#stuff is getting ripped apart and thrown around from people's yards

[emometalhead]

I hope my fellow Californians are staying safe. This storm is no joke

[baka-monarch]

Toy story au

:)

Dream has a job of restoring old toys, fixing toys- and basically just helping toys to not be broken and stuff (kind of-)

Except he knows something- he knows that toys are alive. He found out when he was a kid and one little mushroom fairy doll he'd stolen had been too lazy to pretend to be an object

So now, Dream has his little workshop where he'll help fix people's toys- but with the help of George (the mushroom fairy doll) he'll find out how the toy got broken and if they want to go back to the person who had then before, if not he'll let them stay and tell the person he couldn't fix the toy, then it's up to the toy weather they want to be given to another kid or if they just wanna stay with Dream (these options are also given to toys who need to be restored- in case they don't wanna be on a shelf collecting dust, or they just are too lonely being on a shelf as a collectable)

So far Dream does have a few toys living with him such as:

George: a doll of a mushroom fairy prince based off a character in an old children's cartoon (Dream had stolen them when he was a kid because he needed money and knew George would sell alot to collectors- but then he found out toys were alive and didn't do that)

Sapnap: action figure of an anime character. He was given to Dream to restore after a collector bought him from another collector- but decided to stay because sitting on a shelf and doing nothing was boring and lonely, so now with Dream he can run around and do whatever he wants, which includes fighting things

Badboyhalo: action figure of a movie villain. The kid who had him before had ripped all of his arms off (even though he's plastic-) while playing with him and that's why Dream had to fix him. Bad decided to stay because he didn't like having to be the villain, plus it hurt to be thrown around and pulled apart so much....

Antfrost: a cat plushie that had a few tears. He'd been sold at a yard sale- but the people who had bought him had only bought Ant and not Velvet, so when he was given to Dream to sew up he asked to stay to have Dream's help to try and find Velvet again so they could stay together (they do find Velvet eventually, don't worry- it seems like the person writing this world decided that Velvet would be given to Dream to get fixed at some point 👀)

AwSamDude: creeper plushie. A kid had tried to sew armor onto him, but they had no idea what they were doing- so now Sam is with Dream being fixed... But he doesn't really want to go back to his kid because he's interested in building and stuff, so he stays and sometimes him and other toys build amazing things with legos-

Red Velvet: little plushie doll designed like a red velvet cake. He ends up with Dream after a kid ripped his arm- but ended up staying because of Antfrost

Captain Puffy: sheep plushie. She was actually given to Dream when he was a baby, like a present for the day he was born- so she's always been there for Dream, even before he knew toys were alive. Now she's in charge of all of the toys when Dream isn't there, she's an amazing leader, builder, and is great at making sure everyone is doing okay

Niki: she's a monster mermaid doll based off a kids movie series with monsters (definitely not monster high-). A kid cut off some of her hair and tried to put makeup on her. She decided to stay because she didn't really like kids deciding who she was and what she was like (she learned from Puffy she could choose what to be like herself) and decided to stay

Ponk: lemon with a face, arms, and legs. A kid ripped off his arm, and when he was brought to Dream the arm that had been torn off was missing. He decided to stay because he wanted to be able to go on his own adventures

Connor: sonic toy. Nobody knows how he got here or why he stayed.

Foolish: action figure! He's supposed to change colour in water, but was never able to do it, and was brought to Dream to be fixed.... But Dream couldn't figure out how to fix it. So Foolish just stayed, and started to become friends with Puffy

Hannah Rose: chia pet doll- the company just wanted to test and see if a doll would work, the kid who had Hannah broke her almost immediately because she's made of glass- she decided to stay because she knew that if she broke again the CIA per company would just destroy her

Punz and Purpled: superhero action figures. Dream got both of them together after a kid tried to swap their arms. Both decided to stay because kids are destructive and disgusting

Quackity: a rubber ducky! His squeaker broke, and he chose to stay because he wants to still annoy people and cause chaos without a squeaker

Karl: a large plushie doll, designed like his original Minecraft skin. His arm got ripped, and he wanted to stay with Dream because he needed help with some memory problems

Eret: doll king based off a show with fairytale characters. The factory paint on his eyes got whiped off, but when Dream was gonna paint it back Eret told him he'd done it herself, she wanted to have blank eyes and wanted to customize themselves to match what he wanted to look like. So Dream helped them out

Technoblade: pig plushie. The dude got a battle scar (he had a year in his arm) and still refuses to let Dream sew it to this day

Ranboo: same line of monster dolls as Niki (he looks like his vtuber). He hasn't been around long enough to have many memories of his own apart from being bought and loosing his hand... So he wants to stay with Dream so he can make his own memories with friends of his own choosing

Wilbur Soot: an amibo of a character from a game like Stardew Valley..... Except he decided to cause chaos, got off his little pedastool and started threatening to burn down the house of the kids that owned him (with Tommy as his "helper"). Dream heard about this and offered the to take Wilbur and Tommy from the family so they're house would be safe-

Tommy: he's like those really small Polly pocket dolls that come in little compacts- but his is a little petting zoo with tiny animals, and a spider he adopted.

Then there are two more humans for this au:

For the toys that still wanna be owned but don't want to go back to the person who had them originally- Dream sends them off to a friend of his that owns a pawn shop: Schlatt, and Schlatt doesn't work alone, he has his son Tubbo work around the pawn shop and help Dream out as well. Tubbo doesn't mind though since he's become friends with some of the toys.

Mcyt g/t list:

@trashpumped @lorie-the-little-ghost @encaos @jay-b1rd @wyforyu-gaming @shy-septic-dragon @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @lilsyxx @smogs-0 @hello-world-im-snow

[bansheeoftheforest]

Ramble about angst from amnesia ghost au?

Oh boi here i go

ALSO DO NOT HOLD ME RESPONSIBLE IF I REPEAT STUFF. My brain is teeny tiny pea sized smooth like fucker and I do not remember what we have talked about before and I physically cannot come up with angst by myself <3

Ok ahaha I am not sure! If I came up with new ideas! Or if i accidentally mixed shit!! But !!! My brain physically cannot come up with angst and I TRIED to keep this angsty but... heh <3

At first, of course, Henry doesn’t even realise that he is dead. He wakes up somewhere-- he can see the stars, it’s night, yet the sky is illuminatingly polluted by the warm lights from apartment windows that all seem so far away. His body feels numb, and it’s so silent. He tries to sit up, he feels... Light. 

He feels his chest rising and falling, yet he does not feel himself taking in any air. He is hidden somewhere, he is sitting behind a few dumpsters and rubble, he doesn’t know where he is. He tries to look at his hands, they are see-through. He looks at his legs-- his legs aren’t see-through. It’s not his legs.

He turns, and on the ground where he is sitting, he sees the wrangled corpse of a man-- pale skin and blue lips, hair dirtied with coagulated blood, joints and bones and limbs bent in ways that shouldn’t be possible, clothes torn. The man had just died. He doesn’t recognise the man, but he doesn’t need to. It takes a few moments of staring into those wide-open, empty eyes and then looking back at his transparent body to know that it’s his corpse. But... Why can’t he remember anything?

His head is empty, and not only because he has no physical body. He sees how his tongue has rolled out of his limp mouth of his corpse, he sees the fractures in his skull, he can see the flesh. He has no physical body, but he can still feel it.

He stands up-- or whatever the ghost equivalent to standing up is. He watches his body, he looks down on himself. He is a mirror image of his physical form. He reaches up to his own head, and he can feel the crack in his skull. He reaches to his chest, and he can feel the broken bones poking out through his clothes. 

The body... It’s indifferent to him. At the same time, he gets overwhelmed by such an urge of protectiveness. He doesn’t understand it, not until he hears the footsteps of someone coming closer and closer.

He sees a shadow by the opening of the alleyway. He blacks out. He doesn’t know what he did until he hears an ear piercing scream and sees the body of a woman getting thrown against a wall. He doesn’t know what happened but he knows he did that. He doesn’t feel remorse, no, yet he has no chance of finishing the job before she has already fled screaming from the scene. 

Henry is not done just yet.

Henry does not let anyone go anywhere near the alleyway for a week straight. Anyone who dares come close will feel themselves getting tossed and thrown around like a chewtoy, thrown against walls or other people. It’s not until an unfortunate victim ends up with cracked bones and a hairline fracture in their skull that the police has had enough, they are going to get to the bottom of this. They question victims and witnesses, and in the end, they decide to call in the local ghost expert.

Maijabi arrives at the scene quite quickly, the police part to let him through. Surprisingly, Maijabi actually manages to enter the alleyway with no problem, yet his ghost detection device is beeping in warning. He turns a corner, and that’s when he finds it-- or him. On the floor, bloodied and rotten, lays the corpse of Dr. Henry Jekyll, unrecognisable from the consequences of his gory demise and his many days used as a feast by the rats and stray dogs roaming the neighbourhood. His eyes are gone, his skin has sunken in, patches of flesh has been ripped from his body. Maijabi drops his device. It takes five seconds before the Scotland Yard calls his name and tries to enter the alleyway in fear of the ghost haven taken him as a victim, too. They find Maijabi staring at the corpse, it does not take long for the police to gasp in a mix of fear, disgust, and horror.

They try to get to the body, they try to move it, but as they feared, the ghost as not calmed down. They hear screeches mere moments before they get thrown against a wall, making Maijabi snap out of it.

Ahah wowo i just realized I spent quite a long time with this alone but anyways so I dont repeat that one post; Maijabi manages to trap Henry, his haunting screams of agony only worsens the trauma and horror that has already infected those around him. He screams, he begs, he pleads, but no one can understand what he is saying. It’s not until the cops move his corpse and his wallet falls out that he calms down so slightly, suddenly fixated on nothing but the wallet. Maijabi picks it up and opens it, the first thing he sees is a group picture of all the Lodgers. He places it in Henry’s trap to calm him, and then he takes him back to the Society.

(Well, this is specifically for the vengeful branch of this au branch but ye <3)

Can you imagine the absolute horror and sorrow Maijabi would be going through in such a short time? After all, it was never unusual for Henry to be away for... Well, what’s it been, a week? Now Maijabi is left with Henry who doesn’t know who he is and who wants nothing but to hurt anyone in his path, now he is responsible for telling the other Lodgers.

When Henry isn’t destroying lab equipment or possessing Lodgers, regardless of if he is free to roam or trapped, he will weep and cry but he never knows why. He just feels terrible and lost, sometimes he gets struck by such an overwhelming sense of sorrow and anguish he can do nothing but to... Well, weep. No matter how scared or mad the Lodgers are, they all feel so terrible when the weeping echos throughout the Society.

Henry has the ghost equivalent of PTSD after his death. He gets flashbacks and panic attacks when he suddenly remembers his death or other trauma he suffered throughout his life or death, even if he can’t remember his life. Regardless of if he is generally violent or not, Maijabi always does his best to calm and help him.

Jasper volunteers to let Henry possess him and (I’m going to switch over to when he ISN’T violent for these ones) spends time with him. Henry doesn’t know who Jasper is but he feels a little less lonely and slightly better when he has someone who cares for him and spends time with him. In the beginning, they could only have Henry possessing Jasper for short moments because the poor boy kept getting overwhelmed with Henry’s emotions, and Maijabi and the other Lodgers worried that the amnesiac affect would bleed onto Jasper. It didn’t, though, so while they work on trying to regain Henry’s memories, Henry clings to him. It goes a bit overboard once Henry starts developing separation anxiety, and he constantly worries that something will happen to Jasper.

Jasper keeps having flashes of Henry’s life and how he died. He wakes up crying most of the time, and since Henry is the first person he sees when he wakes up, he gets panic attacks, yet he refuses to let Henry down and make things even worse for him, yet it makes Henry feel worse knowing he is torturing poor Jasper.

If it isn’t the vengeful branch of this au, Henry would be found by Maijabi curled up against the wall where his body was. Maijabi, at that point, would already have known that it’s Henry’s body has the ghost wasn’t violent and the cops could take the corpse no problem. He finds Henry weeping, but he gets overjoyed when he realises that Maijabi can see and hear him. Maijabi leads him back to the Society but Henry never stops crying. Maijabi is not sure if his shirt is wet with blood or his own tears.

Weeping. So much weeping. Exploring the Society while weeping. Dancing in empty ballrooms while weeping. Spying on the Lodgers while trying to stop his weeping. Henry weeps constantly and he can’t stop it. 

The weeping and Henry’s sorrow only got worse when Helsby snapped and told him to shut up. The Lodgers immediately began to yell at Helsby while Henry locked himself into an empty room and cried harder. He doesn’t know what he did wrong or why people don’t like him, he just wants to be liked.

[humanitysstrongestmidget]

Come back to me!

Summary - If only he had been honest with you, if only he had protected you better, if only he had held you tighter then he would have you in his arms still, oh why didn't he do any of that? Will you be gone forever or will you come back into his arms?

Paring - Levi Ackerman x F! Reader

Warnings - one time mentioned sex, angst, very little bit of nausea mentioned, mentions of drinking

REQUEST IS OPEN :-)

PARTS: 1 / 2

________________________________________________________________

Your body was so sore, the sun being so strong was not helping with your condition either, you felt so nauseous and weak. Your knees gave out, making your body fall hard onto the ground you just let your body lay there on the ground, too weak to move. “Y/N! Are you okay!?” Sasha yelled as she and the other members ran towards you, Mikasa and Armin sitting down beside you, slowly and carefully helping you to your feet. They both had one of your arms around their shoulder, supporting your weight since you couldn’t do it yourself. Someone cleared their throat, forcing your friends to stop checking on you and look at their captain, the man who has not as much looked or talked to you all training. It was always like this, you and Levi getting drunk sometimes after a mission and end up in his bed having sex, but then he was ice cold towards you the next few days. The only difference this time was that you didn’t stay the morning after, you left him before he woke up. You were so tired of it and hurt cause you had fallen in love with the stoic man so yesterday you were supposed to end it but as usual, it didn’t go as planned. You looked at him, his face having no emotion so you looked away again, what you didn’t notice was the worry in the man’s eyes, “Ackerman, Arlert, take Y/L/N to Hange, and you two will return to training,” Levi looked at you continuing his sentence, “Y/L/N, you will rest at Hange’s office for the rest of the training and when she is done with her tasks, you can leave her office and clean the stables”. As Armin and Mikasa helped you to Hange’s office, you could hear them both cursing out their captain for making you still do work even though you were not well. All you could focus on was not crying in front of them, the captain’s coldness towards you hurting a lot more than ever before. Especially since you knew the reason on why you were so nauseous 

~TIME SKIP~

A book slamming shut woke you up from your little slumber on Hange’s couch, you slowly sat up on the couch and looked at the said woman. She was packing up her stuff and closes her bag, then looked at you sighing softly, “I’m done, so it’s cleaning stables time for you, unfortunately,” she took your hand, helping you up on your feet and stabilize you before escorting you both out of the office and out to the hallway. Hange closed the door behind you and locked it, she then turned to you putting a hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry that you have to clean the stables when you’re not feeling well. I’ve tried to convince shorty to let you off this one time, but for some reason, the man was cold and stubborn. Which is weird because he’s usually soft towards you, I don’t know what happened?” She looked thoughtful, trying to figure out what happened between you and her friend. Of course, you don’t know, Levi doesn’t want anyone to know about us, you thought to yourself but just shook your head and smiled at Hange, “It’s okay Hange, I’ll just do it quickly and go to bed, don’t worry I will be fine”. She smiled sadly at you and gave your shoulder a pat before heading towards her bedroom, you turned around and started heading towards the stables, this day just couldn’t get any worser than now, could it? Unfortunately for you it could. Just as you rouned the corner a hand came over your mouth and the hand’s owner pulled you into a room. Your body got thrown onto the ground with a hard thud, your legs starting to hurt from the impact of the cold wood floor. Slowly raising your body up from the ground, you looked around the room, trying to figure out the situation. 5 men were standing around you, 2 of them blocking the door, they were just staring at you watching your every move. Their clothes filthy, their faces and arms covered in dirt, they didn’t smell good either. Suddenly one of them, likely the leader, pulled a chair over infront of you and sat down on it, looking at you with a dirty smirk, “Do you perhaps know who we are?” he gestured towards the other boys, you shook your head making a mentally note not to speak without permission for your safety, the man chuckled, “Of course you don’t, Levi doens’t like to talk about his past that much, am I right?”. Your head shoot up, looking shocked at the man before you, they knew Levi? So they were from the underground? He knew your captain, and if so what is the story between them? The man laughed darkly at your expression, “ Judging by your reaction, I’m assuming I am right. You see we have some unfinished business with Levi and you may already know this, but the only way to hurt that man is to hurt the people he care about,” he smiled at you. You glared at him, “ I don’t know what this has to do with me, if you’re trying to hurt him by hurting someone he cares about why me?” The man shook his head and stood up from the chair, “I thought you were smarter than that, oh well my mistake. You see for the past few months we have been keeping an eye on Levi to see if he had a soft spot for someone, and just as we were giving up, one night you appeared. We then noticed how many times you and Levi have spent the nights together, so that’s why we are taking you hostage. It would be very wise of you to follow us without any commotion or we will hurt your dear captain and friends very very badly, also,” the man crouched down in front of you, “ I know the reason why you have been throwing up so much lately, so come with us and we won’t hurt anyone or your body, understood?”. You nodded, looking down, he was right, you couldn’t let your friends get hurt. That night you made a promise to yourself and to Levi, that you would do everything in your power to protect what is yours.

~ 3 YEARS SKIP~

Hange sighed, the members of the survey corps standing before her looked down, “Has anyone seen the captain today?” She asked, everyone shook their heads, “No one has seen Captain for a few days now,” Armin answered her. Hange nodded, just like last year. For a few days ago it was the anniversary of the day you went missing. No one have been able to find you for the past 3 years and it has taken a big toll on everyone but mostly on the captain. He had gotten colder and more closed off, now not even Hange could get through him. Losing you was the last straw to make the poor man’s mentality fall apart. Every year the days up to your anniversary and a few days after Levi would be nowhere to be seen. After finding out you gone, the team had tried to find clues on to where, who and why you had been taken, but after a year the case got cold, and the people needed them to protect them from titans. So they sended some special team out to search for you, Levi’s heart breaking when he found out he was not allowed to go with them. Why, oh why had he been so cold to you that day and made you do the stable job, if only he hadn’t done that you would’ve still be here with them, where you belong. His door bursted open and in came a panting Hange, “Hange, listen whatever you have to say spare it, I don’t wanna hear it,” she shook her head, “ Levi, you gotta hear this”. Just as he was about to protest Hange yelled at him, “THEY FOUND HER, OKAY THEY FOUND Y/N!” She handed him a letter, Levi quickly ripped the letter open and read it through. It was from the special team and Hange was right, they had found you, alive, and would be back with tomorrow. Levi fell onto his knees, his body shaking as he sobbed, Hange sat beside him putting an arm around him, just as relieved as him. 

~NEXT DAY~

Everyone was excited and could barely hide their impatience, they all wanted to see you. Finally after 3 years the team was smilling again. After some hours of waiting, a carriage stopped at the entrance of the yard, the special team members hopping out of it. Levi and the rest of the team were holdning their breaths, no one knew what condition you would be in since it wasn’t written in the letter. Finally you hopped out of the carriage, your hair flowing in the wind and you looked towards your members, smilling brightly at them. They all relased the breath they were holding in and smilled back to you, Levi’s eyes were teary though he would never admit it to the team. Then they all got confused, “Why is she reaching inside the carriage?” Jean asked, to which everyone shrugged, but right after they all gasped. Out of the carriage you helped a toddler down to the ground, and started walking towards the members, holding the little boy’s hand. Everyone looked at Levi with wide eyes and open mouths. Levi himself couldn’t believe what he was seeing, tears now falling freely down his cheeks. There you were walking towards him safe and alive after 3 years of missing, holding hands with a little boy who looked just like him.

[skycruise]

Misha virtual panel Sunday 22 Nov, 2020

Tried to type as much as I could as he spoke. I know the whole thing will probably be up fairly soon so you can watch, but for now--

--He finished shooting in March

--Thought he had mourned the passing of the show & had processed it but finale was an emotional experience, took him out for a couple days

--Thinks the fandom isn’t going anywhere

--Favorite memory making recipe with kids and Vicky, talks about how cookbook came about, West made pasta with jam sauce for Thanksgiving

--Projects for future? Worked on political elections recently, planning to do more of that particularly Georgia in January. Publishing book of poetry. Couple of film projects but not as actor, one he’s interested in directing.

--How do you think Jack brought Cas back? There was a different ending that Covid made impossible, but not supposed to talk about it. Involved bringing back lots and lots of cast members from the past. In original ending, Cas hadn’t gone to rebuild Heaven there was a DIFFERENT CONCLUSION FOR HIM. He did not read the last 2 episodes after the changes. He thinks Cas and Jack are more “ethereal” when rebuilding Heaven. Pure speculation though, he doesn’t know. Will probably be better explored in fan fiction than what he could come up with.

--Fan from Brazil thanks him and asks a question I don’t fully understand. Misha talks about watching the finale with his kids. West and Maison asked him to tell them if a scary part comes up, but he had no idea. Evil clowns “shell shocked” and probably traumatized the kids. West wanted to watch something else to get it out of his head. Went to watch Curb Your Enthusiasm lol. Misha jokes he is doing a shitty job keeping his kids away from the horrors of the world.

--Castiel “melded” with Misha. Cas was just a soldier at first but over time we saw him unfurl so that he didn’t fit in anywhere “fish out of water” but tried to be a good person.

--What is the one thing he will take with him from playing Castiel? A lot. On a professional level, it was fascinating to play a character for so many years. Talked about it with J2, how the characters became part of them over the years. Watching Dean’s death scene, he cried but because it was Cas’s friend Dean. It was a weird thing on an emotional level because the lines were blurry between himself and Cas. He feels he will literally take the character with him. Cas is part of him. Maybe he should double down on therapy to try and untangle him lol. Has a “naive” idea the fandom won’t go away, at least right away. Feels grateful to be a part of that, the fandom community does a lot of great things. 

--Favorite thing to bake with the kids? Pies. Though he doesn’t love pie, but he does bake a lot of them and the kids like them. Favorite kind of pie? Probably strawberry rhubarb. Doesn’t bake enough cakes! Recently made fortune cookies and put little messages inside, he put lewd messages in.

--He wants to know if he’s naive thinking the fandom will be around awhile. Fan says NO he is not.

--Misha also teared up in 15x18.

--Anything more he can say about stuff that didn’t happen in finale that was supposed to? He doesn’t want to be the one to reveal, but what are they going to do, fire him? It was a version of Sam and Dean’s Heaven that was populated with all these people from their past, all of the characters that we love from over the years were there. But COVID. 

--Favorite bts memory with the boys? He doesn’t have one, they were close friends for 12 years, lots of antics. Laughing fits, fights, got pissed off at each other, fondest memories of any work he’s done were on SPN, so much laughing and mirth, he’s going to miss that.

--Why did Cas’s trenchcoat remain intact despite all his deaths? Cas never lost the ability to magically mend his clothing. It made no sense that if he got stabbed or shot, sometimes it ripped the shirt but sometimes it wouldn’t. Or it would be cleaned up by the next episode. They wanted him to look like Constantine at the beginning, costume was 3 sizes too big, finally (he doesn’t remember what season) asked for a better fitting costume. New suit first, then lost the tie but eventually put it back. One season they just got him a whole new wardrobe and never explained it. He stole some trenchcoats.

--Cas’s confession was one scene where there wasn’t much joking around, he needed to be in an emotional state. Sat on a folding chair and ruminated on his own. Stunt coordinator noticed that and just stood by, knew Misha needed his space, it was really sweet. Made sure no one bothered him. Didn’t ask him to do that, it was intuitive & Misha was appreciative. Crew was great about that during heavy scenes.

--How did he feel reading script where Cas dies? Knew it was coming, had had conversations with Bobo, was happy with it. Felt a little risky and brave, was happy to be a part of that. Happy his character could express love like that. Has seen people complain about bury your gays trope and doesn’t think that’s what was happening. Cas is in Heaven, rebuilding Heaven, and also so much good came from that declaration. Cas saved Dean which was essential to saving the world. That declaration saved the world and was of Cas’s own volition, he wasn’t forced to do that, it was his choice & that’s important. Maybe he’s naive but he didn’t think they were playing into that trope. He’s glad Castiel got to express that. He’s proud that the show did that. He’s sure it’s a conversation that will continue to be dissected.

--Will he ever get an SPN tattoo? Hasn’t thought about it, has thought about getting one related to his kids. Is that a “has-been” tattoo? Should he get Jensen and Jared’s faces? LOL. Tattoo of Cas’s face on his abdomen? Nah probably no SPN tattoo.

--3 things he does to be kind to himself? Has a tendency to be hard on himself. Sleep, run, meditate. He feels guilty he doesn’t spend enough time with his kids so he does but doing that he sometimes doesn’t take care of himself as much which makes him grumpier and not a great dad. Balancing act.

--Fave moment of finale was Dean’s death scene. Masterfully executed, well done, excellent performances from J2. Made him cry. 

--Best memory of last day on set. Everyone was being really sweet, lots of tears from crew and cast. Last scene was last thing on Friday, Him Alex, Jensen, Speight had to fly to convention next morning. Finished around 130 am, got on chartered flight, 15 minutes in flash of light and BOOM, one of the engines exploded, circled back to Vancouver and plane was shaking, really scary, during emergency landing they were texting their loved ones because they weren’t sure if they’d see them again

--Did angels get their wings back? Yeah probably. Why wouldn’t they? He misses Castiel’s car though. The Pimpmobile. Had hydraulics. Remembers car jumping up and down because JARED broke it.

--Cas would be a great security guard because he never sleeps. Would not be a great teacher or architect or artist...could be handy in a kitchen though.

--What color are Cas’s wings? Misha always thought they were black, but maybe they’re rainbow colored!

--Worst joke from J2? Jokes J2 are not good people, they got really excited leading up to him directing because they were plotting, they were going to break into his apartment and steal his furniture but Misha was tipped off by crew. Fish left under his car seat, again he was tipped off. One thing he remembers is Jared messing with his directors chair so that he would fall when he sat on it. Fell for it probably 5 times. Also Jared messing up his lines until Misha went to talk to him, which is when he got pied in the face. Everything looked blurry for like 20 minutes, Jensen brought him another shirt & apologized, then during lunchtime Jensen pied him too. 

--How did Cas feel when Jack became new god? Vindicated. Like, “we did it”. Also feels concerned that Jack is no longer Jack. But at his core Jack was still himself.

--Real story behind handprint? He doesn’t know, but it was a nice touch. Doesn’t remember how they came up with that. Great call back to very beginning. Poignant. 

--Favorite Dad joke? The one with the snail getting thrown across the yard and 2 years later asking what was that about.

--Didn’t hear this one well but what I picked up was Favorite con moments? He and Jensen have had really fun panels in Rome

--Favorite version of Castiel to play? Loved playing LuciferCas and HumanCas. Wishes there had been more HumanCas. But regular Cas was his overall favorite, wouldn’t have wanted to trade regular Cas for any other Cas.

--Miss you guys, love you, hopefully see you soon.

[tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar]

Too Late | JJ Maybank

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: When JJ friends figures out what he wants, it's too late for him to have it.

Warnings: Underage drinking, drunk and driving, car cash, death, cursing.

Note: THIS IS VERY ANGST. This is somewhat mostly based on Sarah point of view since I wanted to talk about how she might be dating John B, doesn't mean she knows JJ unlike the others, you know? This idea came to me at 1am while listening to Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol and still not being over reading 'Bury A Friend' by @pogue-writings. I don't know what else to say besides I hope you love it and feedback is very welcome.

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Kiara, Pope and John B are used to it. But Sarah? She isn't. She doesn't understand why or how they don't check on their friend. JJ hasn't shown his face in two days.

"He will say everything is fine if you ask."

"He won't tell you what happened."

"Don't bring up the bruises or cuts." John B says and she wonders out loud, "How do you his dad hurt him again?"

Pope takes a big sigh, "JJ does this everytime it does. He blocks us out. Then when he shows up, he acts like evening is fine and nothing happened."

"He doesn't like us going to his house." Kiara doesn't say home, Sarah notice. "But we can go if his dad isn't there."

Sarah only knows pits and pieces about his father. Like his name and is a drunk, does drug deals with Barry, and how he beats his own son. John B makes sure he doesn't tell her anything that would get his best friend from third grade and life mad.

She knows her boyfriend cares from him. He doesn't get mad if he finds JJ sleeping on the pull out couch, he wakes him up and tells him to pull his ass to the guest room. They have a special bond. She doesn't want in the middle of it, but she wants to be there for JJ and not as his best friend girlfriend. She- and everyone else who takes the time to notice - knows that he cares about his friends more than himself and see them as a family he got lucky to be apart of. The jokes he comes up with make everyone laugh or shake their - Kiara - heads and tell him to shut up. Drunk, high or even sober, he has so much cracked head energy going through him that he is always a life of a party. She misses him yelling at John B and her to get a room when they're just sitting next to each other. It has only been two days and she misses the blonde idiot. The others don't say it out loud either, but everyone notices when Pope looks beside him when he isn't there, how Kiara doesn't as many side comments as much, and how John B looks down at his phone for a long time.

"Okay,yup, that's it. If he gets mad, just tell him to get mad at me. John B, grab the car keys."

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"He's dad truck is gone, so that's a good sign." Pope opens the van door for himself and Kiara to get out.

"Should we knock?" Sarah asks right before John B opens the front door and walks in first. She follows after him. The small of beer is so strong that she feels like her clothes will smell like it. Following him down a hallway, he knocks on what she guesses is JJ's bedroom door.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" She flinch at the tone in his voice from the other side of the closed door. Kiara does too.

"JJ, it's me. Well, me and everyone." John B moves enough to let Pope stand beside him. "Let us in, JJ."

"No- leave me alone!"

"JJ, please." Kiara pleads. Sarah lay a hand her shoulder as she adds, "We just want to make sure you're okay."

The doorknob turning is what they get in response; they take it as a small win and walk in.

It's not how a normally messy teenage boy room should look like it. It's worse.

It look like a hurricane came in his bedroom. His bed is a mess, blankets, sheets, and pillows thrown at every direction. The walls are now bare, the posters ripped and the pieces are on top of the clothes from his closet and dresser- two drawers- that got thrown. His small desk is cleared off, everything on the floor.

JJ is standing right in the middle of it all, arms out. "I was in the middle of redecorating." A dry laugh gets caught in his throat.

Kiara trips over things as she rushes over to him but stops when he jumps back.

Sarah puts a hand over hear beating heart when John B let's out a broken, "JJ? What the hell happened?" He gets closer to him than Kiara did. She's trembling slightly, a hand covering her mouth.

Pope slowly moves to stand near John B. He gulbs. His friends cheecks are sallow, eyes red with dark circles underneath. "Talk to us,JJ."

"I-I just did," he mutters.

Sarah steps up towards. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can help-"

"NO! YOU CAN'T HELP ME! NO ONE CAN HELP ME!" His voice echos and no one say or move. "It's too late! I can't- I can't fix it! She's gone and I-fuck!" He tugs on his hair and his shoulders are moving up and down with his heavy breathing.

"She?"

This isn't about this his dad? Then who is it-

Sarah remembers what happened two days ago and it makes her own breathing getting heavier. How did she not figure it out sooner?

JJ, Pope, John B and Sarah decided to hangout at The Wreck while Kiara was working. Pope was trying to get JJ to stop throwing French Fries at him by throwing them right back. John B was smiling at his friends with a arm on the back of Sarah's chair. She stopped drinking her shake when she saw Kiara walking up to them, looking like she just saw a ghost.

"Kie? What's wrong?" JJ stands up and walk over to her, putting her at arm reach to see if he can see if he got psychical hurt.

"My dad, he just told me that he was happy that we are all okay and when I asked him why- he told me that there was a car accident last night? The driver, Blake made it luckily but barely but Y/N-" She doesn't need to say the rest.

Kiara legs give out on her as she cries, pulling on the matching homemade friendship bracelet. She was supposed to meet up with her later at the beach for their weekly clean up. She always brings her Bluetooth speakers and plays songs she reccomends.

"Oh my god," John B is frozen in his chair. He knows her from school. They have the same consular and when they find themselves in the waiting area at the same time, they talk about everything else but why they're there. It always makes him nerves calm down.

"Are you sure?" Pope asks, voice cracking. He just talked to her a couple of days again, giving her tips on how to dress and talk for her own scharoship interview. He told her to be just herself and she laughed and said, "no one can handle that."

Sarah never really had a real conversation with her besides the one time in a bathroom one year during Midsummer. She was sitting on the counter, scrolling through her phone. When she laughed out loud, Sarah thought she was probably laughing at her. "What? No! I'm laughing at this meme, look!" They spent the next hour sitting on the counter.

JJ kicks the door of The Wreck open before storming off.

"JJ, are you talking about-"

"No. Don't say it. Not say her name. Don't." His finger shakes rapidly as he points at Sarah, glaring at her as tears steam down his face.

"How could he so fucking stupid? He got behind the wheel drunk! He knew he was drunk still let her get in the car with him! Did you know they were only a couple of miles away from her home? Yeah, he drove right into one of her neighbors front yard and their tree." He wails as he falls on his knees.

"I should've gone. She even asked me if I wanted to come with but I said no and called her crazy to think I would go to a Kooks party. But I would've- I would've gone with her if I wasn't nervous! I- I was thinking on how to tell her when she texted me. Now I'll never be able to tell her I loved her."

Saying 'loved' instead of 'love' out loud for the first time is what breaks him and everyone else.

Kiara let's out a wet hiccup and pulls him close, his face on her chest as she puts her chin on top of his head. His fist gets covered by Pope' hand, holding on tight as he sits next to them.

John B curses under his breath and makes a metal note in his head to never ever take his best friend for granted ever again. He knew. He knew about JJ silly school girl like crush on her and even told him to ask her out and hyped him up. Somehow he stupidity forgot, too busy in his own grief. He thought that when JJ ran away and never came back, his dad probably did something.

"I can't act like everything is fine and nothing happened!"

John B wraps his arms around the others and whispers, "I'm so sorry, JJ. We're here. It's okay, let it out. We got you buddy." Over and over again.

Sarah joins the group hug and swears to herself for now on, JJ must be protected at all costs.

When they all get back The Chateau, they all grab the bags and boxes they filled up with JJ things.

"Thank you." It's soft and quiet, but she heard it and gives him a small smile.

"Anytime, JJ."

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Tagging the amazing people who normally likes the other stuff that I write (don't be offended if I didn't tag or did tag you) @skatespitfire @sadserenadex @sexualparkour @jenahbell @snkkat @perfektionsmakel @boobear729 @latenitewolves @kiarasflowr @afterglowsb-tch13 @baby3456 @pixelated-pogues @immbabyyygracieee @afrikitten @ckline35 @i-want-to-eat-all-the-fries @katerosexx @maybanksbaby @nawels @lolepiclydabs @harrysbbby @tomhardybby

[beebleboosuwu]

Fic: Took My Days With You

I originally posted this on AO3 but wanted to share this with y’all:

There’s one thing that she hated the most about herself:

The fact that she grew up.

Lydia didn’t want to, but that was a part of life. She left fifteen years ago to pursue her dream career of becoming a photographer. Her success with that led to her becoming an author and multiple of her publications became New York Times hits. Her autobiography came soon after, and people were enthralled by her life story. Obviously she had to leave out the... interesting bits of her teenage years other than telling her audience that she lived in a house where the previous tenants died and telling them that she could feel their presence everywhere she went in that house. And she told her story to all who would listen, they seemed to enjoy it claiming that it was all in the name of fiction but to her it was real. When she left, all five of her family members waved farewell and wished her the best of luck. Delia and Charles helped her pack, Adam and Barbara made provisions and supplies for her trip and Beetlejuice, the sentimental bastard, waited and bid farewell to her on the roof where they met. But one devastating phone call from Skye sent Lydia into a panicked frenzy, she hurriedly left her home of Salem, Massachusetts to Winter River, Connecticut. With her car supplied for only a week's worth of clothes, and now 40 years old, she returned to her home. She was always nearby, and never too far from her family, she didn’t have the heart to go that far.

Lydia drove past the sign of Winter River with a somber look on her face, her black convertible rolling down the familiar town. The town didn’t change much, it was still a small town and the nostalgia factor was striking a hard chord in her. She couldn’t stop the wetness running down her cheeks though.. This is where she grew up and now…. it’s gone..

Not like gone, but in the more ‘this no longer feels like home’ vibe. She had a home and lost that one with the death of her mother, but she rebuilt a new one with a second set of (ghost) parents and a strange and unusual best friend. Lydia could see it in the distance, a raggedy looking building faded with age. The surrounding hill hasn’t changed, other than the fact that her dad actually pulled through with that gated community deal with a different partner other than that snob Maxie Dean. It was a nice area though, multiple houses lined the way to her house, or rather the ‘flagship model home’ her dad nicknamed it so long ago.

She pulled up to the driveway, taking note of the dead vegetation around the property. She hasn’t been back in years, and it certainly has seen better days. The paint was chipping off from the wind, and there wasn’t even a strong breeze blowing. No one has lived here for a couple years either. Her father and stepmother died 3 years ago and she never got the chance to return to Winter River. She was always so busy, and whatever time she had to herself, she would throw herself into her work. Always working on the next big thing that her fans would enjoy.

The windows had been covered with wood and the door was left wide open. Multiple cans of bear and graffiti littered the front porch and the front door. Lydia was afraid to enter in, not because of the ghosts that she hoped were still in there, but how empty it looks from the outside.

She left her things in a hotel already and chose to come straight here rather than getting some rest. The hotel manager so it seem, was a big fan of Lydia’s and asked if she was going to return to her house that she used to live in. Rather than disclose that information, she said no. He said it was a shame what happened to her old house, it fell out of repair and no matter how many times realtors wanted to sell it, no one would buy it. According to the locals, no one would buy and live In a house that is haunted by its old occupants. It also became a place that was frequented by juveniles to get a good scare from this place. Which did work cause they claimed that some monster always chased them out. She knew who it was and the reason for Skye’s call:

The monster sightings and other weird stuff happening in her old house suddenly ceased.

The porch creaked beneath her feet, as if the wood would snap at any moment. Normally the Maitlands would come rushing out and greet her at the door and Beetlejuice would be in the living room watching whatever he wanted to, but there was nothing, and that definitely made Lydia pause her advancement towards the rickety old house. Her nose wrinkled from the old, wet, wood smell emanating from the house.

Lydia trudged on anyway and went past through the threshold, and what she saw saddened her. The roof had given out at one point and that pile of wood was tucked away to the side. The living room was a mess, riddled with dust and more garbage thrown around. And call her crazy for keeping it, but the sculpture that she used to stab Beetlejuice with was knocked over. The stand was crushed to smithereens and the pole and the adorning head piece laid far away. The pole was resting by the fireplace and the spiky headpiece was near the base of the stairs. Multiple photos of herself and her family were callously left on the floor, leaving the glass frame shattered and the photos caked with grime.

“Adam? Barbara?” Lydia called out to the empty house, “Lawrence?” her demon adopted brother would usually hiss at her for using his first name, and she got no response from her ghost parents or Beetlejuice. “Anyone home? It’ me, Lydia!” She called again, but only the echoing tones of her voice reached her.

She entered the kitchen next, leaving her just as devastated. The stove had been ripped out of the wall and the table was smashed to pieces, knives, pots and other cooking utensils were scattered on the island, sink and counter tops. the backdoor to the garden was no better. The door hung off its hinges and the backyard was full of dead grass and weeds, like the entire life of the house just disappeared.

Scared of what that entailed, she rushed towards the staircase and climbed up it without disregard. The hand rail fell off the moment she touched it but ran up, ignoring the protesting groans of the wood. She had to know.

She had to.

The hallway was filled with odd bits and bobs of the rooms, a smashed mirror was on the floor, a mattress was laid against the wall, pieces of metal stuck out from the mattress too. Making it seem that someone repeatedly stabbed the thing multiple times. Lydia cautiously stepped around the debris to head towards the door to the attic and out of all things that were destroyed, the door was the only one that looked like it hadn't been touched.

With hope rejuvenating her system, she busted down the door only to find no one inside. The attic was an absolute mess, the room was torn inside and out. Barbara and Adam’s bed was ripped to shreds, the love seat’s ripped and the fluff from inside the cushions were strewn along the floor, Adam’s model town was no longer here and Barbara’s clay pots lay shattered on the shelves. The window opening to the roof is left wide open causing a draft into the room. There was a small pile of clothes in the middle of the room, all looking like it was haphazardly thrown there.

“Adam? Barbara? Beej?” Lydia pleaded to the open air that one of them are still around. “Please, I’m here!” Now she couldn’t stop the tears from forming, “Beetlejuice? Ghost-mom? Ghost-dad? Where are you?!” Lydia started to feel the adrenaline and panic flood into her system, she frantically went to every nook and cranny of the attic throwing anything that might have obscured a hiding ghost, but no luck. There was no trace of the ghost couple and the green haired demon here. Her tearful gaze turned towards the roof, she checked every room of the house and no one responded to her calls.

The cold, crisp autumn air embraced her once more.. The weathervane rusted beyond recognition and the barriers between the edge of the roof and the solid ground she stood on were missing, most likely they were the things stabbed into the mattress. A hoarse scream left her throat and Lydia sunk onto her knees clutching her chest.

They were gone… She was alone, again. Forsaken. Invisible.

Her family has been scattered to the winds, Dad and Delia have expired, only days apart the doctor said. Lydia alone paid for the funeral and their gravesites to be dug, she didn’t return to Winter River. Instead she went straight into her work and wrote a hit, “The Demon Among Us.” It was about her experience with a literal demon, but over analytical professors and English majors chalked up her demon character (Beetlejuice) and said it was a personification of depression. Which would have been awesome… if that was what she wrote about.

Adam and Barbara were nowhere to be found, and the house they loved so much was falling apart. Their precious items, littering the lawn to the backyard to the front yard. If they could see what had happened, they would be surely hopeful and ready to fix it.

Beetlejuice didn’t appear instantly when she called his name, and since Juno was eaten by that Sandworm… Beetlejuice never had a problem with saying his name or getting anyone to say it. He did mention there was a slight tug from the after effects of the curse being lifted, but other than that he said it was manageable.

Lydia cried onto the roof tiles, the family she had built… vanished.

She pounded the ground, cursing herself for not making time, screaming that her life was taken away from her hands again. This was worse than when Emily died, back then she had her father to talk to about things like this. Delia would give insight of finding distractions to move past grief.. While Barbara and Adam gave Lydia a shoulder to cry one whenever she was upset. Beetlejuice made her laugh again and even though he was dead, or born-dead, he made her see that life is worth living. That even if it is a struggle, she could pull through.

Now they were not here, her decaying memories and odd photos of the family were the only things that helped remind her that they existed and were real to her.

“Lydia?”

Lydia turned around to find the familiar stench and sight of her black and white striped demon best friend. She gasped, got up and ran towards her friend. The demon had his arms wide open for her to collide into which she crashed into wholeheartedly.

“Beetlejuice…” she cried into his lapel.

“Heya scarecrow.. nice to see ya. You’ve changed.” Beetlejuice shakily rubbed her back.

“And you haven’t,” she let go to take a good look at him, “Oh Beej, your hair.”

Beetlejuice sadly smiled, his hair being a deep purple with even darker blue tips, his dress shirt was tinged purple too. She now got a better look at him, his face, stained with tears and wrinkle lines dominated his forehead. His eye bags were heavy as if he didn’t sleep for a long time. “I know.” He replied, “Things happened when you were away.”

“What happened?”

“The Maitlands…” His breath hitched. “They’re gone.”

Lydia stared at Beetlejuice and waited for the punchline. This was Beetlejuice, he was a prankster. Lydia laughed a little.

“You’re joking right?” She playfully shoved him, “They probably moved to the Netherworld, did you check there?”

“I checked… They aren’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious. They’re gone… Adam, Barbara… They vanished.” Beetlejuice rubbed his shoulder, “I’ve searched the Netherworld top and bottom, they aren’t there.”

Lydia stood dumbfounded, staring at Beetlejuice with wide-eyes.

“Here, I’ll tell ya what happened.”

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2 years ago

The couple scared off its next batch of kids that thought it was cool to party when the Maitlands were around still, haunting their now decaying house. Beetlejuice hung around giving the ghastly couple tips on what could be scary for these new kids coming in and trashing their house. Delia and Charles passed peacefully during a trip at their vacation spot in Lake Tahoe. They never got to go to the funeral, but letters addressed to Lydia were mailed here. Offering condolences to her and informing any other occupants that the Deetz couple have passed away.

The house quickly fell in disarray, Barbara and Adam couldn’t step outside the house in fear of being teleported to Saturn and being eaten by a Sandworm, so the plant life outside died. Beetlejuice tried to revitalize the plants by gardening, but nothing he did made the grass green again and the plants to grow. Barbara and Adam tried their best to coach Beetlejuice but the pants wouldn’t grow. Nothing was growing in the house.

At one point, during a cold winter, the three had become a throuple. Barbara initially asked Beetlejuice if he was interested, and with Adam’s happy smile, the three became a relationship. They slept on the same bed, kept each other company, and scared everyone who dared enter their territory. They kept the house unoccupied in hopes of Lydia returning one day.

But she never did.

One day when Beetlejuice was finishing scaring off a particular group of kids who seemed impervious to his usual tactics, returned to the attic to celebrate another successful spook, only to find no one there. Thinking it was a joke, Beetlejuice playfully rummaged through the attic to find his partners. Nothing. The roof was next and still: nothing. He checked all points of the house and each empty room he entered, he got more worried and scared that they have been abducted into the Netherworld by one of Beetlejuice’s enemies. After Juno, a lot of Netherlings seemed to come after Beetlejuice. He easily deflected them off but now if they came after the people he loved then there would be hell to pay.

He investigated the attic once more to see if there was any sign of struggle but there was nothing. Not even evidence of a door being open to the Netherworld. He checked anyway, he drew his passageway to the Netherworld and entered. Beetlejuice asked multiple people if they have seen the couple anywhere, and all of them have said they haven’t. Even Miss Argentina said she never saw them, and they were decades past their date of death. If they came through to the Netherworld, she would’ve seen them.

Beetlejuice returned to the house with a broken heart, and fearing the worst, he thought they were done with life. Done with him, and teleported themselves to Saturn for suicide. But that didn’t sit right with him, Adam and Barbara said they loved him. That they cared for him, was that all a lie?

Beetlejuice transported himself to Saturn to search for his partners, and when a Sandworm started following him and nudging at his palm, he concluded that Sandy was the one who followed him and consumed the Maitlands. At first he was furious, hair flushed a deep red and yelled at the Sandworm to spit out the couple, if he was there early enough they could be still alive within the Sandworm. Sandy tilted her head to the side like a dog, confused why Beetlejuice was yelling at her.

He continued to berate the worm into telling him where they are, but Sandy only stared with puzzlement.

Beetlejuice cried and begged Sandy to show him where they at least ended up so he could say goodbye on top of their graves, she agreed and took both Beetlejuice and herself back to the attic. She shrunk and dragged herself to the middle of the attic and curled around herself.

Beetlejuice finally understood.

The Maitlands have… died, again.

After some time, if they don’t go to the Netherworld, ghosts usually fade into nothingness. He has seen it a couple times, and all of them writhed and squealed with pain. It was sudden too, you never know when it will happen. Beetlejuice had gotten enthralled with the prospect of being loved for the first time that he forgot about this and he paid the price.

He then let an anguished cry, and laid on top of the floor. He was unable to hold them as they reduced to ash and disappeared into the void. He scratched the floor and roared. The entire house shook, and he left the attic in a flurry of rage and grief. Beetlejuice tore through each room, tearing it asunder and plowing it of all  memory of a happy family within each wall. He grabbed the metal spikes from the roof and stabbed them into a mattress, he tore the oven out of the kitchen wall and threw it out the door. He brought his fist through the table and slit his arms with the knives over and over again. Causing them to bleed over and over again. He smashed Delia’s sculpture next, throwing each piece to the opposite ends of the room. He returned to the attic and smashed Barbara’s pottery and set Adam’s model ablaze.

He blamed them, he blamed himself for falling in love, he blamed their stupidity for not heading to the Netherworld when they had a chance, he blamed the universe. Cursing it. It took away his happiness and he would burn down the world to force people to feel how he felt.

But he couldn’t, it would dishonour their names. It would dishonour his love to them, he won’t hurt anyone. He’ll scare off anyone who comes nearby the grieving demon.

People started coming in troves everyday, and it was fulfilling at first… But without them, it meant nothing. Beetlejuice became defeated, each scream never satisfied him as much anymore. Not without them.

He collected a pile of Adam and Barbara’s clothing and placed them in the middle of the attic floor and he would sleep on it, and he would dream the sweetest dreams. Adam and Barbara cuddling him and making him feel loved. He would dream of everyone, Barbara, Charles, Delia, Adam and Lydia having a great time. He would dream of Christmas parties and softer moments with his partners. Sometimes he dreamt of memories, a kiss there, a fleeting touch, a smell from Barbara’s perfume and Adam’s cologne would linger in the air when he suddenly woke.

He always woke up crying, knowing that he’ll never have them again.

And one day, he wrote a note:

To the Maitlands,

For the past couple of months I haven’t been able to sleep much or if not, not sleeping at all. I mean, I already had problems sleeping but with your disappearance, it got worse. By all means, this does not seem like I am pointing fingers or blaming anyone… Although it is easy to blame someone for something.. I loved and still love you guys. I still do… I mean it, one hundred percent. All those little kisses we shared, stay with me everyday. Any place I want to be, I want you guys here with me. With you guys, my whole undead life found meaning again. My world, my days, my nights, my hopes, my dreams, was there in front of me and I didn’t do anything about it. This place fills me sorrow, and I can’t bear being here without you two.

Thinking back, you had grand ideas and many stories that the world should’ve heard. All the things you’ve told me were fascinating. All those conversations we’ve had will always be in my memories. Even forgotten, they will be there.

Each day it is depressing to know that I’ll never get to see you two ever again. You guys had so many things to do, and I was left with those broken hopes and dreams. I’ll never get to see your happy faces and feel the same happiness you two gave me, this hurts beyond human and even demon comprehension.

You know, all the time I ever smile and laugh, I instantaneously frown and have a huge wave of sadness run over me. The thought of: “why are you happy? You don’t deserve to be happy.” shut me down. Even with the sweaters and photos left behind, it has both given me great relief and immense sadness. Cause it is a constant reminder that you’re not here with me.. Selfish as it is, I just wished I would’ve spent one more day with you. And I would do anything to have that one last day.

I am haunted with each day that passes. Most, if not all, of my dreams always have you in them. I see you, I hear you, I feel you. When I wake, I loathe to get out of bed. Cause I want to be with you, even if it was just a dream.

Countless memories flood my mind each night before I sleep. From the time I harassed you two, and to the time where we three fell in love. I am overcome with joy and sadness when thinking with those memories. And I’m sad I can’t make more with you. I don’t sleep until 3 or even 5 AM because the thought of seeing you in my dreams puts me in great agony and some nights I lay in anticipation for you to come barreling to my room saying that more breathers have entered the house.

I’m sorry that I’m saying all of this now that you’re gone. I’m sorry I think about you every night. I’m sorry for my brash and lewd nature. I’m sorry that I didn’t make enough time for you two. I’m sorry that I didn’t try hard enough. And I know I am apologizing for nothing but it hurts. Everything hurts. Everyday I’m putting on a mask to hide my emotions because I’m afraid.

I will never stop looking for you in this house. I will never stop hearing your booming laughter in these hallowed halls. I will never take down your photos. I will never stop being your friend and lover.

Everyone knew that there was something wrong with all three of us being dead and all… You two knew what was wrong with me, and I to you. We comforted each other at times, You guys were smart. Funny. Talented and beautiful. And undeniably sexy. A couple with hearts of gold.

I love and miss you guys,

BJ

Beetlejuice wrote multiple letters that he left scattered to the winds, and everyday he thought it was all a nightmare and he would wake up to find them on top of him smiling their bright smiles at him. But no, he would wake up to empty air and breathers rummaging around the house. Beetlejuice kept the door to the attic shut and would lock each time a breather would try to pick the lock.

He hoped that they would walk in through a portal from the Netherworld and make him feel better but it never happened. Days passed, weeks, months and eventually a year.

He laid unmoving from the pile of clothes, until a voice called out to the empty house.

“Adam? Barbara? Lawrence? Anyone home? It’s me-“

It was Lydia.

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At one point during his retelling, Lydia and Beetlejuice went to the roof and sat on the edge just like they used to do. They cried together, comforted each other. Lydia hugged Beetlejuice when he stopped to catch his panicking breath, and returned it to Lydia when she curled into herself. They stayed like that for minutes and finally moved when Lydia stood.

She wiped her eyes, “Beej we have to leave. It’s not healthy for us to stay here,” she looked over to the setting sun. “I rented a place here for a week, it would be nice if I had a friend with me,” Beetlejuice opened his mouth but was cut off by Lydia, “I know, I want to stay here too, grab a picture of them and grab a piece of their clothing and maybe find their perfume and cologne”

“But what if they come back?” Beetlejuice asked her, with desperate hope in his eyes.

“I… wouldn’t bet on it Beej,” she sadly replied, “Here I’ll help you grab some stuff.”

Lydia headed back towards the house with Beetlejuice following. They grabbed one of Adam’s green flannels and one of Barbara’s oversized coats. During her time in this house, she found a way to take a picture of the ghost couple, and Beetlejuice took the family photo and stuffed it within his suit pocket. Barbara’s perfume and Adam’s cologne was stuffed in a closet that was full of their junk, Lydia quickly did a search on her phone. Luckily enough, the companies that made the perfume and cologne still made them.

Their treasures in hand, they headed towards Lydia's car in silence. They both got in and headed towards the hotel.

“Wait, before night falls, I have to show you something.” Lydia quickly made a detour, and reared towards the graveyard.

“Lyds, the graveyard?” He asked incredulously.

“Just wait, I came here once and discovered something. Got that letter with you still?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ll see.” Lydia smiled at her demon best friend.

They pulled into the parking lot and Lydia frantically left her vehicle, yakking at Beetlejuice to come after her. She has been here before and quickly went down the path. During the ride, Beetlejuice had changed into Adam’s flannel and donned Barbara’s coral coat. It was warm underneath, and he could still smell them.

“M….” Lydia scanned through the multiple rows. “Here! Lawrence come on!”

Beetlejuice slowly trudged down the path, meeting Lydia at two gravestones. Two gravestones, engraved with the Maitland’s names. A little poem alternating between the two headstones:

Warm summer sun,

   Shine kindly here,

Warm southern wind,

    Blow softly here.

Green sod above,

   Lie light, lie light.

Good night, dear heart,

    Good night, good night.

Beetlejuice immediately seized and collapsed to his knees, hugging the two marbled stones.

“I’ll be in the car if you need anything,” Lydia rubbed his shoulder and left Beetlejuice there crying.

“Thank you Lydia.” Beetlejuice looked at her with sad eyes.

Lydia nodded and walked away, her boots digging into the gravel path, the sound retreating as she got further and further away.

Beetlejuice rubbed the gravestones longingly, hoping that wherever they ended up that they might feel his soothing touch. Lydia brought him here to say goodbye and to leave the letter he wrote.

He couldn’t do It right away, but opted to sit there a little while longer. It seemed like ages went by but he knew that Lydia would be in the car and she had to go to bed and eat sometime. He’d hate to leave but he could always teleport here anytime. Beetlejuice bit down on his thumb, biting down hard enough to make it bleed. Knowing a rune that he had learned as a child, smeared his blood on Adam and Barbara’s grave. A triangle and three circles on each point and then a small inverted heart in the middle. He’s going to come here often.

Beetlejuice summoned a bouquet of flowers for each of them.

For Adam:

Rosemary

A Crimson Rose

Purple Hyacinth

Red Carnation

For Barbara:

Pink Carnation

Primrose

Sweet Pea

Forget-me-nots

He placed them and stood up, but before he would forget, he dug a little hole where he stuffed his letter in. They wouldn’t read it, but having it nearby their graves made it feel like that would.

He returned to the car soon after, and let himself in. Lydia had it running and was ready to go when he got in.

“Thanks again,” Beetlejuice said softly.

“You needed closure and you can always come back,” Lydia leaned over her seat and hugged her best friend again. “I’ll miss them everyday.” She sighed. Beetlejuice nodded his head in agreement, it was a small movement but nonetheless it was seen. His hair throughout this entire interaction has never reverted to its usual green, staying on that deep purple and blue. Lydia let go and drove to her hotel.

It will never be the same for Beetlejuice ever again, he loved them and knows he’ll never see them again and will never feel that same love again. Sure, Lydia is his best friend, but nothing would fill that void left in his unbeating heart after today. Lydia reassured him that time heals all wounds and even she missed her dead mom, dad and step-mom but it got easier when she met people like Beetlejuice to make her feel better. He had a little flutter in his chest but paid no mind to it. He wished that he didn’t have to live this cursed world, but having good company made it worth the while.

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

They watched the car drive past the graveyard gates from up above, tears flowing down their faces. They didn’t want to fade away but that’s the next progression of their after life. They initially believed that the Netherworld was definitely the end, but here? The Aether was just as everyone imagined it to be, like the Netherworld, they were forbidden to interact with the realms but they could watch whenever and whom ever they pleased.

This made Adam and Barbara so happy. They loved Beetlejuice and it broke their hearts seeing him mope for months until Lydia stopped by. They wanted to hug them but it was not allowed.

“Thank you Beetlejuice, we love you.” Barbara whispered.

“Lawrence, I’ll never forget you.” Adam wiped away a tear from his face.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E7; Chapter Seven, The Lost Sister - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

In their search for answers, psychic visions draw Eleven and Y/n to a band of violent outcasts and an angry girl with a shadowy past.

||Reader's POV||

I stare at my reflection studiously. I now stood in a pair of baggy ripped jeans for someone at least a foot taller than me - though I dread to think what the clothes that didn't fit me looked like. I had to cuff them at the ankle as well as hike them around my wrist - thankfully Funshine had supplied a belt. He had also given me three shirts which had confused me at first, but I realize it was a good thing. Given how cold it was, it was wise to dress in layers. Funshine had given me a long white shirt, and an old and faded Rolling Stones tee shirt to go over it. As an added layer, a red flannel that hung over the tucked-in shirts.

I wasn't quite used to this style, but I have to say, I do kinda like it. Mom always bought our clothes, and while she did support us branching out and trying different things she always found a way around getting stuff like this. It didn't look half bad, and it was certainly warm.

Sighing, I look around the room. Besides the fire pit where my clothes are sitting nearby to dry, the room is lit by a giant sign for some sort of psychic.

Ironic.

I can hear bickering and mixed laughter downstairs, and I wander out to the balcony unsure of what I'm supposed to do now. I step back out of view, not wanting to get caught and I begin looking around. I see another stairway, and streaming through the top is a small pale gray of light. Hesitantly, I climb towards it, careful to keep my footing light.

I can hear cars passing outside as I approach the corner at the top of the stairs and I can feel a cool breeze. Cautiously, I turn the corner and I see a door labeled, ROOF ACCESS sitting ajar propped open by a brick. I catch a brief glimpse of Kali talking to El, and I realize if I can see her she could easily see me. Slowly, I readjust myself around the corner when I catch the words she speaks to El.

"What you can do is incredible. It makes you very special, Jane."

I stop, unable to make myself move and against my better judgment I stay to listen. I have to strain to hear El's soft-spoken words, but I hear them.

"Wait," she says. "Do you have a gift?"

"Different," she says. "I can make people see, or not see, whatever I choose."

I frown, my mind conjuring thousands of possibilities and weaving intricate webs that feed my anxiety.

"Is that why you made the man with the crazy hair dance?" El asks.

"Axel is not so fond of spiders, so..."

"You made him see spiders?"

There was a moment of silence, but soon enough I hear voices again.

"But it doesn't have to be scary," Kali says. "This butterfly, it isn't real. I've just convinced your mind it is. Think of it as a kind of magic."

Curiosity gets the best of me, and slowly I peek around the corner. I see Kali and El staring into up into the air, and El even swipes a hand above her head. It's a strange sight, but I know she is seeing something I am not. And that frightens me, what a dangerous power to have. Kali swipes at the air, her clenched fist retracts and her palm slowly opens revealing nothing.

I return my back against the wall when I hear El speak again.

"Are you real?"

"Yes, I'm real."

There is another silence, and it is broken moments later when I hear them break into giggles. I feel my heart clench and I sigh inwardly, ready to return to my room. But something stops me.

"Jane, you told me that your friend came here to help you, right?"

I freeze, my feet rooted in place.

"Yes."

She waits for a moment, then speaks slowly. Her voice has grown serious once more, and the tone she has when speaking about me to El rubs me the wrong way. It's like she's putting words in El's mouth.

"Something tells me there is more that story. That's an awful long way to come for a friend."

"She's like us. She has a gift."

"Really?" Kali says. "But I thought she grew up with those boys you spoke of? The ones that helped you."

"She did. But she came from the lab. She would have been called Nine."

This pause was the most damning and by far the most deafening. I could practically see the look on her face without having to turn the corner and I tried desperately to calm my heart. Again, I knew there was no logic behind this anxiety, but I did trust the feeling completely.

I didn't know what to do, or what to think and the pause must have been significant enough for El to speak up.

"What's wrong?" El asked.

I heard Kali sigh, and she proceeded to take several harsh breaths and she spoke very slowly to El.

"Was her mother [y/m/n]?"

"Yes," El said, a hint of surprise.

"Jane, do you realize just how much she has affected our lives?"

"No?"

"You say you don't remember our time together, no?" Kali asks slowly. "Well, things were a little different before the missing experiment."

"How?"

"You see, back in the rainbow room, we got to play. You say you saw this? We weren't as isolated or kept apart. But when she went missing, our lives got a whole lot harder."

"The room..." El said, her voice cracking.

"Yes, Jane, the room. I remember it too. These men that took us, took our lives, they grew very mad and very frightened when your friend escaped, and they took it out on us. The lab was never a good place, but at least we had our sanity, but they took that away too when she left."

"I remember when we went into lockdown, men stormed my room and ripped me from my toys. I was thrown in the room and I didn't come out for another day and a half. I was relocated every night, for four nights in a row. And I never saw you again, until now."

"What... are you saying?"

"Jane, let me put it this way. Does it not bother you that not only did your friend get a better life than us, but our lives were made worse because of it?"

"Well, yes. But it wasn't her fault. It was her mothers." El said confused.

I smiled.

"Maybe so, but think about it. Do you really think this friend of yours truly understands what we go through? What you go through, every day? She does not have the memories we do, she does not know the life we have lived, the bad times. She has grown up in a nice home, with a loving family. She does not understand our pain. So do you really think she could understand us?"

This time, El didn't say anything. Once again, I was wrong before. This silence was more deafening and far more damning. I felt the anger return, boiling up in my chest.

"And that is why I want you to stay. Don't you see? This could be your home, you said it yourself, we're sisters. I can teach you how to harness your anger, and strengthen your gift. We'll look after each other. We understand each other. Y/n will never understand you. But I do. Would you like that, Jane?"

Never in a million years would I expect El go side with her, but she did and I could feel my heart break into two.

"Home."

Hot anger rises to my cheeks, and I feel the heat radiating off my face. Hotly, I turn on my heel and trudge down the steps, not caring if I'm heard and I think of returning to the room but decide against it. Instead, I stomp downstairs and past the group drawing several curious glances. I ignore their comments and I rip the door open and run outside. I run and run and run, never ceasing until my lungs tire. I stop and look around, panting and I find myself in an abandoned train yard.

I try to calm my racing thoughts but they only grow stronger and faster, buzzing around my head like a swarm of hornets. I every needle of anger I felt in the past year pricking my nerves and push me to the edge, I feel every bruise anyone has ever inflicted upon me with every dagger thrown my way.

I collapse on my knees, wailing, finally allowing every feeling, every emotion I have had to repress come back with a vengeance. Head in my knees, my palms pound against the pavement and I feel a huge rush of adrenaline and relief. The wind carries my hair as I scream and I feel a gush of warm air. My hands find their way through my hair and my fingers claw at my scalp. I feel my jeans grow wet but I know it is only from my tears this time, and I take several deep breaths.

Sobs still wracked my body and it is a long while before I finally pull my head up from legs. My eyes are puffy, but I am still able to see the large cracks traveling along the pavement around me.

I look around myself in wonder, the once smooth pavement beneath me had cracked and split into several veins and tendrils spiking. I hadn't even noticed, the ground below me had shifted and quickly stumbled to my feet. Right where I had been sitting the pavement had caved in between the two breaking points where my palms had made the fracture. I looked on in amazement at what I accidentally have done.

Logically, I know I caused this.

I choke back a defeated laugh, but then I allow it to happen. For the first time, I feel truly myself. Kali was right, I don't belong here. But I don't want to belong here.

I have no reason to stay. I could help Will like I said I was doing in the first place. I could go home. And I will. There's no decision, no should I stay or should I go. El could stay if she wanted, but I'm going to go.

I'm going home.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

By the time I reach the warehouse, my anger has grown tepid. But my mind is still made up. I'm leaving, tomorrow, first thing. But that didn't mean I couldn't still try to talk to El. When I enter the warehouse, I'm relieved I don't have the same worries as last. The downstairs is empty now but I dismiss the thought, heading up the stairs.

"Ole McDonald had a farm! E-I-E-I-O!"

I turn when I hear the family tune echo from around the corner.

What in the actual hell?

Then I remember their nickname for El and I roll my eyes. Of course, they want her in and abuse her powers but they won't treat her with any respect. I hear a slam that stops the singing and once again I find myself overhearing Kali's words.

"She found me with only this."

"What's that mean?" I recognized the voice as the woman who stepped up to Axel, the woman in green.

"It means she can find people without moving. With nothing but an image."

"You telling me Shirley's a human radar detector or some shit?" Axel asked.

"Or some shit, yes."

"Come on, no way."

"We'll find out soon enough," Kali said. "I want to do one. Tomorrow."

My brows furrowed. What the hell where are they talking about? Whatever it was didn't sound good and they clearly wanted to use El for her powers. "Sister" my ass.

"You serious, Kal?" Axel asked, his voice rising.

"We're way too hot right now." The woman warned.

Another voice joined in, the crazy looking girl who mocked me.

"Paranoid." She said, in a sing-song voice.

"Realistic." The woman corrected. "You don't kill their men and expect them to look the other way."

My eyes widen.

So that's what they're doing. They're going around killing the bad men. Yeah, they're bad men, they're terrible people who've done terrible things but this is not the solution.

"If they find us, they will unleash hell." She finished.

"So we give in to fear?" Kali snapped back. "She's in pain. She needs this. We go out tomorrow."

I heard footsteps approach and I freeze, unable to move without being seen. Much to my relief Axel falls after Kali and the footsteps pause.

"Kali!"

"What?"

I take advantage of her diverted attention and I cross the hallway before she can see me.

"What about that pesky tag-along friend of hers, what about her?"

"I have no use for her. She's not to be trusted, I want her gone by morning."

The footsteps continued and quickly I slipped into the room I had been shown. It seems El was there too, she lay in the bed on one side, nuzzled up under a bright orange blanket. I slowly step inside and all the words I had prepared to say evaporated when I saw El. She looked so comfortable, and by now she was fast asleep. I was still very upset with her, but I knew if I woke her, and told her everything, things would only end on a bad note.

Maybe I could talk to her in the morning. Obviously, I have to wake up extra early anyway to leave before they could get rid of me. Sighing, I slipped off my shoes setting them the dim fire pit and trudged to the other side of the bed. I sat on the edge, sighing greatly as I put my head in my hands. I sit like this for a moment, collecting my thoughts before I discard a few of my layers. Slowly as not to wake El, I lay myself down on the opposite side, and nuzzle myself under the covers. I don't realize how tired I am until my head hits the pillow and right as my eyes flutter closed I am awakened.

"Y/n?"

My eyes open, and I see El looking at me from where she lays.

My stomach twists in knots knowing the moment can no longer be avoided. I'd have to tell her.

"Hi, El." I croak.

I can feel a lump forming in my throat, knowing what is about to unfold. Not wanting to dread it a moment longer, I take a deep breath and rip off the bandaid.

"El, are you staying here?"

She seems taken aback, her eyebrows furrow and she gives me a curious look. It quickly morphs into sadness and she nods

"Yes." She says. "How did you know?"

"I heard."

"Oh." Is all she says.

I take another deep breath, trying to keep my emotions intact.

"But are you sure you trust Kali? I mean, we hardly know her and I'm just not so sure about all this."

Her eyebrows twitch, and I can sense a flicker of anger.

"She's my sister." She says slowly, her voice begins to harden.

This causes my own brows to flicker, and I try to hide my offense.

"And I'm your best friend, I'm only trying to look out for you. I just think maybe you should think this through."

I think about the words that Kali said about me, not only to El but the words El didn't hear.

"Get rid of her."

"She cares about me. I'm her missing piece. She said so. And she is mine." El spits.

"What? El, please. Just hear me out-"

"It's Jane."

I don't attempt to stop myself from recoiling, I look at her in disbelief.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Jane. But seriously, hear me out, please! You didn't hear the things she was just planning. The things she just said to her friends out there, you don't understand-"

"No, Y/n." She shot, cutting me off. "You don't understand me."

I gape at her, unable to fathom the person she has morphed into in so little time. I laugh dryly, looking at her distastefully.

"I guess you're right, Jane. I don't understand you. Not anymore. I came here to tell you that I'm leaving by the way, on my own choice. Not because I overheard them say they're going to get rid of me, so I won't be here when you wake up so no worries there. I'll even say hi to Mike when I get home. Goodnight," I spit, rolling over on my side my back facing her.

My words don't ease the bubbling anger in my chest and before incantations stop myself I feel it boil over.

"Some friend you are," I huff under breath.

I don't hear another word from her, all I hear is several huffs and the rustling of the sheets. Once again my head is buzzing, but rather than dwell on the angering thoughts, this time I allow sleep to take me.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

I stir awake for what feels like the billionth time. And although I remember waking several times throughout the night, my stuff joints tell me I slept deeply. The details of last night come flooding back all too quickly and I sigh inwardly, my heart breaking all over again. Finally, I angle my wrist to glance at my watch, the time read six twenty-five. I might as well get moving. I remind myself of the words exchanged last night and that is enough to motivate me.

I slip out of bed, gracelessly but also noiseless and I'm quick to put on my shoes. Perks to sleeping in my new clothes, I didn't have to waste time getting dressed but I was awfully chilly. Thankfully my jacket managed to stay bone dry, and I am able to make sure all my actions are muted as to not draw attention. Thankfully, I hear limited signs of life throughout the warehouse apart from some occasional shuffling which I assume is from Mick, who always seems to be on the watch.

I plan my escape in my head when I realize, I needed money for the bus. My eyes flicker to El's sleeping form and down at her bag. With hushed steps, I reach the end of the bed and kneel down and carefully unzip it. My hand extends further into the bag, my eyes trained on El in case she wakes and I remind myself she planned on staying anyway. She'd have no use for bus money and sure enough, my fingers catch the dog eared corner of the paper.

My brows crease when I realize it's a lot thicker than I expected. I dig deeper, my other hand falling to prop open the stiff bag as I peer inside curiously and my fingers retract with something completely unexpected in my grip. Peculiarly enough, I find a manilla folder. I turn it over, and in an instant, I feel my mouth run dry when I see the three words etched out across the front in messing handwriting.

THE MISSING EXPERIMENT

It can't be. She wouldn't.

Numbly, I open the folder. Dozens of papers and news clippings spill out one by one and I look on in shock. Several species are annotated in pen, several notes have been taken by several different people and the feeling it leaves me with sickens me.

All my life I wondered where I came from, all my life I've been a giant question mark. So many loose threads, and unanswered questions and yet all these people had this information. By the looks of it, it's been passed down. And even El had it. My eyes find her once more but this time I look at her in disgust.

How could she keep this from me? This whole time, I'd been there to help her, and she said she was here to help me. Then why hide this?

My eyes fall back to the remaining sheets around me and I'm pulled in before I can stop. The first thing I note is an older looking file, it looks to be typed up and looks by far the oldest. It read,

Subject 009; UNTESTED

Date of Birth: TBD Sex: TBD Mother: Y/M/F/N Father: Unknown Attribute(s): increasing signs of abnormalities during pregnancy, affecting both mother and child such as drastic changes in temperature, signs of hypertension and hyperactivity. ADDITIONALLY, mother has recently begun showing signs of involuntary and unnatural physical resistance one can only describe as seismic bursts that we hypothesize is the fetus' defense mechanism.

My attention is ripped away when I hear scuffling from downstairs, and quickly I gather my thoughts. I force myself to shove this aside for a moment, and quickly I collect every stray piece of paper that had fallen within moments and return them to the folder. I thank anything and everything I can that my jacket has large inside pockets. Truthfully, the stitching ripped a few years back and expanded the length of the pocket, sure the folder would get a little bent but it would certainly do given I didn't have a bag.

I dig through El's bag once more and find the remaining money from last night's trip and I jump to my feet racing for the doorway. Out of habit, I turn to look at El one last time not knowing if I'll ever see her again. But once again, the anger quickly replaces my somber feelings and makes it easier to leave. Keeping an eye out on the other room, I slip over to the stairs.

Mick was in the other room across the hall taking watch just as I had suspected, so there was no one waiting downstairs when I flew down the steps. I race for the door and with one last glance, I'm out the door in record time.

Like I'd never been there. They surely wouldn't know the difference.

+++

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[shadows-echoes]

Look me in my Eyes (Tell me Everything's not Fine)

Pairing: Aaron Warner x reader

Prompt: the hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged [...]. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms. (I’ve modified the prompt a tiny bit, but that’s the gist of it)

Word Count: 5.5k (self-control, who?)

Warnings: nothing outside of stuff mentioned in the prompt itself, and a swear word or two.

A/N: yeahh... You can blame @pandemoniumambassador for this fic. She’s a hype master and was, for some reason, willing to beta this?? So like,,, please go love her??? She’s awesome and puts up with a lot from me tbh.

-

The side of your fist hits the smooth white front of the wooden door so harshly that the skin over your bones threatens to bruise. Not that you notice. Or care.

You keep knocking— if you can call it that, that is. It’s more like pounding. Hammering. You’re hammering your fist against the door in the hope that it will open— in a desperate, sloppy, chaotic last-ditch hope that it will open right now.

“Leila!” You shout at the nearly invisible seam between the door and doorframe as if that would somehow help your voice carry— as if that would get you inside faster. “Leila, please! It’s me, Y/N.”

The words are loud. Too loud. Far, far too loud in your otherwise silent surroundings. They echo around your skull, ringing, bouncing around with an alarming intensity that’s dimming, dimming, dimming as your head fills up with fog.

The amped-up sedative in your bloodstream is affecting you more rapidly than you had initially thought— than you had wanted to believe.

Once you had slipped away from your make-shift guards and back into the real world, you ran. You ran at a flat-out sprint for as long as you could maintain, lungs bursting at the seams, heart thundering in your ears, deafening, and a taste of copper in the back of your mouth. You ran as fast as you possibly could with tar in your veins, lead in your limbs, and blood seeping from your skin and into your clothes. You ran, and this place, these few disgustingly, unnervingly pristine blocks that lay untouched by the havoc which now wrecked the world, was the first landmark you recognized.

You had intended on running right past these houses and into the more desolated wooded areas not far from here until you found a safe spot to hide away in until the drug wore off, but your legs had different ideas. Your feet led you here, to a house you had only been in a handful of times a lifetime ago, to a house you remember a kind woman once living in.

You don’t know if she will remember you.

Or if she still lives here.

Or, granted she is still here, if she’ll even take you in-

No.

No, she’s home. She still lives here. She has to.

The street is coated in darkness over your shoulder, illuminated only by the few-and-far-between stars peeking through the dark, cloudy sky. The porch you’re on is dark, too, but the faint light seeping through the cracks between the window curtains acts as a beacon—a spotlight broadcasting your location to the entire world, to anyone left in it who’s interested enough to look.

You’re not so foolish as to believe you lost them, they’re too good for that and you’re far too disoriented, but you would like to think you bought yourself a few minutes of time at the very least.

It’s hard to tell though.

The trees lining the front yards across the street are entirely blurry now, blending into their suburban background of white picket fences far too well for your liking.

The stinging sensation in your right forearm and left leg have practically numbed altogether, and the strain in your muscles and lungs may as well be gone too. It is all still there, you know that, but the feeling of it is becoming inaccessible to you.

You can’t smell anything either, not even the blood staining your clothes.

And your hearing…

You don’t know how much longer you have until you pass out. What little of a head-start you might have had is gone now though, you do know that much for sure.

“Please!” you try again, and it sounds slurred. “I didn’t have anywhere else to-”

The door is wrenched open so swiftly that in one second you’re staring at the increasingly blurry grains of wood, and in the next you’re staring at someone’s chin.

A part of you wants to ask Leila when and how she had grown half of a foot taller than you remembered her being, but by the time your brain catches up and your eyes see the face looking back at you, you’re already stumbling backwards.

No.

No,

No,

No,

No.

No.

Not him.

Shock courses through your veins and panic rifles through your brain, setting off every alarm bell still functioning. Confusion follows in its wake, and it all adds to the ugly mix of out-of-breath panting and the drugged tissues of your body which have turned to concrete. Immobile.

The subtle details of his expression are blurred and cast in a slight shadow due to the warm yellow light streaming past him from inside the house. From what you can tell though, Warner does not look happy. Not that you blame him though, considering that the last time you saw each other was when you shot him and then jumped out of a window after Juliette and Adam.

It had been quite the string of coincidences, really, that day.

Your hate for the Reestablishment and the fact that you never wanted to be a soldier in the first place led to two different outcomes. The first was a thick and colorful record detailing your insubordination and other “offenses” against your superiors which had been amassing since the very start of your training. 

The second was your plan to desert.

Unfortunately, planning to successfully run away from a military base was less easy than you had hoped. It took time to collect some provisions, find a way off base, find someplace to go after you left...

You did it though, meticulously put together a plan to desert which was as foolproof as it was ever going to get. Except, days before it was to all take place, your plan fell apart due to an event which would have led to increased security, harsher superiors, stricter orders, and even less freedom than you were already granted.

Though your carefully crafted hopes for your future were viciously ripped from you mere days before they could take place, a different opportunity had been thrown directly into your hands and you had been physically unable to let it slide through your fingers like your original plan.

That day you happened to be inside the main building when a code seven alarm went off. You heard shouting from one of the rooms, went to investigate, and lo and behold you found an open window with “escape” written all over it, perfect for you to climb through and into freedom. 

The only trouble was that between you and it stood three other people.

Juliette.

Adam.

And Warner.

You read the scene you walked in on quickly enough—it wasn't difficult considering the weapon Warner had been aiming at the other two, the two with interlocked hands and an open window at their backs.

The rest was history—a blur of actions and reactions you hardly had time to think through or decipher.

You stopped desperately seeking a way out of the life of a soldier you had been forced into—stopped looking for a chance to leave and an exit through which to run; you found one, and you were leaving.

A hand that wasn't your own had aimed your gun at the back of Warner’s head while a voice not dissimilar to yours told an incredulous Adam to grab Warner’s weapon. Keeping Warner in your sight, you then backed towards the window with Juliette and Adam at behind you.

Warner had not been particularly pleased. In fact, he mentioned some rather violent consequences and, when you failed back down, he lunged for your gun.

You pulled the trigger.

The few people currently looking for you might be bad, but this… Him… Warner… This might be worse. This is out of the hands of pissed off, blood-hungry citizens, and into the hands of the ruthless Chief Commander and Regent of Sector Forty-Five.

The one you shot as you looked him in the eyes.

Run.

Run, your mind screams at you.

Run as fast as you can while you can and don’t look back until you’re dead, otherwise you will be.

But you can’t run.

The floor shackles itself your feet, locking you in place even as the porch starts swaying before your eyes.

You think you manage to take a single stumbling step backwards. You assume you must have, at least, for the cold, smooth railing of the porch materializes beneath your hand and keeps you upright— keeps you standing as a tide of vertigo brushes over you.

Another few steps backwards and you would be down the stairs and on the front lawn. That’s the direction you want to go. Out. Away. Far away from the tall, imposing, deadly figure slowly stepping out of the doorway to approach you.

But your legs refuse to move even more insistently than they had a few moments ago, cooperating even less than they had. Traitors. They would get you killed.

Warner says your name.

He says something else too, something that sounds like a question. You can’t make it out—the sounds you hear don’t sound like words, but a chain of syllables strung together in an odd tone that’s even less decipherable than the sounds themselves.

Technically, you knew Warner could be here.

You knew, somewhere deep, deep down in the recesses of your mind that there was the tiniest, smallest, fraction of a possibility…

But surely, surely, you thought, your luck could not possibly be that bad.

You were wrong.

Darkness encroaches your vision, blurring and blocking out your surroundings one by one in a dull, unnervingly subtle wave.

The eyes looking back at you are the last things to fade out of focus.

They’re green eyes. So, so green.

Not the green of hatred or even the green of authority with that familiar fire always, always burning just below the surface.

But the green of a young boy you once knew in a lifetime before the world ended.

Green bleeds into black.

-

The first thing you notice when you wake is the pounding in your head— an amalgamation of the dull pain residing there and your own thudding heartbeat mixing together.

The next thing you notice is that you’re still alive, and –you open your eyes— unrestrained.

The fog which consumed your mind is gone now. You can acutely feel its absence in the clarity of your thoughts— in the clarity of your confusion, but… But tendrils of it still remain, a sheer film of murkiness lingering ever so slightly over your mind.

“Oh, good. You’re finally awake.”

Your head snaps towards the voice.

And your eyes…

Your eyes find Warner.

Warner.

Right.

Shit.

He sits at a small table in the corner of the room and holds your heavy, undoubtedly confused and startled gaze with ease. His left arm is in a sling. In his right hand he holds a data-pad which he sets down on the table without looking away from you. The device now sits a few inches away from the sleek black gun also on the table. Both remain within easy reach for him.

You swallow.

Your head spins as you sit up and as you try to understand why you’re not dead yet, why Warner hadn’t killed you immediately and on sight. Why, instead of bringing you back to the compound and throwing you in a cell, he brought you into what you think is the spare bedroom in Leila’s house and waited for you to wake up.

You know it must boil down to information, it always does, but still… It’s odd.

It’s a shame you’re unwilling to divulge anything serious though, anything at all that he might be interested in. A real shame, considering said information is probably all that’s kept you alive as of late.

Warner observes you in silence and with shrewd eyes, like he’s reading a book with a lot of unfamiliar jargon but reading through it all the same. The look puts you on edge, as it is likely supposed to do.

“I’m not going to tell you anything, you know.” It’s a hedged warning, a cautious one, but a warning all the same.

“But you haven’t even heard my questions yet,” Warner replies in a tone all too pleasant.

You shift atop the covers of the bed, more than thoroughly uncomfortable, and pain threads up your arm as you do.

Oddly enough, the three people who had grabbed you yesterday only hurt you enough subdue you. One of them had recognized you as a solider and they planned to interrogate you for information and—wow.

Wow. You really just traded one interrogation for another, didn’t you?

You really are that unlucky. Damn.

Regardless, after telling them that you had deserted they spent the next few hours arguing about what to do with you. One option they discussed involved taking you to the “others” –whoever they were— and the other few options they contemplated all ended rather bloodily for you.

Needless to say, you did not sit idly by while they so candidly discussed your apparently ever-shortening future. As luck –or your lack of it– would have it, however, you ran into one of them after slipping your restraints and she shot you up with a syringe half full of a goddamn sedative before you managed to get away from her. You want to blame it on said sedative for your clumsiness, but in your hurry to escape you jumped a fence rather poorly, managing to snag both your forearm and your calf on two different pieces of exposed, jagged metal.

Both injuries had bled a fair amount at the time. Now, they’re no longer bleeding. Now, white gauze spotted with dried blood peeks out at you through the blood-stained tears in your clothes.

You stare at the bandage on your forearm, blinking at it slowly as though it would answer your questions if you only looked long enough.

Why?

Why would he do that?

Why on Earth would he put in the two minutes of effort to help you –in any way, let alone medically– if he planned on killing you at some point anyway? Why-

You don’t understand this— what kind of game he’s playing.

And… And he’s not giving you any clues, even unintentionally.

You don’t have any superpowers, not like the ones you have heard rumours of, ones whispered about in hushed tones filled with awe or brushed off with a scowl, and you certainly don’t have any abilities like Juliette’s.

As it turns out, however, you do have exceptionally good hearing.

So that’s what you do now, in need of any kind of additional information available, you listen. You quiet the world inside your head, still the questions on your tongue, move past the noise of your own body, of Warner’s, of the idle sounds of shifting fabric and measured exhalations of breath, and you listen.

The sounds which greet you do little and less to placate your worries.

The house itself is alive.

Alive and humming with the sound of electricity buzzing in the rubber-wrapped wires behind the walls and the water flowing in the pipes beneath the floor under your feet, with the low thrum of the refrigerator in the kitchen downstairs and the roaring of the furnace in the basement tick, tick, ticking away the seconds until it turns off again.

The building is alive with the signs of life and inhabitation.

It’s also empty.

Not abandoned, empty.

Unoccupied.

Save for you and Warner.

“Where’s Leila?”

Out of all the questions dancing around your brain, you’re unsure why that one makes it past your lips.

You also have no clue what you had been thinking last night –for you assume it was last night given the early morning light streaming through the window a few feet from Warner— aside from the fact that you hadn’t been thinking. Sure, why not show up on a woman's doorstep, begging for help, despite the fact you hadn’t seen her in years and— oh, yeah, you shot her son less than a week ago.

Yeah. That was bound to go well.

Fuck.

“Not here,” Warner answers crisply. “Who were you running from last night?”

The question hangs in the air, suspended by silence.

There’s a high likelihood Warner already knows about the group who grabbed you for you assume he must get at least some reports about civil unrest, but on the off-chance he doesn’t…

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

Despite how they so plainly discussed different ways to pry information out of you and other things you would rather not think about, you’re hesitant to blow the whistle on them— not when they are one of two groups willing to speak out, to do something about the Reestablishment. Hell, you might have helped them had they not been so… rough.

Well, rough and hateful.

Apparently, they had heard rumours about the resistance— about Omega Point, about how it housed people with abilities which might help to take down the Reestablishment. They hadn’t been fans of that, even using some artfully constructed and colorful language to describe the “freaks” there too.

“Where are Juliette and Kent?”

With any luck? Far away from here.

At the time, you had thought that you were rather smart, that the one bonus of your surprise escape –as opposed to the one you had planned– was that Warner would be focussed on trying to find three missing people as opposed to just one. Both Adam and you needed to take care of some personal business –though neither of you asked or wanted to know what the other’s was– and you both thought your odds were better if you split up into two groups. Besides, they didn’t trust you and you didn’t particularly trust them– not with your life, anyway.

Though the three of you knew that Juliette would probably be Warner’s top priority, you were not overly worried about either her or, by extension, Adam. No matter how terrified she seemed or how… oddly kind the few words she had spoken to you were, she could, after all, kill someone with a single touch.

After going your separate ways a few days ago and a few quick pitstops on your end, you had been en route to… Well, you’re not entirely sure where. You’ve heard rumours– a lot of rumours about where Omega Point is supposedly located and you’ve narrowed it down to a general area. That’s where you had been going yesterday before you got jumped.

You’re not sure where Juliette and Adam had intended on going –it’s best that way– but you can only assume they had made it there safely if Warner still hasn’t found them.

“Is whatever happened to you happening to her?”

His voice is harsher now. Stern. It’s less like the pleasant tone he began this conversation with and more like the one he uses to command the entirety of Sector Forty-Five.

His patience must have run out.

“Why do you care?” you counter, snapping out the reply before you can stop yourself. Then… Then you see it. You see his fingers curling together, tightening, and a muscle in his jaw clenching. You know the response is not due to anger either, at least not entirely. So, for some reason you don’t want to think about, you end up relenting after a quiet sigh. “Not that I’m aware of.”

The answer seems to appease him, but only for a moment. Without missing a beat or even chewing over the only answer you’ve given him, he asks the one question you least expect.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

You gape. “What?”

Asking if you heard someone correctly has not really been an issue for you, not when you have the ability to hear the blood being pumped through a person’s veins and the grinding of their teeth, but… but that…

You had been mentally psyching yourself up for an interrogation– for roughly asked questions about the resistance and their numbers, about the extent of the dissent among his soldiers and troops, more about Adam and Juliette– especially about Juliette. Not-

“I was point-blank when you shot me in the shoulder,” he continues, seemingly oblivious to the now thundering rate of your heart and the rising emotions in your throat. “It would have been a clean shot, an easy kill. Yet you decided not to kill me. Why?”

“I missed.” The blatant lie thoughtlessly, stupidly, carelessly slips past your lips in a small voice that isn’t your own.

And Warner… Warner only smiles.

He smiles.

He smiles like your two meager words are best things he’s heard all month, like he’s suddenly enjoying this. Like talking about how easily you could have killed him but didn’t is amusing to him.

To make matters worse, it’s not a cruel smile of barbed wire and rusted nails. In fact, it’s almost… nice. It actually looks good on him. More than good, unfortunately. But it is wicked, a pleased display of a mind full of cutting knowledge locked behind an array of sharp white teeth and soft lips.

“The worst of my soldiers would have been incapable of missing a shot like that,” he says, “and I have seen you shoot, love. You have some of the best marks of all the soldiers within Sector Forty-Five. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you missed?”

The surety with which he speaks turns your blood into ice, makes it congeal and crystalize in your veins. It blooms enough apprehension and fear inside your chest that you can’t even correct him over the sobriquet he uses– though you’re sure your expression shows enough of your displeasure to make your feelings on it obvious.

You’ve seen more emotion in Warner in the last ten seconds than you have in the last ten years and you don’t know how to handle that- how to deal with the odd assortment of unorganized facts and small, peculiar details you’ve been handed.

The emotion contouring his features makes him look ten years younger too. It reminds you that Warner is, in fact, your age. 

You had become so acclimatized to his blank expression cross-referenced with the occasional scowl and sharp commands that you became convinced the kind boy you once knew was long dead— that Supreme Commander Anderson had slowly, torturously killed him over the years and replaced him with Warner.

Then, a few weeks ago, you saw a brief, momentary, flickering crack in his façade, there and gone again in a moment. It made you remember the little boy with pale green eyes who took you out of the very house you now sit in, away from the wrath of his father which your short temper would have surely evoked. You had disliked Warner then, in that moment and with your young, righteous heart from keeping you from yelling in all your rage at his obnoxious, horrible, insulting father.

It was only later that you had come to realize the boy’s actions for the unnecessary kindness that it was. Though you never figured out how he had known you were seconds away from talking back rather sharply to his father, you were glad he had. He might have just saved your life.

That hadn’t been the only time you had met that summer, for you had seen each other a handful of times, but it had been the first– and the notable.

Warner is calm. You know that with certainty because you can hear his heartbeat: strong, steady, regular. He’s not the slightest bit ruffled or stressed. You suppose having a gun at one’s side helps with that.

In lieu of an answer you can’t give and don’t know how to provide, you keep listening.

To him.

To the house.

To the yard beyond the barely open window.

To wind filtering through the leaves of nearby trees, carrying whispers of halved-sentences.

Of voices.

It’s not Warner’s voice, though Warner is saying something to you. You can hear him in the back of your head speaking clear, understandable words, but you’re not listening to him anymore.

No, you’re listening to the other voices, ones you recognize.

Angling your ear towards the window, you strain your hearing to its full extent, cursing whatever remnants of sedative still lingering in you for making this more difficult than it usually is.

A quick debate in sharp tones, that’s all you’re able to pick up.

Then a click.

A distinct click that is all too familiar, one that doesn’t need any explanation.

You know the sound that will soon follow it too.

“Get down.”

“Excuse me?”

You don’t repeat the softly spoken words, not that there’s time to reiterate anyway. A sleeve is already being dragged against the coarse shingles below it, flesh is readjusting– tightening over a piece of hard, military-grade plastic.

You’re up and across the room before you even realize you’re moving– before you know what you’re doing– before you recognize your hands pushing at Warner’s shoulders.

By the time the two of you hit the ground, he’s somehow already switched positions and has you pinned you to the floor, no doubt assuming you’re trying to attack him.

But you’re not trying to attack him. You’re not even trying to fight him.

A half second later, you hear the sound you had been expecting. It’s rather difficult not to though, the bullet fractures the window panes in an explosion of glass before embedding itself in the wall above your heads with a soft thump.

You can feel Warner freeze at the sound, the sudden rigidity of his muscles.

You press yourself into the floor as two more bullets are fired, wishing for all the world that you could slip between the cracks of wood and rematerialize on the floor below.

Warner shifts as well. Closer.

Between the screaming of your heart and the ringing in your ears, a fleeting thought crosses your mind that you’re being covered. That Warner is covering you. Then the thought is gone– as it should be. He’s just trying to get closer to the ground.

He turns his head slightly to the side, towards you, and you wait, half frozen as you hold the calculating eyes which bore into you.

This time, when he asks who is shooting, you have no qualms about telling him.

This time, you answer without hesitating.

Because this time it feels different.

It is different.

“Civilians,” you state. “Third-party; hate the resistance but hate the Reestablishment even more.”

“How did you know they were here? How do I know you’re not with them?”

The words have a funny pitch and sound as though you’re listening to them through a pool of water. You’ve come to expect that part, the temporary and partial loss of hearing after listening to something particularly loud, but it’s still disconcerting to experience—to live a life listening to the uproarious, never-ending, screaming cacophony of the world and then have it just… vanish.

Needless to say, you became quite good at reading lips within the first few weeks of living on the military base of Sector Forty-Five.

You scoff at the words you see, and half hear, his lips saying. Or maybe you laugh, you’re not too sure which. “Narcissistic much? They were after me, I think you just became a big bonus though.”

Friend or foe? Enemy or ally?

Truth or lie? Deception or misperception?

The questions storming through his eyes and over his hardening features are obvious.

Warner pushes himself higher off of the ground, off of you, and you don’t need the full extent of your hearing to know what a bad idea it is.

Your hand, of its own accord, latches onto his elbow as you hiss at him to wait.

But it’s too late.

The warning is unnecessary.

The gunshot which follows his slight movement is sufficient warning.

Warner ducks down again.

Idiot.

What was he thinking?

God, what were you thinking? Trying to warn him? Pushing him out of the way? Coming back to this house in the first place?

Your own thoughts and feelings are so disorganized that it’s hopeless to sort through them, but when Warner looks at you there is such a mix of surprise and confusion– suspicion and intrigue in his eyes that whatever traction you might have had over your own feelings is immediately lost.

“They’re shooting at both of us,” you state.

The reminder, whether for him or for you or for both, works.

A long moment passes– a moment in which the ringing still in your ears quiets enough for you to hear the hearts, yours and his, crackling like thunderstorms and the intentionally slow breaths being forced into and out of two sets of lungs to try and counteract the rapid beating.

Warner nods, a fractional dip of his chin.

He looks over his shoulder, his good one, at the now glassless window, then at the door half-way across the room, his eyes calculating angles and distances as they trace a path to escape.

You listen, extending your hearing as far as it will currently go, examining the spaces around you and the roof next door for any tell-tale signs of dangerous activity to be careful of.

When Warner’s gaze again meets your own, it is you who nods this time.

The two of you crawl as close to the door as you can without being seen, and another shot rings out as you dash across the remaining distance and into the hallway.

Warner had snagged the gun from the table before leaving the room and now holds it extended in front of him, keeping a watchful eye on both you and the rest of the house as you silently make your way downstairs.

You could tell him that the house is still empty, that this isn’t some kind of ambush, but you don’t. You could also tell him that the shooter and his friend scampered off of the roof they had been perching on after failing to shoot either of you, that they’re now out of your hearing range entirely, gone, but you don’t. It would only lead to too many questions and fewer chances of your own escape– something which you still have every intention of doing.

So when his wary and watchful attention habitually leaves you to scan the next room, it’s easier than you expect to trip him up and pry the gun from his hand.

You aim it at his chest.

“Well, this seems oddly reminiscent, doesn’t it, love?”

Outwardly, Warner is as calm as ever, his face a pleasant and blank mask. The mask is too tight, though, its edges plainly visible and showing the frustration underneath. You know he’s ready to risk a bullet and fight if need be, but he also does not look particularly surprised. He just looks… wry and nearly disappointed.

“I won’t go back to being a soldier,” you say, “and certainly not for the Reestablishment.”

You’re not sure if the words are a warning or an explanation, but either way he does not heed them.

Warner steps towards you.

A bullet pierces the floor in front of him in a miniature explosion of splinters. You wince at the sound and from the pain it causes, but it’s worth it. Warner stops advancing.

His expression is grim, eyes narrowing. “You won’t kill me.”

It’s a hard statement, nothing remotely close to a question, and you wonder how such conviction came to be. 

There were a handful of times you thought you would be able to kill Warner if given the chance, that you could stomach doing it given all of the horror he’s allowed, but then things changed. The boy you once knew made a reappearance, surfaced for a few heartbeats too long, and changed everything.

Shooting to impair him is one thing, but...

You swallow– swallow the self-doubt, the curiosity, the regret, the pain, the nostalgia, the rage, the despair– and hope that your actions today don’t royally screw up future events, that this day won’t haunt you for the rest of your life no matter how short that ends up being.

“You’re right,” you admit, “and please don’t make me regret that, Aaron.”

Warner stiffens at the name, at his name. He freezes as if he hadn’t heard it in years, as if you had summoned up an ancient ghost and just carved out his heart as a sacrifice.

He makes no move to stop you as you slowly back out of the room, never taking your eyes off him for fear of snapping him out of whatever daze of memories he’s found himself in.

You walk backwards out of the house.

Out of the yard.

Then you turn, running, sprinting as fast as feet will carry you all the way to Omega Point.

[danyka-fendyr]

Remind Me: Part 4

Yes, that’s right everyone. I actually put some effort into this one. Is it still ridiculously early in the morning? Well...yes. But you know what, art comes at the cost of sleep. I’m hoping to continue this pattern of releasing chapters I have uhh....not thrown together last minute. As always, you should all know that this fic is based off of @dreamwritesimagines fic Once a Year, and I HIGHLY recommend reading it.

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

Wordcount: 2623

You woke up slowly, comfortable where you were. Your brain was momentarily confused by the sensation of someone tangled up with you, but your body was very familiar with it. Billy had his arms wrapped around you so tight you couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to, his face buried in the back of your neck, sleepily nuzzling into you when you stirred. You smiled to yourself a little. This was the nicest deja vu you had experienced so far.

As much as you loved this moment though, you really had to pee.

“Bill,” You said softly, squirming.

He hummed, his breath fluttering the hair on the back of your neck and sending a trail of goosebumps down your spine. Was it hot in here? Yeah, it was super hot in here.

”Billy!” Take two involved you elbowing him in the ribs a little.

He rolled over, groaning. “What, Skittles?”

He was only half-awake, and there was something slightly familiar to you about this too. It was starting to get irritating, this feeling that you knew him but didn’t really.

His eyes opened briefly, but they didn’t focus, and that was when you knew he was still asleep. You smiled slightly, giggling to yourself. He was talking in his sleep. Well, at least you had gotten him to roll over and move off of you.

“The prettiest girl you know has to make a brief trip to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

He grunted. “So pretty.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated up as you crawled out from under the covers and padded into your freezing bathroom. You took care of your business, then brushed your teeth because to be frank, the inside of your mouth tasted nasty. You blamed it on the garlic involved in dinner last night. 

You fumbled your toothbrush, dropping it on the white and black flecked quartz counters of your master bathroom, and sighed as you picked it up. You winced when you saw yourself in the mirror. You weren’t exactly looking your best, but you supposed that didn’t really matter at this time in the morning.

You were still exhausted, which probably had something to do with your recent release from the hospital, so you decided to see if you could get more sleep. By the time you walked back out into your bedroom, you were mostly asleep again. Billy was sprawled out on the bed now, but you were too tired to care, crawling on top of him and cuddling into him, your face pressed into his neck as you went back to sleep.

“It’s a really good thing you’re rich,” was the first thing you heard when you woke up again.

“What?” You rolled over, your heavy black comforter slipping down your shoulders.

Billy was sitting at the end of your bed, fiddling with a switchblade. You should have found it terrifying, but it seemed pretty commonplace. Maybe it was just the casual way he did it, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it was because you had found one of your own in your purse. You were starting to wonder if you were a very good person before this.

He smiled, putting the knife away. “You’re missing work. But you don’t really have to go into work, because you’re loaded. Not to mention the fact that I took the liberty of calling in sick for you for the next week. Your assistant should be able to stay on top of everything.”

“My assistant? Please tell me I don’t work for some bigshot corporation with a desk almost as boring as this house.” You groaned, sitting up.

“You do not work for some bigshot corporation, although you do have a fairly boring desk. You own an art gallery.”

“Wait, really?” You smiled, incredulous. “That’s such a cool job!”

He chuckled. “Yeah. You have a degree and everything. The whole 9 yards.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard since I fell down several flights of stairs.”

He frowned, sitting back on his palms.

“I’m going to figure out who did this to you, Skittles. I promise.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t an accident? I mean...how do we know? Everyone said-”

He stopped you. “Skittles, I’ve seen a lot of guys get hurt. I know when someone falls and when someone has been pushed. You were pushed. Very hard.”

“You’re positive?”

“I am. I would never lie to you Skittles.” He leaned forward, putting a hand on your knee.

“I really shouldn’t believe you as much as I do,” You breathed.

“If you knew our history, it would make sense. Right now though I guess I should just be glad that you’re not going to fall for any lies some other jerk tells you.”

You sat up all the way, swinging your legs off the bed. “You seem very possessive. I’m not sure that’s healthy.”

“Nothing about us is healthy, Skittles. We’re like junk food. We’re not particularly good for each other, but we just can’t get enough.”

“I do love a good cheeseburger.”

“So cheeseburgers for breakfast?”

You stood up, laughing. “Ew, no! I can’t believe I’m friends with you. How could you even suggest that?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Skittles.”

“Well then I guess it’s like you said. It’s a good thing I’m rich.”

“Sometimes.” Billy picked his shirt up from the floor where he had tossed it last night, putting it back on.

“So, what’s the plan for the day?” You stretched, reaching for the ceiling.

“I was thinking we could grab some breakfast, then swing by my place and pick up some of my stuff since you have made it very non-negotiable that we are now roomies. Which was very rude of you, by the way. You didn’t even let me have a say.”

“Just pretend you’re in special forces again. Only this time I’m your drill sergeant or whatever.” You shrugged.

“Damn, I wish you were my drill sergeant. Would have followed every order, no complaints.”

“Isn’t that what you did anyway?” You raised an eyebrow, half a smile on your face.

Billy bit his lip, eyes drifting off in a way that told you for half a second, he wasn’t here. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I did anyway. Like a good little soldier.”

You felt something in your chest shift seeing him this way, and you had the sudden urge to hug him, and then go rip his commanding officer’s heart out. Only one of those was an option at the moment though, so you took it. You draped your body over him, the hug lazy, still sleepy.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s okay, Skittles. You shouldn’t be worrying your pretty little head about any of that stuff, okay?”

You just nodded, unable to lie to him and tell him you wouldn’t worry. You had a feeling he knew and that you’d had this argument a few times before. You always had been stubborn. Even you knew that.

“So, breakfast. What do you want?”

“I already told you Skittles. Cheeseburgers.” He grinned, arrogant.

“Second choice.”

“Steak.”

You rolled your eyes. “Pick a breakfast food, Russo.”

He squinted at you, thinking. “French toast.”

“Thank you. That is an acceptable option.”

“With mayonnaise on it.”

You pulled away from him, reeling back onto the bed.“Oh my gosh I think I just puked in my mouth a little. No, scratch that, it was a lot. That is...by far the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of in my life. Maggots would be less gross than that. Please tell me you’ve never actually put that in your mouth.”

He was laughing like a mad man, rolling around on your bed while you stood over him, watching him screw up the sheets and practically chuck the comforter on the floor.

“No, Skittles. I have never eaten that, and I don’t intend to. It’s good to know I can still get a rise out of you though.”

“Jerk.”

“You love it.”

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that comment with an answer.

Billy wouldn’t let you drive to his apartment, much to your chagrin. Apparently, he hadn’t liked the look in your eye when you two had driven past a construction site earlier. Said it reminded him of a bad memory involving a ramp. You decided to let him have his way since he made breakfast. You were kind of a sucker for anyone who fed you. It was comforting to see that at least some things hadn’t changed.

Billy parallel parked outside of his apartment, hopping out while you sat and stared for a moment.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“You live here?”

“Yes.” He set his hands on his hips, impatient.

“I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not.”

“Don’t lie to my face like that Billy.” You climbed out of the car, stepping directly into a puddle of an unknown substance that you prayed would remain unknown.

You picked your way through the back alley over to the entrance of Billy’s apartment complex, trying not to further damage your shoes. You were grateful you had picked the boots and not one of the many pairs of heels available. Billy lead you inside, opening the door to his apartment and gesturing for you to go first.

His apartment was...remarkably bare. You didn’t realize it was possible for a human to live somewhere and leave so little evidence. There were a couple packs of Ramen in the open cabinets, some dirty sheets crumpled up on the futon pushed against the wall, and in the far corner, a duffle bag with laundry in varying states of cleanliness peaking out haphazardly.

“So this is where you stay?” You turned slowly, staring at the chilly apartment.

“Sometimes. Usually I pay the heating bill when I stay here though. Doesn’t matter what time of year, it’s always freezing in this corner of the building. No idea why. Some of the people here seem to think it’s haunted.”

Billy swung the duffle bag over his shoulder, not even bothering to look at the rest of the room. He was headed for the door before you could even ask any more questions. How could he live like this?

“I thought you owned a company.”

“I do.” He popped the trunk, throwing the duffle in.

“So then why…?”

You both got into the car, Billy starting up the engine. The low purr of it was nice, relaxing.

“Have you ever heard those stories of the rich people who get depressed, and then everyone wonders why they were so sad when they had everything?”

You nodded. Those kinds of stories were hard to avoid. They were usually plastered all over the tabloids since rich was practically synonymous with famous. Walk down a grocery aisle and you were sure to see at least one death glaring you in the face, right next to how to lose 10 pounds in a week. The only thing more depressing was the news.

“Well, psychology says that they feel like that because they break habit. Everything that was routine and familiar to them is stripped away, all in one blow. They have everything, but they have nothing of what they used to have or who they used to be. It screws with your head, messes you up. So, I come here when I want to remember where I came from. Lately, that’s been a lot, so I just kind of moved in full-time.”

“You were worse than me, weren’t you?”

He didn’t have to ask what you meant.

“Yeah. I got picked up by CPS a little later, so I was on my own for a few years. I made it though. I’m a survivor. A fighter. Just like you, Skittles.” He smiled at you.

“Yeah. Just like me.” You frowned slightly, thinking about what you had recently survived. “Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“Who would want to hurt me? Did I make a lot of enemies? I mean, be honest. Was I a total witch?”

Billy laughed a little bit at that. “No. You were pretty popular in high school, actually. But now you’re...I guess disillusioned would be the best way to put it. You hate society life. Or at least, you did before the accident.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that hasn’t changed either. Eating snails with a bunch of snobs who pretend they’re better than you doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

“Oh, c’mon Skittles. You’re being too harsh. They eat fish eggs, not snails.”

“Ew!” You covered your ears, squirming while he laughed at you.

You waited a moment before deciding it was worth pressing. It was your life after all.

“Really though Billy. Who would hate me so much they would try to kill me?”

“Well, that’s the troubling part Skittles. I don’t exactly know.”

There was something about the way he said it though that, of all the things that had happened so far, made you not trust him. For the first time, he wouldn’t look at you, eyes shifting back and forth over the road nervously, like he was watching for something, some imagined threat powerful enough to hurt you in broad daylight in the middle of New York. For the first time since you had met Billy, you felt unsafe.

“You’re lying.”

He glanced at you now, just for a second out of the corner of his eye, then sighed. “Skittles, it’s complicated.”

“Yeah? Well so am I. And this is my life, so complicated only makes sense. Tell me,” You demanded, turning your body fully to face him in the car seat.

“You...came to me, one night. You were upset, crying. At first, I just thought you got into a fight with your fiance, Carter. You guys weren’t really very compatible if you ask me. I mean, I guess he was nice, but not for you. I knew you didn’t really love him, and I’d been pressuring you to tell him as much, or at least admit it to yourself. I thought maybe you’d done both and he’d taken it poorly or something like that.”

You listened, watching the way he glanced between you and the road, as though trying to gauge how you would react to his next words.

“Then you told me you wanted to hurt somebody.”

You pulled back, like some invisible string was attached to one of the notches in your spine, tethering you to the back of the car seat, and someone had just tugged. You stared at him, confused and scared but not...not horrified. There was something vaguely familiar to it, like there was to a lot of things Billy said to you, and that was the part that really scared you. Not the threat of violence, but the familiarity of it.

Billy continued. “I didn’t ask what happened. Whatever it was, it had to be bad, the way you were panicking. The way you had been acting in general, really. You had been off ever since I’d gotten back into town. At first, I thought maybe it was something I did, maybe you were mad about something, but it only took me about a day to realize that it was something that happened while I was gone.”

“What are you saying, Billy?” You couldn’t say the words out loud, couldn’t make yourself reach higher than a whisper as Billy pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex again.

“I’m saying that you didn’t want to hurt just anyone. You wanted to hurt someone who had hurt you before. Someone who would hurt you again. And I think they got to you first.”

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

New Beginnings (Part 1)

Frank Adler X OFC

A/N: I literally spent like FOREVER working on this storyboard LOL I hope you enjoy this series! Ignore the piece of shit wattpad cover... It looked too plain, and I wanted a picture. *shrugs*

Warnings: None really... yet. Swearing, mostly.

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist

“It’s too hot, here.” Annie sighed to herself, air conditioning cranked to the max in her older model truck. Honestly, how do people like this weather? “What do you think, Elena?” She glanced up in the rearview mirror, spotting her snoring toddler in her car seat.

With an eye roll, she went back to concentrating on the busy road, squinting behind her sunglasses to find her little street. “Seriously, kid? We’ve only been driving for, like, twenty minutes.”

Florida was a completely different atmosphere than northern Minnesota.

It was a million times hotter, there were more people in the major cities, and the people were always so busy. Luckily, Annie could get used to the warmer weather, considering she’d decided to move in mid-September. It was still hot as shit in Minnesota, but she knew that would change fairly quick. Minnesota weather was completely unpredictable, but Annie had respected that. She was used to dealing with the rain, heat, snow, and cold – sometimes all in the same damn week.

Now, she was going to have to learn to respect the tropical weather – considering she was moving to Florida during hurricane season.

Hurricanes were nothing like tornadoes…

If there was a hurricane any time soon, she was going to have a goddamn heart attack.

It was a bright, sunny day, though. She picked a great day to leave the hotel and move into her new… apartment? The landlord had called it an apartment, but the pictures made it look more like a small house; and though she hadn’t seen the place in person, she already loved it. It was the only pink house in the little community that she’d found on a renters website.

Moving had been a spur of the moment decision, on her part, because… well… her parents… they died in a car accident back in early June.

Her dad had hydroplaned during a particularly bad thunderstorm, causing the car to collide with a large semi-truck, and they’d lost their lives. Luckily, the other driver was unharmed. Her brother, Gavin, had been on his way home to visit from his first year at North Dakota State University when the accident had occurred.

Unfortunately, Annie and her small toddler, Elena, had been at home – waiting on their arrival back from the store.

Receiving the news about their parents’ deaths devastated the siblings. Elena was too young to understand why her mother and her uncle were huddled together on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably, awaiting the arrival of their grandparents to help with funerals and insurance. Gavin’s girlfriend, Grace, had driven all night to come to Gavin and Annie’s rescue. She helped cook and clean, and she helped with Elena – much to Annie’s admiration.

Gracie had been a friggin’ godsend to the siblings.

When Annie and Gavin decided to sell the family home, they – drunkenly – decided the best thing for Annie to do was throw a dart at a map of the United States and choose a state.

Because mixing alcohol and darts was the best idea they could come up with.

After three tries to get the damn dart to stick in the damn board, it landed near Tampa, Florida. Not wanting to completely live in the city, they’d done some online research and found the apartment – at an amazing price – which was move-in ready by the beginning of September.

That was the reason for the 1,900-ish mile trip from Thief River Falls, Minnesota, to the little town outside of Tampa, Florida. The landlord – Roberta – had promised that the place would be painted, carpets would be cleaned or replaced, and that the place was quite spacious for a single-mother and a toddler.

Not that Annie couldn’t afford to do all the work herself, after she received the ghastly life insurance – blood money – check with too many zeros. Her and her brother split the check down the middle for life insurance, and the house. He got their mother’s fancy Jeep, and she got her father’s old – but reliable – pickup truck. It made more sense, with the move. Not that she had much stuff to move, anyways. She’d wanted a clean break from her life in Minnesota. She’d broken things off with her boyfriend, Lance, and donated all her belongings – only keeping the important items.

The usual type of ‘I need a change of scenery after my parents’ deaths’ move.

Right?

Her brother tagged along on the trip with her, to make sure that the apartment was really ready. All the while, Annie found a job at a local elementary school as an office secretary, which provided daycare for Elena.

Unfortunately, Gavin had to leave early in the morning, due to college starting back up and having an early exam he needed to finish studying for.

So, he had to catch a flight at an ungodly hour, earlier that morning.

“We’re almost to our new home, Mija.” Annie smiled, knowing full well that her daughter was still snoring away in the back seat. That kid could sleep through anything. “You shouldn’t be napping. It’s almost ten in the morning. You should be wide awake, kid.”

Glancing at her phone – which was attached to a vent-clip, so she could see the GPS – she realized that she’d actually missed the turn into the neighborhood, prompting her to sigh in frustration. Whipping around when she could, she followed the road back to her turn, which was partially hidden by a few annoying trees.

Commit that to memory, Annie.

…Stupid ass trees.

“Elena, baby, time to wake up.” When Annie entered her little neighborhood, she reached back to gently shake her daughter’s chubby, little, tan leg. “We’re home.” Annie immediately knew which house was hers… since the bright pink stuck out like a sore thumb. She loved it! “Mija, look.”

She heard the grunt and whine of her little girl, who was not a happy baby when she was woken from a nap. Elena – who’s dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin resembled her father – was glaring at her from her car seat, pissed off. Though Elena’s features didn’t resemble Annie’s, in the slightest, her facial expressions completely matched Gavin’s facial expressions – much to Annie’s dismay and humor.

“Oh, come on, Mija.” She laughed, pulling into her designated parking space – which was a small, grassy area next to her new home. “At least show me your beautiful smile. Today’s a happy day.”

The second the car stopped moving, Elena started straining against the bonds of her car seat, lip protruding in a pout and whining loudly.

“Alright, alright.” Annie sighed, unbuckling her own seatbelt, before reaching for the door. She was immediately hit with a wave of humid heat, which seeped into the air conditioned truck and fogged the windows. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

She hopped down, her five foot three inch stature appearing even smaller next to the height of her dad’s older truck. Walking around the front of the truck, she saw a young girl running around in one of the yards, blonde hair swishing behind her as she chased around a fat, orange and white cat. A woman, who was seated on her concrete steps, was laughing, watching the young girl with the adoration a mother would have for a child.

Speaking of children…

Annie ripped open the door, unbuckling her own child from her car seat and turning back towards their new home.

The pastel pink home had a lot of character, reminding Annie of a small doll house she’d had as a child. The plants around the house looked as if they’d been well cared for, the concrete steps – though slightly uneven – were lined with a metal railing, which would be good to have when Elena learned how to walk properly down the stairs, versus sliding down on her butt or belly. The roof looked a little worn, but that was understandable with Florida’s stormy weather, and the accents of the house were a newly painted white.

The neighborhood, though dated, looked beautifully kept-up.

Elena, whose mood had improved in the last couple minutes, whined to be let down and thrashed against Annie – pissed that she wasn’t immediately able to run around and cause a ruckus.

“Stay close to mommy, okay?” Annie told her, setting her down on the grassy lot, “Mommy doesn’t know this neighborhood, yet.”

Elena immediately ran circles around Annie’s pale legs, which were donned in some jean shorts, and started a fit of giggles – stomping around like a tiny, little weirdo.

“Let’s get the stuff from the back, yeah?” She smiled, watching Elena run to a bush to check out the little yellow flowers blooming, eyes full of wonder. “Then we can tour the house.”

Ignoring her, Elena picked a flower from the bush, plopping down on her butt and examining the flower with her dark brows pushed together in concentration – slightly humming to herself.

With a small chuckle, Annie moved to the back of the truck, moving the cover back so she had access to the few belongings that she’d brought with. There were only a few boxes of belongings and necessities, three suitcases, a portable crib for Elena, a large cooler of food Annie had purchased that morning, some grocery bags, and a blow up mattress for Annie.

That was it… At least, until the furniture arrived.

Grabbing Elena’s things first, she hauled them off the truck, calling for Elena to follow her as she brought them to the front steps. Elena, who had thrown the poor flower onto the ground and trampled it to a mangled mess, toddled over to the front door.

After struggling to get the door unlocked with her arms full, Annie stepped into their new home for the first time, followed by Elena’s little body.

The carpets – which had been replaced, recently – where a brilliant off-white, as were the walls. The front door lead into the living room, which – though small – was perfect size for the Annie and her toddler.

Gently setting her belongings down, she stood there for a moment to take it all in.

She took a deep breath, the natural floral scent of her new house – which covered the smell of fresh paint – wafting through the open windows and tickling the inside of her nose. They’d probably been opened earlier that morning to let the breeze naturally cool the house a bit, since it was hot as balls.

To her left was the kitchen, which was a little more dated than the living room but did have newer appliances. There was a back door, in the kitchen, which was closer to the yard that the young, blonde girl and the older woman had occupied previously. The kitchen was big enough for a small kitchen table, and Annie could already picture how she wanted to decorate.

Luckily, white and light wood were easy to work with.

So many options…

There was a hallway that connected the kitchen to the two bedrooms and one bathroom. The bigger bedroom was, obviously, Annie’s. It was big enough that she could fit a queen size bed and a dresser with plenty of room to walk back and forth – not that she’d spend much time in her bedroom, anyways. The second bedroom would be perfect for Elena to have a crib, a small double bed for guests, and a large bin for her toys.

Annie, in awe of her new home, carried Elena’s portable crib and suitcase to her new bedroom. “This is your room, Mija! Do you like it?”

Elena followed Annie into the bedroom, frowning at her new environment with the look that Gavin got when he was thinking hard. Her little dark brows were pulled together, pink lips pursed into a tight frown, and eyes narrowed as she scanned the area.

God, she was never allowed near her uncle, again. Those two were peas in a freaking pod.

“Once we get it decorated, you’ll like it more.” Annie sighed, thankful that the only stairs in the house were the front steps. “Stay here while mommy gets the rest of our things, okay?”

Elena ignored Annie, again, going for the zipper on her suitcase and trying to unzip it, herself.

While the toddler was distracted, Annie quickly started hauling her items into the home, putting each box and suitcase in the appropriate bedroom and making a mental list of things she was going to order online and shop for.

Once all of their possessions were out of the truck, Annie set to work on setting up the portable crib for Elena and the air mattress for herself.

Shit, why do the stupid sides never want to lock up? Why did you have to become a magic fucking wizard to set up a portable crib?!

A knock sounded at the back door, startling her while she made up Elena’s bed – after she somehow got the sides to lock up.

She didn’t know anyone, yet… Who would knock on her door?

Maybe the landlord?

She did say that she was going to check in…

Annie, leaving Elena to play with her book in her bedroom, made her way towards the back door, spotting the woman and child from earlier – the young girl holding a giant plate of chocolate chip cookies, with an annoyed frown on her face.

“Well, hello.” Annie smiled, opening the back door and waving them inside the empty kitchen. “I’m Annie O’Hara. Are you my new neighbors?”

“I’m Roberta. I’m the landlord.” The older, dark-skinned woman smiled, a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. She recognized Roberta’s voice from speaking to her on the phone. “This is Mary.”

“Hi, Mary.” Annie greeted, opening the door wider to let the duo step inside. “You can come in if you’d like. I still have to order the furniture, though, so there’s not really anywhere to sit.”

“We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Roberta chuckled, entering the home with Mary following closely behind. “It’s been a while since we’ve had new neighbors, but Bernadette’s health just kept declining… Her children had her in assisted living, before she passed.”

“I take it Bernadette was the previous tenant?” Annie asked, leaning against the counter and watching as Mary set the plate of cookies beside her. “She kept the place up really nice. This house looks like it’s seen some love.”

“She loved to tend to her plants. It was therapeutic for her.” Roberta sighed, leaning against the wall opposite from Annie. “She, also, made a mean apple pie.”

“Well, I haven’t baked in a long time, but I do love to cook.” Annie shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest, “My daughter likes my homemade macaroni and cheese.”

“You have a daughter?” Mary asked, eyes lighting up and all traces of a frown disappearing. “How old is she?”

“She’s almost two.” Annie replied, lips lifting into a smile at the potential play-mate for her daughter. “She loves to run around outside if you want to meet her.”

“Can I meet her?” Mary grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “We haven’t had any kids in the neighborhood in forever.”

“Of course, you can.” Annie pushed away from the counter, walking towards the hallway and calling out, “Elena, come here, Mija!”

The sound of uneven footfalls stomping around the hall could be heard from the kitchen as Elena ran from the bedroom to where Annie was calling her name. She came barreling around the corner, a large grin on her face, and an excited cry echoing through the empty house.

Scooping her giggling form from the ground, Annie gave her a sloppy kiss on her little cheek. “This is Elena.”

“Hi, Elena.” Mary waved, excitement rolling off of her in waves. “Can I show her my cat? His name is Fred. He has one eye.”

“Only one eye?” Annie asked, cocking a confused brow as she tried to keep her hold on her struggling toddler – who still wanted to run around and explore. “What happened to his other one?”

“Don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Mary shrugged, like she’d answered the question multiple times, before. “Can Elena meet Fred? I think he would like her.”

“Of course.” Annie held the door open for the duo, still holding Elena, before following them outside into the sun. “Elena loves animals.”

Setting Elena into the plush grass, Mary grabbed her little hand, leading her into the other yard, where the orange, monocular cat was stretched out – sunbathing. Roberta and Annie sat down on the steps, watching the young girls as they pet the rotund cat.

“So, is Mary your daughter?” Annie asked, watching as Elena gently pat the cat on the side of the belly. “She’s adorable.”

Roberta laughed, leaning back so the sun was shining on her face. “Does she look like my daughter?”

“I’m a pale, Irish redhead.” Annie shrugged, closing her eyes as the sun warmed her arms and cheeks. “Does Elena look like my daughter?”

“I guess not.” Roberta replied, and Annie could hear the smile in her tone. “As much as I wish she was mine, she’s not. I just love spending time with her.”

“Well, hopefully her and Elena can spend some time together, too.” Annie opened her eyes to watch the young girls run around the yard, chasing the cat. “Elena doesn’t have much interaction with other children.”

“Where’s her father, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Mexico.” Annie replied, a small wave of guilt washing over her. “I was on spring break when I met her father. Marco worked at a bar just outside of Cancún, where we met. We had a small fling, and one thing led to another… I didn’t get his number or any other information on him, because it was just a one night stand, so I couldn’t exactly contact him.”

She gulped, getting that lump in her stomach that appeared any time she thought about how other people perceived her after learning the truth about Elena’s conception. “I remembered that… I remembered his mother’s name was Elena, though. I wanted to make sure Elena knew her heritage, as much as I could. I’m trying to learn Spanish and named her after her grandmother. I want to educate myself, so she doesn’t feel like she’s missing a part of herself, you know?” Annie frowned, watching Elena giggle as she ran away from Mary. “I googled the bar, after Elena was born… but it burnt down. I have no idea where Marco could be, or even what his last name was.”

“So, you’ve been raising her all on your own?”

“My parents were a big help,” Annie’s shoulders sagged in grief, the familiar pang of loss ripping through her chest. It was never going to get easier to mention them… “They died back in June, and my brother’s in college at NDSU in North Dakota… So, I decided it was time to move on. I needed a change, as cliché as that is.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Roberta laid a warm hand on Annie’s arm, face soft with sympathy. “Losing your parents is hard. I know the pain. I’m sorry you have to experience it so young.”

“I’m just glad to have Elena, Gavin, and Grace – his girlfriend.” Annie smiled, sun starting to leave her pale skin a little pink. “I’m sorry that you know the pain of losing your parents. When did it happen?”

“Oh, honey, it was years ago. Eventually, you learn to appreciate the time you had with them, instead of missing the time you didn’t.” She sighed, patting Annie’s arm before looking over at a truck that was pulling up a few houses down. “Frank’s here. He’s Mary’s uncle. More of a father than any man I’ve ever met.”

Annie watched as Mary abruptly stopped running, a large grin stretching her face as she spotted the older truck. “FRANK!” Mary shrieked, running toward the taller man who was exiting the truck.

“Shit.” Annie whispered as Elena followed Mary, confused that they were no longer playing, and going to investigate. “Elena! Mija!”

Annie jumped up, jogging after the toddler, who had already made her way over to the confused man and joyous child. Mary, who had jumped into her uncles’ arms for a moment, squatted down next to Elena – who was holding her arms out to Mary to pick her up – and lifted her with a small grunt, talking to Frank.

“Frank, this is Elena.” Mary introduced, as Annie quickly made her way over, “Her and her mom are our new neighbors. They’re where Bernadette used to live, before she got too old.”

Frank was a tall man, tee shirt tightly stretching over his broad shoulders but bunching up at his narrow waist. He looked as if he had just gotten home from work, arms and tee shirt stained with oil and grease. His face was unshaved, but kept pretty tame, and he was tan – as if he worked outside.

The look in his eyes was one of a parent, and he looked at Mary like she was his entire world, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of the blonde, little girl.

Well, shit, Annie thought to herself, He’s attractive.

“Mary.” Frank sighed, shaking his head, trying not to smile. “That’s not a polite way to put it.”

“What! She was!” Mary shrugged, as Elena laid her head on Mary’s shoulder in exhaustion from running around. She spotted Annie and gestured over to the woman. “That’s Annie. Elena’s mom.”

“Hi! Sorry about Elena! She really likes Mary.” Annie smiled, brushing her stray red hair from her face, holding out her free hand to Frank. “I’m Annie O’Hara. I just moved into the pink house.”

Frank cocks a brow at her, blue eyes scrutinizing her as he grasped her hand with a stiff handshake. “Frank Adler.”

“Nice… to meet you?” Annie replies awkwardly, watching as Mary and Elena run towards the cat. “Your niece is such a sweet girl. Elena is already fascinated by her. They’ve been playing since Roberta and Mary came to meet us.”

“Nice.” Frank replied, curtly. He watched Mary, paying no attention to Annie as Mary and Elena plopped down in the grass to pet Fred.

“Anyways…” Annie gulped, starting to awkwardly walk away. “Nice meeting you.”

“Yep.” He replied, turning and walking towards his house, before calling out to Mary. “Mary, come eat lunch.”

“Okay!” Mary called back, standing quickly, and turning to Elena. “I have to go eat lunch. We can play, later, okay?”

“Come on, Mija.” Annie walked over, scooping Elena up from the ground, dusting the grass from her little shorts. “Say ‘bye-bye’ to Mary.”

Elena lifted her hand, waving her hand back and forth with a small pout, and Mary ran off to her house.

Well… that was awkward. Annie thought to herself, shaking off the negative vibes from the encounter. He was kind of a dick. Jeez.

Annie and Elena made their way back over to Roberta, who was still sunbathing on Annie’s step. “I don’t think Frank likes me much.”

“What makes you say that?” Roberta frowned, dark eyebrows pulling together, confused. “Was he rude to you?”

“Not exactly.” Annie shrugged, sitting on the step with Elena in her lap, bouncing the toddler as she played with the neckline of Annie’s shirt. “Just… a little standoffish.”

“They went through a lot, last year.” Roberta sighs, gazing over at the Adler residence with a sad look in her eyes. Annie could see her swallow thickly, before continuing, “They’re still recovering from it.”

“I won’t ask.” Annie sighed, pressing her face against the warm curls on the top of Elena’s head. “That’s their business. I just hope that Mary and Elena can play together. It’d be nice to have another child in the neighborhood, so Elena can become more social. I want her to be a kid and be more social. She’s always around adults.”

“That sounds familiar.” Roberta smiles at Elena, holding out her hand for Elena to grasp and examine. “So, why don’t you have any furniture, yet?”

“I wanted a clean break.” A small pang pierced at Annie’s heart as she thought about her childhood home. She missed it. She missed the smell, the squeaky door to the patio, her bedroom, and… her parents. “The house just wasn’t the same without my parents. I wanted to be able to start a new life with Elena. Gavin was already gone, so it was just me and Elena in the house. It didn’t feel right.”

“So, you lived with your parents?”

“Yeah.” Annie replied, replaying the past in her mind like a footage reel. “After I found out I was pregnant, I quit college out of panic. I was newly twenty-one, and only on my second year of doing my generals at the U of M.” A small sigh escaped her, before she could help it. Quitting college was something that she really regretted doing, but she didn’t want to dwell on past mistakes. “I really panicked, but I was lucky to have parents who wanted to help me. They let me come back, gave me a room to stay in, loved their grandchild with their whole hearts, and never judged me for my actions. They were truly the best parents I could’ve asked for.”

“They sound like great parents.” Roberta smiles, brushing her fingers over Elena’s dark curls. “I have a son. He lives in the Miami area. I only see him a few times a year. He has a family of his own, and a life of his own.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Every day.” She smiles, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. “I have Frank and Mary, though.”

“Well,” Annie grasped Roberta’s hand in comfort, “I hope you know that… You have us, too.”

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Part 2 

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The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning: Second Chapter Prologue

It was nighttime, and the waning moon was, for some reason, vividly bright. Mike McGuire was laying in the middle of the ring in their backyard, staring up through the branches. The leaves had yet to sprout, but the buds were set to start opening up anytime. Same could be said for the young plants newly set in the soil near the back porch- a small plot of land freshly tilled up, planted with varying marigolds, daffodils, impatiens, and centered in it all, a rosebush received for Valentine’s. It was nice and neat, every plant perfectly arranged. The same could not be said for the garage.

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

It had all began not even a few days ago. A few days ago after losing their beloved tag team championship belts at the biggest show of the year. They had spoken little. They showered, dressed, went to the hotel, slept, got on the plane the next morning. And somewhere over the ocean, John had turned to Mike, and in a rare initiation of conversation…

“Mike.”

John was looking out the window, like he did with every trip, and there was a quiet mesmerization about it. Mike startled a bit. He didn’t usually initiate conversation. Sometimes early on they wouldn’t speak for hours, and when Mike asked why he wasn’t talking to them he simply replied ‘you didn’t say anything.’ Him breaking his ‘speak when spoken to’ habit usually indicated he had something important on his mind, so they’d shifted and given him their full attention. “Yeah, bud?”

“I turned 42 two weeks ago.”

He didn’t sound overtly happy about it. John’s emotional inflection was a subtle, nuanced thing, but by now Mike had become very attuned to picking it out. Still, they offered him a wavery little smile, probably in an attempt to cheer the both of them up. “You shoulda told me that. Woulda made you a cake.”

John shrugged.

“Better stuff to celebrate.”

His hand touched the window briefly.

“Like us.”

He turned to Mike in his chair and spoke low.

“But what I mean is that … maybe I can continue to do this. Maybe my body holds up a little longer. But I’ve come to realization that I don’t want to.” They sat up bolt upright, their head tilting to the side. For a moment they resembled an Irish Setter who just heard a far-off dog whistle and was trying to process what in the world that sound was. “You wanna stop? Like… this minute?” It wasn’t accusatory- more like confirming that the sounds coming out of his mouth were forming words that they were understanding the meaning of.

“Yes.” “You sure?” “Yes.” They sat back in their seat, expression a little dazed, as if showing mild signs of shock. Then they closed their eyes, inhaled, exhaled. Managed a smile, wobbly for a different reason than their previous one, and reached over, giving his wrist a squeeze. “...okay.”

The declaration had caught Mike completely off guard. In a way, they thought, they should’ve seen it coming at some point- he’d made some remarks about the ugliness of the business, beginning to think past it. But they hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly. It was like driving at 60 MPH and then suddenly slamming on the brakes, the sudden jettisoning into the seatbelt knocking out all your breath and leaving your insides hurting. They went home. He planted his garden, seeming serene and perfectly content. Mike gave Alundra a once-over- they’d had her painted in their absence, the vivid yellow and red flame paintjob traded for an emerald green with orange flame one. The new vanity plates installed- NSFW 1. Something stabbed inside them. The next day. Grocery shopping. Mike going over their particulars. So much had been provided for them that had to be taken into account now. Health insurance- the extended coverage wouldn’t last forever, and though they could easily afford it, plans for two people in their shape wasn’t going to come easily. Something pricked at their eyes. Mike kept staring at their phone. It would ring eventually, they just knew it, a gruff voice on the other end demanding what in the blue hell they thought they were doing, is this what I wasted my time on you for, pulling yourself out of obscurity and stumbling into the perfect partner just to vanish like a fart in the wind? They weren’t sure the old man would say that. But what would they think, when they heard? How would they explain ‘he wanted out and I couldn’t deny him that and I can’t keep going in good fucking conscience without him’? And so on till today. This evening. Just now. Mike found themselves in the garage. They looked around. A small box was on the table- a prototype of a new piece of merch. A snowglobe. Little figurines of them under a dome of glass filled with water. They held their title belts. Shake it, orange and green confetti glitter swirled around. Pieces of fanmail, notes on their Twitter, asked where they’d gone. Some wished them well. Some worried that they were hurt or worse. Some said they felt betrayed. Why couldn’t you have even said goodbye? We believed in you. Quitters. Mike’s grip tightened on the snowglobe, their teeth gritting together hard. ‘It got taken from me and I wasn’t ready, and it fuckin’ sucks. So bad.’ Their own words from a year past slam into their brain and with a roar, they throw the snowglobe down, sending a shatter of broken glass and glitter water splatting over the concrete floor. A t-shirt snatched from a box, the phoenix that’d been emblazoned on their viking flags torn in two with an obnoxious ripping sound, the rest of the box kicked over. Their head whipped around, glaring viciously at the cardboard face of David Scott. Screeching, all but consumed by their fury, they dashed forward, grabbing him by the top of his large, scowling head and tearing the cutout apart. They couldn’t believe their own anger. They felt robbed, cheated, resentful. And all those feelings made Mike feel even worse, because they didn’t want to direct them at John. They couldn’t have kept going if he hadn’t wanted to. They didn’t want to be one more person who knew his desires and chose to ignore them. Mike’s train of thought slowly cooled their anger. All that was left was a giant mess of broken glass, torn t-shirts, dented boxes, ripped up cardboard. Something sick heaved in their chest and they left the garage, numbly trekking through the backyard until they found themselves in the ring.

-------------- So there they were. Maybe they could salvage something. Maybe the fans they hadn’t completely alienated would still want them, for old time’s sake. If they got back into auto repair maybe they could even sell them there as a bonus. Nostalgia was always a hot ticket, and somebody in the future was bound to remember that one tag team that got super hot and then vanished without a trace out of nowhere. Raising an arm, they laid it over the bridge of their nose, shielding their closed eyes from the moonlight as they tried not to sob. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.

John stood in the doorway of garage backdoor. Behind him was the aftermath of the disturbance that woke him. He had noticed immediately that Mike was gone. He had sat up from the bed and waiting until the noises subside. Quietly, he went to the garage and looked upon what had happened. His emotions ticked up slightly to disappointment that the quiet last few days had been a simmering pot and it had just spilled over. Soft footsteps went across the yard to the source. He stood just outside the ring, keeping his distance for the moment. He cut through the ambience of the night.

“I know you’re angry at me.” There was a long pause. The soft, occasional chirp of an early cricket or two. “‘M not mad at you. I feel shitty that I’m mad at all. S’ fuckin… complicated.” They didn’t move, their speech muted. If their anger was a fire, right now they were the embers that some knowledgeable Eagle Scout had doused with water and stirred up with a stick. Only You Can Prevent Wildfires. “...i didn’t want to not give you this. I feel like I’ve let people down. Myself a little. And then I get mad at myself cuz the alternative is what? Making you run yourself down when you don't want to anymore just to feed my own fuckin’ dream that I should’a grown out of? It… I…” Sniff. “...it just happened so fuckin’ quick. Like slammin’ a book shut ‘fore you read the end.”

John circled around to the wooden steps leading up onto the apron. He put a foot on the first step.

“I thought it would just be the end of a chapter.” Slowly lowering their arm from their face, they scooted themself across the canvas a bit away from the center- not a recoil, but an invitation. Reaching up, they curled their hand around the bottom rope. They knew that. It made them feel even more foolish for exploding the way they had, the silvery light of the moon accentuating the blush standing out on their damp cheeks. “I’m bein’ a fuckin’ dumb baby, aren’t I…”

“No. Not happy that I advertently made a decision for you as well.”

“We’re a package deal. Can’t do it without you. Don’t want to. I know what you said’s right. Our story ain’t over. Just feel like I’ve been thrown violently into the next scene without any time to brace myself. But I’ll get over it. Get over myself, maybe.” Their right arm, the one not gripping onto the rope, reaches out to the side, fingers beckoning a bit. “‘M sorry I broke all that stuff… poor Milscott…”

“It was just that. Stuff.”

He stepped up onto the apron.

“I believed in what we said. All of that talk about hall of fames and being the greatest. It was fun. It lit a fire inside of me. But it made me feel like we were walking down the wrong path. Like we almost did before.”

“Mouthy little shit talks a big game.” There was a dry chuckle at that. All that talk of being the first tag team in the EWC Hall of Fame would likely amount to just that. Talk. It was one of the things that’d jagged at them these past few days, that their ultimate legacy was apparently a foul-mouthed hothead who made big grandiose boasts only to bail without warning. Exhaling, they turned their head toward him, hand still reaching in his direction. “How so? We weren’t bein’ dicks again, were we?”

“No.”

He walked along the the edge of the apron, stopping just before them.

“Don’t think it was that simple. Our words, though? They started to mirror something we swear we’d never be. Started to have some folks nod along that weren’t before.”

It took Mike a moment to puzzle that one out, their mouth pursing, flicking two and fro, nose crinkling a bit. After a few seconds, though, their red-rimmed eyes popped, left hand releasing the rope and going to their mouth with a gasp. “Noooooo. You can’t fuckin’ mean… no. No motherfuckin’ way we were sounding like him. … Were we really?”

“Maybe not exactly. But it made me think. Readjusted a few priorities.”

He had finally stepped through the ropes and entered the ring. He stood over them.

“I would have gone as long as we had those belts. And sure, there were amazing possibilities on the horizon. I love the sport. But I had been wrong in the assumption that it was the only thing I was meant to do. You made me see that.” Mike looked up at him. From this angle he looked impossibly huge, and it made them feel smaller in comparison. Physically anyway. John never made you feel small as a person, and if he did, you probably deserved it. “...maybe I’ve had it backwards this whole time then. I kept seeing things as… I don’t fuckin’ know… a block building. You take out any one part of it- me, you, our home, the business- and everything falls to pieces. I mean I figured we’d stop someday, maybe in a year or two, kinda ease out of it, tell everybody where we were going an’ why. But in all those big fuckin’ pipe dreams I didn’t think about what you thought. I just assumed you wanted the same thing I did when it came to the business an’ that was fuckin’ selfish of me. I’m really sorry.”

He knelt down beside Mike, before finally sitting back, crossing his legs.

“I wanted all of that. But there’s more to us, I believe. I’d be naive to think there isn’t conflict elsewhere in the world but it is less likely than what we were doing. I had remembered what I loved about the business before it was taken all away. But more importantly, I now have something I never had.”

“...VIP customer status at Barnes and Noble?” The cheeky grin that flicked onto Mike’s face wasn’t the wavering, willing-yourself-to-smile expression she’d given him the last couple days. Like a breath of fresh air, it was real. Slowly, they pulled themself up to a sitting position, folding their legs likewise, facing him, reaching for his hands. Without hesitation, John placed his hands into theirs. He smiled in response to Mike’s joke. Sighing softly, Mike ran their thumbs over his knuckles tenderly. Even if they had been mad at him, it wouldn’t have lasted. They could be mad at a lot and hold grudges for ages, but never at him. Something about John was impossible to be angry with- least that’s how Mike saw it. “So… now what?”

John shrugged in response. But in that same moment, he felt an answer come through.

“We stop hiding who we are.”

[readingraebow]

Leaving Las Vegas Section One

Cherries - Bars

1. What happens to Sera at the beginning of the novel that puts her out of work? Sera is a prostitute and she's out working one night. Well, these three teenagers ask her how much it would cost for them to have sex with her. She says that she doesn't do groups but they show her a bunch of hundreds and finally she agrees for three hundred dollars. When she shows up at her hotel room, though, one of them says that they want to fuck her in the ass. She says no and when one of them continues screaming that, she says that maybe it's one of the other guys he really wants to fuck in the ass. Well, then he hits her, knocks her out and she wakes up at several points to them doing exactly what she told them they couldn't, peeing on her breasts and then, finally, she wakes up alone. She's bleeding heavily and her face is all banged up so she won't be able to work for at least a week while she heals.

2. Who is Mary Singer, and in what way did she come in and out of Sera’s life? Mary is Sera's neighbor, for a time. They meet the day that Sera moves into her new apartment. She ends up going to Mary's to visit and stays for dinner. They are friends for a while: Sera, Mary and Mary's husband, Slim. But then Sera has a bad night and invites Mary over and tells her all about it. Mary says she'll have Slim get Sera a job at the hotel where he works so Sera doesn't have to be a prostitute anymore. But Sera asks Mary not to tell anyone. Mary agrees that it will be their secret. But the next day, the landlord comes to visit and Sera is evicted from her apartment.

3. What flashback of Sera’s do we read about that explains more of why Sera left LA? So this Arab guy, Gamal Fathi, who goes by Al as his American name, used to have this, uh, arrangement with Sera. It sounds like he was basically her pimp. In one of the flashbacks, he basically gives her to some Americans from New York who he is trying to impress. Al would use Sera for whatever he wanted from her and although she never wanted to do what he wanted, she was in love with him. Well, when she finally left, it was after Al kicked her in the stomach and shouted Leave! It seems he'd already replaced her with a new girl. And she did leave. She heard him shouting her name as she waited for the elevator. But she got on the elevator, and then the bus to Las Vegas, and she left.

4. Who ends up being Sera’s first trick when getting back to work in LV? So this hefty guy comes over to her and says Al sent him. Then Gamal appears, after seven years, and basically tells her to go with the guy. So she does. He's awful to her and basically rips open the wounds that had just healed from the three teenagers. But he pays her, uh, I think it was five hundred dollars. But he's her first trick. And the worst part? Al took her keys and told her he'd wait for her in her apartment. *shudders*

5. What happens to Ben during the hours of 2am-6am? Those are the hours when the bars are closed and apparently in LA during this time, it wasn't legal to buy alcohol anywhere at night. So unless he's stockpiled during the day, he either binge drinks at home until the bars open again at 6 or, once, when his stockpile was empty he went to a convenience store and bought a family sized bottle of Listerine to tide him over until 6.

6. Even though Ben has had decently good success driving while intoxicated, what are the 2 stories he tells about the alcohol bottles in his car? So first, Ben was coming home one night after doing a lot of cocaine and he was doing 95 on the 405 and he looks over and a motorcycle officer is keeping pace with him. The officer waves and Ben waves back. Then the officer motions for Ben to pull over so he does. The officer remarks that Ben was going kind of fast and he says he's super late and asks if there's any lipstick on him. Unprompted, he also tries to give the officer his license but the officer waves him off and lets him go with a warning. And the second close call was when Ben was drinking while driving and he just dropped the empty bottle in the car to be disposed of later. But he thought he saw an officer pull out of a speed trap behind him. So he went around a curve where the officer couldn't see him and tried to throw the bottle out of what he thought was his open passenger window. It turns out the window wasn't open and it shattered. It also wasn't an officer behind him. And he found the bottle unbroken in his backseat the next day. He also purposely didn't fix the window.

7. Why does Ben keep money in his breast pocket? A few months back he woke up in withdrawals, already shaking. He went to the liquor store but it was already closed. So he went to a bar that was still open and when he ordered, he tried to extract a bill from his wallet but his hands wouldn't work. So the bartender had to be persuaded to open his wallet and pull it out himself. Since then, Ben has kept most or all of his money in his breast pocket because it's much easier to extract. Even if he is shaking pretty badly, he can still manage to pull bills out of his breast pocket. Plus he also sees it as a safeguard. If his wallet is stolen, he hasn't lost his money.

8. While packing up his things in preparation to move, Ben donates a whole bunch of stuff. He then lights the stuff on fire that he can’t keep but doesn’t want anyone else to possess. Are you like Ben in that there are things you don’t want/need to keep but also don’t want anyone else to have? Honestly, no? There's stuff that I don't want/should probably get rid of but I'm honestly pretty lazy and don't really clear out stuff like I should. But whenever I do have a cleaning burst, I usually give stuff away either to Goodwill or to friends. Because stuff is just stuff. Even if it's stuff with bad memories attached, I either throw it away or donate it. (But also Ben lighting his stuff on fire reminds of a Sebastian Maniscalco bit where he talks about having yard sales and anything that didn't sell, his dad would make his destroy because he didn't want people getting it out of the trash for free if they wouldn't buy it at his sale, ahahaha.)

  Section One Reading Journal

Okay. So. I have no idea what to even say about this book. It’s, um, interesting??? On the one hand, we have a prostitute who is raped and on the other we have a man who is drinking himself to death. What a pair.

I will say that the really in-depth view of these two lifestyles really is fascinating. With Ben you honestly feel like you are binge drinking. His section is almost claustrophobic; it’s so disorienting. And I don’t even know what to say about Sera???

I honestly feel like the constant flashbacks make her story confusing. I kind of wish they weren’t just thrown in in parenthesis. I wish they were more defined as flashbacks. But they do also serve to make her story disorienting. So I get that it’s a writing tool. It just feels kind of confusing.

So yeah. I don’t know if this is really a book that you can enjoy since it’s pretty unpleasant subject matter. But it’s, uh, interesting. I’ll say that.

[xottzot]

2018-20(MAR)-25th--Sunday (early AM)--microdust outside and whithin, in a lotta PAIN, and sudden accidental ablutions mess b4 dawn.

2018-20(MAR)-25th--Sunday (early AM)--microdust outside and whithin, in a lotta PAIN, and sudden accidental ablutions mess b4 dawn.

That all somes the hell up so far...pre-dawn.....

Terrrible pain for me.

Microdust.

VERY high gusty winds all night and morning. Clouds, not ever a drop of rain at this hellhole. Damn jets flying low and loud from Perth Airport over here.....

So far no extra loud big black cocaktoos being casuals and tearing up living treees and dropping messses for me to frorver clean up....NOT YET......they'll be later....

ALL THE crap I've cleaned up MULTILE TIMES and tidied up will all return AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.....

Soon it will be raining...maybe, kinda, they think so.....anybody got a coin to flip for it again and post to the public for our guess?

It's been a COLD morning. That's what woke me up early, after a HOT night. And it was imossible to get beack to sleep.

Poor Sam & poor Max have lost all sense of time and days and of life itself and any joy and hopes whatsoever withiout dearest Fliss being with us.

After my emergency pre-dawn ablutions myself, of which had also awoken me in bed, I atended to that, then had to wash everthing that I was wearing and anything else that needed washning.

It was now pre-dewn and just enough light to let them outside so they could see what they were doing wihout me using a tiny aging sometimes-working flashight to guide them, and I loaded up the washing machine and put into it stuff I'd pre-washed in a bathtub (because it neeeded it to) put it onto a low water and double wash cycle that includes a rinse, and I put in disinfectant which also had to done.

Dear Fliss knows what I mean.

She too had to do with even with herself, espceially if she had been eating poorly or out-of-date food was consumed...always a reality in Western Australia even from stores. Even if you go and get a 'fresh bottle of milk' from the Koongamia general store out of their fridge, you run the risk of buying a bottle of on-date to be used right away for the next next day it has to be thrown out that very day dated milk. - So not only are you buying regularly priced bottles of milk, you're alway almost expired bottles of milk, that you bring home, put in your fridge and drink over days as ordianary and you ingest diseased milk, and you get huge bouts of throwing up (violentally vomiting) food posioning, --- Ths has been going on got on for years and years and years.....

So I alwasy attend VERY close attention to the use-by-dates for milk from there (as to anything).

Most people just rush up and grab the first bottle that has been stacked and restackd to be the first ones for customers to grab. They drink the stuff in the street and or give it to their feral children on the street kerb straight out of the bottle and then they get throwup sick.....and then the adults get throwup sick......I've seen several people throwing up not far from the Koongamia shops SO MANY TIMES you have no idea, even when dear Fliss was here but she was sleeping from her very late nights of slave hours working imposed on her by job companies, it was going on in the streets. -- The trown up stomach contents gets eaten by roaming feral crows and feral cats and birds and spread all about.....you got the idea yet of this hellhole?

Fliss herself became very wary of milk from the 'corner shop' and that's why she always bought milk from elsewhere. Even dry milk that we woudl have to reconstitue as it was more guaranteeed to be healthy. -- (And I still also do, but it means I have to travel away and leave momentarily always guarding this hellhole property from it being broken into by the criminals who are always contantly rife and roaming, even the criminals who vomit everywhere from the milk-gone-off, the dairy-products-gone-off, the alcholo and booze drunken or mixed-in with it all, or any other illegal substances of which they all so actively swill down their gullets....... - I think dearest Fliss was here one night (or it was just afterwards) when a car was tearing about the streets, tore to a screech outside on our very hovel, a woman leaned out of the open door, she vomited hugely and longely all over our driveway, then simply closed the door and they just went back to tearing aroud on the streets again as if nothing had occurred. - Feral cats and feral bird and crows attended to that as well. And spread the results far and wide.

That was the stage when things were rising up so bad that Police were increasingly all about this hellhole....all because of the same criminal aboriginals in cars tearing about all the time.........the same criminals responsile for so MUCH crime all about Kongamia and all around and fanning out even to Perth and anywhere...AND their abriginal kids they fostered into criminiality came next,.....and they STILL are around.......pushing prams of abo toldders to be the forrever populations of criminals of this hellhoel area......

Yesterday (Fridaya), there was a 'usual' Police car with is lights and siren blaring flashing by as it rushed by close here....this has been going on or so long that it is aboriginal traditional lore almost........and a Friday without a screaming Police car tearing past them to entertain them means they've soehow 'missed out' on yet some more 'entertainment' for them.

As I'm alwasy saying......'false calm'........

Today is Sunday. All such as that I've just said will also go on Saturday, the afternoon, early am into Sunday......they all sleep things off whilst the feral kids then roam free being criminals, then the adult crimials rise up op of their crypts, and will begin their Sanday sessions of drunken driving/tearing about/crime/assaults/crime with vehicles (including ram-raids).....things go on in Sunday...with Police vists (or not)...then on Monday will come the traditional Police visits to the aboriginal criminal households as new shifts of young Police take over and arrest some and haul them quiety away, somietimes to the wailing of Aboriginal woman and banging on the Police vehicle body as they try to bluff by talking louder for the 'innocent' partners of innocent children locked inside should be released and to their loving and open drunken/drugged up arms because they all such resonsible people........

Police often fall for all this shit!

Often the 'children' are drunk drugged-up too! No matter what their age or youngest of age!

I don't WANT ANY OF THIS TO OOCUR....but it has occurred so many times at this hellhole area that I can write it above as if it's a TV scipt for a pathetic TV show......

The weather ingredients are ripe...now they're all wearing their dark long clothing that helps them to hide in bushes and up in trees from Police and when they're doing crime....it's not 'fashion'....it's criminals fashion here.

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

I love you dearest Fliss and want to be with YOU just as you prmosised me and yourself to be away forever from this hellhole never to return, nor speak or think about it again.

Nightmares night and day for me dearest Fliss without being with you.......

Poor Sam & Max are suffering as you have NO IDEA.....and I am NOT doing any harm to them, I never ever have been. - It is this damn hellhole.

he winds are igh and getting higher and blusterry. THAT acts liek a stretsweeper and cleans up all the roads of this hellhole area and makes it seem to passersby that all is well..........whilst all the garbage piles up in peoples yards.....

Which incidently was what the unefence corner household has done, the one I've written about before......not teh aboriginal criminal household......but they've had enugh and have fled....butthey left a veritable small mountain of rubbish in teh rented yard at the side of it. And that pile of rubbish has already been gone trhough by aborigials and ripped apart and scattered about.......

THAT is hwo they live normomally. Utterly ferally. Utterly disgustig.

Down at fatgust abo criminal husheold they have their OWN huge pile of garbage heaped up in their driveway against the fence. Teh abo kids play in it. Throw it at each other, Throwi it around, get yelled at and hit for it. But the pikle grows ever larger becase when Swan Shire rubbishn bin collection day draws closer, all that garbage wil mysetrioulsy 'vanish'....because it gets carried away and stuffed into innocent peoples own garbage bins. The other residents get blamed by the council. MORE SHIT AND STRESS for everyone. -- This has long since become 'expected' for this hellhole area......

A hellhole which dear Fliss destroyed your mind and body and spyche and good soul and which is destroying mine........

In pain.......and also gotta go rush off again for the littlest-room-in-the-house bofore I silently explode again......and become a foetid mess......again.....

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

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with YOU. Just as you promised me, Please rescue me from this hellhole...I beg of you. To be wih you once again and to be the loving couple helping all deserving others that we always were, and helping each other ourselves..........

No wonder I dream about my death so constantly and almost evertime I sleep.........

And how nobody cares............

NOBODY KNOWS THE REALITIES OF THIS HELLHOLE...and THOSE THAT DO REFUSE TO ADMIT IT OR THEY SIMPLY LET OTHERS DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT ALL.....

What will be next......the Swan Shire grass cutting contractors out and about in being huge tractors and using hand held whipper-snippers to cut the dread grass everywhere?

Or the road sweeper trucks cleaning up the streets and roads for all the same reasons......

And the feral aboriginal criminal kids who never got to any school will be all out and having 'fun' running around all of them......or the feral aboriginal toddlers wil be doing the same......

The SCREAMING...the YELLLING......the SHRIEKS and CRIES.........

THIS FUCKING HELLHOLE AREA..........Just down from the Koongamia shops, (which there is also a liquor store,and a fish & ship store & a general store).....and just around the corner from the Koongamia school (so handy for the aboriginal criminals NOT to go there to school) but to use the carparks as raiding areas for unsuspecting fools who park their cars there.............the Koongamia oval, a avoured place to tear about on illegal unlicensed motorbikes as well as tear aboutall on ALL the street and got the shops at their whim....the pedesrian walkways barred by council posts to stop traffic but which allows illegal motrobikes and criminals and aboriginals on pushbikes to flee from being ursed from Western Ausralian Police (hence too why they now travel about so much in unmarked cars).....and more and more and more.......THIS FUCKING HELLHOLE........

Which dear Fliss I want to be away from with you, with us both AWAY from here TOEGETEHR, just as you promised me and yourself....which nobody bleieves me you assured me me of anymore and has not doen so for years.......

Instead I keep geting blamed for any and everything....for daring to say anythnig abut ANYTHING....I don't want to be alive like this....I truly don't. No wonder why poor Sam & Max plead and cry for you too Fliss.....as I too cry and plead.....but nobody cares, nobody helps us dear Fliss to be together....there is nothing but hell and shit and lies and always those who do all that prosper so very very very much whilst anyone decent is told to hurry up and die....... - I want to be with you dear Fliss. - I'm sorry I'm crying right now too. I'll have that warm shower now and try to hide my tears whilst I imagine once again blood flowing down the ricektty damaged drain......

I love you dearest FLiss and want to be with YOU.

P.

[thunder0-0sage]

Summerbolt (manga script) - chapter 7

CHAPTER 7: TIME FOR PUNISHMENT!!

 We see Vega on the cover, sitting on a table in a bar, surrounded by casks and holding two bottles in his hands, all filled with ‘Jack Willshire’, laughing very hard with a drunken face while the skull of a horned animal is hanging on the wall behind him.

‘Vega: ‘-Let’s have a drink together, boys and girls!! It’s on me!!’’

  After landing on the ground, the phoenix explodes in lots of flames from which comes out a middle-aged man, folding his arms and looking terrifyingly calm making the people that are still in the yard panic even more.

‘Finally we see ‘Sunbird’’s true face!!! His flames of justice will now burn all those who have destroyed the order in his high school!!’

Tokura: ‘-Damn it! Why did he have to come now?!’ (the headmaster clears his throat, making everyone jump back with comical scared faces, confusing him)

The headmaster: ‘-Well? Anyone care to explain what happened here? I heard lots of commotion but decided to neglect it and then I saw the school getting ripped apart. I needed to take some measures then but it looks like whatever has been going on around here is already over.’ (Hikaru steps forward and the headmaster turns to him)

Hikaru: ‘-There was a slight quarrel between two students but luckily, everything ended without any significant damage.’ (everyone behind him looks at the mad genius with comical puzzlement while the headmaster points at the destroyed yard)

The headmaster: ‘-Is this what you mean by ‘without any significant damage’, Summerbolt?’ (Hikaru shivers in terror as Yuki steps beside him while the headmaster becomes angrier by the second, making the ‘summer bolt’ gulp)

Yuki: ‘-I’m responsible for what happened here, headmaster.’ (Hikaru is ultra-stunned along with everyone else)

The headmaster: ‘-You … you’re the new girl. Yuki Iceflame, was it?’ (Yuki nods)

Yuki: ‘-I accidently bumped in Ulura during lunch, spilling her drink all over her, which led to a fight between us. I defeated her just now.’ (the headmaster starts thinking about something while everyone looks in horror at him and then at her)

Seiren: ‘-You idiot!! Why did you tell him the truth?! The whole blame’s gonna be on you now!!!’ (the headmaster stops thinking, looking at Yuki again)

The headmaster: ‘-If that’s the case … (smiles in a most idiotic way, comically puzzling all the students) … IT’S OK, GIRL!!! The case is solved! Everyone can go home now!! You’re free from the classes for the rest of the day!!’

Yuki: ‘-But … aren’t you going to punish me for what I did? I thought fights between students are forbidden in schools.’ (the headmaster steps closer to her, still smiling)

The headmaster: ‘-Listen, Yuki. Our school is different from all the others. Things like that happen in here pretty much every day. A fight as destructive as the one you had hasn’t happened in years, though. That matter aside, I’m not blaming you for another reason.’

Hikaru: ‘-What exactly might that be?’ (the headmaster hugs Yuki and Hikaru over the shoulder and starts whispering)

The headmaster: ‘-Ulura has been getting on my nerves for quite a while now. The other teachers and students feel the same. That’s why I’m very happy that a person who can get rid of her has appeared!’ (Yuki nods with a cute smile)

Yuki: ‘-Well then … you’re welcome!’ (the headmaster lets them go and they walk aside, smiling at each other)

The headmaster: ‘-Despite that, you still have to be punished. (the duo stops and turns to him) It will be very inappropriate of me as the headmaster if I don’t censure you for this. It will reflect badly on our school’s already ruined reputation.’ (the two nod, looking sadly at the ground)

Yuki: ‘-So what’s going to be my punishment, headmaster?’ (the headmaster pats her shoulder with a reassuring smile)

The headmaster: ‘-Oh, nothing much! Just to clean the yard, the pool, the gym, and tidy up some of the rooms!’ (the duo is looking at him with comical confusion, desperation and disgust)

Hikaru: ‘-Excuse me, headmaster, but don’t you think that’s a lot of work for one person?!’ (the headmaster smiles devilishly, terrifying the two once again)

The headmaster: ‘-Right you are, Hikaru! That’s why you and the rest of the class are going to help her out! (all the other members of the class are comically shocked and broken, hearing this, appearing behind Yuki and Hikaru while the headmaster smiles even more widely) Oh, and by the way, you’ll have to do this till the end of the week!!’ (everyone is even more desperate and comical now, falling on the ground)

Aria: ‘-But that’s not fair at all!!’ (the headmaster turns to the class members only partially so that everyone can see the phoenix flames in his terrifying gaze)

The headmaster: ‘-Not a word!!!’ (everyone jumps up, frozen with identical terrified expressions)

Everyone from the class: ‘-Yes, sir!! We’ll get it done in no time!!!’ (the headmaster becomes quiet and calm again, walking aside)

The headmaster: ‘-Now get going and watch each other’s backs. (his serious face is seen as he keeps getting further, now talking to himself) I wish I could say the unexpected stuff are over for you but I doubt that’s true.’

Later on, we see Yuki’s class, everyone wearing PA class outfits, standing in front of the destroyed yard, each one holding different cleaning devises and agents, looking most comically desperate.

Vega: ‘-I guess we were too quick to be happy about how things turned out, guys.’

Yuki: ‘-I’m very sorry. It’s all my fault.’ (Annabel pats her shoulder with a smile)

Annabel: ‘-Don’t worry about it! It’s what a class is for, right? So we can always face our problems together!!’ (Yuki nods with a smile while Tokura steps ahead with his hands on his waist and a most decisive smile on his face)

Tokura: ‘-Alright then, people! Let’s cut the chit-chat and get to it!! We’ve got lots of work to do, after all!’

Everyone roars decisively and later we see pictures of how they’re doing their work: cleaning and throwing out all the garbage from the remains of the yard, going across the class rooms, cleaning and tidying them, going through the toilets and all the other facilities in the school as well.

At the same time Seiren is chasing Yuki with a comical lusty expression while she’s screaming and covering her body with a comical scared and ashamed face.

Afterwards, the class gets to the pool, pouring lots of water in it, getting everyone’s clothes wet and lots of things can be seen through them now, forcing the girls to cover themselves while Tokura looks at each of them with lust, licking his lips.

They reach the gym where all kinds of balls are thrown, eventually starting a game of metalball*, the six boys facing all the girls in an awesome match. During the match, King hits the ball with his head while Vega stars kicking it around, maddening both sides. Hikaru is the angriest of all, throwing lightning bolts in all directions, forcing the others to use their elements as well.  

Soon enough Yuki joins the fray with a smile while Exo is trying to escape from his attackers with no success and a comical scared and desperate face, crying.

All of a sudden, the headmaster stops by the gym to see how the class members are doing, totally broken by what he sees. The whole class is standing in front of him afterwards and he looks very serious, veins protruding all over his forehead while his eyes are set ablaze, now several times bigger.

The headmaster: ‘-WHEN I SAID TO CLEAN THE PLACE UP, I DIDN’T MEAN TO DESTROY IT, FUCKIN’ IMBECILES!!! (everyone from the class is crying with a comical desperate expression as they start praying to the headmaster for mercy, now on their knees)

The class: ‘-We’re soryyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! Mercy!!!’ (the headmaster roars at them with a dreadful angry expression, exploding in flames)

The headmaster: ‘-GET OUT!!!’ (the classmates run while Hikaru and Seiren smile at Yuki, winking at her, to which she replies with the same)

Then we hear Yuki telling the story from her point of view.

Yuki: ‘-That’s how my first week in ‘Sunbird’ High school ended, along with the punishment for our class. Everyone was hoping to finally get a break, but alas, we weren’t so lucky.’

Yuki, Hikaru and Seiren are seen walking around the streets in Deckstoru later on, as the baby doll’s confused, the mad genius is angry and the pervert is extremely pleased.

Hikaru: ‘-Seiren, why are you even walking with us now?!’ (Seiren turns to him, smiling even more widely)

Seiren: ‘-Why? Am I bothering you?’ (winks at Yuki and she winks back at him while Hikaru becomes even angrier)

Hikaru: ‘-Firstly, you live in the exact opposite direction. Secondly, you’ve been walking with us like this all week and thirdly, I really don’t like the way you’re looking at Yuki!!!’ (Seiren moves closer to him with a villainous smile)

Seiren: ‘-Ho-ho! Are you jealous, lightningbringer?!’ (Hikaru moves closer to Seiren, also smiling dreadfully)

Hikaru: ‘-No, it’s just that I can read your perverted thoughts, stormbringer!!’ (Yuki’s head appears between them, closing her eyes with a comical tortured face)

Yuki: ‘-Are you guys ever gonna give me a break?! Why is it that all our conversations end up being about my body?!’ (the trio suddenly stops, looking ahead where two silhouettes appear from the shadows)

Seiren: ‘-Who’s there?! Show yourselves!!’ (two boys step forward, hands in their pockets and wide villainous smiles on their faces)

Yuki: ‘-Who are you supposed to be?!’

Hikaru: ‘-They’re Hock and Gorudora, members of Ulura’s class and the most famous bullies of ‘Sunbird’.’

Seiren: ‘-What do you want, damn thugs?! (steps forward and red fireworks explode around his fists) Just to give you a warning. If you even dare get close to Yuki, I’ll beat the shit out of you!!!’ (Hock and Gorudora wave with their hands, shaking their heads)

Hock: ‘-It’s nothing like that people, please! She beat our dark queen in front of everyone, fair and square.’

Gorudora: ‘-Still, you guys insulted the strongest beauty in ‘Sunbird’. There will be consequences for that.’

Hikaru: ‘-Just cut to the chase!! What do you want from us?!!’

Hock: ‘-We need to deal with this matter. With something bigger.’

The trio is shocked while the two bastards screw their eyes, laughing in a most hideous way.

‘What is this mysterious ‘bigger’ thing the two bullies are talking about?! There are definitely going to be lots of consequences from this clash but how great exactly?!’

 THE END

 Metalball* - a typical sport for Saiten resembling volleyball but here, the ball’s made of metal and any part of the body can be used while the use of devas is prohibited;