#but if it was for himself he should paint em again! they looked so good

[gurenmonster]

Would give anything to see Damien with his nails painted again 😔

[ckret2]

Chapter 12 of Everybody Hates Having Human Bill Cipher As Their Prisoner, featuring: Pacifica doing beauty product commercials!

And she said "Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula" twice with a straight face. Also featuring: Mabel making the terrible decision that perhaps there's a sliver of hope for Bill.

####

Bill trudged into the living room doorway and said flatly, "Help." His gold paint/makeup/glitter had been scraped off his right cheek, leaving a swathe of bare skin; and one corner of his cardboard triangle mask had crumpled in.

Dipper and Mabel looked up from the TV. (They were watching a cartoon about an aggressively adorable anthropomorphic lion and wolf arguing over a rapidly-wilting flower.) Dipper took one look at Bill's damage and struggled to swallow down a laugh. Mabel grimaced. "Oooh. What happened?"

"The stairs. Again."

Dipper asked, "Have you tried sitting on the steps and scooting your butt down one step at a time? I think that's how toddlers do it." Mabel snorted and elbowed him. 

Bill leaned over Dipper, grin disconcertingly widely. The sofa hadn't had seat cushions since Bill dragged them upstairs to serve as his makeshift bed, which just let Bill tower even higher over Dipper. "As a matter of fact, I have tried! It's too slow. I'd rather just fall." Now that Dipper was cringing back sufficiently for Bill's tastes, he turned the creepiness down a good 50% and refocused on Mabel. "So can you help?"

She sighed. "Yeah, come here."

Dipper slid off the sofa. "I'm... gonna go read something." He gestured at the screen. "This is one of Mabel's shows, anyway."

Bill glanced at the screen. The lion and wolf had just declared they didn't want to be friends anymore, and the flower between them promptly died. A watching unicorn shed a heart-shaped tear. Dryly, Bill said, "I'd never have guessed."

Mabel frowned at Dipper as he left—traitor—but Bill was quick to plop down on the spot he'd freed. "Here." He dumped an armload of tape and makeup on top of the folded sofa bed between them. "You've seen this episode before, right? You're not missing anything."

"Uh..." Mabel pulled off a strip of tape. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Because this show looks about thirty years old."

"Oh. Ha! Yeah. Color Critters is a classic." All the same, she kept glancing over at the screen between strips of tape. (The unicorn was struggling to revive the flower with a beam of green light from her horn, and, when that didn't work, trying to convince the lion and wolf to apologize to each other.)

Not doing anything useful himself, Bill watched the cartoon out of the corner of his eye, too. "If their argument is killing the flowers, wouldn't Hornton here have better success if she kicked 'em out of her garden?"

"Her name's not Hornton, it's Glory. And then they'd just kill flowers somewhere else."

"She could slit one of their throats," Bill suggested. "It takes two people to argue."

Mabel couldn't tell if he was deliberately saying the most offensive thing he could think of, or if the way the Color Critters' narrative established a subtle metaphorical correlation between flourishing friendship and flourishing flowers had sailed right over his head. So she elected to ignore his comment and said, somewhat peevishly,  "You really should start doing your own repairs, you know."

"I tried. How do you think this happened?" He pointed at the patch of missing makeup that had rubbed off his cheek. "Do you know how hard it is to repair your own face when you need to ask permission to use a mirror? I tried to get a spoon to use as a mirror—and then remembered I'm not allowed to use anything but the plastic baby spoons."

Mabel winced. "Oooh. Yeah. That's right." She supposed she couldn't resent him for asking for help. He'd done his due diligence. In his shoes, she probably wouldn't have even thought to use a spoon as a mirror.

Bill leaned forward, elbows on his knees, making it easier for Mabel to reach the damage. "So then I tried to use the glass on one of the family photos in the hall," he went on. "You can't imagine what it's like to try to tape your own face back together while the guys who imprisoned you are grinning at you through your 'mirror.' I'm living in worst conditions than death row inmates. At least they get mirrors."

"You've had such a hard time;" Mabel said sympathetically, then caught herself. "I mean—you deserve a hard time—but even then, you should at least have your own face."

"I'm glad you think so. I think everyone else here would rather keep kicking me while I'm down just to listen to me squeal."

Mabel grimaced, but couldn't honestly say he was wrong. She leaned back, inspecting her tape work. "Okay, that's the best I can do with your mask for now. I'll replace the torn part when we find some more cardboard boxes." It was amazing how quickly a household could run out of cardboard when you had a very clumsy prisoner using it as a substitute for his face.

"We're out of yellow paint, too," Bill said. "We'll have to fill in the gap with extra eyeshadow, I guess."

Mabel sighed, but picked up a makeup brush and started covering up the streaky patch on Bill's cheek. Color Critters had gone to commercial break with Glory running off to get fairy backup, and now that local anti-graffiti PSA that made graffiti look really cool was playing. Maybe if Mabel hurried, she could finish with Bill before the commercials ended and Glory got back with Prisma. (And maybe she could lure Dipper back downstairs. She thought he'd like Glory and Prisma's battle against Serpent Grey, it was how she'd wheedled him into watching this episode in the first place.)

"This eyeshadow palette won't last much longer," Mabel said. They'd already completely used up the best, yellowest shade of gold, and the other three weren't far behind. "And we're really burning through my allowance fast. No offense, Bill, but—I don't think this is a long-term solution." She inwardly braced herself, not sure what kind of reaction to expect out of him.

Bill's expression twisted in a grimace, and Mabel's stomach flipped. He said, "I hate to admit it, but I've been having the same thought."

Mabel quietly sighed in relief.

"Don't get me wrong—the visual results are phenomenal. Stunning! But the upkeep is very high maintenance, the tape is itchy enough it even distracts me, it cuts off my peripheral vision, it muffles sounds, it's hard to sleep and impossible to shower—"

"You haven't been taking it off when you sleep?"

Bill tipped his head back and pointed at the neck hole, big enough for his neck but not for his head. "You didn't design it to be taken off."

"Oh." She supposed she hadn't. No wonder he had a hard time fixing it himself.

"And besides all that, once the initial fun wears off—let's be frank, it's pretty grotesque-looking, isn't it?"

"WHAT? It's not grotesque, it's beautiful! I thought you liked it!"

"Whoa there, Shooting Star, it's not anything you did! It's everything else." He gestured at his body from the neck down.

Mabel gave the rest of Bill a dubious look. "What's wrong with... everything else?"

"Well—" Bill hesitated, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Think of it this way. Imagine you've been turned into a hypersphere—"

"What's a hypersphere?"

Bill paused again, found the English language woefully deficient of vocabulary to describe fourth-dimensional creatures, and said, "Imagine you've been turned into a giraffe."

"Okay." Sounded cool. Mabel visualized herself as a pink giraffe with star-shaped spots.

"And someone helps you look human again—by transforming your giraffe head into a human body. Just your head. And it's still attached to the giraffe neck by the butt."

Mabel snorted.

"And it's got no arms and legs," Bill added. "And if you look closely, you can still see that the human body is made out of a giraffe head. Its eyes and nostrils are visible through the skin of your torso."

"Ew." Mabel shuddered. But... she hadn't really considered what looking human must feel like to a person who had never been human. In some way, she'd always thought of Bill Cipher as essentially faceless. Like he was a symbol with an eyeball. Turning human just meant gaining something new he'd never had before. He had more face now.

But that wasn't how it looked to him, was it? Mabel should have realized that earlier, when he first said that all he wanted was to look like a triangle again. From his perspective, he hadn't gained a new face; he'd just had his real face mutilated with a bunch of lumps and holes that shouldn't be there.

Considered like that... the mask really was grotesque, wasn't it? "Yeah, I get the problem," Mabel said, subdued. "If you want, I could add pipe cleaner arms and legs—but that doesn't fix the real problem, does it?"

"Unfortunately, no. And they'd probably end up like my hat." Bill's construction paper top hat had been the fastest casualty of his clumsiness. "But I like that creative thinking! You're a problem-solver."

Problem-solver. Mabel supposed she was, wasn't she? She plopped her chin in her hand, trying to think of another way to solve this problem.

Bill almost copied the gesture, but realized just in time that would crush the cardboard over his chin and straightened up. He sighed. "As much as it sickens me, maybe you were on to something with the wig idea. I don't like it. It's ugly. But at least when I had hair, it got me vaguely the right silhouette," he made that finger triangle in front of one eye, "without all the upkeep. I think I underestimated how much low maintenance wins out over high fashion."

"Do you want a wig?" Mabel asked warily. They could have saved a lot of effort and allowance money if he'd just accepted her offer of a wig in the first place. 

Bill turned over the question for several seconds, then sighed again. "No, I guess not. I'd have to keep taking it off and on to clean it." He shuddered, then quickly gripped his upper arm, as if he hadn't given his body permission to shudder and he needed to intimidate it out of any further misbehavior. "I'll just wait for the original stuff to grow back out. Maybe save the gold make-up for special occasions."

(Mabel wondered how many special occasions Bill expected to have before Ford figured out a way to kill him, and then wondered how much his hair would have a chance to grow out by then. And then she decided not to wonder about that anymore.)

"Not sure what I'll do in the meantime," Bill muttered. Mabel caught his gaze flicking past her, over her shoulder; he was looking at the spot on the wall where Soos's zodiac blanket used to hang. (Soos had hidden it in his bedroom after Mabel had reclaimed it from Bill.) "But, hey! Good effort, kid. I was impressed by the results—and I don't say that lightly! I think we made some real progress with this." Bill flashed Mabel a smile—too wide, as usual, but this time she thought there was something genuine in it.

Which made her feel all the worse that she'd only "made progress" but hadn't found a solution. "Are there any ways to make your hair grow back faster?"

"There's always lycanthropy. Induce it now and cure it after the next full moon—"

"Thaaat doesn't sound very safe."

"Well, I'd be fine." Bill laughed.

Mabel blew a raspberry at him. "Maybe we could just make you a sturdier mask out of plastic?" she ventured.  "Or—or we could tattoo a pyramid on your face..."

Bill looked intrigued. "Keep talking."

From the TV, a familiar voice said, "Hey, everyone."

Mabel's head swiveled toward the TV—and sure enough. "Pacifica?"

Pacifica was positioning herself on a stool in a blank white studio, wearing the world's preppiest polo and a matching designer skirt. A small, stylish bottle of faceted green glass sat on a second stool. Bold text at the bottom of the screen read "REAL FOOTAGE - NOT A DRAMATIZATION." Lacing her hands casually over her crossed knees, Pacifica said, "You all know me—Pacifica Northwest, famous for being richer and better than you." She flashed a perfect smile.

"Alpaca's doing commercials now?" Bill said. "She's moving down in the world, good for her."

"Wh—? She's not 'alpaca,' it was a llama."

"No it's not."

"I think I'd know," Mabel said. "It was my sweater."

"And it's my zodiac, Shooting Star."

They shushed as a man wearing a suit that probably cost more than Mabel's entire sweater collection came up behind Pacifica with a pair of scissors, and started cutting her hair. Mabel gasped as Pacifica's beautiful blonde hair was reduced to an inch long. Pacifica didn't even look at the callous hair-slasher as she went on, "Ever since my parents lost most but not all of our family fortune, I've had to support my designer purse habit by selling my hair to underprivileged A-list celebrities who need Nordic blonde virgin hair wigs for blockbuster movie roles." She aimed a perfectly-practiced pout at the camera, lower lip pooched out and eyes large and watery. The faux angst lasted for barely a second before she went on, "But luckily, now I don't have to compromise my beautiful looks!"

Another extra in a luxury brand hazmat suit picked up the little green bottle, tipped a few drops into a gloved hand, and worked it into the ends of Pacifica's freshly-cut hair. "Thanks to Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula—a trusted hair-restoration brand for over a hundred and fifty years—I can look my best at all times!" She flipped her long, luxurious curtain of hair with one hand, showing off how it now, once more, hung as low as the seat of her stool. "Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula: for when you have a million bucks, and you want to look like it too." She winked, and an old-fashioned cursive logo reading "Hairy Fairy" filled the screen.

Mabel gaped at the screen. "Yeah, no, okay, that's gotta be fake. There's no way that's real. They must have done some kind of... weird camera tricks. Right?"

"Hairy Fairy's back?" Bill asked, and he sounded kind of impressed. He laughed. "Wow! Usually I have to pull some strings to arrange a contrived coincidence like that, but that fell right into our laps, didn't it!"

If Bill had heard of this brand... "Wait. Is this stuff like... actually magic?"

"There's no such thing as magic," said Bill, the magic triangle who'd magically come back to life in the magic-riddled town of Gravity "Magic Is Our Middle Name" Falls. "But yeah, it works!"

"Nuh-uh, no way. If it can really grow hair, how come I've never heard of it before?"

"Because they went out of business," Bill said. "The original formula was invented a century and change ago by Harold 'Harry' Haroldson, after he was run out of California for selling rotgut as a diet tonic. It did cause people to lose weight, but only because it literally rotted their guts. Hairy Fairy Formula's basically the same—it does exactly what it advertises, as long as you don't mind the side effects—buuut after getting really rich, really fast, Harry couldn't keep up with orders. He'd run out of pixie dust. Local population went extinct. So they haven't been on the market since the 1800s."

Mabel processed that. "Bill, how is pixie dust made?"

"Don't worry about it!" Bill waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, by the looks of it, somebody with the formula found a fresh supply of their active ingredient! Isn't that... handy."

Against the side of her face, Mabel felt the full weight of the one-eyed gaze that had ravaged millions of minds and compelled thousands of humanity's best and brightest to erect interdimensional doorways to their own doom.

Mabel swallowed hard.

And Bill said, "You and Alpaca are friends, right?"

####

Dipper said, "You want to ask Pacifica what for who?"

"I know it's stupid," Mabel said, and wasn't encouraged by how enthusiastically Dipper nodded. "But—look. Until Grunkle Ford figures out how to get rid of him, we're stuck with him anyway! Him being miserable just makes the whole shack miserable. Even death row prisoners have rights! This is America!"

"He's not American."

"His species probably has prisoner rights."

"What if getting his self-esteem back makes him go back to trying to kill us all?" Dipper asked. 

"It won't! Feeling good about yourself makes you nicer!" Mabel said. "Insecurity is the root of all bullying."

"Bill's a whole lot worse than a bully."

"That just makes him a jumbo bully."

"Fine. But he wasn't exactly nice back when he did like his body."

"O—okay, fair point. But."

But she still saw a sad ghost curled up beneath a blanket in the corner of the attic and remembered picture day.

Mabel paced a figure 8 at the foots of their beds. "Look, he was normal-miserable a few days ago, but he turned hyper-miserable when he cut off his hair. If I get him his hair back, he can go back to being normal-miserable, and he's said he's willing to put up with that, so it's not my problem anymore! I can be done with it."

"You know he's just using you because you're being nice to him, right?"

Mabel shrugged. "I mean, yeah? Duh? He's evil, that's what he does? The fact that he's being evil doesn't mean I'm gonna not do something good."

"But if you give him what he wants this time, you'll just train him to think you'll do anything he wants if he gets sulky about it. It'll make him worse."

Mabel stopped pacing to stare at Dipper. "Do you think Bill can be trained? Bill?"

Dipper actually paused to consider that, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I mean... yeah, I guess, maybe?"

Mabel considered that as well. "I don't know." She resumed pacing. "I... still kinda feel like I should take that chance?"

"Really? What did he say to you?"

"Nothing! Nothing. It's just..."

####

Mabel swallowed hard, staring up at Bill's white-hot, commanding eye. "I'm not doing anything until after this episode," she said.

"And then—?"

"I'll think about it."

Satisfied, Bill nodded. "All right!" Apparently not as satisfied as she'd assumed, he added, "But I'm telling you, that would immediately solve the whole problem. If you wanna get me out of your hair, pun unintended—"

"Nope!" Mabel held a finger over her lips. "Shush time. You don't get to use your con artist mind tricks on me."

Bill planted an offended hand on his hip. "'Con artist mind tricks'?"

"If you bring it up once before this episode is over, I won't even consider doing it. Don't test me!"

"All right, all right! Sheesh." Bill sat back on the sofa, criss-crossed his legs, and got comfortable. Was he planning to watch the episode with her?

He gestured at the screen as a heart-shaped rainbow announced that the show was back. "Okay, so catch me up on the plot." He was planning to watch the episode. So much for getting Dipper back in here. But, hey, as long as somebody was interested in the show...

By the time she'd explained that Leo Proud is in charge of life and playing and the color red—which are basically the same thing—and that Howell Wolf is in charge of creativity and stories, and also he's a wizard, which is why he's blue, which he's also in charge of, naturally—and that usually they're best friends, except Serpent Grey has tricked them into fighting, to kill the flower garden, because friendship is green, obviously—

(Bill nodded along, "Obviously.")

—and if the flowers don't bloom by the spring festival, it will basically mean the end of love and friendship everywhere, which is why Glory the Unicorn—

("What's she in charge of?" "Pink." "Big responsibility.")

—is going to look for Prisma, the Rainbow Fairy, who basically solves all the problems in the color jungle—

(Bill asked, "So who the heck's responsible for green in this organization? Isn't this their department? Why aren't theydealing with this crisis?")

—and Mabel had to pause to explain how busy Love Bunny is on the other side of the jungle with festival preparations which was why she asked Leo and Howell to help out in the first place...

Anyway, by the time she explained all that, Prisma and Glory were already back, and Prisma had spotted Serpent and was trying to chase him out with her rainbow light while Glory protected Leo and Howell, and Mabel thought it really was a very good action sequence, especially considering the show's age and budget, if you ignored the animation errors, but she hadn't had any time to explain Prisma's magic or Glory's role in it, which was a big theme in the show; but...

But even so, by the time of the fight scene, Bill was leaning forward, elbows on knees, creepy grin and intense gaze pointed at the screen—like he was actually paying attention to the cacophony of multicolor lasers. Like he was enjoying it.

Mabel was so surprised when he started laughing and heckling the characters like he was watching a wrestling match—"Yeah, get him! Skin him alive and tie him in knots! I wanna see if he bleeds grey!"—that it took her a moment to register that he was rooting for Prisma. The Rainbow Fairy. Defender of colors and all the goodness and happiness that spawned from them. Not the snake trying to destroy all those things. The good guy.

That didn't make Bill good. Mabel knew people far better than Bill who liked to root for the bad guys. But even so—all the same—she hadn't expected it.

With Serpent defeated, Leo and Howell reconciled, the garden flourishing, and the existence of friendship secured for another year, Bill sat back and said, "Quirky little cosmology they've thought up for this fantasy! And it's a better primer on sympathetic magic than I would've expected out of something aimed at humans who haven't learned to read yet. Especially considering what was going on in the eighties!"

Mabel had no idea what he was talking about. "Do you... like it?"

"I like the colors in the battle scene," Bill said. "This'd be fun to watch on peyote."

It was, Mabel conceded, the most positive response she'd received from anybody she'd shown Color Critters to. 

"But I get now why killing the lion and wolf to save the garden wasn't an option," he added.

"Wait—you do?"

"Sure!" Bill gestured at the running credits. "This show operates on dream logic."

Mabel nodded. Mabel shook her head. "What?"

"The garden isn't real. None of this is real. The only thing that exists in this world is emotions and experiences. Fun, hatred, friendship, resentment, fear, justice—all of those are real, but they're abstract. Anything you can touch is just an illusion, the subconscious mind's metaphor for the things too abstract to see." Bill spoke with the authoritative confidence of a practiced carny explaining to his new assistant how the carnival games were rigged so customers could never win a grand prize without spending twice what the prize was worth. "The issue was never 'They're fighting, so the flowers are dying.' The flowers don't exist! They're just a tool to let you see what's going on in the other guys' heads. 'Save the flowers' is a metaphor for the only thing that really matters: saving the friendship."

Bill turned toward Mabel, the expert on dream logic checking in with the expert on Color Critters, and said, "So killing one of them would defeat the point! Right?"

He clearly thought he was just talking about the themes in a cartoon. He had no idea he'd just said the sappiest thing about friendship Mabel had ever heard a real person say.

####

"I... don't think he's all evil," Mabel said to Dipper. "He's still 99% evil! But there's one percent that still understands normal things. What if I can encourage it! Maybe we can get it to two percent. Maybe five!"

"Whoa. Oh no. Hold on. Tell me you're not trying to rehabilitate Bill Cipher."

"No! Of course not," said Mabel, so confidently that it almost sounded like she really meant it and hadn't already set her heart on reforming the most reviled figure in the multiverse.

And knowing Mabel well enough to know she'd already made up her mind, Dipper went on, "Mabel, we're talking about the worst person ever! He tried to destroy our entire universe, and Grunkle Ford says he's destroyed at least one other. He's been way too evil for way too long to change now."

"You're the one who said it might be possible to train him," Mabel pointed out. "That's what I'm talking about doing! Forget the good-and-evil stuff: think of it as... as a psychology experiment! If we're nice to him, will he be a little nicer back? Why not try—as long as we don't do anything dangerous?"

Dipper's resolve wavered. He looked away from Mabel's hopeful face, gaze skimming the room for something else to look at—and fell on Bartholomew. The doll had teleported onto Mabel's bed while they weren't paying attention. When they'd first gotten him out of the crane game, he'd hid in the shack's air conditioning vents and tried to murder them so he could take over their lives. He hadn't stopped trying to kill them until Mabel suggested he join their lives and offered to make him a cradle to sleep in. Now, he was peacefully cuddled up with a tie-dye plushie alien Mabel had bought in Roswell. 

"Okay, fine—as long as we're not helping him do anything dangerous," Dipper said. "And if we're doing an experiment, I'm in the control group. I won't pretend to be nice to him."

A grin broke out across Mabel's face. "I'll text Pacifica!"

####

The door to Ford's study creaked open. "Hey, Grunkle Ford?"

Ford looked up from his calculations-covered desk. "Dipper! Yes?"

"Quick question," Dipper said. "To your knowledge, if Bill's hair grows back, is there any possible way he could use it to... I don't know, kill us all or end the world or something?"

Ford stared at Dipper. He blinked. "Er—short of shaving it back off and braiding it into a rope to strangle us? Not that I'm aware of." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And I imagine it would be a lot easier to just rip a curtain to shreds and make that a rope." Maybe he should hide the curtains?

Dipper nodded. "Okay. Great. Follow-up question: have you ever heard of a brand called 'Hairy Fairy'?"

"Wh—you mean the hair tonic invented by Harold Haroldson? The one behind the Oregon Pixie Extinction of 1891?"

"The... what?"

Ford stood, rummaging through several books on a nearby bookcase. "It was a short-lived brand. I found some mentions of it in the Gravity Falls Library back when I was researching the history of the town—ah!" He pulled out an old binder he'd stuffed with copies of unusual newspaper clippings from the town's historical archives, and flipped through them until he found an advertisement for Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula. "Here."

Dipper accepted the advertisement and skimmed it. "It says 'for best results, do not apply directly to skin.' Is there anything dangerous about this stuff? Does it melt your face off, or...?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. Information on Hairy Fairy is sparse, considering the lengths the company went to to keep its main ingredient a secret. I've never even seen a surviving sample."

Dipper nodded. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford." He shut the study door. After a moment, Ford heard the elevator rising.

He shot a dark look toward the ceiling and muttered, "What are you up to this time?"

####

MABEL: Heyyyy Pacifica it's Mabel! 🌈🌟 I saw your commercial! You were sooo great! That thing about actors was REALLY funny lol

MABEL: So ANYWAY how does somebody get their hands on that hairy fairy stuff??? 👀

PACIFICA: Oh cool, I didn't know they were airing the commercial in Gravity Falls. I thought market research decided it was too poor to be worth the air time?

PACIFICA: No offense

MABEL: I'll pretend not to be offended!

PACIFICA: You totally can't afford it though lmao. It costs like $10k for 3 oz.

MABEL: 🙀

PACIFICA: But like if you want to LOOK at it, HF will have a booth at the country club tomorrow. I'm their model for the demonstration, so I could get you and Dipper in if you promise not to wear anything embarrassing.

MABEL: Do they have free samples?

PACIFICA: 😂😂😂 No

PACIFICA: But maybe smelling the fumes will give you shinier hair or something idk.

MABEL: Worth a shot!!! See you there!

[arcade-writing]

Little lamb

NSFW 🍋

Pairing: Bob Velseb x trans male! Reader

Warning: penetrative sex, pet names, some objectification (calling you a Fleshlight), feederism themes, size kink, cream pie, light bondage, brief semi public, sex in a meat locker, before Bob went to jail, probably ooc, minor cum inflation, belly bulge, fem and masc terms of readers bits, degradation, hints to cannibalism, minor knife play, Marking kink, oral, fingering, minor spanking, spit/drool kink

...... don't look at me......I don't need to explain myself .....

You were finding yourself visiting Boys and Grill's more often; it wasn't anyplace too special. Just a simple dinner with lights that always fuzzed and flickered and the same classic 19's hits playing over and over again. But there was something that did give this place it's charm - Bob Velseb. The grill and cook of this simple dinner.

To be fair if I wasn't for him you doubt you'd come here so often. After all everything always tasted vaguely like pork even the burgers and the fries weren't even that good. Bob made it worth while - always finding time to make pleasant conversation even if it was often brief. You'd try to come in near the end of his shift to see him more; he always worked the latest out of everyone. It worked with your own schedule so it was great!

But lately he's been starting a habit with your orders-

"Here you go, one Big boy burger and your grilltastic fries." The waiter forced enthusiasm as he played your order down. A large milkshake soon placed after.

"I didn't order this-"

"Bob says it's on the house."

That made your lips seal shut, a soft blush painting your cheeks. This is what you meant. Giving you free food or drinks - always coming over when the place started to die down to make sure your plates were empty. You've gotten in the habit of not eating lunch just to make sure you could; everything was stupidly sized and their milkshakes more so. Thick and full of flavour but filling all by themselves.

You remembered the countless times he sat with you whilst you ate, encouraging you to take another bite when you felt full. He said it was just to make sure, after all it's a shame to waste his efforts. It made you squirm the more you thought about it; happy tbe poor waiter was already gone when you finally escaped your thoughts.

Mindlessly chewing your food as you glanced over to the kitchen window. Able to spot the very man you were being plagued by walking past. Carrying a large bag over his shoulder as he hummed a tune to himself. Just able to see he was wearing a tank top under his apron. It hugged his figure tight showing off the handsome curves of his body. Your heart rate spiked at the sight and you immediately refocused on your food. Suddenly, your phone was the most interesting thing on earth and you distracted yourself by scrolling through the web.

"Enjoyed ya meal, sugar?" A familiar deep voice snapped you away from your phone. Looking up to see Bob wiping his hands with stained rag.

Your eyes flickered around you to see the place was empty. The lights weren't all on and the music was now a soft melody in the background.

"Just the two of us, told the boys I'd lock up for 'em, you don't mind that, do ya?"

"Oh-! No-! I don't mind, should I wait by the door?" You began to stand up. Even now he was towering over you. You pocketed your phone as you gestured to the door.

"You'd do me a real favor if ya helped, speed things along."

"Sure! But I can't say I'll be much help, I'll do my best though!"

He sent you a wide grin as he picked up your plate and cup before trudging to the back. You hesitantly followed as you fiddled with your shirt. He handed you your stuff and explained he just needs to check the back. You offered to do what's left of the cleaning since that'll be easy.

Washing plates didn't distract you from your thumping heart as much as you hoped it would. Alone with Bob? Usually he'd walk yo to the bus stop but other than that, you two have never really been alone. Not truely. Not like this.

Curse this damn summer heat! Making it so hot he's wearing that damn tank top. Damn him for looking so good-! And that voice! You just wanted to kiss him! Hear every filthy desire he had - did he need you the way you needed him?

"I think you're gonna drown the poor plate like that."

You whipped around to see him adjusting his belt. Chuckling as he nudged his head towards the sink. You looked down and instantly stopped clutching the hose that was practically power washing the none existent dirt on the plate. Quickly turning off the water.

Before you could even turn again you felt him behind you. His breathing uneven ever so slightly. Large hands finding their place on your hips. Your body instantly stiffened as you gulped. Eyes glancing down to see how easily his hands engulfed you, making you look tiny. "Really appreciate you helping me out, doll."

His breath fanned the back of your neck. His grip tightening as he leaned against you. "You're so good for me."

"B-Bob...?"

You wanted to hit yourself for stuttering. Clutching the counter as one of his hands started to drift. Now cupping your sex through your leggings, two rough fingers pressing lightly against your core.

"Always so sweet to me." He huffed out. You felt something hard press against your lower back. "Just want to eat you up."

You didn't know your face could even get this hot. The low growl now in his face made your knees buckle. Bob pushed at your back, pressing down until you were bent over. Your hands now clutching the sink as you peered over your shoulder. He was staring at you with wide eyes, drool creeping from the corner of his lips as he began to grind against your ass.

His hand still glued between your legs as he began to make circles against your dick through the fabric. Able to feel the growing wet spot form as you let out little noises.

"Bob...." You whined but there was a noise at the front. You instantly went stiff as footsteps entered the building - how? It's closed!

"Yo! Bobby! Left my jacket in the back, have you seen it?"

The large man just shrugged. Still smiling as he began to slow down his grind. All his co-worker could see was his upper half as he leaned on the window counter. Pushing his weight on you as his dick was flushed against you.

"Can't say I have but I'd be careful, I started to mop back here."

"It's real wet and slippery." He chuckled to himself, you didn't see his co-workers face but you could tell he was confused. You couldn't deny it. You were absolutely soaked.

There was luckily a wall that separated the kitchen from the other side of the back. Just a box room with a coat hanger and the small bathroom. You wouldn't be spotted unless he came in. There was some rustling as you timidly rolled your hips back, meeting his grinds as you chewed on your lip. It wasn't long before the coworker declared he found it and waved Bob goodbye.

"Hey- didn't you have someone waiting for you?"

"He's waiting outside."

Bobs hold on you grew tighter. Becoming inpatient as he wanted nothing more than to pound into you. Doing his best to keep on his usual smile as you kept teasing him.

"I won't keep you then, See ya!" Finally the door closed and you let out a breath of relief.

Suddenly, you were yanked back. Forced to stand as he grabbed at your body. You mewled at his man handling as he groped and squeezed.

"Such a fine piece of meat....." He shivered as he continued to feel you up. "Tender and soft......so warm..."

He sniffed at your neck as he licked a long strip up it. "Getting all hot and bothered - why don't we cool down?"

You couldn't even respond as he spun you around before chucking you over his shoulder. Slapping your ass as you squirmed. You looked back to see him grab a knife from the drying rack. For a moment your heart stopped; fear flashing through you but arousal overpowered it. Letting him carry you over to the metal door as he hummed.

It was freezing! The meat locker greeted you two with nothing but a chilly embrace. Bob easily stalked through the rows of hooks and meat as his hand gripped tight to the plump of your ass. As soon as he reached the very back he let you slide down. Wobbling back onto your feet as you took a few steps back, eyeing the knife he held. Your back hitting the wall as you rubbed your thighs together.

He was just staring down at you with a wild look in his eyes. His hand reached out and pushed your legs open, prompting you to widened your stance. He hummed as he grazed the knife up your thigh.

"Still want me?" He asked, taking a small step back to give you room as he grabbed your face. Forcing you to look at him but his grip wasn't tight - you could easily pull away.

"Yes- yes I want you." He didn't move. Looking at you expectantly. You licked your lips, tongue grazing his hand as you slumped. "Please! I want you!"

There was a sudden rip and you felt the cold air sting at your warm skin. Squealing as he ripped at the new hole more with his hand, making a perfect spot to access you. He didn't stop there, shredding your poor leggings so now chunks of your thighs were now exposed. Ripping the worn underwear as well. Completely exposing you. His strength made you let out a needy whimper, wanting to see what else he could ruin.

The knife he held slashed at your legs leaving small holes that caused your thighs to spill from them. Bobs breathing became heavier at the sight. But he pulled away, grabbing a nearby chair from the corner and placing it by an empty hook. You raised as he patted the chair. You wobbled over with a confused expression. He laughed through his nose. You wanted to retort but your brain was going stupid. it was easier to just go along and see what he had in store. Bob yanked at the hook, pulling it down making the chain rattle. He tugged on your shirt and sliced through the fabric. Turning it into a makeshift rope. His knife clattering to the floor soon after.

"Bob-! It's cold-!" You cried out. Now even more exposed to the freezers cold nipping.

"I'll keep ya warm sugar, don't worry."

He bound your wrists together and attached the hook to it. Watching it go back to it's original place now weight was added, you let out a yelp as you were now dangling. He was sitting down now and guided you to step on his thighs. Tugging you along until your crotch was level with his face.

"I'm starving." He gripped your thighs, licking what was exposed. You screamed as he bit down; hard enough to leave a nasty hickey as he sucked on the sore flesh.

Leaving many up your thigh until he finally got to your sex. Licking his lips before diving forward. Capturing your dick between his lips as he harshly sucked. You choked on your moan as he let his tongue poke out and lick strips against it. His fingers prodded at your hole, easing two inside as you whimpered. God it felt like there a dick already inside you - you know his hands are big but he's already completely stretching you out.

"Oh god....YES!" You cried out as he thrusted his fingers. Each wet squelch made your head grow dizzy as stars clattered your vision. He was licking and sucking on you as his fingers curled and stroked. Your orgasm speeding forward as you heard his muffle groans grow louder.

His fingers came out causing you to whine but you weren't left for long. His tongue now replacing his fingers as the thick muscle wiggled against you. Finally tasting all of you as you rocked against his face.

"I'm gonna cum- please Bob-!"

He used his thumb to roll your clit as he slurped up your juices. Finally sending you over that edge as your legs trembled. Strained gasps leaving you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Tastes so....good.....so sweet...." He was panting now. Giving your cunt little kitten licks as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Kissing up your sex as he chuckled breathlessly.

When you stumbled back you were able to see his face. The lower half coated in your slick mixed in with his drooling smeared across his chin. His eyes half lidded but trained on your sex, already wanting a second round. Loving how sweet you taste.

You looked down at the tent in his pants. Straining hard against the soft material with a wet patch already there. It was huge - just from the outline alone you couldn't help but let your knees lock. Hiding away your throbbing cunt as you gawked at the size.

"Don't tell me you're scared." He leaned back into the seat as he tugged at his belt. Pulling himself out from both layers; he was huge. Thick, girthy and slapped against his round stomach. You were no mathematician but it had to be atleast 8 inches long and at most 4 inches wide. It was fat like the rest of him.

"Don't be shy, take a seat."

You sucked in a shaky breath as he helped you twisted around. Lowering yourself down with his help until you sat on his lap, his cock rubbing against you as you got comfortable. The resistance from the hook made you want to go back up but he kept you grounded. Bob using it as leverage to angle you properly as he kept an arm around your stomach. Lowering you back down onto his cock as the fat tip pushed through your folds.

You couldn't stop the whimpers and gasps at left you. Slowly taking each inch as you grinded against it, trying to help ease yourself meanwhile he moved his hand from your stomach down to your dick. Rubbing it in tight circles.

"Good boy, you can handle it, you want to take all of me, don't ya?" He didn't wait for you to respond. You doubt you even could.

"You're just a slut who'll ride anyways dick even if it's too big for your little cunt."

You moaned as you felt yourself slip down his cock with more ease finally getting to the base. The outline of his dick nudging at your stomach. His hand pressed down on it as he continued to pleasure you. All these sensations made you tremble as began to drool.

He grabbed at your thighs, hugging your legs close to your chest as he began to thrust up. Lifting you up and down his cock with ease. You stop yourself from clenching around him.

"So tight - hugging me like that-"

"You're so big-!" Was all you could cry out. You could barely think. Your brain focusing on the sensation of being completely stuffed over and over again. Even when only the tip remained you felt full.

Up and down. That's all you could do, it was difficult to move yourself but you rolled your hips as he moved you. Each slap echoing through the freezer as your head fell back.

"Good Fleshlight - that's all you are." You immediately moaned at his words. Clenching harder as stars began to appear. "Oh, you like that? Want me to just use ya? Huh, Doll? Fuck you whenever I want~?"

"Please.....want to....." You struggled to speak through your moans. Forgetting your hands were tied above you as you attempted to reach for his face.

He raised a thick brow as his scruff scratched at your cheek. "Kiss-" you whined as you tilted your face. Hoping he'd understand what you want as you left open mouth kisses just on the corner of his mouth. He moved his arm so it was holding both your legs and grabbed your face. Keeping you still as his mouth crashed against yours, teeth and all. His tongue prodded into your mouth, testing it out before he fully delved in. You didn't even have a chance to retaliate as the wet muscle explored and tasted each corner of your mouth.

He groaned as your spit mixed together. The taste of your juices still lingering. His thrusts up grew more aggressive. Desperate. The slaps of skin becoming louder and louder as the head of his cock slammed into that sweet spot. Bob parted from you and bit down onto your shoulder. His eyes rolling back as he lapped up the bite.

"Gonna feel you up, nice and good."

His voice was raspy as If he could barely catch his breath. You sobbed as you tugged on your restraints, doing your very best to bounce on his cock as he kept his insistent pounding pace. Your second orgasm getting closer as he cooed in your ear.

"Desperate? Choking me down there, you really want it, don't ya?"

"B-Bob! I'ma cu-" you didn't get to finish as your back arched. The world going white as you let out a strangled scream. It was enough to send Bobs climax hurdling forward. Warm sticky cum filling up your soaking heat as he slammed you down. Keeping you in his lap as each thick squirt painted your walls.

Through glassy vision you could just see a peak of your stomach. A bulge only getting bigger as he stuffed you completely. It felt like hours; waiting for him to spill load after load. You could feel it dripping down to your ass from how much there was. You tell if you were shaking from the sex, the strain or the cold finally getting to you. Your body felt a heavy rag doll as he let out a husky groan.

Finally, he stood up. Keeping your back flush against him as he had one arm around your middle. Your legs limply hooked at his sides, barely able to latch on. He undid the meat hook and your arms fell to your front. They were completely numb. He carried you like that out of the meat locker and back into the warm kitchen. The sudden change In temperature made you hiss.

"Such a good boy, took me so well."

He placed you ontop of the prepping table. All you could do was lay there as he shifted your position. Moving you so you were on your back as he easily undid the makeshift binding. Cum was leaking from your oversensitive sex, getting all over the wooden top. Slowly warming up as he traced lines into your skin. Sectioning each part as he licked his lips.

"Delicious." He purred to himself.

You could barely process what he was doing as he tucked himself back into his pants and stalked off. Weakly pawing at the air as a silent plea not for him to go but it went unnoticed. Rustling was heard and thankfully he was back at your side. An oversized top and sweats were in his hands. Peeling off your clothes before helping you into new ones. They were far too big for you but you smiled regardless. His scent thick on the fabric. His stuffed your tattered clothes into his bag.

Bob carried you out, bag on his shoulder and you bridal style in his arms. Smiling as he put you into the passenger seat and buckled you up. Your eyes fluttering as you leaned on his shoulder, sleep overcoming you as he began to drive.

If only you knew what he had in store for you.

[astrronomemes]

TREASURE ISLAND: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the famous Robert Louis Stevenson novel, Treasure Island. change & alter as needed.

"If you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

"We'll sit down, if you please, and talk square, like old shipmates."

"I have just, very much against my own will, dragged you head foremost out of the grave."

"[Name], you're the only one here that's worth anything. And you know I've always been good to you."

"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed deadeye?!"

"You're a lad, you are, but you're as smart as paint."

"Better speak plain, I believe, even at the risk of offense."

"The secret has been told to the parrot."

"Sir, with no intention to take offense, I deny your right to put words into my mouth."

"I will do as you desire, but I think the worse of you."

"You'll find I do my duty."

"I'll have no favorites on my ship."

"All I say is, we're not home again, and I don't like this cruise."

"A trifle more of that man, and I shall explode!"

"You're never happy until you're drunk."

"I've a sick heart to sail with the likes of you!"

"You'll have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang!"

"Dead men don't bite."

"Every man on board has done his duty, alow and aloft, as I never ask to see it done better."

"He'd look remarkably well from a yardarm."

"We must go on, because we can't turn back."

"The best that I can say is not much. We must lay to, if you please, and keep a bright lookout."

"Rest his soul for a true seaman!"

"Long you've been a mate of mine, but you're a mate of mine no more."

"If I die like a dog, I'll die in my duty."

"Wherever a man is, says I, a man can do for himself."

"Well, I don't understand one word that you've been saying, but that's neither here nor there."

"If it's the only course we can lie, sir, we must even lie it."

"[Name], my man, you're going home."

"You're a good boy, or I'm mistook. But you're only a boy, all told."

"That man [name] is a better man than I am. And when I say that, it means a deal."

"Ten to one, this is a trick."

"If there's any treachery, it'll be on your side, and the Lord help you!"

"What is spoke to one is spoke to all."

"You've seen the last of me but musket-balls."

"In the name of heaven, I'll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you."

"I've come aboard to take possession of this ship, [name], and you'll please regard me as your captain until further notice."

"Do you take it as a dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?"

"You can kill the body, [name], but not the spirit. You must know that already."

"For thirty years, I've sailed the seas and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out, knives going, and whatnot. Well, now, I tell you, I've never seen good come of goodness yet."

"One more step, [name], and I'll blow your brains out! Dead men don't bite, you know!"

"I've seen too many die since I fell in with you."

"I've had the top of this business from the start. I no more fear you than I fear a fly."

"Cross me, and you'll go where many a good man's gone before you."

"There's never a man who looked me between the eyes and seen a good day afterwards, [full name], you may lay to that."

"I'm captain here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile."

"You won't fight as gentlemen of fortune should? Then, by thunder, you'll obey, and you may lay to it!"

"What I can do, that I'll do."

"Let 'em come, lad. Let 'em come. I've still a shot in my locker."

"We'll all swing and sundry for your bungling."

"Isn't he a hostage? Are we going to waste a hostage?"

"Lucky for you as I'm not a revengeful man."

"As you have brewed, so shall you drink, my boy."

"Every step, it's you that saves our lives. And do you suppose by any chance that we are going to let you lose yours? That would be a poor return, my boy."

"I'll give you a piece of advice: don't you be in any great hurry after that treasure."

"[Name], if I saved your life, you saved mine. And I'll not forget it."

"You and me must stick close, back to back, like, and we'll save our necks in spite of fate and fortune."

"I'm here to get the stuff, and I'll not be beat by man or devil."

"I never was feared of [name] in his life and, by the powers, I'll face him dead!"

"So you've changed sides again."

"[Name], I reckon I settled you."

"I did what I thought best for those who had stood by their duty. And if you were not one of those, whose fault was it?"

"You're a good boy in your line, [name], but I don't think you and me will go to sea again."

[ash5monster01]

Goes On Chapter Six

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.4k

Five ←→ Seven

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

2/5/60

As much as Charlie hated attending planning committee meetings, he found himself showing up every single time, not wanting to disappoint Evelyn. He knew he had already disappointed her enough during his time here and she was genuinely just trying to be a good friend to him. The least he could do was attend the meetings to a club she cared very much about. So even though the last thing he wanted to do on a Friday afternoon after a long week of classes, was attend this meeting, he started the journey there anyway.

“Hey” Evelyn grins widely at him when he enters the room and Charlie quickly notices how she’s the only one here, hands feverishly working as she ties goodie bags with hearts all over them.

“Where is everyone?” he asks, confused why even though he’s about two minutes late, Evelyn is the only one sitting here doing stuff.

“Oh no one showed. That’s normal. Everyone fizzles out after a while. People always love planning until it comes down to the actual work” Evelyn says with a sigh, hands still moving a mile a minute as she places an assortment of candy in each bag and ties it off. This should be their classmate Sarah’s job considering she suggested goodie bags at the first meeting.

“You’re the easy credit club then huh?” Charlie asks, noticing how she fights off a sad look on her face.

“Sadly and since I love it too much I continue to let it go instead of risk losing my club” she mutters under her breath and Charlie sighs as he moves to sit next to her. Evelyn’s hands don’t stop until Charlie’s lands on her own.

“When you asked me to help you plan the dance you really meant it, didn’t you?” he asks and Evelyn finally gives up her busy work considering she needed enough goodie bags for the entirety of the Junior and Senior class.

“Yeah, it just was nice to know that maybe someone would actually stick around the whole time” she says, a forlorn look painting her face, and Charlie smiles softly. Five months ago he more than likely would’ve attended Evelyn’s club for the easy credit but now he genuinely just wanted to help.

“Well let’s do this, you fill em, I tie em?” Charlie suggests and the grin the cracks along her face is all the confirmation he needs as Evelyn scoops candy into a bag and passes it his way.

“I’m sure you really regret joining my club now” she says after about three bags and Charlie just laughs.

“I wouldn’t say that. You’re one of the few people in this school I can stand and do not get all excited. Someone just can’t learn boundaries” he tells her but the wide smile is all he needs to see to know that she has already taken it to heart. He smiles back until an image of Neil comes to mind and that smile quickly leaves as he turns to tie another bag.

“You do any clubs at your old school or just sports?” she questions, not noticing the change in his demeanor and Charlie feels his heart sink.

“School newspaper, service club, and-” he wants to say it. He wants to say it so badly. It sits on the tip of his tongue and urges it way out but even the thought of it reminds him of everything he was given and everything he had lost. Learning you had free will came with discovering you’re never as free as you think.

“What? Can’t remember?” Evelyn teases and Charlie reminds himself to not be upset with her. She doesn’t know, he made it that way. No one here knew what he had been through. How four months had changed the direction of his life completely.

“Something like that, at Welton everything was serious. The dean would meet with every single one of us to assign extracurriculars ‘based on merit and desire’ and if you missed a practice, a meeting, it was instant demerits. He could assign you or unassign you whenever he felt. It made the things that were supposed to be fun, suffocating” Charlie says, thinking of all the ways that entire school suffocated him until it stomped his lungs out. In fact, he was pretty sure he hadn’t had a real deep breath since then.

“That’s awful. My meetings aren’t even required and people still don’t show anyway. Yet I suppose if we had harsher rules put in place maybe we’d have a higher graduate success rate” and she’s right. Yet it doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. These schools are taking away kids free will, their desire to pursue the things in life they love. All it does is give schools more Ivy League graduates and the world heartless robots. Like his father.

“The school would have a higher success rate. The question is, would you?” Evelyn doesn’t entirely know what he means so she lets the words sink. In a way it really doesn’t affect her how many successful graduates the school has. It would only matter if she was successful and even then, would she even want to go to college?

“What’re your friends like. You know, back at Welton?” and the question catches Charlie off guard, almost whiplashing him from the change in conversation. Yet he doesn’t let it hurt him like it should.

“They’re the best. All of them. Knox is empathetic, the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. He met a girl once and knew she was the one. Went all the way to her school just to recite a poem he wrote about her while she had another boyfriend. He just knows, about everyone he meets” Charlie says, an unknown smile covering his face.

“That’s so sweet” Evelyn coos and Charlie chuckles remembering how crazy Knox was for the very girl he is dating now.

“Then there is Steven, we call him Meeks. He’s wicked smart, like smarter than anyone you know. He knew Latin fluently by the time he was ten and he would do anything I said. He’s so loyal, helped me with my homework every night” Charlie says, recalling all the times he nearly failed if it wasn’t for the help of his red headed friend.

“And Gerard Pitts, taller than a sky scraper and ignorant all the same. Clueless about life and love and yet somehow he was really damn good at it” Charlie says, daring a glance at Evelyn who soaks up each of his words as she scoops more candy into bags.

“And there’s Todd, he started at Welton in the Fall and I’ve never seen a guy trip over more words in my life. He is so shy, and so quiet, but so passionate. I always thought people who were shy had nothing to say, but turns out they just have too much, they can’t decide what comes out first” Charlie says with a hearty laugh because of how true it was. Todd surprised him, he surprised everyone.

“And Neil-” Charlie’s mouth shuts hard and fast, tears burn at the back of his eyes. He had gotten so caught up, reminiscing on his friends and the good times. For a split second he had forgot. Forgot that his very best friend had died.

“You okay?” Evelyn asks, confused at his abrupt stop and Charlie takes a moment to swallow the regret that sits in his throat. He basks in that fleeting moment of what it felt like to think Neil was still here. He takes the opportunity to still feel it.

“Yeah, Neil is my best friend. Since my very first day at Welton when I was ten years old. He was my first roommate and we’ve been inseparable since” the words sit heavy on his chest because it turns out they were no longer together and Charlie never could’ve imagined the day. “He would do anything for anyone, even if he just met them. Kindest guy I know. He’s probably the only reason I didn’t get expelled sooner. He is always so good at keeping me in line. Accepting of everyone and everything, I always wished I could be like that”

"You're like that" Evelyn says, surprising him and acting as if the words she just uttered weren’t as serious as they were.

“All I’ve done is push you away since I got here” Charlie countered, unsure how she would even see him as accepting.

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you don’t accept me for who I am. Trust me, I could tell. Girls my age have never liked me because I was different. I’m outgoing and I never care what people think, I say what I’m thinking all the time. I never had a real friend until Violet. You may not want to be friends with me Charlie but I know it’s not because you don’t like me” she explains and Charlie suddenly realizes Evelyn was a very lonely person. He’d never seen her with anyone but the group and even then she seemed closer to Nate than Violet. It was the first time he realized someone could be lonely even with friends.

“I like you Evelyn, very much” Charlie admits and he knows he’s going to regret it when a cocky grin creeps across the girls features. He knows some witty response is sitting on her lips but before she can say it and embarrass him further, the door swings open.

“Hey!” Laurie is quick to greet them, whipping the door closed behind her and turning the lock.

“Someone looks distressed” Charlie muttered, eyeing the girl whose wild eyes glance out the small window at the door. When she quickly dodges out the way both Evelyn and Charlie giggle at her behavior.

“Nick Harrison is trying to ask me to the dance” she finally informs them both and Evelyn is the only one to laugh since Charlie doesn’t even know who Nick is.

“Just tell him no Laur, he’s gonna have to get over this crush soon enough” Evelyn says, picturing the 5’4” boy with wide rimmed glasses and persistent runny nose from allergies. He was sweet but determined and Laurie had been his conquest for years.

“I don’t want to break his heart and I heard Jay Adam’s wanted to ask me too and if that little rascal beats him to it, I’ll be humiliated” Laurie says walking towards the table and Evelyn giggles again, imagining the tall and handsome football star beside little Nick Harrison.

“Okay well Laurie, hear me out. If Jay doesn’t ask just take Nick. He has good intentions and a good heart, you might even have fun” and suddenly Charlie is attracted to the girl beside him even more.

“Listen, I’m not promising anything but maybe. I’ll just have to avoid him until then” Laurie says, moving to glance back out the window and Evelyn just shook her head.

“Good luck then” she offered her blonde friend and Laurie turned to grin at them both as she fixed her bag on her shoulder.

“Thank you, see you” and she was blowing a kiss and sneaking back out the door into the hallway that must be clear of Nick now.

“So this whole bring a date to the dance thing is a big deal, huh?” Charlie asked, now alone with the beautiful girl again.

“For the Valentines dance, yeah. It’s kind of like announcing to the school who you’re with, have a crush on, and so on. Exactly why it’s my goal to make it perfect” she explained, a soft smile on her face that suggested the very dance was the kind of thing a girl wanted to get asked too. Dreamed of getting asked too. If Charlie was the same guy he was five months ago it would be this very dance he’d take opportunity to find the hottest date too.

“That’s cool, kind of sweet actually” Charlie said, looking away from the girl as he tied the few goodie bags he had yet to catch up on and Evelyn took a moment to really look at the boy. She could see there was so much more bubbling under the surface, just begging to come out.

“Yeah, it can be. If you get asked at least” and Charlie realized that this suggests Evelyn had never been asked to the dance. He looks up to meet her eyes and as much as she smiles he still sees the sadness that resides there. The longing for someone to actually want her exactly the way she is.

“What’re you doing after this?” Charlie suddenly blurts and Evelyn finds her heart pounding from the sudden question.

“Nothing, probably homework since Violet will be out with Marty” she says and Charlie smiles a different smile than she has ever seen on him. This was a smile of a boy who simply just liked a girl and wanted to get to know her better. A confident boy just dying to come out.

“Let’s get dinner, I haven’t really left campus since I got here. It’ll be fun, my treat” and Evelyn can’t help the smile that crosses her face because for the entirety of his time here all she has wanted is Charlie to spend time with her and now here he was asking her to do something non school related.

“Okay, sounds fun” she agrees and Charlie nods and starts back on tying the bags in front of him but Evelyn no longer cared about completing the goodie bags because she was going to hang out with Charlie Dalton. Finally.

When the bags were finally completed the pair collected their things and started their walk off campus. In search of a restaurant amongst the small town, no lull in conversation the entire way, and Evelyn vaguely wondered where this Charlie had been the whole time. Outgoing and fun Charlie would could make her laugh and was so passionate about everything around him. It made her wonder the very thing that could cause a boy so full of life like this to cut himself off from the world. Yet she never asked out loud despite wanting to, because she wasn’t quite ready to scare him off just yet. So they ate dinner together and got to know each other all while Charlie debated if he should even ask her to the dance at all.

Neither of them knowing Nate sat outside Evelyn’s door with a dozen roses waiting for her to get back so he could ask her to the dance himself.

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

I’ll Stand by You (Sweet Jane Part Two) — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Episode One: Hey Jude

Warning: One gif shows mild self harm. (The digging nails into palm from Riverdale)

“You were a risk, a mystery, and the most certain thing I’d ever known.”

Campbell finished playing a song and he spoke into the microphone, “That was Money (That's What I Want)—"

“Cannae hear ye, Campbell.

“From way back in 1959—” Campbell continued, now louder

“They still cannae hear ye.

“AND THIS IS CAMPBELL BAIN, THE BANE OF YOUR LIFE!” Campbell all but shouted.

“Campbell—” Eddie started.

Campbell turned and snapped, irritably at Eddie, “Eddie, I'm a mentally ill person. If I shout any louder I'll be restrained and sedated!”

He felt Y/N take his hand and brought it to the fader as Eddie pointed this out, “The fader, Campbell.”

He paused. “...Oh, I knew that!” He lied.

“Okay, Campbell, we'll try it again.”

Campbell started to jingle again, making it let out a screechy staticky whistling as it played, making Y/N jump up, suddenly, clamping her hands over her ears, making Campbell look at her with deep concern before Fergus reached over Campbell’s turned shoulder and pulled the slider down

“You'll blow the monitors if you push 'em like that.” He told them, “Along with Y/N’s eardrums.”

“Fergus! I nearly got it right that time! What're—” Campbell complained but cut himself off when he saw Fergus wearing a white doctor’s coat and glasses with his pulled back into a ponytail, “Well, well! The poacher's turned gamekeeper, eh? Where did you get the coat?”

Fergus looked down at the nametag to read it, “From, uh, Doctor Brady.”

“You look dead handsome like that, so you do.” Rosalie complimented.

“Get everything you needed?” Eddie asked.

“Almost.” Fergus said as he held up an electronic device, “That only cost 50p. I'll strip it for the power transistors.” Then he gestured to Campbell. “Are you sure you trust him on that desk?”

“Fergus, this desk and I are on intimate terms. This desk and I are practically engaged. We're doing our first show together tomorrow night.”

“Not tomorrow, Campbell.” Eddie told him.

“But I'm standing at the threshold of one the most important moments of my life here!” Campbell whined before saying, fervently, “Give me an audience; give me punters and I will deliver, Eddie!”

“Well! I hadn't expected such a crowd.” A woman said, entering, and Y/N rolled her chair away from her, looking at her suspiciously as she nodded at Fergus, “Doctor.” Then to everyone else, “Which one of you is Eddie McKenna?”

“Um, I am.” Eddie said, standing up.

“I'm Mrs. MacDonald, assistant administrator.” She said

“Mrs. MacDonald.” Eddie said, shaking her hand.

“Call me Evelyn. Just thought I'd pop my head in and say hello, ask if you need anything.” She said and Y/N and Fergus exchanged looks before the silent patient gave her a blank stare.

“Aye, we do.” Fergus said.

“I'm sorry?” Evelyn asked as Y/N handed Fergus a cable.

“We need some shielded three-core flex. This stuff is useless. The doctors' bleeps are coming through on the air.”

“Well, that should be possible.” Evelyn said, having understood very little of that but smiling to pretend that she did.

“And some paint! This place needs redecorating, so it does.” Rosalie interjected.

“Oh, hang on. Just let me make a list.”

Y/N smacked Fergus in the shoulder, lightly and gestured to the mixing desk. “Yes, the main thing is the mixing desk.” Fergus opened said mixing desk, “Now, we've got a lot of crackle coming through on these faders, and these two here have had it, really.” Y/N used a screwdriver to demonstrate which wires, “Now, we could do with a couple of new ones if you can still get them, but what we really need is a new desk. A six-into-two would even do us.”

“My goodness!” Evelyn laughed, “Are you a doctor or an engineer?”

“I'm a patient.” Fergus said as Y/N smiled, cheekily at her before he took his glasses off, laughing as Evelyn’s smile fell but not having the open mind that Eddie had when he mistook a patient for a doctor.

“We're all patients. Except him,” Campbell said, nodding towards Eddie, “who isn't, but should be. But don't worry; we're heavily tranquilized and pose no danger to the public.” Campbell then gave her an adorkable smile.

“No, that's marvelous, involving the patients.” She said but Y/N could tell she wasn’t genuine and was being very fake, not exactly going to be the next Oscar winner, “I'll see what I can do about this list. Uh, there's an endowment trust we can approach. But the hospital board will want to see some figures, I'm afraid.” Her voice was now hesitant. Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up on this at once.

“What kind of figures?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, just a budget proposal, really. Current running costs, projected capital outlay, that sort of thing. If you've got your books up to date and you've got some written estimates of the equipment you propose to purchase, you can—” Evelyn said as Campbell and Y/N started to get very bored and they exchanged very bored, like in Math(s)-class-level-bored looks before Campbell played the jingle.

“That was dedicated to the bored and boring board of Saint Jude's Hospital, that bloated, bilious body of befuddled brains we'd like to befriend. Just give us your dosh, boys!” Campbell said into the microphone cheerfully.

Can’t Buy Me Love by the Beatles played before Eddie scolded, “Campbell!” He slid the fader back down, quieting the music.

“Well. Pretty impressive! Anyway, Eddie, I'll pop in again in a few days when you have a chance to get some figures together. And... thanks for the wee demonstration, as it were.” Evelyn said, taken aback, confused, and not wanting to be near Campbell as she felt he definitely was mentally unstable and she didn't like the death glare that was being given to her by Y/n.

“Oh, well done, Campbell.” Eddie said, sarcastically.

“I told you I could do it if I had an audience!” Campbell said, the sarcasm going right over his head.

“No that. What's Evelyn gonna think of that?” Eddie nodded at the mixer, having been referring to Campbell’s performance out of boredom.

“She'll think I'm a loony. I am a loony. ...Come on, Eddie. Let me do my own show tomorrow, eh?” Campbell pleaded.

Eddie looked at Fergus and Y/N, the older of the two quiet and gentle patients shook his head ‘no’ while the youngest and most quiet on, nodded her head, enthusiastically, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!

Eddie sighed, looking at Campbell and conceded, “...Aye, okay.”

Campbell then jumped up from his chair, either really excited or having a mild manic mood swing. “You beau-taay! Tomorrow night! The Campbell Bain Show debuts tomorrow night!” He extended his arms out and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling like, I’M ON TOP OF THE WORLD as Y/N watched with a sparkle in her eyes. “Eat your heart out, Ken Bruce, you bastard, ha!” His smile immediately fell when he spotted his father entering the room, “Oh... Hello.”

“They, uh, told me I'd find you in here.” His dad said, uncomfortably.

“...Aye.” Campbell glanced at his friends, rather nervous about how his father would react to them given his disbelief in his son’s own mental disorder, “Well... here I am." He turned back to his friends, who were uncomfortably waiting for him to introduce this man to them, "...Eh, you lot, this is my dad." Eddie smiled in greeting but like Y/n, his eyes kept darting back to Campbell, noticing his obvious uncharacteristic nervousness and stillness, "Dad, this is that lot and this is Y/N, my best friend…” He said, placing a hand on the back of Y/N’s back as she looked at him, considering they had only met two months ago and she’s never even spoken to him despite the many, many, many times he’s spoken to her, before quickly adding, “but-but not my--not my-my girlfriend…”

He cut himself off as his dad gave them all apart from Campbell a cold look while the one he gave Campbell was just uncomfortable and disappointed, like he thought he had to walk on eggshells around him.

Then his dad just left, intending for the unsettled Campbell to follow. Campbell turned to Y/N and pleaded with her with his eyes to follow in case things went wrong which they most likely would, knowing his father and Y/N got up and walked solemnly after them, glaring at Campbell’s dad the whole time.

The father and son entered the day room as Y/N slowly walked in, glaring at Campbell’s dad still, before sitting down and continuing to glare daggers at Campbell's dad.

“Uh,” Campbell glanced at Y/N with her rather terrifying stare at his father like she was planning on murdering him, “have a seat.” Then he joked to lighten the mood, “I'd get you a cup of tea, but they don't trust us with kettles.”

“No, you might burn yourselves.”

“Aye. Or wear them on our heads. Either way, it requires medical intervention.” The teen chuckled, nervously.

“I've just, uh, had a word with your doctor, by the way.”

“Oh, aye?” Campbell asked with mild curiosity.

“He gave me some good news... I think. He says they'll be letting you out of here soon. Next week, he reckons.” Campbell’s dad said and Y/N’s insides flipped, not sure how she should feel. Her empathetic side was happy for him but her selfish side was sad that she wouldn’t be able to see him as often.

Campbell had defied all her expectations after her trauma. He was everything she had started to lose belief in in men. He was kindness and gentleness and sunshine.

Campbell clearly thought this was great news, “You're joking — next week?” He said, excitedly and then jumped up, excitedly, shouting, “YES! YES! FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST!” He walked over to Y/N and kissed her on the head, enthusiastically, “THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, I'LL BE FREE AT LAST!”

He spotted the bittersweet look on Y/N’s face, making him pipe down and look at her with confusion and concern so his dad took this opportunity to talk.

“Aye, well. Just thought I'd come and ask you if you'd, uh, any plans for when you come out.”

Y/N scoffed, knowing what he meant at once. Was that really his only concern? Not welcoming his wonderful son home.

“Aye! Loads of them!” Campbell said, enthusiastically, not understanding, “Massive booze-up with all my pals. Holiday in the Seychelles—or Majorca; I'll slum it. And… lose my virginity. I'm nineteen, I think I should lose my virginity, don't you?”

For some reason, Y/N felt even more sad at this, not noticing how Campbell’s brown eyes darted at her before his dad ruined his excitement… as per usual.

“Listen, stop your daft act! You'll make me think you need to stay here.” Campbell’s dad snapped, making Campbell’s mood switch from manic to depressed as he slumped into a seat, seeing his dad hadn’t changed as much as he had as Y/N glared at the ununderstanding father, her nails digging into her skin, something she had done from a young age to keep herself from violently lashing out. The pain grounding her but she had never told anyone this due to it being considered as self-harm.

“I was talking about your future, son. You didn't get your exams, you know. Your mother and I was wondering if you'd thought about going back to do your exams.”

Yes because exams are fair and test all kinds of intelligences equally instead of one or two because that would be massively unfair to those with mental and/or learning disorders by forcing them to conform to the way normal people think. Y/N thought, sarcastically, her nails breaking skin.

“Well... cannae say that was the first thing that crossed my mind.” Campbell admitted.

“Well, think about it, son!” His dad said, like, what else could you possibly be thinking about, “There's a recession on. Nobody gets nothing for nothing. You need qualifications.”

Alistair looked back at them in annoyance before catching the deadly glare Y/N gave him like, say something if you dare.

“Well, it's just... I don't know what I wanna do yet.” Campbell sighed.

“Ah, don't give me your daft talk. We're talking about a job. I mean, what you want has nothing to do with it!” Campbell’s dad snapped as Y/N’s nails pushed harder into her palm.

“Aye, well, I could always be a road sweeper, I suppose.” Campbell snapped, bitterly, getting up and turning his back to his father.

“I am not a road sweeper! I work for the Cleansing Department. And I'm a foreman.” His dad defended and Y/N audibly scoffed.

You sweep the road.” Campbell said, coldly.

“Oh? I never heard you complain about the food it put on the table.” Perhaps because you were too busy criticizing him and refusing to listen to him to hear him. “Do you want to be a waster all your life?” You’re the waster. “'Cause I'm not having it. You've got to pull yourself together, because this thing is killing your mother. It's positively killing her. I mean, the doctor's had to put her on tablets because she's so upset about it.” Then why isn’t she here?

Y/N’s eye started to switch as her nails continued to dig.

Campbell just breathed out a bitter laugh at that, “That makes two loonies in the family.”

“Your mother is not a loony. We've never had a loony in the family before you. Not on my side or your mother's. You've just got to stop this. Put it all behind you. Pull yourself together. You understand me?” His father ordered like it was something Campbell could turn on and off or like it was some act for attention.

Campbell just nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking but he still didn’t turn around. His dad went to put his hand on Campbell’s shoulder but stopped himself before he could.

“You just have to think about your future, son.” He told him as Campbell stared solemnly at the floor

Y/N glared at Campbell’s father as he left as he gave her a cold look back, once he was gone Y/N walked towards Campbell and hugged him from behind, he grabbed at her hands before turning around in the hug and pulling her into a stronger hug as he buried his face into the top of her head.

— 

The next day, Fergus and Campbell announced “Campbell Bain’s Looney Tunes Show” with Campbell in a wheelchair with balloons and streamed on it… also on Fergus.

Later that night, Campbell, Y/N, Rosalie, and Fergus were in the station and Eddie wasn’t there yet.

Campbell stressfully took out a cigarette out of his pack as Fergus squeezed a yellow balloon, “He should be here by now!” He looked down at Rosalie who was under the desk, spraying Campbell’s boots and Y/N high tops. “Rosalie, what are you doing?”

“Just polishing your shoes, son.” Rosalie said and Campbell felt his cigarette be pulled out of his fingers by Y/N and dropped in a pitcher of water. Campbell looked over at Fergus in disbelief.

Campbell excused Y/N by asking her to get him some water that didn’t have cigarettes in it and then lit a new cigarette.

“We're gonna have to go without him.” Fergus said as Y/N came back with the water and frowned at Campbell who taking a nervous puff of his cigarette.

“Ten... nine... eight... seven... six...” Fergus counted down as Y/N took the cigarette from Campbell and stubbed it out, giving him a disapproving look. “Two... one. You're on.”

Campbell leaned towards the microphone and spoke, “That was I Hear You Knocking, But You Can't Come In, dedicated to all the medical staff here at Saint Jude's Hospital. They hear you knocking, but you cannae get out! And this is Campbell Bain with the first ever Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes Show!” Y/N pushed the button that played the Looney Tunes jungle, “And our next request is for Senga on Ward six, who tells me that she's being controlled by aliens from another planet.” He put on the record, Puppet on a String and then he joked, “Sengaaa, the nursing assistants are only doing their job.”

He heard Y/N giggle beside him, making his heart do flips. Y/N. She was definitely what he was going the miss most. Even with her never saying a single word to him.

Fergus and Y/N spotted Eddie stopping from a dash when he saw Campbell, sorting through the records. Fergus waved casually at him.

And now, I've been asked to play a "dead smoochy" tune by Alison on Ward 7.” Campbell said in a comedically husky voice, “So here's a song that should cause each of us to experience a wee flutter in the heart, a wee catch in the throat; a tune that we can truly call our song.” He said the last sentence while looking at Y/N.

Campbell put on the song, Goin’ Out of my Head and then he spotted Eddie and he smiled at him, before looking at Y/N who was bopping her head along to the song.

—

“Cocoa's up. You coming” Campbell asked Eddie as Y/N waited for him, quite proud of the looney.

“No. Gotta get these figures together for Evelyn.” Eddie refused.

Campbell was nervous yet excited as he put his hands in his pockets, “I had fun tonight, guys. I think that's the most fun I've ever had without being manic.” There was a nervous pause. “Was I any good?”

Y/N didn’t even hesitate, she nodded and gave him two thumbs-up. That was as good as he was going to get with her.

Eddie paused, considering before turning to look at him, “Aye.”

This was the kind of support Campbell never got from his father and it excited the young man, “I've never been good at anything before, Eddie. I spent four years of my life learning to play guitar and the only song I can play all the way through is ‘Knock Knock Knockin' on Heaven's Door. And I only did it to try and pull women. I'm no good at that either.” He sighed and Eddie breathed out a laugh, knowing that Y/N was quite infatuated with him, even without her ever saying a word to him… or to anyone in the hospital, “I want to do this. Professional, Eddie, Y/N. D'you think... I could?”

Y/N gave him a smile while Eddie said, “Maybe, aye.”

“But I've got to take it seriously.” He said, starting to pace, “It's got to be taken seriously, this thing. First thing I'm gonna do is get some cans like yours, Eddie.”

“Beyer DT-100s.” Eddie said, flatly.

“Aye. Professional cans, with my name on them in big yellow fluorescent letters. Build up my own record collection; specialize in something. Get some routines together. What else do I need?

“Experience, Campbell?” Eddie suggested.

“Aye, good point! They're no gonna hire somebody who just walks in off the street. They're going to hire somebody who has spent days, if not weeks, developing their show into a creature that's, is totally fresh and fundamentally loony in every way!” He said, excitedly.

“‘Days, if no weeks’?” Eddie repeated his words, considering he had been trying to go professional for eight years.

“They're letting me out of here next week, Eddie. And I wanna come and work for you. Full time. I want you to teach me everything you know. We'll be a double act. We are gonna make this the most outrageous and original hospital broadcasting outfit in the country! This station is gonna take us places, Eddie.” Campbell proposed and Y/N’s heart began to lift.

“‘Us?”

“Well, you're no gonna sell double glazing all your life, are yeh?” Campbell pointed out.

“Uh, no likely, anyway.” Eddie muttered, figuring he was going to be fired in a few days due to his literal workaholic boss’ impossible standards.

“Then go for it! Have you never wanted to go professional, Eddie?” Campbell asked.

“I've sent out the odd tape.” Eddie said as Y/N tilted her head.

“And?”

“Uh, general consensus seemed to be, um, I was shite.” He muttered.

Campbell thought about this for a moment before saying, “Ah, well, that's where you went wrong. You see, you went to them. That's one thing I'm sure of, is you've got to get them to come to you. What's it called...”

“Abduction, Campbell, and it's illegal.” Eddie deadpanned.

“No! No! No!” He spotted Y/N pad which she had written the word on, “Yes! Market strategy. Creating a seller's market. Can you see the potential? We are one of the only loony radio stations in the country! Think of the angle, the publicity!” He mimed a newspaper headline in the air, “‘Loonies Take Over Asylum at Saint Jude's’. All we have to do is be brilliant as well as original, and they'll be coming to us. With your knowledge and experience and my hypomania, how can we lose? Come on, Eddie. You with me?”

Eddie thought about for a moment before nodding, “Aye. Campbell grinned widely at his answer.

“Are you sure you're no manic?” Eddie asked.

“I'm inspired, Eddie.” He corrected.

“What's the difference?”

“Inspired is when you think you can do anything. Manic is when you know it.” Campbell explained and went to get his cocoa. Y/N smiled and followed Campbell to get hers.

--

Later Campbell was reading a book called Careers in Radio when he looked up to see a soaking wet Fergus with a shopping bag.

“Fergus! Did you get them?” He asked, excitedly.

“Aye. Secondhand. Fifty quid.” Fergus said, opening the bag for Campbell.

“This is brilliant! Brilliant! My first professional headphones.” Campbell said, getting his headphones out and putting them on as Fergus got a towel to dry off. “Did you get the paint?” Fergus pointed at the bag and Campbell fumbled with the bag until he got the pain out, “I have to put my name on them. That's how they do it in professional radio.”

“Where'd you get all this cash, anyway?” Fergus wondered.

“Sold Mad John all Y/N and my cigarettes. She doesn’t smoke so she was happy to.” He explained.

“For sixty quid?”

“Well, it was nearly eight packs. And he did offer; he was desperate.” Campbell said.

“But what are you gonna do for smokes?” Fergus asked.

“I'm giving it up. I've gotta take care of my voice. And may God strike me dead if I so much as engage in passive smoking.” He said.

“But everybody smokes in here.” Fergus said, “Except your girlfriend.”

Campbell merely glanced at him, slightly irritated at him calling Y/N his girlfriend but decided not to comment on it. “Then I'll stop breathing in. I’ll do whatever Y/N does. C'mon! Let's try these out at the station.”

He went to run out of his room and to the station when he was stopped by his father entering, looking just as lethargic and boring as ever. So, the exact opposite of Campbell in every conceivable way. “Dad! Hello.”

Campbell’s dad looked at Fergus and frowned, “You're wet!”

Fergus pressed his finger against his temple like he just got an idea or was getting a psychic message from someone and then said, sarcastically, “Next time I'll take my clothes off before I get into the bath.” The he gave Campbell’s dad a somewhat loony-esque look as he walked out.

“I thought he was a doctor.” Campbell’s dad said, confused and slow.

“Only part time.” Campbell said with a slight nervous chuckle.

Campbell’s dad then decided to ignore this, not having his son’s acceptance and love for “loonies” as his son put it. “I was wondering if you'd thought about what we were saying.”

Neither noticed Y/N appear at the door, leaning against the door frame, watching the scene with scrutiny but not interrupting.

“Yes. I have. And I've decided that you're absolutely dead on. I'm nineteen years old and it's time I started thinking about my future.” Campbell said with a big smile.

“Oh, aye?” His dad asked.

“You're gonna be proud of me, Dad.” Campbell hoped, but somehow, this was doubtful with what was known about Campbell’s close-minded dad. “Because I've decided that my future, my life's work, my soul's passion is gonna be this.” He pulled his headphones from around his neck to over his ears.

“...You're going to be an airline pilot?” His dad asked.

“Nooo!” Campbell drawled out, making Y/N lips twitch into a smile before her glare settled back onto his dad. “A radio disc jockey! And I can get all the experience I need right here in the hospital station!”

Campbell's dad was not proud in the slightest, just disappointed and exasperated for what he assumed to be his son’s latest “obsession” but was actually more accurately a Bipolar hyperfixation. “Back to that, are we?” He asked, sitting down.

“Back to what?” Campbell frowned, pulling his headphones down.

“Well, six months ago you wanted to be a pop star.” His dad reminded him.

“That was different. I cannae sing.” Campbell told him.

“Two years before, you wanted to be a racing jockey.”

“I'm afraid of horses.”

“Before that, you wanted to be an actor!” His dad complained.

“I cannae remember lines. But this is different! I'm good at it! I know I am! Y/N told me, I mean not so much with words, but she did in her own way!”

“The mute girl?”

“SHE’S NOT MUTE!” Campbell shouted, angrily, gesturing to Y/N at the door who waved sarcastically at Campbell’s dad with a sarcastically sweet smile.

“Ah, well, there's a lot of things are gonna be different from now on. Your mother and me have been talking, and... we've decided it would be a good idea if you went to your auntie Susan's for a bit.” Campbell’s dad told him.

“But she lives in Perth.” Campbell said, shocked.

Y/N’s heart fell at this. Campbell wasn’t just leaving the hospital, he would be even further away. If he meant Perth, Scotland then he’d be sixty miles away, that would be over an hour’s drive. If he meant Perth, Australia, then that was in a whole different time zone.

“Yes, but you can go to adult classes there. You'll get the peace and quiet that you need.”

Y/N scoffed at his dad’s reasoning. It sounded more like if Campbell had another episode, he didn’t want to deal with it and he was using his education as an excuse.

“I cannae go to Perth! I've gotta stay in Glasgow to work in the station! I need the experience!” Campbell freaked out, holding up his headphones at his dad, Y/N eased over to behind Campbell, sensing his anger rising.

Y/N took Campbell’s headphones from his hands and replaced them with her headphones.

“You need to get well!” His dad protested like he was arguing with someone who was actually ill and Perth was actually going to help do that. How exactly?

 “BUT I'M NOT ILL!” Campbell screamed and just as Y/N had predicted Campbell threw his headphones at his bed, they bounced and hit the floor, she could hear them break even though Campbell was shouting as she slinked back out of the room, “YOU CANNAE MAKE ME GO TO  PERTH! I'M NINETEEN YEARS OLD, AND I'M STAYING IN GLASGOW TO WORK IN THE STATION! I'M GONNA BE A PROFESSIONAL DJ WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!”

“You stand there, shouting at the top of your voice, throwing your arms about like some mad scarecrow, and you're telling me you're not ill?” His father scoffed as Y/N glared with him with such hatred. “You're not capable of thinking straight, and some straight thinking needs to be done. Now, your mother and me have done our best to look after you.” Y/N clenched her jaw as her hatred increased, “If that's not good enough for you, then there... there's nothing left but... to have you sectioned, and let the doctors decide.”

Campbell’s anger turned to shock and brokenheartedness as Y/N’s turned from fiery hatred to ice-cold hatred. There was officially one person she hated more than she hated Campbell’s father. She could see that he wanted to love a normal son but he didn’t have that so he tried to shape Campbell into being normal, but he wasn’t but he just didn’t have the capacity to understand that and just blamed Campbell for things that wasn’t his fault.

“...Oh, Jesus. You'd have me sectioned?” Campbell breathed, looking at his father with horror through his floppy light auburn hair.

“I'll come round on Monday to collect you. Your uncle has loaned me his car.”

Great. Y/N thought, Then I could key it with curse words.

Campbell’s father went to turn to leave when his son spoke again in a heartbroken tone, “Have you never been young, Dad? Was there never anything you wanted to do, you wanted to be, more than anything in the world?”

His dad paused and then said, “Oh, aye. Goalkeeper for the Glasgow Rangers. Lot of fucking good it did me.”

Yeah, because you have no talent whatsoever, nor compassion, empathy, or unconditional love for your so. Only if he’s the way you want him to be. Y/N thought with sardonicism. 

Campbell looked up to see Y/N blocking his dad’s way, glaring daggers at him before he shuffled past, muttering about loonies.

Campbell looked at her with tears in his eyes, “WHAT!? YOU THINK I’M JUST AS BROKEN AS HE DOES! THAT’S WHY YOU FOLLOW ME AROUND BUT NEVER SPEAK TO ME!” He lashed out but Y/N showed no emotion on her face, she just took it like she was used to being screamed at… she was. Campbell got up and ran past her and she ran after him.

--

Evelyn was showing her true colors to Eddie, to her the only normal who worked at the station.

“Eddie, nobody could admire you more than I do for involving the patients. But I think the intention when we decided to fund the station was that there would be a regular staff of outside volunteers. Reliable people.” She voiced her opinion. Which was wrong in every way imaginable because in her mind, they were dangerous, unstable, and every stereotype their mental illnesses and/or disorders presented via said stereotype or movies or discrimination in general when in actuality people with mental illnesses which was over one third of the Earth’s population were eleven times more likely to be the victims of crime and/or violence than the general public.

“I've never been let down.” Eddie frowned.

“Eddie, some of these patients have horrendous problems. It's not fair to expect too much.” Evelyn explained to him like she was explaining what a surplus was to an eight and then to a five-year-old. Even though each “patient with horrendous problems” had done just as much if not more than Eddie had.

“They keep telling me how much they enjoy it.” Eddie said, shocked and confused. Wasn’t this woman supposed to be the Assistant Administrator of mental health? It was becoming more clear why she was Miss Evelyn MacDonald and not Mrs. Evelyn MacDonald or Doctor Evelyn MacDonald.

“You can't always listen to them.” Evelyn said, even though that’s what people already did that and when it should be the opposite with less screaming at them that their view of the world was wrong and the normals’ view of the world was right.

Then she left as Eddie looked after her, not understanding why she would think that, he had spent ten minutes in this hospital before realizing that his initial assumptions towards the patients had been wrong, thanks to the contrast between Stuart and Campbell.

Then he noticed that Francine had been eavesdropping on the quite upsetting conversation and she ran off.

“Francine!” He cried after her.

Campbell visibly upset and trying to light a cigarette with his lighter stalked past behind Eddie.

“Campbell? Campbell!” Eddie called as Y/N ran past him after Campbell with his new headphones around her neck.

Eddie had never seen Campbell so upset before, given Campbell was either always happy, manic, or overwhelmed, so he followed Campbell and Y/N. Campbell stormed into the studio, sulked over to the chair next to Fergus and flung himself into it, dejectedly before Y/N opened the door and knelt by Campbell’s side but he twisted his torso so the swivel chair turned him away from her, refusing to look at her, feeling guilty for what he said and not wanting to look her in the eyes.

“I thought you said you were gonna give up cigarettes.” Fergus told him.

“Aye, well, I also said I was gonna become a DJ.” Campbell said, bitterly and depressedly.

Eddie came around the corner and traded looks with Fergus. Eddie nodded at Campbell like, do you know what’s wrong?

Fergus shrugged like, No idea and I have no idea how to help him.

Y/N held up her hand, reassuringly like, I got this, boys.

Y/N grabbed Campbell’s arm and pulled him but refused to get up so the chair rolled until Fergus grabbed the back of the chair, making Campbell reluctantly stumble after Y/N who pulled him to his room, closing the door behind them and sat him on his bed and sat next to him so he could vent.

“Maybe, my dad’s right. Maybe following your dreams only exits in television.” Campbell sighed and tried to take another puff of the cigarette but Y/N took it from him and put it out on his ashtray. He looked at her and took out another cigarette which she took from him. He tried three more times in which she did the same.

He finally looked her in the eyes, “Well, that’s the least fun game ever, Y/N,” He deadpanned and she gave him a smile as she tilted her head and a sparkle twinkled in her eyes like, come on. Come on, buddy. Interact with me. He let out a half-scoff, half-chuckle and said, “Look, I’m sorry that I shouted at you, Y/N. I really am and I know you don’t think I’m broken and I don’t think you’re broken—I know I didn’t say that but I know you think you are because I know that look in your eyes. I’ve been here a while and I’ve had that look in my eyes for a long time.”

He stopped his rambling when Y/N placed her hand on his, sending waves of warmth through his body like hot cocoa on a cold day, “Maybe I need to be more like Eddie, a realist. Get a job to get by. Maybe, I’m just not that good. Maybe idealism is for suckers and I’m not as talented as I thought I was.”

“No.” Y/N spoke.

Campbell shook his head in disbelief and looked at Y/N with wide eyes, “Did you just…”

“Don’t give up, Campbell.” She said, softly, her voice was soft and bit hoarse from going ten months without speaking and so her vocal chords had atrophied a little but nothing too bad.

Campbell let out a laugh and cupped her cheek, “you’re talking. You’re really talking.”

“Your dad is close-minded arse who’s just miserable with his life and takes it out on you. I wanted to attack him and I wanted to key his car but he took the bus here… I checked. I wanted to scream at him and make him go crazy so he’d know what being loony is like.”

“You’re a really dark person, aren’t you?” Campbell chuckled, not at all worried or upset with her for wanting to commit physical and psychological damage upon his father.

“Manic-Depressive disorder is eighty percent genetic and most likely passed down from the father’s side of the family, just because there’s no known family members of your family doesn’t mean there weren’t any. Until seven years ago, they called attention deficit hyperactivity disorder or ADHD, ‘hyperkinetic reaction to childhood” despite the disorder being known since either the late seventeen-hundreds or the early nineteen-hundreds. Stress, emotional abuse, neglect, being bullied, loneliness, isolation, pressure, etcetera, etcetera.”

Campbell studied her as she spoke, seeing she was rather intelligent though he had expected that from her engineering skills but this was knowledge of mental health that even some of the therapists he saw didn’t seem to know as they just insisted that he needed to calm down or he wouldn’t be able to function in society or lazy or over enthusiastic or a slacker or pointed out whether he seemed happy or sad that day like he needed it gauged and vocalized or that he was faking his episodes before they finally diagnosed him with manic-depressive disorder. She had a Y/A (Your accent) accent that sent his heart a-fluttering.

“You are not mentally incompetent or unwell. You are not acting out or putting on a daft act.” His eyes became misty with happy tears, “You are perfect just the way you are. You’re so much stronger than all the white noise in the world,” She gestured out the window, referring to the normals as white noise, “You’re stronger than your father, you’re stronger than Stuart, you’re stronger than Evelyn MacDonald. You’re so much stronger than anyone I know. You are holding the station together, you are holding the show together, so please, please, don’t let go.”

He nodded and cupped her cheek, stroking her soft skin with the pad of his thumb, “Why’d you wait until now to talk? You’ve been here for weeks and according to Stuart, you haven’t spoken in eight months and that was nearly two months ago, so ten.”

“You.” She said, “You were going to give up. Don’t. Please, don’t.”

“You’re talking… because of me. To encourage me?” He asked, touched and surprised that she cared for him that much.

She nodded and touched her forehead against his as she spoke softly, “You are more brilliant and talented than your dad ever could imagine. He doesn’t understand your disorder, he doesn’t see how brilliant it is. You know creative people are twenty times more likely to be manic-depressives? Creative people are more likely to be loonies.” Campbell chuckled softly, loving the sound of her voice and the passion twinkling in her E/C-colored eyes as she placed his headphones around his neck. “You have ambition, genius, loyalty, and compassion that doesn’t even rival your father’s by a long shot. Your disorder reminds you to relate to others and know when they’re struggling. You saw me. My parents only sent me here because I refused to talk but you knew there was more than that. They never did. And I see you and I understand you and I accept you.”

Campbell had tears of joy in his eyes and he pulled her towards him, hugging her, making her straddle him so not to be in an awkward angle, she stiffened before relaxing, hugging him back.

She turned her head to whisper into his ear, “And I have a plan.” She pulled away and looked into his brown eyes, “How’s your acting?”

Campbell raised an eyebrow at her before getting distracted, “I thought I broke the headphones, I threw but these aren’t broken.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s…” She nodded to the floor where he spotted her headphones now broken.

“Oh, shit! I broke your headphones, don’t-don’t worry, I’ll replace them.”

"Campbell... the plan." She reminded him.

"Oh, right, right... what's your plan?" He asked.

Y/n leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, however he didn't get a single word from being too distracted by their closeness.

"Could you say all that again? I didn't get any of that."

--

Campbell started the show the next day with Y/N as Eddie was a bit late but anyways, it was his show today—his last show.

As This Ole House by Rosemary Clooney played, the patients danced outside the station and Campbell, looking more restrained and calmer than usual. He also seemed deeper and more lost in thought than his usual spur-of-the-moment, impulsive, didn’t-think-this-through self. They sorted through the records and looked at the ones that Y/N handed him as she spoke softly with her back to the others so they couldn’t see and take her away now that they knew for certain she could talk because then she’d miss this and she didn’t want to miss this.

“What about Tears for Fears’ Mad World? It’s one of my favorites.” She suggested, holding up the 1983 song. “It can explain a looney’s tiredness of the world around us. To everyone else, we’re the ones that are mad but to us it’s the everyone else in the whole world that’s mad.

“Mmm. Great choice but I think some people are going to be a little bit depressed already with what I’m going to do.”

“Or I could play it after you leave.” She shrugged.

“Oh, you trying to take over my show, L/N.” He teased, spinning his swivel chair to her.

“Maybe, I am, Bain. What are you going to do about it?” She teased back.

The song ended and Campbell took over as Eddie entered, “This is Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes show, and I hope everyone in this old house is tuned in and ready to rock and roll.” Y/N pushed the button and the Looney Tunes jingle played as Eddie gave Campbell a proud smile, being far more supportive to him than his dad ever was, “That's right, because it's time for the Looney Tunes show, and I want you dancing, loonies, I want you singing along, I want you clapping your hands and stamping your feet! If there's a strange voice in your head, get it to sing along! If there's a catatonic sitting next to you, WAKE ‘EM UP!” Y/N giggled at his antics, making him give her a grin, “This is for all of you having ECT tomorrow; I hope you get some good vibrations.”

He started playing Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys and grinned at Y/N as that was one of her suggestions which he rather liked as it resonated with his feelings for her.

Outside the stations as per usual, Hector sang along to the lyrics of the song into a spoon while as per usual Alastair was annoyed that they were interrupting his TV time

Campbell put the fader on, so the song faded out and he spoke into the microphone again, “Well, I suppose you're all wondering why I asked you here tonight. As you may know, this is the fourth and last Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes show. The good news is that it's because I'm being discharged. The bad news is, I'm gonna be living in Perth. And our first competition tonight was to find a special dedication to the town of Perth. And the winner is Margaret on Ward eleven, and she dedicated this song to the town of Perth.”

He started playing We Gotta Get Out of This Place by the Animals. He looked at Y/N and winked, giving her the signal while forcing himself not to look happy or manipulative. She smiled, then she leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek before leaving to join Fergus and Eddie and actually spoke to them, “He's hot the night.”

They did a double take at her but she wouldn’t say anything else when she was questioned about it as she closed the door, watching Campbell with amusement at what was going to happen and because his cheeks were now bright red.

Campbell waited a minute so that her leaving right before wouldn’t seem planned before taking his headphones off and looked at the studio door, as he pieced together what he was going to do. He walked over to the studio door and locked the door, locking eyes with Y/N.

Fergus and Eddie exchanged looked before Campbell walked over to the record player and pulled the tonearm off the record with a scratch and he sat back down, placing his headphones back over his ears and spoke in a manic pace of voice, “Ach, that's no dance music, is it? We're supposed to be rockin' an' rollin'! Because we are loonies and we are proud! I'm a manic-depressive and I'm proud, my friends. Some of the greatest geniuses in history have been manic-depressives on a manic roll! Vincent van Gogh, Handel, Schumann—”

Outside the station, Isabel the only good nurse apparently opened the medicine cabinet to see that Campbell hadn’t taken his pills and then looked over towards the studio door, concerned, given how severe his episodes could become if untreated.

“Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Spike Milligan, Vivien Leigh—” Campbell continued, “that is one hundred percent true, folks—and this is for all you manic-depressives out there; we are loonies and we are proud!” Then he let out a sort of shout/howl, “AAAOOOOW!”

Then he put on Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher by Jackie Wilson and the patients continued dancing while Alastair yanked the spoon from Hector’s hand and then sat back down, grinning triumphally as Hector frowned.

He exited the day room, only to run into Y/N who handed him a new spoon. He grinned and started to sing along into it. She walked into Alastair’s view who was frowning in disbelief at her as she gave him a sarcastic smile and then gave him the middle finger before taking Hector’s arm and leading him out of the day room and to the hall so Hector wouldn’t take the second spoon away from him too.

“Have you ever noticed how much mental illness imagery there is in popular music? Tonight our guest on the Looney Tunes show is professor of musicology, Doctor Boogie!” Then Campbell started to speak in bad German accent… or Romania given how he was pronouncing some words… somewhere near Transylvania where Dracula lived, “Aye, aye, in the popular music we find much imagery of ze mental illness, indicating an underlying fear and faskination vith madness. For example…” He started to play A World Without Love by Peter and Gordon.

“He's away.” Fergus said, a bit concerned.

He stopped the song with another record scratch, Campbell’s voice seemed to be increasing speed, “And this expresses the deep anxiety about going a little bit crazy, huh? Another example is…”

The needle scratched on the record and Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis. “This expresses the deep anxiety about going a lotcrazier with a,” His eyes were bugging out of his head and waggling his fingers, manically and Y/N had to force herself not to giggle at how he looked, “pyromaniac overtones. And then again in a song like—"

A less prominent record scratch before Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones played,“—We see a fascination with obsessive behavior. And some songs provoke the greatest fears of all, in this case—”

He took the needle off without a scratch this time and then he played Sugar, Sugar by the Archies.

“—the tvin fears of abject mediocrity and of writing crap songs. Ah ja! But zen of course—” Campbell said, still speaking in the odd Central to Eastern European accent as Eddie finally tried the door, only to find it locked., “—there is, uh—"

He started playing Da Doo Ron Ron by the Crystals as Isabel and two assistants (thankfully not Stuart) hurried down the corridor. He dropped the accent, “—which has got nothing to do with loonies, but it's a great song!”

He glanced at Y/N with the silent message of: should I up the mania? She subtly nodded, he flashed her a grin as he tore off his headphones, “Whoa! I'm sweating! I'm just going to open a window.” He went to the window and opened it as Margaret from Ward eleven bit her thumbnail with concern, Campbell stuck his head out of the window and looked around, “Whoa! It's a long way down from this window, but I'm so high I'll bet I could fly.”

Eddie growing more and more concerned now that Campbell seemed to be threatening suicide or at least several shattered bones, banged his open palm on the studio door window glass.

“Oh, cue the song, cue the song!” Campbell shouted as he put on Fly Like an Eagle by Steve Miller Band.

“Jesus, Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

Campbell leapt on the windowsill and Y/N shifted as this was getting a bit too close for her but surprisingly she trusted Campbell and saw that he was clutching onto the bottom of window sash frame as he shouted enthusiastically and manically into the microphone

“What do you think, boys and girls? Do you think if we close our eyes and say ‘I do believe in magic’ that Peter Pan will really be able to fly?” Everyone was concern by now, realizing how serious Campbell’s episode was by now as he pushed the window sash up a little more and Y/N smacked the window, making him look over as she gave him a message like, don’t be so manic that you kill yourself because then I will kill you! “Let's try it, eh!?” He turned away from the window, locking eyes with Y/N through the floppy bangs in his brown eyes,“I do believe in magic.” Then he shouted, loudly, stepping away from the window thankfully, “COME ON! I DO BELIEVE IN MAGIC!”

Isabel pushed her way through the concern crowd to the door, Y/N refused to move out of the way.

“Oh, they're coming to get me, folks! They're coming to get your very own Campbell Bain! BUT WAIT!” He shouted, throwing his hand out, “Wait, I've got the perfect song!” He ran to the record player and scratched the record off as Isabel pounded on the door with her palm, finding it locked as he scratched on They're Coming to Take Me Away Ha-Ha by Jerry Samuels.

“Oh, yes, we're really seeing some action now, Brian!” Campbell shouted, his voice getting even faster, Y/N was sure that not even the Doctor from Doctor Who could talk that fast, he put his fingertips to the top of the shell of his ear, like a sports commentary, speaking into an earpiece, commentating what was happening as he saw it to those who were only listening, “Oh, the nursing staff have been at a temporary disadvantage, but I think they're beginning to get the upper hand now! YES! They found the spare key! It may be all over soon, and,” The key couldn’t turn due to the first key being in on the other side of the lock, “Oh, nooo!” He dramatically fell to his knees, “the key's in the lock from the inside and there's not a thing they can do about it!” Then he spotted Stuart approaching, “Oh, wait! Oh, it’s wee Stuart's got something, and he's not happy. If he can't break through the doors then I don't think anyone can.” Stuart aggressively pushed Y/N to the side which made her scream and fight back, suddenly, punching Staurt and clawing his skin off, “He tried to manhandle Y/N and she’s not happy; he’s made her angry! He’s pressed her trauma button!” Isabel then pulled her away and she immediately calmed down, “Ah, Isabel to the rescue.” Stuart then smashed the studio door window with a fire extinguisher, making Y/N flinch violently.

“YES! He's done it! He's broken the glass! And he's in! Wait, I haven't told you my loonies joke yet!” He shouted as Stuart and another assistant grabbed a hold of Campbell, picking him up as he continued to tell his joke at full speed, “This loony walks into a pub with his dog. The barman says, ‘Can't be any dogs in here, bud.’ But the loony tells him ‘it's a talking dog’, and he says to him ‘Look, if he can answer three questions, can he stay in the bar?’ ‘Let's see it.’ So the guy says to the dog, says, ‘What's the texture of sandpaper?’ And the dog says, ‘Rough.’ And then the loony guy asks, ‘Who was Scotland's goalkeeper in the 1978 World Cup?’ And the dog says, ‘Rough’.” The crowd followed them as Stuart carried Campbell, even Alistair had gotten up from the TV to watch with concern, “And then, ‘Who was the greatest American baseball player of all time?’ And the dog says, ‘Ruth.’ The barman's definitely not impressed. He grabs the guy by the collar and throws him into the street.” They brought Campbell into the treatment room with Isabel stopping Eddie and Y/N from following them in.

They slammed Campbell against a wall roughly, making Y/N flinch as Campbell, now slightly disorientated from the impact done to his head, repeated the last sentence he said, “Then he grabs the dog by the collar—” They pulled his jeans down, leaving him in his underwear, making Y/N flinch, violently as he continued to tell the joke, “—and throws him into the street. They slammed him aggressively against the treatment table, making Y/N flinch again, “And as they're lying in the gutter the wee dog looks up with tears in his eyeee—!” He cried out in brief pain as Isabela jabbed the needle into his buttock cheek with the sedative, making Y/N flinch. He was quiet for a few moments as the sedative took effect, making him drowsy and relaxed and then he spoke in a much more slower speech to finish his joke, “The wee dog looks up with tears in his eyes and he says... ‘DiMaggio...?"

He chuckled at the joke before succumbing to the sedative as Eddie watched ruefully and Y/N guiltily through the window before walking back to the station. She stepped through the glass and sat down, “Hello, this is Y/N, sorry for the craziness but our Campbell Bain has suffered a violent mania attack thanks to his father’s closed-mind, judgmental, disappointment in his DJ career, neglect, and general awfulness about him. So, I fucking hope you’re happy, Mister Bain, you think your son is the only looney in the family, you likely made him that way. This next song is Mad World.”

She played the song as Eddie looked at her through the window. A little bit later, she spoke again, “The last song of the day will be Bang and Blame, dedicated to all pathetic waste of spaces that are abusive parents, once again Mister Bain, thank you for making your son ‘unwell’ as you put it and putting pressure on him to find a job like you have such high standards, you road sweeper.” She played song as she looked through the window to see Stuart and Isabel waiting for the song to be over so they could deal with her and the fact that she’s talking.

--

The next day, Eddie walked in to see Campbell still groggy from the sedative with Y/N by his bed in the same clothes as yesterday, holding his hand. He was awake and they were just looking at each other in a comfortable silence.

Campbell groggily looked at Eddie to see him in a suit and in a slow yet facetious tone said, “What's this? Did somebody die?”

Y/N fetched a glass of water and made him drink it, he resisted at first more just to be a nuisance than anything but gave in and complied as Eddie chuckled and said, “I came from work. Big day today.”

“Ooh, did your boss get fired for overworking his employees? Or drop dead from exhaustion because he’s working seven days a week?” Y/N asked, sardonically yet with a cheerful tone.

Eddie chuckled again yet not sure if he liked it better when she didn’t speak, considering he was finding out she was a very sarcastic and sardonic person. to vastly contrast Campbell's personification of sunshine-ness. He pointed to his tie tack, “Salesman of the Month.”

“Salesman of the Month, eh?” Campbell asked in disbelief.

“What were the other salesmen like?” Y/N teased.

“How are you?” Eddie asked Campbell.

“Great. Y/N slept with me last night, yet I still remain a virgin. He teased and Y/N slapped his shoulder, playfully as he smirked, cheekily, “Saw my shrink this morning. He says I'm definitely not stable yet.” Y/N grinned and leaned down, pressing it against Campbell’s hand to hide it while pressing a kiss to it. “They're, uh, going to keep me in another six to ten weeks.” He briefly got distracted from the hand kiss, “Do you realize how much we could make of that station in six to ten weeks? Anything's possible now. And Y/N could be my protégé, now that she speaks again.” He wanted to ruffle her hair but his limbs felt like lead, so he just let out a half-hearted noise of not-really exertion.

“Aye, well. If you think you're up to it. Both of you.” Eddie told them.

Campbell looked at Y/N like, can I tell him. And she nodded, enthusiastically.

“Great acting, eh?” Campbell grinned as Y/N giggled.

Eddie looked confused as both teenaged patients looked up at him, then they both winked out of sync and it dawned unto Eddie that there was no manic episode. That’s why Y/N had left the room just before the “episode” started, why she remained calm up until Campbell was fake-threatening-implying to jump out of the window, why Campbell kept looking at her during the episode, why Y/N had looked so guilty and then blamed Campbell’s father like she had rehearsed it.

“It was Y/N’s idea. She’s an evil genius.” He smiled at Y/N before looking back at Eddie, “We’ve beat them, guys. I'll beat the bastards.”

After Eddie left, Campbell looked at Y/N as she climbed back in the bed with him just like she had last night and cuddled next to him letting the blanket act as a barrier of platonic intimacy between them, she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped a loose arm around his covered waist.

It was silent for a little bit before she moved her hand so it went to Campbell’s hand, resting on top of it and she stroked Campbell’s hand with her thumb.

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“As long as I could. They wouldn’t let me in at first but I kept finding ways in. I needed to be by your side.” She said, “They kept pulling me out, especially when I started shouting… well, it was more like whisper-shouting due to my likely atrophied vocal chord and they tried to take me away to some shrink but I wouldn’t let them. Eventually, they gave up and let me stay with you.” She whispered, “as you know, I slept next to you. I’m sorry if my plan hurt you.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He asked and he managed to shift so his arm was on the other side of her and able to just barley touch her waist and to her surprise she didn’t flinch. She felt him move his head and press a kiss to the top of her head and again, she surprised herself by not flinching.

She was surprised herself on how this little, hyperactive, persistent kid had somehow gotten past her guarded defense walls, gotten under the wire, despite all her efforts to forevermore keep another heart from touching hers, the one she tried so hard to hide in the past ten months. She had been successful until Campbell Bain had crashed into her two months ago.

But the last time, she had trusted someone to be their best friend, she got hurt and was violated and therefore traumatized into a nearly year-long muteness.

There is a couple Doctor Who references. One straight out states it and the other is a reference to a quote from the Tenth Doctor in Fear Her.

There's also a reference to a line from Queer as Folk, but I've never seen this show but I have heard the audio clips of this scene in fan videos.

Personal Mental Heath Rant (Skip if you don't care)

Sorry for being tough on Campbell's dad but I have severe ADHD (since I was three and getting worse with ever presistent pessmisstic criticism I'm given), Anxiety, Depression, and possibly two ambigious and debatable types dylexia and if complexes count an inferiority and guilt complex and I have spent my whole life being shouted at for seeing things differently, for seeing that there is no metaphoric box to think in, for focusing on so many things at once that it's just as useful as not focusing on anythingat all and so people think that I', not even trying, for being overwhelmed with tasks that are so simple to everyone else yet near impossible for me (due to being yelled at my entire life for everything I did. I was once shouted at for about or over thirty minutes because I didn't put something down right after I was told to do so becuase I was so terrified of the person who shouted at me, I was convinced they were one meltdown from turning verbal abuse to physical abuse though then I would be able to call the cops of them, I tried to see the silver lining in my own dark and twisted way of thinking). People expect me to act like I don't have a disorder or they treat me like I'm stupid because apparently I'm the one with the issue rather than them googling the symtoms (IT'S FOUR LETTERS) and try putting themselves in my shoes. (My mom once told me that ADHD was not a learning disorder; techinically she's right because IT'S SO MUCH MORE THAN JUST A LEARNING DISORDER! It can affect your entire life and shouting at me is just making it worst! But I have to be the calm one and force my temper down. Somehow I'm the most patient persn in the house in terms of temper. How!?

I have been forced to try and learn and study to only two type of intelligence rather than the one I understand best I have been forced to try and think socieity's way of thinking when my mind just doesn't work like that. I'm literally wired differently.

(About the "ambiguous and debateable types of dyslexia, I was tested for Bipolar when I was young and somehow they got I was dylexia because I kept drawing lines in the opposite directions that they told me and if you were to give me directions, it would be like in a cartoon when a character spins an arrow sign and it points in like every direction at once just indicates "Directional Dyslexia" or "Left-Right Confusion" but I don't like that term as it sounds like I have the intellect and common sense of a first grader who can't tell the difference from right and left.

 A few years ago, I went to the therapist and I was diagnosed with a math learning disorder but wasn't told what kind so I went to my most knowledgeable ally: Google! And the only one I can find is Dyscalculia which is basically math dyslexia. In my head, it's like some astronauts in a kid's game or show is placing number down in outer space but the moment I let go of them, they float away and I can't place more than two down, I can barely think about numbers without getting a headache as if I'm trying to understand time travel.

These two types of dyslexia I suspect I have, have been debated on whether or not they're an actual form of dyslexia

So I haven't been "officially" diagnosed with these but I'm not just saying, "hey, I have trouble with (insert dyslexia-induced trouble), maybe I'm dyslexic too", I hate that (Like don't say "I get distracted too, maybe I'm ADHD"), I have sufficient reason to believe this.

[cainluvr69]

Final Chapter - 22.11 - What I Saw That Night

Previous Chapter

****TL Note: just want to say before we get into it that every single character is in their jammies in this chapter

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: Haah… I'm so tired. I think I'll turn in early tonight. C'mere, Saku-chaaaan.

Sacrificium: … …!

Akira: Saku-chan?

✦✧☾✧✦

Oz: …

Nova: Oz.

Oz: …! <Vox Nox>! …!

Mithra: Hah?

Oz: ……

Mithra: Hey, don't just summon someone and then…you're already asleep…

Oz: …

Mithra: …Oz…? …Is all of that blood…his…?

Nova: It's been a while, Mithra.

Mithra: …! <Arthim>! …?! My doors aren't opening outside the manor?!

Mithra: …Wake up, Oz! <Arthim>!

✦✧☾✧✦

Rutile: Huh? What happened to Mithra? He's vanished.

Riquet: Did he get bored and leave?

Mitile: Didn't he say he had some good cards in his hand?

Rutile: Wah…!

Mitile: Parts of the roof are falling!

Riquet: I believe the rooms at the top of the manor above us are Oz's and Owen's… Should I go tell them to quiet down?

Rutile: Maybe Mithra went to visit one of them? I wonder if I can see him from the window…

Figaro: Everyone, get down!

Mitile: Dr. Figaro?!

Figaro: <Possideo>…!

Riquet: Waah…!

Rutile: There's something outside the window…?!

Figaro: Artificial wizards…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Rustica: Wah…

Chloe: Woah…that startled me. That was from the top floor, right? Do you think the Northern wizards are getting in a fight?

Rustica: …

Chloe: …Rustica? Do you want me to go check out the top floor?

Rustica: Chloe, stay next to me.

Lennox: You both need to run…!

Chloe: Huh…?! Waah…?!

Rustica: <Amores Viesse>

Lennox: <Forsettao Meiuvat>

Lennox: They're coming from the southern side of the manor! Escape out the window into the courtyard…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Shylock: Oh my, the manor is shaking. What could those naughty children be doing this time of night?

Murr: Fireworks! Fireworks?

Shylock: How lively. We've only just returned home today, so they should be more…

Shylock & Murr: …!

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>!

Shylock: <Inviebelle>

Faust: …!

Shylock: Faust?!

Faust: …Get out the window! Hurry…!

Murr: Did something slam you into the wall?

Faust: …Yes, something I never wanted to see again!

Faust: <Salliuqnart Mulcredo>!

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: Master Sage…!

Cain: Are you okay?! There was a huge noise…

Akira: Arthur, Cain! Something's upsetting Saku-chan! Something's really wrong…

Nova: …

Arthur: …! Who are you? State your name. Long white hair, and a scar over the left eye… No, it can't be…

Cain: …White hair…

Nova: You.

Akira: …!

Nova: Are you the new Sage?

Akira: …Ah…

Shino: Sage! Are you okay?!

Heathcliff: …! Nova…!

Akira: …! This is Nova…?!

Nova: It's wonderful to meet you, beloved Sage.

Akira: Wahhhh…!

Arthur: Watch out! Master Sage…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Mithra: <Arthim> …This is the third one. How many are there?! Tch…! And here's another one!

Owen: <Cure Memini>

Mithra: Owen!

Bradley: What's goin' on?!

Nero: Oz…!

Painting Snow: Goodness!

Painting White: Are they after Oz?!

Nero: Brad, Mithra, Owen! Can I leave Oz to you guys?!

Mithra: What?!

Nero: If this many of 'em managed to sneak in here, the kids are in danger! Snow, White, we're moving!

Bradley: It looks like all the lil' ones are in the courtyard! I can snipe through the window and cover them!

Nero: Do that!

Painting Snow: We must hurry! Faust only barely defeated one of these artificial wizards!

Painting White: The young wizards will be turned to stone…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: Waah…!

Shino: Sage!

Heathcliff: Prince Arthur, Cain! Take Master Sage to the courtyard!

Arthur: Got it! Nova's hidden himself! Both of you, be careful!

Shino: I know! Look after the Sage!

Cain: Akira, I'm going to carry you!

Akira: …!

Heathcliff: <Repsev Aivulp Sunos>

Shino: <Matzah Sudipas>

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: They're swarming from that direction, too…!

Cain: How many are there?!

Arthur: …Cain, move! I'll be their opponent! <Pernoctant Nixzo>!

Cain: …Master Sage! Don't let go!

Shylock: Cain, Master Sage! Are you unhurt?!

Lennox: Don't stop moving! It's going to fire that beam…! Don't let it hit you!

Cain: …Aghhh…!

Akira: …ah…Cain…!

Lennox: There's another coming from that way!

Faust: We're going to get caged in! I'll stop them here somehow! All of you, get to the dining hall!

Cain: …gh, I'll stay here too! Shylock! Murr! Take the Sage and run!

Shylock: Understood! Master Sage, this way…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: Shylock, Murr!

Rustica: Use magic to hide the Sage and take them to the bar on the second floor.

Akira: Chloe, Rustica…!

Rustica: You don't need to worry about us. Shylock, Murr, if you'd please.

Murr: Gotcha…!

Shylock: We're going…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Figaro: <Possideo>

Mitile: Dr. Figaro, you're so strong…! I'll help protect everyone, too! <Scintilla>!

Riquet: Mitile, watch out!

Mitile: Huh?!

Rutile & Figaro: …Mitile…!

Snow & White: <Noscomnia>!

Rutile: Lords Snow and White!

Nero: <Adnodis Omnis>!

Riquet: Nero! Nero…!

Nero: Are you okay, Riquet?!

Riquet: Nero, behind you…!

Nero: …! <Adno…>

Bradley: <Adnopotensum>! Don't cluster! They'll circle you! C'mon, scatter…!

Figaro: Take care of Riquet! Mitile, Rutile, this way!

Nero: Got it! C'mon, Riquet…!

Riquet: Okay…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: …The flames are spreading…

Rustica: Stay close to me, Chloe.

Nova: That will be difficult.

Rustica: …Ahhh…!

Chloe: Rustica, Rustica! Why did you do that to him?!

Nova: …

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>!

Nova: …Haha…

Murr: …Uwaah…!

✦✧☾✧✦

I could distantly hear everyone's screams. I'd had magic placed on me to hide me from sight, and I was huddled in a corner of the bar. Shylock had his pipe at the ready, his face taut. Nova had appeared before him… …with a badly injured Murr, broken and discarded like garbage.

Shylock: …Murr…!

His expression stiffened even further. But he flicked me a glance and smiled as if to say everything would be okay. He was going to keep me safe. Shylock stood opposite Nova and laughed, looking for all the world that he was calm and composed.

Shylock: Well now… I suppose I can indulge you. Shall we?

Everything sounded far away. Shylock suddenly fell to his knees, gripping his chest, his body curling in on itself in pain. His injury from <the Great Calamity>. His heart was set aflame, just like everything else in the manor was.

Shylock: …kh…

His face was twisted in agony. Sparks fell from between his fingers, inviting ever more destruction into the manor. Nova stepped towards Shylock, silently but purposefully. This was, I was sure, what the Reaper's footsteps sounded like. I wanted to rush out and help him, but I had no strength in my body anymore. All I could do was continue to hide unseen in the corner, without letting my screams or sobs be heard.

Akira: (Shylock…!)

Nova knelt down and reached towards Shylock. He was going to kill him. But when that thought passed through my brain… Nova pressed his hand against the flames at Shylock's chest. The look in his eyes as he watched Shylock's face was frighteningly gentle. It meant something. Surely the softness of his gaze meant something. The flames upon Shylock's chest slowly, gradually, began to die down in Nova's palm. With all the kindness of someone treating his wounds.

Shylock: …What…?

I was called the Sage, but I hadn't been able to do anything for him. Oz was called the world's strongest wizard, but he hadn't, either. But Nova had granted Shylock's wish. And then he simply disappeared.

Akira: …Huh…?

✦✧☾✧✦

Nova and his artificial wizards had all vanished in the blink of an eye. Even Oz had managed to hang on despite the severity of his wounds. Arthur was grieving over his wounds, and the Northern wizards were trembling. What had they come here for? Why?

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow: What a terrible sight… When Oz wakes up tomorrow morning, we shall have him clean everything up.

White: His wounds have always healed quickly. He'll be all better by tomorrow.

Arthur: Lord Oz…

Heathcliff: Oh, Prince Arthur… You must be so worried about him…

Owen: They left things half-finished. They almost kill Oz, they almost kill the Sage, and then they just leave? What in the world did they come here for?

Snow: That's a very good question…

Snow & White: Ah…!

Akira: Snow, White?!

Arthur: Where are you going?!

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow: It's not here…!

White: It's vanished…!

Lennox: If something's missing, then… Did they steal it?

Riquet: First they leave the manor in such a terrible state, and then they resort to petty thievery on top of that? Unforgivable.

Akira: Snow, White. Just what is it that's gone missing?

Snow: Surely you should recognize it.

White: They took the Goblet of Judgment.

The Goblet of Judgment. That was… That was what I'd used in the ritual to summon new Sage's wizards.

Akira: … But why…?

✦✧☾✧✦

Murr: …

Murr: What a naughty one you are, sneaking about like this in the middle of the night.

Murr: Shh. I'm here to steal the Sage's jacket.

Murr: They'll be worried, you know. If such a tragedy played out within their very room, and they were powerless to stop it? Goodness.

Murr: This isn't a tragedy.

Murr: Mu…

Murr: Monch. Gulp. … This is a poor excuse for a comedy.

[thecoffeelorian]

The Transport On The Left, #5

Title:  The Transport On The Left

Chapter:  Five

Genre:  Drama/Mystery

Word Count:  1.1 k.

Characters Included:  Wrecker, Captain Rex, and Commander Wolffe.

Brief Description:

"Does it make him a giant nerfherder to wish for something else besides working for scraps from others who don’t exactly enjoy his company, let alone having to stare down the barrel of what’s left of his life and spend it in total maddening silence?

Or should he just swallow all these feelings down like they’re a tasty milkshake from Dex’s Diner, force a smile, and go on doing whatever Hunter wants…?"

AO3: Link Here

No-Pressure Tags: @theosb0rnway @skellymom @gun-roswell @called-me-vicky @momojedi

@littlefeatherr @storminormins @thesmollestnerd @ilovemedia @sunshinesdaydream

@theta11lili @random-user753 @donut1642 @victorianretrogeek @thats-cacti

@gray-paladin @turkishfreak101 @idkwhatdoyouwannabecalled @riverside-of-neverland @wendywilliamsleftlip

@carlycrays @danger-noodles22 @lightninged @ladylienda @marvel-starwarsfangirl

@serinzatravel-blog @archaicsymbols @melymigo @wanderneverlost @spacemagicandlaserswords

@i-dont-know-how-this-site-works @moonstrider9904 @yeehawgeek and anyone else looking for a story where nobody dies.

Special Notes: This divider was created by @djarrex , and so I give all credit to her. :)

One // Two // Three // Four // Five// Six

Five

They’re gonna yell at you for stormin’ out like that.

Let ‘em yell all they want.

Hunter doesn’t like it when you do your elopement thing.

Hunter can deal with it just like everybody else.

Wrecker’s steps echo a bit too loud in the station’s corridor as he walks, a somewhat achy reminder that this station has, unfortunately, lost its purpose in life. Once, it held the solid position of tending to the wounded of the G.A.R., and as such could see up to two hundred Troopers a day if the fighting grew that heavy.

Nowadays, however, even though it’s got enough supplies for the welfare of around two battalions, it’s lucky to see a grand total of ten Troopers or less. Maybe that’s the amount of people in here right now, because even with his bad ear, Wrecker hardly hears anyone else out here besides himself. That’s got to be a good thing, then, because it means less chance of discovery and attack by any unwanted visitors, sure…but then again, it also means there’s almost nobody to talk to.

Especially not when the good Captain’s team of rescuers delivered Crosshair into their hands one minute; then had to go off to a different area of the station the next. Not when they’re still waiting for the grand return of AZI-3, as well as the chance of putting at least one unsolved mystery to rest.

Still…would it really have hurt Cap so much to stick around for more than a few minutes?!

Wrecker lets out a loud sigh and plops himself down in front of the nearest skyhole, his annoyance fizzling up ever so slightly. Okay, so he DID lie about going to find Fireball, but then again, he could cut the tension in that hospital room with a lightsaber, so he had to get out of there FAST. After all, he needs more to do lately, even if he won’t say such things out loud.

On the one hand, yeah, he IS happy to do other things besides fight and blow things up all the time. He’s finally bought his own paint set with the credits Cid managed to toss his way, so obviously, he’s learnin’ how to use ‘em. Already he’s tried his hand at painting a few tookas on the walls of the Marauder—red and black, of course, although he won’t exactly say no to the other colors as well—and so far, everyone seems to approve. Kriff, even Tech got so excited over his new talent that he almost dropped his datapad to get a closer look, and Tech NEVER puts that thing down. That has to count for SOMETHING.

On the other hand, though…painting and scrapping for barely fifty credits apiece seems to be ALL that he’s good for lately, because not only has he NOT had a good brawl in ages, but unfortunately, there’s been almost NO explosions whatsoever…and honestly?

The lack of any real action is becoming just so…BORING!

And if he has to be honest with himself, which he WILL—Wrecker really and truly MISSES IT.

He misses the way he and the rest of the boys could push their way through enemy lines with nothing but sheer determination and a really big ship door.

He also misses how, even though some of the locations they were dispatched to looked nothing but impregnable, they always managed to find their way in and out with barely a scratch gained in return.

And third, but certainly not least, he misses—other people. Other Troopers who not only could back his squad up in times of trouble, but also WOULD lend a hand without ever thinking twice about it. Is it SO wrong of him, then, to want SOME part of this to come back in his life?

Does it make him a giant nerfherder to wish for something else besides working for scraps from others who don’t exactly enjoy his company, let alone having to stare down the barrel of what’s left of his life and spend it in total maddening silence?

Or should he just swallow all these feelings down like they’re a tasty milkshake from Dex’s Diner, force a smile, and go on doing whatever Hunter wants…?

It’s about a minute or two later when Wrecker starts hearing voices coming from down the hall, two in total, and they sound kinda annoyed with each other. Does this mean Captain Rex is circling back around…? It might be great if he did! At least he might have somebody to vent to about his thoughts, then—that is, if Cap isn’t too busy with anything first!

“—don’t understand why—have commed—while, SIR.”

“We’ve—through this, Wolffe—utmost secrecy…”

And that’s just without the added bonus of getting to hear something, ANYTHING, about all of the Trooper rescue efforts going on behind the scenes. How wizard would THAT be if he did…?!

“I am sorry—Venator disaster, don’t get me—but it’s better if—things are kept—”

“—Who’s. There.”

All three of the men in this hall—Wrecker, Captain Rex, and a second Commander who also looks like he’s missing one eye—immediately fall still and silent, their respective focus turning to size the others up.

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t believe we asked for eavesdroppers.”

Wrecker himself suddenly gets the feeling he’s standing before that nexu back on Saleucami, only this time, it’s learned to take on Trooper form so that it can catch human prey ten times easier.

At least, that’s the way he reads the room until Cap steps forward, one hand raised in a calming gesture.

“Easy, Wolffe, he’s a friend.”

“You’re SURE.”

“Yes. Wrecker’s—friend of Echo’s, so by association…”

“…He’s a friend of ours.”

“Correct. Now, could you PLEASE stand down…?”

Wrecker swears that he sees Wolffe’s mouth twist into a downward turn of disapproval, a lot of Troopers had done that to him before—yet, thankfully, he also must have thought things over as well, for the next thing he knew, Wolffe had let some of the tension out of the room by taking two steps back.

“There we are...thank you, Commander.”

A collective sigh spreads around the little gathering there, and Wrecker can’t help but grin a little in relief. Things are tense enough everywhere, he knows, so obviously he doesn’t want to make any rough situations even worse.

“Yeah…thanks, Commander! Er…d’ you want me to go back with the others?”

“Well, I’m afraid that depends, Trooper. What brings you out here?”

The time has come, he thinks with a little shudder, taking in a quick breath and then breathing it out again. It’s now or never, Master Billaba give me strength...

Wrecker stood up straight, made eye contact, and began to speak his peace.

[wwaestheticskatiestclaire]

Katie St. Claire had made a habit of watching her world die. The dreams she’d had the previous night were no different, but she naively hoped it would just be another dream. She scowled into the cold of the night, staring at her ceiling of frost covered branches. She took a deep breath, then another, soothed by the warm touch of her boys cuddling into her. She turned her head to look at Kyle, he seemed so peaceful in his sleep. 

In her dreams, it had been the opposite. She dreamt of a crack in reality and a long fingered hand clawing its way out of it. There had been a smile that stretched too wide across an almost human face and eye like a kaleidoscope that glittered with devilish glee as it picked up Kyle. It reminded her of that painting of wild eyed Cronus eating his young. 

She turned to look at Peter, as she carefully pried herself from underneath his and Kyle's arms. Peace  had placed itself across his face, but unlike Kyle’s this was a peace that had settled like the dust from rubble of a demolished building; Peter had cried himself to sleep again. 

“Shit,” Katie said under her breath. “He's been getting to you again, hasn't he, Petie?”

Gently, she kissed his forehead and tucked him in closer to Kyle. “Keep him safe for me, Starman,” she whispered as she began carefully getting up. It was unlikely he had heard it, but it warmed her heart when he pulled Peter closer. 

Then more flashes of the dreams. A maelstrom of space-time against the backdrop of nothingness, like an infinite web of spider webbing cracks in a never ending mirror. Peter cried her name in desperation as he fell forever into the endless void.

“I need to go for a walk.”

She took a deep breath of the crisp forest air, the sharp coldness of the winter frost already dissipating into the wet tones of spring. She closed her eyes to take it all in. This place had magic in its bones. It wasn't just the way the seasons changed as capriciously as the elves that called these woods home. It was the way it whispered to her, stoking her emotions from dying embers into a bonfire of feeling. But unlike her boys, the whispers weren't nearly as tempting.

“Boys,” She said, cocking a hip out and gesturing to a nearby tree. “Can’t just talk about their feelings. They gotta bottle it up and let a forest uncork ‘em. Am I right?” 

She winced at the Forest’s reply; a crippling silence that chilled her far more than the frost ever could.

“Tough crowd.”

 She continued to mutter under her breath and put on her boots as well as the piecemeal armor they had made from materials of the four different worlds they'd run to before this one. She carefully draped the violet colored cloak she'd stolen over her shoulders and gingerly pulled the hood low over her brow. She stiffened at the crackle of a branch underfoot, her palm aglow with purple flame as it aimed at the sound.

A child emerged from the woods, his ears were only slightly pointed and his impish face more humanly round than the jagged angular look of his kinsmen. His chlorophyll green hair and his crooked smile made the half elf look as though he were a plant turned into a human. Despite his appearance, Robin Goodfellow- Puck, to his friends- was one of the most powerful mages ever to have lived. 

“My lady,” he said quietly with a low bow. “I heard you enjoyed yourself last night.”

She pursed her lips. “I did, Puck. Thanks.”

His eyes twinkled humorously at her. “I heard you enjoyed yourself several times last night.”

Her lips twitched in faint amusement; despite his youthful appearance, Puck was one of the oldest people living in Broceliande. Had she not still been reeling from her dreams, she might've even laughed out loud at her mentor’s joke but she just wasn't in the mood.

“Uh oh,” Puck said. “What's wrong?”

“It's just the dreams again,” she replied.

“Uh huh. So, would now be a good time to tell you, you've got a visitor? Or should I wait?”

She shook her head. “Who the hell is it?”

Puck’s smile faltered, and for a split second the mischief in his eyes belied a sensation she'd never seen mar the half elf’s face; For the first time ever, Katie saw fear in Puck’s eyes. 

“Another Sealbearer. Knows about your dreams, stripped my wards. He says he wants to talk. Says he’s got a solution to your problem.”

Katie stiffened, she'd been dodging Sealbearers ever since she learned about them by accident from an old bookseller with the red beard, or more specifically from the book that Peter had stolen; the same book that haunted her dreams, whispering even louder than the forest ever could. It had predicted a faceless man would come and threaten her boys; It had promised he would kill them. So she decided to take them and run. 

“And what did you say?”

Puck smiled, but this time there was no humor in it. “What was I supposed to say? I said you'd talk to him.”

Katie flinched, her words more caustic than she had planned for them to be. “Really? No bargaining on my behalf?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “Contracts require a fair exchange of power, and a fair exchange this is not.”

Katie scowled at him. “...If anything goes wrong…”

Puck cut her off. “Nothing is going to go wrong. This time.”

“But if it does…”

“It won't.”

“BUT If IT DOES.. ” She paused, taking a deep breath. “...You get my boys out somewhere safe, okay?”

“I will see what I can do, but you can't run from him. He's… Em’Rhactn Fo Ed’tha.”

Katie's mind translated the Na’gramas tongue automatically and she winced.

'Merchant of Death. And if he's a Sealbearer, the title is probably literal.'

Puck smiled wanly. “Fortunately for you, he's actually here to help this time.”

She shook her head. “And what if I don't want his help?”

“You will.”

“But if I don't?”

“You need his help.”

“They're just dreams, right?”

Puck shook his head, his smile gone. “Dreams are never just dreams. Not even the fun ones where you can fly or are embarrassed because for some reason you’re pantless before The Oberon.”

Katie raised an eyebrow.

“The point is,” Puck continued. “Especially in Broceliande, Dreams are prophetic. And with the ones you've been having, you need all the help you can get.”

She sighed, annoyed that he was right, but utterly certain that this was something that would come back to bite her.

“Lead the way,” She told him, after what felt like the longest heartbeat of her life.

Puck nodded and clambered for a hidden ladder made of rope like vines and down the shaft of the stout ironwood tree that they'd made their home inside. She vaguely remembered Puck’s explanation about how he had a whole bunch of these across the forest to avoid becoming prey during his people’s hunts. She felt it ironic, that it hadn't mattered; She'd still become prey. 

It felt like forever, but they finally made it to a tunnel made from the branches of several willows carefully knit together.

At the far end of it, stood a young man her age with a cocky smirk and dark eyes hidden beneath a broad brimmed hat, his face was so indistinguishably ordinary that he might as well have had no face at all. The trench coat was well worn and dusty, with patches of both cloth and chainmail.

“Hello, Cousin” Corvus St. Claire said warmly. “I hear you've been having bad dreams. I can help with that.”

Katie didn't understand why Puck was so afraid of this man.

“Who are you?” She asked, confused. “What do you want?”

“We'll get into what I want later, little miss Tinkerbell, but as for who I am, well, you can call me Mr. Hand.”

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Steven Stone Masturbation Headcanons

Hehehehehe - to the anon who requested this, i wanna say a bigol' thanks! this was a lot of fun!

Obvs nsfw, just a lot of talk about male masturbation and some guilt and shame! reader is mentioned, they are gn! and genitals are not specified for 'em! Not proofread rip

NSFW under the cut

Despite being a grown-ass man

With a massive bank account, job, house(s), precious minerals, S/O etc.

Y’know, the usual stuff

Who regularly has and enjoys sex

Steven is so embarrassed about masturbating

It’s his upbringing he thinks

Maybe it was because he was a late bloomer?

Whatever the reason is, he feels an incredible sense of shame and guilt around the subject

Doesn’t stop him jerking it though

Not one to do it too often

Especially with you in his life now

Other than all the passion and intimacy that sex has, you just get him off much better than his hand ever could

Still he does masturbate from time to time

Sometimes he just needs a quick release without all the fuss of a fuck

Other times you’re not just around/up for it

Good stress relief until the guilt stresses him out again :(

Likes to do it in the shower, easy clean-up

Not really one for porn – a lot of it is too extreme for his taste, and it just lacks intimacy!

He’s a romantic at heart even for porn

Plus, he’d get distracted by continuity errors in the plot and in the background

Fingers himself occasionally, but mostly keeps to touching his dick

Yes, he has jerked off in a cave

Several actually

And in a bathroom at Devon

If anyone found out, he’d die

Ofc you know, and you love teasing him about it

When he’s traveling, he naturally masturbates more

He misses you so much – soul, body and mind

These hotel beds would be so much comfier if you were there and you just had sex in them

He often pretends his hand is a part of you wrapped around him instead

Likes to think of you riding him especially

Sometimes imagines you showing up to surprise him in a sexy outfit

You have yet to do this, but you should!

As much as the distance makes him crave you

He’s 100% not on board with sending nudes or explicit videos or videocalls

The risk would be too great

Plus he’d be super self-conscious!

Like does he look too skinny? Does this angle make his dick look silly? Does he look sexy to you like this?

Ah, he’d much rather just experience you in person

One thing he does love

Is the sound of your voice

Especially when it’s all breathy and sultry from sexual activity

So, he’d be totally into phone sex and audio recordings

And if you were to say… tell him how to touch himself

That would make him very happy and horny

He’d be definitely up for taking the more dominant role and guiding you over the phone

Please describe to him exactly how good you feel

Bonus points if you’re using a toy!

Something that involves masturbation that he’d really love to try

But he’s also super ashamed about

Is giving you a facial

Oh, the thought of you kneeling so expectantly in front of him

As he finishes on your face

His cum painting your lips and chin

Maybe even dripping down onto your chest

Drives him crazy

And if you ask him to give you one

Which is probably the only way this is gonna happen considering how embarrassed he is

He’d be dead

Seriously all the blood would just leave his vital organs and go straight to his dick

You’d still have to coax him a bit though, he’d be awkward

He’d ask you like four times if you’re sure, and that you don’t have to do it just for his sake

Once you do reassure him enough, you know he’s going to enjoy it

Has that image of you neatly stored in his spank-bank

Also he’d be very careful not to get it in your eyes/hair

And get you cleaned up right away

He was raised as a gentleman, he’s always doing his best to be respectful and considerate of you

Even when busting a nut on your face

[kellyscowboy]

lingering glances for the soft gestures prompts for whoever you’re vibing with <33 - @fluffydavey

oh my god this has been in my drafts since may 8th, i am so so sorry omg || the prompts

Jack can't keep things to himself. He can't keep a secret, he can't stop smacking his friends playfully, and he can't keep his eyes on anything but Davey. Which is truly the last place they need to be, considering the circumstances of the strike.

He means to just look at David, but his innocent glances quickly turn into borderline stares. Even when the boy is mad at him, and he wants to turn away from him defiantly, he can't stop his eyes from eyeing him.

The two stay up late making signs for the others. Jack had suggested it. "The younger boys needa get their rest, they gotta long day 'head of 'em tomorrow," He had said. Truth be told, all of the newsboys had stayed up longer for stupider reasons and still woke up for even longer days. But David didn't need to know that.

As the night grew later, their writing became sloppier and Jack cared less about his wandering eyes. He watched carefully as Davey slowly, tiredly, dragged a paintbrush half-heartedly over cardboard. Dave caught Jack's eye and grinned before looking back to his sign.

"Hey, I know I'm not a fancy artist like you. But there's no need for the judgmental stares," David teased. Jack scoffed and shook his head.

"Not judgmental, Dave." He said, forcing his attention back to his own sign. "Just a stare."

He hummed in acknowledgment. "Well... maybe you should be staring at your own signs. You spelled strike with a c."

Jack read his sign that had STRIC written in big, bold, red letters. He chuckled for a second before he dragged a long line against the back of the c, so that it might be recognized as a k. Then he added the e and looked at his work proudly. "See? All fixed." He didn't miss the way David's gaze flitted from the sign to his paint-stained hands. "Hey, I know I'm not no fancy word-er like you. But there's no need for the judgmental stares," Jack mocked.

David rolled his eyes, but a small grin played at his lips. "Not judgmental, Jackie." He mocked right back. "Just a stare."

"Yeah, yeah." Jack smiled and let his eyes settle on Dave's face. "All I'm sayin' is that it ain't a bad view." Before the other boy could even attempt to reply, Jack changed the subject. "Thanks for doing this for us, Dave. I really appreciate it. I know the boys do too. You don't want to be around a tired Racer, trust me."

"Jack-"

"I think we're good on the signs. All them other borough are making their own, and we got plenty for our boys." Jack said. "Thanks again, Dave. I'll see ya tomorrow." He collected the signs in his arms and scurried away into the bunking room. Mentally, he cursed himself for his forwardness. But even with all his doubt, he knew he felt David's soft gaze watching him as he left.

[iztarshi]

Febuwhump - Immortality

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles/Girl Genius

Note: Turtles as Jägers

You sit on the pavement outside the Castle. There’s an awful lot of Jägers doing the exact same thing, bodies loose and exaggeratedly casual, games of cards being played on the pavement with the usual cheerful arguing reduced to a mutter. No one becomes a Jäger without riding with them first, which means everyone here has someone they know inside. Someone who might become a brother. Or they might not. You know the odds as well as any of them and the fact that the odds can be just as bad in battle doesn’t help at all. In battle you could do something, throw your body between Mikey and the enemy even if he yelled at you afterwards.

”Raph, you can’t fight my battles for me! Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m useless.”

“Hy know dot, little man. Big man. But Hy em bigger und hyu is hundreds ov years younger.”

“Yeah, but I’m good at this. I’ve got the skills. I’ve got the flamethrower.” Mikey, not yet five feet, glares and you, going on for seven feet and covered in scales, cower back.

Leo laughs. “He’s got de intimidation factor too.”

Leo is lying on his back, hat over his eyes. He’d look relaxed if he wasn’t chewing his claws so hard he’s broken one. He’s not even complaining about his pretty scarlet claws being ruined and demanding glue.

You pull Leo’s claws away from his mouth and he pushes his hat back to glare. For a moment you think there’s going to be a fight. You’d almost welcome a way to release the tension except it’s the wrong moment, the wrong mood. All around you are other Jägers, also not fighting. Leo rolls onto his front instead and rests his chin on your thigh.

”Dot line needs to be higher,” Leo says.

“Shot op und stop micro-managing,” Donnie growls, painting a little higher with the ink. “Hy haff done this before.”

“Hyu vouldn’t know it,” Leo says.

“I think it looks fine,” Mikey says, smiling. The outline of a Jägersymbol is on his skin, just in ordinary ink right now but it’s ready to be tattooed.

Donnie picks up the needle and you say, “Did hyu clean it proper? Mikey iz human.”

“Hy sterilised it, yez,” Donnie says, rolling his eyes.

You watch as he pokes the needle again and again into Mikey’s skin. Mikey smiles and smiles through the process.

“Now hyu will be a brother forever,” Leo says. “Effen if hyu leave, get married, buy a house…”

That and not the pain makes Mikey scowl. “I’m not leaving.”

You fold a hand over his shoulder, careful of your claws. “But hyu’d still be our brother if hyu did. Hyu don’t need to do anyting to make dot true. Hyu ken liff hyu own life.”

“This is my own life,” Mikey says, firmly.

Donnie is scribbling something in a book. A quick peek over his shoulder reveals probability calculations, done over and over again. The answer always comes out to about one-in-ten.

You put an arm around his shoulder and pull him against your side, he leans into it with a grumble but the pencil keeps going. On the other side of you, Leo peeks up at him, before looking away again to lose himself in his own thoughts.

”He asked me!” Mikey shouts. “Master Saturnus asked me! I’m gonna be a Jäger!”

You freeze, all three of you freeze, and you should congratulate him. You understand the honour that has been done to him. You remember. Even if you had died then you would have died a Jäger, you would have died for the Master. But this is Mikey, little Mikey, who loots artworks instead of gold.

“There’s a moch higher chance hyu vill simply die,” Donnie blurts out. “Nine in ten pipple dun survive the Jägerdraught.”

“Not how I vould haff said it, but Donnie’s got a point,” Leo says. “Hy mean, congratulations and everyting, but are you really sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Mikey says. “You know how much I’ve wanted this. I’m gonna be like you guys.”

“Mikey,” you say. “Vot if hyu die?”

“I’m going to die anyway,” Mikey says. “Way before you do. Even if I live to be old you guys will still keep going after I’m gone and you’ll forget me the way you forget everyone who rides with you.”

“Not hyu,” Leo says, finding the words for all of you. “Ve could no more forget hyu than ve could a Heterodyne.”

Mikey reaches out and squeezes Leo’s arms. “You’re not going to forget me because I’m not going to die. I’m going to live forever and set the world on fire and I’m going to do it with you.”

When one of his hands lets go of Leo and reaches for you you wrap an arm around them both and pull Donnie in with the other.

The Doom Bell rings and the square goes from quiet to utter silence. Master Saturnus enters first, hair wild and stride loose with exhaustion, but still radiating energy and satisfaction.

Behind him come the survivors. Still mostly human looking, but stumbling with rearranged muscles under their skin. Grinning with still blunt teeth but grins sharp with something new.

Mikey stands among them.

You don’t know who moves first. Whether it was Leo, rolling from lying against you to standing in one swift movement. Whether it was Donnie, forgetting his notebook as he runs. Whether it was you, running, running, as the crowd around you surges forward in the same motion.

The three of you hit Mikey together and he goes down beneath you. He’s laughing, poking you between the ribs with newly-minted claws. He smells of sweat and pain and pack, the Dyne singing in his blood.

“I told you,” he says, wild and joyful. Then he laughs and says with mischief in his eyes. “Hy told hyu. Hy told hyu all.”

[selfless-desires]

continuing from here, — @mcrtyrized , , ,

‏‏‎ ‎

While Steve didn't actually intend to offend his newly made ally, the look in their eyes told him more than enough without needing to improvise— he couldn't specify what exactly went through their mind, he's never been good at reading strangers (especially guys), though one could only assume being called an idiot just minutes after losing a fight didn't sit well with the guy's pride. There was a noticable shift in the atmosphere, the air between the two felt heavier than it has before as the young Harrington chose to stay silent rather than make the situation worse for himself. If he was lucky, Leland wouldn't deck him in the face for all the shit he's spilled in the last minute or two— though they sure as hell looked tempted to do so, even if only for a brief moment.

‏‏‎ ‎

It wouldn't be the first nor the last time Steve has run his mouth in what one could describe mindless fashion, lackin' any sort of filter that might've saved his ass were he wise enough to think before speaking— though, to his surprise, while expectin' a walk on eggshells for the rest of the night, Leland took things… fairly well considering everything. Better than what he would've expected after witnessing the guy sock someone just minutes prior— would've thought he deserved it, too, after how he failed to do anything but make 'em feel worse… or maybe he hasn't. Whatever trace of annoyance there's been on their face was now gone & replaced with a playful smile, their hushed chuckle relieving him of whatever tension he's felt prior.

‏‏‎ ‎

'It's stupid,' those words felt familiar, being one to use them all the same when it came to his own problems— the elbow nudgin' his shoulder earned Steve's attention for a brief moment before he'd glance back to meet their gaze. Chocolate brown eyes searchin' their own while they went on about what brought them here in the first place & once more, Steve couldn't help but feel that maybe they weren't all that different. Asshole parents, he too know what it was like to have your college funds paid for you & expected to bring results— only difference is, Steve's parents have long given up on their son ever being more than what they meant him to be from the moment he was seen in a cradle: a successor of the oil company his family have passed down from father to son for dozens of years.

‏‏‎ ‎

It was when the other chose to lean on his side that Harrington snapped out of whatever trance he's been in, staring at the guy a while too long for it to be appropriate due to a smile he happened to find pretty. Instead of pushing 'em off like most would've in his situation he chose to give them a shoulder to lean on, quite literally, a hand coming around their side to pat them in what could be seen as an (awkward) attempt at comfort. Steve's arm lingered there, the tips of his fingers lightly pickin' at the fabric beneath 'em while he huffed out a hushed comment.

‏‏‎ ‎

" Take it easy, man. " he would say, voice now softened with more room for comfort instead of past grievances. Couldn't help but look over when he felt the weight on his shoulder, too, givin' him an odd sense of comfort he'd choose not to question but enjoy while it lasted. He's learnt just how fast things could end after all, why should the question of why be prioritized instead of the peace he so clearly ached for? Then again, it should've been no surprise it'd end all too soon as Leland chose to move from his side— the wobble in their step & the pained look in their eye more than enough to warrant the flash of worry that painted the young man's visage.

‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎ ‎

“ Hey… hey hey hey, HEY–! “ firm hands reached to grasp at the other's frame as Steve moved to stand on his own feet, holding them by their shoulders to ensure they wouldn't topple down on the stairs like they might've if he weren't there for their aid. “ Careful, Jesus– last thing I need is for you to land us in a hospital, ” while one could consider this scolding there was a clear hint of worry within the young man's speech, doe brown eyes searchin' Leland's features as if to assess just how dire their situation were from the seems— should he take the guy to a doctor? Maybe… but first, he needed them to cooperate. How would he achieve that? Well… he's dealt with a whole tribe of kids before— sure enough there'd be a way to bribe some guy to stay, even if it needed some creative thinking.

‏‏‎ ‎

Instead of letting go of 'em Harrington faintly applied weight to their shoulders, give 'em a little encouragement to do the right thing so to speak, not planning on letting go of them without proper medical aid— he's dealt with concussions, got one himself just the year prior, he wasn't about to let them make a mistake that could've been avoided. “ Just… settle down, alright? I’ll bring you something to drink, “ get some sugar in their system, possibly help with the forming ache in their temple— or perhaps quench a thirst they may or may not be aware of at the time being. Whatever the case, Steve wouldn't be rid of quite easily as he didn't give the athlete the time or chance to refuse his 'generousity', even if they considered it.

‏‏‎ ‎

“ What do you crave? Sprite, Pepsi, Fanta… " once he was sure they wouldn't attempt to stand on their own for a second time Steve redirected his focus onto the flight of stairs behind him. One step after another the brunet slowly descended while still keeping an eye on his peer, just to be sure, hands loosely hangin' by his sides while he awaited their answer— he already knew what he'd get for himself, the promise of a cool drink enough to encourage him to move with a faint skip in his step while trying to divide his attention— was a mere miracle he didn't stumble over his own feet just yet, though he wasn't about to jinx a bold statement.

‏‏‎ ‎

[abbatoirablaze]

Down The Rabbit Hole, Chapter 6

Word Count:  1.3k

Warnings:  mentions of guns (Paintball), mentions of sex/smut, angst.

The two of them hadn’t talked since the kiss. 

Jeff had tried to focus all of his attention anywhere else but her, and in the time that had passed, the only thing that really happened was him and Britta starting an argument with some high schoolers. 

His ego had taken a dramatic hit after being turned down by Tawney; something he didn’t think was possible. 

She was a slightly nerdy, inexperienced woman.  And he was an attractive, once very successful former lawyer. 

It should have been a cakewalk for him.

And because of that, he threw himself at Britta all over again, which made Tawney start to ignore the study group. 

And in turn, ignore her boyfriend.  So much so that they never reconciled after Abed’s leading of the chicken tender mafia. 

Which was how she also ended up helping out with Duncan, setting up for the Spring fling.  They’d set up the food, music, and activities, but were shell-shocked when the dean started talking about the game of paintball. 

He’d explained that the prize was going to be priority registration, and that the last man standing would win. 

And just like that, the campus turned into pandemonium.  People ran for the tables of paintball guns, and the belts of paint.  People split off.  They turned on one another like animals. 

And Tawney felt her instincts kicking in.  All of the training that her parents had given her, the countless hours of being taught how to survive throughout anything, came to the forefront of her mind. 

Her mom’s paranoia hit her all at once.  And it was like she was a small child once more.

“Tawney you have to know what to do in the event that I can’t protect you.”

“Mommy I just want to go home,” she whimpered softly, pushing her hair out of her face.  Dirt smudged her cheek.  She looked to her mother who gave her a sad frown, and to her older brothers who were already building a lean-to, “mommy this isn’t fun…”

“It’s not meant to be fun, Tawney,” she sighed, shaking her head as she pushed the rifle into her daughter’s hands, “you’re five now.  That means you don’t get to stay home with daddy anymore.  You have to be prepared!”

“But mommy-“

“No buts,” she replied curtly, cutting her off, “you’re in charge of dinner…I’m going to show you how to track a deer while staying clear of the mountain’s natural predators.”

She grabbed a gun, and a belt, and bolted.

Priority registration.

That would allow her to schedule all of her classes, first choice in making sure that she would have everything she needed. 

Behind her, she could hear the screams of her fellow classmates.  Running into the student lounge area she noticed Annie, wide-eyed and nervous.  Her guns raised.  Annie held her hands up in defense.

“You didn’t grab anything?”

“N-no time!” she said quickly, “Britta and Shirley said they would grab some and I said I’d find a safe space for us.”

Tawney tossed one of her guns at her, “take this.  If they have guns for you, you can give me it back.  Let’s hide in the men’s room.”

“The men’s room?” she asked as Tawney pushed her in, “wh-why the men��s room?”

“Come on!” she replied, pulling her along.  Behind her the door opened, and Tawney immediately pushed Annie behind herself and raised her gun.  Shirley screamed while Britta held her gun up.

“IT’S US!”

“Tawney don’t shoot them!”

Tawney lowered her gun and looked at the pair.  True to Annie’s word they had two guns for themselves and two for Annie.  Annie immediately ran to them and wrapped her arms around Shirley, “you guys are alive!”

“Come on…we’ll hide in the men’s room!”

“Why the men’s room?”

“Guys are idiots…we can pick em off when they least suspect it!”

“Good thinking!” Britta smiled. 

“How did you guys manage to last so long anyways?”

“Tawney’s idea!” Britta smiled, looking over at her, “she suggested we hide in there and pick the guys off…”

“Tawney-“

“Shh-“ she muttered, not daring to take her eyes away from the library in front of her, “we need to set up a place for the night…and the study room has the best chance of being a stronghold right now…we need to go there.”

“Tawney, I’m bleeding.  We need to go to-“

“I’ll get supplies and you and Britta set up the study room,” she offered as they reached the door, “it’ll be easier for one  person to sneak around downstairs without getting noticed…plus you two have been arguing all day…it’ll only draw attention and make us targets if you get loud in the halls.”

“Looks like Winger and Perry are getting jiggy with it in the study room!” Chang smirked, pointing his gun at her.  Tawney bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from warbling. 

She had known that Jeff was a bit of a man-whore but she’d felt like he really did like her when he kissed her. 

Only, at the time, she’d been dating Abed. 

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach and she dropped the roll of gauze and tape, “well…what are you waiting for, Chang…shoot me already and get it over with.”

“You like Winger, don’t you?” he scoffed, dropping the barrel of his gun ever so slightly.  Her head shot up and he shook his head, “ you know I could overlook a lot…I could shoot a toddler right now with this thing and steal their bottle, but I can’t shoot you.  Not with how pathetic you look…I’ll let you slide for now…gonna go right on into the study room and take out your little crush and his hookup…and then I’ll take care of you…”

She waited for a moment, not moving as the Spanish teacher slid past her, and towards the doors.  The noises had stopped and she sniffled once more, “Chang…”

“Yeah Shakira?”

“When you take them out…I’ll be waiting outside the dean’s office for you…and then I’m going to take you out.”

“I’d like to see you try…” he chuckled, preparing his gun as he started walking back towards the study room. 

Tawney, meanwhile, made her way down the side entrance and towards the stairs.  She could hear the sound of his machine gun starting up and part of her felt a little bit guilty for letting Jeff and Britta get surprise attacked like that.

But then she thought about the noises she’d heard coming from the study room.

Jeff was having sex with Britta…and the more that Tawney thought about it, she became angry.

Jeff had probably just been using her to get even with Britta.  To make her feel like she had to step in and do something.

Britta was territorial like that.

As she made her way down the hallway towards the dean’s office she heard it. 

“DEANNNNNN!”

“Shit.”

She ran towards the door and threw it open, seeing Dean Pelton.  His eyes went wide, “TAWNEY!  You’re still in the game?”

“It’s down to me and Jeff, and I’m going to lay it on the line right now!” she said quickly, “he’s pissed at you for all of this…and he’s coming down here.  You’ve got two options.  I help you, or I don’t!”

“DEAN!”

“Oh god, please help me!” he exclaimed nervously as he ran to her.  She closed the door quickly as he latched onto her arm, “Tawney, you have to help me!”

“Go back behind your desk,” she ordered, “as far as he knows…he’s the last player in the game!  Go with it!”

“Okay!”

He ran back around to his desk, and she hid behind the door, just as Jeff burst through. 

And boy did he look like hell. 

“I can explain!” Dean Pelton began quickly.

“Oh…you don’t have to!” Jeff smirked, crazily.  Tawney slid out from behind the door, spotting the gun he’d had attached to his back, and she pulled it off him just as he went to reach for it.  Jeff was quick to spin on his heel, eyes wide as he saw Tawney; the gun poking him in the chest.

“Game over, Winger!”

And she pulled the trigger.

Chapter 7

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @mckeeee-1

[hekate1308]

Fictober 2022, #5

Prompt: "No, anything but that“

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: G

Pairings: Destiel

Despite what some people may think about his job, Castiel has always loved being a waiter. Yes, even with him being awkward and unsociable, at least according to his siblings. But it keeps (again, somewhat unlikely) a roof over his head and food in his fridge, he meets lots of people so he never gets lonely (even though he should be, once more according to his siblings because he’s made it past the age of thirty without finding  a partner) and it leaves him with enough free time to paint, which is what he’s wanted since he was in school.

So, here he was, with over a decade’s worth of experience as a waiter under his belt. By that he means to say that he’s met lots of customers who’ve had special orders and/or wishes, some of them friendly and nice enough, others rude and demanding. Therefore, he knows how to handle anything thrown his way.

Until today.

He likes Sunday morning shifts. Most difficult customers are still in bed, and those who are around have a good reason to be, and are normally polite enough.

So at first, when he hears the little girl’s laughter from the kitchen, he simply smiles. He’s met enough children to be able to tell when they’re happy, and she’s as cheerful as can be.

He was however not prepared for the adult accompanying her – her father, most likely. At first, he’s busy listening to the girl, his head bowed, so Castiel can only tell that he seems to be rather tall and well built; then he raises his head and his breath catches in his throat just as he is about to greet them in the usual way.

Because this is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. And yes, he’s most definitely the father – the green eyes of his and the little girl prove that.

She can only be two years old at the most, there is no way this man is single he tells himself in order to get his thoughts in order, only that this doesn’t work because then the man smiles and oh God…

“Hey.”

“Hello, I am Castiel” he manages because after so many years, certain things are just engrained into him. “May I take your order?”

“You most certainly may” his grin grows brighter and it’s like looking at the sun.

So he concentrates on the girl. “Hello, I am Castiel.”

To his utter surprise, she chirps, “Like the angel?” with her young lisp.

“Yes, I –“

“My mother loved angels” the man shrugs. “So I tell her about them. This is Emma, by the way, and I’m Dean.”

He nods the concentrates back on Emma. “Emma. What would you like to eat today?”

“Pancakes!”

Dean sighs but seems to resign himself to his fate. “Fine, princess.”

“We have chocolate, banana, peanut –“

“No, anything but that” Dean hastily interrupts and when he turns back to him he adds, “She’s allergic to peanuts. Sorry, man. I’m just paranoid.”

“No, no, it’s completely understandable” he assures him because of course he would want to protect his daughter.  

Emma predictably chooses chocolate.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but he mostly hangs around their table until they leave.

“Man, that pie was awesome, and Em really liked your pancakes. Our compliments to the chef.”

He nods. “I’ll pass it on.”

“We’ll be back” he assures him and Castiel nods again.

He knows nothing will happen, of course, but that he doesn’t mean he can’t spend some more time with this enchanting man and his adorable daughter.

One year later

“I’ll miss you, Cassie.”

“Balthazar, it’s not as if I’m moving to the end of the world” Cas reminds their chef once again. All that’s happened is that these days, he makes enough money off his art to live comfortably… especially considering he’s not alone anymore, these days…

“Oh God” he groans, “You’re thinking about your boyfriend again, I can tell” Balthazar groans. “Get out there and make yourself useful before you go all starry-eyed on me.”

He knows he doesn’t mean it, so he complies.

He didn’t expect to see Dean and Emma today, but he’s not surprised; it’s the kind of thing his boyfriend loves to do.

“Hey there, sunshine” he grins and Cas leans down to kiss him while ruffling Emma’s hair the way she loves him to, noting that she seems to be even cheerier than usual.

“Daddy wants you to marry him!” she shouts loud enough so the whole diner hears.

“Em!” Dean interjects but Cas is too busy staring at Emma to react.

Then the man he loves clear his throat. “Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag… What do you say, Cas? Let’s make it official?”

There’s only one answer he can give.

[lonelyplanetfag]

here's ghoul's shitty little backstory. i literally rambled for three straight hours but one singular person said i should post it one time

ghoul was born in the desert and was (somehow) able to make it into his teen years before anything super fucked up happened to him.

his crew was big compared to most- a whole six people- and he was the youngest. it's a fucking miracle how all of them could fit in the little repair shop they lived it. it's a fucking miracle that the thing was still standing, held together by spite and a shitload of spray paint. the six of them mostly stuck to Zone 3, but started showing up around 1 when ghoul made friends with a kid he met by a vending machine. the friendship was complicated at best- poor kid's parents were neutrals- but they made it work. ghoul picked up a fascination with explosives from the oldest of the group, and he got pretty damn good with 'em. the natural next step was for him to be taught how to make that shit on his own, and he was selling bombs at 13.

his business relied entirely on word of mouth, but it worked wonders. he took just about whatever people could offer in exchange, and he only got fucked over twice! he'd accept carbons, supplies, and the occasional promise of a favor when it suited him. someone started a rumor that he'd take other kinds of favors too, but he shut it down within the week.

ghoul became his crew's main source of income once he started gaining a reputation. and jesus fuck did he gain a reputation. his shit was so high-quality that people started traveling across the Zones to buy from him. a year went by and he found his face plastered on an EXTERMINATE poster. he was pretty fuckin proud. maybe he snagged the ugly thing for himself, maybe he didn't. maybe he tacked it to the wall of his makeshift workshop, maybe he didn't. he'd never tell- and he'd probably get defensive if you asked. he'd never been the best at reactions.

once he hit 15, though, ghoul got a stranger-than-usual business request. somebody from Zone 5 wanted him to come to them. it was unconventional and made him a little uneasy, but his crew was low on supplies. they had a shit ton of mouths to feed and ghoul wanted to be helpful.

they drove him out there- all six neon fucks crammed together- and he couldn't figure out why his skin was crawling so bad. he didn't mention it, and the trade-off went just as planned.

the 'joy he met up with seemed a little off- and they talked like a city kid- but that wasn't entirely unusual for somebody new to the Zones. especially one from the city. he figured that was why they'd wanted him to travel so far in the first place. most newer 'joys are hesitant to be around Zone 3.

on the way back, ghoul noticed that 5 was, strangely enough, always full of newcomers. they got halfway into 4 when he supposed it made sense. Zone 5 got former city kids away from their old lives without suffocating them with radiation. lots of em died from it anyway, but he figured that's besides the point. they were all gonna die from it anyway. by the time they hit 3, ghoul's skin was crawling again.

he figured out the reason for it when his crew made it back home. their run-down repair shop had been absolutely fucking decimated. hell, the thing looked like it hadn't been there at all.

the driver got out of the car to asses the damage, and they were the first to go. within seconds, they went down in a blur of pink hair and lasers.

dracs swarmed the car- led by an exterminator ghoul didn't recognize- and the next thing he knew, another member of his crew was taking a fucking bullet for him. everything was going by in flashes. he couldn't get his eyes to focus. he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't do anything. rough hands yanked him from the car and he blacked out. he'd never been the best at reactions.

once he came to, ghoul was immediately blinded by the brightest fluorescents he'd ever seen. someone was there with him- wherever he was- and her smile was sharper than his headache. she seemed nice enough. nice in a way that made him want to throw up, but nice enough. she told him that instead of putting him through re-ed, BL/ind elected to make an example of him. he didn't know what she meant- the Zones didn't provide a great education- but she said he was very special.

he could never remember much after that. a member of his crew had survived, and they were held in the room across from his; perfectly positioned for each to watch the demise of the other. which is exactly what they did. ghoul would never forget seeing them forced to relapse on shit they'd spent forever getting rid of. maybe it was the light, but even their hair seemed to dull. maybe the color had just faded, but it was hardly green anymore.

he remembered finding a camera in his room and knowing that he was being filmed. it didn't take much asking around for him to find out from a newer capture that back in the Zones, his reputation was stronger than ever. BL/ind had made him a celebrity. they'd put him on television. they'd called him violent. said the 'joys he lived with had mutilated him. that he hardly understood language. that his bombs were responsible for the destruction of his own home.

he had to get out. he was pretty sure he'd tried it once before, but he couldn't remember anything from the months after. someone told him that his head could block out the bad shit; he knew it couldn't have been good regardless, cuz he wasn't as stupid as BL/ind made him out to be.

he'd never forget the escape. the new blaster he snagged off one drac and the older model he stole from another- thank fuck for all those bombs, they made him quick with his hands- and the fucking noise. his hearing was fucked from the years of explosives, but he'd never heard anything like it. the screaming, the gunshots, the ricochets, the bodies, it was all so damn much and it was all because of him. he was in control this time. everything was going by in flashes again, but his eyes focused. he could breathe, he could move, he could do everything. he didn't black out. maybe he wasn't all that terrible at reactions.

until he caught a flash of barely-there-green falling to the ground. he couldn't do it. he couldn't get out without them. his eyes unfocused, and the rest of the fight was gone. fuck reactions.

ghoul came to his senses in Zone 1. someone talked to him, said they knew each other- something about vending machines? he couldn't tell. his eyes unfocused again.

he spent the next few years with himself, trying to get back in control of his body, trying to stop shaking, trying to get off BL/ind's shit (he always managed to get his hands on some) and he ended up at the Crash Track. the vending machine kid was there a lot. they raced dirty.

ghoul felt dazed. his eyes never fully focused- what was with that- but he stayed fairly conscious. conscious enough to notice the vending machine kid always seemed to target another racer in specific. ghoul watched him more than he watched the vending machine kid. he was cool, and he was fucking good.

after a few races, ghoul got close enough to read the "GOOD LUCK" emblazoned across the visor of his helmet. when he complimented it, the guy introduced his sibling as the one who had hand-painted it. they were fast friends, and before he knew it, ghoul was introduced to the third member of their crew too. 

he kept showing up at the track, and, eventually, he had a family again.

tldr: crew 1 -> SING-like events -> BL/ind Fucked Him Up -> fab four