[Princess-verse Scrap] .waltz.

blame Silvarbelle, because when you give a mouse a cookie…he’s going to write like 5K+ words of semi-connected domestic batjokes kid!fic epilogue.  Warnings for brief discussion of mental illness, pharmaceuticals, and side effects, plus mature language and sexual references (including consensual violence).

following up on Bruce finding a ten-year-old on his doorstep…  Joker’s first dance as a free man living in the Hall of Justice.

.waltz.

When they were getting ready for bed that first night (after tucking Damian in), Joker hesitantly opened a little bag and started to set out pill bottles on the bedside table.

“Are you embarrassed?” Bruce asked gently.

“I used to talk a big game about them being a waste of time…”  Joker shrugged.  “…but it turns out if it’s the right ones in the right amounts, they actually help.  I don’t go away so much, and I don’t get that feeling like my skin is trying to crawl off my body, and I don’t wanna beat people bloody for no reason.  And I’m not sad all the time like I was every other time the pills sort of worked.  But I get tired sometimes, and I still forget things, and sometimes I feel like I’m not…me…”

Bruce touched his elbow carefully.  “Jay?”

Joker shook his head.  “It’s worth it.  If I can be out here, and have cake whenever I want, and kiss you whenever I want, and see Damian whenever I want, I don’t care what kind of fucked up side-effects they have.”

“It’s up to you, babe,” Bruce assured him.  “But I’m glad they’re helping.  You need any help setting them up?  Cases for dosing?  Timers?”

He shook his head again.  “Thank you.  I got it.”

“Proud of you.  Gonna brush my teeth; yell if you need me.”

He made it three steps before he had a boyfriend attached to his waist.

“Love you, Batsy.”

He stroked the arms wrapped around him.  “I love you, too, Jay.”

Joker hooked his chin over Bruce’s shoulder.  “Dance with me?”

He could never seem to say no.

He turned, stealing a quick kiss as he arranged their hands and led them into a lazy waltz.

Something about dancing—waltzes in particular—had always had a euphoric effect on the Joker.  As long as Bruce had one hand between his shoulder blades and the other cradling slender fingers, he was pliable as warm paraffin.  Turning slowly through the bedroom, bare feet making soft sounds on wood planking and the ornamental rug.

Joker ducked his head with a little laugh.  “Sorry, sorry—” he mumbled, schooling his expression.  “I just realized you’re dancing to Sleeping Beauty.”

He was.  “How do you always know?”

“You always think of Tchaikovsky if there’s no music playing.  And you never slow down Swan Lake or Nutcracker, so if it’s a drowsy sort of waltz, you’re thinking of courtiers with flowered garlands.”

“Sometimes you still surprise me by knowing me so well.”

Joker leaned into a turn with a beaming smile.  “Your head is a very cozy place, darling.  Much nicer than mine.”

“I know I already said it once tonight, but I’m so proud of you.  We agreed on a goal and you went after it with everything you had.”

“The drugs make it easier,” he admitted.  “I don’t do so many things by accident now.  I can stop and ask myself if I can accept the consequences.  So a lot of it’s just…little flitting thoughts.  Passing fancies.  Sometimes, I still—I—”  Joker made a complicated gesture with the hand on Bruce’s shoulder.  “—destroy stuff.  But I can decide what to destroy.  It doesn’t have to be the first guy I see that I don’t give a shit about.  I might still be rough with you sometimes…we like it like that, right?  A kiss with a fist, et cetera.  But you can handle it.”

An easy concession.  “Sure,” said Bruce.  “And if you want to dance—any time, any place—say the word.”

“Hah!  Wouldn’t that be something…”

“I mean it.  If you barged into a board meeting and said, ‘Dance with me right now,’ I would spin you around the conference table while those stuffy old farts gaped and complained.”

Joker was surprised right out of his laughter.  He just blinked, wide-eyed, and kept following where Bruce’s hands directed him.  “Promise!” he demanded with teeth bared.

“I promise, Jay,” Bruce said firmly.

They spun to a stop as Joker slowed.  “Brush your teeth later; I want your mouth on me.”

“Spoiled,” Bruce muttered, but immediately bit a beautiful bruise into Joker’s shoulder.

.End.

love when i progress to the being constantly insecure stage of having a crush and by love i mean i am suffering more than jesus did

Brettsey + 7 general 😊

“Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”

******

“I love you, Sylvie. And I love you because of who you are. I don’t love someone else or love you because I can’t have someone else—“

What is that? Is that someone speaking? No, that can’t be it. She’s alone. She doesn’t remember how she knows she’s alone. She just knows she is.

“I love you and your ability to always give people the benefit of the doubt, the way you twist your watchband when you’re nervous, the fact that you put that picture of you and Amelia up everywhere.”

A little soggy laugh plays through her memory after those words, making her smile and then wince. Ow. What the hell? Where is she? And what is she remembering?

“My feelings are about you and me and not my past. I know that with a hundred percent certainty.”

There’s a flutter in her chest as if those words are some long lost part of her she never knew she was missing. They slide into place in her heart. She has no idea where she is or why the world seems upside down, but those words make sense. Even when nothing else does.

“I’m a little slow on the uptake and it took me too long to see it, but for the first time in my whole damn life I’m not moving on and I’m not letting go. Not when it comes to you.”

Matt. That’s who said those words. Matt.

But when did he say them? And why doesn’t she remember how she replied? She did reply, didn’t she?

Oh, god. No. No, she hadn’t. They’d gotten a call and then—

She winces again and forces herself to open her eyes. There’s splintered wood and a gaping hole about six feet above her, giving her a view of a very high ceiling through the shattered planks. She feels a cold firm surface beneath her. Not concrete, it’s softer than that.

She tries to turn her head and whimpers. The motion causes her muscles to ache, but she can do it. She wiggles her feet and kicks her legs. No neck or spinal injuries. That’s good. That’s very good.

Her brain feels like it’s been shaken up in her skull. Once it stops rattling her mind seems to anchor itself to the present again and the memories come flooding back.

Matt had said beautiful, wonderful words. She’d opened her mouth to reply and the bells went off. A solo call for 61. Man down. Her reply would have to wait — not that she knew what she would have said.

The house at the address they visited looked dodgy, but there was no red x on the outside and the doors and windows weren’t boarded up. She and Mackey had barely given a second thought before heading inside.

But then the floor started to give underneath her and she knew exactly what was about to happen. She pushed Mackey out the front door a second before the wood snapped.

After that, the world went black.

“Sylvie!”

Is that more of her memory? It doesn’t sound as distant as her memory had.

“Sylvie! Call out!”

The fear and desperation in his voice tell her it isn’t a memory.

“Matt! Down here!” She yells. “The floor collapsed! Be careful!” Through the latex of her gloves she thinks she feels dirt. “I think I’m in a crawlspace or a cellar or something!”

“Chief, I’ve got her. The house is structurally unstable. Don’t send anyone in. If we’re gonna get Brett out I need a location on a crawlspace entrance or a cellar door.”

“Copy that. Keep a close eye on her while we search the premises.”

“I’m okay!” She calls up to him, beating him to the punch. She can’t see him. He’s probably standing on the porch just beyond the threshold.

“You always say that,” Matt replies with a scoff.

“Really, I’m fine!”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that this time. Any injuries?” He sounds concerned and a little frustrated. It brings a fond smile to her face.

“I can move my neck and legs and I’m not feeling nauseous so I’m guessing no concussion or spinal and neck injuries,” she answers.

“Captain, we’ve got a cellar door on the right side of the house. It’s padlocked and chained.”

Kidd.

“I’m on my way.” A pause and then. “Sit tight, Sylvie. I’m coming to you. I know you think you’re fine, but do me a favor and try not to move.”

She rolls her eyes but agrees. “Copy that.”

She hears his footsteps walking away from her and sighs anxiously. She just wants to get out of here so they can finish their conversation. She wants a chance to say her piece!

While she waits for them she starts to feel woozy and lightheaded. She tenses as soon as the feeling settles over her. That can only mean one thing. She runs her hands over her body until she finds a growing wet spot on her shirt. The liquid is warm and thick.

Shit.

She reaches up and for the radio on her shoulder and presses the talk button. “Chief, this is Brett. If you’ve got eyes on Mackey tell her 81’s gonna need trauma dressing.”

“What happened to fine?” Casey shouts into the radio, renewed urgency in his voice. “I’m through the locks and chains, Chief. Kidd’s got the jump bag. She’s going in with me.”

“Copy that. Be careful in there.”

She hears the obnoxious squeak of rusty hinges and then quick feet shuffling through over the dirt floors. Casey’s next to her impossibly fast.

“Is that blood?” He asks with a shaky breath as he and Kidd crouch on either side of her. She feels him tugging the hem of her shirt upward. His palor pales considerably once he gets a good look at the wound.

That’s not a good sign.

She hasn’t seen the wound yet, but she doesn’t need to. She can feel how much blood she’s losing. It’s a lot. If she loses consciousness there’s a chance she might not—

They never got to finish their conversation. She has to tell him.

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is—“

“You are literally bleeding,” he huffs, cutting her off. “I don’t think now is the time. Focus on staying awake, Sylvie. We can talk later.”

Kidd grabs the trauma dressings, gauze, and scissors and moves to Casey’s side. Shoving him closer to Sylvie’s head and shoulders.

“You don’t know that. Neither of us do, but I do know you deserve to know how I feel. I need to tell you, Matt.”

“You said you were fine,” he says with a voice full of disbelief and eyes full of tears.

“I thought I was,” she replies sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” he orders while his hands brush her hair out of her face. “Don’t apologize.”

“No, I—I’m sorry for pushing you away. I felt like I had to but I see now I didn’t. I should’ve let you talk—“

“Sylvie, I promise you that doesn’t matter. I never blamed you for asking for space. My head was a mess. It wasn’t on you to help me sort it out. I needed to work that out for myself. You did the right thing for you. I understand,” he assures her, his hand gently cupping the side of her face.

“This is gonna hurt,” Kidd warns her apologetically a moment before she starts packing the gash in her side.

Fuck! She yells out and grips Matt’s arms in a vice like hold. The pain lingers long after Stella finishes. Honestly, Sylvie’s surprised she’s still conscious.

Matt yanks off his helmet and presses his forehead to hers as Stella wraps gauze around her midsection.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he tells her with convincing certainty despite how red and raw his eyes are. “And once we get you out of here, we can have this conversation.”

Kidd leans into her radio and asks for a backboard before she gingerly squeezes Sylvie’s thigh. “He’s right. You’re too tough to be taken out by a little old cut. Trust me, girl. You’ve got this.”

Matt swipes a thumb under her tears and places a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Let’s get you to Med. we can sort the rest out later.”

She grabs onto his shoulders to keep him from pulling away, tugging him closer until her lips brush the shell of his ear.

“I love you too, Matt Casey,” she whispers. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I love you too and I never want you to give me space ever again. Okay?”

He turns his head, quickly kissing the hinge of her jaw, and nods. “Trust me, space isn’t going to be a problem. You’re stuck with me now — for the forseeable future.”

Gallo and Mouch appear with the backboard as Matt pulls away. He puts his helmet back on his head, his Captain’s demeanor returning as he does.

“Chief, we’re coming out.” He says into his radio. “Get an ambo ready to roll.”

Siblings: Chapter Three

AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason was glad he didn’t have any siblings.

There was a point in his life where he longed for an older brother or sister, when he was younger and fluctuating in and out of his mom's apartment that smelled like a different drug every week. Someone to teach him the ropes and beat up the bigger kids when they stole the food he’d found or the pocket money he’d snatched up.

Nowadays he was grateful he didn’t have anyone to share resources with.

Sure, he didn’t have anyone looking out for him, but that was for the best. He couldn’t learn how to survive on his own if he didn’t get hit a few times, right? 

And a younger sibling was out of the question. He couldn’t look after some toddler while he was barely functioning himself. Hell, if he had an older sibling, he wouldn’t have blamed them if this hypothetical sibling ditched him after a month tops.

Attachments in Crime Alley were for people who made gangs, who had followers or brothers-in-arms. That was the best you could get, but don’t expect any of them to risk their lives for you.

A sibling would’ve been seen as a weakness. Someone others could torment to get what they wanted out of him.

He really didn’t want to think about another kid being stuck in this dump with him, either.

It was one of the small mercies of life, that he didn’t have any kin to drag him down.

,

“Why are you here, again?”

“Because unlike you, Father prefers someone do their job efficiently.” 

Jason snorted, side-stepping the henchman who charged him, kicking his leg out and letting him slam his face right into an alley wall.

“I think blasting heads is pretty efficient,” Jason said, twirling one of said guns in his hand as Damian kicked in the face of a second henchman. “But, alas, I’ll have to settle for horrible maiming.” He said, pausing to shoot two fleeing men in the backs of their legs, sending them toppling to the ground.

“Change of heart?” Damian grunted, kicking a goon in the back and using the motion to body-slam into another. “I didn’t think you were capable of such a thing.”

“You wish,” Jason snorted. “Unfortunately, Nightwing would break his no-murder rule just for me if he knew I dared kill in the presence of his majesty with nobody else to be a buffer.” He said with a remorseful sigh.

“Tt,” Damian rolled his eyes, he always made an exaggerated head motion when he did like he was making sure people could tell through the whites of his mask. 

“He’s foolish to think that would do anything.” He said, picking up the unconscious body of one of the goons he’d knocked out and tossing it to the side of the alley. “I’ve killed far more than you could dream of.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jason said, his tone bordering on babying. “But, yeah, ol’ Wing’s got his priorities weird.” He shrugged, letting off another shot when he saw one of the men try to grab what looked like a knife from their scattered supplies.

“Maybe he’s just afraid of us bonding.” He continued, watching as Damian stood before four men splayed on the ground by broken wooden boxes, only two of them barely conscious and cowering away.

“And what, pray tell,” Damian said, psyching out the men by jerking towards them, startling them back against the wall, before turning to Jason with an unamused look. “Would you think to bond over?”

“Let’s see,” Jason hummed, leaning back against the opposite alley wall, gun resting on his shoulder as he counted off his fingers. “History with the League of Assassins, died at one point, killed people, fairly badass if I do say so myself, mothers with horrible morals, should I go on?” He said with a grin.

Damian paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. He thought for a moment before raising his head again to meet Jason’s gaze, a surprising lack of unbridled fury in them.

“Does that not also apply to Orphan?”

Jason paused, caught off-guard. He frowned, recounting off the points he made before staring at Damian, glad that his helmet hid his disturbed expression.

“Damn,” Jason whistled. “Guess the three of us need to bond sometime.”

“I’m sure she will enjoy being included,” Damian hummed, looking over his gloves as one of the seemingly unconscious men behind him opened his eyes. “Though I imagine Father would have some complaints about--”

Now, in Jason’s defense, he hadn’t been paying attention to Bane’s goons. As far as he was concerned, the fight was over. Which was why his attention was on Damian, and not anything around Damian.

Which meant that when one of the men who had been playing possum behind Damian jumped to his feet, gripping one of the wooden boards from the broken boxes in his hand, he barely flinched. In one movement, the man swung the plank of wood like a one-armed batter, connecting with Damian’s head.

Jason jerked the moment the wood hit, immediately sending Damian right to the pavement. He was firing off a shot before he even registered aiming it. The man yelped, falling back and clutching his side as he screamed out swears.

Jason ignored him in favor of crouching down while cursing under his breath, shaking Damian. The kid was blanked for a good few seconds before he jerked and stirred. Not too bad of a hit, not even out for more than a minute. He blinked his eyes rapidly, grumbling incoherently as Jason wrapped an arm around his front, drawing Damian up to his chest.

“B’s gonna kill me,” Jason grumbled, tightening his hold on the boy as he weakly felt around, gripping onto Jason’s arm.

The man wasn’t screaming as much as before, but he was still shouting as he gripped the wooden plank again, yelling about how he was gonna kill Jason or something. He wasn’t really in the mood to care.

Instead, he turned around, still holding Damian upright as he tried to regain consciousness. The man, with one hand still clutching his side, was raising the plank of wood again and waving it wildly around.

“Oh would you shut up?” Jason snapped, aiming his gun.

He fired off two more shots. He didn't pay attention nor particularly worry about where the bullets hit. The man finally slumped against the alley wall, weakly holding himself together and finally shutting his mouth.

Jason holstered his gun, freeing his other hand to wrap around Damian’s chest and hoist him up. Damian was shaking his head, eyes still blinking rapidly.

“The hell?” Damian mumbled.

“B talk to you with that mouth?” Jason lightly teased, shaking Damian slightly. 

Despite that, he still scooped up Damian, letting his head lay on his shoulder as he supported him.

“If you bite me for this, I’m dropping you off the first roof I see.” Jason threatened, stepping over one of the other men strewn out on the ground. “I know you haven’t gotten rabies shots, and I’m not taking that chance.”

There were balconies and window sills along the building to the left of the alley, so he used that. One arm kept a muttering and waking up Damian situated while he jumped between the balconies and used his free hand to grab onto the windowsills. It was a slower going than he normally liked, but he figured carrying Damian like a football wouldn’t go over too well.

The second his head popped up over the roof, he was greeted with the sight of black boots with thick blue stripes. One of the feet was softly tapping with slight impatience.

“Goddamnit,” Jason cursed, thunking his head on the edge of the roof, which was pretty uncomfortable considering his helmet was in the way and he was currently dangling by one arm about four stories up.

“I should’ve figured the sounds of murderous screaming were caused by you.” Dick said, crouching in front of Jason with a cheeky grin that crinkled his domino mask. “Having fun?”

“Right now? Worst time I’ve had in weeks,” Jason huffed, pulling himself up higher to reveal Damian hanging off his shoulder.

Dick’s smile dropped instantly. He reached out as Jason offered Damian to him, quickly taking the kid in the gentlest way that only Dick could pull off. Jason almost teased him for it, treating someone like Damian of all kids as fragile. He could be hit by a semi-truck and walk it off like it was an inconvenience. 

But Dick was clearly on the brink of having a panic attack, and it wasn’t any fun teasing him when that was happening. All it did was rile him up in the ‘I’m going to curl in a corner and try not to cry’ way and not the superiorly funnier ‘I’m going to punch your teeth in’ way like Damian or Tim.

“He’s fine,” Jason assured him, rolling onto the roof as Dick pushed Damian somewhat upright. At least the kid could properly hold his head up now. “Just took a blow to the head, was barely out for a second. More stunned than anything, I think.”

“Being knocked out is not fine.” Dick stressed, holding onto Damian tighter as he started growling and weakly trying to push Dick away.

“He’s getting better!” Jason huffed, gesturing towards him. “The brat’ll live. Honestly, you didn’t treat the rest of us like glass this after we died.”

“You lost all pity for it when you tried to kill everyone and bring up your death every five minutes,” Dick deadpanned, his worry breaking the moment his gaze left Damian. “And for the record, I do worry about you the same way, it’s just that Dam--Robin here is still a child.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Damian grumbled, still trying to peel Dick’s hands off him.

“He speaks!” Jason gave a sarcastic cheer. “Think you’ll live to see another day?”

“What even happened?” Dick demanded, ignoring Jason’s comments as he stood, helping Damian to his feet. 

“Took out some of Bane’s lackeys down there,” Jason said, pointing where he came from with his thumb. “Kid presumably ran off from the old man again and decided to grace me with his presence and help out. Just got a little distracted, he’s fine.”

“Please don’t tell me you killed the guy who did this,” Dick begged, giving Jason an apprehensive look.

“First of all, if I did, he’d deserve it.” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Second of all, no, I didn’t...I think,” He frowned, looking back towards the direction of the alley. “I didn’t actually check. Shot him a few times, though.”

“Okay, okay, stop,” Dick said, raising a hand up. “Every word out of your mouth is making me more anxious by the minute. I’d rather not know.”

“Oh, so when I kill people, it’s a heinous act,” Jason scoffed. “But when a certain ex-assassin lady and demon child kill someone, suddenly you can make excuses.”

“I do not make excuses--”

Damian, with one of his arms freed, batted at Dick with increasing violence until his brother finally released him with obvious hesitation.

“If you two are done bickering like schoolgirls over makeup,” Damian gruffed, pushing himself away. “I believe we are finished here.”

“You could’ve changed ‘schoolgirls’ to ‘Dick and anyone with eyes’ and your statement would’ve stayed the same.” Jason muttered.

“The only thing you know about makeup is how to cover bruises.” Dick retorted, hands on his hips. 

“And you only know how to look like a drag queen with excessive glitter.”

“I’ll have you know I look amazing in drag.”

“Obviously, but that is literally the only makeup you know--”

Jason only cut himself off when Damian attempted to roll his eyes and leave without them, instead swaying and stumbling into his steps. He shot out a hand and grabbed Damian by the back of his cloak like the scruff of a cat, holding him up.

“You wanna do this the easy way or the hard way?” Jason said, pulling him back. “Because I’m not against harming a child if it means I can get you back to the Manor in three pieces at worst.”

Damian growled and looked like he was contemplating spitting on him. Jason held his gaze, knowing that if he took off his helmet to give a proper glare that Damian would take the moment of broken eye contact to bolt or something equally stupid.

Dick’s eyes shifted between the two of them with a mix of nervousness and confusion. 

“...you will be the one to inform Orphan of the bonding meeting, and will be the one to keep her from doing anything abnormally ridiculous, and whatever other messes she causes during and after.” Damian negotiated slowly.

“Deal,” Jason released Damian, pushing him towards Dick. “Can we go now? I’m getting bored of this already.”

“You’re so impatient,” Dick tutted, looking like he was about to pick up Damian before thinking better of it and deciding to just wrap an arm around his side. “And what did he mean by bonding? Are you two actually getting along?” He gasped in a melodramatic fashion.

“We’re bonding over dying, the League of Assassins, and terrible mothers.” Jason said calmly as Dick pulled out his grappling gun, pausing at Jason’s words.

“And killing people,” Damian added.

“And killing people,” Jason nodded wisely. “We’re getting Cass in on it, too.” He said, sidestepping away from Damian’s attempt to kick him and muttering about using names.

“...as the responsible one, I cannot, in good faith, recommend having an amatuer group therapy session.” Dick said after a moment. “As your brother, however, I commend you getting a hobby that doesn’t involve maiming someone.”

“It’s not group therapy,” Jason scoffed, patting his belt down, wondering if he’d remembered to grab a grappling hook of his own. “We’re not softies who talk about our feelings to professionals like some commoners. We bad-mouth traumatic events like the well-adjusted people we are.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You can’t bully me about going to therapy but then get pissy when I so much as joke about leaving.”

“I can and we will.” Jason said, to which Damian nodded in agreement. “Someone in this family has to convince the little ones to find a non-murderous psychiatrist.”

“You realize that you count as one of the ‘little ones,’ right?” Dick raised a brow. “You’re younger than me.”

“I’m an adult.”

“You count as a little one in my heart.”

Jason and Damian made over exaggerated gagging noises, to which Dick rolled his eyes at, despite his smile, as he withdrew his grappling gun.

“Oh hush, both of you. We’ve got a certain someone to check for a concussion.” He chastised.

“I do not have a concussion.” Damian insisted.

“We’re checking, anyway.” 

Damian groaned dramatically, Jason snickering as he shook his head, Dick giving his--their--little brother a light scolding.

They were all going to be the second death of him, he swears.

History Repeating - Part 6

Warning - Teenage Pregnancy 

One evening, you were home alone whilst your parents had gone out for dinner for date night. For you, being pregnant meant you were constantly tired and lazy all of the time. Much to your parents dismay. There were several nights where you’d fall asleep early on the couch with the TV still on, resulting in one or both of your parents tiptoeing around trying to avoid waking you up. 

So, when your parents arrived home late from date night, they had certainly expected to find you fast asleep. Instead, they were surprised to find you wide awake on the couch with a blanket pulled over your body as you watched the TV. 

You weren’t really paying that much attention to the show, it was just on in the background as you scrolled through your phone absentmindedly. When you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside; you threw your phone down onto your lap and looked out towards the front door as it started to open.

“Hey, how was it?” you called out from your spot on the couch.

Your mum’s eyebrows raised in surprise as she saw you, “Hey. We didn’t expect to see you. We thought you’d be asleep by now.”

A sigh fell from your lips as you shook your head in response, “No, I feel kind of uneasy and weird. I can’t sleep.”

Instantly, you saw lines of worry etch themselves into Taron’s face. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Why didn’t you call us?” There was a slight wobble of worry in his voice as he approached you.

You gave a small smile at your parents concern and shook your head, your hand rubbing over your tummy slowly. “No, no, I’m okay. I just keep getting this weird, almost fluttery feeling in my stomach. It just makes me feel uneasy, nauseous maybe. It only happens every so often, I’m sure it’s nothing. It just feels weird, and I can’t sleep.”

“Gracie,” Lily started, an excited glimmer in her eyes, “that’s probably the baby moving.”

Your eyes widened at the realisation and you gasped, pressing your hand to the bump gently, “Wait, really?” Your parents both looked at each other and giggled. “Yes!”

You threw your head back to lean on the back of the couch and placed your hands over your face dramatically. “God! I thought it’d be more obvious than this!”

Taron laughed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, “I’m guessing I won’t be able to feel it yet? I can’t even remember how far along your mum was when I first felt you moving.”

You bit your lip and shook your head slowly. “I can barely feel it myself. I don’t know though. You would know better than me, you’ve done this once before.”

He gave you a half smile, “Yes, but that was a while ago now! It won’t be long now.”

******

Your parents were right. With each day, the movement from the baby was getting more and more obvious. It was as if your baby was constantly practicing a gymnastics routine inside of you. You were slowly getting used to the fluttery feeling, and the feeling of small movements. It filled you with happiness every time you felt it; it was a reminder of the end result.

A few weeks later, only days before your dad was to leave for filming, the two of you found yourself lying on the couch together, a film playing on the TV. Per usual, your eyes were heavy as you tried to fight off the sleep. Taron was tired too, from getting everything ready before he had to leave. He had a lot to do, and he felt like he had to do even more because he was leaving you for a while. He knew his wife would care for you as much as he would but he wanted to be there every step of the way.

Suddenly, there was a stronger, more pronounced movement from your baby, causing you to gasp and press your hand to your stomach where you’d felt it. Taron’s eyes flew open at your gasp and looked at you in concern, “Are you okay?” Without saying anything, you reached for his hand, setting his warm palm against your tummy where you’d felt the kick. You let your eyes close and you breathed out slowly, waiting for it to happen again.

After a few minutes of nothing happening, you let out an annoyed groan, “Oh come on! Please just kick again! Just once! Just for me!”

Taron’s heart skipped a beat as he listened to you speak to your baby, and a warm smile spread across his face. His fingertips travelled over your bump slowly before resting it in the spot you’d originally set it in. “Please, little one,” his voice was soft and his eyes were focused on his hand.

As your dad spoke, you could feel the fluttery movement again, followed by another more obvious kick to the place where his hand was. Taron’s eyes widened when he felt it, and his smile beamed as his gaze met yours. You couldn’t help but copy his expression, your smile matching his.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed out, “I forgot what that felt like! That’s my grandchild!”

You nodded and were about to speak when there was another kick to the same place. You gave Taron a grin, setting your hand near his, “Seems like we have another in the family that loves the sound of your voice, and no, that isn’t an excuse to keep singing around the house.”

*****

The next morning, you trudged down the stairs and walked quickly into the kitchen going directly to the fridge.

“Dad, are you sure you got it?” You asked as your clawed through the fridge examining its contents. You had been up most of the night, unable to sleep, as you mind spun with random thoughts. More specifically, food.

“Yes, look on the third shelf.” He replied as he looked up from a script he was memorising. He chuckled under his breath as he watched you fight your way to the back of the fridge to get what you were craving.

Fresh crunchy watermelon. You had been thinking about it for the last couple of days, you couldn’t get enough. The way it just melted in your mouth as soon as you bit into it. Ugh, heaven. You quickly ripped open the packet of pre-sliced watermelon and devoured the first slice. Exactly what you needed.

Your dad watched from afar, shaking his head slightly at the sight. “I also got you this…” His words didn’t stop you from stuffing your mouth full of food. Taron picked up a tiny white baby grow that had been folded next to him on the table. As the material unravelled it took you a moment to realise what it was. Your eyes grew wide. It was tiny. That was for your baby, your baby! You swallowed what you were eating and slowly walked over to your father.

“Do you like it?” He questioned. You stopped arms reach away from your father. It hadn’t really daunted on you yet that you would have a life so small in your arms. So so small. You wiped your wet hands on your top before reached your hands out and gently taking the baby grow out of your fathers hands. “wow” you muttered under your breath.

Taron watched as you examined the item. “Do you like it?” He asked quietly, “I can take it back if you don’t. I just saw it and…” He stopped what he was saying when he noticed the tears running down your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He got up from his seat and pulled you into a loving fatherly hug.

You melted into his arms, feeling his heart beating fast against your chest. “I don’t know. I guess everything just feels so real now. The kicking, the clothes. This is really happening isn’t it?” You muttered suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Your father pulled back and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Yes. It really is, but it’s exciting. You’re going to blink and you’ll have a baby in your arms. I promise you, this is going to be one of the most exciting moments of your life, so just try to relax and take it all in.” You stayed quiet and listened to the way he tried to calm you.

You pulled the white baby grow in-between you both and looked at it properly. “I love it dad. Thank you. I suppose we should probably start getting everything prepared, shouldn’t we? Times’ just going to fly by.”  You rub your hand over your small bump and smile.

Taron walks back over to where he was sitting and sipped at his coffee. “Can you promise to wait until I come back before you start the nursery. You know how bad your mum is at DIY.” This comment made you both chuckle at the thought.

Initially it had been tough. Lily and Taron had struglled to find a small cheap one bed flat that they could make a home whilst Taron continued to train at RADA. When they finally did, the move had caused a couple of issues but overall it was smooth and simple. The flat was small. Very small. But they made it homely and welcoming.

A few weeks after moving in, whilst Taron had been in class, Lily had decided to get a few bits and bobs for the baby. One of the most expensive items she had ordered was a delicate white cot. She had planned to surprise her boyfriend by setting it up before he came home from class later that evening.

When it finally arrived, she was extremely excited and couldn’t wait to get busy. She immediately emptied the box onto the floor, leaving all the pieces in a massive pile on the floor. Lily scrambled through the planks of wood to find the instruction leaflet, which of course, was laying underneath everything. Lily carefully read through the instructions before getting started.

Lily didn’t know how long she had been piecing everything together for, but before she knew it, she heard the keys being placed in the door and her boyfriends voice greeting her.

“NO! Don’t come through yet!” She yelled as she stood up and looked at the mess in front of her.

“Why? What’s happened?” Taron asked tentatively as he stood frozen to the spot at the door.

“I wanted to surprise you!” She said approaching Taron with tears in her eyes. Taron placed a kiss on his girlfriends lips and smiled.

“You can still surprise me. I’ll just close my eyes.” He announced before squeezing his eyes shut.

Lily groaned and led Taron through the room where she had been building the cot. “You can open them now.” She said sadly. Taron opened his eyes, and to his dismay, he saw what seemed to be pieces of wood forced together with pieces sticking out at all angles. He frowned and walked over to the mess. “What is it?” He asked.

Lily put her head in her hands and laughed sadly, “It was supposed to be a cot, but I couldn’t work it out. I followed the instructions but look! It’s a mess!” This caused Taron to laugh as he reexamined the masterpiece in front of him. He picked up the instructions and then back down at the mess.

“How on earth did you get that?” He laughed and hugged her warmly. “Come on, let’s fix this mess.” He sat down on the ground and pulled Lily down with him.

They spent the rest of the evening pulling everything apart and then carefully rebuilding it to create a beautiful bed for their baby. Lily was so relieved once it was done and she vowed to never attempt anything flat pack ever again!

Tag list - @writingformany @sarahegerton96

Let me know if anyone would like to join the tag list! Thank you for reading! Please like and comment! It means a lot! 

I also apologise for the long wait! 

CHILD SURPRISE | The Witcher - Part One

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: My first request! Thank you so much nonnie! I’m sorry it took me so long and I really, really hope you like and enjoy what I came up with. I’m very aware that this is mostly a shorter and changed recounting from Ep. 6 and that you’d probably wanted to see more of the aftermath, but somehow that’s where my mind went and I had to follow it. Please excuse me if I went totally against your will. I could do a part two if you wanted to? Or rewrite it?

word count: ~ 1.9k

request: Hello! Please could you write something where the reader is Geralt's child surprise (instead of Ciri) and they find out that Geralt said "I'd rather use my child surprise as bruxa bait"? Perhaps set during that mountain scene with Jaskier & Yen? 🌷

warnings: swear words, mentions of death, spoilers for Episode 6 of The Witcher

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You were sitting on a bench in front of the tavern when they came back. The room you were actually supposed to wait in seemed to grow smaller by the minute and your bouncy legs were no longer satisfied with walking the same line up and down while waiting impatiently for Geralt and Jaskier to return.

You hadn’t been travelling around with them for long. As the daughter of a common farmer, you would’ve never travelled with them, but there was that little and annoying law of surprise. Once claimed, the law was inevitable. And well, long story short, your father had been saved by Geralt and kind of insisted on the law as repayment. They then parted ways and Geralt said that he’d come to get was is rightly his. A few years later their paths crossed again and Geralt met his child surprise. You.

You quickly jumped up as you saw them in the distance, running towards them. “What happened? And who are they?” you asked curiously, pointing at an old man, you’d later know him as Borch, and his two female warrior companions.

While Geralt gave you an angry look, otherwise completely ignoring you as he passed, Jaskier hooked your arm in his and pulled you with him. “Nothing a kid like you has to be concerned about,” he said as you both followed the others into the tavern, “but there might be a story coming up.”

x-x

And what a story it would be. You were off to a dragon hunt! You couldn’t believe it! And so the race to the mountaintop began. It was actually a rather pleasant adventure if one forgets about the death of that hirikka creature and Sir Eyck. Having other people around you meant that you didn’t have to spend time with Geralt or better, he didn’t have to spend time watching your every move. Jaskier, however, he probably should have.

“We’ll watch each other’s backs until we reach the next peak, then every man for himself. What say ye?” the dwarf leader asked Borch.

“Let’s go.”

“Go on. I’ll catch up,” Geralt said in your direction, but looked solely at Jaskier and then followed the mage called Yennefer.

You had yet to get properly introduced to her, but you’d seen the glances she had thrown you over the camping fire and during your travels. Each time it felt like cold water running over your back and it was as if your blood turned to ice. “Quick question, do we like her?” you asked Jaskier as you watched Geralt walk away, following his instructions and walking behind the dwarfs.

“I don’t.”

x-x

“Yeah, you’re right, this is a shortcut… do death!” Jaskier exclaimed as he leaned slightly around the curve, glancing warily at the wooden pathway.

“We should turn back,” Geralt said behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, “This is not a place for a little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl!” shaking off his hand you stomped up to Jaskier, following his glance, “I’m not afraid of heights!”

“You heard the girl.” Yennefer grinned and for the first time, her smile was full of warmth and encouragement. The ice in her eyes gone.

“See ya on the other side!” the dwarfs yelled as they passed you and started walking along the floating wooden path.

“Yeah, yeah, yes,” Jaskier mumbled to himself and then turned around to you, “Ladies first then?” But before you could say something Yennefer had already pushed him in front of you, urging him to go on.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur to you. The adrenalin that rushed through your veins and your beating heart the only memory of the horrible accident. You didn’t see how Borch lost his footing, only heard Jaskier scream. The wooden path vibrated dangerously under you and let him push you against his chest.

“Geralt! The planks won’t hold!” Yennefer shouted as another vibration went through the wood, more planks loosening up under your feet. And then you heard Jaskier gasp and Yennefer sigh sadly.

x-x

You were sitting beside Geralt on the stone, overlooking the beautiful yet tragic view, still shaking due to the aftershock.

“Here,” Jaskier wrapped you in a blanket as he took a seat beside you, stroking your back soothly while he turned to Geralt. “You did your best,” he said in the most calming voice he could muster, “There’s nothing else you could have done.”

The wind blew while he waited for Geralt’s response and his hand left your back to join his other one in his lap, as you heard him breathe out. “Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow? We could head to the coast. Get away for a while. A little bit of sea salt never hurt a child.”

Yet again Geralt didn’t say anything, just kept staring into the distance. You three, probably a very unique looking bunch, stayed there in silence, basking in the last sun rays of the dying sun. Then Geralt stood up without a word, making his way to Yennefer’s tent on top of your own resting place.

“Come on,” Jaskier whispered, embracing you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

x-x

The next morning you were awoken by a bird cry. You were laying back to back with Jaskier, sharing the blankets as it got cold during the night. Heaving yourself into an upright position, you realised that you were alone. “Jask? Jask!” you woke him up, nudging his side, “Where are the other ones?”

Jaskier lifted his head with a snort. “Uh,” blinking he looked around confused, sniffed and sat up as well. Then he stood up, still a little bit stiff from sleeping and walked around the camping site. “Geralt? Dwarfs?”

“Well thank you, I could’ve done that myself.”

“Alright, but thanks to me you see the dwarfs over there though,” he said as he pointed to your left and in the distance, you saw little tiny black dots lined up along a path. 

“They’re not moving though. You sure-”

“Yes, let’s go!”

x-x

You had laughed at the dwarfs as you passed them. “Are we… queuing for something?” Jaskier had asked. The moment you and Jaskier had seen the scene in front of you, you started to run.

“Oh fuck!” Jaskier quickly turned around to you, a shocked expression on his face. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

“Really?! Dead bodies everywhere, an old man fell to his death and that’s what you think about?!”

“I’m panicking, okay?! Let me!”

“Yeah, whatever. What hell happened?”

x-x

A lot, apparently. Not that anybody would tell you, or Jaskier for that matter. You were sitting with him, looking down at Borch, Yennefer and Geralt who were talking about things neither you nor the bard needed to hear.

“What happened?” you asked while you scratched the ground, carving tiny lines into the sandy stone floor.

“Hm? Your guess is as good as mine,” Jaskier stated and looked at you.

“No, I mean way back then. How... Why did Geralt save my father’s life?”

“Oh… well, that’s a funny story actually,” Jaskier chuckled embarrassed and scratched the back of his head, clearing his throat.

“How could we ever know?” Yennefer then asked loudly as she stood up which made you and Jaskier snap your heads towards them. “Disregard for other’s freedom has become quite your trademark.”

You couldn’t make up what Geralt answered, but it obviously didn’t help as Yennefer angrily shouted, “I didn’t need your help!”

“Like fuck you didn’t!”

“There, say you heard him from him,” Jaskier mumbled beside you and you punched his shoulder, “Ouch.”

“And you, you flit about like a tornado, wreaking havoc, and for what? So you can have a baby?” Geralt's words made you both look down to them again. “A child is no way to boost your fragile ego, Yen. I would know! I have one now!”

She scoffed. “I’ll take advice from you about children as soon as you take responsibility for the one you bound to you and then abandoned!”

“Abandoned? She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Are you really sure about that? I haven't seen you talk to her once these past few days. If I didn't know better, I'd say she belonged to the bard,” Yennefer said, already walking up the slope you and Jaskier were sitting on. As she passed you, she threw you a pleading look. Run as long as you still can.

Meanwhile, Jaskier had stood up and had made his way downwards to Geralt. You stood up as well but kept your distance. Unsure if you wanted to walk after Yennefer, who was making her way back or stay behind for Jaskier.

“Phew! What a day!” Jaskier tried to lighten up the mood with a chuckle, “I imagine you’re probably-”

“Damn it, Jaskier!” Geralt suddenly screamed, making you flinch as his voice even reached you in full force. “Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you shovelling it?!”

“Well, that's not fair-”

“The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it! If you hadn’t run into that stupid ambush and dragged the farmer with you, he would have never been able to burden the law of surprise upon me! All I wanted was to save your ass and now look at this! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands! And you know what? The child too! Because I'd rather use my child surprise as bruxa bait but that’s not going to happen as we’re bound by destiny!”

It felt as if you were back on the wooden path, the planks breaking under your feet as you plunged into unknown depths. It shouldn't hurt that much. You knew it, it was as clear as the morning sky that Geralt had never liked the thought of you. You were a burden he had picked up during his travels but never welcomed like Jaskier.

Your legs were moving without your consent, carrying you away from Geralt, away from Jaskier, away from the last piece of life you had. What were you now, an orphan? You parents didn’t die, but you wouldn’t be able to go back to them, you couldn’t run from your destiny. Could you?

“You could come with me, you know?” Her voice was soft, even caring as she appeared by your side. Or where you fast enough to catch up with her?

Your mind was racing, your view blurry with the tears that had found their ways into your eyes. You wiped them away, sniffled and looked up into the face of the mage. Her smile was warm and inviting. “You might not be my child surprise, but seeing as we both are bound unwillingly to that witcher, we might as well stick together, right?”

Part 7

The words that came out of his mouth hit me hard I'll be honest but he has a point. If I wanna get information I'll need to be with the others but I took what he said into consideration. He said I would no longer get help from him. So this is his way of helping though its harsh he does seem genuine and if this exercise works I'll have better control over my quirk. How hard can it be anyway? "So what's your answer?" I looked up to Mr. Aizawa. "I would rather have better control before joining back in the regular class. I wouldnt want to put them in danger." Aizawa gave me a slight nod. "Good that's what a hero would do I'm glad you know to put others safety over your pride." Is that a compliment? Doesnt matter he then begins to walk out the door. "Once you have it down come fetch me in the teachers lounge. Then again I doubt you'll get it today." With that he left and closed the door. After a while I look over the the plank of wood. Alright it cant be that bad. I slowly step up onto the plank. Ok so I just have to jump and land without shattering it. I got to jump but then stop myself. The force then made me fall off. Landing on my behind with a thud. "Shit!" I gently rub my behind. "That's definitely a bruise." The more I think about it the more impossible the task seems to be. How do I jump and land but without using enough force to shatter it? "Uhhggg" I begin to scratch my head out of frustration. Is this even possible? Is this his way of getting me out of the other classes? No. No. No I can do this. I just need to stop doubting myself and do it. I fix up the wood and such because my tumble caused the contraption to fall apart slightly. I get back onto the plank of wood keeping my balance. Ok just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it. Just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it.Just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it.Just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it. I jump up and land hard onto the wood and it shatters into pieces. Causing another rough blow to my behind. Damn it! I look ok very to the shattered plank. Ok I need to revert it quickly before my time runs out. I quickly grab all of the shards. I close my eyes. Ok breathe in breathe out. Visualize the plank. I let the shards slowly fall out of my hand so the plank has room to form. Breathe in breathe out and. "Revert!" I open my eyes back to the shatters. "Oh come on!" Ok I can just try again.

.

.

.

Nothing. "Aw come on I really dont want to go across campus." I let out a exaggerated sigh. I'm desperate and start bargaining with the shards." Come on please revert back? I'm sorry I shattered you so give me a chance okay?" I try again aaaannnnd.

Nothing. "Come on please work!" Little did I know while I was yelling at inanimate objects Mr. Aizawa was outside the door listening in laughing at my failed attempts. He soon retreats but not before yelling out. "By the way you can only get one peice of wood at a time." He then chucked at the groan of defeat behind him. He already was hopeful to see the progress she's going to make.

Okay I can do this I mean how hard can it be really?

.

.

.

.

"Wow back so soon? What's that like five times in the past half hour?" I felt like I was coughing up a lung by the time I made it to the wood workshop. I have been unable to fix that peice of stupid wood so after the second peice of wood I kinda stopped trying to fix it and work on landing on the wood without breaking it. "Yeah, I haven't been having much luck." The boy smiled back at me. "What makes you go through so much wood? I'm starting to get freaked out." He handed me a new peice with a small chuckle. The boy in question was Izumi Kotamon he's in class 2-C. "Its this training my teacher gave me and every time I mess up I have to get a new peice of wood and I'm coming from the far gym so it's a bit tough." I scratch slightly at my scalp. "Oh yeah your in the hero course right? Must be tough." I let out an small laugh. "Well I gotta get going I'm sorry to cut this short but I'm losing time." Izumi's face flushed a bit.

"R-right I get it... I mean your in hero class so it must be important." I the started slightly jogging away. "Yeah but I'll probably see you soon." I gave him a slight wave and begin to run back to the training room. My lungs were already beginning to give out. I guess this is one way to build up endurance. The more I think about it the more I realize that this training once done properly could really help me.

BUT WHAT IF I NEVER GET IT RIGHT??

"What the hell?!"

Shit. I really need to stop daydreaming.

"Crap sorry I should've been paying more attention."

"Yeah no shit."

Huh? I look to see who I ran into and it's none other than the maniac himself.

Bakugou Katsuki.

I look at him and notice he's pretty beat up and he is in his hero costume. "Wow you dont look to good."

He then looked at me with an extremely menacing glare. Shit I didnt mean to say that out loud. Well to late to back down now. "I mean your um scars look bad you should probably make your way to the nurse-"

"Who the hell are you to tell me to do anything!" He then shoved past me. "Are you serious! I was trying to be nice asshole!" He whipped his head back around.

"The fact that I even wasted my time on a stupid extra like you is me being nice!" He then huffed and stomped away. What a self righteous prick. I took a gaze over at the clock. Shit I wasted like 15 minutes.

Jeez I cant believe that guy. Just thinking about him makes me angry. And the fact he actually isn't that bad of a looker makes me even more pissed. Like if your gonna be an asshole at least have the decency to look like a peice of shit.

I mad either to the training room that I learned how to hate pretty fast. I dont even think it's possible to do? And if it is can I even do it? I place the wood back to its Oh so familiar spot and let out a breath. "How the hell am I even supposed to do this?"

lost trust: d.d

trying not to sound like a broken record when I say I’m working through requests currently, but it’s true! please note I am currently not taking any new requests as I am catching up on everything else. hope you enjoy :) 

brief summary: rumours begin to spread that your boyfriend, David has been caught cheating on you

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

“David?” I call out as I close the front door, waiting for a response. Silence follows through and I take off my jacket, watching the creases form as it hangs on the rail. “Anyone?” Yelling now I await someone to make a sound, maybe Carly came over as she does now and then since I gave her my emergency key. 

Heading into the kitchen I put the kettle on, listening to it rumble with life as I walk out towards the living room. Everything is just as it was left this morning, nothing has been misplaced or touched which is unusual. 

I’m so used to coming in seeing the cushions being moved to one end so David can lean on them to edit, or cups being left out or snacks. But it’s spotless, too spotless for my liking. 

As I go back to make a drink my phone pings, and I see a few messages from fans on Twitter. Usually, I try to respond to them the best I can, but since me and David got together a year ago it got too hectic to answer every single fan. Then the group chats started and I was added to those. Eventually, I just had to mute them all. 

Well, all except one. It’s a group of girls who really support each other, share life advice and ask me like I’m just another one of them. I’m not indifferent to them, and it feels normal to chat with them. 

Opening the chat I see a series of messages saying the same thing. A few words stand out as they all repeat it back and forth, tagging me in these messages with urgency. 

‘fuck david has been seen with another girl’  ‘david cheated on her? no dont say that’ ‘hes holding her hand girl I cant say its harmless you know’ ‘does Y/n know?’ ‘shes bound to find out, I mean just look at these pictures....’

I try to find some sense in these messages as my heart beat increases, my fingertips shake as I scroll down and see a few pictures. He’s with someone else, they’re in a cafe I’ve always wanted to go to with him. I can see in these pictures he’s laughing, smiling and holding her hand across the table. She’s pretty, hell she’s beautiful. 

My phone slips out of my fingertips and hits the laminate flooring. I leave it there as I look straight ahead at our dining table, a place where we sit and eat together, where we talk about our future together. Together. 

I remain silent, still. It was something I had never anticipated hearing, it was one of those things I heard about other people but never contemplated being in their shoes. It happened to my friend back home. I was there for her during her heartache, through all the tears and anger. But not once could I imagine being in her shoes, feel her rage or how her heart was falling apart just like that. 

But here I am, looking at a series of photos of my boyfriend, someone I’ve dedicated the best part of the past two years to. One year working on our friendship as it blossomed into the second year of an actual relationship. And now, it’s all gone over a series of photos showing me evidence I never wanted to see. 

*

Sitting on the sofa I look directly at the TV as a show plays. I can’t tell what it is, my mind has shut down so all I can see is peoples faces as I remain unable to take in who they are, what show this is or why I’m even watching this. 

Behind me I hear the door unlock, my ears perk up to the sound and I take a deep breath. “Y/n? You home?” He calls out, he sounds too sweet. So unknown to my knowledge of this all. I don’t dare move, I continue to stare at the TV in the darkness, the screen illuminating my dead expression. “Why is there a suitcase packed in the hal-”

Before he can finish he must see me, sitting still, ignoring him entirely. 

I’m not sure how to react. I’ve had hours now to think this through, but the only logical thing I could think of is to pack a bag of his things. Let him have something to take and then come back for the rest when I’m not home. It would be civil, I wouldn’t get angry. I would let him walk out and never come back.

“It’s yours. I packed it for you, save you staying any longer since you clearly have other places to be.” I state bitterly, not turning to acknowledge him in the slightest.  

His footsteps move with eagerness as he blocks the view of the TV from me. Instead, it glows around him like he is some angel, how ironic. “What’d you mean? What’s going on?” He asks with too much confusion, he never was the best actor. 

I sigh loudly. “I know what you’ve done David. I’ve seen the pictures of you and that girl.” I stand up and begin to walk away before the tears build in my eyes and anger rises through me. 

Before I move too far his hand grabs a hold of mine, turning me to face him. His face comes closer to mine, his arm resting on mine lightly. I try to avoid his face as I know it’ll melt me, I’ll forgive him too easily. “Y/n, I have no idea what you mean.” 

Pulling my arm away I feel the anger pulsing, I grab a hold of my phone from the kitchen and throw my phone to him. I head up the stairs and slam our bedroom door, sitting in front of it so he cannot come in. “Y/n?!” He yells as he marches up the stairs. 

I can hear him breathing heavily outside of the door, and then him slide down. 

He’s resting against it, the thin wooden planks of wood keeping us seperated. Probably for the best at this rate, I can barely look at him. 

My knees are buried into my chest as I try to control my emotions, hide the pain into anger. “How can you explain that, David? Who is she?!” I call out, sarcasm dripping off of my tongue.

“She’s no one. I knew her back from Vine. We, we met for a drink and she tried to make a move.” He began and I kept my guard up, I could see myself opening the door and seeing him apologise, but I shut that thought out as my back remains against it. “What you can see is me trying to gently turn her down, tell her how much I love you. This was way back when we first started dating, baby. I was with Jason all day. He can verify this.” 

I rest my head against the door as the tears fall down my face. “I, I don’t know David. It all seemed so real, the look you gave her. Do you have any idea how much this hurt me?” I cry out and I hear him rise to his feet. 

“Y/n, please open the door.” He calls out softly. “Just let me hold you, I cannot fathom how much I love you, how much I care about you. There is no one else I’d rather be with. No one can take your place, ever.” Slowly I rise to my feet weakly and reach down for the doorknob. “Just let me in, give me a chance to just show you, just trust me, please.” 

Opening the door hesitantly I see his face in the slither of light coming from our window. His face is damp like mine, and he half smiles when he sees me. 

His arms are instantly around me, engulfing me tightly. “I’m never letting go Y/n. Not for anyone or anything.” He kisses my neck lightly. “I promise.” 

Newsies’ Little Sister

Chapter 9 - Queen of New York

TW: Beaning up, Swearing, It’s a bit ooc

Word Count: 2.2k oof sorry babes

Genre: mostly angst

Emmeline's POV

"Welcome to the Newsie family Emmeline! But first, you need a Newsie name..." The boy in front of me was wearing a deep blue shirt, like the water under the Brooklyn Bridge. He was quite good looking, but he looked like he'd been through some pretty bad stuff, I could see it in his eyes...

"Got any ideas about what yer nickname's gonna be?" He asked.

"Ummm no...sorry." I replied, shaking my head. It was all a bit overwhelming to be honest, which I wasn't most of the time... I turned to Elmer and my brother.

"You guys got any ideas?" They thought for a bit, but before they could get a word in edgeways, I heard a noise coming from outside the door.

Loud footsteps marching up the front steps. I was curious to see who it was, so I pushed through the crowd of boys and went to the door. I was just about to open it, when it suddenly burst open and three men came in. 

I backed up fast to get out of their way, and I heard shouts from behind me. They were mostly 'get outta here!', and 'hey get away from them!'. That last one stood out to me, but I froze when I saw the man in the middle of the group. I knew that I had seen him before, but I couldn't figure out where from. He started to move towards me.

"Hello..." He smiled meanly. "You'd better stay right here girl...You cost me a lot of money!" When he said that, I felt everyone collectively stare at me. I tried to ignore them, but it was hard, seeming as I was already the odd one out, being the only girl

"Oh shit!" I somehow managed to move again, I started to get away from them, when the big man in the middle grabbed my arm. Then I realised where I had seen him before. I fought against him, and all of a sudden, I felt more hands on my other arm pulling me away. 

The man let go and I fell to the floor. I scrambled to my feet quickly and tried to run to the back of the room. I glanced back at the door and heard more yells. I saw the men were shoving the newsies away to the side. They were trying to get to me! 

Then a figure stepped in between me and the men. But he was shoved away easily. He ended up on the floor and I saw who it was. 

"I'm so sorry Nick!"

"It's fine Em! Just get away!" He winced in pain from the fall and he held his ankle in a strange way. I nodded to him and pushed my way through even more. I was used to running away from people. It was usually the bulls I was running from, but I didn't know who these men worked for.

"Hey you! Stop girl! Wait till I get my hands on you kid!"

I raced down the corridors, turning down different ones ever so often, until I saw a door at the end of the hall. I had nothing to lose at that point, so I sped up and burst out of the door. I turned back to see if they were following me. They weren't. I'd lost them, thank god! The boys must've stalled them. Or they had given up.

I stopped to catch my breath and sat down on the floor of the dark alleyway, with my back against the wall. I sat and waited there for a while, breathing surprisingly hard. Then I heard the door slam. I span my head around to see if there was anyone there. There wasn't; but the door was closed.

I jumped up and rushed to the door, I tugged on the handle but it wouldn't open. I banged on the door a bit, but then gave up on that and went out into the street. I walked around the building and towards the front steps again. I glanced into the front window and began to climb the steps.

I put my foot on the first step, then before I could go any further, the three men came out of the alleyway on the other side of the building. They came out of the shadows and grabbed my arms. 

"Get offa me!" I shouted, I threw my head back and heard a crack and the man's grip on my arms weakened. I shrug him off and span around. I draw my clenched fist back and swing as hard as I can. I catch the side of his head, even though he is a lot taller than me. He takes a few steps back from the punch, and holds his face. He then nodded to one of the other two men.

I felt a punch the side of my head, then a blow to my stomach. I was dazed and staggered off to the side, holding my stomach. Then I felt another fist punch my stomach and I fell to the floor, winded. Then a kick to my face. I realised I needed to get out of there. 

So, using all of my remaining strength, I pushed myself off the floor and ran away as fast as I could.

I ran past the lodging house, and on my way past, I saw a few faces in the window. But Mush and Elmer weren't there. Maybe they didn't see me getting soaked; or if they did, maybe they just didn't care...The boys in the windows didn't try to help me, so I guessed I'd have to do it on my own. As per fricking usual.

I hurriedly pushed those thoughts out of my mind when I heard shouts of the men coming from behind me. I pushed on down the street and quickly ducked into an alleyway. I stopped to catch my breath, sitting down in the shadows about half way down the alley. I looked around a bit and saw that there were a few empty green bottles and a few wooden crates here and there. Nothing important, but be careful. If I knocked into any of them, it would tell the men where I was. And I sure as hell didn't want that!

I heard their footsteps running up to the alleyway and I got up and ducked behind some of the crates. I peeked through the gaps in the planks of wood and saw them run past. But I only counted two...

The third one, the youngest out of all of them, came into the alleyway. He looked out of breath, so he sat down and looked around, just like I did. I realised that he might be able to see me. It is quite hard to hide bright red hair...Anyways, I ducked down even further behind the crates; and I think it was that sudden movement that caught his attention. He got up and walked towards my hiding place. 

I knew he was going to find me, and I knew that he would beat me up when he did. I couldn't stay there either, so I jumped up and punched him in the face. I started to run towards the street ahead of me, but then I found out that he wasn't as easily dazed as the old man. He grabbed onto my hair and gave it a sharp tug backwards. I fell to my knees and grazed them on the hard surface. He was still holding onto my hair, and he kicked my face, then stomach. 

It was too familiar. He was familiar...He reminded me of my father. And the day he...he tried to...no. It couldn't be. But he still reminded me of my father and the things he used to do to me. I had sudden flashes of unwanted and horribly vivid memories. Memories of the basement. Memories of the beatings. And the blood. And the pain...And of Nick. And what they did to him as well...

I closed my eyes, and then with as much force as I could, I drew back my fist and punched him in the place between his legs. His grip loosened as he doubled over in pain. I managed to free myself, and as I got up I punched him again.

"SHE'S HERE! MORRIS!" He yelled. I ran towards the mouth of the alley, but froze as I saw the other two men coming out from the shadows. The younger one went to grab me but I ducked and landed a punch to his stomach. The older man looked much stronger and I knew that if I tried to fight him, I'd lose. It just wasn't worth it. So I scrambled away from him and further down into the alley. I ran past the youngest and looked down at him, he was still of the floor, and I kicked him on the way. 

I looked back up again and saw a tall brick wall blocked the end of the alley. I started to panic when I heard more voices shouting in the street. Those voices sounded familiar and friendly, but I didn't really trust anyone. I built up a toughness that comes from being on the streets and having to steal to survive. But deep down, I wanted to trust people, I just couldn't...Not after I'd been sold out and put in the Brooklyn Refuge so many times.

I panicked even more when the three men advanced towards me slowly. Then one of them, the middle one, lashed out and caught the side of my face. I backed up against the wall, I had been in this situation before, but it didn't make it any less scary. But I tried not to show them my fear, because I knew that they would use that to their advantage.

I had a split second to work out what I was going to do. I shoved the youngest and the old man back as hard as I could, jumped, and caught the top of the wall with both hands. My feet scrabbled on the cold brick, trying to find and dent to push myself up. I found it and pulled myself up. But when I was almost at the top, I felt the man that I hadn't pushed away, grab my foot hard. I used the other one to kick him hard in the face, and he let go.

I pulled myself up the rest of the way and stood up on top of the wall. I looked out into the street and saw that there were a few newsies running around in the street. I couldn't quite tell what they were doing. I didn't know whether they were playing or looking for me. Probably the first one. I didn't think any one would want to look for me. I'm just a street kid that no one likes or loves.

I saw one of them look my way and point up towards me. Then he pointed to the men at the bottom of the wall. They were trying to build some sort of ladder to get up to me, but I kicked one of them in the face again and he fell through the crates. 

I laughed. For the first time in ages, I laughed. And it felt good. It was like a warm glow in my stomach had spread throughout my entire body. But I didn't have time for that, so I made my way across the wall, balancing like the tightrope walkers I used to see in Central Park.

I made it to the end and leaped across towards the other alleyway, but I didn't jump down. I jumped to get to the fire escape that was attached to the other building. I grabbed it and pulled myself over the railing and jumped up the stairs two at a time. A few heads popped out of windows to see what the noise was. And a few people yelled at me, because it was getting dark and they wanted to sleep. But I didn't care. 

I reached the top and looked out over the rooftops. I wiped as much blood off my face as I could and I let out a long sigh of relief. That then was the first time I had felt truly free. Up there on the rooftops where no one could get to me. 

I wandered across a few of them, then sat down with my feet hanging over the edge of a building. I stared out over the city. I saw the smoke rising through the air, and the sun was setting. Casting the warm glow and near-last light as it went. I could see small patches of green, then larger patches of grey buildings to break the green up.

The wind started to blow and it started to get cold up there, so I wrapped my shirt around me tighter and stuffed my hands in my pockets. I felt slightly warmer like that. And I felt like a queen, looking out over her kingdom.

Yea...I felt like the Queen of New York.

Desolate (Part Five)

A/N: Trigger warning for this one guys, there’s some bad gore (kids). 

Building a treehouse just so happens to be impossible without flat planks of wood, as I discovered whilst trying to make a decent floor. I had nails, but that wouldn’t do any good with these flimsy branches anyways. It was then I decided to go on a house trip, no matter how much I hated them. 

I left after lunch, which we had late, so that by the time I got to the old house I had spotted on our trip here it would be dark enough to be safe. I had covered myself in mud, not nearly as uncomfortable as it sounds, and I had slathered the muck all over my backpack and baseball bat just in case. All I could smell for the hour walk was algae and dirt. 

The house itself was planted on a large field, much like the crops it was once surrounded by. A glaring red barn loomed in the distance, the roof caved in on one end as though a giant had stepped on it by accident. Now, weeds had reclaimed the farmland in every way possible, ivy trailing up the shutters on the minuscule cottage and dandelions eating away at the soil. 

I tried to make as little noise as possible as I crept up to the house, watching every step to avoid branches or brambles that would stick to me and pull. A murder of crows cawed as they rushed away at the sight of me, and I could tell from the dangling strands coming from their beaks that I was about to see something uncomfortable. I was definitely right.

I quickly discovered that the farm belonged to a family of five, as I snuck into the house and immediately gazed upon an older couple, rotting on the floor. Maggots danced about the moist, musty carpet like pigs in a mud puddle, wallowing in a pool of bodily fluids leaking from every orifice. The smell was similar to a mixture of old meat, cat shit, eggs, and syrup, which is an unholy thing to imagine let alone actually smell. Bile rose quickly in my mouth and I decided to just swallow it instead of making the smell worse. 

I found the kids later, each in a different place. The crows had gotten to the daughter, who I would guess was about ten by her size. Based on the bottles of bleach and antifreeze in the kitchen, I would say she was poisoned. Her eyes were long gone after the crows, and she looked like one of those rabbits that got eaten by an eagle, her upper and lower halves spread about six feet apart. I was beginning to feel sad, so I moved on. 

The brother looked about sixteen or seventeen, and he had blown out his brains in the collapsed barn. It was hard to tell at first until I got closer, due to the bright paint choice, but once the sun started to glisten off the bits of cerebrum and cerebellum like dew on leaves I understood. I felt sorry for him most, as I could tell he had been alive much, much longer than anyone else on the farm. 

There was a baby, boy or girl I was never sure of, and I think it was one of the worst things I saw that day. Scattered across a chicken coop in small chunks, tiny bones smaller than my hands everywhere. There’s very little that a chicken won’t eat, after all. Remembering Hunter, tears began to drip down my cheeks, leaving clean streaks in the mud. I walked back to the house as fast as I could without making too much noise.

Crowbar in hand, I pulled boards off anything I could until I had plenty to build the treehouse with. I only needed enough for the floor and the ladder up, really. After stacking everything into a firewood carrier and into my arms, I headed back to camp. 

By the time I returned, just about everyone was asleep. I don’t blame them, as it was probably around midnight by the time I returned. Thank god for maps and solar flashlights. I set everything by the tree, and I went down to the water to wash off the mud. 

In the middle of my “bath”, I heard a rustling in the trees that was too melodic to be the wind. I didn’t care that I was bare-ass naked as I quietly got out of the water and grabbed my bat. At the silent silhouette approaching me, I swung. Blood and teeth spattered across my face, in my mouth, and across my chest like some kind of fucked up confetti popper. The sound of my bat meeting bone was a loud crack that echoed through my ears, yelling at me to keep going. I continuously pummeled this thing with my weapon, until the gurgling stopped and it felt as if I was beating the shit out of pie filling. There were still bones, of course, but not a single one was left in a solid piece, a messy stew of meat. 

I knew this thing was no longer human if it ever was in the first place. The fact that it smelled of rotting flesh and had no human form aside from the face were a few factors. I realized that night that they had begun to mutate. 

I had to get out of there. Get everyone out. Go to the shelter, if it still existed.

‘’An Ed Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’’ - EEnE Fanfic

@eene-fangirl Fanfic Weekend Challenge! Just a collection of random Jonny thoughts, and a poem thing at the end. (Raise your hand if you remember video stores.)

 An Ed Flew east, an Ed flew west,

An Ed flew over the cuckoo’s nest.

 -Parody on children’s folk rhyme

             People thought Jonny didn't care. It wasn't true. He did want things. That is, he wanted to want things, even to love things, as much as Ed loved every living thing— every plant, every tree, every bird and cloud in the sky. As Rolf loved things— the soil beneath his hands, the sweat on his back, the wind in his hair. As Jimmy loved things— the creek by the woods, quiet girls in crowded rooms looking inside a mirror or out the window at something unknown but desired. Only Jonny couldn't say what he wanted. It was too impossible now. Wanting anything seemed crazy. There was only one person Jonny could talk to, and it should have filled his craving. Was he satisfied?

           ''Jonny, why do you still play with that stupid thing?'' Sarah asked him one day, oddly concerned for the strange child as she indicated the wooden plaything. In the past, Sarah would have never even batted an eyelid in Jonny's direction.

           ''Cause Plank says so,'' Jonny replied, holding up Plank for her to see. But she didn't look at Plank. She just continued to gape at Jonny.

           ''Really, are you gonna continue to let that stupid board of wood tell ya what to do? Get grip!'' and she stormed off. As long as Jonny was happy, who cared what others thought?

           Eds always seemed to have more fun. It was on one such trip to the video store that Jonny discovered this. Jonny didn’t intend to run into them, but he always happened upon the Eds by pure happy coincidence. He watched as Ed made his way through the rows and rows of shelves, sprinting through the video store like a child at a toy shop. ''Movies, movies! Look at all the movies, guys!'' He yelled and pointed at each colorful video casket cover bearing a different title, a different genre. Jonny smiled at his immature display, in spite of himself. Watching Ed aglow made his heart flutter in warmth, but he couldn't exactly say why. Maybe because it was so different from the eternal smile his best friend often displayed. Jonny found Ed endearing, to say the least.

           ''Now be careful, Ed!'' came Double D’s familiar cautious voice as Ed ran through the seemingly empty store. On a Friday night, it was unusual, but Jonny assumed parents with their small children and families and groups of friends

had already swept the store clean the minute school let out. In fact, they were late to the party. Jonny supposed they were the only four kids in the store. Eddy, too, acknowledged this as he trudged behind Double D with his hands shoved in both pockets, sulking that they would not be out in time to make a trip to the candy store.

           ''Christ,'' he muttered under his breath, ''all the good stuff's rented out.''

           ''Eddy, first of all watch your language in public, and second of all, we're looking for a decent, educational film for Ed, not for us.'' he lectured.

           Eddy sighed at Double D’s usual nagging and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ''Yeah... forgot. Hey, how this supposed to help Lumpy anyways?''

           ''Because, Eddy, proposing a fun activity can show Ed that learning can be a fun experience outside the classroom environment! Besides, he can apply previous knowledge to new concepts. He's already improved drastically!''

           Eddy just listened to this rant quietly before asking only half-interested, ‘’So if Ed brings up his grades—‘’

           ''Yes, we’ll be back in business, goodness, is that all you ever think about? You'd be surprised, Eddy. I'm very proud of him. In only a month's time, he's come a long way, but he will advance, I'm sure of it. He's a fast learner.'' But Edd stopped himself when he saw Eddy yawning in boredom and moving away to find Ed. Why did he even bother?

           ''Hey, lumpy, didja find something?'' He called.

           And Ed rushed out from behind the Sci-Fi/Horror section with a case depicting a giant green octopus monster. ''Look, Eddy! It Came from Beneath the Sea!'' And Ed pushed the video casket under Eddy's nose.

           ''Get that thing away from me!'' Eddy commanded as he pushed Ed backwards.

           ''But it's so cool!'' Ed pleaded.

           Double D came forward and put a hand on Ed's shoulder. ''Ed, that's very nice, but... may we find something less... dismaying?''

           ''Okay...'' and he reluctantly obeyed and put the movie back in its proper section.

           ''Let's try the family section, shall we? We're bound to find something there.'' Edd suggested.

           And Eddy once again rolled his eyes in besetment. ''Oh, brother...'' he moaned.

           ‘’First impressions always last, as they say. And furthermore-''

           But Ed's voice broke through what Edd was about to say next. ''Look, guys! Elvis!'' And he pointed to the comedy section. ''Elvis is so cool!'' And he held up a familiar title Clambake, a typical 60's beach comedy. Ed, being the devoted Elvis fan that he was, was literally in heaven, for the comedy section held quite a few notable Elvis titles, though Clambake was not the most versatile of them. By 1967 with the Beatles leading the British invasion of new musical performers, the King of the Sixties was in decline at least in his film career. You can tell with Clambake; you would know if you'd seen the film. But to Ed, any B-grade film made no difference to him. Eddy burst out laughing the minute he laid eyes on what Ed had in his hands.

           ''Yeah, right, Ed! Elvis is so yesterday!'' But Ed didn't catch the joke as he laughed along.

           ''I don't know, Ed...'' Double D told him. ''It's a nice thought, but keep in mind that—‘’

           ''Dammit, Double D, you ain't gonna find nothing these days but beach movies, westerns, crime dramas and Dick Van Dyke!'' Eddy said rather annoyed as he threw up his hands.

           ''There must be something,'' Edd tried again, but no sooner had he spoken when Eddy disappeared into none other than the crime section. ''Eddy!'' but when he tried to follow him, Eddy emerged once more from behind one of the shelves and jabbed his finger into Edd’s lower torso, his hand imitating the gesture of a gun.

           ''This is a stick-up,'' he said in a gravelly voice as he pushed Edd back into one of the walls. ''Guess who, Double D?''

           ''Haha, very funny, Clyde!'' he mocked as he pushed Eddy’s hand away, catching on.

           ''C'mon, Sock Head, you're no fun! Bonnie & Clyde is da shit!''

           ''I doubt Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway is a good influence for —‘’

           But before he could finish his reply, Johnny 2x4 interrupted them. They both jumped clean out of their skin, expecting to see someone else, but they sighed in relief upon seeing the small child with his board of wood in tow. Neither Ed had even known Jonny was in the store with them.

           ‘’Watcha guys doin’?’’ Jonny inquired in his usual piqued curiosity. Eddy was about to tell him to get lost but Jonny continued on. ‘’Why be couch potatoes, huh? Plank says there’s gonna be a solar eclipse tonight.’’

           Ed, who had briefly returned from his movie hunt, gasped and repeated to his friends, ‘’Did you hear that, guys? Plank says there’s gonna be a solar eclipse tonight!’’

           Eddy only snorted. ‘’We don’t need an echo, Ed, we heard him the first time.’’

           ‘’PLANK SAYS!’’ Ed protested.

           ‘’Yeah, right! That stupid piece of firewood don’t know jack shit!’’ Edd was about to chastise Eddy once more for his cursing but Jonny cut him off.

           ‘’Says you!’’ Jonny accused. ‘’Plank knows everything!’’

           ‘’Yeah, Eddy,’’ Ed defended, ‘’you’re gonnna hurt the poor lil guy’s feelings! Plank told me my birthday’s Feburary 27th! That proves he knows everything!’’

           ‘’Ed,’’ Double D piped up, ‘’your birthday is always February 27th!’’ then he turned to Jonny, also skeptical of Plank’s prediction. ‘’And besides, we already had a solar eclipse last month!’’

           ‘’So?’’ Jonny challenged him arrogantly.

           ‘’So,’’ Double D emphasized, ‘’total solar eclipses only occur every eighteen months on average, and it is estimated they reoccur at any given place only every 360 to 410 years… generally speaking. So another solar eclipse couldn’t possibly occur tonight, Jonny, it’s not possible! Science would forever be changed.’’

           ‘’Yeah, what he said!’’ Eddy shot back.

           '''Fine, who needs ya guys anyways?'' Jonny snapped and stormed off with Plank in tow.

             Ed was the only one who believed Jonny—er—Plank, and went over to his house that night to prepare for another total solar eclipse. Eddy and Edd stood by their skepticism and hung out in Edd’s bedroom, finishing their homework (or at least Edd was doing homework, Eddy was reading comic books if Edd recalled correctly). They were both proved wrong when the sky suddenly darkened and when they ventured outside, they were both amazed and shocked to see a total solar eclipse occurring right before their eyes! Jonny and Ed never let them hear the end of it, feeling superior to any scientific proof.

           ‘’We told ya so, we told ya so!’’ they chanted every day.

           Edd couldn’t explain it—all the books and mathematical calculations could not prove how Jonny—or Plank, in this case—could have possibly predicted another solar eclipse, a month after an eclipse had already occurred! Solar eclipses were rare events— a pair of eclipses occurring two months in a row had never happened before—it was just not possible!

           I am a collective soul who prefers to keep a small inner circle around me. Too many is overwhelming and misguided. I have my books, my parents, and Plank. What more do I need? I have my Masters, the Blue Light, and the voices of my angels ''singing songs'' in my head. I don't need any friends (that's a lie), I don't even need myself (that's the truth). My best friend is and always will be Plank, unaccompanied by my mirror- - a friend I have known my entire life. And now I am proud to say that I consider you a close friend, though distant through the years, and far away. One does not need to face a good friend in order to feel each other's heart beat in the darkness. One may never meet, and feel closer to them than a person they had known seemingly for a thousand years. That being said, I can sit in my room alone in the company of the shadows on the wall. My mother could be in the next room or not there at all, and I'll still feel her presence through the fibers of my skin. I can be sitting here reading an e-mail, and though separated by a glass screen, it would seem as though you were sitting there before me, reading the words aloud to me in your voice full of wit and wisdom.

           I prefer the quiet conversations of the trees to the chorus of voices in a crowd. I prefer the blood in my veins to the water in the pond. One must learn to be lonely, and learn to live life alone. One who is always in need of more than two friends is insecure and has low self-esteem. It is not healthy to live one's life completely in seclusion, but one must also embrace the beautiful moments of alone-ness, and will come to appreciate a passion for life in which the world rejects when surrounded by one too many faces. Plutarch once said, '' I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.''

             Thankfully welcome.

Companions react to an injured Sole

***And. Here. We. Go.***

Cait(Platonic) : Cait was full of adrenaline when they, took down the last few raiders, she swung her bloody bat over her shoulder, and turned to face sole, who had a hand covering their left eye grimacing blood seeped between their fingers, “Holy shite..” Cait muttererd walking towards the other, “They got you good..”, she reached into her pocket and handed Sole some bandages and a stim, she nudged their shoulder with her bat, as they patched themselves up, “You weren’t completely shitty out there.” she smiled with a wink before walking off. 

Cait (Romantic) : “Motherfucker..” Cait swore as she walked towards Sole with a mix of concern and anger, “Fucking raiders..” She cussed as she reached sole, and placed her hand over soles, “Lemme see..” She said softly, as she slowly moved soles hand away from their bloodied eye, “Shite..” Cait felt a twinge in her chest, as she thumbed away the droplets of blood as sole winced, “C’mon let’s fix you up and, then maybe we can find a place to rest..” Cait smirked slightly pushing back soles sweaty hair, with a reassuring squeeze of their hand.

Synth!Codsworth (Platonic) : Codsworth took a shaky breath when they had finally taken down the offending Gunners,”Well that was certainly invigorating.” He said as he wiped at his damp brow with a handkerchief, “Don’t you think so Mum/Sir?” When he heard no response, he turned around, “Mum?Sir?” He looked around the abandoned lot feverishly until he heard a weak, “I’m here Codsworth.” he sees a pair of legs sticking out behind a dumpster, he quickly rushes over and the scene, and before him makes, his new stomach churn. Soles leg was warped at an odd angle, obviously broke, while they looked up at him with a grimace like smile. 

“Oh dear..” He breathed kneeling down at their level, “This doesn’t look very good..” He whispered looking at the limp, “Yeah I can testify for that Cods..”

He winced “My apologies Mum?Sir...” he frowned, “ I’m afraid I’m not versed in the art of resetting bones, I don’t think it’s a good idea we should get you back to Miss Curie..How to get you there is the question..” he muttered to himself.

A figurative light bulb when off in his head, he reached into his satchel where he carries supplies and such, didn’t hold as much as his compartment as a Mister Handy but it was sufficient. He took a roll of bandage, and took thin planks of wood they were planning on using for scrap, “This should make a good splint no?” He finagled with the tools before putting it together as gently as he could, before helping sole to their feet. 

“Don’t worry Mum/Sir we’ll get you back in a jiffy, and you’ll be good as new...”

Synth!Codsworth (Romantic) : Codsworth hands fluttered over Sole’s leg, he was much too afraid to touch them, let alone fix their damaged leg, he didn’t want to hurt them, and he didn’t want them to feel any unnecessary pain. “Oh darling...” He said reaching out to cup their cheek, “I’m rather useless theses situations.” He chewed his lip nervously, “I promise I’ll get you back safe and sound.”  

If Sole is light enough for Codsworth to carry, he would gladly carry them all the way back the the settlement, however if it’s beyond his strength, he’ll proceed with the splint and bare most of Soles weight. 

Curie (Platonic/Romantic): “Madam/Monsieur I do believe that is all of them.” She said holding her pistol close to her chest, “Yup I think it’s safe we should move on I bet they are gettin--” Curie turned around to see Sole upper arm bleeding with their shirt slightly torn. “Oh! Madam/Monsieur you’ve been hit!” Sole looked at their arm but didn’t didn’t seem as concerned as Curie, “Oh yeah the bullet kinda of grazed me, it okay I’ll patch myself up when we get back to the Red Rocket.”

“Non infection is much more likely to set in if it’s not treated immediately!” Sole opened their mouth to assure Curie that they would be fine in the hour it took them to get back to the Red Rocket but they could deny them with that determined expression of theirs.

“Alrighty.” They said beginning to remove their shirt, Curie looked significantly happier and she looked through her bag for the proper supplies, “Merci, it should only take a moment.” 

Danse (Platonic): Danse and Sole were deep in the Wastes when they were attacked by a pack of wild dogs. Danse had just put down the last mutt and sighed he didn’t enjoy hurting animals, but its mind had been poisoned by radiation and it needed to be put down. 

“Danse I could use some help ...” came the stifled voice Sole, he turned around to see Sole sitting against a rock, holding their leg.

He jogged over glancing down at Sole, “Are you able to stand solider?” 

“Yeah Yeah..Help me up and I’ll be fine.” Danse hosted them to their feet, “Stim please?” They said giving Danse a look, and the Paladin gave a start, before searching his compartment before he found a stim. 

After the injection they sighed, favouring their leg, “Come on let’s go I’ll be okay, let’s keep moving.” Danse tired to hide his concern and nodded he keep and eye on him.

Danse (Romantic): Danse felt the panic rise in his chest when he examined the bite wound on Soles leg, “You're going to need a dose of Radaway the mongrel was riddle with radiation, we should clean the wound before infection sets in it’s critical--”

“Danse?” They said stopping him in his rant by touching his cheek, “I’ll be fine we can do that all at Red Rocket I just need a stim.” Danse shook his head, “I don’t advise putting weight on the leg even with treatment.” He said taking out the stim and administering it.

Sole couldn’t conceal their smile, “You could always carry me?” They teased and Danse paused for a moment, before nodding “Outstanding idea cadet.” Before Sole could protest they were hoisted into his arms they made a noise of protest, before shaking their head, “I’m one of the luckiest people in the Commonweath..” They pressed a kiss to his cheek causing him to blush furiously.

Deacon (Platonic): “Good shot Boss!” Deacon exclaimed as the last Gen 1 went down, he wiped the sweat from his glistening noggin, and turned to see a grinning Sole clutching at their side, scorch makers around their hand. “Holy shit did they getcha?” He said walking over, to the nodding vault dweller.

“I’m good Deeks don’t worry.” They said moving their hand as it trembled slightly, “Aw c’mon lemme see can’t be that bad now can’t it” Sole gave him an indignant look, before pulling their tattered shirt up revealing an angry looking burn. 

“Ouch.” He said with a grimace as he poked the edge of it with his finger causing sole to recoil, “Ow! Fuck man why did you do that?” they yelled at him, “What? I was just making sure it wasn’t that bad remember?” The pulled down their shirt and scowled, and Deacon laughed at their expression, “Okay snapping suzan her’s a stim, wanna a lollipop?” 

“Go fuck yourself Deacon.” They grumbled, and then their was a pause, “Yes.” Which caused Deacon to burst out laughing.

Deacon (Romantic): “Now seriously let’s check this out okay?” Deacon said pulling them to the side, “It fine Deacon it’s nothing a stim can fix.”

“Aw c’mon don’t be such a baby lemme see.” They sat on the ground crossed legged and Sole slowly took of their shirt wincing slightly Deacon bite his lower lip before giving them the stim and pulling out the bandages, gently wrapping their torso before placing a kiss on their chest. “All better!” he exclaimed.

“Deacon your a dweb...” As they blushed slightly

Dogmeat: Dogmeat licked the small wound he had on his back leg from the Mirelurk, the larger creature appeared so quickly he didn’t even notice Sole was down. However his ears perked when he heard someone talking from the a few meters away on the beach, he cocked his head to the side. It was Sole! They were calling for him, bounded in their direction, but when he got to their side, they were leaning against a rock holding their side, his ears flattened against his head as he sniffed the air. Blood. Soles Blood. He whimpered as he walked to their side, placing his muzzle on their leg.

“I’m going to be okay boy, don’t worry.” He scratched him behind his ears, reaching in their pack for a stim and some bandages. Dogmeat ears perked slightly before barking at in response to his humans speaking, before licking their cheek, causing them to chuckle.

Hancock (Platonic/Romantic): “Fucking sons a bitches..” Hancock removed his blade from the raiders throat and wiped it on his pants, “You doin’ okay trouble?” He said calling out for the Sole survivor.

“Yeah I’m great..” They said limping into the room holding their, “Until the fucking raider decided to come at me with a fucking screwdriver.” They sat down in a beat up chair.

Hancock didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned so he did both, “Shit.” He searched his pocket for something to take the edge off, “This should help yeh sister.” They pried the screwdriver from their leg with a groan and tossed it to the ground, “Thanks man..” They injected themselve (or declined) before snorting, “Funny thing is the loser fell down the stairs seconds after.” Hancock laughed “Death fitting for a raider..”

He ruffled their hair and hugged them from behind, “Only you would get attack with a  screwdriver Trouble..Only you.”

Macready (Platonic): “Damn Gunners..” Mac grumbled putting down his rifle, “That’s all of them hopefully..” He looked around for sole and saw them slumped against the way, his blood rain cold and he slowly walked over his feet were not working and he couldn’t even call out their name.

When he finally reached them he felt a burst of relief, “Hey..” they said  “Fucking moron hit me with a baseball bat can you believe it I was a little dizzy for a second I’m okay now.” 

They slowly got to their feet and gave him a look, “You okay Mac? Looks like a you saw a ghost?” Maccready shook his head and put his rifle over his shoulder, “Yeah I’m good let’s get out of this stupid place before more show up.” He swallowed the concern he didn’t know he had.

Macready (Romantic):  Mac let out a shuddering breath when he saw them mostly fine besides a bruise his heart quickened as he sat down next to them holding them in his arms, “Dumbass you nearly gave me a fricking heart-attack call out for me next time will yeah.”

“Sole petted the back of Mac’s head filling the guilt rise in their rest, “I’m sorry I’m fine really a taught the asshat a lesson,” gesturing to the bashed corpse to their left, Mac snorted and leaned in to kiss them as they got their bearings.

Preston (Platonic): “Shit General..” He whispered as he walked towards the hobbling sole, Super mutant ambushed and he lost track of the vault dweller, “Are you okay?”

Sole nodded, “Fucking damn tripped over a damn curb running from a mutant hound..” They shook their head, “I can see it now, Vault Dweller death by asphalt, I took a stim it’s just sore nothing broken.” They smiled at Preston, “Let’s get to that settlement though.”

Preston glanced at their leg before nodding with a slight smile, “After you General.”

Preston (Romantic): Preston laughed at their comment but shook his head, his heart rate slowing down after he saw them hobbling over, “Yeah that be some headline...” He agreed that they had to get to the settlement but they should stop and look at the wound before heading out.

“Hey..” He took their hand, “Let’s make sure everything okay before we go..”

“Preston it’s fine rea--” They were cut off when they were lifted off their feet, “Jesus!” They exclaimed before chuckling slightly “Minutemen to the rescue again.” Before planting a kiss of his forehead.

Piper (Platonic): “Damn Blue don’t run off--” Piper stopped glancing at the sheepish Sole clutching their arm, “What the hell happened?!” She said looking exasperated.

“Uh..So I wanted into the room and guess what? Their a Glowing Feral wasn’t expecting that heh..” removed their arm to show the festering slash, “Got me good...”

Piper sighed, “You need a Doctor Blue c’mon..” Sole protested, “It’s okay I’ll take a some Radaway and a Stim I’ll be fine Pipes really.” They urged her. 

"Your worse then my sister sometimes..” Sole stuck out their tongue.

Piper (Romantic): “You're not getting off that fast..” Piper made sure things were safe before settling down, and looking at the wound more closely, she cleaned it, strapped the Radaway to her upper arm as it drained into her body, gave her a stim and bandaged the wound.

“They’re your done yessh Blue, did you do a a number on yourself.” Sole grinned up at Piper, “Didn’t know you were such a great nurse Pipes.” They leaned to kiss her but Piper pressed to finger to their lips, they made a surprised sound.

“No kissing until you promise to not run ahead before we check the place okay?” Sole grumbled.

“Fine...” Their tune changed as they were rewarded with a kiss.

Nick (Platonic): Nick took put his gun make in his holster when he shot down the last mole-rat, “Goodness, they came outta nowhere didn’t they?” He said rubbing the back of his neck with his metal and before reaching for a cigarette inside his coat pocket, before turning around to Sole hiding their arm behind their back with an odd expression on their face.

“Everything okay kid/doll?” he said giving them an odd look as the smoke wafted out the cavity in his head. “Yeah everything fine? We should fine someplace to stay the night it’s gettin--” 

“Why are you hiding’ you arm behind your back?” He said with a raised eyebrow of concern obviously noticing Sole attempt at deflection, “Is something’ wrong?” 

Sole sighed, shoulders drooping slightly as they revealed their arm, it was bloodied and the fabric of their sleeve was torn, it was now obviously that a Mole-rat at taken a bit out of them during the the scrimmage. 

Nick’s yellow eyes widened slightly and he removed his hands from pockets, “Goodness kid, that thing took a nasty bite outta you.” He reached in his pocket a took a stim, rad-a-way and some bandages, “C’mere kid lemme see.” 

Sole and Nick ended up sitting on the side of the middle of no where while, Sole fidgeted and Nick patched them up. “Come on Sole stay still, I’m almost done.” Sole sighed as Nick fastened the bandage around their wrist, “This so embarrassing I should have been being paying attention.” They sighed looking at their sore wrist.

“Aww don’t beat yourself up kid/doll, we all have our moment.” He put a hand atop their head and gave them some soft pats, “Now let’s fine that shelter hmm?”

Nick (Romantic): Nick slowly rolled up their sleeve, and looked over the wound, “This might hurt a little bit darlin’..” He gently cleans the mole rat bite and bids the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Thanks Nicky..” they said softly placing a soft kiss on Nick's rough cheek, the clockwork detective slowly smiled and gave their hand a tight squeeze, “Anythin’ for you darlin’“ he kissed the crown of their head.

Strong: Strong huffed and bent down to pick up the pipe-pistol from one of his brothers hands, wiping the blood of with his other hand, he turned around to see the human clutching their face. 

“Bah! Did human get hurt? Did brother hit human with stick?” He shouted at sole, Sole removed their hand showing a reddened welt, “Yeah Strong I was hit.” they said tiredly. 

Strong grumbled, “Human need to duck faster, Super Mutant no slow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind buddy.”

X6-88 (Platonic): X6-88 adjusted his sunglasses on his nose, and turned to face Sole who was limping around the corner, a bullet wound in their upper thigh, X6 hostler his gun before speaking, “You should clean that up ma’am/sir. It could get infected quickly.” 

“Yeah I will don’t worry, we should get on the move first.” They said looking around before moving forward. “Whatever you say ma’am/sir.” He wasn’t going to baby them, they were a grown adult.

X6-88 (Romantic): “The area is secure it would only take a few moments to clean and patch up the wound.” Sole couldn’t really gage X6 expression from behind his sunglasses, but they had learned so far in their relationship that he didn’t suggest thing he didn’t think vital. 

“Okay okay.” They said sitting down on near by bench taking out a stim and some bandages, X6 sat next to them and held the tools while Sole patched themselves up.

“Help me set this fucking thing on fire.” For Niles/C.C.

Here you are, my friend. Sorry it took a while, I had to move out of my dorm yesterday in preparation for my journey back to the UK, so I was busy getting stuff sorted. Enjoy!

@holomoriarty and @missbabcocks1

Niles couldn’t help but be annoyed. Extremely so, as a matter of fact. Just when he thought he’d done all his duties for the day, Mr Sheffield had come into his room and asked him if he’d mind completing just one more little thing. Namely run all the way across town to deliver a case full of contracts to Miss Babcock, who was supposedly to finish her day at the theatre.  Yes, of course she’d be allowed to relax after a long day of screaming at actors, and arguing with set designers. It was always best to allow the beast to go back in their cage, after exercise.Oh, that one was rather poetic. He thought maybe he’d trim it down and save that one for when he saw her.The theatre was in sight, too. Just a little way further, and he’d have dropped off the contracts, be completely done for the day, and be allowed to go back to resting, after having walked so far at a time in the afternoon when most people were going home, not going out.Except, just before he made it to the theatre doors, some sound of a commotion caught his ears. “Son of a bitch!”Babcock’s familiar screeching. Followed by a loud thudding, and a crash. “I’ll teach you to do this to me!” Was she fighting someone? A strange sense of concern and dread washed over him. She’d been in altercations before, but this one sounded particularly ferocious, and he started to look for the source of the noise.He found it, in an alleyway, just off to one side of the theatre. His jaw dropped open as he took in the scene.She wasn’t yelling at or threatening or hitting a person.She was hitting a car, with what appeared to be an old plank of wood taken from one of the garbage piles. She’d obviously been at this for some time – there were dents all over the thing, and the windows were all smashed. But she also seemed nowhere near done, if her face was anything to go by on the matter.“What the hell are you doing?!” he cried out, rushing towards her as she continued to assault the vehicle in front of her.She looked up at him briefly, her glare for once not directed at him, and she ceased her attacks for the time being, catching her breath and leaning on the plank of wood as though it were a cane.“This car, if you must know, happens to belong to a man who agreed to go with me to the last awards show I went to-”Niles raised an eyebrow, “This is what you do to people who go with you? No wonder you never get a second date.”He relented when the glare was suddenly directed at him, as he felt the plank of wood might soon follow.

“For your information, he stood me up. At the last minute, he said there was an emergency at work which was completely unavoidable,” she explained, giving the driver’s side door another beating for good measure. “So, I went by myself and decided to take a nightcap at a little place a couple of blocks away. And who should I find there? Only Mr Sleazeball himself, who’s “completely unavoidable” emergency at work seemed to consist of pouring margaritas down some stupid bimbo’s throat.”She heaved the wood over her head, and brought it down heavily on the wing mirror, which broke off, before looking up at Niles again.“So, I’m just leaving him a little message,” she smiled at him in a saccharine fashion, pointing at the car. “It reads “Come near me again, and I’ll do the same thing to your body”.”She was about to swing the plank again, aiming for the windshield, but Niles grabbed her elbow and she dropped it.“You do realise this is completely amoral and totally illegal?” he asked seriously.C.C. rolled her eyes.“Well, duh! If I wanted a legal way of doing something like this, I would’ve settled for screaming at him in the bar!” she cried, turning a little to go through her purse and eventually pulling out a lighter. “Now, help me set this fucking thing on fire.”“What?!” Niles screwed his face up in confusion and no small amount of shock or horror. “No!”“Oh, come on, Niles,” she said, holding out her lighter towards him. “This car belongs to a rich man with all the money, power, and status that life could dish out to one person. He’s got women hanging from every arm and men from all over the world want to hear his opinion. He’s the complete and total opposite of you, and he hurt your friend very deeply. Do I need to give any more reasons?”She thrust the lighter in his direction.Niles reached out tentatively, as though he was going to take it.It would be nice, to get one over on someone who had everything, while he had nothing…especially one who had been something of a cad and had clearly hurt Miss Babcock by doing so…That was when something occurred to him. And not something to do with the criminal nature of the activity, either.“You consider us friends?” he blinked, his hand falling away from the lighter.Before C.C. could reply, there came a shout from the end of the alley.“Hey, you!”The producer’s eyes widened and she stuffed the lighter in her pocket, “Crap, we’ve been spotted!”Niles spun to look at the silhouette in the mouth of the alley, which was starting to come closer. In the last little glint of sunlight before coming into the shadow, he thought he saw the glint of a badge.A police officer.He barely registered a hand tightening around his own. He only truly felt it when Miss Babcock began to pull him away.“Run, God damn it!” she hissed, tugging him away towards the other end of the alley. “You understand? It means pick up your feet and move!”He didn’t need to be told again, once he’d come out of his strange reverie. It had been almost like he was stuck in place. Perhaps by fear.But Miss Babcock wasn’t afraid, and together they ran for the other side, the cover of the shadows in the alley helping them no end as the policeman yelled, his footfalls growing quieter as they picked up their own pace and, amazingly, left him behind. They probably wouldn’t be recognised, even if that officer saw them again.He’d probably put it down to youths – it was the kind of crime you could expect from a juvenile delinquent.They ran, and they kept on running, until they were out of the alley and a good few blocks away, ducking into a little, empty corner park to catch their breath.It was then that Niles realised that they’d never let go of each other’s hands.They were both looking down at them now, hands clasped together…almost as if they belonged right where they were.They stared at each other, blue eyes meeting blue, for what seemed a really long time. And they didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, the relief at not being caught, or a strange surge of emotion from the fact that she had basically admitted that she liked him enough to call him a friend, but suddenly, they found themselves locked in a passionate kiss.Hands and tongues wandered and explored, throats surrendering groans of pleasure, and teeth dragged over lips as she pulled herself away from him, slipping her arms away from his shoulders, down his upper arms. Still panting, although for a different reason now.“Well,” he breathed, resting his hands on the small of her back (making sure the folder stayed firmly in his grip) and clearing his throat. “Nothing like a little vandalism to make you feel alive.”She let out a breathless laugh in reply, which quickly became a smirk, “Nothing like it indeed, Butler Boy…although some things feel even better.”He returned her look with a smirk of his own, “Getting one up on the man who snubbed you? Running away from the police and not being caught?”She pressed herself against him, purring, “All of those things, Hazel. And one more that you left out.”“What could that be?” he murmured, his arms tightening around her securely.She slipped her hand back up his arm, across his chest and cupped his cheek, planting her lips on his once more. It soon deepened again, and Niles began to feel the familiar sensation that made his hands want to wander further, preferably touching skin, not just clothes…That was when C.C. pulled away, laughing lightly. Not that he saw anything funny. If anything, he was confused. Had they simply both been caught up in the moment? Was she finished with it? With him? Because that little shot of adrenaline had given him more than a little courage, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to go back to their usual routine if that’s where it was heading.“What is it?” he asked, worried for whatever her answer could possibly be.“The last thing which feels even better is getting my reward,” she answered, grinning and keeping hold of his hand. “Well, our reward, seeing as by running with me, you have made yourself my partner in crime.”And relief went through him; she was still in a playful mood. She started to pull him back in the direction of the theatre, though via a different street. Probably in case there were still police in the area.“Where are we going?” he couldn’t help but be curious as to what she had in mind. She turned to look at him, and then he saw it in her sapphire eyes. Desire. “We are going to my car, and then back to my penthouse,” she told him straightforwardly. “Nothing like a little criminal activity to make a girl understand what she’s been missing out on. Do you have anything else to do today?”Even if he did he would have lied, but he shook his head in what was probably an overly eager fashion, but he didn’t care, “No.”C.C. didn’t much seem to care that he was eager either, and she grinned, pulling on his hand some more.“Well, come on then, Clyde. Your Bonnie wants to go back to the hideout.”And he followed her willingly, not really caring about the fact that she’d just wrecked somebody else’s car. If the man was so rich, he could buy himself a new one, or get it repaired.What was happening right there, between the two of them, was something money could never truly buy.

The Somewhat Truths of Jody Johns

These stories are based on actual events, however, just because this is the way I remember it, does not mean it happen that way. Sometimes I’ve added to or combined stories to make them more interesting and of course I’ve changed names and sometimes locations to protect myself.

  Jody Johns was just average. Average height weight looks. Average intelligence, except, Jody excelled in creativity, his short fall was lack of fear. He had gotten a short shitty end of the stick. A bastard child raised by a step father that would smack him across the face for doing the most insignificant wrong, but never took a minute to explain the right way. He didn’t know the difference between a flat head screw driver and a Phillip’s, but did he really need a fat lip to help figure it out.

     Was anyone surprised when he rebelled.

  August 1970

  First Friend

  He looked forward to going to school. Six years old and in the first grade, Jody walked wide eyed into the building. More kids then he had ever seen in his life jostled and meandered up and down the hallways. He was pushed and shoved as too many kids passed him heading to places the young man did not know where.

  He heard his name called and looked in that direction. A mousey woman glared at him over the rim of her glasses and asked, “Are you Jody Johns?” Jody nodded, suddenly full of fear. “come here” she ordered.

  Jody obeyed. She handed him a piece of paper then pointed to the wall, “stand there until I tell you” Jody walked to the area of the wall she had pointed to. A short kid was standing there, and they made eye contact as he got closer. Each saw the fear in the other’s eyes as they both nodded.

  “My name is Brian”

  “Jody”

  For several minutes they waited as a few more were added to the group, then they followed the mousey teacher, hand in hand, to the first class. Brian and Jody both headed to the back row, however some other guys gave them “the eye” so they settled for middle seats. Although they said nothing more than their names to each other, there was an instant bond that neither had experienced before and were only vaguely aware of, since their sensory input was on overload.

  The teacher said what teachers say and soon it was lunch time. The two boys watched the crowd as they were herded into the lunch room and followed what they saw, never getting more then a foot away from each other. The meal was unrememberable, but the kids yelling, talking, running around was both fearful and exciting. The two talked about boy things, getting to know each other while their eyes constantly scanned the throng of students, as if expecting an assault at any moment.

  In mid-sentence, it came, sort of. Brian was explaining the wonders of Superman when three big third graders approached. “so, he can see right through any girl’s clothes…….” Brian stopped talking when it became clear the boys wanted to talk.

  The first kid was ugly. His faced looked like it was to large for his head, so it kind of sagged. The thick eye brows, and slightly bulging eyes made him look scary. The two behind him smirked like they were tough shit. One was too skinny the other too fat. “What are you two babies looking at?” Bob Coker growled as he bent over punching his fist into the table glaring into the Jody’s eyes.

  Jody and Brian glanced at each other and saw neither had any idea of what to say or do. “Nothing” Jody replied.

  The three boys busted out laughing as well as a few kids in ear shot. Then the crowd noise softened around them as the students smelt fear and a possible fight. “So, then you admit that you are babies” Bob bellowed. The kids around laughed as the boys’ heads lowered in shame. “Do you winna cry?”

  As if on que, Jody started crying. Bob and his cronies laughed harder. Kids close by laughed loud enough so that soon the whole cafeteria was looking at Jody and Brian. Then Brian started crying too.

    All the way through to the seventh grade, until Jody moved away, Brian was his closest friend.

    First Enemy

  His name was Scott. And to this day whenever Jody meets a “Scott” he instantly hates him.

  He was a loud mouth dick that constantly complained when things did not go his way. Jody avoided him as much as he could. However, Jody’s luck is never good. About three weeks into the first grade the class was at recess….

  In the late sixties early seventies was a sitcom on TV called “A Family Affair” the cast was a rich bachelor with a man servant that was raising his sister’s kids, Buffy and Jody. Each new episode brought a new round of taunts and suggestive questions like “Hey Jody, what were you doing with Miss Beasley?” (Buffy’s doll). Finally, the show went off the air, but not before the damage was done.

  Scott started in on him that day at recess…” Hey Jody, your sister Buffy can throw better then that” the class laughed as Jody shrugged it off.

  He bounced the basketball as he looked at the rim with deep concentration, he felt the ball hit his toes, then saw it bounce toward the goal and then just roll pass it. Again, the class laughed much louder.

  Scott yelled out, “Mister French needs to have a stern talking with you” (the man servant)

  It was then that Jody decided to handle this. He walked towards Scott and as soon as he got close enough, swung, landing squarely on the nose of the loud mouth bully. Immediately blood spurted out, shocking Jody and I am sure the rest of the class. Jody stood watching as a smile slowly, uncontrollably stretched across his face. For a half a second, he felt like a hero.

  The teacher grabbed his arm, pulling him to the office. He felt like a rag doll being dragged by a careless child. She yelled at him as they hurried through the hallways, doors opened with heads peeking out at the sound of the ruckus. Once at the office, the principle, after saying what principles say, gave him three whacks. Then they made his step father leave work to come and get him. Jody does not remember the details of the beating that followed, however, he remembers he got one. A hell of a one.

  We all have moments in our lives we can point to and say “This is when things changed”

  I never fought back after that. Mock me, beat me, spit on me, do your worst….it is nothing compared to what He would do.

      First Shot at Freedom

  Eleven years old was the first time Jody ran-a-way from home. A teacher was explaining how to read a map, basically. With a map of South Florida pulled down over the chalk board she explained that “if you walked down Johnson Street east, you would walk to Hollywood Beach.”

  This information fascinated him. He heard what she said as he looked at the map and thought “how cool would it be to walk to the beach….” He studied the coast line south, “….and then walk around the bottom of Florida then back up the other side.” So desperate to get away from home, the beatings, he was not afraid of what he would find…..he just knew it would be better.

  So, he started making a plan, which was the same plan he came up with that day at school. Walk up Johnson Street to the beach then head south around the bottom of Florida, it was a solid plan. Years later he had a big laugh when he realized the southern coast was a giant swamp called the everglades, that does not have a well-defined beach like the rest of the state.

  Nevertheless, the day came. He had a bag with a couple of shirts and two pairs of pants. He didn’t have any toys to bring with him. No memorabilia of any kind. He walked and walked. The excitement he felt when he started, waned quickly as he got hungry. It was only three miles to the beach, yet he walked a little over a mile before he started doubting his plans.

  He passed a carnival, so thought he’d check it out. No longer tired from his long short walk, he smiled at all the people having fun. Soon he was lost in a fantasy world that was real life. The sounds, the smells. The smells….he was hungry. He talked to the carneys that talk to him, until they realized he had no money. He let a few people know he was hungry but was unsuccessful in finding charity. Eventually, the sun set, tired and starving, the young man crawled up under the trailer base of a ride and tried to sleep.

  The noise kept him awake, but eventually ended. He felt he could finally fall asleep. He could not. He tossed and turned on the narrow iron beam that was to be his bed, until he gave up. He crawled out from under “house of horror” to return to another.

  He walked into the yard as his step dad walked out of the house. Jody’s head hung low knowing he was going to get a beating. Only his dad’s manor was not anger, oh but neither was it love or anything close to that. “where you been?” the man asked, “with that bag in your hand it looks like you ran-a-way?” it was a question and a statement. “go to my room” Jody went to his parent’s room.

  While his step dad went to the shed at three o’clock in the morning to cut out a wood paddle, the belt just wasn’t going to do. He took a plank of solid oak, drew a pattern on it then cut it out using a loud table saw and vacuum system. Fuck the neighbors, I guess. He even sanded the handle, so he didn’t get splinters. I guess it makes sense, but why did he take the time to explain this to Jody.

   After reveling in his handy work, he made Jody bend over the bed and count to fifty (I wish this part was made up) as he swung an oak paddle hard on the ass of an eleven year old with the might of a grown man who worked as an auto mechanic. Yea.

  Everyone knew. It was common back then.

  Jody was in middle school and had to take showers after P.E. The black and blue ass made the class gasp upon the first reveal. It was the quietest shower the young man ever remembered taking at school. He avoided their eyes, but he was not ashamed. He just did not want to see their pity. For now, he had a new mind set……he lost his fear.

  A few weeks later, Jody smoked pot for the first time……. Then things got weird.

August 24th, 2017

Today is the day we go see the old house, and where we used to live.  Mom set the time, and she delayed us by smoking weed upstairs. We didnt start fighting until we were on the highway out of Maine. My father is not on a pedistal in my head, we’re going to Salem to see what he was like as a person. Mom is a biased souce for this information, i think everybody is. There was one point when we were driving over the green bridge from Maine to i think New Hampshire where i believed this trip was going to end with me driving off of it. I can’t kill Mom, and i can’t kill Liz. Mom is yelling, there is no quiet moment in the car. Mom is yelling and she’s full of vinegar. Liz has her headphones on and im alone with someone screaming at me in the front seat. I found out that Dad did drugs, but not what kind. Mom is a hypocrite for saying drugs like that, maybe she doesn’t remember this morning when everything smelt like skunk. We have a half sibling out there, and i have no idea if they’re younger or older than us. There really is a Lane 6.5 somewhere, or an increment of .5 depending on when they were born. Getting into Salem she’s still acid, i can’t do anything right, and Liz isnt helping. We got into Jess’s neighborhood and i don’t remember what brought it up but i was heading towards a stop sign, i said something, i was crying, Mom told me to get over my bullshit and i said i couldnt. Mom said “Go to Hell. Is that what you what to hear?” i beat my legs and screamed, im stuck in this car and Mom is trying to get me to kill myself and the people in this car. Liz jumps out and starts to walk, leaving me behind. I skid after her. I am done with the both of them. Mom has me thinking about crashing, and still pressing bruises. We get to Jess’s and i dont get out of the car, i sit and sob. We’re supposed to meet family today, we’re going to see Dad today and uncle Kenny. Why is she making this so painful. Jess doesn’t look changed when we tell her, she’s dealing with us. I don’t think she wants us here today, we’re just siblings and maybe she feels like we’re owed this.  We go out to eat and Mom keeps trying to touch me. I walked in and saw Ron in the back, he waived at me. He’s losing his hairline, but still looks like him. I get to great sandwitches and Mom keeps stealing my fries. After that, Mom takes the car and goes somewhere with it, i have no idea. Jess, Liz, and i go to Barnes and Noble, and i recognize the street that takes us past our old house. Barnes looks the same, it smells like home and comfort and coffee from the Starbucks. Liz gets a book, and i get a keychain of Sailor Mercury. It’s taken me until today to realize the people on the walls with the escalator are authors, not just people lounging at a cafe. I dont know if i was able to read the last time i came here. We left to go see uncle Kenny. We drove by the old house and it looks like it should. There’s the boulder in front of the house where i grew up still, its not gravel yet. Nana’s houses are being changed. We go to park by the garage and i see a mobile home in ruins. It’s the same on that sat on the edge of the property for as long as i can remember. It’s not a happy feeling, but it’s somehow positive to see it. It was decrepit whenever i lived here, now the roof is caved in, one corner is completely pushed it. I want to go look in it, but i cant. I start to see signs for Ray Lanes Towing and my chest and stomach get tight. We go across the street, and i see Uncle Kenny and Auntie Jeanie. She doesn’t look familiar, but she greets us like it is. I get a hug right away from her. Kenny has his head cocked most of the time, his head forward. He has a beer gut and likes tank tops. There’s bird feeders everywhere, it’s like a childrens book.  We go inside and it smells like weed. Jess gives me a look. I think it’s funny, but maybe this is how our family deals with loss and awkward family gatherings.  We sit down and talking is slow. Jeanie set out green grapes and lindor chocolate, they thought ahead to us coming and set out a little plate. Thank you. We talk, but not about Dad. Family members died, Nanas best friend, replacement grandma, has passed, along with someone named Mary.  Kenny is quiet, its mostly Jeanie doing the talking. They know about our band, i wish our name wasn’t so dumb. Jeanie is almost doting, i think she might be a little high. I brought up cars, hoping our uncle would join in, i’ll never have a chance to talk about cars with my Dad, and it doesn’t look like thats going to happen with his brother. He did tell a story about when they were moving Nana out, how her car died and he had to drive two states back when he had just pulled into the driveway in Florida. She and Auntie Tipsy (Diana) were driving, her at 80 something, i dont know how old my Aunt is. I never grew up with these people. Kenny kept going back and forth from a room in the back to bring out things. I now have a bandana with my intials because my sister got all the cool things. There’s also a plaque that has our grandfathers name on it, also Ray Lane, for Salem High School and something about music. There’s no one here to explain why this exists. We learned about the house across the street, it was a farm house, a barn used to be there until it burned down. Dad talked about a weather vain, how it was damaged and the insurance came and gave them another one, and that one was stolen, or something like that. We saw pictures of the house and barn attached. Dad grew up in Salem New Hampshire, across the street form where we are now. Thank you. We left after more than an hour, taking a walk around Kennys back yard. There’s flowers and bird feeders everywhere, and Liz wants me to get one. I don’t want to take away from this, it has something that feels like it should be preserved. There’s over 200, i think, and Kenny likes to build them. Liz told me later that he’s blind in one eye, i remember hearing the story from Mom, how he hid it from Nana for a few days, then it was too late to do anything. We put our stuff in the car, and took the walk down the street to Nanas. There are dogs inside, one of them looks like Weetzie and can jump that high. No one answered the door, i dont think ill ever see the inside again. I feel empty about this, but not sad yet. We walked across the street, the yard looks different if you’re standing in it, looking out at the street. I wont get that view again either. I dont know if the lilac is still growing as a privacy hedge. We took pictures on the rock, and Liz had her tic tacs in the driveway. It is a big driveway, it is a big house. i want to run around the perimeter, there’s still two granite steps, there’s wooden steps around back. I didnt’ look at the roof, i dont know if the odd things on top are still there. There’s shoes at the front door, but we dont knock. I want to see the inside, but i dont think i can handle the new memories.  We leave, and Kenny throws in another hat from a car someone left here, its camo and no one is likely going to take it.  We go to the graveyard next. it feels like any other grave yard, not one where family and maybe old teachers are buried. I finally saw the headstone, there’s a decayed circle of floweres with a fake ribbon, a wreath from the memorial we missed. I left a mint, Liz left pennies and a card with something Father on it. It doesnt feel real here either. We drove out and saw that there was an open grave with wood planks over it, there might have been someone in there. We got to Jesses house, and Mom wasnt back yet. She drove up, and she doens’t look like today happened. I don’t think it did for her. We walked around to where the new house was being made, Jess isnt happy. She’s been low level annoyed but accepting about it all day. We go inside and Ron is playing piano with Mom. He’s learning, and i wish i could remember more piano to show off. He knows Life on Mars, and i think another Bowie song. I look up sheet music on my phone that i’ve sent to Daniel, and i remember Toccatina. I play and people stop to listen. Jess i think heard. We leave, Mom staying to say something to Ron. Jess gave us kinetic sand. Mom drive us home. I will not survive the trip back if i do it. Patty showed up, and i think she’s less judging. Liz has been handing out Christmas gifts all day, and she likes her ornament, Auntie Camera Face. She gave Liz a hug, and told me to get my ass over her. I walked backwards with my butt towards her and she laughed.  We got Liz her sheep bank.  I dont know how i feel about today.

A thriller by Hakim, Terminale L

Fairies and Old Age

Hakim TL2

Rope around my neck burns my skin. As ashes fall over my lethargic body, my hand will not kneel before my fear. It keeps on writing my life, scared it would fall into oblivion seas. You, who reads my words, you have not read what comes before this last eulogy. You would have ran away, people tend to do that. You should as well. There will be no redemption, no innocence, no happy-ending and, alas, no more fairies for me. On this day, I, Cynishy Kidiur, hereby pledge to retire in his deathbed. There remains one story to tell, one ending to suffer…

Once upon a time, there was a dandilion, subsisting in a yard, that had never dared to cross the garden wall. The lonesome house the flower lived in was as far away from civilisation as anything could. Its owner had the unhealthy habit of running back and forth in the yard, crossing over the garden wall many times. Each day, at noon, he would sit, a teddybear in his arms, and wait for flying lights to appear. Screaming « Please, fairies, come again ! », the way his joyful face turned into sweet sorrow within a short amount of time, when he understood no fairies would come today, was a hearthbreaking scene the dandilion could not stand anymore. A sacrifice had to be made. When the man came to receive his tribute, he held the flower with tender firmness, thanking it for its support. The man kissed the white flower goodbye and blew it away, covering the garden with a warm coat of snow. The wish he made matters not, for in seconds, he shall receive a kiss of his own from the grim reaper. I said, that day, I wished fairies would take me to their realm. My mom, my dad, my sister, my dogs, my cows, my field, my tree-house, my sky and my stars… Each stated no fairies would unveil their saint body and expose it to my disgusting person. At eight years old, I contemplated fairies, or dull trick of the light, as my village judged. This is not the story I will tell you, nor an introduction of anykind. This is how faith flee my soul, how I have to euthanize myself.

Used to work as private investigator, tracking people. Feed my with gold and I could find anyone, anything, anywhere. For over fifty years, kindness kept me on the right path. I searched for missing children, needed to tell the parents good news when none was to be broken. Two months ago, a man posted a letter. Poorly written, sadly decorated, I knew peasants did this. It filled me in with valuable details about the missing Cando, ten year-old boy. I adorned a horse and galloped straight to the house, not understanding what to make of this. They had a modest home in Green Pineapple Street. I looked at it for an instant. I was warned by my expert intuition. It was necessary for me to abandon feelings, faith and hopes, dreams and expectations, otherwise, detectives wouldn't be as good as humanly possible. I knocked on the door. A feminine voice yelled and opened the door. She was a middle-aged woman, ferocious look, clever look, she threw at me. Behind her, threatening, over protective, the husband and another man.  Vilinshya, Cando’s six-year old sister, held her mother’s hand, shaking, frightened. We came in. I sat on an aged gnawed wood chair, facing them. When she offered « wine », I knew how dangerous it would be to refuse. Piscivorous smile, teeth out, threat of an injured animal. She had the maternal instinct to step back when I took the cup. I forced myself to gulp down the bitter beverage. We discussed important matters such as weath for an hour and a half. I went straight up to the point : Cando. During the night, the mother heard her child's bloodcurdling scream. As soon as she could, she entered the room. Nothing. Cando was gone. The mother lead me to the bedroom, like a shepard would with his sheeps. If they get lost, or dare deviate course, the shepard punished, for he sees all. She saw all. Nothing in Cando's bedroom. Clean... Window not broken, lock untouched. The floor was as clean as a peasant house could be. I hurried to find something, anything, a clue... No note under the bed, no blood stain. To focus, I paced around. I suddenly felt a difference between two planks near the bed. I removed one, desperate to escape the stiffling house, full of whispers, expectations and hopes. I didn't have it in me to break another disappointing news and see parents fall. A ticket ! To Disubo Village, about a hundred miles from Green Pineapple Street. It struck me. Disubo Village was known for its offer of safe house, asylum, without distinction of race, religion or age. I hid hit in my backpocket, the safest place I knew. I escaped the spotless bedroom, rushed out, babbling insecere apology : « I haven't found anything, sorry. I will be back soon. » As the Sun was tired, and prepared to bequeath his daily duty to the Moon, I dashed. Wind in my hair, sweat on my forehead, racing all around the city... I was a panicked unstoppable force of thinking nature. In one hour, or less, I got to an inn. Three bedroom, undrinkable muddy beer. Would do for now. A hundred pairs of eyes, hitting me with smirking look, judging how rich I was, where I came from. Then, they remembered a drinking man in an inn as no more origin, skin color. The discussions resumed. Mistake. My work started now, with some spying. All whispers, all discussions, all secret schemes I heard that night. I drank myself to death with apple juice. At last, I could drink something that would not kill me after three gulps. « Unhappy » was a recurrent term to define Cando's behavior. Sick, pale, distracted. This was Cando at his best. Despite the neighbor's warnings to the family, nothing was done. The child wandered during daylight as if a snake bit him perpetually. He had no ennemy. Rage filled my body, I took a sip from the bottle of apple juice, thoughts of horrible suspects appeared. The Sun shone on my shaking hand, a ray of light drew a line for me to cross : wheather or not I was ready to accept the truth. And this truth has never been that painful, that real for a man to hear, alone, in a bar, apple juice in his hand. To be a good detective, forget hope, beliefs, expectations. Drown them in alcohol, burn them and reduce them to the nothingness of mankind. I knew the culprit. I knew where Cando was. It did not occur to me before due to a shield I built for myself. Can't accept human beings as they are, so you see fairies, create the illusion of a « good man ». There is no such thing. I stood up. Touched the floor. Crossed the damn line. I was the carcass of a man, the remains of my childhood. If someone had called me, he would have found no answer to the name « Cynishy ». I sprinted to the family's home, concerned with the possibility I might be forced to interrogate them. I knocked, talked and fought with logical arguments. Three hours passed, I convinced them of the interrogation. I first spoke to the husband and the other man. They were playing chess. Two suspects confirming each other's allibu wouldn't do... Hope the mother had a . She unwillingy sat. No reaction when I mentionned her son could be cut in pieces, dismantled, his cadaver raped and devoured. My experience told me such things happened. But then mothers would cry, flooding the husband's shoulder with tears. Nothing. Hours passed, and with words we battled. Each time I approached the truth, she pushed me away with comments on my private life, my inability to be detective or my mental health. She put up a good fight, outstandingly turning things to her advantage. I, sadly, never have the chance to be wrong. With a magnificent strike, I cruelly put my master card on the damn table : the ticket. There. She smiled with pride. I won. And she knew I won. And all the skies of all the worlds knew I won. However, I lost, on that day. More than my serenity, it was a part of me that broke, turned to dust. When you solve this type of crime in two days, when you accept the truth you are given... End is near. I know I will never see lights flying in the night, breaking the darkness with me, warming my cold dead heart. No more fairies for me. She lost, or won. It was a draw. She had no allibi, asleep in her bed. When she opened the door, screaming at the males, I knew something was wrong. I was trialed with another test when she passed me the beverage. Was I a threat to her ? Then, Cando had the main traits of a beaten child, which I had the misfortune to experience myself. From there, it is easy to say she was beating him. He attempted a first escape. That night, to join Disubo Village, he took the ticket, cautiously hidden under the floor. I learned later Cando was a bastard, born of the union between the mom and her dead fiancé. As the father's purse was full of gold, she kept him : that's the « other » man. The « father » held a grudge toward Cando. All it takes is one bad day, one moment when moral codes fall. The mother was the carcass of a civilized human being. She hated her child as he reminded her of the fiancé. When she got married again, she had two minions to obey her words. In years, the men were slaves. A room was discovered when police searched the body. They found it, along with torture tools, weapons, knives and poison... I couldn't take it. I knew I would find no point in living, working, breathing, eating, sleeping. When I left, wet eyes glanced at me. Innocent, confused and tormented. Tiny drops fell on the ground, washing the soil of the blood, the events and the memories. The half-sister, against a tree, held her head with both her hands, as if she was afraid it would fall. I tenderly took her in my arms, preventing her head to fall and I said : « Don't worry about a thing, every little thing is going to be all right. Cando went to a marvellous place called : « Fairy's Realm ». I went there myself, flying on a white dandilion. There won't be any screaming in the night, nor red scars on his skin. Every little thing is going to be all right. Kind people have accepted you, you are to go to them tommorow. Before that, come. We will drink apple juice all night, celebrating your brave brother. »

There remains no more air to breathe in the world. Changing it could be compared to trying to drink the see in one gulp. I am trying to escape it with a little dignity. The livid shadow of my childhood and I are standing in a madding crowd, both drowning in broken dreams. Isn't it the way ? A haunted detective, drinking, smart, clver, decrepit... Finding burried clues ? Until he breaks the case ? My mast desire is to look at the starts, try to see those lights, those fairies...Pity. No stars. I hoped there would be stars. All I see are lights, spinning. How worthless. No fairies. I thought so. A thousand shining stars are rushing toward me. When my time had come, all I can do is hang myself on a tree, give back everything Earth gave me. For there be no fairies to light up the sky again. To bad these lights in the sky are not fairies. They should stop rushing now. It will only exhaust them. I am Cynishy, the Man Who Saw Them. If you are reading this, I comprehend you have not seen what comes before. You would have run away. Farewell, friends...