#super annoying that my computer died right before this last chapter went up

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Ingo and Emmet head home.

We're so back. Thanks for reading!!

[whitesparrows97]

Cat’s Cradle – Part 1

Pairing: Cat Hybrid!Yoongi x Human!Reader/Min Yoongi x Reader (slight Namjoon x Reader)

Genre: Hybrid AU

Summary: Yoongi is your best friend – and your lovable and not at all grumpy cat hybrid, who lives with you under the same roof. He despises your boyfriend Namjoon and makes sure the human gets to feel that. A fight between you unfolds and from then on everything can only go downhill. 

Warnings: This whole series contains angst und explicit sexual content. Also I’m sorry but Namjoon is kind of a dick in this story. 

Word Count: 5.3K

Note: This story has more or less written itself. I don’t think I’ve ever written a story as quickly as this one. I am also relieved in a way, I feel so exhausted after days of working through it. I really hope you like it! This is my first story about hybrids, so forgive any inaccuracies or deviations from reality. The story is just fiction and I’ve bent the rules a little bit. The story has 5 chapters, the next one will follow on Sunday! I would be very happy about any feedback from you!

Next

(gif by: btsofficial on giphy.com)

With a loud groan Namjoon rolled off you and dropped on the bed next to you. His loud breath was the only thing that echoed back from the four walls of your bedroom. 

“God, you’re incredible, baby,” Namjoon said, still breathless and looking up at the ceiling through almost closed eyelids. You straightened up and put on your panties and a loose t-shirt. With a smile you looked up at Namjoon, who was still lying naked on his back, one arm laid exhausted over his abdomen.

“I’m going to get some water, would you like some as well?” you asked and smiled as he just gave a powerless shrug of his shoulders. You made your way to the kitchen and stopped in surprise when you saw Yoongi standing in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey,” you greeted him, somewhat embarrassed to see him, and got a glass from the cupboard.

“Hey,” the blond mumbled back without paying any attention to you. His hands were busy making himself a sandwich and he had his eyes firmly fixed on his task. You felt the blood rise to your cheeks and were glad that it was already getting dark outside and Yoongi might not notice your red cheeks.

“I didn’t know you were home. Otherwise we would have been a bit quieter…,” you said in a soft voice when you thought back a few minutes ago and that Yoongi must have overheard everything.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay,” he reassured you. “I can hear everything anyway, no matter how quiet you are,” he added with a sigh and as if on command, his black hybrid ears turned on his head. You looked at the two dark cat-like ears that stood out strongly against his blond hair. You watched the small movements that showed you that Yoongi was picking up sounds from his surroundings. Your gaze fell back on Yoongi’s face, who wiped the palms of his hands on his pants and looked briefly at his creation.

“Let me know next time, and we’ll be quieter anyway,” you said, and stroked briefly over Yoongi’s back as you passed him to the sink to emphasize your apology. His bushy black tail moved relaxed from one side to the other and you knew he wasn’t angry with you.

“It’s all right,” the blond said one more time before he turned around and disappeared into his room. You suppressed a sigh as you listened to the water that flowed into the glass. 

It wasn’t the first time Yoongi heard about your love life, it was the same the other way around. You lived together since you were both in your last year of high school. Your father was a cop and when he was on patrol one night, he saw Yoongi wandering the streets alone. He took him to the police station to check who the hybrid belonged to. When it turned out that Yoongi had no owner, your family and you took him in. You never poked around to find out what happened to his previous owner. But the fact that Yoongi had a school education indicated that his former owner had taken good care of him and it was therefore unlikely that they had simply given him away. Your father suspected that his previous owner, an older lady as it turned out, had probably passed away.

You flinched when suddenly two hands were placed around your hip and you were pressed against a strong chest. Namjoon’s lips lay on your neck and he spread gentle kisses on your sensitive skin. 

“Stop,” you laughed as he sucked on your neck and his hands caressed your belly. You put your hand on his as his little finger slipped under the waistband of your underpants. “Not here, Namjoon,” you said seriously this time, looking over your shoulder.

“Why not?” he murmured and kept sucking your skin. You knew you’d have a big hickey on that spot tomorrow morning. You bit your lip to suppress the moaning. “Yoongi is in his room, so we’re not bothered here.”

“That’s not how it works,” you said with a small smile and pushed Namjoon back. You ignored the annoyed sigh he uttered.

“Then in your room?” he asked and looked at you questioningly. “Second round?”

Now it was your turn to sigh. You played with the idea of giving in to Namjoon for a moment, but your conscience took over. “Not today, Joonie. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

Namjoon let out a small frustrated laugh, then shrugged. “As you wish,” he said and went back to your room. You stood in the kitchen for a moment confused by his strange behavior before you went after him. When you entered your room, Namjoon had already put on his jeans and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

“Are you leaving?” you asked and couldn’t hide the slightly hurt undertone in your voice.

Namjoon nodded. “If you have to get up early, I’ll let you sleep.” He grabbed his bag, which he wrapped around his shoulders, and kissed your forehead as he passed by.

“Don’t be like that just because I don’t want a second round,” you muttered sulking as you followed Namjoon through the narrow hallway to the apartment door.

“If you’re uncomfortable with your hybrid being there,” Namjoon began as he turned to you, “then say that. But don’t make excuses, Y/N,” he finished. 

You frowned in surprise. “It’s not because of Yoongi, I have to get up really early tomorrow.”

“Whatever, baby,” Namjoon said goodbye and went to the door.

“Bye, Namjoon!” Yoongi’s a bit too euphoric-sounding voice was heard from his room, and Namjoon stood there frozen for a moment before he dismissed the thought of replying, pushed the door handle down and disappeared. You rolled your eyes. Why couldn’t the two of them just get along?

You didn’t think twice and opened the door to Yoongi’s room without knocking. Immediately, he exclaimed in surprise as if he didn’t hear your footsteps to his door anyway. “Hey! What happened to the good old knocking? As far as you know, I might be naked right now,” he complained and held his blanket up to his clothed chest.

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you said, tearing the blanket from his hand, but you couldn’t stop the grin. But you became serious again when you sat down on the edge of the bed next to Yoongi. “Why can’t you at least pretend to like Namjoon? Your nagging is super exhausting.”

Yoongi dodged your gaze and out of the corner of your eye you saw him wrap his bushy tail around the middle of his body. His hands reached into the fur and he started to brush his slim fingers through it. It was a habit he displayed whenever he felt uncomfortable. Immediately you put one hand on his cheek and lifted his face. There was uncertainty in his eyes and something you couldn’t quite make out.

“I don’t like him,” he said bluntly and pushed his lower lip slightly forward.

“I know, but he’s important to me,” you sighed and without realizing it you began to scratch Yoongi’s ears. Yoongi leaned into your touch and a soft, hardly noticeable purring filled the room.

“Do you think you’re as important to him as he is to you?” Yoongi asked and you stopped moving. The blond pressed his head against your hand as a request that you should continue with your petting.

But you dropped your hand and turned your gaze to your legs. “I’d better go to bed, I have to get up early tomorrow morning,” you said softly after a short unpleasant silence and got up. Before you were out of reach, Yoongi grabbed your hand. You looked at him questioningly.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N.” His blond hair fell into his eyes and with an irritated movement of his head, he pushed it away from his face. 

“I can take care of myself,” you reassured him with a smile. He squeezed your hand once more before you went into your room.

More half asleep than really awake, you stared at your computer screen the next noon. You hardly noticed the hustle and bustle in the open-plan office around you as you concentrated on the numbers and letters in front of you and tried to make sense of them. Next to you, you heard a deep laugh.

“Someone looks tired,” Seokjin noticed who bent over to your seat. 

Your blank look slipped from the screen to the side and you looked at the dark-haired man. You blinked your eyes briefly to get the haze off your mind. 

“Sorry,” you yawned and stretched your arms in the air to stretch. Your bones cracked considerably and you flinched inside. Maybe you should start exercising again since you’ve been sitting at your desk all day. “You know those days when you don’t really wake up?”

Seokjin smiled. “Isn’t every day like this?“

You had to grin as well and pushed yourself away from the desk a bit and turned completely towards Seokjin. You needed a five minute break. “How are things with Ellie?”

Seokjin raised one eyebrow when he looked at you. “As if the two of you aren’t talking about me,” he replied and continued to file his documents. “Isn’t that what best friends do?”

You shrugged and a grin played around the corners of your mouth. “You probably don’t even want to know what best friends talk about.”

“If you say it like that, then no way,” Seokjin said with widened eyes, but his smile betrayed that he was joking.

You sighed as you glanced at the screen of your mobile phone, which lit up and displayed an incoming message. It was just a spam mail. Seokjin followed your gaze and your frustrated expression. “What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise?”

You gave him an evil sideways glance; not him too. You were content with one sourpuss at home, talking about your bad decisions. “Not exactly trouble,” you began, and turned your gaze back to the screen in front of you. “He’s just not answering since last night.”

“Does that happen often?”, Seokjin asked with a frown, his full attention on you now, while the documents lay untidy on the desk. 

You shrugged your shoulders and leaned against the back of the chair. “I don’t know, yes. Sort of,” you mumbled, your thoughts painting various scenarios. Now that Seokjin addressed it, Namjoon often didn’t answer for a long time. At the beginning of your relationship, you had been worried when he didn’t call for a whole day. But he had explained to you that it was because of his stressful work and that he couldn’t answer the phone during working hours. As the boss of a large company he had to set an example.

Yet you often wished that he would make an exception for his girlfriend.

“I had asked him if we wanted to spend the lunch break together, but he didn’t answer,” you explained to Seokjin, who still looked at you waiting.

“We can have lunch together if you like,” Jin offered but you declined with thanks. 

“That’s very sweet of you, Seokjin, but I wanted to surprise Yoongi at work. At least he’s happy to see me spending time with him.” Your voice sounded more bitter than you intended, which you realized with an inner sigh. 

“Come on, Y/N,” Seokjin said and bumped his shoulder against yours. “Namjoon might really just be busy. I’m sure he is just as happy about your company, even if he doesn’t show it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be his girlfriend after all.“

“Yes, you’re right. Thanks, Seokjin,” you said smiling and clapping your hands together in joy as you looked at the clock. “Lunch time,” you almost chirped and Seokjin laughed at your euphoria as you grabbed your bag and said goodbye with a ‘See you later’ into the lunch break. 

Yoongi worked not far from you, just a few blocks away. He shared a small office with a friend from college where they worked on songs for smaller artists. On the way to Yoongi’s office you went to a small café and five minutes later you continued your way with three cups of coffee and some sandwiches. 

“Hey, Hoseok,” you greeted the brown-haired man who opened the door at your ringing. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he greeted you and his brown tail moved joyfully from right to left. His ears perked up, which were on top of his head and stepped aside so that you could enter. 

“I brought you some coffee, decaf,” you quickly added the last part and Hoseok’s tail wagging was back, which had stopped briefly. “Do you think I’m forgetting that you can’t handle caffeine? I won’t make that mistake again,” you laughed as you remembered when you brought Hoseok a black coffee and didn’t know that dog hybrids couldn’t cope with caffeine. Their already often-excited nature didn’t mix well with stimulants and you had a guilty conscience when you had to leave Yoongi with a hyperactive Hoseok because your lunch break was over.

“You’re the best,” he said and literally jumped back to his desk with his cup of coffee. Your eyes fell on Yoongi who was staring at his computer with big headphones on his head. But the black feline ears on his head showed you that he had noticed your presence. 

You put the blond man’s cup of coffee on the desk next to him and put a sandwich next to it. You pulled up a chair and silently watched while you ate one yourself as Yoongi listened to, rearranged, shortened or lengthened various tracks. You had almost finished your coffee when Yoongi sighed and took the headphones off his head

“Hey,” he greeted you properly and reached straight for his cup of coffee. A short humming told you that he was more than satisfied and grateful for the black liquid. It was no wonder when you looked at the shabby coffee machine, which made the coffee taste more like water than real coffee.

“Are you making progress?” you asked enthusiastically and nodded at the monitor.

“Been better,” he admitted and smelled the sandwich. The white tip of his bushy tail twitched happily as he smelled the tuna fish. “But there are days like this and days like that.”

“Are you eating and drinking enough?” you brought up slightly worried. You knew that Yoongi forgot those essentials quickly when he got involved in a project. 

“What do you think?” Hoseok snorted from behind his computer. “I always bring food, but he never touches it.” Hoseok almost sounded offended and you knew that if the monitor didn’t cover his face, he’d put on a pout. 

“Your food smells like dog food,” Yoongi grumbled and you heard Hoseok choking on his coffee.

“Yoongi, don’t be so mean,” you warned the blond guy, but he dismissed your remark.

“Hoseok is used to that. You should be too,” he murmured. He gave you a quick sideways glance that you almost missed. “Why are you here? Weren’t you going to see Namjoon?”

Acting casually, you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t have to spend every lunch hour with him, do I?”

“He didn’t answer again?” Yoongi hit the bull’s-eye and there was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. You knew that Hoseok was trying hard not to listen to your conversation. But the small room and his sensitive hybrid ears made that impossible. 

“He’s just busy,” you said quietly, playing with a thread from your T-shirt that had been unravelled at the hem.

“Busy my ass,” Yoongi said irritated and with a loud bang threw the packaging and the empty mug of coffee into the trash. You flinched at the loud noise. “If he cared about you, he’d answer.”

Just like the night before, his words tore a deep hole in your heart. Deep down, you knew he was right. Yet you wished Yoongi would be a bit more careful with his clear and open words.

“He cares about me,” you insisted.

“But his actions speak otherwise,” Yoongi replied directly and started to move files on his desktop. You felt the anger slowly climb up your stomach and tighten your throat. 

“You’re just the right person to say that,” you muttered and Yoongi’s head spun towards you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You could hear from his voice that he too was irritated. His tail hit the bar of his chair making a rhythmic dull sound.

“You were never able to have a relationship for more than a few months. So you’re probably the last person who can give me advice on my relationship,” you said and straightened up in your chair in which you had previously sunk in. You knew that you would regret having fought with Yoongi later on just because you were disappointed in Namjoon’s actions. Yet you couldn’t control your anger.

Yoongi angrily expelled air. “I’m getting tired of you always coming to me about your problems with Namjoon. But apparently I went through all this trouble for nothing when I’m not good enough for you anyway,” he said and angrily pushed his computer mouse aside. He looked sideways for a moment and you felt like something slipped out of his mouth that he didn’t want to say.

You ignored the feeling as you were too angry about Yoongi’s accusations. “I just came by to surprise you, and you attack me like this. You started this whole Namjoon thing.” You got up from your seat and reached for your bag.

“Oh, don’t pretend,” Yoongi replied, who also jumped up and stared at you angrily. Your gaze fell briefly on the sharp canines that pressed slightly into his lower lip; one more sign that he was angry. “You’re only here because Namjoon has no time.”

You laughed coldly. “Of course, that’s the only reason I’m here,” you agreed with him ironically. 

You stared at each other in silence for a moment, your breathing faster than usual as Yoongi dropped back to his seat. “But don’t come back next time when your oh so great boyfriend has dumped you again.”

You were on your way to the door, but when he commented, you turned back again.  “You know what, Yoongi? That statement doesn’t surprise me at all. You don’t even know what feelings are, as cold as you are towards other people. You even insult your only friend, Hoseok, just because his food doesn’t smell the way you want it to.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at the keyboard on his desk. Slowly, he lifted his head and with a pull in your heart you saw his tail which wrapped itself protectively around the middle of his body. “My only friend, huh?” Immediately you felt guilty when you heard how hurt his voice sounded. “And what does that make you? It seems I’ve over-interpreted what’s between us the past few years.”

“Yoongi,” you said softly, and took a step towards him. Immediately he backed off with his chair. A small gesture, but you froze on the spot and felt as if someone had given you a slap in the face. 

“Just go, owner,” he said and his voice sounded so cold that the blood froze in your veins. That he used the name he had discarded years ago almost made you cry here and now. 

You felt the tears burning in the corners of your eyes as you turned around and left the office without another word. That you and Yoongi had arguments every now and then was normal. The two of you had spent your teenage years together, and whining and quarreling had been practically daily occurrences. Still, this was the first real fight between you and on top of that because of something so stupid. As you tried to hold back the tears as you headed back to your office building, your phone vibrated. Angrily you pulled it out of your jacket pocket.

You exhaled a sarcastic laugh. Of course, when it came to that matter, he would answer. Without replying, you put the phone back in your pocket and prepared yourself for the longest four hours of work. During the whole time, the argument between you and Yoongi echoed in your head from one side to the other. The loud thoughts kept you from thinking clearly and concentrating on your work. All the more relieved you were when you could finally pack your things and go home.

The car ride back to your apartment seemed longer than usual as you impatiently honked at the driver in front of you when he didn’t move directly at the light turning green. You didn’t know why, but you felt like every minute mattered. Every minute you two were fighting was a minute too much.

With clammy fingers you unlocked the apartment door and were surprised when you entered the dark apartment. You took a look into Yoongi’s room, where the door was slightly ajar, but again nothing but emptiness. Strange, Yoongi was always home earlier than you. 

To take your mind off things, you prepared dinner. Maybe that would help Yoongi forget the fight. Your eyes fell on the digital clock at the stove when you turned the fish in the pan. You frowned in thought. Had Yoongi told you about an appointment that you had just forgotten? As you prepared the two plates of food, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. You felt guilty for a moment when you saw the still open and unanswered message from Namjoon. But he would now experience first-hand how mean it was when the other person didn’t answer. Insecure as you were at that moment, you doubted that he even noticed.

You clicked on Yoongi’s chat but he hadn’t texted you. You were about to send him a message, but decided against it. Yoongi was a grown man and you had no right to tell him when to be home. Still, it wasn’t easy for you not to take it personally. You just hoped it wasn’t because of your fight. 

With little appetite, you poked around in the food and shoved it in as best you could before you covered Yoongi’s plate and wrote a short note to him that he only had to heat it up when he got home.

With tired bones and exhausted thoughts you went to bed a little earlier than usual. As you went into your room, your eyes fell once more on the dark room next to yours.

Even when you got up the next morning, you found an empty apartment. For a brief moment of fright, you thought he hadn’t come home all night. But the still wet shower brought a sigh of relief. He had been home at least once. You plodded into the kitchen and had to smile when the plate of food was no longer in the fridge. Maybe everything was fine between you and Yoongi after all and the few hours had smoothed out all the waves by themselves. You knew each other long enough and Yoongi knew you didn’t mean it.

Your smile died immediately when you wanted to throw away the empty cereal box and your eyes fell on the contents in the trash. With a wrinkled nose you approached a bit, just to be sure, and then slammed the bin shut again. Yoongi hadn’t even bothered to hide the fact that he had just thrown your food away. He wanted you to see it. But maybe you gave him too much credit and he just didn’t care at all. 

You swallowed the tears and forced yourself to eat the cereal. Even though you felt like it got stuck and could barely get past the fat lump in your throat. The sadness gave way to anger as you put the bowl in the sink and headed off to work. Yoongi’s behavior was childish. Sure, you said things that weren’t right. But he was no innocent angel either. He knew how insecure you were about Namjoon. You’d felt attacked yesterday and it wasn’t right how you reacted. But throwing away a meal was not okay.

All day long you thought about what to say to Yoongi when you got back home. You imagined scenarios of what might happen, but all this was in vain when you came back to an abandoned apartment a few hours later again. Tomorrow, you decided. Yoongi had Fridays off and would definitely be home. His day off was sacred to him and he would never get up early. This would be your chance to talk to him before you left for work and settle your dispute. Even though he’d probably curse you for waking him first. But maybe you would profit from the element of surprise.

The next morning, before your alarm clock went off, you were torn from your sleep by a noise. You blinked your eyes as you groaned at the clock. You could have slept half an hour longer. You closed your eyes for a moment, but then forced yourself to get up to avoid waking up even more tired after a half-hour’s sleep. The sound that woke you up has already been forgotten, you scurried into the bathroom.

You almost cried out in surprise when the door was pulled open at the same moment as you reached for the handle. Your eyes widened as you faced a strange girl. She had apparently been just as startled and held her flat hand on her chest and stared at you as well. 

“Oh my God, you scared me!” she exclaimed laughing. A gush of warm steam from the shower came down the hall to you.

“I live here,” you muttered softly, but her laughter drowned out your still sleepy voice.

“I’m Seo-yeon, nice to meet you,” she introduced herself and held out her hand. Hesitantly, you grabbed it and she beamed at you with her straight, white teeth. Her handshake was firm and confident and with a smile she stroked her wet hair back.

“Babe, you ready?” you suddenly heard a voice behind you. “Not that my roommate–” His voice broke off abruptly as his gaze fell on you. For a moment you just looked at each other and he seemed to be surprised for a moment that you were already awake.

“Before I what?” you asked and skillfully ignored that Yoongi had introduced you to this girl as a roommate. Not as Y/N, not as a friend. As a roommate. Your mind literally spat out the word.

Yoongi hesitated and you wondered if it was really a hesitation or if he just ignored you. His gaze lay on the girl behind you and a small cough made you turn your glance away from the hybrid in front of you.

“Sorry, may I,” she asked, gesturing to the space between you and the door frame. 

“Sorry,” you muttered and took a step to the side. You couldn’t help looking at her perfect figure, which was only covered by a towel. You had to look up at her a bit when she walked past you, so tall she was.

You felt the blood rise to your cheeks as you watched Yoongi give you another quick look and then close his door behind them. For a moment you stood in the hallway, stunned, before you got ready, too. When you left the bathroom a few minutes later Yoongi and the girl had already left.

If Yoongi used his day off to spend it with someone, then that person must be really important. 

You ignored the short sting in your heart and decided to talk to him after work today. Even if he should refuse or, even worse, if he wasn’t there, you would call him and leave a message. But you had to get rid of that weight on your chest. If Yoongi didn’t have his day off today, you would have visited him at the office. For a moment, you thought about visiting Hoseok and asking him about Yoongi. But you quickly dismissed that thought when you saw his sad face in front of your eyes when he found out that you visited him just for that. You had learned after Wednesday that some men, some hybrids, were a bit sensitive to that.

Therefore you breathed a sigh of relief when you came into the apartment in the evening and the light was on. You listened for a moment, but all you heard was Yoongi clattering with the dishes in the kitchen. No girl in sight. You exhaled a relieved breath and took off your jacket and shoes, much more relaxed that you had the opportunity to have a clarifying conversation in private.

Carefully and on tiptoes you followed the scent from the kitchen. Yoongi seemed to have just finished cooking when he put the dirty pan into the sink.

“Hey,” you greeted him and you had to clear your throat once to make a sound at all. No answer. “What did you make for dinner?” you asked and walked a few steps towards him.

“Food,” he replied and grabbed his plate. Without even looking at you, he tried to push his way past you towards his room. Before he could, you held him back by the wrist that was not holding the plate.

“Wait, Yoongi,” you said, but he still stared stubbornly straight ahead. “Can we talk?”

His eyes turned to you, and looked at you coolly for a moment. “About what?”

“About Wednesday… I didn’t mean it like that–“

“I don’t care what you meant,” he interrupted you and yanked his wrist off your grasp. You flinched at the strong movement and again when the tip of his tail hit your calf with a hard slap. It didn’t necessarily hurt, at least not physically. You were more shocked and surprised.

“Yoongi, please wait,” you went after him and at the last moment put one foot between the door he had thrown behind him. With the flat of your hand, you pushed it back open. “I’m really sorry about how I acted.” Yoongi still didn’t show any reaction when he sat on the bed and ate his food as if you weren’t there. “Was that your girlfriend this morning?”

Yoongi muttered something incomprehensible with the food in his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

Yoongi swallowed his food and looked at you before answering thoughtfully. “Because then I only had to listen to you telling me that I’m incapable of having a relationship anyway,” he explained and took another bite. 

You had no words and just stared at him as he ate his meal in peace.

“Oh by the way, Y/N,” he said and you flinched at your name. You had never heard him pronounce it so coldly and indifferently before. “I’m moving out at the end of the month. Then you’ll have your peace and quiet here.” 

For him, the subject was over when he pushed past you again and brought his empty plate into the kitchen. You, on the other hand, felt like you were rooted to the floor. What did he say? He couldn’t be serious. You spun around and almost collided with Yoongi. 

“What do you mean, you’re moving out?”

“That means I’ll pack my things and live in a different apartment,” he explained bluntly and shoved you roughly aside by the shoulder to get into his room.

“But… but why?” you asked and felt the tears burning in your eyes. Frustrated, you blinked them away and they fell to the floor.

Yoongi paused for a moment, his back facing you as he stood in the middle of the room. He turned his head slightly without looking at you directly. “Because I can’t stand being under the same roof with you anymore.”

[devinescribe]

No Way

Chapter 5 to '100 Promises'

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Enjoy :)

"I am not wearing a bikini!" You shouted. "Well, just your luck, it's the only one left in your size, so unless you want to get shot, wear it," Niragi threatened, throwing it at you. You caught it with a huff, and sent a glare his way. He only sighed and rolled his eyes.

It was a simple, white, high waisted one. Nothing fancy, it was simple and you wouldn't stick out. You started getting undressed, and he laid back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, even though it's nothing he hadn't seen before. I mean, come on your two had lived together during and after college. As well as the multiple sleepovers in highschool. And the times you had to change quickly because of events... The point is, he's seen it before. You know, before he 'disappeared'. "So, anything new back in the old world?" He asked. You thought for a second.

"Well, I got the tattoo I told you about, the game you were working on before never got finished as you're one of their key programmers, your mom wanted to go through and delete things of your computer I stopped her don't worry, Mrs. Aiko got a new dog, our landlord is a bitch wich didn't change, just thought I'd give you an update, the coffee shop we went to gave me free coffee for a week because you 'died', I started playing Bendy and The Ink Machine like you told me to, and after you 'died' I got a goldfish- OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT MY GOLDFISH!" You panicked. You had the bottom of the swimsuit on, and we're panicking. He looked towards you. "Finish getting dressed damn woman. Oh, and nice piercings, didn't know you had those," he said nonchalantly, nodding his head towards them. "Oh.. yeah I guess. Hurt like a bitch- stop distracting me from the fact that my son is going to die!" You went back to panicking as you put the top on. "Ok, ok, calm down. What's the fish's name?" He asked trying to distract you. ''His name is Tommy, and-and I got him when t-they pronounced you dead... I didn't wanna be alone," you answered back, stuttering over your words, the panicky feeling being a bit overwhelming for you. You finished getting dressed, picking up the clothes you had been wearing. He had seen that you were wearing one of his old hoodies, but said nothing, seeing as technically, back in the old world, he was dead. He didn't understand why you were so distressed over goldfish, but took 3 other human's lives only a few hours ago.

"Tommy?" He questioned. You nodded your head. "And our apartment was so quiet after you disappeared. I really thought you had died," you whispered. 'I hate that she's making me feel things... She can't get hurt because of me. Then I'll be alone again.'

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Why did you name him Tommy?" He asked, watching as you put on the hoodie you had been wearing. "Just because. I thought it was a cute name for a goldfish," you answered, calming down a bit. (Or, if you want, there's other reasons like let's say a certain... gamer? Mhm, that's what I thought. Simp.) You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the sleeves of the hoodie you had in your lap "Also. If I'm not mistaken, that's my hoodie," he said, a smirk on his face. You looked down. "Yeah... it is. And what?" You answered back. "You can keep it," he said, going back to whatever he was doing. You sighed heavily, laying back on his bed. The second you did, your whole body felt the pain of the whole day. You cursed under you breath. "If I fall asleep, you are free to push me off the bed," you stated, laughing a bit. "You said you wouldn't bring that up," he huffed. "I lied~" you giggled. He could tell you were sleepy, but it didn't matter to him.

You two were over at his house, sitting at the kitchen counter. It was a few weeks after his mother had apologized for the things she had done, and life was peaceful for him when his dad wasn't home, which was a lot of time. His dad was out everyday at work and didn't come home till late. The other time his life wasnt peaceful was at school, where bullies tormented the both of you. "There's this new cafe we could go to?'' You suggested, looking at him. He had bags under his eyes, and was basically falling asleep on the chair. "Are you ok?" You asked, placing a hand on his forehead, checking for fever. He didn't seem to have one. "Fine... I'm fine, just tired," he muttered, pushing up his glasses. "Did you stay up playing that game?" You asked, pouting a bit. "No. I've been studying for a really big test coming up. I'm fine," he explained, yawning right after. "Come on, you need to go take a nap," you said, grabbing his hand and dragging him up to his room. "No I don't, I invited you over, it's rude of me to not spend time with you," he said, holding onto your hand, trying to pull you away from his room. "I don't care. You're tired, take a nap, I'll be right here when you wake up," you stated, pushing him onto his bed. He sighed, mumbling a thank you before falling asleep. You went to leave, but noticed his hand was still holding yours. You pouted, trying to get his hand off so you could sit on a chair in his room. "(N/N)... stay," he mumbled in his sleep.

You looked down at him, and smiled. You sat on the edge of the bed, and ran your hands through his hair, humming a song you'd heard. (I'd be humming Isabela's lullaby-) He had definitely fallen asleep a while ago, but you thought it would help. "You're an idiot sometimes, you know that?" You whispered. You knew he couldn't hear you, but a part of you said it would help him sleep. You took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand besides his bed. You curled up besides him, hugging his face into you chest. To you, at that age, and with who it was, you didn't see a problem. . "I wonder what test you were studying for... I don't remember you mentioning a test before," you whispered, still playing with his hair. "Completely unrelated, but your hair is super soft," you muttered. You felt yourself drifting off to sleep.

You smiled, remembering that day. "You can go to sleep. I don't care. I won't be here in the morning though, I have patrols and stuff," he said, seeing you falling asleep. You hummed, and slid off the bed, and down to the floor. "What are you doing?" He asked, watching you curiously. "Going to sleep," you murmured, a yawn escaping your mouth. "On the floor?" He questioned. He heard you give a noise of confirmation. "Ok, but you can't complain about your back hurting tomorrow," he stated. "Mhm..." you muttered, sleep taking over your body.

It was early morning when you woke up. You sat up, rubbing the tired out of your eyes. You looked around, and stretched. Niragi wasn't in there and you sighed. Remembering what Niragi had said about patrols, you just decided to stay in his room. Not like you knew where anything was. Then there was a knock a the door. "Coming," you said, loud enough so they could hear. You got up from the floor, and walked over to the door, opening it. You looked down, seeing Chishiya. "I really don't like that you have to look down at me to talk to me," he muttered. "Get used to it, I'm 6'2 l, taller than Gi-Gi and... much taller than you," you stated with a grin. He looked up and smirked. "Gi-gi? Is that one of your nicknames for him?" He asked. You nodded. "You're not allowed to call him that though. That's my thing, got it? I'm the only annoying bitch he's allowed to have in his life," you joked. "Oh, I'm sure you'll be the only girl in his life," he whispered to himself. "Did you need something Chishiya?" You asked. "Well, yes and no. I was wondering if you would like me to show you around?" He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. You thought for a second, before nodding your head. "Alright, let's go."

He lead you throughout the different rooms. As he was an executive, he had access to more rooms, but he couldn't go into an area with weapons or the underground. The hotel was quite large, your favorite part being the grand staircases and intricate pieces of decoration around certain places, as well as the columns "And my least favorite place is there. It's basically a club. People dancing, blaring music 24/7, people in general.... They all act so happy. It's weird," he shuddered, shaking his head. You laughed. He looked at you strangely. "Is there something wrong?" You asked. "Oh... no, I like your laugh. It's... endearing," he said, tilting his head down so his hair hid his face. You smiled, thanking him for the complement.

Little did you know, someone was watching from afar.

Later into the night, you heard a loud horn blaring. You had been out at the pool area with Chishiya, and a girl who's name you learned to be Kuina. She was a firecracker of a person, and you enjoyed it. She was fun, and you'd only known her for a few hours. "That's the alarm for the games. We all meet in the main hall, collect the papers, and go to the car with our number. You just need to follow Ann and Aguni, as they will assess you today, ok?" Chishiya explained. You nodded. A part of you was nervous because other people were going to be watching you do your thing, but another part of you was excited. Excited for the games. A part of you had enjoyed the thrill of risking your life in the last game. You were also extremely bored. You hadn't seen Niragi all day, and you knew you probably wouldn't see him till late at night. So, a full day of talking and walking around with Chishiya, and also later on, Kuina. Not that you minded their company, but you needed something to do. Something to give you that rush of excitement. Of being alive. Back in the real world, people saw you as fragile and weak. You were held back from excitement in your life because of your father, and when your mother came back into the picture, she became another anchor to your life.

Ann had found you in the swarming crowd of people, and grabbed your wrist. "This way," she said. You nodded, letting her lead you. There was a car with at least 6 other people in there. You guessed that they didn't exactly have to use normal road laws, so it didn't matter. Aguni and Ann sat in front, and you took your spot in the back. The ride to the arena was quiet. You could hear a few other engines, and maybe some shouting here and there. The games arena wasn't as far away as you thought. There were a few other people there, none wearing the wristbands from the beach. You went up and grabbed a phone, letting it do it's face recognition.

'8 players registered. 2 minutes to registration closing'

You stared at the phone, and back at the table where they were. There was 3 more phones left. You then saw three people come into the game arena. They picked up their phone with a sigh.

"Ann? Have you ever noticed that there's always enough phones for all the players?" You asked, looking at the woman. "Hm? What do you mean?" She questioned, crossing her arms. "Well, before those three came in, there was exactly three phones left. Meaning that there was enough phones for all the players. Same thing with my game from yesterday. There was 7 phones for 7 players. So, the game master hads an idea of who and where they're going. Have you ever noticed that?" You repeated, explaining in a bit more detail. She looked at you shocked. "... No, I can't say I have. Thank you," she stated. 'This is only her second game? And she's noticed something that we haven't in that little time? She'd be a great executive with a mind like hers. But, she'd also be a great milital with the capacity to think like that. Maybe with her, we won't have to worry about Niragi going rogue. I have a feeling he wouldn't dare hurt her.'

You nodded your head with a smile. "Oh... another thing, I apologize for bothering you again, but um... Did you see Niragi at all today? He told me about patrols, but I don't know," you asked. You were embarrassed to say the least, but you really wanted to know. "Since both Chishiya and Niragi suggested that you join the militals, we can't have them helping you. Niragi was off doing who knows what. He's always around somewhere," she explained. You nodded.

'Registration Closed. Game: Pick Your Poison. Difficulty 7 of diamonds. Rules: You must pick which plant is not poisonous to humans. There are cures to each poison, but you must know how to make it. Time Limit: 2 hours. Clear Condition: If players can't pick out the non poisonous plant in the time limit, venomous snakes will be released into the arena, and all doors leading out will be locked until all remaining contestants die. Game will commence in 5 minutes.'

You looked down at your phone. "What an interesting game this shall be," you said with a smile, walking off to where the arrows were pointing. "If you are unaware, the different suits represent what kind of game it will be. The number is the difficulty," Aguni said from besides you. You nodded, taking in his words. "Diamonds are a game of wit and intelligence, hearts are games of betrayal, spades are games of physical endurance, and clubs are games of teams," Ann added. "Thank you," you said, bowing towards them.

You reached the room, seeing it was more of a lab than anything. There were tables filled with different kinds of plants. Some looked like berries, others looked like normal vegetation.

'Game Start'

You sighed, walking over to a table, noticing some that looked almost like blueberries. "Those are blueberries right? Which means that one is the clear choice. Too easy," a guy snickered, picking one up and popping it into his mouth. You took notice of the shape of the leaves, and the coloring being different than most blueberries, as well as a few other key characteristics. Then it hit you. "Don't! You idiot... that's Atropa belladonna. Or, as you may know it, deadly nightshade," you scolded. He spat it out immediately. You knew it would do him not good as he had already chewed on it, and swallowed what he had crushed. He would die.

"You have knoledge of plants?" Ann asked. "Sort of... I got really into crime cases and stuff, so different kinds of poisons stuck with me. It's also what I studied in college. A major in forensics, and a minor in psychology," you explained sheepishly. A small smile made its way to her face. "Alright. Well, show us what you got."

There were ten minutes to go. You only had 2 plants left. One looked like a string of grapes, and the other like blackberries. Only 2 people had died, and that was because of their own idiocy. The one who had eaten the deadly nightshade, and another who'd eaten holly berries. She'd also trusted a girl, which is why she ate the berries in the first place. Basically trust and idiocy. Same thing, no? "So which one is it wise girl? We have ten minutes pick already," a guy angrily said. "Shut up, I'm trying to think," you stated, looking carefully. He huffed. "You're just a dumb girl. You've probably only been guessing and you're going to get us killed," he stated. You growled, picking up one of the deadly nightshade berries. You waited till he opened his mouth again, and threw it. It fell in his mouth, and he began choking, clawing at his throat. "Just guessing huh? Well, I'm guessing you're going to die," you taunted going back to look at the berries in front of you, ignoring the wheasing sounds behind you. "These aren't poisonous. They're mulberries. Blackberries have zero to none poisonous look alikes. Those, however are pokeweed," you stated, grabbing one of the blackberry look alikes. "I'll eat it, so if I'm wrong no one else suffers the consequence,'' you said, placing it in your mouth.

'Game Complete. Congratulations.'

The chiming voice startled you. You smiled once you realized what you'd done. "Well done. I'll report this to Hatter, and he'll decide what to do with you," Aguni said. You nodded. "Y-you killed him," a girl stuttered besides you. You turned to face her.

"H-he was my brother. You killed him!" She shouted. "Sounds like a you problem," you said. Aguni and Ann had already left the room. "You're heartless... you can't get away with this!" She screamed. "Listen here you self righteous little brat. If I remember correctly, you told one of the other players to eat the berry for you because you were scared you picked wrong. She took pitty, and did it. And she died. So you also killed someone. You also didn't help him when he was choking, so you have just as much blame. Maybe you wanted him dead? Oh, and another thing, who's going to stop me from doing anything? No one. There are no rules here. Murder, arson, fraud... everything's legal here. Back in the old world, we didn't do it because of other's moral compasses. We were scared of judgement. But here? Who's judgement are we scared of?" You said, glaring at her. "Plus, your brother seemed like a level 100 douche bag. If anything, I did you a favor. Good luck out there. You're going to need it," you said, walking out of the room.

"Sorry I took so long... She was so whiny," you apologized, muttering about the girl. They just shrugged as the drive back began.

"Oi, stay the hell away from her," Niragi threatened. Chishiya only laughed. "Why? She's just your friend, no? If I want to talk to her, I can. If I want to hang out with her, I can. If I wanted to get a little overzealous and do more... I can. And if I want to, I will," Chishiya smirked. "And trust me... I will."

Ahahahahahahaha, don't worry, it stays a Niragi×Reader, I just want drama :)

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 10

Hey y'all. Got this chapter written out pretty quickly because I'm super excited for what comes next. There's one more chapter until we get into arc 2 of the fic. At that point, I'll probably take a break from updates until I finish planing out some stuff (probably about two weeks or so). Thank you as always for your comments and Kudos! Also: let me know if you can’t find my fic in the tags. For some reason I have to delete and repost 3 times before it shows up.

Read also on AO3 or see the Masterpost for more chapters!

The room was filled with the cracking of the fire. After her interaction with Coco, she and Gallant had upped the drama tenfold. Em felt like she was back in high-school -- the wanna’-be Abercrombie and Fitch models and America’s Got Talent stars whispering amongst themselves and snickering. You always knew they were talking about you because they wanted you to know they were talking about you, eying you up and down just to make a point.

So Em wandered to Langdon’s office. She had grown up, but it didn’t make the pair’s antics any less annoying. They had taken up the library as a show of power so the brunette had gone to the only place they couldn’t go.

Curled up on the sofa, Em was writing in a journal. Her knees pulled up to her chest and the radio playing lightly in the background, she could almost pretend she was back home on a rainy day.

Langdon was working across from her at his desk, typing away at a laptop he had smuggled inside. Ever so often, she’d look up at him. His eyes were always focused on the task at hand. Dark brows would furrow as he turned away from the screen to check something he had written down in a notebook.

It amused Em. So, he did have work on a higher level, beyond the interviews and selections.

“What’s your opinion in regards to your fellow residents?” Langdon asked out of the blue. It took a moment for his words to process, but after a moment she finally responded, eyes still focused on her notebook.

“With all the lurking you do I suspect you know my opinions.”

“You hate them,” He noted, still typing away at his laptop, “Yet you help them. Why?”

“I reserve my hate for people that matter,” She corrected, “They annoy me.”

“Yet you help them.”

Em sighed and looked up at him, offering a half-hearted shrug, “I’ve always had a problem saying ‘no,’ and Coco isn’t used to hearing it.”

It wasn’t entirely true. She had said those words to him ample times… Venable as well. It meant she deemed Venable as deserving of her anger, but what about Langdon? What did he mean to her to warrant being able to say that one simple word?

He didn’t push it.

“Gallant isn’t too bad,” she noted, “he just wants to be something to someone.”

“What about the Stevens?”

“Is this another interview?”

“Conversation,” He corrected, briefly looking up from his work, “It isn’t as if we can talk about the weather… and I value your opinion.”

She smiled and placed her notebook to the side.

“Andre…” she mused, looking off to the side as she thought, “He’s a wounded animal. Stu and I clicked and we only knew one another for a week at best, but anyone with eyes could see they cared deeply for the other. Besides Timothy and Emily, they were the people I considered myself close to.”

“And Dinah?”

Em’s answer was quick.

“Would do anything for her son, but after the incident we don’t talk much anymore. Andre needs her and considers everyone else an enemy in some shape or form.”

“The incident?”

Her voice was surprisingly matter-of-fact. There was no sign of distress or shame. She was reading from a history book that resided in her own mind.

“Venable fed us a person,” the brunette explained, “of that, there is no doubt. Timothy still has the finger to prove it. Just a bone, but I know a human finger when I see one.”

“Who was it? They said Stu was contaminated.”

Em read him like a book.

“Why do you ask when you already know the answer?”

Langdon ignored her question, only offering a shrug as he continued to work. “How did that make you feel?”

“Different.”

“Different?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He dropped the subject, grabbing a file from his desk and slowly walking over to her as he read it. So, this was just a conversation. The blond would be much more attentive if it were an interview, more calculating.

Stopping at her shoulder, he sat on the arm of the sofa. Em stiffened as his hand absentmindedly grabbed her own as he continued to read. The file was rather thick — too thick to be a file on one of the residents. Unless he had one that contained the contents of Coco’s twitter page. From what she could see there were no pictures, ruling out that theory entirely.

With a frown he set the file on the back of the chair, pulling her hand into his lap and playing with her fingers as he stared into the fire. They trailed over her palms as if the lines across it were a map to whatever he was searching for. Her neck felt hot, red splotches rising up it and onto her cheeks.

“…and I already know your opinions about the other four,” he mused, more a mutter than a statement, “Evie?”

He sensed the look she gave him without turning his head. “Right.”

“Then again I’m biased,” she noted, pulling her hand away before her palms could start sweating. Langdon seemed to realize what he had been doing and quickly straightened. Standing off to the side, he straightened his jacket and returned to his desk.

The blond’s questions brought up introspection on her own end, insecurities and worries rising to the surface. There was an argument to be made about projection. When she looked at Emily and Timothy, she saw people who were like her, like all the friends she left behind. If the pair survived then somehow Em’s friends survived — the ones who worked hard and deserved so much better.

Langdon was watching her. Blue eyes narrowed in on the absent void in her eyes he had seen in the hallway before.

“You look tired,” he noted, pulling her from her thoughts, “trouble sleeping?”

“No,” Em admitted, returning from her trance and sitting up on the couch before she fell asleep. The room was so warm. “I sleep fine… just wake up heavy.”

“Heavy?”

“Like my limbs are made of led,” she explains before waving a dismissive hand, “I just tampered off the last of my medication so it’s probably just withdrawal. Would certainly explain the weird dreams I’ve been having.”

This caught his attention, “What sort of dreams?”

“You really sound like your interviewing me,” she noted.

He smirked, sitting on his desk, “ye of little faith.”

“Now it sounds like an interrogation. We seem to talk about the same things over and over.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he reminded with a chuckle, “remember?”

She merely shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Well?” he prompted, waiting for her to answer his question.

“My mind is what I hold most dear.”

“Some think the mind dies with the body.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I’ve learned threats don’t work on you.”

Em rolled her eyes, much to his amusement, “you can be one of the most annoying people… and I’ve spent the last year with Coco and Gallant.”

“You’re hedging.” Langdon sang, laughing as she held up her hands in defeat. Biting her lip, she tried to stay annoyed. The second she saw his grin, her own began pulling at her lips. He just stared at her. He could have stared at her for hours.

The smile eventually faded as she sighed, relenting to his demands. “I dreamed I was burned alive, but I wasn’t myself… I was someone else. Couldn’t tell you who.”

Langdon stiffened, but only for a moment.

“Do you often have dreams like that?”

“My dreams have always been weird,” She admitted, “side effect of an overactive imagination.”

He nodded and took a seat back in his chair, flipping his laptop back on and waiting for the screen to load. “I imagine confinement in the after-effects of the nuclear apocalypse does little to help.”

Em was quick to change the conversation. Her dreams were something she both took pride in and felt embarrassment from. They inspired her stories, but also made for awkward conversation when anyone asked for the source of said inspiration.

“What are you working on?” The brunette asked.

“Classified,” he replied on instinct, tone telling her something had popped up which required his focus. However, he had made a promise.

“Langdon.”

He looked up and sighed, eyes flickering to her before returning their attention on the task at hand. “My job doesn’t end once the selections are completed. I have to arrange transportation back to the Sanctuary as well as keep tabs on operations on the inside which have taken place in my absence.”

“Sounds like you’re an important person?”

The man smirked at that, “you think they’d let just anyone decide the fate of residents?”

“You know what I think.”

“That I do.”

They lapsed into silence once more. One minute passed… two… twenty. She went back to writing in her notebook and Langdon went back to typing away at his computer.

He would occasionally reference back to files, one hand keeping his place while his other typed. His movements were a soothing white noise that helped her think upon her notes.

Langdon had been right. Em would never fully trust him until she got into the Sanctuary. When that time came, she’d then have to prove her own honesty.

Her morality refused to let her friends die, however. No matter what oath she made. Loopholes… she had to find loopholes. Em couldn’t tell them what she learned or about her deal. Atop all that, she had to give Langdon a wide berth to work.

She didn’t necessarily have to tell them anything. Not if she manipulated them, pushed them in the right direction. It wouldn’t compromise Langdon’s mission. It wasn’t as if she was getting them into the Sanctuary by giving them all the answers. She was just pushing them to find the truth. Timothy and Emily were already on the right path, after all.

Em hoped they found something of weight in the man’s room. Then she could assess the situation properly.

Langdon flipped through his files, trying to find a specific one. Not outwardly marking them was a pain in the ass, but it was a needed secrecy. Something caught his eye and he stopped, flipping back a few pages and looking up at his companion.

“Happy belated birthday,” He said. Em’s nose scrunched in confusion as she looked up from her book. For a moment she seemed to be doing the math in her head. “You were born an exact week before Halloween.”

“When’s Halloween?”

“In two days.”

She hadn’t even noticed. It wasn’t as if there was anything to look forward to. If she was being honest, she had forgotten what day it was. The hours seemed to blend together the longer she stayed in the outpost.

“Halloween was the theme of many birthday parties,” she said with a smile, trying not to look too disappointed, “explains a lot, if I’m being honest.”

“Such as?”

“Fascination with the macabre and occultism,” she admitted, “all those… weird things.”

“I don’t find it weird at all,” he reassured, “how old are you now?”

“23.” She said, the pair lapsing into silence before she spoke again, “when is your birthday?”

“March fifth,” he answered.

She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling as she thought before letting out a frustrated sigh. “I was going to try and guess your zodiac. That’s how people flirt, isn’t it?”

“It was also the trademark of the Zodiac killer.”

“Well… shit.”

He laughed, shoulders shaking as he wandered back towards the couch.

“Pisces,” he said, plopping down opposite of her.

“That means you’re… that’s the fish one, right?”

His cheeks hurt, “you’re terrible at this.”

“I don’t exactly have the Sunday paper to reference.”

“Are you trying to tell my future now?”

She rolled her eyes and swatted him with her book. He watched red crawl up her neck and to her cheeks as he continued to chuckle at her antics.

“Okay, fine,” Em relented, “another topic then — what do you miss most about the old world?”

“You’re filled with questions today,” he noted, trying to hide his amusement but unable to rid the smile that took up his entire face.

“I’m tired of having one-sided conversations,” the brunette corrected. She tried to look stern, but failed miserably. “Believe it or not I don’t actually like talking about myself as much as I have.”

Langdon rose an incredulous brow, “oh?”

“Okay,” she admitted, “maybe a little, but who doesn’t?”

He laughed and she smiled. God, it had been so long since he had laughed.

“What do you miss?” the blond countered, chuckling as she sent him a scathing look.

“Did you not hear a word I just said?”

Rolling his eyes with as much dramatics as he could muster, he finally gave her an answer.

“There are many things I miss about the old world, but things must be sacrificed for the new one.”

“I’ll hit you. I really will.” She snipped, “that’s not an answer.”

Em knew with one look that he was doing this on purpose. His smile was shit-eating and smug. The game of cat and mouse continuing.

“Yes, it is.”

“For a politician, maybe.” She said, staring at him silently until he gave her the answer she wanted. He had to think long and hard. Langdon hadn’t lied — he missed a great deal of things. But what did he miss the most?

“The freedom,” he decided with a nod of his head before gesturing to the rest of the room, “dress these places up as much as you want, but they’re still cages.”

“And the sanctuary is different?”

“No,” he admits, “but it’s certainly larger.”

“By how much?”

All he gave her was a smirk, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Will I?”

He just stared at her and she stared in return. Both of them were trying to read something from the other as if there was some sign that they were telling the truth.

Em didn’t know what to feel. There was a fascination she felt when she looked at him. When she spoke, she felt a familiarity, their conversations were so easy and natural. She would see the twitch of his lips as he read or the way he crossed his legs and it felt like she sat there a hundred times before. Part of her wanted to see it a hundred times more.

Landon’s brows furrowed and sat up a bit.

“You’re crying,” he noted.

Confused, Em placed a hand on her cheek. When she pulled back it was wet. Her brows furrowed as well. Why was she crying?

“Odd,” she muttered, “allergies, possibly.”

“There’s nothing living here.”

“There’s dust,” Em noted, chuckling a bit, “lots of it.”

They weren’t stopping, her eyes watering over and over again. Langdon found himself reaching forward to wipe them away. Why did he have to get so close to her? She’d bump noses with him if she leaned towards him even half an inch.

“I have a few more interviews to conduct,” He noted, pulling away quickly and rising to his feet, “I hope to speak with you soon.”

“Yeah,” she noted, swiping at her eyes and grabbing her notebook, “same time tomorrow?”

He smiled and shook his head, “would I be able to stop you?”

“Probably not.”

Carefully closing the door behind her, Em both ways before making her way back to her room. God, the tears weren’t stopping. It was more annoying than anything. She could hardly see.

Turning the corner, a force slammed into her shoulder. The brunette stumbled back slightly before hands centered her once more.

“Hey,” the familiar voice of Emily chuckled. Then she noticed her tears, “What’s wrong?”

“Allergies,” Em said, scrunching her nose and fanning at her face, “god, they haven’t been this bad in years. I feel like I’m chopping a fucking onion.”

Emily could only laugh, stepping back and pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully she dabbed at her friend's eyes. “Here.”

“Ugh,” Em groaned, gently taking the piece of fabric from her friend’s hand, “maybe it’s a hair. Can you see anything?”

Em turned her head up and did her best to keep her eyes open. Emily shook her head.

“Nothing.”

With a sigh, Em went back to dabbing the tears away and started to move down the hall, “maybe it’s a stray hair. I’ll meet with you and Timothy later, okay? Need to get whatever it is out of my eye.”

Emily could only step back and let her friend pass.

“We’ll be in the library!” She called after Em. The only sign the woman heard her being a thumbs up thrown up above her head before she turned another corner.

There was something going on with that girl. Emily could feel it in her gut. She just didn’t know what.

***

“What did you find?” Emily asked her as soon as she entered the library, barely giving the brunette enough time to take a seat.

Em looked around the room, ensuring the three musketeers were the only people in the room. Timothy leaned on the other side of the table. Emily was pacing behind him as always.

“Nothing,” she said, her heart twisting as she blatantly lied.

Timothy scratched at his head, cheeks puffing out before she let out a long breath. He glanced at Emily who paused her pacing, lips pursed as she held back her disappointment.

“Nothing?” She echoed.

“He’s like a shadow,” Em said, turning sideways in her chair to face them properly, “always lurking somewhere. Was barely in there ten minutes before he showed up.”

Dragging his hands down his face, Timothy punched his brow and flexed his jaw. God, he was not made for this kind of work. He wanted to be an engineer, not a spy.

“We should stop while we’re ahead,” he said, glancing between the two women.

Emily gave him a look somewhere between shock and anger. “Don’t you want to know the truth?”

“He could kill us for this,” Timothy hissed, “leave us for the cannibals. Don’t you remember what he said?”

His girlfriend rolled her eyes, “I have ears, Timothy.”

The man shook his head, tapping his knuckles against the table and avoiding her gaze. Em watched their interaction. She wasn’t about to get in the middle of a lover’s spat.

“Is the truth really worth it?”

Emily’s response was immediate, “Always!”

Timothy sighed, “look, why don’t we wait till after the selections to find the truth. That way we don’t die.”

“And be trapped in another cage?"

“He has a point,” Em noted, the ebony-haired woman turning on her heels to face her. Emily felt betrayed, face contorting with anger.

“If you two want to die in your ignorance so be it!” she hissed before storming out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Timothy was staring at the floor, hand going up to scratch at his head and then rub at his neck. It didn’t take a genius to see he was conflicted.

“She’ll cool off,” Em reassured.

“I know.”

“She has a point.”

He turned to look at her in disbelief, “I thought you—”

“You both have points. Good points.”

“But which one is best — being screwed over now or later?”

Em shrugged, “depends.”

“On what?”

She sighed, taking a moment to articulate her thoughts, “I can’t answer that for you… you have to fill in the blanks yourself.”

Timothy could only nod. Such seemed to be the consensus. If only the waters weren’t so murky.

“What did y’all find?” Em finally asked.

“Venable has been making her own rules,” Timothy noted, “… abstinence and all that.”

“And that’s what Langdon’s focused on?”

“He has a laptop,” Timothy explained, “There were lots of emails between himself and the Cooperative. Emily thinks he has a satellite hook-up or something.”

“What kind of emails?”

Timothy shrugged, “general updates. Last outpost had extremely depleted resources, surrogate tests were failing, status updates…”

“… and?” Em pressed, knowing there was more.

“He plans to execute Gallant and Venable,” Timothy said. His eyes flickered as if he were reading the email to her. “there are two promising candidates so far that he’s considering taking to the Sanctuary.”

Em let out a breath of relief. So, Langdon had been listening to her. She nodded for a moment, thoughts spinning.

“Go to Emily,” she said.

“What?”

“Apologize,” she says, rising from her seat and starting towards the door, “you have to work together to find out more.”

Timothy gaped for a second, pushing off the table as he watched her leave.

“What about you?” he finally spoke.

“I’m the distraction, remember?”

The boy could only stand there as the door closed behind her; brows furrowed. God, why did she always have to be so… cryptic? Scratching at the back of his head, Timothy paced back and forth for a moment.

The creaking of the door caught his attention once more. Freezing mid-step, he rose his gaze to stare at the new arrival. Emily was peeking her head in, looking for any sign of Em before walking back inside.

“What did she say?”

Timothy let his hand drop to her side, “That we need to work together.”

“Did you tell her about the emails?”

“Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Timothy replied, “but she’s always examined our findings before saying a word… even to us.”

Emily sighed, reaching out for his hands which he carefully placed in her own. She stared at them as her fingers smoothed over his knuckles and traced circles on the back of his hands.

“She’s hiding something,” she said, biting her lips and eyes welling with concern, “Langdon must have done something to her.”

“Or maybe she didn’t find anything,” Timothy reminded, “She’s honest to a fault… a really, really big fault.”

A small smile graced Emily’s lips. It was quickly gone, replaced by an expression of determination. Finally, she looked up at him.

“We need to investigate on our own.”

Timothy opened his mouth, but she quickly cut him off, “without Em. He can’t silence all of us.”

***

“Who deserves a shot at salvation?” Langdon’s questioned, voice booming across the room as he strode to his desk with a bounce in his step. Venable stood by the fire, back straight and lips pressed into a thin line. The woman was like a statue. Then again, the Greys had come to call her the ‘iron woman’ for a reason. Even iron rusted.

He eyed his files, hands hovering over the names of Purples. He knew exactly how Venable viewed them, the rage she felt at their presence.

“Let’s start with… Coco St. Pierre Vanderbuilt.”

Settling in his chair, Langdon placed a hand on either side of the desk, keeping his posture open. Body language was a key part of communication. It was processed so subconsciously one didn’t know they were telling a story with their whole bodies. He needed Venable to feel like she was in charge. Give her the power and then yank it out from under her feet.

Venable scoffed before her eyes narrowed on him, “The Vanderbuilt girl is a vacuous abomination of inbreeding. She’d be my last choice to propagate the human race.”

Langdon simply stared at her and she continued on with her rambling. Each insult pulling her spine straighter and straighter, giving her a pathetic illusion of power.

“The hairdresser is a cowardly homosexual. His grandmother is a festering pustule who just will… not… die.” She ranted, eyes alighting with a fire of superiority and a satisfied smirk crawling onto her face. Recognizing her own hubris, she pulled back and tapped her cane quietly. “And the talk show host…”

The woman balked at that one, glancing at her feet as she searched for something to say.

“Well, actually,” she admitted, “I don’t know that much about that one.”

“And Emily?”

When he looked upon Wilhemina Venable he did not see a leader. He didn’t even see a person. All he could see was the woman who had tried to hit Em, the fear in her eyes when the brunette refused to cower. Langdon had no pity for those who abuse their power.

“I’m surprised we haven’t run out of oxygen with all her preaching,” Venable scoffed, “She’s an ungrateful brat that’s never satisfied. A mangy mutt that thinks she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Langdon showed no reaction to her words. His face was an iron mask that, unlike Venable, he knew how to regulate.

“Mutts can still bite.”

The woman chuckled, clearly amused, “all she knows how to do is bark. She lacks the backbone needed to carry out anything of substance.”

Langdon offered a mocking smile that Venable quickly mistook for validation. Her eyes glimmered with the satisfaction of a queen on her throne.

“At this rate, you and I will have the Sanctuary all to ourselves.” He noted. The woman made no move to react or acknowledge his statement.

“Come,” he sighed, rising from his desk once more and rounding it to stand at her side, “There’s no need for us to be adversaries, Ms. Venable.”

The woman seemed to consider his proposition, chin rising ever slightly to look into his eyes. They were so blue it was easy to see why many residents were mesmerized by them. There was an… attraction to the man, a magnetic quality. Perhaps a man she could tolerate. A man Venable could use to get out of this hell hole to rise to a position more suitable to her skills.

Langdon allowed her to stare for a long moment. He stood close to the woman, but not close enough. She would have to make the move… at which point he would land the final blow.

“Take off your dress,” he ordered, tone and words off enough to make Venable falter. Her eyes widened in surprise as she processed his request, but made no move to put distance between herself and Langdon.

“I will not,” she gaped, incredulous and chuckling as if he were telling her a horrible joke.

Langdon’s face remained as it was.

“Part of your cooperation includes a physical examination,” he reminded.

Venable, like Em, knew exactly what a physical examination required. She kept her eyes on the man, refusing to give him any more ground than he had already conquered. “You can read my file.”

The blond’s head quirked to the side as he assessed the woman before him, “Your file won’t show me what I need to see… your shame.”

Venable’s confident smirk disappeared and his own quickly formed. It was as if he was sucking the power from her and fueling himself. Slowly, he began to circle with his hands behind his back, a vulture around a wounded and slowly dying animal.

“I want to see that part of you that humiliates you the most.”

His hand trailed up her arm and over her shoulder where it came to rest by her neck, touch light as a feather. Her hand sank into his like a claw before it could reach the zipper just a breath away from his fingers. He placed another hand on her other shoulder, caging her in place and leaning in so his breath fanned her ear.

“You won’t get a second chance.”

Venable’s breath made her chest rise and fall, panic rising from her belly and into her chest. She stared at the ground, weighing her options before she finally retracted her claws.

Langdon’s hand trailed to her back, slowly pulling down the zipper of her dress to reveal a twisted spine, the flesh around it a deep bruised purple.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, hands trailing down her spine.

Venable spoke with all the conviction she could muster. She focused her eyes on the wall and willed her tears to return back into her eyes, “no.”

She felt his face come closer to her cheek, voiced hushed as he spoke, “Does it bring you great pain.”

It took Venable a moment to gather the breath to even formulate a response, shoulders shuttering. A single tear fell down her cheek, the shame too much to bear.”

“Yes.”

Slowly, she turned her head towards him. His nose was almost close enough to brush her own and she tilted her head as if she hoped he’d kiss her.

“Is this part of my test?” the red-haired woman asked, eyes staring into his with a vulnerability she hadn’t show in years.

He shook his head, moving slightly towards her, “isn’t everything?”

“So then,” she said, eyes flickering to his lips, “Do I pass?”

Langdon leaned forward, her eyes closing in expectation as his nose brushed her own. His breath and the expectation of his lips made her heart hammer in her chest.

Then it was gone, a wicked smile forming before her eyes on the man. She felt the humiliation before he had even said a word. More tears trailed down her cheeks.

Revenge certainly was sweet.

“No.”

***

Em sat in the salon, Coco on the couch opposite her. The blond was posed, resting her elbow atop the back of the chair and her head upon her dangling hand. It was an Instagram-worthy pose. One Em was supposed to be capturing… instead, she was drawing Langdon from memory. She was merely using Coco as a reference to draw the couch he was leaned back on, legs crossed and eyes on his file.

“Are you almost done?” Coco snipped, “my elbow is cramping.

To her credit, she had drawn Coco. She just hadn’t told the woman she had finished.

“Do you want it done right?” Em asked. There was no hard in torturing the woman just a little longer. For once the salon was quiet. Coco was deep in thought about something, a rare occurence.

“My family was supposed to be here,” Coco said, breaking the brief respite with her quiet words, “My dad purchased the tickets.

Em glanced up at her before her eyes returned to her drawing. She was unsure of what Coco wanted from her. “So you've said.”

Green eyes flickered back to the blonde as she shifted uncomfortably. Halting in her ministrations, Em watched her for a moment. It was like a sudden ripple in the water, something either falling below or coming towards the surface.

Coco’s eyes flickered to the fire. She remembered being a tiny tot having lavish bonfires with her family in flannel shirts that cost more than a small New York apartment. Her little brother would be such a menace, chasing her around with dirt-covered hands or a worm dangling off a stick. She’d scream but always found herself laughing when he’d toss it at her. He always had the worst aim. Their father had to bribe the high-school baseball team into letting the boy play.

The woman turned in her seat, Em closing her sketchbook to give Coco her attention. The blonde sunk in her seat. Her lips twisted and eyes focusing on the empty spot in front of her, furrowed brows darkening her expression.

Finally, she looked to Em, scooting towards her and crossing her legs on the couch. “You’re one of those… smart people, right? Do you think they suffered?”

“I—” Em was blindsided by the question, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

Coco was quick to press the subject, “They were in Hong Kong — right by the first blast.”

The woman’s eyes were so desperate Em couldn’t even formulate a thought. What was she supposed to say? What was the truth? Was it better to tell her a lie or the harsh reality?

“Coco, I—”

“Did they?”

Jaw tensing, Em took in her eyes welling with unshed tears and her hands which tightly gripped at her arm. This wasn’t something the woman wanted, but something she needed. They were all facing death and with it their own guilt and regrets.

“They would have been… incinerated in a matter of seconds,” she found herself saying. Em's voice was slow and even in an attempt to keep it from trembling. Her hands reached to squeeze Coco’s as if her touch was a soothing balm to the wounds they were reopening. “If they did feel any pain it would have been like a paper cut— sharp and then… nothing.”

Coco nodded, chest rising and falling as she tried to keep panic from rising. Trembling lips formed an uneven smile as she looked up at Em. The action shocked the brunette. It was a part of Coco she had never seen, a part of Coco she empathized with.

“Thank you,” Coco whispered, squeezing the other woman’s hands. Em was too shocked to move. She was still processing the situation, her own words and the meaning behind them, the weight they held.

Coco fanned at her eyes, tilting her head back.

“Oh,” she whined, “I can’t cry… I only brought enough eyeliner to last me a year. Mallory!”

She was gone before Em could even realize. The brunette’s brows were furrowed as she stared at the floor, confused and… sad — so, so sad. The kind of sadness that hit you like a punch to the gut, strong enough to make you double over.

Her own breath became labored as the voices once again welled in her head. They screamed and begged for life, just one more moment to apologize for their wrongs… to make right arguments that turned into their last words. A million hands gripped on to her, dragging her into the black and gaping void. She could feel their fingers digging into her skin, bruises rising to the surface.

Em jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, squeezing it and pulling her out of the river Styx. She wiped her face of tears and turned to the man she hadn’t even heard approaching.

Langdon was blatantly concerned, kneeling beside her and holding her hands. It centered her somewhat, kept her from drowning.

“Why do you cry?” He asked, voice quiet and gentle.

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shake of her head. Suddenly, she stood, Langdon mirroring her actions. Green eyes looked everywhere but at him and her hands slipped from his grip. “Excuse me.”

His hand shot out; grip strong enough to stop her from turning away. It loosened, and he let his hand drop to his side as he willed her to look at him.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yet I feel guilty all the same.”

Langdon shook his head and took a step towards her, hand hovering over her back as his body curled around her front. “You couldn’t have saved them.”

Em’s hands curled into fists at her side. She remembered her brother, her nieces, her nephews — all too young to die. Taking a step away from him, she finally spoke. “I could have made sure they didn’t die alone.”

Langdon loosened his grip, allowed her to walk away. His eyes didn’t leave her as she left the room, palms swiping at her cheeks as she made her way down the hall.

That was the difference between them — Venable and Em. The former played at caring but used it as a weapon. The red-haired woman was a Puritan preacher, rising the heat on who she perceived as sinners. She didn’t really care about what she preached. It only served to keep those around her in line.

Em, however… Em cared. She cared even when she didn’t want to, when she wanted to be annoyed. Satan did not hate the humans just because they were mortal, flawed. Lucifer was once an angel, after all. An angel dedicated to justice against the sinners.

***

The salon was a place none of them could stay away from for long. It was like the living room of your house, a place you always wandered to when you didn’t know what to do.

Em didn’t like looking weak. She had already cried in front of Langdon more times than she had cried in front of her own mother. Perhaps it meant she was comfortable with him. The thought of anyone seeing her with snot running out of her nose and eyes puffy and red was still humiliating.

Much to her surprise, Gallant was in the salon. His eyes were dead as he stared into the distance, his usual shades missing to reveal the face of a man who had lost everything.

She had heard about what happened, the torture brought to him by his own grandmother’s hands. Coco wasn’t exactly good at keeping things quiet.

“I don’t want to talk,” Gallant grumbled, sensing her presence.

“I didn’t come to talk.”

Gallant turned to look at her over the back of the couch. He had expected Coco. Somehow this was even worse. The hairdresser wanted to hate her, but he knew it was Langdon he was really angry at.

“Here to gloat?” he asked, slumping back into his seat and picking up a glass which had fallen to the side. He picked it up, closed one eye to stare at the bottom, and then downed the rest of the water.

“You aren’t the best man in the world, but you certainly aren’t the worst,” Em said as she took a seat opposite him. She left a cushion length between him and herself. “But there’s no sin in that.”

Gallant glowered at her and scoffed, “great pep-talk. You and Dinah should be co-hosts.”

Em watched as he stared at his glass once more and frowned, letting his hand drop to his side once more. Gallant may be pouting like a child, but it wasn’t without reason.

“Do you want some water?” she asked and he numbly nodded his head. She rose from her seat and brought over the pitcher, sitting closer to him to take the glass from his hands. The man was nearly catatonic like a sad drunk. With a sigh, she placed the pitcher on the coffee table and the glass back in his hands.

“You’re not disgusting Gallant,” She assured, squeezing his hands around the glass, “a bit arrogant, perhaps, but not disgusting.”

After a moment she pulled away. “And it’s okay to mourn what could have been.”

The man stayed silent, sparing a few fleeting glances in her direction. He reminded her of a lost puppy. A petulant one — the kind that would tear up your shoes and your house until you came home. Somehow, they were endearing despite the annoyance they brought.

Gallant sat still for a moment before leaning on her shoulder. Tears began to flow freely from his eyes and he curled into her like a lost child. Slowly, her arms curled around him and she held him to her chest.

“Welcome to the shitty family club,” She jested once he had finally calmed himself down. The man shook his head and chuckled through tears, using the corner of his dress shirt to clear away his tears and snot.

“You tell anyone and I’ll kill you,” he said, a smile forming on Em despite her previous feelings towards the man. She half expected him to run off as Coco had, use her for the therapy and then go back to his day.

“Twenty questions?” he asked, grabbing the pitcher and pouring himself and Em a glass. He held it out expectantly and she slowly took it from his hands.

“With no drinks?”

“Don’t remind me.”

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Ghost Kid Chapter Ten: Repairs

Hat Kid was getting close to finishing her attempt at repairing the ship. She wouldn’t know if it was successful until she finished and turned it on. Once on, its self-diagnostics systems would tell her if the ship could fly and if so, how well.

It was nerve-wracking being so close to an answer on whether or not she was stuck here or if she’d have to truly start to consider how people back home might react to her new form. Despite that she buckled down on it, taking breaks only to read her book in lieu of sleeping.

The Subcon history book was dense and thick, lasting her far longer than any of the fairytale books had. The images of Subcon before it had been cursed were the most interesting. It was just a normal small kingdom surrounded by normal woods. It seemed to be a peaceful place, a few wars had been fought over it but not many and none of them particularly bad, all ending in peace treaties. It was actually kind of boring, not what Hat Kid had been expecting at all. It kept her busy when not working on her ship so she kept reading, hoping for more interesting stuff to pop up deeper in the book.

But eventually she reached a point where she finally, at long last had done everything she possibly could to repair her ship with what resources she had. She’d had to cut a few corners but in theory it might work. Only one way to find out.

The ship fired up just fine. Maybe it took a few seconds longer than normal but that might’ve just been her anticipation making it seem longer. She sat at the command desk… where her body had been and thus where she’d died! … Nope, she wasn’t thinking about that right now even if she just realized she’d been avoiding this spot until now. But she had no choice, it was the ship’s command desk.

She quickly punched in some commands, starting the ship’s self-diagnostics. It took it a few minutes but the overall result came up yellow. More info revealed that it was functional but being careful was advised, especially when warp jumping. The computer also advised going home for immediate proper repair. But that was possible, according the computer which was rarely wrong, the ship could safely make it all the way back home. Meaning despite all odds she’d done it, she’d gotten her ship space worthy again. All she had to do now was fix the window and she was free to go home whenever she pleased because she already had all the Time Pieces back – she’d only been sticking around to do the Death Wish contracts.

It almost didn’t feel real. How long had she been working on this? Weeks and weeks for sure, months even. And now it was basically done. But… did she still even want to go home?

Would she be accepted back as a ghost? Would returning dead count as having failed the final test? If so, they’d want take her ship away. Did she want to risk that with how strict the Headmaster was? Her ship meant everything to her, losing it or giving it up was out of the question, it was hers. But… she’d worked so hard to go back home, both before and after her death. And it was home she couldn’t just abandon home without even trying even if it meant risking her ship, could she?

With a sigh, she exited through the broken window, floating down to the forest floor. If only she could take a nap, get away from thinking about this decision for a while. She could read, that helped a lot but… she wasn’t in the mood to slog through more the history book right now.

Instead, she went for a wander. Getting away from the ship and just looking around the forest was nice, especially now that there weren’t any hazards to her. Eventually she inevitably ended up looking for Snatcher. It had been a while since she’d talked to him, days in fact. She found him in his favourite reading spot in the giant hollow.

“Snatcher,” she said in way of greeting as she floated in.

“Hmm… hello,” he replied, not looking up from his book.

“Um… I finished repairing my ship.” That got him to lower his book and look at her. “All I need to do now is fix the window and I can go home.”

“That’s great news,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll finally be rid of you. I can’t wait.”

“Yeah, but…” Hat Kid lifted a hand to rub the back her neck, far too used to the feel of her own ghostly form now. “I don’t know if I want to go to back home.”

Snatcher’s eyes narrowed as he actually closed his book now. “Why not?”

“I uh… don’t know if… they’d let me back like this. They might… count my death as a failure and… take away my ship.” And without that, what was the point? She had no family, a friend yes, but… would Bow want her back like this?

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The school. I didn’t teach myself how to fly and repair a space ship, you know, someone had to teach me.”

“Honestly kid, if you told me you did, I might actually believe you.” Oh! A compliment, that was unlike him. Exciting stuff. But before she could call him on it, he continued. “But why are they teaching children that stuff in the first place?”

Should Hat Kid answer this? She’d been told not to say anything about her home planet to any intelligent life she discovered. … He was her BFF though so it was probably fine, especially since he wasn’t likely to be able to do anything with the info even if he wanted to. Besides, the rule had been about intelligent life and Snatcher was not alive so telling him was technically not breaking the rules. So…

“Well,” she said, “most of the kids aren’t given a real ship to fly until they’re a bit older. I’m what they call a ‘prodigy’ though, meaning I’m like real smart or something. I went through the classes super-fast so I would be allowed to fly a spaceship.” Once she’d learned that that was on the table, she’d been determined to do it no matter what it took. “Some of the teachers complained about how fast I was elevated because like a lot of the pilot tests and training things are super dangerous and people get hurt during them. They quickly stopped caring though after I aced the first one.” And she’d never cared, danger was fun and more than worth dealing with if it meant she got to fly her ship.

Snatcher frowned. “That sounds like a major lawsuit waiting to happen. They’re going to get sued into the ground sometime soon, the fact that they haven’t been already is a miracle.”

Hat Kid shrugged; she didn’t know much about that kind of thing. “I don’t know if they can be.” She didn’t really care either. “I’m pretty sure they’re heavily backed by the government or some big important organization that wants more trained pilots for their space fleet. They’re into ‘exploring outer space and expanding their galactic influence’ which I’m pretty sure means they’re into conquering weaker planets and expanding their space empire.”

Now Snatcher actually looked offended. It was comical. “That’s even worse kid. What the peck is wrong with your home planet?”

“I don’t know.” Hat Kid hadn’t thought anything was strange about it, though she had grown up with it so maybe he was right? She didn’t care though, she just wanted to fly her space ship. But…  “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t.” Lies, he put on a calm demeanor now that didn’t change how openly offended he’d just been. “I’m just saying, a school training children and other young people to be part of basically their army is amoral. I have no doubt there’s a lot of brainwashing going on there. The fact that their training is dangerous makes it even worse, especially since they let literal children take part in it.”

“What about all your contracts? You forced me to work for you, doing some pretty dangerous things. And the Death Wish contracts are super-duper dangerous, I almost died doing them more times than I can count. So, aren’t you just as bad as they are?”

“That’s different.” Snatcher made a dismissive gesture. “I’m not in charge of your wellbeing. People who take on the responsibility of raising and teaching children should at least try to raise them well.”

“So, what you’re saying is if you adopted a kid, you’d be a good parent?” Hat Kid would like to see that. She couldn’t even imagine Snatcher trying to be good, it’d be hilarious.

“Oh uh… I guess I’d try to be.” Snatcher shrugged, examining his nonexistent nails. “I’m not going to adopt any children though. I hate kids, they’re the worst. There’s one in particular that won’t stop bothering me, she’s without a doubt the single most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

Hat Kid couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You’re old so you must’ve met a lot of people, the fact that I’m the most annoying one is impressive.”

“I’m not old.” Despite his contrary words, his expression and tone were closer to being soft than he probably intended. “Or well… maybe I am old in a way. Nothing wrong with being old though. And it wasn’t a compliment, it was an insult. Being annoying is a bad thing kid, it makes people not like you.”

“Well, you seem to like me plenty despite that so I’m not too worried.”

Snatcher scoffed. “In your dreams kid.” He could say that all he wanted but she knew the truth, this conversation confirmed it. But speaking of that, the thing she’d come here to discuss with him wasn’t resolved, they’d got sidetracked.

“But uh… anyway,” she said. “I was tasked with visiting three planets to gather data and stuff, this one wasn’t really planned, as a final test. I was supposed to fly back home and graduate and the ship would officially be mine.” It already was hers as far as she was concerned. “But… since I died, they might view it as a failure and take away my ship. I… would rather not return if that’s what they’re going to do.”

“How likely is it that they’ll take your ship?”

“Uh… I don’t know but… I fear it’s high.” Was she just being paranoid though? Or was she judging them accurately? “And I don’t know much about ghosts on my home planet but… I know there are ghost hunters who hunt them. I don’t know what they do with them once they catch them though.” There was a very real possibility she’d find out if she went back. “So… I don’t know if I should go home but I’ve worked so hard to go back and it’s still home so… I’m not sure what I should do.”

“Hmmm… sounds like you’re in a bit of pickle.”

“Yeah, can you uh… help me? Give me advice or something? I know you probably don’t have any experience in this kind of thing but… I don’t know what to do.”

Snatcher was silent for a few seconds before replying. “Depending on the exact laws of your planet, you might be able to make a legal case for keeping your ship and graduating. You’re a child without a legal guardian though so that complicates things a bit on top of the fact that the school itself is already unethical so they wouldn’t play fair and they’d be able to get away with it because they have a lot of money and a powerful backer. And you’re a ghost, if they’re the kind who want to eradicate ghosts, then you’re probably screwed if you return. So, I would say, if you comfortable taking the risk, then go for it, otherwise, cut your losses and find a new home. You already said you don’t have any parents and the way you spoke about it suggested you don’t have any family either so there’s really nothing keeping you from not returning.” His tone suggested he thought that was the right course of action.

“Uh… okay. I need to think about it some more than I guess.” But really… she’d already decided, hadn’t she? She’d just wanted someone to tell her that that was the right choice or at least an okay choice to make. And she needed one more thing… “If I do decide not to go back though can I… stay here?” Because where else would she go? She was a ghost, a haunted forest full of other ghosts would be the most logical place for her to call her new home. With a bit of work – and probably with Snatcher’s help if he was willing – she could get a docking bay for her ship in the forest so she could take off and land at will. She could take her ship to the nearest spaceport to repair it fully before returning and then from then on this would be her home base. Assuming of course that Snatcher was okay with her staying indefinitely.

Snatcher opened his mouth as if to answer but grimaced instead. “Uh… you know what, fine,” he finally said, relaxing back into his chair. “Since you died, you’ve been less of a bother anyway, so I guess you can stay, provided you continue to stay out of my way.”

“All right, I can do that. Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go figure out what you want to do.” He made a shooing gesture towards her. “And then tell me so I know if I should expect you to stick around or not.” He picked up his book again, opening it and already ignoring her again.

Previous / Next

[acrcsstheuniversee]

Good Enough For Me

Pairing: Paul McCartney circa 1962 x John Lennon circa 1978 (McLennon)

Rating: Mature, readers 18+

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of porn and sex work

Words in this chapter: 1800+

Author’s Note:

Here it is! Refer to my summary and introduction post if you haven’t done so for more disclaimers, visuals, tag list info, and more.

*Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles. This is fiction and written for leisure. Aspects of the story will not be historically accurate and should not be taken extremely seriously.

Chapter 1

Already a month into the semester, Paul found himself struggling to keep up with his studies. He tried his best to focus on typing an essay on the history of guitars that’s due the next day by 10 a.m. but just couldn’t get himself to do it. Not like it was hard or anything; he just hated doing what he’s told, especially if it was something he didn’t care about. He just wanted to do music but having a degree is a necessity now.

He pressed the home button on his cracked phone screen to see that it was already midnight. He was only half way done with the assignment that could’ve taken him only 30 minutes if he wasn’t writing songs in between paragraphs.

It was all too much anyways. American universities have much more homework assignments than back in England. Times like these made him question whether or not going out of the country for school was worth it. There almost seemed like there were more cons than pros in his decision. He lacked resources, he didn’t have any friends or family here except his roommate/best friend George, he was poorer than ever, and must work and attend school part-time. If he stayed in Liverpool and just continued school locally, he probably would’ve earned his degree by now; but now he’s what Americans consider a “super senior” because he’s 21 years old with the amount of classes completed equivalent to a third year student. Despite the struggle, all of it was better than his father dictating his every move. 

He shut his laptop, giving up on the assignment and leaned back into his desk chair, rubbing his tired droopy eyes.

He had two classes and work tomorrow. The thought of them made him roll his eyes. Music history from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m., a business class he couldn’t remember the name of from 1 p.m. to 2 p.m., and work right after at a restaurant nearby as a dishwasher, and occasionally performer if the artist they booked cancelled that night.

He yawned as he got up and slide into his bed. Before shutting his eyes, he turned his head and looked directly across the tiny dorm room to his right to see his childhood best friend and roommate, George Harrison sound asleep.

Paul really needs to take a note out of George’s book and sleep earlier. These late nights are just stressing him out more and more.

***

“Paul….. PAUL! Get up!”

Paul jolted up right when a sudden raised voice rang in his ear. His eyes met George’s signature judgemental look. One of his thick brows cocked and his lips curved awkwardly. He was already ready to go to class.

“Ah, what time is it?”

“9:30. I woke you up 30 minutes before hand because I just know you aren’t going to get up to the 9:45 alarm unless you expect to make it to your first class in 15 minutes,” George teased.

George is a pain in the ass and a know-it-all, but Paul loved him dearly. He comes off mean sometimes but Paul knows it’s just because he’s younger and feels the need to prove himself. Paul was used to it after all this time but sometimes, that boy needs to know when his criticisms cross the line. Despite being a dick sometimes, they’re both grateful to be going to the same college together. It was one in a million chances for George to land the same US college as Paul just a year after Paul’s acceptance.

“Okay, whatever. You have a point, I guess.” Paul groaned and rolled out of bed. 

“I know I do, ha. I’ll see you later.” George messed up his friend’s darkhair more than it already was, making Paul swat his hand away.

When George left, Paul finally got ready and headed off to class with his incomplete essay.

Everyone was already seated and the professor was setting up today’s powerpoint lecture when he finally arrived. Paul sat down in the back where he’s been since the beginning of the semester. It hasn’t been a problem until a girl started to sit near him everyday since last week. When group or partnered work was assigned, she would often ask him to join her. She was kind, but Paul knew she liked him. She couldn’t make it less obvious. They would make small talk here and there---just about classes and hobbies. She was also very good at piano just as Paul was, but not too good on guitar though she claims to be.

He felt her looking at him, making him turn his head to find out he was right. She just smiled and waved. Paul nodded and gave her a small smile in return, trying not to show too much emotion, afraid she would like that too much. She already had the wrong idea but he didn’t want to be mean about it. Paul was not interested in the slightest and, he was gay. Found that out in high school and hasn’t been too shy about it since then. 

When class ended, Paul left immediately to his second class to avoid conversation with anyone. This next one was business related which is something he also could care less about. He was a bit behind in this one too, but this time, he truly didn’t understand the material. He definitely needed a tutor soon.

Not much happened other than him writing mini poems all over his in-class assignment. He didn’t even bother erasing any of it before turning it in at the end of class.

Paul sighed as he made himself to his busboy job right off campus. Before stepping inside, he felt his phone vibrate. It was his dad. Ugh, he thought but answered.

“I’m about to go into work, Dad. What is it?”

“Well, hello to you too. I was just wondering how the first month in the states have been. I haven’t heard from you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine? Have you got a chance to tour places? You should send me photos.”

“No and no. I don’t want you to be sending the pictures to your friends as if you helped me get here. I know you do that.”

Paul heard his father sigh.

“Just text me when you get home and tell George I said hi.”

“Okay, bye.” Paul said before hanging up and walking into his shift.

It seemed harsh but his dad was a selfish prick. He loves to be in control of everything. He was the reason Paul came to the states to study. All he wanted was to ride the wave of success his two sons have been achieving.

In all truthfulness, Paul stopped believing his dad’s bullshit after mom died about 6 years ago. His dad seemed to have lost his way but Paul couldn’t be around all the time if he had a dream to follow. It’s been rough without his mom around but Paul had to do what he was right for him, even if that meant getting away from his dad which is something even she would’ve supported.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how irritating school and his dad were during his shift. The rude coworkers and customers didn’t help his case at all. This wasn’t new though. Paul was used to working constantly in some shape or form. The only problem this time is that he needed more money now that he’s completely independent from his father.

“Hey, busboy!” his boss called out to the dishroom from the back office. Paul rolled his eyes and went to see what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“I have to cut your hours in half. Here is your new schedule. You’re off now, so don’t wash another dish.”

“In half?” Paul took the schedule and saw that his income now would not suffice his monthly tuition payments, let alone some money for necessities. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Why?”

“We can’t afford to pay you. I’m sorry, kid.” he said nonchalantly.

“Will I be able to perform sometimes still?”

“Ehh, sure.” he said as he continued his paperwork, not even looking at Paul.

Paul rolled his eyes again. Could his life get any more annoying? He let out a sigh and clocked out. Now what, he thought making his way home.

When he got home George was playing his computer games with his big headphones to fit on his large ears. The younger man didn’t even notice his friend come in until one side of his headphones was pulled and slapped against his head.

“Hey!” George readjusted himself then paused his game to face Paul with his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“My hours got slashed.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, hah.”

George frowned.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you going to find another job?” 

“Well, I’m going to have to because I will not be asking my dad for help.” Paul said as changed into his pajamas and hopped onto his bed.

George sighed. Paul just stared at his friend for a moment, not knowing what to say. This was bad news for both of them. George didn’t have the same financial issues as Paul did. He only had enough for himself. If George could help, he would---and Paul knew he would.

“I’ll think of something, George. Don’t worry.” Paul got under the covers and listened to his friend shut off his computer and lights before hopping into bed as well.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed, then began to think about all the ways he can make money quickly but none of it would be fast enough to pay his next tuition bill. He rubbed his eyes. It was beginning to stress him out the more he thought of it and he just wanted it to all stop for a second.

Ah fuck it, he thought before whipping out his phone and started to scroll through his favorite porn blog on Tumblr. What better way to forget about things than looking at some sexy pictures of guys?

Paul scrolled until he ran into a post that was by a male sex worker selling nude photos and thought hard to himself. It was a young guy about his age selling his photos for $25 a piece and a private snapchat story for $5 per friend request and $15 extra for screenshot privileges.

Paul bit his lip nervously. It’s been a couple years since he did sex work. All he did was some cam work, sold some nude photos, and made customized videos for people on the internet. He remembered enjoying it but there was always the parts he hated that made the job extremely draining like any other job.

He laid there staring at the screen. He must admit, it was tempting to dive in again but he was afraid what George would think.

“George… Maybe I should go back into sex work…” Paul said suddenly.

George didn’t reply. He just snored in in response. That bastard.

Paul sighed and continued to scroll through sex work blogs, inspired by the possibilities until he slowly drifted to sleep.

-

Tag list:

@nowandthenoldfriend

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of the Yiga | Chapter 2

Link and Aryll didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Aryll didn’t come out of her room for a moment, and Link didn’t bother try to talk to her further. Instead, he fell against the couch where he stayed for the entire night, staring blankly at the tv in an attempt to lose himself in whatever was on. He passed out shortly after finishing off a twelve-pack by himself, and only woke up when he heard what he thought to be a door slamming. It startled him, and he nearly fell off the couch. After a quick check through the house, he determined that Aryll was not there. Whether she had actually gone to school was a different story entirely. He supposed he should have attempted to text her, but instead, he trudged into the bathroom to shower off the stench of alcohol.

Despite the amount of alcohol he consumed, his hangover was relatively manageable, though his mood still sour. It made concentrating on his work difficult as his mind wandered to Aryll. He knew he couldn’t necessarily blame her for the way she had been acting. It didn’t take a genius to see her struggles, to know she was depressed. Who could blame her? Her parents were dead. Her brother - and only living family member left - wasn’t around, and when he was, he was moody, drunk, and just downright intolerable. He knew he was partly to blame for her downward spiral. He could barely keep a handle on his own life, so of course it would seem that Aryll was just another problem he needed to deal with.

The truth was, however, Aryll was all that was keeping him together. In a life where it seemed that everyone left him, she was the one who remained. She was the only constant in his life. And dammit, he wanted her to have the best life she could. It may not have looked it to her, but he was trying. Didn’t that count for something? Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he just wanted her to be able to see that.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t even heard Sera approach his desk. He jumped at her greeting, and Sera grinned down at him. She sat against his desk, her arms crossed. “How did your field trip go yesterday?”

Link didn't look up. He continued to scribble numbers across the paper on his desk, occasionally tapping on a nearby calculator with the end of his pen. He never would have imagined himself actually having a job that would require math. But at the same time, he wasn't exactly finding the angle of a triangle, either. And, fortunately for him, the calculator was a wonderful tool high school conveniently tried to hide from him. “Great,” he said dryly. “I even got to bring home a souvenir.”

Sera smirked. “Oh yeah? Anything cool?”

“So cool,” he muttered. “A nice fancy note saying Aryll's gonna get suspended if she doesn't get her shit together.”

Sera frowned. “Yikes. What the hell did she do this time?”

Link sighed and dropped his pen. He leaned back in his chair and let it roll backwards. “Gave some tool bag kid a black eye.”

“Nice,” Sera said with a grin. “Tough girl. I'm sure he deserved it.”

Link shrugged. “I tried to tell her violence isn't the answer.”

Sera laughed loudly. “Isn't that ironic?” She stood then, saying “Oh” as if she remembered why she had come to Link in the first place. “We've got a new guy who is just dying to meet you.” She gave him a wink before calling over her shoulder. “Wally, get over here.”

Within a moment, a kid probably only a couple years younger than Link appeared from around the corner. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger as he regarded Sera. “I told you not to call me that.”

Sera shrugged. “Isn't it your name?”

“No,” he huffed. He turned his gaze to Link, then grinned. “My name's Walt.”

“K,” Link said simply.

“I'm a huge fan,” Walt said excitedly.

“Fan?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

Link's brows knit together. “Why?”

Walt blinked at Link for a moment. “Uh, because you're a total super hero?” He turned his gaze to Sera.

Sera grinned at Walt. “Never meet your heroes, kid.”

Link turned back to the papers on his desk, ignoring them.

“What's a guy like you doing in a place like this, anyway?” Walt said.

Link let his chin rest in his palm as he stared at his computer screen. “Hero work doesn't pay the bills.”

Walt nodded as if he understood such a predicament. “For the record, it totally should.”

“No shit,” Link muttered. “It's not enough that I almost died for this damn country.”

“Can I get your autograph?”

Link looked up at Walt, then to Sera, clearly annoyed. “Is he for real?”

Sera shrugged. “I told you he was a fan. I bet he stalked you here.”

“No, I swear!” Walt said defensively. “I mean, I knew you lived somewhere in the city. I just moved here a few weeks back. But I swear, I didn't stalk you.” His shoulders dropped slightly in an attempt to seem more relaxed. “It's cool, man. I'm cool.”

Link's brows raised and he turned his gaze back to his computer. “Yeah,” he said. “Cool.”

“Cool,” Walt said, waving his hand at Link, as if to dismiss his earlier uncool behavior. “You can get to that autograph whenever. No rush.”

Sera shoved Walt's shoulders, pushing him around the corner. “Bye, Walt!” She smiled after him as he hurried back to his desk, then turned to Link. “You have such a way with your fans.”

Link scoffed, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“So, you down for that drink this time? Sounds like you could use one.”

“Story of my life,” he muttered. He stretched his legs out under his desk and nodded. “Yeah. Alcohol. Definitely.”

*****

Sera was waiting for him outside of the building. It was just after five when he trotted down the steps and walked briskly passed her. She grinned as he walked by, then moved to catch up to him, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“In a hurry?”

“Yes,” Link said simply. “Every minute I’m not drinking is another minute I’m not drinking.”

Sera laughed. “Well, sure, that’s one way to put it.”

“I think it’s the only way to put it,” Link said.

Sera frowned slightly and glanced at him. Though he seemed relatively content, she knew he masked his problems well. She pulled her gaze away and sighed lightly. “That new guy is weird, right?”

Link’s gaze moved to her, well aware that she was quietly judging him. “Sure,” he said. He turned his gaze away and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “What a nerd.” Truth be told, something about him did make Link uncomfortable, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“If he’s a nerd for being your biggest fan, what does that make you?” Sera teased, elbowing him.

“A sucker.”

“Gee, you’re extra pleasant today,” she said.

Link sighed. “I’m tired.”

“Maybe you should skip the beer tonight,” Sera offered with a shrug.

Link shook his head. “Nope. Definitely need the beer.”

“Don’t you think you should get home and babysit Aryll?”

Link scoffed. “She’s avoiding me.”

Sera frowned. “Now what did you do?”

“Why is it always my fault?”

“It’s not,” Sera said. “But I also know that you like to feed the fire.” She shrugged. “You lectured, she argued, you fought back, and now she won’t say boo.”

“There you have it,” he muttered.

“You know -” Sera started.

“Yeah, I do know,” Link snapped at her. “I know. And that’s why I drink.”

Sera sighed. They stopped in front of the bar, and Sera held the door open for him. “Ladies first.”

“What does that make you?” Link said with a grin as he walked through.

The bar was dimly lit, just how Kit liked it. “I’d rather not see the faces of the pathetic sacks that come in here,” he used to say to Link. “I’m actually very uncomfortable seeing yours so much. It’s like we’re friends now or something.”

Link had frequented Kit’s bar over the last five years. Sometimes with Sera. Other times, even with Zelda. But mostly, he was alone. But Kit was always there, and his presence was something Link had grown oddly accustomed to, even fond of, even though they sometimes went a whole night without even speaking. If the situation had been any different, it was likely Link never would have associated with Kit, never mind called him a friend. But now, it seemed Kit was the only friend he had left. It definitely helped that he provided Link with all the alcohol he wanted.

Kit was behind the bar when they entered. He didn’t look up at first, but Link and Sera took their usual seat. Kit seemed occupied tending to a larger group of men on the other side of the bar, but he found a chance to wordlessly slide over their usual orders, throwing his middle finger up at Link over his shoulder as he moved away.

Sera made a sound of disgust. “Lonely, single girl’s night checkin’ you out.”

Link craned his neck to look around Sera in the direction of her gaze. There were five woman in a booth still dressed in their business skirts giggling and glancing in their direction. Link shrugged and disregarded them.

Sera, however, kept her gaze on them, studying them. Her head tilted to the side slightly. “I’d do the one in the middle.” She nodded to herself. “You can have one of the others.”

Link snorted. “No thanks.”

Sera shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said. “More for me.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I get laid more than you do,” Sera said.

Link considered this for a moment, then nodded regretfully.

The group Kit was tending to made their way out of the bar, and the bartender mosied his way over to them, bringing with him two more drinks. He frowned when he saw they hadn’t finished their first.

“You’re slowing down,” he said, pushing the bottles over to them. “Come on, let’s go. I gotta make my money off of you.”

“I think you should send one of those girls a drink from us,” Sera said. “All of ‘em. I wanna get lucky.”

Kit grinned. “If you get him drunk enough,” Kit said, gesturing with his chin toward Link, “he’ll go home with the cactus in the bathroom.”

“Why is there a cactus in the bathroom?” Sera inquired.

“That’s a good question,” Kit said. “I blacked out that night. But I’m convinced Link has something to do with it. He waters it every now and then.”

“I guess you must really save on plumbing,” Sera said.

“Kit shoves it up his ass,” Link said.

Kit’s face twisted in disgust. “I know I’m a lonely guy, but I’m not that lonely.”

“Debatable,” Link said.

“Well, we don’t all have the good looks and charm of a hero,” Kit said.

“Where are these good looks and charm that you speak of?” Sera asked.

Kit shook his head. “It only comes out when he’s drunk and horny. I don’t know how he does it, but he takes a chick home every week.”

“Do not,” Link sneered.

“Oh, right,” Kit said. “You fuck ‘em and run back here to drink some more.”

Sera frowned. “That’s classy, man,” she said disapprovingly.

Link rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating. Why do you listen to him?”

Sera turned her gaze to Kit who shook his head.

“Anyway,” Sera said as she finished off her beer. “I'm glad you decided to come out drinking with me tonight.”

“Why?” Kit absentmindedly dried off a glass behind the counter. “He's not good company.”

Sera grinned at the bartender and tapped against the counter. “Hit me.”

Kit rolled his eyes. He set the glass down, draped the rag over his shoulder, and moved to the other end to grab her another bottle.

“In a glass with an orange slice!” Sera called to him, leaning over the counter. “Do it right, Bartender!”

Kit flashed her his middle finger over his shoulder. When he returned, he slid the bottle across the counter at her, an orange slice jammed into the opening.

Sera grinned up at Kit, then worked to remove the orange slice. “Why don’t you get together with Mipha next time she comes home?”

“Is she still doing that doctor thing?” Kit grinned. “I'd let her do surgery on me.”

“Can it,” Sera hissed. “What kinda sick shit you into?”

Kit shrugged. “She's hot. I'll be into whatever she wants.” He leaned toward Link. “Give me her number already.”

Link finished his beer and shoved it into Kit's chest. “Piss off.”

Kit grinned, happy to be getting under his skin. He tossed the bottle, then retrieved another and slid it across to Link. “That one's on me, you cheap bastard.”

“Giving away products?” Sera said. “How do you possibly stay in business?”

“You should see this guy’s tab,” Kit said. He turned to Link and grinned. “Your alcoholism supports my small business. Thank you, Sir.”

“Glad I can be of service,” Link said, not amused.

Sera frowned, but did not add in her usual two cents as the two men continued to chat.

“Where have you been, anyway?” Kit continued. “It's been a couple weeks since you've been in here.”

“Been busy,” Link said with a shrug. “And its cheaper to drink at home.”

“Touche.” Kit pulled the rag off his shoulder and wiped aimlessly at the counter, removing a wet ring from Sera's bottle.

Sera finished her drink, then dropped her payment on the counter. “Don't let him get too drunk, Kit.”

“You're such a buzzkill,” Kit said to her. He slid her money across the bar and counted it. “Where's my tip?”

Sera rolled her eyes and fished through her pockets. She dropped some change into his palm. “You didn't give me my ora-”

“You got your orange!” Kit hissed at her. His fingers closed over her money and he slid his hand into his pocket. He smiled at Sera. “I'll take care of ya boy.”

Sera patted Link's head. “That's my work husband. You better. See you boys later.”

Kit watched as she moved across the bar, pausing to chat with the women in the booth. They laughed and flirted, and a note was passed between them. Sera waved over her shoulder to them before leaving.

“Does that come with benefits?” Kit said with a grin to Link.

“No,” Link said simply. “She’s like, forty.”

“I'd hit that,” Kit said. He leaned with his back against the bar, just to the side of Link. He watched the game play out on the tv above his head.

“You'd hit anything that moved.”

“It's a lonely life, being a bartender,” Kit said. “All day long, I listen to people talk about their lives, but no one ever wants to hear about mine.”

Link rolled his eyes. “How's life, Kit?”

Kit turned around enthusiastically. “Well, Link, that's right kind of ya to ask.” He paused for a moment, looking up thoughtfully. “Shit. My life sucks,” he said with sudden realization. “All I do is work. And I don't even make enough money to pay someone to have sex with me.” He frowned and leaned back against the bar.

“Poor Kit,” Link said. “Can't get anyone to touch his dick.”

“I could,” he hissed. “I just... don't have time to play the dating game.” He regarded Link over his shoulder. “If you know any single gals...”

Link shook his head. “They're all out of your league.”

“I could get them. What about Urbosa?”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Kit craned his neck to do just that, regarding his appearance in the mirror on the wall. He ran his fingers through his scraggly hair and blew the stray strands out of his eyes. His hair was an odd shade of brown, almost appearing grey and dirty. His skin was pale. “So I look like a vampire. I thought chicks were into that sorta thing.”

“When was the last time you even saw the light of day, man?”

“That is definitely not in the bartender's job description. Day drinkers are my forte. They keep me in business.”

“You open at ten.”

“And you won't believe the line I've got at the door. It used to be eleven.” Kit sighed. “Ten a.m. to two a.m., every day. Doesn't give me much time for a life. Unless, you know, I pick up a hooker on the way home.”

“Classy,” Link muttered.

“Hashtag single forever,” Kit said with a sigh. “That's what people say, right?”

“No.”

“You're a good friend, Link,” he said with a grin.

“Anything for you, Kit.”

“The next one's not free, though.”

“Hit me.”

Kit pushed himself off the counter, moving across to grab Link another drink. He set it on the bar, trading for the empty bottle which he tossed into the bin. “Saves me some dishes, at least.” He turned back to Link. “Sera would have me cut you off after that.”

“Sera's not here.”

Kit nodded thoughtfully. “What about Aryll?”

“What about her?”

“You just gonna leave her alone all night?”

“She's sixteen. She's capable of taking care of herself.”

“You'd make a great father someday.”

“I hope not.”

Kit smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. Link met his gaze, then rolled his eyes.

“Stop it,” he hissed.

“I didn't say anything,” Kit said, raising his hands.

“You're giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“That therapist look. It's condescending.”

“Well, you're just such a sad, pathetic sack.”

“At least I get laid.”

Kit snorted. “When was the last time that happened?” He left Link to mutter to himself, moving to the other end of the bar to tend to another patron. After a few minutes, Kit returned, his palms against the counter. He leaned against his arms slightly.

“We're friends, right?”

“I wish we weren't,” Link muttered.

“And as a friend,” Kit continued, ignoring him. “It is my duty to talk some sense into you.”

“You're not my friend until after two,” Link said. “For now, you're the bartender.”

Kit sighed. He waited for Link to finish his beer, then took the empty bottle from him. When he returned, he only had a glass of water, which he slid across to Link.

Link scrunched his nose at the glass. “The fuck is this?”

“I can't in good conscious continue to support your alcoholism.”

“I'm not an alcoholic,” Link growled.

“Link, I met you five years ago when your stupid ass stumbled into this very bar with your stupid ass friends not an hour after your father's funeral and you haven't left since.”

“I only come for your entertainment,” Link said.

“And I only let you come to extort you. I've made quite a name for myself here, you know. This is the bar the great Hero of Hyrule drinks his life away at. It's practically a tourist spot.”

“Some damn kid at work asked for my autograph.”

Kit snorted. “Why the hell would anyone want your damn autograph?”

“He looks up to me.”

“You know who I look up to? Movie stars. Those guys get all the tail they want. You? You come with nothing but problems. PTSD, alcoholism, depression. Who wants that guy's autograph?”

“He sounds like a train wreck,” Link muttered.

“I'm hoping it will be explosive.”

“Hmph.”

“Nah,” Kit said. “In all seriousness. I'm sick of seeing your ugly mug in my bar. Go drink cheap beer at home. At least be with Aryll. Get some damn help or something.”

“I don't need help,” Link grunted.

“Denial.” Kit frowned. “No one expects you to have it all together.”

“Aryll does.”

“Aryll would understand.”

Link's brows furrowed. He looked up at Kit. “How could she? She has no one left. I'm all she's got.”

“Then isn't that worth, I dunno, sticking around?”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Link muttered.

“Maybe,” Kit said. “But as a bartender, I'm kind of a self proclaimed expert in alcoholism and depression.”

“I'm not depressed,” Link hissed.

Kit raised his hands in the air defensively. “Whatever you say, tough guy.” He left Link alone to mutter into his drink, tending to more patrons.

[marvelstcrk]

Bailing Out

CHAPTER I: Under Arrest

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader

summary: you’ve lived with your aunt and her family after your mother died. one day, you got arrested and your father whom you have never met came to bail you out.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i literally wrote this in half an hour time, i was just super motivated! i’ll turn it into a mini series, maybe two or three parts :)

also im sorry if something here isn’t accurate i have no clue how arresting works

masterlist || bailing out masterlist

“You are under arrest for obstruction of justice.” You heard the words coming out of the man’s mouth, as he slammed you against the car’s door, wrapping your wrists with handcuffs. You rolled your eyes, taking a seat in the rusty police car.

The ride to the police station was long and annoying. Growing up in a small town, you knew almost everyone who lived there and everyone knew you. At least they thought they did. “I can’t believe this, Y/N!” Your gaze moved from the car window to the review mirror, your eyes locking with the ones of the man driving the car. “I understand you’re going through stuff. But come on, ever since Lucy died, you’ve been acting like you just left the jungle. It’s time for you to start acting a bit more mature!”

You rolled your eyes, tired of your mother popping up in every other conversation you led. Ever since she died, it felt like everyone was pitying you. You didn’t know why though, it’s not like their pity would change anything.

After her death, you started living with your aunt, since your mother never bothered to tell anyone who your father was. You didn’t mind, though. You could get by on your own, but apparently, you had to be older than 18 to do so.

Entering the small cell, you turned around letting the policeman take your handkerchiefs off. “Thanks, Tim.” you said, turning towards the little wooden bench before taking a seat there. After a while, you got real bored and lost track of time, tempted to find a sharp item to carve something stupid like “Y/N WAS HERE.” on the walls or the floor. Or both. Maybe even the ugly bench you were sat on. On the second thought, the whole place smelled like Dave, the local drunk who got arrested every night for almost cracking someone’s skull open when things escalate at the bar. You sighed, leaning your head against the cold wall behind you.

Maybe you fell asleep, because the next thing you heard was Tim’s voice. “Y/N, don’t freak out.” You arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a yawn. “Your father will be the one to bail you out.” Eyebrows furrowing closer together, you started laughing hysterically. “I’m serious.” he continued, trying to be louder than your outburst. “He’ll be here any minute now.” You stopped laughing. “How the hell did you find him now? Where the fuck was he for the past 16 years?”

“I don’t know. You can ask him yourself. I just found a letter from a social worker, saying your mother left a note with his information around the time you were born, in case something happens.”

“I don’t need some drunk with no self respect, who missed out on my whole life, to just march in and rescue me from Dave’s second home.” you scoffed. “Just call my aunt to pick me up and I’ll be on my way.”

“No can do, Y/N. Give the man a chance.” He left, leaving you alone to roll your eyes at the thought of the incoming encounter. You didn’t need him to wander in here and save you like a damsel in distress. What happened with the past 16 years? This isn’t the first time you got in trouble.

You heard the door open and Tim talk to someone. Raising an eyebrow in their direction, you tried to eavesdrop but failed. Next thing you know, the cell door is opening and Tim is standing there staring at you. “He signed the release forms.”

“After all this time, you’re just gonna let some stranger take me? What if he’s like a serial killer? What if I never get to tell you I told you so after he kills me?”

He rolled his eyes holding the door open for you. You entered the room and saw the last person you expected sitting by the desk. “Oh this is some kind of a joke.”, you scoffed.

Tony froze, his heart beating so fast like it was trying to escape his chest. First impressions matter after all “You must be Y/N. Hi, I’m Tony.”

Tim took a plastic bag and emptied the containing items on the table. “And here’s your stuff Y/N, you are free to go.”

You shot a sharpe glance in the direction of the man behind the table. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re only doing things because you’re sick of me.”

You unexpectedly strolled out the place, causing Tony to slightly run beside you. “Hey, Y/N!” he called, causing you to turn around.

“What?” you asked frowning.

“C-can you come with me please?”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.” he said, holding his car door open. Your rolled your eyes, and entered the vehicle slamming the door shut. Tony frowned, but still felt a huge weight fall off his shoulders. He ran around the car and quickly entered his side.

Another boring drive from your boring home town to wherever the hell he was leading you. You kept your eyes on the road the whole time, not allowing yourself to look in his direction. Catching glimpse of a watch, you realised the two of you were driving for almost three hours. Finally, you broke the heavy silence. “So you’re not even close as talkative as you are on TV.”

He shook his head, feeling the tension build up in his shoulders. He didn’t want to mess this up. When he got the call few hours ago, he thought it was a prank or something. Now, you looked at him with a dead stare, bored out of your mind.

He couldn’t mess this up.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe something like Hey, Y/N! Long time, no see man, how’ve you been?”

He laughed at this. “Tom called your-“

“Tim.”

“Right. Sorry. Tim called your aunt to let her know that you’ll be staying with me.”

“How do you even know my mother was telling the truth? Maybe she just decided to wing it and slam your name on the papers.”

“One way to find out.” he said, hitting the breaks. You hadn’t even noticed the car had entered a garage. You released your seatbelt. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see.” You looked around, following him as he entered an elevator. A voice spoke and took you by surprise. “Welcome back Mr Stark. Captain Rogers asked me to alert you about your meeting tomorrow.”

“Tell him to bugger off.” he muttered and turned to face you, feeling your confused gaze on him. “It’s Friday. H-her name is Friday, she’s my computer.”

You tapped him on the shoulder, strolling in through the door. Looking around you, you found yourself in a lab filled with all sorts of buttons you were tempted to push. Looking out the big window, you realised it was already morning. Must’ve fallen asleep in the car, you thought. Catching a glimpse of a short man with glasses and a lab coat heading your way, you turned around. “Tony, I gotta talk to you about these calculations for the project alpha. How do you read your own handwriting?” he looked up from the paper, only to see you. “You’re not Tony.”

You stretched your lips as far as you could. “I’m not Tony.”

“Where is he?”

“He was just in the elevator.”

“I’m here!” Tony called, carrying something in his hands. “I see you’ve met Y/N.” You chuckled, waving your hand in the man’s direction. “There’s a possibility she could be my daughter, so...” he took out a little plastic bag and quickly pulled out a strand of your hair before you could object, handing it to the man in the lab coat. “...do your magic.”

Bruce’s jaw flew open as took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before taking the bag. He handed the papers in his hand to Tony. “Decipher this. I’ll let you know once I’m done.”

You raised yourself on your toes, peeking to the papers over Tony’s arm. “Dear lord, how do you read your own handwriting?”

“Hilarious.” he commented, throwing them away in the trash can. “Wanna eat something?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you replied “Wouldn’t mind.”

The kitchen was a large room, obviously built for the whole team to fit in. You made yourself cereal and sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter, Tony leaning against the fridge across from you.

“What?” you asked, your mouth full.

He snapped out of his little chain of thought. He shook his head and went over to the couch.

It’s not that he was afraid of talking to you, he was afraid that you didn’t like him already. He had missed out on your entire life, and even if he is your biological father he’s still a stranger. He couldn’t live with himself if he had harmed you more than his absence already has, so he decided to keep his distance.

You two were in the middle of a movie in the common room, which you had suggested to avoid breaking the ice, when the elevator arrived, followed by Bruce’s footsteps over the room. “Tones, I got the results.” He handed an envelope to him, before gently patting him on the shoulder and leaving. “Thanks buddy.” Tony muttered. “Should I have the honours?”

“Just open it.” you said, clenching the remote control as hard as you could. He did as you said, his eyes rapidly flying over the papers. His eyes widened, and he swallowed a thick nothing. “It’s positive.”

CHAPTER II

[renaroo]

Promises (5/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: WOW. Super long time, no updates. But, hey, I’m back in the swing of things and I’m here to make up for it with a giant chapter of feelings~

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown for being just a fantastically supportive friend and for giving long ago feedback on this sucker before the hiatus <3

A Grave Awakening

Everyone in Titans Tower had, in some form or fashion, personalized their rooms. Their preferences and needs were all met in every way possible. Which made it somewhat more of a curiosity how the unpowered among them would decorate.

From what Starfire and Cyborg had said to him, Tim had taken the same approach to dressing up his room and locker the way the Robins before him had. Plain and boring.

His colors matched his uniform, and there was a photograph from his, Cassie, Bart, and Kon’s first day at the tower. 

There was some training equipment, a punching bag and the like. 

And endless supply of batarangs should he choose to open any of the doors of his dressers as well as a lot of other equipment. 

A computer desk, a gaming chair that only really got use when Bart invaded some of his personal space. 

Bland was perhaps a word Tim found more apt for his tastes than boring. And that was not any unplanned thing. Tim had known from the start exactly what he was doing. 

Not leaving a mark.

Tim’s grandest fear for years was the belittlement and degradation of the Robin name. That somehow his very use of it, his role, would take from the people that came before or after him. He had been trained endlessly to follow their steps, but also to not step out of line.

The impression he was responsible for making within the hero community went almost without saying: he was the new Robin. Not the Robin. Not that one. Not...

Throughout the entire room there was only one break from the Spartan bareness that Tim had taken up, and that was a ridiculous, oversized clock that hung across the room from his bed that was a gaudy Gotham souvenir in the shape of the projecting Bat Signal in the Gotham night. 

It was black and yellow, but the most annoying part about it was the thick outline toward the edges -- a bright white strip that, at night, had the audacity to glow in the dark. 

It was hideous and annoying. 

Tim had never once touched it to so much as take it down let alone set it. After all, it had been a long standing challenge between him and Kon. 

Kon had gotten it as a gag. Kon had hung it in Tim’s room without permission. Kon had refused to take it down despite Tim demanding he do so. 

When Tim looked at that gaudy, awful clock, he thought of his best friend. He thought of the one person who had trusted him -- and only him -- like no one else in the world. He thought about the only person who knew his identity in the Tower, who knew he had Enya CDs in his collection, that he would defend Stephanie’s right to be Robin even against his former teammates. 

He looked at that clock and it was suddenly all horrifically apparent to Tim that in the grand scheme of things, he truly had lost. 

And it didn’t matter what the world threw his way from that moment forward, he was not going to feel more terrible than he did in that exact moment. 

Tim set on the edge of his bed, staring at the awful clock on the opposite wall when he heard the hesitant knock on the door of his room. He turned just enough to see that it was Bart, looking particularly out of place not bursting in and taking charge of the room as per his usual manners. 

“Hey, uh...” Bart stumbled on his own words, bringing a hand to his mouth and chewing on a finger nervously before trying again. “We... I think almost everyone who’s coming is... come. So... They’re outside right now.”

Looking at Bart, Tim attempted to muster some sense of feeling, some words of comfort. After all, he was fairly sure that Bart had never lost someone on this magnitude before. Not since Max Mercury and...

Still, Tim couldn’t stop the dumfounded staring at Bart. 

“I was sent to get you and Cassie,” Bart spat out at last. “So we can... Start. And things.”

Tim looked back down to his lap and folded his hands together. The rub of the leather against itself gave a satisfying crackling. It felt like that should’ve been more than answer enough for Bart or anyone else. 

But Bart was still waiting expectantly at the door. 

“Tim... I don’t know what to do,” he finally said. “It’s not fair that we’re asking you... asking you to...” He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head. Tim could already see the tracks of tears working their way down his cheeks. “I can’t ask it of Cassie -- no one could be that cruel to her. But, Tim... Tim. I... I know you’ve been to too many funerals lately. That I should be the one of us to go up and-and... but I can’t. I can’t stop crying every time I think about it. I’d run away, right off the stage.”

“No, Bart, you can’t do it,” Tim said lowly. “We’d never ask you to... This is hard for anyone. And you don’t want to. And we’d never tell you to do something you can’t do.”

“But you’ve--”

“I don’t have any tears left, Bart,” Tim said simply, drawing the speedster’s gaze entirely. Tim let out a dry laugh. “I don’t. I can’t... I have to do this because Kon deserves it. Just like Stephanie and my dad deserved it. But I didn’t have tears left for them either. The kids who died in my school deserved it. Orpheus deserved it. Not to mention all the heroes who died in the Crisis. Everyone deserves it, but I’ve only been asked to speak for one and... I have to make it count for all of them... because I don’t cry for them anymore. I have to make this one moment count.”

Once the word vomit was clear from his system, Tim looked back toward Bart, maybe looking for some reassurance or perhaps just acknowledgement that such feelings weren’t the epitome of selfishness in the face of the people who had truly lost everything. 

What he received instead was a stare of mounting horror from his childhood friend.

“Dude,” Bart whispered, breathless and lost in a way he never was from running. “Robin... you need... I’m so sorry.”

Genuinely surprised by the statement, Tim turned more toward the Kid Flash. “What do you mean? What are you sorry about?”

For once, Bart’s mouth didn’t seem to be working in his favor. After a few aborted instances of trying to get words out, he then turned and took off like a speeding bullet, as if to get as far away from Tim as possible.

Which... was fair. Tim wasn’t sure if he was the most consoling force in the world. At least not anymore. 

It wasn’t fair for him to not be supportive, to not be there for his closest friends at the time where they needed him most. But Tim couldn’t force himself to be better yet. 

Tim sat on the edge of his bed for a little longer, waiting for it to be time for him to out and lead everyone else in the one thing he couldn’t yet afford for himself: healing.

By the time Tim made his way down to the ground floor, the sun was setting and it was clear to see that Bart had not been exaggerating about everyone being there -- Titans then and past. 

He still found himself hesitant to step forward, because the statue before them was daunting, casting the kind of shadow in the golden sunset that nearly seemed as long as the one that Kon himself cast over them at that moment. 

Tim knew every Titan was there, but it still caught him off guard when Dick approached him, arm still in a cast, limp still obvious. He wasn’t in his Nightwing suit, though he wore the mask over his eyes. 

He had to have had Roy or someone else sneak him out of the Manor after all he had been through. There was no way Bruce or Alfred had let Dick out of their sights long enough for him to pull such a stunt alone. 

Dick approached Tim without any of the reluctance or hesitation that seemed to keep paralyzing Tim with every step. And despite his mask, it was clear that he was in the throes of concern for Tim. 

The intensity of it made him uncomfortable. 

“Tim,” Dick said softly. “Kory told me you had wanted to eulogize and... This year... This year has been too much on you. I was the one who asked Conner to help me during the Crisis, and as a Founding Titan... well I think it would be proper for me to do this.”

A flare of emotion that had been escaping Tim nearly all day came up in his chest and he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a fragile doll, Dick,” he said lowly. 

“We know that, Tim,” Dick said. 

And it was that we that was suddenly very telling.

Perhaps Bruce did know about Dick escaping the Manor after all.

“If I don’t do this today, I’m never going to forgive myself, Dick. And that’s the truth. And if I don’t do it because of you, then I’m probably not going to forgive you for it either,” Tim announced with what he hoped was just the right amount of gravitas. 

For all the gravity, though, Dick seemed more saddened than anything. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Dick said. “Just know... I’m here for you.”

“Yeah...” Tim said, heading toward the other Titans. “Seems like everyone is.”

If Dick had more of a reaction to that statement, Tim didn’t turn back to see it. He was a man on a mission by that point. 

Fortunately no one else tried to stop him as he got in front of everyone and cleared his throat. 

"I... What I need to do is say something,” Tim said, already flummoxing. But as the eyes of all the Titans turned toward him, he built his resolve and continued. “About Superboy... about Kon. Because...” There were phrases like he deserved it and he would’ve wanted on the tip of Tim’s tongue. But none of them were true. Not entirely. 

But everyone was still looking to him, so Tim dug deeper, found words that felt hardened into his bones, felt larger than Kon, larger than his feelings toward everyone else lost as well. 

“He’s... gone now,” Tim said, brows furrowing as if the gravity of that fact was still new and surprising to him. “He was my best friend. Sometimes my big brother. Sometimes my little brother.” He paused, caught his breath, made an effort to not meet any eyes but also to not look away. There was a blur of a crowd before him and he couldn’t see anyone. Which was good. Because he could feel the tears welling up despite the fact that he didn’t think there were more of them in him. “We did some stupid things together... We talked about girls. We talked about cars. And... when my dad died... when Spoiler died... even when I really didn’t want to... we talked about that, too.”

Tilting his chin up, Tim caught his breath again. It was so damn hard to say, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore. 

His audience, despite Tim, was seemingly captivated. Caught in awe.

“I don’t know who to talk to now about that stuff. I guess there’s always Batman and Superman... I mean, in times of Crisis that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Tim went on. “Look to your heroes...” 

H reached up and roughly rubbed away the tears that escaped his mask, took another sharp breath. He could finally see who was around him at that point. The original Titans, or what stood of them by that point. The new Teen Titans and Titans alike. The Titans before his own, and then... him, Cassie, Bart... The members of Young Justice wearing clothes they’d long abandoned so as to pay respects. 

Uniforms of every color. 

“When we lose one of our own, we never know quite what to do,” Tim continued. “Because... we are the heroes. It doesn’t matter if we’re still seen as kids, if we’re still seen as young and maybe a little impatient. Because we’re the Titans. And in this time of Crisis, the world looked to all of us. We answered.” He looked up to Kon’s likeness in the statue, a crushing weight continuing to settle in his chest. “Kon answered. Because Superboy was a hero. And the whole world got to see that he deserved to be called it.”

Cassie burst into tears, tucked between Koriand’r and Bart, Tim knew she would be held up, even if he didn’t know if she’d be okay. So he finished up.

“They say that people live on… That you don’t forget them if you talk about them,” Tim said softly. “So let’s never stop reminding people what Superboy did for them.”

By the time Tim was stepping down from the front of the crowd, he felt it. The emotions that had been chiseled into his bones, gnawing from the inside out through the aches and pains of tiredness. He felt what had been missing since the night he found his father dead and his classmates murdered and his girlfriend tortured.

Tim felt the tears come and he kept them back long enough to walk away from the crowd, numb to the words Cyborg was currently giving, numb to everything but the tears that were managing to get past his mask and no doubt loosen the adhesive.

The only thing he could feel once his vision blurred was how strong Dick’s grip was when he caught Tim’s shoulders with his one good arm and pulled him back against his chest.

Nose bending against Dick’s chest, Tim didn’t care as he leaned in further until his forehead and chin were pressed into the fabric of Dick’s shirt and his head tucked under his mentor, friend, and brother’s chin. He didn’t care who saw, though he doubted anyone was paying attention as the ceremony continued on.

“Let’s get you home,” Dick whispered, rubbing circles into Tim’s back, still pressing him close. “I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Nodding along, Tim had little to say back. Just questions.

Questions like why was Dick sorry when there were those more responsible? And what was home anymore when he was fatherless and motherless and friendless and there was no Blüdhaven and—

He meant the Cave. The Cave was his home.

And there was something, even if Tim could only think of it peripherally, inherently wrong with that sentiment.

When they reached Gotham’s harbor it was well past sunrise. And, for reasons Tim refused to reflect on, he felt some tremendous relief at the realization. Not because it meant that he could finally stop flying the Batwing or because he would be able to lock himself in the guest bedroom that had been his officially for a week and unofficially for years.

There was something heavier there. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on until they dipped into the cloudy Gotham waters and finally entered the tunnels that took them to the Batcave far, far into Bristol.

He finally was able to put a finger to the emotions he felt when they came in for a landing and, against all expectations, Bruce was actually still awake and in the cave working. Still there. Still being Bruce.

And when that realization crept into Tim’s mind, the horrible truth set in.

Tim’s best friend was dead. But the man who made Brother Eye was as good as the father that Tim had lost only a few months before.

After realizing his own emotions, a nauseousness overcame Tim and he leaned forward, setting his forehead against the steering wheel of the Batwing. His eyes were wide, though hidden behind the loosened domino mask.

He felt sick. He felt wrong. He felt so goddamn ungrateful.

“Come on, buddy,” Dick’s always soothing voice called before Tim could feel the strong grip of Dick’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him once again. Always there to be a guiding light — that was Dick Grayson in a nutshell. “I know you have to be tired, but I’m not about to let you sleep in the Batwing. Not when there’s a warm bed and Alfred’s tea waiting on you just upstairs.”

Which meant walking past Bruce. Which meant walking past the man who built the construct that would eventually lead to almost losing Dick, to actually losing Kon.

The man he had looked up to his entire life. The man who took Tm under his wing. The man he loved like a father when he didn’t know what a father’s love felt like. The man who believed in him the way almost no one in the world could.

The man who had not so much as turned from the Batcomputer since their landing. The man who had not gone to the Metropolis statue ceremony. The man who had kept Tim out of the loop until Jack Drake was making his last phone call. The man who kept Stephanie Brown’s death a secret until Tim’s usefulness as Robin was realized during the Gang War.

The Batman, and all the complicated feelings that Tim had never addressed because how could he?

“Tim, I’ll carry you if you don’t walk. Just watch me,” Dick teased.

Without further prompting, Tim got to his feet and looked up at Dick.

Dick had already taken his mask off and his own exhaustion was clear in his face. Some sweat had accumulated just below his hairline, and strands of his hair had gotten caught in it, highlighting the obvious fact that Dick could use a decent haircut. He was sweating and weary from pain but he somehow managed to exude sympathy even before he reached forward and pulled Tim into another one armed hug.

“I’m so sorry, Timmy,” Dick repeated.

But Dick wasn’t the one that Tim wanted to be sorry.

They walked out of the Batwing together and both stopped close to the computer dock where Bruce sat. When he still didn’t turn around, Tim scowled and headed toward the lockers so he could change into the pajamas he could always count on Alfred leaving there.

Almost predictably, Dick went to Bruce to force the matter. It was what the original Boy Wonder was best at, after all.

“I see a lot of missed calls stacking up on the third monitor,” Dick declared as Tim ripped off what remained of his mask adhesive and began to yank at his boots and gauntlets. “They all look familiar, but you can never tell with how smart collect calls are getting these days. You ever asked one if they’re a robot? They get all offended, but they can’t say they’re not robots. It’s weird.”

There was a pause of silence where Tim was certain that Bruce was not going to bother answering. So much so, that as he unclasped his cape, Tim was almost startled by hearing Bruce’s gruff voice answer.

“They’re from the Justice League. Various members. Mostly founders,” Bruce replied.

“Do they need more help for the relief efforts?” Dick asked.

Tim pulled up his pajama pants and tightened the strings.

“They don’t want things to be messy, so my resignation would be preferable,” Bruce answered. “Diana has already tenured hers, setting the example. No one was going to ask her for it. Not even me. But she did it, and now it is the seemly thing for members of the League who are in violation of the Charter to do.”

“Booster Gold doing commercial endorsements isn’t in violation of the Charter?” Dick asked dryly.

“Booster Gold did not almost destroy time and space or invaded privacy on an international scale,” Bruce responded. “Worst of all… Brother Eye never once helped me to prevent the unpreventable.”

“It was the wrong way to go, but they can’t have a Justice League without a Batman,” Dick urged. “If you don’t resign and it’s put to a vote, who on the current roster would stand with you?”

Tim closed his locker door quietly and looked back toward the dock, wondering if the list in his mind was close to Bruce’s.

“No one,” Bruce answered coldly.

He was wrong. Tim’s reserve status as established by the same clause that had allowed Dick as Robin and Jason after him to work on League cases would have made Tim eligible for voting privileges.

Tim would still defend him. Even in his angriest, his saddest, his loneliest.

Because Bruce was still Batman.

“No one would,” Bruce repeated.

Without saying goodnight or acknowledging either in the cave at all, Tim started on his way upstairs. He needed rest almost as much as he needed closure, and his near sycophant nature on the matter was making him nauseated all over again.

Neither Dick nor Bruce seemed to notice his departure.

It was still debatable if Bruce had realized he was there at all.

Heading upstairs, the exhaustion hit Tim like a Ferrari at one-sixty, and even the mental image of such a thing felt appealing compared to the truly rotten guilt that was eating away at him from the inside out.

He had no plans other than to reach his room and collapse into his bed.

But, of course, there was always something unexpected along the way.

The guest room Tim had made his own was merely one of several in the wing of Wayne Manor. Dick’s old room was a bit further down, close to the Master where Bruce of course slept. Tim had been offered Dick’s room before, but considering the trauma of Blüdhaven and everything with it that Dick had undergone, no one had to even ask Tim to move further down the hall. He did it the moment he saw Bruce and Alfred drag Dick home from the Gang War.

There was also Jason’s room. A room that had never been a topic for discussion in all the years Tim had had access to the Manor. And it remained even more so recently.

What Tim wasn’t used to, even if in the back of his mind he was always aware of it, was the guest room that was reserved for one person who never utilized it.

And he was certainly not expecting to see her sitting in the middle of the room’s floor with the door wide open.

“Cass?” Tim called out, stopping in the hall.

Cassandra was sitting in the floor with her back to him, though much like the brief time they had lived together in Blüdhaven, it wasn’t much more than a loose tank top and leggings. Her body was folded over, hugging her knees, chin resting until she heard Tim call out.

Of course he hadn’t surprised her or snuck up on her, but she apparently had been anticipating that Tim walk on by. Because when Cassandra turned to face Tim, tears were fully falling from her cheeks.

“Cassandra,” he muttered again, taking a subconscious step into the room. “How long have you… What’s going on—“

“Didn’t go,” she told him.

“Didn’t go?” Tim repeated in confusion.

“To see him,” Cass said lowly. “To say goodbye.”

Then he remembered — of course. Kon had been the first boy outside of Gotham that Cass truly got to know, the first other hero to get to know her. He was a friend to her, too.

And Tim hadn’t even thought of what Cass had lost recently.

“I know you’re not a Titan, but… If you had told me you wanted to go, Dick and I would’ve taken you,” Tim assured her, getting down to his knees to be more on Cassandra’s level. “I would’ve taken you. I know he was… he was your friend and mine and…”

Cassandra shook her head once, but meaningfully. It was more than enough to let Tim trail off without pressing further.

“I’m… not the same person,” Cass said almost quietly, tears still falling. “I’ve… I’ve volved, Tim.”

“Solved?” Tim asked, still confused, before hesitating as he saw her shoulder, his eyes adjusting to the room.

Cass had never been particularly shy about her body, to what was usually Tim’s dismay, but because of that he had seen her collection of scars. None stuck out more vividly in his head than the exit wound on her shoulder that he had seen up close and personal before. It was large — having grown with age since her father had shot her when she was still so young. And seeing it, remembering it, had always managed to bring Tim’s blood to a boil.

But, right then, at that moment, it wasn’t there.

None of them were.

“Your scars…” Tim said out loud, astonished before looking to Cassandra’s face, searching for an answer. “They’re gone.”

Her tears kept falling but her expression didn’t change. “I’m not the same,” Cass said. “Lazarus… I’m not the same. Please. Please, Tim. Don’t… Don’t tell Batman.”

Tim stared at her, processing everything. His brain was still a foggy mess of emotions and repressions and all the more. But for that moment, clarity hit him.

He was good at being able to shove his feelings aside to put someone else’s first. Most of the time. This time.

With a little hesitation, Tim grabbed Cass’ shoulders with the same strength that Dick had done with him for most of the day. It was enough to put her full attention on him. “I won’t. I’m here for you,” he assured her.

Dick probably would have ended it with a hug, but Tim wasn’t there yet. He couldn’t give out those with the same meaning. But Cass seemed to be in tune, as she reached up and put her hands over his to squeeze them back. And they both let the tears come.

By the time he woke up in the morning, Tim wasn’t sure who was responsible for putting the blankets over him and Cass as they had passed out on the floor of her room.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 50

Warnings: same as the other chapters

Rating: SFW

“So wait, you’re mom was killed by a Heartless and you suspect that it’s Xehanort?” Sora said. 

“That’s exactly what we said, dummy,” Roxy said. 

“Roxy!” Yui scolded. Roxy grumbled under breath.

“My sister is right. Only you and (Y/N) can stop Xehanort,” Yui said. 

“How do you know that we can stop him?” Sora asked. 

“I have the power of time. To Spirits, that’s considered light. But to Xehanort, it’s considered darkness. I was able to freeze the Organization’s moon so that the twins here can get their father back,” you said. 

“Is their father captured or something?”

“Our father is the leader of the Organization, dumbass. I thought you knew that,” Roxy said. 

“Well, excuse me for trying to save my best friend!”

“Both of you are not helping!” Donald said. 

“Zip it, chicken!” Roxy said. 

“I am not a chicken! I’m a duck!” 

“Is she always like this?” Goofy asked Yui.

“Yep. After our mother died, her personality started to change. As did our fathers,” Yui said. 

“I’m really sorry for ya loss.”

“Thanks. I should stop Roxy before she does something she will regret. Roxy that’s enough!” Roxy and Donald stopped fighting and looked at Yui. Roxy growled lowly and moved closer to you. 

“I hate him,” she said.

“I know. It’s pretty obvious,” you giggled. She laughed under her breath and nudged your arm. 

“Hey, get your arm off my friend!” Sora said. 

“Ugh. Whatever, porcupine,” Roxy said as she walked over to Yui. 

“I am not a porcupine!” 

“Can we focus please?” Yui asked, annoyed by her twin sister and her attitude towards the others. 

“Fine. But don’t go off telling a story. Just get to the point,” Roxy said. 

“We need to stop Kingdom Hearts from completing. If our father completes it, then it’s game over.”

“How do we do that?” you asked. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe we can go to other worlds and see if they can help in any way.” 

“Remember to keep the order,” Donald said. 

“Can’t make any promises, chicken,” Roxy said. 

“I told you that I’m a duck!

~Le Time Skip~

After visiting the other worlds, you, the twins, and the trio boarded the Gummi Ship.

“What's that? That big...thing?” Chip asked as he looked at the map.

“Maybe that's the source of the weird reading we picked up before!” Dale said. 

“And there's something funny about Twilight Town. I'm seeing two of 'em!” (i’m sorry, i just like twilight town for our chaotic twilight trio)

“Look! It's another huge energy reading! And it's coming from someplace near the town.”

“I dunno what's going on, fellas, but it sure looks like there's some big trouble brewing around Twilight Town!” You, the twins, and the trio traveled through the Assault of the Dreadnought to get to Twilight Town.

“Hey! I think we're almost there!” Goofy said. 

“Huh?” you and Sora asked.

“What?” Donald asked.

“What’re you talking about?” Roxy asked. 

“Are you sure?” Yui asked.

“Gawrsh, aren't we here because of the picture?” Goofy asked as he took out a photograph. “Look, I'll show ya!”

“Yeah! Goofy's right!” Donald said. 

“C'mon, let's go find this mansion!” 

“Yeah!” you, Sora, and the twins said. When the six of you reached the Old Mansion, you all saw the gate open and Pence, Hayner, and Olette lying on the ground. Sora ran to Hayner.

“Hey, are you all right?” Sora asked as Hayner started to get up. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

“We came here looking for Kairi. Then those white things attacked us...” Hayner said. 

“You gotta be careful!” Donald said.

“Wait, why do you three look familiar?” Yui asked.

“Yeah, you three look super familiar,” Roxy said. The Twilight Trio looked at the twins in confusion. 

“We don’t know you. Why do you think you know us?” Pence asked. The twins thought about it till it hit them.

“You’re our cousin’s!” Yui said. 

“HUH?!” you and the others exclaimed. 

“Yeah! Our dad was your uncle! And you lived in that mansion behind you!” Roxy said.

“But the thing is, we don’t remember who our uncle was or what happened that made us forget you guys,” Yui said. 

“That’s a lot of info to process in two minutes,” Olette said.

“Okay, say that you are our cousins, how do we know that you’re telling the truth?” Hayner said. 

“We don’t have anymore proof. You just have to believe us,” Yui said. 

“Okay. But why are you looking for Kairi?” you said.

“Because Kairi’s our friend too, ya know,” Hayner said.

“You're right... You know, I never thought of it like that before,” Sora said.

“Word is, this mansion gets a lot of really strange visitors.” 

“We thought this place might be the gateway to some kind of alternate Twilight Town,” Olette said.

“What do you mean, alternate Twilight Town?” you asked. 

“Hey, Goofy, do you think we could see that crystal of yours?” Pence asked. Goofy nodded and took out the crystal and the munny pouch.

“I made that pouch myself, and I still have it. So there shouldn't be two of them here,” Olette said. 

“And this is the trophy Seifer gave you. You left it behind, remember?” Hayner said as he held up the Four Crystal Trophy.

“It's the only one of its kind. Same for the crystals---red, blue, yellow, green---only one of each color. But you've got your own!” Pence said. 

“So...where'd you get it?” Sora thought for a moment. 

“The pouch is from the King. When he gave us munny for the train ride, he gave us the crystal too,” Goofy said.

“But then...where did the KING get it?” Pence asked. 

“See? There's gotta be another town out there like this one. That would explain how the King got that pouch and the crystal. Everything makes sense,” Hayner said. You, the twins, and the trio looked at each other. 

“It...does?” you asked. 

“That other town must be where whatever's missing from here went!” Pence said.  

“Like Kairi,” Olette said. 

“Wait a second. Did you two did something to Kairi?” Sora said as he looked at the twins. 

“No way. We were told to look after (Y/N). But instead, we froze the moon to stop Xehanort,” Yui said. 

“I get it!” Suddenly, a few Dusks appeared. King Mickey swooped down and sliced them.

“Watch out!” he said. You, the twins, and the trio fought alongside Mickey to defeat the Nobodies.

“I got somethin' to tell ya. I found out where Ansem is---Ansem the Wise! The real Ansem! He snuck into Organization XIII's stronghold,” Mickey said. 

“And we've figured out where Kairi is! I'm pretty sure we're right,” Sora said. 

“But why'd you all come here? And why are the daughters of Xemnas here?” 

“Because we want to get our family back the way it was,” Roxy said. 

“Also, someone gave us a clue,” you said. 

“Who?” 

“Well, Your Majesty, Sora thinks it might been Riku,” Goofy said. 

“It's just a feeling I had,” Sora said. 

“Well, if that's what ya think, then it's probably right.”

“You mean Riku's okay!”

“If that's what ya think...” 

“We've waited long enough, Your Majesty! Tell us what you know!” you said, crossing your arms. 

“It's not for me to say.” 

“But Your Majesty! Why?” 

“I don't wanna break my promise.” 

“You made a promise to Riku!? So he's okay! We can see him again!” Sora said. Mickey covered his mouth.

“Huh? Who’s Riku?” Hayner asked.

“Our best friend,” you said. 

“That's IT!” Pence said. 

“Your Majesty? You got the pouch with the crystal from Riku, didn't you? And you promised not to tell, right?” Olette asked. 

“Gosh, guys...” Mickey said. 

“That's enough!” Donald said. 

“Yeah. Let's go!” Sora said as he turned to face the mansion.

“Kairi! Riku! We're on our way!” you said. You and the others entered the main foyer of the mansion.

“There's gotta be a computer somewhere,” Mickey said. 

“A computer... Do you think it's connected to that other Twilight Town?” Pence said. 

“It might be. And there should be a way into the Realm of Darkness there.” 

“Riku told you that, didn't he!?” Sora asked. 

“Please, Sora. I made a promise.” 

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Hey! Stop pestering the King!” Donald said. 

“Right. Sorry...” Yui and Roxy headed up the stairs, seeing if they could find any more clues as to what happened to the Twilight Trio and why they couldn’t remember what happened. They entered a bedroom and saw four beds decorated in the room. The Twilight Trio entered the room and saw that it had pictures of them as kids with another kid with them.

“So you were telling the truth,” Hayner said. 

“Yeah. If only we knew what happened,” Yui said. 

“Well, there’s gotta be something here that can help us,” Olette said. The twins nodded and they began to search. As they were searching, Roxy came across a photo that contained her, Yui, the Twilight Trio, and a girl. She picked up the photo and got a flashback.

~Cue The Flashback~

The twins, the Twilight Trio, and a girl ran around the Gray Area of The Castle That Never Was and laughing. In the distance was Xemnas and his wife along with Ansem SOD and his wife. 

“When was the last time that we got to hang out like this?” Xemnas’s wife asked. 

“I know. It’s been a while since we got to hang out! But you know that we have jobs to do,” Ansem’s wife said. 

“Agreed. Me being a queen and you being an adventure.”

“And let’s not forget that we’re Spirits.” The two Spirits laughed as Xemnas and Ansem brought over some wine. 

“Thank you dear,” Xemnas’s wife said. 

“You’re welcome, love,” Xemnas said as he kissed her cheek. The two man sat down next to their wives and had a conversation with each other. A girl with blonde hair and in pigtails ran up to Ansem’s wife. 

“Mommy, look what I made you!” she said softly. Ansem’s wife looked down and saw her daughter holding up a drawing of the two of them together. 

“Thank you, honey. It looks beautiful!” Ansem’s wife said as she took the drawing. The girl smiled and went back to playing with the other kids. 

~Flashback Over~

Roxy jumped as she felt Yui’s hand touch her shoulder. Yui looked over Roxy’s shoulder and saw the picture.

“If only we could remember what happened,” Roxy said. 

“Yeah. Hey, who’s that girl” Yui asked as she pointed to the girl in the picture. 

“I don’t know. I think she might be Uncle Ansem’s daughter.” 

“How can you tell?” Hayner asked as he looked at the photo. 

“Compare her looks to yours. They’re almost identical,” Roxy said. 

“Does that mean that she’s our sister?” Olette asked. 

“Mhm. And also a Spirit.” 

to be continued...

[silvermoonartz]

Second Meeting (Mercury Green)

Rated T

Strangely this is the first chapter of Mercury Green (my superhero AU) I’m publishing and it’s a really random one so a lot of things don’t have the right context. I wrote most of it on August 19th when I was thinking about Sabina’s/Mystery Girl’s role in the AU (its way more fleshed out now) and how Pearl and her met in this. The first thing that came to my mind was apparently some crazy stuff and this chapter is the aftermath. I finally went back and finished it this morning. Once I write more I’ll make a master post with the correct order.

Pearl

     I took another huge swing of my iced tea, finishing the sixteenth bottle I've gone through as I typed the last grade into my computer for the day. I absolutely hate the fact that I can hardly stay awake while grading the projects of my class. I love it when I have time to grade things, but this is absolute hell. I really hope I didn't mess anything up. 

     Once I shut the computer down I got up to clean up the chalkboard like usual. While this is the twenty first century, and most teachers wouldn't have chalkboards anymore, I enjoy keeping things old school. I took the chalk duster and brushed of my intricate diagrams of the work my class had to follow today, then cleaned it off with some spray and a rag, making sure it was spotless. Although, I would soon come here the next day to find the most annoying spots left on it to my dismay.

     "Great!" I exclaimed with satisfaction, "Now all that's left is organizing every little piece of chalk by color."

     I took all the chalk off of the ledge they laid on and set them into a little pail while I wiped it down. I then reached down to grab a small pink stick of it and started to gently lay it down on the ledge perfectly straight when a set of three knocks on the door made me jump up and it flew out of my hands.

     "Come in!" I shouted groggily.

           The door opened up and Peridot poked her head out. 

                "Hey Pearl! Er, Miss Halite. I just wanted to stop in here to pick up my dress before I head back home if you're done grading it. Though, it's okay if you still need it," she said as she stepped in. Another girl came in behind her with a phone as Peridot closed the door. She seemed super tired.

She was a huge muscular girl that made Peridot look even more like a midget than usual, since she only stood just above this girl's waist. She had nice curves and she probably would have a lot of cleavage if she weren't wearing a collared jacket. She was really hot and that dyed pink hair corresponded well with her jade eyes. That really warm and strange feeling you get when you are sexually attracted to another person flooded though my body. 

What the heck Pearl! This is probably a student and you're a teacher! You could get fired if you go after her! My consciousness barked at me. 

     Peridot walked over to me. 

          "This is Sabina. She's the girl that found me in the alleyway after that whole chemical mercury accident I got into. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be dead!" Peridot exclaimed as she looked in her direction. Sabina was still looking down at her phone.

     "Stupid Kevin. Stop texting me already," she muttered.

          "Aren't you two in a relationship? Don't couples text one another a lot?" Peridot asked her. So Sabina is dating a guy then?

     "No. According to him I decided to dump him last night, and he wanted to know if that was still the case since I was tipsy when I told him that. I then told him that hey, if I broke up with you, I probably had a valid reason for doing so. Go find someone else to fuck around with. He still won't stop texting me!" She explained to Peridot, "Honestly, I'm glad I did that even if I don’t remember. He's really clingy and kind of a fuck boy."

     "I sort of can understand that. I haven't really been in any big relationships before, but I have this one girl I said no to once and she still won't leave me the hell alone!" Peridot exclaimed. I knew that she was definitely referring to The Purple Cougar.

     "I guess some people just won't let go of things, huh?"

          "Yeah."

               I guess I'm not much better. Pink Diamond has been with Greg for around twenty years, but I still can't get it out of my head that I can still be with her. I suppose that something inside me is telling me that when Greg dies of old age I'll just be able to take her back again. That's pretty morbid. Especially since Greg and I are good friends now. I know that I desperately need to let go of her but I don't know how or if I can find anyone who I can love like that. I did have a small crush on Peridot's ex, Bailey, but that was soon shattered once I found out that she had a girlfriend back home in Arizona.

     "Well, anyways, Sabina is coming over to my place so I can help her study for a big Calculus test that she flunked today," Peridot told me, getting back on topic.

     "That's nice of you," I told her.

          "Yeah. What kind of grade did you give me for my dress?!" Peridot asked when she suddenly remembered why she was here. 

     "I gave you an A," I told her.

          "Really? I accidentally cut the fabric shorter than I wanted, I went too deep on the v-neck, and it has one seam that didn't go in that well," Peridot was surprised that she'd gotten an A.

     "Trust me. That A was well deserved. The stitches are absolutely perfect besides that minuscule one you missed and that's hardly noticeable. It looks professional!" I reassured her.

     "Well, you're the teacher and I'm not going complain about an A," Peridot said with a smile, as I walked over to get her dress from the pile of projects I'd graded. I handed her the small folded up black dress and she took it.

     "Can I see that?" Sabina asked Peridot.

          "Yeah!" Peridot said happily.

               She unfolded the dress to reveal what it looked like. It was a short flowy dress with a sharp v-neck, thin straps, and a silky ribbon tied around it. 

     "Wow. Are you trying to impress someone with that?" Sabina asked her.

          "No. I don't have romantic feelings for anyone right now," Peridot replied casually,  "and even if I did, I definitely wouldn't use this. I wouldn't want them to like me just because I'm sexy," she said with a proud little smirk when she said 'sexy'.

     "That's smart. Though if it were me, I wouldn't be afraid to show off to someone I liked," Sabina said, glancing over at me when she saw that I was staring at her chest. My face heated up and I quickly looked away. You need to stop!

     "I guess it's different for different people."

          "Yep."

               Peridot turned back towards me, "So anyways Pearl, I suppose you're wondering why I stopped in for my dress now instead of just picking it up during class tomorrow like everyone else."

     "Honestly, I didn't even think about it. I'm not really thinking much at all," I told her. Then I quickly walked behind my desk to grab my seventeenth bottle of iced tea from the cooler I had and took another swig as I walked back over to them.

     "That's exactly why I came now. I'm really worried bout you. You're always very alive and perky, but you seem really out of it today. I wasn't going to mention anything during class since you probably wouldn't want attention drawn to it," Peridot told me.

     "Yeah. I've had horrible headaches today, I threw up this morning, and I'm super tired. I think I might have a hangover or something," I said exhaustedly.

      "Don't I know how that feels!" Sabina exclaimed.

           "Is that why you look so tired?" I inquired.

               "Yep. I've been drinking coffee all day just to stay awake."

                    "I've been drinking iced tea! There's like eighteen and a half fluid ounces of caffeine in these things!" I said excitedly.

     "Wow. That's a lot. I should just do that next time."

          "Yeah. It tastes way better than coffee too."

                "You never really struck me as someone who would drink, Pearl," Peridot piped up.

      "Well, what most people do when their heart has been broken is drink it away. Though, I do it way too much and I honestly need to quit. Haven't you learned about that by listening to all of those country songs?" I asked her. 

      "That actually makes a lot of sense for you now that I think about it," Peridot admitted.

     "You listen to country music?" Sabina asked Peridot.

            "Yes! It's the best! Though I do like Classic Rock," she replied.

                  "Rock is the best in my opinion. What artists or bands do you like?" 

                      "I mostly listen to Journey, Bon Jovi, The Eagles, Guns and Roses, Pat Benatar, Billy Joel, John Mellencamp, Poison, and Rick Springfield. Oh! And Bonnie Tyler too. I really like 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' and 'Holding Out for a Hero'," Peridot told her. These two really seem to get caught up in their own conversations. These songs and artists are so nostalgic. I kinda miss the eighties.

      "Those are all good ones! I really need to take you to a rock concert sometime."

           "That would be fun. Though Pearl, I was wondering that if you drink often and we hang out a lot, why haven't I seen you like this before?" Peridot asked me.

     That's because before I had on that silver collar with my magic pearl keeping me healthy. Though it's weird that I can still get drunk but never have any side effects from it with that thing on. I'm still trying to find out how those magic gems from my home planet even work. 

      I scratched my neck as if to cue to the fact that I didn't have my collar. Peridot would naturally be smart enough to understand since she knows about it, but to anyone else, I'd look as if I were itching the huge black ribbon I had tied around my neck.

      Peridots eyes widened when I did that, so she certainly caught onto my message. Those dilated fake green eyes clearly asked, how the actual hell are you alive?!

           "Wow! I was so wrapped up in how sick you seemed that I didn't even notice that you didn't wear a fashion scarf today like usual," she said, looking at my ribbon, "Though you don't really seem like someone who'd wear a huge ribbon like that around your neck." 

     "You wear a fashion scarf all the time? I'm pretty sure most girls would use that to hide hickeys. Although collared jackets and sweaters work well for that too," Sabina stated. How would she know that much about hiding hickeys?

       "Actually, that reminds me Peridot. I need your help with something quick, since you're as smart as I would normally be-"

     "Smarter."

          "Yeah, whatever. So anyways, I'm in no condition to think straight-" I snickered, "Ha! I never think straight! Wow I really need sleep! Okay, so I can't think straight so it'd really be nice if you could help me," I told her. 

     "Sure, lay it on me," Peridot said nonchalantly.

          "Promise you won't freak out?" 

               "I promise."

                    I took a breath of air and blew it out as to calm myself, then I reached behind my back and gave a light tug on the long part of the ribbon, causing the bow to fall apart and the ribbon drifted down onto the floor.

     "Well someone sure had fun last night!" Sabina exclaimed in amusement when my neck was revealed.

     "What the actual hell Sabina! She was probably taken away by some stupid jerk that was set to have sex with her that she despises and since she was drunk she was perfectly okay with it and now she's going to live with a broken and traumatized mind for the rest of her existence!" Peridot spat.

     "Are you alright?" Sabina asked her.

          "No. I'm actually not," she said, looking down at her feet. That poor girl, she's even more broken by what happened between her and Cougar than I thought. I know that she wouldn't dare do something like that to Peridot sober, she may be too flirty but she’s far too kindhearted for that. It still makes me angry though. I think the best thing I could do for her is to go on with my story so she can stop thinking about that.

     "So, I woke up on the floor of my apartment this morning with these all over my neck, no sleep, and a throbbing head," I told her as she silently offered to throw away my finished bottle of iced tea.

     "Pearl, there isn't eighteen and a half fluid ounces of caffeine in this thing. There's sixty nine milligrams of caffeine out of the eighteen and a half fluid ounces that is the entire bottle!" Peridot stated as she was about to throw it out, examining the label.

     "Ha! Sixty nine!" Sabina laughed out loud.

          "Wow. You both need sleep badly. Sabina, you're overly tired as hell, and Pearl, you look like a freaking vampire! More so than usual," Peridot pointed out, disgusted by Sabina's immature response to her comment about the label. She quickly threw the bottle away and went back over to us.

     "And that brings me to the next part of the story. So I had to go to the bathroom to throw up, which is absolutely disgusting, and then when I came back out I saw that there was a piece of paper on the floor by where I was laying," I told her as I reached into my pack pocket to take out a small piece of paper and handed it to Peridot.

     "Call me if you ever want something to sink your fangs in again~," Peridot read with a struggle, the writing was pretty messy.

     "And that number on it looks kinda familiar," she stated with wonder, "I just don't know where I've seen it."

      "Really?" I asked. Perhaps it was worth letting her check it out.

           "It could be Amethyst's. You've met her before. She's my fun roommate..."

                Please don't let it be Amethyst. I know her way more than Peridot knows I do, even more so than Peridot herself. She is definitely someone who I desperately hope I didn't sleep with. Not that she'd even be interested.

     "Nah, her number is different."

          Thank god.

               "Hmmm... It could be R-" Peridot started to say before Sabina cut her off.

                    "Oh, just give me that!" Sabina exclaimed as she snatched it out of Peridot's small hands. She carefully scrutinized it, then her jade eyes widened in shock.

     "That's... my number," she breathed before slowly looking up at me.

           My face started to burn as it flushed a bright red. I didn't know what to think.

                "Oh my god," we said simultaneously as we looked at each other. The two of us were completely stunned and at a loss of words. 

     I really don't know how to feel at the moment. Am I happy that it was her? I mean she is incredibly beautiful and sexy.... my mind trailed off and I felt myself heat up even more. No! What if this is something like the whole Purple Cougar and Iron Mage dilemma and she doesn't want any of this, but it was out of our control because we were completely drunk? Gah! I don't know! How did I let this happen.

     Peridot took a while to process things herself.

          "What that hell!" She exclaimed once she finally comprehended the situation.

               Sabina had also done the same, while I was still a flustering mess.

                   "Well I suppose my writing on that paper explains this," she said as she unzipped her jacket. She had a low cut tank top on underneath it and wow. I was right about her having nice cleavage. Stop checking her out! 

    She pointed at a small bite mark on her neck. She had a few hickeys as well, not as much as I did, but they were still hickeys nonetheless. But why would I bite her? That's just weird. Not that this situation itself is any less weird.

     "That's it. I came here for my dress and to check on Pearl. I don't know if she's fine, but we're leaving," Peridot stated curtly as soon as she saw that. She started heading towards the door.

     "Oh. Okay. Thanks for helping me figure that out I guess," I said as she turned to leave.

   "No problem."

        Sabina zipped her jacket back up and walked over to me. Why is she coming over to me? She took my hand and I felt blood rush back up to my face again. 

     "Here," Sabina said as she placed the paper into it, "Keep it."

          She then looked up at me and smiled. 

               "Maybe we'll see each other again."

                    And with that she dashed off to catch up with her tutor, leaving me a flustered mess.

     All I know is that this has to be the start of something good.

[whitebirdmagazine]

I Quit Social Media for a Week

Saturday, May 6, 2017

Life was simpler when I was younger. No job, no bills, no responsibilities except the minute amount of homework that, let’s be honest, I was excited about. I could play all day, pretending to be any number of characters from movies and books, and that’s all I really had to worry about. Even in high school and college, where the homework amounts were staggering and jobs and bills and responsibilities started to become a never-ending nuisance, things were simpler.

So what happened? I graduated college in 2008, right around the time facebook opened its doors to the masses (rather than just the college kids like it was when I signed up) and twitter became a thing. And phones got smarter.

Sure, there was myspace and livejournal and all that when I was in high school, and facebook in college, and we all carefully curated our Top 8 friends and our AIM away messages, but there was still a level of disconnect we don’t have today.

Now, there are 15 different social media apps for each part of your life you want to share, and they’ve taken over our free (and not so free) time.

As a high school teacher, I see the dangers and perils of social media on a daily basis, and realized that while I’m older and no longer subject to much of the same levels of cyberbullying these kids go through, I’m on social media entirely too much.

So I’m going to conduct an experiment: for one entire week, I’m going to stay off social media.

I want to see what happens when I don’t have mindless scrolling at my fingertips when I’m bored. Currently, my phone is a constant distraction whenever I’m trying to be productive in my creative endeavors. At work it’s not really a problem since I’m a teacher and free time is a luxury, but on the evenings and weekends, my phone battery dies faster than you can say YouTube.

For the record, these are the social media networks I regularly use (so will not be using during my experiment): YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, and Facebook. The only exception I’ve allowed is to post a video to my YouTube channel, but I’m not allowed to check comments or views until the week is up.

This will be going from Sunday, May 7 - Saturday, May 13 (at midnight, a full 7 days). I will be deleting these apps from my phone for the duration of the experiment.

Let’s see how this goes!

Saturday, May 6 11:37pm

I tweeted a “see you later” and deleted twitter, facebook, instagram, and snapchat apps from my phone so I’m not tempted by the little red numbers (or habit). I wonder if anyone will like/favorite/DM/comment while I’m gone. Will I be sad if they don’t?

Sunday, May 7 9:39am - Day 1

I woke up this morning, grabbed my phone, checked my email, and then felt lost. Normally this is when I catch up on all I missed overnight… but now? So I got out of bed, made breakfast, and checked goodreads ratings on all the books I bought at the library sale yesterday (Goodreads doesn’t count as social media!). Semi-productive already. Now… to read?

4:15pm

I finished one book (The Master and Margarita - FINALLY) and started another (The Upside of Unrequited) and am starting to do that thing at chapter breaks where I pull my phone out looking for a distraction. Which makes no sense because I’m thoroughly enjoying this book. But no distractions await me, and I open the book for a new chapter.

11:22pm

Day one: done. Also, I finished The Upside of Unrequited, but that may have also been because it was a fast read and I had a decent chunk of time to devote to it. Also, no social media distractions… I wonder what else I can accomplish this week. I do sort of feel disconnected, though. Like, I want to share my thoughts about this book and see all the Disney posts on Instagram and check twitter and get rid of the Google Plus (YouTube) notification on my email. But I can’t.

Monday, May 8 9:30am - Day 2

It’s only been a day and already I feel so much freer without being tied down to the various social media feeds. What am I really missing? Drivel. I did feel a bit weird this morning as I drank my coffee - usually the time I scroll through all my feeds - but I just opened my phone and didn’t know what to do with it. So I listened to my audiobook instead. So far, no social media equals more productivity. I want to keep this in mind when I’m back in a week.

9:45pm

I told my students about my experiment and convinced another to try it. Another told me she tagged me in something but I told her I can’t check it until Sunday. That might be the hardest part - the communication barrier. Social media is how we connect now, it’s how businesses and artists get followers, create connections. So much of the world is online. But what if I don’t want to be? (To an extent, at least - I feel like it’s impossible now to avoid the internet totally, especially for creative types because it is such an easy/cheap way to distribute your work.) But do I really need a twitter/insta/facebook/snap? No. Do I enjoy them? Sometimes. Do I feel the effects of not having them? Yes.

Tuesday, May 9 2:48pm - Day 3

It’s starting to get annoying now, mostly because

I’m bored, and

I created a poll for online lit mag titles and I can’t crowdsource, so I have to do it the old-fashioned way, which gets fewer responses.

I’ve restarted my feedly as well, in an effort to curb the planning block boredom. Does that count as social media? It’s articles - mostly from online lit mags - so it’s educational, right?

9:25pm

After work I went to Happy Hour with teacher friends for teacher appreciation week (appreciating ourselves) and at one point, the other three were all on their phones, scrolling through social media (for memes based on AP Exams, because teachers), and so as the only person not on social media (or an AP teacher, for that matter), I definitely experienced the non-social side of social media. I was left out because I wasn’t on my phone, yet we’re all leaving ourselves out by being on our phones rather than interacting with the world around us. Ironic.

On another note, my sister-in-law asked me for a picture of us from Prom, and even though I was pretty sure one existed on facebook, I couldn’t get to it, so I had to physically find all my old photos and dig through them to find one.

On a side note: How weird is it that when we share pictures now we just shove our phones in people’s faces? And then there’s no control - what’s stopping them from scrolling through your other pictures? With physical photos, they only get the stack you give them.** Invasion of privacy is the new normal.** Oh, and I downloaded two new games to my phone just to have something to do to kill small amounts of time. Distractions, distractions. Hard to get rid of them all.

Wed, May 10 9:32pm - Day 4

I almost went on facebook today by accident. I was on my computer, procrastinating writing (as one does) and opened a new tab. I was just about to type the ‘f’ when I realized autopilot had taken over, and I closed the tab.

I’ve been good, but now it’s starting to get annoying. It’s not that I miss it, per say, I just liked having the option to scroll. Though I guess that’s the problem - the option becomes the norm becomes the auto-action and we get sucked in.

I guess I Just wonder if I’ve missed anything. I know - rationally - that I haven’t. That nothing on social media is important. But it’s also how people communicate, and what if someone tried to message me? (Well, I guess if they really needed me, if it were really important, they’d find a way.) And how often do I get messages anyway? Not very. I fear that part of me expects other to have missed my presence, that I’ll come back to all sorts of messages and notifications… when, in reality, I probably won’t have any. And I’m kind of worried how I’ll feel when that happens. It would seem I’m much more in the clutches of social media than I thought.

Thurs, May 11 9:36pm - Day 5

The only time no social media really affected me today was when I wanted to check facebook to see if was my friend’s birthday (it was). I didn’t want to tell her happy birthday if it wasn’t and don’t have that info anywhere else (because that’s what facebook is for), so I had a student look for me. Yep, I sunk that low. I guess that in itself is a lesson: don’t depend on social media for courtesy and manners. That kind of thing should be kept in a safer location - what happens if the account had been deleted, or facebook was hacked and everything gone? No more birthday reminders. Old school might be the best way to go.

Fri, May 12 11:28pm - Day 6

Only one more day. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me says “thank goodness,” while the other part knows how quickly I’ll probably sink back in. But I’ve been so productive this week without it, and the whole thing has been positive and freeing, so I hope I remember that.

Sat, May 13 11:03pm - Day 7

Last day! Last hour! I think today was the day I checked my phone the most, since Sunday, before realizing I had nothing to do on it. Probably because it’s the weekend and my days aren’t filled with school distractions. But, I’m going to preemptively say (because I’m going to watch a movie and go to bed), I MADE IT!

Sun, May 14 - What I missed

Facebook: 20 notifications, 0 directly for me Instagram: 1 comment, 5 followers, 14? Likes Twitter: 4 messages (some with missed threads), 27? Notifications (some of these from a group tag) Youtube: 6 comments (no new video posted) I didn’t reinstall Snapchat.

So did I miss anything super exciting or pressing? No.

I responded to maybe three of the tweets I was went, and that’s it. And honestly, I scrolled through them all for about 15 seconds before I realized I just didn’t care, and closed my phone.

Social media is great for communicating - it’s an easy way to get in contact with people on an informal level (or like, with students - two of my notifications came from them), but mindlessly, endlessly scrolling is a waste of time. There’s nothing important there, and it’s all FOMO, basically. If I quit scrolling, I may miss something important/genius/hilarious/etc, but nine times out of ten, there’s nothing there, or it wasn’t all that profound/important/funny anyway.

I also noticed that as soon as I turned it all back on and started the scroll, I started judging and comparing myself to others. Well, they got a nice note from a student I didn’t get (except I did, last week, and Instagrammed it too); they commented on that post; they’re celebrating 5 years, etc. It’s all there to put our best lives forward, but at what cost to ourselves and others? Numbers don’t matter and yet we all live so anxiously by them. By tiny digital hearts and thumbs up that mean ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

Social media drives the world rather than talent, ambition, intelligence, creativity. It’s all about your following - it’s how Trump got elected.

And it’s terrifying.

So I’m back, but not like before. And I know how easy it is to slide back in, but I’m going to try my hardest not to. I hope this sticks, because this past week felt good, and I don’t want to get lost again.

7:55pm

Honestly, it’s been 12 hours and I’ve barely scrolled. I just don’t care anymore. The conversations are nice - the FOMO I’d felt wasn’t really about the tweets and instas, it was about the missed opportunities for conversation, through notifications and DMs. Five pictures down my Insta and I was done. I deleted most of my twitter notifications because again, I just don’t care.

And I don’t want them clogging my time, my energy, my optimism, my life.