#when she died the whole town got together and watched the procession with her tiny pink coffin

[northwest-by-a-train]

.

[highdramas]

cherry - part three 🍒

a javier peña / little women au

summary: it’s been three years since that night in the pool with javi, but fate is not finished with you two yet. warnings: age gap ( reader is ten years younger than javier ), language word count: 2602

three years later…

your arms are locked with teddy’s as you stumble down the paris street, laughter dripping off your lips. she’s rattling on about some guy she met at the last club but you couldn’t care less-- your mind is in a certain euphoria. god, parisians really do know how to party, you think to yourself.

it’s been one year since you’ve moved to paris but you’ve never once regretted the decision. when things fell through with pauline after your grandmother died your senior year of college, there hadn’t really been much calling you back to the states. you still loved new york, and you liked to visit, but your hometown wasn’t at the top of your destination list. you still kept in touch with your parents, but you can tell that it’s not the same. margot has come and visited, and you went out to oregon to stay with nora and finn.

but pauline had told you to never talk to her again.

you can’t blame her for the resentment she holds against you. when your grandmother left everything in your name…

you try not to think about it all too much. you’ve kept the money in the bank and you have the key to her estate on your keyring, but it doesn’t truly belong to you, and you know that it never will. pauline had loved that house.

again, you try not to think about it all that much.

you’re older and you’re more mature now, and you don’t even think about javier anymore. most of the time.

there are late nights where he creeps into your thoughts, his lips on yours, wet and clinging to one another and sometimes you’re still not quite sure if you made it all up in your head or not. after that night, you two had never discussed the kiss. sometimes you wish you had slipped into his room the next morning, hushed whispers as sunlight broke in through the window. but you hadn’t. in the months after your kiss, javier’s feelings for pauline didn’t falter. it took only six months for him to confess his attraction to her plainly, fully, and for pauline to reject him. in the moment, you had wanted to fight her for it. you nearly had. she had javier wrapped around her finger, and she simply didn't want him? you had watched as javier drifted away from pauline, the gravity of the situation between them tearing them apart. it had been sad to watch javier drift from your family the way that he did-- he had been a member of the family. now, an awkward sort of tension holds the room when his name is brought up at dinner.

not that you’re invited to any of the family dinners.

when you got your first boyfriend in new york the following school year after the summer at javier’s, you found yourself incessantly comparing him to javi. how when he kissed you, it didn’t give you the butterflies that javier’s kiss had. the love affair had been so brief, not even a full night, yet it had left such a lasting impression on you-- you wish you could formulate why.

but, most of the time, you don’t think about javier and his soft hair and his tanned skin and the way that the sweat had stuck to it all summer. you focus on your art and on your very charming new french boyfriend. you focus on your friendships-- living with teddy in paris was a dream, and you still saw sam and esther often. you start grad school soon and you miss your grandmother every day. the one person who seemed to truly see you.

things aren’t perfect. not even close. but they’re good, and that’s enough.

“and god-- i just know that his dick is big. i know it’s big. you know?” teddy’s rattling off and you don’t know how long she’s been talking, but regardless, you’re comforted by the sound. you and teddy had been good friends in college, but moving to a foreign country together amplified that. she’s loud and she’s daring and she’s intelligent and she’s the kind of person who just got you. that was what you really craved for, at the end of the day. to be understood. years of pauline’s judgement and you finally felt free from that.

teddy’s words bring you to laughter and you both duck into an alley for a cigarette, the filter stained with a red ring on lipstick. you lean against the brick and it’s nice and cold, a contrast from the heat of the club you’d just escaped. your boyfriend, robin, was away from the city for the holidays. it’s the weekend before christmas and nora has extended numerous offers for you to stay with them over the holiday, but you hadn’t taken the bait. you were happy staying in france. sure, you were a bit sad robin hadn’t invited you home-- you can’t be too sad, it’s barely been two months since you two had started seeing each other, but a piece of you had hoped. you nearly invited yourself in the days leading up to his departure, but you’d stopped yourself.

so instead, you stay. you stay and you drink with teddy, who doesn’t get along with her own family, either. she has a cousin on gap year and the three of you have smashing plans to drink several bottles of wine in your flat and watch bridget jones’s diary. and it’s what you want.

you take another long drag off the cigarette and blow the smoke away from teddy, turning your head back towards the street. there’s a noise that fills paris that you’ve found as a comfort. the sound of laughter, conversations that you could hardly understand. the sound of kisses between lovers on the street. so many strangers that you would never know a thing about. you squint for a moment at the dark figure walking on the other side of the street, cars few and far between. he’s got a casual walk, his hands stuffed into pockets of nice dress pants, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. your eyes widen. so many strangers, but he’s not one of them.

“javier!” it comes out as a screech, stopping teddy’s speech instantly. you drop your cigarette and are bounding across the road, nearly getting hit in the process. you lay your hand onto the hood of the vehicle for a moment and wave to them, as if to say, thanks for not hitting my drunk ass, before you continue on your mission.

there he is before you. a bit more weathered than when you last saw him. his brows are furrowed but there’s a softness to his face that you’ve always loved. but finally, when he gets a good look at you and realizes exactly who he’s looking at, his whole face lights up.

he’s reaching out for you and your arms are around him and you’re sure that his friend is wondering who the fuck you are, but it doesn’t matter. you absolutely melt against him and a hold has never felt so right before. you pull away enough to see his face, holding it in your hand, squishing his cheeks together. “oh, fuck, look at you!” you’re slowly starting to regret that last vodka soda you had and you’re hoping that he can’t tell that you’re this drunk-- but do you care either way?

“i can’t believe you’re here,” he breathes and there’s laughter following it and god if you can’t bottle that sound and drink it. he pushes a piece of your hair back and all of those sentiments about not thinking about javier pena are as far away from your brain as they can be.

teddy grounds you. she approaches behind you and waves to javier’s friend and slowly, reluctantly, you remove your body from his.

javier shakes teddy’s hand and you shake his friends, steve’s, smiling at him. but your entire focus is on javier-- sparkly eyed and trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s here. “what the fuck are you doing here, cherry?” he finally asks, that same delightful smile on his face. the summer house feels so far away but so close all at the same time.

you explain that you’ve been living in paris for a year. you don’t need to mention your grandmother-- he knows, you’re sure of it. he may not talk to pauline anymore, but that doesn’t mean family gossip doesn’t get back to him still. “well, i’m happy to have a familiar face in town,” he says with a grin, hands on his hips in that way that he always did. “let me take you out for a drink tomorrow night. we can catch up.”

“that’d be great.” you wish you could wipe the grin off of your face. you exchange whatsapp and embrace once more before you and teddy are hand in hand, walking in the opposite direction of javier and steve. you look back over your shoulder to sneak one last look at him.

you’re greeted with javier doing the same. and he grins, and it makes your stomach turn.

teddy teases you the whole walk home, but your ears are ringing and you feel like you’re floating. the whole interaction has simultaneously sobered you and made you feel utterly love drunk, leaning on teddy in the elevator, wiping your makeup off in your tiny bathroom, before you’re laying on your back on your bed on the expensive silk sheets you had no business purchasing.

you stare up at the ceiling for a moment. and as you do, your phone buzzes.

i can’t wait to see you again, cherry.

--

you’d texted javier on and off throughout the day. you’d discovered that he was in paris on business, though business was still a loose term for it. he’s advanced in his father’s financial advisory company even since you’d last spoken, working on his own entrepreneurial investing endeavors on the side. he’s meeting with a french client and decided why not stay and play awhile-- in true javier fashion, you note. you want to knock him for his playboy lifestyle, but how can you, when it’s brought him back to you in this way?

you were the one who suggested your favorite trendy bar in le marais. in the depths of an ancient historical building resided a small speakeasy in the basement. ambient lighting and hushed talking mingled with the sounds of easy live jazz. it was one of the first spots that your first local boyfriend had taken you to when you moved.

boyfriend. your thoughts trail to robin and his christmas getaway that you were not invited to. where there should be a pang of guilt for going and seeing javi, there is none. only pauline’s voice in your head. selfish little cherry, always getting what she wants, and not caring who is caught in the crossfire of her silly desires.

maybe she was right.

maybe she was so right, that even that thought wasn’t enough to get you to not see javi.

you stand outside your apartment building and hit your juul, the vapor being exaggerated by the blistering cold that brushes against your flushed cheeks, painting your nose a light shade of red. javier had let you know he would come to you before you set out on your trek. and so, you wait. it’s growing closer to eight o’clock and suddenly, a storm of anxious butterflies begin to flutter in the pit of your stomach. this was javi you were talking about-- javi, who despite all of his best parts, had his flaws. he was forgetful, he was flighty, he was the first one to run when the going got tough. he had proved that to you in the pool.

but five minutes to the hour, you begin to see his silhouette. he’s got his hands stuffed into his pockets, an easy grin on his face grows more and more visible as he comes closer to you. a smile spreads on your face and you brush your hair back from your face, just as he’s mere steps away from you. “hi.” the word is short, but there’s something else lingering in it.

“hi.” you jut your chin up and look past his shoulder, if only to give yourself a fighting chance in not melting right into his open palms. but, your eyes flick back to him to find that his have not left you. “i got worried you were gonna forget about me.”

a scoff rings in your ears, and he gives you a sidelong glance. you can see what lingers behind his eyes. an invisible voice tucked in brown eyes says, that’s ridiculous. for a moment, you simply stand there. there’s some sort of tether between you two that you can feel; it’s knowing. it’s understanding. you’d cultivated a life for yourself here, and now, the past runs to catch up with you. “so, this bar?” he says, and it sets the two of you off.

you walk in step with javier, quick dialogue popping between you two. there’s laughter and there’s light teasing, there is knowing looks and there is friendship there. there is--

“i spoke with pauline before i came to paris.”

it takes everything within you not to stop in your tracks. of course, is what begs to fall off of your lips. of course he had. “oh?” she raises a brow at him. “that makes one of us.” you play it off well, you think, an easy breezy smile on your lips.

but from the look he sends you, you can tell that he sees through your feigned attempt at humor. “she told me you still aren’t talking.”

“it’s funny, she always called me the family gossip. she must be projecting.” quick deflections are still no match for javier pena. he raises a brow in your direction, and you feel the air leave your lungs. “no. no, we aren’t.”

“why?”

“because she hates me? because i have everything she wants? because she’s jealous?” she pauses and stops, looking at him. “and because she hurt you. what she did, what she was doing--”

javier shakes his head. “no, no, no. this isn’t about me.” he looks nearly stern. “that’s your sister. that’s more important than whatever feelings i had for her.”

had, had, had. feelings had are not feelings current. your head tilts to the side. “and what feelings do you have now?”

there’s annoyance and it’s found in his brow, the furrow, the way he rubs his mustache before he begins to walk again. “you’re so nosey.”

“i think you like that about me,” you smile. “and i’m curious. we all saw it, you know.”

your mother was certain that javier and pauline would wed one day. they had been so intrinsically in sync with one another, it was hard to imagine they wouldn’t. for them, at least. you thought the contrary. biased reasoning or no.

the only sound around you two is parisian street noise and the clattering of your boots on pavement. “i don’t feel the way i did,” he says, finally. he looks over at you. “i think she was right. we were never going to work the way that i thought.”

it is not often that you are rendered speechless, but this is one of those moments. your eyes slide up to him, and you lean against him slightly, elbows brushing. “i don’t know about you, but i need a drink.”

🍒🍒🍒

xoxo, dee

[moonlightchess]

a brief interlude in which a young mortician finally meets his patron saint.

(Diaphanous).

Around five years old, when he first started hearing them. Soft, muted weeping echoing lightly through the cavernous halls just beyond his bedroom door, and by ten he was accustomed to sliding out of bed, yawning, padding to his doorway to step out into the endlessly shadowed maw veining through the upstairs of his family’s home. The moaning creak of the floorboards was easily avoidable if you knew where to slide your feet, which by then he did, and he’d whisper into the dark: “You’re okay. It’s all over now, but stay as long as you need to. You’ll be getting along when you’re ready.” And even then, there was something profoundly tender and melancholy wrapping itself around little Theodore like an aura, to which the ghosts usually responded favorably. On occasion, they’d even slip into his bedroom after he climbed back into bed, gently tugging his duvet over him in thanks.

Sixteen, and Pere introduced him to the family business in the most definitive sense yet, bringing him down into the embalming room. There, he was shown how to drain the bodies, to sew their gums securely closed, to carefully apply powders and lotions to suggest sleep despite death. Pere helped him to remove the heart and lungs of a corpse in the preparation process of the old fashion, despite it having fallen out of favor in more recent years. Bellefontaine, Louisiana, lingered a decade or two behind much of the nation, in every way from embalming practices to racial sensitivity, both topics having already been addressed with young Theodore. “A person is a person, deserving of respect and love and dignity regardless of their skin, wealth, or any other such thing that the ignorant might think defines them,” Theodore senior had informed his small son firmly, long ago, meeting his midnight-blue eyes that were so solemn and sympathetic even then. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pere.” Theodore had not understood, not entirely, back then. But at sixteen, hunched over the dead body of a local bait shop owner whose wife made the softest, sweetest beignets he’d ever tasted, clarity rose sharp and bitter. “Monsieur Dumonde,” had escaped him before he could swallow the words in the interest of professionalism. “I knew him. Used to buy worms from him when the boys wanted to go fishing, but it’s been so long. I didn’t know he was sick.”

“Everyone dies, ti-Theodore,” and he’d been in love with the way his name rolled from his father’s tongue in a thicker cajun accent than his own - tee-tay-oh-doure, Theodore junior. It was enormously soothing, even now as he considered shaving Monsieur Dumonde’s thick mustache away for his funeral - but in the end, he placed the straight razor back onto his father’s table of sharp tools, aware that his decision had been a test. “No. We leave the mustache, he always had one when he was alive. He used to tug on it and laugh at our homemade fishing poles whenever we went into his shop. His mustache was a part of him, and it’s important that we send him to the next with as much of the man he was intact as we can.” He’d been a little nervous, meeting the dusk-colored eyes that he’d inherited from his beloved father, holding his breath.

“Good boy,” and he’d exhaled. “There are many who would have shaved him, cut his hair, put on some strange new clothes he never would have chosen himself. But you, my sweet and quiet boy, you understand.”

Mere had been a dancer, once. Ballet had been her life, her identity, until a careless would-be principal prince had stumbled into her leap - during a rehearsal no less, she’d been denied even the dignity of a grand disaster to end her career in the middle of a soaringly tragic performance - and her ankle had snapped, had never healed properly. She limped a touch even then, bringing sweet tea out to their wraparound porch thick with creeping ivy and heavy flowers bursting open at random, studding the lush green like jewels in a necklace, where her teenage son sat cross-legged on a battered loveseat long since dragged out to face the elements of the swampland. Together, they would count the darting fireflies, tiny pinpricks of golden light waging a valiant war against the encroaching southern dark. “I was beautiful once,” she’d said to him. “They all used to come watch me dance, in the city.”

“You’re still beautiful, Mere.”

She’d only sighed, slipping a hand into the pocket of her pea-green silk skirt to retrieve a shot bottle of bourbon, hoarded from the liquor store in town, and poured it into her tea.

They were both gone now, six, seven years proper. He’d prepared their bodies, and in death all of his mother’s pain and longing had been exposed to him with the first incision into her cold and rigid flesh for the draining, sixty-two years of ballet and resentment filling up the glass reservoir of the tubing’s end, dark red. She’d always done up her soft, honey-colored hair into elaborate braids, draped over one shoulder or both or trailing down her back or even wound up into a twisted crown if she was in a happier mood than usual. Theodore had sat beside her, holding her stiff milky hand with his own and with the other, scrolling through youtube tutorials on how to create the perfect fishtail braid until he was confident.

Pere had gone five years after, the light in him having drained out as clear and real as every fluid in his wife’s body had eventually found its way into the belly of their aspirator in the basement. Pneumonia had taken his mother - she’d always had a poor and fragile immune system - but his father had been just shy of seventy and to this day, at thirty-two years old, Theodore had never been offered a satisfying cause of death for him. “Just his time, sug,” a nurse in powder blue scrubs had tried, patting his hand soothingly and because this was the south, “I’ll be praying for y’all - well, just you I suppose. Oh lord, you’re the only Bissonette left now, ain’tcha?”

He was. They’d left the entire mortuary to him, and with it all the responsibilities of being the local mortician and funeral director at such a tender age, and his head had at first swum dizzily with all the pressure and expectations. Theodore senior and his wife Lisette had been fixtures of their country community, familiar and comforting, always there whenever someone had passed on to arrange flowers and platters of cold cuts, to deliver gentle words to cushion the grief. They’d been known, trusted, but Theodore junior, well. Ti-Theodore Bissonette, so young to be running the whole house himself, and the folk of Bellefontaine just weren’t sure. Until the death of little Suzette Marchande.

Hit by a car, she’d been, some hideous beast driving drunk through the winding access road circling their little cajun town and pointed out toward Nola proper. He was in prison now, but Suzette remained dead, and in his huge, capable hands Theodore had poured every bit of his father’s knowledge and sensitivity into that girl. He’d dressed her in yellow, one of her own dresses supplied by her mother, but he’d also remembered that she’d loved frogs. She’d catch them in the swamp and hold them in both hands, laughing at their croaky sounds, but then she’d carefully deposit them onto some leaf somewhere. “They got big ones, in the jungle. The Amazon,” he remembered her saying when the Bissonettes had run into she and her parents in town once, years ago. “Big as cars, they are. I’m gonna go there someday and study ‘em.”

So he’d bought sparkly little green frog clips for her hair online, pinning it back from her freckled face. Her favorite stuffed froggie, named Monsieur Ourauron, Mister Ribbitt, had been lost in the crash, but he’d found one in the Amazon - or at least on amazon - that looked largely the same. When her parents had seen her during the open-casket service, they’d wept and clutched his hands, thanking him in a babbling blend of French, English and grief. That day had declared the end of one life and the beginning of another, as little Suzette had been delivered unto whatever waited after, but thirty-year-old ti-tay-oh-doure had been manifest and confirmed.

There was something to be said for how tall he was. He would have thought some would find it intimidating, difficult to relate to considering that he was six-seven or perhaps a touch over, impossibly long limbs and a hawkish nose, soft mouth borne of his Mere and his father’s nearly indigo eyes the color of a sky five minutes before the moonrise. His was soft, floppy, peanut-brown hair and a quiet timbre resonating in his voice that was immediately associated with the unthreatening sense of calm authority that his father had once carried around easy as an old sweater. Theodore would take care of everything, Bellefontaine knew. They’d be left free to grieve their lost, because he was here with his huge hands and endless legs and fleeting smile.

He lived alone, now. There had been flings, lovers, Audrey from Nola with her autumn-brown skin and fox-gold eyes, elegant and sure, but she hadn’t stayed long. “This place is charming, but you can’t actually expect to stay here all your life, can you?” she’d told him once, after the sex, the two of them naked and wrapped around each other in his sprawling bed with a gentle breeze from outside floating through his open window. She didn’t understand, and neither did the men, not even sweet Peter with his auburn curls and dimples.

“You’re all alone out here, doesn’t it get boring? Lonely? My god, you live in a mortuary.” His shiver had been all that Theodore had needed to kiss him tenderly and send him on his way. His father had been extraordinarily lucky to find Mere, he knew - so few understood, the nature of a curator of death. The ancient contract they’d signed, the tradition they’d inherited. It was sacred but horrifying to most, because everyone wanted the convenience of their holy order at the end of all things, but no one actually wanted to have to think about dying. About the fact that literally all of them, rich or poor, pious or skeptical, afraid or unafraid, was going to die. The repulsion, he understood, was instinctive, and he’d only made his lovers breakfast in the morning and never called any of them back.

Some of the ghosts never left, as it was, and there were mornings in which he’d make his way into the kitchen to find his black tea already steaming, his chair already pulled away from the table. Some of them had found their peace here with him, and so he’d leave his cello out on occasion so that they could pluck the strings or plink a few keys on his mother’s old baby grand in the living room. He was happy too, his natural introversion leaving him largely content in his solitary life. There were those who sought comfort in his touch after the funerals of their loved ones, holding onto his hands a beat too long as he bade them goodbye, meeting his eyes meaningfully, but he always released them to the hazy swamp air outside. They were hurting, vulnerable, and he was a gentleman.

It rained the night the stranger arrived, or stormed rather - Theodore’s lights had been flickering throughout the manor all night. He’d collected candles and charged his phone, but his power had soldiered on even as the thunder crashed and jagged needles of lightning slashed open the churning charcoal sky outside. He’d yanked open the heavy oak door in response to some insistent knocking, only to find a man roughly his age standing there on the porch. He was oddly untouched by the rain despite no car present behind him, moon-pale, spilled-ink hair thick and soft over limpid, silver-mirror eyes, colorless as a deep-sea creature’s, slicing through the dark.

“Saints alive, are you lost? Are you all right?” The man, he didn’t know personally, but a truth and clarity rolled from him like steam off the swamp, and he felt enormously familiar somehow.

“I wouldn’t say lost, no. May I come in?” His voice, soft and polite, still clear and steady over the storm.

“Yes, forgive me. Please.” He stepped aside, watching him enter, translucent eyes sweeping over the yawning, shadowed maw of the grand old manor’s entryway. “Who are you? I’m sorry, but I’m not taking in any bodies until morning.”

“I understand. Terribly sorry to intrude upon your evening like this, but you and I, we have a matter to discuss.” His accent was not local, nor was it unfamiliar. It felt like a forgotten dream, abruptly remembered, an old song once loved playing on the radio years later.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, Sir. Have you been to one of my funerals?”

“Sweet Theodore, I have been to all of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

The stranger clasped his hands behind his back, idle as a museum patron, gazing thoughtfully up to the enormous and heavily framed oil paintings of Bissonettes past lining the walls of the entryway. “It’s my fault for allowing myself to become so fond of you, but you’ve never really understood just how rare a person you are, have you Theodore? I shouldn’t have come here, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let you leave here tonight, that tree would have rendered your car to a smoking wreck and your body to worse. And you, sweet Theodore, you deserve so much better. After all the respect and care and compassion you have shown so unfailingly to myself and my vocation over the years - I’ve come to love you, and you deserve a soft and quiet end. So much sweeter than the one planned for you, I had to make sure you didn’t die in that crash. I had to come here, on this night. For all your kindness, tonight I will be kind to you.”

Drunk, perhaps. Some sauced-up tourist stumbling through the bayou after a bar crawl, but - this far from the city proper? “I’m afraid that you’re still losing me, will you please tell me who you are?”

He turned then, colorless gaze meeting Theodore’s, an echo of sorrow in his faint smile.

“You know who I am.”

In the end, it was true. He supposed at least a part of him had known from the moment he’d opened the door.

“I do. I didn’t think I’d meet you this young in life, but I’m pleased to find you a gentleman, Sir. I can only hope that in the time you’ve allowed me, I’ve done you proud.”

“You and your whole dear family. You don’t know how much I owe you, all of you. You would have lingered, in pain, on life support, for months. It was unbearable, unacceptable. Not you, not my Theodore who has served me so gently and so diligently for so much of your life.”

“I suppose it’s time, then.” He was not afraid. Death, he knew. He’d existed out here in a kind of stasis for years, honoring his patron saint, the man standing before him in a soft black sweater and reaching out to slip an arm through his.

“It is. But I think the storm is winding to a close, and the mists are always so lovely. Why don’t we go see.”

Nodding, Theodore allowed himself to be led to the door, turning briefly to look back just one last time into his beautiful old house, his shrine to a softer death than most knew existed. He’d always done his best, to make the transition as easy as possible for those on their way to some other place, and now it was time to go.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not for you, no.” The stranger opened the door then, and Theodore couldn’t be sure that the new world laid before him looked the same to both of them, but he smiled at what he saw.

“You were right. It’s beautiful.”

The house and the ghosts left wandering its halls signed in unison with the departure of their beloved Theodore, but the rain had slowed and the moon had risen and they were patient enough to wait a while. Someone would come, someone as warm and bright as him, someone who would take care of them as tenderly as he had, some new Theodore born. In the end, after all, nothing ever really died, and daylight was coming on soon, sure as a promise.

[heartofether]

Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

[yikesharringrove]

Hi!! I was just curious about Nancy and Jonathan’s relationship in your mango series! I was wondering if Nancy was an alpha? If she is, does that mean that Jonathan is a Beta or an Omega? Kids??? I have so many questions and am way too invested in this tiny part of this universe lol Please feel free to make this into a part with Steve and Billy talking to them about pups and bonding if you would like.

Masterlist

Part 29

-

I realized I literally haven’t mentioned the Wheelers this entire time rip to them I guess

Also I’m using this part as background to everything esp how Billy and Steve got together. Also no monster au I guess? tbh this part just made me realize NONE of this series is thought out

I literally never established a timeline, so I’ve decided it makes more sense for Billy to come to Hawkins earlier. You’ll see lmao. (this started as a little nonsense thing so the timeline of the whole Mango series is so whack pls no one try and do the math)

+I had traumatic emergency surgery on my uterus several years ago, so I’ve based all of Steve’s stuff on that

-

Steve dated Nancy Wheeler for about a month.

He was always drawn to fiery alphas, liked when they had sharp tongues, weren’t afraid to speak their mind. He liked ‘em smart.

Nancy seemed perfect to him, but Nancy didn’t like how much work omegas were. They needed constant reassurance of love, so much touching and cuddling, and that’s just not how she operates.

They had been casually dating for about a month early in her sophomore year when he asked her to spend his heat with him. She knew that meant he was serious about her, and let him down as gently as she could.

He didn’t take it too hard, and even invited her to a party he was throwing at his big empty house.

That was the first night she really talked to Jonathan Byers.

Their families had always been close, and they had been uncomfortable acquaintances for a long time, but she found him making a pip out of an apple, sat in the kitchen with him and got stoned for the very first time.

They were sitting close to one another, leaning closer, about to kiss when there was a splash outside, there was screaming.

They rushed out to see Steve Harrington, wet and shaking in the cold November night air, doing CPR on, on Barb.

He yelled at Tommy H., told him to call an ambulance.

Barb looked bad. Her lips were tinged blue, her skin pale.

She sank down next to her. Jonathan gently touching her back.

Most of the kids ran when they heard authorities were coming.

She held Barb’s freezing hand until the paramedics arrived.

Steve hadn’t stopped doing CPR the entire time had heard Barb’s ribs crack and splinter from the force.

The paramedics called it.

Steve was never really the same after that. He had become more withdrawn, had quit the swim team and stopped throwing big parties, he started babysitting Dustin Henderson, ended up babysitting most of the party soon enough.

He was still nice to Nancy, would ask her and Jonathan to hang out sometimes. She always thought he was sweet that he was a big heart. Hell, she sat there while he did CPR on her best friend for twenty minutes, but it was easier with Jon. As a beta, she didn’t have to be someone she wasn’t just to keep him from emotional breakdown.

But then Billy Hargrove rolled into town in the beginning of the summer, was all California golden, a big imposing alpha, and she began seeing less and less of Steve.

She thought it was just a summer fling, Billy didn’t seem like the type to stick around for very long, didn’t seem like the monogamous type.

Steve had a bad habit of trusting alphas too quickly, had been with alphas that just wanted to be able to say they’d fucked a male omega.

They were so uncommon, and usually these alphas were just curious, knew male omegas were the only presentation identifiable at birth due to their genitals, had wanted to see for themselves.

But Billy stuck around, starting hanging around Steve wherever he was, joining him when he spent time with the party, or with Jonathan and Nancy.

Billy was starting to grow on her more, as she watched and realized he loved Steve, that he wanted to be as clingy as Steve needed.

They would go on double dates sometimes, and Billy would pull Steve to sit on his lap just as often as Steve would plop himself on Billy’s lap. So she guesses they’re kind of a match made in heaven.

And then Steve got pregnant.

And she expected Billy to run for the hills, but he didn’t. Got kicked out of his house for Steve, changed his whole world for Steve and their pup, and at this point, they were four years in, had two happy pups and we in the process of moving into their first house.

She and Jon hadn’t even talked marriage yet, let alone bonding, were focusing on getting through school.

They had both gone to New York without even consulting one another, decided they didn’t want each other’s college choices to affect the other, that they should pick the best school for themselves.

When they revealed to one another, Jon showed her his acceptance to NYU, his dream school, while Nancy had handed him her Columbia letter.

She got regular updates from Steve, letters stuffed full with photographs and weekly reports. She contacted a bakery local to him to send him a cake when he called and excitedly told her that he had finally gotten his GED, had dropped out of high school in the February of his senior year when he got kicked out of his house, when he was the talk of the whole damn town.

“Letter from Steve.” Jonathan placed the rest of the mail on the counter, ripping open the envelope. “He put in updated pictures of the girls, look.” Nancy cooed over the photos. There was a gorgeous one of all four of them at the beach, Steve had infant Zara strapped to his chest, Billy was holding Mina. It was so cute. “He said they finished painting the house and should be moving in this week.”

“He mention how he was doing?”

“Of course not, have you met him? The only reason we actually knew he almost fucking died was because Billy called us.”

“I guess you’re right.” She was still flipping through photos. “Oh look at this one!” It was Steve caught mid laugh while Mina was doing him hair behind him. “We should go out to California soon to see them. Especially once they’re in their house.

“I’m gonna write Steve back, maybe we could go for New Year’s, or something.” She smiled up at him, stretching on her toes to kiss his jaw.

“I think that sounds nice.”

-

Mina was currently in the process of showing Jonathan every single toy she owned.

His lap was full of plastic food, blocks, dolls, stuffed animals, books, everything. She was talking excitedly about her little toy Camaro, the one that looked just like Daddy’s!

Nancy was just laughing as Jonathan nodded along patiently. He talked to her like she was an adult, asking her details about each toy in a very serious voice.

Steve slowly set himself on the couch. His abdomen still sore from surgery a few months ago. He was holding Zara, all dressed up in a little onesie that looked hand-knitted.

“How are you doing?” Steve rolled his eyes. Jon and Nancy kept asking.

“Nance, I’m fine. Just sore is all.” He kept dodging her real questions. She knew that the doctor had told Steve there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to be pregnant again, knew it was probably weighing on him. She just looked back and Jon.

“How is Mina doing with Zara? I remember when Mike was born I wanted nothing to do with him.” Steve laughed, bouncing Zara a little.

“She loves her. I swear if she could get me and Billy outta the picture, she would rather raise Zara on her own.” Zara gave a little choked off wail. “Sweet Pea, you are fine.” He put her on his chest, patting her back. “How’s school and everything?”

“It’s good! Jon’s going to end up graduating a semester early, so he’ll be finished by this time next year.”

“Oh, wow. Good for him!”

“I hear you left work, how’s that going?” Steve shrugged.

“They could only offer me one month of leave, and with the surgery and everything, I needed much longer. But you know I don’t mind staying home with these two. I mean, Mina’s in full day preschool now, just Monday to Thursday, but Zara is pretty fussy, so it’s okay. Once she’s not breastfeeding anymore, I’ll probably find a new job.”

“And Billy’s school is going okay?”

“Oh you know him, just overachieving at every stage. He had to cut back on his hours at the garage, he got a really nice internship at a law firm in town, and he’s actually getting paid for it.” Billy had been studying pre-law at UCSD, wanted to go into some kind of prosecution, possibly specialize in domestic cases. His internship was more personal assistant work to one of the partners of the firm, but it was better money than the garage, and something to beef up his resume a bit more.

Steve could hear the garage door beginning to rumble and whine as it slid up.

“Speak of the devil.” He smiled at Billy as he came in, kicking off his shoes. Mina sprinted up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, standing on his feet as he walked over to everyone.

“You talkin’ ‘bout me, Pretty Boy?” He picked up Mina so he could perch on the armrest next to Steve, giving him a kiss.

“All good things. Kind of.”  Nancy doesn’t think she’s ever seen Billy Hargrove in a suit. He loosened his tie, had take off his jacket to place into the coats closet, was currently rolling up his crisp sleeves. She could see edges of a few tattoos. She knew he and Steve had each gotten each others initials on their shoulder blades, adding the pups initials underneath them both. Apparently Billy was beginning to work on sleeves. “How was work?”

“Eh. Same old.” He shrugged, putting Mina down to go back to “playing” with Jonathan. He lifted Zara from Steve. “How are you doin’, Nancy? How’s the Big Apple?”

She waved a hand non-noncommittally. “Oh, it’s good. Jon’s working for some underground paper, shooting for punk shows.” Billy grinned.

“Well done, Byers. I’m sure your kid brother’s plenty jealous.” Jonathan laughed.

“He’s come up for a few of the shows he’s really wanted to see. Which is to say most of them.” The timer went off from the kitchen. Steve went to stand, only to have Billy push him back down, handing Zara back to him.

“Sit tight, Pretty Boy. I got it.” Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled softly at Billy all the same.

“He was a nightmare when we were moving in, wouldn’t let me lift anything over ten pounds.”

-

After dinner, Steve and Billy tag teamed putting the girls to bed.

It was kind of amazing to watch. Billy got Mina dressed for bed as Steve fed Zara, then they swapped, Steve made sure Mina brushed her teeth while Billy changed Zara, swapping again so that Billy could read a book to Mina and Steve rocked Zara to sleep.

They were so practiced and efficient, both girls were asleep with half an hour.

“You get a lot of practice with the bedtime thing. I mean, it’s every night.” They were sitting on the back porch, on patio furniture that had apparently been a gift from Claudia Henderson.

It was a perfect night, the Southern California air was just chilly enough to warrant a sweater, but perfect for just being in.

“There’s a park a few blocks that way that’s doing fireworks, we should be able to see them from here.” Steve had poured them each some champagne. Steve and Billy were sitting one the chairs across the little coffee table between them.

They chattered through as the clock ticked down, getting closer and closer to 1989.

Ten seconds to midnight, Billy helped Steve stand up. Five seconds to midnight, Jonathan was digging in his pocket.

The fireworks began as Steve pressed his lips to Billy’s. Nancy turned to do the same, choking on a gasp as she saw Jon down on one knee. Steve shrieked, scrambling for a camera.

“I wanted this to be the first thing I did this year.” Billy was grinning like an idiot, Steve was taking picture after picture, his big eyes full of tears. “I know you want to establish our lives before bonding or having pups, and that’s okay, we can just be engaged for a couple years, whatever you want.” Nancy had one hand in front of her mouth, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Whatdya say?”

“Oh my god, absolutely yes!” Billy and Steve cheered as Jon stood up, kissing Nancy before sliding the ring on her finger.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Back to you (Chapter V)

Summary:  Y/N Stark and Peter Parker are unconditionally and irrevocably in love with each other, being friends for years was just the step before making it official. BUT, just the weekend they did, Thanos and the snap happened, leaving Y/N broken: without friends, avengers family or Peter Parker. So, she has to move on, at least that’s what everyone’s telling her and she really tries to do it and who better to help her than Harry Osborn. But, has she really let Peter go? What if Tony Stark -genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist- knows how to bring Peter back? And what happens when he does? Is Y/N going to avenge again? Who’s going to lead the avengers now? Who is she going to choose? Harry or Peter? and who the hell is mysterio? *He doesn’t even go here

word count: 10.6k 

author’s note: I really loved how this chapter turned out, I had to go back to my dairy when I broke up with my ex to remember those really raw feelings that I had and place them in the story. I love Harley and Y/N relationship because it’s just banter and it lets our girl have a nice laugh before she has THE TALK with Peter. Next chapter it’s going to be so interesting because we can finally see the new dynamics between Y/N and her friends and dealing with Harry and being an Avenger or head Avenger I must say. As you know I love your feedback so please please let me know what you think, like and repost it and I receive any request! I’m already thinking about the next series, it’s going to be a continuation of this but based on my blurb Hey Hey you yeah I don’t like your (boy) girlfriend. 

Enjoy! Love -J. 

series masterlist

______

Proof that Tony Stark has a heart 

You’d read the inscription on that arch reactor a thousand times or even more through the years. It was always on your father’s lab and since Pepper had gifted to him, it became a relic in your household and a token that represented how your father had subsequently changed. He carried it to New York when you moved, it was saved when your house in Malibu was destroyed by the Mandarin, it eventually came to the cabin when Tony moved, with Morgan and Pepper, Upstate. 

So, it was beyond unbelievable for you to be carrying it over the flower arrangement that Pepper had ordered to let it float on the lake at your father’s funeral. 

Because although you knew that Tony wasn’t immortal, it was still implausible for you that he wouldn’t come home anymore. 

He wouldn’t see you graduate college; he wouldn’t officially pass his legacy to you as the head avenger, he wouldn’t walk you down the aisle if the time came. He wouldn’t see Morgan grow-up or grow old with Pepper as he had wished. 

It didn’t even seem real to you as you walked towards the dock, holding one of Morgan’s tiny hands while Pepper was carrying her, Happy and Rhodey close to you and the whole Avengers team walked behind as you did your best to keep it together. Your eyes trailed back to Morgan and by seeing her eyes sparkling with tears, your heart broke, she could already understand what was happening. 

As soon as you arrived at the cabin, she had been asking for Tony too. Pepper let you know that she had been waiting for you to tell her together. Honestly, the last couple of days had been a swirl. The last thing you remembered about the fight was Tony’s arch reactor turning off, after that, it was just uncontrollable sobs that left your lips and Peter’s hands holding you as tight as he could ever do. You thought that you had passed out after, your body had bare way too much than it probably could: From time traveling to Natasha dying, to be injured while facing Thanos and his army, to seeing your father dead. 

It was too much and for some reason, you thanked your brain for letting you rest. 

Still, the pain didn’t go away when you woke up. 

You were driven upstate by Steve and Rhodey who were waiting for you to wake up and were taking care of you along with Bruce. They had to help you get dressed and got you down to the car as if you were a child again and you thanked them for that. In all honesty, you were acting as best as you could but it seemed as if you were barely there. It could’ve been because of the PTSD or the shock. The only thing Steve and Rhodey got out of you were short answers, nods, and hums, not even Happy, who was already in the cabin, got more than a hello and a hug. It wasn’t because you wanted to be rude but because your mind was still trying to process all that you had been through in a couple of days and how you were trying to piece back together life. 

It was like the snap all over again, but now it was far more complicated. 

Dad died, Harry’s in L.A. probably with his father, the universe is back, I’m not longer avenging, I have to tell Morgan that our father died and Peter’s back, you repeated over and over again on your head. 

Not because you wanted to torture yourself but because you really wanted to know how to map out your next step. Tony’s words of not wasting your life, were in the back on your mind but along with them, those chocolate eyes with golden specks were also waiting for you to do something about them. 

Steve and Rhodey let you know that Peter had gone with you to Stark Tower, he refused to let you go until it was completely necessary. He had waited for you one whole day, still in his iron-spider suit, but as time passed and you didn’t wake up, Steve told him to go check on May and his friends. It had been an order, otherwise, he wouldn’t have left. He followed through but asked them to tell you that he would try to go Upstate as soon as he could, that he would be texting you. 

And he did, but you didn’t answer. 

After telling Morgan that Tony hadn’t made it, you didn’t even have the energy to see what he had said, so you simply turned it off as you tried to spend as much time with Morgan and Pepper, trying to somehow make sense of what had happened. 

It might have been a selfish move, it made you feel even worse that you were acting like a dick and you were not facing him. In the back on your mind, you were trying to think how on earth you were going to handle this, you hadn’t figure it out not even when you saw him at the funeral. 

You reached the water, carefully placing the flowers over it, and, as your heart clenched on your chest, you let it go. It didn’t actually dawn on you that you were crying until the tears were blurring your sight and Pepper helped you stand up as you held on to her and Morgan. 

As distraught as you were by looking at the art reactor floating away, you didn’t want to look back because you knew that everyone was watching you and there was no way you would let them see how weak you actually felt. Especially since Peter was standing next to Steve, crying as well and being held by Aunt May. 

It was silent for a few moments.

And as you watched the arch reactor disappearing into the water, you felt the unbearable weight on your shoulder that Tony had told you about many times that he felt. Now what? you thought to yourself. 

“I want Y/N”, Morgan mumbled as she pulled away from Pepper’s chest and moved her tiny hands towards you, signaling for you to grab her. 

Morgan was far more advance than Tony or even you were at her age, she was already talking coherent sentences while you had to turn two before you could do that. So, it wasn’t a surprise that she was way more perceptive and wanted to comfort you somehow and the hugs that she gave you, how she clung to your neck and nuzzle on your chest, it was as if everything was okay again. 

“Come on baby”, you answered back with the best smile you could possibly give her, and Pepper passed her to you, she kissed your forehead and turned around to face the rest of the people. 

“Thank you so much for coming and being here with me and my daughters”, Pepper announced, choking up a bit as she said the word daughters. “There’s food inside or you are free to leave, I know you are all busy people”

You could hear a few mumbling thank you’s or humming, you heard some steps following Pepper inside the house but others lingered around, still, no one dared to interrupt you or Morgan at the moment, and you felt thankful because it was indeed a hard time for both of you. 

But then someone touched your shoulder and a part of your mind prayed that it wasn’t Peter; it wasn’t.

 As soon as your eyes connected with those sterling blue eyes, you couldn’t help but smirk. 

Part of you really thought that Harley Keener would skip the funeral, you had sent the invitation yourself but it was still a longshot. 

Harley had been in your life since the Mandarin deal with Tony, Tony always used to go to Tennesse to visit him and he flew with you once. The first five minutes of meeting each other weren’t that nice, he was two years older than you and said he was smarter than you; at the end of the day, you managed to get along (not without a threat from Tony). And so, Harley Keener became your first crush, and apparently, it was beyond obvious that years later, both Harley and Tony gave you a hard time when he would come and visit from his little town or MIT. 

It was one of the losses you and Tony had to endure as well when the snap happened. 

“Surprised?”, the lanky boy with dark hair that one day used to be a light blonde asked. 

“I am, indeed”, you answered softly as you swing from side to side, trying to make Morgan a bit sleepy. 

“You really thought I wouldn’t come?”, Harley cried in an overdramatic way and you couldn’t help but smile a bit as he walked next to you to stare at the lake. “Hurts that you thought of me in that way.”

“I just… I understand that coming back isn’t easy”, you said, noticing Harley tensing to your words, his face deadpan and you could see his jaw clenching. 

It was unusual for Harley. Harley was playful, loved playing coy, flirty, snarky and witty comments here and there, plus a good touch of sarcasm. In all the years that you had come to know him, he was never tense, not even bother by anything. Hence, why you liked him so much at one point, you could be the opposite of super easy-going in moments like these.  

“Yeah, well…”, Harley sighed as his eyes focused on Morgan that was watching him apprehensively, he smirked in return and then gazed at you, something in his eyes gleaming. “She looks just like him”

It was true, Morgan was the spitting image of Tony with the soft features of Pepper. It was the complete opposite of you, you looked exactly like your birth mother but had inherited all the little gestures and behaviors that Tony had. If you were placed side by side, you would act like his clone. 

It pained you a bit when Harley denied saying his name out loud. 

“Morgan, you want to meet Uncle Harley?”, You whispered as she held tighter, a bit nervous but at the end of the day, she nodded. 

Morgan wasn’t really into a lot of people. She was a calm and observant baby, but mostly a bit shy at first, which was a surprise for Tony, although you had been the same. From the Avengers team only Rhodey, Nat, Steve, and Bruce managed to get to know her, but still, she remained quiet most of the time, especially when they came to plan the time-heist. And at the funeral she had only made eye contact with Happy or Rhodey out of all the guests, Steve a little but not too much. 

“Hey, Little Stark”, Harley beamed as he made a big gesture and offered Morgan his hand with a bow. 

In returned Morgan giggle on your chest, making you feel the vibrations of her laugh and she placed her tiny hand on Harley’s. It could’ve surprised you that Morgan had agreed to interact with Harley, but it really wasn’t. He was charming and everyone loved him, he had a way with people. 

“A pleasure.” He announced and he quickly placed a quick peck on her hand but Morgan reacted rather poorly. 

“Ew!” She shouted between chuckles as she shook off her hand from Harley’s and wipe it on her dress. 

You couldn’t help but to chuckle along at Harley’s chagrined expression, his eyes opened like plates and completely frozen where Morgan had let him. It might have been a first for him.  

“I didn’t see that coming, Little Stark”, Harley grumbled as he scrunched up his nose while watching Morgan with a half-smile. 

“First time you are rejected?”, you asked playfully. 

Harley rolled his eyes at you, “Maybe… but I could remember a time where you were dying for me to do that”, he answered.

The heat you felt on your cheeks gave you away, it had been years but the embarrassment didn’t go away completely. Now it had become a joke between you, to remember how dumbfounded you were with the blonde boy that came over sometimes to New York or that you went to visit as well. 

“Oh my god, please it was almost like ten years ago, get over it”, you scoffed and rolled your eyes as Morgan watched the conversation good-humoredly as if she understood better than you thought the comments threw to one another. 

“You get over me!”, Harley cried “You are jealous that you are not my favorite Stark anymore?”, he said as he winked at Morgan who replied with a giggle. 

For a lanky boy, Harley didn’t show his dorky side a lot. He always seemed so graceful with his movements, his touches, and gazes. As if they had been rehearsed to be eloquent and elegant. 

“I see that you are into younger girls,” you cooed as you watched Morgan with a smile and rubbed your nose against hers, “and a girl can share” and you winked. 

Harley chuckled as his eyes trailed back to the lake, he shook his head and bit his lower lip. Trying to find an answer to your comment, those were the times that you bonded the most when you could leave him without a proper answer. It felt good to remember past times when everything had been easy, it had been a hard month, to say the least, and the last time you had been this carefree was when you last saw Harry. 

“Just into Stark’s that are younger than me”, Harley replied, making you shake your head.

But then it hit you, the word younger echoed through your head like if someone had yelled something to a cave. 

“That was…”, you sighed as you placed Morgan on your other hip. “We are basically the same age now, you know?”

You saw how Harley looked a bit dazed, his eyes moving a bit too quickly as he stared into space, he stayed silent for a couple of moments; you could see him calculating his thoughts. 

“I… I can’t really process that”, Harley stammered as his frantic eyes finally connected with yours, his feet tapping the floor. “You were always like a little bean and now, you… are you 21?”

You shook your head a bit your inner cheek. 

“Almost…” you trailed off, staring at Harley as your mind tried to find a way to come back from that. “I know it’s hard, sorry for bringing it up”

“No, it’s okay” Harley insisted as he cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s not like we can be together. I saw your loverboy around here, somewhere”

You hummed as you felt your body tensing up, you winced at the memories of Peter and Harley together.

Peter and Harley, they had a difficult relationship. 

They had always been seen by Tony as his surrogate sons, he loved them both equally but god, the way they competed for Tony’s attention and yours too was unbearable. Not that Peter would ever be point-blank rude to Harley or that Harley actually wanted to make Peter feel bad (most of the time) but it was a tension that was always silently in the room when both of them came in and all of you knew it. 

For one part, Peter was clearly jealous of Harley when Tony would invite him to work on a project and make him fly from MIT to Stark Tower or the compound. Peter always had to share his lab with Harley, which was usually flowing with work on Spider-man related things or Peter’s own inventions but he had to move everything aside for him. It even annoyed Peter more when Tony said that Harley would have his own as soon as he graduated from MIT and come to work for Stark Industries. Peter felt like he was second to Harley most of the time because of the way that Harley and Tony went back, but he tried to brush it off most of the time in order for Tony not to notice although it didn’t work. 

Regarding you, it was even worst. Not that Peter felt any kind of property over you, he just felt insecure with Harley around. Each time Harley visited it occupied a lot of your time and you invited him everywhere. The Midtown gang adored Harley as well, so there was no way Peter could freely complain about the lanky smooth boy because MJ and Ned would always say that Harley was the best and that he was exaggerating. But it got worse, the flirty banter that you and Peter usually was overshadowed when Harley arrived because he was much more obvious with you and wasn’t afraid or embarrassed by it and neither were you, mostly because both of you knew that it was in a joking manner. But with Peter, it was stolen glances and touches, that was obvious but never spoken. 

Until Harley actually made you realized what was happening during Junior year. It made you feel so stupid and after that, you decided to have a talk with Peter about it although you weren’t together at the moment. It made the tension dissipate a bit but Harley still liked to rile Peter up and had a shit-eating-grin every time he would flirt with you while Peter was glaring at him. 

You didn’t even know what to say.

“What?” Harley asked as he placed his large hand on your shoulder and squeezed it a bit as he realized how you chewed the inside of your mouth. “What happened?”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes again as you sighed and closed them for a bit, you refused to cry anymore. 

“Peter snapped and I’m with someone,”, you blurted out, unsure on how to continue the conversation with Morgan on your hands but she was gazing at you closely. “Harry Osborn, we have been together for a year”

“What!?”

“Harry!”, Morgan exclaimed with a giggled. 

Morgan had seen Harry a couple of times and although they weren’t really close, he always knew how to made her laugh by the end of their time together. She remembered him of course and it brought back the memories of you playing with her after work or on the weekends that you decided to spend it with her. It had been really important for you that Morgan felt happy with Harry, she was basically the most important person in your life aside from Tony, Pepper, and Peter. 

Harley nodded, shifting his position as he raised and curved his brows. 

“Does lover-boy know?” Harley asked. 

It was like a punch in the gut because it was horrible that Peter wasn’t even aware of it, lips pressed firmly together as you shook your head. Harry saw how your features changed and he pulled you into a hug.

“It’s okay, I guess you haven’t had time”, Harry mumbled as you pressed your head against his chest. “But we can’t deny that you liked them smart, don’t you?”

A smile appeared on your face although you tried so hard not to smile because it wasn’t funny, it really wasn’t a good mess that you were in but the way Harley’s lips were curling up and Morgan was gleaming at you, you couldn’t help it. It had been a bit since you had laughed like this, a sparkle of something came out of you and you felt okay.  Holding Morgan on your hip with her cheeks tainted pink as she giggled while Harley’s eyes screwed shut while he laughed with both of you as he held you. It was like a song and you felt somehow normal, at least for a little bit, a calm washed over your chest as the sun came down. 

Peter liked that you were laughing as well. It wasn’t as if he was trying to be a creep, his senses were dialed by eleven and were the reason he could hear your laugh, at least that was what he wanted to say if for some reason someone asked him. He shook his head as he removed his sight from the window looking at the lake and tried to focus on how May was talking to Pepper while he was in the corner of the large cabin, trying to get away from anyone. These days people were asking Peter a lot of things: How are you? Did you snap too? Do you have PTSD? Where were you on that day? Are you okay with what happened with Tony? Do you want to talk? Where is Y/N?

 If we were being honest, he was asking the same questions as well. 

The trauma from the snap, it wasn’t easy. It was as if someone had broken him apart and then pieced him back together bit by bit until he was able to breathe again. It could’ve been two seconds on his mind, two seconds of nothingness. He remembered his breath starting to slow down as he clung to you, he remembered each final breath, how all the oxygen left his body and suddenly everything seemed to stop, all his organs stopped working, finally, his mind gave in with his last thought being you. 

And then he gave it air, life again.

He was alive and he didn’t know how to get out of those two terrifying seconds of nothingness, it was overwhelming until he had found you and those moments had been instantly forgotten. You were the air and the life he needed right at that moment, you were alive and well, beautiful as always and he had kissed you as if he was a man deprived of air because he really felt that way. 

For him, the kiss was like the kisses you had been giving him that same day at the MOMA and he had done it with the same desire.  He had rolled his lips against yours; he had felt you melting into him and whimper into his mouth because of the fervent nature of it and he loved it. But he couldn’t help to think that something was different. He couldn’t place why, the hunger for you didn’t stop, it was just different. 

And as he opened his eyes he realized why. 

Your usually long hair that had been a bit wild during High School was now shorter and with a straight cut, your features had somehow sharpened and they had become more defined, like your jaw or cheekbones, even your suit fitted better to your body and your eyes, those beautiful y/e/c eyes, that always shined each time he saw you had now a touch of ripeness and gloominess. 

How much can someone really change in a few years? he thought to himself as he saw Thor walking towards him. Maybe a lot. 

“How are you doing, little Spider-ling?”, Thor asked with his large voice that still somehow shook Peter to the core as he smiled ghostlily, he remembered that Thor had copied the nickname from Tony and it had stuck with him until this day. 

“Si- Sir” Peter stumbled as he straightened himself up. “I’m okay”, Peter muttered as Thor stood next to him, both of you watching the few people that still remained there talking softly with a heaviness in the air that Peter couldn’t stand. 

They remained silent for a few second and he felt how Thor’s gaze was burning him. 

“I know you are not”, Thor replied seriously as he crossed his arms over his chest, helped by his now larger gut. “It’s okay not to be if you need to talk to someone I'm right here. I’ve been through it, you know?”

Peter simply nodded and smiled at Thor for a second. Maybe he had really gone through it, Thor seemed different from the last time he had seen him and it had been a long time ago. Peter and Thor weren’t necessarily close, he had been for around for two months after Peter joined, then he had left to go deep into space. But the moments that they had to interact were filled with Thor’s long stories about his adventures and wars as you and Peter listened to him carefully, explaining Peter how those worlds worked and how he could travel through them, along with trips to Thor’s favorite ice cream shop. But what Peter loved the most was how you saw Thor as this big teddy bear and how couldn’t you see him that way? Thor had developed a soft spot for you honestly. Since Tony had introduced you to him, he was extremely protective of you, loved to spoil you and making you laugh. 

That laugh. 

He heard it again, Peter noticed that you were walking back into the cabin along with Harley and Morgan. His mind trailed off as his eyes followed you. 

Peter had been overthinking everything, all of his worlds with you for the last few days but his breath was still stolen every time he watched you, maybe you had changed but it was still you. 

But who was him for you? 

He didn’t know anymore and it scared him to the core to even ask or bother you. He saw you walking through the house with a long and simple long-sleeves black dress, giving everyone warm enough smiles to be polite but not enough that they thought that maybe they could ask you questions. Peter knew you care about every single person in the room but he recognized how tired you look and he could see right away the same look that Tony had when he confessed Peter after he had messed up the ferry when he was trying to get the Vulture, that if he died, he would feel that it was on him. 

He knew right away that you felt the same as Tony did. 

“You should talk with our little warrior”, Thor insisted as he caught Peter looking at you as you passed Morgan to Pepper and said hello to May in a polite manner. “You two have to catch up”

Peter felt a knot on his stomach as he saw you saying goodbye to everyone and began walking towards him. He was never hesitant about talking to you or seeing you, until now. Because by the way, you were watching him, with a slight frown and your eyes trying to avoid his, it wasn’t a good sign. 

But was it?

He didn’t know because he maybe didn’t really know you. He hated that so much time had passed for you, that he knew that neither couldn’t even be at ease around each other like how you used to. Peter understood both of you were hurting and Peter knew it might be for different reasons but he wanted to try to understand you as best as he could take into account that he missed so much the last few days. 

He was still eighteen and you were coming up twenty-one. 

Peter got that but he wished that it wouldn’t really change the love between both of you.

“Peter”, the way his name rolled out of your still gave him shivers. His face was pale as he watched you carefully without answering. His eyes too focused on your features and trying to decipher you while his gaze burned yours. 

“Spider-ling, she’s talk-”, Thor started but was quickly cut by you. 

“Uncle Thor, I’ll borrow Peter”, you interrupted, stiffly tossing a look at Thor who simply nodded and walked away with a pace that you hadn’t seen in a while, raising your eyebrows in surprise before you gazed back at Peter, who was still pale and dumbfounded, “Follow me.”

The statement had this lingered order and Peter knew better than to refuse, although every inch of his body was begging him to run the other way. While you were trying to stay calm but it was too hard, your body was locked up with each step that you gave towards the door, out of the house, and into the grass. You wanted to believe that Peter wasn’t noticing your body language or that maybe there was a way you had change enough for him not to know what you were thinking. But Peter knew everything, he was the only one that was aware of how you worked, he understood you better than anyone and all the years that he had passed getting to know you wouldn’t change even if he had missed a couple; but he tried to brush away how you were acting, assuring himself on those few moments that it would be okay. 

So, when you stopped in front of your car to finally face him and he walked a bit over to you, he knew nothing was okay as he noticed how you curled up when he was getting even closer. 

“What’s happening y/n?” Peter stated, maybe a bit too direct and with harshness in his voice. 

You shuddered and he detected how you winced before looking away from him. Peter never got really mad but today he was in his right to feel that way. It was unfair for you to disappear for a couple of days after he had been dead for a couple of years. 

You sighed as you passed a hand through your hair, your gaze falling into him again and making your stomach flip while you watch those honey specks on his chocolate eyes. 

“I understand you are mad; it just has been a lot”, you replied with a croak, still refusing to cry once again because you were so tired of feeling this way and you weren’t in a position to feel weak. 

Peter touched the base of his neck as he shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. Yes, it wasn’t fair what you had done but Peter couldn’t say he didn’t understand how you felt, Tony had just died and Natasha too. 

“I’m not mad, it’s just,” Peter started, taking a step away from you as he screwed his eyes shut for a second. “You don’t think that is too much for me too?”

He didn’t want to be selfish but you were supposed to be together, and if because of time you had decided not to be together he wouldn’t complain but you were supposed to be best friends and not even time could change that, at least that’s what he had hoped. 

But for you, it was as if he had punched you in the gut as you heard him. Peter realized that as soon as he saw the wrinkles on your forehead and the stone look in your eyes. 

“Please, you were gone for basically five minutes Peter”, you scoffed as you treated carefully towards him. “It has been two years since I had to mourn you and everyone else that died when Thanos snapped his fingers”, you explained, your eyes fixed on the boy. “And when we managed to fix it, my dad dies.”

“That’s right Y/N, I died. Did you ever think what was that for me?”, Peter replied with the same stone look on his face. 

“I did, I thought about it every day for the last two years and I’m sorry,”, you said a little bit louder than you meant. “I really wished that I could’ve taken your place but you didn’t go what I went through.” 

“And you don’t know what I went through either!” 

Peter usually didn’t yell or even got mad, if you reviewed your fights over the years they had been for small things that could be fixed in less than an hour, the only big fought you guys had was when he went for the Vulture alone and it was mostly because he kept it a secret. But this was something neither of you was expecting and you hated it, both of you were going through things and it wasn’t fair. 

But then again, when was life fair?

Peter sucked in a breath and he lowered his head. 

“I just thought that you wouldn’t disappear after,” Peter’s voice trailed off. “I just wanted to be with you after everything.” 

Peter’s voice was small and it broke your heart as you watched tears dangerously close to spill from his eyes. If you could do anything you would’ve just pull him in and kiss his tears away, if you could you would hold him and ask him to hold you as he had done so many times before this nightmare happened. Breaking his heart was everything you wanted to avoid but could you really avoid it? Your mind went from Peter and Harry every second that pass and the more you stare at him, you felt more and more claustrophobic. 

“Peter, it’s not that simple”

Peter raised his head, eyes red as he watched you carefully. Peter felt like if a crack began opening his heart and the two seconds of nothingness was coming back. 

“But it is Y/N, age doesn’t matter”, Peter insisted as he walked closer and his lips tight up for a second. “We can start training again, like partners, and the rest it’s not that hard if we are together.”

“Peter, I need you to list-”

“Y/N, anything else doesn’t matter because I know that you still have feelings for me, with that kiss even if two years have passed”

“Peter…”

“But that’s the thing Y/N, I kissed you,” Peter’s eyes looked so gloom and tired. While you just wanted to vomit because you were in no shape to have this conversation or a way to tell Peter that you were with someone that you cared about. “Come on Y/N, just…”

So, it just came out.

“I’m with someone”

The statement felt so final and you felt like you had just lost all the air in your lungs as you waited for Peter to say something, anything. Peter stayed silent for a few more seconds, something that felt like an eternity for you.

“What?”, he asked lowly. 

He wanted you to tell him it was a lie. He was begging for you to tell him it was a lie. He didn’t want to believe that this had happened while he was gone, he didn’t understand why it had happened. You and he were in love and now… now you had decided to leave him? The two seconds of nothingness came again, he felt as if a shadow was eating him alive. His eyes fixed on you and he noticed how your chin was trembling. It was hurting you too. 

“It was almost a year after it happened. I met someone and…”, you didn’t really know what to say and you stumbled with your words. 

Peter’s eyes narrowed and if it was up to you, you would just have flown away. Because it wasn’t fair and it felt as if you were killing whatever bond Peter and you had. 

“Who is he?”, Peter asked, tears falling from his eyes as you tried to avoid his gaze. 

“Harry Osborn”

His face was still and you couldn’t see any emotion on the boy. He was stunned and tears began appearing from your face, one by one they fell from your eyes. He wasn’t saying anything and it drove you insane, it felt as if your skin was being pinned by a thousand needles. If there was any chance to save Peter all the pain and put it into you, you were sure you would have done it, but this was your doing and you had to be honest. 

“Peter, I was mourning you and I just…”, you bit your lip and tried to avoid the rest of the tears to follow like a stream as you looked up into the sky. “There was no way we thought we could get you back sooner because we didn’t know if it was even possible”

“So, you moved on?”, Peter retorted and you gave a step towards him.

“No!”, you yelled, trying to keep your own voice from breaking. 

It was such a delicate statement to make and the way you reacted; it was as if you were offended that he would phantom that one day you would forget him. Peter never left your mind not even for a day and so it was clearly more complicated than anything you had wondered. Because you did love Peter, but now you cared about Harry much more than you thought you would.

“Then why are you with him?”, Peter asked while he stared at you, frowning. 

“Because I care about him, Peter! He’s been there for me and he helped me,” you explained coldly as you lowered your eyes towards him. “You didn’t understand how messed up I was after you died in my arms”

Peter stayed silent for a few second and honestly, he didn’t know what to actually feel. So many years ago, Peter could recall the time when he had wondered if there was any chance that you would break his heart. He thought it the second he met you, the moment when he realized you had become best friends, the moment he had fallen in love with you. He had let the idea drown in his favorite memories of you, he was sure both of you were meant to be, especially when you had come to confess your feelings for each other after he had finally kissed you after Scorpion’s attack. 

“Do you love him?” 

The statement felt so final and you tried not to look phased by his words and you stayed silent because you didn’t want to answer, you didn’t even know the answer yourself. What was love but what Peter had shown you for so many years? But then how could you discredit what you had come to feel for Harry?

Peter rolled his eyes and he shook his head as he gave a step forward to you. Being closer than what you had been on that day and although he wanted nothing more than to cry to you right there and then, beg you to hold him and not to leave him; his heart was also being filling with the horrible thought of anger towards you. 

“Do you love me?”, his voice gravelly as he asked, red-eyed and with a stoned face. You connected your eyes with his and stayed silent because you felt it was unfair to actually say yes, but then telling him that you just couldn’t break up with Harry, but it just served to annoy Peter even more. “Can’t you at least answer me that?”

“It’s not that-”, you said. 

“-It really is,”, he stated.

“-simple”, you finished. 

Both of you were breathing the same air, the awkwardly silent was filling the air along with pain. This was just painful, both of you were crying and your bodies were aching to hold each other. If there was nothing stopping either of you, you would’ve laid down on your bed for days and just talk and kiss the pain away. Be there for each other as you had been for so many years. 

But this was the reality you were in and you had to face that it wouldn’t be possible. 

“You really forgot about me?” Peter asked as he looked down, his voice was so soft and small. 

He looked so fragile and the statement settled heavily on your chest because there was nothing farther than the truth, and you almost felt like you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him because it was a concept that didn’t exist for you. 

You shook your head. “I never did Peter, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about you”, you answered as honestly as you could, it was almost like a whisper.

Peter’s eyes connected with yours again and you saw how hesitant he was to ask anything else; you looked down and it was almost an impulse as you reached out to grasp his hands but he gave a step back. You looked up almost as in shock as if he had just punch you in the gut. Right there and then you saw something in Peter than you hadn’t even thought it was possible, something you had experienced only in nightmares: a gleam of resentment. 

“When were you going to tell me?”, he asked. 

“Soon”, you whispered, closing your eyes as guilt crawled into your heart. 

“But you decided to leave me hanging?”

You understood where this was coming from, and it was started to settle on your mind that you had caused him more pain than what he felt when he turned into ashes. It was your fault if he hated you, it was your doing and you had to live with that forever. Like the fact that you could’ve maybe done more to avoid Tony dying. 

“My dad just died Peter”, you answer coldly. 

Peter clenched his jaw as soon as he heard you, he threw you a side-glanced. He felt even more offended with the statement and he gave another step back, like if you had burned him. Because Peter now not only had to deal with his heart being broken by you, he didn’t have to deal only with losing you but also, he had to deal with Tony dying. He had managed to conceal the death of Tony, managed to distract himself enough, being too busy thinking about you to even mourn Tony as he had wished. 

“He was like my father too Y/N!”, he spat as he glared at you, you closed your eyes in response and tried to hold back any tears left. Peter saw you and he shook his head as he placed the back of his hands on his eyes, trying to wipe the tears. “I- I have to leave”, he stuttered. 

“Peter, we haven’t finished”

“I have”, he stated.

Peter didn’t talk to May all the way home, not a single word and he didn’t intend to as they got home in Queens. His brain was too busy rewinding you, in the black long-sleeved dress telling him that you were with someone new and the more he thought about it, the more the pain in his chest settled. He had never wonder how would it feel to have his heart broken by you, maybe the possibility but not the feeling, but now that he was feeling it, it was as if he was dying all over again. 

When Peter and May got to the apartment, he just gave her a bullshit excuse that he would patrol. He couldn’t even remember what he had said when May allowed it, although she knew it was a bullshit excuse. And as he was putting on his first suit, he realized as he saw himself in front of the small mirror in his room that he had been crying all the way home. He watched himself, red-eyed, and his lips tightly pressed together as he remembered your words but he shook his head as if he thought it would help him to forget. 

He quickly placed his mask on and he only gave four paces before he was out through the window. He didn’t exactly know where he was going, usually, his patrolling nights were spent with you or if he ever felt the need to, he would twhip! his way to Stark Tower where you would leave a window open for him to sneak in and climbed on your bed. 

He thought about you, your soft hair, your smile, those y/e/c eyes that made his heart stop, the way you would have his back in a fight, the soft hugs you gave him, and your laugh and that were his before today. But now they weren’t his and there was nothing he could do about it because you had decided to let him go. 

Peter wondered if there was any space in his head for hatred to you, but the more he thought about it there was just pain and anger when he thought of you and the events of the past week in his head, but no hatred. He thought about what Tony would’ve said to him and another wave of pain just washed over him because he realized that Tony wouldn’t be there anymore. Tears stung his eyes as he shot a web to another building, swinging slowly because honestly, he did not have so much energy. 

Part of him was somehow begging that there would be a crime so he could unleash his pain on something or someone, but as he watched carefully the streets of New York, not many people were out. He thought that even the bad guys were reuniting with the ones they loved but not him. Maybe, it was better that there wasn’t anyone on the streets because he didn’t know what he would do.  

The two seconds of nothingness was trapping him and there was no escaping it. 

For your part, the tears came down as a river as Peter walked away from you. You didn’t stop crying or thinking about everything that was happening as you drove to New York. Tony, Nat, and Peter flooded your head and you almost felt claustrophobic on your own mind. Even in your own heart as the guilt tugged your chest and questions reminded on your mind, like why didn’t I wait? Could I have saved them? Could I have done more for them? Is he ever going to forgive me?

When you got to Stark Tower, it felt cold. There was no one there, at least that was the instruction given from Pepper to the staff. The last few nights the lights on the tower had been turned off to honor Tony and his sacrifice. The only people that had been allowed were yourself and the few Avengers that had been allowed to enter to take care of you or any other injury they might’ve had. 

So, to say the least, it was a surprise when the elevator doors opened to the penthouse and you saw him. 

“Harry, how?”, you stuttered. 

But he didn’t say anything. 

His body just crashed against yours, he wrapped his arms around your body and lifted you, he held you so tight that you were sure you were having trouble breathing. He held you for so long that your body began buzzing because of the lack of movement and you shrugged a bit as a signal for him to let you down, he got it and let you fall delicately on the floor. You knew that if he held you for longer, you might want to start crying again and you refused to do it. 

Part of you felt so bad that you hadn’t been in contact with him for the last few days as you finally were able to see him, it wasn’t pretty. 

His usually sleek black hair was messy and all over the place, his usually well-kept facial hair was a little bit more than you expected and his dark eyes were accompanied by those dark circles that only appeared when he was really tired. His cheekbones and sleek jaw that made your heart skip a beat were okay, but it was a bit puffy as if he had been crying. Your usually put together boyfriend had been through it and you pouted as you saw him, feeling bad that he had been feeling like this without much company.

“I’m so sorry Y/N” “I can’t believe I missed the funeral but my dad-”, Harry started, with a taut feeling along with it, but you quickly cut him off.

Now you knew why he was like this.

“How’s your dad with everything?”

It was a polite question to ask, but you knew the answer to it because Harry had told you enough of his relationship with his dad to know that it was no good. As you knew from what Tony had told you and what Harry had said as well, Norman Osborn wasn’t the kindness person in the world, when Harry was smaller he barely saw him and since his mom had passed away when he was six-years-old; Harry was delegated to a bunch on nannies that would play the role of his father. As Harry grew, he believed that if he showed his that how good in bioengineering, he was, probably he could strengthen their connection but the more time Harry had spent with his dad, the more Norman put him down. 

Harry hadn’t the sickly ambition of his father, neither he liked to make people miserable or himself miserable, and even more important to you: Harry understood that he was privileged, not only with his money but with his brain. He liked to do something good with what he had, and he had managed to do so in the time after Thanos had snapped. But now that Norman was back, you didn’t want to imagine what he had said to Harry about his direction as head of Oscorp Industries. 

“You really want to be talking about my dad?”, Harry asked a bit stunned as he watched your features carefully. 

You nodded in response as you took off your coat and shoes while you tie your hair into a ponytail, Harry following you as you reached the kitchen. 

“Honestly, I just need to talk about anything that’s not Avengers or my dad or …”, you trailed off. 

…Spider-man

“It’s okay. I get it”, Harry agreed and leaned down in the counter as he watched you carefully as you reached for some tea baggies, thinking it could come you down. He watched you carefully and it was obvious how worn-out you were, along with the injuries that you had sustained like the cut on your brow. “Let me make you something while we talked”

Your gazes locked and you knew it was his best intention at heart, both of you seemed so tired with everything that you thought it might be for the best, so you agreed. 

Harry did an amazing dinner with wine included and you felt so thankful that he had traveled all the way from Silicon Valley to New York for you. Norman Osborn had been clearly upset when he told him he was going to see you and you couldn’t help to wonder how he really felt when he found his father in his office as he entered it after a meeting with another non-profit. Harry said that he was glad that Norman was back, that it was a way to really be a good son and that he was thankful to you and the avengers for the opportunity, but you could tell by his dark eyes that he wasn’t being honest. And although Harry assured you that his father wasn’t too bad, you had already got to the conclusion that Norman Osborn was a dick and that nothing that Harry lied about now that he was back, was going to change your mind. 

The dinner went along without much trouble, part of you was grateful that Harry had respected your space and didn’t ask too many questions regarding how you had reversed the snap or how you got those scars or how Tony had died or why were you a little but off. He just talked or remained silent or answer your questions, it calmed you down for a bit and you were glad that he was back. 

Still, you couldn’t help to think about your last conversation with Peter. 

It pained you to remember Peter’s face, your chest felt like it was going to explode the more you thought about the last moments with him. The way he had looked at you, he had never looked at you in that way, you two had never fought like this before and it scared you. Because although you had lost Peter before this was a whole different reason on why you were losing him, this was on you. There had come a time when you had been denying that you were completely head over heels for Peter that you thought that it could ruin your friendship and that you wouldn’t have Peter on your mind anymore. The thought of it terrified you, which only served to put in the back burner your feelings for a bit longer. Now, you regretted it but this was it, this was the same feeling. But now it was worst as you thought about what Tony or Nat would’ve said to you and it burned your eyes and chest to even begin thinking about them or the whole thing. 

And so, when Harry fell asleep on the couch as you watched a stupid movie that he had decided on, that you didn’t even pay attention to because you were rewinding the moment you told Peter the truth; you decided to do something that you hadn’t done in a long time. 

Maybe it was because you had just been tinkering in labs for a month and got back in the grind while you helped build the time machine. Maybe it was because it remained you of your dad and how he had gifted you your first lab and all the memories you had there with him. Maybe it was because it remained you of Peter and how you tinkered and planned every new piece of gadget you developed well into the night. 

But you enter your smaller lab at Stark Industries after years of not going down there. 

You leaned against the glass wall and you stared at the small lab for a moment. At its prime, before the compound, the lab was bright, full with objects that were whirring and flashing, your suits were kept in their own stages and it would’ve been full of holograms while J.A.R.V.I.S first and then H.A.P.P.Y showed you the calculations you needed or the programs that you were working on. 

Now it was all dusty and seemed so lonely. You turned around to see the other labs that surrounded it. Clearly, the larger was Tony’s and you could still see some prototypes of the Iron suit there but you decided not to look at it so much. The other one, it was neater than any other because it was Peter’s, Pepper had told you after the snap that Tony had decided to clean it because Peter had left his plans and prototypes of different projects everywhere and it was a bit too painful to Tony to actually see it. He didn’t throw away anything, he just tidied it up for his own mental health, he couldn’t live with expecting to see Peter there each time he was down there. The other one was still in construction and by the looks of it, it had been left in construction. It was Harley’s and you knew it had stopped since he had been snapped as well. 

Although now, you thought, it was time to finish it. 

“H.A.P.P.Y”, you stated as you walked through your lab and realized the great majority of the equipment needed an update. 

Nonetheless, it felt like you could breathe again. It was your place with your father’s and Peter’s,  and although neither of them was there, you thought you could feel their presence. 

“Mrs. Stark, a pleasure to see you here again”, H.A.P.P.Y stated and you smirked as you clapped your hands and the lights on the room turned on along with Twist and Shout from The Beatles. 

“We need to do some work here buddy”, you said as you swayed your hips side to side while watching the holograms appear in front of your desk and you watched it carefully. “Please, can you take all the information on the lab from the compound and install it here?”

“Sure thing Mrs. Stark”, your AI answer back. “It’ll take a few minutes”.

You nodded and saw carefully how H.A.P.P.Y was recalibrating and updating everything. Even your past suits light up for a moment and you walked towards them. A knot formed on your throat and you wanted to cry, it had been so long since you had been there and the memories flashed on your mind: Tony and you building your suit, trying it for the first time with the help of Bruce and Tony, late night with Peter trying to redesign some stuff, Tony giving Peter his lab. 

Ring!

The sound of your phone made you come back to reality and you took it from your desk. You thought it might have been Pepper or maybe even Harry, who hadn’t been allowed to any other part of the building that wasn’t the penthouse; you thought he might have gotten worried to not see you if he had woken up. But as you watched the unknown number, it made you shiver. 

“Stark?” Stephen Strange’s voice startled you.

Hours prior to the call, he had shaken your hand and told you how sorry he was about the death of Tony; the only answer you had given him was a nod and a tight smile. Somehow the fact that he had the exclusive knowledge that your father was going to die, felt like a sick joke to you. The fact that he had allowed it and not prepare you somehow, made your blood boil. 

You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath before answering.

“What do you want?”, you sneered as you opened your eyes again.

Maybe he hadn’t got it, the fact that you didn’t like him and in the back of your mind, you thought about the fight on Titan, when Thanos snapped half of humanity away and how he hadn’t allowed you to stop him. 

Stephen breathed out as if he was annoyed at your attitude but he disregarded and continue. “Where are you?”, he asked. 

“Stark Tower”, you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

Suddenly, those same portals that had appeared on your last two battles appeared in the middle of the hallway between the other labs. The same golden light blinded you as Dr. Stephen walked through it. He wasn’t in his usual outfit, or at least the only outfit that you had seen him in but in a darker tunic. The Eye of Agamotto no longer around his neck, since the time stone had been destroyed by Thanos and you didn’t even want to think of the ramifications of that.

“What are you doing here Strange?”, you asked as he entered your lab as if he had invited himself in. 

He watched your lab carefully, millions of holograms processing a whole lot of information and he seemed surprised to even see you there. But soon his green light eyes connected with yours, you were glaring at him.

“I’m here to talk about-”, he stated but you quickly interrupted him. 

“-don’t say his name”

“-Tony”, he finished. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked towards him and sat on your chair while you began typing some codes for H.A.P.P.Y to take them into account. 

“You know, I would’ve loved if you told me that my father was going to die either way”, you grumbled.

Maybe it was petty and you knew it wasn’t necessary but the only person you had been angry at since what happened had been yourself and today, it was the day when you apparently decided to let everything out. 

Strange somehow understood. 

“It was the only option we had, the only option the universe had”, he replied with a stentorian tone that made grinned your teeth as you kept typing. 

“Yeah, I get it”, you noted, “Said the same thing to your boss when we got back in time”

Stephen walked towards the front of your desk and you didn’t even look up, you were tired and he didn’t need to show up, especially today. 

“I know”, he replied.

Making you raise your head at stare at him quietly. 

“You didn’t answer my question, what are you doing here Strange?”, you insisted. “I don’t know if it wasn’t obvious enough but I don’t want you here”

You stood up from the desk and walked towards the platform that was used to suit you up or take scans of your body, it had to be updated. 

“I know you might be mad at me, but I need to give you something”, Stephen said as his eyes followed you, but you paid him little attention. 

“Oh, the knife that you used to stab me in the back?”, you shrugged as H.A.P.P.Y. scanned you. 

“You are so dramatic”, he responded and you swore you felt how he rolled his eyes without even looking at him. 

“You should see my dad, he’s much more dramatic”, you answer as you look back at him. “Oh, wait he’s dead”

“That’s not a good joke”, he said giving you a stern look. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be”, you retorted as you walked towards him, down from the platform. 

He gave you a sideways glance and shook his head. You could see how he squirmed a bit and you notice that he did mind those kinds of statements, were you detecting some kind of remorse? And so, you decided to stop the banter, maybe he really needed you for something and now, it was your responsibility. 

Stephen gave you a pointed look as you stood in front of him, his eyes gleaming something but his features still stone cold. “Tony left this at the sanctuary, the hologram it came with told us to give it to you in case he didn’t make it”, he finally said as he took out of his pocket something and placed it on your hand.

It was a small USB and it seemed even more intricate than a normal one. It was branded as Stark Industries and you felt your breathing getting a bit shaky as you stared at it. Tony had left it for you, only you and in all honesty, it took you by surprise. Tony had only left the hologram for Morgan and you, along with a letter to Pepper that was only directed to her. There wasn’t really a message for you and you had assumed it was because he thought he would make it or not by your side.  

“Okay…”, were the only thing you could mumble as you watched it carefully. 

Stephen's eyes were burning you and it was almost as if he felt sorry for you but as your eyes connected with his, you walked away towards your desk once more. 

“He said you would know how to decipher it”, he informed you. 

“Okay…”, you answer again not even looking at him

“I’ll leave now”, Stephen stated as he watched you carefully while he passed by you, but you were startled as he placed a hand on your shoulder and it made you look up. “You know, if you ever need my help with anything and whenever you want, I’m at your service Stark,” he said with a sadness lingered on his voice, “Just like your father was for the universe”

The way he was looking at you, it seemed so real. Stephen hadn’t known your dad for any time, he hardly knew him or you. Your team had just winded together because of the circumstances with Thanos and at first, it hadn’t been pretty. But the more you thought about how Tony had listened to him when the time came, it came with a trust that Tony had only given to such a small amount of people that it actually surprised you. Maybe Stephen felt compelled to be there for you because of Tony’s death and he really did felt sorry. 

So, you simply nodded and gave him a tight smile as he did the exact same thing back to you. You waited as he opened another portal and left you alone.

You stared at the USB and tried to remember anything that your father might’ve told you before, but nothing was coming up. 

“H.A.P.P.Y, we have something to figure out”

____________

TAG LIST: @erindanus​ @spideylovin​ @zlamaneserca​ @bethanystan​ @cedricisnotonfire​ @eridanuswave​ @lyzalovealk​

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “A.N.N.I.E.”

A.N.N.I.E. (Artificial Non-Neurological Intelligent Entity) is an outdated android model that emerged on the market two years ago. The Joker purchased her as a toy for his son not knowing she will become the recipient of desperate attempts to keep Y/N with him. After the woman’s unexpected death, experiments meant to transfer her conscience inside Annie failed yet The King of Gotham couldn’t part with the only thing that reminded him of someone he actually cared about.

“Can you fix her?” The Joker asks the two programmers that have been assessing the android for the past 15 minutes.

“Hard to tell sir, but we are trying to determine what triggered the malfunction,” Zariah points at the 4 laptop screens simultaneously running diagnostics. “Recently there’s been a spike in flaws regarding A.N.N.I.E. models; after all they were released 2 years ago. I would recommend acquiring the most current technology…”

“No need to!” J bitterly cuts him off. “Just fix her!”

“We will do our best, sir!” Mickel reassures The King of Gotham: his wretched temper might interfere with today’s agenda and the two hackers simply can’t afford it.  

“Your best is not enough,” The Joker growls. “She cornered my son last night and almost crushed him against the wall. I had to use manual override to shut her down. That’s not typical machine behavior, is it?!”

“No sir, although I’ve heard of similar incidents in the past months. If it continues, Annie prototype will be pulled off the market soon,” Zariah informs.

“Her name‘s not Annie,” The Clown Prince of Crime interrupts the unwanted advice. “Her name’s Y/N!”

Awkward silence and Kase’s voice resonates from upstairs.

“Daddy?... Daddy?...”

“My son’s awake; I’ll be back,” J abandons the two men in a hurry and stumbles on the numerous cables connecting the laptops to the cyborg on his way out.

“Goddammit!”, he huffs through his clenched teeth before vanishing around the corner.

“That was fucking weird,” Mickel whispers. “What does he means her name is not A.N.N.I.E.?! Am I crazy? Is this not Artificial Non-Neurological Intelligent Entity sitting in that chair?!”

“Of course it is,” Zariah confesses in low tone. “He gives me the creeps too how he thinks she’s in there.”

“What do you mean “she”?” the obvious question follows.

“Check those cords,” Zariah urges and continues: “You noticed he corrected me with the name for the pile of rubbish.”

“Yeah,” the other guy begins typing a bunch of configurations while listening to the scoop.

“Y/N used to take care of his kid. Nobody can say who she really was: some believe she might have even been the mother, that her and Mister Joker were together. Others swear the little boy called her auntie; maybe she actually was Mister J’s sibling. Who the hell knows? She was a strange woman and she looked… different also,” Zariah’s gaze circles the premises to make sure their employer is not eavesdropping.

“No shit!” Mickel frowns at the statistics popping up on the monitors.

“Yeah, I saw her a few times, gave me the creeps. Something was off with her, you just could tell. Mister J always had jerks working for him and I guess they clashed with Y/N quite often: it got so bad they dared planning a prank that ended horribly. Do you know the warehouse on 14th street? The 6 stories one?”

“No.”

“Well, supposedly it happened there: Mister J was out of town and had no clue about the scheme plotted without his consent. The crew took his son on the roof and threatened they will toss him off the building if she doesn’t jump instead.”

“And?!” Mickel halts his typing, intrigued.

“She jumped… … they didn’t think she would.”

“Holy crap! I had no idea!”

“Dude, it was a disaster!” Zariah shrugs depicting the facts. “Y/N splattered all over the concrete, broken to pieces… Despite the severe injuries, she didn’t die immediately: she was in a coma for almost a month before passing away. Mister J had Annie already, he probably bought her as a toy for Kase when it first emerged on the market. The rumor is that while Y/N was in a coma he kidnapped scientists and forced them to work on a senseless project: transferring her conscience inside Annie.”

“You’re shitting me!” Mickel exclaims at the insane disclosure.

“Nope.”

“Can’t be done; it’s impossible!”

“And who’d dare explain the obvious to him, huh? Not the researchers he killed the moment she stopped breathing if you get my drift.”

“That’s messed up!” Mickel forcefully exhales, infinitely more nervous about being at The Penthouse for the moment.

“Do you remember the serial murders that shook Gotham 3 months ago?” Zariah has more gossip for his partner. “It was Mister J hunting down every single person that was on the roof the day Y/N jumped.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” the anxious Mickel shrugs. “Maybe we should abandon our mission.”

“Bulshit! They’ll pay us double over anything he offers so don’t be a pussy! Speaking of, you should assemble the guns prior to his return!”

Mickel is reluctant to the whole scenario, yet he compiles the two guns out of items resembling computer parts scattered in their suitcases: that’s how they were able to deceive security.

“Done,” he stashes one finished weapon under his jacket, offering the other to Zariah.

“Remain calm and we’ll be ok,” the latest mumbles. “Let’s pretend we’re here to repair this junk.”

A couple more minutes pass by and The Joker’s presence alongside his offspring makes the two guys cringe.

The little boy hides behind his father’s legs, shyly glancing the android’s way.

“Don’t be scared,” J grumbles. “She’s in power saving mode, it’s fine.”

“Yes, it’s perfectly safe,” Zariah winks. “We are almost done extracting all the data,” he gestures at the laptop’s screens.

Kase giggles and rushes to climb on Annie’s knees, excited to see her after she wasn’t allowed to sleep in his room last night which is understandable since the robot went bonkers.

“Hi Y/N,” the child softly pulls on her long hair. “I want waffles pwease.”

The hackers exchange meaningful glares and The Joker replies:

“She can’t for now,” he mutters. “She’s defective. Frost will take you out for breakfast, alright?”

“Does it hurt?” the 5 year old pouts at his parent’s affirmation: he doesn’t comprehend all the words and it’s difficult for a kid to process the concept of transference.

After Y/N died, The Joker told Kase she moved inside Annie: he wasn’t delusional about his failed experiment but it was easier to make his son cope with the loss of the woman that raised him. J doesn’t literally believe there’s any trace of Y/N in the machine: how could it be? Several months passed and nothing proved what he tried to accomplish succeeded: a twisted concept originating from a distorted mind was doomed from the start.

“It doesn’t hurt,” The Clown Prince of Crime sighs. “She’s resting.”

“Sir, I think you should see this,” Mickel gets his attention.

“What am I looking at?”

“You used voice command to lock down the android?” Zariah pinpoints at the monitor to his left.

“I did.”

“That’s not what turned off the system: see the numbers flowing borderline with the  central matrix, the tiny squares? She wasn’t locked down by external command, she was terminated from within.”

“What do you mean?!” Mickel scoots over in his rolling chair, baffled.

“Somebody trespassed the firewall,” his accomplice utters the obvious.

J is less than happy with the random discovery still he requires confirmation of his suspicion.

“Meaning?”

“Annie, I mean Y/N is the recipient of a cyber-attack: she’s been hacked.”

“Hacked?” J scoffs. “What for? She’s just a companion android, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not sure, sir…” Zariah lifts his shoulders up, baffled.

“Can you find the source?” the green haired individual suggests.

“Analyzing the algorithm shows puzzling results: these numbers should be repeating themselves every so often, yet they don’t; never seen anything like it and I’ve been dealing with computers for a long time,” Mickel adds. “The most interesting detail is certainly challenging our expertise: tracking the root of the signal is pretty much unachievable. We should see input bouncing around from different servers because this is how hackers disguise their trail; but… this particular livestream happened simultaneously from various servers around the country.”

“There’s practically 0% chance for such abnormal hacking with today’s technology!” Zariah scrunches up his face at the baffling discovery. “How in the world was it done?!”

“You’re the experts!” The Joker barks. “I hired you based on strong recommendations from others that used your skills. Can you fix her or not?!”

“Of course, sir.”

“Yes!” the two associates ease The Clown’s doubt. “We’ll unplug the cables, we already removed all necessary info.”

Kase watches them detach the cords from Annie’s access ports, the child sulking at their action.

“Y/N, does it hurt?” he asks and hops off her lap. The empty shell doesn’t respond since the robot is in power saving mode.

“It doesn’t hurt,” The King of Gotham duplicates his earlier statement. “Frost!” he addresses the henchman entering the living room. “Take him to our restaurant on Madison Avenue for breakfast then he can play at the property on Foster Creek until we are done here. I want a 3 cars escort.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll call in advance and tell them not to open the place until we’re done.”

“Good,” J agrees with his henchman’s proposal. “Kase, go and eat!” he urges the offspring having a few more secrets to share with Annie. “Come on, let’s go!” the impatient father encourages.

The 5 year old obeys and kisses Annie’s cheek, whispering:

“I’ll bwing you beck’fast auntie, ok?” and he rushes at Frost’s side screaming up a storm. “Byeeeee daaaaaddy!!!”

The programmers are so absorbed by the mystifying enigma they stumbled upon by accident they don’t pay attention to the little nugget’s promise: even if they would, Zariah and Mickel wouldn’t be able to untangle the convoluted riddle of Y/N’s true identity.

She wasn’t The Joker’s girlfriend nor Kase’s mother: Y/N was nothing less than The Clown’s younger sister.

The woman protected the only family she had like a hawk, thus she didn’t hesitate to give her life in exchange for her nephew’s.

Too bad she had no idea those jerks were mocking her when she ended up on that accursed roof.  

Too bad her brother didn’t guess their intentions and extremely regrettable he was left alone without the only person he ever trusted.

Too bad she died granted J’s desperate efforts to keep her with him.

And so sad he didn’t know how much Y/N meant to him until she was gone.

“Isn’t it weird someone breached my android in the same time it was malfunctioning and closed her down?…” J stares outdoors on the terrace. “Why would anyone go through the trouble?... What’s the purpose?”

The familiar click of safety being taken off a gun awakens The Joker from apathy and he turns around: it’s not easy to surprise J but he’s stunned to notice the two experts he recruited pointing guns at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Cashing in a huge payday, sir,” Zariah sneers. “It’s not often you become a legend for murdering…”

The Joker is not listening, his attention diverted by the strange phenomenon occurring behind the two hackers threatening his life: Annie is standing up from her chair and that’s clearly not possible; she is in power saving mode!

The android grabs Mickel’s arm and twists it to 90 degrees, using his own pistol to blow his brains out. Before Zariah can react he’s knocked to the ground with such violence J starts backing out, unsure on what to do when Annie steps on the man’s neck.

The sound of fractured bone plus the cyborg’s attention clearly directed towards him now makes him shout:

“Code 71345, emergency override!”

“Access denied!” the robot approaches still calibrating its joints and electronic synapses.

What the hell is wrong with this thing?!

“Code 71345, emergency override!”

”Access denied!”

J wants to make a run for it but he’s aware Annie is faster; why is she glitching like this?! 

“Code 71…”

“Why are you trying to shut me down when I tried so hard to come back to you?” the cold voice halts the rest of his sentence.

The Joker takes a strenuous breath, dumbfounded at the shocking revelation:

“Y/N?... … Is… is… that you?!... …”

The android tilts its head to the left while an eerie smile flourishes on the plastic lips:

“Missed me?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST 

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[cupcakezys]

Geraskier, Kissing Prompt #5😉

@aeonthedimensionalgirl thank you for this! Sorry it took me a bit, life hasn't really given me a lot of opportunity to write. :( But this was super fun! I loved the prompt (angry kisses yessss) and I thought it was a great way to write my first Witcher fic. I hope you enjoy!

From this ask game.

It’s also on AO3 if you prefer to read there. :)

5 - Angry Kiss.

Jaskier wasn’t sure what beast it was Geralt had been sentto face this time. He’d been passing through a random, tiny village on his way northwhen he heard someone whisper about the White Wolf. He’d immediately stoppedand turned, interest peaked. He hadn’t seen Geralt for some months now, and hewould have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t curious as to what his old friendhad been up to.

He hadn’t been surprised when the villagers had told him Geralthad agreed to help them get rid of a monster that had been attacking them.

He’d been getting details, trying to figure out where Geralthad gone, when an old man had interrupted them.

“It doesn’t matter where he went bard.” He had said. “He’sdead, same as all the others that have gone after the beast.”

Jaskier had scoffed. They didn’t know his Geralt. He was awitcher, after all, and defeating monsters was kind of his whole thing. He wasfine.

Then the old man had chuckled. “He’s been ripped to piecesbard, just like the last three witchers we sent after it.”

Jaskier had tensed, the edge of worry biting at his heart. Hehadn’t known they’d hired other witchers before. That those witchers hadfailed.

“You’re just going to get yourself killed alongside himbard.” The old man warned, even as he pointed Jaskier in the right direction.

Jaskier had ignored him. He didn’t know Geralt. He wasstronger than anyone Jaskier had ever met, and he couldn’t imagine anythingtaking him down.

Not that that had stopped him from rushing to the last placethe villagers had seen Geralt.

Now Jaskier was wondering around the forest, half out of hismind with worry and trying to pretend he wasn’t. Geralt wasn’t supposed to be far– the beast lived in a cave close to the village, and it only left on thenights it chose to attack. Jaskier found it easily – and with it he found boththe monster and Geralt lying, unmoving, in the clearing just outside the cavesentrance.

“Oh shit.” Jaskier breathed. “Oh fuck.”

He ran towards Geralt, not sparing the monster a secondglance. Geralt’s silver sword was thrust deep into its neck – it was dead. Hiseyes were on Geralt and Geralt only. The witcher was lying on his front, facedaway from Jaskier, and Jaskier couldn’t see him breathing.

He was by Geralt’s side in an instant, not even sure how hegot there, shoving the man in an attempt to roll him over. When he finallymanaged to get him on his back he couldn’t hold back a gasp. Geralt wasbreathing, but just barely, and three ragged claw marks ran from his rightshoulder all the way down to the opposite hip. It was bleeding sluggishly, andjudging by the pile growing on the forest floor, it had been for a while.

“Shit.” Jaskier said again, shaking Geralt slightly. “Geralt.Geralt! Come on, wake up!”

The witcher didn’t move, didn’t even groan, and Jaskierfought to swallow back his fear.

His eyes widened.

Swallow.

“Okay.” He jerked upright, reluctant to leave Geralt butknowing he had to. “Don’t you dare die on me Geralt.”

He turned and ran, desperately peering through the trees ashe went. He knew it wouldn’t be far – Geralt never set up camp far from wherehe battled his contracts.

“Roach!” He yelled when he finally caught sight of the camp.“Roach where are you?”

He heard the horse shuffling about at the edge of the camp, happilymunching on some grass, and could have cried. He ran to her, ignoring her greetingnudges in favour of rummaging in her saddle bag. It took him a minute – toolong, far too long – to find it, and when he did he ran immediately backto Geralt’s side.

“Geralt!” He yelled, getting no answer, though he didn’texpect one.

Geralt was lying exactly where he had been before, stillhardly breathing and bleeding out. Jaskier fell to his knees beside him. Hishands shook as he wrestled with the bottle’s cap, and for a heart stoppingmoment he feared he would spill the sallow all over the forest floor. He grithis teeth and managed to pull himself together enough to pour the healingpotion down Geralt’s throat.

Jaskier sat back on his heels, watching Geralt’s chestintently.

“Come on.” He muttered, again and again, waiting forsomething, anything to change.

When Geralt’s breathing eased into something less like awhisper, and Jaskier could see the blood slowly stop weeping from his wounds,he knew he had to act. He pushed himself back to his feet, determined to findRoach and get Geralt back to the village so the stupid man could heal somewherethat wasn’t the forest floor. It was the least he could do, after everythingGeralt had done for him.

///

The inn owner allowed them to stay free of charge, providingthem with everything they needed for Geralt to heal. They said it was paymentfor what he had done for them, and Jaskier agreed, though to him they owedGeralt much more. He’d saved the lives of everyone in the village and almostlost his own in the process – providing him with a place to heal was the veryleast they could do.

They should be singing Geralt’s praises and lining up togive him gifts of gratitude, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, but no one ever askedhim. Not that it really mattered. Jaskier sung Geralt’s praises any chance hegot, and Geralt didn’t much care for gifts. Not unless they were for Roach, theselfless bastard.

“Jaskier.” Geralt ground out, in the very early hours oftheir second day in the inn, startling Jaskier out of the doze he had falleninto. “Where’s Roach?”

Selfless bastard. Of course the first thing out of his mouthafter almost dying and spending days unconscious would be concern for his horse.

“She’s in the stables, probably being treated better than weare. The children love her.” Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest. “Notgoing to ask why I’m here? Or how you got into this nice, lovely bed instead ofdying out on the hard forest floor?”

Geralt groaned and rolled away from him to face the wall.“Hmm.”

“I’ll tell you.” Jaskier said. “I was wandering my way north,spreading my songs to those unfortunate few that have yet to hear me, when Iheard rumours of a witcher passing through the nearby town. And lo and behold,when I get here, I’m told the White Wolf has gone to face a monster that hadkilled anyone else that tried to kill it.”

“It was just a contract.” Geralt said gruffly.

Jaskier spluttered, disbelieving. “Just a- three witchersdied trying to kill that thing! You almost died!”

Geralt didn’t seem to care. Which, knowing Geralt, he didn’tcare about himself, but knowing that didn’t make Jaskier any less angry atthe man. He cared about him, damn it.  And while he didn’t normally have to worry,knowing Geralt had faced a monster that had bested other witchers was enough toset him just a tiny bit on edge.

And maybe just a little out of his mind with worry.

“Damn it Geralt!” He said, standing up and glaring down atthe man.

“What?” Geralt grunted, forcing himself upright.

“What is wrong with you?” He yelled. “You almost died- youwould have died if I hadn’t found you! And you don’t even care!”

Geralt stared at him, calm, and it made Jaskier’s bloodboil. “I’m a witcher Jaskier. Fighting is what I do. Dying is always apossibility.”

Jaskier grit his teeth. “I know that! But you could still carefor yourself, at least a little!”

Geralt said nothing, and Jaskier felt his temper snap. Helaunched forward and grabbed Geralt’s tunic, though he was still mindful of hisinjuries. He intended to drag him forward and yell at his stupid, pretty face untilhe actually started to care about himself at least a little bit.

He managed the first half. He pulled Geralt forward, untilthey were nose to nose, but then Jaskier got distracted by the gold of Geralt’seyes, and then the white of his hair, messy and loose without it’s tie, andthen his lips, as kissable as they’d been the very first time they’d met, and suddenlythat was all Jaskier could think about.

And then he was kissing Geralt.

It wasn’t the type of kiss Jaskier normally gave, filledwith passion and desire. There was some of that, certainly. But it was almostentirely lost underneath the anger Jaskier could still feel bubbling in hisgut, the anger borne from worry and fear and maybe, possibly, a little bit oflove.

Geralt was frozen underneath him for a moment before he startedkissing him back fiercely, with none of the anger and all of the passionJaskier had imagined they would share when they finally kissed. It made himangrier, impossibly, and he pulled away with a growl.

“Stop almost dying.” He said, no, commanded, no room forargument.

Geralt swallowed, sighed, and shook his head. “I can’t.”

And Jaskier felt like crying, because he knew. He knewGeralt could never turn his back on someone that needed him, no matter howdangerous it may be. It wasn’t who he was.

And so their second kiss was only a little lessangry, but by their seventh Jaskier thought maybe he could forgive his selfless,idiotic witcher.

-

If you wish to support me, please consider donating to my PayPal.

[colubrina]

would you ever post a snippet of your original writing?

Sure :) This is the first chapter of the second book I queried, called THE AZRAEL PROJECT.  Just keep in mind this book failed to find a home, and that was fair.

The line to pass the checkpoint moved slowly all morning. Kay had long finished his coffee and was wondering whether he could dart off to find a bathroom when Azzie touched his shoulder. “Almost there,” she said. “Be patient.”

Patient. Right. He was about to go into the land of the corporate and privileged, a place he’d always been told to avoid, all because his stubborn, ridiculous sister had to go and get a job there. He was a lot of things right now. Angry. Tense. Worried. Scared. 

Patient wasn’t going to make the list anytime soon.

As they took another step forward, and then another, his gut churned. A camera whirred in the corner of the room. Who knew how many more sat in the walls, watching. Counting. Recording. A thick glass window let him see into a room where a crying woman sat, slumped and hopeless, a worn stuffed rabbit clutched in her hands.  She hadn’t made it through the checkpoint.  If she was lucky, she’d get tossed back outside the wall in a bit. If she was unlucky, well, he didn’t want to think about that. People died in corporate detention more than they came back. He itched to move away, to fade into the thickening crowds, to go back where he’d come from. Going into Mount Desert Corp. was a bad idea. A dangerous idea. 

But then they were at the front of the line and Azzie had her arm out for the chip reader, and it was too late to find another way. The reader scanned the tiny chip embedded in her wrist and dinged, clearing her for entry. The gate agent waited for Kay to put his wrist under the scanner just like everyone else.

Only he wasn’t chipped. No internal ID linking him to their systems. No working guest band. Azzie had claimed it would be fine because of her clearance level. Now that they were here, that seemed insane. 

“Any day now,” the agent said, her eyes on the screen. “Don’t hold up the line.”

“He’s with me,” Azzie said. 

“Non-corporate visitors need a wristband.” She sounded bored. She probably hated her job and only cared about how many hours there were until her shift ended and she could go off, find her friends, get a drink.  When they didn’t move, the agent sighed loudly.  That sigh said it was her day for idiots who got in the wrong line. “You can get a health scan and a one-day guest band at -.”

“Check my authorization,” Azzie said before the agent could go into her spiel. Her voice stayed pleasant. It was the same tone she used when convincing little kids to swallow their immunization pills. It was reassuring and calm and trustworthy but also implacable. I can stay here until you’re ready to do this, that voice said. And I will. She’d done it, too. He’d watched her sit for hours and wait for a child to take her immu-pill.  He’d always wanted to shove it down the kid’s throat.

“He needs a band,” the agent said again. Azzie put her wrist back under the scanner. The cheerful ding authorizing her entry felt false and off and frightening. Kay knew it couldn’t be, but the sound felt louder. It felt like a siren screaming to everyone that he was an intruder. 

“My guests don’t,” Azzie said.  It was almost a challenge and petty bureaucrats didn’t like being questioned or challenged. This one was no exception. It didn’t help that Azzie wasn’t the sort of pretty woman people wanted to accommodate. Her face failed to be beautiful.  Each feature was lovely on its own but put together they argued with one another and left a woman in their wake who might have been arresting or interesting or fascinating but who wasn’t at all pretty. The wide, dark eyes had thick lashes but their softness didn’t fit with her hard jawline. Her skin was much too pale and smooth. Her cheekbones too broad.  He’d always liked the way looked out but she made most people uncomfortable and they found reasons not to look at her. She was certainly managing to make the agent uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and annoyed.  She narrowed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the counter and it all made nervous prickles dance along Kay’s arms. His whole life his mother had warned him to stay unnoticed, unscanned, and out of corporations. A smart man would turn around and walk away from here right now. Except Elizabeth was missing and he had to find her. Azzie was going to help him, and this checkpoint agent would have to deal.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” the agent said, “but guests and guest workers at Mount Desert Corporation need a corporate visa or a wristband.”

“Not always,” Azzie said. She dropped the canvas satchel she carried and smiled with the calm patience that settled around her wherever she went. “You can call your supervisor if that would make you feel better about it though.”

“Just check the girl’s record,” said the person behind them. “The rest of us want to get in before lockdown.”

The agent scowled but she seemed to recognize Azzie wasn’t going to move so she looked at her readout and clicked on the name. She made a point of clicking with enough force that they’d know she wasn’t happy with them. She clicked again, and again, and again. Every click made the scanner ding and every ding made Kay’s gut clench a little bit more. He kept expecting a guard to appear, stunner in hand, to throw him into the same pen as the woman with the stuffed animal. It will be fine he whispered to himself. He inhaled through his nose, counted to three, then exhaled. Azzie might have been the only person in the processing area who wasn’t upset. Kay could feel the sweat trickling down his arms, the agent was angry, and the people in line behind them were shuffling with growing impatience this was taking so long. 

Kay could see the moment the agent found the details of Azzie’s clearance level. She went grey and swallowed away spite turned to fear.  She looked up with a nervous, placating grin. If she’d been a dog, she would have been baring her throat.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It was my mistake. It’s just… I never… you don’t look… welcome back to Mount Desert, miss. Ma’am.”

Azzie bent down to pick up her bag as if nothing had been amiss.  “Thank you,” she said. “Have a nice day.” And with that Kay was following her through the gates, past the barbed wire fence, past the concrete wall, and into the residential section of Mount Desert Corporation. Stores with glass windows and no bars lined each side of the street. A park stretched out with real grass and trees offered shade from the cruelty of the sun. The road looked quaint, built out of picturesque cobblestones, but he could see modern drains built into the sides. Flooding would be whisked away here. Storms might come, but they would go too. Weather Incidents, as the news was wont to call them in a fit of understatement, weren’t bad this far north anyway, but the ones that did reach here wouldn’t turn the place into a reeking disaster. Azzie curled her hands into tight fists when they were clear of the border and the coastal town opened before them. 

“Az?” he asked. “You okay?”

She stretched her fingers out again and took a deep breath. “I don’t like coming back,” she said. “Not a lot of good memories.”

“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. He’d dragged her here with his problems.

“Not your fault,” she said.  “Let’s get a hotel room while we wait for Deacon. I could use a hot shower.”

She didn’t explain what had happened with the agent and, glancing at a fountain that bubbled with clean water, Kay decided not to ask. A shower sounded good. A bathroom better. 

After all, even after two years as friends he still had plenty of secrets of his own. “Lead the way,” he said.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

It Was That Time of Year Again

Cold winter nights came early, even in the idyllic town of Greenwick. But unlike other, similar settlements throughout North America, this quaint little pocket of suburbia just shone all the brighter.

A picturesque coating of powdery snow reflected all the light, amplifying the glow of bright windows and Christmas lights and elaborate illuminated decorations, all gleaming from the perfect houses and their roofs and their lawns. The sun had barely set, leaving behind a sliver of bright orange glow on the horizon, complementing the kaleidoscope of warm and dazzling artificial lights.

It all brought a smile to Caroline’s face. She rode in her car down the wide and sleepy streets of her hometown. The comfort of her vehicle’s heating helped create a cozy cocoon of nostalgia. While the car rolled down the freshly-plowed road at a lazy pace, some friendly folks in the neighborhood who recognized her waved at her, replete with cheery smiles on their faces.

She basked in the glow of the serenity of this place where she had grown up, having returned here from the big city for the first time in a decade. Everything was perfect. More perfect than she ever remembered, or had envisioned when she packed her bags for the holiday season.

Too perfect.

Before Caroline reached the next turn to take, she spotted a familiar old face. Jacob Brooks—his face now a roadmap of wrinkles that portrayed the lines of a happy life lived, framed by a full head of salt and pepper hair—looked up just in time for their gazes to meet.

Both their faces lit up, beaming at each other in recognition and happy over the reunion. Caroline waved and stifled a giggle, then pulled her car over to stop at the curb by Jacob’s snow-covered lawn.

He ceased his toil of shoveling snow out of his driveway and sauntered over to her car, just in time for her to lower the passenger seat window and lean over.

“Now you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a chuckle, shooting her a wink. “Looks to me like someone got bored with the big important city life. What in good God’s name brought you back to our humble little town?”

Her smile widened and her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to come up with an answer. Always that pressure for finding the proper amount of eloquence.

“The family keeps rotating where we meet up for the holiday season each year, and we finally agreed to come back here for one last time before talking about selling the old house.”

Jacob’s smile stayed on his face, but it twitched and masked the shadow of a frown.

Caroline hated disappointing anybody, though, and almost squealed when she blurted out, “But I’m going to buy out and renovate the place.”

Jacob nodded and the earnest air returned to mingle with his smile, making it honest again.

“Now, you see, that’s somethin’ I love to hear,” he said. “Bright mind and beautiful smile like yours? Always welcome, here in Greenwick. Yoz'odrhaxz.”

A shiver ran down Caroline’s spine and she tasted something metallic in her mouth. Something that reminded her of copper. She blinked and took a moment to process what he had just said, which all sounded great except for the final and unintelligible syllables.

“Sorry,” she said, face twisting to underline her apology. “What did you just say?”

Jacob blinked and his brow furrowed in confusion before he replied, “I said you’re always welcome, here in Greenwick. Yoz'odrhaxz.”

There it was again. Tying her innards up in a knot, driving her pulse to speed up, ever so slightly. Making the warmth of her car’s heating clash with the cold wintry air pouring in from the open window where Jacob peered inside. The cocoon stopped feeling as safe as it had, and something dark and inky started blending in with the soup of nostalgia that her mind had been swimming in.

Yoz'odrhaxz. Those sounds were all wrong. She had never heard them before, but hearing them twice left her feeling deeply unsettled. For a split second, she wondered if she was having a stroke. She didn’t want to hear that ever again. Then she realized how long and awkward this silence must have been growing between them, accentuated only by the thrum and soft vibrations of her car’s running motor.

She forced a smile onto her face and hoped it reached her eyes. The mask she had learned to wear, growing in Greenwick—the mask that had gotten her so far in the big city.

“Well, I gotta get going, I’m already running a little bit late,” she told him.

He smiled again. At least it looked genuine—it helped take off some of her edge.

“You are the last one I expected,” he said, wagging a finger at her. Another warm and fuzzy chuckle erupted from his throat.

Just before the edge had bid its final farewells, it bubbled back up, returning in full force. From the corner of her eye, Caroline saw the blood draining from her face. Realized with delay how her brain parsed the words after her gut did. Her gut, that was now tied up in a thick, heavy knot.

You are the last one.

I expected.

You are the last one.

She gave him an awkward wave and pushed a button on her console. The window began rolling back up to close. The smile stayed on his face, like a frozen mask. It looked authentic enough, but offered no chance of dispelling the dread that now took root inside the dark recesses of her mind.

The same place where nebulous memories lurked. She struggled to recall how she had gotten here. The blur of slapping that alarm clock to make it cease its annoying beeping, early that morning. How she packed—

Jacob knocked on the window just after it had shut completely.

Caroline swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and pushed the button again. Lowered the window till it was open again, but just a crack.

“Hey, um, why don’t you stop by? Y'know, like, whenever. I’d love to catch up, talk about old times, and such,” he said. “W-we, uh—we c-could go grab a coffee at the diner—it’s still there, hasn’t changed one bit since you, uh, rode outta town.”

His smile had transformed into something fiercely nervous. So innocent, so downright adorable that Caroline could not help but find it sweet.

She nodded and told him she’d love that, then hastily rolled up the window and drove off.

Still, she smiled at Jacob through her rear view mirror as she drove off, accelerating to a speed just slightly over the limit. She still used her signal light as she took her left turn on the deserted roads. He raised a hand for a motionless wave in parting, picking up his snow shovel but not returning to work on his driveway.

She expected him to return to shoveling snow but he continued standing there, watching her drive away until her course had put other houses in between them. Smiling all the while. Two masked people. Pretending nothing was wrong.

Caroline found no way to shake that feeling, unable to forget those ghastly syllables that had escaped his throat. Like someone choking on broken glass and shattered dreams.

Yoz'odrhaxz.

She had in no way merely imagined him saying that. Not twice.

But she also felt with a sense of certainty: he either did not realize it himself, or he knew very well and kept up a perfect guise of feigned ignorance. Either way only made her insides knot up even tighter.

Focusing on the road helped, though. Those streaks of tire treads that ripped through the thin sheen of snow on the asphalt. The ostentatious displays of Santas and cartoonish reindeer and fake snowmen, all decked out in clusters of brightly glowing lights.

The sun died beyond the horizon. That last sliver of natural orange light vanished with it. The one solace the sky still gave Caroline? She could now clearly see the twinkling stars, littering the dark void of the heavens. Tiny beacons, lonesome on their own, varying in their intensity, but brilliant and pretty as a whole. And comforting.

Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the steering wheel with such force that she could practically hear the faux leather crack under the sheer pressure. Taking a deep breath and pushing it out in a calming sigh accompanied her releasing some of that tension, loosening her hold and trying to clear her mind.

But the horrid syllables refused to go away.

They summoned something else from the darkest corners of her recollections. She remembered every highlight of the day, every dreary stretch of monotony that had constituted the hours of driving all the way out here.

The uncomfortable thing that haunted her thoughts was a dream she had suffered through last night. In it, she had returned to Greenwick but was another person entirely, a woman named Rita. And waking up to the alarm clock’s beeping, it had taken so many moments of disoriented stumbling around to realize that she was, in fact, Caroline, and not Rita.

She was, in fact, driving home to Greenwick to see her family. She was going to break the news to them about paying off all the outstanding debts on the house and fixing it back up. Maybe even moving back out here. Unlike Rita, who thought she was being chased by vampires, eventually hiding out in her old home from former neighbors and family members turned monsters.

The vampires in that dream wore masks fashioned out of strips of human skin, stitched together. They did not drink blood, they did not have super-powers. They just made you wear one of their hideous masks when they caught you. She spent most of her dream running, attempting to evade and avoid the vampires.

The circle of thoughts—cycling back and forth between the bizarre dream of Rita’s night of terror, and the reality of herself, Caroline, returning to her hometown—it occupied her mind to the point of complete absorption. It helped keep those syllables at bay.

When Gina, one of her best friends from growing up, flagged her from her brightly lit porch, Rita finally snapped out of it. Or rather, Caroline snapped out of Rita, and snapped out of the haze of last night’s dream invading her consciousness.

She pulled up to the curb of the sidewalk in front of Gina’s home. Cut the engine and got out. Gina’s expression kept alternating between happiness and something scrunched up, like she was about to break out into tears. Caroline slammed the door shut, and the two of them walked towards each other, eventually falling into a warm and loving embrace, with the fabric of their thick jackets rustling in the process.

“Oh my God,” Gina breathed, pushing away from her but maintaining a hold on Caroline’s arms. “Oh my. I’m so happy to see you.”

Their breath condensed in front of their mouths in tiny little clouds. Caroline fought back some tears.

“It has been way too long,” she told Gina. “I’m so sorry about—”

“No, listen. Don’t you apologize about nothing. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard things must have been, but I totally get it. Wouldn’t have minded a line or two, though.”

Caroline slid out of Gina’s hold till she found her old friend’s gloved hands and could tenderly grab hold of them. The Christmas lights all around them began to blur in the haze of tears as they welled up in the corners of her eyes. The tiny little twinkling stars in the sky stretched into bright streaks and crosses.

“We’re gonna make it right this time, I promise,” Gina said with a trembling voice, choking on first waves of an urge to start sobbing. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Bhaor'mer.”

Chills ran down Caroline’s spine. She shivered, especially in reading something resembling fear in Gina’s face.

“Ovhaioct, Khithalak,” Gina said. “Bhaor'mer.”

She smiled through tearful eyes at Caroline. That smile carried not only elation over seeing her again after all these years—and all those circumstances behind them—but also a profound sense of sadness, twinkling in the reflection of the stars in the tears in her eyes.

Paralysis had seized Caroline, locked up her every limb. Those syllables, just as horrible as the ones that had come from Jacob’s mouth, though different one and all.

Sometimes, a vivid dream breaks just the right way with reality, allowing the dreamer to realize that the experience is but a fabrication of the sleeping mind.

This was not one of those times.

That taste of snow delivered by the fresh wintry air; that warm sweet breath of Gina’s, reaching and grazing over the exposed skin of Caroline’s face; those endearing displays of Christmas decorations surrounding them; everything imprinted her every waking second with so many vivid impressions that it could not be a mere dream.

Everything here in Greenwick was perfect. Too perfect, like it had been lifted right out of one of those sappy holiday movies. Everything except for those syllables, crunching through Caroline’s thoughts like heavy boots in snow, like tires on gravel. Grinding, and chewing, and chomping. Smacking. Something hungry.

Gina embraced her so quickly, so forcefully. It took Caroline by surprise. The embrace was still so warm—comforting, even. Still so loving. The fabric of their jackets rustled again as the embrace tightened. A gloved hand rested on the back of Caroline’s head.

A whisper in her ear, “Play along. Or else.”

Words nobody ever wants to hear. Especially not like this.

They boosted Caroline’s pulse to a racing thrum, the heartbeat pounding away in a crazed orchestration with the rushing of blood in her ears.

“Go,” Gina breathed, her lips brushing against Caroline’s ear, so close were they, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. This one pleasant. But not enough to override the growing horror of the words she spoke. “Pretend everything’s normal. Don’t say a thing.”

Gina pushed her away again, still smiling. Still teary-eyed. But it had all transformed into a mask. Hiding something else. Something that matched or even eclipsed the fear that Caroline now felt. In sync with her pounding heart, her fingers throbbed as Gina slipped completely from their embrace and backed away.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” Gina laughed. But the words and the laughter all felt forced. Staged. They were all theater kids back in the day, and none of them good. That much had not changed.

Gina silently mouthed a single word.

“Go.”

Caroline wanted to say something in return, but nothing fitting came to mind. And even if she could think of anything, fear had tightly gripped her throat.

All she managed to eke out, croaking it like a toad, was a feeble, “Bye.”

The moment she turned away and returned to her car with hasty steps, those syllables wanted to surface in her thoughts. She did not let them, pushed them down. Slamming the car door helped. The growl of the engine as she sped up while driving away also helped her stop thinking.

Right now, thinking was the enemy.

Caroline stepped on the gas, hoping to get back to the old family home as fast as possible without going over the speed limit. Snow be damned.

Even with nightfall, everything in town looked beautiful. A grotesque contrast to the nightmare she was living through now. The sea of artificial lights shed such perfect clarity on the shapes and outlines of all the perfect homes and yards and picket fences and mailboxes and gaudy Christmas ornaments.

And people stood outside. Caroline resolved to just wave and smile and pretend everything was normal and alright if they tried to flag her over like Jacob and Gina had. But none of them—neither familiar nor unfamiliar faces—none of them had eyes for her.

They were all looking at the sky. At some intangible spot.

That void between the stars.

The lights started going out. Streetlights went first, cascading from shedding bright light in her rear view mirror until they caught up and overtook her car, all switching off. Then all the decorative Christmas lights, house by house, street by street.

All the lights in the houses went out next. The whole town descended into darkness. The pit in Caroline’s stomach tightened.

What remained were the car’s headlights, casting blinding cones of wavering white onto the snowy road in front of her as she sped down it. Then even those lights went out. Then the tiny lights on her dashboard.

Caroline’s heart thundered, sounding like a whole horde of people pounding against the windows of her car. Drowned out every thought. Her palms grew slick with sweat, robbing her of her grip on the steering wheel.

Dread. That exploded into panic when finally, the stars winked out.

Caroline hit the brakes and almost threw up, feeling the force of inertia as the car skidded to a halt, combined with that very panic, that coppery taste in her mouth, now stronger than ever.

As she gazed into the darkness of the sky where stars once twinkled, daring not to breathe as if the sky itself might hear her, she thought of her dream. Thought she might be Rita, dreaming of being Caroline in this nightmare. Chased, hunted. Prey.

But this was no dream.

And that darkness, she began to understand, it grew. The stars did not just wink out all at once. They flickered—blinked. The sky parted, split in half somewhere. It opened to a void, darker than black. Hungry.

She got out of the car, thinking it would help wake her up. Instead, the chill of wintry air only made things more unpleasant.

People murmured those awful syllables. Or they spoke, or shouted them, and the distance reduced it to muttering in her ears.

The sky had stopped being a sky. It had texture. It moved. It yawned.

A breeze swept over her, but it had nothing in common with wintry air. It was warm and damp. Like breath. But like the breath of something huge, of something monolithic.

Like the sky exhaled upon her. A sigh of exhaustion.

Caroline laughed. Not the kind of laugh that explodes from one’s mouth as a consequence of amusement. The kind that clatters out like a bag of marbles clacking down, spilling out all over the floor. The kind that is shrill, like a knife being whisked over a whetstone.

The kind of laughter that people call crazy.

Though more than anything, Caroline understood now. She understood it all. The puzzle pieces had fallen neatly into place. The awful, unnatural words had wormed their way into her mind, setting root and seeding her thoughts with a clarity not meant for human brains.

Yoz'odhraxz awoke. It was time to feed.

It was that time of year again, and this year, Greenwick was on the menu. Nobody resisted because they had been groomed for this moment all their lives. Frozen behind their masks, nobody screamed.

Not even Caroline.

—Submitted by Wratts

[itsclownhours]

merlin as tumblr posts again because when i edited a typo in the original it fucked up the formatting

everyone: you have to make time for yourself

morgana: *stays up until 1 am every night crying* me time

.

morgana: ohhhh so the pain is forever and endless i get it now

.

young!mordred: once i learn how to read and write it’s over for you hoes

.

lancelot, in cursive: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: what does this say

elyan: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: bitch me neither that’s why i asked

.

arthur, to merlin, about lancelot: is he...y’know…*gestures downard to super hell*

.

uther, straight: hey what’s up guys do you want to go get some food

arthur and morgana, gay: ??????

uther: oh sorry i mean asgdhjdhs guys do you??? want some food??? lmao ashdjdjhs

arthur and morgana: oh! agshdjjshsj yeah lmao agshdj

.

morgana: do you ever associate the word “girlfriend” with wlw so much that you forget straight boys have girlfriends

.

gwen: am taking care of a tiny kitten. have given it an excellent name. dad thinks i’m calling her “minty” but this is actually short for The Government

gwen: The Government bit my finger and pooped on the floor

.

gwaine: peak art is when you were like six and you scribbled all over ms paint and then carefully paintbucketed in all the different shapes in the scribbles to make “stained glass”

.

morgause: forcing my car to commit sins so it goes to hell with me when i die

.

leon, after arthur gives the knights a pep talk: so motivational...time to drill a hole in my skull

.

morgana: i want to be a she really did that!! kind of girl but i don’t do anything

.

arthur: pros and cons of being my friend:

arthur: pro: you have a friend

arthur: con: it’s me

.

gwaine, to lancelot: bro let’s watch a horror movie together...bro you look scared do you wanna share a blanket dude? if you wanna hold hands it’s ok. if you wanna rest your head on my shoulder it’s alright bro...bro if you wanna kiss that’s understandable that was a scary movie...we can keep cuddling after the movie is over it’s alright dude…

.

lancelot: old town road but he just keeps listing all the places he has horses

gwaine: i got the horses in the back

gwaine: horses on the track

gwaine: horses in the shack and i got horses fetching snacks

gwaine: i got the horses in earth’s core

gwaine: down under the floor

gwaine: horses in the store and i got horses on the moor

.

gwaine: died and came back as a cowboy i call that reintarnation

.

morgana: *shows up at college* excuse me will someone please direct me to the leftist brainwashing class? i’m here for the leftist brainwashing class

.

merlin: finally found someone i was more disappointed in that myself: the entirety of america camelot

.

morgause: customer (derogatory)

.

arthur: business major (derogatory)

.

leon: leonardo dicaprio date a woman over 25 challenge

gwaine: thought that said “leonardo da vinci” and was confused since da vinci was gay and also since you were calling out someone who’s been dead for well over 7 years

leon: well. da vinci has been well over 7 years, i’ll give you that

.

morgana: the retirement age needs to be lowered to 25. i’ve had enough

.

gwaine: i’m fucking in luigi’s mansion

leon: who?

gwaine: some italian freak

gwaine: oh you meant who am i fucking. your mom

.

leon: stop setting things on fire because you’re curious about what will happen. what will happen is fire

gwaine: but what if...something else happens. just this 1 time

.

morgause: bored? burn an orphan. who’re they gonna tell? their parents?

.

morgana: due to personal reasons i will be a serial arsonist

.

mithian: fruit (affectionate)

.

arthur: going to the fruit (derogatory) store do you want anything

.

gwen: fruit (salad, yummy yummy)

.

morgana, to gwen: i’m allergic to hookup culture and too weird to participate anyway. die in my arms

.

kilgharrah: i am fast and full of teeth. i will die in a barn fire

.

morgana: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana: evil again

.

morgause: every day i put on my evil little clothes and do my evil little tasks

.

percival: megan thee stallion and timothee chalamet are the same age

gwaine: megan thee stallion 🤝 timo thee chalamet

.

morgana: hey how many swords do you have

morgause: sword of a lot

morgana: blocked

morgause: parried

.

morgana and gwen simultaneously in 1x10: *chanting* girls with swords girls with swords

.

morgana: the more knives you have the more valid you are

.

kilgharrah: blocked. blocked. blocked. you’re all blocked. none of you are free from sin.

.

morgana: seven deadly sins speedrun

.

gwaine: i want 6 pet sloths so i can name them after every sin except for sloth

.

merlin: the eighth deadly sin is networking

.

arthur: online school culture is constantly wondering if there’s a sneaky little assignment you missed...is it tucked under modules or assignments or heaven forbid, announcements? who’s to say?

.

gaius: asynchronous learning

merlin, a clown: mmmnaptime

.

arthur: have you ever just cried because you’re you

.

elyan, to percival: bro, we are teens . it’s ok to cry around me . i’m your best friend . i love you … bro we are kissing now … no don’t stop bro … bro …

.

morgana: mad bc i was told as the bride my wedding would be “my day” but actually where will be a whole other bride there and we will have to share it

.

leon: i’m disgusted every time someone does a gender reveal and it’s about a gender i already know about, what kind of reveal is that

.

leon: gender reveal party??? no, this is a gender repeal party. we out here revoking genders

.

gwaine: you’re laughing. i asked you who sings party rock anthem and you’re laughing

.

gwaine: make no mistake not only am i party rocking but i’m also in the house tonight

elyan: are you shuffling?

gwaine: everyday

.

morgana: lung extensions

morgana: with extended lungs you can: scream longer, breathe harder, brag about extended lungs

morgana: this procedure is not legal but i will do it for you

morgana: do not tell the police or morgause

.

morgana: i’m so sick of dna, i’m going to have all mine removed

morgause: good news! this is a real thing that can happen to you

morgana: perfect, sign me up

.

morgana: if YOU die because i poisoned you...how is that MY fault like i’m sorry you aren’t immune to my poisons i think that’s genuinely something you need to work on. fix yourself before blaming others

.

arthur: my body is NOT a “temple”...it is a CLOWN CAR and NONE OF THESE BITCHES KNOW HOW TO DRIVE

.

morgause: live

morgause: laugh

morgause: l u r k

.

mcdonald’s employee: please sir get off the table

gwaine: I ASKED FOR TWO LARGE FRIES *dumping bag of fried out onto the floor* BUT INSTEAD GOT A HUNDRED FUCKEN LITTLE ONES

.

merlin: i relate to vampires because i too must be clearly and specifically invited in before i have the audacity to try to participate in anything

.

gwaine: it can’t be september, just yesterday is was marchgustuary

lancelot: today’s date: [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/20

.

gwaine: why are internet friends not normalized. it’s 2020 they’re probably making robots that will wipe your ass for you and i can’t text grace in the uk and tell her to have a good day? fuck you

.

percival: imagine if halsey was in beauty and the beast

elyan: are you insane like gaston. been in pain like gaston. bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like gaston

.

arthur: my dad is learning about pronouns/gender identity and he called me in the middle of the night to tell me he is cis

.

merlin: ough. those first 400 bites of dirt were not so good. maybe the next one will be better

.

morgana: i’m at the dark candy store, buying sorrowful ranchers

.

merlin: i’m surprised no one has ever punched me in the face

.

gwen: i want a gf so i can send her memes about loving my gf

.

morgause: oh to cook with my wife and stand directly in front of cabinets and drawers she needs to open

.

morgause: decided i will no longer be paying taxes. what are they gonna do, tax me more? go ahead. i won’t pay those either. oh i’m going to prison? the one paid for by my tax dollars? sorry, didn’t pay em. now there is no prison. i am at least 3 steps ahead of the government at all times

.

merlin: lab safety but the teacher just wants to you die

merlin: lab safety: 1. drink whatever’s in that beaker. i know you fucking want to

.

morgause: my therapist is selling her house so i’m gonna find the listing online and make her living room my zoom backgrounds before our next session. you wanna get in my head? ok well i’m in your home babe. i’m in charge now

morgana: yeah i see why you’re in therapy

.

morgana: i hate it when people ask me to “explain my thought process” like hell if i know

morgana: what’s going on in that head of yours?” nothing i want to be a part of

.

mordred: hey girls what’s the hot gossip what’s new what’s the 411

morgana and morgause: everything is bad and getting worse by the day

.

morgause: common letter greetings from 1889

morgause: dearest my-soon-to-be-enemy

morgause: salutations and i hope you enjoy contact prison

morgause: i hope this letter finds you in a ditch

.

arthur: *highlights all the wrong and unimportant stuff with full confidence*

.

merlin: i’ve tried opening my mouth and saying words before and i’ve gotta say, i’m not a fan

.

morgana: a large group of humans is called a fuck that

.

website: synonyms for blood: juice

mithian: thank you thesaurus.com, that is absolutely not what i was looking for

.

gwaine: gen z humor was single-handedly cultivated by the zoo wee mama comic and you can’t convince me otherwise

.

morgana: screw this it’s halloween now *turns into a swarm of bats them consumes the moon*

.

morgana: i can’t believe the heterosexuals are gone. they’re gone

uther: we’re still here

arthur: who said that

.

gwaine: no more france

gwaine: society has progressed passed the need for france

.

morgause: girls night out (of body experience)

.

morgana, to morgause: what do you mean “what have i been up to”...i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch

.

merlin: stop complaining about your life. there are literally people living in camelot

.

arthur, trying to find new knights: oh so you’re a human? name three pictures with traffic lights in them

.

gwaine: we mcfreaking lost her doctor

.

morgause: looking for a wife in the walmart

.

morgause: arrested for visiting www.killing.com/murder

.

gwaine, to merlin: no bro this isn’t a date listen bro

gwaine: it’s bruhnch

.

morgause, to cenred: if you think i’m not interested, you’re right

.

gwen: put a pancake on a girl’s head when she’s asleep to keep her warm and safe

.

morgana: idk what mad scientist needs to hear this today but your goggles and lab coat are incredibly flattering and all your experiments will block away the scientific community who called you a fool

.

morgause: i’m gonna fucking die disease

morgause: symptoms: back hurts a bit too much for a bit too long

.

arthur: if you think i’m annoying now wait until i get over my fear of being perceived as annoying

.

merlin: sorry if i’m bothering you

surgeon: how do you keep waking up and saying that

.

gwaine: home depot needs more small tunnels for me to crawl through tbh

.

percival: hot tip: soup is customizable! go wild but know your limits

.

morgana: brains say “i know a spot” and take you to a traumatic memory from 2011

.

mithian: “can you multitask” yes actually i am losing my mind and chilling at the same time

.

morgana: quarantine schedule to keep you on track

morgana: wake up

morgana: neglect online school

morgana: yearn (ongoing project)

morgana: again!

.

mithian: if cats don’t want to be held like little babies maybe they shouldn’t be roughly the size and shape of little babies

.

morgause: fuck this pandemic i could’ve ruined 2020 on my own

.

morgana: a cute girl told me she has lots of plants in her house and i told her for some fucking reason “damn the oxygen at your place must be mad crisp” and somehow still got her number so. chase your dreams. nothing is impossible apparently

.

morgana: oh to wear a knife strapped against my thigh beneath a silk dress

.

morgana, running off with morgause at the end of season 2: i hate this place i want to go to build a bear

.

morgana, at work: i’m evil

morgana, 1 second after clocking out: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana, the next day at work: evil again

.

season 2 morgana: i am fine thank you for asking! though recently there has been a darkness growing within me

.

morgause: *thinks about love* okay well i am just losing my mind and being insane now

.

arthur: you think you can hurt my feelings? i’ve been the least favorite in every single friendship group i’ve had since i was 8

.

morgana, staring out the window at arthur and merlin: look at them plotting my downfall

.

mithian: i wanna buy clown noses in bulk and start sticking them on every person i see whose mask is pulled too low

.

mithian: oh to be a tiny cat whose biggest concern is the looming threat of being gently picked up and kissed on the head

.

morgana: i deserve to be kissed

.

morgana: did you have a homoerotic friendship with a girl in high school that ended in tragedy and you two are never talking again or are you normal?

.

mithian: just diagnosed with forehead kiss deficiency :/

.

morgana: i think i’ll continue to wear a mask when this shit’s all over, and huge sunglasses. my face is none of your business

.

morgause: my therapist told me that sometimes when a person consumes the same piece of media over and over they may be unconsciously coping with a mental block so now i’m trying to figure out what the fuck i was going through that made me watch ratatouille 8 times a day for a solid month in middle school

.

morgause: opposite of depression nap. depression awakeness. refreshing the same three websites over and over. there’s nothing new on any of them. eight seconds have passed and it feels like a century

.

morgana: very homophobic that my head is not laying on the chest of my maidservant as i am drifting off to sleep

.

merlin: no no, it’s fine, i’ll text myself back

.

morgana: *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns*

.

arthur: i’d have to be a fool not to? being a fool and not doing things are my top two activities

.

gwaine: you think it’s easy to be me? you think it’s easy to get up every. single. day. and be an industrial grade dumbass? well it’s not. but that’s what i do. and i’ll never stop.

.

morgana: ah shit i’m sorry man, my schedule for the week is all booked

sunday: yearn

monday: pine

tuesday: long

wednesday: ache

thursday: sigh

friday: lament

saturday: crave

.

morgana: talents include: being a public menace, denying God’s will, petting dogs, yearning, being dramatic, witchcraft, quoting classic literature when no one asked, napping, befriending a murder of crows, being gay, covering up my emotions by being “the funny friend” when in reality i’m really going through it, wistfully staring out the car window

.

merlin: *doesn’t even do the bare minimum* all in a day’s work

.

cenred: a “period” is not an excuse to have an attitude

morgause: i miss the times when men would go to war and die

.

morgana: the cheap halloween vampire fangs stay ON during sex

.

gwen: maybe i pspspspsp’ed you because i love you. did you think of that? huh?

.

morgana: mom said it’s my turn to hand out the ominous and vague warnings

arthur: that wasn’t mom

uther: she JUST SAID it was her turn

.

morgause: i’m a chill person but if my back doesn’t stop hurting i’m going to take out my spine and beat God with it

.

mithian: one of these days i’m going to say the f word

mithian: then you’ll all be sorry

.

morgause: 3 words every girl wants to hear

morgause: club penguin membership

.

morgana: hmm, yes.

morgana: time to s i p

morgana: some *~crispy~*

morgana: d i h y d r o g e n m o n o x i d e

.

morgause: roll call! raise your hand if you’re in the following fandoms:

morgause: 1. suffering 2. the pain of living

morgana: *raises both hands and a leg*

.

leon: it’s so hard being a single mom when you have no kids and are a male teenager

.

merlin: yeah bro hit me up and we’ll cancel some plans sometime

.

morgana: my brain, or as i like to call it, the suffer contraption

.

morgause: my circle so small i almost cut myself off

.

morgause hyping herself up before entering any public area: i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal

.

arthur: today in french we learned how to say “what’s in the bag” and i couldn’t stop laughing because

arthur: swaggity swag qu’est-ce qui dans le sac

.

merlin: even when i am not speaking, know that horrible sentences are raging within me

.

mithian in 5x04: sorry bro i can’t go out tonight. i’m stuck in an eternal state of melancholy

.

morgause: shower gel label: immerse yourself in this new “Me Time” luxury frooty tooty. abandon all sense of identity and dissolve your memories into this soothing chemical broth. one billion melons are in this tube...use them wisely

.

leon, writing a headline about the most recent knights’ mission: local dumbasses knew that what they were getting themselves into and did it anyways

.

morgana: *feels random pain in body*

morgana: kill me

.

mithian: *slowly inches closer to your pet*

.

morgause: *refuses to look at texts* i love conversation and communication

.

arthur: cute gender neutral things to call your partner

arthur: significant annoyance

.

leon: the most unrealistic fantasy trope is the one where half of the pair works in some sort of shop and one is a customer because i have literally never thought about a customer with anything other than contempt

.

gwaine: why is everyone talking about 1d all of a sudden did one of them die

elyan: they’re 10 years old now

gwaine: i wish them luck 4th grade is tough!!

.

gwaine: must i pursue a career? is it not enough to be passionate about tv shows and snack foods?

.

leon, aroace: cool date idea: me eating oatmeal by myself

.

morgana: i have no self of steam

.

gwaine: i hate wearing a mask. i miss being able to gently kiss my trader joe’s cashier on the lips after they ring up my $8 box of blueberries

.

morgana: committing acts of violence today…*pushes morgause’s glass of water off the counter*

.

gwaine: mario will do anything to put a smile on your face

.

morgana: haha we get along so well...our brains just work the same way

morgause, after changing her entire personality to match morgana’s after analyzing the way she talks and texts: haha yeah it’s incredible

.

gwaine: covered in sauce, trembling

.

arthur: *says the vaguest most incoherent shit ever*

arthur: you know what i mean :/

.

[online]

morgana: *screenshots things her girlfriend said to her so she can read it again later* yeah i’m not gay

uther: dude no offence i don’t want to sound like an sjw or anything but if you have a girlfriend you’re straight. that’s just how it works

morgana: i’m a girl

uther: what the fuck

.

morgana: the second you say “family group chat” i know we are not the same

.

gwen: what if early in the morning after buying groceries we got caught in the rain and i used my jacket to cover your head ut we still got soaked and we made a fire at home and brewed tea and sat together watching the rain as our cats hid under our feets at each sound of thunder and we ate stew for dinner and watched tv until we fell asleep on the couch with your head resting on my shoulder

.

gwaine, to percival: hold my hand bro we’re crossing the street

.

percival: imageine if we all just started ignoring celebrities though

percival: i can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. imagine kyie jenner posting a selfie and it gets 12 likes

.

morgana: this isn’t fun anymore i need a kiss

.

morgause at 1159 pm: life’s great lol

morgause at 1201 am: does anyone really know me? most importantly do i really know me? what if life doesn’t get better than this?

.

merlin: king i needbfjdjgnjfg qldkr snmsmdjgjt ….. .. i need--fjrjkrhgphpqn dd

arthur: huh *dunks merlin’s head back underwater*

.

morgana: i don’t go to therapy or take any pills i just rawdog life and let my brain turn into soup

.

mordred: dark emails

morgause: to whom it WILL concern

morgana: now that this email has found you

.

gwaine: hi waiter could i get the spaghetti i promise i’ll behave this time

.

merlin: the sexiest thing about me? everything hurts my feelings

.

gwaine: how is sex fun if i have to remove my crocs to have it

elyan: if he makes you remove your crocs for sex he isn’t the one

.

morgause: a motherfucker could use an embrace

.

morgana: every night after 10pm my feelings start crawling out, starved, as i beat them with a moderately large stick vigorously hissing “stay back” until i inevitably fall asleep

.

fanfiction: there’s only one room available…

morgause, who specifically chose a rated m and explicit story: oh my gosh there’s only one room they’re gonna share a bed what’s gonna happen next

.

morgana: i can have a little unrealistic romantic fantasy. as a treat

.

arthur: some of y’all weren’t asked out as a joke in middle school and it shows

.

morgana: how is everyone doing. i’ll go first i’m doing badly

.

morgana: being a kid was so fucking funny we’d just go around lying to each other’s faces constantly to impress each other one of the knights told me he was the first person to visit the sun and when i asked him what it was like to prove he was lying he said he didn’t remember because they sent him there when he was a baby and to this day the mental image of nasa launching an unsupervised baby into the sun still makes me crack up

.

elyan: do you wish you were seeing somebody

leon: a therapist

.

morgause: when you see someone from high school and they don’t recognize you that’s the exact opposite of the mortifying ordeal of being known. the gratifying relief of being forgotten

.

[texting]

morgana: you seem hard to kill

morgause: aw thank you

morgause: i haven’t been killed yet

morgana: to your knowledge

morgause: what

.

morgana: just truly bonkers how much i love lying down……..like being horizontal? Unparalleled

.

arthur: when i was younger i really thought that piranhas were going to be a bigger issue for me than they’ve turned out to be

.

morgause: filling out the depression and anxiety checkboxes at the doctors is always so sad but also very very funny

morgause: i am handed a piece of paper. i check off a box that says “every day i wish i were dead”. i hand back the paper. the paper and its contents are never again discussed.

.

morgana: unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, i cannot just “walk up and join the circle of people talking”, but it does sound lovely thank you

.

morgana: if california is so expensive why don’t you move to somewhere like ohio

morgause: full offense but i’d rather be dead in california than alive in ohio

morgause: ugly and uninspiring--review of ohio

.

morgana: staying up late not even fun anymore it’s just sad

.

morgause: everyone should be comfortable in their own skin :)

morgause’s brain: except for you

morgause: except for me :)

.

mithian: please peer pressure me into finishing projects

merlin: do it or you’re straight

mithian: i said peer pressure not threaten

.

morgause: the year is 2030. bakery art is so realistic, literally anything could be cake. the uncertainty has gripped the world in fear. i go to hug my wife for comfort. she is cake.

morgause: i sob in despair as i eat my cake wife. she is delicious

.

gwen: do ladies love stupid men or do they just love men who don’t exhaust every opportunity to feel smart

gwen: “i used to think that melancholy was a vegetable” that’s incredible, let’s hang out more

.

morgause: basically i accidentally listened to a song a few years ago and it led to this

.

morgana: *desperately tries to romanticise her homework*

.

uther: do i have to be pretty? is it not enough to simply be the loudest person in the room with the worst opinions

.

morgana: oh i can’t possibly study, i have allotted the next six hours to yearning vaguely

.

morgause: allow me to de-introduce myself

morgause: my name is [redacted]

.

arthur: i have no good posts today i’m sorry guys

merlin: haha “today”

.

mordred: “do we perhaps use magic because we were bullied and needed blah blah special interest blah blah” shut the FUCK up i use magic to see my anime husband’s big fucking honkers. sorry you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: i came here to bully people

mordred: is it because you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: no it’s because i’m deranged

.

mithian: pretty sure seven deadly sins is a bit excessive

mithian: just combine wrath and gluttony and make hangry

mithian: sloth and pride make Bottoming

.

morgana: despicable me ruined the word minion whenever i become a supervillain i’m just going to have to call them my homies or whatever

.

gwen: as a bisexual i am attracted to lanky boys with dark hair, girls who look like they could kill me, and anyone wearing vampire teeth

.

morgana: if someone tried to assassinate me that would make me feel so important and valued and beloved

.

gwaine: turn down for whom?

.

mithian: fact: usage of the word “the” has begun to decline. this is because as more and more people become educated, usage of the word “thoum’st” has become more common.

.

morgana, kidnapping mithian in 5x04: truth or dare? uhhh i dare you to………………………………..fall in love with me. haha i’m just joking bro………………..unless…………………………?

.

gwaine: my thoughts are like a clearance sale

gwaine: once it’s gone it’s gone

.

morgana: *pronounces “hors d’oeuvres” as “horse divorce” specifically to piss off morgause*

.

gwaine: do you prefer women or men?

leon: death

.

morgause: honestly no offense but i love falling asleep and sleeping. it’s like. ok goodnight

.

morgause: ngl it’s kinda difficult to be the moody and mysterious background character in everyone’s life when you’re quarantined at home

.

morgause: i need to get laid

morgause: --to rest. put me in a coffin, let my soul ascend

.

gwaine: it takes a lot of heart to be this stupid

gwaine: it takes real strength not to know shit about fuck

.

elyan: what’s your favorite anime?

leon: i’m a christian

.

arthur: just bought this tapeworm from etsy!

lancelot: where are you gonna keep it

arthur: :)

merlin: i don’t like this conversion very much

.

gwaine: i’m home alone with the tv repair man

gwaine: i’m no fool, there are only two possible outcomes of this scenario

gwaine: porn or murder

gwaine, an hour later: apparently there was an unforeseen third outcome where he fixes the tv and then leaves

.

morgause: well tomorrow fucking sucked

.

morgana: dark brunch

morgana: *mixes a mimosa with evil intent*

morgause: this is just what being gay is like

.

gwaine: movie idea: guy finds a stone tablet engraved with a mysterious alien language and gets caught up in a national treasure-esque adventure to decipher its meaning, only to learn that it’s just an alien “live laugh love” decoration

.

arthur: sorry i didn’t mean to open your ig story 20 seconds after you posted i’m just unemployed

.

arthur: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgana: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

OR

cenred: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgause: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

.

morgana: wow would you look at that. it’s already that time of the night where i move the stuff on my bed to my chair. can’t wait until tomorrow when i move the stuff from my chair back onto my bed

.

gwaine: hi i’m bethany with girl defined ministry and today we are going to be talking about how to stan my chemical romance in a God-honoring way

.

morgana: bottom: ,,, !!! ;;; vers: …. top: no punctuation whatsoever

morgause: tops are illiterate

.

morgause: i slept for almost 12 hours but i might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

morgana: morgause that’s a coma

morgause: sounds festive

.

mithian: i am a simple woman. i enter the kitchen. i eat four servings of bread products. i leave.

gwaine: it’s one serving if you serve all of it to yourself

mithian: i like the way you think, friend

.

gwaine: spencer from icarly and rodrick from diary of a wimpy kid are on the opposite ends of the same spectrum

elyan: the gay older brother scale

.

merlin: i found a rock :)

merlin: my troubles will soon be over

gwaine: parasite (2019) dir. bong joon ho

percival: uncut gems (2019) dir. josh and benny safdie

elyan: cain

.

morgana: social distancing is okay for me bc i’ve been touch starved since the 15th century. i’m used to it

.

mithian: fanfiction hits different when you’re gay and yearning and haven’t experienced an ounce of romance in your life

.

morgause: callout for rude baby seen at grocery store

morgause: i’m calling out a baby (approximately 12-14 months old) from the grocery store due to its rudeness. i’m guessing its age based on appearance, motor skills (atrocious) and whatnot. anyway, i smiled at this baby and it just stared at me. as soon as i began to move on, though, the baby said “no!” and started giggling when i turned back around. this happened multiple times. the baby’s actions were toxic and manipulative. the baby was also manhandling a package of dried fruit which wasn’t yet paid for (quite minor) and was just generally sitting around and not helping

.

gwen: we need to melt down all the pennies and make the statue of liberty a girlfriend

.

morgause: had a realization in a dream i just had that this isn’t real and i can just do whatever i want and so i started shrinking the face of this guy that was talking to me and then once it got real small i woke up sleep paralyzed

morgause: i was given godlike powers over the universe by realizing it’s all in my head and the first thing i did was use them to torment the nearest man

morgause: and the actual God woke me up and put be into a 5 minute timeout to lay frozen and think about what i’ve done

.

morgana: does anyone else feel an awkward tension whenever you see another person your age in the grocery store

.

gwaine: the number 87 kinda looks like a plague doctor

percival: you’ve just changed the fucking game

elyan: [|87

.

morgana: a lonely bitch...a loner...i love isolation AND detachment

.

gwaine: i will not call the judges “your honor”. in america we don’t have titles of nobility. they will get a simple “yes dude” from me

gwaine: calling big bird just “bird” because i do not respect him

.

morgause: *photo of a pizza in a bad* caught the bae sleepin

mordred: now why would you waste a perfectly good pizza :(

morgause: that “waste” happens to be my wife getting her beauty sleep. think before you speak

.

gwaine: *finishes wedding vows* don’t forget to like and subscribe

.

morgana: *is bitter but is also right*

.

morgana: how dare you not notice me when i’m ignoring you

.

morgause, killing cenred: men be like i’m bilingual i speak english and over women

.

gwaine: after i move i really wanna get a used roomba

percival: i love that you’re adopting instead of buying from a breeder

.

mordred: joking about a kink is a gateway drug into developing said kink

morgana: my kink is mental, emotional, and financial stability

morgause: unrealistic, settle for choking like normal people

.

gaius: gay people use halloween props as home decor year round

morgana: shut up shut up this black jar with a raven painted on it is holiday-neutral

.

[texting]

morgause: can you come out?

morgana: yeah gimme a minute

morgana: morgause, i’m gay

morgause: i know that. come out to the car

morgana: car, i’m gay

.

morgause: God FUCKING damnit i’m such a hopeless romantic one day someone’s gonna say “i love you” and i’m just going to let out an agonized scream so horrible that they immediately change their mind

.

gaius: i’m not wearing glasses anymore i’ve seen enough

.

morgause: sorry my battery’s on 96% i gtg

.

morgause: you hate me? wow you think you’re hot shit and original huh well i hated me first so you can go grab a number and wait your turn

.

morgana: don’t ignore me ?? i despise being ignored ?? i mean i’m ignoring like 8 people right now but still ???

.

morgana: shoutout to my favorite coping mechanism, isolation

.

morgana: the concept of physical beauty is a scam unless you’re calling me cute in which case it is valid, actually

.

merlin: oh, so when other people go outside it’s “good for their health” and “highly recommended”, it’s only when i do it that it’s a “containment breach” and a “high-level threat to public safety and security”, huh?

.

gwaine: a charming photo of young john mulaney, seemingly celebrating the kennedy assassination

merlin: princess diana wasn’t john mulaney’s first kill

.

morgause: hate when i got out in public and the public is there

morgana: it seems the public is no longer in the public

morgause: i’ve won...but at what cost?

.

morgana: girls will see a chance to commit arson and be like “sorry, i have to take this”

morgause: girls will see a building that’s not on fire and say “is anyone gonna burn that” and not wait for an answer

[kristannafever-fics]

Unknown Fate - Part Four

Kristanna Canon Divergence

Kristanna Week 2019 - Prompt: The Unknown

Rated:  M (swear word)

WC: 4265

Previous Chapters

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

It was utterly amazing how such a simple thing as a warm bath could feel so good.   Yet another thing that Anna had taken for granted as the princess of Arendelle.

It felt amazing to get some soap on her grimy skin.  Even better was washing her hair.  She used to hate it when her hair got too greasy, but that was before her hair got so grimy that it turned the bathwater a rather unpleasant shade of grey.  

Still, that did not bother Anna.  She soaped her whole body two more times until the bathwater was getting too cold to stand.  When she got out, she toweled herself dry while she stared at the beautiful dress hanging on the back of the door.  She could not wait to put it on.

She made sure her hair was fairly dry before she finally slipped the dress over her head.  She was thankful that the tie for the bodice was in the front, eliminating her need to have someone help her put it on.  How such a simple thing like that could make all the difference in the world, amazed Anna all over again.

With her hair combed and put back into her braids, she tossed all her old garments in the trash and exited the small room to find Kristoff.

She did not have to look for him long.  He was just outside of the bathhouse in the little alley between it and the inn with his back leaning against the wall.  He gave her a lopsided smirk when he noticed her coming his way.

“How do you feel…” The last word died on his lips as his eyes widened, his gaze focused on her hair.

Anna suddenly realized that he had never seen the light streak in her hair.  It had been covered by so much filth and she usually wore her braids under a handkerchief to hide the dirt.

He blinked and swallowed like his throat was dry.  There was surely no way he knew who she was, was there?   She had spent her entire life in the castle with the gates closed. Barely anyone knew what she looked like and he was most certainly not at the coronation ball.  Perhaps he just thought that the streak in her hair was odd looking.

Yet his eyes said something different.  They burned with recognition and Anna was suddenly very afraid.   She knew Hans’s men still searched for her.  She had seen them scouring through town every once in a while.   What if…

No.  There was no way in hell that Kristoff was one of those men.  Still, how could he know her?

He clamped his jaw shut tightly and reached out for her hand.  He began to drag her back towards the Inn.  Anna suddenly felt an urge to stop and run.  She didn’t know him after all.  Not really.  She couldn’t take her assumptions as the truth.  Every spike of adrenaline through her body was telling her to run, yet deep down, her instinct told her to go with him.

She followed without a word.

He all but shoved her into the room and turned to shut the door.  She watched as he braced his palms against it, arms straight and hanging his head between his shoulders.  She understood in an instant that he knew exactly who she was and her heart started to beat even quicker in her chest.

Anna waited, nerves shaking her body.  He finally pulled himself away from the door and turned around and spoke two words, his face an expression disbelief, disappointment, and something else Anna could not put her finger on.

“What happened?”

Anna broke down.  Her knees unhinged and she fell, but she didn’t not hit the ground.  Kristoff was there to grab her, like he had been since the day they met.

He picked her up gently and carried her over to the bed.  He placed her upon it then took a seat on the edge.  She needed more, however.  She needed to be held.  She needed comfort.   She held her arms out to him, not expecting him to comply.

But he did.  He laid beside her on the small bed and pulled her into his chest.  Anna wept against him until she fell into a fitful sleep.

*****

She drifted in and out of consciousness.  Never once did the warm comfort of Kristoff leave her.  It wasn’t until she woke for good that he finally stirred, adjusting himself to lay flat on his back.  Anna went with him, unable to let go of their closeness for the moment.

He was silent, waiting for her to talk.  The problem was she had no idea what to say.  She had no idea what was going to happen.   She had no way of knowing how far Kristoff’s generosity was going to stretch. There would be a point in time when he was done helping her, wouldn’t there?  It’s not like he was going to take her with him.

Anna sighed and got up, unable to meet him in the eyes just yet.  She wandered over to where the basket of food sat on the table and lifted the handkerchief to see what was left inside.  She took the first thing her eyes stumbled on.  She bit into the bright red apple as she wandered over to the little window in the room.

It was dusk.  She hadn’t been asleep all that long.  

“What happened?”

Anna paused, apple mid-way to her mouth.   She had planned to never tell another living soul what had happened for fear of what would become of her sister if she did.  But the fact that now King Hans was in charge, didn’t seem to bode well for Elsa. Perhaps her sister was already dead.

Anna fought back the tears at the thought.  No, she wasn’t dead.  Anna could feel it in her heart.  Forced to live a lie maybe, but not dead.  Anna had to wonder what Hans had in store for her to keep her alive after he had taken the throne.  There had to be a reason.

Anna thought back to the last time she had laid eyes on her sister when she had discovered just how much a treacherous snake Hans truly was.  She was led to the courtyard by Kai, bundled up in cold weather clothing but nothing else.  Despite how many times she pleaded with Kai to tell her what was going on, the broken looking man remained silent as he led her to what Anna could only assume was her demise.

She was surprised to find Elsa and Hans standing together in the courtyard with a group of a half a dozen scary looking men huddled in one corner, watching everything through the sides of their eyes.

“Elsa, what is going on? Wait, where are the guards?”

“Relieved of their duty,” Hans said coolly.  “My men are in charge of the security now, since I am soon to be King.”

“W-why are you doing this Elsa?  Why are you giving him everything he wants?”

“I have to keep the Kingdome safe,” Elsa pulled in a shuddering breath.  “And you.”

“What do you mean? Elsa, you have powers!  I saw them!  Please, do something!”

“I… I can’t,” Elsa looked utterly defeated.  

“What?  Elsa, come on!  Hurt him before he can hurt us!  Get these men to leave!  You are the Queen!”

“And if I hurt you in the process?” Elsa shouted.  The temperature in the air dropped immediately as tiny shards of Ice started to fall to the ground from Elsa’s clenched fists.  “I won’t risk it, Anna.  Not after what happened when we were kids.  I can barely hold on most of the time.  I fear for everyone if I should ever let go!”

Anna’s eyes widened as everything clicked into place.  The fragmented memories, the sudden closed doors, the silent treatment…  Everything that had changed after that one night that left Anna questioning everything, day after day.  Now she knew.  There had been an accident.  Strange that she did not remember it.  What had they done to her?

That was why Elsa wasn’t using her powers to protect them.  She couldn’t.  She didn’t know how to control it.  Why else would she always lock herself away in her room?  Why would she cut her own coronation ball early?  She was starting to crack and she didn’t want anything to show.

Then Anna suddenly realized it was her sounding the alarm that must have tipped Hans off that guards were on their way.  The balcony doors were open, she was sure now that he had heard her screaming for help. What did he threaten Elsa with to get her to take whatever control she had on her powers and clear the air of snow in her room?  Was it her life?  No, not only hers at least.  He must have threatened Anna’s life as well.  That was why Elsa said she had to keep her safe…

“Elsa,” Anna whispered, shoulders dropping in despair, wishing she would have simply tried to take Hans down herself instead if accidentally letting him know she had seen him.

Her sister looked at her with eyes that confirmed all of Anna’s suspicions.  She was bargaining herself for the entire kingdom and Anna’s life.

What a downright dirty trick.  What a despicable human being this Hans was.  Anna felt sick to her stomach that she had ever thought he was handsome. Truly naive she was.  No, never again.  She was going to make a stand and do what was right, regardless of what it meant for her.

She was about to charge him when he spoke, most likely seeing her intent.

“Think about your next move carefully, Princess.  I am getting tired of entertaining the both of you.  You either leave now in this period of grace I am feeling, or I will kill the both of you.”

The men that were huddled in the corner were now closing in on all of them, creating a circle around them. Anna had no choice.  She was going to have to go along with this then figure out what to do on her own.  She held her head high and started her lonely walk towards the outside world.

Anna was just about through the gates when she heard two words, a death sentence carried to her through the cold night air.

“Kill her.”

Elsa started to scream and Anna ran.  She didn’t know what else to do.  She could hear several men take off after her.  Her only chance was going to be in the forest.  She just wasn’t sure if she was going to make it there in time.

She ran with everything she had as she heard the shouts behind her.  She was suddenly thankful for the moonless night, even though she tripped and fell several times, cutting her knees and shins on the cold, hard ground. She made it to the treeline with enough space between them to gain an advantage.   She knew these woods.  She had played in them many times when she was young, the only place her parents would allow that was outside of the castle gates.  As long as she stayed out of the town, they always warned her.  She had obeyed, even though she thought often about sneaking away just once so that she could see anything other than what she knew.

She went to a small grove of wild roses and crawled through an opening she knew well.  She was a lot bigger than when she crawled in as a child however, and the thorns tore painfully at her skin and clothes.  She forced herself onward until she was tucked safely in the hollow middle, hoping that no animal had made this their den since she’d been here last.

She was in luck to have it all to herself and she tucked herself into a ball as she heard footsteps approaching.  She held her breath, almost impossible with her lungs still burning for air from the run, until the footfalls fell away into the night.  She let out a shuddering breath as quietly as she could, unable to hold it in any longer, hoping that none of the men lingered.

She sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.  It wasn’t until the sun was well in the sky the next day that Anna emerged, knowing she needed to get as far away from Arendelle as possible.  She was on her own now and she needed to survive until she found a way to get back to her sister to help her.

“What happened?” Kristoff repeated, his tone noticeably gentler.

Anna still had the apple a breath away from her lips.  She lowered it and slowly turned around.  He was sitting on the bed, looking at her expectantly.  

Despite what she promised herself she would never do, she told him everything.

*****

“You were too scared to tell anyone who you were for fear Hans’s men would find you.”

Anna nodded.  Kristoff had shifted to the head of the bed and sat with his back leaning against the wall, his long legs out in front of him crossed at the ankles.  Anna sat at his feet, legs crossed under her as she told Kristoff what happened.  He had put the distance between them and Anna had to wonder exactly what that meant.  Perhaps he had decided to be done with the trouble that she carried with her now that he knew.

Kristoff remained quiet for a long time, eyes looking at her but out of focus.  “You have to do something.”

“What?” Anna said, exasperated.  “What can I do?  If I go back to Arendelle I have no doubt they will kill me.  I can’t ask people to help me either.  Who would care?  We locked ourselves away for so long, what are we to them?  Nothing.”

“The people are unhappy, Anna.  I am sure they would revolt to find that the Queen had no choice when she married him.”

“We have no idea how strong Han’s protection is.  Not to mention that he has the advantage of being locked in the castle.  It would probably take a thousand men to infiltrate his defenses.  Tell me, do you know how we can get that many people on our side?  On my side?  The Princess who spent her entire life hidden behind closed castle gates…” Anna shook her head.  “What’s done is done.  I can’t change anything.”

Kristoff remained silent while Anna told him more reasons why she couldn’t go back, that she felt her sister was alive and feared that harm might come to her should she return, that even if they could garner some support, Anna would never forgive herself should harm come upon her people in trying to aid her, and last but not least, that had her sister had given up her entire future to keep Anna alive.  If she went back and was killed because of it, everything would have been for naught.  

When she finished talking, a silence stretched on between them while Kristoff ran his fingers up and down his jaw in silent contemplation, his eyes focused on the toes of his feet.

Anna just about didn’t think he was going to continue talking on the matter until he finally looked at her.

“What do you want to do then?”

Anna blinked at him. Was he not listening?  

“There’s nothing I can do. All I can do is try and survive and figure out a way to keep myself alive.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” he said quietly, shifting on the bed so that he was sitting with he legs off the sides, facing his body to the wall.  He turned his head to look at her as Anna followed his movements and sat beside him.  “I asked what you want to do, not what you thought you needed to do.”

“What I want?” Anna asked, looking forward in thought.  What did she want?  She wanted to go back to the castle and kick Hans’s ass, that’s what she wanted to do. She wanted him to suffer.  She wanted him to pay.  

But that was impossible. There was no way she could accomplish that.  Then what was there?  Surviving as a commoner.  That was the only thing she had left.

She shrugged, almost embarrassed to tell him.  “I want… I want to get a job.  I want to work.  I just don’t have any skills that would garner me employment.  But that’s what I want to do.  I want to earn a living and get myself somewhere to live. A simple room is all I need.  Work and have a place to sleep at night and to buy myself food.  That’s what I want.  That’s… that’s all I want.”

Anna dropped her gaze to her folded hands in her lap.  Funny, she used to want more.  She used to want it all.  She had wanted to find a husband who loved her and to have children to take care of. She used to want the life of a wife and a mother more than anything.  A faithful and caring woman to her man and a provider and teacher to her children.  They would be so happy… they would have a wonderful life in the castle.  Anna was even sure that given her having children, Elsa would eventually come around and be her sister again.  The gates would be open, they could spend warm days out in the gardens and the courtyard, they could stay in the library on cold and rainy days.  They could even travel the world if they wanted to…

Now all she could think about was want for the most basic things.  Work, food and shelter.  That was all. She had no idea how hard it was when everything in life wasn’t handed to you on a silver platter.  What must Kristoff think of her now, knowing where she came from, knowing that she had a title and a crown.  Or at least, she used to.  This wonderful man who had supported her when she was begging in the streets was probably coming to regret helping a spoiled brat whose only family left had been torn away from her by Royalty just like them.  

Anna sighed.  She wished Kristoff would say something. Anything.  But he remained silent and Anna couldn’t stand it anymore.  She got up and started to pace the small room, muttering that she was going to have to figure something out soon or she was going to end up dying on the streets.  Winter was fast approaching and she honestly didn’t know if she could survive another one.  The last one had been bad enough.  She truly didn’t think she was going to make it some nights, so cold she thought she was going to lose some toes and fingers.

“Work with me then.”

Anna stopped in her tracks, her back to him.  He didn’t just say that, did he?

“I mean it,” he continued in a quiet tone, perhaps understanding what was running through her mind.  “I could teach you the trade, kind of like an apprentice.  I would pay you accordingly and I have lots of tools.  There’s a harvester I know whose teenage son has just grown out of all last season’s clothing.  I’m sure I could get them for a decent price.  My tent is big enough to sleep two.  I sleep on the ground, but I can get you a bed roll so it’s not too uncomfortable.  I have a cabin, for the off days.  Whenever we’re between harvests.  It’s not much, at all, but there’s enough room for me to build another bed….”

His voice trailed off, like he felt his words were falling on deaf ears since Anna still had her back to him.  She couldn’t move a muscle.  Tear after tear coursed down her cheeks and face, gathering under her chin before they dripped to the floor.  She was too shocked to move, too scared that if she was to look him in the eyes that he might take it all back.  

All he had done for her and he was willing to do this as well.  He was opening up his entire life to help her, allowing her a way out of her predicament completely at his time and expense.  Anna didn’t think she would ever be able to understand his reasons. She had come to know that every one of his intentions were pure.  He didn’t ask her for anything and yet his was willing to give her everything. There was only one thing she could say to him.

“Why?” she said to the wall in front of her as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I told you why.”

“No,” Anna shook her head, turning around slowly and forcing gaze to meet his eyes.  “Tell me the real reason.”

His gaze flicked ever so quickly to her hair before he stared back at her blankly.  Anna suddenly understood why he was being so tight lipped.   He was simply being kind to her before, but now there was something else behind his intentions.  She could see it in his eyes.  At least, that’s what she thought she saw in his eyes.  Regardless, he was going to tell her and he was going to tell her now.

“I have told you everything,” she continued at his silence, “Now you will tell me how you know me.”

His tongue darted out and licked his dry lips.  “It’s not my story to tell,” he said carefully.

“Whose then?  The parents I had to bury?  The sister who no doubt remains a prisoner to an evil man? If not from you, then who?”

“Anna, it’s complicated-“

“No.   No, you listen to me,” Anna growled, striding towards where he sat on the bed and looking down at him.   “I am tired of people lying to me, of people keeping secrets from me!  I will not put up with it any longer!  I-“

“Okay,” he shouted. Anna looked down at him for a moment, breathing hard.  “Okay,” he said more softly as he looked up into her eyes.

Anna gave him a curt nod and waited.

He inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath as he looked to the floor.  “I saw you, when you were a young child, as I was.  You had a streak in your hair and your parents and sister were rushing you to see…” He swallowed quickly, “My family.”

“What does your family have to do with this?”  Anna asked, still angry but genuinely curious.  

“They are, how shall I put this… um, healers.”  He sighed, “Among other things,” he added under his breath.

“What?”

“Look, they healed you when your sister accidentally struck you with her powers.  Then you were made to… not remember what happened.”

“How is that possible?”

He finally looked up. “I can honestly say I don’t really know.”

“So, you’re not a healer like them.”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean? Actually, you know what, never mind. What happened to me after that?”

Kristoff shrugged.  “I have no idea.  Your family took you home and I never saw you again.  Well, until a week ago.  But I didn’t know until today… until I saw your hair.”

Anna searched his eyes as he held her gaze.  He was telling the truth but it felt like he was holding something back.  Either way Anna was honestly too exhausted to get into it. She didn’t want to think about the past anymore.  She didn’t want to think about how fucked up her life had been.  She didn’t want to think about the pain and the hardship and the hard and lonely years.

In truth she wanted to think about Kristoff’s offer.  About working for a living.  About having a roof over her head even if it was a tent, and food in her belly and maybe living like an actual human being again, not having to beg and steal or worry about finding a place to sleep or how she was going to survive the winter.

She sighed and sat beside him on the bed, staring into the floor.  “I’m sorry.  When it comes to my past, I feel so…. Lost.”

“It’s okay, Anna.  I understand.”

Anna chuckled softly to herself.  There was no way he could understand, but his sentiment was nice.  She let out a long sigh.  She didn’t want to talk about the past anymore.  

“So, you are serious?   About teaching me the trade?”

He waited until she looked up and over at him.   “I am.”

“Well, okay then.  I would love to become your apprentice. And…. Thank you.”

Kristoff was still for a moment before he responded.  “Just do me a favour?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t keep thanking me. Please.”

Anna smiled at him and nodded.  She understood.   He had all his cards on the table – he was going to help her get her life back and he was not doing it for any other reason than he was trying to pay forward the kindness that had once been paid to him.  Perhaps it was a way to ease his soul.  

“Well,” Kristoff said as he stood up when it seemed like he couldn’t stand the sudden silence between them. “Let’s go grab a meal in the tavern downstairs and get some sleep.  We’ll head up the mountain tomorrow and it’s going to be a long day.”

[pigeontheoneandonly]

The Phylactery

Part 2 of my Dragon Age / Mass Effect crossover.  Part 1 here. (Part 3 here.)

Nathaly, Kaidan, and Garrus arrived in Crestwood only a half-day behind schedule. Kaidan barely slept those nights on the road, a death grip on the staff concealed beneath his cloak and convinced that the templars would arrive at any moment.  Once they left the highway, that fear eased, if only slightly, replaced by howls in the night and the sparks of campfires in the wilds.  The area surrounding Crestwood was formed of craggy hills, plenty of areas for bandits and worse to hide.  

They gave them a wide berth where they could.  Once, a group of four approached them, ill intentions obvious, but Nathaly put her hand to her sword and spoke quietly, words he couldn’t catch.  They backed off.  Then she took a step towards them, half-drawing her weapon, and they turned and ran.  Garrus laughed and said something about her reputation preceding her.  Kaidan didn’t know what to make of that, and wasn’t convinced he liked it.

Now he sat in the mouth of a cave, looking out over the stark and barren land as the sun fell below the mountains beyond.  Drinking it up with his eyes and trying not to feel swallowed whole.  For thirteen years, the curved walls of Kinloch Hold formed his horizon, close enough to touch, barring the occasional glance at the same tired views out the windows, or the even rarer trip beyond Lake Calenhad.  The last of those more than three years ago, a trip to Highever to fix… something. Couldn’t remember what.  Though far from the Circle’s favorite mage, his power and grasp of magic was undeniable, and they were happy to use him for heavy-lifting.  It rankled, having his only utility in life dictated by the same people who took him from his family and his home.

But without them, he had no idea whatsoever of his purpose now.  It wasn’t like he could use any of those skills anymore. Not without risking exposure.  He worried, increasingly, about becoming a burden on the small group that now comprised his only friends.

Garrus had headed into town.  Their other two friends, the ones supposed to retrieve his phylactery, were days late now, and he hoped to hear something.  Maybe meet someone who’d seen them traveling.  Kaidan wouldn’t know it, looking at Nathaly now, scrunched into a ball with her cloak as a pillow, fast asleep without a worry in the world.  He tried to remember if she slept like that as a child.  Their families were close; hers helped with the harvest at his parents’ orchard, his made themselves available for shearing season, and the kids got roped into customary tasks like watching the herds.  They spent days and nights out in the meadows.  She had a great big sheepdog she never liked much, but who loved Kaidan.

Even then, she never talked about growing up to be a shepherd.  The oldest child of a not particularly large family, it was expected, but she wasn’t the type to care.  She talked his ear off about all the places she wanted to visit, the life she wanted to lead, devouring every scrap of every story that ever crossed their tiny village square.  And it seemed she found a way.

The sight of two figures picking their way up the hillside woke him from his musing. His heart clenched as he reached for a staff that wasn’t there, left deeper in the cave where it was less conspicuous.  The smaller person walked shrouded head to toe in a cloak, but the other glinted with bright steel armor, a templar emblem proud upon the chest.

“Nathaly,” he hissed, afraid to raise his voice above a whisper.  He scurried back into the cave and found his staff. Considered casting an illusion over the entrance, but decided it would draw too much attention, the sudden change in scenery.  Instead, he shook her shoulder.  “Wake up.”

She peered at him, groggy.  “Whaisit.”

“There’s a templar.  Coming up the hill.”  Trying to project a calm he didn’t feel.  

“Shit.” She found her longsword and stumbled towards daylight.

He came up behind her.  She stood tall, shielding her eyes from the sun.  Then she relaxed.  “Hey!”

She waved. Kaidan’s stomach contracted in horror. He hauled at her arm.  “What are you doing?”

“It’s ok. I know them.”  Smiling even as she tried to reassure him.  

“That’s a templar!”

“She’s not, actually.  Well, not anymore.  Long story.” Her smile widened.  “If she likes you and you ask very nicely, she might even tell it.”

His trepidation didn’t ease as they approached the cave.  Two women, the one under the cloak an elf.  A Dalish elf, he noted with surprise, as she lowered her hood and revealed the tattoos tangling across her face, vivid on her dark skin. Her black hair was braided down her scalp in thick ridges, but her eyes were startling blue, wideset and huge in her face.  She embraced Nathaly.  “It’s good to see you.  We were delayed at the tower.”

Nathaly drew back, all concern.  “Delayed?”

“Don’t be so inscrutable, Liara,” said the ex-templar, who was already stripping off her armor, with just the barest trace of an Orlesian accent.  “Ugh, I hate this stuff.  Weighs a ton and bakes like an oven.”

Broad-shouldered and tan, she had long brown hair coiled in a knot, and brown eyes that sparkled with good humor despite her groaning.  Nathaly gestured towards her.  “Kaidan, this is Ash.  Ash, Kaidan.”

She sized him up.  “So this is him.  He’s cuter than I imagined.”

Heat crept into his face.  He glanced at Nathaly, who looked just as embarrassed.  “Why do people keep talking like they know all about me?”

Ash burst out laughing.  “Really? She never shuts her mouth about you. This mage kid from back home she swore on her grandmother’s grave to pry from the Chantry’s wicked grasp.”

His cheeks burned.  Even Liara hid a chuckle.  “I don’t know what to say.”

Ash folded her arms.  “Thank you might be appropriate.”  

He hadn’t processed enough of this to be grateful yet.  Nathaly put a bite in her voice, tiring of the teasing.  “Leave him alone.  He’s had a rough week.”

Instead, he cleared his throat.  “So, how did you…?”

“Oh, right.” Ash reached into a pouch and withdrew a small vial of magicked blood.  His blood, to be precise.  “You probably want this.”

He took it carefully.  Not because he was afraid of dropping it— in fact, he intended to destroy it at the earliest opportunity— but because he couldn’t believe he was actually holding it in his hands.  Liara read the shock on his face, and explained.  “I began as an apprentice in the Circle at Dairsmuid.  My clan’s Keeper died before she could pass on her knowledge, and the mages in Rivain have an excellent relationship with my people. For convenience, I split my education between my clan and the enchanters there.”

“Wait,” Kaidan said, completely lost.  “They just… let you come and go as you pleased?”  

She twisted her fingers together.  “The Rivaini Circle appears unlike any other.  I did not know this.  Otherwise, things may have turned out differently.”

Ash took up the thread.  “As a senior enchanter, the White Spire requested her consultation on a matter of magical theory.  And she didn’t know enough to say no.”

“I immediately found myself in trouble, when I thought I might see the sites in Val Royeaux, and attempted to leave.”  She shuddered.  “The Templars seized me.  Began to yell, and I barely spoke Orlesian then.  I spent several days in the Spire dungeons.  Then weeks, when I tried to sneak out a second time, to return home. Upon realizing my phylactery had been ‘lost’— we don’t use them in Rivain— they made another.”

Ash resumed loosening her templar armor.  “Liara was forced to remain at the Spire for several years before she found an opportunity to escape.”

“I acted contrite.  Obedient. Eventually, my earlier transgressions were forgotten, and I was given important responsibilities.  Including access to the phylactery chamber.”   And then she smiled, quietly, both self-satisfied and genuinely pleased.  “Which is how I knew the procedures to liberate yours.”

Nathaly folded her arms.  “They walked in and took it.  Pretending to be a traveling templar and her mage charge, resting up a few days at Kinloch Hold.  I take it that it seemed too suspicious to vanish after Kaidan and his phylactery walked out the door?”

“Exactly,” said Ash.  “Instead, Liara helped them search the phylactery chamber, since she’s such an expert on them, and I sat in while the templars debated how to conduct a traditional search.  I don’t think any of their strategies are likely to work.  Then, after a suitable wait, regretfully we had to continue our journey. The phylactery was on my person the whole time.”

Kaidan wrapped his fist around the vial.  Angry and thankful and sad, all at once.  He could still feel the prick in the crook of his elbow, where they pierced his skin with a knife and trickled the blood into this glass tube, knew if looked he’d still see the small scar.  

Liara touched his hand.  Looked up at him, earnest.  “I felt the same when I finally held mine, and the Spire had me far fewer years. Everything will be better now. You’ll see.”

Then she followed Ash back into the cave, in search of their provisions.  He looked at Nathaly.  “Why?”

She uncrossed her arms and shuffled away, busying herself with folding and retying her scarf, the long ends of it trailing down her back.  Most of her hair had flown free as she slept.  As far as he could tell, she mainly wore it to keep strands from falling in her eyes.  “Why what?”

“Yes, you made a promise.”  He bit his lip, turning the phylactery over in his palm.  “We were just children.”

“I don’t see how that makes it any less important.”

“You risked yourself and your friends to free me.”  He eyed her.  “I am grateful.  I think. But Nathaly, you gotta admit, that’s kind of a lot to put on somebody.”

She glanced away and let out a breath.  Then looked back at him directly, backlit by the fading light.  “You were my closest friend.  I never met anyone in thirteen years I liked better.  You meet someone like that, you hang on.”

He should set a boundary, after that sort of statement.  Establish some kind of distance.  Instead, he said, “I never forgot you, you know.  I didn’t think you’d actually come.  But it meant something that you wanted to.”

Her expression relaxed into relief.  Not the emotion he expected to see— she’d been nervous about this reunion, too, and that hadn’t stopped her, either.  She finished knotting the scarf.  “I don’t have any expectations.  You want to leave, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go and be on my way.  I didn’t do this for me.”  A brief pause.  She licked her lips.  “But… I am happy to see you.  More than I can say.”

Early in his time at the Tower, he let himself daydream about what he’d do if he ever got out.  Until it started to hurt too much.  None of those fantasies involved hiding in a cave, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave.  Having a true friend again felt… strange.  But also good.  

He hefted the phylactery, and raised his eyebrows.  “I’m going to get rid of this.  Want to watch?”

“Gladly.”

Kaidan grabbed his staff and headed out, into a small cove of pines standing tall near their makeshift quarters, nicely hidden from any watchful eyes.  He set the phylactery on a small boulder.  It rolled into a niche and settled, a glowing ruby in the last light of the sun.  Brooding there.

He contemplated it for a long moment, this tiny object which had ruled his life since he was nine years old.  Then without any preamble he raised his staff and crushed it with the end.  Blood splashed over the rock, a morbid scarlet bloom running between the shards.  Then he leveled the crystal at it, called out three words, and it erupted in white hot flames.

Nathaly watched in silence.  When it lit up, she didn’t flinch, as he expected, but instead let out a small satisfied whoosh of breath.  Like she, too, saw this as a great righting of the world.  

They stood there side-by-side until the last of the fire faded, and all that was left of Kaidan’s leash was a scorch mark on stone.  Even the glass had melted away.  Then, deliberately, he turned his back on it. “Think your friends managed to put together some dinner?”

“Are all mages constantly thinking with their stomachs?” she asked, catching his change in tone.

“Maybe?” If nothing else, Kinloch Hold never lacked for food.  For too many of his fellow apprentices, that was the first time in their lives they could expect three meals a day, as big a portion as they wanted.

“Well, it’s good we asked Garrus to lay in more supplies.”  She jerked her head towards the cave.  “Come on.  Ash is a better cook than she’ll admit.”

[alcheminary]

uhhhhh yeaaaaaah I’ve got an order for some edwin featuring parental roy and riza, hold the royai?

merry new year, @bifullmetal, I’m your secret santa for 2018!! I’m sorry this is late, I was held up by some travel plans that popped off a little earlier than I thought they would

you asked for basically anything, so my plan going in here was to deliver a wintery and modern spin on the classic mermaid au fic. of course it ran away from me, so now you get a wip of a fic, and that just seems like a bum present so I draw art to make up for that, and gosh dude I just hope you like it

thanks to @fullmetalsecretsanta for putting this event together for 2018, you guys are awesome, for sure

anyway, here’s a sneak peek at the first chapter!

(edit: sorry for the extra late posting, I saved this to my drafts again on accident which is kind of the most embarrassing mistake I could possibly make)

“The Sea Bleeds Blue” Chapter 1 (prototype)

“... the man is reported to have been under the influence of alcohol during the time of his encounter…”

The tiny little TV blares throughout the house from its perch on the kitchen counter, a feat much more impressive in possibly any other structure that isn’t a cramped beach house. Like, seriously cramped. The kind of cramped where you can barely lay flat across the floor without hitting a wall.

It’s not like Winry Rockbell hates her grandma’s beach house. In a way, she gets it. You get older, your health starts to go, the warm weather is easy on your joints and the air is just so much easier to breathe compared to city smog. And everyone else your age has the same idea, too. When you have a nest egg and no other obligations, why not? Why not just live at the beach, wake up every morning to the soothing ebb of waves, sip your coffee on a porch overlooking the scenery, be a family vacation destination in and of yourself, and just wait to die?

That’s her whole bugbear with the thing actually, now that she thinks about it. People come to the beach to die.

She blinks hard, reaches for her wire cutters, and tries not to think about it much more than that.

“... officials like park ranger Jean Havoc however say the injuries are more likely to have been caused by a particularly territorial sea lion,” the newscaster on the TV continues, her voice tinny and distorted by the on-board speakers. Honestly, she could fix those if Gran would let her...

“He might’ve been feedin’ ‘em, harassin’ ‘em… Sea lions ain’t known to be gracious about their personal space, so all it takes is one loud, persistent jerkwad to ruin their whole day. Heck, mine too! Hahaha.”

“The man was admitted to the hospital this morning, and is expected to make a full recovery…”

Paninya scoffs, loud enough to startle Winry just as she’s threading the headlight through its socket. Luckily a less delicate part of this process. “Sea lion my butt. I’ve bounced frisbees off those things and they haven’t moved.”

She pauses as she considers that image. “Please tell me you don’t make field goals out of sea lions on purpose.”

“Of course not! They’re just… big. And bouncy. And all over? You can’t go down the boardwalk without tripping on them. Like, seriously, is there like a sea lion sanctuary nearby or something? Don’t they migrate?” Paninya asks, her nose scrunching up.

“Uh, I think Mr. Hughes might—”

“No, wait, that’s beside the point,” she interrupts. “And the point here is that I’m not buying what that park ranger is selling.” Her deep brown eyes watch Winry expectantly.

Winry puts down the wires she was futzing with and turns to give her a long-suffering smile, resigning herself to the next few minutes being completely unproductive. “Alright, detective, give me the scoop. What’s really going on in Brightly Cove?”

Paninya always gets this wild grin on her face when she does this. The corner of her smile lifts up just so, her eyes glint, and she squares her shoulders like she’s the hardboiled crime noir star the situation needs.

“Okay, so,” she starts, “You saw the gashes on the guy, right?”

Winry shrugs. “A little bit.”

“Okay, well, they’re completely inconsistent with a sea lion attack. We’d be looking for bites and puncture wounds, and he got approximately uhh, NONE of those. So either sea lions have mutated to have razor sharp claws in the past week, or it wasn’t a sea lion and the park ranger is bullshitting us to cover up what it REALLY was.”

“Right, I’m following so far.”

“So, let’s set the scene.” She stands up to stalk around the incredibly small kitchen table toward Winry. “You’re a dumb tourist that came to the beach in the winter. You’ve brought a brand new jet ski with you, completely oblivious that the water is way too cold for that right now. Because you’re a dumb tourist.”

Winry takes the cue. “I’m a savvy tourist because I’ve arrived when no one is here and none of the shops are open! Locals LOVE my business! Sure hope nothing happens to me without any lifeguards!”

“You’re out on the water when you get caught… in a current! Waves come and pummel you towards the shore, one by one! Before you know it you’re smashed up against the rocks,  no shore to save you. You’re stuck.”

She musters the most dramatic slump over the back of the chair that she can manage. “Woe is the fate of a tourist such as I.”

“But wait!” Paninya raises a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from some kind of indoor sun. “What’s that coming toward you? It couldn’t be, is it a person, come to save you in your darkest hour? But then it comes closer, and you realize fate has never been so kind… because there, in the distance… is…“ She leans in close to Winry with a grave look.

“Is…?”

“Bigfoot with a machete.”

“Bigfoot with a—?!” Winry sputters, pushing Paninya away as she absolutely howls with laughter. “Your idea of a more likely culprit than a sea lion is Bigfoot with a machete?!”

“Uh, yeah?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Come on Winry. The gashes. The rocks. The collectible shot glass he leaves at the scene of every crime. It’s totally Bigfoot’s m.o.”

Winry turns back to the mess of robotics on the table. “I’m done with you. Completely done. I’m kicking you out.”

“What? Noooo, come oooon, I’ve got nothing else to do today! I’m gonna be so bored, Winry, pleeease,” Paninya whines, flopping bonelessly onto the table with her best puppy-dog eyes. Winry is mostly unaffected.

“Why not just go hang out with Lan Fan?” she asks. “She puts up with you way more than I do.”

“Can’t. She’s out with her grandpa ‘scoring sweet holiday deals’ at the outlets.” The complaint comes with air quotes. “Besides, you’ve been talking about how cool this project is gonna be for like, mooonths. I can’t miss it after that kind of hype.”

“I have kind of been taunting you with it, haven’t I?” Winry sighs, curling a loose wire around her finger. “Tell you what. If you can be quiet and not so… Paninya the amazing living distraction on me, then I’ll let you come with me later to do the experiment.” Paninya’s whole disposition perks up like a labradoodle. “But! That means no distractions.”

“Aye captain, no distractions,” Paninya promises with a little salute.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Several hours in that ramshackle beach house kitchen, crammed around a table and dutifully trying to keep potato chip crumbs from invading her whole zone (which, to Paninya’s credit, does not technically count as a distraction), and it’s finally complete. Just in time for low tide, too. The thing she’s been dreaming of doing for months, the senior project that will launch her college applications from drab to fab, the thing that will get her out of this backwater beach town for good...

“Okay, so. No more secrets. Tell me what your project is, Win,” Paninya demands, handing her a roll up cord out of the backpack they brought with them. Winry beams at her.

“Wwwweeell, do you remember those guys from like, San Fran who started building an aquatic robot to explore a hole that was rumored to have treasure at the bottom?”

Paninya pulls out a half-eaten bag of Ruffles from the backpack. “No, but that sounds completely rad. Is that your project? Oh shit, are we gonna find treasure?”

“Probably not,” Winry casually admits, ignoring the way Paninya deflates. “But the robot, yeah. The one they built was a world-wide collaboration across the internet. They had a goal, and people would test their builds by building one of their own, tweak it, and report their findings on those tweaks. It was super cool.”

“Yeah, cool for nerds maybe…” Paninya mumbles around a chip.

“SO,” she presses on, “I built one of my own. With some tweaks. You know, in the spirit of the thing. Now I just need to test it out, record my success, and write a whole essay on it.”

“Which is why we’re in the spooky cave that you can only get to at low tide and has a mysterious bottomless pit in it? So you can see if your ‘bot dives or fries?”

“Yep!” Winry answers cheerfully. “And why not just use Ling’s pool to do this instead? My legs don’t get good traction in here. I almost slipped earlier. I almost died.”

“Because Ling’s pool isn’t saltwater, and you’re fine.”

“Wow. Cold. Is this what a shitload of free time your senior year does to you, or is it just the overachieving itself?”

“Both,” Winry chirps, and plugs the cord into the tablet. She moves to plug in the other end into the robot itself, but frowns. The waterproof chassis doesn’t look right, like it settled in transport, skewing the whole design just slightly enough that it kind of worries her. Just that tiny bit of pressure on the cable could knock it out with the right bump, or damage the whole port.

Oh well. That’s why a scout’s always prepared, right? She pulls a knife out of her pocket and carefully shaves the plastic away to make room. And just like that, the plug fits like a charm. Nice and snug.

She turns to Paninya, and nods. “It’s show time.”

“Wait, waaaait,” Paninya stops her, waving a cheese-dusted hand around as the other reaches into the backpack. “It’s bad luck to sail a ship without a name. Got one?”

“Uh… I’ve just been calling it Divebot mark 1?” she offers.

Paninya stops digging through the supplies to stare. “Come on, Win. I’ve taught you to ‘yes and’ better than that.”

“Ugh, fine, okay. Um… Divey Jones?”

“Better.” Paninya reveals a can of ginger ale, and at Winry’s own disbelieving stare, shrugs. “It’s not like I have champagne, dude. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Gently, Winry eases the newly christened Divey Jones into the pool of water in front of them at the same time Paninya starts vigorously shaking the can. It floats on top of the surface, gently bobbing, and Winry tosses a grin at Paninya. First success: buoyancy. Next: video feed.

She boots up the tablet, jailbroken to run an open framework because nobody wants you to sandbox their stuff anymore, and opens the custom app she programmed just for this project. One part video capture, one part robot controller. It saved her the parts cost of making a controller, but also? It’s just a little more impressive for whoever looks over her work. Look, she can engineer hardware and software!

When the window prompt comes up to sync the devices, she starts to get jittery. It was one thing to test out at the house, where everything seemed to work just fine, but this was it. This was what either made her winter break a vacation or a mad dash to troubleshoot whatever could have possibly gone wrong in her schematics. The only thing separating her from either possibility was the flip of a switch.

She picks Divey back up from the water, turns it over, and flips it from “off” to “on”.

Immediately, it begins whirring to life, humming in her hand as the battery does its work. She picks up the tablet and pulls out a notepad lined with little squares to check off as she goes through the boot up process: Video feed online? Check. Headlights? Check. A quick figure eight around the little pool confirms that the fins and motors are working, and she checks that off as well.

It’s time for the big moment. She and Paninya nod at each other.

She deflates the swim bladder a little bit, and as Divey Jones begins to sink into the black abyss, Paninya opens the can of ginger ale to a satisfying arc of spray across the cavern, whooping and laughing at the mess it makes. “Bon voyage!!” she calls down the hole, and Winry shakes her head, smiling and turning her attention to guiding the robot on its way.

The “bottomless pit” is an old volcanic magma tube of some sort, five feet in diameter at the top but quickly narrowing as you go down, and filled with water that pours into the cave at every high tide. The cave that contains it is only accessible on foot during low tide, and you have to be careful not to get caught in the cave during high tide. There’s a ton of warnings on a sign outside that attempt to dissuade tourists from trying to camp out in it, and for good reason.

She got stuck in here at high tide once, when she was a kid. Blacked out and woke up to an ambulance and her grandma freaking out. Couldn’t step foot into the place for a few years after that, partly because of trauma, and partly because the park rangers have tightened up their watch on the place ever since.

So. She and Paninya aren’t really supposed to be here. But, you know. It’s for science.

Paninya leans her head on Winry’s shoulder and watches the video feed on the tablet, the only indicator of where the robot is now that it’s turned a corner out of sight. She presses a chip to Winry’s lips, who mindlessly opens her mouth to accept it she’s so focused.

“How deep is this thing, anyway?” Paninya asks after a few more moments of watching video of dark gray rock walls float by.

“Hopefully less than fifty feet? The cable isn’t any longer than that.”

“Yeah, and you’re almost out of rope,” Paninya observes, looking at the coil beside them that grows thinner and thinner as the robot dives onward. “So now might be a good time to say you see the bottom.”

“Well, I don’t see anythi… wait.” Winry leans forward, bringing the tablet screen up to her face, her brow furrowing. There’s a small irregularity in the tunnels further down where it opens up a bit more. It’s like… what it looks like when an octopus camouflages itself against a rock. But the video on Divey’s tiny little camera is so grainy… and it looks so, so much bigger than an octopus.

Paninya leans in closer. “What? What do you see?”

“I… don’t know?” she answers honestly, and then something really startles her. “Oh fuck, it moved. It just moved—”

“What moved? Where am I looking?”

“Right here!” She points at the screen, at the tiny mass of pixels that is growing and changing and moving, even as the robot sits still, and she doesn’t know what it is. A thought occurs somewhere in her head that maybe she should start backing Divey up, but before she can do anything the mass surges forward in a terrifying blur and the feed cuts to static.

“Divey, no!!” Paninya squeals, and Winry nearly tosses the tablet across the room. But she’s cool. She keeps her cool. She’s smarter than to throw away the one thing containing most of the several past months of work.

“What the hell could…” She stops, the zippy sound of cord sliding across rock catching her off guard. That pitiful coil of cord that was slowly disappearing into the abyss with Divey is disappearing so much faster now, and with the tablet still connected to it.

“Winry, Winry Winry Winry, the tablet, you’ve gotta let go of the tablet—” Paninya babbles, scrambling to get onto her feet, and Winry doesn’t even think this time. She fumbles for the knife at her side, and in one swift motion, severs the line, just in time for the newly frayed end to get sucked into the hole like spaghetti.

Her mouth is dry as she looks up at Paninya.

“Run.”

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

The summertime of our lives, 1/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 1/?.

Pairings: Ninetoo x Rose.

A/N: Written for @doctorroseprompts summer bingo. Five summer-themed words: Ice-cream, Beach, Swim, Boat, Surprise (BINGO!). Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” - William Shakespeare.

CHAPTER 1:

The last few months had been hard for him. He had had to get used to this new condition. The half human part of him was bothering him a lot because it felt like a regression. One day, he was a superior being; the next day, he was an ordinary human with all the inconveniences it caused: too cold in winter – he almost went in hypothermia because he stayed too long in the snow without warm clothes – too hot when the temperatures were climbing, easily sick – first and last time he was getting a damn flu! Everything was wrong in the body of a human and he was thanking Gallifrey, Rassilon and all the stars of the galaxy for his Time Lord side. He was cleverer than normal but the silence in his head was unbearable. It was worse than after the war. Back then, he had the TARDIS. She was filling the holes, filling the silence. A silence that had driven him mad. At first, he had hidden it from Rose, from her family. She had a job, had her habits, her routine. He was staying home alone, pacing around, pulling on the little hair he had. He suffered from panic attacks, hurt himself. Once, he harmed himself so badly that Rose had to take him to Torchwood to have him healed properly without questions. After that, he had told her the truth. She was staying home with him and sitting on the couch, his head on her lap. She would stroke her temple and speak or read to him for hours. When she couldn’t be home, she recorded her voice on a music device and he would listen to it until the battery died and he was left with nothing but the silence. He had quickly learnt how to use the television and watched the worst filths that could air until Rose came home and found him sprawled on the couch. He had had to find something else, something that would keep him busy, that would soothe his mind. He tried sports – after nine centuries of running, staying home and doing nothing had him losing his nice shape – small jobs – but they all threw him out when he proved to be more intelligent than everyone – walks around a town he didn’t recognise. He inexplicably got his driving licence, babysat, helped people in the streets, played music, invented new scientific theories but nothing was really working. It was only temporary. Until he found out about gardening: diving his hands in earth, holding the tiny seeds, planting them, watering them, watching until they blossomed. Rose found him several times at night, covered in mud, observing the small stems and leaves. She would come to him and force him out of the garden and in the shower. Torchwood had provided him with a brand new identity. A human identity. He was named Maxence Spitz and was born on February 16, 1982. Which was a total lie. He was much older. But he was going with it. As long as Rose kept calling him Doctor, he wasn’t too confused. Having a real name was easier when you had to live a human life. It was harder than a thought it was. He used to be afraid of many things as a Time Lord. These fears he had often mocked Rose and Martha and Donna about were his now and that was absolutely terrific. He couldn’t reason his mind. Whenever he tried thinking about something else, he was always coming back to this particular thought. Rose said that winter tended to sadden people and that summer would fix it all. But summer was taking all its time to come and the Doctor was desperate for these better days to come. What he hadn’t been told was that summer was only a season. It wasn’t three months of just wandering around and enjoying life. Rose only had a couple weeks of holidays and that frustrated him to be forced to stay home while she was working for them to be able to live properly without Pete’s help. Money ruled the world, no matter the universe you were in and he had none. This was really getting to him and nothing could take away the weight of hi unworthiness that was a little heavier every day. ‘You can’t stay like this,’ had declared Rose after finding him once again slouched on the couch. He didn’t know what she meant until she started taking him with her everywhere like he was her lapdog and he didn’t like that very much. He quickly rebelled against her and refused to do that ever again. This was their first and biggest argument. An argument where he unleashed all his rage, his resentment, his frustration, his pain. And she took it all square in the face. It wasn’t what he wanted and he hated him himself even more when she silently passed the door and left their flat, left him alone to deal with his stupidity, to deal with this anger he had always had in him, with his loath. What was he supposed to do with that? What was he supposed to do with himself? He totally let himself go. He spent his time pacing around the couch for hours and barely slept. Eating, drinking, showering weren’t his main priorities. He was more resistant than an ordinary human but such a treatment wasn’t good, even for a half Time Lord and so, he ended up with hallucinations, dizziness and constant nausea. And when Rose came back home, she found him crazed and sprawled on the couch. It took him a couple days to get better and all this time, she was watching over him and taking care of him. It was as if they never fought that day. It was like one of those days in the beginning of their life together here. Simple, quiet, perfect. He was in bed, cursing himself and his stupid behaviour and she was sitting beside him, his head on her lap, her hand stroking his temple as she sang a song he didn’t know at all. She dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I’ve taken a leave. I’m staying with you until the end of it. Pete’s okay with that.” “Why do you do that?” She just smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She continued her strokes on his temple. It felt good, good enough for him to relax and close his eyes. Only a couple of minutes. That was a fact that was bothering him a lot: being half human resulted in him needing more sleep. As a Time Lord, he only needed one hour of sleep here and there whenever he felt like to. Now he needed a couple hours of sleep every day. Less than a human but it was a loss of time in his opinion. Something else that was also very human caused him to wake up suddenly: hunger. He was hungry all the bloody time and was putting on weight. A little bit but that was enough for him to notice it. The smell he woke up to wasn’t gonna help him with that. A whole lunch was waiting for him on the bedside table. His eyes, however, caught sight of something much more interesting. Suitcases. Closed suitcases that seemed very, very full. And one of them, there was a bettered leather jacket. He swallowed the lump in his throat. This was the last piece of his life as a Time Lord. The old jacket he was wearing as a shield against everything and everyone that could get too close to him, that could hurt him more. That other Doctor… he had handed it to him before disappearing. That pretty boy Rose would have preferred finishing her life with instead of him. He had never worn that jacket ever since. It was laying around on a coat hanger in a wardrobe he was not even opening. He had put it as far from him as he could. He didn’t want to see for it reminded him too much of his past as a traveller, of everything he had lost. He was still not ready to wear it again. Unless… Could those suitcases be for Rose? She said she had taken a leave, that she would stay with him but… what if she had decided to leave in the end? After all, he had never been the one she wanted. He sat up slowly. A few hours of sleep had done him lots of good but he wasn’t well enough to do much. He needed food and water but he was too stubborn to cooperate when his girlfriend was about to leave him! He awkwardly stood up and reeled to the bathroom. He rinsed his face and carefully avoided his reflection in the small mirror hung above the sink. He looked as terrible as he felt. No need to confirm that theory. He turned his back on the mirror and sighed. He ignored if he could go back to the room. Probably. He felt stable enough to walk despite his weakness. He reached the door, leant on it a couple seconds. Rose was in the room. She was adding stuff on the suitcases in neat piles. Stuff that belonged to her but also to him. Luggage for them. What was she up to? He said nothing but gripped the frame of the door. He had to eat something, to send some sugar in his veins. “Don’t stay there. Come over and have a bite.” She pointed to the food before opening a suitcase – her – and stuffing it with what she had brought. He reeled to the bed and let himself fall there. He swallowed a first mouthful of food to please her. Once again, she was thrilling his taste buds. She was a better cook than he would ever be. Not that she was bad. He could cook but it was too domestics for him. “So, what’s the plan?” “What plan?” “The suitcases. The jacket. Going somewhere?” “You and I, both.” The idea was enthralling. He ate some more, watched her pack their things. That process was unknown to him. Why packing when you had a spaceship with everything on board? A sentient ship supplying your every need? He really missed the TARDIS sometimes and the lump in his throat was back now that he was thinking of her. They usually avoided the subject but when Rose noticed the look on his face, she came and sat by his side on the bed, a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been more present for you.” “I should be sorry to give you so much to worry about.” “You’re sounding like Donna.” “I’m much better at self-depreciation.” Rose squeezed his shoulders. She hated when he was speaking like this. She was often mocking him with that and he would become his usual sarcastic self. Donna was an exceptional human but she had a very particular way of expressing herself. “That’s all the point. Half human, half Time Lord. A right hand that doesn’t belong to that body. I don’t know who I am, what I am supposed to do. I’m stuck here all day with no purpose.” He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m stranded in a universe that isn’t mine, deprived from my ship, from my life; I have a fake name.” He paused. He was mumbling for himself now. “Who am I? What am I supposed to do?” Rose lay on her side, snuggled against him. She put her head on his shoulder, pressed her hand on his single heart. For a moment, she stayed silent, just listening to the questions floating in the air. A new old Doctor, yes. But a new breed of Time Lord, of human. Something that had never happened before. Someone who shouldn’t exist in this universe. He was going through an existential crisis. She had gone through the same when she arrived here. He just didn’t know. “But you’ve got the woman you love.” “I’m not the one she wants. I’m just the pretty boy’s right hand.” “He’s not the one I fell in love with,” she cried out, sitting up. “He’s not the one who took my hand ad made me run in this life of wonders. You are! And that hand,” she grabbed his right hand, intertwined their fingers, held it tight. “that very hand is yours. I’ve held it many times and I can tell it’s yours and not his.” He was very clever but he couldn’t get why she was getting so passionate upon his questions. He had just expected her to listen, to comfort him like they always did. But this was upsetting her mire than he thought. There was more to it and he just wanted for her to continue. “The pretty boy like you call him was more interested in mysteries and other women. It was nice for him to have someone to travel with but he was careless. He wasn’t as protective of me as you were. I found myself in danger many more times and thankfully you taught me how to survive to the worst threats, to handle myself when I wandered off. I missed that Northern Doctor that was sometimes rude to other species.” The Doctor looked at their tied hands. His gaze lingered on his right hand, the one that had never appeared to him like his, this hand that was too large, these fingers that were long and thin, almost skeletal, those too light hairs. He observed it as Rose was peaking about Madame de Pompadour and how she waited for hours for the pretty boy to come back after he left her and Ricky on an adrift spaceship with clockwork droids wanting to kill them. The hand didn’t look so foreign to him anymore. It was less skin, more fleshy and fatter, long but sausage fingers, fingertips and nails in bad shape, palms calloused. Definitely his hand. The exact twin of his left hand. He placed this left hand over his and Rose’s hands. He squeezed them, a silent way to tell her that he understood now, that he could see it. Rose stopped talking and gave him a smile where he could see all her relief. She loved him, she chose him. They would find their way together.

x

Next thing he knew, they were on the road toward their destination for the rest of the summer. Apparently, being the daughter of the boss had some good advantages, like having unlimited holidays. She had a friend, she said, in a small town in the Jurassic Coat in Dorset. Some town called Broadchurch. It was the tourist season and there was nothing available anymore except for this small shack very close to the sea. A stack that belonged to that D.I. Alec Hardy. Obviously, the Doctor had googled the name – if googling stuff still applied in a world where the search engine didn’t exist – and found out that the guy had an uncanny resemblance with the pretty boy. Which didn’t please him much. Especially since Rose had admitted that they saw each other a couple times. It was over now. Definitely over. It had been a long time before he arrived in this universe and yet, he felt jealous because she tried forgetting him in the arms of someone else. Broadchurch was a nice little town though. Everyone greeted Rose with smiles and he sometimes felt like a stranger in her life. She never let go of his hand as she drove to the small shack. She parked as close as she could and they unloaded the car. The keys were waiting for them in one of those boxes with a code, a code Rose had received after renting the place. They settled down in this lovely little place. “What do you think of a walk around before dinner?” “Sounds nice.” Yet, his voice wasn’t very enthusiastic. He was still on the ‘Alec Hardy + Rose Tyler’ affair. Nothing was really done. Not ever. Time was just a loop and they were doing the same things and the making the same mistakes over and over again. This was bothering him a lot and he was brooding all along their walk in the port. Hands in pockets, he wasn’t finding any satisfaction in anything despite the beauty of everything. He liked the town better than London. Quieter, smaller, better smelling. Not a sign of pollution. Just the fresh air of the port town. And then, there was an ice-cream truck and Rose was tugging on his arm like a child and looking at him with pleading eyes. “You’re buying? Please?” “No money.” Such a parody of their first date – if you could call that a date – made him smile and all his bad mood was gone. That was one of the things she loved about him, his ability to change his mood so easily. She nudged him, calling him a liar for she was always giving him money to have on him. It was just in case he would need it, even if he was refusing to use what he called her money. He gave in eventually and bought her a three balls cone: strawberry, raspberry and vanilla. “What?” she asked when she saw him observing her. His bemused smile betrayed him of course. He slipped a finger in the already melting ice-cream and sucked it playfully in response to her offended look. He did it slowly, very slowly, and his smile widened when her pupils became as black as coal. He plunged his finger in the ice-cream again and licked it. Very, very slowly. And Rose decided to enter the game. She sucked on the ice-cream left on her cone eagerly, sensually and flirtatiously. He reacted the exact way she did: his eyes turned black, his flesh covered itself in goosebumps and his cock became uncomfortably hard. When she ate the last bit of the cone, her face had marks of frozen strawberry, raspberry and vanilla around the lips. Immediately, he swooped down on her to kiss her and lick the ice-cream off her face. Her hand quickly slipped from his shoulder to the back of his neck and she pulled him closer, pressed her body against his chest. Things were heating up fast and his hand grabbed her thigh. Her groan was muffled by his mouth and their making out was suddenly interrupted by the clearing of a throat. They could have been embarrassed but they just stepped back with smiles on their faces. The Doctor’s faded instantaneously when he saw the intruder. He contained his disdain and jealousy as Rose greeted her friend, Alec Hardy, and just nodded a salute when he was introduced. “I have what you’ve asked me.” The voice was different from the pretty boy. Well. It has the same tessitura but the accent was awfully Scottish and there was a tone that wasn’t the kind one used by the new Doctor. If anything, those two men were diametrically different. They only shared the same features. Alec didn’t say more about the mysterious demand. He just dropped keys in Rose’s hand and left. He had showed up at the shack but they weren’t there. He had seen them on his way home and stopped to give the bunch of keys to Rose. She pocketed it with a look of mischief. His eyebrow raised so hard on his large forehead that they could have gotten lost in the fringe he didn’t have contrarily to D.I. Alec Hardy. Rose pushed him slightly to chase this jealousy away. She gave him a tongue-touching smile and while he was struggling with the spell she was casting on him, she ran away. “Oi! Not fair!” He often forgot that she was just a kid when he had swept her off her feet and dragged her across the universe. She had grown up quickly because of him, gained in maturity and this universe had made her a very independent woman but deep down, she was still the pink and yellow girl who loved having fun. And what was the point of growing up if you couldn’t be childish at times? He shook his head, laughing, and chased her along the pedestrian trails of Broadchurch. Grass, rocks, dry earth left for sand and it became harder to run after Rose whose cheerful laugh was ringing to his ears. Once again, he was forced to admit that he was nothing more than an ordinary human. His legs were heavy and he was breathless in no time. Soon, he was compelled to stop running. He put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He was still discovering his limits and hated more than everything else when he was confronted to them. Rose caught him by surprise and jumped on his back, causing him to lose his balance and bit the sand. He tried to protest but only managed to swallow more sand. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Rose and exchanged their spot. He lay her down on the sand and stabilised himself above her. He needed a moment to cough the sand out of his human lungs and she used that time to reverse the part again. Only to be back under him. She was laughing heartfully and he couldn’t help but laugh too. Everything was forgotten and forgiven. Now was all about fun and love and not giving a fuck about people on the beach who were looking at them.

x

People were leaving and the were still sat there in the sand, watching the water licking the beach, going back and forth. They were silent. They didn’t have anything to say at the moment. They were just enjoying the present moment. The Doctor had his arm around Rose’s and she had her head on his shoulder. “Feeling better?” “About what?” “About letting yourself die because I was gone. You were nearly dead when I found you this morning.” “You’re exaggerating.” “You’d let yourself die if I was gone?” “Wouldn’t be fast enough.” He pulled her closer to him, wrapped her into a tight embrace she couldn’t escape from. “You’d have to take me with you.” “Together?” She snuggled closer to him. It was getting dark now and they hadn’t eaten yet. They didn’t feel like moving. It felt like time had stopped its course for them to have that precious moment they needed. “Forever.” He smiled and kissed her head tenderly. There were many questions that needed answers but it wouldn’t be for tonight. Not too much anxiety in one day. He had had enough already. However, the Doctor was no man to stay in one place for too long. He was soon up to his feet. He shrugged his unzipped hoodie off and got rid his shoes and socks. Rose titled her head on the side, wondering what he was doing. Until he plunged in the fresh water and swam. He was far enough to only be a dark figure to her when he waved at her with a large grin. “Come over!” he yelled at her. She shook her head, smiling, and he kept waving at her. She tried to warn him about the way the water was moving. The currents could be dangerous. He, of course, should know better. He used to be a – very bad – pilot driving though the course of the vortex, which was as tempestuous as the sea. It seemed quiet but it wasn’t. He was tossed about by the water and soon it engulfed him as if he was nothing more than a floating branch. Immediately, she was on her feet, had taken off her shoes and jacket before plunging in the water. She swam desperately to reach him before he drowned. He could hold his breath for a while – at least, his Time Lord twin could. He didn’t know his limits, didn’t know when to stop and… He resurfaced right before her with that manic grin she usually loved. She slapped his shoulder to make him pass the envy of doing that again. “I thought you were drowning!” “Me? Never!” She slapped his shoulder again and pushed his head under water to give him a lesson but he only played the fool and pretend to be drowning until he really was and she had to drag him back to the beach and do a mouth-to-mouth and when he coughed the water out of his lungs, she called him an idiot, yelled at him and he only smiled at her as her heart softened. She loved him, she cared for him, she didn’t want to lose him. That was him and no one else.

x

There was a small paper boat on the edge of the window that morning. Everything was new, unfamiliar and exciting by the was intrigued by this paper boat made of newspaper. The light was shining right onto it. He was absolutely fascinated by this cute origami. He heard the water, its swells rolling under the fragile paper hull, and smelt the salty air of the ocean. His heart cried out for adventures. He imagined himself standing on the deck, on the very edge, and watching the horizons for him to discover them. The wind would whip his face and engulf in his clothes. It would lead him to an unknown destination where he would have the time of his lives, running away from troubles, discovering new things, making new friends. That’s how his life had always been after he stole that type 40 TARDIS, even after the war. He had always been sailing toward novelty and adventures. He didn’t realise he was crying until a hand wiped away a salty pearl of water on his cheek. The touch was soft and gentle on him. The woman to whom the hand belonged to appeared in his field of vision and hid the small origami from him. He didn’t lean in her touch but he didn’t push her hand away either. She traced the features of his face, the wrinkles of his forehead, his large ear, his jaw, his chin. Her face showed the concern she had about him, about his reactions. No words were pronounced. Not one. He never said anything, always kept it all for himself and she just did with it. Everything was different now. Their relationship was different. They were supposed to share everything. Domestics. Something he had to be taught about. He was an adventurer, a traveller. Not someone you could keep locked in a cute house with a white fence and a small garden. It was suffocating him, drowning in a life he had once dreamt of for Rose and himself. “Breathe, Doctor.” The hand was on his cheek. He drifted back to the present moment, focused on his breathing until it was back to a reasonable rhythm. His single heart was aching. It was crushed. Typical of a panic attack. Symptoms of anxiety. He was used to them but he wasn’t used to have someone to help him through them. Rose never saw him vulnerable. Until he arrived here. “Looking for you, crossing the universes to find you, that’s what helped me when I arrived here.” “And now?” “Now I’ve got you. The only person I ever wanted to be with.” “And you don’t need more?” “I want the adventures, the stars, the travels. I miss it. But having you is worth the sacrifice.” “I’ve wanted this life with you. All we have here. But I’m not sure I’m made for this.” “Let’s become defenders of the Earth. This universe is also suffering from invasions, attacks, secrets and no one is better than you for this.” “Except for you.” “I’ve had a great teacher.” “How do we defend Earth without a TARDIS, a sonic?” “You might be surprised at how easy it is.” Rose got up and picked the leather jacket from the hook on the door. She sat cross-legged on the bed. He sat up, wondering what she was up to. She put her hand in the right pocket and looked for something inside. She pulled out a small silver tube. His heart stopped beating a couple seconds. It couldn’t be… She grabbed his hand and placed the tube in his palm. Black bottom, grey cracked paint on the middle, blue tip. He folded his fingers around the gey metallic device to make sure it was real. It looked real. “After you changed, I kept the jacket. I was sleeping with it sometimes, just to have the feeling of your arms around me. I thought that was why he gave it back to you, because it was familiar and comforting. Until I found this in the pocket. You would have been too proud to accept it if he had given it to you that day so he found an alternative. The sonic doesn’t make the Doctor but of that makes you feel better…” He had never thought he would hold this precious artefact ever again, nor that he would be able to use it. It was fully charged and ready for adventures that would never come. He smiled sadly but didn’t let go of it. He would keep it as a lucky charm or as a trinket. He had been living an almost normal life since he was here. If he chose the facility option now, he would never find happiness and peace. “A captain is worth nothing without a ship.” “Good thing I’ve kept that in my sleeve.” He raised an eyebrow and she gave him a mischievous smile. She brandished keys in front of his nose, the exact keys that Alec Hardy gave her the previous day. There was an orange plastic tag on the ring. It was written ‘Vortex’ on it. A very strange name to give to keys. “I couldn’t convince them to call it ‘TARDIS’ or ‘Gallifrey’. They accepted ‘Vortex’ though. Sounds nice.” “So you have a vehicle called ‘Vortex’?” “Not an ordinary vehicle.” She gave him another one of those smiles and took his hand. She forced him out of the bed where he was in nothing else but his boxers and led him outside. He shivered when the chilly morning wind reached him. Bloody human condition. His favourite blonde pointed to the horizon, to a large black spot on the sea. The silhouette of a boat. “That’s Pete’s yacht. He accepted to lend it to us for all the time we’ll be here. They dropped anchor in the bay a couple days ago and gave the keys to Alec.” “I don’t know what to say.” “You’ve got your ship, captain.” That for a surprise! That was the biggest surprise of the year. He was rarely speechless but he was right now. Rose Tyler, his pink and yellow girl, definitely knew how to make him feel better…

A suivre

The summertime of our lives © | 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

Next →

English version:

AO3 ||TS.

[blue-mood-blue]

“Rule number one, my dude,” Taako says as he picks up a tomato for a closer inspection, “Always know who your product comes from.”

The tomato looks fine to Sazed, as does all of the other produce scattered on the stagecoach counter, but he can tell from the expression on Taako’s face that there’s something he’s missed. That’s not difficult to do - Taako has a sharp kind of attention to detail that Sazed has never managed to match, and probably never will.

He doesn’t understand what he missed. It looks delicious to him, the best stuff they’ve seen in a few towns. “You know someone in town I should have talked to?”

Taako shakes his head. He’s got that smile that only feigns patience on his face. “How much did you pay for these?” Not much - an impressively low price, in fact, which Sazed had thought was a bargain but was probably a red flag instead. His answer must be clear on his face, because Taako doesn’t wait for him to say so before snapping his fingers.

Whatever enchantment the peddler used to make the produce look fresh falls away, and everything on the counter wilts slightly. It isn’t much of a con - everything is edible, it’s not as if Sazed paid for garbage - but it’s not even close to the quality Taako demands for the show. 

“What I mean is,” Taako clarifies, “If someone wants something from you, consider why. If you can guess the reason, you’ve got the advantage.”

Sazed isn’t sure he understands the advice, but he doesn’t want to prolong the moment and his own embarrassment. He gathers the produce back into the basket and puts the mostly-fine food in their own stores. It’s fine, he thinks. He’ll have more chances to prove himself.

News travels fast in a small town, and rumors travel faster. It’s no time at all before everyone in the small community has decided on what really happened to old Walter and why his wife was carted away by the local militia.

“She never liked him,” Sazed’s mother asserts, well within earshot of her son. He’s only a child, and she assumes a child has no interest in the concerns of adults. He couldn’t possibly understand, he’s still too young. Sazed does his best to encourage that assumption, mildly playing with his toys with no indication that he’s listening. “You could tell, couldn’t you, just by the way she talked to him in public. And a hearty man like Walter getting sick like that? I always thought something about that smelled.”

One of the other adults at the table leaned in closer. They glanced at Sazed, and spoke in a whisper that was almost at normal speaking volume. “It was arsenic, I heard. Slipped a little in his food to make him sick. She might’ve gotten away with it if she hadn’t used a little too much that last time.”

For the little boy sitting on the floor, playing a quiet game and listening, that was the part that stuck. Just a little is okay. Just a little arsenic only makes someone sick.

The show was stunning, the audience was full, they have money to keep them going for months and the promise of success in every surrounding town for miles. But Taako still sits at the table and stares into the middle distance as if none of it means anything. He’s smiling and it’s an empty expression. There’s a bottle of wine next to him, and he hasn’t even bothered opening it.

Sometimes Sazed wants to ask Taako about what he’s looking for. If it’s ambition driving him, Sazed doesn’t think that Taako will ever be satisfied. Maybe that’s just the nature of success, to always want more. He doesn’t know that he’s ever seen Taako actually happy.

Sazed thinks, maybe, he’s starting to understand the dissatisfaction. There’s a restlessness building up in him with the surety that the show could be more - would be more - if he was just given a chance to be a part of it. The feeling bleeds into everything else until even the parts he used to enjoy have soured, and it’s all he ever thinks about.

He wants more. The more he wants, it seems, the less likely he is to have anything.

He’s about to retreat to his own cot because someone should get some sleep and Taako isn’t going to when he looks like that, when he hears Taako say something. Not necessarily to him, not necessarily to anyone, but Sazed is curious enough to hear him out.

“It’s fucked up.” There’s a long pause. Sazed thinks that might be it, but Taako continues. “How you can think you want something, work so hard to get it, and it’s not even close. A fucking joke.”

Taako doesn’t say anything else. Sazed goes to bed, and a couple of hours later he hears Taako get up and go to his own cot. 

Sazed doesn’t think he’s asking too much. Of course he wants to be a part of things - a bigger part of things. He wants the admiring stares of the audience, the smiles and cheers. He wants to impress Taako, as impossible as that sounds. He wants a chance. 

But Taako is always preoccupied, and so Sazed thinks, maybe it’s time to make his chance.

He visits the apothecary, and the old man behind the counter raises an eyebrow when he tells the man what he’s looking for. “What d’ya need arsenic for?” The man’s expression doesn't give anything away, and Sazed shifts nervously.

“Do you ask all of your customers what they're going to do with what they buy? What does it matter? What do people ever buy arsenic for?” He’ll be two towns away before he’s going to use it. The man won’t be able to put anything together even if Sazed does answer his questions.

The man hums in consideration, examines his stock, and hands over a small bottle. “This should do the trick, then.” And before the man can get a better look at him than he already has, Sazed leaves.

Sazed keeps checking his pocket on his way back to their camp, just to make sure the bottle is still there. The feeling of the glass makes the whole thing more real. He’s going to go through with it, and the tiny weight in his pocket is proof.

He wishes the little flutters of nerves would settle down. It's a good plan. It's a solid plan. A little sneaky, but completely harmless. He’ll slip a little of the arsenic into Taako’s food, just enough to make him sick. It has to be onstage, Taako has to be embarrassed, otherwise he'd power through it to do the show anyway. And then, of course, Taako will have to pay attention. Sazed will finish the show, it'll be obvious that he can handle the stage, and what's more, Taako will know that he's dependable in an emergency.

Sazed takes a deep breath and taps the bottle in his pocket again. It's all about to change for him. He's going after everything he wants.

He hides the arsenic in the chicken.

He watches from the side of the stage for his opportunity.

He sees Taako take a bite. He sees the way Taako’s face changes.

Everything falls to pieces.

It must have been the apothecary, Sazed decides weeks later in a dark tavern, hidden away in the corner. Rule number fucking one - know who your product comes from. It wasn’t arsenic in that bottle. The man guessed what Sazed wanted to do with it, and he guessed wrong, and then Sazed had everything that he wanted. 

He doesn’t want any of it.

The show died with Taako. Sazed could’ve repainted the side of the stagecoach, would’ve had a head start of an existing audience, but. He can’t imagine standing on that stage. He’s sure all he’ll hear is Taako’s voice, all he’ll see is the way Taako did everything better. He doesn’t want a cooking show. He never wanted a fucking cooking show. Sazed isn’t sure he knows what he wanted.

He doesn’t have anything now. He burned everything that was left. Sazed put everything into the stagecoach, every last hint or reminder of what he did, and he set fire to it and he stared at it as if ridding himself of the evidence would somehow relieve the panic and guilt swirling in his chest. It didn’t work; nothing has. He feels as if the fire is still licking at his heels everywhere he walks, the burning tracks outlining exactly what he’s guilty of to everyone he passes.

Sazed takes another drink of the awful beer in front of him. He came to the tavern because of a job offer, but he’d rather just stay where he is. For the first time since the fire he feels concealed; for once he doesn't feel like someone is watching him from just out of sight.

Sazed is here to meet someone though, and before he can make any attempt to slip away because of second thoughts she's spotted him from across the room. She's a tall orc woman who looks like she could break most of the other people in the tavern in half if she was so inclined, and it's with relief that Sazed observes her relatively friendly expression. She sits down at the table across from him. “So, you're the chef?”

It's a horrible idea, but when the ad for the position fell into his lap, he may have… fudged his skills somewhat. He knows enough, and he hopes that a different kitchen will clear away the possibility of ghosts. “I'm the chef, yeah.” He is now, isn't he? Now that there's no one else to tell him differently. He tries not to think about it like that, like the accident might have been something he wanted. He can't let himself think about that.

“Great. Are you ready to go? Maybe now? This is a really weird hiring process for us - boss lady wants to talk to you personally. She'd rather interview you on-site.”

Sazed hesitates. He doesn't relish the thought of going anywhere with a stranger, but it's either make an attempt at moving forward or keep running. It's an opportunity, there for him to take.

Taako didn't have any family. He didn't have any friends. No one to wonder what happened to him. There is no one looking for Sazed.

The moon is fake, there are wars that the world has forgotten, and Sazed can't process any of it around the expression of the woman who calls herself Madam Director as she stares down at him.

Deep, endless, boundless grief.

“I won’t ask why. Frankly, you don’t have an explanation that I want to hear.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sure you can guess why I’ve brought you here.”

He doesn’t have an answer. He thinks he knew from the moment it happened that there would price for what he did, eventually, from someone. She continues.

“It’s not my place to pass judgement, or to decide how to punish you. Much as I might like to. But you’re all that I can offer her, once we find her. In place of him.”

He doesn’t say it while he’s being carried away to wherever they’re going to keep him, Sazed doesn’t say anything at all because there’s nothing to say, but he wonders if this woman and Taako had been looking for the same thing.