#but olli was already pocketing the thing (because i gave it to him (because he was reaching his hand towards it)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ranch-fanpage · 2 years

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Epic story

Hey tumblr, please read my gay little story and feel free to leave any critique. I wrote it for a class and I”m pretty proud of it! Now I have to submit it to a publisher for my final exam, so be as harsh as you want.

Short story: ~ 7200 words

genre: fantasy fiction with some horror elements

Plot: an orphan goes to a foster home and discovers its dark secret.

(CW: blood, gore, and gay people)

Thank you!

Were there places you were bored and/or confused by the story?

Was the ending satisfying? Believable?

Did you get confused about who’s who in the characters? Were there too many characters to keep track of? Too few? are any of the names or characters too similar?

Apple Acres

By: anonymous

CW: Blood and Gore

“William. William? William!”

“Hm?” he answered.

“We’re here. And this time it's in the middle of nowhere, so don’t bother trying to escape.” Williams' social worker gave him a grim look. He has already been to 9 different foster homes, some better, some not, but he always found something to hate and eventually ran away. His social worker was a nice, loving woman, but the years had not been kind to her and after dealing with him time after time, she had lost her gentle touch.

“Get out, I don’t have all day.” She pulled out her cigar and blew a plume of smoke straight at his face. Will hurriedly opened the door to escape and went to lug his suitcase from the trunk.

“Bye kid, have a good life.” She said sinisterly. “God, I hope I never see you again.” She muttered- half under her breath. Will didn’t answer because he was too grossed out from the smoke she had blown on him. He watched the car speed away down the long dirt road, creating a cloud of dust. The first thing he would do after he settled in was take a shower. He silently hoped he had his own room that was free of dust. He watched the car until it was just a little dot in the vast nothingness. The landscape seemed to stretch on forever in enormous fields of short grass and long weeds, with only the occasional cow to break it up.

It occurred to him that there really was no escape.The records of foster homes and their children were shoddy at best and completely incorrect at worst. Someone could leave him here and his files would be forgotten at the bottom of a filing cabinet and he could be lost, never seen or heard from again. No bus came this far into nowhere and his frail, muscle deficient body couldn’t take him very far.

He turned toward the house, but he could only see the tips of the roof through the tall ‘rose bushes’. They were technically rose bushes, but they were mostly tangles of long thorns with the occasional fiery little bud. There was also an old, faded sign that was missing some letter. It read “Welcome To Apple Acres Orchard” after Will filled in the letters in his head. He walked to a rusting metal gate that opened between the rosebushes, thick with thorns. He pulled a pristine handkerchief out of the front pocket of his button up and used it to push a crusty doorbell. He waited for several minutes, but there was no guarantee that it worked, so he pushed the gate open with his hanky. It gave out an awful whine and a bit of the gate crusted off onto his handkerchief. He added the hanky to his mental list of things to wash.

The foster home was an old and weathered farmhouse with a barn on the side. They both seemed to be falling apart in every way possible. By the looks of it, he was surprised it was still standing. He walked through the crusty dead grass that was patchier than a balding man's head.

He walked up the poarch and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked another time. A short, stubby boy that looked about 15 answered the door. He had big, worried brown eyes and a jet black bowl cut. He opened the door more and led Will inside.

“Oh, a n-new kid. C-come in.” The boy stuttered out. “I’m Ollie.” Will didn’t answer because he was distracted by Ollie’s strange limping walk, as if his legs were different lengths.

They walked past a living room. There was a middle aged woman sleeping on the couch that looked like a mess. Her hair was in a messy, frizzy bun and her clothes were covered in stains. Beer bottles littered the floor. It smelt heavily of smoke in the room.

“That’s M-mother. S-she needs a lot of sleep, so don’t wake her up.” There was muffled shouting from another part of the house. “L-luckily she’s a h-heavy sleeper.”

They passed the kitchen and Ollie passed him over to another girl. She was arguing with a younger girl(~11 or 12) about something, but quickly stopped when she saw Will.

“Oh, another one. Hiya, I’m Alex and this is Brat.” She said.

“Hey! That’s not my name.” The other girl said, annoyed, but Alex ignored her. Alex took Will’s suitcase and showed him to his new room. Alex was tall and muscular and looked about 17. He couldn’t help but notice the hundreds of scars all over her in every shape and size. She turned back to him and he saw a large scar crossing her eye, splitting her eyebrow and leading to a chunk missing out of her nose. The eye that had the scar over it looked off to the side rather than straight ahead. The thought of what had caused this injury made Will grimace.

“Well, here it is! Enjoy.” She said half-mockingly. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll leave you to settle in. Dinner will be soon, and get there quick or you’ll be eating dust.” She walked back down the stairs to the kitchen, but she stopped halfway.

“Oh, and stay away from Charlie.” She turned serious before continuing down the stairs. Soon the muffled arguing continued.

The room was small and very dusty and he had to share it with Ollie. His stomach started burning when he saw the rotting floor and visible mold spots on the wall. He dragged his suitcase in and set it on the cleanest looking spot on the floor. The more he saw, the more his legs begged him to run.

He rushed to the bathroom to search for cleaning supplies, but he stopped dead when he saw the sink. It was covered in blood. A corner of his brain imagined it was probably fake. He inched forward and laid his eyes on the rotting carcase of a rat. Its eyes were missing. He shrieked as loud as his feeble, asthmatic lungs could muster. The hundreds of flies infesting the carcass exploded in flight in every direction. Some flies flew straight into his mouth and eyes, choking him. He leaned over the sink and sprayed the contents of his stomach all over.

###

Will sat at the dinner table as quiet and still as he could, wishing he would just disappear. His throat, mouth, and stomach all burned from throwing up and he was still shaking from the sight of the vomit-splattered rat. Despite his scream, no one had come to help or even check on him. He was left to clean the mess all by himself. He had worn 4 pairs of gloves and 2 masks to clean. Short of pouring bleach all over the room, he had cleaned as deeply as possible with the few (and barely used) cleaning supplies he found. Now he carried a pack of wipes and wore gloves wherever he went. He wiped his seat 4 times before sitting down.

As soon as he finished cleaning, he went down to wait for dinner because he had vomited most of his food before it was digested. The dinner bell rang and at least a half dozen kids rushed to the table and fought for seats and paper bowls. After a few minutes they were all seated, with Alex at the head of the table and the cook at the other. So far, Alex seemed like the leader of the pack.

Will felt a light slap on the back of the head. “Wow, you’re almost as skinny as Charlie.” Said girl who had been arguing with Alex earlier that day. She was wearing a frilly pink dress and she had soft golden ringlets framing her face. She gave him a toothy smile, revealing a wide tooth gap. She reminded him of a cyclops because she was wearing a bandage taped to one of her eyes.

All the kids at the table introduced themselves, but he didn’t really pay attention to anyone besides Ollie, Alex, and the eyepatch girl, whose name was “Polly with a Y”. There was a set of twins, a really young set of siblings, and a few other kids who were alone, but no one named Charlie. Will introduced himself and they all asked questions that he didn’t want to answer.

Luckily, the cook started coming around and giving people food. She was about 15, very pale, and her hair was almost white. Her face was speckled with freckles and her eyes were dark red. She walked around the table and ladled them scoops of a chunky, oatmeal-like soup. Will immediately felt sick. The mixture looked and smelled exactly like vomit. All the other kids started gobbling it up as if it was pure ambrosia.

“What’s your name?” He asked when she came around.

“You can call me Cook.” She said as if annoyed by her question. “How much do you want?” Will was disgusted at the thought of eating her sludge-like mixture, but his stomach let out a ferocious growl before he could say no.

She ladled him a big scoop and it fell into his bowl with a thick plop. He looked at the ladle, horrified, when he noticed that she was missing a finger on that hand. He looked at all her fingers and many of them had chunks taken off of them, or the tips completely gone. His stomach gurgled again, threatening to vomit again, but he swallowed and focused on breathing. Cook moved on and he looked back at his stew. All of a sudden the bits of sausage were indistinguishable from pieces of finger. He left the dinner table and gave his stew to Polly, who quickly accepted.

“If you don’t eat you’ll start looking like Charlie.” She laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

William walked out the back door, which he hadn’t explored yet. Rather than the front yard, the backyard was larger, with a lot more area for crunchy grass. It was split apart by a stone path that led to a little apple orchard that blended into a forest. He didn’t care much for nature, but he walked along the path to get away from the house.

He noticed an area with a small wrought iron fence that wasn’t much taller than Will’s knees. He stepped over and found rows upon rows of stones. His stomach dropped when he realized they were all gravestones, each one branded with it's own name and dates. The skin on the back of his neck crawled when he looked ahead and saw what had to be hundreds of little graves. His feet itched when he thought about what he was standing on. This was the only part of the yard where the grass was growing. There were even tiny mushrooms and wildflowers of every color poking out of the flush grass, life nourished by death.

Will was frozen in fear, sure that whatever had killed these kids was coming for him next.

“Are you ok?” A voice behind him asked. Will nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned and tripped over the fence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Will looked up to see the most beautiful person he had ever seen. “I tend to sneak up on people sometimes.” The beautiful stranger gave him a smile and helped him up.

“Hi, I’m Charlie.”

His face was speckled with freckles and he had beautiful green eyes surrounded by long eyelashes. Curly red hair sat on his head perfectly. He was very skinny and Will could easily see the bones in his hands and his joints seemed to stick awkwardly from his body.

“I’m Will. I’m new.”

“Are you hungry?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw you run from the kitchen and I assumed something happened at dinner. It’s not exactly easy for new kids here.” He shrugged. “Do you like apples?”

###

He picked a few deep red, almost perfect looking apples. He handed it to me and smiled.

“I know a nice place where you can sit and eat.”

They walked through the orchard and to the forest. He brought Will to a little creek and we sat down on a rock together. It was dirty and covered in mud and dirt, but unlike usual, he didn’t worry too much.

“Do you want an apple?” Will asked before eating.

“Nah.” He answered.

“But you didn’t have dinner either.”

“Um, I’m not that hungry.” He looked at his feet. “I ate a while ago.”

“You should have one.” Will insisted.

“Alright.” Will handed him one and their hands brushed for a moment. They both bit into the apples and Will was surprised. It was the sweetest apple, maybe the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. It was like a million skittles, a thousand cakes, and happiness in one bite. Charlie pulled out his music player and offered him an earbud.

“There’s no data out here, but I got some music before I came here.” William accepted and soon funky 80s music filled his eardrums. Charlie closed his eyes and relaxed. He leaned back and moved his leg so that it was touching Wills. Their legs were only touching slightly, but Will felt like someone had set his chest on fire. A part of him wished that they could stay here forever.

“You have nice taste.”

“Thanks,” He gave Will a smile that filled him with sunshine.”This is what was popular where I lived before coming here.”

Will watched the stream flow and the gentle rustle of leaves above. He felt better than he had in years. All of a sudden, all the things he worried about didn’t seem so bad. The dirt on his pants that he had been worrying about since he first sat down didn’t seem like a big deal. He felt as if a switch in his brain had been flipped and he didn’t feel like running away anymore.

“You must’ve lived in a strange town if 80s music was the most popular with kids.”

“Yeah, you could say that. The past is a... different place.” Charlie looked uncomfortable and his gaze turned from Will to the shadowed forest around them. “We should be walking back. It's going to get dark soon.” His voice went cold. Will's chest felt tight.

###

It had been a week since Will had arrived and he knew he couldn’t sleep in the bathroom forever. Since the rat started bleaching every surface every day, it was the only place in the house he could be sure was clean. Every night he would lay his sleeping bag in the bathtub and sleep in a scrunched up ball, which made him very sore. He had asked the foster mom to buy him cleaning supplies and she obliged begrudgingly.

First he started with the vacuum, then to the scrubbing, and he sent every fabric he could find through the washing machine. No one else offered to help him except Charlie, which Will thought was insane. Not even Ollie wanted to help, and it was partially his room. If he knew anyone else was cleaning, he’d be there automatically.

“Let me know if you find anything weird.” Charlie said. Will scrubbed the wall with bleach in an effort to kill the mold while Charlie took down the curtains to replace them. Will had found lots of weird things about the room and the house, but he said nothing.

A few days ago Alex had given him a tour of the property, but half of the tour was her telling him not to go into most of the rooms. What really worried him was how serious she sounded when she told him about the basement, which was right under his room. He noticed that the heavy door at the bottom of the stairs was padlocked. Yesterday he had walked down a stair to look at the door. There was a horrible smell emanating from inside that was somehow worse than anything he had ever smelt before. He didn’t want to imagine what was down there because it was somehow worse than the rat and the soup combined. For some reason he desperately wanted to go inside, but he left after only a few minutes of loitering at the top of the steps. The horror of the smell had given him a headache that lingered all day, but he kept finding himself wanting to go back, even just for a minute.

Charlie left the room to get something just when Will finished sealing the holes he found on the walls. Will moved on to scraping the cracks between the floorboards to get the dirt out. He used a little pocket knife and started on the area by his bed. After only a few minutes he got to a board that was different from the others. The difference was slight, but the board was a little darker and there was more space between it and the other boards. Will started scraping, but the board lifted up a bit. Frustrated, he pried up the board and expected to see a mess of mold. Insead, it was a box-like cavity. Inside it was very dusty and contained a small, black, leatherbound book.

Will slipped on his gloves and reached inside cautiously. He slowly pulled out the book and set it on the floor. On the front it had a red symbol that looked like an eye etched into the surface. Looking at the book gave him an unsettling feeling, but he couldn’t quite place it. He heard Charlie climbing the stairs and he remembered that Charlie asked him to tell him about weird things he found. Despite all logic, he felt like he shouldn’t let anyone see it. He quickly slid the book back into the floor and replaced the plank of wood.

“Did you find anything?” Charlie asked.

“Nah, just more dust.” Will lied.

“Oh. Ok, let me know if you find anything.” Charlie sounded so disappointed it made Will want to tear up the floorboards and give him the book, but he stopped himself.

“I will.” Will felt a pit grow in his chest. Seeing Charlie hurt made him hurt too, but he continued cleaning.

Soon it was dinner time and he ran to the table. All the hard work had made him hungry. The other kids soon flowed in and scrambled for seats.

“Hi Ollie!” Will said, trying to sound cheerful.

“H-hey.” He said, but avoided eye contact while he limped to a seat away from Will. Usually they sat right next to each other. Cook began passing around the food. Weirdly, Alex had sat next to Will instead of at the head of the table. In her place was Charlie. Will had never seen Charlie eat anything except that apple on the first day.

Rather than the normal, rambunctious chatter that usually filled the dining room, it was completely silent with only the occasional scraping of spoons against bowls. Will sipped his soup as quietly as possible and tried not to stick out. Charlie was the first to finish eating, which was unsurprising because he ate almost nothing. He promptly left out the door to the orchard. As soon as the door clicked shut the chatter started.

“Quiet a minute.” Alex said to the other kids, who quieted down immediately. Alex looked at Will with a stern look on her face. “I said stay away from Charlie.”

“Why? He’s not bad.”

“You don’t know him like I do. If you know what's good for you, you’ll leave him alone.” Alex grabbed his soup bowl and slid it across the table to Polly, who quickly scarfed down the rest of his food. “Dinner isn’t for traitors. Think about what’s best for you.”

Will had gotten enough beatings in his life that he could practically feel it just by looking at Alex’s muscular, scar covered arms. He knew better than to say anything.

Will got up from the table and left to the front porch. The chatter started up as soon as he left the room. He sat on a rickety rocking chair and crossed his arms tightly around his stomach. He bent forward and a soft sob escaped his lips. He cried as quietly as possible for a few minutes, even though he knew it wouldn’t help. If there was one thing that he had learned in his 14 years of life, it was that feelings get in the way of what's really important, survival.

Later that night Will waited until Ollie had started snoring loudly before he slid his packed suitcase from under his bed. He went around and picked up a few of his last items to pack for the trip. He crept down the stairs and his heart seized with every creaky step he placed his weight on. He tiptoed across the living room to get to the door. He was about halfway through the dark room when a lamp flicked on. Will swiftly flicked his head to Ollie, who was sitting on one of the squishy couches.

“I’m s-sorry for what Alex d-did. I just- I s-saw you around...” Ollies voice trailed off.

“Why did you tell her? I didn’t do anything.”

“Y-you wouldn’t g-get it. I see the way you look at h-h-him.” It was now that Will noticed Ollies PJ’s, which were a short sleeve t-shirt and shorts. Will tried gulping down his horror when he realized this was the first time he had seen Ollie without pants covering both legs. One of his legs was completely gone from the knee down, replaced by an ameture prosthetic made of twisted bits of spare metal. Ollie's strange, ugly walk and the strange clunk that seemed to follow him everywhere made a lot more sense now. Will gagged and hoped Ollie didn’t see.

“Alex was mean, but she was r-right. Ch-charlie is d-d-dangerous. I w-wish I could tell you more, b-b-b-”

“I’m sorry Ollie, but I don’t believe you. Charlie is the only one who’s shown me true kindness. I don’t belong here, I have to go.” Will continued forward to the door and lightly touched the handle.

“No! Don’t g-go. Y-you can't leave!” Ollie exclaimed and started crying.

“I have to go. You seem like a nice person, but I’ll be fine.” Will unzipped his bag. “I noticed you like reading. Here, have this. I found it while I was cleaning.” He handed Ollie the book, thinking he wouldn’t have a use for it. Ollie accepted, but didn’t try to stop him again, only hugging the book and crying harder. Will walked out the door and didn’t turn back.

The further he walked from the house the more he got that familiar feeling, the same feeling he had about the basement. His heart ached with every step, but he reminded himself there was nothing here for him. Nothing… Except Charlie. He had left many homes in all different conditions with different people, but he never missed it, never looked back. This time was different. He felt a way about Charlie that he had never felt about anyone else. He thought about Charlie often and wished to be around him more than anyone else. He took a final step and touched the gate.

“Why are you leaving?” A voice behind him asked. Will turned around to see Charlie standing behind him. He almost imagined he had summoned Charlie because he hadn’t heard him walking behind him.

“Another home. I just don’t belong here.” Will answered. Charlie’s face morphed from worried to angry.

“Why would you say that? Who made you feel like that?”

“It’s nothing, I should leave.”

“No, please stay. I would really miss you.”

“I think I would miss you too.”

“Was it Ollie? Did he make you sad? If you don’t want to stay with Ollie you can share a room with me.”

Will felt a flutter in his chest at the idea of sleeping next to Charlie.

“I guess I'll stay a little longer.”

###

Charlie's room was nice, nicer than any other rooms he had seen in the house. It was connected to the living room and led out to the back orchard. It was much cleaner, but Will found himself cleaning it often so that they could have a nice room.

From that night and on Charlie was almost always by Will’s side. Charlie started joining him for dinner and he would always pull up a chair so they could both eat at the head of the table. Will found meals a lot more enjoyable when Charlie was there and found himself thinking about him when he wasn’t by Will’s side.

Charlie had ‘swore to protect him’ but from what Will saw he wasn’t much stronger than a brittle twig. Will was thankful anyway.

Will noticed the mother would leave for long hours, occasionally bringing food, but she was almost never around besides sleeping on the couch a few times a month.

The dinner table was always quiet when Charlie was there, but Will didn’t mind. Cook would usually skip Charlie, as if out of habit, and he would have to remind her to serve him food. Cook seemed surprised and hesitated for the first few days. Slowly, Charlie started to gain weight. He morphed from practically a skeleton to almost normal looking. The other kids seemed unsettled and would go out of their way to avoid both of them, as if they carried a deadly disease.

Often Charlie would tell Will how great the basement was and how much he wished Will could see it.

“It’s my favorite place in the world. I just wish I hadn’t lost the key.” Charlie would say almost every day and tear the room apart looking for it. Will didn’t notice the fogginess in Charlie's eyes or his raspy voice during these episodes, but they were there.

Will found himself drawn to the basement almost as much as he was drawn to Charlie. He would go and sit at the bottom of the stairs while Charlie was gone. Slowly, day by day, he would inch down the stairs until he had reached the bottom. It was very dark at the bottom of the stairs, but he could see the outline of a shape that looked like the same eye from the cover of the book. He vaguely remembered the horrid smell from the first time he went down, but after going there so many times he had gone numb and now it was only a memory.

He sat down and leaned his head against the door. He heard some faint whispering that he had never heard before.

“Help me help me help me help me. I’m stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck. Help me help me help me” It softly whispered, over and over again.

Will was not the same as when he first came. The old William would have jumped back and ran or probably not ever gone down the stairs in the first place. The new Will rested his ear against the crack in the door and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Wake up. I have a secret to tell you.”

Will woke with a start, a fresh headache festering in his mind from the smell he didn’t know. A bloodshot eyeball was peering at him through the crack in the door. He pushed away from the door and scrambled up a few steps.

“Who are you?” Will said, bewildered.

“A friend.”

“What do you want? Why are you down there?”

“I just want to help. It trapped us down here, and it’ll do the same to you. Get away before it’s too late! I was once whole like you, but it takes piece after piece until there's nothing left.” The voice was rough as if it had been years without drinking water.

“Whos it?”

“The Monster!” It screamed at him.

“The Monster! The Devil! The Curse!” A hundred voices chimed in and screamed at him. “Run! Kill it! Die now! Set us free!” A million different suggestions of what to do. Will was paralized in fear until a hand grabbed the collar on his shirt and dragged him up the stairs and threw him to the ground.

He was dragged away and into the kitchen. He scrambled to his feet and saw Cook looking angrily at him. She pushed him to the ground and pinned his arm down with her knee. She pulled a steak knife from the counter and Will squirmed as hard as he could. She pressed the tip of the knife into his palm slowly until his skin broke and a burst of blood squirted out from where she cut.

Will screamed until his lungs burned, but he knew no one was coming. They never did. She pushed her other knee on his chest with all her weight and crushed the air out of him.

“Never go down there again. The more you know, the more angry the monster gets. Stay in your place.” The knife dug deeper into his hand. He tried screaming, but instead he gasped for air. Her red eyes pierced his and seemed to bore into his soul.

“Don’t make me do any worse.” She got off him and walked away.

He ran up the stairs to Ollie's room and closed himself in the closet. He cried until he couldn’t breathe and then gasped for breath until he had enough to cry again. He hugged his hand close to his chest. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually he heard a gentle knock on the door. The door slowly creaked open. Ollie came in and quietly sat next to Will. He tenderly grabbed Will’s wrist. Will flinched and pulled it away, but let Ollie pull his hand away. He cleaned Will's wound and wrapped it in a bandage. Afterward Ollie sat by to keep company while Will cried more. The dinner bell rang and Ollie opened the closet door to leave.

“Thank you.” Will said gratefully. Ollie nodded his head and smiled, but didn’t say a word. Soon after, Will fell asleep from the exhaustion of crying. When he awoke it was much darker between the cracks of the door than when he fell asleep. He cracked the door open and heard Ollie snoring across the room. There was a small plate of food and a note that Will could faintly read through the dim light of the moon.

“Sorry there's not more, the others didn’t want me to bring any, so I had to sneak it. I hope you feel better.-Oli'' Read the note. Will sat on his old bed and ate the small meal while watching the moon and stars outside the bedroom window. He fell into a restless sleep and dreamed of his oldest memory, being held in his mothers arms.

###

The first thing Will heard that morning was something shrieking at the top of his lungs. He awoke with a start in Ollie's pitch-black room and ran down to see what was the problem.

Charlie punched Ollie in the nose with all his might. Despite his weak physique, a burst of blood exploded from Ollie’s face.

“You stole it! You stole it!” Charlie screamed over and over in a raspy voice and threw more vicious punches at Ollie. A ring of the other kids stood around the fight and watched the show. Will ran to the fight, unable to believe what he was seeing. Charlie was so gentle and kind. Will pushed him off of Ollie. Charlie's irises were blacked out and his beautiful face was contorted in pain.

“Help me.” He whispered softly, as if it were his last breath. His face contorted into anger and his eyes clouded over. He pushed Will away and picked up an old brass key from the ground.

“The key is found. The basement will be unleashed.” Many voices said in unison around Charlie, but he didn’t move his mouth.

“You maggot! You rot forever! Die!” The evil, raspy voice returned and Charlie's arm raised the key. With one swift movement he stabbed the key deep into Ollie's neck.

“Stop!” Charlie yelled to the voice and pulled the key out. Blood poured from Ollie’s neck and pooled on the floor. “He knows too much! Traitors must die!” The raspy voice answered. Charlie's body flung itself off of Ollie. He rolled across the floor and writhed in anger, as if fighting himself. He grabbed fistfuls of his beautiful curly hair and ripped it out, screaming in pain with tens of voices. The body got up and scrambled to the basement.

Will rushed to Ollie's side and grabbed his hand. Tears gathered in Will's eyes. He knew these very well may be his last words.

“The book… A demon.” Ollie coughed, spraying blood all across Will's face and clothes. He grabbed Will's shirt and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “Tell him you love-” Ollie's words trailed off and weakly handed Will the small book before he passed out from blood loss. Hot tears felt as if they were burning trails down his cheeks. Cook pulled Ollie away and quickly started tending to his wounds, though she was more than aware the odds of survival were against him.

He flipped through the thick pages of the book. There were pages and pages of handwritten notes and illustrations. He found the part about demons and skimmed the book, but there was barely anything written. Some of the pages were burned or splattered in ink, while the others were written in an unintelligible code that was strange and foreign, unlike anything he’d seen before.

There was only one line he could read.

“An act of love to purge the demon,” it read. Will's attention was pulled away when his ears rang with the screams of a hundred voices. The same force as before pulled him to the basement, stronger than ever before. The other kids stood at the top of the stairs. The heavy door was wide open, revealing a dark cavity. Will gazed at the light and felt his vision start to cloud over. His legs started to walk to the basement, as if against his will. A firm hand gripped his arm.

“No. This has gone on long enough.” Alex pulled him back and looked around at the other kids. “I’ve been here for thirty years and watched countless kids go down there and never come back. If we want to fight this we need to fight it together. This ends tonight.” The other kids agreed.

“But we have no plan.” Polly pointed out. They all looked around and shared what they knew about the monster.

“It can’t attack us all at once. If we surround it, then it doesn’t stand a chance.” One of the twins pointed out. Will felt a pit sinking in his stomach when he watched the kids pass around weapons to face the beast. Horrible screeches rang out from the basement. Will knew that whatever that creature was, it wasn’t Charlie. It couldn’t be.

The words from the book echoed in his mind. An act of love to purge the demon, An act of love to purge the demon, An act of love to purge the demon. Could love really kill a demon? What even is love, and what did that mean?

The kids cautiously inched into the basement, step by step, with Alex leading them. Will held a steak knife descended into hell. Instead of a normal basement, there was nothing but a skinny rock tunnel that led into darkness. Miscellaneous candles and flashlights were passed around and the descent began. The kids filed into the cave and continued until they reached the main cavern. Sharp rocks protruded from the floor and ceiling. The walls were splattered in a layer of red and chunks of flesh. The smell hit Will again, filling his senses and burning his throat and nostrils. His head swam from the smell. They continued through the cave and the horrors of carnage they saw would forever be burned into their memories. At the end of the tunnel was the worst. The air was thick with the smell of rot. The spiky rocks impaled what seemed to be twisted, mutilated limbs and body parts of every kind.

There at the end was what seemed to be Charlie's body, sitting on a big, bloodstained armchair. He was covered in a black rash that covered parts of his skin. His foggy eyes rolled back into his head and his face contorted into an evil expression of twisted joy.

“Welcome to my playroom.” the monstrous voice said. “So, you’ve all come together into a cute little group. How nice it will be to watch you die.” It cackled menacingly. Charlie's clothes were drenched in blood, part of it from Ollie. His body was twisted and contorted and he breathed unnaturally, but his beautiful face remained untouched. His limbs grew long and bony and he reached out to touch Will.

“So cute, your love for Charlie. But Charlie is gone. He was weak.” The creature grabbed Will's face and squeezed. “I’d like to watch you die. It will finally break Charlie and save him from weakness.” The monster's nails dug into Will's skin and tears streamed down his face. Charlie's eyes grew watery.

Behind him, Will could hear the children screaming. The monster turned his head and made him watch as monsters rose from piles of carnage. A dozen kids stitched together into a dozen different bodies, like a warped jigsaw puzzle. Their eyes were ripped out, leaving nothing but empty sockets. They stumbled closer to his siblings. Polly struck one with a shovel, but it did nothing but delay the creatures. It fell, but soon got back up as if nothing had happened. More rose from the darkness, their sickly faces illuminated only by a yellow light in the middle of the chamber. Alex’s heart dropped. She recognized bits and pieces of the monsters. A scarred leg, a burned hand, a severed ear, all pieces of different kids over the years sewn together into demented forms, but others were mangled and rotted beyond recognition. Alex almost never got sick, but the sheer horror of this twisted show left a knot in her stomach. Bugs of every kind swarmed the room at the disturbance of the creatures. A newer, less decomposed monster stumbled toward Alex. A maggot crawled from it's empty eye socket. Acid burned up Alex’s throat and threatened to come out. She looked away from the monster and down at its feet. She gagged when she realized it's leg from the knee down was Ollie’s, which he had lost to the demon years ago.

The monster turned Will's head back and Charlie's face relaxed. A disembodied voice tormented Will.

“Look at him, so beautiful, yet he will be the last thing you ever see.” Will opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into the hand that held his face. The monster dropped him and howled in pain.

“You brat! You’ll be the first to die.” Will knew this was the end, but the words from the book repeated. An act of love to purge the demon. He flung himself at the monster and wrapped his arms tightly around Charlie's body. The monster desperately dug it's fingernails into Will's back, tearing his shirt and drawing blood, in an effort to keep Will away. If Will was going to die, he was glad if it was in the arms of Charlie.

“This isn’t you. I know you’re in there. Please fight it.” Will whispered in Charlie's ear with despair. Nothing happened. The monster sliced further into his back and the pained screams of his family, the only one he had, sounded into his ears.

“Goodbye Charlie. I’ll miss you the most.” He grabbed Charlie's face in his shaking hands. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Charlies. The claws dug deeper and deeper. He waited for the world to go dark. He thought of the first day, when they shared the apples together, followed by countless hours of time spent together. Will and Charlie, Charlie and Will. This was the end. The screaming stopped and Will heard nothing but the thump of his body against the ground and an intense pain growing in his head. The End.

##############################################################

Polly was surrounded and a dozen sickly monsters were closing in. She backed against the sides of the cave, no escape in sight. No matter how many she hit, it would always get back up and a few more would join by its side. The floor of the cavern was slick with pools of blood. She slipped and hit her head on a rock protruding from the wall. The pools of blood soaked her clothes. The creatures grew closer. She stared into their empty eye sockets and thought of her own. A monster grabbed at her face and tore the eyepatch off her face, revealing a similar socket left by an encounter with the demon years before. She kicked the creature back, but it did nothing to help. A whimper escaped her lips.

She looked through the crowds of monsters and saw Will lean into Charlie's body. The monsters screamed.

“I love you.” The words echoed around the cave. The monsters grew furious and slashed Polly’s face. Around her, thumps of bodys sounded around the cave. Another creature grabbed fistfuls of her silky golden hair and pulled her to the crowd. She screamed with all her might and closed her eye. The creature opened it's rotting mouth, sparse with teeth.

“Polly!” Alex slid to Polly's side and sliced the hands off of the creature holding her hair with a sharp butcher's knife. She grabbed Polly's wrist and pulled her away from the attackers.

“Charlie did something. They can die now.” Alex stood over Polly and shielded her from the monster. She picked up a rock and bashed it against a monster's knee. It's bone shattered with a grim crunch, but it continued stumbling forward. Polly also recognized the parts of many of her past friends and family. She sincerely hoped the monsters couldn’t feel pain.

They worked their way through the crowds, helping the other kids and gathering weapons. Soon they made their way to Charlie. Will was laying in a pool of blood that was soaking his hair. The kids lifted him off the rock that hit his head when he fell. They surrounded Charlie's body and readied their weapons.

###

It wasn’t until many hours later that Will would awake in an unfamiliar room, in a bed he had never seen, far away from Apple Acres. His head pounded and his body was drained of all energy.

Maybe it was the rock he hit his head on in the cave, or maybe it was the trauma from the horrors he had seen, but every moment of his time at Apple Acres and his time there was scraped from his memory. He didn’t remember any of it. Not his siblings, not the house, not even Charlie. This chunk of his life would be missing from his mind for the chunk of 20 years, until one fateful day…

#writting #story #fantasy #horror #short story #please read #critique #mlm #monster

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: a teeny bit of angst (resolved)

A/N: hi, loves! i will be changing updates to this to once a week because i would like to get my final other WIP out that has been sitting in my drive forever and i have graduation stuff. ALSO, i hit 400 followers!!! thank you thank you <3 here is the celebration!

Masterlist

Chapter 32

“Okay, everyone ready?” Spencer asked.

“Yep,” you smiled, grabbing Jo’s hand, “Just let me get a picture first.”

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and faced it towards Spencer, “Smile!”

Spencer turned sideways so both babies would be visible in the photo. He was wearing one of those double baby carriers so Ophelia was strapped to his back while Ollie was up front.

You all walked out of the room and down to the parking garage while passing nurses and visitors would ‘aw’ at the adorable family that had just practically doubled in size.

“Honey, can you put Jo in her booster seat in the middle first?” Spencer asked.

“Yep, up you go, Baby J,” you helped her into her new booster seat.

On both sides of Jo were now two newborn baby car seats so she could keep the twins entertained on the car ride.

You unstrapped Ophelia from off of Spencer’s back and littered her with kisses, already missing her in your arms. You buckled her in securely as Spencer did the same to Ollie on the other side.

Spencer got in the driver’s side and you got in the passenger seat. You both turned around to look at all your little kids in the back row.

Spencer turned to look at you with a huge grin, “We’re going to need a bigger car.”

“Spencer Reid, I am not driving a mini van,” you gave him a quick peck.

“Fine, I’ll just have to steal one of the FBI’s many SUVs,” he joked.

Jo switched her attention between both babies during the car ride, giving you and Spencer a play-by-play of everything they did.

“Ophelia is trying to squirm out of her blanket so I’m tucking her back in,” she stated.

“Thank you, Princess,” Spencer smiled, rubbing soft circles on your thigh as he drove.

“Ollie’s little hat is almost falling off so I am going to put it back on.”

“Thank you, baby, you are being such a good big sister,” you complimented her.

Once Spencer pulled into the driveway, Spencer grabbed Ollie and you grabbed Ophelia out of their respective seats.

“I’ll come back for the bags in the back,” Spencer said as he walked up to open the front door.

“I wanna hold her please,” Jo made grabby hands up at you with Ophelia in your arms.

“You can hold her when you are sitting, Baby J,” you assured her, patting her head.

Jo followed you up to the nursery, Spencer’s old bedroom. You had the cribs and other basics set up but you didn’t decorate because you were hoping to be moving soon. You and Spencer put an offer down on the house near JJ and Will’s and were waiting to hear back.

“The babies are going to take a nap right now and we are going to have lunch so say night night,” you lifted Jo up to give the babies a kiss before their nap.

Spencer placed Ollie in the crib with Ophelia, “I read up on co-bedding in one of the pediatric magazines at the hospital and if the twins are small enough, having them sleep together in the same crib can provide benefits including regulating body temperatures and sleep cycles, plus it soothes them.”

You and Jo gave the babies kisses and then you grabbed the baby monitor and switched it on.

“You coming, love?” you placed your hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“One second,” he whispered, his eyes not leaving the two twins cuddled up together in one crib, “They’re just too perfect.”

You awoke to find Spencer in the rocking chair in your room in between the two bassinets. You had their cribs set up in the nursery for naps but they would do most of their sleeping in here with you guys until they were a few months old.

“What’s wrong? Are they hungry again?” you whispered, rubbing your eyes as you sat up.

“No, love. You can go back to bed. Ophelia was getting a little fussy which made Ollie fussy too but I think they just wanted some tummy time,” Spencer smiled softly as he had both the babies pressed to his chest.

“You are the best dad ever,” you blew him a kiss before resting your head back on the pillow.

You were lulled back to sleep by the quaint creaking of the rocking chair and Spencer’s loving whispers to the babies.

“Where’s Daddy?” Jo asked as you served her a bowl of oatmeal.

“He’s changing the twins. He’ll be down in a bit,” you assured her as you sat down across from her.

You watched Jo push around her oatmeal a little but not really eat any, looking up to the stairs frequently to see if her Daddy was coming down.

Spencer finally entered the kitchen with the twins, “Love, do you want to take Ollie?”

You opened your arms and accepted Ollie into your arms, “Hi, my little one!”

“Sorry it took so long. I was trying to get them properly swaddled but this princess right here was trying to escape,” Spencer grinned at the baby in front of him.

Jo pushed her still-full bowl of oatmeal towards the center of the table and scooched out of her chair, stomping slightly up the stairs.

When you heard her bedroom door close, you turned to Spencer with a disappointed look.

“Spencer, I know the twins are very exciting but you have to remember you have 3 kids, not 2. You hadn’t even said good morning to her yet.”

“I was going to!” Spencer insisted.

“And you called Ophelia ‘Princess’. That’s your nickname for Jo,” you pointed out.

Spencer sighed, he hadn’t even realized he had done that. He placed Ophelia in her bouncer seat and reheated Jo’s oatmeal. He even placed blueberries on top in the shape of a smiley face before heading upstairs.

Spencer knocked gently on the door. His guilt increased tenfold when he heard the little sniffles coming from inside.

“Jo, I know you’re mad at me and you have every right to be but may I please come in?” Spencer asked through the door.

He heard the sound of light footsteps and a teary-eyed Jo opened the door. Spencer immediately knelt to her level and set the bowl down on the floor.

“Jo, I am so sorry I made you feel forgotten because I got too wrapped in trying to take care of the twins. I promise it will never happen again. You are my only Princess, Jo. We’ll give Ophelia a different nickname.”

“I forgive you, Daddy,” Jo hugged Spencer.

“After you finish breakfast, we can do whatever you want today, Princess,” Spencer smiled.

Jo beamed as she scooped a bite of oatmeal into her mouth.

You knocked on Jo’s bedroom door where you heard whispers and scuffling of footsteps.

“What’s the password?” you heard Jo announce in a deep voice.

You looked down at the construction paper invitation with lots of glitter glue that was slipped under your bedroom door.

“Sunflower.”

The door opened, revealing a mini table with pillows all around it as seats. Jo’s tea set that Penelope had gotten her was beautifully arranged on the table along with little finger sandwiches and cookies.

“Oh my, how did I get so lucky to be invited to this exclusive tea party?” you smiled, “I know the invitation said ‘dress fancy’ so I hope this sundress is suitable.”

You gave Jo a little curtsy before entering. You had Ollie wrapped in a cloth baby bjorn around your front because he was taking a little nap but Ophelia was wide awake in your arms.

“You look like a Queen, Mommy!” Jo did a little twirl for you in her ruffle dress with strawberries all over it.

“So do you, my little Princess,” you smiled back.

Spencer was already seated on the floor in a full suit like he would wear to work. He shaved and slicked back his hair.

“Ah, I see the King has already arrived,” you chuckled, bending down to give him a kiss.

“Indeed, my lovely wife. I brought the bouncers up for the babies to sit in,” Spencer informed you.

You placed Ophelia in hers but kept Ollie in the bjorn because you didn’t want to disrupt his peaceful slumber.

Jo poured you all tea and Spencer added a little bit of sugar and honey to the tea cups.

“Do the babies want tea?” Jo asked, still holding her tea kettle.

“The babies can’t have tea just yet but thank you for offering,” you smiled, gently picking your cup up.

“Pinky’s up, Daddy!” Jo instructed.

It was rather comical to watch Spencer try to hold the tiny porcelain tea cup in his large hands.

“The tea is absolutely exquisite, Princess Josephine. I believe I will have one of these gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to go with it,” you smiled.

“I’m exhausted. Mommy needs a nap like the twins and Jo,” you chuckled as you fell back on the bed after putting the sleeping twins in their bassinets.

“Are you sure you don’t need a shower first?” Spencer questioned.

You looked at him and quirked an eyebrow.

“What? You know what your sundresses do to me,” Spencer whined.

“I guess I have a little energy left,” you grinned, grabbing his hand as you tip-toed to the bathroom to not wake the twins.

A/N: another reason i need to push the updates back is because i am going camping next week (i wish spencer could protect me from any bears)!

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @doctorreiding @reidsfish

#spencer reid fluff #dad!spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #cm fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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dragonseattofu · 3 years

Note

NekuShiki question time! #2 :)

Who said "I love you" first? When?

Do they ever go dancing? How does it go?

Who is more affectionate with the other?

First I love you

The person who I envision to say the first “I love you” in the post-NEO world would be Neku. Pre-NEO I would hands down have thought it would be Shiki, because out of the two I feel like Neku’s more of an awkward sort and wouldn’t know how to put romantic feelings into words. But after NEO I feel like Neku became a little better at conveying his feelings and here’s why:

He watched her exit the elevator. She was talking to someone holding a camera bag, possibly the photographer she had just hired a couple of days ago. He remembered their evening meal yesterday, one he had to pry her away from her work to partake in, relating to her upcoming photoshoot. He learned their usual photographer had double booked and she had to scramble to find a replacement. The replacement looked young, around their age, and seemed to be bowing a goodbye to her before walking towards the exit behind him.

Neku continued to watch her, as she pulled out her phone from her Mr. Mew purse. Shiki tapped furiously at the screen, with speed rivaling Nagi, and seconds later he felt a buzz in his pocket.

After tucking her phone back away, Shiki moved toward the turnstiles situated near the door and finally saw him. It took her a second to overcome the surprise, he didn’t tell her that he was coming to pick her up, but she immediately brightened as she walked toward him at a steadfast pace.

How many days, months, years had he waited and hoped for to see a sight like this? To feel like this? Like his chest tightening in anticipation of her being in his arms, his cheeks warming at her smiling at him for simply … existing? How long had he spent thinking about the life he could have had with his friends, with her?

When Neku was dropped into the Shinjuku UG, he went into shock. Why? Why was he back when he was banned from ever playing the game again? He had just gotten his life back. He finally didn’t feel so alone in the vast seas of Shibuya.

But then he got shot … again.

His cynical side thought, maybe this was his retribution. He didn’t deserve friends, not after what he did to him…

But then he remembered them, and what they had all said to him.

“Let me in! Tell me what you're thinking!”

“Give up on yourself, and you give up on the world.”

“You're not my partner anymore man, you're... my friend. So trus' that yo!”

Come on, work with us. A problem shared is a problem halved!

And then he could have sworn he heard her…

“You finally came back to us … I knew you would.”

“I’m so happy you're back, Neku.”

He didn’t remember her saying that to him, but it wasn’t the first time he felt like he saw things that haven’t happened yet, things that could happen if he played his cards right. Visions of a future that gave him some … hope.

Every battle he fought, every new area he stumbled into, every floating thought he passed, all led to this hope that he would get back to his friends.

When he wasn’t fighting to survive, or when Coco was standing watch so he could rest, he thought about them. Was Beat skipping classes still? Was Rhyme learning how to do those ollies Beat was trying to teach her. Was Shiki … was Shiki hanging out with Eri right now? Was she fixing a stitch on Mr. Mew? Did she miss him, the same way he missed her?

His time in the RG after playing three weeks in the reapers game was short, but nothing less than wonderful. Shiki and Neku went on a couple outings together, just the two of them when the Bito siblings had family errands. It started out a little awkward, especially when familiar restaurant and store keepers thought they were an item already. A specific ramen owner was the worst of them all even though his teasing came from a place of fondness for the pair.

Without him realizing, being with Shiki was almost as natural as breathing, and every moment he spent with her was fun, interesting, precious to him.

Neku didn’t get the time he needed to work out how important Shiki was to him before being plunged into the Shinjuku UG, but three years of company to only the disembodied thoughts of lost souls and an occasional “fairy” reaper gave him the opportunity to delve into it. The conclusion he reached gave him the motivation to keep fighting, to keep surviving. For once, he had someone worth living for.

“Earth to Neku?” Shiki waved her hands in front of his face.

He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Shiki stood on her toes, trying to look at his face underneath his overgrown bangs. He felt her touch his cheek, concern marring her adorable face.

He hates that he brought so much strain to her life. Maybe she could have been happier with someone else, someone who wouldn’t break their promise to go shopping the next day and abruptly disappear.

But then she smiled at him, having noticed that he simply zoned out. And all of a sudden his negativity stopped spiralling and he felt grounded again. He may not feel like he deserved her, but she chose him nonetheless.

She chose to never give up on him, that he would survive the ordeal he was thrust into. She chose to be the best version of herself that she could be while she waited for him.

And then even after all that time had passed, she still chose to be with him.

Neku didn’t know if there was a word that encompassed the overwhelming emotion he felt whenever he thought of Shiki. One certainly felt close enough though.

“Hey Shiki?” He asked, putting his larger hand over her smaller one that lingered on his cheek.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he said that to anyone, if he did at all. Even though Neku had told Shiki almost immediately after his arrival in the RG that he wanted to be more than friends, he hadn’t used that word before. Love was still such a foreign concept that he wasn’t sure he understood it completely, but if there was anyone in the whole world he could associate love with, it would be Shiki.

Shiki’s hand on his face stiffened at the sudden confession. For a hot second, maybe it wasn’t the time or place she expected him to say it. He felt a slight panic from the doubt of her not reciprocating his feelings.

But those thoughts were quickly thrown out when she leaned in and kissed him.

It was a kiss longer than they had ever shared before. She was physically telling him something, but he was a little preoccupied to fully process anything. Shiki pulled away, far quicker than Neku would have liked, carrying the sweetest grin he ever saw on her.

“I love you too, Neku.”

Dancing

Shiki would have this fancy company dinner that she’d have to go to for networking. As friendly as Shiki is, she’s still introverted and the whole event just sounds utterly exhausting. Neku would be her plus one, because even if that’s the last place he would rather be, he’s her partner, and that’s that. She gets well enough along with everyone, but she has to make the rounds and greet everybody, leaving Neku alone at times. Thankfully Eri’s also there, and the girls take turns between networking and keeping Neku company. He surprises both of them when the head designer for Jupes notices Neku’s deep purple button down shirt from Jupes under a Gatto Nero’s half grey plaid - half black solid blazer (it’s visually better in my head than what I just described), and wants to talk to the designer of the jacket. Neku goes full endorsing mode for his girlfriend, and smiles smug when the girls realize they didn’t need to worry about him, much less securing a major deal with a major brand for a collaboration. He’s pretty happy with himself when he hears a version of Someday play on the surround sound. The dance floor opens up, and a couple of people start a waltz.

Neku thinks to himself, it’s an odd thing to have a dance in the middle of a company dinner, but dinners in the fashion industry are often hosted by the most eccentric of people, and he supposes it’s not so peculiar after all.

The melody plays soft and slow, and if he’s honest with himself, it’s a pretty good rendition of one of his favorite songs. He sees Shiki from the corner of his eye, silently asking her to dance as he extends his hand out. She’s surprised at the gesture. Neku’s many things, but dancer’s not one of them. The exaggerated kicks he’s so fond of are sort of hard to move elegantly in. A simple slow dance, he thinks, is enough for him to handle. Her thin finger slipped effortlessly into his hand.

More affectionate

Post-NEO, I feel that both are pretty affectionate toward one another, but in different ways. Shiki’s more physically affectionate, she’s more of a hugger and is always holding his hand, or his clothes, just so she can feel that he’s there. He doesn’t initiate physical touch as often as she does, but he never let’s go, or moves away from it. This happens more naturally as they start dating, snuggles and such.

Neku’s more affectionate verbally. He’s gotten comfortable saying what’s on his mind more often. He’s not shy about complimenting her, she doesn’t need his reassurances but his opinion is important to her nonetheless. He’s a natural flirt; says things that would be considered suave without intention. He would say pick up lines without realizing that they were pick up lines.

Okay, so I’m like not really sure how best to put my thoughts together but here goes:

The Shibuya and Twister kiddos would all be at some fashion function, and the Fret and Beat would comment on how attractive some of the models are. Neku would just be like, “yeah, they are attractive, but they aren’t as beautiful as Shiki.” Him referring to how much he loves her appearance as well as her personality, whereas he knows nothing about these girls so all he is going on is their looks.

And of course Shiki, who has pins in her mouth and is trying to get her models ready, hears this. Her jaw loosens and the pins fall on the floor. She’s essentially flushed and flabbergasted, by what he said and how nonchalant he said it. He looks at her like he said nothing wrong. Then he just smiles at her, and she just stutters out curse words. She doesn’t have time for this.

Notes: I’m so sorry for the late reply. I’m such a slow thinker and writer! But thanks again for the ask! The first prompt sort of snowballed. Hope you like it! @doesitringabell, I added a collection on Ao3 dedicated to you for any/all other prompts that end up longer than I had anticipated. Check out the source content.

Also sorry for any typos and such, let me know if you spot any. If anyone is still interested in my rambling mess of Neshiki fanfics/ficlets, don’t hesitate to send me more asks! It might take a while, but just know that my moments of silence are just me tinkering with ideas (writing something, hating it, revising it, writing again, rinse, repeat, then screw this, just take it.)

#TWEWY #Neshiki #NekuShiki #the world ends with you #NekuShiki question time #ntwewy #neo twewy #twewy neo #the world end with you neo #neku sakuraba #shiki misaki #daisukenojo bito #rhyme bito #eri #coco atarashi #my post #mypost #myfanfiction #myfanfic

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goldenboywrites · 3 years

Text

in my mind, you're mine forever

“Ollie?” Oliver Davenport looked up mid pancake flip and met the adoring gaze of Theodore Maddox-Wicker. He leaned across the counter after Theo hopped up onto a stool and ruffled the kid’s bedhead even more. “Good morning. Did dad already leave?”

“Good morning, birthday boy.” He flipped the pancake again before deeming it worthy enough for the boy sitting across from him. “Yes, he left early for work but he wanted me to tell you that his first present to you was not waking you up before he left and that he will be home early to celebrate with all of us.” Oliver spooned cut-up strawberries onto the plate then poured a healthy amount (which Apollo could scold him for if he were present) of syrup on the pancakes before passing the plate off to Theo. “Your uncle Cass will be by later and your aunt Artemis…”

Theo forked a strawberry, his carefree smile turning into a frown. One that pained Oliver’s heart to see. “But I won’t see my dad.”

He wasn’t talking about Apollo.

“No,” Oliver said carefully, turning off the stove and placing the last pancake on a plate for himself. “Probably not tonight but you’ll see him this weekend. And I heard a rumor that he may be taking you to Australia for a few days as an extra special surprise but don’t tell him I told you.” The former Gryffindor grabbed a fork and cut through the side of the pancake. Theo’s frown only deepened and Oliver inhaled slowly before continuing. “I know it’s not what you want but both of your dads are doing their best. Remember that, kiddo.”

Theo made a noncommittal noise and ate some of his pancakes. Oliver knew him well enough to see the gears turning in that brain of his. “Do you think my dad will come home soon?”

He nearly choked on the piece of pancake in his mouth. Immediately Oliver grabbed a glass of orange juice and washed it down. He glanced at Apollo and Isaac’s son, the most wonderful kid he had the pleasure of knowing. There was nothing Oliver wouldn’t do for Theodore Maddox-Wicker. He would move mountains, slay dragons, give him a kidney. This was the kid that he and Cassio both loved as if he were their own. Guilty, his gaze quickly shifted down to his own plate. He didn’t have the courage to tell Theo that he didn’t know.

“I wish they would just talk like they used to,” Theodore said as he pushed his plate away, more than half of it was uneaten and Oliver knew he should be the adult in the situation and make sure the boy ate a good breakfast but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when it was the first birthday Theo would have to celebrate twice because his dads weren’t together. “I know they still love each other.”

Oliver sighed, pushing his own plate aside and resting his arms flat on the counter. He bent his back, groaning lightly at the light crack of his spine. Fuck, he was getting old. They all were. “I think they’ll always love each other, kid. And if it’s meant to be then they’ll find a way back to each other. All we can do is give them time.”

“Time makes things worse. Space makes things worse.” Theo argued, his mouth forming a pout.

Not always. Sometimes staying together when things aren’t working does more damage. Is what Oliver wanted to say but he had to remind himself who he was talking to. A child whose entire world was upside down and changing. He didn’t want to crush the innocent hope he still had. “Alright, you’ve got me there.” Oliver threw his hands up in mock defeat.

“So you’ll help me then?”

Oliver Davenport’s face paled and his brow furrowed into a line of confusion. “Help you?” He questioned.

“Parent trap them, duh.” Theo reached his hand out expectedly and gave Oliver an impatient look. “Phone, please.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Oliver admitted but still took his phone out of his pocket and handed it off to Theo despite the uneasiness he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Please tell me you just want to play candy crush…”

“I’m going to get them to talk or remember how much they love each other and our fam-” Theo explained at the same time that Oliver warned, “Theo…”

“Please, uncle Ollie?” Oh no, his heart clenched in his chest and he tried to look away before but no, Theo that look on his face. His big, brown puppy dog eyes staring up at him as if he put the stars in the sky. “Please help me. I can’t do it without you…”

Oliver sighed. Then he sighed again. After that, he crossed his arms over his chest and light stomped his foot out. It wasn’t fair. The love he held for this kid wasn’t fair. Cassio was going to murder him for getting involved. “As your father’s best friend,”

“I thought uncle Cass was dad’s best frien-”

“Uncle Cass and I are a packaged deal so if he’s your father’s best friend then that makes me his best friend too. Also, I saved his life one time and uncle Cass hasn’t,” Oliver paused, shaking his head. “Never mind, anyways. As your dad’s best friend I say heck yes, let’s do it. But I also feel like I need to also say that as the only mature, responsible adult, and your unofficial guardian when your dads are working, that I do not approve of meddling in other adults private affairs.”

But Theo wasn’t listening. He was punching in number’s on Oliver’s phone and then lifting it up to his ear. Oliver heard it ring and then the muffled voice of Isaac on the other line. Theo whimpered at sound of his dad’s voice and huffed out, “Hi dad,” trying (and succeeding) in making himself sound as sad and pathetic as possible. He was good. He was real good. And Oliver was scared about what he had just agreed to do.

===============

“This better be an emergency. I’m trying to leave the office on time,” Apollo muttered into the phone as he tucked it between his ear and his shoulder. “Please tell me you were able to pick up the cake.” He shuffled through a thick stack of papers, notes from his three current court cases. The work never seemed to end these days.

“Hi, sister. How are you? Are you well? Are you enjoying the nice weather we’re having?” She said in a mocking tone. “It’s amazing to me that you have so many clients when you clearly don’t know how to properly answer the phone.” Sometimes, most of the times, Apollo wished he was an only child. Having a twin sister who constantly called you out on your own bullshit was exhausting.

“My clients don’t pay me to be polite on the phone,” He reminded her with a sigh. “They pay me to win their cases.”

She scoffed and he imagined rolled her eyes at the same time. “Ah yes, my brother. The shark of the wizarding world. Anyways, I was checking in to make sure you didn’t need me to pick up anything else but since you’re in wonderful mood, I’m not sure I want to do you any favors.”

He was trying. Really he was, despite what everyone around him thought. Despite what Isaac believed about him these days. He was trying to be a better person and a better father. He was trying to control his anger, still trying to work through the hardships he had faced in his life. There were still quite a few things that haunted Apollo even though he had tried to put his past behind him. A lot of it was bubbling back up to the surface now that Isaac had left him.

“Hello?” Artemis sang into the phone. Apollo shook his head and refocused.

“Just get to the house. Oliver is there with Theo. Cass is picking up dinner and I will be home in half an hour.” Apollo stopped suddenly, his phone nearly slipping from his ear as he felt the wards around his building shift in a sickeningly familiar way. He gritted his teeth and then, in an attempt to calm himself, took a sharp breath. “Just keep an eye on Theo, okay? He’s really struggling with everything that’s going on and I want him to feel special on his birthday. I know he’s disappointed that-” He couldn’t say his name. He wouldn’t. The door to his office opened and Apollo glanced up to see a trio of men standing in his door. “Artemis,” He hissed, not breaking eye contact with the man in the middle.

“Yeah, Apollo. I know. We’re all make sure he has good time tonight and you will too, right? You’ll be home on time? Promise me you won’t let him down today…”

The men walked to the bar cart on the right side of Apollo’s office. They helped themselves to glasses of scotch. With his free hand, Apollo rubbed at his forehead. “I uh,” Sometimes the weight on his shoulders felt so heavy he was scared he would crumble under the pressure. “Something has come up. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Apol-” He hung up on her.

“This better be good,” Apollo said through gritted teeth as each of the men took a seat in front of him. “I have somewhere important to be.”

The man seated in the center, tapped his fingers against the glass and raised a brow at him. “Do you now? Something more important that this meeting, you say? Do we need to remind you that you are indebted to us for life? Must we remind you that you are here in this fancy office because we put you here? You would be rotting in Azkaban with Beery if it weren’t for us. So how about we start this meeting over again. This time with manners.”

Apollo gritted his teeth so hard, his hands shook and he laced his fingers together so they wouldn’t see. An empty glass on the bar cart behind him shattered. Yet he didn’t pay it any attention. Instead he leaned back in his chair and forced a tight grin to show. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Maybe one day he would free from the things that held him prisoner.

#In my mind you're mine forever

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

In which Rafael Barba deletes the Twitter app because of the Householder case, and Carmen babysits him.

Accidental Feminist Icon

The last thing on Rafael Barba’s mind when he was in the hospital room with Maggie Householder was his online reputation. Once he’d turned himself in and been released on his own recognizance, however, he opened his phone to call mami and instead saw hundreds of Twitter notifications, emails from people whose names he didn’t recognize, and missed calls and voicemails from unfamiliar numbers. He didn’t touch Twitter, texting Carmen to ask how bad it was and she advised him to delete the application until at least after the trial. When he went home, mami was there and just as disappointed as he expected. There were tears the minute she saw him, but not any offered comfort.

“You murdered a child, mijo.”

“You don’t understand, mami. No lo viste. El no estaba realmente vivo.”

“Esa fue la decisión de Dios. No es tu decisión. Tu abuela estaría tan decepcionada de ti.”

“No estoy de acuerdo. Si estás aquí para regañarme, vete a casa.”

“Te llevo a la confesión.”

“Vete a casa, mami. Me confesaré cuando esté lista.”

“Rafa-”

“Go home.”

Lucia stormed out, and Rafael went inside his apartment and went straight for the scotch he kept aside. It wasn’t his good scotch. It was the cheap one that burned his throat and left him sicker than he ever was the next day. Before twisting off the cap, he heeded Carmen’s advice, deleting the Twitter app as he dropped to the couch and began to drink. It was only eleven, not even noon, but he didn’t want to remember what had transpired the day before. He should wade through his email, but someone had posted it. He knew because it was referenced time and time again that they’d found his personal email via some Twitter thread or Subreddit or something else he hadn’t yet encountered. He’d had to mute his phone as phone calls rolled in; the only one he answered confirmed it was strangers from the Internet who had seen the news. Carmen called it getting cancelled when it happened to other people. That usually didn’t involve the loss of a life, so the term seemed not quite right for what was happening, especially given the fact this included more than just the people he was used to. People who had never encountered him were hearing about him in the news.

He ignored Olivia’s calls, considering the morning’s interactions enough. As he drank, Rafael was able to filter unknown numbers and messages, tossing the phone aside and quickly finishing the bottle. Olivia came by, and he didn’t answer, choosing to lay back on the couch as the room spun around him. Carmen texted him, and he didn’t look. An hour later, he heard her outside of his door with Olivia and unlocking he apartment for her. He’d given her a key long ago so she could get files or suits or drop off leftovers. Both of them came in, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had his suspenders down and shirt open over his undershirt. He’d spilled the most recent tumbler over himself with the pizza he’d ordered. And now, they could see him like this, eyes rimmed red and mood unstable as he thought more than he could about himself.

“Mr. Barba,” Carmen said softly, kneeling by him. Olivia stayed closer to the door, surveying the room. By the nature of their constant proximity, Carmen had seen the tail end or starts of Rafael getting frustrated, though he always pressed it down with a glass of scotch and good meal. That said, she’d found him too drunk after a trial didn’t go his way. Seen him frustrated as he went through a case he may not be able to do anything about it. Caught him yelling at paperwork as though something would happen. She’d also seen him the next mornings when he came in pretending not to be insanely hungover and was wearing the suit from his office.

“I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t. Is this what happens between an eight o’clock bourbon and the office suit?”

“Shut up, Carmen.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry,” he said with a huff as his hand ran down his face, and Olivia had to stifle a laugh at how properly embarrassed he looked. “My email and phone are bad. How bad is Twitter?”

“Medium. A lot of people understand. Or they feel that they can’t understand, so they’ll watch the story.”

“People understand murder?” he scoffed.

“No. No one does. But we all understand how impossible your choice was. How badly the parents were hurting.”

“I was too selfish to do it for my dad.”

“I know, Mr. Barba. But people want to know how long until they hear more. Want people to wait. Can see why you did it. It’ll blow over. We can change your number and your email. Twitter has a really handy button. Block.”

“My name’s Rafael.”

“You’re my boss.”

“Not for long,” he chuckled bitterly before his gaze softened. “All I wanted was for people not to hurt.”

“You need to go to bed, Rafa.” It was Olivia now, and his eyes suddenly snapped open. It was different when it was Olivia. They were friends, but they kept things to work. Other than the occasional group event, they’d grab dinner after work. She didn’t hear him debate pocket squares or see him drunk alone in his office or help him think of replies on Twitter. He’d probably lose his friendship with Carmen once he wasn’t in the office, he supposed. She humored her boss a lot more than she probably should.

“I’m fine, Liv.” It came with more of a snort than he liked, and he was suddenly pulling himself up to sit, wrapping his shirt around himself as though it were a cardigan. Carmen watched he was steady, and Olivia was sure she now knew what she’d looked like when Noah was learning to walk on his own with her hand on his back to keep him upright. Once things passed, she wanted to ask if Rafael was always this willing to be relaxed around Carmen, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

“I don’t think I’m helping things,” Olivia said softly, and Carmen gave a gentle nod.

“My son’s with my mom for a visit. I’ll take care of him.”

“You’re sure? I can call Lucia.”

“I’m fine, lieutenant. And mami has already been here.”

“Make sure he meets with an attorney tomorrow.”

“I make his calendar. I know.”

“You two can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he grumbled, heels pressed against his eyes. “I’m drunk, not deaf.”

“You’re belligerent, counsellor.”

“Call me Rafael,” he said again, flopping onto the couch when Olivia had left again.

“I thought Lieutenant Benson was your best friend, Rafael.”

“She is, I guess. Is that sad? My best friend used to be Alex, but I pursued that case. As if mami needed more reason to hate me.”

“You don’t act like you in front of her. Not all the way.”

“This isn’t me.”

“It’s you without a carefully constructed persona.”

“If that’s the case, I suppose you’re my best friend, Miss Frye.” She’d expected to see a bemused smirk or annoyed scowl, but Carmen was taken aback by how sincere he looked as his hand moved to rest on her forearm and squeeze as well as he could.

“My name’s Carmen,” she teased. “Now come on. You need to go to bed.”

“My suit will get wrinkled.”

“I’ll hang it for you.”

“You can sleep in the guest room. It’s not safe for you to go-” His eyes were suddenly wide. “Carmen, where’s Ollie?”

“With my mom. I told her you needed me for a couple days.”

“You don’t need to disrupt your life.”

“I’ll tell you a secret Mist- Rafael.”

“What?” he asked, flopping into bed where she’d pulled the blanket down once he managed to strip to his boxers.

“You’re my best friend too.” She tugged the blanket over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He smiled up at her, and she made her way out turning off the lights. It seemed silly to say it to someone like him, but they’d worked together a long time, had a lot of late night talks. She liked him more than a lot of people she knew, and saw him more than anyone outside of her family.

Carefully, she cleaned his living room, dumping his other bottle of cheap scotch out and disposing of both before setting up the coffee to brew at seven, just in time to have him at an attorney’s office by nine. McCoy had approved her to work from wherever she needed to in order to keep Rafael functioning. She’d have been miserable helping Peter Stone with this trial anyway. They both knew about his father, and it seemed he may be a ticking time bomb. She logged into his twitter, going on a blocking spree as she explored his mentions, tweeting from her own account and his that she’d done it and retweeting it from his account.

She also liked all the kind ones. The ones asking for understanding or expressing empathy. The ones that acknowledged he had an impossible choice and neither one would have sat well with their own conscious. Leave a child and his family to suffer without end or expedite the inevitable. Then there were his direct messages. Since getting verified, he had the ability to only see messages from people he followed. As she combed through, there were a couple of hateful messages she ignored, but most who knew him expressed understanding and a couple even included leads if he wanted out of the city. She marked those down in her notes app before falling asleep in the guest bedroom.

The sound that greeted her in the morning was Rafael Barba vomiting as the coffee machine roared to life in the background. Silently, she ordered ginger tea and vitamin b12 for delivery, going to fetch the pedialyte she’d brought from home. When he came out, hair wet from a shower, she’d already brewed him tea, cooked breakfast, and given him an expectant look as she slid a glass of unnaturally purple electrolytes to him. He didn’t know what to say, so he took the proffered glas and took a long sip before wincing.

“Grape,” she said plainly.

“Grapes don’t taste like that.”

“Ollie likes it okay. I make him popsicles though.”

“He’s old enough for popsicles? Isn’t he still on milk?”

“Rafael, he’s two. He drinks milk, but he even eats.”

“Does he like books yet?”

“He does. He really likes being read to.”

“I’ll read to him next time I see him.” He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick. “Do you play him music?”

“Some. Usually my playlists.”

“Play him Bach.”

“You’ll have to tell me what’s best to play him.”

“I’ll send you a playlist.”

“Why Bach?” She watched as his jaw shifted from side to side, lips pressed together, and that told her all she needed to know. “Drew liked Bach?”

“He’d never know if he liked Bach. Maggie was playing one of his cantatas.”

“Maybe we can take him to an orchestra one day.”

“There are some shows. Kid friendly.”

“He’d like that.”

“I’ll send it to you.”

“You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Me?”

“It’s your idea.”

“You’d still let me around your son?”

“My son is a healthy vibrant boy. If he was in the same situation as Drew, it would be hard, but I’d still want you there. You did exactly what I would have done for him, okay?”

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Which part?”

“The last part.”

“You probably are my best friend. And that hasn’t changed. I wish you didn’t have to be put in the situation, but I would hope I’d have been strong enough to do the same. And other people agree with me.”

“God, you’re not actually looking at Twitter.”

“I looked at Twitter. I blocked anyone vitriolic. But, I collected all the kind ones in your favorites for when you’re ready. A lot of your attorney friends have job leads for you if you leave the DA’s office.”

“I’m leaving. And I’m probably going to fucking prison. You’ll be down a friend in a few months.”

“Stop it.”

“They’ll end me in there, Carmen. I sent some of them there.” She wasn’t sure what to make at how at peace with the prospect he was.

“And you won’t go to prison. Don’t focus on that. Even if you do, they’ll have to do something to protect you. And I’ll come visit you.”

“You barely know me.”

“We spend more time together than I do with anyone else. I know you’re good, you have a good heart, you send birthday presents to every SVU detective’s kid and think I don’t know you send them coffee gift cards on their birthdays. You’re a total mama’s boy and despite what a snarky prick you are, you have imposter syndrome out the ass. You’re lapsed enough Catholic not to go to church, but you pray when things are really bad. I also know some part of your brain feels like you’ve let down people who think you do good work by this one thing, but one bad doesn’t outweigh an exorbitant amount of good. I hope Ollie has half of the ethical backbone you do. I know there have been occasions in the past you weren’t perfect, but the man I’ve known deserves every ounce of credit he gets. That doesn’t mean you’ve never made a mistake.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, and much to his chagrin, Carmen wrapped him in a hug that he returned, refusing to look at her. He was suddenly aware he’d cry if he looked at what he knew was a genuine smile. “I’ve got to get dressed to see an attorney.”

“Who are you going with?”

“Randy Dworkin.”

“He’ll be good.”

“I hate to admit that. And I’m sure I’ll hate every second with him.”

“How about you teach me about Bach this afternoon?”

“You have work.”

“McCoy approved me to be remote.”

“So you’re my sitter?” She could almost swear a smile pulled at the corner of his lip, and she felt pride she didn’t expect.

“I suppose. So Bach?”

“Bring Ollie?”

“Deal.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #Rafael Barba x Carmen

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absentlyabbie · 3 years

Photo

a family and (mis)fortune fic

on ao3

moments growing up in the life of tommy merlyn, part-time wayne foster child. (eight)

—————

Tommy wasn’t his dad. He couldn’t keep up the cold shoulder long, and it hadn’t worked anyways. His dad could go ice all over and ignore you until you were apologizing for anything you could think of that might have made him mad, hoping you’d get the right one eventually, and realizing as you went down the list how much you’d deserved the punishment.

Bruce and Alfred just politely left him alone and went about their business. Tommy didn’t know what he’d expected, really. He’d only been here days, and he was nobody, really. What did they care if he was quieter than before?

Dick, though, was like Ollie at his most obnoxious but times a hundred. If Tommy’s cold shoulder worked on him, it was only because he was the same as Ollie and didn’t like being deprived of attention. And just like Ollie, mad was still attention and he had just as much fun being a jerk as being friends.

Tommy felt like such a pushover that it worked on him, every time. He wasn’t any better, really. Being the focus of somebody’s attention was always an opportunity not to be passed up. He never knew when it might happen next.

And unlike Ollie, Dick had a way of making you feel like his attention was all about you. And Tommy knew it made Oliver sound bad, and he wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He couldn’t help the way things just sort of revolved around him most of the time.

(That was at least a little bit Tommy’s fault, too. It was always easier when it was about Ollie. It was awkward and just… too much when they made things about Tommy for too long.)

Tommy at least appreciated that Dick knew what buttons not to push once Tommy had stopped giving him the silent treatment. He seemed mostly determined for them to just pick up where they’d been before, getting to know each other, kind of, almost getting to be friends.

(Even though Tommy was still kind of mad at, well… everyone, but he couldn’t help thinking how Dick was still his favorite part about being stuck here.)

Dick was homeschooling this year, apparently, so they did homework together in the library sometimes. Tommy wasn’t going for-real back to school—in Starling, at least—until January, but he still had to do all his reading and assignments and tests. Dick even helped him with math, Tommy’s mortal enemy. He was disgustingly good at it.

It just sort of… all fell apart like that. Dick just wore him down with a direct assault of annoyingness, finishing him off with a Mortal Kombat-style friendship fatality. Alfred just sort of. Snuck in there. Tommy wasn’t even sure when he stopped giving Alfred the cold shoulder, only that he didn’t think he meant to. He just kind of realized all of a sudden that he and Alfred were normal again (or whatever “normal” was after only a week) and had been for a couple days.

Bruce was easier, a little. He just… let Tommy keep giving him the cold shoulder until he gave up. And after a few more days, it just seemed silly to aim it at just Bruce when he’d already forfeited like a sucker with Dick and Alfred. But nobody made him talk about it, or punished him for it, or called him a brat, or anything. It was just weird.

So much here was weird. Like, Gotham was super weird. Sometimes Bruce would have the news on at night and they’d talk about Batman—who was cool, but still weird—or about the insane criminals blowing things up or trying to poison the water or bombing a whole city block with laughing gas. Tommy doubted he’d ever get used to it.

All of a sudden, Tommy looked up and realized it was Thursday and he’d been in Gotham for nearly two weeks. Two weeks of a completely foreign city, too much unfamiliar house with too few also unfamiliar people in it. Two weeks since he’d been allowed to talk to Ollie, because the adults all agreed that Tommy needed time to “settle in” without unnecessary reminders making him more homesick.

He’d expected the time to drag on like torture, and while there were stretches it had felt that way, for the most part it all just kind of rushed past him.

Of course, now that he’d realized he only had a few more days of the best-friend-phone-call embargo, he was sure every minute would feel like three hours.

Except, for once, something broke Tommy’s way.

The phone ringing didn’t make Tommy look up from the kitchen table where he was doing a worksheet on the water cycle. The phone rang all the time here. Bruce was apparently very popular, for some reason.

Tommy ignored it as Alfred left the pot of soup bubbling gently on the stove to pick up the kitchen line, his low, polite British voice just pleasant background noise.

Until he said Tommy’s name.

Tommy’s head snapped up so hard his neck twinged, but he just stared at the back of Alfred’s neatly pressed shirt, his head bent as he listened to the caller talk.

“Yes, he’s right here, in fact. Of course. One moment, if you please.”

Tommy was all but vibrating.

Alfred, finally, turned around. His expression was all mild pleasantness as always, but there was sparkle in his eye, and Tommy almost thought his mouth was trying not to smile. “Master Tommy, you have a phone call.”

Tommy leaned so far forward in his seat the edge of the table bit at his chest. “For me? But… I thought…”

Alfred lowered his chin and raised one eyebrow. “Indeed. Now do come take the phone, it’s rude to leave someone waiting, and I’ll need to rescue the soup in another second.”

Tommy stood up so fast his chair screeched on the linoleum. Wincing, he rubbed suddenly sweaty hands down his jeans and tried to make himself walk calmly to the phone—

what if it wasn’t Oliver, what if it was someone he didn’t know, what if they asked him things he didn’t want to answer

—which only last for about three steps, the last few a scramble with hands already reaching and an excited grin busting across his face.

Alfred handed over the receiver with a wink, already headed back to the stove as Tommy shoved his face against it. “Hello?”

A beat of silence that could have been years. A beat where his heart didn’t.

And then: “Toooommmyyyyy!!”

Tommy jumped in place with a delighted whoop, then answered, “Oooollllllliiiee!!”

Finally. Finally. With Oliver’s voice in his ear, things felt just a little more right again.

—

Bruce stood in the kitchen entryway, shoulder leaned against the doorjamb, one ankle crossed over the other and his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Tommy, oblivious to his presence, show more energy and animation than Bruce had seen since Starling.

He had agreed with Moira and Robert—though he suspected Moira was the main driver of the decision—that it could be most helpful to Tommy to keep the boys from calling until Tommy had a couple of weeks to adjust to Gotham, to adjust to being away from everything he knew. It had made sense to Bruce that the reminder of Oliver, couple with the distance, might only make being away more painful.

But after watching Tommy react to something with that front of coldness and silence over an explosive anger and some hurt Bruce could only guess at, he had buckled. He was doing enough to Tommy, taking him even part-time away from the only life he’d ever had. He still truly believed it was better for him than any other alternative, but now, he couldn’t see a way that letting Tommy drift through these halls without feeling connected to anything would be anything other than harmful.

So he had called Robert. Moira, of course, would have been a harder sell, and while Bruce expected he could have negotiated her down, the idea of negotiating for the smallest piece of Tommy’s happiness felt… distasteful.

Robert Queen was a disaster of a husband and father, and a mess of a CEO, but he did genuinely seem to care for Tommy. After a short conversation, Robert had ended up suggesting the early phone call himself.

Watching Tommy now, Bruce knew they’d made the right decision. He could even hear Oliver from here, all the way across the kitchen, as the boys talked a mile-minute at high volume, half the time running over each other in their excitement. Tommy seemed practically lit from within.

Bruce didn’t quite understand the connection between the boys. Dick had teased him about growing up without other children, but he’d been right, really. Bruce hadn’t had siblings, hadn’t known his cousins, and little about his life had positioned him for close friendships. But his understanding was irrelevant. There was so little good in Tommy’s life, so little genuine, healthy connection of any kind. Bruce would be damned if he severed this one.

At the stove, Alfred shot him a knowing look—and an approving smile. Bruce ducked his head gratefully.

Abruptly, something changed in the light, bright atmosphere built by Tommy’s enthusiasm, and Bruce zeroed back in.

“Wow!” His tone had gone brassy, the excitement and happiness ringing with a false note. “Seriously, the premiere? For Pagemaster? It’s not even out yet! That’s… oh. Cool. I mean, yeah! I’m, I’m glad it’s good. Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see it eventually.” A hollow laugh; Bruce winced. “Hey, no spoilers. No, no it’s cool. We’ll just… we’ll talk about it later. Right. Sure. Yeah, I know. I wish we could’ve gone together, too.”

Bruce and Alfred shared another look as the conversation began to wind down from there, this one sadder and more concerned. Tommy had deflated at the mention of the movie. The first missed experience he and Oliver would have otherwise shared. That it would only be the first seemed to be settling around Tommy’s shoulders like a leaden cloak.

In the bargain Bruce had struck with the Queens, he had sought, ultimately, to achieve minimal disruption to the healthy parts of Tommy’s life. School. His key friendships. He knew, of course, that it would be far from a seamless transition, and that it wouldn’t be easy to make the initial adjustment. But strategically calculating the cost-benefit balance of a child’s loneliness and unhappiness was a far different thing than watching it live and breathe in front of you.

Bruce watched solemnly as Tommy said his much quieter goodbyes. He pulled the phone from his ear and simply, stared at for a second, lost and at a loss. Bruce couldn’t see his face from this vantage, but he saw as Tommy’s shoulders twitched back and rose with a deep breath before he set the receiver firmly in the cradle.

When Tommy turned around, he startled to see Bruce in the doorway.

Bruce tried a smile for him. “Good call?”

“Yeah.” Tommy pushed the word a little too hard, but what followed was a little more relaxed. A little truer. “I’m really glad I got to talk to Ollie. I… I miss him.”

Bruce pretended not to notice the break in Tommy’s voice, and Tommy looked away with a sniff. Turning his head, unfortunately, didn’t hide the shine of tears filming his eyes.

In his chest, Bruce’s heart squeezed like a fist.

He would blame this odd pain for what happened next.

Putting on a warmth and brightness of his own, Bruce asked, “So what was that movie you two were talking about? Anything good?”

Tommy’s eyes cut up to him surprised before dropping back to the floor, one shoulder shrugging. “Uh. I guess. I haven’t seen it yet, it’s not even out yet. Ollie’s dad knows somebody who works with somebody or something and he got them tickets to the premiere yesterday. I mean. I guess Ollie liked it.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “What movie?”

Another of those jerky little shrugs. “The Pagemaster. It’s got the Home Alone kid in it and monsters or something. Part of it’s cartoon, like that old Roger Rabbit movie.” He scuffed his toe over an invisible spot on the tile. “We saw the previews a couple months ago. We… we thought we were gonna see it together.”

That damn pain again.

“I could take you.”

It was out of Bruce’s mouth before it registered in his brain, an appalling anomaly. At the stove, Alfred’s head came up in alarm, his eyes wide and unabashedly questioning Bruce’s sanity.

But Tommy, in front of him, had raised his head, some uncertain, dubious hope pinching at the corners of his eyes. “Take me?”

In for a penny. Bruce cleared his throat. “To see the movie. You and Dick, of course. When is it in theaters?”

Tommy’s eyes were slowly rounding, a new light in his face. “Next week. Like, Thanksgiving Day, actually. You’re really gonna see a movie with us? Can we go then? And I can call Ollie after?”

Shit.

Bruce had hoped to salvage this offer by taking Dick and Tommy to the movie and trusting Dick to be responsible for an hour or two in the actual theater. There was no backing down to that now without denting Tommy’s burgeoning joy.

His voice rasped a little on the way out as he said, “Yes. On Thanksgiving. And you can call Oliver after.”

“Thank you!” Tommy shouted, throwing himself abruptly forward to wrap his arms around Bruce’s middle.

It lasted only a second, and Tommy didn’t even seem to register he’d done it as he was already running out the door, yelling Dick’s name.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce murmured belatedly.

Alfred cleared his throat loudly and Bruce turned to him with a grimace. “I know.”

“Do you?” Alfred asked sternly, brows raised and eyelids half lowered. That damn look still managed to make Bruce feel about four feet tall. “Or have you perhaps taken leave of your considerable senses?”

Bruce sighed and slumped harder against the doorframe. “You saw the look on his face. I can’t take it back, Alfred.”

Alfred’s sigh was much more dignified. “But can you go back? Can you truly?”

Bruce tensed, the hands still in his pockets tightening into fists. “We’re not going there.”

Alfred waited until Bruce looked him in the eye. “Will that matter?”

Bruce straightened, freeing one hand to rub at the tension in his neck. “It will have to. He needs this. And I need to give that to him. I owe him this much.”

Setting the soup pot on a cold eye of the stove, Alfred patted his hands on the front of his apron and stepped towards Bruce, grave understanding darkening his gaze. “It is a kind, good thing you are trying to do for that boy. Even if he may never know the value of this particular gesture.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Bruce insisted, with perhaps a bit too much heat. “It’s not about being grateful. He has been more than grateful enough for too long. Let him take this one for granted.”

Alfred considered him for a long moment before, finally, gracing him with an approving nod.

It was the right thing to do. It was still the right thing to do. Bruce hadn’t stormed down to Starling out of the blue and bulldozed the Queens and the child welfare system to take Tommy in without knowing it would be hard. He wasn’t afraid of hard.

This was why he had done it. Why he had been unable to simply go about his life after knowing Rebecca’s son, that frightened, lonely, small boy at her funeral, cringing from his father’s displeasure, was orphaned and alone in the world.

Tommy deserved, for just a moment, to be a child. To be only a child. Not a chameleon, adapting to every expectation that confronted him. Not a castoff, unwanted, a burden to be shuffled from unwilling hand to reluctant hand.

A child.

For almost any cost, Bruce would give him that.

It was the very least he deserved, and what he had been denied for much too long.

—————

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist @icannotbelieveiamhere @p0cketw0tch @andyouweremine @storiesofimagination @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline @cronusamporaofficial @batsonthebrain @adeusminhacolombina @nothinglikeweplanned

#tommy merlyn #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #olive queen #family and (mis)fortune au #fam au

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cursedlore · 3 years

Text

Forever Breakfast

After Oleander reveals a secret about his past to Edomie and The Plum Witch in the mountain core, the trio converges at Plum Pocket to avoid talking about it at all costs.

LexiDriftander - Oleander jordan.nova - Edomie boblins - The Plum Witch

---

LexiDriftander Ollie inched a bit closer to Edomie as they stood on the doorstep to Plum Pocket. Admittedly, he feared meeting the young witch again, and not only because she openly raged against Kaithol every chance she got. Edomie radiated a rather comforting presence. He knew he'd never come talk to Plum on his own.

But, there was something they needed to talk about, wasn't there? So much, in fact, that no single topic came to mind, just the fact that they needed to talk. So he waited, and he let Edomie knock on the door, even though they'd entered Plum's house unannounced before.

For some reason, this time, it felt like their arrival needed to be announced.

jordan.nova As Edomie knocked on the door, she felt Ollie pressing close to her. She turned to give him a reassuring smile.

It felt a little strange to stand awkwardly outside Plum's door and wait for her to appear. She was to the portal network dropping them directly into Plum's enchantment room. Edomie recalled being somewhat disoriented the first time she had ever seen the massive structure from the outside.

Edomie took Ollie's hand and gave it a light squeeze. Somewhat to comfort him, and somewhat to steady her own nerves. She tried to crane her head to see inside the massive windows on either side of the door, to see if there was any sign of Plum inside.

boblins The Plum Witch fell out of bed with a start. Had she heard something outside? Using one of her shelves as leverage, she pulled herself shakily off of the floor. One of several stacks of textbooks teetered precariously on the edge of her mattress. A knock gave it permission to heed gravity’s enticing call, scattering books and journals across the tile.

Scrambling back up the rungs of her bunk bed, the witch peered warily out the window. Her bleary eyes focused on the identity of the knocker, widening in shock as she recoiled back from the window sill and back-pedaled off the edge of the bed again. It’s those two, of course it’s those two, why does it haVE TO BE THOSE TWO-

Maybe if she stayed really still, they’ll think she’d gone out. Maybe if she stayed quiet, she could creep her way up to the portal and pray that a stray piglin didn’t notice her wretched, pyjama clad form crawling onto their turf.

Another knock.

She couldn’t answer it. She wasn’t going to answer it.

LexiDriftander "She's not home," Ollie said with a shrug.

He angled his head toward Edomie and willed her to agree. Already a sense of foreboding crept up his spine. Plum could curse them too, right? That was something she could do?

...was that something she would do?

Yes, Ollie decided. Yes, she would.

jordan.nova Edomie frowned uncertainly. "Hmm... maybe not..." she reluctantly agreed.

She slipped her hand out of Ollie's and stepped over to one of the windows and cupped her hands against the glass to peer inside.

She didn't see any sign of Plum on the first floor. Just that big, twisted up knot of prismarine and Plum's spooky bubble that lived in it.

"Where d'you think she is?" Edomie said against the glass. "I haven't seen her around anywhere lately."

LexiDriftander "Could be in the ocean," Ollie murmured. "Working on...whatever that is."

He peeked in the other window, his breath fogging up the glass. With a jolt, he stepped back and rubbed away the fog with his shirt sleeve. Wouldn't want to leave behind marks or anything.

jordan.nova Edomie frowned at the weird bubble floating in its watery glass chamber. It looked different lately. Used to it was just a little blue ball tucked in a seashell. But recently it was... open. Like an eye that was staring at her.

She liked that thing less every time she saw it.

Edomie pushed off the window and stared up towards the higher stories. Not that she could see anything from the ground. "I've been at the Waystation, and I haven't seen her around there. I feel like I would have seen something... or. Maybe she would have said something to us..."

Edomie glanced around the surrounding shore, looking for any evidence Plum had been or was currently lurking around. A little frustrated, Edomie turned back to the upper windows, cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed "PLUUUUUUM WIIIIITCH! ARE YOU UP THERE?"

boblins The Plum Witch stood frozen in the middle of the floor, eyes darting frantically back and forth across the room, searching for…for…something-

The sound of Edomie yelling her name jolted her out of her stupor. She darted behind Sweev’s shrine, dislodging the little terracotta offering jar from its pedestal as she did so.

“Brilliant.” She thought, squeezing her way through the narrow passage behind the statue, “They definitely heard that.”

She tumbled out into her potion storage, mangling her poor netherwart bed on the way. She’d fix it later, she resolved as she scaled the ladder to the rafters. It was fine. Slipping a couple bottles out of a nearby chest, just in case, she picked what she hoped was the least noticeable support beam, and settled herself awkwardly onto it.

jordan.nova Edomie continued squinting overhead at the unhelpful quiet. "Huh. Maybe she is gone. I don't hear anything."

She made her way over to Ollie to check in his window with another skeptical squint. Nothing helpful here, either. She glanced at the door, pondered it curiously, then turned to Ollie. "I think we should look inside," she said, in a more hushed voice. "Maybe she left a note or something."

LexiDriftander Words of disagreement poised on his tongue, Ollie suddenly froze. "Uh, wait, Edomie," he said. "Did you hear that?" One hand nervously flew to his mouth, where he nibbled on the tip of his thumb. He angled his ear toward the door.

Something like pottery being knocked about. Did Plum have pottery? She liked to decorate with eccentric things, surely there was a pot or two about.

"I think someone's in there. Maybe we should, uh. Not go in?"

jordan.nova Edomie spun on her heels in a small circle as she scoped out the surrounding area again, and her gaze landed on the upper story windows again. "Hear what? Something inside?"

Edomie jogged to the door and tried the handle. It didn't feel locked or otherwise obstructed. "We should go in and check, then," she suggested, pushing the heavy door open and lingering in the doorway. "Maybe Plum is here."

LexiDriftander Ollie grabbed Edomie by the hand. It was something she used to lead him around, so maybe he could lead her away from potential danger. "It sounded like something moving. Uh. Pottery, or something. But Edomie, what if it's not Plum? What if someone snuck into her house?"

jordan.nova Edomie halted when Ollie grabbed her and spun to face him. "If it's not Plum, she could be in trouble. Something could be after her!"

She grimaced as a thought struck her. "When all those cursed monsters were crawling, a bunch of skeletons showed up in my cottage... Maybe something weird is going on. Or something with her portal again. Something coulda come through."

LexiDriftander Ollie couldn't help a tiny whimper of trepidation. "Do you really think so?" He shifted on his feet, anxiety showing in his knitted eyebrows. "That....that, uh, that wouldn't be good."

He stole a glance through the window. "Or...or maybe something with her magic went wrong..." That eye in the prismarine had to be staring at him.

jordan.nova Edomie followed his gaze to the prismarine structure, and she fidgeted uncertainly. "Could be. Witch magic's scary stuff. And she's... she's looked kinda sick lately..." Her hand twitched in a restless manner at her side, then snatched her pickaxe out of her satchel.

Her diamond treasure was hardly a makeshift weapon on a good swing, but she felt more secure with it clutched to her chest.

"She could have hurt herself or something. We need to check. Let's go," she decided, striding for the ladder in the corner and dragging Ollie inside behind her.

LexiDriftander "Oh...we're going!" Ollie's sentence ended in a yelp as Edomie dragged him inside. He clung to her once they got to the ladder, and then slowly released her once he realized she'd need her limbs to climb. "Um. Sorry. Uh. You go first."

jordan.nova Edomie hooked her pickaxe in the strap of her satchel. She'd rather keep it in hand, but at least it would be a quick grab.

"Stay close to me," she advised Ollie in a low voice. She jumped up the first few rungs and began climbing.

LexiDriftander Ollie nodded obediently and grabbed the rungs of the ladder as soon as Edomie’s feet were above his head. He scrambled up to the next level and gave the room a quick once over.

Plum slept in this room, and so did the Wraith at one point. But neither of them were to be seen at the moment. He inched into the room, catching the sound of the portal in the room above. He hoped they wouldn’t have to go any higher. “I don’t see anyone,” he whispered to Edomie.

jordan.nova Edomie secured her pickaxe in hand and crept further into the room, tensed and ready to swing it at any skeleton that may or may not be lurking to jump out at her.

Some disarray of books and pages around Plum's bunk bed caught Edomie's eye. The askew blankets threatening to fall from the bunk on top of the pile also seemed quite out of place, compared to the Monster's pristine bed, and the neatly maintained cots that Plum had once set up for Edomie and Sweev to sleep over. She must have never taken them down.

"I don't either" Edomie whispered, her voice carrying through the room anyway. "Looks like she was though - look at her bed."

boblins Despite her half-expecting it, Plum flinched at the sound of the downstairs door unlatching.

This was a stupid, stupid hiding spot. Maybe she should relocate. Go sit in the conduit frame or something. No, that wouldn’t work; her two uninvited guests were on the ground floor at the moment, so she’d probably get caught on the main ladder. Besides, judging by the way they were staring at the conduit right now, they’d probably notice right away. She couldn’t help but feel a little offended at the side-eye the two directed towards it before moving on to the second floor.

No, no, it was fine, she concluded...as long as they didn’t look up.

LexiDriftander “It looks like she left in a hurry,” Ollie said, noting the disarray. “Maybe...going after whatever else is in here...” He took a half-step closer to Edomie, and then closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the house.

Portal upstairs, conduit pulsing downstairs...the light sound of Edomie’s footsteps, but nothing else. The enderman he heard in the distance was probably a trick of the mind, and besides, they wouldn’t be a threat to Plum.

Whatever was scary enough to jolt her out of bed was either long gone or very quiet.

Or...?

His eyes sifted over the contents of the room, searching for a proper hiding place.

She’d been avoiding them for the past few days. Of course, she wouldn’t want to see him after...after that. Of course. She was afraid of him.

He was about to confess to Edomie and suggest they leave her alone when his gaze struck the terracotta pot on top of the Sweev shrine. He grabbed onto Edomie’s hand— “Hey, Edomie—“ and pointed at it.

jordan.nova Edomie startled when Ollie grabbed her hand, but she managed to halt the reflex to take a swing at him. Her gaze followed where he was pointing to the little Sweev shrine. The ceramic dish that usually sat in front of Sweev's effigy was overturned, spilling a few spooky red mushrooms on the floor. Edomie felt her stomach twist. That felt like a very bad omen.

She gave Ollie an apprehensive glance, then squeezed his hand to keep him close as she hesitantly approached the shrine. She craned her head around the pedestal to the tangle of scarlet vines that hung decoratively around the effigy. "There's a crawlspace back there," she recalled. "Hid back there probably, if we don't see it here."

LexiDriftander Ollie eyed the crawlspace warily. “I’ve been back there before,” he said. “Sweev and I were...curious.”

He crouched down next to it and decided not to mention how many times he’d come poking around Plum’s by himself...with their nether portals so close, it was easy to travel here. And he always wanted to learn how to brew potions but he was too afraid to ask her for lessons.

“She’s got a lot of storage back there I think. But, uh, there’s a ladder you can use to get out. She, or, or whatever is in this house, might have gone out that way.”

jordan.nova "Or might still be there!" Edomie said, steadily forgetting to keep her voice low as stress began to creep up on her. The pulled Ollie along as she clambered awkwardly behind the shrine. "It could get in her magic stuff, what would we do then?"

Edomie tugged Ollie towards the small opening as she crept inside, but released him to ready her pickaxe. The vines hung so thick and tangled it would be too easy for something to sneak up on her.

She used the diamond tip to part the tangled curtain and peer cautiously out into the room. The storage chamber loomed expansively, chests stacked on walls between tiny planted gardens and hanging stashes overhead. Lots of nooks and crannies for something sinister to lurk in.

"Coast clear so far," Edomie called as she crept more out into the open, eyes darting anxiously around.

LexiDriftander Of all the times Ollie had come in to check out this room, this time was decidedly the worst. He was glad Edomie had offered to go through first, but if something in the house came to get him while she was in the crawlspace—

He crouched down and followed her as closely as he could, casting paranoid glances behind him all the way.

A creeping vine tickled the back of his neck and sent him hurtling into the netherwart beds with a panicked howl.

jordan.nova Edomie shrieked and leapt out of the way when Ollie startled her by throwing himself into the netherwart. She lost her footing on the edge of the planter box and tumbled to the floor, rolling over her shoulder.

"Ollie!" she shouted in alarm, stumbling up to her feet. "What- what is it?"

LexiDriftander Ollie rolled onto his back and stared up at Edomie with wide eyes before averting his gaze elsewhere. “Vines. Uh. Scared me. Sorry.”

He caught sight of something dark blue up in the rafters and froze, his hands clenched in the dirt beneath him. Was that...?

boblins The witch scooted back as far into the shadows of the rafters as she could, watching as a tuft of blue hair suddenly poked itself though the gap in the wall. Cool. Yep. Great. The rest of Edomie slid cautiously into the room, and the Plum Witch craned her neck to see what she would do next. A sudden shriek made her jump, smacking her forehead on part of a beam as a coat fell into the abused netherwart with a resounding whump. Hissing under her breath, she watched Edomie regard the coat with concern. It made a baleful noise in response, before rolling over to reveal a rather shaken Oleander. Oh.

Far too quickly, he glanced up towards the ceiling, and she froze. To her dismay, recognition flashed across his face, and the witch grit her teeth and steeled herself for the inevitable.

jordan.nova Edomie huffed and yanked her tussled hair back out of her face as she glanced around the room. "It's okay. Spooked me, though," she said.

She hooked her arm into Ollie's elbow and gave him a gentle tug to offer help out of the netherwart planter. "Here, c'mon, get up."

LexiDriftander "Edomie," Ollie whispered, still staring at what was definitely Plum Witch in the rafters. "Look. It's Plum."

jordan.nova Edomie tilted her head up to the ceiling, staring between the hanging light fixtures and support beams. At first she didn't see what Ollie's stare was fixed so firmly on, then all at once she spotted it. The little spot of color that was Plum Witch's bright hair and brighter eyes.

"Plum!" She shouted excitedly. She released Ollie to run over and stand directly underneath the beam Plum was perched on. "We were worried something gotcha! What're you doing up there?"

boblins Well, the game was up. The Plum Witch leaned forward to get a better read on Edomie and Ollie’s upturned faces, her eyes two pinpricks of light, glinting amongst the maze of joists and beams.

“Oh hey.” She gazed down her nose at the pair of them with a tone that she hoped conveyed aloofness and mystique. “Didn’t see you there.”

LexiDriftander Ollie stood and brushed soil off of his coat. Plum's tone of voice, aloof though it was, put him on edge. She should not have been in the rafters. Why was she up there?

"Are you stuck?" He asked, desperate to say something in the presence of Plum and her eerie, glowing eyes. They may have been glowing before, but in the gloom of the rafters, the light stood out like the eyes of an enderman. A shiver tensed his shoulders.

boblins The witch threw up her arms in a show of mock helplessness. “Yeh. Oh no. What a tragedy. n o, I’m not s t u c k.” She snapped, braking this brief facade and raising an eyebrow in the boy’s direction.

“What are you two doing in here?” Never mind that she’d had absolutely no issue with the entire population using through her house as a major thoroughfare on a daily basis in the past. Shut up. “I don’t see an order form for any potions anywhere, what gives?”

jordan.nova Edomie flinched at Plum's tone, and threw an uncertain glance back at Ollie for a second.

"We were worried about you," she explained, raising her voice a bit. "We haven't seen you since - I think since that - that ender got me."

She swept her arm out and gestured to the secret passage with her pickaxe. "When you didn't answer us, and it - things are all knocked over in there - we thought maybe you were in trouble! You scared us!"

LexiDriftander Ollie averted his gaze and bit at his thumb. Words stuck to his tongue and muddled before they could exit his mouth, so all that came out was a tense sigh.

Part of him knew she was up there hiding from him, and knew she was only pretending to be unaffected by his presence. He just knew it. He took a half-step toward the crawlspace. Maybe he should just leave. Edomie was good at talking, she could talk to Plum.

boblins “Yeh. Welllll. Had stuff to do.” The Plum Witch retorted. It was technically true. She had no end of stuff to do, of rewriting every single plan she’d had for this thing. Of studying the same stacks of books, despite the contents of which being rendered completely useless since Edomie and her recent revelation. At the rate of her progress, the witch thought with a sinking heart, she’d have “stuff to do” until the end of linear time.

LexiDriftander "Sorry to bother you, Miss Plum," Ollie muttered, inching closer to the low opening every second. "We, uh, don't have to stay if you're, uh, busy."

jordan.nova Edomie gave both of them an exasperated look and blew her bangs out of her face with a frustrated huff. "If you're busy, we can help you out! C'mere, let's talk, we can't hear you all the way up there."

boblins The witch didn’t budge. “Uh, no! Thanks!” She said, sounding absolutely nowhere close to thankfulness, and proceeded to become very interested with her nails as she continued, “Something this complicated is going to be wayyy over your tiny little heads. And I need to be sure that I get every detail just right.” That was good. That was a good excuse. She should stop talking now.

“I can’t just poof out major spells over night. These things take time. S’a process, yeah?”

She needed to stop talking.

“How long? Who knows. Could take days. I could do it faster if I wasn’t being pestered constantly. It’s a highly advanced process, you wouldn’t understand-”

Stop. Talking. She hated the way her voice was getting progressively shriller as she rambled, so close to betraying the sheer panic this interrogation was producing.

jordan.nova Edomie narrowed her eyes and frowned. Wasn't the first time a witch had told her to mind her stupid, nosy business, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Plum," she snapped in an exhausted tone. Her fist clenched a little tighter around her pickaxe. "Come down here and talk to us. Is this about Kaithol? We said we would handle this together!"

boblins The witch’s voice turned icy. “Oh? Together is it? We’re handling this together, yeah? When were you going to tell us about what was in that book, huh? When were you going to share that little nugget of information with the class, since we’re ’a l l i n t h i s t o g e t h e r ?’"

LexiDriftander A gasp leapt from Ollie’s mouth. His head shot between his shoulders in a turtle-like flinch. Something cold and heavy flooded him from head to toe, curling up into a writhing ball of nausea.

The walls pressed in on him, taunting him with their lack of doors. The crawlspace suddenly seemed too small to escape through, any ladder too far away, the rungs too spaced apart. In a desperate search for something to tether himself to, he reached for Edomie’s hand, but she was too far away due to his earlier shuffling.

jordan.nova Edomie flinched at Plum's comment and staggered a reflexive step backwards. She glanced uncertainly between the two of them, and she caught sight of the way the blood had rushed from Ollie's face.

She saw his hand flinch towards her desperately. She staggered backwards to him and grabbed his hand with a firm, hard squeeze and tugged him closer to her.

"That's, uh- what we wanted to talk about!" Edomie supplied, returning her gaze to Plum. "We couldn't find you the other day. Or... any day... since then..."

boblins Plum felt a pang of guilt at Ollie’s reaction, but quickly replaced it with indignation. “Well, I’ve been right here,” she proclaimed with a sweeping gesture, wobbling slightly on her perch, “trying to study exactly what you asked me to.”

jordan.nova Edomie blinked. She tilted her head, in a quiet invitation for Plum to continue or elaborate. When she did neither, Edomie pressed, "Okayyy... So, whatcha got? We can talk about that weird book, and see what you're studying, and maybe figure something out. Yeah?"

boblins “Like I said. I had a plan.” The witch responded, levering herself up into a standing position. “At least until somebody neglected to mention that, oh, look, they didn’t suddenly stumble across Kaithol on the mountain after all. Oh look,” the witch continued, her feigned surprise giving way to something much more resentful as she paced along the beam. “You’re from like 70 years ago!”

“And oh! Look! How about that?” She gave a bark of laughter, ugly and insincere, before snapping her head towards the other two,

“We don’t actually have any idea what Kaithol is!”

LexiDriftander "I don't know either!" Ollie yelled, straining his voice to raise it above a whimper. "That's...that's the only clue I had! So I--"

He leaned into Edomie, shivering. "I have no idea who Kaithol is. I don't even know who to hope he is. But that's why-- Why I asked for help..."

Daring to look back up at Plum, he whispered, "I knew it would make you mad. That's why I hid it for so long."

boblins “Well it’s a biT FLIPPIN’ LATe now!” The witch snarled, her sharp voice reverberating across the ceiling. “I could’ve been less mad! I could’ve! If you’d just gone and told me! How do you expect me to work like this? You...” she cut herself short, inhaling shakily, “You’re asking me to fight something that I can’t even touch.” The witch swallowed with a click, throat suddenly very tight.

“I can’t fight your personal demons, Ollie, if I can’t shove my wand through their blinkin’ faces. I- I- What do you want from me?”

LexiDriftander "I didn't-- I didn't mean--"

Ollie wanted out. He didn't even want to look at them anymore.

"I didn't ask you to fix me. I know that's hopeless. But--"

What are you doing here, boy? Get back to work.

He froze. And then, very slowly, he turned his gaze to the ground and shuddered.

jordan.nova Edomie felt the delicate trembling run up her arm as Ollie shuddered. She twisted her hand out of his grasp and hooked her arm around him, squeezing him against her side. "Ollie, it's okay, it's okay," she said in a strained, hasty voice. "We'll figure something out."

She turned back to Plum with a hard stare. "Plum, you said you wanted to punch Kaithol in his face! You say that a lot! All the time! That's what we want your help with - we wanna get rid of him! So he'll quit torturing Ollie like this!"

boblins “Yeh guesswhat- whether I want to punch or not makes no difference if there’s no Kaithol to punch.” No. Bad phrasing. There was definitely a Kaithol, that wasn’t the issue here. There were only so many sudden tempests and mysterious falls you could pin on random happenstance, and the Plum Witch knew better. You didn’t just blink off the face of a mountain because oh, one time you imagined a scary voice. She tried again. “If there’s no punchable Kaithol.” Tangible? her brain supplied helpfully, about four seconds too late.

jordan.nova Edomie's eyes narrowed hard. She squeezed Ollie closer, her tense fingers digging into his arm a little.

"Yeah. It's hard. We know." She said slowly, her voice tightening. Edomie felt plenty tired and frustrated and scared herself, that she could understand. But Plum's jabs felt aimed at the wrong threat. At not a threat at all. At Ollie.

"Nobody could punch - that - you know, whatever that other curse was. Whatever sent us spooky notes, and protected monsters, and ate your portal." Edomie snapped. "But we beat that thing. So we're going to beat this, okay? Come down here already, let's try to figure out what we're dealing with."

LexiDriftander Ollie had practically gone limp in Edomie’s arms at this point, especially after the mention of the other thing they’d fought.

That was where this had all started, wasn’t it? If all of those terrible things that happened before had been because of some other thing, who exactly was Kaithol? What were his powers? If Kaithol wasn’t responsible for that, was there ever a Kaithol to begin with?

Or was it just him, hearing voices again. Just him, never knowing who to trust. Not Kaithol. Him.

boblins She despised everything about this situation. Sitting here, trapped in her own house, again, unable to remedy anything, again….only this time she was stuck in here with a boy who was two seconds away from fainting and a girl who was bent on getting to the bottom of this faster than Plum could dig.

The witch scrunched up her face in protest, but Edomie was right. There was nothing else left for her to do. “f i n e.”

She grabbed one of the cords suspending her storage chests, and slid down it in a show of acrobatics that would’ve seemed impressive if she wasn’t one, definitely about to fall off, and two, still in her pyjamas. The witch dangled precariously for a moment, feet struggling to gain purchase on the rough wood of the chest, before giving up and letting herself fall the remaining distance onto the tile below.

jordan.nova Edomie exhaled loudly, the sigh ruffling her hair again. She'd considered climbing up there to get Plum, but she was relieved she didn't have to try that. It likely wouldn't have ended well for her. "Thank you," she said, sincerely.

"Okay... let's think of what we've got. What do we know so far..." her gaze flicked around the room at the expanse of chests. She jostled Ollie a little, rubbing her hands firmly up and down both his arms. He felt like he was sleep walking. Or sleep standing, rather. "Where's - do you have a book? I can write things down."

boblins “Okay, gonna stop y’there.” Plum interjected, calling off Edomie’s little book quest before it had even begun. “First off, we’re not doin’ this in here.” She strode towards the hole in the wall, lightly nabbing Ollie by the arm of his coat in an attempt to drag the other two back through the passageway.

LexiDriftander Ollie flinched away when Plum came at him, expecting her to do more than just tug at his coat sleeve. He regarded her with wariness as she passed toward the crawlspace.

He looked back at Edomie, eyebrows raised in an is she really going to help me? Expression.

jordan.nova Edomie grinned brightly, and a surge of excitement shot through her. She nodded in reassurance to Ollie, tightening her grasp on his arms and gently steering him back towards the crawlspace. They ducked inside and followed Plum back out into the bedroom area.

boblins The Plum Witch glanced back at the statue to ensure her companions were still in tow, wincing as Oleander’s pale face emerged from behind the shrine.

He. Did not look good. He looked like a bag of frightened rabbits pretending to be a human, which, while arguably Oleander’s signature look, was definitely starting to take a toll on the shivering boy. She sighed, the feelings of irritation slowly becoming dampened by pity. “Ollie sit down before you blinkin’ crash into something.” She directed, dragging a rickety chair towards him. “No faintin’ on my floor I swear to Notch.” The witch added, looking around for something they could use as a table, and silently cursed herself for overlooking this gap in her collection of furniture.

With Oleander's pending nosedive temporarily remedied, the witch rummaged around in her kitchenette for a moment, pulling out a little painted kettle with a small hum of triumph. Seemingly distracted from the task at hand, she removed the top of one of the nearby barrels to reveal an assortment of little jars. The witch paused for a second, running her fingers contemplatively across their multicoloured lids, before picking one out and methodically ladling tea leaves from it.

LexiDriftander Ollie watched Plum with skepticism that slowly gave way to curiosity. What was she doing over there? Was she brewing a potion or something that would internally punch Kaithol out of him?

Gripping the edges of the chair Plum’d sat him in, Ollie stared on in silence.

What is taking you so long?

jordan.nova Edomie settled herself onto the floor and leaned against Ollie's chair. She knocked his arm with the top of her head and gave him a reassuring grin.

Her wide eyes followed Plum as she fussed around the tiny kitchen area, and she tried to somewhat crane her neck to see what the skilled witch was brewing up. "What's that, Plum?" she called with an excited edge. "Are you making something? Is it a potion?"

boblins The witch continued to dole heaping teaspoons of the blend into the kettle, eyebrows furrowing as she felt Edomie and Ollie’s eyes boring into her. “N- It’s not- I’m makin’ a tea…weirdo.” She muttered, tapping the spoon against the rim of the pot to rid it of any remaining leaf bits. “Potions come later. Shush. Have you eaten anything.”

LexiDriftander Ollie could have lied and said he’d eaten, but the truth was he’d hardly eaten at all since he’d...theatrically presented The Note to the other two occupants of the room.

“...no, I haven’t.” He continued to watch Plum work. The way she mixed together the leaves suggested she made tea much like she made potions—scientifically. “Um...what about you, Edomie?”

He looked down at where she’d sat next to him. He felt calmer in her presence, but he couldn’t squash a twinge of guilt at all the trouble he’d put her through.

jordan.nova Edomie shrugged at Ollie. "Yeah, I had- wait..." her eyes went down to her lap, her face scrunched in thought.

She was starting to get so mixed up. The last few sunsets felt like they had dragged on forever, but also like she blinked and they had happened all at once. "No, that was... No. Not today, no," she decided.

boblins The witch narrowed her eyes. “Really. You march into my house, have a go at the way I’m doing things-“ The witch pulled out a loaf of bread and began to saw at it aggressively, “and you haven’t even had breakfast?” A large pan was shoved onto the fire with a clang, showering sparks dangerously close to the wood floor. “Are you serious?” A few eggs landed in the pan with a resounding splat. “Are you kidding me right now-“

jordan.nova "Oh! You don't have to do all that, Plum!" Edomie said hastily. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing Ollie's arm to hoist herself off the ground, and bounded over to the kitchen. "Here, I can cook, lemme help!"

LexiDriftander Ollie jerked himself to his feet. “Sorry! Uh, here, let me help!”

boblins The Plum Witch wheeled round at her two breakfast assailants. “Oleander sit the h e c k back down! I’m not having you pass out bang in the middle of my frying pan.” She shot him a challenging look before turning back towards the hearth to check on the eggs. “Now. How many toasts can you eat?”

LexiDriftander Oleander sat back down like his life depended on it. (Did it?) He thought hard about how much toast he could reasonably eat and eyed the size of the loaf Plum was working with.

"Uh. Just one, thanks."

boblins The witch looked thoroughly unimpressed with this response, and proceeded to cut six slices of bread whilst staring directly at Oleander. “Edomie. Toasts. How many.”

jordan.nova "Four please!" Edomie chirped. She shuffled around Plum's other side, closer to the warm hearth. "Here, I can finish the eggs for you?"

LexiDriftander "Um, Miss Plum, I'm really not going to eat that many..." Ollie tried to reason.

boblins “THAT’S more like it.” Plum replied, suddenly more cheerful, adding four more slices to the bread tower and ignoring Ollie's protests. Edomie’s offer, however, was only met with an eyeroll. “NoO-uh.” She said, exasperation seeping back into her voice. “I can make eggs. Mitts off.” She slid a spatula under said eggs, whose golden yolks had reached a jammy consistency, depositing them on a plate before tipping part of the bread stack into the pan.

jordan.nova Edomie recoiled a little and made a face. She didn't doubt Plum's ability to prepare breakfast by any stretch - everything looked and smelled delicious. But she also felt like if she reached for the pan, Plum might try to bite her. Maybe not. But she might.

"Yeah, it smells awesome!" she said, honestly. Edomie folded her hands behind her back, having to physically keep them to herself, and rocked on her heels in an exaggerated sort of way. "Whaaaaaat can I do? You don't have to do everything by yourself."

LexiDriftander Ollie frowned at the increasingly large pile of bread, knowing he was about to disappoint at least Plum with his current lack of appetite. Left alone to zone out, his gaze found a particular knot of wood in the floor and stuck there, while his mind flew universes away.

What am I doing here?

boblins Plum sighed, flipping a few more pieces of bread over. “You can sit there and prepare yourself for toasts.” She said, turning her attention back to the hearth. Why couldn’t they just let her make breakfast for them? What was so hard about that? She placed the last of the slices onto the pile, before thrusting the bread mountain in all of its glory towards Edomie. “Just- put it over there or something. It’s- fine.” She waved a hand distractedly in the direction of the bookshelves, before turning back to rescue the tea.

jordan.nova Edomie accepted the teetering stack of bread with a grin and made herself scarce.

"You're so sweet to cook for us," Edomie called. She sat the platter down on a clear spot on top of one of the bookshelves, then grabbed the back of Ollie's chair and dragged it closer to the makeshift table with him still on it. "You two should visit the cottage sometime! I'll make lunch for us!"

boblins The witch grimaced at the saccharine compliment, before beginning to pour the scalding liquid into a few mismatched cups she’d retrieved from one of the shelves. Lunch....lunch sounded pretty great right now, if she was honest.

“I can’t remember what this one tastes like,” Plum admitted, peering into one of the cups. “But it’s the one with the little stars in it, so.” She started to pass it to Ollie, only to find that he’d zoned out again. She wiggled the cup precariously in front of his face in an effort to get his attention. “C’mon,” She enticed, her voice losing its edge, “everything tastes better with little stars in it.”

LexiDriftander Ollie's gaze flicked from the floor to the cup in front of his face. Oh. His chair had moved. His hands jolted away from his sides and slowed just in time to accept the cup from Plum's hands.

"Thanks."

He looked up, found the plate of toast, and remembered what he was doing here. He looked beyond the toast, found Edomie, and worked up a ghost of a smile.

Experimentally, he took a sip of the tea. He didn't have much of a preference for tea, but Plum had made it for him, and there were little stars in it.

jordan.nova Edomie hopped up to sit on the adjacent bookshelf, so she wouldn't have to bother locating a chair, and crossed her legs underneath her. She picked up a slice of toast, stuck about half of it in her mouth, then picked up another slice and offered it to Ollie. It was less an invitation, more a firm suggestion, as she extended her entire arm and came close to pushing it right in his face. She was cautious not to startle him into spilling his tea, however.

LexiDriftander Ollie's stomach protested even at the sight of food, but he figured he'd better eat, even if only to keep the other two appeased. He gingerly took the toast from Edomie, keeping one of his hands curled around the cup of tea. He bit the toast and chewed slowly.

Maybe he could make it look like he was eating. If he just took forever to eat one piece, maybe the others would finish the rest.

boblins The witch lifted a generous helping of both eggs and toast onto her plate, and eagerly bit into her creation. She leaned back against the counter, tension beginning to leech out of her body as more pressing matters were pushed to the side to make room for this. This being, Oleander and Edomie, for reasons that were beyond her, willingly sipping tea in her living room, hazy mid-morning light filtering through the cherry red vines, and the taste of really, really good eggs.

She couldn’t think of the last time she’d done anything like this. Had people over for a purpose other than haggling magical items or spelunking preparations. Or dragging someone in from another dimension, but she wasn’t going to dwell on that.

jordan.nova Edomie's eyes glanced over her companions as she took a deep gulp of tea and consequently scalded her tongue. She recovered by shoving too large portion of toast in her mouth. The fresh bread was delicious, and she hadn't realized how starving she was. Plum Pocket was somewhat of a hike from Castle Kaithol, and Edomie had forgotten to eat before their trip in her haste to meet up with Ollie as early as possible.

Lately, Edomie found herself with an increasing list of excuses to pry him out of that castle.

At least Plum seemed less frazzled and shouty while they were eating. Edomie decided to prod her momentarily, and returned her attention to Ollie. She gestured towards his hardly nibbled toast with her cup before taking a more cautious sip. "You feeling okay, Ollie?" she gently prompted. "I can't believe you're not starving."

LexiDriftander Feeling okay?

Oleander thought about it. He really thought about it. Feeling okay implied that everything was fine, and he couldn’t remember the last time everything was fine. Not ever on this world, at least.

He looked up at Edomie and the concern on her face, and then over to Plum, noticing the way she’d finally started to relax a little. He took a deep breath, forced another bite of toast, and wrenched out a smile.

“I’m okay.”

boblins Still combing through her memory, the Plum Witch absentmindedly turned towards Edomie, just in time to catch a glimpse of her cramming a gargantuan wad of bread into her mouth to soothe her burning tongue. It jerked her out of her reverie with a cackle that quickly turned into a cough as she involuntarily inhaled a mouthful of tea. She spluttered, desperately straining her ears over the sound of her own laughter and choking to make out whatever Edomie was saying to Ollie. That’s what she got for reminiscing, she thought, ruefully wiping her tea-covered face with her sleeve.

jordan.nova Plum coughing on her tea seized Edomie's attention. At least she wasn't hiding from them in the ceiling anymore, but she didn't seem very intent on cozying up in the makeshift breakfast nook either.

Satisfied Ollie was eating, she raised her voice to call out to this missing breakfast mate. "Plum, c'mon... we came all the way here to talk, at least come sit with us. We don't bite!"

LexiDriftander If any one of them were to bite, Ollie figured it would be Plum. He stole a glance at the young witch and sipped his tea. It was good, and it wasn’t just the stars.

The toast wasn’t half-bad, either.

boblins Still gasping for air as she recovered from the tea mishap, the Plum Witch scanned her immediate vicinity. Ollie was sitting on the only chair, where did Edomie want her to sit? Was it not enough for her to lean against the counter in a nonchalant manner (Sweev’s beans, she hoped it was nonchalant)? She slid to the floor, resigned, and gestured at her newly seated position. “There, y’happy?”

Bound and determined to finish the rest of her meal, the witch lifted an arm over her head and felt around the counter for her plate, gingerly lifting it down and studying her last piece of toast intently. “Hm…d’you two….know where to get jam over here?” She began, avoiding the topic at hand. She tilted her chin to get a better look at where Edomie perched on the bookshelf. “I haven’t been able to find jam in this world so I’ve been having sad, jamless toasts.”

LexiDriftander Ollie perked up a bit at that. “You’re right,” he said in between sips of tea. “I’ve never seen jam here. But then, you can’t exactly walk to the nearest grocery store and pick some up. You have to make everything yourself.”

He bit his toast contemplatively, giving in to the hunger that finally made itself known. “There are berries. Maybe we could make some.”

We. As if Plum would let him anywhere near the jam-making process.

jordan.nova Having consumed all the toast in her hand, Edomie hopped off the shelf and fetched another piece from the remaining tower. "What's a groshie store?" she asked, clambering up onto the tea barrel as her new seat. She still felt close enough to Ollie, but she didn't have to crane her head to see Plum sitting on the floor this way.

boblins “Oh yeh….the grocery store.” Plum murmured, as if remembering the remnants of a dream. Wait. “….OH YEAH THE GROCERY STORE?” She flung an accusatory finger in the direction of the poor boy. “You know what grocery stores are, don’t you!“ She paused, the full force of this new revelation hitting her like a train. “You know! The grocery store! You know what that is!”

“You…you know…because-“ She trailed off, excitement wearing off as fast as it had arrived. After her numerous attempts to steer the conversation away from anything to do with the contents of that horrid note, she was the one broaching the subject. “….You know what August is.”

LexiDriftander Ollie nodded along as the witch spoke, his expression melting from enthusiasm to confusion, and then to pure horror.

“Yeah...I know what August is,” he said guardedly. “I uh, I know all of the months. It’s January, by the way. I’ve been keeping track. It’s not October anymore.”

He glanced at Edomie, recalling how she’d said she didn’t recognize some of the words in his book. Is this what she’d meant? She didn’t know what months were?

jordan.nova Edomie glanced back and forth between the two of them, her eyes wide and brows pushed together. Ollie had turned to her at that last statement. Like he'd said something extremely important and profound. They both were acting like that.

"Wh... what's October?" She said cautiously. She knew the word, at least. Plum wrote it in her journal in front of her counting numbers. But that was the first spot she had seen it. "Is that... is that important?"

LexiDriftander Ollie, even though he'd seen the question in Edomie's eyes before it left her mouth, still had no idea how to answer her.

"It's...it's like...it's a month. Do you know what months are?"

jordan.nova Without meaning to or really being able to help it, Edomie felt her knees curl up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them and propped her chin there, trying to look like she was making herself comfortable, and not like she was uncomfortable.

It felt a little like talking to Alastair suddenly. Back when she would ask things and he would think she was stupid for not knowing. Everyone in the room knew about it, so why didn't she? What was wrong with her?

"Mmm... no..." she admitted. Her voice wobbled just the tiniest bit. She picked at a stray thread on the knees of her pants. "I don't know... what, uh... those... no."

LexiDriftander “Oh. Edomie.” Ollie’s eyebrows raised as Edomie curled in on herself. “It’s okay if you don’t know. Er, sorry, I...I’m still getting used to, uh, the whole different worlds thing.” He took a longer sip of tea and took another slice of toast.

He scooted his chair closer to Edomie. “It’s really hard to explain, but, uh, it’s pretty much a longer length of time. Most months in my old world had 30 or 31 days. They all have names, and, uh. One of them is October. There’s August, too, and a lot of others.” He stared into his tea, feeling like he wasn’t making any sense, and feeling rather like Miss Plum would laugh at him for his lack of eloquence.

boblins “Months is-“ The witch began, floundered abysmally in the grammar department, and was about to start over when she realised that, wonder of wonders, Oleander had beaten her to the punch. She blinked in stunned silence as the boy uttered the longest sentence she’d heard out of him all morning. No, no, this was definitely the same Ollie she’d been shoving tea at a minute ago. It took all of her concentration to keep her jaw from dropping when he voluntarily took another piece of toast and continued to wrestle with how to explain the concept of months. As if it was the most normal thing in the world.

She halted her scrutiny to chalk the mental toast tally she’d been keeping for Oleander up to a resounding two. It's the little victories.

jordan.nova Edomie tilted her head in Ollie's direction, listening carefully. It wasn't like talking to Alastair. Ollie's voice was very small like Alastair's, but never sharp or mean. He explained it very patiently to her, and he never asked how she hadn't known this to begin with.

"Oh, well..." Edomie's eyes searched the floor momentarily. It still sounded pretty confusing. A little like what she called moons, but she couldn't imagine what someone would want with so many of them. She decided eventually not to press it, and her bright brown eyes flicked back to Ollie with a more excited spark. "Maybe I haven't heard of where you're from at all. What was it like there? Was it amazing? You have to tell me about it."

LexiDriftander Ollie drew his arms closer to his chest clutching the tea and toast closer to his chin. Seeing the look in Edomie’s eyes, Ollie wished he could tell her it was amazing.

“Well,” he began, not even sure where to begin his explanation, “It wasn’t the best. Even...even before. All around the world, people hated each other. There was a lot of fighting, and, uh...separation. Between people.” He didn’t know how to explain his world as he’d left it. Maybe Plum would know more.

boblins “Uh...yeah of course it was amazing? you could just, go get jam?” The witch blurted out, as if it was foolish to even question such an obvious truth.

“I didn’t really do any fighting? I mean, aside from the usual.” She did not elaborate on what “the usual” was. “I was mostly in school doing....school things. Like maths, and tipping juice into Ben Stafford’s notebook because he called me a witch,” she laughed at the irony, “y’know, that kind of rubbish. And then on break I’d go home and-“ and....and....the witch scrunched up her face. What on earth did she go home and do all day? She pictured the front of her old house, concentrating on it as if it would give her some sort of answer. The house, being a house, gave none. She shook her head, deciding to interrogate the stubborn brain-house another day.

“Yeh I’ve changed my mind it was dumb and boring actually.”

LexiDriftander Ollie tilted his head in Plum’s direction, eyes narrowing slightly. “Actually...are, where are you from? Because there weren’t witches in my world.” He cleared his throat. “Well. I mean, a long while ago there was...but, ah...”

Nope, no way he was going to tell Plum about that if she didn’t already know about it.

boblins Oh. Oh no, they were not about to take that route, if the Plum Witch had anything to say about it. “I’m from Wolvercote. And- and that’s what you think. D’you think we just….um….walk around hexing people on our way to the park? Some of us have tact." She retorted, turning defensive. “What about you, I always thought you popped out of Aesops Fables or something. Where're you from?”

LexiDriftander “You think I did?” Oleander asked, trying not to let the imaginary implications cut too deep. “You’re the one who can use magic. And, um, no, I haven’t heard of Wolvercote. I’m from West Virginia. Maybe you’re from a different world entirely, and, and we just happen to have the same months.” He tugged at the sleeves of his coat. Embarrassment burned bright enough for him to feel it on his cheeks.

jordan.nova Edomie quietly sipped her tea, wide eyes flicking between the two of them as they bantered back and forth. It was getting increasingly harder to follow their vocabulary, but she felt like she was collecting the general gist of it.

"Wait, so... where you two came from... was it not like here?" she finally said. Stor'Sweev was very different than Poshi, but mostly in landmarks and population. These two were talking about things she'd never even read about. She turned to Plum, since she had a little more experience with witches than humans. "Plum, I thought you were, like, from a place witches came from. You had humans there too?"

boblins The witch’s eyes lit up. Was that….a touch of indignation in his voice? Plum leaned forward, a devious grin spread across her face. “I’m in England, silly. And you’re from…Virginia? Like America? I- This is like learning that Oliver Twist wore a cowboy hat. Oleander. Ollie. You understand how funny that is right.”

Without giving him a chance to answer, she threw back another gulp of glittering tea and turned towards a very lost Edomie. Were. Were the witches she knew not human? Truth be told, she’d never gotten close enough to other witches to be able to tell. “We’re all humans over there, mostly. There’s prolly fairies 'n elves and whatever, but if they’re there they don't want us pokin' around in their business.”

LexiDriftander Oleander shook his head incredulously as Plum began speaking. His confusion grew the longer she talked, and eventually he couldn’t hold back a “What?”

He shifted forward on his chair and stole another toast. “No, there are not fairies and elves or whatever,” he grumbled. “There’s not, Edomie. I’ve never seen anything like that in real life.” He turned back to Plum. “England? Like, across the ocean?”

jordan.nova Once again the two of them had confused Edomie infinitely more than either of them had answered her question. "Well. Don't feel bad, Ollie, I've never seen... uh, fairies'n elves either."

Edomie's eyes followed Ollie's hand to the stack of toast, and she tried to hide her smile behind her teacup. She had worried at first that he wouldn't even finish his first slice. "What do you mean 'we', Plum? Did humans live near you? Alastair and his witches were always trying to run me off - they hated having humans around. I thought all witches were like that."

boblins The witch started at Edomie as if she’d grown an extra head. “What. What are you talking about. No. I’m human.” She squinted, baffled as to why something so obvious seemed to require any stretch of the imagination, “You two know magic, why is that so weird all of a sudden?”

jordan.nova Edomie's brows pushed together. "Oh, you - wait. I thought... you were a witch?" Her hands dropped into her lap, sloshing a tiny bit of tea onto her lap. She glared at a distant spot on the floor, her lip curled into a baffled sneer. "Wait, can - can you be both? Can a witch also be human?"

LexiDriftander "I can't actually use magic, no," Ollie said. He shook his head. "I really don't think we're from the same world, Miss Plum. There's not magic in America, and as far as I could tell, there wasn't any in Europe, either."

boblins The witch gawked at her guests in disbelief. This conversation was getting nowhere. In fact, it was going backwards, something she would’ve been grateful for a good half an hour earlier. “Um yeah? Why wouldn’t I be? S’like a job, isn’it? An- and what do you mean, you’re not magical? He’s ‘not magical’.” she scoffed. So Oleander could crack a joke after all. Life was full of surprises today. “Pff, yeh. Right. Edomie, are you hearing this?”

jordan.nova Edomie startled when Plum said her name. She gave a confused frown and glanced at Ollie for help, entirely unsure what Plum expected her to say. "Uh, I haven't seen... you're the only one of us I've seen do magic, Plum. Well, maybe Sweev... but I think Sweev is just Sweev."

boblins Plum’s teasing laughter died in her throat as the penny teetered on the edge, wobbled, and finally dropped. “Wait, you’re actually not magical.” She searched Edomie’s face, it was apparent that she wasn’t joking in the slightest. “And you’re not magical. So it’s just...meee...” A considerably more nervous chuckle bubbled out of her as she trailed off. “Great. Well. Guess we couldn’t form a coven to boost our god punching chances or anything….We’d be- we’d be more of an un-coven…..an unven, heheh….if anything, so that’s off the table.”

She cleared her throat, making an effort to backtrack and stave off the sense of unease that had crept back in. “So uh. What’s this Alistair guy’s beef? Why did he tell you to clear off? Breaking and entering?” It was a halfhearted jab, and she didn’t mean it. She was more interested in the name mentioned. Alistair. She’d seen it during her discovery of Edomie’s cottage, in a journal that was, to be fair, laying out in the middle of the open. Anyone could stroll past and accidentally read a page out of it. Or two. Or twenty five.

LexiDriftander “So...you’ve been able to use magic your whole life...” Ollie murmured. He knew the conversation was past that now, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Plum was hiding something. “No...there’s no way.”

Well. Unless.

No, no. He didn’t need to go down that particular rabbit hole again. His eyes flicked lazily to Edomie, awaiting her answer.

jordan.nova Edomie's eyes went to her lap, and she pouted at her now empty teacup. "Yeah. I guess so," she muttered darkly. "He always acted like I wasn't allowed to be there, and I was ruining everything just by showing up. I didn't go there on purpose - I never mean to go anywhere."

She sighed loudly and yanked some tangled curls out of her face. "But, I dunno. He wasn't so mean after a while... We got to be... sorta... friends?" Her voice trailed away, getting steadily softer. "So... maybe he got over it... I'm... not really sure..."

LexiDriftander "He doesn't sound very friendly," Ollie observed absentmindedly. He set his empty tea cup on the barrel and went for yet another toast. Was it his fourth? He'd lost track. "Are you sure you want him, you know, here?"

He regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of his mouth. If Edomie thought this person was her friend, he didn't need to question her.

Still, something about the way she described him... didn't give him a very good impression.

boblins “You don’t sound very friendly.” The witch shot back, purely for the sake of it. “Hang on, go where? His house?” The notion that this wasn’t the first time Edomie had trespassed her way into a breakfast didn’t feel totally outside the realm of possibility, but it definitely explained some things.

jordan.nova Edomie's eyes flicked quickly between them both, suddenly extremely self conscious. She grabbed another piece of toast as well, so she could have something to do with her hands. "No, not his - well... he didn't like me to show up there either. But, uh... he didn't like me being in Poshi. The, um - that's the world I landed on before... I came here..."

Edomie tore a bit of her crust off, lost interest in eating it, and dropped it into her empty cup instead. "He's, uh... yeah, I guess he was never a very good friend..." Her shoulders sagged and she felt her lip tremble. "But, he was all I had. I miss him. And I'm... I'm worried about him..."

LexiDriftander Oleander reached out to touch Edomie on the shoulder, hoping to offer some sort of comfort. He narrowed his eyes at Plum for her comment, but didn’t engage in her jab.

“Well, if he does make it here, I don’t think he’ll have trouble finding you.”

jordan.nova Edomie managed to give Ollie a wobbly smile. "Thanks, Ollie. I... really hope so."

boblins “And if he does, he’ll wind up at the mountains. They always do.” The witch added, darkly. Who knew the reason. Aside from Aldewhat’sit being the largest landmark for miles around, nothing else about this geological marvel looked inviting. That hadn’t been enough to deter anyone, apparently, as wanderers, scholars, and adventurers flocked to start a settlement at its base. No, not flocked. Ended up there. As if they were supposed to. It was the jaws of Oleander’s monster and they’d built a town on its teeth.

Her own appetite finally sated, the witch leaned back against the counter, slouching as she gave into the post-breakfast haze. “Anyway, he’s on our turf now. We were here first, so if he’s got a problem with that, ‘e’s got another thing coming.”

LexiDriftander “Was I...the first one to go on the mountain?” Oleander asked in a quiet voice. He hid the end of his sentence behind his toast.

A sudden chill hung over his limbs, weighing him down.

jordan.nova Edomie smiled politely at Plum, assuming it was likely meant to be reassuring. She sounded like she was already prepared to fight Alastair, and Edomie certainly didn't want that.

Her heart sank, and her lip wobbled into a frown. "Thanks, Plum... but, I, uh... he wasn't anywhere around when I showed up... and I haven't seen... if - if he doesn't just show up... I don't know how - what I can -"

A sharp sob cut Edomie off, and she bit into her knuckle hard to stifle the noise. She squeezed her eyes shut so the little pinpricks of tears wouldn't roll down her cheeks. If she just didn't think about it too hard, it didn't hurt so bad. They had more important things to figure out right now anyway.

She took one more shuddering gasp and pulled it together.

"I thought it was your mountain, Ollie," Edomie said, raising her voice purposefully and turning to meet his gaze. "The Warden acted like everything up there was yours. Even - ...even the curse."

boblins Instinctually, the witch started to get up, hesitated, and started to ease back down before reconsidering her reconsideration. Trapped in a position that truly was the worst of both worlds, she aborted both decisions to face more pressing issues. This girl was crying- she was crying- they were having a perfectly nice time for a whole gleaming couple of minutes and now- What was she supposed to do with this? She didn’t know what to do with this-

“Stop-“ the Plum Witch said unhelpfully, from her un-seated position. It was almost a question, a plead more than anything. “I-“ Come on. Use words. Better words. “I- so what? The Warden talks a load of rot, and you know it! He’s too busy being high n’ mighty to know anything about Ollie’s situation.”

LexiDriftander Ollie flinched as Edomie cried, his hand sliding down her arm to cover her hand. He wasn't in the proper mental state to provide any other form of comfort, though his heart ached to see his friend so upset.

"I'm just wondering..." Oleander sighed. "If...someone else had gone inside the mountain first, would...would Kaithol have chosen them? Why did he pick me?" His voice petered out into a whisper.

jordan.nova Edomie startled a little at Plum's reaction, and she rubbed her fist against one eye to wipe stray tears away. The last thing she wanted to do was make Plum upset with her. And this wasn't about her. She came here for Ollie. "You're right, yeah. He doesn't know anything about it," she agreed with a nod. "I guess... we don't really either..."

Edomie turned her hand and grabbed onto Ollie's when she felt it lightly rest across her fingers. She stared at him very carefully, very gently. "Didn't Kaithol... ever... did he say why he picked you? Picked you for what - what does he want with you?"

LexiDriftander "He never said why he wanted me," Ollie said. He set his toast down so he could busy himself with a sip of tea.

Why did Kaithol want him? It didn't make sense. Wouldn't it be easier to believe this was all in his head? That the only danger to him was himself?

"He just wants me to build. That's all he ever wants. And, and he wants me to stay on the mountain."

boblins The witch eased herself up onto her knees, cocking her head slowly. “….What did he offer you?” She chewed on the inside of her lip contemplatively. Power was the go to, obviously. Or knowledge, but that led back into power again. Maybe it was a purpose? The chance to be a part of something big? Or maybe it was none of these things. She studied Ollie keenly, still absentmindedly worrying away at her lip. What exactly would someone like Oleander want to get out of all of this? What made this boy tick?

LexiDriftander Ollie furrowed his brow and chewed at his own lip. Was there supposed to be some kind of exchange?

"I...get to live on the mountain," he mumbled.

boblins “And?” The witch looked thoroughly unimpressed. Anyone with eyeballs could see that mountain life wasn’t doing Oleander any favours. “C’mon Ollieboy. Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

jordan.nova Edomie narrowed her eyes, brow beginning to furrow in concern. "Yeah, Ollie, he... doesn't seem very nice to you. And you're-" she hesitated, and leaned towards him to lower her voice a little, eyes darting up to the ceiling for a moment. "-you're not happy there. Or you wouldn't have asked me for help."

Something twisted in Edomie's stomach. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh. He's... you don't get anything. But you said bad things happen if... you don't..."

LexiDriftander Oleander ducked his head and averted his gaze to the little vase Plum had replaced on the Sweev Shrine. He blew out a breath and closed his eyes for a few moments. Absentmindedly, he flexed and unflexed his hand in Edomie's grip.

"....at first, I just didn't care." He swallowed, paused, and then continued. "He just told me what to do. It-- It wasn't...any different from before, and I figured, you know, I have nothing better to do here... But... then, I realized he would get angry when I didn't do things, you know, exactly right. I would have to fix them. I would have to."

His voice softened. His words melded together.

"So, I did. I just did it, without caring about it for the longest time, because I still thought, eventually, I would be going back."

boblins “Oh. So it’s a threat.” She shouldn’t’ve been surprised. “Well,” she began, getting to her feet and starting to clear away her plate. “What do we say to threats?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly towards the other two, as if they were going to recite it along with her, before answering her own question with a juvenile grin. “Things that get us into trouble with our mums.”

Going back. That’s something she was trying to do. Was…still trying to do. Wasn’t she? Wasn’t she?

She set her little pile of dishes on the counter with a decisive clack, halting that train of thought before it left the station. “Why do you have to do this? Is Big Baby up there all talk, or is he actually followin' through?”

jordan.nova "Storms," Ollie shrugged. "He...I can tell when he's unhappy. Just... I just know."

He searched the room for somewhere new to look that wasn't Edomie or Plum. How could he explain it to them? Plum, at least, didn't seem to understand.

boblins “And what’s so bad about him being angry? Good! Let him! Let him stew! See where that gets him.”

Wait. Maybe there was something there.

“Think.” She said eagerly, “Use that little brain of yours that I know you have.” She continued to grin, but there was no hint of a joke left in it. It was a challenge. “Why is he so angry when you stop working. When you stop thinking about him. If he’s so sure he’s got you, why does he throw tantrums and storms all over the place the second you’re not playing his game? Maybe he’s scared,” the Plum Witch stopped to take a much needed gulp of air. “Maybe he’s scared, because that’s all he can do: storm.”

She fixed the boy with a piercing gaze, trying to pry out that side of him she’d been so delighted with earlier. “You, Oleander, can outlast a storm.”

jordan.nova "Yeah - yeah!" Edomie cheered, suddenly excited by plums energy. She gripped Ollie's hand a little harder, shaking his arm excitedly. "Ollie, you've dealt with SO much worse than a bad storm. He can't keep you up there forever. Maybe he knows that."

LexiDriftander A flicker of that spark lit Oleander's eyes for the briefest moment. Then it burned out again as he sighed the fire away.

"That's your plan, Miss Plum? I just deal with it?"

Just deal with it. Don't talk about it. Pretend it isn't there. It's easy, isn't it?

He actually scoffed. "Like I haven't heard that before."

jordan.nova Edomie's eyes narrowed at him. "NO, Ollie -" she suddenly snapped. "She's saying you don't have to deal with it. If you just - if you just leave he couldn't STOP you! What's- I mean- what's he gonna do? Come down off the mountain and get you?"

She doubted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She knew better than that. She had already paid for mistaking what powerful, controlling order-keepers were capable of doing when they started to feel betrayed and vengeful.

Edomie looked to Plum for help, her gaze almost desperate. "Right? We've fought... worse has come after us than Kaithol. We can handle him. Right?"

boblins “Um right? Thank you?” The witch agreed, matching Edomie’s irritation. “Not- ’you just deal with it’!” She said in a poor imitation of Ollie’s voice, rapping a teaspoon on the counter for good measure. “Did you not hear a single word I said? Look-” the spoon was obstinately jabbed towards the mountain. “‘Just deal with it’ is marching back up there and doing as you’re told. ‘Just deal with it’ is stacking blackstone in frozen sleet halfway up a cliff while this high and mighty thundercloud screams at you from a mystical deckchair!“

“I say we leave him to deal with it. Leave him to crumble in his own miserable tower. If he’s going to have a problem, he’ll have to go n’have it on our terms.”

LexiDriftander Oleander let go of Edomie’s hand and stood up with such force that his chair tipped over backwards. He fixed the two of them with a desperate glare.

“He doesn’t have to come down from the mountain! He won’t crumble in his tower!” He jabbed a finger at his own head. “He’s in my head! He comes with me wherever I go! It doesn’t matter how far away I run, it doesn’t matter how long I wait, he is always. With me.”

His hand fell limp at his side. He took a step to the side, giving himself some space.

“I will have to deal with him. Wherever I go, I will have to deal with him.”

boblins The spoon clattered to the floor as Plum rose to meet him, taking two forceful steps in his direction. “Then make him pay. Make him feel as trapped with you as you are with him.” She hissed through her teeth, face twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. “Make him pay and thrive.”

jordan.nova Edomie jumped to her feet as well, half to join Plum and half to put herself between the witch and Ollie. She felt a little like Plum was one flash of rage from just jumping on Ollie. Her hand reached towards Ollie, braced like she might need to catch him, but she didn't grab for him.

"Okay, okay wait. Ollie, you said he chose you. Cause you went up the mountain first." Edomie babbled quickly, mentally counting the moments she had to reason before one of them exploded. "Something had to happen to get him in your head. Maybe we can push him back out."

Edomie's gaze flicked to Plum with a nod of confirmation. "Plum's right. We'll make him pay. He's not gonna get away with how he's hurting you."

LexiDriftander Oleander gritted his teeth, overwhelmed and on the verge of collapse. It was all too familiar to him, and the urge to give up tugged at his limbs like thick swamp water. He wobbled and sat back down, his meager fire already out of fuel.

“I want to. I want to fight him.” He pinched the fabric of his sleeves and pulled at the cuffs. “But it feels so much...So much like before. They’d always ask, you know, ‘where’d the voices come from?’ ‘When did it start?’ ‘What caused them?’ But I don’t know. I didn’t have an answer then, and I don’t have one now.”

“The...the truth is...” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching his shoulders. “I don’t even remember when he started to talk to me. It’s already hard to tell which thoughts are my own. When I first arrived here, I didn’t care about...well, anything. Kaithol could have been speaking to me from the very beginning. I don’t remember. There was no spectacle. No ritual. No revelation. He just. Was there. Like the others.”

boblins “And? Nobody knew anything the Prologue, and we- we tore its sorry plans a p a r t.” The witch’s eyes glinted with something….fond, as if she was reminiscing on golden days gone by and not baby’s first apocalypse. She snapped out of it, tilting herself to the side to get on the same level as the stooped Oleander.

“What if you don’t need an answer to fight, Ollie. It doesn’t matter if you’ve got one voice or a hundred voices that you can’t give dates and times for. It matters that we’ve got them here, now.” She leaned in a little further, chuckling darkly as she spoke.

“And I can guarantee I can shout louder than em.”

LexiDriftander Oleander tried and failed to hide a snicker at Plum’s statement. He had no doubt Plum could shout louder than Kaithol.

At that thought, a thin smile pulled at his lips. The Plum Witch, who spent her days studying magic and powers far beyond his comprehension, who dodged questions about herself like an enderman evading an arrow, who’d hid in the rafters to avoid talking to him this morning, was offering to help him fight his ‘personal demons.’ The very same demons she’d claimed to have no hold over.

She’d offered him tea. She’d forced him to eat toast (very good toast, in fact). She’d spent the last five minutes convincing him his situation wasn’t hopeless.

The Plum Witch.

He met her green-glinted gaze and couldn’t hold himself back. Following an overwhelming urge, and definitely against his better judgement, he stood and gently wrapped his arms around Plum, enclosing her in a loose embrace.

“...thank you.”

He had friends now. He had people who could help him fight, who could encourage him. They talked to him about it, instead of telling him to hide it.

For Edomie and Plum, Ollie could not have been more grateful.

jordan.nova Ollie's thin, genuine smile made Edomie's heart flutter. When he stood up and had the nerve - the nerve - to hug The Plum Witch of all people, Edomie couldn't help a little excited squeal that slipped out of her.

She bounced in place, then she couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around both of them, squeezing her friends in the tightest hug she could.

Edomie couldn't come up with any words. Not any real ones, anyway - just an ecstatic squealing sound that bubbled up out of her again and got buried in Ollie's shoulder when she pressed her face close to him. For the first time, she felt less anxious about what they were supposed to do to help Ollie, much less how they were going to do it.

Plum sparked something like hope in him, and she riled it up in Edomie too. They could do this. They were going to be okay.

boblins Whatever the Plum Witch was about to say next died on her lips as two arms circled around her. She went rigid, all pending strategies, all brazen challenges gone in an instant as her heartbeat pounded dully in her ears. The witch swallowed thickly, stubbornly trying to keep her knees from buckling as a second pair of arms joined the first.

She was shaking. Why was she shaking. Stop it. Stopit now. But she wouldn’t, she just stood there in a stupid tangle of limbs and shook and shook and shook. She dug her teeth fiercely into her lip in an effort to stop a slew of pitiful little sounds from slipping past her throat. And clutched desperately back at Oleander’s boney arms as her vision turned wet and blurry.

Thanking her lucky stars for Edomie’s much firmer grip holding her upright, she opened her mouth to acknowledge Ollie’s own gratitude with a watery click, “Shut up.”

LexiDriftander Ollie sputtered with laughter when Edomie joined the hug, but fell silent when he noticed how Plum was shaking. He loosened his grip further, afraid he’d hurt her somehow. But then she latched onto him like she was struggling to stand upright, and he pulled her a little closer to keep her from falling over.

Wait...was she crying?

“M...miss Plum? Are you okay?”

boblins Plum said nothing, too focused on steadily forcing breaths through her nose, too focused on everything suddenly being far too close and far too tight and gripping onto the claustrophobia and holding it as tight as she possibly could. An unhinged kind of security, she thought, vaguely questioning the familiarity of that statement.

jordan.nova At Ollie's question, at the edge of concern for the witch in his voice, Edomie shifted so she could nudge Plum's shoulder with her forehead.

"I knew you'd be perfect to help, Plum," she said, in a way she hoped sounded half as grateful as she felt. "I told Ollie you'd help us. You're great, Plum, really, you're so great."

boblins “Okayokay that’s enough you wet blankets, geddoff.” The witch croaked wetly, shoving Edomie’s forehead off of her shoulder with a clammy hand, and attempting to worm her way out of the pile. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, thankful that her constant flow of “tears” masked the appearance of any real ones.

LexiDriftander Oleander released Plum as soon as she started making her escape. He didn't stare at her, and he pretended like everything was fine, as he often did with Plum. He sat down in the chair again and offered a smile.

"Thanks for breakfast, Miss Plum. And, and thank you, both of you, for offering to help me. I...I feel much better knowing I'm not doing this alone."

jordan.nova Edomie wobbled on her heels when Plum pushed her away, but she allowed the two to untangle from her.

She grinned down at Ollie. "Of course, Ollie! Whatever you need. We're a -" she paused, and her grin took on an absurd giddiness to it. "...team. We're a team now."

Edomie tried to shake off her daze and beamed at Plum. "Oh- yeah! Thanks for breakfast! Like I said, I'll pay you back with lunch at the cottage sometime."

boblins The witch rolled her eyes to the ceiling, the onslaught of sentimental pleasantries pulling her out of whatever that moment was. “Yeh, yeh, whatever y’babies.” She retorted with a softer smile, no real malice behind her grumbling. “Now get out of my house.”

#cursedlore #mineblr #minecraft smp #oleander (ollie)#edomie #the plum witch #kaithol #trauma kids #plum pocket #s2 the end #roleplays #minecraft

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Note

Hi! Would you mind doing something with Elliot, smutty moment while the reader is trying to work from home from his apartment borrows his sweatshirt but things just get carried away? Thank you in advance!!

Elliot’s eyes flicked to the clock on his computer screen for the hundredth time.

When you had shown up last night, close to tears because the power was going to be out all morning in your neighborhood and you had a career defining Skype meeting at exactly 8:15 am, Elliot listened carefully before pulling the most normal response he could from his repertoire.

“Uh, you can spend the night and just work from my place. If you want.”

Your exclamation was difficult to interpret until you looked into Elliot’s eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you! I was hoping you would say that. Well, that or that you would hack the city’s electric grid just for me!” you teased, not at all paying attention to the way Elliot balked at your response.

“That’s illegal,” he replied in his typical monotone.

You giggled and lightly smacked his upper arm.

“I’m teasing! You’re good with your computers, but I don’t think anyone is that good,” you said, your face still full of laughter. “Otherwise, you would have hacked the lottery already and at least moved uptown.”

Elliot smiled nervously, which wasn’t all that different from the way he usually smiled.

“You know I don’t care about money.”

“I do—otherwise I wouldn’t be here, panicking about missing this meeting tomorrow. If it goes well, I’ll shoot to the top of the list for a promotion.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’re already doing more than enough. I appreciate this. Just leave some room in your calendar for a celebratory dinner. I’ll let ya get gussied up, darlin’ and I’ll take ya somewheres fancy,” you said in a silly accent, making Elliot smile his sweet, three-point grin.

When it was time for bed, he insisted on taking the couch. You equally insisted there was room for two in his bed until you saw the look of horror on his face, then backed off.

“You’re a great friend, El,” you called softly through the dark apartment before you snuggled deep into his bedding, enjoying being all wrapped up in his scent.

Elliot fell asleep with a soft smile on his face, no more than a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

* * * * *

When you woke up to an Elliot with a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets sliding from his wet hair down the muscles of his back, digging through his closet, you bit your lip to stifle a gasp. It was clear he thought you were asleep and as he padded back into the bathroom to get dressed, you had to fight to ignore the tingling sensation between your thighs.

Elliot was attractive, and it was impossible not to wonder if there would ever be more to your relationship. With guys less complicated than him, there would have already been something more. But Elliot had only ever made it clear he was interested in your friendship. Never had he indicated there was anything more he wanted.

Ignoring the desire to slide your fingers discreetly between your legs, knowing it would be very, very wrong to get yourself off in your friend’s bed after he was kind enough to sacrifice his privacy for you, you looked at your phone and shot up, not realizing you had already hit the snooze button . . . twice.

You were so busy getting yourself presentable from the waist up in record time that you barely heard Elliot say goodbye as he left for work. Your eyes flicked in the direction of his voice and you gave him a nanosecond of a wave goodbye.

Elliot shook his head as he shut the door, then smiled as he locked you in.

All day, he thought about you sitting in his bed, the contents of your makeup bag everywhere, your hair pulled into a presentable ballerina bun, your bare legs that looked so soft and shiny in the dim light of his apartment poking out as you braced yourself on the floor, and he wondered what it would be like to touch you, to feel his fingertips ghost over your shin before sliding up—

“Night, Elliot,” Angela called before Ollie ushered her out of the door.

Elliot blinked and looked at the clock again.

5:04 pm.

He gathered up his things and scrambled out the door to catch the train home, deep in thought.

Meanwhile, your meeting had gone perfectly, and you had gotten a lot of work done. The only hitch in your whole day was the fact that it was freezing in Elliot’s apartment. You fiddled with the thermostat and kicked at the radiator like you had seem him do, but nothing happened.

Eyeing his favorite piece of clothing warily, you figured that as long as you didn’t get it dirty or manage to tear a hole in it, he wouldn’t mind. You laughed a little as you nestled into it, realizing it was snug across the chest.

You thought back to Elliot’s towel-clad body and realized his lean muscles were deceiving; he really was a skinny thing.

Snuggled back under the covers, you had switched to working on your laptop and were just about to go through your last round of emails for the day when the keys sounded in Elliot’s door.

His eyes found you instantly, and you couldn’t tell if it was relief or disappointment that crossed his features.

That was until he took a few steps into the apartment and his brow furrowed.

“Is . . . is that my hoodie?”

“I hope you don’t mind. It’s absolutely freezing in here.”

Instead of moving toward the radiator, Elliot stepped closer to the bed where you were situated, giving no inclination that he had even heard you.

His eyes seemed to be memorizing you as they scanned over every inch of your existence until you cleared your throat and sat up, reaching for the zipper at the base of your throat.

“I’ll just, uh, put this back—”

“No,” Elliot growled in a tone you had never heard before and one that made you go completely still.

He blinked and stepped back, realizing he had done something wrong.

“Leave it on . . . I mean.”

Slowly, your hands fell away from the zipper. You shut your laptop without looking away from his intense gaze and moved it to a spot on the floor beside his mattress.

“Is there . . . anything . . . else you’d like me to do?” you said slowly, figuring now was as good of a time as any to test the new way Elliot was looking at you.

He licked his lips, and shrugged out of his backpack, letting it fall to the floor with a clunk.

“Stand up.”

You took a breath and pushed the blankets from your hips, giving you enough room to step out of the bed. You hadn’t changed out of your sleep shorts, not really seeing a reason to since your meeting was only from the waist up.

Elliot’s eyes ran slowly over your body, once. Twice.

You felt self-conscious and reached up to smooth your hair, then for lack of anything else to do with them, you slid your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, your right hand connecting with his lighter.

You watched as Elliot swallowed before taking a few more steps toward you, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Take . . . will you, I mean,” he said shaking his head and starting again. “Will you take off your shorts?”

Ohhh, your mind and body thought at the same time.

“Uh huh,” you answered, pulling your hands from his hoodie pockets and working to untie the drawstring on your shorts before hooking your thumbs in at the hips and pulling them down. It hadn’t occurred to you to care what kind of underwear you were wearing, so now all you could do was pray they were cute.

Elliot’s hoodie stopped right below your hips and the slightest movement would let him know what they looked like, so you stayed still, waiting to see what he would do next.

He cocked his head to the side, slightly, as his eyes swept over your bare legs. When he looked up at you, he smirked.

“Looks good on you.”

Christ.

You crossed the room and grabbed him by the Allsafe badge he hadn’t even taken off yet and pulled him in for a kiss. He chuckled against your lips, probably from nerves, but that didn’t stop you and eventually he got the point, bringing his hands up to pull your hips against his.

You licked at his lower lip, and he parted his mouth in a sigh, letting you stick your tongue in before he started kissing you back. He was so warm, and everything about him felt so good.

When you felt his hands clutch at your ass, you made a noise of appreciation before closing the kiss to look him in the eye. It took him a moment to open his lids, and when he did, you admired the way the undiscernible color of his irises darkened.

“Does this mean you wanna be more than friends? I’m not really a one-off kinda gal.”

Elliot’s lips twitched up in a quick, shy smile.

“I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

“My panties are soaked, El. From a fucking kiss. I think you’re pretty good at it.”

Elliot laughed and pressed his forehead to yours.

“No . . . I can do that part pretty okay. I mean the more than friends part.”

“Like a relationship?”

“Yeah. That’s not, uh, my forte.”

“No, shit,” you said laughing and moving back to look at him.

His eyes were the happiest you had ever seen them, so you pressed on.

“We can take this very, very slow.”

Elliot nodded, then his brows contracted.

“Uh, how slow . . . because . . .” he said, as he adjusted himself under his dress pants.

You narrowed your eyes and thought for a moment.

“What brought on this . . . shift?” you asked, reaching out to lightly run your fingers over his bulge.

Elliot swallowed, then explained, “Seeing you in my bed this morning. You’re pretty when you’re chaotic,” he said with a slight smile, and you laughed.

“Is that all?”

“I couldn’t stop . . . couldn’t stop thinking about your legs in those little shorts. I kept thinking about what it would feel like to touch them. They look so soft.”

“Let’s start with that, then,” you said, pulling him toward the bed. “Sit.”

He sat with a little bounce, then looked expectantly up at you.

Moving so that you were standing between his legs, you looked down and softly said, “Touch me.”

Elliot’s lips parted as his eyes immediately turned to your bare legs.

He reached both hands out and placed them on top of your thighs before moving them slightly up, then circling them around to the back. His fingertips were just below the cheeks of your ass, but he slid his hands back down—past your knees and down your calves before he shifted to the front and ran his hands all the way up to where he had begun.

You reached out to steady yourself on his shoulders, shocked that such a simple touch was leaving you literally weak in the knees.

“Is, uh . . . this okay,” Elliot asked, his fingertips flexing up and down on your thighs as he paused to check your facial expression.

“I think I need to lie down,” you said with a smile.

He smiled back, and for the first time today, you felt warm, despite the loss of your shorts and his blankets.

Maneuvering onto the bed, you laid back against his pillows, bent your knees for a little leverage, and parted your legs, inviting him to get close enough to keep touching you.

Elliot kicked off his shoes and climbed onto his knees, sitting back on his haunches as he wiggled into a position between your feet.

This time, he started there, stroking the tops of your feet before sliding up and down your legs, gently kneading your calf muscles and your thigh muscles when he felt inclined to change up the pressure of his touch.

“Elliot,” you breathed, your eyes closed and your body’s heat continuing to climb.

Elliot removed his hands from your legs and shifted his position so he could lay on top of you. He kissed you this time, his lips moving slowly, occasionally pressing harder or softer, in a perfect echo of the way he had been touching your legs. When his tongue dipped into your mouth, you bucked up into his hips, your center connecting with his hard cock.

He groaned, and it was the hottest sound you had ever heard.

“Can—” you panted from under his kiss. “Can I touch you?”

Elliot moved your hand directly to his dick and pressed hard, and normally, you would have laughed at his eagerness, but you were a mess beneath him.

Making quick work of his trouser fastenings, you pushed open his pants and slid your hand into his boxer-briefs and grasped his hard cock.

He groaned again, making you shiver with need.

“Can you touch me, too?” you all but begged.

Elliot immediately reached between your legs and pushed your panties to the side, fumbling through your wetness, clearly not expecting that you really meant it when you said you were soaked from that first kiss.

He did chuckle against your mouth this time, and you joined him.

“Toldja,” you said with a smirk as you started jerking him off.

Elliot’s hips were pushing into your hand, and yours were pushing into his. He slid around your pussy for a few seconds before making a beeline for your clit, your need to get off too evident to entertain any exploration tonight.

Elliot’s fingers were skilled, and he quickly brought you to an orgasm by rubbing sharp, consistent circles over your aching clit with his thumb. Your pumps of his cock faltered as you let yourself go, but then you quickly doubled your efforts, wanting nothing more than to watch his face while he came.

“Y/N,” Elliot hissed, as he bucked into your hand, his cum spilling over your palm and coating it quickly as you continued to stroke him through his orgasm.

His elbows shook and he rolled off of you, onto his back. He was breathing heavy and his cheeks were tinged pink, his lips still glossy and swollen from all of your kissing.

“Wow,” he breathed out.

“I agree.”

Elliot looked over at you and smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his eyes.

“I’m glad your power went out. And glad my heat broke today, too”

You turned your head up to the ceiling and laughed, tugging the zipper down on Elliot’s hoodie to let your too-hot body cool down.

“What a series of fortunate events,” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead.

#Elliot alderson #Elliot Alderson x reader #female reader #Elliot Alderson smut #Rami Malek smut #thirsty thursday #still working my way through the requests #gosh y'all are thirsty and I LOVE it #thirst team #woo

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ficdump101 · 4 years

Text

PEACHES

ALFIE SOLOMANS

WORDS: 2655

REQUESTED? YES BY @dreamescapeswriting

A/N: I TRIED AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, HONESTLY I DON’T KNOW IT IS WHAT YOU WANTED BUT HEYHO :) THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST, ILYSM <3

“Alfie… why am I here?” These were the first words that came out your mouth as you entered your boyfriend’s office with Ollie in tow. You had been phoned by Alfie half an hour ago, where he requested you to come by the bakery for a serious meeting. The only person you could think of was if the person was a Shelby or a Lee since Kimber was dead and Sabini wouldn’t be caught dead having a civil discussion with Alfie. You knew what Alfie did, you knew how the business was ran but you also knew there were some things being kept from you; you didn’t push and question to know what was happening, but what you did know is that it had something to do with Arthur Shelby and Billy Kitchen (who now happened to be dead). Whilst Ollie was Alfie’s right hand man, you were the play maker. You helped Alfie with near enough all aspects of the business; keeping the books, exporting, making the rum and recruiting new people to work. Now you think about, you had more involvement in this than you original thought, which obviously means that you’re waltzing around London with a target on your back. Wonderful.

“Shalom Peaches, come sit yeah? Want you here when Thomas comes, right, need at least one level head in the room.” You let out a small laugh, sitting on the chair at Alfie’s side of the desk. He carried on writing, placing his large hand on your thigh and squeezing lightly. You took in his side profile; his muscley arm, covered in his usual off white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. His broad shoulders stretched the material of his shirt under his black waist coat. His neck covered by the thick, unkempt beard he supported. His straight nose supporting his golden half-moon glasses that hung on a chain. You had always stated that he look particularly cute with these on but he would always swat you away stating that he is one of the ‘most feared gangsters in London’. His gorgeous brown eyes were shaded by his usual black hat, no surprise there. You were brought out of your intense observation by the door opening, revealing Ollie and a shorter man with blue eyes (the same colour as the froth on the sea down by the cliffs) who shut the door behind him. Then again, everyone was shorter than Ollie the lanky fucker. The man introduced himself as Thomas Shelby of Shelby Brothers Limited in Birmingham, shaking Alfie’s hand and nodding towards you. Alfie explained that Ollie would stay to be witness to the exchange as his right hand man and you were his trusted assistant, however, from the look on Thomas’ face, you could tell he knew better. Alfie kicked his feet up on the desk as he read through the newspaper and the phone began to ring, to no one but yours surprise.

“That’ll probably be for you, wont it.” His gruff voice spoke out, he pointed his pen towards the phone on his desk without lifting his eyes from the newspaper. Thomas waited a moment, before using his hands to push off his knees into a stand. He picked up the phone and spoke few words.

“Hello… Arthur… You out?” He didn’t say goodbye to Arthur, as he placed the phone back on its hook, before dropped back into his seat; you knew Arthur had been arrested but you didn’t know why exactly.

“Right, so that’ll be your side of the street swept up wont it.” Alfie stopped for a second, moving his feet off the table to underneath, throwing the newspaper in his hands onto the table. He folded his hands together,

“Where’s mine? What ‘ave you got for me?” You began to block out the conversation as you went through the books, making sure all the incomes and outcomes matched. You were flipping through last weeks and this week’s income working out the difference in profit as you saw Ollie pull his gun out from beside you. Your eyes shot up to him, wide open but not in shock, in confusion as you had no idea why he needs to whip his gun out.

“Ollie. No, no, no. No. Put that down, he understands. He understands. He’s a big boy, he knows the road. Now look. Its just non-fucking negotiable. That’s all you needs to know. So all you have to do,” You let go of Ollie’s arm and leant over the desk, “Is sign the fucking contract.” You tapped your pointed finger on the dotted line, making eye contact with Mr. Shelby. “Right there, Mr Shelby.” Tommy muttered a small just sign it, keeping his eyes on you and rubbed his chin lightly.

“With ya pen.” You urged, tapping your finger against the contract again before leaning back in your seat; Alfie move his hand under the table for a second, squeezing your knee in thanks. You could feel the tension increase ten fold in the room as Thomas replied,

“Well, I have an associate waiting for me at the door. I know that he looks like a choir boy, but he’s actually an anarchist from Kentish Town.” He kept his unbothered façade, but you could see in his eyes that he was up to something. You didn’t like where this was going. Alfie leant back in his chair, keeping his hands on the desk as he did so.

“Tommy. I’m gonna fucking shoot you, all right?” Alfie spoke up, wanting the what was suppose to be a quite simple meeting to be done. It was quite for a moment until Thomas spoke up again,

“Now, when I came in here, Mr. Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoe lace. Isn’t that a fact, Ollie? I stopped to tie my shoelace and while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade under one of your barrels. Mark 15 with wire trip and my friend upstairs…Well, he’s like one of those anarchist that, uh, they blew up Wall Street, you know? He’s a professional and he’s in charge of the wire if I don’t walk out that door by the stroke of seven, he’s going to trigger the grenade and your very combustible rum will blow us all to hell and I don’t care because I’m already dead.” Your heart fell into the pits of your stomach as you swallowed. You took pride in the fact that you were afraid of so little, but right now, you had never been more scared. He was a Shelby, they cut people’s tongues out, they blinded people, they set fire to houses and they killed people; they could do exactly as he said if they so wanted to.You began to regret not seeing your mother and father last week, you wished that you had spent the night at your brother’s house the other day, and you wished that you had told your sister you loved her after speaking on the phone to her this morning. This much was simple, you didn’t want to die; you wanted to walk away from this with a deal with Shelby Limited and go back to your home where Cyril would be sat waiting. You wanted to go home and sit on the couch to relax before making dinner for yourself and Alfie. You wanted to climb into bed after a long, hot bath and cuddle up to the man who you’d willingly take a bullet for. You did not want to die. For the second time in that meeting, you zoned out, questioning and regretting small decisions you had made in your life. You glanced at Alfie with realisation, you would follow him to the ends of the Earth without question. You loved him… you wanted to start a family with him. You wanted to marry him. He was the only man you thought about, when you were out with your friends and men would try to entice you, you would compare them to Alfie. You loved how he treated you, he - in short- treated you like a princess. Anything you needed, he helped you get and he was always there for you no matter what. He was soft with you, he’d once stated that he’d rather be shot dead than raise his voice and argue with you; that wasn’t his style anyway, you two would just talk whatever the problem was over like adults… before you’d do something childish like the one time you threw flour at him when he was confessing his love for you after a serious talk. Alfie stood up abruptly, your head shot up to him and he pushed your chair back to the wall, smacking Ollie over the back of the head before grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“You’re behaving like a fucking child. This is a man’s world.” He shoved him. “Now take that apron off, and sit in the corner like a little boy. Fuck off. Now.” Alfie growled at him pushing and pointing towards the lone chair in the back corner of the room. You gave Ollie a sad smile as he plonked himself on the old chair, making a mental note to talk to him later and try and get Alfie to give him somewhat of an apology. You boyfriend came back and sat in the chair next to you, you pushed yourself closer to the desk and held his hand his for comfort. He squeezed tightly, knowing what you wanted. He checked the time before turning back to Thomas, after he confirmed that there was 4 minutes left.

“Right, four minutes. Talk to me about hand grenades.” His right hand moved to stroke his beard in thought.

“The chalk mark on the barrel at knee height said Hamilton, Christmas. I took out the pin and put it on the wire.” Thomas took the grenades pin out of his pocket, before throwing it into the empty whiskey glass. You leant over and picked it up, looking at it intensely. You thoughts were rolling over in your head. Alfie stated that instead of 65, 45 percent was what he wanted based on the possible grenade. Thomas quickly shot that down with a quick ‘30’.

“Oh, fuck off Tommy! That’s far too little.” You finally found your voice again, tossing the pin back to Thomas. He leant forward slightly,

“In France, Miss. (Y/N), when I was a tunneller, a clay kicker, 1-7-9…I blew up Schwaben Hohe. Same kit I’m using today.” He sat back, wiggling the pin in his hand. You face dropped. You're brother was in the 179 but he didn’t make it home after the tunnel collapsed. No one made it home after the tunnel collapsed.

“That’s funny, that.” Alfie started, letting go of your hand and placing both on the table in front of him. “I do know the 1-7-9, and I heard they all got buried.” He gave you a glance, knowing that it was a sensitive subject for you. You and your brother had been extremely close, he protected you growing up and you helped look after his child when he went to war. You remember the first time you told Alfie about it, you had broken down and demolished half a bottle of his ‘white bread’ as he held you through it.

“Three of us dug ourselves out.” Shelby stated, before focusing his gaze on you solemn face. “I’m sorry I could get to Private (Y/L/N) in time, but we tried. He was a good man, he’d never shut about you or James. He loved you to pieces, always said when he got back he’d give you the world.” You knew he was a smart man, he could piece together exactly who you were. You responded after your breath hitched at the back of your throat and tears danced across your waterline,

“Are you digging yourself out now?” You spoke quietly, your question hanging in the air.

“Like I’m digging now.” His response made you drop your stare that you were keeping between the two of you. Alfie moved slightly beside you, muttering a quiet ‘fuck me’,

“Listen. I’ll give you 35 percent. That’s your lot.”

“Thirty five.” Thomas repeated, standing up with your boyfriend in tow. They spat on their hands and shook on the deal. At least there’s a deal, not the original one but there’s still more profit. After the whole ordeal, you made you way home, telling Alfie at least 7 times that you were perfectly fine but Cyril was on his own; so with a quick kiss and a loving smile you were on your way. It had come round to 8 o’clock quite quickly, you distracted yourself by cleaning the whole house, bathing Cyril and baking an apple pie for you and Alfie to enjoy after dinner. You did have time to think over the meeting and drew up a conclusion; he was bluffing. A mark 1 grenade was used in the war which made it easy for people like Mr Selby to get their hands on, but it would have been spotted by one of the 8 men who was working around the Hamilton, Christmas barrel - it was regulation to check the floors of where they’re working, and the rules of the bakery were followed strictly. Very strictly. As you were stood preparing the beef stew, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and a bristly beard rub against the nape of your neck. You let out a chuckle putting the wooden spoon down and turning towards your lover, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you close.

“You know, you handed that right good, yeah, I’m proud of you. My smart and precious little peach.” You could tell he felt bad for putting you in that situation, but it was over now so you tugged him towards you and kissed him. Just like you wanted to through that whole meet. Breaths mingled together whilst hands grouped and gripped clothing and skin a like to keep each other grounded. Teeth clashed as your opened your mouths in the quickly heated, wet kiss. Pulling away you whispered ‘I love you’, staring at him like he had hung the stars in the sky. He smiled, mumbling it back before moving to sit at the table.

“You know,” You began as you plated up the stew. “Tommy was bluffing. There are 8 men working around that barrel from the beginning to the end of their shifts and a rule is to check the floors constantly for spillages and leaks. They would’ve seen something, especially a grenade.” You placed his plate in front of him as he sat frozen for a moment.

“You fucking what?”

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raywritesthings · 3 years

Text

I Want

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Sara Lance, Tommy Merlyn, Raisa, Quentin Lance Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (pre-relationship/childhood crush) Summary: Young Ollie gets a change in perspective when he overhears a girl named Laurel's wish list to Santa Claus. *Can also be read on AO3, link is in bio*

Oliver bounced on the balls of his feet, trying not to look too impatient. Good kids probably weren’t impatient, after all. But he was so close to getting to tell Santa what he wanted!

Every year, either Raisa or Mrs. Merlyn took him and Tommy to the mall to read Santa Claus their Christmas lists. This year, it was Raisa accompanying them. She stood to the side by all the other parents, smiling when Oliver caught her eye. He gave a little wave, then refocused his attention on the line. There was one girl ahead of him and another in Santa’s lap who was reciting her list off the top of her head. And it was a long one.

“I want a new dolly, too. The arm came off my last one. And I wanna pet. Like a shark or something cool. We went to the aquarium this year, and I got a stuffed toy, but it’s not the same as a real one.”

Santa laughed but Oliver wanted to groan. Could she hurry up already!

“And,” the girl added, “I want my own room. My sister, Laurel, she stays up reading and it keeps me up. That’s naughty, right Santa?”

“Sara!” The girl ahead of him in line shouted. She had blond hair like her sister, but there were some darker shades mixed in that were almost brown. It was a pretty blend of colors, Oliver thought to himself, watching the back of her head.

“Honey,” a man with bedraggled hair cautioned the girl in line, who tucked her head in and fell silent.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do, young lady,” Santa said. “Now then, how about a nice big smile?” They took the picture, and the girl named Sara hopped off Santa’s lap and ran immediately for the little train ride set up not too far away.

The second girl went up to Santa. Oliver thought she was probably about his and Tommy’s age, but he’d never met her. Laurel was lifted onto Santa’s lap and got an actual list out of her coat pocket.

“Now, you must be Laurel,” Santa said. “And I’m sure you and your sister have both been good girls this year. What would you like to ask me for Christmas?”

Laurel drew in a big breath and began. “For Christmas this year, I want Daddy to have the whole day off and for nobody to call in a one-eighty-seven or a two-oh-seven or a two-forty-six on the radio so he doesn’t have to leave while we open presents and eat dinner. I want all of his cases to be solved so he can keep being the best detective in the whole wide world. And I want all of Mommy’s students to turn in their work on time so she doesn’t worry about grading them. And I want her to get the—” she squinted at her list. “—Estée Lauder perfume she keeps reminding dad she’s running out of.”

Back where the parents stood, Oliver noticed the man that had brought his two daughters give a start, which he snickered into his scarf about.

The girl named Laurel wasn’t done. She and her sister had that in common. “I don’t know if Sara’s been good at all, but I trust your judgment, Santa. And it’s her birthday, too, so I want her to get the stuff she told you because you have to get presents on your birthday.”

Santa chuckled. “Well, I’m sure I can make that happen. But what would you like for Christmas, my dear?”

Laurel blinked and looked up with wide, green eyes. “I thought about it a lot, but I already have a lot of toys. And I can get all the books I want at the library. Mom’s allergic to fur, so we can’t have pets. Our house isn’t big enough for a shark, and they aren’t pets anyway.”

“Perhaps not. But—”

“The teacher at school had us take home a card with another kid’s name and what they wanted for Christmas. I got Tim, and he wanted a new basketball, and we’re gonna buy it today. But I hope he gets other presents from you, too, Santa.”

Oliver looked down at his list with all the things he had written that he wanted. His parents could probably buy it all for him and then some. What was he asking Santa for it for if there were other kids who didn’t get presents at Christmas unless other people were buying them?

Maybe Santa’s business wasn’t doing very well, and that was why Laurel had been asked to buy another kid’s basketball. Maybe that was why all those other Santas at the stores had that pail to drop money in.

“That’s very kind of you, Laurel. I’ll make sure to check my list for Tim,” Santa promised. “But was there anything at all you’d want for yourself? Big or small.”

“Well, maybe my own room would be nice,” Laurel said, a smile causing a little dimple to appear at the corner of her mouth. Oliver felt sort of warm all over seeing it.

Santa gave another big, booming laugh. “A new room might fit a little snug in my sack of presents, but I’ll see what I can do, young lady. Now then, you just keep smiling for our picture, hm?”

They took it, and Laurel hopped off Santa’s lap while chirping a, “Thank you!” She ran out of the little enclosure, and Oliver watched her go.

“Come forward, young man!”

Tommy nudged him in the back. “Ollie, it’s your turn.”

“Oh.” He hurried forward towards Santa, who smiled down at him. Oliver was placed in his lap.

“And what would you like for Christmas this year?”

“Uh…” Oliver looked down at his list again. A lot of what he wanted on it was stuff Tommy was asking for, too. All the movies and games, anyway. He wanted his own, but they could share, couldn’t they?

“I wanted a buncha stuff,” he told Santa, “but I don’t need it if other kids aren’t gonna get presents this year.”

Santa blinked. “Oh. Well, I don’t know that you need to worry too much about that—”

“I got money. If you need to buy more stuff for the elves to make the presents, or if you gotta pay them more for working more.” He knew it was called something, but he couldn’t remember what his dad had said. He tuned out most of what his dad said whenever they were at the office, content to sip his soda and watch the city out the big windows. Oliver unzipped the pocket of his jacket that held the paper bill that meant one-hundred and tried to pass it to Santa, but the old man closed Oliver’s hand around.

“That’s very kind of you, young man, but I assure you that I have everything I need at the North Pole. Now then, let’s see what’s on your list.”

Oliver didn’t see how Santa could be right if other kids had to ask strangers to buy their gifts for them, and he read off his list with much less enthusiasm than he had felt while waiting in line. Santa directed him to look at the camera that he mustered up a smile for, then he jumped off his lap and rushed out of the gated area.

He ran right up to Raisa, who patted his cheek and said, “Mr. Oliver, do you still have your allowance?”

He patted the pocket to check and nodded. “How come Santa didn’t want my money?”

“Because Santa doesn’t deliver toys for money.”

“Then how’s he pay for anything?” Something didn’t make sense with this whole setup, but Oliver didn’t know what.

Raisa shook her head, smiling indulgently after him. “Why don’t you save yourself and Mr. Tommy a spot in the line for the train?”

“Okay.” He turned and walked over there, still stewing over it, and nearly walked right into the back of a girl. “Sorry,” he blurted, backing up a step.

She turned around, and Oliver realized it was Laurel, the girl who had been in line ahead of him, the girl who had said other kids weren’t getting presents unless someone else bought them.

“That was really nice what you did,” Laurel told him.

“You saw that?” For some reason, his cheeks started to burn and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Laurel nodded. “There’s lots of toy drives in the city. They ask people for money if they can give it. My daddy calls it charity.”

He’d heard that word before. His mom and dad went out at night all the time for charity. Oliver was supposed to do that, too, when he grew up.

“Okay. I’ll ask my dad about it.” If Santa didn’t want money, he’d find someone else to give the other kids presents. Oliver didn’t think the other kids could all be on the naughty list; he’d made the nice list, and he knew he hadn’t been as good as he could have been this year.

The train stopped, and all the kids currently on it got off, Laurel’s sister among them. One of the workers opened the little gate he, Laurel and a few other kids stood by. “All aboard!”

They both walked in, Laurel picking a seat near the middle. Oliver hovered by her, looking back to see Tommy was only just getting his picture with Santa.

A soft thumping sound caused him to look back at Laurel, who patted the bench beside her. “You can sit with me if you want.”

“Okay!” He sat down quickly, trying not to feel too guilty that Tommy was probably running over right now to get on the train. There were still open seats behind them. “I’m Ollie,” he added, realizing he hadn’t actually introduced himself.

“I’m Laurel,” she said.

The train whistle blew, and together they were off.

#lauriver #lauriverholidays2020 #oliver queen #laurel lance #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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mychemicalxmen · 4 years

Text

The Umbrella Academy College Theatre Kid AU Plot

Alright bitches, ask and ye shall receive.

Here’s the 6k summary of this ten-chapter monstrosity I almost wrote a year ago and just now attempted to flesh out.

Canon divergence from the point of their birth onward. The Commission doesn’t exist here, it would just make everything a little too complicated. No Luther/Allison either, personal preference. If anyone would want to try writing or drawing a scene from this universe, I would be over the heckin moon, please feel free to do w/e if any part of this inspires anyone. And if anyone just wants to shoot hc, pop off!

But yeah. This is a crack concept treated dead seriously. Buckle up.

Chapter One - “Overture”

-I wrote this chapter, but it’s Really Not Good. I had just watched the show and hadn’t written fic in a Hot Minute.

-Welcome to Umbrella University, a top-tier school with a sacrilegiously large budget for the fine arts!

-They’re all freshman atm.

-Basically, all of our kiddos (except Five, we’ll get there) are cleaning the theater between shows in the fall season. Allison is acting House Crew Chief and is overseeing the whole thing. The others are on House Crew for various reasons - tech class credit, volunteer hours, etc. No one is actually studying theatre for their major except Allison, who’s double-majoring in acting and something else

-They’re essentially strangers (except Ben and Klaus, who are assigned roommates). They’re all aware of their own powers, but not any of the others’.

-As they clean, the host on the radio is going on about the one-year anniversary of his favorite “Hargreeves Five” (the current Academy, made up of different kids from the 43, and definitely not based on the ASBO Five) battle, apprehending a robber named Erick Webber in New York City. He was a starving actor who stole from large donation funds that were supposed to be distributed to other starving artists. The battle got violent, and fire got involved. What a spectacle!

-Vanya, who has accidentally skipped her meds that day, sees a rat and screams, prompting Luther to drop the lighting equipment he’s working on. Loud sound. Telekinetic energy starts going.

-There is a comically convenient chain reaction in which all of the siblings’ powers are triggered at once - Diego throws something, Klaus levitates, the Horror has to hold up the light rig, Allison has to rumor to memory-wipe the witnesses, etc.

-Once they have the situation under control, they realize it’s… weird. The odds are absolutely astronomical. How the hell did they all end up in the same place??

-There’s no reason to believe anyone brought them together on purpose, except maybe fate, or whatever Mysterious Space Magic caused their birth in the first place. They have a private House Crew meeting with a lot of freaking out and questions and bonding.

Chapter Two - “God I Hope I Get It”

-Fast forward to junior year. Since that fateful day, the theater has become the siblings’ home base. Luther is the shop foreman this year, Allison is seated at the right hand of the theatre department director (a sharp middle-aged woman who directs half of the shows), Diego knows his way around lights, and Klaus frequently builds and paints in the scene shop. Allison’s the only one of them who actually performs.

-The fall season includes Hair and Othello, and the joint audition for both is quickly approaching.

-Vanya, however, has been drifting away from it all for some reason. Allison finds her in the quad one day and encourages her to audition for Othello. Apparently, the theatre director has observed Vanya’s love of reading plays from afar and asked for her specifically. Vanya doesn’t want to go anywhere near the theater, but she’s touched by Allison’s belief in her and reluctantly says she’ll think about it.

-Diego is going through his classes and can’t help but feel like there’s this one freshman that’s just… following him. Looking at him funny. Keeps showing up in all his usual spots. Must be one of those obnoxious wiz kids - there’s no way in hell that he’s eighteen years old.

-Vanya has a monologue in her back pocket, her favorite from Winter’s Tale, ready to go. But when the day of the audition comes, she walks into the theater for the first time in months, and she breaks down and runs to the bathroom. Allison is too busy helping the director to console her, so she sends Klaus to check on her.

-Klaus talks to her through the door and tries to hype her up for the audition. Ghost!Ben tells him to reel it in.

-Vanya eventually admits that she drifted away from the theater because it was always a special place for the six of them, but after Ben died in a car crash in sophomore year, thinking about it just broke her heart all over again.

-Klaus doesn’t quite have the tact of language to bring her comfort, but Ben does. Without revealing he can see Ben, Klaus just echoes his words. Saying that Ben would still want her to be happy here. Saying that it’s okay to take time to work through all those feelings. He stays there until Vanya’s calm enough to come out of the bathroom, hug him for a really long time, and then go into her audition.

-The cast lists go out, and all the siblings run to see the one for Othello. Allison is the stage manager, to the surprise of no one, and has already seen that she’ll be playing Dionne in Hair. The headmaster’s kid (who I never gave a name, so let’s just call him Ollie) is playing Othello, some guy named Leonard is playing Roderigo, and Vanya is playing Desdemona. While they’re leaving to celebrate, Diego sees The Weird Freshman sign his initial on the cast list, confirming his role. He takes a peek at it later and wonders how this five-foot-six gremlin was cast as Iago, and what kind of a name is Five, anyway?

Chapter Three - “Good Morning Starshine”

-Production on Hair has begun.

-Diego is still a vigilante, but like, specifically for the college’s organization for fighting sexual harassment. Make no mistake, he is not endorsed by the club in any way, shape, or form. But when fellow criminal justice major Eudora Patch gets catcalled on a late night walk home from the library, a fraternity douchebag gets his hoodie pinned to the wall with a knife and receives an extremely harsh talking-to.

-Eudora just sighs into the darkness like “Diego was that really necessary” and keeps walking and Diego runs up to meet her like “yes??”

-Insert exposition here about how they’re exes but there’s still that Tension and fond bickering from the show. Eudora thinks he should get involved in other things on campus, but he immediately rejects it. No. Nope. Nothing else going on. Just lights. And Batman.

-Luther and Allison often hang out in one of the hallways of the theater for lunch. Allison complains that she’s in charge of a lot of little projects in the program, and it’s hard to get people to listen to her. Luther complains that Diego hasn’t been showing up to help in the shop lately. Even though Diego’s not officially on set crew, it’s a little suspicious that he hasn’t been around.

-The mainstage theater has been going through a very fancy refurbishment, and a new chandelier just came in. How the department has the money for a chandelier, no one has any idea. There’s an inside joke that the theatre director must be having a scandalous lesbian affair with the headmaster.

-After a while, Luther enlists Klaus to help him to figure out what Diego’s hiding. With their single shared braincell, it takes them a little too long to realize that Diego’s name is on the Hair cast list. But that can’t possibly be right.

-Luther and Klaus sneak into the blackbox (a smaller, more intimate theater) in the middle of a Hair rehearsal and, sure enough, holy shit, Diego is actually onstage as one of the tribe people, lowkey having the time of his life.

-Enter UT Dallas transfer David Katz in the role of Claude. And it’s just. On sight. Klaus is down for the goddamn count.

-“Who is that??” “I know, right? Like, that’s our brother.” “No, no, not him. The really pretty one.”

-At the end of whatever song they’re doing, Diego locks eyes with Luther and almost dies of embarrassment right then and there.

-Cue big long childish argument of “why didn’t you tell us you had any interest in being in the musical?” and “I didn’t know I had any interest either oKAY you weren’t supposed to find out” “how wouldn’t we have found out you IDIOT we LIVE HERE.”

-At the end of rehearsal, Diego is feeling entirely beaten down. As is Allison, up to her eyeballs in responsibility. They sit on the loading dock and Diego admits he didn't want to make a big deal out of the fact that he was in Hair. But he’s actually really digging the songs and the messages and the comradery. Even though musical theatre is dumb. Allison assures him it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

Chapter Four - “What’s the Buzz?”

-Production on Othello has begun.

-Fluffy opening that’s just a montage of Disaster Klaus repeatedly trying to justify sitting in on Hair rehearsal. “Sure, Allison, let me cut out those gels.” “Sure, Dance Captain, I can record the choreography.” “Shut up, Ben, I’m just really into American military history.”

-Meanwhile he’s just…… watching the show, listening to Dave sing, waiting for the right moment to strike up a Totally Casual Conversation with him.

-And it happens! Eventually.

-Diego meets Eudora on the loading dock and comes clean to her about the fact that he’s in the musical. Eudora is shocked and amused and teases him a little for it, but she’s ultimately supportive. And endeared. Cute bickering.

-When she leaves for her next class, Five is six feet away sipping coffee like “Oh, you’re both the same major? Aww that’s adorable.”

-Diego finally confronts him and asks him what his deal is and Five says something cryptic about “Reggie’s bastards”. Diego grabs him by the arm and drags him to the empty dressing room and interrogates him on everything he knows.

-Five is somewhere in his thirties, he can teleport, his body’s been screwed up by time travel complications, he knows about all the others, and he’s “played a game of hopscotch with an unsympathetic god”. When asked why he came back to this time in particular, he dodges the question with some snarky reply of how he’s not sure he made the right call.

-They decide not to tell everyone else all at once, until they hear faint movement. They find Klaus buried under a throw blanket on The Couch that every theater has, a little stoned, stirring from a midday dressing room nap.

-��I’m a BOY in LOVE, leave me aLONE.”

Chapter Five - “No One is Alone”

-Once again, Allison is overwhelmed. She had rumored her way into the double major when she didn’t actually have the high school credits necessary to graduate on time, but since meeting the other siblings, she’d sworn off using her power. If she was caught, it could start a breadcrumb trail to the others and expose all of them. And like, they just want to get out of here with their degrees, man.

-The theatre department director has had to assign her the most incompetent freshmen in the world to manage with assorted housekeeping tasks. They have an attitude, they don’t know how anything works, and Allison simply doesn’t have the time to lead them. She comes to the theatre director to explain this.

-And for the first time in a long while, the director expresses sternness to her. And it hurts.

-”Come on, Allison, we both know you’re good with people. You can be very persuasive when you want to be. You will work this out.”

-It’s very pointed. She will work this out. There is no other option.

-And. Not to be self-centered, but the spring musical is going to be Cabaret, and Allison has been convinced she had Sally Bowles in the bag. But if she gets on the director’s bad side halfway through junior year…

-It’s a particularly tense day, ten minutes before she has to sign in for Hair rehearsal. Some poor freshman is organizing the costume closet and just doesn’t get it and doesn’t want to be here and the director demands that this is done by the end of the day.

-So. It’s just one. It’s no big deal. She just heard the oddest little rumor that the student could make the closet perfectly tidy within the hour.

-Five and Vanya are at rehearsal for Othello. Now that he’s actually talked to Diego and Klaus, he feels a little more at ease being in this place and time. The two have plenty of time to chat while on breaks. And because Vanya is such a chill, calming force compared to the stubborn and impulsive Diego, it goes a lot smoother.

-Neither of them can stand Ollie, the headmasters’ pretentious son who’s playing Othello, going on and on about his actor step-brother in New York. Whatever. He likes to creep around the scene shop, too. Like he’s judging the tech. I’d like to see YOU pick up a drill, sir.

-He’s also really close to the theatre director. No one’s ever heard them interact, but they’ve sure seen them together. And he’s not even putting in all the hours for her that Allison is.

-Vanya and Five probably get coffee before rehearsal. Run lines. Five rambles about the flaws in Shakespeare’s philosophies over an americano. And they eventually tell each other their stories.

-Pogo had gone with Sir Reginald to examine the children and their potential prior to adoption. Reginald’s technology sensed great power in Vanya, even as an infant. After Vanya’s mother refused to sell, Pogo went behind Reginald’s back and made contact with the mother, advising her on how to suppress Vanya’s powers (but not emotions) with medication whenever they couldn’t be internally controlled. Vanya was good at self-control for much of her childhood, but the adjustment to college and grief of losing Ben put her back in a risky zone, so she’s been leaning a little more heavily on her medicine these days. She knows the adrenaline she gets onstage is good and natural, but it makes her nervous about forgetting a dose again.

-Five’s mother was quite a character. The name came from the fact that, during birth, Five first hit the air at exactly 12:00:05.

-Five had practiced his time jumps all through his childhood. (With none of the spite and rush he had in canon, he had no need to leap years right away, so he took it slow.) Sometimes he would get stuck in a place for a while, but his mom was cool and understood this. He would adapt to the new environment, anywhere between hours and weeks, and jump right back when he got enough rest to use his power again. There were some bugs, some problems with exact accuracy of destination, but he was always working on it. He was very lonely, though, never getting to meet with any of the other 43 and being discouraged from doing so by his mother.

-There was a portion of the future he got stuck in as a teenager in which the nation was governed by a tyrannical organization called “The Macbeth Enterprise”.

-Vanya immediately tries to shush him at this point in the story because he said the Bad Theatre Word. The director is very superstitious. She takes it deadly seriously and has threatened to actually penalty anyone who says it in the theater. Five just chuckles.

-And luckily, they’re rehearsing in the blackbox today, so even if the director could hear, it’s not “in the theater”.

-The future he saw was a century ahead of them, far beyond their lifetime. He was able to glean a little information about the origins of the Enterprise, but he shares none of this with Vanya. Firstly, those in power had high-tech augmentation that gave them a perfect replica of the kind of superpowers the 43 had - mind manipulation, immortality, etc. And secondly, they were credited with destroying the Hargreeves Five. As if the Hargreeves Five were a danger to society.

-What he does tell Vanya is that he’d never made any attempt to change the timeline before, but that’s just what he decided to do. With what little information he had, the only thing he could think of was to ruin the Enterprise’s namesake.

-Five spent literal years of his life, traveling from city to city across centuries, dooming various productions of Macbeth with Commission-level pragmatism until the name of the play itself became the taboo we know irl today.

-Vanya’s laughing. Five is too, honestly. It’s crazy.

-But he didn’t do what he did out of a ridiculous dare to himself. He did it out of desperation to not only to save the country, but to save his family as well. The family he’d never known. The kids all across the globe who went through the same strange hell of differentness that he had since birth. The Hargreeves Five, of course, needed to survive, as they’re responsible for maintaining peace on earth anyway. But if the Hargreeves Five were hunted down, why would the Enterprise stop there? Wouldn’t all 43 of them be in danger? Would all their gifts be harvested from them, and would they then be thrown away?

-But who knows if Five actually made a difference? He prays that it did. But the years of isolation in his personal mission convinced him of one thing - he should know his family. He had no idea when the country would start falling to shit - if it still would - but he could keep an eye on it alongside people who understood him. And with his foresight, maybe they could rise against the evil together.

-And maybe he was just so tired of being alone.

-So, digging was done through the Internet and several libraries in several eras. He found his insertion point at the University. He knew he’d have to look a little younger to fit in.

-But naturally, he got some equations wrong.

-Eventually, Five is formally introduced to Luther and Allison, who welcome him with slight skepticism, followed by a strong bear hug. Five’s not sure how to take the physical affection. He nods, which is a completely normal response to a hug, wraps his arms back around them, and tries to keep his eyes from leaking.

Chapter Six - “Whispering”

-It’s tech week of Hair, and because he’s been blowing his voice out in rehearsal from underdeveloped technique, Diego is on vocal rest.

-Most of this chapter is Diego Is On Vocal Rest and Everyone Gives Him Shit About It in a Loving Way.

-“Everyone” includes Eudora. She just bought her tickets for opening night.

-One early afternoon, Luther and Klaus are back in the scene shop together - Luther’s moving some lumber around and Klaus is carefully painting a setting onto a flat - and Luther vents that he’s not looking forward to running spotlight on Othello. He knows he can do it, but he wishes the theatre director would trust him with more authority and let him be Technical Director.

-Ben is eternally rolling his eyes and bitching about how entitled Luther sounds. He’s already the goddamn shop foreman. Klaus tries not to laugh at how annoyed Ben is about this.

-“But Diego could totally go back to lights for Othello! Hair will be over by then! He’s the pro! If I were TD I’d put him back on in an instant!”

-Dave wanders into the shop and says “hey” and Klaus nearly drops his wet paint brush onto the floor.

-After the brief succession of clumsy attempts Klaus had made to connect with Dave, Dave is actually bothering to return the effort.

-Luther is oblivious as hell while he’s toting the lumber around just like “Oh hi! Welcome! You’re new right? I’m Luther. I’m the shop foreman. You ever been on a tech crew before?” and this whole cringey spiel of small talk he usually gives to new students.

-About a minute into the small talk Luther finally sees how awkward Dave feels and how tense Klaus looks and he’s just like ohhhhh.

-He moves his task about eight feet further away to give them some space to talk. Even though that’s definitely not where the lumber is supposed to go. He just doesn’t want to make it weirder.

-Anyway. Insert fluff that isn’t obscenely flirtatious but is like… flirting with flirtatious.

-Later on that day, Leonard is tapped by the headmaster to join Student Government. Must’ve been one hell of a GPA. The new commitment forces him to give up the part of Roderigo in Othello.

-Leonard tells Allison this. Shit. Just what she needed today. She turns to her assistant stage manager and murmurs, shrugging off the guilt as she says it: “I heard a rumor you broke the news to our director as gently as possible.”

-After an eternity of assembling, dusting, and re-dusting, the Umbrella University theater chandelier is finally risen, ready for the first show of the season.

Chapter Seven - “The Life of the Party”

-After a hurried round of reviewing the audition tapes from the beginning of the year, Dave has been cast to fill the part of Roderigo.

-The technical director of Othello quit. No one’s really sure why. He was solid. But Luther’s been asked to step up, and he’s been trusted to pick anyone he wants to fill his previous spot on lights.

-Cue super petty conversation about how they both know Diego’s bomb at lights but they still annoy each other just by existing. Nonetheless, Diego agrees to hop onto Othello crew.

-Guess what, y’all, it’s opening night of Hair.

-Hard cut to Eudora, Luther, and Klaus, standing awkwardly together in the theater lobby, holding bouquets of various sizes and colors, convincing themselves that it’s a totally platonic gift to give to an actor.

-The show goes great. At the end of opening weekend, the cast and crew and friends go out to celebrate at the local bar and grill.

-At some point, the drinks are on Ollie, and everyone knows he and his mom are loaded. So. More drinks are had than ought to be had.

-ESPECIALLY by Five. He starts rambling about this girl named Delores in his quantum physics class and how he’s not sure if he’s allowed to find her attractive because of how complicated his age is.

-Vanya needed to get drunk. She deserved it. Now she’s yelling about this girl named Sissy in her chamber orchestra. What is happening.

-I’m not saying that Klaus and Dave had their first kiss while buzzed and behind the TUA equivalent of an Applebee’s, but I’m not not saying it.

-Luther has like two beers and starts getting emotional about how pretty the moon is.

-In classes the next morning, everyone’s hungover as shit.

-Except Allison, who was the extra careful Mom Friend and made sure her siblings made it home safe.

-Except Klaus. Who. Y’know. Didn’t really make it home. Ben goes to his 8 AM and takes Ghost Notes for him.

-Sometime that week, Luther comes into the director’s office with a question and sees her finishing a phone call, looking distraught.

-He asks if she’s okay. She doesn’t want to explain, but it eventually comes out that her son was in an accident of sorts three years ago. It’s almost the anniversary. He just got another treatment for the burn scars across half of his face. The director is still grieving the fact that it’s highly unlikely he’ll find success in his dream to be a Broadway actor.

-Luther warns Allison that the director might be in a worse mood this week. So that’s great.

-At an Othello rehearsal, Allison is calling cues from her promptbook. She pretty much has them memorized. But apparently, as the theatre director tells her, she keeps getting them wrong today?

-Allison could swear that last time she was at rehearsal, her book was different. What she’s reading is unfamiliar - lefts instead of rights, blue-outs instead of black-outs, etc. So she’s stumbling.

-On break, the theatre director expresses her frustration to Allison. We’re almost in tech week, for God’s sake. Allison apologizes and promises it won’t happen in the run.

-Allison blames her screw-ups on the stress of her overcommitments. Vanya sees she’s a little upset after the exchange and invites her to hang with her and Five after rehearsal.

-Vanya and Five have actually opened a pretty decent dialogue on mental health as it relates to their abilities, with Five’s powers damaging his psychological state and Vanya’s mood being an element of her telekinesis. Vanya reminds Allison that she’s got a lot on her plate, so she should try to take it easy where she can.

-Vanya still has anxiety, and it tends to flare at the part in the play where Othello smothers Desdemona with a pillow. They had worked out a safe plan in rehearsal. The pillow is thin and held at an angle so Vanya can still breathe, and it is only going to be held for a count of twelve. No longer, no shorter.

-Vanya and her siblings also take some more time to bitch about Ollie, too. Did you hear him accidentally call the director “mom” the other day? How embarrassing. What a dork.

-Hair closes and Othello tech week begins.

-A new batch of freshman House Crew members are cleaning up the theater one day with the radio on.

-It’s now the three year anniversary of the host’s favorite Hargreeves Five battle, a showdown against aspiring actor and convicted robber Erick Webber that went up in flames.

Chapter Eight - “Brush Up Your Shakespeare”

-The twelve-hour cue-to-cue tech rehearsal for Othello is a nightmare. But aren’t all cue-to-cues nightmares?

-They are.

-There might be some fluffy sibling stuff here, but nothing important. Luther, Diego, and Allison are speaking on headset with each other (“on com”). The channel also includes the assistant stage manager and assistant tech director.

-About five hours in, Luther and Diego get real sick of each other. Luther is redundant with his directions. Diego knows what to do. Diego keeps jumping the gun on cues. Passive aggression ensues.

-Allison has had it up to HERE and says “Look, if you’re gonna be children, can you please do it on a different channel?”

-And they do. They dedicate a whole other radio channel to Luther and Diego arguing where the rest of the crew can’t hear it.

-It’s during the cue-to-cue that Allison screws up the calls one too many times - is someone editing her promptbook when she’s not around? - and gets one more comment from the director. It’s worded like encouragement but spoken like a threat.

-“Allison, you were doing so well with the freshman. Just tell yourself you can do this. You’ll be perfect.”

-At lunch break, she wants to collapse. She goes to the bathroom, locks the door, and looks into the mirror.

-“I heard a rumor that you followed that promptbook perfectly.”

-The day after cue-to-cue, Vanya realizes she’s lost her meds. They have to be in the theater somewhere, but she can’t find them. Her siblings assure her that being in the show has improved her overall confidence, and they’ll all come running if she starts to have a meltdown for any reason. She’ll be able to control her emotions until she can get a refill. This warms her lil heart.

-The final dress rehearsals come to pass. Vanya continues to flourish. Five continues to impress and confound. Allison is flawless. Luther and Diego get over themselves. Klaus and Eudora get front row seats for opening night. It’s going to be a packed house. The local news are coming and filming segments to promote the program. As if the program needs any more support. The chandelier still boggles the mind.

-Opening night. The show is going spectacularly until Act V, when Ollie starts pressing the pillow over Vanya’s face.

-This is always the hard part. But it’s just a count of twelve, underscored by two bars of music.

-Until it isn’t.

-Ollie keeps pressing. This wasn’t what we rehearsed.

-Allison sees this from the booth and almost feels like they should call a hold, but her rumor kicks in and she can’t help but keep calling the show as normal.

-Vanya starts to hear the music amplified in her ears and starts to lose control of her power.

-Luther and Diego are both in Allison’s headset as the building starts to shake. “Allison, you need to call hold. Right now. Call hold!”

-Panicking, Vanya sends a pulse of energy out, knocking Ollie halfway across the stage, sending the flats crashing down, and shattering a row of stage lights. When she stands up, Ollie is smiling.

-The news crew caught it on tape. The audience is freaking out. Most of them try to flee but are trapped inside at the back of the house.

-Allison’s next call is the newest and strangest unauthorized edit she’s seen in her promptbook. It’s for the wrong play.

-“Spot B to Macbeth.”

-At the first time that its trigger phrase has ever been uttered in the building, the chandelier starts to glow and expand. Then, it drops, lower and lower, until it is right in front of the stage.

-It was never just a chandelier. It’s a piece of extra-terrestrial technology. Standing on the shelf on top of it are the director and the headmaster.

Chapter Nine - “The Point of No Return”

-I don’t know exactly how I’d reveal all of this, but here’s the gist.

-By the way, this is them coming out as extra-as-hell supervillains. So the way this is revealed is probably extra as hell.

-The director’s son is Erick Webber, a starving artist who resorted to a life of crime to pay his bills and got himself tangled with the Hargreeves Five, who are responsible for half of his face burning in the heat of battle.

-The director and the headmaster actually have been romantically involved for a few years, all but legally married.

-When the directors’ son was forever barred from the career of his dreams, the director and very wealthy headmaster first got together. The headmaster got her a job at the school.

-They wanted revenge for their son. But they also deduced that the Hargreeves Five were too immature for their powers and potential to ruin lives. They were just dumb kids. Their powers must be taken from them and placed into more capable hands.

-The couple had done extensive research, learned about the power potential in the 43, tracked down as many of them as they could find - preferably those already living in America - and hired all sorts of people and services to promote Umbrella University to them. They offered each one of them a sizable scholarship.

-They got seven of them.

-And they arranged meetings with characters that Hargreeves had done some shady deals with so they could acquire the otherworldly technology needed to set their plan into motion.

-And Macbeth was the trigger word for the invention - the story of an old celebrated king slain to make room for the rightful leader, as plotted by an empowered and bloodthirsty woman - so they had to put it in a theater. They had to ensure the trigger wasn’t spoken in the room until the correct time.

-Five realizes at this point that the efforts he made to change the past didn’t stop the Macbeth Enterprise, it just gave them a way more convenient origin. God dammit.

-The siblings realize Ollie was in on the whole thing. He had to make sure all seven of the kids were in the theater at the right time, so he snooped around and reported back to the Evil Moms. They let Luther be TD so Diego could cover lights. They cast Five, made Allison recruit Vanya, and made Allison SM. They took out Leonard and cast Dave to ensure Klaus and Ben would be there for opening. Ollie hid Vanya’s pills during the cue-to-cue.

-Allison realizes the director knew about her power all along and really was suggesting that she use it. Allison had done exactly what they wanted her to. They must’ve had someone re-do the promptbook each day and everything.

-The point is, there’s now news footage of a girl with unpredictably dangerous powers ruining a perfectly good school play and two women making a solid case that these children can’t be trusted with their gifts. The chandelier machinery revs up to perform its task - stripping all of their powers away.

-Five knows it won’t end there - the powers will be turned against the Hargreeves Five. Their abilities will be harvested too. And the hands that they’ll all end up in will be military-minded and will seize control of the nation, ruling by fear.

-There’s an extensive fight scene here. One that, again, I have no idea how I would write. It’s something that involves a level of family teamwork that they would not have if the theatre program didn’t bring them so close together in the first place. So it’s pretty ironic and kinda sweet.

-We find out that Dave and Eudora are absolutely ride-or-die for their idiot boyfriends that they just found out have terrifying superpowers, and they each have a moment where they contribute to the takedown.

-Ben is summoned because he legally has to be. The Horror can do some serious damage to the machine, and he finds he’s unaffected by its drainage because he’s dead as hell.

-Vanya grabs a violin from the pit where the underscoring was being played and shreds away at it to channel her power.

-The fight has heavy parallels to the prologue scene, where everyone’s powers went berserk because Vanya saw a rat and freaked out. Except there’s obviously a lot more at stake and a lot more direction in it.

-All of that gets resolved, somehow. Any of their power that gets drained gets returned to them once they get the machine shut down. Luther effortlessly snaps the tape of evidence in half.

-Allison uses her last rumor of junior year to memory-wipe and send away the cameramen and the witnesses.

-Except Eudora and Dave, who are surprisingly chill about this and promise to keep it all secret.

-The gang has no idea how to explain all the damage to the authorities, but the Criminal Justice Duo knows how to detain the bad guys in the costume closet and highlight some evidence to draw the focus to the less-than-legal dealings they made to set up their plot in the first place.

-Corruption? In college administration?? Pssshhh noooooooo never.

-The story embedded in the rumor is that the chandelier overheated and combusted, so everyone ran out. The police will discover the alien tech and go from there.

-Still, the superpower squad realizes they should lay low. Play dumb if interviewed. Skip class for a couple days and stay far away from the theatre department.

-Diego is up on the catwalk - the walkway above the audience where they maneuver the spotlights - collecting his stuff. He hears some footsteps on the ladder and sees Eudora climbing up to meet him.

-Diego starts to say something snarky and casual and Eudora’s like “No. Shut up. Just. Please. Shut up.” and kisses him.

-After weeks of pretending not to care as much as they really did and a solid half hour of having no idea if the other would live or die, here they are, standing over the decimated theater, finally at ease in each other’s arms

Chapter Ten - “Curtain Call”

-And that’s… it. When the siblings start coming back to classes, no one comes after them for whatever happened.

-Needless to say, the rest of the run of Othello has been cancelled. All theatre classes will be moved online or converted to classroom formats until repairs can be made to the building. There’s a new interim headmaster and theatre department director.

-It’s going to take forever for them to fix the damage done to the theater, and even when they do, it doesn’t feel right to keep that as their home base. So, where to now? How are they gonna fill the rest of their electives?

-All of the fine arts buildings are stacked close together. Music major Vanya has an idea.

-Second semester, Diego takes beginning percussion. Luther joins the marching band (and far exceeds the athletic demands for it). Klaus picks guitar back up. Allison ventures into vocal jazz. Five is a natural at composition.

-Sharing practice rooms. Cramming for theory exams. The entire works. They’re music kids now!

-They’re thrilled when they find out that all of their respective ensembles will be featured in the spring concert.

-But does the conductor of Vanya’s chamber orchestra seem a little… eccentric to you?

...

im a broken woman from this. god dammit.

#tua #the umbrella academy #what the hell else to tag this as #diedora #klave #Reginald They're Thespians #the chapter titles are semi-relevant names of show songs ha get it??

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lilacmoon83 · 3 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 24: Whatever it Takes, Pt 2

Margaret was in heaven, as he kissed her deeply, which was in concert with the actions of the rest of his body. She lay pinned beneath him, bare and their bodies blissfully joined together in the act of lovemaking. Even though he had gotten home late, which she completed understood the reason for, he was making it up to her.

"David…" she mewled in pleasure, as he brought her to the edge and carried her over into a euphoria that had her writhing beneath him. She knew only he could bring her such. They had always been so in sync, whether it be emotionally, mentally, or physically. His climax was only seconds behind her and they slowly came down from the high. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that she had gotten him back. Her world had literally crashed to complete devastation, with only her daughter to give her a reason to go on and the only one that had held her back from complete insanity. Had she lost Olive too, she was certain she would have been broken completely and probably ended up institutionalized somewhere. Then he returned to her and with him, her son and best friend and turned the light on inside her that went out when they disappeared. Losing him again couldn't happen; it wasn't an option. A second time would kill her; she was certain of it. But she banished those worries and trepidations that all this was too good to be true from her mind and instead focused on him and being in his arms once again.

Margaret cuddled against him and rested her head on his chest, as they basked in the afterglow. As they lay together, softly kissing, he noticed that she seemed a bit distracted now.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Mmm…Henry asked if he could go back to school today," she replied. He sighed. He supposed he should have expected that conversation.

"And you think we should let him?" he asked.

"He is better...his cancer is in remission and I think he misses normalcy," she replied.

"He is...and I agree. I'm just worried about what happens if his connection to Anton rears its head again," he said.

"And I am too...but he really wants to and as long as he's healthy, I'm not sure we shouldn't let him. Regina says his cancer is all but gone...I think he just wants to be normal again," she replied, which reminded him of a conversation he had with their son on the plane.

~*~

Flashback

As the plane touched down on the tarmac, there was some cheering, as they had been forced to circle for a while, before being diverted. He had no idea what that was all about, but he was just relieved that they were home and couldn't wait to see his wife and daughter, whom he still had to call and tell that they had been diverted to another airfield. He looked at his phone and became perplexed though.

"No signal...seriously?" Emma asked.

"Yeah...mine too," he replied, as he looked at his son.

"Hey...why the long face? We're home," he reminded him. Henry looked at him and it nearly broke his heart.

"When we were on vacation, I felt like I didn't have cancer anymore," Henry replied.

"I know, buddy," David said softly.

"But now that we're back in New York...I have cancer again. Part of me never wanted to come back here," he replied.

"I know...and Mom and I felt that way too. We even talked about just staying on the beach forever with you and Ollie. But life, unfortunately, just doesn't work that way. We're going to keep fighting though," he promised.

~*~

"You're right…" he agreed, as they had gotten up and put their robes on. They were both now in their son's room, watching him sleep. Despite being the middle of the night, they weren't the only ones awake and heard someone in the kitchen.

"Emma's probably eating blueberry pop-tarts," Margaret whispered. He kissed her tenderly.

"I'll go see what's going on with her," he said, as he left her to keep watch on their son, while he went to the kitchen.

"Hey…" he said, as he came in.

"Hey," she replied, as she drank cocoa and munched on a pop-tart.

"That's a lot of sugar at two in the morning," he mentioned.

"Did MM make you say that?" she asked and he chuckled.

"Of course...but seriously, you only eat this stuff in the middle of the night after a nightmare," he replied. She nodded.

"Was it about the night Lily died again?" he asked.

"Actually no...it was about Killian," she replied.

"A nightmare about Killian?" he asked.

"It was more unease than anything. I think we're being watched...and getting Killian involved was a mistake. What if knowing all this puts him in danger?" she asked.

"I've thought about that...especially with Margaret. But keeping something...anything from her just isn't an option for me. Especially something like this," he replied. She sighed.

"I know...but he's not with me. He's married to someone else. I mean, how do you think his wife would feel if she found out that her husband risked his entire career and livelihood to cover for his ex?" she asked. He winced.

"Not great…" he agreed.

"But that was his choice. You offered to come clean and he wouldn't let you," he reminded her. She snorted.

"I didn't have to listen to him," she muttered.

"But you did, because you respect him and there's still feelings there," he mentioned.

"Don't start with that," she protested.

"I'm not saying act on those feelings...but you probably should deal with them so you can move on," he said. She gave him a withering gaze.

"That is exactly what MM would tell me," she replied. He smirked.

"Well, she is my wife and soul mate...and she's always right," he said. She sighed and didn't protest that.

"Yeah...well, it's easier said than done. Meanwhile, what are you doing up and believe me, I'm trying to ignore your sex hair, cause that can't be the only reason," she said. He chuckled at that.

"We...we were just talking about Henry. He wants to go back to school and I'd be lying if I said that it didn't scare me," he said.

"You mean because of Anton?" she asked. He nodded.

"I just...maybe we should find him first. I mean, what if Henry relapses?" he asked. She sighed.

"David...you need to realize that it could be a while or never when we do find him. I think letting Henry go back to something of a normal life is the best thing. For all of us...especially if we are being watched," Emma replied.

"MM thinks so too," he mentioned.

"And she's always right," Emma teased and he smiled.

"Okay...good late night talk," he said, as he stood up.

"Get some sleep," he urged.

"You too," she replied.

"We'll see," he said slyly.

"Eww…" she complained, as she headed back downstairs and he went to the bedroom.

"Is she okay?" Margaret asked. He nodded.

"She is...and you're right about Henry. We should let him go back to school," he agreed. She smiled and kissed him.

"I'll get him registered...and everything is going to be okay," she promised. He smiled and kissed her again.

"You're right...because I have you," he said, as he caressed her face gently. Their lips met again and a second bout of passion consumed them.

~*~

After a restless night, Emma was on her way to the station when she received the call. They had a possible jumper and they wanted her there, because it was an 828 passenger. She rushed to the scene and arrived to find Killian and other officers already on the scene.

"Do you recognize him?" Killian asked.

"No...but I don't have the passenger roster memorized like my brother," Emma replied.

"We identified him as Felix Smith," one of the officers said. Emma vaguely remembered seeing him on the plane and that's when she heard her own voice again, in her head.

"Don't Lose Him," the voice said. Another Calling and she took a deep breath.

"I'm going up to talk to him," she said.

"All right...let's get a harness on you," Killian agreed, as they got her ready.

~*~

"And now...we're in," Billy said, as he showed David some of the coding procedures.

"Nice…I think it's starting to come back to me. Thanks for taking the time to run through this with me," he said.

"No problem," Billy said, as he stood up and David knew it was now or never. He felt badly about it, but pretended to accidentally stumble and knock the coffee cup in Billy's hand all over him.

"Oh my God...I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy," he said, as he tried to help the now irritated IT tech clean off with some paper towels.

"Ugh...it's okay. I got it," Billy said, as he headed for the bathroom. David looked back at the laptop and took a flash drive out of his pocket. He quickly found his way into the UDS coding and through into the account. He smirked, as it was everything needed. He put the flash drive in the slot and initiated the copy. He tapped his foot impatiently and heard footsteps coming toward the room. It was undoubtedly Billy and he had only seconds. Fortunately, he finished and ejected the flash drive, before standing up from the table.

"I'm really sorry...and thanks again," David said. Billy smiled.

"No worries...and I know you didn't mean to," he replied. David nodded and returned to his desk, with the flash drive safely in his pocket.

~*~

Emma opened the door to the roof of the building and slowly stepped onto the rooftop.

"Stay back!" Felix cried.

"Felix...it's okay. My name is Emma Nolan...I was on the plane too," she told him. He squinted his eyes, as if trying to place her, and then shook his head.

"No...stay away!" he insisted.

"Felix...I know what you're going through," she promised, as she slowly moved closer.

"It has to stop…" he cried, as there were tears in his eyes.

"What has to stop?" she asked.

"People are dying and it's my fault!" she replied.

"I'm sure that's not true," she said.

"No...you don't understand! There's only one way to stop it!" he claimed, as he looked down.

"I can see my house from here…" he said quietly.

"Felix...if you just come down, I know I can help you find out why these people close to you died," Emma replied.

"No...you can't. No one can help. More will die, unless I die instead," Felix insisted.

"Felix...no, that's not true. Please don't do this!" she pleaded, but he jumped anyway and she rushed to the edge. She lowered her head, as she saw him, dead on the pavement. She lost him...she had failed another Calling.

~*~

David suppressed an eyeroll, as he made his way toward Doc's office. The guy was the definition of an inept manager, who spent his time in his office, trolling the internet and eating junk food, while his employees did his allotment of work and made him look good. He drove a Maserati, while the real workers made peanuts. Working here was necessary though, but hopefully not for much longer. He couldn't risk looking at the flash drive here at work, but he couldn't wait to get home to do so either.

"Hey…" David stepped into his office and Doc waved him in.

"Man…I have been all over the 828 conspiracy sites this morning. There is some insane chatter," he said. David hated those sites and how his entire family was splashed all over them. It was bad enough that he and Emma were all over them, but it made his blood boil that his wife and children were also on the sites.

He was about to tell him that he was done with what he'd been given and was bored out of his mind, but the fire alarm went off, interrupting them.

"Okay...fire drill! Everyone file out down the stairs calmly," Doc called. David followed the other employees to the lobby and outside into the courtyard. He saw Vance and Gold standing by a tree and watched them casually walk away. He realized that they were likely the cause of the fire drill and casually followed them, until he was in the parking garage.

"Phone," Vance said.

"Excuse me?" David asked.

"Give me your phone...it's bugged," Vance clarified.

"You bugged my phone?!" David asked, as he handed it over and watched Vance stomp on it.

"We're the NSA...we bug everything," Vance said.

"Then why are you here?" David asked.

"I know about the flash drive. You realize that I could arrest you for corporate espionage?" he asked.

"But you haven't," David replied.

"Have you looked at any of the data?" Vance asked.

"Not yet...I can't here without getting caught," David replied.

"You can now...if you agree to work with us," Vance said, as he gave him a new phone and laptop.

"Wait...now you want to work with me?" David asked. Vance sighed.

"We saw the farm...and we saw the evidence," he said.

"Then why do you need me? Why don't you just take the flash drive and hand it off to one of your analysts?" David questioned and Gold smirked. Vance sighed.

"Because the minute I do...they'll be onto us and that data is too raw for me to make any sense of. Perhaps you can crack it though," he said. David sighed.

"So now you want me to trust you?" he asked.

"I know that's a risk, but I do respect your quest to keep your family safe," Vance replied. David took the devices and looked at them both.

"I'll see what I can find," he said, as he headed back inside, just as his new phone showed that he had a missed call from Emma.

"Hey...sorry I missed your call," David said, as he took the stairs.

"It happened again. A Calling...and I failed it," Emma told him.

"Okay...slow down," he said, as he stopped in the stairwell.

"One of the passengers, Felix Smith...jumped off a roof. He kept saying that people around him were dying and the only way to stop it from happening again was if he died instead. The Calling told me not to lose him...and I did," Emma said and he could tell she was really distraught.

"Oh Emma...I'm so sorry, but him jumping is not your fault," he reasoned.

"How do you know? The Calling was pretty clear," she sniffed.

"The Callings are never clear...you know that. Do you know why he thought people around him were dying?" he asked.

"Not yet...Killian and are headed to his place to search it soon," Emma answered.

"Okay...keep me posted and don't blame yourself. We'll figure this out...all of it," he promised, as he hung up and returned to his desk with his new laptop. He put the other one away and set up the new one. He looked around and without further delay, he put the flash drive in and delved into the raw data.

~*~

After her last class let out, Margaret arrived at Olive's school. The High School she attended was also connected to the Middle School and the Elementary School, which made her feel a little about enrolling Henry in school. At least she knew that Ollie would be there with him before and after school and perhaps even at lunch. Registering him was fairly quick and easy and she met her daughter outside at the car.

"Hey Mom…" Olive said, as they shared a hug.

"Hey sweetheart, how was your day?" she asked.

"Great...is Henry starting school tomorrow?" she asked, as they got in the car.

"He is and I know he's going to protest, but will you please walk him to his class in the morning and make sure he gets settled okay?" Margaret asked. Olive chuckled.

"Don't worry...I've got it, Mom," Olive promised, as they were about to get in when a man approached them.

"Mrs. Nolan…" Sidney greeted.

"You again? Are you following me?" Margaret asked in an accusatory tone. He put his hands up and kept his distance.

"I know I might seem persistent, Mrs. Nolan...I simply just want to tell your side of the story," Sidney said.

"How did you even know where I was going to be if you're not following me?" Margaret asked defensively.

"I am an investigative reporter, Mrs. Nolan...finding out where your daughter goes to school was not difficult," he replied. That alarmed her too. He was digging into their lives and she didn't like it at all.

"Listen…I don't know what your agenda is, but I don't like it. I'm not giving you an interview and I want you to leave us alone. My sister-in-law is a cop and if you come near us again, I'll slap you with a restraining order so fast, it will make your head spin!" Margaret threatened, as she ushered Olive into the car. Mr. Glass watched, as she hurried to the driver's side and sped away.

He walked back to his car and made a call, as he drove back to his office.

"I cornered her at the school, as instructed. She reacted much in the way you said she would," Sidney reported.

"Good...slowly driving that little retch crazy is going to be entertaining, to say the least," the female voice said.

"Mrs. Mills-Blanchard...I am a reporter, not a stalker. This makes me highly uncomfortable and it could get me terminated from the newspaper," Sidney argued.

"I am paying you more than you make in five years to do this one job. You cashed a check, Mr. Glass and I expect the job to be completed, unless you'd like to face a breach of contract," Cora said in an icy tone.

"Yes, Mrs. Mills-Blanchard," he relented.

"Good...I'll be in touch for our next move," she said, as the line went dead.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Henry Mills #AU #Manifest #with a Once twist #romance #family #drama #adventure #Lightning in a Bottle

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