#poor man would never be able to afford a real ring

[doctorsiren]

I promised the discord that I would draw Gumshoe today

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 5000+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: You were husband & wife in name only.

AO3

The moon was bright & crisp in the sky over Rimuru. Even without your candle light, you would probably be able to see clearly into your mirror as you brushed out your hair, preparing for bed. It had been a challenging day.

Keeping Shion and Shuna from destroying their Lord with their love was a full-time job sometimes. Being the buffer between them was sometimes more than your poor human body could take; a fact Rimuru-sama was often concerned about. You usually brushed it off with a ‘better me than you’ remark as his peril would be far more of a detriment to others than you, but appreciated his concern. Besides, neither ogre-ess would intentionally hurt you. Worst you’d ever come away with before was a good goose egg from Shion swinging around Hercules’s willy-nilly and caught you in the back of the head. It was an accident, and she could have easily crushed your head like a melon, but Shion still cried for almost 3 days after every time she saw you in apology.

You chuckle a little at the memory. How wonderfully problematic your life had become in this past year. You wouldn’t call it ‘blissful’. It had it’s challenges like most. But your life taken an interest, wonderful turn that had led you to this life you wouldn’t trade anything for. You were safe. You were loved. You were a respected person when just some months ago you were nobody and nothing. How quickly the world turns.

A knock at your door halted the comb in your tresses and you look up surprised by the sound. “Who is it?” You ask. Curious who would be at your door so late at night.

“It’s me.” Your eyes blink in surprise as you hear the familiar deep timber of Benimaru behind the frame. “May I come in?”

You stammer out a reply of ‘one moment’ as you adjust yourself to make your appearance more presentable and told him to come in. It was embarrassing to have him see you in your night clothes. But if he was coming here so late at night, it must be important. Your husband never came to your chambers this late at night.

The title of ‘husband’ was in name only. You and Benimaru were not romantically involved, nor had you chosen each other completely of your own free will. He had saved you, along with Rimuru-sama and the rest of the Kijin, when they defeated the great bandit army that had been sweeping the east. Once just thugs of human and monsters alike, they had grown into a real threat in the land taking anything they please. Money. Goods. Women. When they came to your small village, they had burned it down and had taken you with them when they left. You were their prisoner and slave for nearly two months before Rimuru-sama and his band had come along.

You still remember seeing them for the first time. Bright and regal. A peasant before being a slave, you had never seen such fine strange clothes before. Nor the impending presence of the man in front of you when he’d come upon you.

“I claim this woman as my own.” They were the first words he’d ever said to you. Then he picked you up over his shoulder and carried you away with his band while the smoldering embers of the great bandit army died out in the distance.

 At first, you thought it was all going to be the same. One capture was no different than the last; though you were a little concerned about an ogre being your master than a human. But how much worse could it be? The last human captor you had had been a true monster. Being owned by a real one could not be that different. Or at least that was what you thought at first.

The ogres and Rimuru-sama had been impossibly kind. They tended to your wounds from your long capture. Gave you a place to sleep. Clothes. Fed you, although there was some debate on which ogre-ess’s cooking would ‘best suit you’, and treated you as an equal. You were incredibly moved by their generosity. They were even willing to take you home. And when you told them “I have no home” they seemed genuinely hurt by that.

You of course explained to them what happened, and realized now that you really had no place to go. You thought you would die in the bandit camp. So the thought had never crossed your mind where you would go should your imprisonment be over. You were lost and alone in the world. No money. No home. No family. Even if you left, who was to say you wouldn’t be taken up by another group who found your helplessness easy pickings? Or worse, going to that life on your own because you had no other choices…..

“You’re staying here.” Benimaru had announced, much to the surprise of everyone. “You’re my woman now, remember? I defeated those fools and claimed you as my prize. This is your home now. You’re staying here.”

There was a loud commotion from the group as they all thought he had been joking but, apparently, he wasn’t. While the energetic group argued, you looked at Benimaru critically and realized what he was doing. He knew that if you didn’t belong to someone, you could easily be taken by another. If not the remanences of the great bandit army, but someone else; as you feared. Being his woman, letting him lay claim, offered you protection you couldn’t afford on your own. “Ok,” you’d told him. Your soft voice somehow ringing out over the crowd.

Rimuru-sama had of course forbade his general from ‘keeping’ a woman. He said if he wanted to do this, he would have to do the honorable thing and marry you. It had been surprising how quickly he agreed. Then asked if you would be alright with it and you’d said yes. You had been married the next day, and were then husband & wife, and that was the end of it.

Your married life was that of about the same as anyone else in the close group. You weren’t intimate. You didn’t share secrets or stories. You didn’t even sleep in the same quarters of the estate. Aside from a few group outings, communal meals, and when he popped in on Shuna when you were around, you honestly rarely saw your ‘husband’.

Which was why it was so surprising he was here now, at this late hour.

“What is it Benimaru-sama? Is something wrong?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’d been sitting on the floor before he sat down too. His expression was placid, so it was hard to tell if something was going on.

“The envoy from Blumund is leaving tomorrow.” His eyes fixed on the hardwood under your knees.

“Yes, I know. He told me. He’s a little hard to miss.” You reply with a soft chuckle.

The envoy in question was a nice man. Tall, lean. A little bit older than you, but still a jovial person. Rimuru-sama had set you with the important task of keeping him company and being his escort during his stay. His immediate council in the Kijin were nice, but they sometimes lack the social grace or understanding of human culture. He didn’t want to offend the man and trusted you could keep him company during his stay.

“He’s rather taken with you.” Benimaru then stated. Taking you a bit by surprise. “He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.”

Your bit of surprise turned into full blown shock. “W…What are you talking about??”

“He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.” He repeated. As if somehow that made you understand completely. “He said he thinks you’re very beautiful, and charming, and that it would be a better fit for you to live among humans, rather than here in Rimuru with none of them. He talked to Rimuru-sama about this.”

“And Rimuru-sama told you about this?”

“I was there.” Benimaru stated after he shook his head. “He asked for us to severe our bond so you could go with him. So you could marry him.”

Your eyes probably bug out of your head now. Were you being proposed to by proxy by your own husband?!?

“How could he ask such a thing?!”

“Like I said, he’s taken with you.”

“That’s not the point! How am I supposed to marry someone else when I’m already married?!”

“He knows our marriage isn’t consummated.” His eyes finally look up to catch yours.

You feel your whole body turn red. Now you have to look away to stare at the floor. It was true. Your marriage wasn’t consummated. It had been something done to offer you protection and stability. It had never been about love. So you have never laid with your husband as he wished to respect your virtue. “How crude.” You mutter. Embarrassed, more than anything, as you were sure people knew about your unclaimed marriage, but no one would dare bring it up until now.

“Do you want to go with him?”

You look up again and offer a soft noise of surprise at the question. “Do you want to go with him?” He repeated. “As you said, he’s a good man. He has fortune, and power. You’d be a respected woman among your people. You’d be among your people.” Maybe you imagined it, but you thought you saw Benimaru wince at that. “You don’t have to stay here anymore. You don’t have to stay with me. You’re established enough now to make your own choices. You can be free.”

Free? The word played over in your head for a moment. The sheer concept completely foreign to you at the moment.

You’d never been free. First you belonged to your family. Then the bandits. Then Benimaru. Though you had freedom on occasion, you had never been truly free. And now that you had it, you found the idea ironically suffocating. You could choose to leave. Leave Rimuru City and start a new life as a woman of prominence in Blumund. But what if you didn’t want to leave?

“D…Do you want me to leave?” The kijin looked up at you again with a confused expression at your soft words. “If you want me to leave I will. But…I don’t want to leave all of you. I love being here, and being with Shion, and Shura, Rimuru-sama and….you. My ‘people’ have never been kind to me, so I really don’t want to go back to them. I want to stay here. We don’t have to be married anymore, if that’s the problem. We can still break our bond, if that’s what you want. But I’d like to – “That’s not what I want!”

Your eyes flicker up. Startled by the red Kijin’s roar and the burning fire resting in his eyes. “I don’t want to break our bond! I don’t want you to go with him! Do you have any idea how hard it was not to tear that man’s head off at the table when he said that?! I wanted to gouge his eyes out for saying you were beautiful! I wanted to rip out his heart out for ever letting you rest in it! You’re my woman, and my wife, and he thinks he can just say those things to me and live! He should kiss Rimuru-sama’s feet before he leaves because he’s the only reason that wretch is still breathing!”

Silence passed between you for a moment as you were completely stunted into speechlessness by Benimaru’s words. You had never expected such a passionate response out of the man. Until now, you were sure his only feelings toward you were ambivalence and mild friendship. The way he just ‘my wife’ to you, however, let you know that he had thought of this more than just a marriage of convenience. Your body flushed hot again as your heart beat hammered in your chest. “Benimaru….sama?”

“Don’t go with him.” The kijin repeated. Calmer this time as his expression seemed to morph into sadness at the thought of you leaving. “I can’t stand the idea of you leaving with him. When we first met, and I took you as my woman & wife, I will admit that I did it out of pity for you. You lost everything, and had nothing. I know what that’s like and wished to spare you. I thought that, after a few months, you would have a good enough reputation as the former wife of the Ogre Prince, Commander of the Jura forces, that we could break our bond honorably and you could make your own path in the world without fear. But, as time went on, I became more and more attached to you. Your kindness in spite of everything you endured. Your determination. Your desire to work hard to make things better for everyone here. I grew to fall in love with you and I couldn’t let you go. I know it was selfish, and that I’m being selfish now, but please don’t go.”

Your heart was still hammering so hard in your chest that you were scared you might faint. You felt like you could swoon at any moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

He looked down and started to fidget. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same.” His confession less confident this time. “You weren’t really given much of a choice in our marriage. I was afraid that you thought of me as just another man who had taken you. If you didn’t feel the same I could live with it, but knowing was – “That’s not true!”

It was Benimaru’s turn for his eyes to flicker up and be stunned by your confession. Apparently you had more in common than you thought. “I’ve never thought of you that way! If anything, I’ve only ever seen you as my rescuer. You saved me from a horrible existence as a slave. You gave this life that is so wonderful. With friends, and people I can’t live without anymore. I can’t begin to repay you.  Or tell you how I feel….”

All these feelings and emotions were rushing to the surface now the more you spoke. You had always been fond of Benimaru. Your strong, brave protector. You just assumed that he wanted nothing to do with you. The distance he put between you making it very clear. So you had pushed your feelings toward the back of your heart. Forgetting them until now, where they crashed to the front like a dam had burst.

“[Y/N]….” You look up into the red head’s eyes when he said your name. Whispered it, really, like it was some secret plea. His hand then reached out slowly to cup your cheek. Those battle calloused hands incredibly gentle against your skin. You really might swoon at the juxtaposition.

Those burning red orbs look at you in earnest before they flicker down to your lips. A silent request. One you eagerly receive.

The only time you had kissed your husband before this was at your wedding. To seal your bond. That, however, had been just a simple peck on the lips to meet the contract. This was a real kiss. Your lips pressing together in committed passion. Intense, but both of you still too shy it seemed to go past pressing your lips soundly together.

“[Y/N],” Benimaru said again as you press your foreheads together after your kiss. You don’t ever think you’ve heard your name sound so sweet. “Become my woman and my wife. Truly. You didn’t get a choice when we first met, but I ask you this now to make your own decision. Will you be mine?”

Your heart swelled unbearably tight in your chest before you nodded against his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I want to be your woman and your wife. Truly.”

You can feel the smile on his lips when he kissed you again. More deeply this time. His tongue snaked into your mouth against yours. The way he was kissing you making your legs feel weak to the point that you were happy you were sitting down. However, if they had buckled, your strong husband could easily pick you up in his arms. A shiver racing down your spine at the lewd thought that had just passed through you.

“Aah…I knew it. This is why I stayed away from you.” Benimaru said, finally letting you go. Your lips were kiss swollen now, and you were having a hard time understanding what he was talk about. “Every time I was near you, I wanted to claim you.” He explained. His expression looking deliriously happy as he examined his handiwork on your lips. “It was so hard to even be in the same room as you with your scent always hounding me every moment I was near. I had to stay away so I wouldn’t do anything horrible to you. But then that was its own torture as well. Near, apart. Both were an agony I couldn’t face somedays. Now that I have you though, I’ll never let you away from my side. You’ve summoned the beast in me. I hope you’re prepared.”

A loud squeak left your lips as the sneaky ogre flipped you. Instantly going from sitting on your ankles to flat on your back. Your world righted again and was filled with Benimaru as he leaned on top of you. His expression soft but heated, making you blush, before he kissed you again. His weight on top of you now making you moan wanton into the kiss this time.

Your world was filled with passionate kisses. They steal your breath away and make you squirm under your husband. You then feel his hands on your side. Touching you. Caressing your curves. You feel them fumbling around for your kimono tie, unwilling to let your lips go for even a moment to get to it properly, and place your hand on his chest.

“Benimaru, wait.”

The kijin stopped instantly and sat back off you. His eyes questing into your own to see what was wrong.

“I just….I thought I should…I mean we never…I’m not…” You stumble over the words to say to him. To explain that you weren’t the maiden he might have hoped for. The words cling in your throat as images of your former life flash across your mind. You feel unworthy. Dirty. Then his hand reached out to you brush your cheek again. Causing one of the tears that were welling up in your eyes to fall against it.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” He said with assurity and a softness that could only be described as love. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you as you are now. Not who you could be. My only regret is that I couldn’t kill those bastards 100 times more over for ever having hurt you.”

You scoff out a chuckle at the violent decree said so sweetly. You hand came up to clasp his own. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappointment.” He replied, almost instantly. Then kissed your hand as he brought it to his lips once he removed it from your cheek. “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to do this now. I can be satisfied with you declaring you want to be my woman and my wife. Well….contented.”

You chuckle again, more light hearted this time, and leaned in to initiate your kiss this time. “I meant what I said. I want to be your woman and your wife truly. I don’t want to stop.”

A sigh of relief left Benimaru. The prince willing to stop if you wanted but clearly so glad you didn’t. You giggle and let him take you in his arms.

The momentary pause in your kissing afforded Benimaru the chance to undo your kimono tie. Loosening it and letting it fall, but not pushing the thin material of your actual robe off your body yet. You reach out for him as well to undo the clasp of his overcoat. The heavy material immediately falling of his shoulders, in contrast, once the hold was released. He seemed fascinated with your work as your hands untie his under coat as well.

“Your touch is like fire.”

“Is that a joke?” You ask when Benimaru growled those words at you. Your apex quivering at the sound, but still curious if he was making a joke.

He chuckled. Another shiver at your core. “No. But I guess I can see how it would be. I mean it though. Everywhere you touch me sets a fire in me.” His hand came up to take yours and slip it under his loose top now. Guiding it over the hard planes of his chest over to his heart. “I can’t get enough of it.”

You kiss again and continue stripping. There wasn’t much to let go of for you, as just before now you were preparing for bed, so you were quickly naked in front of him. He talked about your touch being fire, but his was burning you up inside. His hands were hot. They left a lingering heat in your body everywhere he touched, to the point that you wonder if he had activated his magic. You were helpless against his soft touches. Your body aching already before he even properly touched.

Then, when he did, your body became a livewire.

Your limbs immediately went taunt when his fingers touched your core. “Please try to relax.” He whispered to you in your hair. His own long, hard body nestled beside you. Holding you close.

You try to do as he said and relax. It wasn’t difficult after the initial shock as the pleasure made it easy to succumb to him. Those hands so skilled at fighting working your body with similar expertise. “Mmmm…Benimaru….”

“Ah…say that again.” His deep voice was in your ear again. This time sounding elated, before his tongue reached out to lick the shell of it. “Say my name again. Please.”

“Benimaru…” You repeat his name over and over again. His precious name he held so dear. The name Rimuru-sama had given to him. It fell from your lips like a prayer chant as his fingers brought you closer and closer to climax. When you did, it fell from your lips again in a shout. “Benimaru!”

He continued to touch you until your walls stopped clamping around his digits. Finally setting them free. Your spent body laid against him, and you open your eyes tiredly just in time to see him cleaning your juices from his fingers. “Ah…my love tastes so sweet. I could get addicted to your flavor.”

If you body wasn’t already flushed from orgasm, you would have blushed completely. Benimaru seemed pretty proud of himself, however, before he leaned in to kiss you. You don’t think you taste sweet at all. But the taste of yourself on his lips was something you could get addicted to too. When had you become so perverted?

He let you go for a moment and shuffled around to pull out of his pants. You watched him, in the soft light. His handsome body bare to you. Not a mark on him thanks to his skill and healing. Your eyes travel down and find the proof of his love for you staring back proudly at your face. You gulp at his size. That was going to be inside you.

“Don’t worry. I know it’s a bit bigger than a human’s, but I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“I-It’s alright.” You reply back at his concern. He had mistaken your gulp for a concern about his size. How shameful he would probably find you if he found out that it wasn’t from concern, but excitement, that had caused you to gulp. Again, when had you become so perverted? “I trust you. And I want to be with you.”

“[Y/N]….” He spoke your name softly again before he leaned in to kiss you. Guiding you back down on your back. You feel his weight press on top of you. Your legs spread wide around his pelvis to let him mount you. You can feel the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance and shiver a little at the lower kiss. “Please tell me if I’m hurting you.” Benimaru urged as he started to press into you.

You let out a wordless cry at the initial invasion into your most private place. You can feel your entrance stretch to accommodate him. The sensation a duality of pleasure and pain. And it was only the first few inches. Finally, agonizingly slowly, he was fully inside you. The kijin raining kisses down over your face and neck and everywhere else his lips could get to as you held on to him. His back tight under your fingers as he was very clearly straining to wait for you. “I’m alright, Benimaru. Please. Continue.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder before his hips pull back away from yours, then forward back into you. You both moan at the initial slow thrust. The feeling indescribable and compounding with each shallow thrust. “[Y/N]….”

“Mmmm…Benimaru….” You moan back when he said your name. “You can…go faster….” Not that you weren’t enjoying this slow entanglement, one could only describe as love making, you could tell that he was holding back and it was hard for him. “I..I want you. Please….Make me your woman.”

“I did warn you.” His voice sounded hard now, in comparison to the soft words he’d whispered to you earlier, and you think you hear the sound of nails scratching against the floor mat by your head.

His hips pull back again, this time practically pulling out of you, before they slam back in. You let out a loud cry. One readily identified as one not of pain. Then all you can do is hold on. Your arms wrap tight around Benimaru’s neck as he pounded into you. Before, where you had tried to roll your hips up to meet his thrusts when they had been soft & gentle, all you can do now is lay under him and take it. And become a babbling mess it seemed.

“Ah~! B-Benimaruuu! S-So good! Don’t stop!”

“I have no intention of stopping.” His words were stern. The cool seriousness of his intention to keep claiming you made your walls quake around him. “You’re my woman now. This body is mine. I’ll remind you of it every day if I have to. You’ve possessed me to the point of madness with this love. I can never let you go.” His tongue laved at the sweat collecting on the skin of your neck. Following it up to the back of your ear before his teeth bit into the soft flesh there. You let out a yelp, and call his name again, before you were cumming. Your nails biting him back into his shoulder.

“Ah! [Y/N]! Too tight. It’s too tight. I’m gonna-!” His hard thrusts come to a staggering halt as he spilled his seed inside you. Holding there before his hips roll softly against you as his cock continued to twitch its release.

He collapsed on top of you once it was finished. Your bliss worn body not seeming to care about the extra weight as you held him against your bosom and both tried to catch your breath. Rested, but not to say recovered, the ogre lifted himself up off your body and pulled out. You wince as he did. Those hard thrusts catching up to you, and suddenly feeling at a loss without him inside you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You look over to Benimaru, who had apparently seen you flinch, and was looking concerned. “No. Just a little sore.” He looked a little ashamed at that and muttered an apology to you. “Don’t,” you tell him. Reaching on to touch his chest. “It’s not as if I was really complaining.”

You both blush, despite everything you’d just done, still apparently shy about intimacy, before he slid over to you. “Are you sure you’re alright? About everything?”

You nod. Both of you laying on your side to face each other. His fingers caressing your cheek before moving down to the love mark he’d nipped into your skin. “Yes. I meant what I said. I don’t regret it.” You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were going to be instantly happy as husband and wife now. You were basically starting fresh. Starting anew. Though you knew a lot about each other, you had to relearn things and uncover new things as only a spouse would know. It would take time. But you were happy enough for now to at least try to start this new chapter with Benimaru. “You’re not going to kill the envoy before he leaves tomorrow, are you?”

The man let out a boisterous laugh and wrapped his arms tight around you in a hug. “No. I would never disrespect Rimuru-sama like that. As long as he leaves, I’m satisfied. But if he touches you between now and then, I make no promise on the guarantee he will leave with all his limbs.”

“Benimaru….”

The envoy, it seemed, was clever enough to take the hint in not touching you. The murderous aura & killing intent of the red kijin seemingly always just behind you making that clear. You decline his invitation to join him in Blumund. Telling him that the only time you would come to the city to visit him was with your husband. He again took the hint and left without comment. Rimuru-sama gave Benimaru a stern talking to about scaring their allies and ambassadors to their country, but you could also see that he wasn’t very serious about it. He seemed pleased enough that things had worked out, that you were staying, and his beloved friends were happy.

Ever the wonderfully problematic life in Rimuru City.

[imatechbummerliketomholland]

I wish this trip never ends (sstbthw part 2) - h.h

Word count: 3768

Warning: angst, swear, mention of smoking

Pairing : harry holland

Request: no.

N/A: okay, i took me almost a whole month to write this but i'm kinda need to work on school too. Remember, english is not my first language, so be kind if you spot mistakes, i really tried my best. I asked you who the reader was supposed to end up with ... I'll let you figure it out but ... don't hate me for the end ... because after all ... it might not be the end. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Love you all! xx

taglist : @angeliquekalampoka , @harryhollandsgirlfriend (the one and only harry holland's girlfriend to me)

ღღღ

previously - and you can find part 3

Restoring a relationship of trust and regaining the bond that you both had was particularly difficult. You had to learn to find your place in Harrison's life, but also in his relationship with Grace. You were roommates and friends, but it was complicated to plan meetings with Harrison's busy schedule. Between his job search after the cancellation of his Netflix series, his photo shoots, his dates with Grace, those with his family. It was getting harder and harder to find a moment to reunite with the two of you. It was without counting your schedule.

You were supposed to meet at noon for lunch at that restaurant Harrison told you about where he took his mother earlier this year, for Mother's Day. You felt uncomfortable going to such a place. It was very fancy; you had taken a look at the menu and you knew in advance that you would not be able to afford to split the bill. That was sometimes one of the downsides of being friends with Tom and Harrison. They sometimes forgot that their salary was significantly higher than yours. After all, they were still simple, good-natured guys, never saying no to a quick takeout meal or ordering pizza, drinking a beer at the local pub. And sometimes, they offered to go to prestigious places, not paying attention to money, wanting to please their friends or family.

Currently you were in your room. You were throwing countless of clothes across the room, trying to choose what you could wear to this lunch. Harry stopped dead when one of your dresses flew out of your room, right in front of his nose, blocking his way. You had left your door open and your spontaneity got the better of your best friend.

“Easy, Tiger. I had no idea your clothes had the capacity of Dr. Strange's cape.” He joked before coming into your bedroom.

You turned to find Harry leaning against your doorframe, a smirk encrusted on his face. You gave him an unamused frown and his smile widened. This wasn’t funny at all; you were stressed as hell. It’s not like you still had feelings for Harrison and try to impress him – to be honest, you still had feeling for your friend, but not as intense as before, you had drawn a definitive line on the possibility of a romantic relationship with him, which had helped you a lot. – But you didn’t want to be dressed down and looked like a clown.

“Come on Munchkin, it’s just a lunch. At worst, Harrison can still make it looks like he invited you out for charity, sort of “Make a Wish” event” Harry joked, in his significant humor.

“Go to hell, Robert. Don’t you have a pack bag to make, mister “I’m going to Spain to help my superstar brother to hold his tea while he’s filming”?”

“Rude… I’m a film director, now”

Not for that, you thought to yourself, but don't have the balls to tell your best friend. You didn't want to take this joke too far. You smiled at his cute pretending offended face. You pouted mockingly before biting your lip. You loved the dynamics of your relationship so much. Your humor, sarcasm, your outspokenness, that's what brought you together. Harry pulled you lightly from your closet with a comforting wink. He chose Yves Saint Laurent poppy red wool jersey flared pants that Tom gave you on your birthday. You smiled at his choice. You liked these pair of pants because they were sparkling with vitality, the color was flamboyant. Harry then gave you a satin pearl-colored shirt from Zara and you laughed at the drastic brand difference.

“Oh I see. A classy look but no more than £ 1000 that's pretty smart,” you joked.

The choice of your outfit once again proved the reality of hanging out with wealthy people. You were not poor; you could even be grateful for the life you had had. But it would never occur to you to give your friends clothes that were going over the miles and cents. To be honest, you wanted it. You wanted to live up to the gifts your friends sometimes gave you. But the truth seemed quite different: you had cried over the price of a used Rolex you wanted to give Tom for his birthday. Even having saved for 6 months, you could not afford such a gift.

“Shut up, don’t be so dramatic. Wear that necklace Harrison gave you for Christmas. I’m sure you’ll look fine”

“Thank you,Baz…I guess. ”

You kissed his cheek and then invited him out of your room so you could get ready. It didn't take you more than thirty minutes, time to put on the outfit your best friend had chosen and to put on light makeup. When you were finally ready, you walked to Tom's room. He had offered to take you to the restaurant where you were to join Harrison. But when you got to his ajar door, you could hear the soft sound of a slight snoring. You let out a chuckle before ordering an Uber. You knew he had spent almost a full month in Los Angeles and hadn't returned until early last week. You wanted to leave him as much as possible alone so that he could rest before his trip to Spain for the reshoots of his film Uncharted. Tom was a boy who loved being in touch with those close to him, but you also felt his need to recharge his batteries. That's why you preferred to let him sleep.

You went down to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water before leaving. When your Uber arrived, you left a note on the refrigerator to let the boys know you were safely gone. It was little everyday things that made you look normal that you enjoy. A post-it on the fridge, a table organizing household chores had been drawn up. Note to yourself; It was Harrison's turn to take care of the laundry.

☙♡❧

You had really hoped this was just a grotesque nightmare. That it wasn't real. He was going to arrive; he was just stuck into the traffic. Isn't it?

But you were there, waiting for over an hour and a half, without any news from your friend. Some people watched you with pity eyes, the others didn't give you any attention. You internally thank Harry for choosing your outfit. You didn't look like a lost kitten in this prestigious setting. It didn't prevent you from being ashamed right now. The waiter had urged you to order several times but you had told him that you were expecting someone, that he would arrive any minute. The last time, you didn't know if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But it never happened. Harrison never came to your dinner. You were alone, sitting at a table, pathetically waiting for your friend to show up. It didn't look like him. He had never stand you up before. And not to improve this embarrassing moment, the waiter came to you again. This time, with a man in a suit. He was elegant, carried himself proud but diplomatic. They stopped at your table, a tight smile on their faces. No doubt the man in the suit was to be the manager.

"Miss, my employee told me that you seemed to have occupied this table for a while now. I am sorry to tell you that if you do not order a few things, you will have to leave the establishment"

You looked at him with misty eyes. You have never been so ashamed in your life. You just nod your head, not trusting your voice just yet. After taking a deep breath, you finally apologize to them before telling them that you are going to leave. The manager of the restaurant, out of politeness awkwardly apologizing for this uncomfortable situation.

You've finished the Dry Martini that you allowed yourself to, paying for it with whatever pride you have left. You pulled your cellphone out of your purse and decided to call one of the boys. After three rings, he picked up.

"Hey ... can you please pick me up?"

Your voice was shaky, you were so ashamed but it was less distressing than having to walk the Walk of Shame to your house or cry in an uber. You hung up and shared your location. You left the lobby, leaving the restaurant, standing in front of the entrance to the establishment. The air refreshed your cheeks burning with shame. Luckily it wasn't raining today. Which was pretty nice compared to that early summer you had had.

When you saw Harry's car pulled up in front of you, you slid into the passenger seat without a word. The curly redhead gave you a heartwarming smile but you definitely could see a spark of annoyance in his eyes. You sigh, resigned while shrugging your shoulders. It was obvious that your friendship with Harrison was still shaky.

"I'm sorry, love. He's a jerk about it."

Coincidentally, like a mitigating circumstance, your phone vibrated, receiving a notification from Harrison. You were chewing your lip with a sort of anguish and irritation, watching the message the blond had sent you.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. My agent called me for a pretty urgent casting briefing. She's detained me until now. Are you still okay for this dinner?"

You were angry. You were mature enough and had known the boys long enough to understand their obligations. The fact that Harrison had a lastminute meeting with his agent and missed your dinner wasn't a problem. The problem was, he made you wait for over an hour and a half before notifying you. You wanted him to call you to let you know, or a simple text just after he knew for the meeting. You typed a short answer, shorter than this was impossible. "No". You rested your head against the headrest, turning your gaze to your best friend.

"Hey, he's a Netflix star now" you replied to his last words.

Your voice cracked on the last syllables and your eyes filled with tears. You weren't usually that emotional but the anguish and shame really took over you. Harry noticed, unsure of how to instantly respond to your distress. He would have liked to stop on an emergency lane to take you in his arms but he already had 2 penalties to pay, respectively for speeding and prohibited parking ... a third fine would not be really welcome. He simply placed his hand on your thigh, drawing circles on your pants to comfort you. He simply moved his hand to shift gears and instantly rested it on your leg whenever he had the chance. This gesture soothed you, enjoying the touch, grateful to have someone as your best friend to mop up your pain.

☙♡❧

Arriving at the apartment, no sign of Harrison. When you walked in the kitchen, you saw Tom sitting at the counter, scrolling his phone. He looked up at you, not directly noticing your annoyed expression.

"Wow..you're ... gorgeous. I love these pants on you"

You smiled, a little amused by the compliment. Of course he loved the pants, it was a gift from him. But your smile didn’t reach your eyes. With a look on your expression then on the clock, the actor understood that something went wrong. Harry was right behind and still no trace of Harrison. It was suspicious. Tom gave you a worried look.

"Do I have to ask…Never mind, I’m still going to ask. How was lunch with Harrison?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him? Oh wait... right, he didn't show up" you said sarcastically although you could hear the hurt in your voice.

Tom frowned, biting the inside of his lower lip in annoyance. Harrison was his best mate since forever and he knew him so well. It seemed strange from Harrison to not show up. The blond has told him he was happy to see you again and walking through this whole awkward “feeling situation” because he didn’t want to lose you. In a quick movement, he rose from his stool to walk around the counter. The next second, he took you in his comforting arms and you finally let yourself go under the sight of the two Holland brothers.

“It seems like you need a break of all this shit” Tom said while he ran his fingers through your hair.

You let a little laugh escape through your tears. He wasn't wrong. You really needed to get away from this whole situation for a moment. But how? Harry watched the scene unsure of what to do. You were his best friend and it seemed like the solace you found was never in his arms. He had tried in the car, however, as best he could. He walked over to the counter to make you both a cup of tea. It seems that as cliché as it sounds, tea comforts you, as the English person you used to be. As the redhead waited patiently for the water to boil, a flash of genius - according to him - crossed the glare of his eyes.

“Why doen't she come with us to Spain?”

His brother's words seemed to suit Tom, who released his hold on you. You opened your eyes wide, not sure of what you had just heard. Go to Spain, with them? Once again, you knew you were going to argue on this proposition. The idea was not bad, Spain seemed a rather pleasant country. But you had just graduated and had a student job to save as much as possible. However, you could not afford to leave for several days in Spain, at the last minute. Plus, what were you going to do while Tom was filming and Harry was assisting him? He was sure the film's production crew wasn't going to give you a pass because Tom had decided.

“Yeah! That’s it, you’re coming with us”

“Tom, I have a student job. I can’t just…decide to go to Spain.”

“You never take a leave, come on. It’s not negotiable”

You were looking at Harry for help but he just shrugged. After all, he was the one who had initiated the idea of ​​including you on the trip. You were trying to find a valid excuse to stay home. You really didn't want to impose yourself.

“I can’t afford that” you said, trying your best to convince him to quit the idea.

“I don’t care, it’s not even a problem. You coming to Spain with us.”

"Omg, does Z dominate you in bed to make you so bossy in life?"

Harry almost spitted his tea and laughed out loud while Tom gave you shocked eyes with pinky cheeks. You had always been sassy but hanging out with the boys had made you even more sassy than ever. How many times haven't you heard Tuwaine or Harry make fun of Harrison or Tom on the sex subject? Being a girl seemed to make you an untouchable character. The boys had never teased you about your relationships or your sexual partners. And while you've always had feelings for Harrison, you've had your own experiences. Anyway, you had just gone with the flow and Tom's brand-new romantic relationship with his co-star gave you the perfect opportunity.

“That's not the point.” stammered the actor.

Your smile widened, proud of your joke and the way Tom reacted. You heard Harry clear his throat. He had his phone in his hand and his own smile didn't bode well for you.

"The production is okay but it's at Tom's expense."

“You got to be kidding me…”

☙♡❧

You ended up in Spain with two of your best friends. You knew you had limited time before Tom had to fly back to Los Angeles for some Spider-man: No Way Home reshoots. So, you enjoyed as much as possible: accompanying the boys to the golf course - even though you weren't very involved in the sport -, spending time to visit touristic places when they were on set, talking with Rachael and other people from the set. You really enjoyed your trip.

On Wednesday evening you went out to a restaurant with Tom, Harry and two other friends/tom’s colleagues. You couldn't deny that it was fun. You had the opportunity to sunbathe a little while walking through the streets of Madrid. Spain was doing you good and not once did you think about your wobbly friendship with Harrison. You've just left the restaurant when a few fans politely show up to take pictures with Tom. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of how kind Tom had always taken in a few snaps when his fans approached him respectfully - and there weren't too many of them -. You sighed with pleasure before stepping away from the group. You leaned against a wall and took out the packet of cigarettes that Tom had asked you to keep in your clutch bag. Being an occasional smoker, he wouldn't blame you if you took one from him. You tilted your head back to admire the dark starry night when you felt a presence by your side. You narrowed your eyes in mischief as you looked sideways: Harry was there, his nose wrinkled from your cigarette. He didn't like it too much Silence filled your bubble despite the hubbub outside. You were in public and it was not surprising to meet travelers and Madrid residents mingling with the crowd to enjoy this pleasant evening.

"I wish this trip never ends." You finally said, breaking the silence.

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he was just looking at you. You were a little tanned, the Madrid sun had done wonders on you; your loose hair framed your face and the summer dress you had chosen for the restaurant looked great on you: It was a short red floral summer dress with a shingle collar. Light enough to keep you from suffocating but decent to wear on any casual occasion. You were beautiful, stunning. His heart exploded at the sight of you, so much that it hurt a few times.

"I wish I had been there for you more." he finally confessed

You finally turned your head towards him and shrug your shoulders, smiling shyly but sincerely.

“You were working, Baz”

“I meant…not only here in Spain. I’m sorry to have let you down recently”

You give him a confused look. He hadn't been a bad friend but he kept implying it. You just shook your head negatively to brush his words away. Harry had always been important to you. He had been the first to step towards you. It was him who introduced you to the rest of the gang. He had always been concerned about you.

The night you met, you immediately clicked up with him. And to be honest, for a moment, you thought he liked you that night. But he never took that step towards you and you never did either. You dreaded that if you kissed him, he would think you were interested in his notoriety by proxy. So you just acted like any reasonable person would - accept the status he gave you. And the second time he asked you to join him with his brother and his friends, you met Harrison and your heart exploded.

"I'm glad you brought me here"

“I'm happy you accepted to come.”

“I didn't really have the choice, Baz” you joked.

He laughed slightly. You weren't wrong, he and Tom had practically dragged you onto the plane, leaving you no choice to be by their side. But you could only thank them, especially Harry who had the idea. You took another hit on your cigarette before leaning back to check out where Tom was with his fans. He seemed to be talking with the girls and didn't seem overwhelmed. So, you didn't want to interrupt him and were just going to wait for him to finish. Harry played with his hands nervously, looking straight ahead and then at you. He seemed to be repeating this game for several seconds before finally asking the question that was in his mind.

“Have you heard from Harrison?” Harry asked quite casually

“He sent me several texts to apologize and wished me to have a good time in Madrid.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

You swallow hard before looking at him. There was an indecipherable glint in his eyes and you weren't sure what to make of it. You drew another puff from your cigarette, maybe that would save you from entering this conversation. But Harry's presence was all around you and you couldn't really escape. So you've decided to be honest.

“It’s complicated. I suppose so...”

“Mhmm”

“But my friendship with Haz is important, I don't want to lose him because of it.”

“Yeah, you can't imagine how well I understand you” he sighed

“What do you mean? Who’s the lucky girl..or guy ?”

Harry turned to you frankly and you did the same, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette. You are well aware that the conversation was taking a more serious turn. He moistened his lips and walked over to you. Harry was full of things: he was full-loving, sarcastic, talented, daring, impertinent. But Harry was mostly awkward when it came to love. Not just an attraction, no, love with real feeling. Delicately, hesitantly, he reached out to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers, cautiously. You were frozen, your eyes fixed on him admiring his audacity.

"She's the most beautiful girl I ever seen." he said with a small smile.

Harry walked over to you and your heart was pounding at breakneck speed. Harry had ... feelings for you? You were really confused. Since when had he developed his feelings? Why didn't he tell you about it? Why hadn't he tried anything so far? So, were you right from the start? Was there a tension between you since the beginning of your friendship, since your met? But above all, did you want him to take that step? Instinctively, your body responded. You parted your lips and closed your eyes. You enjoyed the warmth of his hand on your cheek and were waiting for the touch of his lips. But it never happened.

"Hey baz, y/n..we're going back to the hotel" Tom said, taking his eyes off his phone. "I…Mhmm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

[in-tua-deep]

Prompt idea that I sincerely don't know anywhere else to put out, but what if, one mother of the seven like... delayed giving up the baby idk why, but like, in the end the child goes to the academy, but like... they know the world outside this mansion full of all sorts of abuse and violence, and so is trying to bring good sense and awareness to all of other children somehow, even though like... you don't know very much or correctly the things in general, but is trying anyway because yeah

okay okay i will bite

it's gonna be Five bc u know how I roll by now and you didn't specify a child, so this is a non-twin world uwu

I see some people naming him Fievel so we're gonna have to go with that, nicknamed Five by the other kids who thought it was absolutely hilarious to ask "which one?" whenever Reginald snaps “Five!”

Though officially, of course, Five is number seven.

So Fievel is born in a park to a mother who was never prepared to have achild, but held him in the hospital and looked into the eyes of a man offering her money for her newborn and she says - no. 

Because she’s poor, yes, and she’s working two jobs to make ends meet, and this man might be able to provide for her child but - she doesn’t like the fact that he offered her money. As though he could place a price on a human life.

(His stupid mustache might have played a role as well. Bastard.)

So she keeps little Fievel, and it’s hard. It’s so hard. Babies are expensive, and she was barely making enough as it was, but her best friend works from home and offers to take him sometimes during the day instead of a more expensive daycare. Some of her other friends ask around relatives and friends and hunt through garage sales until she has a passable amount of baby items.

It would be easier if Fievel wasn’t such a precocious child. He’s curious and into everything, a loud baby that demands attention. 

“C’mon Fi,” She begs her three-year-old son from where she’s draped across the sofa. Aren’t kids supposed to sleep a lot? Why did she end up with the one kid in the world who is on the go twenty four seven? “Can we please take a nap?”

“No.” Fievel says with a mulish look in his eyes and he shoves a book towards her face and almost takes her eye out with a corner of it, “Wead to me.”

And she sighs, and she’s so tired, but she hauls herself up and pats the sofa next to her and her little boy beams at her with such - such love that it almost takes her breath away. “Dogger, again? How many times have we read this?”

Fievel kicks at her with his little soft foot, and she catches it in a hand and smiles and she drops the book in her lap to bring her other hard over to dust feather light fingertips against her baby’s sides.

He’s terribly ticklish and giggles even as he shrieks “NO” loud enough that their neighbors will probably complain to her about it again. But in that moment she doesn’t care as she brings her head down to blow raspberries on her son’s stomach and make him laugh.

She loves him so much. 

(But she never has any time. Her friendships are more distant now, because she’s either at work or spending time with her son. She’s always exhausted because she works such long hours and Fievel keeps her awake when she’s a home. She doesn’t blame him, he didn’t ask to be born into the world any more than she asked for him, really. But it’s hard.)

Fievel is a curious child. She takes him to children’s museums and zoos on the discount days and watches him run around with seemingly endless energy. She has to keep a careful eye on him otherwise he will disappear, get distracted and wander off no matter how many times she’s tried to tell him to never do so.

Then he turns four.

Her baby is so smart. And he’s restless. And even though the place she works has a daycare through them, the people there are one incident away from banning Fievel. She thinks that’s dumb, considering they’re the ones that didn’t watch Fievel closely enough and lost him almost four times in recent months. 

So she signs him up for preschool.

She gets him a brand new outfit for the day, fussing over him until he’s all squirmy and pouty and slapping her hands away with all the grump that a four-year-old can muster. 

She sends him off to daycare with ruffled hair and a wide smile and tries not to worry too much.

She’s at work when she gets a call from the school informing her that they’ve lost her son. She hurriedly lets her boss know and sweeps out of work without a backwards glance, showing up at the school just as her phone rings again and a flustered individual informs her that they’ve located him.

“I have no idea how he got out.” The frazzled teacher looks close to tears when she meets with the poor woman, giving Fievel a fierce look that promises that they will be having a talk about this. 

“I din’t do anything.” Fievel pipes up mulishly, “I didn’t go nowhere, the class did.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and faces the teacher apologetically. After a pointed comment from a friend, she’s been vaguely looking into ADHD since her kid is like this, “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I’ll - I’ll make sure to keep a better eye on him.” The woman looks floored that she isn’t tearing strips out of the school administration for losing her toddler. Actually when it’s phrased like that she probably should be more pissed off. But she also knows her kid and what a handful her is.

So she takes him home and sits him down.

“This can’t happen again, Fi.” She tells him, and he’s got his little arms crossed and he’s pouting with his entire body. “I mean it. I had to leave work, and you know I have to work.”

“You don’t hafta.” Fievel says harshly, “What about me?”

She sits on the couch next to him, heart heavy, “Baby, you know I have to work so that we can have things and go places.”

Her son scrabbles up on his knees and puts his hand on her arms and gives her big eyes, “I don’t need lotsa toys. An’ we don’t hafta go to the zoo.”

“Oh baby,” She pulls him into her arms and lets him snuggle into her, “I gotta work. And you gotta go to school and be good. Okay? You can’t be leaving the classroom again.”

“I din’t mean to.” Fievel sniffles, and she hugs him just a little tighter as the tears start to flow.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs into his hair, “I got you.”

To his credit, Fievel does his best. He still manages to leave the classroom somehow, seemingly whenever the teacher is looking away. No one seems to know how he does it. Emma who sits next to him exclaims that he just vanished like he went BAM and wasn’t there all of a sudden!

(Oh, the imagination of four-year-olds, the teacher thinks to herself.)

But whenever he does he seems to come back within fifteen to thirty minutes. Sometimes the teacher doesn’t even notice he’s gone before he’s knocking on the (locked) classroom door to be let back in. They don’t call his mother about the incidents anymore and the teachers nickname him Houdini with a sort of despair. 

Fievel is four-and-a-half when he’s taking a walk with his mother down to the park. He’s got his little rainboots on because he always wades into the pond and he likes the slosh of the water on his feet when it goes over the top, and his little duck shirt. He’s making loud quacking noises which don’t actually sound anything like a duck but when he looks at her for approval she nods with a smile.

They’re crossing the road at the crosswalk, holding hands because they always do, when the car comes careening around the corner.

She can’t react in time, eyes widening and she’s hollering and she moves to push her son and she only has eyes for him as she places her body between him and the car and - 

She watches his eyes go wide and afraid and she 

watches

him

disappear

and then the car clips her and she’s sent sprawling and that’s the last thing she remembers.

She wakes up in the hospital hours later with a concussion, a broken arm, several broken ribs, and a lots of scrapes. She’s lucky, they tell her. She demands to know where her son is. 

Hours later, when she’s worked herself up into a right tizzy, her son sprints into the room followed shortly by some very harried looking cops and she has to haul him into the bed so that he doesn’t hurt himself getting up.

“Gentle, gentle.” She warms him, wincing when he bangs a knee into her bad ribs, “I’m a little tender at the moment, baby.”

“You got hurt!” Fievel yells at the tops of his lungs and then immediately bursts into loud and terrified tears. So she ignores her bad ribs and messed up arm and cradles him close to her making shushing noises and stroking his back until he’s cried himself out and drops off right there in the hospital bed.

She gets out of the hospital with a cast and a bill she can’t afford right now and she sits Fievel down on the couch.

She wants to write off the fact that her son literally vanished before her eyes to the concussion. But - she thinks about a locked preschool classroom and a son that has a tendency to vanish when she takes her eyes off of him and -

It makes too much sense.

“Baby.” She asks, “Can you teleport?”

“What’s tell-ee-port?” Fievel asks, scrunching up his nose.

“Do you find yourself in other places without getting up and going to them?”

“Yeah.” Fievel states it so easily, like she’s dumb. “I told you so.”

She pressed her fingers to her face, “Can you do it now?”

Fievel frowns and then scrunches up his face real hard and then -

He’s gone. And then he’s opening his bedroom door and scurrying back out. He runs over and tugs at her pants eagerly, “I did it! Did I do good?”

She crouches down and ruffles his hair even though it kills her ribs, because she can’t pick him up with a broken arm. “Yeah baby,” She praises him, mind moving at an hour a minute, “You did good.”

That night she lays in her bed and watches Fievel’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps. He sprawls out like a starfish but sometimes in the night always buries himself into her side like a tick. She’s put a pillow in between them to try and spare her poor ribs, but she has doubts it will work.

Her son can fucking teleport.

That’s when she cries. Because she loves her son, but he’s a handful. She didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice that he son has a superpower. Doesn’t that make her the worst mother in the world?

Crying is a terrible idea. Her ribs are painful enough that she can’t sleep. She needs to ration her pain medication because they really can’t afford it. 

How is she supposed to handle this? How is she supposed to raise a child that can vanish without a second thought? Her bright beautiful boy who loves feeding the ducks and being pushed on the swings and playing unfathomable games with his friend Emma that she can’t even begin to understand the plot of.

(She’s almost certain one of them is supposed to be a cheetah for some reason? Or a lion? There’s a lot of running involved in the game, and hiding.)

It’s a few months later when her arm is healed and her ribs are better and Fievel is turning five when everything comes crashing down. Because she doesn’t get a call from the school. She gets a call from the police.

Apparently Fievel managed to get out of the school far enough away that he got lost. He admits tearfully to her that he’s been getting further and further away when he ‘jumps’ - and it’s not his fault. He tries not to jump. But it happens whether he wants it to or not and if he keeps getting further and further away then -

She thinks of a car and a road and putting her body between death and her son. And she thinks about the fact that when he jumps, she isn’t there.

Look. She’s not stupid. She always knew that her kid wasn’t exactly a normal child.

(Hello. He’s practically a miracle. She wasn’t exactly a virgin but that doesn’t really matter when she was very suddenly nine months pregnant where she hadn’t been before.)

So she reckons that the powers have something to do with that. And who does she know that definitely has a child who was also one of the miracle babies?

(He’d mentioned he’d already acquired like, what, four kids when he came to see her. As though that was supposed to make her want to give up her kid even more.)

So she requests some vacation days (that she can’t afford) and she pulls Fievel out of preschool for a week (it’s preschool it’s not that important) and they fly over to a city where she can hopefully get some answers.

(Fievel spends the whole flight with his face pressed to the window and his plane toy clutched tightly in one hand and his stuffed dog in the other as he enthusiastically makes whooshing noises.)

And she goes up the the big mansion thing and knocks and goes inside where she smiles at Fievel and tells him to go play with the other children while she talks to Mr. Hargreeves, thank you baby.

As she clenches her hands into fists and listens to Sir Reginald Hargreeves condescend to her about her ability as a mother, Fievel enthusiastically bounces over to the kids his age who stare at him like they’ve never seen anything like him before in their life.

(“I’m Fievel!” He introduces himself loudly, “And this is Doggy! My mama is here to speak to your dad.”

“Uh. I’m Six.” A bewildered little girl says back.

Fievel blinks, “Oh! I just turned five.”

The girl giggles, “No! No I mean my name’s Six. but I’m five-years-old as well.”

“That’s a funny name.” Fievel says.

“Nuh uh.” The girl refutes, “Your name is weird. See, ‘cause we’re all numbers ‘n you’re not.”

And he’s introduced to them all. One is tall and awkward looks. Two hides behind the others a little bit. Three has her hands on her hips and she looks at him, but softens when he tells her that he likes her hair. Four is a skinny wisp of a kid, with big wide eyes and no sense of personal space. Five sticks pretty close to Four. And Six, of course, is the one who talked to him first which obviously means that they’re temporary best friends.

Temporary, because of course Emma is his best friend. ‘Cause she’s in his class and they sit near each other and play together with each other first.)

And his mother comes out to Fievel bossing the others around and them going with it, all with bewildered little expressions on their faces. Fievel is balancing on the back of the sofa next to a little girl who is holding Doggy, possibly in the middle of an evil villain speech? The little girl is solemnly petting Doggy like she’s a Bond villain at the very least.

It makes her smile, just a little bit. 

“Fievel, baby, can you come here for a second?” She asks, and her son beams at him and vanishes from his seat over to by her leg where he pulls on her leg so that she’ll sweep him up into her arms. 

(The children gape at him, all wide eyes and staring between them and their father like they’re shocked. And they probably are. Reginald has informed her that none of them can teleport, but they do have a variety of weird powers between them.)

“You know that you’re getting big.” She says, and she tries not to cry, “And you’re not going to be in preschool soon enough.”

“Yeah!” He enthuses, “Gonna learn real stuff!”

And that’s just like her son. Voraciously hungry for knowledge. 

“Well, this is a school for very special people.” She tells him, and watches his eyes go big and round, “People who... can teleport, for example.”

Fievel considers that. And then twists around to look at the other children, “You can teleport?” He demands loudly, like it’s a betrayal of the highest form that they’ve been friends for an hour and this hasn’t been brought up. And maybe it is. She doesn’t claim to understand the intricacies of children’s hierarchy.

“Uh uh!” A little boy exclaims, frowning. “I can just throw stuff real good.”

“I’m strong.” Another little boy offers. And then proceeds to demonstrate this by picking up half the couch and sending the little girl careening onto the floor with a shout, but she gets up and dusts herself off easily enough.

“Okay.” Fievel says brightly, appeased by this somehow as he twists back to his mother expectantly. 

“Okay.” She says, her mouth dry. “Well. This is a special school for special kids. It’s, uh. It’s a boarding school.”

“What’s that?”

“It means you stay here.” She tells him. “I’ll - I’ll come and see you when I can. And you can call me whenever you want. But you have to stay here.”

“Like a sleepover?” Fievel asks, scrunching his face up in confusion.

“A little bit.” Her smile feels weak and forced and she can’t even see it. “Like a lot of sleepovers all in a row. And when you wake up, you don’t need to go anywhere because you live at the school.”

“Uh uh. I live at home.”

“Baby...” She cards her fingers through his hair. “I know it’s scary. I don’t want you to go either - ”

“Then I don’t gotta.” Fievel says, matter of fact as he starts wiggling to get down. She hefts him up in her arms.

“Baby. Fievel. Listen to me.” She says firmly, “I can’t take care of you well enough.”

He looks at her with betrayed eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t control your powers.” She tells him softly, because she loves him and she doesn’t want to give him up but - “I can’t keep you safe, baby. And the teachers can’t keep you safe. But you’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want to.” Fievel says, loudly. In the tone which says that a tantrum is approaching.

“You’ll learn how to control your powers!” She says in a forced cheery voice.

“I’m going to school with Emma.” Fievel insists in a slightly louder voice.

“You’re already getting along great with the other kids.” She insists.

“NO.” Fievel says, at maximum volume, and then he’s gone from her arms and she’s stumbling because it’s weird to go from holding something to nothing.

“He’ll show up in a bit.” She assures Sir Hargreeves, beyond tired. He’s been watching the whole interaction and she hopes he hasn’t gotten a negative impression of her son. 

If he’s able to handle six other super powered children then surely he can handle hers. No matter what he asks. No matter how difficult it was to sign over the rights to her child. He promised that she can visit Fievel on weekends whenever she wants, for however long her son wants to do so.

He’s going to keep her child safe. He won’t be running out onto streets. He’ll be able to train his powers, be able to control them, and maybe one day - 

(Maybe one day she’ll get her baby back. Safe and sound in her arms and able to control his powers so she doesn’t have to worry at all.)

So she leaves, and she leaves Fievel alone. And no matter how much he screams and cries and begs, no one lets him go back to his mother. He tries to run off, tries to jump away and follow after her - but a blond woman in pristine skirts comes and retrieves him. 

(He tries to jump away, but she keeps coming and finding him until he’s too tired to protest when she carries him back to his new (prison) school in her arms.)

Reginald tries to lock him in his room. He jumps out. Reginald tries to put him in time out. He jumps out. Reginald says he doesn’t get any dinner. Fievel jumps downstairs and raids the cupboards in the night.

It becomes an intense battle of wills between Sir Reginald Hargreeves and little Fievel.

Locks go on the cabinets, Fievel breaks them off by bashing them with one of the bookends he manages to snag. Reginald refuses to let Fievel play with the others. Fievel runs away again and has to be brought back by the blond lady. 

(“You can call me Grace if you’re so against mom.” she had told him demurely, after he yelled himself hoarse telling her that she’s not his mother that he has a mother and that she’s so much better in every way)

Then Reginald takes Doggy away, and Fievel begrudgingly has to fall in line lest he risk his stuffed companion. One of the only links to his real life he has.

(He doesn’t even get to keep his clothes. He has to wear the stiff awful uniform that the other kids wear. It’s the absolute worst. He looks stupid but no one listens to him.)

When his mother comes to visit, Fievel is sullen and still angry with her for abandoning him. He sulks and doesn’t talk to her a lot.

He grows like this. The Umbrella Academy turns six, and then others receive names after Fievel loudly points out that having numbers for names is weird and that no one should ever trust a man who names his kids numbers it’s lazy and stupid.

So One becomes Luther and Two becomes Diego and Three becomes Allison and Four becomes Klaus and Five becomes Ben and Six becomes Vanya.

And Fievel becomes Five.

They all think it’s really funny, that they all get names instead of numbers and Five gets a number instead of a name.

He’s six and Reginald sits him down and tells him in no uncertain terns that his mother essentially sold him. That Reginald controls him. And if Five isn’t a good boy then... well. Bad boys don’t get to visit their mothers.

(Reginald finds a far more... effective way of controlling Five than a stuffed animal.)

(Good boys also don’t talk to their mothers about their training. They smile and act happy and lie because they want to keep seeing her. They don’t tell her about how scary it is, how they desperately want to come home, how maybe their mother could take all the kids because they don’t even have mothers and it isn’t fair.)

So Five grows bigger, gets new uniform, clashes with Reginald as much as he dares, and settles in to life at the academy. He sprawls across Vanya’s floor and tries to remember all the story books he read with his mother.

(There’s only grown up books in the manor that they’re expected to read. And Five likes them, he loves to learn, but - he misses storytime. He misses the wonderful books about adventure and other worlds. He misses when he felt like he was going to go on an adventure because he had powers and was special!

He doesn’t wish he’s special anymore.)

Vanya asks him once why he hangs out with her, because she’s normal. Because she doesn’t have powers.

And Five looks at her and tells her that that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He spend years surrounded by people without powers. He tells her about his best friend Emma, who definitely didn’t have powers. 

“I wish I had a best friend.” Vanya tells him, face sad and drawn and Five pulls her into the fiercest hug he can.

“You’re not my best friend,” He tells her, and she looks even sadder until he finishes it up with, “You’re my sister.”

“But you have a mother.” She says, sounding confused.

Five shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. Reginald is legally my dad, and he’s legally your dad, and so we share a dad. That makes us siblings.”

“Is a sibling better than a best friend?” Vanya asks after a long moment of silence.

Five doesn’t think so. He misses Emma. He misses his preschool. He misses his life, the life before the Academy. But Vanya looks so sad and pale that he hugs her again and says “Yeah, of course. We’re family.”

The others tolerate him in varied amounts. Luther thinks he’s dumb because he’s always mean to Reginald. Five thinks Luther is dumb, and he’s definitely right. Allison constantly bugs him for information about what she terms “the outside world” and Five has told her about birthday parties at least a dozen times and she still looks wistful and asks him to tell her about them again.

(They turn eight and Five produces a paper crown for his sister because she looked so wistful when he described Emma’s birthday tiara. Allison wears it until Reginald snaps at her to get rid of it, but Five sees her tuck it in the waistband of her skirt rather than throw it away.)

When Reginald snaps at Diego for his stutter, Five snarls and snaps back, getting between the man and his new brother and yelling because he knows that’s not how you help kids! Yelling doesn’t help! His teacher said so! And his mama!

Diego is never particularly thankful for his interference, but Five doesn’t care. 

Five is nine and he jumps into the mausoleum with Klaus and holds his most fragile brother and snarls, threatens to run away. To take Klaus and just go, that they’d go to Five’s mother and she would take them away from Reginald and this place and - 

Klaus always buries himself into Five’s side with his hands over his ears until the morning when Five either jumps away or glares with furious eyes at Reginald even when he’s punished after.

He’s nine when he gets into a screaming match with Diego who says that Five isn’t one of them that he has his mother and if he had the chance he would abandon them in a heartbeat.

Reginald threatens to cut off his mother’s visits if he finds Five interfering with “Number Four’s training” one more time.

Five looks at Klaus, who is his brother. Who is frail and skinny and pale with dark bags underneath his eyes.

Reginald looks satisfied because Five has always backed down before when his mother is threatened. It’s his ultimate trump card.

Five is so very very tired of his mother being used against him. And he loves Klaus. And these kids, they are his siblings. (He tries not to think about the fact that next year he’ll have officially been here just as long as he was with his mother. He hates it.)

Reginald finds Five in the mausoleum with cobwebs in his hair and his brother against his side and a glare on his face and Reginald forbids his next visit with his mother.

Five keeps jumping into the mausoleum. Klaus looks at him with wonder in his eyes and Five pries up the floorboard that hides Doggy (because even after Reginald found a better way to threaten him, he remembers) and cries himself to sleep. 

“You chose us.” Ben states instead of asks, very quietly, when they’re studying together. 

“My mother can look after herself.” Five says stiffly, not taking his eyes off the page. “Klaus can’t.”

Ben doesn’t say anything more, but Five feels eyes on his back for a good long while after that.

When Five is ten, they debut for the first time. They go to the bank, and stop the robbers.

(“We can’t send Ben in,” Five insists, “They’ll die!”

“They’re robbers.” Luther scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re still people.” Five insists. “You definitely aren’t supposed to kill people. It’s a law.”

“Shut up, Five.” Diego says grouchily, “We just need to get this over with.”

“Dad’ll be pissed off if we let any of them escape.” Allison says, and the whole group goes quiet as they consider their father’s disappointed fury.

“I’ll go.” Ben mutters reluctantly, and Five tries to meet his eyes but the other boy slips into the vault before he can. The group stands silently as they listen to the screams and watch the blood splatter.

“This is wrong.” Five whispers.

“This is how it is.” Klaus whispers back, sounding defeated.

They don’t talk about it, after.)

Five smiles for the camera and lets Klaus lean on his shoulder and steals a thing of tissues from a reporter’s purse and uses them to wipe more of the blood from Ben’s face with a tight smile and the world goes on.

(He doesn’t know his mother watched. Doesn’t know the fury she flew into. Her son was supposed to be safe - he was supposed to be at a school. Why the fuck was he stopping a bank robbery like some kind of little child soldier?

She becomes a problem. And Reginald can be awfully practical about problems.)

Five is ten-and-a-half and he hasn’t seen his mother in a year and a half. And he’s tired and he’s rebellious so one day he sneaks out and finds a pay phone and the only reason he remembers his number is because his mother made him memorize it and quizzed him frequently.

(He’d gotten lost so often from wandering away and accidentally jumping. His rules were to approach either women with children or people who worked wherever and ask them to call her.)

Except the call can’t connect. Disconnected number. 

Five frowns, and end up doing some research which involves massive lies to the library, and then he has a picture of a newspaper obituary in his hands and a hole in his heart.

Car accident, the paper says.

Five crumbles it up, and then smoothes it out again because there’s a picture of his mother next to the article and Five doesn’t have any pictures of his mother. So he hides it under the floorboards next to Doggy and cries himself to sleep and then he gets up and does his training and doesn’t talk about it.

He doesn’t tell his siblings. Not even when Luther blows up and calls him a stuck up brat who can go cry to his mommy if he think it’s so bad here. Not even when Klaus jokes about running away with a cracking voice in the mausoleum, not really jokes at all. Not even when Vanya asked him for another of his mother’s stories and he started crying in the middle of them. He’d just told her it had been a hard day of training.

(Vanya never asks him questions if he mentions training. He feels bad about lying to her and using it as an excuse but...)

He waits for Reginald to tell him. He waits, because surely someone would tell him that his mother is dead. He’s her son. 

Reginald never tells him. He tells Five that he’s bad and still hasn’t earned back his visiting privileges. Five hates him so much. So so much. 

Five is twelve-years-old and he is sprawled across Vanya’s bed after a particularly brutal day of training. Reginald has been trying to overtrain Five the day before he puts Klaus in the mausoleum overnight so that Five will be too tired to jump in. It doesn’t work, but it’s an exhausting enough punishment. 

“I wish I didn’t have powers.” He tells Vanya.

“No you don’t.” Vanya says back fiercely, fists clenching in her blankets, “Not having powers sucks.”

Five tilts his head and looks at her, “No.” He says gently, “No one knew I had powers. And I was loved. I was so loved, Vanya.”

“Stop it.” Vanya says, face tight. “If you were so loved, why did she leave you here?”

And Five opens his mouth and nothing comes out, because it hurts. 

“You don’t wish you had powers, Vanya.” Five tells her finally, and there are tears in his eyes but he’s looking at the ceiling not at her so it doesn’t matter. “You wish you had a family. A proper family. Not this - this stupid academy. I hate it. I hate it here.”

“Don’t call it stupid.” Vanya says, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have a family and we just - we just have the academy, okay? So don’t call it stupid.”

“We deserve better. We deserve a childhood.”

“We have a childhood.” Vanya scowls, “Just because it’s not as nice as yours was or whatever - ”

“This is my childhood, Vanya.” Five snarls, propping himself up to face her, “I know you all think I’m so spoiled and - and I’m not one of you or whatever, but I came here when I was five. My memories of before - Vanya they’re fading. I couldn’t pick Emma out of a crowd if I tried. I’ve been here for years longer than I was ever there, and it’s not fair.”

“You still have a mother - ”

“No I don’t.” Five cuts her off, his voice ice. Vanya’s eyes are wide, startled by his tone. “Vanya, look around you. When was the last time I saw my mother?”

Vanya’s lip wobbles as she realized she can’t remember.

“It’s been three years.” Five tells her, eyes hard and cold and angry, “She’s gone. I made a choice, and I chose you. I chose the academy. Because despite everything, I love you guys. You’re my siblings, even if sometimes you don’t act like it.”

“Five - ” Vanya tries.

“No.” Five cuts her off, hopping off the bed and shaking his head, “I’m going to - I’m going to go to my room. You get some more practice in or something. I think Pogo picked out this piece and you know what he’s like.”

He doesn’t let her get a word in before he jumps up to his room.

Five is twelve when he stands in front of Reginald and says “I’m not using my powers anymore.”

“You have an assignment.” Reginald says severely.

“No.” Five refuses politely, and his family watches with wide eyes from the sidelines. The only family he has left. “I’ve got control now. I’ve decided I’m going to be normal now.”

Reginald locks Klaus is the mausoleum early and watches with unimpressed eyes as Five picks the lock and strolls in. 

Reginald handcuffs Five to a rail. Five plucks a paperclip from his sock and picks those as well.

Reginald locks Five in a room from the outside and tells him that he’ll get dinner when he jumps out. 

Five opens the window and shimmies down the drainpipe and has to be picked up at Griddy’s where he’s charmed the owner out of a free doughnut and hot chocolate with a sob story about school bullies to explain his grubby appearance (the shimmy down the drainpipe hadn’t exactly been graceful. or clean.)

He locks Five in the basement in a weird room that’s soundproofed. Five tries to hunger strike but - it’s so quiet. He can hear the sound of his own heartbeat. He can’t stand it. It’s like the room was made specifically to torture him.

(He looks at the little bed in the room. The sheets were dusty. This room has been around for a very long time. He wonders who it’s for, Allison, perhaps? She’s always been fairly obedient, maybe this is the reason why.)

He jumps out on the second day, and doesn’t talk to anybody. Reginald is smug like the cat the got the canary, and Five hates it.

Then Five is messing around, and something slots into place, and he realizes - oh, he might be able to time travel. 

Once he figures it out, he’s desperate. He’ll save his siblings that way. He’ll take the to a time where Reginald can’t get them. They’ll be out of reach.

(maybe - maybe they can travel back in time. maybe he can save his mother -)

Five is thirteen-years-old when he time travels for the first time. When he runs out of the house like he’s done so very many times before, except he’s angry and frustrated and he’d tried to bait Reginald into telling him his mother’s dead again and he hadn’t and - 

Five jumps. It’s snowing. He did it. He jumps again, laughing. He jumps again - 

Ash.

He tries to jump, but his power fizzles out. He calls for his siblings. No one answers. He finds the academy - rubble.

So Five lives in the apocalypse. He tries to go home, he does. He buries his siblings as well as he can. He wanders around gathering food and textbooks. He picks up a mannequin and names it Dolores.

(He searches the rubble of the academy, but he can’t find Doggy or the picture of his mother. Either they were found and removed years ago, or they’re buried beneath too much rubble. Five doesn’t know.)

 He takes Dolores on a road trip. He tells her it’s to see if they can find any people, any survivors.

he arrives in a graveyard and traces his mother’s name with trembling fingers. this is the first time he’s been to visit her grave. this is the first time he’s seen her in four years.

So he survives. He grows up, desperately clinging to life by his fingernails. He does complex calculations, wondering what his mother would think of him now.

He meets the Handler. He becomes an assassin.

(he’s glad his mother is dead, so that she will never see what he has become.)

And then one day, he gets home. He falls into the courtyard, and looks at the faces of his grown up siblings and - 

(he’s so tired of losing people. he’s so tired of being taken away from his family.)

He hops to Griddy’s, he gets into a fight with assassins, he cuts a tracker from his arm, and he goes to Vanya’s apartment.

And he’s Five, but he’s also Fievel. And somewhere inside he’s still that same kid who loved his mother and wanted her to fix thing, who trusted her even though she didn’t have powers. His mother wasn’t ordinary, and he’s never seen Vanya as such.

So he asks her for her help.

(Later, she tells him that they hunted down his mother when they were fifteen, because they’d been absolutely convinced he’d just run away and gone back to herno matter how much Reginald insisted he was dead.

That’s when they found out about her death. Her date of death.

“I’m so sorry, Five.” Vanya says, tears in her eyes as the whole family shuffles and looks away.

And Five puts his hand on Vanya’s. “I knew, Van.”

Her head snaps up. Klaus blurts out a what in the background.

Five shrugs, “I’ve known since we were ten. It’s okay.”)

Five sends Vanya to investigate the eye. 

(He asks Klaus - “Have you - ”

“No.” Klaus says instantly, shaking his head. He knows what Five is asking. 

Five considers that answer, then shrugs. He’s not sure if it would be better or worse for his mother to be one of the ghosts that tormented Klaus. “After I - after, did dad get worse?”

“Yeah.” Klaus says simply, because it’s true.

Five hadn’t been there to jump into the mausoleum and try and shield his brother from invisible enemies. 

“I’m sorry.” Five says quietly.

“Me too.”)

Vanya comes back and the eye hasn’t been made yet. Five swears, loudly and at length.

And maybe in another world Five snaps at Klaus and denies Vanya and goes off on his own and ignores Allison but - 

In this one, Five was the only kid who not only didn’t care that Vanya was ‘ordinary’ but actively challenged her on it. Who told her in no uncertain terms that he was jealous of her. 

(It’s a very different book that comes out.)

In this world, Five shielded Klaus and challenged Reginald. He jumped into the mausoleum and hugged his brother and, most importantly, he chose Klaus over his mother. And Klaus knows that. Klaus has... a lot of loyalty to Five, and even though he’d though for a long time that Five abandoned him... he knows better now and he feels - he feels guilty for doubting his brother. That guilt may or may not manifest in being a bit clingy.

In this world, Allison thought Five was fascinating because he’d been in the real world. He’d been to real school. She remembers him telling her about his mother, about trips to the zoo and the museums and the birthday parties, about sleepovers and playdates and parks.

(She has a daughter, and she takes Claire to the children’s museums and to zoos. She tries her best for her daughter and hears Five’s voice telling stories in her ears. She does her best to be a good mother, she tries so hard.)

It’s a slightly more united family that stands against the apocalypse.

But there’s always something with them, isn’t there?

“Don’t you know?” The Handler says, with her perfect lipstick smile, “I don’t have to win, I just have to take you out of the game. Your weak spot has always been the same, hasn’t it?”

“You don’t have shit.” Five says, unimpressed. “My family is fine.”

“Are you so sure about that, Fievel?”

(Five already chose his siblings over his mother the first time. The choice is... much more difficult the second time.)

[harryspet]

A Wife’s Duty [1] h.s.

[Warning] this is inspired by the handmaid’s tale (i know thats f’d up but this is fiction deal with it), dubcon (borderline noncon), commander x wife, harry styles x named reader, sexy stuff

In which she is bound to harry for life and tasked with the honor of being the wife of a commander and bearing his children.

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

She didn’t see her husband’s face until the day of their wedding and, even then, it wasn’t a special ceremony of love and devotion. 

She was standing in a line of girls, twelve on either side of her, and they were all to be wed together. All of them were lucky. They were young, beautiful and fertile which meant they could be saved from the fate of becoming Handmaiden’s. However, they were still married off and expected to bear many children for their commander husbands. 

Loyal and subservient. Quiet and modest. At least, that's the way they interpreted God’s scripture. 

As her new husband lifted her veil, she felt as if she may vomit. She had heard stories, horrible stories, of commander’s abusing their wives. She even heard one girl was beaten to death after suffering from a miscarriage. The commander was reprimanded, of course, but the chance of her husband being a cruel man was frightening. 

He wasn’t what she expected. Her lips pressed into a small, nervous smile as she looked him over. His green eyes were piercing, maybe due to the blinding lights of the large stadium they were in, and his lips soft looking and pink. He was young, much older than her, but younger than she expected. 

She looked down quickly, feeling his gaze pierce into her. He dressed in a black, like the rest of the commanders, but it seemed he had a lot of awards and honors decorating his chest. It seemed he was accomplished, to say the least, but, as her eyes roamed a bit lower, she noticed the tattoos on his hands. 

She had always been taught that marking your body in that way was sinful yet here he stood, small tattoos decorating his hands, and yet he was a high ranking commander. 

The priest went on and it was only then that she realized she had tuned out the readings. “God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them, saying: "Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and all the living things that move on the earth." She only looked up again when her husband reached out to slide a ring onto her finger. It was relatively simple but the diamond perched in the middle screamed wealthy.

She thought for a moment that she was lucky but that faded quickly. 

His hands were rough and calloused and he coughed awkwardly when his hands lingered a little too long on hers. 

“For commanders and wives ., who begin their married life together this day. May they experience the love of God, the support of family and friends, and the blessings of children. We pray to the Lord.”

“Amen,” All the couples said in unison and it was first she heard his first. It was deep and certain. Like he knew this was inevitable just like she had. Like he had no choice but accepting things made it easier than fighting. And then it was done and her life was in his hands. The extent of her freedom would start and end with him.

They interlaced their arms, clapping roared through the stadium, and then she was being escorted away. A lot of the girls waved to their families, tears of joy dripping from their eyes. Their lives finally had a purpose. Her real family was gone, she was ripped away from them because they were poor and couldn’t afford to fight the government. 

He was her family. And she didn’t even know his name. 

+

He sat across from her in the black car they rode in. His hands sat awkwardly in his lap, as if he normally didn’t like being chauffeured around, and wished he was in control of the car. She nervously played with the folds of her white dress as she waited for him to say something - anything. 

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a ringing phone. He eyed her carefully as he reached into his black jacket to take the call. A phone? To have one he must be very important. 

“Commander Styles,” He answered, his voice gruff, “I’ll be in Redwick-” he checked his watch, “in an hour. But I won’t be able to meet with you tonight.”

Tonight. She swallowed. He probably wanted to consummate their marriage. Of course, he did. That was the whole point of this and she’d be stupid to think otherwise. 

“I can meet with you sometime tomorrow. I’m eager to discuss those plans as well. I wasn’t expecting so much disagreement on the issue. If you give Thomas a call, he can fit you into my schedule….Yes, of course . . . May the lord be with you. Goodnight,” He sighed deeply as he hung up and then caught me staring. 

“Commander Styles?” She asked timidly. At the sound of her voice, his lips seemed to push into a thin line of frustration. She worried for a moment that she had already broken a rule. 

“Harry, my name is Harry, Ember.”

She stared, blinking, “Y-You know my name?”

“I dislike surprises,” He answered simply, only leaving it to my imagination to decide what exactly he meant by that. He leaned back, letting one of his hands rest behind the headrest of the other seat, as he stared out the window. 

Redwick was a decently far from the capital, that much she knew, and part of her was worried. She had never left the capital before and was warned that there were large lands of waste between cities, where captured rebels were forced into labor camps. She got the courage to look out the window about thirty minutes into the drive and, although she saw no rebels, she saw wasteland. It was like a red desert where the grass no longer grew and the rusting building seemed to fall into the dust. 

Something about it felt peaceful and she felt a bit sick for thinking that way. She looked back down at her lap for the rest of the drive. 

When they finally entered the city of Redwick, she was itching to get out of the suffocating car. Harry seemed to suck up all of the air with his commanding presence. It was a suburban town, a contrast to the Capital, and each of the houses they passed had at least a hundred acres to their own. Harry’s home was no different, the road leading to his estate was a three minute drive on it’s own. It was a spectacular home but she was surprised how quaint it was. It was ivory and foliage crawled up all sides of it which she thought gave it an interesting character. 

She stared as he opened the door for her and offered her a hand so she crawled out without tripping over her dress. His focus wasn’t on her long before he met the driver on the other side of the car, and she assumed he handed him his payment. 

“Shall we?” He finally asked, holding a hand out for me to step forward. 

She looked around one more time at the rolling grass hills, “There’s so much . . . space,” She commented, stepping towards the front door, “It’s beautiful here, Commander Styles.”

He opened the black door, “A family heirloom,” He said curtly.

A small gasp left her lips as she admired the giant chandelier that hung in the foyer, “It’s lovely, Harry.”

“You haven’t even seen the rest of the house, Ember,” He spoke, closing the door and wrapping his hands behind his back. He began showing her around, letting her ooh and awe at everything she thought was cool. She really hasn’t gotten out much, he thought, watching her hold an elephant figurine sitting on the fireplace. 

“You grew up here?” She asked and he only nodded. He didn’t seem to want to discuss it further. 

Okay, she thought, it didn’t seem like he was one for small talk.

Then another call interrupted them. He quickly told her to go into the kitchen so Imogene could make her some dinner.

+

After eating dinner, she didn’t think she’d see Commander Styles for the rest of the night. It was already approaching midnight, Imogene had shown her to a room and gave her clothes to sleep in. She was laying in bed, a white long sleeved nightgown covering her body, not able to sleep. 

She listened to the sound of cicadas outside of her window and closed her eyes every few minutes, trying to find sleep. 

Her door slowly opened and she perked up, sitting up on her elbows. Harry appeared, not meeting her eyes immediately, “Were you sleeping?” He asked in a quiet and cold voice. He leaned over to turn on the lamp light on the bedside table. 

She shook her head immediately and he took a breath before asking, “Are you a virgin?”

“Of course,” she said, as if she was offended as the implication that she might not be, “Of course, Harry. I assure you that I-”

He interrupted before she could ramble, “Lay back down,” He ordered her and her heart stopped. She was trying to read the emotion in his eyes but couldn’t. Her heart pounded. 

She did as he said, unsure of where to put her hands or where exactly to look. She kept her hands to her side and stared up at the ceiling. From the corner of her eyes, she could tell he was undressing. 

Harry rounded the bed to the other side before climbing into the large bed. “You look like a corpse,” He commented. He moved to her side and she noticed he was now only wearing a pair of briefs. His tattoos were on display, a butterfly decorating his chest.

“I-I’m sorry,” She spoke, her bottom lip shaking, confronting her fear and finally looking him in the eyes. He snorted at that. 

“Relax,” He told her, “You want to please your husband, don’t you?”

She nodded before he continued, “Then relax, Ember,” He leaned in to kiss her and she was frozen for a moment, his stubble scratching her skin. He moved from her lips to the side of her chin and down to her neck. That’s when a yelp escaped her mouth as he kissed the sensitive parts of her neck. She didn’t know that area was even touched during sex. 

“God first and then me, do you understand?”

She nodded, whimpering, as the kisses traced her collarbones. His tattooed hand traced the length of her silk gown until it reached between her legs. She felt his fingers slip between the fabric of her panties. His finger touched the small bulb between her lips and a jolt went through her.

“Harry-” He shushed her. He stopped with his kisses and started to use his own legs to spread hers. She felt open, completely exposed. Her eyes were wide. It was nothing like what she had expected. He rubbed her there, in fast and then slow circles and she moaned into his mouth. 

She kissed him back now, though she wasn’t sure what she was doing, she fell into his rhythm. As his lips left hers, he moved in between her legs, fully spreading her and she expected for the pain to begin but Harry’s lips traveled further. He lifted her gown, kissing between her breast and then her naval until he got much lower. 

As his own mouth pressed against her sex, she yelped, pushing herself away from him until her back hit the headboard, “Harry, I don’t think-” He gave her a frustrated look, “You shouldn’t, I-I mean, we shouldn’t do that. That’s not the way-”

He rested on his knees, grabbing her waist and lifting her until her head fell roughly back where it was. “I will show you the way, little one. You don’t get to decide what I should and shouldn’t do, understand?”

She nodded eagerly, fear in her eyes, and she answered, “Y-Yes.”

“Yes, Commander,” He corrected and then she repeated the words back to him. He smirked, he liked when she called him Commander. 

Ember gripped the sheets so tightly that she thought she might rip them. With only thirty seconds of his mouth on her sex, her first orgasm was ripping through her body. He hadn’t even planned to keep going but, knowing she was so sensitive, he couldn’t help but try to get another one out of her. And then another. “Please, Harry- Commander, please! I can’t-” She was begging, her body shaking, as she tried to escape him. 

Perhaps he was being greedy. He relented after the third one, kissing up her body again and he didn’t give her much time to rest before he began to sheathe himself inside of her. She gripped his back, surely leaving scratch marks as he carefully entered her. 

“Say you want my children, Ember.” 

“I-I want your children, Commander.”

“Say you’re mine.”

She looked into his eyes, into the unknown, and knew things would never be the same again. She belonged to him now and only death could change that, 

“I’m yours, Commander.”

And his head tilted back in ecstasy.

+

part two of A Wife’s Duty is posted! check out my #masterlist for more of my works

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/81416395

Chapter 74

They caught Nick. They came from all sides, eventually overwhelming him. He was already past various blows with their truncheons when one of them yelled: “Don't kill him! We need him alive!” “Let me go! I'm not Foggy Jack!”, Nick shouted, but he only received another blow for that. “What do we need him for?”, one of the Bobbies snarled. “Well, as proof?”, his colleague argued. “Sure, we can kill him now and tell everyone we caught Foggy Jack, but nobody's gonna believe us! When we bring him back alive, I bet we'll get a shiny medal!” “But I'm not...Foggy Jack!”, Nick tried again, gasping for air. “I'm Nick Lightbearer!” The Bobbies broke out in laughter. “Sure, and I'm the King of England”, said the one who stood closest to him. “Don't you recognise my voice?” “All I'm hearing is some pathetic whining of a captured criminal.” “I have to speak to Constable Hunt! He'll recognise me!” “You're not quite in the position to make demands!” “Come on! One of you should identify me!” Nick looked around. “Constable Rowley! Constable Whistler!, he blurted out. “You know me! Haven't I been always good to you?” The Constables he called shoved the others aside to look at him, but their faces weren't friendly.

“You fucked us over, that's what you did! Made us look quite stupid for thinking you've been stumbling around drunk in all these nights”, Constable Rowley spat. “But tonight you went too far!” “It was about time you snap”, Whistler added. “Besides, Constable Hunt is so stoned he'd even take a flowerpot for Nick Lightbearer. Whatever you drugged him with, it backfired!” “That wasn't me! The other one is Foggy Jack!” “How convenient. The one who's dead and can't defend himself!” “You have to make sure he's really dead!”, Nick begged. “No worries, we take care of everything, especially of you, celebrity”, the closest Bobby said smirking and ended the argument with a dose of knockout drops he drove into Nick's right upper arm.

Nick woke up in a prison for the second time in his life. Now it didn't look like he'd get off lightly. His first reaction was to rattle at the bars of his cell and call out for the Constables. When a tall man in a red uniform walked into his direction, he backed away a little. “What's up, little one? Need attention?”, the Bobby asked, playing with his electric truncheon. “You have to hear me out! I'm not Foggy Jack!”, Nick  continued to beg. “I see, you're our main attraction”, the tall man said quietly, stepping closer to the bars. “Did you find the other one? James? Is he...?” Nick gulped, avoiding the Constable's piercing gaze. “This is a sad day for Wellington Wells and a sad day for us Constables”, the Bobby began lamenting. “You brought great misery upon us all and we have the excruciating task of spreading the news.” “But I'm not Foggy Jack...”, Nick repeated in despair. “I'm...” But the man interrupted him. “Do you believe we can tell the horrible truth to our orderly citizens? Break their hearts like that and tell them that their most beloved idol has turned into their worst enemy? Can we allow the smartest of them to ask questions? Can we afford to make all the others unhappy? No, you see, we can't. It should've never been revealed. You should've never interfered.” Nick was confused. "But I..."

"Oh, don't worry, we won't put you to shame. Actually, it's easy. Uncle Jack went on holiday, Nick Lightbearer too and their names remain untainted. Nobody would want it any other way. But you...you're still here! You'll be the town's next great news! Your name is Norbert Pickles, right? Pays off to read the gossip magazines...You'll be a splendid Foggy Jack! Just try to look a tad bit guilty when you're being hanged." "...hanged?" The man's mocking grin turned wider. "Remind yourself, we're doing you a favour. You should be happy that we stopped you." "You know I'm innocent! You can't do this to me!" "Innocent, ey?" The Bobby laughed. "Think again, Mr. Pickles! We'd keep you anyway and let you rot in this cell. Instead, you get one last fancy show for yourself! You won't be able to hear the applause afterwards, but...you know what it sounds like...just imagine it." The Bobby continued to laugh, turned his back on Nick and vanished into the corridor.

Nick watched him go, his fingers still cramped around the bars. The Bobby's laughter faded away, leaving room for gloomy silence. Nick was out of words. He had no strength left to scream. Letting go of the bars, he slumped back on the plank bed. Wiping his face, he noticed he was still wearing the silver mask. He removed it and stared at it in disbelief. Foggy Jack. The way he had accepted it without asking questions... He had wanted it.

Nick dashed it against the brick wall. It made a little crack, not enough to satisfy him. Shame and regret spread in his chest. And disappointment. The friend he had met once in a lonely night, to whom he had opened his heart...he had lied to him, used him... Nick couldn't bear how stupid he had been. It made sense now. His mind had tried to warn him by showing him memories, but he had never understood. It had felt so good to be near James. The drug had blurred his sense. And then one thing had led to the other. Nick had stopped asking questions. Even now he didn't see everything clear, but he assumed things...He recalled the most important memories.

They made him shiver. Only a few hours ago he would've done it again. He had been so sure that this was the only way. He had even been looking forward to finally try out his gift. He still knew how he would've done it, how he would've moved the blade...If the Constable hadn't interrupted him... Nick broke out in tears and hated himself for it. He didn't want to cry for himself. He didn't deserve it. And still, he couldn't help but to feel pity for his former self that he had betrayed. He had never wanted any of this! He had always wanted to make other people happy, and to be loved in return. Yeah, he had also wanted to be famous, but not for hurting people. Nick didn't know what he regretted most. His stupidity or his lies.

Now he'll end in shame, hated and feared, hanged in public and sneered at by the masses. It was the worst show he could imagine and it would also drag his real name through the muck, the only part of his personality that was still of value. Memories overwhelmed him, scenes of former innocence, in the park with his first guitar, in the shop with Bates who had always welcomed him until he had fucked it up...He was glad to remember his old life again, but now it was hard to handle the memories.

Nick pulled down his wig and threw it away without giving it a glance. A crying fit shook him until he didn't even have enough energy to cry.

Perhaps he should be thankful that it ended, he then thought, lying on the plank. All the pain he had caused. It would be over. He should've died in his bathtub with the power cell. That would've saved other lives. Poor Arthur, having been entangled in all this... Nick comforted himself with the thought that Arthur was free now. He couldn't claim to be happy that his former lover ran away from him, but he understood. It hurt to remember how Arthur had yelled at him with this angry and panic-stricken expression, how he pushed him away. But he escaped James' clutches like that, he would survive. And he himself would be over it soon...

Nick wondered if the band would watch him too. He could imagine the whole town coming to see Foggy Jack hang. It hurt to imagine. Perhaps they'd think it's a different Norbert Pickles, not theirs, he mused. If they even thought much. Nick wished they would keep him in better memory, but there was still a tiny chance that they would. If his execution was long forgotten, they wouldn't link Foggy Jack to their old friend Norbert, right? A deep sigh escaped Nick. Sadly, it was time to leave the afterworld to it's own devices.

After all, he had gotten the chance to put a few things right, to find his friends again and be a part of the Make Believes for one last time. He couldn't prevent that they'd forget him, but on the contrary, nobody could take the good memories from him again. Nick even smiled a little, thinking about the excessive life he had led. He'd like to see anyone else do that!

Arthur didn't look behind once. He ran back to the Parade District and struggled his way through it. It was easier now. The Wellies were all sloshed enough to not pay attention anymore. Most of them were still trying to dance, some of them sang off-tune. They had parted into small groups and didn't care about who passed by. Like this, the night faded away and the next day came. Nobody made a move to get back to the usual business. The whole town was in trance. Drunken, stoned, tired. Arthur did everything in a hurry and didn't even make time to rejoice when he finally entered the rail tunnels.

He walked through the building, or rather climbed through the maze that the building had become in time. He felt like he had entered a different world. It was so quiet. His ears were still ringing from the noise in the town and suddenly all he heard were his own footsteps echoing from the empty, dirty walls. The emptiness felt  eerie. Arthur concluded that the Bobbies had abandoned their shifts for this special occasion. Nobody cared about Skippers as long as they could stuff their bellies or get high from Coconut Joy. After all, it was the biggest festival of the year. Arthur couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Finally standing on Britannia Bridge, he had to pause. He felt the cold wind running through his hair. Where did the wind suddenly come from? Had it been so chill in the town too? Arthur only now noticed something as usual as the weather. And the smell...was that the ocean? Arthur hadn't really paid attention to smells since his first shock from withdrawal. After getting a noseful of motilene, dead rats, mould and chemical waste he had gone numb. But this...Arthur couldn't remember smelling this in the Garden District. At his favourite place, the cliff... This was different. He was so close to the water. He could also hear it hiss and fume. It was quite loud. Walking closer to the balustrade, he could even see it. The stone felt cold and wet. Did Bobbies patrol here without noticing all this? The moonlight reflected in the water. Arthur had the feeling that even the moon was closer here. The sky was speckled with stars. It looked much clearer without the motilene fog. As if he could touch it. It was like the sky had arranged a welcoming committee for a petty Skipper like him.

Arthur turned his gaze, following the course of the bridge. He was surprised about how far it went. It showed him how tiny and narrow the town was, with all it's contorted alleys that all went in a circle. Arthur wondered how long it would take to cross it. The bridge faded into the dark horizon. And there, wrapped in blackness, lay the mainland. It looked so calm, untouched by all the madness. Did they know what happened here? And what happened to them? Arthur had never had the time to ponder over what the war had done to the rest of the world. But judging by the view he was provided, he thought they were better off.

Arthur made his first steps along the bridge. Here as well, he could hear his own footsteps. They mixed into the rushing of the ocean. “I'll be right with you, Percy...”, he whispered, as if he had to bolster himself up. “I'm almost there...”

He didn't get an answer. Suddenly, Arthur's heart sunk. He was disappointed, as if the ocean, the bridge or the moon were supposed to support him. Arthur's footsteps became slower, until he finally came to a halt. The balustrade had to stabilise him again. He didn't feel it's cold as intensely as before, because his own hands were cold now. Arthur leaned over it, sucking in the air. He looked up to the sky. What was happening to him? That was all he wanted. The freedom. The calm. But he didn't feel free. He felt awful.

“Percy, I...”, he began. The howling wind interrupted him. “Arthur!”, he heard Percy shout in fear. “Arthur, where are you?” I have to go, Arthur told himself. He forced himself to go on, left the supporting handrail and struggled his way forward. “Arthur!” He heard it again. But this time, it was a different voice. Arthur froze, staring at the wide horizon, as if he could hold onto it. The view was beautiful, a symphony of light and dark. Auspicious. It must be wonderful to join it.

But it wasn't meant to be, Arthur thought. Not for him.

He turned around and made a step. Then another.

Arthur ran back the entire way, possessed by only one thought. He didn't pay attention to how the ocean fell silent, how the fresh smell of salt in the air vanished and made room for the usual mould. He didn't look at the various desperate scribbles at the walls, messages from former Downers that had tried to escape, not at the faded poster of Uncle Jack, explaining that all Skippers were crazy. He was highly focused when he entered the town again and sneaked through the district. Still, nobody noticed him. The whole town was sloshed and sleeping and Arthur cold move freely.

He stopped at a big, unpleasant looking brick building to check the situation. It seemed like here of all places the town was still in order. A Bobby in red uniform sat at a counter and looked very awake. He also fought for staying awake. Arthur saw him slapping his own face and almost chuckled at it. What a shame that some Bobbies still kept their principles.

“What do you want?”, the man asked grumpily. “Visiting hours are in the afternoon.” “Wouldn't it be too late then?”, Arthur said mysteriously as if they shared a secret. “Too late for what?” The Bobby only looked warier. “Well...I heard you made a good catch last night.” “Did you?” The Bobby was unimpressed. “I still don't see why that's your business. Come back in the afternoon like everyone else and see if you're lucky.” “Perhaps this explains why I'm in a hurry...” Arthur held out his press pass. "This is the last chance to get anything useful out of him. People would die to read more about him...I mean, they don't die anymore...weird choice of words there..."

"'O' Courant, ey?” The Bobby read the pass. “Excuse me Sir, but our special guest isn't available for interrogations by the public eye. It's too risky, you know? A very unpleasant experience." "So, you're afraid he might say something...inconvenient?" Arthur could watch the Bobby regret his words. "Er, no, no...of course not like that...but he's...er...sleeky. We shouldn't give him any options to cause havoc." "So, I better go and write about that instead...", Arthur thought out loud. The Bobby didn't look amused. "What are you implying?" "Just what I said. I can only tell the public what I'm hearing. And besides, you do want a big story on the most cheerful event right after Memorial Day, right? I need to give them a monster they can hate, and therefore celebrate it's end! If he's not the monster we all think he is, I better go and correct that image." The Bobby flared up. "You shut your goddamn mouth you...!" But he changed his mind right after and sat back down. His look turned benevolent. "My apologies, Sir...It's been a tough night...Your reasoning makes sense. I'll let you through, but it's at your own risk, are we clear?" "Crystal clear", Arthur said, eagerly to go on.

He entered the prison, looking into every corner because he didn't trust them. But nobody seemed to care about their guest. Bobbies at another counter focused on some papers. Or perhaps they only pretended to work. Arthur decided to ignore them in return and walked on by. When he descended a long and wide staircase that led deep into the dark core of the building, he realized that he needed help or else he'd wander around in here forever. Arthur regretted that he hadn't gotten a welcoming committee and now had to explain it all again. When he heard footsteps behind him, he decided to use the opportunity. Every Bobby was just as good. Arthur turned around and found three of them walking towards him.

“Mr. Hastings, I presume?”, one of them asked. Oh, there was his welcoming committee. Arthur affirmed shortly. "You shouldn't go alone, Sir”, one of the Constables said. He was a lot friendlier than the one at the entrance. “This building is quite the maze, you could get lost. Let us guide you to our special guest. He's lodged in a special place." Arthur saw that he had no choice anyway and went with the Bobbies, feeling uncomfortable in two ways. First, they made his plan more complicated and second, he didn't trust them one bit. He began to wonder if the Bobby at the entrance gave up to soon, if it all had been to easy. That was why he kept his distance for them. No chance to be drugged by surprise or quicky hit with a truncheon.

They descended more stairs and went along more dark hallways. This truly was a maze. Arthur was glad he had quite a good memory, because no one would guide him outside. His heart sunk when they stopped in front of an empty cell. "Where is he? Is it too late?" Arthur tried to sound not too worried. The Bobbies gave each other a look. Then they brought out their electric truncheons. "You're arrested, Mr. Hastings, for illegal investigation!" "This is ridiculous!", Arthur shouted out. "You better cooperate, Sir. See, it's not so bad. You'll have a nice cell for your own, we'll feed you daily and you'll have nothing to worry about ever again. You can even take Joy." The Bobbies came closer, herding him towards the cell. Arthur figured the Constable only bothered to argue with him because he thought this was a done deal. Three armed men and one helpless reporter.

They didn't expect him to through a Banger at them. The selfmade bomb exploded in their faces and when they fell, arms up to protect their faces, Arthur dashed at them. He took the truncheon of the first and let it clash against his head. The second grabbed him but Arthur kicked him in the stomach and got free. He needed two hits to take him down. The third was pulling himself up at the wall when Arthur turned to him. It was a dirty fight. The Bobby was disoriented and flailed around. He still had his truncheon and Arthur had to make sure he didn't get hit by accident. Arthur striked a blow on the other man's long legs and made him stumble, leaving his head unprotected for a second. Another hit against the neck later he lay on the ground, still mourning. Arthur used the chance and kneeled down on the man, fixing him in place.

"Where is he?", he hissed at him. "Where's Foggy Jack?" The Bobby frowned and turned his head away. Arthur shook him. "Tell me or I'll blow your lights out! Do you really want to die for this?" The Bobby winced, then he stuttered a descripiton: "He's in...block A...in the east wing...left from the entrance...five stairwells down...at the end of the hallway...left..." With that, he fell unconscious. Arthur went on, looking for any sign that pointed to the direction of block A, hoping he didn't have to go all the way back to the entrance hall. He found one and followed it, then hoping he would descent the right stairwell. All he could make out of the description was that they kept Nick in a cell very far down, probably the safest area. Arthur gulped. Descending into hell couldn't be more uncomfortable.

To avoid the Bobbies he crawled along the vents and pig pipes that came out of the wall here and there. It was more confusing to orientate this way but Arthur set all his trust in his intuition that had saved his life so many times by now. Five stairwells later he actually found a long hallway that he followed, viewing it from his high above position on a pipe. Then he had to leave it to go left, but he had to wait for another red Bobby to pass by before he could to that. The Bobby slowly strolled, whistleling a song. Arthur frowned. How could this man be so happy despite everything? All the suffering prisoners. They didn't even give them Joy. Arthur heard them beg for Joy or cry about their missing children. He understood Nick a bit more now. If he had the chance to open all cells he would use it and he'd be happy to watch the chaos unfold. When he finally went on, his heartbeat began to pound in his temples. He was craving to see him again but he was also afraid of the moment. And also, he was afraid that he had gone the wrong way. There were many empty cells in this hallway and Arthur wondered if it was even still in use.

One cell had a prisoner that made Arthur's heart miss a beat. He walked towards him with high hopes, because he had seen the person wearing a black suit. The man lay on his plank bed and stared at the wall with an empty expression. Arthur eyed his face and hair and saw nothing familiar in both. This man was probably here for a long time, considering how empty he was. Disappointed,  Arthur turned his gaze away and went on. He found more empty cells next to this and his heart sunk.

Suddenly, he heard a faint voice say his name. Arthur froze in his tracks and looked around. He saw that the man in the black suit had gotten up and clutched the bars. Arthur walked back to him, eyeing the prisoner up and down. When the man saw him from up close, his eyes widened. "Arthur?", he said again in disbelief. The voice didn't fit the image. "Nick?", Arthur asked, doubting. The other man seemed to notice something. He put a hand on his cheek. He was wearing no mask and he also wasn't wearing any facial hair other than a few stubbles. His hair was darker, shorter and an utter mess. It was lacking the caramel tone that Arthur adored so much. He also looked younger, despite being all pale, having dark rings under red eyes and being unshaven. It was his expression, his eyes that finally made Arthur see something familiar in him.

Nick blushed. "Yeah, it's me...If I knew you would come, I would've made my hair..." He gave a little adorable smile. Arthur melted. He reached out and put his hands on the other man's, so that both were grabbing the bars. "Nick!", he sighed. Nick's eyes watered again, but this time out of happiness. Simply feeling Arthur's hands on his was a gift from heaven. "Are you a prisoner too?", he asked. "No, I'm here for you...", Arthur answered, now recognizing and adoring the green eyes. Nick looked down as if he was flattered, smilling widely. "You came back for me?” “U-huh.” Arthur nodded happily. Nick palpated the other man's hands. “Do you have the key?" Arthur beamed at him. "Who the fuck needs a key?"

Arthur admitted to himself that causing an explosion in a prison full of enemies was a big risk, but it was simply what felt most satisfying. When the damn cell door blew up, deforming and screeching as if in pain and finally shattered on the floor, Arthur was about to dance with joy. Well, a second later it seemed like someone had had the same idea because they heard another massive explosion that even made the walls shake for a moment. "What the hell was that?", Nick gasped, looking up to the ceiling. "Not a part of my plan", Arthur assured him. "We better get out of here quickly."

They heard hasty footsteps and screams coming from the upper floors. Stairs were run up and doors slammed shut. However, Arthur sensed that their hurry wasn't directed at them. None of their footsteps came closer. Instead, Arthur and Nick approached them. They ran along the corridor without meeting a patrol. Then they reached the pipe that Arthur had climbed and for the first time Arthur doubted his plan. “It would be better if we...”, he said and pointed at the pipe. Looking at Nick, he hoped the man understood and wasn't too scared. Nick's gaze shortly wandered along the pipe, up to the ceiling. “Go ahead, I follow you”, he simply answered.

Relieved, Arthur started to climb. He kept looking back at Nick, checking how he was doing and offering help. Nick copied his every move without protesting and Arthur soon calmed down. They tracked through the prison as if they had been practising this for ages. They saw Bobbies running along, cussing or lamenting. None of them sounded like he knew what was going on. They only complained about the fuss. Also, none of the prisoners were free. They jeered at their guards, but it was obvious that this wasn't a revolution. Arthur felt sorry for that but he had no time to make any change.

A few floors later they could see the big staircase. Arthur gestured Nick to stop. Fuck in a bucket, Arthur thought. This didn't look good. Any and all Constables gathered here and lined up. Also Nick saw it. “Oh dear...I guess they won't let us pass for an autograph?” Arthur searched the staircase, finding out that they could climb on a ventilation shaft, even though they would be seen by everyone. It also meant that after climbing, they couldn't just get down from it and walk out. However, at the ceiling he detected something that looked like a hatch. He hoped he could trust his judgement at a long distance, knowing that he had no other chance anyway. “We have get up there”, he explained his plan to Nick. “Just try not to look down and don't get distracted.” Nick approved with a nod. “Okay.”

They ascended the shaft that provided more support than the greasy pipe. It didn't take long until a Bobby saw them. "Oi!", he cried out, pointing at them. "They escape!"  It didn't matter who "they" were, as long as they had someone they could blame all the chaos on. The Bobbies started to yell and reach out for the shaft, trying to climb on it. Arthur's heart skipped a beat when he saw that one of them climbed on another Constable's shoulders. "Don't panic, just climb a little faster", he said to Nick and fastened his own pace. He didn't imagine that a Bobby could get on the shaft and chase them down on it. Nick went along and tried to ignore the howling of his enemies. Soon, they had to step on the hands that reached the shaft, but that didn't stop the Bobbies from trying. Arthur had to go for drastic measures. "Hold on!", he said to Nick and threw a bomb right into the mob. The power sent them flying, slapping against the walls and each other. As funny as it looked, the show was accompanied by the sound of bones breaking. The Bobbies' yells of pain mixed with their howling and the smell of burned flesh spread in the air. It was a bloodbath.

Arthur now focused on the hatch. "We're almost there!", he shouted over the noise to bolster Nick up. Finally, they climbed up the ladder to the hatch. Arthur threw himself against it and was surprised by how easily it opened. He almost fell upwards and yelped. "What is it?", Nick asked fearfully. "Nothing, nothing, we're safe, just get out..." Arthur climbed up and crawled onto the cobblestone. Then he grabbed Nick by the arm to pull him out. "Holy shit!", Nick gasped right after landing on the cobblestone himself. Arthur turned his head to where Nick was looking. "What the...?" The town had changed completely. Houses and cars were burning, corpses lay on the street and some remaining Wellies ran around, wielding truncheons or frying pans, looking like they got into a fight. Perhaps this was the revolution. It could also be Coconut Joy at it's finest. "What happened?" Nick was confused. "I have no idea, but we should stay out of this at any cost. Follow me."

Nick didn't ask any further questions when they went on. They heard screams in the distance that made Arthur's hair stand on end and he begged inwardly that they didn't get into a fight. They ran through clouds of smoke, holding their breath. Turning a corner, the sight didn't get better. The district descendet into chaos. The former order didn't apply anymore, as all the TV screens were demolished and the drones lay on the ground, burning to ashes. There were no Constables, at least no living ones. Ripped banners and destroyed marked stalls were the remnants of the once happy festival. It looked like the Wastrels had taken over. “Liars!”,  was scribbled on a poster, right over the false smile of a model. “They were so small”, was painted on another house.

"They are off their Joy!", Arthur stated. "You were right! This town is falling apart!" Nick eyed the chaos with terror. They ran down the once glorious alley that led to the train station. It's door was open. Arthur had a bad feeling about having to fight through a bunch of hysterical Wellies in there, but he also admitted that it wasn't a surprise that others wanted to escape, too. They ran throught the open door, passed by the shredded poster of Uncle Jack and went on downstairs. Arthur calmed down a bit when they walked along the rails, towards their freedom. "This is the way out of town, right?", Nick asked after a while. "Yes", was all Arthur could say. Nick didn't answer. Arthur was already glad that he didn't protest. They began to hear muffled voices in the distance, as if there was a group of people nearby. "Oh, perfect", Arthur gasped. "Let's hope they're friendly." It didn't seem like it thought. They could hear yelling and running and things hitting other things. Arthur was about to discuss a plan with Nick when another sudden explosion shook the building. The walls gave in, the floor cracked open and the tunnel got filled with a thick plume of dust. It was impossible to see where to run. Nick and Arthur just held onto each other.

When the dust had set and it was silent again they opened their eyes. They were kneeling on the ground, embracing each other. Arthur let go first to climb up the debris, to see how bad it was. "No!", Arthur screamed at the mountain of rubble that blocked their way out. He tore at the chunks of wall, but they were too heavy to be moved by one person alone. "Nick, we need to do this together!" Nick quickly stood by his side and pulled at the chunk too. It didn't move. They were giving their best, but Arthur also knew that they both were exhausted. "Goddamnit, I wasted my last bomb on the Bobbies! We need to find another way!" Arthur let go and climbed back. "Arthur..." Nick's voice was quiet and consorting. "I think this is blocked, too." Arthur looked up and saw the tunnel being clogged up by debris. "No...", he gasped and searched the other walls for a way out. A vent, a pipe, a hole, just something. Nick looked around on the other side. But no matter how throroughly they searched, the wall didn't grant them their wish.

"So this is it?", Arthur yelled, punching the wall with his fist. "This is how it ends? I wanted to save you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you! This isn't fair! Nothing is ever fair in my life!" He slumped down on a chunk. He thought about Percy, who he had failed to protect, who would now never know that his brother still cared about him, he thought about Sally who he had driven out of his house for something that hadn't been her fault. He saw how he had met her again, scolding her instead of saying sorry, how he had refused to help her when she had needed it the most. And how he had abandoned Nick, left him to deal with this insane killer. If he had taken Nick with him at his first escape, they would be on the mainland now, being free, viewing the stars together... Arthur's eyes welled up. "Why am I such a failure?", he shouted out, looking at the ceiling as if there was a god to answer him. The tears broke loose and made him huddle up, being too embarassed to look at Nick anyway.

Nick walked over to his desperate, sobbing lover and sat down next to him. Soon, Arthur was wrapped into a caressing embrace. "You did save me, Arthur", Nick whispered to him. "From being hanged in public. From being insulted, pelted with trash and spit on. From having the town dance on my grave..." A little rumble in the distance made him look up. However, nothing but silence followed it. "You will still die here...", Arthur rasped. "You'll starve if we can't find rats to eat..." "I was already dead", Nick replied. "But you came back for me, proved me your love like that...showed me that after all this I'm still...I'm still worth loving...this is the most beautiful thing you could've done for me..." He stroked Arthur's back. "I'm sorry you have to pay such a heavy price for this...You did enough to deserve a happy life and I wish I could make it up to you, prove my love in return. Also I'd love to spend more time with you." He kissed the other man's cheek.

Arthur sobbed, but less deeply than before. He palpated Nick's arm. "We still have some time left..." "Hmm, that's the spirit", Nick purred. Arthur let out the air and smiled a little. "Nick, if you really feel like that, if you feel it was all worth it...then I don't regret anything!" "Well, I guess you had your reasons, doing all this for me..." Nick squeezed his hand. "You're a crazy fucker, Nick and you deserve a beating for not telling me the truth!" Nick held up his arms and bowed his head. "Well...feel free to give it to me now..." Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders. "I know a better way to spend my last bits of energy..." Nick smiled. "My luck..." His hands explored the other man's upper body. "And mine..." Arthur closed his eyes and kissed Nick. The touch caused his synapses to flare up and his body to want more.

They busied themselves, ignoring the rumbling noises around them. There was nowhere they could run anyway. All Arthur cared about was if he could make Nick beg for mercy before they died. When they both shouted out their exstasy there was a moment Arthur thought the ceiling would give in.

A few moments later, when Arthur crawled off of Nick, gasping and moaning with pleasure, his lover cuddled into him and whispered: "I think the tunnel is about to collapse..." "Yeah, I figured that too...", Arthur sighed out of breath. They both eyed the ceiling as if they were lying in the grass stargazing. "I like to think it's because of us." Nick laughed. "Perhaps we'll make it into the history books." Arthur joined the laughter. "We fucked so hard the town got destroyed..." They had fun imagining this until a thin crack wandered along the ceiling of the tunnel. Arthur instinctively pulled the smaller man closer and pressed his head against his chest.

"I'm not scared, you're scared...", Nick muttered from under Arthur's arm and the taller man giggled. "I won't risk to die in fear before this show ends", Arthur advised him. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this by the way", Nick brought it up and grabbed his hair. "If I knew you were coming, I..." Arthur waved him off. "You've always been ugly." "Yeah, but I mean I would've made myself extra ugly," Nick deadpanned. "Nevermind, I have to deal with it now. It takes a lot to be your boyfriend, I figured that, but I'm used to suffering", Arthur answered sternly. Nick chuckled. "My sexy Downer..." Arthur had to grin at that. "I wonder, did I seduce you?" "How could I resist?", the rock idol blurted out. "With your formfitting suit, tightly parted hair,  sharp cheekbones to die for and always towering above me like that...I mean no, not at all..." Arthur stroked the other man's dark hair. "Poor thing..." "Yeah, my thoughts exactly." Nick folded his arms. "I am the victim in this." Arthur kissed him again.

He was just wondering how often he could kiss Nick before it was over when there was another rumble that made dust ripple from the walls. Arthur looked up but Nick's gentle hand pulled him back down. "Thank you", the rockstar whispered and kissed him again. The ceiling came down with a roar.

Darkness. Silence. Then something. A noise. Like a beep. A beep? Yeah...a beep. And light. A flashing bright light that hurt his eyes. He blinked, frowned, moaned. The light split up into colors. The shadows in front of him slowly turned into figures. Could it be? No...no... Oh, please, no...

"Welcome back, Mr. Worthing", the hideous face of a doctor cheered. "Thank goodness we found you in time! We would've lost you forever! You shouldn't be so careless. Also, you caused quite the trouble out there." He tutted and shook his head. "I can't believe you fooled us for so long, but don't worry, it was simply the wrong formula that made you do this. We have a much more advanced one right here." He showed him a syringe with an ominous pink fluid in it. "No!", Jack cried, hammering against the glass wall of his cell. "No, please, just kill me!" "Aw, why would we do that?", the doctor said with a pitiful face. "Killing you for a little accident." He waved him off. "You're everyone's best friend. Their uncle!" "You can't go on with this forever!", Jack spat. "You don't even have a working formula! You'll never have one!" The doctor scratched his beard. "Hmm...you should let the science to the experts, Mr. Worthing. Your own attempts of self-medication went terribly wrong, didn't they?" Jack frowned. "Aw, what's that face? We want your smile back, Mr. Worthing. Do you remember it?" "Stop! Stop this bullshit!", Jack blurted out. "If not, then you're lucky. You're just in time for another News Hour with...well, with yourself! Isn't that funny, haha! Who else can watch himself on the telly, you're truly blessed!"

The doctors started to laugh. The one who had been talking pointed at the TV in a corner of the room. Jack cursed the damn thing. Why couldn't at least the doctors stop watching this shit? They didn't believe a word of it but still enjoyed hearing the happy lies. Jack suffered when the screen lit up and the stupid jolly show began. Well, when he closed his eyes he at least didn't have to see his own awfully forced smile.

This was his punishment, he concluded. Endless torture. This time they wouldn't be so stupid to trust him. They perhaps didn't really care about healing him. They could broadcast the old shows for all eternity and nobody would notice. Oh, Nick... He did this to him...He was such a smart boy...He did the right thing...still, it hurt... "She loved them, you know...She had dozens of them...You'd think at twelve your daughter would be over dolls...but she made these darling little costumes...", he heard himself say. Oh, yeah, my dear Margaret...she didn't deserve any of this...but wait, why was he talking about her?

Jack opened his eyes and saw himself shiver, struggling to speak. The smile was gone. The doctors watched the show in horror. "What is this?", one of them gasped. "Someone has to stop that!", the other one shouted. "Send a message! Now!", the third one ordered to the first. Jack stared at the screen, having goosebumps all over his body. This had been his last broadcast before they had brought him here. This was his old, innocent self. "Stop taking Joy!", his old self shouted. "The food has run out! We're starving! You have to stop taking your Joy! We've come to the end of our time! We've come to the end of our time!" The doctors ran around the room in panic, trying to figure out who to message first and yelling commands through the speakers. Then something very big detonated with an earshattering noise and made the room shake. The doctors stumbled, yelled, fell onto each other, others ran in, some ran out, glass tubes fell on the floor or the delicate machines and spilled their insides, it was pure chaos.

Jack laughed. He laughed out all his pain, his suffering, his misery that he had bottled-up in all those years. It felt so releaving to see their panic, to see how his own doing caused this. Also, it was very funny to watch. He hadn't had so much fun in years. Another glass tube was knocked over by a Doctor and it's liquid ran over a console, causing a loudly hissing short cirquit. Seconds later, Jack's cell door opened. Nobody noticed. Jack walked out and enjoyed his tour through a building full of his enemies' despair.  He noticed it wasn't Haworth Labs and he liked to think that something even worse had happened there so they couldn't bring him to his old cell. What a shame though. He would've liked to pay Verloc a visit. But he also knew that the game was over.

Stepping outside, he found the Parade Disctric in a horrible state. His own broadcast had stopped playing, but the Wellies nevertheless had obeyed their good old Uncle Jack once more. He sighed deeply, looking around with a smile. He was at peace.

[ooohyou]

Submitted to r/nosleep by u/NemesisLuce

Please support the original author.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. Cute little bookstore in a quaint little town. I love helping customers find the right book for their mood. I love showing cute children’s books to curious kids. I love talking with sales reps and figuring out exactly which new releases to order from them.

I also fucking hate my job.

It was ten minutes past closing time, and I had my brightest, fakest smile on while trying to get the last customer out of my store. No sir, I cannot look up a book on the computer if all you know is the cover was red when you saw a poster for it 5 years ago. No sir, “I think it was about the cold war and a detective who drank too much but maybe it was something else” does not help me at all. Look sir, all my historical thrillers are on this shelf. Does anything ring a bell? No? Was it made into a movie? You don’t know? Oooookaaaay then, I’m sorry to inform you that we are already past closing time, here’s the store number, if you remember the title give us a call and we’ll order it for you if it’s still available. Thank you, good evening to you too sir, goodbye. Yes you have your umbrella, it’s right here in your hand sir. Okay bye bye.

I sighed and gave my cashier the biggest eyeroll I could manage before locking the door and turning over the sign that previously said ‘come in, we’re open!’. I heard the coins clanking in the coin counting machine (do these have a name? I don’t know. Coin counting machine is pretty self-explanatory and I’ve never bothered to check if they were actually called that), signifying that Alice had started to sort her cash drawer. I would only need to take out the profits of the day, make sure she had enough cash for tomorrow, and send her home. I went through the motions mechanically, only thinking about the nap I was about to have in the breakroom. It was going to be glorious. I really needed it if I wanted to be alert for the night shift.

Oh, yeah. We’ve got a night shift here. It’s my store’s most… peculiar aspect. We close at 6pm, but we open again at 11, up until 5am. Then we open again at 10am. So when I said ‘nap’ earlier, I actually meant the first half of my night, since I am working both shifts. Yes, I live in my store. Please buy books instead of reading stuff on the Internet, I would really love to be able to afford another employee.

So there I was, counting money fully on autopilot, daydreaming about drinking a nice cup of herbal tea and hugging my pillow, when Alice said something that ruined my plans.

“I forgot to tell you, something weird happened when you were on break.”

I snapped out of my daydream instantly and shot her a questioning glare.

“Yeah, this old lady came in, looking for something about fairy tales. I showed her the section but she didn’t want to have a look there apparently, and she asked me about something from the back. And I was like ‘do you think we’re hiding books from our customers or something’ so I just told her everything we had was on display in the store but we could order any book we didn’t have if she wanted. And she just shook her head and mumbled something and then she handed me this pamphlet and I was like ‘okay feel free to look around’ and didn’t even look at the pamphlet before shoving it in my pocket because a kid entered the store holding an open juice box and that was a disaster waiting to happen so yeah but that was weird right?”

She had actually run out of breath by the end of her sentence, and I wasn’t surprised. I was pissed though.

“Alice for FUCKS sake. Give me the pamphlet, don’t look at it. I’ll write that you were fired because of the store’s financial situation and give you a glowing recommendation.”

All color drained from the young girl’s face. I wasn’t mad at her, but I was still mad. She was supposed to know the rules. Hell, I even had her train the temps we hired to help around Christmas time. In retrospect, it was a miracle nothing bad had happened.

Okay, I was slightly mad at her. But I really didn’t want to be.

I saw in her eyes that it had finally clicked. She understood the gravity of what she had done, and handed me a crumpled pamphlet from her pocket, making sure to avert her gaze. God damn it. She had one momentary lapse, and it cost me a good cashier. Fucking hell.

“I’m sorry…” she started.

“It’s okay Alice, you didn’t mean to. You were alone on the floor, she was an old bat, it could’ve happened to anyone. You’ll be missed around here, but please don’t visit.”

She nodded. She finally remembered the rules, and she understood that there was no other way.

I put the cash drawer in the safe while she gathered the stuff she had left in the break room. I opened the back door to light a cigarette. She had tears in her eyes as she exited the store. I gave her a smile and clasped her hands in mine.

“You were a good employee, Alice. You’ll do great in a regular bookstore. Don’t doubt yourself and avoid this street for a few weeks. Call me if you run into any trouble, okay?”

“Thank you for the opportunity, boss. I really loved working here.”

“I know you did. Now hurry home. Don’t answer to anyone knocking on your door. Be safe.”

She nodded and scurried away, her backpack bouncing with her steps. I crammed my half-finished cigarette into the already-full-but-I-keep-forgetting-to-empty-it ashtray and went back inside.

The pamphlet was sitting on top of the safe, and as I grabbed it I felt the urge to read it. Nope. In the bin you go. I was accustomed to those old tricks. First rule of working with my clientele is to know when you can’t trust your instincts because something’s fucking with them. Second rule is to trust your instincts. Confusing? Welcome to my life.

So I ended up sitting at my desk typing furiously on my computer instead of napping. I still had a few hours until night shift, but I absolutely had to start interviewing prospective employees in the next couple days – in the meantime I just had to hope one of my part-time employees would like to work a few extra hours. I just have too much work to spend all my time manning the register and keeping the tables neat. While the store isn’t that big, it still is a lot for one person.

I obviously had to update the employee rulebook as well. Just emphasize that you can’t take chances with crazy old people. You never know if they’re truly crazy or something else.

“Never accept anything a customer hands you directly if it’s not (real) money. If they’re promoting something, make them leave any cards, pamphlets, posters at the register. If you end up accepting whatever they gave you, don’t look at it, and come to me immediately.”

Yes, it’s weird. I know it’s weird. Look, I pay my employees a fair enough wage that they make sure to follow the rules. I don’t care if they think I’m crazy. I probably am. It doesn’t matter.

I pressed enter and added:

“If a customer asks if they can see what we have in the back, politely decline and offer them to order whatever book they need. If they persist, come get me.”

God damn it, Alice actually handled this part well. But she grabbed the pamphlet, and I had to protect her.

I don’t write the rules to make my employees better workers. I write them to make sure they survive. The main reason any infraction is cause for termination is that, well, it could be the cause for the actual termination of their existence on Earth. Getting fired from a job is a way better alternative.

Alice accepted the old lady’s pamphlet. It could’ve been anything else. A tissue, a cigarette, a glass of water. She unknowingly made a bargain with whatever the woman was. ‘I gave you something, now I’m free to take something’. Entities like the old lady abide by archaic rules. In a store, this is what applies. I lost a regular day customer that way. The poor lady was watching over her kid, who was merrily making a mess looking through the 3-5 years old section, when a young girl came up to her. “Look miss, look I made a drawing”, she said. My customer grabbed the piece of paper and the girl ran off. A couple days later, posters popped up everywhere in town for a missing toddler.

I was obviously pissed. I’d been waiting to see that little girl again and tell her that business rules applied only between merchant and customers and she had no right to force an innocent, unaware person into a contract. My night clientele is well aware of that, and treasure having a place to find literature enough to not risk jeopardizing the fragile balance between both worlds. Nonhumans can be facetious little shits though, and I’ve never seen that girl again. Some entities enjoy chaos just for the sake of it. This one just danced around the rules, grabbed what she wanted, and ruined two lives. My customer sank into a deep depression and ended up gouging her eyes out during a manic episode. Her toddler was never found, but I don’t think he will grow up to be a respectable, human adult.

I checked the time and decided I could get 2 hours of sleep before having to get the store ready for night shift. So obviously I went to check out who – or what – was knocking on the glass window near the entrance because who needs sleep anyway.

It was an old lady, her wrinkled bloated nose pressed against the glass, her skeletal fingers tapping against it in a rhythmical fashion that was getting on my nerves. She had piercing, blood-injected eyes that were fixed on me and a grin so large it couldn’t possibly be natural.

I didn’t have time to be scared, but I still felt the fear creeping up on my stomach, slowly making its way through my body. No matter how hard I tried to reject it, I couldn’t. Stupid human nature. I adorned my best customer service smile and walked up to the old lady.

“My apologies, you seem to be a bit early. We will be open for business at eleven.”

I didn’t need to yell. I knew she could hear me clearly in spite of the glass separating us.

One… two… three taps on the window. Her already impossibly wide grin grew even wider, revealing rotten teeth sticking out of black, putrid gums. Thick, yellowish saliva was dripping down in strands from her non-existent lips. By the time the corners of her mouth reached her temples, I was sure I would lose my fake confidence and run in the opposite direction. No matter how many times you deal with unnatural entities, being mere centimeters away from a nightmarish mouth full of rot and decay will shake you to your core. I tried to breathe calmly, being secretly thankful for the glass that separated me from what was probably the foulest smell I’d ever submitted my nose to, hoping the old lady would see me standing my ground and respect the rules of business. I could deal with her inside my bookstore, where she would be a customer. I just needed to stay brave and meet her transfixed, unwavering gaze. Her eyes were more blood vessels than pupils, and I found myself focusing on those instead of whatever was moving in her mouth. I did not want to see her tongue, not after seeing the state of her teeth. And I sure as hell did not want to see whatever I clearly caught moving around her mouth if it wasn’t her tongue. No, her eyes were scary but I could deal with them, no matter how unsettling it was to see them bulge in and out of her head in a slow motion, almost as if they were breathing. The glass became foggier and foggier on her side due to her heavy, animalistic panting, but I kept my gaze straight, only catching glimpses of fog and movement in my peripheral visions. If I were to treat her like an animal, I needed to assert myself as the alpha. I don’t yield to rude, entitled customers, and I wouldn’t yield to rude, entitled nonhumans breaching the unspoken contract that allowed them to enjoy my store.

After what felt like forever, she stopped tapping on the window. Her grin reverted back to a normal, almost friendly smile. She blinked, soggy wrinkled eyelids covering those eyes I had stared at for far too long.

“I guess I’ll see you when you’re open, then”. In spite of the glass panel separating us, I felt her putrid breath against my ear as she whispered her parting words.

Just like that, she turned and left.

Understandably, I was not looking forward to seeing her during the night shift. My regular customers were unsettling enough, I did not want to add the batshit-insane-nightmarish-grandma to the list.

I’m a business owner. The customer may not be always right, but they are always my priority. I will have to open tonight, because while some may not consider books to be a necessity, I guarantee you that it is vital not only for my business, but for some of my night customers that I open every night. I complain about my life a lot, but some of them face issues they can’t simply look up on the internet nor ask a friend or even a therapist. They may urgently need something from the night inventory, and I will do my best to provide it for them. I’ve always loved being a bookseller, but helping nonhumans find whatever fits their very specific needs has given me a sense of purpose I’m not ready to give up just yet.

I will open tonight. And I will protect my business and its rules, to ensure that I can open tomorrow night.

(Note: edited some words to fit in with the location LOL)

[tothestanders]

Trading Places

Summary:

"Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

“Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!

”Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars?"

Or, Patton and Remus swap roles. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Warnings: canon-typical Remus language

Read on AO3 here

Thomas’s back ached from being hunched over so long, fingers half numb from hours of button pressing. Thomas hardly noticed. He was only one level away from meeting the final Boss. Weeks of gameplay had been leading up to this moment. All the lost sleep and forgotten meals were about to pay off in the greatest, grandest, most magnificent battle of all time –

Something ringing cut through Thomas’s laser focus, jolting him back to the real world. He frantically groped for the ‘pause’ button before tearing his eyes away to read the caller ID on his phone. A friend from community theater. Thomas was disappointed for a moment that it wasn’t just ignorable spam, then immediately felt guilty. He quickly accepted the call.

“Hey man, what’s up?” he spoke into the phone. “Oh! Free to talk right now?” Thomas glanced longingly at the paused video game. “Um, well…”

“Are you really gonna hang up on your friend for a video game? Wow, Thomas, I didn’t realize you were even more evil than I am.”

Thomas nearly threw his phone in surprise. Next to him on the sofa suddenly sat the Duke, his face shifting between maudlin disappointment and a suppressed grin.

“What the heck, man! Why you gotta pop up in my blind spot like that?” Thomas yelled, putting the phone on mute while noises of confusion came through the speaker.

“Why you gotta be a shitty friend?” Remus replied without missing a beat. “What if they’re in crisis? What if their family just disowned them? What if they lost their job and can’t afford rent or food and have nowhere to go and you were their last option for help and now they’re going to spend the night on the streets and get mugged and then murdered and so eviscerated that they won’t be able to identify the body and he’ll be tossed into a mass grave where he’ll get devoured by worms at age thirty…”

“Oh my God, stop!” Thomas tried to command, to no avail.

“…and then he’ll turn into a zombie with his mind trapped in his rotting brain and forced to watch as his body kills people…”

“I hope your friend is doing all right!” Thomas whirled around to see Patton sitting on his other side, expression sympathetic. He didn’t seem to notice that Remus was there or still talking. Or maybe he was just ignoring him.

“Oh, thank God, Patton. Do you think it’s okay for me to play my video game instead of talking? I’m just so close to the boss battle and I really wanna finish it.”

“Well, I think your pal sounded fine, but better safe than sorry. How about you can finish your game, but first we say something to cheer him up just in case?”

“…and once all his loved ones have been eaten alive his zombie brain will come back to life and have to live with the horror of what he’s done…”

Desperate to get the Duke’s morbid monologue to stop, Thomas rushed to agree. “Yeah, sure. Any ideas?”

“Oh, you know I’ve always got something up my sleeve. A dad joke is never a bad joke!” He paused a second to think. “What has two butts and kills people? An assassin!”

Without a second thought, Thomas lifted the phone back to his face, unmuted it, and repeated the joke. He snorted at his own punchline, mentally congratulating himself on the pun. Then realization set in. Patton seemed to have the same realization, judging by the look of self-directed horror on his face.

The sound of laughter came through the phone. “Sorry, that was kind of a silly one. But glad you liked it,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I was kinda in the middle of something when you called, but I’d love to catch up later tonight if that works for you?” His friend assured him it was no problem, and after setting up a time to chat later, they hung up.

“What the heck was that?” Thomas said.

“Great teamwork!” Remus chimed, raising a hand to high-five Patton across Thomas’s body. Patton eyed it nervously, then lightly tapped the palm. Then not so subtly wiped his hand on his pants.

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to use potty language,” Patton said, shaking his head. “A dad’s gotta set a good example for his kids! Not my best work, huh?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Thomas said. “But mostly I meant Remus. Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

“Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!”

Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars? And wouldn’t that probably make dents and break the windows?”

Patton’s face fell into a look of consternation. “Oh, yes, sorry. That would be very inconsiderate. Definitely don’t do that, Thomas. Okay, instead, we can celebrate with food! I think we’ve got eggs, pickles, maple syrup, and coffee in the kitchen. Sounds like the ingredients for a yummy soup.”

“Soup?” Thomas repeated in disbelief.

Patton tilted his head. “Yeah, soup. You know, a liquid you can eat! We could add cinnamon too if you want.”

“I love it, Patton! Look who’s finally not being such a fuddy-daddy,” Remus said, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

Thomas looked rapidly between the two of them. “Okay, is someone going to explain what’s going on here or am I just gonna stay confused?”

“You could’ve skipped all the confusion in the first place if you’d just listened to me earlier. I knew you liked boys by age 6!” Remus answered, and Thomas groaned. But then the Duke let out a long, dramatic sigh and stood, spreading his arms wide. “All right, killjoy. I swapped us, of course!”

“What? You can’t do that!” Patton reprimanded. “You switch back with Thomas right now, mister! This is Thomas Sanders Sides, not Remus Sanders Sides.”

Remus blinked. “Uh, right. No. I swapped our roles, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes widened with realization. “Ohhh. Well that’s much better.” He nodded to himself. Then, “Hey! You switch us back right now, mister!”

“Oopsie doodles, no can doozies. This is way too much fun! Now, Thomas, about your content.” Remus turned to face Thomas, a manic gleam in his eyes. “You really love to coddle your viewers, huh? Do you think they can tell? Do you think they click on your channel and get whacked in the face with the patronizing ooey gooey BS you sprinkle over their dainty little heads? They’re probably devastated you don’t trust them to be able to handle anything more meaningful and substantial than the trite twaddle you call videos.”

Remus pushed up his cheeks with his fists, lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, poor babies. Their favorite Youtube star thinks nothing of them. That’s gotta cut like a machete to the heart.”

“Okay! Got it,” Thomas said. “So what I’m hearing is you’re my morality now?” Horror rose in his throat. “And Patton is my bad creativity?” Remus nodded excitedly. Patton looked nauseous. “Why would you do that?” Thomas asked, desperate.

“Oh, it’s simple. Dear Virgie didn’t like the bloody death threat I left on his wall earlier. Talk about not being able to take a joke, amirite?” Patton grimaced at that idea of a ‘joke.’ “Anyway, then he went off about how I’ll” – Remus adopted a mocking, bored tone to accompany his air quotes – “‘never be an important Side’ because I ‘don’t know the difference between right and wrong.’ Blah, blah, blah. But that was just too good of a challenge to pass up!”

“Too good of a challenge…so you’re trying to prove Virgil wrong? By being my morality? ” Thomas clarified in dismay.

“Yep! And proving that I could gain a whole lotta influence real quick if I wanted. Good little Thomas would never repress his moral drive.” Remus smiled sweetly at him.

“Sure, okay. This is not happening.” Thomas turned to Patton. “You’re my real morality. Can’t you, like, take your job back? Please?”

“Afraid not,” the Duke answered for him in a voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Where do you think your Sides comes from, Thomas? We’re figments of your imagination, after all.”

Thomas rested his face in his hand, exhausted by the whole situation. “I’m not following.”

“It’s easy. Imagination is part of creativity.” He did a mirror of Roman’s typical arm flourish at the mention of his function. “Therefore, your creativity created your Sides and is the only thing that can change them as it pleases. As I please.”

“Hold on, does that mean you and Roman are, like, literally everyone else’s dads?” Thomas asked.

“Hey now, kiddo. Don’t go stealing my kids out from under me,” Patton said, pointing a stern finger.

“Don’t worry, I’m a deadbeat dad!” Remus replied. Then his expression turned thoughtful. It was the most terrifying thing Thomas had ever seen. “Huh, isn’t it interesting that we’re figments of your imagination but also kinda not? I mean, we’ve got thoughts and feelings of our own. Yet our whole existence revolves around you.” Thomas braced, not sure where this was going but sure it wasn’t anywhere good. “You call all the shots about what we do, and if one of us wants to do something? Well, better pimp yourself out to get on the Big Daddy’s good side –”

“What?!”

“– and hope he graciously agrees. No autonomy for us. Just wasting away in your brain while you fuck around with the body. Male privilege? Please, let’s talk corporeal privilege, Thomas.”

Remus’s tone stayed casual, gaze idly wandering as he thought aloud. But the wave of guilt that came with his words was enough to nearly knock Thomas over, and made his eyes sting with tears. The Duke actually had a point. Was Thomas a terrible person? Oh, God. Was he abusing his Sides?

“Okay, kiddo.” Patton said, holding out his hands in a pacifying gesture. “That’s some pretty heavy stuff. Let’s not get carried away, all right? Don’t worry Thomas, we love being part of your amazing head!”

“Did someone say amazing head? I was wondering when you’d ask –”

Thomas closed his eyes. He could not deal with this. His Morality was suggesting crime, his Bad Creativity was giving him intrusive guilt, except all that was actually the other way around, now. Too much chaos, too many moral crises jam packed into ten minutes, too much Remus. Frankly, at this point he was just surprised Virgil hadn’t popped up to yell at him yet. Thomas was considering just getting up and walking away, irrationally hoping that no one would follow, when he remembered something.

“Wait a second. You said only Creativity could switch you guys back, right?”

“Yeppers! And don’t bother calling Roman, he’s still black and blue from reading Youtube comments earlier,” Remus replied cheerfully. Thomas made a mental note to check on Roman once all this was done.

“But you switched roles with Patton,” he continued, frown sliding into a sly smile. “Which means that Patton is now my Creativity – well, part of it, anyway. Which means he can switch you back!” Thomas turned eagerly to his father figure figment.

“Ah, I’m not so sure about that, kiddo.” Patton’s eyes were wide as saucers. “What if tapping into a” – his voice fell to a whisper – “dark power turns me evil. Like Ursula from A Little Mermaid.”

“Is that Ursula’s backstory?” Thomas asked curiously.

“No, actually! The real one is much better,” Remus said. “She almost got burned alive when her village figured out she was part octopus. Good thing her dear brother rescued her. Oh, except he thought she was a monster too, so he banished her to the cesspit of the sea.” Remus’s enthusiastic tone only made his darkened expression the more unnerving.

Thomas shifted uneasily. Once again, he was reminded just how much he didn’t know about what went on in his own head. But then again, Remus had told him, hadn’t he?

The unloved brother from the Genesis.

He began to spiral back down Remus’s guilt trip about responsibility to his Sides. Thankfully his thoughts were interrupted by Patton. “Aw, poor thing! People can be meaner than a bully burning a baby bunny in a Satanic ritual.” What? “Uh, I mean! A stuffed bunny. Anyway, I hope Ursula is okay now.”

“Nope, she died,” Remus informed him. Patton’s lip started to wobble.

“So that’s good news!” Thomas butted in before things could get any more derailed. He’d have time later to worry about sibling rivalry and possible injustice among figments of his imagination. “I mean, Ursula didn’t turn evil from using dark magic. So Patton has nothing to worry about. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, I need my good old morality back. No one else can beat the top pop.” Thomas smiled at the giggle that got.

“Oh, all right. I’ll give it the old college try.”

Thomas sighed in relief and watched as Patton squeezed his eyes and fists tight, brow furrowing in intense concentration. A moment later he cracked an eye open. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know, tell a joke!” Thomas urged.

“Um…oh! Why can’t a nose be twelve inches long? Because then it’d be a foot!”

Thomas groaned, but he was smiling. Finally, his Sides were back to normal.

“Or my dick!” Remus chirped.

Yeah, normal. The thought was far fonder than it had any right to be.

“See, Patton? There was nothing to worry about. No spooky magical corruption – hey what’s up with your logo?” Thomas pointed at the heart on Patton’s shirt. It had turned upside down, its shape now looking a lot like…well.

Remus gasped in delight. “Awesome! Taking style inspiration from your favorite Creativity, I see.”

“You’re not my favorite Creativity,” Patton said, and Thomas couldn’t help his flinch. But then, “I can’t play favorites with my kids! You’re all perfect just the way you are.”

The side-eye Remus gave Patton was truly impressive. “Perfect, huh? Even when I do this?” Suddenly he was holding what looked kinda like a bouquet of pale, bloody flowers. Then Thomas spotted the fingernails. He watched as the entire handful of severed fingers slid down Remus’s throat and disappeared with a loud slurp.

“Of course!” Patton replied, seemingly unfazed. “No matter what you do, you’re still famILY.”

Okay, that was weird. Patton, not bothered by that sickening gesture? But wait a second – was it sickening? Strangely enough, Thomas found he wasn’t all that bothered by it either. Like some of his aversion to Remus had faded.

The suspicious look didn’t leave Remus’s face, but something about him seemed…calmer, than it had a minute ago. Softer.

Patton looked back at his shirt with a puzzled expression. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn the heart was right-side up. Maybe I need new glasses!”

“I wouldn’t call that a heart anymore. It’s totally a pair of dingle-dangles.”

“A what?” Thomas said, unable to believe the Duke had actually used a euphemism. And a downright cutesy one, at that. His gaze fell to Remus’s belt.

“My eyes are up here, you saucy minx. And here,” Remus added, pointing to the eyeball on his shoulder.

“No, look,” Thomas said, pointing to the logo on the belt buckle. The crescent moon at the top seemed to have morphed into a smiley face.

Thomas head swiveled between the smiley face and the – uh, inverted heart – several times. He thought back to what Patton had been worried about. Lasting effects of the role reversal. Oh no.

Patton and Remus, both still engrossed by their changed logos, seemed to have the same thought. In voices heavy with resignation, all three of them spoke at the same time.

“Aw, butts.”

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Yule Man (6/7)

Told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

Mia tried to spend the Yule Festival in Lichthafen City with Chris multiple times. The weather always found a way to close their path. Through it all, over the years, he always felt the presence of the North Wind with him. Bringing him to Arnsberg, dragging him away, watching over him.

The desperation grew in him and he decided to risk it all. This time he had an idea, and while he didn't know if it would work, he had to try.

He marched with his sack through a deserted street. He knelt down on the cobblestone, praying he would hear him. He did.

The North Wind engulfed him in a state of mind and spirit where neither time nor distance mattered. He heard a cacophony of thousands of sly voices closer to his ear.

"Why do you call me, son?"

On his knees, he looked up.

"How long I been doing this? Bringing snow to this place, to these people."

The voice blew against him.

"Since eternity began"

"How long I will continue to go through the mortal world as a mere seasonal specter?" He said with anger.

"For as long as eternity prevail."

"Do I have a name?" He feared the answer.

"You can't have a name. You don't have a soul. You don't live."

He drew his bag.

"Please, release me of this cursed state. I won't bring snow to this place ever again. I will never stop trying to run from you."

"Are you blackmailing me?"

"Yes." He shouted. "You can't punish me. If you try, I will never open this bag again."

The voiced flew with anger.

"What do you want?"

He lowered his tone. He looked down to earth.

"I want to exist; I want to be real. I want to be part of this world instead of being a mere apparition, a shadow."

"You should be thankful for not existing. Existence is pain. You’re free from this curse. You're free from old age, disease, suffering, pain, death and heartbreak."

"You forget that I'm also free from living, finality, purpose, pleasure, life and passion. There's more in existing than pain."

"There's entropy. Your days will be numbered. Death and the end of all things will always be a certainty. If you choose this path, there's little that I can do to bring you back. You accept that."

"I do."

"I tried to protect you from this existence. All the higher powers in this world know I tried. The mortals corrupted you. There's little I can do now. Enjoy existing. You live now. You die now. Enjoy the short time you have."

Chris felt different, as if his whole world changed before his sight. He felt everything he could felt on that moment. Pain. Cold. Despair. The certainty of Death. The threat of doom. The fear of the unknown. Love and passion. Joy of being alive. Purpose in life. Hope.

"Before you go, answer back foolish mortal: How long do you think this will last."

He closed his eyes and smiled.

"For as long it shall last."

He picked his bag and rushed to Mia's tailoring shop. He reached there by the evening. A huge man dressed in gentleman clothes sat inside.

"You still haven't paid us your debt."

Mia glared at him with fear.

"Friedrich, I promise I'll pay Mr. Müller everything, but I need time."

He stepped closer to her.

"All I have to say is that he's getting tired. If I were you, I would be very careful now. Happy Yuletide."

He stormed out and bumped against Chris. The boy carefully entered.

"Who was he?"

Mia straightened her hair.

"No one you should worry about." She continued. "Where were you been? We always met by morning."

"There was something I needed to do first."

He seemed different. Mia could tell it. He dropped the fur clothes and raced to the bathroom, where once again he shaved. He stared at the bathroom windows and smiled to the town. Things were changing.

Mia and Chris talked about everything. No secrets could stand between them. Well, no secrets alas for this one. Poverty finally stroked her. This year had been hard. In desperate times, people drown in desperate justifications for poor decisions. Mia didn't want to worry Chris about any of that. She could handle her problems.

During the conversation, Chris placed his old bag over the coffee table. Mia recognized immediately that thing. She touched on it and withdrew. Too cold for her. Even mortal, only Chris still could do the job.

"This year will be the last time I carry this."

Mia became surprised.

"Why? What happened?"

He looked like her siblings during the Solstice Morning.

"He allowed it. He finally allowed it.

"Who?"

"The North Wind."

"What."

He grinned from ear to ear.

"Mia, I'm mortal now. I exist. I'm real now. I'm real!"

She jumped from the couch. Mia couldn't believe it. He got up and he pulled her hands.

"When the Yuletide is over, I am not going anywhere this time. I will stay with you..." He paused and looked at her with his most tender eyes. "If you still want to stay with me."

Mia couldn't resist him. She and Chris hugged each other. They jumped, cried, and laughed together. A wave of emotions possessed each one.

"I need to do something first."

He pulled the bag and raced to the terrace. Not understanding what happened, she ran after him. He carefully placed his hand and hers on the tying knot. It didn't freeze her hands this time.

Chris suddenly got on his knees.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't have any money to afford a ring. But I want to marry you. I don't want to leave your side as long as I may live. I want to be forever a part of your life. If you allowed me in it." He started crying.

She shouted yes and hugged him close.

"One, two, three!"

They pulled the knot and release the snow. The cold breeze and the billions of bright snowflakes seamed to dance all around them. The danced up to far away, to every house and to every person in town, to all who needed them. All in Arnsberg felt their happiness that night.

They made love with deep passion. Magic flowed between them. They knew each other's bodies down to the minimal detail.

They had troubles getting any sleep that night.

"Do you think we could spend the Summer in that Lichthafen City? You know, really this time."

"For you to play in the sand and fill our room with it" She snuggled in his arms.

"Don't forget the tiny seashells" He laughed and stared at her in silence.

"Why are looking at me?" She gently poked his nose.

"I am appreciating the idea of growing old with you!"

Sophia and her brothers showed to the shop next day, all beautiful youths by now. Chris loved them, but they always brought with them the truth: Time had passed.

They invited them to pass the Yule Festival in the mansion with them. No balls or parties, only spending time together on that big house. Mrs. Hayek had at long time carved a tomb for herself on that residence. She had assumed the role of the reclusive widow with deep care. Their kids still hoped they still could bring life for that semi-dead body. Rekindling the Yule spirit was one of these measures.

Mia couldn't bear her mother, still, she loved her siblings and wanted to spend time with them and Chris. Even more, she wanted to get away from the Cat’s-eye’s presence.

Fritz and Thomas threw the Yule Log in the fireplace. The first time in years. The Hayek Mansion seemed almost the same when he first arrived there. Yet, the changes were pretty self-evident. Less servants, less decorations. The Yule Tree was absent.

Entering the house, they saw Mrs. Hayek crawling out of her room like a reptile. The proud woman disappeared. An old bald hag dressed in long floral robes stood on her place.

She stared at Mia. Didn't pronounced a single word, then returned to her room. Mia felt a deep abyss between her and her mom. Time had been cruel with them.

They chattered, ate sweets. They told ghosts stories by the fireplace. Simple, still full of meaning to all present there. Chris felt something he thought it was impossible for him, nostalgia. The kids he played with had all grown up. Sophia was engaged. Fritz found a job out of town and he wanted to know if the rest could take care of their mother. Thomas acted as the new owner of the house.

Mia found him sitting in the stone bench of the garden gates. Snow covered everything in sight, even her fiancé.

"Are you good?"

"The snow never bothered me anyway, madam." He smirked, but with a drop of bitterness behind his playful face.

She sat next to him.

"I never stood too close to mortals. I knew you are always changing. I never thought how much. It scares me."

She didn't said a single word.

"You don't know what to say!"

She nodded in shame. He gave a half-smile to her.

Mia then saw Cat’s-eye’s men on the other side of the gate. She jumped from the bench in fear.

"What happened?" He said worried.

He turned to see what was in the direction she was looking, but he didn't saw anything.

"Nothing, I thought I saw a wild animal on the other side. It was just the trees." Lying never was Mia's strongest suit. "Let's get back inside." She pulled him by his arm.

Cat’s-eye’s men didn't knew her family had money. She avoided using the name Hayek in her tailoring shop. They didn't knew she grew up in a mansion. They knew now.

[rametarin]

tempting.

Reflecting on my health issues, since age 17. And my living situation.

So since around the age of 16, I’ve been plagued with unpredictable bowel problems and digestive ills. Like, everybody gets constipated every now and then, but I mean I’d get just, excruciatingly backed up and my family wouldn’t help me get seen or anything.

Basically from the time I was 18 onwards I was told my medical bills were mine. But oh by the way [Ram. Not my real name, but the name fam calls me], you gotta pay us every dollar that isn’t devoted to keeping yourself alive :^)

I’d be like, family, I cannot afford this, it’d be in your best interests to invest in my health so I can figure out what’s fucky about my bowels and stomach so this can stop happening, I can live a normal life, and we can all continue on our merry way.

Basically I was told, “tough shit, do it yourself, also pay your fair share to The Family” (aka, give mom all your money.)

It was never just fear of homelessness, but fear of homelessness while my GI tract was fucky and my teeth were rotting out of my head that made escape from here impossible. It’s why I didn’t just climb into a hole in the wall and escape this garbage fire of a mother and do that bootstrap shit. Because it sincerely made  me wonder sometimes if I was being poisoned by my mother to keep me powerless and in need of help, but perpetually weakened to where the best I could do is move towards help but just be put on a treadmill for someone elses financial benefit.

Perhaps my bitterness makes just a touch more sense now, right? Because Maine is a long-drive state. You need a car. You absolutely need a car to get anywhere. Not having one means you walk everywhere, you ride a bike everywhere and are FUCKED during the winter, or you go nowhere because you don’t have anywhere you need to be and don’t drive.

Now that said, imagine having bowel and ass problems so bad just the idea of driving makes you question if it’s safe for you to even be on the road.

That has been my existence for twenty years now, because my family wants me just close enough to extract what mom things “she’s owed,” but absolutely will not help me with anything. There’s no security in staying here because the whole fucking POINT of putting up with a family’s infantilizing “everything has its place” mentality, is you’re able to wisely squirrel away your income without paying a landlord anything and your income going up in smoke

If your mother is just the worst sort of landlord, you’re basically just paying a narcissistic bitch of a mother to be a narcissistic bitch of a mother. There’s absolutely no upside.

So I’ve been stuck in this virtual tutorial of an existence because my own digestive system was torturing me and seriously deleting my ability to operate independently. And mom, whom has always wanted absolute control over my finances and my future, saw it as a holistic way of penning me up and making be desperate. Never a wasted opportunity with this fucking monster.

Well. I eliminated cottonseed oil and chicken proteins from my diet and, while not perfect, the amount of excruciating pain and pressure and weird cold-acidic burning in my back and bowels has subsided a lot. As well as my stomach issues receded considerably.

The truth is I was loathe to even try and escape without figuring out these problems, but I couldn’t figure them out because I never had the money. I tried to get a barium enema x-ray when I was 17 and suffering a massive, excruciating flareup. I missed prom (I didn’t have anyone to go with anyway) because of what felt like it could’ve been anything from gall stones to bowel cancer.

Had a big useless cleanse that was excruciating, then had the guys that give the barium enema tell me, “lube is expensive” when I screamed about how much it hurt to have the thing shoved up my ass. My already inflamed, tender ass.

Absolutely nothing was found in my bowels. Which did absolutely nothing to explain why they felt inflamed and miserable. But it did give me a $1,700 bill, which proved.. absolutely nothing except they couldn’t find tumors or any object lodged in my butt. Given how it took me two summers to acquire almost that much working a shit job for my shithead father’s girlfriend, maybe you can appreciate how heartbreaking that is. Spending all that money and you don’t even learn WHY you’re suffering, you just learn why you aren’t.

And today I still fume with rage over being told, “ass lube is expensive so we’re skimping on it” and then be charged almost two thousand god damned dollars.

Absolutely could not get my family to help me pursue any other avenue. They just kept insisting, “it’s all anxiety, it’s all in your head. You just need to get off the computer and do more manual labor/make us money and your problems will go away. :^)”

But then they would not help me do it. They wanted me to take on all the risk while they got the guaranteed income from my needing to be around them.

My need to grow step by step was their opportunity to mitigate my life, every step of the way, so non-compliance with their exploitation would result in homelessness and complete uprooting. If I wasn’t going to voluntarily follow draconian rules, then I’d be governed by those rules anyway in the absence of them being verbally stated. Just, using poverty and immobility as a way to impose it.

But I refused to comply. I wasn’t going to suffer every day unendingly AND get my income snatched away, BY MY OWN GOD DAMNED FAMILY. A family that didn’t even pay RENT to live in the house we were living in at the time, and a family that made 65-70K a year, with another house they owned in a less convenient location worth $350K. My mother had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS other than fun and profit as an excuse as to why I needed to buy, “the family,” a car. Other than making it the “family” car giving her defacto control over it but my obligation to pay for it. Just another indirect way to give her absolute control over my options and alternatives.

So I didn’t work. I sat at home and dealt with her abusive bullshit, because it was the only card I had left in my deck. She didn’t want the stigma of throwing out a sick man without a license, a car or any savings. I didn’t want to voluntarily throw myself out and die in the street.

So I dealt with my health problems as best as I could. There were a good many times living in this house, that we’ve lived in and she’s owned since 2006, that I questioned whether I should phone an ambulance and just say fuck it, go into tens of thousands of dollars of debt just goosechasing this problem, thanks to the backdoor socialized medical system that exploits the profit motive but uses government assured payment fixed to taxes in order to afford it.

That’s probably what pisses me off the most about my situation. Our medical system has been turned into a farce by socialists deliberately making medicine as toxic as they fucking can in order to then bat their eyes and go, “Bet you just want single payer and to basically make medicine another ring of the government NOW, don’t youuuuuu? It’d make all those woes go awayyyyy!” while turning the screws to our bodies by denying us affordable medicine. All while blaming capitalism for shit that’s assured to work at any cost by the government.

Other people pine for a more socialized system to make the disgusting exploitation and abuse stop. But the truth is, that’s just like wanting to marry a pirate so they’ll stop lobbing cannonballs and demanding tolls at sea from you. Yes, the actual literal war on you and your community and your personal sovereignty will be over, but you’ll also be institutionalizing pirates in order to make them stop taking complete advantage of you on their terms instead of taking complete advantage of you on mostly-their terms but you get to act like you’re consenting to it.

I digressed. Anyway...

Well. I’m curious about pursuing a shit job just to see if I can KEEP some income, but I know, and have always known, my mother will not allow me to do anything with that money but barely keep myself alive. While she uses it to just buy enormous bulk loads of garbage and hoards them in the corners, or throws hundreds of dollars at friends-of-the-family/neighbors and extracts that money from me to do it.

I know going into it that the job would be otherwise worthless. She wants her ten pounds of flesh a year from me, and if I worked, there’d be no getting around it. She isn’t going to allow me to profit living with her, in any way. Everything has to revolve around her, or I get made homeless.

But trying to hold a job would mean possible (there’s that ‘potential vs. guarantee dichotomy again) feelers out to couches to surf on. Or credit building.

It’d still be a sexless existence dictated by someone so fucking petty that they can’t help you fix a broken tooth but do miraculously have the money to buy you a cell phone and a plan, “if you want it,” purely to always have you at their beck and call and/or have control over your phone plan. And it’d mean committing to something that runs a minimum of a year while being able to have a foot crushing my neck and destroying whatever I’m trying to do in an instant.

but it’d also mean being able to financially pursue what’s wrong with me and fixing it.

But I will hold this grudge against women and the actual, objective privilege they have from the legal system and our social system in the US for the rest of my life. Everybody around me saw what she was doing to me and my life, and they’ve done and said absolutely nothing. An abusive woman in this society is basically on par with the richest barons in a young adult novel, and all you have to do to get that kind of institutional power, rich or poor, is have a vagina and be a mom.

Then other women will sympathize with the mother, whom can never be totally wrong about anything, and at best you might get silence and indifference about the way you’re treated.

You can be cornered, debased and neglected until you’re a greasy shoggoth of a person, and if it’s a woman doing this to you, it’s your fault for not escaping. After having every escape route made as torturous and unsustainable an option as possible, you’ll be held accountable for yourself.

I’ll be relieved and pleased when this disgusting pig of a woman dies of natural causes. She’ll have gotten away with grabbing my life and thrashing around with it for 20 years while the world passed me by, just to keep control, just for fun, just for profit.

But in the meantime, maybe there’s a local niche I can fill. Just enough of something to find somewhere else to live. Without conditions making it more damning to pursue than nothing at all.

But I’m not hoping too hard.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Birth of an Obsession

Summary: When a first meeting is not really the first.

Rating: T -  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1300

Notes: Oh, Nathan! Best LI in this damn game, that’s for sure. About whom else would there be so much fic potential?

BTW, I remembered I have a taglist!

Enjoy!

“Goddamnit!” I screamed, with no regard to whomever was around me. “Stupid machine!”

I banged on the dryer again as it refused to start. I am not sure how many times I had swiped my card and pressed the start button. I was way past being annoyed, and I was growing more and more frustrated by the minute.

Tears are prickling on my eyes. I was overreacting, of course, it was a malfunctioning dryer, it happens a lot when you live by yourself, but this was just adding to my stress and I just could not deal with it anymore.

Things were really not going my way. First, I got humiliated by Chris and his no-dating policy, which seems to apply exclusively to me. I mean, he could have just told me he was not interested instead of making up that stupid excuse and run off with the first bimbo that crossed his way.

Second, Becca was being a nightmare. She was a downright bully. I thought I had left these behind in high school, yet she seems to be obsessed with me and I do not know what to do. I tried ignoring her and losing her in the crowd, but she finds me somehow. This school is huge, how she manages to keep zeroing me out?

Finally, my mother breaks the news for me that my dad lost his job and they were out of money. I might not be able to afford to stay enrolled for the rest of semester, and I do not know why I am bothering with learning how to do laundry with those stupid machines in this situation.

If all that was not enough, there is only one scholarship available on campus, and it is still available with good reason. Vazquez requests are bound to be in violation of university guidelines, or at the very least human decency, but I cannot afford to try to find out. After a good, long session of humiliation by that slave driver in the shape of a published author, I picked up my clothes from the suite and pushed my way towards the student laundromat.

Still feeling like a complete loser, I picked myself up and looked around to see if I had any other options. The rest of the machines were full, meaning I either had to figure out how to make this one work or take home my wet clothes.

My eyes lingered on the two other people in the room with me. A girl who smelled suspiciously of smoke and a blonde boy who was dressed quite nicely and was actually kind of cute.

Having no better choice, I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to talk to him, and took a few steps forward to tap him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me.” I said, hoping he was as nice as he looked.

He turned, his golden hair bouncing as he did. “Yes?”

I played with the class ring on my finger, growing more nervous by the second. I should have just taken the wet clothes.

“I’m really sorry to bother you.” I said. “It’s just that… My dryer isn’t working and I was wondering if you maybe knew anything that might help?”

He smiled ruefully, and I was reminded how handsome this boy was. A heat came up to my cheeks and I almost melted on the spot.

“Actually, I just might.” He responded.

He walked over to the machine that had been causing me so much trouble, and I watched curiously.

“Is that the one?” The blond guy asked.

I nodded in response. “The very same.”

He pulled the dryer forward and I silently cursed my pale complexion as I watched the taut muscles under his shirt. I stood in astonishment as he unplugged the dryer, stood there for a second, and then plugged it back.

I almost facepalmed when he swiped his card and pressed start. The machine started up and looked to be working just fine now. I think it was trying to embarrass me on purpose.

“I cannot believe I didn’t think of that.” I said, sheepishly.

He laughed, causing butterflies in my stomach, and waved it off. “It’s not a big deal. Most people wouldn’t think to try that right away.”

“They should hand an IT Crowd poster on the wall…” I mumbled.

To my surprise, he snorted. “Hello, IT support. Have you tried turned it on and off again?”

“Yes! Exactly!” I smiled openly at him. “I really love this show.”

“I do, too. I have a DVD boxset back at my dorm.” The boy told me. “Is this your first year on campus?”

I smiled sheepishly in return. “Is it that obvious?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of things faster than you think.” He responded, confidently. “Or, at least, I hope so.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, rather confused.

“I’m a freshman, too.” It was his time to smile sheepish. “I’m Nathan, nice to meet you.”

“Oh! I’m Emily, nice to meet you, too.” We shook hands. “How did you know how to fix the machine, then?”

Nathan shrugged. “I used that damn machine yesterday. Lucky for me, an upperclassman took pity on me.”

“Well, lucky me, then. For you to have be around today to help.” My mouth turned on a bashful curve.

“Oh, no, lucky me.” He grinned flirtatiously. “Hey, would you want to grab a cup of coffee while we wait for our clothes?”

“Sure, I would…!” I was cut off by the ringtone of my cellphone. My cheeks tint in red. “I’m really sorry for that. Excuse me for a minute. Hello?”

“Where are you, Emily?”

“At the laundromat, Professor Vazquez.” I grimaced. “Washing my clothes.”

“Come back here, I have an assignment for you.” He said and hung up.

I groan in frustration. “God, I do hate that man.”

“I take it you’re the poor sod who got the Vazquez scholarship.” Nathan piped next to me, and I was momentarily spooked, as I forgot he was there. “I heard from a few guys at the dorm that he never kept a student for long, no-one could ever withstand for long.”

“I can see why.” I responded, venomously. “But I don’t have much of an option right now if I want to afford tuition. I’m really sorry, I’ll have to take a raincheck for the coffee today.”

“That’s OK, don’t leave the man waiting. Take my number and call me up when you’re free?” He offered.

“Sure!” I gave him my cellphone and he wrote down his number. “I’ll call you tonight, yeah?”

The blond nodded. “Please do. I would love hearing from you.”

“Thank you so much for your help today!” I waved. “I’ll see you!”

“See ya!”

*_*_*_*_*

Tonight is the night.

The fact of the car I hit was drove by one of her friends was just a lucky coincidence. I did not plan it, but I am glad for it to happen nonetheless.

After all, I am a practical man. I like it when I can solve three problems at once: my quest of dominance over the inbred idiots of this fratority, quelling my abject boredom and destroying of the source of my obsessions for the last two years.

I kept tabs on her, I observed her from afar for all these months. I collected her achievements and I surreptitiously attended every event on her honour. Observing, planning, cultivating a feeling.

Only her humiliation, the absolute breaking down of her character would suffice to me. Everyone thought you were so pretty, so helpful, so nice, so disgustingly perfect. Well, I know better, and I will show everybody the real you, Emily Harper.

If only you had ever called back, we would not be in this situation.

*_*_*_*_*

Taglist: @alicars; @boneandfur; @catlady0911; @choicesyouplayandmore; @cocomaxley; @choicesfannatalie; @emerald-bijou;  @hellospunkiebrewster; @liamxs-world; @lizeboredom; @mfackenthal; @moodygrip; @mrsdrakewalkerblog; @onesuntowngirl; @shelivesinthewoods; @theroyalweisme; @tornbetween2loves; @topsyturvy-dream; @youvileevillittlecockroach

[maxparkhurst]

Crimson

“In the quiet I sit and wonder,

If the image I had were real

Or just that…

An image crafted by my own desire.”

Two years ago

Max stood hidden in the shadowy depths of a Mariner’s Row alley. She watched as tentative raindrops crescendoed from a light drizzle to a full downpour. Rats scurried and took shelter from the storm in open rubbish bins. She only turned her collar to the cold and damp; this cold couldn’t penetrate the frigid numbness she already felt under the black tide’s pull. Her fingers stroked the vials tucked in the folds of her coat, the smooth glass grounding her in the moment.

Are you always going to be a victim?

A man separated from the throng of by-passers and descended into the alley. He walked with a hunch, shivering uncontrollably as he clawed at his neck. Max met him half-way, her myopic gaze drifting up to meet his shifting eyes. They only focused long enough for her to see the bright, desperate light glimmering in his dilated pupils. A cordial smile touched her lips.

“Fifty gold.”

The man bristled as his wild gaze narrowed in on Max. “You’re fucking with me…” he breathed in disbelief. “It was thirty last week!”

“Supply and demand.” Max shrugged. “Fifty. Unless you don’t want it.”

“How ‘bout I take that supply and demand bullshit and shove it up ya’ass!” His hands fell to his sides- revealing the angry, red blisters from where he’d been scratching- and flexed his fingers.

“You’re welcomed to.” Max kept her voice leveled as she procured a vial from her pocket. Its crimson contents stuck out against the gray-scale backdrop, drawing the man’s attention. “But,” she said with an enticing wave, “You’d get none of this.”

He stared long and hard at the vial. His expression darkened as he dropped his head, a hand untying the coin pouch from his belt. “Damn you,” he spat, tossing her the pouch, “And your price gouging.”

Max palmed the pouch and offered the vial out to the vagrant. He snatched it up and yanked the cork with his teeth, shooting down the crimson concoction. A sense of composure seemed to wash over him as his shoulders slackened and his breath evened. She held out the other three vials for him, watching with a measured smile as he pocketed them. “Same time next week?” she inquired.

“Fuck you.”

The vagrant turned briskly on a heel and charged out the alley. Max didn’t need an answer. She already knew he’d be back next week- they always came back for more.

*** Max laid sprawled out on her couch. It’d been here when she moved into the single room apartment, a relic from the previous owners. She made no plans to replace it, despite the pungent scent of tobacco and brine wafting from the futons. This wasn't a permanent domicile. She was only going to stay here long enough to settle Augustine’s custody papers. At least, that’d been her initial intent. Months since her release had passed in a blur. Finding an executor to authenticate their father’s will and write up Max’s legal guardianship over Auggie  proved far more difficult than she could’ve imagined- and far more expensive.

She picked her head up and looked over to her poor excuse for an alchemist’s lab. Vials and alembics crowded a “refurbished” table she found in a back alley, a fresh batch of Crimson simmering over an old burner. The sight of its volatile contents made Max’s stomach turn sour. She collapsed back onto the couch and draped an arm over her eyes.

Crimson had been Vallory’s best kept secret; a secret not even her late husband knew existed. It was a secret she whispered in Max’s ear over a cigarette they shared. The memory still laid fresh in her mind. She could almost feel the cool night air; the heat radiating off of Vallory’s skin; the tenderness of her lips. She shared with Max a secret she’d given no one else and sealed it with a kiss. Her heart ached as she remembered how easily she caved under the woman’s will, allowing all of her vile secrets in.

“You love her...Don’t you?”

Max’s lips pressed into a thin line as the memory shifted. His voice, hoarse and cracked, echoed in the chambers of her mind. She could still see him on the backs of her eyelids, his bulging eyes staring up as he labored for breath. He smiled up at her through a froth of bile.

“She doesn’t love you… She loves no one but herself.”

She knew that now.

Vallory akinned Crimson to prison shackles. Users who typically sought it were looking for a bolster in strength. The poppy extract in it suppressed the flow of glutamate in the brain, blocking the sensation of pain. It was popular amongst brawler rings. But its suppressant properties wasn’t what kept people buying. It was the withdrawal symptoms which followed. Hives, chills, nausea, and fevers were only some of the physical components. Users would experience spells of paranoia, rage, and sometimes suicidal tendencies.

Max witnessed it all through her clients. She found most of them through the underground brawlers ring. While vaguely aware of Crimson’s backlash, Max hadn’t a clue of how potent it really was. She watched over the next several months as these hardy men dissolved into decrepit husks. They quaked and begged at her feet for their fixes, tethered to her bloated prices like rabid dogs. But just as they were shackled to Crimson, so was she.

The executor explained to Max that she’d need to prove her capability as a guardian. She needed to be able to provide a safe home, warm food, and clean clothes for Augustine before they’d let her touch custody papers. Without those said papers, she wasn’t allowed any near her brother. Their Aunt had made sure of it. When news of Max’s release arrived, she’d placed a restraining order which prevented Max from coming within sixty yards of Augustine. She hadn’t even gotten to see him when she found the notice nailed to her apartment door.

They stayed in touch through letters exchanged by way of bottles tucked in the bushes outside the library. Augustine said he found the idea appealing in one of his letters, drawing references to pirates. She had smiled at that one. His letters were what kept Max going most days. She’d read and reread them long into the nights, committing them to memory in case they should ever stop. Some made her laugh and others made her cry. He wrote about his studies; about him and Joseph at the shipyards; about the children from school; about Auntie’s unreasonable requests; about the heaviness in his heart. He wrote that he felt cold and empty; that people were cruel and this world was unfair; that sometimes he wished to go to sleep and never wake up. But mostly, he wrote about how he wanted her to come get him; how he wanted them to sail far away and start a new life; how he really just needed to see her again. In all of her letters, she promised him they would and that it was only a matter of time. She asked him to be patient.

Max’s savings had grown exponentially since she started dealing. A few more transactions and she’d be able to afford the executor and the process of their father’s will could begin. Ruining a few lives along the way seemed like an affordable price. While it’d be one she’d keep paying to ensure her brother’s happiness, it wasn’t one she took exceptional pleasure in. Self loathing sprouted in her chest.  It took root not from guilt but from the fear. At first she thought this fear was of Augustine. What would he think about his murderous sister? She not only took the life of one man, but robbed many of theirs. They’d never know reprieve from their hunger for crimson, suffering long after she and her supply left the Kul’tiran Kingdom. He’d have nothing to think, though, because he’d never find out. Max hid her foot prints well and took every precaution to keep off suspicion. Her secret could die here in Boralus and no one would be the wiser. No, the only thing she feared was herself.

She’d broken a seal- made a decision which could never be undone. If she could kill once then she could again. If she could distribute Crimson in Boralus, what was to stop her from distributing in Stormwind? Temptation would always lurk in the back of her mind.  She realized at that moment what a horrible thing Vallory had done. She hadn’t shared her secret out of love. No, it was out of malice towards her husband. All of it revenge for his treachery. She hadn’t cared about Max as a person. She’d only used her as a means to an end.  Now, just as Max’s clients would never be free of Crimson, she’d never be free of Vallory. Every day she’d have to fight off these temptations; she’d have to fight to be better.

“I have to be better,” Max whispered into the dark room. The alembic simmered. Crimson replied with a bubbling boil. She bit down on her lip and ignored its tempting call. This would be the final batch, she vowed, and no more. No more back alley deals, no more drugs, no more drinking benders, no more shifty people, nothing. She needed to be better.

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” she promised to herself, “I have to be better. I have to be better for him. Better for Auggie.”

Better for Auggie.

Her new mantra. She recited it to herself, whispering it over and over again until she couldn’t recognise her own voice. To obtain anything something of equal value must be lost. She knew this to be her one and only truth.

She forfeited her ties with Vallory

And in return…

She’d be better for Auggie. 

[doof-doofblog]

"You Might Aswell Just Come Out!"

Thursday 10th September

Good evening again everyone! Hope your day has been a good one - whether you've been relaxing at home or whether you've been out and working, hope it's been a good day for you all! We are back again with another episode tonight, we know Tuesday's episode ended with Chantelle dropping the bombshell on Kheerat that she is planning on leaving Gray the very next day!! Clearly something is going to stop Chantelle in her tracks, but what?!

Let's delve right into it! The episode starts with Ian waking up in the Vic, Sharon has only gone and made him a full English Breakfast!! The absolute works! I can still sense the flicker of guilt from him - he doesn't really deserve the Vic or the appreciation that Sharon is giving him. She thanks him for looking after both her and her baby boy, saying how she feels like a princess each time he's ran out to get groceries for her! He's there giving her a smile, even though it looks a bit forced! It's as if everything with Dotty has been forgotten about, Sharon hasn't even begun to even suspect for once that Dotty could be telling the truth. It's only going to hit her harder when she realises.

Across the Square, it looks as if Gray is finally heading back to work. Chantelle is stood behind the counter looking nervous and scared to even talk or move. It's the day she's planning on leaving her husband for good! Before he leaves he asks her whether she has her phone, he demands her to keep it with her, oh you know, just in case! She asks him softly on what time he'll return, she tells him she'll have dinner ready. Is this so she can time it right for her to get away before he gets back? So if what I'm thinking is right - she has until 1 o'clock to get away! As he leaves the house she grabs her phone and makes a call, it sounds as if she's making an enquiry about an apartment or house of some kind that she can stay in? During the phone conversation she looks down at her ring, is she going to pawn her jewellery just so she'll be able to afford it?!

In the Market, Mick bumps into Tina - I'm sure they probably haven't seen each other since lock-down. I'm unsure where Mick and Linda are staying right now but it sounds as if they're all settled in their new home. Linda is doing well to stay sober also, the only downside is that Mick is struggling to find a job, with him being Landlord of the Queen Vic for a good few years, it's probably been hard for him to find something he's qualified for - as he explains to Tina, he's had 4 interviews but not got the job in any of them because he's overqualified! Luckily, Tina decides to give him a permanent position at The Albert. I don't know about you guys but it feels so weird seeing both Mick and Linda looking for jobs in the Square now, they've been a part of the Queen Vic for so long, it's weird not seeing them behind that bar! It's true they're already popular within their neighbourhood and community, I'm sure they'll have plenty of people rallying round them if they needed any help.

In the Mitchell household, Ben still has his little package in his pocket ready to give to Callum. Oh bless! He's all excited and ready to go the seaside to listen to the seagulls with his partner, only Callum refuses to go. I feel sorry for Ben at this moment in time, as he has no idea what Callum has found. He's been struggling to come to terms with the fact that he could potentially lose all his hearing, until yesterday when he had the implant and it was the first time in weeks that he heard Callum's voice! He explains to his boyfriend that that was one of the biggest days of his life and he's disappointed that Callum doesn't seem to care. Only we know, that Callum knows that Ben has been lying to him. It's kinda sad to watch because all Ben is wanting to hear, is Callum tell him that he loves him. Of course Callum wouldn't deny that he doesn't love Ben, but knowing that he's plainly lying to his face is just getting him more and more angry. Why won't Ben tell him the truth? To save him the upset possibly? To not come between him and his job? Who knows? But when Callum decides to bring Danny Hardcastle up, once again Ben lies to his boyfriend and says he's not seen him since that incident at Ruby's. Callum scoffs in disbelief that once again his boyfriend has lied to him, he leaves the conversation before anything else can be said.

The next time we see Chantelle it looks as if she's leaving the pawn shop, Karen approaches her excitedly saying how much she has missed her and the kids. Did any one else notice that Chantelle was fidgeting with her sleeves? Like she was trying to cover up her hands so her Mum wouldn't see that she's not wearing her ring?! Chantelle tries to dash as she uses the excuse she needs to take the children to the dentist. As Karen begins to leave, Chantelle then calls to her Mum that she'll bring the kids round to see her, as she's missed them so much. Plus with Chantelle's plan on leaving, she'll know she'll never forgive herself if her Mum and Dad didn't get the chance to say goodbye to their grandchildren. Only will this cause her to run late and corrupt her plan to get away?!

Ha! Sorry I just need to applaud Dotty for messing with Ian's head! She is brilliant! She actually made him believe that Sharon loves him! Did you see that little smile appear on his face after she walked away?! He actually believed her! Sharon has always said from the beginning that she and Ian are just close friends. Ian has only been "her rock" the past few months out of guilt. She fell apart after Dennis died, he took her in and looked after her and her baby son, and also as a massive gesture - bought her the Queen Vic! And since lock-down he has been living with her and Albie, as Dotty says - in the hopes of things actually getting more romantic and intimate between them. I think it's no secret that Ian has always held a bit of torch for Sharon, they've been close friends for years but I think deep down he has always truly loved her. As for Sharon, she's never seen Ian as anything else other than a close friend, she's never had any romantic feeling towards him - ever! So why the hell should she start now?! I love that Dotty has used this information to her advantage, Ian is only going to make another fool of himself!

Meanwhile, at the Taylor's, Chantelle is visiting her parents. As she sits down and listens to Karen talking about much she is missing Chatham and Riley, also Keegan and Tiffany now they've moved out, Chantelle is looking round and looking at all the family photos. I think she feels this will be the last time in a while that she'll get to see her Mum and Dad, so she's taking everything in. She turns to her Mum and tells her how much she loves her, and how much she loves her family and her parents. I'm sure deep down inside it is killing her knowing she'll be fleeing in a few hours. I just hope she would tell her parents exactly what was happening and why she has to leave. Just for a split moment when Mitch was going to hand her some money, I thought she might've said something then ... she slightly hesitated, did anyone else notice?  She decides to decline her Dad's offer of the money and says to him that Keegan would need it more, she takes one last look at her parents and softly says goodbye to them, not a thought in their mind aware of what she's about to do!

Ooooh look! Frankie's back! It's nice to see her making more of an appearance on the Square! It looks as if Kathy has given her a job at The Albert! Ooops - only to find that Tina has also hired Mick! #Awkward! ... In the recent new trailer that was released, it showed Frankie taking pictures of little Ollie. Does she have some kind of connection to the Carter's? Why would she be taking pictures of Ollie?! I'm looking forward to seeing more of Frankie and what could be her story-line involving the Carter's. I know Frankie was meant to have a story-line with Ben, I kinda have a feeling we haven't seen that yet? Only she was introduced to him by Callum, are we going to see something more from that side of things? Is Frankie going to show Ben the deaf community and how it all works, even though he's slowly getting his hearing back, it would enlighten Ben I think. Poor Mick, he decides to let Frankie have the job at The Albert, but as he leaves you can see the look of disappointment on his face, another job he's potentially lost? Will he be able to find something?

Back at Vic, Linda is having a lovely catch up with her best friend, Sharon. To be honest, it's lovely to see these two having a nice catch up and a chat the way they are. Obviously the roles have reversed with now Sharon behind the bar and Linda sat as a punter - but I watch them and I can't help but think it's so real how they've done it. With the whole social-distancing aspect in place, Sharon is behind the bar and Linda is sat at her table ... I think that whole scene was brilliant and it just felt very realistic. I loved how Ian was eavesdropping on their conversation, Sharon complimenting him on how amazing he's been to her though-out lock-down. He is going to high jump to conclusions! I love how they both laugh at the thought of both herself and Ian being an item, little does the poor man know how humiliated he's going to be!

Does anyone else seem to understand what Vinny and Ruby are up to? I kinda didn't understand that moment, to my understanding Ruby doesn't have insurance for the club? Am I right in thinking that? So Vinny is going to help her in some way - saying she's needs cash or something? I am so confused with this one! Vinny is seen loitering, waiting - for what looks like - Ruby to come out the club, she previously told him the club would be empty with cash in the safe! Is going to try and get that money for something or someone?

Awww and Chantelle looks as if she's ready to flee, she waiting for children, calling for them to hurry. Kheerat approaches her and pleads for her to tell him where she's going. Little does Chantelle that from across the road, Gray is watching her from his car. Watching as Kheerat and Chantelle have their little quick discussion, the look on Chantelle's face is utter fear as Gray makes himself known, Kheerat backs away and Gray reminds her that he didn't want Kheerat talking to her. I really feel for Chantelle right now, she almost got away. She was almost out of his grasp, as they walk into the house - Kheerat watches from a distance, catching Chantelle's eyes and Gray's. I am so sure that Kheerat's going to suss Gray out, he's going to find out exactly what's been happening! The BIG question is - will it be too late before he does?!

Back at The Albert, Ben finally catches up with Callum. He joins him at the table and apologises. He seems to think that Callum is upset because of Danny, but to what extent and why. It's only when Callum reveals that he'd figured out that he'd been lied to for months! He questions him why and what it means for their relationship. Ben claims it's literally because he's joined the police force and nothing else, but then again - it shouldn't matter what Callum's job was, he still should've told him the truth. He claims he was trying to protect him, protect him from what though? Protect his job? Protect his safety? The seriousness of the situation really hits home for Ben when he realises that he's been seen on CCTV! What does this mean for Ben and the Mitchell's? How is Callum going to be able to ignore it?

The following scene, Chantelle is back in her bathroom trying to find a hiding place for the money. She decides to put it in a make-up bag and hide it in the toilet, Gray shouts out for her as she makes herself look busy in the bathroom. Of course the first thing Gray notices, he engagement ring is missing! Oh shit! How is she going to be able to explain that one?! Perhaps say it's gone down the drain something?

Oh gosh this is really cringe-worthy isn't it! Ian trying to find the words to say to Sharon how he feels about her. How many women has he claimed to love on this soap?! Sharon seems to think there's something wrong with Albie, but he decides to jump right in the deep end and pour his heart out to her. Oh and I can see how awkward this is making Sharon feel, an awkward smile on her face, a nervous giggle, twiddling her fingers ... he tells her he loves her and even claims to know that she feels exactly the same way about him ... only when she explains to him that she doesn't, you can see his face drop in dismay. He's clearly realised he's made a huge mistake and has made himself look a fool. What's going to happen now between them? I don't think they'd be able to live together now things have been made to feel awkward between them. Will Ian move out and back in with his Mum while Sharon stays at The Vic?! Will Ian realise that it was Dotty who was playing with his mind?

Okay, so the last scene of tonight's episode, Vinny is seen sneaking out of Ruby's club, carrying a hefty looking bag ... Martin clicks on as to where he came from and begins to give chase. Has Vinny nicked all the money that was in the club's safe?!  Vinny heads to the back entrance of the Minute Mart, Martin slowly closing in ... he calls for him and slowly enters the shop, looking in all the nooks and cranny's. Only Vinny appears from behind and bashes him over the head with a fire extinguisher. Martin is left lying unconscious! What the hell has he done?! and why did he attack Martin in such a way?! Why does Vinny need the money? Was he getting the money for Kheerat as a favour?! Will Martin be okay?!

Once again folks, i'm deeply sorry for this post being posted late! Unfortunately it may take me a few days to write up about tomorrow's episode as i'm going to be away from my laptop/computer for about 3/4 days. But I promise I will be up to date as soon as I can. I hope you all have a fantastic weekend! Thank you all so much for taking your time to read my blog, I know the posts can be long but I just want you to know I appreciate it immensely! Thanks again folks! xXx

[quirklove]

Tomura with a motherly hero s/o✨💫yes I required this now❤️ pretty please with a cherry on top?💕💕💗💕 or anything Tomura related will bring me great joy💗💗💕💗

me, looking at Tomura with a motherly hero S/O who loves and wants to take care of him: this sparks joy

also this got embarrassingly long wHOOPS I UH.................

I have no defense for myself, jUST TAKE IT

this is based on, A, the “let her come to me” scene from Moana, and B, the OC I’m currently fleshing out to ship with Tomura, but I tried to make most of it vague enough that u can obviously substitute urself or ur own OC!!! <3

                                        you’ll always be safe with me                                               now that I found you                                                     you will see                                              my love surround you                                                 soft as a rainbow                                                   I’ll be your halo                                        you’ll always be safe with me.

                                    ―Megan Nicole, “Safe With Me”

When the other heroes at (Name)’s agency, her coworkers and her interns and everyone who keeps her place running, tried to keep her apart from TOMURA Shigaraki, she knew it was just out of concern for her. (She’s kind, not stupid, and she knows her lover is far from a beacon of purity.)

She told them she would focus on her agency for a bit, which is the same thing she told Tomura, because she felt it was the solution. Her friends would relax knowing she didn’t spend every single night lying next to a villain who could kill her by holding her hand, if he wanted to. Tomura would sulk without her presence, but ultimately, letting him know that she’d be busy for a month or two would assure him it wasn’t personal.

Her agency would improve for her being there more often, and she could reassure her friends that Tomura wasn’t going to hurt her, turn her to villainy, or hurt anyone else who was close to her. The relationship between her and Tomura would only strengthen with a little absence, and she could go back to him without any hurt feelings.

The fact that Tomura is tearing through her agency right now tells her that she has made a significant error in judgment.

All of her friends are terrified, either holed up in closets or out there trying to keep him away from the security room where she’s watching everything. Despite the fact that he isn’t using his Quirk on any of them, he is using other physical weapons, and he’s not showing any mercy. While it’s scaring everyone else, to see him doing this is just sad to (Name).

He’s minus the hands that he normally has attached to him, including the one that covers his face. His skin is paler and drier and there are tears running down his face. He’s breaking things and shoving her coworkers and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Let me see her! I can’t do this! I can’t do it anymore! I need her! You took her away from me, you bastards!! I NEED HER!”

She’s seen Tomura cry before, but never like this. It’s like his soul is being shredded apart, coming out in grating shrieks that scrape his throat raw. This is a desperate man ― someone who believes that the one person who has ever shown him kindness is never returning to him.

And he’s dealing with that possibility the same way he deals with every other stressor: violence. He doesn’t know how else to handle any kind of feelings, even now that his mental state is starting to improve. This is a side of him she hasn’t seen in quite a while, as if he’s regressed because he thinks he’s lost her entirely.

Surely he can’t really think that…?

As she watches, it becomes apparent that he doesn’t take any particular pleasure in causing this chaos and pain. Because he thinks her friends don’t want him here, however, it’s the only thing he’s prepared for, and the others have only reinforced that by attacking him.

Suddenly, a high-pitched whine from the PA system echoes through every single room, before (Name)’s voice rings out.

“Heroes, stop fighting. Let him come to me.”

The interruption stuns everyone who’s currently engaged in battle, including Tomura. From what she can see through the monitors, he looks shocked to hear her, and shocked at what she’s saying. The expression on his face reads as if he’s just heard an angel speaking to him and he’s not sure whether to believe it’s real.

One of her coworkers glances toward the speaker and slowly shakes his head. “Are you crazy, (Name)? No chance! He’s gonna hurt you!”

Even though it’s not unreasonable to think, she knows it isn’t the case. Tomura doesn’t want to hurt her. The pieces have clicked together in her mind, and she knows what he wants.

“Please,” she adds with a tone that is softer and yet somehow firmer. “I know what I’m doing.”

Tears form in her eyes and she has no doubt that everyone can hear them in her voice.

“Let him come to me.”

Her friends all look at each other, then at Tomura. At last, they step aside into the wreckage, affording him a clear path. “She’s in the security office. Please don’t hurt her. Please.”

All of about five seconds pass before Tomura is standing before (Name). He’s so distraught that he’s used his Quirk the door, leaving it a pile of dust.

His posture now is sheepish, as if he’s afraid to face her after what he’s just done. He shifts from one foot to another, unsure of how to distribute his weight, and both hands keep rubbing at the opposite arm, then fidgeting with his fingers, then repeating the process. It reminds her of a child with separation anxiety who’s admitted to messing up the entire house because he missed his parents. He knows it was wrong, but he was so upset and frustrated and he didn’t know what else to do.

She takes a step toward him with the intention of pulling him close. “Tomura, I’m so sor―”

That little step she took seems to be the inch he needs to take a mile. Her words are cut off as he rushes forward, throwing his arms around her. “No, don’t be! I’m sorry!! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, (Name), I’m sorry!” He’s sobbing into her shoulder and breaking down so loudly that she’s sure her friends can hear it in the other room. His arms are so tight it feels like he never wants to let go.

“Whatever I did, I’ll… I’ll make up for it, I promise! A-am I too ugly? I’ll start covering up my scars, and I’ll ― I’ll brush my hair, and I’ll shower more often, and… and what else is it? I always, always planned to spare you, but if you want me to spare a few other people, I’ll do that too! I’ll… I’ll be smarter, and I can dress better, and ― and I’ll even let you win every single game we play!”

His tears are soaking into her shirt now; he’s crying to the point where it sounds like his breathing is suffering for it. His legs shake, and when he pulls her down to the ground, she doesn’t stop him. “Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix myself!!”

For a long moment, she can only stare at him in sorrow. He looks broken. He obviously feels broken. He thinks he’s done something so bad just by existing day to day, something so bad that she never wanted to see him again, when she told him outright that it was work, and that she was going to see him again.

How hurt has he been that he thinks he’s going to be left alone even when he was explicitly told she would come back?

How deep does his pain go that he believes he must have done something wrong to drive her away, when she’s stayed with him so long already?

Has he not been through enough? When will his mind stop tormenting him? Is there anything that can be said or done that might have even a small chance at healing this poor man?

“Tomura… sweetheart…” Her surprise gives way to concern almost in an instant, and then gradually, into the confidence she needs to at least begin to try to help him. Her arms circle around him in kind, drawing him as close as she possibly can. If she could meld the two of them into a single being and make him feel how much she loves him, she would. She can’t. This and talking will have to do. “This had nothing to do with you. The agency needed me around a little more for a bit. That’s all.”

He doesn’t believe her, because he keeps crying. She’s never seen him like this. “You left me! You left me all by myself and it’s been so long and you weren’t going to come back!” When he pulls away to look up at her, she sees it clearly: his neck. There are long scratch marks over it, some healing and scabbed over, some with freshly dried blood. They look worse than she’s ever seen them. “And I need you! You’re the only good thing I ever found in this stupid fucking world and I can’t…” His voice comes out in a choked whisper, “… I can’t go back to being alone. They took you away and they don’t want you with me and you were going to stay here and… and never…”

A few quiet shushes fall from her lips as she takes him in her arms again. “Shhh, shh, Tomura. I was going to come back. I love you so much.” She draws back and ghosts her fingers over his neck. She can’t help but frown, especially as she sees him shudder… both from the physical sensation, and with obvious disgust in himself as he must think she’s repulsed. “I love you,” she repeats even more fiercely.

She runs her hand through his hair and once more wraps him up in an embrace. “I would never leave you alone. And if that isn’t the kind of statement you can trust, that’s okay. But I want you to be able to trust me. That’s what relationships are built on. Trust.” Her forehead rests against his, and gradually, she feels his shallow, frenzied breathing begin to get deeper and slower. “I will never, ever leave you. If you can’t trust someone saying that and meaning it, that’s okay, too. Just trust me. You are the love of my life. Even though work takes me away sometimes, I’m not going to be gone forever, and even when it happens, it’s not because of anything you did.”

She offers him a smile, which he can only feel because her lips rest lightly against his. “Your messy hair and clothes are adorable. You don’t need to hide your scars, because they’re a part of you… but I just don’t want you being in so much pain that you make new ones. I want those scars to be a symbol of something you survived. That something tried to take you down, and you were strong enough to come out on top, even if you were fighting against yourself. We can take showers together. And I don’t need to win games.”

Her heart feels so heavy when he trembles in her arms, wanting to be closer to her, because she’s failed to protect him. Once she realized just how traumatized this man is, she silently vowed to keep him safe in any way she could. She’s broken that vow, and she will not break it again.

“It’s true that I would be relieved if you abandoned the idea of razing the world to the ground. But just because you think that’s a solution to your pain, it doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of my love. You’re human, just like me. Just like the rest of us. And you’ve been hurt.” She takes his face in her hands and kisses his lips. They’re chapped and raw against hers, but he readily kisses back as if he’s hungry for her. “You deserve to be loved, Tomura. And for as long as you can stand my insufferable hero company, I want to be someone who gives it to you.”

His breath is quivery against her lips before he buries his face in her neck and sobs again. “I… I miss you. I was so scared you weren’t going to come back… the thought of never seeing you again… it drove me crazy. I-I couldn’t take it. You matter more than anything else. I need you. You’re the only good thing about this world and I… I didn’t…” He tightens his arms around her. “I didn’t want that to go away. You take such good care of me and it’s like you love everyone and everything…”

She feels his frame shake with a laugh. “I-I never understand how you do it! Sometimes you just seem like that’s all you want to do is take care of everything and make sure the people you care about are okay, and I look at you and I think, ‘How the hell does she do that?!’ Because… y-you’re the only thing I care about in this world… the only thing I really care about… I hate everything else. Everyone else. I can’t imagine caring about everything and everyone like you do. But it’s… it’s nice. You’re so full of love. You’re so warm.” How he manages to grip her tighter still, she doesn’t quite know.

“… I just… don’t want you to ever go away… I want to have you with me forever… I want to be someone who deserves to have your light shining on me… I love you… I-I need you…”

Things seem calmer now. His rage and panic have cooled from a wildfire to a bed of dying embers. Now he’s simply holding onto her as if she’s his last connection to the world. She continues to stroke his hair as they sit on the floor together, two people on opposite sides of a fight who love each other. It makes them both think maybe there’s hope.

“I need you, too,” she whispers against the shell of his ear. “More than anything, I just want to take care of you. Nobody else has ever done that and you deserve it. Everything that happened to you should never have happened. But it did. And now I want to do what everyone should have done for you from the beginning. I promise you, I will never leave you alone, even if sometimes I have to be away from you.”

She kisses the top of his head, his forehead, down his cheeks, against his jaw, even against the scars and new marks on his neck. She pauses when she sees them, reminded of how isolated he must have been these last few weeks without seeing her every day. “Tomura,” she murmurs with her lips next to these wounds. “If I’m going to take care of you, you need to take care of yourself, too. Whenever I’m away… you still have your cell phone, right? I should give you a call every day. I’m sorry I didn’t do that before. Would that make you feel better about me being away? Talking to me every day ― do you think that might help reassure you that I’m not going to leave?”

He’s quiet for a moment; just soaking in her touch and that warmth of hers he can feel. It’s a luxury he got used to and when it was suddenly taken away, he missed it more than anything. “… I… I guess… we could try that. It’s not the same as holding you… but… I do like hearing your voice. It would be better than nothing.”

“We could do a video call,” she amends. “That way you can see my face too.” She presses the tip of her nose against his. “And I could see yours. I like hearing your voice and seeing your face, too. Even if it’s not the same as being together.”

“Mmh.” He nods tiredly. His fury is gone, replaced only with a need for her. “Can I call you any time? Whenever I feel… like this? Worried and lonely? Whenever I want to make sure you’re still coming back?”

She lavishes more kisses on his neck and his cheeks, her fingers gently untangling any knots they find in his hair. (Just because it’s messy and cute doesn’t mean she wants it forming clumps that are going to be agonizing to get out.) “I might not pick up if I’m in the middle of something, but as soon as I see that you called me, I’ll call you back. Is that okay?”

“I… I guess that… would be fine.” He sighs, accompanied by a slumping of his shoulders. “What’s that word I… have to work on? ‘Compromise’?”

She can’t help a laugh from bubbling up out of her throat. “You’re doing good so far. We can make this work. We just need to talk to each other. I’m sorry I didn’t think of any of this before. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Counting the minutes until I could come be with you again.”

The smile he gives her is small, genuine, almost shy in a way. “… That helps a little.”

“Good. Now, Tomura… honey.” Another kiss. “Could you apologize to my friends? You scared them a lot, and you did hurt some of them. It might make them less inclined to think bad about you if they know you’re sorry.”

A puff of air is snorted through his nose. “… I probably… should, shouldn’t I?”

“Like I said, it would be a good idea.”

“Hm. Well ― could you come spend the night with me?”

Her mouth curves upward. She knows she can’t bribe him forever, but he seems to be starting to learn on his own, too. “I could, and I would, and I would love to.”

“… Fine. Then I’ll go say sorry.”

She rewards him with another kiss, which he eagerly returns. “There’s my good boy.”

[salenakingston]

Decided to kick things off by doing a sample prompt to try and get my work out there. I asked my fiancé to pick a prompt and I rolled with it. Thanks my beloved. Any other prompts I get will follow this same format. Might as well get that out of the way. Any warnings will be placed at the top and in the tags.

Prompt: “it could be worse.”

“You aren’t the one bleeding.”

“Look, you are still alive. Stop whining.”

Warnings: Bodies/Corpses, Blood, Cannibalism, Violence, Death

Timeline of Events: Pre-Whitegale Estate (Backstory)

Total Word Count: 2,169 words

What was once believed to be impossible became a reality when a single switch had been flipped, the world around every living being changing forever. Living in a day and age where crime and punishment was seen in just black and white rather than a spectrum came with their own set of consequences.

A blazing fire.

Rotting flesh.

Screams.

Anger boiled out from one source, unable to be contained by the loss that had been suffered. Sickly green and the sheen of silver surrounded the space. It consumed anything that it touched, much like the same orange that enraged there once before. The smell was disgusting, but there was a certain amount of pleasure that came with it. It meant that the fires were winning. Wires tore, fire blazed, and blood painted the wood, stone, and earth beneath.

And then there was the continued screaming.

So much terror, but almost like it was music. At least that was how it started.

Then its luster began to fade.

The voices and ringing grew louder.

Louder.

LOUDER.

SCREAMING.

The sound of metal clinking against tile echoed through the room. A tool had been dropped from a shaking hand, a hand belonging to a tired looking man. Even though he wasn’t that old, nearly all of his hairs had turned white. A ratted duster covered most of his exposed body, the smell of iron hanging in the air around him. Bloody and bandaged fingers gripped at the side of a metal table, bile rising in his mouth as he leaned over. This was not the first time something like this had happened, though rarely was it when he was awake. He must have been trying a new tactic.

As if any of the other ones he had already tried weren’t bad enough.

“Stop!” The man’s voice rang out in the seemingly empty air. A chuckle echoed in the back of his mind, a pain spiking along the side of his head. Hands tightened around the grip of the table, sure that if he were to let go that he would crumble to the floor. He couldn’t make it seem like he had given in, even if it meant choosing the illogical option of the two placed in front of him. Standing in the face of pain seemed a much more bold display than falling and clinging to the spot where the pain emanated.

The chuckling didn’t stop, and soon shifted more into laughter. It had such a taunting tone to it, mocking the man for his current position. A voice pushed its way to the forefront of any of his thoughts, “Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t like taking a walk down memory lane?”

“I am w-wor-rking.” The man stuttered out. His once confident voice began to deteriorate when this demon invaded. He couldn’t hide how tiring it was to keep fighting back.

His eyes flashed for a moment, green flickering to orange, “Come on Malceum. You’ve been picking at these bodies for hours. Let’s go have some fun.”

“No. I-I’m so c-clos-se. I ca-an f-feel it.”

An entire lifetime’s worth of knowledge could have been, no.. had been, crammed into the man’s head since magic and the unknown became as real as anything else. The coined title of a ‘warlock’ held very little meaning when their powers couldn’t be seen by any passing person that he came across. Most information had been very hard to come by, but he had managed. Desperation drove him to pursue this knowledge by any means necessary, consequences be damned.

He was already suffering far worse than whatever sort of law enforcement might be able to do to him.

He couldn’t stop working. Sleep was an afterthought. Food was something only to be taken when absolutely necessary, unless he was forced to by his tormentor. He was always so careful, every cut precise, each test ran to the finest process. His surgeon skills were placed perfectly to obtain anything he needed, and there never seemed to be a shortage of bodies for him to use, whether that came from work, or by his own hands.

Even through the bandages he could feel his skin coated with blood. Sometimes he disgusted himself at the level of brutality he would do to a corpse, but it all faded when he remembered who he was doing all this for.

No, he couldn’t afford to stop working for a moment.

But he didn’t like that. He didn’t like getting ‘no’ for an answer.

Eyes flickered again, that familiar feeling of bile beginning to rise in his throat. His head pressed to the table, dry heaving above the pristine tile. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold onto himself before one of two outcomes were to take place. He would take over, or he would have to endure another punishment. It seemed that he was keen on the former of those two this time around.

Sickness was just a means of bending his plaything to his will.

After a valiant effort on his host’s part, the flames of his eyes finally faded, and in their place came those silted orange ones. How nice it was to be able to be the one in control again. Pushing himself back up, his arms stretched out, no longer feeling any sort of pain radiating, “Sorry my dear host, but you’ve been in here for far too long. Let’s go for a little evening stroll.”

Was it evening already? Just how much time had really passed since he had begun working? Everything just seemed to blur together for him.

They left the lab, tucked safely under his own office building. Being a private surgeon had its perks, especially when considering the country he lived in. Germany never did have a good reputation, but it with the people that lived here, or with other nations at large. The pay was alright, and good thing too when it came to getting more that was required for the project at hand. They turned around, making sure the door was locked out of habit, but mostly because he knew his host would panic otherwise.

They turned down the street, pulling the hood of his duster up. They had been sure to clear their hands before coming out here, but the same could not be said for the splatters of red staining brown along his chest. It didn’t seem to bother them anyways. They kept their head held high, not paying too much mind to the lights beaming down from lamps, or the glow that shined from the moon and stars above.

Well, now it was more a matter of finding some entertainment. That was the whole point of this anyways.

Orange eyes darted around the streets in front of him. Now then, what would be a perfect place? It’ll have to be somewhere secluded, or easy to access for such a thing. Maybe we should feast again. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

No…

A strong arm soon wrapped around their tiny torso, pulling him into a nearby alley. There wasn’t much of a point to fighting back, as this could be just the kind of entertainment that he was seeking. They were dragged further into the darkness, their eyes seeming to be the only thing that glowed against their surroundings. The tugging soon stopped, their body colliding into a brick wall. Well, wasn’t this just as cliché as it got? Right down to the number of bodies he managed to catch in the moonlight, their armed persons, and even some of them waving magic around as if it was supposed to be threatening.

Fools.

They should run.

But they won’t. You’re an easy target.

They brush themselves off, standing up properly before addressing the thugs, “What a shame you all must be to this supposed great country. Just living up to what the world thinks of us aren’t you?”

“This one’s sure got a mouth on him.” “Oh don’t worry, we’ll fix that.”

Typical, and stupid. They were the ones in danger.

Run!

They stepped forward, concern thrown out the window as they casually placed one hand on the closest thug, “Now listen here, I’m a very busy man. This has been fun, but I can guarantee this little interaction is going to be far too boring for me. Maybe I’ll be nice just this one time and let you all leave with your lives. How’s that sound?”

All of them seemed genuinely shocked, as if they had never had one of their victims act so bold before. But they knew how this was going to go. The group was going to swell their ego. They were not going to let this one man simply walk away. A pity that none of them ever learned. Oh well, guess he was going to have to take this. He would find a way to make this more thrilling.

They felt something insert itself inside them. More than one thing really. How dull. Their weapons tore along the broken man’s body, echoes of cries ringing in their head. Oh his poor, little toy. Laughter exploded from the man’s lips. There was hesitance around him, eyebrows raising, positions frozen. Their laughter didn’t seem to die down at all, and the longer it went on, the more wrong this all seemed to be.

Shines of silver began to shine from the man’s body, almost like tiny little threads were twirling around them. Without much warning, the threads, wires, took hold of their victims. The weapons fell from their body, clanging to the stone walkway of the alley. They stepped over towards one of their victims, an ear to ear grin stretching across their face, “Poor sods. I was willing to be nice, but you didn’t want to listen.”

Stop.

“You know, my host hasn’t had a good meal for a while. I would know, I am constantly watching him. Maybe it’s time we fixed that.”

Stop!

“Maybe I’ll even be much more generous and gift him some new test subjects for his little project. You all should be honored!”

STOP! They stepped close, the wires wrapping tightly around the victims’ bodies, specifically over their mouths. Couldn’t let anyone hear their screaming now could they? The last thing that thug saw was a row of sharp teeth, something no human should ever have. They sank into his flesh, ripping and tearing the skin before devouring the meat to their heart’s content.

He was disgusted.

He hated himself.

He never wanted a life like this. Why did he have to do this to him?

Wires dragged the new corpses back in the darkness, coming back to the door of a familiar office. It was unlocked, and then the man stepped back inside. His grin hadn’t faded, not even as he padded down the familiar steps to the lab, “That was actually quite fun, and look! Your stomach isn’t empty anymore. Aren’t I just so kind to you?”

Silence.

Once they came to the same surgical room, the bodies were tossed to one corner, as if they were nothing more than just trash. They stepped over to a mirror, arms lifting up to undo the duster. There were a few deep gashing along their chest, something only seemed to bother the one that had become nothing more than a voice. Their shoulders shrugged at the sight, “It could be worse.”

You’re not the one bleeding.

“Look, you’re still alive. Stop whining. As if I would let anything happen to my little pet. If you were dying, I’d be the first to know. You’re fine.”

No… he wasn’t. He hadn’t been for a long time.

But that’s why he was here in the first place, wasn’t he?

They guided their body over to the numerous medical supplies, hands coming together, “Come now, let’s get you patched up.”

The rest of the night dragged on, harsher than it needed to be with his form of healing. By the time Malceum had come back into the picture, his mind was more tired, and his body spent. He finally was able to make his way to bed, off to a sleep he knew would not be pleasant. When he woke up the next morning…? Was it morning? The sun was out, but time was broken to him. It didn’t really matter, not having anything scheduled for today.

A paper rested at his doorstep, a familiar news article about a brutal mauling in the city’s alleys staring him in the face. This was not the first time he had seen this, and was sure it would not be the last. Slipping into a cleaner duster, the man returned to the lab, iron smacking his senses. Right… his new subjects. Well… might as well use them since they were here.

Time to get to work?

A sigh, “T-Tim-me to get to w-work.”

[just--clownin-around]

All the Money in Gotham

Request: Hi can you write Arthur x rich reader where they run away to get married and then return like nothing happened and when readers parents ask about her ring she said she got it from an antic store can you add an age gap if you want

A/N: I’m gonna have the reader be like 25, but still living with their parents. 

Warnings: Age gap, insecure Arthur for just a second there, mean parents, arguing, cursing, angst

~~~~~~~~

     You had never been so in love in your life. You had met Arthur one day on the subway. It was only briefly, but enough to catch your attention. You had always hated the lifestyle you were forced into. Of course, no one in their right mind would be daft enough to complain about having money. That’s not where your problem lay. Your problem was that you were expected to fit in with these other rich people who just ignored the fact that all the rest of Gotham was in shambles. You weren’t like that. In fact, you just wanted to feel normal, which was why you were on the subway that day. When you met him, he was dressed as a clown. You were completely intrigued, and decided to make conversation with him, and the rest is history. You made a friend that day, and you and him grew closer and closer until you were so much more than friends. You could never tell either of your parents, but you had even been known to even slip him money so he’d have a little extra to pay the bills. And today, as you sat him, your adoring boyfriend, the two of you were talking about a very serious subject. 

“I really want to marry you, Y/N,”  He blurted out, completely at random. You paused, keeping quiet for a moment. When he got no response, he started to panic. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” He began, stumbling over his words, but you quieted him with a hand on his arm. “No, no, I want to marry you too.” You smile softly at him. “Then what’s the matter?” He asked, looking into your eyes with a hint of sadness. “It’s my parents. And this dumb city. It’s everything. God only knows what my parents would do to me if...” You trailed off. You couldn’t finish this sentence. You couldn’t hurt him like that. “If you married a poor man?” He finished for you, pain evident in his tone. “I’m not like them Arthur. I don’t care about some fucking number with a damn dollar sign attached to it. In fact, let’s... Let’s run away. I refuse to let them ruin my life. I refuse to let them take me away from you.” You looked into his eyes with a sense of determination. “Do you really mean it?” He asked, unsure of himself. “I really do.” You say back, without an ounce of uncertainty.  

And so the two of you did. Arthur saved up some money and bought you a ring from a secondhand store, and its origins didn’t matter to you. It was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, you didn’t care what the price was. You were proud to wear it on your finger. The two of you took the subway as far as it would take you, then boarded the next one and took it even further. Away from that wretched place, away from your parents. The two of you wore your best clothing, Arthur in a red suit and yellow vest, you in a white lace blouse and a white skirt. And you absolutely loved it. He had his hair slicked back and a smile on his face, and you would never have asked for anything different. All you cared about was him. You went to a courthouse and got your marriage finalized, and the two of you couldn’t be happier. 

When the two of you got back to Gotham, you inevitably had to see your parents again. Your game plan was to tell them that you had left Gotham just to get a break from all the riots and politics and keep your marriage a secret. You figured that what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Sitting at dinner your first night back, your mother kept looking at you out of the corner of her eyes. You had grown up around this type of behavior, so you didn’t really question it. Your parents always had something to say about anything and everything. The peace that had settled in your brain over the past week was interrupted by a single question from your mother. “Interesting ring, dear. Where ever did you get it?” She asked, in the most annoyingly proper way possible. “An antique store.” You say shortly, not wanting to entertain her interrogations. “Fascinating. You could have any ring there is at any price, with real diamonds or pearls, anything you could imagine, and you chose that?” She asked, voice dripping with distaste. You sigh, holding your fork in your hand and stilling your hands to set them on the table. “Yes, mother. I bought this ring. I thought it was minimalistic and beautiful. Not everything needs to be extravagant and $5,000 to be worth wearing.” You say, matching her tone and looking her in the eyes with a sharp look. “I see. Any particular reason you’re wearing it on your left hand? I should assume you would know that’s where a wedding ring goes.” She pushes, tipping you over the edge. “Yes, I do know that. It’s on that hand because I am married. That’s where I’ve been. I married a man that I love.” You say. You loved him and would stand up for him no matter what, consequences be damned. “And I suppose he bought that ring for you?” She asked, with venom lacing her voice. “Yes.” You respond, jaw clenched. “Is that all he could afford?” She snorted, making a mockery of both you and him. “That doesn’t matter.” Your fist was starting to clench too now, knuckles turning white around your fork. Her words and her tone, everything about her and this damn construct, was seeping into your veins and setting them aflame. You began to tremble with rage, not being able to stand this judgment being thrown at Arthur by your own family. She didn’t even know his name, and yet had the audacity to sit there and speak of him as though he wasn’t worth the dirt on the bottom of her shoes. It made your blood boil. “It does matter!” She exclaimed, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I will not have my daughter married to some street rat living under my roof!” You dropped your fork, slamming your hands on the table and standing up. “Fine! If that’s what you think of me— If that’s what you think of him— then I will gladly go." You look to your father, who was looking at you with the same bitterness as your mother, and turned to leave. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” You say over your shoulder, not even actually waiting to leave. 

You grabbed your coat, too impatient to wait on the subway, and walked to Arthur’s apartment all the way across town with a fire in your heart you had never felt before. You didn’t even notice the rain soaking through your hair and your clothes. You just needed to see him. By the time you reached his door, you had tears filling your eyes and were trembling from the cold. You were feeling a lot of things. Anger, resentment, frustration, loss, but more than anything an unbridled love and dedication to Arthur. He opened his door to see you dripping in the hall, and immediately pulled you inside. “What happened?” He asked, his stomach in knots with worry. “Wait, before we talk about that, you need to get into something dry.” He disappears into his room and comes back with a long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants. You didn’t bother switching rooms to change, he was your husband after all. As you were changing, he raised his question once more. “What happened?” He asked. “My mom found out about us. She kicked me out.” You say as you finish changing. He’s in front of you in an instant. “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry-” he says, not being able to finish one thought before moving onto the next. “Hey,” You cut him off with a soft smile, “It’s alright. All the money in Gotham couldn’t buy me from you.” You smile at him, and he grins back. “We're going to figure this out.” He promises you. It wasn’t need though, you’d walk into this cold, dark world completely blind, as long as he held your hand through it.