#this idea was originally meant for I'll Wait At The Gate

[nobodywritingao3]

unnamed monster & caretaker au

Tasked with feeding and caring for the king's resident monster, Tommy is constantly overworked and fully expects to die before he's twenty. He has an odd relationship with the beast and makes it a point to keep details about himself private, but it's difficult when the creature is the closest thing in the world he has to a friend.

wordcount: 2.3k 🕸 read it on AO3

CW: - hard vore mention - soft vore mention - mentioned abuse and dehumanization

‼️‼️‼️ Unfinished, unedited one shot. Proceed with caution

@gracideaviolet sent me a writing prompt and this is what i originally wrote for it. i like the concept but i wrote this at a not-good time and when i reread it, i didnt like the quality enough to fix it. if you like this story, let me know cuz that might give me motivation to properly finish this thing. feel free to take the idea but please credit and send it to me cuz i like this story and wanna see what someone else does with it

Tommy finished loading the cart and took a second to breathe.

He heard the beast shifting around in the dark. "Are you doing okay out there, Sunshine?"

Despite his tiredness, the sweet nickname made him smile.

"You know you eat a lot? It's a pain in the ass to load myself."

He meant it as a joke but silence hung in the air a second longer than it should have.

He cleared his throat. "I don't mind it. I'm compensated."

The beast snorted. "Not enough."

Tommy laughed awkwardly and didn't say anything.

He walked over to the control panel and started up the track.

The cart was big enough to fit a barn, and filled to the brim with various livestock, prisoners of war, and whoever else might have found themselves on the king's hit-list. Nothing sent to the monster was alive. It was a point the monster whined about a lot, but Tommy much preferred it that way. It was already disgusting having to spend hours upon hours piling the cart with bloody meat (sometimes human!) by himself, and the day he was handed a living person would be the day he faked his death and fled the kingdom.

He pressed a few buttons, tried not to cut himself on several rusty levers, and the rail obediently started itself up with a few revs and puffs.

The beast hummed contentedly at the noise.

The cart began to run along the track, disappearing from his view and descending into the inky black cave. He heard the gate creak open and he heard it creak close. And then he heard the beast begin to eat.

They weren't nice sounds by any stretch of the imagination - ugly rips and wet squelches of flesh - but Tommy had been at the job for a while and was long used to it. He settled in and waited for the creature to finish its meal.

"So how was your day, Keeper?"

Tommy hummed. "About the same as it always is. My master told me that the king will be coming in soon for a performance review, but I've no idea when that might be."

The beast paused its munching before hesitantly starting again a moment later. "I - why?"

He shrugged, assuming the monster could see him from the dark. "Something about me holding down this job the longest out of anyone before."

"Hm."

"I don't understand why that would intrigue the king. And no offense to you personally - "

"Uh huh," the monster sarcastically interjected -

" - but this isn't exactly the career path I'd have chosen. If I knew how to transfer I probably would have. Honestly - I have no idea how the others could have quit this job. I was under the impression that this is the sort of thing you do until you die."

It laughed at that.

Tommy sighed.

He was quiet for a few moments, a question sitting heavy on his tongue.

He shouldn't ask. It's impolite.

The monster shifted around. "Spit it out."

He gave the darkness an accusatory look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a huff of laughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're doing that thing where you want to say something but are worried about what I'll think. It would be adorable if I wasn't desperate for decent conversation."

"Fuck you." He said it with a smile.

"Well? Are you going to say or not?"

He scrubbed at his face. Fuck it. "What were your other keepers like?"

The beast went silent for several long moments.

Shit. "You don't have to answer if you - "

"I didn't much care for them."

Tommy didn't say a word.

"The feeling was mutual." It sighed heavily. "You're a much better replacement, Sunshine."

"I'm sorry for asking."

The beast purred. "Don't be, dear. I pressed you. And I don't mind answering." It jostled the cart. "And I'm done eating."

Tommy nodded and powered up the control panel again. The cart began to recede. 

It appeared from the darkness, picked completely clean and shiny as if it never been covered in blood at all.

It scared him a little, how quickly the monster could eat such a large amount, but he dismissed those thoughts as easily as they came. When would that ever affect him?

He checked the clock. He still had a few hours before he had to report back. "Do you mind if I stay with you longer?"

The monster laughed conspiratorially. "Oh, but that's against the rules," it said in a high mockery of his voice.

He flushed.

He had been terrified of the monster when they first met. He gave any excuse to leave the beast as soon as he could, including that the rules specified that spending unnecessary time with it was prohibited. That was true, but no one would have known if he chose to linger. In hindsight, it had been terribly obvious how afraid he was and he's only embarrassed that the monster pretended to believe him.

"You're the worst."

"And you still want to spend time with me?"

Tommy blew a raspberry at the darkness, earning a few laughs.

It was comfortably quiet for a few seconds before the monster spoke again. "Why are you curious about my old keepers?"

He tugged at his fingers. "Do you know how I ended up here?"

"You never talk about it."

He frowned. "And I never will," he responded coldly. It never gave up asking. "But do you know, generally, how someone ends up working this kind of job?"

The monster was quiet. "Yes."

Tommy didn't say anything for a minute. "The king is very angry with me. I don't want to see him again. However the other keepers escaped..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. If the king requests an audience with me, it isn't for any good reason."

~

When the king acquired his monster, he hired out help to feed the thing and keep it under control. He made sure the beast ate lavishly, but now matter what they fed it, it never seemed like to satiate the creature. But it hadn't died of starvation and that was good enough. When its caretakers started to disappear, it wasn't difficult to guess what happened.

But acknowledging the problem would mean addressing it too, and the king simply didn't care. In the end, he realized he had the perfect way to quietly do away with those he needed gone. He sourced this job, with its one hundred percent rate of 'job abandonment' to political adversaries or people growing affluent enough to take his throne.

Which takes him to the present day, and a rather interesting problem.

When some servant boy had spilled a bottle of red wine down his front during a gala several years prior, the king had been so angry that he threw the child in a dungeon and left him there. When the monster's then-keeper inevitably disappeared, the king came to the boy and grimly informed him of his punishment.

He hadn't expected the child to last more than a couple of days. He'd even picked out his replacements.

But lo and behold, the boy remained present at his job post for a week. And then that week became several, and those several became months, and those months became a year and a half.

The king couldn't understand why it hadn't eaten him yet. He was fifteen at this point, certainly the youngest to feed the monster. Was it waiting for him to grow up? Did it want to watch him sprout up before it made its attack? It was perfectly sentient, and the king knew this even though he denied it upfront. Shouldn't the monster trust that the sooner it finished its current keeper, the sooner he would be replaced by another?

Had there been someone who had managed to bring this creature to subservience? If so, then the king took special interest.

And if not, then it was long overdue that the servant boy be put to death.

~

Being a human's lapdog wasn't a dignified experience, but it was a fed one. Driders were megafauna, making it hard to get enough food. It certainly didn't help that the human kingdom believed everything was its rightful property and saw driders as a threat to them owning more than they could eat.

Wilbur certainly didn't enjoy his life, and he was almost always hungry anyway, but at least he was alive.

He lived in a dungeon below the castle, but he wasn't sure what a castle was and he barely understood the concept of a dungeon. He hadn't seen the sunshine in years, and his keeper was his only company.

He liked his keeper. The boy was kind. He didn't threaten to pee in Wilbur's food or throw rocks at him. He asked him how his day was, and even made it a point to handle the meat carefully as he transported it into the cart. He seemed lonely, and made up excuses to stay. He was a cute little thing, and Wilbur wanted to stick him into his brooding pouch and keep him there.

~

The cart rolled into Wilbur's enclosure, and he greedily snatched it up and began to eat.

His keeper sat at a table in the light.

Wilbur finished his food in a few seconds and toyed with the cart. He always made it seem as if it took him longer to eat than it did.

"Do you have a family?"

The boy froze at the question. "Why do you ask?"

Wilbur pouted even though he knew he couldn't be seen. "We've known each for so long. I don't even know what your name is. Can't I know just a little?"

His keeper awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with his fingers. "Oh... I guess you're right."

Wilbur's heart leapt.

"I don't have a family."

"Oh." Shit.

"Yeah."

What was he supposed to say?

"I don't have a family either."

His keeper peered into the darkness. "What are you?"

Wilbur smiled. He skittered to the bars of his cage and leaned against them, towering over the boy, though he had no idea. "Would you like to play twenty questions?"

"You're so lame, seriously, what are you? I don't even know what you look like."

I could show you, he wanted to say.

Coming out of his cage was easy. The king assumed it could hold him but no one actually checked. And aside from his keeper, no one had been in his dungeon for years. In reality, the bars had long been bent open and Wilbur could get out whenever he pleased.

It wouldn't be difficult to come through the bars and present himself to his keeper. Pick the little figure up in his hands and take him into his cage with him.

When he'd eaten his previous keepers, they'd always been replaced. If he captured his current keeper and stored him away in his brooding pouch, then he'd never be lonely again.

It was tempting.

"That's probably for the best," he said. He stepped away from the bars of his cage and curled up on the floor.

He liked his keeper. He wanted him to be happy. Just because Wilbur was stuck in a cage didn't mean he had to be as well.

"Do you think I'd be scared of you?"

Wilbur looked down at himself, at his large stature and eight legs. His fangs came down to his mid chin. "I think you'd be terrified, dear."

His keeper smiled. "I don't think so. I have a suspicion that you're just harmless."

His heart melted. Oh stars, he wanted to eat this kid.

He massaged his aching brood pouch. "You're sweet, Sunshine."

~

The cart was left in his cage while he was sleeping. He woke up confused, spying it in the corner of his enclosure and wondered why he'd been fed overnight. Where was his keeper? His mind jumped to the worst conclusions.

He found him inside the cart. Bound and gagged and looking terrified beyond all reason.

"Oh, Sunshine," he murmured.

His words had the opposite intended effect, his keeper starting to panic and writhe at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, hey... Calm down, okay? I'll get you out of there." He reached into the cart and picked him up in his hand.

Despite the circumstance, his heart soared. This was the closest they'd ever been.

The figure was tiny in his palm, and still struggling.

Wilbur quickly undid his bounds, being mindful of his sharp claws against the human's body. As soon as his hands were free, he was clawing at the gag around his mouth.

"Don't eat me! Please, do not eat me..."

Wilbur's stomach dropped.

"What? Sunshine, why would I eat you?"

The boy continued to sob.

Wilbur cupped him to his chest and headed towards the bars of his enclosure. He expertly clambered through and came out the other side, his skin exposed to the light for the first time in more than a year.

"Dear? Can you talk to me?" He stroked his head with his thumb and brought him eye level. "Why were you in my feeding cart?"

His keeper stared at him in shock, and it was then that he remembered his keeper had never truly seen him before.

A hot wave of embarassment and self consciousness overtook him.

He awkwardly set his little human on his table and receded back into his enclosure.

"Sunshine?" He prompted once back in his cage. "Are you..."

"Could - could you get out the whole time?"

Wilbur's mouth went dry. "I - well, yes, I could but - "

His keeper stumbled off the table and hit the ground with a nasty sounding crack.

Wilbur sprang to his claws and scrambled forward. He popped his head out between the bars and stared down at his little keeper. "Are you okay?"

The human stared up at him with terror on his face and scrambled backwards, running for the door.

"Shit, shit, wait, I'm sorry! Please stay, please, Sunshine - "

The door slammed behind him with a resounding crack and Wilbur flinched backwards.

~ ~ ~ 🕸

i used to love drider aus back in 2020 🕷️🕷️🕷️

just a freaky little guy whose half dude and half Fear. potential off the charts.

my tag list got lost when my computer was annihilated (</3) but let me know in replies if you want to get @'d and i'll make a new one

oh yeah link to the writing prompt and story i did fill out

[retphienix]

hm. Since the last time I played a DS game tumblr seems to have adjusted how it handles awkward dimensions on images because it's not really letting me format this well AT ALL. It looks alright in my drafts but it's a mess while posting so apologies if it comes out messy.

Oh well. I'll deal.

So! After much deliberation, mental anguish, anxiety, holiday fun, and sleep I've decided on what I'd like the next full playthrough to be for the blog and I think it'll be an interesting one. So here's the pre-game ramble!

Final Fantasy Tactics is my favorite game. I've said it before, I'll say it again plenty of times up until that finally changes and based on this and that I kind of assume it simply won't.

Whereas my list of favorite games is a miasma of titles with no clear order; There's no "second" or "fifth" favorite it's all just "favorites"- there IS one game that gets the throne and it's the original Final Fantasy Tactics for the PSX and it's PSP remaster.

I say that purely because I'll take any excuse to bring up FFT.

Oh but also because it plays into the conversation on the series as a whole (nailed it).

While FFT has remained my favorite game since I was a kid, the "series" lost me almost immediately.

I was handed a GBA with FFTA in it while hanging out with my cousin one day and I distinctly remember my take away being "Why in the heck is this tutorial snowball fight so long, I'm bored. Wait? We're in like a fantasy world? That's NOT what Ivalice is! This is stupid."

Overly dismissive, but the point was that my first impression as a kid was disappointment that the sequel was some strange childlike dream while the first one was a serious epic with death and intrigue going on. I didn't appreciate the shift in tone, and so it took me many years to finally come back and give it a shot on this very blog.

It's fine.

I don't like it; I find it's gameplay vastly inferior to the original, the classes far less interesting, and the story is just painfully immature; mostly felt like they tried to write child characters but tripped headfirst into 'unrealistic bratty selfish characters' which, whoops, you messed up :/

That's kind of the point though, FFTA was clearly meant to smooth out the sharp edges of the genre for a younger audience (ignore the fact that age wise I 'was' that audience- FFT already got it's mitts on me)- the things I find to be lesser were made that way by design and for many people that game holds an important part in their mind-palace because it simply Clicked with them.

But the thing is, while I was wrapping up my FFTA playthrough for the blog I was told the sequel was simply "Better".

...

I was also told it was worse~ So lord help me if that's the case.

I wasn't really given context- I sure as hell don't know a single thing about FFTA2, but I'm game.

I am more than willing to give it a shot, give it a real honest try where I judge it by its own merits, and who knows?

Maybe I'll really like it, I mean I do like me a tactical RPG from time to time.

I feel like despite me editing this down like 4 times to make it not about FFTA, it keeps becoming me slipping in my annoyance with FFTA. I do genuinely think FFTA is "fine" it's just not for me.

ANYWHO. Time to finally give FFTA2 a shot, y'know?

Right out the gate I think we're doing the "fall into a fantasy world" thing again which isn't surprising. These are both FFT(A) titles and I already knew that A and A2 had a hell of a lot more in common than either did with the original.

I like getting to pick random things on my summer vacation wish list and having my guy toss in a cocky comment about the homework promise and even cap it off with "That sounds convincing"- that already gives me a pretty fun idea of who Luso is, kind of a trouble maker perhaps? I like this :)

[thatgoblin]

RE Cul De Sac 1A

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Pairings: Leon x Chris

Summary: Leon finally is out from under the government's thumb and is trying to find his place with his new found freedom. A call from an old friend lets him know that he has a place if he doesn't want to stay in D.C. anymore. It just so happens to be with the mostly retired BSAA captain.

Warnings: None

Leon had never felt so exhausted before. Usually he was good with catching a few winks of sleep on the plane between missions and home, but he had passed out completely on the plane to the non-descript city that held his new life. Thankfully he was left alone even with the soft snores drifting around the cabin.

Ears back and eyes narrowed as his tail flicked around to warn anyone who may cross him, he trudged through the airport towards baggage claim. All of his stuff from his apartment had already been packed up and shipped, leaving him with just a few personal supplies and clothes as he finished up his leave of absence paperwork.

He hadn't quit the DOS, but he managed to secure a good few months of leave that would let him actually rest and have a life. With new people in charge, it was easy to get his leave approved as well as a change of address. Hell, Claire had said she'd get Chris and the others to put in a good word for him at the BSAA if it meant he'd stay off of active duty for a while.

While he appreciated the offer, he was going to take his time off first. It was an elusive animal and now that he had it in his hands, he didn't want to lose it.

Once at the carousel of bags, Leon grabbed his before pulling out his phone.

'Message when you get out front. We'll pull up to the curb to get you.'

Tucking his phone away, Leon headed out to the front. The airport itself wasn't actually that big, at least compared to others he'd travelled to. It was a straight shot from the gates to the baggage claim and then the pick up lanes outside. In fact it was a relief to be so simple. No trams or stairs to take, no one to pass because they're going slower than everyone else. It took him just five minutes to get from his gate to the front and that was when he stopped for his suitcase.

Standing at the curb, he took his phone out again and shot a quick text to Claire.

'I'm outside.'

The late September air felt so different from the muggy oceanside air in D.C. It was soft and had a slight breeze. Not scorching hot but not biting cold. It was that transition time where it was perfect to have the windows open all day and night before autumn truly hit.

A red truck pulled Leon from his thoughts as it stopped in front of him. Before he could even register who was in it, the passenger side door flew open and Claire jumped up to squeeze him.

"You made it!" She cried, grinning before letting go. Leon had no time to react as she grabbed his luggage to throw in the back seat of the cab then climbed in after it.

"Hey," Chris said, smiling at him and waving from behind the wheel.

"Hey," he replied, climbing into the truck. Once the door closed, Chris pulled away from the sidewalk.

"How was your flight?" Claire asked, leaning forward between the front seats onto the console. Her tail was wagging briskly, thumping against the seats as her ears were perked and ready to listen.

"It was okay. Slept through most of it," he said. "Just finished up paperwork at the office the night before and only got a few hours of sleep."

"Well, now you'll be able to catch up on your cat naps!" Claire said with a giggle.

"If I weren't so tired, I would give a sassy come back," Leon said with a snort as he shook his head.

"Ignore her," Chris said. "She's had 3 cups of coffee and has cleaned my house at least twice in the last 12 hours. Jill has kicked her out for the day because she's tried of Claire trying to rearrange the dishware in the kitchen."

"I just wanted to have things perfect for when you got here," Claire said with a heavy sigh. "Besides, Chris' house needed it. We even decorated it a bit better too. Now it actually looks like a home and not some squatters place. I swear Chris, sometimes I wonder if you like anything outside of work."

"You're one to talk," Chris said. "If it wasn't for Jill, your place would look like a frat house."

"No it wouldn't and you know that," Claire grumbled. "You're just mad that I have better taste than you."

"Oh no, whatever will I do?" He said, rolling his eyes as he pulled onto the highway.

"Probably have Piers invade and turn it into a military museum if you're not careful," Claire said with a snort.

"You talk too much," Chris huffed.

"And what's wrong with that?" Claire asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't know, but maybe the fact that Leon just got in the truck and he's already nodded off despite you chattering," Chris said with a smirk.

Looking at Leon, Claire say the cat boy had indeed nodded off. His face rested against his fist, propped up by his elbow on the window sill.

"Poor guy," Claire said, softening her voice to let her friend rest. "Probably hasn't had a decent night of sleep in a while."

"I'd say it's been a lot longer than just a while," Chris said, his own voice lowering.

The drive home wasn't that long, 20 minutes in the late morning traffic. Claire had settled down, letting Leon rest. Planning to do a few things together could wait. She had been so caught up in her excitement of having her friend move in next door that she forgot the hell he'd exited just a few weeks ago.

It had been rushed for sure, making time and space to get his things there before he did, then trying to figure out what to put in storage and what to put in his room. Leon had sold most of his furniture, really only bringing a few large items like his own TV and bed. His dishes and such were either sold or given away as well, making the move a bit easier.

He was given the guest room in Chris' house, a Dutch Colonial that had been the first house in the Cul de Sac, Albert Wesker's home was a recent addition next door to it.

That was how Chris found out about the older home next to him. Albert had talked about how there were bids to tear the house down because it was so old, built in the 30's and wasn't care of very well after the original owners passed away. The others had purchased the spots of land shortly afterwards before the Home Owners Associate could swoop in and try to put restrictions on what they could build. While theirs were built from the ground up, Chris took his as a project.

It was nearly three months of renovations, which was pretty quick considering how much work had been done, before he could move in completely. It took about the same time for the others' homes to be built.

"Should we wake him up?" Chris asked as he pulled into the driveway of his house.

"I mean, we can't let him sleep in the truck all day," Claire said.

Chris rolled his eyes at his sister who shrugged. Reaching over, he shook Leon a bit by the shoulder.

"Hey, we're home," he said.

The blond tabby opened his eyes before taking a deep breath and stretching.

"Cool." Opening the door, he stepped out and waited for Clair to hand him his luggage. Before she could, Chris was out and had it in his hands. "I can carry my own things," he called after the shepherd.

"Well, it's your first day home," Chris said, turning back to give the other a smile. "Better get used to having someone around for help."

"Does he always do that?" Leon asked, looking back at Claire.

"Basically my whole life," she said with a nod. The two followed the older man into the house, Leon taking in his surroundings the whole time. Inside, he was given a quick tour as there were only a few rooms on the first floor. The second floor was the bedrooms with a bathroom and shower, then the basement for storage.

Leon's room was across the hall from Chris', which was a small comfort of sorts for him.

"I'll go ahead and let you get settled in. I'm sure Claire will let you get some rest before barging in and dragging you off somewhere," Chris said, setting his bags on the bed.

"I was going to let him have the rest of the day to chill out," Claire said, crossing her arms. "Tomorrow is a different story though."

Leon raised a brow at the two, wondering if it had been such a good idea to move in with the Redfield siblings being so close in proximity.

"I'm going to pass out now. I'll try to be awake by dinner," Leon said.

"If you're not, that's okay. Let me know if you need anything," Chris said with a soft smile and a nod.

"Thanks," Leon said, getting enough of a breath in before Claire was wrapping herself around him again but tighter. "Jesus-"

"I'm glad you're here!" She cried into his chest, pulling back to smile up at him.

"Glad I'm here too," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. It was what she wanted to hear and while Leon himself wasn't certain if he was or not, time would only tell.

Master List of Drabbles

Tag List: @abysswhiskey11 @interviewedchicken @lonely-af-fangirl @girl-obsessed-with-things @mmmm----15 @depressedthebluefox @whimsywispsblog @singingsiren98 @parkerschurros @chrissyreid @bohica160 @death-is-beautiful @mittensdun @ravenrune @bsaa-bitch

[aureatesvn]

Economy//Jaebeom

Content: humour, fluff(?) if you squint

Model!Jaebeom has never been so confused.

Or,

An avid display of the frustrations of the rich (and supposedly famous).

People came and went like clockwork, each individual blurring into a mass flow of luggage and sweatpants and crying children, lord save him from the crying children. The airport was just a disaster waiting to happen, but he found an awkward kind of comfort in the timeless feel of the place. It was the same routine every time, arrive a few hours early, pass through security, don his trusty bucket hat and find somewhere to wait. With a book, preferably. This time was no different, aside from the… minor intrusion.

It had been less than an hour since he'd made himself comfortable in his isolated corner of the seating area, it was a nice spot and he was quite proud of himself for finding it, to be honest. He'd scoured almost a quarter of the airport (the quarter he was confined to), and it had taken exactly 38 minutes, but he'd eventually gravitated towards the large windows where the morning sunlight was streaming in from. A few moments later, he'd snagged the perfect spot. It was sort of a treasure-hunt type game to him, and he'd undeniable succeeded.

Unfortunately now he was feeling dozy, the warmth of the sun warming him, and the ebbing of people passing by allowing him some peace. It was the perfect setting for a nap, and he'd all but given up on trying to focus on his book. He needed a cold drink, which meant he had to go find a cold drink… He surveyed the area for any nearby cafés or bars, and was left with a single option he could make out if he squinted into the distance, that's where he'd have to go then. 

With a resigned sigh, he started collecting his things, unwilling to part with his spot, when a brilliant idea struck him. Possibly the best idea he'd had in his entire life, really. 

He returned the things to their original places, jacket across the back of the chair, bag (which he'd taken his phone and wallet out of) planted decisively on the seat. He considered leaving his hat as well, but eventually decided that was a step too far, and stepped back to assess his work. 

Well, the seat was indisputably taken, and anyone who would argue otherwise was either blind (in which case he'd happily offer up the seat anyway), or specifically looking to cause trouble. He possibly could have worried a bit more about theft and such, but as it was, he took it as a test of the upstanding airport security and didn't think much more of it. 

Happy with his spot secured, he smiled to himself and ambled his way to the café, peering back every so often to check no one was getting too close to his place. He had one or two stares at how he was forced to angle his head in a rather ostrich-esque way, but it was most definitely worth it. Eventually he was too far away to see, and focused on getting his drink and getting back as soon as possible. 

He was halfway back with his lime soda when he saw it. Actually, he'd seen it a bit before then, but had been in denial about the rather horrible turn of events, and so hadn't quite believed his eyes. He most definitely believed them now. As he drew closer, the scene he was nearing didn't get any less horrifying. In fact, when he was close enough to feel the need to cautiously side-step his way to his belongings, it was decidedly more awful than he'd anticipated from a distance. 

There was someone right there. 

Not on his chair, his things were still perfectly in place, untouched, but at the uncomfortably close distance of the very-next-seat along, there was a person. And all their things. 

He stood over his seat, trying to process the events that led up to this, not quite fully understanding how the obviously taken seat hadn't deterred this female (he thought she was female, at least) from making herself at home in the 2 seat radius surrounding the chair. Least of all, what had prompted her to sit right next- 

'Is there a problem?'

Yes yes yes yes yes absolutely, please leave.

'Sorry?' was all he could choke out.

She was looking up at him, but somehow managed to be looking down her nose, and he had enough sense in him to recognise she felt rich. Or maybe it was her small(ish) collection of branded items. Fendi? Jackson would have a field day. 

'I asked if there was a problem? I don't appreciate being ogled at.'

He was at a loss for words, he hadn't expected her to be so… brusque. Usually strangers at the airport interacted with a stilted politeness, lots of half-bows, please and thank yous, maybe she didn't get the memo? Taking a sip of his lime soda, he noted that Saint Laurent was also present within her collection. How ironic. 

'Ah, no, I wasn't looking at you, these' he gestures to his bag, 'are my belongings…'

He's not quite sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it absolutely wasn't for her to look possibly more offended than she had been before he'd spoken. Maybe she'll move if I upset her enough? 

As he half heartedly checks himself for thinking such a thing, she swivels her head back and forth between him and his things, the sunlight glinting off of her hair.

'They're,' she points at his seat, 'yours?'           

She points at him, disbelief written across her face. They stay like that in silence for a few moments, at an impasse.

He coughs awkwardly and takes another sip.

'Yes…?' 

At this point he's thinking it maybe wasn't worth it, and it would be easier for him to just find a different spot, without the oddly confrontational scenery.

'Are you sure?'

He chokes on his lime soda. Through spluttering and coughing and the highly unpleasant burning (fizzing) at the back of his throat, he resolutely decides he's not letting her chase him away from his spot. He got there first anyway. 

Fighting mindset truly in place, he sets her with a condescending smile, and drawls out his question like he would to address a rather irritating child.

'You don't believe that the bag and jacket that I put on that chair, walked over to collect, and said were mine are… mine?'

He sees the realisation dawn on her, and fights the urge to laugh (not because he wanted to be polite, but because his throat was still tingling and he was sure he'd end up coughing again if he laughed at her). She pouts and waves a manicured hand between them, shaking her head.

'No, no, it's just people travelling... economy… tend to…y'know...have...' 

People travelling eco- What?

He blinks at her, once again unsure what to say. 

'WAIT- Not- Not that economy is a bad thing or anything, that's not what I meant-'

A part of him is relieved that there are obviously people out there who are far worse than him at meeting strangers. The other part of him is bitter that he had to meet one of them. He's certain the ice in his soda has melted at this point, and curses her for (if nothing else) leaving him with a diluted room-temperature drink.

'Look, I'll just take my things and-' he spots a relatively empty block across the seating area from them, and gestures to make sure she sees. She blinks up at him owlishly, as if waiting for him to go, and he sighs tiredly. The polite thing to do is to offer to move instead. 

After approximately 15 seconds, he gives up, collects his jacket and bag, and trundles over to the less sunny, less quiet, and overall less comfortable seating block. 

He spends the next two hours trying to lose himself in his book, checking the flight status and complaining to the guys about the awful encounter.

At roughly 11:45 he finally hears the boarding announcement,

Flight KE418 to Seoul will be boarding shortly, please proceed to gate 117.

And by some sheer luck, he finds himself at the very front of the queue when the man at the desk starts checking passports and boarding passes. 

He practically skips his way down the corridor to the plane, buzzing with excitement. He's almost home. The flight attendant smiles at him, checks his pass and escorts him to an aisle seat, and when he takes off his hat to push back his hair, there's a barely noticeable twitch of her lip to show that she recognises him before she disappears to attend to another passenger. 

He sinks into his seat, browsing movie options on the monitor, and is just about to put headphones on when he hears it.

'Oh, thank you, sorry, this seat? Thanks…'

That voice did not go with that meek tone at all. 

He looks up to see her nervously shuffling down the right-hand aisle, and slowing down when the attendant does, one seat ahead. Please no, let me have my flight in peace, lord if you have any mercy…

'This is seat 04, if you have further requirements or any issues, just let us know.'

As it turns out, the lord didn't have any mercy free today. 

He takes in her slight frame over the divider, made to look smaller by her hunched shoulders and clasped hands, before realising she's not yet sat down because she's been staring at him. Great, now all he had to do was figure out if she recognised him because she'd chased him away earlier, or because she'd seen his face in a magazine. Or both. 

He decides to take initiative, and smile politely at her, bowing his head. She's already slowly turning a deep pink and, somewhere in the back of his head, he thinks she's quite cute when she's flustered. 

With that thought, he decides he's in a good enough mood to tease her, and acknowledges that there's no way she won't have recognised his clothes (if not his face) from earlier.

'So, economy huh?'

[pocket-clown]

the man at the gate;

// original request: what would have happened if kid Bruce had secretly run off to see that odd man who was at the gate earlier and claimed to be his brother? Because Bruce always wanted an older brother. Kind and sweet family bonding

AN: This was really, really cute and fun to write - thank you! 

I apologize that this took so long to get out; while I had fun writing it, it was kinda tough for me for some reason? I think it was just a matter of actually trying to figure out how I think both Bruce and Arthur would interact with each other, which was tough since Bruce didn’t get a ton of screen time so we didn’t get to see much of his personality. 

Please note that this is not x reader. There’s no mention of reader/Arthur’s s/o in this; it’s just Bruce trying to bond with Arthur, them both attempting to make sense of the whole situation.

 I know it’s still pretty much unconfirmed whether Bruce and Arthur are actually half brothers brothers or not, but for the sake of simplicity and this piece, we’ll say that they are. 

Words: 3,553 

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"No amount of pleases is going to change anyone's mind, Bruce. You need to keep away from that man," Alfred spoke, his tone one of hushed urgency as he ushered Bruce back to the Wayne's manor. "He's dangerous, and he had no reason to show up here and bother you like he did."

"But he wasn't bothering me. He was nice, he was -" 

"That's enough, Bruce. We don't know what his intentions were - I’m glad I got there when I did, and I don't think it's unreasonable to assume that he may come back. I'll tell your father what happened, and you need to stay inside for the rest of the night. Understood?" 

Alfred's question wasn't even a question - Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to argue, even if he tried to. So like Alfred was it to tell him to do something and leave no room for opposition that Bruce didn’t even bother trying to explain that all the man did was dance for him; Alfred had only showed up at the wrong time, after the funny stuff had ended. He didn’t hurt him in even the slightest; if anything, the way Alfred had yanked the flower wand that he was given away bothered him more than anything else did. 

It wasn’t fair, Bruce thought. It wasn’t every day that a clown showed up - he was a clown, wasn’t he? The red nose, the magic trick, that’s what clowns do, right? - just to try and make him laugh. Sure he knew of clowns, but he never actually got to meet one before. Clowns were big news now, he knew from what was happening on the news and the conversations he overheard. People dressed as clowns were causing problems nowadays - maybe that’s why Alfred was so angry at the man? But it still didn’t make any sense to Bruce; the man didn’t seem loud, or angry, or foolish like the clowns causing problems were so often described as, no; he seemed the opposite - he almost seemed sad, the more Bruce thought about it. He seemed happy when Bruce told him his name, and he looked at Bruce like he knew him.

Did he know him? 

“...I’m Arthur,” the man had said.

He didn’t know anyone named Arthur, though.

It seemed like they wanted to keep something from him while they spoke, Alfred and Arthur; they were whispering, which is what people always did when they were telling secrets, but they were still loud enough that he could hear a little bit of what they were saying.

“My mother is …… She used to work here years ago,...”

“Thomas Wayne is my father.” 

Which was something that made no sense to Bruce. Thomas Wayne was his father, so he couldn’t be Arthur’s father, too, because then that would make them brothers - and he didn’t have any sisters or brothers. He never did; he was always alone, and being the only child of the Wayne’s was hard. It was so hard that more often than not, he wished he had an older brother to play with, like he saw in other families; it always looked so fun, but the closest thing to a brother he’s ever had was Alfred, and he was just their butler, and a butler wasn’t a brother. 

The more Alfred spoke with Arthur, the more upset Arthur seemed to get. He’d seemed so sure, so genuine in his statement that Thomas was his father, and when Alfred laughed - laughed! - in his face about it, that’s what really seemed to set Arthur off. Once Arthur had run off, Alfred refused to really answer any of Bruce’s questions, and he was left much more confused than he had initially been when first meeting Arthur.

Was his father also Arthur’s father? 

Did he have an older brother? One that his parents had kept secret from him, all this time?

Maybe. 

He kind of liked the idea of Arthur being his brother.

“I was just trying to make him smile.” Was what Arthur had said, and he seemed disappointed that he didn’t get Bruce to do so, just like he seemed upset that he was getting shouted at by Alfred for even trying, who then threatened to call the police despite there, at least in Bruce’s opinion, being no real reason to. Arthur hadn’t hurt him, despite Alfred thinking that he did. He did hurt Alfred, though - but he stopped, didn’t he? After grabbing Alfred like he had, the second he looked at Bruce and realized that he was still watching, he’d let go and run off without saying goodbye. Surely he couldn’t be that bad - truly bad people don’t just stop being bad like that. 

Alfred had told him to go upstairs to his room so that he and his father could speak and they’d know that Bruce was safe, but he didn’t want to go upstairs. He didn’t want to stay inside - what he wanted was to go back outside, to the gate, to see Arthur again. Alfred had said he might come back, didn’t he? What if he did? He was always taught to not talk to strangers, but he knew his name, and if Arthur really was his brother, then they weren’t really strangers then, were they? Besides, even if Arthur was dangerous, the gate had kept them separate. He wouldn’t be able to actually hurt him, which is something Bruce doubt he’d even want to do anyway.

After a minute of contemplation, once Alfred had left Bruce on his own in the foyer, he’d made up his mind. He didn’t care if anyone got mad at him for it, he was going to go see Arthur, his maybe-brother again. 

As soon as the coast was clear and everyone was preoccupied with talk about tomorrow’s benefit, Bruce slipped out the door, walking as quickly as he could down the pathway that branched out from the front of the manor to the large iron gates at the far end. Though his heart sank when he realized that Arthur wasn’t there, he figured that he just had to be patient; if he waited long enough then surely Arthur would come back - Alfred said that he would, and he tended to be right about a lot of things.

Aside from whether or not Arthur would come back and when, Bruce wasn’t sure what they could even talk about. He wondered how old Arthur was - he looked a lot older than Bruce was, which just made him wonder even more; if they have the same father, did they have the same mother then, too? Why did his parents hide that he might have an older brother from him? He’d have to ask Arthur when - if - he came back. Arthur was an adult, and adults usually knew all of the answers to things. 

He’d lost track of time in regard to how long he’d been out waiting in the manor’s playground before he saw movement far out on the other side of the gate. Arthur was brave for coming back, Bruce thought, and given by his slow, almost hesitant, footsteps did Bruce assume that Arthur was very reluctant about doing so, in fear that Alfred may call the police like he said he would if he was caught again.

But Bruce was glad that he came back, and he hoped that the reason he did so was that they could meet each other - for real this time.

As if to mirror their first encounter, Bruce slid down the fireman’s pole that was at the end of the playhouse before making his way around the bushes that lined the fence, once again returning to the main gate where Arthur was waiting for him. 

"Are you really a clown?" Was the first thing Bruce asked once Arthur knelt down, his hands coming to rest on the bars of the gate that separated them once more. He no longer had his red nose on and the wand of flowers was long gone, having been thrown somewhere, but that didn’t matter. 

“I am - it’s what I do for work.” Arthur smiled softly up at him. “Do you like clowns?” 

“I’ve never met one before. Only you. Where’s your nose?” Bruce asked, a question which Arthur hummed bemusedly at before he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the aforementioned ball of foam.

“Right here,” His fingers lightly brushed against its surface as he looked down at it, seemingly lost in thought for a second. Before Bruce could ask what he was doing though, slowly did Arthur reach through the gate and hold the prop out to him. “But you can have it.”

Bruce was hesitant to take it - if Arthur was really a clown, then didn’t he need it?

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked once he took it from him, feeling awfully curious about the ball as he turned it over in his hand, taking care to not squeeze it. He’d never actually got to see one of the things in person before, let alone touch one, and right away did he thank Arthur for it.

Bruce was a bit doubtful of Arthur’s nod of affirmation, though. If Arthur really was a clown, then didn’t he need it for work? It reminded him of the time he’d asked his father if he could have a special stamp that he saw him use a lot; one that left a seal reading their family name on whatever it was pressed onto, and he’d thought it was the coolest thing - but no, his father had told him, he needed it for work. He’d given him a smaller, less important one, but it wasn’t the same. 

He figured that if Arthur was giving him the real thing, the one he needed for work, then that meant that Arthur must’ve been really kind and generous, two things Bruce’s parents always tried to teach him to be.

“Bruce? Are - ”

 “Are you really my brother?”

He felt bad for interrupting Arthur, but he couldn’t hold his question back anymore. He wanted to know the truth so, so badly - and he was hopeful; hopeful that not only would Arthur would say yes, yes he really was his brother, but that he wanted to be, too. 

“ - ‘Cause if you are, then you don’t really look a lot like me.” 

The way Arthur let out a laugh at Bruce’s comment surprised him, and for a second he wondered if maybe he said the wrong thing. Arthur looked much, much older than he did and not only that, but their hair, their eyes, even their noses looked so different that Bruce doubt anyone would be able to tell that they were related at all! It was something that had bothered him a bit, since he’d first learned that Arthur may or may not be his brother; people who were related were supposed to look alike, at least a little bit, and he didn’t look much like Arthur, unlike his friends and their brothers.

The more he thought about it, the more jealous of some of his friends he felt; neither of them, neither Bruce nor Arthur, had any siblings (or maybe Arthur did, but Bruce hadn’t any idea), and neither of them really seemed all too happy, when Bruce really thought about it. He was the only child of the Wayne’s, and though it seemed like Arthur didn’t have nearly as much money as they did, both of them knew what it was like to be lonely. The whole concept of even having a brother was wildly intimidating and equally as confusing for him, and he wondered if Arthur felt the same way.

“It’s all new for me, too, you know.” Arthur spoke up after a moment of silence from both of them, getting Bruce’s attention. “I’ve never had any brothers or sisters before, either. It’s always just been me and my mom, and I don’t think I really look a lot like her, either.” 

“I don’t know why my parents would hide it from me, though… They always tell me to tell the truth, so why would they lie, then?” 

Arthur seemed hesitant to answer this, given by how his gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and Bruce wondered if maybe Arthur didn’t understand it all too much, either.

“Honestly, I don’t get it either,” Arthur’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know it until just the other day. I think maybe they were worried how people would react to it since… since we’re so - different.” 

“But if you’ve never had a brother before, and I’ve never had a brother before, then we really aren’t so different, I don’t think. You’re just a lot older than I am. I could just ask them, then maybe... - do you think they’d tell me?”

“To be honest, I don’t think they’d tell anyone.” Arthur said with a slight shrug. “Sometimes adults keep secrets, secrets they don’t want anyone to know about, that they wouldn’t tell anyone. They probably think it’s better for you to… not know.” 

Something about the way Arthur spoke made Bruce wonder how much he really knew about the situation; he spoke like he was uncertain about what he was saying, like he might’ve been wrong, or like he didn’t want to say what he really thought. 

“But you’re here now, and you’re an adult, right? You could just go and ask them and then they’d have to tell you, too.”

Arthur chuckled at this. “I don’t think it would work out that way, really. They don’t really know me very well, and besides… I think right now, I’d rather talk to you for a little bit longer, if that’s okay with you.” 

Now this, Bruce really perked up at. Usually people only wanted to talk to his parents - not him. His parents, his dad, especially, were the really important ones, so it wasn’t very common for people to have more interest in talking to him than to them, and when they were, usually his parents were really strict about it. 

“A lot of people in Gotham are dangerous, Bruce.” His father would say. “So don’t talk to strangers, alright? I know you understand, you’re smart, so be safe, okay?”

“Really? I want to talk to you more, too, but I don’t want you to get in trouble if anyone sees,” Bruce said, and he could feel the worry in himself growing. Alfred was serious when he threatened to call the police; it wouldn’t be the first time they would have called the police on someone who was there when they shouldn’t have been, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but Bruce didn’t want it to be a time at all. Arthur wasn’t hurting anyone, and if anything, he felt it was unfair for his parents to keep them apart now that they had met. “I don’t know how we could talk more than this, though. My parents don’t like me going outside of the yard by myself.”

“I think this is okay, for now.” Arthur said, and Bruce figured that he probably was too nervous to talk a whole lot more, or that he didn’t know what else they could talk about, either.

“What kind of things are you supposed to do with your brother, anyway?” He almost felt a bit silly for asking such a thing, but it wasn’t like he really knew; he knew brothers played together, but how? Roughhousing, maybe, as his parents would call it, but there had to be other ways they spent time together - easier things, that maybe him and Arthur could do.

“Oh, well, they play games together, I think. What kind of games do you like, Bruce?”

That was a question Bruce had to think about; he never really had time to play many games. He had an Atari, a clunky thing really, but he was only able to play a little bit of it every day - his parents always said something about it being unhealthy to play video games too much. Him and his friends would play, sometimes, mostly board games - but him and Arthur couldn’t play any of those right now. Aside from that, he really spent most of his time with his parents, or in the manor’s playground, reading.

“I don’t play a lot, really. I can’t play video games too much, and when I’m with friends we only play board games - but I read a lot, though. Do you like to read?” Oh, he hoped Arthur liked to read! It was one of his favorite ways to spend time, so if Arthur liked to read, too, then that would mean they’d have something to talk about! 

Much to his disappointment, though, Arthur seemed almost embarrassed to be asked this. He sighed, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if he were trying to work out what he wanted to say. 

“I... don’t read a lot. It’s been a long time, actually. What do you like to read?” 

“Comics! And some other books, too. My parents always get me a lot - they say reading is good for you. My favorite one is about a kid who ends up in a troubled kingdom and he has to save it. I’ve read it more than any other book.” Bruce was excited now; he loved to talk about this sort of thing, and it wasn’t everyday that someone asked him about it. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that Arthur didn’t read, though - but honestly, that just meant that if they got closer then maybe he could share his books with him. He’d like them, Bruce thought. They were fun, some were even funny, and Arthur looked like he could use some cheering up. “Maybe one day you can read it. I think you’d really like the other stories, too.”

“Do you think so? I’d like that a lot.” 

Silence slowly crept in, and their conversation began to dwindle after that point. It was getting late, and Bruce knew that sooner than later he’d have to go back inside before anyone noticed that he was gone, and Arthur would have to leave before anyone came looking and saw that he was back. While he didn’t want Arthur to get in trouble, he didn’t want him to leave, either, and his heart sank the more he thought about it.

“I don’t want you to leave, I wish you could stay. You really don’t think my parents would talk to you?” He made no effort to hide his disappointment as he spoke, and he wrapped his hands around the bars of the gate, squeezing. He wished he could just pull them open and left Arthur in.

Arthur’s breath hitched, and with the way he tore his eyes away from Bruce’s and tightened his hold on the gate into a harsh grip made Bruce think that he was about to cry. 

“I... wish I didn’t have to go either, but my mother is home alone and I need to go see her, I try to take good care of her, she needs me - and it’s getting late now.” He still didn’t look up, and instead kept his focus on the ground between them. “You should probably go back”

Though he wanted protest - he wanted to stay out and talk longer - the last of the walkway lights came on which did nothing but confirm Arthur’s observation regarding the time. His parents would be looking for him, soon, and he didn’t want them to know he’d secretly gone out - nor did he want Arthur to get in trouble again.

“I guess you’re right. I’ll see you again, later, right? Please?” His voice was pleading as he looked at Arthur, who had gotten up from his spot.

“...Of course.”

Deep down, something told Bruce that it wasn’t going to happen, though. When would he even get the chance? Surely his parents would be keeping an eye on him more often now, and Alfred definitely would be much more watchful and probably insist that he stay inside more often than not. His parents were already very careful about who Bruce interacted with, and it didn’t take a genius to know that they’d probably be more so now, now that Alfred told them about his scuffle with Arthur. 

Before he could say anything else, though, Arthur turned around and left, his steps hurried as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Bruce debated on shouting for him, asking for him to come back, but the droplets of water that landed on his cheeks told him that it was starting to rain and that he needed to get back inside or else he’d get too wet to hide the fact that he’d sneaked out.

His steps began to quicken and he was practically running as the rain began to pour down on his way back to the house, and he took special care to keep one hand tucked underneath the chest of his jacket, wrapped tightly around the red clown nose Arthur had given him. He had more questions now than he did before, but they could wait. They could wait until he saw Arthur again.

... If he ever saw him again.

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taglist; 

@tahliamalfoydepp​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @smol-nari​ @ajokeformur-ray​

[damn-behzinga]

Toxic

Will's Friend Otis pt 2

Will Lenney Centric

part 1

summary- a look through social media as Will deals with his mental health

warnings- swearing, ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION, my terrible writing, toxic "fans"

Instagram ● @/willneisalpha

[A video of Will on the XO podcast from almost a year ago. He says, "Yeah my flat doesn't allow dog's." And then it shows a more recent clip of him saying, "So I got a dog recently."]

willneisalpha So we gonna brush over this? Also he got Otis really suddenly like no warning or hints? wtf

23 Comments

georgeisdaddy ikr I was sh00k for like 20000 hours

5d • 3 likes • Reply

alexisgaylolzor Does it matter though?

5d • 12 likes • Reply

● @/willsbigwilly

[A series of photos of Will and Otis posted only a few days after the original one. The photo is of Will holding Otis like a baby that was originally posted on his story. It's the same one except zoomed in on Otis' collar. The last photo has a massive circle round part of the tag.]

willsbigwilly does the collar say 'ESA' on it? that means emotional support animal? is Will alright?

Comments

jasmine I hope he's okay :( the idea of him needing an ESA makes me upset

3 hours • 21 likes • Reply

-

It had already been a tense day for Will, with his newest post causing an array of suspicion from his fans, he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He had debated whether to delete the post but that would raise more suspicion. He couldn't do that.

Otis had one hundred percent attention on his owner and, yet, Will didn't calm down.

Will also had several meetings today which meant he had to venture outside and face the busy streets. Despite all her best efforts, Gee couldn't stop Will from leaving the house. These meetings were important, Will could not miss them.

So, although she wasn't surprised that he had one, Gee was horrified to see pictures and videos of Will having a panic attack online.

Fans were already speculating that Will was hiding something, so this really made them worry. Gee noticed some 'fans' were becoming impatient and angry, demanding to know what was going on. Angry tweets and posts were flooding in to not only Will, but Gee and their entire friend group. Otis' "ESA" collar now caused more drama and confusion.

Will spiraled when he got home. Becoming quiet and ignoring everyone. He tried to stay of social media but his Twitter hadn't been this active since his last video blew up.

-

American Idiot @/losermajorwannabe

just saw @/willne having a panic attack????? what the fuck? not a big fan but jeez man leave it for your home 👀

[Video Attachment: The video is zoomed in on Will crying as some random person helps him alongside Otis. The person behind the camera is snickering meaning the camera shakes bit it's still clearly Will.]

replying to @/losermajorwannabe

Sub 2 WillNE @/memetimez

How about you stop being so fucking disrespectful and take down this post? If Will wanted to talk about it he would've? ???

replying to @/losermajorwannabe

Lucy Stans Dan @/lucylastname

He could've told us? Is that why he suddenly got Otis? Is that why he's been acting off? SO! MANY! QUESTIONS!

-

"Hey Will we still up for filming today?" Alex's chirpy voice beamed loudly as he walked into Will's bedroom with Otis bounding in behind him.

Will rolled over to look at Alex and felt an ice cold dread travel down his spine. "Sorry, mate, I'm just not feeling it today?" His voice came out in a questioning tone.

"Wanna talk about it?" Alex asked and Otis jumped on the bed and wondered over to Will to nudge him up.

Will sighed as Alex sat at the edge of his bed.

"I dunno why! I've tried getting up, made my bed, cleaned up shit that was left out everywhere, fed Otis. And- for some fucking reason- everything feels wrong and I'm so tired and the idea of staying locked in my room forever seems so appealing!" It was true. Will did everything as normal, even posted some photos on social media but, for whatever reason, Will felt wrong. Tears ran out of Will's eyes as he explained. "I have tried to do shit today, I promise!"

Alex quickly reached foreward and engulfed his friend in a hug.

Alex rested a hand on the back of Will's head pulled him into his neck. As if he was protecting him, maybe looking after him. "Is this about what happened the other day? Because I can assure you that was not your fault."

"It's not that- it's probably adding to it but it's mainly my stupid head and my stupid, shitty thoughts!" Will went to claw at his forehead.

Alex quickly grabbed Will's hand and pulled it down. "None of that mate, c'mon. You've been doing so well." He whispered as Otis licked Will's cheek.

Will sobbed out a "I'm sorry!" as Alex stroked through Will's knotty hair.

"No need to say sorry!" Alex muttered. "How about you have a shower and I'll make a plan on we'll get through this." Will nodded and Alex helped him up and walked him to the shower.

"Do you mind leaving the door unlocked?" Will shot Alex a look.

"What you gonna do?" Will chuckled. "Nonse on me?"

"Oh fuck off!" Alex groaned. "Just in case you need Otis or me or something!" Will suddenly tensed.

"I'm not a baby!" He growled.

Alex raised his hands in defence. "Never said you were, mate! It's just in case!"

Will felt his cheeks warm up and he glanced away, snatching the towel that hang from Alex's hands.

Alex waited until he heard the water start running before he looked at the tweets. Disgust flooded through him. How dare these people, these 'fans' that Will like this? He realised Will had two options at this point.

"You can either tell them or ignore it!" Alex said as Will thew on a hoodie.

"I can't tell them mate!" Will exclaimed. "They will freak out and I don't want that!"

"It's either that or they get pissed off that your keeping secrets." Gee leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed. "It doesn't have to be a big thing? Just a tweet or something?"

"They're gonna pity me." Will groaned head in hands. "How can I deal with that?"

"They're gonna support you no matter what." Alex sighed, squatting down and placing his hands on Will's knees.

"I'm so scared." Will whimpered, curling in on himself. Gee almost cried, he looked so small. She rested a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay to be scared." She whispered, scared to break or hurt him. "But you'll feel so much better once you tell them."

Will nodded and looked up at them. "I'll make a video." He mumbled, slowly unfolding himself. "Not now. When I feel a tad better."

"Of course." Alex smiled.

They sat in silence for a bit, the only noise being quiet sniffles coming from Will.

"I might," Will's voice was croaky as he spoke. "I might go stay with my parents for a bit? I dunno, might just get away for a bit."

Alex and Gee nodded.

"Of course, love." Alex smiled softly. "Whatever you need to get better."

"Can I have a few minutes please?" Will mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Of course. We'll be outside." Gee smiled and walked out the room alongside Alex.

Will let out a soft sigh and stood up, reaching for his phone. His shaking hands clicked on his mum's contact and put his phone to his ear.

"Hello dear, you alright?"

"Mum?" Will croaked out before the flood gates opened.

"Oh honey, what's up?"

"I want to come home!" Will cried.

"It's okay, honey, you're okay. Can you tell me why?"

"Everything is so hard! I want to get away!" Will's sobs were becoming more erratic. "I want to go home!"

"Breathe for a second, okay?"

"It's so hard."

"I know dear. Can you breathe in for four seconds? Hold for six. Out for eight. Can you do that?"

"Y- yes."

"You're doing brilliant, sweetheart.. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Alright, darling, how about you come home tomorrow? We'll have a nice day together? And you can go back to your flat whenever you want."

"Okay. I love you." Will said quietly.

"I love you too."

That night Gee helped Will pack, making him pack a week's worth of clothes alongside a pillow because "It's a little reminder of home!". Will also had a mini mental breakdown when he realised that he hadn't pre-filmed videos. 'Mini mental breakdown' was Will setting his equipment up whilst tears streamed down his face and repeated "I'm a fuck up, should've thought about this." over and over again. Gee had to tell Will that he had already made two videos and that she could put together bloopers for him. She then told him to get Otis' energy out to distract him. This meant Will would run around the flat with Otis and throwing toys for Otis to fetch. Gee finished packing for Will and then stared at his empty room. She wiped away her tears before they could fall. She was going to miss him, she couldn't imagine how his closer friends were feeling.