#lately it feels like either noone logs on here anymore or maybe i the one thats off the grid? i dont know but i miss seeing u around a lot

[bbael]

hello my love <3 i know it's been a while but i hope you're doing well <3 love and miss you lots !!, pls take care, m' sending u many kisses too c: and this tiktok <3

I hate that tiktok so muchh shsndkf im still ugly laughing😭😭😭

But also HI hello emi my love, how are you?? i've been missing you like crazy.... I *am* doing well fortunately & hope u are as well hon, what are u even up to?

Thank you so much for dropping by, i love u and im kissing u as I type this, hoping you are having a great time && also taking care of yourself❤❤❤

[leigh-kelly]

A continuation of NYU!AU

Santana gets her period again and she’s absolutely miserable. She knows from living with another woman that not everyone feels incapacitated by it, but she does. This one is particularly bad and she struggles to get out of bed and go to class. Every second that she doesn’t have to be somewhere, she’s curled up in bed with a heating pad, only getting up to change her tampons or refill her water bottle.

Brittany is absolutely amazing about it. She brings Santana chocolate and ice cream and salty snacks. She snuggles Santana when she’s feeling affectionate and gives her space when she feels like she needs it. Brittany even sneaks Santana food out of the dining hall when she’s feeling too crappy to go and get it. As bad as Santana feels, having Brittany be Brittany just makes everything feel a little better.

“Cuddles or space?” Brittany asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Cuddles would be good.” Santana smiles a little and Brittany gets under the covers with her.

“Still no better?”

“No. I talked to my mom while you were eating and she thinks I really need to see the gyno about it.”

“She’s probably right, babes. This is the worst I’ve ever seen it, it you and you almost didn’t go to class this morning.”

“My cramps are just really bad. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I know, you were tossing and turning and you got up three times.”

“I’m sorry I kept you up. You have a late class tonight...” Santana purses her lips and Brittany kisses them.

“Don’t be sorry for me, you’re the one who’s not feeling great.”

“I guess I thought this was normal until I was living with you. Your periods are a breeze.”

“I mean, mine are unusually light but yeah, being stuck in bed like this is totally not normal. If you want to make a doctor’s appointment, I’ll definitely come with you so you don’t have to go alone.” Brittany promises.

“This is going to sound so dumb but my mom always finds my doctors for me. I have to talk to her about how to use the insurance website.”

“I would have no idea how to find a doctor either. I think we’re only half grown up even though it feels like we’re more sometimes.”

“I’m just glad I have you. Before we were together I’d lay in bed and try to will a chocolate bar to come to me from the other side of the room. You take really good care of me.”

“We totally take care of each other. I have to leave in a few minutes to go to class though.”

“I really have to read some of Moby Dick today.” Santana sighs. “That’s what I’ll probably do while I wait for you to come home.”

“And call your mom about finding a doctor?”

“And that.”

Brittany refills Santana’s water bottle for her before she leaves for class and she kisses her goodbye. Once she’s gone, Santana is at least glad that she doesn’t have to get out of bed to read and she rolls over, grabbing the book from the desk next to the bed. She reads for awhile before she takes some more Midol and then she calls her mom, figuring she should try to make an appointment before doctor’s offices close. She doesn’t want to go while she has her period, that feels completely mortifying, but maybe if she can get an appointment for next week it’ll be good.

”Twice in one day.” Santana can hear her mom smile through the phone. ”Brittany must be busy.”

“She’s in class. I talked to her about the gynecologist thing and she said she’ll go with me. You know I’m kinda nervous but just having her in the waiting room might make it better.”

”You’re always so nervous about the doctor, you’d think your Papi wasn’t one. But I’m glad she’ll go with you, I don’t like the sound of you when you lay in your bed and cry in pain.”

“It’s just really bad, Mami. I know it sounds like I’m being dramatic...”

”Mija, I’ve seen you suffer with it. I should have encouraged you to talk to the doctor when you had your first appointment. But now it’s effecting your life more greatly.”

“Can you help me use the insurance website to find a doctor here?”

When her mom helps her, Santana realizes how easy it actually is to look up doctors by specialization and after she hangs up with her, she calls three places until she can finally get an appointment for next Wednesday. She writes it down in her planner and goes back to her book, hoping she can at least get a chunk of it done before Brittany gets back and all she wants to do is cuddle and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine. She really isn’t a Melville fan so the reading goes slowly and she’s only about halfway done when she hears the key in the lock.

“Guess who’s the best girlfriend ever?” Brittany holds up a paper takeout bag and Santana smiles at her. “Moo shu pork and egg rolls.”

“Britt, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Obviously I wanted to. I was totally craving egg rolls anyway and I figured they’d make you feel better.”

“I love you a lot.”

“Duh.” Brittany laughs. “And I love you too.”

Brittany brings the bag over along with plates and forks and she turns on the TV so they can watch while they’re eating. When the show is over, Santana notices that Brittany is quiet and she nudges her with her elbow, wanting her to talk.

“Sorry, class was just kind of crappy tonight.”

“What happened?”

“It’s just the usual thing when I’m in a class that’s not a math class, I have trouble making sense of things. I raised my hand and said something kind of stupid and immediately knew I was wrong.”

“Britt, you’re like, an actual certifiable genius. But I’ll help you with studying if you want.”

“You have so much to do and you’re not feeling well.”

“Honey, I always have time for you. I don’t want you to feel bad about your classes.”

“I just wish things came more easily.” She sighs. “When I’m doing math, I feel really smart but everything else brings me back to high school where I was the class idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. If you put math problems in front of me, I can’t solve them to save my life, but I can analyze a book like crazy. That’s why we have majors.” Santana plays with Brittany’s fingers. “This is the last class you have to take outside of math.”

“You’re right. I know you are, I just can’t help but get bummed out.”

“C’mere.” Santana stacked the plates on the desk on her side of the bed and opened up her arms for Brittany. “You’ve taken care of me for the past three days, now it’s my turn to be the cuddle giver.”

“You’re still feeling crappy.”

“And I feel better when I’m hugging my girlfriend.”

For a long while, Santana just hugs Brittany. When she was in high school, she’d always thought that the popular girls were like Teflon, but having Brittany, she’s learned that they have a lot of feelings too. When she knows that she absolutely has to go to the bathroom, she kisses the top of Brittany’s head and wriggles out from behind her. She takes the dishes with her and washes them before she goes into the bathroom and does everything she has to do to get ready for bed. Brittany isn’t far behind, waiting outside of the bathroom when Santana comes out and Santana kisses her lips when she sees her there before reheating her heating pad and getting back into bed.

Brittany holds her from behind when she gets back into bed and rubs Santana’s lower back where she always gets really crampy. They don’t say anything else, they’re both really exhausted but they fit together in just the right way that each of them knows they have a person who loves them so deeply, who takes care of them, who cherishes them.

In the morning, Santana gets up first. Although she knows she should be doing work, she logs into Tumblr and makes a post about how much she loves her girlfriend. She knows that Brittany checks her blog and she just wants to give sort of a public shoutout to Brittany for being so extra amazing while she’s been grumbling in bed. Santana thinks she feels it more because it’s something she never imagined she’d have but Brittany is real, Brittany loves her and she wants the world—or at least her followers—to know that she loves Brittany too.

“Why you up so early?” Brittany mumbles. “It’s Friday.”

“Just making a post about how I love you extra this week. Don’t worry, I didn’t include a picture with you drooling on the pillow.”

“I do not drool.” Brittany throws the pillow at Santana. “You’re the one who drools. Last week, my shoulder was totally soaked when you took a nap on it.”

“Psht, whatever.” Santana laughs and hits post. “Your shoulder is comfortable.”

“You’re in a good mood this morning. Are you feeling better?”

“I took three Midol at like three am so they’re still kicked in. But I think I’m getting there.”

“Do you wanna have a picnic in the park today? Now that it’s warmed up, everyone is doing it and I’ve been kinda wanting to take you.”

“I’d really love that. I need to read for a couple of hours before we go though.”

“Yeah, cool.” Brittany nods, grabbing her pillow back and rolling over. “Wake me up in an hour? I have to study.”

Before Santana starts her reading for the day, she decides to take a shower. She just wants to feel freshened up and she soaks under the hot water for a long time before drying off and pulling on jeans and a t-shirt. She’s glad the bed is so big because when she sits back on it, she doesn’t disturb Brittany’s sleep. She reads for a little while and then she wakes Brittany up. Even though she’s grumbly, she gets out of bed and brushes her teeth and the two of them quietly go about their work. Santana really appreciates that, how Brittany is never a distraction, and at noon, she puts her book down.

“Artie texted me.” Brittany tells Santana. “He wanted to know if we want to meet up with everyone later to go to some concert in Brooklyn. I told him no.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Britt. I know I’m not feeling great but you can do things that I don’t want to do.”

“I’m just, like, not into that scene anymore. Everyone gets wasted and I really don’t want to come in to you drunk at two in the morning.”

“Are you sure? You used to love that.”

“I don’t think I ever loved it, I think it was just something I did because everyone else was doing it. You taught me that I don’t have to do things just because other people do, you never care.”

“I don’t.” Santana shakes her head. “But no matter what, I want you to be happy.”

“I’m really the most happy spending time with you.”

“I haven’t been great company for the past few days.”

“I still like being around you.” Brittany shrugs. “There’s only so many days before it’s summer vacation...”

“Can’t you use your math genius skills to invent a teleporter for us?”

“I wish. I’m trying to convince my parents to move next door to your mom.”

“I hate my mom’s neighbors, I would really like that.”

“You have to work at camp this summer? You can’t just spend the whole summer with me?”

“I totally wish I could.” Santana sighs. “But it would disappoint my mom. She only has, like, this summer and next summer with me before I graduate. And even my dad is looking forward to spending time with me.”

“I know, my parents are too, it just sucks.”

“I know. But hey, let’s just go to the park and enjoy the day.”

By the time they get themselves ready to go to the park, rain is hammering down outside and Brittany sighs, flopping back onto the bed. Santana feels bad that she feels so bad and she sits down by her head, running her fingers through her hair. She really is going to miss being close to Brittany every day when they leave in less than a month so even if they can’t go on a picnic in the park, she’s going to spend as much of her free time with her girlfriend as she can.

“Now I’m going to feel guilty not studying if we’re going to be stuck inside all day.” Brittany groans.

“I’m not going to. We’re supposed to be spending the afternoon together, so what if we do it here? I’ll make EZ Mac and we’ll watch a movie.”

“Nope, my picnic, I’m the one who’s going to make the EZ Mac.” She smiles. “You pick out the movie.”

“We still haven’t watched Pretty Woman, should we do that?”

“Anything you want. You want your heating pad reheated before I use the microwave?”

“Yeah, that might be good.” Santana hands it to Brittany and she brings it over to warm up. “Britt?”

“Yeah?”

“I really love you, you know.”

“I really love you too.”

[curious-fools-howl-to-the-moon]

Chapter 2 is here!! Still kind of slow, but building up! (And it’s another long one!)

She finished filling out the register information and hit log in. She had no chat requests and her inbox was empty, as to be expected from someone who just created an account. So far so good. She picked up her phone and texted Heather.

'Hey, what's your blue umbrella name?' And hit send.

She sat her phone to the side and stared at her computer screen, waiting for a text back. Minutes passed and no reply. No requests either, not even from random accounts. She sighed and picked up her phone again, "Come on Heather, the fuck?" she checked and saw no new messages before tossing her phone back down.

Finally her phone buzzed and she picked it up, it was Heather. She opened the text, 'Hey! Sorry for the late reply, was driving. Just text me your name, it'll be easier for me to find you.' Delilah sighed again to herself as she started typing out her username and hit the send button. Seconds later she got a reply. 'Smeared_Mascara??? What are you 12?? lol'

'You're lucky I even went on this stupid site to start with. Does anyone even use this anymore? I've been on here for almost ten minutes and not one message or requests, nothing.' she texted back and then instantly got a reply. So fast that Delilah was unsure if she even got her reply before she sent it. 

'Joking obviously Lemme look you up!' She tossed her phone to the side again as she waited for Heather's request.

A couple seconds passed and then a message box appeared on the screen saying [SUMMER_wHEATHER wants to chat with you! y/n?] Delilah felt a small smirk appear on her face. She hit the y button and started her message.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Seriously? Summer wheather? And you said MY username was childish.]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Mine is NOT childish! It's totally clever!! Don't ruin my fun on here already :P]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Ok, ok. Calm yourself. I'm not gonna ruin anything. Not yet anyway, lol. What are you up to?]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: I'm home now. Chilling in my Pajamas. Really wanted to get out tonight but this weather sucks ass.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Agreed. Usually I like this kind of weather, but not when I have to run home in it and it fucks my makeup up. lol]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Ugh, I hate rain. Regardless of how it treats my makeup. Just depressing. You have tomorrow off right?? You and I should go do something!] 

She smiled as her eyes read the message. She had to admit, that did sound like fun. She couldn't really remember the last time they got to hang out, it was definitely around the time Heather first moved down here.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Fuck it, that sounds fun. Let's do it, God knows I could use a break. Pam's been working me like a dog as of late. I think I might've pissed her off or something.]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Yayyyyyyy!! Awesome!! Not that she's working you hard, obviously. Anyway, it's settled then. Maybe some shopping downtown and then we'll grab a bite to eat, my treat? And we're NOT going to the bar so no worries, lmfao] 

Delilah smirked to herself as she let out a chuckle. Heather could be a bit much sometimes, but most of the time she was just trying to be a solid friend. Something that Delilah was thankful she had. At least one.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Lmfao, sounds good. Thanks girl. You wanna pick me up tomorrow? Say around noon-ish?]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Uh, yeah? You can't very well walk all the way to my house??? lmao. I'm kidding! Noon sounds great! We're definitely gonna start using this website more often. SO much quicker than texting and you actually answer these. ;P lol. See you then! Love ya!!!! <3]

Delilah chuckled again as she typed. [SMEARED_MASCARA: Lol, you're hilarious. Love ya too. <3]

The next box that appeared simply read, [SUMMER_wHEATHER has gone offline] She scoffed, "Goodnight to you too, Heather." she said to herself as she moved her cursor to the closing tab button. Her finger hovered over it when another message box appeared and her computer dinged, she glanced to it with furrowed brows.

[B_H wants to chat with you! y/n]

Her brow raised, [B_H] sounded really bland, almost boring. Why would they want to chat with someone like her? Maybe it's some old person, it wouldn't surprise her if Heather had sent her to some website that had even more elderly people than Facebook. She shrugged to herself, she wasn't exactly ready for bed anyway. A few more minutes of talking to someone who was more than likely as interesting as a brick wall might do the trick. She reached over to the coffee table and took her beer, taking a sip of it as she hit the y button.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Hey.] she sent the message and laid back a little. She was usually the first one to start conversations anyway, even in the real world, so this wasn't anything new. Almost instantly, she heard her computer ding again and the blue message box appear. She opened it.

[B_H: Hello.] They replied. She arched a brow, they replied quickly. Maybe she was the only person they were talking to? She wondered if there was a group chat option or something? She wasn't sure how this thing even worked, but just hoped it wasn't too complicated.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: What's up?]

[B_H: I'm sitting at home bored out of my mind. Thought I could talk to some like minded people on here. What about you?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Just got home from work a few hours ago. It's been a long night and I'm just thankful I don't have to go in tomorrow, lol]

[B_H: Sorry to hear that, work sucks. Care to talk about it? I've had a few bad nights of my own.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Just a shit situation. I got out of it though. You work around Bridgton?]

[B_H: I do. Retail work downtown. Right near Mona's and that shit Chinese restaurant.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Lol, never had the food there. I'll steer clear. Thanks for the heads up.]

[B_H: You work in Bridgton too?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: I do. More IN town than downtown, but the people are just as bad I'm sure. lol]

[B_H: The worst.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: So what's the B_H stand for?]

[B_H: Just initials. I'm not that creative with usernames. What about yours?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: It was just basically my reflection tonight. Lol nothing special]

[B_H: Why is it smeared?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: It was raining when I got home, pouring actually. Completely ruined my eye makeup.]

[B_H: Oh, I see.] they sent another immediately after. [B_H: Your interests says you like computers. You work with them?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: I don't work with them professionally. I use to do coding for my friend. I didn't look at your interests, you like them too? Lol] It wasn't exactly coding that she did, it was more like hacking, but that wasn't exactly something she wanted to type out in a chat box on the internet. Who knows how secure this site really was?

[B_H: I do actually, kind of a fan of anything you can take apart and put back together. Guess you could say I'm a tech guy.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Oh cool. I use to be really into it and still dabble in it from time to time, but the diner keeps me way too busy. Unfortunately, lol]

[B_H: You work at a diner?]

"Fuck." she said aloud to herself. [SMEARED_MASCARA: Yeah, lol.]

[B_H: I bet you deal with some of the worst people then.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Lol, anyone who works with people have the worst people.]

[B_H: Haha, agreed. Well, I won't hold you up, big day tomorrow right?]

Her brows furrowed as she read over the message. [SMEARED_MASCARA: What do you mean? lol]

[B_H: You said you had the day off? I just thought you'd be doing something exciting. You seem like that kind of person.]

She relaxed a bit and shook her head. [SMEARED_MASCARA: Oh right, I forgot I mentioned it. Must be more tired than I thought, lol. I hope it's exciting though and I'm glad that I seem like that kind of person.]

[B_H: You do. I'm glad we were able to talk, at least for a while.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Me too. I was a little hesitant to accept your chat to be honest, lol. I wasn't sure the kind of people that hang on this site.]

[B_H: Absolutely. Be careful of who you talk to on here. I've had my fair share of...weirdos.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: I bet, lol.]

[B_H: Well, have a good night. We should do this again soon. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to find anyone interesting on here, but I was wrong. I wanna get to know you better. You seem nice.]

She smiled to herself and started typing, [SMEARED_MASCARA: Aw, thanks lol. We will, for sure. I could use another friend. Having just one gets kind of lonely after a while lol.]

[B_H: I understand. I don't have many friends either.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Well, you seem pretty cool yourself. Kinda different from most of the people around here, but I like different. We'll add each other to our lists for later, have a nice night, B.]

[B_H: You too.]

[B_H has gone offline]

Delilah exited off the browser and closed her laptop, feeling a sense of excitement wash over her. It's been forever since she's talked with anyone that wasn't Heather. Not that she was anti-social or anything, because quite frankly she was the exact opposite. 

She loved talking with people and meeting new people, it's just everyone around here usually just ignored her. But it was strange, she hardly knew anything about this person. Their name, gender, age or even what they looked like. She didn't know any of it but for some reason she felt comfortable enough to tell them about her night as if they did know each other. Maybe it was just the complete and total anonymous of it all that made her so trusting. 

They don't know anything about her either, so there was nothing to lose. Regardless, she was glad she at least talked to someone different tonight. 

She stood from her couch, stretched her body and tossed her two beer bottles into the trash can before heading into her bedroom.

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A man sat at a desk, his head tilted and his chin propped up underneath his palm as he stared at his computer screen. The homepage of Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella was right in front of him. 

His basement was almost pitch dark aside from the bright light that shined from his desktop. There were other computers that surrounded him, with monitors of all different sizes that were covered with different icons and websites. 

Various types of drawings were clothes pinned to string that hung from his ceiling. The drawings were...strange, to say the least. A lot of black and red, some looked to be scribbled with marker while others seemed to drip like paint.

Scattered around the shelves, on tables and under desks were scrap metal pieces from old and new electronics. Things he would use to build whatever he needed whenever he needed it. His head never moved from it's tilted state as he leaned back in his computer chair, the back of it squeaked as he did. 

His piercing blue eyes were still locked on the screen in front of himself. He appeared to be in his late twenties, he was thinner with short brown hair.

This man's name was Brady Hartsfield. Unknowingly to everyone else was also the infamous Mercedes Killer who went completely off the grid two years ago immediately after his crime had taken place. The crime of course being that he drove a Mercedes through a crowd of people at a job fair, leaving hardly any survivors. His face wasn't shown and so he was never caught and still resides in Bridgton Ohio to this day, right under Bill Hodges's nose. 

Bill Hodges was a detective, the same detective that tried so hard to put him behind bars after the murders. But he failed and since then has retired from his position as a on duty detective.

"Smeared Mascara, huh?" Brady said aloud to no one, his voice the only sound that emitted from the room. "Hm." He had to admit to himself, she intrigued him. He wasn't sure why, but she did. 

He finally tore his gaze away from the computer screen and over to the clock on his wall. It showed it was a little past one in the morning. He nodded to himself, as much as he hated to do it, he had to be at work tomorrow. Which meant he had to wake up earlier and that meant going to bed at a reasonable hour. Not that sleeping was ever something he did particularly well.

He pushed himself away from his desk and stood from the chair. As he made his way over to the bed his mind stayed focused on whoever this ‘SMEARED_MASCARA' was. She mentioned she worked at a diner in town, but that didn't really narrow it down. There were tons of diners in Bridgton. 

He rested his head on his pillow and pulled his sheets over himself as he stared at the wall. She said she did coding as well, he wondered what kind and why she did it.

She could be someone he needed. Someone who could help him. And even if she couldn't help him with exactly what he needed, he figured in the long run it would be a lot better to have her on his side than against him. It looked like he would be adding the task of trying to recruit her to his already long list of things to do. 

He had to be careful, precise and cautious. First thing first, he had to figure out if what she was saying was true. Was she really that experienced with computers? Did she really know about coding and possibly even hacking? This could be a good thing. A very good thing.

But if he slipped up, even for a second, she could find out everything she did not need to know. But then again, if she did, there was always a quick answer for that.

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A car horn honked outside her house and it made her nearly jump out of her bed. A sense of dread washed over her as her eyes adjusted to the sun pouring in through her small bedroom window. She was still in the clothes she got home in last night, she didn't even get changed into pajamas.

"Oh you've gotta be shitting me..." she muttered to herself and swung her legs off the side of the bed. "I did not sleep until fucking noon..." she said in disbelief at herself. "Jesus Christ, Lilah..." she rubbed her face over with her hand just as her cellphone rang from the bedside table, making her jump again.

She grabbed it and looked to the caller ID; it was Heather. She sighed to herself and even though she was sure of what would be said, she answered it. "I know, I know." she said as she stood from the bed and walked to her kitchen. She heard Heather's cheerful morning voice speak from the phone. One of the many things Delilah was jealous of about Heather, she was definitely a morning person. Delilah on the other hand, a complete night owl.

"Hey! I'm parked out front! You coming out or what?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just...I needed to grab something." she winced at herself for not being able to come up with a better excuse than that. She knew Heather wasn't going to buy it, she was way smarter than that. She heard a scoff of disbelief from the other line.

"What do you have to-oh my God, Delilah. Are you seriously just waking up?" she asked, "You do know it's noon right?"

Delilah grabbed a cereal bar and bottled water, "Yes, I am aware it's noon." she closed her fridge with her foot and headed towards the door. She sat her phone on the counter and hit the speaker button as she started to put on her boots. "My fucking alarm didn't go off." she said with a grunt.

"Sure." her friend dragged out the word that was then followed by a laugh. "When did you finally go to sleep last night?" she asked, sounding more concerned than curious. Even though she was the same age as Delilah, Heather always was watching out for her like she was her mom. Occasionally making sure she ate right, got enough sleep and got out to have fun once in a while.

Delilah couldn't help but chuckle to herself, "I'm 27 years old Heather, I can go to bed whenever I want."

"Delilah..."

She sighed as she stood up, "Around like 2:45 or something." She looked over herself in the mirror, fixing her hair that stuck up around her head before pulling it into a ponytail. She reached into her bag and pulled out her makeup as she quickly started to apply it. 

"I just lost track of time. It's fine though, I'm literally about to walk out the door. See you in just a sec." She didn't give Heather anymore time to nag, instead she hung up her phone and stuck it in her pocket. She finished her makeup, grabbed her cereal bar and water then headed out her front door.

She closed it behind herself and could hear Heather's car engine running behind herself. She turned and jogged down the stairs towards the car, nearly tripping over her own feet. She caught herself and her breakfast she was holding but what she didn't catch was her cellphone that plummeted straight into the concrete sidewalk screen first.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed as Heather's passenger side window rolled down and she leaned towards it.

"Oh fuck was that your cell?" she asked, as if her phone were a child.

"Yeah. Exactly what kind of shit I needed this morning." Delilah muttered as she bent down and picked it up before making her way to the passenger side of Heather's car. She got in and closed the door, putting all her belongings in her lap. "Please don't be smashed..." she said as she squinted her eyes and flipped it over. 

Heather sharp intake of air told her that her fear had come true. She opened her eyes and her shoulder's dropped. The whole front screen was cracked, it started from the center and went out like a web. "Goddammit."

Heather took her phone from her hands and looked to it, "Maybe...it's not that bad off?" she said and Delilah shot her a stop bullshitting type look. She sighed, "I'm not joking, it might be fixable somehow..." she flipped it over to look at the back. "What kind of phone is this anyway?"

"An old as Hell one Pam gave me." she said as she took her phone back from her friend, "God, she is not gonna buy me a new one." she whined as she moved her thumb over the dented glass. Heather started up her car and began driving.

"Just eat your breakfast first, we'll figure out the phone thing. It won't be a big deal." she gave her a smile and Delilah didn't return the gesture. Instead she just stuffed her phone into her pocket and started to open her cereal bar.

"Why couldn't I have dropped this shit?" she held it up as she took at bite out of it. Heather laughed and shook her head as she sighed.

"Because it's us." she said and that made a small smirk appear on Delilah's lips.

"That I believe."

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

Heather got onto the main road that led into town, "So, why'd you get to bed so late last night?" she asked casually. "And I'm not buying the whole 'I lost track of time' excuse, because I'm not stupid." she added with a lighthearted laugh. Delilah nodded and scoffed.

"I know." she paused, "I had planned on going to bed right after we finished talking. But then I got another request, from someone named B_H." she shrugged and Heather raised a brow to her before looking back to the road. Delilah continued, "I accepted it and we talked for a bit. They seem pretty cool and they work in downtown Bridgton." she finished as she took another bite from her breakfast bar.

"Ooh." Heather almost sang, "Made a new friend, did we?" she smiled.

She smirked and shook her head, "This isn't high school. They said they were looking for some like-minded people to talk to, I guess I just fit that bill." she shrugged. "I don't know anything about them aside from their screen name, so I wouldn't call us friends."

"Well you have to find out more!" she said impatiently as she tapped the steering wheel with her polished nails. "I wanna know more about this guy and what he looks like!"

She scoffed, "I don't even know if it's a guy, Heather." she smiled, "For all I know they could be someone's grandma or something."

"You're screen name is smeared mascara...tell me an old grandma who would wanna talk with someone with that name." she let her words sit in the air for a moment, a sly smile appeared on her face. "I do know that a lot of guys would want to though. They probably think it sounds mysterious...sexy." she growled and Delilah nearly choked on her water.

"Heather, please." she said in between coughs, "I'm trying to eat my breakfast here."

She laughed and grinned, a pearly white smile. "It's alright to be excited about a new friend you know...or maybe something more?" she winked to her.

Delilah swallowed the last bite of her cereal bar and shook her head, "Alright, no more talking. You just drive now before I throw myself out of this moving car." Heather laughed again but her friend's words echoed in her ears. She started to wonder who exactly B_H was, and what they were doing talking to someone like her.

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[lithuanias]

Na Żywo

Title: Na Żywo  Pairing: Lithuania/Poland Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Temporary character deaths, blood, homophobic terminology Word Count: 5,610 Summary: Lithuania becomes impulsive when Poland’s life is on the line. Notes: This is my atrociously late @lietpolsecretsanta for @eternal-night-owl I will give the prompt at the end of the fic because it really gives the plot away. Hope you like it!

Milk swirled into the bowl filled with chocolate cereal, quickly turning from white to a light brown.

The sky just changed color in the east with most of the sky above Warsaw still dark. Poland groaned and lowered the top of his French press. He added milk and sugar to his coffee. It was getting harder and harder to wake up every morning, a combination of everything going on in the country and the shorter daylight hours.

He sat down at his small kitchen table and dipped his spoon into his cereal. Something seemed out of place.

Kurwa.

Poland shuffled to this door, picked up the morning newspaper from his welcome mat, and plopped back down at the table with a frown on his face at both the morning and the headline. His cereal turned too soggy for his liking.

His phone buzzed, and his heart jumped at the thought of going into work early again.

Thank God, it wasn’t his work phone. It was his personal.

He picked up and turned on the speaker. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Poland!” said Lithuania. “Is everything alright?”

“Liet…!” Poland rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Morning.”

“I had to be the one to call you. Are you tired?”

“Yeah.” Poland sat down at the table and opened the newspaper. “You sound happy.”

“It’s my turn to bring Monday coffee.”

“I wish I had a latte,” Poland groaned. “My cereal is inedible.”

“Did you pour the milk before you got the paper again?”

“Mmhmm.” Poland ate a spoonful of the soggy cereal and cringed. “You used to get the paper. That’s why my milk never got soggy.”

“And I’ve been living in Vilnius for almost two years.”

“You know that you can still—”

“Poland—”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me to move back.”

Poland rubbed his forehead. “It’s too early to argue.” And I’m too tired. Poland sipped his coffee and read a column on the first page. “Ugh, this group is at it again.”

“Which one?”

“PP.” Suspect in Newspaper Firebomb Is a Member of Poland First. Suspect Monika P. was arrested at her home in Legionowo.

“Why won’t the government do anything about them?”

“They have friends in high places.”

Poland turned the page and read, The president of Poland First, Marcin Szymczak, strongly condemned the actions of the suspect.

“They sound like they’re dangerous,” said Lithuania. Poland heard the faint ticking of a car blinker in the background. “And with their membership increasing…Whatever, I technically shouldn’t have opinions on your domestic issues.”

“I know.” Poland reached across the table for his planner and looked at his schedule. “Maybe the Internal Security Agency will have something to say. I’m going into their offices a little bit before noon.”

“That’s a coincidence. I’m doing work for the State Security Department today.”

“Really?”

“Yes, just analyzation work as usual.”

“Oh I sometimes do that.”

The only sound heard was the blinkers and occasional car horn coming from Lithuania’s side. Poland shoved some of the cereal into his mouth and sipped more of his coffee. Lithuania should be the one talking, right? He was the one who called…

“So…”

“I’ll be in the parking garage soon, so I’m sorry if I cut out.”

“Th-That’s okay. I was about to head off.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay…Bye.”

“Bye.”

Poland hung up and pursed his lips. And he thought the conversation they had last week was awkward.

His work phone vibrated in his bag, blessedly distracting him from his thoughts.

“Hey, boss.”

“Łukasiewicz, are you awake?”

“Good morning to you too.”

“This isn’t a game. Your meeting with the ISA’s been pushed up.”

Poland set his dishes in the sink and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Pushed up? To when?”

“As soon as possible.”

Poland blinked. “As soon as possible? Is something up?”

“The message only said to head to Rakowiecka as soon as possible.”

Lithuania’s coworker took one sip of the coffee and grimaced. “I asked for soy, Laurinaitis.”

“S-Sorry, Arlauskas!” Lithuania said. “A latte for you, Nekrusienė.” He put a latte on a woman’s desk, one of the last of many.

“Thanks, Laurinaitis,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, Laurinaitis, Butkus wants to see you in his office,” Arlauskas barked from across the room.

“He does?” Lithuania set down the last coffee with a, “Here’s yours, Vilkas,” and threw out the coffee holder in the trash. “Any reason why?”

“Didn’t say.”

Upstairs, Lithuania knocked on the door of his supervisor for the day.

“Come in. Oh, close the door, Laurinaitis.”

Butkus had been working in the intelligence services since the 90s and had known Lithuania since then.

“Arlauskas said you wanted to see me,” Lithuania said.

“Yes. It’s a serious situation.”

Lithuania’s breathing grew faster, and he sat down. He had felt nothing off in his interior all weekend. “What happened?”

“We’ve received intelligence reports about that Polish extremist group in the past.”

“PP?” Lithuania said.

“Yes.” Butkus slid a manila folder across his desk. “We received a report from the ISA in Poland stating that some of their intelligence has been compromised. A hacker from PP is a suspect.”

Lithuania opened the folder. The ISA’s symbol headed the top of the paper. “That is serious—”

“And more concerning you, it’s possible that they came into contact with files about Poland.”

“About Poland?” Lithuania gasped. Only select members of the intelligence community, the head of state, and the head of government knew about the nature of nations.

“Yes, about him. We’re overhauling the security system surrounding files about you. Have you logged on today?”

“N-No, I just finished giving out coffee when I came up here.”

“You won’t be able to log on. We’ve disconnected your computer from the network until we update its security. What’s your phone’s operating system?”

“Operating system?” Lithuania pulled out his personal phone from his pocket. “I’m not sure. It’s an iPhone 3.”

Butkus raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, an iPhone what?”

“This sucks.”

Poland threw some socks and shirts into a suitcase and pressed the send button on his work phone. “This flight just set me back 1000 złoty. Stupid WizzAir.”

“The government should pay for that, right?” Hungary’s voice cracked through Poland’s personal phone.

“Yeah, but it’s still a lot.” Poland went into his study and pulled out his passport from his desk. “Anyway, thanks a lot for letting me stay over. I hope this doesn’t last too long.”

“Anytime. How are you feeling?”

“I probably should be scared, but this is so annoying. It’s Christmas.”

“You can spend Christmas here. I eat carp on Christmas too, you know—”

Poland rolled his eyes. “It’s not the same.”

“I know. I know.”

Poland looked at his open suitcase with his clothes haphazardly piled to the brim. “…I think I’m ready.”

“When’s your flight?”

Poland checked his work phone. “In two hours.”

“Should you be—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Poland zipped up his suitcase and pulled it upright. “I’m calling a taxi. They told me I was at risk traveling publicly, so I can’t take the train to Chopin.”

“Have you talked to Lithuania?”

Poland bit his lip. “He called me earlier today, and oh God, it was so awkward—”

“It’s been two years—”

“I know. It’s just….I don’t know. We have nothing in common anymore.” Poland turned off the light in his living room and looked outside at the rain pattering on the window outside. Warsaw had a wet winter.

“That’s impossible. You’ve known each other for 700 years. I only asked because I wondered if he knows about this.”

“State Security Services probably know. He said he worked with them today.” Poland grabbed his keys off the counter. “Anyway, I’m leaving now. I’ll text you in the taxi.”

“Be careful, Poland. I know they’re your citizens, but these people are lunatics.”

“I mean, if they love Poland as much as they say they do, I doubt they’ll try to kill me or anything. Anyway talk to you soon.”

Lithuania’s computer screen was split into two documents. On the left side was an official Russian document several pages long. On the right was a Word document growing in length. Lithuania took a few seconds to read lines in Russian before typing the same text in Lithuanian on the other one. The rest of his coworkers in the office did something similar.

Lithuania normally did not check his personal phone while at work unless the meeting was excruciatingly boring or Poland kept blowing up his messages and he had to put his entire phone on silent.

However, this time in the corner of his desk, his phone lit up with a text message from someone else: Hungary.

Hey, has Poland texted or called you recently?

Intrigued, Lithuania responded. I called him this morning. Why?

He booked a plane to Budapest but he hasn’t messaged me at all since he left his apartment.

Budapest, but not Vilnius? When did he leave his apartment?

About an hour ago.

Lithuania looked at the clock. And you said he took a taxi there? Have you tried calling?

His phone’s off. It’s going straight to voicemail.

Impossible. Poland would never allow his phone to die during the day.

I’m taking the rest of the day off, Lithuania responded. I’ll drive to Warsaw.

The speedometer on Lithuania’s car read no lower than 140 kilometers an hour, as fast as Lithuania’s heart went. The dark woodlands of northeastern Poland flew by on either side of him. Hoping his new cars stereo system worked, Lithuania scrolled up on his center display and pressed a contact.

Please work. Please work. Please work.

“Hello?”

“Hungary! Oh thank God, you responded.”

“Lithuania? Have you left work yet?”

“I’m in Poland. Where are you?”

“Poland! How fast are you driving?”

“Um…” Lithuania looked at the speedometer. “Fast. I should be in Warsaw in a few hours.”

“Wow. I’m at the airport. My flight’s in an hour.”

“Y-You’re flying?” Lithuania couldn’t see himself taking a plane to Warsaw. He would have frantically paced back and forth in the terminal until his flight was called.

“It’s a lot faster than driving.”

Lithuania swallowed. “I know.” The next questioned bothered him for hours. S-So Poland was going to Budapest?”

“Well, yes, he called me right after his meeting with the ISA. He said he had to leave the country, and he wanted to come to Budapest.”

“To Budapest?” Lithuania’s heart deflated, but he knew that he shouldn’t whine to Hungary. Poland didn’t even message him after his meeting. “My supervisor mentioned that we have the ISA involved.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. They might be formulating a plan as we speak. I’m just…” Lithuania sighed. “I’m scared for Poland. He must be so scared. You know how shy he is.”

“You sons of bitches, let me go!”

When Poland came to, he found himself in—presumably—an apartment in Warsaw with a blindfold over his eyes. No one had bothered to remove the jacket and scarf he wore outside and sweat dripped down his forehead as a result. His hands were tied up in duct tape; he could easily wrest himself free, but if he did, then he might get stabbed or shot. In other words, not get very far.

“The paperwork never mentioned he had a temper.” Poland recognized the soft voice—one of PP’s representative he’d heard on TV. Marcin Szymczak?

“Personality doesn’t matter,” a harsher voice responded to Szymczak. “His actions are a disgrace to the nation.”

Poland rolled his eyes. “You’re a disgrace. Why are you doing this?”

“Shut up, you—”

“Quiet,” Szymczak said. “Go call Tomek in the other room.”

The other man grumbled and left, slamming the door behind him. Szymczak sighed.

“Pawel can be a bit zealous,” he told Poland. “He wanted to hurt you when you first arrived, but I still respect you as the Polish nation.”

“Kidnapping me isn’t respect,” Poland snapped.

“You don’t agree with our methods. That’s to be expected.”

Poland stiffened as Szymczak stepped forward and touched the back of his head. “Wh-Wha—” Poland’s blindfold came off. Szymczak looked as well-groomed and well-dressed as he appeared in front of the cameras. A smart shirt and pants, his light brown hair slick backed—it must’ve been his outfit when he worked as a financial analyst in London.

“What’s the point of kidnapping me? You know intelligence agencies are onto you.”

“Nothing’s happened to groups like ours for a while.” Szymczak sat in a leather chair across the room from Poland.

Poland took one look around the room—at the bookshelves, oak desk, and the iMac. “Is this your home office?” he asked.

“Yes,” Szymczak said. “Most of our supporters don’t know that we have you. Only our computer experts and other higher-ups know of your existence.”

“Then what’s the damn point of keeping me if your followers don’t know about it?” Poland said.

“We don’t just want our followers to know about it. If we told our followers about you, they would rip you apart. No, we want the entire country to know about you.”

Shocked, Poland blurted out the most obvious thing. “That’s classified information!”

“We are aware of this. However, we find it imperative that the country knows you and your actions, which in my opinion do not befit the Polish nation.”

Poland blinked slowly. “…What?”

“We read your file. Your actions towards other nations in the past have been…inappropriate.”

“Oh. My. God.” Poland rolled his eyes for the second time in the room. “I already explained this to my boss.”

“Your friendliness towards Lithuania and Ukraine in light of their treatment of our countrymen, your…relationship with Lithuania. Although, he doesn’t live with you anymore so that’s a plus—”

Poland had explained this so many times that he felt nothing when a government official or someone else expressed concern about his sex life.

“You know, it’s funny that you’re what…thirty?” said Poland. “And you’re bringing up historical problems that you haven’t even lived through. Do you even remember communism? I do, and I remember World War II and the partitions and Grunwald. I knew Pilsudski and Mickiewicz and Jagiello. I’m over a thousand years old. I know more about myself than you and anyone else alive. And by the way, who I fuck is no one’s business.”

Szymczak was silent for a few moments before responding, “It’s a shame we don’t see eye to eye. It seems that you’re quite eloquent, not that I should be surprised. But unfortunately, your actions are still not appropriate. We cannot have someone like you representing the nation. In conclusion, a new Poland, other than you, must be reborn.”

But that’s not how it—Wait a minute…Poland opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. They hadn’t stolen all of his information then. He could use this to his advantage.

“I-I must be reborn?” Poland said, feigning fear.

“For the good of Poland,” Szymczak said. “You know our motto.”

“Dla lepszego narodu.” For a better nation. “So…I must die for the good of Poland?”

“That is what we believe, yes. I know that it’s harsh for you, considering you’ve lived for over 1000 years. But your sacrifice would be for the good of the country and the good of Europe.”

Poland pretended to look shocked.

“If…I have to die for the good of Poland…then…” He closed his eyes. “So be it.”

“So be it,” Szymczak repeated and put the blindfold back on Poland.

The green sign on the side of the road read Warszawa. He had slowed down significantly a few hundred miles ago, as the sun set and Lithuania felt uncomfortable driving so fast in the dark.

“I’m finally in Warsaw,” he told Hungary over the phone.

“Finally.” She had arrived in Poland three hours before. “I spoke with an ISA officer when I arrived. They have a plan to rescue Poland.”

“Alright.” Lithuania looked at the clock in his car. “Where do you want us to meet? Rakowiecka?”

“No, there’s a safe apartment in Śródmieście. A few blocks away on Chmielna. I’ll text you the address.”

Lithuania calculated how long it would take from across the river to one of Warsaw’s most southern districts. “I’ll catch you there. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Now that he was in Poland, Lithuania’s car picked up Polish radio show. Currently, it had automatically switched to Polskie Radio.

At this hour, the Vistula was pitch-black as Lithuania drove over the river, lights from the businesses on the riverfront reflecting across the water.

Compared to earlier (and partially because he slowed down the car), Lithuania’s breathing significantly slowed down. Calm down, Lithuania thought. You’re in Warsaw. Poland will be safe. He breathed out. Everything is going to be alright.

The radio blathered on and on about domestic Polish politics.

“We interrupt our daily broadcast for an emergency announcement.”

Lithuania passed through Nowe Bemowo. He turned up the volume.

“It appears that our colleagues at Wiadomośći TVP have been displaced from the newsroom a few minutes before their nine o’clock broadcast.”

“Displaced?” Lithuania asked out loud.

“They are currently safe in their offices. A group has taken control of the newsroom. We do not know if they will make an announcement.”

Lithuania wanted to call Hungary, but he didn’t want to lose the announcement on the radio either. He reached across the car to grab his phone and call—

“Because TVP is our television branch, we have now information about the—”

Something large crashed into the recording studio.

“PUT YOUR ARMS UP AND LEAVE IMMEDIATELY.”

Some yelling and more crashing sounded from the radio. People on the sidewalk checked their phones in confusion, no doubt receiving notifications as a news headline.

The noise from the radio studio ceased, and instead, a calm voice flowed from Lithuania’s stereo.

“We apologize for the interruption to our regularly scheduled program. Please stand by for an important announcement.” The radio station played an instrumental version of the Polish national anthem.

Pulling up to a red light, Lithuania took out his phone from his center console and called Hungary.

“Hello?”

“Are you hearing this?” Lithuania said.

“It might have to do with Feliks,” said Hungary.

“What?”

“I can’t say more. I’m in a meeting. I’m sorry. Just meet us three blocks away from the TVP studio where Poland is being held.”

“Where’s that? Aren’t they in Mokotów?”

Hungary asked someone else in Polish. “Not the studio for Wiadomośći. Plac Powstańców Warszawy. It’s in Śródmieście. You can’t miss it. We’ll meet you there.” Hungary ended the call.

Śródmieście! Lithuania pressed his foot to the gas. That was a twenty-minute drive with the current traffic, from the north to downtown Warsaw.

Forget about the police. Warsaw was bright enough anyway so at least Lithuania could see.

Poland, like Hungary and Lithuania, was a nation. He could not die, at least, not permanently unless the Polish nation and its people was erased from existence. He could be stabbed, shot, drowned, tortured, and somehow be revived as fit and healthy as before.

Still, as someone who had experienced all of that during his life, Lithuania found it deeply unpleasant. Despite immortality, nations did not seek pain.

Which made the thought of Poland being threatened or tortured worse to Lithuania. He may never die but Lithuania did not want to see him hurt either.

On the third loop of Mazurek Dabrowskiego, the song stopped in the middle of the third verse.

“My fellow Poles.”

Lithuania turned up the volume to its highest setting.

“We believe that today is a day to begin a new Poland. As such, one of our own has uncovered a government secret that will change how you view the country forever—”

Oh no.

A sea of news vehicles and cameras from private Polish media organizations and foreign news organizations crowded a few blocks away from TVP studios.

Lithuania shut off the car and entered the apartment complex.

“Laurinaitis is here!” Hungary exclaimed, pulling Lithuania into a massive hug. Unlike the others in the room, she wore no protective armor nor even carried a weapon.

“Toris! You finally came.” She disengaged from the hug. “This is Baranowski,” she said, gesturing to a man with a bulletproof vest in the middle of the room.

“You must be Lithuania,” said Baranowski, going over to him. He shook Lithuania’s hand. “Rafał Baranowski. I’ll be leading the mission. I trust you’ll be staying here.”

“No!” Lithuania said. “I want to be involved in the raid.”

“Do you have any military experience?” a blond agent asked scornfully.

“Do you remember the Battle of Vienna?” Lithuania snapped. The other agent gave him an incredulous look in response.

“Laurinaitis’ position is similar to Hedervary and Łukasiewicz’s,” Baranowski explained. “He’s been here for a while. Give him a vest, Taser, and gun. Now remember, this is a rescue situation, not a hostage one. We don’t know how many TVP workers are trapped inside, but PP has not made any indication that they are hostages nor have they entered into negotiations with us. Łukasiewicz should be in the studio for Wiadomośći in the TVP building.” The scornful agent handed Lithuania a Taser. “The fortunate part is that the members of PP involved is so small that we should be able to enter the building with ease. The priority is to get him off of television. If he gets shot, so be it.”

Lithuania flinched at the idea of Poland getting hurt, but it was true. Poland could survive a bullet to the head.

“We want him alive or dead?” asked another agent.

“Yes, because…wait, what level clearance do you have?”

As Lithuania threw on the bulletproof vest and body armor, Baranowski explained the plan. Baranowski, Lithuania, and the others would conduct a straight-up rescue mission through the headquarters. Snipers would be set up on the roofs of nearby buildings in case of emergencies. The fact that it was dark outside worked to their advantage.

As they moved to leave, Lithuania looked over at Hungary, who was still sitting on a chair without a vest or weapon. “You’re not going?”

Hungary shook her head. “I didn’t get approval from my boss to go on this raid.”

Lithuania gulped. “O-Oh…”

“Did…you not ask for your boss’ approval?”

Lithuania blushed and felt idiotic. “I...never thought of that…” He got permission to go to Warsaw and ran out of the office as quick as he could.

“I know you want to save Poland, but should you be getting involved in this without permission?”

Lithuania gestured at his bullet-proof vest and the weapons on his belt. “I think it’s a little too late to turn back now.”

Hungary stared at him oddly. “Huh…” she said. “If I remember correctly, you’ve almost always followed rules to a T, especially if it comes to your boss.”

She had a point. After all, he even made dinner for his President the night France hosted a massive Halloween party.

“But…” Lithuania said the first thing that popped into his head. “Poland isn’t my boss.”

“Everyone, out!” Baranowski yelled. “We’re heading to the main building. Our target is the studio for Wiadomośći.”

The studio that held Poland was, thankfully, much smaller than the monstrous TVP building in Mokotow Lithuania had seen on occasion. It stood in a non-descript white building in a square. Snipers crouched on the nearby bank building and helicopters buzzed overhead.

After entering the building through a side entrance, their group of ten split off into groups of five. The scornful agent who asked about Lithuania, named Karnowski, led Lithuania’s group.

They silently paced through the pale hallways, the only sound coming from their shoes and gripping their weapons. Fluorescent lights flickered above them.

It was deserted.

“Clear,” said Karnowski, closing the door on the fifth room they came across on the second floor.

“We’ve confirmed that they’re in this complex, right?” another agent in their group said. His name was Lewicki.

“We’ve confirmed that they’re clearly broadcasting from the Wiadomośći studio,” Karnowski said. “Now the only question is where the—”

Bang! Bang! Bang! from the floor below.

“Sudas!”

“Live fire!

“One of us is down!” Baranowski said over the various shots in the room. “All of the workers were taken here. PP is returning live ammu—”

His radio cut out.

“Kurwa, kurwa,” muttered Karnowski, his eyes wide in concern. “They need our help.”

“Laurinaitis! We’ll reinforce them. You, head to Studio Wiadomośći.”

As quickly as Lithuania nodded, the other four fled down the hallway and left.

Studio Wiadomośći.

The first thing Lithuania tried to find was the staircase going up. The notes they went over aid that the studio was on the third floor of the complex. He found a stairwell and pulled out his Taser.

Lithuania stopped and heard footsteps outside of the door leading to the third floor.

“So do you really think that Szymczak managed to get the actual personification of the country?” one of them asked.

He must have been talking through a radio because the next thing Lithuania heard was, “I know. This sounds idiotic.”

He stopped outside of the door.

“Geez, I hope no one’s dead—”

Lithuania threw open the door.

“Hey—!”

Lithuania fired the Taser, and the man screamed before dropping to the floor.

Shit.

Lithuania bolted down the hallway, hoping and praying that he headed in the right direction to the studio. The man’s scream should have alerted other guards in the building.

His feet pounded the floor. His eyes scanned every door he passed by just in case it led to the studio. Footsteps

Wiadomośći…Wiadomośći…Wiado—Oh that’s TVP Info.

He turned a corner and saw the sign on the door.

Studio Wiadomośći.

He opened the studio door just a crack, and then wider and wider. Szymczak sat at the presenter’s table, still continuing with his speech. In the seat next to him sat Poland with his arms tied behind his back.

“By eliminating this man, we are ushering in the era of a new Poland. The new Poland will represent Polish interests everywhere, stand up against nations who have wronged us, and…”

But something was off. There was a certain coyness to Poland’s expression underneath that fear. Lithuania had seen Poland truly terrified in the past. What was he playing at?”

“It is time for this news Poland to be born.” Szymczak then pulled out a pistol and laid it on the table. Poland gulped but otherwise made no other motion.

Forgetting all years of training, Lithuania slammed the door open. “FELIKS!”

Everyone, from the crew to Szymczak and Poland, snapped their attention Lithuania. Poland’s face shocked Lithuania most of all. It was a combination of shock and…a hint of anger, like Lithuania had ruined some grand plan of his.

Szymczak put the gun to Poland’s head and pulled the trigger.

“NO!” screamed Lithuania. “POLAND, NO—”

A stinging sensation landed in Lithuania’s head as all sound stopped. ISA agents poured into the room from all sides, and the room went dark.

“S-Sir, he’s breathing again—”

Lithuania’s eyesight fell in and out of focus, staring up at the ceiling.

“Wh-What…”

Out of the corner of Lithuania’s vision, two armed men tackled Szymczak and others to the ground.

“Can someone check on Łukasiewicz?”

An agent stepped behind the news podium to look at Poland’s body. “He’ll take some time.”

“Ugh…agh!” A sharp pain jolted through Lithuania’s skull; his body rejected the bullet. It fell with a small clatter onto the floor.

“How do you feel, Laurinaitis?” asked the agent

“Like I got shot in the head.” Lithuania managed to send his body into a sitting position. Blood splattered on his face, helmet, and the front of his bulletproof vest.

“He’s moving again!”

With groans, the gory figure stood up behind the podium, his once-honey blond hair caked with red.

“Wh-Where am…Liet?” Poland squinted, whether from the pain or surprise. “What’re you doing here?”

“Poland…” Lithuania forced himself onto his knees, holding one side of his head.

With his body still gripping the podium, Poland staggered around to the other side. “L-Liet…Liet!” As if realizing the fact that Lithuania had been shot, he stumbled in Lithuania’s direction. “You’re hurt!”

“I-I’m fine. Don’t hurt yourself, Po!”

Poland crawled on his hands and knees to Lithuania. “You came all the way here…?”

“Y-Yeah…”

Poland stopped in front of Lithuania. “Liet.” He put his hand on the side of Lithuania’s head. “Liet, you’re hurt.”

“It was just a flesh wound for us. Po…” Like Poland, Lithuania rested his hand on Poland’s cheek.

“I…You ruined my plan!”

“What?!”

“You weren’t supposed to save me! I wanted to get shot!”

Lithuania stared at him. “What?”

“Szymczak doesn’t know that we revive! I was gonna play dead until the cameras stopped rolling and I’d scare the shit out of him!”

“You’re still alive?!” Szymczak yelled from across the room. He had his wrists in handcuffs. “I shot you in the head.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Poland snapped.

After millions in Poland and abroad witnessed Poland (or in their eyes, an innocent man) being murdered on national television, public opinion quickly turned against Poland First. The organization headquarters had been raided by the ISA, the most prominent members arrested, and the organization forcibly disbanded.

The fire crackled in the electric fireplace as Hungary, Poland, and Lithuania sat in chairs around it. Poland had given each of them a bottle of Żywiec that he had in the fridge. After Hungary bombarded Poland with hugs and cries of “I saw the whole thing!” they decided to stay inside Poland’s apartment as it seemed all of Warsaw was turned upside down.

“How long do you two have to stay here?” asked Hungary.

“At least a day,” said Lithuania. “They want to check for footage of me being shot or recorded.”

Hungary frowned. “That’s understandable.” She turned to Poland. “How about you?”

Poland sighed. “A week. I’m basically under house arrest while the investigation is ongoing.”

Lithuania turned to Poland. “What will you do?”

Poland shrugged. “I dunno. Play piano. Watch the news. Read.”

“Well,” Hungary set down her empty bottle, “I’m out.”

“Hungary!”

Hungary stood up. “You two. Make up. Now.”

Poland looked like he had seen a ghost. “Wh-Where’re you going?”

“I have a flight to Vienna.” Hungary gathered her bags. “And please only message me when you’re done.” She left the room.

“Well…”

Poland looked at the ceiling.

“So uhh…you weren’t acting like yourself.”

“Hungary made that remark earlier too!” Lithuania said. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“I dunno. The Liet I know would risk life and limb to save me from terrorists. But without getting permission from his boss?”

“Did Hungary tell you that?”

Lithuania checked his phone for the first time in hours, His boss left no less than thirty messages. “Oh…”

“Well…thanks,” Poland said. “For saving me. Even if you did ruin my plan.”

“Ah yes…your plan.” Lithuania chuckled. “And that was…?”

“To let him shoot me.”

“Anyway?! Why?”

Lithuania sighed. “I didn’t come in time.”

Poland chuckled. “Not every life and death situation has to be a repeat of Grunwald.”

“You were still shot.”

“We were both shot. That also wasn’t a part of my plan” Poland took a sip of his beer. “Hungary also said that…” His hands flexed around the glass. “…You acted a little funny when she mentioned that I was on my way to Budapest.”

Lithuania blushed, whether from the alcohol or embarrassment. “…Yes. I mean.” He sighed. “I tried not to show it.”

“What was that about?” Poland asked.

“Err…” Lithuania watched the beer swirl in his glass. “You didn’t talk to me after you found out. I would have offered you a place to stay.”

“You could’ve called me yourself,” said Poland.

“That…” Lithuania wanted to kick himself; it took hours for Poland to tell him the most obvious solution. How stupid. Even if Poland’s life wasn’t at risk, his hostile countrymen found out his existence. “…Makes sense.”

Poland bit his lip. “You called me earlier today, but that conversation was…”

“Not good.”

“So what are we?” Poland blurted out. “We’ve been talking like that for the past few months.”

“Friends,” Lithuania said immediately.

Poland felt like rolling his eyes. Friends would be a massive understatement for what they went through—and had done, to put it lightly—together.

“Do friends have awkward conversations like four times a week?”

“I am not moving back in with you,” said Lithuania.

“I never said you should move back in.” Poland hated it when Lithuania moved out, but he wondered why Lithuania made that assumption.

“You keep alluding to it,” Lithuania said.

“Because I miss you,” Poland said.

He blushed. He shouldn’t be blushing. “I don’t want you to move back with me, but can’t I be allowed to miss you?”

The fire continued to crackle as Lithuania took a large gulp of his beer.

“I’m sorry, Poland.

Poland checked his watch. “Well, it’s getting late. I think I’ll be heading to bed.”

“Thank you for the drink.” Lithuania set his glass down. He froze, his expression like a deer in the headlights. “Was my car impounded?”

“You can stay here,” Poland said. “Your spare bedroom is still here.”

“Thank you.” Lithuania stood up. “I think I’ll go to bed now too. I’ll see wherever my car is tomorrow. Are you going to your bedroom?”

Poland nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ll stay in my bedroom tonight.”

By the time morning dawned, Poland had curled up in Lithuania’s chest.

Prompt: A terrorist group with a grudge against nations kidnaps Poland and wants to shoot him on live TV. Lithuania goes to save him and they get shot together.

[shigironki]

What time do I have for this. - I’ve finally seen the new Batman: telltale series and gosh, I just couldn’t hold back from writing him! Of course, this is ocXcannon, so bewared. And I’ve made him just a tad emotional. Spoilers!  - characters: Edward Nigma, Hallie Wilkerson (batman oc) Words: 9,610 (i never write this much lmao) warnings: none -

Work. A word most people would fear, hell, even cringed when said. But to Hallie, it was a safe haven surprisingly, just sitting down and writing down the interviews most of the doctors did in Arkham. It was interesting, to say. Reading what most inmates say and what had happened to make them the person they are today, almost most lead to abuse and drugs, some even did the outrageous crime to get money. It reminds her of what she used to be at times. Griffin. A name most people thinking of a golden and fiery dress, who stood by the Riddler. A goddess some would say. Even some of the staff brings her up, saying how they’d killed to fit a dress like that, and how she got away with most things. It made her blush a bit, and quite grateful. It’s been years now since then. The night she hid the dress in her apartment, never to see it again.Too many memories to bring up, nights that her and Edward would spend, dancing and loving. As much as she wished to forget him, thinking about the dress brought memories of him. It stung horribly, more horrible than any bullet wound she had gotten, or even scratches. But it’s done for now. She has upgraded in Arkham, recovered from croc, still has her stable mental, and a life of no more crimes. She doesn’t need him… Even if it hurts to say, or lie to herself. It was nearly one when she had a knock at her door, as Gordon went towards her desk as he opened the office. “Ms. Wilkerson.” He said with a sturdy tone. “Mr. Gordon, what do I owe for this meeting?” She sat back on her chair, taking off her reading glasses and looking up at him with a smile, twirling a pen between her robotic hands. She was 38, birthday close to date. She grew, hair turning grey due to heavy loads of work, and bags starting to form more under eyes. “We got some bad news, and we might need your help” He stated. She raised an eyebrow by this, never having most GCPD officers enter her office, nor having some say they need help. Gordon sighed, hands in his pockets, “Riddler’s back. Crashed one of the casinos in downtown,” He said. “I need you to give me the interviews you had with him, maybe a lead as to why he returned to Gotham.” Her eyes widened, a pen dropping from her hand as her expression looked shocked. “He’s already killed one person from that, and tried to kill an arms dealer, but Batman took care of that, thank god.” “Y-yeah.. Thank god..” Her voice went soft, “Wait, how do we even know if he’s back? Are you sure it’s.. Him?” She scooted up close to her desk, her voice stern. “It was him, no one else has the energy to learn riddles and kill people when they don’t get it.” He looked at her heavy. She took in everything he had said, it was all so sudden. It felt like bricks hit her chest. She gulped, sighed in, “Yes, Mr. Gordon, I can help you with this case. I can drop off the tapes by the GCPD by noon tomorrow - or well, today.” She looked at the clock. He nodded, “Thank you, Hallie. I know it isn’t right to throw this onto you all so sudden, but we have to figure this out.” He said. She nodded. Before heading out, he looked at her, “Hallie, I know this whole thing will burden you. But you’ve become better without him, and I’m proud of you.” A click from the door, and her thoughts went haywire. Her eyes were still widen, her mind trying to take in everything at once. Part of her is pure pissed, what fucking right does he have to come back to Gotham? The rest is.. Thankful. He’s not dead, he hasn’t gotten killed. Both of the feelings were at war with each other. That begs the question; why. Why DID he come back? She knew well he couldn’t have gotten on parole so easily, or even hide out and suddenly pop out like nothing happened. Hallie sighed, she knew she couldn’t get any work done due to this, and had no energy to even put in anymore criminal records, or tapes. But she still sat there, trying her damn hardest to take in everything like a sponge. Only if that sponge didn’t have a gaping hole in it.. Taking in one more sigh, she got up, looking around if anything needed to be brought home, but nothing came to mind. Going through her hair lightly, her eyes went heavy quick. Every damn memory was back with him. Worse, she kept those damn tapes in the same box with the dress. This is gonna be hard, she thought. It was minutes, maybe ten, after she started to push her chair in, logging off her computer, and soon heading towards the door, when a knock on the door came. Light knocks, three knuckles on the wooden door. Hallie’s head popped up from her desk, her hands hovering from her keyboards, eyebrows raised. Did Gordon forget something? “Come in?” She said in a questionable tone, standing tall, as she walked towards the door, her hand twisting the doorknob, walking back. Nothing. No one was in the doorway, or hallway either. Confused, she closed the door, muttering to herself as she turned around, as she saw a hooded figure in her office, a shriek from her echoed. Falling back abit, she grabbed the doorknob and looked at the man with fear and anger. How the hell did he come in here? Was.. No, no one was in the hallway, she thought. The man smirked, “What do you say when you meet a ghost in your room..?” His voice was calm, snarky.. She regained herself, her eyes curious, “Who.. Are you..?” The man giggled, “No.. I do believe what the answer to it was; How you do you boo? For someone who teamed up with the Riddler, I’d expect you to be.. Smart?” He cracked a small laugh. A punch to the gut it felt, to hear him say that.. “Edward..” She said quietly.. Her eyes widen, her voice cracking abit. “Who else would tell you those riddles..?” He walked towards her, his cane hitting the floor lightly, his footsteps reaching hers as she now stood inform of her. “Aging hasn’t been so nice to you, it seems.” He said, as he took down his hood lightly, grey strands on the side of his hair, blood from his nose went all over his face as he gave a gentle smile. She couldn’t speak, her throat stung as she felt tears came to her, her hands shaking horribly as she stepped with caution, seeing him. She didn’t want to believe this, she couldn’t. He’s been gone.. Her Riddler’s been gone for so long.. “I-i.. Eddie..” She went close to him, her hands wrapping his face as she took in everything, tears going down her face. She guessed he noticed when his facial expression went worriedsom. “Where.. The hell..” Her expression went fury, gripping his face hard as she choked back tears. Anger arose from her like a fire, she was hurt by this man. How the hell could he leave without telling her? “Woah-” “Did you GO!” She screamed, “I’ve been fucking waiting for you. I’ve been fucking LOOKING FOR YOU!” He went expressionless, taking in the words she said. He honestly would’ve liked a “Hello” instead of this. “I’ve been knee deep in fucking depression, thinking it was all my fault! Thinking that I wasn’t good enough for you!” She threw her fist to the ground, eyes red at this point, “I thought you died for godsake! I’ve been numb for all these damn years, and to never get a damn heads up from what, my damn significant other?!” Still silent. “SAY SOMETHING!” She screamed, her voice cracking once more. “Hallie.” Edward said, “I..” Her face went annoyed, everything was shaking, she couldn’t control herself at this point. It was a mixture of a panic attack and pure anger. “I want a damn answer.” “You get none.” She looked surprised, “What the hell does that mean?!” Edward stroked his hand gently on her face, feeling the heat and shivers that came. “I needed to show you that I wasn’t harmed, nor dead. I know this is late - very late, but still.” Her expression didn’t change one bit. “But,” He stated, “Let me fix this.” “Why would I let you? You’re just gonna leave me for years on end until im on my death bed.” He sighed, “Let me show you atleast, and if you still feel anger towards me, I’ll leave you be.” She looked away abit, her eyes going soft, breathing going back to normal step by step. The tears never stopped, the pain he caused for so long finally hit her full on, like a truck. Should she even believe him? After a minute of silence, she sighed heavily, sniffling, she looked at him stern and heavily. “.. Fine. You have 34 hours to prove yourself.” He smiled, and before he could give her a hug, she pushed him back. “But here’s a riddle, my dear beloved; what is it that you ought to keep after you have given it to someone else?” She said, eyes sharp as she looked at him. This was easy; “Trust.” He said. “That’s what I’m giving you. Break it, as in leaving me once more, and I’ll make sure to ruin everything.” A sharp pain went through him, “You wouldn’t do that, Hallie.” She smirked, “You changed me, don’t you know? I’m not a softie, I’m not gonna have my love torn apart. So that’s the deal, got it?” He thought for a moment, was she even worth it? Edward sighed, “Yes.” He held out his hand, only to be greeted with a warm hug by her, arms wrapped around his neck. Surprised, he shook off the shock, running his hands through her hair gently as he took in everything. He knew running away wasn’t good, nor was it for her. Edward knew she should’ve known, but how could you tell the love of your life that you’re in a security jail and never know if you’re getting out, and revenge flowing you? He closed his eyes, as he hugged her hard, gentle love was in the room. He had 34 hours to prove his worth to the girl who loved him, for a girl who he had changed.