#sniffles. sobs. anyways. update over

[99probalos]

(through sounds of chewing on a mouthful of cinderblock) ummm. 70sgi update

things are going slow. ill be real with you all. i'm working more on the outline than the actual story itself these days & polishing things up so they flow better and rounding out the ideas of these characters in my head which is good... im also drawing quite a bit mwahaha. but college is kicking my ass ill be so fucking real and true

please pray that my english class lets up on the ABSURD pace its going at . so that i can have more time to write. i'm like writing a few sentences each week its so bad guys. but anyways. Anyways. thank you to everyone whos standing by (T_T)... i really wanna get more done believe me. siiiiiigh...

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[hectorthedoggo]

I will put this in ao3 and edit when i have the means to. but. @kani-miso it's 0009 sibs i thought of you and decided to make this 🎀🎀

UPDATE I ACIDENTALLY DELETED THE TAB WITH MY EDITS AO3 is going to kill me

“Alright. Milgram's up.” The creature stayed. Es stayed frozen from where they were sitting on the couch. Oh God. What's the consequences of my verdicts?

Wait. Up? This is Trial 2?

They disregarded that. It must be a mistake.

If these verdicts even are mine, I can’t tell. I've been dreading this. I'm scared. They clutched their arms, trying to gain some warmth, some friction, for what was to happen next.

Jackalope narrowed his eyes at them. “A nervous one, aren't you now. Anyways, so since the administrators decided that you were too unstable, you'll go free. Congrats.

Oh yeah, and the verdicts didn't really have consequences, it was just a little social experiment. It doesn't matter. Good luck surviving in the real world!”

What. What the heck is he talking about? “Wha- What do you mean- Who's the admin- wah!”

They felt a pulling sensation, and suddenly, they were standing in a Walmart™ parking lot. The only other person nearby was Mikoto Kayano.

But, nobody was dead. He was in his original clothes, but. Wait, where are we? What's this big sign that says ‘Walmart’?

What is a Walmart, and where the hell did Milgram go?

They also had a little pack with them, and upon opening it, there was a little message printed out. Nothing else.

‘mikoto is your legal sibling btw. gl lmao be glad I even gave you this note ur probably my favorite warden - Jackalope (professional child neglecter)’

At least the pack looked cool looked cool…

Es was about to have a mental breakdown. Why did Milgram leave me like this? Is this what I am to them?

“Woah, what happened?” Mikoto wondered, “Hey, Es. Did you do this? Is Milgram over? Did they identify it to be a mistake?”

They started shaking. They threw me out like garbage. I…

“Es?”

They sniffled at the situation. I’m… garbage. Because, as my usual logic says, I am what Milgram deems me to be.

“I- I have no idea…” they extended the last vowel to emphasize how little idea they had.

They threw the note on the ground --- or at least tried to, it just flew away, right into Mikoto’s hands ---, and started to sob.

The tables had turned. Mikoto looked like he knew why he was here, Es didn’t (nande boku ga koko ni iruyo). It was genetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto had gotten the note, and he read it. “Wh- huh?”

He stared over at Es. “Es, this is a mistake, right?”

“That is the least of my worries right now, pudding boy!” they snapped at him, instead channeling their sadness into aggression.

He completely disregarded their feelings, to the point where he might not have even heard them. “Right… my mom did mention that our father got remarried. Wah, Suu! You’re my little sib!”

He went up to their grieving form, and gave them a little fistbump, lifting up their unwilling arm to do so. Why did he do that? Last time we touched, John was beating the shit out of me.

A random car pulled up into the Walmart™ parking lot, and the window unrolled. 

It was a woman with brownish hair, who looked like Mikoto. “Oh, you’re the other sibling that your father was talking about. You two can just get in the back in the car, your sister’s taking shotgun. Nice to meet you!”

Why the fuck does Mikoto’s sister have a shotgun? Are they all like this?

Mikoto followed in with them, and buckled in. Es had no idea what was going on.

They could not find the seatbelt, too busy processing the upheaval of their life in the past 5 minutes.

“Yo, sib. The seatbelt’s over there.” Mikoto smiled and gave a thumbs up, like a reliable older brother. “I saw it.” I did not see it.

They touched it, and got stung by the heat. Their, wait, no, Mikoto’s sister turned back at their sound of pain, turning off her phone. “Ah, yeah. It’s summer, don’t touch it.”

They scowled, forgetting their dread in the face of the overheated car seatbelt.

The car chimed, and the keys jingled. “Alright, folks! You two seem pretty tired from wherever the heck you disappeared to. Would you wanna go home, or get some ice cream?”

The sister turned around, and smiled a little wide. “My dear siblings, do you know the answer? There is a correct one.”

Es scowled. “What the fuck is an ice cream. Why is the cream ice?”

“Are you serious?” She scrutinized their face, finding the truth, “Step on it, Ma.” She went back to her phone, probably texting her friends about this weird kid in a warden outfit that was apparently her sibling now.

Mikoto looked over at Es and shrugged, like a comical cartoon character. Like a ‘what can you do?’.

I won’t allow these insolent- wait, these aren’t prisoners. Unless the sister girl did something with that shotgun of hers. It would run in the family, I guess.

Wait, that would mean that I’m also violent. Nevermind.

The 11th cell came to mind, and they dismissed it. Wrong kinda fic, buddy. We staying fluff here.

“So, Mikoto. And, what’s your name?”

“Es. I think?”

The woman put on her strict mother voice. “... okay. Mikoto and Es. What was so important that you had to completely disappear for like a years. No note! Job gone! You could’ve died, for all I knew! Es, sweetie, I’m sure it was Mikoto’s fault. He’s such a bad influence.”

Es raised their hand to ask a question, slightly flustered from the pet name. She indicated that they could speak.

They decided to just reveal it all. “Um, Mikoto committed murder… eh, Mikoto, he has DID and was stressed from his job, hence the murder. And I was the warden of the prison that held him and 9 others.”

Mikoto lost all of his composure at all of his darkest secrets being revealed, the dramatic guy he was. “What… Es, don’t… I… that’s not… I don’t have DID? I was doing… I was doing just…”

He seemed a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having to unpack all of the luggage that Es laid out, so another guy came out. “I am not straight. Oh- sorry, hi, I’m John. I’m the guy who totally committed the murder 100% trust guys c’mon vote mikoto innocent 2024-”

I already had to deal with that yapping last interrogation. Es shut him up with their hand. He waved it away. “If you’re gonna say that shit about Mikoto, Es hasn’t been going to bed at a healthy time or eating healthy.”

They were betrayed at his reveal. “I can’t believe you.”

“We’re going to fix that, Es. You’re going to get the regular kid treatment.” The mother nodded, eyes steeling. Oh no, not the normal teen treatment!

John had some other stuff going on behind there. Maybe Mikoto’s cheesiness had rubbed off on him. “As soon as we get out of this car I’m giving you a hug.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Speaking of unwarranted physical contact. “Oh yeah, mo- Mikoto’s mother, um… John beat me up in Trial 1.”

“SNITCH?!”

“What’cha gonna do about it?”

“Give you another hug.” He deviously grinned, knowing that wasn’t the answer they expected or an answer they liked.

“I won’t allow it.” But, they weren’t the warden anymore. They couldn’t deflect affection as well as they used to.

The sister was unbothered by this discourse. Perhaps it hasn’t quite set in. “I guess I got two extra surprise siblings. Cool.”

-

When they got to the ice cream store after a prolonged amount of awkward silence, the moment the car doors opened, the chase was on.

Es nearly ran into oncoming traffic to escape any chance at being loved, as one does, but John grabbed them and lifted them up by their elbows, giving them a hug once they were out of the street.

“Jeez, you’re light. C’mon, we’re getting ice cream and you aren’t gonna kill yourself.”

“‘M not!” They kicked their legs to try and get the man off of them. But, they had about the strength of a 5 week old kitten compared to him, without the claws.

He plopped them down, Es seething about their lack of power they had here.

The sister turned off her phone, finally, and turned to Es. “Okay, I just wanna make sure. Were you joking earlier about not having ice cream before?”

“I’m the prison warden of Milgram, I don’t need-”

She interrupted them before they could start monologuing and crying about how Milgram didn’t exist anymore. “You’re getting Birthday Bash.”

“What- but it’s not my birthday?” It could be, for all I know, but she’s doesn’t have to know that.

“Ok, what is your birthday?” Dammit.

“Great question!” Es stared into space, tone full of sarcasm. Milgram never tells me shit.

“Mikoto or whoever the hell you are, do you know their birthday?”

“Nah.” John responded. “By the way, um, this kid was the one who named me John, because they thought it would be funny to be a know-it-all and reference some English name.”

She looked over at Es. “No offense, but you suck at naming. I think we were all thinking that.” We…

Es tried to defend their horrible naming skills. “What?! Who else was gonna name him?”

Mikoto’s mother decided to join in the conversation, but left after putting her two cents in. “Me. Or Mikoto, since he’s where John came from.”

John smirked. “See, Es! But the name has stuck, so you owe me.”

Es crossed their arms, huffing. “I don’t owe you anything. You beat me up that one time, so if anything, you owe me!”

He couldn’t exactly find a defense for that, so he took their hat off their head and held it as high as he could reach, exposing their hat hair. “Hey!”

They jumped to get it, but to no avail. They looked pathetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto’s mother and sister had already gone in to order. Order, like what a judge says?

It’s all a law reference.

John grinned. “You're a silly little creature, Suu.”

“You're not Mikoto, stop that.” I do not like that weird ass nickname.

He put on an innocent face. “What do you mean? I'm Mikoto, and I love my company so much! Hahaha, I would never commit murder. This must be a mistake!”

Es was somewhat surprised. “That's stuff he actually said in his first trial, how did you get it so accurately?”

“I hear this guy's internal monologue.”

That’ll do it. “Ah.”

 He threw their hat into the air while they were distracted, and they stepped back in surprise. He caught it. “Nice hat.”

“Get away from-”

The rest of the family brought over ice cream, and Es was handed a mash of colors in theirs that seemed unnatural.

“Is this food?”

“Eat it.” John asserted.

They shrugged. If this is poison, at least I don't have to worry about Milgram and all that stuff.

Worst case scenario, it doesn't kill me and it tastes bad. I'm not sure what my best case scenario is. Dying? It tasting good? We’ll see.

They bit down on the food with aggression, and it tasted… amazing, other than the fact that it was cold.

“What the heck is this? In a good way?” They temporarily forgot about their slight suicidal ideation.

“Bro has never heard of the wonders of overly processed foods…” the sister commented, smirking.

Why is she calling me bro? Huh? If I question her, will she bring out the shotgun? I'm scared of her. She’s my older sister now, isn’t she…

To be honest, Kotoko was scarier. I’ll be fine.

She wasn’t addicted to her phone, though… wait, right. Kotoko kinda was.

They grinned, and momentarily forgot their troubles in the face of their action. I’m so much better than these people. This tastes good. Mmm… ice cream… I like it…

They did get a brain freeze, and brought their hand up to their forehead in pain.

They got their head patted by John, who had somehow consumed his (larger serving of) ice cream. “Do you want the rest of that?”

“Yes?” They answered.

He grabbed a spoon, and took a bite of their ice cream. “Wow, this tastes nice.”

Es disliked the younger sibling experience. “Give me my hat back. I didn’t forget about that.”

“No.” However, he made a mistake: it happened to be in grabbing range. They quickly snatched it, and grinned in pride.

But, while they were distracted with John, they forgot about their other older sibling, who took a sizable amount of their precious ice cream.

I just discovered ice cream. Will they stop stealing it?

-

They were next in a car, making sure to avoid the seatbelt this time. About ⅓ of their ice cream had been usurped, and they didn't have the strength to defend it.

But, it wasn’t that bad. These people are nice…

I… I guess this is my life now? It’s not that bad.

Finally, there were no catches to this fact.

They would have to buy new clothes, the warden outfit was scratchy.

[marvelfanfics1]

Pairing: daddy!john b x little!reader x papa!jj

Warnings: age regression, some cursing

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were standing before the entrance of the country club, hands shaking and tears forming in your eyes while you call John B, anxiously waiting for him to pick up.

Just seconds later you hear him on the other line. "Hey baby..." He trails off, waving JJ over to him as he hears you starting to sob instantly. He puts you on speaker, trying to calm you down. "Baby, breathe. Are you hurt?"

"N-No..." You sniffle and both boys sigh in relief.

"Okay, can you tell me what's going on?" He asks, JJ pulling his hat off while pacing back and forth, desperate to know what or who made his girl upset.

"I-I was servin' one of the guests and-and he was bein' weird and tw- tried to touch me! I was bein' nice and told him not to...b-but later my boss came to me and fired me bee! Didn't do anythin' wrong-" You sob, hoping nobody hears you right now and he could hear your speech slurring a little and knows you're fighting to not slip in public.

"Mother-" JJ starts and John B gives him a warning glare, sending him off to get the keys for the Twinkie.

"It's okay, bun. Where are you right now?" He sounds calm but also he was boiling with anger, knowing that creep probably told your boss some shit, threatened or bribed him to fire you just because you told him no.

"M'outside before the entrance..."

"Alright, stay there. Me and papa are on our way, 'kay?" You didn't answer but John B knows you were nodding your head.

As soon as JJ was sure you weren't on the phone he started cursing and ranting while getting in the drivers side of the van. "I swear- imma beat the shit outta that asshole. How dare he? Fucking kooks-"

John B tunes him out, more focused on texting you to make sure you're alright and keeps you updated on how far away they are.

Soon enough they spot you standing before the country club, hugging yourself sadly. John B quickly goes to the back and slides the door open, jumping out to embrace you.

He scoops you up, getting back in the Twinkie he slides the door close before sitting down and cradles you in his arms. He brushes the strains of hair that stuck to your wet cheeks to the side, looking down at you with a comforting smile.

"M'sorry-" your bottom lip quivers and you went to hide your face in his chest.

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry at all. It's not your fault, okay? Neither of us are mad at you." He assures you, wiping the one tear from your cheek that slipped. "Right, JJ?"

"Huh- oh hell yea! We're proud of you for standin' up for yourself, cupcake. If something like that ever happens again you have my full permission to slap that person." JJ says catching you smiling a little through the rearview mirror, giving you a wink.

John B just rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as your giggling at JJ's antics was better than seeing you cry. As much as he's the more responsible one he can't deny that he wishes you spat in that creeps face. Anyway, it was a shit job either way.

Maybe he can talk to Mr. Heyward about giving you a mini job.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra

[supi-wupi]

Hospital

[pairing] SEPARATELY gojo x reader, nanami x reader, choso x reader

[a/n] 

[cw] fluff, fluff, fluff, choso cries, gojo spoils you, nanami talks to you, comfort

Gojo Satoru

The first visit went something like this;

“Fuck baby, are you okay?” Gojo say’s as he busts into the room, hair and clothes disheveled.

“I’m okay baby, nothing big” You reply back to him in a calm tone, trying not to showcase how scared you were due to the severity of the injuries.

“Just a few broken bones and scratches here and there, nothing vital.”

“Just a few? Babe you literally broke more then 5 bones at the same time, that’s got to hurt some how.” Gojo whisper shouts as to not seem mad at you.

“Doctors say I’ll be fine, just need a lot of rest and to lie down for a while.” You reply smiling to try to lift Gojo’s spirt.

Gojo looks defeated and sad, his eyes overfilling up with tears that run down his cheeks.

“You promise you’ll be okay?” It was silly to make a promise over this, but to let Gojo rest a little, you’ll agree to anything.

“Just for you ‘toru, I promise I’ll be fine”

Gojo continued to visit you day after day after breaking down in front of you. You couldn’t be more grateful for the company you receive daily, it gets lonely when your in a plain white room. But as soon as you mention it to Gojo, he instantly orders staff to move you to the best room they had ASAP, saying that he would cover the room fees. As you try to tell him he didn’t need to do this for you, he insisted its the least he could do for you right now while you were so vulnerable to others.

When you finally got release with a lot of medication for pain and recovery, Gojo opted to bring you to his penthouse for you to regain your strength slowly but surely in safety. Everyone instantly agreed to it due to how secure his house was from security and staff he hired (just for you he would add but he just said he hired them a while ago).

The food the private chef made was amazing, always making your prefered taste of food at your request. But as soon as a mistake was made, Gojo flipped out and told you he could fire them and hire a new one if you just said the word. You of course deny and say it was just a small mistake and that they were really kind towards you.

Anyway, Gojo would absolutely spoil the shit out of you all the way through.

Nanami Kento

He seemed unreasonably calm on the outside to others, but you knew him better then that. You knew he was suffering as much as you were.

Nanami always brings a present when he visits you, whether the gift were flowers or food or candy, you most enjoyed his company he brought with him.

He sits beside you at all times while he visits, updating you on what’s happened outside while you ask him to explain something further. You just enjoy the sound of his voice over the constant beeping of the machines your connected to.

He never asked you about your injuries, you think he ask the doctors about it daily, but he never brought up why you were in the hospital in the first case. You think its probably to take your mind off it, but either way, you couldn’t thank him more for being with you as much as he could be.

Overall, he just loves to give you gifts on his visits, you have a large pile of items he’s brought along with him next to the window. Your mind is always all over the place but when he visits, it seemingly calms down and just listens to him, tuning out the outside world

Choso Kamo

He always manages to tear up at all of his visits, whether it was because he had a bad day, or because he just really missed you. You’d bring his face up closer to you and start kissing all around his face in attempt to calm him down each time he broke down sobbing. After his sobs starts turning into sniffles, you place a big kiss on his lips and over his eye lids. After a while longer, you hear his breathing even out as he lays next to you on the small cramped bed, falling asleep.

He never fails to fall asleep with you, dragging you with him into dreamland. Keeping your mind off reality whenever he’s there.

[geeminz]

ᯓ A CHANGE OF HEART // giselle x oc ; smau

02 | stay

↳ in which: mihye has been secretly dating giselle, her best friend’s older sister, for four months. what happens when their relationship turns toxic, and their secrets become public?

taglist: @thefckghost @emphobics @jisooftme @xszn @gtfoiydlyj @wonysugar @bluhuir @baewonlove

a.n i am SOOOO so so sorry for the late update T^T school was super demanding last week (and the week before that) and i really had to focus on finishing some student council duties first because we had one of our massive events last week! i'll make sure to make up to those who really waited a long time for an update by giving you guys a double update! anyway yeah, that's all! hope you enjoy this next one. comments would be appreciated too, if it's not too much of a hassle! :D okay byee

“hey.” mihye opens the door for taro, revealing her puffy red eyes and similarly red nose to one of her bestest friends, shotaro. 

“damn, mihye. what the hell did giselle do to you this time?” taro asked, his eyebrows crunched up in concern as he gently placed the bags full of soju on the floor. his arms reached out to mihye to wrap her around his embrace. mihye wails out on shotaro’s chest.

“she got mad at me… i don’t exactly know why, but she’s not replying to me and i don’t know what to —” mihye chokes as she sobs, and taro couldn’t help but to click his tongue at the state of his friend. his hands rub the back of mihye’s back as he tried his best to provide comfort to her.

“it’s okay, hye… breathe. let’s go in first and then let’s talk about it, okay?"

——————————————————————————————————

“so let me get this straight… she got mad at you because you hung out with your best friend, which is… her sister?” taro asked, genuine confusion and disgust painted on his face. the two were currently positioned on the bar of mihye’s apartment — taro was mixing the drinks together in a pitcher while mihye sat on one of the bar stools.

mihye nods, and taro shakes his head. “dude, she’s crazy.”

“i really don’t understand her taro. so i texted her earlier to try and get her to come over so we could talk and make up, but she’s not replying. and then i saw her posts and she’s out drinking with her friends.”

taro sighs in disapproval. “y’know what hye? let her drink with god knows who. who even cares?”

“me, taro. i care.” mihye tries to reason.

“so what? if she drinks, then you drink too.” taro said, and hands mihye a shot of his mix. “here you go. taste test.”

mihye sniffles before taking the shot and downing it. “it’s really good, taro.”

the guy smirks. “i know right? now we’re ready for the rest of the evening.”

mihye watches taro as he pours himself a shot of his own mix and then hers, smiling sadly as shotaro raises the glass towards her. mihye clinks the brims of their glasses together before downing another shot.

“holy shit, this is good.”

“for real. i can’t even taste the alcohol.”

“okay! let’s get fucking drunk hye.” taro encourages the girl, but mihye just gives him a look — one that shotaro knows all too well.

“many have tried, taro. but i never get drunk.”

“that’s why i’m gonna try my fucking best to be the first guy to get you drunk.”

“that sounds really horrible if you take the context away, taro.”

“just drink, hye. stop thinking so much.”

“fine.”

——————————————————————————————————

15 shots later, and shotaro had already shut down on mihye’s couch. mihye purses her lips as she watched her drunken friend mumble out some slightly comprehensible phrases.

“how come… you’re not drunk?” taro slurs as he pulls one of mihye’s throw pillows near his chest.

mihye shrugs as she gets up. “dunno. but you are. so go to sleep.”

“mmmph! no!” taro wails like a kid not getting what he wanted, and mihye smiles to herself at how ridiculous her friend looks.

“i’m grabbing a blanket for you.”

“girl!”

“what?”

“...”

mihye shakes her head at shotaro’s antics — the guy was sooo going to get a horrible hangover tomorrow. shotaro rarely drinks — hence his horrible tolerance, but whenever he gets unbelievably drunk, he doesn’t really cause a mess or a scene, so mihye was okay with taking care of him. although it would tire her out considering how heavy she felt right now — literally, with the amount of alcohol she drank. 

mihye turns down the volume of shotaro’s music — he said that it’d help the alcohol hit mihye stronger (fun fact: it didn’t do a thing to mihye) — and leaves the living room to go grab a blanket from her closet.

when she returned, taro’s already snoring softly on her couch. mihye helps him get more comfortable — she places a pillow underneath his head, and covers his limp body with her thick blanket. the girl quietly cleaned up the place — picking up the used glasses, the pitcher and the chips they couldn’t finish, and placed them all on the counter of the bar. mihye washed the glasses, placed the pitcher in her fridge, and put the chips in a sealed container to maintain their crispiness. after, she sweeps the floor, and turned her diffuser on.

after finishing her impromptu chores, mihye started to get ready for bed, taking a shower and changing into her pajamas. picking up her unchecked phone to scroll through twitter for a bit, mihye’s eyes widened as an unexpected notification pops up from the top of her phone.

“shit, shit!” mihye panics at giselle’s text. she hurriedly slips on her slippers and sprints out her room and towards the door.

why is she here? she’s not supposed to be here!

in her mind, mihye could already count the many ways that giselle would scold her for having a guy over. giselle wouldn’t care if shotaro was mihye’s friend, or that he was aro-ace — giselle would only be able to think that despite everything, shotaro was still a guy. and guys… well. guys can do a lot of wrong things.

even so, mihye was not mentally ready for the anger that giselle would unleash upon her when she sees a drunken shotaro on mihye’s couch. she’d already gotten shit for hanging out with kazuha, how much more if giselle sees a drunk shotaro in her house?

despite fearing giselle’s anger, mihye takes a deep breath and opens the door for her.

and boy, was giselle drunk.

“hey.” giselle says, leaning on the frame of mihye’s door. she reeks of alcohol, and her bangs were sticking to her forehead — a small testament of just how sweaty she was. mihye ignores the faint shade of lipstick on giselle’s cheek (probably washed out by her sweat) and pulls giselle in as quickly as she could.

but once mihye does, giselle’s legs fail her and the older girl falls on mihye, her entire weight collapsing on mihye. the two fall harshly on the floor, with giselle’s sweat sticking on mihye’s freshly showered skin.

“gi! ow…” mihye groans, whisper-shouting at her drunk girlfriend. giselle only hums some incoherent words at her.

“hmm… don’t…”

“gi, please — get up.” mihye tried to push giselle off of her, and managed to get her to roll over after a few weak and unsuccessful attempts.

“hye…” giselle mumbles with her eyes closed. mihye gets up to try and bring giselle towards her room, where the younger girl could properly clean her up, but giselle’s heavy body made it difficult for her.

“gi, please… cooperate with me here.” mihye is frustrated with how heavy her girlfriend was when she was blackout drunk. mihye wraps giselle’s limp arm around her neck, and grabs giselle’s body with her other arm to get her up. it was difficult, but mihye was eventually met with success when she finally managed to support giselle’s entire limp body upright.

“mm…” giselle kept mumbling, and even though mihye could feel that giselle was trying to talk to her, the younger girl felt that it was more important to get giselle out of her sweaty clothes and dress her up into something more comfortable for sleep.

the younger girl dragged her girlfriend all the way towards her room, and once more into her bathroom. mihye’s battle with giselle’s unconscious body was even more difficult though, as there was less room for her to wiggle around without unintentionally hurting her girlfriend.

“gi… can you just try to sit up for me?” mihye pushed down the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes now. 

you can’t cry now, mihye. giselle needs you.

giselle is unresponsive, as mihye expected it. so she tries to comfortably place giselle on the surface of her bathtub, before taking a breather.

she’s so drunk. how the hell did she drive all the way here if she was this drunk?

mihye pushes down the thought of giselle’s vehicle back to the depths of her mind in order to focus on taking off the sweaty clothes from giselle’s body. she makes sure to keep the giselle’s car keys somewhere safe and dry, before proceeding to give giselle a shower.

it took mihye at least an hour to get everything done — giving giselle a shower, dressing her up in sleep clothes, and placing her on mihye’s bed. afterwards, mihye grabs her jacket and runs to the nearest elevator to check on giselle’s car in the basement of their condo building.

giselle’s gonna be so mad if her car got scratched or something.

once she gets there, she meets the security guard in charge for tonight, and he gives her a lengthy lecture about how a car should never be parked in the middle of the lot.

“it’s a huge inconvenience for all the other tenants here, young lady!”

“i know — i’m really sorry sir. it won’t happen again. i promise.”

“tell that girl who parked here to never do that again. i get that she’s drunk, but if she’s that drunk, she should’ve taken a cab or something. don’t let her do this again, and especially not in this building!”

“... yes sir, i understand. i’m really sorry. i’ll remind her.”

mihye reparks the car — properly this time, and not in the state that giselle left it in. she sees the scratch on the car, and anxiety bubbles in her stomach.

giselle’s going to be so mad. sure, she did this to herself by driving all the way here while drunk, but still.

i don’t like it when she’s mad.

mihye gets back to her apartment, spent from all the things she had to do in the span of a single night. at this point, she was so fucking tired, but she knew she couldn’t rest yet. she showers again and changes her clothes, as giselle’s sweat from earlier had rubbed off on her clothes.

“mi… hye?” she hears giselle call out from their bed. mihye closes the door of her closet, and approaches giselle.

“mihye…” giselle mumbles out once more, and mihye feels a pinch somewhere in her heart as she takes a closer look at giselle’s serenely sleeping body.

how can she still make me feel this way despite everything…?

mihye lays down in front of giselle, and she sees giselle’s hands moving, inching — she was probably reaching out for something. or maybe someone.

sighing, mihye takes giselle’s hands into her own, and rubs circles on top of giselle’s palm.

“mmm… don’t… leave… me…”

tears threaten to spill from mihye’s eyes upon hearing those words from giselle’s lips.

“s… stay…” giselle says once more, and just like that, mihye’s heart decides to beat for giselle again.

mihye presses a gentle, chaste kiss on giselle’s forehead before wrapping her girlfriend’s body around her arms. mihye falls asleep, with a single tear escaping and running down her cheek the moment she closes her eyes.

go to: masterlist | next

[mykingdomforapen]

chapter 10 of "courage of stars" will be coming next week and guys, I'm so nervous. I am so excited and I'm so nervous. This chapter is many things. It's where I got to do some things I've been really wanting to do. It's where I cross a point of no return in the story. I got to try a different style. It's where the line blurs between fanfic and a genre that I respect and fear.

It's also a huge factor in why this fic is rated M. Hoo boy.

So! In lieu of updating today, so that you won't have to face a three week wait afterwards, here's a fun little drabble/filler episode:

-

When Lu Guang was four years old, he lovingly killed three tadpoles. He had scooped them from the pond in a plastic cup and brought them home happily, convinced he would raise them into froghood. By Thursday, all three of them floated lifelessly in the surface of the bright blue tub in which he housed them. His mother poked them curiously with a chopstick while he sobbed into his grandmother's lap.

"Don't be so sad, Guangguang," Maamaa crooned as she patted Lu Guang's head. "You tried very, very hard. We all know that you did your best." 

"I killed them!" Lu Guang wailed into her skirt. "I just want them to be frogs and now they died!"

"Oh, A Guang," his mother said as she furtively plucked the dead tadpoles into a bundled newspaper for a more discreet funeral. "This is a good learning experience, right? Now you know what not to do with a frog. See, it's good to learn with the wild tadpoles, before you spend money on a pet. You know better for next time not to use tap water."

Lu Guang sobbed louder ("I meant it to be comforting!") until Yeye came home. Maamaa intercepted Yeye before he walked through the door and sent him on a mission to bring home steamed bai tang gao as a consolation, and Yeye beelined to the nearest vendor to bring home a steaming, buoyant cake of tangy sweet rice. Lu Guang chewed on it sullenly on the living room sofa after bidding the dead tadpoles goodbye into the storm drain.

Yeye sighed as he sat next to Lu Guang, stroking his grandson's little head.

"You know," he said, "when I was little, my father raised bees."

Lu Guang blinked up at Yeye with teary eyes.

"Honeybees?" he asked.

Yeye nodded. "My father was a very adventurous man, you know. A scholar, but always enjoyed the outdoors. He got it in his head that he would like to try raising a colony of honeybees. I was so excited to help him. I thought we would have hives and hives of bees, but what do you know! Only a month or so of having the bees, one day they all flew away. The queen said, no more! I was so disappointed."

Lu Guang sniffled. Yeye scratched the back of Lu Guang's head.

"After that, we stuck with chickens," Yeye said lightly. "What do you think of chickens, A Guang?"

Lu Guang shook his head.

"I like frogs," he whispered.

"You want to try raising frogs again?"

Lu Guang nodded. Yeye smiled crookedly.

"Ah, well," he said. "Chickens are smelly, anyway."

-

For Lu Guang's seventh birthday, his parents took him to the pet store.

His mother had promised him a pet frog for when he turned seven, partly because she had assumed he would grow out of frogs in three years' time. She was a woman of her word, though, when she noticed him checking out library books about frog care and frog types when he hit age six. When asked if he wanted to invite friends over to play, he shook his head and asked to go to the pet shop.

So on Sunday when Ba and Ma were off work, they took Lu Guang to the best-rated pet shop in the city, four subway stops away from Peidi University. Lu Guang was shaking with anticipation as he counted down the stops, donning his frog bucket hat in celebration and looking away solemnly when teenage girls cooed at him. All he could think about was his dream coming true.

“Now, A Guang,” his mother said breezily as she took Lu Guang’s hand to wade through foot traffic. “When you pick a frog, you have to make sure it isn’t poisonous, okay? Mommy is afraid of poisonous animals.”

“I don’t want a poison dart frog,” said Lu Guang, albeit with reservation. “They won’t have them in a pet store.” 

He did not know what sort of frogs were available in the pet store that Ma and Ba were taking him. Ba, in all his practicality, had assumed that they would go to one of the street markets and pick up a frog that was meant for the dinnerplate. He expressed mild surprise when they turned left to the subway station, so Lu Guang knew Ba wasn’t going to be any help in asking for clues. 

“All right, Guangguang,” said Ma as she ushered Lu Guang into the pet store. It was a corner shop with clean glass windows, full of tanks and cages and colorful habitat accessories. Colorful parakeets squawked and glittering snakes coiled under sunlamps, and Lu Guang’s little heart began to race with anticipation. “Only one frog, do you understand?” 

Lu Guang nodded, his eyes as wide as coins as he stared up at the tall towers of tanks. There were saltwater coral fish dancing among anemones, drowsy tarantulas (Ma squeaked at the sight of them), sunbathing turtles, bearded lizards, and–

Lu Guang felt his jaw drop. 

An Amazon milk frog. 

It was just at eye level with Lu Guang, so that when he pressed his nose to the glass he was eye to eye with the docile pale blue frog. It perched on a rock under the sunlamp, milky blue and content to stare back at Lu Guang. It was perfectly patterned, gummy blue webbed feet, and a lipless mouth that promised simplicity. 

It was, in short, the most wonderful creature that Lu Guang had ever seen. 

He stood up on his tiptoes to get a closer look at the frog. Its tiny breaths puffed in its throat in a fascinating rhythm. It was like seeing a real-life Doraemon in Lu Guang’s eyes, or Sun Wukong–a fairy-tale celebrity come to life, except instead of comic books it was Lu Guang’s frog encyclopedia. Lu Guang knew its habitat, its life cycle, its favorite foods, and now he could behold one with his own eyes. 

Seven minutes passed, and his mother touched him on the head.

“A Guang, there are other frogs you should look at too,” she said.

Lu Guang shook his head. He pressed his hands against the glass. 

“Aiyah, A Guang, not too close.” 

Lu Guang moved his nose a millimeter away from the glass, leaving a smudge. His mother looked down at him with a crooked smile. 

“Is this the one you want, then?” she said. 

He looked up to his mother and nodded. Ma turned to Ba and tapped the price tag. Ba nodded solemnly and undertook the task of haggling (unsuccessfully) with the store owner. 

“Let’s pick out a tank for him,” said Ma. 

She took Lu Guang’s hand and tugged him towards the habitat shelves, but Lu Guang refused to budge. He glued himself to the spot, maintaining unbreakable eye contact with the milk frog. 

“A Guang, come on, now,” she said. “We have to give him a home, don’t we?” 

Lu Guang huddled closer to the tanks. He was convinced that if he were to let the frog out of his sight, some other seven-year-old boy would swoop down and claim the frog as his own. 

“Ba is buying the frog right now, see?” Ma said, pointing to Ba who was conceding to the original price of the pet store while he pulled out his wallet. “There. Let’s choose a tank.” 

After another minute of convincing, Lu Guang finally followed his mother to pick out a proper tank for his frog. He picked out the soil, cleaned rocks, plants, and water source that would all go into his terrarium, but it wasn’t until Ba handed to Lu Guang a plastic covered cup with his milk frog sitting politely inside did Lu Guang feel the surge of joie de vivre. He hugged the cup to his chest, whispered his thanks to his father, and then burst into tears, precisely in that order.

-

Thanks for indulging me with this little drabble, gang. Who knows, since I'm kind of keeping up this 2 week streak for the rest of the update schedule, you might see the return of Frog Guang's adventures again...after all, if you've been on my tumblr for some time, you may recall that I have a headcanon that Lu Guang has beef with one of his cousins.

Until next week!

[wingedquill]

notes on survival (a preview)

so i blacked out and wrote like 4K words of a new fic concept. I don't think I'll be posting it on ao3 until it's entirely done (really do not need another currently-updating WIP) but wanted to share the first little bit on here with y'all (CW: kidnapping, violence against children) ---

Here’s how it starts, for Steve:

He’s ten.

He’s riding his bike. It’s a bit late in the day, but not that late, not nearly his curfew. The sun is still high in the sky, and he can hear kids shrieking with laughter a few streets over. They’d invited him to play with them, but he’d turned them down cause he wanted to check on the tadpoles he’d found in the pond last weekend.

He gets to a stop sign. A car pulls up next to him: old, gray, forgettable. The windows are down, but it’s summer. It’s normal. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

A bang. A scream. 

“Help!” a voice shouts from the trunk. “Someone help!”

The driver looks over. Makes direct eye contact with Steve.

He knows, even as he starts pedaling, that he’s not gonna be fast enough.

***

Steve can’t really remember a time when he’d been un-messed-up. Not clearly, at least. He has the vague, stretched-summer memories of baking cookies with his mom, of somersaulting off the diving board at the public pool and getting yelled at by a lifeguard, of hiding in the woods simply because it was the best way to avoid his chores.

They’re nice memories, he thinks. Part of him wants to put them in a box and never touch them again. But they’re nice.

He’s good at pretending they’re all he’s made of.

But now he’s here. Walking through the woods. He’s not avoiding his chores but he’s also not hiding, and that’s probably the only reason why he’s not vomiting into the underbrush. Nancy’s hand is cold in his, and it’s enough of an anchor.

He’s not alone.

“Will!” he yells, his lungs burning with the force of the yell. “Will!”

He wonders if he got a search party like this.

***

They’re bumping down a road that’s more potholes than asphalt. The other boy won’t stop hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone apologizes. You’re supposed to accept it. 

He doesn’t even know what the boy is apologizing for, not really. He isn’t a kidnapper. He hadn’t tied Steve up and stuffed him in the trunk. He had only screamed for help. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

“I’m Steve,” he says. It’s important that the other boy knows his name. Vitally so. The man who took them isn’t gonna care, and he needs one person here who cares about him.

The other boy sniffles against Steve’s shirt.

“Ed,” he chokes. “I’m Ed.”

***

He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s gasping for air and his sides are on fire. 

Second verse, same as the first.

“We gotta get your shirt off,” Robin’s telling him. “We need to, Steve, your dirty, lake-gunk sweater is embedded in those wounds, I don’t want you getting a massive infection on top of rabies. That’s like, for sure definite dead.”

He drags himself out of the hunting shack and into the Upside Down. Eddie and Nancy are huddled together by a fallen tree, Nancy giving him a quick rundown of how the hivemind works. Neither of them are looking.

“I can’t,” he chokes anyway. “They’ll see–they’ll know.”

Cross your heart and hope to die.

She bites her lip. She looks like his mom had, when she’d told him he wouldn’t be seeing Ed again. Like she’s cutting off one of his limbs to save the rest of him.

“Steve, they won’t care,” she lies.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll chance the infection,” he says. “I mean it Robin.”

She closes her eyes. Scoots around to the other side of him, putting herself between him and Eddie-and-Nancy.

“I’ll dress the wounds quick,” she says. “And give you my overshirt. That okay?”

He takes a deep breath. Hunches in on himself. He’s always been a bit too good at making himself unseen. A bit better than he would like.

“Okay,” he agrees.

***

“They’re looking for us,” he whispers. 

He tucks his face into Ed’s shoulder, wishes they could hug. A hug would make this better, he thinks, if he could just get his arms around to the front. If he could just hug, and be hugged, he’d wake up. They’d both wake up.

They’d both be at home in their beds. They’d be safe. Mom would make him hot chocolate like she always does after nightmares, and he’d check to see if the robin’s eggs outside his window had hatched, and he’d be okay.

“Yeah,” Ed whispers back. “Yeah, they are.”

Around them, the car’s engine roars.

[bettyfrommars]

Stop the World and Melt with You//Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

✨One minute, you're bawling your eyes out in 2023, and the next thing you know--you're at a gas station with guy named Eddie, in a town that feels stuck in the 80's. The thought of traveling back in time hasn't occurred to you yet; maybe because it's way more than that.

Series Masterlist

✨Based in an alternative universe, I think the only triggers are that reader is terribly sad in the beginning and is having a hard time remembering things. Slow build. Mention of dad passing away. Word count: 2.9k

A/N: I'm not sure if I will turn this into a series, or if it will stay as a little weird piece floating in the ether 💕 (update: link to part 2 above)

----------

So, there you are, crying in your truck. Not that pretty kind of sniffling where a single tear runs down your cheek and your eyes glisten, but massive, snotty, choking sobs. Gasping, wailing, shoulders bouncing, wringing your hands on the steering wheel. You were crying so hard, you missed your exit. At least, you must have, because the exit numbers jumped from 12 to 14 in the time it took for you to wipe your eyes, mascara stinging, your throat raw. The song playing is full of hopeful love (Melt with You by Modern English) and you scream at the radio like a banshee, scrambling to turn it off.

You slow down and get over to the furthest lane, hands at 10 and 2, eyes squinting, ready to take that exit 15 to Empress Landing Road that your GPS keeps squawking about. The rain is coming down in sheets now, mirroring the tears that have run down your neck and soaked the collar of your gray sweatshirt. You approach the bend and take the exit, winding your way around to a two-way stop sign, and that’s when you lose all of the bars on your phone and a flat message cross the screen says: NO SIGNAL.

“What the hell,” you mutter to yourself, making sure no one is behind you before you reach over to grab your phone and bring it to your face for a closer look. No cell service and no wifi; perfect. Just what you were hoping for on this day of our lord, the worst day of your life. Not the actual worst, but close: when you lost your dad six months ago to cancer, that was the worst. It would all be a walk in the park from there for the rest of your life as far as bad days went.

You keep waiting for your phone to find it’s way back to the network, but you drive a couple miles and still nothing. The windshield wipers are flapping, and your head is throbbing to the beat. It doesn’t make you feel any better to look down and realize you’re almost out of gas and are about two minutes from coasting on Empty. You’ve got seven dollars in your wallet, but then there’s a couple hundred in your checking, and also the emergency credit card with an impressive $500 limit. All of that needs to be stretched out for another week until next payday.

Coming up on your left, you see a sign for “Gary’s Garage” right next to a double garage mechanics shop and a two pump gas station. You’re not sure if you have the luxury of pricing gallons of gas right now, with the way you’re about to be stuck on the side of the road, but out of habit, you check the prices on the sign anyway.

Wait...you try to focus your eyes, thinking maybe you’re seeing things, or perhaps one of the numbers on the sign had fallen off. There is no way gas is 5.7 cents a gallon, that’s insane. You figure maybe someone just put and extra zero in the front, so you hit your blinker and pull over your old truck bouncing down through a large puddle.

The rain shower lets up, thankfully, because there is no awning over where you need to pump your gas. You get out and pause at how old the gas tanks are. Nothing digital, all black and white flip numbers like on those old alarm clocks, and no where to pay outside. After looking at both of the tanks and scratching your head for a good minute or so, you turn to go inside when you see someone walking over from the garage.

He’s about your age, wearing dark gray coveralls that match the color of the overcast sky, long, curly dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and a blue banana on his head. He’s wiping is hands on a rag as his eyes widen at you, getting closer, close enough for you to see that his lips are soft and full, and his eyes are dark but kind.

“This way, follow me,” He tells you, motioning with a twitch of his head, cleaning down between the webs of his fingers as he goes.

You do as he says, in through the glass doors to a small space with two vending machines and a desk with an old fashioned cash register. You notice that the soda machine offers the drink TAB, which is a diet drink you haven’t seen around since you were just a kid. On the window sill behind him, there is a tiny black and white TV the size of a toaster with a vintage daytime soap opera on.

He reaches into a brown lunch sack on the window sill and puts a pretzel into his mouth. “How much do you want?” He asks, the pretzel drying up his mouth so he can’t enunciate as well. He grabs for an open can of Pepsi sitting near the TV to wash it down, and you can see that the creases on the skin of his hands seem to be stained with grease and dirt. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I forgot to eat today.”

“It’s alright,” you see that the name on his coveralls reads: Eddie. “I just realized that I forgot to eat today, too,” you say, putting a hand on your stomach.

His tongue slips along his teeth under his lips to make sure there is no pretzel goo stuck behind as he looks at you, waiting for an answer to his question, but then he pulls a box of tissues out from under the counter and passes it to you.

“You’ve got…” he points to his eyes and makes a circle around one of them, and then points to you. “...from the rain probably but…”

Oh god, no. You realize that you never took a look at your face in the rear view before you got out of the truck. You’re so used to paying at the pump and getting the hell out of there without having to talk to anyone, you weren’t prepared to meet a cute guy in overalls.

“Um, thank you,” you say, self-consciously, sticking the tip of your tongue out to moisten the tissue so that you can wipe under your eyes. You look around and don’t see any type of reflective service to check and see if you got it all, but Eddie assures you:

“You got it,” he says with a wink. And then he stands there waiting, and you forgot what he asked you again, but finally…

“Gas! Right,” you look out at your truck, knowing what a gas guzzler she is. “Do you take debit cards?”

His forehead tightens, not sure he heard you correctly. “We take credit cards, sure.”

He reaches down to the same shelf where the tissue box had been and pulls out an archaic credit card machine that presses the credit card numbers onto the receipt with carbon paper. They haven’t been around in...20 years? Maybe more?

You wonder how this mom and pop, completely analogue service station, has been able to stay in business by keeping everything so simple. He sees that your hand trembles as you look through your wallet, realizing you don’t have the cash you thought you had, and then touching the credit card, trying to do the math in your head.

“We also take trade,” he tells you, matter-of-fact, tapping his finger on the wood table top, as if that’s another world wide form of modern currency.

“Trade?” Your mouth drops open a bit, your eyes shifting around, hoping he doesn’t mean sexual favors. But for him in particular, though, you might consider it.

“If...if you don’t have cash, I mean. You can just give me something in trade for the gas.”

You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “I’m sure your boss wouldn’t like that.”

“How do you know I’m not the boss?” He asks, squaring his shoulders, crossing his arms at his chest, but then a little smirk pulls up one side of his mouth. Slowly, his smile widens, disarmingly, and it helps you to drop your guard.

“God, I’m having the worst day,” you confess to him on an exhale, your shoulders sinking, angry at yourself for feeling tears building in your eyes again. “You ever have one of those days when everything feels off and everything goes wrong?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “I’d say that’s pretty much every other day for me,” he gestures around with his free hand, and then he steadies his eyes on you and nibbles at his lip.

You choke back a sob that is lingering in your throat.

“Listen, what about this,” he is making a little circle on the table with his finger as he talks. “What if I get your gas for you, and then you let me take you to dinner?”

Your head snaps up, your bloodshot eyes meeting his. “Like...a date?”

He shrugs. “Or, just two people eating together. Whichever sounds better to you, princess.”

You inadvertently make a sloshing sound in your throat, jerking back a small spasm of tears. “I have to...I have get back home.”

Eddie’s eyes look momentarily set with sadness, but then he blinks, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Where...where is home?” He asks you

You tilt your head as you try to remember, and it feels like trying to recall the colors of a marble lost down a dark well, never to be seen again. Was it red and green or blue and yellow? Did it have sparkles or was it clear with yellow speckles? You know there are so many possibilities in your brain somewhere, but you can’t find it.

“I..I don’t remember,” you cringe as you say it, placing your hand on your forehead to see if you have a temperature.

You snap your eyes up to his. “Hold on, just a second,” and then you pop open the snap on your wallet, your eyebrows knitting together as you turn it horizontally to grab your driver’s license.

“Wait, it should be right here,” you realize that that your ID isn’t in your wallet, neither are your credit cards or your cash. You spread the folds of your wallet open and shake it out on top of the counter, waiting for things to fall out.

Something yellow softly trembles from one of the slits in your wallet folds, and then flutters to the desk, landing between you and Eddie:

It’s the flattened flower from a daffodil; its the only thing in your wallet.

You and Eddie both stare at the flattened flower, and then Eddie picks it up, bringing it to his nose:

“This,” he raises his eyebrow, pinching it delicately, presenting it out like a prize. “This we can trade for. Daffodils don’t grow here this time of the year. This will get you a full tank.”

***

When you open the door to return to your truck, there are little kids scampering away, and one has your license plates clutched to their chest. All of them have long hair and over sized clothes that don’t fit, and the one with the dirty Hawkins basketball jersey seems to growl at you as they scamper across the road.

“Hey!” You scream. “Give that back!”

You start to head after them, but they are already disappearing into the corn fields and Eddie puts his hand on your arm. “Foreigner plates are always the first to go, sweetheart,” he tells you, as if it should be obvious. “They are worth a lot in trade. I thought I would have time to warn you.”

As your brain is trying to assess the situation, you come back to something he said. “Um...foreigner? Is that what you call someone who lives one state away?”

Eddie opens your gas cap and sticks the nozzle into your tank, and then he gives you a smile that you can’t read. “Which state are you in now, princess?”

“Well,” you rest your thigh against the bumper, forehead creased in thought, reaching one finger up to press thoughtfully against your mouth. There is a huge chunk of your memory, of the past 24 years of your life that you simply cannot recall.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie reaches out and squeezes your arm. He ducks his head down to try and get you to meet his eyes. “I’m sure it will all come back to you.”

“I feel like…” you search his face; it’s familiar in a way that makes you feel comforted, even though he is a stranger. “...like I was upset about something, but now I can’t remember what it was.”

He releases your arm, lifting his chin with a grin. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You just need some food and some rest.”

“Sure, if you say so.” you are bothered, but you also like the feeling of not having anything weigh on your mind. You’re just in this moment, here with Eddie, in this strange place, without any plates on your vehicle.

Eddie pumps your gas for you while you sit with your legs dangling out of the passenger seat to talk to him.

“When you check in at the motel, let Claudia know that you’re a friend of mine, hopefully she’ll give you a deal,” Eddie tells you. But, then he squints, “Mmmmh, or she also might charge you more, depends on her mood.”

“Motel?” You cock you head, confused.

“Oh, well,” Eddie sticks his free hand in his pocket. “I figured you’d be staying at The Grove because it’s the only motel in town.”

You remember a motel, that rings a bell. “Yeah,” you tell him, feeling a little better, like maybe things were coming back to you. “I am staying at a motel. I just forgot the name.”

You reach over to grab your phone so that you can put The Grove Motel into your GPS when you realize it’s not on the dash mount, and you can’t find it anywhere. With a curse, you realize that those kids must’ve taken it. Next to you on the seat is your suitcase, and your overnight back with toiletries and snacks is on the floorboard, and you are grateful they didn’t have time to take those. Your phone was insured for theft, and so you figured you’d just deal with that back at the motel.

“Okay, well, thank you,” you say to Eddie as you shut the heavy metal door to your truck, manually rolling your window down to continue talking with him. “I guess I’ll...see you later? You said that the diner is next door to the motel?”

Eddie nods, wiping his hands again. “It’s just a block away, connected to the bowling alley with the big, neon sign. You can’t miss it.”

He also said he would keep an eye out for your phone (in his head, he’s picturing a handheld landline with a cord, and doesn’t know why you had one in your truck) and your plates, in case anyone tries to trade them for gas or garage services; this happens a lot, apparently. Eddie gave you directions to the motel, which was basically a straight shot a couple miles down the road, and then you waved goodbye out the window as you pulled back onto the highway. You swore you turned the radio off earlier, but the same song Melt with You by Modern English is playing again, and you give it a curious look before turning the dial to find another station. Static and then...Master of Puppets by Metallica...a news story quoting Chief Jim Hopper...strange electric buzzing...the song Running up that hill (make a deal with god) by Kate Bush….more static...and then what sounds like two young kids talking back and forth on their walkie-talkies.

You snap the radio off just in time to make room to pass by 4 young kids hurrying along on their bikes. Ahead of you on the horizon, the sunset glows pink, purple, and orange, and a strange certainty washes over you, assuring you that you’ve been here before.

Eddie stands in the same place, watching you go, excitement and fear gripping his heart. He stuffs the rag into his back pocket and goes to twirl one of the rings on his hand like he normally does, but then he remembers they are all in a dish inside the shop.

A tall, scruffy, older man with a full head of gray hair and a mustache walks over from the garage to stand next to him. He’s in a pair of jeans with a dark blue, button-down shirt that has “Gary” embroidered on the pocket.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Another one,” Gary says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie nods his head, silently, squinting as tiny flecks of raindrops hit his face, watching your brake lights tap as you pass a group of kids.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” Eddie says, biting his cheek in thought. “Just like the others.”

“She will,” Gary assures him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “When the time is right, it will all come back to her. Poor thing.”

[littlerat2]

Premonitions

Chapter 1: Blood and Ash

WARNINGS: Blood, death, nightmares. I think that's it? But! As always, please lemme know if I should add any others :)

Summary: The start of something horrible.

AO3

Words: 507

Author's Note: Thank you so much to @logan-the-artist for beta reading this fic for me! This is quite short. For that I apologize, however the chapters to come should be longer! I will probably be quite slow updating this, but i promise I will update it eventually. If that ever changes, I will be sure to let y'all know! <3

“I warned you,” Virgil started, shaking his head and blinking back tears. He kneeled beside the bloodsoaked prince, taking his head in his lap. “I said loving me would get you killed.” He tried to bark out a bitter laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

Roman just offered a bloody, but genuine smile. “Wasn’t it worth it, though?” Though his eyelids drooped, and his chest heaved out ragged breaths, he looked like there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Nothing is worth losing you,” Virgil whispered shakily. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at Roman’s perfect, bloody lips curled in such a sweet smile. He couldn’t watch his cloudy, green eyes drift over his figure. He couldn’t watch Roman die.

He broke down sobbing into Roman’s shoulder as he clutched him close to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry.” He pulled back to look at Roman’s face, and Roman took this as an opportunity to wipe his tears away with a shaky hand. His blood colored Virgil’s pale cheek crimson.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not! You-you’re gonna die!” He pressed his forehead to Roman’s. “I told you this was dangerous. I-I knew it was. But I let you get close anyway. God, I-... Roman, I-I’m so sorry,” he wept. His lungs burned, both with the panic of losing Roman, and the ash that quickly got swept up into his lungs. They sat alone in a burnt building. When did they get there? Virgil may have known at some point, but right now he didn’t remember. He didn’t care. All that mattered right now was the man rapidly dying in his arms.

“If I could go back,” Roman heaved. “I’d do everything the same.”

“You’re- you’re dying, Roman! It’s not-”

“I got to meet you,” Roman said with a grin. “I got to love you.” With shaking hands, he pulled Virgil’s body closer to his own. “I love you so much, Virgil. Tell Remus I love him. Patton and Logan too. You’ll be okay. All of you-”

“Stop it, Roman! Stop! You’re- you’re accepting it! You can’t- Just- hold on. I-I can-” Virgil choked on his words, the thick, ash-filled air filling his lungs with every breath.

“You can’t stay here. There’s nothing you can do,” Roman said softly. “Tell my stories. All of them. I don’t- I don’t care what you have to do, just… Get 'em out there.” He smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you.”

Virgil watched as the light faded from Roman’s emerald eyes as he exhaled. Clutching the dead man to his chest, he wailed. All color and life draining from his world.

“I love you too,” he sobbed. “I loved you so, so much, Roman. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sniffling, Virgil set the dead man’s head in his lap, brushing aside chestnut strands of hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

Then, he woke up. Sun shining on his face, and the still-breathing body of his boyfriend beside him.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please send an ask! :3

[triptychgrip]

Chapter 3 preview of Put It In Reverse For Thirst: my story about married Viktuuri writing a role-reversal fanfic

I love writing established Viktuuri stories, as it's a way for me to envision how comfortable Viktor and Yuuri would have grown with one another through the years, post-canon. I've especially had a blast writing this meta story, 'Put It In Reverse For Thirst', which is the cringy title that Yuuri and Viktor give the role-reversal fanfic that they write and then proceed to roleplay.

The premise of their fic is one where 23-year-old Viktor Nikiforov has just finished performing Eros in competition for the first time, after a year-and-a-half of working with his coach/idol: retired "Living Legend" Katsuki Yuuri.

And though Viktor gives the program a stellar debut, he's confused as to why Yuuri is so reticent in the Kiss and Cry. In misinterpreting the literal waves of sexual tension emanating from his coach, he believes that Yuuri is embarrassed by his performance. When he proceeds to confront him over his hurt feelings, their subsequent conversation takes a very sappy (and steamy) turn, which, of course, makes for a dynamic roleplay situation.

Chapter 3 might be my favorite to write so far, as it'll contain the extremely sappy love confession (which, of course, makes real life Viktuuri emotional when they're reading it). I wanted to post a preview, below -- FYI, anything in brackets with big spaces before and after is their fanfic, to distinguish from their 'real life' conversation -- which I hope piques your interest.

I hope you'll consider checking this story out, or my other Yuri!!! on Ice work!

---------

[Knowing what he knew now, that he must have seemed so diametrically opposite to what Yuuri had been expecting, which was the charismatic and gregarious Viktor Nikiforov in those banquet photos…

Well, the subsequent realization stole his breath. 

Because it meant that Yuuri had seen him at his very worst, fully in the throes of his grief and depression, and had chosen to keep coaching him, anyway. Indeed, to keep coaching him long after the parameters of their relationship began to change, and once Viktor gradually found his way back to himself. 

Did that mean what he hoped it did…what his hammering heart so fervently yearned for?  

That somewhere along the way, that Yuuri had grown to realize that he needed Viktor, too? And, that just as Viktor’s heart grew ten sizes every time he opened up and discovered that Yuuri [Y: his Yusha] would meet him where he was, that perhaps it was the same for him, in turn?]

Viktor knew he’d failed to hide his sniffling when Yuuri paused to hug him (for what felt like the seven thousandth time, tonight). 

“S-sorry, Yusha,” he whispered, actually having to bring a hand up to his mouth to try and quell the noise. “I guess the floodgates have really opened up.”

“Silly, what is there to be sorry for?” his spouse asked in reply, sounding equally choked up. “As if I could ever be upset with you for being so moved by anything, but especially this? It might be a role-reversal, but this is still our story.”

Viktor nodded, expelling a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob, his embarrassment vanishing when he observed the way that Yuuri’s eyes were similarly brimming over with feeling. 

“I think we should update our tags,” he tearily mumbled, happily rising from his seat when he saw how Yuuri had scooted his chair back and extended his arm out in invitation. “After the ‘Men Crying’ tag, we could write in ‘and you might, too, if we did this right’.”

His husband made a sniffly noise of assent and tugged him onto his lap.

“Excellent idea, Vitya,” he affirmed, before encircling an arm around his waist and trying to coax him to rest his head against his chest.

“Can you take this off?” Viktor asked, tugging at the lapel of his suit jacket. “I don’t want to get snot and tears on it.”

Yuuri just gave him a knowing smile before doing as he’d asked, and he knew that he’d been found out; it always made him feel more grounded when he could listen to Yuuri’s heartbeat. As he lost himself to the steady thud in his ear, they both tried to compose themselves. 

His love returned to reading a few minutes later, propping the current page of their draft in between two paperweights so that he could still hold onto him with both arms.

[“It’s suddenly very obvious to me why you came after seeing the video Georgi uploaded, but why did you let me stay in Hasetsu, afterwards?” Viktor shakily demanded, stepping out of Yuuri’s blissful hold. 

“The Viktor Nikiforov that you danced with at the banquet, the one that made you feel alive…that’s the version of me you were looking for when you first came to St. Petersburg and then arranged for me to come back with you to Japan.”

It was a statement, not a question. As he looked into his coach’s bottomless gaze, he dared not read into the burgeoning softness in it.]

[chaotic-super]

Live With Me - Chapter 13

Read it on AO3 here!

Upon Lucy’s guidance, Lena is taking Kara home. She doesn’t think it’s going to help anyone if she stays at CatCo because honestly, there’s nothing Kara can do there. She can’t work on any new articles until her name has been cleared, a task that Cat is currently working on.

Kara is sitting silently in the passenger seat while Lena drives, her face obscured from her so she can’t see the forlorn look she’s got going on because she’s all too aware of how much Lena hates seeing her sad. Lena can sense it though, she knows she can because whenever it’s safe to do so, she reaches over and rests her hand on her thigh, just above her knee as though to remind Kara she’s doing it to comfort her, not to hint to anything else, not that Kara would have thought that anyway but it’s little things like this that make her realize just how lucky she is to have Lena fighting in her corner each and every day.

 “I know we’ll probably figure it all out and I know we have a really good team but this one scares me," Kara admits, her voice so quiet Lena has to strain to hear it.

There’s only one appropriate and truthful response. “It scares me too. Terrifies me actually.”

Kara finally turns her head towards Lena and lets her see her tear-stained cheeks. “Before, they took my home, my privacy, my safety, a lot of things. Now they’ve taken my reputation and my name. There’s not much more for them to take and I can’t have them take you, Lena. I would die.”

“Nobody is taking either of us from each other. I would fight every last one of them to the death before I let that happen, darling. I love you too much.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Lena holds Kara’s hand tightly in her own pulling it to rest on her own thigh so Kara can keep a grip on her even when she has to let go of it to drive safely. “I will always be with you and I will always protect you, no matter what.”

“I love you.” Kara’s words come out wet, broken almost, yet decisive.

“I love you,” Lena says, the truest words ever spoken.

-

Lena bundles Kara up on the couch with some random documentary set on the TV for them to use as background noise. Both of their phones are on the coffee table in front of them, both facing up with their ringers on so they can hear them when they inevitably get calls to update them on their situation. For now though, they just have to wait. At least cuddling on a couch in a mess of blankets isn’t the worst way to wait for news that could hit them like a bullet to the brain.

Kara is clinging to Lena like she might disappear at any moment and periodically sniffles. Lena can’t help but think that it’s about time she gave in and let herself be something other than brave. Even when she was in the hospital, she was too busy being brave to admit to her true feelings, the fear she must have felt, is still feeling. It’s all toppled her over the edge now though, she’s there.

She’s tucked into Lena’s side, her cheek pressed to her shirt and her chest heaving as she tries to control her sobs that just won’t stop no matter how hard she tries.

Lena’s heart is breaking. She can feel the rhythmic movement in Kara’s shoulders as she cries silently and the way she’s pressing herself into her side with such force. There’s nothing she can do at this exact moment that could make her feel better because what’s out there is out there now, they can’t go back in time and stop Snapper from doing what he did, no matter how much they wish that were possible.

One phone lights up and plays a cheery little tune that is far too happy for the situation followed by the other phone and both of them launch themselves forward so they can grab their respective phone. They almost fall off the couch completely since their legs are tucked beneath them but luckily, Kara manages to slip one foot free that stabilizes the entwined pair.

Their brief panic about falling flat on their faces is pushed aside quickly in favour of reading the new message that’s sitting on both of their phones from Alex.

Cat is calling an emergency press conference in two hours. You’re welcome to come or to stay home, no pressure. She’s telling the whole story and then releasing the original article on the CatCo website for all to see.

Lena peers over at Kara’s screen to see if she got the same message too. “What do you think?”

Kara sighs, pushing her phone back onto the coffee table. “I think that if we go we’ll be a zoo exhibit for everyone to stare at.”

Lena doesn’t follow Kara’s lead with the phone, she keeps hers firmly in her hand so she can respond to Alex’s message. “We can just watch it from here, it will be on pretty much every news channel there is anyway.”

Kara nods. “Yeah, I don’t think it would serve us well to go, besides, I don’t want to be in a crowded area out where anyone could try and kill me again. Do you?”

At the very thought, Lena’s eyes grow wide. “I hadn’t even thought about that. You’re not leaving the house, in fact, I think I’m going to wrap you up in bubble wrap and keep you tucked here where nothing can ever hurt you.”

“As lovely as that sounds, that’s also kind of creepy.”

Lena’s nose scrunches up adorably. “Yeah, I guess it is. We’ll settle for blankets then.” Lena tucks the blanket around them a little better from where it slipped from them moving to get their phones. “I’ll let Alex know we’re staying here.”

“Thank you.”

Lena kisses her forehead in lieu of a response, glad to see that the tears have slowed to nothing and her cheeks are finally drying.

Kara makes a point of focusing on the TV screen, watching as they are shown a pyramid in a shot that was obviously taken by a drone by the high angles and swooping shot. It’s impressive. Two hours is a long time when you’re waiting for something so she’s set to keep her ass parked here and just mindlessly watch this documentary that actually looks kind of interesting.

As for Lena, she doesn’t care where she is as long as she gets to stay by Kara’s side. It seems as though every time it seems as though the whole mess of a situation can’t get worse, it somehow finds a way, the goalposts moving every time they are almost at the end. It’s impossible for them to come up with a reasonable way to end this.

-

They wander back to the couch, a cup of hot tea each in hand. Kara was going to go and make it alone but Lena refused to leave her side, not that she was admitting that, she just offered to help and refused to take no for an answer. Kara could see right through it but she certainly wasn’t going to complain, nothing makes her feel safer than when she’s with Lena. She’s always been her home, the place she’s most comfortable, now, she’s just spending as much time at home as she can, letting the warmth calm her.

The TV is switched to the news so they can be ready to see the press conference live. They still have a few minutes so Kara sends a quick message to Cat to wish her good luck and apologize for not being there in person.

Cat totally ignores the apology but does respond to the message.

Only talentless people require luck.

“I don’t think we need to worry too much, Cat’s in fine form.” Kara tilts her phone screen towards Lena so she can see the message.

Lena snickers. “Good, let’s see if she can use her Cat Grant charm to win a few people over.”

“Normally, I’d say that she’s going to ace this but she’s going up against the government, that’s a huge undertaking that might be too much for even her.”

“I think that if there’s anyone that can go up against the government, it’s her.”

Kara hums. “Probably. It’s still a massive undertaking though.”

Lena sips her tea this is still way too hot and burns the tip of her tongue. She grunts at the searing pain. “Ow, that’s hot, don’t drink it yet.” She places her cup down. “You’re right though, it is a massive undertaking.”

Their attention is grabbed by the news anchor on the TV as they start talking about the article and the press conference.

“A shocking article was released by CatCo magazine, specifically written by the CEO Cat Grant, and it was one shocking story of a reporter abusing their power in the press to get their partner, a very prominent CEO, the head of L-Corp, ahead. We’re going to be diving into the full story so stay tuned.”

“Well, that’s not a good start.”

“They’ll change their minds once Cat has spoken. They can’t hold her to words she never wrote and she’s going to publish the actual article too so they will see the truth.”

Kara frowns, her lips pulled down and her eyebrows furrowed low. “As long as they don’t see the truth and assume it’s not just some elaborate cover-up and they assume that Cat is in on it, effectively ruining her reputation and her career too, oh god, I can’t let her do this.”

Lena grabs Kara’s hands as soon as she starts frantically searching through the mess of blankets to try and find her phone so she can call Cat and try and talk her out of speaking, not that it would do any good because Cat would probably tell her to shut up and leave her alone but because Kara is getting herself panicked and it’s not going to help.

“Stop, she won’t change her mind. She knows the risks, Kara and you know that she’s not just doing it for you. She’s doing it because above all else, Cat values journalistic integrity and the pursuit of the truth. She’s not going to let someone publish lies under her name so we just have to sit back and let her do her thing. It’s all we can do.” Lena finds her phone first and moves it aside so she can’t grab at it.

“But—”

“No, no buts. We have to let Cat handle this one.”

Kara’s lips pull down so low that Lena has to stop herself from laughing at how much she looks like Grumpy Cat, it’s adorable.

“I’m nervous,” Kara admits. “I’m so scared of what’s going to come from this press conference and I know that I shouldn’t care what people think of me but the thought of so many people hating me and thinking I set this whole thing up just to help you get ahead with L-Corp makes me really uncomfortable.”

Lena leans her head against Kara’s. “That’s normal, darling. It upsets me to think about all the people that hate me just because of my family name and I know that I shouldn’t care what people think but it still hurts. It’s perfectly normal to want people to like you and it’s perfectly ok to be feeling what you’re feeling.”

Kara’s face is scrunched as she’s deep in thought, only smoothed out when her attention is grabbed by the press conference starting.

Together, they track Cat’s movements across the stage, barely blinking all the while. She stands up behind the podium looking ten feet tall, just radiating pure confidence, her face a show of rage and frustration, something a lot of the press they can see are clearly taking note of, some of them even looking afraid.

Cat doesn’t answer a single question that is being thrown her way, instead, she starts off with a speech explaining exactly what happened starting with the article that was published, the way it was changed and then released, and then the true story. She doesn’t pay attention to the people calling her a liar or even the people cheering for her, she just announces that the true article will be published in due course and then leaves the stage, letting everyone left there sit in the aftermath of the bombshell she just dropped on them.

“Well, I have to give it to her, that woman certainly knows how to give a speech.” Lena mumbles.

“Damn. I’ve seen her give a great number of speeches and talk at an ungodly number of conferences but that was one of her best.” Kara mumbles.

The screen changed from showing the podium to flickering back to the news anchors sitting behind a desk. They look dumbfounded and one is fidgeting with a stack of papers in front of them, smoothing them out and making sure they are all lined up.

“Well, that was quite the story, let’s discuss the two sides of the story.” One announces and Lena shuts off the TV.

“I don’t think we need to watch this now. Drink your tea and let’s wait for any word from our people over at CatCo.”

Kara leans over to get her phone from the other side of Lena. “Or we could just call—”

“Nope.” Lena moves it further away. “They have a lot on their plates. We either wait for them to call us or we go back to the office so you can see what happens first-hand.”

Kara grabs her cup, downs the contents in one go and stands up. “Get that booty moving then, I want to see how it all plays out so let’s head back to CatCo.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Lena replies, her face the epitome of unamused.

Kara drags her up, pressing her cup into her hand to drink. It’s still slightly too hot but at least this time it doesn’t burn her mouth.

Before Lena can stop her, Kara is rushing upstairs to the bathroom to freshen up, probably so she can fix her eyeliner which is smudged from where she was crying earlier. It’s pretty obvious that she’s skipping back to the Kara that is burying herself back into her work rather than letting herself get caught in the riptide of despair.

Lena trudges after her, walking in as Kara is reapplying her makeup, her hands steady and her breathing even. If Lena didn’t know better, she’d think that Kara is the most put-together person on the planet. “Hey, we don’t have to, you know? We can just stay in and not think about any of it for the rest of the day.”

“No,” Kara says firmly. “I need to do this. I need to be there and fighting for myself and for the truth. I can’t leave this unfinished.”

“Have I ever told you how brave, kind and admirable I think you are?” Lena’s eyes are soft as they bore into Kara’s through the mirror as she looks over her shoulder and sweeps her pretty blonde hair to one side. She presses a single kiss to the space between her neck and her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” Kara smiles, tilting her head to one side as Lena’s chin comes to rest on her shoulder.

“Well, I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most admirable and loving person I’ve ever met and I love you.” Lena presses chaste kisses to her cheek.

Kara turns her head enough to look her in the eye without using the mirror. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken; I believe you’re the person on the planet with the best of those attributes. I love you too though.”

Lena giggles. “I’ll agree to disagree. Now, come on, shift your butt, let’s get going.”

Kara rolls her eyes and finishes up, letting Lena pull her by her hand all the way to the car and huffing when she has to let go so they can get inside. Once they are on their way, Kara calls ahead to Alex so they can come into the building through the back since the whole front side of CatCo is littered with reporters, a sight that is kind of strange given that it’s literally a media company, how they think they’ll get a comment from them knowing that they are professionals in the business is crazy.

Nia is waiting for them just inside and snaps the door closed behind them as soon as they are through it so nobody can sneak inside or follow them. “Are you guys ok?”

“We will be,” Kara answers. “Is everyone upstairs?”

“Yeah, they have sort of made basecamp in your office since it’s the most private. Sorry about that.” Nia looks kind of awkward telling them that.

Kara starts up the stairs. They have to get up a couple of flights before they can get to the elevators. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Come on.”

It might only be a couple of flights of stairs but all three of them are breathing heavily by the time they are up them and unfortunately for them, they don’t get the elevator to themselves, a few of their co-workers also heading up to the bullpen too.

They side-eye them, not saying a word, and it makes them a little awkward but Kara gets it, she’d probably be doing the same thing if this happened to someone else in the office. It’s a very strange thing to happen and there are no set rules for how someone should respond to it, it does sting a little anyway though.

Once they shuffle out of the elevator and through the bullpen, they see looks of confusion and pity being thrown their way from every direction but nobody says a word to them, there are a few whispers between desks but that’s it. They head up to Kara’s office, letting themselves in to be greeted by Cat glaring at them for entering without permission before realizing who it is.

“Oh, so you have returned. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I felt like I should be here. This is my fight as much as it is yours, Ms Grant.”

Cat hums thoughtfully. “I guess it is.”

Kara nods firmly and looks around at the three other people she has yet to greet, Winn, Alex and Lucy. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey,” Alex calls out, patting the empty seat beside her since she can’t sit in her own office chair because Cat is there and is obviously not about to move for her. “Come sit.”

Kara does as she’s told, nodding to the chair opposite her and beside Lucy for Lena to sit down too, which she does, daintily crossing her legs and placing her purse down beside her in a manner totally different from the way she so carelessly snuggled up to her on the couch earlier, her badass CEO façade in place to show that she means business.

“So, where are we at?” Kara asks.

“Well, we’ve hit another brick wall,” Alex replies carefully. “We’re trying to gather as much proof as we can because while we’ve persuaded a lot of people that we’re telling the truth, just as many people are calling for more information because of who we’re fighting. Not a lot of people want to believe that you’re being targeted and given your family, Lena, people really want to believe that you’re doing some shady shit on the side.”

“That’s not surprising.” Lena sighs. “I better make a couple of calls to L-Corp and make sure I’ve got my bases covered there.”

“You can use the office I’ve been using in the legal department, come on, I’ll show you where it is.” Lucy offers, standing to direct Lena there.

Lena looks over her shoulder at Kara, asking her a silent question.

“I’ll be fine. Go.” Kara sends her what she hopes to be a reassuring smile.

Lena smiles at her, nodding. “Ok, I won’t be long.”

Cat groans the second the door shuts behind them. “The pair of you are disgusting.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, understanding the statement for what it is, a comment on how openly they love each other and the levels of love there are between them.

“Mmhmm. Now onto business. We no longer have the footage of Snapper breaking into your office.” Cat’s eyes go cold. “Witt’s computer thingy was wiped clean remotely.”

Winn pipes up. “It’s Winn and it was my hard drive. Do you still have the USB drive?”

“Yeah, I hid it.” Kara shrugs. “It’s best it stays hidden until we actually need it because if they can wipe data remotely, we don’t want to plug it into a computer that can get hacked at any second.”

“Good point.” Winn mumbles. “I can probably secure a computer but it will take me a long time to do. My laptop at home is pretty secure but would still need more protections, this is the government we’re talking about, not just some newbie hacker.”

“I actually might know someone that can help.” Nia pipes up.

All eyes turn to Nia, the woman standing beside the door looking skittish, her fingers laced together in front of her.

Kara tilts her head curiously. “Who?”

Nia shrugs. “My boyfriend.”

Cat tuts, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t think your boyfriend is going to be of any help, Bambi. Your pretty brown eyes might get him to help you download Netflix onto your laptop for you but I doubt he can prevent the government from hacking into our data.”

Nia clears her throat and looks down at her shoes. “Actually, he works in IT…for the government. His entire job is protecting computers from hackers.”

Cat jumps to her feet. “Why didn’t you say so? Get him here now.”

Nia startles and for a second, Kara thinks she’s about to jump two metres in the air from the shock of Cat’s sudden movements but she just fumbles with her phone and skedaddles out of the room just as Lucy returns.

“Some people sit on their resources for far too long.” Cat mutters, sitting back down. “Lucy, what is our current status with the public?”

Lucy looks down at the tablet in her lap that she’s been using to track the outcome of the press conference. “Well, it looks like people are slowly being swayed, especially by the fact that the article was in your name and you were the one to renounce it but there are still sceptics. There’s a lot of people crying out for proof though so we need to get Nia’s boyfriend on the case as soon as we can because the longer we take, the more people will get sceptical of our story.”

Alex breathes out heavily, drawing everyone’s attention, at which point she looks around confused. “What?”

“You’re being all huffy,” Kara answers.

“Well sorry being worried about my sister being framed for something she didn’t do.” Alex snaps before letting her shoulders sink. “Sorry, I just don’t know how to help you.”

“I know.” Kara leans into her side, wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulders. “Why don’t you take a break? Maybe call Kelly?”

“Don’t try and use my girlfriend against me.”

Kara holds her hands up. “I’m not, I just thought it might put you in a better mood.” Alex frowns and her grumpiness is evident to everyone. “Just go. Maybe stop by a vending machine and get me a snack on your way back too.”

“Fine.” Alex leaves, her feet being extra stompy.

“Your sister is a piece of work.” Cat comments.

“I know. She’s great.”

Cat lets out a non-committal grunt and Lucy hides her snickers behind her hand. Kara is oblivious to their reactions, her focus shifting to some random puzzle game she has on her desk. She picks it up and plays with it for a few minutes while Cat types away at her laptop doing god knows what and while Lucy scrolls through comment after comment about everything that’s going on, screenshotting certain ones every now and again.

The soft melody of Cat’s fingers across her keyboard helps Kara to relax, the sound on the verge of prompting her to close her eyes and take a nap where she’s sitting, something she’d never be allowed to live down if she did. “Is there anything I can do?” She questions after a while. “Maybe I can help Lucy with tracking the public’s reactions?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. “Lucy clutches the tablet to her chest; somehow afraid Kara will be able to see the screen even when she’s halfway across the room. “Not all of the comments are nice, Kara.”

“Oh.”

Cat sighs. “If you want to be helpful then go and get the articles to be approved for tomorrow’s issue, I have only got so much time to keep this damn company going and we can’t falter on our publishing schedule, even with a missing, traitorous editor-in-chief. You’ve seen me do them thousands of times, you can help me complete them so tomorrow’s issue comes out as normal.”

Kara’s eyes light up. This isn’t just a job that will allow her to keep herself busy, this is the kind of job she’s watched Cat do countless times when she was her assistant, the kind of job Cat did herself most of the time because she scarcely trusts anyone else to do. Even with Snapper as her editor-in-chief, she would still often go over everything that had been approved and even some that were rejected so she can make her own decisions. Sure, she’s going to do it under Cat’s watchful eye but all the same, it’s a privilege.

She can’t help but think it’s born out of pity but honestly, she’s just so happy to be able to play a part that she can’t even find it in her to care so she rushes off to go and get the markups.

“Lucy, go with her.” Cat demands, not looking up from her screen.

Lucy would argue because she’s a lawyer, not an assistant but she’s being paid really quite well and well, she does care about Kara a tiny bit. That and Lois would kill her if she ever found out she wasn’t treating her husband’s little cousin right, so she stands up, drops her tablet on the chair she just vacated and speed-walks after her.

Kara flits between offices, gathering the articles that had been left on Snapper’s old desk. It seems that nobody knows where to put them so they have just been piling them there. There are a lot of them but that just means she gets to stay busy for longer so she cracks a tiny smile as she takes them.

As she’s coming out of the office, she sees a few people side-eyeing her, probably because she’s holding their articles when at the minute, a lot of people don’t even trust her with her own, but she ignores them, even jauntily waving at a couple of people that aren’t giving her the stink eye.

She gets a couple of waves in return, even winning a couple of people over with her kind eyes and natural charm. It’s as though people were expecting her to have gone full evil supervillain or something.

Lucy stays a few steps away from Kara, just watching as everyone on the floor eyes Kara up curiously, all of them trying to figure her out and being unable to. She does find it amusing to see Kara make them go from suspicious to subdued in just a fraction of a second though, it’s unlike anything she’s seen in a while. If she ever had to defend her in court, Kara is the kind of person that could win over a jury easily, not that she wants to see Kara having to defend herself in court, she’s too pure for that.

Kara heads right back to her office where Cat has moved her laptop to one side of the desk so Kara can perch on the other side of it with enough space to put the articles down, which she does and grabs a pen, getting right to work reading each one and separating them into piles of which are good to go, which are good if they have a few edits, which aren’t good enough to print and which are maybes.

The task works wonders in taking Kara’s mind off of everything well because she’s so focused on trying to make sure she does a good job. It works so well, in fact, that she barely registers Lena returning and sitting down just behind her until her hands are on her shoulders, just a light weight to announce her presence.

Kara recognises the gesture, it’s the same one she uses when she’s making breakfast in the morning with her earphones in so she doesn’t wake Lena up with her daily pump-up playlist that consists of a lot of Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys.

“Hey, everything ok at work?”

Lena opens her mouth to speak but then snaps it closed when she sees Cat tuck her hair behind her ears and peer at her. “I’ll tell you later.”

Cat rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say is off the record.” She waves her hand at them, unhooking her hair from her ears and setting her sights back on her work.

Kara looks between them, squinting at Cat for a moment before nodding to Lena to say that it’s safe for her to talk.

“L-Corp is in the shit,” Lena says bluntly. “It’s not looking good for us with everything that has happened, a lot of investors believe the fake article but luckily, I have a good legal team of my own which means that we can go for Lucas Carr ourselves and because CatCo isn’t at fault, he is, we can go after him directly without dragging CatCo through a horrendous legal battle, one that will go over better if a certain CEO would back us in our defamation lawsuit.”

“Whatever you need, it will help clear CatCo of any wrongdoing too. CatCo can’t sue any employees, it’s part of the contract, but there’s nothing saying I can’t be called as a witness, right Lucy?”

“Yep.” Lucy pops the ‘p’, barely listening, registering the words only after she’s responded, “I mean, I’ll have to look into it, get the whole legal team involved, but most likely, yes.”

Kara and Lena share a look and Kara cracks a smile. “A lawsuit proving that what he did was nothing more than defamation would be a great way to clear both of our names.”

“Sounds like a win-win to me.” Lena smiles, bumping her shoulder into Kara’s. “Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m going through articles for tomorrow’s issue.”

“Isn’t this usually done a couple of days in advance?”

“Well, as you can imagine, Ms Luthor, when one of your star reporters is framed as being corrupt, it can mess up a schedule.” Cat snipes, her tone sharp.

Lena clears her throat uncomfortably. “Right, ok.”

Winn sneezes loudly from the corner where he’s been huddled up on his computer and it makes all of them jump, his presence forgotten because of how quiet he’s been. He pulls his earphones out and looks up apologetically. “Sorry.”

Cat waves him off and he meekly sinks back into his chair, trying to go back to when he was practically invisible just as he was before. He’s working on trying to figure out how his computer was wiped. He’s pretty good at hacking but whoever it was that got into his data must be some god-level robot of a person. It’s kind of scary actually.

“So, what are we doing about the problem at hand?” Lena asks, a little confused by how quickly everyone goes back to what they are doing.

“Waiting for Nia to come back with her boyfriend. He’s a government hacker person, he’s going to protect a computer so we can plug in the USB with the proof of Snapper being an asshole into it without it being wiped like Winn’s computer was.”

Lena feels like she’s five steps behind them but nods, just accepting that she doesn’t really have a clue what’s going on. “Ok, I guess I’ll just work on some emails then.”

Kara encourages her to do that with a smile and a gentle rest of her head against Lena’s shoulder before she gets back to what she’s doing again.

-

Nia walks in with a smallish-looking guy with thick brown hair strolling in right behind her. “This is my boyfriend, Brainy.”

He waves at them; his movements are stilted and odd. “Querl Dox, my friends call me Brainy.”

“You’re an odd little man.” Cat states. “You can protect a computer?”

“I can.”

Lena looks between him and Nia. “Are you sure we can trust him? He works for the government, right?”

Nia doesn’t get a chance to stick up for Brainy because the man is speaking up for himself. “I can assure you that while I work for the government, I have no part in any schemes, I offer my services to you because I have a great deal of care for Nia Nal.”

“You…right. Ok?” Lena doesn’t have a clue what to make of that but while he is kind of weird, Nia is looking at him the same way she looks at Kara so whatever, he can give it a go.

“Which computer would you like me to protect?”

“Winn?” Kara calls out, rolling her eyes when his eyes remain fixed on his screen. “Winn?”

Brainy points to Winn’s computer. “This one?”

“Uh, yeah, that one, I think,” Kara confirms and flinches when without another word, Brainy walks over to Winn and snatches the computer right out of his hands.

He jumps up, ready to chase after Brainy. “Woah! What are you doing?”

“I am protecting your computer.” Brainy states bluntly. “May I have a desk to sit at?”

Kara looks around. They really need more desks to work with. They can easily fit three in here. It’ll be a squeeze but they can manage it. “Yeah, hey, Lena, want to come and find some desks to move in here with me?”

Lena looks up from her phone. “Yep, just let me finish this email.” Her thumbs work frantically, tip-tapping against the screen for a few long moments before she sends off the email. “Ok, I’m all yours.”

Together, Kara and Lena go off in search of more desks. There are plenty of chairs so they just need two desks, which shouldn’t be too difficult, there’s one in Kara’s old office that’s still empty so they can just go and grab that one to start with.

As they reach her old office and squeeze inside, taking the few boxes of old files and things that are apparently being stored in here now off of the top of the desk, Lena asks, “I’m not sure about that Brainy guy, what do you think?”

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to judge anyone given that I was friends with James and worked closely with Snapper on multiple occasions and had no idea about anything they were doing.”

“You shouldn’t hold that against yourself, you’re not the only one that didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see it, Winn didn’t, even Cat didn’t and she’s Cat motherfucking Grant.”

Kara snorts. “Don’t let her hear you calling her that.”

Lena shrugs, “It’s fifty-fifty on whether or not she’d love it or hate it.”

“Probably…I think Brainy seems alright.”

“Me too.” Lena smiles. “I’m hopeful.”

“I’m trying to be hopeful too.”

Read the next chapter early on my Patreon here!

[stardustbarbarians]

Cirice

Chapter 1 (ch. 2)

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader series

Summary: You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire.

Tags: Demon!Daniel, angst, Catholic imagery, humor

Trigger Warnings: Injury, hospitals, blood

A/N: Big shout out to @t00turnttrauma for helping me out with this fic as well as just genuinely being one of my favorite people <3. Also dedicating this to @samkooszka and I hope this makes your day better after working in hell all day. Title taken from Ghost’s Cirice. This will be a pretty dark fic, but more along the lines of a dark comedy. That being said, I'm so sorry Jakey. Anyway, please enjoy!!

Words: 3.8 k

+++

It had been a normal day… 

That’s how these stories typically are meant to start, right? That everything was normal and peachy keen and then on a dime the world shifted beneath us all like a magnitude 9 earthquake? Well, while the earth did feel like it was collapsing around us that day, it was far from normal… 

“Someone call 911!!” came Josh’s frantic scream as he raced over to his twin, all but ripping the seatbelt off of himself. Jake’s wails of pain rang throughout the warehouse of the racing strip, everyone freezing as the reality of the situation hadn’t fully set in. 

You sat on the side of the track and watched as Josh struggled to free Jake from the rolled over go kart he was pinned under. You couldn’t move. You didn’t know how to in that moment. 

“For the love of god, help me!!” At Josh’s desperate plea, Danny and Sam finally left their karts and assisted in rolling Jake’s kart back to its upright position. They all gasped as they saw Jake’s left hand, all disfigured and already bruising. It had been pinned under the kart, all 170 lbs of it - not including Jake’s own body weight. 

Tears were streaming down the guitarist’s cheeks as he tried to move it, unwilling to see the damage as he pinched his eyes shut. That was the most painful part of the entire experience. Jake already knew something was wrong long before anyone else. 

He had been rushed to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived, Josh riding along with him in the emergency vehicle. You, Danny, and Sam all drove together to the emergency room. It had been dead silent in that car. The only noise that could be heard was the occasional sniffle from one of you three. 

When you finally arrived, Josh was pacing in the waiting room. Upon spotting you, he threw his arms around you and cried. He informed you that Jake had been rushed into emergency surgery in order to try and set his broken bones. You could feel your heart sink and your blood run cold as the information sank in. Not knowing what to say in order to comfort one of your best friends, you simply wrapped your arms around him tighter and let him sob into your shoulder. 

It had seemed like an eternity while all four of you waited to hear any word about Jake. You watched as the boys all slowly unraveled around you, all going through the varying stages of grief. It didn’t take a psychic to know what they were all three were thinking about. Sam was pacing back and forth and gouging a rut into the floor, his brow never unfurrowing and making him look older than he was. Daniel wouldn’t stop shifting in his seat, often being the one to go up and ask the front desk about any updates on Jake. Josh sat completely motionless in his chair as the grief and worry over his twin paralyzed him.

Finally, after hours of agonizing worry, one of the surgeons came out to tell them that the surgery was a success and that he was asking for them. Josh immediately ran to Jake’s room as soon as he heard the number, everyone else following behind. You walked in to see a weak and pale Jake hooked up to machines, gazing tearfully at his twin brother talking to him. You felt as if you wanted to throw up seeing him like that. It was wrong, Jake had always been so lively and vivacious and now he was struggling to keep a neutral face. No matter how much he tried to school his lips out of a grimace, you could see the anger burning fiercely in his eyes. 

“Hey, Jakey,” you tenderly greet, very sheepishly slipping into the room and in front of his view. His gaze moved over to you, the unfettered rage pinning you in place before he blinked it away. Those beautiful brown eyes returned to normal, looking pained and tired more than angry anymore. 

He looked over to see Danny and Sam huddled to the left side of him. It was clear they were trying to not look too obviously at his bandaged hand. “Welcome to my humble abode for the time being, glad you all got my invitations.” 

It felt inappropriate to laugh, but you knew it would make him feel better. He sent you a small smile at the sound of your giggling. 

“So, what’s the news? How are you doing?” Sammy asked, his voice breaking with concern. 

“Well, my bones are all set. They said that the bones need to heal properly before they can go in and put in the pins, which will take a month to a month and a half. And then I’ll have to recover from that surgery before I can even start physical therapy,” Jake explained, his voice gaining more and more bitterness to it as he continued. 

The room went silent, save for the beeping of machines and rustling of commotion out in the hallway. There was a clear elephant in the room that refused to be addressed, but it suffocated each and every one of you. 

With a sigh, Jake was the one to speak again. “Fine. Since no one else is willing to address it, I will. We’ve gotta go on hiatus.” 

It was as if Jake had fired off a gun with how everyone else reacted. The other four in the room had all recoiled at the notion, their brows knit with concern and confusion. All four had tried to speak at once, cooing out denials and suggestions other than the obvious. 

“Guys, we can’t fucking have a rock band when the guitarist can’t move his hand!” Jake shouted, clearly impatient with their sympathy. He didn’t want to be coddled, he wanted to face reality. 

“Jake, are you sure? We can just pause the tour and-” 

“Daniel, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. We have no idea how long it will take for me to get back my strength - or if I’ll ever be able to play again.” 

And there it was. The elephant had finally trumpeted loud enough to gain the attention of the room. It would no longer be ignored. 

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, everyone afraid to even breathe. You watched as Jake tried to fight his tears, anger and heartbreak flooding his eyes as he came face to face with the reality that his dream had been cut tragically short. He had come so far only to lose it all in a matter of a second. 

“Alright. We’ll talk to our team,” Sam offered, grabbing Daniel by the arm and walking out of the room. 

You had gone to say something to offer your sympathy, but the moment you looked into Jake’s eyes you bit your tongue. He didn’t want sympathy. All he wanted was his hand back - his dream life back. He also wanted to be left alone from the way he seemed to plead silently with you. 

“C’mon Josh, let’s go get something to eat.” Grabbing the singer by the hand, you led him out of the room in order to grant Jake’s silent wish. Before you left, you glanced back towards the guitarist to catch a glimpse of tears rolling down his face. With your heart cracked, you closed the door behind you. 

+++

The car was silent as you drove Jake back to his house, the air so thick with tension that you felt as if you were being smothered. Jake refused to look in your direction, his gaze remaining locked on the shapes passing by the window. Despite the music filtering through the speakers, it was completely tense. 

“So, how’d physical therapy go-”

“It was fine.” Jake’s reply was stiff and curt. That anger filled his tone that seemed to have been there for months. Ever since the accident, he was always angry. You suppose he had a right to be, but also you were running out of patience. 

“Really? Because you don’t seem fine,” you snap, growing tired of his attitude. 

“Fine. You really wanna know so fucking bad?! I’m making absolutely no progress and the PT said it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to play like I used to! That’s how it’s going!!” His voice made your ears ring from how loud he was shouting. 

You quickly glanced away from the road to look at your best friend, his eyes brimming with tears as his face was red with anger. You felt your blood grow frigid at the news, Jake clearly not really ready to talk about it quite yet but you pushed him to. 

“My career is over, y/n!! That dream I’ve had since I was a baby is fucking dead!!” Jake raved, his voice cracking under the weight of his despair. Your chest ached at the pain in his tone, your own eyes welling up with tears as the meaning of his words sank in. He was right. His dream was shattered; he lost it right when he started to believe that he made it. 

It was that moment - seeing Jake’s complete hopelessness - that you vowed that you would do whatever it took to get Jake's dream back. You refused to sit by and let the cruel hand of fate destroy that light inside the eyes of someone you loved. Reaching across the center console, you gently wrapped your hand around Jake’s wrist. You then brought his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it. 

“It will get better, Jakey. You’ve just gotta believe me,” you forecasted, already having a plan in mind. You knew it was stupid and dangerous and probably wouldn’t even work, but you had to try. 

+++

Feeling like a teenager rebelling against your parents once again, you scoured your book collection from high school. You knew it was in here somewhere, but the question was which book. You remember storing those pages you ripped out of library books in one of your books that you never really read as a teenager, but your memory had faded since the time you were fifteen. That meant you had to flip through every single one of your books and hope that you hadn’t donated the one you were looking for. Finally, you reached the start of your Stephen King novels. You grabbed your copy of Carrie, quickly flipping through the pages when loose paper fluttered to the floor near your feet where you had crossed your legs. Setting the book aside while also rolling your eyes at your own actions, you picked up the pages and unfolded them. 

Of course I hid them in Carrie

Holding the familiar paper in your hands, you flipped through the loose leafs of pages and read through the slightly faded words and symbols. Your memory was jogged with reading through these very same pages under your covers, using a small pen light to be able to see them. Of course, back then you had no intentions of ever putting this knowledge into practice. You had merely read them as an act of defiance to your parents forcing you to be raised catholic. 

However, seeing all those satanic symbols staring you right in the face once more knowing full well you were about to wield the spells they contained, that same terror that had been instilled in you since birth had sprung forth from your bones and into your bloodstream. Gulping and closing your eyes, you forced yourself to calm down. There was no use in indulging in your religious trauma when there was no guarantee that any of this satanic stuff was real. 

Getting to your feet, you left your attic and read through the ingredients you needed for the spell. Chicken feet, gold candles, pig’s blood, bloodstone, chalk, dried hyssop, three crow feathers, and a snake skull. The candles, chicken feet, bloodstone, chalk, and pig’s blood you’d be able to get fairly easily - there was a butcher’s shop about five minutes away as well as a wiccan store down the road. The other stuff would have to be ordered online unless by some miracle the wiccan shop had them. You decided to call ahead, facing down your phone anxiety for Cob; he better be fucking thankful after all you’re going through. 

Thankfully, the wiccan shop had just what you needed as well as the butcher’s. So, it seemed that you would be conducting the ritual tonight. A stab of fear lanced through your chest as you realized what that meant. If this turned out to be a real spell, there would be a real, live demon in your house. And you would make a deal with it. 

+++

You had gathered all that you needed for the summoning. Now you just had to follow the instructions on the page. Taking the chalk, you drew the symbol on the page onto the cement of your basement floor. It was not nearly as neat as the printed one, but it was close enough that wouldn’t cause any confusion. Next, you took the wooden bowl filled with pig’s blood - your salad bowl, ironically - and crushed the dried hyssop into the crimson liquid and mixed it in. 

Taking the bloodstone, you submerge it in the blood, wincing at the feeling. You had intentionally let it sit out so that it would be room temperature and not cold; you don’t think you would’ve been able to stomach it cold. Placing the stone in the center of the symbol, you then set the snake’s skull atop the coated bloodstone. Next, taking a chicken’s foot, you dip the largest toe in the blood and draw another symbol inside the large one while chanting in Latin, setting the foot atop the symbol you drew. You repeated that two more times before completing the set up by placing the crow feathers so that they connect each foot towards the skull and the stone. 

Before the last step in the process, you lit the candles and set them around the large symbol. Closing your eyes, you then reached for the pocket knife you had laying by your leg. Unsheathing the blade with a press of a button, your hand shook as you double-checked the next step. You had read it correctly: you needed your own blood. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes as you dragged the sharp blade across your palm. Your entire hand stung as you set the knife off to the side, dipping the fingers of your free hand into your blood. You once again began chanting in Latin as you drew the same symbol you used for the chicken feet onto the skull. With that final step, the incantation was complete. 

Having thought ahead, you grabbed the gause you brought and wrapped your bleeding palm with it. Disappointment flooded your system as the seconds passed as nothing happened. You had half hoped that it would work so that your effort was not wasted, but it seemed that all your parents’ worrying about demonic forces was for naught; it didn’t even fucking exist and you just proved it. They had feared a boogie man all their life that was as harmful as their shadow. 

With a sigh, you begin cleaning up the mess you made on your floor. You were so thankful that you hadn’t been holding the bowl of pig’s blood when you heard a voice behind you; it would’ve gone flying. 

“Well, I haven’t seen this spell used in years,” a female voice chimed, causing you to yelp and drop the pocket knife you just thankfully closed. 

Spinning around you come face to face with a stunning woman that made your heart pound. She had long sandy blonde hair styled in the style of a 50s bombshell starlet, her winged eyeliner and scarlet lips adding to that appearance. Keeping with the red theme, she wore a bright red low cut mermaid dress with a lace bodice. Red opera gloves painted her arms as well as sparkling diamond bangles. She was a total knockout, her eyes smoldering and seductive. Her smile was enrapturing, even the smallest curve at the corner of her lips was enough to make your heart beat out of your chest like a Looney Tunes cartoon. 

“Uh-” you clear your throat after your voice breaks, “who are you and how did you get here?” 

The woman smiled, your breath getting caught in your throat. She then chuckled amusedly, taking a few steps towards you. “You summoned me here, darling.” 

She had a very subtle but enticing rasp to her voice. It made you want to pay attention to everything she said, but it also was so distracting that it caused you to lose focus on the actual words. 

“I…did?” 

With a deep but annoyed sigh, the woman rolled her eyes. With a blink of her eyes, they turned completely blood red. You stumbled back at the sight, wholly unprepared to see such a thing. 

“Believe me now, sweetheart?” Her tone was purely condescending, but you didn’t seem to mind all that much. You shook your head yes; you knew she wasn’t human. 

“S-So… Miss Demon- do I call you that?” you nervously ask, very afraid of making her mad. 

“Haley is fine, darling,” the demon - Haley - corrected, adjusting her hair by fluffing it at the end a little. 

“Ok…” 

“Well, let’s get to business,” she prompted, blinking and turning her eyes back to their normal brown. 

“Right,” you tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling very underdressed in Haley’s presence despite the fact you were standing in your own dingy basement. 

“I don’t have all night, sweetheart. Spit it out!” 

Her yelling snapped you into action, remembering why you had summoned her in the first place. “I need you to fix Jake Kiszka’s hand and make it work how it did before his accident.” 

“Well, you certainly have expensive taste,” Haley commented, that seductive tone back in her words and features. You didn’t like the way her eyes glittered with mischief as she looked you up and down. 

“What do you mean ‘expensive taste’?” 

“Not every demon deal requires a soul, baby. I thought you would’ve known that considering your teenage rebellion phase and reading up on demons,” she slightly taunted, a laugh in her tone. If she weren’t so goddamn beautiful you would’ve been really annoyed by her. 

“But… this one does? Why? It’s just Jakey’s hand-” 

“The hand of one of history’s greatest guitar players, darling. Don’t think I don’t know exactly who you’re bargaining for. Got a bleeding heart for your little boy toy, huh?” She took another step closer to you, her stilettos clicking against the concrete. 

With a heavy sigh, you grit your teeth against the annoyance you were feeling towards the demon. “Alright, you can have my soul for Jake’s hand-” 

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s very noble of you, but you’re already hell bound. I need a soul that’s taking the stairway, not the highway,” she interrupted, adjusting her hair once again. She had a brilliantly charming smile across her face, her teeth perfectly white. Her laugh, while slightly belittling, managed to pull you back in. 

“Hell bound??” That was certainly news to you. 

“Darling, you’ve broken four of the ten commandments. There’s no coming back from that.” 

Your mind was racing as you tried to figure out just which four - well, two you were certain you broke. Deciding that now wasn’t the time, you brought your focus back to the demon in front of you. 

“Whose soul will you need, then?” 

“Let’s just say it’s gonna be someone you’re… close with. Or, will be,” she cryptically answered, bringing a gloved finger to her chin, that charming glint shining in her eyes. 

You began racking your brain as to who she could be hinting at. Really, that could be anyone and you knew asking Haley for a definitive answer would be a bust. She wouldn’t tell you because if you knew for certain you would be less likely to deal. However, what you did know for certain was that taking a soul from someone would cause instant death if it was done quickly. “Alright, fine. But you have to promise me that you won’t kill whoever you’re thinking of right away.” 

Haley sighed, rolling her eyes. “Humans…” she muttered under her breath. 

“Whatever. Since I like you and the soul your bargaining is quite valuable, I promise not to take the soul away all at once. But, I’m taking half up front - think of it as an advance,” she informed, taking one more step closer to you. She was now in your personal space, her beauty overwhelming to your senses. One would think you’d be used to otherworldly beauty having been around the likes of the boys, but she was just incomparable. 

Without even really thinking, you nodded your head. While it was cruel to have the soul slowly and methodically leached out of them, it wouldn’t result in death. And you were doing it to save Jake’s dream… that had to count for something, right? 

“Do we have a deal?” Haley asked, her voice smoldering and dripping sex as she leaned in towards your ear. 

Just as you were about to say yes - the word on the tip of your tongue - you stopped. There was something that made absolutely no sense in this deal. “Wait- how am I able to bargain away a soul that’s not even mine?” 

“Semantics, angel. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over,” the demon placated, her gloved hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. The action made you shiver, unaware that that was something you were into. 

“But-” 

“So,” she interrupted again, “do we have ourselves a deal?” 

You opened your eyes to find that she was smirking again, inches away from your face. Your heart picked up its pace, your throat becoming dry as butterflies feverishly fluttered in your stomach. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You go to extend her hand so she can shake it and officially seal the deal when you feel Haley’s hand slither to the back of your head and push you into your lips. You let out a small whine at the feeling of her lips against yours, wholly unprepared and - admittedly - overjoyed at the notion that you were kissing such a beautiful person. 

You were deeply disappointed and annoyed when she pulled you away by your hair, her knowing laugh enough to make your cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“Don’t fret, baby. You’ll see me again in hell someday,” she mused, “but in the meantime, Jake’s hand will be repaired.” 

With one last seductive smile, she snapped her fingers and disappeared from sight. Now that you were alone, the weight of what you had just done crushed you like a falling grand piano from the heavens. Your guilt felt crippling as you realized you just sold someone else’s life away and you didn’t even know who. 

+++

A/N: The crossroads demon I used in this fic is based off the singer Haley Reinhart and I highly encourage you to look up her music. Not only does she have an incredibly amazing voice but she's also stunningly gorgeous.

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[tiredofthehumanlife]

I went to see Barbie the day it came out in theaters and it destroyed me (positively) but guess who's going to see it in theaters for a second time tomorrow

Update: it was twice as devastating the second time. I fully sobbed. I could hear other people sniffling at the end I felt weirdly bonded with all these other people I've never spoken to before like our shared experiences with misogyny and the pain the patriarchy has caused us made all best friends sobbing over the PG-13 Barbie movie together anyways I handed the girl next to me a tissue and cried for thirty minutes after I left the theater, popcorn was good tho

[wild-karrde]

One Step at a Time - Part 8

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: I know I've been taking forever with these updates, but HERE IS A NEW PART!! I really struggled with this chapter, but it kind of finally came together this week while I had time to dedicate time to it, and I am VERY excited about where this story is going. As always, thank you to the wonderful @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading for me!

Chapter Rating: T

Warnings: grief, angry Nita

Word Count: 5k words

Click. Click. Click.

The pilot’s chair creaked as Chuckles shifted, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. The blaster was back in his hands, and he was flipping the stun setting on and off again, his mind reflecting on the freshest losses.

It just never ends.

His thumb moved over the button.

Click. Click. Click.

His chest tightened.

At least Ry and Oks are still alive. I hope. 

He shook his head. 

Nah, worst case they’re in jail because Ry got in a fight with one of them and Oks had to pull her off. Yeah. 

He huffed a mirthless laugh before succumbing to his emotions. His vision blurred, and his eyes stung. He’d kept his tears of frustration, anger, and grief at bay the entire flight out to the nebula. Now, the familiar pink cloud and starfield sprawled out in front of him, silent as ever. It didn’t bring its normal comfort, instead seemingly reminding of everything he’d lost. He huffed a sigh, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his unoccupied hand.

Click. Click. Click.

Nita had gone to bed, mumbling that she wasn’t hungry. 

She’s never not hungry. That kid eats more than a battalion. 

The little Pantoran had hardly met his eyes since the moment he’d told her he was ripping her away from Sorgan, from a life that she’d started to rebuild, from a home. He knew it had been the right call, but that did little to assuage the guilt gnawing at his insides.

No kids should have to go through this. There’s been so much loss. So much death.

Arni at least seemed to understand why they’d left. They’d helped him navigate back to the nebula, quiet as ever, but he hadn’t missed the way their eyes grew distant as they stared at the viewport, or the occasional sniffling. They hadn’t said anything about it though. 

Click.

He stared down at the blaster in his hands.

And I’ve been the cause of a lot of it. I’ve been the one to take them from every home they’ve ever known. People that looked like me killed their friends. It… it’s all been me.

The grief hit Chuckles like a speeder, punching the air from his lungs.

Dammit.

He shuddered as he tried to contain the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, but his vision blurred again as the tears came anyway. Digging his teeth into his lip to try and keep the emotions at bay, he exhaled sharp, shuddering breaths through his nose. He wiped at his eyes in frustration, but that only seemed to bring him closer to the brink of breaking. Leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands and unleashed a shuddering sob. 

I can’t do this. I can’t. 

His thoughts returned to the clones he’d shot that day, and the faces of his brothers flashed through his mind.

I wonder what they looked like under their helmets. Did they have tattoos? Scars? Weird haircuts? Whose batchmates were they?

His body shook with silent sobs. He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his whimpers.

Did they know what was happening? In their minds, were they still them somewhere in there?

Click. Click. Click.

That would be even more awful, I think. Knowing what you were doing, but being helpless to stop it.

“Chuckles?” Arni’s voice was quiet, but sounded deafening in the silence around him, and Chuckles jumped. He whirled on the young Twi’lek, who shrank back at first before their face softened. He tried to throw the blanket over the DC-17 in his hand, but Arni’s brown eyes flicked to it before moving back to study his face.

“What is it kid?” he rasped, hurriedly trying to wipe the tears from his face. “What’s up?”

Arni quietly came around to stand in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Just… uh… just really trying to build up a tolerance for those spicy snacks of yours.” He let out a dry, shuddering laugh. “Just can’t seem to do it though, dammit.”

It was a terrible lie, and they both knew it. Arni had watched Chuckles carefully all through dinner, and it had broken the clone pilot knowing what was going through the youngling’s mind.

They don’t want me to know they’re hurting too. They’re trying to fix it. It’s nothing that they’ve broken, but even after everything, they worry about Nita and me more than themself.

Chuckles couldn’t meet the young Twi’lek’s eyes, running his hand through his mohawk.

Probably need to shave that off again. Back to hiding.

Arni observed him for another few seconds before stepping forward, pulling the blanket back to reveal the sidearm. They reached for the gun, trying to pull it from Chuckles’s grasp, but the pilot tightened his grip on it.

“Kid-“

“The deal was that you take care of us, and I take care of you. And that you’d let me. We promised,” they said quietly. The birthmark on their cheek twitched as they chewed the inside of their cheek, watching Chuckles for a moment before reaching for the DC-17 again. “Let me see it. Please.” They tugged at the blaster once more, and this time, Chuck relented, the cool metal slipping from his fingertips as Arni took it, studying it intently.

“Why do you sit up with this at night?” they asked. “This isn’t the first time. You stopped doing it on Sorgan, but I could hear it clicking the first few weeks when you’d stay up.” They rubbed their thumb over the weapon before clicking the stun setting off and then back on. “That’s what you’re doing, right? Clicking between the modes?”

Chuckles couldn’t help but feel like a cadet caught fooling with something he shouldn’t be. His tongue felt like lead, so he just nodded wordlessly.

“Did you mean to kill them that day?” Arni’s voice was soft, but the words still felt like a knife in Chuck’s chest. He and the two younglings had largely managed to avoid talking about that day, as if not speaking about it would make it less real. If he was honest, he still wasn’t sure how to talk about it, and while he hoped the inhibitor chip rumor was true in some part of him, the implications that came with that chilled him. The chip’s existence might absolve his brothers, but  it turned his stomach to think that they’d been forced to kill those most loyal to them, to turn their blasters on younglings like Nita and Arni. He’d been around the temple enough to know that there were Jedi there younger than Nita. He couldn’t stomach the thought of what had happened to them.

“No,” he managed to croak out. “I didn’t. I… I just wanted to keep you and Nita safe. I didn’t know what was happening, but I wasn’t going to let them hurt you.”

Arni nodded, their eyes studying the blaster intently. “I heard you try to set it to stun,” they stated, turning the weapon over in their hands before pulling a screwdriver out of one of their many pouches along their belt. They began fiddling with a small maintenance panel just below the mode switch, and in a few more seconds, they slipped the cover loose, deftly swapping the screwdriver for a small penlight from a different pouch. Plopping down on the floor of the ship, they balanced the blaster between their knees and began to probe at the wires inside.

“What are you doing kid?”

Arni said nothing for a moment, their tongue poking out of the corner of their mouth as they prodded at a few specific wires. Chuck knew better than to ask again; the young Twi’lek easily got absorbed in their work and would answer when they were ready. After a few moments, Arni appeared to confirm something, sighing deeply before finally turning to meet Chuckles’s eyes.

“How old is this blaster?”

Chuckles’s brow furrowed at the question. “Dunno. Probably three years.”

“You didn’t get a new one in the last year or so?” 

“No.” 

Arni nodded, their tongue wetting their lips before they met Chuck’s gaze. “Did you know that a common defect with the first generation DC-17s is that their mode settings sometimes fail?”

Chuck stared at them, his mind not comprehending.

“No. But…”

It clicked into place in his mind. His eyes widened. Arni gave him a small smile.

“The wiring gets stressed a lot on that particular solder joint. I think I read somewhere seventeen percent of the weapons see a failure where they get stuck on their default mode, which is kill. It rarely gets noticed or reported because most soldiers only keep their weapons set to kill, so the occurrences may even be higher than that. They fixed it in later models, but you never had a reason to ask for a different sidearm. You would only have ever used it in an emergency where your ship was downed and you survived. So pilots probably weren’t prioritized when the newer DC-17s came out.” They held the gun out to Chuck, pulling a pair of wires loose and showing him what they’d found. He could see the remnants of the solder joint stuck to the conducting material of the wires. “You didn’t kill them. Your blaster failed, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Chuckles took the faulty weapon from Arni, running through what the young Twi’lek had said over and over.

It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill them. It wasn’t your fault.

The blaster clattered to the ground in front of the clone pilot, and he buried his face in his hands, letting the sobs and tears come freely.

It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.

It’s not your fault.

He felt Arni place a hand on his shoulder, and without thinking, he slipped out of the chair and onto his knees, wrapping the Twi’lek up in a tight hug. Arni hugged him back, their thin fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. After a few minutes, Chuckles managed to get his emotions back under control, sitting back on his heels and wiping at his eyes. Arni didn’t move, standing in front of him and watching.

“Are you alright?” they asked quietly, their voice hopeful. “Did that help?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m better now, kid.” Chuckles took a deep breath of air, holding it for a second before letting it out in a gradual exhale. It was the lightest he’d felt since he’d stood under the tree at the temple. He let out a quiet laugh.

“What is it?” Arni asked hesitantly.

Chuckles leaned forward, placing his hands on the young Twi’lek’s shoulders. “If I hadn’t met you kids, I still may have had to shoot my way out. I may have lived with that guilt forever. So thank you, Arni. For telling me that.” 

Arni nodded, smiling. After a moment, they hesitantly sat down next to Chuckles, who shifted so he was sitting on his rear, stretching his legs out in front of him. The two of them stared out at the nebula for a while before Arni spoke again. 

“Nita isn’t angry at you. She’s just sad.” 

“I know,” Chuckles replied. “Been there myself. I get that she’s just sad and I’m the closest target. And that’s ok.” 

“She’ll come around.” 

“I don’t know, she’s awfully stubborn.” 

Arni giggled quietly. “She is. It’s just… a lot. It was simple when we were at the temple. We knew what our lives were going to look like. Now, everything is different. We don’t know what’s going to happen.” They looked over at him. “Did you ever know what you were going to do after the war?” 

Chuck leaned back on his palms. “Honestly kid, I wasn’t sure I was going to be around at the end of the war. I lost so many brothers, I always just kind of figured I’d go out in a blaze of glory and take as many clankers with me as I could.”

“That’s sad.”

Chuckles shrugged. “I’m happy to be surprised.” 

Arni leaned against his shoulder, their lekku draping over his arm as they wrapped their arms around his bicep. “I’m happy you’re here too.” 

A short while later, Chuckles felt Arni’s breathing even out as they started to snore quietly on his shoulder. Carefully, he scooped up the young Twi’lek, carrying them back to the bunk. Nudging the sliding door open with his hip, he held his breath, hoping Nita wouldn’t wake. He was relieved to see the deep rise and fall of the tiny Pantoran’s back in the far side of the bunk not be interrupted as she continued to quietly snore undisturbed. Gently, he laid Arni down, pulling the blanket up and over their shoulders. They stirred but didn’t wake, and for a moment, Chuckles leaned against the bunk’s frame, watching the two younglings. 

This is my family now. I’m lucky to have them. 

And wherever they are, that’s my home. 

—

The next day, Nita’s demeanor still hadn’t thawed. Her hunger at least got the better of her. She tromped into the kitchenette while Arni and Chuckles were eating, wordlessly grabbed her favorite bag of snacks, and disappeared back into the bunk. 

“Aww no,” Arni muttered. 

“She’ll come around,” Chuckles tried to reassure.

“No, it’s not that. She’s gonna get those crumbs everywhere in the bed.” 

Chuckles snorted into his food. 

Arni and Chuck spent the day combing through star charts and news holos to try and pick a new planet to settle on. They had enough food for another standard week since they’d just stocked up when the Imperials had arrived on Sorgan, but Chuckles was eager to move on and start over. He hoped that sunlight and dirt under Nita’s feet would help bring her back around. 

They’d narrowed it down to a few candidates by dinner time, and Chuckles and Arni talked through them as they prepared another noodle dish with some of the fresh vegetables and meat they had onboard. They’d both agreed it would be better to work through the perishables first and leave the preserved food in case they had to lie low for longer. 

“I think Lothal is our best bet,” Arni stated evenly, stirring the boiling pot of noodles and occasionally prodding them to check for their tenderness. 

“Why’s that?” Chuckles asked. He also had come to the same conclusion but was interested in hearing Arni’s reasoning. The young Twi’lek sometimes surprised him with how their mind worked. 

“Well, first off, Lothal really didn’t see any action during the war, so not many people out there probably know what a clone looks like. That adds some safety for you.” 

“True.” 

“Also, Lothal had a lot of problems during the war. Drought, famine, collapse of certain industries. But from everything I’ve seen in the news holos we were looking at, it seems like the Empire is wanting to fix those things. That’s gonna take a lot of work. And that means jobs, which means you can find work pretty easily.” 

“But is it the kind of work I can do? We both know I’m talented, but only at two things.” 

“What’s the other?” Arni asked innocently. 

“Uhhh… nevermind. What job do you think I should take?” 

“There seems to be a lot of job postings at some of the mining facilities.” Arni appraised him for a moment. “You don’t seem to be someone that would like farming.”

Chuckles paused, turning to look down at Arni. The Twi’lek was focused on their task. 

“Thanks… I think,” Chuckles mumbled. 

Whether due to the smell or just being tired of eating from the same bag of snacks, Nita emerged from her hiding place in the bunk. Chuckles and Arni watched her as she went and got her bowl, offering it up to Chuckles to fill with food. Chuck obliged, and she carried it to the bench, sitting down and quietly beginning to eat. Arni caught Chuck’s eye, and he shook his head subtly. 

She’s got to come out of it on her own. 

The other two filled their bowls and sat down to eat as well. For a while, the only sound was the soft whooshing of them blowing on their noodles to cool them down and then subsequently slurping them. When it became obvious the contents of Nita’s bowl was dwindling, Chuckles sighed, looking over at Arni and giving them a jerk of his head. Arni took the hint, sliding off the bench and depositing their dishes on the counter before slinking back towards the forward end of the ship.

Nita and Chuckles sat silently for several moments. She refused to meet his gaze, just continuing to move the remnants of her noodles back and forth across the bottom of her bowl, her head resting heavily on her hand. 

“You gonna eat that or just play with it?” he asked, gently trying a joke out. 

Nita glared at him before aggressively shoveling the remnants into her mouth and wiping her lips on the back of her hand. She grabbed her empty bowl, hopping down from the bench to place it next to Arni’s on the counter. Chuckles waited and watched as she put it up before stomping away. He sighed, running his fingers over his mohawk and gently tugging on the ends in frustration.  

Alright. Try again in a bit. 

He’d made one more attempt before the younglings turned in for the night, but Nita slammed the door to the bunk shut in his face. Chuck rested his forehead against the outside of it, sighing deeply. Arni, who had made themself scarce since the end of dinner, suddenly was at his elbow, resting their hand on his shoulder. 

“She doesn’t understand. She’ll come around,” they attempted to reassure him.

Chuck sighed again. “I think the problem is she understands too well, kid. She’s coming to terms with the fact that this is the life we’re going to have for the foreseeable future, and as much as we may hate it, there’s nothing we can do to change it.” 

Arni nodded but said nothing. 

The two of them returned to the kitchenette, cleaning their bowls and utensils before Chuckles ushered Arni off to the bunk. They knocked softly, murmuring through the door, which cracked open enough to allow them inside before slamming back shut. Chuck winced at the sound of the metal clanging back into place, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Give her time. 

He shrugged out of his jacket and kicked off his boots, eyeing the pull down bunk before opting for the pilot’s chair again. While the bunk was nice most nights, the pilot’s chair always seemed to be the better option when he had something weighing on his mind. Grabbing the folded blanket from where he kept it stashed, he wrapped it around his shoulders and plunked down into the chair, resting his heels on the ship’s control panel. His eyes traced along the swirls of the nebula as he counted each of the stars for his fallen brothers. 

Crater… Stones… Arrow… Kilo…

The names went on and on. He started to wonder how many more there were now to count, how many more had died in the end. He picked out one with a blueish-green hue in one dimmer corner of a cloud, dedicating it to a brother whose fate he didn’t know.

Howzer. 

Next, he found a white one that shone brightly, occasionally twinkling in the distance. 

Wolffe. 

He ticked through his list, choosing stars for every brother he didn’t know. Just in case. 

Might be nice to talk to them. They’re lost to me now. But maybe someday, it’ll get better.

He fell asleep still looking. 

— 

Chuckles awoke with a start, the dreams of purple eyes, kind smiles, and signing hands leaving him to where he could only remember traces. He scrubbed his hands over his face in the dim cockpit before grounding himself in the nebula.

They’re safe. I’m sure they’re safe.

Glancing at the chrono, he realized it was nearly morning by Sorgan’s standards. 

Still acclimated. Surely that won’t last long. Normally I’d be going to work now. At Ry and Oks’s.

He shook loose some of the tension in his shoulders, trying to discard the worries he harbored for his two friends. His bladder was uncomfortably full, and he pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the popping of his joints as he hobbled to the ship’s small ‘fresher. After relieving himself and washing his hands and face, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles made his eyes appear more sunken. He knew his sleep had been fitful, and the chair hadn’t seemed as comfortable as it had in the past. He’d spent hours trying to figure out new approaches to try with Nita, and ultimately had come up empty. When he had drifted off, he’d only had nightmares, most of which he couldn’t remember now, but he did know they’d woken him in a cold sweat. 

At least the last one was nice. I think. 

Rolling his head, he heard several loud pops as his joints protested. A few days worth of scruff coated his cheeks, and he ran his hands along it before his eyes fell on the mohawk on top of his head. The faded blue color seemed almost vibrant in the ‘fresher’s dim lighting, and he remembered the day they’d dyed it. His chest tightened at the memory, but this time he managed to push down the emotions and worries that followed. He sighed, retrieving the clippers from their drawer and powering them on, running his fingers through his hair one last time. 

Time to go back into hiding. 

“What are you doing?” 

He whirled to find Nita standing behind him, bleary-eyed and clutching her trooper doll. Her eyebrows were knitted together in a scowl as she stared at Chuckles accusingly. He stared back, afraid of saying the wrong thing and sending her retreating back into the bunk and her silence. He once again felt like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and he fought the urge to hide the clippers behind his back. He clicked them off, swallowing hard. 

“I… uh… I figured I should change it.”

“Why?” The question seemed searing, even coming from a five-year-old. 

“I stand out with it,” he said firmly. “Draw attention.” 

“There are lots of people in the galaxy with funny hair,” Nita countered evenly. 

“That’s true, but not all of them are hiding.” 

“Maybe no one’s looking for us.” 

Chuckles paused, pondering that statement. “That may be true,” he said slowly. “But my face is pretty recognizable.”

“Not everywhere.” She crossed her arms. “I heard you and Arni talking about Lothal. You said that no clones went there during the war. They don’t know what your face looks like.” 

Chuckles did his best to stifle his smile. 

So she was listening.

“They may not,” he conceded. 

“Plus your hair is different from what most clones do.”

“That’s also true.”

Nita nodded firmly, clearly considering the matter settled. “Good. When do we leave for Lothal?”

“We can go whenever.” 

“Alright. Now would you move? I need to pee.” 

Chuckles stepped aside, still watching her carefully as she walked past him, shutting the door behind her. A soft giggle from the bunk drew his attention, and he turned to find Arni watching him, their hands over their mouth to stifle their laugh. 

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Chuck said, grinning. 

“Yeah. Guess so,” the agreed. “Told you she’d come around. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep your hair too.” 

Chuckles realized he was still holding the clippers. Reflexively, he ran his hand through his hair again. “Guess I’m keeping it then.” 

—

A few hours later, Chuckles eased the ship into hyperspace with Arni’s help on the navicomputer. The blue and white streaks brought him a certain amount of comfort. 

Maybe it’s because it’s a path forward. Always did hate stalling out. 

He glanced over at his young co-pilot, who gave him a small smile. 

“You’re getting good at working that nav equipment,” he commented. 

Arni shrugged. “It’s not terribly complicated. Simpler than even your Z-95.” 

Chuckles wrinkled his nose, but then he noticed the corner of Arni’s mouth twitched, and he realized his normally stoic co-pilot had made a joke, and they were watching him carefully to see how it landed. He growled playfully, leaning over to wrap an arm around the young Twi’lek’s head, ruffling their lekku gently. Arni giggled loudly, struggling in Chuck’s grip. 

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” he joked, releasing Arni and crossing their lekku over their eyes. Arni guffawed as they regained their breath, replacing their lekku and straightening their headgear. The smile they wore was the widest one Chuckles had seen from them in a while. He hoped the joking was just the beginning of Arni growing more comfortable around him. They’d been slow to come out of their shell on Sorgan, but as he’d expressed interest in their sketches and journals, he’d found them opening up, even making a few jokes here or there that occasionally went over his head. This one had been right on the money though, and it reminded him of his banter with his brothers. 

He glanced over his shoulder to where Nita was laying on the floor of the ship, her feet propped up in the air as she played with her trooper doll. Meeting Arni’s gaze, he jerked his head towards the rear of the ship. 

“Family meeting.”

They hadn’t had many of those, the first one being after Chuckles had fended off Broog to talk through what to do in an emergency. Arni’s brows furrowed slightly, but they nodded, hopping out of the co-pilot seat and heading for the dining area. Chuck had declared that the meeting spot so that he could look at both of them at the same time and have their undivided attention. Standing, Chuck strode over to Nita and looked down at her. “That means you too, honey.”

Nita still wasn’t speaking to him fully, but he could sense some of her hostility had thawed. She nodded wordlessly, pushing herself to her feet and heading towards the back of the ship. Chuck resisted the urge to scoop her up, not wanting to push her too much just yet. 

After both younglings were seated at the table and paying attention, Chuckles inhaled deeply, suddenly nervous. The idea had come to him earlier, and he’d been formulating the speech ever since. 

“So… I know the last few days have been hard. Leaving Sorgan was not something any of us wanted to do. It feels like we’re losing a home again, and I’m sorry it happened.” Nita’s gaze fell to her lap. Arni swallowed hard. Chuck pressed forwards. “We’re headed to Lothal now, but the reality is that we’re probably not going to stay there forever. In order to keep ourselves safe, we have to be careful, and when things get too risky, we have to move on.” 

Both younglings nodded, but he could see they both already understood that. It didn’t keep their shoulders from noticeably drooping. 

“But, that doesn’t mean we don’t have a home.” He patted the wall next to him, making a dull thud sound with the palm of his hand. “This ship is going to have to go with us wherever we go, so I think we should make it our home for now. So I think we should name it.” 

“Doesn’t it already have a name?” Nita asked. 

“It’s not a good one,” Arni replied. 

“What is it?” Chuck was genuinely curious. 

“It roughly translates to ‘Gas of a Comet’, but it sounds less nice,” Arni stated, trying to keep a straight face. “I found it when we were scrambling the ship’s signature.”

“So… it’s named ‘Comet Farts’?” Nita giggled. 

Arni’s face split into a massive grin, creasing the birthmark on your cheek. “Kinda.” 

Chuck snorted, trying to remain serious. “Alright, well clearly that can’t stand. So what do we want to call our home?” 

Arni leaned over, whispering conspiratorially for a bit to Nita, who listened very seriously before cupping her hand and providing her input. Chuck stared at the ceiling as the two younglings deliberated. He wanted this to be their decision, something that would make it feel most like home to them. 

As long as it doesn’t actually contain the word ‘fart.’

After a few minutes, Nita and Arni appeared to reach an agreement. Arni nodded, and Nita delivered the verdict. 

“Starlight.”

Chuck grinned. “Like our family name?” 

“No one knows it’s our family name since Ayyshu is technically a combination of two languages,” Arni countered. “And the stars have kind of become our family thing. Chirrut talked about how starlight is used as a guide, and we think that’s kind of fitting for the thing carrying us from place to place.”  

Chuck pretended to mull it over for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I’ll need you to program that into the ship’s credentials, Arni. But Starlight it is.” 

The two younglings grinned, but after a moment, Nita’s face suddenly grew a little serious, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her. “What if we lose the ship?” she asked quietly. 

Damn. 

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t anticipated the question; he had just hoped it wouldn’t be asked immediately. Chuckles reached across the table. “Then we’ll find a new one.” He extended his pinkies towards both of them. “But whenever that happens and whatever it is, it’ll be home because we’re all together. We’ll make this ship our base, but at the end of the day, a home is a home because of the people in it. We could live in a hole in the ground or in the heart of an asteroid, but no matter what, you two are my home. Got it?” 

The two younglings looked at each other, and something unspoken passed between them. Arni reached over, taking Nita’s hand in theirs before locking their thin, blue pinky with Chuckles’s. Nita scooted to the edge of her seat, reaching forward to do the same with his other hand. He gently squeezed both of their fingers in his, making a wordless promise they all understood. 

Nita nodded decisively, speaking for both her and Arni. 

“Got it.” 

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @obihiddlenox @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @moonstrider9904 @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501 @arctrooper69

[5sosxqueen]

Poor Lad Is Very Sick

< Part 1 , < Part 2 , ~Part 3~

You guys have no idea how much I have to do for these gifs now... it's a pain in the ass, but I like this layout too much to change it. I started working on this at 10pm my time and it's almost 1am now.

Anyways, isn't Duke just the cutest?? 🥰😍

Warnings: hospital, mention of panic attacks

Written in 2018

Published (Wattpad) - Feb 14, 2018

Word Count: 1,382

Updates are every Tuesday and Thursday

Also Available on Wattpad and AO3!!!

Part 3:

Calum's POV:

      'What is that sound?' *beep, beep, beep, sniffle, beep* 'Is someone crying? Why? Why can't I open my eyes or move my body....? What's going on? Michael? Ashton? Luke? Guys help me... Why aren't you answering? Who's crying?' "Calum please wake up..." I heard what sounded like Michael talking. Was I asleep? "We miss you so much Cal-Pal. You need to fight this and come back to us." I heard sniffling as he was talking.

       "I love you Cal. Please don't leave us..." Ash. He was the one crying, his voice wavering every second. 'Don't cry Ash. Why would you think I would leave you guys?' I didn't even know if I was even producing the words. 'I have to find a way to tell them I'm ok!' I suddenly felt something on my hand...

Michael's POV:

      I had Cal's hand gripped tightly in my larger one. I wanted to make sure he knew I was here. I talked to him, held his hand, and brushed the fringe from his closed eyes every chance I got since we got here.

      Ash has been crying nonstop, while Luke cradles him. Luke has managed to stay so strong during all of this. He's only broken down once. too be honest with myself I've broken down more then I would care to admit aloud, more than the occasional tear here and there that I've let show. I hate showing my emotions... I'm trying not to, but I feel like I am getting ready to lose the internal battle, fighting the tears from falling. I break. I rush a hand to cover my mouth in a failed attempt to cover a sob. I lower my head to the bed and just start praying, tearfully praying to a God that I don't even know exists, never letting go of his hand.

      I felt a twitch... No. I must have imagined it.

      Another twitch.

      I shot my head up and locked my gaze on our interlocked hands. I stare for what feels like forever, although it is only a few seconds. I see it, his hand moved. "HIS HAND MOVED!" I jumped out of my seat as Ashton slowly climbed off Luke's lap.

      "Are- are you sure Michael?" Luke asked me, glancing over to the bed.

      "Is he... Waking up?" Ashton looked over at the shell that once our best friend with eyes filled with hope.

       "YES! I FELT IT LUKE! I don't know Ash, but I think he might be starting to." I looked over to Calum and we all watched in amazement and pure awe, as he scrunched up his face. He squeezed my hand tight and I took a step forward. "Calum? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand twice if you can hear me." I instantly crashed to my knees in a fit of complete solace, as I felt two weakened pumps. "He-" I couldn't form the words.

       "Michael?" I looked to Luke and saw the tears that we're threatening to fall from his ever so hopeful gaze. I nodded.

        "He's awake... Calum's awake...." I bawled. I was beyond relieved knowing that our friend would be ok.

       "Oh, thank God!" Luke got up from the chair he had been sitting in for a little over a week, minus getting some nights sleep and to lazily bathe. "Calum, buddy, don't try to talk. I know you probably have loads of questions and I'm sorry, but you have a tube in your mouth right now." Luke speaking soft as he walked over to the head of the bed. A tear slowly streamed down Calum's ghostly face.

Ashton's POV:

       Though the blurriness of my eyes, I walked over and calmly pushed the button for the nurse. I could tell that upon walking in it looked as if nothing had changed. Calum still had his eyes shut, he's responded to everything one way or another.

       'Calum's going to be ok. He is ok!' I thought contently. The nurse walked in and saw us hovering over the bed for the millionth time since he has been here. "How may I help you boys?" She asked nicely.

       "He's awake." We all almost yelled through our tears and giddiness.

       "He is?" He, very slowly and very shakily, lifted his thumb up, as he slowly cracked his eyes open adjusting to the bright contrast of light. She must have seen it too, as her face lit up. "Huh! Well good morning Calum... I'm going to take a look at your eyes bud. Bright light." She explained walking over to Cal's bedside and pulling out a small flashlight. She shot it back and forth in front of one eye as he held it open and then repeated the action with the other. "Everything looks good." She exclaimed looking over his vitals. "I will be right back boys. I have to talk to Dr. Kilarjian." With that she swiftly walked out of the room and into the hallway.

        Soon enough the doctor and the nurse walked in with bright smiles on their faces. "I heard Calum is awake... I heard that his vitals are doing great... Guess what that means." We looked at each other dumbfounded and shook our heads, shrugging, clueless to what she was going to say. "It means I'm going to try to wean Mr. Hood off the ventilator." If we weren't crying happily before, we definitely were now. "I'm going to lower the ventilator about 5% and we will see if anything worrisome occurs, but if nothing done then I will lower it another 5% and so on." We nodded super anxious to get this tube out of his throat.

       She did just that, started slowly weaning him off the tube. The ventilator was originally only at 35% it didn't take too long.

      "Ok Calum, I'm going to take out that annoying tube now. You will need to cough to help me get it moving. This will hurt since this has been down your throat for quite some time. It's best with you being a singer that you don't talk for a day or two, or until you feel like it. We will supply you withe a pen and paper or you can use your phone. Either way, are you ready?" He nodded eagerly. She turned the ventilator of and watched him breathe for a minute. She unhooked the tube from the machine and undid the tape that was securing it. "Ok cough." He coughed and gagged slightly as she slid the tube from his throat. He started to feel suffocated, which sounds bad, but it was actually a really good sign. After it was out he looked around and Dr. Kilarjian rose his bed up.

       She handed him the promised pen and paper and he quickly put it to use. 

'How long was I out for?' 

      "About a week and a half bud." I responded. His face dropped. 

'And my chest hurts due to the tube right?'  He pointed the paper at the doctor.

       "That's right Calum. You will be sore for a while. It will also take a day or two for you to be able to walk or move around." He went to write something else. "If you are wondering what cashed all of this, it was pneumonia. Really bad at that." He nodded and showed her the half written sentence. That was what he was getting ready to ask. 

'How long will I have to be here now? I know I just woke up from a coma, so it will be a while, but I want to go home. It's all cleared up right?' 

      "It may be a while. I think you should stay for at least 3 days just to make sure everything clear and that there are no complications." Calum nodded and leaned his head back against the pillow, content that all of his questions were answered.

       Calum had to do some physical therapy for a while, but once he could walk again and was given the all clear he was released from the hospital with some medicine he had to take for 5 days. Now he is right back to singing and jumping/running around on stage, back to his happy self.