Stiles reacted instinctively, grabbing hold of his attacker by the hair and sinking his fangs into the nearest body part.
Jessica let out a screech, thrashing wildly. Her frantic movements didn’t dislodge his bite, it just made the wound worse. Stiles tightened his grip and pulled his mouth away, keeping her in place.
“I warned you that if you tried to bite me, you would get hurt. Now, I’m going to give you a few important lessons and then I’m going to let you go. If you try to attack me, I will not hold back. Do you understand?” She whimpered in response and he took that as confirmation. “Firstly, don’t ever assume you know how dangerous someone is. And never attack a person that’s stronger than you. If you don’t know if they’re stronger, assume they are. Secondly, consent is a thing. I told you no, repeatedly. Would you want someone to ignore you if you said no? Hmm? Don’t go sticking your fangs places where they’re not wanted. Lastly, if you try that on a human who belongs to another vampire, you’ll be breaking vampire rules and the consequences will not be pleasant.”
He released her, pushing her away gently. She retreated a few steps, standing awkwardly.
“I thought the whole point about being a vampire was we could do what we wanted,” she said in a sulky voice.
“Vampires have rules and laws. Your existence as a vampire is the result of those laws, and if you feed on someone else’s human, you’ll get your fangs ripped out.”
She squeaked and covered her mouth.
“How am I supposed to know this stuff?”
“Your maker should teach you. Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billiam who is about as useful as a cactus dildo.”
Jessica giggled.
“He was so annoying!”
“One of my friends is dating him and I honestly do not see the appeal. Especially since I'm pretty sure Eric was into her at one point.”
“Really? And she went for Bill?!”
“Right? It's like being offered a limo ride and turning it down for a space hopper.”
It was startlingly easy to chat with Jessica. Stiles wondered if it was their similar ages. He loved his friends in Bon Temp but they were all older than him and even a small handful of years was like a river dividing them from fully understanding each other’s world.
The door to the office opened and Eric entered, followed by Peter. At the sight of the blood on Stiles' chin and Jessica's shoulder, both men stilled.
“How much did you swallow?” Eric asked.
“Not much, I was trying not to.”
“Even a drop is enough.” Eric shot an angry look towards Jessica.
“Enough for what?” She asked, her voice turning anxious as she began to pick at a thread on her skirt.
“If a human ingests a vampire's blood, it forms a connection. The vampire will be able to feel their emotions and track the human. The human will experience… they'll have a particular reaction.”
“But he's not human, right? He has fangs!” She turned and pointed at Stiles. “You have fangs! Humans don't have fangs! You're not human, are you?”
“Parts of me are human,” he told her. She narrowed her eyes.
“Which parts?”
“The human parts,” Stiles said with a serene smile.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Eric cleared his throat and inclined his head to the couch. Jessica sat beside Stiles, then immediately moved away from him after Peter glared at her.
Once all three were seated, Eric started to speak.
“Stiles. You invited a werewolf into my territory without informing me.”
“In my defence, I was in jail.”
“I would have gotten you out if you'd asked.”
“By glamouring the cops? Or do you have a law degree somewhere?” Eric bristled at his tone. Stiles sighed. “I know you could have got me out. But in my experience, when a cop has a vendetta against you it's better to have a paper trail and evidence that you were let go legally. Peter is a lawyer, that's why I called him.”
“And you didn't think to present yourself?” Eric asked Peter.
“My priority was Stiles' wellbeing. It will always be my priority. I did not have the time or inclination for soothing the ego of a territorial vampire, no matter how old you may be.”
Eric snarled, fangs dropping. Peter rose, letting his beta shift take over.
“ENOUGH!” Stiles snapped, moving between them and placing a hand on each of their chests. His claws were out and shadows had started to gather around his ankles. “You're both too old to behave like children! Peter, sit down. Eric, I'm sorry I went behind your back but it was necessary at the time. Now both of you, put your fangs away!”
The two men flared at each other, neither wanting to move. Eventually Eric stepped back, letting his fangs retract. Peter eyed him warily for a moment, before sitting and returning to his human features. Stiles stayed on his feet in case he needed to intervene again.
“When are you leaving?” Eric asked.
“In another day or so. I wanted to ensure that Stiles was alright before leaving. Given his recent experiences and his tendency to neglect his care. I'll be returning to Vegas in the next few days.”
“Vegas? I assumed you were part of the pack in California?”
“I am, technically. However I intend to sever ties with them as soon as I can claim alpha status for myself. Once that's done, I'll form my own pack which Stiles will be a part of. He's expressed a desire to stay in Bon Temp so we'll likely settle in the area.”
“Oh, you will? And what if I drive you out?”
“Then I'll leave with him,” Stiles said quietly.
Eric went very still. His eyes locked with Stiles, as he struggled with what he wanted to say.
“Stiles…”
“Eric, I care about you. I’m happy in Bon Temp. I have friends, I feel safe… but Peter… Peter has protected me, cared for me. He was one of the only people who noticed when I was in pain. He saved me from a monster, he searched for me when I ran and held me when I had nightmares. I would give up the life I have here in a heartbeat to stay with him. I don’t want to. But I would.” Stiles stepped closer to Eric, lightly placing a hand on his chest. “Please. Don’t make me pick. Don’t make me have to go.”
Eric considered him for a moment before looking at Peter and Jessica.
“Can you give us a moment?”
Jessica left quickly but Peter hesitated, eyes going to Stiles to make sure he was okay with it before stepping out.
Silence settled over the office, Eric looking down at Stiles with a peculiar expression. Stiles tried not to let his nerves show. Usually he was at ease with Eric but the man's silent staring made him feel small and preylike in a way he hasn't for a long time.
“What will it take,” he said, his voice a whisper. “What do I have to do for you to let Peter stay here? To let him build a pack here? To let him have peace here?”
Eric reached out and his fingers brushed against Stiles' cheek, trailing down until his thumb rested at the corner of his mouth and fingertips traced patterns over his neck.
“How has one wolf captured your loyalty so completely?” he murmured.
“He is the only person who truly knows me. Wholly. Entirely. Without fear and without judgement.”
Eric sighed softly and stepped back, moving to his desk.
“He can stay.”
“Thank you.”
“That’ll be all tonight Stiles,” he said, dismissively. His eyes went to some papers on his desk. Stiles felt a pang of hurt but he pushed it down.
“Understood.” He walked out without another word.
Stiles' schedule relaxed a bit as Sookie and Arlene began to slip back into their old routine, but there was still a handful of extra shifts he needed to fill with the absence of Amy.
Eric didn't contact him and for some reason that bothered him.
With a bit more free time, he found himself with a chance to think and a few thoughts persisted until he accepted he couldn't ignore them.
The first thing he did was text Pam and request a list of vampires in Louisiana, any that had been reported missing across the areas, any that had been punished by the magister and any newborns that had been created. He also asked if it was possible to get records of vampires in the Queen's court. She provided most of the documents he wanted, but said the formal records of the court were only accessible by the magister. However the list of vampires did include registered addresses, and property records were public so he was able to piece together a makeshift list. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with the information but he felt that it was important to have it.
The next thought was a bit more difficult to convince himself to follow.
The day that Peter left Louisiana, Stiles was an anxious wreck. His stress and nerves were clearly visible, but he excused it as being worried about Peter hunting down a rogue alpha. It wasn't a complete lie, he was worried, it just wasn't the entire reason.
He drove Peter to the airport, hugged him goodbye outside the terminal and then got back into his jeep. He drove to the carpark and waited.
He waited until the flight to Las Vegas had completed boarding. Then he left the jeep, walked into the airport and checked in for a flight to California.
Stiles had timed it to ensure he spent as little time as possible waiting to board his plane. He knew the longer he sat there, the greater the chances of him changing his mind. He had brought his paperwork with him as a distraction and, even if he wasn't sure what he was looking for yet, he fell into the research with an intense focus.
He made it through the flight, arriving in California a little before 7pm. He rented a car and started the last leg of his trip, concentrating on keeping his mind carefully blank.
It was only when the sign came into view, rising up like a ghost on the empty road, that his composure shattered.
Welcome to Beacon Hills!
Stiles slammed his foot down on the brake, the car jerking to a halt a few feet from the sign.
He stared at it, the full implication of what he was going to do finally sinking in. His breathing was ragged and his heartbeat sounded impossibly loud, blood pulsing inside his head.
He pulled to the side of the road and hesitantly got out of the car. The grass beneath his feet was damp, his shoes squeaking slightly as he approached the sign. He extended his arm, holding his palm a little above the metal. A faint electrical buzzing radiated off it, making the hairs on his arm stand up. His wards were still up. They'd been one of the first things he'd put in place but he assumed that Deaton would have replaced them. Then again, he didn't know how much power the druid actually had (he'd certainly never seemed inclined to use it). He moved his hand closer, the sharp static changing to a feeling like he was submerging it in warm water. He could almost feel the Nemeton reaching out, welcoming him.
After taking a deep steadying breath, Stiles returned to the car and started it up. It took him another few minutes of sitting there before he actually drove across the boundary line.
It was too late for his plans, but there was a small motel on the edge of town that had rooms free. He made sure he was wearing one of his scent blocking charms before leaving the car, hoodie pulled up over his head while he checked in.
Once settled in the room, all his strength seemed to abandon him and he sank onto the bed.
“What am I doing…” he muttered. He sighed and pulled out his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing. It rang for a while and Stiles was beginning to think he wasn’t going to get an answer when it finally connected.
“What?” A grumpy, half asleep voice said.
“Did I wake you?”
“It's three in the morning over here, Stilinski. Of course you woke me,” Jackson grumbled.
“Sorry, I'm not good at the time difference”
“What do you want?”
“I… I might be about to do something incredibly stupid.”
“Like pretty much everything you do?”
“Shut up.”
The sound of rustling and a click of a switch came from the other end before Jackson spoke again.
“Where are you?”
“I'm in a motel. In California.”
“You're not. Tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing.”
“I can't.”
“Are you some kind of masochist? Do you get off on this? You got out, why would you go back?!”
“There's something I need to do. But I don't know if I'm doing it because it's right or because I want to make myself feel better.”
Jackson sighed.
“Will the reason why change the outcome?”
“No.”
“Then the ‘why’ doesn't matter.”
“But I… I feel like I don't deserve to feel better.”
“This is about Allison isn't it? Stiles, you know that wasn't your fault.”
“I was angry at her. For her part in everything. I wanted her to feel the pain she'd caused.”
“Were you angry at your dad too?”
“What?”
“How about the cops at the station? Did you want them to feel pain?”
“No, of course not.”
“You're trying to put a reason behind the actions of a creature that was literally chaos personified. It went after whoever it thought would cause the most pain. You and your feelings for Allison were not the cause.” Jackson sighed again. “Look, I get it. But you can’t punish yourself for things you couldn’t control. You are not to blame for the actions of others. Isn’t that what you said to me?”
“Don’t use my own words against me.”
“Too late, I just did.”
Stiles scowled.
“I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know.” Jackson paused. “You’re still going to do it aren’t you?”
“Blame myself? Probably.”
“No, I mean whatever you were planning to do about Alison.”
“Oh. Yes. I’m here, I’ve got something else to do before I leave. Might as well.”
“And if McCall spots you?”
“Then I run.”
“You’re going to outrun a werewolf? Good luck with that.”
Stiles closed his eyes, letting out a considering hum.
“Maybe I should destroy Eichen while I’m down here…” he mused.
“Do it. You’ll probably get thank you cards. I know I’d send one.”
Jackson’s voice took on a hollow quality. After everything that had happened with the Kanima and Gerard, he’d wound up there on a 72 hour hold which had briefly overlapped with Stiles’ own stay. Once things had settled down again and Stiles was Nogitsune free once more, he’d paid a visit to the Whittemore house while they were still packing up to leave. It had been a bit strange at first, but with everything they had experienced together and the similar circumstances they’d endured as puppets to others, it had become a necessity. There was no one else they could talk to that would fully understand. Even Peter, who knew Stiles beyond the facade he put on, couldn’t completely relate to the sensation of being controlled.
“Are you doing okay?” Stiles asked quietly.
“Had some rough days recently, a few bad dreams. But they’re a lot less frequent than they were.”
“Your pack?”
“Ehh… I’m trying. They’re all related to each other or they’ve known each other for decades. I feel like an outsider.” Jackson hesitated and when he spoke again, his voice had become less dismissive. “It’s like when I found out about my parents. I don’t fit right.”
“Just remember, it’s not forever. You’ll be able to find your own pack soon, somewhere that feels right for you.”
“Hope so.” He yawned.
“I’ll let you go get your beauty sleep, I know you need it.”
“Fuck off Stilinski.”
“See you later Whittemore.”
“Hey, don’t be a dumbass, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Stiles checked out early the next morning and made his way into town. He couldn’t help the persistent feeling of paranoia as he moved through the streets of his old home. He kept his head down, hoodie up, and eyes scanning the area for anyone he knew.
He reached the florists unaccosted and let himself in. The florist, an older woman with a warm expression, was in the middle of a task and glanced over with a friendly greeting. Then they froze, before turning sharply.
“Stiles? Is that you sweetheart?”
“Hi Petra.”
She rushed out from behind the counter and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. Petra had been a friend of his mom and the only person he ever bought flowers from.
“Are you back?” she asked, pulling back and looking him over. “You look too thin, are you eating properly?”
“I’m just here for the day, I couldn’t miss another year. And yes, i’m eating, I promise.” He gave her a small smile.
Petra nodded understandingly and bustled back to the counter.
“Do you want the usual?”
“If you’ve got the supplies. I know it’s short notice.”
“I got them in, just in case.”
She went into the back, returning moments later with a bouquet of 12 sunflowers tied together with a ribbon.
“They’re perfect, thank you.” His eyes drifted over to the display of premade bouquets and, after a moment of consideration, he picked up one of white roses and a small potted orchid. “These too, please.”
“No problem. It was good seeing you Stiles.”
He paid and left, walking through town towards the cemetery. The streets were a bit more awake, people on their way to work and school. He kept off the main roads, taking some of the more hidden back routes, the kind of paths that knowledge of only came after years of living there.
The streets around the cemetery were silent as he crossed over to the main gate and entered. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he always felt like a bubble settled over him when he was inside, dampening the outside world.
Stiles walked the rows, pausing at a large memorial stone with a statue of a sleeping wolf on top. He ran his fingers over the words carved on the front of the stone. HALE in bold lettering, then a list of names and dates. He set the roses in the curve of the wolf’s body, the petals resting against its neck, before moving on.
His mother’s grave was under a large tree, the stone a simple piece of smooth marble. He had kept it clean since she had been placed there, visiting at least once a month to remove stray leaves and wipe away any grime that had formed. He would bring sunflowers once a year, always twelve of them, one for each month. Sometimes in the months between, he’d bring other flowers but the sunflowers were special.
He knelt beside the grave and began to brush aside the debris that had accumulated in his absence.
“Hi mom,” Stiles said softly. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I had to leave town, that’s why I wasn’t here last year… i shouldn’t really be here now… I don’t know if i’ll be able to come back again, but I wanted to make sure that if I can’t that I got the chance to say goodbye.” He picked up a small pot that rested on the base of the gravestone. It was old and messily painted, a craft project they’d done together. He felt tears sting his eyes as he looked at the clumsy lettering on one side.
Mommy and Mischief
He let the tears fall as he set the sunflowers in the pot, before returning it to its spot.
“I love you mom. I miss you.”
Stiles stayed by the grave for a while, sitting in silence. When he got up to leave, he found that he wasn't alone.
“Stiles,” Derek said quietly.
“Derek”
“You're back”
“I'm not staying. I'll be gone in a few hours”
“Is Peter with you?”
“No, it's just me.” Stiles paused. “Are you going to tell Scott?”
“No.”
“Why? I thought I was too ‘dangerous’ to roam free.”
“I never thought that.”
“No?”
“You are dangerous, but only when you want to be.”
Stiles wanted to believe him but the memory of hiding in the walk in at Merlottes was too strong, Derek's presence there contradicting his words.
“You hunted me.”
“I never wanted to. Scott commanded me, I didn't have a choice.”
Stiles growled. He'd had his issues with Derek, and maybe if things had been different they could have become friends, but he would never want to see the wolf's choices stripped away from him. He had pieced together the truth about what Kate had done, he'd seen how Scott had used Derek's paralysed body to bite Gerard, and he suspected that Derek's brief relationship with the Darach hadn't been entirely consensual. And now, he'd had yet another decision taken from him.
“It's not right…” he said quietly. “Why do you stay?”
“Where else can I go? No alpha is going to take in the beta who got his pack killed.”
“There will be at least one,” Stiles said, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe sooner than you think. And when the opportunity presents itself, I really think you should take it. I know this is your home but it's… not… good here”
Derek looked confused but Stiles wasn't going to waste anymore time, he had places to be.
He left the cemetery and returned to the motel where he'd left his car. The next part of his plans was risky and he wanted to have an escape vehicle close by.
He drove to the hospital and parked near the long term care ward. He eyed the entrance, remembering the last time he’d been there. The first time he’d officially met Peter.
It felt like a hundred of years had passed and simultaneously no time at all.
He headed inside, by passing the nurse’s station which was vacant as per usual. Stiles couldn’t remember a single time he’d visited there that someone had actually been on duty, even as far back as when his mom was a patient.
It didn’t take him long to find the room he needed and when he saw which door the nameplate was on, he had to stifle a snort. Peter’s old room.
He let himself in, closing the door quietly behind him, and sat beside the bed. Alison lay motionless, the covers tucked neatly around her.
“Hi Alison. Long time no see, right? Umm… I bought you an orchid. I’ll put it over here.” He set the orchid down on the small bedside table which already held a jug of water and a book with a page corner folded down. “I don’t know why exactly I came here… well, that’s not right… I do, I just don’t know if I am going to do it.” He picked up the book, wanting to keep his hands busy. “I guess I’m going to read this until I make up my mind.” He turned it over in his hands. “Hmm, bit of an odd choice. I guess this belongs to your dad? Can’t see Scott having this.”
Stiles smoothed out the folded corner and cleared his throat, beginning to read.
“Viens-tu du ciel profond ou sors-tu de l'abîme,
O Beauté? ton regard, infernal et divin,
Verse confusément le bienfait et le crime,
Et l'on peut pour cela te comparer au vin.
Tu contiens dans ton oeil le couchant et l'aurore;
Tu répands des parfums comme un soir orageux;
Tes baisers sont un philtre et ta bouche une amphore
Qui font le héros lâche et l'enfant courageux.”
His voice faltered and he lifted his eyes from the book, looking at Alison’s peaceful face.
“I never meant for you to get hurt. I was angry, angry about what you did but… this wasn’t what I wanted. Jackson says I’m assigning meaning to the actions of a creature of chaos, that how I felt had nothing to do with what happened… but I’m still not sure. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing this. I’m sorry for not stopping it in time. I’m sorry you got dragged into this stupid world… if i’d never taken Scott out that night, maybe none of this would have happened to you. Maybe your dad would have managed to keep you out of things…” He ran his fingers over the words on the page in front of him.
“Sors-tu du gouffre noir ou descends-tu des astres?
Le Destin charmé suit tes jupons comme un chien- ”
“Tu sèmes au hasard la joie et les désastres,
Et tu gouvernes tout et ne réponds de rien.”
Stiles didn’t turn at the interruption, just closed the book and set it down.
“Christopher.”
“Stiles.”
“Slightly odd reading material for the location?”
“Alison likes Baudelaire. The doctors said familiar things could help.” Chris took a seat on the other side of the bed. “Why are you here?”
“Closure. Amends. Call it whatever you like.” He sighed. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I want to tell you some things, explain a few misconceptions. And then…”
“And then?”
“Then I’m going to make you an offer. And you can choose, based on what I told you, what the outcome is.” He lifted his head and met Chris’ cold blue eyes. “Will you listen?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. What do you know about Sparks?”
Chris frowned.
“They’re creatures of magic. Rare, some people think they’re myths or extinct.”
“Do you know how a Spark comes into their power?”
“They can be trained from birth if they’re in the right community. Or it can come out later due to…” he hesitated. “Exposure to the supernatural. Or risk to their lives. But they wouldn’t know how to control it.”
“I don’t know how much you actually know about what happened in your basement. Did you know I was there?” Chris opened his mouth but Stiles continued. “Did you know that your father and his men beat me until nearly every bone was broken? Lashed me? Burned me? Did you know that the only reason it stopped was because I was so weak, it wasn’t fun for them anymore?” He locked eyes with Chris. “Did you know I died that night?”
The sharp inhale was enough of an answer. Stiles managed a weak smile.
“My last thought was please, I don’t want to die. Please let me live. This was after I’d been dragged out into the preserve and left there. I don’t know if it was because I was trying to will myself to stay alive or just bad luck, but that’s where the Nogitsune found me. It was enough to keep me alive, not for long though. It couldn’t heal me quick enough, just kept me clinging on. I guess I should thank you, because if you hadn’t let Erica and Boyd go, I probably would have died again. For good. They helped patch me up, it was enough for the Nogitsune to start making actual repairs instead of just damage control.”
“You didn’t go to the hospital. You came to the warehouse.”
“I did. Because I wasn’t going to let my friends down,” Stiles said with a bitter laugh. “I bore the pain, just like I always did. And then… well, you know what came next.”
“I do.”
“What you don’t know is everything that happened at the end and what followed. After it was gone, I started practicing with my power. I just wanted to keep people safe. That’s all I ever wanted. I thought if I tried, if i got control, I’d stop being the clumsy human with the baseball bat. I’d actually be able to contribute… since no one seemed to consider my research actual help.” Stiles paused, turning the words over in his head before he spoke again. “But of course, as soon as Scott found out about my developing powers, he decided they had to be from the Nogitsune. After all, I wasn’t anything special, I was just Stiles. They had to have come from the one supernatural creature that had taken me over, there couldn’t be another option. And the more I argued, the more he insisted. He became more convinced that the Nogitsune wasn’t really gone, that it had left part of it behind inside of me. It got to the point where I started to believe it. And… well, you know what happens with Sparks and Belief.”
“I do…”
“I can’t say that every trace of that fox is gone. Because my belief created a version of it. It’s half of my power now. I want you to know that and understand it before I make my offer because it might make an easy choice much harder for you.” Chris nodded slowly. “When Alison got… when she got hurt, all I could think was no, don’t let this happen. Stop this. Spark, desperation… Apparently those add up to this.” He gestured to the bed. “Magically induced coma. My spark put her body in a sort of stasis so she’d be able to heal from her injuries without bits shutting down from blood loss and trauma. I only visited her once after everything and I could feel my magic on her. That’s why I was working so hard to grow my power, to learn how to control it. So I could wake her up. But after Scott decided I still had the Nogitsune inside me, I knew he’d never let me near her. And I knew that if he managed to get me into Eichen, no matter how good his intentions were, I would never get out. If I’d managed to do it earlier, it would have just been my Spark at work. I don’t know if you consider my… pseudo Nogitsune side to have tainted that. So the choice is yours. I can remove the magic. Her body is healed, she’ll wake up… maybe not right away, probably will take a few hours while everything sorts itself out. She might have some mild amnesia, trauma response y’know? Or I can leave her, so she won’t have to be touched by the darkness again.”
Chris looked at Alison and took her hand, rubbing his thumb against her palm.
“What will it take,” he said, his voice a whisper. “What do I have to do for you to let Peter stay here? To let him build a pack here? To let him have peace here?”
“How has one wolf captured your loyalty so completely?” Eric murmured.
“He is the only person who truly knows me. Wholly. Entirely. Without fear and without judgement.”
The ending to Obsession reminds me of the ending to Don't Worry Darling. Both have the female lead technically freed from the control of the male partner but neither of them are happy endings.
Obsession is clearer in this, all of Nikki's friends are dead, two by her own hand, she's spent however long stuck in her head witnessing one of her best friends use her body which has also been broken down physically. She's traumatized, injured and I think also suffering from malnutrition (based on her throwing up near the end when confronting Bear). There is no good path for Nikki
Don't Worry Darling is a bit more speculative. Alice wakes up from the Victory Simulation but we're shown that when Jack put her in the simulation she was strapped to the bed, she had an IV, she had those eye things on so she couldn't blink. He was responsible for keeping her hydrated (he's shown with a damp cloth dripping water in her mouth). And when she wakes up, she's still stuck in the bed. Next to a dead Jack. Maybe she'd survive, maybe she'd get free like the wife in Gerald's Game (but we don't know how long she's been there already, how much muscle strength she would have lost), maybe the smell of Jack's body would get someone to find her but how quickly? Before she dies of thirst? And if she does get freed, who knows what her mental state will be after being locked in. It's going to be a struggle to separate reality and fiction from one another. She presumably doesn't have a job anymore, her financial situation is probably screwed since Jack had to pay for the Victory simulation.
Both Nikki and Alice are still trapped. Maybe not in their previous cages, but removing those bars don't matter as much if the cage was in a locked room and the room is still locked.
One thing I love about slice of life teen wolf fics is when they have the relatively normal (for teenage werewolves) pack members and then Peter who is usually somewhere between a Victorian literary villain and a gothic bachelor.
CW: Violence, language and dialogue from the show that might be offensive
We're at the end of season one! The second part of this chapter takes place during the two week window between season 1 main events and the season 1 cliffhanger, as will the next chapter. Chapter twenty two should be the start of the season 2 plot
When Peter’s car pulled up at the Stackhouse residence, Stiles threw himself out of the vehicle before it had come to a full stop. The front door was wide open and the smell of blood was thick in the air. Peter moved to Stiles’ side, trying to step in front of him protectively but the boy sidestepped the wolf and ran into the house.
The first person he saw was Adele. She was lying at the base of the stairs, limbs splayed at unnatural angles. Bruises were already forming on her arms and throat. There was a rust coloured stain on the wall and Stiles could see blood matting her hair. He raced to her side, crouching and checking her pulse. It was weak but there. Up close, he could see more stains on her clothes and numerous cuts. She had fought. Hopefully that would have been enough for Sookie to get away.
Peter followed the sound of a heartbeat into the kitchen. He saw the bloody corpse of Amy and the slumped body of Jason, who had been struck over the head with something. The young man was halfway between conscious and unconscious. His eyes were open but the struggle to maintain them was visible on his face. Peter returned to the hall, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing 911. He quickly relayed the location and the situation, eyes scanning the room for threats.
Jason staggered out of the kitchen, eyes widening as he saw Adele.
“Gran…?” he croaked. Stiles turned to him.
“Jason, I need you to stay here with your gran. Sookie’s out there somewhere with Rene. Peter and I will find her.”
Jason looked uncertain, like he wanted to argue but Peter pressed his phone into the man’s hand.
“Take this, stay on the call with the dispatcher. If anything changes with your grandmother, let them know and they’ll tell you what to do.”
Maybe it was the firm tone, or the unwavering look on Peter’s face, or perhaps it was just that Peter radiated more authority than Stiles did, but whatever it was Jason nodded and knelt beside his gran. Peter gestured for Stiles to follow him outside.
“Can you hear them?” Stiles asked, once they were out of earshot from Jason. Peter cocked his head.
“Two people, that way.” He pointed towards the cemetery. Stiles nodded and they set off.
“You fuckin’ hear me, you filthy fuckin’ cunt? I'm gonna tear out your goddamn throat with my hands and fuck your dead face!” The sound of Rene’s furious voice added speed to Stiles’ legs, terrified he wouldn’t make it in time. Peter was running ahead, drawing closer to the first of the graves.
It was a smart move by Sookie, Stiles thought to himself. She’d clearly been trying to make it to Bill’s house. He didn’t know if the vampire had returned from his tribunal yet, but if he had then he’d be the best person to protect Sookie. And if he hadn’t, Sookie knew where Bill went to ground which would make a good hiding spot.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t made it that far.
Footprints in soft dirt led a short way through the graves before they were obliterated into a mess of scuff marks around a small outbuilding.
Groundskeeper’s cottage? Stiles' mind supplied.
The door was hanging off its hinges, like it had been kicked open. Rene was shouting from inside. Bill was circling the building, a look of frustration on his face. Stiles ignored him, charging into the building with Peter at his side.
“Mind-reading, vampire-fuckin’ freak bitch! You think you're so smart? You smart now?”
Sookie was on the ground amongst broken dusty furniture, Rene on top of her. Peter let out a snarl, face slipping into his beta shift. The noise was enough to draw Rene's focus, half turning. He yelled at the sight, confusion at what he was seeing being overridden by an instinctive fear, hardwired to recognise a predator.
“What the fuck are you? What the fuck?”
Stiles grabbed a splintered table leg and struck out wildly at Rene. He didn't care if he didn't hit him, he just wanted to force him back away from Sookie. It had the desired effect, Rene jerking backwards and onto his feet. He ducked another swing from the leg and lunged for Stiles. Peter intercepted, tossing the man across the room and squaring up in front of him. Rene tried to get back up but as he rose a strange expression crossed his face. He took a half step forward and his legs crumpled, sending him crashing to the floor.
Stiles looked from the man to Sookie, who was sitting up. A pen was in her hand, one he recognised.
“He's paralysed,” Stiles said quietly. Peter, letting his face fall back to normal, gave him a slight smile.
“Kanima venom?” He asked. Stiles nodded, moving to kneel beside Sookie. He carefully capped the pen to prevent the venom from leaking onto someone else.
“Sookie, are you okay? Did he cut you or stab you?”
“No,” she croaked, hoarse from where Rene had strangled her.
“Alright. We called an ambulance, they'll check you out. Peter, are you okay to watch him until the cops get here?” he asked, helping her up.
“Are you sure we want to give him to the police? They did already let him go… and I'm sure there are a lot of wild animals around here.”
“The police are almost to the house,” Bill called from outside.
“Bill?” Sookie pulled away and limped to the door.
“Sookie,” Bill wrapped his arms around her the moment she was across the threshold. Peter raised an eyebrow and muttered ‘Sookeh’ under his breath in a very good impression of Bill's accent. Stiles bit his lip, pushing down a laugh.
“Hopefully the ambulance will be with them,” Stiles said, stepping outside. “Sookie, your gran… she was pretty badly hurt. Jason's with her, but… you should probably go wait with her”
Sookie nodded, face pale beneath the blossoming bruises. She left Bill's side and headed for the house. The vampire lingered, turning to look at Stiles and Peter, who had come to the doorway.
“You seem to have a habit of showing up around Sookie,” Bill said, eyes on Stiles.
“It's called friendship. You should try it sometime, might help you with that wooden stake you've got up your butt”
“I'm not so sure someone who fraternizes with Eric Northman is someone I want popping up in Sookie's life.”
“Well that's really up to her isn't it? And I can assure you, my extra curriculars have no bearing on my relationship with Sookie. I have her best interests at heart… can you say the same?”
Bill’s lip curled into something reminiscent of a snarl but Peter cleared his throat before the vampire could do anything more.
“Mr Compton, I suggest you take a step back. You're not the only one with fangs.”
“I thought it smelt like wet dog around here,” Bill said with a scowl. “I'm far older than you, you should show some respect”
“My respect is reserved for those who earn it. Not for southern fried vampires who haven't updated their wardrobe in the last fifty years.” Peter looked up at the sky. “You should run along. Dawn's coming and I'd hate to see you get a sunburn.”
Bill’s scowl grew but he stalked off after Sookie. Stiles waited until he was a decent distance away before looking at Peter.
“When's dawn?”
“In a few hours. I just wanted to get rid of him.”
“Understandable. He has the personality of wet cardboard.”
Stiles glanced back into the little house. “How are we going to explain him suddenly being paralysed?”
“I get the feeling they won't want to look too closely, given that the only reason he was able to kill another woman was because they released him. Besides, the paralysis should wear off by the time they get him to the station and Kanima venom won't come up on any standard test they try.”
Sheriff Dearborne approached, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
“Stiles, Mr Hale. Is Mr Lenier inside?”
“Yes. You might need someone else to help you get him to your car,” Stiles told him.
“Is he actually going to stay in jail this time?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised.
“Yes. We have multiple statements and Arlene brought in some items she found that belonged to Rene. They support the information Sookie provided, which was verified by a fax from another precinct… the fax was overlooked by Office Bellefleur. We have now suspended him for his conduct.”
Sheriff Dearborne took their statement, although Stiles was barely paying attention. His focus was on the ambulance parked by the Stackhouse home, quietly hoping that Adele was going to be okay, that the paramedics had made it there in time.
Once the sheriff had finished asking his questions, Stiles couldn't wait any longer.
“Are Adele and Jason okay?”
“The paramedics say Jason has a mild concussion. Mrs Stackhouse… we're not sure.”
“Can we go…?” Stiles gestured towards the ambulance. The Sheriff nodded. Stiles glanced at Peter who nodded once, silently communicating that he’d stay near Rene until he was safely secured.
Stiles jogged to the house. The paramedics had finished loading Adele into the ambulance.
“One of you can ride with us, the other will need to make their own way,” a woman was saying to Sookie. The two siblings looked at one another, clearly conflicted.
“Jason, you’re concussed. You can’t drive,” Sookie said.
“Neither of you are in a fit state to drive,” Stiles interjected. “And honestly, as much as you want to be with your gran, it’s probably better if I give you both a ride to the hospital instead.”
Jason looked like he wanted to argue and Sookie seemed reluctant, but they both conceded when the paramedic made an impatient noise.
Stiles led the siblings to Peter’s car. A moment later, the wolf joined them as though summoned by the prospect of someone else driving his vehicle.
They loaded up and followed after the ambulance. The car was near silent, punctuated by Sookie’s soft whimpers and the occasional quiet groan from Jason.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Stiles said after a while. “But i’ve been in your position. You’re in pain, adrenaline is spiked, being in a high pressure environment like an ambulance with someone you love just… you end up catastrophising and that makes it harder on the medics.”
Neither of them replied and eventually he stopped waiting for them to.
The days that followed were exhausting. With Amy dead, Sookie at the hospital with her gran and Arlene struggling to reconcile the man she'd loved with the man he actually was, Stiles found himself covering a lot of extra work at the bar. Both Sookie and Arlene did come in occasionally but it was clear their head was elsewhere. It didn't help that the gossips kept bringing up Rene, usually triggering tears from the redhead. He had also been helping in other ways, making sure there was food available for Sookie and Jason, cleaning up the blood once the police had finished with it, and providing lifts to the hospital.
He finally had a night off and as much as he wanted to spend it cuddled up in bed, enjoying one of the last days before Peter headed back to Vegas on his alpha hunt, he had something he needed to do. He’d been trying to put it off as long as possible, but after a rather pointed message from Eric he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.
Stiles got home and let himself in. He’d texted Peter earlier to let him know about the evening plans and the wolf was sat on the couch waiting for him, possessing a casual yet posed quality.
“Give me five minutes to get changed,” Stiles told him.
“Take your time. You smell like grease and stress.”
“Rude. But I can’t take too long, Lafayette is going to meet us there.”
“Go shower, I’ll lay some clothes out for you.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes.
“You went shopping didn't you?”
“Yes. I did. Now, shower.”
He dutifully headed to the shower, taking his time to rinse off the smell of the bar. Once he was finished, he went to the clothes Peter had left for him. He didn’t realise anything was wrong with them until he had, after a bit of a struggle, got the trousers on.
“Peter, these pants are too small!”
The wolf poked his head in, running his eyes over Stiles.
“No they’re not, they’re perfectly sized.”
“I can’t breathe!”
“You can talk, so you can breathe.”
“Yeah but I don’t think I’ll be able to have children after wearing these.”
“You’ll be fine. Now, put your shirt on.”
“I'm not sure you can legally call this a shirt…” Stiles muttered. “It's transparent!”
“No it's not.” Peter folded his arms and stared until Stiles pulled it on. He then reached over and undid the first few buttons, adjusting the fabric to reveal more of his neck and collarbone. “Now, look”
Stiles looked in the mirror. Tight black trousers and a sheer black shirt with short sleeves and a few deep red flowers embroidered on it. He had to admit, it looked good against the pale skin on show. There was a lot of it.
“Are you trying to get me eaten? Going to a vampire bar looking like this, I might as well be sprawled on a serving platter.”
“Well, I have to make sure your vampire is up to protecting you.”
“And this is how you're going to test that?”
Peter gave him one of those smiles with just a bit too many teeth involved, the kind that would make people who didn't know him (and some of the ones who did) take a step back.
“Alright, come on then. Let's get this over with.”
By the time they got to Fangtasia, Lafayette was already there. He was sitting in his car looking anxious, but reluctantly got out when Peter and Stiles approached. Despite his nerves, he gave them both an appreciative look.
“Ohh Stiles, you out here lookin’ all pornilicious, and you walkin’ up with this sex on a stick white boy? Must be my lucky night”
“Lafayette, this is Peter.”
“Where can I get one?” Lafayette asked, giving Peter another look.
“One and only sweetheart,” Peter said with a wink. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He guided the pair towards the club. As they neared the door, Stiles stepped to the front of their trio. Pam was at the door and she waved them past the line much to the annoyance of the patrons waiting outside.
“Stiles, always a pleasure. Did you finally develop a sense of taste?”
“This is all Peter’s handiwork I’m afraid.”
Pam’s eyes flicked to Peter, narrowing slightly as she looked him over. Eventually she nodded and switched her focus to Lafayette.
“Hmm,” was all she said, before gesturing for them to enter.
The three of them went into the club. Eric was on the stage, reclining on his throne looking bored as usual. Stiles inclined his head slightly and then led Lafayette to a booth in the corner while Peter went to get them drinks. It was easy to tell who was a vampire by how they reacted to the wolf’s presence, but none of them did anything more than give him a look of disgust. Lafayette was looking nervous, his usually cool demeanour fracturing at the edges the longer he sat there.
“It’ll be okay,” Stiles told him quietly. “If you hadn’t come in on your own, they would have gone after you and that would have been much worse.”
A young redheaded woman approached, leaning against the table.
“Hey cutie,” she said to Stiles. “Dance with me?”
“I’m comfy here,” he told her. She scowled, opening her mouth to speak.
“He’s spoken for Jessica,” Eric said, sliding into the booth beside Stiles. He slung his arm across the back of the seat, fingers brushing the boy’s shoulder. The redhead, Jessica, looked at Lafayette.
“What about you?”
“You’s barking up the wrong tree there.”
Jessica pouted.
“No one lets me have any fun.”
“Jessica, go wait in my office,” Eric told her firmly. She stomped her foot and stalked off.
“Friend of yours?” Stiles asked, watching her go.
“Bill’s progeny.”
“And why isn’t she with Bill?”
“I’m wondering that more each day…” Eric turned his gaze to Lafayette. “Stiles was right. If you hadn’t come to us, we would have come for you.” He flashed a sharp smile.
There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Eric looked up to see Peter standing there.
“Mr Northman, you’re in my seat.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t let animals on the furniture.”
“Dog jokes? How original.”
Lafayette raised an eyebrow at Stiles who pulled a ‘don’t ask’ face in response.
“Listen,” Lafayette said. “I just wanna get this over with and go. Whatever yous got goin’ on, i don’t want no part of.”
“Fine. Stiles, Lafayette, please follow me. Mr Hale, i’ll fetch you when we’re done. Try not to chew the seat cushions.”
Peter rolled his eyes, waited for the three of them to get up before making himself comfortable. Stiles gently brushed his hand against the wolf’s arm before following Eric to the office.
Jessica was inside, looking bored and irritated. She perked up a little at the sight of them and rose to intercept Stiles.
“You smell… strange.” Her fangs dropped, her eyes hungry. Stiles didn’t react.
“If you bite me,” he told her, “I will bite you back. Harder.”
She laughed.
“As if.”
Lafayette and Eric were sat at the desk and Stiles peered round the girl to catch Eric’s eye.
“Eric?” he said softly, asking for permission.
“Jessica, behave yourself. Go get me a drink from the bar.”
“URGH! You’re such a dick, just like Bill!”
She stormed off, Pam entering as she left and headed to stand behind Eric. Stiles rolled his eyes and sat on the sofa. Eric eyed Lafayette contemplatively. The cook shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze. The silence was getting to him, and he eventually broke.
“I don't know what it is you wanna know, but point me in the direction, and I give to you.”
“I've seen your website. It's quite, low rent. But your clients… they’re loyal. Enough to miss you if you disappeared, enough to wonder if you’d be coming back,” Eric said.
“Look, I'm here because of the V, right? How'bout I give you the names of everybody I ever sold to?”
“And all this time I thought prostitutes were good at keeping secrets,” Pam said, smirking.
“Don't get it twisted, honeycomb, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whole bunch of other sh*t after that. But a hooker, dead last. So if I got even a Jew at an al Qaeda pep rally shot at getting my black ass up out this motherfucker, I'm taking it. Now, what you wanna know?
“The vampire you had your little arrangement with. Eddie Gauthier. What do you know about what happened to him?”
“Only what i’ve been told. Last time I saw him he was doing real good. Then I went to his house, the door was open and he was gone.”
“You know who took him?”
“I mean I ain't sure exactly, I know who was involved, don’t know which one of them did it.”
“That's not very forthcoming of you”
“Jason Stackhouse. And his girlfriend, Amy. She was a… real kooky type. But smart, smarter than Jason.”
“And when you found out what happened?”
“I told Stiles. He tried to warn me, i didn’t listen. I though he could help. He asked me if I wanted him to get Eddie out of where he was, asked if i knew the risks.”
“You did?”
“Yeah…”
“This one action is the sole reason you are alive Lafayette. Eddie vouched for your character, although the admission of one law breaking love sick fledgling was not exactly compelling evidence. Stiles however… his opinion of you I hold slightly higher.” Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Not enough to excuse your actions though.”
Stiles straightened in his seat, tensed in case Eric made a move to hurt Lafayette. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do, given that he was on Eric’s territory in a building full of vampires, but he’d convinced Lafayette to come there and any blood that spilled would be his fault.
“I want a list of every client, every contact, everyone you know that is connected to the purchase or selling of V,” Eric said firmly. “In addition, you stop selling and you will answer some questions I have. I understand dealers of vampire blood sometimes trade product with one another across state lines. Any buyers in the Dallas area?”
“One. He never gave me his name though. I have an e-mail address. [email protected]”
“A friend of mine in the Dallas area, his name is Godric, has gone missing. Now, while the circumstances of his disappearance are unclear, it stands to reason his blood would be very valuable, as he's over twice my age and ten times the vampire I will ever be.”
Stiles frowned, picking up the emotion seeping out of the vampire. Love, fear, sorrow. He’d rarely felt anything but complete control from Eric.
“Eric, you don't do humble well,” Pam said.
“I was not being humble. This happens to be true.” Eric said, sharply. “Your associate, this "pussylover". Has he or she mentioned any new product coming on the market?”
“No, no. And I would tell you. You know that.”
“Stiles? Is he telling the truth?” The two vampires pinned him under their unflinching gaze. Stiles looked at Lafayette. Fear, but no deception.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Eric slid a notebook across the desk. “Names. Emails. Numbers. Every detail you have.”
Lafayette got out his phone and started to copy down information. Eric and Pam didn’t stop staring at him as he did so and Stiles could see the writing getting messier in his hurry to get away from them.
“There.”
“Thank you Lafayette. We’ll be keeping an eye on you.” Eric tucked the pad away and got up. “Stiles, i’ll be back in a moment with your… friend. Wait here.”
Pam, Eric and Lafayette left, leaving Stiles alone in the room. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to push down the exhaustion.
The office door creaked and clicked shut. Quiet footsteps moved towards the couch and the smell of floral perfume reached his nostrils. Stiles’ eyes shot open just as sharp fangs grazed his skin.
It's been too hot to do anything more than starfish on the bed under a fan and groan incoherently but I'm finally getting some writing done! And I get to do a verbal pissing contest between Eric and Peter. Shall I see how many dog jokes can I fit in to one conversation? Or is Eric too dignified for more than one?
Eric *toying with Stiles' shirt collar*
Peter: You're in my seat
Eric: I'm sorry, we don't let dogs on the furniture.
Heya Grimm! How about a one-shot of taking the boys to an amusement park?
Hey!! 💖
Omg yes—this sounds so fun. The chaos potential is unmatched.
Here you go!💌
Demon Drop (And Other Attractions)
Summary: You planned a chill, low-stakes day at the amusement park. Then you remembered: your demon roommates have no chill. Between ride chaos, haunted house trauma, and one destroyed animatronic bride—you might not survive the fun. But you’ve never laughed this much in your life.
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You were only trying to do something nice.
A normal day. A human day. One (1) outing where your demon idol roommates wouldn’t destroy a grocery store or trigger magical alarms at 7-Elevens.
An amusement park seemed like a safe bet.
You were wrong.
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First is Abby.
“Is it supposed to rattle like that?” you ask, watching a coaster do a full inversion.
Abby grins. “It’s better if it does.”
Fifteen minutes later he’s already on his third lap, arms raised, screaming not in fear but joy, like a golden retriever possessed by the spirit of extreme sports.
“Again!” he yells, face lit up. “That one had airtime! I got LIFT!”
You lose count of how many strangers high-five him in line.
He offers you a churro between laps.
“I got you,” he says, holding it up like a medal. “You kept the map. We make a good team.”
You eat the churro.
You agree.
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Jinu brings a color-coded itinerary.
No one follows it.
Romance keeps wandering. Baby vanishes into every food stall. Mystery steps into the mirror maze and doesn’t come back for twenty minutes.
By 2pm, Jinu is holding six maps and sighing.
“We were supposed to be at the bumper cars by now.”
“We’re at the emotional bumper cars,” Romance says from behind a glitter slushie.
Eventually, Jinu gives up and agrees to ride the carousel with you.
You pick a white tiger. He picks a deer. You try not to laugh when it starts spinning and he visibly regrets everything.
“It’s going faster than I thought,” he mutters.
“You’re fine.”
“It’s not dignified.”
You hand him your sunglasses.
“Now it is.”
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You turn around for five minutes.
When you look back, Baby is surrounded by five prize plushies and has a sixth slung over his shoulder like a trophy.
“How did you—”
“I hit the bottle pyramid three times.”
“In a row?”
“Blindfolded.”
He shrugs. “You wanted a normal day. This is me behaving.”
You stare at the pile of stuffed animals.
He picks the ugliest one (a bright yellow crocodile with lopsided eyes) and holds it out to you.
“This one’s yours,” he says. “It looks like it bites.”
“Is that… a compliment?”
“Obviously.”
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You lose track of Romance around the snack stands.
He reappears forty-five minutes later, covered in body glitter, with a flower crown and two extra wristbands that definitely didn’t come from the park.
“Did you go to a different event?”
“It found me.”
He spins, throwing a wink over his shoulder.
“Also I won a dance battle.”
“Romance, we were in line for the log flume.”
“You could’ve called.”
You did. Four times.
“I was in the moment,” he says, dramatically sipping a pink lemonade. “Also I think someone named Skylar wants to start a fan club.”
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You hand Mystery a stick of cotton candy.
He pokes it once. Sniffs it. Takes a small bite like he’s testing a potion.
Five minutes later he’s on a bench, covered in blue sugar, absolutely zoning out with a plush bat in his lap and glitter on his cheek.
You sit beside him.
“Having fun?”
He nods. Doesn’t say a word.
Later, when everyone’s taking a photo at the Ferris wheel, he holds the plush bat out next to his face.
The bat is also wearing sunglasses.
No one knows where they came from.
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You should’ve known better.
But the line was short. The sign was flashing. The guy in the fake vampire makeup was really convincing.
And when Baby raised one eyebrow and said, “Scared?” you had to prove a point.
So now you’re here.
In a dimly lit hallway. Behind a curtain made of bones. Between five demons. And at least three terrible choices.
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It starts normal.
A bit of fake thunder. Fog machines. Plastic cobwebs.
Jinu is focused. He's whispering tactical observations like it's a recon mission.
“There’s a trip wire at the corner. Pressure plates on the floor. Watch your step.”
“It’s a haunted house, not a dungeon,” you whisper back.
“You say that now.”
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Abby’s too tall and keeps ducking through archways. At one point he apologizes to a hanging skeleton prop for bumping into it.
“My bad, bro.”
Then the first jump scare happens—a spring-loaded clown lunges from the wall.
Romance shrieks.
Mystery laughs.
Not a normal laugh.
A low, echoing, demonic giggle like something just amused the darkness itself.
“That’s worse than the clown,” Abby mutters.
Romance is clinging to your arm now.
“I didn’t scream,” he lies.
“I was here,” you reply.
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You reach a flickering hallway with mirrors on both sides.
Mystery walks into one like a ghost gliding through space.
Jinu freezes.
“He’s not supposed to be able to do that.”
“Is he part of the attraction now?” Baby asks.
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Then come the animatronics.
Rotting ghouls, twitchy puppets, fake blood. Cheap, but effective.
Until one lunges too fast and nearly smacks you in the face.
You flinch.
And Baby hisses.
Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Just a soft growl under his breath. His eyes flick gold.
And then he punches the animatronic so hard its head spins sideways.
The sound echoes through the hallway like a thunderclap.
Jinu: “Baby.”
Abby: “Dude.”
Romance: “Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”
“It touched you,” Baby mutters.
“It’s foam,” you whisper.
“It touched you.”
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By the time you reach the last corridor—the one with the fog and the ominous red light—Jinu’s reassessed the situation.
“This is fine,” he mutters. “This is normal. People do this for fun.”
“You’re gripping my sleeve,” you point out.
“I’m anchoring.”
Romance is fully clinging to Abby now. “If something crawls out of the floor, I’m flipping over a railing.”
Mystery reappears from above, dropping in from a fake attic crawlspace like a polite cryptid.
“It’s looping,” he says calmly. “We’ve passed this hallway three times.”
“...Are we cursed?” you ask.
“Temporarily,” he replies.
----------------------------------
The finale?
A haunted bride drops from the ceiling on a wire pulley with a piercing shriek.
Baby growls again.
Mystery bows to her.
Romance screams for real.
Abby—bless him—tries to catch her.
“Let her fall with dignity,” Jinu yells, yanking him back.
----------------------------------
You all stumble out into daylight like survivors.
Your group photo from the ride is horrifying:
Romance is clutching your hoodie like a Victorian child
Abby is mid-reach with wild eyes
Jinu looks like he’s solving an exorcism
Mystery isn’t visible (but the fog in the corner might be him)
Baby is baring his teeth at the camera
And you’re in the middle, laughing so hard you’re crying
You buy the photo.
You’re framing the photo.
And the next time Baby tries to act cool, you just raise your eyebrows and say:
“Don’t punch the bride this time.”
He glares.
Then grins.
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Later
The sun’s setting. The park’s starting to empty. But the Saja Boys are very much not done being menaces to peace and reason.
You’re all crammed into a corner food court table with one giant funnel cake, three forks, and absolutely no rules.
Powdered sugar is everywhere.
Baby’s licking it off his fingers. Jinu is holding napkins like a shield. Romance is sipping soda with the haunted house photo on the table like it’s court evidence.
And that’s when you casually say:
“Okay, but who screamed the loudest?”
The table goes silent.
Jinu clears his throat. “Well, I didn’t scream.”
“You squeaked,” Baby says without looking up.
“It was reflexive exhale panic, not a squeak.”
“Sounded like a teakettle.”
Romance raises a hand. “I think we can all agree Abby screamed the loudest.”
“I said ‘whoa’ very loudly!” Abby defends. “For safety!”
“You tried to catch the animatronic bride,” Jinu mutters.
“I’m polite!”
Mystery, finally breaking his silence, calmly sets a napkin down.
“The answer,” he says, “is Romance.”
Romance gasps like you accused him of high treason. “Me?!”
“We have proof,” Baby says, holding up the ride photo.
Romance squints. “That doesn’t show sound.”
“It shows fear,” you say gently.
He slaps a hand over his heart. “I was performing. It was method acting.”
“You were trying to climb me like a tree,” Abby reminds him.
----------------------------------
Eventually, the debate cools down. Mystery wins by silent vote. You all agree to disagree on whether Jinu squeaked or “whimpered in tactical retreat.”
Summary: You decide it’s time to teach the Saja Boys how to use smartphones. This turns out to be the worst mistake you’ve ever made. From autocorrect disasters to weaponized selfies, haunted filters, group chat crimes, and Baby’s terrifying rise in Subway Surfers—your phone will never be safe again.
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Step 1: The Basics
You were five minutes into the tutorial and already considering throwing the entire group chat idea off the roof.
“Okay,” you said, with the voice of someone who had absolutely explained this before, “to unlock the phone, you swipe up from the bottom. Just one smooth motion with your thumb. Like this.”
You demonstrated. The lock screen vanished. Easy.
Jinu leaned forward, brows furrowed like you’d just performed a complicated summoning ritual.
“Wait, that’s it?” he asked, suspicious.
“That’s it,” you said.
Jinu took his phone like it was a bomb that might detonate. He placed his thumb gently against the screen.
Nothing.
He tried again. Slower.
Still nothing.
“It doesn’t recognize me,” he said darkly. “This is personal.”
“You have to swipe, not pat it,” you said, trying not to laugh.
“I am swiping,” he said, now dragging his whole palm across the screen like he was trying to exorcise it.
Baby peeked over his shoulder. “You’re caressing it like a ghost bride.”
“I don’t know what that means!”
Abby reached for his phone. “I’ll try!”
You nodded, relieved. “Okay, see if you can—”
Abby pressed so hard his knuckle tapped the SOS emergency screen.
You launched forward. “NOPE nope nope— okay, we’re exiting that—great.”
Abby blinked. “Why is it asking if I need the authorities?”
“Because the phone thinks you’re being kidnapped.”
Romance, already lounging on the couch, casually unlocked his screen in a smooth, practiced flick. “I like the phone,” he purred. “It understands me.”
“I hate that it does,” Jinu muttered.
You turned to Mystery. “You wanna give it a go?”
Mystery didn’t answer. He was already holding his phone upside-down, silently trying to will it open with pure shadow energy.
“…That’s not how it works,” you said gently.
He looked at you. Blinked once. Then flipped the phone around and unlocked it with a single swipe.
“…Did you just—?”
He shrugged. “I observed.”
You turned to Baby.
He stared down at his phone, unmoving.
“You okay there?”
He slowly poked the screen.
Once.
With his index finger.
Like it might bite him.
Nothing happened.
He looked up at you.
“It’s broken.”
“It’s not broken, Baby. You just have to touch it.”
“I did touch it.”
“With the enthusiasm of a dying slug!”
He poked it again. It lit up—briefly—then timed out.
“I don’t trust it,” he said.
Romance threw his head back laughing. “He’s scared of a rectangle.”
Baby snapped, “You’re scared of commitment.”
You raised both hands. “Okay! Let’s pause and try this again. Together.”
Jinu sighed. Abby flexed. Mystery stared. Romance winked at the lock screen. Baby poked it like it insulted his mother.
You were starting to understand why every ancient text warned against summoning multiple demons at once.
----------------------------------------------
Step 1.5: Autocorrect Betrayal
“You have to text clearly,” you said, leaning over Jinu’s shoulder as he stared down at the messaging app like it had just challenged him to single combat.
“I am texting clearly,” he said, slowly jabbing the letters one by one with his index finger.
You glanced at the message he’d typed:
“Thank you for your time. We will make the necessary preparations to… consume you.”
“…Okay,” you said gently, “so you meant to say ‘confirm’ that, not ‘consume,’ right?”
He froze. “…Did I not?”
“No.”
Romance, from across the room: “Honestly, it’s more efficient that way.”
Jinu immediately began mashing the backspace button with growing panic. “Why would the phone assume ‘consume?’ What kind of human interactions is it basing that on?”
“It’s predictive text,” you said. “It learns how you talk over time.”
“Oh,” Mystery said from the floor, peeking up over the back of the couch, “then we’re doomed.”
You turned to Abby. “You okay with yours?”
He held up his phone proudly.
“hi this is Abby i would like to no if u do the meats pizza with the the cheese and also the onions thank you”
“…You know what? That’s actually impressive.”
“I watched three TikToks about phone etiquette,” he said.
Romance leaned over your shoulder. “Let me try.”
You handed him your phone. Mistake.
In five seconds, he had opened Messages, typed “So are you up or just emotionally unavailable? 😏” and nearly sent it to your grandma.
“STOP.”
“You have so many contacts,” he said, impressed. “Who is ‘Work Dentist’?”
“I don’t even know anymore,” you muttered, snatching your phone back.
Meanwhile, Baby sat in the corner, hunched over his phone. Silent. Focused. His brows drawn together in deep concentration.
“Baby?” you asked. “You texting?”
He nodded. “Practicing.”
You leaned over to peek.
He was texting you. From across the room.
🧍
🧍
🧍 “The meat witch is watching me.”
You: “…What?”
“Autocorrect,” he said solemnly. “I meant ‘microwave.’”
----------------------------------------------
Five minutes later, Mystery handed you his phone. He had typed a single, cryptic sentence in his notes app:
“The cheese knows what I’ve done.”
You blinked. “Did you mean to type this?”
He stared at you blankly. “No.”
“…Do you regret typing this?”
He paused.
“No.”
You ended the lesson there, mostly because Abby accidentally voice-texted “SEND NUDES” to the pizza place while trying to ask about extra mushrooms.
To their credit, the pizza place responded,
“No, but we do have breadsticks.”
And that’s how you earned a permanent note in their system labeled: “Do not engage with chaos group.”
----------------------------------------------
Step 2: Group Chat Setup
You created the group chat out of necessity, not optimism.
After thirty minutes of individually texting everyone to remind them not to microwave metal (again), you decided enough was enough.
One thread. One chat. One place for them to scream into the digital void.
It should have been easy.
It wasn’t.
----------------------------------------------
You started it simply.
You: “Hi. This is the new group chat. Be normal.”
Jinu immediately replied:
Jinu: “What is the appropriate etiquette for tone and punctuation?”
Romance: “Hot take: let’s call this chat ‘Thirst Circle 💋’”
You: “NO.”
Romance: “Sorry, that was for my other group.”
Abby: “Can it be called MUSCLE UNITY 💪🔥”
Baby: “call it SQUAD”
You: “You know what? Abby, you name it.”
Big mistake.
Two seconds later, the group was officially labeled:
“SQUAD, BUT MAKE IT DEMONIC 😈🔥🔥🔥🧍”
“You added the little standing guy,” you said, staring at Baby.
He shrugged. “He’s the mascot.”
“Of what?!”
----------------------------------------------
The chaos spiraled quickly.
Romance kept changing the name every five minutes:
“Thirst Circle 💋”
“Chaos Coven 🌶️”
“Twerk Coven 🔥🧎”
“Oh god Jinu saw this one hold on—”
You eventually restricted nickname permissions.
Mystery renamed himself in the chat to “.”
Just a period. Nothing more.
“Are you trying to be ominous?” you asked.
“I am ominous,” he replied.
Abby added a profile pic of his bicep. You didn’t ask where the lighting came from, but it was suspiciously professional.
Jinu’s picture was a picture of a textbook. Literally just… a textbook.
“Do I need a face photo?” he asked. “Is that expected for group bonding?”
“No,” you said. “But maybe something that’s not a copyright-free image of a law journal.”
He nodded seriously. “Understood.”
(He changed it to a picture of a tree. You let him have it.)
----------------------------------------------
Pinned Message: You eventually pinned a message that read:
“🛑 NO threatening anyone via emoji
✅ Be respectful
❌ DO NOT summon things in here
✅ No baby photos of each other without permission
❌ No hexes
❌ No shirtless mirror pics before 10am”
Romance reacted to it with a heart.
Mystery reacted with a skull.
Baby sent 🧍 again.
You gave up and muted the chat.
For ten minutes.
Until Abby sent:
Abby: “Help. My phone just told me to call ‘Mommy.’ I don’t know who that is. Is that you??”
----------------------------------------------
Step 3: Emojis and Overuse Thereof
You introduced emojis because it seemed harmless.
A fun way to help the boys express themselves, you thought. Little images. Harmless shapes. Smiley faces. What could possibly go wrong?
Answer: everything.
----------------------------------------------
It started innocently.
“So emojis are basically tone indicators,” you explained, holding up your phone. “You know, smiley faces for happy messages, hearts for affection—”
“Visual emotion markers,” Jinu repeated, squinting like he was studying scripture.
“Right,” you said. “Just… don’t overdo it.”
----------------------------------------------
Abby immediately overdid it.
He typed like he was trying to summon an emoji-based deity.
“We need more rice 🍚🍚🍚🔥🔥💪💪💪🙏🫶💥💥💥‼️‼️‼️”
You blinked. “That’s for rice?”
“It’s a food emergency,” he said gravely.
You opened another text.
“Bathroom’s out of soap 🚿😔🧼🧼🧼🧼💀💀🔥🔥🔥🔥🧻🧻”
You stared. “Is the fire necessary?”
“Yes,” he said. “For emphasis.”
----------------------------------------------
Jinu, on the other hand, resisted entirely.
“Language exists for clarity,” he argued. “Icons only encourage confusion.”
You nodded. “Fair.”
Later that day, he sent:
“I’ve stabilized the mirror rune. 🙂”
You: “...Are you mad or happy?”
Jinu: “The smile is neutral.”
You: “No it’s not. It’s threatening.”
Jinu: “Then I’ll remove it.”
“I’ve stabilized the mirror rune.”
You: “That’s worse.”
He added a thumbs-up.
You blocked him for five minutes.
----------------------------------------------
Romance discovered the peach emoji and hasn’t looked back since.
“Are you free tonight? 🍑💦👀”
You: “Romance.”
“Need help folding laundry? 🍑👕🛏️😉”
You: “Romance.”
“Do we have milk? 🥛🍑🥛🍑”
You: “I’M BEGGING YOU.”
He winked at you in person, then changed his contact name to “Certified 🍑 User.”
----------------------------------------------
Mystery uses emojis like divination tools.
He never sends a full sentence. Just cryptic clusters of unrelated chaos.
🦷🌕🧃📉
“This is what my tea tastes like,” he explained once.
Another time:
“Abby stole my socks 🧦🦴🧼🕳️”
You: “That tells me nothing.”
Mystery: “Then it’s working.”
----------------------------------------------
And Baby…
Baby uses one emoji.
🧍
That’s it.
That’s the emoji.
He texts it at all hours, with no context.
🧍
🧍🧍
🧍(threatening)
You once tried to ask if he wanted food. He replied:
🧍🍖🧍💥🧍🧍🧍
You’re 90% sure he started a war in emoji form.
----------------------------------------------
Eventually, you sent a group message:
“New rule: Limit yourselves to 3 emojis per message.”
Romance responded:
“But I’m 4 emojis deep in my feelings 🥺🍑💘😢”
Mystery replied with:
🕯️🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍
Baby just sent 19 🧍 in a row.
You considered deleting the group chat.
And maybe the internet.
And yourself.
----------------------------------------------
Step 4: Photos and Selfies
Introducing the boys to the camera app should’ve been easy.
You were wrong.
----------------------------------------------
You: “Okay, this is the camera. Tap to take a photo. Swipe left for video. Front-facing camera is—”
Abby: “Can it capture velocity?”
You: “No. This isn’t an anime opening.”
Romance: click (He just took a photo of you. With flash.)
You: “STOP THAT.”
----------------------------------------------
You sent a message in the group chat:
You: “Send one (1) normal selfie. No chaos.”
That was your second mistake.
----------------------------------------------
Abby: Sends a perfectly lit bicep pic with dramatic shadows. Caption: “strong angle 💪🔥”
You: “Okay, but maybe include your face?”
Abby: “Bicep is face.”
You: “It is not.”
----------------------------------------------
Romance: Sends five photos. One with a rose between his teeth. Another shirtless. One suspiciously filtered to look like oil paint.
Romance: “Thoughts? Be honest.”
You: “You’re holding a bottle of olive oil like it’s wine.”
Romance: “Because I’m smooth, rich, and good on everything.”
Jinu: “That was vile.”
----------------------------------------------
Jinu: Sends a completely blurry image.
You: “What is this?”
Jinu: “It was supposed to be Mystery.”
You: “There’s nothing in this photo.”
Jinu: “Exactly.”
(He later sent a photo of a fire extinguisher labeled “safety.”)
----------------------------------------------
Mystery: Sends a photo of a crumpled sock in sunlight. Caption: “quiet warmth.”
You: “Do you even take selfies?”
Mystery: “This is me.”
You didn’t respond. You just… sat with that.
----------------------------------------------
Baby: Sends 36 rapid photos of his own forehead.
You: “What are you doing.”
Baby: “Watching myself blink in slow motion.”
You: “I’m deleting your camera app.”
He responds with 7 🧍 emojis and a grainy picture of his eye.
----------------------------------------------
You tried once—once—to take a group selfie.
It went like this:
Abby flexed at the last second.
Romance duck-faced and winked.
Jinu blinked mid-shot.
Mystery wasn’t visible in the photo at all.
Baby flipped the camera off.
You didn’t delete it.
It’s now the banner for the group chat.
And you titled it:
“New Phone, Who Dis? 📱🔥🧍”
----------------------------------------------
Step 4.5: The Filter Spiral
It all started when you showed them how to swipe for filters.
Just a casual, innocent, “Look, this one gives you cat ears!”
And then the world ended.
----------------------------------------------
Romance immediately fell down the rabbit hole like it owed him rent.
You caught him posing under a hanging plant for “natural light,” his phone balanced on a cup of ramen, glitter filter turned all the way up.
“Do I look… tragically divine?” he asked.
You didn’t answer. You were too distracted by the sparkle trails around his head and the fake beauty mark the app gave him.
Abby hovered behind him, whispering, “You look soft. Like a marshmallow. But powerful.”
Then he downloaded the app too.
Within ten minutes, Abby had discovered the “rainbow lens flare” filter and declared it “spiritually honest.”
Every time he took a picture, he said something like:
“I feel like this light represents my soul.”
“This glow is who I want to become.”
You weren’t going to argue. His teeth sparkled when he smiled.
----------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, Jinu refused. Flat-out.
He said filters were “a distortion of digital identity and emotional clarity.”
Five minutes later, Romance snapped a stealth shot of Jinu using the “soft contour + sparkle eyes” filter—and it turned out absurdly flattering.
Everyone went silent.
Jinu stared at the screen.
“…I look ethereal,” he whispered.
You tried to stop him before he downloaded a photo editing app.
You failed.
----------------------------------------------
Baby found one filter. Just one.
The one that made his eyes glow red and added anime speed lines.
He used it once.
Then again.
Then in every photo, video, and mirror reflection from that moment on.
You tried to talk him out of it.
He sent you a Boomerang of himself blinking with red eyes and the caption:
“🧍🔥💢🧍🔥💢🧍”
----------------------------------------------
Mystery didn’t speak. He just quietly applied the glitch filter to a selfie.
The result was… unsettling.
His face flickered, half-faded, the background looped into static. You blinked and it was gone.
Next, he took a video using the “face disappear” filter.
Caption: “Finally.”
You asked if he was okay.
He sent back a skull emoji and vanished behind a potted plant.
----------------------------------------------
Eventually, you opened the group chat and saw this string of messages:
Abby: “LOOK AT MY LIGHT BEAMS 🌈💪💫”
Romance: [photo of himself in vintage filter with the caption “dream me softly”] Jinu: “how do you remove chin shine but keep the ambient glow asking for a friend”
Mystery: [video labeled “i am not perceivable”] Baby: 🧍🧍🧍🧍 (with glowing red eyes)
You closed the app.
They were gone now.
Lost to the spiral.
----------------------------------------------
Step 5: Texting Etiquette (Failed)
You gave them rules.
Simple ones.
No texts after midnight
No spam
No threats via emoji
No shirtless mirror pics before 10am
No live summoning attempts through the group chat
You even pinned the message.
You: “Please use this chat responsibly.”
They did not.
----------------------------------------------
It started subtly. A gentle unraveling.
One night at 12:47 a.m., Romance sent:
“Is it normal to crave both emotional intimacy and garlic bread?”
At 1:03 a.m., Abby responded:
“YES 🧄💪🔥”
At 1:15 a.m., Mystery sent:
“I’m under the bed. Not sure whose bed.”
You decided not to engage.
----------------------------------------------
Baby texted you at 4:22 a.m.
🧍
🧍
🧍
🧍
“im in ur room lol”
He wasn’t.
…Right?
You got up and checked.
He was standing in the hallway. Staring.
Phone in hand.
No expression.
Just slowly sending more 🧍 in real time.
----------------------------------------------
Jinu was no better.
He texted full essays. At 6 a.m. sharp.
“I’ve come to understand that sleep is unnecessary when fueled by rage and chamomile. The duality of man.”
You muted the chat.
Then unmuted it out of fear.
----------------------------------------------
Mystery stopped using words entirely.
One morning you woke up to:
🕯️🌊🪞🔪🐚🦴🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷
You responded:
“Did something happen?”
He replied:
“It’s happening now.”
You put your phone face-down and went back to bed.
----------------------------------------------
The texting styles only made it worse:
Abby voice-texts everything. Sometimes while chewing.
Romance sends paragraphs.
“buying eggs. protein. flex. truck.” crunch
With line breaks.
And mood. “You ever feel like… the moonlight is looking at you instead?”
“Anyway, anyone wanna split dumplings?”
Jinu uses perfect grammar and terrifying punctuation.
Baby just sends 🧍.
“I have taken the liberty of organizing our supplies. Do not move them. :)”
No context.
No words.
Just: 🧍
And sometimes:
🧍🔥🧍🔥🧍🔥🧍🔥
----------------------------------------------
You tried to implement rules again.
“Okay. New rule. No texting after midnight unless it’s an emergency.”
Immediately, Romance replied:
“Emotionally or physically?”
Abby added:
“What if I miss you? Emotionally and physically?”
Mystery replied with a crow emoji and a question mark.
Baby responded at 11:59 with:
🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍
“emotional emergency incoming”
----------------------------------------------
You gave up.
You muted the chat again.
For real this time.
But then, two hours later, you saw this message:
Jinu: “Is… Baby glowing?? Should he be glowing??”
And one from Mystery:
“i think the filter became real”
You turned your phone back on.
Again.
----------------------------------------------
Step 5.5: Mobile Games
You thought teaching them how to download apps would be harmless.
You were wrong.
Very wrong.
----------------------------------------------
It all started with you showing Abby how to install a recipe app. Easy enough.
But three hours later, everyone was fully obsessed with games you hadn’t even mentioned.
You: “How did you all find Subway Surfers?”
Baby: “It found me.”
----------------------------------------------
Abby picked a farming simulator.
You were thrilled—until he started min-maxing crop yields and naming his chickens after famous warriors.
“This is General Cluckles. He’s seen things.”
He made spreadsheets. Color-coded spreadsheets. You didn't know whether to be proud or afraid.
----------------------------------------------
Romance downloaded Love Island: The Game.
He immediately maxed out his charm stat and is now romantically entangled with six NPCs.
“I’m only doing this for research,” he said.
“Research for what?”
“Flirting analytics.”
He also tried to mod the game to include your face.
You confiscated his phone.
He downloaded it on Abby’s instead.
----------------------------------------------
Jinu downloaded chess.
Not a fun mobile chess app. Not like, “learn to play!” chess.
No—he downloaded a tournament tracker and three AI sparring apps.
He now speaks in phrases like:
“He sacrificed the bishop in six… bold.”
You walked in once and found him playing against a CPU rated 2400.
His eyes were glowing.
You backed out slowly.
----------------------------------------------
Mystery somehow ended up with a haunted tamagotchi.
You don’t know what the app was supposed to be, but now his screen shows:
A blinking eye
An icon labeled “FEED?”
And every now and then, a glitchy voice whispering “It grows…”
You told him to delete it.
He whispered back, “I love it.”
----------------------------------------------
And Baby?
Baby downloaded Subway Surfers.
And then something… happened.
Day 1: He was bad at it. Walked into the first train. Got a 15.
Day 2: 1,500 points.
Day 3: He was dodging obstacles that weren’t there.
By Day 4, he had:
Maxed out every character
Memorized every map variant
Started doing combo parkour tricks no human should be able to pull off
“You’re sliding through fire,” you said.
“I am fire,” he said.
He now plays while making eye contact with you.
He doesn’t blink.
You're pretty sure his patterns glow when he hits a perfect streak.
----------------------------------------------
You tried taking their phones away.
Romance said, “But my digital boyfriend needs me.”
Baby sent you 🧍
You gave up.
----------------------------------------------
Epilogue: The Damage Is Done
Later that week, you left your phone charging for ten minutes.
When you came back, Abby had it in his hands.
“Abby…” you said slowly.
“I was just checking something!” he insisted.
You took a breath. “You Googled ‘do demons have bones.’”
From the kitchen, Romance called out, “Do we?”
“I HAVE BONES,” Abby shouted defensively.
Mystery nodded from the couch without looking up. “They creak.”
----------------------------------------------
That night, you sat all five of them down for a review.
Mystery was slicing virtual fruit like it had wronged him, phone at 4% and falling fast.
Jinu was deep in Settings trying to disable every app permission “for safety.”
Baby had subscribed to seven different mukbang YouTube channels and was now playing all of them simultaneously.
Romance kept switching between two phones. You didn’t know where the second one came from. You were afraid to ask.
You exhaled.
And then—smiled.
There was only one frontier left.
“…Okay,” you said. “Who wants to learn how to make a TikTok?”
Romance bolted upright. “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT MY ENTIRE AFTERLIFE.”
