#we live such isolated lives!!!! a small helping hand with someone's bags or banding together to survive in unusual sitautions

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

stargazing is very deeply underrated

[writseo]

Nathan Prescott | I Can’t Believe My Heart

Word Count: 1.3K 

Tagging: @sacredwarrior88​

Warnings: None

I’ve been taught, I’ve learned the hard way that life and love are never just. 

“Are you okay?” 

You were walking by the trail of lockers, right next to Stella. It had only been a few days since your ex had broken it off with you. You didn’t really like the relationship too much, but it still felt like home. It was filled with security, or at least you thought so. When he tore off the band-aid, confessed how his attraction had died down so drastically for you over the years, you swore to yourself to never go back. To never go back to such a vulnerable place only to let someone take a hit to beat you down. Last night, you had been crying yourself in your pillow for the third time that day. Now, you were numb. Afraid, but mainly numb and just wanted to isolate yourself in your dorm. 

“Are you okay?” You looked towards Stella.

“Yeah, I just need a bit of time to gather myself.” 

That was 8 months ago. Despite the fact that the wounds were just finally healing, the pain still lingered like a bruise. The wounds were okay when untouched but once it was pressed, it ached. 

You were sitting in your desk, waiting for Jefferson to continue on with his lesson and tell you about the project that he had set up for all of you. 

“You will be assigned a partner and an artist. I want you to both work together to try to replicate this historical figure’s work, through a pair of camera lenses, do you all understand?” Some groans and low “Yeah”s filled the room, “Okay, I have a list set up.”

As Jefferson walked over to his desk, you noticed some giggling from the side of the room. Looking over, you spotted a certain teen, speaking to the other students with a similar jacket to his. You didn’t really like him, in fact, you thought he was a bit annoying. Nathan had always been a constant distraction in the classroom. You couldn’t stand him though, you just wanted to pass the class and yet he would somehow make it harder, even though he never really spoke to you directly nor did he probably even know your name. Jefferson reached back to the center of the room, pushing Nathan out of the conversation he had with his friends. 

“Victoria and Taylor, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce… Nathan and (Y/N), Alfred Steiglitz…” Your mind trailed off. You already worked with his people like him before. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he left the whole project for you to do. You looked over to Nathan, seeing him tilt his head. It wasn’t like he was familiar to your name. You were rarely called on, barely spoke to him either. You wished it was the same for you. 

And if you trust, you're just one of the fools.

After several classes of trying your best to get the perfect shot, the one that would end up skyrocketing your grade, you and Nathan had seemed to get… closer. As you worked to get the different angles right, the two of you would make small chats. And when it became darker, so did the small conversations that took place. One minute, it went from living in Arcadia Bay to how his father expects so much from him. You didn’t expect it though. You had always been taught to believe that Nathan Prescott was just another… well, Prescott. You forgot how he was still a person though, with feelings, who suffered from rumours more than anyone else did. The annoyance in your head would soon change towards your stomach, then to butterflies. At first, you thought it was because of the sudden attention. No one listened or looked at you as much as he did, especially in such a tedious manner. You thought that maybe it was just nerves, until you started noticing his fluffy hair. And his blue, sparkling eyes. Or perhaps the way he would always be playing with his fingers in such a tense way. 

“What are you looking at?” He snapped at you from the park’s bench. You were trying to capture a melancholic picture, though your camera was facing towards the streets and your eyes were in a different direction, eyeing a different picture. Even though you had grew a slight friendship with the boy, it never stopped him from giving you the sass that helped entertain you. 

“Nothing, sorry,” You said, shyly. You then went back to your camera, and continued on with your efforts. 

Pull it together, you thought, you already have enough shit going on. Don’t add onto it with this, again. 

And now I can’t believe my heart, is saying I don’t resist him 

Somehow, in his little sociopathic heart, he felt a bit of guilt. All the work was laid on you, Nathan had nothing to take part in it. The least he could do was take you to get some lunch, or even dinner. 

“They have the best pancakes,” Nathan claimed, enthusiastically as he held open the door for you. Even though you felt irritated in a small sense, your heart still jumped when you felt his gaze on your back as you entered the restaurant. 

“Where do you want to sit?” 

“Anywhere.” 

When you made your way to the booth that was all the way in the back, you felt his hand graze against your body. You didn’t want the shiver to pass through your spine. But you did, and you felt how intoxicating the boy was. For a moment, you almost paused. At least until the hand retreated back and you began to miss the sweet feeling. 

Later that night, you would be on your bed, curled up into a little ball, crying your eyes out. You played this game too many times. You couldn’t play it again. 

That I've been on my guard too long.

Even though you wanted nothing more than to be separated from him, that didn’t stop the small happiness from slipping through you when he would come closer. When the project ended and you both had already finished it up, you felt excited when you found him making his way towards you. Nathan didn’t really have a purpose, none that you know of. So it made you smile when you found that he liked you enough to hang out with you willingly. 

Once the class had ended, you found the man making his way towards your table. You pretended to be busy, putting away books and rummaging through your bag so you wouldn’t have to make eye contact. 

“(Y/N)?” you looked up, “Can we meet up at the lighthouse? I want to show you something.”

You nodded and mumbled a small “sure.” Giving you a quick small smile, he walked back off. 

I can't believe my heart~

You walked up the hill, following the signs. It was almost night, stars were beginning to shine. The bench that usually laid empty was occupied by a familiar full head of hair. He then turned around and glanced at you. He stood up and walked himself towards you. With each stride, your heart began to pound louder and louder. You managed to take out a leg and made your way towards Nate.  

“You are here,” he said. You nodded. 

“In the flesh.”

“I want to ask you something,” he nipped at his lips and scratched his top of his head with his left hand. 

“Is everything okay?” You were concerned, especially when he started fidgeting with his hands a bit. 

“I was thinking that we should go out sometime, like as a date?” Nathan looked at you, waiting for your response as a light blush took over his cheeks. 

~Surrendered when I kissed him.

“Sure, why not?” 

[lost-in-the-80s]

Winter Memories

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,808k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + angst)

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like it! Tell me if you want a part 2! There will be a few lines in norwegian, but the translations will be below in italics ;)

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers​ @normatural​ add yourself to my tag list :) 

Part 2

It had been a busy week and Axl's frustration was reaching extremely high levels.

Making an album was not an easy task, it required a lot of work and dedication, especially when the bandleader was Axl. Known for being a perfectionist, Axl expected nothing less than perfection for the band's third and fourth albums.

He understood why his bandmates were so tired, Axl had made them redo each song countless times and that was exhausting, but it was even more exhausting for him, who stayed in the studio for hours after his friends left, doing the vocals as many times as he could.

Axl realized he needed to relax when he ended up taking all his anger out on the supermarket attendant last week. She hadn't done anything much, just asked for an autograph, but the stress accumulated in his body made him be rude to her.

That night he decided that he needed time away from it all, that he needed time just for him so he could calm down.

It was December and the clear California sun was starting to get paler, accompanied by a cold breeze coming in the late afternoon. But he knew it wouldn't get much colder, after all, Los Angeles was one of the hottest cities in the United States.

Furthermore, he would not find peace in such a busy place. The chances of someone showing up at his door out of nowhere or calling insisting for him to go out were too high to risk.

Following the advice of a friend, Axl decided to go north, to Norway, more precisely. He wanted to see the snow again, wanted to feel the cold winter wind and visit a place he had never been to before.

After notifying the band and advancing some things in the studio, he left. Catching a plane on Friday afternoon, lusting to reach a small isolated town in the center of the country in the morning.

His assistant had managed to rent a room in a small, comfortable cottage near a mountain, where he could learn to ski.

After spending countless hours on the flight and two more hours driving a rental car to the place, he finally arrived.

The view was incredible, the contrast of the snow on the ground and the blue of the sky baffled him.

Entering the reception of the cottage, Axl was greeted by an old lady, who took him to his room while telling him about how the cottage had been built by her grandparents and that the house used to creak with the wind at night.

His room was very spacious, the walls and floor were the same types of wood, in the center of the room, there was a double bed with white sheets and a thick red plaid blanket. In front of the bed was a large fireplace, already lit by someone from the cottage.

The bathroom was on the left, next to the entrance door, it was small, but it had a large bathtub and the lady had assured him that the water was very hot. To his right was a large glass window that overlooked a vast field of snow-covered pines and a large mountain in the background. There was a small sofa under the window, accompanied by a small wooden table, the same color as the bedside tables.

It was different from what he was used to, but he liked the location.

After leaving his bags in the room and putting on another blouse, Axl decided to go down to the cottage's dining room for breakfast. Taking a large cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, he sat down at a table in the far corner, next to a window.

He hugged the cup with his hands, hoping the act would warm them up. He heard footsteps on the stairs and it was at that moment that he saw her coming. She was beautiful as an angel, her eyes looked like a cat's, which told him she was unpredictable, but her smile was sweet when she greeted the owner of the place.

"God morgen, Anna!" She waved to the lady.

"Good morning, Anna!"

“God morgen, Y/N! Du våknet endelig!”

“Good morning, Y/N! At least you woke up”

She laughed and Axl felt like he was in a trance. He didn't understand what she said, so he assumed she was a local.

Sensing his gaze, she finally looked in his direction. Her expression changed, the sweet smile disappeared and her eyes began to transmit lust. She looked him up and down before picking up her breakfast and sitting at a table.

Axl ate, but every little bit he found himself looking in her direction, only to realize that she was already looking at him, like a predator looking at the victim.

After eating, Axl got in his car and drove towards the mountain ski station, putting on the right clothes and getting a ski board, an instructor taught Axl the basic moves and instructed him to stay in a specific area, where the beginners stayed.

After a good 30 minutes, Axl realized that perhaps skiing was not his thing. He fell numerous times and was unable to move properly on the board. Irritation started to form inside his body and when he was about to damn everything to hell and go back to the cottage, he heard her voice near him.

"Flytt deg!"

"Get out of the way!"

He looked back just in time to see that she was approaching him at high speed, trying to get out of her way as fast as possible, Axl tripped on his own feet and ended up landing face first in the snow.

He heard her laugh again and when he noticed a small hand covered by a glove was being extended towards him. Axl looked up and saw her face, she was still laughing.

Accepting the offer, she helped Axl to get up again.

"Unnskyldning." She gave a small smile, trying to contain her laughter.

"I’m sorry."

"What?" Axl frowned, trying to understand what she had said.

"Ah, sorry, I thought you were from here!" Her accent made Axl smile, he found the sound cute.

"Well, I'm not."

"I am, Y/N, by the way." She offered her hand for him to greet her.

"Axl!" He shook her hand.

"I liked your name! Is this your first time here? ”

"It actually is." He scratched the back of his neck.

“I live in Oslo, but I come here every year at this time. It's nice to relax. ”

"I hope so!" He gave her a small smile. 

"Having trouble skiing?"

"To tell the truth, yes."

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"Would you do it?"

"Sure, what kind of Norwegian would I be if I saw someone here without enjoying the best part of winter?"

He smiled at her.

For the next few hours, Y/N taught Axl as best as she could, always encouraging him not to give up whenever he fell or fell out of balance.

When Axl finally came down a small part of the mountain without difficulty, she clapped her hands and shouted at him, celebrating his victory.

"Now nobody else can say that you are a tourist." She laughed, making him smile.

We should go back to the cottage, it's almost three o'clock, it's going to get dark soon.

"Is it getting dark so early in here?"

"It's December baby, from now on the days will get shorter and shorter."

The nickname made him smile again.

"Are you driving?" He asked when they were returning the clothes and equipment to the company.

“No, I came by bus. I don't trust the roads much at this time of year. ”

"Do you want a ride to the cottage?"

"It would be great!"

In the first few minutes, an awkward silence came over the car, to break the mood, Y/N turned on the car's radio and turned up the volume when A-Ha started playing.

Axl glanced at her. "Do you listen to this shit?"

"They are Norwegian, we are crazy about them." She laughed, thinking about it. It was funny with her people, they had a habit of liking anything that was national.

He shook his head, but let a small smile take over his lips.

"I like your hair!" She said, staring at him.

"Thank you, I think!"

“No, seriously, I really like it. I think the color is beautiful. ”

"Thank you very much then."

He looked at her and his eyes met hers. A shiver went down his spine and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe for a moment, so he focused on the road again.

After a few minutes, he decided to start a conversation.

"What do you normally do here when you're not skiing?"

“I drink hot chocolate, read and go for a short walk in the city. They have some cool stores here. ” She shrugged.

He nodded in response.

After arriving at the cottage, the two agreed to go down to have hot chocolate together in half an hour.

Axl took a hot shower, letting his muscles relax with the warmth of the water. He contemplated shaving but changed his mind after thinking it over. His beard was slightly long, red hair adorned his face.

Down the stairs he saw her sitting on a couch, wearing a pair of black leggings and a red sweatshirt, her hair was tied up in a bun and she was using a pair of slipper boots.

"You Americans are always late." She noted when Axl sat down next to her.

"Sorry."

She gestured with her hand, as if to inform him that it was okay. "I already ordered the hot chocolate, Anna was supposed to bring it after you arrived."

He nodded in agreement.

"So, what do you work with?" He wanted to know more about her.

"I'm a lawyer. I deal with divorces. What about you?"

"I work with music."

"What kind of music?"

"Rock."

"Nice!"

Anna arrived with two large mugs, interrupting the conversation.

"Takk, Anna!" Y/N smiled sweetly at the woman.

"Thank you, Anna!"

"Thanks." He picked up his mug carefully, as he knew it would be hot.

"No problem." She smiled back at them both.

The two stayed there for over an hour talking, finding out more about each other.

Axl couldn't say why, but he felt comfortable around her, almost as if they knew each other for decades. He could tell that she felt the same way because after a few minutes she put her legs on his lap.

"You were right, her hot chocolate is delicious." Axl said after taking the second mug that night.

"I told you!" She smiled proudly.

Getting closer to him, she whispered in his ear. "I'm going up to my room now, if you want to stop by later, I'm in room 22." She rested her hand on his chest.

He looked into her eyes, they were both close enough to kiss, but there was a family with two children in the room, so he decided not to.

Nodding his head at her, Axl kept his gaze fixed on her back when she got up and went upstairs, leaving him alone.

The simple image of what he could do with her later made his member throb with anticipation. And he decided that after it was late he would knock on her door.

Returning to his room he realized that her room was two doors from his, on the same side of the corridor.

He tried to entertain himself at night, he went down to dinner and then tried to read a book he had brought, but he couldn't focus on reading, his imagination was running wild and all he could think about was her.

Glancing at the clock in his room, he saw that it was just after nine.

"Fuck it!" Getting up and locking his door as he left the room, he walked in quick steps to room 22, knocking three times on the door and waiting for her to open.

When she opened it, Axl's member pulsed again. She was wearing a black wool sweater three times the size of her, covering up to half of her thighs. Her hair was still tied up in a bun.

Before she could say anything, his lips crashed against hers, hugging her waist with one of his arms and pushing her slightly into the room, closing the door with his free hand.

She responded on the spot, her arms circling his neck while her tongue asked for permission to invade his mouth.

Allowing the intrusion, their tongues began to move as if in an aggressive ballet, fighting for dominance. She moved one of her hands to Axl's hair, lightly pulling the strands at the top of his neck, causing a low growl to leave his throat.

Her hands started to remove Axl's jacket, who broke the kiss for a second to remove his white shirt as well.

She admired the muscles in his abdomen, biting her bottom lip with desire.

Axl pulled her close by her hips, letting his hands find her butt cheeks and squeeze them tightly, making a small moan leave her lips.

He brought his right hand to her hair, removing the elastic that held her strands and letting her hair cover part of her face. Axl guided her to the bed, stopping when her legs hit the furniture slightly, creating a distance between them and removing her sweater, revealing the black lace lingerie she wore.

His member started to stiffen. Letting her fall on the soft mattress, Axl stayed on top of her, dropping his kisses to her neck, where he left light bites that would surely leave marks. She sighed like an angel when Axl lowered his kisses further, making a trail between her neck and the bar of her panties, taking off her bra in the process.

He propped her two legs up on the bed, kissing her right thigh, higher and higher, letting his beard run lightly over her skin and watching her sigh with the contact.

His cold fingers touched her skin, slowly pulling her panties down, making her shiver at the touch.

She leaned on her forearms, watching Axl closely.

Axl approached the center of her, licking her folds before spreading her legs further, granting him more access. His tongue started to make circular movements on her clit, at first they were slow and calm, but after a while, they started to get stronger and more accurate.

She grabbed the covers with her fingers, letting her head fall on the bed again allowing small moans to leave her lips.

"Axl" She whispered his name.

Seeing this as an incentive, Axl slowly penetrated one of his fingers into her, while his other hand came up and squeezed her breast firmly, causing a loud moan to come out of her throat.

After a few minutes, Axl inserted a second finger, curving them and reaching a different point inside her that made her moan louder.

"Right there!" She said between moans.

Axl started to feel her walls tightening, giving a sign that she was close, he applied more pressure to her clit, making faster movements with his tongue.

At that point she was already a mess, her left hand tightly gripped the cover under her, while her right hand was in Axl's hair, pulling his strands lightly and whimpering with pleasure.

He hit her point a few more times and was static when he saw her legs shaking slightly while a loud moan accompanied by a strong tug on his hair told him that she had reached her climax.

After receiving all the juices she had given him, Axl lifted his kisses, stopping at the level of her right breast, where he sucked with ease, lightly biting her nipple while watching the long, heavy breathes come out of her lips.

Going up a little further, he captured her lips in a hot, ravenous kiss. Her hands began to entertain with the buttons on his pants, telling him that she wanted him to get rid of them.

Breaking the kiss Axl removed his pants and underwear at the same time, freeing his already hard and completely erect member.

She licked her lips with desire, watching him as he stroked himself while walking towards her.

"Are you going to be a good girl and take everything?"

She nodded and he pushed her by the shoulders on the bed before pulling her closer to him by her legs.

He climbed on the bed and used his left hand to support himself, while his right hand guided his member to collect some of her juices. Axl moved his cock slowly over her clit, making her moan softly.

Slowly, he began to penetrate her, pausing for a moment when it came to an end, waiting for her to adjust to his size. The pressure created by his dick against her tight walls made them both moan in unison before they shared a lush kiss.

Moving slowly, he started to get in and out of her. His eyes locked with hers as the room seemed to get ten degrees warmer. Her hands tightened on his biceps tightly as he leaned down to kiss her again.

“Fuck, you look so hot taking my cock inside of you.” He groaned.

After a few minutes, Axl's thrusts became stronger and faster and Y/N's moans got louder and louder. She murmured things in her native language that Axl was unable to understand as her nails scratched the skin on his back, making him grunt and bite her neck hard.

"I think…. I’m going to…." She managed to utter between moans.

"I know baby, cum for me!" Axl ordered in her ear, making her even more excited than before.

She let out a loud moan, before shouting his name, reaching her climax. Her eyes rolled and her mouth was open, her mind was blank and an orgasm twice as strong as the first took over her body.

The image was a work of art in Axl's eyes. When she said his name again, this time lower, almost like a plea, he could no longer contain himself, reaching his own climax and pouring his liquids into her while letting out a loud grunt.

He collapsed on top of her and she hugged his waist with her legs while removing some strands of his hair from his face.

The two let the last moans leave their bodies, low and disconnected, due to sensitivity.

Axl stood up and slowly withdrew his member from inside her, watching their mixed liquids leave her body. His member shook with pleasure, but he could tell that she was too tired for another round.

After cleaning her, the two fell asleep in bed, Axl wrapped Y/N in his arms and admired her in the light of the fireplace when she slept. He didn't want to leave tomorrow, he wanted to have more time with her.

----

The next morning Axl woke up and the bed was empty. Sitting up quickly, he realized that she was sitting by the window, smoking a cigarette.

"I thought you were gone." He said as he approached, wearing nothing but his underwear.

She was wearing the same sweater as last night.

"Your smell is on my sweater." She said casually.

"Good to know!" He leaned down to kiss her lips again.

She didn't want to kiss him, she knew she was already too involved. He was from another country and the two would probably never see each other again. But there was something about him that made it impossible for her to resist.

One of her hands touched his face lightly, caressing him.

"Last night was incredible!" He sat across from her, lighting a cigarette for himself.

She nodded slowly while looking through the window.

"What's it? Did I do something?"

"No, it's just ... I'm leaving today." She didn't look at him.

"Yeah, me too!"

She looked at him and felt her eyes well up with tears, but she was not going to allow herself to cry. She had just met him, it was ridiculous to feel that way.

"Do you think we could exchange our numbers?"

“I don't think it's a good idea! You live on the other side of the world, it’s not good to feed that kind of thing. ”

He felt a tightening in his heart, but he understood what she meant.

"Yeah, you must be right."

He looked at the bedroom’s watch and realized it was close to ten. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, its timid rays illuminating the room.

"I have to get to Bergen by one."

"You should go then, or you'll be late!"

"Yeah, I should."

They looked at each other for almost a minute. Their looks saying what their mouths lacked courage.

Axl leaned over and kissed her one last time, his hands pulling her closer until she was on his lap, while her hands played with his hair.

They tried to keep the kiss as long as they could, knowing that when they separated, Axl would have to leave. But the oxygen came to an end and they had to separate.

Both stood looking at each other for several seconds, trying to record every detail of the other's face in their memories.

She got up and allowed him to do the same.

Axl put on his clothes and started walking towards the door, stopping before opening it. "Am I going to see you before I leave?"

"I think not."

He nodded and left, heading for his room.

She sighed, pulling the sweater close to her nose and taking in his scent. 

----

Later that morning, Y/N saw Axl leaving the cottage and storing his suitcase in a black car.

A sense of sadness took over the body, but she couldn't say why. It was impossible for her to love him, wasn't it? After all, they had only known each other for a day.

Axl turned towards her window and saw her sitting in the same place as before. He waved at her and waited for her to return the gesture before he got in the car and left.

When he left the place he couldn't help feeling that he had left something very important behind. He knew what it was. It was her. But she was right, it would be fruitless to feed something like that.

Watching the car leave, Y/N touched the window and waited until the car was out of sight.

A single tear fell from her eyes. "Hvis det er ham, vil skjebnen få oss til å møtes igjen."

"If it's him, fate will make us meet again." 

[itty-bitty-dancer]

The Worst Kind of Pain (2/2)

Enzo St.John x Reader

Summary: You and Enzo finally escape from Augustine and he finally gets to take you on the date he’d always promised you.

Part 1

He had waited for this day for over ten years. But ever since you had been imprisoned, the thought of escape became much, much sweeter. And it also became reality.

>>

His plan had worked to perfection, and now, the Augustine compound was set alight. Fire crawling up the drapes and completely consuming the hideous wallpaper of the ballroom Enzo had been put on display in- like a freakshow attraction.

Luckily for you, Dr. Whitmore didn't think you suitable enough to be paraded around in front of his guests, whatever that meant. Regardless, you were thankful. But you were also alone; still sitting fragile, and near-desiccation in the corner of the dank stone dungeon.

>>

Upon being let out of his cage in shackles, Enzo continued to feign fatigue- which wasn't hard considering it wasn't completely falsified. But really, he had more adrenaline surging through him than ever, and was just waiting for his time to pounce.

While Whitmore was boasting about his vampiric findings, Enzo had broken free of his restraints- grimacing in pain as he twisted and crunched the bones of his hands, managing to break them entirely as he slipped through the rusted metal with ease.

Once free, he finally made his move. Killing Whitmore mercilessly before moving onto his guests. The room erupted in screams as the patrons desperately tried to flea the scene. But Enzo's thirst for blood was much stronger than their fear.

He tore into the necks of many, and spared few, quenching his torturous thirst. Amongst the hysteria, a candelabra had toppled to the ground, sparking the blaze.

>>

The all too familiar hallways seemed to close in as he ran down them, almost banging into the stone walls as he took the sharp twists and turns to get to you. Making a pit-stop in Whitmore's operating room, he grabbed a couple of blood bags, zipping out of the painful room faster than he could ever hope for.

>>

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was only mere seconds, he made it back to your cell, coming to an abrupt stop at your door- breath ragged and eyes wild.

As per usual, you were lent up against the wall, head lulled to the side and clothing just as tattered as his own.

He'd seen you like this thousands of times before. But this time it struck a chord in him. This time he was standing where Whitmore once did- in a sense; seeing through the self proclaimed 'doctors' point of view from the outside of the barred door.

In that moment, seeing you from a place of such power, he couldn't understand how anyone would be so cruel as to inflict so much pain upon someone so defenseless. After all, weren't vampires supposed to be the monsters?

Snapping out of his trancelike thought, he immediately began work on the bars. Bending the old metal as he pulled the door from its rusted hinges.

He tossed it to the side, letting it clatter to the ground before he sped to your side, pulling you into his arms.

You stirred at the sudden movement, looking up at him in confusion.

"Here, gorgeous." He spoke in a rush, breaking open the seal to the blood-bag and bringing it to your lips. Slowly, you began to drink. Gradually regaining strength as you clutched the plastic in your grasp- squeezing it for all its worth.

"We're leaving. You and me." He husked, helping you to your feet as you sent him a wary nod.

Wrapping an arm around your waist as you leant on him, still weak from a lack of blood, you sped out of the compound as it continued to burn; You in his arms, and freedom in his sight.

>>

The motel room you'd compelled your way into residing in free of charge sure wasn't a five-star joint. But compared to what you had both been used to, it might as well've been the white house.

"Would you look at this?" Enzo mused from his place over by the mini-bar. You looked up from your position lying on the bed. "What good would bourbon this size do?" He scoffed, holding up a tiny glass, barely larger than the palm of his hand.

"Enzo, darling, it's the 50's." You laughed, "I think they know better than to hand out free, full-sized bottles of hard liquour."

"It's not even free." He quirked, inspecting the bottle further.

"Now that's absurd." You pointed, eliciting a deep chuckle from him that rumbled through his chest.

The sight before you made you smile- a real smile. Not like the ones you had once settled for by finding joy in the few rays of light that leaked through darkness. But a smile evoked by the entire sun in all its warm, glimmering glory.

A smile evoked by Enzo.

You moved from your place on the bed, your feet padding across the flat carpet before you stopped at the man before you. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you grinned up at him.

"I don't know how to thank you." You spoke sincerely.

He was flustered to say the least, but his bad-boy persona had returned in an instant.

"Let me take you on a that date we used to always talk about." He began, the familar rasp of his voice and the glint in his eyes making your stomach do backflips. He grinned wildly at the thought of going out together as he grasped your hands. "We'll go dancing."

"Just like you promised." You smiled warmly, thinking back to all those times in Augustine that he'd sworn once you'd escaped, he would take you out and treat you like a queen.

The promises seemed small and relatively meaningless at the time. But really, they gave you hope for freedom, and something to look forward to and fight for.

"I'm a man of my word, sweetheart." He shrugged.

>>

Your arm sat linked with Enzo's as the waiter escorted the two of you to your table. He pulled your chair out for you- leaving your arm hesitantly as he did so before taking the seat opposite you. You nodded a silent thanks, smiling up at him.

The restaurant was magnificent; High, intricately detailed ceilings, a grand staircase leading down to the enormous ebony dance floor, and an elegant chandelier acting as a sort of centerpiece. It was exquisite to say the very least. Not to mention the band playing by the front of the room.

"I've only ever known America from the inside of a cell." Enzo pointed out as his gaze scoped around the restaurant. "But this is really something."

"I've missed this." You sighed contently, closing your eyes as a smile graced your lips.

"Quite accustomed to fine dining are we?" His teasing drawing a laugh from you— opening your eyes only to playfully roll them.

"I meant music."

He looked at you for a moment, admittedly loving the way you looked so peaceful- so at ease as you gazed over at the band.

"Well then," He began, standing from his seat and moving in front of you, holding out a hand for you to hopefully take. "Might I have this dance?" He grinned.

You were a little taken aback. Not so much that he'd made the gesture, but that you'd lived to see it.

Grasping his hand with a delicate touch, you joined him on the dance floor.

>>

Gliding around the room together- everything else seemed to become meaningless. Less than 24 hours ago, you were victims of torture. But now, you were living out what seemed like a wild fantasy.

Considering the years Enzo had spent isolated from the world, your dance moves were admittedly a little old fashioned. However as far as you were concerned, you were the only people in the room.

You leaned into him as the melody swam through your heart. He pulled you closer— both out of the instinct he’d developed to protect you, and an innocent curiosity of what it would finally feel like to be able to hold you. A simple gesture that had helped fuel his desire to escape.

“Thank you.” You all but whispered into him, sinking further into the slow sway.

Fingers hooked delicately under your chin—eyes meeting yours with a sorrow smile—lips pressing to your own.

This was freedom.

It was warm and sweet tasting, sending ripples throughout your system as he embraced you tighter, kissing you like it was all he’d ever needed.

Your eyes remained closed as he finally pulled away, foreheads pressed together as your dance slowly turned into something so much more.

His voice was quiet, the rasp so guttoral anyone would’ve missed the words he breathed into you—

“Thank you.”

[allsassnoclass]

here’s a hand my trusted friends

Ficmas Day 7

Pairing: platonic One Direction ot4

Rating: General Audiences

Key Tag(s): New Year’s Eve, Hiatus

Word Count: 1909

Read on AO3

—

Liam invites the boys to spend New Year's Eve with him in a cabin in Canada.

—

Liam arrives at the house before anyone else, key unfamiliar in his hand and nearly swallowed by his gloves.  It’s a cabin in Canada, somewhere rural enough that they can exist without being discovered and hounded, chosen specifically to give them a bit of peace tonight. The front yard is covered in a thick sheet of snow, smooth and undisturbed by footprints, and he grabs the railing by the stairs to ensure that he won’t slip on his way to the front door, kicking off as much snow as possible from his boots so he doesn’t track it inside.

The house is a bit cold and drafty, so he goes around turning on the heat and double-checking that all four of the bedrooms are clean as promised and that the fridge and cupboards are stocked with the food he ordered.  The entire place is furnished in the welcoming but impersonal way that every temporary lodging is, from hotel rooms to vacation mansions, and he almost mourns that they won’t be here long enough to put their mark on it.  Getting a fire started in the fireplace warms the atmosphere a bit, and once the other boys get here there will be other things to focus on.

He hopes it’ll be easy.  The idea of seeing the boys again for the first time in a year hadn’t made him nervous yesterday, but the closer he gets to everyone’s arrival, the more anxiety gathers in his gut.

He misses them.  He wants to spend time with them and give them each a hug and feel like they’re brothers again.  They’re not really getting the band back together, because it’s not time yet, but they’re figuratively getting the band back together.

To go from seeing the boys almost constantly for five years to barely seeing them at all over the past year was an adjustment.  You don’t notice the changes when you’re with someone all the time.  He’s not ready to see how drastically different they all might have become when he wasn’t looking.  He doesn’t want to look at them and not recognize every inch.

The doorbell launches him out of his thoughts and towards the door.  He checks the peephole before opening, a habit he’s been in since fame began breeding unwelcome visitors, then wretches open the door to let Louis in from the cold.

“Hey, Payno,” Louis says, and the sound of his voice, unfiltered by phone lines or video chats, is enough to make something out of place inside Liam realign again.

“Louis!” he greets, pulling him into a hug before taking his bag so he can shed his coat and hat.

“Bloody cold out there, isn’t it?” Louis says, tucking his arms around himself.  “Anyone else here yet?”

“Just you,” Liam says.  “Means you get to pick your room first.”

Louis nods.  Liam has missed the familiar way he presses his lips together in a smile when he’s pleased about something.  It makes him feel warm to see that face now.

Niall arrives next, after Liam has given Louis a tour of the house and already been given shit for his food choices.  Niall automatically brings a joy and brightness with him wherever he goes, even if his hair is no longer bleached blond and instead growing out in his natural brown.  His laugh is the same, though, a welcome sound when he gets into it with Louis.

Harry is last, uncharacteristically late with an apologetic excuse about road conditions and a delayed flight.  He collects hugs from all of them and gracefully accepts the last and least desirable room, saying that it’s charming.  It doesn’t really matter, because all of them will only be here for a night, anyway.

Liam had invited Zayn as well, but he said he wasn’t ready yet.  When Zayn left, he left, isolating himself until he felt like he could breathe again.  Liam has been trying to convince him that seeing the boys again without the hustle and bustle and strict confines of the band won’t be suffocating, but it’s no use.  Zayn isn’t ready, but Liam will be here when he is.  Hopefully the other boys will be, too.

They have a large and messy dinner, all four of them trying to contribute to the cooking in a way that creates more chaos than help.  Harry spends a lot of time threatening to hit Louis with a spoon if he continues being a nuisance while Niall sneaks bites of ingredients behind his back, sharing a wink with Liam when caught.  It’s edible, at least, and they fall into a comfortable pattern of conversation.  The cadence of their voices is familiar, one more thing that Liam knows he shouldn’t have worried about being different since they were last together.  If there’s one thing he’ll never forget, it’s the sound of each of their voices.

Washing up after takes no time at all with all four of them helping, the kitchen just as spotless as they found it by the time they move into the front room to sit by the fire.  Niall tends to it, getting it roaring again while they sit in the dim light on lumpy furniture with various beverages of choice.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” Liam asks.

“I don’t know,” Niall says.  “I haven’t made resolutions in a long time.”

There should be more to add, but none of them do.  Thinking back, Liam hasn’t really made resolutions in a long time, either.  Once they formed the band, everything was a whirlwind, and sometimes it felt like they had no agency or control, brought along for the ride only because they had their seatbelts on.  They kept reaching for new heights, ones Liam would never have fathomed making goals for, and once you get that high it becomes difficult to find something else to reach for.  When you overshoot the moon, where can you go before you forget what Earth looked like?

Last year, Liam’s resolution had been to survive.

“Probably spend more time with the family, like always,” Louis says eventually, when the silence has stretched like taffy and comes too close to snapping.  “Maybe work on more creative projects again.”

Liam nods.

“I think,” Harry says slowly, “I want to come out.  Well, no, that’s not right.  I want to feel like I don’t have to hide.”

He looks around at all of them, and Liam hopes he can see the support there.  It’s always been difficult for Harry to feel like he had to stifle that part of him, but they always backed him one hundred percent.  It was never the members of the band that were the issue.

“I hope you can do that,” Louis says, reaching over to squeeze Harry’s knee.

“Yeah, you deserve it,” Liam agrees.  Niall pats him on the back, prompting Harry to smile, a small thing that grows until it takes over his face.

“What about you, Liam?” Harry asks.  “What are your resolutions?”

“Dunno,” he says.  “I just want to live better, I think.  There’s always something that can be improved.”

Ensure that I see you guys again feels too personal.  It’s funny: once they stopped being forced to hang out with each other at every waking moment, all of them forgot how.  If any of them had said no to spending New Year’s Eve together, Liam isn’t sure if he could’ve maintained hope in their friendship.  He doesn’t know when he would see any of them next if each of them hadn’t sighed in relief at his phone call.

The band will not be getting back together this year.  The eighteen month hiatus won’t stick to its timeline.  None of them wanted to put the band on hold, but all of them needed it, and Liam knows that they haven’t fully recovered yet.  He doesn’t know when they will.

Zayn still won’t see them in person two years later.  They all move at their own pace, but it’s become clear that it’s a pace much slower than all of them anticipated.

When it nears midnight, Liam suggests that they bundle up and watch the fireworks from outside.  Although the nearby town is small, Liam has been assured that their New Year’s fireworks display is visible from the house, best seen in the backyard.  Everyone gets on coats and boots with minimal complaining, staining the flat expanse of snow with their footprints.  The back light is bright, illuminating up until the treeline of the small forest at the back of the property.

“We should go exploring,” Harry says.

“Yeah, if you want to get eaten by a bear,” Niall says, sounding scandalized.  “Do you know how dangerous tramping around an unfamiliar forest at night is?”

“You should be more worried about nearby dangers,” Louis says.  That’s all the warning any of them get before Niall is hit in the face with a snowball.  He rears back, sputtering.

“Louis!” Harry scolds, but he’s not the next target.  Louis sets his sights on Liam, another snowball already being packed together in his hands.

“If you do this, you’re declaring war,” Liam warns.  “And I’ve got a good throwing arm.”

It’s no use.  Louis has the same look on his face that has meant trouble for the past six years, so Liam ducks for cover.  What follows is a snowball fight the likes of which he hasn’t seen since the early days of the band.  Niall joins him in his crusade against Louis, and Harry flounders in an attempt to remain neutral until a stray snowball thrown by Liam hits him.

(His throwing arm may be powerful, but he never claimed it was especially accurate.)

Casualties are many on both sides.  Niall complains about snow in his shoes.  Louis is too fast to make an easy target, so Harry takes a lot of hits.  Louis’s attacks become increasingly fiercer every time he takes damage.  Liam runs around the yard and scoops up snow to fling around, feeling more like a kid than he has in a long time.  He’s only 23, but he’s been wrangling everyone around him and trying to be the mature one since the X-Factor house.  It feels especially freeing to participate in something as juvenile as a snowball fight when he knows that there are no other responsibilities waiting for him.

The fight eventually ends when Harry manages to stuff snow down the back of Liam’s jacket.  He’s not proud of the way he shrieks, but he thinks it’s justified, even if the others laugh at him.

The first firework goes off a moment later, gold sparks lighting the sky.

“Lads,” Niall says, pointing up as explosion after explosion paint the night in fleeting and colorful hues.

“Happy New Year!” Liam yells.

“Happy 2017!”

They whoop and laugh, Niall breaking into a rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” that the rest of them mess up the words to.  Harry links their arms together, reaching out to invite everyone into contact, and all of them stand on the lawn, eyes drawn upwards, singing out of tune about old friends.

Liam has been to some amazing parties over the years.  None of them can compare to this moment and the easy knowledge that he’ll have infinite more with these boys by his side in the future.  Even when they’re not in a band, there still is something drawing all of them together, and none of them will let that go.

[clover-png]

character quirks!

originally this was going to be a list of passive and active character quirks (ex. passive = loves history but knows nothing about it, active = well, everything on this list), but once i started it, i realized that’s not how it works?? all of your quirks and hobbies and loves and hates leave stains on your personality, even in the tiniest ways. so here’s a list of quirks that actively change your character, with simple explanations! and please remember, this is strictly for characters. it is, in one way or another, based in stereotype! and humans aren’t built around stereotype, you are not built around stereotype. 

i don’t write about what I don’t know about, so almost all of this is taken directly from my own self or someone i know :]

only likes cold pizza/raw bagels/the off-brand version of a popular food - can indicate this character is a particular, detail-oriented person, and typically this type of person is not snobbish, but they are stubborn (if you’re looking for something similar to indicate the person is snobbish: they refuse to eat leftovers, wipe grease off their food, shuns fast-food restaurants) 

homeschooled/grew up homeschooled - coming directly from a homeschooler, we get a bad rep! not all homeschoolers are antisocial, extremely religious or have old-fashioned views on society. that being said, homeschoolers tend to act more like their parents and siblings than other kids do, and that’s where those stereotypes tend to stem from. while many homeschoolers are very sociable, it’s common for them to still be more reserved and a little more socially inept than other kids, just from lack of practice. homeschoolers also tend have a strong sense of loneliness, even if they have lots of friends/have graduated, that feeling will stick.

walks along the curb of the street, swinging one foot in front of the other - turning something as minuscule as walking along the side of a road into a silent game shows that they are in their mind a lot, they live in their imaginations. showing them walking normally can indicate that something’s wrong. traits that match with this quirk but aren’t necessary: quiet, optimistic

hates wearing hats/skirts/tights/etc. - a person that hates hats/skirts/tights/whatever is very much comfort before fashion. they’ll tend to not wear fully matching or fitting clothing and this can stem from a fear of change. if someone who openly dislikes wearing hats comes into the room in a beret, it’s change (yes, it can be as small as that. trust me, it took me 2 years to work up the courage to wear a non-formal dress in front of my family.)

always tapping their foot/bobbing their head/patting their leg - this means someone is more musically inclined than others, and it’s almost always subconscious. they probably play multiple instruments, and come from a family of musicians/music-lovers. close friends/family might make fun of them for dancing all the time, or someone might get frustrated when they won’t stop doing it during a serious moment 

zones out easily/can stare at nothing for hours - similar to the person walking on the curb, a character that tends to zone out on nothing for long periods of time is probably daydreaming about the other lives they could lead. they might feel like they’re stuck with the hand they got dealt in life. when things go wrong, they’ll probably get as far away from every person as possible and fantasize about running away and starting it all over. they don’t have to be loners, but they’ll typically feel isolated and different from their friends, maybe not as invested in their friendship as the other person is. 

having stuffed animals - a character, especially outside of young childhood, having stuffed animals can be a sign of their loneliness, the manufactured hug of a friend or soft fur of a pet when they don’t have the real thing nearby. a character with stuffed animals might be more empathetic and sensitive than others, getting upset if someone makes fun of them for it or holding extra tight onto one that fell or got damaged somehow. they also might have childlike fears or simply be more fearful than most, and the stuffed animals might be a sanctuary for them

draws slight attention to themselves in public (listens to music without earbuds, does things that could be done inside [painting, reading, stuff like that] outside, asks a stranger a question to prove their point in a conversation, wears bold clothes, talks loudly, etc.) - while it’s possible for these to just be seen as obnoxious/extroverted quirks, on a deeper level they can imply the character wants something to happen. they want to be seen by strangers. maybe they consume a lot of entertainment (books, tv, movies) and they subconsciously set up their life to be met with question, then a greeting, then a friendship, constantly giving “The One” a chance to appear. 

hates jewelry - fear of being trapped. a necklace feels like being choked, a bracelet feels like being chained down, a ring feels like circulation is cut off, but also take it in a figurative way. by accepting the jewelry, an expensive gift, they’re accepting that someone cares about them/they’re accepting that they have to wear it enough to make up for the cost. it sounds dumb i know but i can tell you from experience this is a very real thing

puts off work to the last second/procrastinates - i’ve really grown to hate that word. they grew up smart, or with an easy workload, and now they refuse to adjust to the updated workload. this one is short but there’s about a million posts on procrastination, and i’m sure there’s a more in-depth one than i could ever do! some ideas for prompts for this quirk is running out of time on something important, someone getting mad at the character for leaving the work until the last minute when they need them, being overworked, having a stress-induced meltdown and a love interest/forming friendship offers to help 

goes through phases rapidly - based on what kind of phases they are, this could show unrest at home for a secondary character. one day they go to MC’s house wearing florals smelling like fabric softener, soft rock music wafting through the air from their cheap earbuds. they’re making clever jokes and urging MC to go on a walk in nature with them. next week, they show up wearing a ragged, wrinkled black t-shirt and they have bags under their eyes, looking like they haven’t showered in five days. they’re being insensitive with their sarcastic cracks and impatient with MC’s reactions, maybe even admitting they didn’t know why they showed up in the first place. obviously that’s a dramatic juxtaposition, but just an idea.

a gentle vandal (carving their initials into old wood, drawing/writing in textbooks, letters to no one put in cheap bottles and thrown into the ocean, underlining passages in books, so on and so forth) - fear of being forgotten, a good romantic partner/close friend of this character would be someone who reminds them they’re not alone in the universe. 

never paints their nails/does their hair/wears extravagant clothes - fear of being seen as “different,” doesn’t want to be noticed by people. probably was bullied when they were young, or they have a family with a Reputation™ to uphold

struggles to accept compliments - a character that struggles with compliments, and basically any positive attention on themselves, would have low self-esteem to begin with. they probably didn’t grow up being seen as “pretty,” or someone made them feel ugly when they were young, regardless of whether it was true or not (example: Cinderella)

tips restaurant employees/delivery people way above the average/gives big gifts for small celebrations - this could mean they grew up in a upper class/upper middle class household and feels guilty for it, or that they grew up in a lower class/working class household and know what it feels like not to get gifts/have extra money. either way, it can give you insight to a character’s past without too much exposition, just a simple line of dialogue after an action. 

always has at least one band-aid on somewhere - this can show that a character is careless with themselves, or maybe that they have a very active mind and force their body to match it (running to write something down and tripping, getting excited about seeing something pretty to sketch in nature and getting scratched by thorns as they tried to reach it as fast as they could, etc.)

wears vintage clothes and/or watches old movies - in the most accurate sense, i think, a character who enjoys these types of things would likely have an old soul, they probably think life should be more exciting than it is, and they’re dissatisfied with the current state of humanity (this doesn’t mean that they have to have an old-fashioned mindset! i wear vintage clothes and one of my favorite movies is meet me in st. louis, but i’m still VERY glad we don’t live like they did. not everything that makes logical sense in life can be drawn together with a bow on top)

i hope this didn’t come off too preachy or anything? i mean, i don’t know shit, i just like writing and characters that make sense, and i feel like i see a lot of character flaw lists that are very.. generalized, and not everything works for every character! obviously you’re free to use any of these, but if you’d like to show me how you used them in your story i’d love to see it!!! feel free to message me any time!

[sidras-tak]

widobrave week, day 7: post-campaign

after all their adventuring is done, Caleb, Veth, and their child go visit an old friend

The Mighty Nein had houses everywhere. No one could agree where to settle, so they settled all over. The Brenattos and Caleb took a large, comfortable house in Nicodranas, as far from the shore as they could get. Jester settled with Marion and the Gentleman in a town a few miles outside of Zadash. Yasha took care of the house in Xhorhas, aided by Beau, when she could be pulled away from the Cobalt Soul. Caduceus’ family enlarged and strengthened the borders of the Blooming Grove to accommodate a guesthouse just off the property, for pilgrims sent by the Wildmother and families visiting their tea-growing ancestors. That was where Fjord hung his hat, and he was a wonderful caretaker of the people of the Blooming Grove, just as Caduceus was a wonderful caretaker of its plants. Everyone in the Mighty Nein traveled frequently between houses, spending time with each other, pursuing their interests and goals, causing trouble and fixing problems. There was no house that didn’t have the mark of each and every member of the Nein somewhere in it.

And there was one more house. It was tiny, hardly more than a room surrounded by four walls a roof. But it was sturdy, and enchanted to be warm and safe. It was to this house that Veth and Caleb were traveling, on foot, mostly unaided by magic, with a child in tow.

(During storytime, the week before, Holly had asked for a story about their various aunts and uncles. Veth and Caleb were happy to indulge, and told them an early tale of a band of misfits and gnolls in mine shafts—with the violence tuned down to the five-year-old’s level, of course.

“Mama, how come I’ve never met Uncle Molly?” Holly asked, after the story had come to a close.

“Oh, sweetie,” Veth said, “We told you that Uncle Molly passed away a long time ago, remember?”

“Yeah, but Uncle Caduceus can talk to the dead. So it shouldn’t matter. Right, Papa?”

Caleb’s lips pressed together and he exhaled through his nose. “Not this one, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?”

“Uncle Molly wouldn’t like it,” Veth said. “He would want to remain at peace.”

Holly made a face and blew a raspberry, a sure sign that they both accepted the explanation and were annoyed by it.

As Veth tucked them into bed, she said, “We can take you to see where he’s resting, if you want. I think you’re old enough to go on adventures, now.”

Hastily, Caleb added, “Adventures with Mama and Papa, okay? No striking out on your own quite yet, young one.”

“Is Daddy coming with us?” Holly asked. Veth shook her head. “I’ll ask, but I’m guessing that Daddy is going to stay behind with Luc. He doesn’t like adventures very much.”

Holly took a little longer than usual to settle down that night, chattering away about the trip they were going to take, including all the gnolls they were going to kill with Mama and Papa’s help. Veth made a silent note to check with Beau for some appropriate children’s stories to read before bed in the future).

So that was how Veth, Caleb, and their five-year-old found themselves making the trek to Glory Run Road, the little house built by the Mighty Nein, and Molly’s grave. Holly was over the moons about going on a real adventure with their parents, and Caleb and Veth took turns having panic attacks about something happening to their child on the road.

“If we run into those fuckin’ Syphilis bandits again, I swear….” Veth muttered to herself. Caleb laughed.

“I don’t think that’s likely, my love. But we have the Tiny Hut and your crossbow. And I prepared Disintegrate today, just in case. We’ll be safe.”

“I know, I know. I just worry.”

Between them, Holly skipped along. The hand held by Caleb was lifted up as high as they could get it, due to the height difference. Every once in a while, they would shake out their arm, pronounce it in need of a rest, and walk backwards so Caleb could hold their other hand.

Travel was thankfully uneventful and Holly took well to traveling—clearly an adventurer in the making. On the third day, Caleb took a sharp turn off the main road and began pushing through the rougher terrain that surrounded it.

“Is this the place?” Veth asked. He nodded silently. Holly held up their arms, so he scooped them up and put them on his shoulders.

“Look there,” he said, pointing a few hundred yards ahead. “Can you see that little house up there? That’s where Uncle Molly is.”

Molly’s coat was waiting for them, tattered by weather and faded with the passing years. Be it from dumb luck, superstition, or divine intervention, no one had dared disturb the grave marker—or if they had, the coat had been quickly restored to its rightful place. Some kind soul had enchanted the coat to stay in place on its branch, unbothered by push and pull of the wind. The flowers that Caduceus had started had grown into a tiny meadow, as colorful and bright as their master had been.

Despite the isolated location of the grave, the site itself and the little house a few dozen yards away from it were welcoming. Veth and Caleb brought Holly into the small house to put down their bags and take a moment to collect themselves. The interior of the house was comfortable, and there were several beds of varying sizes. On each wall was a painted message, repeated over and over in different languages. Veth picked up Holly and brought them over to the wall that had a message written in Halfling.

The Mighty Nein welcomes you to the final resting place of Mollymauk Tealeaf. Take shelter here as you pass through. Eat and drink as you require. In return, we ask that you leave behind a bottle of something strong and lively for the next traveler passing through—Molly enjoyed anything that would surprise him. Leave every place better than how you found it.

The words Long May He Reign were carved into the wood above the door, in dozens of different languages. A small shrine to the Moonweaver was set up in the far corner, and the corner nearest to the door housed a handful of chairs and a sturdy table with shelves built underneath it. The shelves held non-perishable provisions for a simple, filling meal and about a dozen diverse bottles of booze. Nott’s old bottomless flask had joined the collection several years prior, and it still sat among the bottles.

Holly solemnly listened as their mother read the message aloud. Then they wiggled out of Veth’s arms and said, “I wanna met him now.”

Outside, Caleb spread a blanket out on the grass by the coat and sat down with his family.

“Hello, Mollymauk,” he said, pulling Holly onto his lap. “There is someone here who would like to meet you. Holly?”

The child perked up. They waved at the coat. “Hi, Mr. Molly. My name is Holly Brave Brenatto-Widogast. I’m five. Mama and Papa are your friends. Mama says when you knew her, she was a goblin called Nott. So when I say Mama, that’s who I’m talking about. She says I came to visit you when I was still in her tummy. But now I’m meeting you for real! I wish I could have met you while you were alive, ‘cause our names match. Molly and Holly. I think that’s cool.”

They paused. “You have a nice coat. It looks like a painting that Aunt Jester made for me once. Papa says you fought with swords. That’s so cool! My brother Luc started training with his crossbow when he was five, so I think I’m old enough to start learning sword-fighting. But Daddy says no.”

“That’s right,” Caleb said. “You can wait until you’re a little older until you go full blood-hunter on us.”

He gave Holly a quick hug, which made the child burrow their face into Caleb’s coat for a few long moments. When they spoke again, their voice was choked up. “I don’t like that Uncle Molly is dead. I never got to meet him. It’s not fair.”

“I know, darling,” Caleb soothed. Veth ran her hand through Holly’s short red hair comfortingly.

“We miss him,” Veth said. “In a lot of ways, his death made us—the Mighty Nein, and me and your father—be better people. If he hadn’t died, we might have stayed selfish. We owe a lot to Molly. But that doesn’t mean we can’t miss him.”

“That’s why we come to visit him sometimes. That’s why we brought you with us, this time,” Caleb added.

“How did he die? Did he get sick?”

Veth looked over at Caleb, silently asking him a question. They were well past the point they where they needed a twisted wire to communicate silently. Are they old enough to know that story? Should we tell them?

They’ll learn from someone, somehow, Caleb’s eyes answered. Veth sighed and settled back on the blanket. Caleb took one of her hands and kissed it, a reminder that he was here with her.

“Once upon a time, a group of friends were torn apart by a cruel man named Lorenzo…”

And as she sat at the grave of her friend, with her husband at her side, she told her child the story of a man whose end was, in many ways, their beginning.

[ashtree11]

The Bard and the Witch

Been writing short stories for a while and here’s my first go at posting one publicly. 

Summary: Tales of a fearsome and reclusive witch fills the tavern night after night, courtesy of the well-received bard, Avalon Mischek. But she is more familiar with the witch than she lets on, beyond the tales that she spins and the warnings that follow her audience. AO3 link 

Bards aren’t an uncommon sight in the taverns throughout the city. They were hubs for entertainment at the end of every day, captivating their audiences with songs and stories. One bard, in particular, can be found in the Waning Crescent Tavern. She sang about the lives of legendary Medea the Wise and Calliope the Enduring to the plucking of a lute; recounted tales of battle to the beat of hand-drum; and serenaded the tavern with the melodies of a flute that captured the freedom of sailing the seas.

While they were all staples of success for her career, her favorite stories to tell were ones about the witch isolated deep within the woods that surrounded the city walls. 

With the help of her trusty lute, she wove chilling fables of unassuming people disappearing without a trace, abducted by the sinister witch if they stray off the forest paths for even a moment. The bard spoke in hushed cadences as she sang of the trees acting as scouts, whispering to the witch of potential victims. Although the bard is often met with good-natured scoffs of disbelief and courteous rounds of applause followed by coins filling her tricorn hat on the floor, she could tell that her audience regarded the forest edge with hesitation and wariness.

Late one night, the bard concluded her final song, and retreated into her usual spot at the table in the corner beside the large fireplace. She poured the day’s earnings from her tricorn hat into her coin bag and sighed as piece after piece clattered inside. It wasn’t her best night by a long shot as more coppers than silvers filled the modest-sized pouch, but money was money. 

She fastened the drawstring of the bag back on her belt, ready to be counted later once she was in the safety of her own home. She relaxed into her chair, tuning the strings of her lute. Passively, she kept an ear open to any latest news and so-called “sightings” of the witch that the people claimed to have.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” insisted one man. “The witch’s cottage is a disgusting thing. Decrepit and surrounded with bones.” His fingers waved in a circle, vaguely illustrating a perimeter. “I swear they’re human bones, but I heard one of the hag’s watch dogs growling from the shadows. I turned tail and barely escaped with my life, I tell ya.” He finished with a long swig of his drink while the two other men he spoke to sat across from him, engrossed in his words.

The bard shook her head and chuckled quietly to herself. The witch didn’t own dogs and she certainly wouldn’t just leave bones laying about so carelessly. She had more class than to have such things going to waste like that. The bard swung her legs up onto the table, her lute resting onto her elevated lap with ease and muscle memory took over as her fingers played a steady tune. It was soft enough as to not overpower the calm energy of the tavern or draw attention to herself. 

Her eyes fell closed. The warmth of the fireplace embraced her and accompanied the improvised melody with crackles and occasional pops.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled the bard out of her reverie. She cracked open an eye and her fingers halted in place along the neck of the lute. Standing over her was a gruff-looking traveler covered in colorful layers of clothing with heavy armor underneath. A scarf obscured the lower half of their face, leaving only bright blue eyes to remain visible. A greatsword was strapped to the stranger’s back, adding another inch or two to their stature. The bard had to admit that the sight was intimidating, especially from her seated position.

“Yes?” the bard inquired.

“A few of the patrons pointed you to me as the bard of this tavern,” said the stranger.

“Sorry, I just finished for the night. I��ll be here tomorrow afternoon if you want a performance,” she dismissed and returned to playing her little tune.

“Actually, my party is about to leave to a neighboring kingdom. We’ve been tasked to clear out a former military fortress that has been housing a band of bandits and we have found ourselves in need of a bard.”

The bard ceased her playing once more.

“All the taverns we visited have shared many recommendations,” the stranger continued. “but they all seem to have mentioning you in common. You are Avalon Mischek, yes?”

“Just Ava,” the bard corrected as she jerked her chin towards the empty chair across from her. The stranger pulled off the greatsword before sitting down. “It’s not often I hear someone looking to hire a bard in this part of the province, so color me curious.”

The stranger sat up in their seat, seemingly delighted that she was at least entertaining the proposal. “The journey will take us a week’s time. My party and I agreed that you would be paid handsomely where half will be given to you when we leave, and the rest will follow once we complete our task.”

“I see,” Ava mused. “And why me in particular?”

The stranger raised a brow. “Fishing for compliments?”

Ava scoffed. “Please. I know my own reputation, I don’t need to ‘fish’ for compliments. I walk away every night with plenty of coin in my bag and a guaranteed welcome back to a tavern who respects my skills. And let’s not forget that you came to me.”

The stranger cleared their throat. “Right, I suppose so. My apologies.”

“Anyway.” Ava plucked a few strings as she spoke, “I only asked because every bard has their own style of playing. I was curious if there was something about mine that makes it more suitable for you and you team than other bards in the city.”

“Well, according to the innkeepers we’ve spoken to, you seem to have the most experience with travel. They have also described you to have a substantial list of songs and legends.” The stranger’s eyes turned downcast. They tapped their nails against the wood table for a moment before continuing, “We are weary travelers and work has been scarce this season, I must confess that my party and I have been lacking in morale. I feel that you would be a good fit for this quest even if you’ll be a temporary addition.”

“I see.” Ava set aside her lute. “When do you leave?”

“In three days.”

Three days. Plenty of time to get her things together, definitely, yet it still felt like short notice. It has been quite some time since she’s traveled anywhere that wasn’t within the city walls. The last party to hire her was maybe a year ago, and the trip kept her busy for nearly three months. The journey left her drained and provided her with an ample amount of material for her songs she hasn’t needed to search out or accept another party’s proposal for adventure.

As she mulled over the decision, the stranger shifted nervously in their seat. Finally, she concluded that a year is probably long enough of a hiatus and this’ll only take a week. She can manage this easily.

Ava sat forward in the chair and grabbed the stranger’s tapping hand to give a firm shake. “Alright, you have yourself a bard.” 

“Really? Oh, this is fantastic!”Despite having a face wrap, she could tell by the crinkle in their eyes that they were grinning. “My party and I have rooms at the Tankard Trove, I’m sure you know the one. Ask the innkeeper for a Thalius Grimm, that’s me.

“Tankard Trove,” she parrotted with a nod. “Easy enough to remember. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Thalius” 

Ava stood up from her chair and packed up her things. She slung the lute onto her shoulder, followed by her hand drum at her hip, then her flute around her neck. With a final flourish, she placed her tricorn hat over her head and gave the stranger a short bow. “I shall see you in three days then.” And she left before they could say another word. She had news to break to a dear friend now.

Ava pushed through the old door, stepping out into the early evening. The sun was setting, casting dark shadows on the cobblestone streets and the people who were making their way to their homes after a long day of work. Her instruments swayed and thudded against her body as she walked hastily through the city, heading straight towards the gates where the ever darkening forest yawned just beyond it. In her peripherals, she could see people steal glances at her, and they eyed the forest line warily. She didn’t pay them any mind though she couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips.

She crossed over the forest border onto the dirt path that carved through the forest floor, and already she could feel the crackle of a magical presence overtake her. The tree leaves shivered as she passed them despite there not being any trace of a breeze. The gravel crunched beneath her leather boots until she stopped at the first fork in the road that divided into two separate routes. She chose the left path, but rather than following it Ava stepped off the gravel where gnarled tree roots lined the edge.

To any inexperienced traveler, the sheer density of the area unmarked by the safety of the gravel road would instill panic and the conclusion of directionlessness. But Ava has walked this forest more times than she could count. She stepped over and around roots, shrubs, and fallen logs as easily as if she were merely taking a stroll. The rustling of the trees overhead grew louder and the crackle of magic from before became a constant hum against her skin, instilling a sense of unease that settled into the pit of her stomach. The shadows elongated, extinguishing the remaining remnants of sunset beams that broke through the trees. Her instincts screamed at her to turn around, turn around before it was too late. She pressed on, knowing that it was just the protective ward just doing its job.

Eventually she broke through the trees and into a small meadow with soft grass and wildflowers with a single cottage at the center. A wisp of smoke curled up from the brick chimney and a dull orange glow peeked out from the drawn curtains at the window.

Ava took a moment to breathe. She rested her hands on her knees, counting her heartbeat in tandem with slow measured breaths. It felt like she had trudged through molasses with how suddenly light her body was. She could have the route memorized all she wants, but there was no getting used to that protection ward, only endurance.

She straightened her posture and continued towards the cottage. As she got closer, the sound of clinking ceramic made its way to her. Descending the wooden steps of the porch came an enchanted clay pot with six spindly legs carrying a flowering succulent on its back. The pot pranced in place, greeting her as she made her way up the steps. Ava gave the pot a small pat on its side and knocked on the red wood door. She readjusted her instruments and waited.

A second passed before a muffled voice responded. “You have a key, Ava.”

Ava rolled her eyes and fished out a brass key from her pouch to insert it into the keyhole. “Just trying to be courteous, October,” she reasoned with a sing-songy lilt and she let herself in. A soft meow called up to her, pulling her attention down at October’s short haired white and brown cat. The cat meowed again, her blue eyes gazing at Ava until the bard finally bent down to scratch her chin.

“Oh is that what you call it?” October said from the kitchen. She looked to be in the middle of cutting vegetables for a simple soup dinner. “You’re earlier than usual. Slow night at the tavern?”

“The hearts of the masses are delicate things. The tales of the infamous witch’s shady endeavors must be told sparingly,” Ava said in a hush, as if she was sharing a conspiracy. All the while she busied herself with unloading her instruments and setting them carefully up against the dining table and chairs.

“How generous of you,” Toby chuckled and stirred her soup. “Perhaps at some point you can tell them that I eat the victims that I supposedly kidnapped off the road. I’ve been feeling an abundance of curious souls venturing a little too close for my taste.”

Ava laughed at the suggestion. “I’ll keep that in mind. At this rate the economy will cease to exist if the merchants become too scared to leave the city.”

Speaking of curious souls, I overheard a man claim to have seen your cottage himself.”

“Oh really? How incredibly foolish of him.” Toby came over to the table, the bowl of soup steaming in her hands. “Are you hungry?”

Ava waved a hand. “I’m fine, I ate at the tavern. Anyway, he was adamant about telling his audience that your cottage was a heinous creation and that you had bones littering your yard.”

Toby scoffed. “How dare he. I’m absolutely offended, I have more class than that.”

“He also thought he heard dogs growling at him.”

“I’m almost tempted to keep a few canines around.” Right on cue, Toby’s cat jumped up on to the table. “But Luna is all I need.”

A pause fell between the two of them. Toby stirred her soup about, pensive and focused while Ava devoted her attention to Luna. 

Then Toby’s head tilted to the side. “Did something else happen tonight?”

“What makes you ask?” Ava deflected, still busying herself with the cat.

“There’s a slight crease between your brows that tells me that there’s something you need to tell me. Also you’ve rarely ever declined my cooking regardless if you’ve already eaten.”

Ava raised her hands in resignation, much to Luna’s chagrin. “Perceptive as always, Toby.”

“Thank you, I try. Now back to my question, Avalon.”

Ava winced at the use of her full name, the universal indication of seriousness in a conversation. “Alright... I was approached by someone tonight, a real adventurer type looking for a bard to join their party in getting rid of some bandits.” She braced herself for a response.

October’s absent stirring stopped. “Oh... I see. Well, I suppose that is has been quite some time since your last outing. I assume you accepted the offer then?”

“I did.”

The witch hummed, then smiled a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “When are you leaving?”

“In three days. It will only be for a week anyway so that’s hardly enough time to miss me right?” she attempted to jest.

To which October only sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh of course. Perhaps without your obsessive rehearsals, Luna and I shall finally have decent sleep.”

Ava laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

“In all seriousness,  Avalon,” October continued, “please be careful. A year is a long time to be out of the action.”

Once more, Ava waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine, I’m not that out of practice. It’s just some bandits hiding out at an old fort, I’ve handled worse.”

“And in even more seriousness, though you’ll be gone for only a week, I will still very much miss you.”

Ava’s confident grin fell. The shift from the light banter to the earnestness in October’s voice caught her off guard. She scratched at the back of her neck “Oh, uh, I’ll miss you too. It’s going to be strange getting back into traveling again even if it’s not for very long...” she trailed.

October chuckled for the first time that night and she leaned forward with her chin propped in her hands. “It’s adorable that it takes so little for the bold and brash bard to become so flustered.”

With indignant huff, Ava crossed her arms. “Why do I bother telling you anything if all you’re going to do is tease?”

“I wasn’t even trying,” she defended through her bout of giggles. “I merely spoke my mind, Ava. Even when you’re out in town all day, I still find myself missing your company. Now, having you gone for a week after having all to myself this whole year... well, it’s going to be an adjustment to say the least.”

Ava groaned into her hands, feeling her face growing warmer by the second. “For someone who lives like a hermit you’re awfully good at making this sound casual.”

“Of course I can, how could I not? You are a dear friend of mine,” she countered with a concerned tilt of her head. 

Right... a friend, Ava echoed.

“You’re frowning.”

Was she? “Just thinking about the trip that’s all.”

“Getting cold feet?”

Ava scoffed. “Please, not a chance.”

“Well good, because as much as I’d hate to see you leave, I think getting out of town will be good for you. New material for songs and such, yes?”

“Again, coming from someone who’s a hermit.” Her gaze drifted towards the window. Night had fully fallen and it was time to turn in. Tomorrow she will need to take the time to gather supplies and dig out her old sword from the depths of her trunk. Hopefully it won’t need to be serviced beyond a simple sharpening.

“Returning home?” Toby guessed as Ava scooted back in her chair.

“I should. I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow.”

“Well then before you go, I have something for you.” She quickly stood up and flittered into her bedroom. 

“What’s the occasion?” Ava called after her. When she received only silence, she added, “You know how I feel about gift-giving, Toby.”

“Oh hush and let me do this for you,” came the muffled response.

After a few moments of scuffling and concerning thumps, October eventually emerged from the room. Her arms were hidden behind her back and her lips were upturned in a soft smile.

“Could you come here, Ava?” she requested.

With a reluctant sigh, the bard relented and stepped forward.  “You really don’t have to give me anything, you know,” she muttered, looking anywhere besides October’s warm brown eyes.

“I know. But it will give me peace of mind that you’ll have it.” And with that, she placed an amulet over Ava’s head. It was a small, silver disk with runes etched along the edges and an obsidian set in the center.

It took less than a second for Ava to remember exactly what this necklace was. “Oh no, October, I can’t take—”

 “Avalon, please,” Toby insisted. “Perhaps it’s childish to be giving this to you even though you’ll only be gone a week, but it feels appropriate and I genuinely will feel better knowing that you have this with you.” 

She lifted the amulet from where it rested against Ava’s chest and held it gingerly in her palm. She stared at it with fondness glimmering in her eyes. “The first protection charm I’ve ever crafted... I’m still very proud of it after all these years. It’s been collecting dust in my wardrobe and it needs to see the outside, much like you.” Her fond expression turned sober, bordering on pleading. “But a charm will only work as long as its wearer wishes it. So please, come home safe, Avalon.”

Ava swallowed, her throat tight as though her heart had lodged itself there. She was hyper-conscious of close they were. Her breaths were quick—oh gods October will surely notice— and any chance of coherent words died on her tongue. Is it possible that October...

“Of course I’ll be back. As if you could rid of me so easily,” Ava jested to mask the anxious hope welling inside her.

“Right, how could I have thought otherwise?" October shook her head goodnaturedly. "I won’t keep you any longer then. Be safe going home. Don’t let the scary witch ensnare you,” she warned with a theatrical wave of her fingers for effect.

Ava only chuckled as she loaded on her gear and stepped out of the warm cottage. It wasn’t until she was at the tree line that she clutched the charm. “She already has,” she uttered to herself.

[my-one-love-is-music]

Free Me From This Prison Called My Head

Summary: It's been a year since Tim fell into a coma. He was small swamped by the hospital sheets in the Cave, but they knew there had to be some way to wake him up. It had been a year. And they were finally going to get him out.

A/N: This is my last fic that I wrote during Nanowrimo back in November and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! I've had this idea for a long time and have been wanting to write it for so long so please enjoy because this was another great piece to put together!

Also on AO3!

Jason stared at Tim’s limp body in the bed they’d set up in the Cave. He was hooked up to several machines that tracked his breathing and heartrate and even his brain patterns to make sure everything was operating as it should. He looked smaller than Jason remembered but he knew Tim had been deteriorating for a while.

That usually happened when the only thing a person was living off of were the liquid nutrients pumped into your veins.

Jason remembered the night when he’d first heard what happened to Tim. He was off on some mission with one of the many crazy scientists that always seemed to pop up. He’d been hit with a dart that injected something into his blood stream, causing him to fall unconscious.

They’d tried to isolate the component that was there, but it took a month to locate it and three more before they even had an initial test dose mixed. Their hope hadn’t lasted long when the injected dose caused Tim to have a seizure.

Jason was glad he hadn’t been present when that happened, but the hollow looks in both Dick’s and Bruce’s eyes had said more than enough, and when he watched the Cave’s footage later he had to slink off to a corner for a few hours to process what he’d seen.

After that instance they weren’t willing to try and make any more antidotes and started to research other cures.

Another two months passed before they decided to look at Tim’s brainwaves and the patterns that appeared. Even then it was only an accident they realized Tim’s brain activity constantly replicated that of someone in deep REM sleep.

It wasn’t common for coma patients to show signs of a deep sleep cycle which lead them to their next point of possible contact with Tim. If they could find some way to get into his head and communicate, they could find out what attacked him, or pull him out of what was holding him under.

And now they’d finally managed to develop a technology that could let them connect with Tim during his dreams. They could only hope that it would work, and they would be able to communicate with Tim in the middle of whatever dream he was living and had been living for the past year.

“We’re ready to go,” Bruce said, pulling Jason from his ruminating thoughts over Tim. “Are you ready, Dick?”

“More than ready,” Dick said where he was spread out on the table next to Tim. He was already connected to his own heart monitor and had a band around his head. “I’m ready to bring him back.”

Bruce nodded. “Close your eyes and even out your breathing.”

Dick sucked in a deep breath and held it before letting it out through his mouth. The twin beats on the heart monitors were loud in the silence between them.

“I’m booting up the machine now. You should be pulled under within the next ten or fifteen seconds.”

Bruce’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen which remained black as Dick’s breathing continued to even out. The image was dim and fuzzy at first and Jason squinted as he watched the screen come to life.

The view on the screen moved around quickly, much how a person would look at the streets around them.

“Is there anything we can do so we don’t have to watch through Dick’s eyes?” Jason asked. “This is making me nauseous and isn’t the best way to get an idea of his surroundings.”

Bruce hummed under his breath and tapped out several things on his computer. Jason blinked when the view on the screen shifted and they were watching Dick look at the buildings around him.

“I gotta admit, I wasn’t actually expecting that to work,” Jason muttered.

“I’m beyond understanding how most of this is operating at this point,” Bruce admitted. “There are a lot of factors here that I never expected to come into contact with in my life.”

“Fair enough,” Jason agreed.

Dick moved down the sidewalk, eyes fixated on the buildings around him as he took in what Jason was quickly realizing was Gotham. It was…lighter than Jason ever imagined Gotham could be. The streets looked clean and people looked happy and not as though they were distrustful of everyone around them or ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“You know what we didn’t consider when we came up with this idea?” Jason asked. “The fact that we can’t talk to whoever’s under and we have to sit on the sidelines.”

“It would’ve taken longer to try and advance the tech we’re using enough to get to that point. If you’d like to keep researching while I map Dick’s progress, be my guest,” Bruce said.

Jason said nothing and watched as Dick jogged across the street and turned towards the largest skyscrapers the city housed. He made a beeline for Drake Industries after catching sight of the sign and the people walking in and out of the doors.

Dick pushed inside, ignoring the people who gave him curious looks at needing to be in the building when he wasn’t wearing a suit. He strode to the front desk and flashed his best smile.

“Hi, excuse me,” he said.

The woman working the front desk looked up and smiled politely. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I have a meeting scheduled with Tim Drake,” he asked.

She frowned and raised an eyebrow, giving Dick a onceover. “He’s currently in a meeting. What’s your name so that I can let you know you’re here?” she asked, voice filled with false politeness.

“Dick Grayson,” he answered easily.

She pursed her lips and looked over him again. “You certainly don’t appear to have the appearance of Mr. Grayson.”

Dick frowned. “I’m sorry, but what’s that supposed to mean?”

She waved her hand. “Nothing, nothing. I will pass on the notice of your visit to Mr. Drake and he can set up an appointment with you when he’s next available.”

Dick smiled. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the help.”

He turned on his heel and rolled his eyes before he strode over to the door, eyes scanning the room around him. He pushed through the doors and turned to the right, walking in front of the large windows so the secretary would see his departure and assume he was leaving.

Once he was out of sight, he made a beeline for the nearest crosswalk and jogged across the street to the other side. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode back in the direction of Drake Industries, slipping into the alley across the street so he could watch the front doors without garnering suspicion.

He nestled into the shadows and kept watch as the sun slowly moved across the sky.

Jason accepted the tea and sandwiches Alfred brought around while they watched Dick wait in the alley. He didn’t budge from his spot and Jason wondered if he could feel hunger in the dream world. Or if he’d bother to eat if he did.

Bruce and Jason froze when they saw Tim push out of the double doors and turn towards the parking garage next door. He had a messenger back over his shoulder and was smiling, posture relaxed as he walked. The bags he usually had under his eyes were completely gone and he looked like he’d never missed a night’s sleep in his life.

Dick wasted no time when he appeared. He wove through the cars that were inching forward down the street and caught up to Tim in an instant.

“Tim!” he said, gripping his shoulder.

Tim gasped and whirled around, pulling out of his grasp. “Wha-what?” he asked. He stopped and squinted at Dick. “Who are you? You’re not looking for money, are you?”

Dick frowned. “No, Tim it’s me. It’s Dick.”

Tim took a step backward, eyeing him warily. “I don’t know anyone named Dick.”

Jason frowned and saw the expression mirrored on Dick’s own face.

“Dick Grayson,” he said slowly. “We’ve known each other for years.”

Tim’s earlier wariness disappeared, replaced with concerned. “I barely know Dick Grayson. The only time I’ve interacted with him has been at charity galas since he’s not involved with the work between Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries. Look, is there someone I can call for you? Are you lost? Whoever you’re looking for, I’m pretty sure it’s not me.”

Dick plastered on a polite smile and took a step back, shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess the mistake was mine. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Tim nodded but still looked concerned. He backed up a step and hesitated but still managed to turn on his heel and walk off. Dick didn’t linger and turned in the opposite direction and hurried away, head ducked to everyone around him.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Let’s find out.” He tapped on his keyboard and the picture slowly faded. Jason heard Dick’s breathing change and in a couple minutes he was blinking his eyes open and sitting up.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, turning to face him.

Dick sighed and pulled off the headband when he sat up. “I don’t know. He didn’t recognize me at all. I don’t know what’s going on but if we can’t get him to recognize us in there, I don’t think there’s any way to pull him out of the world he’s trapped in. Maybe you’d be more persuasive?” he asked, looking at Bruce with hopeful eyes.

Bruce hummed. “I guess that should be our next avenue. You remember how to operate this?” he asked with a wave to the console.

Dick nodded and passed the headband to Bruce. He pulled the wires connecting him to the heart monitor off and stuck them on Bruce, only a moment passing when the machine beeped in protest.

Bruce laid back on the bed and Dick started typing in commands on the computer. Bruce evened his breathing without being prompted and he fell asleep within seconds.

The screen faded into existence like it had the first time and Jason watched as Bruce appeared in the same place Dick had. The light was dim now that night was falling and Bruce quickly navigated the streets, aiming for the library.

Jason was confused as to what he was doing until he sat down at a computer and started researching things about Tim, zeroing in on his apartment complex. He copied down the address and wiped his search history before leaving the library and making his way through the streets towards the apartments.

None of the other people on the street gave Bruce their attention.

Jason squinted at the screen. “Hey,” he said, pointing at the people he passed. “Don’t these people look kind of out of it?”

Dick looked where he was pointing. “I guess? They’re not exactly real so I don’t think they’d behave the same way.”

“No, I know,” Jason said. “But earlier when you were around them, they had more personality, like they knew they were being watched.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with the time of the dream?” Dick asked. “Maybe because it’s night they have less of a reason to be in character I guess?”

“Maybe. I think we should keep an eye on them going forward though,” Jason muttered.

“This whole situation is weird,” Dick admitted. “Technology forcing someone into a dream coma wasn’t something I ever even could’ve imagined happening to us, but here we are.”

Jason sighed and nodded.

Bruce turned the corner on the screen and slowed to a stop in front of a resplendent apartment building. He looked up and over the windows, neck arching back when he tried to see to the very top. He turned towards the door and walked inside.

He smiled and nodded at the receptionist in the lobby and continued past towards the elevators. She smiled back and she didn’t even look suspicious at Bruce’s appearance.

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. He crossed his arms and waited as the elevator steadily climbed before slowing and letting the doors slide open.

Bruce stepped out and strode down the center of the hallway, making for the door at the very end of the hallway set into the opposite wall. He knocked when he approached and waited.

Dick’s shoulders tensed as he waited and Jason leaned forward, waiting to see what would happen.

The door opened and Tim furrowed his brow. He looked up and down at Bruce and for a split-second Jason thought this might work.

“Bruce Wayne?” Tim asked, flabbergasted. “What are you doing here? Why would you need to come here?”

“I needed to inquire about something with you,” he answered smoothly.

Tim stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “And what would that be?”

Bruce clasped his hands behind his back and gave Tim a onceover. “I believe you met my adopted son earlier today. Dick Grayson?”

Tim hesitated. “I ran into someone claiming to be him, but he didn’t act how he usually does…” he started, tone careful as he tried to judge Bruce’s reaction.

Bruce nodded. “That was indeed my son. I’m sorry if he seemed fairly off-putting to you. He can be a bit intense at times.”

“I resent that,” Dick muttered under his breath next to Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued to watch.

Tim nodded. “So, what did you want to discuss about him?”

“I just wanted to make sure that nothing unfortunate came from your interaction with him.”

Tim straightened. “If you’re worried that my opinion of him is going to affect our business deals, I can assure you that I’m not so unprofessional as to allow that to happen.”

“But you really don’t recall the galas where you’ve interacted?”

Tim frowned and shook his head. “We’ve only exchanged pleasantries a handful of times. I’m sure of that.”

Bruce nodded. “Well, I’m sorry to disturb your evening but I’ll leave you to your night.”

“Right,” Tim said. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Bruce said and strode away.

As Bruce approached the elevator at the end of the hall, Jason and Dick saw where Tim was staring after him, still looking completely perplexed and confused.

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit a random button. Once the doors slid shut, he looked around himself.

“Pull me out,” he instructed. “There’s nothing else I can do here.”

“I guess that’s it then,” Dick sighed, tapping away at the computer in front of him. The screen faded to black as Bruce shifted on the table behind them.

Jason glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to find he was sitting up much quicker than Dick had.

“What do we do now?” Jason asked.

Bruce pulled the headband from his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure why but whatever is keeping Tim under knows enough about both me and Dick that it can make us blend into Tim’s everyday life and memories.”

“Sooooo who can we send in to try and make Tim understand that he’s been in a coma for the past year and isn’t actually living his real life?” Dick asked.

Jason huffed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to see some solution for this problem. He wasn’t sure if multiple attempts by Bruce or Dick would change anything, but it would be worth a shot considering how long they’d waited as it was.

He glanced up and found Dick and Bruce looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You might be able to help Tim realize he’s living in his own head,” Dick said.

“What?” he repeated.

Bruce hummed and stood from the bed, ripping the patches from his chest that connected him to the heart monitor.

“We don’t know what kind of technology is working against us. If it has access to public records, it would know that because of Tim’s background we’re the two who Tim would most likely have come into contact with. There might be a workaround since you didn’t grow up with wealthy parents,” Bruce explained.

“And for all intents and purposes, you’re legally dead,” Dick pointed out.

Jason hesitated. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

“It’s the best we can do right now,” Dick agreed. “If this doesn’t work then we can regroup and figure something else out. Maybe we could all go in and confront Tim together instead of trying to do something one-on-one while Alfred watches over us.”

Jason sighed. “Okay,” he agreed. “I guess it can’t hurt anything.”

He picked up the patches and stuck them under his shirt, finally bringing an end to the shrill beep from the machine once it detected a heartbeat again. He shoved the headband on his head and stretched out on the hospital bed, shivering slightly.

He took deep breaths, trying not to think about what was about to happen. Bruce and Dick had both already been inside Tim’s head so there was no reason to worry about potentially adverse effects from it.

Jason heard the soft click of keys at the computer and almost thought the feeling of dozing was in his mind if his limbs weren’t becoming weighed down on the table. He closed his eyes, the tug more insistent now that he was being pulled under.

He furrowed his brow, feeling like he was floating for a moment but completely aware of his mind. The sensation was close to being underwater where the sounds around him were muffled.

A horn honked in the distance as he tried to swim upward to consciousness and understanding. Soft conversations floated around him and warmth spread over his skin as a bird chirped over his head.

Jason blinked and found himself standing in the middle of the sidewalk of Gotham city. The sun was low in the sky signaling the early morning hour. No one gave him a second thought even as he stayed put between the lines of traffic moving in opposite directions.

He took a deep breath and turned, glancing at the nearest street sign to orient himself. He was a couple street signs over from Drake Industries. He could only hope that he would be able to catch Tim before he made it to work.

Jason jogged down the street and hurried through a crosswalk before the light changed. He darted around several people walking in the opposite direction and narrowly avoided clipping someone carrying a drink carrier filled with coffee cups. He spotted the front of Drake Industries and slowed to a walk as he approached, searching for Tim amidst the crowd.

He looked across the street but didn’t see Tim anywhere. He wished he had a watch that was set to the current time in Tim’s head.

“Sorry, excuse me. So sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jason looked up and found Tim pushing between people strolling on the sidewalk. He looked flustered and panicked and his tie was crooked.

Jason jogged to intercept his path.

“Excuse me,” Jason started.

Tim glanced up at him, obviously ready to tell him he didn’t have the time when he froze, eyes going wide.

“You’re dead.”

Jason frowned. “What?” he asked.

Tim flailed backward, mouth opening and closing. He raised a hand and pointed at Jason. “You’re Jason Todd. You can’t be here. You’re dead.”

Jason glanced around and found a few people taking notice of Tim’s panicked state. He raised his hands to try and calm him down.

“Look Tim, just calm down for me for a minute. I just want to talk to you.”

“How-how do you know my name?” he asked, the color draining from his face.

“How do you know mine?” Jason countered.

Tim froze, his panic ebbing in the face of confusion.

“We’ve never met in person, have we?” Jason pressed.

Tim opened and closed his mouth. “I…I don’t know how I know your name,” he admitted. “Why do I know who you are?”

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk? A coffeeshop maybe? Somewhere we can have some privacy to talk that isn’t the middle of the sidewalk.”

Tim nodded, head going up and down frantically. “Yes. Yeah. There’s a shop just around the corner. Follow me.” He turned on his heel and started power-walking back the way he came.

Jason jogged to catch up and stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping up with Tim easily. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Jason fought to remain relaxed and calm in the face of Tim’s uncertainty and panic and what was probably going to be fear once they worked through the reality of Tim’s situation.

Tim pushed through the wooden door of a small coffeeshop nestled between buildings.

“Do you want anything?” Tim asked, glancing at the counter.

“You don’t need to buy me anything,” Jason said quickly. “But I’d recommend getting green tea to calm down considering.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Feel free to find somewhere to sit.”

“Sure thing,” Jason said. He turned to the shop and spotted a table in the back corner away from the rest of the customers.

Jason walked to the corner and took the chair that kept his back to the wall, giving him a view of the shop and through the windows at the front of the building.

Tim dropped his bag next to the chair opposite Jason and sat down, hugging the cup tightly between his hands.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay,” he repeated, fighting to compose himself. “Can you explain to me why I know who you are even though I’ve never talked to you before?”

Jason sighed and leaned forward. “I know this might sound crazy and you might not believe me at first, but I hope that I can convince you what’s really going on. This, what you see around you,” Jason said, waving at the coffeeshop. “This isn’t real.”

Tim stared at him. “What?” he asked. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

Jason nodded. “I am. Whatever you do with Drake Industries, whatever life you’re living, it’s not really yours. You do work with Wayne Enterprises and you’re a fucking badass. You know how to kick butt like the best of us.”

“What do you mean ‘the best of us?’”

“You’re...” Jason huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re a vigilante. You fight crime at night and protect the people of Gotham and I do too. A year ago, you got hit with some technology that forced you into a coma. We’ve been trying to find some way to pull you out since and this is the first contact we’ve been able to make with you.”

Tim stared at him. “A vigilante? Me? I’m like, the weakest person ever. There’s no way I could legitimately fight someone.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “But you can. And you do a fucking amazing job at it.”

Tim continued to stare, and Jason had one fleeting moment of hope that Tim might believe him. They could get started on working out how to free Tim from his head and get him out.

Tim shook his head. “You’re crazy, I…that’s right you have to be crazy. None of this is actually real. It’s not that you’re dead, it’s that I don’t know you and you’re pulling my leg.” Tim nodded to himself as he continued to work through his rationalization. “I’m just exhausted and willing to be fed any lame story at this point. This is some elaborate prank. I’m sure my friends put you up to this.”

Jason’s stomach sank. “No, Tim wait.”

Tim shook his head. “I must really be stuck in a rut if I’m willing to even consider things like this,” he muttered as he grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered running his hands down his face. He gave himself a second to think before he shoved his chair back and stood, ready to follow Tim from the shop and make him understand.

The sounds around him became fuzzy as he took a step and he blinked, trying to clear his vision that darkened quickly. Nausea curled in his stomach and he coughed and wheezed when too-bright light shined over his head.

“What the fuck?” he asked, rolling onto his side to see Bruce and Dick watching him. “What the hell did you pull me out for?” he accused. “I could’ve tried something else.”

“We didn’t pull you out,” Bruce said slowly.

Jason stilled and pushed himself upright, carefully taking the headband off to cradle in his lap as the last wisps of nausea started to dissipate. “What?” he asked.

“We didn’t pull you out,” Dick repeated.

“Then how the hell am I back out here?” he asked.

Dick and Bruce shared a look before they shook their heads, helpless.

“It could be some form of interference from what’s been keeping Tim under. If it registered your presence that might’ve been its attempt to delete your code form it’s system but since you’re not part of it, it just temporarily deleted your presence and forced you back to the real world,” Bruce explained.

“But that can be a good thing, can’t it?” Jason asked. “If it was trying to delete my code, that means I can affect whatever world it’s created. It means I can influence Tim and have him realize what he’s been pulled into.”

“We’ll need to do more research to make sure there’s no way for this to kill you permanently,” Bruce warned.

Jason waved his hand and pulled the patches from his chest, tossing them onto the hospital bed. “Make sure it’s quick. We have a way to talk to Tim, we shouldn’t waste any more time than it’s already taken to get this far.” He walked around the hospital bed and shut off the heart monitor to stop it’s incessant beeping.

“We’ll get you back in as soon as we can,” Dick said, moving to the computer next to Bruce.

Jason nodded and set the headband on the hospital bed pillow. No matter what they found, he knew he was going to go under again. They had a chance to save Tim and they weren’t about to waste it no matter what the risk was going to be.

He looked at Bruce and Dick as they worked on the computer. He couldn’t do much when they hoarded the computer, but he wasn’t going to bug them. He was going to go upstairs and make himself a sandwich and share a pot of tea with Alfred while he worked through everything he’d just seen.

The technology was powerful beyond belief if it could change Tim’s attitude within the span of a few seconds. Tim had almost believed him. Jason was sure of it. He just needed to give him a little push to get him there.

He sighed and crossed the floor to the stairs that would take him back up to the Manor proper. He really needed that tea.

~~

Tim sat down in the chair of his office, still clutching the cup of tea he’d gotten from the coffeeshop. He was trying to make sense of the whole encounter and he knew there couldn’t be any stock in it. He didn’t know the person he’d met. There was no reason for him to know him and it was nothing more than a sick joke.

He’d just been frazzled from oversleeping and needing to get ready for work. The day before had been weird too.

“Must be a full moon coming,” he muttered as he took a sip of the lukewarm tea some stranger had recommended. Normally he didn’t get anything other than coffee, but he was surprised that the tea had helped calm him down after his morning rush.

The only thing he needed to worry about was the work on his desk and making sure Drake Industries was running as it should. He could get through a day at work, he’d meet his friends for dinner and when he got home, he could fall into bed and sleep and push all of this from his mind.

Tim pulled his laptop from his back and logged in quickly, ready to try and distract himself with work. This was normal. This was where he was supposed to be, not having weird conversations with strangers in the back of a coffeeshop.

~~

Tim found himself running down the street for the second time that day after work. His mission to distract himself had succeeded in making him lose track of time so he was running late for the dinner he’d planned with his friends.

Half the day had been spent staring off into space or reading the same sets of numbers three times before he realized his mind was still in the back of that coffeeshop with the strange man who’d approached him on the street.

Tim pushed through the door of the relaxed restaurant they’d picked and gave the hostess a smile as he passed, making a beeline for the booth his friends had already been seated at.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking the open seat on the aisle they’d left for him.

“What’s up with you today?” Frank asked. “You’re never late for dinner.”

“Just been distracted,” Tim said, smile tight.

“What’s going on?” Lisa added, bracing her forearms on the table. She was always eager for some gossip.

“The strangest thing happened to me this morning,” he admitted, fiddling with the thick menu in front of him.

That got the attention of the whole group and they all leaned in.

“This weird guy came up to me on the street this morning and for some reason I blurted out that he couldn’t be here because he’s dead. And then he took me to a coffeeshop and tried to explain to me that I’ve been in a coma for the past year and the world around me is a dream or something. Basically, that my life isn’t not real. I mean, I don’t know who set up this elaborate prank, but it was super weird.”

“He’s an idiot, whoever he is,” Lisa sniffed, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“Yeah a complete nutjob,” Frank agreed, frowning.

“He should be locked up for harassing someone on the street like that,” Trent scoffed. “I can’t believe you would let yourself be taken to a coffeeshop by that guy. He could’ve easily pulled you into an alley and mugged you or murdered you.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, trying to find something to say. He’d expected some form of reassurance form them that it was just some weird joke or maybe even a confused person or conspiracy theorist. But he hadn’t expected them to get so hostile about a stranger he’d run into on the sidewalk.

It didn’t really make sense.

“Right, yeah,” Tim said, voice weak. “I’ll be more careful next time and won’t get drawn in by strangers.”

“Good,” Lisa said, her posture relaxing. “Now, what are you all thinking of getting?” she asked, flipping open the cover of her menu to look over the options she already knew by heart.

Tim swallowed and opened his own menu, for once wanting nothing more than to ditch his friends and their dinner in favor of crawling into bed to try and forget everything around him.

Maybe if the world around him was a dream, he could wake up into something better and less confusing the next morning.

~~

“Okay what did you find out?” Jason asked, jogging down the steps to the Cave. “It had been a day since his first encounter with Tim and he was itching to get back into his head to talk to him again.

“We don’t think there’s any chance you could be killed by whatever technology is keeping Tim under,” Bruce said carefully.

“So, there’s no reason for me not to go back in,” Jason said simply. “Let’s do this then.”

He walked over to the table and jammed the headband on his head. He carefully stuck the patches from the heart monitor on his chest and turned it on, another steady beeping filling the Cave alongside Tim’s heart.

“We’re not sure you should go back in,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start, old man.” He ignored how Bruce wrinkled his nose. “This is the best chance we have to finally free Tim from this villain-induced prison and we should take it. I might be able to make some progress and if there’s less of a chance of this tech being able to kill me, all the better. We shouldn’t waste the one chance we’ve worked so hard to get.”

Bruce’s lips thinned but he nodded and moved over to the computer.

Jason took a deep breath and let his eyes slide shut.

The transition was easier this time and the world inside Tim’s head came into focus quicker than it had the first time. He opted to think that was because he’d done it once already and not for anything sinister.

Instead of appearing on the sidewalk where he had the first time, Jason found himself standing in the coffeeshop where Tim had walked away from him. No one around him seemed bothered by his appearance and Jason made his way for the front door, pushing out onto the sidewalk.

He strode towards the corner and blinked when Tim hurried down the sidewalk in front of him.

“Tim!” he called.

Tim froze, head whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Jason,” he breathed.

Jason frowned, taking in the bags under Tim’s eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping forward. "You look like you haven’t slept.”

Tim nodded, finally pulling himself away from where he was frozen in the middle of the flow of people. He hurried over to Jason.

“You’re real,” he said, taking in every inch of Jason. “You really are real.”

“Of course I’m real. Why wouldn’t you think I’m real?” Jason scoffed.

Tim’s hysterical laugh pushed out of his chest unbidden. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. “Do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

Jason shrugged and shook his head. “We could go back to the coffeeshop from yesterday,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

Tim shook his head, features contorting in panic at the thought of speaking in public. “No, I’d rather…I’d rather go somewhere more private. Do you mind if you come back to my apartment?”

“Not at all…” Jason said.

Tim nodded, looking relieved. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.” He grabbed Jason’s hand and turned back the way he came.

Jason glanced at the people they passed but let himself get tugged along, not willing to put up any fight, especially when Tim was so tense.

They covered the street blocks at a quick clip. And Jason was surprised when no one spared them a second glance at their pace.

The apartment security guard glanced up at their entrance and seemed confused to see Tim back when he’d just left but he didn’t say anything at Jason’s appearance. Tim pulled him into the elevator and hit the top button. He repeatedly pressed the button to close the doors, but they still shut much slower than Tim would’ve liked.

He tapped his foot impatiently as they rose from one door to the next, the light cycling through the numbers at a snail’s pace.

“Tim, you can relax it’s okay,” Jason tried, keeping his voice gentle.

Tim shook his head. He glanced at Jason, eyes still wide and bit at his lip, chewing on the chapped skin.

“Finally,” he muttered when the elevator beeped at his floor and the doors slipped open. He tugged Jason out behind him and hurried down the hall, eyes locked on the door of his apartment.

He tugged his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door with one hand, not willing to let Jason go now that he’d shown his face again. He tugged Jason in behind him and slammed the door shut, sliding the deadbolt into place.

“There,” he sighed, bracing his hands against the door as his head dropped between his shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” Jason asked.

Tim’s hands slid down the wood with a soft scratch and swung at his sides. “No,” he admitted, finally turning to face Jason. “I thought I was going insane.” He gripped his hair and tugged. “You just showed up and told me that the world around me was fake and then you disappeared, and I haven’t seen you for a couple days.”

“A couple of days?” Jason asked. “It’s only been one day.”

Tim frowned and stared at him. “What?”

“Only a day has passed in the…outside,” he said.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I guess time flows differently here?” Tim offered.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, keep going. What else has happened?”

“My friends have gotten so hostile since I told them about our little chat the first time. They keep asking about you and I swear the last time I went to work, when I looked away from my computer, I could see blue code covering my screen but when I looked back, the spreadsheet I was working on was right there where I’d left it. Jason, I…I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to crazy and kept looking for you and when I couldn’t find you anywhere…I almost checked into a hospital,” he admitted, voice rising in his panic.

“Tim, Tim,” Jason said, gripping his wrists as he grew more hysterical. “Look at me.”

Tim reluctantly met his eyes and Jason could really see the kind of toll this was taking on him.

“Listen to me,” Jason said slowly. “You’re not going crazy. You’re not losing your mind. I’m real and I’m going to help you get through this. You need to get in control of the world around you. As real as everything might seem, you’re in charge here. All of this is built inside of your mind. Once you take control, you can end this and free yourself.”

Tim took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do that. How do we do that?”

“I think the best place to start is to keep unraveling what’s around you. You said you saw blue code on your computer screen?”

Tim nodded.

“Look for that in other places. Break down the reality in front of you until there’s nothing left but your own thoughts.”

“Yeah, but how?” Tim asked. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Sure you can,” Jason insisted. “You’re smart. You have the best mind of all of us bats. If anyone can get out of this mess, it’s going to be you.”

“Okay, so let’s say you’re right,” Tim said carefully. “Let’s say I’m as smart as you say and can figure all of this out. I’ve got a business degree. I don’t know anything about undercover operations or whatever else.”

“Yes, you can do all of that. And you know how to fight. You can kick anyone’s ass who gets on your bad side.”

Tim stared at him like he was insane. He shook his head.

“There’s no-”

Jason huffed and threw a punch at Tim’s face. Tim took a step back to plant his rear foot and blocked the blow with his forearm. Jason smirked and stepped back, letting himself relax.

“See?” Jason asked. “I don’t think you’d be able to do that without any martial arts training.”

“I blocked a punch,” Tim said, staring down at his palms. “This is impossible.”

“No, it’s not,” Jason said, grinning down at him. “I think it’s time we got planning.”

“I guess I should make some coffee?” Tim suggested.

Jason chuckled. “That would probably be for the best.”

Tim waved Jason into the kitchen and changed the settings of his coffeemaker. He measured out two spoons and poured them into the top.

“Okay,” Tim said, sitting across the island from Jason as he left it to brew. “What are we going to do?”

“Like I said, work on finding those cracks in the world around you. You said your friends have gotten hostile since you first told them about me. I think they might be someone to watch out for. Stay guarded around them, especially if they start asking more probing questions.”

Tim nodded. “Right, yeah I can do that. This is going to take a while isn’t it?” he asked.

Jason shrugged and hesitated. “Probably yeah. Whatever’s been keeping you in a coma is pretty powerful stuff, so it’s not going to be easy.”

“How-” Tim stopped and hesitated. “How long have I been trapped in here?”

Jason pursed his lips. “It’s been…” He let out a heavy breath. “It’s been a year since you were hit.”

Tim paled and gripped the edge of the counter, swallowing harshly. “Really?” he squeaked.

Jason sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It took us a long time to figure out what was keeping you under. And then even longer before we managed to put together the tech to get us in here.”

Tim’s expression hollowed and Jason wanted to pull him close and tell him everything was okay. No one deserved to lose so much of their life.

“Ti-”

Jason pursed his lips together as the world blacked out around him and the sounds muffled before returning with an unfortunate pop. He groaned and pressed a hand against his head, blinking his eyes open to find the ceiling of the Cave arching high above him.

“What the hell?” he asked, turning to look at Dick and Bruce who both somehow looked perplexed.

“We didn’t pull you out,” Dick said, shaking his head.

“It’s the same thing that happened last time,” Bruce said with a frown. “Something recognizes you as a foreign presence and is forcing you from Tim’s head to keep from interfering.”

“Well you’ve got to get me back in there,” Jason insisted. “We were finally making a breakthrough.”

Bruce nodded and tapped against the keys of the computer. “Just relax and we’ll get you back in. I’m sure Tim’s confused enough as it is.”

Jason took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the sensation of being pulled under. Several seconds passed and it didn’t come. He frowned and opened his eyes, turning to look at Bruce.

“Anytime now, old man,” he said.

“It’s not working,” he said, frowning. “Something’s blocking the signal from connecting. I’ll keep working on it. Just stay there.”

Jason sighed and nodded, raising his head and slamming it back down into the pillow under his head. He was tired of waiting. They’d waited a year before they got to talk to him and now he was going to have to wait again. Tim was going to have to wait for him to come back.

~~

Jason was sipping from the glass of water Alfred had brought for him while he was waiting when he felt the first tug. He stretched towards the small table and set the glass down, making himself comfortable when he closed his eyes and found the sounds changing around him.

He opened his eyes and found himself back in Tim’s apartment as something shattered.

Tim was standing next to his coffeepot, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re back,” he whispered. “I thought you weren’t coming back, Jason, I…I thought-”

Jason shook his head. “We had some trouble getting me back into your head. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. How long was I gone anyway?”

“It’s been three days,” he whimpered, sounding and looking small.

Jason let out a breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t do it on purpose.” He looked at Tim and he nodded.

Tim cleared his throat and bent to start cleaning up the shards of the mug he’d dropped.

“So, what’s happened while I’ve been gone?” he asked.

Tim tossed the ceramic shards into the trash and wet a washcloth to clean up the coffee covering the floor and cabinets.

“My friends asked about you again, but I did my best to make everything seem as normal. They’ve calmed down a bit and seem less suspicious than they did right after I told them about our first meeting.”

“Have more cracks started to appear?” Jason asked.

Tim nodded. “A few. They always disappear when I’m looking at something directly, but it’s like nothing really exists in my periphery anymore. I think my…I think the people who I thought were my friends are watching me. I don’t know if I need to fight them or what, but I’m worried something will have to happen with them.”

Jason grinned. “Well, I do like a good fight. And it is the fastest way to get results. Are you thinking we do this Matrix style?”

Tim frowned. “What style?” he asked.

Jason stared. “You can’t tell me you’ve never seen the Matrix?”

Tim shook his head.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god whatever tech is keeping you stuck in your head better be the reason you don’t know this movie. If it’s not, we’re going to be watching this as soon as we get you out of here.”

Tim chuckled and bit his lip. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What am I like? Outside in the real world? I know you said I’m a good fighter and good with whatever work it is you do, but…what do I do in real life?”

“Well you know the whole vigilante bit,” Jason said, walking around the kitchen island to brace his hands against it. “Other than that, you’re in college. Doing something with computer science, I think. Or maybe business. Or both, I’m not really sure at this point. So, you’ve got a bunch of homework and classes you sometimes go to and other times sleep through. At least that’s what I’ve heard anyway… And then you’ve got your work at W.E.-”

“Wait,” Tim interrupted, holding up a hand as he smiled. “W.E. as in Wayne Enterprises? I work at Wayne Enterprises?”

Jason shrugged and nodded. “You pretty much run it since Bruce doesn’t give a shit. He’s more concerned with flying around at night in spandex.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to have a conversation with Bruce once I get back,” he said, tone low and threatening.

Jason grinned. “He’s watching right now. I’m surprised he hasn’t come in here to confront you already.”

Tim chuckled and ducked his head. He was quiet for a moment and Jason knew he was working himself up to ask his next question.

“What’s…what’s our relationship like?” Tim whispered. “Are we like…friends or what?”

Jason shifted on his stool, trying to figure out how to explain their complicated history. “We…aren’t really friends, I guess? We didn’t have such a good history when we first met each other. Kind of hated each other a bit not gonna lie, but we worked through that in time and we’re on pretty good terms now.”

Tim frowned and didn’t look very happy at what Jason said. “Do you think…is it possible that once I get out of here, could we be friends? I don’t think I want to go back to whatever things were like between us.”

Jason smiled. “Sure, Tim. We can try to be friends once you’re out of your head.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim whispered. “For everything, I guess.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jason warned. “We have to get you out of here first.”

Tim huffed a laugh and smiled. He looked up at Jason through his eyelashes. He opened his mouth to say something else when Jason disappeared in front of his eyes, winking out of existence as soon as he’d come.

Tim frowned and sighed. He knew it wasn’t Jason’s fault that he was pulled out and it was whatever was messing with him and keeping him trapped in his own head, but it still made his chest ache. He’d have to fight harder and get out of his head. He just hoped that whenever Jason showed up, he’d be able to help him fight whatever was keeping him trapped.

~~

Tim slammed his hand down on the alarm clock next to his head. He groaned and sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was just starting to peek through the blinds in front of his window, but he wasn’t in a hurry to jump in the shower and head to the office. He’d never go to the office again. At least, not the one inside his own head.

He threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a hoodie on his way to the bathroom. He made a face at his reflection and ran a hand through his hair, trying to pat it down and make it look presentable.

He stripped out of his pajamas and left them in a pile on the floor before pulling on his change of clothes. He sighed and ran through the mental list of supplies he’d put together the night before.

Somehow, someway, he’d managed to find a small shop that sold weapons and fighting knives. He’d also found reviews that listed the shop as selling smoke grenades and flash bombs. Tim wasn’t sure if that was legal or not, but he didn’t care when his main goal was to gather enough supplies to fight the people keeping him locked in his head.

Tim stuffed his wallet and phone into the pocket of his hoodie and slipped his arms through an empty backpack. He grabbed his keys and gave one last look around his apartment, eyes landing on the seat where he’d last seen Jason during his visit the night before.

He expected to come back once he got his supplies, but this was his chance to break free of whatever was holding him inside his head. The idea of freedom and having control over his life once again was thrilling and already forcing adrenaline into his veins as he prepared for the fight to come.

Tim locked the door of his apartment behind him with a strange sense of finality. He glanced down the hallway and found it empty, not that he really expected much else. His footfalls were heavy on the wooden steps leading to the first floor.

He nodded at the security guard who gave him a curious look at seeing him out of his normal business clothes. Tim pushed through the front door and stepped into the warm, morning sunlight.

He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and raised his hand, unsurprised when a cab stopped for him and let him inside. He rattled off the address of the shop and settled in for the ride once they pulled away from the curb.

Now that Tim thought about it, he’d never had an issue catching a cab even in the worst of Gotham’s traffic. Someone always stopped to pick him up. Normally, he was dressed in something nicer because of his day at the office or whatever show he’d attended for the night, but now that he was in an unimpressive pair of jeans and a nondescript hoodie, it was less likely he would’ve gotten a ride so easily.

The larger and more ostentatious buildings fell away into something uniform. The businesses were smaller, the street corners marked by international food sellers and corner markets for minor grocery shopping.

The cab slowed and pulled over to the curb.

“That’ll be $21.25,” the cabby said, holding his hand over his shoulder.

Tim passed him a twenty and a five and pushed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. The cab hesitated a moment before it pulled away and Tim strode to the bar-covered door of the small shop. He pulled it open, a loud electronic beeping sounding over his head.

The shopkeeper looked up and narrowed his eyes at Tim. He straightened and Tim could see the muscles stretched the sleeves of his shirt.

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice low and gruff and filled with suspicion.

“I’d like to purchase a few things,” Tim said, turning to face him, but not closing the distance.

The man lifted his chin. “Have at it then.”

Tim nodded and started down the first aisle. He spotted an array of collapsible, aluminum bo staffs. He lifted one form the rack and extended it with a flick of his wrist. The metal was cool in his hand, but the weight was comforting. He tilted it back and forth, testing the balance.

He nodded to himself and pressed the ends together to collapse it and carry through the store with him.

The knives were next, and Tim picked up four of them, going for the simplest design that had the best weight and balance. He stacked them on top of the staff resting in his palm.

Tim passed the aisle with escrima sticks and smaller weapons until he found the small flash bombs and smoke grenades. He piled as many in the crook of his arm as he could hold. He wasn’t sure how handy they’d be in his fight since he was flying blind, but at this point it was a life or death situation and whatever money he did have wouldn’t do him any good if he lost.

He doubted he’d be allowed to gallivant around in his own head now that he was making an effort to escape and break the hold he was under.

Tim eased the armful of goods he had onto the counter, not wanting any of them to roll off or to accidentally set of the bombs he needed to purchase.

“Quite the array of things you’ve got there,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He lifted the bo staff and expertly extended it. “Nice choice with this one. Perfect for your form actually. And the knives are paired well with it,” he added, balancing one of them on his finger. “What exactly do you need the rest for?” he asked, eyeing Tim over the smoke and flash bombs.

Tim shrugged. “That’s not really important, is it?” he asked, pulling out a wad of cash. “How much?”

He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Tim. “$250.”

Tim raised an eyebrow and knew that the price of everything he’d picked up was closer to $180. He watched the shopkeepers’ eyes as he first peeled off ten twenty dollar bills. He continued, adding three more to the stack, but he didn’t stop there, adding more to the pile until there was $500 sitting on the counter.

He slid the bills across the counter and the shopkeeper gaped at him. He looked between the bills and Tim. “Who are you?”

Tim pocketed the rest of the money he’d brought with him. “That’s none of your concern.”

He shook his head and swiped the money from the counter, stuffing the bills into the register. “I swear you better not be doing anything weird with that. I don’t need the cops hunting me down because you’re going on some freaky murder spree.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, slipping his arms out of the straps of his backpack to load his purchases into it. “It’s nothing like that. You’re going to be perfectly safe.”

The shopkeeper didn’t look convinced, but Tim didn’t much care as he turned on his heel and walked out of the store.

The electronic beeping sounded over his head and Tim blinked as the ground shifted under his feet and the stores around him disappeared and were replaced by a large, empty parking lot.

Tim scowled at finding his “friends” standing across form him, all wearing matching grins dripping with malice.

“I’d like to say this is a pleasant surprise,” Tim said, swinging the backpack around to pull the bo staff from it. “But this isn’t pleasant or a surprise.” He extended the bo with a flick of his wrist and settled back into a fighting stand, spreading his feet so they kept the weight distributed under his shoulders.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “You were always such a bore, but I truly thought you’d never be smart enough to put the pieces together.”

“Should’ve known you were the ring leader, Lisa,” Tim said. “You always were the most demanding of the bunch.

She sneered at him. “You can try and insult me as much as you like but I’m so glad I don’t have to watch over your scrawny ass anymore.”

“I was getting tired of all the monotonous lunches and dinner parties,” Trent agreed, rolling his head.

“And now we can force you to stay here forever and actually enjoy ourselves instead of playing along with this ridiculous charade,” Frank added.

“Too bad for you, I’m not planning on staying trapped in here any longer. I’m going back to my life that you stole me away from. And I’m going to track down the maniac who decided it would be fun to leave me stuck in here. I’m going to make him regret ever coming into contact with me.”

“Doubtful,” Lisa said, tilting her head to the side at an unnatural angle. “Trent, Frank, go have some fun.”

They grinned and sprinted towards him. Trent was faster than Frank and got to him first. Tim parried his first punch with the staff and used the added range of it to swing the bo around and knock the opposite end against the side of Trent’s head.

He staggered back, clutching the side of his head as Frank closed the distance between him and Tim. Tim thrust the end of his staff to hit him in the chest, but Frank caught the end of his bo between his hands and twisted, yanking Tim towards him.

Tim grit his teeth and dropped his weight, leaning backwards as Frank tried to make a grab for him. Keeping the staff gripped tightly in one of his hands, Tim smacked Frank’s hands to the side and swung forward, knocking his forehead into Frank’s nose.

He shouted in pain and staggered backwards, releasing Tim’s staff to clutch at his bleeding nose. An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him back in a chokehold against Trent’s chest. Tim grit his teeth and reflexively gasped, but no oxygen entered his lungs.

He swung his staff over his head and knocked Trent on the head. The grip relaxed around his throat as Trent groaned in pain and Tim took the chance to stomp on his foot and twist in the grip. He broke the hold and stepped forward, swinging his elbow behind him to connect with Trent’s temple.

Tim ducked under the arm Frank extended in his direction and dropped his bo, wrapping his hands around Frank’s forearm and bicep. He hunched forward and threw Frank over his back and onto the ground, forcing the air from his lungs.

Tim swiped the bo from the ground and put space between himself and Frank and Trent while he dug around his backpack for two daggers. He collapsed his bo and stuck it in the pocket of his hoodie.

Frank struggled to sit up as Trent charged at Tim again. Tim ducked under his hold and thrust the dagger into his chest, slicing between his ribs and into his heart.

Trent choked, staring at Tim with wide eyes as blood slipped out of the wound and coated Tim’s hands crimson. He staggered backward and looked down at his chest where the hilt of the dagger protruded from his chest.

He coughed and blood dribbled from his lips, covering his chin and dripping onto his shirt. Tim turned back to Frank and heard a thump behind him as Trent fell to the ground. Frank was struggling to sit up and Tim swung out his leg, connecting with the side of his head to send him rolling across the floor.

He groaned as he came to a stop on his stomach and Tim stalked over to him, aware of Lisa’s eyes on him. He used the toe of his sneaker to roll Frank onto his back. He switched the hold on his dagger and raised it over his head before he knelt and plunged the blade into Frank’s chest.

Frank stiffened, a wounded sound wrenching itself from his throat. He fought to grip Tim’s arm and force the dagger from his chest, but his strength was weak and he didn’t have much leverage.

His movements slowed as he coughed, blood sliding out of the side of his mouth. Tim stood and turned away from his limp body, finding Lisa sneering at the dead bodies of her comrades.

“Useless,” she muttered. “You know what they say, never trust anyone else with the important tasks.”

Tim rolled his eyes. He pulled the last two daggers from his backpack and gripped them tightly in his hands. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m going to get rid of you now.”

She cackled and held out her hand, a jagged-blade dagger appearing in her hand. “I think you misunderstand. It’s your turn to die.”

Tim grinned and raised the daggers in his hands like he would if he was going to fight hand-to-hand. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking displeased.

“I can’t die in my own head.”

Her grin turned feral. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Tim staggered back when Lisa appeared in front of him, slashing the dagger across his chest. It ripped through the fabric of his hoodie with a sick sound and drew a thin line of fire on his chest.

He hurried backwards, putting space between them as warmth seeped from his chest. He could tell it was shallow thanks to his hoodie, but it wouldn’t hold up against attacks that fierce for long.

Tim lowered his stance and growled. Lisa didn’t give him a chance to close the distance before she was in his space again, but he was prepared for her this time. He parried her blows, metal slicing against metal loud enough to raise goosebumps on his arms.

He was thankful for both of his daggers against her singular weapon and from the glimmer in Lisa’s eyes, he doubted she’d materialize another weapon considering how much she was enjoying the challenge of fighting him.

Tim caught her blade on the hilt of his dagger and swiped out with his other dagger, tearing the collar of her shirt and slicing the skin underneath.

She growled as blood seeped into her shirt and she drew her blade back, slicing down where Tim had been a second ago, but he spun to the side, putting a few feet of distance between them.

“Not bad,” she purred, stalking towards him. “Not bad at all for someone who forgot how to fight.”

“I’ve never forgotten,” Tim spat. “It’s always been there, waiting for me to use.”

He darted forward to make a counterattack, wincing when her blade cut into his bicep and was held their as the muscle flexed. He gripped her shirt and placed the edge of his blade against her neck.

“Whatever wounds you give me now are going to be gone as soon as I wake up.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, chuckle strangled and low in the back of her throat as she arched her head away from his blade.

“But I am sure that I don’t need to trust anything say,” he snarled, dragging his dagger across her throat.

Her eyes widened and Tim dropped her to her feet. She staggered backwards, hands going to her throat as blood poured from the wound and coated her shirt.

Tim closed his eyes, finally feeling at ease as everything fell away around him.

~~

Jason leaned against the hospital bed, chewing on a sandwich Alfred had brought him when Tim’s heartrate spiked. He swallowed and looked at Tim’s body and then the monitor keeping track of his vitals.

“What’s happening?” Jason asked, looking at Bruce who’d frozen at the computer.

He strode over and shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“No shit,” Jason said. “Tim’s never done this before.”

Bruce picked up a small penlight and lifted Tim’s eyelid, looking into his eyes. “No response,” he muttered.

“Send me in,” Jason said, shoving the headband onto his head.

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Send me in. Something could be happening in his head and he might need help.”

Bruce’s lips thinned and he nodded. He moved over to the computer as Dick and Alfred rushed down the stairs and sprinted over to them.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked.

Jason shook his head. “We don’t know, but I’m going in to see if I can help.” He stretched out on the table, keeping his eyes on the ceiling as he tried to ignore Tim’s frantic heartbeat and how it made his chest ache.

“I’m transferring you in now,” Bruce said.

Jason let out a heavy breath and waited for the tug that dragged him under. It didn’t come and he furrowed his brow.

“It’s not working,” he said, turning his head to look at Bruce.

Bruce frowned. “Something’s wrong. It’s like what happened after you were forced out of Tim’s head. It’s just not letting you in.”

Jason growled and sat up, tearing the headband off. He opened his mouth to say something else when the rhythmic beating of Tim’s heart ended and a long line of noise emanated from the machine.

Everyone froze for a moment, eyes snapping to Tim before they jumped into action. Alfred rushed for the AED and Jason jumped from his bed, hurrying to Tim’s side as Dick checked his breathing.

“He’s not breathing,” Dick murmured.

“No shit,” Jason said. He lined his hands up in the center of Tim’s chest and immediately started compressions. “I’m not going to let him die. Not after everything he’s been through.”

He paused his compressions as Dick gave him two rescue breaths before counting under his breath again. Alfred appeared at his side with the AED and cut a line down Tim’s shirt around Jason’s hands. He pulled it away and peeled the paper backing from the pads and stuck them to Tim’s chest.

Jason listened to the mechanical voice read out the instructions and reluctantly pulled back as it readied the shock. A blip sounded on the heart monitor, but monotonous tone continued without interruption. Jason grit his teeth and returned to his chest compressions as the machine readied the next charge.

“Come on,” Jason growled.

He pulled his hands back once the machine prompted him and two blips sounded on the heart monitor this time, but Tim’s heart stayed dead.

He saw Dick’s hands shaking as he framed Tim’s face for the rescue breaths.

“Come on, Tim. Come back to us,” he pleaded under his voice.

He pulled back for the third charge, holding his breath as Tim’s heart held steady for a handful of beats before stilling again.

“Again,” he growled. “Again.”

Each time the AED shocked Tim, his heart held on a little longer, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Jason,” Dick murmured when he started compressions again.

“No,” he snarled, not taking his eyes off Tim’s drawn face. “I’m not giving up on him. We’re going to save him.”

He pulled back his hands at the machine’s prompting and waited, balancing on his toes as the shock was given. He prepared to start compressions again when he realized Tim’s heart hadn’t stopped like it had the other times.

Withered hands shoved him away from the table. Jason stumbled back and watched as Alfred began to check over Tim’s body.

“Is he…” Jason started.

“I’m not sure yet, Master Jason,” Alfred said, voice tense. “I need to check him over before I can determine anything, and he still needs to wake.”

Jason nodded and Bruce moved to the other side of the table, offering assistance where he could.

“Come on,” Dick said, pulling Jason towards the stairs. “You’re not doing any good here and you might as well get some rest while you wait and stay out of the way.”

~~

Jason stared down at the cold cup of tea framed between his palms. His leg bounced under the table as he waited for any update on Tim’s condition. Dick had tried to keep him occupied but Jason’s mind was far below the Manor in the Cave.

“Master Jason?”

Jason shoved his chair back and jumped to his feet, knocking over the cup in his hand and sending tea over the table.

“How is he?” he blurted.

Alfred smiled despite the mess he’d just created and stepped to the side, holding the door open for him. “He’s awake and stable. Be gentle with him.”

Jason nodded and sprinted from the room. He heard Dick’s voice behind him but couldn’t make out what was being said.

He jumped the last few steps to the Cave floor and sprinted for the hospital bed. Bruce was standing at Tim’s side and he’d been propped up with several pillows. Tim smiled at him as he approached.

“You’re okay,” Jason said, eyes roving over his gaunt features. “I thought you were going to die but you’re okay.”

Tim nodded. “Bruce said my heart stopped,” he rasped, voice weak from disuse.

Jason swallowed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim said.

Jason stepped closer, wanting to touch but he forced his hands to stay at his sides. “What happened in there?”

“He fought the physical manifestation of the technology keeping him trapped in his head,” Bruce answered. “The last attack on the ringleader of sorts happened when his heart stopped. We think it might’ve been a failsafe to kill Tim if they couldn’t keep him incapacitated in his head.”

Jason nodded. “But everything’s okay now, right?” he asked, eyes darting from Bruce to Tim and back.

“As okay as I can be after losing an insurmountable amount of muscle mass,” Tim quipped.

The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up at the joke. “And you remember everything?”

Tim nodded. “Everything you told me and everything that you didn’t have time to tell me.”

“Good,” Jason sighed. “Good.”

“We’ll start physical therapy in the morning,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “For now, we’ll keep you down here and feed you light food so as not to upset your stomach.”

“I’m ready,” he said, lips thinning with determination. “I’ve lost enough time and I’m ready to get back to my life.”

Bruce nodded at Jason before he left them behind. Jason looked over his shoulder to track Bruce’s movements and waited until he was out of the Cave before he said anything.

“I really am glad you’re okay,” Jason muttered.

“I know, Jason. Alfred told me you wouldn’t stop doing chest compressions even after my heart stopped so many times. Thank you…without you I’d still be stuck in my head and probably wouldn’t have any form of escape since Bruce and Dick couldn’t get through to me when they tried.”

Jason’s cheeks heated and he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I also remember the Matrix which I have indeed seen and you making that reference makes so much more sense now,” Tim added.

“It’s a good movie,” Jason supplied.

“It is,” Tim agreed. “You feel like watching it?”

Jason furrowed his brow and looked at Tim.

“I’m sure we can pull it up on the computer and watch it on the big screen. I just wish I could have some popcorn.”

Jason grinned and hurried around to the head of Tim’s hospital bed. “I know what we’re going to do now.”

~~

Jason chewed on his lip where he was standing several feet from Tim’s hospital bed. Tim’s face was screwed up in pain and as weak as his grip was, he was clutching the edges of his hospital bed as Alfred worked to move and flex the muscles of his legs that had atrophied from disuse.

Several days had already passed since he’d woken up and he was able to hold down thick broths and soup, but the physical therapy was slow going.

Tim’s forehead was covered with droplets of sweat and he breathed harshly through his nose as he forced his head back into the pillow behind him while he suffered through the exercises Alfred was giving him.

Jason hated seeing him in so much pain, but he knew Tim wasn’t going to let this kind of thing keep him down, not when he had a life to get back to. Staying in bed forever didn’t suit him and he’d gone crazy after a day confined to the bed even when they tried to entertain him with movies and the internet.

“We’re almost done with this leg, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, gentle voice soothing despite the pain he was in. “And then you’ll have a short break and can drink some water before we get started on the other side.”

Tim nodded, teeth clenched shut from concentration and pain.

“And there we are,” Alfred said, stretching out his leg on the mattress.

Tim breathed deeply and let his fingers relax. He sank back into the pillows and Jason could see the exhaustion pulling at him.

“Hey,” Jason said, stepping up next to the bed.

Tim’s head rolled to the side to meet his gaze and Jason could see the emptiness lingering with Tim’s frustration. Jason smiled and squeezed his trembling hand.

“You’re doing great. At this rate you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Tim winced and nodded even if he didn’t believe it.

“Alright, Master Timothy, let’s start on the other side.”

Jason stepped away, giving Alfred better access as he lifted Tim’s opposite leg and began to work the muscles. Tim sucked in a breath and his fingers returned to clawing at the mattress, but he suffered through the pain the best he could.

~~

Tim groaned when Jason lowered him into the steaming water of the bath. He leaned heavily against the side of the tub and Jason perched on the edge, running his fingers through Tim’s sweaty strands.

“You doing okay?” Jason asked, giving Tim a moment to enjoy the warmth before he got around to helping wash him.

Tim shrugged, eyes sliding shut as he let out a heavy breath. “I’m tired,” he muttered. “And everything hurts, and I just want to get back to my life.” He sniffed and Jason watched him purse his lips together in what he knew was an effort to keep from getting emotional.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason said, sliding off the edge of the tub to kneel at Tim’s side. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tim met his gaze and sniffed, tears shining in the corners. “I’ve already lost so much though.”

“But you’re back now and you’re getting stronger every single day.”

“I feel weak,” Tim huffed, looking at the tub around him. “I feel like I’m never going to be strong again and there’s no way that I’m ever going to be out of that fucking hospital bed and I just want to be able to walk across the floor which I can’t even do because the muscles in my legs aren’t even strong enough for me to stand.”

Jason cupped Tim’s face and swiped his thumb through the tears sliding freely down Tim’s cheeks.

“You may not see how strong you’re getting, but I can see it. I can see how incredible you are and how amazing and badass what you’re doing is. So many people wouldn’t be able to come back from something like this, but you get up every day and you fight and you’re going to be able to walk again. You’re doing to be able to stand. You’re going to be able to fight.”

Tim gripped his wrists and Jason forced himself to hold Tim’s gaze instead of glancing down at his thin fingers that were barely able to reach around his wrists.

“It’s going to take a while and you’re going to need to be patient, but I know you’re not going to be like this forever. You can do this, Tim. And if you had to choose between having your full range of movement but still stuck in your head, and having to go through months of physical therapy while being in control of your life, wouldn’t you choose this every time?”

Tim let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to be stuck in my head. I never want to be that helpless again. But why did this even have to happen? Why was I there? Why did I have to get hit? Why did I have so much taken from me?” he whispered.

Jason swallowed, trying to keep his heart from shattering into a million pieces in his chest.

“I don’t know, Tim. I don’t know why this happened to you and you’re the one who has to go through this.”

Tim’s face crumpled and he choked on a sob. Jason sighed and pulled him into an awkward hug over the side of the tub. He didn’t hold him too tightly, still afraid that he might break Tim’s brittle form, but he tried to project as much comfort into the hug as he could.

“It’s going to be okay, Tim. You’re going to beat this and you’re going to be amazing for it.”

Tim nodded against his shoulder, heaving breathless sobs into his shirt.

Jason held him as he cried, fighting down his own emotions. He’d have a chance to feel and process everything that was happening later. Tim didn’t need to see his weakness when he was already in such an emotional state.

Once Tim had his breathing under control, Jason pulled back and wiped the last lingering tears from Tim’s cheeks.

“Are you ready to get cleaned up now or do you need another minute?” he whispered.

Tim shook his head. “I’m okay now.” He glanced at the tub and shivered.

“Is it too cold?” Jason asked.

Tim shrugged. “I just don’t retain heat as well as I used to,” he muttered.

Jason dipped his fingers into the water, finding it just above the side of lukewarm. “I’ll drain some water and add some hotter water to warm it up,” Jason said, reaching for the plug.

He let it drain, keeping an eye on Tim as he crossed his arms and shivered as the waterline dipped lower down his stomach. Once it reached his waist and the band of his briefs he wore in the tub, Jason stoppered the drain and turned on the tap to fill with hot water.

As the tub filled, he grabbed a washcloth and lathered soap into it, rubbing gentle circles into Tim’s skin to clean off any accumulated dirt and sweat that had collected. Tim sighed and leaned forward as he cleaned his back, relaxing under the gentle touch.

Jason smiled, more than happy to help Tim in any way he could.

Once he was finished washing Tim, he grabbed the showerhead and pulled up the diverter, rinsing the soap from Tim’s form.

He prodded Tim until he tilted his head back and ran the water through his long strands, wetting them thoroughly.

“We’re going to need to cut your hair soon,” Jason murmured.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “It’s getting too long. Keeps getting in the way.”

“I could shave it,” Jason said with a smile. “Give you a nice buzzed look so you don’t have to worry about it growing out too quickly.”

Tim’s lips twisted into a grimace. “If you do that, I’ll look like a cancer patient.”

“We’ll just give you a lot of beanies to wear so you don’t have to worry about people staring at your head.”

“I think I’ve got plenty in my closet. Wait-” he said, jolting up.

Jason’s hands immediately went to his shoulders to steady him and his weak muscles. “Woah, calm down. What is it?”

“What happened to all of my stuff?” Tim asked, looking up at him. “I had an entire apartment with clothes and furniture and, shit, food in there.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Jason said, pushing him to relax. “We cleaned out the fridge within a week of you falling into the coma and Bruce has paid rent on your place. Alfred even went by once a month to clean. Everything’s still there so no need to panic.”

Tim let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Good. I guess I shouldn’t be so concerned over material things, but-”

“Hey,” Jason said, voice gentle as he washed Tim’s hair. “It’s understandable. That was your place and you had a life there, but it’s nothing you can’t go back to. Your neighbors might just be a little surprised to see you around again.”

“Yeah…” Tim said and let Jason continue in silence.

~~

Jason fidgeted outside of Tim’s bedroom. He’d long since moved out of the Cave now that he was getting stronger. He was getting better at walking but any long distances he needed to cover were still done in a wheelchair. Jason was beyond proud of the progress he’d been making and even though Tim still had his bad days, he was happier about his current state now that he could move around just a little more easily.

Jason raised his hand and rapped on Tim’s door.

“Come in,” Tim called.

Jason let out a heavy breath and wrapped long fingers around the doorknob before he turned it and pushed inside. “Hey.”

Tim looked up from where he was lying in bed, his laptop in his lap. He smiled. “Hey. What’s up? You didn’t come to pull me away from my work, did you?”

Jason rolled his eyes, feeling some of his anxiety and worry ease. “Of course not. Normally I’d be all too happy to pull you away from the computer but you’re intent on getting caught up with your college classes and I can’t really blame you for that.”

“Good,” Tim said. “Although I might be persuaded to put it away if Alfred’s cookies are involved.”

“Good to now,” Jason said, trailing off as he fought to get the words out for what he’d really come to ask.

“Is something wrong?” Tim asked, eyes raking over him intensely.

“I��I just wanted to ask you something,” he mumbled.

Tim straightened and closed the lid of his laptop, setting it to the side as he gave Jason his attention. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I know this might seem a little sudden or weird, but I was kind of hoping that…I mean you know we’ve been getting closer to each other since you woke up and we definitely don’t have the same hostility as we did before, but that doesn’t mean you want the same things I want and-“

“Jason,” Tim said, gentle smile pulling the corners of his lips upwards. “Just ask the question.”

“Would go out? I mean, would you go out? With me? On a date?” He cringed after getting the last question out, hating that he couldn’t do this eloquently.

Tim stared at him, blinking rapidly as he fought to process the question Jason had asked. “What?” he blurted.

“I’d like to go out on a date with you,” Jason clarified.

“But why?”

Jason frowned. “What do you mean why?”

“Why would you want to go out with me? I can barely walk. I look ill. Where are we going to go where I’m not going to be stared at like I’m some zoo animal?”

“You’re getting better and looking healthier every day,” Jason said, frowning as his defenses rose over Tim. “And no other person in the world has any right to know what’s going on in your life or why you look the way you do. They’re assholes and you have every right to go out into Gotham and live your life. Just because they don’t understand or aren’t smart enough to comprehend that it’s none of their business, doesn’t mean you should shut yourself away so they don’t have to see you at all.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Tim huffed. “Where are we going to go when I can barely walk?”

Jason closed the distance between them, bracing his hands on the edge of Tim’s bed. “You just leave that to me,” he said. “I just need to know whether you’d like to go out with me or not.”

Tim stared at him, eyes flitting around his face. “I-” he cut himself off and pursed his lips. “Okay,” he agreed. “Yes, I’d like to go out with you.”

Jason smiled, his heartrate taking off in his chest, even if Tim reluctantly agreed because of his current situation. He knew Tim wanted to go with him. He wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t. But they were going on a date. And that was something Jason had been wanting for a while. Ever since Tim woke up.

“Great,” he said, straightening. “I’ll get everything setup. Does Friday night work for you?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “My schedule isn’t exactly filled with demanding people, Jason.”

Jason shrugged. “Just want to make sure. You could easily have a chunk of time on Friday reserved specifically for you.”

Tim smiled, expression fond. “No Jason, I don’t have any time scheduled for me on Friday and I’m good to go on our date whenever you get it planned.”

Jason nodded. “Good. Now, I have some planning to do and I’m sure you’d like to get back to your schoolwork.”

“Bye Jason,” Tim sang, already reaching for his laptop.

Jason closed the door behind him and took a handful of steps before he sagged against the wall, butterflies swarming inside him as giddiness wrapped his heart in soft velvet.

~~

“Okay, are you ready?” Jason asked, rolling Tim’s chair to the back door of the Manor.

“Yes, Jason,” Tim huffed, fingers itching to pull the blindfold from his eyes to see what Jason was planning.

“Here we go,” Jason breathed, sliding the blindfold off Tim’s eyes.

Tim stared through the open back door of the Manor at the small table under the white canopy that had been erected. A pair of candles rested on the white tablecloth and two place settings were waiting for them, one with a chair and one without.

“You did all of this?” Tim asked, looking up at him.

Jason nodded. “You were nervous about going out in public and I thought the best thing to do would be to have a nice dinner in the backyard. And I don’t think any restaurant could’ve been better than Alfred’s cooking.”

Tim smiled, his eyelids drooping as he got a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“Even more beautiful up close and with food,” Jason said, rolling the chair down the ramp that lead from the back porch to the lawn below.

He positioned Tim in front of the open side of the table and took a minute to fill their glasses from the pitcher of water resting between their plates.

“I wanted to bring wine, but Alfred wouldn’t let me,” Jason said, taking the seat across from Tim.

Tim smiled. “Was it because of my lack of body mass or because I’m underage by a year?”

“Strangely enough it was because of your lack of body mass. I think he’s worried I’m going to get you super drunk and take advantage of your virtue.”

Tim chuckled and took a sip from his glass. “Anyone who knows you, knows that you’d be the last person to take advantage of anyone’s virtue.”

“I resent that,” Jason scoffed even as he smiled.

“You shouldn’t,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a good guy and anyone would be lucky to know you.”

Jason cleared his throat and fought down the rush of blood to his cheeks.

“So,” Tim said. “What are we having for dinner?”

Jason shrugged. “I let Alfred decide. I didn’t want to put too much pressure on him since I’m sure he’s going to have very strong opinions about what you should be eating.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “At this rate, I’m not going to get anything but soup.”

“Don’t be so sure, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, striding across the lawn with two covered trays. “I wouldn’t restrict your diet on such an important and fun evening.”

He set the trays in front of them and lifted the lids to reveal a small side salad and a plate filled with mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, a small slice of roasted chicken with a light gravy, and a small, single-serving chocolate cake.

“Enjoy,” Alfred said, bowing slightly before he made his exit with the tray lids.

“Wow,” Tim breathed. He snatched up his fork and dug into the mashed potatoes, shoving a bite into his mouth. His eyes slid shut and he whimpered. “These are delicious.”

Jason ducked his head to hide his smile. “I’m glad you like it.” He ate his own food slower than Tim did. They didn’t talk much but Jason was more than happy to listen to Tim enjoy his own food after being stuck on broth and light meals for so long.

“Jason?” Tim asked.

He glanced up and found Tim staring at his chocolate cake with a wistful smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Thank you. For all of this. It really means a lot to me that you did this,” he murmured, raising his gaze to meet Jason’s.

“I’d do anything for you,” Jason admitted, voice soft and quiet between them as the sky turned pink over their heads.

~~

Jason’s voice was soft in the muted light of Tim’s room. They’d pulled the curtains shut to block out the sunlight and turned on the lamp sitting on Tim’s bedside table. He was slowly making his way through the Harry Potter books they’d decided to pick up on impulse and Jason had insisted on reading to him.

Jason loved getting to read to Tim. He loved books and reading in general, but it helped Tim relax and pulled him away from his homework that he was quickly working through. It was a miracle he wasn’t trying to get caught up with W.E too, or he’d be working himself to the bone and would be ten times as exhausted as physical therapy left him on some days.

Tim sighed and Jason glanced down at him, finding his head resting on his shoulder. The words died in his throat and Tim looked up at him, question evident in his gaze that he didn’t want him to stop reading.

Time froze between them. Jason let the book fall against his thighs and glanced down at Tim’s lips, watching as Tim’s tongue darted out to wet them. He dragged his gaze up to meet Tim’s eyes and found something shining in them that he was sure he’d seen before, but Tim had quickly hidden once he’d caught him looking.

Jason ducked his head, unable to resist the pull between them and pressed their lips together.

Tim sighed and pressed against him, his arms wrapping around his shoulders. Jason abandoned his book and wormed his arm behind Tim’s back, pulling him tightly against his side. He tried to be gentle with his thin frame, but couldn’t resist wrapping Tim in a tight hug. Tim was quickly becoming stronger and more well-defined now that he was building up muscle again and Jason found that he was losing reasons to keep Tim at a distance.

Tim pulled back, smile pulling his lips wide as he snuggled against Jason’s side. Jason pressed one last kiss to the top of his head and grabbed his book, balancing it with one hand on his legs as he continued to read, his other arm still wrapped around Tim’s back.

~~

“Alright Master Timothy. When you’re ready,” Alfred said, hands hovering around Tim’s form.

Jason kept his distance, letting Tim balance on his feet next to the hospital bed. He could see the anxiety and worry in Tim’s eyes at walking longer distances without the help of a cane or crutches. But there was hope there, too, even if it was dim. Jason knew Tim was trying to force it back, trying not to get his hopes up and expect too much.

Any form of setback had been hard enough for him when he first started physical therapy. Now, if he wasn’t able to walk on his own when he’d been hoping to do that for so long would only end with Tim shutting himself away in his room for the rest of the day. Jason knew there was nothing he’d be able to do to pull Tim from the depression that would send him into.

Tim sucked in a deep breath before he moved one foot forward. He shifted his weight, testing it to make sure his leg would hold before he completely came off his back leg. His gaze stayed focused on the ground as he walked and with each step he took, he was more certain in his movements even if progress was slow.

Jason spotted the tears forming in the corners of Tim’s eyes before he sniffed. He paused when he was halfway across the floor and Jason gripped his biceps where his arms were crossed, thinking Tim had made it as far as he could.

“Master Timothy?” Alfred asked.

Tim shook his head and took another shaky breath. He raised his gaze and met Jason’s eyes. He took another step forward and Jason spread his arms, waiting for Tim to meet him.

Tim’s smile grew as he continued to close the distance between them. It was a shaky smile and tears slid down his cheeks, but he’d finally shown himself that he was getting back to where he needed to be.

Jason was tempted to sweep Tim up into his arms once he was within reach, but he let Tim come to him and wrap his arms around his shoulders, closing the last inches between them just because he could.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jason murmured into his hair as Tim trembled against him.

“Thank you,” Tim breathed. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Think you can make it back?”

Tim’s laugh was wet and heavy. “I wish, but I’m not sure my legs can hold up for another trip.”

Jason nodded and looked up at Alfred. “I think he’ll still need crutches to get back.”

Alfred smiled. “Not to worry, Master Jason. That was already excellent progress.”

~~

“I’m getting really tired of these crutches,” Tim grumbled as he wrestled them out of the car.

“I know, but before you know it, you can chuck them across the yard or light them on fire and you never have to use them again,” Jason said, easing Tim out of the car so he could get them under his armpits.

He grabbed their bag and beach towels and braced the large umbrella against his side as he shut the trunk and locked the car. The sun was shining brightly over their heads and even if Tim couldn’t exactly frolic through the sand, Jason was happy to have brought Tim to the beach and gotten him out of the house.

Tim carefully moved from the paved parking lot to the sand, the transition to less firm ground awkward for his untrained muscles and unsteady as the crutches shifted unexpectedly.

Jason didn’t force him to walk too far before he set the bag down and got to work setting up the umbrella to block them from the sun. Tim tossed his crutches to the side and stood in one spot as he rolled out the towels next to each other.

Jason helped him sit down and stretch out his legs before he took the towel next to him. He could see people giving them curious glances, but he fought to ignore them and would keep Tim’s attention away from them as long as he could.

Tim sighed and tilted his head back, inhaling the salty smell of the ocean as a breeze blew in from the water.

“Thank you,” Tim said, turning to look at him.

“For what?” Jason asked, smile tugging at his lips as he pulled out the bottle of sunscreen and poured some into his hand.

“For bringing me here. I hadn’t even realized how much I missed being outside. It’s been so long since I’ve been away from the house.”

Jason paused in rubbing the lotion into his skin. He glanced at Tim who looked peaceful and happy despite the work that he still needed to do to get back to full strength. He finished rubbing the sunscreen over his skin quickly and rolled onto his knees, shifting closer to Tim.

“Tim,” he prodded.

Tim looked at him, grin pulling at his lips. Jason never would’ve expected Tim to look at him with that kind of care in his life, but he was glad he got the chance to see it and was the reason for it being there.

Jason ducked his head and pressed their lips together. Tim tangled his fingers in Jason’s hair and kept him pressed closed, content to stay together under the umbrella.

“You want some ice cream?” Jason asked, pulling back.

Tim chuckled. “Maybe later. I’d like to just sit here and enjoy this. And I should probably put on some sunscreen first,” he said, snatching the bottle from Jason’s towel as Jason stretched out on his back. “I don’t need to add sunburn or skin cancer to my list of medical problems.”

Jason hummed and tucked his hands under his head, content to lie next to Tim and listen to the waves crash and the laughter of the other beachgoers as the breeze blew over them.

~~

Tim giggled as Jason set him down at the edge of the waves. They’d left the crutches back with their things and as much as Tim wanted to walk on his own, Jason didn’t want him to exhaust himself before he could even enjoy the ocean.

Tim gripped his hand and tangled their fingers together. “Jason?”

Jason squeezed his hand. “What is it?”

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to fight again?”

Jason huffed and pressed a kiss to the side of Tim’s head. They’d had this conversation more times than he could count, and he always had the same answer.

“I know you can. You’re strong and you’ll be back in fighting shape before you know it.”

Tim sighed and wiggled his toes in the sand as the waves crashed around his ankles. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

“Of course I am. Just trust me, okay?”

Tim looked up at him, eyes gleaming. He nodded and Jason pulled him a little further into the water, letting him experience the world through all of his senses once again.

~~

Tim gasped for breath as he fought to finish another pushup.

“Last one, Tim,” Jason said, kneeling at his side.

Tim managed to straighten his arms before his knees hit the mat and he fought to catch his breath, sweat dripping from his nose and chin.

“Good, good. You’re getting stronger.”

Tim flashed him a tired smile before he sat back on his heels and grimaced, wiping the sweat from his face.

“That’s it for the strength training today. Come on, let’s stretch out your muscles and then we can do some laps around the track.”

Tim nodded and pushed himself to shaky feet as he started to stretch out his tired muscles. Feeling like a limp noodle was never the best feeling in the world but he knew he was getting stronger and that made it worth it.

And watching Tim go through training to get back to where he wanted to be was astounding and he wished everyone knew how dedicated and strong Tim was.

Tim was everything Jason wasn’t and Jason felt like the luckiest guy in the world since he got to spend his life with him and watch him grow and love him for all he was worth.

~~

Jason ducked under the reach of Tim’s arm as he threw another punch at him. He tapped Tim’s ribs twice before putting space between them. Tim’s movements weren’t any less precise than they’d been when he was at his full strength, but he still tired more easily.

“Come on, Tim. Is that the best you’ve got?” Jason taunted, bouncing from foot to foot.

Tim grit his lips and rushed towards him, intent on getting the next hit in. Jason evaded, keeping distance between them as Tim chased him around the mat. They’d been building up to this for months now.

Tim had been eager to get back on the mats and spar and Jason had wanted to make sure he wasn’t at risk of injury before they started fighting. He knew Tim wouldn’t hold back even if Jason pulled his punches and he didn’t need to injure himself and go through even more physical therapy. Jason wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle that. Not now. Not when he was so close.

Tim swung out his leg to kick him in the side and Jason caught it before the blow could hit his side. He used the hold to flip Tim onto his stomach.

“Oof,” Tim said as all the air rushed from his lungs. He stayed there, taking in deep breaths as Jason released his leg.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, dropping down next to him.

Tim rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, a faraway look in his eyes.

Jason sighed when he saw the moisture gathering in the corners. “Tim…”

Tim shook his head and smiled, pushing himself into a sitting position. “It’s nothing, I swear. Just…thank you for this. Thank you for helping me and being there and doing everything when you didn’t owe me anything. I never thought I’d get back to this point again. Not after the year I spent in a coma. It means a lot to me. Everything you’ve done and continue to do. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

Jason wrapped his fingers around the back of Tim’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I want you to have everything you want and need. And you don’t need to make it up to me. I did all of this because I wanted to. I did all of this because I love you, Tim.”

Tears slid down Tim’s cheeks and he ducked his head, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “I love you, too, Jason,” he whispered.

Jason smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Tim’s head. “Why don’t you come patrolling with me next week? We’ll stay away from the heavy hitters, but I think you could handle some muggings or break-ins.”

Tim’s head snapped up and he looked at him with wide eyes. Jason wheezed when Tim’s arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured into his neck.

Jason chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. “Anything for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple.

~~

Tim landed on the rooftop, breathing heavy and limbs shaking with energy and adrenaline. The robber they’d caught was tied up in the alley below and Jason had already sent the call to the GCPD.

“You okay?” Jason asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. His suit was lose on his thin frame, but Jason knew it wouldn’t be long before Tim made up his lost muscle mass and was back where he used to be.

Tim stared out over Gotham and took a deep breath of the polluted and tainted air, once again realizing just how much he’d been missing during the year he’d been stuck in his own head. The fake Gotham he’d lived in hadn’t had the same familiarity. It hadn’t been home. And he hadn’t had one of the most important things in his life. He hadn’t had Jason.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything, Jason.”

Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder, knowing just how much emotion he was holding back. He might not be able to keep it hidden the rest of the night and knew Tim would probably need someone to hold him once they got back from patrol and the full force of what he’d done hit him.

But for now, they had more minor criminals they could stop, and Jason was going to help keep Tim going for as long as he could. He smiled and pulled Tim across the rooftop to the edge. They looked at the street below and listened to the police sirens in the distance as they hurtled towards their location for the gift-wrapped criminals.

Jason took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around Tim’s waist. He shot his grapple and they jumped, continuing their run across Gotham’s rooftops.

 If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[artificialqueens]

Back to You (Craquaria) ~ Part 4/4 ~ Pippin

AN// fourth and final part of this journey! I don’t know if I’m going to publish the drawl of an epilogue I’ve written - let me know what you think on my blog here xo

Back to You

Part IV: Family

Brianna couldn’t exactly pinpoint when she stopped playing happily families, didn’t quite know when she well and truly fell in love with Aquaria and the little girl with bright eyes and lush curls. There was a constant niggling feeling in the back of Brianna’s mind that told her she wasn’t meant to be part of their lives - and she couldn’t quite work out when that feeling went away.

She remembered the day that Evie called her ‘mama’ for the first time, when she looked down at this tiny blue eyed creature and stood in shock, Evie’s repetition of the call dragging Brianna back to reality. At that point, there was still something inside of Brianna that told her that Evie wasn’t hers, that she wasn’t Evie’s mama - but something bigger told her that in Evie’s perfect, undisturbed little world; she was mama, not Brianna.

She looked back on Evie’s first birthday, when she looked at Aquaria in awe as she blew out the candles topping Evie’s yellow ducky cake, when she realised that Aquaria had kept a human alive for a whole year. She was so proud of her girls, so proud of all of their achievements - and yet that voice pounded in her head louder than the cheers of ‘happy birthday’ from playgroup mothers she couldn’t tell apart.

She knew it wasn’t on Evie’s first day of school, when Evie, innocent as ever, dragged her mommy and her mama into her classroom, boasting that she was lucky enough to have two moms. Brianna had never seen a child get kicked down so fast, and she couldn’t help but hold Evie in her lap as she cried and cried while children sneered and mothers stared blankly. Brianna knew Evie was different in the most positive of ways, she could spell six letter words and do her three times tables, but right now she was different because she didn’t have a daddy. Looking back on it, she found it stupid, but in that moment a part of Brianna agreed that maybe it would be better for Evie to have a dad rather than a soulmate as a second parent.

*

Yet, for every bad thought that loomed over Brianna’s head - twenty that warmed the cockles of her heart crossed her mind afterwards. For every negative voice that called out, there was a smile, a coo, a laugh - with Evie the good had always outweighed the bad.

Brianna had never explicitly asked Aquaria if she was considered a part of her little family - but as time went on, Brianna realised that she hadn’t needed to ask. There were little things Aquaria said or did that alleviated her worries. It was all the small things - ’message me when you get there’, ’don’t forget breakfast’, ’tell Bob I say hi’ - that made her realise that Aquaria considered Brianna her family. Her actions spoke louder than words ever could have.

“You’re in your head again,” Aquaria sighed one night, watching as Brianna braided, untied, and rebraided Evie’s hair while staring blankly at the living room wall, “talk to me, B.” They weren’t far into their relationship when Aquaria learned that Brianna would tune out when she over-thought, that her mind would shut down when the negative voices became too powerful. Bob always told Aquaria that the feelings of isolation and rejection were things Brianna worked on over the years, that sometimes she struggled with feeling wanted. Aquaria supposed that being with this little family of hers brought back those feelings for Brianna, thought that maybe Brianna needed something that had a sense of permanence, but didn’t dare ask if that were the truth.

“I’m okay, just thinking.” Brianna looked down at the messy brunette hair that laid sprawled out across her lap, hums of content falling from Evie’s lips while she slept. There was nothing the little girl loved more than a head massage from her mama, and Brianna was too wrapped around her finger to refuse.

“Think out loud, then. Tell me what’s wrong.” Aquaria grabbed Brianna’s fidgety hand and squeezed it tightly, not letting go until Brianna spoke up.

“It’s stupid, it really is. I just feel… replaceable - like if I were to disappear tomorrow it wouldn’t matter and you would just go on with your lives. I’m not Evie’s mom, I’m here because I made you a promise six years ago.” Brianna knew it was stupid. She knew Aquaria loved her, she knew Evie loved her, she knew she meant more to them than a stupid promise made in the heat of the moment - and yet this part of her still screamed that she was unwanted, unworthy. Aquaria let of her hand, and pushed herself off the couch. She picked up a sleeping Evie and walked away down the hall of their small apartment. Thiswas it, Brianna thought, she’s going to agree with me and send me back to Harlem. She was surprised when Aquaria returned with a small gift bag, the lean blonde sitting back on the couch cross-legged, facing Brianna.

“You don’t make things easy, Brianna Heller,” Aquaria mused, untying the bag’s satin strings, “you can be frustrating and stubborn, and sometimes you make me cry. But you make me so happy. You make me smile, you make me laugh, and most of all you love our daughter with a force unmatched. I didn’t want to do this here, I didn’t want to do this now, but -”

“Yes,” Brianna sobbed loudly, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, “yes.”

“Can you not be frustrating for two seconds? Let me ask the question first, damn,” Aquaria laughed, throwing the bag across the living room aimlessly after pulling out the black ring box, “marry me?” Brianna couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than nod, pulling Aquaria forward by the hem of her tank top and pressing their lips together. Brianna sighed happily as she felt Aquaria’s forehead press against her own, looking down and watching Aquaria open the box, a simple platinum solitaire ring sitting inside. Brianna wouldn’t have cared if it was a two dollar ring pop, she had just agreed to spend the rest of her life with the woman she loved more than anything else in the world, the woman who stumbled into her life in the most obscure of ways.

*

Aquaria shivered when she felt the cool platinum of Brianna’s ring trace up and down her arm as Brianna held her that night. Skin against skin against cotton, nothing to be heard except soft breathing and the hum of traffic in the city below them.

“I know you’ve never felt it, but you’re irreplaceable.” Aquaria murmured, bringing Brianna’s hand to her lips and pressing soft kisses against her knuckles. Brianna hummed appreciatively, rolling Aquaria over so that they were facing each other.

“I know. I’m sorry I said I wasn’t.”

“I know sometimes you don’t think you’re Evie’s mother just because you didn’t know her before she was born, but to Evie it doesn’t make any difference. She doesn’t know that. You more than anyone knows the power of motherhood. You are to Evie as Bob is to you, you don’t need to have been there for all the nitty details. You pour so much love into her and she is a better person because of it. You’re her mama, no matter what. We love you and we certainly couldn’t just go on without you.” Aquaria was sniffling, wiping a few tears off the apples of her cheeks. Aquaria was never a good liar, she was too much of an open book - and Brianna loved her for all of the torn pages and spelling mistakes that composed her.

“Every day I try and think of the first time I felt like I belonged in your world,” Brianna mused, running her thumb across Aquaria’s cheek, “now I can stop thinking.”

*

Brianna married Aquaria on a warm spring day in New York City. She cried when their sweet baby girl lead the bridal party down the aisle, let out an audible sob as Aquaria floated towards the altar looking nothing short of ethereal, one mother holding each of her arms as the bridal march was played by a string quartet. Aquaria laughed when she saw the tears rolling down Brianna’s cheeks, kissed them away before they promised to hold each other until death parted them. Brianna stared proudly at the bands they adorned on their left hands, couldn’t help but grin into their first kiss as a married couple. They were visions in white, and bound by the platinum rings on their fingers, Brianna found the people she didn’t fear would leave her because she wasn’t good enough, the people who gave her a sense of purpose and a sense of home.

After so many years, Brianna met her soulmate - the woman who was her best friend, who, who made her laugh and cry, pushed her to be the best version of herself.

*

Aquaria would happily admit that she was one of the lucky ones. She constantly wondered how she was lucky enough to find Brianna, spent many hours wondering what her life would look like if she caught the Uber all the way to Manhattan, if she caught a different Uber - if she didn’t call an Uber at all and just gave birth in Brooklyn like she was supposed to. Would she have even met Brianna by this point in her life? She was so lucky to have been in the right place at the right time, was so lucky to have found someone like Brianna - kind, caring, passionate. She was lucky to meet someone who cared for her daughter just has much as she did - and between them they raised a child so full of love she was close to bursting.

Aquaria watched as Brianna raced Evie across the lush green grass of Central Park, both so determined to beat the other to their spot. She laughed as Brianna hoisted Evie over her shoulder and carried her across the grass, laying her down softly before tickling her rib cage and belly. Aquaria eventually caught up, chest heaving as cold evening air filled her lungs.

“Alright, Aqua?” Brianna asked, helping Evie unfold the picnic blanket before helping Aquaria to the ground, laying next to her afterwards. Aquaria hummed as she laid down, smiling as Evie wriggled her way between her moms, quickly pointing out ‘their’ stars. Aquaria still couldn’t settle her breathing, lungs on fire as cold air burnt her chest; but she felt herself relax when Evie, her sweet baby girl, held her hand as she continued to talk about the stars with her mama.

Hot tears rolled down Aquaria’s cheeks, she definitely was one of the lucky ones.

[littlewhitetie]

Linger

A fill for whump bingo that turned into a short fic; prompt courtesy of @butteredonions. 

B5. Making excuses to linger because they don’t want to be alone (Shiro, Keith)

You can read the collection on AO3! :)

“Give in,” she commands, and Shiro’s not strong enough to resist.

He tries to kill them all.

This time, he succeeds.

  Shiro wakes with a sharp gasp. He claps his trembling hand over his mouth and presses down hard, barely able to stifle a sob. Tears pool around his eyes, spilling sideways down his temples. With a quiet sniffle, he uses the back of his wrist to wipe the evidence from sight. He can’t let Keith or Krolia see him like this.

He pushes himself up to a seated position. It’s a struggle with just one, shaky arm—his body is still weak, unsteady, too heavy—but he manages. Once he’s upright, he takes in his surroundings, and discovers being seen by Keith or Krolia is a nonissue.

He’s no longer curled up on the floor of the Black Lion’s cockpit, bathed in its perpetual violet glow. Keith’s not at the controls, glancing over at him from the pilot’s seat; Krolia’s not crouched over him with food and water at the ready. There’s no wolf here, either—no lush fur brushing against his skin, no curious nose nudging at his cheek.

They’re not here. No one is. There’s no one and nothing around him. He’s in the dark, and he’s alone.

His stomach lurches; his heart plummets in free-fall. No, no, no, no. He can’t be back here, back in the astral plane, trapped here for the rest of time. Forever a captive, lost in absolute emptiness and total isolation. He can’t do this again. Not again. Not again. He can’t.

Tears fall fresh, and he chokes on a new sob. His head spins as he hyperventilates, caught in the throes of panic. He shrinks, drawing his knees in against his too-tight chest, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He stays like that until the faintest of sounds reaches his ears. Sound. That doesn’t belong here.

Over the pounding of his shipwreck heart, a high pitch, arrhythmic pace, and unique timbre weave together, forming a whisper of something familiar. Someone typing on a holo-keyboard.

The noise emanates from somewhere behind him. He cracks his eyes back open and gets to his feet, teetering precariously as his newly shifted centre of gravity sets him off balance. Steadying himself, he looks around further.

When he cranes his neck to look over his right shoulder, he finds a subtle sliver of warm, yellow light. It gives hints of edges to objects in the— bedroom.

He’s in a bedroom. He’s not there.

He stumbles forward until he reaches the wall, sweeping his hand over its smooth surface. Eventually, his clumsy fingers press down on a circular light switch, flooding the room with soft white light.

The L-shaped room is quaint, cabin-like, enclosed in glossy, orange-hued wood. Squat, compact furniture matches the walls, accented with bands of speckled viridian. Pale sheets cascade from the bed he must have fallen off of at some point, pooling into a mess on the floor.

There’s an en-suite bathroom at the other end of the room, a sink and mirror visible through the open door. He makes his way there, flicking on the lights, and walks straight past the mirror without a glance. He sinks down onto the ledge of the square-shaped tub and sits there for a small eternity as he waits, and waits, and waits for his heart to slow and his breaths to even out. Only then does he venture back to look at his reflection.

The shock of ghost-white hair strikes him first. Cognitively, he’d known about the change—he’d been told of it in words, and the flutter of pale lashes at the ceiling of his vision had confirmed it—but it throws him off all the same. He runs his fingers through his bangs. Vaguely, he wonders if it was light that had seeped into each strand, or darkness that had been leached out.

The hair is strange, different, but not devastating. The metal shoulder is another story. The metal shoulder, and what doesn’t extend beyond it.

He’s seen the thing, of course, but not from this angle, not from where he can see the guts of its wicked machinery at the site the rest of the arm had been sliced off. He’s not sure how much of the remaining metal covers flesh and how much has replaced it entirely, but either way, what’s left behind is bulky, ugly, unbalanced. The skin around the shoulder is ruined, too: angry pink streaks peek out from the gap between foreign metal and the edge of where the sleeve of his suit had burst. He averts his eyes, not ready to see any further.

He brings his gaze back up to his face. His complexion is far too pale to be healthy, though that’s hardly unexpected for a living corpse. His focal point shifts to his eyes, finding bags and bruise-purple crescents beneath his lower lashes. That’s no surprise, either; even though he spends most of his time unconscious, no amount of sleep seems to alleviate his intense fatigue. Allura assures him it will get better, so long as he listens to his body and gets sufficient rest, but it will take time.

Overall, his features add up to something near unrecognizable from the person who left for Kerberos. It’s not pretty, but it’s not like he had been expecting any different. What’s important now is that his eyes and nose aren’t too red, his skin isn’t blotchy, and his eyelids aren’t too swollen. It’s not immediately obvious that he was crying.

After he wets a soft washcloth and runs it over his face, rubbing away saline tears and cold sweat, he walks out of the bathroom and opens the other door.

He steps out into a narrow hallway, lined with evenly spaced doors. The door at the end of the hallway on his left bears a mat at its sill and a closet adjacent; it must lead outside. He heads right, instead—the electronic clicking is coming from that direction.

He chases the sound until he finds himself in a common area. Straight ahead is a small kitchen; to its left a dining space with sleek, ebony chairs tucked around a matching table. In front of that, closest to him, is a sitting area. Large, grey-blue couches form three sides of a square.

Unruly, dark hair with a familiar cowlick peeks over the back of the nearest couch, perched behind a holo-screen. The warmest relief floods Shiro’s entire being.

The typing pauses, and the screen disappears. Keith turns around to face him, kneeling on the seat of the couch and propping himself up with his forearms. “Shiro,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not bad,” Shiro says. Now that you’re here.

“Glad to hear it,” Keith says, with a small but genuine smile. He gestures around them. “We lucked out; finally found an inhabited planet and got put up here. The others are out talking Coalition stuff with the locals, but we only just arrived. You haven’t been asleep that long—it’s only been a varga or so since you last woke. You’ve got to still be pretty tired.”

There’s no point in trying to deny it; since his resurrection, Shiro hasn’t once been anything less than exhausted. Now that he’s come down from his panic, he’s completely drained. He gives a slight nod.

“You should go back to bed,” Keith says. “Get some more sleep.”

He’s tired, but no. He can’t go back to his room, not yet. He’s not ready to be alone again. He needs an excuse to stay.

“I… need some water.”

“There’s a sink in the kitchen,” Keith says, nodding in its direction. “Glasses are in the cupboard on the right, second shelf from the top.”

After Shiro thanks him, Keith turns around and pulls his screen back up.

Shiro can’t see Keith from the kitchen, so he finds the cupboard and fills one of the crystalline glasses with tap water as quickly as he can. He brings it over to the dining table. Once he can see Keith again, he lets out the breath he’d subconsciously been holding. He takes the seat positioned at a vantage point where Keith is directly in his line of vision.

Keith is immersed in whatever he’s doing; he has that little crease in his brow he gets when he’s deep in concentration. He’s clearly busy, probably shouldn’t be interrupted, but Shiro’s self-control is lacking at the moment. He doesn’t want their usual companionable silence. Right now, he just wants to hear Keith’s voice.

“What are you working on?”

Keith pauses and looks up. “Report for Kolivan.”

Shiro tilts his head. “Krolia didn’t take care of that while we were travelling?” Krolia hadn’t had much else to do, and she seems like a doer. The last he saw, she was wearing the same restless look in her eyes Keith gets when he sits too still, not actively working toward something.

“She finished most of it,” Keith says. “I just have to fill in… a few details.” Things Krolia hadn’t been witness to. Like Haggar’s clone project. Like when Shiro had tried in earnest to kill Keith, and damn near succeeded.

It hadn’t been Shiro, but at the same time, it had. It was with this body, and he remembers every moment of it in nauseating detail. The awful lies he spat out, trying to break Keith in more than just flesh and bone. The way when, blade against blade, he’d taken advantage of gravity and pressed down with all his weight; the way Keith had pushed back with astonishing strength, but it hadn’t quite been enough. The hiss and sickening smell as Shiro’s pink plasma blade seared the skin of Keith’s cheek, marring it forever. The desperate look in Keith’s eyes; the crack in his voice as he pleaded with Shiro to stop.

He has to fight the urge to crumple and fold in on himself, the urge to throw up. He doesn’t want to think about any longer, but still, he asks, “Can I help with the report?” He’s desperate. Please. Anything to stay here with you.

“I got it covered,” Keith says. “Don’t worry about it. Just go back to bed. You need to rest.”

“I…” Shiro scrounges for an excuse not to go back. “Is there anything to eat?”

“Hunk left a few things in the pantry. Your appetite’s back?”

No. “Yeah.” And then he adds, “A little,” so Keith’s not expecting too much from him.

Keith brightens, the corners of his lips pulling up before he turns back to his screen.

Shiro drags out his sips of water for as long as possible before heading back to the kitchen. He opens the pantry doors, finding an assortment of containers in varying shapes and sizes. He sifts through the options, assessing how difficult it would be to open each one.

He picks out a tall, smooth jar, tightly sealed without any ridges in its sides or lid. The actual contents of the opaque container are a mystery, but the important thing is he won’t be able to get it open. He takes it back to his seat at the table and gives it a token effort.

Keith lets him try for a little while. Keith is always ready to help, but he tries to give Shiro some semblance of independence where he can. Like letting him get his own food and water; like letting him sleep in his own room. It’s something Shiro would normally appreciate, but at the moment, he’s embarrassingly needy. All he wants right now is to be coddled, smothered, never left alone.

When it’s clear Shiro’s not going to get it open, Keith pushes away from his screen and comes over to the table. Shiro passes him the jar, casually angling his hand so it brushes against Keith’s. He savours the fleeting moment of skin against skin: after a year of total isolation, trapped without a body, he’s famished for touch.

Keith places the jar on the table in front of him, and Shiro quietly laments the loss of an opportunity for their fingers to brush again. Part of Shiro wants to ask Keith to get him a utensil to eat it with, just for another chance at a touch, but a glance inside the jar reveals a liquid with a smoothie-like consistency; no utensils are needed. He thanks Keith and watches wistfully as he returns to the couch.

He takes a sip of the fuchsia substance, and maybe his appetite isn’t as lacking as he’d thought. It’s good. Really good. A bright burst of something sweet and tangy blooms over his taste buds, leaving a subtle after-note of what could pass as elderflower. He can’t remember when he last ate something he really enjoyed. For the first time in a long time, he has to force himself to drink it slowly.

As he takes deliberately small, infrequent sips, he watches Keith work. Shiro’s eyes rove over the features that are new to him—the broader shoulders, the subtle elongation of his heart-shaped face, and, of course, the angry burn striping his right cheek. He also takes note of constants that have been there from the start: the slight upturn of the tip of his nose, the fanning out of his dark lashes, the deep indigo of his irises, the stubborn set to his jaw.

Mostly, though, Shiro just takes in his warm presence, appreciating that he’s here. He’s missed him so, so much.

“You feeling okay?” Keith asks, when Shiro’s been staring for too long.

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

“Seriously, Shiro,” Keith says. “Finish that and go back to bed before you fall asleep at the table.”

Not yet. “I… need more water.”

Keith frowns. “More?”

Shiro shrugs. He immediately regrets the gesture—the stiffness and weight of his right shoulder is too new, too raw.

“Okay. I can get it if you want.”

“Please,” Shiro says, quietly.

Keith gets up from the couch and brings Shiro’s glass to the kitchen. When he returns, he sets it down in front of Shiro from across the table, yet again crushing Shiro’s guilty desire to steal another touch.

Shiro’s eyes follow Keith back to the couch as he returns to his report. Shiro continues to drink as slowly as possible, dread rising with every inch of his glass drained. He doesn’t want to go back.

Eventually, though, he runs out smoothie and he runs out of water. He takes as long as he can with the dishes, but then he’s out of excuses to stay. Dragging his feet, he makes his way out of the kitchen, back toward the hallway.

He stops at the couches, pausing for a beat. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” he asks, in a last-ditch effort.

“Positive,” Keith says.

It’s not like Shiro wasn’t expecting it, but disappointment wells up all the same. “…Okay,” he whispers. Embarrassingly, pathetically, his eyes start to sting.

He turns to leave, but Keith says, “Shiro, wait.”

Shiro slowly pivots to face him, keeping his focus on the crests of Keith’s cheekbones instead of meeting his gaze straight on.

Keith dispels his screen and keyboard. “Come here.”

Shiro swallows and does as he’s told. Keith pats the plush seat cushion on his right, imploring Shiro to sit down. When he does, Keith scoots in closer.

Keith reaches for him and tips his face up, waiting until Shiro looks him directly in the eyes before he speaks. Voice soft, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s… nothing,” Shiro says.

“Don’t give me that.”

“I—I just…” Shiro digs his nails into his palm, but it doesn’t stop tears from building at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey,” Keith murmurs. He slides his arms around Shiro, pulling him in against him. Shiro’s heart thuds, loud and heavy, pulsing against his ribcage. He’s alive. Solid. Real.

Shiro brings his cheek to rest against Keith’s shoulder and lets out a shuddering breath. In the barest of whispers, he admits, “I don’t want to be alone again.”

Keith stiffens, before squeezing tighter. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice tight with remorse. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Shiro chokes on an almost-laugh. “Keith, it’s not your job to read my mind and cater to my every whim.”

“I wish I could,” Keith says. “But I can’t always. So tell me when you need something. Please.”

“This isn’t—I don’t need—“

“I’m not talking about survival, life or death stuff,” Keith says. They both know he already has that covered. “I mean I want you to tell me when there’s something—anything—I can do to make you feel better. It doesn’t matter how big, or small.”

Shiro shakes his head, cheek rubbing against Keith’s sharp clavicle. “You don’t have to—“

“I want to, okay?” Keith says, “I want to do whatever I can to help, and I’m not just being selfless. Anything that helps you will make me feel better, too. Because there’s nothing in this universe more important to me than you.”

Shiro collapses into him. The hot tears in his eyes slip loose, dripping onto Keith’s shoulder—unbidden, but not as unwelcome as before.

Three words come back to him like a beacon, cutting through the swathes of dark memories under Haggar’s influence. “What you said to me,” Shiro says, “When we… when I almost… when you got that scar. You— you really meant it, didn’t you.”

Keith pulls back so Shiro can see his smile, honest and kind. “You know I always mean what I say.”

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers. “You do.”

“I meant what I said about you needing sleep, too,” Keith says. He rubs the tear tracks from Shiro’s face with his thumb, then guides him to lie down, bringing Shiro’s head to rest in his lap. “Get some rest, alright?”

With a soft sigh, Shiro lets his heavy eyelids fall closed. He’s calmed by the sound of fingers tapping against keys, interrupted occasionally by a gentle touch. A press to his wrist, a stroke of his cheek, a brush of fingers through his hair. He falls asleep to sweet, subtle reminders that he’s not alone, not anymore.

[why-am-i-adulting-blog]

Bullying and school shootings honestly do go hand in hand.

Hi. I was a potential school shooter. I had disgusting rumors spread about me, I got into constant fights, I had ONE real friend. Everyone else made me feel like I was a burden. I was blamed for stolen items in my circle of friends. They treated me like I was just a stand in, a thing to toy with. I was not important. I was not impressive. I was shrugged off. The day I was diagnosed with depression, I was called a liar. My dad beat the shit out of me one night and the next day at school, I didn’t want to be touched. One “friend” was going to take me to her house and have me cool down. Dad was waiting for me at her house. She called me a liar for meeting my dad once, for a few minutes. Saying he didn’t abuse me.

I was teased in the whole, “X has a crush on you” and my emotions were toyed with in ways the shouldn’t have been toyed with. I was dumped by my first boyfriend because I didn’t kiss him. I was hated by teachers for no real, valid or good reasons.

While my bullying wasn’t as bad as most kids get it, I had a toxic home life. I was dealing with finding the right medications for my mental illness. I was being diagnosed as one thing and then having it switched to another thing. I was a mess.

I admit, here and now, I would have murdered my fellow classmates. I would have gone to my school carrying as many arsenal weapons as I could carry. I would have killed anyone I could have.

I would have killed myself. It was a daily thought of who I wanted to kill. It was a daily thought of who I wanted to hurt and watch die a slow and painful death. And yes. I did have two people at the top of my list.

I had an idea of who I wanted dead, and if at all possible, I would have done it.

The whole needing stricter gun laws doesn’t necessarily mean we want to take away guns all together, but we want to try to make it harder for would-be school shooters (like me) to get their hands on those weapons. The children speaking out against gun violence aren’t trying to disrupt the NRA and their weird obsession with guns. They just want to stop being the victims of mass shootings.

But to all the youths who may see this, stop bullying each other. You are the issue, you are the reason an active shooter could be your class mate. The people who are troubled don’t need your fake pity or you to come up to them just because they’re “weird” or an “outcast”. You don’t even have to get to know them. But if you decide you’re going to talk to them, you better make damn sure you’re doing it with sincerity and not because you’re afraid they’ll come to your school next and kill you. False kindness is just as bad as bullying. It instills a false hope. It crushes a person much worse than any bullying could.

And if that person doesn’t come to school to kill you for being a shit human being, you’d be responsible for pushing them to the point of suicide. Where it’s too late to be a good person to them.

I dropped out my senior year of high school. My three options were as followed: find a way to get the weapons needed to kill as many as I could and myself, kill myself or drop out. I knew I was a ticking time bomb. However, because I was raised to be a compassionate person, regardless of the toxicity of my home life, I knew that whatever I chose.. there’d be consequences. Stain my name forever and be hated in not only life but in death too, leaving my family to be chastised for my sins. Leaving this earth of my own accord to have my family suffer an even worse fate than death because I couldn’t handle the pain of being around fake friends and peers who wanted nothing more than to see me drown, followed by them and their false remorse for my death. Or drop out and deal with whatever abuse I’d face at home.

My school was Redwood Valley middle/high school. In Redwood Falls, MN. The years I attended this school were 2007-2010. I should have graduated in 2011. This may or may not be a huge hint of who I am. But I don’t care. If anyone from that school who attended those years sees this. You were at risk. I would have killed you all because your small town mindset was more important than getting to know an outsider.

I am better now. I have a good life. I overcame my demons and left that town behind. I am happy (sort of, refer to parentheses at the end of this post). I am loved and I can say that things do get better. If you are suffering from bullying and a toxic life at home, all I can say is grit your teeth as best as you can. Seek professional help (they are, by law, sworn to keep your secrets unless you are telling them you’re a danger to yourself or others). Seek a new hobby. Find better friends, EVEN IF THEY’RE ONLINE. Your life is so important. You’re important. And as much as you hate those who are making your life hell right now, they’re important to other people. Don’t take their lives and don’t take yours. Seek help. Don’t confide in friends. Even your closest and most trusted friend cannot understand everything you go through and they are not a professional. Yes, you may risk a 72 hour hold, but those holds are there to help you. They fucking suck, but I can tell you now, they isolate you from the world for three days. Three days to clear your head. Three days to establish a relationship with a psychiatrist. Three days to get medications to help regulate any chemical imbalance. Three days to find out the name of that demon ligering over your shoulder.

Seek help before you hurt someone else or yourself.

To those who spread rumors, laugh at people behind their backs, talk about people behind their backs, backstab their friends, straight up bully or beat on others. I don’t know what is going on in your life. I don’t know what is going on in your head. But you need to choose what you say and what you do carefully. Bullying does not build character. It destroys people. And it pushes them to dark places that no one should go. Anyone. ANYONE. Can turn to suicide. ANYONE can easily take a life.

If you want to end this circle of violence, change who you are. Stand with those who are tired of being the punching bag. Defend people when you get the chance. Yes. You will lose friends. But you’ll also gain a friend who you never expected would be a good person in your life. Those weird kids, the outcasts, the anime freaks, the goths, skaters, Emos or theatre kids can easily be the best friend you cherish in the long run. A lot of them are loyal till the very end and are very trustworthy. But you won’t know that until you try to get to know them. This goes for the nerds and the geeks, the chess club kids, the band kids, etc. Give them a chance. Judge them based on who they really are, but don’t destroy them. Judge them on if you really want them in your life. Because they also will be judging you. And if you’re already a tormentor to them right now, you have a lot to redeem yourself for.

(My dad didn’t understand he was an abusive person, but I did make him realize years later and we made up. He wasn’t a bad person just because he did bad things. He was sorry and I know he loved me. I did deserve the beating in question as I made a stupid decision that would have killed me. I can understand why he reacted the way he did and the emotions he was feeling. Does that make it right? No. But I have forgiven him. And I’d appreciate it if nobody talks ill of him as he has just recently passed away. Thank you).

(Also, I know I rambled on in this post, but it still stands. We are the reason kids are dying. From adults to kids who go to school with these “at risk” students. It is your job to fix the wrongs done to these kids, and in the end, it is still up to them on if they let you into their life. Do not force it. But you can start by standing up to your friends and family when these kids come up in conversation. You have the power to change the outcome of stories you aren’t even aware you’re playing a part in. Fix your mistakes before it is too late).

I am not posting this for sympathy or pity. I am posting it in hopes you realize how easy it is for that train of thought to even begin. I wasn’t a good person for deciding to drop out. I wanted to hurt people because they hurt me. But I knew what I wanted and what I was thinking was dangerous and wrong. Not everyone will realize this. Not everyone will seek help. Not everyone will drop out to save your ass. Edit: (12/09/18) I’m not a bad person - I know this post will not be seen in any good way. This post was to prove that bullying is what can cause a person to want to end another person’s life. I sought help and am better, I do not think the way I did when I was fucking fifteen. Call me a bad person all you want, but I am not afraid to be honest about how I wanted to die and take others with me. If my story proves anything, it proves that I, unlike other school shooters, was able to see how WRONG my thoughts were. Invasive thoughts does not equate a bad person. It equates mental illness. 

[seenashwrite]

Build Me Up, Buttercup - Part Two: An Angel, A Demon, And A Vampire Walk Into A Garage.

Status: Part 2 of ___  Word Count: 3.5K  Category: Multi-Part; Alternative Universe:Fantasy [maaaybe] ; Pseudo cross-over [“The Princess Bride”]; Adventure; Humor; Parody; Friendship; Family; see Grandpa’s list in Part One as well [wink]   Rating: Teen & Up  Character(s): Dean, Sam, Female O.C., Grandpa & Grandson, various SPN past & present Pairing(s): Sorry, kiddos - you’ll have to wait & see Warnings: None Author’s Note(s): Shifts between the “real world” and the "book” are in larger text; see more post-story Overall Summary: See Part One Part Two Summary: Dean struggles with his new reality - and a familiar trio arrives on the scene to shake it up. 

           * ~ * Build Me Up, Buttercup : Master Post * ~ *

.

Flipping to the next page, the old man went on.

.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. "What if something happens to her? I'm afraid we'll never see her again!"

"Offffff course you are," Dean replied with a sly grin, having not missed the way his brother had been stealing glances and blushing around their - he had to admit, quite intelligent and pretty - former apprentice for months.

"She has always said she would drop everything for us if we needed her, that she'd be there for us, and you had to go and---"

"How can you be so sure she’d come through for us? She hated my guts, Sam. Absolute pure hate, right down to the knee in my junk, you think that happens every day!?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "To you?! I haven't got a clue how many times that must've happened to you!"

As fate would have it, Sam was right - not the crotch thing, the first thing. Their one-time hunter-in-training never made it to her destination. It seemed that during her travels, she decided to investigate a case she'd gotten wind of and ended up on a ferry that was attacked by vampirates, who never leave captives alive. 

And so when the Winchesters got word that she'd been murdered---

.

"Murdered by vampirates is good!" exclaimed the kid.

.

---a frustrated Sam fought with his brother before quickly packing up only what he needed, and leaving the bunker, driving through the night, neither eating nor sleeping - not even reading any of The Lore - for days.

Dean ate an entire large pizza with extra mushrooms and their accompanying bread sticks, gave shots of coconut rum a try, ate three bags of Doritos, vomited down the hallway, then indulged in a ten-hour porn marathon, all interspersed with the occasional forkful of apple pie straight out of the tin, and a case and a half of beer.

The first day.

"I will never rum again," Dean muttered to himself, just before letting loose one final belch and passing out.

More than a few years came and went, during which something very strange and inexplicable was happening to their world - and for the Winchesters, this was saying quite a lot.

Sam had not spoken with Dean since the night he'd left, though he kept tabs on not only his brother but the ever-evolving drama within and amongst the various supernatural factions.

Without the brothers' influence on otherworldly doings, politics began playing more of a role than they had in the past. Contracts and treaties in place for years, possibly centuries even, were regularly challenged. Deals were made under tables. Established powers were pushed out - or murdered - to make way for new sovereigns. And one self-appointed monarch in particular had recently come out on top.

In the front yard of a newly-constructed mansion (near castle, truth be told) that was quite out-of-place in a modest province of the country called Florin, people were packed nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. They were waiting to hear an announcement from their ruler Rowena, the once self-proclaimed Queen Regent of Hell, current self-proclaimed monarch of Florin, and it was a very special announcement, indeed - she was about to reveal her husband-to-be.

Trumpets blared and the crowd hushed as Rowena stepped out onto the large balcony several floors above the front door of her earthly pseudo-castle, flanked by members of her coven.

"My perky peasants! In just one month, it will be the tenth anniversary of what I know has been the happiest times of your putrid existence - the day I started my reign. And at sundown on that day, I shall wed a wee lad who was once a commoner, like yourselves. But I suspect you won't find him so common now, will you? Would you like to meet him?"

The crowd roared - many due to the threats being whispered to them by Rowena's minions who were sprinkled throughout - but most were excited for the reveal because it put them that much closer to the buffet and ‘80s cover band awaiting them in the backyard. Plus, word was the pool had a slide.

"People! I present to you my little Buttercup, the Crown Prince of Florin - Dean!"

Dean gradually stepped into the crowd, walking slowly on a red carpet that stretched from the gazebo in the side yard, then across the circular drive, through at least twenty flower-laden archways, ultimately finding himself next to the gaudy, jewel-accented fountain that featured two sculpted cherubs pissing on each other instead of down into the basin.

.

.

The sneer on his face was locked-in tight, as was the shiny gold crown atop his head. Like Rowena, her coven, her bodyguards, her minions - and all the townspeople, as required by the new laws - he was dressed in clothing that was close to, but not quite hitting the mark of, something one might see on people living around the year 1700. The colors seemed too bold, the gold accoutrements too shiny, and his shoes all seemed to have heels.

Dean looked at the crowd, actually a little envious - at least they didn't have to wear brocade tunics that felt more like dresses, and stupid tights that cramped his junk, and those damned heels. Even the bum who was perpetually wandering about the town square - or, to Rowena's great disdain, lounging in front of her mansion - got to wear boots. On the other hand, they were worse off than he was in a lot of ways. Rowena had sent the entire continent back into a dark age. Not like the Dark Ages, but close enough - the people were both literally and figuratively in the dark.

After only a little less than a decade's worth of her spell-casting, it seemed like everyone, excepting those heading into this world-upending disaster with prior knowledge of the supernatural, had forgotten where they were and what time period they lived in. They simply accepted any modernity from Rowena and her crew as par for the course, just a royal's life versus a peasant's. Though her coven had provided a few changes of clothing for each person, handed out horses and cows like crazy, and worked their mojo to get crops to spring up right away, she'd cut off all utilities, drained every service station of gas, even shut down land lines, isolating everyone completely.

And Dean had absolutely no idea why, or what he could do about it, especially without his friends. Without Sam. Hell, he'd have even taken help from what's-her-face, though her getting ganked by vampirates still made him a bit giddy to imagine.

But nevertheless, his emptiness consumed him. Although the new laws of the enchanted land gave Rowena the right to choose her groom, and despite what he suspected was an abundance of attempted spell-casting on him specifically by the coven, he did not love her.

Dean gagged when he thought about the upcoming wedding night. He'd been drinking so much over the years - that is, the ones since Sam left, and the one during which he’d been stuck in Florin - he couldn't even get fully drunk anymore, so how he'd manage to get through it was beyond him. Didn't matter that Rowena reassured him that it'd be the best night of his life due to her centuries of experience; after that tidbit, he actually had thrown up.

He would cheer himself by sneaking away at night - minus the tights - and would stay in the shadows of houses for a few miles til he could cut across the old mini-mall parking lot that was now occupied by grazing sheep, in order to reach his favorite place. Dean always took a deep breath once he'd entered, inhaling the comforting smell of motor oil and metal. Taking apart cars - or just pieces of them - and putting them together again was his only remaining joy.

And he was so focused on his task at hand, laying on his back, rolled underneath his latest project, that it didn't register with him initially how unusual it was to hear another person's voice that late at night, much less inside the abandoned garage.

"A word, sir? We're male models looking to pick up a little work, you happen to know of any runways around here?"

"Nope, nothing for miles."

Then Dean frowned as he felt himself being yanked out from under the car, and thought he got a glimpse of someone familiar before everything went black.

Crowley stood to the side, inspecting the knuckles of the fist he'd just used, while Gabriel helped lift the unconscious Dean, keeping him propped upright as Benny squatted a bit, then hoisted the passed-out prince up and over his shoulder.

"You know, it really annoys me when you do that," Gabriel said to Crowley. "I had a great zinger all ready to go: ‘Then there will be no one to hear you scream' - I mean, come ON."

"What's that you're doing, there?" asked Benny, watching as Crowley meandered around the garage, splashing little drops of something from a small bottle on the floor.

"I'm leaving a clue behind for Mother's hounds. A touch of Eau de Moose."

Benny and Gabriel shared a confused glance - Crowley saw their expressions when he turned back to them, then sighed before he explained.

"Not an ounce of forethought between you. That was watered-down fancy shampoo, one that's not readily available around these parts now-a-days, but via my contacts, I happen to know entire cases are whipped up by Rowena's little band of bitches and sent as peace offerings to the only thing standing between her and access to the last active hellmouth on the continent."

Benny and Gabriel stared at him blankly.

"The kingdom just a hop-skip away? Guilder? Used to be Texas, Louisiana, New Mexico, actual Mexico, whatnot? Where we're headed shortly? Across that abyss of a bay that popped up, formerly known as Oklahoma?"

No response.

"Where the big little brother of our princess here---" Crowley gave Dean's ass a sharp WHAP that echoed through the room "---has set himself up on the throne? You lot are too dumb to breathe."

Crowley made his way out of the garage then, shaking his head.

"Uh, vampire," Gabriel pointed out, jabbing a thumb in Benny's direction, then swinging it around to himself. "Angel. We don't exactly need to have a lot of breathing happening."

They followed after Crowley, keeping behind buildings and speaking quietly, guided by a soft glow Gabriel let out of his eyes - not even worth a 100 watt bulb, as the coven's double-downed stranglehold on the energy in and around Florin extended to demons and angels and any other creatures trapped in the their bubble.

"So what, boss, idea is your mama will think Sam came and got Dean?" asked Benny.

Crowley nodded. "And when Dean's body is found on Guilder land---"

"Whoa!" Benny exclaimed, stopping immediately.  "You never said anything about killin' anybody."

Crowley whirled around to face him, angry.

"I hired you to help me start a war. It's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition."

"I just don't think it's right... killing Dean. Don't ever seem to work, anyhow."

"Am I going mad, or did the word think escape your lips?! You were not hired for your brains, you sharp-toothed bucket of gumbo!"

"I agree with Benny," said Gabriel, crossing his arms.

"Oh, warped-wings has spoken! What happens to Dean is not your concern. I’ll kill him!  And remember this, never forget this - when I found you, you were so depleted of grace, you couldn't even conjure strippers and candy!"

Crowley turned back to Benny.

"Then you! Pale, munching on mangy, anemic animals, hopeless! Do you want me to send you to where you were, hiding in caves, in Purgatory?!"

They continued on to the docks in silence, all climbing into the modest wooden boat that was powered only by a combination of wind in the sails and - mostly - Benny's rowing. After they settled the unconscious Dean, Gabriel untied the line. Benny sat near the middle, picked up the oars and began to row, while Gabriel lit a small lantern near the bow. 

And Crowley pulled a flask from his jacket, leaned back, closed his eyes as he began sipping.

Benny's grip on the oars was tight and his jaw was clenched and twitching. Lack of full strength and diminished powers aside, Benny was a big dude. And while Gabriel still had enough juice to at least get himself out of the vampire's way should he opt to let the fists fly, he was pretty sure Crowley would get quite the beat-down if the muscle of their trio got angry enough. 

He didn't want to kill Dean, either - would’ve been happier if it was Crowley. Still, like it or not, they were going to need Crowley and his contacts to get hold of Sam. Then it was left to hope, that Sam hadn’t changed, that he would still go to bat for Dean, and if not Dean, then for the greater good in general - not terribly unlike the need for Benny to cool off and realize Crowley couldn’t be dealt with quite yet. They needed all the allies they could get, even the questionable ones.

And so it was, Gabriel decided to do what we was best at: making a joke of a serious situation.

"Yo-ho-ho, matey," he said to Benny with a cautious grin. "So... any limericks you, ah... know know know?"

Benny's rowing slowed just long enough for him to shoot Gabriel a look that was somewhere between puzzled and annoyed, then got back on rhythm.

"Whoo, tough crowd," Gabriel said under his breath.

A few moments of silence passed, and Gabriel scooted a little closer, spoke a little lower.

"That Crowley, man, he sure can... bitch."

Silence for another few moments, but then:

"I bet it's 'cause his mama's a witch."

Gabriel stifled his laughter, but a glance over his shoulder told him Crowley had caught the retort due to the exaggerated roll of his eyes, followed by a large pull off the flask.

"Aw, he's just a little sack of... charm," Gabriel said.

"Well I’m gonna help him buy the farm," Benny shot back immediately.

Now Gabriel snickered loudly, and Crowley spit most of his mouthful out, spraying it over the side of the boat but also sending a healthy amount down his chin and onto his jacket.

"Enough!" he growled at them.

"Hey Benny, should we choke him dead?"

"’Fore we do, I best get fed."

Crowley cursed under his breath and went to drink more from his flask, only to find it empty. He chucked it into the water, then whipped his head around to face his companions - the flash of red in his eyes silenced them effectively. For several hours, the only sound was the swish of the paddles and the occasional gust of wind hitting the sail.

The sky had been overcast but now handfuls of clouds dissipated. The moon and stars were bright enough that Gabriel extinguished the lantern. There were little waves to speak of, and they could now see the smog-topped crag looming in the distance, the ones rumored to make climbers insane - and they’d have to scale it, their captive in tow, in order to get to the Guilder border.

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn," Crowley commented, then frowned at Gabriel. "Why are you doing that?"

He was referring both to Gabriel’s present location and the focused expression on his normally affable face - the archangel was still near the bow, but was facing backwards, looking behind them.

"Making sure nobody's following us," he replied slowly.

"That would be inconceivable," Crowley declared.

"Despite what you think, you'll get caught - and when you are, hoo-boy, is Rowena gonna light into your sorry asses."

They all looked to the sound of Dean's voice.

"Hey, you're up!" Benny exclaimed, a genuine smile on his face.

Dean's jaw dropped. "Benny?"

"Yeah, brother. Good to see ya."

"Wish I could say the same - what the hell, man?!"

"You know, of all the asses on this boat, your highness, the one you should be worrying about is your own," Crowley said to Dean, with nothing but contempt - and perhaps a touch of jealousy - in his voice. He received an enthusiastic bird in response.

Gabriel sighed, then turned back to his scouting.

"Stop doing that! We can all relax! It's almost over," Crowley demanded.

"You're sure nooobody's following us?" Gabriel responded without turning, still studying the waters behind them with concern in his eyes.

"As I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable! No one in Guilder knows what we've done, and no one in Florin could have gotten here so fast." Crowley paused, his eyes narrowing. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?

Gabriel shrugged. "Oh, I dunno, I just happened to look behind us and something's there?"

"What?!"

Crowley scooted away from Dean and closer to Gabriel. He was pulling at his collar in a rare show of nerves, but then cleared his throat, adjusted his tone and posture back to one of nonchalance.

"Probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night."

"Oh, totally - through the witch's eel-infested waters," Benny tacked on sarcastically, pausing his rowing to take a look as well.

"Yep, like you do," added Gabriel.

But the ne'er-do-well trio jumped in sync at the sound of a splash, turning around just in time to see Dean emerge from his dive, paddling furiously away from them.

Crowley shoved Gabriel's shoulder. "Go in! Go after him!"

Gabriel gave him a look. "I don't swim! I snap fingers, badda-bing, badda-boom, I'm there."

They both looked to Benny.

"What?" he asked.

"Go!" they answered.

"I only dawg-paddle," he replied, moving his arms in said stroke’s motions for emphasis.

The demon and the angel raised their eyebrows in near-unison.

"You were a sailor," Gabriel said slowly.

Benny let out a half-chuckle. "Yeah, the boys always gave me hell for that. Funny, huh?"

"Aarrrgggh!" Crowley yelled, and lunged at Benny, rocking the boat briefly.

"For cryin’ out.... just..... here, come on, start getting to the left," Gabriel said, pushing Crowley aside, taking one of the oars from Benny.

And then they all froze - including Dean, who stopped moving forward and started treading water - as a horrid screeching sound filled the air.

Crowley began to laugh, saying,"You know what that sound is, you wet little squirrel? Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait - they always grow louder when they're about to feed on flesh!"

Dean's eyes grew wide and he was startled as he felt something large brush past him, causing more than a few extra ripples in the water.

"If you swim back now I promise we'll figure something out, Dean - and I doubt you'll get such a deal from your new scaly friends."

But Dean didn't have time to reply because one of those aforementioned scaly friends had circled back around, hovering just below the water about ten feet out, seemingly prepping to head right at his face.

"H-hey there, buddy?" Dean tried, tacking on a shaky grin, though his charm was wasted.

Suddenly it began its charge, obtaining such speed Dean knew there was no chance he could swim away in time, and right when it was moments away, unhinging its jaw and letting out one final victory screech----

.

"Dean does not get eaten by the eels at this time."

The kid blinked, startled out of his concentration. "What?"

"The eel doesn't get him - I'm explaining it to you, because you looked nervous," his grandfather said, glancing down.

The kid followed suit, noticing for the first time that he'd been wadding up his bedding in his hands as he'd listened to the story.

"I... I wasn't... wasn't nervous," he replied, loosening his grip. "Well,  maybe I was a little bit concerned but that's not the same thing."

"We can stop now, if you---"

"No, you could read a little bit more, I mean, if you want to," the kid jumped in immediately.

With a nod of agreement, and an adjustment of glasses, the old man went back to the page.

"'You know what that sound is, you wet little squirrel? Those are the shrieking eels! If you---'"

"Past that, Grandpa. You read it already," the kid interrupted.

"Oh... oh my goodness, I did. I'm sorry. Beg your pardon. Alright, alright, lets see... uh... he was in the water, the eel was going after him, he was frightened, the eel started to charge him and then..."

.

----Benny leaned over and knocked out the eel with one punch while Crowley and Gabriel hauled Dean onto the boat.

Crowley was already beginning to tie a shivering Dean's hands with rope, Gabriel holding him in a semi-choke hold, when all three turned towards the stern due to a loud, sucking, toilet-plunger-on-a-mission type of sound.

Benny looked up and over the eel, to which he was currently giving a deep-fanging, mumbling, "What?"

They continued staring.

"What?!" he demanded, greenish-blue blood sneaking out the corners of his mouth. 

"Let's give the little fella a burial at sea, huh?" Gabriel suggested gently, and though Benny seemed disappointed, he let his late dinner - or early breakfast, depending on how you looked at it - slip back into the water.

But now that Benny was back to rowing and Dean was tied up to Crowley's satisfaction, Gabriel released him and stood, resuming his survey of what was now clearly another boat, similar in size to theirs, and not terribly far behind.

"I think he's getting closer," Gabriel muttered.

"He's no concern of ours! Sail on!" Crowley snapped. Then he turned narrowed eyes back to Dean. "I suppose you think you're still brave, don't you?"

Dean was gazing absently over Crowley's shoulder, at the cliffs which were just beginning to glow thanks to the barely-there sunrise, when he quietly responded.

"Only compared to some."

See Nash Write EVEN MORE! 

*~* Main Master List *~* Mobile Master List *~*

Wanna be tagged? Need to be removed? Check this out first to see which of my three tag lists you’d like to be part of / removed from - then hit me up! 

Did I just hear you say you’d like a preview of what’s to come???

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

"Is that a rapier?" Gabriel asked, astonished, turning from the edge of the cliff to look at the others. "Have either of you got a sword, because I sure as hell went and left mine back in the pocket of my other pair of homemade britches, in my other life, pre-Rowpocalypse, oh no WAIT, no it’s not, because I haven't ever NEEDED one!"

"I thought you were a soldier," Benny said, in a snotty tone not unlike the one used on him when being asked how it was a sailor couldn’t swim. 

"We weren’t fencing,” Gabriel replied, testy, though he shrugged, adding, “Besides. I blew the horn."

"You were the boogie-woogie bugle boy?!"

Barely sputtering the sentence out, Benny then fell into gales of laughter, bending at the waist to grab his knees, gasping.

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

"I don't mean to pry, but - you don't by any chance happen to have any red lipstick?"

The masked woman paused in her boot-shaking task and stared for a beat or two. "Red's not your color," she informed him.

Gabriel chuckled, glanced down, but when he looked back up, she was surprised to see slightly glassy eyes.  

So she pulled a tube from her bra, because where the hell else was she supposed to stash it in that getup? And further, it wasn't like she was gonna leave it on the boat to melt. She liked the pop of color against the monochrome clothing, not to mention the vitamin E and SPF. After all, those of the vamp persuasion needed to be mindful of peeling or chapped lips. It was just common courtesy, don't judge her.

She uncapped it, rolled up a bit, and tilted it towards him. 

He noted the deep neutral hue and gave a satisfied nod, saying, "Thanks."

She nodded in return, then began putting her boots back on as he - without being asked - launched into his backstory.

"My sex life was ruined by a red-lipsticked woman..."

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

"Abs, you know how much I love watching you work, but I've got the  anniversary celebration to plan, my wedding to arrange, my husband to murder and Guilder to frame for it - I'm just swamped!"

"Oh, Ro," Abaddon said sympathetically, walking back over and giving Rowena a quick, no-bodily-contact, pseudo-hug. "Listen to a former queen, alright?"

"Do not tell me to get some rest," Rowena said flatly.

"No, I'm going to tell you to get a pedicure. If you haven't got your open-toe Manolos, then you haven't got anything."

And with a blood-red, half-hearted smile - plus two quick air kisses - Abaddon turned away and headed down to the pit, though she did pause, glanced over her shoulder, gave Rowena one last piece of advice.

“Might wanna run by the salon, too - your roots are showing.” 

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

"I don't envy the headache you'll have when you wake up - but in the meantime, sleep well, Benny-boy. And dream of Cajun women."

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

"There's a shortage of perky nipples in this world - so hell, what’s two more?"

Dean jumped, dropped the angel blade, and wheeled around, eyes widening when he realized who was lying on his bed.

“YOU?!?” he bellowed.

“What’s up, Buttercup.”

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

"Okay, you know-it-all: what about the A.S.S.E.S.?" Dean demanded.

"Angels Sulking Silently, Especially in Swamps?” she asked, then shrugged. “Eh. I don't think they exist."

Which is, naturally, when she felt like a steamroller came at her from a particularly dank grouping of trees just off to her right - and whatever it was, it smelled pretty dank, too.

Author’s Note #2: I should *NOT* have to say this, but here we are -

The samples/teasers above from upcoming parts BELONG TO ME; they are not ideas or concepts that are free for other authors to use, even if I NEVER USE THEM; I often toss people “freebies”, but I make it clear when I am fine with them taking a concept & running with it.

Author’s Note #3: Tangentially related: I am aware that maaaaany many many many others have done this cross-over. I have only scanned over two, myself, and was actually asked advice on one of them. As noted, the first part was intended as a one-shot spoof, but it grew.

None of the others [see above, RE: two] I’ve seen have tackled it the way I am/will be doing and, as I stated in Part One of this story, >40% is completely of my imagining, minus the re-creation of certain scenes in the novel/the movie.

This story began on 21 March 2017, so if you stumble upon a TPB/SPN cross-over story that was published prior to that date & has such stark similarities to mine that you think I should address it, please don’t hesitate to let me know.

* Removed old tag list for length’s sake! - Jan 2018

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Lakeside Confessions

This is my first attempt at a Reader insert fan fic. Hopefully it isn’t too awful. This can also be read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9184159

Summary:  Steve and Natasha plan a mini vacation to the Barton ranch to visit Clint and his wife. The reader is under the impression that the whole team is coming. Turns out it'll be just Steve, Natasha, the reader and her crush - James "Bucky" Barnes.

Word Count: 3,171

Warnings: None - Unless you count potentially awful first attempt at Reader insert.

“This seems like an awful idea.” (Y/N) said to Natasha.

“(Y/N), come on. You’re already packed. Clint’s farm is beautiful.” Nat replied. “Plus, it’ll give you some quality time with your crush.” She continued with a wink.

“Hush, someone could hear you.”

Natasha smiled antagonistically, “So you’d probably get really upset if I yelled out that you didn’t want to go because you think it’ll be to awkward.”

“If it will get you to zip your lips, I’ll come.” (Y/N) said picking up her duffle back.

“Good choice” Nat said stepping out into the hall. “Oh, look.” She beamed. “Hey Barnes.”

“Hi ladies.” He said as he approached your door.

“Hey Buck.” (Y/N) said timidly.

“You guys need help getting your bags down?” Bucky asked

“I think I’m al..”

“That’d be really nice. Thanks Bucky.” Nat interrupted.

Bucky picked up yours and Natasha’s suit cases and headed towards the elevator.

“We’ll be right behind you.” (Y/N) called out.

“Wheels up in ten.” Bucky called back with a smile.

You watched and waited for the elevator doors to close with him inside. This was gonna be a long trip if you couldn’t get Nat under control.

“What’s that look for?” She asked innocently.

“You know what.”

“He offered. Plus, it’s a sweet gesture.”

You grabbed your jacket off the back of your door. “Come on, let’s go. You don’t want them to leave without me.” You replied sarcastically.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just kiss him already.” She said pushing the down arrow on the elevator. “You two both practically fall over yourselves every time the other enters the room.”

“We do not.”  

The elevator ride seemed slow, when the doors opened Steve and Bucky was already in the hanger; bags were being loaded onto the Quin Jet.

“We’re not all gonna fit in that.” (Y/N) said to Nat.

“Not all of us are going.” She replied with a smirk.

You gave her a questioning look.

“Just you, Barnes, Steve and myself.”

“That’s an odd combination.” You replied confused.

Doing the math in your head you realized exactly what kind of situation you were walking into. Two couples, You and Bucky – for an entire weekend.

“I thought Tony was coming.” You hesitated for a second. “Come to think of it, I also thought Wanda, Vision and Sam were coming.”

“They were going to.” Nat replied smugly. “Something came up with Rhody, so Tony had to stay behind. Thor requested Visions presence on Asgard regarding the mind stone and Wanda wanted to join Vision.”

“When did, all this come up?” You questioned.

“Oh.” Nat looked at you like a deer that had just been caught in headlights. “Last night.”

“Mmhh.” You replied not believing her.

Walking on board the Quin Jet you found your normal seat directly behind the pilot. Steve usually flew and you loved to pepper him with questions about the jet and his flying adventures from before his time in the ice. Natasha sat across from you as the men locked everything down to make sure it was secure. After buckling into the seat, you began to fiddle with the hem of your jacket. You looked up as Steve took a seat next to Nat and buckled in.

“If you’re sitting there, who is sitting there?” You questioned pointing towards the pilot seat.

“I am.” Bucky answered as he walked between you and Steve.

“Oh.” You stammered.

“Do you have a problem with me flying, doll?” Bucky asked.

You blushed at the nickname. “No, not at all. I was just surprised.”

Bucky smiled and turned back in the seat to prepare for take-off. “It’s about a three-hour flight. So, we should be landing just about five.”

******

The flight west was beautiful, you’d lived in isolation most of your life so nature was something to you that you mostly just saw in movies and television. But, the further west you went the greener the ground became. It looks almost like a patch work quilt of various shades of greens and browns amongst the forests.

“We’re about a mile out.” Bucky called from the pilot seat.

You perked up in your seat to see around Bucky. You were curious to see the farm that so many of the Avenger hadn’t known existed until a few short years ago, Clint had been hiding a family from the world to keep them safe. You had heard how upset some of the team was when it had original happened; but, you only had admiration for him and his wife. Their willingness to be apart to keep each other safe while still falling more in love with each other every day was something fairy tales could be made of.

The trees began to thin out before opening into cul-de-sac shape. There was a small pond off to the side of the red barn and white house. It was a beautiful old farm house with a green brown roof and wrap around porch. It brought a smile to your face to think that places like this could really exist outside of a movie set.

Bucky smoothly landed the jet in the field behind the barn before dropping the door for us to exit. Nat and Steve both shot you soft smiles as you unbuckled and stood.

“We’ll come back for the bags in a bit.” Steve said to Bucky.

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“Shall we?” Steve asked Natasha holding out his hand.

They had been a thing since the weeks after the ordeal with the Accords. Everyone had gone their separate ways to sort out what had happened, but just expected. Someone needed help, so they brought the band back together. A new dynamic was in play that most everyone was still trying to figure out.

You and Bucky followed along behind them, as Nat led the way to the home she was all too familiar with.  Electricity radiated between you both without a single touch. You’d been crushing on James Buchanan Barnes since the first time you walked into the Stark Tower. Both of you were shy, which made it hard for either of you to open to the other. You had heard the many stories of the Winter Soldier, many nights when he first moved into the tower you were awoke by the screams of his nightmares. But all that set aside you had never seen the Winter Soldier in the tower; only Bucky. He was kind and sweet. Though conversations between the two of you were short – he was never anything but caring and gentle to you.

Bucky gestured for you to go ahead of him as you climbed the stepped up to the front door. Natasha tapped on the door as she pushed it open.

“Honey, I’m home.” She called out gleefully

“Come on in!” A woman’s voice called out from the distance.

We all stepped in the front door and Bucky closed it behind him.

“Honey, they’re here.” The voice called out again.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” The woman said as she embraced Natasha.

“I’ve missed you too.” Natasha replied. “Where are the kids?” She questioned.

“With my parents. Kid free weekend for all of us.”

“Huh,” Natasha replied with a smile.  “You remember Steve.” Nat replied pointing to Cap.

The woman extended her hand. “Great to see you again, Captain.”

“You as well, Mrs. Barton.”

“Oh, please. Call me Laura.”

“This is Steve’s best friend, James Barnes – he goes by Bucky.”

She stepped forward, eyeing his metal arm. “I’ve heard great things about you from Clint, it’s an honor to meet you.” She stated reaching out to shake his hand.

“And this.” Natasha said coming to stand next to you. “This is (Y/F/N)(Y/L/N). The girl Clint helped me save.”

“This is her?” Laura said as her eyes grew.

“It is lovely to meet you.” She said opening her arms to hug you.

You normally weren’t a huggy person, but you obliged and hugged her back.

“Clint told me that you were the last of the Red Room survivors. I can’t imagine how much of a transition this had been for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barton; and thank you for opening your home to all of us.”

“I heard my name.” Clint said as he walked around the corner wiping his hands on a red grease rag.

“I called for you.” Laura said.

“Eh, I knew you’d get your hellos out of the way faster without me.”

Nat and Steve both chuckled.

“Kid, I’m glad Nat talked you into coming.” Clint said walking towards you with open arms.

You hugged him back, his hugs had felt safe to you since the day he rescued you from that awful place. “She didn’t really give me much of a choice.”

“I’m sure you two could have duked it out, if you really didn’t want to come.” He said pulling back with a wink. “But it’s okay to admit it, you missed me. You just had to come.”

You laughed so hard you had to catch yourself before you snorted, “I did miss you.”

“Steve, Nat; Glad to see you haven’t chased off the kid yet.”

“Just doing our jobs.” Steve replied with a smile.

“Barnes, good to see you again.” Clint said reaching out to shake his hand.

You caught Bucky’s eyes as he looked up at Clint; both of you smiling at each other.

Clint kept a hold of Bucky’s hand as he spoke. “You’re keeping the kid safe, right? From the possibilities of anything painful, broken hearts for examples.”

“Clint.” Laura said softly.

You blushed at Clint’s implications.

“Clint, why don’t you get the barbeque started.” Laura suggested to her husband.

“Bucky and I will go out and grab the bags.” Steve announced heading towards the front door.

The men quickly dispersed leaving you alone with Nat and Laura. Looking up between the two women you noticed the look they were giving you.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re blushing again.” Nat smirked.

“Come to the kitchen, we can prepare the rest of dinner.” Laura replied leading the way.

Laid out on the kitchen were the ingredients to make a toss salad. “Can I?” You asked

“Yes, please.”

You washed your hands at the sink before taking a seat at the island to begin tearing the lettuce.

“So, what is the story with you and Mr. Barnes.” Laura asked.

“No story.” You replied light.

Nat snickered in the background.

“I’ll bite.” Laura said turning to look at Nat. “What’s the story between Ms.(Y/L/N) and Mr. Barnes?”

******

Later that evening after the sun had set and dinner had settled, Clint got the idea to have a bonfire. Collecting the necessary items – marshmallows, camp chairs, long sticks and a few alcoholic beverages the six of us made our way out to the stone fire pit. You were in tow behind Nat when you realized what seats were left. Nat took the seat between Steve and Laura, leaving you with the only empty seat between Clint and Bucky.

“Are you even old enough to drink, kid?” Clint asked.

You laughed, “I’m twenty-three.”

“Has it been that long?” Nat said.

“Five years.” You replied. “I was with Shield for two years before it fell.”

“Where were you when it fell?” Bucky asked.

You turned to look at him. “Washington D.C.” You stated. “I was in the control room at the Triskelion.

“Oh.” He replied.

“It got hairy in there, but I made it out.” You said reassuringly.

“There never should have been a fight there to begin with.” Bucky replied softly. “I’m gonna take a walk.” He continued before getting up.

“Buck, wait.” Steve called out as he got up.

“I think that (Y/N) should take this one.” Nat suggested

She looked at you and gave a reassuring smile.

“I can handle it.” You assured Steve.

You got up following Bucky.  He wasn’t necessarily running, but man he did not walk slow. He was headed towards the small pond that was off to in the distance. When you felt, you were far enough from the rest of the group you called out for him.

“Buck, could you slow down.” You called out.

“What are you doing?” He said, stopping to look at you.

“I didn’t think you should be alone.” You said honestly.

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” He said turning to walk again.

Thankfully his pause in walking, even in though it was brief gave you a chance to catch up. Now only trailing behind slightly you waited it out. Realizing he didn’t want to talk, you simply followed him until you arrived at the pond. You watched as he started off to one side of it. Choosing to give him space, you sat on the edge of the pond and watched the water.

Watching closely, you notice Bucky’s pace slowed down. You realized this was the first time you had seen him so upset. At times since Bucky joined the house hold you had seen him ask for space when he became upset or confused about a situation. But he rarely left a gather in such haste. The fall of Shield was far from the Winter Soldier’s fault, you found yourself confused as this was a topic that had been discussed between Steve and Buck a few times; and he seemed to have dealt with it.

Lost in your own thoughts, it startled you when Bucky came to sit beside you.

“You’re not going away are you?” He questioned.

You turned to him and smiled. “Nope. I’m here to stay. We can talk if you want to talk, or just sit here and stare at the water. But I can tell you’re upset.”

“Why were you in the control room that day?” He questioned.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Field Agents, don’t belong in the control room.”

“I was checking on a friend. Rumlow and his cronies came in before I could leave.”

“You shouldn’t have been there.” He said softly, almost as if I wasn’t supposed to hear.

“It’s not like any of us knew there was going to be an attack on the Triskelion that day.”

“Did you get out before the building collapsed?” He questioned.

“I did. After Rumlow left the room, myself and a few other agents help as many as we could get out of the building.”

“How badly were you injured?”

“I needed a few stitches and wore cast on my wrist for a few weeks.” You answered. “How did you know I had been hurt?”

“Steve told me once. He told me that him, you and Nat were the only three from the house there that day.”

“You know you aren’t responsible for that day, right?”

“I’m responsible for many bad things, (Y/N).”

“Someday you’re going to forgive yourself.” You said softly. “Someday you will realize that you are a victim of an awful tragedy. Those things they made you do, those weren’t you. You were a soldier following orders. You couldn’t have stopped it if you tried.”

Bucky didn’t say anything.  The two of you sat in silence as the stars reflected in the water in front of you.

“You know when you first moved into the tower, I’d wake up when your nightmares became too much.” You said softly, “I’d wake up to your screams, they broke my heart; because I could only imagine the things that haunted your sleep.” You paused for a moment turning to look at him. “After I realized you didn’t come out of your room when you woke from those; I started sitting outside the door until I could hear your breathing return to a calm state.”

Silence passed between you again.

“I’m sorry I woke you all those times.” He said softly.

You reached over to squeeze his hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Buck.”

Much to your surprise he didn’t pull his hand back from your own. You were even more surprised at the gesture that came from you. You chalked the new-found bravery up to the slight buzz you were feeling from the wine at dinner.

“My nightmares have subsided a lot since I moved in to the house.” He realized.

“What do you think as helped?” You questioned.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, he was looking deeply into your eyes – almost as if he was trying to see your soul.

“Because I found something that makes me happy, that makes me feel safe. It’s something that makes me think that I can do good.” He took a deep breath. “Sometimes though, I have nightmares that it gets taken from me.”

You smiled at Bucky, “No one is ever going to take that security from you Buck. We all love having you at the tower. I’m glad that it makes you feel that way.”

A blush formed on Bucky’s cheeks. “It’s not the tower that makes me feel that way or even all the people in it. Trust me, Sam eats at every nerve I have.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh.” You said surprised. “Then what is it?”

“It’s you, (Y/N).” He replied with a smile.

A smile took over your face that spread from ear to ear. “Oh, Bucky.”

“I mean it, I really do.” He assured.

Unsure of the words you needed, you embraced the saying ‘actions speak loud than words’. As you leaned in towards him, he didn’t pull away. Your lips met and fit together like two perfect puzzle pieces. Your kiss was full of passion and need and only ended when the need for air became too great.

Bucky looked down at you with a smile.

“I’ve been waiting for that way too long.” You confessed.

“Me too.” He confessed back as he wrapped his arm around you.

You leaned into his shoulder, content in his embrace. You would find yourself looking up at him and he was already staring at you. In turn it made you blush, which only made him smile.

“Pay up Steve.” Clint said startling you both.

“Hey guys.” Bucky said turning his head.

Nat, Steve, Clint and Laura all came walking up the path to you.

“I see you worked out your differences.” Steve said handing Clint a twenty-dollar bill.

“You bet it on it, I see.” You replied

The four of them laughed. “We will leave you guys alone.” Nat said pushing Steve backwards.

Not letting them spoil the moment, you nuzzled back in to Bucky chest and watched the pond. His grip around your waist tightened as he ran a hand up and down your back. There was no way of knowing what would happen when the sun came up or even when you ended up back in New York. But you were thankful for the few moments you had with him and the confession of knowing how important you were to him.

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad vacation after all.

Tagging a few of my favorite blogs -

@bovaria @aubzylynn @hymnofthevalkyries @after-avenging-hours @love-buckybarnes @callingmrsbarnes​

[flyrtreynolds]

Noisey: Is Okay Kaya Living in Pop Music's Future?

Noisey published an abridged version, condensing down the lead so that it read more generic, in my opinion. Here’s my first draft, which I’m more attached to.

Pictures taken by the wonderful Lauren Geisswein 

The San Damiano Mission, like many houses of worship these days, is rolling with the punches. With the encouragement of the Diocese of Brooklyn, two friars have come up with a “novel approach” to cure the dwindling followership of the over-100-year-old Catholic church located between Williamsburg and Greenpoint, mainly consisting of hosting concerts and hucking booze during off-service hours. Thus what once had a congregant of god-fearing Slovak immigrants at the turn of the 20th century now has a Resident Advisor page. 

Maybe no act the church has booked thus far exemplifies that change more than Kaya Wilkins, also known as Okay Kaya. Beneath a mural of angels ascending to heaven — the venue’s Romanesque decor remains very much intact — and bathed in blue light, the stoic and willowy 27-year-old singer hums out a bawdy question to a room full of her faithful adorees:

Do you dance like you fuck? Or do you dance like you make love?

With it, some of the crowd noticeably withers with delight in the pews. I can’t help but view the declaration of such candid words in this setting as a metaphor for the 27-year-old’s best work. Within the timeless format of a pop song, she can place a blunt truth that turns the experience on its head, making it both refreshing and more relatable.

Would you come with me to get an IUD? She coos on the first line of “IUD,” the lead single off her upcoming debut, Both.

Maybe, if you come with me, I will let you come in me.

This candor doesn’t immediately shine through in her persona offstage, however. I learn this the afternoon before the San Damiano show, talking with the songwriter, model, and actress in her cozy (New York tongue for “tiny”) Greenpoint apartment, pleasantly aglow with some springtime sun. Kaya—whose real name is Kaya Wilkins—sits perched on top of her bed, cross legged, talking in small pours, allowing her thoughts to slowly fill the glass. Her demeanor is dulcet and reflective, traits you wouldn't necessarily associate with someone who’s often in front of a camera.

“I think I’ve always had trouble communicating,” she says amid a soft smile, admitting that she’s still getting the hang of interviews. “I found mediums to express what I was feeling.”

Those mediums have grown steadily since her move to New York from her birthplace Norway eight years ago. In addition to her music career, which started with an Arthur Russell-inspired Soundcloud mix of her redolent vocals and has blossomed into a rep as one of the city’s more honest singer-songwriters, she also has her long-time modeling gig that’s recently placed her on high-profile runways around the world. Then there’s her acting work, which started with a flash of brilliance in last year’s Thelma, a Norwegian film about a student who struggles with her feelings for another woman (played by Kaya) and the supernatural powers that get intertwined in them.

But these successes haven’t necessarily come naturally to Kaya; with each new artform, she says, comes a growth period when she must discover where her identity fits into things. Whether it’s flooding a church nave with placid truths, rocking “silk skunk” (a real thing, yes) in a Calvin Klein campaign, or auditioning for a role without much prior acting experience, the underlying strategy of it all is to let her personality be the catalyst for the creativity. “I don’t know how I could get away with it otherwise. I don’t have the skills necessarily, but I do have me,” she explains. “I’m sure of my own voice, my style. And that feels good cause I’m insecure about everything else.”

Like many of us, finding her voice has been a journey for Kaya, one that can be traced back to her childhood in a small peninsula community outside of Oslo. There, in a cottage-like house only 10 minutes from the beach, she grew up with her mother and three brothers (her American father, a former marine that was stationed in Oslo at one point, raised her other two brothers in Boston). She has warm memories of summers there, swimming and playing in her mom’s garden, where she would match her clothing to the purple and yellow flowers that adorned it. She found the frigid winters to be bleaker, however, and the area’s homogeneous community to be problematic in relation to her ambiguity, both in identity and appearance (her mom is white and father black).

So she turned to art, at least in part inspired by her mom who worked as a proofreader by day and a painter by night and was just as likely to play Prince around the house as she was a Swedish jazz singer or Cypress Hill. Kaya would twiddle around with a guitar and sometimes play with her older brother’s metal band, but her first obsession became movement after a dance instructor in high school showed her examples of famous performers who “moved funny,” a descriptor she would often get in ballet classes. She realized she could use her uniqueness as an advantage, turning her small gestures, deemed awkward before, into innovative moves.

While we talk, I can see some of these gestures in her hands, which she nimbly tilts and curls through the air while describing things, like she’s peeling back an invisible curtain to examine them. “I just love to feel connected...like, ‘Oh someone is doing something that doesn’t have as many rules,’” she says of finding her creative niche.

She planned to pursue movement into the future, even pondering going to a “modern mime school” in Paris (“I was going to be like a clown basically”). But fate intervened, and she was discovered by modeling scouts, who encouraged her to take up the profession. After a year of trying to make it in London, she moved to NYC to make more money as an e-commerce model, posing as a “shell of a human” on retail websites like Ann Taylor’s LOFT.

It was during this period, feeling under stimulated, isolated and alone, that she decided to revisit music. She picked up a guitar and started recording short tunes to send to her friends and family back home. To get their attention, she would create rough covers of records by artists that differed wildly in tone than her, like Nate Dogg or the Curtis Mayfield-led Impressions. The songs came out soulful and slow moving, gorgeous recreations of upbeat jams. Eventually, combined with her original recordings, she had enough material to consolidate and post online.

“It’s something I just wanted to work on for a while. That’s all I know really,” she recalls of her first musical sketches. “It felt very necessary.”

What happens next Kaya finds strange to talk about, a familiar situation for seemingly any woman trying to break into the music industry. An A&R found her mix and approached her about management, promising to put out her work and introduce her to notable producers. She agreed, and together they released the songs that would announce her Okay Kaya project to the world, including the heart-tugging “Damn, Gravity,” a slowburner centered around love slipping through the fingertips produced by King Krule and Sampha collaborator Rodiadh McDonald. But the A&R also made strange requests, like pressuring her not to tell producers that she was in a relationship (Kaya has been dating songwriter Aaron Maine, also known as the singer Porches, for the past year). The process began to feel “grimy,” she says, and “really uncomfortable.” So she walked away, leaving behind both a deal with a prominent East Coast imprint and distribution through indie powerhouse XL Recordings. Suddenly the idea of an album seemed distant.

“It didn’t make me happy or even wanting to try for a minute. I think it took like three years for me to feel like I had my voice and...just going back to what I wanted to do.”

With “do,” she gestures her arms in upward circles, indicating the significance of the room surrounding us, where she recorded over half of Both, now set to be self-released on June 1 through her own label, Heavy Body Records. The apartment has become the epicenter of her work and a symbol of her newfound self-reliance in music. A small recording setup of a mic and mixer sits against the wall, next to a scribbled setlist for tomorrow’s show; a pile of clear garbage bags, full of merch Kaya designed with a friend, crams a corner. The soundtrack buzzing softly out of the speakers is made up entirely of women singers—Caroline Polachek, Nina Simone, Sibylle Baier—Kaya found inspiration in during the record’s writing process.

Both is a work of cogitation, poking at concepts and feelings Kaya has encountered in her journeys from Scandinavia to New York, the runway to the silver screen. “Emulate,” for example, examines the idea of projecting love and whether it leads to genuineness or manipulation, a question that lies at the heart of the two young women’s dynamic in Thelma. More directly, “Calendar Girl” was inspired by a time when Kaya felt it difficult to leave her apartment so she’d write simple tasks on a calendar—“walk around the block”—as motivation to break her self-confinement. Most of the arrangements that propel these thoughts, aside from a few co-produced by Maine, are her own.

Which brings us back to “IUD,” a single that many women have accepted as a righteous ode to self care amid the current tumultuous political environment. Kaya has a unique perspective on the situation, as she comes from a country that provides basic healthcare services, no questions asked. Thus, while talking about it, she’s able to underlie its significance and how foolish the alternative would be. “I just wanted to be transparent about it and be like, ‘This is happening. People need this.’”

It’s here that we possibly get a glimpse of the future. Kaya’s music, deeply personal in nature, is slowly becoming tangible outside of her own consciousness. In other words, her songs are no longer just her’s; she now shares them with others. We ponder this truth together in the kitchen, where we’ve moved so she could lean out the window and smoke a cigarette. The sound of hammering wafts up from a renovation on the first floor, placing our words to a grating rhythm. A table cloth of husky red roses, maybe a small ode to her mother’s garden back home, ties the room together.

In the self-financed and -choreographed videos for “IUD” and “Dance Like U,” the second single off Both, Kaya presents her feelings as physical embodiments identical in appearance to herself. One twin is irritating and cumbersome, representing trauma and sadness; the other is gentle and understanding, symbolizing acceptance. The “weird sisters,” as Kaya has dubbed them, were born out of a simple concept—a dualism that could serve as an album’s core theme (hence the title Both) and an interesting visual driver. But first and foremost they’re pieces of her, now barer than ever.

So much on the horizon—the show tomorrow, the album drop, the press that will follow—will put those pieces on display. She admits she’s nervous.

“I have no idea what it’s going to be like,” she says with an exhale of smoke. Her tender smile returns as she remembers the most important lesson she’s learned thus far.

“But wait, who am I trying to be? I’m just trying to be me.”

https://noisey.vice.com/en_us/article/qvxxmd/okay-kaya-interview-future-of-pop-both-2018