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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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bangs pots and pans together loudly FIC UPDATE COME GET YALL SOME JUICE

Apparently the vital, missing component to enjoying school was having a friend there. Go figure.

He and Kevin only have that first period class together, but they make the most of it, passing notes back and forth between the two of them, the teacher too tired that early in the morning to notice, or care. Lunch isn’t depressing anymore. They sit together under the shade tree, and Kevin does seem to also appreciate the view. “Can you even imagine working up a sweat, on purpose?” Betelgeuse pats his gut. “You know I can’t.”

“I can’t believe how little the track shorts are. That’s obscene. You think I’d look good in them?” “You join track and I’ll come to every meet, an’ it won’t be for th’ love of th’ sport.” He doesn’t think normal friends talk to each other like this, but he doesn’t actually know. Does everyone flirt with their friends? Are friends just cool people you wanna fuck but haven’t yet? Is it demon hormone bullshit, making him read into everything? Unclear.

It’s all going so good, until it isn’t, suddenly.

One lunch, two months into being there, Kevin pulls a huge and impressive old book from his backpack. “Look what I goooot,” he sing songs, waving it in Betelgeuse’s face, and he sneezes in response. “Smells old.” Emily and Lydia would love it. “It is. It’s very old,” Kevin confirms, and he moves so he’s sitting next to Betelgeuse, shoulder to shoulder, both their backs to the shade tree. “It’s about demons.”

Betelgeuse loses interest immediately, and focuses on not going pink at their shoulders touching, instead. “Z’at so?” he grunts. Kevin doesn’t seem to pick up on his moodiness, though. “It talks about all these ancient beings,” he explains, flipping pages. “Their summoning circles, their aspects,” he gives Betelgeuse a nudge at that, “all the things they can do for you, and the boons they grant.” He feels uncomfortable. “What’s with this? You obsessed with me, or somethin’?” He tries to play it as a joke, but that glint in Kevin’s eyes is back, and he doesn’t like it. “Of course, who wouldn’t be obsessed if they learned all this shit is actually true? It’s like there’s a whole secret world behind a locked door, and I’ve got the key.” Kevin looks back up at him.

He gets the feeling he’s the key. It’s not a good feeling.

“Where’d you even get this fuckin’ thing?” he lifts a finger, and the book slams closed in Kevin’s lap. His friend huffs. “Internet, of course.” “No, I mean… why were you lookin’ for somethin’ like this?” “I want to learn more. Don’t you?” Kev presses, and reopens the book. “I mean, what if there’s something amazing you can do, and you just don’t know, cause you’re not bothering to try?”

“So I’ll never know, so what?” Betelgeuse feels like this is a losing argument, but he tries anyways. “What’s so great about bein’ weird? You’re lucky you’re human.” “Dude, don’t even start with that. You can fly.” “So can humans,” he points out. “Wh- A plane and fucking levitating for fun are not the same, and you know it, BeetleJerk.” Kevin honestly can’t understand why he’s not excited over this. “I just mean… I’d rather be human, than this.” He blinks at his own words, because he’s never expressed that out loud before, ever. But it doesn’t feel untrue. “You’re out of your mind, more so than usual. Every human alive wants to feel special, and do the stuff you can do. Why are you acting like it’s so miserable all of a sudden? You use your powers all the time, I’ve seen you literally teleport five feet because you’re too lazy to walk.”

“You don’t get it.” He’s feeling sullen now, and he wiggles a little away from Kevin, and crosses his arms. “BJ, come on-” Betelgeuse teleports away to under the bleachers, and he eats his lunch there, until the bell rings.

He’s waiting for Emily after school, not feeling particularly friendly, when Kevin approaches. They stand there awkwardly. It feels tense, and weird, and he waits to see what the breather does. “Don’t be mad,” Kevin says, finally. “M’not mad.” “You sound mad.” “You know what mad on me looks like,” he finally turns to look at his friend, amber eyes burning with irritation. “First hand.”

Kevin looks down, and kicks at a rock that might not actually be there. “I thought you’d be excited. BJ, come on, I don’t wanna.. Not be friends over this.”

Betelgeuse signs, and scratches at the scruff on his chin. “It’s not like that,” he relents after a moment. “I just, I don’t care about that stuff. An’ I don’t wanna sit around, focusin’ on it. I don’t exactly like feelin’ different. Yeah, I do tricks an’ use my magic an’ stuff, but it’s hard to control. I lose my temper once an’ I could seriously destroy somethin’, or hurt my family. It doesn’t exactly feel good, knowin’ that. No one else my age can stand me, cause they can tell I’m weird. Before you, it was fuckin’ lonely, Kev.”

He feels a familiar pressure, because Kevin has taken his hand, and the human gives it a squeeze. He accepts it, melting a little against the other boy. “Still friends?” Kevin asks, and Betelgeuse purrs in response, resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder.

It’s not till later, at home, that he realizes Kevin never actually apologized.

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It’s like that, for a while. He knows Kevin still has the book. He knows he’s reading it, and sometimes Kevin will bring up demon stuff, but Betelgeuse has almost exactly a minute and a half of patience for answering questions or hearing about it. Still, Kev doesn’t stop. He might feel angrier if the breather wasn’t so god damn cute.

The air is starting to go cold, and leaves are beginning to fall. October is settling in, getting comfortable, and mom’s starting to break out the Halloween décor. It’s the middle of a kind of gloomy, Autumn day, when things get weird.

Kevin has the book open, much to Betelgeuse’s annoyance, and he’s blabbing away about a demon that supposedly grants wealth- “Do you think you could do that?” -when Betelgeuse looks down at the book, and sees Juno looking back at him. It’s not really her, it’s an illustration, but he’d recognize the bitch anywhere. She’s ink, glaring up from the page, those same age lines etched into her face, confirming his private theory that she’d been an old hag even when she was young. The slit neck is prominent, and as he stares, he sees smoke billow out of it. Oh, fuck no.

He grabs the book and slams it shut, startling Kevin, and then he teleports it directly under them, a mile down in the rock of the earth. Kev blinks for a moment, confused, before looking at his friend. “Wh.. Dude, WHAT?”

“Possessed book,” he croaks out, feeling tense, because he can smell cigarette smoke. “And you’re afraid of it? Why? You are also a literal fucking demon!” “That’s why I’m not messin’ with it!” Betelgeuse stands up, uneasy. The ground around the tree feels weird, now. He doesn’t like it here anymore. “Cause I actually understand why it’s a bad fuckin’ idea! God, you should have instincts that tell you not to mess with this stuff! You’re deficient, Kev, seriously.”

“Me deficient? Seriously?” Kev snaps, which hurts in a new, unexpected way. “Whatever, asshole. Give me my book back.” Kevin stands up, too, but he’s not uneasy, he’s angry.

“It’s better off where it is.”

“Which is where?”

Betelgeuse glances down. The grass around the tree is starting to wither. Kevin follows his gaze, but doesn’t seem to notice the dying vegetation. “You buried it? Come on!”

“Leave it, Kev.”

“This isn’t just your cool secret, anymore, it’s mine too!” Kevin glares at him. “You can’t keep me out of it, BJ. That’s not fair. God, at this point, I know more than you! You should be listening to me!”

He feels his volatile temper flare.

“Ex-fuckin’-scuze me?”

He waits for Kevin to take it back. Instead, his friend doubles down. “Demons have to listen to humans,” Kevin crosses his arms. “If they’re summoned. It’s in the book.” “Nobody summoned me,” Betelgeuse snarls, letting his real snake eyes show, an intimidation tactic that works for about half a second. Kevin’s too used to him, at this point. “I’m up here on a deal.” “Bet I could do it. I bet I could summon you. Then you’d have to listen to me.” “Yeah? Well, good luck without your stupid book!” He storms off, leaving Kevin standing there.

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The rest of the day sucks. He’s moody all day, annoyed in the car, grumpy in his room. He cranks metal and wishes he’d learned to play a guitar instead of his rinky, happy sounding ukulele. The instrument isn’t going to produce the noise he wants to express himself, right now. He throws it across the room, into a wall, where it smashes, and reforms a minute later, because… it’s still his favorite, after all. Even if it’s no good for expressing his teenage angst.

He can hear shuffling, and talking, outside his room, though he can’t make out what’s being said over the music. After a moment, though, there’s a knock at his door. “Hey, Bug?” Emily calls. “Can you come give me a hand with something?” He wants to tell her to piss off, go away, to leave him the hell alone, but.. It’s Emily. The CD player lets out a strangled choke and suddenly stops, and the door swings open, all without him moving from his flopped position on the bed. “Sup, ma?” he grunts. Emily peaks her head into the room, and smiles when she sees him, the expression radiating warmth and adoration and.. Oh, God/Satan, bless his sunbeam of a mother. “Just wondering if you’re free to do a little decorating?” She reaches behind her and grabs a fake severed bloody limb from the box he assumes she’s dragged into the hallway from the attic. “Don’t you worry it takes away from the “wow factor” to do Halloween twice a year?” He asks, standing and stretching, before apparating in the hallway behind her, and giving the decor box a nudge with his boot. “What? No way, there’s never enough Halloween!” Emily grins. “Get that, please.” The box floats along behind him as they head downstairs. They pause in the entryway, as Emily thinks out loud. “So, maybe the kitchen should be-” “Functional as a kitchen, please,” Charles calls from the living room. Emily rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine! Spoilsport! We’ll focus on the entryway for now,” she decides. “You wanna put up cobwebs in the rafters?” She gets on tiptoes to reach into the floating box, and he lowers it a bit for her, as she grabs the fake webbing. “I could just instantly decorate the whole room,” He takes to floating next to the box. “Could make sure it’s all normal human stuff, too,” He adds, before she can respond. “I know you can… But I like decorating,” Emily says brightly. “It’s not about getting it done quickly. It’s about, you know, doing it together.” “So why are dad and Lydia slacking?” Her smile doesn’t falter, but becomes softer. “It kinda felt like you needed some mom time, today,” She says simply. God, she can read him easier than Kev can read his stupid book. “We got in a fight,” he admits. She hums at that, because he only has one friend. It’s not hard to guess who he could possibly mean. “I’m sorry, Bug. What over?” He hesitates. So far he’s not let any of his family in on this book business. He’s been sort of hoping it could just go away on it’s own, and not be a thing. Kevin’s made it into a thing, though, and not telling even his mom feels… bad.

“He’s really into demons. Like, really, really into em,” He rasps, floating up and beginning to put up the spiderwebs, as his mother takes down the usual, sort of spooky wall hangings and trades them for her very intentionally spooky Halloween ones. “He’s got this book, an’ it’s all about demons an’ like, how to summon them, an’ their powers, an’ stuff… Sometimes th’ way he talks, it’s like.. Are we friends cause we’re friends, or friends cause you think I’m gonna be... useful?”

Maybe that doesn't make any sense, but that’s how it’s been feeling, like there’s an invisible shoe hanging midair, and it’s about to drop. His mother waits until he’s finished before looking up at him. “And you fought over that?” She prods. “Not exactly.” How the fuck can she even tell that, though? Damn her mom powers. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this, not to her, but… “I saw Juno. In th’ book,'' He lowers back down to the floor, and digs through the box, pulling out fake body parts. Back up he goes, to stick these in the fake webbing. “It was just a drawing of her, but it started like.. Billowing smoke-”

“From the neck,” His mother remembers, suppressing a shudder.

“Yeah. I could smell the smoke. So I got rid of the book, buried it in th’ school yard, but Kev got all pissy about it. He thinks he’s an expert on this shit, an’ he’s gonna mess with somethin’ big if he keeps this up.” “I’m sure you’ve told him that.” “He doesn’t listen. He gets this look in his eye, like it’s a game, or like… I dunno. Feels sometimes like he thinks he’s…” He searches for the words. “Like he thinks he oughta be the boss a’me, or somethin’.”

He rubs absentmindedly at the moss on his nose. It clings, stubborn as ever, same with the patches by his hairline, and he’s found it’s easier to just add another little layer to his glamour than try to do anything about it.

Maybe that’s indicative of a bigger problem. It’s easier to do a bit of magic and make everything look better than to actually fix the underlying problem. Ugh, introspection, how absolutely miserable. He wants to keep thoughts like that locked away tight, but they have a habit of slipping past his mental defenses and making him feel worse. Absolutely no one can make him feel shittier than he himself can. He sinks to the ground, going purple, and he’s instantly wrapped in his mother’s arms. “It’s okay, Beetlejuice,” Emily has both her hands on the back of his head, and he pushes his face into the crook of her neck. “I just.. I’ve only got the one friend,” he groans. “I don’t wanna stop bein’ his friend, but.. Fuck, ma.”

“I know.” Her voice is a soothing balm. She works her hands through the mess of purple hair at the back of his head. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s lonely at school, but school isn’t forever,” she tries to assure him. “If your friend is treating you this way, well.. He’s not a very good friend. Do you want to be around someone who makes you feel this bad? Does it feel worth it, to you?”

He knows the correct answer is, “No,” but he’s not sure if his self esteem is high enough for that.

“I like him a lot,” He grumbles, and she hums again. “He’s handsome,” She says, and then pulls back far enough to pinch his nose. “But not as handsome as my son, of course,” and it’s silly enough to help knock away his mood, so that’s something, at least. “What should I do?” He doesn’t pull away from her, just soaks up the mom energy for as long as he can. “I think you need to have a talk,” Emily tells him. “Lay out how you’re feeling. Try to get his side of things, and make sure he hears your side, too. Then, at least you both tried, you know?”

It’s such a mom type answer. He groans again.

“I was worried you’d say some shit like that.” She fuzzes his hair, and he feels the tingle in his scalp that means it’s changed colors. Back to green, he assumes. “You know your moss changes color along with your hair? And your creepo-stache?” “Leave the stache alone, it’s tryin’ it’s best,” He pretends to be defensive.

“It makes you look like the founder of a forum for people who marry their cars,” Lydia offers, from the bottom step of the staircase, where she has apparently been just chilling and listening.

“Wh-! Mom, it’s not that bad, right?” Emily tilts her head to the side and gives what can only be described as a condescending smile. “Oh, you’re both in for it now.” He brings the various decor items to life to terrorize them, and then Charles joins his side, sympathizing with his son vis-à-vis bad teenage facial hair, and by the time the whole squabble is over, hardly any decorating has gotten done… But he does feel better. His family’s good like that.

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Monday rolls around, same as it always does, but there’s a weird feeling in the air. Halloween is a week away, barely missing getting a weekend date, but there’s some big Halloween bash the school is apparently throwing. There’s fliers for it everywhere, plastered all over lockers and bulletin boards. He’s not much of a participator, though, and his reaction to his locker being plastered over with invites to a party he doesn't care about is to snap his fingers. All the fliers on all the lockers up and down the hall, all instantly fall loose at once, littering the floor. A few students jump back, but no one looks his way, because why would they?

He’s grabbing his history textbook when he feels a tap on the shoulder, and when he turns, it’s a girl he recognizes, but her name is absolutely lost on him.

“You’re BJ, right?” Miffy askes, and he nods. “Yeah, s’right,” and Margo seems to wince at how gruff his voice is, before continuing. “Um, you and that guy Kevin, you’re like…” Milicent trails off, waiting for him to finish her thought, but sorry, baby, he can barely finish his own. “Like…?” He says, with his gravel voice copying her tone and inflection, and she huffs. “Together?” Marge asks, “Like, all of the time?”

He cocks his head, and squints at her, hands t-rexing at his sides, as Lydia likes to say.\

“Usually,” He concedes, and he gets the feeling he’s dragging this out much, much more than Mango clearly wants, because he spies a group of girls a little ways off, waiting for her. One of them is staring intently, more focused on him, but he pushes that thought aside.

“Look, okay, he’s gonna be out for a few days, and I’m just trying to see if you can take him his homework,” McGrubber has grown tired of having to stand here, talking to the chubby goth loser, apparently. “I’m a student aid in the office and they’re trying to make me do it, but I have track practice!” Thaaaat’s where he knows her from. She looks different, not bouncing and sweating and also not half a football field away. “Sure, fine, I’ll make sure Kev gets his work. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on running in a fuckin’ circle, Maria.” Her face sours. “It’s Blair.” So close. “Who fuckin’ cares,” He replies, and turns back to his locker. He can hear her rejoin her friend group, all of them fawning over her harrowing experience of having to speak to him in public. The last thing he hears from Blair is, “He’s just so goddamn weird,” and then the group rounds the corner.

He closes his locker harder than he maybe needs to.

Kevin isn’t in class that day, or the next, or even the one after. The shade tree has withered and died completely, it’s color sapped and gone, and even walking near it makes him feel uneasy. His new lonely lunch spot is under the bleachers, which feels even more voyeuristic of a spot to watch the track team, but even that activity feels tainted, somehow. He’s back to being lonely.

He can’t stand being lonely.

It gets so bad he contemplates sitting, wait for it, on the bleachers, and maybe even trying to strike up a conversation, but he’s too chicken shit. He’s been going to school with these kids for the past three years, and no one’s wanted to talk to him or chat with him in all that time. He can’t imagine that’s about to change.

Still, on Thursday, miserable and lonely, he gives it a try.

Sitting up here sucks. It’s just a hard metal seat on a gloomy day, and when he’d ventured up and sat down, other people had slowly moved away from him, until he was sitting by himself, all the breathers huddled in a different area, away from him. He'd tried talking, but hardly had a "Hey, how ya doin'?" grated out before the migration began.

Figures.

He finishes eating and lies on his back, resting his hands on his chest, eyes closed, and after a while he feels someone standing over him, and something laid over his hands. He opens his eyes. There’s the most beautiful girl staring down at him. She’s got long, bleach blonde hair, darker at the roots, which is hanging down in a halo around her face, and the biggest, clearest blue eyes he’s ever seen. He glances down, to see she’s placed a daisy over his hand. He looks back up at her, amber eyes questioning.

“You looked so still,” She smiles. Her voice is like music. He thinks he can hear harps. “With your hands folded like that. Kind of like an open casket.” He’d been forgetting to breathe, apparently, which happens sometimes. She thought he looked like a corpse, and she placed a flower over him.

“Sorry, if that’s weird. You’re.. BJ?” She asks, and he picks up the daisy, sits up, and nods. “Yeah, you’re…” “Barbara,” she fills him in. “You’re not so good with names.” “Mmm. Buffy tell you that?” He recognizes her now, from that group of girls. Barbara sits next to him, which makes zero sense. “It’s Blair,” she corrects him gently, but not without a giggle in her voice. “Oh, right.” Her name could be fuckin’ Moonpie and it’d make the same amount of difference to him, but he’d agree with anything Barbara said, if it meant she kept sitting there, talking to him. “Are you going to the Halloween party?” She asks. “Supposed to be pretty killer. It kind of seems like your scene.” “I’m not exactly a social butterfly,” which is the understatement of the god damn century, honestly, but she laughs and nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, I think you should come. I bet you’d have the coolest costume. Maybe think about it?”

“I guess, maybe..” He says lamely, because his brain is short circuiting from that small touch.

“Barb, come on!” someone calls to her from a ways away, on the track. Lunch is nearly over. She stands, and smooths down the long skirt she’s wearing, which is modest but flattering. “Later, BJ,” she smiles, and just like that, she’s gone, like an angel going back up to heaven in a beam of light, off to rejoin her friends. He can hear what she says to them, though. “You guys are mean, he’s not so bad. Just shy.”

He keeps the daisy in a little glass of water on his dresser, and strums love songs on his ukulele.

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Thinking about Barbara and her smile and the way she nudged him is a fun distraction, at least for a little while, but when it’s Saturday, and he still hasn’t heard from Kevin, he decides it’s time to demon up and see what the fuck is happening with him. He’s been just teleporting Kev’s homework inside his room, and he’s sure it’s falling into a pile on the floor each time and startling him, but no one ever said how he had to deliver it. Today though, emboldened by the pretty girl on the bleachers, he appears at Kevin’s front door instead, holding Friday’s work, and he knocks. It takes a moment, but Mr. Loh answers.

Betelgeuse hasn’t had much chance to interact with Kev’s dad. He looks like a normal, tired dad, wholly unimpressive, and kinda short. Chuck could wrestle this guy to the mat, no problem.

“Oh, BJ,” Mr. Loh says, and then glances at what’s in his hands. “Kevin’s homework? Thank you. He’s holed up in his room… won’t come out.. Maybe,” and he suddenly looks hopeful. “You two are friends. Maybe you can try talking to him?”

Well, that’s what he was there to do anyways, so sure. “I gotcha, Mr. L,” he nods, stepping inside, and heading up the stairs and down the hall to Kevin’s room. The closer he gets to the door, though, the weirder he feels. Something stinks, figuratively and literally. It smells like… It smells like the waiting room. It’s that same, veil is thin type air that he can smell on Halloween night, but how the fuck is he smelling it here? He bangs on Kevin’s door. “Hey, Kev, it’s the B-Man,” he calls, trying to keep his tone playful, but he feels like he’s doing a poor job. What the hell is going on? “Come on, man, open up!” He tries again, when he receives no response. He thinks he can hear a shuffle behind the door. “Dude, I will bust this fuckin’ door down,” He growls, all the play gone from his tone. “You know I will. Better yet-”

He appears inside the bedroom, just in time for Kevin to slam shut the closet door. Kevin turns to look at him, back pressed to the wood. There’s a beat, both teens staring at each other, wide eyed, Betelgeuse in that weird way he does, and Kevin looking frazzled. “What,” the demon grates out, “the fuck, are you getting up to in here? It smells like the netherworld, Kev.” Unfortunately, that makes Kevin’s face light up. “It does? Oh my god, that’s perfect! It must be starting to work!” He crosses the bedroom, going to his desk, where an old book is sitting open. It’s not the same one he took from his friend, it can’t be, that book is still a mile down in presumably solid rock. “Another musty ass tome, great,” he growls, but Kevin ignores him, flipping through the book.

He hates feeling ignored.

A black and white striped arm sprouts from Kevin’s desk, and slams the book shut, which makes the breather turn and glare at him. “Get out of my room, BJ,” is all Kevin says, and Betelgeuse ignores that, instead crossing the floor to get a look at that book. “Where th’ hell do you keep finding these fuckin’ things?”

“This one I bought from a one armed man living out of a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale,” Kevin recites. Betelgeuse squints at him, top teeth over bottom lip. “You’re too gay to know what that means,” he says, plainly, and Kevin shrugs. “He wouldn’t stop talking about his stupid car. I now know more about that antique than I know about geography.” It feels fun, for a second, like this drama isn’t happening, and they’re just having a conversation. It doesn’t last, though. He can’t let Kev off the hook.

“So you bought a second cursed book, this time from some amputee homeless guy, and you’re just, doing the rituals inside of it? And this seems like a super good idea to you?”

“I’m practicing,” Kevin replies.

“So what’s in the closet, Kevin?”

“Get out of my room, Betelgeuse.”

The way Kevin says his name is weird. It doesn’t feel like how it normally feels when a breather says the full thing. He shakes it off, and gives his friend a defiant look, before waving a hand and throwing open the closet door. There’s a cleared spot, in the middle of the closet floor, and a fucking summoning circle in what smells like, “Pig’s blood? Couldn’t get human?” He turns to look at Kevin, who is glaring at him intently. He matches the look.

“Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my room.”

That gets his attention. It feels like an invisible hand is pushing him, and he stumbles back out of the room, confused. “W-what?” Kevin is just standing there, staring at him, and Betelgeuse stares back, eyes wild. “You motherfucker,” he hisses, eyes in snake slits, teeth sharp, claws extended. “You wanna do that “real name” bullshit with me? That the choice you’re makin’ here, Kev?”

Kevin doesn’t even look phased. “I’m working on gaining a bit more control, but looks like that works, for now.”

“You’re cracked!” Betelgeuse growls, absolutely furious. “You’re really tryin’ to summon me? Are you out of your head!?”

“You’re wasting your powers,” Kevin storms forward. “You’re a supernatural being, and you go to school and play your stupid ukulele, and don’t even try to do anything bigger. You could be stepping on everyone under you,” his former friend is going red in the face. “You could be leading, you could be ruling, but you just jerk off in your room and play pretend at being human. But someone might as well profit, here. Why not me?”

“I thought.. I thought we were friends,” is all the demon can say, lamely, and Kevin’s smile is the meanest thing he’s ever seen on a breather. “Once you’re fully listening to me, we can be friends again. Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my house.”

He feels that same invisible pull, and he thinks maybe if he was stronger he could resist it, but a demon’s true name is like a lead on a dog, meant to control them, and unfortunately, Kevin has a tight hand on his leash. He makes it to the front door, and stumbles out, covering his face until he can calm himself enough to reapply his glamour.

Shit, he thinks, straightening up, and staring up at Kevin’s bedroom window. He is so fucked. ``````````````````````````````````````````````` Posted this chapter and another over at Ao3. You can read it right here

#beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice broadway #lydia deetz #emily deetz #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice the musical

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

Of Blood and Static

Chapter 6: These writings on paper are all I have of you.

(AO3) (First) (Previous) (Next)

Word Count: 7558

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The Lady is aware of the loops. She's aware of how the struggle seems endless - no matter how desperately she clings to the hands of those she loves, they're always forced from her grasp as she watches them fall fall fall fall fall each time.

They always fall.

Over and over, be it by her hand or some unforeseen force.

Always always always always always.

The girl in the raincoat falls.

Mono falls.

Even RK falls.

And she's left having to witness them each time.

The loops continue even as a new member joins the fray, and she's left wondering if dragging him into this mess was worth it, if it was worth trying to break the loops in a fruitless attempt of escape. They can never escape - haven't they learnt this as children already? The forces that control this world will always win out, and they will always remain trapped no matter how desperately they struggle.

She's aware of the loops. How she's always the last of them to die. Each repetition takes its toll on her. She never breaks as a child, not yet fully aware of the weight of the loops to succumb and break down when she sees her friends, but aware enough that she clings to their hands when she sees them, feels an uncontrollable urge to protect them and never let go.

The girl in the raincoat falls after the Pretender lunges at her, despite all that Six does to try and keep her alive.

She lets Mono fall after a hopeless feeling strikes her core, and she knows that dropping him is the only option she has.

And she watches as RK falls to his death as an adult, no matter how much she reinforces the railings, no matter how much she tries to race or teleport after him to try and catch him.

She's aware of the loops. Aware that the tragedies continue to build and build and build despite all their struggling. The girl in the raincoat dies, leaving behind the raincoat that Six inherits. Mono becomes the Thin Man, relegated to helping from behind the screen and retainer of all their memories. RK becomes the Caretaker, doomed to die in an accident before he reaches his true potential.

And she is forced to watch it all happen, powerless to truly stop anything.

She is aware of the loops.

She stands in front of a television screen, wishing it would turn on. She wants to hear his voice again. She wants to know how he sounds as an adult. But she can't. His loop has already ended, and she can't reach out to him until the next one has reached its midlife. Still, it doesn't stop her from placing her hand on the screen and wishing that it would turn on.

The Caretaker had already fallen earlier in the day. She'd almost grabbed his hand before he slipped away, mere centimeters away from her own hand. He'd fallen with a terrified expression, a look of realization that all his struggling to stay alive was for naught as the Maw jerked and jolted to keep him from taking any more steps forward in their plan. She left his body where it laid - her one vase was already filled up with his ashes, and anyway, she could feel her time running out soon enough.

Her loop ends in blood and blood and blood. When she looks up at her younger self, mouth covered in viscera, she can see so much of her own pain reflected back at her.

"I'm sorry," she gasps out, the child looking more and more confused as she stares down at the Lady. A boy in blue grabs her hand, dragging her away from the Lady as she lies there dying alone. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where her hands are never cold.

She's aware of the loops.

But she's not the only one aware.

She opens her eyes, and Mono is running by her side, his paper bag still on his head. Before she can say a word, he tugs her into a room that is empty of life. They take a moment to rest, having little to worry about in the moment now that they have no one chasing them. Mono looks around the room, taking in the strange paraphernalia littered around it. A small statue sits on the ground, and he grabs it, dragging it to Six. Six takes it wordlessly, a familiar destructive feeling surfacing up from... somewhere.

She picks it up and throws it on the ground, shattering the statue with relish. When she turns to Mono with a smile, he's got his attention focused on the scattered posters on the ground. He takes one, looks it over, and folds it up to put in his pocket. She takes his hand and gives it a little shake, nodding to the posters and then to him.

He presses a finger to the front of his bag. It's a secret. Frowning, she bends down to pick up a poster herself, but he gets in the way and shakes his head. Not yet. But soon. He pats his pocket and points to himself, and then to her. He'll tell her soon enough. She takes his word for it, nods as they continue to search the room.

Events continue, and she finds herself dangling Mono over the chasm beneath them. He looks up at her with sad, sad brown eyes as she cries. Don’t make her do this, don’t make her do this-

"Six," he whispers, because they're not used to speaking normally yet, and perhaps they never will, "it's okay."

"No," she gasps, and her tears fall faster when he smiles up at her. Her arm hurts, and he’s already starting to slip from her grasp. "Don't make me do this, please."

"It's okay, I won't be mad. I even left a surprise in your pocket." When she doesn't let go, he yanks his own hand from her grasp with that sorrowful smile. She yells and reaches for him again, but he's already gone gone gone into the abyss, leaving her to leave by her lonesome. When she makes it to the exit, she checks her pocket just as her Hunger already begins rearing its ugly head.

A poster for the Maw. Nothing as special as she'd imagine it would be.

"Turn it over," her Shadow whispers, and so she does.

A doodle of an ugly man in a boat with a face that sags and stretches until all that is visible are the long holes that could be his eyes. And then the words written in a rushed, childish scrawl:

"Ask him to come back."

She's aware of the loops.

But she's not the only one aware.

The Caretaker carries around a notebook. When she first asked about it, he'd shyly put it away and waved her away, saying it was full of notes he'd written down. She'd shrugged it off, having other tasks to attend to. It wasn't until after she (re)introduced him to the Thin Man that he revealed what it was he was carrying around.

Items on the Maw carry over from previous loops. It's how the television stays in place, it's how her library remains untouched and the same no matter how often she dies. The only things that change are the faces of the Guests and children.

...Well, for the most part.

The Caretaker pulls her aside after her conversation with the Thin Man ("Did you see my note?" "Of course I did." "Will he come back?" "He said when the time is right."), and holds out the notebook. "I'm sorry I didn't share this with you before but," he flips through the notebook, showing off page after page of scribbles and doodles, charts and diagrams, "I wanted to wait for the right time to show this to you."

She takes the notebook out of his hands and realizes. Realizes that this was one of the many things on the Maw that carried over from previous loops. The Caretaker is one of them now, and as a result...

"These hold your memories," she breathes out.

"Well, not quite, but close enough." He takes it back, thumbing through each page carefully. "Reading each word reminds me of something, but I can never quite grasp it. Still," he taps at a diagram showing the outside of the Maw from the top down, "it looks like I've been planning this for ages. This shows potential docking areas away from where the Guests usually board. It gives me an idea."

"Just an idea?"

"It's something we can work with." He shrugs while grinning blithely. "And frankly, I think we all could use something to work with."

Of course, even after that one little spark of hope, the Thin Man still dies at the hands of Mono. The Caretaker falls before her very eyes, bones snapping and head cracking on the cold, unwelcoming floor of the Maw. And as she sits in her loneliness, humming her familiar tune, she waits for that bright, yellow raincoat to pounce upon her.

She is aware of the loops.

But how much longer can she take before she stops trying altogether?

She is aware of the loops.

They scratch at her memories, drag her around like a toy, and her Shadow continues to watch and remember in her stead until they're one once again.

She is aware of the loops.

Aware that they've done this song and dance over and over again with no end. She doesn't understand how Mono can keep this up. How RK continues to go along with this horrible reality, as if he's always been a part of their team. Is he just as single-minded as Mono? They truly would get along so well if that were the case.

Six stays where she's lying on the ground, Mono hopping around on the piano beside her.

"Six, come help me."

"I'm tired." Despite their journey having only lasted the day thus far, she's already feeling this deep-seated weariness that she can't place. Mono must sense it too, for he stops hopping around and lands on the ground next to her. He sits besides her, tangling their fingers together and humming the tune from her music box.

Something about it makes her want to sob. But that's stupid. Sobbing in a place like this is stupid. It's what gets them caught by monsters - the noise, the weakness, the vulnerability. In fact, she should be getting up right now so that they can continue moving.

Mono rubs his thumb into her hand, humming to her as she lies on the ground.

"We can stay here for a little bit."

"Thanks." He doesn't move from where he sits, and she's grateful for it. "Can we just stay here? It's quiet, and no monster can get in here easily."

"It's not that safe." Mono looks away from her and sees something that she can't see. "But there's somewhere else we can go. Somewhere where there are no monsters, and we can laugh and run all we want. I'm sure we'll get there soon enough."

"How soon?" She's tired. So. Very. Tired. "I want to sleep."

"Soon," he says, and he holds out his hand for a pinky promise. "But until then, I promise I won't leave you alone."

"Good." She hooks her pinky with his and gives it a firm shake. "I'll bite you if you do."

A silent laugh shakes his frame, and she can't help but smile up at him. She wants to stay like this with him, where he can be happy and she can be happy and they can be happy together, like it's normal to be happy.

But they're not meant to be happy. Happy means letting their guard down. Happy means forgetting that they're in constant danger. She's reminded of this when they're cowering in a child's room, and the Thin Man holds his hand out and grabs her. A monster with gentle, gentle hands.

The world is cruel, with their moments of tantalizing happiness and monsters with gentle hands. The world is cruel, because it lets her believe that there's a happy ending somewhere if she just tries hard enough. But maybe that's where her failure lies.

In believing that her efforts are worth something, when really her efforts amount to nothing.

She presses a hand up against the glass. It doesn't turn on, but that's okay. She's gotten used to the loneliness long, long ago.

"What happened to promising to never leave me alone?"

No one answers her.

Her life amounts to standing in a puddle of blood, surrounded by the sounds of broken static.

The loop ends as it begins, and she closes her eyes with the hopes of never opening them again.

She is aware of the loops.

Every bit of her wants to give up, to succumb and let herself mindlessly follow the flow of tragedy, but her stubborn, stupid, terrible friends refuse to give up. Sometimes, she wishes she never introduced them to each other, what with their antics giving each other hope. But then something warm shakes her from her thoughts. The Caretaker takes her hand and tugs her up topside of the Maw. It's overcast, and the threat of rain looms overhead. She closes her eyes and lets the cold air wash over her.

It reminds her of the Pale City.

"We're so close," he says, fingers intertwining with hers. "We just need one more thing."

"What kind of thing?" Rarely is she able to help. Instead, she asks all these empty questions that do nothing but serve as a vessel for their thoughts. It's the least she can do, when all she does is let them fall.

"I need... to find a place. Away from all the adults, away from all the monsters." He taps his chin, deep in thought as the clouds shadow their faces. "But surprisingly, your library lacks maps of any sorts."

"Unfortunately." She stares out into the vast sea. Not a single landmass in sight. Given that they just recently picked up their latest batch of Guests, it comes as no surprise to her that the Maw has steered itself so far away from any coastlines. "The ship goes as it pleases, after all."

"And it doesn't surface often." He tugs on her hand to swing it back and forth. How childish of him. "I thought maybe standing out in the open would cheer you up."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been... incredibly down lately." A thoughtful hum. "Lifeless. You glide around the Maw, attending to every sort of business but your own. Even when you talk to the Thin Man on those few occasions, I hardly hear you say a word. He's noticed too, you know." She can't help the little twitch she makes at the mention of the Thin Man's concern. "He's worried about you. Says that you've been getting more and more quiet."

Of course he noticed. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I don't think so." The Caretaker squeezes her hand lightly with a smile. So much like his title, it's hard to see him as an adult. How did he end up so normal? "We'll get through this, dear Lady. It's only a matter of time."

"How lucky are we then, to have so much of it?" The waves start to breach the ground they stand on, and she begins dragging him back to the door. "Though it seems our time here is up."

He looks around, taking in the sight of the sky before she closes the door on the outside. "Only for now. Someday, we'll see those blue skies I read about in storybooks. The blue skies from your favorite stories."

"Hmm." She doesn't say anything more as she takes him deeper into the Maw, away from railings as they continue on their day.

He dies six days later in a bloodied heap on the floor.

She kneels by his body, fingers carding through his hair as she hums her familiar tune, his head in her lap as she waits for the time to pass.

Soon, her time will be up and she'll have her moment of rest.

Her loop ends at the hands of a girl in a yellow raincoat, and she wonders if the girl knows just what kind of living hell she's walked into?

She tires of the loops.

The awareness stings at the corners of her mind as she's strung upside down, the feeling so hopelessly familiar that she wonders if being captured is the only thing she's good at. The Bullies cackle beneath her, but the mocking only lasts so long until a familiar grunt is heard, and the sound of breaking porcelain echoes in the bathroom. She's dropped unceremoniously from where she's strung up, and when she comes to, a familiar boy in a paper bag offers his hand to her.

When she takes his hand, she lets all of her weariness flop her around, and the boy has to support her until she gets her bearings. Silently, he takes her hand and drags her around until they find a room with a piano. She half expects him to start jumping on it (it's obvious that they need to use it to break the floor beneath it), but instead, he sits her down and... lets her breathe.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"No." She hugs her knees to her chest and rests her face against them. "Tired."

"...Yeah." He doesn't say anything more and lets the silence reign between them. It lasts for a total of two minutes before he pipes up again. Mono was never really good at keeping quiet like this, after all. "What do you wanna do if we ever get out of the City?"

"Dunno," she says, eyes drifting close. She's so tired. "Maybe find a soft bed. Sleep forever."

"Sleeping forever sounds... kind of nice." Still, he shakes his head, and the paper bag crinkles with his movement. She crinkles her nose in response and flicks his bag. He makes an affronted noise, which is enough to make her giggle. "Meanie. But okay, but like, what would you do after you slept? Like, what would you do when you wake up?"

"Dunno," she repeats. It's not really a thought process she tends to follow. "Eat? Maybe do something fun. Like kick a ball around. Or lie in the grass. Maybe read a book." She pauses for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as though she can see it. "What would you do?"

"Hmm." He lies beside her and folds his hands on his stomach. "I want to see the sun. Did you know there's something called the sun? It's supposed to be bright and warm and dry."

She ponders his comment. Has she ever seen the sun before? Probably not. "Where'd you hear about that?"

"I think the Teacher was scribbling about it on the board when I was sneaking around. It's supposed to be hot and full of gas." He gestures aimlessly in the air. "I bet if she could talk, she'd say like, only good students get to see the sun, so they better study good or else! And then she’ll whack a desk with her ruler."

"Ew." Six crinkles her nose in disgust this time. "I hope her ruler breaks."

"Yeah, she probably breaks them all the time. She's just a big ol’ meanie."

"All monsters are mean."

"You're right." They grow quiet together, listening to the pitter patter of the rain before Mono suddenly sits up. "Oh! I found this in one of the rooms I was trying to get through." He searches through one of his stupidly big pockets (seriously, how does he fit an entire collection of hats in his pockets?) and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it, and unfolds it, and unfolds it...

She snatches it out of his hands and shakes it open impatiently.

"Hey!" He snatches it back out of her hands and holds it carefully. "Don't do that!"

"You were taking forever." She rolls her eyes and helps him straighten out the huge sheet. The top and bottom are torn messily as the paper feels oddly fake and like a weird kind of plastic. On it is a large, red scribbled eye that takes up most of the paper, but beneath that eye are shapes that she's never really seen before. She points to one shape and frowns. "Someone doesn't know how to draw a triangle."

"That's not a triangle, silly." Mono straightens out the paper and points at all the different shapes on it. "I think this is a map!"

"A map?"

"Yeah, it's supposed to show you all sorts of different places." His finger traces all the shapes on the map, humming to himself as he does so. "If we're gonna leave the Pale City, we gotta figure out where we should go from here."

"Where's here?"

"Um..." Mono squints at the map, but the entire thing is a mess of lines with red scribbles and confusing markings. He sighs with defeat. "I dunno. There's no words on it."

"So how do we know where we are?"

"...We don't."

"...That's okay. Maps are dumb anyways."

Despite her words, they both stare at the map in silence. Six begins tracing over the shapes herself, wondering where each place could be, and how long it would take to walk there. She points to a lonely blob in the middle of the ocean and wonders who lives there, and if they're just as lonely as the blob. "What do you think is here?" she asks softly, gaining Mono's attention.

"Hmm..." He taps his chin, making the paper bag rustle with his movement. "Maybe more kids? And no adults."

"No monsters."

"Clean water."

"And food everywhere."

"Maybe even toys!"

"Balls?"

"And blankets and pillows!"

"Music boxes..."

"Lots and lots of music boxes." Six glances over at Mono, and even though his paper bag obscures his face, she knows he's smiling at her. "I bet they all play different songs too."

"That'd be nice." She smiles back as Mono begins folding up the map. He folds it and folds it and folds it until the large sheet manages to be pocket-sized, despite how bulky it becomes. After a bit of consideration, he hands it over to Six.

"You take it."

"Why?"

"So that you can pick where we go once we get past the Signal Tower!"

"But I don't have any pockets."

"Huh." He looks over at her shorts and cardigan and realizes that she's right. "We should find you something with pockets."

"Yeah." She watches as he pockets the map and stands up, offering her a hand up. Once she grabs it, he easily pulls her up as they look over at the piano.

"Guess we should start going, huh?"

"Yeah."

It was nice while it lasted.

They continued their journey, Six getting her raincoat along the way. Somehow, when she wasn't paying attention, Mono must have slipped the map into her pocket. He probably meant it as a surprise, maybe a last minute, "Watch this, a magic trick!" sort of gimmick to make her smile that he never got to use. After all, she dropped him to his doom. She'd forgotten all about the map, too focused on growing into her role as the Lady that when she'd packed away the yellow raincoat, she'd almost missed the strange bulge in the pocket.

Taking it out was surprisingly difficult. It amazed her that she never noticed the tightly folded up sheet until now. However, she had little use for it - the Maw steers itself, and therefore, she never needed to learn how to read maps.

But.

She knew someone who could make use of it.

Quietly, as she walks past him, she presses the wadded up map into the palm of his hand, so small that it’s impossible to see being passed along the two of them. The Caretaker didn't so much as glance at her, closing his fist around it immediately and shuffling off to his own quarters. There was little she could do with the map, but with what he'd shown her of his notes from previous loops... maybe... just maybe...

The Maw laughs at her with its mocking groans as her hope quickly turns to despair. As it turns out, she'll never know what he figured out with that map this loop. Having any sort of hope means that any sort of means can be used to squash it before it can bloom. And who else to pay for her crime than the man who gave it to her in the first place?

He barely even shares a single conversation with the Thin Man before she finds him toppling over into the drop between the Janitor’s workspace and the kitchen, meathooks dangling above and below him as the Maw careens yet again into another obstacle. All because he wanted to chat with one of the Chefs on their break, standing so close to the edge that she should have known better but instead was too busy watching the other Chef prepare their meals.

So of course she hears his scream too late, the Chef’s startled cry echoing her own as he too fails to grab the Caretaker’s hand. Crashes and bangs ring out as both Chefs hold her back, keeping their Lady from following the same fate as she screams for him over the ledge. It’s one of the few times she can’t find his body no matter how hard she searches. The Thin Man could only do so much to comfort her before he too disappeared from her company.

And again, she was left alone. Always so alone.

She waits for her loop to end, only for it to begin just as quickly the minute she closes her eyes. All she wants is a break. A small reprieve. But even that is too much to ask.

Events played out as they should. Little divergences are made here and there, but nothing so drastic that it feels like it matters. A hand is pressed against the warm glass of a television. Quietly, she asks, "Why do we keep doing this?"

He answers back, "So that we may have a future where we can all smile together."

And she asks him, "Didn't you want to quit long ago?"

And he responds, "Didn't you want these to continue long ago?"

And she laughs. Cries a little when she replies, "How the roles have reversed."

His head bows. "I'm sorry."

Her fingers curl. "Don't be."

So he asks, "Why did you want them to continue so long ago?"

To which she explains, "I thought it was our only method of survival." A pause. "I was wrong."

"Not entirely," he says. "As terrible as they were, it made me realize something."

"What was it?"

"I wanted more than just survival, to live to see another pointless, repetitive day." His head tilts back up, making her believe that he's looking at her as he speaks with the words on the screen. "I wanted us to be free."

"That's quite different from my reasoning."

"A bit." She can see him lean back in his seat with his hands folded in his lap. "But sometimes, it makes me wonder if our reasons are really that much different from each other."

"Perhaps," she says with no follow up. The two of them stay in silence, basking in the other's presence. She misses holding his hand. Her forehead presses against the screen, porcelain mask clinking delicately against it. "I want to see you again."

"Soon," he soothes, because that's all he can do.

Their conversation ends with a flurry of static as the Thin Man is taken away by the Signal Tower to do some tasks. Her sigh is heavy as she turns away from the screen. "Soon" is such a finicky word, she decides. It's been used so often that she thinks that it no longer means "a short wait". How often has he told her "soon", only to have her suffer through loop after loop?

(Though, didn't she used to do the same to him?)

A blue blur barrels into her as she makes her rounds, interrupting her thoughts as hands grasp her arms.

"Lady," the Caretaker says breathlessly, "there's something I need to tell you."

"Did you read something about vegetables again? I told you, I'm not eating them-"

"No- though, we still need to have a talk about that at a later time but- it's something more... groundbreaking." His hands splay out in the air with dramatic fanfare before taking her hand, tugging her along in a manner that has her gripping his tightly. They travel down the halls at a brisk pace, shuffling past Guests that lumber aimlessly through the passages until they take a quick turn into the back paths of the Maw. He thumps towards the engine room, veering off into a secluded area that has the nomes shuffling past him anxiously once they see her in tow. A little side room is uncovered as he pulls open a loose panel and steps into it. Inside is... a map. With a large red eye scribbled over it. Lines and words are written in black to stand out against the red drawing, arrows pointing this way and that, X's made to mark specific areas, and scribbles scratching out areas unwanted. Little writings litter the map, notes made of certain areas until her eyes are drawn to a teeny, tiny island circled excitedly in black ink.

("What do you think is here?")

"Caretaker?"

"Six, look." He drops the title as he points at the island with a bright grin. "I found it. A place that's devoid of any life!"

"...Sounds peachy."

"I mean- I mean there's no one who lives there. It's deserted, out of reach, completely uninhabited." He picks up a pen and circles some notes and draws arrows leading back to the island. "My notebook tells me about these... these conversations with someone named the Ferryman. There's not a lot about him, but from what my notebook has recorded, he doesn’t seem like a horrible person. He cares about the children and wants them to be safe. Granted, he tends to drop them off here, but the notebook says he’s nice, if a bit weird. It also seems like he knows his way around the ocean. I'd say he might even know where this island is."

"I know of him.” Memories of being dragged aboard a wooden rowboat repeat in her mind as the saggy faced boatman stays silent during their trip. She never saw him again after that. “I can only assume it'd be near impossible to reach him."

"Not for me. Not for the Caretaker." A nome wanders over to them, allowing the Caretaker to bend down and pick them up. He cradles them in his arms as he looks at the Lady expectantly. "I take care of the children. I ensure they remain safe and relatively alright. If he were to entrust the children to someone, he'd have to entrust them to me."

Slowly, she makes the connection. "You've met him before."

He nods, holding the nome closer to his chest. "And according to my notebook, countless times before. It looks like there's a meeting spot somewhere on the Maw where he drops off any children he finds in his journeys. If I meet him there, I can ask about the island. It'd be a place where children can not only survive, but thrive." A glance is shared between the two of them before they focus on the map before them. "Somewhere where no child will have to step foot inside the Maw."

"...Or be taken to the Tower."

The Caretaker nods solemnly. "I had to tell you this soon, before my time runs out."

She turns abruptly to him as he shares a sad smile. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." He puts down the nome and takes out his notebook. Thumbing through the pages, he hardly looks up as he speaks. "Each time a discovery is made, the entry stops there. Nothing continues until I pick it up again. Each day is marked with a tally, see? Even if I have nothing of note, I always mark down the day." He brings it towards her face to see the little tally marks that line the borders of the pages. "Each new start begins when I find the notebook, and I start to dig. Not a lot of time spans between start and finish. It didn't take me long to figure out why."

"...RK-"

"If my guesses are correct, I think I’m going to die soon."

"RK, please-"

"Six." He stows away his notebook and gently takes her hands. When had she started wringing them? "Listen to me."

She stills, all of her attention on him as she memorizes as much as him as she can. How his bangs still fall over his eyes no matter how often she trims them for him. How his gaze always tends to look sleepy until he's around something that demands his attention. How his feet are covered in calluses because he forgets to wear his geta frequently after a life of running barefoot as a child. How the scarring on his right leg remains prominent after all these years even after they managed to get that awful manacle off his leg.

She memorizes all this and more. Like how his hair looks when it's coated with blood. Or how his eyes glaze over as they loll in his head. Or how the blue of his haori both blends and clashes with the red soaked up from his broken body, a shade she still struggles to put a name to despite seeing it so often.

RK squeezes her arms, drawing her out of her head. Quietly, he removes her mask and gently dabs at her cheeks. Ah, she forgot she can still do that.

"It's going to be okay."

"No it's not." Her mind spirals at the thought of having to watch him fall again. How many times does she have to watch him fall? "You know you're going to die, how is that okay?"

"Because." He presses his forehead against hers, solid and reassuring. "It gives us some time."

"For what?"

"To make sure we don't waste whatever moments I have left."

She closes her eyes as she focuses on his warmth. "What do you need of me?"

"I just need you to leave this bottle at one of the drop sites for the Ferryman." He pulls away just enough to retrieve a bottle stashed away in his clothes. She takes it without complaint, rolling it between her hands like a toy. "After a few days, return and see if he's left a response. Whatever you find, write it in my journal and sign it with your real name."

"That's it?"

"Small actions can go unnoticed," he whispers, pulling her in for a tight hug. "And that's what we need in a world where we're always being watched."

Her eyes close as she leans into his warmth. How she ever managed to get through previous loops without his constant support and comfort is beyond her.

(The thought of eating a nome revolts her more than the thought of vegetables. It only makes her despise the Hunger even more, with how it digs its claws into her and makes her crave living flesh, making her the monster that she is now.)

They part not long after that, her drawing away from her dear friend reluctantly as he shoos her off, making sure the bottled message is safe in her clutches before disappearing to do whatever he needs to get done. It comes as no surprise to her that after she places the bottle where he asked, safe and secure in a nest of rope, that he tumbles before her very eyes once again and lands with a sickening crunch just a few days later.

Once she's grieved over his body for what scant minutes she possesses, she rushes off to the drop site and looks for the answer he needs.

Another bottle sits in its place, innocently out of place as she retrieves it. The message inside is released and she reads the response in RK's place. When she finds his notebook, she quickly scrawls down the answer to his message:

"Aye, but it won't be easy."

It's the last thing she manages to do before her loop ends violently. Closing her eyes has never been easier, and it makes waking up even harder than before.

She is aware of the loops. Anyone who lives constantly in them must hold some level of awareness regardless of how much they desire to live in blissful ignorance. Does it help that each loop is a promise that she can reunite with Mono, even though it will always end with her betraying him in the end? Does it help that each loop is a promise that she will get to meet RK again, even if it's at the cost of his untimely death?

Does it help that she gets to see that girl one last time, get to see her smile of gratitude before she ends up like every other child in this wretched, despicable world?

Maybe.

She's still not sure if it's enough to have her push through with each iteration. But when Mono offers his hand to her, she still takes it. When RK follows her around, she allows it. And when the girl stops to help her up, she still moves to push that same, useless boulder.

Quietly, she hums to herself.

The world is loud and frightening, with monsters at every corner waiting to kill her as a child. When she grows up, she becomes another monster at the price of survival. Her eyes open, as they always do, to the sight of the loop unfolding all around her. Little changes create large ripples, that’s what they tell her. She watches these ripples passively from a distance. That's all she can muster nowadays. Passing along messages, carrying around items to give to the other recipient, always acting the willing messenger. It helps that she always dies last.

The scribbles on RK's map grow by the loop. Mono's determination only grows stronger as he passes along the things he finds to RK. And what does Six do, besides be their messenger?

She blinks, and words flit across the screen just for her eyes to see. "You're the key to all of this," he states. "Don't doubt your importance."

"As a porter?" she scoffs.

"No, as our last fighting chance."

"Against what?"

"Against all odds." His hand reaches out from beyond the screen to cup her face tenderly. It strokes just beneath her mask's eye, presenting a comfort she doesn’t think she deserves before reluctantly pulling back into the screen. "You're the spiteful spitfire who will last the longest out of all of us. And we're depending on you to bare your teeth and fight when we can't."

She blinks, and the television is gone. A hand rests gently on her shoulder in the library, a soft hum coming from the other. "This wouldn't work without you, you know."

"Flattery gets you nowhere."

"It's the truth though." He squeezes her arm with a smile. "Who else would be strong enough to strongarm a change like this?"

"Not me."

"You're lying to yourself." His touch is soft as he holds her hand in companionship. "How else would I be here? I know these loops have lasted longer than my existence." He grins brightly at her without a hint of malice. "Somehow, you dragged me into this mess through sheer will. It always feels oddly surreal being here. I always feel like… I was never meant to live this long.” A distant look settles in his eyes, and it’s one of the few times where she can’t figure out what’s going on in that mind of his. With a quick shake of his head, he clings tighter to her hand for reassurance. “But somehow, you made it work. Who am I to not return the favor?"

How did she end up with two wonderful, lovely, amazing, brilliant friends?

They believe in her. For whatever profound or idiotic reasons they may have, they believe in her. To fight, to continue surviving, to refuse to step down - that's what they claim they need from her. So she continues what she does best. When she wakes up, she puts one foot in front of the other and continues forward. She survives, in spite of all the hardships and monsters that block her path. And as she survives, she keeps seeing them again and again and again. Perhaps it's her selfishness at work again. Dying to wake up to be found and chased and found again. Waking up to run and fight and see them again.

Waking up to see the girl in the raincoat still alive, still radiant and doing her best to help any child she comes across. Kind until the very end, when she perishes due to no fault of her own.

Waking up to see an axe drive itself over and over again into a wooden door as a boy forces his way into her life, and she grows less and less resentful, and more and more grateful for his presence.

Waking up to find food presented to her in hopes of staving off her hunger, a tentative but hopeful smile on the face of a boy still getting used to the idea of helping other children. He grows up beside her, knowing of her antics and behaviors and being the only one exasperated yet fond of her actions.

She wakes up again and again just to see them over and over. She wakes up because despite how the world seems intent on taking them away from her, she refuses to let things be until she sees them again.

Her hands are cold, but she refuses to let them stay that way.

A part of her hurts knowing she can't save them all. Her selfishness rears its head again as she desperately tries finding a way to twist fate, allowing another of them to live - another of her precious friends to stay alive. But nothing goes her way for that one moment; there is no rope to dangle down, not another boulder, no tree root she can tear out, no amount of reaching down to save the girl in the yellow raincoat. A terrible thought plants itself in her mind as she watches her die for the umpteenth time - perhaps her death is what makes her so much more desperate to see that her two other friends stay alive until the very end.

Six clutches tight to the yellow raincoat she wears.

She has to make sure they survive. If she can't save them all, then she can save as many as she can.

Her resolve blossoms anew, and she thinks that maybe she understands what Mono finally discovered after suffering loops upon loops of disappointment. When she presses her hand against the warm glass of the television, complete understanding is finally shared between the two of them.

"So, when will you come to get your meal?"

"Soon, I promise."

"I’ll hold you to it."

But of course, nothing goes her way. It never goes her way.

The first time she realizes something's wrong with the Thin Man is when she attempts to reach out to him like normal. She is met with a hazy sort of static, his visage distorted and broken before the screen did something it never did before - it lost signal.

Multicolored bars appear, surrounding a single image of an eye as it leers at her before shutting off. She (hopes, prays, begs, refuses to acknowledge) assumes that the television is finally meeting the end of its long, beleaguered life and asks the Caretaker to help her find a new one for her quarters. But even with the new television set up in her quarters, the television still says that there is no signal.

"...Something's wrong." The Caretaker places his palm against the screen with a newfound horror in his eyes. "They're finally making a move." Their gazes meet for a moment before drifting towards the Eye insignias that have followed them through each and every loop.

She’d forgotten that they were a warning as much as they were decoration.

The true horror of the situation is made apparent to her when she faces down her tiny successor. Her form is rigid, stiff, but not with the desperate strength of a child trying to survive and conquer.

No.

The little brown bag that threatens to fall from her pocket is more than enough for the Lady to understand what the Tower had done.

She dies at the hands of an angry, grief-stricken little girl, and the only thing she could do is hope that her new iteration clings to that rage as she grows up.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln lady #ln thin man #ln runaway kid #ln six #ln mono #six is like 'man i LOVE feeling hope for once'#and then there's me #holding up a bat and swinging it at mono's head like #'lmao you say sumthin'#anyway the map joke was originally supposed to be like #'hey this map is cool what do the words say mono'#'i can't read'#'its okay reading is stupid anyways'#but then i remembered i made them super literate so now its the 'maps suck' joke #ANYWAY!!!#HOMESTRETCH FOLKS WE GETTIN IT!!

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themangledsans0508 · 3 years

Text

Entering the Dungeon because Bonnie said so

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline came to Bonnie's aide when she called for Finn and Jake. She didn't expect to be going down a hundred floors while dealing with a shady princess.

Basically, I played Enter the Dungeon over the past two weeks and I have been writing this since the second night of playtime. Trying to write things before I forget them and it is following the canon of the game with some creative liabilities taken.

Words: 3616, Oneshot

Warnings: General Depictions of Violence

Characters: Bonnibel Bubblegum, Marceline Abadeer, Flame Princess

Ships: bubbline

Additional Tags: quests, dungeons, childhood trauma, swearing, adventure, conflict, kind of resolved kind of not, I feel like marcy and phoebe would have a neat dynamic, I've never seen them interact so, some of these scenes were legit my reaction, see: screaming

"Well, it looks like Ice King will be hanging around the Candy Kingdom now," Bonnie sighed. Marceline glanced at the dark entrance to the dungeon and shrugged.

"It's better than down there. At least up here, he can't get hurt," she decided. Bonnie looked at the hole as well and then back to Marceline.

"Marcy, I think you should let the boys handle this one," she stated seriously. Marceline shifted the umbrella in her grip and unfolded her legs to touch the ground.

"Why? I'll be fine."

"Well, asides from the fact that you have been returning up here frequently covered in wounds and the fact that Death is seemingly hunting you down, those aren't just any ancient ruins down there."

"How bad can it be?"

"Mushroom war. If my associations are correct from the information you've given me, then the same city you used to live in” Marceline stiffened. "Finn and Jake can deal with this, you just take a breather, okay?"

"No," Marceline shook her head. "I can take care of it. Just some old relics, nothing a woman like me can't face." Bonnie eyed her warily.

"If you're sure," she said slowly. "Please be careful."

"Send me down, Bonnibel."

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!" Marceline shrieked.

"Marcy are you okay?" Bonnie's crackly voice asked, her projection appearing from the holo-pendant. Marceline leaned against the stone wall, her breathing heavy staring at her punctured legs that were bleeding.

"Just fine," she said sarcastically. "Almost got staked by some rusty metal pipes. Bonnie, this is post-war technology. What did you do?"

"I have important research down there, I had to defend it at least a little bit."

"The thousands of lost souls weren't enough?"

“It’s to protect it from them,” Bonnie snapped. “If these criminals got their hands on it, the Candy Kingdom would be in danger.”

“Oh, yeah, if the political prisoners found evidence you were a corrupt leader then you’d be overthrown.”

“It’s a real threat!” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I wished my healing worked down here.”

“Bodily magic doesn’t work because some of those creatures down there have natural magical prowess.”

“Too bad that there are tons of magic weapons down here.” The spikes retreated and Marceline pushed herself up, floating slowly around with her axe prone and ready. “What about the plants?”

“They’ve mutated to become immune to the limitation,” Bonnie explained.

“Speaking of plants, there’s one now.”

Marceline felt the wind leave her body as she was knocked against the wall, the deer’s antlers puncturing her legs and it licked her.

“Gross! Back off!” She kicked the deer’s underbelly and pushed it off her, slamming her axe down on the deer’s neck. She shakily stood up and was grabbed, a muzzle rubbing against her neck. She hissed as she felt new instincts override her other ones. She pushed herself up and slid under the wolf, standing up to hit it with the neck of her bass causing it to recoil. She slashed across its chest and took a deep breath, stumbling towards the stairwell.

She watched as a green portal opened and Death stepped out, a brown satchel on his waist and he tipped his cap towards her.

“I see you,” he said and Marceline braced herself, taking in the area and how much space she had. She dashed to the left and hugged the wall, growling when she felt skeletal fingers wrap around her forearm. She was jerked backwards and she felt Death’s skull touch her cheek. She could practically feel the energy drained from her as she struggled before she finally got her arm out of his grasp.

She dived for the stairs and fell down them, at the bottom turning back to look. Death stood at the top and made finger guns towards her.

“Kiss of Death, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Marceline hissed.

“Bonnibel, how did you get lava down there,” Marceline asked as she watched the wounds heal. Bonnie handed her a vial of a purple liquid that she drank, whatever cursed her fading away.

“Various tunnels and educated usage of pressure and-”

“It was more rhetorical. But I did get burned. And stabbed. And shot. And kissed without my consent.”

“What? Who kissed you?” Bonnie exclaimed.

“Death. He was blocking the stairs so I tried to duke him but he caught me. I did manage to get down the stairs though.” Marceline tapped her cheek in the spot that Bonnie assumed she was kissed. “Good thing I’m already dead.”

“Death shouldn’t be hanging around in the dungeon,” Bonnie muttered. “It’s interfering with the mortal realm and not allowing the natural flow to keep order.”

“Well, you’re throwing people in a dungeon and barring magic. That messes with the natural flow,” Marceline pointed out.

“Shut up,” Bonnie snapped. “Have you found any signs of the hoomans?”

“None. I’m going to head back down though, I’ll find them.” Bonnie grabbed her wrist and locked eyes with her.

“Marceline, you’re getting close to a bad place. A place that you were nine-hundred ninety-nine years ago. I really think you should stay up here this time."

"Bonnibel, it will be fine. Send me down."

Marceline stared at the ruined food truck, a flood of emotions overwhelming her. She listened to the sea of growling and heard a soft humming mixed in. She picked up a rock and threw it at the truck, the old voice box still working. The red siren turned on, illuminating the maze in red light. Her breathing became unsteady and rapid when the oozers began to glow, and she spotted a hooman among them. The hooman saw her as well and started happily skipping towards her.

She took out her axe and started swinging at the oozers, their green insides spilling out onto the ground. When the hooman was close enough, she grabbed her wrist and bolted, bringing her to the fence and kicking open the gate. She looked over at Susan’s grateful face and to the entrance of the maze and sighed.

“I’m booked for this, aren’t I?”

“Marceline! Marceline are you okay?” Bonnie grabbed her arm and started looking over her body, circling her and checking over the exposed skin and where the clothes were ripped.

“Bonnie, I’m fine. I can’t believe they’re still down there.” Bonnie stopped and stepped back.

“I couldn’t get rid of them. If that green goop even touches you that’s it. I just thought if I buried them then that would be the end of it. How the hoomans even got down there I don’t know.”

“Probably something to do with that buff cat chick,” Marceline jabbed her thumb towards Susan.

“Maybe. I’ll ask her later. But Marcy, that one got really dicey. Everyone made it out safely, but you almost didn’t. That swarm could have easily overwhelmed you. Can you please let Finn and Jake take care of this? I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want them to get hurt,” Marceline mumbled. “I’m the best choice for this. I can teleport back to the surface, I know how to fight, I’ve been in all these places before. Plus I can literally eat the red bullets.”

“If you insist,” Bonnie sighed. She pulled her necklace and started fiddling with it. “What floor?”

“Marce, that one was close. This is the seventh time,” Bonnie scolded. Marceline shrugged and leaned on her.

“I’m exhausted,” she complained. “Magic Man hit me with some bullshit.”

“A strength-sapping spell,” Bonnie murmured. She pulled a herb out of her bag and placed it on top of Marceline’s head. “Stand still,” she instructed and counted under her breath before removing it. “You need to rest for at least three hours.”

“No,” she slurred, backing up and swaying on her feet. “I can keep going. I just…” She started falling forward and Bonnie caught her, sighing.

“Will you just go take a nap or something?” she asked. Marceline groaned.

“Don’t let anyone else go in there. I can deal with this myself,” she ordered and Bonnie pushed her back, keeping one hand on Marceline’s shoulder and crossing over her chest.

“Cross my heart,” Bonnie smiled. Marceline raised her umbrella in the air.

“I am going to the corner,” she announced and wandered off towards Choose Goose.

“Marceline, things are looking really dangerous. You keep having to retreat back up here,” Bonnie said softly. Marceline shrugged.

“Whatever, I’m still making it out,” she stated. Bonnie crossed her arms.

“You almost aren’t,” Bonnie scolded. “Do you want some help?”

“Bonnibel Bubblegum fighting in a dungeon? I don’t know.” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“No, a token per se. Something that’ll protect you.” Marceline shook her head aggressively.

“No. I don’t need any help. None! Send me down!”

“If you say so,” Bonnie sighed.

“Will you accept my offer now?” Bonnie asked, placing her hands on her hips. Marceline put a hand on her forehead and clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Yes. What do you have.”

“Pep-but! Grab the sweater!” Bonnie called. Peppermint Butler came running with a knitted pink sweater folded in his arms. “Thanks, Peps. Marcy, arms up.” She took the sweater from his arms and held it. Marceline used her free hand to motion towards herself.

“Umbrella.”

“You have telekinesis.”

“Oh, yeah.” She let the umbrella float above her slightly higher and she raised her arms. Bonnie slid it carefully over her head and adjusted her collar. Marceline scratched at it.

“This is tight, Bons,” Marceline complained. Bonnie smiled shyly.

“It’s made of the strongest magic out there,” she said quietly. Marceline quirked an eyebrow.

“O-kay. I thought you thought magic was a sham.” She tugged at the hem of it and frowned, her eyes narrowing at Bonnie. “Why can’t I take it off?”

“Well, you see, I had a feeling you might try to take it off, and for your own safety, I may have had it engineered so that you couldn’t take it off until you were in a sound state. Since you’re going back in, it recognizes that you are going to be in harm’s way.”

“I should have known there’d be a catch,” Marceline grumbled.

“It’s in your best interest,” Bonnie stated.

“That doesn’t make it right. Look, I’m just going back down. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

Marceline carefully pulled the pink sweater over her head and slid it over the umbrella handle.

“I’m not putting that back on,” she growled and sighed. “Everything is covered in your gum down there, you’ve been having fun without me? And since when did you have a giant pink cat thing and a huge gryphon eagle thing?”

“Goliad and Stormo? I’m glad they’re still balancing each other out.”

“I’m not getting an explanation? I should’ve expected that.”

“Also, I’m sorry but your corner is occupied now. I thought you could all use a break from the dungeon and while you may not enjoy the opportunity, the Nightosphere offered a challenge for anyone who felt so inclined. Maybe while everyone does that you can rest?”

“Why are you pushing me to slow down? I’m in my groove right now. You’re not my mom,” Marceline snapped.

“I’m not trying to be your mom! I care about you and I’m worried you’re pushing yourself too hard!”

“Well geez, it’s nice of you to care after all this time! I know my limits! I’ll show you! I’m going to the Nightosphere!”

“Marceline!”

“Don’t come after me,” she snapped and stalked off. Bonnie hugged herself and grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you going to calm down now?” Bonnie asked. Marceline kicked the dirt angrily.

“No. But I think I give up for now. That whole jam is ridiculous. There’s so much going on at once. I think the normal chaos is what I prefer right now. You know, I think it’d be cool if you came down too.” Bonnie shifted uncomfortably.

“Someone needs to stand guard here.” Marceline motioned towards the banana guards to either side.

“Found two,” she pointed out.

“It has to be me,” Bonnie insisted. She leaned over and whispered so only Marceline could hear. “You know how incompetent these guys can be.”

“Whatever you say P-Bubs.”

“So, how’d Flame Princess get locked down there, in the lab that belongs to you trapped in a machine you made.” Bonnie shrugged.

“No idea.”

“You can’t keep trying to ruin Finn’s relationship, girl. It’s an unhealthy obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a coincidence! It’s a coincidence that she got trapped in my machinery

“You aren’t confirming it or denying it.”

"I don't need to. I'm not that cruel a woman that I would trap a child for a science experiment."

"Actually-"

"Don't." Bonnie held a finger out to stop Marceline from continuing. "There's no reason for me to lock Flame Princess up, especially when she herself is the biggest threat to the Candy Kingdom. It isn't wise to poke the bear with a stick, you know what I mean?"

“Yeah, I guess. She really wants to join the travel party now, so she might still be gunning to destroy the kingdom.” Bonnie placed a nervous hand on her cheek and glanced warily towards Flame Princess, who appeared to be trying to explain something to Finn.

“Could you keep an eye on her?” Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Marceline snapped and sighed, “but yeah, I guess. I’d rather all of Ooo not be lit on fire. I’ll take her with me.” Bonnie smiled gratefully. “Anything I need?”

“I recommend a fire-resistance charm, in case you get caught in the crossfire.” Marceline nodded and dropped some gold in her hand. “I’ll use the charm, and that armour Finn hates too. Also, let Flame Princess use whatever token she wants, I don’t care.”

“Flame Princess! Marceline wants you to come with her!” Bubblegum shouted and the teen came running, small fires dotting her every step.

“That was exhilarating! So many things happening at once, so many creatures and questions! I knew that Bubblegum was no good!” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Hey, cut her some slack. She’s been at this for a long time,” Marceline growled. Flame Princess looked at her in confusion.

“You can’t honestly look at all this and tell me she’s not evil or at least bad. Look at all this stuff! Living beings forced to stay down here to the rest of their lives. Why? Is what they did really bad enough to deserve this?”

“Yes!” Marceline snapped. “And you don’t know Bonnie like I do.”

“Well, how do you know her so well?”

“I know her so well because-”

“You have done well to come this far,” A voice echoed, startling both girls. Marceline and Phoebe both looked to the speaker.

“Bonnie? What are you doing all the way down here?” Marceline asked.

“Something evil I bet,” Phoebe spat and Marceline whacked the back of her head, ignoring the burning sensation. Bonnibel frowned.

“This is my dungeon,” she said plainly. “And this room is the bottom of it. So, great job! You can go home now, back to the surface or whatever.”

“I don’t think so. There’s probably something in here that you’re hiding,” Phoebe hissed. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“This doesn’t make sense. What’s down here, Peebs?” Bonnie chuckled nervously.

“Nothing! This is the bottom. That’s it. But just to be safe,” she glared discreetly at Phoebe “I need you to promise me you will not touch my desk back there. It has important research on it that you could mess up. This could be your final quest in this adventure, just promise me. Royal promise. No touchies.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Marceline insisted. Bonnie shook her head.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine! Whatever!” Marceline threw up her arms in defeat. Bonnie smiled. It wasn’t one of her normal smiles, not one of the ones Marceline was used to. It was empty and cold. Her eyes were unreadable.

“I think we’re done here then. Thank you for solving the mystery.” Marceline looked her up and down and walked past her, looking down at the table. Phoebe walked up beside her and glanced at Marceline.

“These papers are unreadable,” she whispered. Marceline absentmindedly picked up one of the papers, seeing the words were faded and the pictures were half-erased. Then the wall in front of them opened, showing a dark pink gum tunnel.

“Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you! Where does this even go?” Marceline shouted. She spun around to face Bonnibel and scowled at the expression on her face. An expression she hadn’t seen in centuries, since they had broken up. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a slight frown. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her and she straightened her back to look at them like she was above them.

You’ll never know where it goes,” she said slowly, “you broke a royal promise. And you know what that means. I’m sorry girls, it’s business.” Marceline saw out of the corner of her eye a fireball that Phoebe had thrown before they both teleported above the kingdom, standing on a cotton candy cloud and looking up at the Gumball Guardians.

“I told you,” Phoebe shouted. Marceline growled and readied her axe.

“Well, at least I’ll get a metal song out of this,” Marceline mumbled. Phoebe scoffed.

“You’re thinking about music? I’m thinking about revolution!” Her hands lit up and she prepared to attack before Bonnibel ran out in front of them.

“Wait! You don’t understand! I know this thing looks like a monster, but you have to listen to me! It doesn’t want to hurt you! It just-” A gum tentacle swung out and grabbed her, causing both Marceline and Phoebe to jump back.

“Bonnie! You’re not getting out of this that easily!” She lunged forward only to get hit in the face with a metal ball, knocking her back. Phoebe dragged her to her feet.

“Think smart!” She barked.

Marceline was angry at Bubblegum, but seeing everyone else rail on her for something she herself had done as well, made her get a bit protective. She’d deal with the lying later.

“Wouldn’t you lie to protect your weird old parents too?” Marceline snapped. She floated down and wrapped her arms around Bonnie’s shoulders, glaring at the entire crew. She glanced at Bonnie for a split second and saw her small smile and she flashed one back. She was still holding her when the mass of gum began to separate.

“Thanks for helping me out, I do wish you could’ve done it without killing my parents though,” Bonnie said. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“They aren’t dead. We can go catch them if you want.”

“No, no. They’ll come back if they want,” Bonnie sighed. “Marceline, come inside. I want to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, sure.” Marceline followed her up the candy steps and through the winding halls, ending in Bonnie’s room. She motioned towards the bed.

“Sit down,” she ordered and Marceline obliged, sitting down with her arms crossed. “I want to apologise to you.”

“For what? For sending me on a wild goose chase? For trying to get your gumball guardians to murder me? For lying to me and tricking me? For literally putting all of us in mortal danger? Which one is it?” Marceline snarled. Bonnie winced.

“All of that, listen, Marceline, I didn’t want to do all that! But responsibility demands sacrifice and the cost kept escalating. I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand before it was already there. I was running out of ways to stop you.”

“Maybe the best way to have stopped me would have been to tell the truth? Did you ever consider that?” Marceline snapped. “Everyone could have died, get that through your thick skull! All of us could have died!” She stood up and sat back down, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking deep breaths. “I don’t even know how long it’s been, all I know is you haven’t changed a bit. You put your own pride over the actual lives of other people.”

“Marceline-”

“No, Bonnie, listen. It’s been like this for centuries. It’s exhausting. I had thought you were different now. I really did. But I guess old habits die hard.”

“I’m trying to change. I really am Marcy. I just- I was scared. You know what it’s like to have to face the potential of losing your parents. You know what it’s like to lose them. I don’t. I just had to come head-to-head with it today. It’s not okay that I did all that, but I panicked,” Bonnie rambled. Marceline stood up and shook her head.

“I’m going home. I have a killer headache and I’m tired. I got up to come help and I did, so my job’s done.” She rubbed her temple and walked to the door, reaching for the handle only for her hand to be grabbed.

“I’m sorry. I want you to know that. I really am sorry.” She hesitated. She looked to Bonnie and inhaled sharply. She did look remorseful, but sometimes remorse was not enough.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” she mumbled. Bonnie looked away.

“I understand.” She quickly hugged Marceline and backed away, walking to filter through her closet. “It’s okay if you never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’ve forgiven you for worse,” Marceline stated. “But this one will take me a bit. I’ll text you eventually.” She strolled out and narrowly avoided Peppermint Butler who was coming into the room, getting called some harsh words as she opened her umbrella to make her way home.

#chara writes #at bubblegum #at marceline #bubbline #adventure time

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - How a Star is Born ch.I

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.II

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Stanford smiled down at the crib and wiggled his six fingers at the babies snuggled in togas and a blanket made of silk. The girl, Mabel, giggled, her laughter like soft bells, while the boy, Mason, stared with eyes sparkling with admiration. Stanford’s chuckle was low and warm, full of love, and he had mastered the art of scooping both babies into his arms swiftly at the same time, cradling each twin in a strong, soft arm, so neither would feel left out or abandoned.

The small amount of pain in the god’s heart was overshadowed by joy and love for his grandniece and nephew. They were the only family he had now, due to circumstances mostly out of his control, a feeling gods rarely felt and were uncomfortable with. So rather than dwell on this, Stanford chose to channel his thoughts onto his children as he looked forward to raising them as his own.

The open ballroom was filled to the brim with gods and goddesses who had come to welcome the babies, currently dancing and singing along with the muses who provided music. Mabel bounced in Stanford’s hold, eager to dance and sing and play, while Mason held onto Stanford’s toga a little tighter. The god of Intelligence and Ingenuity smiled and gave his grandnephew a small squeeze of reassurance that he was right there for him.

One god ran through the crowd, bumping into people accidentally with his glasses skewed, but he soon emerged, panting and slouched forward before brightening up like a sunflower in the light. Fiddleford, the god of Inspiration, Motivation, and the Messenger of the gods (and god of creative swears, but no one talks about that), fixed his small glasses and greeted his partner with a warm grin. Something seemed a little different about Stanford, but Fiddleford ignored it to focus on more important matters.

“Fiddleford! You made it!” Stanford gently laid the twins down and hugged him, a bit uncharacteristic for him, but Fiddleford was happy nonetheless.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” He replied with a pat on Stanford’s back and they both looked down at the babies, who were observing the stranger, one with delight and one with slight confusion. “How beautiful.” He awed and waved at the new gods. “What’re their names?”

“Mason and Mabel.”

“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Oh, what’s that on Mason’s forehead?” Fiddleford asked and reached a hand to gently wipe the baby’s forehead, thinking it was a thread or something, but Stanford gently grabbed his wrist and said firmly,

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

Fiddleford swallowed, his eyes glancing down at the six fingers that stopped him, and he nodded in understanding. Clearly Stanford didn’t want unimportant differences to be accidentally weaponized against his nephew, or his niece for that matter.

“Oh! Almost forgot.” Fiddleford reached into his endless satchel and pulled out a large bouquet of flowers and herbs. “For ya, my friend. Welcome t’the Dad Club!”

Stanford’s cheeks and ears turned pinkish as he accepted the bouquet. “Thank you, but I’m not a father…”

“Aw, hush, you’re as good as!” Fiddleford swatted his friend’s statement away. “And I brought my gifts for the wittle ones, too.” The skinny god reached into his satchel again and this time pulled out two metals with a lightning bolt hanging over a mountain, a field, and the sea. On the back, one read “Mabel” and one read “Mason” with a snap of Fiddleford’s fingers, having a bit of skill with metal. “There we are.”

“Thank you, buddy, they’re perfect.” Stanford watched as Fiddleford draped them around each baby’s neck. He was a bit worried of the necklaces choking the babies, but he swallowed his worry. They were gods, for crying out loud. What could ever happen to them?

Mabel instantly grabbed her metal and began to gnaw on it. Mason saw this and gave it a try, and then got excited and teethed far more vigorously. Stanford laughed and gently prided the gifts out of their gums, tickling their ribs and smiling as the babies cooed and laughed and grabbed his twelve fingers lovingly.

Fiddleford smiled and finally pinpointed what was so different about his old friend; he was the happiest Fiddleford had seen him in a long, long time.

“So, what gift will ya give ‘em, Fordsie?” Fiddleford asked casually.

Stanford prided his hands away from the babies as he smiled at them. “I have just the thing for them. They’re already so characteristic and different.” Stanford clapped his hands together and in a small cloud of lightning, a music box teleported into his palm, a gift he had crafted carefully well into the night. “For Mabel, something to soothe her far better than my lousy voice.”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes, an argument against the harsh statement on his lips, but he bit it back as he watched Stanford open the little chest and wind it, a tiny sailboat on a wave out at sea, rocking to the soft lullaby. Mabel and Mason’s soft brown eyes grew wide with admiration and Mabel reached up her chubby arms for the gift, giggling at the music. Stanford chuckled and placed it by the crib so the twins could watch the ship sail. While it may have been for Mabel, he was glad both of his children could enjoy it.

“And for Mason,” Stanford clapped his hands again, another cloud of lightning appeared between his hands as he pulled them apart, and a blue book decorated with a golden forest laid in his palm, thick but empty and ready to be filled with knowledge. “I’m afraid this one will have to wait until he is a little older, but it will help him to have somewhere to put his many thoughts.”

Mason’s eyes sparkled like stars and he clenched his tiny hands for it. Stanford laughed and played along, giving it to the baby to see what he would do, and the men were amused when Mason snuggled with it like it was a stuffed toy and Mabel ran her little fingers over the golden forest, finding it pretty and appealing to the eye.

The music box was still playing, slowly making the twins tired. With a sleeping Mason on top of the journal and Mabel snuggling with her brother, Stanford tucked their blanket in to keep them warm and comforted, and even kissed each baby on the cheek to wish them a peaceful slumber. And no, Fiddleford was not crying behind his friend.

“How sentimental.” A voice said from the opposite side of the vast room, and yet everyone heard it and fell silent and looked at the direction the chilly tone came from.

The gods came in many different shapes and sizes, but this god was the farthest from a human-like appearance than any other, a golden triangle with a black toga over his shoulder, the strange god floating so though he was the size of most heads, he was eye-level. That eye, that single eye, was cold and yellow with a slitted pupil, like a cat. And yet, Stanford grinned at the sight of him.

Bill, Master of the Mind and Ruler of the Underworld, as appointed by Stanford long ago, was not oblivious to the cold greeting and asked, “Yeesh, this an audience or a mosaic?”

“Bill, my friend, you finally made it.” Stanford greeted warmly as the triangle floated to him and managed to put on an eye that wrinkled in a half-convincing smile. “How is the Underworld?”

“Eh, you know, a little dark, a little gloomy,” Bill answered, tilting his hand back and forth in a so-and-so way. “And as always, full of dead people, whatcha gonna do? Ah, those the little knuckleheads? How cute.” Bill swiftly past Fiddleford, who seemed to have been standing in front of the crib, and the triangle floated over the sleeping babies, creating a change in lighting with a dark shadow over them.

Mabel and Mason stirred and Stanford smiled at his close friend and newest (and only) family members meeting. Both of the babies stared at Bill with wide eyes and blank expressions. Fiddleford read their expressions as fearful; Stanford read their expressions as surprised.

“Hm, they’re strong, like their great-uncle.” Bill observed, his eye peering at them deeply. “Powerful little tykes.”

“You really think so?” Stanford said optimistically as he stood by his friend’s side, smiling down at the babies.

“Oh, you bet. Heck, these guys one day could take on the greatest monsters the world as ever known.” Bill said, a master at hiding his bitterness at the back of his throat.

“Now, why don’t you grab some wine? Best there is! Join the celebration, live a little.” Stanford offered, gently elbowing the triangle, who drifted a few inches away as he chuckled coldly.

“Love to, babe, but unlike you other gods lounging around up here, I regretfully have a full time gig I gotta attend to. Can’t. Love to, but can’t.” Bill sneered and turned to leave.

“Good riddance.” Fiddleford mumbled under his breath, back in front of the crib with his feet firmly on the clouds, determined not to leave the twins’ side again.

“Really, Bill, you should slow down,” Stanford advised friendly. “You’ll work yourself to death.” The god paused as Fiddleford laughed behind him, then snorted and chuckled as he realized his unintentional joke. The whole room burst into laughter, grateful for something to lighten the tension on the mountain top, and Bill slipped away.

Fiddleford stood next to his friend and patted his shoulder. “Really, Stanford, I don’t trust that guy any farther than I can throw him.”

“Fiddleford, he’s my friend.” Stanford gently reminded him. “If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I owe him all I have, and besides, I know how it feels to be looked down upon and judged.” The god held his right hand with his left, re-counting his fingers. Six. It was always six and always would be six.

The partners were distracted from their conversation at hearing Mabel laughing. They turned to find Mason hiding behind his journal and poking out from behind, playing peek-a-boo, and Mabel squealing with laughter and wiggling her arms with joy. Stanford and Fiddleford smiled and resumed their positions by the new gods’ side.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Underworld was better than the Nightmare Realm in some ways, but worse in others. Bill’s powers were limited in the Underworld. It was cold and icy, rather than hot and fiery, like it was in the Nightmare Realm. Bill had way fewer allies here than in the Nightmare Realm, but he had more souls to vex his frustrations out on in the Underworld, and hey this place wasn’t crippling and bound to fall apart any minute, that was nice.

But what got under Bill’s bricks was the fact that he was so close. He almost had this dimension in his grasp, but he needed the help of his army to take control. If he were to strike now he would lose. He had a plan, he knew what to do, but with those two pains in the picture Bill needed to make sure they wouldn’t be in his way.

In a burst of blue fire, Bill appeared just outside of his pyramid-shaped castle and bellowed, “GIDEON!”

A chubby child with white hair up in a bun my dead twigs and a cold, icy baby-blue toga appeared smugly with a platter of worms and cockroaches. “Which will it be, my Lord…”

“Worms later, kid, just let me know the second Time Baby’s ready to talk.”

“Oh, he’s coming in… twelve seconds.”

“Thanks, go clip some Threads of Life for a few minutes.” Bill instructed as he floated inside the castle and to his high throne. A crystal orb was glowing and buzzing, and when Bill was sitting comfortably, leaning on his knuckles, the orb grew and displayed a picture of the one god Bill hated more than Sixer. “Time Baby.”

“Cipher,” The baby said in a deep, low voice. “What do you wish of me?”

“I wanna cash in that favor.” Bill stated plainly. “I have all the knowledge of the present and the past, but not the future, but you do.”

“We know that, and we know I owe you a favor, no need to narrate.” Time Baby growled. “Just tell me what you want to know so I can be on my way.”

“Sixer’s got two little brats hanging on his toga. Are they gonna get in my way or what?”

Time Baby sighed, tired and bored, and gave Bill the answer he wanted. “Eighteen years from your present date, the planets will align. When this happens, a weak spot in the dimension will form, just weak enough for you to be able to break a hole and have your allies join you. When this happens, you will finally dethrone Stanford and be free to rule.”

“YES!”

“But… if both of the twins should fight, you will lose.” And Time Baby was gone with a small pop.

Bill was still as a statue for a minute or two, until he burst into red flames with a glowing red eye and screamed, “WHAAAAAAT?!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Gideon and Bill stood side by side at the entrance to the deepest, darkest chamber in the underworld. They both smiled darkly with eyes that gleamed with sickening joy.

“Gideon?”

“Bill,”

“Got a riddle for you.” Bill led the way in through the piles of bones, to a ghostly waterfall that had it’s priceless treasure suspended from the ground. “How do you kill a god?”

Gideon’s grin widened and twisted excitedly as Bill grabbed the tiny bottle of poison. “You make ‘em mortal.”

“You got it, Short Stack.” Bill handed him the bottle and said, “Give Sixer some time. He’s so worried about losing them they sleep in his room. The dweeb will convince them to be moved to their own room. That’s when you strike. I don’t care if you do it in Olympus or not, just give the kids the potion and kill them and don’t get caught.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bill was right; Stanford had their crib be by his bed their first month. Mostly to make sure they were taken care of, but if he was being honest it was to make sure they were safe.

Stanford was the happiest he had been in so long. Throwing lightning bolts to explode for the laughing babies, singing songs while Fiddleford played his harp, tickling their round baby bellies and reading them stories for bed and watching the young gods grow smarter and stronger. Stanford was pleasantly surprised how well he was at taking care of the children, first worried he was not equipped for the task, but Fiddleford, who had a human son on Earth, was a good friend and was always there to help.

One night the great-uncle took his time tucking the twins into the crib, making sure Mason had his journal, which he never slept without, and that Mabel’s music box would last a few minutes. “Ford, they’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“They’re still so young.” Stanford muttered. “Maybe they should stay in my room a few more nights.”

“Now, don’t ya worry yourself into a lightnin’ storm, they’ll have each other. They’ll be okay.” Fiddleford patted his back and walked the worried god out of the nursery, leaving the babies happily sleeping as they snuggled close.

Fiddleford later went on to deliver his messages and Stanford laid in his large bed to try to rest, a difficult task with his room feeling much bigger now and more intimidating, but he managed to fall asleep with his arms wrapped around his cloud-pillow.

In the dead of night, long after the music box fell silent, Mabel drooled in her sleep while Mason sucked on his toga. A dark shadow loomed over them, stirring them, and Mabel gasped and her breath was caught in her throat.

Stanford blinked drowsily as he heard a tumble, a crash, and what sounded like Mabel crying. No, not crying, screaming. The great-uncle immediately jumped out of bed and ran for his niece and nephew’s nursery, yelling, “I’M COMING!”

He threw the curtain out of his way and hurried to the crib that had been thrown over and lying on the front, Mabel still screaming and crying her little heart out. Stanford threw himself to his knees before the mess and dug around the sheets and blanket for his children, heart pounding and hands quivering. “Mason! Mabel! I’m here, I’m here!”

Stanford pulled back a sheet to reveal Mabel, lying on her stomach and wailing with hot tears streaming down her face. The god scooped her up and held her close to his warm chest as he scanned her for injuries. A little bruise was forming on her chest, but she would be okay. Stanford quickly turned his attention to the silent child, terrified something was wrong. “Mason! Mason!”

Stanford turned the whole crib upside down with one arm, scrambling for his nephew. He had to be here somewhere, they were fine, the bed only toppled over, right? Right?! But the baby was nowhere to be seen.

Mabel continued to cry, her heart sounding broken, and Stanford ignored the single tear escaping his right eye to try to find his missing boy. “Mason! Mason! MASON!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Lightning attacked the sky angrily. A raven with a baby dangling from it’s talons flew down from the heavens onto a rocky valley, ignoring the wails from the one-month-old. It dropped the baby lazily before transforming into Gideon’s true form.

“Shut up already!” He growled, pulled out the bottle from his toga, and popped it in Mason’s mouth. The baby quickly drank the sweet potion, his heavenly glow fading as he did so. Gideon grinned and hissed, “C’mon, c’mon! Every last drop, kid.”

“Who’s there?”

Gideon jumped, turned into a snake, and slithered behind the rocks to hide, leaving Mason alone to cry and the bottle to shatter, spilling a drop into the dirt.

A hefty man with a buck tooth and worker’s clothes turned a corner with a lantern in his hand. “Over here, Melody!”

A woman with dirty blonde curls joined him, gasped, and slowly knelt beside the baby and tenderly scooped him up. “Oh, you poor thing.” She cooed. “I know, I know. It’s alright.”

“Hello! Dudes? Any dudes out there?” The big guy called out.

“Soos, I think he’s been abandoned.” Melody said sadly as the baby began to calm down.

“Poor dude.” Soos said as he petted the baby’s head and smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you, lil’dawg. Hey, look, a necklace.” Soos flipped it over after seeing the symbol of the gods and read off the name. “Mason. Huh. His name’s Mason.”

“What a sweet boy.” Melody complimented as Mason grabbed her finger and observed her with eyes filled with wonder. “Why would anyone leave him here?”

“I dunno, sweetie. Whoa, what’s that on his forehead?” Soos shined the lantern to his forehead to make sure it wasn’t ants or a rash, but no. It was just a birthmark. “Oh. Phew. Just some angel kisses. That’s what Abuelita calls them. Hey, looks kinda like a dipper, y’know?”

“It does.” Melody giggled. “Well, let’s take Dipper here home.”

Gideon hissed angrily as the couple walked off with the baby. Oh, well. He got rid of one twin, that was good enough, right? And besides, what chance did a stupid mortal have against the Demon of the Nightmare Realm?

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #gift #hercules #i couldn't help myself #shut up #low key i'm super pumped for this!!!#prepare yourselves for angst! and lots of it!

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jayofmemory · 4 years

Text

Orange Sillohette

Hey yall!! It’s been a log time since I’ve uploaded anything, and while I wish I had ideas for Branded, yall’re just gonna have to have this one shot for now lol. Enjoy~

Chase was shocked awake by the sound of something hitting the ground hard. He stumbled to his feet and put a hand against the wall while he steadied his breathing and blinked the dots away. Everything felt like it was spinning. Where was he? He blinked again, leaning against the cool wall and tried to look around, but all he could make out were the muted, bright colors and lights of a city at night. He could faintly hear the voices around him, they seemed panicked, but the ringing in his ears was too overwhelming to focus on anything.

He tried to make his way to a quieter part of town, not noticing that no one was paying any attention to him. If they were, they would probably think he was drunk with his glazed over eyes, half leaning against the wall as he walked. He had been drinking a little, but not so much to make him feel like this... right? He shook his head, trying to remember how he got into the city.

“I... drove here... and-and went up to the roof... to... d-d-drink.” He mumbled quietly as he walked. Soon he was in a park in the middle of the city, finding a bench and laying down on it.

“I drove past here...” He could see the world going dark as a faint siren sounded in the distance. “I...”

-- -- --

Marvin walked through the city, the first few rays of sunlight bouncing off his hair as it flapped behind him in a loose ponytail. His searching eyes scanned the area, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. He had seen what happened, but he wanted to know how, and more importantly, why. Why had he done it? Why did he leave so late at night?

A few people gave him a funny look as he quickly walked past, but thankfully none of them stopped him. Just as the shops around him began to open and people started arriving, he came to the park. He sat down on a nearby bench and turned on his phone, scrolling through the texts from his brothers from the night before. He sighed, pressed his fingers to his temples, and took a deep breath. He was still too tense to really think properly.

“-vin?”

Marvin opened his eyes and looked around, but didn’t see anyone.

“Maybe I’m just hearing things...” He muttered. Just then he noticed that one of the crystals on his necklace was glowing faintly. He held it up and gazed at it.

“Huh, that’s weird.” He blew on it and for a moment the light grew brighter.

“Can y- m-“

“Again?” He whispered. “Who’s there?” He commanded.

The crystal glowed bright again, a little more steady this time, and for a moment, Marvin saw a flicker of a form right in front of him.

“Marvin?” And just like that, the form was gone.

“What do you want, spirit?” Marvin tried to keep his voice steady. It had been many years since this crystal had lit up, the one for souls. There was silence, except for the shuffle of leaves in the wind. Did the spirit leave? Marvin looked at the crystal one last time before standing up and looking around quickly to make sure no one was near before making a portal. As he slipped through the portal to his apartment, he felt a sudden weight around his neck and stumbled forward.

The portal closed instantly behind him and the weight was gone. He shuffled in place for a little bit before he got an idea. He headed to his bedroom and pulled out a box from underneath his bed. He found the crystal he was looking for immediately. It was a much larger version of the crystal that had been glowing earlier.

He sat it on the ground and inspected it. There was a small dot of light that flashed for a second, on the side opposite from him.

“So you followed me home. Hey, you want to talk, right? Follow my lead.” Marvin placed a hand on the large crystal and after a second another hand print appeared, glowing, on the other side.

“You may talk.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard a whisper. “... Marvin... am I dead?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t know who you are, but you seem to know my name. This stone lets me talk with the dead so I can hopefully put you to rest.”

“I don’t...” The whisper paused. “I-I can’t be dead... I- Marvin please, can’t you do something?”

“I’m sorry, my necromancy is pretty weak.” He paused. “Stay here please.” He released the crystal and stood up, making his way over to one of the book shelves. After selecting a dusty book from the top shelf, he made his way back in time to hear “why can’t I remember?”

“Remember what?”

“How I... died.”

Marvin sat down and opened the book to a certain section. “Hmm... you must be recently deceased then. I remember my teacher saying that the recently departed have trouble remembering how it all happened. Let’s see... here! I found a spell that might speed up the process for you to remember. I just need your full name and the last thing you remember from being alive.”

“Can’t you recognize my voice?”

“No? You’re coming through as a whisper.”

“Marvin... it’s me. Chase.”

Marvin froze, wide eyed. He looked at where he thought the spirit’s eye level would be in shock. “No... Y-you’re joking.”

“Marvin, I’m serious.” The crystal glowed a little brighter. Marvin could feel tears coming to his eyes but he quickly wiped them away.

“Y-you jumped...”

“What?”

“They found you on the ground out front of a 5 foot building downtown. You- the only way you could have been that badly injured is if you jumped.”

“No, I wouldn’t have!” The handprint glowed brighter.

“H-hold on...” Marvin flipped a few pages in the book and pressed his hand against the crystal again, closing his eyes and beginning to repeat a spell. He opened one eye and looked up. There, in front of him, was the glowing orange translucent form of his brother.

“You’re really-“ He reached out and was relieved when he could touch Chase’s arm.

Chase jumped at the sudden touch and looked Marvin in the eye. Marvin couldn’t hold his emotions back any longer and reached over the crystal to hug his brother, burying his face in his shoulder.

“It’s actually you!” Marvin gasped. Chase went to hug him back and realized he was shaking.

“Of course it’s me...”

After a moment longer, Marvin released him and sat back down, instead placing Chase’s hands in his, as if he was making sure he wouldn’t vanish again.

“Um... what all happened last night?” Chase asked, relieved at the touch.

Marvin drew in a sharp breath before he began. “1:34 am. I received a text from Jameson saying you were in the hospital with serious injuries. In a few minutes he texted back that you were dead. I teleported over and they said you.. had jumped off of a building downtown. The impact had practically killed you instantly, but even still, Henrik tried to save you.” He paused and drew in another shaky breath. “Why...”

“Why did I jump.” Chase finished his question. “I... don’t know. I don’t remember anything after I drove downtown. There was... whiskey next to me.”

“Chase-“

“I know I know, I promised I would quit. I just... it was our anniversary. The day I left... the day Stacy stopped letting me see our kids.”

“It was... wait you said the last thing you remember was driving downtown? We can still try the memory spell if you want.”

Chase paused before nodding, a determined look on his face. There was a sound of turning pages and muttering from somewhere outside the room, but he didn’t have time to question it before a searing pain hit him. He cried out in pain and keeled over, putting his hands over his ears. There was a soft touch on his hands again and the pain ebbed away. He sat back up, dazed and noticed Marvin was holding his hands again.

“Gah... is it supposed to hurt that ba-“ Chase froze as the memories flooded back into his head. He wobbled in place and shook his head, his mind finally clear. His eyes widened and he looked up at Marvin, who had worry and curiosity in his expression.

“Chase?”

“I didn’t jump. I was pushed.”

Marvin’s eyes widened before they narrowed in fury. “Who.”

“I can’t... see them...” Chase closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. “I’m sitting on the roof, looking at the stars. I’m holding the bottle, it's maybe a fourth empty. My cheeks feel wet. I stand up and walk to the edge before sitting down again. There is a noise behind me. I turn around and I feel hands on my back, pushing me. Red hoodie... black gloves and... the green eye...”

“Green eye?!” Marvin interrupted.

“Green. Marvin, it was Jackie. No, it was his body.”

“Anti?!” Marvin shot up. “Crap, of course he was behind this! I need to-“

Chase stood up, watching as Marvin made a portal. He turned quickly back to Chase and removed a bracelet from his wrist and slipped it onto Chase’s.

“This should let you be able to talk to the others outside my body.”

“Wh-?”

“Oh yeah I had you possess me so I could see you, sorry for not asking. Come on.”

Before Chase could blink they were in Henrik’s office. He and Jamie were sitting on the bench, asleep on each other’s shoulders, eyes red from crying. Marvin snapped loudly, awaking the two of them instantly.

“Sorry to awake your slumber, but do either of you know where Jackie is?”

Henrik grunted and slipped over to his desk. “He’s at... that building. Where Chase ju-“

“He didn’t jump.” “I didn’t jump.” Chase and Marvin said together. Henrik and Jamie looked at Marvin in shock and confusion.

“Sorry, no time to explain.” Marvin began making another portal. “I’ll get him and come back for you three.”

“Three?!” Henrik exclaimed as he slipped through and disappeared with a pop. Henrik and Jameson stared at each other in silence, now wide awake.

“Well... would you like me to explain all this now or after he comes back?” Chase broke the silence, startling the other two.

“Wha- who-?” Henrik stammered.

Chase stifled a giggle. He knew Henrik didn’t really believe in too much of the supernatural stuff that Marvin loved so much.

“Chase!?!” Jamie signed, hands slightly shaking.

“Yeah um... sorry to scare you two but you can’t really see me right now cause uh.. I’m kinda... dead? But it looks like you can hear me so that’s good! Marvin’s spells worked!”

Henrik stared at the direction the voice was coming from, contemplating everything he knew.

Before either of them could answer the portal opened back up and Jackie flew through it backwards.

“GRAB HIM!” Marvin yelled as he came flying in after.

Henrik grabbed the hero before he hit the wall.

“Hold him there, I need to get it out of him.”

Suddenly Jackie jerked in Henrik’s arms and a distorted laugh echoed through the room.

“W̧h͟a̴̛t͠,̵ ̷y͠o҉̧ù ̨c̨̡a̴̶n̶͞’͟͟ţ͟ ͝f̸i͟͝g̀́h͡t̶ ҉͠m̢̛é ̕o̡͜n̡͞ ͘ý̕o̕u͡ŗ̛ ͟o͢w͢n̢͜,͠ ̸͜m̡a͟g̡i̵͝c̢̛i͟͏a̸n͏?̧͟” Jamie and Henrik paled instantly, being all too familiar with that voice. Jackie’s left eye flashed green as the whites of his eyes went black.

Marvin’s eyes glowed an icy blue and a sudden gust of wind whipped around the room. He pressed his hand against Jackie’s face and said a spell in a language that none of them could understand.

Jackie’s body spasmed in Henrik’s grasp, glitching harshly. Marvin pulled his hand back but continued chanting as black smog erupted from Jackie’s eyes and mouth, glitching and fizzing as it shot towards the ceiling. Suddenly everything was quiet and both Jackie and Marvin went limp. Jamie caught Marvin and Henrik held Jackie up still, then Jackie started coughing and breathing in heavily. Henrik released him and Jackie fell to his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. Marvin blinked and looked up before pushing himself gently out of Jamie’s grasp and moving closer to Jackie. He lifted his head up and looked him in the eyes before smiling.

“You’re back.”

“Y-yeah-“ Jackie attempted to respond but ended up coughing a bit. “How did you know he was in me? He was... doing a pretty good job of pretending to be me for a week or two.”

“Are you alright?” Chase asked before Marcin could answer.

Marvin nodded and Jackie’s head shot up, looking around wildly. “Chase?!”

“Sorry, you can’t see me.”

“Yet.” Marvin grinned, all eyes moving to him. “That exorcism took a lot out of me but I think I have enough energy for one more magic trick. Henrik? Where’s the body?”

Henrik, who was standing against the wall trying to comprehend everything, suddenly stood at attention. “This way.”

He led them all down a few halls, slow enough that Jackie and Marvin could keep up, until they reached the morgue. “But Marvin- his vital organs are long dead. How can you-“

“Shush. Lemme work.” Marvin smiled confidently. He approached Chase’s body bag. “Chase, do I have your permission to try a little experiment? This is my first time trying to bring anyone back from the dead.”

“Of course you dummy.” Chase responded from the other side of the table.

“Follow my lead.” He commanded again, closing his eyes and resting his hands lightly on the bag. He started saying an unfamiliar spell, with a hint of melody to it. The other three brothers watched in wonder as an orange light flooded the room for a moment, surrounding Marvin’s silhouette. The light faded as Marvin finished and his arms fell to his sides.

“Oh dear-“ he managed to say before he collapsed again, falling unconscious. Even though he was still recovering, Jackie’s quick reflexes kicked in and he caught Marvin.

There was a cough from the body bag on the table and a muffled voice came from within. “Yo can someone open the bag? It smells bad in here.”

Henrik rushed over and unzipped the body bag and Chase sat up and stretched. Henrik watched in wonder as the previously blue with death body was suddenly pink with life again. Chase looked down before looking at Henrik.

“Uh... got an extra gown around?”

Jamie let out a silent giggle and Henrik tossed a hospital gown at Chase, who quickly put it on. He flexed his fingers, a smile spreading across his face, happy to be completely solid again.

“Ok someone want to tell me what the F*** happened?!?” Henrik finally released the confusion that was building up in him.

Chase looked up at him then down where Jackie sat with the unconscious Marvin. “Yeah, I’ll explain everything. Although it’d probably be a better idea to talk in your office.”

#jacksepticeye #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #writersofjack

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birbleafs · 4 years

Text

[fic] It’s A Matter Of (In)Convenience

Series: Saiki Kusuo no Ψ-nan || The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Rating: T Genre: Humour, Breaking The Fourth Wall Character(s): Saiki Kusuo, Aiura Mikoto, Toritsuka Reita, Kaidou Shun, Kuboyasu Aren, Nendou Riki, Yumehara Chiyo, Teruhashi Kokomi Warnings: None, save for canon-typical shenanigans Summary: Saiki Kusuo’s plan for a quiet Sunday spent shopping for desserts in an ordinary konbini is thrown into disarray when he runs into several… inconveniences, much to his dismay. A/N: I've been re-reading/re-watching Saiki K. during this quarantine period and I haven't laughed this hard since I was into Gintama. This series has given me so much ridiculous joy, it’s great for helping keep anxiety and existential despair at bay lol. Fic can also be read on AO3

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Saiki Kusuo could not say he dislikes commuting by public train but he’s not particularly a fan of it either. After all, it’s exceedingly more troublesome and vexing for someone like him, encumbered with psychic abilities beyond human comprehension. He’s unable to switch off his telepathy at will, so it’s no small feat being stuck in a packed cabin and trying to filter out the cacophonous thoughts of fifty-odd passengers buzzing incessantly in his mind throughout the long ride to the next town. Distance isn’t an issue today, however. Not that it had ever been an issue, mind you—he could teleport to almost any location he so wished. But Kusuo had long since mastered inconspicuousness into an art form, and teleporting to his destination and appearing seemingly out of thin air in the middle of a packed convenience store was sure to draw unwanted attention to himself. No, it’s not worth the risk, even for such a coveted goal at the end of his journey. Besides, Kusuo is a man of principle, one who does not easily succumb to using his powers for self-interest. He will do this the ordinary, pedestrian way.

In any case, travelling out of Hidariwakibara-chō to neighbouring Tonari Machi on a random Sunday morning would also mean the chances of him running into certain... inconveniences are very nearly zero. Forty-five minutes and twelve stops later, Kusuo beams in quiet triumph as he walks past the automatic sliding doors and into the aforementioned convenience store, barely registering the musical jiggle over the speakers. He steps through the sparse crowd, pausing midway through the snack and desserts aisle when he finally catches sight of the neat row of orange boxes with silver trimmings on the top shelf. Kusuo allows himself a tiny grin as he reaches for a box, eyes bright with anticipation as he gazes upon its wondrous contents—three cups of chocolate brownie and cherry parfait, infused with coffee jelly and topped with dollops of luscious cream and cinnamon sprinkles. A simple but unmatched delicacy right here in this nondescript konbini, he thinks, savouring the glorious moment a little longer. Still, as fate would have it, he would be reminded in less than ten seconds that his life is but an unfortunate series of daily disasters, and his current reprieve short-lived. And it comes in the form of a young woman who had waltzed through the crowd and is now latching onto his arm with garishly pink manicured nails, her wavy blonde hair already casting a dark cloud over Kusuo’s face. Aiura Mikoto, resident soothsayer and trendsetter gal. Inconvenience No. 1. Ah. So it begins. “Wassup, Kusuo!” Aiura chirps a little too brightly. Already two or three mob characters in the konbini are throwing scandalized looks their way, but to Aiura they’re nothing but background scenery and lazily drawn silhouettes. “Who woulda thunk we’d meet here like this? It must totes be our destiny as soul mates, fer sure!” Isn’t it more because someone is totes a stalker? Kusuo deadpans telepathically her way, even as he makes no real attempt to avoid Aiura’s smothering embrace. Instead, he fixes her with a stare as blank as stone canvas. This is an invasion of privacy. Also, what’s with the meta observation in the previous paragraph? Stop messing with the readers like that. “Man, you sure are a ray of sunshine sometimes,” Aiura pouts, before she breaks into a giggle and relents. She unlatches herself from him, putting some distance between them. “Anyway, can’t your BFF like, just accidentally bump into you while shopping for the same box of snacks you no doubt travelled all the way out here for?” So you admit you really are a stalker then, Kusuo counters drily, only to frown again at the sudden creeping presence of another aura. He feels the weight of another arm draping carelessly over his shoulder, followed by the brusque yapping of an over-eager and desperate hot-blooded young male in his ears. “Yooo, Saiki-san! What a coincidence!” Toritsuka Reita, the spirit medium and an exemplary specimen of the most depraved life-form, the lecherous scum. Also known as Inconvenience No. 2. Saiki Kusuo, a man most unfortunate, lets out a weary sigh. “I see you’ve got that accusatory glare painted all over your face.” Toritsuka wags an annoying finger before Kusuo. “Now, now. Before you also accuse me of stalking, Mister Doom and Gloom, let me just say that I’m only here for one thing.” He flicks a furtive glance towards a discreet corner of the magazine section. The shelves are filled with magazines wrapped in plastic, large R-18 stickers plastered across the covers and over the spines much like indecent warning signs. Toritsuka dabs towards the third shelf, waving a mini poster at both Kusuo and Aiura, and this sentence then abruptly proceeds to describe the close-up of said poster—a particularly titillating centre spread featuring a curvaceous model’s skimpily clad... assets. “Surely there’s no better reason to be here now than for the special compilation of EROmag’s Greatest Upskirts And Panty-shots Of The Month!” Toritsuka exclaims, echoing the thoughts of all resident perverts. “Ugh, grody to the max,” Aiura says, lips curled in utter revulsion. For once, the stars are aligned and Kusuo finds himself wholeheartedly agreeing with her sentiment. Before he can get a retort in edgewise however, he’s unceremoniously tugged closer into Toritsuka’s one-armed embrace, who then proceeds to thump a hand over Kusuo’s chest in a grand show of obnoxious male posturing and solidarity. “You women will never understand,” Toritsuka counters with an ingratiating smirk. “But Saiki-san and I, we’re bosom buddies, connoisseurs of refined aesthetics. Together, we’ll finally gaze upon those heavenly lace panti—A-ACKK!!” He hacks up a lung just as Kusuo nonchalantly drives a sharp elbow right into his solar plexus, causing him to stagger backwards onto the floor. Bosom buddies? Kusuo echoes ominously, glaring daggers at the pathetic writhing form before him. Pretty sure that ridiculous thump you just pulled is both an outrage and insult of my modesty. Hey, can I call the police? I’m calling the police. Aiura nods at that, lips curved into a Cheshire grin and looking extremely pleased with herself as though she’s the one to suggest calling the cops. “Delusional sleazebags should just crawl back into the garbage bin where they belong. Like the skeevy trash panda that they are, right Kusuo?” “Who are you calling delusional, huh?!” Toritsuka snaps, jumping back to his feet. “I’ll have you know that Saiki-san and I have been nothing but the most loyal, the tightest of all bosom buddies—” Refer to me as your bosom buddy again and I’ll crush your windpipe, Kusuo interjects without missing a beat, and the EROmag poster in Toritsuka’s hand spontaneously combusts into flames. “Argh, not the panties!!” Toritsuka yelps, watching in despair as the poster shrivels up in the blaze, only to catch sight of the eerie, voidless depths of Kusuo’s inscrutable gaze. The spirit medium pales at the split-second reminder of his fleeting mortality, sweat dripping down his nape as he carefully backs away from the precarious jaws of death. “B-B-Bros! I-I meant that we’re the best kind of bro-some buddies, ahahaha! T-That is to say, brotherly and wholesome—R-right, Saiki-san? So don’t get all conceited just because you’ve got big knockers, Tits McGee!!” “Pfft, brotherly and wholesome? As if!” Aiura scoffs, unimpressed. “You’re about as wholesome as your d*ck aura and a college frat boy’s porno stash. Just admit you ain’t nothing but a tiresome anime trope!” “Look who’s talking, Miss Fanservice. This is a wholesome shounen series, so how about you take those bazongas back to Hooters where they belong!” “Haaah? You looking for a fight, you raunchy racoon?!” “Bring it on then!” Kusuo scowls at the petty squabbling, exasperated at how easily his quiet Sunday was already going awry, much like the metaphorical train wreck poised for a manic spiral off its rails. He decides to take his leave then from the two inconveniences bickering loudly, making his way towards the self-checkout station near the entrance. He pays for his items, stealthily packing them away with a subtle flick of his psychokinesis, and is only a few paces away from complete freedom at last when the generic musical jingle blares from the speakers overhead. “♪~Welcome to F☆mily Mart Konbini, We Guarantee 99.9% Shopping Satisfaction! It’s A Matter of Convenience~! ♪” Kusuo frowns at the jingle. Why is it only 99.9% satisfaction? And really, a matter of convenience? Not when he’d already run into two inconveniences in a row and all in a convenience store. Is God conspiring with the universe and pulling a sick prank on him right now? What a horrible sense of humour. The automatic doors at the entrance slide wide open then, and in saunter three terribly familiar faces—Kaidou Shun, Kuboyasu Aren, and Nendou Riki. Inconvenience No. 3, No. 4, and No. 5 respectively. “What did I tell you, Aren? Not only did we manage to beat traffic, but this unexpected change in my Sunday routine would’ve thrown a wrench into Dark Reunion’s plans of attempted kidnapping. Too bad I, The Jet-Black Wing, am always several steps ahead. Heh.” “Uhmm, yeah I guess… Hey, Shun, look! There isn’t a queue for the limited edition Ginta-Man figurine raffle tickets here at all. Good thing you insisted we meet at the crack of dawn—Tch, Nendou, don’t dawdle around and block the entrance like that! What’re you looking at anyway?” “Oh? I thought I saw my pal just a few seconds ago...” “Huh, Saiki’s here too-?! Oh, you mean that. Don’t be daft, Nendou, that’s just a cardboard cut-out of that kiddie hero show, Cyborg Cider-man Mark II.” Seriously?? Kusuo curses irritably as he dives inconspicuously out of sight from the passing trio, right into the bath and shampoo aisle. It’s just been a series of inconveniences one after another this morning, the metaphorical train wreck already hurtling itself past the edge of no return. Good grief, what a pain. May as well have the rest of the cast show up next— Another cheesy musical jingle, another swoosh of the sliding doors, and— “Waahh, it’s really you, Kaidou-kun!” “Hello, what a nice surprise to run into everyone here.” “Oh, hey there, Yumehara and... Offu~! T-T-Teruhashi-san?!” Saiki Kusuo, ever the suffering protagonist, drags a hand over his face. See? God hates him. Two aisles over, he can still hear Aiura and Toritsuka’s voices drifting over: “Man, I’m sick of looking at your pervy mug. C’mon, Kusuo, let’s ditch this loser—Huh, where did you run off to, Kusuo?!” “Your petty squawking has given us all an earache and must’ve driven Saiki-san off as well!” Oi, oi, Kusuo flinches inwardly, seized by a helpless fear of watching his quiet Sunday careening off the cliff and further away from his grasp. Quit yelling out my name like that and throwing me to the wolves already! Too late. At the mention of Kusuo’s name, Nendou cranes his neck 270 degrees Exorcist-style like a hideously monstrous owl and rushes over to Toritsuka’s side. “Oh! Did you just say my pal is here?!” he exclaims happily, shaking Toritsuka by the shoulders like a dog shaking an unfortunate chew toy. “I knew I’d seen him when we walked in earlier!” Not to be outdone by Nendou, Teruhashi also leaps forward before Aiura with none of her previous composure, her unblemished, porcelain visage now dusted with a hint of rose, a conflicted mix of perplexity and (envious) shock pooling in her angelic eyes. “D-Did you say ‘Saiki’?! H-Hey, Aiura-san, you did say ‘Saiki’ and not actually ‘Kusuo’, right? M-My, I must have misheard things, right? R-Right?!” “What the heck is going on? Is Saiki really here?” Anxious, Kusuo grits his teeth at the growing clamour as his friends converge from all corners of the store towards the aisle where he’d been forced to hide. Guess there’s no avoiding it after all, he frets despairingly, and in less than a nanosecond, teleports unnoticed from the konbini to an empty street outside. Kusuo sighs, relieved to have finally escaped. Minor inconveniences aside, perhaps a quiet Sunday spent savouring chocolate brownie and cherry parfait in the comfort of his home isn’t beyond his reach yet. What? Didn’t he just use his powers for self-interest to teleport out of a sticky situation? Foolish readers, that was for self-preservation and completely acceptable, of course. He holds his shopping bag close, pleased that he’d managed to avoid a disaster, and begins to walk down the street—only to freeze mid-step when he feels a sudden splitting headache jolt through him… A flash of images appears: Aiura and Toritsuka crouching in fear together, Kuboyasu bracing his bleeding arm, Kaidou screaming shrilly as he shields Yumehara and Teruhashi from a masked man brandishing a gun, Nendou digging his nose with his pinky—That’s just disgusting, no one wants to see that, stop it!! The vision finally ends, and Kusuo lifts a hand to his face, massaging his temple to clear the precognitive fog from his mind. An armed robbery, huh. He lets out another resigned sigh. Good grief—What a pain, Saiki ‘I-don’t-(but I actually really do)-care-about-my-friends’ Kusuo mutters internally in annoyance, even as he yeets himself head-first into other people’s business and right back into the convenience store to stop a future robbery. Still he smiles, eyes soft with perhaps the slightest flicker of affection for this dysfunctional bunch of people in his disastrous life. Someone has to protect them and save the day, after all.

–End–

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo #aiura mikoto #toritsuka reita #fanfic #too lazy to tag all the characters here #this show's over the top ridiculousness and crack is 10/10 my type of comedy #i love it lol

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shadowthrone-ammanas · 5 years

Note

Can we get a sequel to Chat? If possible?

Thank you both for the request!

Something’s Off

Cooking was one of the things Hat Kid just wasn’t interested in. Food was great, she loved eating, but making it was a real pain and not fun at all. But it was Cooking Cat’s thing and she’d gotten Mu into too. So Hat Kid let the two of them to play around in her kitchen while she translated a recipe from her one and only cookbook for them.

Their enthusiasm made it the most fun cooking session Hat Kid had ever had. Not that that was saying much because cooking just wasn’t fun to her. But she was still grateful for the distraction when the sound of the kitchen door flopping open came from behind her.

She placed the cook book on the counter before snapping around to see who it was. … “Snatcher!” She hadn’t expected to see him here ever. Normally when he wanted to talk to her, he went to his spot in her room and waited. He’d had to shrink quite a bit to fit through the kitchen doors too, something she’d never seen him do before.

“Hey kiddo,” she said with his usual cocky grin though.

“You,” Mu said with a huff, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “You’re garbage.”

“Uh… Mu, maybe don’t insult the powerful specter,” Cooking Cat said with a grimace as she put a hand on Mu’s shoulder.

“I’ll do what I want. He’s a bastard and I hate him.”

“Eh, it’s whatever,” he said with a dismissive handwave. There was something off about it though? Like, the movement didn’t seem quite right. Though Hat Kid couldn’t pin down exactly why, maybe she was just imagining things. “Hate me if you wish, I can’t be bothered to care.”

“Please be nice Mu,” Hat Kid said. “He’s my BFF so you guys need to get along.”

“You’re insane, befriending him. But whatever, we all knew that already. Let’s get back to cooking.” Mu turned away to face the stove again.

“You want to help us cook Snatcher?” Hat Kid was pleased by the idea of spending time with multiple of her friends at once, it didn’t happen often.

“I’m a ghost kid, what makes you think I’d have any interest in cooking?” He moved his arms as he spoke, not too unusual but… still it still didn’t seem right.

A tad worried now, Hat Kid jogged over to him. She might be imagining things but more often than not when her instincts told her something was off, it was. “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning to whisper so Cooking Cat and Mu wouldn’t hear. “Is something wrong?”

Snatcher’s grin widened. “You really do care about me, huh? How sweet!”

“Um… yes of course I care about you, you’re my BFF. But you didn’t answer my question. You seem a bit off today so… what’s up with that?”

“Oh, lots of stuff really. I’ve been having a rather bad day, things just keep going wrong.” Okay, yeah, he wasn’t just a bit off, he was super off. He would never be open like that. “It’s about to get better though.”

He snapped forward, wrapping a hand around her throat before she could react. Squeezing, he lifted her, leaving her feet to dangle several feet off the ground as she pawed at his hand.

“Hey!” Mu shouted from the other side of the room followed a second later by the sound of magic blasting.

“Let’s not anger the powerful specter,” Snatcher said. “It’s not a smart idea, especially when I have a hostage.”

Mu growled in frustration, meaning she thankfully probably hadn’t been hit by the blast. Vision starting to grow fuzzy already, Hat Kid pulled out her umbrella and whacked Snatcher with it.

“Nope, can’t hurt me,” he said with a giggle. Not how he normally laughed at all.

He ducked back through the kitchen doors into the central area and tossed her. She hit the glass window with a thump before falling to the floor. Gasping for breath, she struggled to stand up and retrieve her umbrella from where it had fallen. She straightened in time to see Snatcher had jumped down from the balcony and Mu and Cooking Cat and run out of the kitchen to watch what was going on.

“It’s not him,” Hat Kid said. “It’s someone pretending to be him.” Another ghost probably, they could shapeshift after all and change their voices. So, she knew it wasn’t Snatcher.

“Nope, kiddo, I assure you, it’s me. Want some proof?” He shapeshifted to look an awful lot like the pictures she’d seen of the Prince in Vanessa’s mansion. “Let’s have some fun though.” He snapped, forming a magic barrier just in time to block Mu from jumping onto him with her teeth bared, it would’ve been funny under different circumstances.

More barriers popped up, boxing the two of them in. Hat Kid rushed him, smacking him with the umbrella. It did nothing of course, he was a ghost, without the blue potion she couldn’t hurt him. He giggled again as he summoned a pecking sword into his hand.

“You know,” he said with a grin as he lifted it, “I never actually learned how to use one of these. You’d think I would, being a prince and all, but nope, no one ever taught me. I learned to play the cello instead which honestly is more interesting anyway, more useful, less cliché. But that should make this interesting.” He swung at her.

She jumped back, avoiding it quite easily because it was slower that she would’ve thought. “You’re a bastard! Why are you doing this?”

“I’m bored and it’s fun.” He swung again, sloppy and slow, far too easy to dodge. He really didn’t know how to use a melee weapon. So why was he using one? Especially when he had magic.

He insisted on it though, slashing at her some more. If she didn’t know better, she’d said he was purposefully making it easy to dodge his attacks. He wasn’t even using magic other than for the barriers. She attacked back at every opportunity, smacking him with her umbrella, throwing her own exploding cocktails at him with the brewing hat which did nothing. But what else could she do? She was boxed in with him, she was going to fight.

“You know,” he eventually said with a sigh, “I was expecting you to call out to me during this battle. Appeal to the ‘real’ me and all that, normally when one’s loved one attacks them, that’s what they do. But you’re just wailing away at me like it’s no big deal if you hurt your BFF or not.”

“Huh? What are you talking about asshole? You’re not giving me any choice! Stop impersonating Snatcher and trying to hit me with your sword and I’ll stop attacking you.” She ducked in to whack him again, hard as she could in the midsection.

“I told you I’m not impersonating him, I’m the real Snatcher. I even proved it to you.”

“You didn’t prove shit! If I can find out about that, so can other people and ghosts. So stop impersonating him, it’s rude!”

He sighed again and stopped attacking. She came in for another whack but this time he caught the umbrella, dropping the sword to do so. He lifted it, bringing her up with it, kicking as she clung to the umbrella’s handle. “I could kill you but… I have a bit of a soft spot for kids. And you’re an alien, that makes you interesting. I suppose instead, I shall reveal the game, you’re lack of understanding makes it less fun. Though, I suppose I can’t blame you for that, one would not normally think a powerful ghost could be possessed or controlled by another being. It’s unprecedented for sure.”

Before she could ask what the heck that meant, the air above and a bit behind Snatcher shimmered. Another being faded into existence faded into that space. Gray and misshapen hands, face, and head, in dirty once regal clothing. There were red strings coming form his fingers, going into Snatcher’s back. He moved his fingers and Snatcher moved, letting go of the umbrella. Hat Kid somehow managed to land on her feet and not lose balance, barely though.

“I’m Moonjumper. I hail from the horizon.” He bowed slightly. Snatcher, still obviously in his control mimicked the move, a bit slower and stiffer. … That explained the odd slow movements, he was being controlled like a puppet.

“Let him go!” Hat Kid pointed her umbrella at Moonjumper, still ready to do battle. He may be floating too high for her to reach but she’d find a way if she had to.

He giggled, very similar to the way he’d made Snatcher giggle. “I suppose I can. I had my fun and he was vulnerable to your attacks so you gave him quite the beating so at least someone’s hurting. Maybe we’ll play this game some other time and have a real fight. I think I’d win. Bye!” He lifted a hand and waved, making Snatcher do this same.

“It was fun,” he made Snatcher say before vanishing in a puff of fog.

Free of the red strings, Snatcher slumped limply to ground with a groan. He mumbled something that was probably a curse word but Hat Kid wasn’t sure.

“Ha!” Mu shouted. The barriers were gone too, allowing her and Cooking Cat to see what was happening. “You won Hat Kid, good job! Take that you dumb noodle ghost! It’s what you get!”

“Like I told you, it wasn’t him,” Hat Kid said, glaring at her. “You didn’t see, but it wasn’t him. So be nice.” She crouched down beside him as he shifted into his normal shape. “You okay?”

“No,” he said with a groan. “You hit real hard kid. And as a whole, being puppeteered ain’t fun.”

“I thought you were immune to physical attacks most of the time.”

“Most of the time yeah, not all the time.”

“Oof.” Hat Kid grimaced. She’d hit him an awful lot, huh? “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” He vanished, teleporting away like a jerk. He could’ve stayed and explained things more while he rested some. She’d have to track him down later for answers and to make sure he was okay.

“You okay hon?” Cooking Cat asked from across the room with Mu. “You maybe want to explain what just happened?”

With a sigh, Hat Kid stood up. “I’m fine. And uh… basically Snatcher was being controlled by a guy named Moonjumper. He was a real jerk and I hate him.” If he ever showed his face around here again, she’d smack it with an umbrella. He deserved no less.

For this request event.

#My Writing #ahit #A Hat In Time #snatcher & hat kid #Moonjumper #Background Mama Cooking Cat

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Wish I Was - Bragi x Fem!Reader Pt 2/2

I had a lot of fun with this, especially since I originally planned a few extra chapters of “Wish I Wasn’t” but never got to publish them. So this extra series let me explore a little more; although the original outcome wasn’t anything like this.

~~~~~

Part 2: With You

“Thank you for your patronage,” I say with a service smile. A brief wave bids the man goodbye as I take my leave. Once I’m sure I’m well enough away, I pull the black coat over my attire, pull up a black portal, and leave this world.

Madam Fluffcoat’s Books Unnew—that’s what became of my life after the tragedy ten years ago. My bookstore became far more niche than the one I had on my home world. For the most part, every volume in my possession is a second-hand specialty book often requested by magic users for one reason or another—usually rare, hard-to-find books. And it all exists in my own little dimension.

This all happened when I came across the man in the black coat. He took me away from Scala Ad Caelum and taught me magic to defend myself and run this specialty bookshop. He does have a large outstanding tab which really isn’t much to gripe about considering the success and adventures I’ve had. It’s been a difficult, crazy life but it saved me from imploding in that little apartment I used to own.

Stepping from the dark corridor, I let the hood of the black coat fall back and check my delivery list. I really don’t want to be here, let alone delivering a book to the citadel; I curse myself for accepting a delivery to Scala Ad Caelum.

The protective garment slips off and gets stuffed into the magical satchel while I fluff up the fur of my namesake. A brief moment is taken to absorb the natural comfort of the blue coat. Sadly, it’s lost that scent I loved; still, it means everything to me. I never would’ve thought an object could be so important to me until I nearly killed someone for spilling coffee on it. Somehow, it’s managed to hold up and is still in pretty good condition.

Feet refuse to drag here and I even considered just teleporting to the castle to get this over with; however, I remind myself not to waste magic so needlessly. Inside, I ask a few passersby for directions to the person I’m looking for and climb my way up the stairs, ignoring the memories I have of wandering this place. I feel like a spec of darkness in this dominion of light, struggling not to asphyxiate—to maintain the fragile sanctuary I’ve built in spite of this place.

Fingers rap against the closed door and I hear an answer. “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, I find a man sitting at a desk with a woman leaning against it. They seem familiar though I try not to think about it.

“I have a delivery for Master Hermod,” I announce.

“Oh, right,” the man says, hopping to his feet. “I’m quite impressed. These came much sooner than I expected.”

“I do pride myself on customer service—even with the slightly trickier-to-find books.” A small pouch of munny plops into my hand which I switch out for a pair of books.

His slate eyes light up as he examines the texts. “If it’s a review you’re looking for I’m happy to recommend your services.”

“Thank you,” I say cheerfully. But I don’t want work from Scala.

This is when the woman, a lady with long silver hair and a feline aura, approaches. Amber eyes look down at the books I handed over where a business card sits on top. “Wait, Madam Fluffcoat?”

I hesitate. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“As in…Smarmy Fluffcoat?”

The man’s eyes widen, tracking across my jacket. “Oh my gods!”

Suddenly, the woman rushes out of the room, leaving me at a loss with Master Hermod. Yes, that had been the inspiration for my new persona; I never told anyone about it though. “H-How did she…?”

“We’re friends of Bragi.” My stomach drops and I really regret taking this job now. “That coat was like his trademark.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my trademark now,” I mutter bitterly. If I don’t go, this unsuspecting man is going to witness a breakdown. “If you’ll excuse me, I still have some deliveries that need tending to.”

He takes my sleeve. “Uh, wait!”

My arm jerks out of his grasp. “Do not put your hands on me!” I snap.

Hands come up in alarm and surrender. “Okay! Okay, I’m sorry but could you just wait here for a moment?”

“No. I have other clients and a schedule to keep. I need to go.” So desperately, I need to get out of here.

Once again, I begin to leave, only to be stopped a second time. “No, please!”

When I turn on him, apparently the fury on my face is enough to get him to let go. “No! You stupid keyblade wielders think you’re all impervious to the consequences but you’re not!” Oh, this is bad—like angry tears bad. “You think you can go around and do whatever you want and that everything will be just fine but that’s not true! Do you not realize that you can get hurt or the kind of worry you people cause others?! Life doesn’t bend to your whims! I don’t care if you think the light isn’t all powerful; it’s not! That belief that light can never be defeated is bullshit and if that stupid mentality wasn’t so ingrained into your training, maybe Bragi would still be—”

“Hey.”

Gods, it hurts so much I have to make sure that this warrior didn’t stab me. When I realize it wasn’t even him who spoke, I turn around.

My heart is breaking. It’s been ten long years and it feels like I’m in the middle of it all over again. Quivering hands clasp across my mouth to contain the turmoil resurfacing and yet, when everything blurs, I let my head fall forward and fail.

“We’ll, uh…leave you two alone,” my client mutters, followed shortly after by a closing door.

Trembling knees threaten to take me down. “Woah, hey. You should sit down.”

The second his fingers graze my arm, I lurch back. I can barely believe he’s standing in front of me. He’s different, older, and clearly has endured something, but it’s definitely Bragi. An anguished relief swirls in me as I stare at the man I thought had been dead for ten years.

Heavy pity fills those honey-colored eyes I would’ve killed to see again. “I missed you.”

“You-You’re supposed to be dead,” I stammer, still trying to understand.

That smirk he used to wear every day seems so weary. “Yeah, I know. Now will you please sit down before you pass out. You’re freakin’ me out.” His only hand waves to the seat at the window.

Somehow my legs manage to hold long enough to carry me towards the bench. I can’t stop staring which means I can’t stop crying. He’s here—he’s still alive. It leaves me utterly speechless.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

My head shakes. “I thought you were dead.”

“We all did,” he sighs. “And yet I’m still here. And Eraqus really screwed up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He gave you my jacket.”

Fingers wring the blue fabric. “He said you told him to give it to me if something happened.”

“Something did happen. I lost an arm. I almost died!” His fist clenches. “That’s why he gave it to you. He just…made a preemptive call.” As I continue to stare at him incredulously, he lets out a puff. “I gave him the box after we broke up because I wasn’t ready to let go; I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. Then we were attacked and…and the only thing I could think about as I was dying was how much I regretted not listening to you—not because I was ready to give up being a keyblade warrior but because of all the things I put you through. You were everything I could’ve asked for and all I did was make you suffer.”

His gaze is far away, looking into the terror of back then. Somehow, my heart is living in the past because it really is like we were back then: seeing him in pain tears me apart.

That hand rubs at his eyes. “Somehow I pulled through. Then Eraqus told me what he did and I was pissed. I knew you probably thought I was dead. As soon as they let me out, I went to your place and found everything was gone.” This time, his chest shudders as he inhales.

It doesn’t matter what I say, I can’t take away the pain from the past no matter how much I wish I could. “I couldn’t stay there; not when I imagined every day that you would walk in like nothing ever happened. I…I wasn’t strong enough,” I breathe, trying not to backslide into the sobbing.

“I know. For a while, I couldn’t stand to be here either, but I was afraid if I left, you’d never find me.” This time, his simper is a little more real. “Isn’t that sad? Even after all this time, I’m still crazy about you.”

My heart seizes. More tears begin to spill because I know that I’m still in love with him—after naming my business after him and clinging to his coat for so long, there’s no way I couldn’t be—but nothing has changed.

“No. No, don’t say that,” I squeak, my lungs spasming while I fight against the hyperventilating.

He’s no longer smiling. “Why?”

“Because you’re still here in this castle. Everything I was afraid of happened and you’re still here doing it! I’m so, so happy you’re alive, but I still can’t stand to watch you do this! I’m not—”

“Fine.”

My claims of not being able to cope catch on my tongue. “What?”

“Fine,” he repeats firmly. “I quit.”

When we started dating, Bragi was incredibly proud of the path he’d chosen and he honestly was a talented fighter—it was after his first off-world mission, when he came back with some heavy bruising, that all the anxiety hit me. Still, he stuck to his dream which lead to our breakup. Even if I hated it, I couldn’t imagine Bragi giving up his career.

“Wh-What are you saying?”

Sitting at my side, Bragi slips his hand into mine. “I’m saying that I thought protecting the worlds was the most important thing in my life—I was wrong. I don’t regret it and I never will, but I haven’t stopped thinking about all this time I missed with you. I’ve spent so long thinking about how I fucked up and I was never gonna see you again.” That teary smile is squeezing on my heart. “But here you are. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Hell, I’d give up my other arm if you’ll just tell me what I need to do for a second chance.”

That’s Bragi—always making light of situations like this. “Oh my gods, Bragi! Don’t say things like that!” Even with my soaking face, I let out a breathy laugh.

“Why not? It’s my arm,” he argues, one of those signature smirks playing up. “I’d say I’d die for another chance but I’m too impatient to wait another ten years.” Groaning, I slap my free hand to my face. “C’mon, babe, what do you say?”

At this point, it would be in poor taste for me to stick to my ultimatum but memories of that all-consuming anxiety haunt me.

“Bragi,” I sigh.

My stomach squirms when his forehead bumps against mine, putting those eyes I’ve dreamt of barely centimeters away. Spiced cinnamon wafting by nearly sends me spiraling into sobs again. “What do I need to do for you to say yes?”

Eyes clamp shut so as not to be swayed. “I can’t…I can’t do it again. I was so scared you were going to disappear. And you did.”

“I already told you I’d quit.”

“Could you really?”

He chuckles. “You have no idea how many times I’ve considered it to search for you. Besides, I think my career peaked when I saved Xehanort.” His nose crinkles. “And these brats they’ve got me training are a handful and kids just really aren’t my thing.”

Finally, I let out little giggle. “The nightmares of being a teacher?”

Leaning back, he’s still smiling. “You got that right. Last week I got a lecture from Urd because when a student asks you if something is dangerous or not, it is not appropriate to answer with ‘you know what the scientific method is, right?’”

“Oh my gods! What happened?!”

“Long story short, one of them jumped out a third story window and broke his arm.”

“WHAT?!”

“He thought an aero spell would cushion his fall…too bad they only know the first-tier spells…”

“You are a terrible teacher.”

“See? All the more reason for me to retire.”

“What about your students?”

“I’ll just make Eraqus take ‘em as payback for his fuck up. He’s been wanting to be a teacher for a while now anyway and I think he’s got more patience and smarts to deal with Terra and Aqua than I do.”

“As irresponsible as always,” I hum.

That smile, honest and real, has me falling for him all over again. “Whatever it takes.”

“I love you,” I just manage to say without my voice fading out.

A warm kiss presses to my forehead. “I love you too.”

#bragi #khdr bragi #kh bragi #bragi x reader #smarmy fluffcoat #fem!reader

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theatrelove3000 · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

AAAAAAAANNNNNDDDD I have returned. I figured since I am not sleeping, I might as well post another fic, so here we are! This one is one I wrote after I got back from a trip to the UK in September. I thought it would be a fun little nod to my trip, which I plan to take again and highly recommend if you can get there!

Summary: After three weeks of being apart, Loki goes to pick Noelle up from the airport on Midgard.

Welcome Home

Loki POV:

Three weeks. Noelle has been gone for three weeks. I understand that she is on a trip with her mother in Midgard but I miss her. I have not spent this much time apart from her for as long as I have known her, including the months before we began courting.

It is still dark outside when I get out of bed. I can barely sleep without her next to me anymore, let alone with her on another planet.

I jump out of bed, pulling on some pants in the process and pick my shirt up off my bed. I start to go for my vest and leathers when I realize what I'm doing. If I am to go to Midgard to pick her up at what she called the airport, I need to look like I was of Midgard. I begin looking for the box that I had brought with me from our last visit to Midgard, finally finding it in a drawer in my wardrobe. I take it out, open it, and empty it of his contents onto the deep green of my duvet. I pull from the pile a dark material called denim jeans, or so I am told.

'Whatever it is, it is comfortable and Midgard appropriate' I think to myself as I pull the trousers on. I find the black shirt and put it on. After finishing with the socks and leather "combat boots" Noelle bought for me, I shrug into the black leather jacket her mother found for me as a thank you for this excursion to a Midgardian flight zone.

The sun is just peeking through the curtains of my chambers when I finish getting ready.

Looking at the sundial for a specific time, I find that I still have a few hours until I am to leave for the Bifrost to retrieve Noelle and her mother. I decide that I can just pass the time in the library, though I had a feeling that I would not be able to focus on my work.

I teleported myself to our library and make my way to my desk. It was still littered with the books I had been reading before adjoining my chambers for the evening last night. It was good to know that the maids and servants hadn't touched anything, not that I thought they would. They usually just cleaned around my work station, unless Noelle forgets to move her own books off the sofa or the table in front of it. Then they just skipped the library all together.

I sat at my desk and pick up the book that is laying open in front of me. It's a book I borrowed from Noelle before she left. I am just getting around to reading it.

'It's a dystopian society. It may be a bit odd for you but it was all the rage here a few years ago.' She had told me. So far I am on the second of the three books. I have a feeling I will not like the way this tale ends. It seems like the kind of story that the main character dies at the end. As hard as I try to focus on the storyline, I can't get invested in it the way I normally would. Instead, I keep glancing at the sundial. I finally give up and set the book down, deciding to walk down into the dining hall. Before doing so, I transform my clothing temporarily so no one questions my attire.

As I sit down at my normal table, I hear my boisterous brother with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif arrive as well. They join me at the table as I pile food onto my plate.

"Good morning, Brother!"

"Good morning, Thor. You are especially hyperactive today. Any particular reason?"

"Have you not heard?" Fandral asks as he reaches over me to snatch a piece of toast.

"Heard what?"

"You really are holed up in the library, aren't you?" Teases Volstagg from across the table, stopping his conversation with my brother to smirk at me.

"I do not find interest in gossip. Just tell me what has happened." I snap at them, my patience running thin.

"Thor has made the decision to ask the lady he wishes to attend the upcoming ball with to do so," Sif explains rather coolly. I know she is in love with Thor and has been since our childhood. Little did she know...

Thor looks up with a grin of childish glee on his face. He glances at Sif then back at me, telling me who he was asking as though I didn't already know. I nodded at him, letting him know that I understand.

"Enough of me, my friends! Let us focus on something else instead. Loki," he turns to me, as I start to stand and escape from the table, "When is Noelle to return to Asgard? I have much to speak of with her."

His rather inopportune choice of words earns a hiss from Sif and looks of shock from the Warriors Three. I just smirk at his inability to get his point across with his words rather than a hammer.

"She is returning to her home in Midgard today and I will be accompanying her return to Asgard in a few days, in time for you to speak to her before the ball." The others look at me incredulously, truly believing that Thor wanted to ask my Noelle to go to the ball with him. Only Fandral has picked up on Thor's feelings for Sif and knew that he would be asking her, not Noelle. He also had enough of a brain to know that even if that was Thor's intention, I would tear him apart. He is just sitting next to me with his head bent, trying not to laugh.

Thor laughs loudly, snapping the others out of their reverie. Glancing at the nearest sundial, I excuse myself from the table and nod to my friends and brother.

Once I am out of the palace, I pick up my pace from walking, eventually running to the stables to collect Tempest from the waiting stable-hands. I mount and we race through the city to the Bifrost. Children chased us as we sped down the streets of Asgard, people waving at us as we pass. I urge Tempest faster, digging my heels into his sides. It wasn't long before we were met by Heimdall at the Bifrost.

Heimdall nods to me as I step onto the platform. I close my eyes as I feel the Bifrost work around me. When I open them again, I am standing in Noelle's mother's empty apartment. I stand for a moment, getting my bearings, before walking to Noelle's room. Before she departed, we sat and studied the maps and best ways of transportation for me to get to her. We decided that I could just walk, as I do not trust these Midgardian vehicles. I open the door to her room and see on her bed the instructions she gave me on how to get to the "airport" and where to find her when I get there. I know that our connection will lead me to her when she arrives but it is helpful to have it if I need it.

I transform my clothing back to the Midgardian style and start to make my way to the airport. It doesn't take very long, as my destination is only a few blocks away from Noelle's apartment. Before long, I am leaning against a pillar in the building at her gate, waiting for her to come back to me.

I don't have to wait long. I feel the pull of our connection as she gets closer to me. She must feel it, too, because when I see her as she comes down the moving stairs, she is looking around. I stand up straight as I see her, my heart skipping a beat. The moment she sees me, her eyes light up and she starts bouncing slightly, impatient for the stairs to bring her down to the ground. Her mother puts a hand on her shoulder to try and keep her from being too hyper.

The second she was able to, Noelle started running to me as fast as she could. She dropped her bag when she was only a few feet from me and flung herself into my waiting arms. Her arms snake around my neck and nuzzles her face in my shoulder. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. Lost in our little world, we didn't even notice when her mother was a few feet away.

"Hello, love." I mutter into her cheek. She lets out a muffled greeting. I chuckle at her, "You missed me, I take it?" She nods. I smile and set her down. I take her hand as I look over to her mother and nod at her. "Hello, Lady Beth. How was your trip?"

"It was lovely, Loki. Thank you. It's very nice to see you; I think Noelle agrees," She laughs, glancing at her daughter who has one hand laced with mine and the other holding onto my arm.

"I have missed her very much, my lady. I am glad she is home."

Beth smiles at me and tells Noelle to pick up her bag. I release her hand and pick it up myself. She picks up her smaller bag and weaves her fingers through mine again. I smile down at out intertwined hands.

We start to follow her mother out of the building where she waves into the street and a yellow vehicle pulls up to where we stand. The driver gets out and aids me in loading their bags into the open back of the vehicle.

I lower myself into where Noelle and Beth are sitting and close the door, upon which time my Noelle slides over the leather seat to me and curls into my side while her mother gives the man directions to her apartment.

"You know, I like this look," She says quietly, only to me, "it's very you."

I chuckle at her vague compliment and reply, "Thank you. I find it rather entertaining myself. Are Midgardians not taught as children that it is impolite to stare? I kept catching people looking at me as I walked."

She bites her lip, making me want to kiss her even more. "Most are told that it's rude to stare but you are way more attractive than anyone on this planet so they don't really care."

I smile and kiss the top of her head. "So, what was the best part of your trip? What did you see? Who did you meet? I wish to know all about it." I speak loud enough for her mother to hear us this time and join the conversation.

With this small invitation. Beth and Noelle launched into the tale of their travels that lasted until we were three-quarters of the way up the stairs to their apartment. Beth had taken hundreds of pictures of Noelle at the different sites and such while Noelle had taken pictures of the things around the sites in case we wanted to go there by ourselves.

Beth orders a pizza and the two ladies unpack as we await its arrival. I go with Noelle and lay across her bed as I watch her put her clothes in their proper places. We talk the whole time we are in there, catching up on what happened recently.

"Thor is actually going to ask her?" She exclaims as I tell her of what occured at breakfast this morning.

"It appears so. Though Sif, Hogan, and Volstagg are convinced he is asking you." I chuckle at her look of shock and tell her of the rest of the awkward conversation. By the end, both of us are unable to contain our laughter. It's at this point Beth comes in to tell us the food has arrived.

The three of us sit on the sofa in the living room and eat while watching whatever a "movie" is. Noelle tried to explain but it didn't make much sense to me. It is quite funny and entertaining though, so I don't mind.

When Beth and Noelle tire from their journey, Noelle makes a small scene about getting out the cot I slept on last time. Her mother laughs at this saying, "You really think I don't know that he is going to sleep in the bed with you? I don't mind, sweetheart, as long as you don't wake anyone up."

I smirk into my lap. Beth excuses herself to go to bed and Noelle comes up from behind where I am sitting on the sofa and wraps her arms around my shoulders. She rests her head on top of mine and I cover her hands with my own.

I hear her yawn and stand up, walk around the sofa and pull her to me. She moves her arms to wrap around my torso, her head to my chest. I envelope her in my arms and keep her close to me. After a moment of enjoying the silence in each other's company, I pull away, earning a slight whine from her in the process, and take her hand instead. I walk to her room with her following behind me, never letting go of my hand.

I open the door and she rushes in, dragging me to her bed. She crawls under the purple blankets and pulls me in after her. As I cover us both with the sheets, she curls up into my side, nuzzling her face into where my arm and shoulder connect to the rest of my body and lays one hand on my chest over my heart. It's her favorite place to be. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer, kissing her forehead. She giggles quietly and reaches up to kiss my jaw.

"Do you want to go out tomorrow? We can see a movie or sit in the park," She mutters into my neck.

"I will do whatever you wish to do, love. I am at your disposal." I feel her smile, feeling our usual rush of joy. I fall asleep quickly, finally feeling at peace with this beautiful woman between my arms.

~~~~~Le Time Skip~~~~~

Noelle POV:

I wake to the sound of deep breathing and the feeling of warmth around me. Turning around, I glance up at the sleeping prince with his arms around me, cradling me to his chest. I smile at how peaceful he looks. I kiss his jaw and slowly start to pull away. I manage to escape his death grip without waking him, quite a feat I might add, and slide out of bed. After making sure that Loki is covered by the blankets, I open the door as silently as I can and shut it behind me as I make my way to the kitchen.

When I check the clock on the stove, I see that it is almost ten in the morning.

"Damn jetlag," I mutter under my breath. I open the fridge and start grabbing things to make for breakfast. My mom comes in not long after.

"Morning, Momma." I say quietly.

"Good morning, baby." She replies and stands next to me as I start to crack some eggs, "Where is Loki? I assumed you two would be attached at the hip after what I witnessed yesterday." She bumps her hip against mine teasingly.

I giggle, "He's still asleep. I was hungry so I figured I would make the three of us some food before Loki and I head out for the day."

"Oh? Where are you going?"

"Not really sure yet. We haven't decided. Fell asleep before we could talk about it."

"Got it. Are you good here?" She asks, running water over her fingers to clean the eggs off.

I nod and she leaves to change. I am only alone for a moment when I feel hands on my waist and lips on my cheek.

"Hello, love."

"Hi," I lean back into him and turn my head to kiss his cheek.

"Do you know," his arms wrap around my waist tightly, "how terrifying it was to awaken alone in a place that I did not recognize at first? If you wanted to get up, you could have woken me."

"I know that you haven't been sleeping well, Loki. I'm not clueless," I grin and turn around in his arms, moving my hands to his chest. "Besides, I didn't want to disturb you. You looked so peaceful."

He smirks and lowers his forehead to mine. 'Thank you' he whispers into my mind.

'For what?' I respond.

'For knowing me better than I know myself.' I smile at this, kissing his nose.

'Then I believe I have to thank you for the same thing.'

We break away when we hear a throat clear, looking to see my mother's boyfriend standing awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen with my mom slightly behind him, trying not to laugh.

I feel my face heat up and hide in Loki's shoulder. I feel him chuckling at me and peek at him to see him smirking at my mom's boyfriend.

"Hi, James." I squeak from my place in the crook of Loki's neck.

"Hey, Noelle. And your name is Loki, correct?" He holds out his hand for Loki to shake, "We met before, I think. I didn't know you were together."

"We were not together when we last met," Loki explains calmly, "It was not long after we last saw each other (you, Noelle, and I) that we began dating."

I bite my lip when I hear him say the word "dating." That's a strictly Midgardian term. It was odd to hear it come out of my Asgardian boyfriend's mouth.

"Ah, I see. So you have been with her for about a year then. That's nice." James is trying to keep things from becoming more awkward and is failing miserably.

"Noelle, dear, why don't you and Loki go get changed? We will take over the food." Momma to the rescue! Nodding, I take Loki's hand and drag him out of the kitchen with a look thanking my mom.

The second the door to my bedroom was closed, the two of us burst out laughing. I have my hands on his sides and his are on my hips. We fall backwards on my bed which only intensifies our laughter. He lands on his back and I fall on his chest. At this point we can barely breathe and have to calm down. If we don't, mom or James will come in to make sure we are okay and catch us in this compromising position.

He gets a hold of himself before I do and I do my best to match my breathing to his.

As soon as we are both breathing normally again, I get off of him and walk over to my closet. I realize as I am going through my options that I don't know what to wear since I don't know what we are doing. I suddenly have an idea that will help us decide what we do today. I grab a flowy emerald green dress that is shorter in the front and longer in the back and toss it onto my bed. I move to my dresser and pull out a pair of denim shorts, then I look around the room before finding what I am looking for. Loki left a green button up shirt here last time he visited. I lay the two outfits next to each other on the bed and look at Loki.

"You pick. Whichever outfit you like better will be what we do today." I explain when he gives me a confused and slightly amused look. He nods and looks at the clothes before picking up the dress and holding it up to me, like I do when I am having trouble deciding on a certain article of clothing.

"I like the idea of you in my clothes but I think I prefer you in a gown." He smirks at me. I nod and take the dress from him.

Before I change, I go to the kitchen and ask my mom what she did with the shirt she bought Loki while we were in Scotland. I go and get it from her suitcase and bring it back to him. I toss it at him along with a pair of skinny jeans from the box in my closet we had put together on our last trip here. He goes to change in the bathroom and I quickly put on the dress. I am lacing up my gladiator sandals when he returns in his new outfit. The jeans we bought fit him nicely and the black v-neck makes me laugh. Printed on the front in white letters are the words "Low-Key." He is smiling and I can feel his amusement through our connection.

I stand up off my bed and he crosses my room in two steps, grabbing my hips and pulling me to him, kissing me sweetly.

"You look ravishing, darling." He mumbles when he pulls away.

"You don't look bad yourself." I reply with a grin.

We go and eat breakfast with Momma and James and then head out on our date.

We walk down to the bakery we went to the first time he visited and bought some pastries for the God of Mischief's sweet tooth. I then hail a taxi and ask him to take us to the beach. It is the end of August and all the kids had gone back to school so the beach is pretty much empty for us to stroll down in peace.

We take off our shoes and walk in the surf hand in hand. We talk about nothing and eat our pastries and just enjoy each other's company.

"Do you know what one of the best parts about being in Midgard is?" Loki asks me as he begins to walk backwards in front of me.

"What's that?"

He stops and kisses me full on the lips, holding me to him. I snake my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. When we break apart for air he answers me.

"I don't have to be so careful with my actions in public with you. I can do more than offer my arm to you. I can hold your hand. I can touch your face. I can kiss your cheek. It's truly freeing."

I smile and place my hands on either side of his face, bringing his lips back to mine.

#loki fluff #loki x oc #loki odinson #loki cuddles #loki fanfic #avengers #avengers fic

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iamthegaysmurf · 5 years

Note

Ok 3 and 28 is so soft and already so wayhaught but I think I am going to request 24, please.

03. forehead kisses28. forehead touches or nose nudging or any soft variation on the theme24. ‘just really needed a hug’ sort of a hug13. family

@darienplays6688, I wasn’t sure if you were asking for #24 instead of #3 and #28, or if you wanted that in addition to both of them. So… I went ahead and included a little bit of those for you, too. Just in case.

———-

Okay, so… Here’s the thing. I know these were all supposed to be “Super Soft And Fluffy” prompts, but… I think my brain overloaded on all of the fluff that wrote during the last three or four of these prompt fills. If I didn’t let out some of this bottled up angst, I’m pretty sure I was going to explode.

So, like… That’s not to say that this doesn’t have some really soft moments in it (and a happy ending, of course), but there’s definitely some angsty stuff along the way, and it’s not what I would call “fluffy” by any stretch of the imagination.

I’m really sorry, guys. But I just couldn’t do it. I hope you can still find a way to enjoy this fic that you’re getting instead. : /

———-

Set just a day or two after the end of 3x07, but before it picks up with any of the events of 3x08.

Also, the scenes are not in chronological order. It starts in the present, and then alternates between flashbacks and then back to the present again. Should hopefully be pretty easy to follow, but just wanted to give you a head’s up.

———-

“Hey, Babygirl. I think you might need to come down here.”

“What’s wrong? Is it Nicole? Is she hurt?”

“No, she’s okay. She’s just, uh… really quiet and kind of spacing out. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was stoned. But this is Nicole ‘I have a lawbook shoved up my ass’ Haught we’re talking about here, so…”

“Wynonna.”

“Yeah. Anyway. I think maybe the stuff from today just kind of got to her a little.”

“Oh, god. The little girl. Was she…?”

“No! No. The kid’s fine. Haught was a goddamn superhero today. But don’t you fucking dare ever tell her I said that.”

“Where are you guys? I’m packing up now.”

“You can meet us at the Shelterlands Forest Trailhead.”

“That’s where you guys are? Fudgenuggets. No wonder Nicole is spooked. I’ll be there in like thirty minutes.”

“Half an hour?!”

“I’m at the library, Wynonna. Unless one of you has figured out how to teleport yet, then it will take me thirty minutes to get all the way out there.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with your ginger poptart until then? I think she’s slightly burnt right now instead of lightly toasted.”

“I don’t know, Wynonna… Maybe try talking to her?”

“Come on, Waves. You know I’m fucked when it comes to all of that soft and gooey feelings bullshit.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“Just… hurry. You gotta fix your girlfriend before I end up breaking her even worse.”

“You sure you’re okay, Waves?”

“I’m fine, Wynonna,” Waverly answers, shoving notebooks and tomes into her bag. “There’s nothing going on today. I’m just gonna do a deep-dive into some of this research. I’m tired of us always being two steps behind on everything.”

Wynonna understands the frustration. They’ve been behind the 8-ball on this thing from the very beginning, dating all the way back to Wyatt himself.

But she knows there’s more to Waverly’s mood, and it has everything to do with Mama skipping town again a couple of days ago. At least she’d left a letter this time, but that had done little to quell Waverly’s heartbreak. She doesn’t think Waverly had been completely caught off guard by the disappearance – it was less surprise, and more disappointed resignation – but that doesn’t mean she’s hurting any less.

Wynonna wishes there was more she could do to console Waverly, but to be completely honest, she still hasn’t quite recovered from the sting of it herself. And that’s not counting the fact that she’d discovered Doc’s betrayal not five minutes after reading the warning Mama had left her.

Welcome to the shitshow, population: me.

“If you’re gonna do research all day, why are you packing everything up?” Wynonna eventually asks, worried about what Waverly might really be planning. She’s not sure she has the energy, nor the mental capacity, to save her sister from some half-cocked mission she’s concocted to prove something to herself and everyone else in this godforsaken town.

“I’m just going to the library,” Waverly snaps, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“Whoa, now,” Wynonna says, dropping her feet from the table they’ve been propped up on. “Calm your tits there, girlie. I was just wondering why you aren’t going to use the BBD office since everything is already here.”

“Sorry,” Waverly sighs heavily, her shoulders sagging as she drops into the nearest chair. “It’s just… Jeremy’s doing one of his experiments and he’s gonna be back any minute and I just don’t think I have it in me today to listen to him ramble all day.” Shame causes her head to hang low, and she picks absentmindedly at one of the pockets on her bag. “Nicole’s gonna be out on patrols all day to try and get her visibility up right before the election, so I can’t even use the desk in her office, and I just… I just want to be alone with my books for a while. My mind needs some peace and quiet,” she mumbles at the end with a half-hearted shrug.

Wynonna hesitates for a minute before finally biting the bullet and reaching out to place her hand over Waverly’s on the table between them.

“Whatever you need, Babygirl,” she says quietly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know,” Waverly says, eventually meeting Wynonna’s eye, but Wynonna can tell by the tremor in her voice that she doesn’t know. That Mama’s selfishness has proven to be a crippling setback for Waverly, erasing the year and a half of progress that Wynonna and Nicole have been making toward helping Waverly believe they’ll never leave her.

Her baby sister may as well be at the bottom of the well that Bobo recently vacated, for all the good the past couple of months have done toward her abandonment issues.

Wynonna continues to hold Waverly’s gaze for a few more seconds, saddened by the doubt she finds there. Squeezing her hand one last time, she finally leans over the table and kisses Waverly’s forehead. She could kill Mama for what she’s done to Waverly again, and she could kill Doc for being complicit in her getaway.

She grits her teeth as she pulls back and stands from her chair.

That’s a problem for another day.

“So, you said Tater Haught’s gonna be on patrol all day?” Wynonna asks as casually as she can.

“Yes…” Waverly looks Wynonna up and down. “Why…?”

Wynonna shrugs, playing with the fringe on her leather jacket.

“Thought maybe she’d like some company.”

“You are volunteering to ride around on patrol with Nicole?” Waverly hesitates,narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What are you really up to…?”

“Nothing,” Wynonna huffs. “I’m just bored. The Revs are quiet. We have no new leads on Ball-Shart. You’re off to find your Fortress of Solitude, and that leaves me with Opti-mug Prime over there.”

And Waverly may be looking for some peace and quiet, but the last thing Wynonna wants right now is to be alone with her thoughts. There’s also that.

“You know what the Fortress of Solitude is?” Waverly asks and Wynonna immediately winces. “Wow, you really have been spending too much time with Jeremy.”

Waverly giggles, and despite Wynonna’s mortification, she’s glad to see the small spark of joy in her sister’s eyes, no matter how fleeting.

“Right?” Wynonna gasps, feigning disgust. “I’d much rather drive around with Haught Sauce and heckle the townsfolk than have to learn one more thing about a comic book character today.” She spins Peacemaker around her finger ominously, surprising even herself when she doesn’t fuck it up this time like she usually does.

“I doubt Nicole will let you get away with much heckling.” She watches Wynonna fumble with Peacemaker for a minute and then drops her hands to her hips. “Although…” she starts, her head cocking slightly. “Maybe a little ‘quality time’ would do you some good. Might even be better than the get-along-shirt I ought to make you two idiots wear after all of the trouble you caused the other day.”

Wynonna opens her mouth to launch some snarky retort, but Waverly holds a hand up to stop her and Wynonna’s mouth snaps shut on its own before she even realizes it.

“I’ve already heard every excuse under the sun from both of you. I’m not in the mood for reruns.” Wynonna grumbles and shoves Peacemaker back in her holster, but refrains from arguing. “Good. I’ll text Nicole to pick you up out front.”

With that, she finishes gathering up her things and breezes past Wynonna, pausing in the doorway only long enough to tell her to have a good time and to behave.

Wynonna stands alone in the BBD office, silently wondering when she became the child to Waverly’s mom friend instincts, but then she hears Jeremy’s cheerful chattering coming down the hall and she decides to hightail it before she gets cornered by another one of his science-fiction lectures.

Grabbing a donut from the box Waverly had left on the table earlier, she stuffs the entire thing in her mouth in one go and rushes out of the station.

Still brushing the litany of crumbs away from her shirt and jacket while standing on the front sidewalk, she doesn’t notice the cruiser pull up to the curb. When Nicole chirps the siren right behind her, Wynonna trips over her own feet, nearly doing a header right off the sidewalk and into the street.

She can hear Nicole’s laughter, even through the rolled-up windows of her patrol car. She flips Nicole off as she stumbles closer to the car, so Nicole proceeds to chirp the siren at her again.

“Fuck you, Haught!” Wynonna curses through her remaining mouthful of donut as she wrenches open the passenger door, drawing a smug sort of satisfaction from the appalled look on Nicole’s face when even more crumbs come flying out of her mouth to litter the front seat.

“Gross, Earp!” Nicole scolds, immediately scooping the crumbs into her hand and depositing them in the little trash compartment she keeps in her center console.

Wynonna completely ignores her, propping her feet up on the dash.

“Let’s roll, Haughtie.”

“Maybe try talking to her,” Wynonna mocks under her breath when Waverly ends the call.

Wynonna slips her phone back in her pocket and glances over at Nicole.

She hasn’t moved a muscle in at least five minutes, just staring blankly into the open trunk of her patrol car while the climbing harness still hangs from her hips. Wynonna may not always be the most observant person, but she’s not as oblivious as she likes to let everyone think she is. She can see the way Nicole’s entire body is trembling, the carabiners on her rigging jangling softly with the constant movement.

“Maybe try talking to her,” Wynonna mumbles again, kicking a rock and watching it skid off in the opposite direction. “What the fuck do I know about this kind of trauma,” she grumbles as she finally takes a step in Nicole’s direction.

A lot more than you might think.

Wynonna rolls her eyes at herself as she approaches Nicole.

Okay, that’s a fair point.

She hesitates briefly when Nicole doesn’t seem to notice her, then reaches out to lay a cautious hand on her shoulder. Nicole jumps and spins to face her, hand immediately falling to her sidearm, ready to draw if necessary. Wynonna stumbles back a step, eyes wide. She knew Nicole was a little zoned out, butshe wasn’t expecting that.

“Jesus, Wynonna,” Nicole croaks, trying to catch her breath. “I could have shot you.”

“You could have tried,” Wynonna returns, patting Peacemaker at her hip with a wink, opting for an off-color attempt at humor as she so often does in these situations. It doesn’t land, of course, and Nicole just continues to stare at her blankly. “Okay, okay. Geez. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

“Sorry,” Nicole says, her shoulders sagging a bit. “I was just… just…” She looks back into the trunk of her cruiser, then down at the climbing gear still dangling from her waist, then back up at Wynonna with a frown. “Fuck,” she sighs. “I don’t even know what I was doing. Sorry,” she mumbles again.

Wynonna wonders again how the person with the worst interpersonal skills ended up in this position.

Dolls. Dolls was always good at calming me down when I was freaking the fuck out. What would he do to help Nicole right now?

“Take a deep breath, Haughtstuff,” she tries, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder again. “Let’s start by getting you out of that harness.”

Nicole looks down at it again, but makes no move to start unbuckling it, her hands still hanging uselessly at her sides.

“That’s what she said… HA!” Wynonna holds out her hand for a high five,proud of her joke, but still gets no reaction, even after high-fiving herself.

Fuck. That was a terrible Dolls. Focus, Earp.

“Snap out of it, Haught,” Wynonna says more firmly, reaching out to place her hands on both of Nicole’s shoulders this time, looking her square in the eye. “You were a hero today.” She immediately winces. “Dammit… You weren’t supposed to hear me say that part,” she mutters, but straightens her back and raises her chin anyway. “A goddamn hero.”

Much better. Very Dolls-like.

“Now I know I must be losing it,” Nicole finally says, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly as she shakes her head.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” Wynonna says dryly and punches Nicole in the arm, snorting when she grabs it and whines dramatically. “Seriously, though,” she continues, gesturing back at Nicole’s gear. “Finish taking that off so we can relax for a minute, Haughtpants.”

“Yeah…” Nicole turns back toward the trunk, staring into it again for a few more seconds before finally starting to unbuckle the harness. “Yeah, I should do that.”

Wynonna leans against the back bumper, watching Nicole step out of the harness and begin to pack away the rest of her climbing gear. She nods to herself, and for the briefest of moments, she could swear she sees Dolls smiling at her from over Nicole’s shoulder. But when she blinks, he’s gone again, and all that’s left is a strange whisper on the wind.

Proud of you, Earp.

“So this is what you do all day? Just drive around town and jiggle a bunch ofdoor handles?”

Nicole completely ignores Wynonna, not even taking her eyes off the road long enough to glance in her direction.

“Because I can think of some things that are a lot more fun to jiggle,” Wynonna says with a wicked smirk, leaning far enough over the console to nudge Nicole in the ribs. “We could always go and visit Pussy Willows again, like we did that one time. Maybe one of the girls could pull that rod out of your ass for you.”

Nicole’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, and Wynonna can see the muscles flexing in her jaw. She immediately wishes she could kick herself.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” Nicole cuts her off, voice tight.

The massacre.

The massacre that had brought the Cult of Bulshar to the forefront of their investigation.

The massacre that dredged up traumatic memories Nicole had locked away for twenty years.

The massacre that, according to Waverly, had conjured nightmares that haunted Nicole nearly every night since.

That massacre.

Wynonna doesn’t even think Pussy Willows has re-opened in the two and a half months since it happened. But here she had gone and dragged it all up again, just for a cheap laugh.

God, I’m such a fuckhead sometimes. Looks like Doc’s assholery is contagious.

Doc.

There’s another subject she doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. She’s batting a thousand today, it would seem. Desperate for any change of subject she can come up with, Wynonna backtracks to the last relatively safe thing she said.

“So these door checks…” Wynonna mumbles, plucking nervously at a string that hangs from the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans. “You have to do the same ones over and over again?”

“It’s important work, Wynonna,” Nicole says defensively.

Wynonna recognizes the look on her face as the one she makes when she’s preparing herself to be made fun of. A pang of guilt stabs at Wynonna’s gut when she realizes just how often she must badmouth Nicole and the way she does her job. It’s not fair and she knows it, but sometimes she just can’t help herself. It’s like a compulsion.

“I know,” Wynonna agrees, still trying to smooth things over.

“You do?” Nicole obviously wasn’t expecting that kind of response. Wynonna glances up to find Nicole looking at her while they’re stopped at a stop sign, eyebrow raised as though she’s expecting there to be more to it than that.

“I mean… I think I know,” Wynonna falters. She frowns as she continues to pick at the string on her jeans. “Okay, actually I don’t know,” she finally admits. Nicole’s face falls, resigning herself to whatever jab is about to come next. “Butyou could explain it to me,” Wynonna continues. “Or whatever,” she adds at the end with a wave of her hand, still trying to play it cool like she always does.

Nicole is silent for a long moment, and Wynonna considers just climbing out of the car while it’s not moving and starting the long walk back to the station by herself. Surely she can’t fuck that up as much as she’s fucking this up right now.

“You’re really asking?” Nicole finally ventures, and the skepticism is etched deeply on her face, but Wynonna thinks she catches a glimpse of something else in her eyes.

“Nevermind,” Wynonna sighs, deflating a little. She’s not getting anything right today. “You don’t have t–”

“No, it’s okay.” Nicole reaches into the center console and withdraws a metalclipboard. “I don’t mind,” she says, handing it over to Wynonna before pulling away from the stop sign and turning at the intersection.

Excitement. That’s what Wynonna had seen rippling beneath Nicole’s skepticism. And maybe even a little hope.

God, she really does love this job.

“What’s this?” Wynonna asks, looking over the pages of checklists on the clipboard.

“That’s our Daily Patrol Log,” Nicole explains as she continues driving to the next location on the list. “I sat down with several of the local business owners last year when Nedley first started giving me more leeway and responsibilities. We worked out a schedule of rotating patrols for their establishments to help with the new visibility directive I was writing, and also to encourage better preventativepolicing.”

“So you really do just… drive around and jiggle their door handles every day?” Wynonna asks after staring at Nicole for a long moment with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s more than that, Wynonna.” Nicole rolls her eyes, but continues explaining, her tone much gentler now. “Increasing our visibility in these areas helps make both the owners and the customers feel safer. We do a rotating schedule during the day shifts, which mostly just consists of driving by, or checking the locks on the back doors and storage areas – jiggling the handles, as you put it – so that we don’t interrupt their normal business. People get used to seeing us around, even in the background, and that makes it less likely for a bunch of shitheads to show up and cause trouble.”

She glances over to see if Wynonna is actually paying attention or if she’s already being ignored. To her surprise, Wynonna is still watching her intently.

“And for the night shift, we check every business on every shift – so long as time allows; sometimes we’re too busy with active calls and have to just do spot checks when we can – but we still try to do them in different orders so that no one can pinpoint exactly when we’ll be there.” They pull into the back parking lot of the Crown Surplus, and Nicole shifts in her seat to face Wynonna. “The night checks are a little more involved. We get out and walk the perimeter. Check all of the doors and windows. Make sure the alarms are engaged. Clear out any jackholes that are drinking on the premises. Things like that.”

“And this…” Wynonna gestures first at the clipboard in her hand, and then out the window at the building they’re parked behind. “It actually works?”

“Some. It’s just…” She tilts her head to the side and Wynonna watches as she searches for the right words. “I mean, Purgatory is a dangerous place, evenwhen these people want to bury their heads in the sand about what’s going on. And if I… If I can get them to trust us, even just a little bit more than they used to, then at least they’re more likely to come to us – to me – if some weird shit starts happening. You know? Like if they have someone that they think might actually believe them instead of just telling them they’re crazy…”

Nicole sighs and turns to stare out the window, the sudden silence in the car covering them like a thick blanket until it’s almost smothering.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, still looking out the window. “Maybe it’s stupid. Just wishful thinking on my part.”

“It’s not,” Wynonna says immediately, reaching out to lay a hand on Nicole’s forearm. She turns back to look at Wynonna, clearly surprised by the gesture. “It’s not stupid.”

“It’s not?” Nicole doesn’t sound convinced.

“No. It’s important,” Wynonna says quietly, squeezing Nicole’s arm gently. “What you’re doing for these people. Whether they recognize it or not.”

It’s in that moment that Wynonna realizes she’s talking about herself, too, and clears her throat uncomfortably as she jerks her hand back away from Nicole’s arm.

“You came up with all of this on your own?” she asks, settling back into her seat and plucking at the string on her jeans again. She smirks to herself when she sees Nicole’s face immediately begin to flush.

Some things never change.

“Yeah, I uh…” Nicole mumbles, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I guess I did. I ran it all by Nedley after I’d written it up, before I met with the business owners. But, umm…” She gives a dismissive half-shrug. “I guess I just wanted to help any way I could.”

Wynonna doesn’t say anything, but she does give a slight nod that causes Nicole to duck her head shyly. They sit in an awkward silence for a long moment before Wynonna hands the clipboard back to Nicole.

“So I guess we gotta g–”

“Haught,” Ruthie’s voice interrupts as the radio crackles to life between them. “Got Ranger Jett on the line for you. Sounds urgent.”

“10-4, Ruthie,” Nicole answers after grabbing the console mic. “Go ahead and patch him through.”

“10-4”

There’s a short beep followed by a series of clicks before a new voice comes through, slightly staticky from the relayed connection.

“Hello? Sheriff Haught?”

“Hey, Robin. Not officially the Sheriff yet,” Nicole says with a slight grin, “but what’s up?”

“It’s a little girl, Sheriff,” he continues, ignoring Nicole’s playful comment. “She’smissing.”

“I can’t, Wynonna. I’m still on shift.”

“Technically, your shift ended two hours ago.” Nicole eyes her carefully, and Wynonna shrugs. “Just sayin’.” She gives the silver flask a jiggle where she’s still holding it out between them.

She had done her best to channel Dolls earlier when she’d needed to snap Nicole out of her stupor. But recognizing the haunted look in her eyes now, Wynonna decides it’s time for some good old-fashioned Earp tactics.

Whiskey.

It’s never let her down before.

Okay, maybe it has… but who’s counting? That’s not important at the moment. What’s important is that Nicole is warring with a darkness right now, and sometimes you just need a little fire in your belly to hold it at bay for a little whilelonger.

Or at least until Waverly can get here and fix things the right way.

She watches the gears turn in Nicole’s head, like she’s weighing a heavy decision, and is more than a little surprised when Nicole reaches out to take the flask from her. She raises an eyebrow, but Nicole levels a look at her that practically dares her to say something about it when she raises the flask to her lips and downs several large gulps without so much as flinching.

“Well, alright then.” Wynonna takes the flask when Nicole hands it back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It’s more than half empty. Wynonna gives Nicole an impressed look, raising the flask in a mock toast. “Cheers, Haughtshot,” she says before downing the rest of it.

No way she’s gonna let an Earp be outdone when it comes to drinking. Especially not by Five-O. Though, to be completely fair, Wynonna has always been impressed with Nicole’s constitution. It takes a lot to get her drunk, and even then, she still continues to hold her own. She’s proven that over and over again.

Drinking whiskey that night at the station a year and a half ago, back when times were simpler. Nicole had matched her swig for swig, but the minute they’d gotten sucked into an actual case down in the morgue, she’d sobered up instantly. That’s not easy to do, and Wynonna knows it.

Just a handful of months later, covering for Wynonna while staking out Jonas by drinking for both of them just to keep the baby safe. She’d definitely gotten drunker that time around, but no so much so that she couldn’t still shoot out a fuse box from across the room with a .380 Walther PPK she’d pulled out of her sock, and that’s saying something, given their long history of questionable accuracy.

And just a couple of days ago in that Revenant bar. Nicole had been drunk off her ass by the end of that disaster, but even though she would never admit it out loud, Wynonna knows that Nicole is the one that technically won that drinking contest fair and square. The Revenant had lost when he’d hurled everything back up. And Wynonna… Well, Wynonna had been cheating the entire time. And that leaves Nicole. Who matched Wynonna and the Rev drink for drink, kept all of it down, and then, even though she was unsteady on her feet, she still managed to help Wynonna kick some ass in the woods.

If there’s one thing Wynonna can respect, it’s the ability to hold your liquor. And Nicole keeps proving over and over that she can match pace with an Earp. So that’s pretty solid in Wynonna’s book.

She looks back at Nicole, whose cheeks are now flushed from the healthy dose of whiskey. Tucking the empty flask back into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, she climbs up onto the trunk of Nicole’s cruiser. Nicole starts to balk, but Wynonna ignores her, patting the space beside her.

“C’mon, Haught. We got a little time before your unicorn gets here. Take a load off.”

“Waverly’s coming?” That’s the first sign of hope she’s seen in Nicole since they originally got the call from Robin.

“She’s already on her way.”

Nicole lets out a weary sigh, but climbs up next to Wynonna without protest, leaning back on her hands as her feet find purchase on the bumper. She looks up at the moon, already visible in the dimming twilight, and Wynonna can see the deep worry lines etched across her brow and at her mouth. For a fleeting moment, she looks far older than her twenty-seven years would suggest.

Wynonna knows a little bit about that. She’s twenty-eight now, but sometimes she feels like she’s already been dragged through a hundred lifetimes full of griefand guilt and loss.

“Hey, it’s okay to relax for a minute.” She reaches over and pats Nicole’s knee. “Today was a win, Nicole.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, before whispering something so softly that Wynonna can barely make it out over the rustling leaves in the nearby trees.

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell in this town.”

Ain’t that the goddamn truth.

“We’ve been out here for hours, Nicole. Maybe we sho–”

“We’re not giving up, Wynonna!”

Nicole stomps off through the trees, and Wynonna lets her go.

It’s suspicious that another kid has already gone missing in the woods again, especially so soon after what they went through with the missing kids on Christmas just barely a week ago. She and Charlie had tracked them down andwiped out one of Bulshar’s evil beekeeper hives, rescuing Robin and severalothers in the process. Surely he hasn’t already rebuilt and started over again…

No, something about this one feels different, she thinks as she watches Nicole search for tracks in the underbrush up ahead, weighed down by far more than just the pack full of gear slung over her shoulders. Her phone buzzes in her pocket before she has time to think any more about that.

Angelpants: Are you still with Nicole? She’s not answering her phone.

Bacon Donut: we’re on a call

Angelpants: Everything okay?

Bacon Donut: little girl missing in the woods

Angelpants: Bulshar???

Bacon Donut: nah peacemaker isn’t giving me any tingly feelings in my pants

Angelpants: WYNONNA

Bacon Donut: i think she just got lost

Bacon Donut: mom lost track of her by the playground whilechasing after toddler

Angelpants: Is Nicole okay?

Bacon Donut: she’s in full sheriff mode right now

Angelpants: You guys need anything?

Bacon Donut: the whole cavalry is out here

Bacon Donut: i think we’re good

Bacon Donut: you just work on that research babygirl

Angelpants: Okay… But keep me posted?

Bacon Donut: 10-4

Angelpants: You really have been spending a lot of time with Nicole lately. lol

Bacon Donut: shut it shortstack

Angelpants: Be careful, okay?

Bacon Donut: you got it boss

Wynonna slides her phone back in her pocket and does her best to catch up to Nicole again. Nicole continues to ignore her, and Wynonna approaches cautiously.

“Hey…” She hesitates when Nicole freezes in place, but doesn’t turn around. “Charlie has the entire fire department out here, and Robin called in all of the other Park Rangers. I wasn’t suggesting that everyone give up, Haught. I was just wondering if we shouldn’t leave it to the Search & Rescue boys, since that’s what they do.”

“I’m Search & Rescue, Wynonna!” Nicole snaps as she finally spins to face Wynonna. She points at one of the patches on the pack she’s carrying. “I got certified in it at the Academy, because I never wanted another little girl to be stuck in the woods by herself with no one to come looking for her.”

Oh.

Wynonna suddenly understands everything.

That explains a lot.

She opens her mouth to say something – anything – but it seems her brain has forgotten how to string two words together right now.

“It’s going to be dark soon, Wynonna,” Nicole continues, much quieter this time. Her eyes are hollow and she’s white as a ghost. Even paler than usual. “It’s going to be dark, and she’ll be out here all alone, cold and scared, and… and…” Nicole swallows hard around the lump that Wynonna can hear is stuck inher throat. “What if it had been Waverly?” she pleads, desperate for Wynonna to stay out here with her.

“Okay,” Wynonna says, finally finding her words again. She reaches out and catches the trembling hand that Nicole’s been waving around. “Okay, Nicole. We’ll keep looking for her.”

They hear the muffled calls of the other groups echoing through the forest as they continue their search. Nicole was right: the sun is beginning to set, and the beautiful colors painted across the sky bring a sharper chill in the air with them. They’re running out of time.

Wynonna suddenly feels an odd weightless sensation, and then her stomach is in her throat as she starts to tumble forward. Before she connects with anything, though, she’s being yanked backward by her collar, until she’s lying on her back,staring up at the trees.

One red-headed tree in particular.

“You’ve gotta watch where you’re going, Earp,” Nicole says sternly, hands on her hips as she looks down at Wynonna. “I don’t have time to be saving your ass,too.”

“Thanks, Haught,” Wynonna manages to croak. “I didn’t even se–”

“Shhhhh…” Nicole whispers harshly. “Did you hear that?”

Wynonna frowns, straining her ears in the eerie silence of the forest around them. Just as she’s about to accuse Nicole of losing her mind, she hears it, too. It’s faint, almost as though they’d imagined it, but it’s there.

“Hello…? Is somebody there?”

Nicole trembles slightly as she pulls Wynonna up from the ground.

“This is the Sheriff’s Department!” she yells, loudly enough to make Wynonna wince. “Call out if you can hear me!”

They both wait, staring at each other with wide eyes.

“HELP! WE’RE DOWN HERE! HELP, PLEASE!”

“We?” they mouth in unison, still frozen in place for half a second longer.

“Don’t move! We’re on our way!” Nicole finally yells back as she turns and sprints in the direction of the voice, along the edge of the ridge that Wynonna had nearly tumbled over.

Wynonna does her best to keep up with Nicole in the waning light, struggling to stay upright in the wake of the sure-footed Sheriff. It’s painfully obvious that Nicole is far more comfortable in this terrain than Wynonna will ever be.

They finally begin to slow their approach when they start to hear barking mixed in with the small voice. That must be the ‘we’ the little girl was referring to.

“We’re almost there, Ashley!” Nicole calls out again as she begins looking around the new area. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“I fell,” the little girl cries in response. “I can’t move my leg!” Her answer is accompanied by another round of barks and frantic whines. “And Hugo’sdown here, too,” she adds.

Nicole drops to her belly in the dirt and the leaves and creeps closer to the stony ledge. Wynonna crouches and carefully peers over Nicole’s shoulder to find asheer rock face, wrought with stray branches and roots and moss-covered rockssticking out at odd angles. Wynonna knows from experience now just how easy it would be to miss a step if you weren’t looking and suddenly find yourself twenty feet below with nowhere to go.

There, in a muddy patch of snow and leaves tucked away in the shadows below the ledge, they can see a puffy pink coat with a matching set of snow boots – one leg sticking out at an odd angle – and a large dog wrapped around a shivering body.

“Hi, Ashley. I’m Officer Nicole.”

“Hi, Nicole,” Ashley answers weakly.

“Don’t move,” Nicole says again, gentler this time. “I’m coming down to get you, okay?”

“Okay,” the little girl sniffles. “Hurry. I’m sca– I mean, I think Hugo is scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Hugo,” Nicole says, nodding seriously at the dog. “Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Hugo barks once – a muted sort of woof – and Ashley clutches a little tighter at his fur.

“He says he’ll try to be brave.”

“That’s very good, Ashley.” Nicole pushes up onto her hands and knees. “You and Hugo just need to be brave a little longer while I get my rope ready, and then I’ll be down to get you, okay?”

“Okay…”

“You can talk to my friend Wynonna here while I’m working.” Nicole nudges Wynonna a little closer to the edge, despite the what the fuck look she levels in Nicole’s direction. “Just talk to her, Wynonna,” Nicole says so that only Wynonna can hear her. “So she knows we’re still here and she’s not alone anymore.”

“Uh… hi,” Wynonna says awkwardly, sticking her head over the ledge and waving. She turns to see Nicole unpacking her gear, ratcheting one end of her rope to a nearby tree that looks sturdy enough to serve as an anchor. “I’m Wynonna…”

“Duh,” Ashley says, giggling a little in spite of herself. “Officer Nicole already said that.”

“Officer Nicole says a lot of things,” Wynonna grumbles loudly, sticking her tongue out dramatically at Nicole behind her back. Ashley giggles again, and Hugo thumps his tail against the leaves. “My little sister would love that pink coat of yours,” Wynonna adds after a moment, unsure of what else to say.

“You have a little sister?”

“Uh huh. Her name is Waverly.”

“Walervy?”

“Eh… Close enough, kid,” Wynonna snorts. “She loves pink stuff and rainbows and unicorns.”

“I have a unicorn!” There’s less sniffling in Ashley’s voice now, replaced by excitement instead.

“So does my sister!” Wynonna laughs, especially when hearing Nicole groan behind her.

“His name is Sparkle!”

“His name… is Sparkle…” Wynonna can barely contain herself. “That’s–”

“Wynonna,” Nicole hisses quietly. “Be nice.”

“–a great name!” Wynonna finishes.

“What did your sister name her unicorn?” Ashley calls up again after a moment.

“Officer Nicole,” Wynonna giggles, and then yelps when Nicole kicks her right in the ass with her muddy boot.

“What?” Ashley asks, confused.

“Ummm... I said Tootsie Roll!” Wynonna calls back a little louder this time, still trying to stifle a giggle.

“Like the candy?”

“Yep,” Wynonna answers, popping the p loudly. “Just like that.”

“That’s kinda weird…” Ashley says, thinking about it for a moment. “But I like it!”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought, too,” Wynonna says, glancing back over her shoulder and catching the hint of a smile on Nicole’s face, just barely hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

“Okay, Ashley,” Nicole says, stepping back up to the ledge. “I’m coming down to get you now. All I need you to do is just stay still, okay? Don’t try to move until Iget there.”

“Okay,” Ashley answers, sounding nervous again.

“You need to hang on to this for me,” Nicole tells Wynonna, handing her a portion of the rope after making sure it’s secured through her climbing harness. “Getting down there shouldn’t be too difficult, but I’ll need your help when I’m climbing back up with her.”

“What?” Wynonna balks, trying to back away. “I don’t know anything about this shit. What if I fuck it up?” She can’t handle this kind of responsibility right now.

“Wynonna, focus,” Nicole says sharply, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Look.” She points over to the tree. “I’m rigged up to a pulley system. All I need you to do is keep this part tight. When I create slack from climbing, just keep pulling it tight, okay? It will keep me from falling backward if I lose my footing with her inmy arms.”

Wynonna doesn’t understand how any of this climbing shit works, but she thinks she can manage at least that much.

“Okay,” she finally says, still a little unsure. “Hey, wait…” she adds when Nicole starts to back up toward the ledge. “Do you have our coordinates or whatever? I was just gonna shoot of a quick text to Charlie with our location so he can send some of the EMS boys this way.”

Nicole pulls out her phone and frowns at the missed calls and texts from Waverly.

“It’s okay,” Wynonna says quickly when she sees Nicole’s face. “I texted her a while ago to let her know we were on a call.”

“Thanks…” Nicole says softly. “I didn’t mean to ignore her. I just…”

“Had a lot on your mind?”

“Yeah,” Nicole answers sheepishly, and then clears her throat a couple of times. “Here’s the coordinates,” she says, handing Wynonna her phone with the GPS app open.

“Okay, got it,” Wynonna says after typing a few things into a text message. “Now go and save the day, Sheriff,” she says, warmly and with no hint of sarcasm, as she hands Nicole’s phone back to her.

Nicole rappels down the rock face with ease, and Wynonna watches as she pulls out the emergency med kit from her pack and places a cervical collar around Ashley’s neck to stabilize her c-spine. It’s not ideal to be moving someone like this without a full backboard, but sometimes the circumstances of these search and rescue situations don’t always provide the best conditions. At least she’d been sitting up the entire time she’d been talking to them. That has to count for something. Hopefully.

After placing a makeshift splint on Ashley’s leg, Nicole begins to prepare her for transport. She carefully works another harness up over Ashley’s legs and hips, and then secures it to her own with another short section of rope and somecarabiners. Then she slips Ashley’s hands through a set of loops that almost look like handcuffs made of rope, explaining that they will help her hold on to Nicole while she’s climbing back up.

Ducking her head to put it through Ashley’s arms so they’re around her neck, Nicole scoops her up and holds her close as she moves back to the rocks and slowly begins her ascent. Wynonna is diligent in keeping the slack out of the rope, digging her heels into the soft earth to help her hold her ground. It’s much slower going, and they’re nearly out of light now, but soon enough, Nicole’s head pops up over the ledge and Wynonna kneels down to take Ashley from her and get her back on solid ground.

“Can you tell us what happened, Ashley?” Nicole asks as she takes off her jacket and drapes it around Ashley’s shoulders. Wynonna is immediately reminded of the photo she’d recently seen of a young Nicole wearing Nedley’s coat on the morning he’d found her downstream from the massacre.

“We were playing in the park with Mama and Matthew,” Ashley starts, sniffling again. “Matthew kept tryin’a run away, and Mama had to chase after him. But then Hugo saw a squirrel and tried to catch it and we just kept runnin’ and then we were in the woods and there were so many trees and we got lost and then I fell and… and…” Anything else she wanted to say gets lost in the heaving sob that wracks her entire body.

“Shhh… It’s okay,” Nicole soothes, wrapping her arms around the little girl. She tucks her face securely into Nicole’s shoulder, and Nicole strokes her hair gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“What about Hugo,” Ashley eventually hiccups, once she’s caught her breath again. “You can’t just leave him down there!”

Wynonna and Nicole peer over the ledge, watching Hugo prance and pace along the edge of the rock face, whining and searching for his human.

“Okay,” Nicole says after a brief moment of deliberation. “You stay here with Wynonna, and I’ll go and get Hugo.”

“How in the fu– …the f–” Wynonna’s eyes slide over toward Ashley. “The eff are you gonna do that?”

“Ummm…” Nicole thinks for a moment, looking at everything that’s spread out in front of her. “I think I have an idea.” She dumps everything out of her pack, until it’s completely empty, and holds it up. She eyes it for a minute, and then shrugs at Wynonna. “Hopefully this will work…”

“Oh, my god,” Wynonna groans, resting her head in her hand. She knows exactly what Nicole is going to do.

Nicole slings the empty pack back over her shoulders and starts toward the ledge again, but pauses when Ashley reaches out and takes her face in her little hands.

“Officer Nicole,” she says very seriously. “You have to be very careful with him. Mama says he’s an old man now.”

“I’ll be very careful with him,” Nicole answers, her voice cracking a little. “I promise.”

Wynonna definitely doesn’t have a lump in her throat. Nope. Absolutely not.

They begin the process all over again, and Nicole sits with Hugo for a few minutes at the bottom so that he’ll calm down and hopefully trust her enough for what needs to happen next. After a bit of coaxing and a couple of false starts, she finally manages to get the aging German shepherd into her giant backpack, with just his head sticking out so that he can watch over her shoulder. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased about this development, but he lets her secure the zipper and lock it in place so he can’t fall out on the way back up. It will have to do.

She hoists the pack back up onto her shoulders and starts climbing the wall again, Wynonna dutifully working her end of the rope. It doesn’t take quite as long as it did when Nicole was bringing Ashley up since she has the use of both arms, but Wynonna can tell she’s feeling pretty exhausted by the time she reaches the top.

Thankfully, Charlie and the boys have arrived by then, already tending to Ashley while Nicole frees Hugo from his port-a-puppy status. He barks a few times and then runs in an impressive amount of circles before finally jumping up on the back of the ATV and settling in next to Ashley, refusing to leave her side again.

They all set out back toward the trailhead where Ashley’s family is waiting for them, leaving Wynonna and Nicole standing alone in the silence of the dusk-covered woods.

“That was some Haught shit back there, Officer Nicole,” Wynonna says after a few minutes. She pats Nicole on the back when she gets no response.

Nicole says nothing, merely swaying on her feet until she has to reach out and lean against one of the nearby trees for support.

Then she promptly doubles over and vomits all over her boots.

“Okay, even I didn’t see that coming…” Wynonna says, unsure of how to react.

Nicole still doesn’t say anything, heaving three more times before she’s apparently emptied her entire stomach out into the muddy snow. When she finally stands back up, Wynonna takes her by the elbow and starts leading her back the way they came.

“Alright, Red. Let’s get you back to the land of the living.”

“Maybe try talking to her.”

Waverly’s voice is still bouncing around in Wynonna’s head as she watches Nicole stare out into the darkness, shivering slightly despite having her jacket back after Charlie had replaced it with a proper blanket. She reaches out and places a hand on Nicole’s knee.

“I shouldn’t have called you ‘Deputy Dipshit’ the other day.” Nicole immediately stiffens beside Wynonna. That definitely touched a nerve. She curses herself and starts to change the subject, but she sees Waverly glaring at her with her arms crossed, telling her to talk to her about it, so instead, she pushes on. “I was only fucking with you,” she hastens to justify, “but I still shouldn’t have gonethere. It was a shitty thing to say, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Maybe I did,” Nicole sighs, visibly deflating. “Seems like everyone has that opinion these days.”

“I don’t,” Wynonna says immediately. “Nedley doesn’t.”

“Right,” Nicole scoffs. “You drag my ass about my job every chance you get. And Bunny Loblaw…” Nicole swallows had and looks away again.

“Bunny Nut Cheerios can choke on her pearls, for all I care,” Wynonna seethes. “And me…” Wynonna starts, a little more sheepishly. “Well, since when do you listen to a word I say, anyway?”

Nicole just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, look. You know I don’t have the best track record with cops. Even Nedley, from before I came back. But you’re…” Wynonna waves her hand around awkwardly. “…Different.”

“Different,” Nicole repeats in a deadpan voice.

“Yes. Different, okay?” Wynonna kicks her foot on the bumper of the cruiser while she tries to figure out what to say next. “Like. Even before you kneweverything, you still tried to look out for me and my sister. And then you took a bullet for her. And you believe me when I tell you something’s important, even if I can’t always explain it right then. And… and you didn’t just automatically assume I was crazy and needed to be locked up again.”

That last part comes out much quieter than the rest of it. Nicole turns to fully face Wynonna and opens her mouth to respond, but Wynonna holds up a hand to stop her.

“I’m not very good at this shit, but I’m trying to say something important here. Let me get it out.” Nicole just nods silently, and Wynonna continues. “And then my sister fell for you, and that scared me. Because I thought you were just going to take her away from me. But you didn’t, and you stayed, and she stayed, and… You tell me you love her, and then you told me you love me, too, and… and…” Wynonna sighs and buries her head in her hands. “Look, I’m just sayin’,” she says, popping her head back up again. “I know we made up and called a truce the other night back at the station, but I still shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t deserve it, okay?”

“Okay…”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Nicole is apparently willing to just let it go for now. Thankfully.

“What if I can’t do this, Wynonna?” Nicole asks instead after a few moments of silence. “What if I’m not cut out to be the Sheriff?”

“No way,” Wynonna snorts. “That’s not possible.” Nicole shrugs a little helplessly at her. “Listen, Haughtdog. Nedley has been talking about you non-stop since you started working for him a year and a half ago. That man believes in you more than he believes in Willie Nelson. And I told him a month ago – before any of this other shit started happening – that you were ready to take his place whenever he was ready to let you. That you had the kind of fight in you that this town needs right now.”

“You… you did?” Nicole seems genuinely surprised by this.

“I did,” Wynonna nods. “And I know for a fact that you heard every word I said to ol’ Bun Bun after we finished saving her ass. Naughty Haughty and your eavesdropping.” Wynonna gives an approving waggle of her eyebrows and Nicole shoves her playfully in the shoulder. “But the truth is, Nicole… You’re the best goddamn cop this town has ever seen. Nedley is a good man, and he’s done the best he can with trying to balance the protection and the cover-up for the past thirty years. But you’re… Well, like I said. You’re different. You’ve got your eyes wide open going into this, and you’re everything this godforsaken town needs right now.”

Nicole stares down at her hands, suddenly very interested in the stitching on her gloves.

“I mean, look at how much of a difference you’ve already made just with something as simple as your handle-jiggling thingy. The people trust you. They’re glad to see you coming, and that’s important in a town like this.”

“Maybe so…” Nicole glances back up at Wynonna. “Thanks, Earp.”

“For what?” Wynonna asks pointedly. “If you ever tell a living soul I said any ofthat, I’ll deny it to my grave.”

Nicole snorts and shakes her head.

“Fair enough.”

“Now, uh…” Wynonna wipes the palms of her hands nervously on her jeans. Her head is screaming at her to just leave it at that, counting this conversation as a win. But her heart remembers the way Nicole had looked in the woods, and how haunted she’d been when they’d gotten back to the parking lot of theTrailhead. She feels Waverly coaxing her to continue. “Do you, uh… want to talk about what’s really bothering you?”

Nicole instantly shrinks back into herself, looking back up at the darkened sky. Wynonna could kick herself for being such a bull in the china closet, but she’s really trying here. That’s got to count for something.

“How much do you remember from that night?” she asks tentatively.

“Not a lot,” Nicole mumbles. “Just flashes. That asshole in black leather. Screams. Blood. Floating in the canoe. Freezing so badly I thought I was turning to ice.”

“That… sounds like a lot to me,” Wynonna says. “And the little girl today?”

“I knew how scared she would be. Alone. In the dark. In these woods…” A tear trickles down Nicole’s cheek. “It put me right back there again.” She wipes discreetly at her face, and Wynonna chooses not to say anything about it.

“Waverly said you’ve been having nightmares about it?”

“She told you about that?” Nicole tries to sound mad, but Wynonna recognizes the truth in her voice: embarrassment and shame.

“She tells me a lot of things,” Wynonna says gently. “Do you… want to talk about them?”

“What would you know about it?” Nicole huffs angrily, instantly starting to throw up a wall between them. Wynonna isn’t having any of it. Not this time.

“About what, Nicole?” She cuts in firmly. “About something so traumatic from your childhood that it still haunts you twenty years later? About darkness and death that twists you up so badly you end up in the loony bin for it? About closing your eyes and seeing every person that’s ever died because you failed them etched across your eyelids until you can’t tell what’s real in the moment and what’s only a memory in a dream?”

Nicole stares at Wynonna, wide-eyed and mouth gaping open. Wynonna just sits patiently, waiting for Nicole to process everything she just said.

It takes a minute.

“S-sorry…” Nicole eventually stutters. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t… I… S-sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize, Nicole.” Wynonna reaches out and takes one of Nicole’s hands. “I was just trying to point out that maybe I get it a little more than you might think. If you ever… you know…” She lets go of Nicole’s hand and waves it awkwardly in the air. “…Needed someone. To talk to, I mean.”

“Waverly’s so good. She’s always there for me through the nightmares.” Nicole sighs, looking back down at her hands. “But sometimes I feel like I’mdrowning in it. Like I’m going to drown both of us, and I can’t even see what it is that’s dragging me under.” She wipes at her face again, more openly this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” Wynonna admits. “Why do you think I left for so long?”

“I’m not going to leave her, Wynonna!” Nicole says sharply, sitting up straight again with her brow furrowed.

“I know,” Wynonna defends, throwing her hands up between them. “I know. That’s not what I meant. It’s… I just… You’re a lot stronger than me, Haught. I was too weak. I had to leave because I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle it myself, and I sure as fuck couldn’t hand dragging Waverly down with me.”

“Am I?” Nicole asks quietly.

“Are you what?” Wynonna frowns, confused.

“Dragging her down? Would she be better off without my baggage?” Wynonna doesn’t think she’s ever seen Nicole look so broken before.

“No,” she says firmly. “God, no. You’re the one that’s given that girl wings,Nicole.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nicole sniffles, smiling slightly despite herself. “Seems like this Julian dude probably had more to do with that than me.”

Wynonna can’t help but snort.

“Can’t believe Mama bagged herself a fucking angel.” She barks out a laugh, but then her tone turns darker. “You deserve your angel far more than she ever did.”

This time it’s Nicole that reaches out and takes Wynonna’s hand.

“Hey.” She squeezes gently until Wynonna meets her eye. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? All of us.”

Wynonna searches Nicole’s eyes and finds nothing but genuine compassion there. She wants to say something – feels like she should – but she can’t seem to find the right words, so she just nods her acknowledgement.

Then, as if someone else is controlling her body, she reaches out and wraps her arms around Nicole, pulling her in close. Nicole feels stiff at first, like she’s notsure what’s happening, but then she relaxes into the embrace, reaching aroundto close her own arms around Wynonna’s shoulders.

They stay like that for several long moments, losing track of the number of heartbeats, before Wynonna pulls back again, looking a little flustered with herself.

“What, uh… What was that for?” Nicole asks through a lopsided smile.

Wynonna shrugs as casually as she can manage.

“You just looked like you really needed a hug.”

Just then, a pair of headlights comes sweeping into the parking lot, eventually coming to rest on the trunk of Nicole’s squad car, lighting both of them up in the sudden brightness. The engine cuts out and they’re left with visions of a red jeep swimming behind the sunspots now floating in their eyes.

“Speak of the devil…” Wynonna says, wiping the salty tracks from her own face now. “Or angel, I suppose,” she adds, nudging Nicole in her ribs with her elbow.

They both share a laugh as they hop down from the trunk, wiping their hands on their pants and feeling all of the joints in their body crack as they stretch out their weary limbs. Waverly approaches them slowly, eyebrow raised.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, her tone suspicious.

“Nope,” Wynonna hurries to say. “Not a thing, Babygirl. We’ve just been waiting on you.”

Waverly eyes Nicole, who just nods along innocently.

“Riiiight…”

Before she can say anymore, Nicole has closed the distance between them, sweeping Waverly into her arms. She kisses her deeply, far more than just a quick peck on the lips, before finally pulling back to nuzzle their noses together and eventually letting her forehead rest against Waverly’s.

Wynonna would normally clear her throat or make gagging noises or harass them in some other way, but instead, this time she quietly watches. Really watches.

Watches the way Nicole seems to draw strength from the simple fact that Waverly is near. Watches the way Waverly clutches at Nicole’s jacket, keeping her close and present in the moment and steady. Watches them whisper softly to each other and the way Nicole’s body instinctively relaxes at Waverly’s touch. Watches the way they both seem to be trying to protect each other at the same time.

She’d meant it before when she admitted to Nicole that she was scared when Waverly fell in love with her. Scared that Nicole would take her away. That Waverly would leave her. But as she watches them now, she doesn’t feel scared anymore. They were made for each other. They deserve each other. And there’s no way she can be jealous of that. She couldn’t ask for anyone betterto be taking care of her baby sister, and for all of the blustery sarcasm shethrows Nicole’s way, she’s also glad that she has someone like Waverly to takecare of her, too.

There’s been a lot of reevaluating lately. About what family truly means. Is it just about blood? Are they destined to be bound to those who are related to them simply because they share some common DNA? All Wynonna’s blood brings is a curse of failure and leaving and death. Generations of Earps had fallen to forces outside their control. Daddy and Willa had betrayed their family. Mama had bailed… twice. Is that really what Wynonna wants her family to be?

And what about the family you choose for yourself? She’s not doing much better in that department, either. She had to kill Shorty with her own two hands. Dollsleft her to all of this alone, even though it wasn’t the same way Mama had left. And Doc… Doc had chosen to betray her, to become the very thing they hunted, all because he couldn’t deal with a little manpain.

She has Alice, and will always love her. But god knows when the next time she’ll get to see her will be. If she ever gets to see her again at all. Just another piece of family that’s been ripped away from her.

Maybe some things just aren’t in the cards for the heir to a curse that she never asked for.

But then she looks over at Waverly and Nicole again. Remembers Waverly telling her that she loves her. Remembers Nicole telling her that she kind of loves her, too. Remembers Nicole telling her ‘I got you, Earp,’ and actually meaning it. Remembers Waverly telling her ‘I’m here for you, now and forever,’ and staying with her even though she could have run so many times.

Something clenches in Wynonna’s chest, and she nearly forgets how to breathe. She does have a family. And it’s right here in front of her. Just the three of them against the world. Her sister, and… her sister’s girlfriend? Her… Nicole? Her… best friend. The words feel foreign in her mind. She’s never had a best friend before. Not really. But she looks back over everything she and Nicole have been through, and she thinks maybe… maybe this is what that is supposed to feel like.

Besides. Something tells her that at some point, she’ll eventually have to start calling Nicole her sister, too.

She doesn’t think that would be such a bad thing.

“You okay?” she hears Waverly asking, and she realizes that both Waverly and Nicole staring at her with raised eyebrows.

Fuck. Get your shit together, Earp.

“Uh, yeah…” She clears her throat a couple of times and gives her patented thumbs up. “All good. You guys ready to get out of here?” she asks, hoping to distract them.

“Please,” Nicole answers wearily.

“Grab your bag and toss me your keys, Babygirl. I’ll drive your Jeep home so you can ride with Haughtstuff.”

“You sure?” Waverly asks, her eyes lighting up.

“Of course. Go take care of your girl,” she says, walking over to kiss the side of Waverly’s head as she takes the keys out of her hand.

“Nicole said she’s starving. We were gonna stop by Mama Lou’s.” Waverly’s voice is muffled as she digs through the cab of the Jeep for her bag and her purse. “You wanna join us before you head home?” she asks when her head pops back out again.

Wynonna glances over at Nicole, not wanting to intrude on their time together, but Nicole nods at her with a warm smile.

“Sounds good,” she admits. “I could murder a stack of pancakes.”

“We’ll follow you there,” Nicole says as she watches Waverly settle into the passenger seat of her squad car.

Wynonna nods and turns to climb into the Jeep, but stops when she feels a hand on her arm.

“Wynonna…” Nicole’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times like a fish out of water as she tries to find the words to say. “Thanks,” she finally settles on. “I, uh… I don’t think I could have made it through today without you.”

Wynonna smiles genuinely, no trace of sarcasm or teasing. Then she shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say.

“You’re family, Nicole.”

#prompt fill #my fiction #wayhaught #wynaught brotp #wynonna earp #ask and answer #darienplays6688 #anon #writer asks #writing #mine

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grxsszennie · 5 years

Text

jisung x reader, ready player one au

by: solar ☀️

word count: 1.7k

for context: you’re new to the oasis, and jisung is one of the best players of all time (besides the high five obviously). also (y/a/n) means your avatar name

for more context: if you haven’t seen ready player one, the high five are the main characters (parzival, art3mis, aech, daito, and sho). the oasis is a virtual world where anyone can do whatever they want and be whoever they want.

you had just finished designing your avatar. you looked around at the great, looming quartz-colored towers of the main lobby, and observed all the experienced players walking and talking around you. since you were a noob, you were expecting everyone to ignore you.

you couldn’t hide the fact that you didn’t know where to start. you didn’t know how to earn coins, or get new clothes and items. you were stuck with a basic pistol and a t-shirt and jeans. you decided the best option would be to ask the players around you.

you noticed a man who carried himself with confidence, as if he knew that he was a skilled player, almost. you ran to catch up with him, and tapped him on the shoulder. “excuse me...?” he turned and faced you, studying you with an almost amused expression. “what can i do for you?” he asked mockingly. “i... um... i’m obviously new here and i just wanted to know, where do i start?” he laughed and grabbed you by the wrist.

people whispered among themselves. “is that the vastificus with a noob?” you kind of felt awkward with everyone’s eyes on you. he led you to a dark alleyway, and you gulped. “alright, that’s better. i didn’t want the general public to see me with a newbie, that wouldn’t have been good for my repuation...” he explained, kind of trailing off at the end. “why not? isn’t it good to help a new player out?” you asked innocently.

“this community is kind of against noobs for some reason. i wish i could help people like you more often, but i’m kind of well known, so it doesn’t really work out.” he sighed. you nodded slowly. “but if you join my clan...” a screen appeared in front of him. he pressed a few buttons and a box appeared in front of you. it read “vastificus has invited you to a clan! join?” you tapped yes and he smiled. “i can bring you along with me on an artifact hunt to earn you some coin.” he offered. you smiled and bounced on your heels in excitement.

“you’re definitely a teenage girl,” he said lightheartedly. “but before we do that, we need to bring you to the shop. come with me.” he gave you a cloak of invisibility from his inventory. “give this back to me afterwards.” you put it on and followed him out of the alleyway and into the street. he brought you to a giant marketplace.

soft 80s music played from overhead as the two of you walked around looking at everything in awe. “spend your coin on anything you’d like. i’d recommend one new outfit and one gun.” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him over the music and the other players talking. you quickly found an outfit that fit your avatar’s appearance and started looking around at the weapons. “which weapons are good?” you asked.

“oh, here!” he pointed to a gun. “this one’s on me.” he purchased the gun and handed it to you. you took it in your hand awkwardly and lifted it up and down, getting used to the weight of it. you took off the invisibility cloak and gave it to him. he looked at your new outfit and nodded slowly.

“now come with me.” he opened a portal and stood in front of it. “where are we going?” you asked, becoming a bit nervous. “don’t ask too many questions.” he dragged you into the portal and you were instantly met with the sounds of gunfire and metal hitting the ground. “this is where most of the clan hangs out. it’s called planet doom. there’s jax-“ he pointed to a player fighting three monsters at once. “-and there’s taeyeong.”

you looked at the players he pointed out, and noticed they had green markers over their head. it must mean they’re clan members. “now, if you see a monster, shoot. if you kill it, it will drop coins and they’ll automatically go into your account,” he explained. you nodded and began shooting at monsters.

if they came close to you, you decided it would be a good idea to just kick the shit out of them like a fucking legend. and surprisingly, it worked. vastificus looked at you in surprise. he believed in you, but he didn’t think you’d be this good in your first time on planet doom. you eventually ran out of ammo, so you ran back to him. “oh my god, (y/a/n), that was fucking awesome!” he praised. you smiled. “you really think so?” he smiled back. “yeah! i’ve never seen a newbie fight that well!” a clan member, who was introduced as taeyoung, appeared behind vastificus. “hey, who’s the newbie?” he asked, looking at every detail of your avatar.

“oh, i’m (y/a/n), it’s nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself. “i’ve never heard that name before, you new around here?” he asked. “yeah, this is my first day in the oasis-“ taeyoung gasped. “wow, really?! you looked like sho out there!” you tilted your head in confusion. “you don’t know who that is... okay. he’s a member of the high five, the group that runs the oasis,” he explained. you nodded. “well, i suppose he’s really good then. so thank you!”

vastificus took you by the wrist. “let’s go, i have some more things to show you.”

you woke up every morning eager to do artifact hunts with vastificus and the clan. they became like your second family. they were more supportive of you than you first thought they would be. when vastificus told everyone that you were new, they sent coins, weapons, and other spare items to you. you were getting the hang of everyday life in the oasis, and you were really happy that you had the chance to meet these amazing people.

you were at vastificus’s virtual room, and he had designed it to make it look like the inside of a castle. you listened to him tell a random story about how he almost got mugged by a random furry, when you had a sudden thought. “what’s your name?” you asked.

he shot you a look. “you can never share your real name on here. never.” he snapped. “oh... i-i’m sorry, i didn’t know...” you responded. “it’s alright.” he shook his head. “actually, maybe just this once... but if you mention it around anyone at all i’ll kill you. and you have to tell me yours after.” you quickly nodded. “deal!”

“alright, my name... my name is jisung.” you nodded slowly. you repeated his name in your head. “and mine is (y/n).” he smiled a bit. “t-that’s a p-pretty name,” he stuttered. you were kind of surprised, he didn’t really seem like the awkward type. “thanks,” you replied. “and... a pretty name goes well with a pretty face,” he said, in a voice so small it was almost a whisper.

“huh-? this isn’t how i really look,” you said, shocked. “i-i know, but i bet you’re r-really pretty in the real world.” he looked at the ground. “i’m really sorry about all the personal questions but how old are you? please be honest.” he laughed at your question. “i knew this was coming, i’m seventeen,” he replied. “what, really? me too!”

“if we ever met up, please don’t expect... this.” he gestured at his avatar. “i’m not this. but i’m also not a fat kid who lives in his mom’s basement, so at least i’ve got that going for me,” he joked. “no matter how you look, i bet you’re handsome,” you said. he made a strange noise then immediately took his headset off. his avatar disappeared, leaving you alone in his house.

you teleported to the city, figuring you’d leave him a message for when he saw the screen on his headset. you tapped on his name in your friends list and typed out a quick message. “i really hope you’re in seoul, if so, would you like to meet up?”

he immediately came online after that, and sent you a message back. “of course, where?” you thought for a moment. you sent a location of a coffee shop that’s about a ten-minute walk from your house, just in case he was a creep. you took off your headset, gloves and ankle straps and shoved them into a backpack, then ran out the front door and to the coffee shop.

you opened the door, and a little bell rang. you looked around the shop to see a few people, but you had no idea which one was jisung. a male looked at you awkwardly from across the room, and he had two cups in front of him. you nervously approached him, and you both stared each other down as you took each step closer. “um... are you...?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. you recognized his voice immediately, so you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

you could hear his heart beating so fast, you were wondering how he hasn’t died of a heart attack yet. you let go and pulled the chair across from him out, then sat down. “i didn’t know how you liked your coffee so i just got you the same one i got,” he said.

“i knew you’d be handsome!” he hid his face in his hands and made another strange noise. you pulled one of his hands away to reveal his face, now tinted red. “a-and i knew y-you’d be p-pretty,” he stuttered, his face turning even redder. “oh my god, you’re so cute,” you gushed, pinching his cheek.

“you’re not what i was expecting but in a good way, because online you’re intimidating but in the real world you’re the cutest and softest little-“ he cut you off. “my heart can’t handle this!” he whined. “this is my first time being complimented by a cute girl!” you giggled and twined your fingers with his. “i’m really glad you asked what my name was because i would’ve never had my first kiss,” he said. “wh-“ he cut you off by placing his lips gently against yours.

“we need to keep this a secret, but will you be mine?”

#nct jisung #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #boyfriend jisung #jisung #park jisung #jisung park #jisung fluff #jisung imagines #jisung fanfic #jisung x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct au

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artboitrash · 5 years

Text

His Bloody Rose (Stefano Valentini fanfiction) Chapter 25 - Broken Hearted

Stefano grumbled to himself. He was enraged, completely furious as he wandered through the halls of his world.

"How dare he!" he shouted loudly. "He dare destroy my work!"

He passed the room I now resided in. I drooped my head slightly, hearing him enter as he threw something down on the ground. I looked around, seeing it was the last photo I had taken before the machine had turned on.

I hadn't been successful in stopping the man. I had really tried, really really tried, to stop him. He continuously shot me, and even if I started getting used to the pain, he still caused me to break my concentration. The pain broke up my thoughts, making the frozen machine resume, no matter how many times I stopped it.

Each time I got close, climbed along the wall, struck him with the barbed wire I had been given as a weapon... He continued to shoot me repeatedly.

"Ah... There you are..." Stefano said slowly.

I flinched, lowering my head to him. Even though I knew he wasn't angered with me, his thoughts were so violent that I was worried one wrong move would make him feel worse.

Once the machine, that I now know is called the Stable Field Emitter, rebooted completely, I felt a strange sense of agony surge through my body. It ached and felt like my skin was breaking apart. Just before I thought I would fall to pieces, my surroundings completely changed, and I was once again in Stefano's world. I didn't sense him within, and his gentle, soft voice was completely silent. As I realized what had happened, I felt an overwhelming sense of shame.

I walked around the gallery at first, developing the film I had taken, then hid myself in a darkened room. I didn't want to face him as I had failed the man I love, I had completely disappointed him. After a short while, I felt Stefano enter the world he oversaw and began looking for me. He knew exactly where I was, so he made his way straight to me.

He slid a hand over the side of my camera as he reached my sitting body. He hummed quietly as he thought, seemingly in thought while he was still annoyed.

"I made you to be indestructible..." He sighed. "But I did not expect you would not have the same durable power as me."

He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to the box of my camera. It was almost like he kissed my cheek. He lingered there, as though to say he forgave me.

"I won't hold it against you, this time, my Obscura." He whispered as he withdrew. "Next time, however, I expect you to be able to finish him."

I moved my head once in agreement. His cross look faded, and his anger turned into a sweet smile.

"I do love you, my dear." he muttered, pressing his lips to my frame again. "And I will love you for all eternity... Once we have this world to ourselves, we can turn this into the most wonderful paradise for my work."

I moved my head against him, emitting that small purr I had begun to use. It made him chuckle, and a small gleam crossed his eye. I ached to hold him like I used to, feeling him using his influence to make me feel, it in a way.

"I know, my bella. But some things must be sacrificed for art."

Even that?

He frowned a little. "Yes, even physical affections, my dear."

I nodded a little, hearing the accordion stretching a little. He glanced over the fabric, sliding his fingers into the folds, and realized part of it was torn where I had been shot.

"Dio mio..." I heard him mumble. "(What are we going to do with you...?)"

I realized he had spoken in Italian, but I could understand him. The concept of what he said automatically translated it, surprising me. I nudged against him, feeling a want for his attention.

"Now, now. You don't need to be mournful, my dear. Unfortunately your first work was not finished. We will fix that next time."

He grasped onto one of my hands, helping me stand. My long, large legs extending up and holding my torso steady. His gloved hand slipped from mine, running ever so gently over one of my legs. He had a near passionate look in his eye, glancing into my lens as he took in my body.

"Come, follow me, my love. Let's fix your poor body, it is desperate for some care."

He turned, trailing his fingers from my skin, holding out his left hand slightly as he began walking away. He gestured me to follow him, mentally pushing me to move. I obliged, following him quietly. He led me into a new hallway where he wanted me to stay. He wanted me to watch the area where he held the little girl, to protect her at the very least.

He tended to the wounds the man had given me. "On the better side, I suppose, Theodore has told me the man's name. He is called Sebastian Castellanos. I think he would make a wonderful edition to the series of people who sought the core."

He chuckled, slipping the ribbons off my legs to change them. I hummed in agreement, closing my aperture and watching his imagination unfold. The image of him, a flower of blood bursting through his chest. The amount of blood spurting forth, the life being drained from his skin.

"It is beautiful, no?"

I nodded to him. Yes... Yes. It is so beautiful.

He looked up with a smile. "You have learned perfectly." He reached up and patted my casing.

I hummed quietly as he turned to sewing my skin back together. It was a little uncomfortable, feeling him bind parts of my skin together. What's left of my body was forgetting how to die; I could feel the flesh in a half-way point, wanting to decay yet holding on to life tightly.

He took care of me as time passed, and I took care of the core for him. I stayed by her side following her as she tried to find a way out of the loop she was in, walking along the hallways with as much strength as she had. I'm not sure, but I think his control over her makes her more tired with each passing hour, as she needs to sleep longer and longer.

Time here moves faster, I think. What felt like days began to pass, and I heard Stefano cursing and shouting about something a long time later. He burst into the room I was in, and I lifted my head from off the bed. The little girl - Lily, I think - was sleeping soundly in the bed he and I had shared before my body had changed.

"How dare he!!" He shouted.

I stood up and grabbed his hand, guiding him from the room. He grumbled lowly, but followed me. I pulled him into the hallway, nudging my head against his torso.

"He tore down my art and burned a finished photo!" he shouted angrily.

I held his hand in mine, kneeling down before him. He sat down, grabbing onto my hands, holding onto them too. His eye closed and he breathed deeply, as he had done when he usually got angry.

I could feel he was slightly knocked off his balance. I had been realizing that the longer we stayed here, the worse he's become. He refused that he was in the wrong each time I tried to bring it up to him. It was obvious, to me at least, the longer he had control over this world and how it was presented in its entirety, the more enraged, tired, and mad he continued to become. I wanted to show him he was going to hurt himself. I wanted him to listen to me, but he had begun writing off everything I said.

The logical side of me, as weak as she was, still fought and kicked. She wouldn't let me think he was right. She wouldn't let me love him unconditionally. She screamed and threw a fit inside of me, trying to get me to snap out of this unhealthy relationship.

I swore I would never be involved in a relationship like this! she chanted, over, and over, and over again.

The piece of control he had over me didn't like this side of me, constantly trying to affect me in a way that would kill that piece of the old me left. I wanted it to be simple, like switching off that logistical side of me. But she wouldn't give in.

I think he secretly enjoys it. Knowing that I will do as he says, but still have the part that resists him. I can only imagine how gratifying for him it would be to smother it eventually.

"Come, my dear." Stefano looked up at me, a dark smile staring back at me. "He shall see you next, he will face you, and he will fail. You will prove yourself once again."

I nodded, and he moved us through the world. Once the ground settled, I could see a hallway that lead to a maze of curtains and rooms.

"This is where I shall leave you, my dear." He laughed, his now manic and unkind smile settled on his face. "I'm afraid I do not have anything left for you if he manages to defeat you. I cannot keep you around me if you cannot continue my work."

That part hurt me. My heart hurt, and I felt his influence begin to leave me. I realized just how cruel he really had been to me these past few days I've spent after the man had restarted he emitter. He secluded me, and wouldn't let me near him unless he deemed it. He just kept enough influence over me to keep me loyal to him.

I could feel the pain of my skin now. He let go of me completely, and the searing pain of where my skin had been torn and cut by his hand was apparent. He had been acting as my anesthetic.

He had become tired of me. He still wished for me to succeed, that much I knew. But his care for me beyond being his living sculpture was now exceeded. Whatever he used to feel for me, if he ever really cared, was now faded and gone. Whether it was because of this madness that had begun setting in his mind, or because he just wanted to move onto a project that wasn't rotting before him, it didn't matter. He was going to leave me and let me go regardless of whether or not I managed to kill this man.

I knew that he didn't care anymore about me. He didn't care about Rose anymore. He never called me anything other than "Obscura." Not even when addressing my mind personally, did he ever call me by my name. Just the name he had given me after he changed me.

I watched him turn on his heel, and disappear in the blue smoke he produced when he teleported. I slid to my knees, realizing I had been completely under his control. He tried to get me to kill someone. Someone who really, truly deserved to have that girl over Stefano. The man that had come for her in the town hall was the girl's father. He was her father, and I still stood by Stefano despite that.

I pressed a hand against my tattered and empty stomach, feeling the metal cage underneath supporting my skin. He had said I would make a wonderful mother, trying to care for a child that wasn't mine. If we had even had children, I don't think I would be if he were the father. If I could cry again, I would. But instead, I'm just this abomination now. A camera for a face, and an extra leg made up of several other women's skin. Really, that's all my legs were, the connected and manipulated skin of women who were still partially aware of who they were.

I could understand now. How my fear had disappeared. How my paranoia had disappeared. They hadn't left because I was now a larger, stronger being. They hadn't left at all, he was just suppressing them so I could serve him better.

I heard a sound like metal protesting. I glanced up at the hallway, seeing a barely familiar figure lifting the metal gate that led to the hallway. I turned and began walking into the maze. I didn't care enough to face him, so I explored a small amount of it while he entered. I familiarized myself with the area, finding my way around the rooms that were now my cage.

After a short period of time, I heard the jingling of keys, and I decided to follow it. I entered a room, and saw Sebastian Castellanos aiming a gun at me. I didn't register which kind it was, just the pain of it's ammo meeting my skin.

I cried out in pain, beginning to move at him. It was similar to my fight before, but it hurt so much more. I was able to stand my ground more before, with the man I had loved helping. He kept shooting me, and I was unable to communicate I didn't want to hurt him at first. I flailed and moved away, trying to climb to the wall. I tried to combat him, trying to stop him as he kept shooting at me.

After some time, the tiredness overtook me. I couldn't fight him any longer. My body trembled, flailed one last time, and fell to the floor. I couldn't do anything, feeling my blood seep from my body. I didn't care anymore, feeling a twinge of sadness.

I had wanted him to love me. I had wanted to help him... But I... I've lost him.

With a shudder, I felt my body slip away.

#Stefano Valentini #The Evil Within 2 #the evil within stefano #stefano valentini fanfiction #stefano #tew #tew2 #tew2 stefano #His Bloody Rose #Chapter 25 #Broken Hearted

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triple-a-enderdragon · 5 years

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What is this, wicked witch of the west? Hope not.

First | Previous | Next

Impulse stared at the world data as the Nether disconnected from the overworld, two hermits still trapped inside. He tried sending them a message, but it failed to go through. Now Impulse was confused more than anything; both Iskall and Python showed on the world population list, he should be able to send a message to them. One could even send messages to people in other worlds; it just took awhile.

But never had he seen it just...fail.

He vaguely heard rockets overhead as someone deftly slid into the room. False grabbed his shoulder to steady herself, narrowly avoiding a collision.

"Impulse? What's going on?" she asked, watching the data shift.

Impulse took one last look at the world data, wanting desperately to not voice his dread. But he could not avoid reality.

"The Nether's closed off."

Their eyes met; her disbelief, his exhaustion.

"Are they still in there?"

"I wish I could say no, but..." Impulse gestured helplessly.

And for the first time in years, False was speechless.

~~~

Back in the Nether, Iskall was becoming more and more limp. Python, unable to support the full weight of the man, gently rested him against the wall. His friend's breathing was already alarmingly shallow; Python didn't know what to do.

It seemed Iskall did, as he placed down an ender chest and started to weakly go through it. He managed to pull out a light blue shulker box, but that was as far as he got before he collapsed completely. Python, upon opening it, discovered it was an emergency kit; filled with golden carrots, rockets, spare elytra, and blocks of packed ice. Seeing the packed ice, Python knew what Iskall was trying to do.

Pulling out a stack of the ice, he went to work surrounding them both in a cube before giving Iskall a block to hold. Almost immediately the temperature within the box started cooling, but Python was afraid he was too late; the Swede had already fallen unconscious.

It was then he noticed the ice beginning to melt.

~~~

How quaint. They think a little ice will stop me?

The column of fire stood at the edge of the ruined tunnel watching the two figures; one frantic, the other unmoving. Xisuma could only watch on in horror.

One is close, the other not far behind. Soon they shall join you.

X was unable to move, every fiber of his being screamed to do something, if only to just get away. But he could do nothing to stop the Nether from burning his friends alive. Even worse, they were there because of him.

Aw hell, where's the fun in that? They'll never leave, anyway.

A new wave of dread swept over X as he watched the pigmen converge on the icy shelter that kept two desperate hermits alive.

~~~

Tango was agitated. More than that, he was furious, enraged. He never agreed to this; the initial pact or this current "test". Or any of it, really. Two of his friends were dead with two more not far behind, and this pillar of bastard was to blame. Raging around his base, he didn't notice all the fires he was inadvertently setting for quite a while. When he did, he forced himself to calm down. Anger would do no good without a direction, a purpose.

Interestingly enough, Tango felt he could do something about it, he just needed some help; yet from who, he didn't quite know.

So he directed that anger towards this problem, who could help him. Many of the hermits were magical, but most didn't have what he was looking for. What was he looking for? Something Grian had said earlier had stuck with him: So this is what she meant? What did he mean by that? Tango was so preoccupied he didn't hear someone gliding into his base.

"Tango, you ok my dude? I saw smoke and was afraid it was getting a bit toasty in here."

Tango snapped out of his thoughts to find Ren looking concerned.

"Oh! No, it's nothing to worry about. Heat never bothered me, but..." He looked at the scorch marks in the grass. "I may have gotten a bit heated."

"A bit heated? This looks more than a bit. Anyway, just making sure everything's ok over here. If you need me, give a holler." As Ren turned to leave, Tango stopped him.

"Wait. I'm going to see Impulse, I think I know what I need to do." As Ren turned back, Tango asked, "You want to come with? The more heads the better."

~~~

To say Python was worried was an understatement. It took him almost an hour to calm himself down; when he did, he noticed two things. One, Iskall's breathing had deepened and he was no longer deathly pale. Second, the slowly thinning walls of ice had refrozen not long ago; the Nether's temperature had dropped. Even though they were still stuck in the Nether, Python could start to feel hope. As long as the two of them survived, their friends would find a way to get them out.

Now that Iskall's condition seemed to have stabilized, Python wanted to scout out a more permanent place to wait things out. However, as soon as he broke one of the ice blocks, a golden sword came whizzing inches past his face. Slamming the block back in place, Python had to take a minute to calm down. So there was a small horde of pigmen waiting for them just outside. But what was confusing was the fact that neither Iskall nor Python had provoked them in any way. At least, none that he could think of.

A small groan and the sound of movement behind him caused Python to turn around. When he saw Iskall struggling to sit up, he almost burst into tears of relief.

"Python? What happened? I remember the portal was out and—" Iskall was interrupted as Python tackled him in an iron grip of a hug. A squeak escaped him as the hug threatened to make him pass out again. Python heard it and quickly lessened the pressure, though he didn't let go for a few more seconds.

"Missed me, did you?"

"You have no idea, man! I was worried you were going to die! You can't do that again!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's just...the Nether and I never really got along very well." Iskall absentmindedly picked up the ice block he had held when he was unconscious. "If I stay in the Nether too long, I start to overheat; thus the packed ice."

"Well, you think you're ready for a fight?" Python asked as he stood up.

"A fight? Why?"

"Remember all those pigmen we saw earlier?" Iskall nodded. "Well, they're after us for whatever reason."

As Iskall got up, he had to grab Python to steady himself. "Why would they be after us?"

"I don't know. Are you sure you're ready for a fight?"

"Not really, but do I have a choice?"

~~~

False had left a few hours ago, leaving Impulse alone; she was needed elsewhere. So, completely alone, Impulse started to doubt himself. He had tried everything X had shown him before; resetting chunks, manually teleporting into the Nether, even just relighting the portals. Nothing worked. He couldn't understand how X could deal with things like this.

He heard a knock and turned to see Ren and Tango walking into the room. Impulse almost said something, but the look on Tango's face told him this was important.

"Impulse. I know what I need to do. But I need your help."

"My help?" Impulse asked. "What can I do?"

Tango paused, unsure of how to continue. "I need help finding specific people, but I don't know who."

Impulse was, understandably, confused. "And how can I help?"

"The same way Ren can; another head to bounce ideas off of. Besides, it has to do with the Nether problem."

That got Impulse's attention. He looked for Ren—who had stayed silent so far—to Tango. "We should probably find a better place then. X's base is a little depressing, all things considered."

Ren spoke up. "We can go to my base then."

At his base, Ren led them to a cozy room behind his storage area, or what would soon be. The three of them settled down. Or, at least two did; Impulse started pacing.

Ren, settling into a corner, asked, "So where do we start?"

"I think..." Tango, sitting in a chair, took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Four. We need four hermits, one for each cardinal direction. For each of the four elements."

"So...where do we start?"

"With me. I'm fire, I know that much. So we need to find hermits that match earth, air, and water."

Impulse had stopped pacing to say, "You sure?"

Tango sighed. "I'm not sure how, but yes."

"Do you have any other hunches?"

"Grian."

Tango looked up to find Impulse looking baffled. "And you said you need my help?"

Tango ran his fingers through his hair. "Those were the easy ones. The other two I have no idea."

Ren interjected, "Wait, how do you know it's Grian?"

Both Tango and Impulse looked at him. "He has wings, Ren. Real ones. And he's eons better than anyone else at flying," Tango answered. "Seems like air to me."

Ren nodded. "So we just need to find people who have something to do with water or earth?"

"It's the best I have."

~~~

It wasn't their best fighting, but Iskall and Python survived the pigman onslaught with superficial wounds. Now that the Nether was at a more manageable temperature, Iskall was no longer at immediate risk for heatstroke; they could safely search for a temporary safe location to wait this out. Python gathered up everything he found of value while Iskall hoisted Xisuma's body over his shoulder.

Taking to the air, the two scouted for an ideal location, taking frequent breaks to stave off heat exhaustion. After almost an hour and a few close calls, they found an adequate cave and started setting up their temporary base. Iskall, now utterly exhausted, passed out as soon as they were done, alarming Python. After checking on his friend, Python checked the spawn proofing of the cave one last time before settling down himself. Gazing at the block of packed ice, he wondered how long they would be stuck in the Nether. It wasn't long before he fell asleep as well.

~~~

Figuring out the other two hermits Tango needed was harder than they anticipated. Perhaps emboldened by how quickly the first two were identified, Ren and Impulse spent the next hour bouncing ideas around only for Tango to dismiss them. Until...

"Guys, what about Stress?" Both Tango and Impulse looked at Ren, who continued, "I know we've already discussed her, but the more I think about it the more plausible it is"

"What makes you say that?" asked Tango, intrigued.

"You ever wonder how she gets blue ice so fast?"

"I just assumed she used the ice farm Iskall build for her to use," said Impulse.

"Well, yes, but—she doesn't craft it," Ren explained. "She creates it. She showed me. She turned one block of packed ice into blue ice."

"How the— What!?"

Ren looked at Tango. "Is that water enough for you?"

Tango, staring at nothing, said, "It's the closest we've got. Alright, Stress is water. Now we just need to find earth."

"Scar. His terraforming skills could be—"

Tango cut Impulse off. "No, he already has the Vex."

"Oh. That makes sense," said Impulse, a bit miffed.

The three of them settled into a contemplative, edged silence. As the minutes passed, the nervous energy increased, to the point where they all jumped when someone entered the room. Standing in the doorway was, unexpectedly, TFC.

"So, you boys looking for me?"

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beatriceinmessina · 5 years

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Halloween Terrorfest, Day VIII: ‘Call in the spirits’

(A note: This one is one of my favorites that I’ve written. I hope you get a laugh or two from it.)

“This is the stupidest idea you have ever had.”

“No, that was when he talked us into eating from those cans and we all got food poisoning for a month.”

“I still think that wasn’t veal in mine. Goldner’s is people. It’s people and we’re cannibals.”

“It’s not people, George, enough with the Soylent Green bullshit,” Edward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“You agreed to it because we need your house and you haven’t got any other friends,” Henry said. He frowned and leaned closer. “No wonder you don’t. You’ve got like, the worst case of Resting Sad Face. How can you go around all day looking like a kicked puppy?”

“I agreed to it because Sol’s in Gloucestershire visiting his aunt. If he were here I would have said no and spent the evening at his place.”

“And then you would have died,” said Henry, “because you would have fucked and then a murderer would have gotten you. Rules of horror, remember?”

“Like that hasn’t stopped you from--”

“We’re going to die for this,” John interrupted nervously. “We’re not supposed to mess with spirits.”

“Please,” Edward snorted. “The odds of ghosts showing up are zero.”

“I don’t know about that,” Henry said, apparently deep in thought. “Didn’t you say your parents got this because it was way cheaper than it should have been? Property value dropped because ghosts. You practically live in the Murder House.”

“I hate that season.”

“I still don’t understand why you think Hotel is the greatest thing ever,” grumbled John, who thought the entire show was too ridiculous to be any fun.

“Because James Patrick March is hilarious, that’s why.”

“I thought it was because you think Evan Peters with a mustache and a weird accent is hot,” George said, and Edward whirled on him.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“Well, we all know that I’ve got a thing for Sister Mary Eunice when she’s possessed, so I don’t know why you get to keep yours a secret.”

“Wait,” Henry said, an evil grin spreading across his face, “he told me he wished John Lowe was real so he could, and I quote, ‘rail me until--’”

“ENOUGH!” Edward shouted. “One more word about this and the only ghosts in my house will be you three!”

“Alright, alright,” sighed Henry, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Lead the way, Violet Harmon.” Edward gave him a death glare and unlocked the door.

“If I’m Violet, you’re Dandy Mott.”

“I look like Finn Wittrock? Thanks.”

“No, you’re really fucking annoying and sometimes I want to strangle you.” Edward walked through the door and the others followed. As much as he hated to admit it, Henry was right--his house was exactly the type to have ghosts. 47 Franklin Street was a gothic Victorian mansion in all but size, built of stone with one part of the building sectioned off into an honest-to-god tower with a balcony on its roof. His parents had loved the aesthetic and decorated the interior accordingly, and now he spent half his time at home wondering if he was supposed to inherit the place, marry some wealthy American heiress, and poison her for her money. Except he didn’t have an insane sister to screw, so he’d have to push his wife off the upstairs railing himself. Great.

“Wow,” John said as he came into the entrance hall. “Feels like the House of Usher.”

“Blame my mum and dad. They love that kind of stuff.”

“You hiding any vampire brides in this place?” Henry asked. “Sol will be furious.”

“No,” Edward ground out from between clenched teeth and wondering why he was ever friends with Henry in the first place.

“Where are we going?” George asked as Edward led them up the winding staircase. Edward didn’t answer and continued on his way until they reached his mum’s office, which had a door in the ceiling. Wheeling her chair over its general area, he climbed atop it (which was a bad idea of the highest order because it was a swivel chair and wouldn’t stop twisting this way and that) and, struggling to keep his balance, managed to get a hold on the door-handle and pull it open so he could retrieve the ladder which folded out downwards from it. John’s jaw dropped.

“The attic? You want us to go… the bloody attic? There’ll be rats -- and cockroaches!”

“We got an exterminator the week we moved in, it’s fine up there,” Edward said. “Come on. You wanted a seance and the attic’s the best place for one.”

“Sounds good to me!” Henry chirped, and began his ascent. Edward followed, then George, and finally a reluctant John, muttering about how they would all die of rabies if the rats didn’t bite them to death first. Once they were all safely inside Edward turned on the light and pulled up the door. The attic was spacious and his parents had decided to use it as a storage space for everything they didn’t need all the time, so boxes were stacked up against the wall. Henry looked disappointed, and Edward rolled his eyes.

“What were you expecting? The bodies of my dead wives? Dracula in his coffin? Sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, we’re feeling feisty today. Let’s do this thing.” Henry sat down and pulled out his phone. “I’ve got the instructions right… here…” He looked up. “Come on, sit down.” They all followed his suit and looked to him for further instruction. “Okay, now we join hands.”

“If any of you jerked off before this and didn’t wash your hands after,” George said, “you have to tell me.” John gaped at him, aghast.

“You’re… it’s a school day! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Just a precaution.”

“I hate all of you right now.”

“Join hands already!” Henry barked, suddenly impatient, and, with much groaning and grunting, they did. “Close your eyes.”

“You better not be using this as an excuse to put a spider on my face,” John muttered.

“That was one time and it was the tiniest spider ever. Now shut up, we have to concentrate.” Henry shut his eyes and began to hum off-key. Edward resisted the increasingly strong urge to get up, open the door, and throw him down to the office. Maybe he should have cut class and taken a bus to Cheltenham so he could let Sol fuck him into oblivion. Or fuck Sol into oblivion, whichever. Either way would be incredibly preferable to Henry’s horrible scale-climbing.

“Should we have turned the lights off?” George asked. “I think the lights are supposed to be off for stuff like this.”

“Too late now, fuck you very much,” Henry singsonged, and resumed humming at a somewhat earsplitting pitch. He opened his eyes. “Spirits of this dwelling! We would speak to you!” he intoned, and Edward snorted. Henry glared at him and resumed. “We only need a few minutes of your time. Please grace us with your presence.”

“What if one’s a school shooter?” John whispered. “What if they’re all serial killers? Will we--”

“For the last time, I do not live in the Murder House!” hissed Edward, ready to drop his hands and throw himself down the ladder.

“John, you’re scaring them away!” Henry hissed in succession.

“He can’t scare them away because they don’t fucking exist!”

And then the lights went out.

“The fuck?” Henry whispered delightedly.

“This is how I die,” George moaned. “Tell my dad I’m sorry about the time he found Billy Gibson about to blow Cornelius in my closet.” Despite the darkness, Edward turned to him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven and it got out of hand. All I did was make out with Charlie Des Voeux a little,” he added quickly. “And it sucked. He bit my tongue. I have a scar, if you wanna see-”

“No one wants to see your tongue scar, George; why are we talking about this when there’s a ghost?” Henry squealed. “Just listen! I can hear it!”

Sure enough, there was a moaning from somewhere in the house, faint but creeping closer. John squeezed Edward’s hand tight enough to cut off the blood-flow, earning himself what sounded like a feral snap of the teeth at his ear. “Ned, did you just try and bite me?!”

“Well, I can’t think properly when you’re murdering my hand!”

“Who could it be?” Henry wondered aloud, seemingly oblivious to the distress surrounding him. “A man whose wife murdered him when she found out he cheated? A girl who was smothered by her father so she wouldn’t run away? A boy who fell off the roof? Candyman?”

“Candyman’s in America,” Edward grunted, trying to extract his hand from John’s death grip.

“Yeah, but he’s English in the short story. What if he moved back?”

“He didn’t because he’s not real -- ugh. John, let me go!”

“Oh god, I hope he is,” whispered Henry, and shivered.

Edward finally pulled his hand free, groaning and flexing his fingers. “Please tell me you’re not into him.”

“You want James Patrick March to shove his tongue down your throat, I want Daniel Robitaille to tell me he wants me right here and right now in that sexy deep voice of his. We’re all a little weird. Now be quiet!”

“You were the one who started theorizing--”

“Shut up!”

“I hope it’s Betelgeuse,” said George. “He’s fun.”

“Why would Betelgeuse moan like that?” asked Edward, but John had already started singing.

“Panic and stress, oh, ain’t it the best? The sound of a heart exploding inside a chest--”

“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP!” Henry bellowed. “I can’t hear it anymore. You scared the ghost away.”

But there the moaning was again, now coming right up through the floor. On and on it went as they all fell silent, until a few minutes had passed with the source still unrevealed.

“Maybe we need to open the door for it,” John whispered, now positively strangling a white-faced George’s hand. Henry shook his head.

“It’s a ghost. It can just, like, float up or teleport.”

“Maybe real ghosts are different than fictional ones,” George wheezed, tugging his arm away from John fruitlessly. “Open the door.”

“No.”

“Henry Thomas Dundas Le Vesconte,” Edward hissed, bled dry of every single drop of patience, “open the goddamn door so we can get this over with or I will honest-to-gods strangle you!”

“Fine, Dad.” Henry rolled his eyes and got up, walking over to the attic door and pulling it open. (The lights were, disappointingly, still working in the rest of the house.) A second of silence, and then he sucked in a terrified breath. “Oh, no. Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Edward rose and went over to him. “If you’re screwing with me I swear -- fuck!” he yelped, seeing the source of the moaning.

It was no ghost that stared back at them. It was an enormous fluffy white cat, evidently lost.

Tuunbaq.

“No,” Henry whispered, backing away. “No, no, no. Oh shit, we’re stuck up here!”

“What is it?” George asked, dangerously pale. John made a nervous squeaking noise.

“The cat,” Edward said grimly. “Silna’s cat.”

“Silna’s cat?” John repeated.

“You know. Her cat who hates every single one of us.”

“Oh,” George mumbled, looking rather dizzy. “Her cat who… tried to chew off my arm…”

“John, let him go,” Edward snapped, still hanging over the edge of the open door. “Okay. Maybe we wait for him to leave?”

“He’ll still be in the house, he could maul us the second we think we’re safe,” John said, finally letting go of George’s hand, who flopped over onto the floor. “We should find stuff to throw at him.”

“Yeah, and if we kill him Silna and Harry never talk to us again.”

“That’s a small price to pay,” George squeaked from the floor. “I’m with John.”

Tuunbaq mewed and padded forward, climbing nimbly up the ladder and, before Edward could move, leapt onto his chest, knocking him down and meowing triumphantly, quite pleased with himself.

“Stupid… fucking… cat… get off me…”

“I mean…” Henry grinned. “This is actually kind of cute.”

“Cute? Cute? CUTE?! I have a demon cat on my chest!”

“Yeah, but look at him! He’s all curled up and purring. Like a big fuzzy snowball.”

“I don’t care. Get him off me.”

“Just give me a sec.” Henry already had his phone out and was snapping pictures. “Everyone’s gotta see the latest installment in the Murdering Cat saga.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Edward hissed, flipping Henry off with both hands.

“Ooh, sorry, I’m not willing to be a homewrecker unless you take me out a few times first. Now Fairholme from maths class? There’s a homewrecker. He broke up James Ross and Ann Coulman last month.”

“How?” George asked. “Who’d he screw?”

“Neither. He told Ann he saw James making out with Eleanor Porden in the Tesco car park and she broke up with him.”

“Was James doing that?”

“I don’t know. Fairholme’s a bit weird, I think he just likes destroying people’s happiness.”

“Hello? Demon cat!” Edward shouted. “Get him off me!”

“He’s sleeping now,” John said, leaning over cautiously. “Awwww. He’s not so bad when he’s sleeping.”

“Again, I don’t care. GET. HIM. OFF. ME.”

“Fine, jeez. Maybe we can just, like… push him off you, or something. If we’re careful he might stay asleep.” John cocked his head to the side, observing Tuunbaq carefully.

“Yes, great. Do that before he crushes my ribcage.”

Henry was the first to try, leaning over and cautiously prodding Tuunbaq with a finger. When the cat didn’t respond, he tried pushing him across Edward’s chest towards the floor. Still the cat slumbered. Another push. Another--

Tuunbaq was almost completely on the floor when his eyes snapped open and he launched himself into the air. “MOVE!” George roared with the sudden, thunderous force of a drill sergeant, and they all scrambled backwards from the flying white blur, who landed in the middle of the floor with his head held high.

If cats could smirk, Tuunbaq was doing just that. With another pleased mew he descended the ladder and disappeared from their sight. One by one they crept forth from the corners and peered over the edge. Tuunbaq seemed to be gone.

“We have to look for him,” Edward said, and the others looked at him, utterly astonished. “I am not living for who knows how long in fear of being mauled in my own house.”

“It’s your parents’ own house, technically,” John began, and Henry elbowed him. “Ow! Fine, let’s go. I hate this attic anyway.”

They climbed down the ladder, and, since they knew that splitting up always led to inevitable death in these kinds of situations, stuck closely together as they searched each room on the second floor, and then on the first. Even the basement and the tower yielded no sign of the cat, and once they came up from the former John pointed out an open window.

“He probably jumped out there,” he said. Edward blinked and stared at the window.

“That was closed. I know that was closed.”

“Magic,” Henry whispered, doing jazz hands. “Ghosts. Witches.”

“For the last goddamn time, my house is not haunted, and your stupid seance just proved it.”

“But that window--”

“Can I play a little?” George interrupted, gesturing to the grand piano in the living room. (For some reason it had been gathering dust in the basement when they’d moved in. No one played it, but Edward’s dad thought it pulled the room together.) “We’ve just got the upright at home.”

“Go ahead.” No sooner had George settled at the piano than the requests came flooding in.

“The Beatles--”

“Florence and the Machine--”

“Cabaret--”

“Stevie Nicks--” At the last one George nodded and started to play, picking out some notes on the lower keys before beginning a familiar tune on the higher ones. Edward promptly burst into song.

“Just like the white-winged dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singin’ whoo, whoo, whoo. Just like the white-winged dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singin’ whoo, baby, whoo, said whoo. And the days go by like a strand in the wind, in the web that is my own I begin again--”

“Jesus Christ,” said Henry. “Stevie you are not.”

“Yeah, and you can’t sing that well either. And none of us can dance. Do I have to sing this by myself? But that moment when I first laid eyes on him, all alone on the edge of seventeen -- just like the white-winged dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singin’ whoo, baby, whoo, whoo--”

George, John, and Henry joined in the singing, and, if they hadn’t been so busy only slightly butchering those immortal lyrics, they might have noticed the yellow cat’s eyes staring at them from behind the grandfather clock.

They had spoiled his nap. Tuunbaq would have his revenge.

#halloweenterrorfest #day 8 #the terror #the terror amc #edward little #henry le vesconte #george hodgson #john irving #tuunbaq #my lieutenant sons #(this is dumb and i'm proud of it)#(it's also way too long because i just kept adding to it)#akh's writing #akh.txt

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