#i see right through your shattered skull my guy!!!!

[fear-ne]

no no no you don’t understand. there is just something about ashton “i punch things for money” greymoore (who has been reduced by circumstance into being a tool for brutality, who has LITERAL stone hands and a glass hammer and a hardened heart, who is the product of years of cycles of violence) taking a look at other people and being ineffably gentle with them

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

omg congrats for 5k doll! i wanted to slide in and see if i could have a protective!bf Gaz written since my baby is so underappreciated??? i saw this tweet about the scene in mw where gaz's disabling a bomb and is unable to and price throws the guy off the balcony, but this time the bomb in strapped to his love and he's and he's struggling and sees price out of the corner of his eye and remembers what happens last time and panicks and goes all 'you won't do that to her'. just a thought, love all your work!

—Don't Look At Her

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

"Gaz," your voice wavers, watching the rapidly working man and seeing his darting eyes—lit with panicked fervor. He doesn't answer, so you speak again. "Gaz!"

"No!" He barks, brown eyes instantly meeting yours. Lips pull in a right frown; there's a glint in his gaze that you'd never seen before—not in the many years you'd known him. Kyle's firm hands don't leave the wiring attached to your chest. The vest.

The bomb.

"No, Love," he grates out, immediately getting back to work as you try to keep your tears at bay, body jerking back and forth as your boyfriend pulls at the straps and bits. "Don't even say anything. You're going to fucking fine, you hear? It's going to be okay."

It was the product of bad intel, really. You'd been sent in without the proper know-how, leading to a scuffle where the butt of a gun had been slammed into your temple. When your eyes opened again, it was already too late.

Kneeling in the middle of a large office building, the glass of the windows shattered behind you, and the wind whips the back of your skull aggressively, you stare down at Gaz. Trying to form words on a tongue that won't cooperate.

"You need to run," you whisper out, resigning yourself as the rapid beeping increases. Your heart moves so fast you can't feel the skin of your chest anymore. "Kyle," pleading, you watch his jaw clench something fierce. "Listen to me—!"

"I'm not leaving you!" A sharp snap of a metal piece hits your ears, the piece of the vest clattering to the ground in a violent display of desperation. Gaz glances back up at you stubbornly; as if uncaring about the impending incineration only minutes away. "So you stop bloody talking like that, yeah? I'm not just giving up!"

The sides of your eyes dribble out rabid tears, lungs a mess of air and inhales that can't even be considered breathing anymore by how wheezy they sound.

How would it feel? Exploding into a patchwork of blood and fire—instantaneous, sure, but feeling Kyle's heat and his puffs of air; his fear, you can't imagine him dying like that. Not him.

"Look at me," Gaz pants, fingers pulling at cords in search of the one he needed to cut—unable to pinpoint it through the hack-job that had been done to your vest.

There was every color under the sun except fucking yellow. His teeth clench so tight they hurt his jaw, but he sends you quick glances as you shakily do as he says.

Brown eyes soften, and while the both of your hands shake, for a second there's a relief at the eye-contact. "Repeat it, Love."

You lick your lips and stammer, "y-you're not leaving."

Lips press firmly into yours, and you clench your eyes tight at the sensation, tiny sob breaking the contact.

"That's right." Gaz growls. "Not on my life."

Rapid footsteps race into the room, but before the Sergeant can reach for his weapon, the familiar call from the Captain echoes out.

"Friendly!" It's as if Gaz doesn't even register, still digging and fearfully looking at the timer.

50 seconds. 49. 48. 47...

"Sergeant," Price jogs over. You can barely find the inner strength to look up at him. "Sitrep."

Blue eyes dart from the vest to you and the Captain's serious face goes grim. His expression flashes with the inner workings of his mind, eyes narrowing and a grunt stuck under his lips.

"I have it," Gaz speaks quickly, and the words strike you as odd, though you don't comment. Price slid him a sharp look.

"Gaz—"

"Don't even look at her." Snarling like an animal, brown orbs are volatile enough to rend stone in two as they meet the older man's. You and John are rendered speechless, sharing a swift glance in shock like teenagers hearing their parents swear for the first time.

Kyle's eyes are wild, sweat slicking his brow. "Come fucking on!" He yells and your body is snapped forward as Gaz pries on the straps, having to steady yourself on the man's shoulders for support. Every muscle in his body is taunt; shaking with force.

Perhaps it was the memory that invaded his brain like a parasite that had made him snap at his superior like that—a stab to his fine tissue that digs all the way down his rail-straight spine.

Piccadilly Circus. Tanto building. Hostage with an explosive vest.

Kyle's fingers bleed as they peel back rough velcro, having ripped off his gloves to be nearer to you.

It all flashes past his mind in horrible increments, the past, but instead of a man—the hostage is you. And Price was burning his neck with a harsh stare once more.

He's going to throw her out the window, Kyle panics and you watch with the deadly realization of the situation. No. No, I won't let him. Not her.

"Garrick," Price says, voice deep. But he doesn't move. "You need to get your head back on."

"I've got it screwed on just right, Captain." Gaz grunts. "Trust me."

12 seconds. 11. 10. 9...

You stare at Gaz and memorize the make of his handsome face—the dates and the late nights speaking about the future sticking to your skin like leeches; sucking away every instance of love and happiness. His laugh. His brown eyes.

His smile.

Oh, you want to see your Love smile.

"Sergeant!" Price yells, moving forward to grapple onto Kyle's shoulder. "It's going off!"

Your boyfriend rips out of his hold, fists clenched and screaming.

"Get the fuck off of me! I can save her!" Your back hits the ground with a slap and a ragged gasp from your lips, the Brit straddling your hips in a desperate play to deactivate the bomb.

"Kyle," you look up at him, pleading. "You have to take cover, it's...it's okay. I love you, I need you to know that—"

"Bloody shut," eyes spark, locking on the bright color under the front of the vest. Gaz snaps a hand under the material and rips at it in a ruthless wrench of his arm. 2 seconds. There's a deafening snap of wire. "Up!"

The beeping stops and the world stills.

Your wide eyes can't stop crying as you stare up into brown eyes with astonishment; struggling to breathe. You can't tell if the building is vibrating or only you, but nothing seems to be able to focus as a wave crashes down on you; adrenaline still striking you.

Everything rings inside of your ears, pounding in your head.

Hands grasp the base of your jaw and lips descend to yours, tears slapping your skin from above in a wave of feral agony. Gaz stifles his sob on your mouth as you shake wildly, panting over your flesh.

Price gives off a large sigh from behind, standing straighter and turning his head.

Gaz's forehead connects with yours, but there are no words to be said—just the silent gazing and lingering fear of death. He won't let go of your cheeks, and, quivering, you go to grasp tightly at the sides of his arms.

With a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes and sags into you.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[finn-m-corvex]

Rain

Small snippet I wrote involving DR Jaya angst! Not canon compliant whatsoever, this is just indulgent for me personally. Needed to get back into the writing spirit even though life has sucked pretty bad recently. Hope you guys like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 <3

Words: 1.7k

TWs: none other than Jaya angst if that's not your thing!

The water splashed around his ankles as he slammed his feet into the stones, but Jay never slowed down, powering through despite the rain pouring onto his shoulders in buckets. He didn’t think that the Cloud Kingdom would’ve been able to experience any storms due to the altitude, but they were in the clouds, so he guessed it made some sort of backwards sense. Did anything ever really make sense after the Merge?

His pants were soaked. The jacket that he had stolen from that weird green guy was soaked too, but it said it was water resistant, and that was all he needed. He needed to get to her.

Her.

Pushing the sopping bangs out of his eyes, Jay kept running, with only the vague directions of the very startled monk keeping him going. All of the pristine white buildings looked the same, their round roofs all blending together in what would’ve been a shimmering sea of gold if the weather was permitting, and Jay would’ve stopped to admire the beauty if he wasn’t on a mission. Quite possibly the most important mission that he had ever been on in his life, or at least the parts of it that he could remember. The rest of his memories always felt like they were floating just out of reach, like he could grasp them if he tried hard enough to remember, but they never moved any closer. It always felt like he was running in place whenever he thought about it for too long, never able to move forward, but going back wasn’t an option either. Not anymore.

Did he really need to remember anything?

Finally, the Cloud Kingdom Library came into view, and Jay banished any thoughts that weren’t about her from his mind. His face was still throbbing from where the one who always wore red had punched him hard enough to bruise, and while the only thing that Jay had been concerned with at the time was the black and blue that would cover his cheekbone, he should’ve been concerned over the tears streaming down the other man’s face, contorted in a mask of fury that could’ve burned the entire Administration building down to the ground with a single glare.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore, but you’re not my brother. You never were my brother. And if this is who he was always going to turn out to be, I-I never would’ve let Nya anywhere near you.”

It burned. It burned and hurt and made his chest scream with pain more than anything he had ever heard in his life. More than that time he was passed over for the promotion that would’ve freed him. More than the Administration doctor saying that he would never get his memories back. The statement almost seemed to grab the box where Jay shoved all of the things he didn’t want to see: the grief, the anger, the misery and the loneliness and the agony and the disappointment-

And shattered it. So it was just as broken as him.

Kai. That was his name. His name was Kai. His brother’s name was Kai.

Jay very nearly slipped right down the stairs when a sharp sting reverberated through his skull, the water still fresh on his shoes, and the ankle that had always given him trouble when he had to take the office stairs twinged in pain. Would one of them be able to explain that to him if he asked? Explain why he had the ‘x’ scarred into his chest, or the whip marks from the small of his back to the top of his shoulder? The light scratch overtop of his eye that always made his head hurt if he looked at it for too long? Would they even want to do that for him anymore?

She had told him when they first met that she held the answers, answers that he didn’t want at the time. All he wanted was to go back to isolating in his office, drowning himself in his work and games and anything else to make him feel alive. 

But how could he have ever truly been alive if he wasn’t him?

“Nya!” Jay exclaimed when he reached the bottom, catching himself on the towering stone wall before he could faceplant. Wooden bookshelves, dizzingly tall, surrounded him like an army ready to march, and Jay never thought that he could be so intimidated by stationary supplies bound in leather when he was ensconced in both for as long as he could remember, but nevertheless there was something daunting about them. There was no telling what information was being held in here, maybe even the entire history of the universe. She could be anywhere in here, hiding behind one of these shelves and he wouldn’t even know it until she saw him and then what would he say and what would he do and oh First Master he wasn’t ready-

And then he looked again. She wasn’t behind a bookshelf, waiting to ambush him, but sitting at one of the desks on the far side of the room, hidden almost perfectly by a stack of books that was almost as tall as her.

Walking quickly but quietly with a poise that Jay only recently learned the origins of, he made his way to her, only a little prepared to spill his guts and beg for forgiveness, on his knees if he had to.

Until he heard soft snores coming from the beautiful woman, hisYang, and Jay was taken aback by how ethereal she looked bathed in the light of the candles surrounding her. Her gi was rumpled and dirty, and Jay could tell that she must’ve been laying here and sleeping for a while, perhaps reading in the library for even longer. The small beauty mark on her cheek was almost glowing, and Jay had to swallow back the sudden urge to run his thumb across it. The urge seemed to almost trigger a phantom longing from deep inside of him, to hold her and comfort her and love her, and Jay could tell that he was losing the battle against it.

Being more gentle than Jay could remember, he brushed her cheek, and his heart squeezed when Nya leaned into his touch with a soft sound. The water was streaming off of him in droves, forming puddles through all of the crevices in the floor, and yet the only thing Jay cared about was watching as the love of his past life relaxed as his thumb stroked her cheek. She—she still trusted him this much? Even after everything?

And yet, the thing that devastated him the most was seeing all of the titles on the books’ spines, the tops of the scrolls, everything that she was researching…all of it was about memories, and ways to cure even the most obscure illnesses, even some books about ancient myths that he knew she was hoping would work. Hoping for anything to work.

Jay’s chest tightened, and he pulled away as if his hand were on fire. 

No. No, he didn’t deserve to comfort her, not anymore. There was nothing that he could do, that he would allow himself to do for her anymore. Because she was here, and doing all of this work, and he had the audacity to try and find her just so that he could wallow in his own self-misery and keep throwing himself pity party after pity party?

“I’m..I’m so sorry,” Jay stammered, wiping at his eyes as the tears trailed down his cheeks, falling and mixing with the water still dripping from his hair, and Jay was suddenly very aware that he was making a mess. A bigger mess than usual, at least. He desperately tried to wring out his clothes, being as quiet as he could so that he wouldn’t wake Nya. And yet, he still paused and watched anxiously as her eyebrows would furrow and she would move slightly, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally turned her head over.

A sob threatened to burst out of his chest. “I should’ve been here,” Jay said quietly, “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve..why did I stay there for so long? Why? Why do I…why do I always fuck it up, Nya? How do you still love me, after everything?”

Why did I choose to stay in hell, when I could’ve been in heaven with you?

Nya was shivering, some of the wind from the open stairwell blowing past them. Jay wished that he had brought a blanket, even if it would’ve been more like a fancy drenched towel at this point, then he remembered his suit jacket. It should be fairly dry from being protected by the green one’s jacket that he snatched, and it was better than nothing.

Jay started shedding the overcoat, letting it fall to the floor with a wet plop, and he did a double check of his suit jacket to make sure that he wasn’t about to infect Nya with a cold by leaving it with her. He very well might end up with a cold of his own after the sprint through the Cloud Kingdom. To his relief, it was relatively dry, and Jay was quick to tuck it around the water ninja’s shoulders…

…before finally giving into the urge to press a kiss to her head, as gentle as he could manage. Jay made sure that the jacket wouldn’t fall off of her before turning and walking back to the stairs, the green ninja’s stolen jacket over his shoulders, and watching as Nya’s shoulders rose and fell with steady breaths. He silently apologized to the monks that would have to clean up the mess, but he had work to do now. Jay Walker had a mission, and he was going to give it more attention than anything he had ever worked on for the Administration.

“I’m going to make this right,” he whispered. “Nya, I promise, I’m going to make this right. I’m going to make this okay. It’ll be okay.”

Didn’t the pink one mention something about a Djinn that granted wishes? Maybe Jay needed to pay him a visit.

[c0smoshit]

Hello angel, here's my silly little angsty prompt:

"Cloud gets home after a mission. He's exhausted, but reader is happy to see him noneless. She knows he isn't a touch person, but she finds fun into teasing him a little, hoping it would make his day better... However, she senses that something is of; and Cloud, unsure if it's a mako flare-up or something else, prefers to let it go. Later that night, he's surprised (yet shattered) when his mom visits him, telling her son she is happy he found "the one" and how proud she is of her son.. When reader awakes to see a puzzled Cloud, she wonders what's the right move to make, only to follow her instinct."

Enjoy wrecking me 🤍

The one ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud/fem!reader

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!, minor spoilers, past trauma, not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ reqs are closed bc I'm going to be busy next week and I wanna write some stuff by my own too so yeah, sorry 😭

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 2.236 ( so many short fics omg )

It started off with your voice.

"Hey"

And then your hand would find his own, bringing him into your little world.

But as the hours passed by, you noticed that something was off, really off.

Maybe it was how lifeless his eyes seemed to be under your cold lighting, despite the beautiful contrast of mako green and natural blue.

Your hands helped him get his sword off him, your ears turning deaf as he told you it wasn't necessary.

He always tried to do everything on his own, he felt as if he was a burden to others. Ever since he was a kid, he thought that maybe it was better if he stayed quiet.

Maybe that was what life had been awaiting him for.

He loved silence, he loved quiet walks into the mountains by himself, whenever his mother would let him.

However, you were quite the opposite of quiet.

. . .

"Yeah, it's that weird guy I told you about"

"Why is he here?"

"Why is he wearing that in public?"

"I heard he was involved with that terrorist group"

Over and over again.

At this point he couldn't distinguish between his mind and the world that was surrounding him.

Cruising through the city, he tried not to interact with anyone as always. But no matter how hard he wanted to focus on his task, there were always some burning eyes on his skull.

At first he didn't mind, he wasn't really used to this kind of attention but he shrugged it off.

Maybe it was his sword or maybe it was the curse in his eyes.

However, as the weeks passed by, he felt more and more out of place. The pollution brought an itch inside his head, but those whispered comments brought headaches.

"Mind your own bussiness, freak"

Turning his head around, he looked over to where you hissed. It was almost comical to see you scolding a pretty big guy, his friends already about to either insult or laugh at you.

However, he stepped behind you before any of that.

He liked the way you always tried to defend him, always beefing with people whenever you heard those awful comments.

He felt somewhat protected

. . .

"You're taking a bath"

What?

He had dissociated from the conversation to the point that he was now aware of your hands prying off his armour.

At first he didn't enjoy those "cute little baths". He felt bad you were cleaning him up and he felt like a little child under your fingertips once again.

But the more your hands laid themselves on his bare body, cleaning him up, the more he leant into your touch.

So he let you handle him around

"Alright, let's start"

After that, your fingers started spreading soap around his scalp, his whole body submerged inside your hot tub.

He found it kind of silly that he had to lay down with his knees outside the water when you could spread them so they rested under it.

He loved those small details

With you he didn't feel naked and vulnerable, he felt finally at peace. He didn't know how much he actually needed your hands on him, but his body surely craved them.

Speaking of, they were currently rubbing soap on his chest, tracing a path until they latched themselves on his arms.

Curiosity spread around his mind whenever you would praise them, tell him how strong he had became over the years. Curiosity because he didn't see that much of a change, he was always like that, right?

But he didn't mind them, hell, he secretly flexed under your gaze so you could gawk at them.

Summer days whenever it was hot outside, glistening skin under the warm hues of the punishing sun. He was always weirdly lifting something heavy whenever you were around, a wooden box or some metal bar.

A secret attention whore

He let you play around with his fingers, eyes closed as he relaxed into the tub behind him. He liked the way your hand fit so perfectly with his own one.

Whenever you would drag him around the city, latching your fingers around his wrist as he followed close behind you.

Ever since the day he had met you, you seemed different.

He could crack a smile with you without the need of feeling embarrassed about it, let alone laugh at your stupid puns. He felt light-headed, and he really needed you after a long day.

That's why he always tried to get home as soon as possible when you weren't working too, he wanted ( needed ) to see you. The way his aching legs dragged themselves without any pain into your house.

But on days like this, his legs ached x2 times harder.

Why was he still alive after all that had happened?

Why did the Planet need him so badly?

Couldn't others replace his job?

Those questions flooded his mind again and again, like a snake that bit it's own tail.

He was become more and more confused about his surroundings, the past traumatic events still flashing lively through his tired eyes.

God he was tired.

And after all the times he had already told you that he was fine, just tired, that adjective seemed to have lost it's initial weight.

So tired.

The past, the nostalgia mixed with the sour taste of regret and bad decisions.

The present that still haunted him on lonely, endless nights.

The future he didn't even want to know that was awaiting for him.

As bad as it sounded, he had lost interest in the things he adored doing. He felt better when he was just breathing, sinking in your arms.

SOLDIER? he wasn't good enough to be one of them

Sep%#/<*@? It was better if he slowly forgot his name

However, it wasn't that easy.

No matter how far his legs had managed to take him, a long trail into some tall, enigmatic woods without a visible exit.

He was always following right behind him

And he didn't know how much time he had left until his face would be pushed into the dirt, a much stronger hand keeping him down.

. . .

"Cloud!"

White hair was replaced by your h/c locks, a warm waterfall of relief washed all over his body at your sight.

"Were you even listening to me?"

His body felt fuzzy and when he looked down he saw a towel wrapped around him, his legs sitting on the cold wc.

He looked back into your face, a cute pout resting on top of your brows as you waited for him to answer. Only to see that disgusting look of worry paint all over your pout instead.

He hated and despised that look in your face

He always blamed himself for making you feel like that, maybe he shouldn't have opened up as much as he did. Maybe he was being such a baby about all this.

He wanted to make you happy with him, cheerish him for the things he had done that day, admire him. Anything that didn't involve your pretty face coming down.

But, of course, he didn't know how to brighten it up.

His pupils remained connected with yours until he looked away, confused about what to do or to say.

But your hands suddendly wrapping his head in a warm cage of softness, kept him from thinking. A towel was ruffling his hair up, and he didn't mind anymore if it ended up messed.

He liked the feeling of someone finally taking care of him

And when you both finally winded down from the day, ready to rest on the comfortable bedding you had chosen, he felt as if someone was dragging him down into a puddle of confusion once again.

The worst part is that he didn't know how to swim back

"Sweetie"

She paused for a brief moment, her hands slowly lulling him back into an awake state.

"Honey?"

Mom?

"That's right, sweetie"

His eyes opened up, finally seeing the woman behind that familar voice.

"I missed you"

He couldn't believe he was back home, looking down he still saw his adult body. Well, and adult body that only hid childish maners.

He wanted to say that he missed her too, a lot actually. But no words seemed to seep out of his mouth, it felt like a nightmare.

Part of his childhood and teenage years passed by without her, a warmth he seemed to seek on cold nights, sneaking a hand around your waist. Whenever he saw other children with their mothers, teenagers that got angry at them, he wanted to feel that too.

Hell, he wanted to feel everything that he was deprived of. From the softness of her arms as she tucked him to sleep, to her honeyed voice as she sung making dinner.

His head still laid on his pillows and he could recall the coziness of it, it was the only thing about his past that he was sure was real.

"You've grown to be a good man huh?"

She kept talking, and he wanted nothing more to do other than hearing her voice for the last time.

"You've gotten really handsome too. . ."

Her hands took his arm, his mind now being aware of her presence as she sat on the bed, sinking a bit the mattress. Her fingertips dancing along the skin, trying to memorize all his muscles.

". . . and strong too"

A big smile was plastered on her face, looking at him as if he was a newborn again, getting ready to sleep for the first time after she had given birth to him.

"The ladies must be crazy for you"

And she wasn't wrong, they really were.

He got compliments almost every day in Midgar, from the honeygirls to some random ladies on the street. But it wasn't until his mother told him how pretty he actually was that he started believing it.

"I saw that girl, you're a lucky one"

Did she mean... you?

You were one of the few persons he knew he could trust, that could lend him a hand whenever he was feeling down.

He couldn't describe what he felt for you, but he definitely knew that if you happened to fall off a cliff, he would be there to catch you.

You had done so much already for him and yet without expecting the same amount of love and care for him. And he felt so bad about it, he wanted to return all of your hugs, cuddles, kisses and praises.

"She's the one"

And there you were, laying like a lonesome princess by his side. He could see your pacified breathing, it would always calm him down.

How had he gotten so lucky?

You seemed like a goddess under his gaze, and it was on nights like this he finally got to appreciate your beauty.

You could be sweating, with your hair all ruffled up after a workout that he still would've found you the prettiest woman alive.

You always told him how handsome he was, how his face was absolutely perfect as you forced him into wearing some kind of mask you would apply into your face shortly after too.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you

His mind was racing at this point, he didn't even know where to look anymore. At your pretty eyes closed shut? At the way you were cutely laying on the bed with your arms hugging your chest? At your body under the mattress?

If he were to write down his favourite part about you, he wouldn't even know where to start.

However, when your eyes opened themselves slowly, he panicked.

Did he wake you up?

But he stayed still on spot, the warm blanket he didn't want to leave when he got up in the morning pooling bellow his stomach.

"Cloud?"

Stop.

He wished he had an audio recorded of your voice and listen to it whenever he had to sleep without you.

"What's wrong?"

Your eyelashes batted themselves, trying to wake your brain up as you searched his body under the dark light.

He soon felt your hand on his bare chest, finally able to look at him in the eyes. Which wasn't a complicated task as they were bright as the sun.

Your moon in dark nights

"Go back to sleep"

That was the fourth time you had heard him speak this afternoon, and it concerned you so much. He always listened to your stories and when he was in a good mood, he would never shut up.

He was a pleasant person to speak to, really, he had such beautiful words to say whenever he got philosophical. And he actually made you cry when he bashed out about his trauma.

But you just looked at him and without any words, your arms enveloped him like his mother. You knew he was comfortable like this, silence as your heartbeat slowly matched his own one perfectly.

And soon both of your bodies were laying on the mattress, your hands holding his head, pressing him further into your chest as he clinged to your back.

You told him the most sugary praises you could had ever thought about, lulling him back to sleep as his mind began clouding with sleep.

You could've sworn you felt something wet on your chest, but you didn't care, you were more than happy to finally see him express his feelings with you.

[givemea-dam-break]

a/n: since quite a few of you wanted a part 2, here it is for this request - heyy could you do anthony lockwood x reader, where they used to be best friends but something bad happens to the reader and they stop talking and after years they reunite because of a case. maybe angst and fluff - i hope you all enjoy! on my masterlist, it's titled Downfall

warnings: mentions of deathh, spoiler (for those of you who haven't read the end of the whispering skull aka end of s1's book), mild language gn reader taglist: @tellmeoflegends @shampoocovers99 @nessa-stark @moonysstarconstellation

part 1

Your coffee went cold about ten minutes ago, and yet still you wait. Begrudgingly. Hopefully. God, who knows why you're waiting?

Lockwood's almost half an hour late. Really, you should've left twenty minutes ago. Really, you should've never agreed to come out to get a coffee with him, but it felt necessary. He and his friends had just rid your house of the ghosts of your mother and aunt, and you'd been feeling particularly emotional at that moment, so you'd agreed. Now, you're beginning to regret it.

The sun gleams through the windows of the café, one you used to frequent with Lockwood the morning after he'd had a case while he was still working as an apprentice. You chose it simply because of how much you loved their coffee.

You've not had a sip.

Even though it's a drink, it carries memories almost as bitter as the taste of it, and you can't bring yourself to have a bit. It feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong. The way you look at the door every time the windchimes sound; the way your heart is pounding in your chest with apprehension. You should be at home, making sure your dad is all right. Not meeting up with the guy who ignored you for years for something outwith your control.

You check your watch, frowning at the time, when once more the windchimes jingle.

This time, it's not an old man or a young couple that walks in, but a tall, slender boy in a far-too-long coat, a rapier by his side.

When Lockwood spots you, he smiles and hurries over, sitting down slightly out of breath. His cheeks and nose are a rosy pink.

"So sorry," he says. "I was running late."

"Clearly." You nudge your mug around on the maple table, watching the sun reflect off the white porcelain. "I was about to leave."

He grins in a way that was once contagious. No longer. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. What did you get? The usual? Back in a moment, I'm going to get a tea and a muffin."

In seconds, he's away and at the counter ordering, and you can feel all of your energy sap out of you and into him. You're not sure how he's so high-spirited, nor so energetic. You're positively shattered. But his temporary absence allows you to try and gather your thoughts and emotions.

It's like the barista knows your predicament because she's taking obscenely long to make Lockwood's tea. Not that you're complaining. Just as well you tipped her beforehand. Maybe you'll tip her more.

"Ah, nothing like tea on a cold day," Lockwood says as he sits down again, placing his mug on the table gently. "So, how are you? Good, I hope, seeing as you're ghost-free."

You shrug, watching the coffee in your mug follow the swirling motion of your spoon. "As good as I can be when my mum and aunt are dead, and my dad is losing his mind. What do you want to talk about?"

"Straight to the point, as usual." He smiles brightly, and it retains even when you don't return the gesture. "I just thought it'd be a good idea if we worked things out."

"Worked things out? Lockwood, there isn't anything to be worked out. I moved away without a choice, you got mad at me and never answered my letters. What more is there to say?"

For a millisecond, his joyful mask slips, revealing something that looks like a mix between guilt and irritation, but it's back in place before you know it. "Can I at least properly explain why?"

For lack of better judgement, you nod and cross your arms, sitting back in your seat. There's a weird feeling in your stomach, almost like squeezing. Like how some snakes wrap around their prey, squeezing the life out of it to consume, Lockwood's words do the same to your very soul.

How long have you waited for this conversation? To finally get clarity as to why he just cut contact with you?

Well, you know some of it. After the deaths of his family, you were the only person he had left, and his biggest fear was losing you, too. He clung to that fear for the five years between Jessica's, his sister, death and your move as if it were the only thing keeping him afloat in a dark, endless sea. It's why you insisted on writing and sending letters every day even when you had nothing of interest to talk about. You didn't want him to feel alone.

What more could there be?

Much more, apparently.

"Well." For the first time in this whole encounter, Lockwood seems nervous. His fingers are tapping against his mug, occasionally making little clicking sounds when his nails make contact. He keeps looking at the bridge of your nose instead of your eyes like he used to do when he was a kid and wanted you to ask your mum to get you both ice cream. "You were my closest friend. Nigel Skyes, you remember him? My first employer? Well, he was great, but I'd never consider him a friend, so you were essentially it for me. I mean, you know as well as I do, that all this charm? The bravado? It's fake, (name). You were the one person who could see through it and still accepted me as I was.

"So, yes, it hurt more than anything when you left, because I needed my shield up all the time. After my parents, after Jessica -" He pauses for a moment to slow himself down. He had started to ramble. "It was hard, but around you, I didn't need to be brave or happy all the time. Then you left, and - and I can't even begin to explain the fear that ran through me. What was I meant to do without my rock? The one person who saw what a mess I am but didn't care, because they were just as bad."

"Thanks," you mutter.

"You know what I mean, though," he continues. "It's like... When you're on a rope swing, really high in the air, and then the rope snaps and you can just see the clouds growing distant and the ground rising up to meet you before you crash into it. It was disorienting not having you around, and it felt like that when you told me you were leaving."

You only speak because of how final that last sentence sounds. "I didn't leave. Leaving implies I chose to go, which I didn't."

"The premise stays the same. You were here, and then you weren't."

"You -" Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself. You'd both chosen to meet out in public so you didn't start shouting at each other. "Okay. I understand how you feel."

His eyebrow quirks up as if to say, Is that so? But he says, "Thank you. Your turn."

For what? you think. You've got nothing to explain, no actions to justify. You did everything in your power as a teenage kid to stay with your best friend, and you got the response most teenagers would receive from their parents for such a request. No. What more could you have done?

"You could've replied to my letters," you say quietly, unable to look at him.

"I did," he says. His voice is soft, and you can feel his eyes on your face. "I just didn't have the guts to send them."

The emotions that overtake you then are overwhelming. Sadness because you never got to read these letters or see the stupid responses he came up with for the even-stupider things you said. Anger because he never sent them, never even sent one to tell you that he couldn't handle it. Regret because you never should've sent any in the first place. Comfort because he spent time actually reading your thoughts and ramblings and sat down to respond, even knowing he wouldn't send them.

But there's that little part in you that doubts what he says. How are you to know that he's not lying?

Swallowing the clog of feelings in your throat, you say, "I just wanted my best friend. Even if I couldn't stay here and see you all the time, I wanted to know how you were doing. If you thought of me as much as I thought of you."

"I never stopped."

You take a sip of your cold coffee then to hide the tears clouding your eyes.

"You could've taken the train to come back and see me, you know," Lockwood says. "A visit every now and then wouldn't have hurt."

"And so could you," you retort. "I gave you my address. I had school to think about, and I couldn't spend however many days a week on a half-hour ride there and another back. There was too much going on,"

His lips purse, and there's a little pang in your heart seeing him without his smile. You had forgotten how fulfilling it had always been to see it, even when you were mad.

"Did you mean it when you said you've not made any friends where you are now?"

As embarrassing as it is, you say, "Yeah. It's not easy when you're the new kid with social issues. Why do you think I always made you do the talking?"

He breathes a laugh then, a faint glimmer shining in his dark eyes. "I suppose you never were very good at talking to people."

"No." You tuck your hair behind your ears, staring down at your mug. "I never realised how hard it was to make friends. With you, it had been easy. You were just some chatty kid who wanted some of my doughnuts. No one could compare to you, so I never bothered."

Lockwood hesitates, breathing in as if to speak but no words pass his parted lips. With the sunlight streaming through the window, he looks like he's been painted onto the scene in front of you with those shadowed eyes that hold a lifetime's worth of mystery and an almost unrealistic air about him. The golden light splits across his face far too perfectly. It's infuriating. It never does that for anyone else.

"I think what hurt the most," he says, and his voice holds a very unrecognisable note of trepidation, "is that I had been planning to ask you out the day you told me."

Your hands, which had been tapping the tops of your thighs, stop short, and you look over at him in shock.

"What?"

His smile this time is small, bashful almost. "I'd liked you since we were twelve, in all honesty. But I never acted on it because we were kids and I was still grieving. Admitting I loved you felt like sentencing you to death, and I didn't want that for either of us. And then I worked up the courage, got my shit together, but look where that's got me."

It hurts a little to breathe. "You're kidding."

"I'd never joke about that." He's the one who won't meet your eyes now. "It hurt twice as bad getting the news because I was losing my best friend and the person I loved most on the same day. But I went on."

You note the wording then, how he didn't say move on, and an old, almost foreign spark of hope flickers in the dark abyss that once held your heart. Like every minute spent with the boy you left it with makes it slowly return.

"I loved you, too, for what it's worth," you murmur. "But, you know me and talking. I couldn't get the words out."

The nature of his smile shifts to something more remorseful. "I wonder how much trouble we would've avoided if we'd told each other."

"Or caused, you mean."

And he laughs softly at that, bringing a little smile onto your lips and a warmth to your chest. Something about the conversation, even though you're still insanely mad at him for the things he's done - or not done, more correctly - has made you feel lighter, liberated, in a way. It's easier to smile and laugh and feel a little okay. To allow yourself to connect with him in a way so minuscule to how you once were years ago but so tremendous compared to your time apart.

You never thought you'd be sitting here with him now, sharing smiles, and the thought makes you tear up again.

"Do you think we could ever be friends again?" he asks hopefully. "I mean, I know you'll still be a half-hour journey away and all, but I'll send my letters this time. I swear it. I want to hear all about your life at university."

No, a little part of you cries. You'll just end up hurt again.

But you don't want to listen to it. You want your happiness back, your best friend. You want to be able to wake up in the morning happy, knowing you're not all alone in your life anymore. You want to suffer through a stuffy train journey on weekends and holidays to come and see him and drink bitter coffee and eat stale doughnuts like you used to when you were fourteen.

Most of all, you want him again. A week ago, you would've scoffed at the notion and told anyone who thought it to go screw themselves, yet this one conversation...

It has given you clarity, along with a lot of anger and frustration and sadness, but sitting across from him? It feels worth it. Everything from the past three years feels worth it because now you're across from him and you're smiling and so is he.

So you say, "Yes."

And while part of you screams that you've made a mistake, another tells you that you made the mistake of falling into his web so, so long ago and never yearning to leave it, instead calling it home.

"Yes," you repeat because at least he's your mistake, your downfall, your home.

[dr-xanders-diary]

Our beginning.. Loving you..2

Heavy breathing, panting, and groaning; small droplets of sweat, dripping down my temples, down my shoulders and chest. As the red light above the exit is gleaming onto my body, contouring every drop of sweat as it trails down my chest, and contours every curve of muscle. The thick smell of blood, oil, and the salty scent of sweat, all wafting through the hot humid air, as the fans above circulate it. The low humming sound of droning from the fans cutting through the quiet of the hot summer night. My eyes half lidded as I gaze down, brows furrowed in frustration, head lightly tilted to the side as my lips part with every panting breath. Step by step, slowly making my way ever so closer. "How very dare you". Chest heaving with every breath in exhaustion as I grip tighter onto a rusty metal crowbar in my right hand, letting it scrape against the concrete beneath me, only to swing it up over my shoulder. The crowbars weight feels heavy in my hand, I'm tired, it's been hours.. this game of cat and mouse.. "It's time to finish this.." My hair is parted in the middle as my bangs loom over my eyes, my gaze filled with hate, disgust, and rage.

I am so sick of this. All of this. It's taking too long.

Finally, there he is hiding behind the giant metal racks in the warehouse. I take slow quiet steps, closer and closer, lifting the crowbar just above my head, as he begins to slowly turn to look in my direction; he had felt my presence. Gripping tightly onto the crowbar with both hands now and-, swing. C-CRACK. Blood splattered onto my face; We had made almost made eye contact, that-, that would have been thrilling. I have discovered new, darker things lurk within me, that have been awaked, for a lack of better words. But I hope this wont scare you.

His body slumped down to the floor with a thud, his head and the crowbar hitting the ground last, the thud of his skull and metal clank against the concrete. Slowly, blood begins to pool from his shattered cranium, I gaze down at his now lifeless body, his eyes filled with a twisted fear, now glazing over as the life leaves his eyes. "Found you.." My words come out almost cold, and distant. He put up a good fight, a great fight even, but that's not what I am here for. I'm here because he tried to steal you, my darling. And he almost succeeded. I can't have that. I cannot lose you. I love you too much for that. You are mine. As I am yours.

Plus, I am in too deep now. There is no going back.

I reach down and grip the crowbar that's nestled into the mans skull, and begin to pull it from his head, a bit difficult. I press my boot to his face applying pressure, finally pull the metal from his cranium, a sloshing sound accompanied with a gush of blood ,as I pull away the crowbar.

..I think.. I can see his brain.

I need to get rid of traces of me.. luckily there are no cameras at this oil warehouse. So the only things are my belongings, and my DNA. Perfect. I can leave this guy here or-.

No, this is no time to get sloppy now.

I clean up the site, and as much of his blood as I can, and dispose of his body. Nobody will ever know we were, here. No one.. except me, and him, but he's never going to tell, he's great like that-, well at least now he is.

I make my way back, my way back to you..

When I get to my apartment I clean up, take a shower and linger there; standing under the almost cool water hitting my body, and washing off the blood and sweat. God, what a long evening, and even longer night. When I step out of the shower I wrap a towel around my waist and go to my kitchen to get myself a glass of water.

I can't wait to see you again. When you come home, from your trip. I can't wait to listen to you talk about how you had so much fun seeing the sights, how you and Stacy ate at that restaurant that will be your new favorite from now on when you travel over seas. How you talked about what type of ring you'd want if you got married, how you hope you'll get married soon.

Yes, I know every single detail of your trip, but that doesn't mean I don't want to listen to you talk about it. It's only a few days till you get home, and I cannot wait. It's given me time. Enough time to-, well you'll see soon enough.

It's been so long since we started dating, now it's been; 3 years, 11 months, 22 days, 3 hours, 25 minutes, and 30 seconds. Yes, I still count every moment with you. Because I am deeply in love with you. More than you will ever know. Now, that I have finished dealing with our issues, I can properly prepare everything for us. I only have a few days to get the biggest parts out of the way, before you're here with me, but I am sure it will all work out well. I never thought I'd make it this far with you, but I have. Soon, you will be in my arms again.

I cleaned up my apartment, properly hid my little secrets where even you couldn't find, and had a short nap. I even took time to clean your apartment while you've been out, even took care of your dog. He's a good boy. The next few days I spent preparing for you to come home, shopping, and talking to your dad. You know, he really likes me, he thinks of me as a son. It's almost comforting to have someone who is almost like a father to me, again. Your family truly loves and cares for you. They keep every memory of you very close to their heart despite your differences.

The days have passed, the wait is over, you're on your way home to me. Waiting at the airport, just a few more minutes till you pass the off boarding gates, and are in my arms again. As the crowd comes out, I scan for you.

Ah there you are, looking as perfect as always. Truly a masterpiece.

Spotting you, wearing a white tank under a dark grey ombre top, and blue jeans, you're sporting your charming smile as always, you walk side by side with Stacy. You two almost look like siblings, because of how close you two are, but rest assured you are the apple of my eye, always. Stacy spots me before you do, she gives a nod and slight smile from afar. Vaguely pointing me out to you. And suddenly our eyes meet, it's like everyone around us disappeared and we were the only ones in the airport. We made our way to each other, you dropped your luggage five feet from me and jumped into my arms, hugging me tightly. You could suffocate me to death in the middle of the airport if you wanted to, and I'd have loved every second of it. Hugging you back tightly, lifting you off of your feet as I pepper kisses against your cheeks.

God. I missed you so much. It's good to have you back in my arms. Right were you belong.

Stacy made her way to us as she grabbed your abandoned, and almost forgotten luggage, smiling. She may be the only true supporter of our relationship out of your friends. Luckily enough, she's the one I want in our corner. You giggled at every kiss against your cheek as I lightly swayed you in my arms before I let you down. You cupped my face in your hands, pressing your forehead to mine. Once again, it's like we disappear into a world of our own for a moment, getting sucked into the moment; one that I wish would last forever. It's perfect. You and me, together, the way it should be, forever.

After the public displays of affection, small banter and chatter, we make our way home, dropping Stacy off at her place for the morning so we can all settle a bit. Before we all got back together for dinner in the evening. We chattered over food and wine, you two talked in great detail about your trip. I asked Stacy a certain detail I've been meaning to ask, all the while you were out in the restroom. She showed me a picture of what I asked and patted my back roughly, her hand is heavy on my shoulder despite her petite frame. By the end of the night Stacy went her separate way, and we went to your apartment.

I helped you unpack your luggage, and we played with your dog for a bit while we chatted; you talked in detail about different parts of your trip and showed me pictures of every sight you saw. Along with all of the things you collected. You had so much fun, laughing, smiling and adventuring didn't you? "I'm so happy you enjoyed yourself".

But I missed you, my darling. I was lonely, without you.

You continued to ramble as we sat on the couch and eventually, you fell asleep. I picked you up, I carried you to your bed, taking your shoes and socks off carefully, covering you with a light sheet so you don't over heat. I sat beside you, watching you sleep as I thread my fingers through your hair. If only you knew what I do for you. Not just what you see me do for you, but, what I do in the dark, without you, for you. Would you see me as inhuman? Would you be afraid? Would you call me a monster? I know we have our disagreements, our fights, our spats, really, but would you still want to be with me if you found out my dirty secrets?

I can't lose you. I cannot chance you leaving me. Even if you found out my secrets, found out what I do for you, what I really do for you, and you somehow accept me. I cannot chance, the off chance of you ever finding out and losing you. So you will be bonded to me.. forever. Soon. And even if you did find out, you would never be able to leave. I wont allow it. We would have to make it work.

The next few months were great, we spent time together and tried some new things. Our nights together, with heavy panting, loud moaning, the cracking of a whip, the sizzle of candle wax hitting skin, the sweat, the grinding, the light choking. The sex, was great. We experimented so much. You even opened up over the year prior of your desires, and we tried every, single, k!nk, you had. Every curiosity you had. And now, as I lay tied to the bedframe, gazing up at you, as your hand is wrapped around my throat, our eyes locked onto each other. My chest covered in red and black wax, my abdomen wrapped in complex knots of rope as you are on top of me.

My chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, as your hips lift and descend onto my length, slowly riding me-, oh. You're trying not to grind your hips. Your crotch presses against mine, you just want to get to orgasm quickly, I can tell.

You're greedy. But you're practicing self control, I'm so proud of you.

"God, you're so sexy.." "Slow just like that, darling." "Mmm-, yes." Low gravelly moans escaped my parted lips with every slow movement. Your grip around my throat tightening as you quickened your pace ever so slightly-, oh.

"There you go love." "Such a good- ***" "That's right- mmmh."

Fuck, if you keep going like this I'm going to-.. I need to keep it together.

We took our time, we made love between rough sessions of fucking. And by the end of it all, we laid in each others arms, panting and loving on each other. Soft kisses against each others lips, loving whispers, reassurance, and affirmations. Eventually we got up and got cleaned up, and went to the bathroom before we changed the sheets and went to bed.

Weeks after, we sat at one of your favorite restaurants', eating some of your favorite courses, a fully paid reservation. You were ecstatic, taking pictures of the food, it wasn't often that we came here, only on special occasions. "*******(X) what's the special occasion?? This is so great! Thank you, again." I smiled and shook my head, my brows lightly furrowed in a content expression as I spoke. "The special occasion is you, darling. I wanted to treat you." You grinned ear to ear, unsuspecting as you enjoyed your meal and tasted your wine.

After eating at the restaurant we walked through the city, stopping to shop and see some of your favorite sites. As the sun went down, I lead you toward one of our favorite local parks, where there were fairy lights dim, slowly turning on, that wrapped around some of the trees to lead into a path. As we arrived at a clearing under a canopy of trees, I took your hand and carefully and slowly spun you about, "Let's dance, darling".

We spent that small moment together, hand in hand, my arm wrapped around your waist as it grew ever darker as night began to settle. The lights began to light up brighter around us, the leaves and petals from the trees and flowers falling around us. It was beautiful, dreamy really. I gave you a final slow spin, before I got down to kneel, holding out a small black box, within the ring of your dreams.

The one you had described in great detail and showed to Stacy, I already knew, but even I need to seem semi normal. And asking Stacy was the most logical, and normal seeming thing to do.

I worked for this moment, for you. Your perfect moment. As you slowly turned back to see me, a soft gasp had left your lips, you got onto your knees, a single tear welling and falling down your cheek. "Yes, yes yes." I wrapped my arms around you and hugged you tight to me, pulling us up to our feet and swaying us about. A small crowd of 3-4 people gathered to see, some of your friends having been watching, came out from hiding; they had been recording for me. For us, for our perfect moment. Your dad wasn't present, but I know we both had wished he was.

I had to ask your father for your hand previously, as you'd soon find out, I wanted to do this right, after all.

We spent the next weeks after, packing our things, and selling some things, we wanted to move in together. We spent time working, and planning, making arrangements. We set the wedding date for October, in a year, and some months.. Not a whole lot of time to get our shit together, but just enough to have a well planned wedding. We agreed on October, because it's not hot, and it's cool, crisp weather, perfect for us. Since the proposal though we have had several spats, and disagreements. Unfortunately we had a single run in, but nothing I couldn't take care of on my own.

I will take care of everything though, darling.

Don't you worry.

I will take care of you.

Because I love you.

This is our beginning.. this is what it means to be..

loving you.

[sapphic-woes]

Lmao so I did it and I will not take any criticism. Vantage supremacy.

Vantage hunts you down. (Literally!)

You had been played for a fool. Or more accurately, you had blissfully ignored the signs.

A gunshot shatters through the silent forest, ripping out a chunk of the earth by your feet. The force makes your desperate pace falter, but you know one slip up is all it takes to be over.

Mara wouldn't hesitate. She'll pull the trigger.

Idiot. You're a fucking idiot! This was the Apex games. No one was harmless. But when she beamed down at you and spoke about the modern world with such curiosity, you couldn't help but adore her. She was young and trying to free her mother via participating in a bloodsport. Who wouldn't take pity on the kid?

A bullet grazes your thigh. You bite by a cry of agony. Apparently, those who were easily bamboozled did.

"Mara can watch out fuh herself, doncha worry." Ajay snorted as you told her about your efforts to help Vantage get comfortable with the games.

"Yeah but–I mean she's so young! She should be idle, without a care in the world, be innocent, or at least naive–you know?" Ajay raised an eyebrow at you, shaking her head.

"Yuh the only one who thinks that. Cuz Mara's got yuh wrapped around her finger." D.O.C. beeped as though to agree. You didn't understand, and at your confused stare Ajay only fixed you with a pitiful look.

"Poor thing. Don't yuh ever notice her starin'? Like she's watchin' a rabbit at the end of her scope. And you's the rabbit."

Back then, you hadn't understood. Now?

You slammed the door shut, fumbling to push some random deathbox in front of it. Frantically, you searched for syringes–nearly crying in relief to find a pack. You winced as you injected yourself with health, feeling the oh-so-expensive serum relieve some pain in your body.

Was she always this...terrifying? You'd only even been on teams with Vantage before, never at the end of her barrel. Ever since you took it upon yourself to help the FNG get comfortable with the games, the public had been obsessed, and the demand to see you two interact was overwhelming.

They loved your caring nature and the "big sister" vibes you gave off where it concerned Mara. You praised her when she managed to mark her "prey" down, backed her up to rush when she felt confident, and offered her supplies whenever you could. Bad fights only got soothing revives from you, and you never left her banner behind.

Your sales had rocketed due to this display, and very quickly fans warmed up to Vantage as well. However, your agent had suggested a match where you guys would be enemies...just to test the waters.

But you doubt she thought it would come to this.

There was a heavy thud. Startled, you jolted, clutching your empty R-301 like it was your lifeline. God, Lifeline. She had been on your team, and things had been going great, that was until...

...a bullet plunges into her skull mid sentence, causing the gruesome image of blood splattering everywhere. There's a beat of frightening terror as Ajay falls to the ground, completely knocked down. Oh my God. Before you can even find the culprit, another shot takes Ajay right out of the game. With only one other squad left, at best, it was 1 v 1 now. But at the worst?

Another shot rings out. Even though you stood still, it didn't find it's mark–but it did make you break into a frantic run–hyper aware that only one person was capable of killing someone in two shots.

Mara–no, Vantage–was hunting you down like prey, and you were running out of places to hide. You swallowed as you peeked out the window, watching Mara dust dirt from her landing with a hum. Her upbeat attitude sent prickles up your spine. Before you'd found it endearing, but now it made your heart pound with dread.

She's enjoying this. Her sharp eyes brightly glanced around, steps perfectly quiet and precise. Mara paused with a tilt in her head, and you held your breath as she spoke.

"I know you're here, y/n. I can smell you." Wait, seriously? That's not just a tidbit she says for the show? She couldn't actually do that, right? Vantage may have been a seasoned hunter, but she was still totally human...right?

"Sweet...reeking with fear. Gosh it almost makes me feel bad. Afraid I'm gonna eat you alive? Don't worry y/n–I don't bite too much." Vantage chuckled to herself, stalking around in search of you.

"You're always so reliable and confident with me, but your panicked face when I "miss" a shot? Precious."

She missed on purpose? You didn't understand why. It looked like she was the last of her squad too, so if she had hit you she would have won. What did Vantage gain from stretching out this game of cat and mouse...

Oh.

"Echo thinks it's hilarious...but I dunno. It's kinda cute."

You couldn't believe what she was saying, face growing bright red. She'd made you run for ages, freaking out when gunshot after gunshot barely missed your form–because she thought you were cute?

She did remember this was broadcast live right? She did remember everyone was watching her do...whatever this was to you right now.

A voice echoed above you both, and you winced. The final ring was going to close soon, and you were out of heat shields. You doubted Vantage didn't have a pair, since you always nagged her to pick them up.

Which meant you'd have to face her head on.

Shit.

"Are you gonna hide in there all day? Didn't take you to be the type to cower. Guess I'll have to uh, what do they call it?" Mara's voice at the other side of the door you'd blocked made you squeak, and you swore she giggled at the sound. It would have been like bells in your ears if not for what she did next.

Bang. Mara kicked the blocked door with a loud crack, and you flinched as the door started to shatter.

Bang. Frantic, you glanced around as she busted her way in, grabbing a thermite grenade and aiming it at her.

Bang. You chucked it once the door finally shattered, sharply turning to run up the stairs. You could hear the sound of her surprise, followed by a chilling, hysterical laugh–and the growl she released as she spoke.

"Smart. I do love a good chase..." The words sent a shiver down your spine. You had never seen Mara like this. Her heartwarming smile was replaced with a smirk, sly as she followed the sound of you panicked footsteps. There was no ammo, no syringes–god this place has been completely cleaned out–and things only grew worse when a voice boomed overheard.

The final ring was closing, and it was going to force you to come back the way you came.

Click.

The sound of her sniper was painfully familiar. You froze, turning slowly to look at Mara. Sure enough, her trademark gun was out, ready to fire, and you were at the end of her scope.

"...Take what's yours? Claim what you want? I dunno, Loba says it I want it, I should have it. Something like that. Just..." You stayed still as Mara walked closer. Her gaze was sharp, demeaning–and somehow you felt stripped bare under it, legs growing weak. The end of her sniper rested against the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look up and keep her gaze.

"It's only natural to hunt down what you're hungry for, right?" Her voice dipped into a husky tone, and you nervously licked your lips, unsure if she meant simple survival instincts or something else.

"Are–uh, Ma-I mean, Vantage–" You stuttered fruitlessly, sucking in a breath when Mara came closer.

"Mhm?" God. Her hum was sweet yet awfully intimidating, making you shiver when calloused hands brushed against your side.

"Why did–you're acting different–I mean just–does, d-does that mean you...uh, to me..." The mess of questions in your head jumbled up into one measly whisper. The sniper grinned, leaning down to let her soft lips brush over your forehead.

"I like you, y/n. You're a little dense, super naive, but all cute, weak prey are. That's what makes chasing them down and marking them so satisfying." As she speaks, you suddenly feel the cool end of a wingman pressed against your skull, and your stomach sinks as Vantage sweetly smiles

"So good luck trying to escape my grasp. I never let go of the things I like."

Bang.

[coffeeandjoon]

🌓 Nocturnal Prince 🌓 | Chapter III - DPR Ian/Christian Yu x Reader | Werewolf Fic

← Previous Chapter 

Pairing: Christian Yu/DPR Ian x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Chapter word count: 1.3k

Status: ongoing

Summary: Sometimes the most powerful of curses can be shattered by the strength of love. Or they turn someone into the cruelest version of themselves. The Prince of Avalon, Christian Yu, stopped believing a long time ago that one day someone would truly love him and break his curse. 

He’s a werewolf, roaming the forest close to Ravenswood by night, terrorizing and destroying everything that comes along his path with his pack of fearless werewolf soldiers. Everyone knows to stay out of the woods at night.

Meanwhile, in Ravenswood, Vixen struggles to be accepted as the "new girl" at college. As a fox shifter, that's not so easy, which is why she takes on the daring challenge of entering the forest at night and lasting until dawn. 

A night of fear and terror begins and soon Vixen is running for her life from a pack of wolves that hunt her without mercy. Much to Christina's chagrin, the fox shifter survives until dawn and escapes his forest. But not without catching a glimpse of him, which changes everything for both. He can't believe she's made it out alive and begins to feel a stirring within him that he hasn't felt in a long time – hope.

He starts to follow Vixen, watching her from the shadows, and slowly begins to realize that she might be the key to breaking his curse. As he watches her navigate the challenges of being the new girl in town, Christian starts to see that Vixen is not like the other shapeshifters and magical creatures of Ravenswood and breaks one of his most important rules: never seek contact with anyone outside his pack. 

Vixen’s POV

My body felt like it had been run over––my skull was humming, my limbs ached, and I felt strained muscles in places I didn't even know you could have muscles in. My sleep had been very restless, I had woken up several times expecting the dark-haired wolf-shifter to haunt me and ... and what actually? I did not really feel fear when I saw him in my dreams, more great curiosity and somehow still an inexplicable attraction.

I'm sure that's just because he's a wolf-shifter and was suddenly shirtless, I told myself. Hah. If I just told that myself long enough, maybe I would believe it.

The walk to campus was like running through thick fog, my thoughts just couldn't let go of last night, causing me to collide with a large hunk of muscle.The beefcake of a guy turned around slowly, my eyes widening, my hands clutching my backpack. Shit. Mr. Wolfie's big friend.

He looked down at me, a dangerous grin presenting his gleaming white teeth wandering across his hard features.

"I knew you'd come here, little fox," he said in a menacing tone that almost made me shudder. Almost. I wasn't foolish enough to let him know that he was unleashing pure horror in me right now.

That stupid smirk of superiority. I straightened my shoulders and stared at him with exactly the same sternness.

"I don't know what you're talking about, big guy, but you're in my way," I hissed and pushed past him, bumping into him with pure intent.

I heard his incredulous laughter and how he started moving to follow me. Stubborn jerk.

The beefcake quickly caught up and walked beside me with far too little distance. His voice sounded less threatening now, however that didn't take the intimidation out of his words.

"Listen, little fox. If it were up to me, I would have torn you apart last night, so take this as your last warning: get out of this town while you still can. This is no place for shapeshifters."

I paused, which also made him stop, and turned to him abruptly. "And what are YOU still doing here then?", I asked him cheekily. Just don't show any fear. I had learned that much in my life –never let your opponent know when you're about to pee your pants.

He snorted, his muscles tensing under the way-too-tight black shirt and his jaw cracking. Breathe, Vixen. He couldn't hurt me on campus, could he? Right?

The giant leaned down toward me, the subtle scent of wolf lingering. "This is absolutely none of your business. Just get out of here, okay?"

Then he straightened up and left with hurried steps. Well, that was one way to start the day. I watched him until he was just a dark dot among the trees that lined the green spaces of the campus, then he merged with the thicket of the forest.

"Well sweetie, how was the forest?" Tyra's sugary sweet voice brought me back to the moment and made the pent-up anger from last night boil up inside me again. So they all knew. I turned to her and there they all stood – Mingi, Puma, Tyra Yong, Sora.

I was about to suck in my breath and begin my angry tirade when Mingi held up his hands in a placating manner.

"Let us just explain this for a minute, Vixen, okay?"

When I said nothing and looked at them all expectantly, Mingi took a deep breath.

"We weren't quite sure if you were one of us," he said, and they all nodded in agreement. So they were shapeshifters too?

"Only members of the Eternal Darkness make it out of this forest alive. When you said you were studying the same subject as Mingi, we already had hope, but weren't quite sure yet. Forgive us for our dare, or whatever you want to call it, but we are always very careful before accepting new ones into our clique," Sora continued.

What. The. Hell. Members of the Eternal Darkness? I don't think I've ever heard anything more ridiculous, and I really had to pull myself together not to burst out laughing. But I decided to play along. I still knew too little to decide otherwise.

With a relieved snort, I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "And I was beginning to think you were kidding me."

Everyone broke into relaxed banter, and I had difficulty following their words, but smiled slightly to myself. Mingi swung his arm around my shoulders, and we walked together to the lecture hall.

Some questions followed about my night, whether I had seen the wolves, how many there were, how I had escaped them, and how many I had killed. Ah well. So that's what the Eternal Darkness is all about.

Mingi seemed to feel my tension because he quickly distracted. "Guys, let her digest the night first. I'm sure Vixen will tell us everything about it tonight at my house party. Right, Vix?"

I nodded. "Get ready for a thrilling story," I said in a conspiratorial manner, hoping they would take the bait.

Much to my relief, none of them seemed to suspect anything.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Christian’s POV

I couldn't help but send Youngwoo off to warn her. She should not stay in Ravenswood. No shapeshifter should be here. This cold war between the mayor and me should not involve innocent souls. Not anymore. I had made the mistake of calling for help once. The losses were too high.

I still couldn't get her piercing amber eyes out of my head. She had awakened something in me that I had thought had been buried. Something I shouldn't cling to because it was pointless. Hope. A little word that could do so much damage.

I wandered up and down within my four walls, nervously waiting for Youngwoo's report on whether she had taken flight in the meantime. Much to my surprise, she had not immediately packed her things and left, no. She had simply taken a shower and then fallen asleep.

No one in their right mind, who had been chased by my wolf pack shortly before, would do such a thing. Well, no one except foxes. Foxes have always been the most curious and brazen shapeshifters, and even if there hadn't been any for decades, that didn't seem to have changed much.

Youngwoo shoved my door open without asking and stomped in with heavy steps. Normally I would chide him for this, but he seemed enraged.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the stone windowsill. "Well?" was all I asked him.

I seemed to have struck a nerve with that, because Youngwoo snorted in annoyance and pinched the bridge of his nose before hitting the stone wall. As if this ancient castle wasn't already a ruin ....

"She didn’t back down and hangs out with these eschatology nuts," he scoffed.

Not even I had expected that. Either she had absolutely no idea what this town was about and how dangerous these freaks were, or she was damn smart. Either way, I was intrigued by her.

"What should we do about her now, Alpha?" Youngwoo asked, concern audible despite his displeasure.

"I'll keep an eye on her," I told Youngwoo, and before he could protest, I added, "I'm your alpha, remember?"

"All right, Ian ... but be careful. You've never lost control over your transformations before, and I don't want our pack to be without an alpha because of a worthless little fox," he muttered before he left the room.

"Maybe she's worth more than we all realize," I whispered to myself.

I spent the next few days following her and finding out how much she knew. As far as I could tell, she was a lost lamb in a lion's den. That was more than bad.

And the natural attraction I felt to her wasn't helping much either. At first I thought it was just my protective instinct as an alpha. Then I thought it was that bullshit thought of hope, but nope. It was my fucking wolf instincts trying to make her mine. Geez, make it make sense why a wolf would want to mate with a fox.  

[fukingyolo13]

Sink or Swim

This is my first fanfic and I thought this would be a fun one. (BTW Jesse is female in this so I will be using she/her pronouns)

Warning: Angst, fluff, and some inappropriate language

After defeating the wither storm, Jesse's gang finally got some down time and able to grieve. Jesse still felt guilty of Reuben's death, so she decided to go to the forest and pick flowers for a little tribute to him and Ellegaard.

While in the forest Jesse found a couple of poppies, and a dandelion which she was debating on wither or not to give to Lukas. She started to have a crush on the boy when her and Axel got back from Boom Town with Magnes. Saving from a creeper when we were walking to the base. He even rebuilt the entrance with Olivia.

While picking the last few poppies in the area it started to rain. Jesse thought it would be a good idea to get back home to build the tribute. When she got back Beacontown she noticed that Lukas and Aiden were talking and having drinks at this small bar. Jesse made a mental note to try and build up the courage later to talk to him and give him the flower.

Finishing up with the tribute, Jesse tried to encourage herself to go talk to Lukas. He was so nice and saved her a few times while in their adventure together so it could be very easy to talk to him. Peking outside it was still raining, but she did get a small glimpse of a blonde-haired boy, which made her grin. Slowly heading towards where she saw Lukas and Aiden in the bar, but she stopped when she heard what they were saying.

"Dude, don't get me wrong and all but you are really planning on stay with those losers after one adventure with them." Aiden seemed confused and upset by hearing from the tone of his voice, but he looked like he was about to burst out laughing instead. "Because you don't think their leader is strong enough physically and mentally?"

"Hey, I just want to keep them safe. I don't want them thinking their big shoots and getting hurt". He said almost like he was trying to explain himself. Which Jesse understood what he was saying, but it what was said next that made her heart sink. "I love her and all, but Jesse is too weak to be the New Order of the Stone's leader."

Right after those words left his mouth, he regrated it all. Seeing the sadness on her face felt like a punch in the gut to him. He didn't know how much she heard but he knew that she heard the last thing he said.

Jesse booked it out of there and ran as fast as she could. Hearing both Lukas and Aiden call for her, she didn't care, her pride and confidence was shattered when she saw the look of pity on Lukas's face when he saw her. She ran all the way into the treasure room and just cried.

The funny thing was that Petra finally even convinced her that Lukas should go on some adventures with them soon. Axel who didn't really like the guy when we just know him as one of the Ocelots. When they got to at least know each other more he actually started to find him enjoyable to be around. Olivia even liked how smart he was.

It was hard though because she never thought she was strong enough too. She hated herself for not being able to save Reuben and Ellegaard. It killed her when the people of the town started to call her a hero, but she just felt like a failure. It was already hard enough to put on a fake smile and say that she was fine, but it hurt even more that the person she had a crush on felt the same about her.

She sat in the treasure room silently crying when she started to hear yelling from the other side of the closed door.

"What the hell do you mean you're not going to let us in?" Not voice was odiously Lukas, but she couldn't tell who the other two were. Jesse stood up quickly started to look for a place to hide in case he does get in.

"Like I said blonde, I'm not letting you in because you made her cry. If you can't get that through your thick skull you might need to get that checked out." Ivor laughed at him like he had no brain cells. "And Petra are you really thinking that he has the right to see her after what he did?"

Ivor was protecting her was the only thing she was thinking about. WHY? It didn't make sense to Jesse that he would do this just for no reason. Maybe it was because he wanted her to trust him more, or for her to get him some powerful treasure after this. Just possibly he could just be doing this because they're friends, That's the one she is hoping for.

While sitting there hearing all their bickering Jesse just to go home and sleep. She got up and walked towards the door so tired from all the crying and opened it to see the three all have swords out almost about to fight. Jesse just didn't care anymore and walked past all of them to go outside. All three of them looked flabbergasted and ran after her.

"Hey, are you ok, we can all talk about what happen at the bar Lukas didn't mean a word that he said, right Lukas." Petra and Lukas got Infront of her before she could get outside.

"No Petra I'm not ok, but I rather drawn before talking about what happened at the bar. Any way he shouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it." Jesse said focusing her gaze outside.

"See I told you she wouldn't want to talk to him. So, stop trying to make them talk if she doesn't want to hear from him." Ivor said run down the stairs behind us. When he final got by Jesse's side he noticed how sad she really looked. "Hey, I don't think it would be a good idea to go in the rain today. How about you come with me and look at how amazing the library is?"

"I was hoping I would build a house finally, but I guess you're right." Jesse said already started going back up the stairs.

"Hey wait, you dropped this at the bar when you ran off." Lukas grabbed her hand and gave back the dandelion that she wanted to give to him. Looking at it now a couple of the petals were missing, and the steam was leaning to the side, it started to look frail which was what she felt.

"It was for you." Jesse whispered and placed gently back in his hand. She noticed that he still had that pity look on his face which made her so frustrated. She pulled her arm out of Lukas's grasp and followed Ivor.

Petra and Lukas didn't follow them up the stairs which made Jesse relief. She didn't want to talk to Lukas already, but hearing Petra defend him made her hate the situation even more.

Getting in a small corner of the library Jesse pulled out the book 'Habits of Endermen' by Soren. trying to imagine what it was like for Soren to write the book and what experiences he had to go through. Jesse missed Soren and reading his books made her remember the small moments she had with him.

"So, what happened at the bar?" Ivor asked curiously.

"He was being a jerk and talking about me to Aiden."

"Kid there has to be a reason what he said made you upset enough to hide in the treasure room of all places."

"Ok fine he said that I'm too weak to be the leader of the New Order of the Stone. That I wasn't physically and mentally strong enough for it." She shouted. After finally yelling out the feelings it still hurt, nothing changed. Out of nowhere she was embraced in a hug by Ivor.

"You are enough don't listen to stupid boys for their approval. You're stronger than them because you are the one that almost died so many times and still survived. You could have thrown your friends all away and just take all the glory and fame, but you were stronger and told the truth that the original Order of the Stone couldn't do."

She started to feel better about herself but still feel not enough for everyone around. She thought it might be better if they started some small talk about things that might make them both laugh.

"Ok if Petra is Gabrial, Olivia is Ellegaard, and Axel is Magnes does that make me you or Soren." Jesse giggled trying to lighten the mood.

"You are definitely Soren" he laughed. "You both worry a lot about people's opinions on things and especially about yourselves. You both need plans things ahead so everyone and thing is alright, but you both have a major fear of loss."

"Wait is that you saying that Lukas and you are similar?"

"I guess so, but don't you dare tell him I don't want him having a big ego."

Hearing knocking on the door they both adsum it was Lukas or Petra again.

"I should probably go get that, and thanks Ivor cheering me up." Jesse walks up towards the door dreading the conversation that she is going to have. When she opened it, she saw the back of Lukas. She never noticed until now how ripped and tattered Ocelot jacket is until then.

"You might want to get a new jacket soon; it looks like it's falling apart a little bit" Jesse informed. Lukas turned quick at her words she could tell that he was nervous as well now. She also noticed a burse that was forming on his cheek.

"I'm sorry in the bar I didn't mean you weren't strong I-"

"Then what did you mean by it because the way you were talking in there it made it seem that you knew what you were talking about." Jesse interrupted. She even started pouting trying to show how upset he really made her.

"I meant that I wanted to protect you and keep you safe because after the Wither Strom you were the leader and you almost died. Do you know how that would feel knowing that if I was there, I could have at least tried to save you?"

"Yes, Lukas I do know what it feels like because I lived through it." Jesse stormed off to the left trying to find a way to hide from Lukas without having to go back in the rain.

"I'm sorry Jesse I-"

"You know you say that a lot." She said in his face.

"I feel it a lot." When he said that it made her rethink this argument. She didn't want to hurt him she was just so annoyed that he felt like that was an okay way to describe her.

The two them just stood there staring back at each other. Jesse reached out for his hand and before she could grab it Lukas grabbed her face and kissed her.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Suptober 19 Oct.: Ladies

"He's a mess," Pamela said to Cas, as though it was a confidential statement. "I don't know how you put up with him."

deancas ust, fluffy everyone’s human, no-one’s dead, and dean owns a bar au

"Ladies, drinks are half-priced for another thirty minutes, so get your orders in now," Dean called out over the bar, to wild cheering from the booth nearest the pool tables.

"Another two pitchers of beer." Jody's voice punched through the cacophony; she was half-standing on her chair in a configuration of limbs that seemed highly risky to Cas. "What? Oh, and another bourbon flight."

"Four or eight?" Dean asked loudly.

"Yes!" Donna yelled back, and punctuated the affirmation with a "Whooo!" that set off the rest of the women at the table – Bess, Claire, someone named Patience Cas had only met an hour ago – with another round of rowdy applause.

"Oh, they are smashed," Pamela said under her breath. She wiped down a tray, fresh from the soapy sink of water, and set it up on the bar. "Cas, sweetheart, you need anything else before I deal with them?"

"No, thank you," Cas said. His three-quarters of a Harvestin' Maniac ale, featuring a skull on the label, would more than suffice. He was only drinking to be polite anyway.

"Y'know, I think it's interesting you call him sweetheart, and yet I'm standing right here, every day, offering to fulfill that role in your life." Dean set the first pitcher of foamy beer on Pamela's tray and gave her what Cas had heard Sam call his shit eating grin.

She snorted. "You, bubble-butt, wouldn't last thirty minutes 'in my life' outside of this dive." She made sarcastic finger gestures that Cas understood and approved of.

"But what a glorious thirty minutes," Dean said, faking a swoon while reaching for another rack for the bourbon shot glasses.

"He's a mess," Pamela said to Cas, as though it was a confidential statement. "I don't know how you put up with him."

Dean fumbled a squat bottle of bourbon out of his hands and swore under his breath as it apparently hit his foot and bounced away without shattering. 

"He is a very good person," Cas told Pamela, with sincerity. "It's no hardship to be his friend."

Something about the way he said it must have been funny, or strange; Pamela paused with her hand on one of the beer taps and just looked at him. He was pretty used to people not quite grasping what he meant. It didn't bother him as much as it had when he'd first entered whatever passed for normal life after all of those years locked away on the compound with his family. Still, sometimes he wished people would just ask him to clarify, because he'd always be willing to try.

He'd underestimated Pamela, though – the next thing she said, with her typical bluntness, was, "He hasn't asked you out yet, has he?" And before Cas could answer, she'd snapped her bar towel at Dean's arm.

"Ow, hey. Mercy," Dean said. The bourbon bottle he'd retrieved rattled onto the bartop. "What was that for?"

Pamela narrowed her eyes at him. "All week I've had to listen to you go on and on about this guy over here like he was spoken for and you were practically engaged to be married, and you haven't even asked him out for a drink?"

"What–" Cas said, beginning to be concerned there had been a true misunderstanding.

He was cut off by Dean hissing at her, "All right, Employee of the Month, take a fifteen minute break." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him until he hung his head for a second. "All right. All right."

"Dean, what–" Cas tried again.

Dean stepped over until he was right across the bar from Cas. His expression was peculiar only because Cas hadn't expected to see it directed at himself: soft, a little tentative. Not how Dean usually looked, carefree and jolly, the consummate barman, ready for everyone to have a good drink and a good time.

He looked younger, Cas thought. Vulnerable. Cas felt his heart rate increase in response.

"So," Dean said. "Hi." He smiled shyly.

"Hello," Cas said, since it seemed like the right thing to say back.

Dean took a deep breath. "Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?" 

His apprehensive tone puzzled Cas. "Yes." Cas paused. "We eat together several times a week." It never hurt to point out the obvious.

Pamela was shaking her head and pouring beer like the conversation she was witnessing was unbelievable and possibly tragic.

Dean made a sound in his throat barely audible over the clatter of the corner party. He looked somewhat pained, but took another breath and said, "What I meant was, would you like to go to dinner with me on a date." He locked eyes with Cas and waited.

Cas surprised himself by smiling right away; before he could even completely process what Dean was asking he was happy to nod. "Yes," he said simply. "I would."

Dean's warm, relieved smile was the nicest Cas one had ever seen.

"Whew, glad that's all cleared up," Pamela said as she headed toward the corner, full beer pitchers balanced expertly on her tray. "Now maybe some of us can get some work done around here for a change."

[oh-no-another-idea]

Find the word [tag]

*sees these words from the wonderful @artdecosupernova-writing* *runs to fill them out cackling* GUYS. THIS WOULD BE GREAT IF I HAD A CERTAIN SOMEONE WHO WAS INVISIBLE AND ALONE ALL THE TIME. 

[from The Invisible Girl]

Lost:

“He’s going to lose me,” Velia whispered. “He’s got to, at some point. Why does he have to be the way that he is?”

Paris was watching the top of her head, she was pretty sure. “Maybe he doesn’t have to lose you.”

Velia straightened up and sighed. Everyone lost at some point. Antonio hadn’t grown up as quickly as the rest of them, but he’d have to at some point. He had to.

Echo:

“Go to hell,” Lewis said bitterly. “This is why you’re always alone.”

Velia stopped a step away from the door, her vision turning red. “I understand why someone like me is always alone,” she ground out, voice low. “But why are you?” She left before she could hear his answer, slamming the door behind her. It echoed like the clang of a piece of armor shutting over her heart.

Alone:

“You’ve told me enough.” Antonio flushed, eyes dark and angry, every tight line of his shoulders and chest rigid. “Your days working alone, completely alone. The woman in charge, giving you a roof over your head in exchange for total deference. Six of you, all working as slaves for her, all of you going to bed hungry and scrapping for a place.”

Velia stared right back, his gaze pinning her in place. “Tell me more about myself, Antonio. Go on.”

“The people you live with,” Antonio said. “Do they see you?”

Solitude:

Paris knocked on the right door. Muffled steps approached and then Antonio’s face appeared. “No room service, thank you, I need to my solitude—Oh my God, Paris!”

The door flew open and Antonio seized Paris, kissing him square on the nose. Paris went unwillingly into the welcoming embrace, gently patting Antonio back once, twice, and then pushing him away.

“Velia,” Antonio said next, voice a little shaky. “I thought—”

“It was Fynn,” Velia said, pulling him into view, not ready for a hug or worse. “He got us aboard.”

Desperate:

Antonio was no better, squinting blearily back at her. A comb was a long lost memory for him too, it seemed. His hair had decided to stand on feet of its own and was entirely too long to do so. He needed a brush or a pair of scissors desperately.

“Was it my idea to get drunk before getting a mere four hours of sleep?” he inquired. At her nod, he just sighed. “Velia, would you please locate a poker to stick through my skull?”

Invisible:

“So, we should eavesdrop,” Antonio suggested. “If we know their scheme early, we’ll be able to thwart it.”

“Do you want to get killed?” Velia said, incredulous at his ignorance. “You won’t be doing anything. Leave the spying jobs to the invisible girl, alright?”

Whew, if you made it down here, congrats! Tags for anyone and also @sleepy-night-child @drippingmoon @elbritch-kit @rms-writes @aether-wasteland-s @indy-gray @avrablake @silverslipstream @on-noon and @author-a-holmes: your words are spice, shark, shatter, and salt 🎲

[writingdesk-ravings]

59. Night Light

Status: Unedited Words: 1518

The car had left the parking lot, and a few hours later we arrived home. Even when the car wasn’t moving the windshield wipers struggled against the falling snow. The car was parked right where the town ended and the forest began, just like always. And just like always, I would have gotten out of the back seat and walked the rest of the way.

Fabian spoke just as my hand made contact with the handle. “Can I ask you something?” He said it with that same boyish smile I always see him have when he’s talking to a new girlfriend at school. I don’t smile back but I do answer with a nod. “Do you think we could stay at your house, just until the storm passes?” I wanted to say no. Everyone knew the rule was to never go to my house, but looking at the snowstorm, something human in me stirred. “We’re going to die if we don’t.” It was obvious that Ava was teasing, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Fine, but you listen to me.”

It was strange how quickly the storm cleared once we were near the house. Both of them stopped just before the fence and stared as if they were trying to make sure they were seeing right, even in the slightly-less-freezing-than-a-minute-ago weather. The lights in the eyes of the skulls on top of the fence were a beacon I often used in rough weather. I held open the creaky bone fence so that they wouldn’t have to touch any of it.

“Shoes off,” I said while I hit Ava on the shoulder lightly. They moved around silently and walked to the living room. Fabian was trying to act casual, but it was obvious he was on the lookout for anything else made of bones. Ava was just quiet. They sat down stiffly on the couch, and I took up my spot in my mother’s armchair. This was fine. She wouldn’t know. I would clean up before she got home.

Shit.

My walk through the house was slow, and accompanied by curious stares. No footsteps from upstairs, so she wasn’t there. I placed my ear on the old basement door. It was quiet there too. That was good. Quiet was good. I peeked my head into the kitchen. There were dirtied plates still in the sink. Clean those later.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

“So, why doesn’t your Mom let you have people over?” Fabian asked tentatively. “She likes privacy, we both do. But I think she’s just paranoid something happens to the chickens.” “You guys have chickens?” Ava spoke for the first time since we passed the fence. The air in the room seemed a bit calmer. “Yeah, I told you. That one time after the movie.” I cast a quick glance out of the window. The snowstorm was still going strong. At this rate, they’d have to stay the night. That wasn’t good.

“Yeah, I remember now. Honestly, I thought you were joking.” I couldn’t blame her. There weren’t many farmers in the area and it sounded weird enough in context at the time. “I saw you guys have a doggy door,” Fabian said through the awkward silence. “Do you have a dog?” “Yeah, he helps keep an eye on the chickens. Fights off coyotes, you know?” That was completely untrue. He was little more than a puppy, barely an adolescent and no other animals dared to venture near our house. “Is he… outside?” He didn’t sound completely sure of the question or himself. “No. I’m pretty sure he’s asleep right now. He gets stressed out during storms.” The dog bed was in my room and even if the little guy was a bit stupid he wouldn’t be out in weather like this. The wind howled and I decided to light a fire, at least for their sake. 

A movie filled the awkward silence and everything seemed to lift. We made a few jokes and Fabian paused now and then to make silly plot predictions. If I just hid them in the guest room when my mother came home, and let them out the next time she left everything would be fine.

Soft, clawed steps echoed from the top of the stairs, My dog slipped into the room with his nose to the ground. He saw the two on the couch and let out an ear-shattering bark. Both of them jumped back as he continued to growl. “Down, boy. Here!” He quickly jumped to my side, making himself comfortable on the floor all the while keeping an eye on the pair of guests. Some of his long hair joined the black clumps of it that already littered the carpet. “Um, he looks…nice,” Fabian said. Nikita was about hip-height when on all fours, and usually more cuddly. Though at that moment, he seemed just a little bit upset that his spot was taken. He growled lowly as Ava tiptoed out of her seat. “I think I’m going to check on the car.” She rushed out before I could say anything.

The storm outside could hardly be called that, but the snow still fell. I hoped she had a good enough sense of direction to make it back to the car. Worst case scenario she gets lost and freezes to death.

Nikita walked to where Ava was sitting but seemed to realize there wasn’t enough room for him with Fabian still there. He let out a puff of hair and plopped himself back down on the floor. “What kind of treats does he like?”

Fabian had about three dogs of his own, so I knew he’d be at least a little bit eager to try and befriend Nikita. I smiled while looking at the dog chew at that slightly itchy spot in his paw. “I can get you some of the treats he likes. I think he’ll warm up to you more if you feed him.” Fabian immediately nodded, looking at Nikita in quick bursts. 

I grabbed a few treats just in case and when I got back to the living room Nikita was busy circling Fabian. I let out a whistle to get him to back off and walked up to Fabian to hand him one of the treats. He gripped the finger for only a second before dropping it in surprise. Nikita was on it as soon as it hit the ground and already seemed more comfortable around Fabian now that he knew there was food. 

Fabian looked up at me, eyes blown wide. I pulled another finger from my pocket and held it out for him to take. “Well,” I asked, “do you want him to trust you or not?” He pushed a shaky hand forward to grip the severed gray finger. He pinched it between his own fingers, and it looked like he was trying to touch it with as little as him as possible. He held it at Nikita’s eye level and slowly moved the treat forward. Still, the dog snapped at it, nearly nipping his fingers. After Nikita was finished eating he pushed his nose up against Fabian’s thigh. He gave him a half-hearted head rub. He looked out of the window at the softly falling snow and then back at the crackling fire. 

Nikita left the room shortly after to go back upstairs and everything was quiet.

Fabian stood up. “I should go check on Ava. Thanks for the - um - everything, Lisa.” I followed him to the door and when he shot me a questioning look I said, “ I open the gate for you, you seem squeamish around bones.” He chuckled at that before we walked to the edge of my home in silence. 

I opened the gate for him and despite my better judgment called out to stop him just before he left. I took one of the skulls off from the top of the fence and handed it to him. The flames in the eyes glowed brightly against the opaque white around us. “Just in case, so that you don’t get lost on your way.” He took it with an uncomfortable look on his face and as he walked away, I wondered for a moment if I had done the right thing.

*It was early morning, and the snow had stopped falling. I didn’t stay up late enough to see my mother return home. The window to my room was covered in frost and I tiredly made my way over to it to clean it. I saw the fence. My mother was by it, replacing the skull that I had given to Fabian. She craned her neck up at the window and gave me a disapproving look, visible even from all the way down there. I laid back down in my bed and turned on the radio. The morning news report filled the chilly air: Ava Harrison was missing. In actuality, she was on our fence. Or more precisely, a piece of her was on our fence. I suppose her sense of direction wasn’t that good.

[bee-barnes-author]

DYING ON THE FIRST DATE EXCERPT

Chapter 1

A shark is…latched onto my throat. Sucking my life right out of me. No. I blink twice in an unsuccessful attempt to clear my vision. Not a shark. My date for the New Year’s party. He’s got his teeth clamped down around my throat and he’s moaning obscenely as my blood flows into his maw.

How did this-?

He pets my face and I fall backwards into myself. Into my soul. For a moment I'm suspended between consciousness and not, and I can feel it all. My blood rushing towards the wound vacuum sealed by his mouth. His pronged tongue flicking greedily over the holes in my flesh. I shudder, cold, disgusted to my core.

And then I’m free falling into blackness.

***

I’m in the arms of a man I don’t know. Our feet glide gracefully over smooth hardwood floors. Rock music blares from the speakers, but we’re stepping an elegant waltz across the empty room full of other couples just like us. I feel like I’m floating.

It takes effort, but I strain and engage the muscles in my neck. I’m only successful in turning my head an inch or so. It hurts to pull any further, like I’m…tearing myself apart. I want to look at my handsome dance partner. When I picture his face, his features blur, like there’s a thick film of vaseline over him. I cry out in pain hear a noise and it’s so close that I feel the vibration of it in my ears.

The hosts of the dance party have wrapped yellow twinkle lights along the rafters on the ceiling. I stare until my eyes burn and I’m forced to blink. “Who are you?” I ask my handsome date in a dazed, high, girlish voice.

His lips make a wet squelching noise when he breaks the seal his mouth made against my neck. He’s breathless, and I feel him panting on my cheek. I want to gag at the stinking copper moisture of his mouth. “Why, I’m your handsome date.” He says, and I smile because he’s right. Of course, how could I have forgotten? “And we’re dancing the night away.” He finishes speaking and fixes his mouth right back at my throat.

We don’t dance.

We sway out of sync with the music. Just the two of us lovers caught up in our own little world. He spins me and a laugh like crystal echoes in my head. He’s killing me. My handsome date works his jaw to bite deeper into my flesh. My left arm twitches violently and I knock over a wine glass. It crashes to the floor. Shatters into a puddle of shards and red wine.

I blink and time moves backward in a flash of light. I’m watching a past version of myself through a stranger's eyes. Me from before breaks off with her friend group. I cry out wordlessly, trying to warn us against splitting from the safety of numbers for even a moment.It’s useless. I am nothing more than a wisp in this memory, and I cannot hear myself scream. Past me totters off to the bar. I remember it seemed like I was a sole salmon trying to swim upstream.

Then a bear’s paw cut through the river and caught me by my gills.

My handsome date is indeed very handsome now that I can recall him clearly. His crow-black hair makes his skin seem so pale it appears translucent. In fact, I can see his veins in his neck and face if I look carefully. He’s wearing black jeans, a white t-shirt, black leather boots, and a black leather jacket. “There you are.” He says, and his voice is like silk. He speaks to me like he’s known me forever. Impatiently, too, like he’s been looking for me all night.

“Who are you?” Déjà vu throbs through me.

“Why, I’m your handsome date.” He finishes, and I watch him from a third person perspective. He crowds against past-me, pressing my bare back against the brick wall of the club. The brick vibrates from the volume of the music. I remember it made tingles trickle up my spine to my skull and made me feel dizzy. “Come with me.” He says and I obey mindlessly.

I’m just a lucky gal on a date with a swell guy. I know this because he tells me so. The ghostly apparition that I am, I can now see my friends calling to me. Demanding to know where I was going. “Who is that guy?” Tessa has to shout to be heard over the thumping bass. I don’t even turn my head. Past-me is deaf to it all.

I feel a mental shove, and then suddenly my mind is back in my own body. “Sneaking around in my brain won’t save you.”

My head flops forward, and I’m forced to look him in the face. The lower half is glittering and wet with my blood. He has to hold my head still. I’m limp like an infant, reliant on my captor to prop me up. I’m drifting, floating while a single word swirls around my brain.

Vampire.

[drjdorr]

"So how long has it been since you heard from that facility now? Five? Ten minutes?" Zarra asked the crime lord, a cocky smile on her face despite the ropes binding her to the chair

"Quite" the crime lord said as he nervously paced

"He should be here soon, I'd make amends with any gods you worship"

"I said quite!" His hand smacks against her face out of frustration

"Hehe," she chuckles, the smile still on her face, "you call that a smack? Where I grew up, a hit like that is a sign my mother was having a good day." Suddenly the lights went out and the machinery around them whirred to a stop. "I'd start praying if I was you, before it's too late"

With the power cut the room was dark save the light from the skylight above but these guys hadn't gotten so high in the organization to work directly under the boss by not being able to deal with a bit of darkness. Anyways, there was only one way in and the moment he stepped through that door, he'd be swiss cheese

The room was silent. No one moved, no one even breathed.

Then with a CRASH of shattering glass Jysgo landed as two thugs crumpled to the ground, two bullets expertly placed in the base of their skulls. Jysgo's eyes then rose to meet the crime lord's who saw only death in the drow’s.

Jysgo rose to his height and began advancing on the crime lord, his guns smoothly snapping from goon to goon, each bullet another death as his eyes never left the leader. The crime lord had been in many shoot outs, you don't get into his position without getting your hands dirty on occasion, but he had never seen someone be so casual surrounded by gunfire, not even breaking stride to dodge the knife stab before blowing out the over extending attacker's brain or having a fleeing criminal's brain touch the door right before his fingers would have. Soon only Jysgo, the crime lord, and Zarra remained in the room as Jysgo looked at the crime lord

"Kneel" Jysgo said, his tone almost bored as he glanced over to Zarra to check on her

"I'm sorry, you do not get to-" the crime lord drops to the ground screaming as Jysgo rolled his eyes and used a pair of shots to cause his kneecaps to shatter

"I said kneel" Jysgo said as he sat the muzzle of the gun against his forehead, a pull of the trigger and the crime lord's brain stem would receive a new open concept floor plan.

"P-please" the crime lord begged, the tears unclear if they were from fear or pain "l-let me go, I'll go straight, I'll leave town, you will never see or hear from me again, just let me go please"

Jysgo looked at him, so pathetic, only two bullet wounds and a gun to his head and he's begging for his life. The man wouldn't last a day among Jysgo's people.

"You know," Jysgo said, "I believe you." his gun began to lower, a glimmer of hope entering the crime lord's eyes. But as his gun was passing over his stomach Jysgo continued, "but you hurt Zarra" before firing into his gut twice.

the crime lord shuddered from the shots and was about to topple when Jysgo caught him by his suit coat.

"not risking you having this" Jysgo said as he pulls out the dying man's gun from his pocket and releasing him to fall onto the floor. "not a bad gun" he says before pocketing it.

he walked over to Zarra "are you ok?"

"I'm not a baby Jysgy. Is Grabbyhands ok?" Zarra knew her brother cared but this was a slow Tuesday compared to back home, though he probably wasn't to use to it given he was the reason someone's Tuesday quickly became less slow

"your rat is fine" Jysgo dismissed her customary correction as he gave a whistle and the door handle gave a jiggle before opening to a racoon that quickly ambled over toward Zarra excitedly

"Mr.Grabbyhands! I'm so happy you're ok" Zarra stepped out of the ropes she had untied an hour ago to embrace her pet

"found him near where you were taken. turns out they didn't want a little garbage eating dog" Jysgo said watching the reunion

"Racoon! And he doesn't eat garbage he eats your food"

"not really endearing me to him, but he was almost as impatient to find you as I was. darn mole almost got me shot trying to attack a thug when he didn't stand a chance against"

"Racoon! but... thank you for saving him Jysgy. I know you aren't fond of him but it means alot that you tried to save him" Zarra hoisted up the wriggling mass of fur as Grabbyhands crawled onto her shoulders

"don't get me wrong, he drives me up the wall, but that little skunk makes you happy." Jysgo said looking at the masked critter "that being said, the moment that isn't the case he is getting kicked out of my house"

Zarra gave Jysgo a small punch on the arm "you will have to wait a long time then"

"ughh" the dying man moaned in pain

Zarra walked over to the man before taking out a case from her pocket and setting down a few small flowers "Hemlock" she explained before walking over to leave with Jysgo

[joytraveler]

#42: The Death Master

"Yeah, if it was just Death Master that'd be one thing, but this is THE Death Master! Meaning if I wanna master death, this is the guy to train with! I have a huge thumb wrestling match with Death coming up so I should probably train and grow strong"

Lightning crackles on the title screen and THE DEATH MASTER logo shatters out of a towering monolith with a shower of blood(??) A barely-dressed, axe-wielding barbarian hero appears over the Press Start prompt, and begins swinging his huge battle axe at nothing.

Chillarmy_The_Bee: start playing, chop chop! Heheh aroseahorseboy: see, this is men being reduced to sex objects

"I know isn't it great?" Bea can't press start fast enough!

"This looks SUPER oldschool NES so you know it's gonna be hard, no rest for your poor queen I guess" She pouts.

This game is very much in the flavor of an early hack-n-slash like Rastan or Trojan. You really are the Death Master, all the monsters are SUPER easy to kill, and there's tons of blood! EVERYTHING bleeds red blood, from orcs and goblins, to plant monsters, robots and ghosts!

Butterfly_Defect: damn, you are destroying this entire country! Will anything be alive when Bea is done? Karbokarr: Axe dude is merciless Baconnaise: The MUSHROOM is bleeding.

She takes out horde after horde of enemies. "This is like the opposite of Samurai Jack, everything I cut turns to blood instead of robots! But I can't help but feel like this wasn't balanced that well? I think I can die but I'd have to let it happen!"

"I'm trying to think of something to name this guy and Alonzo keeps coming to mind" Despite the gruesome sprays of pixelated blood, he does have a certain charm.

The final stage is a cemetery town, where ghosts, ghouls and reapers swarm around 'Alonzo' and are dutifully chopped into alpo! It's been a fun ride even if it was way too easy. "At least we haven't been killing people, I don't think? Unless he burned down the towns we've gone through"

Boss time is upon us, though... And it's a Grim Reaper that's about two screens tall! Alonzo has to ride his scythe up when he swings it and swing at his face as he falls back down!

"That's a whole lotta Death" Bea mutters as the battle begins. She adapts pretty quickly but this is surely the toughest fight yet, no button mashing to victory this time!

"These games are definitely getting better as we keep going, we've come a long way from 'This Isn't A Snake Clone With A Tapeworm We Promise'" She hums the Kid Icarus fanfare as she refuses to fear the reaper.

Finally, with just a couple well-placed chops each, Alonzo scatters all the Reaper's bones but one-- the skull, which bounces helplessly around as they finally hit the floor below. One more smack, and it falls in half, dry and empty!

"Annnd here comes the candy- oh" She looks a little disappointed. "Oddly enough the final boss is the least bloody one! What a... BONE head!"

"Wait don't unsubscribe yet I'll have another joke in a minute, I promise"

The reaper's cloak comes fluttering down, and lands on Alonzo-- and his eyes glow red.

The words bleed onto the screen like open wounds: [YOU ARE THE DEATH MASTER.]

"Death master, reaper blaster, my axe is also a stratocaster! BWEEOWOWOWOWOW! That's how a guitar sounds right?"

"So! Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds! Uh... Not sure how to feel about this? Surely I done good?"

As Death-Alonzo flies off into the sky... The previous levels pass by, and all the monsters, orcs and ogres you dispatched are returned to life! Some even have families, wives and children to embrace them with joy!

Karbokarr: wow, undoing all the damage DueyDecimal: It was... All worth it?

"Master of Mood Whiplash!" She watches in awe, and also in 'awww!' "What a nice way to end a gruesome slaughterfest! Not at all what I expected but I'm not complaining!"

Finally the Death Master lands in front of a grave with piles of fresh earth and pauses. Then he drops to one knee, head hung.

[THE DEATH MASTER CAN UNDO ANY DEATH IT HAS CAUSED.] [GOOD NEWS. IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT.]

"I... I.. I didn't want feels, don't do this to me"

"Aw hell, who's in the ground? Mom? Dad? Brother? Sister?? Was there an intro I skipped???"

Syrupentine: T___T aroseahorseboy: not much plot till the end but GEEZ

"If you guys picked up on something I missed lemme know. But..damn. Did we kill everyone and revive them for nothing?"

Syrupentine: I don't think there was any clue beforehand, no HNV: Maybe you were trying to clear your name? Or... no, if you can only revive things YOU killed, that would prove you did it DueyDecimal: You thought you were guilty but you weren't... Yay?

[reverend-dog]

Maximum Mandy

Even without the damage caused by the crash and explosion, the craft clearly was not meant for humans. “Agh, shit!” Mandy cursed as she rammed her skull into an overhead beam. That she measured taller than average for her gender and possessed all the grace of a newborn giraffe helped the situation not at all.

“That’s three,” Bernard teased from behind her. “Two more, and I win the pool.”

Mandy turned to glare at him. “You guys have a pool on me?” she demanded. “Could you be any more juvenile?”

Bernard grinned. Mandy would not have seen his expression through his visor, except for the contrast between his teeth and skin. “Wait until you hear about the prize,” he taunted further.

“Spare me,” Mandy snorted, and started to turn and face forward again when a glow caught her eye. It came from behind Bernard, in an alcove formed by a buckled bulkhead. “Check that out,” she urged with a pointing finger, then followed her own direction and clambered toward it, taking extra care against further collisions.

The alcove turned out to be a hatchway, the glow coming from within. “Whoa,” commented Bernard, who then consulted his wrist-mounted geiger counter. “Negative on radiation, but be careful! I’d go in with you,” he patted his well-fed paunch, “but, well….”

“Right,” Mandy acknowledged, and wedged herself through the opening.

What purpose the room served remained a mystery. Racks lined the walls, most filled with crystalline cylinders that radiated light in various colors. Shards littered the deck where some cylinders had fallen from their cradles and shattered. Mandy rotated in a slow circle, so her helmet camera could take in a panorama of the chamber.

As she turned, Mandy failed to notice one cylinder sticking halfway out of its cradle until it tugged on her sleeve. She spun in time to see the cylinder slide fully out, and snatched at it with both hands. One hand managed a grip, but the cylinder weighed more than Mandy could manage. Mandy stared in horror as the glowing length of crystal fell to the deck and shatter. Purple radiance bathed the room.

“Mandy!” Bernard yelled through the hatchway. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mandy snapped, annoyed with herself.

“Did you knock something over?” Bernard asked.

“Why?” Mandy retorted. “You got a pool on that, too?” She looked down at her suit, inspecting it for tears, and heaved a sigh of relief that it appeared to be still intact. The light from the shattered cylinder suffused the room, but was she imagining things… or was she glowing too?

“I’m coming out,” she told Bernard. “Let’s finish our sweep so the sensor team can come in.”

Back at base, the two endured decontamination before stripping out of their hazard suits. Spartan accommodations mandated they do so in the same room, for safety and efficiency.

“Mandy,” Bernard wondered aloud as he shrugged into a clean shirt, “are you… humming?”

Mandy blinked and stopped the melody that lived in her throat. “I was,” she marveled. “For some stupid-ass reason, I feel really… good.” She smiled, and could not restrain a completely un-Mandy-like giggle.

Bernard frowned, brow furrowed. “You sure you’re okay?” he pressed.

“I’m fine!” Mandy insisted. “Stop looking at me like that, or your face’ll stick that way!”

Bernard’s face kept its scowl, but panic flared in his eyes. He pressed his hands to his cheeks and wailed. “Holy shit! My face! It’s stuck!”

“Haha,” Mandy scoffed. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“I’m not joking!” Bernard cried. “I can’t move my face!” He dug his fingers in, as if to drag his features into a different expression. “Mandy, what did you do?”

“What did I do?” Mandy echoed with indignation. “What makes you think I did anything?”

“You said it,” Bernard exclaimed, “and it happened! How else do you explain it?”

“Stop it, Bernard!” Mandy commanded, a tremble of anxiety in her tone. “Put your face back the way it ought to be!”

Bernard’s features abruptly relaxed. “Thank Christ,” he sighed, rubbing his face. Then his expression stretched in wonder. “Hey,” he demanded, “my scar! Where’s my scar?”

Mandy studied Bernard’s face. From their first meeting, she had noted the deep crease along the right side of his jaw, souvenir of an unruly horse. Now, the flesh there stretched pristine, save for a slight case of stubble. As she stared, Mandy recalled a sense-memory from the past moment: filaments of energy like strings on a planchette, but instead of a marionette she tugged on matter, making it dance to her tune.

“Bernard,” Mandy spoke in slow, measured tones, “do you want your scar back?”

Bernard stared at her. “What kind of question is that?” he cried. “Of – wait.” His brow furrowed again, this time in thought. “Mandy,” he matched her enunciation, “what happened to you in that ship?”

Mandy took her time to construct her answer. “I think,” she replied, “I took a bath in alien propulsion. And I think it left a mark on me.” She explained the sensation when Bernard’s face had frozen, then again when it changed to its current, unmarked state.

“Holy shit,” Bernard breathed. “We gotta tell --”

“No!” Mandy interjected. “I am not going to wind up a test subject!”

“But Mandy,” Bernard protested, “that’s what the project is all about!”

“Not for me,” Mandy decreed. “Please, Bernard. Don’t --” she stopped, horrified at what she nearly said. “Just don’t. For me. Please.”

“Sorry, Mandy,” Bernard shook his head as he backed away, toward the intercom panel on the locker room wall. “It’s for the best.”

“Stop,” Mandy commanded. She stepped close to Bernard, who did made a convincing facsimile of a wax statue except for his eyes, which darted back and forth. “I know you mean well, Bernard,” Mandy whispered, “but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in a cage.” She took a moment to think, then leaned in close to his ear. “This is what happened,” she murmured. “You saw me go into that room on the ship. You heard something break, and me scream. By the time you managed to get in there, all you found was my empty suit. You brought it back with you.”

Mandy drew a finger along Bernard’s jaw, and the flesh there puckered into a pink furrow. “Goodbye, Bernard,” she whispered. “It’s been real.”

Mandy turned, pulled reality open, and stepped through.