch of her shoulders and the uneven tilt of her lips.

“Did I… do something wrong? I know we don’t have a lot in common outside of being Rangers, but I thought we…”

Kim’s mouth thins as she presses her lips together, almost audibly cutting off the rest of her words. That look is back though — the one Trini had been trying to avoid thinking about — the one that’s too long and too soft and too much, but this time, Trini doesn’t look away. And she gives herself a second (or maybe three) to stare right back and imagine that it means everything Trini sort of hopes (and fears) it might.

And then she looks away (tears her gaze away, more like), and busies herself with finding a comfortable spot on the ground to sit, patting at potential (rock) backrests and trying to ignore the gaze she can somehow still feel, heating the back of her neck.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just new,” she reiterates.

“Yeah.” Kim lets out a soft laugh that isn’t really based in humor at all. “I know the feeling.”

Trini scoffs as she sits, flopping onto the ground and leaning back against a stable section of the wall, but Kim apparently hadn’t been utilizing sarcasm, because her brow is raised and her look is curious and Trini finds that she has to explain herself. Again.

“It’s just… come on, you were like head cheerleader, right? Didn’t you have a bunch of…” Friends? Admirers? Significant others? There’s that murky area again — the one that Trini would much rather skirt around until she figures out where she lands on this whole thing (and, obviously, where Kim does as well). Thankfully, Kim picks up where she trailed off, though this turns out to be less helpful in clarifying things than Trini would have hoped.

“People? Sure. It’s still new.” Kim takes a several steps closer before dropping onto the ground in front of Trini. “This — this matters. A lot more than… people usually do.”

So, not clarification, no. But something. Something honest. Earnest.

It’s kind of a lot to take in.

“That’s… good, though. Right?”

And that’s new as well, isn’t it? The idea that caring about people (in whatever way this sort of caring might be) is good — that feels just as strange as the caring itself.

“You think so?”

Kim's voice is soft and a little uncertain and out of all of them — Jason, Billy, and even Zack — Trini thinks she’s the last person who should be in charge of answering this question. But… they're trapped underground and the boys aren't there and Kim is still looking at her like that and she's leaning forward, just a little, and suddenly (just for that moment), the answer feels easy.

“Yeah.” Trini nods, though her eyes don't leave Kim's. “Yeah, I think so.”

Kim nods too and smiles, genuine and fond, then reaches out to squeeze Trini's knee; Trini's subsequent little squirm makes the smile shift into something far more playful, and it’s a little bit of a relief to switch back to lighter terrain. “So that means no more avoiding, right? No more needing cave-ins to talk to you? Because after the boys finally get off their asses and find us down here, I really don't want to come back.”

“Fine, fine,” Trini grumbles, rolling her eyes. “If they ever do make it here. Are they just sleeping or what?”

“Well, given our 6:00 a.m. training tomorrow…”

Trini groans and closes her eyes tightly, letting her head thump against the rock behind her. “Shit. I forgot about that.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make do.”

That’s Trini’s only warning before something lands in her lap, and when her eyes spring open, that something turns out to be Kim’s head.

“You’ll work as a pillow,” Kim adds, grinning up at Trini in a way that (annoyingly) has her nodding in automatic agreement and (worse) brings a heat to her cheeks. She might not be sure exactly what her feelings for Kim are or (maybe more accurately) what she wants to do about them, but there’s no denying that the girl is pretty. Or that her smiling up at Trini like that (from her lap!) doesn’t do weird things to her stomach.

“Right,” she manages. But then Kim’s grin turns a bit lopsided — almost smug — and that’s enough to jolt Trini out of it, if only to let out a little scoff. “You get the comfy lap and I get the rock wall. Typical.”

This guilt trip doesn’t appear to have any effect whatsoever on Kim, who just turns to rub her cheek against Trini’s thigh. “We’ll switch next time.”

“Next time we’re forced to sleep underground because our teammates are useless?”

“Mmm. No, next time we do this in general. Hopefully not underground.”

Trini gives herself another moment to watch Kim and this time, it’s more than a three second one. Kim’s lashes are long and there’s a light dusting of pink eye shadow against her lids and the corners of her lips are lifting, just a bit, in a soft smile. And yeah, Kim is always beautiful, but right then she also looks content — her forehead smooth from the lines that so often pinch the skin there — and Trini can’t help but reach out and brush a bit of hair back behind her ear, lest it get in the way. Kim just hums in pleasure, then reaches up to take Trini’s hand in her own, the softness in her expression translating to her touch.

“This is ‘getting used to it’, isn’t it?” Kim murmurs, eyes still closed.

Kim’s hand is warm, but not sweaty and Trini worries about the state of her own palm until Kim squeezes it gently in something that feels like reassurance and interlocks their fingers.

“Yeah. This’ll work.”

(The boys show up not an hour later — a while after Trini has drifted off — and the weird thing is, Trini wouldn’t have minded them taking a whole lot longer.)

#plastic-pipes #BIRTHDAY FIC #:D #trimberly #power rangers #ah another trope I adore: trapped and having to confront feelings #:DD #writing #hope it's okay that I'm a day early #I wanted to get this out before it got lost in prompts :D #happyyyyy birthdayyyyyy #:DDDD

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dragon-temeraire · 7 years

Text

Illuminate

Summary: Erica convinces Derek to go to an acapella performance with her. Things go better than he could have ever expected.

Notes: I went and saw an acapella performance last weekend, and it inspired me to write a little fic! And I’ve been wanting to write singer!Stiles for a while, so it worked out well. (On AO3)

“Come on, Derek. Please?” Erica says pleadingly, wrapping her hands around his bicep and squeezing. She leans her head against his shoulder for good measure, looking up at him sadly. “I know you’re working on being a hermit, but please come out with me to this one little thing.”

This method works pretty much every time, and Derek sighs. “Why don’t you get one of your other friends to go with you?” he asks. Erica is far more of a social butterfly than he is, he knows she has more friends than the two he’s managed to make.

“They’re not into acapella vocal performances,” Erica says.

“And what makes you think that I am?” Derek asks, eyebrow quirked.

“I know you like to sing,” she says, elbowing him playfully. “And I know you have a good ear for music. I’ve seen your record collection.”

Derek would kind of like to contest all of that, just for the sake of argument. But he’s honestly intrigued, because Erica doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be into acapella performances. “Okay, fine,” he says. “I’ll go.”

“Yes!” Erica says, beaming up at him. “But you better hurry, we have to leave in twenty minutes. I want to get good seats!”

“You couldn’t have given me more of a heads-up?” Derek asks, though he doesn’t really mind. “I need to change clothes.” Because even if this is a casual thing, he still doesn’t want to show up wearing sweat pants and a shirt with a hole in it.

“You wasted too much time trying to turn me down!” Erica calls after him as he climbs up the stairs to his bedroom. “This wouldn’t happen if you just said yes to your friends!”

Derek can’t help laughing, and shakes his head at himself in the mirror.

Derek drives, of course, and Erica directs him to an old building on a mostly abandoned street. “I can see why you didn’t want to come here alone,” he says, looking around dubiously as he parks.

“Oh, hush,” Erica says. “They can’t afford nice venues, okay?”

Derek pauses halfway to pushing his door open. “Wait a minute. How do you know that? Have you been to their performances before?”

“Maybe,” Erica says with a sly grin, climbing out of the Camaro.

Which means she’s been to more than she wants to admit, Derek thinks, smirking.

As they walk up, he sees a tattered poster taped to the side of the building. It says:

Vocal Acapella Quartet

Illuminate

Performing Fri, Sat and Sun!

Free

(donations gladly accepted)

Derek stares at it for a moment, wondering why Erica would come to see something like this more than once. He pushes open the door, and is surprised to find the reception area is filled with people milling around, talking and laughing together. He notices that many are waiting in line in front of a rickety card table, where they’re buying snacks and drinks.

“Wow, we really did need to get here early,” he mutters, and Erica shoots him an amused look. He gestures toward the back, where he assumes the double doors lead to the performance area. “Why don’t you get us some seats, I’m gonna buy some cookies.”

“You’re not going need food to get through this, I promise,” Erica says, laughing. “But get me some, too.”

“Of course,” Derek says, because he was already planning on it. Erica likes to pretend she’s not as big of a sweet tooth as Derek is, but he knows the truth.

A girl in a fox-eared hat is running the concessions very efficiently, and it’s not long before Derek’s buying his packages of M&M cookies and two tiny cups of fruit punch. “Thank you,” he says, and the girl gives him a bright, beaming smile. It somehow makes him feel less out of place, and he goes to find Erica with a little smile of his own.

Her long blond hair is easy to spot, and Derek is pleased to see that she got seats near the front, despite the crowd. “Thanks,” she says when he hands over her punch and cookies. She sneaks a look at her phone. “They should be starting soon.”

Derek wants to ask questions, like how Erica found out about Illuminate, and why she was so excited to show up to a crappy auditorium, but he’s too busy eating his cookies. They’re very good, and they deserve to be savored.

When Derek had seen the phrase “acapella quartet” on that poster, he’d imagined four middle-aged guys with nothing better to do in their free time. That…is not who walks out.

He takes the last gulp of his punch out of surprise, trying to get a good look as the stage lights suddenly dim.

“Hi, everybody,” one of them says out of the darkness. “We’re Illuminate, and we’ll be performing a variety of songs from different genres for you tonight. We hope you’ll enjoy it, and thanks for coming out!”

There’s a quiet shuffle on stage, and someone blows on a pitch pipe. In the absolute silence of the auditorium, it seems loud. Then they start to sing, and the opening notes are so thrillingly beautiful, it actually takes Derek a minute to realize they’re singing Fat Bottom Girls. The lights slowly come back up as they crest the high notes, and the effect just heightens Derek’s interest.

The chords are so clean and crisp, so perfectly blended, it almost sounds like just one person singing with an incredibly resonant voice. They sing Marry You and then something by Josh Groban, and Derek is mesmerized. He finds himself sitting up straight, upper body leaning toward the stage when he’s feeling particularly overwhelmed by the vocal harmony.

Every time one of the guys has a solo, Derek finds himself raptly attentive, enjoying the unique differences in each of their voices. They’re incredibly good, and Derek finds he’s already thinking about coming back tomorrow night.

“Isn’t Boyd hot?” Erica whispers in a very brief lull between songs.

“Yes,” Derek agrees. He has no idea which one Boyd is, but all of the guys on stage are good-looking, so it’s not a lie.

In fact, one of them, with fluffy golden hair and high cheekbones, actually looks like he could be a male model. Though Derek finds his attention keeps returning to the guy in the middle, who’s lanky and freckled and has a very lovely tenor.

They finish up Bohemian Rhapsody, then grin and wave at the crowd. “Hey, it’s time for a short musical intermission, which will be played for you by the talented Allison Argent!” Male Model says.

He watches as they help a pretty, dark-haired girl roll a piano onto the stage. She gives them all a bright smile, then begins to play something pleasantly lilting.

“Well?” Erica whispers, leaning in close. “What do you think so far?”

“It’s amazing,” Derek says quietly. He wants to say more, but he’s mindful of the crowd around them trying to listen to Allison’s music.

Erica grins at him and squeezes his shoulder, looking delighted. She’s going to be smug about this for ages, but he really doesn’t mind.

Allison plays a couple more songs as the quartet disappears backstage to take a break, probably getting drinks of water and resting their voices. And as much as he enjoys the piano, Derek finds he’s very eager for the guys to come back.

When intermission is over, they help Allison move the piano back offstage. Derek takes a moment to appreciate how nicely all of them are dressed, in fitted slacks with button down shirts tucked in. And if Derek’s eyes stray to Freckle Guy’s ass a couple of times, well, nobody has to know.

Soon they’re all back at the front of the stage again, singing She’s Not There, and it sounds surprisingly good as a quartet.

“We took this audience suggestion from our previous performance,” a guy with a very sunny smile says. “So you’ll be hearing it for the first time tonight.”

Derek is really beginning to wish he knew these guys’ names.

They do Don’t Stop Me Now, and Derek decides that, audience suggestion or not, at least one of them must be very fond of Queen. Then they sing a few more songs that Derek would have never expected to sound good acapella, and finish with The Scientist. The high notes sound so clear and sweet they actually give Derek chills.

He applauds loudly as they all bow, and then break into grins as they wave to the crowd. He’s watching with interest as they walk away, but then Erica is grabbing his arm and saying, “Come on, hurry.”

Derek doesn’t even try to ask, just lets Erica tow him back out to the entry area. But it’s just full of people, like it was before the show, though it looks like even more are buying cookies. “So what was the rush?” he says curiously.

“That,” Erica says, tilting her head.

Across the room, the quartet emerges from a side door, smiling and laughing. They stop in the middle of the room, and people immediately start approaching, shaking their hands and giving what Derek assumes are compliments.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to talk to Boyd,” Erica says, briefly leaning against his shoulder. “Do you think I should go for it?”

“Definitely,” Derek says encouragingly. “Start with something easy. Just tell him how much you liked his singing.”

“Okay,” Erica says, squaring her shoulders and nodding to Derek. “I’m gonna do it.”

Derek watches her walk away, and is relieved to see her approaching Muscular Baritone instead of Freckle Guy. And actually, he doesn’t even see Freckle Guy—

“I guess we have our answer,” says someone near his shoulder, and it’s him. “She’s been coming to a lot of our performances, and we were wondering if it was because she was into one of us,” he explains. “I’m guessing you’re not her boyfriend?”

“No, I’m not,” Derek says, unwilling to say more for fear of making a fool of himself. This guy is somehow even more attractive up close, and Derek feels very awkward.

“Okay, good,” Freckle Guy says cheerfully. “Boyd thought you might be, and he was very disappointed when you showed up. I, however, was not disappointed at all,” he adds, giving Derek a bright, almost flirtatious smile.

Derek just blinks at him, wishing he had better social skills.

Thankfully, Freckle Guy doesn’t seem too deterred. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he says, and Derek can’t help grinning, because of course this guy has an interesting name.

“I’m Derek,” he says in return. And he really, really doesn’t want Stiles to walk away, so before the silence stretches too long, he blurts, “I was thinking of coming to your performance tomorrow, too.”

“Really?” Stiles asks eagerly. “You liked it that much?”

“You guys were incredible,” Derek says honestly. “And I, uh. I might want to see you again.”

Stiles noticeably perks up at that. “I tell you what,” he says, leaning in. “If you come to tomorrow’s performance, I’ll take you to dinner afterward.”

Derek is so shocked that this is actually going in his favor, he just stares for a moment.

“Or late-night breakfast, or ice cream, or coffee,” Stiles says hurriedly, obviously thinking he’s lost Derek. “Whatever you want to eat.”

“Dinner sounds good,” Derek says with a smile.

“Then it’s a date!” Stile says excitedly. He glances away for a moment, then says, “Hey, it looks like our friends are hitting it off, too.”

When Derek looks over, he sees Erica standing close to Boyd, her hand on his arm as she smiles up at him. He doesn’t know Boyd, but Derek thinks he looks quite happy to be right where he is.

It’s the way Derek feels, too.

He and Stiles talk for another few minutes, before something catches his eye. “Oh, shoot, I gotta go help Kira count the concession money.” He reaches out and lightly squeezes Derek’s bicep. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Stiles beams. “Me too!” he says, then hurries across the room to the girl in the fox hat. He gives Derek one last wave, then they disappear through the side door.

Derek just stands there for a moment, feeling warm and light, a smile still curling the corners of his lips. He already can’t wait to see Stiles again.

Erica bounces over a few minutes later and grins up at him. “I got a date for tomorrow night!” she says excitedly.

And Derek really, really enjoys her expression of surprise when he gives an answering grin and says, “I did, too.”

#sterek #eternalsterek #singer!Stiles #fluff #my fic

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heauxadamas · 7 years

Text

“But Mom!” Part 4

Beca and Chloe both has no idea how to idea to answer the question from the 5-year-old, so they both look at him, minds reeling and the boy looking back and forth from one to the other. After a solid 5-second period, Aubrey decides to speak.

“Momma, DJ Beca, Aunt Stacie and Aunt Bree were all in one group back in college, Charles.” she smiles at him and the boy was beaming. His smile is wider than his and Chloe combined. He gets up from the DJ’s embrace to walk closer to Chloe. He looks up and motions for his mom to lower herself so he could whisper, “Is DJ Beca your best friend too?”

Of course, his whisper is heard by everyone, despite him covering his mouth. The tiny brunette from behind couldn’t help but let a smile slip up. Yeah, Chloe was her best friend. Isn’t anymore… but… was. Right? She.. Well. She’s Chloe.

Chloe on the other hand, still has no idea how to answer her excited little boy’s questions. “I’m Chloe’s best friend, Charles.” Aubrey jokes and all four women laugh.

“Come on, Charlie! Let��s stuff that tummy.” Beca talks to the boy and offers her hand out for him to hold. He gladly takes it and everyone is surprised by how easy it is for Charlie to bond and connect with Beca. He even let her get away with calling him ‘Charlie’. Only Chloe gets to call him that.

The tiny ones were already walking towards the buffet breakfast when Beca looks back, “You coming, Chlo?”

She felt her breath catch in her throat. All she could muster up was “I’ll be there in a sec.” She smiles genuinely at the brunette who seems to smile back.

Beca and Charlie were already busy picking out the food for Charlie’s plate and the three were there watching the two interact. “You know, I’m surprised Beca is being so good to Charlie.”

“Yeah…” Chloe answered her brunette friend.

Aubrey sensed how uncomfortable Chloe is with the whole situation, “Do you want us to take Charles after breakfast so you can talk to Beca?”

The redhead looked at her best friend, thinking for a minute, “Yeah, yeah. I think… that would be great. I don’t think Charlie can be removed from Beca’s hip though.”

“Oh come on, I will lure him with gifts.” Stacie brags.

“Momma you said you’d follow.” Charlie put on a pout and Chloe already felt a rush of guilt. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just catching up with Aunt Stacie.” Chloe looks like she was about to cry and Charlie just ignored her. He put his arms crossed while Chloe kept apologizing.

“Charlie, you know you’re not supposed to cross your arms when it comes to your mom.” Beca says gently while placing both their plates on the table. “Tell your momma it’s okay and that she can go get her food when she’s hungry.” She was on one knee, her eyes levelled with Charlie so he could see how serious she was being.

This was the first time Charlie was being told what to do and what not to do. ‘He’s a cute and smart kid, Chloe. But let’s face it. He’s a spoiled brat’ were Aubrey’s words.

Charlie has his eyebrows knit together and Beca was looking intently at him, “You know you won’t go to heaven if you make your mom cry.” She said after noticing the Chloe’s eyes were glassy. Charlie’s eyes widen at this. He hates seeing his mom cry. He may be spoiled but he loves Chloe. Chloe cries about so many things but this is the first time he was aware that Chloe is crying about his stubborness.

He then turns to Chloe, “I’m sorry momma.” He whispers and hugs her. Chloe mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Beca and the brunette got up smiling at the redheads. “Come on, Beale. Just go get your food.”

“I’m coming with, Momma!” Charlie beams.

The older redhead nods and their friends had slacked jaws. “How on earth did you discipline that little rascal?” Aubrey glares at Beca.

“What do you mean, how? You were here!” Beca says as she spreads honey on her pancakes. Aubrey raises her right arm and showed a scar that never faded. “I got this when he was three. I simply told him to eat his cereal and he hit me with his fork!”

“I have one on my foot when he planted a lego in my slippers.” Stacie says casually.

Beca was laughing. “Well, the kid already hit me with a beach ball. So…” All three of them laughed. The DJ looked back to the buffet and saw that Chloe and Charlie were still busy picking from the many choices.

“So… where is… Charlie’s dad?” She chose to say ‘Charlie’s dad’ instead of ‘Chloe’s husband’ because she couldn’t for the life of her accept that Chloe’s been married. Of course, she doesn’t know that the redhead isn’t.

The two ladies across her stuffed as much scrambled eggs into their mouths, and looked at each other. Neither wanted to answer the question ‘cause it wasn’t theirs to answer in the first place. “Oooo-kay. I’ll ask Chloe instead.” They were both thankful that Beca’s picked up on it.

Just right in time, the redheads were walking back to the table hand-in-hand. The table was rectangle so Charlie was seated to Beca’s left and Chloe at the head of the table with no one across her. By the time they got there, Beca was already finished eating so without even asking, she helped Charlie with his food and nodded at Chloe, the silence meaning: ‘Go on eat. I got this.’

Charlie finished his food fast. Beca didn’t even need to help him. Even if he was a scrawny kid, he really eats so much. It was then that Stacie ordered three slice of strawberry cheesecake. Chloe and Charlie’s favorite. Charlie immediately munched on his piece and Beca was now busy with her phone.

When Stacie noticed that Charlie was done with his, “I suddenly don’t feel like eating this cheesecake anymore. Here, Beca!” She pushed the untouched cheesecake towards the brunette and before she could even protest, “Hey Charles! I got you new space toys! You wanna come see them?”

And Beca understood. She knew where this was going. No need to pretend to give her free cheesecake. “Aubrey, you should go with them. Take pictures for me.” She surprised everyone, except Charlie, when she said it. When the blonde smiled and stood up the two were finally left alone in their table.

“You… wanna sit across me… or? Beside me…? Um.. It’s just. I mean it’s weird. It’s a huge— um. It’s a huge table and um—

Before she could finish her whole sentence, Chloe was already sitting across her. She wanted to sit beside Beca but she wanted to see the DJ’s face when they talk. It’s always been like that. She gingerly put Stacie’s plate to Aubrey’s side and then faced Beca.

“Hi.” She smiles at the brunette.

Beca smiles back, “Hey.”

There was a pause. Neither had no idea what to say. Well, Beca has a lot in mind, ‘How are you?’, ’Where have you been?’, ‘Is Charlie going to school?’ ,’Where do you live now?’, ‘How long have Stacie and Aubrey been together?’, ‘Have you spoken to any of the Bellas?’, ’How come you never replied to any of my message?’, ‘Why did you just walk out of my life like that?’…

“How are you, Becs?” Chloe Beale cut right through her thoughts and asked the first question.

“Um. Yeah, I’m good now. I’m a music producer slash DJ.” Beca smiles. “I worked with Bruno Mars.” She says laughing at the memory.

Chloe nods her head, “Yeah, we’ve heard the whole album. Charlie likes it. Especially the one that goes like… Oooh chunky! ” Chloe laughs to herself. Beca was laughing now too. The redhead’s attempt to sing was quite adorable. “Dude, that is my favourite too! I honestly think it’s waaaay better than 24K Magic. It has that slow but old school beat, you know?” The brunette pauses. “Oh man. That song just…” She smiles to look at the redhead who was eagerly listening to her.

Chloe always loved it when Beca talked about her music. “Yeah… you know what?”

Beca raises an eyebrow and notices Chloe going through her phone. When the redhead’s face lit up, Beca looks at her confused. Chloe then hands Beca her phone, “Go on, play it.”

It was a video of Charlie.

Charlie dancing to Chunky in his hawaiian polo, cargo shorts, shades, and the hat like Bruno Mars owns.

“Charlie! Dance in front of the camera!” the, then 4-year-old, boy walks near the camera and puts up his shades. Chloe squeals in the background of the video. “Move to the music, honey.”

With that the boy sways from side to side adorably failing at snapping his fingers to the beat. He walks towards the video, “Momma, dance wif me.” He was holding his hand out to Chloe and the mom just laughed. “Alright, alright!” she placed her phone on the table and danced with the kid.

“Ooooh Chunky!!!” they both sang.

Beca was smiling. The two redheads couldn’t be more adorable. “When was this?”

“Just last year!” Chloe answers excitedly. “Chlo, you were playing a 2016 song last year? Come on, educate your son” Beca teases.

Chloe feigns a gasp, “Shut it, Mitchell! It was your song!” They both laughed at it.

The laughter eventually dying down, both couldn’t help but look into each other’s eyes and just… stay there for a minute.

“Did we do the right thing leaving them there?” Aubrey whispers to Stacie as they watched the boy open his new Naboo Fighter Spaceship Vehicle with excitement. “Yeah, I mean… Chloe basically asked us to leave them, right?” Stacie answered.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine!” Aubrey quips.

They were both anxious but decided to just focus all their attention to Charlie. “Do you think DJ Beca likes Star Wars?”

Stacie smiled at him because, yeah, Beca does love Star Wars. She’s also been so smug about having read the book before watching the movie… even though the film came before the print. “Yeah, she loves it! It’s probably one of the movies she only likes!”

“Me too! Me too!” Charlie says excitedly.

“Yeah, Charles! You do have a lot in common with your Aunt Beca.” Aubrey says.

Unaware of how she just phrased it, Charlie looks at both of them intently. “DJ Beca should be my dad” Now, they were both speechless and had no idea how to answer the kid.

They suddenly burst out laughing, because wow, leave it to a 5-year-old to make Beca his dad. “You know Beca can’t be your dad…” Aubrey raises her eyebrow.

Charlie was about to whine, when Stacie interjects, “but she could be your Mom!”

“Two moms?” Charlie smiles. His imagination suddenly running wild. All the toys he can get from two moms?! Everything that he wants?! Moms love him! Moms make him happy!

TWO MOMS?! Boy, this kid’s jumping up and down the room and the couple watching him can’t help but join him.

Beca realizes she’s been trapped in those eyes again and clears her throat and asks the first question that’s been on her mind, “Uh… Where’s Charlie’s dad?”

The redhead was taken aback by the sudden question and forgets to speak. Clearly, Beca wasn’t backing out of it. She knows she should… she just… doesn’t want to. “He… has a dad… right?”

“Oh… well, yeah. I’m. I just. I don’t know him.” Chloe is busy playing with the fruit slices on her plate to look at Beca. She was ashamed of it but she’d try to explain it. It’s time Beca knows about all of it. Charlie deserves it. “Yeah… right after World’s… when you, ran off to Jesse?,” she scoffs at herself “I ran off to booze. Then, I… had too much to drink and I — you know there was a guy… I can’t even remember his name but yeah. Then, I knew about Charlie on graduation day.” Chloe’s eyes are glassy when she finally dares to look at the brunette.

Beca is looking at her. She can’t really read the brunette’s emotion… relief? Confusion? Anger? Shock? Sadness? “So… you’re… you’re not married?” She asks Chloe.

“No… it’s Charles Anthony Beale.” She smiles sadly.

“Oh. So that night… graduation night… you didn’t run off because of — I mean — because of what I said, right?” It’s Beca’s turn to look incredibly shy.

Chloe reaches out to hold Beca’s hand, “I’ve loved you my whole life, Becs. It wasn’t because of what you said.”

The DJ looks up at Chloe with a smile on her face and interlaced their fingers together. “Probably not your whole life… but…”

“You’re still a smart mouth, aren’t you?” Chloe raises an eyebrow.

Beca stands up and walks towards the redhead’s side of the table. She kneels and asks for her hand, “Chloe Beale, will you go out on a date with me?” Beca smirks.

“Thought you’d never ask!” Chloe smiles.

A/N: I just said Wednesday but I suddenly finished it ‘cause I had free time. Lol. ALSO here’s the thing. I’m not good with fluff and happy endings for real. This one’s legit supposed to be a mini-fluff-fic and like lol idk. (Honestly supposed to be one-shot but that didn’t happen) HOWEVER, I’m thinking about like continuing the story? Add drama? I don’t know. What to do you guys think? Will you let me know?

also... hi @fufu-pham @wearmypainlikestilettos @sofisnow u guys are cool for like the voicing out your compliments and “need” for this mini-fic. It keeps me driven. Lol. Thanks hihi

Quick Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

#but mom part 4 #bechloe fanfic #but mom #bechloe moms #myfic

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tasteofswallowedwords · 7 years

Text

Delinquents

Part One

Pairing: Jughead x reader

Warnings: Swearing, I think this qualifies as angst, some violence

Summary: Jughead meets the reader in the Riverdale Juvenile Delinquent Center

A/N: I haven’t decided if I’ll do another part to this, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so I had to write it down

*** SIX YEARS AGO ***

The boy was bigger than Jughead. Much bigger. He had shoulder-length, dark hair and looked like he might be hiding a cheap tattoo or a weapon under his jumpsuit. He was fourteen, but to Jughead, he may as well have been forty.

Jughead’s feet lifted off the ground as he was pushed up against the wall, the air forced from his lungs.

“All those little kids,” the boy spat in his face. “You were gonna burn all those little kids, you sick fuck.”

“I wasn’t,” Jughead protested, but it was futile.

The boy threw him to the ground. Jughead’s elbow jarred against the floor and his eyes screwed shut in agony.

“Good thing they caught you, Pyro,” the boy laughed as he delivered a sharp kick to Jughead’s ribs. “And they sent you here so I could teach you a lesson.”

“Maybe they sent him here so he could watch me kick your ass,” a small voice called coolly.

Jughead opened his eyes to see a girl, wearing the standard orange jumpsuit which was way too big for her, and a backwards red baseball cap. She looked positively tiny. Jughead couldn’t believe the voice had belonged to her, she seemed much too innocent to utter such a phrase.

The boy looked her up and down and laughed. “What did you just say?” he managed to sputter through his snickering.

“You heard what I said,” she answered, folding her arms across her chest. Her voice was commanding but she was the least intimidating person Jughead had ever seen. He couldn’t help but be disappointed that this was the person who had come to his rescue. Where were the huge security guards with the batons and pepper spray when he needed them?

“Why do you care about Lava Girl?” he mocked, kicking Jughead in the thigh.

“I don’t,” she answered. “But I’ve been looking for something to hit since I got here, and your face is begging for it.”

“Listen, kid,” the boy sighed. He turned from Jughead and loomed over the girl. He was probably half a foot taller than her. “I’m feeling kind today, so I won’t beat the crap out of you for threatening me. Just run along. Go make some daisy chains or something, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Jughead sat up, leaning against the wall. He watched with curious eyes as the girl squared her shoulders and stared levelly at the bully. There was not a hint of fear on her features.

“I said get lost,” the boy said through his teeth. When she didn’t move, he huffed in frustration. “Go!” he insisted, pushing her by the shoulders.

She was moving before Jughead even knew what was happening. Her tiny fist flew at the boy’s face and connected perfectly with his nose. Blood spurted immediately, but he didn’t even have time to react before she drove her knee into his thigh and sent him crashing to the ground.

“Next time,” she said, smiling ruefully, “remember that being bigger than somebody doesn’t mean you’re more powerful. It just means you fall harder.”

With that, she delivered a single kick to the same thigh she had targeted earlier, and smiled with satisfaction. She walked over to Jughead, offering her hand, and helped him up.

Jughead stood a few inches taller than her, but her confidence seemed to give her extra height.

“Nice hat,” she grinned.

“Ditto,” he replied, failing at suppressing a beam of his own.

“We should probably run now,” she whispered. She glanced at the boy, who was already clambering to his feet.

“Definitely,” Jughead agreed.

She grabbed his hand and they sprinted down the corridor, both almost tripping over the legs of their too-long jumpsuits.

***

“What’s your name?” the girl asked, pushing her cold beans around the tray with her spoon.

“Jughead,” he replied. “Jughead Jones. You?”

“(Y/N).”

He nodded, poking at the thing on his tray that was supposedly mashed potatoes but had taken on a grey hue.

“You didn’t have to help me earlier,” he said eventually.

“I’m sorry, do you like getting the crap kicked out of you?” (Y/N) joked.

He rolled his eyes. “I just mean… You could get in a lot of trouble for that.”

“I’m already in a lot of trouble, Jughead,” she smiled. “I’m in juvy.”

“Really?” he said sarcastically. “And here I was thinking this is summer camp.”

She giggled. Jughead could tell she was swinging her legs underneath her from the way she bounced slightly on her chair.

“What did you do, (Y/N)?” he asked quietly, and immediately regretted it.

Her expression darkened, and she became utterly still. She stared straight through the food in front of her as ice spread through her chest up her throat, choking her. She fought the images as best she could, but it was a losing battle. Tyres screeched against pavement, a horn blasted and her brother screamed until there was no air left inside of him. Metal buckled and snapped, her head cracked against the window. Glass shattered and rained down on them both and blood stung her eyes.

Without warning, she jumped from her seat and swiped the tray off the table. It clattered to the ground, and all the kids in the mess hall turned to watch as she was dragged off to her cell, not bothering to protest.

The door slammed shut behind them. Talk soon resumed, but Jughead remained silent, the untouched food in front of him becoming staler by the minute. What could (Y/N) have done that was so bad she couldn’t talk about it? She was no older than him, and was perhaps the least threatening person he had ever laid eyes on. Though she had taken down that bully in just two swift moves. Maybe she had a propensity for violence and a fragile temper. She must’ve done something terrible if she’d purposely get in trouble with the guards just to return to her cell and avoid talking about it.

***

They deviated from the usual route to (Y/N)’s cell. At first she didn’t notice; images of smoke and flashing blue lights clouded her vision, and sirens drowned out the clunks of their bootsteps. She seemed to be in more trouble than she had anticipated, because they brought her to a halt outside an intimidating office.

“Come in,” the warden’s voice called from inside.

They shepherded her through the door. The room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and the kind of cheap cologne her mother’s boyfriend would wear, which only served to vomit up old memories of her heart hammering at her ribcage and her brother whimpering next to her.

“(Y/L/N),” the warden muttered. “Take a seat.”

The balding man peered at her from the other side of the desk. His shirt barely contained his rotund stomach, the buttons straining to break free. He pointed a pen at her.

“I had hoped we would see very little of each other, (Y/L/N),” he sighed, his false disappointment completely unconvincing.

She watched him, schooling her face to remain neutral, despite her sweaty palms and thunderous heartbeat. She was a rabbit caught in a snare, with no clue if she would be spared or if she would be lunch. Although (Y/N) was exceptionally brave when others needed her, she hadn’t the faintest idea about how to take care of herself.

“I had hoped you would be cooperative,” he continued. “Did you find the lunch you were provided to be… unsatisfactory?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” he affirmed, nodding vigorously, staring intently into her eyes. “Because you’re out of here tomorrow.”

“What?” she gasped, heart almost galloping onto the desk.

“Have you forgotten?” he asked mockingly. “You’re on trial tomorrow.”

The walls closed in on her. There was no noise but the painful beat of her heart and her thoughts screaming at her.

“Since I’m feeling so charitable, I have decided not to report your little incident from this morning,” the warden threatened. “But if you continue with this disrespectful behaviour, I just might let it slip.”

“What incident, sir?” she asked carefully.

He chuckled. “Bradley Nolan turned up at the infirmary before lunch. Broken nose. Wouldn’t tell anyone what happened to him, not that that’s unusual.”

(Y/N) stared at her hands folded in her lap and tried not to give herself away.

“That looks suspiciously like blood on your jumpsuit, inmate.”

She glanced down at herself and her heart cowered further into her chest. How had she not noticed before? A blood splatter at least six inches long adorned her jumpsuit. She tried not to think about where it had come from.

“Don’t let it happen again, (Y/L/N),” he warned. “If the prosecution got wind of this, you’d be done for.”

She nodded. The warden placed his elbows on the desk, leaning forward. His eyebrows furrowed in genuine sadness.

“You’re a good kid, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You’ve had it tough, but you’re a good kid. Listen to me, okay? People shape their situations. Situations do not shape people. I understand that things are looking a little grim for you right now, but you can change it. I believe in you.”

(Y/N) glanced up at him, tears threatening to escape. His eyes were earnest, and his smile sad, but kind.

“Thank you,” she said, barely a whisper, though she could not bring herself to believe his words.

***

He noticed her red baseball cap from across the courtyard, and he hurried over to her. She sat on the bleachers, legs crossed underneath her, looking smaller than ever.

He sat beside her, nudging her gently with his elbow.

“Next time,” he offered, “why don’t you just tell me you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said casually.

“See?” he laughed. “That was easy.”

She nodded, smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

They settled into a heavy silence, watching a group of kids fight over a basketball.

“They caught me playing with matches,” Jughead said eventually.

(Y/N) glanced at him. He stared off into the distance, not seeing the courtyard in front of him. His beanie was perched askew over his dark curls.

“At school,” he continued. “I was playing with matches and they said I was trying to burn the place down.”

“That sucks,” she said.

He met her gaze, a sad smile playing across his features. “I’ll be out soon. It doesn’t matter.”

“You shouldn’t be here at all.” She drew her eyebrows together, staring at her hands, wringing her fingers together. “Wanna know a secret?” she said finally.

“I live for secrets.”

“I stole a car,” she said, barely audible over the noise of the courtyard.

“Aren’t you ten years old?” he exclaimed. “Did you think you would get away with it?”

“I was counting on it,” she shrugged. “And I would’ve. But I crashed.”

“Shit,” he breathed. “Did you get hurt?”

“No,” she muttered. “I didn’t.”

“You sound disappointed.”

She glanced up, watching two birds chase each other across the sky. “I was stupid. I thought I was being smart. Look where it got me.”

“Whose car did you steal?” he asked carefully.

She laughed without humour. “My mom’s boyfriend’s.”

“Where were you going?”

“Away from here.”

***

Jughead watched through the window as (Y/N) was led across the courtyard. She wore a white T-shirt and dungarees with a rip in the knee. Her scuffed red Vans dragged on the gravel as two guards herded her towards a van. She climbed in, and he caught one last glimpse of her baseball cap as they slammed the door shut behind her. Before the van had disappeared over the horizon, Jughead was already scribbling in his notebook. He didn’t know the true mystery behind (Y/N)’s time in Riverdale’s Juvenile Delinquent Centre, but he could write one. It might not be as intriguing, but at least it would have an ending.

Part Two

#jughead x reader #jughead jones #jughead imagine #riverdale x reader #riverdale imagine #riverdale

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hawaiianhalfwolf · 7 years

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Hey Jude, Don’t let me Down | Noah & Cahill & Eliza

~FLACHBACK~

Directly following this solo, Half naked Noah and his band of Merry werewolves ( @cahillkalani and @drelizalabaton) tackle that pesky dead kid in the locker room situation.

Taking a deep breath Noah tried his hardest to center himself the cloth of the seat behind him digging into his bare back. This week was turning out to be just a fine one, with the pinky thing and now this. Whatever the hell this was. I mean was it some cruel joke? Possibly. Was it the actual Zombie apocalypse? Who the hell even knew anymore? Especially in Ashkent, the hotbed of weirdness. Taking another breath though Noah closed his eyes scrunching his toes against the wet floorboards. God he wanted to be dressed so bad. But he was not going to open that truck door for no one ok not even. And there it was the sound of the knock on his truck door practically propelling him up into the roof. Opening his eyes, pupils dilated with fear Noah looked around hoping it was not who he thought it might be.

Cahill hadn't exactly obeyed speed limit laws as he turned down the road away from the shop and headed straight for UMAC. As soon as he'd gotten the message from Eliza that Noah knew, the primary goal was to get to him rather than track down whatever it was that had shown up. There were times that living in Ashkent Creek was enough to make him feel like they should all relocate, but they seemed so few and far between that it was easy to justify staying. If nothing else, the memories they had planted in that town kept him in place. This, though? This was pushing him closer to the edge, and he hadn't even seen the thing yet. He refused to call it Jude. It wasn't Jude. The engine of the bike rumbled as he pulled into the parking lot, searching for Noah's vehicle. When he pulled up next to it, the boy seemed oblivious to his present. At least, he was until Cahill was tapping his fist knuckles against the metal of the door.

Breathing a sigh of relief once he realized that it was Cahill and not the Jude-Zombie, Noah unclenched a little some of the anxiety dissipating. Because here was his giant of an uncle head not even in the frame of the window, here to help. Because that’s what family did. Reaching over Noah pulled the door lock up, successfully unlocking the passenger side door for his uncle. It would be a little cramped in the two seater 1979 chevy, with cahill Noah and Noah’s school/practice stuff, but Noah figured this would be better than the both of them standing out in the open. Where the… things could see them plain as day. Looking over he beckoned his uncle into the vehicle

Without much hesitation, Cahill was pulling open the door as soon as Noah had unlocked it. Getting in, there was little hesitation in leaning over, as awkward or not, and throwing an arm around Noah in a hug. "Are you okay?" He already felt like he was going crazy, and he hadn't even seen the creature yet. Whatever it was--and whatever it wanted--had yet to be seen. With a frown, Cahill was shifting a few of the things in the seat to make as much room as possible, letting the door close slightly despite not being able to get it to latch all the way. After a pause, he was taking a slow breath and looking back towards the school. The surrounding parking lot. The road leading away from the college. "Did you see it?"

Letting his uncle throw an arm around him Noah relished the contact if only for a few seconds. Touch had always grounded him, and even more so after the transplant. “ Well besides the fact i had to run across campus in just a towel, yea I’m fine” Noah replied hoping that that put all of the worries to rest. Because he was fine really, just emotionally scarred for life. Helping his uncle rearrange a few things though Noah Noah did his own scan of the parking lot, things seemingly ok “See it?” He huffed once Cahill spoke again, approving of his use of the word it. “I had a full blown conversation with it. One in which he insulted my dick.” Ok so that last thing was definitely the most trivial of the equation but, he was adding it. Because he could.

Maybe he should've had a better response for this, but as Noah explained what happened Cahill couldn't stop the short laugh that slipped out. It didn't last long; no more than a breath before it faded and his frown was back. Fuck. He could say that a number of times and it didn't quite feel like it encapsulated his feelings on the matter. Part of him wanted to step out of the truck already; head into the school or where ever Noah saw it last and find out what it was. Better yet, find out what to do with it. He had a lot of thoughts on the matter, but most of them were going to be kept silent. "Was it inside?" His gaze was constantly scanning, looking for some sign of it. Or, perhaps more helpfully, signs of Eliza. At least when she arrived he'd be able to step away from Noah without feeling bad about it.

Thank you for being calm. Noah had sent Eliza those words, and they were running through her mind now, a reminder that she would need to stay calm when she arrived. Noah was clearly spooked, and she couldn't blame him. If she were being honest with herself, which she definitely was not, she was spooked, too. Cahill wouldn't be any better, protective mother wolf that he was. What she had to remember was that this was a family member they were both having to face down. Nevermind that Eliza had grown up with the Kalani's since she was seven, and Jude was family to her, too. That didn't matter. It wasn't about her right now. It was about Noah and it was about Cahill and whatever she could do, which meant she needed, above all else, to stay calm. Noah's truck was easy to spot with Cahill's bike next to it, and she pulled up on the other side, taking a quiet, deep breath before getting out of her car. She walked around to the driver's side, intentionally, and opened the door. "Okay, out. You can change in my backseat. Cahill, passenger side."

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle slightly along with his uncle, the absurdity of it all just too much for his tired mind to bear. But as with everything that brief moment of reprieve came to a swift close, replaced by the somber mood they both had in the beginning settling back down in the air. Because, while it wasn’t Jude, it was Jude. And dealing with all of this was going to be difficult for everyone involved. “He was in the locker room. Hence this get up” Noah replied sweeping a hand toward his uncovered abs with a sigh. But that was also short lived as well as as soon as he exhaled everything was spinning again, Eliza wrenching his door open and scaring the living daylight out of him. Grabbing his gym bag though Noah complied without argument, knowing from previous experience it was better to just do what Eliza wanted from the beginning. And what she wanted right now was for him to get out and transferred to her car, which he did, bare footed and all. Sitting there though as they all transferred to the more appropriate vehicle for the matter Noah figured he’d help break the ice a little “Soooo, I’m just going to preface our first little interaction here with a blanket ‘I’m sorry for the Magic Mike show that’s about to be put on back here, but I’m fucking freezing my nuts off in this tiny towel” He said casually as he started rummaging through his bag for a clean pair of underwear.

Cahill nodded slowly, glancing back towards the school yet again. "How long ago?" At this point, it was information gathering. It was finding out where this thing was and if it'd left already. Clearly, it was looking for them. Why hadn't it shown up at the truck? For as fast as Noah may have run, Cahill found it hard to believe that it wouldn't have followed shortly behind. He didn't have time to ask anything else because the driver side door was open and he was jumping almost in time with Noah. Instead of Jude, it was Eliza standing there and he was quick to push his door back open and step out. As he stood, he was following her over the hood of the car with his gaze. It wasn't until Noah was giving his disclaimer and climbing into the backseat that he was addressing Eliza more fully. "I think it's still in there. Take him home--or somewhere. I'm going to go find it."

Eliza should have felt worse for scaring both of them, and she probably shouldn't have assumed they were paying attention to anything outside of the truck- but with an undead Jude thing, they should have been. What if it hadn't been her? She watched Noah comply instantly, her eyes shifting to Cahill, because she knew he wouldn't be as easy. It was predictable the way he told her that he was going in. Quietly and calmly, she said, "Hey, Cahill, listen to me for just a second. I really think you should stay with Noah, and I should go in. I know you don't like the idea, but I think it's best."

To be completely honest Noah should have predicted what was going to happen next, with Cahill offering to sacrifice himself to the Jude-Zombie, and then Eliza offering the same the, both of them speaking like he wasn’t even in the car anymore. Sighing Noah picked up a clean shirt, figuring since it was more easily accessible than his clean boxers at the moment he’d put that one “You know I think that once he’s actually got some clothes on Noah should make his own decisions.” He butted in as he threw his shirt tee shirt over his head, rolling the fabric down his abs. “Especially since Noah is really the only person who knows the full extent of what we were dealing with right now” He continued giving both of them a stern look from the back seat.

This could be going better. It was a phrase Cahill had been using too many times in the past few days and it didn't set easily with him. As soon as Eliza was debating his idea, he was clenching his jaw a bit. It wasn't anger; he didn't mind the disagreement and often welcomed it from her. He needed her to keep him grounded, after all. But nothing about this situation sat right with him and worry was already eating at the edges of his thought. "No. I don't think that's for the best," he countered, though it wasn't much of an argument as it was a knee-jerk response. When his gaze shifted to Noah, his eyebrow was arching slightly. "You're not going back in there, whether or not you know the most."

Eliza leveled a look on Noah that he would have been very familiar with. She didn't often pull rank, not unless she needed to, but Noah was not going back inside. He ran naked out to his car. That said something. She looked back to Cahill, jerking her head as an indication for him to step out of the car, just briefly. The parking lot was still clear, so she felt safe doing so, and when Cahill was out of his seat too, she was speaking to him over the roof of the car, voice quiet because she hadn't closed her door. "You know I'm not going to fight you on this, but please just consider this. Listen to me. Noah needs emotional support right now, and whether or not you'll admit it, so do you. You and I both know you're a hell of a lot more qualified to give that than I am. I have my field kit, I can figure out what we're dealing with, if it's even human or were or whatever. It showed up at the shop and the school- it's looking for you both, it's not looking for me. You could be walking into a trap. Not to mention, of the three of us, I am currently the most level headed." She rushed to get all of her points across because the next time Cahill said no, it would be law and she would listen, but she felt passionately that he should not go. "Please, Cahill."

Looking at Eliza Noah stared straight back into her gaze the fire now officially lit underneath him. Because yea, he was scared, who wouldn’t be when faced with a dead family member, but he was not being left behind. He was not going to just sit somewhere and wait for the werewolves to take care of it. He was not useless, he was useful, and he’d prove it to them time and time again if that’s what it took. “I’m not going to sit somewhere like some damsel in distress ok” Noah barked out toward the both of them as he turned to dig back into his bag finally finding the black boxer briefs he was looking for. Watching though as he successfully was getting shut out of the conversation by two grown ass adults Noah just huffed, using the time to unknot his towel and quickly slide on his boxer briefs. Grabbing the jeans from his bag through he threw open the door and stepped out into the conversation. “So I don’t give two shits about what you two are talking about right now, but If this isn’t a prank and actual people are rising from the dead for some god awful reason, You’re going to need me.” he said stepping into his right pant leg and sliding it up to his calf “Why? Because out of the three of us I know Jude the best. And if it is him and he needs me I am going to be there for him. And if he doesn’t I am not going anywhere till I get answers.” He slid his other leg into his jeans “So yea I may be scared shitless but I am not going anywhere and that’s final” He spat before gracefully pulling his pants all the way up and buttoning them with a small flourish.

Yeah. This really wasn't great. Cahill should have expected more push back from both of them, but in the back of his mind he had hoped that this could just go easily. That he'd be able to find a way to sort out this problem without having to make every issue something giant. But that's what this was, right? Something giant. Massive. This was someone rising from the dead; possibly multiple someones. He was about to shake his head at Eliza when Noah was stepping out of the car and offering the same level of resistance. He huffed, a half snarl on his lips and concern marring nearly everything he wanted to do. None of this would happen cleanly, and he knew that. He looked back to Noah, a frown setting across his face. Honesty was always more important than hiding things, and they both seemed to stand by that. "And if it's not him?" He asked, hands moving to rest against the roof of the car. He was anything but relaxed. "What if we have to kill it?"

Eliza, without really thinking it through, looked at Noah almost lazily. "I think you meant scared shirtless." And suddenly, Cahill was dismissing her and she was out of the battle. She threw her hands up, walking to the back of the car. If Noah was talking his way into this, she was sure as shit going, too. Personally, she thought they were both too emotionally charged to be thinking this through clearly, but it wasn't her call to make. She popped the trunk and grabbed her kit.

Listening to Eliza Noah inhaled slightly, if it had been any other time that would have been the best comeback and he would have laughed. But not this time, because now he was staring down a giant 6’5 alpha and he was not going to lose. “I already relive his death all the time in my nightmares, what’s another time in real life.” Noah countered eyes now cold. He hadn’t exactly meant to say that, but in the battle of words the first one to draw blood won. And he was hoping that that one would hit hard. Looking over at Eliza though he caught her popping the trunk “You’ll get lost trying to find your way to the locker room without me, so you both might as well yield” He said watching her cautiously.

God, he wanted to reach over the car and strangle Noah where he stood. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Cahill was drawing a breath in between his teeth and attempting to find some sort of footing in the conversation that didn't involve opening all of the old wounds laid out in front of them. That was a lot easier when his dead nephew wasn't inside the school somewhere. "Because as your alpha, not just your family, to protect you from having to relive that." His voice was firm this time, but the slight snarl was back and he was looking to Eliza. None of this was ideal, and when his gaze turned back towards the school he was pushing away from the car. "Show us where the locker room is." He paused, turning back to make sure he was looking at Noah when he spoke again. "But if I tell you to get out, you do. Understand me? No fighting it."

"Unbelievable." Eliza had meant to only think it, but there was a quick swell of panic at the fact that Cahill was giving in, and the two most important men in her life were charging into the unknown wound as tightly as possible. Sure, there was absolutely no way in which this could turn out poorly. She squashed the bad feeling, trying to take solace in the fact that if anything did happen, she at least had her wits about her. She also had a pretty healthy tranquilizer in her kit, which, right now, was a toss up of whether she would have to use it on the undead or her alpha. Coming up to them again, she took an honest look at Noah and put her hand on his arm. “Hey… hey, look at me. Now’s not the time. Just take us in, okay?” It was the alpha comment that had done it, but that was an argument for later, if he still wanted to push the point. "I just want to point out that there are still people in there and causing a scene should be our last resort.” This was directed mostly at Cahill.

For a moment all Noah could see red, the alpha comment rattling around in his brain, Because while Noah was part of the pack as a formality, he was not a werewolf. Cahill was his uncle first, alpha second and never EVER the other way around. And he would be damned if his Uncle was going to order him to stay out of it to simply ‘protect him’ when he clearly was very very much in it. But luckily for the both of them Eliza, the ultimate diffuser stepped forward, grounding Noah with a gentle hand. “Fine” He conceded biting back the venom he had been preparing “But I’m not here as a simple accessory ok” He replied looking at Cahill before reaching in to grab his shoes the socks still shoved inside “Most of the football team is out so there would only be a few people if any at all to contend with” He said pulling on a sock and stepping into one of his shoes.

Cahill wasn't sure if the situation inside the school or out was more stressful. The tension between him and Noah was building, and while there were times that it was almost unnoticeable, it was always there. It always lingered under the surface or felt like a weight on his chest. He wasn't sure if it was responsibility or guilt that felt more stifling. Eliza was drawing them both back to present, keeping them focused. She was irritated, and it was easy enough to read it on her face. Even if hiding her emotions was something she wanted to do, he was almost positive she wouldn't be able to. Rather than give reply, he grit his teeth slightly and nodded. He didn't want to cause a scene, that much he could agree with. He didn't want any of this. But that hadn't been left as an option. Flexing his hands for a second, they were curling into fists a moment and he was nodding. "Let's go." He motioned stiffly towards the school, letting Noah lead the way if only in position. His attention was still sharp and eyes focused ahead of them. Should something happen, he was ready to move and move quickly.

Eliza fell to the back of their small pack, and would stay there even when, inevitably, Cahill and Noah switched positions. The strongest in the lead, next taking up the rear, protection from both ends. Even if it was a more labored attempt for her, she kept her senses razor sharp, kept her pulse under control, and stayed ready to jump between Cahill and Noah or the two of them and something more sinister, whatever was needed.

Pulling on his other sock Noah laced up his shoes, grabbing his iphone from the car as he did it. They were waiting on him to leave but he didn’t care, the quiet rage sitting underneath the surface. And he hadn’t felt that rage in a long time, the stuff that made him see red, the stuff that made him want to break shit, and drink till he was numb. But he guessed right now being mad was better than being scared, which was still there too. Underneath it all. Stepping into the lead his uncle begrudgingly offered him Noah walked with confidence his head held high. This was his territory, this was his family, this was his locker room. And he was going to be damn if he didn;t act like it. Cutting off the main walkway and onto a small secretive little gravel path Noah motioned for the other two to follow, eyes glancing around for any sign of movement “It’s through here.” He said hoping to quell the well, whatever there was to quell.

When it came to leading, Cahill had never felt the need to hold onto control very tightly. As long as rules were followed and tasks were completed, it didn't matter who was in the front. And then, after Evan and his family had died, leaving just him and Noah, a switch had flipped. Then, it became protecting Noah, at any cost, even if he was capable of taking care of himself. Sometimes, that urge flared more than others. Such as now, as he stood in the parking lot of the school, no idea what was waiting inside, and letting Noah take the lead. Protecting him meant keeping him safe from anything, including the emotional pain of having to face his dead little brother. At the end of the day, it always seemed to become clear that Cahill was capable of forcing very little on Noah. Keeping his focus sharp, he was looking around as they entered the school, his eyes turning towards Noah. "Alright. Quietly, yeah?"

Eliza could almost feel the different emotions between them. Noah and Cahill were in very different places, mentally, and she suspected they knew very little of what the other was feeling. She could only hope, then, that it wouldn't get them in trouble in the next few minutes, whatever happened. She nudged Cahill, a silent and unneeded plea to be ready to inflict damage, if necessary. She could get Noah out of the way, if it came to that. And, lastly, "Just let me assess what we're dealing with, okay?"

Walking down the hall and towards the set of doors marked BOYS Noah stopped slightly looking back at Eliza. Who definitely wasn’t a boy in the biological sense of the word. But seemed to want to assess the situation anyway “Well If you get arrested for this it’s on you” he grunted toward here before pushing the door open slightly and poking his head through. It did not look like the attendant was in his little office right now so at least Eliza had that going for her. But that was then he heard it echoing through the locker room. “He’s coming back for me I know it,” came Jude’s voice, the tell tale tremor of emotion left on his words, as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. And Noah wanted to be careful he really did, but he also couldn’t resist that sound, the one of someone in need, his brother in need. So that was how he found himself surging forward toward the sound eyes scanning his surroundings desperately.

The plan was to be quiet. Assess the situation. Go slow. But, the best plans were usually changed last minute and the Kalani's had never really been good about being slow. It was why, as soon as Noah was bursting forward ahead of them at the sound of a voice that sent knives through Cahill's heart, he was following suit. There was a breathed out curse that was barely audible and he didn't pause for a second to consider what they might be faced with. In his mind, he'd pictured zombies from the movies. A decomposing body that only vaguely resembled his nephew. Maybe he expected to find him similar to when he had been found initially. What he didn't expect was the perfect, unchanged view of his nephew sitting there. His mouth fell open for a moment as he stopped dead, a few feet back from where both Jude and Noah were. His lips moved as if they were going to form words and yet nothing came out. Confusion, and awe, washed across his face. He didn't want to believe that this was okay or that it'd continue to be fine. Something would go wrong. Something always went wrong. But none of that changed the fact that it felt good to see Jude in front of him, strings or no strings attached.

And there they went, breaking protocol and the plan right away, leaving Eliza no choice but to follow suit. Her stupid, loving boys. The same way they came in, Eliza took up the rear, stopping a few feet behind Cahill and Noah. The fact was, as happy as it would have made them, she still didn't trust this and the feeling in her gut didn't change her mind, even seeing a perfect little Jude in front of her. At least she was smart enough not to put voice to the thought about why he wasn't decomposing. He'd been in the ground long enough that he shouldn't have skin, and.... this wasn't Jude. "When I die, cremate me," she whispered, not expecting either of the men with her to pay attention.

Focusing all his attention on his little brother Noah barely realized that the attendant that was supposed to be watching the door was the one helping Jude. And it made sense, a perfect little boy seemingly lost in a locker room, hoping beyond all doubt that Noah would come back. And it was in that moment Noah was glad he’d fought for the right to be here, the look on Jude’s face as he saw him saying everything he needed to know in the moment. “This your brother?” The attendant asked looking over toward Noah. And there were three or four tense seconds of breath holding where Noah thought it was all going to come rushing out of the boy. How Jude had been dead for years and when he came back to life all he had done was try to find his family so he could figure out what was happening to him, but his stupid ass brother was a jerk and ran. He ran away and left him because he was scared and just so fucking selfish. But Jude just nodded the boy having enough sense not to open that can of worms.“I didn’t realize you were still in here buddy” Noah lied coming over to sit next to him, the urge to touch almost unreal. But this wasn’t the moment for it. Not in front of an outside he had no idea what was going on “Alright well locker room is closing in half an hour so I suggest you all do you best to not get separated again” The attendant stated before realizing that Eliza had followed them into the room. “Hey lady you can’t be in here” He barked at her arms crossed.

Cahill remained rooted in his spot, watching as Noah went to sit next to Jude. There was hesitation more than anything else keeping him from stepping forward. It was clear that they had no idea what this--it--he was. Clearly he had been dead, there was no debating that. Whatever had brought him back to this spot was something that should not have been fucked with. Voicing that sort of concern was something he would do later when he was alone with Noah and Eliza. So instead he remained, silent--for now--and unmoving. Noah wanted to come, so he let Noah lead. Let him take the seat next to Jude. Let him figure out how he wanted to handle the situation. His contribution was easy. As soon as the attendant was turning around and looking at Eliza, voice raising above a gentle tone, he was leveling a glare on the man. "Don't." It was accompanied by a simple step towards the man, half in front of her and half to broaden his shoulders and give the very clear message that now was not the time. His second comment was no softer than the first. "We'll leave in a minute."

Eliza, too, had a hard time tearing her eyes off of Jude. She should have been just as awed and, she didn't know... emotionally invested? This was her family, too, and while she and Jude hadn't been that close, they'd been around each other. She started to take a step forward when the attendant rounded on her, unnecessarily rude in her opinion, but Cahill was just as quickly taking care of it, and Eliza didn't feel to raise the fur at her neck, so to speak. One ear on her alpha in case the attendant wanted to start anything, she stepped towards Noah and Jude, and squatted in front of them. "Hey. You feeling okay, Jude?" He looked fine. Great, even, and it bothered her because it didn't make sense. But if Jude remembered her, at least it would seem in character that she would ask that question first.

As he set his gaze on Cahill Noah could see the determination in the attendants manner fade, a flippant wave of his hand signalling that yea he did not get paid enough for this. “I promise we will leave in a minute like he said” Noah called to the attendants retreating back, hoping that would be enough of an apology. I mean Cahill and Eliza were lucky they never had to see the guy again. Noah on the other hand did. And you didn’t know the wrath of a locker room attendant until you go to take a shower and there are no more towels. Turning his attention back to Jude however Noah waited with baited breath for how he might answer Eliza. I mean, was he ok? Noah hadn’t even thought to ask that in his haste to get away from him “No Eliza I am not ok. Why because my brother is a butt head and left me in a locker room with stranger danger over there” Jude replied with a bite, demeanor changed from one of sadness to annoyance, and his gaze directly pointed at Noah. Feeling his heart just drop out of his chest Noah let the silence hang over for a few seconds trying to figure out how to answer that. “Sorry you just, you scared me dude” He finally and sheepishly answered looking down at his hands a fresh pang of guilt washing over him. Because he had left this, this well, he’d left his brother alone ok. And while he knew, he knew this was magic, he knew this wasn’t real there was some part that just, He couldn’t help himself. “But I promise. I won’t leave you with creepy locker room attendants any more ok” He nodded holding out his pinky for Jude, hoping the other boy would forgive him enough to remember their past rituals.

This was... a lot. Given their current positions, Cahill was more comfortable keeping a fair amount of distance from it all. Eliza had stepped forward quickly to ask Jude if he was alright and the resulting discourse was a shot at Noah about leaving him behind. He wanted to voice some sort of concern--keep your distance. Wait until we know what's happening. Don't. The result would only be to make Noah angry again, and he didn't feel like causing another argument when he could still feel the tension of their 'conversation' in the parking lot in his muscles. It was always a delicate balance when it came to giving his nephew advice, and when his mind had been made up he didn't often waver or accept outside input. So Cahill reminded silent and observed. Watching for signs of differences that should be glaring and obvious; watched as Eliza and Noah talked with Jude; listened to the sound of the attendant disappearing back down the hall somewhere. He could be the mean one that cautioned against accepting the perfect recreation of his nephew in the flesh, because if it meant protecting the family that was still alive, he'd be whatever he needed to be.

Eliza frowned. The answer was such an eleven year old thing to say, and she didn't know what she'd been hoping for. Some reason to be able to shine a light in his eyes, check his temperature, listen to his heartbeat. She, much like Cahill, had no problem being the voice that said this wasn't right, that this wasn't Jude. To be honest, though, she thought she would have to fight Cahill on it as much as she would Noah. Speaking of, he was reaching out, offering a pinky to Jude, and Eliza couldn't stop the warning tone that accompanied his name. "Noah..." There were a thousand reasons she didn't want Noah touching Jude, or anywhere near him. They didn't know enough yet, and if Noah got hurt... Jude reached out and linked pinkies, and Eliza swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She was sure that Cahill was all too aware of her heightened concern, could practically hear the beat of her heart in her ribcage. When Noah didn't instantly die or turn to stone, she forced a breath. "Hey Jude, you uh... Noah came to get me because he was worried about you, actually. Said he thought you hit your head on something... mind if I just make sure you're all right?" It was a weak lie, but she didn't know how else to get an in.

Forging on ahead Noah could feel Eliza’s uneasiness wafting off of her as his pinky met Judes. He could tell she had wanted him to stop, to not get too close before they knew what was going on, but unfortunately this was Noah. The kid who always got too close, the kid who always pushed as far as he could go, and in this was no different. Because he had to know if this was Jude. Or rather, he wanted to believe that this was his brother in the flesh, and not a trick of the light. And so far he was passing every test, the boy shaking his pinky with rigor. “Well i’d just like to point out that Noah ran out of here naked, so If anyone’s brain needs medical attention it’s probably his” Jude replied to Eliza eyes on Noah. And Noah couldn’t help but blush slightly against the kids gaze. He was never going to be able to live this down was he. “But if you want to check my head I guess you can” the little boy shrugged.

Eliza glanced at Cahill, looking for... something. She didn't know what she was looking for. Some kind of confirmation that it was okay to move forward with this, though she knew he would make it known if he wanted her to stop. She turned back to Jude. "Right. You have a point," she said with a smile and a quick glance at Noah. A pause, a breath, and she set her fingers on the inside of his wrist, pretty much holding her breath. He had a pulse. It wasn't possible, but he had a pulse. She checked his pupils, had him follow the movement on her finger, everything that would tell her if someone had their wits about them. Shapeshifter, then? She wasn't ready to believe that this was Jude. "Well, kiddo, you look good. We should... you know, are you hungry? We can go out." They needed to get out of the locker room, but she sure as hell was not offering to take him home or to Cahill's.

Holding his breath Noah kept his eyes on Eliza for any sign of abnormality that might flash across her face, but it never came. Jude was passing every test Eliza gave him, the little boy just sitting there looking bored while she poked and prodded her way around his zombie body. Letting out a breath as she finished Noah smiled at his little well [i]brother[/i] happy that this seemed to not be a trick of the light so far. “Um yea. I-” Jude paused as if he didn’t really know what to say to Eliza’s question “Can we maybe go to Luigi’s?” Jude asked looking hopefully up at Noah and then to Cahill, the pizza place being a favorite of the Kalani ‘ohana until well, you know.

Cahill half expected Eliza to give her check up and immediately tell them to get out of there, because this thing was actually dead. Somewhere, someone was either playing a cruel game with some powerful magic, or it was all an illusion. There was no way this could be Jude. But he talked with that emphasis that reminded him so much of Evan and he looked so much like Yazmin and seeing Noah sitting next to his little brother was too much. He didn't trust it, but his heart hurt with the possibility that this was what could have been. As the question was turned in Cahill's direction, he nodded slightly. "Of course." Could it tell that he wasn't excited? That he didn't trust it? Saw it as a threat? He hoped the smile that he gave was enough to convince all of them that he wasn't on edge and ready to snap. "You could even ride the bike with me if you want."

Eliza could have hugged Cahill for that suggestion, and she hoped he saw it in her face. She was already thinking ahead to the driving there, and had assumed Noah would convince this Jude imposter to hop in his truck, and it was the absolute last thing she wanted. Cahill could handle himself, but Noah was too close, to ready to believe that this was Jude and it just wasn't possible. It wasn't Jude, even with as much weird shit happened in this town, she couldn't believe it. It wasn't just coming back from the dead, it was regenerating entire organs. She glanced at Noah. "Wanna ride with me? No sense taking three vehicles."

Looking at Cahill Noah could see Jude weigh his options. He had never been one to really seek out the motorcycle before so Noah was sure he’d probably chose Eliza, and obviously drag him with. But there was always room for surprises and that exactly what the little boy did. “Three vehicles?” Jude asked looking a little quizzical until “Wait you can legally drive now!” He exclaimed jumping up and looking at Noah eyes blown wide with excitement “That’s so cool. I wanna ride with you” Jude smiled at Noah all eyes on him. And Noah would be lying if the thought of him and his little brother in his truck didn’t cross his mind. Because despite everything Noah wanted to please Jude so bad, he just wanted to fall back into that older brother role and savor every precious moment. But he was pushing it with this whole thing, and he knew it. Because while Jude may not have noticed that the adults around him were still skeptical of him Noah did. “Maybe we can all go with Eliza this time, and on the way back to come back to pick up the bike and the truck you can ride with me.” Noah replied getting up himself and placing a hand on Jude’s shoulder, eyes darting between both of the older adults looking for support. This seemed like the best compromise, and hopefully some more time with the boy would convince the older two of what Noah knew the second he saw him. This was Jude.

Cahill had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something as soon as Jude caught on to what three vehicles meant. His gaze momentarily shifting to Eliza just long enough to catch her eye before it was back to Jude and Noah. He nodded slowly, agreeing that they'd all go in Eliza's car this time even if that was the last thing he wanted. No, correction. The last thing he wanted was Jude getting into Noah's car alone with him. Not until they knew what it was and what it wanted. "Let's head out then." He was motioning towards the door and looking back towards Eliza again, hand reaching her way with an open hand for her keys.

Eliza held her breath as soon as Jude piped up, realizing her mistake. She hadn't thought of it, but then, it struck her weird that Jude didn't even question it. Like he understood what year it was, how much time had passed, and he didn't realize he hadn't been there for all of that. She was liking the situation less and less, a really bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that continued to grow. She had to force the smile at Jude, and mouthed a 'thank you' to Noah for his suggestion. It was the best compromise they could hope for currently. She relinquished her keys to Cahill without fight, without hesitation, and fell to the rear of the group again. Seating was another issue... she didn't want the boys in the backseat with each other. She wanted some distance between them, but she had a feeling that was a battle she was going to lose. It wasn't as important as the one she'd just won, though, so she would have to take it.

Getting up Noah followed the rest of them out of the locker room, half his attention on Jude and half of his attention on the awkwardness that hung in the air around them. Because he knew this was Jude, that much was evident, but why? Why now? Why just Jude? Or were there others? And just, there were so many unanswered questions the Noah’s mind was racing. But of course it was then that Jude decided to shatter it all to bits a loud “SHOTGUN” erupting as soon as they were in sight of the black top. “Dude you don’t even know what car it is, that’s against the rules” Noah replied unable to hold back a small chuckle at the thought of poor little Jude racing down the aisles yelling at every car till he found the right one. “Well” Jude put his hands on his hips “Rules state you just have to see the car, and I assume since we are in the parking lot it is around here somewhere.” He stuck out his tongue at his brother, and Noah just rolled his eyes.

Cahill's eyes shifted back towards Jude as it all but exploded out of the building and yelled for shotgun. As much as he hated this situation, he appreciated Jude's eagerness to be in the front. It put them closest together and him most ready in case something happened. He didn't know if this was some creature impersonating Jude; someone that had spent too much time researching them and their family, or if it was his body brought back to life. Completely healed? None of it made sense, and the mere fact that were about to spend an afternoon with it set him a bit off balance. What happened when they needed to go home and had to take it with? Spend however much time with it? He couldn't kill it in front of Noah, even if it wasn't his brother, he already seemed somewhat invested. Motioning towards the car, he gave a small smile that was far from genuine. "Over there. You can go ahead and sit in front, Jude." It felt wrong, saying his name, and as soon as he had he was looking back towards the car to hide the slight expression of disapproval.

Eliza felt more relief in the moment Jude claimed shotgun than she had in possibly her entire life. She didn't trust this at all, but she saw Noah and she saw that Noah trusted what was happening. Of the three of them, he was the most positive and optimistic. It didn't matter, though... he was wrong. She had no plan outside of this. They would go get lunch... and then what? As the doors unlocked, she took a steady breath, letting Jude and Noah both get in, and then locking eyes with Cahill. Finally, she was the last to get in.

#touchofpotw #touchofchatzy #chatzy #c: hey jude #cahillkalani #drelizalabaton #jude kalani #tw: death #tw: death menton #potw: grave mistake

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sword-and-quill · 7 years

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@cuntharidin said: This was a delighting piece of bedtime literature, absolutely! Can I say that I was especially excited to finally, finally, /finally/ have the pleasure of meeting Allan? I mean, I’m obviously thrilled to witness the whole band of loners assembling, but having had the opportunity to watch him interact as Tremere DID somehow raise my expectations to meet him in his “original” manifestation as a …warlock.

Thank you very much! :) It was a pleasure to introduce him and I hope he lived up to expectations! I’m really excited to get everyone together in the same space and working as a team.

(And I’m infinitely happy Booker survived – not just from the “avoid the trope” aspect, but I also think the narrative profits. The whole ‘must find new social radius because everyone else is dead’ is quite prevalent in young adult fiction, and, y'know, especially since this is all about finding people to trust after experiencing betrayal/some sort of abuse. From my own experience getting away/cutting ties is extremely emotionally straining, especially if people stay back that you liked and who didn’t do anything wrong – and Booker really isn’t a bad guy – but sometimes you gotta leave these behind as well, even though I’m not sure what’s going on with him in the story. I’m not quite sure how to phrase it, yet I always felt the whole “everyone died, tabula rasa” situation oversimplifies extremely and doesn’t answer the “Can I still go and leave people behind that didn’t do me wrong? Or that are somehow dependent on me? Is that a reason to stay?” question. Does that make sense?)

It makes a lot of sense! I’m really happy I finalized the change as well, for several reasons. I think you’re right, I really think you’ve hit on a lot of elements where the death was... well, I don’t want to get too down on myself, but it was a lazy / inexperienced decision that was easy to make when I was 16 and working within the standard tropes of the genre, but definitely needed to be revised.

I think the necessary core impact of separating from Booker - the result that I need to accomplish, in a meta sense - is generating the freedom for Mara to grow. To sift through, synthesize, adopt and/or possibly reject lessons she learned from him and the other authority figures she’s left behind. Her parents, who loved her dearly but with whom she felt she couldn’t be entirely honest. Booker, with whom she could be entirely honest but didn’t always agree. And Thein, who offered a haven of ‘honesty’ and agreeableness, but was ultimately using those as tools to control her.

Which brings me to the question – in how far do warlocks and mages differ? Is it a specific nomenclature within Mara’s universe, or did you chose to adapt the classification for example D&D proposes? It seems to be a thing in high fantasy to separate these supernatural professions, but I have no idea; Z already indicates that the warlock’s interests are of “cosmic” nature and she seems a tad more earthed with her, well, stones. Quite casual about it, too: I believed these phenomenons belong to a “secret society”/beyond convention masquerade not unlike the WoD, but apparently it’s common knowledge and can be discussed openly? After all, Grey’s are public presences as well.

It is a distinction in their magical styles, yes! Though the nomenclature may change. Mage and Warlock are alright as catch-all magical labels, but... they don’t have the right oomph yet. I struggle with naming, at times, I still have half of the Antehex tiers to finalize! Anyway, the main difference is their approach to magic. Allan’s style strongly prefers that you put rules on the spells you cast. You have to build the tunnel through which you wish your magic to travel to the intended result. Zory’s style treats magic with a great deal more trust and personal development. They’re more willworkers than architects and they get a lot of fulfillment out of watching the unique ways magic manifests with their personal touch. “Practitioner” is the catch-all term for people who use magic in this ‘verse.

They’re both practitioners and magical abilities aren’t limited by the style you prefer; in a lot of ways, I’m treating magic ‘in universe’ as art! People have their own distinct styles, some people treat it as a formal school and climb to the peak gladly accepting the lessons of those who came before, some people accomplish fantastic results simply by practicing on their own, and some people do magic in truly bizarre and unexpected ways. Some people have all kinds of classifications and distinctions and genres, while others just see it as one big umbrella. For some people it’s a career, for some it’s part of their identity, and for some it’s just a hobby. What you get out of magic depends strongly on what you put into it.

Now, as to the casual nature of it, I may need to put some additional effort into refining how it’s brought up in this scene. Because yeah, there is that thin veil of pseudo-secrecy, for sure, even if it’s far more permeable and permissive than the Masquerade! I actually based this on how casually my Wiccan and Pagan buds discuss their own practices, buuuuut... I think you’re right, giving it another readthrough with your feedback, I think the initial dialogue does end up being too explicit for the balance I need to hit. They can still have much the same conversation without necessarily tipping their hand to a stranger about how much magic is involved. I’ll work that into my revisions, much appreciated!

In fact, I’ve given it a quick once-over that I think should help! She should come across as a more traditional spiritualist now, until Mara tips her hand that she knows about magic and then they can open up the discussion.

Anyways! I really do love that you chose to invest quite a significant of words into the descriptive part, here; it’s just so very vivid and evokes a wonderful atmosphere and aesthetic to place the newcomers in – one fleeing from it, apparently, despite being versed in maneuvering the field; I’m generally very inclined to dialogue and I wholly enjoyed the character’s exchanges!

That’s delightful to hear, I appreciate it!! I thought mood and setting would be particularly important for this; how Allan treats his environment is as much a part of his character as his words and body language, so I wanted to be sure readers have clarity about him.

Another element that stood out was your choice to let A cry. I was a bit surprised, in fact – which is, I realize, all me, and pointing it out might reveal more about me than about your particular choice. Still, stroke me as positively remarkable, also gives a nice perspective on how significant the solitude and even loneliness which A’s paranoia necessitates might influence him?

!! It wasn’t a decision I made casually, but I... think it’s impactful, both thematically and in terms of character development.

Allan is dealing with a lot. He’s been profoundly disturbed by his experiences, he’s not always coping in the best ways, and he’s having a difficult time not taking it personally that his best friend decided to move out. Certainly he would have preferred not to show vulnerability with a stranger nearby, but... he’s only human and he’s hurting. His social support structures are practically nonexistent due to his isolation and losing a housemate compounds that.

So much of society demands that we put on a cheerful face, move along, pretend everything is alright and sweep everything unpleasant under the rug. A huge part of what bonds this group together is going to be that they can’t pretend everything is okay. They know things aren’t okay, they desperately need to address the fact that things aren’t okay, and none of them truly want to be alone yet they’ve ended up on their own all the same. If I do my job right, the story will make it apparent that they’re all facing extremely similar pain from different angles for different reasons. Sometimes they’ll be able to help each other. Sometimes they won’t. But they’ll always be nose-to-nose with that same kernel, that question of “What do I do?”, trying to answer it in different ways.

I don’t know, I just- Allan deserves the same space to express that pain as everybody else. He has a right to not be okay and to admit that it sucks. I want the story to have compassion and nuance for him and everyone else and I sort of feel like giving the characters that kind of emotional space contributes to that goal. At least, I hope it does.

I don’t want to bother you with an all too extensive comment, so I’ll speed up a little: The state of the house seems very curious – at first I thought he might be a compulsive horder, but he faces no troubles eliminating the dishes, so that’s not it! I wonder what’s the story behind all of this! Additionally I can’t but wonder how Booker and he met!

I can see why you’d think so! He’s not a hoarder, though, just struggles to get out of his own head to deal with real world concerns. It’s not easy to summon up enough focus to clean the house when it feels like the world could end at any moment and the next ritual is far more important anyway. I think that bit of characterization will become more clear as more context and interactions are given.

And you will get to find out how he and Booker met, in the story!! A tiny tidbit, though, he was friends with both Booker and Jackson, so they go back several years!

I might not be qualified to comment on it, though you introduce Zory with the formulation of “tall black woman” and while you describe Allan with the adjective “pale”, you don’t explicitly mention that he is white yet explicitly state that she’s black. I read some guides that say this is an imbalance to be avoided when introducing characters of color! Like I said, I’m not sure, I just stumbled over it.

aaahhhhh, I thought I’d been thorough! Thank you for pointing it out, you are absolutely right to do so! I received some feedback on an earlier section that I didn’t go into enough detail on how characters looked, which resulted in assumptions that everyone was white. And given that a lot of the characters aren’t, I’ve been trying to compensate and make sure everyone’s ethnicity is clearly stated and I missed Allan. Thank you! I’ve fixed that as well. Now we are like... draft 1.3 instead of draft 1.0. That much closer to the second draft!! Haha

I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING THIS. I was disappointed when it ended. WHATS NEXT. lmao too long

!!!!! I’m really glad you had fun! And I super appreciate that you took the time to read it and leave me your thoughts. Reactions, opinions, what you liked/hated/noticed feedback, little error catches - all of these are incredibly valuable to me and they help raise the overall quality of the work itself and make me aware of where I may need to pay more attention, so seriously: thank you! You rock. :)

#cuntharidin

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