#I technically could still push work off until tomorrow

[obstinaterixatrix]

was gonna push off work until tomorrow bc I am sooo sleepy but then I remembered… audits…

#my ramblings #I technically could still push work off until tomorrow #but even when it’s within the completion time I hate getting flagged for incomplete work #there’s some I have to push off tho. I’m not doing that. #me: I’m just gonna play coral island and not care about anything else #[spends an hour helping mom w her essay] [starts paperwork]

[queers-gambit]

God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #fx the bear #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fanfiction

[echobx]

figure you out part 2 - jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jj do many things that my parents would call disgusting bc my parents are prudes :)))

warnings: angsty, cheating, fluff, smut smut warnings: p in v, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, cock warming, over-stimulation, aftercare

word count: 5.7k

author's note: idk what I'm doing okay. just vibes. also, why do i do cliffhangers all the fucking time? (wtf is this summary also? idk how that shit works)

part 1

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y/n was taken aback at first, but all of her worries, all the pain and exhaustion, slipped away the moment her lips locked with his. He started with a few small kisses, his right hand securing her neck as the left one grabbed her waist, pulling her closer into him. His tongue grazed her lips and she let him in. It felt wrong to kiss him, but it also felt right. Most of all, it felt long overdue, as if she had waited for nothing else ever since their first kiss at twelve years old.  His tongue dominated her mouth as they shared breath and spit. Small gasps were leaving her as he grabbed her waist a bit tighter until he pulled away, but still leaving a few dozen more small kisses on her lips.  "Bet he never kisses you like that," JJ breathed heavily, a wide smile on his lips.  "Fucking asshole," she hissed before pulling him back into a kiss. Now that she had gotten a taste of it, she couldn't stop. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. Actually, she had never felt like this because no one had ever been as perfect as JJ was.  He smiled into the kiss, his hands grasping her waist under the shirt. Her skin was incredibly soft and warm, and it made him dizzy to feel her like that when he had never gotten the opportunity to.  "I'll apologize tomorrow morning," he growled as he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. y/n's legs hooked behind his back and her hands in his hair, while JJ's grasped her thighs and ass before they both fell into bed. 

"This is a really, really bad idea, Maybank," y/n growled as she watched him get up to take off his clothes.  "It's the best idea I ever had, princess." He smirked while pulling his shirt over his head. y/n's breath hitched as she looked at him. He looked better than she had remembered. The nights had been long and lonely, and sometimes the only relief she could find was by picturing herself next to him, falling asleep in his arms like she had done thousands of times while growing up.  "You're not so bad yourself," JJ chuckled while looking at her. "I've always loved to see you in my shirts. But right now I would rather see it off."  He crawled into bed, only his boxers still on his hips. She tried to take off the shirt, but he stopped her.  "I'll take care of that," he whispered before kissing her again. Then he moved down, starting at the seam over her slip he slowly pushed up the fabric of the old shirt, trailing kisses up her stomach and towards her tits. Revealing first the left one, pressing the flat of his tongue to her nipple before gently nibbling at the hardened bud. y/n moaned and gasped as he left tiny hickeys all over her boob before revealing the right one and treating it with similar affections.  "Now you can take it off, princess." He smiled greedily before turning his attention to the nightstand.  She pulled the shirt over her head and threw it to the floor next to his clothes.  "You won't find what you're looking for," she giggled.  "That's a bummer," he sighed.  "So not." She shook her head and his eyes widened.  "My turn now?" she asked with a smile, and he fell to the side so she could climb on top. 

"You know how much fun we could have had without those stupid rules?" y/n grinned down at him. His hands grasped her thighs as she leaned down to kiss his body. "You're so hot, Maybank."  "So glad we aren't breaking any rules then, at least not the important ones, because you technically aren't a Pogue anymore," he chuckled but the way she dug her fingernails into his waist made him hiss in light pain.  "Dangerous thing to say while I'm on top of you, asshole," she hissed and let go again, going back to kissing him and moving farther down with each kiss until she met the waistband of his underwear.  "Hold my hair, will you," she smirked before pulling the briefs off just enough for his hard dick to spring free. 

She had heard about his size, she had assumed a lot towards it too, and although they had been close she had never felt the urge to ask, but now she was actually impressed. The saliva started to build in her mouth as she looked at him and with another small glance up at his face she licked over his length.  "Fuck," JJ gasped at the sensation. His hand immediately grasped her hair to hold it out of the way as she started to suck his dick. Her tongue flicked over his tip and around before she started to take him in fully.  JJ couldn't resist the urge to thrust upwards into her. Hitting the back of her throat a few times before a single tear ran down her cheek, but she didn't gag or give him any notion to stop. She looked so perfect with her pretty lips around his cock and after some time of doing nothing more than thrusting into her and her tongue playing with him in various ways, he felt like his dick would explode from how good she made him feel. He wanted to pull out, knowing well enough that not everyone was into it all, but she held him back.  She hollowed her cheeks a bit more, trying to create an even worse vacuum effect than she had before. His eyes rolled back as he shot his cum inside her, and she made sure to take in every single drop of him.  y/n got up and took a sip of water to wash down the remaining cum in her mouth, while JJ just lay there, completely exhilarated and unable to move because of what she had just done to him.  "Your first blowjob or what?" she laughed, and he turned to look at her.  "No, but the best one for sure," he panted, and she smiled triumphantly. 

"How long do you need?" she asked and nodded towards his flaccid cock.  "Depends," he smirked.  "On what?" she asked, but it didn't really matter what he said, she knew she would do it. This night was her one mistake that she had allowed herself to make, and she wanted to make it worthwhile. "On what you wanna do next." He held out his hand, and she took it, lying down beside him.  "I already did what I wanted to do. It's your turn now, Maybank," she whispered, and he immediately got on top while kissing her.  "Has anyone ever fucked you with just their hand or do they all think their tiny dicks are enough?" he teased before pushing the fabric of her panties to the side and pushing his fingers inside of her. "You're so soft, so very perfect, princess," he growled as she rolled her eyes back with pleasure. 

"I'm waiting for an answer," JJ hissed and rapidly pulled his fingers back out.  "No one, just me. Only ever me," she gasped and bit her lip.  "Maybe I should let you do it by yourself then," he chuckled before biting her hip so she would lift it, and he could free her from the flimsy fabric.  "You're so fucking beautiful and so very fucking wet for me, princess," he mused while slowly petting her along her swollen folds. His lips and tongue were tracing over her body while his fingers arched up inside her in a continuous thrusting motion. Moans and gasps slipped out of her throat, and she got even more eager when he started to stimulate her clit with his thumb. No one had ever made her cum but herself. He wouldn't have to know that, though, that the only real pleasure she had ever managed to receive was one she had to take care of herself.  But JJ was incredibly good at understanding what her body needed and what it liked, even better than she was herself. Every little twitch and moan was something he memorized, and then he kept doing it over and over again, only repeating what she had shown him to want until she felt like she would burst.  "Cum for me, baby," he growled, and she did. Her legs trembling and her breath hitching as she spilled out around his fingers, but he didn't stop thrusting until the whole of the orgasm had washed over her.  "Fuck, you're beautiful like that," he praised her as she tried to regain some of the strength in her legs. She had never had come as hard as he had managed to take her.  "Do you need a break, darling?" he asked sweetly, and she nodded. 

JJ laid down beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Be honest, has it ever been this good?" he whispered, and she had to laugh.  "No, had to fake it every single time. They don't care, you know," she mumbled while holding onto him.  "That's sad, but you have me now. I would never dare to not take good care of you," he simpered, but y/n didn't have the guts to tell him yet that this could never be more than a single night. One night of hopefully many happy mistakes. "It's hard to even get close to an orgasm when they go in and are done five minutes later. And then they seriously asked 'did you?' as if it wasn't fucking clear that the only one who had fun was them," she complained and JJ laughed.  "How good are you at faking it," he pondered, and y/n took it as a challenge. She started to loudly moan and grunt and even scream.  "Oh god! Yes! That's it! Right there! Faster! Harder! You're fucking me so good!" she cried out before falling into a deep laughter. "You're really good at that," JJ chuckled, but she just shrugged. "Years of training, my friend."  "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly and pressed his face into her hair.  "Better. Way better. Also, never had anyone care about me after, feels nice," she mumbled.  "There's many benefits to sleeping with JJ Maybank," he chuckled and kissed her cheek.  "I could eat something," y/n sat up and looked down on him. "Real food, not Maybank. But I'll take that again, later." She winked at him before getting up and leaving for the kitchen.

"You don't have much food from what it looks like," JJ said from behind her as they stood in front of the opened fridge, completely naked.  "What time is it?" she asked and grabbed for her phone that lay on the island.  "Why is that important?" he asked, confused.  "That's the fun part," she grinned at him before walking over to a drawer and pulling a slim blister out of it. She took the small pill with a bit of water and then went back to staring at the fridge.  "You're on birth control?" JJ asked, but she couldn't really tell why he was so confused about it.  "Yeah, to your own luck tonight." She flashed her eyebrows at him. "Why? You aren't having any sex with him. Why would this precaution be necessary?" He asked and she looked away.  "Because his parents don't want a slip-up to happen. They like me a lot, but I'm still from the Cut. They are scared that I will seduce him and have a baby in wedlock. She even went to my gyno with me to make sure I was healthy and that I would actually get it prescribed," y/n admitted.  JJ simply hugged her because he knew she needed the comfort. The more they were together on their own, the more the two of them realized how much easier everything would have been if JB had never insisted on putting up the rule.  "I mean, the thought of making sure you're healthy and have choices, that's good, right? But I don't really like the part where they don't trust you enough to go on your own. I don't like them at all, but that shit is just next level crazy," he mumbled into her neck.  "I know," she sighed.  "I'm clean too, and if I wasn't, it would be too late for that now anyway," he laughed and pulled away enough to look at her. "Very funny," she tried to stay sincere but had to laugh too. "It's good that you look after yourself, though. Especially good for me right now," she grinned before kissing him again. The idea of a late night snack was thrown away as she only focused on what she had wanted ever since she learned what it meant to sleep with someone.  "I want you to fuck me, JJ," she moaned in between kisses. 

Back in bed, y/n leaned over and grabbed the small bottle of lube from her nightstand.  "Don't make that face, I know what I'm doing," she laughed as he looked at her slightly hurt. "Jay, you know I'm wet, but this is, so I can feel it all. I swear to god it's going to be so much better like this." "How do you know that?" he asked, and she laughed again.  "I have little helpers, and no matter how very excited I am at the start, in the long run, this shit always helps out more," she explained, and he nodded while putting a tiny bit of lube on the tip of his hard cock.  "How do you-" he wanted to ask again, but she just pulled him in, her lips on his as her hand took a hold of his dick. Flicking it over her slit a few times before guiding him inside her.  She gasped at the feeling of having him fully inside her, and his head fell to her shoulder. "You feel so good, asshole," she moaned silently as he started moving.  "How will I ever wanna fuck anyone else, baby? God, you're so soft and perfect," he hummed. "Can I fuck you slowly, princess?"  "You can fuck me in any way you like, Maybank," she pressed out before fully focusing on the feeling of him. How perfect he fit into her, as if they had always been made for each other.  His arms were around her back, holding onto her shoulders, just like her legs did to his waist. He made sure to thrust deeply, focusing on every tiny noise she made. How she whimpered, moaned and gasped as his dick brought her pleasure.  With time, he fastened his pace and her breath started to hitch. She could feel every vein on his throbbing cock rubbing against her walls, and it drove her crazy.  "Jay!" she gasped, and he lifted his head from her neck, where he had left more than a dozen hickeys over time.  "Make me cum, JJ," she hushed before another blissful moan slipped from her lips.  "Look at me, princess, I want to see you when you lose yourself. All just for me, baby," he growled greedily, as he kept his pace steady but reached down with his right hand and started to rub her clit in the same rhythm. It didn't take her long to finish as he focused solely on her pleasure. Her eyes rolled back at first, but JJ pulled her back in, holding her chin in his hand as he kept on fucking her through her high until she felt like she had nothing left inside her. Her legs stopped trembling, and her moans died down into whispers.  But all of that changed the moment JJ came. His cum shot into her, and she gasped at the unknown but pleasant feeling.  "I love you so much, y/n!" he moaned while holding himself steady as his orgasm died down, and he collapsed on top of her. 

"You love me?" she asked after they had just laid there for a while. He was still not ready to pull out, but he knew he had to.  "I do. Is that a problem?" he asked while pulling out and getting up.  "You can't love me. We can't be together." She pulled the sheets over her body as if she was scared that he would see something that he hadn't already. "What is this then? Are you really that cold? Have you changed that much? I can't believe it, and I fell for it. I fell for my own game." He shook his head as he scoffed and picked up his clothes.  "What are you doing?" she asked in fear.  "I'm leaving, y/n! Fuck, you can't even see what you are doing. You left me! Eight months is a hell of a lot of time, and you never texted or called or even looked at me when we crossed paths. And now, you let me have you just to tell me that you don't feel the same? That you're still going to marry that fucking Kook? What's wrong with you?" he cried out at her. "You can't love me," she mumbled and shook her head.  "Why not? Just because it took me forever and a broken heart to realize it doesn't mean that it's not true. I do love you, I think I always have. You were my first kiss! Do you even remember that? Or that we were the only reason John B added that stupid rule to the pact? I guess you've forgotten it all. Kooks don't need friends as it seems," he finished and turned around to leave, putting his shirt over his head. 

"I can't- JJ!" she cried out and jumped out of bed, dragging the sheet with her. "What? Do you want to hurt me some more? Should I rip my actual heart out so you can go on and stomp on it?" he yelled but stopped as he saw the tears streaming down her face.  "If you do, then my whole fucking plan isn't going to work. You can't love me because I can't- I have a future, I was ready to make the sacrifices so that my kids wouldn't have to grow up like we did. I can't love you because I already lost you," she wept.  "You've never truly lost me, princess," he hushed while taking her into a hug. "And you shouldn't have to sacrifice a single thing to be happy." "I never wanted the car. Stupid car. I shouldn't have accepted it," she murmured into his chest as the shirt dried off her tears.  "It's not a real engagement, no one but the family knows, you can easily break it off," he suggested as if it was the easiest thing ever.  "I owe them a lot. I got into college because his dad knows the dean, JJ," y/n sobbed.  "You're too smart for that. You would have gotten in on your own terms no matter what. And also, you're already in, they can't really revoke that, especially with your GPA, princess." He kissed her head and it actually calmed her down.  "What do we do now?" She asked quietly.  "What time will he be back?" JJ asked with a mischievous grin on his face.  y/n thought about it for a while before replying. "Tomorrow night, around 6pm. Why?"  "That just means we have over 12 hours to ruin this very fancy apartment in every way you can think of, before we pack all your shit and make a run for it." He pulled away and grinned at her.  "That's a terrible plan. We should start on the couch," she giggled. 

"You still haven't eaten anything," JJ said as she pulled him towards the couch.  "I only have ice cream," she answered while pushing him to sit on the couch. "Stay right there, but maybe take your clothes off again." "What do you wanna do to me?" His question was more out of curiosity than anything else, there was little to nothing that he would have said no to. "You'll see." She smiled and walked back over into the kitchen, where she grabbed a spoon and the small ice cream bucket out of the freezer.  Meanwhile, JJ had taken off all of his clothes, throwing them over the coffee table.  "Hold this." y/n handed both items to him before she straddled him in his seat. One hand on his hard dick and the other on his shoulder for stability. "Look at me," she ordered as she slowly let herself down on him before plopping down on the last few inches.  "That was so hot, baby," he gasped, and she simply kissed him with a smile on her lips.  "Way worse like this," she hushed as she rolled her hips a single time. "Be a good boy and hold still while I eat." She started eating and he stared at her. He had never even thought about doing it like this, and now it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. To be inside her as she gently squeezed his dick once in a while smirking at him. It was too perfect to be true, especially when she dripped some ice cream on her tits, and he could lick it off. He loved her and her perfect tits and the tight pussy that squeezed him so hard that he nearly lost himself just like that.  JJ was occupied by sucking on her nipples when his phone rang. y/n reached for it as it lay next to his clothes on the table, and she picked up and turned the call to speaker mode without saying a single thing. 

"JJ?" John B asked and JJ signed her to stay quiet. "What do you want," JJ asked while staring at her. She had put the empty ice cream bucket on the table behind them and listened carefully to what the two young men were saying. "Have you apologized yet? I feel like I might have overreacted a bit last night and I don't want you to sleep on the streets," John B sounded concerned, more so than JJ had ever thought to hear him be when it came to him.  "I mean, I wouldn't call it an apology. But I'm working on it," JJ grinned. "And you don't need to worry, I'll be back tomorrow. I'm being taken care of rather well right now."  JJ thrusted up into y/n and a loud gasp left her because of the sensation.  "You're so disgusting, JJ. Don't even tell me because I already threw up in my mouth just now," John B complained.  "Okay, then I won't tell you that Sharky is so very grown up, she even swallows," JJ laughed and y/n ripped the phone out of his hands.  "You're a fucking asshole, Maybank!" she sneered before hanging up on John B. 

"Am I?" JJ teased and grasped her hips.  "Yes," she hissed and wanted to get up, but he held her in place.  "No, you're gonna fuck me now. And I won't let you stop until you can't move on your own anymore," he whispered into her ear before nibbling on the sensitive skin right below it.  "I'm not going to do that. You can't force me," she gasped as he started to fuck her from below.  "You don't even like it gentle, I know you. You want to be fucked like it's the last day on earth, and you want that every single time. Isn't that right?" he growled.  "You don't know that," she moaned and started moving her hips, although she really didn't want to. But she had no control over it, her body and instincts were working against her mind and to fight it would just make it worse, but she did it anyway. "I had just hoped for him to be awful, but that he doesn't even know you like that makes it so much better. He has no idea what I stole from him," JJ laughed lightly. "I'm not an object," she admonished as they kept on slowly fucking. Her head leaning against his and her hands in his hair.  "No, you're a whole fucking goddess," he mused before kissing her deeply and turning themselves around so he could take over again.  He started thrusting at a faster pace while kneeling in between her legs as she lay before him. Her head was pressed into the pillows on the couch, trying to muffle her lustful screams and moans.  "You're gonna cum for my baby. Cum for me," he gasped, but she didn't give him the satisfaction yet.  "Faster, please," she yelped, and he obliged. Bringing himself so close to his own tipping point that it was hard to maintain the pace while looking at her. Her tits jiggling and their pelvises clashing against each other.  "Gonna cum," y/n moaned and did in the same moment. JJ couldn't hold on any longer either, and their juices mixed together and spilled out around him as he forced himself to fuck her through his own orgasm. He pulled out and held up her hips even higher than before just to dive in head first and licking over her slit while she was still trembling.  "Oh god!" she yelped at the feeling his tongue brought her. She wanted to drown in it. To never have to stop to feel this perfect. It didn't take him long to finish her off a second time.  His tongue flat against her slit and clit before dipping into her in thrusting motions. He sucked on her clit, and then he fucked her with his tongue just to go back to focusing solely on her clit. It was a constant mix of pleasures, and she was so overwhelmed by it that she came into his mouth. He licked her out until she was no longer gasping, and her legs had lost their grip around his head. 

"Definitely ruined this couch. What's next?" JJ asked after pulling her back up and into his arms. "Are you okay?"  "How did-" she couldn't even form any coherent sentences yet, her mind still overflowing with hormones.  "Always wanted to eat you out, princess, and you taste so good," he hummed before kissing her passionately. There was so much love between them that it was hard to imagine that they hadn't always been together.

"I'm gonna take care of you know," he said as he got up and carried her into the bathroom. Sitting her down on the small chair that had usually held the towels, but he had thrown them to the side to give her space to sit. Then he turned on the faucet at the bathtub and pulled a bottle of bathing oil out of the cabinet. "Roses," he smiled and let a few drops of it fall into the warm water.  He picked her up again and stepped into the bathtub with her. The water was still rising around them, and it was very warm, but she didn't mind the heat.  "Talk to me, princess," he said after y/n had turned around and pressed her back into his chest. His head was resting on her shoulder, leaving fleeting kisses on her skin.  "I've never cheated on anyone," she mumbled as the realization of what they had been doing came crashing down on her.  "I've cheated a lot, never on anyone, but with them. It's sad how many of these assholes don't appreciate what they have. I wouldn't even dare to think about not fucking you. Maybe he's gay, that would be a reason," JJ mumbled.  "He's not gay. I gave him a hand job once, after that he said it was 'sinful' or some shit. That's why I didn't tell him," y/n admitted.  "Remember that asshole? The first one? I broke his nose really good, just one hit," he chuckled. "You broke his nose?!" she gasped and turned her head to look at him.  "He hurt you in the worst way possible. I should've done more than that," he scoffed.  "Promise me to not hurt Travis, no matter what happens," she whispered, and he nodded. "Promise. But I think fucking you in his home over and over again, and stealing you away, is already a lot of pain. At least it would be for me." "You love me that much?" she asked, a bit perplexed. "I've always loved you this much. I would have nearly run into those shark infested waters to get you, if you hadn't been so much braver and smarter than me," he chuckled. "I totally forgot about that," she laughed. "They would've killed you. You go nuts when you're scared. But they were harmless, they really didn't want to eat me, I promise."  "That's exactly what you said back then, too, and I still don't believe it, darling." He leaned his head against hers. 

"I love you too," she whispered with a smile on her lips. "Why does it feel so relieving to say that out loud?"  "Have been locked up for so long, those feelings, that they became too heavy," he mumbled with a light sigh.  They stayed like this for a while until JJ turned off the water. He shifted behind her, and she whimpered at the slight slouching of her body against his.  He put his arms back around her, pulling her into him with a kiss to the back of her head. "Now that you're not going through with it, why would you even consider it? And I mean you, not what your parents think," he asked softly, and she let her head fall back onto his shoulders.  "I don't know, I guess I was lonely. Maybe I would have never even gone out with him if he hadn't asked me in the middle of the hallway at school, during a break. I'm so bad at saying no to people," she sighed.  "You always said no to me," he gasped jokingly. "That's so not true, I only say no to you when it will literally get you thrown in jail or worse," she argued and he laughed lightly. 

"Can I get back to your question now?" she asked, and he nodded.  "Will do my best to not interrupt again," he whispered before kissing her cheek.  "He's sweet, gifts me shit and all. He never made me feel bad for anything, apart from the sex thing, but other than that he's a really good guy. I just thought, because my parents said it was a safe way of getting off the Cut, instead of my crazy plan- I thought it was the right choice, that I would eventually fall in love with him. I heard a lot of arranged marriages work like that, they can stand each other, like each other even and then the love comes after that," she explained.  "Do you think he loves you?" JJ whispered the question and y/n had a hard time finding an answer. They had never said the words, she wouldn't have meant them anyway, so she had never seen a reason to.  "I don't know, actually, maybe he does. I think he could, I'm not sure. Would you do everything he did for me if you didn't love the person?" y/n looked at him, hoping for an answer that would make leaving easier, but he couldn't provide her with one.  "I would give you the world if I could," JJ said and kissed her. He never wanted to stop doing it. He never wanted to stop kissing, touching, loving. He had waited so long to be with her, and he wasn't going to let go that easy.  "You've already done more than anyone ever attempted," she hushed as they broke apart.  "Gonna attempt so much more, darling," he chuckled, brushing his nose against hers.  "I thought we had to do all of that tonight, but now that's out of the window. Unless they rip my head off," y/n mumbled.  "How much better are you feeling?" he asked with a mischievous grin on his face.  "Why? What are you planning?" She was a bit scared, but she followed him out of the tub anyway.  "It's a crazy idea, but it might just work. You trust me, right?" he smiled at her while handing her a towel.  "I do, but I would prefer to know what you want to do," she answered, but he just grinned and left for the bedroom as soon as he had dried himself off.  He came back into the bathroom and handed her his old shirt to put on. "Stay here, I'll come get you in a second." 

JJ went into the living room and opened both the heavy curtains and the glass doors that went out onto the balcony.  "What are you doing?" He heard y/n's scared voice coming from the bathroom. "It's going to be okay," he assured her while walking back.  His hands grasped her waist under the shirt, and he pulled her up to carry her. Her arms and legs looped around him as he carried her onto the balcony.  "I can't be here," she cried, her eyes screwed shut. She tried to focus on the feeling of sand beneath her feet, waves crashing in; surfing had always been her safe place, but even now it wasn't enough. "Focus on me and nothing else," JJ hushed before kissing her. He managed to let her forget where they were in this short moment, and she was very grateful for it.  "I wanna take you, right here, right now, will you let me?" He asked gently, and she nodded, her eyes still closed.  "Look at me princess," he whispered, and she slowly opened her eyes, focusing only on him and not the gloomy fear that she got from her surroundings, from being so high up it felt like touching the sky.  "I need you to say it." His hands were caressing her thighs as he held her up. "I want you to see the stars and sea when I fuck you. Do you think you can do that?"  "Yes, JJ," she answered with a light nod. He smiled happily and let out a whispered, "good."

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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

pt.3

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #smut #obx fic #obx fanfiction #my writing #~fanfiction #~figure you out #~smut

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/06/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; New Events calendar; A Safe Space Ship Event; Watch Parties; Reminders; Cast & Crew Sightings; Clowning; OLD SPICE!; Stats!; Market Research?; Articles; Personal Update; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika

== New Events Calendar from SaveOFMDCrew! ==

More events happening throughout the week! Tumblr Post

Tomorrow is Cosplay Day! Show off your cosplay and OFMD-Inspired outfits with the hashtags: #WearFineThingsWell!

= New Upcoming Event: A Safe Space Ship! =

Sunday, February 11th - Star of India in San Diego, CA! Museum Hrs: 10 am - 5 PM 1/2 Price Tickets!

== Watch Parties ==

Today's WWDITS watch party went great!

Lots of people had fun pointing out our lovely characters from the show (Mads, Taika, Rhys)

It actually went so well the SaveOFMDCrew twitter got banned! It's back though! If you can, please be sure to follow their backup account in case it happens again.

== Reminders! ==

Muppet Treasure Island - Feb 7th 2024 4PM EST, 1PM PST, 9 PM GMT

Watch Party Hashtags:

#MuppetPirates

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

This was technically the 5th, but I don't think the excitement happened mostly today so I'm gonna throw it in! So Chaos Dad popped his head out yesterday just long enough to like Samba's BTS post on twitter and then also Samba and Rhys' little exchange.

And of course that triggered clowning since anytime Chaos Dad pops in we don our clown shoes. Thank you to @merryfinches for catching some of the discourse!

== Old Spice! ==

Well well well, we're back to polite menacing brands until they respond to us!

Looks like another Astroglide is starting up, the Crew is out there matching deodorants to characters. Thanks to @brainfugk for calling it out!

== Stats! Stats! Stats! ==

So close fam! Let's keep pushing that UK viewership if you have the time/spoons!

= Market Research Campaign about OFMD Potentially Going On? =

There's some speculation around the market research company YouGov potentially conducting research on OFMD. There's a big thread. Why is this important? Well this company works with streamers to measure viewership data, and if OFMD is in there...and someone's interested, that could be a good sign.

Some folks signed up, and if you're interested in doing so too, you can here.

== Articles ==

Some fun articles tonight, including Hard Drive again!

Joke Article: HBO Max Unveils Ominous New “Don’t Get Too Attached” Category

Our Flag Means Death and 9 Other Best TV Shows and Movies About Pirates

Our Flags Means Death fans get TV licence just to watch pirate show

== Personal Update ==

Some of you have heard, I got the COVID so I may be in and out over the next several days, I'm still trying to make sure I get to recaps though so don't worry! I'll let you know if I can't. Remember to mask up if you can and stay hydrated out there luvs!

== Love Notes ==

Alright lovelies. We've run out of Rhys videos for a few days so you're back to me being irritatingly loving at you! I saw this today on The Latest Kate's instagram and it reminded me of a few things I wanted to say. My brain is a bit covid-fogged so apologies if it's a bit wibbly wobbly.

We all struggle with so many little and big things in our lives. Whether it's mental health, self esteem, a physical ailment, love, lonliness, self-identity, family, friends, world conflicts, or anything, I could go on and on.

I know sometimes it feels like you are pushing so hard and you start making so much progress-- and then something, big or little stalls everything and you feel like you're having to start from scratch again.

I just want to send you a gentle reminder that progress isn't always linear. Just because you have lost momentum doesn't mean you've lost your progress. Every single situation is a learning opportunity and every time you run into a new hurdle, you learn from the last one.

You are wonderfully intelligent, kind, precious, complex people and no matter what you're dealing with, no matter how small or how big, you are moving forward and making headway bits at a time. Remember to be kind to yourself and don't beat yourself up for bad days.

We are so proud of you lovelies, remember that.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's gifs are courtesy of the glorious, brilliant, talented, ever-enabling @celluloidbroomcloset from her post over here.

Ok, Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight all! <3

#daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #daily ofmd recaps #rhys darby #david jenkins #taika waititi #our flag means death #ofmd #save ofmd #save our flag means death #save ofmd crew #adopt our crew

[ghostlygeto]

elevator | james wilson

pairing: james wilson x fem!reader

warnings: more selfship! it’s all i write basically hehe, forced proximity, reader is referred to w she/her, reader is snippy and wilson is awkward, no romance just awkwardness, reading panics a little cos in small space, wilson comforts her, HAPPY ENDING :D but not romance. house’s shenanigans. not proof read….

word count: 2.1k

it was simple. walk from the morgue to the elevator, get off on the first floor, go to your car. at least it should be that easy. though for some reason this was always the hardest part of your day. it was the time you’re the most likely to see wilson, which made it the hardest.

you checked your phone, the time reading 10:07pm. technically he should be home by now. he usually tried to get all his things done and leave by 7:45pm. at least he used to. you hadn’t spoken to him in ages, not since the night you called him crying. but that was close to a year and a half ago now, maybe even two. you tried not to keep track, you realized after awhile that it caused more harm than good.

regardless, you make your way toward the elevator. first before you can leave you have to stop by house’s office, as he requested an autopsy report on one of the bodies recently brought down (why didn’t he do it himself you would never understand) and requested it be hand delivered, of course. you weren’t sure when you started giving in to his obscene requests and dealing with his sub-par personality again but you had, and unfortunately you weren’t hating it.

in a way it brought a sense of normalcy back. as much as you may hate to admit it.

“house,” you pushed his office door open, a little surprised to still see him here. “here’s the autopsy report you asked for.” you held up the folder and set it down on his desk. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yep. tomorrow.” house raised his eyebrows and gave a fake smile, “have a good night!” there was something hidden in his tone, but you chose to ignore that for the time being. it didn’t matter now, you were going home. that is what mattered right now.

you turned your back to him, trying not to overthink the way that house was talking. you had known house long enough to know that most of the time he had ulterior motives. rarely did they include you, but you knew better than to think you were safe.

you pushed the elevator button to take you to the main floor, sighing as you heard footsteps behind you. because of course you couldn’t just ride the elevator on your own. the universe just didn’t work that way, not for you.

the elevator doors opened and it wasn’t until you pushed the lobby button that you saw the other person in the elevator.

“wilson,” you nod your head, forcing a smile as a greeting. the elevator ride would be two minutes, max. but god the idea of having to stand here with him for even that long made your stomach churn.

it’s not like it was your first time seeing him in three years. you work in the same building; even if he is on the fifth floor and you’re in the basement there are moments of overlap. catching glimpses of each other in the corner of your eyes or seeing each other in the cafeteria. but it was your frist time being in such close quarters to each other as soon as the doors closed you felt like you were suffocating. it was miserable.

wilson didn’t say anything in response. you didn’t turn to look at him, but you can imagine that he had his brows furrowed trying to figure out what you were doing on the fifth floor and what he could say to you to make things feel less tense. the answer to the second question was nothing.

“it’s late, what are you-” wilson’s sentence was cut off by the shake of the elevator stopping. both of your eyes shot up to the screen that showed what floor you were on, but it just flashed it’s lights at you.

great. of course the elevator decided to get stuck right now, at 10pm, when you were alone with wilson.

“are you serious,” you grumbled, hitting the door with the palm of your hand a few times before repeatedly pressing the lobby button. “of course this would happen. just my luck.” you rested your forehead on the cool metal, trying to calm yourself down. this was fine. everything is fine.

“i’m sure whatever the issue is they’ll have fixed soon.” wilson attempted to comfort you, knowing you already hate elevators as-is. he couldn’t have known that his words were only going to make you feel worse, the very sound of his voice making your stomach churn.

“right.” you nodded, correcting your posture and moving away from the door. the two of you stood in silence for two minutes before you gave in and sat down, putting your head between your knees.

wilson watched you carefully, clearing his throat and beginning to speak as he did so. “so, y/n. how- how have things been?”

“i’d prefer if you call me l/n,” you answer quickly, “things have been fine. i’m fine.” you could see the way he frowned from the corner of your eye when you asked him to call you by your last name. you didn’t want to have conversation, and you didn’t want him to treat you like a friend. because you were coworkers. nothing more, nothing less.

“don’t be that way,” he sighed, leaning against the opposite elevator wall and sinking to the ground. “you’re seriously going to make me call you by your last name?”

“why would you call me anything else?” you ask, tone harsher than intended. why were you being this way? maybe it was a defense mechanism, “you don’t call house greg, and he’s your best friend. i don’t see why you’d call me anything other than l/n. we’re coworkers.”

coworkers. that drew a scoff from wilson, “coworkers? that’s how you want to describe us?” wilson looked away from you for a second before running a hand through his hair. “i guess not talking for close to three years does take us back to square one. you’re right.”

“don’t do that,” you sneer, looking at him to meet his questioning gaze. “don’t say the you’re right thing to me. you only say that when you have something else to say. if you’re thinking something, just say it, wilson.”

wilson looked at you bewildered for a second before laughing, “jeez, you really still know me that well?” he shook his head, “i don’t think time can turn us back into coworkers, is all. i don’t think we’ll ever be back to just that.”

“strangers, then?” you offer, uncharacteristically cold. maybe you’d been spending too much time around dead people to remember how to socialize properly. or worse, too much time with house.

“quit being like that.” he shook his head at you, “just because we haven’t spoke doesn’t erase all our history as friends and…” he fell silent for a second before clearing his throat again. “beside the point, we aren’t strangers or just coworkers and you know that, l/n.”

you wanted to argue with him more, but you didn’t have it in you. not when you felt like the walls were shrinking with every breath you took. “fine.” you didn’t say anything else for a few seconds before speaking up again. “how’s your wife?”

wilson stiffened. bad, then.

“we actually never got married. she decided a few months before the wedding that she couldn’t handle being married to a man who is at work so much.” wilson rolled his eyes, “as if she didn’t have all the time in the world to decide that. had to wait until we were about to get married, right? how are things with your boyfriend?”

“i broke up with him shortly after…” you paused, knowing that the answer was shortly after the phonecall you two shared god knows how long ago. “i told my therapist about him, and she said that i should be with people who make me happy. not miserable. so i broke up with him.”

“i see.” wilson nodded, picking up on the fact that you were keeping part of the information from him. it didn’t matter, though, it wasn’t really his business. aside from the fact that he still cared about you, he had no reason to push for more details. “good for you, then.”

silence overcame the two of you once again, looking at the clock on your phone in hopes that it would somehow make the elevator magically work again.

it didn’t.

“it’s been ten minutes,” you groan, “what is taking them so long? you don’t think we’re like…stuck stuck do you?” you looked over at him, panic filled eyes as the thought sneaks its way into your head.

“why, you have somewhere important to be?” he raised an eyebrow before getting serious. “no, if we were stuck stuck i think cuddy would’ve called one of us by now. probably just an issue with something electrical. we’ll be out of here soon.”

you sigh, resting your cheek on your knee. “i have no one to be other than my bed it’s just…” you wonder if saying this is the right thing, but it seemed there was nothing better to do than to talk to each other. “being around you is hard. i feel like i’m going to explode. i want to explode.” you look at him, the slightly bewildered look making a smile creep up on you. “and making stupid small talk is killing me. it’s hard to be normal around you because i’m not sure what normal should be with us.”

wilson paused for a second. to be honest, he also didn’t know what normal was supposed to be between the two of you. but he wanted you to be comfortable with him. at the very least he wanted to be friends again. “i don’t know either. but we won’t know until we try, right? even if we have to relearn what normal means for us. we can do it. i’m- i’m willing to try. for you.”

“quit looking at me like that,” you roll your eyes a little, almost laughing as he feigns offense. “i suppose, maybe, i’d be willing to try and relearn. for you.”

a smile broke out on wilson’s face as his shoulders dropped, relief clear in his eyes. “things’ll be good. being friends will be good.” he sounded like he was trying to assure both of you (because he was) of the fact.

it seemed on cue that as you two made amends, the elevator started working again. you both sighed happily and stood from your places on the floor, relieved to be out of the metal death trap.

“i’m never getting in another elevator,” you mumbled, dusting any debris off your lab coat as the door opened. “i’ll see you soon, james.” you waved to him, quickly making your way out of the building and to your car. you passed house on the way, silently wondering how long he had been waiting in the lobby for wilson.

“so,” house tapped his cane against the ground as he approached wilson, watching you walk away. “how’d it go in there?”

“you had something to do with the elevator?” wilson wanted to be surprised, but at this point he was so used to house’s antics that he should’ve guessed it from the start. “you are unbelievable. you know she hates small spaces, you could’ve caused her serious issues-”

“but you were there with her. she would’ve been fine.” house rolled his eyes as the two of them started walking, “i was tired of both of you moping around. it was clear neither of you were going to make the effort, so i did it for you.”

wilson looked to his older friend bewildered, “you did something for the better of two other people? and you don’t get anything out of it? jeez, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you were a clone.”

“i am a clone,” house replied quickly, “and i do get something out of it. i get to be done hearing your longing sighs as you watch her walk past, and i get to stop seeing her stupid pouty eyes when she sees you in the cafeteria.” he paused, “do you want to get something to eat?”

“sure, house.” wilson accepted the offer, despite knowing he’d probably be the one to pay. “whatever you say.”

comments, reblogs, nd likes appreciated!!

#james wilson x reader #house md x reader #dr james wilson x reader #mine !! #jami !! #wilson x reader

[whorekneecentral]

scenes in book where the male oc fingers the female oc in front a mirror and asks her to watch it have me screaming, could you please write one with lewis or jack?

-jg anon

I feel like I've been writing so much football so im gonna write it with lewis <3

Lewis had been away for a triple header and work was keeping you home and away from your boyfriend. You missed him more than anything but it was Sunday night, well, technically Monday morning as it was past midnight and your boyfriend wasn’t gonna be home until noon. 

The bed welcomed you, soft and warm as you dropped onto it. You snuggled into Lewis’s sweater, his cologne lingering on it and you can’t help but run a hand over it. If he was home, he would tease you about how cute you looked in his sweater, how you get turned on just by the smell of his cologne. 

Your hand wandered and ended up between your legs, the wet patch evident on your panties. You can’t the hand that slips down the front of your panties, slowly rubbing circles on your clit. 

Lewis had taken an early flight, the race didn’t end as expected and he wasn’t in a mood to stick around. The house was quiet as he ventured down the hallway towards the bedroom. 

He could see the light from the lamp next to the bed through the slightly opened door. He couldn’t miss the way his name fell past your lips. 

Maybe you were dreaming. 

Lewis peeks into the room; you were definitely awake. Head tossed back on the pillows, his sweater on you and your hand down your panties. You were clearly getting rid of today's stress. 

He steps into the bedroom quietly, leaning on the wall by the door and watches you. Your eyes closed and you’ve got two fingers in you. He smiles to himself, watching as you curl them, trying to mimic the way he does it. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arched off the bed. It can’t possibly be that good, he thinks to himself. 

“Lew please,” the words tumble past your lips and he can’t stop himself. 

“Need something ?” He asks and he's never seen you sit up so fast. Your legs closed but your hand is still down your panties. 

“When- I thought you were getting in tomorrow ?” 

“Took an early flight,” He tells you, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. You hum, unsure what was really happening. You were sleeping obviously, you’re dreaming this. 

Lewis pushes your legs apart, “keep going.” 

His eyes fixed on you, watching as your fingers moved slowly. Lewis tsks, “come on sweetheart, I know you can do better than that.” He tells you, pulling your panties to the side to get a better view.

You shake your head, “no. Can’t do it like you,” you tell him.

Lewis chuckles before he gets up and moves the mirror you had hanging off the closet door and props it to lean on the wall in front of the bed. It was tall enough that you could see yourself even though you were on the bed. Lewis pulls you down the bed by your legs, making you giggle.

“What ?” You ask him, watching as he moves to sit behind you.

He ignores your question, pulling your panties down to let it drop onto the floor. His fingers brush across your pussy, your head dropping back on his shoulder. Your boyfriend’s free hand grips your chin, pulling you to look in the mirror.

“Watch.”

“Lewis-” “No. You said no one does it like me, so watch.”

Lewis has two fingers in you, curling up and no matter how much you want to close your eyes or look away, you can’t bring yourself too. He knows your body like the back of his hand and he knows you're close. 

“Look,” he whispers to you as he lets you ride his fingers, his thumb pressed to your clit. “So pretty like this, legs spread like a little whore for me.” 

#this ran from me sorry lmao #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #jg anon <3

[stellaris-archivum]

pride (and the excess thereof)

detained chapter 4 update here!

very amazing art by @domiiiq312!! (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠)

Chapter Preview:

"Are you going to work yourself until the verge of collapse again?" He said with a certain conviction in his voice. "I absolutely don't want Detective Novikov to condescendingly yell at me because I let you push yourself too much. It's only been the first day since this case has been assigned to you. Calm the fuck down. Not everyday you get to serve the justice the victims deserve. You don't have to gather all the possible information that you could on the first day. There’s a tomorrow coming, [Y/N], stop working as if you’ll die today. Now, we're technically off duty so we're not co-workers right now. You're not the primary at the moment. I'm the older than you, and you'll do as I say." 

He kept his cold, piercing gaze at her, his demeanor becoming more and more similar to that of Deadeye's—cold, calculating, and cunning. But it was that Deadeye that she asked him to sit down for a while and talk for a minute.

It was that Deadeye. The Deadeye who seemed engulfed with whatever was going on in his head, was serious and was a huge contrast to who he was now. It almost felt like a splash of cold water had been thrown at her face. What has gotten into him, bringing our past conversation into this? She blinked, feeling her throat run dry as the heavy silence hung between them. His eyes were still pointed at her, and she could only sigh. "Okay. Fine. I'll chill out."

Chamber nodded, letting out a few deep breaths to calm himself down. As the silence hung and the tension thickened, the gravity of Sasha's words earlier was starting to weigh on him—You are one cruel man, Vincent. Maybe he was a little cruel, but who was he to know that his actions would affect others indirectly? Who knew that letting her chase him for those 4 or 5 years would have consequences?

He knew that. He just chose to ignore it. The poor woman had to work nonstop to find and track him down above her other cases, and in a way, he felt bad. So now, he would change that by not letting her get too caught up with the case.

Vincent let out a final sigh, and having calmed down, he jammed his keys into the ignition, and the car started humming to life. The radio was off, the engine revved gently, and none of them said a word as Chamber joined the road traffic as he silently drove off.Meanwhile, [Y/N] felt really uneasy. It was then that she realized that maybe he might only be putting up with her. He wasn’t asking her to stop and rest out of concern—he was asking her because he didn’t want to be lectured by Sasha. It’s obvious that, as enemies, Chamber probably still held a grudge against her for almost foiling his undercover mission a handful of times; it would be really weird and out of character if he suddenly cared about her. Hell, he might as well not give a damn if she collapses if it weren’t for Sasha, but her thoughts didn't align with his actions earlier. Why was he so worked up into scolding her? Did Sasha say something to him? Wasn't it just convenient that her newfound power wasn't coming to her aid right now? She continued to ponder over his actions, digging deeper and deeper into her subconscious.

#stellaris-detained #stellaris-ao3 #valorant #valorant x reader #valorant chamber #vincent fabron #chamber valorant #valorant art #chamber #valorant chamber x y/n #chamber x you #valorant chamber x reader #chamber x reader #HOLY SHIT I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO UPDATE SJHFJEBFJABEFJ

[rehfan]

La Belle Dame avec Merci -- Chapter 4: The Cosmos Intervenes

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; female masturbation; male masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best; 

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / @mewchiili / @chaoticgood-munson /

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST

MASTERPOST LINK – AO3 LINK

*****************************************

Sadie Hawkins dance was tomorrow. All your friends had either asked other boys or were going as a group. And of course you were included in the group. Hell, you were expected in the group. Sighing, you stared at your reflection in your bedroom mirror. You hated how you left things with Eddie.

A day and a half had come and gone and he hadn’t really spoken to you. But then, you didn’t know what to say to him. When he left biology, he left school. And he hadn’t come back. After your French class, you overheard Jeff telling Gareth that he took today off too. Gareth wasn’t happy with the news. “Fuck! He said we’d go to Cosmo’s tonight for the listening party. It was supposed to be this big deal.”

Jeff shrugged, “He might still come. It’s not school and the Ice Queen won’t be there.”

Well that was a punch in the gut. Eddie clearly wanted to avoid you. You weren’t sure who Cosmo was, but you felt guilty that that last kiss caused Eddie to freak out and, as a consequence, may have ruined the boys’ plans. Maybe this Cosmo could be a good go-between to bring Eddie and you back together? Not to continue your ruse, but just to make sure he didn’t hate you forever. You couldn’t live with that.

You sidled up to the boys in the hall. “Uh. Hey,” you started and they turned to look at you, the interloper. “Who’s Cosmo?”

“What? One more thing you’ve got to know to weasel your way into Ed’s life?” asked Gareth, clearly defensive. “You’ve fucked him up enough, don’t you think?”

“I told him women are trouble,” said Jeff.

“Shit, he’s the one who told us that women were trouble,” said Gareth with a huff and a smirk. To you, he said, “Why don’t you leave him alone? Huh? He never asked for you to be hanging around. Besides, we all know you don’t really mean this shit. You’re just playing along to make all the jock dudes crazy and to make the girls not think you’re a virgin.”

You swallowed hard and tried not to blush. Eddie had obviously told Hellfire all about your plan. “So,” you said, “what you’re telling me is that it’s actually working?” You gave them a cheesy smile, hoping your charm would win you at least a snicker of laughter, but they gazed at you, dull-eyed and stone faced. “Or not.” You backed off. “Listen, he hasn’t spoken to me in almost two days. And I haven’t spoken to him.”

“Yeah,” said Jeff, “he took off because you kissed him in class. I saw you two. Everyone did. Thought your play acting was only reserved for the hallways.”

“Hey. Wait. He kissed me, if you must know. Up until then-“

“Yeah, up until you decided to push things. Next thing you know, you’ll have tricked him into taking you to fuckin’ Sadie Hawkins,” said Gareth, “You are really the fucking limit, you know. Using a guy just so the school won’t think you’re this virgin queen. I mean, are you really that fucking selfish that you’ve got to go around using people to make those party kids and jocks think you’re normal like them? Fucking pathetic loser.” He punctuated his rant with a slamming of his locker.

You went home that day feeling like the pathetic, needy loser Gareth said you were and having gotten no closer to making things up to Eddie than you did two days ago. Maria sat next to you as always. She lived three streets away from you just outside of the Loch Nora neighborhood and you had a car. It was a no-brainer that you two would carpool to school and back every day. 

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Maria, knowing full well that you and Eddie had been on the outs for at least a day. If Maria had a middle name, it was “Gossip”. Nothing passed her notice for long. You rolled your eyes at her comment, but decided that she could have her uses after all.

“Who’s Cosmo?” you asked.

“Huh? Cosmo? No one at school is called Cosmo. Oh! Are you talking about the old hippie dude who owns the new record store on the other side of town? I think his name’s Cosmo. Truthfully, your boyfriend might know him better. But yeah, Mirage Records and Music is the name of the place. At Washington and Fair Streets? Where the Kenyon Department Store used to be? Big place. Myra Turnbull said she went there and it was like Sam Goody’s only humongous and a little grubby. I guess they kept the old wooden floors.”

You could have laughed out loud. It was the same place that you got the guitar strings for Eddie. And she was right: the place was massive. Two stories tall, old-fashioned listening booths along one wall. All kinds of music on all kinds of mediums: vinyl, cassette, CDs, and even a few ‘gently used’ 8-tracks. The second story sold musical instruments, sheet music, and musical supplies. Frankly, grubbiness aside, Cosmo’s place was a little too good for the likes of rural Hawkins, Indiana. And you met the man. He’s the one who sold you the damn strings!

Maria went on and on about Myra and you let her. You had tuned her completely out. You knew that after you dropped her off, you were headed straight to Cosmo’s to see if you could fix things between you and Eddie.

~080~

Eddie hadn’t wanted to go to school for the last day and a half and so he didn’t. Wayne was used to him playing hooky and as long as it wasn’t for more than three school days in a row, he was cool with it. So Eddie spent the days working on characters, digging up old figurines and cleaning them off, discovering loose die in his dresser drawers and gathering them all up in a glass mason jar he found in the kitchen, and other distracting things he could do that kept him busy, but didn’t represent actual work. He spent the days doing all of that but it was no use. 

What he didn’t want to do was think about your eyes. Or that kiss. Or the feeling of you under his hands. That same feeling that now made his palm itchy to touch you again. He didn’t want to think about the sex. All the late night conversations. All the dreams he had for musical success that you would support while you both made a living doing ordinary shit. He didn’t want to think about your smile when he told you about the record contract. Your wedding. Your dress. Your happy tears. He didn’t want to dwell on the thought of the swell of your tummy as you prepared for your first child together.

“Forget her, goddamn it,” he muttered as he yanked open another dresser drawer and rifled the things around listening for the telltale sound of a plastic die rattling underneath his clothes. Nothing there. Missing, just like you.

He slammed it shut with a grunt and sat heavily on his bed. He almost crushed some school papers with his ass. Irritated, he pulled them from beneath him, tearing the edge of one of the pages. It was the one with Keats’ poem on it that Hutch had given him. He read it again.

La Belle Dame sans Merci

by John Keats

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful—a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna-dew,

And sure in language strange she said—

‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,

And there she wept and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried — ‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gapéd wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

He had had Hutch tell him what ‘la belle dame sans merci’ meant in English and he had to admit, Hutch had been right. You truly were a beautiful woman without thanks or mercy. That knight was just as hooked as his fictional one had been. As hooked as he was.

“Stupid ass,” he said, stalking to his dresser where Sweetheart hung waiting for his fingers. He tossed the paper on the dresser and looked in the mirror. “Why couldn’t you see what she was?” He had been talking about the knight in the poem, but clearly he was staring at himself as well. And as if to answer, his reflection looked at him helplessly.

Then he got angry. All the hurt he had suffered from all the girls who had ever kissed him and laughed later about it with their friends, all the shoulder shoves he had gotten for being the weird kid, all the fun made over the drawings that accidentally fell from his folder when he was shoved into the lockers, all the pointing and giggles, all the unkindness thrown his way, all the snotty rich kids who saw him as a necessary evil to get weed for their ski party weekend at their parent’s mountain home during winter break or the beach trip they had planned for summer, smiling disgustedly at him when they opened all their folding money and only peeled off a few bills to throw at him when he handed over the baggie. The hateful names, the dirty looks, the punches, the insults, the humiliations…each and every one of those moments billowed up from his past and washed through him causing hot tears to sting his eyes as he thought about how you had fucked him over like all the rest until it resulted in that final exposing humiliation. You used him and then suckered him into a real kiss with real feelings involved in it. You were evil. Pure fucking evil.

He had been an idiot. He should have trusted his instincts about you. And now all he could think about was you. All he wanted was more of you. He saw his reflection and saw his mouth form a hard line. Just like his dad’s had always done. Suddenly, his father was there towering over him as he cowered before him, his mother standing his way, blocking his father from taking out his anger on her little boy. He heard him hit her, heard her fall; he had shut his eyes against it moments before. He heard him shout. He heard her cry then beg. Then he’d hit her again calling her pathetic.

He blinked away the tears, rubbing at his eyes with a rough hand. That was it; he had to stay away from you. The anger he felt was too much. And he refused to become his father. No way was he going to be around you anymore. Not if you made him like that. The last thing he wanted was to become a monster. Not ever. Not ever.

The phone in the kitchen was ringing. There’s only two callers that could be: Wayne or Hellfire. He would be happy with either at the moment. He cleared his throat and tamped down his frustrated tears. Breathing deeply, he picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“You still coming to Cosmo’s or are you still dealing with your fucking menstrual cramps?”

Gareth.

“Fuck you. I don’t duck an appointment with the Cosmos,” he said, using his nickname for Cosmo the hippie. “I said I’d be there and I’m going to be there. Is your mommy able to take you, or do I need to pick up your sorry ass?”

“I got a ride. The rest of the fellas too,” said Gareth. By the slightly subdued tone of his voice Eddie could tell that Gareth’s mom was indeed going to drop her precious little boy off.

“Cool,” said Eddie, “One less thing for me to worry about. See you there at seven.”

“See ya,” said Gareth, “And oh yeah. One more thing: your girlfriend’s been sniffing around. Asking about you.”

His heart skipped. Fuck. He cleared his throat in an effort to gain control. “Has she?” he asked finally. It almost sounded convincingly nonchalant.

“Don’t wet your panties. Jeff and I told her off. She’s not going to bother you again.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” said Gareth. In the background he heard Jeff say something.

“What was that?”

“Jeff says she turned tail. She knows we know what’s been going on between you two and how fake it all is. She’s fucking pathetic. And thanks to us, she’s off your back. You can thank us when we see you tonight. Later, man.”

There was a click and a dial tone in Eddie’s ear. He hung up the receiver and stared at the phone. “Well. Thank God that’s over.”

It was three hours until he had to head out. He supposed he could pick up a few pizzas and some pop and bring it to Cosmo’s along with his weed. The dude was turning out to be his best customer. He would have to make sure he had plenty to bring. Guy went through weed like Eddie went through underwear. And he had to remember the character sheets. He wondered if Gareth would think to pack that last D&D playbook that he had loaned him. He wondered what pizza toppings everyone would like. He wondered if there was extra if he could bring it home to Wayne. Wayne would like that. He wondered what pizza toppings you liked. He wondered where you were and what you were doing and what you must have thought about the boy who kissed you and ran away.

All these thoughts passed through his head in the few scant seconds he stood stock still staring at the phone, willing it to ring again. He wanted it to be Gareth telling him that he was full of shit, that he never spoke to you or told you off, that it was all a joke and haha what an idiot he was! But it didn’t ring. It didn’t ring with you on the other line either. You and your warm voice cooing some dumb nickname at him. You with your mouth so perfect and smeared with that watermelon Chapstick. Your voice asking him where he’s been and why he kissed you and then ran away.

No. No. He needed to never see you again. He couldn’t trust himself. His temper was too much and you were too aggravating. You couldn’t be trusted. No. He would put you away like his dice, safe in a jar somewhere, far from the harm he could cause and far away so you wouldn’t cause him harm either.

Yeah. That was a good plan.

~080~

You wished you had had Eddie’s number. It would have made things so much easier. Or knowing where he lived? You knew it was the trailer park, but you weren’t about to go knocking on doors if you didn’t see his van. That would be weird. Plus, just showing up on his doorstep was borderline creepy, so it was this or nothing.

As you pulled into a free parking space across the street from the main entrance to Mirage Records and Music, you blew out a long breath and stared at the store. It was almost five and the place closed soon. Just like small town Hawkins to have their businesses shut down when the sun hit the horizon.

It took only a moment to cross the street and open the door. A wave of patchouli and sandalwood passed over you, but it suited the place. You saw it with different eyes now. The first time you came in, you wended your way through the rows and rows of vinyl and CDs moving to the lady behind a counter where a glass case held vintage vinyl and rare albums for sale. She had pointed you up the stairs to the second floor. A red neon sign shaped like an arrow with script writing that said “this way” was mounted on the wall as you had ascended and passed into what you had to imagine was every musician’s wet dream.

At the top of the stairs, behind you and to the left, two full drum kits were set up on either side of a defunct freight elevator with caution tape across it and a sign that said: OUT OF ORDER. Surrounding them were all kinds of drums on display as well. Cymbals of various shapes and sizes hung on the walls behind them like gold records. Your eyes moved along from left to right. Keyboards were on display along with an upright piano and a baby grand along the next wall. And on the third and fourth walls? Guitars. Guitars of every description. Rows and rows of them.

The first time, you were too focused on your shopping objective. This time, you marveled at the collection. There were amps set up beside soft-looking chairs scattered about the space, encouraging people to touch and play and try out the instrument once the treasured item was retrieved from the wall by the large bearded gent who was reading a magazine in one cushioned corner near the sheet music.

“Can I help you?” he said, rising from his seat. “Oh! It’s you! Back again?” He was a jolly sort, with wild grey hair matching his unkempt grey beard, a barrel-chested, big-bellied hippie in a distracting yellow Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and Birkenstock sandals.

“Hello again, sir,” you said and stopped, stuck. What exactly were you going to ask him? Hey, do you know this kid I go to school with? Can you get him to like me again? Or at least talk to me?

“Are you here for more guitar equipment? We got in some pick-ups just yesterday-“

“No,” you said, wringing your hands, “I have a friend - the same friend I was shopping for before - he and his friends from school are all supposed to come here today to meet with you?”

“Oh! The Corroded Coffin boys! Sure! Are you a fan of theirs?” he asked, peering at you from over his purple-tinted John Lennon glasses. “Or- uh-“ he winked, “are you a groupie?”

The blush that came over you must have turned you crimson because the man just chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, “I had to. It was too good to resist.”

You laughed nervously and cleared your throat. “No. I- uh… Well Eddie and I had a sort of weird thing happen between us a couple of days or so ago and he’s been avoiding school since then and I just want to apologize to him and-“

“Say no more,” he said, holding out his palms toward you in a surrendering gesture. “An affair of the heart is always difficult to navigate.”

“Well, it’s not really that-“

“Nonsense. You like him enough to come here knowing that he’s supposed to be here so you can talk to him and patch things up?” You nodded. He shrugged and smiled “Then it’s an affair of the heart. Don’t you see?”

“Cosmo!” called the lady from downstairs. She was shouting up the stairwell.

Cosmo fairly skipped over to the edge of the railing to shout back down. “Brenda, my love?” He spoke to her like he was Romeo and she was Juliet. Only he was the one on the balcony.

“Gonna lock up,” she said, sounding grouchy, “You still expecting those kids?”

“Yes, my angel.”

“Fine. I’ll leave out the sign to tell them to press the bell.”

“You are an absolute treasure, dearest one.”

“Oh, blow it out your ear. See you tomorrow.”

You had to know. The woman didn’t sound mad at him for calling her those things, she just sounded bored with him. “Is that your wife?”

Cosmo’s laugh was deep and rich. A hippie Santa Claus. “No,” he said, “Brenda just works here. Tolerates me. Sells my wares. And then fucks off home to her lover Cara. Don’t tell the morality police in this town. She and Cara would be run out on a rail.”

He turned from the stairwell and looked you up and down. “You’re a top-40 kid, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Well, we’ll soon fix that,” he said. “Come with me.” He moved down the stairs with a swiftness that belied his appearance. He wasn’t tall, just under six foot you judged, but nimble as a dancer, despite his belly and gray hair.

He led you downstairs past the listening booths and to the jazz section. “Are you familiar with any of the classics here?”

“My gramps listens to jazz, big band, and swing,” you offered.

“Excellent!” he said. “You come from good stock then. What about grandmama?”

“Mostly folk music,” you shrugged, idly flipping through some vinyl. “But I know these: Ella Fitzgerald, Chet Baker, and Louis Armstrong.”

“And what of the blues?” he asked, waving a hand toward the section in question.

“Mom listens to a little Janis. But I know about the Blues Brothers. Do they count?”

He laughed again, long and loud. “You have a good sense of humor. But yeah, that’s a good start: BB King, Cab Calloway, Aretha, Ray Charles, John Lee Hooker… all of them on the soundtrack and most in the film. And Janis,” here he sighed deeply, “my first rock and roll crush. Died tragically. Senselessly. S’why I only stick to weed. But in case your parents ask: I didn’t tell you that. Like Nancy Reagan says: just say no to drugs.” He winked at you. “But oh it does an old man good to see a youngster appreciate the masters,” he sighed. “What about rock and roll?”

“Billy Joel’s okay,” you said.

Cosmo groaned so loudly, you thought he was having a heart attack. “We were doing so well…” He recovered himself and with a crooked finger he led you to the rock section of the store. “Never mind, there’s always room for education and improvement. Here!” He held up an album with a picture inside of another picture. The smaller inner picture was framed and hung upon a wall with peeling and faded wallpaper. It contained an image of a bearded man slightly bent over on a cane and carrying a pile of sticks on their back in a bundle. There was nothing on the album cover to indicate the band’s name. You shook your head.

“Led Zeppelin?” Cosmo said hopefully.

“I’ve heard of them. Heard them on the radio sometimes, I think? But I’ve never sat down and listened-“

“Perfect!” he said. “This will be part of your musical education this evening.” He rooted around in his collection once more and selected three more albums.

“This evening?” you asked. “I really should be going home after I talk to Eddie. My parents-“

“You can use the store phone to call them now if you want. Tell them you’re here. Tell them you’re safe and with friends. It’s all true- well… almost. Which reminds me,” here he stuck out his hand. You took it dumbly. “Name’s Cosmo Blankenship. Proprietor and owner of The Mirage and purveyor of fine musical wares. And you?” You smiled and gave him your name. “HA! And now it’s true. We are officially friends, well met.” You resisted the urge to curtsey. Barely. He was charming in a very old-fashioned way. It was adorable.

As he went back up the stairs, he told you some of the intimacies of Led Zeppelin’s Fourth Album he had gleaned over the years since its release. “Mind you, I’m not the biggest Led Zep fan. But they are unignorable for their contribution to music as a whole.” He set the record down on a table in one corner where you could see behind him a stereo system setup including a turntable. He carefully unwrapped the album from its resealable plastic covering, slid the record and sleeve out from the cover, slipped off the cover, gave the record a caress with a soft cloth, and then placed it on the turntable. With the tenderness of a lover, he began the machine and lowered the needle onto the disc.

The strains of “Black Dog” came strong out of the speakers. Your eyes lit up. Cosmo beamed at you. “Sit! Sit! Take it in properly!”

You picked a small couch big enough for two and let the music wash over you. Cosmo sat next to you, a surprisingly comforting presence beside you.

I don’t know, but I’ve been told

A big-legged woman ain’t got no soul

The undeniable blues roots of the song just pulled you along. This was music that spoke to you. This had also never happened to you before. It picked you up and passed through you, practically touched your soul. You were breathless. Soon you were nodding your head to the rhythm.

The second song also came at you hard, drums pounding out a rhythm you felt to your bones.

It’s been a long time since the Book of Love

I can’t count the tears of a life with no love

You don’t know when the smile spread across your face, but it was there just the same. “This whole album is magic,” whispered Cosmo, not wishing to disturb your experience as the second song ended and the third began. “They really got a hold of something in that studio. Steeped in Tolkien too.”

“Tolkien?”

“You know? Guy that wrote Lord of the Rings?”

“Oh sure! He wrote The Hobbit as well. Right?”

Cosmo smiled at you. “Just the man!”

“I read The Hobbit and tried to get through Lord of the Rings, but barely made it past the first book. Really complicated and everyone had like, four different names.” Cosmo nodded sympathetically and patted your knee gently.

As the next song played, he said: “You know, Eddie’s favorite book is the Lord of the Rings. And he loved this song when he first heard it. This and “Stairway” are his favorites off this album.”

You could see why. It wove a tale of knights and battles, castles and honor. The disjointed instruments backing vocals that almost wailed in pain. It was a moving piece.

The drums will shake the castle wall

The ringwraiths ride in black

Ride on

When the verse of Stairway to Heaven began, a firebell rang, sharp, loud and jarring. You looked at Cosmo, alarmed. “No worries,” he said, “that’s just the doorbell. The Corroded Coffin boys are here.” He glanced at the clock above the stereo. “Here early too. Huh.” He moved to the stairwell and descended. “Keep listening! I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the stairs.

There’s a sign on the wall

But she wants to be sure

‘Cause you know, sometimes words have two meanings

Your gut twisted. If it was anyone other than Eddie, a fight might break out and you might cry. If it was Eddie, a fight might break out and you might cry. And if it was everyone - Eddie and all his friends - a fight would break out and you would definitely cry.

Yes, there are two paths you can go by

but in the long run

And there’s still time to change the road you’re on

Voices were at the stairwell. You heard Cosmo’s tone above another male voice, but both were too soft to distinguish past the music. It only sounded like one other person though. You held your breath. You wanted to run but all you could do was sit as still as possible and await whatever fate was climbing the stairs.

“Started a bit early, I’m afraid,” Cosmo was saying. The heavy foot treads were distinct: only two people. Your chest was tight; it was hard to breathe. There was a scent in the air mixing with the patchouli incense. Garlic? Whatever it was, you were getting sick. Or maybe it was just your nerves? The music’s rhythm picked up and the guitar solo came in, a perfect soundtrack to your rising panic.

“You brought the food,” said Cosmo, “and I bring the song… and a pretty lady to gaze upon.” Cosmo came by your chair carrying a brown paper bag in his arms. He was followed by Eddie Munson who carried three large pizza boxes in his outstretched hands. His body moved forward, but his head was turned toward you, eyes growing wider as the realization hit him. The music echoed his shift as it moved into a rock groove.

And as we wind on down the road

Our shadows taller than our soul

There walks a lady we all know

Who shines white light and wants to show

How everything still turns to gold

And if you listen very hard

The tune will come to you at-

The needle was pulled off the record.

Eddie had set the boxes down and cut the music off. He stared at you; he was eerily still. Tension filled the air. Even Cosmo was silenced. Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper when he said: “Cosmos? A word?”

Cosmo followed him into a curtained-off back room and you could hear harsh whispering. That had to be Eddie. There was a lower voice in response: Cosmo. Finally, crisply, clearly, commandingly, you heard Cosmo say: “Edward!”

Eddie burst through the curtain. “I want you out of here. You were supposed to be gone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because… it’s not —,” you began. But you couldn’t seem to form a cohesive thought. There were too many moving parts to this. “When you kissed me, I thought — But then you took off so suddenly and I — I couldn’t apologize — But then Gareth and Jeff they — And I know I’m pathetic! This whole thing’s pathetic! And I should never have done it — but I did — and you were so understanding about it at first — willing to play along — and you used gum and didn’t smoke. I noticed! And I was completely flattered but then — I don’t know. You don’t like me, I know that. You don’t want me around, okay, but — I don’t know. Just — just don’t hate me, okay?”

It was a small miracle that you hadn’t broken down in a full-on cry. Cosmo was instantly at your side with a protective hand on your shoulder. “As I said, Edward, the lady wanted to apologize. If you are any kind of a gentleman, you will talk to her.” Eddie opened his mouth to object and Cosmo held up a hand to stop him. “So be it. You give me no choice. It’s the shaft for both of you.” To you he said, soothingly, “Come, my dear. It’s for the best.”

He took each of you by a respective elbow and led you over to the defunct freight elevator in the drums section. He took the warning tape off one side and it and the sign attached fell to the floor. He pressed the call button and the elevator doors opened with a soft hum. “In you go,” he said to you. Dumbly, you obeyed.

“Is it safe?” you asked, remembering at the last minute that you were up one story.

“Oh yes. It’s just stuck. No power to the elevator itself, just the doors, and the brakes have it frozen in place. Going to cost me a fortune to fix, so until then…” Cosmo shrugged. He gestured for Eddie to enter. 

Eddie was more recalcitrant. His arms were crossed as soon as Cosmo had released his elbow and he stood stock still. “I’m not doing time in the shaft with her. I don’t care what she has to say.”

Cosmo evaluated him soberly over the rim of his glasses. “That’s your fear talking.” Eddie huffed dismissively. “Edward. You will enter this freight elevator if I have to beat you senseless with that crash symbol. Now go.” He pointed inward and Eddie looked from him to you.

He shook his head, his mane of hair waggling along with the motion. “Nope. Not doing it. I have nothing to say to her.”

“Then just listen,” said Cosmo. “For God’s sake, man! Take it from a dude who has loved and lost four times! Get the fuck in the shaft and let the lady apologize.”

“That’s just it: this has nothing to do with love. She doesn’t love me. And I may not know much about love, but this isn’t about love. This is about using people. And Jesus Christ, do I know what that looks like! And she’s used me for a stupid and selfish reason and I’m done! She needs to leave me the hell alone. Starting now.”

Eddie didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they felt right. Like a perfectly balanced sword in his hand made just for him. It felt good to say what was hurting his heart so much. But a small part of him hated the sound of the words, the forming and voicing of them was simple, natural, and free. The hearing of them, the tone they took, and the effect on your face was another matter altogether. You were clearly hurt.

You watched all of this from the farthest corner of the elevator like it was a tennis match: Eddie objecting, Cosmo deflecting and returning the serve. If you weren’t directly involved, you might have found it entertaining. But you were involved. Matter of fact, you were at the crux of the conversation and it made you heartsick. “Please, Eddie,” you begged quietly. “I only want to say sorry.” The metal walls made your voice echo, magnifying your pitiful state.

Something in Eddie’s eyes shifted, softened. But only for a moment. “So say it then. And get out. I’ve got to spend time with my real friends.”

“Edward.”

“Call me Edward one more goddamned time, old man!” he snapped at Cosmo.

You didn’t know why you did it. Call it women's intuition. Call it a primal sense of survival. But you knew that if Cosmo pushed again, Eddie would run. You had to act. You came forward and took Eddie’s hand, holding to it firmly with both of yours when he instinctively jerked. “Please, Eddie. It won’t take long. I only want to understand how I’ve hurt you so I can make things better between us. Please let me.”

Your touch surprised him at first, but when he saw your eyes, he didn’t pull away. He fairly whined at the feeling of you. The warmth of you. Your pleading eyes. The wall he had spent almost two days building around his heart crumbled down and, even though he wasn’t focused on your words, he felt his anger fade.

He hated that you had this power over him.

He loved that you had this power over him.

He let you lead him docile as a lamb into the confines of the freight elevator. Cosmo hit the button. Before the doors closed, he said, “I’m starting the album again. You have until the end of Stairway to Heaven to get this done. Fix this. Good luck, children.” The last sentence was spoken with such reverent kindness, it made you want to cry. The last image Cosmo got was of you holding Eddie’s hand in both of yours in the center of the metal-walled space, both of you the picture of unsure, terrified, tentative trust.

#fanfic #writing #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fake relationship #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #slow burn

[ambrossart]

good morning!!! I hope this week is better than your last, I’m looking forward to the next chapter of Paper Men! I was rereading and noticed that it seems, of all her love interests, Patrick is the only one who doesn’t hold her to this impossibly high standard. I was wondering if you did this intentionally (because I can tell everything you’ve written so far has been) or if this could change? I feel like this is partially why I root for Patrick even though he’s bad news, he’s different than Henry and Vic… he’s openly interested in Evelyn and seems to admire her (admire might be a strong word for him) differently than the other guys have been. idk if any of this makes sense lol. just seems unlike Vic and Henry, he doesn’t need Evelyn to be perfect.

Well, tomorrow (or uh… today, technically) is my birthday, so this week is already gonna be better than the last lol. I was just really busy with work last week, and I'm still getting used to my new writing schedule. Normally, I have a little free time during the afternoon to write, but not anymore. Now I have to do all my writing late at night. I don't love that, but I don’t really have a choice.

Anyway, it absolutely was intentional to have Patrick treat Evelyn differently because I want people to understand why someone like Patrick (who, at first glance, probably doesn't seem like Evelyn's type) might appeal to her, especially at this point in her life.

When it comes to relationships, Evelyn is very direct. If she likes someone, either romantically or platonically, it's pretty obvious that she likes them. Evelyn's not good at holding in her emotions, and that, unfortunately, can be overwhelming for a lot of people. We saw that with Victor when they were kids. Evelyn came on very strong right out of the gate and Victor couldn't handle it, so he kept pushing her away until Evelyn eventually gave up and moved on. Then she got “involved” with Henry, which was a slight improvement but came with all kinds of other problems. And you’re right, he does hold her to an impossible standard. Henry demands perfection and absolute loyalty from his partner; otherwise he doesn’t feel safe. That’s all well and good for Henry, but it’s not exactly fair to Evelyn.

Frankly, Evelyn’s exhausted right now. She’s tired of putting all her time and energy into one-sided relationships. She wants to be wanted. She wants to be desired. So now here comes Patrick, who is very consistent and clear about what he wants: he wants her, that’s all. He doesn’t play hard to get. He doesn’t pull away. And he doesn’t place any expectations or restrictions on her. With Patrick, Evelyn can do whatever she wants. She can be clingy and emotional. (In fact, Patrick wants her to be emotional. The guy’s a leech; he feeds off that shit.) She can’t cross a line because Patrick has no boundaries. It’s basically impossible to make that man uncomfortable. That’s gotta be pretty liberating for someone who’s used to walking on eggshells.

Most importantly, Patrick displays a genuine (or at least a seemingly genuine) interest in her, her life, her hobbies. He asks questions. He listens. He remembers. Does he have an ulterior motive? Of course he does, but does that really matter? Eh, I’ll leave that up to you. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Right now, Patrick is exactly what Evelyn needs, and I think if she ever lets her guard down, she’ll be surprised by how attracted to him she really is.

… which is what Patrick is counting on. 😂

#the man is trash #but we like trash here #answered asks #thanks for the ask! #paper men #ambrossart

[nomoreusername]

The Perfect Loss (Modern Au)

I have been on the track team since freshman year. I craved the wind in my hair and the way I felt at the end of a successful race. I was almost the best on my team. There was just one problem, and his name was Minho.

Him and I were neck and neck at every race, and it drives me insane. When he won he'd look at me with that satisfied smirk. When I won I'd give him mock sincerity. Today had to be different though. My cousin had flown in seven states away just to see me. If I didn't win all that money was a waste.

"Hey shank. Ready to lose,"He asked, stretching. "I'll lose the day you give up hairspray,"I shot back. He looked at me in a way I didn't like.

"What?"I snapped. "You're worried about today's race,"He stated. I scoffed at that and pulled my hair back. "I'm not worried about anything slinthead."

"You're worried about today's race,"He repeated, unaffected by my attitude. "No, I'm not. Not get in your lane, and stay there."

I double checked my laces and got into the starting position. He did the same.

"On your mark."

"Something about today is scaring you."

"Get set."

"Shuck off."

"Go!"

I didn't hesitate to start sprinting. My cousin bought a front way ticket just for me. I couldn't let her down.

I could feel my breathing becoming uneven. Technically Coach had said I needed to work on saving my energy, but I paid that no mind. In the back of my head one word was being chanted over and over. 'Win. Win. Win.'

There was already a stitch in my side, and I was only on my second lap. I just needed to get past three more. I was going to win. I didn't have another choice.

♡ - - - ♡

I had just passed my fourth lap, and I was falling behind worse than I ever had. In fact, I was second to last. How was I expected to catch up now? The person behind me was only there because it was their first race.

I kept pushing, but it was becoming too much. My legs were burning more than they ever had before. Even the kid in the back had passed me. I was going to lose.

The world seemed to be in slow motion as Minho crossed the finish line first. Everyone else was seconds behind him. I had given up and was only speed walking now. Coach was yelling from the sidelines, I didn't care. I had just suffered the worst loss of my life.

With a pathetic cross of the finish line I looked at the stands only to find my cousin had left. Honestly, I deserved it. I just had the most horrendous race in history.

Coach was angrily stomping up to me, but I pretended not to see. Without a word I walked out of the entire school. I could get my bad tomorrow. If it got stolen it was just my gym one, and I already had my uniform. Even if I didn't I wouldn't care. I couldn't stay here.

I walked right out the gate and passed everyone. My teammates were probably still in the locker room. Thank God for that. I didn't want anyone to see me like this.

I reached for my keys to get ready to sit in my car and cry. At least that was the plane until I saw Minho already there. He leaning against my car still in uniform.

"If you came here to make fun of me just do it tomorrow. I'm not in the mood."

"I didn't come here to make fun of you."

"Don't lie to me. Just give me my stupid smug look and leave. You can do it in front of everyone if it makes you feel better."

"You had someone in the crowd,"He stated. "That is none of your business,"I snapped. Instead of that unaffected look from last time he looked concerned. It's probably fake.

"Sod off,"I scowled, reaching for my keys. My pockets were empty. They were still in my bag. I was really going to have to go back and forth and face everyone after that.

"Come on. I'll give you a ride,"He offered. "I'll walk,"I shrugged, not having any energy left.

"it wasn't a request. I'm not leaving until you're in the car."

"That sounds like a threat,"I pointed out. "Just come on. I know you're not going to go back in they locker room." Realizing he wasn't going to quit I followed him to his car.

"Seatbelt,"He instructed. Normally I would roll my eyes, but I was too worn out. "My address is-"

"We're not going there. I'm taking you somewhere else."

"Why?"I asked. "Because I always go there when I lose a race,"He told me. "You? You of all people go somewhere to be cheered up after you lose?"I asked. "Yeah. No one in our school goes there because it's older."

"Is it the old diner?"I asked. "You ruined the surprise, but yes. How'd you know?"He asked. "I go there after I lose a race too,"I admitted. "Seriously?"He asked. "Well, yeah. It's nice to-"

"No. I mean I'd never know. You seem so nonchalant after."

"What am I supposed to do? Cry?"I pointed out. "Good point."

Pulling up into the old diner I went to get out until he stopped me. "Wait,"He said. I looked at him weird but only undid my seatbelt. In the most cliche way ever he opened the door.

"Really? That's a bit overboard,"I commented. "It's not. Now let's go,"He said, holding out his hand. I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to kill you."

I accepted his hand and walked in with him. Harriet was already behind the counter and clearly bored out of her mind.

When she saw us her entire demeanor changed. She perked up and suddenly looked very invested in being here. "Wow. This is new,"She remarked. I gave her a shrug. "Then again you guys always choose the same booth. It was just cleaned so you know where to go."

It turns out we did in fact sit in the same booth. It was odd how many little things we had in common. "Do you want to tell me who was in the stands?"He asked. "Not really. I don't even know if she'll be there when I get home,"I admitted quietly. I was nervous just thinking about it. When I get nervous I bite my nails.

"You're going to make them bleed,"He told me, casually taking my hand in his. It wasn't like me, but I was suddenly nervous for a very different reason. I don't know why, but I'd figure it out later. For the first time I feel okay after losing, and it's because of the person I would never expect.

Maybe I wouldn't give him mock sincerity when he loses. Maybe just maybe I would be the one to drive him here.

#the maze runner #tmr minho #modern au #one shot #minho oneshot #maze runner

[mamahersh]

Alrighty everyone, time for my thoughts on the last 3 eps of the Magnus Archives. I’ll post my thoughts on S5 and the series as a whole in a separate post, to be made either later today or potentially tomorrow.

This got really long, so I’ll put it under a Read More so I don’t clutter your dash.

TL;DR: loved the ending, had a thought or two; and look forwards to one more post where I basically write my thoughts on the series either later today or tomorrow!

So, MAG 198: Yes, that edge of the cliff fear is definitely rather unsubtle. Particularly in regards to their imminent choice. Also, have to say, I think Jon is entitled to being a little bitch about the cliff domain when he had to deal with a free fall domain via Mike Crew back in season 3. It is morbidly amusing that when Martin hears that his choices are: jump off the cliff to my pseudo death now or jump off the cliff after Jon talks at length about how terrifying watching people jump off the cliff is, he takes the jump immediately option. Listen, I’m sure Jon would have too if he had a choice, but alas Eye is hungee and Jon’s gotta be the mouth for a bit.

Also, big sad that the cultists all got stolen again while Georgie and Melanie had to listen to their screams.

MAG 199: You know they actually discussed that far more than I thought they were going to. So a misnomer that I’ve picked up on in fanfiction is that I thought there would be a less even handed evaluation of the situation. However, Basira did a good job at forcing everyone to discuss all possible avenues of discussion. However, I find it interesting that Basira draws the line at deliberate mass murder. That sounds terrible out of context I will admit, but up until this point she’s been rather willing to entertain a rather wide selection of options when it boils down to difficult choices. But in this one instance when given the choice between basically committing mass euthanasia/genocide and passively letting people suffer till their “natural” end she refuses to entertain the idea that the first is even an option. And she’s been keeping “just let an entire world of people suffer for an incomprehensible amount of time till the End finally finds them” on the table next to the other amazing /s option “send the horror terrors to upwards of infinite alternate universes to wreak havoc on unprepared innumerable numbers of people”. Just, it’s interesting is all.

On a different note, the Web is getting in a final “fuck you” at Jon with the web lighter by subtly pushing Georgie to borrow it by pulling on her old smoking addiction since I guess none of the others had one presumably. Plus, “Can I have a cigarette” is a nice call back to the first episode with the Anglerfish.

Also, Would like to throw down with Martin over his self-esteem. Thoroughly disagree that they were incompatible without the spooky trauma. I think if they had met before Jon was given power in the Archives, or if someone else had been Archivist while they both were Archival Assistants, I fully think they could have at least been friends. Just because you trauma bond with someone doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have bonded with them otherwise.

I would also like to formally welcome Traumatized Jon™ back to the show for one last hurrah. Is it terrible to say that I missed him? He does bring up good points, even if everyone seems to disagree.

AND FINALLY MAG 200.

I’ve heard the ending I think once or twice already, but I had never heard the origin of the Fears story before. I guess it’s still ambiguous if the Fears were still technically a shitty chain e-mail, but at least in the way that it’s framed it mostly seems like they originated in that universe. Particularly since it started as an amorphous blob and then evolved from there versus how they were sent out as a fractured, netted thing that even if you dissolved it down would still hold some “sharp edges” as it were. Gotta admit though, nice to know that at least on some level the plan worked. The Fears were completely removed, all powers were gone, and people were able to get back to how it was before the Change. A part of me wants to know what happened to Simon Fairchild, but then again it’s far more horrifying if you don’t fill in the blanks on that. Also have to love the ambiguous ending for our two fave blorbos. Jon and Martin, sent to the cosmos with the Fears, destination Unknown. The ending definitely fit, it didn’t seem like anyone acted too out of character to make the ending happen the way it did.

Admittedly with that said, I think the way I worded that opens it up to my thoughts that will go in the long post later. Thank you all for joining me on my journey the last like... week and a half? as I listened to MAG 150-200 in preparation for the big day tomorrow. See you all again soon!

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives liveblog #mag 198 #mag 199 #mag 200 #tma s5 spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jon sims #martin #basira #georgie #melanie #I can finally say I've actually finished the series!

[whentherewerebicycles]

well today was a true Alexander day (terrible horrible no good very bad) but I think it’s partly just that time of year… I start feeling absolutely starved for break right about now and the fact that it’s so (relatively) close almost makes it harder to push through the last stretch. I’ve given myself permission to take a small dose of my meds tomorrow for the first time since I found out I was pregnant… I don’t want to make a habit of it but I feel like I lost most of the last two weeks to brain fog and I could use one (1) day of feeling like my work brain is mostly functional. plus honestly I can’t think of any other way to get myself to finish this accursed tutoring blog post. despite feeling incredibly bad in my brain/body I did manage to self-soothe a bit by listening to baby’s heartbeat for a long time. I think I will also make a big batch of stovetop popcorn and maybe start a new novel as I keep getting bogged down in my current one (rereading the likeness). I have another long day tomorrow sigh but then friday is totally open and then it’s the weekend and then it’s just one! more! week!!!! before I get to fly home (I’ll technically still be working but let’s be honest everyone is going to log off around 12/20 and not resurface until after new year’s). I can do it!!!!!!!!!!

#I can’t take any time off bc have to save it all for parental leave :((( #but hopefully everyone else taking time off will mean no meetings

[screechthemighty]

OKAY. SO. FI-NAL-Y. I got the next chapter of the time travel AU done. This chapter is going to require some additional suspension of disbelief but listen, what else is fanfic for? Exactly, random-ass scenarios that technically wouldn't work in canon but we're gonna ignore that for the sake of the angst and hurt/comfort.

Fair warning, this one covers more sensitive topics than previous chapters. All are about in line with canon stuff, but I don't want anyone to be jumpscared, so please mind the warnings. I can provide more details if you need them. Ao3 link will be in a reblog (and I'll have a list of everything I cited/referenced in this chapter over there), but here's the full chapter below as well!

the unknowable tomorrow | a tristamp fanfic part five: wolfwood

content warnings: canon backstory information for wolfwood and vash (including disordered eating, referenced human experimentation/captivity, child neglect, and suicidal thoughts), with additional depictions of self-harm (referenced and onscreen), hinted at child abuse, and near-vomiting.

.

This time when he emerged, he was in what looked like a tiny bathroom. It was…not great, but at least he hadn’t landed face-down in the toilet. ““Seriously?” Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder. The tear was gone. He was stuck in the tiny bathroom. “What the hell is your problem?!”

Time to see what new bullshit he’d wandered into this time. Wolfwood pressed his ear to the door and listened. It seemed quiet on the other side, so he decided to take the risk. The door didn’t have a release hatch; instead, there was just a handhold that slid it open and closed. No locking mechanism, either. That doesn’t seem very private, Wolfwood thought as he cracked open the door and peered out.

A figure stood on the other side of the room, back to him, staring at a series of tally marks carved on the wall. The haircut was immediately familiar. So were the patterns that marked his sleeves.

Then the figure turned around and froze in place.

Shit.

It was the kid from the room earlier. It was…

“...h-hello?” said the kid nervously.

The voice confirmed it. It was younger, of course, so much younger, but Wolfwood knew it. That was Vash. That was definitely Vash.

And he was handcuffed and alone in a barren room.

Next thing he knew, the door was open and he was stepping out into the room, fully prepared to rip the handcuffs off of him. Vash’s eyes widened as Wolfwood stepped into the light. He scrambled back until his back hit the wall, full-body cringing.

Damn it, Wolfwood, you’re scaring him again! What’s wrong with you?! “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Wolfwood stopped, crouched down to Vash’s eye level, and held up both hands. I’m not armed. I’m not here to hurt you. “Easy.”

Vash’s eyes darted towards the door. It had a large window with nothing on the other side but an empty hallway. He must have accepted that no one was going to help him, because he fixed his eyes back on Wolfwood. “Who are you?” he said, his voice shaking. “How…how did…?”

“Trust me, I wish I knew. I’m just as confused as you are.” Despite himself, Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder to glare into the bathroom. “Where are we?”

“...Ship Three. We’re on Ship Three.” Vash straightened up, carefully scanning Wolfwood’s face. “You’re not with the crew?”

Yeah, he couldn’t even try to lie about that one. “I’m not. I’m not from around here at all, actually.” Wait, do I still…? Wolfwood reached carefully into his jacket’s inner pocket. Yes, he still had some lollipops left. Just the two left, but he could work with it. He pushed his sunglasses off his face and up onto his head with one hand and produced one of the lollipops with the other. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I was trying to get somewhere else.” He held out the candy. “Truce?”

Vash tilted his head and examined the lollipop, then Wolfwood’s face again. Wolfwood fought back a shiver. Vash had always had perceptive eyes–too perceptive–and that quality was so much stronger now. Maybe he hadn’t learned how to hide it yet, or maybe the fear was making him more distrustful. “...where were you trying to go?” Vash asked. He stepped forward and reached for the lollipop. The handcuffs glinted in the moonlight.

Handcuffs. Who the hell handcuffed a little kid? “Back to my home,” Wolfwood said. It wasn’t a total lie. He had been considering going back to Hopeland before everything had gone to shit, if only to reassure himself that it was still standing. “Hey, you want me to get those off?”

Vash froze at the offer. “I…I’d get in trouble.” His hands started worrying away at the wrapper. “They already don’t trust me. I don’t want to…”

I don’t want to give them more reasons not to. It made sense, even if it made Wolfwood’s blood boil. “Who’s they? The crew?”

Vash nodded. His eyes stayed fixed on the lollipop as he spoke. “They think I’m a monster,” he said. “I hear them say it sometimes.”

…okay, what the hell is going on here? That didn’t line up with the way Vash spoke about the crew of Ship Three, or the way his eyes went all soft and gentle when he saw Luida and Brad. Maybe they were frozen now, or maybe there was something Wolfwood was missing here. He’s always been too forgiving, Wolfwood thought, a sick feeling starting to settle in his gut. They could do anything to him, and he’d turn the other cheek.

No time to think about that. Nothing you can do about it. Focus on him.

“A monster, huh? Where’s your claws, then? You got a tail?” He hadn’t realized it until then, but he’d slipped back into an old role: one of the big kids at the orphanage, trying to get the newbies to let their guards down. “Fangs?”

Vash hesitated before pulling the corner of his mouth a bit. His canines were…yeah, okay, those were pretty sharp for a kid his age. “That’s it, though,” Vash said as he let go of his mouth.

Wolfwood let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well…in that case, either they’re wrong and you’re not a monster, or you are one and you got ripped off. You should get at least two of those if you’re a real monster. Don’t think you’re dangerous enough for them to chain you up, either way.”

Vash didn’t reply at first. For a long moment, he just stared at the lollipop as if that would help things make sense. “What’s your name?” Vash asked.

Wolfwood had always introduced himself by his full name, ever since he was a kid. This time, though, he reconsidered. It might not be a good idea to throw that name around until he knew what was going on. “Nico,” he said without thinking. The nickname tasted like poison in his mouth, but it was too late to take it back. “You can call me Nico. What about you?”

“Vash.” Wolfwood knew that already, of course, but hearing it from the kid’s mouth still froze him. Damn it, this is real. I don’t know how, but it’s real. “Are you in trouble, too?”

You have no freaking idea, Needle Noggin. “Not with them,” he said, “but it’s probably better if they don’t know I’m here, okay? I promise I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Though I don’t know how much I’m gonna be able to hide. Would they think to check the bathroom? Probably depended on how much they trusted Vash. They didn’t trust him enough to leave him unhandcuffed…

“Sure you don’t want me to get those off? We can put them back on before they come back.” It was a pointless gesture in the long run and he knew it, but he couldn’t stand looking at the damn things. Even giving Vash a break from them would make him feel like he was doing…something.

Vash hesitated and glanced at the door again. Slowly, carefully, he moved out of line of sight of the window and held out his hands. “Okay.” Wolfwood smiled encouragingly before reaching into his pocket. “Hold still.”

Even on a ship full of lost technology, the handcuffs still had a backup keyhole. He’d been in the habit of carrying around makeshift lock picks after a contract went bad a few years ago. It was a lot easier to pick the lock when someone else was wearing them. “That better?” he asked once they were off.

Vash rubbed his wrists and nodded. “Thank you.” He still hadn’t opened the lollipop. “Someone usually comes in the morning with breakfast, so…we can put them back on before then.”

“You got it. They feeding you enough?”

Vash’s eyes darted off to the side. Wolfwood looked that way as well; there was a full tray of food sitting in the windowsill, untouched. “They shouldn’t,” he said. “It’s a waste. I don’t want it.”

Wolfwood suddenly felt nauseous again. He looked at Vash more carefully. He didn’t look…abnormally thin, not that he had too much of a before to weigh it against. He did have dark circles under his eyes, but those could’ve been from stress, lack of sleep. Still… “When did you eat last?” he asked.

Vash glanced at the walls, then shrugged. Wolfwood knew that one. It was the noncommittal shrug of a kid who knew the answer, but didn’t want to give it. He looked at the walls. There were lots of little tally marks just within arm’s reach. Five, ten, fifteen…what the hell. That was too many. Way too many. “Days,” he said carefully, “or meals?”

Another shrug. Not that it mattered; even divided by three, that number was still too high. Wolfwood had been traveling with Vash for weeks. He knew the guy could eat. There was no way his appetite was smaller when he was a kid. Ten year olds could pack away more than some adults.

Or they usually could. He’d seen kids too stressed and grief-stricken to eat…but never for this long. Never without someone intervening. Ship full of adults and not a single one could be bothered to try?

“Do you want it?” Vash said suddenly. “So it won’t get wasted. It might make Luida feel better.”

No way I’m taking your food, Wolfwood thought, then, Okay, so she is awake, and Then why the shit isn’t she making you eat?! The charitable interpretation was that she’d tried and failed. Vash was a stubborn adult and probably ten times worse as a kid. If Wolfwood wanted to get him to eat, then it’d take a lot more than just asking nicely.

“...Well…” Wolfwood got up and examined the tray. It wasn’t anything special, and had probably long gone cold, but it was better than nothing. “...I really appreciate it, but that seems like a bit much for me. We could split it, though. How about that?”

Vash’s face scrunched into a frown. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said stubbornly, crossing his arms. There it was. There was the Vash he knew. “I don’t want it.”

“Do you, huh?” The more Wolfwood looked around the room, the more tally marks he could see. Vash was holding it together, but he must have been starving, even with his weird plant biology. “Well, if you know what I’m trying to do, then you should know I’m not gonna eat until you do. So…” Wolfwood shrugged. “...guess we’ll both be wasting food.”

Longest he’d gone without eating was six and a half days. He was pretty sure he could outlast Vash. Two can play the hunger strike game.

Vash held eye contact. It really was weird, seeing that familiar glare on such a young face. Eventually, he broke eye contact and stalked over to sit at the window, staring out into the nothingness without touching the food. “Suit yourself,” Wolfwood said.

It felt like giving up, but he knew he had to play the long game. Hopefully not too long. Wolfwood sat down with his back to the wall, just out of sight of the hallway window. “So,” he said. “What do you do for fun around here?”

“...Luida comes to talk to me every day.”

“That’s it? Really?”

“Luida’s nice,” Vash said defensively. “She’s trying to help me.”

“Okay, okay. Just seems kind of boring with nothing else here.” Wolfwood drummed his fingers against his leg. He could already feel the itch for a cigarette, but if they hadn’t let him smoke before, they definitely wouldn’t now. The smell would give him away, too. That didn’t stop him from pulling the lighter out of his pocket and twirling it in his hand, just for something to do. “Hey, you ever hear the one about the tortoise and the hare?”

Vash’s confused frown returned. “Yeah. The tortoise wins. Everyone knows that one.”

“Okay, fair.” That one was low-hanging fruit, but he’d gotten Vash’s attention again. “What about…the one about the Jabberwock?”

“That’s not real.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, it’s not. You made that up.”

Despite himself, Wolfwood smiled. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch…it’s ancient. Old Earth poem. You’ve really never heard it?”

He definitely had Vash’s attention. The kid’s sulking was almost entirely forgotten as he scooted closer. “No. Never.”

“Well, lucky you. I’ve got the whole thing memorized.” It was one of many odd bits and stories he could tell from memory. The monster-based ones were always a hit. “Still don’t know what any of it means, but maybe you can help me figure it out.”

He expected more questions as he started–the kids usually wanted to know what brillig was first thing–but Vash was an attentive listener. If anything, he seemed starved for the input, for something that wasn’t his own thoughts and whatever he and Luida talked about.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch. Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch.

Wolfwood knew what that felt like–being alone in one place for so long that you started hearing things. At least Vash seemed to be in one piece physically. Wolfwood had developed a compulsive skin-picking habit he’d never been able to shake. A normal side effect, Conrad had said. The freak had never stopped to consider that maybe it was the isolation and not the chemicals. Or maybe he had, and just preferred to pretend otherwise.

He took his vorpal sword in hand; long time the manxome foe he sought…

Maybe that was why seeing Vash like that had set him off.

Wolfwood trailed off and looked around the space again. It suddenly felt a lot smaller. Almost familiar.

“...Nico?”

Vash looked worried. Wolfwood shook the thoughts away and kept going: “So rested he by the Tumtum tree and stood awhile in thought.”

At least Vash was polite enough not to ask more questions, or maybe he just thought Wolfwood was remembering how the poem went. He drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them close to his chest as Wolfwood recited the poem.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” he chortled in his joy.

Shame you couldn’t just handle all your problems with a good sword.

“Well, what do you think?”

Vash rested his chin on his knees. “...I don’t think this planet has trees,” he said finally. “It’s too bad. They’re nice.”

It definitely didn’t. Wolfwood had only ever seen them in pictures. The thought that Vash had just reminded him of how old the guy was. How much he’d seen.

Including what the inside of a cell looked like.

Wolfwood thought about the scars marking Vash’s torso. He thought about the scars that he should’ve had, the ones that people couldn’t see. If experience could leave a scar…

Shit, we’d both be hideous, wouldn’t we?

“Sun’s coming up.” Vash suddenly jumped down from the windowsill and held out his hands. “They usually come pretty early.”

Seeing Vash in those things had been bad enough. Having to be the one to put them back on was enough to make Wolfwood feel sick. He wanted to refuse, but he knew Vash miraculously having his cuffs off could just get him in worse trouble. It could get Wolfwood caught and taken away from the kid. And…

The situation might’ve been a lot of confusing bullshit, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t just leave Vash. Not now. Not like this.

Is this what you were trying to show me, whatever you are? To make me feel like shit?

To let me redeem myself?

Wolfwood pocketed his lighter and picked back up the handcuffs. “We’ll take them back off later, okay?” he said, as much to reassure himself as to reassure Vash. “And we’ll talk about splitting breakfast.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Nah. I’m not in any hurry.” He tried not to wince at the sound of the cuffs snapping back into place. “Do they check the bathroom much?”

“Not really. Not unless I’ve been in there too long.”

“Well…guess it’s as good a place as any. You don’t have to lie, just…don’t blow my cover, okay?”

“Okay.” Vash held out his uneaten lollipop. “Promise.”

Wolfwood hesitated before taking it. Try again tomorrow, he told himself. Since apparently we’re going to be getting a tomorrow.

He wasn’t sure how much good he could do here, and he was damn sure that he shouldn’t be the person trying to do it. But he was here now. And after everything, he wasn’t sure he had a right to say no, either.

All things considered, it’s the least you could do.

.

The tiny bathroom had an even tinier shower, which was where he spent most of the daytime hours. It was also where Wolfwood learned that he was more claustrophobic than he’d realized. The first hour or two felt like torture. He lit and put out his lighter more times than he could count, torn between the desperate desire for light and the cold, logical understanding that he’d run through all the lighter fluid if he wasn’t careful. He had no idea when he was getting out of here. He had to be smart about this. He knew that.

Didn’t stop it from being so damned hard.

The door, at least, was thin, which gave him some glimpses into what Vash’s day to day was like. He learned a few things that day. First, they were feeding him three times a day, or at least trying to. Far as Wolfwood could tell, Vash wasn’t eating any of it. He only poked his head out to try and encourage Vash to split the food; Vash just left the trays near the bathroom door and went back to his place in the windowsill.

Second, the tally marks were by meal. Still too damn many of them.

Third, Vash wasn’t lying about Luida. She was the one who delivered lunch and stayed with Vash for at least an hour after. She poked her head in a few times throughout the day, too. She tried to make small talk; Vash mostly gave one-word answers. She did a health check, tried to encourage him to eat, even tried the “we can split it” tactic. All of this raised her up in Wolfwood’s esteem by a few notches, but not much.

Not that you have any right to judge her.

Vash was more or less left alone, aside from Luida’s visits, but that didn’t mean he could talk to Wolfwood without attracting attention. That left him with a lot of time to think about what was going on. His memories of July were finally starting to solidify, giving him a stronger picture of what had gone wrong. Knives had been doing something to Vash and those other Plants. Whatever it was had torn open those holes. Meryl Stryfe was gone, too…had she run into Vash yet? Was she even alive?

He had a bruise on his shin from where she’d kicked him. He pushed on it a few times as he sat in that shower, just to remind himself he still had a body. I deserved that, he thought. Piece of shit Nicholas.

He really hoped she was okay. She was prickly and way too much like Vash in all the ways that could get her killed, but she didn’t deserve…whatever it was that was happening here.

Eventually, Vash opened the bathroom door. The room outside was lit by a setting sun. “Hallway’s empty,” he whispered. “They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Oh, thank God. Wolfwood unfolded himself from the shower, wincing in pain as his joints protested the sudden movement. “Are you okay?” Vash asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just sore.” He thought he was used to back pain after hauling his weapon around for so long, but apparently not. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Vash held up a tray. “There’s bread.”

…oh, you little punk. He knew what he was doing, too; Wolfwood could see that glint in his eyes. “You should have that,” he said.

“I don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it either, then.”

Vash pouted and marched back to the hallway door. The tray was deposited next to the door, and Vash went back to his window seat. Wolfwood got out of sight of the hallway and tried to stretch out his body. “Anything interesting out there?” he asked.

“...sand. Flying things. I think they talk to each other.”

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Sometimes I can hear this…” Vash stopped, thought about it, and made a high-pitched eee noise. “...when they’re close to the ship. They’re the only things that make it.”

“Huh. Makes sense.”

“Bees dance to communicate. Did you know that?”

“No,” Wolfwood said. It took him a second to remember what a bee even was. Lot of Old Earth animals didn’t seem real to him. He and pretty much everyone he knew had only ever seen them in pictures. “They dance, with all those little legs?”

Vash nodded and started tracing patterns in the window. “They move around in circles like this. How many circles they go in tells the other bees how far away food is. And they wiggle.” He curled up tightly again, his cheek resting against the glass. “Where did you hear that story?”

“The Jabberwock? Read it in a book when I was a kid. There were two of them about the same girl. She falls down a tunnel and ends up somewhere else.” I know the feeling, Alice. At least no one had tried to cut his head off yet…though baby Knives had come pretty close with that toy, now that he thought about it. “Do you want to…get those cuffs off and hear that one?”

“...okay.”

The bad news was, Wolfwood didn’t remember this one as clearly. It didn’t help that the kids liked to make up their own versions of the story, other things that Alice could’ve run into, and those stories blended into the actual book so thoroughly that he couldn’t tell which was which. On the plus side, Vash wouldn’t know any different, so Wolfwood just told the story as he remembered it.

Again, Vash listened attentively. He had a few more questions this time, mostly about the logic of it all. He seemed to accept the initial answer–she’s in a dream world. Do your dreams ever make sense?--but that didn’t stop the commentary entirely.

“That caterpillar could’ve helped more.”

“Yeah, he probably figured it wasn’t his problem.” The confused, unnerved look on Vash’s face made him immediately ashamed of how casual he was about that. “She’s…going to be okay. Just to let you know.”

“Oh. Good.”

Wolfwood tried to gloss over the worst parts after that. Skipped the pig baby. Swapped out the beheading for capture. If he made the Red Queen into a Blue Queen and had her defeat be a bit more embarrassing, well, that was just catharsis on his part.

“...and that was when she woke up,” he finished. His throat felt a little raspy and he could see the start of sunlight peeking through the window. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking for that long. “Back under the tree with her sister. ‘I’ve had such a curious dream.’” He wasn’t sure why he remembered that line so vividly. Wishful thinking, maybe. He’d give anything for the past ten years to have been a dream. “She goes back later, but…that’s a different story.”

Vash had moved off the windowsill at some point, sitting cross-legged on the floor, just out of arm’s reach. Sometimes the light of the rising sun caught his eyes at the right angle, making the markings on his eyes just barely visible. No wonder he kept those sunglasses on all the time as an adult. “Can you tell me that one tomorrow?” he asked hesitantly.

Are you leaving now was the unspoken question. Wolfwood didn’t have to think about it too long. The decision had already made for him, in a way, and even if it wasn’t…

He wasn’t sure he could. Not when Vash looked so small and alone in there.

“Yeah,” Wolfwood said. “Yeah, I’ll tell you that one tomorrow.”

.

The next day was easier than the first, mostly because he spent it asleep. Wolfwood woke up with a jolt a few times when Vash’s meals were dropped off, but spent the rest of the time either dead asleep or mostly-asleep. It was a little too familiar, but it was livable.

The dinner tray was still sitting on the windowsill when Vash gave him the go-ahead to come out. The two of them stared each other down. Vash broke first, walking over to the wall where Wolfwood usually sat and sitting with his back to it. “What happened when she went back?” he asked, holding out his hands.

Punk. Wolfwood ignored the empty feeling in his gut as he sat down next to Vash and started on the handcuffs. “Well, this time,” he said, “it was through a mirror. Not a tunnel. Just decided to climb through one day, so there really must’ve been nothing going on at home.”

His recollection of this one was worse than last night, and Wolfwood had a feeling he’d accidentally told some parts in the wrong story. He pushed on, again figuring that Vash wouldn’t know the difference. Vash was quieter that night than he had been the night before, listening with a tilted head as he traced patterns in the floor. He looked so much smaller, too.

I’ve got to figure out how to get him to eat. This can’t be good for him. I just wish I knew why…

“White can’t move twice,” Vash said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“It’s chess, right? But white can’t move twice. Red has to get a turn.”

“...it’s chess? Hold on.” Wolfwood fumbled through his pockets. Two lollipops, handful of bullets, lockpicks, pocket knife…shit, he forgot he had that. He used the tip of the blade to scratch a rough chess board into the wall. “Show me.”

Vash turned to face the wall and started pointing to the squares on the board. “So, you said it looked like a big board, right? So she’s been…here, here, and here…and other people are moving like this. But white moved twice, when the red should’ve gotten a turn.” Vash examined the board and the pieces that only he could see and nodded. “I think she’s a pawn. She can probably win, though.”

“Shit. I never caught that.” Smart little kid. Who knew he had that in there? “I always sucked at chess.”

“I used to play with…” Vash’s demeanor shifted suddenly, going from intense and thoughtful to withdrawn. “...with my brother.”

That tracked. Wolfwood had never met Knives personally, but he seemed like the type to play chess. He was probably annoying about it, too. “Did you win?”

“No, we had to stop playing. We got into stalemates all the time. It wasn’t fun anymore.” Vash grimaced. “I…threw a bishop at him the last time. So we couldn’t use the board anymore anyway. We weren’t allowed.”

A laugh flew out of Wolfwood’s mouth before he could stop it. Vash flinched, staring at him with a startled look. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I just…” Maybe the lack of food was getting to him, but the mental image of Vash throwing a chess piece at Knives’ head with the same pinpoint accuracy that he fired a gun was the funniest thing in the world. “...that’s a new one for me. You can show me where the pieces are going for the rest of it, okay?”

Vash’s fingers followed the story, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Alice won the match and went home. Vash only seemed to make himself smaller the longer things went on, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms hugging his legs tightly to himself.

He looked so fragile. Vash had never looked fragile to him before, even with his shirt stripped off and every scar on display. It had been painful to see, vulnerable in a way that made Wolfwood feel like he’d done something wrong by being there, but not fragile. Not like this.

A decade ago, Wolfwood would’ve scooted closer, bumped his shoulder against Vash’s, and asked him if he wanted to hear another story. If they’d been the same size–if Wolfwood hadn’t twisted and grown into something so monstrous–maybe he could’ve fixed this. Now, all he could do was stare.

His hand reached for his cigarettes. He jerked it back and shoved it in his pocket. “You okay?” he asked clumsily.

Vash hummed. That wasn’t an answer, but pointing that out felt cruel. “Are you going now?” he whispered.

“Do you want me to?”

“...no.”

How sick is that? The only man who’s trying is the man who’s going to get you killed one day.

Wolfwood’s hands strayed to his shin. He started kneading away at it, sending sharp pain up his leg. It was less than he deserved. And he certainly didn’t deserve the quiet, pleading look in Vash’s eyes.

“Then I’m in no hurry,” he said. “Haven’t made queen yet, right? So I guess I’m sticking around a bit longer.”

Vash smiled slightly. Wolfwood pushed on the bruise harder, and forced himself to smile back.

.

“Are you kidding? Again?”

The tone made Wolfwood freeze in place before he registered the actual words. He made a mental inventory of everything in his pockets, second-guessed if he’d put the cuffs back on Vash, wondered if the door was open. Then the voice kept talking: “I don’t know why she even bothers. You just keep wasting it.”

“I told her, I don’t want it,” Vash said. His voice was quiet, defensive. “I’m not hungry.”

“That right? Then I guess you won’t need this.” The door swished open. “Ungrateful little…”

The door cut off whatever the rest of that sentence was. That was probably for the best; it wasn’t until the danger had passed that Wolfwood realized he was clutching one of his vials in one hand. One swig, and he probably would’ve been strong enough to rip the person’s head off.

Maybe I should’ve. Okay, no, that would just upset Vash. But he might be able to get them out. Grab Vash, run, get him away from this place. And go where? If Vash is this young, there’s probably nothing out there. Humanity hadn’t clawed their way to survival yet. It’d be nothing but sand and ship ruins.

It can’t be any worse than in here, can it?

Wolfwood forced himself to wait as long as possible before crawling out of the shower and opening the door enough to see out of. Vash was back in his windowsill. There was no food anywhere in the room. Bastard just took it all? Seriously?! “Psst,” Wolfwood hissed. “You okay?”

Vash either didn’t hear or chose not to turn around. Either way, Wolfwood had to slink back into the shower before someone saw him. The only upside to the situation was that his rage overrode his claustrophobia.

He’s a kid. He’s just a kid. I don’t care if he’s not human, he’s a kid. How can you treat him that way?

Wolfwood’s mind stayed stuck on that thought, worrying away at it, coming up with half-baked schemes to grab Vash and run. He hadn’t realized how long it had been until Luida showed up. “Hey, where’s your breakfast?” she asked.

Vash didn’t answer.

“...someone left it for you, right?”

Still quiet.

Put two and two together. They’d let him starve if they had the option. The silence felt so heavy that Wolfwood wanted to scream. Get. Him. Out. What are you doing?! Why aren’t you helping him?

Guilt chased his anger, as it always did. He wasn’t any better than her. Hell, he was worse, just in a different way. Did Vash had a single person in his life who hadn’t screwed him over? Meryl, maybe. Damn it, it should’ve been her here. He would’ve paid good money to see her break some femurs around this stupid ship. Wolfwood found himself worrying away at the edges of his own Meryl Stryfe souvenir as he listened.

“I was hoping to do another vitals check today. Is that all right?”

“...yeah, okay.”

Vitals check. At least she asked. Wolfwood never knew when his were coming; they’d just show up and sedate him. You bite a guy for laying hands on you one time and suddenly the sleep gas comes out whenever they want to get your blood pressure.

(Yeah, it is elevated, Doc, wonder why that could be?)

Luida asked permission before she did anything. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because at least he could be sure Vash knew what was happening, and that he was as okay with it as a too-eager-to-please kid could really be about being manhandled like that. A curse because every requested step just reminded him of the old days.

Just a quick little pinprick, okay? I want to check your blood sugar…

That had been a lie. The needle had been massive. He still didn’t even know what it was for. Wolfwood was so busy trying to claw himself out of the memory that he almost missed how heavy the silence outside had become.

“... Vash, I know you’re probably under a lot of stress right now…”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know, but I really don’t like these numbers.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just a few bites. Please.”

“I said no!”

Well, that got Wolfwood’s attention. So did Vash suddenly barging into the bathroom and slamming the door, holding it shut with both hands. Shit, shit, so much for not blowing my cover! Wolfwood barely scrambled to hide behind the shower door. “Kid,” he hissed.

Fortunately, Luida’s footsteps stopped outside the door. She hesitated. She did not try to force the door open. “I’m going to leave lunch by the door, okay? Please, just…try. Even a little. I don’t want to have to put in an IV, but if you can’t start eating, we might have to. Okay?”

Vash didn’t answer. Wolfwood could just make out Vash’s trembling shoulders as his eyes re-adjusted to the dark. “I’ll be back later with your dinner,” Luida added.

The door to the room opened, closed. Vash crumbled to the ground, leaning against the door. He was trying not to cry audibly, but Wolfwood knew. He was good at spotting a quiet cry by now.

“...are you okay?” Wolfwood whispered. “Did she…did she hurt you?” If he could just see better, he could check for…what, bruises? Needle or scalpel marks? This wasn’t the Eye of Michael. Luida wasn’t Conrad. Physically, Vash was probably fine. It was his mind that was eating him up.

Vash didn’t say anything for a while. When he finally stood, it was to open the door and slip out. “Sorry,” he whispered back before closing the door.

It opened again a second later. The lunch tray was slid into the bathroom, untouched. Wolfwood stared it down. For a second, the barely-tame orphan in him wanted to scarf it all down. Four days of nothing but sink water was starting to get to him.

But this wasn’t a fight he planned on losing. Wolfwood shoved it back out before settling in his shower and waiting.

Vash must not have eaten anything, because Luida sounded disappointed when she came back later. She was there for longer than usual, chatting with Vash about nothing in particular. The conversation seemed to grow more desperate the longer it went on. She probably would’ve stayed there all night if someone hadn’t called her away to deal with something. Even once she was gone, Wolfwood waited as long as he could bear it before poking his head out. “Are we clear?” he asked.

“...yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” Wolfwood stepped out. Vash was back in his windowsill. Dinner was still untouched. “Okay. What’s the deal?”

Vash curled up more tightly. “I told you, I’m not…”

“Bullshit. What are you, ten? You’ve probably grown three inches since I got here. Of course you’re hungry.” Wolfwood sat down on the window seat, as close to Vash as he could. There was a photo propped up against the glass: Vash, the kid that would become Millions Knives, and a dark-haired woman Wolfwood didn’t recognize. It looked like the family portraits he’d seen clutched in the hands of some new kids. “So, what’s going on? Hunger strike? Are you trying to make them let you go?”

“I just don’t want it. Other people on the ship deserve it more.”

“Deserve…what do you mean deserve?”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

…oh, shit. I’m not equipped to deal with this. “Here on the ship, or…?”

Vash went quiet again.

Why him? Why did it have to be him here? Nicholas D. Wolfwood, resident screwup, couldn’t even protect his own…no, don’t. Don’t. They’re going to put needles in him if you don’t fix this. Do you want that?

Absolutely not. He had to think of something. Unfortunately, frustration, hunger, and lingering dread made thinking hard. “What did you do?” he asked suddenly. “Huh? What did you do that’s so damn bad?”

Vash flinched like Wolfwood had threatened to hit him. So he was blaming himself. This was punishment. He'd barely eaten for two days after what happened with Monev (Rollo, he mentally corrected, the poor kid’s name was Rollo). And Meryl had seemed excited that Vash was eating after they'd first met…as if he hadn’t been before.

How many times are you going to do this to yourself? How long has this been going on?

"It’s like they said,” Vash said, so softly Wolfwood almost missed it. “I’m a monster. And I don’t deserve this.”

“...that’s not true.”

“How do you know? You don’t know what…you don’t…” Tears started forming in Vash’s eyes. “I am.”

“No, you’re not. Kid, look at me." Wolfwood waited until Vash made eye contact, fleeting and hesitant though it was. "I’ve met monsters. If you really were one, you wouldn’t be in here starving yourself. You’d be out there…gloating and making shit worse for everyone. Whatever you’re hurting yourself over, it can’t be that bad.”

Wolfwood didn’t know how anyone could think otherwise. Sure, he had the benefit of having known Vash as an adult–stupid, self-sacrificing Vash who wouldn’t hurt a fly–but even without that, it was obvious what he was now: just a scared and grieving kid, blaming himself for something that probably wasn’t even his fault.

He was starting to wonder if Vash had ever grown out of that.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Wolfwood said finally. Those words had cut him to the bone once; maybe they would work on the guy who’d say them one day. “You’re no monster. And that means you deserve this.” He nudged the tray closer. “To be here. To eat. And I think…” He pointed to the photo. “...she’d agree with me. Don’t you?”

It was a gamble, and one he didn’t think had paid off at first. Vash hugged himself more tightly, shrinking back into himself. Wolfwood could see tears starting to form in his eyes before he hid his face. “...if I have some,” Vash said finally, “do you still want the rest?”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you don’t eat. Doesn’t even have to be half.” As long as it was something.

After what felt like an eternity, Vash lifted his head and held out his hands for Wolfwood to take the cuffs off. Wolfwood didn’t feel like he could breathe, though, until Vash picked up the spoon and took the first bite.

Then another.

And another.

Wolfwood half-expected Vash to stubbornly stop after a handful of bites. He was already giving himself a pep talk about small steps and how any progress was good, they could wear him down later. But Vash kept eating. He did draw lines with his spoon as he went after the first few bites of each item, leaving roughly half untouched, but he devoured the rest. It wasn’t until his first bite of the last item that he finally stopped, a gag shaking his body. “Hey, hey, easy, breathe…” Wolfwood carefully rubbed Vash’s back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I think you’re done.”

Vash nodded and swallowed, hard. He seemed baffled by how much he’d eaten. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Stop apologizing so much. You did great. Have some water. You’ll feel better.” Hopefully he wouldn’t just puke it all back up. “Slowly, okay?”

“Okay.” Vash stood up and held out the spoon. “There’s only one.”

Wolfwood shrugged and took it. “Eh. You’re probably not contagious.” He’d eaten food off the floor before. Sharing a spoon with a Plant was tame in comparison. “Thanks.”

The food was cold, but still surprisingly good. Wolfwood forced himself to eat slowly, both to avoid gagging and to avoid an accidental guilt-trip for Vash. “Think you’ll be able to handle breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

Vash considered it. “I’ll try,” he said.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Want another story?”

Vash’s face lit up. “Please?”

They sat out of sight of the window again while Wolfwood recounted every single made-up bit of folklore around the orphanage he could remember, right down to the sock-stealing ghost. Vash dozed off for most of it, his head resting against Wolfwood’s arm.

Wolfwood kept talking anyway. It was that or silence. Even with the victory of a fully consumed tray of food under his belt, he didn’t think he was ready for the quiet.

.

He was woken up the next morning by a tray of food being shoved into the bathroom. Everything was half-eaten. Wolfwood wasn’t a praying man, but he was pretty close to starting at that sight.

Luida was thrilled when she came back for lunch to an empty tray. If Vash felt guilty about letting her think that was all him, he didn’t let it show. He sounded a lot more chipper that day, actually holding a full conversation with Luida as he ate. He made up some excuse about wanting to eat the rest later to dodge why he hadn’t finished the food. It was the first active lie he’d told, and Wolfwood appreciated it. It was a lot harder to ignore his hunger now that he had an available food supply, and it was all much better when it was hot.

At least they’re eating well, he thought when his half was finally slipped into the bathroom. Humanity might be on the brink, but some people have food.

He tucked away the half a bread roll anyway, just in case. Old habits.

Dinner came later. This time, Vash waited to eat until it was safe for Wolfwood to come out. They alternated eating, Vash eating one half of a dish, then Wolfwood, back and forth. “How do you know so many stories, anyway?” Vash asked.

How exactly was he going to explain the concept of an orphanage? Did they even have kids on these things? Wolfwood didn’t think so; Vash would’ve had more of an audience if they did. If there was one thing kids couldn’t pass up, it was a mystery thing in a room they weren’t allowed to go into. Even after this long, he’d be getting the odd straggler wanting to catch a glimpse. “Big family,” he said instead, going for an easier half-truth. “We didn’t have much, so us kids had to figure out how to keep ourselves entertained. Lots of…throwing shit at each other and making up stories.” One hand strayed up to his hairline. He used to have a scar there, where one kid had beamed him right in the head with a good-sized chunk of stone. It had never been an especially big scar, but the regeneration the Eye had forced on him had worn it down to nothing. Just like the scrapes on his knees, the chunk of his left elbow that he’d taken out after falling off the roof, the slight pale mark on his right cheekbone…even that one he regretted losing. The only marks he had left on him were the calluses on his fingers from his weapon. He never had the chance to put the thing down, so the chemicals couldn’t keep up. He’d worn through a few jackets that way, too, until they started reinforcing the shoulder.

Wolfwood’s free hand had strayed back to the bruise again. He didn’t even notice until he hit an especially tender portion, hard enough to make himself flinch. “None of it’s real,” he said quickly, trying to cover up the gesture before Vash could ask questions. “We made a lot of it up, but some are just old. Someone heard them from someone who heard them from someone else…do you know the one about the monkey paw?” Vash shook his head. “I can tell you, but it’s a little scary. No happy ending, either.”

Vash sat up straighter, trying to make himself look bigger. “I can handle it,” he said confidently.

Wolfwood couldn’t help smiling as he passed Vash back the spoon. “Okay, then, tough guy. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

This one he remembered clearly–the artifact under an ancient curse, the harsh consequences that came with every wish. Maybe those consequences were why he remembered so vividly. Cursed animal hands weren’t real, obviously, but life was like that in his experience. Everything had a cost. If you were Nicholas D. Wolfwood, a nobody orphan just trying to survive, usually that cost was high. You’re strong now…what did you give up?

Your family is safe. What’s the cost in blood?

It never seemed to be the other way around–something good from something bad. Him running away and finding the orphanage was the closest thing he could think of. He couldn’t even count this whole setup as a reverse monkey’s paw. Sure, Vash was eating, but that seemed like a small drop in the bucket compared to all the shit he had to deal with. Wolfwood shook the thought away and kept telling the story. He tried not to shrink away as Vash scooted closer, probably looking for safety in numbers as the undead son in the story pounded on the door.

He needs that. It’s messed up that it’s coming from you, but he needs it. Suck it up, Wolfwood.

“...so he made his final wish: to send his son away. The knocking stopped just as she opened the door. His son was gone. The last finger curled.” He felt pressure on his arm as Vash leaned against him again. “You okay?”

Vash stared up at him with wide eyes. “...that was it?” he said. “Nothing happened, he was just…gone?”

“Yeah.”

“...because it’s the same thing, right? The wish is that his son would go away, but…now he’ll never know for sure if something was wrong with him. He’ll never…” Vash leaned against Wolfwood more, mussing up his hair as he did. “...you said this was scary, not sad.”

“It’s both, I guess.” Damn it, should’ve picked a different one. “Sorry.”

Vash shook his head. “I said I’d be okay.”

“Still. Sorry.”

“...Do you know any actually scary ones?”

I just broke your heart and you want me to scare you? Kid logic. Never made any damn sense. “...toe soup,” Wolfwood said after some consideration. “The one about toe soup.”

“What?!” Vash clamped a hand over his mouth and glanced at the door guiltily. When he was sure no one was coming at the sound of the scream, he repeated, “Toe what?”

“Soup. Soup made of toes. Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah.” Vash’s tone said he wasn’t really sure, but that he had to know now. “Tell me.”

He took the toe soup story better than he did the monkey’s paw. Wolfwood couldn’t blame him for that.

.

Everything started going to hell after breakfast. Vash hadn’t eaten as much as he had the night before. That was Wolfwood’s first warning sign.

The second came when the lights flickered.

Wolfwood froze mid-bite. He wasn’t exactly an expert on spaceships, but his gut said that wasn’t supposed to happen. Wolfwood risked cracking open the door. Vash stood in the middle of the room, staring out the door’s window and down the hallway. People ran past, forcing Wolfwood to duck back inside before he could ask what was wrong. Assuming Vash even knew.

The ship doesn’t crash, he reminded himself. He poked at his share of the food, suddenly too tense to be hungry. The ship doesn’t crash, you were just on it, the ship doesn’t crash and nobody dies. That didn’t make the power flicker less weird, or Vash’s behavior for the rest of the day less concerning. He was cagey and withdrawn when Luida came later. It probably didn’t help that her reassurances that everything was fine, just a little glitch with the lights, sounded so fake that even a trusting kid like Vash wouldn’t buy it.

What’s got you spooked, lady?

The power flickered twice more before it was safe for Wolfwood to leave the bathroom. It felt like the lights turned off earlier, too, but he couldn’t be sure. Vash kept glancing at the door as they ate. “They didn’t tell you what’s going on?” Wolfwood asked.

Vash shook his head. “No. Everyone seems…scared. I think.” He rubbed his forehead. “Do you hear whining?”

“...no?”

“I keep hearing whining.” Vash pushed both hands over his eyes. “Like someone’s crying, but…not.”

Wolfwood wasn’t stupid, and the facts were very easy to put together. Electricity Plant. Has to be. Maybe it’s hurt, or agitated, or…something. He didn’t know the first damn thing about Plants, just that Vash was one and he could talk to them. So, if the lights were flickering and Vash heard something no one else could…

Great. Exactly what we don’t need right now.

“You didn’t tell Luida?”

“I didn’t think she’d believe me.” Vash lowered his hands and stared down at the food tray. “I’m not hungry. I mean it. I feel kinda sick.”

Wolfwood believed him. Poor kid looked like a bundle of nerves. It probably wasn’t doing his stomach any favors. “Okay, that’s fine. If you still feel sick tomorrow, you should probably tell Luida, all right?” He hated suggesting it, hated the risk that saying something would throw Vash into the lion’s den of doctors, but what other option was there? He sure as shit couldn’t help if something was wrong with Vash. Wolfwood reached over to press the back of his hand against Vash’s forehead. “Doesn’t feel like you have a fever. That’s good.”

Vash nodded. When Wolfwood pulled his hand away, Vash scooted closer and leaned against him. “I’m tired,” he said.

“...okay. You rest.” Wolfwood knew it was coming, but he still had to fight back a flinch when Vash took that as an invitation to lie down and use Wolfwood’s leg as a pillow. “Do you…want another story?”

“No, thank you.”

It struck Wolfwood all over again how small Vash was now, fragile like the Tomas chicks back at the orphanage. Fragile like Livio had been. Livio would sleep curled up next to Wolfwood, too, wrapped up in his blanket like a cocoon. It was the only way he could sleep, some nights.

Vash didn’t have any blankets in here. All Wolfwood could do was awkwardly shrug off his jacket and drape it over him. There were still bullet holes in the fabric, and a smear of blood on the elbow that he’d missed when he tried to clean it. It felt symbolic of the whole messed-up situation: all he had to offer was a blood-stained mess, permanently marred by violence.

Vash took it anyway. He wrapped it around himself and clung to the collar. As he closed his eyes, Wolfwood heard him humming quietly. The tune sounded familiar. He’d heard adult Vash hum it before, too, but he’d heard it even before that. Sometimes when he went back to July for his next contract, he’d hear someone playing the piano, playing something almost like that tune. It had never sounded quite right to him, like whoever was playing it only half-remembered how it went and was desperately trying to fill in the gaps with volume and aggressive flourishes. It was missing…something.

It was missing whatever Vash had now: the quiet innocence of his voice, the softness of it. It was still a sound of self-soothing, but it didn’t seem so desperate. It actually had Vash asleep pretty quickly, leaving Wolfwood stuck where he was.

Wolfwood leaned against the wall and sighed, his appetite suddenly gone, too. “Great,” he muttered at the ceiling. “How long are we gonna keep doing this, Wolfwood?”

Right now, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. It had been what, six nights now? Still no tear. Maybe whatever he was meant to do here hadn’t happened yet. Bit hard when he still didn’t have a clue. His clumsy attempts at comfort couldn’t have been helping, could they?

You got him to eat. That’s something.

Great. One good deed against weeks of betrayal. Amazing penance. All is forgiven, pack it up, gents. Wolfwood sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

He opened them again with a jolt. Time had passed; the moon was peering in through the window, bathing the room in an otherworldly light. Something had set Wolfwood off. His heart was racing, and his eyes instinctively scanned the space for trouble. Nothing there, no sound of movement outside, so what…

A tiny hang clung to his pant leg. It was the only part of Vash that was still visible. The rest of him was so tightly curled up under Wolfwood’s jacket that it looked like the garment was eating him. “Hey, hey…” Wolfwood pulled the fabric back. Vash’s eyes were still closed and his body was shaking. “Vash…Vash…”

Vash shuddered and gasped, his eyes suddenly flying open. “Easy,” Wolfwood said. “You were having a nightmare.” He kept a hand on Vash’s shoulder as he sat up. “You okay?”

“I…” The first tears slipped down Vash’s cheeks. “I…”

Before Wolfwood could come up with a response, Vash collapsed against him. Wolfwood panicked, thinking for a moment that the kid had fainted, but soon Vash’s arms were clinging to him desperately. Wolfwood probably couldn’t make him let go even if he wanted to. Vash was shaking, shaking, whimpering, terrified.

And his only comfort was Wolfwood.

I’m a monster. I made him trust me. Shit. Stupid, stupid… But his arms moved instinctively, gathering Vash up closer. Stupid bastard, you dumb son of a bitch, why? Why make him rely on you again? The first time wasn’t bad enough?

He shouldn’t be here. This was wrong, all wrong.

But he didn’t let go, because letting go would be worse.

“You’re okay. Hey, I’ve gotcha, kid.” It was all happening on autopilot: the soothing tone, the gentle rocking, letting Vash’s head rest against his shoulder. All actions that belonged to someone else, that younger version of him who could actually help people. He hadn’t expected unearthing Nico again to be so easy, but here he was, cradling the future Vash the Stampede against him as if he were any other scared orphan. “I’ve got you.”

Vash melted into the embrace. Wolfwood knew what that weight meant. The kids who’d had loving parents always had the hardest time adjusting. They were used to being soothed, held, comforted; having that jerked away from them as they were thrown into an environment with too many kids and not enough adults was its own torture. Vash had been loved once, had been a kid who could call out to someone for help when the nightmares came. His brother, before Nai became Millions Knives. The dark-haired woman, who must have been Rem.

But now they were gone, and Wolfwood didn’t think Vash would ever get anything close to that back again. All he had in his future was 150 years of pain, of humans hurting him over and over.

And here, now, all he had was Wolfwood.

It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Vash whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Wolfwood replied. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m the guilty one, here. “You’re okay.”

He’d hum Vash’s song back to him, but he couldn’t remember the tune. He doubted butchering it would make the kid feel any better, so he tried a tune of his own. A mixed bag of memories came as he started humming. Curled up in the darkest corner of his closest, hands over his ears, his own fragile voice shaking his ribcage as he tried to drown out the yelling outside.

Once there was a way to get back homeward, once there was a way to get back home…

The first kid he’d ever comforted at the orphanage. Not even a year old yet. He was the only one who could get her to stop crying. He’d looked after her for a week before she finally acclimated to the place.

Sleep pretty darling, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby.

He’d sung it to Livio, of course. At night when neither of them could sleep. During the day while they did their chores. The last time they’d sung it together had been not long before the Eye had taken Wolfwood away. They’d screamed the words over the cliff and listened to their voices echo back at them, carefree, laughing.

Golden slumbers fill your eyes, smiles await you when you rise, sleep, pretty darling, do not cry…

In that cell, in between tortures. Curled up in another corner. One hand clutching his hair, the other scratching at his forearm until it bled. Too far gone to remember anything but one line, over and over and over.

Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time.

It beat itself into him like a second heartbeat. The only constant in his own personal hell. Even now, he hummed the tune as it could beat back his own monstrous nature, Vash’s nightmares, whatever it was that made the electricity Plant weep.

You’re gonna carry that weight.

You’re gonna carry that weight.

You’re gonna carry that weight.

Vash eventually fell back asleep, still clinging to Wolfwood’s shirt.

Wolfwood didn’t put him down until he absolutely had to.

.

He woke up again to the sound of knocking. “Vash?”

Huh?

Curled up in the tiny shower. Weight against his chest. Vash…Vash?! No, that wasn’t right, Wolfwood had left him outside on the window seat. Put the cuffs back on him and everything, only stayed long enough to be sure Vash knew he hadn’t gone far. He’d crawled into the shower to try and sleep, and then…Vash must’ve followed him. Probably still scared after whatever his nightmare had been about. Which, fair, but now Luida was knocking on the damn door, and Wolfwood had no way to explain what he was doing in the prison cell shower.

“Vash, are you in there?”

Vash’s head shot up. He looked at Wolfwood, eyes wide and startled. Wolfwood gestured frantically towards the toilet. Flush it, just flush it, act natural, go!

“I’m coming!” Vash called. Fortunately, he got the message, hitting the toilet handle with his elbow before turning the sink on and splashing water on his face. Wolfwood had just enough time to wedge himself out of sight before Vash opened the door. “I’m sorry…”

“Everything okay?”

“No. I don’t feel good.”

“Oh, no, what’s wrong?”

“My stomach kinda hurts…” The door closing muffled Vash’s voice. “...and I couldn’t sleep.”

He sounded pathetic enough to sell the half-truth. Luida didn't double check the bathroom to make sure he was hiding anything. Could've been worse, Wolfwood decided, though that had been pretty freaking bad as far as he was concerned.

Luida didn’t stay long. She told Vash it was probably just his stomach recovering after everything, reassured him that the lights were nothing to be afraid of, and left without much conversation after that. Which meant the second part was probably a lie.

Wolfwood sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Monkey's paw again. Finally made some progress with Vash just to have everything else go to shit. And how the hell was he supposed to leave when the kid was relying on him so much now?

Why bring me here? Why do this to him?

As if he could sense Wolfwood was thinking about him, Vash slipped back into the bathroom after Luida had left. He was smart enough to turn the sink on before sitting outside the shower. “She’s not telling me something, isn’t she?”

“Oh, definitely,” Wolfwood said. “Probably doesn’t want you to worry, but…still pretty stupid.”

“Hmm.” Vash nodded. "Hey, Nico?"

“What’s up?”

“Do you really think I’m not a monster?”

“Of course I don’t. Why?”

“...I'm not human."

And you’re telling me this now…why? At least he could use that confusion to sound genuinely surprised. "...okay…?"

"I'm a Plant. An Independent. Except I don’t generate anything. I’m not anything special. I just…eat and sleep like a human.” Vash pulled his knees closer to his chest. “People out there think I’m a monster. Rem…she said that maybe I was an angel. That God sent me and my brother to help humans and Plants live together. But I don’t really think I’m that, either, so…I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”

Wolfwood needed a second to chew on that one. Every time he thought he had a grip on Vash’s deal, something else got thrown at him that raised as many questions as it answered. Sure as shit explains some things about Knives, though. “...who said you have to be anything?” Wolfwood said finally. “Just because you’re not a monster doesn’t mean you have to be an angel. I don’t think anyone can do that.”

“Except actual angels.”

“Okay, yeah, except them. My point is, you’re allowed to just…be alive, Vash. Do your best with the shit you’ve got and don’t let anyone tell you what you are. You can figure that out on your own.” He reached out of the shower to squeeze Vash’s shoulder. “Hell, don’t even let me tell you. I don’t know shit.”

Vash smiled slightly. “You know some things.” The power outside flickered again; Vash flinched. “Will you come back to visit? After you leave?”

Shit. “...you know, I think we’ll see each other again,” Wolfwood said. Not a lie, just a blinding understatement of the truth. He hated admitting to even that. “Gut feeling.”

Vash nodded and stood. His embrace was a little clumsy with his handcuffs still on, but it was earnest. As if Vash was capable of being anything but earnest. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Wolfwood returned the hug, grateful that the low lighting meant Vash couldn’t see the look on his face. “You’re welcome, Vash.”

He probably added another centimeter to the bruise with how much he pushed on it after that.

The rest of the day remained tense. Vash left the bathroom to maintain their cover, but honestly, he probably could’ve stayed. Luida never came back, and whoever dropped off his dinner bailed after leaving the food. Vash hummed his tune the whole dinner and didn’t ask for a story. Wolfwood told one anyway, just to fill the silence. “So, pretty much everyone at that point is lying about the fabric to be polite…probably didn’t want to get executed, either, you know what it’s like with rich people…”

Vash stopped humming and dropped his spoon.

Lights cut off, replaced by emergency red lighting and a distant siren somewhere in the ship. “...shit…”

“Put the cuffs back on me,” Vash said.

“What?!”

“Just do it!” Vash’s eyes blazed in the red light as he held out his hands. “Put them back on and hide!”

“What, do you think they’re coming for you?”

“No. I need them to let me out.”

“Why?!”

“Nico, please!”

There was a fire in his eyes that Wolfwood hadn’t seen since he was last in the room with adult Vash. It was enough to make him put the handcuffs back on. “You owe me an explanation later,” he said.

“Later! Go!”

The second Wolfwood shut the bathroom door, Vash started pounding on the door to his room. “Hey! Hey! Someone! I need to talk to Luida! Hey!”

Muffled voices outside. Footsteps. Eventually, Wolfwood heard what sounded like Luida, though he couldn’t make out individual words. He could hear Vash loud and clear, though.

“Did something happen to the plant?! I can hear her! The Plant is calling out for help!” His little body hit the door, over and over, as if he could batter it down if he tried hard enough. “Let me meet her! She’s fading! At this rate, she…”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Then…the door opened.

Vash took off like he’d been shot from a gun, leaving Wolfwood alone. Do I go after him? Do I wait? He could get caught if he left, but he didn’t like the idea of Vash being alone with those people. And what did he plan on doing, anyway?

Hope you know what you’re doing, kid.

He picked at his cuticles and pushed on his shin bruise. He almost prayed, if you could call it that. It was more like an impotent threat aimed in a general upwards direction. He’d better be okay, he’d better come back, he’d better be okay…

The lights came back on.

It was another long eternity before Wolfwood heard the door open again. “...get some rest, okay? We can talk about it more in the morning.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Vash.”

The door closed. Wolfwood waited. And waited. His impatience finally got the better of him. When he cracked open the door, Vash was alone, slumped against the window seat, eyes half-closed. “Coast clear?” Wolfwood called.

“...mmm? Yeah. Sorry…”

Vash moved to their usual spot, and Wolfwood joined him. “What happened back there?” Wolfwood asked, already shrugging off his jacket and wrapping Vash in it.

“...I don’t know? I could just…” Vash stared down at his hands. “...feel her. Feel what was wrong. And if I reached back to her, I could…fix it somehow.” He yawned. “She’s okay now.”

“That’s…good. Glad to hear it.” The cuffs came back off easily. “You get some sleep, okay?”

“Hmm.”

Vash dozed off with his head on Wolfwood’s knee again. Wolfwood kept one hand on his shoulder and stared out the window, watching the moons move across the sky. Mulling over what had happened.

How can he feel so different now? Wolfwood didn’t have a word for it–more a feeling than anything. He remembered the spike of adrenaline he’d felt seeing Vash in the steamer’s Plant room, then again in that tank in July. A harsh introduction and a harsher reminder: this guy wasn’t human. He was something beyond that. Something strong enough to apparently fix a dying Plant, and yet…

At the same time, a fragile little kid, stuck in a world that didn’t understand him.

What a mess.

It was messed up, but the best outcome Wolfwood could hope for was that Vash had won himself some goodwill with the rest of the crew. People being okay with him because he was useful wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.

I think we’ll both take whatever he can get now.

.

Vash ate every bite of breakfast himself the next morning and Wolfwood didn’t care. Poor kid was clearly starving. Didn’t stop Vash from apologizing every five bites. “Seriously, kid, I don’t care, you…”

Someone knocked on the door. They both scrambled back to position–Vash on the window seat, Wolfwood wedged in the shower–and waited.

“You saved a lot of lives today, Vash,” Luida said. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing. I just did what I could.”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and mentally added kicking the overblown modesty out of him to his mental checklist of shit to cover while he was here. The thought was derailed by a slight chirping, and Luida telling Vash to come with her. Three sets of footsteps left, again leaving Wolfwood to wonder if he should have tried to follow.

Right, sure, just crawl out of the bathroom like a horror story monster. That’ll definitely work out…

Wolfwood straightened up.

He felt it before he heard it–a skin-crawling sensation up his spine, the feeling of the air moving around him. The whispered nico was just proof. A new tear had opened up, seemingly in the bathroom wall but clearly leading to someplace beyond the ship’s exterior.

“...now? Seriously?!” He should have been jumping for joy and he knew it. The longer he stayed here, the bigger the risk that he’d be caught, and God only knew how he’d explain himself if he was. More than that, he did want to get away. He shouldn’t have been here this long. He was a cancer on the kid’s life and he knew it.

But Vash had been relying on him. He might’ve been ill-suited for the job, but he was all the kid had. Unless things had changed on the ship…but how could he trust that they had? That he wouldn’t just be torn apart the second someone decided that Vash was a threat? “But he still…”

nico!

The call was urgent. Wolfwood could feel it deep in his gut: if he didn’t jump now, he wouldn’t get another chance. And whatever was on the other side, he had to get there. It was important.

But I can’t just leave. Not without saying something. There has to be something…

He scrambled through his pockets again. The one pen he found was almost entirely out of ink (probably stolen from Meryl, now that he thought about it), but it would do. He unwrapped one of the lollipops–the same one he’d tried to give Vash that first night–and scribbled his last message on the blank side of the wrapper.

Had to head home. Emergency. Sorry. You did a good job, kid. Will see you later.

He almost didn’t add that last part, because Wolfwood didn’t like making promises he couldn’t keep. But so far they’d run into each other twice, and…

Wolfwood tucked the note behind Vash’s picture of Knives and Rem, popped the lollipop into his mouth, and stepped back into the bathroom one last time. He stopped at the tear to listen to the echoing voice calling his name. He’d mistaken it for Livio the first time because of the nickname, but now he knew. It was hard not to notice after a week in close proximity to him.

It was Vash–his young voice and his old mixing together, calling out from the other side of whatever this was. Calling out for him.

Wolfwood sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Needle Noggin,” he whispered. “I really do.”

This time, when he stepped through, he did say a prayer. Let him be okay. I don’t know if anyone’s listening, but let him be okay without me.

Please.

#trigun #trigun stampede #this is so so long thank goodness for read mores #fic: the unknowable tomorrow

[punkrockgirlalmighty]

Something broke inside of Carlos and with a gasp he arched his head back, twisting a fist up into TK’s hair and pulling his head down as he craned up to connect their lips.

This was what he wanted; TK’s tongue seeking out his own, his hand curling around his hip as he pulled Carlos back against him, to swallow up the needy moans TK was letting out.

He wanted TK to latch on to the hollow at the base of his neck and leave his own mark there right next to the cross.

He wanted to be able to wear them both with pride.

They tumbled sideways onto the bed and Carlos rolled onto his back as TK straddled his hips, diving back down to keep kissing him.

A loud clanging sound from the kitchen had them snapping apart. Carlos pulled a pillow over his crotch as TK tried to fix his hair.  It took them both a minute to realise no one was coming into the room.

TK laughed nervously. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted you to.” Carlos raised the pillow off of his lap to show TK what he had done to him. “See.”

“Carlos,” TK groaned. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re both leaving again in a few weeks.” TK sounded frustrated.

“Can’t we just pretend until then?” Carlos knew he wasn’t thinking entirely with his upstairs head when he said it, and that it would inevitably lead to more heart ache when their time together ended again, but he also knew he wouldn’t regret it.

TK’s eyes raked over him, pensively taking him in as he considered what Carlos was suggesting until his mouth spread into a slow grin. “Yes. Yes. Please let’s do that.”

Then he was on him again, discarding the pillow to one side so he could connect their hips and grinding down. It was like no time had passed as Carlos let the taste and smell and feel of TK on top of him overwhelm him. It wasn’t until TK was kissing down his chest, his hands climbing underneath his shirt to push it up, that a thought struck him. “Have you been with anyone else?”

TK stilled and rested his chin on Carlos’ stomach, looking up at him from beneath alluring eyelashes. “Do you really want to know that?”

Carlos thought it about it for a moment. He definitely didn’t want to have to admit to TK that he’d been with several boys since him and it would shatter every illusion he was trying to create if he pictured TK with someone else. They had the holiday to be together and he had condoms, that was good enough for him.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Me neither,” TK said before reconnecting his lips with Carlos’ skin.

There was another crash from down the hall and Carlos groaned. “We can’t do this here.”

TK sighed and started to pull away. “My dad isn’t working tonight, he’s at home too.”

They stared at each other despondently. Carlos thought about his car but he didn’t know anywhere he could drive them that they wouldn’t risk getting caught and it was too cold for it to be fun anywhere outside. Memories from senior year flooded him and he looked at TK hopefully. “Treehouse?”

TK’s eyes lit up. “Treehouse!”

.

.

technically not wednesday yet but I am moving back to Australia tomorrow and since it is tomorrow there already here is a snippet of the 'tis the damn season fic

also the last time I moved to Aus was right before covid and I didn't get to see my family or friends for 2.5 years and it turns out I am not a fierce independent bad bitch but a bitch who very much can't survive without hugging her mama at least once every 6 months so I have been super stressed the past week and couldn't work on this fic much. I am hoping once I am settled back in Australia I will get this finished (also I am a really slow writer - like it takes me all day to write a thousand words, how people churn out 10k a week I'll never know - so it is probably going to be a while until this is done because I have written 30k and am about half way through)

So anyway , please give a very anxious and panicked girl some validation :)

#wip wednesday #tarlos fic #wip #my fic #tarlos #911 ls fic #911 lone star fic

[shwoo]

I wasn't able to do (e: sign up for) the Bugsnax secret Santa, but here's an unsecret... Santa... fanfic. (Note: The fanfic has nothing to do with Santa or Christmas) (Note again: I promise I also write stories that aren't about medical issues)

...What do you mean Christmas is already over.

Title: Floofty Goes Home Summary: Nine-year-old Floofty has had a hard day at school, and just wants to go home and read their book. Six-year-old Snorpy just wants to find out where his friend went. (Also on AO3)

.

Floofty Fizzlebean was nine years old, and already completely over having to go to school. They'd managed to avoid getting pushed over today, and it had been a week since anybody had grabbed their glasses and tried to throw them over the fence, but there was nothing they could do about the asinine requirements that the the school itself set. Today had been a group work day, and, as usual, Mx Puddlefoot had needed to intervene before anyone would deign to let Floofty in their group. Floofty could have done all the work on their own, but no. The lesson was nominally about geography, but secretly about creativity, teamwork and sharing ideas. As though their classmates had any ideas worth sharing.

But now it was all over, until tomorrow. All they had to do was collect their little brother and walk home, and they could finally get some reading done.

They'd finished all their maths exercises early, and could have read their book then, but apparently that would have been disruptive, or something like that. They could even have finished off their spelling test from earlier in the day, but instead, they'd just been given more maths work. What did they even teach these teachers during teacher school? Obviously not how to keep from cutting off their students before they'd even got to point two of their reasonable explanations.

Floofty found Snorpington in front of the school's main entrance, as usual. He was looking around, which was less usual. He stared at Floofty, and said "N… no, not yet!"

Now Floofty was going to get another low grade in spelling, even though it wasn't their spelling that was the problem. The teachers just couldn't read their handwriting, unless Floofty wrote very slowly and very carefully. If the school wanted them to write more neatly, they should teach that. Not just sometimes tell them they were too old to hold a pencil in their fist like that…

"Go back inside!" said Snorpington, breaking into Floofty's thoughts. "We can't go home yet!"

"What?" said Floofty. "Why not? School is over, isn't it?" They'd tried holding the pencil differently, but it had just made their writing worse.

"I have a comic book," said Snorpington. He produced a thin, green book, which was worn at the edges. The cover showed what appeared to be two planets colliding violently. "I need to give it back to Chandlo, but he's nowhere to be found." He looked around again. "I told him I'd return it after school, he should be here!"

Chandlo. That was one of Snorpington's little chums, which he was young enough to still have. "Chandlo can read?" said Floofty. Snorpington had been able to read before even starting school, but Floofty couldn't remember what was typical for other six-year-olds.

Snorpington looked at the book. "Hm? Yes. Of course. But he's not here!"

Floofty sighed. "He likely already returned home. As we should be doing." They technically could leave him and go home alone, but it would be very irresponsible of them. Their father had given them several lectures on responsibility and looking out for their younger brother.

"He did not go home!" Snorpington insisted. "I fear that he-- that something dreadful happened."

Floofty thought about their book. It was about evolution, and what little they'd managed to read so far had been fascinating. "Then I suppose we had better look for him," they said, and hoped that this time, it wouldn't take too long to convince him that everything was fine. Snorpington had quite an imagination on him, as their father said.

They walked around to the main schoolyard. Floofty had never bothered to commit their brother's associates to memory, and wasn't sure what exactly they were looking for. Was Chandlo the small, purple one? Or was it… green, maybe? Floofty didn't know how they'd been able to tell any of their peers apart before their fang teeth had started growing in.

There was a surprisingly large crowd gathered near the playground area, so they were probably going to have to inspect every child in the crowd individually until Snorpington was satisfied.

A dark teal girl in a hardhat broke away from the group and headed in their direction. "Uh… Snorpy," she said when she was close enough. She pointed back at the playground. "Don't go over there."

She walked away in the opposite direction, as Snorpington did his best to speak. He'd been having trouble speaking around others since he'd started school, and it didn't matter how many times Floofty told him not to care what the other children thought of his speech style. He'd even tried to copy the way the other children spoke, and that had just made them laugh at him more. Their mother said he'd grow out of it, but that had been more than a year ago.

When she was gone, Snorpington finally managed to get out the words "Wha-- why?" He turned to Floofty. "Floofty, what did she mean?"

"Clearly, something is going on," said Floofty, who didn't want to admit that they had no idea what Snorpington's acquaintance had meant. "Perhaps something dangerous?" They were supposed to keep their brother out of danger, but their curiosity had been very piqued just now.

Snorpington marched over to the playground, making Floofty's decision for them. The children were clustered around a spot between the slide and the tunnels, and suddenly Floofty wanted to hit something, though they had no idea why.

The space between the slide and the tower came into view just in time for Floofty to catch a glimpse of a child Snorpington's age hitting a smaller child and sending him to the ground. There, two more children appeared to be kicking him.

Snorpington was having trouble speaking again. "Ch… Ch…!"

Floofty walked forward until one of the bullies noticed them.

"Oh grump," she said. "who's that?"

"I don't want to know!" said a second bully.

They ran.

"H…!" said Snorpington, moving to chase them.

Floofty reached out and grabbed him to keep him from doing anything stupid, then turned to the crowd, who had started whispering.

"Is that Snorpy's creepy sibling?"

"My sister says they do experiments. Evil experiments. With rats."

Floofty did not, but they did want them to go away. "I also eat Grumpuses," they found themself saying, and opened their mouth as wide as they could to demonstrate.

They'd opened their mouth so wide that they could only see directly upwards, but they thought they heard the onlookers scatter. They closed their mouth again.

Snorpington shrugged off their grip and run towards the child on the ground. Floofty followed. Some of the feeling seemed to be coming back into their brain, and they noted that this child was small, slim, and green.

Maybe Snorpington had been right, for once.

Snorpington knelt down. "Chandlo? Chandlo, are you awake? Are you cognisant?" He could sort of speak around his friends, though according to him, he still didn't say much.

Chandlo mumbled something. Close up, he looked more like a preschooler than a school-aged child, and those other children had probably done some real damage.

"He does not know that word," said Floofty, kneeling down as well. Chandlo did not look good. Some of his fur had been pulled out, and some of it was matted with what was either dirt or blood. And there was something concerning about the way his left leg was lying.

Snorpington glanced in Floofty's direction. "I don't care."

Floofty squinted. "Are you crying?"

"No!" said Snorpington tearfully.

Floofty would have loved to argue the point, but there were more important things happening right now. "Well, he'll need to go to the nurse, but moving an injured person is… discouraged." They weren't even sure why that was, although they had some idea that it would make the injuries worse. "We would need… perhaps a stretcher?"

They held their arms out in front of them, and frowned. They had good reach, but not quite good enough to lay an entire six-year-old flat on top of their arms. Even one Chandlo's size.

Snorpington said "Your binder!"

"What?" said Floofty. Their binder was much too small to use as a stretcher. Besides, all their documents were in there. They thought about making a cradling gesture, but that wouldn't work either. They'd have to bend their elbows, and they'd have even less room than before.

"Er…" said Snorpington. He started speaking quickly, and making excited gestures. "Your binder and your arms have greater length put together than Chandlo. You can combine them, and if I steady the other end…"

"I see…" said Floofty, as they tried to picture what Snorpington was talking about. That could work. Their binder had some very nice stickers themed around DNA and cell structures, which had taken a lot of visits to a lot of stationary outlets to find, but they didn't have a better idea. They'd have to get it dirty. Even when bullies weren't directly trying to wreck their things, they still found ways to wreck their things. "That may be the most parsimonious solution." They weren't certain that was the right word, but they liked the sound of it, and their mother wasn't around, so the risk of using it was low.

They pulled their binder out of their bag and held it over Chandlo, who seemed to having trouble keeping his eyes open. Yes, it was wide enough. It probably would work. They put the binder under his legs and rolled him onto his back, then slid their arms under his head and grabbed the binder. Snorpington took the other end of the binder, and they lifted him up.

Chandlo whimpered.

"Do not jostle him!" said Floofty, as they manoeuvred towards the school building.

"I'm aware!" said Snorpington. He was looking more at Chandlo than at where he was going. As soon as Chandlo made another sound, Snorpington said "You're hurting him!"

"I am doing no such thing!" said Floofty. They were holding their arms as straight as they could. Maybe Snorpington could try shaking less. Floofty was doing most of the actual lifting, anyway.

Somehow, they made it inside, and to the nurse's office.

The nurse looked around as Floofty bumped open the door. He was a tall, pale yellow Grumpus with an overbite, whose name Floofty couldn't remember. "Oh-- Chandlo, not again!" He picked Chandlo up and put him on the bed. "Thanks for bringing him in, you two."

Floofty brushed the dirt off their binder and waited, in case they still needed to answer any questions. They watched with interest as the nurse examined Chandlo. The Grumpus body was such a fascinating machine. They had consistently identified medicine as a possible career path, though maybe not the kind of medicine where you had to deal with patients. An example of why that was a problem was right in front of them, with the nurse clearly trying to get Chandlo's attention, while Chandlo failed to really respond. They didn't know how the nurse kept his patience.

"Well," said the nurse at last. "He's got a couple cracked ribs and a broken leg, and I think-- I hope-- Uh, he's got a concussion. I can't do a heck of a lot here. I'm gonna call his parents, they've gotta take him to the hospital."

"I see," said Floofty, as the nurse picked up the phone. Chandlo was with a medical professional who had no further questions, and that meant they could leave. "Come along, Snorpington."

Snorpington shook his head and mouthed something.

"What?" said Floofty, annoyed. They leaned in closer so that Snorpington could talk to them.

"We can't," Snorpington whispered.

"Why not?" Floofty demanded, then remembered to keep their voice down while an adult was on the phone. "Why not?" they said again, more quietly. "Your friend is safe, and awaiting medical treatment. A concussion is the mildest form of brain injury!" Or maybe it was the medical term for any brain injury. They couldn't remember right now.

Snorpington wrung his hands. "We… can't leave now."

"Whatever horrible fate is plaguing your imagination is mere fantasy!" Floofty whispered. "He is safe."

"A conclusion d-drawn from sub-- erm, from incon-- bad evidence!" Snorpington responded. He was obviously fighting tears again.

Floofty pointed at the door. "The school day has concluded! I wish to go home, and we are not even allowed to be in here."

"That's okay, you can stick around," said the nurse, who'd got off the phone at some point. "At least until Chandlo's dad shows up."

"W--" said Floofty. "Really?" If they didn't have adult backing, then they were stuck humouring their brother for a little while longer. "In that case, I must also use the phone, so that I may inform our parents of our whereabouts." They doubted either of their parents would be home before them, but it was better to be safe. Sometimes they came home early. or maybe there'd be yet another delay Floofty hadn't foreseen.

"Sure thing, kid," said the nurse. He picked up the phone, and sorted through a large binder with his other paw. "Hey-- What's your name?"

"I am very much capable of dialling a phone without assistance," Floofty huffed. How old did he think they were?

"I believe you," said the nurse, "but if I give you this phone and you dial some other number, then I'm the one who gets in trouble."

"Oh…" said Floofty, who hadn't been aware that adults could get into trouble. "Very well then. My name is Floofty Fizzlebean. That is Bean with an A."

The nurse started flipping through the book, and said "Kid, you're adorable." He dialled the phone and handed Floofty the receiver.

"Er," said Floofty, "thank you." They weren't sure what they'd done that was adorable, but at least he hadn't told them they were being rude.

The phone rang until they got the answering machine, as Floofty expected. Their father wouldn't be home until after five, and this semester their mother taught on Tuesdays until well into the evening.

When the message had finished giving their parents' full names and occupations, Floofty said "This is--"

The answering machine beeped.

"Ahem," said Floofty. "This is your child, Floofty Fizzlebean. Snorpington and I may return home at a later time than is customary. Snorpington insists upon remaining until his injured chum can be transported to hospital. With luck, this will occur in short order. Farewell."

They got off the phone, sat on a chair, and took their book out of their bag. Maybe they could get some reading done now. Or they could watch the nurse splinting Chandlo's leg. They didn't get to see that kind of thing very often. His leg already seemed to be swelling, though the nurse had put ice on it while Floofty had been on the phone.

They were having trouble getting comfortable, though. Maybe it was the plastic of the chair, which seemed to be catching the fur on their legs every time they shifted position. Or maybe it was Snorpington's quiet sniffling. Floofty knew that his friend would be fine, and they could keep on telling him that that until the next ice age if they wanted, but Snorpington was so young. Logic didn't always work on him.

They knew what would, though. They stood up. "Excuse me. I will return shortly."

A couple of minutes later, they came back with a packet of G&Gs from the nearest vending machine. They'd considered getting something for themself, but they were saving. Microscope lenses and heart rate monitors didn't buy themselves.

"Here," they told Snorpington.

"Th-- thank you," Snorpington whispered. He ripped open the packet, and started tossing the little ovals into his mouth one by one. He always claimed it made the taste last longer.

With that taken care of, Floofty finally went to find their place in their book. This chapter was about complex-looking attributes that had evolved in less complex stages, and it had just been talking about eyes. Apparently early eyes had operated like a pinhole camera, and Floofty made a mental note to tell Snorpington about that when he was feeling more receptive. He'd probably appreciate it.

The book went on to talk about the leading theories for the evolution of egg-laying in Grumpuses. What was clear was that, since bears gave live birth, it must have happened in the last ten million years, which was consistent with the fossil evidence. The mechanism also appeared to be completely different to the egg-laying mechanism in monotremes, despite the claims of some early scientists.

It then spent a lot of time setting the scene of a hot, chaotic environment inhabited by early grumpids that it claimed would help explain what came later, but before Floofty could get to the science, Chandlo said "Snorpy! You are here!"

"Chandlo!" said Snorpington, loudly.

Floofty winced, and looked up from their book as a single G&G clattered to the floor. Apparently, Snorpington had been so emotional that he'd missed his mouth. Maybe Chandlo could convince him it'd be better to go home.

"What happened?" said Snorpington.

Chandlo frowned, and started to sit up.

"Stay down," said the nurse.

Chandlo stopped trying to sit up, and said "I… don't know. They said… something… I ruined their fun? But… I can't stop now."

"Y-you should stop!" said Snorpington. "You're getting injured!"

"Listen, Chandlo," said the nurse. "I appreciate what you're doing here, but you're in here all the time, and it's not your job to stop bullying everywhere. I wish I could tell you us grown-ups have it covered, but…"

Was that what Chandlo was doing? Defending other children from bullies twice his size? That was never going to get him anywhere. Except the emergency room. Everyone knew the school would never do anything. Floofty's parents had made many phone calls, and they understood that other parents had done the same.

The nurse put a paw against his head, then said "Uh… Listen, you can't defend other people if you're not in good shape, okay? You're not really built for this kind of thing, anyway."

"Then I'll get stronger," said Chandlo, like that was an obvious thing.

"No, what we need… we need better deterrents!" said Snorpington. "Body armour… recorded proof… laser pointers!" He was waving his arms around again.

Chandlo said "That's the longest I've ever heard you talk."

Snorpington dropped his arms to his sides, looked at the floor, and mumbled something. Weirdly, he seemed to be smiling.

"Under ordinary circumstances, Snorpington is in fact quite talkative," said Floofty, and went back to their book. It looked like Chandlo wasn't going to be talking their brother out of anything.

The book had gone on a brief tangent about lizards when the door opened to reveal the biggest Grumpus Floofty had ever seen. He was bright blue, and very muscular. "Little dude!" he said, running to Chandlo's side. "What happened?"

"Blue dad!" said Chandlo. "I'm okay. I got jumped by bullies, but Snorpy and Floofty helped me."

Floofty flinched. How did Chandlo know their name? They'd never told it to him, and they were sure he hadn't been awake enough to hear them talking to the nurse.

"He is not okay, and he needs to go to the emergency room," said the nurse severely.

"Oh yeah," said Chandlo.

He started to get out of the bed, and his father caught him before his feet could touch the floor.

"Whoa! Careful there, little dude. Broken leg, remember?" Chandlo's father looked at the nurse. "Thanks for taking care of him." He looked at Floofty and Snorpington. "You too, kids."

As he carried Chandlo out of the room, Chandlo said "Can green dad let me work out with you now?"

His father's answer was lost in the sound of the door closing.

Floofty stood and put their book away. "Now, do you have any further objections to leaving?"

"Hm?" said Snorpington, who looked lost in thought. At least he wasn't crying anymore. "Yes. I would like to go home." He looked at the nurse, and began to stutter. "Th… Thaa…"

Floofty felt themself relax. They'd genuinely been worried that he'd have some other reason to delay the end of the school day. "Good. Then let us leave."

The nurse said "No problem, kid." He sighed. "I just wish I could do more."

Floofty was glad they'd already done their homework. They were exhausted.

But they were beginning to form a few ideas about dealing with the bullies their age. It was interesting, the way those small bullies had run away at the sight of them. Very, very interesting.

#Bugsnax #Floofty Fizzlebean #Snorpy Fizzlebean #Chandlo Funkbun #fanfiction #Shwoo's writing #I had a lot of fun writing Floofty and Snorpy's interactions #And writing Floofty being smug and wordy all over the place #Not super happy with the prose but it's done now #I didn't put the answering machine message in the story because it would have dragged to much but both of Floofty's parents are chemists #Their dad is an industrial chemist and their mum is a research chemist and they both have PhDs #It was surprisingly tedious to type out Snorpington instead of Snorpy every time and I think that name might be bigger than he is here

[mable-stitchpunk]

Going Home in a Box: Chapter 49 Teaser

(In case I don’t finish tonight, here’s a taste of tomorrow. ^_^)

Mike might’ve sounded tired on the phone, but he looked downright exhausted in person.

He had called a little before noon claiming he had wanted to come into work and ended up replacing Fritz when he went with Natalie to the Pizzaplex. He had insisted on it, and he seemed alert enough when he had come in. Though he had been nursing a cup of coffee so that could’ve been helping him through. He intended on going right back and finishing out the shift, letting Fritz and Natalie have an afternoon together.

Except he looked like he was barely going to make it through the following conversation with Scott. He didn’t look alert enough to even hold a conversation, let alone formulate some kind of plan to crack the case of the elusive security footage. Fritz and Natalie quietly exchanged concerns through brief words and looks.

Eventually Fritz tried to broach the subject with a, “How are you holding up?”

Mike gave a noncommittal, “I’m standing,” and shrugged the question off.

Normally Fritz was fine with Mike’s sarcastic non-answers, but in this case, he found his friend and business partner’s state incredibly concerning.

But before they could dwell on it, the front door opened for them. It was Scott who answered and greeted them with a smile and a, “Hey, you three. Come on in!”

From his lack of surprise, it was evident that Mike must have called him beforehand. From his lack of unease or tenseness of any kind, Mike must’ve left out most of the details. Fritz saw him take notice of Mike’s state. He gave him a onceover as he passed by and his smile softened with sympathy, and he stepped aside to let Fritz and Natalie through before shutting and locking the door behind them.

Ennard and Baby were both waiting for them in the living room. Baby was sitting on the couch with her claw in her lap and her hand resting on it while Ennard stood beside the couch, leaning on the back on his elbow.

Fritz’s eyes were also drawn by an unexpected pink color and spotted the third animatronic present. It was the Bonnie hand puppet he had heard about but hadn’t seen. She noticed his eyes fall on her and froze in place, staring back with wide unblinking eyes with the slightest of trembles shifting through her. Almost like she was vibrating for a second.

“Well, well, well! Look who’s come crawling back to the Clown House,” Ennard greeted in a playfully evil voice. Rubbing his hands together and cackling deviously. “I knew you’d be back! They ALWAYS come back! Ahahaha!”

“It’s great to be here. Really,” Fritz played along.

The pink bunny jumped when he started talking and suddenly lost her nerve. She turned and buried herself behind the pillow beside her, pushing it up the block her from view and even pulling her ears in. Not that it did much to hide her. Natalie gave a little ‘aww’ from beside him, so she must’ve noticed it too.

“Good afternoon, Mike, Natalie, Fritz. It is a pleasure,” Baby politely greeted. “No Charlie or Marion today?”

“Still at the pizzeria,” Mike answered.

“Good to see you too, Baby. How’s it been?” Natalie greeted.

“Quiet, thankfully. Until you showed up, but I suppose that is to be expected.”

Everyone in that room had become accustomed to Baby’s eloquence and knew not to take her seriously.

“Can I get you anything?” Scott offered. Mike, tired and possibly missing that he was referring to a drink, cut straight to the chase.

“We need your help,” he said, pointing at the older man with both hands. “You said something about having a buddy on the inside of Freddy’s, right?”

“Pretty much. He’s a former employee from back when I was working there… which he had to leave off his resume to get the job. But yeah, we’re still friends,” Scott answered.

“Which means he would have an employee account. That’s what we’re looking for,” Mike explained.

“Sure!…Well, technically I have an employee account too.”

“What? How did that happen?” Mike asked in disbelief.

“So, remember how I have a Fazbear Entertainment email account? Yeah, I just used that and pretended I forgot my password for my employee login and ended up, you know, making an employee login. Heh, not sure how I managed to slip that one past them. But, uh, all it really does is let me get to a few more sections of the Fazbear Entertainment website. It’s not really good for anything.”

“It might be good for one thing,” Natalie said, perking up at the mention of this extra account. “Do you have any idea what your security clearance could be? Or your friend’s?”

“Security clearance? I… I have no idea. I don’t even know if they were doing security clearance when I was working there. It was just a pizzeria… with a really high mortality rate,” Scott awkwardly admitted. “I don’t even know how the company’s run now. They’re not hiring old employees and they’re not run by any of the old owners as far as I know, so there’d be no reason to put in my information.”

“But they might if they have your email,” Natalie said matter-of-factly.

“…Good point. Yeah, they might.”

“That’s downright brilliant. Forget the person on the inside. YOU’RE on the inside,” Mike complimented. Scott smiled at that.

“In which case if they did have your credentials, do you think you’d have any sort of security clearance?” Natalie asked. Scott’s smile waned.

“Well… Maybe. I-I did hold a management role for a while- but that could just as easily give me no security clearance. I mean, you can’t really say the Freddy’s were ran well,” Scott explained. He seemed a little more off-put by the line of questioning, though less by their bluntness and more with what he had to be out with. He stole a look to Ennard before offering, “But that guy’s working there as a technician, I think. Something like that. He probably has real clearance. Like, clearance that’s not going to buckle the second they realize he’s not actually an employee.”

“That’s a good point too. Alright, then we’ll stick to him. Do you think there’s any way you can ask your buddy for his login information?” Mike asked.

“…Suuure, but what’s this all about? Before I go and ask him, I mean. What’s going on?” Scott asked. He was finally starting to catch on, his voice holding a shred of suspicion. The concerned kind, like he could tell that last night had happened.

Well, of course he could. It was written all over Mike’s face. Underlining along the dark marks under his eyes. Mike looked to Natalie who gestured a hand either as a shrug or a ‘go ahead’, to which he decided to.

“We’re trying to get security footage out of the Pizzaplex. Natalie’s login kept bringing up an error and the only other security guard didn’t have a high enough clearance, so we’re looking for another way in.”

“And I find it very suspicious that I’m the only one who can’t get in. Unless his login was a fluke, but I’m thinking it might’ve been more than that,” Natalie said. “I’m already on the verge of being framed and blackmailed.”

“Wait, you’re trying to get security footage?” Scott asked in surprise. “Why, to delete it?”

“Can’t be that that. A little birdie told me that footage erases itself on its own,” Ennard volunteered.

“No, we’re not. We’re going to try to get ahold of it and see if we can get evidence of Ness- Vanny… the rabbit woman who keeps messing up the cameras. There was an incident last night and she’s gone too far. Now we have to deal with her, and since I couldn’t get the footage myself, we’re looking for other ways to get ahold of it. Otherwise, I’m going to have to smuggle a camera in there, cross my fingers, and hope she doesn’t start swinging,” Natalie laid out.

“Oh, that actually sounds pretty cute. A bubbly blond and a buxom bunny duking it out in the middle of a mall,” Ennard joked coyly. Natalie gave him a look and he snickered a little. It almost seemed like the comment flew over his head until he ventured to ask, “Now how far was too far? Couldn’t have been someone getting hurt, you guys seem a little too ehh… mellow. What was that a minute ago? Framed and blackmailed?”

“Yes,” Natalie tiredly drawled.

“And you said her name is Vanny? Oh dear. I think I see the framing device as we speak,” Baby remarked.

Natalie groaned and nodded. Fritz put an arm around her both for comfort and as a sort of protectiveness.

“But that’s not even half of what happened last night. We have to get this woman off the street,” Mike said. His tone expressing both his mental exhaustion and a degree of seriousness that clashed with the previously ‘mellow’ tone.

“What happened?” Scott asked soberly.

Mike almost went off into an explanation but stopped himself. His look of tiredness quickly shifting to concern.

“A lot happened,” he simply said.

“Like…?” Scott coaxed.

“Like a lot of intense stuff. Stuff I know is going to freak you out, because it scared the hell out of me,” Mike warned. He knew Scott especially would be a little more effected by the news- not that the present clowns would be any calmer- and wanted to give them a heads up before risking throwing them into a tizzy. “When I say it was bad, it was bad.”

“What happened?” Baby spoke up. Her voice much more assertive, refusing to take a ‘no’ from this point, and that was what finally got the floodgates going. That and Scott giving an encouraging nod for him to continue.

#Going Home in a Box #GHIAB #Update #teaser #chapter 49 #Mike Schmidt #Natalie #Fritz #Scott Caldwell #Phone Guy #Ennard #Baby #Bonnet