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inkberrry · 3 years

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Dim the Lights and Shut Your Eyes

A little Mass Effect fic, featuring Rosie Shepard and Kaidan Alenko. Read below or on ao3 @ inkberrry

Summary: Rosie Shepard is just finishing up in the medbay when Kaidan walks in. Instead of leaving him on his own, she stays with him through the worst of his migraine.

Rosie winced as she pulled the bandage from her arm. The tacky medical glue stuck to her skin, tugging at her hair and ripping out as much as it left behind. Beneath the layer of dried blood and quickly applied disinfectant her arm was raw and inflamed, angry where it had been torn open and nearly shredded.

Her barriers protected from the worst of a spray of bullets, but they didn’t hold up against the razor edged claws of the racchni. The creatures had sliced through her light armor like silk, finding their mark beneath. The pain had been blinding, and the warm spread of blood alarming in the chilled halls of the Noveria institute.

Now, safely back on the Normandy, Rosie had time to care for her wound properly. She twisted the cap from a tube of medigel and applied a liberal amount to her arm, mindful of the still tender and jagged incision. Relief was instant and welcome, and she sighed at the sudden release from pain. The wound would take time to heal, but the medication within the gel would speed along the recovery and lessen any discomfort.

Rosie took a moment to re-wrap her arm, this time with soft, cloth bandages unlikely to stick. Deeming her work done, she replaced the spare gel and bandages to their proper places. While doing so the soft mechanical whoosh of the medbay door opening caught her attention, and she turned to the sound.

“Commander.” Kaidan hesitated at the open door, changed from his tactical gear to something more comfortable, just as Rosie had done. He gave her a slight nod, though his expression read surprise. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Oh no, of course not.” Rosie smiled in welcome, then leaned back against the supply cabinet. “Come on in.”

Kaidan stepped forward, the door quietly shutting behind him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes scanning the otherwise empty medbay before settling again on Rosie.

“How’s the arm?” He asked, mimicking where her wound was by touching his own arm.

“Better now,” Rosie answered, and waved her arm slightly before letting it hang comfortable at her side. She pursed her lips together as she looked back at Kaidan, thoughtful. She was almost certain she was the only one who had suffered an injury on Noveria, yet here he was in the medbay.

“Did you need something in here?” She asked. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

A brief wave of discomfort marred Kaidan’s face, but was wiped away when he shook his head.

“Thankfully, no. I was just, ah… looking for some pain killers.”

Rosie’s posture softened, and she breathed out a knowing sigh.

“Headache?”

The discomfort was back as Kaiden nodded, and Rosie noticed the quick tightening of his hand into a fist before releasing. He hid the pain well, but not quite well enough to escape her practiced view.

“Yeah,” he replied, and managed a strained chuckle. “My implant seemed to like the cold about as much as Garrus did.”

Frowning, Rosie pushed herself from the cabinet and pointed to one of the empty beds lining the far wall.

“Okay Lieutenant,” she started, her voice taking on just a hint of the authority she used in the field. “Lay down and let me get what you need.”

Kaidan chucked again, this time more earnestly. “Is that an order, Commander?”

“You bet it is. Go on, lay down.”

Rosie stood and waited while Kaidan did as she asked. He settled onto the bed, head propped on the pillows and legs pulled up to rest. She had worked with the lieutenant for some time now, and as of yet he’d never shown any hesitation against her orders. He didn’t seem apt to start now, though despite what she’d said this was far from a command.

“Shouldn’t Doctor Chakawas be doing this, not the first human Spectre?” Kaidan asked just as Rosie turned back to the cabinet doors and opened them.

Cocking her head over her shoulder, Rosie fixed Kaidan with a playful grin. “She’s off duty. Why, are you afraid I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Kaidan opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again without answering. Rosie could sense uncertainty, like he was caught between teasing her back and remaining professional. To save him from any further anxiety she waved away the thought and turned back to the cabinet.

“Relax, Kaidan,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ve tended to a lot of wounded before. I grew up on Alliance ships, remember?”

Rosie knew well enough how to care for most minor injuries, and how to find the right medications if they were simple enough. She rummaged carefully through the shelves in the cabinet, pushing aside antibiotics and more specialized pills. When she found what she wanted she smiled to herself and poured two tablets into her palm.

Closing the cabinet for a second time, she headed to the sink and filled a nearby cup with water before walking to the bed Kaidan rested on. She held out her hand with the pills and set the water on the beside table.

“Take these, drink this whole glass, and close your eyes,” she said, satisfied only when Kaidan reached for the pills and took them from her hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and popped the medicine into his mouth.

While he worked on the water, Rosie walked to the room control panel on the wall and dimmed the lights until only a faint, cool glow emitted from the various machines spread about. The constant electronic hum of the overhead lights faded out entirely, leaving the two of them in soft silence and long shadows.

After her eyes adjusted, she made her way back to the bed. With a small hop she perched herself on the edge of the mattress next to Kaidan, his body close enough for her to feel the comfortable heat coming off of it.

“Better?” she asked, her voice quiet out of habit in the low light.

Kaidan nodded, his eyes now closed. Rosie took the opportunity to watch the lines of pain on his face smooth over, replaced by soft relaxation. His chest, broad beneath the loose tee shirt he wore, rose and fell steady, evening out as he lay still. In the quiet Rosie could hear the intake of his breath and the long exhales, slowly turning into a lullaby she herself felt the pull of.

He was a handsome man, she realized, not for the first time. This time, though, he wasn’t fighting for his life or wrestling with the stress of their missions. He was simply existing, safe and calm in the dim room. Rosie’s heart tugged in her chest while she sat by his side, a sensation that surprised her as much as it thrilled her.

“Do you take care of all your crew this well?” Kaidan’s bemused voice roused Rosie from her daydreams, his lips moving slowly and deliberately with his words.

“Only those that need it,” she laughed, keeping to herself that at that moment she would have done anything to make sure Kaidan was comfortable and at peace.

Kaidan’s lips curved to a slight smile at her response, then set again into comfort. The room was still for a while, Rosie content to let Kaidan rest and recover. Her thoughts wandered, traveling back in her memory to times spent much like this, except her role reversed.

“I used to get headaches, too,” she confessed softly. “When I first got my implant. My parents would send me to the medbay and this is what the officer there would do. They stopped after a few months though.”

Rosie frowned again, this time at the memory of the pain her biotic implant had caused. She couldn’t imagine a life where that same pain returned time and again.

“Lucky,” Kaidan said, and there was no contempt or jealousy in his voice. “Were you young when you got yours?”

“Eleven.” Rosie felt herself smiling in spite of the somber topic, her thoughts turning cheerful again. “My parents figured it was time when I used to my bionics to keep flinging stuffed animals across the room at my brothers.”

Kaidan’s chest rose sharply when he laughed, the deep rumbling replacing the silence of the room.

“Heh. Sure is hard to imagine you doing that.”

“Oh? Just you wait then, I've got a stuffed hanar in my cabin. You better watch your back.”

Still laughing, Kaidan opened one eye and glanced sidelong at Rosie. “I'll do my best, Commander.”

The use of her title caught Rosie off guard. Right now she didn’t feel like the Commander, and she didn’t want to, either. She wanted just to be Rosie, and for the man laying on the bed next to her to be nothing but just who he was.

“You can drop the titles when it’s just us,” she said, and playfully nudged Kaidan’s shoulder. “Especially when we’re alone in the dark.”

Color rose along Kaidan’s cheeks, partially hidden by the growing stubble.

“Uh, right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Quiet filled the room again, and Rosie watched the faint blush fade from Kaidan’s face as he once again relaxed. Soon her responsibilities would come searching for her, and she admitted to herself she had spent enough time here at Kaidan’s side.

She was about to get up when his voice rang out again, stopping her.

“Rosie?”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks,” Kaidan said, and when Rosie looked down at him his eyes were open and fixed on her. Heat built in her cheeks, too, and she quickly fluttered her eyes to her hands before meeting Kaidan’s gaze again. “Means a lot to me that you took the time to sit here.”

Rosie smiled, the heat from her cheeks traveling through her to warm her chest. “Anytime, Kaidan. You know where to find me if you ever need anything.”

With that she slipped off the bed, her feet planting on the solid tiled floor. Without thought she reached towards Kaidan and brushed back a section of dark hair, smoothing it towards his neck. His head relaxed further into the downy pillow, and he again shut his eyes.

“Now get some real rest,” Rosie said, and finally stepped away from the bed. “I need you one hundred percent when we get to Virmire.”

Kaidan’s only answer was a returning smile, and Rosie left the medbay to the sound of Kaidan’s gentle sighing behind her.

#mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #shenko #mass effect fic #kaidan alenko #femshep #my writing #oc: rosie shepard

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generallybrontidefeelings · 3 years

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He Smells like Petrichor

Pairing: Din Djarin/female reader

Summary: The Mandalorian gets protective when you burn your hands.

Warnings: T, talks of burns (blisters, nothing gory), swearing, fluff, hand bandaging, hand holding-ish

“Listen,” you tell the kid after scooping him up maybe the tenth time that day, “either you stay with me and play with your ball and your bath only lasts five minutes-” he cocks his big ears at you “-or I let you soak in a pot until you’re stew.”

He gives you an annoyed gurgle and sinks a little in his robes. He’s got mud halfway up his body from running through grime, but he’ll sleep great tonight. And better yet, as soon as he’s plopped in a cooking pot with some warm water and a handful of pollywogs you’d found in a nearby stream, he forgets how upset he was and splashes happily. You settle on the ground with the cook pot full of baby between your outstretched legs.

You’re going to sleep great too tonight. Before the kid was awake, you took the afternoon to repair bad paneling and poorly functioning machinery in the Razor Crest. The planet you’re on is humid, icky. The Mandalorian’s cast off gloves you’d found under the cockpit dashboard hadn’t been any help while welding, so you’d risked handling the metal bare and ended up with first degree burns and a dozen blisters.

You lift your shiny hands out of the water to inspect the burns running down the edges of your palms. “Your dad is going to be so annoyed,” you tell the kid. He’s busy and ignores you.

You blow air out your mouth in exasperation and the baby mimics the sound. You set your hands back in the water and watch him try to catch the wriggling critters.

Putting the paneling back up had been tenderly done. Even holding the child was irritating your hands after a few minutes of respite, which wasn’t good, because...that’s your whole job. Hold the kid. Technically you didn’t have to do any paneling work or write a ship schematic or cook. You do that because the baby sleeps twelve hours a day and hyperspace is boring, and Mando doesn’t talk to you that much except when he has too.

It’s really talking at you .

“You’re much better company,” you tell the kid. He really does not care about you right now, so you take the chance to cup some water in your hands and run it down the back of his head. He grumbles unhappily when some runs down into his eyes, but quickly rubs it out. His bath water is cooling rapidly but you’re reluctant to dump it out, especially when it’s the first time in hours your hands haven’t ached.

There’s a soft contentment in your chest watching the kid float on his back and chew on a pollywog. Normally you’d be terrified to be out in the bush alone, but the Razor Crest stands guard behind you, and Mando is the scariest thing in the woods right now, so you’re happy to let the baby play a while longer and just listen to the dusk noises of this planet. Water noises from the stream you’d gathered the pollywogs from bubble along peacefully. A bird that looks similar to a double-horned heron from your homeworld sits in a tree nearby and makes a grating sound in its throat, the vibrations pass through your body. You keep your ears open and blaster nearby in case that bird decides it is a predator. You aren’t a bit surprised when it takes off suddenly, and Mando appears on the other side of the clearing. He’s got his bounty trailing behind him sullenly. Probably one of the few resigned to their icy fate.

“Time to go, kid,” you say and gently pull him out of the steel pot and swaddle him snugly. You try to keep him secure with your fingertips instead of your whole hand. You kick the pot over to dump it out and follow Mando up the ramp to get ready for flight. You squeeze past him to the hatch ladder, and try to cover up the sound of hiss that escapes you climbing the ladder rungs one handed, and injured. Baby in your lap, you start the flight check and set the navigation. The engines turn over gleefully as you urge them to take off.

He’ll take a couple hours to clean up and go over his weapons.

Maybe he just won’t notice.

It’s fine.

.....

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. You choke on your caf, but manage to swallow it down before spitting all over the controls.

It’s been quiet for hours and you were happily snuggling the baby against you as he slept curled in the v-shape you’ve created.

Peeking over your shoulder, sure enough, Mando is there. Taking up the whole doorway.

“Nothing.” You take your feet off the dashboard and sit up straighter. Go away, you will.

“Yeah?” he asks. You let out a yelp when he snatches one of your wrists and turns your palm over to inspect it. “ What is this ?” You swallow hard. He almost sounds mad.

You purse your lips and meet his gaze through the slit in his visor. Slowly, you try to rescue your wrist but his grip only gets tighter. “It is a first degree burn from a welding gun.”

With a sigh he says “stay here.” He drops your wrist and disappears down the hatch. You look at your hand. It isn’t really that bad. You’ve had worse from heating lines and power grids keeping the greenhouses warm back home. A scar from a live wire graces your thigh. These won’t be your last burns. It's a lifelong hazard when you work with electronics.

He comes back at last with a medkit and the cradle, and takes the baby from you.

“Show me your hands,” he orders. Sheepishly you swivel in the pilot chair and present them to him. He sighs audibly.

“You know where I’m from we call this ‘sign of a job well done’,” you try to joke. The helmet shakes a little as he sets your hands on his knees palms up and starts applying bacta directly to the abrasions.

“I call it ‘inability to mind your surroundings,’” he says back. You almost snort at the sarcasm in his voice. “How did you get these?” He presses a thumb into one scarlet mark and you snatch your hand back hissing sharply. He waits patiently for you to return it.

“I was opening some panels on the outer hull, then welding them back on. The sun heated up the metal, my hands were slipping…” you trail off.

“A blueprint isn’t worth burning your hands over,” he answers. “As much as I appreciate you trying, I’d prefer if you stayed uninjured.”

Your lip turns up in a half-smile. He holds gauze against your palms and the heels of your hands. One of your thumbs has the worst singe mark, near blistering, and he spends extra time padding it with cotton before wrapping it in medical tape. The engines rumble softly as they sling you sub-light through the system's gravity well.

“We’ll land in the next system in a few hours. I’m changing these before I go,” he tells you.

“I could do it myself, you know?” He tilts his helmet up but keeps applying the tape to your left hand.

“You won’t. Then you’ll blister, then I’ll have to listen to you be in pain for weeks.” He releases your left hand and moves to your right. “This way I know it gets done.”

You aren’t sure what to say. You nod in affirmation and let him finish what he started.

.....

“This moon is dangerous,” he says while sandwiching your hands between his and around a cooling pack. “Don’t open the hull for anything.”

You yawn into your shoulder but nod.

Mando woke you up with a shake on your ankle to shower and get dressed so he could change your bandages before he left for a quarry. You stand bleary eyed and in need of caf in your soft clothes while he has a full munition belt and rifle strapped to his back.

You’d set down on the moon of a dry gas giant less than an hour ago, and already he was ready to move. You were the only thing keeping him from going, and now you see why perhaps he’d like to stop injuring yourself.

“How long will you be out there?” you ask. He releases your hands and takes the cool pack away, and quickly pads your palms with clean gauze.

“The fumes outside are toxic. An oxygen pack should keep me going for one day.” He motions for your other hand and repeats his ministrations. “When I leave the hull will depressurize and I only have the one O-two pack. You’ll have to stay in the cockpit until we can set down one moon over and pressurize with cleaner air.”

“What about you?” you ask. “You’ll need clean air if it takes long.”

“It won’t.” He says it like it’s obvious. This bounty isn’t even worth giving a thought of his safety over. The surety sends a jolt down your spine.

“Copy that,” you say. Probably a little too quietly to give the impression of listening.

.....

He’s back in six hours flat. The quarry is slung over his shoulders like a sack of rocks.

The baby is overly excited at his return and taps the glass of the viewport. The moon’s surface is gusty and Mando probably can’t hear the child over the howling wind and his O-two pack.

You’re already ready to fly by the time the hull closes and the comm beeps at you.

“I’m here,” you say.

“ Fly to the third innermost moon.” He says it without preamble.

“Copy.”

You set down near a lake, or really surrounded by lakes. This moon is covered in water, a huge contrast to its dusty cousin. You hear the hull clunk open and you scoop the kid up-mindful of your hands-to go visit his dad. When you open the cockpit hatch you almost vomit.

“What the hell is that smell?” you yell down. Even the kid wrinkles his little nose. “Is that you or the outside air?” There’s no way in this good universe you’re going down there now.

He appears, looking up into the cockpit hatch. Instead of reaching for him, the baby shrinks back into your chest.

“It’s me,” he says simply. “That moon is covered in sulfur deposits.”

“Maybe you should, I dunno, shower? This place is safe right? We can set down for a while?” You’re rambling but good maker you refuse to take off with him smelling like that. “You fucking reek, Mando.”

His shoulders rise dramatically. “What the hell,” he says tiredly. You hand the baby down to Mando who holds the poor kid away from his body in the tight space as you clamor down the ladder, trying to use the less-blistered hand. He cocks his helmet at you knowingly.

“I need to change those bandages-” he starts and you snatch the kid before he can finish.

“ No. Shower first. Bandages later. You’re not touching me like that,” you say and start down the ramp before turning around. “In fact,” you whip around. You swear the metal mask shifts slightly to his moods because he looks exasperated. “Throw your flight suit and clothes out. I’m soaking them.”

“Not a ch-”

“Mando the scent has sunk into your clothes. It all has to be cleaned,” you reason. Glancing at the water surrounding the Razor Crest, there’s plenty of soft pebbles and spring water to scrub the sulfur out. “Keep the armor, just toss the soft stuff out.”

He doesn’t move for a few breaths. A breeze floats across your face. Finally, he lets his head hang back and you think grumbles out “fine” before turning away from you and starts undoing the complicated holds on the beskar.

Moss covers the ground everywhere you look, so delicate you wonder if stepping on it would suffocate it. Delicate pink foliage and yellow-green plants poke out of the hundreds of water pools. You haven't’ seen any life forms yet, but the baby seems happy just to walk around the Crest and explore. There are no forests as far as you can see, only grasslands and springs. You could walk barefoot for miles.

Every world you stop on is incredible. Pamarthe is home, and it always will be, but traveling with Mando and the kid, getting to make progressive adjustments and have a real project to work on, running your hand on the sleek side of the Razor Crest and seeing the wind ripple the wild flora is home too.

Back at the hatch a pile of dark clothes sit balled together, you pick them up just as you hear the fresher door snap shut. Mando only has two flight suits, so that means-

-you blush furiously and take the clothes to the nearest pool of water and start soaking the wretched smell out of them.

He spends what feels like three showers worth of time in the fresher before you rap against the door.

“What?” he calls out. His voice sounds different without the filter, and you’d never bother him right now except-

“Pass me a bar of soap.”

The door cracks open and the end of a soap bar wiggles out at your eye level. “Scat,” you hear him say, and you grab the soap and run away before your fingers are crushed.

The kid is napping in his cradle. You’ve scrubbed the flight suit, flak vest, and other garments as best you could and have them laid on the ramp drying in the star’s light.

“My armor will need to be sanitized. I can do it once we’re in hyperspace,” he says behind you. You can tell he has his helmet back on. His voice is raspier through the high pass filter.

“Do you want to leave now?” you say. You’re still staring at the endless mossy plains, the glassy waters. The fresh water had felt so good on your heated hands. You just held them under the surface for a while and breathed.

“Once these are dry,” he says nudging his clothes. He’s got his boots on, and when you glance up at him, he’s in a clean flight suit but without any armor. You really had thought his broadness was all due to the armor, but looking up at him, you can tell it’s him. He’d be broad without pauldrons. You tap his thigh with the soap bar and he takes it from you with a gloveless hand.

“Stay here,” he says. You nod and wait. He’s clunking back down the ramp with a medkit and sits down next to you. He’s already so quiet in the armor, you hope this armor-less phase doesn’t last, otherwise you’ll never be able to predict him. Not that you have so far. But it’s the principle.

You set your left hand on his knee without prompting. His hands are warmer than you expected. He just got out of the shower, hot water, dummy. He applies the bacta and new gauze, helmet down, concentrating.

“No infection,” he declares and gestures for the right hand. You give it up easily. He keeps working, checking between your fingers for anything he missed.

“It’s relaxing,” he says suddenly, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. You stare at the side of his helmet. “I’ve been caring for the kid for months. It’s...settling, after a hunt,” he explains. His voice sounds almost...regretful. He misses it.

Leaning over a fraction you bump his shoulder with yours.

“Thank you,” you say.

He doesn’t respond. But he takes extra care padding the carmine blisters pearling like asteroid’s down your thumb.

chapter 1 chapter 3

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #din djarin/female reader #baby yoda

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comfy-whumpee · 3 years

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Clare

Northlight demanded that I write this piece for April. @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @paingeneering, @whumpywhumper

Cool spring breeze flows through an open paved plaza in the middle of a university. It’s the kind of place where people assume you are just in the middle of a difficult study period if you sit in the middle of the grass in an old coat and eat pasta with your fingers. A good spot for Northlight, without many curious eyes, especially with the book they are pretending to read in front of them.

The pasta is cold but well made, with the strange uniform flavour that food of this time often has, bland cheese and weak herbs with chunks tomato poorly integrated into the too-smooth sauce. It is quick to eat, though, and goes down easy with the paper cup of water they’ve taken from the library along with the book.

As they look out over the rest of the clearing between buildings, they notice someone else sitting on a bench. They look young, with a halo of Afro hair and their nose deep in an electronic device of some kind.

They’re swaying. Back and forth on their bench, a slight motion like reeds in a summer breeze. Like a bobbing leaf on the river of time.

Northlight licks their fingers and gets up, leaving the tub and their water on the grass. They cross the flat stones of the plaza and sit down on the fake-wood bench.

“Why are you swaying, stranger?” they ask, when the student glances their way.

The stranger has dark eyes and a shy smile. They fix their gaze on Northlight’s brow. Their voice is like old paper against fingertips. “Because it feels nice.”

Northlight feels themself tipping to the side, a longer swing than the stranger’s, like a pendulum catching itself before it touches the sides of the clock. They can’t help it. Just talking about the motion makes their stillness feel cold and heavy.

A spark lights in the stranger’s eyes as they tracked the motion. Their smile pulls into itself, but Northlight recognises it as a happy motion. “I saw you doing it on the grass.”

They nod. They try not to look too hopeful. “It feels like the world moves with a current and I have to move with it,” they offer tentatively.

Their heart sinks as they see a lack of understanding deep in the stranger’s eyes. “That’s a pretty way to put it,” they offer politely. “Oh, um, my name’s Clare.”

They hesitate. Then they smile and nod. “I’m Aurora.”

“Nice to meet you. I haven’t seen you at the Network.”

Of course, they think Northlight is a student here. They plead ignorance. “The Network?”

“You know, for autism? It’s part of the DSN.”

Northlight blinks, mind searching for connections and finding none. “Or-tism?”

The stranger blinks back, though they’re looking out over the plaza. “You don’t know what it is?”

Northlight shakes their head, finding a ragged end of their hair and tugging it nervously. Have they given themself away as someone who doesn’t belong?

“It’s like… You know stimming. Swaying, I like that one too, and I um, I have,” suddenly Clare digs into their pocket and pulls out a strange, marshmallow-looking thing shaped like a spherical frog. “A squishy.” They pinch it between finger and thumb, and the frog distends. “Helps with, makes me feel less stressed.” They reach into another pocket in their jacket. “And this, this is my favourite, it’s for happy um, happy feelings. You can shake it and it froths up like this, and it looks pretty and makes a good sound and then you can listen to the bubbles pop.”

They shake the little jar and Northlight watches with wide eyes as a galaxy of glitter swirls around and disappears into thin white bubbles.

Clare has treasures. They reach into their inner pocket and take out Patience Penrose’s hair tie, winding it around a finger to feel the pressure, letting the stranger see.

“That’s cool,” Clare enthuses. “I had one when I was younger that was like a cat’s cradle, I would use it all day while watching things and it kept my hands busy, otherwise I’d click my pen nonstop. But I have a clicky thing now, I don’t really use it because I have my frog. Do you like clicky things? Here, it’s, um, oh here it is.”

They produce a small, round toy with a smaller circle in the middle. Northlight takes it and presses it down with a thumb, and it depresses with a silent but tangible snap.

They lift their thumb and it lifts too. They press down again.

“Keep – keep it,” Clare says. “I like asking about synaesthesia, do you – do you have that? Like when all the words have colours, or something else where you can see things or feel things that other people can’t…”

“Voices have feelings,” Northlight says. They know this one. “Nobody else can tell but they do.” They pause, then add, “Yours feels like paper. It’s nice.”

Clare’s mouth twist-smiles again. “Yeah, like that. I don’t know, um, if you are autistic, but I like talking about it, if you…if you want to hear more?”

A story offered is a rare and precious gift. Northlight tucks their new treasure into their pocket. “Yes, please.”

Clare isn’t a time traveller, but maybe... Maybe they have found someone like them after all.

#fluff #it's just some brain-affirming fluff for NL #northlight #my fic #clare #it's autism acceptance month

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logicaemetus · 4 years

Text

dark and stormy.

Summary: Virgil panics during a thunderstorm. Logan helps. Characters: Virgil and Logan (platonic, but read it how you want) Words: 1,765 Content warnings: panic attack, intrusive thoughts, brief mentions / descriptions of impractical death

Notes: guess who hates thunderstorms? me! guess who wrote this to cope while a big ol thunderstorm raged outside and flooded our basement with 3 inches of water? me!!!

---

Irony of ironies, Virgil thought bitterly, burying his face into his knees and flinching as another crash of thunder shuddered through the house. He pulled the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter, trying to be as inside himself as possible. Of course the guy who literally calls himself a stormy night is scared of actual stormy nights. It’s your logo, for goodness’ sake.

He could practically hear Logan’s voice in his head pointing out his inconsistencies. He. is. odd. Virgil was beginning to feel tired of being a walking contradiction.

Rain slapped against the side of the house in waves. He tried not to think about the windows shuddering and shattering under the force of it, rain pouring into the house, flooding the room from floor to ceiling with glass and water and blood, drowning them all. If he’d had his headphones with him, he could try to block everything out with music. But those were in his room, and he couldn’t get himself to move from his huddled-up spot on the living room floor.

Ignoring the incessant beating against the windows -- They can’t break, they’re built for this. Right? When was the last time we checked them? How do we know this house passes safety regulations? -- Virgil tried to breathe and focus on the feeling of his hoodie under his fingers. He pinched at the pattern, scowling at the lightning bolts dimly illuminated by the flickers outside.

He supposed, when he’d first chosen his logo, that maybe he could pull a Batman. Get over his fear by becoming it, in a way.

Clearly, his plan had worked about as well as his attempts to force Remus out of the mindspace. Fat lot of good that did him! his mind offered cheerfully, echoing the possum man himself.

Oh, god. The last thing he needed was to accidentally summon another nightmare in the middle of this one. His stomach roiled.

Another flash and a near-instantaneous boom jammed his thoughts to a halt. Virgil distantly registered a pain in his arm and realized a few moments later that he’d shoved his mouth full of sweater-sleeve to stifle his own yell. That lightning strike couldn’t have been more than half a mile away. Why were there so many things in the world that could kill Thomas!?

“Virgil?”

He almost didn’t hear the voice through the pounding of blood in his ears. He cringed; the thought of any of the others finding him in this state made him want to sink through the floor. He could sink through the floor, if he wasn’t jumpier than a horse at a firecracker convention.

Footsteps approached. Virgil began to pick up his head to see who it was before another bright flash of light made him recoil instinctively and hiss. Great. Now he was frightened, embarrassed, and rude. A package deal.

“Virge?” the voice came again, more gently. “It’s just me, Logan. I came down to ensure any non-vital electronics are unplugged in case there is a power surge.” There was a slight pause, and then Virgil felt the other crouch beside him. “Are you... alright?”

Virgil wanted to bite out a what does it look like, Lo? but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He settled for gritting out a sound of distress and shaking his head.

Logan’s presence hovered, carefully, just within reach but without making contact. A feeling of gratitude bubbled through Virgil’s frazzled brain; he didn’t think he could handle being touched without warning.

“How may I assist you?”

As if on cue, another crack of thunder set his nerves jumping. He swung a hand out, reaching for Logan and finding purchase on what felt like an arm. To his deep relief, Logan didn’t flinch. He was solid, steady. A much-needed contrast to the thrumming, prickling energy under Virgil’s skin.

“Room,” Virgil choked out. “Need to get to a... a room.”

“Certainly. Your room? Or perhaps Patton’s?”

Virgil hesitated. If he couldn’t calm down here, he wouldn’t fare much better in his own room. Plus Logan wouldn’t be able to stay there, and (he realized, with another jolt of embarrassment) he didn’t want to be alone. And as much as he adored Patton, he would fuss over him, and the last thing he needed was for anyone to make a bigger deal of this than it needed to be.

“Yours.”

“Oh.” A faint note of surprise coloured Logan’s voice. “Alright. Can you stand?”

Another sound of protest left Virgil’s throat.

“Very well. We can sink out together.”

“Can’t. I tried.” Virgil winced at himself. Leave it to me to ask for help and then reject every possible solution.

“I am here to help you try again,” Logan said calmly, his voice nudging aside his negative thoughts. “If you hold onto me, I can provide the grounding you need to sink and rise up. Is that alright with you?”

Virgil took a steadying breath. Ignore the rain. Ignore the wind. Ignore the possibility of being tossed around like a rag doll by the elements, being fried to death, being picked up and flung and crumpled against the wall with a sickening crunch. Ignore ignore ignore. “Sure.”

“Alright. Don’t be alarmed, I am merely repositioning myself.”

Virgil felt Logan move, and he fought back a pathetic whimper attempting to crawl up his throat. Blessedly, the other side didn’t make any attempt to remove his hand from his arm. In a moment, the two were facing one another. Well-- Logan was facing him, cross-legged. Virgil still had his face jammed into his knees.

“Give me your other hand, please.”

Reluctantly, Virgil relinquished his white-knuckled grip on his leg and reached out. A cool hand took his.

“Very good. Now hold onto my arms, like this--” Logan’s hands slid forward and wrapped around Virgil’s elbows, and he mirrored the motion. Self-consciously, he noted the contrast between the warm of the other’s skin and his own clammy hands. He tried not to grip too hard. There was no way Logan couldn’t feel him trembling and flinching, but if he noticed he gave no indication. That bubbling gratitude returned in Virgil’s chest, countering some of the fizz in his lungs.

“Now, you don’t have to look at me. I will speak to you, and you only need to focus on my voice and maintain your hold on me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm.”

“Excellent. Take a deep breath... now out... there we go. Keep that up. Now...”

And Logan began to speak, in a low and steady cadence, about ionization. The intricacies of electrons and how atoms gain or lose them. How it happens during storms, yes, but it is also utilized in fluorescent lamps, scientific equipment, and radiation therapy. As he spoke, his voice seemed to wrap around Virgil’s mind until it came from within, muffling the sounds of the storm. A feeling of calm flowed from Logan’s hands into Virgil’s arms, up into his chest, his stomach, his legs, smoothing out his frayed nerve endings and anchoring him to his own body.

Subatomic particle collision. Heterolytic fission. The formula for quasi-static tunnel ionization. Virgil couldn’t follow a word, but he felt himself carried by the calm of it. His grip on Logan tightened as the ground dissolved from underneath them. They drifted through nothing, and the only thought in his head was that singular voice, weaving a tale of atomic stabilization.

“...where W is the time-dependent energy difference between the two dressed states, and if you open your eyes now, you will see that we have reached our destination.”

Virgil hadn’t even felt them rise. He dared one eye open, and then the other, taking in the blue hues of Logan’s room. “Woah. Just like that, huh?” He took a breath of crisp, dehumidified air, dispelling the last bit of cloying fear that had taken up residence in his lungs. The room seemed to be soundproof; he couldn’t hear a trace of the storm at all.

“Indeed. How are you feeling now, Virgil?”

His eyes met Logan’s for the first time that night, and he realized he was still clinging to him like a vise. He quickly let go and looked away, reaching up to pull his hood off and fix his hair.

“I’m... better. Thanks. I’m, uhm...” He cleared his throat. “Not great with. Loud. Destructive... things. But, I can breathe now, so... thanks for getting me out of there.” A prickle of shame began to creep up his neck at the thought that Logan practically had to play firefighter to get him out of a non-life-threatening situation. Oh, jeez. And he’d hissed at him. He winced. “Sorry for freaking out on you.”

“There is no need to apologize, Virgil. You were experiencing a great deal of alarm. And I am happy to help. Truly.”

Virgil nodded, and the prickle receded a little bit.

“Now that you are in a relative state of calm,” Logan continued, “would you like to return to your room?”

Virgil silently thanked every painted star in Logan’s room that it was him, not Roman or Patton, who’d found him. He was so chill.

“Actually, if you don’t mind,” he began, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Can I stay here for a bit? I could use the company. And... my room isn’t soundproof.”

Logan smiled softly. “I don’t mind in the slightest. Would it help to talk about what just transpired, or is a distraction preferable?”

“A distraction sounds amazing right now. Actually-- I left my headphones in my room. Do you...?”

“I have an extra pair of noise-cancelling headphones you may use. Or, if you prefer, we could--”

“--share a pair of earbuds and listen to that podcast you were telling me about?”

Logan’s eyes lit up, and Virgil smirked at the way he instantly grew more animated. “I-- yes, if that is-- if you are amenable.”

“I’m down.”

---

Irony of ironies, Virgil thought with amusement, an hour later. The one who’d been most excited to get him into Wolf 359 had been the first to fall asleep, head lolling against his shoulder. Not that he minded.

He leaned his head back against the wall, counting the stars on Logan’s ceiling while the episode finished. He knew he’d probably wake up soon and scold him about the dangers of not sleeping in a real bed, but for now... this was fine.

#virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts virgil #ts logan #analogical #as with most things I write this turned out way longer than I intended and I had no idea how to finish it #but uh. yknow. *yeets my fears onto virgil* have this #no editing we die like men #me write #fics #local emo says debate club blows; attends anyway

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undertalethingems · 4 years

Text

Bark at the Moon Chapter Seventeen: At a Loss for Words

Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Papyrus doesn’t miss his brother’s jokes or pranks or anything, no, of course not...

"Sans! Do you know where my copy of 'Puzzles for Inquiring Minds' went? I can't find it but it must be here somewhere!" Papyrus called, digging through the pile of papers on his bedroom floor. He was finally sorting through the mess he'd left, organizing the scattered blueprints and sketches into much neater piles to be filed away later. But he couldn't imagine where that book had gotten to.

"Sans! Did you hear me? ...Are you even home?"

He sighed, and got up to peer into the living room. Ever since Sans had remembered his shortcut ability, he'd been making good use of it, and Papyrus was never sure where he went. Sans never told him. Not that he could. But, to his mild surprise, Sans was dozing on the couch.

"Sans!"

His brother jolted awake, then looked up at him blearily.

"I need your help finding--wait is that it under the couch?" Papyrus leapt down and slid his hand under, withdrawing the battered puzzle book. "Well, I have no idea how that got there, but I suppose, in a way, you still helped me find it. So. Thank? You?"

Sans merely huffed before settling down to sleep again. Papyrus eyed him, then headed upstairs with his book to file it properly. He slid it into place on the shelf, then sat back with brows furrowed. Something was missing... No, there weren't any empty spots left, so it wasn't a book... He looked over to his table and quickly assessed his action figures--they all seemed to be in place too. His things were in order, so why did he expect something more...?

It was quiet.

Sans would've had a joke about the misplaced book. Papyrus curled his tail around his feet, and shut his eyes. It was fine if Sans didn't want to talk! His various warbles and hoots often got the point across well enough, and it still sounded like him, and he still found ways to joke around even if it wasn't wordplay. It was fine--Papyrus wasn't even sure why he missed hearing his brother's dumb jokes and trolling so much. He'd heard them all, seen that spark in Sans' eye as he thought of them, groaned at the most inane reaches of wordplay countless times. He didn't need to hear them again. But... No, Sans would get his voice back in time, there was no point dwelling on it. He took a deep breath, and went back to organizing the rest of his things, humming to himself to break up the silence.

He surveyed his work, and nodded with satisfaction--his books had been fully rearranged, divided by subject and ordered alphabetically. He'd sorted all his blueprints and schematics into folders, and his action figures were aligned into their current teams. He'd moved the rug to cover the spot he'd burnt--he'd see about getting it replaced soon, but for now it was the best he could do. Everything was clean and orderly, just as it should be. He trotted out and headed downstairs.

"Sans! With my bedroom completely refreshed, we should go out! I want to see if I can find any good carpet in the dump, but who knows what else could be there? It's been so long since we looked, there's bound to be something incredible!"

Sans blinked an eye open to study him, but otherwise made no effort to move.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Papyrus beamed at him, bouncing in place. It seemed to work, because Sans studied him a moment longer, then got up with a yawn, stretched, then hopped to the floor and looked at him expectantly. Well, he wasn't about to let him down. He led the charge out, and glanced back to see Sans was trotting after him dutifully. It was almost like old times, and he took solace in that.

Sans walked closer to him as they passed through Waterfall, and Papyrus noted how he seemed to be scanning every shadow and crevice, eyelights darting. Sans was... nervous? Papyrus slowed his own pace--truth be told, the bottomless chasms and roaring water were setting his instincts off too, but he knew they'd be safe--they'd traveled through here dozens of times, nothing would hurt them. Besides, they were coming up to the wishing room, and Sans had always liked that spot. That would brighten his day--literally.

"Sans! Look up! The stars are especially bright today, look!" he exclaimed when they entered, and darted ahead to take in the sight--a million twinkling crystals embedded in the stone all around them. Their pale light washed everything in a soft blue glow, and he sat to appreciate the atmosphere and give his brother a chance to catch up.

Sans padded up slowly, occasionally glancing at the stars but still looking over his shoulders more until he reached him. Only then did he allow himself to look at the stars for any length of time, but something still made him scan their surroundings every few moments, staring at shadows as if to make sure they wouldn't move. And even when he did glance upwards, he didn't so much look at the stars as look for something--that look of calm, wistful wonder Sans usually wore when he contemplated the universe never appeared.

"Sans? Is something wrong?" Papyrus asked, glancing around himself and wondering if there was something he wasn't picking up on. Nothing looked out of place, nothing smelled wrong--but Sans was acting like they were in danger.

Sans looked up at him briefly, before turning away and uttering a low growl. Heart sinking, Papyrus realized his brother might have slipped--it tracked with how he'd been acting all day. Well, he'd have to get him back on track. What did he usually like to talk about here in the star room? It'd been so long, Papyrus couldn't quite remember... but he had to try!

"Not to worry, brother! We're safe here, and besides, how can you ignore all this? Do you remember when we found that human book about constellations, and we spent all day here trying to find them? We also decided to make our own since humans didn't have any skeleton constellations... Let's see... oh! There it is, the Big Skull! Shining brightly as ever!"

Sans followed his finger, then looked around--he couldn't see the constellation, but at least he was really looking at the stars now.

"You used to tell me about what real stars are, too. These are very pretty, but, you said the real stars are huge burning balls of fire or something, right? And, they're so far away, not even the humans have ever been to one. Um... there's different colors... yellow, white, red, even blue! I wonder if they come in other colors, but I don't remember. There was other cool stuff too, wasn't there?"

Sans looked up at him, then back to the stars. He'd calmed enough to lie down next to him, and seemed to be content just watching as waves of ambient magic flowed through the crystals, making their light waver. It really was amazing, and Papyrus was sure that even if the real stars couldn't be beat, this was a natural wonder all on its own. Who knew how long monsters had been wishing on these, filling them with their hopes and dreams...

He picked one--a bright, steady light that made one of the eyes in the Big Skull--and made a wish of his own.

"Okay Sans, though I'm sure we could stay here stargazing forever, we did have a mission today!" he prompted, standing up. "If you thought that was fun, just wait until we get to the dump!"

Sans crooned, then got up to follow him. He wasn't sure he'd managed to engage him enough, but there'd be plenty more chances, and perhaps he'd set the ball rolling. They continued to weave through the passages and wind down halls, splashing through cold, clear water until finally--they came to a small landing, and a rank smell informed them they'd made it to the dump.

Bad as the smell was, the piles of debris held endless possibilities, and Papyrus darted for the first one he saw. He circled it, sniffing at anything that looked interesting, clawing at pieces that caught his eye. Most of it was truly garbage--old food wrappers, filthy rags, broken plastic shells of electronics well beyond repair. But he found a deflated rubber ball that after some rinsing was fun to toss and shake in his jaws. This excursion was already looking like a success! He tucked it into his satchel and turned to see what luck his brother was having.

Sans was sitting in the middle of the room near where they'd entered, unmoving. He was soaked--in many places the water had come up to his chest, and here it was no different--but he didn't seem to care. Papyrus wasn't sure he would have normally--but seeing him like this didn't ease his worry.

"Sans! Don't just sit there! Come help me find cool garbage!"

Sans started, but didn't move. Papyrus sighed.

"Okay, well, if you just want to sit in the mud that's fine. I'm still going to look around!"

He continued his search, overturning sodden boxes and digging into moldering clothes; his heart leapt with excitement when he found a box of discarded books--but they'd been soaked, and the first one he opened fell apart, its pages illegible. Maybe someone else could take the time or had the skill to salvage them, but he had to move on. The next heap looked quite promising! He leapt onto it, sending a few things sliding, but it already looked lopsided so he wasn't messing up whoever liked to come by and sort the piles into some semblance of order. He could appreciate their devotion to cleanliness in the face of chaos--but there were treasures to find.

He began to dig his claws in, hoping to find such treasure, but something sent up an alert in his mind--a smell? He sniffed again, blocking out the damp stench of the regular garbage to hone in on it. It was faint--old. But somehow familiar, and he dug again to stir it up. It smelled... it smelled...

Like bone.

But there was something else. It was stronger--coming from nearby. Grassy, but withered--he dug more, and uncovered a dried-up stem. He clawed at it, refreshing the scent. Was this the grass smell? Yes, but not regular grass--it smelled just like... golden flowers. Papyrus jerked his head back. He pawed cautiously at the withered vegetation, mind churning. Bone, and golden flower. He stuck his nose back in, just to be sure. Bone, and flower, and old grease and the brand of ketchup Sans liked.

There was no mistaking it. The scents were weeks--maybe months--old, but they lingered. Papyrus looked back up at his brother, who still sat in the cold, swirling water. He remembered how Flowey had lied to Undyne about knowing where Sans was. He remembered how furious Sans had been at the mere mention of a golden flower. He turned the bit of plant--the tip of a vine--over with his claw, noting how the end was torn, and had no doubt. This was where his brother had met Flowey, and it hadn't been the friendly connection Papyrus had hoped.

Papyrus sighed. At least it meant Sans hadn't chosen to leave him all that time ago...

"Okay Sans, we can go home." He hopped from the garbage, splashing down. "I don't think there's much here after all, and, you don't seem to be having fun, so, let's get cleaned up. Why don't we take the ferry? Or, if you really want to get going, we, um, could... just take a shortcut."

Papyrus could hardly believe himself for making the suggestion. But if this place brought back bad memories--ones fresher than their days as experiments--then they didn't need to stay any longer. He trotted to where the water was clear, kicked his hands and feet free of mud and debris, then dunked his snout in to wash the smell of garbage out. Sans merely watched him, and once Papyrus had finished snorting water out of his nose he turned to him.

"Okay, brother! If you were waiting to take us home, you may now do it!"

Sans tilted his head, and Papyrus blinked.

"Don't give me that look! Using a shortcut, naturally. Even if I don't approve, they are quite handy for getting somewhere fast. I know you've cut home from farther away, so this should be easy!"

Sans only continued to give him a confused look. He raised a paw as if to step, but set it back down, uncertain.

"Sans... you can't have slipped this far again, can you?" Papyrus said sadly. He knew it could be a struggle--he'd gone through it himself--but it hadn't been so long ago that Sans had encouraged him to tell Alphys and Undyne their story. He'd been joking, albeit wordlessly, only a few days ago. Papyrus had thought he'd been getting enough stimulation, but... "Maybe today's just a bad day. That's okay! They happen! We can just take the ferry if shortcuts are too much right now."

The journey home was quiet; even the Riverperson only hummed softly as they navigated towards Snowdin. Once they got home, Sans clambered back onto the couch to doze once more, and Papyrus headed up to occupy himself with puzzle design. He needed to keep himself sharp too--if only to figure out how to help his brother. He got out his paper and pencils, and began sketching.

"Sans I think I've done it!" he cheered, bursting from his room some hours later. "This puzzle is going to stump any human who dares attempt it. Look!

He charged down to lay the blueprints out in front of Sans, who was still blinking wearily after being startled awake by his brother for the second time that day.

"I realized I could combine the challenge of a pressure plate lock with those steam vents Hotland is so irritatingly fond of, only I'll use spring-loaded levers instead because I have class--but, anyway, here's the pattern! Isn't is brilliant?"

Sans looked from the paper in front of him to his brother, then back to the paper--but only to nibble playfully at it. Papyrus yanked it away.

"No! You can't eat it!! Ugh! As always, my efforts go unappreciated," he sighed dramatically. "I'll refine the design and present it to Undyne tomorrow. She'll have something to say!"

He ignored the sinking feeling. At least Sans had done something silly. But he couldn't help wishing he'd said something instead.

To Papyrus' relief, it had just been a bad day after all. Sans woke up the next morning, stared at his hands for a bit, then shook himself out before shortcutting out, presumably for breakfast. When he returned, Papyrus was ready with a bag slung over his spines.

"Sans! You should come with me--I'm going to scout out the location for my new puzzle, and I'll need an assistant to hold my things. Surely you can manage that?"

Sans studied him, then uttered a hoot as he shrugged. That was good enough.

"Fantastic! Let's be off then!"

He charged out, kicking up snow, and wasn't shocked to find Sans waiting for him along the way. But he trotted after him once they'd met up, and Papyrus slowed his pace just enough that his brother could keep close. They reached the clearing Papyrus had in mind, and he set the bag down before turning to Sans to relay his brilliant plan.

"We've arrived! It doesn't look like much now... but this field is merely the canvas upon which I, premier puzzle architect, shall paint my latest masterpiece!"

He paused, and Sans opened his mouth--but as usual, the only sound he could make was an odd warble. He seemed disappointed, and Papyrus hoped his own concern wasn't obvious as he continued his monologue

"A-and! So, what I need you to do is hold the map while I survey the area and make sure my build zone is clear. Got it?"

Sans huffed and dipped his head.

"Good! Alright, here's the map. Let's get surveying!"

Sans took the map in his jaws and sat while Papyrus inspected the field. That tree was just barely in the way; whoops, there was a rock there, that was no good--hey, someone had already started a puzzle here ages ago. He'd have to tear that out. He reached into a snow poff and pulled out a little white dog--it yipped at him, and he lowered it back in. He couldn't build his puzzle anywhere near that. He finished his inspection, and headed back to his brother to see how the map looked.

"Alright, let's see... Sans!"

His brother tilted his head.

"You didn't mark any of the obstacles!"

Sans tilted his head the other way, doing his best to look innocent. Papyrus blinked, realization dawning on him. He'd only told Sans to hold the map, not mark it too, and groaned as he smacked a palm across his face.

"Ugh, of course!! Okay. This time, I'll hold the map, and you go find all the stuff that's in my way. It should be easy, since I already found all of them. Give me the map."

Sans passed it back, then laid down.

"No! Sans!! You have to tell me where the old puzzles and tree roots and dogs are so I can avoid them!"

Sans waved a claw in the general direction of the field, grumbling something.

"Saaaans!" Papyrus cried, stomping his foot and earning low, hissing chuckles from his brother. "Oh, I see! This is a game to you! Well, I'll have you know I take my games very seriously! And! I've never been beaten yet! Nyeheheheh!"

He ended up marking the map himself while Sans watched with amusement. He didn't mind--he was just happy Sans was playing with him like he always would. He missed the banter that would usually accompany it, but... after yesterday, he'd take what he could get.

"There, the map has been marked, no thanks to you," he said when he'd finished. "Now I can plot my setup properly. But first, this snow has to go!"

He found himself expecting a pun, but none came, so he instead focused on his magic and summoned long horizontal bones to sweep the field, clearing a wide swath. He summoned another set, and sent them the other way, pushing even more snow away and leaving only a thin dusting over the ground. Time for the final step. He concentrated, and summoned a trio of his special attacks. They fired simultaneously, melting the remaining snow away and leaving the ground steaming.

"Perfect. All set for the site of a truly excellent puzzle. Wouldn't you agree, Sans?"

Sans hooted his approval, and Papyrus recognized the look in his eyes. He must've thought his snow-clearing technique was really cool--he looked proud of him. He'd probably have made some dumb joke about it to hide how he really felt, but he only watched and waited for what he'd do next.

"Okay, I think that's all for today. Help me put up this caution tape so passers-by don't accidentally set foot on the site and mess it up."

The 'caution tape' was just toilet paper with 'CAUTION: BRILLIANT PUZZLE ARCHITECT (PAPYRUS) AT WORK' written on it in marker, but Papyrus was nothing if not resourceful. He set up a perimeter of bones, slotted the paper tube between a pair of his brother's upper and lower fangs, then ran with the free end around his setup a few times and tied it off.

"Well, a job well done, mostly by me," he congratulated as he surveyed his work. "But, it was nice to have you here too, brother."

Sans rumbled in apparent agreement.

"Tomorrow, I'll begin laying everything out. I think I spotted some scrap metal at the dump yesterday that should work quite well... You don't have to come with to get it, I know that'd... be a lot for you..."

Sans just looked at him. Maybe he didn't remember how yesterday had gone.

"But! That's enough for now! Let's go home and have lunch, and then decide what the afternoon is for."

As they walked back, the quiet of Snowdin's forest settled in around them; it was hard to believe they'd once fled into the surrounding woods with the intention of never coming back. Papyrus found himself feeling anxious at the memory, and momentarily quickened his pace before realizing he was leaving Sans behind. He looked back, and saw Sans looking at him curiously.

"Sorry Sans, I just.... We spent a long time out there in the woods, and, while Snowdin is definitely still my ideal location for our base of operations, it's... perhaps a little soon to be frolicking out here again. It won't bother me forever! Don't worry! But I'd like to get home."

Sans crooned sadly, and the next corner they rounded put them right in the living room.

"Oh! Sans! I didn't mean I didn't want to walk... Oh well, I suppose it's too late now..."

The room blinked, and they were back on the road. Sans was smiling at him mischievously.

"Oooh! Sans!!! Cut it out!" he howled, lunging at him to knock him over. Sans sprung out of the way, his true agility on rare display. Papyrus continued to chase after him, managing to succeed only because Sans was in even less shape than usual. He caught up with him quickly and pushed him into a snowbank.

"Now you'll chill out! Nyeh heh heh heh!" Papyrus teased as his brother rose from the drift and shook off.

Sans opened his jaws--but only a low hoot came out, and he paused a moment before giving a resigned shrug. Papyrus felt his heart sink yet again.

"Oh Sans, I know you'll get your voice back soon! You just have to keep trying... but, if you really don't want to talk, I suppose I can tell the jokes for both of us..."

Sans blinked, and uttered an inquiring hoot.

"It's fine, really! All your puns are very easy to replicate, so, I'll have no trouble filling in! It'll be 'snow' problem! Nyeh!"

Sans snorted, looking amused and concerned at the same time.

"What, you think I can't? I never expected I'd get such a cold reception, especially from my own brother!"

Okay, Sans was laughing now, good. He didn't want him to feel bad for not working as hard as he did, even if he did want him to work harder. Sans working hard recently had... not been good.

But it was lonely. Papyrus couldn't deny it anymore. He didn't remember the last time Sans had actually told him a joke even when he'd been able to. And now, sure, he still found ways to be obnoxious and clown around, but there wasn't the banter Papyrus loved. There wasn't the subtle encouragement or occasionally truly thoughtful musings. He was making progress on his new puzzle, but Sans wasn't there to double-check his work and point out oversights with brotherly ribbing.

Papyrus could easily fill the void with his own voice, but it just wasn't the same.

"Geez, and it seems like he still won't even try?" Undyne said when he'd shared his feelings during a sparring match.

"Well, he'll sometimes act like he wants to say something, but, when it doesn't come out right, he just kind of gives up," Papyrus sighed as he deflected a spear. "I've been telling puns in his place, but, I'm tired of the conversation being so one-sided. And I think maybe he is too."

"Aw man," Undyne uttered, finishing her volley. "So, what are you gonna do? Do I need to noogie some sense into him or what?"

"No, no!" Papyrus declined as he set up his attack and sent it at her, "I think he just needs some encouragement, which I am very good at. I'll figure something out! He's bounced back from this kind of thing before, I know he can do it again!"

"Hmm... Well, maybe you should just tell him what you told me," Undyne suggested, finishing an artful dodge around his attack, "and even though I know that's easier said than... said, how else is he supposed to know?"

Papyrus huffed. "That would cut to the chase, wouldn't it. I just have to hope he understands... I'm... not always sure what gets through...."

"He's still slipping sometimes?" Undyne asked sadly, and he nodded but smiled anyway.

"Not for very long! He has bad days and good days, and it's usually more good than bad, but, I can tell it... doesn't really... It's not a thing that worries him, so he doesn't do anything about it."

"Geez, well, sounds like you need to get encouraging him, huh?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

They finished their sparring match and retreated indoors for drinks, discussing the latest nonsense Mettaton had gotten up to and what their next cooking endeavor should be now that they knew about instructions over tea. Papyrus shared the blueprints for his new puzzle--which Undyne thought needed more spikes and fire pits. He'd normally agree, but that wasn't the tone he was going for so he politely disregarded her suggestions. He left her house that evening feeling revitalized; he'd forgotten how nice it was to have a full conversation.

He clattered in, and immediately bristled--he smelled the mess before he saw it. He dashed into the kitchen, where torn and broken containers littered the floor. Sans stood half in the fridge, the shelves askew as he'd forced his way in to scavenge.

"SANS!"

Sans startled, skittering backwards and knocking even more tubs of leftovers to the floor. Pulling free, he stared at Papyrus with eyes wide, his snout stained with the evidence of his crimes. He'd broken into the newly reopened food museum and destroyed it.

"Sans, I can't believe you!" Papyrus scolded, tail lashing. "I'd ask why, but not only do I already know why, it's not like you'd even answer! Ugh! You knew I was going to be back soon, you could have just waited! Or gone to Grillby's like you always do!"

Sans glanced away, then sat with a sorry whimper.

"Fine, but you're helping me clean this up! This is the worst mess of things you've made yet!"

Sans whimpered again, and tried to approach to give an appeasing nuzzle--but Papyrus pushed him away.

"Oh no, not until you clean yourself up too! I can't believe you're my brother sometimes, ugh!!"

Sans backed away, looking defeated. He cast about, then tried to gather up some of the wayward containers, sweeping them into a pile with his claws. He looked up and gave a questioning hoot, but Papyrus snorted.

"No, you can do better than that! Come on, let's get the shelves cleaned off and put back in first."

The whole process took longer than if Papyrus had just done it himself, but Sans had clearly slipped again--hard, this time. He struggled to use his hands instead of his jaws to manipulate the items he'd scattered, didn't understand the order they needed to do things in, and Papyrus kept having to get him back on task. He was so frustrated that when Sans tried to sneak a few more bites, he hissed at him--it stopped Sans on the spot, but he spent the rest of the time worried he'd begun slipping too.

They finally finished the fridge, and Papyrus grabbed a washcloth and his brother's skull to give it a proper scrub; Sans protested only weakly before quieting down and laying still until the ordeal was over. Papyrus tossed the washcloth in with the rest of the towels they'd used to wipe up the fridge, then trotted to the living room with a huff. It'd been a while since he'd been so genuinely frustrated with his brother.

Sans lay on the kitchen floor for a while before finally getting to his feet slowly. He plodded into the living room, saw Papyrus had taken the couch to watch TV, and settled to the floor nearby. Papyrus didn't want to talk to him. He hadn't even done anything that bad or surprising--the fridge was a beacon of temptation for a monster who liked food as much as Sans did. But he wasn't even trying to resist, or be more like his true self, even when everything had otherwise gone back to normal. It felt like he didn't care--about himself, or about him. And that was what had Papyrus upset.

The following day remained tense. Papyrus was still frustrated, and ignored his brother while he bustled around the house and got ready to continue working on his puzzle, paying no mind when he hooted an inquiry at him. He couldn't even tell if Sans was with it today or not, and didn't want his help anyway. He hurried out, and threw himself into puzzle construction.

At one point, he felt a presence--someone watching him. His instincts told him to look, it could be danger--but he refused, focused on digging the trench for an electrical line. He had work to do, and he wasn't going to let anyone distract him. He'd forgive his brother eventually--it wasn't really Sans' fault he was like this. But right now, Papyrus was tired of having a beast for a brother.

He finished digging out the placements for his pressure pads, and wiped his claws in the snow before picking up the tools he'd brought and heading for home. There were tracks in the fresh powder--so Sans had been out here at some point. Papyrus huffed. Who knew what he'd come back to this time.

But he opened the door and found everything in order. There were no new smells, and Sans was laying on the couch, watching TV. He got up when Papyrus entered, trilling a greeting--but Papyrus sighed and trotted past. Sans watched him go, and was quiet the rest of the evening, even as Papyrus went about making dinner. There was nothing to say.

Papyrus found the house empty when he got up the next morning.

"Sans?"

His room was empty, as were the living room and kitchen, and a pit of dread formed within Papyrus' ribs. Had he pushed him away? Had he fled, for the final time, to live as the beast he thought himself to be? Had he lost him for good...? He paced, and that's when he finally noticed the sheet of paper on the floor where Sans had laid the other night. For a brief moment Papyrus considered the possibility his brother had become stationery... then realized it was a pun, and had to choke back his own laughter. He'd have to tell Sans that joke at some point, provided they could get everything between them sorted out. He approached the paper, and studied it.

It was crudely drawn--Sans had never been artistically inclined like he was, and he hadn't been practicing his manual dexterity, so the rough, unsteady lines were to be expected. But the scene was clear--Sans had drawn stars along the top of the page, and a line at the bottom representing the ground. There was even a scribbled out attempt at an echo flower. It was the wishing room, and in the center of the page, he'd drawn a little stick figure of himself looking up. Was that where he'd gone...?

Papyrus set out at a brisk trot. The wishing room wasn't far, it'd be easy to find out what his brother was up to. He wove past other early risers and leapt over bridge seed puzzles before finally arriving at the cavern, eyes darting. It wasn't a large room, so his brother had to be close... There! The soft light reflecting off his bones almost made Sans appear to glow. He was sitting near the far end of the passage, looking up at the stars just as he'd drawn. Papyrus approached slowly, unsure what his brother was planning--it was just as likely a prank as it was something genuine.

Sans saw him approaching, and the relief that crossed his face was clear. Maybe this wasn't a prank. He stood as Papyrus drew near, and for a moment, they simply faced one another. Sans opened his mouth.

"hhhheya brro," he rasped.

Papyrus tackled him.

"SANS!" Papyrus yelled, but this time it was out of joy. "You--you did it! You're talking again! I'm so--it's--Sans!!!"

Sans chuckled, not even trying to fight the pile he'd been wrapped up in. "ssstill hard, but, tryin'. wanted to. sssay sorry. for letting you down."

Papyrus extracted himself enough to look his brother in the eyes. "Oh Sans, I'm--I'm sorry for being so cross with you. It, just... I missed you! A lot! But it was like you didn't even want to try..."

Sans thudded his skull against his brother's chest. "sssorry. did want to sometimmmess. didn't want to... a lot. hard to choose. easy to... not think about it. but. like i ssaid. couldn't let you down."

"Oh Sans... I'm very, very glad that you tried! And! Succeeded!! In only one night? Normally you'd be sound asleep!"

"couldn't," Sans replied, his smile seeming bittersweet. "not with you mad. so, went out, howled, made noises i didn't know i could. glad i didn't sleep."

"W-well, I'm glad too. And, um... will you keep trying?"

"listen, i, uhhh, think i better. maybe it's easier to... not deal with everything, but... it's leaving you hanging, and, i can't do that to my bro."

"And you made me come all the way out here just to tell me this?"

Sans shrugged, finally pulling free to shake himself out. "dunno. felt right. think you tried to talk to me here a little bit ago or ssssomething?"

"I did! I'm glad you remember!"

"yeah. stars. i remember you talking about the stars, and how it was the calmest i felt that day. so, coming back here... just made sense."

"Wowie. That's very poetic, Sans."

"hey, i'm good for more than just puns sometimes," Sans said with a wink, and for the first time in ages, Papyrus felt like he really had his bother back

"Hard to believe as it is, it's true," Papyrus agreed, standing as well. "What may also be hard to believe is how much I've missed said puns."

"well, i'll do my best to make up for lost time," Sans replied lightly as they started to walk back. "just might take me a bit to get... star-ted."

"Oh my god," Papyrus said, but couldn't stop smiling. "Clearly, it will not."

#undertalethingem writes #bark at the moon fic #gaster blaster au #sans (undertale)#papyrus (undertale)#Undyne (undertale)#heads up that this is the last chapter i had done ahead of time! i'll try to get the next done in time but i can't promise anything ^^;#in any case i hope you've enjoyed what i've written so far ^^

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aldweek · 3 years

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Electricians Wichita KS

10 electrical safety tips for your home

Check that you're using the correct wattage in all your fixtures and appliances.

Using the right bulbs can prevent electrical problems, so check all lamps fixtures and appliances to ensure you're using the correct wattage. If a light fixture has no wattage listed use 60-watt bulbs or less.

For the unmarked ceiling, fixtures choose 25 what bulbs.

PRO-TIP

Led bulbs consume less power and reduce the risk of fixtures overheating

Watch out for overloaded outlets to protect your home.

Overloading an electrical outlet is a common cause of electrical problems, check all outlets to ensure they are cool to the touch have protective faceplates, and are in proper working order.

Replace or repair damaged electrical cords to keep your home safe.

Damaged power cords are a serious residential electrical safety risk and they are capable of causing both fires and electrocution. All power and extension cords should be checked regularly for signs of fraying and cracking, and they should then be repaired or replaced as needed.

Power cords should not be stapled into place or run under rugs and furniture.

Cords under rugs pose a tripping hazard and can overheat while furniture can crush cord insulation and damage.

Wire the use of extension cords on a regular basis may mean that you don't have enough outlets.

To fit your needs have a qualified electrician Wichita KS who understands electrical safety rules.

Install additional outlets and rooms where you often use extension cords.

When purchasing a power cord consider the electrical load, it will carry a cord with a load of 16 AWG can handle up to 1 375 watts, for heavier loads use a 14 or 12 AWG cord.

PRO-TIP

AWG stands for American wire gauge the lower the number the thicker the cord.

Keep your users and in used cords tidy and secure to prevent damage

Electrical safety rules don't just apply to power cords when they're in use cords also need to be stored safely to prevent damage.

Keep stored cords away from children and pets (who may chew on or play with the cords).

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Never rest a cord on a hot surface in order to prevent damage to the cord's insulation and wires.

Unplug all your unused appliances to reduce potential.

One of the simplest electrical safety tips is also one of the easiest to forget:

When an appliance is not in use, unplug it.

Not only does this save you power by reducing any phantom drain (the amount of energy the device consumes even when not actively in use), but unplugging in used appliances also protects them from overheating or power surges

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Keep electrical devices and outlets away from water to prevent shock.

Water and electricity don't mix well.

To follow electrical safety rules, keeping electrical equipment dry and away from the water prevents damage to appliances and can protect against personal injury and electrocution.

When working with electrical appliances, it's important to have dry hands.

Keeping electrical equipment away from plant pots, aquariums sinks showers and bathtubs lowers the risk of water and electricity coming into contact

Give your appliances proper space for air circulation to avoid overheating.

Without proper air circulation, electrical equipment can overheat and short out and can become an electrical fire hazard. Make sure your appliances have proper air circulation and avoid running electrical equipment in enclosed cabinets.

For best electrical safety, it's also important to store flammable objects well away from all appliances and electronics.

Ensure that all your exhaust fans are clean to prevent fire hazards.

Some appliances have exhaust fans, which can get dirty or clogged with debris and make the appliance work harder.

This can shorten the life of the appliance and can cause a risk to the home due to overheating or even cause a buildup of dangerous gases that can lead to an electrical fire hazard.

Cleaning exhaust fans regularly helps prevent such hazards.

Always follow appliance instructions for improved electrical safety.

"Read the instructions" should top the list of electrical safety tips at home.

Understanding how to safely operate appliances improves both the performance of your device and your personal safety. Should any appliance give you even a slight electrical shock, stop using it until an Electrician Wichita KS checks it for problems.

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mo-mo-and-porkchop · 3 years

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42. "This isnt going to have a happy ending" (Seven)

@youbloodymadgenius

(Sorry this took so long.)

[Ala Alice in borderland on Netflix. ]

Oscar stared at the ceiling of his latest dwelling - a small, studio apartment no bigger than a hotel room. A fan whirled quietly, pushing a small breeze throughout the space. He let his eyes drift to the singular window and out to the roadways and parking lots the complex surrounded. Thin walls allowed him to hear everything his neighbors went through, day in and day out. Drab colors covered the walls making the space even more depressing.

What a shithole.

However it wasn't the worst place work had sent him over the years. Given his station in life he had been required to live in some of the shadier places on Earth. Being a hired hand for the most powerful players meant you went where they sent you. No questions. If he had known his experience in spec ops would turn him into a glorified errand boy he would never have replied to his recruitment.

They're lucky they pay so well.

He sat up with a sigh and forced himself from the futon. A female living to his right was on the phone with, whom he could only assume was a friend, complaining about her most recent bout of dieting. Her cat ate better than she did according to her.

Oscar shuffled to his small bathroom and splashed cool water across his face. He'd been there a month already and his target had yet to show up. He huffed silently to himself. He tried to warn the powers that be to move on from their obsession. After the doctor's botched experiments, they turned all of their attention to a nobody, twenty something.

A fucking kid.

As he dried his face two male voices drifted through his walls, catching his attention. They stood just down the hall and were easily heard. He listened as they discussed benign details of their day and, judging by their voices, they were 409 and 411.

Buzz. Buzz.

He glanced into his apartment at a small kitchen table that doubled as a nightstand. His phone lit up before buzzing once more indicating a text had come through. He tossed the towel onto the edge of the sink and went for his phone.

He swiped up and unlocked his phone to see a picture of Dahlia smiling brightly on the beach. Followed by the question:

[sms: jealous?]

A soft smile tugged at his lips when he saw it was his sister. And yes, he was jealous. He huffed quietly and sent a picture of his current view.

[sms: not really]

[sms: stop bragging] was her reply.

A hard, loud series of knocks at his door pulled him from his phone with a slight start. He wasn't expecting anyone. No one knew he was there, save his sister. And his 'boss' never frequent his residences. They did all their business virtually. The less connected they were physically the better.

The knocking repeated itself and he went to check his doorbell camera. Oddly no one stood there. The hall was empty. Silence began to creep in from all around. Then all power crashed.

All power.

The lights, the camera, the ac, the hall lights. Everything electronic had gone down. Not even his phone was working.

'What the hell?' he asked no one as he tapped the screen and shook it a little.

He wasn't sure what he hoped would have happened by doing it. It was like blowing on the game system when the cartridge didn't work - useless, but somehow hopeful. When nothing else worked he carefully opened his door, peeking through the hall. His unknown knocker was still at large.

Seeing that things were all clear, he went to neighbor's and knocked. Maybe they knew more about what happened. Silence followed. He waited a minute and tried again. Still nothing.

"Hello?" he called through her door.

He knew she was in there. She'd just been bitching to her cat, jealous of his superior meal plan.

"I'm from 408."

Silence.

Odd, but maybe she was cautious of unknown males. Although neighbors they knew neither beyond a simple greeting in passing. Something that happened rarely since he'd arrived.

He left her door and went to his other neighbor's. Repeating the same process, resulting in the same response.

His heart began to race as each and every door on his floor resulted in nothing more than silence. He seemed to be the only person there which was impossible. He rushed down the stairs and to the lobby, finding it eerily empty.

"Hey!" he called throughout the lobby as he searched for someone, anyone. "Hello?!"

Oscar left his complex and headed for the streets - which he found littered with abandoned cars and deserted.

What the fuck?!

"Hey!" he yelled louder, darting from car to car, his search still coming up empty.

At this point it felt as if his heart would break through his chest it was beating so hard. His mind raced. Panic was not something he was used and he handled it very poorly. The only one who was ever able to calm him on the rare occassions it did hit was his sister.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the black screen. It still wasn't working. He glanced around to try and find his bearings and noticed something.

The marquees had gone black. the street lights were out. Even the cars wouldn't start. Everything electronic was down. Like an EMP had hit, rendering it all useless. But that didn't account for the lack of people. Oscar had no idea what could have caused that since he remained. His mind went to the only explanation he could think of.

This was hell.

But he didn't remember dying. He'd been in his apartment minding his own business. The knocking was the last sound he heard. Not a gun shot or explosion. Just loud, hard knocking.

A month had gone by. In that time he'd searched nearly every part of the city and found nothing. No one. Each building was just as empty as the last. He scavenged supplies as needed and continued searching for anything to explain away this very real feeling delusion.

Suddenly a small tv screen lit up nearby - a lone light in the darkness. He squinted to see it clearer as he neared.

'Game arena this way.'

Game arena? What the hell?

A large arrow pointed to the right and looked where it pointed. As if on cue, a spotlight shown into the sky, illuminating a building a few blocks away. A glance between his phone, which still wasn't working, and the screen was all he took before heading where directed. This was the only thing different to happen since arriving.

He came to an apartment building slightly smaller than his. It too was dark save for the spotlights and some emergency lights running on a gas powered backup generator. It was just as abandoned as the rest of the city.

Cautiously he entered the building. He'd been through a lot of shit in his day, but this was eerier than hell. The silence was nearly driving him mad. Nevertheless he made his way through the hall, arrows leading the way. He finally came to the end of the hallway. A small table with cell phones and an elevator were all that greeted him. The elevator was down and the phones were off, just like the rest of the city.

Great. More nothing.

He tried the nearby doors and found them all locked. He left to backtrack out when he finally ran into others. Instinctively he grabbed one up and held him against the wall, holding his hand out to keep the others at bay.

"What the hell is going on? Who are you?" he asked glancing between the three of them.

They remained silent, but by the looks of thing he wasn't going to get any answers from them. He could almost smell their fear. Once Oscar actually took the time to actually see them he realized he'd overreacted. They were young men. In their mid twenties at best. Kids. He was an ex military turned merc who had done a great job of staying fit. He must have looked like a monster to them. He relaxed his grip and held up both hands in apology, taking a small step backward, keeping them all in his sights.

"Sorry. You're the first people I've found since...getting here and I thought you might have been responsible for whatever is going on," he explained.

They silently shook their heads once they were able to overcome their surge of fear. "We are just as lost as you," one of them said.

He looked at the three of them, studying their body language - which told they were being truthful.

"Do you know what is going on?" a second one asked when the silence became too much for him.

Oscar simply gave him a look to convey how stupid he thought that question was considering their initial meeting.

"Right. Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"We don't know anything," the first one admitted. "We were goofing off and then everything disappeared. It wasn't until dark that we were showed the way here."

Oscar nodded slightly. Aside from the length of time they were here, it was the same as him. "I've been here a month if my count is correct and haven't found shit. Except you guys," he said glancing between them.

The one with the stupid question took a few steps, peeking around the corner. He saw the elevator and table full of phones. His demeanor seemed a bit more hopeful at the sight. "There are phones down here," he said to his friends before taking off for them.

"They don't work," Oscar called out, but the other two had already rushed to join their friend.

When they picked them up the screens woke up. Their faces were scanned and a woman's voice came through - explaining registration was closed in five minutes and the number of participants, which as of now was the three of them.

"What the fuck?" Oscar said picking up a fourth phone. It scanned his face and replayed the same message. "These weren't working when I found them," he said more to himself.

Before they could discuss the recent turn of events a woman emerged from around the corner. She was dressed in business casual attire and looked vastly out of place. She calmly walked toward them and picked up a phone, repeating the process as the rest. This time however the registration time had gone down by two minutes.

"What does that even mean?" the third guy asked when he heard her message. "Registration?"

"Its a game," the woman said, breaking her silence.

"Game? What do you mean game?"

Without a word she pulled out some kind of ID badge and threw it down the hall. They all watched as a lazer shot out and precisely hit the tiny card.

"Once you cross the barrier you have now choice but to play."

"What game?!" the first guy asked again, frustration and worry in his voice.

"We are all in this game," she began to explain. "Each one is different and if you don't complete their tasks you die."

"Their?" Oscar asked.

She shrugged her shoulders "Whoever is running it."

A second girl showed up and when she saw the groups of them she rushed forward, happy to find other humans. The trio of guys tried to stop her, but it was too late and she'd crossed the threshold. Quietly Oscar handed her a phone. After scanning her face the voice rang out that registration was closed and there were six participants. It continued stating the game's name - Dead or Alive - the difficulty - three of clubs, whatever the hell that meant - and the one and only rule:

Pick the right door and exit within the time limit.

Just then the elevator door opened with a sign on it's back wall simply stating 'Start'.

Oscar sighed and quietly told himself "This isn't going to have a happy ending" before heading inside it with the others.

#youbloodymadgenius #alice in borderland #fanfic #fan fiction #fiction #writing #fanfiction #fan fic #original character #canon character #indie #tom hardy

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its-always-the-witching-hour · 4 years

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Chapter 1 of Apocalyptic AU - Sanders Sides

This is way longer than I intended it to be, and it’s only chapter one. I don’t have a name for it yet, but I’ll come up with one soon.

Word count - 1643

Pairings - None (yet)

Warnings - (Spoilers) Zombies, blood, guts, the undead, being left alone, death, disease, summoning rituals - Tag anything I missed

Characters - Virgil Sanders, Deceit (Devan) Sanders, Remus Sanders

Next chapter

---

Everyone had called his parents crazy, and conspiracy theorists, but now they probably wished they had listened to them. It was month 4 of the apocalypse, and Virgil was probably the only survivor. The outbreak had started with what seemed like a new disease, one that was extremely contagious but harmless, and put the infected person into a sleepwalker like stupor that lasted for days. At first, things just continued like normal, with people still going to work and school, and traveling around the globe, but Virgil’s parents hadn’t bought it. They had locked him from the outside and inside in a bomb-proof bunker, stocked with enough food to last a person a year. They refused to join him, though, and instead attempted to figure out where the disease had originated from. The days down in the bunker were long, but not that boring, due to the fact that there were at least three charging points for electronic devices on each wall, and a tv to keep connected to the outside world, not to mention the bookshelf with all of Virgil’s favorite books in it. He thought that the whole thing was an over-reaction at first, but still got some pleasure out of it, mainly because he now had a valid excuse not to turn up to school, as he was locked in his crazy parent’s basement. Then the disease went into its second stage.

Everyone who had been infected once, or was still suffering from it just collapsed onto the ground. Scans of the bodies showed that their brains had just stopped functioning, and nothing that was done could bring them back. There were too many funerals that week. A week after every dead body was buried, stage three started. People walking past or paying their respects to the dead reported scratching sounds from the graveyards. The government and police dismissed it as a Halloween prank – as it was October at the time – and stated publicly that there was no point looking into it further. Then, the voices started. At first, it just sounded like the wind ripping through the leaves of trees, until people realized that there was no wind, and hadn’t been for weeks. The unexplained chattering noises became the root of many dares that week, and police had to stop many people, young and old, from doing stupid things like digging up the bodies, or chanting so-called ‘summoning rituals’ and trying to connect to the ghosts of the dead. And then, about a month after the disease was first discovered, all hell broke loose, literally.

A report to the police had told them that a man was walking strangely along the pavement outside their house, and they suspected that they were illegally drunk in public. However, when the police arrived, they found a man covered in dirt, mud and grass. Both of his hands had sizeable splinters sticking out of them, and a few fingers dangled as though they were broken, but there was no blood. He walked with a shambling gait, looking like he had broken at least one of his legs. One policeman approached him, to see if they needed to call an ambulance, and the rest, well the rest was recorded by a camera crew doing one of those police documentaries for TV. The horrifying video, which was aired on every station in the world, started off with the policeman approaching the man and asking him ‘Are you okay’. When the man didn’t respond, the policeman tried again, each time moving closer to the man, until he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. With a creepy, unhinged look, the man turned slowly towards the policeman, who seemed happy to get a response out of him at last. The man flew at the policeman, shoving him to the ground and sinking his teeth into his arm. The policeman screamed in agony, then his head flopped back against the pavement.

After that video, Virgil’s parents re-enforced the door with twice as many locks, and for once he was glad that his parents always thought the worst was going to happen. Even days after the video came out, Virgil was still having trouble sleeping, so at 3am, when it happened, he heard everything. It started off with a banging on the front door, but nobody took any notice of that, because their house was pretty old, and weird noises appeared almost every night. As soon as the groaning and mumbling bubbled up, Virgil knew his parents were going to die. He huddled under the weighted blankets of his bed, silent tears running down his face as he listened to his parent’s screams. A couple of times, the zombies banged on the door to his bunker, trying to find a way to get in, but it was built too well. They left around 5am, leaving Virgil alone in a now broken home.

That happened 2 months ago, and Virgil hasn’t heard a thing since. The TV in his room doesn’t work, because there is nobody left to air anything, and the electronic generator has been slowly running out of energy. Every book on the shelf has been read for at least three times, and food and water levels were running low. He knew that his slow and painful death from starvation or dehydration was about to begin. All he could do was just try and ration the remaining supplies he had left, and sleep. When he heard the noises, it was no wonder he thought the zombies had returned. Then, he heard their voices.

“Try this one.”

“I can’t it’s locked.”

“Oh. Well this one is empty. Looks like someone beat us to it.”

A pause, then, closer to the door of the bunker,

“Hey, look at this. What do ya reckon it is?”

“Pictures of… paranormal activity?”

“Woah. This one’s really cool. Look at all the organs on the floor.”

“I think I know who lived here…”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Those weird scientists that were convinced that the world was going to end soon.”

“Well, looks like they were right after all.”

A small bout of harsh laughter with no humor behind it caused Virgil to retreat further back into the safety of his bed, his heart pounding.

“Hey, didn’t they have a kid?”

“Yes, a son, I’m pretty sure. He went to our school, I think, but we’ve never seen him around because when anything remotely strange happened, his parents locked him up for days. Wait Remus don’t –”

A loud crash echoed through the house as ‘Remus’ knocked over something.

“I’m fine, stop fussing Dee. Was there a door here before?”

“A what?”

“Look, it’s like a safe door! But with a thousand more locks!”

“Interesting. Perhaps there’s more food inside.”

“Or bodies!”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because I’m the only one left alive apart from you.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Aw, you know you looooove me.”

“Quit being weird and help me open this door.”

Virgil could hear them unlatching locks, and then, alarmingly, the door to his bunker began to shake. He let out an audible gasp, thankful that he kept the inside of the door locked in fear that the zombies would figure out how to open the outside locks.

“Huh, I think it’s locked on the inside as well.”

“But how, unless…”

There was a moment of terrified silence for Virgil, then the voices started speaking again, not to each other this time, but to Virgil.

“Hey, if there’s anyone in there, we won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, we’re nice people, really, and also… we might be the only other people left.”

“Please open the door, if you need it, we can help you.”

Taking a deep breath, Virgil realized that they were his best chance at surviving, even if it meant leaving his safe haven, he would have to go with them. Steeling himself for what would lay behind it, he opened the door.

Standing in front of him were two boys of a similar age to him. One was wearing an interesting black cloak around his shoulders, fastened with a golden chain. The shirt he wore under it was plain grey, and he had jeans on. Half of his face was covered in dirty bandages, and he had a slightly surprised look, as if he hadn’t expected the door to actually open. The other boy had a dark green parker jacket on, and shorts, which made an interesting combo. His hair was extremely messy, with twigs and clumps of dried mud in it. He had a wide-eyed smile, that almost made him look crazy. Virgil regretted opening the door immediately.

“Hey…” the one in the cloak stepped forwards slowly, wincing as Virgil backed up nervously at the movement. “Don’t worry; we’re not going to hurt you. I’m Devan, but you can call me Dee, and that idiot over there is Remus.” Remus gave an energetic wave as he peered past Virgil into the bunker.

“I-I’m Virgil,” Virgil whispered, “and don’t bother looking in there for food; it’s nearly run out. I do have some medical kits if you need it.” He directed the last one at Dee, who touched the bandage on his face self-consciously.

“That… would help.” He admitted, sending an exasperated look at Remus as the energetic one glanced over at Devan, worry clear on his face, “I’m fine, Remus. It just… hurts sometimes.”

“Okay, but you need to let me know if it opens up again. I can help you, ya know.”

Unsure of what to do at this moment, Virgil retreated back into his bunker, then came out moments later carrying a bundle of blankets.

“Here,” He mumbled, offering the bundle to the other two, “This will hopefully have enough stuff to keep us going.”

“Us?” Devan asked.

“Yes, I’m coming with you.”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #zombie warning #zombie apocolypse au #tag this as dukedon'tlook or twdeceit and I'll steal your knee caps

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breakingsomething · 4 years

Text

the fall part thirteen - the storm (part two)

basic summary: the storm continues. anti's still a bitch. henrik works through some stuff.

trigger warnings: seizure, suicidal ideation

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow @graveyardlettuce @lower-your-expectationss

half an hour after the blackout

anti was still on the floor.

marvin hadn't been able to move him. he'd gotten his wet hoodie off, leaving him in a plain black shirt, but he'd refused to change into the new clothes chase had brought him. he hadn't even spoken since his original outburst, instead opting to press himself against the cupboards and lash out numbly whenever marvin tried to get near. "come on, you fucking cunt, you wanted me to let you inside," marvin sighed, exasperated. "the least you can do is cooperate."

anti shook his head wildly, eyes black and wide, lips slightly parted. marvin could hear his breathing, loud and raspy. "hey," he said softly. "anti. this fucking sucks for all of us, k? but you're gonna get even more sick if you don't get changed out of those wet clothes and that'll be miserable for all of us."

"still being a bitch?" chase asked, walking into the kitchen with a bundle in hand. he sat down cross legged next to marvin, tossing a towel onto anti's lap. "here. take. use. and also -" he unfolded a blanket and tossed that at anti too. he didn't catch it, just stared straight ahead, twitching slightly. chase frowned. "jeez, did being in the rain for an hour do this to him?"

"dunno," marvin murmured. truth was, he thought it was definitely more than that. he reached out and shook anti's shoulder gently, causing him to flinch even within his mostly unresponsive state. "an-ti. come on, man. fuck, what am i supposed to do - anti!"

anti shook his head again. he opened his mouth, making a strangled sound in his throat, then promptly began coughing again, clutching at his neck frantically. he made a deliberate sign that marvin didn't recognize, slicing his left hand up and round his shoulders.

"i - i don't know that one, anti," marvin said helplessly. anti gave up, sinking down and coughing again. marvin nudged the blanket and towel closer to him. "here. dry yourself. i'm gonna get you water, hang on."

he did as he'd said and handed the glass to anti, making sure to partially keep ahold of it as he remembered anti dropping his cup at the hospital. while he did that, chase tugged marvin's phone out of his jeans pocket, sliding it over to anti. "here. you need electricity, right? drain marvin's phone if you need to."

"hey," marvin protested. "at least use your own if you want to sacrifice, dickwad."

chase shrugged. "he's your friend. besides, i'm texting lucas."

marvin blinked as he took that in, then nodded. "ah, yeah, fair. lucas is… a pretty cool guy." fuck, how was he going to bring up the fact that he knew chase liked him? marvin was very bad at this.

"he is, yeah," chase murmured. he was on his own phone, texting as anti clutched marvin's in his hands. "we might go to costa this weekend if this storm blows over by then."

"oh," marvin said. "as a - as a date, right?"

wow. way to be subtle. marvin mentally kicked himself as chase spluttered, face going visibly red even in the darkness. "i - what - no! dude, i'm straight. stacy, remember? i had a wife, marvin."

"bisexuality is a thing," marvin argued. "i'm bi. jackie's - i know lots of people who are bi. you could be bi."

"i'm not - marvin, give it a rest!" even as chase turned away from him, marvin could hear the anger in his voice. "i'm not bi, so lay off it. fuck's sake."

a hot vat of guilt swirled in marvin's chest. he hadn't meant to upset him. "sorry," he said, voice small. "i just thought - i'm sorry."

chase snorted. "well, your thought was wrong." then he hesitated, still turned to face the wall instead of marvin. "why did you - think i liked him?"

marvin hesitated, wondering how much to say. eventually he decided to go easy. he didn't want to pressure chase into talking about anything he didn't want to talk about. "i don't know. i guess i just thought you looked sweet together."

chase rolled his eyes and mimed gagging. "ew, boy cooties!" he said in a childish voice, and the two of them giggled.

anti suddenly groaned loudly. when they turned to him, they could see him rolling his eyes clearly. "hey there, glitch bastard. have you recovered from your angst coma?"

anti snorted. he sat up properly, wincing as he pressed his right hand to the floor without thinking. "fine," he signed, yet again. he picked up the towel from the floor and buried his face in it on his knees. marvin and chase exchanged glances.

"well, here's some clothes for you to change into," chase said uncertainly. he nudged the clothes over towards him. "i'm gonna go - do… something else. that's not here. bye."

wait! came a voice. marvin and chase yelped with shock. the voice was flat and electronic, and also sounded australian, for some reason. it seemed to be coming from chase's phone, which anti was resting his hand on. where's my scarf?

"you can talk using a phone?" chase asked, amazed. "why didn't you do that before?"

anti sighed through his nose. because it takes a hell of a lot of energy. i can barely sign and just wanted to get your attention.

he started coughing wildly into his arm again, and chase's phone screen darkened. chase raised an eyebrow at marvin, who shrugged and looked back at anti. "your scarf is being washed, with your hoodie. we can wash the rest of your clothes too, i guess, if you go to the bathroom and get fucking changed. and for a shower too if you want. actually, i don't know where you've been staying, but i'm gonna say it. you stink. go do that or i swear we'll kick you out again."

they helped anti stand shakily, swaying on his feet. once he was up, he pushed the other two off, leaning against the kitchen counter. "did i die and go to hell?" he signed. "i hate this."

"we hate it too, don't worry," marvin said, not so gently pushing anti towards the kitchen door. "i'll walk you there to make sure you don't do anything. now go."

and he did. one step done. fantastic.

forty five minutes after the blackout

there was a knock on henrik's door.

"it's me," chase's voice said loudly. henrik groaned and pulled his covers further over his head. "can i come in?"

"please don't," henrik said in a small, wobbling voice. he scrubbed at his face, turning to bury himself in his pillows.

there was a brief moment of silence. "ok, i feel like i should come in anyway, cause you sound really upset and you always tell me you don't like to leave me alone when i'm upset, so i'm coming in. just a warning."

henrik didn't even have the energy to protest. he kept his face covered with his blankets like a child as the door creaked open and chase padded inside, clicking the door shut behind him. henrik held his breath, barely moving at all. the quiet was deafening.

a hand appeared on top of his blankets. it waved before pulling the covers away from henrik's face, slowly enough that he could stop him if he wanted. chase's face popped up, grinning. "hello down there," he said cheerfully. henrik flushed and turned away, embarrassed.

chase walked round to the other side of his bed and climbed on, much to henrik's dismay. "hey," he said, quieter and much more serious sounding. he pushed himself under the covers with henrik, rolling over and smiling softly at him. then his smile faded slightly. "you've been crying."

henrik huffed, covering his face again with a pillow. "well spotted, genius."

chase breathed out through his nose, probably thinking about what to say next. "anti's in the bathroom getting changed or something," he murmured. "marvin's dealing with him cause i bailed. can't be bothered with that shit right now." he gave a soft laugh. "anyway, marvin's the one who's so determined to be friends with him, so. he can do all that shit."

henrik hummed under his breath. he didn't want to think about anti being in their house, no matter how sick or hurt he was. didn't want to think about how they'd spent years trying to keep him away from them, jackie included. how they'd put up spell after spell, made fun of anti and made up dumb names for him, talked about what they'd do if he wasn't there, cried over the things he'd taken from them. so much time wasted. it physically hurt to think about, to remember. henrik felt like there was a rock of grief in his chest, aching and dragging him further into the bedsheets.

"i don't want this," he whispered, and more tears were building up and spilling over before he could even finish. his voice broke. "it hurts and i don't want this. this all fucking sucks and i'm sick of it, i just - i - this isn't right, it wasn't s-supposed to happen like - chase, chase, i -"

chase grabbed one of his hands, holding it tightly in his own. "hey. i get it. i get it, henrik. look at me. look at me, henrik."

he did. his little brother looked so fucking exhausted. bags under his somehow still bright eyes, his beard grown longer than he usually let it, blonde curls escaping from their ponytail and falling in his face onto the pillows. henrik couldn't see the right side of his head as he was laying down, but he knew there was a gunshot wound there, a scar where hair couldn't grow anymore. henrik's breath hitched, hot tears trailing down his skin onto his hand, resting underneath his face. he needed to stop thinking like this or he was going to start bawling like a child and never stop.

"i'm sorry," chase said softly. he squeezed henrik's hand. "i miss him too. i - i do. it hurts to think about and i miss him, so much. i miss jackie. i miss… i miss jackie. fuck, i…" he let out a choked laugh, eyes wet. "man, it sucks absolute ass right now. but henny? you've still got us. i know it's not much. and i know we miss jamie and jack too, and everything is sucky, and i'm probably not reassuring you, but... you have me and marvin."

he sniffled, tears falling suddenly and sobbing. he laughed as he did so, wiping his face with his hand. "fuck!" he giggled, and henrik suddenly found himself laughing too. "ah, fuck, look at us. big ol' crybabies. i mean, god, if anyone has any reason to cry i think it's us, eh?"

"i would say so," henrik agreed. he pressed the blanket over his eyes. "scheisse, this… this sucks. i'm sorry for -"

"no," chase interrupted. he glared at henrik, blue eyes stormy. "you don't let me apologize when i'm being a little bitch. i'm not letting you."

he shuffled closer to henrik, almost knocking their heads together. "there's nothing we can do to change the situation right now," he said firmly. "anti's not gonna stay long, alright? as soon as the storm ends, he's gone. we'll put the wards back up again and then we'll - we'll - do whatever comes next. i'm… i'm so sorry it's come to this, henrik. but i swear on my goddamn life, i will never let him hurt you again."

"you were going to make another suicide attempt, weren't you?" henrik whispered suddenly. he closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the look on chase's face, but he still heard his breath hitch, still heard the small noise of upset in his throat.

"yeah," chase whispered back. "i was."

henrik swallowed back dry bile that was rising. "when?"

"henrik, we don't have to talk about -"

"when?" henrik demanded, eyes flying open again. chase crumpled under his gaze, drawing even further into himself. he suddenly looked so small.

"i had it planned for… for, uh… a couple weeks after everything with jackie happened," he said, voice breaking. "i - i was - henrik, i -"

henrik shook his head wildly, and without warning, pulled chase into a proper hug. he could feel chase crying softly into his t-shirt. his brother's hair tickled his face, and henrik buried his face in it, trying to be as close as he could.

"why didn't we know?" he cried. "we didn't - i never even - i should have saw the signs, you're my brother and i couldn't even tell -"

he couldn't believe he'd been so close to losing him. his mind raced with possibilities, making his head ache. if marvin hadn't found anti, if all that hadn't happened -

"promise me you won't," henrik insisted. "promise. don't say you can't. i want you to fucking promise."

"i promise, hen, i promise, i promise, i do, i swear i won't."

they stayed in each other's arms for a while. eventually, someone knocked lightly on the door, causing henrik to stiffen defensively. "it's me," marvin said from the other side. "left anti for a sec to see if… if you were ok."

"we're fine," henrik said stiffly. he ran his fingers through his little brother's hair, knocking his hat aside. "just fine. go deal with anti."

marvin hesitated. "i'm - i'm sorry, henrik."

henrik didn't bother replying. marvin left after a moment, and henrik closed his eyes against the glow of the lightning outside.

an hour and twenty minutes after the blackout

marvin was starting to regret letting anti inside.

"are you - fuck, are you ok?" he said, again, for what felt like the five hundredth time in the past twenty minutes. he'd eventually persuaded anti to get in the shower, which had been a task in itself, but it seemed he also had to babysit him to make sure he didn't fucking die. which was definitely something he hadn't thought would be necessary until anti had somehow managed to knock over every single shampoo bottle in the bathroom in one fell swoop and almost accidentally drowned himself. marvin was now sat grumpily outside the bathroom on his phone, texting alice to get an update on naomi. apparently she was doing a lot better and wanted to apologize to marvin for her behaviour, which marvin had said he appreciated but didn't need. he definitely knew about how mental illness could affect someone and how they interacted with people. he didn't say that, though. he just told alice to send his love and then the conversation ended.

he wasn't sure why he kept asking anti if he was ok. he doubted that he'd answer even if he could. eventually, he heard the sound of the water cutting off, and sighed with relief. the risk of anti accidentally killing himself had just been halved.

it was maybe ten minutes later that the door opened and anti stepped out. "i hate you," was the first thing he said. he was now wearing an oversized ac/dc hoodie and black jeans. marvin frowned. he hadn't realized how goddamn skinny anti was until he saw chase's clothes on him. "i'll - get you a brush," was all he said. marvin tried to hold back a smirk at anti's explosion of curly hair, long enough now that it came down to his chin. anti didn't smile. even in the darkness, marvin could see how dazed he looked, eyes unfocused and flickering from colour to colour. eventually they came to rest on a silvery grey, and he blinked wildly, clinging to the doorway with white fingers.

marvin's chest tightened. "here, come on, you fucking…" he trailed off, sighing as he wrapped an arm around anti's waist and helped him down the stairs to the living room. anti groaned, falling over a few times before marvin could help him up again. "fuck's sake, you're so incompetent. did jamie have to see you like this on a daily basis? i don't understand how we never defeated you, i don't."

anti stiffened at jamie's name, making strange noises in the back of his throat. "d-a-p," he signed as soon as he was sitting down on the couch. "brother, my brother."

"yeah, sure, whatever," marvin mumbled, barely listening. anti's stomach rumbled, and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly. marvin resisted the urge to scream. "ok, you need food as well. what do you even eat? human meat? blood? doritos? come on, help me out here."

anti had curled up on the couch, ignoring him. marvin sighed yet again. "ok," he said aloud to no one. "i'll make you a fucking piece of toast. that's what you're getting."

by the marvin had made the toast and come back to the living room, however, anti had fallen asleep completely.

"oh, fuck you," marvin groaned, tossing the plate down on the glass table. "you're an asshole. i hate you so much. do you know how much i hate you? it's a lot. so goddamn much. i'm gonna pick you up and throw you the fuck outside again."

anti obviously didn't respond. even in sleep, he looked distressed, face scrunched up and holding both his arms to his chest. marvin just looked at him for a minute, frowning. anti's hands were red and scratched up still, his right wrist bruised. marvin also wondered about the white scars that trailed from his eyes down his face. had jackie done that too? or had anti had those scars when he returned chase's kids? marvin couldn't even remember.

he went upstairs again and knocked on henrik's door. "helloooo, bastards. anti's sleeping. are you two ok?"

no response. marvin peeked inside, shining his torch, only to see that chase and henrik had fallen asleep in each other's arms. marvin watched their chests rise and fall in unison, both their faces tear stained but calm in their sleep. marvin closed the door again.

he texted alice. any updates? no response yet. that was ok. she was busy. marvin could wait.

and wait he did.

two hours after the blackout

being alone with his thoughts for so long was absolutely, definitely not good for him.

marvin wasn't sure how he'd ended up sitting in the kitchen closet on top of the christmas decorations, curled up with his knees at his chest. every single inch of the house was somewhere he associated with jackie, for whatever reason. the bannister on the stairs they peeked through when they were about to pull a prank. the kitchen counters jackie always sat on when he ate because "tables are for pussies, marvin." the living room window that jaffa liked to sleep in and jackie would stand next to so he could pet her while scrolling through his phone. the shoe rack where jackie went to when everything became too much, and one of his brothers would have to help him calm down with his weighted blanket and some calm words. marvin was beginning to feel sick thinking about it, hand clamped over his mouth as guilt sank down in him like a ball and chain attached to his heart.

it felt like a constant ache that wouldn't go away. please, make the hurt stop, his mind screamed. but he wouldn't break down. he'd come this far without breaking. he wouldn't cry. he wouldn't scream and slam his fists against the wall. he wouldn't. he was the oldest now. he had to look after his brothers. and fuck, if marvin didn't let out a small wail of pain at the thought of them clinging to each other like they were the other's anchor, but he wouldn't break, he wouldn't. he'd hold on because that was his job and he knew he had to be strong.

something crashed in the other room.

marvin was on his feet instantly. he shoved the door open, boxes falling behind him, and raced out the kitchen into the living room. anti had fallen off the couch and was thrashing on the floor, crying out in his sleep. marvin was at his side in an instant. "anti? calm down, shit, calm down."

it took a moment to realize anti wasn't just having a normal nightmare. he was convulsing, his head slamming against the floor, trying to scream but unable to. marvin lifted anti's head and grabbed a cushion, sliding it under him and shoving the table to the side. "shit, shit," he cursed silently. that was all he knew to do when someone had a seizure. he thought about running to go wake up henrik, but another second considering that brought him to the realization that maybe that was dumb. instead, he stayed by anti's side until it passed and anti was left panting, whining in pain and breathing heavily.

marvin closed his eyes and leaned against the armchair, not even moving to sit up on it properly. thunder rolled outside, and anti flinched in his sleep. marvin, tired from suppressing his panic attack and dealing with the everything of that evening, eventually found himself drifting off as well.

"i'm going out today. are you coming?"

dapper didn't answer. he was pretending to be asleep, anti could tell. a small smirk spread across his face, and he poked his brother's forehead gently. "dap-per. wake u-up," he singsonged. he could see him holding back a smile, the corner of his mouth quivering.

"leave me alone," he signed, rolling over and raising his hands up dramatically. anti laughed and collapsed across his chest, causing him to let out a loud "oof." anti turned his face toward dapper's, sticking out his tongue at the grumpy look on his face.

"morning, bitch boy," anti grinned. dapper flipped him off, his face scrunching up in an effort to keep from smiling. "i asked a question. do you wanna go out today?"

dapper rolled his eyes and nudged anti to get off his arms. "tired," he said once anti had moved. "you go by yourself."

anti frowned. "are you feeling ok?" he asked, running a hand through dapper's hair. his brother closed his eyes, just breathing for a moment, him and anti in time.

"i'm ok," he said. "just - i'm ok." his hands flopped down onto anti's chest. anti watched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. dapper's expression was unreadable.

"are you sure?" anti questioned, tapping the other man on the nose. dapper didn't smile this time. "come on, dap. we can get food. and i was gonna get you another present."

"aren't presents supposed to be a secret?" dapper said, raising an eyebrow. his eyes were more silver than usual. anti had been paying too much attention to his hands to notice, but now, it was all he could see.

"if you care about such things," anti retorted. "have you rewinded today? you're glowing."

"no," dapper said, far too quickly. "i mean… kinda. i spilled water on one of my sketchbooks earlier and i rewinded that. sorry."

anti shook his head. "that's fine. i was maybe gonna get you another sketchbook while i was out anyway." he widened his eyes, staring deliberately at dapper. "if you wanted to co-ome..."

dapper practically deflated. "no, not really," he signed. "still don't feel well. sorry, anti."

anti pressed a hand to his brother's forehead. "you do feel warm," he murmured. "have you thrown up or anything? is it your magic? do i need to find that doctor again?"

dapper giggled, pushing anti's hand away gently. "i'm fine, i am," he signed. "you go. better get me good presents. also chocolate. lots and lots of chocolate."

"ok, ok, ok." anti sat up on the bed, ruffling dapper's curls. "i'll do that. although stuff like that is gonna be expensive, today of all days. so many people forgetting to buy presents for their loved ones and all that shit. imagine that, dap! i would never forget." he jumped off the bed, adjusting his yellow scarf in the mirror on the wardrobe. "how do i look? fantastic?"

dapper pushed himself up on his elbows, considering. "h-m-m," he signed, then twirled his mustache, pretending to be deep in thought.

anti threw a penny from the spare change he'd pulled out his pocket to count at dapper's head. "are you kidding? did you just fucking sign the word "hmm?" seriously?" he laughed and pulled on his jacket, flipping him off. "you're an asshole. i'm gonna assume i look wonderful as usual and i'm eating all your chocolate myself. bastard man."

"you look absolutely incredible, anti, a right king," dapper giggled. "look at that beautiful scarf, so bright against your black outfit! i mean, probably, i'm colourblind. tell me, brother, where did you get that gorgeous accessory?"

"a smartass cunt bought me it," anti said with a smile. he opened the bedroom door, clicking his tongue and miming finger guns. "ok, i'm going. stay here, don't answer the door, stab anyone who tries to come in, rewind if you have to, ect, ect. you know the rewind password. see you in a few hours."

dapper's smile faded. "wait," he signed, and swung off the bed and over to anti, pulling him in for a hug. anti's breath hitched, and his arms slowly came down to rest on his brother's back.

"you sure you don't wanna come?" he mumbled, forehead resting on dapper's shoulders. his heart was racing, and he couldn't tell why.

dapper nodded, then pushed himself away. "yeah, sorry, yeah. see you in a few hours."

anti forced a smile, then raised his hands to sign the next few words. "don't forget."

dapper hesitated, not looking at anti. "don't forget."

anti stepped out the door, starting down the stairs. then he stopped. "oh! and happy christmas, dap." he smiled up at him. "i'll get you something good, i promise."

dapper nodded, face blank.

anti shouldn't have left him alone.

six hours after the blackout

this wasn't jack's house. this wasn't the flat. this wasn't the waterworks.

once anti had gone through the list of places he definitely wasn't, he sat up, head aching like he'd been struck. had he? probably, actually. a sharp taste of copper lingered in his mouth. had he bit his tongue? where was his brother, what day was it, why was it so dark?

a quick memory evaluation reminded that he was in jack's boys flat, dapper was gone, it was wednesday, it was dark because of the storm, and no, he definitely had not bit his tongue.

the cat was asleep leaning against an armchair, head on his arms and legs folded beneath him. there were actually two cats that anti could see; one appeared to be a real cat, small with black fur and vivid blue eyes. it stared at anti disapprovingly as he sat up, wincing as he yet again forgot about his fucked up arm. he was starting to really regret glitching the x-ray that hecate used to trick them into taking the cast off. it had been really annoying, sure, but the fact that he couldn't lift anything or sign with his right arm was starting to piss him off.

the cat suddenly mewled loudly, leaping off its perch on the chair and slinking over to anti's side. he flinched, smacking the floor. "go away," anti signed, like the cat was going to understand british sign. "i don't like you. fuck off."

the cat just stared. anti stared back.

"are you have a staring contest with jaffa cake?" someone yawned, and anti jumped. the magician was sitting himself up fully, rubbing his eyes. "morning, jaffa. morning, anti too, i guess."

"it's four am," anti deadpanned. "also, you named your cat jaffa cake? seriously?" it was only after he'd signed all that that he realized the other man probably couldn't see his hands in the darkness.

"how do you know it's four am?" asked the magician, to anti's surprise. "also, this is chase's cat. her name is jaffa. say hi, jaffa."

"you can see my signs?" anti asked curiously. "also, i always know what time it is. probably so much time spent around -" he cut himself off. he didn't want to say his name.

"i can see in the dark," the magician said, grinning. "i know, i know, i'm awesome. magnificent, some might say." he laughed, filling up the silent room. then he yawned again. "did you eat the food i got you?"

"not hungry," anti lied. he didn't trust anything jack's boys might give him, especially with the doctor here. "i - did i have a seizure?"

"in your sleep, yeah," the magician confirmed. "were you having a nightmare?"

he had been, until he'd started dreaming about dapper, which was arguably worse. he didn't respond. then he suddenly realized the odd blood taste was because he'd bitten the side of his mouth. how annoying. anti quickly ran a hand through his hair to soothe himself. he'd almost forgotten about his shower, and his hair felt much nicer, somehow even curlier. no blood on his neck. something ached in his chest.

"i'm going back to sleep," he signed. his eyes fluttered shut. "talking takes so much effort. my arms are tired."

"ok," the cat murmured. anti could barely see his outline in the darkness. "ok. uh. anti, is it ok if… if i talk to you? in the morning? i just wanna ask some… some stuff."

anti turned his head away. "ok."

the cat brightened. "oh, good! ok! i'm - i'm also gonna go back to sleep, cause i've barely slept, and i'm tired as fuck. g'night - or, well. g'morning." he lay his head back on his arms, smiling softly. "night, anti."

he fell back asleep. he fell back asleep with anti watching him. was he an idiot? was he seriously a fucking idiot? did he forget what anti had done - things anti had done to his own brothers? how could someone forget that?

anti stood up calmly and went into the kitchen. they hadn't hidden the knives well. they were in the bottom drawer of the cupboards underneath the tea towels. anti picked the largest one. it was a dull orangey red colour, and the handle was cold.

he padded back into the living room. the man hadn't moved. he had genuinely fallen asleep, anti realized with a jolt. he trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. how pathetic, how sweet it was that he thought anti had the potential to be a good person. anti had stabbed the magician on his very first day of existence. he could do it again. he would. he'd wanted this for years.

so why was he hesitating, why was the knife hanging above the man's neck but not touching it, why was he shaking? anti sat back in disbelief, heart racing, mouth hanging open. he needed to kill him. he wanted to. why couldn't he do it? why was the bastard still sleeping, smiling from within his doze, hair falling into his face and eyes? why were anti's eyes burning, why did this hurt? why did this hurt?

the closest sound to a sob that anti could manage fell from his mouth. he stumbled back, away, needed to get away. he shouldn't have come here. he should never have come here.

eleven hours after the blackout

marvin awoke to a gift. the storm was over, and all of their kitchen knives had been stabbed into the table. all but one. the biggest one, the red one, which was missing. underneath the knives, in almost illegible handwriting, was written, "you should hide these better next time. ps. alice says your girlfriend is fine. stop texting her, for fuck's sake."

anti had left and taken marvin's phone with him.

"i told you we shouldn't trust him," henrik said drily when he saw it. chase silently began yanking the knives out of the wood. and marvin just stared, reading the message over and over again, feeling like an idiot.

maybe he was too trusting after all.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #the fall

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bang-to-the-tan · 5 years

Text

Stray Cat Strut

Chapter 2

Reader x OT7

► Faerie!AU

Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Mention of Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Faerie Mischevious Bullshit

↳ Summary: When your grandmother passes away, she leaves her countryside house in your name. The longer you stay, the harder and harder it becomes to explain away the odd happenings. What kind of secrets does this sleepy town hold? And why do the local animals act so strangely around you?…

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So maybe you should find a map to the hunting goods store. Or else, find someone to ask about it. Getting lost is one thing, but giving up is entirely out of the question. You can’t just leave the local wildlife to chew through your grandmother’s house. There are old signs posted up at every other road or so that indicate the direction of the local library, and it seems as good a place to start as any.

The town around you is so quiet, so peaceful, you find yourself understanding why granny decided to stay here as you walk. The roads aren’t perfect—some of the side walkways are narrow and made of stone—and some of the buildings look fit to fall apart, but there’s a charm in the air. A kind of comfortableness that you could seriously get used to. Clothes strung up to dry, hanging in the spaces between pastel-colored houses. Gardens overflowing with long grass and sweet flowers waving lazily. Windowsills crawling with ivy. The whole town seems to inhale with the breeze, warming itself in the sunlight.

You’re suddenly struck by familiarity at an intersection on your way to the library and you pause to read the sign, noting the street name. Ah. That’s why you recognize this place. Down this path to the right, through the foliage…it’s where your grandmother was married. For a few seconds, you hesitate, but eventually decide to take a short detour. After all, the library isn’t going anywhere.

The road goes from concrete to cobblestone to dirt beneath your feet as you walk forwards, noting the houses becoming fewer and fewer, the trees overhead becoming denser. The light dapples as it dances across your skin, the dead leaves curling over the edges of the path. It smells fresh, sweet, like green vegetation. You turn a corner past a particularly large tree and can just make out the bridge you’d seen in old photographs all your life. But as you get closer, your heart sinks. The weeds by the pond the tree cranes over are overgrown. The path uncared for. Moss devours the railings and eats away at the wood underneath, making it almost impossible to discern what colors it was once painted. You finally come to rest at the mouth of the bridge, looking over the edge, down at the murky water below forlornly. Even your reflection is hard to see. You turn back, straightening, and start faintly when you notice a figure standing there, just out of the reach of the shade from a nearby willow that bends its head to the water, lent a halo from the rays outlining his form. Somehow you must have missed his approach, but looking at him, you’re not sure how.

He’s incredibly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged. A draft of wind sifts through the sunny sections of soft mocha hair that caress his face, almond-shaped eyes pensive as he watches the pond like someone in mourning. He’s entirely bewitching, even as he blinks slowly and turns to look at you. His lips are plump, the color of rose petals and just as delicately shaped. When he smiles bitterly, your heart breaks.

“Sad, isn’t it?” He says. He gestures around you with a hand, resuming his position leaning against the rail. His head shakes once, as if in disbelief, and he sighs. “I think so, too.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You can’t think straight. It’s the first time you’ve ever been struck wordless by someone’s beauty. “I’ve seen old photos of this place. When it was taken care of.”

“There’s no one to take care of it,” he replies quickly. “No one left. It was beautiful once.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man nods.

“Does…” You begin, haltingly. “I mean, there’s gotta be someone who still cares? Back home, we had like a community fund..for…”

He shifts to regard you again, lips curling softly.

“For uh. Community projects.” The words are sticking in your throat, your mind fogging. The intensity of the way he listens to you so closely is unnerving. “Like…revivals and stuff.”

“That would be nice.” He replies. “But nobody comes up here anymore. The locals are afraid of it.”

“Afraid?”

“They think it’s haunted.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not haunted….is it?”

He stares at you, eyes widening. His lips part, as though to speak, but they smooth into a grin instead, creasing his eyes. Suddenly, he bends and starts to laugh. The sound is infectious, high-pitched and breathless, and you find yourself smiling along.

“Depends on your definition of ‘haunted’, I suppose,” he says finally, giggling. He cocks his head.

“My name is Seokjin.”

“Have you lived here long, Seokjin?”

“Just Jin. Please. I’ve lived here for a long while.” Jin’s gaze goes distant. “A very long while. It hurts my heart to see the place falling apart like this. It’s very important to me.”

Your teeth worry the inside of your lip in the pause that follows, unsure whether you should say what you’re thinking. You can’t spend too much longer here—you still have to make it to the library and then back home before it gets dark.

“I’m new here, and I’m going someplace at the moment,” you explain, inwardly hoping he’s not secretly a murderer. “But my grandmother got married at this pond. She passed away not too long ago and I’m trying to clean her house out for now. It would mean a lot to me to see the pond clean, too--before I leave. If there was anything I could do to help…” You trail off, embarrassed.

The man watches you carefully, a smile pulling at his lips. As gentle as his voice is, as sweet his eyes, his stature doesn’t escape you. He looks strong.

“I-I, uh,” you begin again, the click in your head nearly audible, “I actually need help with the shed.”

“The shed?” he echoes.

“Yeah, there’s like, heavy stuff in it. I don’t think I can move it on my own. You know, you help me, I help you…? If that’s okay. I understand if not.”

Jin straightens.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, eyes alight. “I will help you clean your grandmother’s shed if you’ll help me clean the pond. Our deal will be fulfilled when both tasks are done. Sound good?”

“Sounds good…yeah! Sounds good.” You nod.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

He makes a tsk noise through his teeth, leaning back and curling his hands around the rail in front of him. For a second, you’re afraid you might have bartered with the wrong person, but he looks pleasantly, warmly pleased at your offer.

“Can we start tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft as silk. “Just meet me here?”

“I can do that.” Not like you’ve got somewhere else to go.

“Good. I’m so glad.” The young man in front of you looks like you’ve just added ten years to his lifespan, practically glowing as he grins with perfect teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jin,” you reply. You turn away and make your way back to the main road. While you slowly return to civilization, your thoughts steadily turn inwards and you realize what you’ve just done. Who are you, making deals with strangers in strange towns?? The only excuse you can offer yourself is that he was so incredibly beautiful. And so sad. He seemed nice enough, though. Legitimately interested in cleaning the pond, if nothing else. You chastise yourself the whole way down to the library. Day two in this town and you probably just agreed to be murdered out in the middle of nowhere because you saw a pretty man. Shameful.

It’s impossible to deny that you want to see him again, though. And cleaning the place where she got married would have meant a lot to your grandmother, if she was here still. If she was watching. She won’t let you get murdered. You hope.

As you turn the corner, past the intersection you originally turned down, the library rises from the horizon. It’s more welcoming than threatening even with its grand height, old stonework mixed with newer additions to keep the building stable and crawling with picturesque ivy. Absently, you slide your hand over the chipped mane of the stone lion that protects the entrance as you climb the stairs and step inside. It’s cool here, and designed with a touch that seems to meld modern and antique styles seamlessly. It smells like old books and wood polish—old, but well taken care of. Towards the back, twin staircases spiral, reaching for a circular window that casts an impressive amount of patterned light over the upper level. You have to resist the urge to take photos like some gawking tourist, and instead head for the section marked ‘Local’. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, the tall room silent as the grave. If anything, the quiet only helps you focus on the task at hand, browsing with a gentle hand through tour guides and maps of the surrounding areas.

There’s no staff, no music, nothing but you.

You’re too easily distracted by your thoughts and you end up getting frustrated by the sheer amount of maps. Comparing them against the version you have on your phone, there are always missing streets or roads that lead to nowhere—sections marked on the maps as incredibly important sightseeing destinations that aren’t even on the electronic version. Finally, you peel away from the local section, holding onto the one map you could find that seemed remotely useful, if still missing a few pieces of information. Just to the right of the doors is a wooden desk and ontop of it, a bell. You stride over and strike it, the peal ringing out clearly against the tall ceiling. At this point, you’re just hoping to catch a glimpse of literally any kind of living soul inside this building.

“You’re back.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice that instantly sounds from behind you.

When you turn around, you meet deep brown eyes set into a handsome face whose mild expression is difficult to read. A young man stands only about a foot away from you, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere with the absolute silence of his approach. Did you somehow miss him on your way in…? Hair dyed a lavender color, pushed back from his forehead, thick-framed glasses, comfortable-looking sweater—if there was ever a look that screamed ‘librarian’ any louder, you’d be hard-pressed to find it.

“I’m…what?”

He watches you past his glasses for a moment before his soft lips pull into a wry smile and his shoulders drop. “Sorry. I-I know it’s probably been a while. I…know your, um, your grandmother,” He gestures, awkwardly. “The house on the hill, right?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. That’s her,” you finally manage to reply. Damn it, he’s incredibly handsome, too. Should you hand him your credit card now or should you wait until you lose all of your good sense? “Yeah, um. She…y’know, she passed away, so I’m cleaning her house out.”

He blinks, his face falling.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. That must be…hard for you,” he mumbles, but there’s something new in his expression. Was he close to her…? The ensuing silence between you is mortally uncomfortable.

“I-I’m looking for a map,” you stammer, holding up your hand. “Y’know, a recent one.”

“…You seem to have found one.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at the paper grasped in your fingers. “Anything more specific?”

“I need hunting goods. My phone says there’s a store just on the other side of the house, but when I tried to cut through the woods, I got lost.”

The man nods, slowly, thoughtfully. He looks to you and there’s a second of silence between you as you subtly try to figure out what exact shade of brown his soft eyes are. Flush travels up your cheeks as you’re struck with the realization that he’s waiting for you to elaborate. Humour suddenly flashes across his face, breaking the quiet, and he laughs sharply, leaning forwards.

“Directions for a hunting store?” he reiterates through a chuckle. “Kind of a weird first request. The map you’ve got there is the most recent we have. Just follow the main road through the forest.” He pauses. “What do you need it for, anyways?”

“There’s something chewing holes in my grandmother’s house.”

“Ah,” his eyebrows slide upwards, legitimately shocked. He waits, seemingly unsure if you’re serious, before continuing. “And you’re thinking…animals…?”

“Yeah. I already tried to set out a trap but it broke. Something put rocks in it.”

He hums. His head cocks to the side and he tsks through his teeth, pursing his lips and studying the ground as he crosses his arms. “An animal didn’t put rocks in it. I’m surprised you don’t know better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say ‘chewing holes’,” he asks instead of answering, “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s a hole in the porch. It was filled with candy when I moved in.”

“And you…?”

You frown. “I…” you repeat slowly. “Took the candy out and filled the hole? I mean, not very well, but—“

“Mm. Yeah, that’ll do it. You need to put the sweets back.”

It’s your turn to wait, for him to admit to joking. He only looks to you and blinks slowly, patiently. There’s another heavy pause. As you stare at him, his shoulders rise in a shrug.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“You want me to encourage animals boring into the house my dead grandmother lived in?” Your voice escalates as your brows crease, searching his visage for any sign of giving.

“It’s not an animal.”

“Oh my god.” Despair begins sinking in. Your mind swims with the thought of malicious children. “It’s kids. I can’t set traps. Oh, god, what if I accidentally hurt one?...”

He barks another laugh, his eyes scrunching, shoulders shaking.

“What??”

“It’s not children, either,” he says, still giggling.

Your frown only deepens. Is he making fun of you? “I don’t get it. What exactly are you suggesting?”

His laughter subsides into a short chuckle. When his eyes meet yours again, there’s a strange light in them. “You don’t remember much, do you?”

You pull back, somewhat offended. “I was like five the last time I was here?”

He chuckles and pushes his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose with a dramatic air of a teacher getting ready for his least favorite class. “Okay. Alright. From the top, then. Have you heard of faeries?”

“Like fairy tales? Of course I’ve heard of them.”

“Almost. Okay, so most old towns have their own superstitions, right? We have our own kind of faerie. They’re called Keprys. And that’s what you’re dealing with.”

You stare at him incredulously, but he doesn’t look like he’s kidding. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can,” he retorts. “I bet there was something in the house that was really well taken-care of when you got here. Floors swept, cabinets dusted, something like that?”

You think of the dust-covered rooms. “No, not really.”

“Look for it. Whatever it is won’t be done now. Put the candy back, it’ll start up again. Your grandmother had an accord with a Kepry—sweets in exchange for some chore she couldn’t do or didn’t want to do.” He leans against the bookshelf and raises an eyebrow at you. “When you took the candy, you disrupted the agreement. When you put out the trap, you insulted him.”

“Him?”

He ignores you.

“If you leave it alone, or worse, get another trap, it’ll only go downhill from there. He’ll trash the house. If he’s in a good mood.”

Your eyes narrow, your lips pursing. “If this is some kind of local hazing, I’m not into it. I’m not convinced I’m staying, anyways; you’re wasting your time trying to spook me.”

“I swear, I’m being totally legitimate.” He raises his hands, palms facing outwards. “Put the candy back.”

You hesitate, watching him doubtfully. “Okay, smart guy. We’re in a library, so…show me a source. Where’s your books on capris?”

“Kepry.” He clarifies with a slow intonation. “K-e-p-r-y. There’s only one source.”

“If you say it’s you—“

“—But it’s already checked out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To me.”

“To you??”

The man’s eyes flash and his grin returns.

“Tell you what,” He straightens. “I’ll loan you the book. But only if you bring me something of value.”

“I don’t have anything with me.”

He shrugs, pouting mockingly. Without a proper reply, he turns around and starts walking away.

“Why don’t you just give me the book? Isn’t this a library? You’re the librarian—it’s your job, isn’t it??” You call after him, incredulous at his sudden lack of manners.

“I answered your question and gave you free advice.” He spins smartly on his heel to disappear behind a bookcase across the way from you. “You’re in my debt, granddaughter of the lady on the hill.” His voice seems to echo after you from every direction. Strange, you wouldn’t consider the library as that acoustic-capable, at least not from where he was standing.

You huff, and go to follow him. “What do you mean debt—“ You pull up short as you round the corner.

He’s not there. There’s no sign of him behind the books. No sound of him anywhere.

“Hey!” You call out. No answer. The library has returned to its stifling silence. If he thinks you’re gonna waste a second playing hide and seek with him, he’s dead wrong. You stomp your foot and turn on a dime to leave, grumbling about librarians and faeries. ‘Keprys’. He had to have been kidding. Faeries aren’t real. Briefly, you think about the bird from the forest but easily shake it out of your head. You were panicking, lost in a foreign town and scared. Jet-lagged still, probably.

A car passes by the outside of the library as you exit and you’re actually surprised enough by its presence to stop and watch it go. It’s only about the second or third car you’ve seen since coming here. It’s going so slowly—the cobbles must be making the driver unsteady. You move to step behind it, your attention already drifting elsewhere, back to the house and the predicament of animals/not animals boring holes into it. Maybe you have some cash you can give him for the book on faeries anyways. Just for curiosity’s sake.

You’re almost home as you’re lost in thought trying to mentally count up how much money you have to give the librarian for the book. You can see the house now, up on its little hill, with the sparse cottages and small streets that surround it. It’s only just now starting to get late, and the threatening sunset casts a warm blush over everything, turns the shadows into a comfortable purple.

Across the street, not too far from where you are, your attention is claimed by a tiny dog. It’s a fluffy little thing, looking like a ball of soot with legs, black and brown all over. The fading sunlight catches its fur and lights embers in its outline, like a spotlight. You have to stifle a giggle at how business-like it seems, trotting along with such delicate little paws. It turns to survey its surroundings and you could mark the moment when it spots you, pausing with its fluff of a tail pointed skywards midway through a wag. Suddenly, it breaks into a run towards you. Head thrown back in excitement, yipping all the way. You start, but it means you no harm as it runs straight up to your legs and yaps loudly, dancing around your feet so intensely that its whole body actually leaves the ground for seconds at a time.

“Hello, hello!” You greet, delighted if a little surprised. It presses its head against your hand when you lean to pet it, barking and yipping. You oblige, running your fingers through incredibly soft fur, and its whole body stills. Its watery eyes blink slowly, as if savoring the touch. “Who do you belong to?”

It yips and bounces again, spinning in a tight circle, and you can’t help but laugh at the pure joy in the motion. You pet it a few more times, giggling at how eager it seems for affection. “Nobody ever loves you, huh?” You coo. “Poor baby.” After a while, you straighten, and it immediately starts barking again, rising in volume as you move to walk towards the house.

“I have to go home!” You chastise, reaching to stroke it again, but its pitiful noises only get louder. “I’ll see you later, puppy. I promise.”

It follows you up the hill, whimpering pathetically as you unlock the gate and walk inside. You look over your shoulder at it and it cries.

“Go home,” you encourage. “I’ll see you later.”

It sits down in front of the gate, looking at you with such a forlorn expression your heart breaks. You hope its okay, but it seems healthy enough; shiny eyes and coat, well-groomed. Eventually, it’ll go home, surely.

You turn back to the house, the garden catching your eye as you go. Looks like it needs some watering—maybe a little weeding here and there. Why haven’t you noticed since you’ve been here? Oh well. You guess there’s been other things more pressing in your mind. Like getting lost and meeting beautiful men. And the stray cat, can’t forget that. Oh, yeah. The sticks. Your hand flies up to the bag around your neck, rubbing at the remaining stick with a shocked realization. You forgot to look up what kind of wood it was. Maybe you’ll remember tomorrow? You can always ask the mysterious librarian or the man by the pond. He might know a thing or two about local plants. Better ask nice, forthcoming Jin about something like that instead of stingy, disappearing librarian man.

Oh.

You blink.

You never actually caught his name.

Your nose wrinkles as you frown, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. He’d probably charge you for that, too.

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#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts faerie au #stray cat strut #hope you enjoy!#same as ever--try to guess who you met in this chapt :)

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