#ive been awake. uh one second.

[newdayslinguine]

Im going to finish watching twenty five twenty one tomorrow and I don’t think im ready to do that

[iid-smile]

Hiii, I know this is probably a weird request and if it's triggering or just something you'd not want to write I totally understand!!! Just was thinking if you could write Nanami or Toji with a s/o who's always had their family manage their eating in an obsessive way so they sometimes have trouble with it and their weight. And they'd help them through it???

If not it's totally okayy, I also love your work a lot hust wanted to swoop that in here🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lots of lovee

perfect portion , fushiguro toji

x gn!reader , toji swearing, cw: mentions of scales, weight, not eating enough, body image, and food.

author's note: i decided to go with toji (which was very much a struggle) since i thought i had enough of nanami on my page (its a love hate relationship at this point) but if you want him instead, or don't like this one (i dont like it either because i clearly gave up at the end) slide in again and i'll deliver just for you!!!! 🫵😤 also i didn't proofread because i pushed through my writers block for this

thank you for your love anon! 🫶 i hope you enjoy!

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the jingling of keys in the distance was a sign that toji finally came home. you could hear his heavy footsteps walking around the house, before coming towards the bedroom where you lay on the bed.

after opening the door, he lets out a sigh. "stay awake for me, sugar. 'm gonna order us pizza." his voice is barely comprehensible from his mumbles, but since it's such a common phrase, you understand what he says.

"oh..." your voice lightens and a short, near sheepish chuckle comes from you. "no, no thanks. i think ive had enough meals today."

he so obviously screws his face from what you said, not that you're looking, and he drops off a few belongings that were in his pockets onto the dresser before glancing over his shoulder. "what?"

in surprise, you look up from your phone. yes, sometimes toji could be a bit pushy with what he wants, but you're sure that the way you said no was obvious that you did not want to be convinced about it. did he not hear you right? "i said i ate enough today."

he scoffs, turning around to face you. "uh...no the fuck you didn't?"

"i did...? i'm sure i did. i told you."

"oh, come on. do you think i'm stupid now? is that it?"

"what?"

"i called you at three in the afternoon, and only then were you telling me you were having breaktast. you woke up way before me." he gestures over to the clock on the wall. "and look at the time. it's nine, and i only saw one dish in the sink."

"yeah. i ate."

"okay. fine, fine. i'll assume the best." he sighs in resignation, turning around and eyeing a piece of paper that he just now noticed was on the dresser. "and what the hell is this? what d'ya need these numbers for, huh?"

that was not supposed to be there for him to see. your eyebrows furrow, but you try to play off your tone as natural. "y'know... from the scale 'n stuff..."

"scale? what scale—? you bought a scale without telling me?"

mistake. well, your first mistake was not asking what he was actually referring to. he didn't notice that anyways, but your second was accidentally telling him that you bought a scale. "well, every house has one, don't they?"

toji was genuinely so flabbergasted to the point where he had to shake his head in disbelief. "not this one, no. because nobody needs one." his steps are obnoxiously loud as he approaches your side."hell, this isn't even about money anymore. why would you need a scale of all things?"

"..." his responses were fast. too fast, and faster than usual. it would've been easier if this was over text, but in person? it's ten times more difficult to think of an excuse. "because i need one." was the first one you thought of.

"who's been telling you to use a scale?"

"nobody..."

"nobody?"

"nobody."

"somebody, clearly. you think you just wake up one day, start writin' down your weight like it's important." he scrunches up the paper, tossing it off somewhere out of your sight. "it's fine, you look fine, and 'm ordering pizza because i want you to eat it."

"and i shouldn't—" you look down at your phone that you put down next to you at some point in the conversation, a notification flashing on the screen, but you weren't paying attention to that. you were looking at the time. around about now would you be getting a weight check...

"who the fuck's sayin' that? sayin' for you not to eat like that? 'cause it's not me." and he leans in closer to you. "so, who's tellin' you to use a scale?"

silence. long and loud. this was one of the last things you'd ever want to admit to him. he's a guy that's extremely proud of his strength, stays in great shape, unreal body proportions, and you're just... you. there's nothing special about you, about your appearance, about your body.

"listen, i won't do anything you don't want me to..." his face suddenly grows to look conflicted, and though the times he does are rare, he makes an effort to soften his voice. "tell me one thing. are you hungry?"

as much as you want to hesitate, as much as you want to put your foot down and say no, your stomach is telling you something different. you're more surprised that the entire time toji has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't heard how ungodly audible your stomach growls can really get. the urge is unstoppable; you just had to nod.

"then what are you waiting for? i'll order whatever you're craving." and out the bedroom he goes, making his way over to the house phone in the hallway. "if it would make you feel better, i'll eat the same amount as you do, so i can show you that it's okay. no more small portions for you."

"and if it makes me unhealthy? if i get sick?" you sound a little amused.

the tapping noises on the phone stops. toji didn't think about that part. "...i'll take you to the hospital. tell me what you want to eat 'n give me the takeout number."

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[munson-blurbs]

Chapter 1: Got the News Today, Doctor Said I Had to Stay

Collaboration with the fabulous @corroded-hellfire

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: When you're stuck in the hospital after the Hawkins "earthquake," you're surprised to find comfort in your new roommate, Eddie Munson. But when you find out that your injuries may compromise your dreams, the cheery façade threatens to come crashing down.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, controlled use of pain medication

WC: 3.9k

A/N: There will be six chapters to this series, one for each Jonas Brothers album. Try to spot the Easter eggs we've planted throughout!

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“I said, get this murderer out of my room!” A shrill voice from across the hall startles you from your sleep. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:05, but you can’t be sure if it’s morning or evening. The bright lights of Hawkins General Hospital have your internal clock all jumbled, and the constant barrage of nurses checking on you certainly doesn’t help. 

“He should be locked up in prison or rotting on death row, not using precious resources that could be used on law-abiding citizens!” the shrieking woman continues, and you grimace as your head throbs. It seems like the pain never ceases; it only travels around your body. You’ve been here for two days, and you have more questions than answers. 

There’s quiet for a few moments before the door to your room swings open and a second bed is being wheeled in, more IV lines hooked up to the poor patient than you’ve got going on. A nurse pulls the curtain separating the two sides of the room before you can get a look at whoever is lying in the bed. 

“Well, that was a record,” a male voice says from the other side of the curtain. “How long before that one freaked out? Six minutes?”

No one answers the man, but you can hear nurses and orderlies setting up any equipment the patient would need. 

“Don’t blame them,” a woman eventually mumbles, moving a machine over. “Kid killed a cheerleader and then fled the scene. I wouldn’t wanna bunk with him, either.”

A new pair of footsteps joins the crowded room, but this time it’s just your nurse, Mandy, coming in to check on you. She’s a pretty blonde woman, and though she’s usually smiling, her lips are puckered into a pout. 

“I know this is far from ideal,” she says softly, checking your vitals and marking notes on her chart, “but we’ll have people in here making sure nothing happens, okay?”

“I think she’s pretty harmless, just loud,” you lightly joke, assuming that Mandy’s referring to the banshee across the hall. “Worst thing she’ll do is trigger a migraine.”

She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’m talking about your, uh, new roommate. Edward Munson.”

Well, that explains the whole murderer outburst. Still, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Eddie? I went to school with him. Guy couldn’t even be bothered to turn in his part of a group project; I highly doubt he could pull off a murder.” You’d think he would have had something done, considering it was his second time taking O’Donnell’s senior English class, but he’d shown up empty-handed, leaving his poor partner scrambling at the last minute. 

Mandy nods, looking a little relieved herself. Maybe the thought of her having to be his nurse had been eating at her. 

“Is he awake?” you ask. You can only assume he’s not, because the Eddie Munson you remembered would never have been quiet for this long. 

“Sleeping,” Mandy says. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Um.” You wrinkle up your nose as you think, a sharp pain taking that moment to shoot down your leg. “When can I get some more pain medication? And food?” 

Going through the papers in your chart, Mandy’s eyes scan lines of writing until she comes to the answer she needs. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes until I can give you your next dose. Luckily, dinner should be here quicker than that.” 

“Okay,” you say with a sigh, sinking back against your pillows. 

After another round of pain meds, you’re able to drift off into a light sleep. You don’t have dreams on the medication; you’re simply floating in a haze of pinks and purples. Perhaps the dreamlessness is a good thing, considering the memories buried deep inside your unconscious mind. Your roommate is not so fortunate. 

“No! Stop!” Eddie whimpers from the bed next to you, startling you from your sleep. You can see through the translucent curtain that he’s trying to thrash, but his injuries limit his movements. “Henderson, help me! Get me out of here!” 

“Hey,” you whisper, but when he cries out again, you raise your voice slightly. “Eddie, wake up!” 

“I won’t run away, didn’t run away, gotta save Chrissy,” he mumbles, still trapped in his nightmare. “Don’t let me die. Don’t wan’ die.” The urgency in his tone falters, and you realize that he’s crying. 

“Eddie, you’re alive!” you call out to him, wishing you had the strength to walk to him and shake him awake. “You survived the earthquake, okay? But you gotta wake up!”

You watch as he jolts up involuntarily, groaning loudly as pain blooms throughout his torso. “Fuck,” he moans, clutching his ribs with one arm. “Wha—where am I? Oh, shit.” He lays back down as the realization sets in. He tries to choke back a sob, inadvertently sending himself into a coughing fit. 

“Here,” you call out to him, grabbing the cup of water on your bedside table. “Can you open the curtain and reach?”

Eddie’s able to yank back the cloth fabric, but neither of you can move close enough for him to grasp onto the cup. The two of you are confined to hospital beds, arms outstretched pathetically just to pass a glass of water. The scene is so absurd that you have to laugh. 

“You think—cough—this is—cough—funny?” Eddie asks, but his grin indicates that he also finds it amusing. “I survived the Up—earthquake, and—cough—now I’m gonna die from—cough—lack of water?”

“‘M sorry,” you manage between peals of laughter. “I’m just imagining how ridiculous we’d look to someone passing by.”

Eddie uses his last bit of strength to lunge, finally securing the cup and guzzling down the water. “Thanks, um…” He cranes his neck to see your name written on the whiteboard above your bed. “Oh, shit! Did we go to high school together?”

You nod. “We did. I graduated last year. We had Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class together.”

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of his least favorite teacher. “Ugh, yeah. I mean, not ugh that we had a class together; ugh at O’Donnell,” he blabbers. “And an extra ugh for me having to take that class again this year.”

“I thought a certain metalhead was missing from graduation,” you tease. 

“Aw, you noticed?” Eddie’s smirk makes you laugh, the pain meds probably adding to your bubbly mood. 

“Well, no one caused a commotion or flipped off old man Higgins, so yeah,” you say. “And there was a distinct lack of Black Sabbath blaring through the parking lot.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Gotta stay inspired, y’know? I don’t want to be one of those musicians who has someone write their shit for them. It makes it less real, or whatever.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You write all of Corroded Coffin’s music?” you ask incredulously.

Eddie nods. “Well, me and the rest of the guys—wait,” he pauses, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you know the name of my band?”

“Mhm,” you pick at the itchy wool blanket draped over your legs. “You played at the middle school talent show. I was in seventh grade, so you must’ve been in eighth.”

He doesn’t say anything for a bit; he just studies your face until a huge grin forms from cheek to cheek. “You’re the dancer!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You did that routine with the, um, the fancy shoes…” 

“Pointe shoes,” you giggle. “Yeah, people weren’t too impressed. Apparently a twelve-year-old flailing on stage to Swan Lake was not the hit I’d thought it’s be.” 

“Flailing?” Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, you were amazing. Don’t tell my friends, but I, uh, secretly wanted you to win.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, you.” He matches your surprised tone, making you laugh again. “I thought it was totally badass, getting up there and doing ballet when all the other girls were jumping around to Blondie.”

“Don’t knock Debbie Harry,” you warn him teasingly, poking your forefinger in his direction. “She is an icon, and you will show her some respect.”

Eddie brings a hand to his heart. “My deepest apologies, to both you and Ms. Harry.” He flashes another sweet smile that could melt an iceberg. “But I really did want you to win. I’ve always rooted for the underdog.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” And you do. It’s nice to know that someone besides your parents believed in you. 

“You, uh, you still dance?” Eddie asks abruptly. 

“Yup,” you tell him, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s actually what I go to school for.”

“Good,” Eddie muses, averting his gaze from your side of the room. “You were too talented to give that up.”

You’re about to respond when there’s a knock on the door and you see an orderly walk in with a food tray. You drop your head back on your pillow, humming your happiness. The orderly sets your table within your reach before placing your tray on it. Before the man can even step out the door to grab Eddie’s food, you’re inhaling the soup you’ve been given. You’re distantly aware as Eddie gets his food, but you’re busy trying to figure out what type of soup it is. Is that potato in it? 

A groan from the other side of the curtain has you looking in Eddie’s direction as you swallow a mouthful of soup.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, clearly lying.

“If we’re going to be roommates, we’re going to have to learn to be honest with one another.”

He huffs a laugh as he clangs his silverware together. “S’just that it’s gonna sound ridiculously stupid after what everyone has been through.”

“Humor me,” you say before ladling another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I got green Jell-O. I hate that shit.” 

Your eyes lock on your own Jell-O, bright red where it sits next to your piece of bread and cup of water. “How do you feel about red?”

“Much better,” Eddie says, tearing off a piece of his own bread and shoving it into his mouth.

“Wanna trade?” you offer.

“Y’don’t have to do that,” he says through his full mouth.

“Nah, come on,” you say. “Besides, green’s my favorite color.” 

Eddie looks over at you, a skeptical look on his face as he chews. But you pick up your sealed cup of Jell-O and toss it over to him. Smiling, he throws the green in return, which you manage to catch.

“Thanks,” he says. You hum in acknowledgment as you tear off the foil lid. 

There’s a beat of silence as you both eat what Hawkins General considers dessert. “I don’t know how you like the green one,” Eddie pipes up. 

You shrug. “Jell-O is Jell-O,” you say nonchalantly, taking a big spoonful to emphasize your point. 

“Nuh uh,” Eddie shakes his head, wincing at the twinge of pain it causes. “Cherry is the superior flavor, and everyone knows it.” He slurps it obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. 

“Geez, how does Chrissy put up with you?” Your tone is light and joking, so you’re taken aback by the darkness that takes over his face. “What?”

“How do you know about Chrissy?” he asks, voice barely audible. 

Your face heats up; you’d forgotten that he didn’t know you’d heard him talking in his sleep. “Um, you said something about saving her when you were having that nightmare,” you admit, softening when you realize how vulnerable he is. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she isn’t—wasn’t,” he amends. “She was the girl who died in my trailer. But I…I didn’t kill her, I swear.” Eddie looks over at you with misty eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but you have to believe me.”

You hold his gaze. “I believe you,” you murmur, quiet but assured. 

The two of you go back to your food, plastic utensils scraping styrofoam bowls, until Eddie speaks up again. “You…you said I talked about Chrissy in my sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“What else did I say?” He looks ambivalent, like he’s unsure if he wants to know what his subconscious mind churned up. 

You think back for a moment. “You asked someone for help, and then you said you didn’t want to, um…you didn’t want to die.” Your eyes flit over to his side of the room, but he’s practically boring a hole in his Jell-O cup with how intently he’s staring at it. 

“Did you tell me to wake up? That I survived?” He finally allows himself to make eye contact with you, a trace of a smile dancing on his lips. 

“Yeah—I can never remember if you’re supposed to let the nightmare end naturally, but you seemed really upset.” You gnaw on your lower lip anxiously. 

Eddie rests his head on the pillow. “God, this is gonna sound corny as hell,” he starts, chuckling to himself, “but when you did that, it was like…I saw brightness, y’know? Not like, Eddie, come into the light,” he drops his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers, making you giggle, “but like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Does that make sense?”

You nod, watching him exhale in relief. 

“Guess you’re my sunshine then, huh?” He gives you a shy smile that you easily return, trying to push down the spark of electricity that seems to flow between you. 

“Hey, how about this?” Eddie asks as he lands on a channel. Your eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in your head when you see a NASCAR race on tiny television.

“Absolutely not,” you answer. 

“Aw, come on,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s an American pastime.”

“It’s one big left turn, is what it is,” you shout. “Toss me the remote?” Eddie chuckles and goes to throw it your way before you wince and add, “Watch the leg!”

He’s careful to avoid the area as he sends it your way, but his eyes drift down the blanket at the mention of your limb. “Is that why you’re in here?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to vacation here,” you reply, maintaining a deadpan expression. 

“I hear the eleventh floor is just wonderful this time of year,” Eddie throws back, feigning a posh British accent. Terribly, you might add. “How bad is it?” he presses, motioning towards your leg. 

“Dunno yet,” you answer honestly. “They took some x-rays and did a bunch of scans; now I’m just waiting for the doctor. They’re probably just overwhelmed.”

Eddie nods. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned earthquake to shake things up.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to react to his pun. Nothing. “Oh, c’mon! That was a good one!”

“You’re a comedic genius, Eddie Munson,” you joke, and he flips you off, nearly snagging the IV tube pinching his skin. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll probably be in a cast for six weeks, maybe have to do some physical therapy. This isn’t my first broken bone.” 

“How do you do that?” Eddie muses. 

“Do what?” 

“Be so…positive,” he explains sheepishly. “I mean, you could be all bitter or anxious, but you’re calm, cool, and collected.” He fiddles with his fingers, frowning as though something is missing. “You really are a ray of sunshine, huh?”

“That’s me.” Truthfully, you’re worried that this could be more than just a run-of-the-mill break, but you don’t let that fear seep through. Instead, you aim the remote at the tiny TV in the corner of the room, settling on a soap opera rerun. It’s not what you’d usually watch, but you’re determined to get your revenge for his NASCAR escapades earlier. 

To your chagrin, Eddie’s enthralled with the on-screen drama. “Oh, shit!” He rubs his hands together. “Is this the one where Shelby sleeps with Theo and his identical twin brother, Mark?” He chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “I got hooked on this show when I was home with the flu last year,” he confesses, though he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. 

“Eddie Munson, secret soap opera aficionado?” You waggle your eyebrows. “Scandalous. What will your fans think?”

“I am what I am, Sunshine.” He sits up a little straighter as a woman with big hair and even bigger breasts shoves ultrasound photos at an impossibly handsome man. “No fuckin’ way!” Eddie gasps. “She’s knocked up!”

“How did you not see that coming? It’s like the oldest trick in the book!” you ask incredulously. “Now she has to figure out which brother is the dad.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes widen in shock. “But they’re identical! How’s she gonna do that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to watch and find out!” you chirp, giggling as he lets out an impatient sigh. 

“Mr. Munson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, pushing an empty wheelchair. “We’re ready to run your tests. Just have to transfer you to the chair.” She pats the back of it, trying to keep some level of professionalism, but you can tell that she’s nervous being around an alleged murderer. She holds out her hand to help Eddie out of bed, and he shoots you a tight grin. 

“I’m goin’ commando under here, Sunshine,” he warns you. “Look away. This show ain’t free.”

You cover your eyes dramatically as he plops into the chair, grunting and groaning the whole way down. “Is it safe?”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures you as the nurse starts to wheel him out of the room. “Hey, let me know who the father is when I get back. My money’s on Theo.”

You narrow your eyes. “How much money?”

“Hmm,” Eddie taps his chin with his forefinger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It won’t be as much as usual, since I already bought a beach house and a Jaguar this year…$3,000 sound good?”

You give him a little salute, turning your attention back to the show. Settling in against the pillows, you get immersed in the show yourself, rooting for some characters, and wanting some to get stabbed in the backs like they deserve. Just as it comes back to Shelby’s storyline, your doctor walks in, a tight smile on his lips. 

“What’s the news, Dr. Sanoj?”

“Well,” he says, looking down at the chart in his hands. “Like we suspected, it’s your femur. It was crushed pretty badly. It’s going to need a few pins in it, which will require some surgery.” 

Letting a deep sigh fall from your lips, you nod your head. “Okay. Was kind of expecting that.” 

“Now, we won’t know for sure until we get in there and take a look at things, but there’s a chance you’ll need a mobility aid to help you get around.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “Like crutches?”

“Crutches are one type of aid, yes. But they range in variety. It’s things like wheelchairs, walkers, canes. But this will be a better discussion for once we see how the surgery turns out,” Dr. Sanoj says.

“Would I need to use one forever?” The sympathetic look that softens your doctor’s face lets you know he heard the trepidation in your voice. “Will I be able to dance again?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Sanoj says, “this discussion is best for once the surgery is done.”

You nod your head, knowing you probably won’t be able to get any further information on the subject out of him. “When will I have the surgery?”

“Scheduling is going to work that out and they should let you know by the end of the day. You can expect to be here the days following the surgery, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in these hospital walls for too much longer. You’ll get there, you’ll see. One day at a time.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

A funk has taken over you once Dr. Sanoj leaves the room. A mobility aid? Could you dance with one of those? Surgery and recovery you planned on, but the goal was always to get you back in the dance studio, and needing a device to help you simply get around was not what you had been expecting. 

Allowing yourself to stew in your own self pity for a few moments, you realize you’ve missed the big reveal on which brother is the father of Shelby’s baby. You’ll have to tell Eddie that. Explain the doctor came in and you were talking to him. But, you think to yourself, Eddie doesn’t need to know just what rough shape your leg is in. He calls you his sunshine, doesn’t he? That would just bring some gray clouds that he did not need in his life. He’s got a lot going on and is going to need to keep his spirits up. That’ll be easier for you to do if you pretend like everything is rainbows and lollipops. 

The door opens and Eddie is wheeled back inside, groaning in pain as he holds a hand over his ribs. 

“Right here with the pain medicine,” Nurse Mandy says, stepping in behind him. 

“Oh, please be mine,” Eddie says, watching the bundle in Mandy’s hands like a hawk. “Sorry roomie, I think I need it more than you do right now.”

“S’all yours,” you tell him.

Mandy sets a bag of IV fluid up as the transporter helps Eddie get back in bed. His face is pale, and you’ve learned that comes when agonizing pain is ripping through you. 

“Okay, Mr. Munson. Should start hitting you at any minute now,” Mandy says. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says, letting his eyes drift closed. He stays that way after both the nurse and the transporter leave the room. You think he’s fallen asleep until he speaks again. “So, which brother was it?”

“Ah, sorry, Eddie,” you say. “Doc came in and I was talking with him, so I think I missed it.”

“Good news?” Eddie’s opened his eyes and turns his head to look at you, genuine concern written across his face. 

For a moment, you contemplate spilling everything: the surgery, the mobility aid, the possibility of never dancing again. But you shove it deep down, determined to keep your cheery disposition that he so desperately needs. “Y-Yeah, everything’s looking ship-shape.” Ship-shape? You’re a terrible liar, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Thas’ good shit.” From the dreamy quality his voice is taking in, you can tell the pain meds are starting to take effect. 

“How’re you feeling?” you ask.

“Sore as hell from how they had to maneuver me for x-rays. But I feel the medicine kicking in.” A smile comes to his face and you can tell the giddiness of the high is hitting him. “Time for me to fly.”

You giggle and turn your attention back to the television. A game show is on now, so you snuggle in to play along. The contestant is getting an obvious puzzle wrong and it makes you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to Eddie about it, but then his soft snores reach your ears. Turning your head to look at him, you notice how peaceful he looks. All you can do is pray he stays that way and isn’t plagued by any other nightmares. 

Sunshine, he calls you. It’s the nicest nickname you’ve ever been given. You’re hoping you can keep that bright and optimistic attitude up enough to help him out when the clouds come rolling in. It’s not a one-way street, though. Eddie is going to be your light, your breath of fresh air, your optimism. You just don’t know it yet.

--

[liv2post]

Serenading Him

CHAPTER 6: Respite (FINAL CHAPTER)

Prev Chapter

AO3

Severus groaned softly as a gradual brightness roused him from what felt like to be a deep slumber. The fleshy color of his eyelids could no longer replicate the facade of darkness as he slowly fluttered his eyes open. He was first met with a plain white ceiling with a slight popcorn texture to it and something soft beneath his head and cradling his body. The second thing he registered was a fuzzy feeling in his head and throat.

The snake. Voldemort. He—

His hand shot to his throat as he attempted to swiftly sit up, but immediately regretted it, a heavy dizziness forcing him back down against his propped-up pillow with a groan.

“You’re awake,” a voice said softly.

His eyes flicked over to the side and landed upon you. You were slouched in a chair, head propped up by your fist with a tired expression on your face and watching his form with a gentle smile. He was alive.

“…Y/N?” He rasped out.

“Hi, Severus.”

He blinked dumbly at you before slowly scooching himself up more in a sitting position, glancing about the room. He had an IV in his arm and some magically powered machines keeping track of his vitals. He was in a hospital room, St. Mungos most likely. You were the only other person in the room except for the people who passed by on the other side of the blurred privacy glass.

“I died,” he stated, still thinking this may not be real.

You nodded lightly. “You did, but I brought you back. A little after you died, Voldemort called a one-hour armistice. I flew down from the tower to see how everyone was fairing and I overheard Harry and Hermione talking about you, how your “body” was in the boathouse. When I found you, I apparated us to the Potions classroom, healed your wounds, and got your heart beating again, and uh,” you blushed, “more or less stowed you away in my room until after the battle was over.”

His eyes widened. “Did we…?

You smiled fervently. “Yes, we won. And Harry is officially two for two in surviving the Killing Curse.” Your smile dropped a little. “We lost some people though, but the teachers are alright. Harry got you pardoned by the Ministry. Only a select few people saw whatever memories you shared with Potter to have your name cleared, but Kingsley is Minister now, so you have him on your side in the future. Unfortunately, you’ve become Rita Skeeter’s next target.”

Any words after the word “curse” fell deaf on his ears. Severus didn’t care. It was over. All of it. A slow exhale left him and you swear he probably got five years younger from the stress that seemed to leave his face.

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“You’ve been in a medically induced coma for almost a week now. The poison that circulated in you had done a bit of damage to your insides, so they needed to treat that. You hardly got any new scars though…except for the neck. The doctors said whatever special poison the snake possessed made it impossible to treat the scarring, but it might lessen naturally over time.”

The pads of his fingers lightly touched the raised skin on his throat. He summoned a hand mirror and grimaced at the sight of his neck. He could make out very clearly where his throat had been cut as well as the angry tearing and puncturing caused by Nagini. There was a yellow glow around his skin though, which meant you had applied that spell of yours. 

“I can take it off if you’d like.”

He shook his head with a sigh. “No, leave it,” he uttered and with some effort shifted over in his bed. “Come here.”

You pushed off the chair and quietly moved to the bed as Severus shifted into a sitting position to push off the edge, but noticed him wince a little as a pain radiated from his stomach to his chest.

“Don’t push yourself, Se—”

“Shut up,” Severus adjured, standing now as he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his nose in your hair, taking in your form as you sunk into his hold. Your hands slowly ran up and down his back, your touch soothing him through the cotton hospital clothes more than any potion or spell could. The two of you just stood there holding one another, your breathing falling in sync. You were both here. Alive. Despite having known him for multiple years, the days you spent together over the break were vital. It established an indescribable level of trust and had the war taken him, it would have eaten you up inside knowing he had so much on his shoulders.

He eventually drew you back towards the bed, a quiet gesture to keep you close to him. As you sat up against the metal frame, Severus wrapped an arm around your waist and laid against your side while you slinked an arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you for all you’ve done. I’m glad you are alive,” Severus murmured.

“I should be the one saying that to you . Your magic worked brilliantly. I think it got about fifteen Death Eaters in total before Harry dueled Voldemort.”

“Good…” he hummed, his eyes tiredly scanning his surroundings once more until they landed on two fuzzy silhouettes behind the glass exterior of his room. “Are those…guards by the door?”

“For your own safety, yes. Quite a few Death Eaters fled when they realized Voldemort couldn’t kill Harry a second time.” You grabbed a newspaper off the bedside table. “You being pardoned was the headliner two days ago. Since you weren’t on the toll list of those who died in the war, they know you’re alive. Also, you got a letter from Draco’s mother.” You opened the newspaper and out fell a tan envelope with a red wax seal with the name “Narcissa” scrawled on the front.

While he fumbled open the letter, you read the copy of the Prophet to give him some privacy. Based on the despondent sound he made, he was not pleased by the contents inside.

“My home was destroyed,” he muttered aloud.

You made a pained noise of sympathy and gently rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Severus.” 

“Some books were saved, but there was a Dark Mark. Aurors convinced the locals it was a gas leak, but…” he trailed off. Truthfully he knew this would happen should he have escaped the war alive. He’d be hunted relentlessly by anyone who became aware of his true loyalty and his betrayal of Voldemort which was now, thanks to the Ministry, the entire Wizarding World.

“Y’know…I still plan on relocating, but not to America anymore. ‘M gonna use some of the money my parents left me to get a place out in the countryside. Probably Yorkshire. Or maybe Ireland.” You tilted your head toward him. “You could come with me if you’d like.”

He was silent, neither verbally accepting or declining your offer, but the way his weight pressed slightly further into you and his hand squeezed your waist was somewhat of an indicator of his feelings on the matter.

Your fingers began playing with the length of his hair. “You’ve had some visitors, too. Harry and his friends came on your second day here, as did Hargid… Draco tried , but I wouldn’t let him in because he was drunk and waving his wand around like a knife. Professor McGonagall came yesterday to see if you had woken up. She is… adamant in having a conversation with you,” you chuckled.

“I know what she’s going to say. I don’t wish to speak to her yet,” Severus grumbled.

“Everything in its own time,” you declared smiling and pecked his head, bringing a light smirk to his face. “More importantly, you are in dire need of a trim.”

[marivoid]

Entry 31

Day 223

This is him. One of the only people that can help me find The Doctor. The Heavy-Body Builder.

One problem: The man is the definition of "Looks scary, is a wet cat of a man." He definitely TRIED to be intimidating, but he failed pretty miserably at it when I met him after being unconscious for 10 days.

(Yes I did a double take. I still can't believe I was out for THAT long)

Picture this: Me walking towards a towering city of collapsing buildings with dust filled air. Eyes focused on the small blinks of light that just barely escape the smog- I'm thinking that I've finally made it! Comparator City!

And then I get absolutely BODIED by a huge hunk of metal. I wish I were kidding. My poor spine! My arm! It got freaking CRUSHED! I was sent flying a decent few feet and ended up crashing into an old light pole (Again. OW.) All that I can remember happening next is that same hunk of metal approaching me and some guy jumping out of it. But then... Well. I was out like a light.

Managed to wake up (after what felt like) a few hours later and oh GOODNESS did it hurt. My back, my right side, my stump of an arm- It all hurt! But there was somebody in the very dim room with me. The same person that crawled out of that hunk of metal.

"Thank goodness you're awake!" He had said when I first gained consciousness. "I was worried that you wouldn't stabilize! You've been unconscious for over a week!"

"I've been WHAT?!" And of course, when I sat up I saw the damage the man had done to me. Machines were strapped all over my body, an IV drip sticking out of my arm (Where he found a clean needle I will not ask.) a whole heart rate monitor- He was stacked! But from the state of everything, he was telling me the truth. "You knocked me unconscious for a week?!"

"Well it's r-really been ten days-"

"TEN DAYS?!"

"Yes- Yes I know it sounds absolutely horrible but! But! You're recovering at an accelerated rate! You should be good to go in a few days? Maybe three? The experimental drug is working great for you!" He had been blabbering and talking so fast that I nearly missed that detail.

"Experimental- I'm sorry, EXPERIMENTAL DRUG?" Of course I had been outraged back then. (Even looking back now I'm still a bit ticked off at being used as a guinea pig for a drug that could have killed me, but hey! I'm alive now!) "You used an EXPERIMENTAL DRUG to heal me."

"Yes! And it worked!" He stepped away from me to grab my prosthetic arm. "And! And I managed to upgrade your arm! It got destroyed- Again I'm so sorry about that- but hey! At least now your map and compass aren't an extra item to carry around!"

"So you fixed the nerve sensors? The solar panels?"

"Uh- No. Unfortunately I don't have access to the receptors or the proper solar panels you need." He had explained while reattaching my arm. "But! But, it works a lot like mine!" He flashed his brass arm, glowing a soft red. "It's powered by redstone! Should last you a solid month before you need to recharge it!"

And there was the main problem. "How in the ever loving hell do I get this 'redstone' stuff? Heck, where could I even get it?"

"Easy! Me!" He flicked on a lever on the backside of my arm and it felt... Nice at the time. Sturdy. Like it wouldn't die on me when I needed it most. "I use the Parrot System, so as long as you can get mail through the Parrots you should be good!"

"... The who?"

You wouldn't believe me if I told you this man began to glow with embarrassment. I mean he LITERALLY glowed. Pointy ears and face turning a bright red that GLOWED.

"Right, uh- The parrots! They're one of the middle tier delivery birds! I'm friends with their Flight Master! I... I take it you have no idea who I'm talking about."

"Not a damn clue."

"First of all, watch your tongue. Second! That's okay! I should have enough in store that should last you about three months- But you really need to find the Flight Masters. They'll help you in the long run."

When he stopped his rambling I focused on the newly upgraded arm. It is always a weird sensation, flexing a limb that's not really there. But the small tug of metal fingers and steel plates listening to one's mind is even weirder. And I mean REALLY weird.

"Who... Exactly are these Flight Masters?" I managed to ask him after a few moments of silence. "How do you... Get under their wing?"

"That-" The man paused and the red glow only grew. "That was a horrible pun-" He has a really nice laugh. Small but breathless.

"But it works! I mean, they have to be Birds of a Feather to Fly together-"

"Stop! Stop, no!"

"When am I going to stop, huh?! Never!" And then I started to laugh. I think it was just my mind needing something to focus on other than the glaring new arm attached to my body.

"Goodness you may be worse than Gri-" His laughter died when he barely mentioned a name. I couldn't get all of it, but it must be the Flight Master.

"Worse than...?"

"Y-You will find out eventually." His tune changed from that point going forward.

He eventually gave me his name (Mumbo) and gave me a quick summary of the three Flight Masters.

The Canary: Flight Master of the small, yellow birds that linger around Comparator City. Used by the residents of said city. Apparently the easiest one to befriend.

The Parrot: Flight Master of the robotic parrots that fly around all over the Crashlands. They're more tricky to get a hold of as they have a whole database on who's a customer and who's not. Need to find the Parrot Flight Master in order to get on the list.

The Crow: Flight Master of the Murders. Every crow I have seen so far apparently belongs to Him. And apparently the only way to find him is a mystery to even Mumbo. All I can do is hope for the best with that one.

That was all the information he was willing to tell me. Apparently I struck a nerve by getting him to almost spill the name of the Parrot Flight Master. I'm still resting in this small room, letting myself recover from being plowed by that big old machine.

I even tried asking him what that THING was that he hit me with! But he just shook his head and said it was a prototype I shouldn't bother myself with.

Things are just getting really overwhelming now. So much information to process. How do I find the Canary? Or hell, the Parrot? I'm not even going to TOUCH the subject of the Crow. What about the Demon? Is he still around? Is he in Comparator City? Will I run out of the weird redstone dust before I find the Parrot?

So many questions.

Too little answers.

I think I'm just going to shut off my mind for a little bit.

MLW

G.U.I.D.E. 67

[fairyniceyeah]

💎 I love my team, I love my crew (Part 5/7)

Title from Super (SEVENTEEN)

ILMTILMC Part I ILMTILMC Part II ILMTILMC Part III ILMTILMC Part IV

Summary: Jun receives bad news.

CW: emeto, high fevers, IVs

Sickies: Joshua + Seungkwan + S.Coups/Seungcheol + Vernon + Woozi/Jihoon + Minghao Caretakers: Jun + DK/Seokmin + Dino/Chan + Wonwoo + Mingyu + Hoshi/Soonyoung + Jeonghan

💎😸

“You probably know better than me who we should check on first, Jun-ssi”, the medic said kindly. 

Jun sighed and mentally went through the list of members. 

Seungcheol? Vomiting and fever, Vernon and Dino were with him

Jeonghan? Fine

Joshua? Bad headache and vomiting, under Seokmin’s care

Jun? Fine

Hoshi? Fine

Wonwoo? Fine

Woozi? Vomiting but he seemed better and had Jeonghan and Hoshi with him

Minghao? Sick from both ends but finally asleep and on medication

Mingyu? Fine

Seokmin? Fine

Seungkwan? Vomiting but was with Vernon and Dino

Vernon? Fine, probably grossed out, but fine

Dino? Fine

At least there were still more members who were fine than those who were not.

“Let’s go see how Joshua-hyung is doing”, he decided. He hadn’t seen Joshua himself yet and he knew that Seokmin would probably start bouncing off the wall if he was alone for much longer. Jun could sympathize. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to just stay with a sick member alone cooped up in a cabin all day - and then be a social butterfly like Seokmin.

Knowing that even knocking on the door could be hurtful to Joshua’s ears, Jun just carefully pushed down the doorknob and peeked inside. It was completely dark inside, not an ounce of light spilling inside except for from the opened door. 

Once his eyes were adjusted, Jun was able to spot Joshua asleep on one bed. He seemed peaceful enough. Yet his breath caught in his throat when he spotted Seokmin laying on the other bed, completely undisturbed by the new arrivals. Was he sick too?

Jun rushed over, trying to keep quiet as much as possible but also be there as fast as he could. Seokmin didn’t stir. Placing his hand on Seokmin’s brow he found it blessedly cool. At least he wasn’t running a fever.

At the touch, Seokmin did wake up, starting to squirm under Jun’s hand and sighing. His eyes blinked open. “Junnie-hyung? What are you doing?”

“Are you sick too? We found you here asleep…”

Seokmin laughed softly, a huff of warm air, and sat up. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and said: “Nah, I’m good. I must have fallen asleep. It’s pretty boring in here. Shua-hyung’s been asleep for a few hours.”

Relief flooded Jun’s whole being. One worry less.

“Oh, good. That’s actually really good.”

“Hm, yeah.” Seokmin didn’t sound that convinced. “I think hyung’s body is so exhausted and in pain that he can’t do anything but sleep. He’s either vomiting from the headache or in so much pain he’s crying when awake.”

Damn. Jun had just been hopeful.

“Can you give him an IV?”, Jun asked, turning to the medic. “If it’s like his migraines he won’t be able to keep anything inside.”

The medic nodded but said: “I need light for that…”

Yeah, that would be a catastrophe. If it was only half as bad as a migraine then Joshua would not be able to tolerate any light. But Jun couldn’t also not just decide for him if he wanted to abstain from medication for momentary awful discomfort.

“Let me wake him”, Jun suggested, “we’ll ask him if he wants the IV and then we’ll see how to make it as comfortable for him as possible.”

The other two nodded in agreement and Jun approached the sleeping member carefully. He gently shook Joshua’s shoulder and whispered his name. After a few seconds he was rewarded with a groan.

“Shua-hyung, you awake?”, Jun whispered. 

The older member gave another groan, then his breathing took on an irregular pattern and hitched. Uh oh. Jun held his breath in turn, hoping that nothing would come of it but then Joshua gagged and both Jun and the medic hurried to turn Joshua on his side, so he wouldn't choke. Just in time. 

Vomit spilled from Joshua’s lips onto the bed, soaking the sheets instantly. At least he wasn’t choking. But the pained whimpers Joshua gave with every retch were heartwrenching. There really wasn’t any way to get him to lean over the side of the bed to get sick in the trash can, considering there was vomit all around him and he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up over it. 

So Jun just held his hand, letting Joshua squeezed it to combat the pain. 

Finally it seemed to be over and Jun was barely able to stop Joshua from rolling over into the puddle as his body gave into weakness. 

“Shua-hyung?”, Jun whispered, “can you hear me?”

“Junnie?”, Joshua rasped. “What? My head … it hurts so bad.”

“I know, hyungie. Do you think we can lift you onto the clean bed and then the medic can give you an IV to stop the pain? Is that okay?”

Joshua didn’t even hesitate to agree. “Please.”

“If you lift him, I can look in the meantime where I put my sleeping mask”, Seokmin whispered. 

“Good idea.” It would likely be the only way they could make this comfortable for the vocalist.

Gently maneuvering around the vomit, Jun and the medic lifted Joshua to the clean bed on which Seokmin had slept previously. The movement seemed to hurt Joshua and make him more queasy again but he didn’t throw up again. 

Once they had settled the vocalist under the covers, Jun sat down by his head, gently massaging his forehead. It seemed to help at least a little bit by the way Joshua relaxed. 

“Hyung?”, Jun whispered as Seokmin approached, holding the promised sleeping mask, “I know that sounds like an awful idea right now but to put in the IV the medic needs to see. We need to turn on the lights for the moment but Seokminnie has got a sleeping mask for you so you can cover your eyes, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Careful to not hurt him further, Jun placed his hands under Joshua’s neck - the older whined at the loss of the massage - and lifted his head so it was resting against his forearms. It gave Seokmin enough room to place the mask over Joshua’s eyes. 

Then the medic turned on the light. Joshua didn’t seem to notice. Good. Jun continued the forehead massage as much as he could without moving the mask and watched as the medic started preparing Joshua’s arm to put the needle in. 

Unable to see, Joshua flinched when the cool alcoholic spray came in contact with his skin. 

“Sorry”, the medic whispered, “do you want me to tell you before I poke you or not?”

“Tell me.” Joshua’s voice was shaking. It was clear he was afraid. He had never been the biggest fan of needles and would prefer oral medication over the intravenous ones and the fact that he had so easily agreed was a big tell on how he was feeling. 

“Okay, just breathe normally”, the medic advised, “I’ll count to three. On three I want you to breathe in. I’ll be careful, okay?”

Joshua hummed his agreement. But as the medic started counting he suddenly whispered: “Stop. Stop. I…”

He coughed and for a moment Jun was scared he would throw up again. Joshua didn’t but his voice was tiny when he asked: “Can somebody hold my hand?”

He was likely scared of accidentally moving when poked. It had happened before - was the reason actually why he didn’t like needles.

“Of course I will, hyung”, Seokmin said softly before Jun could answer and managed to worm himself close enough to gently hold Joshua’s hand in both of his, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of Joshua’s hand. 

“‘Thanks, Seokminnie. I think I can do it now.”

The medic started counting again and as instructed Joshua breathed in on the count, just as the doctor slid the needle in. There was no flinch, no movement. It seemed like Joshua hadn’t even noticed it happening.

“You did well, Joshua-ssi”, the medic praised and, proud of his hyung, Jun leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You did it, hyung.”

“It’s in?”, Joshua rasped. 

“Yeah, it’s in. I’ll connect the fluids, the painkillers and the antiemetic now. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

It seemed like Joshua didn’t need to be told twice. His breathing evened out nearly immediately. 

“Will you stay here with him?” Jun now turned his attention to Seokmin. He would love to send the younger just back to sleep - it probably was good to have at least one well rested member considering that the night would likely be long for him and Jeonghan at least - but there was still vomit on the bed sheets. “I’ll ask somebody to help you with … that.”

Seokmin grimaced. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

In the hallway they passed Wonwoo, Mingyu and a noona, all of them carrying thermos cans. With a weak smile the three members high-fived each other, some of the last ones standing.

“Maybe some of them can keep some nutrition down”, Mingyu explained the containers, Wonwoo nodding along. “What are the room contributions? How are they?”

It was good thinking. Jun hoped that the medication would soon help and the sick ones might be able to keep some nutrition down - especially Minghao. 

The rapper-duo seemed happy enough, mostly burden-free if not necessarily worry-free. Jun hated to burst their bubble. “Hoshi and Jeonghan-hyung are with Jihoon and Minghao. Minghao got an IV and Jihoon was confident he’ll be able to keep down some meds. Dino and Vernon are with Seungcheol and Seungkwan. I’m not quite up to date, but both have fevers and keep vomiting. Seokmin is with Joshua-hyung. Actually, can one of you go to him? Shua threw up on his bedding and someone needs to stay with him while somebody goes to the laundry room.”

Wonwoo sighed, handed his container to Mingyu and saluted half-heartedly. “Can’t slack off my room-cleaning services now.”

Mingyu laughed a bit and Jun cracked a grin too. Maybe everything would work out in the end.

Yeah, he was wrong.

Neither Seungcheol nor Seungkwan were still asleep when Jun and the medic entered the bedroom. In fact the room was in chaos. Jun knew they shouldn’t have let the maknaes alone - it wasn’t that he trusted them, he would with his life, but both of them were not very used to dealing with sick members. 

Seungcheol was leaning over the side of the bed, throwing up into a trash can but not managing to hit it every time he retched. The leader seemed weak, feverish and barely awake. Dino was struggling to hold him up. It must have happened very suddenly from how it looked, like Dino had managed to hold Seungcheol up just before he would have toppled off the bed. Now he was unable to adjust his hold on the general leader without risking dropping him. Abandoned ice packs were melting into the sheets.

From the bathroom there came the sound of gagging as well and Vernon and Seungkwan were missing. 

The first thing Jun did was rush over to help Dino hold the leader in a position where he didn’t threaten to fall off the bed. Just from touching Seungcheol’s t-shirt Jun could tell that their mat-hyung was boiling hot. Every wave of vomit pouring out of him seemed to seep his strength and once he was done, he just slumped onto the bed, eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. 

“Cheollie?”, Jun asked timidly, for the first time today, scared. He could handle crying and vomiting hyungs and dongsaengs. Mat-hyungs passing out from high fevers were not in the cards. 

Seungcheol just trembled, his breath coming in heavy puffs. It was clear he wasn’t really in the room.

“How high is his fever?” Jun turned to the maknae to ask the dreaded question. Dino looked like he was about to break into tears and Jun pulled him into his arms, shushing him as the tears actually fell.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s gonna be okay”, he whispered, patting Dino’s waist. “Did you manage to take his temperature?”

But that only caused Dino to cry harder. 

“I … I tried to”, the maknae sobbed out, at times interrupted by hiccoughs, “but that must have triggered him and he started vomiting. Vernon had said earlier he didn’t feel good either but he … he said he didn’t want to make your jobs even harder though I knew he was terrified. When Cheollie-hyung started vomiting, he ran to the bathroom and started throwing up too. Kwan-ah went to check on him despite being sick himself.” 

No wonder Dino was this distraught. Jun was getting overwhelmed from just listening. So he just rocked the crying dancer from side to side, hoping it would calm him down. 

“Jun-ssi?”, the medic called out and reluctantly the older dancer let go of his dongsaeng to turn around. Dino let him but clutched his hand instead, wiping his eyes with the other wrist. 

The medic was lowering a shaking Seungkwan to the ground, who immediately flung himself at Vernon who was pale and even from afar the terror in his eyes was visible. They both must have gotten sick. Jun stepped closer, hoping that Seungcheol could hold out a minute or two without attention. 

“I’m sorry, Kwan-ah”, Vernon whispered, holding onto his best friend tightly, “I didn’t mean to set you off too.”

“It’s not your fault, Nonie”, Seungkwan mumbled back, hanging his head in exhaustion. “I was already feeling pretty sick again. I love cuddling but Cheollie-hyung is so overwhelmingly warm…” He trailed off.

“We’ll get some fever reducers into him”, the medic said, “don’t worry.”

He rummaged in his bag for something, then suddenly he frowned. He took out one of the fluid bags and turned it around. Put it back and did the same with the next one. Once he had checked them all over, he looked up at Jun with an unreadable expression. 

“Jun-ssi, can I talk with you outside?”

This could not be good. 

“Do you have a thermometer that is not oral?”, Jun asked, hoping that the medic understood his intention. To emphasize his point he slightly nodded his head towards the still sniffing and hiccoughing Dino. 

“Yeah”, the medic said and handed a thermometer gun to Jun. 

“Take their temperatures, okay, Dino-yah?”, Jun instructed, hoping it would sufficiently distract the three maknaes from the fact that two of them were sick and their leader was basically passed out on his bed.

Dino nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Jun followed the medic into the hallway. 

“What’s wrong?” His heart was beating in his chest and his pulse was racing. He wasn’t sure how to deal with anything else bad happening.

“I don’t know how to say this”, the medic stuttered out, now looking more and more freaked out.

“What is it?” Jun knew his voice sounded sharp but he feared he would combust if he didn’t soon find out what was going on.

“I took the standard medicine bag my company provided with me. Somebody must have made a mistake when checking them. Uhm, well, most of the medications are expired.” Jun’s expression must have been one of absolute horror, if it was anything close to how he felt internally and the medic reacted to. “I checked the dates on the medication I administered to Minghao-ssi and Joshua-ssi. But I just noticed that I only have one bag of antiemetics left, no saline solution and no fever reducers. I’m so sorry, Jun-ssi.”

For a moment Jun didn’t know what to say. He wanted to yell at the medic. He wanted to sue his company. But it didn’t help now. Not with so many members fighting for their health and some that would surely get sick in the future too.

“Can’t they be used even after expired?”, Jun asked desperately, feeling close to tears.

“No. They might be only less effective but they could also have bacterial growths or might have changed their chemical composition”, the medic replied, sounding heartfeltly sorry.

Jun nodded slightly, trembling all over. “Okay. Thank you anyways.”

“I’m really sorry, Jun-ssi. Let me know what I can do for you?”

“I am too. For now … why don’t you go check on the sick staff? If the medications are limited and somebody is in desperate need…”

“Okay. Think about who might need the medication the most and let me know.”

Jun watched the medic scurry away. An angry, frustrated tear rolled down his face but he wiped it away. He needed to pull himself together. He didn’t want to make the decision on his own. As soon as he could, he would speak with Jeonghan.

But first he had to check on Vernon, Dino, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

💎🐢

Vernon wanted to cry. Actually he wasn’t sure if his face was covered in sweat or tears. 

He hated being sick and vomiting scared him. He had only barely managed to push through for Seungkwan’s sake but now that he was reduced to a queasy, slightly feverish puddle of human on the tiny bathroom floor he regretted everything. 

He hadn’t been able to hide how he felt from Chan, constantly stifling nauseous burps into his fist until the younger had asked him how he felt. Vernon hadn’t been strong enough to keep lying but when Dino had wanted to go get a hyung Vernon didn’t want to burden them even more. There was too much going on.

He was just glad that unlike Minghao he was just nauseous though he might have even preferred the other direction. 

Now that he had thrown up - feeling sick and seeing the leader throw up had been too much and he had thrown up into his mouth before he had even made it to the toilet - he felt wretched. Back when he was just queasy he had told himself that it was maybe just sympathy and his fear but now he couldn’t deny he was sick and he would vomit again. 

So, no matter how embarrassing it was to fall apart in front of three of his members and a staff member, he couldn’t help but cry into Seungkwan’s chest. His best friend held him close, not caring about the fact that they were on the bathroom floor and that Vernon could technically throw up all over him. He didn’t have the best record with making it to the bathroom. 

Even apologizing for setting Seungkwan off was met with gentle care. Vernon didn’t know what he would do without the vocalist. He was vaguely aware of Jun leaving with the medic but he was more concerned with trying to stop crying and trying not to be sick again.

“Nonie”, Seungkwan whispered, pressing his lips to Vernon’s forehead. “Breathe. You’re going to be okay. We’ll take care of you.”

Vernon sniffed and nodded, trying to regulate his breathing.

“Vernonie-hyung? Can you look at me?”, Chan asked and Vernon did as asked. The maknae quickly took his temperature, reading out the reading. The numbers didn’t really make sense to him, no matter that he had grown up in Korea, his family had still often used the Fahrenheit system for body temperatures so he had no idea what that meant.

Seungkwan translated: “Medium fever.”

“Okay.”

Once it was revealed that Seungkwan too had a medium fever, Chan went to check on their mat-hyung. Vernon didn’t like to admit it but he was terrified. Seeing the older member this sick made Vernon want to cry. Maybe it was the fever making him emotional. He didn’t know.

What he did know was that his stomach was suddenly not feeling good again.

“Kwan”, he gasped out and before he knew it, his head was in the toilet again with the first wave of throw up painting the water murky. He gagged again and brown sprayed against the porcelain. Tears dripped down his face and mixed with the sick below him. 

“It’s okay, let it out, I got you”, Seungkwan mumbled, though his voice sounded a bit stifled. 

Suddenly Jun was there too. “Oh, babies. Kwan-ah, go lie back down if you can, it’s okay, I got Nonie.”

Seungkwan let go of Vernon, causing the younger to sob and consequently throw up again. Jun patiently sat with him, not leaving in all the time Vernon gagged and cried hovering over the toilet.

Finally his stomach seemed to grant him mercy and he bonelessly fell back into his hyung who kissed the top of his head, helped him wash out his mouth, didn’t care that Vernon used him as a human tissue and even half-carried him back to bed. As soon as he was in reach, Vernon fell down onto it, burying his burning face in Seungkwan’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I couldn't be there for you, love”, Seungkwan mumbled, his voice shaking.

“Don’t … it’s okay. Junnie-hyung took good care of me.”

A knock came on the door and Jun conversed with whoever had entered. Vernon didn’t have the strength to turn and look or try to figure it out with just hearing.

“Kwan-ah? Nonie?”, Jun suddenly said, “Mingyu made some juk. Let’s try to eat a bit, okay?”

Vernon wanted anything but eat and Seungkwan seemed to feel the same way. Despite everything they soon were upright, with Dino helping Seungkwan eat while Vernon was leaning back against Mingyu’s broad chest, getting fed by the older rapper. 

Across from them Jun tried to feed the feverish and sick leader but it was a slow process. It seemed like Seungcheol’s brain wasn’t even online enough to chew and swallow. He coughed a few times as something got stuck in his throat and Vernon pressed himself back against Mingyu, trying to block out the disgusting sounds.

Neither of them managed much, but apparently enough for Jun to decide they should try some medication. Mingyu and Dino managed to get the two 98-liners to take them, both of them clutching each other's hand. Vernon was not very confident he’d be able to keep it down but the cool motion sickness patch, as well as a cool cloth on his brow lulled him back to sleep before the nausea could boil over.

💎🍚

Jihoon cursed his past confidence. Shouldn’t he have learned earlier that he couldn’t keep anything down? The antiemetic staying down must have been a fluke. He had been tricked into false beliefs by his empty stomach and now he was paying the price. 

He woke up only shortly after he had fallen asleep again. His stomach was cramping even worse than earlier and nausea filled every part of his being. Still, he pretended to be asleep, taking deep, measured breaths. 

It only helped enough that he didn’t start gagging but just barely. He hoped if he just laid like this, he would just fall back asleep. Somewhere close by he could hear Jeonghan and Soonyoung talking to each other, a comforting buzz in his ears. A hand was running through his hair. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Another sharp cramp tore through his stomach and this time he couldn’t stop the pained cry from escaping his lips. He clamped his mouth shut just in time to stop a new gag.

“Jihoonie?”, Jeonghan’s voice asked and the hand stopped. 

Caught, Jihoon opened his eyes to find both older members leaning over him, both with a worried expression on their face. Jihoon tried to smile but the corners of his mouth would barely lift.

“Baby?”, Soonyoung asked when Jihoon didn’t answer. “Do you feel sick again?”

Jihoon nodded. There was no use in denying it.

Jeonghan cooed. Normally Jihoon would have hit him for that. Now even the thought of moving was nauseating. The worst was the pain, however.

“It hurts”, he whispered, curling into himself and pressing his hands against the churning organ.

The older vocalist sat down next to Jihoon on the bed and rubbed his back in comforting circles. “Try to breathe normally, okay? Can we try to stretch out your legs? I think that might help with the pain as well.”

Jihoon trusted his hyung enough that he let Jeonghan and Soonyoung carefully move him, despite the fact that his brain screamed at him that moving was bad and the nausea that was threatening to make him vomit again. And moving hurt, a lot. No matter how careful they were.

Tears were running down Jihoon’s cheeks when he was finally straight on his back, legs stretched out. Surprisingly, it did feel better. It still hurt, of course, but it wasn’t as debilitating as before. Soonyoung was rubbing his calf through the blanket, which was calming him down too.

“You probably shouldn’t have taken the medication on an empty and already very upset stomach”, Jeonghan pointed out, “I’m sorry, I should have paid more attention.”

“It’s okay, hyung”, Jihoon whispered. 

The door opened to admit Mingyu carrying two thermos bottles as far as Jihoon could see. 

“Haneul-noona and I made some juk”, Mingyu announced cheerfully, “do we have some patients who want a taste?” 

Oh hell no.

“You’re just in time, Mingyu-yah. We just decided that Jihoonie needs to eat.” Soonyoung sounded much more happy than he had any right to be.

“We did?”, Jihoon asked, feeling his stomach churn at the thought. No, eating was not his plan. 

“You should try to eat, baby”, Jeonghan said with a nod and a gentle smile, “the pain and the nausea might just come from an empty stomach and taking meds on said empty stomach.”

As much as Jihoon wanted to do anything but eat, he had to admit they had a point. And Mingyu looked awfully proud of himself. 

“Okay”, he agreed quietly.

“What about Minghao?”, Soonyoung asked. “Should we wake him?”

Jeonghan nodded. “He needs fluids too. I’ll wake him, okay? You take Jihoonie?”

It seemed like one second he was laying down, the next Jihoon was leaning against Soonyoung’s side with the older holding a bowl and a spoon in his hands. Across from them Jeonghan was softly whispering to a teary Minghao, who looked unhappy to be awake and uncomfortable with the IV.

“Eat, baby”, Soonyoung encouraged and lifted the spoon to Jihoon’s lips. Against his better judgment Jihoon took it in his mouth. The rice porridge with an aftertaste of chicken was tasty, yes, but Jihoon had to fight against the urge to spit it out again. Soonyoung seemed happy he was eating and Mingyu was proud and maybe Jeonghan was right that it would help.

Despite every bite and swallow being an inner struggle, Jihoon managed to finish the food in record time. Tasting it made it worse, so he tried to get it down quickly. 

“Thanks, hyung”, Minghao said, smiling softly at Mingyu, “it’s really good.”

The young dancer seemed to have overcome his struggles with being awake and now even seemed a bit hungry. Maybe Jihoon should have just swallowed his pride and just let the medic place the IV. It might have made him feel more comfortable, he could have been happily eating too.

“Yeah, thanks”, Jihoon pressed out, feeling sweat break out on his brow. His stomach was somersaulting and aching so badly. He felt overly full even if he portion had been pretty small and before he had been empty. He dropped his head on Soonyoungi’s shoulder and took deep breaths.

Mingyu and the noona quickly said their goodbyes, hoping to distribute more food to the other sick members. 

That was when Jun knocked on the door, nervously entering. 

“Is everything in here okay?”, he asked, stumbling a bit over his words. 

“Yeah, we’re good”, Jeonghan confirmed. Oh, how Jihoon wished those words were true. But Jeonghan was already helping a sleepy Minghao back under his covers and now mustered Jun in concern. The least Jihoon could do was try to wait to puke again until Jun was calmed down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Hyung, can we speak outside?”

“Go, hyung”, Hoshi said when Jeonghan seemed to hesitate. 

“Come on, Junnie.”

The two disappeared out the door and left Jihoon and Soonyoung alone, considering that Minghao was already snoring a bit.

“You wanna lie back down too?”, the dancer leader asked.

“I think I want to stay upright a bit.”

There was no way Jihoon could lie down without puking all over the two of them.

ILMTILMC Part VI

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[girlwiththeobsessions]

love sick c.f.

this book has also been published on wattpad. same username as the one on here. i update faster on there.

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

iv. deb shopping

part 1 part 2 part 3

i had no clue what was going on with conrad, why he was acting so different this summer, making me wonder what happened to the same conrad who would go on and on about infinity.

i slept in that morning, because of the fact that i stayed up way too late at that bonfire, but i eventually got up since i had work today.

when i went downstairs, dressed in a white lifeguard tank top, and red shorts, laurel, steven, and jeremiah were downstairs.

conrad was on the couch, and jere was making a 'hangover smoothie' for him, while steven was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

"do we really have to physically sit for our portraits?" jeremiah complained to laurel. "can't she just- look at a picture on her phone or something?"

"right?" i agreed with him.

jeremiah backed up a little from steven, having enough of him hovering over him. "okay, get out." jeremiah pointed at the door.

steven laughed. "what. why?"

"she needs to see you in the flash to capture you essence." laurel said, fixated on her laptop. "while you're still young, and full of hope."

"so poetic, mom." i joked, while steven and jeremiah laughed.

"her words." laurel rolled her eyes at us with a smile.

"well, conrad does not have hope, actually. he's hopeless." jeremiah insulted, causing me to laugh a little. "but! my hangover smoothie, it cures all."

"can you please just hurry up." conrad rushed him from the couch.

"just go back to bed. alright?" jeremiah shot back to him, and steven started looking over his shoulder again.

jeremiah put a hand on steven's chest. "alright, seriously, steven. get out. this is a delicate science."

"she hasn't painted you since you were little. i think it would be nice to have these portraits for when you're older." laurel added in.

"oh, no." steven joked. "when i'm older, they'd have like, holograms i can watch of myself, you know."

"or, this is why we have technology." i say. "where we have pictures? on our phones?"

jeremiah started the blender, causing conrad to jolt awake.

"just sit for your portraits." laurel told me and steven. "you don't see conrad complaining.

"he'll complain when he's actually conscious." i shot back at laurel.

jeremiah went to the couch and tapped conrad. "hey. here."

"come on, man. hurry your ass up, i can't be late to my first day of work." steven rushed jeremiah. "those little country club boomers are gonna tip me so hard they won't know what hit 'em!"

i made a disgusted look at steven. "ew. steven, i swear."

"come on, y/n." jeremiah laughed. "my boys gotta get that bread."

"stop." i shook my head at him.

i look over to see belly walking in the kitchen, and i give her a small smile.

"good morning." jeremiah says to her in an enthusiastic tone.

"belly, where have you been?" laurel asks her in a serious tone. "is that a bruise."

belly stands next to me and i run my fingers over the bruise. "mom, relax, she tripped when we were at the bonfire and landed on her face." i lied, i knew belly wouldn't wanna tell the actual story

"doesn't look that bad." conrad said from the couch, i look over at him, and made eye contact with him for a few seconds before returning my focus back to belly.

"uh, cereal?" jeremiah asked belly.

"yeah, hit me." belly softly responded.

"oh, my god!" susannah ran into the kitchen. "belly and y/n are going to be debutantes!" she hugged both of us.

belly laughed. "it's really not that big of a deal."

i'd forgotten all about the whole deb thing. it'd be hard trying to balance a summer job and being a deb, on top of that, i'd have to find a date.

"i'm sorry, like those two? my sisters, right there?" steven teased us.

"shut up, cretin!" i shot back.

"okay, this is going to be so much fun!" susannah fantasized. "just you wait. there's the tea, the auction, the- ball, of course.. i gotta write this down. we need to go shopping!"

"this sounds expensive." laurel said.

"oh, don't worry, laur, it's on me." susannah smiled. "it was my idea after all."

"y/n, are you sure you wanna do this?" laurel asked me. "it doesn't seem very you."

in truth, not really. but if it made susannah happy, it made me happy. i had to do it for her.

"it's not." conrad, once again, added his two cents from the couch.

i don't know how he went from how he used to act towards me to.. this.

"conrad, could you please be a little more supportive?" susannah told him. "now, which one of you are gonna be belly or y/n's escort to the ball."

"not me." conrad immediately responded.

"shocker." i say, in a sarcastic tone.

"i went last year." conrad finished his sentence.

"me neither. i swore off balls." jeremiah told us, causing steven to laugh. "the dances dude!" jeremiah said, laughing.

"wow, guys!" i say, sarcastically. "stop fighting over us."

"i'm not going with either of you." belly finally spoke up. "i am going to find my own date.

"it says debutantes require instruction, morals, and social etiquette." laurel read off her laptop.

"i'm going for a swim." conrad leaves through the back door, as i watched him go.

"yeah, y/n could use some etiquette." steven laughed.

"and you wonder why you don't have a girlfriend." i rolled my eyes.

all the sound drowned out as i watched conrad from the window, in his shorts, and no shirt on. i missed how things used to be.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. "you alright, y/n?" jeremiah asked me.

"yeah." i tried push aside anything feelings. "we should probably go soon."

"wait." susannah spoke up. "before you go, we have shopping to do!"

"seriously?" i asked. "i have work. i'm not going shopping."

but that wasn't true. susannah is a really convincing person, so before i knew it, i was shopping around stores with susannah, laurel, and belly, for the debutante thing.

i tried on different dresses, all colors, and different accessory's, hats, sunglasses, and bow, bags over my hands and arms.

then, i had to try on a debutante dress, i found a beautiful white long dress, i loved it, but maybe conrad and laurel were right. this whole thing was not my scene.

what have i done?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

[redr0sewrites]

🥀2K Follower Event🥀

🥀A/n: hi everyone!!! i've finally made it to 2K followers and i am so soo soooo happy + excited!!! i never thought id make it this far and i am very excited to celebrate with all of you. in honor of me finally reaching this goal, ive created a prompt list below that u can all use to send in requests. thank u all again for helping me on this journey, ily all!!!

🥀How it Works:

send in a request with the prompt number you would like, along with the character(s) you would like me to write it for and whether or not you want the fic to be nsfw/sfw

if you want any additional information on the reader to be included (gender, race, fashion, or any other descriptors) please include those w the request as well

up to 3 characters per request, as i want to realistically be able to finish them all without burning out

prompts may be used twice, but not for the same character. multiple characters may be used for the same prompt but a singular character can not be reused for that prompt.

i will be accepting requests until the event closes, and i will update this post once that happens

if a request goes against my rules and guidelines on my pinned masterpost, the request will simply not be written

i will work on requests chronologically, so please be patient.

🥀Request Format Examples:

hi! can i request prompt #28 with rengoku and a mtf!reader? i'd like the fic to be sfw! tysm and have a great day!

heyy can u write prompt #7 with aaravos and make it nsfw? thx!

can i request prompt #33 (sfw) with jayroy (jason todd and roy harper) x masc!reader? thankss!

🥀Prompts:

"you can't just show up like this! are you hurt?"

"where are you?"

"somebody is in loooveee!!"

"of course they don't like me, that's ridiculous!... did they say anything to you about me?"

"i don't like you- i love you."

"its so cold without you."

"i guess im just disappointed."

"did you hurt them?"

"i can't stand them, their stupid smile and their stupid laugh and their stupid crooked teeth- oh."

"why are your hands so cold?!"

"ive never felt like this before.."

"because i love you! i've loved you since the moment i saw you, i just can't take it anymore. i want you to be with me!"

"i wasted so much time chasing after them, and for what?"

"do you even like me?" "i love you-" "thats not what i asked. sure, you love me, but do you even like me as a person?"

"it feels- it feels good.."

"don't be shy, darling"

"i wish you saw yourself the way that i see you."

"i never hated you!"

"are you mad at me?"

"i'm just so sick of trying to be something im not. i hope you can forgive me."

"please don't cry, shh, your okay."

"i want you, no one else."

"do you trust me?"

"ive never been touched there.."

"i want you inside me/i want to be inside you"

"you taste so sweet.."

"why can't you see that i love you?"

"is that my shirt your wearing?"

"aww, are you stuck baby?"

"i thought i lost you again"

"our baby would be so cute..."

"you're so pretty like this.."

"i love you." "you're drunk, you dont- you don't mean that.."

"i hate how easy it is for me to love you again."

"are you.. scared of me?"

"aw, don't cry prince/ss"

"i need to stay awake, but i'm just so tired... can you stay? please?"

"i'm just going to end up hurting you-" "i know you'd never hurt me"

"would it be embarrassing if i said i missed you?"

"fuck- feel me all up in your guts, baby?"

"stay still, this will only hurt for a second, jus' relax for me, kay?"

"i know you can take it, just breathe"

"i need you so bad.. it hurts-"

"do you wanna join, or are you just gonna keep watching?"

"no one else will get to see me like this, i can promise you that"

"come closer, i need you"

"you look absolutely stunning like this"

"i'm sorry i wasn't there before, but i'm here now, and i always will be"

"i can't get up with you laying on top of me!"

"shit." "what?" "so, uh, theres only one bed.."

most of these i made up myself by just imagining random fanfic scenarios, but a few were ideas from friends, so credit to them! again, thank you all so much for supporting me and for helping me get this far ♥️♥️♥️

[pascalscoffin]

Away From The Devil pt. III

Full Pedro Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part IV

Series Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. I just don't want kiddos here. Yeah it’s all rewritten with the reader added in if ya don’t like it don’t read it. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Reader is like 24, Joel is still 56 cause… hot. Anyway. Joel is finally a little nicer to reader. Cursing. Insight on Joel’s brain cause the bastard never speaks (whatever whatever I love him anyway). Joel reflects on Sarah’s mom (not fondly). Kinda flips to his pov for a sec whatever it’s fine. (Joel has a “revelation” but not really.)

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You woke up the next morning to bubbling and an oddly fmailiar smell that had your stomach tingling a little at the memory of it. Coffee. The coffee in Silver Lake had run out pretty quickly, people desperate to stay warm once the power cut out guzzled it down like they hadn't had anything to drink in days, you remembered your mom giving you some to warm you up a few times before it had been drank.

Ellie was curled up in her sleeping bag, head hidden by the green cloth. Joel, of course, was making sure his things were packed and ready, probably so he could rush whoever woke up next, it seemed like a Joel thing to do.

When he noticed you were awake he paused for a second and cleared his throat before going over to the coffee maker. "You uh... you like coffee..?" He mumbled, looking at you out of the corner of his eye and holding up the lid of a thermos. "Only got the one thermos but uh... lid doubles as a cup so..."

“Um.. yeah that would be nice.” You sat up slowly and rubbed your eye. “Um… look about snapping at you last night-“ “you don’t have to apologize.” “I wasn’t- well I was but not really cause… you were kinda being a douche.” When he looked over at you with that same grumpy look you laughed softly.

“I get it though… you have to protect her.” Your eyes fell to the lump of sleeping bag. “… she’s special. I don’t know what it is but.. there’s just… something that makes you wanna stay by her.” You sighed. “So.. just letting you know.. I get it and I don’t intend to make shit harder for you. If you’d let me help is like to make it a little easier.”

Joel nodded a little and looked towards Ellie as he handed you the thermos lid filled almost to the top with coffee. “Yeah.. she is.” He sighed and took a sip from the thermos, slurping it loudly. After a moment Ellie groaned loudly and tugged the sleeping bag off her face to give Joel the harshest glare she could muster in her state. “Seriously?”

“Good now you’re both awake.” Joel stood up. “Get your shit packed. We gotta go.” You stood up and took a sip of your coffee before sitting it down on a nearby rock. “Ugh- you drink that shit too? It smells like burnt shit.” You looked back at Ellie and laughed. “How do you even know what burnt shit smells like?”

“Whatever. Smells disgusting.” Ellie made a face and rolled up her sleeping bag before shoving everything else into her bag. “You just wait.. you’ll be begging for a cup by the time you get seventeen. Especially in this economy.”

“There is no economy anymore.” Joel squinted at you as the three of you started walking, you rolled your eyes. “It was a joke, Joel.” “Do you know what an economy is?” “I can read!” You huffed and shook your head. “What’s with your dumbification of apocalypse kids?” “Dumbification?” “Yeah.” The two of you looked at eachother for a moment, squinting at eachother before Ellie cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway…” she pulled a map from her back pocket and looked at it.

“There’s a museum… right here I think. Some kinda famous museum or something. Can we go?” She looked at Joel, pointing to something on her map, which seemed to just be a map of where you were. “No.” “Oh come on, Joel!” Ellie groaned. “We gotta go!” “Why do we “gotta go”?” “Well- cause- it’s a museum, Joel! Come on! I’m just gonna keep asking until you say yes and then you’ll be grumpy all day again.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to them interact with eachother. You were surprised they weren't actually father and daughter, they bickered like they were. "Well what about y/n I bet she wants to go." Ellie peered around Joel as you looked up with wide eyes. "Oh no. This isn't my argument." You laughed weakly. "Come on, you don't wanna go to a museum? See what kinda shit old people like Joel considered important?" Joel grunted at that and gave her a small glare.

You glanced at Joel, and then Ellie, back and forth between the two for a second before you sighed heavily. "I mean... a museum dooooes sound kinda fun." Ellie cheered as Joel groaned.

“That’s two to one old man.” Ellie grinned and held her fist out to you. You looked at her fist and laughed softly before bumping yours into hers. You looked back at Joel as the two of you walked ahead. “Anyone ever tell you that face makes you look constipated?” Ellie laughed. “It totally fucking does!” Joel grunted and squinted at you. You gave him an innocent smile before looking forward.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

When you got to the museum it was collapsed a little, not impossible to get into, not even a struggle at all, but the letters had rusted off the front of the museum so you couldn’t really see the name of it anymore. The doors had been taken down by the rubble so it was now just a gaping hole. As the three of you stepped in you pulled out your gun, looking around to try and see through the shadows.

“Woah..” Ellie mumbled as she looked around, smiling at the way the sun shone on the slightly flooded floor, kicking the water a bit, looking at you before smirking and kicking a little water your way. You looked over at her and let out a playful gasp when the water hit your leg. “Oh you wanna go to war?” You teased.

Ellie shrugged innocently and looked around like she hadn’t done anything. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She glanced at you before smiling and kicking water at you again, harder so it splashed you higher this time. “Oh it’s on.” You laughed before leaning down and scooping up a handful of water in your two hands. “Hey, now. It was just innocent fun.” Ellie took a step back.

“Oh is that all it was? Innocent fun?” Ellie nodded and raised her hands. “Mhm.” Ah, the deceit, the feigned forfeit. “Alright, alright. I believe you.” You smiled and dropped the water. “.. or maybe not.” You bent down and splashed her legs. She stepped back and looked up at you, the two of you laughing before you started splashing eachother with the water.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Joel watched the two of you off to the side, keeping a close eye around to make sure nothing crept up on you. When he pushed his grumpiness to the side, ignored the nagging overprotective urge that rang deep in his gut.. he could acknowledge your attractiveness.

Your smile helped, the usual haunted look in your eyes masked momentarily by the joy you were feeling. It was a beautiful smile. It had a feeling stirring in him that he hadn’t felt in almost thirty years, when his relationship with Sarah’s mom had been good and the love was actually there. Maybe that was part of the reason for his hostility, not that he had a problem with women.. just women he had feelings for.

He’d thought him and Sarah’s mom were going to last, but he couldn’t make her happy, and after Sarah had been born… she’d decided she wanted a divorce and Joel, again ignoring that feeling telling him to just let her go, tried to talk her into staying, giving promises to be a better husband, better father. She’d denied it all, saying she just wanted “out”, away. So, Joel agreed to the divorce and he was given full custody of Sarah… and then Sarah was-

“Hellooooo earth to Joel.” Ellie snapped her fingers in front of Joel’s face a couple times. When he looked up the two of you were almost completely soaked. “Wow. Have fun?” You and Ellie grinned, nodding and laughing a little. “Fuck yeah we did. Now we go that way.” Ellie pointed deeper into the museum and started walking.

You and Joel looked at eachother for a moment before he was going off after Ellie, leaving you there for just a second before you followed him, speeding up a bit to catch up with Ellie. You never really got the chance to act like a kid, sure you could play games at Silver Lake but.. there was always a tension there that made it impossible to be comfortable. So it was nice to be able to have fun.

There was tension with Joel and Ellie too, but the tension was different and more with Joel than it was Ellie. You and Ellie were already thick as thieves. Joel seemed slightly more content with your presence since your speech lastnight and your speech this morning.

You stood in the middle of the room next to Ellie, the two of you staring up at the way the sun shine in through the hole in the ceiling. You closed your eyes when you felt a breeze blow through, smiling lightly and sighing softly through your nose.

Then you heard it.. several clicks off in the corner. Your head jerked over in that direction. The Clicker was jerking its head from side to side, your breathing likely aiding it in making its way towards you. Towards Ellie. You grabbed her jacket and instinctively tugged her behind you. You did feel slightly obligated to Ellie because of what she’d done to David, but it was more than that, a deep carnal urge to protect her, keep her safe.

As you moved her behind you, Joel reached out and grabbed her other arm to tug her behind him as well. As the three of you took a step back, Ellie stepped on a piece of glass that had fallen from the hole in the ceiling, likely damaged during a storm. The Clicker jerked its head towards the noise and immediately started to sprint towards the three of you.

You spun around and started to run out of the building with Joel and Ellie, muttering fuck fuck fuck under your breath, feeling your feet pound against the tile flooring just as you got to the door, but at the last second the Clicker had managed to grab the back of your clothes and sling you back into the room with a loud clicking screech.

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You stumbled back, tripping a little and rolling on the ground, groaning softly and closing your eyes before shaking your head and yanking them open, quickly remembering why you were on the ground. You scrambled to your feet quickly and looked over at the knife on the floor, and then back at the Clicker. It made a few clicking noises, standing between you and the door so there was no way to quickly make it past him.

You just barely saw Joel and Ellie in the other room and when Joel had taken a step toward you, his boot squeaking just a bit before he froze, the clicker jerked its head towards the noise, clicking curiously and taking a step towards them. No no no. “Hey!” The word came out so fast you didn’t even really know you were saying it until the clicker was running at you again.

“Mother-“ you bolted off to the side and ran for your knife, sliding on your knees on the floor as you grabbed it and spun around just as the clicker ran into you. Again, you were on the ground on your back, the clicker screeching in your face as it fought to try and get a bite at you.

When you reeled your knife back to stab the clicker in the head it had reached down to scratch you, the knife stabbing through its hand. “FUCK!” You screamed before finally managing to wrestle the clicker underneath you, yanking your knife out of its hand, wrestling the right one under your left knee and the left one under your right knee before lifting your knife and bringing it down into the clicker’s mushroom face.

After the first stab you just kept going, your back to Ellie and Joel As you stabbed the Clicker for a final time, you let out a simultaneous scream with its screech, leaning down so you were closer to its face before you ripped your knife from it.

When you felt a hand grab your shoulder you freaked out and flipped your attacker onto their back beside the Clicker, knife raised for another attack. But when you heard Joel speak, you froze and just looked down at him, breathing heavily.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“Woah, woah! It’s me!” Joel looked at you with his hands showing to show you he didn’t have anything and wasn’t going to hurt you. You looked like a cornered feral animal, eyes wide and pupils blown, your hair, which had previously been thrown up into a ponytail was now loose with stray hairs falling in front of your face, your cheeks puffing out with each exhale. “It’s just Joel.”

He watched as you calmed down, your grip loosening on your knife, he got up when you moved off of him and held his hand out to help you up. Your hand stayed there for a moment, your eyes locked with Joel’s as he gave you a simple nod of his head, his lips quirked up just a little bit in the corner.

“That was so fucking awesome!” Ellie ran over to you. “You just fought a Clicker! With your fucking hands!” She looked at Joel, who hadn’t stopped looking at you. “Joel there’s no way we can just let her leave! She’s gotta stay! I mean- she flipped you, dude! And you’re huge! Look at him, he’s completely speechless. You’re staying.”

Joel snapped his head towards Ellie when she said that, his eyes wide. He squinted at her, and she squinted back at him, then he let out a sigh through his nose, exasperated with Ellie’s brashness and refusal to talk to him before making this kind of decision, Ellie mocked him. “You’re staying- I mean… if you want to.” Ellie looked at you finally.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You’d been staring at them, trying to figure out what this silent conversation was about. During the wait you’d taken the chance to acknowledge what Ellie had said… he wasn’t really huge, since the start of the apocalypse you’ve seen some truly horrifyingly huge men, he was still a solid, impressively built man, though.

His hands were big, fingers thick and they felt calloused when they brushed against the skin on your arm when you’d flipped him, you weren’t even really sure how you did that, you guessed the adrenaline that was still making your hands jittery. His arms were thick, shoulders broad, and his chest matched them perfectly, all covered in a perfect tan.

Oh. Shit.

“Yeah… yeah I’d like that.” You laughed awkwardly, wiping your hands on your wet clothes and looking around to make sure you had everything, looking up at them and motioning towards the doors. “Well. Shall we?” You turned and started walking out of the building, clearing your throat a little.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Ellie and Joel followed suit, Ellie watching you admirably, while Joel just… watched you. Stoic look on his face, his brows less furrowed, though, but his frown not as deep.

Ellie picked up on it immediately. “That was really cool.” She told him. “She wrestled a fucking Clicker, Joel. It was epic.” Joel glanced at Ellie, and then back to you and nodded. “Yeah, she’s…”

“Hot.” Joel’s eyes shot open wide and he looked at Ellie. He was going to say impressive… it was odd the things the younger generation found attractive, though, now that’s it brought to his attention… he guessed hot was.. a pretty good description. Not that fighting for your life was hot, but watching you absolutely demolish one of those things was quite possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“I fucking knew it.” Ellie smirked at Joel and then looked forward again. “You’ve got the hots for her.” “Jesus- I do not- and I’m not talking about this with you. I’m old enough to be her father.” He scoffed as Ellie rolled her eyes. “I thought girls used to be into that shit?” “How the hell are you learnin all this shit but you didn’t know what a damn seatbelt was?”

Ellie groaned. “That doesn’t matter.” “I think it matters.” “What matters is you’ve got the hots for her and she has the hots for you.” “Ellie we’re not talking about this anymore.” “Why not? We’re both adults.” “You’re not an adult.” Joel raised a brow at her. “… fine. We’re an adult and… a quarter of an adult. But Y’know- I’m old enough to watch one of those pg13 movie things by myself, so.” “Oh my-“ “so that means I’m old enough to talk about this stuff.” “Please make it stop-“ “and you’re just being grumpy cause I’m telling the truth and now you have to think about it.” Ellie slapped his back and then sped up to walk next to you.

Maybe he should’ve left her with Marlene and that woman with the blown off ear. Was saving the world really worth all this constant taunting by a 14 year old? And the puns- god the puns… okay so… maybe the puns weren’t so bad… the taunting was actually funny sometimes… and maybe you weren’t so bad either.

But that doesn’t mean he “has the hots” for you. Jesus where was Ellie learning all this shit from. All the damn books at FEDRA and not one of them mentioned a seatbelt, yet coincidentally “qualified” Ellie to determine whether or not Joel is attracted to you?

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Taglist:

@romanarose @orcasoul

[driflew]

hello hello i have another au cherri and i came up with! this one’s called blindsided and this is the backstory that sets up the rest of the storyline. ive posted two bits about it for six sentence sunday, but that’s basically all. so uh. woe no context one shot be upon ye 

Martyn’s out late.

That’s not necessarily unusual—Most nights, Ren wouldn’t even care. Martyn has a tendency to lose track of time, and he loves to wander almost as much as he loves Ren. It’s not uncommon for him to take an extra hour or so to get home after going out on this or that errand, usually with an interesting story or something extra tucked under his arm. Really, Ren hadn’t been worried at all… at least, not for the first hour.

It’s gotten dark now. Martyn was supposed to be home a few hours ago, and Ren is really starting to worry. He’s being unreasonable, he’s sure, but he flags down a member of his staff all the same.

“Could you run into town and find Martyn? He must’ve lost track of the time. Tell him he doesn’t have to come home, but I’d at least like to know what’s keeping him.” Ren bites his lip, wringing his hands. “I’d prefer it if he came home, though.”

The man nods. He turns and heads out the door without another word, leaving Ren to sit by himself. Town isn’t far, but Martyn likes to roam…

Ren picks up a book off the table and sits down. He’ll be here a while.

—

“My lord?” Ren starts awake at the sound of his title, book falling out of his lap. He doesn’t remember dozing off, but he scoops the book off the ground anyway.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man says, but Ren smiles, waving him off.

“It’s fine,” Ren says, then looks past him. The hall is empty. “Martyn was busy, then?”

The man looks away.

“Your grace, uh,” the man stumbles. He glances over Ren, still seated at the fire, and then says, “He’s dead, sire.”

“…What?”

“He— there was a fight. I asked around for— for a while. A pirate engaged Martyn in the street and stabbed him in the back. The fight moved to an alley and, while I couldn’t find anyone who saw it, uh, he was heard, uh… people heard the scuffle. From the main street and from the buildings around it. When it stopped, he was carried away, and he was… they said he, um, didn’t look to be breathing, and there was a lot of, um— To confirm it, I visited the alley, still bearing proof of the fight, and it was. Bad. Even if he survived the fight, by now, with the pirates that took him, he’s certainly bled too much. I-I’m sorry.”

Ren says nothing, not for a long while. His mouth hangs open, his body still a mockery of the relaxed way he’d been leaning back in his chair.

That… can’t be true, can it? Martyn is strong. Surely he wouldn’t…

“Gather— gather as much of the staff as you can. We’re going to— we have to look for—” Ren stammers, climbing out of the chair. “The pirates, the ones who— what did they look like? If they have Martyn, I want him back.”

The man looks at him sadly, but nods. “I’ll gather the staff and meet you by the gate, and I’ll tell everyone what I heard.”

—

The search turns up nothing, but not for lack of trying. Martyn had been popular among the staff, and many of the men and women on the streets would call themselves his friends.

It is for precisely this reason no one will let Ren see the alleyway. He knows even without asking that he’s found the right one—all he has to do is follow the overpowering smell of copper and iron.

“It might have clues as to who did this!” Ren insists.

“We can review the clues,” says one of the posted guards.

“I would like to help,” Ren insists, “We don’t have time to be arguing about this. Martyn could still be alive.”

The two guards at the mouth of the alley share a glance, all pity. Ren bites his tongue to keep from snapping.

“Your grace, if I may,” the second guard says, “We’re trying to look out for you. It will only upset you to see the site of the crime.“

Ren considers saying that he’s already quite upset, thank you, but he doesn’t want to antagonize them into keeping him entirely out.

“I can handle myself,” Ren says, entirely without basis. “Let me through.”

They do, though not without another long, pitying glance.

Ren steps past.

For a moment, Ren thinks the alley may be paved with brick. The realization that it’s simply blood, splattered across half the alley, nearly knocks him over, but shock keeps him upright.

Well, that and the smell. Ren doesn’t think he could handle getting any closer to it by falling to his knees.

There’s plenty of proof here that the victim was… wasn’t mistaken. Martyn’s sword lies forgotten on the tiles, leather hilt stained a deeper brown.

There’s something lying in the thickest part of the puddle. Ren steps closer without a word, lifting his sleeve to his nose.

Martyn’s braid lies in the middle of the alley. He knows it intimately—he’d been the one to tie it just this morning, had placed the ribbon at the end himself. The cut is jagged and uneven, and it’s come loose on the end that would have… would have been attached to Martyn’s head. This, too, is covered in blood, just like everything else, and flakes off into Ren’s hand as he picks it up.

Ren holds it close to his chest, turning and leaving the alleyway without another word.

—

They don’t find him. Ren looks the entire night, braid clutched in one white-knuckle grip. He’s careful not to let it go, fearing that it may unravel if he isn’t. This is, he tells himself, a quality unique to the braid, and mirrors nothing and no one.

—

Ren is still holding it when he goes to sleep that night. It doesn’t smell like Martyn— at least, not exclusively. Hints of him are left when Ren pushes his nose into it, but they’re lost quickly to the smell of blood.

This smells like Martyn, too, of course, but is not a scent Ren ever thought he’d become familiar with.

He doesn’t change. Martyn is often the one who helps him, and he doesn’t think to ask anyone else. Not that it matters what he wears to bed tonight. Ren thinks sleep will be impossible, all alone in that bed for two.  

The truth is, Ren is so exhausted after searching for Martyn, he sleeps like the dead. As far as Ren knows, it’s the last moment of connection he and Martyn will ever have.

—

The braid’s come untangled when he wakes up, loose hair lying beside his pillow, held together only by a red bow.

Ren has no bow to hold him together, and for the first and last time after losing Martyn, he shoves his face into the fistful of hair and sobs.

—

It seems, for a while, like a random act of bad luck. Martyn was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s heartbreaking, and Ren doesn’t understand it, but at least it’s over.

He finds the box on his bed. It’s labeled with Ren’s name, signed by Martyn’s, but the handwriting isn’t his. It’s too nice, too neat.

One of his staff must have put it here, but why? They might be trying to cheer him up, but… Why does Ren feel so uneasy?

There’s something about the box that makes Ren want to turn and run. He no longer has anyone to hide behind, though, so he lifts the box.

It’s light. When he shakes it, he hears glass. When he opens it, he—

When he opens it—

When he—

Ren… doesn’t remember much about opening the box. He hears about it second hand, only when his staff thinks he’s out of earshot.

He was screaming for hours afterward, says one, and though Ren doesn’t remember, his throat is still sore.

He wouldn’t let go. It had to be pried out of his hands, says another. Ren looks down. There are bruises on his wrist he doesn’t remember getting.  

I heard his grace passed out after. Is that true? Ren’s head is still sore where the back of his head allegedly collided with the bed frame.

I haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t let anyone into his chambers and he doesn’t come out anymore. How is he supposed to let anyone in? Someone in this house left this on his bed. His bed, where he and Martyn used to sleep, and he has no idea who. It could be any of them. It could be all of them.

That’s so scary. Is it safe to stay? I’m thinking about leaving… Leave, then. Ren doesn’t want or need a single one of them.

Did you see what it looked like? Ren doesn’t need to eavesdrop for that. Martyn’s eye is something he’d known intimately before, had been able to speak to and understand without even a word. He’d recognize it immediately, even severed, even blank.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget opening it. The box had been a flimsy cardboard, and had opened easily. There had been writing on the inside flap, more elegant than the text outside.

BACK DOWN, it had read, OR SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN.

And then he’d looked down.

When he thinks of Martyn now, it’s hard to remember anything except the glazed blue eye that had stared back.

If there’s a god out there, Ren hopes He’ll tell Martyn how sorry he is.

—

The thing is, it almost works. Ren hardly leaves his room, and when he does, he stays within the manor. Much of his staff leaves in that time, and of those left, he fires almost all.

The criteria is simple. Anyone whose whereabouts the night the box appeared he can’t ascertain beyond reasonable doubt, he sends away.

The staff consists of a few cooks, a few gardeners, a few maids, a few aides. Most of his attendants leave on their own—no one wants to be seen near Ren.

Despite the small staff, the manor workload gets lighter. Ren’s life ends the same day Martyn’s does.

It’s fear that drives him. They took his body, after all—there is nothing Ren fears more than receiving another piece.

It keeps him in bed. It keeps him awake. He won’t risk anything, not a toe out of line. He cows entirely, and it doesn’t save him. Every night, he sees it—a box on his bed, his hands reaching without his input, something staring back.

—

It takes a few months for sympathy to dry up. Ren’s back to doing only the bare minimum, running his estate and only his estate—staying exactly in his own lane. He hears his little staff whispering about it, though. About how it was bad, sure, but really, he’s supposed to be a duke. He can’t lie in bed moping forever. At this rate, they may as well give the title to someone else, someone less… fragile.

That would mean losing the manor, though. Losing their home, losing the place Martyn spent all his life. Losing the dream he and Martyn made together.

So Ren climbs out of bed. He gets dressed all on his own, dries his face, and vows not to let Martyn’s life have been wasted on him.

He has no choice.

—

It’s fear that drives him. Ren is afraid all the time. Afraid he’ll lose his home. Afraid he’ll waste Martyn’s life by not doing enough. Afraid he’ll receive another box by doing too much.

But Ren can’t be afraid. Not where anyone can see him.

So Ren is angry all the time.

They call him ruthless, volatile, cold as ice. He doesn’t think that’s fair—he’s never sent anyone a severed limb. But if they think he’s ruthless, maybe they’ll think twice before crossing him. Maybe if he’d been cold then…

He burns, constantly, fire seering at his heels to keep him running ever forward. There’s no safe place to rest, and so he won’t.

His dreams make sure of that.

Ren wakes up gasping, hands curled tight around something that isn’t real. Sometimes it’s an eye, sometimes it’s not. A finger, a hand, a tongue. A head, one socket empty, the other bright and intelligent and looking right at him—

He doesn’t think he’s dreamed of anything but that box for a year after he opens it. They die down a bit, but return every time Ren is stressed.

Ren is stressed all the time.

Tired, too, absolutely exhausted, not that it helps him get any sleep. He works in his office to avoid it, staying up late into the night managing this or that until he sees deeds and bills behind his eyelids instead.

—

He wants to move beds, but how could he? This was Martyn’s, too, was once the place he felt safest. He can’t leave it, even if it features so prominently in the worst moment of his life.

Hiding under their blankets like it’ll protect him, Ren has to wonder. What would Martyn think of him now?

He’ll never know, but the eye changes. He dreams of pity, an eye floating in a bottle of sympathetic tears. He dreams of accusation, bloody fingerprints staining the glass. He dreams of scorn, an eye that won’t even look at him. He dreams of love, rarely.

—

Theirs is not the bed he’s taken from, at the least.

No, King Ren is stolen from the castle, so as to be sure he never feels safe in any place he could conceivably consider home.

—

Ren sits on the deck of the ship, kneels at the feet of the Captain. When he looks up at the man who has stolen him from his new home, he finds himself eye level with a coat he knows very well.

The Captain speaks of assassination, then of ransom. Promises not to hurt the King, so long as he can get money for his life.

Ren wants to scoff, but he doesn’t. The only man who would have paid for his life is long dead, and the Captain wears a trophy of his murder tied around his waist.

Ren knows fear. He knows how to bury it, too, how to smother it in so much anger it boils him alive in his own bubbling, frothing blood.

He is so beyond the point of being afraid for his worthless, meaningless life. If he can make the Captain bleed, then it will all have been worth it.

[adudelolwriting]

Lord was dying.

Lord was dying.

He knew his time would come eventually. But she didn't want to die fighting Chosen. Lord never wanted to hurt Chosen, and he wanted to die peacefully next to Chosen's side.

But Lord never got what she wanted, did she?

His vision was dark, now. Every inch of her skin was stinging and burnt. His breathing was labored — it took so much just to breathe in, and then breathe out. 

Lord was dying.

Lord was dead.

Maybe she's been dead since the start. Being created by Noogia3 all those years ago caused him to die. Fighting Chosen these past years caused her to die. 

Being laser blasted by a new hollowhead had caused him to die.

It was fun while it lasted, wasn't it? Spending time with Chosen the past year. Stargazing. Picnics. Baking cookies together. 

Yeah, it was nice, Lord thought to herself as she felt her own life force slowly draining, her color fading, I wouldn't change it for the world.

His eyes felt heavy as he blinked, and in his final breaths, of course he started to hallucinate. 

A coughing fit racked itself through Lord's body. Weakly, she softly said, "hey, Cho, come here often?" A small smile fell on his face, feeling the light trickle of blood fall from his lips. Chosen was crying, for some reason, and Chosen's mouth was moving with no words being said. Chosen looked back over Chosen's shoulder, but there wasn't anything there.

"The silent…. treatment?" Lord coughed again, lungs burning as the charred skin twisted and contorted. Lord wheezed for a couple moments, letting out a breathless laugh. A second hollowhead now was worryingly looking over Lord's body now — the orange one, the one that killed Lord. 

I want to remember the good times, Lord thought as she closed her eyes, I don't want to see the kid who killed me. I want to remember Chosen.

Lord was dead.

Lord was dead.

Lord was dead… 

Right?

He opened his eyes, only to reclose them and hiss in pain. She was not outside anymore. After a moment of shallow breathing, he noticed his breathing felt limited. She opened her eyes once more, and saw she was completely covered in bandages.

This was not what the Afterlife would have been like. Why do you have to heal from the injuries that killed you? That seems ineffective.

Lord looked to his left, and saw an IV drip placed in his arm, with a few different bags of liquid connecting to it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she carefully reached over and yanked the IV out of her arm.

"Hey!! Don't do that!" A voice said, and Lord's head instantly shot over towards a blue stick figure. "It's okay — It's me, Blue? We're trying to help you get better."

Lord's eyes froze on a large scar across the child's face. The scar that she gave them. Lord knew he was a shitty stick, but Cursor, did his personal hell really have to have the child he killed in a haze be his caretaker?

The kid — Blue — called for somestick named Yellow, who was fully dressed in some doctor's outfit. Cliche much?

"Oh good, you're actually awake. You need to keep that IV in, okay? It's giving you some potions and water for your system." Yellow smiled. "I'm just gonna put this IV back in, okay?"

Lord jumped as Yellow was now right next to her. His hand was gently resting on Lord's wrist before she yanked it back, gaining a small shout from the two stick figures in the room. Her lips pulled back, showing her razor sharp teeth as she hissed at these two kids. 

Blue seemed in shock for a moment, before shaking their head. "We're trying to help you, Lord. Can Yellow please put the IV in? We can explain what each liquid is."

Lord… didn't give them her name. "How do… How do you know my name?" She asked, her throat hoarse like she had spent the past four hours screaming.

"Uh—" The two stick figures looked at each other. "Chosen told us. Do… Do you know where you are?"

Lord looked around the room. Now that she took a moment to look at it, she noticed how pixelated and… blocky everything was. Nothing like she's seen before. "Am I dead?"

"What — no! No, you're alive, and we're trying to heal you." Yellow glances over to Blue. "That's… kinda why we need to put the IV back in?"

A thought popped into Lord's head. "Where's Chosen?"

"He's outside, we can get him—" 

Lord cringed instantly. "Chosen doesn't have pronouns." 

"Oh, sorry. Uh, do you want to see Chosen? We can go get h— Chosen for you?" Blue asked. "We just — we really need the IV back, or you're gonna start hurting again."

Lord thought about it for a few moments. "I… I don't know. Does… Chosen even want to see me?"

"Of course! Chosen's still here, waiting for you to wake up. Chosen doesn't know if you want to see Chosen, either." 

"I… I want to see Chosen. Could you explain what… you're putting in my body while you get Chosen?" Lord asked, eyeing the few IV bags. 

Blue perked up as Yellow left the room. Blue explained that there's a water IV, one for fire resistance(??) and one for regeneration(????), and that Lord was already looking better than when she first got here. "We'll have to wait for Yellow to come back so he can put the IV back in your arm." Blue sighs, smiling, though Lord can see the fear in their eyes. "Only me and Yellow are allowed in here, and uh… once Yellow goes through the normal doctor-y stuff, did you want us to leave so you and Chosen could… I don't know, talk, or something?"

"Yeah, I think that'll probably be the best course of action. Why isn't anyone else allowed in here?"

"Well, Yellow's our doctor cause he's super smart, and I know a lot about potions that can help people! Plus, um—" Lord could tell they were making up a lie on the spot "— Yellow doesn't want anyone else to scare you or overcrowd you."

It was clear that they were scared of Lord. It makes sense everyone would be terrified — she's honestly surprised Blue and Yellow were keeping a solid conversation happening with her. "Right." 

A few more minutes passed before Yellow and The Chosen One walked into the room. Even though Chosen's face remains frozen, Lord knows Chosen well enough to see the array of emotions fly through Chosen's eyes. 

"I explained what all the thingies are for," Blue told Yellow, "and you're okay with putting the IV back in, right?" 

Lord nods, not breaking eye contact with Chosen. Yellow went to her left side, and installed a new IV into the crook of her elbow. Gauze was wrapped around her wrist, where she didn't even notice she was bleeding. Once Yellow finished, she saw Blue silently nod, and the two walked out of the room.

Only The Chosen One and The Dark Lord.

The silence was dampening. The two continued to stare at each other, before Lord sighed and tapped the chair next to the bed. "C'mere," Lord mumbled. Chosen walked over, sitting down next to Lord.

"Why did you do it?"

Lord inhaled deeply at that question. "Depends on what you're asking about." His head hit the back of the bed. "The whole virus thing? To enact revenge on Noogia. The… the damn code then took over after you hit me, and I just — I needed to kill you, and… I hurt those kids because I couldn't control myself."

"You killed them."

Lord rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I hurt them, and they're still trying to help me. They should have left me to rot." 

Chosen's eyes soften. "Don't say that, Lord. You know that's not true." Chosen takes her hand in Chosen's own. It looks like Chosen wants to say something, before shaking Chosen's head and going against it.

It's been a few hours since Lord has woken up, and he and Chosen have been talking about mostly random things. Lord was already feeling much better — thank you awesome super healing factor — and Yellow had stopped back in to check on him.

"It looks like everything should be okay. We might give you a few potions of the turtle master to help with pain, but they make you kinda groggy. Other than that, you should be good to go!" Yellow said excitedly while he changed the bandages.

"Oh my cursor," Lord said suddenly as a thought clicked, "you guys are game smugglers."

Yellow's head tilted to the side. "What's that?"

"Taking stuff from a game into the Outernet, or game or whatever. You guys are young for that though, where did you learn it from?"

Yellow's face twisted into confusion. "Uh—"

"They don't know what that is," Chosen said. "They don't live in the Outernet. They live on Noogia's computer." Lord's head whipped around to face Chosen.

"We're on His PC?" She asked. "I swear to Cursors, I'm going—"

"—To do nothing. This is these kids' home. He's… changed. They have it better than I did."

The Dark Lord opened his mouth to retaliate, to say 'we need to fight back! For what He did to you!' but he can see the look in Chosen's eyes. The tiredness. She shut her mouth quickly.

Yellow silently finished changing Lord's bandages, doing an awkward clap. "Well! Looks like you're ready to go!"

"Thanks, kid. Sorry about the whole… y'know. Thing." Wow. Great job.

"It's okay—" It really wasn't. "— Something similar kinda happened before. Um — heads up, King and Purple are here so the desktop's a bit crowded right now." Lord gave the kids a thumbs up before standing up from the bed with the help of Chosen.

Yeah, this was fun while it lasted, Lord thought, opening the door while leaning on Chosen's shoulder, but it'll be even better after this is over.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 1: Hospital

(featuring OC's Rowan and Victoria)

TW: Broken ribs, hospital, ghost, bruises, sprained wrist, IV drip, needle mention, heart monitor painkiller mention

Masterpost

Rowan regained consciousness slowly. At first, the only thing he was aware of was how he was somehow unable to fully draw breath. It was as if his chest was constricted somehow.

The second thing he became aware of was the stabbing pain and the sensation of bone grinding together whenever he tried to inhale too forcibly.

He groaned softly, which led to the discovery of a third thing: the plastic oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. He then noticed the softness of a bed beneath him, a blanket overtop him, the bandages bound tightly across his chest and around his left wrist. The fingers of his left hand twitched automatically with this newest discovery, and cold flames licked up his arm as a result.

Rowan’s eyes fluttered open. The harsh lights overhead threatened to blind him, and he squinted at his surroundings. He lay on his back in one of those hospital beds at an angle that wasn’t completely flat but not straight upright either, somewhere in between. The ceiling was made of foam squares with tiny black dots—or were those holes? He couldn’t tell—and the walls were a dull white.

As Rowan studied the walls, trying to determine if they were textured, a… figure… of some sort detached itself from the exact spot on the wall he was staring at. He barely made out the outline as it moved from one side of the room to the other before vanishing through the opposite wall. He blinked in shock, expecting to have felt some boiling unease at the sight of the specter. So the ghost was harmless…?

He continued his sweep of the room. A complex machine rested to the left of his bed, one of the screens displaying what he assumed was a heart monitor, beeping softly for every second that passed. An IV drip next to it almost drew his attention to the needle embedded in his arm, but he forced himself to look to the other side of the room.

On his right side was the door leading out to the rest of the hospital. Next to the door were two chairs, with the space for a third chair left empty. As his eyes finished moving to the right, he realized why. The chair had been moved closer to his bed, and sitting in it, with eyes closed and head resting at an uncomfortable angle against the wall, was Victoria.

Rowan stared at her, listening to the constant beeping of his heart and the distant whirring of some other machine nearby. Two cuts on her face had been cleaned and bandaged, and several bruises in various shades decorated what skin was visible underneath her loose band shirt and jeans. More time passed until he sheepishly realized he should probably let her know he was awake.

“Hey,” he said, wincing. Speaking hurt a lot more than he thought it would. It didn’t help that his throat felt like sandpaper. The oxygen mask fogged up when he talked and muffled the sound slightly. “I think this place is haunted.”

Victoria started awake, blinking rapidly as her eyes readjusted to the bright lights. “Oh—uh—you’re awake!” She gasped out when she noticed him staring at her.

“Uh… yeah.” He slowly inhaled, trying not to disturb his injuries. “...Did what’s-her-name break my ribs?”

“Yeah. Pretty badly, from what the doctors told us. They’ve had you on some pretty strong painkillers for hours now.”

“...ah… that would explain the ghost I saw.”

She squinted at him. “You saw a ghost?”

“Uhuh. Came right through that wall over there.” He lifted his right hand to point at the spot where it had emerged. “And passed through the wall behind me.”

Victoria stared at the wall he indicated. “Well…” she said softly, “I was about to tell you it was the painkillers, ghosts aren’t real, but I honestly don’t know what’s supposed to be real and what isn’t any more.” She turned back to him. “You weren’t really in a coherent state when we managed to get you here. All the blunt force trauma messed you up pretty badly. What do you remember of the fight?”

Rowan grimaced. “I remember Granite or whatever-her-name-was got pretty pissed off when I kept dodging the big rocks she was throwing, so she focused her efforts solely on me… and I saw Sam… and then…” he shrugged and immediately regretted it. “Ugh… think those painkillers are wearing off… where is Sam anyway? And Ollie?”

“Waiting room,” Victoria said casually. Standing, she stretched, making a face as her sore muscles and bruises protested. “They wouldn’t let us in at all, at first, but we insisted. They only relented on the condition it was one at a time and we wouldn’t try to wake you up. Ollie’s gonna be so mad when he finds out you woke up and he wasn’t there.” She glanced at the door. “Speaking of… I should let the nurses know you’re awake.”

She crossed the room to the door before pausing with one hand on the knob. “Don’t… do anything stupid.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Since when have I done anything stupid?”

Victoria smirked and left the room, the door silently shutting behind her. Rowan settled back and focused on breathing with as little pain as he could manage. An impossible task, perhaps, but doable. Once he got another dose of pain meds.

(Rowan and Victoria are from a project I'm currently referring to as my teen superhero story. They appear in another story that I haven't posted here yet but will eventually.)

[geeks-universe]

Can i request a Matt x reader where the reader doesn't remember Matt or their relationship (memory loss) she falls in love with him all over again just angst with a happy ending 💚

He knew the moment you opened your eyes.

It had been days since you’d been conscious, and he’d been at your side the entire time, only leaving when he’d been physically forced to get some fitful rest. His prayers were going unanswered with each second that you remained unmoving, your body almost lifeless if it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the slow, erratic beating of your heart.

The doctor said you were lucky to be alive.

He also said that there might be some lasting effects if you ever did wake up again.

So, the moment you stirred awake, Matt had been by your side, desperately reaching out. Instead of the reaction he expected, you had pulled away, scared. Your heart beat had picked up, and you managed little more than a weak whimper.

Matt called for the doctors, trying to console you without moving any closer. The nurses ushered him from the room, leaving him with no answers as he paced the waiting room irritably.

Nearly a day later, you were stable and awake.

The world felt different to you, though you couldn’t quite remember how it had been before. Everything was strange and new, and you found yourself staring out the window at the street below when Matt entered.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, so much pain and fear in such a small word.

You blinked, curious, and turned towards him.

The sight of him alone took your breath away.

His hair was messy, likely from running his fingers through it. The button-down he wore was wrinkled, and the tie around his neck was sloppy. Beneath the large, red glasses he wore there seemed to be one hell of a black eye.

Still, the air had been stolen from your lungs as you stared at him, your heart thumping faster in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized shyly. Idly, you rubbed near the IV in your arm. “Do I know you?”

The noise that fell from his lips was desperate, a plea maybe, or a curse.

“You, uh...” he licked his lips, his jaw visibly clenching. “You don’t remember?”

“I...” you faltered, approaching him cautiously.

He was still, tense. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, and you couldn’t find the strength in yourself to even lift your hand to touch his cheek.

“I don’t know.”

Your voice was shaky, tears gathering in your eyes as you squeezed them shut, willing yourself to remember, but there was nothing.

“I can’t remember anything.”

Matt slowly released his breath, clenching his fist to stop himself from reaching out to you.

If this was before the accident, he would’ve done so. He would’ve pulled you to him and held you close, willing the world away from the both of you for a while. But...

You weren’t his.

Not anymore.

He had never felt more lonely than in this moment, only an arm’s length away from you, but a lifetime of memories between you.

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but found no words could quite make it past his lips. What could he say? That he loved you? That you were his everything?

He felt the first few tears begin their trek down his cheeks as he settled on two simple words instead.

“I’m Matt.”

If you noticed his hesitation and the longing etched deep into his soul, you didn’t comment. Instead, you slipped your hand into his, exactly where it belonged.

Except, it wasn’t to hold him, to be close to him- no, it was just to shake his hand.

An introduction.

His heart ached painfully in his chest, and he fought the bile that threatened to rise up his throat.

Matt resolved himself to making you fall in love with him all over again that day, and as with the passage of time, he got to witness it all over again.

The days turned to weeks, the smiles to laughs. Handshakes turned to hugs, chance meetings turned to dates.

And, after months had gone by, Matt found himself holding you in his arms once more, listening to the strong beating of your heart.

“Matt,” you interrupted the quiet softly, your fingers running gently through his hair, soothing his mind.

He hummed, not bothering to lift his head from where it rested on your chest.

A beat passed, the silence warm and inviting.

And then:

“I don’t think I’ll ever remember the time we spent together and the life we had,” you admitted gently, smiling softly. “But, I think I will always fall in love with you.”

In that moment, Matt felt at peace once more, surrounded by your love.

[barnabyseyelashes]

crewmate’s log

life (?) update

been writing this for a while mentally i guess. really good at just thinking things and not doing them. but an update bc i know i’ve been absent; for some of you longer than others, and i do regret and am sorry for that. i do love and care about you and think about you all even when i am gone, and i hope everyone has been holding on. 

i feel like i’m one of the maquis adrift on the voyager, and it has been a long, lonely hard travel. and unfortunately often i feel like a worse person for it. 

general c/tw for illness/covid/cancer, IPV, parental death. it is kinda long so feel free to skim/skip as needed. 

my spouse and i have very little IRL support, we have been paying over $4k usd a month on rent alone, my mom and sister are the only family i’ve spoken to since december. spouse working full time in thankfully a better job with a shorter commute but having to care full time for me & our elderly ill cat when at home. 

and this is probably the sickest i’ve ever been in my life which is saying a lot, considering ive been poisoned by toxic black mold before & have dealt with literally crippling stomach issues previous. ever since november everything has been happening. i slept basically all december, i was too tired to be awake more than 3-5 hours at a time most days. i haven’t even been able to wash my hair or proper shower since. much of december and january i was unable to walk (and i mean literally dragging myself with my arms/using my moms walker as crutches unable to walk) which was a fun new exciting development. thankfully we started to live our current place by then, as our apartment is on the second floor with awful cinder stairs. though we still haven’t moved for real and are stuck paying for it until near may. soooo really uh not jazzed to find out how we will move in the next two months when i still have days i can’t walk. especially since again we basically have no IRL support. i’m doing better at least a little, i’ve started nutrient IV therapy again which is helping even if it’s extremely difficult (and expensive). my stomach is still so fucked up that i can barely eat. it’s so clenched all the time if i have more than like 3 crackers i will have Lead Weight and 6-10 hours of pain :) thank you cannabis literally without her i would not be eating at all. even still i’m belching like a beer hall competitor for hours most days it fucking sucks. the only real progress tho has been that at least i’ve been having a lot fewer panic attacks and less general anxiety now that we are living in our new spot which i’m very grateful for. kinda surprising bc usually if my stomach hurts i have anxiety and often panic so that at least has been a relief. the rest of my brain has been fucking trash garbage tho, nonverbal or partially verbal mostly. multiple meltdowns a week when b4 it was a biannual occurrence. no brain power, lots of autistic rage & ideation. just awful to be & inflict on everyone else. i am sorry for that. it is largely why i shut down at times. i simply fucking have to. 

obviously i’ve been too sick to really do anything but spouse and i are deep in our pokémon hole and it’s keeping us good company. lol despite the graphics scvi are pretty good games. writing? character development? in MY pokémon main series game? more likely than you think.. 

still it’s so bittersweet to be saying sayonara to satoshi shounen, ah ah ahhh i’m gonna cry so hard (already have). but i think the new series will be good. it will just be different. 

also i was blessed bc in the first 30 min of playing i caught a shiny mareep, one of my top 6 fave lines and one of my fave shinies. i only caught 1 in pogo and so i was so jazzed. she’s carried us 💖 my beloved deanna (like dddk, not tng) 

one of the things that’s also been good is our new living situation, even if its annoying and complicated sometimes to share with other people, i’m glad we are living with my literal oldest friend and the only person from high school i still talk to lol. we have a cottage, bigger than our old one, and even tho it doesn’t have a bathroom, the insulation & windows are shit, it’s been good. & it is under 2k a month, we got a small room in the main house now too so spouse has an office & we have some extra storage. but the best is having space to make a large, productive garden, and my friends 3 ducks and 3 chickens. skip the next part if you don’t wanna see my essay about them LMAO.  

and omg gay people, i’ll never not be raising poultry now. bird flu in domestic flock was finally detected in our county this winter, which makes me sweat a bit but fingers crossed we will be ok. my friends ex (who lived here b4 us) did most of the bird care. since i’ve been here tho it’s basically all been me, and of my choice. tricky when i have been sick but truthfully they take about 20 min a day of daily care, and maybe an hour a week of general maitenence. in early autumn when we got here, it was so easy to be outside for hours with them.. no one had ever been able to pet them before. my friend wasn’t even trusted enough to see the duckies swim in their pool while she was in the yard! nowadays the two nonskittish ducks are happy to pop in there even if i’m in the splash zone 🤣 i’m awful i do love the ducks best because they are sweet, simple creatures who know what’s good in life (treats, bodies of water, naps, frequent loud gay sex) while the chickens are a bit mean 😭 i still haven’t resolved the pecking order issues (the lowest chicken, emma [cream legbar], always beats up on the nervous duck, lydia [ancona]) but hopefully in summer i’ll be able to help shift that. kitty (brown khaki campbell) & jane (silver welsh harlequin) are very well trained to “cmere” and eat readily (jane, too readily..) from my hand. the dominant chickens, boss lady/lizzie (black ameraucana supposably) & eleanor (grey lace silverruds blå) will do the same but they aren’t quite as good at the recall lol. i’ve been reading on raising them all, working on gentling them, and enriching their lives.. i love it. they have really helped me, especially kitty. she is very special. she is the smallest but she lays the hugest fucking eggs, and since mid autum it’s been DAILY. like lord girl you gotta stop and moult eventually your feathers are so tatty. spouse has breakfast every day now though. i’m allergic to eggs so 😂 oh well. they’re great fun to raise regardless. (i’ve even recently gotten skittish lydia to eat worms from my hand, so i’ve officially touched them all!!) 

anyway i could talk about my beloved birds for fuckin ever obviously lol but i also wanna write about my family a bit too, bc so much has happened. tw covid , IPV , cancer 

i may have had covid in summer/early fall but my mom and sis got it for real, both of them in december/january. i don’t remember which. my mom got hers likely from the hospital cuz her ONCOLOGIST told her to get her mri there instead of the specialty mri clinic :) which is nice. my mom has lymphoma as well as several autoimmune diseases and pretty severe mental illness. she has been sick in and off since. she is sick rn & i am missing this weeks IV because of that. so shout out to california removing mask requirements in healthcare settings as of april 🤮👍 

my sister got hers from her shitty ex bf. that man supported her while she dealt with numerous health issues and surgeries in.. 2020..1? 21 i think. idk. maybe both. he supported her thru the hell that the last year was. up until last month when he fucking attacked her over a disagreement about a LITTER BOX. literally grabbed her , held her, and dumped dirty cat litter box over her head then destroyed the box with a huge chefs knife. bc that’s a really normal response. my sister had to call the cops. she’s gonna get a restraining order against him and his fucked up parents. but now she’s out she’s realized he had been abusing her verbally & emotionally like their whole relationship. 💔 i’m just so glad she fucking survived and he didn’t do worse, good god. she has been staying in our apartment most of the winter bc covid and now until she can get her own place so even tho we are hemmoraghing money on that shithole, at least it’s useful.. bc lol my moms husband literally told my sister “well in your bfs defense, any guy would react like that to a woman behaving like that” LIKE UM? NO?!??!? so she isn’t comfortable being there. spouse and i never felt safe around that man and it is a large reason we moved from my cottage at my moms to my dads place to begin with. so at least we have officially broken off any relationship to that trash man which is great but my mom won’t leave him so i have to just make my peace that disease will take her if he doesn’t someday. fun stuff. 

tw parental death

also cool and fun things happening lately is that this saturday it will have been a year since my fathers physical form drew breath. to say this last 15 or so months have sucked shit is the biggest understatement ever. my aunt currently has like two days to settle his estate; yes she still has a large proportion of my sister & my inheritance. no i haven’t seen or spoken to her since my grandpas funeral in september but i’m the “child of her heart” like ok. & my da had a reverse mortgage on our home of 20 years, and they forced us to sell it within a few months instead of the 12 legally we were allowed. that move was absolute hell. and i had to spend 8k on movers just for some of them to 1% ass it; they literally broke multiple peices of my dads ceramic artworks bc i tried and tried to get people to help me pack them but no one but my mom did. she couldn’t manage them all. it’s hard to forgive myself. it’s so fucking enourmous to bear the weight of knowing i have to be the one who cares for and maintaines his body of work, at least the bulk of it. god that fucker i’m still mad he gave away my favourite bowl to a goddamn woman he met at the pool LMFAO classic mike manoeuvre. one of his brothers took the fish vase i wanted too.. and the vase that matches the one he was throwing when my moms water broke with me. if it was steve i forgive you because my uncle steve also is dying of bladder cancer rn (da had multiple myeloma, diagnosed 2016) and i feel shit for not speaking with him for months but. illness. larry you’re on thin ice, hugh if it was you i’ll kill you myself 🔪  same for you mary especially cuz u actually knew i wanted that shit. 

dads bday was literally in january but did any one of those bitches text me? no. did any of his friends text me? no. tbf i can barely respond to texts but like still.. i feel bad i haven’t seen or called my grandma but also. illness! been nonverbal most days! so like 🥲 everyone else has their grief too i get it but lol to have everyone say “we will be there for you” and for literally no one to be seen its very hurtful. at least one of his friends text me to check in on me and my sister yday. but it really truly feels like no one gives a shit. and with my moms lack of health i’m having to prepare to be an orphan within 5 years.  

my sister bought a star for him months ago in some registry. i didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was near meaningless, these registries aren’t anything, no one can own these things. but on clear nights i still look off the leading edge of the plow into whatever near nothingness that faint light is coming from, adrift in emptiness. 

———

anyways that’s pretty much all from me. (is it enough LOL. happy saturn return with saturn in sideral aquarius. in my 1H too 😩) as i get better i will be getting back slowly into discord and shit, i’ve literally just been too exhausted and unable to function. some of yiz have known abt some of this, but mostly my main acct tweeps & tumblr muts haven’t, so i just figured i would write this, and maybe it would help me in some way. hopefully i’ll be back on tumblr soon too, i literally just can’t use it with our internet (and lack of) here lmfao. i’ll slowly be getting this out to my e-circles as i have energy in the next days. 

sending love to you all in pawsitivity discord; yuri horse club, gabriel, kurt & folks from tumblr; and all the rest of yiz. (i don’t mean to forget or omit anyone, honest). i hate that illness & shit has kept me from you. the last year has taught me well to value the time we have and it is not guaranteed. i love you all, i miss you, and i am wishing you well. i am hoping to reconnect soon. beannachtaí 💚💙💜 

[auxiliarydetective]

Love and War, Chapter 9

Foxholes

i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii. | xiii.

AO3

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When people talked about the worst times of the war, lots of times, the name that was called was Bastogne. How the soldiers had spent weeks in their foxholes with little supplies, little gear, little movement. Maybe, if Anita had been a soldier, she would have agreed. But she wasn’t. Yes, she had lost her squad at Bastogne. She had lost one of her best friends. But Bastogne had only been there to prepare her for what was to come at Foy. First Tessa, then Hoobler… and then Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye. While Tessa’s lifeless body had kept Anita awake for a night, the images from that day haunted her even in her sleep. But it wasn’t the last time her heart would shatter.

It had been a fairly mild evening for the Ardennes winter and a calm one at that, so calm that, after dinner, Anita hadn’t had to immediately crawl back into a foxhole. Instead, she was chatting with Muck, Penkala, Luz and Don between the trees. Luz, his usual jester self, was entertaining the group and looking joyous as ever while doing it. This time, he had a story to tell about Lieutenant Dike during one of the last shellings.

“It’s unbelievable," he said. “You might not believe it. So: You-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He’s got no helmet, no gear, no nothin’.” Then, he once again started one of his imitations. His impression of Dike was spot-on. “Uh, First Sergeant Lipton, you organize things here and I’m gonna go for… help.”

Anita grinned widely. Poor Foxhole Norman. In over his head. She felt a little bad laughing about him. But laughing was the best thing to do right now. Why not relish every last bit of joy they got?

“I need to polish my oak leaf clusters.”

“Hey, Luz," Lipton called.

He had approached the group from behind the trees. Maybe there was something important to discuss. Or maybe this was just the sign for their little group to disperse. So, everyone said goodbye for the night and headed off in different directions. Luz and Lipton in one, Muck and Penkala in another and Don and Anita in a third.

“What a lovely night," Don said, taking Anita’s hand as they walked. “Even lovelier to spend it with a beautiful lady like you.”

“What a charmer," Anita chuckled. “You’re right, it really is lovely. You can see the stars. Look, I think that’s Orion.”

“Yeah. And look, there, the big dipper.”

“It’s almost funny. Thousands of miles from home and the stars are still the same.”

They paused for a while, looking up at the skies above.

“Hey, Annie," Don said slowly, “once this is all over, how would you like to visit Oregon?”

“You mean come home with you?”

“Yeah, I, uh," Don stammered, “I didn’t wanna say it like that, but yeah.”

“Why shouldn’t you say it?” Anita questioned squeezing his hand.

Don froze for a second. He looked flustered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, though maybe they were just red from the cold. Anita loved seeing him like this. It was adorable. He was just like the day she had first met him, with those kind, lively eyes. “Well, because… you know, it sounds almost like a proposal and, uh, we’re not even together yet.”

“Well, would you like to be?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Donald Malarkey, would you like to be my boyfriend?”

Don beamed, a sparkle in his eyes that travelled over to Anita, making her feel all warm and fuzzy. What had she done to deserve him?

“Yeah!” Don grinned. “Absolutely, yeah!”

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for a while now," Anita remarked cheekily. “Figured I might as well take matters into my own hands.”

That made it sound like she had been planning to ask him for a long time. But really, this had been an impulse decision. If there was one thing Anita had learned out in the Ardennes, it was to think less. To trust her instincts. She knew, deep down, had known for a while now, that Don was the one for her. Between shattered trees, Don took both her hands and pulled her into a kiss, a kiss sweet as sugar.

A loud bang stopped the moment abruptly. Immediately, Don yanked Anita forward, running through the snow. Another barrage. Why did it always happen at the worst time? Then again, there was never a good time. They found an empty foxhole and hurled themselves into it, bodies pressed against each other as the world around them was shaken by artillery shells. It was almost like this was the worst one yet. Blazes of light flickered in the night, so bad that they had to close their eyes to not go insane. When the barrage finally stopped, they stayed curled up together, feeling each other’s breathing, listening to each other’s heartbeat. Only very slowly, they moved apart again.

A figure moved closer through the trees. Only when it had gotten within a few feet did Anita recognize who it was: It was Lipton.

“Hey," he said somberly, squatting down next to the foxhole. “Malark?”

“Hey, Lip," Don replied, the hint of a smile on his lips. “That was a doozy, huh? Seems like the Germans are angry today.”

“Yeah… Listen… Muck and Penkala got hit. They didn’t make it.”

Anita’s eyes widened. Immediately, she looked over at Don. All the life had faded out of his eyes. It was like you could see the shattered pieces of his heart through them.

“Do you want to see their foxhole?”

Don nodded jerkily. He scrambled up from the ground like a rusty marionette. That was really the best way to put it, despite the fact that marionettes, being made of wood, couldn’t rust. But just like that, Anita had never thought she would see Don like this. Quickly, she got up and followed him and Lipton. She caught up with them and took Don’s hand, rubbing her thumb across his skin. He looked at her, though only through the corner of his eye, and without feeling.

When they reached the foxhole, it was barely recognizable as one anymore. Just a hole of dirt where the shell had hit. But what was even harder to imagine was that there had been humans in there. There was nothing left of them. Only a piece of Skip’s rosary that Don would carry with him for the rest of the war, the rest of his life even.

After that, Don wasn’t the same anymore. He wouldn't eat, hardly move, just sit around in silence staring at the rosary. Anita would sit with him, hoping it would give him some sort of comfort. As they sat there, together, Don would pull her close as if trying to convince himself she was still there, alive, real.

“Hey, Annie," Don spoke into the silence, rosary in one hand, the other wrapped around Anita’s waist.

“Yes?” Anita replied, looking at him with a spark of hope in her eyes.

“You’ve got to promise me that you won’t die. Alright?”

“I promise," Anita said. She had no control over it. Both of them knew. But she wanted to give him a sense of security. At least a little bit.

“Stay away from anything dangerous. Don’t go wandering around in the woods, stay in a foxhole if you can, just… Please, don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.” Not if I can avoid it.

“And… if you can… stay with me, okay? I like to know you’re here. I, uh, I need you here.”

“Of course.”

It was easier said than done. How was Anita supposed to keep those promises? There was no safe place for her to be. If anything, it might be further back, where she always went to cook food for the men. Or maybe with Captain Winters, back at Battalion CP. Well, there was also the aid station, but she was no nurse. This time, she hoped, the aid station would stay intact. It was in an open field, not in a city, made of tents, not in a building. The large red cross on its roof made it identifiable from the air. Hopefully, the Germans weren’t barbaric enough to have it bombed. Anita still made herself believe that the aid station being hit during the bombing of Bastogne had been a mistake. The Germans hadn’t known that that church had been an aid station. Deep down, Anita couldn’t shake off giving humanity to the Germans. There were people like Liebgott who saw them as nothing but barbarians and monsters and frankly, she found herself sometimes thinking that too. But they had to still be human, right? Lots of those soldiers had to be drafted, had to not want to be there. She was strengthened in that belief by the story Don had told of the German soldier he had met shortly after D-Day. Not all of those people down there in Foy, in the tanks, firing their guns could be monsters.

Later that day, Easy was back to its old position and Don and Anita sat in a foxhole, staring out at Foy beyond the trees. One day, Easy would have to run into that town and take it. Anita dreaded that day. She knew a lot less about combat than the soldiers did, but enough that, with Lieutenant Dike leading the attack, it could end badly. That was when First Sergeant Lipton approached them. Anita was already expecting him to announce the attack on Foy. But he didn’t.

“Hey, Malark," he said. “Hey, uh, didn’t I hear you say you wanted to bring home a luger for your kid brother?”

Don looked up at him with widened eyes, just a little life returning to them.

“Yeah…”

Lipton reached into one of the pockets of his jacket.

“Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you give him that?”

So that was what a luger looked like. Anita had seen pictures but never the real thing. An angled grip with a circular trigger guard, a rather boxy barrel and a long, thin muzzle. A weapon just like this had killed Donald Hoobler and now, it was in Don’s hands.

“It’s Hoob’s, right?” Don asked. It seemed he had had the same train of thought.

“Yeah," Lipton said. “I… I was gonna get rid of it, but… I don’t know. … Listen," he continued, changing the subject. “Captain Winters was wondering if you wanted to go back to Battalion and work as his runner for a few days.”

Get off the line, a change of pace, motion, different scenery. Maybe it would take his mind off things. But Don shook his head.

“Tell him thanks," he said. “Imma stay here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he gazed at Anita. She was halfway expecting him to suggest her instead, to get her to the closest thing to safety. But he didn’t. After all, he still knew Anita’s wishes to be at the frontline and he still respected them, despite the danger, despite how much he worried.

“Well, look, why don’t you at least come back for an hour or so?” Lipton suggested. “Say goodbye to Buck. I’m sure it’ll mean a lot to him.”

“Alright," Don agreed. His eyes had gone back to the luger. It had an eerie fascination on him, Anita thought.

“You be careful with that," Lipton told him. Then he left.

For a while, Don and Anita sat in silence. Anita watched Don admire the luger, turn it in his hands, inspect it from all sides, sometimes hold it up in front of him as if to fire. With each and every second he held it, Anita’s anxiety grew.

“Hey, Don," she finally said, “could you do me a favour?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Don replied, finally looking up from the gun.

“Could you take out the magazine and give me the bullets? They’d be safe with me, they’d be the only bullets I have. No chance of me accidentally using or losing them.”

“You don’t trust it. You think it’ll go off.”

“Can you blame me? It’s happened before, I don’t want it to happen again. I want to at least know that, if it does go off, there’s no way you can get hurt.”

“Alright.”

So, Don took out the magazine. Six bullets. It looked like the magazine could hold eight. At least one other had killed Hoobler. As Anita held the bullets in her hand, she felt a sort of security. Now, it was made sure that another couldn’t hurt Don. At least in that regard, he was safe. She put the bullets into a small pouch within her bag, one that was usually meant to hold items like keys or coins in more domestic environments.

“Well, I’d better go say goodbye to Buck," Don said and got up.

Anita nodded. “Give him my best wishes.”

Despite the world-shaking incident that was the death of Muck and Penkala, the war continued. War didn’t care about personal losses, saw soldiers only for their manpower. But the soldiers themselves cared. Anita cared. She felt her shattered heart ache every time she saw Don sitting there with the rosary, every time he relapsed to that empty stare the death of his friends had taught him. Only a few days later, the dreaded attack on Foy came knocking on Easy Company’s door. Well, surely the men didn’t dread it, but Anita did. Or maybe they did, too. From the moment the attack was announced, Anita noticed changes in the men’s behaviour. They were tense. Very quickly, she found out why: None of them wanted to follow Lieutenant Dike into battle. Nonetheless, they would have to.

From the moment the men started taking their positions, Anita felt like an electrical current was running through her. Don took her hand and kissed her forehead. Both of them knew exactly why, though neither of them wanted to name it. For a while, Anita stayed behind at the tent where she made the meals, leaning against a tree. She felt cold. Cold, not only physically, but emotionally. It felt like shivers ran across her heart. Meanwhile, her mind felt like a carousel. When she heard machine guns in the distance, she knew it had begun. She tried to keep herself as calm as possible, told herself that the men would do their job and do it well, like they always had, but her mind was stuck beyond the trees, out on the battlefield. After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore. She got out of the foxhole and started walking towards the gunfire. Of course, she wasn’t going to go into battle. She had promised Don she would stay out of trouble. But god damn it, she needed to see it. It was like back at Aldbourne, only worse, because she was so tantalizingly close but completely powerless. The least she could do was get a look at what was going on.

At the edge of the forest, soldiers knelt in the snow. Another company, waiting, in reserve. In front of them, Captain Winters, Captain Nixon and Colonel Sink stood, overlooking the situation. For a few moments, Anita stood at the back, staring out at Foy in the distance. But what was that? Nobody was moving. Behind some hut-shaped hay bales covered in snow, soldiers that had to belong to Easy were huddled together like sardines. It was then that Anita got the feeling that something was going horribly wrong. Without thinking, she walked forward. She came to a halt next to Nixon who held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. When he put them down, he spotted her through the corner of his eye. For a moment he was perplexed, but then he sighed.

“Worried?” he asked quietly.

“Yes," Anita whispered. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“You better get Dike on that radio to me now," Winters barked into a radio.

Anita had never seen him like this. He was completely tense and seemingly furious.

“Dike must’ve told the men to fall back against Dick’s orders," Nixon continued. “They were supposed to go in before the Germans could get their mortars and artillery ready but now, they’re sitting ducks.”

“My god," Anita murmured.

She felt Colonel Sink eyeing her, but her gaze was fixated on the men in the distance, her ears ringing with gunfire.

“Get going forward!” Winters yelled.

A runner had gotten from the hay bales to a building with another group of soldiers. Another had gotten shot down. Now, some movement got into the group behind the house. Three of them broke off from the group and started running for some cover further into the city but one of them immediately got shot. Machine gun fire flared up in the clocktower of the town’s church. Whenever someone tried to move, they only got two steps forward before dying or having to take cover again.

“You have to keep moving!” Winters shouted desperately. His heart carrying him, he ran forward towards the edge of the woods, towards the battlefield.

“Dick!” Nixon called and followed him. “Dick!”

“Captain Winters!” Colonel Sink yelled. “God dammit, you do not go out there! You’re the battalion commander, now get back here!”

Anita felt like she was about to explode from all the scurrying under her skin. She knew next to nothing about battles, but the yells of Captain Winters, the gunfire and the images before her made her feel like she was among those men, sitting ducks, waiting to get killed. She desperately hoped that none of her friends were among the men already dead in the snow.

Silently cursing himself, Winters turned around. Anita could see the conflict in his eyes, his feelings shaking him.

“I understand your attachment to Easy Company," Sink said, “but- “

“SPEIRS!” Winters shouted over his superior officer. “Get yourself over here!”

Speirs, the CO of D Company, dutifully came running. He was a legend. Even Anita had heard of him.

“Get out there and relieve Dike and take that attack on end.”

Speirs followed these orders without a word. Anita watched him reach the men behind the hay bales, attaching her last bits of hope to him. If Captain Winters couldn’t go out there and do it, he would have to lead Easy to victory or at least to safety. If anyone could, it was him. Despite the horrifying stories that had been told about him, there were also ones of heroism, of leadership quality, and those were the ones that Anita clung to now. Finally, movement came into the group. She could spot the men preparing to fire mortars. The shell hit a building in the city. As soon as the explosion flared up, Easy started running. Anita’s heart jumped, she felt like she was among them, felt with them on every step. But one man stayed behind, right where everyone had been huddled. A single man sat in the snow, motionless.

“Is that-?” Anita whispered.

“Dike," Nixon confirmed, binoculars to his eyes.

“Reed," Winters said sharply. The anger in his eyes made a shiver run down Anita’s spine. His eyes weren’t kind anymore, they were harsh and menacing. He would tell her off, wouldn’t he? “Go over there and get Dike to me now.”

“Yes, sir," Anita said, trying to hide how perplexed she was.

As she started running, she couldn’t help but think of her promise to Don. But what use was it? An order was an order. Deep down, she felt proud to receive one like this. “Stay away from combat situations," they had told her, and now here she was. Essentially a runner. Inside her, she felt the same contempt for Dike the men had to have. His foolishness had cost many lives and would surely have ended in disaster had it not been for Winters sending Speirs.

When she reached Dike, his eyes were opened wide, staring. Scarlet red tinted one of his sleeves. That was when Anita realized what had happened: He was shellshocked. Now, she almost felt bad.

“Lieutenant Dike," she said, kneeling down in front of him. But he didn’t look at her. “ Sir! …  Norman!”

Finally, their eyes met.

“You need to come back to Captain Winters with me.”

He said nothing, just sat there and stared. Then, he nodded jerkily.

“Alright. Can you get up? Can you stand?”

Slowly, like he was rusted, Dike started moving, scrambling about. She held her hands out to him. After a few seconds, he took them and let himself be pulled up. He swayed a little as he stood, relying on Anita for support.

“Take your time. We’re behind cover, we’re safe. Take a deep breath, in and out. There we go. In… and out. Very good. Are you feeling a little better?”

Dike nodded.

“Can you run?”

He nodded again.

“Good. On three. Ready? One… two… three!”

Then, she took off sprinting, pulling Dike along with her. He had some difficulties, stumbling, but he followed. Finally, they reached the trees. Anita delivered Dike safely to Captain Winters. Winters could barely keep himself contained before yelling:

“What was that, Lieutenant?! I told you explicitly to get in there fast! What the hell were you thinking?!”

To this, Dike stayed silent. Anita returned to Nixon’s side, overlooking the battle. From here, everyone was faceless. All the soldiers together were one unit. Without a word, Nixon offered Anita his binoculars. She took them, the faceless soldiers turning into individuals. She could see Perconte being treated by a medic, Bull not far away from him, Liebgott behind a large cart, Luz with his radio next to Lipton and Don on the opposite side of the road. But who captivated her the most was Speirs, running through the enemies all by himself. Seeing him like this, his courage, his determination, Anita was sure: With him leading Easy, things would be okay.

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

Mistakes were made, and the girls have to clean up as per usual.

Jak stared up at the ceiling from the floor where he’d essentially passed out last night. Draped over the edge of the couch laid Torn, still completely out of it, with a bottle of the hardest liquor they could find just inches from his fingers. Daxter, likewise, snored away on the arm of the couch itself, leaving Jak to his thoughts alone. He’d known some of Torn’s past—it didn’t take much to get on the man’s radar in the Underground, and Jak could admit that for all his abrasiveness Torn looked out for everyone. He’d known that for a long time now.

Silently Jak admitted that knowing and understanding meant two different things, and here Jak was, now awake in the aftermath of accepting Torn’s brand of comfort. Vices, Jak thought bitterly. He knew Tess would have his head for agreeing to the drink; Jak didn’t have a problem with alcohol. It never quite burned right for him anyway with the amount dark eco in his system—much like how Slipstream didn’t work in the conventional sense. Jak scrubbed his hands down his face tiredly, and rolled over to his feet. He glanced to Torn, and then shuffled off to find some water to shove into the man’s face alongside some sort of painkiller for the headache.

On the table sat the communicator, and Jak snagged that when he walked passed to grab the glass of water. He quickly thumbed up Tess’ contact; whatever hour of the day didn’t matter, Tess at least deserved to know the state Torn was in. Jak could remember the little petite blonde storming into the Underground HQ whenever Torn called because of a craving, or someone else called because Torn reached for one of his many vices.

Jak wished he understood instead of just knew what it all meant back then. He sighed bitterly and shuffled back over toward the couch. He owed Torn at least to make sure he knew how to handle the man, or to at least get Tess here to handle him if needed.

“Daxy-poo?”

“Sorry, he’s out,” Jak mumbled and set the glass of water down on the table in front of the couch. He shuffled off to grab a second glass for Daxter. “Dax ‘n’ Torn ‘n’ I had a…night.”

Tess was silent for a moment, then she sighed.

“You got some water there? Any painkillers? How much did he drink?” Tess asked rapidly.

Jak grimaced. “Dunno, actually. Kind of got a bit hazy.” He could hear Tess’ groaned response.

“So he got the good stuff then. Shit.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Jak mumbled, turned on the tap, and waited. Tess sighed tiredly; Jak could hear her shuffle about on the other end. It sounded like she intended to make something to drink.

“Sweetheart it’s not your fault,” Tess cooed, and when Jak moved to protest she stopped him. “Ah, ah, I know what you are going to say. Honestly whatever was said, whatever happened, I know it wasn’t your fault. Torn’s been pushing himself.”

“Because of me,” Jak pointed out, turned off the tap, and picked up the glass.

“Nuh uh. You’ve been pushing yourself too, Jak. Don’t think Daxy and I haven’t noticed. We still talk, y’know, even if you aren’t by all that often because the old fogey’s wanna keep it all hush hush.”

Jak snorted and set the second glass down. He reached out to check Daxter and Torn’s breathing carefully and then settled himself into an armchair.

“If anyone’s at fault it’s the old man and the rest of the council. I’ve seen how it’s been hurting Aylín too, you know?” A faint beeping came from the other end of the line and Jak could imagine Tess shift around in the little kitchenette above the Ottsel. “Anyway here’s what you are gonna do, you hear me Jak?”

“Mm, yeah?” Jak asked and shifted in his seat.

“You and Torn, and Daxy, are going to take the day. Walk around town, work if you have to, but stay away from any more of his vices—or yours.” Jak grimaced. “Whatever it is, you take the day for yourselves. Shove Torn off at Praxis if you need to get him relax, I don’t care what it is. Just…do something small. Nothing big like you guys are all prone to. Please?”

Jak sighed and placed his head between his knees with a mumbled, “Sure, Tess.”

“Good. I’ll grab Alyín and Keira and we’ll do a sweep, clear out anything.”

“I’ll make sure you have clearance to come up.”

“You better,” Tess teased. “Send me a message when they wake up.”

“Kay.”

“And Jak?”

Jak hummed lightly and leaned back into the chair.

“I mean it. Don’t go near any of your vices either. Shit’s tough, and life right now is hard, but it’s better—so trust me when I say it’s not worth it to take that trip again.”

Jak sighed. “I know, Tess. I won’t.”

Tess chirped out a sharp, “Good!” and hung up without a further word. Jak dropped the communicator onto the table and stared over Daxter and Torn with a sigh. Vices, he thought bitterly. A nice and polite word for addiction. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and listened to the loud snoring of Daxter, and the subtler snoring from Torn. Jak could remember clearly the day Torn first discovered his vices. His hand shook slightly and he clenched it into a fist.

“Fuck this is such a mess,” Jak mumbled. He shouldn’t have agreed to the drinking. Daxter already had plenty enough issues with alcoholism, not to mention Torn’s own struggles with it. Plus the whole conversation brought up far too many memories for Jak to care to have rattling around in his head. He leaned back into the chair with a groan and barely noticed when Torn started to cough.

Without a word Jak got to his feet and helped the older man up; he tugged the respirator over to get Torn more oxygen into his system while the man woke himself up from the fit. Torn groaned pitifully and grabbed at his head, and then at the mask, and peered up at Jak through squinted eyes.

“We…drank a lot,” Jak mumbled, grabbed the glass and the pills and handed them over. “Called Tess.”

“Great.”

“No drinks, no drugs, no machismo,” Jak said dryly. “She’d prefer no work, but then….” Torn coughed into the glass while he swallowed down the pills.

Daxter woke up next, moaning and groaning until Jak handed him a glass of water and pills which he curled around rather pathetically. Jak shook his head and settled down next to Torn on the couch. The older man had his head between his knees, mumbling curses under his breath.

“How bad?” Torn croaked out.

Jak rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t remember.”

“Mar,” Torn hissed and leaned back into the couch. “What we were talking about?”

“Shitty backstories,” Daxter whined. “’m’thinkin’ s’at?”

Jak shrugged. “I know we got into it because of Erol.”

Torn groaned shifted his hand from the respirator to cover his eyes. “That’d do it, yeah.” He could remember how the mess started now; talk about Erol and how fucked over they all were because of the bastard. Torn couldn’t remember if how far into his own dealings with Erol he’d gotten—given the amount they all drank though he very well could’ve touched deeper regrets than he’d want and probably didn’t remember.

“Now what then?” Torn mumbled while Jak picked up the communicator. He sent off a brief message to Tess to let her know everyone woke up and, aside from hangovers, appeared to be rather functional.

“Tess ‘n the girls will be by to clear things out,” Jak mumbled.

“Fuck,” Torn hissed between his teeth. One moment of weakness and suddenly once more he needed to face the disappointed gaze of the woman he basically saw as a little sister. Jak leaned back and stared up at the ceiling tiredly.

“An’ whaddya suggest we do?” Daxter bemoaned lightly, instantly regretting the loss of all the wonderful alcohol in the building—but he knew better than to whine about it right now, especially since it’d be Tess coming to clear things out and she’d give him one mean look if she found out he’d whined.

“Dunno. Something productive?” Jak scrubbed his hand over his face again. “Refugee’s will be coming in soon, right?”

Torn blinked, then grimaced. He hadn’t actually checked in on the status of the reclamation project in the past couple of days—like everyone else he’d been focused on what to do when the refugee’s arrived and completely forgot about the fact that they’d already sent troops out to clear the streets. Sure he’d looked at the basic figures they sent back—what areas were the most heavily infested and the ratio of risk versus reward, how many potential survivors they could expect, the amount of dark eco poisoning—but beyond that he set everything aside to review once they knew what they were doing.

With a mild grunt of hungover pain Torn got to his feet and shuffled over to the computer system that sat on a desk off to the side of the lounge in Jak’s rooms. He pulled up the reports that were filed in the system and quickly skimmed through them to try and get a read on how far along things were so far.

“They’ve cleared about three streets into the Industrial District,” Torn said thoughtfully. “Recovered roughly twenty survivors in good condition, another thirty more in poorer condition….”

“Precursors,” Daxter mumbled.

“Lost about twenty men,” Torn continued, brow furrowed. “They’ve piled up bodies of the remaining civilians that didn’t survive for sterilization transport. We’ve got barricades set up at the entrance from the port in the Waterfront, all the way to the first main intersection.”

Torn scanned the rest of the reports that he could quickly, and pulled back with a sigh. He rubbed at his eyes. “The amount of debris and dark eco levels are making progress slow overall.”

Jak breathed out a measured breath. “Alright. We have the pits prepared for cleansing, so let’s start cleaning up the streets of the debris we can. Get the hospitals moving to check the survivors in the safe zones and then settle them where and as needed. The more space we clear up on the streets in the Industrial District the quicker we can move things along.”

“Just like that?” Torn shifted and looked to Jak. “We haven’t even talked with the hospitals and the doctors, we’ve got barely any volunteers to help out refugees and survivors. Jak we can’t just move up operations so quickly.”

“Arguing about logistics is getting us nowhere.”

“The House’s have their own areas of management and expertise,” Torn said exasperatedly. “Their help is invaluable, and it’s how the government works.”

Daxter snorted and climbed up onto Jak’s shoulder and jerked his head toward his best friend. “Ain’t he the King?” the ottsel asked. “End all be all of the government an’ all that? Word is law, bow down t’me?” Jak snorted and Torn sighed.

“That’s not how the government works,” Torn groaned. “Dammit, kid. Just because there is a Monarchy doesn’t mean we don’t have a system in place to provide checks and balances.”

Jak shook his head and glanced down at the communicator.

“Let’s go,” Jak said after a second. “Tess is on her way with Alyín and Keira.”

“Kid—Jak—” Torn started as he stepped away from the computer, but Jak ignored him and headed for the door. “Jak I’m serious—”

“Run with it Tattoed Wonder,” Daxter crowed. “Not changin’ our minds now.”

Exhaustedly Torn followed them. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Ashelin after this.

Alyín and Tess took the stairs up the palace two at a time, Keira trailing after them silently. They’d come in to her garage while she packed up the last of her personals and dragged her away. Alyín made some sort of phone call, proceeded to assure her she’d make sure the rest of her things got out safe, and then Tess explained the situation. It still left her reeling the fact that they needed to clean out alcohol and possible drugs. Keira couldn’t understand it, really.

Lyra, the main secretary on the first floor of the Palace, stood up the minute the three of them passed through the doors. She made a sharp nod to Alyín and to Tess and quickly moved from around her desk. She held out her hand, along with a purple and white card reminiscent of the passkey’s used to get through the gates throughout Haven.

“Here’s a passkey,” Lyra said, and handed the key over to Alyín. “I was informed of your arrival by King Jak.”

Alyín took the key with a nod and gave Lyra a small smile. “Thank you. Anything specific we should know, Lyra?”

Lyra shook her head, gave a nod to the three girls, and then stepped aside and headed back to her desk. Keira, Alyín and Tess stepped up and into the private elevator without a further word, and only when it slid completely shut did Alyín collapse in on herself. She’d been stormy earlier, and now she looked defeated. Keira glanced to her, and carefully touched her arm.

“Aly?” she asked quietly.

“What are we looking at here, Tess?” Alyín asked tiredly. “Heartburn? Sharpshooter? Liquid Grace? Static Rush? Slipstream?” The last one Alyín practically spat.

“Alcohol,” Tess said quietly.

Keira looked at Alyín, lips pressed together in thought. “Those are…those are eco drugs, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Alyín replied bitterly. “Torn’s done every single one of them.” She clenched her fists tightly. Keira breathed out explosively and looked at Tess’ stiff stance as well.

“More than that?” Keira leaned against Alyín, a form of silent support. For a moment Alyín didn’t say anything, in fact she just shook her head silently and pressed one hand up to her eyes. Kiera could see the tears there, tears that gathered and she refused to let fall. The young blue-green haired woman pushed a little firmer into Alyín.

Tess glanced to Alyín and sighed. “If this is too hard….”

Alyín shook her head and pursed her lips. “No. No, Torn swore it and I swore I’d keep him to it.” She rubbed at her eyes. “Besides, it’s in the past and if there are…if it’s just alcohol then that’s better.”

The ride up in the elevator lapsed back into silence. Keira glanced to Tess, and then up to Alyín.

“Jak…Jak got into this stuff?” Kiera questioned. Tess glanced to her and pressed her lips together.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Tess said quietly. “I don’t know if he got into it, or if he didn’t have a choice Keira. I do know he’s kept himself clean, though.” She looked up. “Daxter too.”

Keira leaned a bit more heavily into Alyín when the older girl mumbled, “Doesn’t mean they’ll stay that way.”

Keira closed her eyes.

“Then we’ll make sure they will,” she said, opened them, and stood tall. “All of us.” Alyín nodded sharply, and glanced to Tess who gave each of them a small smile.

“Alright,” she chirped. “Let’s start with searching all of Jak’s place. Alyín?”

Alyín chuckled and shook her head. She never did understand how Tess could shift from serious to chipper in seconds. “I’ll gather up all of the booze. You guys check to make sure there isn’t anything else.”

Tess nodded and squeezed Alyín’s other arm while Kiera lightly shook her with a small smile.

“Got ya,” Tess agreed. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Kiera nodded. She’d seen her fair share of Slipstream since she started working at the Stadium. A lot of the racers used it, so she had some idea on what to look for. Plus she’d had rudimentary training in eco channeling like everyone else back in Sandover, and while she held more of an inclination for Green she could at least feel the sharp difference between the others to identify them. Plan determined the girls straightened, sucked in deep breaths, and readied themselves to work.

He stretched himself through the pathways and systems, shifted metaphorical limbs as he fully pulled himself back into awareness. He slipped his consciousness into everything, breathed in ways that he didn’t fully comprehend before. His thoughts shifted and churned in ones and zeros, tugged along neural pathways before unavailable to him. He looked through lenses, computers, communication devices, security systems. He settled himself in and flexed.

Vin scanned through the streets and noted the metalheads, noted their deepest locations and pits of loathing. He shifted and scanned through the eco grid and the shield wall—through the mine and the surrounding dangers in the waters outside the metal, brick, and mortar walls that surrounded the city and provided both protection and a cage. He let himself calculate and permutate and scan through documents unfettered while he processed just what happened. How long had it been since he’d been this aware?

It took a small portion of his concentration to activate the repair systems on the turrets that Jak busted, and then to initiate the response and targeting system of the turrets still active. He set them on eliminating the metalheads within the city walls, shifted the security cameras to sweep over the pile of shivering civilians and sick, the forces of Underground and KG that were tired and exhausted. He pulled a portion of his awareness into a transport, tugged along small spider-like KG bots to pull supplies that he logged and flagged and noted down as concise as he could.

In the seconds it took to fully pull himself back to awareness Vin sent off information and details that the others missed. He called upon the silent supporters and upon like-minded individuals, profiled those who would cause problems and those who wouldn’t. He restricted information, released information, and settled himself fully into the eco grid, the neural network that made up Haven. Vin shook off the last vestiges of sleep and let himself take control. He’d spent long enough settling in. He spent long enough reorganizing his own thought matrix, shifting and expanding his consciousness and awareness—he’d had to grow used to the new state of his existence.

The lack of power in the power station certainly didn’t help move matters along at a quicker pace. Vin calculated that maybe a month passed since the invasion; a month to settle himself and pull his own consciousness out of the void of data and code into some semblance of being again. It took him long enough; it took them all long enough.

Jak needed Vin. He needed Vin’s help. It was high passed time that Vin actually took a more proactive role in the state of this city. He was Vin of House Asul, last patriarch of the Blue Sage, last of the blue saturates—last of a long line and history that dated to before the metalhead invasion. His ancestor helped create this city, helped design the eco grid—the shield wall—helped pull small villages together into a cohesive unit that survived, and then that thrived.

Jak needed Vin like Mar needed Eichel the Blue. Jak needed Vin.

It was time he stepped up to the plate.