#sir do you have ANYTHING in savings??? please at least some for car repairs

[simplyghosting]

Typing out people’s spending reports like 🫣

[thefanficmonster]

I’m Right Here

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident (minor), Injuries

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: There is nothing scarier than those moments when every breath you take is shallow; when your heart is racing and your body is drenched in cold sweat. When you are rushing to the aid of a hurt loved one, knowing you can never be fast enough because your mind and fear are at least a mile ahead of you. Corpse has to experience these exact moments after a frightening call that informs him of his girlfriend’s car accident.

Requested by @sugiliteshadow . Hi! Thank you so much for you request, darling. Sorry to be posting it so late and I can’t thank you enough for your patience. I hope the fic itself makes up for the wait. Please enjoy! Stay safe! Love, Vy ❤

It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Y/N and my concern is through the roof. She called me from the parking lot of the office building where she works at, telling me she’s be home in less than half an hour and asking if I needed her to pick up anything along the way. I have been trying to brush away the worries, comforting myself with the fact that I did request a specific type of iced tea and knowing Y/N, she’s probably looking for it in multiple stores because she couldn’t find it in the convenience store that’s along her way back home. I should’ve told her not to sweat it considering I don’t need it right away or anything.  I have tried distracting myself with editing just to hinder myself from picking up my phone and debating weather to call her or not. I may be worried but I don’t wanna put her life in danger by calling her while she’s driving.

I keep my hands on my keyboard and mouse, my phone halfway across the room just in case. Another thirty minutes pass by with no sound of the door being unlocked or even a car pulling up. My fingers are beginning to drum over the buttons on my keyboard anxiously. I have had to go back and redo so many things with the video I’m editing because my mind simply isn’t present. It’s wandering around the city, looking for that one familiar car that’s always outside our house, parked in the driveway. That’s currently being driven by my girlfriend of two years Y/N.

My phone’s ringtone snaps me out of the downwards spiral of my thoughts, simultaneously picking up the speed of my heartbeat. I basically launch myself out of my chair and towards the bed where the ringing is coming from. I feel a wave of relief rush over me when I see Y/N’s name on the lit screen.

“Hey babe, where have you been?“ I ask as soon as I answer the call. It feels like my whole body shuts down when I finally pick up on the sound of blaring sirens in the background.

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you Miss Y/L/N has been in an accident.” The words the female voice on the phone says cut through me like a knife, sending chills of paralyzing fear all over my body, “You were the last person she contacted before the accident which is why we’ve stepped in contact with you. However, if you are not able to come collect Miss Y/L/N, please contact a family member of hers.“

The calmness of her tone is freaking me out of my skin and mind, “Is she ok?! Where is she?!“

“She’s alright, sir. She’s not completely conscious yet, though. But she will be by the time you arrive. Her injuries are not in any way life-threatening. She has a few cuts and bruises and a concussion. A medical team has already taken care of her.“

Before I know it, I’m already out the door, the location the policewoman gave me in my head as I get behind the wheel of my car which I rarely use. Thankfully, the road the accident happened on is less than fifteen minutes away. Due to the late hour there is close to no traffic on the roads so I make it to the scene in no time.  Y/N’s car is surrounded by two cop cars and two ambulances. I barely even notice the black Honda Civic that is almost equally as beat up as Y/N’s Toyota. Speaking of the Toyota, its front bumper is completely obliterated - the headlights, blinkers and windshield in pieces and shards on the pavement. 

In the first ambulance there’s a guy passed out on a gurney with an ivy rip connected to his arm. In the one next to it is Y/N, sitting hunched over with her head hanging low, her hair falling over her face. 

“Y/N?“ I rush over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but withdrawing my arm in case she has a bruise in that spot.

She lifts her head, a look of relief and happiness flashing across her face. She lets out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “Corpse...” her hand reaches out for mine which is still hanging in the air. I give her my other hand and she uses me as support to slowly stand up. She lets go of my hands and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as a quiet sob leaves her chest. “I was so scared when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. I’m here, I’m right here.“ I gently smooth her hair while carefully holding her in my embrace. She has a few purple bruises along her arms and cuts on her cheek and neck which are covered in white bandages with small dark red stains. The most major thing I can see is the cut on her left temple which is also covered up. I press a tender kiss to the right one. “Are you in any pain?“ I pull away to get a better look at her.

Thankfully she shakes her head, “No, I’m ok. My elbow hurts a little but that’s it.”

I nod, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead. Just as I’m about to ask her what exactly happened one one of the police officers approaches us.

“A drunk driver. He ran the red light and crashed straight into her car.“ The officer says, judging by her voice it’s the same woman that called me. “You don’t remember that, do you?“

Y/N turns to her, “I just remember hearing a loud crash and then darkness. I didn’t know what had happened until you told me when I woke up.”

The policewoman gives us a sincere smile, lightly touching Y/N’s shoulder “It’s ok, sweetheart. You are alright, that’s what matters. And you have someone here by your side.”

Y/N’s eyes meet mine when she gives me the most loving glance, the one that I often catch in her eyes - the one that always melts me. “He always is.” she says, running her fingers down my arm, interlocking hers with mine when they reach my hand.

The policewoman tells us good night and walks over to the other ambulance. We stick around to see the cars get taken away and Y/N gives her info so they can contact her when the car is repaired. I know how much she loves that car - it’s the first and only car she has ever owned. She has had it for about seven years and calls it her child basically. I never thought I’d be jealous of a car in my life - just kidding. But my point has been made - she’s never been apart from it or driven another car.

Wrapping my arm around her while she watches her car being taken away, I turn her around, leading her towards my car. “Let’s get you home. You’ll be 100% under my care and no complaints will be accepted.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, snuggling up into my side, “Don’t make a big deal about this please. And, for the love of God, don’t baby me too much, ok?”

I grin down at her, “What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?“

“Corpseeee...“ She pouts, a frown on her face, making her look so childish it’s absolutely adorable.

“Save the whining, it ain’t gonna work.“ I open the door to the passenger seat, stepping aside so she can get in the my car.

Surprisingly enough, she actually doesn’t complain the rest of the way home nor when we arrive. Nor when I instruct her to stay in bed and not move unless it’s absolutely necessary. I basically bring all the snacks from the kitchen into our room while she compiles a list of movies we will be watching because no sleep will be had tonight.  “I love you.“ Y/N says through a sigh halfway through the second movie.

“I love you too. But don’t fall asleep.“ I tickle her side, causing her to giggle and squirm in an attempt to get away from me.

“Ok, ok, but you’re gonna have to help me. If I blink, I’ll be a goner.“ She yawns, shuffling back towards me. When she flashes me that hinting wide smile, I know exactly what she’s insinuating.

I sigh, giving in with ease. “When you were here before...“

“Couldn’t look you in the eye...“ she backs me up just as I knew she would

“You’re just like an angel...“

“Your skin makes me cry...“

Needless to say, we end up duetting random songs - rap songs, heavy metal, pop songs, some of my songs, some Christmas songs, Disney songs - making it one of the best movie marathons we’ve ever had, the unfortunate events of the day far behind us and completely gone from our minds.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @symphony-butterfly  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @baby-iyania  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @pinkhairedsapphic  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap  @maybe-im-dead-idk  @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade  @chaoticgayandnerdy  @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @strawberrycheesecakekenzistuff  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @amysingh2512  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @faepetersen  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr

[xeo-kunsatan]

Dissatisfied One shot +14 (Part 2)

Warning

This story contains sexual themes, gore, Domestic abuse themes, Suicide, cigarettes use, bad words and prostitution references. If you are sensitive or underage please don't read this story.

8:00 pm

???: Son.. Son!

Bradley: Father?...

It was one of my father's camera larvae.

Betrayus: can you please come?

Bradley: what's wrong Dad?

Betrayus; We need to talk...

Bradley:.. uh?.. okay.

I escaped from round house as i used to do while Quartzy was following me and keeping me safe to go to the labyrinth and then go through a portal to the netherworld.

Now there, My Father was waiting for me, his Expression was different, he seemed worried..

Betrayus: Son we need to talk...

Bradley: What's it Dad?..

Betrayus: I respect your privacy .. but with all respect.. you have nothing to do selling your body like this, You are still so young And this is absolutely not sexual freedom.

Bradley: I know...I can't avoid it..

Betrayus: first Bradley if you needed money or something, you most told me..

Bradley: But i Don't want to bother you...

Betrayus: *pets him* C'mon my shiny Ruby.. it's not a bother for me, i am your father and it's my duty to give you all you need.

Bradley: If i were death.. my life can be better here.

Betrayus: Honestly yes, but Bradley you have a life and all you can do is enyoi and experiment for more things, suffering is not just the only thing is you will have, more wonderful things would be waiting for you.. i am sure it would be.

Bradley: It's strange to hear you saying this.. even when you want to take over Pac world.

Betrayus: Well yes, but i want you to enjoy it before Id destroy it.

Bradley: Sounds reasonable.

Betrayus: Second and very important, what you are doing for your emptiness is wrong.

Bradley: I know.. i just can't avoid it.. I'm just trying to felt filled but not.. i really don't know what exactly i need to feel less pathetic that i already am.

Betrayus: Selling your body with people who treats you as shit will not fill your emptiness

Bradley: And then.. what the fuck you think i need!?

Betrayus; I don't think so.. Bradley what you need is love and support.. and you know what's another problem.. you already have love and support.. from me, your sister, the netherworld.. and not just the netherworld.. maybe it's incredible but you have it from your cousins, even when they tried to separate you from them and of course from your best friend and your dog, and believe me.. you have enough with it, it's just thing about having time for it.

Bradley: I didn't.. think about it.. I'm sorry Dad

Betrayus: So please Bradley, stop selling your body for Money nor even to make you feel filled, here you have all you need.

Bradley: Okay okay Dad, I will try..but hey a good side is that i have a better way to insult my classmates.

Betrayus: Ok you're a Goddam genius and all me, when i was from your age i used to sleep with others and the next day when they pretended to don't know me i used to make fun of them related with their bodies's features.

Bradley: *chuckles* you can't be serious

Betrayus: Really, It was so funny, even a good way to bother my awful brother.

Bradley: Okey

Betrayus: Remember son if you need something, you can tell and i can give it to you, like new clothing so you can have new clothes and not just your sister's clothing.

Bradley: It's not that bad that i inherited my sister's clothes, they are so cool and warm, she had a really good taste in dressing..

Betrayus: All from me and your mother

Bradley: By the way, where is she this time?

Betrayus: In Pacopolis scaring people with Blinky and Inky, both are having fun, also she took my champagne bottle.

Bradley:*chuckles* oh Man

Betrayus: That's my boy, i love to see you smile, so cheer up son.

Bradley:*sighs and hugs Betrayus* i love you Dad..

Betrayus: and i love you too my son, now go before Stratos founds out that you escaped from home.

Bradley: Alright Dad.

I left the netherworld, Quartzy was waiting for me to then walk together to our way to The round house.

During the way, i found out that Bryan, Lexy's boyfriend was laughing next to a girl while they were cuddling up, i didn't helped to feel mad by it and Quartzy was growling at it too.

Bradley: Hey Smallhead!

Bryan: Huh! Me!?

Erika: Eh?!?

Quartzy: Grrrghh...

Bradley: No.. i was talking with the stone behind you..

Bryan: Alright weirdo...

Erika: Ignore him, sweetie

Bradley: You don't catch the sarcasm, right?

Bryan: Now i see you better, Bradley or i mean..The Play-Bunny, you don't have a Dick to eat or something?

Quartzy: *thinks* "Don't make me bite you"..

Erika:*giggles*

Bradley: Didn't you had a Boyfriend to be loyal?

Erika: Wait what!? You have a Boyfriend?

Bryan: E-Eh!? No i can explain!

Lexy: Explain what!? About you cheated on me!!?

Bryan: Lexy!!? What are you doing here!?

Bradley: How did you found us?

Lexy: Biscocho have lost and me and my father are looking for him...and i heard all..

Erika: Eh!? Bryan you told me that you were straight!

Lexy: You told me that you would never disappoint me!

Bryan: I-I..

Bradley: You disgusted me from the start.. now i know i wasn't wrong..

Bryan: You awful slut! *Starts hitting Bradley*

Lexy: Brad!!

Quartzy: Grhhh!! *Bites Bryan in his leg*

Erika: *attacks Lexy* How dare you to take my man!?

Lexy:*stops her* It was my Boyfriend!

Bradley: *defending himself* I am not guilty about that you cheated on my friend!

Bryan: And you judge me? You are the one who is sleeping with all the boys in maze high

Bradley: At least i don't have a partner to be unloyal..

Bryan: Shut up!! *Throws Bradley against the wall, breaking one of Brad's Badges*

Quartzy: Ok.. so you choose to play dirty..

Bryan: What the-

Bradley's right fist temperature was getting higher without him noticing, he hitted Bryan's face burning his face in the process.

Bryan: AAAAAAAAARGH

Bradley: Holy shit.. your face..

Quartzy: :0..

Lexy: Qué?..

Erika: You monster!! I'm leaving!! I will call the police right now!.

Bryan: Aargh!! Please!! And call the ambulance!! My fucking face!

Mitzy: Oh no you don't..*pushes Erika to the road just in time when a car was passing by to then crash her* you're safe now.

Bryan; Erika!!

Lexy: a la puta madre [Holy Shit] A Talking doll!!?

Mitzy: Hehehe

Bradley: Mitzy what the fuck!!?

Quartzy: *thinks* what a chaos

Blinky: We saved you butt your majesty~

Inky: a "Thank you" would be nice.

Bryan: Ghosts!!! Ugh! It's not over yet!! *Leaves*

Bradley: Guys thank you so much, but Mitzy what the heck!?

Mitzy: Don't worry she would be fine~

Quartzy:*sniffs Erika's corpse* ...

Inky: Be careful your majesty, the cups would pass by

Lexy: Ok Bradley.. thank you for defending me and giving that jerk a lesson but.. *takes Bradley's Hand* Run!!

Bradley: I'll go!..

Quartzy: *follows them*

Lexy, Bradley and Quartzy quickly ran away to meet up with Martín.

Martin: Lexy, you came, i finally found Bizco-.. Bradley? What are you doing here?

Bradley:*panting* long... Story

Quartzy:*thinks* a really burning story...

Lexy: Bizcocho! *Hugs the big fat cat* Dad.. my boyfriend cheated on me.

Martín: He what!!??

Lexy: But don't worry, Bradley gave him a lesson, he deformed his face with a punch.

Quartzy: *thinks* Honestly he looks better with that new face hehehe

Bradley: My fist was in fire Lexy.. i don't know why..

Martín: I think i know, please give me your right hand.

Bradley: B-but.. what if i hurt you sir..

Martín: Dear, I'm a chef, i play and work with fire.

Bradley: if you say so...*gives Martín his hand, his palm was covered with tiny flames*

Martín: Bradley, You have powers.. and *shows him his badge of his same hand* your uncle and Grandmother have hided that from you for really long time.

Bradley: What!?.. what do you mean?

Martin:*takes off that badge from Bradley's right hand* do you know what is this?

Bradley: Uhh.. the Badge my grandmother wanted to not take it off, don't think i didn't had my suspicions about it.

Martín: I'm glad that you already suspect about it, this is a badge used for powered Pacworlders so they cannot have problems with their powers, mostly related with stress, some of this Badges used to be to force that, Pacworlders to hide their powers *turns on the badge again* this shit is easy to repair..

Bradley: Are you telling me that.. all this time i.... Oh no... Oh no...

Lexy: Bradley?...

Quartzy: *Thinks* Not again.. not this..

Bradley: Now it was sense... I finally know why my Grandmother and uncle treated me like that... Now i understand why did they used to separate me from my cousins... It has sense.. I'm an actual monster.

Quartzy:*cuddles with Bradley*.. Hmm *Thinks* No Bradley.. you are not a monster.. quit telling that.

Bradley:*takes his badge and puts on it* I'm sorry Mr Martín.. Lexy..

Lexy: Bradley.. no..

The Round house Limo have arrived

Stratos: There you are!, You will be punished by escaping from home!..

Bradley: ..sorry...

Lexy: No Bradley! Wait!!

Martín: With all respect Mr president you..

Stratos: Nope!..

Quartzy: Grrrghh!! *Attacks Stratos*

Stratos: Argh!!

One of the bodyguards shoots Quartzy to make her leave alone Stratos.

Bradley: Quartzy NO!!!

Bizcocho escapes scared by the shoot

Stratos and his bodyguards take Bradley to the Limo and drived away without.

Martin: Viejo conche su madre... [Bitch]

Lexy: *sees after Quartzy* Oww no.. Bradley...

Quartzy:*moves*

Lexy: Oh shit is alive!!

Martin: *takes off the dart* it's not an actual bullet.. it's a Dart

Quartzy: *thinks* Ok I'm a little unlucky with shootings.

Martín: what a relief she is alive *holds her* let's take care of her while she recovers.

Lexy: Oki Doki.

9:49 pm

Stratos have seended Bradley to the Round house jail as a punishment.

Stratos: You cross the line young man.. I told you million times to don't go outside in the night, anything you want to say?

Bradley: You killed Quartzy..

Stratos: don't avoid my question..

Bradley: You killed my dog..and you left her behind as a trash..

Stratos: I didn't killed her, my bodyguards actually shoot her with a pacifier Dart.

Bradley:*sighs*...

Stratos: You would be here all the night and the rest of the next day..*leaves*

Bradley:*sighs* If you already consider me as a monster.. i would give you a real monster *Takes off his right badge*...

His hand started burning again but not with more strength.

While that Betrayus have watched everything with full of rage.

Betrayus: My Son have finally discovered his powers and a part of the truth.. Dear brother you will pay for this.

[fizzyxcustard]

Something Borrowed (1)

Fandom: North and South (modern AU)

Summary: Requested by the wonderful @dabisburntnut Your eldest sister is getting married and you have been invited. However, your family are quite pushy about hooking you up with someone, so you ask your boss (and friend), John Thornton to go with you. 

Pairings: Modern!John Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Silliness, insecurity, drunkenness, very slight anxiety mention, slight overweight!reader mention. 

Word count: 1544

Comments/Notes: My newest tag list is still under construction, so by all means send me an ask or message if you want to be added for all fics, a particular series or fandom. I’m using Lucas North as my modern!John Thornton. Come on, it’s RA anyway. ;) 

Music listened to while writing this piece: ASMR video by FredsVoice ASMR on YouTube.

Masterlist of fan fiction here

It was your lunch break. You plopped down in the seat opposite John, your boss and owner of the factory where you worked as his receptionist. “Can I borrow you for the weekend?” you asked, grinning.

John looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and gave a tired smile.

“You bloody well need it by the looks of it,” you said, seeing the dark circles beneath your friend’s eyes. Had John been sleeping at work again? A couple of times you’d come in at half seven, only to find him asleep in his chair, arms and head on the desk.

“Isn’t your sister getting married?” John asked, stretching back in his seat.

“She is, and my mum is pushing at me to take a guest with me, preferably a man,” you sighed.

“Ahh, a means to an end?” John chuckled wryly.

“No. I didn’t say that,” you replied. “I was thinking of asking you before, but you’ve been so snowed under with all these orders and signing them off, and opening up the new factory, I didn’t think you’d want to go. Or have time to. I’m comfortable with you, John. I don’t feel that with many people.”

John couldn’t help but smile shyly at you. “Well, I’m glad you feel like that.”

“The wedding is at some large country townhouse. Most of what my sister tells me just goes in one ear and out the other, so I don’t really know. All I know is that I’m getting a lift up with my auntie and uncle. We don’t want to take too many cars, so we’re all piling in as few as we can.”

John leaned forward in his chair and watched you, your arms moving this way and that as you explained everything to him. He loved watching you gesticulate; you were so passionate and every word you spoke always sounded so heartfelt. You did nothing by half measure. So if he had been invited to such a close family member’s wedding, then you must have really thought a lot of him.

When you left the office, John sighed to himself and leaned back in his chair, looking out the window behind him. His heart was finally beginning to settle back down to its normal rhythm. You always had this effect on him, but he enjoyed every second of it. The only thing he didn’t enjoy was pondering constantly if you actually felt something for him as he did you. Each lunch break you shared with him; you text each other regularly out of work and, a few times, John had even given you a lift to and from work when your car was being repaired.

***

For the next three days, you began searching for your dress. Of course, like you normally did, you left things to the last minute if they were things you didn’t want to do. Seeing your sister get married was not something that particularly bothered you; she had always seemed to dislike you, constantly taking the opposite stance to you in debates, and she made it clear that her life was more complete because she now had a man she was about to marry and had three children from a previous relationship. Her husband to be wasn’t much better either. Most of the time he ignored you, only passing pleasantries because he felt obliged. The saving grace in all of this was John. He would be your comfort and your familiarity. None of your family made sense to you. Your parents were middle-aged, fairly well off, and found more interest in their twice yearly holidays in Spain and Italy. Your two sisters had their own lives to lead now, and you rarely saw them.

It hadn’t come as a surprise that your sister hadn’t chosen you to be a bridesmaid or her maid of honour. Those titles went to your sister’s best friends, more people who looked down on you like you were a piece of excrement they had just trod in.

By the time you chose your dress, it was almost closing time, two days before the big day. You had settled on a lilac strap dress. It was quite modest, simple and wouldn’t (hopefully) bring too much attention to your thicker curves.

***

On the morning of your travel to the wedding venue, you got up and began your normal routine of shower, breakfast and podcasts on your phone. John would be arriving at ten and then your aunt and uncle at eleven to pick you both up. Your uncle was nearing eighty now so you had asked John if he would possibly take over driving half way as the town house was about a two-hour drive away in the middle of nowhere.

Your small suitcase was ready for the two-night stay away. The voice of a kind man spoke into your ears as he discussed ways of combating anxiety and making the most of your life. Listening to podcasts in a morning and journaling always encouraged you to meet the day with a brave face, and today you would desperately need that brave face. The thought of all your judgemental family in one place didn’t particularly please you. If only the earth could open up and you could disappear somewhere for a couple of days.

John arrived at ten promptly. You let him in and closed your eyes, basking in his wonderful aroma as he wafted past you. “Do you want any breakfast?” you asked.

“I already ate before I came out,” he replied. John placed his weekender bag down in the hallway next to your wheelie suitcase.

***

The drive to the venue was quite uneventful. Your uncle Mike drove slowly and you couldn’t help but keep looking across at John from your seat, ready to laugh at the speed. In the middle of you was your five-year-old niece, Lily. She kept looking up at John, grinning.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Lily asked you.

“No, he’s my friend,” you replied, blushing hard.

“Come on now, dear. You’d make a lovely couple,” your aunt Janet chuckled.

John folded his arms and looked out of the car window. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; his long legs made him look incredibly uncomfortable, as though he had been folded over many times to fit in the car.

“You should be looking for a nice husband, you know?” uncle Mike said, looking at you through the review mirror. “Mr. Thornton here seems like a good match.”

“Can we just change topic, please?” you insisted. “I think you’re embarrassing him.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it,” aunt Janet replied, sounding sad for upsetting you both.

Once you had arrived at the large house, the grounds covered in acres of trees, plantations and fountains, you all grabbed your belongings from the car and began a steady walk to the hotel which was situated just behind.

Lily held your hand, and for the first time you wondered why she had been forced to come with you. Why hadn’t she gone with your mum and dad? Not that you minded your niece coming along, but it seemed quite harsh breaking her up from her siblings. At least she was with family.

“Auntie (y/n)?” Lily asked politely.

“Yes, sweets?”

She beckoned you down with her small hand so she could whisper in your ear. Her high pitched, melodic voice became low in your ear. “Can you ask Mr. Thornton to dance with me?”

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” you replied, looking over at John.

“Pardon?” John asked, still looking a little uncomfortable and out of place.

“Lily was asking if you’d dance with her at the reception.”

John bent down to the little blonde haired girl and smiled. “You’ll be first on my list,” he said.

The sight of John interacting with your niece made you feel something warm in your chest and it spread outward through you.

“Come on, darlings,” aunt Janet called.

The hotel behind the main venue was a lot more modern, having television screens in the reception and plenty of coffee machines. “Hello,” a well set, dark-haired man said, offering you all a smile. He was dressed in a black suit and you noticed the name Peter on his name badge. “You must be part of the group for the wedding planned for this weekend?”

“We are,” aunt Janet said.

You still kept hold of Lily’s hand and watched John avert his gaze towards the door, as though he wanted to disappear and never be seen again.

“You’ve all been booked into rooms. Can I take all of your names, please?” Peter asked.

Of course you knew that Lily would have to check in properly with her mum and dad, who were strangely absent. Considering that your uncle drove so slow, you seemed to be the first group who had arrived.

Peter then turned to you and John. “I see we just have a ‘plus one’ for you, Sir,” he told John. “But can we take a name.”

“John Thornton.”

“That has all been checked for you. A king-size room is now available for you both.”

You blanched. “Is that one bed or two?” you asked.

“It’s one large bed.”

Oh, shit!

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[klove0511]

The Only Way Out

Author: @klove0511​ Artist: @dwimpala-67​

Genre: Angst Pairing: Gen Rating: G Wordcount: 8108 Warnings: Major Character Death,  hurt!Sam, hurt!Dean, ghost!Sam, canon divergent after season 1 Summary: What if Sam had been the one left in a coma after the car accident?

Fic link: AO3

Art link: Tumblr

The world felt heavy, wrapped in wool and weighted to hold him down. Dean came to slowly, aware first of the sluggish response of his limbs, then more distantly aware of pain when he moved them. A steady, irritating beep told him he was in a hospital just as surely as the sterile smell of cleaning products or too white light over his bed. He struggled through the fog of opioids to remember what he'd done to land him here. What had they been hunting? Why was he alone? 

A glance at the window told him it was early morning, with the sky beginning to lighten and clear enough to promise warmth later. Still, the room was medical-building-chilly, and Dean was grateful for the blankets keeping him warm.

He felt his thoughts drifting, trying to piece together what had happened. Dean always hated when they put him on the really heavy pain meds because it became a struggle just to think. He didn't know where Sam was, but the fact that he was absent was concerning enough to cut through some of the haze. Dean remembered the last time he'd woken up in a hospital, after the rawhead incident, and Sam had been there nonstop, except when he couldn't be. The cops had pulled him out of the room for questions, the doctors had shooed him away to let them poke and prod Dean in peace, and one nurse in particular had enforced the hospital's visiting hours to make sure Sam went back to the motel long enough to get some sleep. But all of that had been after Dean woke up. Sam should be here, now. So where was he?

Unfortunately, the fog of the drugs was already pulling him back down into sleep, no matter how he fought to stay awake. A burst of cold from the air conditioning made him shiver, and as he drifted off he swore he could hear Sam saying he’d stay until Dean woke up, though he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

 When Dean woke again, the sun shone brightly through his window, warming the room almost to an uncomfortable level. A nurse was taking his vitals, and he was pretty sure she said something about going to get a doctor. Maybe. Waking up in a hospital was worse than a killer hangover.

He grayed out for a minute, but when he was able to refocus, he was already feeling clearer than the last time he’d been conscious. The nurse was back with a dude in a lab coat, who Dean assumed was a doctor.

Dean didn’t bother waiting for the doctor to ask him anything. “Where’s Sam?”

The doctor didn’t answer the question right away, which annoyed Dean. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He’d meant it to be sarcastic, but judging by the reactions he got from both the doctor and the nurse, that was pretty close to what had landed him in the hospital. That knowledge did nothing to lessen the anxiety he was feeling over Sam’s continued absence. Already feeling sleep pulling him down again, he tried once more, wishing he didn’t sound so much like he was begging. “Please, where’s my brother?”

This time, the doctor took pity on him. “Your father is visiting him now.”

 John listened to Sam’s doctor explaining the extent of his injuries with only half his mind. Sam was lying in the hospital bed, broken beyond repair, and that was all he needed to know. He was going to lose his son, but the demon's plans for Sam were over. He was ashamed to admit there was a sliver of relief in the chaotic emotions running through him. At least now Sam would be safe, and John’s worst fears could be laid to rest.

But beyond the fleeting relief and acceptance, there were the beginnings of grief. More than anything, he wanted a drink or four, but he couldn't do that yet. Later, he would drink himself into oblivion, but first he had to tell Dean. He grimaced. Dean was going to be devastated and telling him was going to be painful. At least John was being granted a reprieve from that duty for now, as Dean still hadn’t woken.

In the meantime, he had business to attend to, and while he hated himself for feeling this way, he was grateful for the distraction. He took one more look at Sam’s still form and murmured, “I’m sorry, son.” Then he pulled out his phone and pulled up Bobby’s number as he exited the hospital.

 At the junkyard an hour later, John sifted through the wreckage, looking for the Colt. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, but he was doing his best to ignore his friend.

“What are you doing out here, John?” Bobby asked, his voice less accusing than it could have been.

John didn’t answer immediately, but he stopped what he was doing, too. “I’m looking for the gun that’ll kill the thing that killed Mary and put my boys in the hospital.” He wondered, briefly, if his voice sounded as dead as he felt inside.

Bobby scoffed at his answer. “Hell, I could have done emptied the car. Those boys need you to be there for them right now.”

John swallowed down irritation at Bobby presuming to know what his sons needed. He was a good friend, but this was an old argument between them. Bobby had always tried to step in and be the father he thought John failed to be. “Didn’t want to put you out like that. Besides, they aren’t awake yet. No reason I couldn’t do this myself.”

Bobby paused before answering, and John wondered if there was going to be more commentary on his parenting forthcoming. Luckily it seemed there wasn’t going to be when Bobby said, “What do you want to do with the car, then? Don’t seem worth a tow.”

John extricated himself from the wreckage, having found the gun he was looking for. Taking a step back, he surveyed the twisted remains of the Impala. “It’s Dean’s now. I say tow it to your place until he’s ready to work on it. And if he doesn’t want to fix her up, then scrap her.”

Ignoring Bobby’s silent sympathy, John walked away from one of the last remnants of his life with Mary and toward the rental car that would take him back to the hospital and Dean.

 By the time John arrived, Dean had declined most of his dinner—opioids made him nauseous—and talked himself down from two panic attacks about Sam. He'd gotten the nurse to confirm that they had, in fact, been hit by a truck, and now that Dean thought about it, he was pretty sure he remembered the sound of breaking glass. Once he started to access the memory, he could remember bits and pieces from before the accident—his dad possessed by the demon, Sam shooting their dad in the leg, feeling woozy from blood loss. Piecing together his memory was the only thing that kept him distracted from thinking about Sam, until his dad appeared in the doorway.

His dad looked haggard, weary in a way Dean hadn't seen before. He was on crutches and sported some impressive bruising, but seemed uninjured otherwise. 

"Good to see you awake, son," he said.

"You too, sir." Dean swallowed nervously. "How's Sam?"

His dad's face morphed through half a dozen emotions before settling into careful neutrality, and the bottom dropped out of Dean’s stomach. "Sam is in a coma. It’s bad.” 

Dean breathed slowly, deeply, fighting the panic that had been hounding him all day. "He's dying." When John didn't answer immediately, Dean spat, "Isn't he?"

John’s face was a damn mask, revealing nothing, and his even tone was no better. "We don't know. The doctors say they've done all they can, and it's up to Sam now."

Dean nodded, then rasped, "So what are we going to do?"

John was silent for a long time. Too long, in Dean's opinion. "We aren't going to do anything, Dean."

“What?”

John’s face darkened. His dad didn��t like being questioned, but Dean didn’t understand. He knew that finding a legitimate healer was a long shot, but Sam had done it. He’d even done it alone; Dean hadn’t been in any position to help, and John sure as hell hadn’t been around. The two of them together, maybe with Bobby’s network to help, had much better odds of finding a hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on his brother.

 John had left angry, but Dean was furious. His dad wanted to “let nature take its course,” which was a load of bullshit. They had access to resources the doctors didn’t, things that could save his brother. They might normally hunt most of those resources in the name of the greater good, but this was different. This was Sam.

Dean sat in a wheelchair by Sam’s bed, trying not to stare at the bandages around his brother’s head. He shivered, remembering the doctor listing off Sam’s injuries.

"Sam suffered a severe blow to the head during the accident. He also sustained several broken ribs and crush injuries from the steering column. We repaired the broken ribs with pins, and we placed a chest tube to reinflate his right lung, which had been punctured by one of his ribs. We were also very concerned about the degree of brain swelling, and during surgery we removed a portion of Sam's skull to help alleviate the pressure."

Dean stared at the tubes practically covering every inch of his brother and tried to imagine part of his skull missing underneath the white bandages swaddling his head. Sam was going to be pissed when he woke up. They'd shaved his head to do the surgery. "How's he doing now?"

The doctor shook his head. "He has remained unresponsive, which is not an encouraging sign, but he's stable at the moment. That said, he is a fighter. Most patients would not have survived even this long with his degree of injury. "

Of course he was a fighter. He was a Winchester.

The doc had been sympathetic, but all Dean could focus on was the idea that Sam was a real life Humpty Dumpty, and try as they might, the doctors couldn’t put him back together again. He needed more than they could offer, and that wasn’t considering the possibility of long-term complications from his injuries. He needed a miracle. But it was perfectly, explicitly clear that John wasn’t going to help and didn’t condone Dean wanting to intervene. He didn't know how he was going to do this behind his dad's back, but he would. He'd find something.

Maybe, if he managed to find something innocuous enough, his dad would come around and help. His gut clenched, and he knew he didn't really believe it, but he could hope. He wasn't going to lose his brother again. 

He believed that about as much as he believed the flickering lights in Sam’s room were due to bad wiring.

 As soon as Dean was released from the hospital, he went to Bobby's place. The Impala was there with all of their stuff.

All of Sam's stuff.

Dean sighed, surveying the car. It was a mess, the frame twisted beyond recognition.  The driver’s side was crushed, and the door had been cut away to give the rescue team better access to Sam. There was dark staining on the seat that he knew had to be Sam’s blood. He looked away, throat tight.

He’d fix the car eventually, but the reason he’d come had been to grab his stuff and pull out anything he thought might be helpful in getting Sam back on his feet. His laptop was toast, and the Colt was gone. According to Bobby, John had come by yesterday and retrieved some gear, then taken off again. They both assumed he was back to chasing the Yellow Eyed Demon. Nothing like revenge for a son he hadn't even officially lost yet.

Heading inside, he grabbed a couple beers from Bobby's fridge. He found the hunter in his study, flipping through one of his dozens of books on the supernatural. "Thanks for bringing Baby here," he said, dropping into a chair. Dust motes swirled in the late afternoon sunbeams coming through the dirty windows, drawing Dean’s attention back out to the yard where his mangled childhood home sat.

Bobby looked up, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "What are you planning, idjit?"

Dean grimaced, wishing the older hunter couldn’t read him so well. "I can't leave Sam like this, you know that." He took a long pull from his beer and swallowed nervously. "I was hoping one of your contacts might know something."

" 'Bout the demon?" Bobby said cautiously.

Dean shook his head. "About a healer. Or a white witch or hoodoo priest or something. Anything that might help."

Bobby ran his hand down his face, stubble rasping as he rubbed his chin. "You know that's a long shot at best."

Dean studied the condensation gathering on the bottle as he picked at the label. "I know. But I gotta do something. He's my brother." He looked away, unwilling to watch Bobby pity him as he said, “Dad won’t help.”

Bobby watched him for a moment, then apparently saw whatever it was he was looking for because he replied, "We'll figure it out. How long you staying before you head back?"

Dean shrugged noncommittally. "Not long. He's stable, for now, but the doctors—" 

When he didn't finish his sentence, Bobby grumbled and said, "Yeah, I know. Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. And before you say it, I know. You're not leaving him in that hospital by himself. I'm just saying my house is open, all right?"

Dean slumped back in the chair, some of the tension gone from his shoulders. "I talked to the doctor today about getting him transferred to Sioux Falls. They didn't love the idea, but they agreed to it when I said he'd be closer to family. Might be able to happen in a couple days, if—"

Bobby cut him off. "Then give me a call when you're on your way back, and I'll clear out the guest room. Don't think it's been used since the last time you boys stayed with me. And, in the meantime, I'll ask around about healers. Let you know if I hear something."

Dean's nod was small and tight; relief wasn't going to come until he had a lead to follow, but it was still nice to know that Bobby was in their corner. 

 Dean stood in the doorway to Sam's new room. He was still on a ventilator, though most of the bandages had been removed that morning. Sam was pale, gray tinged, and a far cry from the California-tan he'd been just a few months ago. In the week he'd been hospitalized, Dean could tell he was already losing muscle mass. If Dean managed to pull this off, then Sam was still going to have a long road ahead of him before he was back to normal. But at least he'd be alive, Dean reasoned. 

He was greeted by a cool breeze when he crossed the threshold and finally entered the room, like every other time he'd come to visit. It didn't matter how many times he asked the staff at the old hospital, the temperature in his room was perpetually freezing. The idea of the problem following Sam across state lines made his stomach turn. 

The plastic chair creaked when he settled in, and he tried to ignore how Sam's shaved head made him look like an alien. The problem was that, like a train wreck, he couldn't look away. Finally, he sighed and said aloud, "Damn, Sammy. I cannot believe you were right about that hair all this time." He shivered, and he would have sworn the temperature dropped another couple degrees, but he kept talking. "I know I gave you a lot of crap about it over the years. But you were absolutely right. You look better with long hair. And I don't mean that just because you're a giant girl." He paused, waiting. When nothing happened, he mentally kicked himself. Of course nothing happened. Sam wasn't dead. He wasn't a ghost; he was a dude in a coma. 

"Anyway," he continued, "I found a spell that’ll work, but, uh, I don't think you're gonna like it." The lights and monitors picked that moment to flicker, and an alarm sounded that brought the nursing staff running. 

Dean stood out of the way, watching tensely as they did their job checking Sam, his equipment, and the monitors. It wasn't the first time it had happened during a visit, but it never stopped being nerve wracking. What if something important shorted out this time? It was one of the reasons he had worked so hard on getting Sam transferred up to Sioux Falls General. Now it was happening here too. The twist in his gut kept telling him it wasn't faulty equipment that produced the shorts, but he refused to believe it. Sam wasn't dead, damn it. 

It's better this way.

When the room had cleared out again, Dean resumed his position in the chair by the bed. "Like hell this is better," he muttered to himself. He sighed and scrubbed his face. "Like I was saying, I found something in one of the books I grabbed from Bobby’s before you got transferred. It's a spell, for binding a reaper." 

The temperature in the room plummeted until Dean’s breath was ghosting in front of his face. No.

"I know," he said, his voice gruff and quiet. "I don't like it either. But I have to do something. We know this works. And, yeah, we know the cost, so I'll figure it out. I— Whatever I might be willing to do, I know you would never forgive me if I saved you at someone else's expense. I'll figure it out, ok? Maybe it can target a monster, or something, yeah? Something we'd be killing anyway?" 

Nothing from the peanut gallery. 

"Fine, be a bitch about it. I won't do the spell." He ground his teeth together, hating that he was giving in to, what? A broken air conditioner? "Not unless I'm out of options. Ok, Sam?"

The lights flickered, but none of the other equipment was affected this time, thankfully. Dean took it as agreement, and he left to hit the books again.

 The next day, he got a call from one of Bobby's contacts about a faith healer that was supposed to be the real deal.

He looked into the healer John Rogers, checked for suspicious deaths, unusual money transfers, anything that might indicate he was a fraud or of the same ilk as the pastor's wife Sue Ann from that case in Nebraska. The financials came back squeaky clean, but Dean's gut told him there was something he was missing. He was only an hour away, though, so against his better judgment he stopped in for one of the guy's services. 

The tent was crowded, like he remembered from the last time. It was a different preacher, but the same crowd, the same stale air with just a hint of desperation. It was too hot with the press of bodies and lack of air conditioning, and Dean wished he'd skipped the flannel overshirt. The murmur of the crowd made it near impossible to listen in on any conversations, but they seemed excited, optimistic. Well, he supposed any hope was better than none. Not like he could relate. 

However, where the pastor in Nebraska had been earnest, this guy felt like a used car salesman. From his first words, Dean felt slimy just being in the same room as the guy, even though he hadn't said anything more troubling than 'welcome, new and old patrons alike.'

Dean leaned forward in his seat, trying to relax but appear attentive. His attention wasn't entirely focused on the sermon, though.  He watched the guy, sure, but he also watched the crowd. Dozens of people were in the tent, some with obvious ailments and some without. He focused on maladies easy to fake—people in wheelchairs or wearing sunglasses and hugging a stick—and then watched to see if any of them triggered his Spidey senses. Years of practice conning people had made both him and Sam experts on spotting it in others. He couldn't be sure, of course, but he spied three or four people in the crowd that seemed likely to be plants. 

Sure enough, after the dude got done wailing and mumbling as he "spoke in tongues" as the "Spirit moved through him" he called for people that needed healing. Half the crowd erupted into noise, but the first person he selected was one of the ones Dean had spotted—the blind woman. The whole scene played out exactly like he expected, and he made to leave.

"Why are you leaving?" he heard the pastor call out over the din.

Dean paused, unsure if he even wanted to bother engaging the guy. 

The pastor made the decision for him by continuing to talk. "I'm sorry for your loss. But I can't help your brother."

Dean whirled, eyes flashing and hand automatically moving to his gun.

The preacher smirked, and for a second, Dean wondered if the guy was just that good at reading body language. He'd seen Sam pull a similar trick two or three times. 

"If you can't help him, then why does it matter if I leave?" he finally said, slowly easing his defensive stance.

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Rogers said nothing more as Dean made his exit.

 Armed with new knowledge, Dean would have to resume his research. First thing was to learn more about the woman who had been "healed." His instincts screamed bullshit, but he couldn't afford to be wrong. He found a good spot to wait, and when the service was over he followed the woman. He had to give her credit, she kept up the charade even after she exited the tent. Every few moments she'd stop and look around, an expression of awe on her face. He almost believed it. 

He slipped back into the crowd, keeping a casual distance from the woman as she moved through the parking lot. They wove through the cars, and he realized that she was alone. No one was walking with her, chatting about her newfound sight. Leading her to their car. Damn, he'd been right. It was confirmed when she dug through her purse and pulled out keys that she used to unlock a shitty looking Volvo. Dean just managed to catch the license plate number before she drove out of sight.

Back at his motel, Dean ran the plates, found the woman, and dug deep into her financials. The trail was hard to find, but, now that he knew it was there, he did manage to find it: small, irregular cash payments deposited into her bank account starting six months ago. Never more than $100 at a time, and never more than twice a month. He didn’t think it was enough money to justify lying to so many people, but it wasn't really up to him to judge in this case. For good measure, he also uncovered as much medical history as he could on the lady and was utterly unsurprised to find zero references to blindness in her files. However, he didn't uncover an explicit link between her and the preacher. He was sure he would if he kept looking, but that wasn't important anymore. The guy was a fraud healer, but he still knew something. Dean needed to find out if that something was information that could help Sam.

 The heat of the day was just starting to fade when Dean knocked on the preacher's door. He lived in a nice neighborhood by most people's standards. Dean thought it was mind-numbingly dull, but hey, maybe it was better than it looked. The man didn't even look at Dean when he opened the door, just gestured him into the house. 

"You're psychic," Dean said as he settled himself into an overstuffed chair that was more comfortable than it looked. 

"I am." He sat down on the couch across from Dean.

"And a fraud. Is your name even John Rogers?"

Rogers smirked. "You know the answer to that." He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "I wasn't lying before. I can't help your brother."

"But you do know something," Dean accused.

The preacher sighed. "I know what's in your head right now—he's  in a coma, dying a slow death. You came here on the slim chance that I was the real deal. Sorry that didn't work out for you."

Strangely enough, Dean believed the guy actually was sorry, but he didn't buy that Rogers didn't know anything else. Sam was the one who could sweet talk witnesses into giving up info, though, so Dean went with his tried and true method when working alone: stony silence with a hint of aggression.

Rogers rolled his eyes. "Fine. I may have heard of something. I didn't look into it—no need for myself—so it may be another wild goose chase." He stood, moving to pour himself a drink from the sidebar. He didn't offer Dean one.

Dean waited as patiently as he could. This guy could be jerking him around for all he knew, but he didn’t think so, and his instincts hadn't been wrong yet. 

With an excessive number of dramatic pauses, he finally told Dean about a spell. It was supposed to be ancient and powerful. Could practically bring people back from the dead. He didn't have much more than that, but he told Dean to look in an old grimoire called The Magus. Dean hadn't heard of it before, but he was sure it would be a bitch to find.

 John considered letting his phone go to voicemail until he saw that it was Bobby calling. There were a very limited number of reasons why that self-righteous dick might be calling him, and he knew better than to think Bobby would leave that sort of news in a voicemail. He took a deep breath, burying his grief as far as he could before he flipped open the phone. “Winchester.”

Bobby’s gruff voice didn’t sound devastated, just annoyed, and John breathed a little easier. It wasn’t Sam then. “You need to get your ass back here, John. Dean needs you.”

“Dean doesn’t want me there.” It hurt to admit that, but he couldn’t blame his son. When the demon had possessed him, he’d seen its plans for Sam, and it had been a confirmation of everything he’d learned over the last twenty years. He hadn’t told Dean what he knew, and if John had his way then Dean would never know.

Bobby grumbled, “His brother’s dying. Of course he wants you here. Now, I don’t know what damn fool thing you said, and I don’t care. He’s going after The Magus, John. Says there’s some spell in it should be able to heal Sam.”

John felt his jaw clench so hard he thought he might have cracked a tooth. “He’s going to get himself killed trying to do a spell like that.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m calling you? Boy’s aiming to commit suicide by magic, if he can find the book. If we find it first, then maybe I can convince him to let me do the spell, but we both know that’s a long shot too.” Bobby sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we might find a medieval grimoire, do you?”

John closed his eyes. “No, but I’ll work it out. I’ll call when I’ve got something. Watch out for Dean.” He didn’t wait to hear Bobby’s reply before he hung up. The man was probably just going to chew him out for not agreeing to head to Sioux Falls immediately.

He looked out the window and saw storm clouds blowing in off Lake Michigan. Dean hadn’t backed off like he should’ve, and now John was going to have to act. He couldn’t let the demon’s plans come to fruition, and he wasn’t going to let Sam suffer because of their selfishness. It was the least he could do. The room blurred as the first drops of rain fell, and John started to work out what could be done to stop Dean.

 It had been two weeks of spinning their wheels looking for the grimoire, and they were no closer to the book than they had been originally. Dean flipped through one of Bobby’s books, frowning at the page. This one seemed familiar. A glance at the spine revealed why. He’d read it already. Twice. Sighing in frustration he tossed the book onto the “dud” stack and slumped in his seat, hands tugging at his hair.

They couldn’t afford to take much longer. Sam was deteriorating. The doctor had told him that just this morning; she’d said that the machines could probably keep him going indefinitely, but everything that made him Sam would be gone. It wasn’t a reality Dean was ready to face, and he’d stalked out of the hospital, not even staying for his usual bitchfest at the broken AC in Sam’s room. Just remembering it made anger—fear—coil tightly in the pit of his stomach, and he stood, sweeping the desk clear of the stacks of useless backs, a wordless scream escaping his throat.

Bobby walked in, holding two beers, and he surveyed the mess. Quirking an eyebrow at Dean, he said, “Take a break.”

Dean just stared back incredulously. “I don’t have time to take a break. Sam—”

“Is dying.” Bobby’s tone wasn’t harsh, but Dean flinched anyway. “I know. But you’re no good to him like this. We been through these books twice each, and we’ve got squat. So, go outside, take a break. Work on that car of yours for a bit and burn off some of that anger. Maybe something’ll come to you. I seem to remember cracking a case or two that way. Keep my hands busy enough to turn off my brain, but the problem still gets worked in the background.” He handed over one of the beers as Dean sulked past him to go outside.

He didn’t go to the Impala. Though he’d worked on her off and on for weeks now, it was always a painful reminder of what was happening to Sam. Today he wasn’t sure he could stand to see the wreck without falling apart, and he wasn’t allowed to fall apart until Sam was better. That had always been his rule when Sam was hurt or sick, and he clung to it now like a lifeline. Turning toward the back of the property instead, he started walking, already feeling better despite himself.

He had just reached the edge of the junkyard when his phone rang.

Dean stared at the caller ID in disbelief for a moment before answering. His dad was calling him, after weeks of radio silence. After abandoning Sam to die. He felt his rage reignite, but he kept his tone neutral as he answered. "Dad."

"Dean. I told you to leave it alone."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it, Bobby. "This is Sam, Dad. Not some random civilian. How can you just let him die like he means nothing? Where the hell are you?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Dean listened to his dad's sigh and rolled his eyes. The man could be a worse drama queen than Sam sometimes.

"Really? That's the answer you're going with?" Dean shook his head in disgust. "Guess Sam was right after all. You really don't give two shits about this family. It's all about your damn revenge."

"That's not fair, Dean." His tone was biting, cold. "Sam chose not to end this fight when he had the chance, and now I have to before the demon hurts anyone else."

Dean scoffed. He could hardly believe they were related. “Is that what this is about? Punishing me for telling Sam not to kill you? Or punishing him for listening?”

There was silence over the line for a long minute before John said, “That’s not why I left, Dean.” More silence. "I might have a lead on the grimoire you need. See you at Bobby's in two days." The phone beeped as John hung up without saying goodbye.

When he collapsed, sobbing, against a rusted-out Honda a minute later, he wasn’t even sure if they were tears of joy or grief.

 The lights flickered.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean said, settling into the seat by his brother. "Think I might have something promising, and Dad's helping."

Nothing. He glanced around the room. 

"Come on, man, don't be a bitch about it. I know you can hear me."

A cool breeze ruffled his hair.

"Because your lights flicker a thousand times whenever I talk to you. Which, by the way, cut it out. One of these days you're going to short out something important and croak. Also, because it's July and ten degrees colder in your room than the morgue. I feel bad for your nurses."

A gentle thump on his shoulder. Son of a bitch. Sam wasn't supposed to be able to touch him. Dean watched his brother's body on the bed and thought about just how much stronger he'd become over the last few weeks. It was a bad sign. He hadn't told Bobby or his dad about the fact that Sam was apparently haunting his hospital room. He already knew what they would say.

What's dead should stay dead.

"You aren't dead yet. And I'm not giving up on you." He stood and stormed out of the room before Sam could get another word in.

 John got out of his truck, but didn’t approach the house. Dean and Bobby were waiting for him on the porch, and Bobby had brought his shotgun out. It was easy to read the tension in Dean's shoulders, the anger simmering just under the surface. Christ, Dean had no idea how bad it was going to get, and he was already this mad. John was going to lose both of his sons today. 

The spell he’d faked was in his pocket, and he hated himself for what he was doing. But he was careful not to let his face betray him. Years of hustling poker successfully had taught him that his poker face was the best, and he relied on that skill now. Dean wasn't going to stop, that was clear now, so John had to be the one to make the hard choice.

For one dizzy, terrifying moment, he considered backing out and trying to help them find the grimoire. Then he thought of the demon, still out there and still planning. A demon that wanted to start the Apocalypse and use his son to lead an army of darkness. He didn't know how the demon intended to make Sam cooperate, but it didn't matter. He trusted that the demon would succeed eventually, probably by threatening Dean. There was only one sure way to save Sam from that fate, and this was it. His resolve hardened, and he resigned himself to Dean hating him forever. Knowing Sam was safe would be worth it. Maybe someday Dean would understand, even if John knew Dean would never be able to forgive him for this. 

"Dean," he said, voice gruff. He nodded at Bobby, but kept his eyes on his son. 

"Where have you been?" Dean demanded, his voice hard. He sounded grown up. Good. 

John put an easy smile on his face, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the air, but it didn't reach his eyes. He knew Dean saw that, too, so he let it drop after a moment. "I was following some leads."

"You were hunting the demon. While Sam is laying in a hospital, dying."

"We've had this argument already."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "So? He's still dying, you're still hunting, and I'm still here, trying to put my family back together! At least tell me what this mysterious lead is."

John steeled himself, and reached into his back pocket. "It's not the whole grimoire, but I was told this came from The Magus. Sounds like something you might be interested in."

Dean eyed him warily, and John couldn't blame him. He'd flipped on this issue fast, and that had to have raised some alarm bells for Dean. It was no surprise Dean didn't trust him. Still, the boy was desperate. He accepted the fragile parchment, unfolding it and scanning the text. Dean couldn't read it, unless he had been studying archaic Greek lately, but John knew Dean would be able to piece together a basic idea of the spell just from the components. It was something he'd drilled them on, to help protect them from witches. 

Dean nodded to Bobby, and down went the shotgun barrel. John breathed a little easier at that. He never doubted that Bobby was willing to shoot him, especially after how they’d parted a few years back. With what he was about to pull, he probably deserved it, too.

"Come in, then, if you're staying," Bobby said, turning and walking back inside.

Dean raised his eyebrows in question, then joined Bobby. 

John lingered by his truck a moment more before following, grief already pooling in his chest.

 Bobby translated the spell while Dean sorted through their inventory of ingredients. More than once the old hunter added a location to the ingredient he read aloud, and Dean would make a run to the kitchen or the basement or the second guest bedroom, in the bottom box next to the dresser, wherever the item happened to be stashed in this old, cluttered house. John had grabbed a beer and puttered around for a few minutes, obviously uncomfortable, before saying he was going to the hospital and would meet them there. 

It felt like a miracle that they already had all the ingredients, and Dean said so after he retrieved the salamander tail and Bobby declared it the last ingredient. It was a surprisingly benign looking assortment of items, and it didn't seem possible to Dean that they could heal his brother. He believed in magic, obviously, but he always associated it with blood and entrails. It seemed, well, magical that a few bits and pieces in the right ratios could do something so powerful. It was weirder that his dad had brought him the spell. He'd been so adamant about letting nature take its course, and Dean wondered what had brought him around. A thought crossed his mind, and his skin crawled. He idly touched the top of one of the jars and said tentatively, "Does this seem too easy to you?"

Bobby looked up from the spell in front of him, eyes narrowed at Dean. "What are you thinking?"

Dean gave one quick shake of his head as he frowned, saying, "Nothing. Just." He shrugged a shoulder and looked out the window. "It's just like Dad to swoop in at the last minute and save the day. But. It's a weird way for him to do it, you know?"

Bobby nodded. "I never expected your daddy to be the one bringing spells here for us to cast, if that's what you mean."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Does it check out?"

Hesitating before he spoke, Bobby hemmed and hawed before saying, "I don't know. I've never seen a spell like this, and I've sure as hell never cast one. I can tell you that it looks like it ought to work, if I understand it right, but there's no way to know for sure without trying it."

"That just fills me with confidence, Bobby."

"Hey, you asked. You have a better option?"

Dean grunted. "You know I don't."

"I know you've got something in reserve, just in case." Bobby leveled him a look that told Dean he wasn't going to be able to hide behind denials.

Dean swallowed hard. "I do, but it's not a better option."

Bobby nodded, slowly, but didn't say anything.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I can make it work without killing someone."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Bobby's eyes were hard. "I know he's your brother, Dean, but—"

"I know. God, Bobby, I know." He scrubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes. "I would though. If it came to it, then I would." 

"But?"

Dean shook his head, not willing to say that he promised his brother's ghost that he wouldn't. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to let Sam go if this spell didn't work, and he wasn't sure he had the time it would take to pull the other spell together. 

 When Dean and Bobby arrived at the hospital, John was sitting in the chair by Sam's bed. Dean frowned, noting the overgrown stubble on Sam's chin. They hadn't been by to shave him yet, which meant it was more likely they were going to get interrupted. At best, that would lead to a number of awkward questions, and at worst it could disrupt the spell. He mentioned it, but John scoffed.

"It'll be fine, Dean. The nurse was just in to check on him, and she said she would be back in an hour. No interruptions until then."

Dean frowned but didn't argue. If John thought they were safe to do the spell then they probably were. 

Bobby was the most experienced of them with spell work, so he did the spell. Dean watched him like a hawk, stomach flipping nervously the whole time. John's face was grim, but he stayed silent, letting Bobby work. The foreign words droned on, and Bobby added a pinch of this, a jar of that, then more chanting. Dean could feel the energy in the room building, and his eyes darted to Sam. The monitors showed no change, of course, but the lights flickered aggressively as the chanting picked up speed. Dean silently begged Sam to cool it, to keep calm until the spell did its thing. 

It's not going to work, Dean.

Dean set his jaw. It had to work. Not working wasn't an option.

Please, let me go.

He glared at his brother. That wasn't an option either, not while Dean was still breathing. He wasn't going to fail Sam. Not when Sam had come through for him last year.

His brother sighed, and he could imagine the epic eye roll that accompanied it. You're going to be so pissed at Dad when this doesn't work.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at his brother again. The air was cooling rapidly, not a great sign for Sam's mental health at the moment. But his dad and Bobby seemed oblivious, and with the way the energy swirled through the air, he knew the spell was almost done.

Bobby threw in the last ingredient, and there was a flash, a bang, and the building energy funneled into the center of the room before quietly dissipating. It was...underwhelming. 

Dean looked at Sam, at the monitors and held his breath, waiting for any sign at all that he was waking up. There was nothing. If anything, Dean thought the vitals readout was worse than before. Sam was breathing too fast, heartbeat too rapid for someone peacefully asleep. 

He turned on the other two in the room. "Why didn't it work? We had all the ingredients, right, Bobby?" 

Bobby looked stricken, but he nodded. "I read it exactly as it was written. You know I wouldn't half-ass this."

Dean clamped down on his anger as best he could. He did know. Sometimes spells just didn't work. Maybe Bobby wasn't powerful enough. Maybe they needed a real witch to cast the spell. 

Then John said, "You knew this was a long shot at best," and Dean gaped at him.

He understood, on some level, that this was John trying to be supportive. His dad had never been an emotional guy, never one to soothe with words. But this felt like he was writing Sam off all over again. Sam was dying, actively now, and John just...didn't care. Dean didn't understand and didn't want to understand. He wanted his dad to be devastated by this.

Where did you get that spell anyway? It sounded like someone cobbled a bunch of random garbage together and called it finished. The tenses didn't even match through most of it.

That's when Dean put it together. 

"You did this, didn't you?" he said, voice frigid and too calm. "You did something to the spell. That's why you didn't bring the book. Not some bullshit about it being too closely guarded in a library or not wanting to set off some crap alarms. You've never had a problem breaking and entering before." Dean shook his head furiously. "I didn't see it before. I didn't want to. But Sam was always right, wasn't he? He never mattered as much to you as the hunt. As getting revenge for Mom. And now you killed him." Dean closed his eyes, unable to even look at John anymore. "Why? Because he didn't take the shot in that cabin?"

When John finally spoke, his voice was brittle. "I know you won't be able to hear this now, Dean, but it was never like that. Someday, I hope you'll understand. This was for the best."

"Get out," Dean said, watching Sam's chest shallowly rise with each breath. He hoped John could hear the threat under the words. 

An hour later, Dean watched as Sam struggled to breathe. There was no more time to pull together that spell. John had been thorough. Bobby had gone home, looking for the binding spell at Dean's desperate request, but it was gone from Dean's research pile. Worse, he'd signed the papers to remove Sam from life support before they'd even done the stupid spell. According to the hospital, that meant Dean could do exactly nothing, despite the fact that John hadn't shown his face in the hospital for weeks and Dean had been visiting Sam daily.  He felt hollow, wondering what life would be like without his brother at his side. He thought it might be like when Sam was at Stanford: hunting alone or with the occasional hunter acquaintance. He resolutely ignored the burning in his eyes, even as Sam's body blurred in front of him. It wasn't going to be like that. Maybe once in a while he would be able to forget, to fool himself into believing Sam was alive and safe and just away, but most of the time he would know. He imagined the passenger seat of the Impala, empty again. His heart clenched. 

Sam was already gone, and he knew that. The body on the bed had been empty since the first time he'd seen the lights in this room flicker. Sam had been haunting him for weeks. They were just waiting for it to be official. 

The monitor screeched, jerking Dean's attention up and away from Sam. His breath caught in his throat; Sam was flat-lining. A doctor that had been lurking outside the door quietly came in and turned off the alarm. She checked Sam's vitals manually, checked the time, and announced that Sam had died at 2:48 pm. It was quiet, efficient. Dean didn't understand how she could do that, just say a person—Sam—was dead, and then continue on with her day like the world hadn't ended. 

 Dean refused Bobby's offer to help build the pyre. This was his job. And if it took a little longer because he was working alone, so much the better. He lifted the body wrapped in white linen. His brother. He lifted his brother, and placed him on the pyre. 

Hours later, Dean stared at the burning pyre, numb to all feeling. He'd failed. The hollow pit in his stomach threatened to turn to nausea as he watched Sam burn. The gentle thump against his arm that alerted him to Sam's continued ghostly presence just made the sick feeling grow. John was going to pay for this.

[strawberries-on-the-ground]

You Scared Us, Stormy

Relationships: Prinxiety, Parent!Logicality

Summary: Virgil has a motorbike accident and Roman is terrifed for him

Warnings: near death experience, car accident, (probably false) medical talk

(tell me if I need to add anything)

AO3 Link

---

"Virgil's in the hospital."

Virgil's in the hospital. He's been in an accident and he's in the hospital.

These were the words he heard from Virgil's dad, Logan. After learning which hospital, Roman rushed to his car and as soon as he closed the door, tears started coming one after another. He drove to the hospital in the heavy rain, parked his car badly and rushed to the building.

He went to the waiting area of the operating room according to Logan's text. Logan and Patton were leaning against each other. Patton was comforting Logan who was crying softly. Patton's eyes indicated that he also had his own sobbing fit. Roman felt as if he was invading their privacy. When Patton realized he was there, Roman looked like a mess. He was soaking wet, his tears and raindrops on his face were indistinguishable from each other and his throat felt sore from crying.

"Hey, kiddo. He is in surgery."

"The doctor said that he had broken ribs and arm, they suspect muscle and nerve damage and his head doesn't seem to have any major injury." Logan explained.

"Okay, okay. Um, how are you, is there anything I can do for you?"

Patton shook his head. Roman sat in a chair facing the Sanders who seemed to calmed down. After what felt like hours, a nurse came out of the room. They rushed to him.

"Dr. Pierce will explain everything in a moment." he smiled at them emphaticly. Couple of minutes later, the doctor came out of the door. All three were waiting near the door.

"I take you are Virgil Sanders' parents?" she asked, adressing Logan and Patton, they nodded.

"He took most damage on his ribs and his right arm and, as you know, he didn't take any damage on the spinal cord but he does have minor nerve damage on his shoulders and neck, meaning he will most likely need physical therapy. We repaired his ribs with metal plates. We had a good surgery but I can’t really say anything for certain. We'll keep him in the ICU for a while, you have at the very least 3 hours before you see him in there. I suggest you feed yourselves, go home and bring clothes because he will stay at the hospital for a couple of days." she said and asked "Do you have any questions?"

"How long is he going to stay in the ICU?" Logan asked.

"At least for 12 hours. After that, we'll see how he is."

“Is he going to be okay?” Patton asked.

“We are doing everything we can and will continue to do so for him to get better.”

After asking some questions and thanking the doctor, Logan and Patton decided they would ask Virgil's uncle Thomas to bring some clothes. That seemed to be the only advice they listened to from the doctor as they didn't even think about food before Roman brought them sandwiches and coffee.

"Thank you, Roman. We appreciate you being here but you should go home and rest. As the doctor said, Virgil will be in the ICU all night." Patton put his hand on top of Roman's and smiled.

"He is right, there is no point of all of us being here. You can come back tomorrow morning and see him." Logan agreed.

It took some convincing to get Roman to go home. He went back to his car and sat there for a while to put himself together enough to drive. He opened the sun visor and took the photo on it, Virgil and Roman smiling to the camera in front of Roman's car and Virgil's bike. 

Virgil begged his parents for it for months and was extremely happy when they got him one. He promised to be careful and he was, he always wore his helmet which probably saved his life.

He got home and as his twin brother opened the door, he said "You look like hell."

"I feel like it, Remus."

"What happened?" his dad called out from the kitchen.

Roman went to the kitchen with Remus and sat in a chair. "Virgil was in a car accident."

After explaining what he knew to his father and Remus, he went to his room and Remus followed.

"Are you okay? He is going to be okay, like you said, the operation went well."

Roman sat down to his bed. "I just, I love him so much, Remus and I always thought I would have time to tell him that." Roman took a deep breath "I just- I just fell so scared for him."

"I know, Ro." Remus hugged his brother tightly. "He is going to be okay and you are going to be really happy together. Like, like building a garden together happy, you know, with dogs and cats and kids..."

"Two kids, and we're gonna have violet tulips in the garden because it's his favorite." Roman interrupted, smilling.

Remus made Roman take a shower and eat some soup after he calmed down a little more. After the soup, Roman got sleepy and with the text from Logan saying Virgil was stable, he fell asleep.

☆

Roman woke up because of a nightmare in which Virgil faded in Roman's arms. After his heartbeat got to a normal level, he checked his phone, and read the text from last night again.

Update: the doctor told us that Virgil is still unconsious but stable.

-Logan Sanders, 2:14 am

The text was sent four hours earlier. I should get up, he thought.

"Hey, Ro." Roman was greeted by his twin brother who was making coffee, "I knew you'd be up early."

☆

"You seem a lot better today." Remus commented as their father drove them to the hospital. They visited the Sanders.

"Good morning, any news?"

"Hello Ethan, thank you for coming and unfortunately no, they said his situation is still critical." Logan explained.

"If there's anything, and I mean anything, that we can do to help, do not hesitate to ask." Ethan replied.

"Thank you." Patton responded.

"I hope Virgil to gets better soon. I wish I could stay here and be useful but my plane is in two hours." Remus said.

"Back to school?" Patton asked.

"Yes, sir." he replied and and added, "Please keep me updated, Ro."

"Of course."

After Ethan and Remus left, Patton’s brother Thomas joined them and the world's longest wait has begun.

☆

Roman was going insane when the nurse came and told them that they would be able to visit him in the ICU.

“You need to go one by one though.” she added. 

She also said they each had a minute. They wore sanitary masks and other equipment. Roman went in last to see Virgil laying in bed with an oxygen mask and a lot of wires around him. Roman tried to ignore how pale he looked.

“Hey, Virge. You gave us quite a scare.” he took a deep breath and tried to keep a trail of thought, “You’re going to wake up, right? Because we have a lot to do together. We still haven’t gone all those musical festivals, we still haven’t-” he sobbed. “I-I need you to wake up. I love you. I need you.” he took Virgil’s hand. “And if you don’t love me, that’s alright but I still need you in my life, okay?” The nurse came to tell him it was time to get out. “I’ll see you later, buddy.”

That afternoon, Dr. Pierce told them that Virgil was getting better and that they expected him to wake up soon. 

☆

“Hey, Virgil.” Logan said, smiling.

Virgil was taken out of the ICU and put in a private room. He looked extremely sleepy.

“Hey.” his voice sounded like a whisper.

“How are you feeling, my little cloud?” Patton asked.

“Tired and thristy.”

Shortly after he drank the water given to him, Virgil fell asleep. He looked a lot less paler than before, Roman realized.

☆

The next day, when Roman got to the hospital, Virgil looked a lot better. Logan taught Roman how to help Virgil get up so he wouldn’t hurt his ribs. Patton went home to wash some clothes and bring new ones. After Logan sat Virgil down, he kissed his son’s forehead and went out to eat something.

“You scared us, stormy.” Roman said, smilling.

“I’m about to scare you some more.” Virgil said.

“What?”

“When the car hit, when I thought I was going to die, I realised I didn’t regret anything more than-” he held Roman’s hand and pulled him closer, “I’m not sure where this confidence comes from.” He chuckled, “I only regretted never trying, well, here goes nothing.” Roman couldn’t understand what was happenning, he couldn’t give himself hope, he felt like his heart was beating all over his body. “I love you, Roman.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t have to say-”

“I love you, too.” Roman cut Virgil off, “I’ve loved you for so long.” he said, looking at Virgil like he was the most precious being on earth. Virgil smiled, he put his hands on Roman’s waist and pulled him even closer. Roman brushed his hand on Virgil’s cheek and pulled him into a kiss.

[phantomchase-blog1]

GHOSTY ROAD

1.BUSY SCHEDULE

Perhaps my fate  

I am a business man. My life was so busy that I could not even waste a single minute. Perhaps this may be my fate which dragged me to such a terrifying horror.          

I had a marketing business all over the world. Through this, I brought a lot of money to my house. I had a loving wife. We lived together in that busy city.

I was a person who would not believe in any supernatural forces. That mindset could even have brought that horror into my life.

2.MYSTERIOUS TOWN

The Haunted one 

I used to wander around the world for my business problems. I used to gain more and more money from these tours. As usual, I went to a nearby town for my work. That was the town that I had never visited before. The town was ‘Bhagalpur’, the name known for its incidents. I made my deal settled. Then I had finished all my work.

It was the time to get to my car and get a return to my house. As usual, I went to my car parking place and searched for my car. I found my car and tried to start it. But the car didn’t start. The accelerator was damaged. I asked my co-men for the way to near-by garage. I went there and left there my car for a repair. I asked the garage man where to hire a cab. He said, “Sir, there will be a main road if you go on this way straight. There you can hire for a cab,” and he added on, “Sir please remember, here in this town, some things may appear like true, but don’t believe.” I thought he might be saying something and I went off from that place. I went straight my way to the road and waited for any cab to come.

3.STRANGE OLD MAN

Might be my saver

That road was not usual. There was not a single man waiting. At last, I saw a man, somewhat in a different attire. He was wearing a black blanket curled around his body. He had a big moustache. He was like an old saint.  I greeted him, “Hello sir!” and asked him, “Could you please guide me to the nearby bus stop?” Then he replied in a hurried manner, “There is no bus stop here and no buses will stop in this village! Some things may appear like visible, but don’t even believe your eyes. I request you to get out of this town as soon as possible. Hire a cab and go fast!” I was so shocked to hear the same response that I got from the garage man.

Time rolled on for half-an-hour, but no one came to give me a lift. It was almost my dinner time. I was so hungry. Then immediately, my wife came to my remembrance. I made a phone call to my wife by the same number I usually used to do. But, the call was not responded and said, “Please check the number once again!!!!”.

I thought, “Bull s h*t! This is the same number I use to call daily! Then why is it saying like this!” I called again and again to the same number, “0 4 4 – 2 2 *** 4 8 9…,” but in vain.  

But the thing which I saw made me somewhat relaxed. I saw the man from top to bottom and saw that his clothes were all torn. And that made me to think that he was a beggar and that he might be a mad. "So, he might have blabbered like that,” I thought. Then why even the garage man must say like that. That logic didn’t strike me in that tired situation. Really, I was so hungry that I didn’t have such a logical mind at that time. That old man advised me and went off from that place immediately.

After 1 minute, I saw a car rushing on the road. But, for my fate, I happened to miss that car. I had to wait for another few minutes.

4.THE OLD BUS

Strange one

After 5 minutes, there came an old bus. It was painted in a dark grey color. “What for the color,” I thought and entered that bus. There were around 20 passengers. I was astonished to see such a mass number of people during a late night.

I asked that conductor for a ticket to go to the city of Delhi. The conductor without replying anything, gave a ticket. I was so furious seeing the conductor’s attitude. “How dare that man could behave in such an indecent manner with me,” I thought to myself.

Then I was busy in my work arranging all my business files. After a while, having a shivering cool breeze from the side of the window, I fell asleep.

Then suddenly I woke up to see my watch. The time was 11.15 p.m. “Oh my God! This bus is taking me to my house or to the Hell!  How fast it is going, but still I didn’t reach my city,” I thought.

5.HORRIFIC SITUATION

Shit my bricks

At that time, a bus was crossing me on the opposite side. I saw it and a little boy was travelling in it. I saw the boy and the boy was too smiling at me. I shook my hand and said, “Good bye.” That boy too shook hands at me. But seeing something at my back, the little boy was bewildered and cried. I suddenly, saw what was there at my back. There were all the passengers sleeping and nothing was there horrific. So, I controlled my excitement.

After a few minutes, seeing that the bus was still moving and that it was 11.30 p.m. I called upon the conductor. I saw the conductor at the back in the dark. I asked, “Will this bus go to the city of Delhi?” Suddenly the conductor’s eyes changed into red ghostly. The conductor replied in a horrifying manner, “No! This bus will go only to the Hell!” and turned into a zombie-ghost suddenly.

I was shocked to see this horror happen within seconds. I looked into the ticket which the conductor gave and I was panicked to see that the ticket had a date, ’12/06/2015’ which was a past five years date.

Another horror came beside this. All the passengers who were sleeping while the time had woken up and gradually came near to me. They all also changed like a ghost. This made me at once stumbled.  I was moving backwards. But all the ghosts came close to me and said, “You are going to die in the same cliff, we all died.”

When the time was exactly 12.00 midnight and when the bus was about to reach the cliff, I jumped out of the bus. However, I saved my life.

There was a passerby walking. I asked him about the situation. The man replied, “Yes sir! You are the one who have got saved from this incident. This happened on 12/06/2015 at this cliff. All those passengers and the conductor were died in an accident. This incident made a revival of its same horror every day at 12 midnight. Like this the bus has been killing at least one person each day. God has saved you from this.”

Then I understood everything. The passerby had a good heart and invited me to his house. I went to the passerby’s house and slept there that night.

The next day, I went to my house through my repaired car from the garage. After I went to my house, I asked my wife, why didn’t she lift my call that I made. My wife replied that her phone was as usual and that it had no problem in making calls. And she added that she didn’t even get a call from me.  Then I understood everything about that strange village and the bus. I narrated everything to my wife. This experience was a mystery in my life and from then onwards I did not underestimate the power of supernatural forces.

– C.A.S.CHANDRIKA, My site is all about the phantom experiences that I had in my life. Follow the site, if you like this one part of my life. The next blog will be on the haunted doll I had in my childhood. All my blogs will be released on every Monday.

[kian-bera]

Race stood there looking at the broken machine in front of himself. His manager told Race that if he broke one more machine he would be fired, and here was the broken machine that would ruin everything. Race got lucky as his manager was out sick, he needed to find a way to fix the machine.

“Hey Race, in closing, you can head out.” One of the other employees told the youngest member of the crew.

“Really, I thought I would be closing. I need to learn, do I not,” Race asked, turning around to face his co-worker.

“Race, is that really a good idea?”

“Please Jake, just give me a chance. Please?” Race gave him puppy dog eyes making Jake five into Race’s pleads.

“If anything is broken in the morning though, I will call the big guy.” Jake told Race handing overnight the keys to the arcade.

“Thank you Jakey, you will not regret it, I promise.”

“First off, do not call me Jakey, second off, I better not.” Jake rolled his eyes as he walked off leaving Race alone with his broken arcade machine. As soon as Jake was out of the arcade, Race pulled the machine away from the wall. Once it was far enough from the wall, Race slipped behind the machine and unplugged the game.

Taking the panel in the back off, he found a lot of wires. Race did not know what to expect. He detached several wires and placed them back into different holes. Replacing the back panel, he plugged the game back into the wall. The machine began to smoke and Race unplugged it hoping it would not set off the fire alarm.

When the smoke cleared, luckily not setting off the fire alarm, Race sat down in defeat. He really wanted to show that he could do his job. He needed this job to keep his small apartment. It was the first real thing he had personally owned and paid for in his life. To him, the apartment was a sign that Race could make it on his own.

Sitting down on the floor, Race began to look up video game machine repair mechanics. This late at night most of them were closed for the evening. As he kept scrolling, Race noticed one who said to call anytime. He figured it could not be true and called the number on the screen. After a few rings, a deep sleepy voice answered the phone.

“Hello? This is Colons repair shop. How can I help you.”

“Hello, my name is Race Higgens. I broke one of the machines in the arcade I work at and was wondering if there was any way you could come down to Manhattan’s Adventurous Arcade and fix the machine. I tried to fix the machine myself, but it began to smoke. I think I only made it worse by trying to fix the machine.”

“You said Manhattan’s Adventurous Arcade?” The voice asked.

“Yes please. It is urgent. If my manager finds out about the broken machine I will lose my job, I can not lose my job, or I will be back out on the streets.”

“Hey calm down, it will be okay. I will be there in about twenty minutes okay? Just stay calm.”

“Oh...okay. Thank you.” Race hung up the phone and sat down in front of the machine. He glanced up at the few tendrils I’d smoke still floating and punched the machine in frustration.

Thirty minutes had passed by and Race was beginning to lose hope that the mechanic would come to fix the machine. He then heard the front door open to the arcade. In stepped a medium built guy with what could be black hair and a shredded red tank top.

Race sat there for a second before shaking his head. He had no idea another human being could be that handsome.

“Hey over here!” Race called out getting the person’s attention.

“Oh hello, I do not believe I introduced myself on the phone. My name is Spot Colon. I work at Colon’s Repair shop.”

“Oh Spot Huh, my name is Track Race...er….Racetrack. My name is race track, but most people just call me Race. You can call me whatever you like sir. Well I guess you are not really a sir, we seem to be about the same age. So the machine, this is the game. As I said, I tried to fix the game myself, but I think I made the problem worse. It began to smoke.” Race explained.

“Did you move around any wires?” Spot asked sitting on the floor with his toolbox. Race had not even noticed the toolbox. It was the same red as Spot’s tank top with black splotches all over the box.

“Yes I did, that was probably a bad idea.” Race said sitting next to Spot.

“Yes it was, different wires carry different currents and functions. Mixing them could result in dangerous surges of electricity. You are lucky you are not dead.” Spot explained as he began to unplug the wires Race had replugged. They sat there for several minutes before Race began to start asking questions.

“How did you learn how to do all this? Is it easy? Do you think you could show me? I tend to break these games all the time. I am kinda rough on the machines.”

“Well I grew up around this kind of stuff. I guess I just kinda picked it up over the years. To me it is easy. I could probably do this blind folded, although I would not suggest doing this blindfolded. That could become very dangerous, very fast.”

“How do the different colors mean?”

“You talk a lot.” Spot said glancing up at Race.

“Yes I do, especially when I am nervous. It helps calm me down. I am so sorry, am I distracting you?” Race asked sitting back. He noticed Spot’s eyes which were a deep mocha color. They remind Race of the gingerbread he made every Christmas. The soft brown melted into a honey color.

“Race….Race?” Spot asked. Race snapped back into reality, shaking his head.

“Yes?”

“Hey the machine was a simple fix, although you really did mix a lot of the wires. That would explain why the machine began to smoke. It is all good as new though now, your manager will never find out that it was broken. Although I would turn it on to try the game. Make sure it runs smoothly.” Spot suggested standing up, pushing the game back against the wall.

“Oh yeah okay.” Race turned the game on, the lights and music blaring as it was the only game on in the arcade. Race ran the game through several rounds before turning the game off. “Thank you so much, how much will it cost?” Race asked heading to the employee lounge to grab his wallet.

“Nothing, it was a simple fix. Think of it as a gift from one desperate person to another.” Spot told Race.

“Why are you desperate?” Race asked, grabbing his bag from his locker.

“Well I got kicked out of my apartment. I have been sleeping at the shop. All these big name corporate guys are giving me a run for my money. Two, I lost my bracelet, so if I ever meet my soulmate, I will not know I met them.” Race explained, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Would you at least like a shower and some fresh clothes?” Race asked.

“Really?” Spot’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas.

“Yes really, it is the least I could do since you saved my job.” Spot nodded and followed Rave out the doors. Race made sure all the lights were off, and the doors locked. He went out to his car, and found the window broken. Race sighed and searched for his keys to get inside.

“Your car was broken into, are you not going to call the police?” Spot questioned glaring at the broken window.

“We have a batting cage over on the side. The net broke a few weeks ago. This was only a matter of time.” Race unlocked the car and threw the baseball into the backseat. “Hop in, I will bring you back later for your car.” Spot just nodded and got into the passenger seat. Race turned on the heat and seat warmers. The two rode in silence, the only noise was the music from the radio.

When they arrived at Race’s apartment, race showed Spot inside and led him to the bathroom. Race quickly ran to his room and found some old clothes and laid them out on the counter. Race went to go make a snack as Spot took his shower.

“Hey race?” Spot called.

“Yes?” Race called back.

“Who is your soulmate? I see your bracelet here on the counter has changed colors to black and green. Black is my favorite color actually.”

“That is funny.” Race said giggling. “It was pure white this morning when I left for work.” Spot walked out holding the bracelet in his hand.

“Well it is black with specks of green now.” Spot told him, handing Race his bracelet.

“Wait, but that means…” Race glanced up at Spot and smiled. “Spot, you...you are my soulmate. You do not need your bracelet. If you find it, I am one hundred percent it would be green with specks of black.”

“Oh...wow…” Spot gave a small laugh and went to put his wallet in his toolbox. When he opened the box, Spot saw something green in the corner. Spot pulled the green object. He had found his bracelet. Green with specks of black just had Race had said it would be colored.

[ineffable-writer]

It’s 2 AM and I typed up 2000 words of Crowley and Aziraphale taking a walk in which Crowley gets scared by a goat.

AO3 here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807757/chapters/52124167#workskin

Whole thing below the break. This is what happens when I spend a weekend with no one’s company but my own. I should sleep now.

The Walk to Cawdor Castle

It was a twenty-seven-minute walk from the cottage they’d rented to Cawdor castle, but Aziraphale was convinced they could get there quicker. There was a path, you see, a clear footpath that Crowley’s device didn’t know about, but you could see it plain as day on the satellite map. It was some sort of walking path through the woods, and wouldn’t that be lovelier than dodging cars along the road?

Crowley was not invested in dodging cars along the road—although he wasn’t invested in walking to the castle in the first place—so they ignored the directions. It was a left in front of the cottage, down a few signs that read very clearly public property, then a path through the woods. The residences here were absolutely beautiful. All gardens and hedges and flowers, although the plants were dry for the winter. But clearly very well-maintained. And at least one of the properties had hedges that would have benefited from some group therapy with Crowley’s plants: they could hear an older gentleman cursing at them in a braw thunder as they passed. The demon threw the quivering foliage a glare as they walked past.

Hard to put the effort in for that, though. He was in a good mood.

“Did you ever get up here?” he asked, fending off the inevitable lecture from the angel with a question. “You know, while he was Thane? Or king?”

“Oh, no. Too busy running around in the damp with you. In that dreadful armor.” Aziraphale shuddered at the thought. Literally. Show-off. “Did you?”

“Nah.” Crowley rolled his shoulders. It was mostly quiet, save for the cursing of the man at the hedges, but they could still hear the roar of the highway from here. “Was up here during Culloden. And… after.”

“Really? I. I didn’t know.”

“On and off. Poked my head in. Appearance’s sake.”

“Explains—”

“Yeah, it gave me the idea. World felt… shaky. People getting’ thrown about with no insurance. Fire and flame. Hit close to home.”

They took a right—there was a brief and breathtaking view of the valley with the mountains beyond—and then there was a left, and there was indeed a path where Aziraphale had insisted there was one. Crowley suddenly remembered how much he loved pavement. He never appreciated a good, solid road until there weren’t any to take.

They shouldn’t have expected anything less than the muddy pit before them, of course. It hadn’t rained too recently, but there was snowmelt, and this was Scotland after all. The path was in all right shape, but it was pocketed with bog, and there wasn’t a good way to cross this muck without getting it on them. Angel and demon both hesitated.

“Miss the car yet?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, hush. Where’s your adventurous spirit?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale tutted, shimmied himself into a pose that said yes, I am very definitely going to walk straight through this mud pit, any minute now, good sir! and promptly hesitated. “Only, well. I really would prefer not to get it all over these shoes.”

The demon sighed. He waved his hand as though letting Aziraphale ahead, a simple after you, and there was a board across the pit. The angel smiled broadly, and the shimmying of his shoulders relaxed into a pleasurable wave as he crossed from the safety of a miraculous bridge. Crowley followed. He didn’t need the dirt either, after all.

“The castle wasn’t here when he was either,” said Aziraphale. “Macbeth was actually hundreds of years before the castle.”

“Where did he stay, then?” South of them, on their left: not old forest, but wild forest, at least, an attempt to come back from the clearing of the land. Red, dry ferns in their winter state, minty-green growth sprawling on the northern faces of the trees. Foliose lichens dangled and scattered around the forest—bunching in branches and climbing the trunks—with paler, crustose lichens that sprawled in rippling circles on the rocks, the logs.

The angel frowned. “You know, I’m not sure. But I’d still like to see it. Do the tourist thing. It did look pretty in the photographs on the World Wide Web.”

“World Wide—no one calls it that anymore, angel. It’s the internet. Not a proper noun.” On their right, a stone wall had fallen into disuse, now pillowy and puffed with vibrant moss. An altogether different forest lay to the north of the path: instead of wild trees and ferns and growths, a grid of towering trees—perhaps conifers? But not evergreens—had been planted, and were now reaching for the sky.

Aziraphale stopped to examine an eggshell that had fallen from somewhere, had nestled between the fallen needles of the trees. He smiled at it. He was downright angelic at it. Crowley could feel the angel’s thoughts radiating from him: something nauseating about the circle of life and the joy of youth. It was disgustingly beautiful. Crowley managed to pull the besotted stare off his face before the angel looked up again.

The path, it was increasingly clear, had been formed by cart wheels and maintained by tires. It tapered off into a staging area for some industrial business that was closed for the week-end, and continued across the lot as a road. They passed through a small herd of unliving machinery—perhaps some sort of logging situation, Aziraphale mused, that would explain the grid of trees—and Crowley miracled up another bridge before they were once again beside the wood, occasionally stepping aside to let cars go past.

Crowley’s hand found the angel’s, again. They did that a lot these days.

Once they were on the proper road, they consulted Google Maps again and tried to figure out the best course to the castle. Crowley insisted it was just through an arch between two buildings—“We can ignore the sign, angel, there’s no one here, we just walked through private property,”—but trespassing again was, for some reason, just too much, so they went a little further down the road to circle around the offending property. They ended up walking past a field full of black goats, framed by the Highlands and the blue sky and the chill wind. The road curved south up ahead, and at the bend they should have been able to get to the castle grounds.

Crowley did not like goats.

They had eyes, was it. Reminded him too much of his boss. The horns, too. All off in weird places. Hooves. Not his thing. Not his scene, goats.

And one was out of the enclosure. A big one. Black as the night and with no discernable method of having gotten out. The fence was secure, the gate was padlocked shut, and all the other goats were inside, where they were supposed to be.  

Crowley made the noise.

“Ngk—”

“What? Oh! Oh, hello, you sweet boy, what are you doing out here?” Aziraphale went right to it, of course, and looked quite put out when it darted anxiously away. “I think he’s lost!”

“No he’s not, he knows exactly where he is! The pasture’s right there.”

“How on Earth did you get out, my dear?” Aziraphale turned around, looking for a way to rescue the wayward soul, but no opportunities presented themselves. Crowley was getting increasingly suspicious of the creature, so Aziraphale stepped away. “Nothing to be done, I suppose.”

“It’s fine. They’re clever. Come on.”

“Hm.”

Aziraphale said nothing when they gave the goat a wide berth, and took his demon’s arm as they wandered up the hill toward the marked parking area. It wasn’t far—just behind some houses—but there wasn’t a car in sight. Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh, it’s closed!” The gate into the property was shut and locked, as was the gate to the gardens. Aziraphale sighed and peered through the latter. It was beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale. “I thought you said it was open.”

“The hours listed on the app say it’s open.” Crowley fiddled with his phone. “The website’s different. Looking at it. Says it’s shut for winter repairs.”

Aziraphale didn’t understand what an app was or why it would be different from the World Wide Web, but he assumed it made sense to Crowley. He sighed, dejected. “Well, I suppose that’s that.”

“We could still go in.” There was something indulgent in the way Crowley reacted to the angel’s disappointment, a richness in that empathy that reminded Aziraphale of devil’s food cake and well-aged wine. He wasn’t sure why he felt that so strongly, but he was sure they were both aware of it. Aziraphale didn’t need to look to see the pout.

“No, no, there’s no point if no one’s there. We are tourists, we aren’t straying off the beaten path.”

“Isn’t that literally how we—”

Ba-a-a-a-a.

Crowley jumped a foot in the air when the escaped goat bleated behind him. He bowled into Aziraphale, knocking the angel against the gate to the garden, and somehow the angel found himself in front of his friend, facing the goat like a human shield. He sighed, because if he didn’t sigh he would laugh aloud, and Crowley would sulk about that.

“Let’s at least get him back where he’s supposed to be.”

They managed it somehow. Aziraphale miracled open the padlock and Crowley herded it toward the gate. There were a number of strangled noises—Aziraphale wasn’t sure how much Crowley herded the goat versus how much the goat herded Crowley—but eventually the angel managed to lure the poor thing back into the enclosure, and he slipped out without letting any of the other animals escape. The lock clicked shut and the angel looked immensely pleased with himself.

“See? A little hard work and—”

The goat hopped over the fence.

Crowley and Aziraphale both stared at it. It bleated, turned, and nudged the fence woefully. The other goats finally seemed to realize it was on the wrong side and wandered over, curious. There was a quiet, distressed chorus of bleating.

Crowley burst out laughing. Aziraphale threw up his hands, exasperated, elbows tight at his side. He turned and walked back towards the main road, definitively giving up. There was only so much a person could do.

Crowley followed and caught his arm. “Read a book once,” he said.

“Did you? Once? I’m so proud.”

“Shut up. It was satire, doesn’t count. Great writer, though. Said Christians would have turned out a lot different if Jesus had been a goatherd instead of a shepherd.”

“He was a carpenter,” said Aziraphale.

“Nonono, it was satire. Character was a literal shepherd. Jesus was a metaphorical one.”

“Why didn’t he just make the character a goatherd?”

Crowley decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Which way are we going back? Main road or your shortcut?”

“Hm.” Aziraphale squeezed his arm. “The path less traveled by, I think.”

“Right,” said Crowley. “Adventurous spirit.”

[lilyvandersteen]

Out of the Blue: To the Rescue

Cover art: @redheadgleek​

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage​

Links: AO3, FF.net 

Author’s Note:

This chapter was the most exciting one to write. I hope you enjoy reading it too!

Chapter 9: To the Rescue

"His misfortunes!" repeated Darcy contemptuously; "yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed."

"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced him to his present state of poverty--comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule."

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

 The day of Sam and Mercedes’ wedding, Blaine was woken up at a quarter to four in the morning by the PI, who informed him that Chandler had gone to the restaurant at night, broken in and started a fire. It had all gone too fast for the PI to prevent it or put the fire out without too much damage. “Must have used gasoline or something, the fucker!”

However, the PI did have all the proof needed to convict Chandler for arson, so that was a plus.

“He’s gone somewhere else now. Jack’s following him. I have to stay here until the firefighters arrive.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Not even ten minutes later, the phone rang again, this time around to tell Blaine that Chandler had wreaked havoc at the church. Again, the PI had failed to prevent the damage. He did have proof of Chandler’s misdeeds, though.

That rat! That fucking bastard! Who the hell does things like that! He’ll pay for this! But first, I need to fix it. I won’t give him the satisfaction of having ruined the wedding. No, sir.

“Enough!” Blaine hissed. “Tell me where he’s heading now!”

“I think he’s going to the bakery. Mulberry Drive 224.”

“The both of you, go there as fast as you can and grab Chandler BEFORE he ruins the wedding cake. I’ll call the police and then I’ll be on my way to Lima, too.”

Before he left his parents’ house, he shook Cooper awake and told him what was happening.

Coop, once he was awake enough to pay attention, swore under his breath, and then took a wad of cash and his credit card out of his wallet and handed all of it to Blaine. “Go and fix this, Blaine. I don’t care how much it will cost. You need to save this wedding. Oh, this is all my fault, I should have used my influence to put Chandler behind bars for what he did to Kurt. The guy’s crazy!”

Blaine shook his head. “This is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine! I should have contacted our PI long before now, and I should have put two and two together.”

“No use arguing now,” Coop said. “Go!! I’ll make your excuses to Mom and Dad, and I’ll come to the church as fast as I can so I can help out, too.”

Shortly after seven in the morning,, Blaine was surveying the damage at the church. The minister and his wife were with him, sad and subdued.

“And to think we were worried about ever raising enough money to repair the roof,” the wife whispered, and started crying, her hand over her mouth.

The minister took her in his arms to comfort her, and said, “This looks worse than it is, Doris. Nothing some cleaning and scrubbing and painting won’t fix.”

Blaine took his chance. “Reverend, I’ll pay for everything, also the roof and any other repairs the church might need, if you can help me save the wedding today.”

The minister patted his arm. “No need to bribe us. We love Sam and Mercedes, and of course we’ll do our utmost to get this mess cleaned up in time. I’ll contact everyone I know, and I’m sure they’ll all chip in.”

Blaine grimaced. “It’s not just the church.”

He explained about the restaurant burning down, and saw the minister frown, deep in thought.

Then Doris suggested, “We could use our garden, right, Jim? And the ladies of our congregation could help out with the food. It won’t be much, and it won’t be fancy, but at least it’ll be something. Maybe we could have a barbecue? We can use our grill, and Mr. Rogers will lend us his, too, I’m sure.”

The minister nodded, a slow smile stealing over his face as he squeezed his wife’s hand.

“That sounds wonderful,” Blaine said. “I’ll arrange for meat and fruit and vegetables and so on to be delivered to your house then, ma’am. Also the wedding cake, which is thankfully unharmed. Could you please make me a list of everything you ladies will need?”

He followed the minister to his house, inspected the garden, which was certainly big enough and then some, and helped Doris compile a list of food for the barbecue.

“We’ll also need decorations,” she said hesitantly. “For the church, and for here in the garden. And lights. Crockery and silverware. Tables and chairs too. I could ask the parishioners, but I don’t know…”

“On it,” Blaine promised. “Here’s my cell phone number. If anything else comes to mind, you text or call me, okay? Or if there is any problem, just holler and I’ll fix it for you. All right? That’s kind of my job, problem-solving, and I’ve got all sorts of handy connections.”

She nodded and smiled at him. “Sam and Mercedes must be very good friends of yours for you to go to all this trouble.”

Blaine smiled back. “Sam’s a great guy. And he deserves a perfect wedding.”

From then on, the rest of the morning was a blur of activity. Blaine tackled the decoration issue first, knowing they’d need all the time they could get. Remembering how the loft and terrace had looked at that first wedding Kurt had organized, he searched for a beautiful gauzy fabric to hide any imperfections with, and bought the shop’s entire supply of it. He also stocked up on string lights, table cloths and runners, centerpieces, napkins, china, silverware and glasses, and bought a mountain of food, dozens of champagne and wine bottles and fizzy drinks for the children, as well as cooler boxes and refrigerators to store everything in, and sent it all over to the minister’s along with the wedding cake.

While handing the delivery boy a tip, he got a phone call from Sam, and knew that he had to trust the ladies of the church to organize and carry out the rest of the tasks there, because he couldn’t go back to the church and help. Sam’s predicament sent him in another direction.

Sam was usually so relaxed and zen that Blaine hadn’t immediately recognized the voice on the phone, panicked as it sounded. The gist of the matter was that Sam’s best man had disappeared. He’d been staying with his parents for the weekend, but according to them, he hadn’t returned from the rehearsal dinner they’d had the previous evening. His bed hadn’t been slept in. He also hadn’t called or texted, and his phone went straight to voicemail. His suit was hanging on the wardrobe next to his bed, but the wedding rings were nowhere to be found.

“What am I gonna do?”

“You don’t need to do a thing, Sam,” Blaine assured him. “I’ll handle this. All I need is for you to send me a recent picture of the guy that’s missing. I’ll also need to know his full name and his birth date and what he was wearing last night. Oh, and his telephone number. Maybe we can track his cell phone to find him.”

Blaine hurried to his car, and rummaged in the glove compartment for a pen and a piece of paper so that he could jot everything down.

Sam was silent for a minute. “Wow. You always know what to do, don’t you? All right, it’s Michael Robert Chang Jr., born on the 28th of April 1982. I can’t look up his number on my phone while I’m calling you, so I’ll text you his number later. What was he wearing yesterday? I really can’t remember. I’ll call his mom and get back to you, okay?”

“Just give me her number, that’s faster,” Blaine told him. “Text me both Michael’s number and his mother’s. And a picture, please.”

“Kay. And what do I do about the rings?”

“Easy. Tell me what jeweler the rings are from, and I’ll get you new ones. And I’ll gladly stand in as your best man, unless you’d rather ask someone else.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver!”

Blaine jotted down the jeweler’s name and address and rang off. After a short call to Mrs. Chang, he compiled an e-mail with all the information plus the photograph, and sent it to his PI, asking him to track down the missing best man.

He was already buckling in and starting the engine to head to the jeweler’s when his phone rang again.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled, but he accepted the call.

It was the minister, who told Blaine there were protesters in front of the church.

“Protesters?” Blaine asked. “What are they protesting against?”

The minister let out a long sigh. “Mixed marriage.”

“Seriously? In the twenty-first century?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I told them to leave, but they wouldn’t budge.”

“Okay. I’ll sort it out, Reverend, I promise. In the meantime, tell your people to stay away from those nutcases, in case they become aggressive.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Blaine tapped with his fingers on his dashboard and groaned in frustration. Chandler, while being led away by the police that morning, had laughed and shouted at him, “Good luck fixing this mess! I’ve got some more surprises in store for you!”

Well, he certainly hoped that this was the last unpleasant surprise.

He called his friend Wes, who worked for his father, the mayor of Westerville, and explained the situation.

“You’re in luck. It’s outside of my dad’s constituency, but our riot control team has a training exercise near Lima today, so I’ll brief them about this situation and send them over, and it can be comped as extra training.”

“I’ll pay for everything. I want this wedding to go off without a hitch.”

“Are you the best man or something?”

“Yes, I am. Thanks, Wes, I knew I could count on you!”

At the jeweler’s, they explained to him that they couldn’t provide him with two replacement rings on such short notice. When Blaine told them that he only needed the order form for the original rings and could head to any other jeweler with that information, they backed down quickly. “Well, we can’t offer you the exact same rings, but we can show you a selection of very similar ones.”

Blaine looked at what they had. For Sam, there would be no problem. His ring was a simple band of white gold, which they had in stock. All that lacked was the inscription. Mercedes’ ring was more intricate, but the rings on offer did resemble the picture on the order form.

Blaine chose the one that looked most like the original, though in platinum and with more diamonds, and whipped out Cooper’s credit card to pay for both rings.

The jeweler looked over the moon, until Blaine insisted on both rings being engraved straight away. “The original inscription, please.”

“But… but… That takes hours!”

“You have until a quarter to three,” Blaine informed him, settling down on the plush sofa in the jeweler’s waiting room. “I’ll wait.”

While he was at the jeweler’s, he checked in with everyone.

He briefed Cooper about Chandler’s misdeeds, and urged him to go to the church asap to see if anything else needed to be arranged. “Already there, bro! I’ll handle things at the church, don’t you worry.”

He asked his PI for updates, and just after noon, he got word that Michael Chang Jr. had been found in Faurot park. Drugged, unresponsive and suffering from hypothermia, but otherwise okay.

Blaine asked for Michael to be brought to the nearest hospital, and called Mrs. Chang to tell her the news.

Then he contacted the minister again to tell him a riot control team was on the way, and to know how the clean-up and decorating was going. The minister sounded a lot happier than last time he heard him. The riot team had already come and taken the protesters away, and everyone from the neighbourhood was helping out. Both the garden and the church were starting to look festive.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“I think we do, yes. Thank you!”

After twiddling his thumbs for a while, it occurred to Blaine that Mercedes and Sam would need music, too, for their first dance and the ensuing party, so he called Thad, who’d started a band after he graduated and was always looking for gigs. Thad and his band mates weren’t yet booked for that day, and agreed to play at the wedding.

“Sure, dude. We’ll be there! What’s the song for the first dance?”

“I’ll give you the groom’s phone number, you can talk through the setlist with him. Best stick to a cappella singing or bring your own power supply, ‘cause the party is in someone’s garden, and we wouldn’t want to cause a blackout.”

“Right.”

“I’ll pay you guys tonight, when you arrive, okay? See you then!”

Finally, the rings were done, and Blaine paid for the engraving and gave the jeweler a hefty tip for doing it so quickly.

The smell of grilling meat hit his nose when he stepped outside, and his stomach growled. He’d forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, and in the meantime it was – he checked his watch – half past two. Also, he still had to shower, shave and do his hair and put on the suit he’d brought for the occasion. Which was at his parents’ house in Westerville. There was no way he’d be able to drive there and get back to Lima on time. But he couldn’t show up unkempt and unshaven either.

Think, Anderson.

But his energy was depleted, and instead of hurrying to sort this out, too, he sagged against his car and passed a hand over his eyes.

His phone rang, and he grabbed it sluggishly. It was Cooper.

“Hey squirt! If I know you, you’re still out there somewhere in your sweats and with your bedhead, right? Well, seeing as you’re cutting it close, I’ve brought your suit here, and I’ve asked the minister if you could use his bathroom to get ready. Oh, and I’ve ordered pizza. You probably haven’t eaten a bite yet all day.”

Blaine let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Coop.”

“No problem. Get here pronto, and there still might be a meat lovers pizza for you.”

Blaine felt much better once he was all spruced up and had some food in his belly. He followed Sam into the church, noting that the protesters were gone and that any trace of the vandalism had been wiped out or camouflaged.

As the bride came down the aisle, everyone sitting in the pews was smiling, so he hoped with all his heart that all the hiccups had been dealt with now, and that the wedding would be smooth sailing.

Wait, did he say everyone? Kurt was looking straight at him, and seemed put out about something.

Blaine inclined his head and smiled hesitantly at his crush, who responded with a fierce glare.

What was that about? Oh… Had Blaine missed a best man cue? He pulled his attention back to the ceremony, but no, the minister was still talking, and all he had to do at the moment was stand there and listen.

He liked the minister’s sermon. He spoke of love not being a feeling but a commitment, something to work on every day. It was no-nonsense and poignant, and the sentiments expressed struck a chord with him.

He couldn’t help stealing a glance at Kurt every now and then. Kurt was wearing a light grey tuxedo, and looking so much like Blaine’s daydreams about them getting married that it made Blaine want to go and kiss him.

The exchanging of the vows and the rings came and went, and Mercedes didn’t seem to have noticed her ring was slightly different from the one she’d chosen.

Still, Blaine didn’t breathe easy until the ceremony was over and everyone was in the minister’s garden, laughing and talking and queuing at the buffet.

There had been no more alt-righters outside the church when they all filed out, the garden looked like a dream and the food smelled amazing, even after that large pizza Blaine had gobbled up earlier. Now he hoped that Thad and his band mates would arrive on time, and then there would be nothing more to worry about.

Thad did turn up, and Blaine bopped his head happily to the music as he worked up the courage to ask Kurt to dance, moving closer to him where he was chatting with the bride.

When he got within hearing distance, he was dismayed to hear that Kurt disapproved of him as the replacement best man. Kurt’s assessment of him stung, but Blaine had to admit that he had a point. Blaine had lost his temper around Kurt on several occasions, and yes, he had been rude.

Determined to make up for past mistakes, Blaine pasted on his most charming smile as he endeavoured to catch Kurt’s attention and then asked him to dance.

Kurt blushed, actually blushed, when he saw Blaine, and his mouth fell open when Blaine held out his hand for him to take.

After Kurt’s diatribe, he’d expected to be turned down flat, but miraculously, Kurt said yes, and moments later, Blaine was in seventh heaven with Kurt in his arms.

He didn’t feel much like talking, wanting to soak up every aspect of this dance so he’d be able to relive it a million times in daydreams. However, he made an effort to be sociable by praising first the ceremony, then the wedding dress, and then Kurt’s prowess, when it turned out Kurt had made the dress himself. Wow, was there anything he couldn’t do?

Kurt let out the cutest giggle at the compliment, and it made Blaine giddy. He was making progress here, wasn’t he? Real progress!

Yet there had been that glare earlier, and Kurt darkly referring to horrible things Blaine had done.

Before he knew it, Blaine had asked what that had been all about, and then wished he’d held his tongue,, because Kurt looked spitting mad again, and brought up the incident at the wedding where they met, and… What? The way Blaine had treated Chandler? Shouldn’t that be the other way round? Chandler was by no means the victim here!

But when Blaine said so, Kurt’s retort made it seem like he thought Blaine and Chandler had been dating at one time. What kind of lies had Chandler been telling him?

Must not lose my temper… Must not lose my temper…

Blaine kept his reply short and to the point, and as soon as he’d set Kurt straight, he strode out of the garden before he could blow up entirely.

Ugh, that little weasel! What on earth did he tell Kurt? And is there no end to his manipulation and sabotage?

By the time he reached his parents’ house, he was a little bit calmer, and had decided to send Kurt an e-mail with the cold hard facts and the evidence. Heaven knew there was enough of it by now. And then Kurt could decide whom he wanted to believe.

It rankled how Kurt was so ready to believe the worst of Blaine and the best of Chandler. But at least on that count, Blaine had the truth on his side. The rant at the wedding, however, had been entirely Blaine’s fault, and he’d apologise for that once more. And he would strive to conquer his temper. He would.

An hour and a half later, he re-read what he’d written, checked the attachments, and then logged into Cooper’s work mail account to find Kurt’s e-mail address. It wasn’t stalking, okay? It wasn’t. Blaine didn’t plan on writing to Kurt ever again, but he deserved to know the truth. And Blaine deserved… closure.

After this, he’d stay away from Kurt. He was determined not to seek him out again. He’d leave the initiative up to Kurt.

Yeah, tell that to someone who’ll believe you…

[chokememrstark]

Enough Is Enough (or: Not On Tony's Watch) // Starker

Words: ~ 3,9k

Summary: Tony cares a lot about Peter and when the boy comes over one day covered in dirt and with a ruined backpack, he decides to take action against the bullying he knows Peter is going through and constantly talks down. He won't let the kid be hurt any longer, not if he can stop it and make him feel better.

Warnings: bullying, protective!tony, shy!peter, shopping, problem solving the tony stark way, gifts, embarrassment, platonic sugar daddy (i guess? tony just wants to help XD)

Note: Not much to say about this other than enjoy some fluff and Tony spoiling Peter because I’m weak for that.

[Read on AO3]

Tony grew fond of Peter, that’s not really a secret. Whenever Peter comes over, Tony’s mood is immediately lifted and he enjoys spending time with the kid, whether it’s while they work in the lab or when Peter stays over for dinner. It’s always fun and the kid is a true sunshine. Tony can easily tell that Peter has a crush on him, but he doesn’t mind at all. It’s flattering and charming and there’s nothing bad about having a crush, so he sees no reason to bring it up and embarrass him.

When they become more familiar and open with each other, it’s only a matter of time until Peter talks about things that aren’t as nice and positive, obviously. It’s not much, given the positive attitude and mindset Peter has, but one thing keeps coming up randomly: money. Peter never asks for anything from Tony, but from time to time, the topic comes up and Tony never likes it. It always leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

May works hard to support herself and Peter, Tony knows that and he has never met a woman this determined to give her nephew a decent life, but he also knows that it’s not much that they have. Peter doesn’t complain about it though, he never does. He only ever speaks highly of his aunt, which Tony finds very sweet. The lack of money, however, becomes a problem regularly.

Like that time Peter came over, close to tears, because his phone was broken. Apparently, it was in his backpack as some guys decided to play soccer with it and even after closely inspecting it, Tony had to tell him there was no saving it. The screen was cracked beyond repair and it was bent horribly. He managed to get his SIM out at least, but that was all he could do. Tony knew Peter couldn’t afford a new one and it took hours of convincing before the kid accepted one from him as a gift.

After that, Peter wouldn’t stop thanking him for weeks, completely overwhelmed that Tony actually gave him his very own Stark phone, something that was more expensive than anything else Peter owned. Tony tried his best to assure Peter that it was fine and that he was glad he could help him get a new one, but from this day on, he sometimes catches Peter looking at his phone, a soft and almost gentle smile on his face, even when it’s turned off. He tries not to blush when he notices this, but sometimes he can’t help it.

The teasing and bullying is something that Peter occasionally mentions, but always acts as if it’s nothing big, even though it is. Tony can see it’s bigger than Peter admits it is, even if he won’t admit it. He hates seeing this wonderful and kind kid in distress over some dumb bullies. Peter doesn’t deserve to be treated this way and Tony finds himself surprisingly protective over him whenever the topic comes up.

One day, Peter comes over after school, tears shimmering in his eyes and clutching his backpack, which is completely torn and dirty, just like his clothes. Seeing this rings all of Tony’s alarm bells and he immediately wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulder to guide him over to a chair, before going to the kitchen and making him a hot chocolate - Peter’s favorite calm down drink. After carrying it over and putting it onto the table, Tony kneels down in front of Peter, looking at him.

“You want to tell me what happened, kid?” he asks, taking one of Peter’s hands into his own.

“It’s… it’s nothing, really,” Peter says and shakes his head, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “Just a dumb fight, nothing bad.”

“I don’t know if you walked past a mirror recently, but it doesn’t look like nothing to me.” Tony tries to sound like he’s joking, but on the inside he’s boiling. Whoever did this to Peter deserves to pay for it. A lot.

“No, it… it’s just some dirt,” Peter insists, turning his head.

“And what about your backpack?” Tony asks, glancing over at it. “What happened to it?”

Peter doesn’t answer, but his cheeks turn pink and Tony absolutely hates it. What on earth did those little brats do? He’s already imagining just walking into Peter’s school to punch them in the face personally when the kid speaks again, drawing his attention.

“May will be so mad… I only had this backpack for a few months…”

Okay, that’s it. That’s enough. Tony won’t let this go any further, no way.

“She won’t be mad,” he says sternly and stands up, taking the mug with the hot chocolate from the table and handing it to Peter. “You’ll drink this and calm down, I’ll take care of this.”

“B-But Mr. Stark!” Peter immediately protests, his eyes widening in shock and fear, but Tony shakes his head.

“No, kid. This ends now,” he says, looking at Peter. “I won’t watch those brats bully you any longer.”

“They don’t! They just -” Peter’s voice trails off and he drops his head slowly.

“We both know that’s exactly what they are doing and you don’t deserve it, okay?” Tony sighs and shakes his head. “It’s Friday, you have all your school stuff with you. I want you to stay here over the weekend, I’ll call May so she won’t worry.”

“But, I can’t!” Peter gasps, clutching the mug in his hands. “I can’t stay, sir, please, I…”

“I’ve watched this for months now, Peter, I won’t do it anymore,” Tony says strictly, ending all arguing. “Tonight we will take care of your homework and you’ll tell me what happened, then I will take care of it.”

Peter doesn’t protest again and Tony nods, leaving to make a few calls.

-----

“So, you’re ready to talk about it?” Tony asks as he puts down the pizza he ordered for them. Peter still looks uncomfortable, but it got better. After calling May and explaining to her that Peter needs to stay over the weekend so they can work on some things - not without promising her that he will do his homework of course - the teen had barely talked.

“It wasn’t anything important, I told you,” Peter mumbles ashamed, not even looking at the pizza, even though his stomach is growling at the smell alone.

“Okay, then what unimportant thing justifies ruining your backpack and your clothes?” Tony sighs, sitting down opposite of Peter.

The boy is silent for what feels like forever, but Tony gives him his time as he starts eating. He doesn’t want to push him any more than he already did, otherwise he will only shut down more and that isn’t going to help anyone. When Peter finally speaks again, he sounds close to tears.

“We were talking about… about work and how to get experience… and I mentioned internships because it’s a good way of gaining experience and…”

Tony looks up from his pizza, frowning. He knows where this is going, but he needs Peter to tell him.

“Flash started his crap again about how my imaginary internship with you doesn’t count as experience and that I should stop lying because no one would hire a poor ass like me anyway…”

“So, this happened in class?” Tony asks curiously, but Peter shakes his head.

“Afterwards when I… when I was about to leave school… Flash cut me off. And he started it all over again. I told him to shut it and to stop annoying me, but he didn’t… he pushed me over into the dirt and grabbed my… my backpack and started laughing about… how I can’t even defend myself against him.”

“This guy already rubs me the wrong way,” Tony says with the hint of a growl in his voice and gives Peter a sympathetic look.

“I don’t want to defend myself against him,” Peter says and shakes his head slowly. “I could seriously hurt him, I don’t want that. But I’m so sick of him constantly mocking me for being poor and for being weak…”

“You’re probably the strongest kid I ever met,” Tony huffs, but not in a condescending way. “And just because he has money doesn’t mean he’s in any way better than you.”

“I know, but he’s not the one who has to go to school carrying his books on Monday…”

“And you won’t be either,” Tony says, smirking slightly. “I’m sick of this little brat constantly picking on you and I’ll make sure that, if he wants to keep doing this, he will have to go through me first. And trust me, he won’t even dare to try.”

“W-What do you mean?” Peter asks confused, finally looking up again.

“Wait and see,” Tony smirks and grabs another piece of pizza from the box. “Tonight, you’ll eat and get to bed soon because we have a lot to do tomorrow and I need you to be fully awake, alright?”

“Okay, yeah,” Peter says dumbfounded and finally gets something to eat too. “I… I’ll do that, sir.”

-----

The next day is one that Peter will not forget anytime soon. Tony wakes him early so they can have breakfast and then takes him to a huge shopping mall - not one of those Peter has ever been to though, oh no. This one only has the best of the best and Peter’s eyes nearly fall out when the car stops and Tony tells him they arrived.

Peter protests, for minutes, but Tony doesn’t give in. He shoos the boy out of the car, tells Happy to pick them up again in a few hours, and that’s it.

“I want you to listen closely now, Peter,” Tony says before they walk into the mall, a hand on the boy’s shoulder to keep him in place. “You can buy anything you want today, okay? And when I say anything, I mean anything. I don’t want you to look at the prices, I want you to take things you like and that you want.”

“B-But, sir! I can’t do that! You… you can’t -”

“I can and I will,” Tony says firmly, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “If I can’t use my money for the right thing, then what is it good for? And you are definitely the right thing, so stop worrying for once. For me, okay?”

Peter looks like he wants to argue again, but he doesn’t. Instead, his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink and he nods, relaxing slightly under Tony’s touch.

“O-Okay, sir,” he mumbles awkwardly. “I’ll try.”

“Very good,” Tony smiles and wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulder, pulling him closer to himself as they walk inside. “Now, let’s go shopping.”

And shopping they do. At first, Peter is extremely hesitant, barely able to look at the clothes he walks past. That’s when Tony starts picking out things to show him, so ridiculous that it only takes a few minutes before the boy bursts out into laughter and begs him to stop. After that, Tony tells him to pick something else and Peter actually does.

They spend an hour in the first store alone and walk out with five bags full of clothes. Tony doesn’t plan to carry them, however. Instead, he instructs one of the employees to take care of them so they can be loaded into the car when they are done, not without a good tip, of course. Then, he takes Peter to buy new shoes, because the ones he is wearing need to be replaced urgently. After another half hour they deposit the boxes with new shoes the same way as the clothes they bought before and head to the top of the building. For dinner, Tony says.

By now, Peter is luckily at ease enough to not ask if they can just eat at a fastfood restaurant instead, which kind of amuses Tony. They have a lovely dinner with lots of laughter when Peter tries one of the oysters Tony ordered, calling them slimy little bastards. It’s nice, it really is, especially with Peter finally being comfortable enough to not look at the prices anymore and just picking what he wants to eat.

Once they have satisfied their hunger, Tony takes Peter to the rooftop terrace so they can catch some fresh air, which really seems to be something the boy enjoys. He smiles so brightly when he looks over the city. Tony can’t help but look at him and his almost sparkling eyes, filled with more joy than he has seen in a long time. God knows the kid deserves it.

“Anything else you need to really rub it into Flash’s face?” Tony asks teasingly, earning a chuckle from Peter.

“I bet he’d turn green from envy if I had a Ferrari,” Peter grins and turns around, but his happiness immediately fades away when he sees the smirk on Tony’s face. “That was a joke! I… I don’t want a Ferrari!” he quickly says, shaking his head so hard Tony has to laugh.

“Well, if you change your mind, I can give you mine,” he shrugs, still smirking and leans against the rail. “Until then, how about we replace your backpack and get you a spare one just in case?”

At that, Peter smiles and nods happily. “Sounds like a good idea. And, thank you, sir, I mean it. You don’t have to do this, really.”

“Told you, I want to do it,” Tony shrugs and pushes himself off the rail, looking at him. “And besides, I have the mighty urge to know this brat loses control over his face when you walk into school on Monday.”

“That would be epic,” Peter grins and follows Tony back into the mall when he starts walking.

They manage to find a backpack similar to the one Peter had before, but more sturdy and with some extra pockets, and Tony insists they take three, so Peter can rotate them whenever he wants to. After Peter vehemently denies going to the hairdresser too, insisting that he likes his hair the way it is, they finally leave. Happy is already waiting and their purchases are packed into the trunk, seemingly without Tony ordering them to do it.

Peter feels like he’s in a fairytale when they get back into the car. This day has been one huge dream and he can’t stop smiling, no matter how hard he tries apparently.

They arrive back at the tower and Tony leads him back to the penthouse, leaving Happy in charge of Peter’s new belongings. They have coffee - Peter’s is almost white from how much cream he puts into it - and chat for a bit, before Tony excuses himself for a moment. When he comes back, he hands Peter a small box.

“What’s this?” the boy asks confused when he takes it, looking up.

“Something you might find useful,” Tony smiles and sits back down again, sipping on his coffee. “Go ahead, open it.”

Peter is hesitant but nods, turning his attention to the box. After carefully opening it, his eyes widen in shock. Inside is a watch, but not just any watch. It’s black, look extremely complex and elegant and has a small engraving that says ‘SI’.

“S-Sir, what…” Peter is so stunned, he barely finds the words to speak. “I can’t - this is too much...”

“Nothing is too much,” Tony says with a smile, taking the watch from the box. He presses a small button on the side and the display lights up. “Activate.”

Peter is completely confused at that, but when he suddenly hears a voice coming from the watch, he nearly falls back on his chair.

“Activated, sir.”

“K-Karen?” Peter gasps and stares at the watch, blinking surprised.

“Yes, Peter,” Karen says sweetly and Tony hands him the watch. Peter takes it as careful as a newborn baby and looks at it in awe. “How can I assist you today?”

“I can’t believe it…” he whispers quietly.

“Why don’t you put it on?” Tony suggests with a chuckle. “Once you have it on your wrist, there’s an option so only you can hear Karen. It also connects to your Stark phone for convenience. There are some extras like an infrared scanner, a tracker, a direct connection to your suit and to mine in case of an emergency and -”

Suddenly, Tony’s voice is cut off when Peter practically lunges across the table and wraps his arms around him, hugging him so tight Tony can’t even breathe for a moment.

“Thank you so much, sir! This is the best thing ever, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“It’s alright, kid,” Tony says and pats Peter’s back. He can’t help but smile at the reaction, it’s much more than he expected. “Take good care of it, okay? It’s a special edition just for you.”

“I will, I promise I will, sir!” Peter says and when he pulls back, he actually wipes his eyes. He still holds the watch and when he looks up at Tony, the man can see that he actually cried. “I love it so much, it’s perfect.”

“Glad you do,” Tony smiles and reaches over the table, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Just seeing your reaction is the best reason to give it to you. Plus, it should be practical.”

Peter nods and smiles shyly before putting the watch on. It looks amazing and so expensive, he can’t believe it. He knows Tony has a similar watch, just like he has a similar phone to the one he gave him. It means so much to him that Tony took the time and effort to make this for him and making sure it would be actually useful and not just look good.

The rest of the day, Tony spends by giving Peter a lesson in confidence, which really embarrasses the boy at first because he’s just not used to act the way he asks him to. Tony is patient with him and very reassuring, however, making it clear that this isn’t to change his character, but instead to appear more confident on the outside so he’s less of a bullying target. Peter promises to try, which he does, and at the end of the day, Tony is positive that the boy will be able to handle what’s going to come to him.

Sunday, they spend mostly talking and Tony gives Peter a few more tips on how to come back to Flash if he starts his crap again. Peter, in return, talks a bit more about how long this is going on already and about some other things Flash has done - or what Peter did sometimes - and Tony nearly cries from laughter when Peter tells him about the way he crashed Flash’s car.

When Peter leaves in the afternoon - Happy will take him home and help getting his new stuff over to May’s apartment - he is actually excited for Monday and hugs Tony tight again. He promises to let him know how things go and Tony smiles cheekily.

“Can’t wait to hear,” he says and laughs, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “Show him to not mess with you, kid.”

“I will, promised!” Peter smiles and suddenly steps on his toes and presses a kiss onto Tony’s cheek. “I’ll call you after school! Bye, sir!”

Tony’s mouth is dry and he just nods, watching the boy run into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, one of his hands comes up and presses against his cheek, his eyes still fixed onto the spot where Peter just disappeared. He can feel that his face is hot against his palm, he’s blushing, and he doesn’t know why he suddenly has this tightness in his chest. Did Peter just… kiss him? Did this really happen?

It’s five minutes before Tony is able to move again and when he can, he shakes his head slowly, letting out a chuckle.

“Oh, Pete,” he sighs with a fond smile on his lips and turns around to keep going on with his day, fully knowing that his thoughts will revolve around this soft feeling of Peter’s lips against his cheek for a long time. “You really are the sweetest boy in the world. I hope you never change, you’re perfect just the way you are…”

[pennywaltzy]

number 10, please?

And another Sebolly fic update for @strangelock221b !

The Head Knows What The Heart Wants - After the revelation that there had been some plotting between Moriarty and Eurus before his death, Sebastian Moran had decided to do whatever it took to keep Molly safe...even if that meant ruining whatever the results of his ex-lover's collusion with the Holmes sister were. But after enough time had gone by, things changed, and that was when Eurus decided to strike. That was when Sebastian couldn't deny the truth any longer: Molly Hooper had become the most important person in his life...and he would do whatever it took to make sure she was safe.

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 5 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME? | BUY ME A KOFI?

She didn’t seem to pay very much attention as to where they headed; once they boarded a plane she said she knew they’d be a ways away from London because he wouldn’t take her to someplace as close as Ireland or Wales by plane. She figured they were heading out towards the States, and that was enough for him, especially as she was still drowsy from the pain medication she had been given. It was uncomfortable to sit on her arse but he knew it could have been worse, and the knowledge was enough to make her as comfortable as possible.

Not that it mattered if she knew where they were going or not; New York City was one of the largest cities in the world and certainly one of the most populated, so if she knew where they were there was still so many places they could get lost. He’d had a few places in his name but this particular place, a penthouse in one of the most exclusive buildings in New York, was the only one he’d really kept in good repair and paid a pretty penny for. Jim had taken one look at the place and given it a flat no but he’d been enamoured and paid for it out of his own funds.

He managed to get Molly and Toby, who had been in the car in London along with the things they needed, into a cab and then headed uptown to Manhattan. His penthouse had a nice view of Central Park so at least if they were stuck inside the view would be nice. He’d wanted to bring her there on holiday at one point but it looked like, as usual, his plans were subject to change.

She woke up as he was paying their driver, and she looked around. “New York?” she asked before yawning.

He nodded. “Manhattan,” he said, finishing up and reaching for the carrier between them. “I’ll get Toby out and then get the door for you. We can have the doorman bring up the rest of the stuff.”

“Doorman?” she asked.

“You have a place like this in the city, you get a doorman,” he said with a grin. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all if he could surprise her. “I made a pretty penny at my old job.”

“I can see that,” she said, turning to look out her window at the building. He got the cat out and then walked around the cab to the pavement and set the carrier down to help Molly out. The tip must have been nice enough because the driver was already out getting the bags from the back and handing them off to the doorman, who nodded at Moran and Molly.

Molly got out gingerly and he turned to the doorman. “I can handle those, Eric,” he said.

The doorman nodded. “Very good, Mr. O’Callahan. Will you be needing anything?”

“Cancel the maid service until I go back home,” he said. “We can handle any cleaning that needs to be done. Is the refrigerator stocked?”

“Yes sir,” Eric said.

“Good.” He pulled out his wallet and peeled off some twenty dollar bills and gave them to Eric. Eric grinned and pocketed the tip before carrying the bags into what looked like a private elevator. Wallet still out, he pulled out a card and slipped it into a slot on the wall, and the elevator doors opened. “Private elevator,” he said to Molly.

“Seb, how much money do you have, exactly?” she asked.

“More than Mycroft,” he said.

“Then why do you have the flat in London?” she asked once they were in the elevator.

“Because most of it is tied up in investments,” he said. “I don’t generally touch more than what I need, and I try and put the rest into making up for things. This is about the most extravagant thing I’ve allowed myself to keep.”

“Ah,” she said with a frown. “I just...we said no more lies.”

“No lie, love,” he said. “I would have told you before we began to live together and especially if it had moved into more,” he said. “I wanted to bring you here for New Year’s. It had been one of my planned gifts.”

“Oh,” she said, looking a bit more mollified. He pressed the button for the penthouse suite and the elevator went up as he pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “Considering Jim wore Westwood on a regular basis, I should have expected you’d be wealthy as well.”

“He tended to spend lavishly. I saved and invested,” he said. “We both came from poverty, but I learned some valuable lessons from my mam about making things stretch.”

“Your mam?” she asked.

“My grandmum,” he said. “I think you would have liked her. I know she certainly would have liked you. How do you think I learned to cook so well?”

She smiled into his chest and tightened her hold on him. “Well, I’m sure she could have taught me a few things. Guess you’ll have to do it instead.”

“Guess I will.”

[welcometothepenumbra]

JUNO STEEL AND THE DRAGON’S DEN (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you'll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

The Proctor’s final words have haunted Detective Steel ever since she died on her devious riddle. “A place of heroes, as far as the stars but as close as the heart of every child.” And apparently, the home of Ramses O’Flaherty, in some way. But where is that home, you ask? Well, Detective Steel is just about to find out. It’s unfortunate that he didn’t do earlier – if he had, perhaps nobody would have had to die.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Dragon’s Den.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): An election makes a lot of noise – and, after months of the rallies and speeches and the fights in the street, it’s nice to escape to the quiet of the Martian desert for a while. Because the history of politics in Hyperion City is loud: a bunch of corporations in a bidding war over the Mayor’s office, with enough money changing hands that it’s not a question of whether your candidate’s in some big corporation’s pocket, just – whether this pocket is cozier than the last one.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and I never thought I’d be helping one of those corporations’ candidates win, but… Ramses O’Flaherty seems like the first politician in a century who might care about people more than profit margins.

And even if he is funded by Northstar Entertainment, a company that mostly sells kids’ movies and cheap T-shirts? Compared to his competition, Ramses sounds like a saint.

VOICE (FROM RADIO): In a move that analysts have been calling “inevitable,” Nadia Bellevue announced this morning that she will be dropping out of the Hyperion City mayoral race, citing poor polls and a drop in Armada Firearms and Fine Liquors’ stock price over the last fiscal quarter. That leaves only Ramses O’Flaherty and current mayor Pilot Pereyra on the ballot when the citizens of Hyperion vote just five weeks from today. Mayor Pereyra had this to say about their opponent:

PILOT PEREYRA (FROM RADIO): Ramses who? (LAUGHS) Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard of Ramses. And I mean, he seems like a good guy. You don’t get as far as he has, doing all that philanthropy, and kids’ movies, and whatever without having some good rub off on you. And I respect that, to a point.

RITA: Ooooooh, Mista Steel, are we there yet? I can’t wait another second!

JUNO: Shh! I’m tryin’ to listen!

MUSIC: ENDS.

PEREYRA: But the fact is that Hyperion’s a tough town, and it needs a firm hand. And all this junk I keep hearing about police reform, criminal rehabilitation? We don’t have time for that. In a city this covered in crime, we need the HCPD more than ever, and we need someone who knows what they’re doing more than ever. So, leave it to the Pilot, eh? I’ve gotten us this far, haven’t I?

RITA: Mista Steeeeel? Are we there yet? Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet—

PEREYRA (IN BACKGROUND): And let me tell you, guys like Ramses… they think they know everything.

JUNO: How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I don’t even know where we’re going!

PEREYRA (IN BACKGROUND): But as soon as it gets time to actually do something?

RITA: Oh come on, that riddle was so easy, boss! You gotta know!

PEREYRA (IN BACKGROUND): All that talk shows exactly what it was: just talk.

JUNO: Hey, driver? Just turn the damn radio off. My secretary’s decided she’s all the audio entertainment I need.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

Why did you come along, again? You have the day off, Rita.

RITA: And that’s why I came! You’d understand if you’d solved the riddle, boss. It’s so easy: “A place in the heart of every child”? You don’t have to be a detective to solve that.

JUNO: Brain’s full of about six hundred other mysteries, Rita. Who’s tryin’ to kill off Ramses O’Flaherty, for example. So just knock it off, and tell me where—

RITA: Nuh-uh-uh, no way, boss. I ain’t tellin’ you until you figure it out yourself– WHOAMYGOD WE’RE ALMOST THERE!

JUNO: Just tell me where we’re going!

RITA: I can’t take another second boss I feel like I’m gonna burst! Just figure it out already!

JUNO: Is that a gate?

RITA: C’mon, I’m gonna EXPLODE! Pleaeaeaeaease?

JUNO: “Northstar presents”– what the hell?

RITA: It’s Polaris Park boss! Oh gosh oh gosh I can’t wait! I’m so excited!!!

JUNO: Polaris… that Northstar amusement park?

RITA: Mista Steel, you gotta be kiddin’ me! Did someone kill all’a the magic inside’a you or somethin’?

JUNO: Yes.

RITA: Polaris Park! The Place That Fun Calls Home, TM! You gotta know about Polaris Park!

JUNO: I try not to pay too much attention to Northstar movies, Rita.

RITA: Act tough all you want, boss; they might be kids’ stories, but they got all kinds’a things for adults, like jokes, and deep themes, and sometimes advice, like how to kill an evil goat-wizard if you meet one and—

JUNO: Not kids’ stories. Just Northstar. (SIGHS) Let’s get this over with.

RITA: Boss? Is everything—

SOUND: CAR DOOR OPENS. CARNIVAL NOISES IN BACKGROUND.

(GASPS) We’re here we’re here we’re here we’re here!!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Polaris Park was, I’ll admit, a masterpiece. The greatest minds in the solar system had come together to build ‘The Place That Fun Calls Home, TM,’ and the faces of the people we passed said they’d succeeded. They were smiling, every one of them, kids clambering all over their parents with sticky fingers and… stickier voices.

It made my stomach turn. Places like this have always given me the creeps. What people forget is that manipulation is always manipulation, whether you’re being duped into a big debt or a big smile.

RITA: Oh, oh! There’s Orion’s Tower, they sell all kinds’a belts, Mista Steel – also insurance for some reason – and that ride is the Frozen Spinner, they make you put on real mittens before you get on and everything, and that’s—

JUNO (NARRATOR): We walked down the park’s main drag, surrounded on all sides by bright buildings and cartoon robots and foot-long ice cream bars. I was ready to go home by the fourth step in.

That wasn’t on the menu, though. Before we left the parking lot, our driver gave me an entry pass and a letter which said, in Ramses’ rushed handwriting: “Keep an eye out for Lorenzo Vega.”

Whoever the hell that was. Thanks a lot, O’Flaherty. Just tryin’ to save your life over here, no big deal, really.

RITA: I wanna go on a ride! No! I wanna have a hot dog! No! I wanna go on two rides, and have two hot dogs, just for me!

JUNO: Rita, we’re here to work.

RITA: Come ooooooooon, boss! What job could you possibly have to do here?

JUNO: That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Ramses gets a lot of his campaign funds from Northstar. If someone wanted to really hit him where it hurts, they could try to strike here… or dig up some dirt here, at least. Security Office might not be a bad place to start.

RITA: Well… if Ramses sent you here, that must mean security ain’t caught ‘em yet, whoever they are. We probably won’t find anything there.

JUNO: Not a bad point. Might be worth snooping around a little on our own first.

RITA: And while we’re at it, I was just thinkin’… a good place to snoop… might be… on… a ride?

JUNO: You’re really not gonna drop this, are you?

RITA: Never.

JUNO: Alright, alright. One ride. Then we get to work—

RITA: Got it Mista Steel okay thanks byeeeeeee!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO: Rita! …Lousy theme park. Lousy rides…

JUNO (NARRATOR): At the end of the street stood a mountain. A big, red, craggy thing with molten lava holograms flowing down its sides. It was the centerpiece of Polaris Park, and everyone on Mars knew what it was called.

RITA: Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak.

Mista Steel, I’m gonna ride that ride six hundred times today.

JUNO: Good luck with that. Sign over here says it’s closed for repairs.

RITA: What over what says it’s WHAT?!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me, it can’t be closed! Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak is the whole reason to go to Polaris Park! It’s got everything, Mista Steel, music and big drops and real fast and everyone’s favorite chainmail warrior Andromeda and—

SOUND: CROWD SCREAMS.

JUNO: That’s coming from the Dragon’s Peak, isn’t it?

RITA: Y– yeah. But maybe, it– maybe it’s just some people havin’ fun, y’know? Screamin’ on the rollercoaster and—

SOUND: SEVERAL SETS OF RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 1: Oh God, it’s horrible, it’s horrible! They’re all dead!

JUNO: Sounds real fun. Rita?

RITA: I’m comin’, boss!

JUNO (NARRATOR): I shoved us through the crowd, up the long line to the Dragon’s Peak, until it all stopped at a wall of security two guards thick. The park cops had big grins across their faces, but the smiles were all a little too uniform and a little too green to be real. Whatever they were keeping us from wasn’t gonna be pretty.

VOICE 2: I’m so sorry, sir, but you can’t come through here.

JUNO: Pretty sure I could if you’d get that club out of my gut.

RITA: Mista Steel…

VOICE 2: No, I mean, um… visitors do not have access—

JUNO: I work for your boss. Let me through.

VOICE 2: I’m… fairly certain that I work for my boss?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 3: Is there a problem over here?

VOICE 2: Uhhh… I… uhhhhh…

JUNO: No problem, I was just giving Officer Dental-Plan over here some orders from the top. Who are you?

VOICE 3: The top.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The woman in front of me was equal parts strong jaw, sharp eyes, and grit. Her badge said ‘Chief of Security,’ her eyes said that she didn’t have time for this, and her smile said that Northstar customer service training really was the best on Mars. The only times people smile that genuinely at me are right before they hit me.

But she didn’t. Instead she turned to her toadie and asked:

VOICE 3: Who is this guy and why isn’t he out of my park yet?

JUNO: Ramses O’Flaherty sent me. I have a hall pass, I promise.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

VOICE 3: Ramses?

(SIGHS) Of course he did. Let him through, Rick.

VOICE 2 (RICK): But—

VOICE 3: Did I ask?

RICK: Of… course not.

Have a fun-filled day.

JUNO: You don’t sound so happy to see us, Chief.

VOICE 3: Simple reason for that. I’m not.

My name’s Yasmin Swift. I’m chief of security here at Polaris Park.

JUNO: Juno Steel. And this is my secretary, Rita—

RITA: (HIGH-PITCHED GASPING)

JUNO: Who’s… maybe… deflating?

RITA: Why, hello there, Ms. Swift. I like coffee, and squid cream.

JUNO: Rita, what the hell—?

VOICE 3 (YASMIN SWIFT): Breakfast, huh? I’m more of a dinner gal myself.

RITA: (GIGGLING) Oh, Yasmin!

SWIFT: I’m sorry to rain on your day at the park, but, Ramses had pretty bad timing, sending you here this morning. We’ve had a little bit of an… accident. Come on, I’ll show you.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

RITA: (GIGGLING)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: …Rita? …What was that?

RITA: She’s preeeeeetty.

JUNO: (SIGHS) I don’t have time for this. I do not have time for this. Come on.

RITA: (GIGGLING)

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES. CARNIVAL NOISES FADE.

JUNO: (SNIFFS) The hell is that smell? I thought all the food carts were back on the main path, but… it smells like jerky or something in here.

SWIFT: Yeah, about that. If you’re at all squeamish, I’m gonna recommend you close your eyes now.

JUNO: Oh, no.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

RITA: OH MY GOSH, THOSE POOR PEOPLE GOT COOKED!

JUNO (NARRATOR): We found them in the loading area for the ride, sitting in a cart on a track facing a dark tunnel. The cart was looking nice and toasted around the edges, and inside it sat three charbroiled shapes that probably used to be people.

SWIFT: I’m guessing this isn’t how you expected to spend your day.

JUNO: I generally try to assume the worst, but somehow the galaxy keeps finding ways to surprise me.

RITA: Who are those people? We gotta help ‘em, don’t we?

SWIFT: That’s sweet, doll, but I think they’re a little past help. This was bound to happen one day. I’ve been saying that to Vega for years.

RITA: Oh, it’s just too horrible! Somebody hold me!

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: (MUTTERING) Not you, boss!

JUNO: Bound to happen, you said?

SWIFT: You know anything about this ride, Juno?

RITA: No, he doesn’t. Mista Steel said all the magic’s dead inside of him.

JUNO: Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak is a roller coaster that tells a story about Chainmail Warrior Andromeda trying to find her way home through Lion Village, has to go through Draco’s mountain for some reason, almost gets roasted, doesn’t end up going home. Just like all her other stories.

RITA: Wha—? But you said– you didn’t know anything about it—

JUNO: I said I didn’t want to know anything about Northstar’s junk. But sometimes not wanting to listen to stuff just makes you listen harder. No offense, Swift.

SWIFT: Hey, to each their own. We don’t all have to enjoy the story, even if it is a modern classic and you’re a moron for not liking it. Want to take a guess where the barbecue went down? Because I have a theory or two.

JUNO: I’m guessing the part where Andromeda gets almost-roasted dropped a word.

SWIFT: The ride’s needed repairs for years, if you ask me. The carts on this thing barely outpace the fire by half a second. All it’d take is for one of the brakes to flip early and, boom. Instant fricassee.

JUNO: Why was anyone on it if the ride was closed, though?

SWIFT: One of the carts started acting up yesterday, so I shut the whole thing down this morning, sent the engineers in, and then… this happened. On their test ride, I’d guess. With a bunch of guests watching from the line, too.

RITA: There are people who get to test roller coasters for their jobs?! Lucky!

JUNO: Rita, are we even looking at the same crime scene right now?

SWIFT: Crime scene? Honestly, Juno, negligence is the only crime I’m seeing here. (SIGHS) Why don’t you take in the park for a little while and I’ll find you later? HQ’s gonna have me behind red tape for a long time. They didn’t like me shutting down the ride for a few hours this morning, and I doubt they’ll like closing it for good.

RITA: You’re closing the Dragon’s Peak?! You can’t do that! That’s the reason everyone comes to Polaris Park! And also I never got to ride it!

SWIFT: Security’s got to be my number one concern, doll. Should’ve shut this ride down years ago.

SOUND: MECHANICAL, RHYTHMIC NOISES.

VOICE 4: Over my soggy corpse, Yasmin.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was a man walking toward us on two metal legs ending in rusty boots, and his nametag said “Doctor Lorenzo Vega, Head of Resmirks and Developgrins.” Despite the title, he looked like he hadn’t smiled in about a century: age and anger had carved deep enough wrinkles into his face that I could barely make out his eyes, but from what I could see they looked about as greasy and mean as the rest of him.

VOICE 4 (LORENZO VEGA): Yasmin. I see your attempted murder continues apace.

RITA: Murder?! Not my Yasmin!

SWIFT: He doesn’t mean the engineers, doll.

VEGA: I don’t. If anyone mourns my staff it will be their own fault for leaving someone behind to mourn them. Marriage, children, friends… the Northstar work ethic has rotted off the bone. No, it’s not my staff I’m concerned about. Sir, I’d like you to arrest this woman, for the attempted murder of Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak.

JUNO: That’s, uh… He knows you can’t murder something that’s not alive, right?

VEGA: For all of Polaris Park, then.

JUNO: Yeah, also, not alive. You… a little confused, doctor?

VEGA: Perhaps not murder, in that case. But much is on the line here, detective. My life’s work, and probably someone else’s, somewhere, if you care about that kind of thing. This park won’t last a month without that ride.

SWIFT: Maybe so, doctor, but the park doesn’t stand much of a chance if its star attraction’s deep-frying guests, either.

VEGA: You’d best zip up your ego, Yasmin. Your ignorance is showing.

JUNO & RITA: (IN UNISON) Eww.

VEGA: The Dragon’s Peak could not have burned my engineers for one very simple reason: there is no fire on this ride.

SWIFT: I hope you’ll give Dr. Vega the benefit of the doubt here, Juno. This might not be very Northstar behavior he’s demonstrating, but he’s a good guy at heart. Probably. If you’re willing to dig down a few hundred meters.

VEGA: Attempting to turn them against me. It won’t work for two reasons, Yasmin. First: I am naturally charismatic, and second: Ramses sent these two for me.

JUNO: Ramse– what?

VEGA: I received the message earlier – direct orders that I’d receive a private investigator to do whatever I say for one full day. Ramses spoils me so. Now tell me: what is your name?

JUNO: You expect me to buy that Ramses gave me to you without even telling you my name?

VEGA: I don’t need you to buy it, detective. Only lease it. (CHUCKLES)

JUNO: What the hell are you even saying?

SWIFT: Look, do you have those orders on you, Vega?

VEGA: Of course not. Do you carry all of your mail everywhere you go?

RITA: I mean, it should all fit on your comms pretty easily—

JUNO: —yeah, Swift, he actually has a pretty good point.

RITA: Oh. Nevermind. Forgot who he was talkin’ to.

VEGA: These deaths cannot have been caused by a malfunction, because the Dragon’s Peak couldn’t burn a fly, and I should know: I built it. Sabotage, detective. This must be sabotage. And you are going to prove it.

JUNO: Sabotage… that’s a pretty serious claim. Should be worth looking into, Swift.

RITA: Really, boss?

SWIFT: Worth looking into? We’ll see about that. Hey, doctor? Can you prove the ride doesn’t generate real fire? Do you have the plans anywhere?

VEGA: Of course I do. And it’s written into the most reliable storage available to humankind.

RITA: Oh, I always wanted to see the plans to the ride! Might be some nice readin’ for bedtime or snacktime or—

VEGA: My cranial fluid.

RITA: Actually nevermind, not gonna take that anywhere near my bed or snacks.

VEGA: I have the plans memorized. In here, no prying eyes can see them.

SWIFT: Welcome to our argument for the past two years, Juno. I say this is a deathtrap; Vega says it isn’t. I try to close it down; Vega tattles to the managers of Polaris Park, they have a tantrum about ticket sales, and then the thing’s back on its rails again. This could’ve been avoided. It could’ve been avoided twenty times over.

JUNO: But, I mean… come on, doc. You can’t really expect us to just take your word for it, right?

VEGA: I can expect that, actually… but I’m beginning to suspect I’ll be disappointed if I do.

(GRUNTS) There’s one other place I stored the plans for the ride: in its brain. Follow me.

SOUND: MECHANICAL STEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Vega led us over to a monitor on a stand overlooking the ride’s track. He flicked the monitor awake, tapped out a hundred-digit password in a second and a half, and we were in.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

VEGA: The full ride is too complicated for any human mind other than my own to control it, so I designed it to handle all its own functions. Completely automated. The computer has uplinks throughout the track that my engineers can use to access and interact with all data gathered while the ride runs: power levels, terminal activation logs, security feeds of every room, roaming snack bar—

JUNO: Wait, wait, hang on. What? You have security footage for every room in this ride?

SWIFT: Yeah, doctor. This is the first I’m hearing of it, too.

VEGA: The security footage wouldn’t be very secure if I gave it out to every Tom, Dick, and Yasmin who asked for it.

SWIFT: I’m your Chief of Security!

VEGA: Then I’m sure I told you at some point. I don’t bother remembering details like that.

SWIFT: If I knew that, do you really think I’d have waited this long to shut down your stupid ride?

JUNO: Just bring up the footage already, doc. If you’re so sure the ride’s innocent, your video should prove it.

VEGA: (SIGHS)

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

I’ll have you know that the last time someone ordered me around like that, they died.

RITA: You– killed someone?!

VEGA: Of course not. The two events were unrelated. It just means I have terrible associations with being told what to do that you should be sensitive to.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP.

What? The footage!

SWIFT: What is it now?

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

VEGA: The data! It’s– it’s disappearing!

JUNO: Disappearing?

SOUND: MORE BEEPS.

VEGA: Self-deleting! This is impossible! My baby! My giant, metal, highly-intelligent baby!

JUNO: How long has this been going on?

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

VEGA: How should I know? I don’t check! If it’s flawless, there’s no point in checking, because there are no flaws to check for!

SWIFT: Well, what do you call this, then?

SOUND: BEEP.

RITA: It looks like it just ate another video.

SOUND: BEEP.

And that musta been dessert.

VEGA: It’s gone. The schematics, all the footage from the past ride, and assorted footage from the past week. Gone.

SWIFT: Deleted? And you didn’t even do anything?

VEGA: What do you think I was doing?

SWIFT: Deleting it, maybe. Covering your precious baby’s tracks.

VEGA: You—!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING. MACHINE POWERING DOWN.

JUNO: What are you doing now?

VEGA: Shutting down the ride.

There. Everything but the audio cues and lighting, off. And now, Detective Whoever-you-are, you’re going to go in there and figure out who’s harmed my creation. Who has attempted to murder Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak!

RITA: He… is?

VEGA: Ramses gave orders that you are do to whatever I say, didn’t he?

JUNO: I don’t know. Did he?

SWIFT: Hang on, doctor. If you think I’m going to let anyone run an investigation in my park without my say-so—

VEGA: Then you go with him. Someone has to take care of my ride. I don’t care who.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I remembered that letter that Ramses’s driver had given me: “Keep an eye out for Lorenzo Vega.”

If Ramses was suspicious of Vega, this might be the only chance I had to figure out why. Especially if he was trying to push the blame onto someone else.

SWIFT: I’m sure Detective Steel has better things to do than—

JUNO: I’ll go along. Rita, you stay out here and enjoy the park.

RITA: Nuh-uh, boss! If you think I’m lettin’ you take a behind-the-scenes tour without me, you’ve got another thing comin’!

JUNO: Rita—

RITA: No buts!

Now come on, Yaaaaasmiiiiin. Do you wanna show me all the spookiest parts of the ride?

SWIFT: If… that’s what we’re doing, I guess I don’t mind doing it with you.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

Y’know, you don’t have to hold my hand so tight, doll…

RITA: (GIGGLES) Yeah, I do.

SOUND: METAL STEPS.

VEGA: Just a minute before you go, detective.

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, you want me to keep an eye on her. I heard you the first time.

VEGA: It’s not that. What did she just call you? Detective Steel, was it?

JUNO: Juno Steel, private eye. Finding it kinda hard to believe Ramses didn’t tell you that.

VEGA: He did… it just didn’t sound familiar until I’d heard it.

JUNO: Y’don’t say.

VEGA: Steel… why does that sound familiar…?

JUNO: Uh… probably because you build your rides with it?

VEGA: No, no, that isn’t it. I was thinking about that name just this morning… but why?

JUNO: Okay, well, have fun figuring that out, doc. I’m gonna go get murdered by your ride now. Bye.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

VEGA: (DISTANT) Steel… hmmm… Juno Steel…

JUNO (NARRATOR): We walked along the tracks for a while because riding the cart seemed dangerous. After all, the last couple of people to do that were currently being scraped out of their seats with a spatula. After walking through the first tunnel, we found ourselves, weirdly, outside – in a big green plain, surrounded by stone huts and yawning lions lounging in the grass.

SOUND: DISTANT ROARS.

RITA: Oh my gosh, look at all this stuff! It’s gonna take forever to explore all this! Hold my hand, Yasmin, I’m worried I’m gonna get lost!

SWIFT: I’m already holding your hand.

SOUND: TRUMPET BLARING FROM SPEAKERS.

RITA: (GASPS) What was that?!

SWIFT: Just the ride going through its cycles. Vega said he left the audio on – he’ll take any chance to show off.

NARRATOR VOICE (OVER SPEAKERS): And so, after years of searching for a way back home to Polaris, Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior found herself in the Lion Village, where it was said a portal to her home opened once every thousand years.

SWIFT: If we want to get onto the main track without a cart, you’re going to need a retinal scan from a high-ranking employee. Just give me a second.

JUNO: Rita, what’s your read on Vega?

RITA: Huh? Oh, I ain’t barely read any of him, boss. I been a little distracted today. (GIGGLES)

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

JUNO: Yeah, I can tell. Come on, doesn’t it seem a little convenient to you?

RITA: Hmmm?

JUNO: Vega gets warned for years that someone’s gonna die on this ride; then, someone dies on this ride, and who does he send into the deathtrap but the people sent to watch him, and, the woman that’s been trying to shut him down for years? This is gonna be dangerous… whatever roasted those engineers could get us too, and with him at the controls, this one might not be an accident.

Rita, are you even listening?

RITA: I mean, yeah, it seems convenient, boss. But you’re the detective and this is my day off, so you figure it out, alright?

JUNO: (GROWLS)

SOUND: BEEP.

SWIFT: Alright, we’re in. Should be the last lock.

SOUND: MECHANICAL DOOR CREAKS OPEN.

NARRATOR: And so, after years of searching for a way back home to Polaris, Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior—

JUNO (NARRATOR): The door led us into one of the lion’s huts. The lion it belonged to was musclebound and gray-maned and sitting on his haunches next to everyone’s favorite chainmail warrior, Andromeda.

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —found herself in the Lion Village, where it was said a portal to her home opened once every thousand years.

RITA: (GASPS) Andromeda!

NARRATOR: “Andromeda!” said Leo, the lion-chief. “Our portal opens in one short hour, and then only for a few minutes. But if you want to use it, you will have to pay. On that peak lives the dragon, Draco, with all of his treasure. Bring me a treasure from Draco’s hoard, and you will have your way home!”

RITA: She’s real! I always knew she was real! Mom said, and Mista Steel said, and even I said sometimes – but I always knew, Andromeda was real, even when I knew that was impossible, and, and, and, and—

JUNO: Real, huh?

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BUZZING.

RITA: Oh. It’s a hologram. I knew that. Mostly.

SWIFT: Everything here’s a combination of robotics, practical effects, and holograms, doll. Here, touch Chief Leo if you want. A mechanical skeleton covered in real lion fur, grown in a real lab.

RITA: Wow, he’s so soft. Can we see him roar? And maybe pounce on Mista Steel?

SWIFT: You can’t turn on the robotics without turning on the carts, too: they run on the same power source.

JUNO: Sounds and lights on the same breaker? Robots and carts– this doesn’t exactly sound up to code.

RITA: I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, boss, that’s basically how I got the office hooked up.

SWIFT: I think being unsafe is part of the thrill for Vega. He’s good with holograms, but he doesn’t like them. He says they’re cheating. Anything safe is cheating with that guy.

Hope you’ve got hiking shoes on: this next part’s supposed to be the mountain, and the doctor went for authenticity.

SOUND: GATE CREAKS OPEN.

RITA: Ohh, it’s so dark and spooky in here – how do we know where to go?

SWIFT: I haven’t been on these tracks since my first trainings, but I’ve ridden it enough times to know the way. Just stick close to me, sweetheart, and you’ll be fine.

RITA: Hmmmmmmm.

NARRATOR: Andromeda said:

ANDROMEDA: You’re making a terrible mistake, Leo. Anger Draco, and all the lions will pay for it.

NARRATOR: But Chief Leo only laughed, and called her a fool. And so Andromeda climbed the mountain with a heavy heart.

JUNO: So what’s up with you and Vega, anyway? Hell of a feud the two of you got going on.

SWIFT: How do you mean?

JUNO: I know you’ve got safety reasons for wanting this tilt-a-whirl closed, but he seems to think it’s personal. Granted, he seems to think most things are personal, but still…

SWIFT: Just… different eras of Northstar butting heads. Call it a family squabble.

Vega’s old school – from back in the days when Northstar was just a little movie studio over in Hyperion City. Used to work on building fancy new cameras, now he works on ways to shoot people through a block of ice without hurting the ice. Back then, Northstar was cutthroat: scrappy little movie studio with scrappy little ideas. Great tech, great talent, but no investors. It meant everyone who worked there was… out for blood.

JUNO: And they had plenty of ways to get it, I hear.

SWIFT: Yeah, actually. How did you—

JUNO: —doesn’t matter. You said you’re different. What’s the new era of Northstar like?

RITA: Yeah, Yasmin! Tell us aaaaaall about you. Every teensy weensy little thing.

SWIFT: Either of you have any kids?

JUNO: Eugh.

RITA: No, but I’m… very suggestible.

SWIFT: Well, I do. A little lady, only five years old. Too young to remember the war. Too young to remember all the stuff humanity showed it could do to itself. And when I think about her growing up in a galaxy capable of all that… (SIGHS) Let me just put it this way: the old Northstar was all about making something great. But now? Most of us now… we just want to make something good. Something that the kids can look up to. Heroes that’ll risk it all for what actually matters… not some dumb new camera.

JUNO: You sound like Ramses now.

SWIFT: O’Flaherty might be an old-timer, but I always felt like he was one of us. (CHUCKLES) Call me a sap if you want, but… I think my Esta’s better off with Andromeda around. And I’d do anything for her.

RITA: That’s so beautiful and perfect.

SWIFT: Definitely makes getting up for work a little easier. It’s leaving her in the morning that’s the hard part.

(CLEARS THROAT) Uh, just be ready. Next part gets a little loud.

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES OPEN.

NARRATOR: Then, at long last, Andromeda arrived at the Dragon’s Peak!

SOUND: THUNDERCLAP, RAIN.

RITA: Ahh!! What was that?!

JUNO: It’s just the stupid ride.

SWIFT: The noise was, but… did either of you see that?

JUNO: See what?

SWIFT: In the lightning, that—

SOUND: THUNDER.

NARRATOR: Then, at long last—

SWIFT: There’s someone up by Draco’s lair!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —Andromeda arrived—

JUNO: What? I don’t see anything—

RITA: Yasmin, save me!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —at the Dragon’s Peak!

SWIFT: You two, keep up with me! If someone really is sabotaging my park, I’m not gonna let them get away with it!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Swift! Swift!!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): Then, at long last—

SOUND: THUNDER.

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): —Andromeda arrived at the Dragon’s Peak!

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, we get it! Come on, Rita, let’s go!

RITA: Okay, boss!

JUNO (NARRATOR): While we ran, I held onto Rita as best I could, but I couldn’t save her from her own clumsy feet…

RITA: Oh!

JUNO (NARRATOR): …or, uh, mine.

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: Get offa me, Mista Steel, get offa me! I wanted this day to go like this with someone but it sure ain’t you!

JUNO: Damn it, where did Swift go?

RITA: That’s what I said! She was followin’ the tracks, so hurry, boss, hurry!

JUNO & RITA: (PANTING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): So we ran up the rest of the way into the Dragon’s Peak. A set of big stone doors parted, and a set of big glowing eyes stared down at us.

SOUND: HEAVY SCRAPING.

NARRATOR: And there, in all his rage and glory, stood Draco, the mighty dragon!

RITA: OH NO OH NO! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME MISTA DRAGON DON’T KILL ME– oh hey would you look at that he listened.

JUNO: Huh. …He did.

SOUND: SLOW FOOTSTEPS.

RITA: Careful there, boss! You don’t know what that dragon might do! They’re tricky! Probably.

JUNO: They’re not real, Rita.

SOUND: ECHOEY CLANKS.

This is just another robot puppet, like the lion at the bottom of the hill. Deactivated like everything else. …It looks like the track hugs the wall for a while – come on. Swift can’t have gotten that far ahead yet.

SOUND: DEEP WHIRRING, MACHINE POWERING UP.

What the hell?

SOUND: METAL SQUEAKING.

MUSIC: STARTS.

RITA: M-m-mista Steel! The– the dragon, i-it’s—

JUNO: —moving, I can see that!

NARRATOR: Andromeda grabbed a sparkling crown as Draco unleashed its fiery breath!

SOUND: ROAR, FLAME CRACKLING.

RITA: Boss!! That’s SO much fire! And boy, is it hot!

JUNO: Step back! Hopefully that’ll be the last of—

JUNO & RITA: (YELP)

SOUND: ROAR.

RITA: Mista Steel! It’s coming closer!

JUNO: And faster than I’d like, too. Rita, there’s a control panel on the wall by the tracks. Do you think you could hack into it?

RITA: Okay, boss!

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

The password– I was watchin’ Dr. Vega’s hands when he was puttin’ the password in—

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

Oh no, oh no!

JUNO: Rita, we’re running out of time, here!

RITA: It’s like a billion-digit password, boss, you’re gonna have to buy me some time!

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I did what I do best: I bought time.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOTS. METAL CREAKING.

RITA: Did it work?

JUNO: Made its head snap back a little, but it’s coming back. It’s getting kinda warm in here, Rita!

RITA: You think I can’t feel that?!

SOUND: BEEPING. ERROR BEEP.

Arrrggghhh!

JUNO (NARRATOR): The fire was close. We were backed up onto the tracks, now, and I swore I could feel the huge workings of the mechanical dragon rumbling in the walls and the floor.

Or… was that the dragon?

SOUND: SUCCESS BEEP.

RITA: There! I got us into the terminal, boss.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And suddenly it hit me. I put my hand into the fire…

SOUND: ROAR, FLAMES CRACKLING.

RITA: Now I just gotta– Mista Steel, what are you doin’?! It’s gonna roast you alive!

JUNO (NARRATOR): But it didn’t. I was fine – the fire was just hot air and holograms. The rumbling, though… that got bigger. And then, I remembered what was on the same circuit as the robots.

SOUND: WHEELS CLACKING ON TRACKS.

JUNO: The cart.

RITA: The what?

Hey, let go’a me, you– oooooaaahh!

SOUND: THUD.

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: Ah!

SOUND: CLACKING GROWS LOUDER. DULL CRASH, CLACKING STOPS.

MUSIC: ENDS.

NARRATOR: And there, in all his rage and glory, stood Draco, the mighty dragon!

SOUND: RAIN.

RITA: That rollercoaster cart… almost splattered us, boss!

JUNO: Yeah. It got real close, didn’t it.

SOUND: ROAR.

NARRATOR: Andromeda grabbed a sparkling crown as Draco unleashed its fiery breath!

SOUND: CLACKING STARTS AGAIN, FADES OUT.

RITA: And now– it’s… gone.

JUNO: Sticks around just long enough for you to think you’ll get roasted, but there’s never any real danger.

It’s not fire. Just like Vega said.

RITA: But… then how did those engineers get all burnt up?

JUNO: I don’t know.

Rita, didn’t Vega say the computer kept a log of whoever accessed it last?

RITA: I think so.

JUNO: Check the log, then. Hurry!

RITA: Okay, okay, I don’t see what the rush is. First, I just gotta deactivate the carts…

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS. POWERING DOWN NOISE.

There. Now I’ll check the logs…

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

It… doesn’t say who used it, but… it says it was in the next room. D’you think it’s whoever Yasmin saw?!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Aaaaaaand that’s when I figured it out.

JUNO: Turn on the security footage for that room.

RITA: Mista Steel—

JUNO: Now, Rita!

RITA: Oh, alright, alright…

(GASPS) N– no… The one who activated the carts– was– Yasmin?!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Yasmin Swift. Security Chief of Polaris Park. The camera feed showed her inspecting the cart that failed to crush us, and I saw Draco’s controls up on the terminal in front of her. Vega was right. Swift had been briefed on the security footage before, and in fact, she knew how to use it better than he did. She proved that about two seconds later when she deactivated the camera we were watching her through.

SOUND: BEEP.

JUNO: What the…? Rita, bring it back!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

RITA: I’m tryin’, boss!

SOUND: BEEPS.

But… it’s just… deleted! Everything that camera’s recorded in the past twenty-four hours is gone!

JUNO: So we have no proof. Great.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

SWIFT: Oh…! You’re alright!

JUNO: You sound surprised.

SWIFT: Relieved is more like it. I’m glad you two are so hardy. Surviving what even our engineers couldn’t… I could’ve sworn you’d be charcoal briquettes by now.

RITA: Y-y-y– Yasmin…

MUSIC: STARTS.

SWIFT: What’s the matter, sweetheart? Aren’t you happy to see me?

JUNO (NARRATOR): If she knew we knew, she wasn’t saying a thing; and unfortunately, it was going to have to stay that way.

She knew this ride better than we did. If we let her run wild in here, I’m sure she’d know a hundred ways to roast us, crush us, and fun us straight into our graves. But we couldn’t take her into custody yet, either, because we didn’t have any evidence, and unless she slipped up right in front of us, we’d never get it.

So for now, the safest place was just where I didn’t want to be.

SWIFT: Did you see anyone come through here? I was chasing after someone, but they slipped away…

You two alright? You look a little pale.

JUNO: I’m ready to keep goin’ if you are.

RITA: What?!

JUNO: If you want to go back, Rita, I’ll bring you back first. But we still have a saboteur to catch. And I’m staying in here until I catch ‘em.

SWIFT: Like a dog with a bone, Juno. I like it. What do you say, doll? Coming with?

RITA: I– I…

Yeah. I’m n-not gonna leave you alone, Mista Steel. Not again.

SWIFT: Alright then. Let’s go, ladies.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Yasmin Swift had gotten me, with that strong jaw and that bright smile. It costs nearly twenty creds to get a bottle of water in this stupid theme park, but the smiles, they say, are always free.

Ma wouldn’t’ve agreed. Good old Sarah Steel always said that there was only one thing in life that came free – and that was death.

SWIFT: Keep your eyes peeled. We don’t want to let the murderer get away.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And from the look of things, the alternative was getting more expensive by the minute.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you've enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you'll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Kate Jones, Joshua Ilon, and Sarah Gazdowicz:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SARAH: …to be manipulative, but I don’t think that that is true. I think that she thinks Rita is very cute.

KATE: How—

SARAH: And—

KATE: —can you not?

SARAH: I don’t– I don’t know.

JOSHUA: You have to be around her all the time. [unintelligible mumbling – speak up, Joshua]

KATE: Alright.

JOSHUA: No that’s what we’ve seen! We’ve seen what overexposure to Rita does. That’s what this episode has shown us, more. It’s-it’s beginning– before and after. It’s ‘oh, that’s charming!’ and then, now ‘I can’t get rid of it.’

SARAH: No, but you couldn’t live without Rita.

JOSHUA: No, you couldn’t.

SARAH: You can’t. Rita’s one of a kind.

JOSHUA: Yeah. You can drown in too much water, though…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Lynné Herman, Gray, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Dragon’s Den, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Kate Jones as Rita, Sarah Gazdowicz as Yasmin Swift, Bob Mussett as Lorenzo Vega, Simon Moody as Mayor Pilot Pereyra, and M. Sutherland as the narrator.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I'm afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

[brooktrout96]

Cypress, Hemlock, Petunia, Pine

Chapter 4 of  Floriography

AO3 is here

Notes: 

Cypress: Death, Mourning, Despair Hemlock: You will be my death Petunia: Resentment, Anger, Your Presence Sooths Me Pine: Hope, Pity

Y/N, you’re injured!” Simon said as he took me in as I let out a laugh.

        Well Simon taken a bullet that would’ve killed or crippled my best friend will do that.” Simon frowned and sent me to Lucy

I don’t think I’ll be able to repair you, Y/N.” Lucy said as she looked at the bullet wound on my body. She at least cauterized the wound to stem the blue blood flow, so I wouldn't bleed out . I let out a sigh knowing what no whom I would have to pay a visit to, and it pissed me off that I have to do it.

        "Lucy, thanks but I have to go now.” I grabbed my jacket and threw it on as Lucy looked at me in concern

        "Where are you going?”

        "To meet our maker!” I yelled as I took off

~***~

        I arrived at a manor in the middle of nowhere. "I hope this is the right place.” I mumbled to myself as I shivered in the cold. I looked at the imposing house as I knocked on the door as a Chloe answered it before I could say anything to her, I collapsed to the ground from my injuries and the cold

~***~

        I awoke on a cold metal slab as a man looked at me with a smile on his face. "You are awake, RA900.” He said with a smile

        "Thank you for helping me. I don’t know if I would’ve survived.” I glanced around the room and survey it. It was full of things that would be used to repair androids

        "Stay awhile, Y/N. There is a major storm brewing in more ways than one. I don’t want Ra9 to die because she wasn’t smart about when she would travel back to Jericho.” I nodded to him

~***~

        Hank was on the phone and Connor got out of the car and went over to Hank. "Is everything ok, Lieutenant?” Connor asked as Hank looked up from his phone

        “Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants.... He said he was saved by Markus himself.... “

        “Is Chris ok?

        "Yeah, he's in shock but.... he’s alive.... What the hell....”

        Kamski left CyberLife ten years ago.... Why did you wanna meet him?” Hank shook his head as he replied

        "This guy created the first android to pass the Turing test. And he's the founder of CyberLife and Y/N was a gift to Miss. McKnight from him. Anybody can tell us about deviants, it's him….” He walked up to the door and knocked; it was answer by a Chloe

        "Hi.... Uh.... I'm, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I'm here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.” The Chloe gestured for the two to come in

        "Please, come in.”

        Okay.”

        "I'll let Elijah know you're here. But please, make yourself comfortable.” Chloe said with a smile as she led the two inside the house. She disappeared as Hank spoke

        "Nice girl.” Connor nodded

        "You're right.... she’s really pretty....” He said as he looked around the room

        "Nice place.... Guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everybody.... So, you're about to meet your maker, Connor. How does it feel?” Hank said as he glanced around the room taken it in

         "I don't know....” Connor paused as he thought of what to say to Hank. “I'll tell you when I see him.”

~***~

The Chloe returned to the pool room as Y/N watched her get Kamski attention. "Elijah, you have guests.” Y/N’s interests were peaked as Kamski swam to the edge of the pool that was closest to the Chloe

        "Who is it?” He asked

        "A Lieutenant Hank Anderson and an android by the name of Connor.” She said as Kamski nodded

        "Bring them to me.” He said as I began to panic trying to find a way out of this situation. Kamski turned and swam over to me

        "Y/N, everything will be alright. Nothing going to happen to you, I promise.” Kamski said to me as I took an unneeded breath of air

~***~

        "Elijah will see you now.” The Chloe said as sche reentered the room that the two were standing in, and she escorted them into another room. They entered a room with a red pool and two Chloe’s in the water and one out of the water. Connor saw an unknown android sitting in a chair as she chatted with one of the Chloe that was out of the water.

        "Mister Kamski?” Hank asked as Kamski swam to the exit of the pool

        "Just a moment, please.” Elijah got out of the pool as another Chloe dressed him in a black robe and he put his hair up in a messy man bun.

        "I'm Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor.” Hank introduced themselves as Kamski took the two in

        "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” He asked as he grinned

        Sir, we're investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but, I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know....” Hank explained their reasoning of finding him as Kamski grinned and said

        "Deviants.... Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.... Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable.... Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn't it ironic” Connor was getting pissed, well as pissed as an android could anyways?

         "We need to understand how androids become deviants. Do you know anything that could help us?” Kamski smiled as he looked at the duo with a smile on his face

        "All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics.... Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” He asked as he turned to give the unknown android a smile and then turned back to Connor and Hank

        "Listen!” Hank was getting fed up with Kamski and he was shaking his head. “I didn't come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way.

        "What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

        "I have no side. I was designed to stop Deviants, and that’s what I intend to do.” Kamski gave a chuckle as he said

        "Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say but you what do you really want?

        "What I want is not important.”

        "Y/N?” The unknown android stood up from her chair as she walked over to Kamski’s side. Hank and Connor were flabbergasted as they recognized the android finally from the flower shop case.

        "Hello Connor, Hank, I wish we would stop these meeting and things were different.” Y/N said as she looked into the two’s eyes and they were pleading

        “I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it "the Kamski test", it's very simple, you'll see....” He grabbed Y/N’s chin as he takes her in and she subtlety tried to move away from Kamski.

         “Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first models to gain emotions. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.... But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human. Or a living being?” Kamski walked to a drawer behind it and opened the drawer and pulled out a gun.

        “With a soul.” He turned to face the duo with the gun in his hand as Y/N went down to her knees for some reason that she couldn’t understand why.

        "Okay, I think we're done here. Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.” Hank tried to get Connor to move as Kamski got closer to Connor and he spoke to Connor

        "What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine.... Or a living being endowed with free will....”

        "That's enough! Connor, we're leaving.” Elijah handed the gun to Connor and pointed it right at Y/N’s forehead. She was trembling in fear as she stared into Connor’s chocolate brown eyes with a pleading look on her face

        "Pull the trigger.” Kamski said as Connor stared down at Y/N who had her eyes closed waiting for the shot to come as Hank attempted to stop Connor as Kamski attempted to goad him into shooting her

        "Connor, don't....”

        "And I'll tell you what you wanna know.” Connor paused and then handed the gun back to Kamski as Kamski had a smile on his face and helped Y/N up

        "Fascinating.... CyberLife's last chance to save humanity.... Is itself a deviant....” Connor shook his head as Kamski said this

        "I'm....I'm not a deviant....” Connor paused as Y/N spoke

        "Connor, you preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in me. You showed empathy. A war is coming.... you’ll have to choose your side.... Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils or should I say one evil and one right.” Connor turned to look at Hank as he gestured for Connor to follow him

        "Let's get outta here....” Hank left as Connor paused

        "By the way.... I always leave an emergency exit in my programs.... You never know....” Kamski said as Connor then walk back down to Hank’s car. Y/N turned to Kamski

        "What would you have done if he had shot me?” She asked him as he gave her one of his grinned.

        "I would have built you a new body. I mean it would’ve been the same design but newer parts.” Y/N sighed

        "That wasn’t the point that I was try to make Elijah.”

[z3i3ra]

Abu: she is. She is going to Iraq. Who does that?

Me: someone who really cares about you

Abu: oh someone that is going to save me from myself?!

Idk that i was ever askedto go as an adult before. I said it was time when Obama brought van loads to my actual fucking house. I still don't know,what the fuck he thought. I haven't fully processed the memories. But I was all, i think this is enough people for an army to fight back now let's go.

And he was all uhhh we aren't going back to Iraq we just got here

And me and Abu were all uh hello, yes because now it's time to start the war. Every One got energized to go home so now,we give them,weapons and,say kill or stay. And,let's go back home to our families!

Like literally that went back through my head twice.

But really I said I had to go get my daughter (who was home) and I was freaked the fuck out cause i had amnesia and so I was gonna go around to the back door and try to get back inside through the back door by getting my daughter to open it, as i had locked the front door on purpose.

I never told anyone, i think, that but it was quite a sight all those vans and all these military and some President Obama look alike.

My first instinct was to lock my door and close it. Having only a phone it was easy to text or call her.

But instead the President Obama was all uh no what you mean you locked your keys,in the door?

And he told me to,text her and i was all ok so i text "help me please, unlock the front door it's been all a mistake"

But i didn't send it. In my mind i was all text is like write. He said text but not send

I was on challenge to this dude "Hello i am the American President, is Sabrina home"

Uhh. No the President shoukd know 2 people live here and what we look like before he just shows up knocking. Nope noooope nope. I am not home. "Yes, how" door lock activated and first step outside the door "may i help you?" Door slams shut.

I mean he knew i hadn't sent it. Some dude with a laptop was right there and all. It was a literal on my porch war with the fucking President, in my mind, who was getting to,my daughter first.

"This is the stand off. Mr President, sir!!"

"Would you look at her, ready to attack me"

"Look here, her twin brother predicted it. She doesn't know you and You just arrived on her porch like a God send but she is looking at you like a wolf who has stolen her babies and instead to steal more"

If a war can be spoken with facial expressions, I won.

"Okay what else do i need to know"

"The name of the game is who can get in the house first. Ready set go!"

"Dont send the text message. What ever you do. I got everything under control here" dude had no clue, he was the enemy.

I already hit send as soon as,he said Go like,those Chinese crazy,games you gotta go through obstacle courses... Yeah I was already winning. I'm all getting cheers just at the very end, could i make it???

My breath is a fucking war. Obama is belting out commands but all i can hear is my own breathing but all i needed was the tiny rattle of the lock of the door knob.

I heard the dead bolt lock me out "SHIT!" Then it unlocked "OH MY GOD, YES!!" "Now one more please baby come on"

Obama turned to the laptop guy to see whst the Hell i was on about because Matt had said that was our only tool and brain and i was staring at my screen praying. "Idk sir, all I heard--"

"CHEATA!!" I flew past Obama and stood in front of the door that my daughter not only unlocked but also turned the knob to crack it open so i just had to push it all the way.

I covered the doorway by spreading my arms out "MINE"

"Its locked anyway" obama turned away, the boys heifted out the air conditioner at the same time. I spun all ballerina and shut the door and locked it, bent over at the window and said "hiiii" the military dude peeking in, fell into my house onto the floor cause i had him straight fucked up.

"Could you put the air conditioner back in please?"

The bewildered Military dude, secret service was all "if you tell me how you did that"

"Mothers instinct, maybe"

"Well, I'll put it back in anyway"

"But could you do it from the outside? I want to see if you could. Thank you"

He obliged and i locked myself in the house. Until they called Matt and asked how to get me out to talk. He said "call her cell phone"

So they did and i saw Obama out the window. "Stand on one leg" i said while unlocking the door as silent as possible (I randomly practice) "like a flamingo"

"Is this how a flamingo stands? His head turned away from my house, so i slipped out and held the door knob behind me,not all the way closed but it looked like it.. But I could push it back in and escape.

Secret service turned around in shock "how did she...."

I won. When you surprise secret service at least 2x in less than 10 minutes... You win. Especially when everyone on the porch's jaw drops open.

"5 out of 5. I guess i won this place. Yall can close your mouths now"

Obama does not like to lose. I think especially to a girl.

"Oh you'll get used to it. Watxh the video"

So they watched the video and all and the most shocked secret service had figured out how i knew when to go in but said it wss all shocking the same. The other one doing the heavy lifting hadn't noticed anything.

And Obama was so mad

"And yes Obama that was the flamingo"

"Alright, I'm done here, let's go. We will talk to the coty and see if they can stay here and we will get something sanctioned. Come on Abu, lets get you to a hotel"

"Uhm, really?!!? But no i want to know why first or i let them out the van and the first one that dies is you" replied an ecstatic Abu.

"I know I'm not about to die I tell you what" I muttered under my breath "and there's just two of us here and one is a kid"

"No, i want to know we will be free and you will not send us back to Iraq. Then, i will go with you"

"Oh Abu that paperwork is already being processed"

I still didn't know whst was going on but this dude all up on the President with a heavy accent all 'bitch i aint doing shit, yo' i was all dam that was way sexier than I ever expected to see on the porch of my house.

My face was on a new war, winning this young stud. I don't know who could tell but i think he could.

The observant secret service said for me not to continue to drool but I was all okay I'll stare dreamily. Total sexual harassment out my face. And Abu was not going to resist apprehension. And his pants were becoming to small at the waist.

So all these secret services and the President all just sat there and watched the young stud gain a boner and i heard the front door open.

I threw the white flag, my kid didn't need to see that. Oh but Abu was not done with the war, being at the far end of the porch, furthest away from me, he threw jealousy down.

Now Today 10 and half years later he doesnt bother to open any door to his house for me.

Anyways. So Jeremiah had agreed the year before that if i could outwit the secret service somehow in under 25 minutes then every one could be set free. But it had ti be the secret service and it had to be 21-24 minutes for everyone in Iraq and for everyone in the vans. At 25 minutes, no one. And under 21 minutes anyone already set free including the vans.

1400 had already been released on escaping terms and 5000 remained in the cells.

I had to beat amnesia to get the rest out. At least 3 pregnancies and finding my mom at her location.

So I did it.

All those greedy selfish people i had to yell at at the NHRA. I had to. I worked every single day. Every single day to repair my brain 99% on my own. It had to be 85% not including legal drugs.

Even the Queen agreed but stated she must be dead before any press releases could be stated about her involvement. And i had to pick her successor.

So yay!!! I did it under 12 years.

But also I wish I could done it sooner.

I fought every single day.

Every single day. My mind wss on my mind.

No matter what it took. I always felt that. It was the most important thing in the world. An urgency that took over my entire being.

God gave me great pain so i was unable,to leave my bed so i could focus and break all barriers and do it even without his help.

I even became suicidal, homicidal, crazy feeling, all sorts of horrible things

Yet I cannot compare it to the intensity of being kidnapped and broken. Tortured nearly constantly. And having to work for a slave labor.

In words it seems the same. But in my still somewhat broken mind i dont see it that way.

Because what I did was break free. And i see these people in shackles. Giving up as i did multiple times. But bot just giving up for a day or week while still looking and,grasping. But i see people who lost hope.

How coils they not? I know i would, just keep my head down and work, stay out of trouble and try the best i can to keep shelter over my head and food in my belly and have,the faith that that would work to,keep,me,alive another day.

Again, in words, it sounds almost the same. But i had a job I picked,a house I picked, my own child, a car.

I had freedom. I had freedom to stop, i had freedom to quit. I could do anything in the world I wanted. And no one could stop me, beat me, or anything.

I had full control over my life and it's contents. Over what i ate or didn't n wheere i got it from.

So,while on paper it sounds as though our struggles are the same, the struggles of the human trafficking victims and their families do not compare; theirs are much greater.

Doing what i did on my own the way i have. It has brought extreme advancement to the medical community.

But when I look at the sea of faces, my heart and mind connect and tell me, it is not over. My eyes tell me, what you have suffered, they will, too.

And I know i can't take that pain they will have in the future away. It hurts my heart to know what I've gone through, mentally, in my life and know they Likley will as well.

But I just hope and pray that we are different enough, the human trafficking victims and I that they will have the happiness I have sought for myself and my own daughter.

And when i do, i see people hugging, i see people holding each other through some of the toughest best times of their lives. I see people together.

And i know, im likely an over protective mother, seeing all these people as her babies with all the last instructions about not forgetting to turn off the stove, or turning the pot handles in so you don't accidentally hit it and waste your food if you dont have a dog or a small child dumping boiling water on their heads.

Its not like sending them to college... Its like sending them home.

Homes that .... I've lived in nearly 40 houses. And None were the same. Except the constant battles and abuse from relatives that weren't mine.

That is why i am so thankful to London for sparing DNA kits that have been administered to all victims and will be administered to families all over the world. ASAP

Abu for hiding away Money and buying things for celebrations.

The governments for really listening, finally and helping all these families.

I know this is the first stage and so much more needs to be done. But as I put my head down to work, I know it will. Get done.

Because I've worked too hard,for too long for it to stop now.

Abu reminds me how i had a fear od public speaking. How i refused to fight. Others tell me how I was mute for years.

I came from nothing. And we're not throwing these victims out a plane without a parachute.

I've always known everyday my work wasn't just for me. It went beyond me. Beyond any thing i could see.

Know i know why

So twin matt splice this up into this,mornings email and then snoopy add this song.

VA contact my dad. He still,needs to pack. I probably have to repack my kid for warm weather clothes.

We got shit to do. What yall sitting looking at me for?

Add nickleback far,away and photograph. Doug has,these practiced so snoop sings along and alter some slight phases like the demand to stop breathing.

Wanted you to say to "stay" Steph also knows the words.

Photograph add in "when I get home" between the lines like how we do Rudolph the red nose reindeer. Batman wheels and all that. ... Will the school throw me out? No.

So,Snoop pick you want the songs or the add ins., I wanna push you to meet the tone of the songs original way to sing it So that it's US understanding the victims pain.

Then the victims reassure us woth the add ins that every thing will be okay.

So ALL the victims ...

"Criminal records broke 2x" a haha from the band then a repeated haha from the crowd so a repeated chord from Doug or jist a pause. His choice.

Should I try to go back and graduate "we ARE Free to CHOOSE"

"Wouldn't let me back in" go online!

......

Abu, Matthew. Hondo. Gherie, you already know. But some of you all need to understand "Far Away" from nickleback.

It was written for you.

Many songs were thanks to my great influence in the 90s on the music industry.

Thank you

[putaloadintrucks]

Theres a sheriff a’comin

“So you think we will see her again?”

“Who the fuck you talking about now tiny bitch”

“Jaslo you fucking smart ass, you think she’ll come back?”

“Well according to Shayne he is, I swear that kid had such a look of certainty on his face about it, never knew that kid had it in him to be so firm before. Thought he cowered under anything and everything.”

“Yeah….”

The season continued to die along in V8 Valley, the fall colors now turning grey and dead with the colder and colder days. Temperatures now where easily on average forty to fifty degrees, and that was plummeting every week up in the hills. Soon it would be entering single digits and most cars now where stocking up on supplies to hunker down in the upcoming months. As a result, more trucks moved through the valley, supplying the local residents and the odd tourist, helping them stick up on essentials such as food and fuel.

Currently one such truck was sitting outside the station, a now empty trailer behind him as the last of his supplies had been dropped off at the station. The battered black and silver semi was talking to an equally battered looking cop car, fresh bare metal over his body where repairs had been made to correct damage.

“So, Word down at the gossip kingdom is that you are finally getting that sheriff today. Is it true or do I need to go crack some frames down there again for yapping to much again?” asked the Semi, a Kenworth named Ryan who was a veteran of the logging industry in the area and the owner of a local lumber yard that was closed for the moment due to a lack of orders coming in.

“Yeah, No need to bust some body’s today Ryan, He should be here any minute” replied the cop, a deputy by the name of Dodger. He and his boss had recently had a run in with Jaslo’s boss recently, nearly killing them both before he had been dealt with by a… winged demon. The newspapers where still running stories on what it could be, but they all knew who had saved them. He had just been cleared by the county to finally be back on patrol, though his boss Vic was still gonna be up in traction for a few more weeks it seemed while his frame recovered. Dodger was inching to get back on patrol finally, the last month of recover having been incredibly boring to him.

“Good,” stated Ryan, “Last time I had them running scared. Glad they decided to only spread the truth this time around” he rumbled, earning a chuckle from Dodger.

“Can you blame them hot stuff, you can be very intimidating when you want to”murred the Caprice, Ryan narrowing his eyes at the cheek little cop.

“You want me to hit you, don’t you bug?” he said lately, Dodger cackling in laughter as  the sound of a door opening came from nearby, Dodgers brother Rodger slowly rolling out to the scene.

“If he hits you Dodger, I will not be helping you repair the damage” he stated, Dodgers laughter coming to end as he huffed, Ryan smirking at the sudden turnaround from the cop.

“You’re no fun sometimes” he spoke flatly, Rodgers gaze boring into him as an awkward silence between the two went on, only being broken by the soft rumbling chuckle of the Semi nearby.

“ Alright you two, let’s not have a sissy fight here, At least when I am not right here” Ryan jokingly said, earning a glare from both brothers as they huffed. “You two gonna be in as best of a shape as possible for when this new guy rolls up. Y’all know nothing about him, so the last thing you guys wanna do is piss him off the first day he is here”

“Yeah sure what ever.” huffed Dodger, sinking slowly to his frame as Rodger rolled his eyes.

“Lighten up Dodger, Could be worse. You could have had Ryan as your boss” cackled Ryan, earning a soft chuckle from the cop as Rodger growled.

“Shut it Ryan” he growled, a loud rumble came from the semi as he crept closer to the duo, a frown upon his bumper.

“ You want to see that to my grill, little fuckface?” he growled out, smoke bellowing from his stacks as his engine roared in anger, Rodger giving a soft eep as he sunk down to his frame in fear.

“No sir” he whimpered, Dodger cackling in laughter as the semi gave a humph.

“That’s what I thought. Think before you disrespect your elders” he growled as Rodger quickly nodded.

“Wow Rodger, did not know you could be such a bitch” Dodger said, giggling softly as Ryan diverted his attention to him, a frown on his face still.

“You can shut the fuck up as well, you need to stop egging him on. You know he’s been stressful about this whole thing since that shit went down, He has been scurrying up and down between stations trying to keep order on these roads, and the last thing he needs is your broken ass making fun of it. Save the jabs for when the new guy comes into town and some of the workload is of his trunk. Got it? Stated Ryan firmly, earning a sigh and a nod from Dodger.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry Rodger. I know it’s been tough for you, I’m just, you know-“started Dodger

“You’re you. Kind of hard for you not to be an ass little bro” smiled Rodger softly, earning an eye roll from the semi near them.

“Nice little sappy moment you two really makes the fuel pump fell all tingly” chuckled Ryan, both brothers groaning loudly.

“Shut up Ryan” they both said, the semi chuckling softly at them as the brothers huffed in embarrassment, mumbling softly to themselves.

“So Mr. Uptight regulations, When’s the sheriff coming?” asked the semi, earning a mumble from Rodger as he got back onto his tires.

“He came into CB range a little bit ago, so he should be here any minute. Just got off the radio talking to him when I came out here” answered Rodger.

“Does he sound like a complete asshole?” Dodger asked, earning a nod from Ryan as he too wanted to know.

“He sounded.. young. Like my age almost which is odd for a sheriff” said Roger, musing softly as Ryan gave a rumble of agreement

“It is, most sheriffs are near the mid to late thirties. They usually have a good amount of years on their built, know the laws inside and out from how long they have to be working. For a sheriff to be so young, either means he is a rule pusher, or that there was a massive change of the guard at his station and he got bumped up the ranks quickly. Something must have happened at Station 5 for that to happen. Strange I didn’t hear about it” Ryan mused softly, his eyes drawn up the road as it spiraled its way to the top. It was very strange indeed.

“Good news for us than maybe? Less likely to be an ass to us” quipped Dodger, earning a hood shake from Roger.

“If he is a pencil pusher it’s not, he could try to run this station by the books. That will not go over good with the people in this area if he does. Last thing I want is for him to be hurt by a local or multiple ones cause he tries to push his own rules on them” he stated, Ryan nodding as Dodger starred at the road in front of him, trying to catch a look at the new guy.

“ Agreed, people can be way too head strong around here. I could see someone giving him an accident for his trouble, or gangbanging the shit out of him on a back road somewhere against his will” Ryan mused, Rodger agreeing softly as Dodger quipped up.

“Well we are about to find out. I am pretty sure that RAM coming down in sheriffs colors is him. And he is very attractive” mused Dodger as Rodger joined him by his side, sighing softly.

“Please don’t fuck the sheriff on his first day” he said sadly, Dodger cackling softly next to him as he grinned.

“I promise no such thing” he said, giggling softly as Rodger rubbed at his eyes with his antenna.  He looked out at the cop as he rapidly got closer, his almost black eyes darting to them, a smile forming on his grill as he turned into the lot, smiling from mirror to mirror as he pulled up in front of them.

“Hi!” he said happily,” Names Oliver. Glad to be here” he added, smiling as Rodger sighed, Ryan chuckled, and Dodger grinned from mirror to mirror.

“Yep. Fucking him” he said, giggling softly as he licked at his lips. Rodger and Ryan groaned loudly, Oliver’s smile turning to one of confusion as he looked at Dodger.

“W-what” he said softly as Dodger kept on grinning.

“You heard me big boy” he cackled, earning a smack with a tire from Rodger.

“Bad, stop trying to make a move already” he growled, earning a snicker from Dodger. All the while Olviers hood slowly became redder and redder from the increasing blush.

“I , um, I-“he stuttred, Ryan giving a chuckle as Rodger glared at his younger brother.

“Welcome to Inline, Sexual deviant capital of the world” Ryan stated, Oliver looking up at him with a whimper.

“I’ve made an error coming here, huh” he said softly as all three gave him a nod.

“Yep, pretty much. Prepare to either be fucked or fucked while here. It sort of happens” Rodger said, his older brother giving a smirk next to him.

“Yep, and you are on my list now big boy. Be prepared” Dodger cackled, turning and driving into the station, all the while giggling to himself. His older brother and Ryan chuckled softly, all the while poor Oliver could only whimper, his blush having spread to most of his hood.

“Well welcome to the station, sheriff. Hope you have some fun here” Rodger quipped as he followed his brother back into the station to make sure he didn’t break anything important inside, leaving just Ryan and Oliver by themselves outside.

“Is it really that bad here? I wasn’t told anything about that when they asked for volunteers to come work down here as the sheriff” Oliver said softly, Ryan smirking at him as he nodded.

“Oh yeah, that’s probably why you got it. No one else wants to work here because of that reason. Probably something in the air around her to be honest” he said, The RAM softly sighing as he stared at his new favorite spot on the ground.

“ I should’a been suspicious than when I was the only one to volunteer” he mused, Ryan cackling as he started to pull out of the lot and back onto the highway.

“Yep you should have been” he yelled out, merging onto the freeway as a cloud of smoke boomed from his stacks, leaving Oliver by himself outside now. He sighed as he looked up at the station, whimpering as the thought of what he had actually gotten himself into finally crossed his mind.

“Why do I always get the shitty jobs”