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Rules:
1. 18+ characters only
- I am 25 and I do not write for underage characters.
2. No smut
3. I have the right to refuse a prompt if I am uncomfortable with it.
-Remember I am very much doing this for free and have the right to refuse to write something.
4. The ask box will be closed if I have too many requests. It will open again when I am finished!
If you have any questions feel free to hop on over to my ask box! Thanks :)
Wrote this secret Santa for my friend on Discord Jasper, anyway I hope you enjoy reading this friend this is all for you!!! đ
âCome on Jon, itâll be an easy weekend,â Tim pleaded, flashing Jon a winning grin, âIâll even rent a campsite!â
âNo Tim,â Jon huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, besides I thought you were taking Sasha camping with you.â
Tim faltered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. âI was going to take her,â Tim sighed, âbut our plans fell through, she had a family emergency or something.â
ââŚWhat about Martin?â Jon asked, like it was the next obvious choice.
âAlready beat you to that,â Tim chuckled, âheâs got plans to visit his mum up in her care home in Devon.â
âPlease Jon,â Tim pleaded with him, âweâll pitch a tent, cook food over a campfire, roast marshmallows, Iâll even bring my nice cots, so you won't have to sleep on the ground.â
Jon should have said no.
Heâd almost declined too, though not quite as politely as Martin but then Tim looked at him like that. With that cheeky grin and those big brown eyes, full of mischief and hope.
âItâll be like old times,â Tim said, âI know things have been weird since you became the big bossman and everything but we are still friendsâŚright?â
It was that note of uncertainty that broke Jon.
So Jon said yes.
Timâs face split into a wide grin that made Jonâs heart skip a beat. âYou wont regret it,â He said, âIâll make sure weâll have the best weekend ever.â
That conversation had happened on Monday, the weekend had rolled around and despite Timâs words Jon was whole heartedly regretting his decision.
Sometime in the middle of the week heâd started to feelâŚoff. A dry cough here and a sniffle there, nothing serious.
Heâd blamed it on the weather, too many things blooming.
However by the end of the day on Wednesday Jon was forced to admit he was definitely coming down with something.
And he had done everything in his power to fight it off. Taking regular breaks during the day, drinking ungodly amounts of tea, heâd even be going home early in hopes of nipping this little cold in the bud.
Now it was starting to feel less like a cold and more of a sinus infection.
Jon had started packing determined to still go, having to stop half way through when the ache in his sinuses overwhelmed him forcing him to lay down. His whole face throbbed, a dizzying ache permeating his skull.
He wasnât sure heâd be able to get up and move again if he had to.
A knock on his door had him sitting up straight, the world tilting dangerously as he brought a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes.
âShitâŚâHe hissed, dizzily pulling himself to his feet.
Jon clutched his nightstand like a life preserver leaning heavily into it as the world lurched and spun around him making his stomach do a flip.
âComingâŚâ Jon called out weakly, still trying to regain his balance.
âItâs alright,â Tim called out and he could hear the jingling of keys on the other side of the door, âIâll just let myself in, Jon.â
Jon wanted to stop Tim, call out to him to wait but he honestly didnât know if he could trust his voice right now.
The door swung open just as Jon finally made his way into the living area, and the two men kind of just stared at each other for a moment.
Jon swayed dangerously, his consciousness beginning to falter, kicking Tim into gear as he moved forward catching his friend before hitting the ground.
âWhoa there, if I knew youâd be swooning over me, Iâd have waited a minute to come inâŚâ Tim joked weakly, helping Jon over to the couch.
Jon tried to focus on Tim but the whole world was just fuzzy and out of focus making him nauseous and dizzy so he let his eyes pinch shut. Feeling a cool hand brush his cheek.
âDamn,â Tim hissed, âwhy didnât you say anything Jon we could have rescheduled?â
âWanted to spend time with you,âJon slurred, his words soft as his consciousness continued to fade,âmissed you tooâŚâ He fought hard against the darkness trying to focus on Timâs voice but eventually that faded and he gave into the black.
~
The first thing Jon heard when he regained consciousness was the sound of someone shuffling around in his apartment.
Part of him knew he should probably show a little bit of concern, but his brain was foggy and he was still trying to regain his senses.
Slowly Jon sat up, pressing a hand to his aching head as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened.
He remembered being dizzy, and someone's voiceâŚTim!
Jonâs head snapped up, hissing quickly realizing his mistake.
âWhoa easy there, boss,â Tim said moving across the room quickly, âgot some painkillers, and some water here for you.â He helped Jon with the medication, helping him ease back into the sofa.
Jon swallowed them letting his eyes trail around the room.
His living area was in a bit of a disarray, strewn with camping supplies and a little plastic log with cloth flames billowing out of it.
Looking back at Tim the man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. âI know itâs not traditional camping but I figured we could still spend the weekend together.â He chuckled, âif thatâs alright with you.â
Jon felt his chest swell with warmth, his eyes prickling with hot tears.
âYeah,â He said, clearing his throat, swiping at his eyes, âas long as you put my living room back together when youâre done.â
âI think that can be arranged, Boss.â Tim laughed.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Leon has recently returned from Spain to find that US-STRATCOMâs Bioweapons research and containment division has been disbanned and absorbed by the BSAA. Itâs taking time to adjust to his new working environment, but it was for the best for his teamâŚright?
CW: Cursing, Blood, Gore, PTSD, Anxiety, Anxiety Attack, Zombies,
and Oc's
theillusionofsafety96.tumblr.com
This chapters from Jonâs POV, and itâs a little shorter than I would of liked it to be but I really enjoyed writting it so I hope someone enjoys reading it!
The muscles in Jonâs back ached, protesting as he slumped over his computer, staring at the screen.
Jon re-read the email once more, hot dread filling his stomach. His request for time off was denied.
His stomach rolled. Jon needed that time off after getting his flu shot. The after-effects always hit him hard. He could already feel a low-grade fever coming on, chills running down his spine.
It was stupid of him though asking for time off when he just recieve a promotion...Sasha wouldnât of need the time off.
Jon gathered a few files, hoping that his assistants wouldnât be too upset with a little extra work, not looking forward to widening the ever growing gap between him and his...friends.
Getting to his feet he swayed slightly the room spinning around him as he grasped the edge of his desk, trying to get his bearings. It took longer than he would have liked but eventually his vision cleared.
Jon let go of the desk a bit wary, grabbing his cane as it seemed he would need the extra support today.
Making his way down to the archives he stopped, hearing voices. He thought about turning around not wanting to upset them by interrupting their break time, but then he heard it.
They were talking about him.
It froze Jon in place, hearing the way they talked about him, the snide comments mixed in with Martinâs weak attempts to defend him.
Then he heard itâŚ
âJon shouldnât have taken the job he couldnât handle,â Sasha snapped, back irritated, ânow heâs got the job, and he isnât even doing anything with it!â
Her words cut through Jon like knives, and he barely noticed his stack of neatly organized files slide to the floor. The voices stoppedâŚ
Jon turned on his heels, a sick feeling filling his stomach as he quickly walked back to his office, shutting the heavy door behind him with a thud.
Once inside Jon slid to the ground letting his cane clatter to the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes, sliding down his hot cheeks. He sobbed pulling his knees to his chest.
Jon knew the promotion had been hard on Tim and Sasha, but it was one thing to imagine the resentment they had for him and another to hear in person.
If heâd known heâd be breaking some invisible rule of friendship by taking this job...he would have turned it down. Let Elias fire him.
It would have been for the best...Sasha deserved it more anyway. She wouldnât fumble around pushing her work onto other people.
He swiped at the tears, choking down a sob.
Pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, Jon could feeling a headache coming on. Crying always did that to him.
He had some pain killers on his desk, but it seemed so far away.
All he felt like doing at the moment was wallow in his own misery, itâs what he deserved for being such a rotten person.
A soft knock interrupted his self deprecating thoughts, and a soft tentative voice called out his name.
Tim and Sasha are mean to Jon and Martin doesnât appriciate it. I hope someone enjoys reading this because I enjoyed writing it.
âJon?â Martin called out, stepping carefully around boxes of statements littered around Jon's office.
The worst of it on Jonâs desk, as the man peeked over them, his chin just narrowly above the box. âYes.â He croaked, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Martin swallowed down the anxiety bubbling up his throat, âUhm, I finished the work you assigned,â He said, holding it up to show him,â I was wondering if you had anything else you needed me to do?â
Jon let out a long-suffering sigh, pressing his face into his hands, âMartin, thatâs really unnecessaryâŚâ
âIt really isnât,â Martin said, a bit too blunt for his own liking,â What I mean i-is...Iâm your assistant, so...let me assist.â
Jon looked him over with his sharp brown eyes, before gesturing with his hand, âTake your pick.â He relented, surprising Martin.
âOh, okay!â Martin exclaimed, skimming the files littering his boss's work area, picking carefully until he had a sizable stack. âIâll just get started on these.â He said, turning to leave.
âThank you, Martin,â Jon said, his voice barely above a whisper.
âYouâre welcome, Jon.â Martin told him before leaving the room, practically beaming.
~
Martin made his way back to his desk, plopping the stack of files on his desk, before taking a seat, sighing heavily.
He knew heâd probably have to put in some overtime this week, but it was worth it to see Jonâs shoulder relax just a little.
âTsk.â Tim said, catching Martinâs attention, âTypical Jon canât get his work done, so heâs going to dump it on someone else.â
Martinâs brows furrowed because that didnât sound right. If anything, Jon was taking on too much by himself, and they werenât doing enough.
âI think heâs trying to make it easierâŚâ Martin hesitated, âitâs been a difficult transition for all of us, moving down here.â
âYouâre too nice for your good, Martin,â Sasha said, with a tired smile, âbut you havenât known him as long as we have.â
Sashaâs words left a sour taste in Martinâs mouth...that didnât sound right either.
Martin may not have known Jon back then, but heâd seen him plenty of times working in the library, sometimes long after hours. Jon didnât seem like the type of person to slack off and leave the work to someone else.
âI still think youâre too hard on him,â Martin protested, trying not to lose his patience, âthis archive is a daunting task for anyone.â
âJon shouldnât have taken the job he couldnât handle,â Sasha snapped, back irritated, ânow heâs got the job, and he isnât even doing anything with it!â
The room was quiet aside from the swish of papers hitting the ground and the sound of clumsy footstepsâsomeone trying to leave the room quickly...unnoticed and failing.
JonâŚ
Sasha looked mortified, not knowing how long he was standing there or how much he had actually heard, but he had heard enough.
Martin took a deep breath in through his mouth and out through the nose,â Yeah, well, at least Jonâs trying,â He said, standing up from his desk, âinstead of sitting around doing nothing and being bitter.â
With that, he left to make some tea, a weak excuse to check on Jon.
He would leave them to stew in their well-deserved guilt.
What if Jon gave a statement about Mr.Spider as a child? Like maybe his gran was at her wits end and brought him to the institute as a last attempt to give him a piece of mind and Jon...makes a statement.
He doesnât remember doing this until years later when heâs working at the Magnus Institute and a recording of his statement is unearthed by one of his assistants.
Ex:
Tim: *playing a tape to find out whats recorded on it. Visibly uncomfortable but trying to cover it up with humor* Hey I didnât know this place let kids give statements, talk about nightmare fuel.
Jon: *visibly disturbed as he recognizes the voice on the tape...and then the child says their name...Jonathan Sims*
Warnings: CW panic attack CW childhood trauma
Tim flipped the tape over in his hand, groaning a little when he realized it was unlabeled.
Heâd have to listen to it so he'd know where to file it, which unfortunately meant borrowing a tape recorder from Jon. The other man had been holed up in an office all day, so there was no telling what kind of mood he was in.
But it was unavoidable. It would put the boss man in an even pissier mood if he found out Tim had just left the improperly filed.
So he sauntered to Jonâs office, taking up as much time as possible, but he could only postpone things for so long before he found himself standing outside of Jonâs office.
Tim listened for a few moments, and when he was sure Jon wasnât recording a statement, he knocked, not waiting for a reply, pushing the door open.
âHey bossman!â He called cheerfully, when he wasnât immediately torn apart he took it as a small victory.
âTimâŚâJon sighed, shooting Tim a tired glare that really had no head behind it, âDid you need something?â He asked sharply.
âFound an unlabeled tape,â He told Jon, holding up the tape in question, âfigured Iâd borrow the tape recorder, and take a listen.â
âCare to join me I can pop some popcorn?â Tim teased with a cheeky grin.
Jon rolled his eyes,â With what weâve found on these statements so far, I can imagine it would be unappetizing.â
âWas that a joke?â Tim snorted,â Are you feeling alright boss?â
Jon picked up the tape recorder, âLetâs find out whatâs on that tape.â He said, quickly changing the subject.
Tim was sure he only did that because he knew it got on his nerves, the cheeky bastard. At least heâd managed to catch Jon in a good mood.
They took the tape into the break room, popping it into the recorder, hitting play.
It started out as any normal statement, recorded by the previous archivist before the statement giver spoke.
The voice that came out was chillingâŚ
There wasnât anything particularly special about it, but there was something haunting about a childâs retelling of the horror they experienced.
Tim swallowed hard, trying to hide his discomfort behind a thin veil of humor, â Talk about nightmare fuel eh, Jon.â He said, looking at Jon, âI didnât know the Magnus Institute took children's statements.â
He regretted the words as they left his mouth, seeing the look on Jonâs face.
The other man looked like he was going to be sick. âJonâŚ?â Tim called out, just as the boy on the tape said his name.
Jonathan SimsâŚ
~
Jon scrambled to his feet, his stomach rolling as he left the room, panic building in his chest.
He was sure he was going to be sickâŚ
Not paying attention to where he was going Jon ran into a wallâŚa firm warm wall that wasnât really a wall but MartinâŚ
âJon!â Martin squeaked, face flushing a dark shade of red. âIâm sorry I didnât see...are you alright?â He asked, seeing the tight uncomfortable expression on Jonâs face.
Jon mumbled a non-answer, something about being fine before slipping past Martin, disappearing into the bathroom.
Nothing about this sat right with Martin, so he followed Jon.
Martin found Jon sitting on the ground, his trembling legs unable to hold him up any longer. His breathing short desperate gasps, as if someone were squeezing his chest.
He approached with caution, not wanting to startle Jon, as he clearly wasnât in a good place right now.
Moving slowly Martin slid down until he was on the ground, at Jonâs eye level.
He cleared his throat softly to get Jonâs attention, the other man's eyes darting to meet Martinâs, âH-hey Jon...is there anything I can get you?â He asked.
Jon hesitated, shaking his head a soft jerky motion that Martin wouldnât have noticed if he hadnât been paying attention.
Martin chewed his lip nervously before asking his next question,â Is it...is it alright if I touch you?â He asked.
The words hung in the air for what felt like ages, before Jon nodded.
Martin carefully wrapped his arm around Jon, asking once more if this was still okay, receiving another jerky nod in response.
âDo you think you could breathe with me?â Martin asked, another nod. He started taking long deep easy breaths, that Jon could follow along with when he felt ready.
It took a couple achingly long moments but eventually Jon was able to copy Martinâs breathing.
He stayed there, holding Jon for as long as it took for him to calm down. Even longer when he looked down to find that the other man had fallen asleep,
Martin sat there, listening to Jonâs soft even breaths
Alright fellow fanfic friends, itâs Friday, the best day of the week, and itâs about to get a lot more fun. Ya know why?
Reblog this post if you want people to send you asks about your writing process, wip/fics, or headcanons today! For each ask you get, send and ask back in return!
This is a weekly event, to be held every Friday (obviously) and is open to all fanfic writers in any fandom! Donât be shy about sending asks to blogs you donât knowâthis is a great way for writers to get to know different blogs and fics, and make new friends!
(in case you feel like youâve seen something like this before, this is based of of writeblrâs Storyteller Saturday, aka STS!)
Here it is, the first part to my TMA Nursery School Au with Jon and Tim as teachers. I hope people enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have anything you want to see happen just pop into my ask box itâs always open!
Martin wasnât sure what to expect when he agreed to pick up his neighborâs daughter.
He surely wasnât prepared to be confronted with her very handsome teacher.
The man in question currently crouched down, listening intently as a toddler babbled on, nodding and interjecting in all the right places.
Martin averted his gaze, realizing he was staring, feeling his heart thrumming in his chest, the flush creeping up his cheeks. âGod, Iâm a hopeless romanticâŚâ He thought to himself, âCanât even pick up my neighborâs daughter without getting a crush.â
⨠oh look, itâs another fanfic writer ask game â¨
has a comment someone left on a fic of yours ever made you laugh out loud?
has a comment someone left on a fic of yours ever made you cry?
and because i know weâre all egocentric, have you ever made yourself laugh out loud or cry with a fic you wrote?
what would this fic be about, based on the title? (asker provides fake fic title) (x)
if you couldnât finish (one of) your wip(s) for some reason, what writer would you trust with finishing it, if any? (asker can choose what wip)
what is your favourite sense to incorporate in your writing and why?
what is you favourite sentence/paragraph? read it to us! (asker can choose what fic) (x)
if you got a computer virus that deleted all your fics but had just enough time to save one before they were wiped out, which fic would you pick and why?
the âyou got kudosâ e-mail is usually much appreciated, but is there a fic you wish you didnât get these e-mails for? if so, which one and why?
what word do you keep using like itâs going out of style?
what grammar mistake do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?
what headcanon will you keep implementing in your fics, even if canon ends up contradicting it?
do you make playlists for when you write? if so, share!
what trope would you refuse to write even if you were paid to do it?
describe (one of) your wip(s) in the weirdest/most contrived way possible! (asker can choose what wip)
Here it is, the first part to my TMA Nursery School Au with Jon and Tim as teachers. I hope people enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have anything you want to see happen just pop into my ask box itâs always open!
Martin wasnât sure what to expect when he agreed to pick up his neighborâs daughter.
He surely wasnât prepared to be confronted with her very handsome teacher.
The man in question currently crouched down, listening intently as a toddler babbled on, nodding and interjecting in all the right places.
Martin averted his gaze, realizing he was staring, feeling his heart thrumming in his chest, the flush creeping up his cheeks. âGod, Iâm a hopeless romanticâŚâ He thought to himself, âCanât even pick up my neighbor's daughter without getting a crush.â
He nearly leapt out of his skin when someone cleared their throat. Â Head snapping up to find another unfortunately attractive man that, oh god, was saying something to Martin.
âIâm sorry, what?â Martin blurted out, his face heating up, turning an even darker shade of red, as he cursed his naturally pale skin.
The man just laughed, a wonderful noise if you asked Martin, âI was asking if you needed something?â He asked.
âRight, uhm Iâm here to pick up Alice- Alice Fisher?â Martin answered, stumbling over his words sounding uncertain of himself, âIâm Martin Blackwood.â
âTim Stoker, itâs nice to meet you, Martin Blackwood,â Tim answered, humming as he looked through the papers on his clipboard, âHmmm, I donât see you listed.â
Dread sunk to the pit of Martinâs stomach, not sure what to do now. He couldnât just leave Alice here.
âDonât look so forlorn, Martin,â Tim grinned, patting the other man on the back. âIâm sure itâs an honest mistake. Iâll go talk to our director, and weâll get it sorted out. Jon will keep you company in the meantime.â Tim told Martin, gesturing to the man crouched on the floor, chuckling, âThat is when heâs finished his conversation with Michael.â
Tim disappeared into the hallway, leaving Martin alone in a room full of children.
Glancing around, Martin located Alice playing with a couple other children that looked to be around her age.
She squealed when she saw Martin running to him, wrapping her small arms around his leg, burying her face into his thigh. A warm feeling filled Martinâs chest as he rests his hand on Alice's head.
Pulling away, Alice wrapped her pudgy hand around his, tugging him in the direction of her teacher. Â âUncle Martin, meet my teacher, Mr. Sims!â She exclaimed, very excited to introduce the two.
Martin's felt his heart jump into his throat as he followed the little girl, swallowing it when dark brown eyes met his own. He felt like they were scrutinizing him, and they werenât impressed with what they saw.
He reminded Martin more of a distinguished academic rather than a Nursery School teacher. He looked young, but his dark hair was streaked with silver, and oh god, Martin was staring again.
Jon stood, and Alice grabbed his hand, dragging him over to Martin, babbling on very excited,â Mr. Simâs, this is my Uncle Martin.â She said, snapping Martin out of his daze.
âUhm, Iâm M-Martin- Martin Blackwood.â He said, sticking his hand out for the other man to shake. Jon took Martinâs hand.
âJonathan Sims.â He said, shaking his hand,â But Jonâs is fine.â Jon looked wary of Martin like he wasnât sure exactly what he should feel about him.
âIâm Uhm, here to pick up Alice.â Martin squeaked, his voice cracking slightly under the other man's intense gaze. âBut I guess her parents didnât properly register me in the system, so uh, Tim went to go talk to the director.â And oh god, Martin was rambling, wasnât he.
He didnât know why he was explaining all of this in the first place.
Jon's expression softened a bit, âI see. Well, Iâm sure Tim will be back soon.â He said, âIn the meantime, itâs nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwood.â
âJust Martinâs fine.â He said, relieved now that he felt like he wasnât being examined.
Jon nodded, only half his attention seeming to be focused on Martin. The other half focused on the children scrambling around the classroom, weaving around the two of them.
Alice had already left to join them, leaving Martin to make awkward small talk with her teacher.
One of the children, a bit younger than Alice, ran up, tugging on Jonâs skirt's fabric to get his attention. He crouched down to them, and the soft smile that graced Jonâs face when he spoke to the child made Martinâs stomach do a flip.
âHello, Mr. Oliver. How are you doing today?â Jon asked a shy-looking boy with wiry curly hair and wide eyes.
âNikolaâs pulling on Michealâs hair!âOliver said in a small voice, pointing towards a taller girl pulling on a shorter boy's long curly blonde hair.
âOh Lord, not again,â Jon said, quickly rushing over to reprimand the girl, stopping her from pulling on the now crying child's hair, âNikola, weâve talked about this. You canât keep picking on Micheal like this, and you know that.â
He pulled the small boy into his arms to comfort him, having the little girl apologize to the boy.
Martin was completely enamored, watching him handle the situation with such ease. He didnât even notice Tim come up behind him, clapping him on the back, âAlright, youâre all set to take Alice.â He said, laughing as Martin jumped.
âOh uh, thank you!â Martin said, flushing bright pink once more. Trying to hide the fact that he very clearly staring at Jon.
Apparently not hiding it very well, âHeâs great with them, isnât he?â Tim chuckled, giving the nod to Jon,â I think they can sense that heâs short like them.â
Martin snorted, barely suppressing a laugh, not wanting to hurt Jonâs feelings.
He called Alice over, letting her know they were ready to go, and she waved her good-byes, shouting, âBye Mr. Stoker, and Mr. Sims.â
Jon and Tim smiled, waving at the little girl, and Martin turned to leave with Alice. Heâd really have to talk to her parents about coming to pick her up more often.
-Jon teaches the older children, the 3-5 year oldâs
-Tim works with the younger children/babies, the 0-2 year oldâs.
-Sasha is the director of the Nursery School
-Martin is a neighbor/adopted uncle that sometimes picks up their daughter Alice. Heâs adopted in the sense that this child has claimed Martin as their uncle.
(Any other characters not here that you think should be included, like Melanie, Georgie, Elias, any Avatars, etc⌠just send an ask with what you think they should be, and weâll figure it out together.
Iâm considering making the avatars children so any thoughts on that?)
Curling in on himself running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, closing his eyes, mumbling words of reassurance to himself. Raising his eyes eventually to scan the room before him.
It was empty, as much of the rest of the estate, aching loneliness that heâd learned to live with. Visitors coming in rarity these days, with Moe and Tsukasa in school. They all lead busy lives. He couldnât expect them to drop there lives just to come to visit him.
Picking up his phone, Kazuo groaned when he saw how late in the day it was, late nights researching ways to destroy Mary, starting to take its toll.
Tedious work that so far was accomplishing nothing, unless working himself to the bone counted productivity.
Kazuo hauled himself to his feet, vision blurring as he swayed, stumbling forward. His heart thumped in his chest and when his vision cleared, he examined his arms, for any sign of a mark, worried that Mary was becoming active again.
When he saw none, he let out a lengthy sigh, rubbing his face with his hands, âI need to get more sleep.â Kazuo moaned, stumbling back over to the bed, flopping face down on the covers, closing his eyes, deciding he could be productive later.
âHey, youâre here early,â Frank said, opening the door for Ellie, letting her inside their apartment, taking the plastic bags from her, âWhatâs all this?â He asked, taking a peek.
âOh, you know, supplies.â Ellie told him, taking off her jacket, hanging it up, âI figured you guys werenât prepared for Joe to get sick so I brought some stuff over, thereâs even some tea in there for you Frank something to boost the immune system.â She said with a grin.
âYou would be right,â Frank said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, before taking the bags to the kitchen, âYouâre boyfriends chilling out on the couch if you want to see him, though you might want to keep your distance whatever cold heâs caught is pretty nasty.â He called to her from the kitchen,
Ellie shrugged, â I took an emergency this morning.â She called back to him, âSo I think Iâm good, besides a little contagion isnât gonna keep me from cuddling with my boyfriend when heâs sick.â
Frank laughed, âAlright, donât say I didnât warn you!â He called to her.
âI can hear you guys, you know!â Joe called to them, aggravating his throat as he dissolved into a chesty cough.
Henry stood outside of the small studio, staring down the haphazard Joey Drew studios painted on the door. He could feel his nerve, roll and turn his stomach, as he hesitated wondering what kind of people heâd meet on the other side of that door.
He had liked it much better when all of this was a silly dream that he and Joey dreamed about, back when it didnât seem possible for dreams to come true.
Dreaming meant Henry didnât have to make small talk and interact with other people.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, walking inside, looking around for someone who could tell him where to go. There were lots of people bustling and moving around the problem was finding someone that would stop long enough to give him directions.
âUhm excuse me.â Henry called out to a tall thin stern-looking man, grabbing his arm to stop him walking away, earning a glare as the man pulled his arm away looking Henry up and down with disdain.
âLinda!â He turned away, yelling to someone, âYouâre fresh meats hear!â He said, and some shuffling could be heard in another room as a young woman poked her head out.
âYou better not have scared him away already, Sammy!â She scolded him, smiling when she saw Henry going to greet him, âOh thank goodness, you must be the animator friend Joey was talking about, Henry wasnât it?â Linda asked, sticking her hand out for him to shake it.
Henryâs mouth felt dry as he took the women's hand, heâs never been good with girls, especially not pretty ones, and Linda was stunning.
Linda shook his hand, raising an eyebrow, âNot a very talkative thing are you, donât worry, weâll get you out of that shell of yours.â She said grinning brightly, âItâs nice to meet the creator of Bendy, Iâm another animator, so I guess weâll be seeing a lot of each other.â
These words finally snapped Henry out of his daze,â I-I guess so.â He fumbled over his words.
âSee what I say youâre already getting better at talking.â Linda teased, âAnyway, I guess I better show you around the studio.â She said, pulling him along, showing him around introducing him to people.
Henry felt his nerves ease a little figuring that working here wouldnât be too bad after all.
Jeremey didnât know what was going on, but he was sure that he didnât like it.
He had opened his eyes to a strange man sleeping in his bed, and his half asleep brain was struggling to process what was going on at the moment.
When his brain finally did catch up with him he had a proper reaction to the situationâŚwhich was to shriek and fall off the bed in a panicked frenzy.
His breathing heavy as he heard them move around on his bed before a pair of pale blue eyes peered down at him from the bed,â Jeremy, I donât understand why youâre on the floor?â A calm voice questioned him,â Is it comfortable down there?â Now that sarcasm he recognized.
âNo, wayâŚit canât beâŚâ He mumbled, his brain trying to process all of this,â Squip!?â He exclaimed, everything suddenly coming together.
The Squip tilted its head slightly in confusion,â Yes Jeremy.â He stated,â Are you sure you didnât hit your head?â It asked looking down at the clearly confused boy.
Jeremy was speechless for a moment, before stammering out a reply,â N-no you just lookâŚdifferent?â He said, uncertain if that was the right word for this situation.
The other man kind of just stared at him for a bit,â I donât understand, explain?â It stated almost sounding confusedâŚand it made Jeremy uncomfortable.
Jeremy hesitated a bit before sitting up straight, he reached out his hand hesitating a bit before poking his cheek, pulling back in shock when he felt the warm skin of the squip face underneath his fingertip.
"Wyatt!" Chris yelled in horror as his brother towered menacingly over the helpless women,â What are you doing sheâs a good Witch!!?â He said watching as his brother killed her without a second thought.
Turning to Chris, Wyatt chuckled darkly," Oh poor naĂŻve Chris,â He chided him tauntingly,â there is no good or evil, only power, you should know that by now.â Ignoring the fear on his face as he left in a flurry of orbs.
~
Chris sat straight up heart beating out of his chest as his eyes darted around the room, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
He felt dazed and confused trying to process where he was everything feeling so unfamiliar. But it wasnât long before his memory caught up with him, he was at P3 on the lumpy couch in the back room.
Laying back down he released a breath that he hadnât realized heâd been holding in, and muttered to himself,â It was just a dream,â He told himself,â Heâs not here your safe.â It didnât make him feel much better thoughâŚIt wasnât just a dream it was a reality.
Heâd been having a lot of nightmares like this one lately, all of them just as traumatic as this one.
Once heâd calmed down enough he was finally able to assess thingsâŚand one thing he was sure of is that he felt like garbage. Moaning he rubbed his forehead, hoping to soothe the ache behind his eyes as he began to assess how bad off he was.
He didnât feel too bad so he could cross off anything too serious, but his body ached so it was enough to lay him up for a few days. No demon hunting in the rain anymoreâŚ
Chris groaned this would set him back, he was already running out of time he couldnât afford to be laid up.
But the rational part of his mind knew that if he didnât heâd only get worse if he didnât rest, then heâd be set back even more.
Sighing he resigned to his fate of mandatory bed rest,â My first lazy day since momâs deathâŚâ He thought to himself bitterly, pushing away the sadness that was trying to creep in.
He really was working himself into the ground, maybe this was a good thing he thought to himself as his eyes began to slip shut.
âChirs!!!â He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head when he heard his name, doing nothing to dull the volume at all,â Chris!!!â
Chris pulled the pillow off his face glaring at the ceiling so much for rest,â Chris!!!â They called again and he groaned,â Iâm coming, Iâm coming.â He said, disappearing in a flurry of orbs.
