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i’m very self aware. which unfortunately hasn’t solved anything
Wisptober Day 26 - Ophelia
"She was laid out in the dark waters, still and pale, as her body slowly faded away." Obligatory Unicorn of the year!
WARNING - HEADSHOT + BLOOD
As soon as I saw that animation, I had to redraw this scene✨
Playing Miitopia was fun ✨
Wait… YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?! Pt1
✦part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8
✦fem!reader
✦characters: Lilia, Jade, Epel
✦streamer reader keeps her relationship private until….
✦good luck finding your usernames (post)
Lilia Vanrouge
Your brows furrowed, jaw clenched as you peeked around a digital corner. “Okay, chat, they’re camping again. Literally again. Same deam spot. I swear these players don’t even blink, they just sit there like… like angry little mushrooms waiting to ruin my day.”
Chat:
chris-2220: campers = evil confirmed
jen-jen: she’s boutta lose it
best_mod: NOT THE MUSHROOMS LMAO
y/n.fan: someone save her
hanafubukki: rage incoming in 3…2…1…
You turned the corner in-game.
BOOM.
You screamed. “OH MY GOD!! AGAIN?! I JUST SPAWNED, YOU LOSERS PIECE OF—”
Your avatar ragdolled to the ground for the fifth time. Your hands flew into the air in defeat as you let out a long, loud puff. "Ugh, I hate this. I hate all of this."
You flopped back in your gaming chair, ready to launch into a full blown gamer rant when…
“You always get this dramatic when you lose. It’s adorable.”
You froze. Your heart stopped. Your soul left your body.
Because that was a very familiar voice. A very recognizable, flirty, smug, velvet smooth voice coming from just out of frame. Your eyes widened. Your hands shot up like you were being held at gunpoint.
And then…
Chat:
chris-2220: WAIT! WHO IS THAT? WHO JUST SAID THAT?! WAS THAT A GUY’S VOICE??? TELL US NOW!
hanafubukki: “adorable”??? HELLO??? WHY WAS THAT KINDA HOT
blessingofthestars: I NEED HIM TO SPEAK AGAIN PLS
jen-jen: SHE’S GOT A MAN??
masquerade-of-misery: HE SOUNDED WAY TOO SMOOTH TO BE REAL
You started laughing nervously. “Uh…I…guys, that was, um… just… the neighbor! Haha! Funny thing. Thin walls. Ha…”
You were fumbling hard. The stammering. The fake giggles. The absolute refusal to look directly at chat. From behind you, the voice returned, closer this time, clearly amused.
“Tell them I said hi.”
You turned slowly. He did not just… You whipped your head back to the camera. “I… I can explain!!!!”
Chat:
Y/N_simp: DEAD! I’M DEAD
hanafubukki: HE SAID HI I’M SCREAMING! y/n.fan: MYSTERY BOYFRIEND???
chris-2220: YOU’VE BEEN HIDING A MAN THIS WHOLE TIME???
masquerade-of-misery: DROP HIS @ !DROP HIS BLOOD TYPE! WE NEED RECEIPTS!
blessingofthestars: WHY IS HE KINDA FLIRTY
jen-jen: DID SHE JUST GET EXPOSED LIVE LMAOOOOO
You covered your face with both hands, groaning. “I hate you,” you muttered over your shoulder.
Lilia leaned casually into frame, smirking like the smug menace he was, and gave the camera a playful wink. “Aw, come now, love. They seem fun.”
Chat:
chris-2220: OH MY GOD HE’S CUTE
y/n.fan: STOP IT! YOU’RE KILLING US
Y/N_simp: SHE’S SO RED RN I’M IN LOVE
hanafubukki: girl… good for you…
best_mod: I SHIP IT
You exhaled in defeat, cheeks glowing. “…Okay. Yes. That was Lilia. He’s… my boyfriend. Surprise…”
You shot him a glare. He blew you a kiss. “I was gonna keep it private a little longer,” you mumbled.
Lilia perched himself on the arm of your chair and rested a hand on your shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that, love?”
Jade Leech
You were mid way through a relaxed, late afternoon stream, lounging in your chair with your headset perched lazily over one ear. Chat was a chill ocean of messages, questions, and banter as you leaned back and scrolled through your upcoming schedule.
“Okay, so for Thursday’s stream, we’re doing the collab with CayCay, and then next Monday’s stream might be an IRL one… if the weather behaves,” you said.
Chat:
Y/n.mushroom: pls tell me the IRL stream is hiking again!
usernamesarehardtomake: i love the forest ones!!
jen-jen: what’s the outfit for Monday 👀
tutorialb0ss: we want the chaos collab on Thursday
You smiled, stretching a little then…
Click.
The door to your room opened behind you, and you instantly stiffened. Your mouth hung open mid sentence. Jade walked in. Calm, composed… and visibly excited, at least, Jade excited, which meant a slight gleam in his eyes and a gentle lift to his smile. In his hands was a small, intricately carved wooden box.
“I found some new kind of mushrooms,” he said with quiet enthusiasm. “They’re a curious shade of violet and had an unusual texture when I plucked them.”
Your entire soul left your body. Because not only did he forget you were streaming, but he had walked in exactly the way he always did, soft footed, confident, and directly into frame.
Your eyes shot wide. The camera only caught him from the chest down, but still…. white sleeves rolled neatly at his elbows, forest dusted gloves, and his voice.
That smooth, hypnotic voice.
Chat:
Y/nsupport: WHO WAS THAT!?
jen-jen: “I found some mushrooms”?? HELLO??
Y/n.mushroom: voice reveal of some mystery man
wokasiv: he sounds hot not gonna lie
tutorialb0ss: THE WAY HE SOUNDED EXCITED ABOUT MUSHROOMS! IM CRYING!
usernamesarehardtomake: MA’AM. MA’AM EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW! WHOSE FOREARMS ARE THOSE???
You were frozen, like a deer in headlights. “...Hi, Jade,” you managed weakly, one hand awkwardly hovering over your mouse. “You’re, uh… on camera.”
Jade blinked once, then glanced at the monitor. “Ah,” he said smoothly.
He didn’t panic… of course he didn’t. He just tilted his head slightly, curious. “Am I interrupting?”
“I—uh—yes. I mean no. I mean… I forgot to end stream before you got home,” you stammered, heat crawling up your neck. “That’s… my bad.”
Jade chuckled. “I did wonder. You said you would be finished by the time I returned.” He placed the mushroom box on your desk gently. “But you get so absorbed when you’re enjoying yourself. It’s endearing.”
Chat:
tutorialb0ss: END??EAR??ING???
neko: HE’S SO CALM WTF
jen-jen: HE PUT A BOX DOWN. WHAT’S IN THE BOX?!?
usernamesarehardtomake: BRO WHY HE SOUND LIKE A FAIRY TALE VILLAIN I WANNA DATE
wokasiv: HIS VOICE IS ILLEGAL
Y/n.mushroom: DROP HIS FACE. DROP THE CAM. WE WANNA SEE.
You rubbed your face, trying to hide your red cheeks. “Chat, this is Jade. Yes. He’s my boyfriend. No, I wasn’t planning on telling you like this.”
Jade leaned down just enough for his face to almost peek into frame, still hidden, but close enough that you felt his breath near your ear. “Would you like me to say hello properly?” he murmured.
Your brain short-circuited. “Nope! Nope, we’re good, thanks!” you blurted out, smacking the ‘Be Right Back’ screen hotkey in a flustered panic.
Chat:
wokasiv: SHE’S LOSING IT!
usernamesarehardtomake: STOP THIS IS THE BEST STREAM EVER
neko: SHE WENT ✨BRB✨ REAL FAST
tutorialb0ss: MUSHROOM BOYFRIEND REVEAL IS ICONIC
Y/nsupport: LET HIM SPEAK AGAIN PLSSSS
Y/n.mushroom: this man got her blushing and panicking I’m OBSESSED
better.twin: Ew…
You turned in your chair and glared at Jade, who smiled sweetly down at you like he hadn’t just broken your entire streamer career in five seconds flat. “This is your fault,” you muttered.
He leaned in and kissed your temple, voice like silk. “I brought mushrooms.”
“…Fine. You’re forgiven. But next time!!!.”
Epel Felmier
You were in the middle of a comfy, easy going stream, your hoodie sleeves bunched up at your elbows and a grin on your face as you held up your new prototype merch mug to the camera. “So this is the first test version. The handle’s gonna be reshaped, and the logo will probably glow in the dark. Which I think is so cool,” you said proudly, spinning the mug between your fingers.
“The hoodie samples are coming next week, and I’m thinking of doing a special pre order drop for subs first”
Chat:
Y/n.lil.apple: that mug is so cute!
waitlexist: GLOW IN THE DARK??? OKAYYY
Y/n.notice_me: take my wallet pls
glitchingmind: when’s the drop date?? 👀👀
Neko: WAIT WHO JUST WALKED BY???
You blinked. “Huh?” You glanced behind you but nothing was there. Just your bedroom door half open.
“Someone walked by?” you repeated slowly, squinting toward the hallway.
Chat:
Y/n.lil.apple: YES SOMEONE LITERALLY JUST PASSED
Y/N_simp: lilac hoodie guy! he was cute
waitlexist: HE HAD A BABY FACE
Neko: HE’S SO ADORABLE! was that your brother??? 👀👀👀
You snorted, laughing. “My brother? I don’t have a brother.” You leaned closer to read more comments, scrolling up.
“Wait… what? ‘He’s so adorable, was that your brother?’... I—huh?” You read the comment out loud.
Before you could even register your confusion fully…
SLAM.
The door flew open, and Epel marched back in like a storm in human form, glaring straight at your monitor with arms crossed over his chest and righteous fury radiating from him. “Who the fuck are you calling adorable?!” he snapped, voice sharp and thick with his unmistakable accent. “AND I’M HER BOYFRIEND!!”
You froze.
Chat? Exploded.
Chat:
Y/N_simp: EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!?! BOYFRIEND???
waitlexist: “WHO THE FUCK” SIR HELLO???
Neko: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO
Y/n.notice_me: BABYGIRL HAS A BOYFRIEND REVEAL LIVE
glitchingmind: THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER
Y/N_simp: YOU’RE DATING THAT ANGRY LITTLE GRAPE??
Y/n.fan_: I THOUGHT HE WAS A BABY HE’S A WHOLE MAN???
Y/n.lil.apple: THE ACCENT CAME OUT HARD 😭😭😭
You turned slowly in your chair, wide eyed. “Epel… what… why did you yell at chat?!”
“They called me adorable,” he said indignantly, walking fully into the room now, jaw tense. “Like I’m some little purse puppy or somethin’… tch. I ain’t adorable, I’m tough. I work out! I chop wood! You’ve seen my arms!”
You blinked at him. “...They didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
“I don’t care, they’re wrong!” He pointed at your screen dramatically. “Tell them. Tell them I’m your man, not your deam brother!”
You slapped your hand over your mouth to hide your laughter, shoulders shaking. “Okay okay! yes, everyone, that was Epel,” you said between giggles. “He’s not my brother. He’s my boyfriend. My… very proud boyfriend.”
Chat:
waitlexist: “I CHOP WOOD” OKAY LUMBERJACK
Y/n.fan_: SIR RELAX WE GET IT
Y/n.notice_me: THE ACCENT WHEN HE’S MAD IS KINDA 👀
Y/n.lil.apple: I THOUGHT HE WAS CUTE, BUT HE’S SCARY NOW!
glitchingmind: “I’M HER MAN” I’M GONNA DIE
Y/N_simp: you got yourself a firecracker
Neko: PLS BRING HIM ON STREAM MORE
Epel huffed but looked satisfied. “Damn right.”
You finally turned to him, eyes warm. “You could’ve just said hi, you know.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be as fun.”
Then, with all the casualness in the world, he leaned down and kissed your cheek, making your chat short circuit even harder, before walking off again like nothing happened.
You stared at your camera, stunned. “...So anyway, about that merch drop.”
Chat:
Neko: MAM.
Y/N_simp: WE’RE NOT DONE.
Y/n.lil.apple: GET HIM BACK HERE
glitchingmind: WE NEED A COUPLE STREAM NOW
waitlexist: HOW DARE YOU JUST GO BACK TO BUSINESS
..............................................................................................................................
If you wanna be in the next, drop your favorite character in the comments.
Comm
Reach Heaven (Through Violence)
When I was in 2nd grade, my school started a zero-tolerance policy for bullying. I want to emphasize that I started out very excited for this program. I was a small, visibly autistic child on a playground with fourth graders on it. In theory, this program might as well have been called The Rescue Babs Initiative.
In practice, however, zero-tolerance programs almost always sink into madness. The motivations never line up right - too many incentives for cheating.
The first victim of the program was actually my friend, Sam. I was standing next to him in line when one of the fourth graders gut punched him. There was no reason for the punch, he was just small and in arm's reach. Sam got the wind knocked out of him, but he managed to gasp out the phrase stupid motherfucker right as the playground aide ran over to keep the peace.
(Sam had an incredible vocabulary for a 2nd grader. Consequence of his dad being a recently divorced mechanic.)
Puncher got a two week suspension. That was fine. But Sam got a one week one for verbal abuse, which was beyond the pale. But that’s just what zero-tolerance is, right? No hitting became a rule everyone had to follow, and it didn't stop when someone hit us. So our options as kids were to somehow make like Jesus and ascend up to heaven… or solve things ourselves.
We started solving things ourselves.
I'll be honest, I think that was always the plan. A school can do a lot of things to reduce bullying, but if the goal is zero, there's only one path forward: Shoot the messenger.
---
My part in the story was a few weeks after that. Long enough to know that the school's new unofficial policy was to suspend kids that reported problems, short enough to have no idea how to defend myself. It turned out the 4th grader that hit Sam was part of a trio, and that trio had their sights on me next.
I asked some of my classmates what to do, and they said that the best idea was to just ignore the bullies. Refuse to give them a reaction. That was dogshit advice, but it was common enough in the early 2000s and it's not like I can fault 2nd graders for not knowing much about life.
Anyway. I took the advice and I ignored my bullies. I ignored them when they said nasty things about my mom, and I ignored them when they bounced soccer balls off my head, and the one time I broke was when the biggest of the trio grabbed my arm hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. We were watching a movie in the gym when he did that, and I leaned over and told him he could hold my hand if he was scared of the dark. Which worked, thank God. The grip hurt bad enough I had to excuse myself for a bit to keep my composure.
I think a more mentally flexible kid would've changed strategies by then. Clearly, things were escalating. But it's hard for me to change my mind, so I stuck to my bad strategy, right up until the day the big kids caught me after school. I was crossing the baseball field when they got me. It was just one of those places you had to walk through to make it to the bike rack.
The big guy, again, was the instigator. He pushed me down then stood over me, yelling for me to get back up. But I knew that if I got back up, he'd just push me down again, and for whatever reason, their Bully Code didn't allow for kicking a kid that was already down. So I stuck to the grass, and they tried a bunch of things to goad me into standing back up. Eventually, I started kicking at them while on my back, and one of them took the opportunity to grab my leg. Second bully thought that looked fun, so he grabbed my other leg. Kicking me like that was off limits, but dragging wasn't, so they just started pulling me around that way.
They were so much taller than me that I was almost vertical during the pull so all my weight was put on my shoulders. And the fields were just made of unkind stuff. There was crushed gravel all over the place, spilled out from the divider between the big kid playground and the little kid playground, so every time they dragged me over a piece it just ripped a new gouge up my back. The ground itself was sunbaked caliche and dead crabgrass. There was a grit to it, like sand stuck to the outside of a clay pot.
It grated all the skin off my upper back. Everything between the bottom of my neck to the bottom of my shoulder blades. I don't know at what points I went from yelling, to screaming, to just crying, but I did, and I know they seemed almost giddy every time it changed. Eventually they finished off with one loop around the baseball diamond and that hurt the worst. The dust there stuck to the snot and spit all over my face and made it into a foul mud, and the same happened in my shirt. The dust stung like salt, and the gravel in the lines tore open a few more cuts for dirt to pour in. I remember them stopping, and actually crying again I was so relieved. It was done. Thank God, it was finally done. They were done hurting me.
They left me on my back near homebase. They'd finally got the reaction they were looking for.
It took me a few minutes after that to stagger back to my feet. I was able to wash the snot-mud off my face in the bathroom, but I couldn't bring myself to touch my back. It just felt like it was on fire. Then I made it back to the bike rack.
That’s where my older sister, Liz, was waiting for me. She was just a grade ahead of me but it always felt bigger than that. There’s some deep weight associated with being the oldest. She could see that I was dirty and tear soaked so she asked what happened. I didn’t know how to put it in words, so I just tried lifting my shirt to show her. It made a sticky, tacky sound coming up - like the plastic coat coming off a slice of American cheese. Tchhhhk.
I didn’t know how bad they’d got me before I heard that noise.
She looked at my back for maybe two seconds before telling me to put my shirt back down. I never actually looked at it when it was fresh, but I still had straggling scars by the time I got to highschool. Long silver-grey lines, visible mostly for the dirt still stuck in them. She looked a little sick when I turned around, but she kept it cool, which I really appreciated. I always hated crying in public, and I was half a hair from crying all over again. I don't think I'd have been able to keep it together if she'd freaked out too.
Instead, she just asked me some questions. Who did this, how long they’d been doing it, what I’d been doing, if I’d told anyone. Some 4th graders, a month, trying to ignore them, nobody.
She mulled those answers over. I could see her trying to chart a course forward - trying to figure out what it would take to solve this problem for good. She's always had this weird, sad, blank face that she'd make when she found a solution she didn't like. She'd make that face, then think some more, then make the face. Then think.
Eventually, she just made the face.
Don't tell the parents, she said. I can fix this. But only if you don’t tell them.
I believed her. She was the most capable person I knew, and her word was gold. So I didn't tell our parents. I biked home, and every drop of sweat that rolled down my back felt like acid on my skin. I remember getting home and beelining straight to the bath, because I needed something to put the fire out. Took that as my moment to cry it out again too. First time I'd cried was from pain, but the second time was from the cruelty. Second time took longer, but the nice thing about a cold bath is that the water never runs out. I could just pop the plug out with my toes and just keep rinsing and draining and rinsing and draining until my mind was as clean and empty and stark as the tub itself. Then I could go fill that emptiness up with Calvin and Hobbes.
It worked.
Mostly.
---
I spent the whole next week feeling nervous anytime I was outside and Liz wasn't nearby. Some days she'd beat me to the bike racks, and I'd be relieved as hell to just go home. Other days, I'd be the first one out, and then I'd have to spend a few minutes worrying about what I'd do if the big kids showed up. But they never did. Liz always got there just a few minutes later, and I'd pretend I hadn't been planning escape routes.
Friday, I was sweating by myself when she showed up a few minutes later than normal. She unlocked her bike but she didn't move to leave. She had this big, long cable-type lock, maybe six feet of braided steel. She folded it over in her hands so it looked like a swatter and swung it a few times in the air. Made it whistle like a falling anvil in a cartoon.
Today's baseball practice, she said. All Our Guys are on the baseball team.
Our Guys. Odd phrasing. Also, I actually hadn't known that about them, but I nodded along anyway. She wasn't really looking at me as she talked - she was inspecting the lock.
My plan, she continued, is to wait here until baseball's done. Me and you. When it gets time I'll send you outside the bike cage.
The cage was a chain link fence, maybe six feet tall, built all around the rack. They’d lock it after school as an extra precaution against bike thieves.
Your job, she continued, will be to hold the gate closed after they're all in. Keep em’ stuck. Think you can do that?
She was being very frank, which helped me think clearly. I didn't think I could actually hold the gate closed if all of them ran into it at once, but I knew where a big half broken cinder block was, and I knew if I could wedge it in there, it would hold. So I told her that.
Great, she said. Do that.
Then I went to go get the block. She gave the cable a few more experimental swings, right as I made it around the corner.
I'd been thinking in straight lines before that. Just meeting goals. It wasn't until that moment that I really allowed myself to know what was happening. That I allowed myself to have a choice.
I chose to jog a little faster. I wanted revenge.
---
I came back with the block a few minutes later, then we just talked like nothing was happening. The sun was shining, and we’d both gotten into bionicles, and it was easy to talk and be people. Normal, happy people.
But that feeling went away when I heard the coach tweet a long whistle. Me and Liz both knew that was the signal that practice was done. I walked out and got my bric while she folded the cable in half in her hand again. Then we both waited.
Eventually I saw the kids that drug me around the baseball diamond emerge from behind the portables. I watched them make a straight line back to the bike rack. They were laughing together, having a good time. Being normal. Like me and my sister. I realized I could let things be normal too. I saw my chance to let things go softball pitched to me, nice and easy, and I didn't even bother to swing. I didn't want normal anymore. I wanted this. I knew why my sister had that lock, and I'd thought about it, and I liked it.
God help me, I think I needed it.
The kids went inside the bike cage. I gave them ten paces head start, then put the cinder block under the gate. That was the signal Liz had been waiting for.
She blitzed those boys. There were three of them, and the smallest still had two inches on her, so they probably would have kicked her ass if they ever had a moment to think. But she never gave them that moment. She picked the biggest kid, and decided he needed the first blow. I remember how much muscle she put into that swing - the cable was so heavy, and she was so small, that it kind of swung her back as she made that first half spin. Like a dog getting wagged by its own tail.
It was a perfect connection. Flawless. She swung through her target, not at it, and the resulting slap that the cable made bouncing off the biggest kid's stomach was loud enough to echo through the cage. It brought a tear to my eye. It brought a tear to his eye too.
The trio split after that, bouncing around the cage like fresh broke billiards. I can't describe how Liz did it, exactly, but she managed to chase the boys back together so she could hit them all more efficiently. She had a real knack for getting them right between the shoulders, so I never got to see the real perfection of her work, but she wasn't above swinging for the arms or legs if that was all she had. Those marks I could see, and they were brutal. The welts were wider and thicker than my thumb, like giant purple worms were trying to burrow out of their skin. Some even bled. I cheered on every hit.
Liz, for her part, just had a sort of grim, single minded determination to her. She was so angry she was shaking, and so scared that tears just kept running down her face, and she was grinning all the way back to her molars, but the grin didn't get any bigger after a solid hit than a glancing one. When the kids started blubbering, she didn't change her process. I'd spent my time crying, she'd spent her time crying, of course they were getting theirs in too: That's what violence does. It brings tears. Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind.
Eventually, one of the kids split off from the main herd and scrambled up the fence, gecko-style. Liz let him go. It was either that, or take her attention off the other two. Easy choice.
Now, there were two kids left, the big one, and one of his smaller friends. Smaller friend did the same trick. I was worried he was gonna turn back, fight me and open the gate for his buddy, but he just fled for the hills. I remember thinking, damn, I hope they never forgive each other for this. I hope this ruins their whole friendship. I hope this festers into something awful.
The one kid that was left really was trapped though. He wasn't built for climbing and he had no one to work as a distraction for him. Every time he started trying to make it up the fence, my sister would just twist up like a spring, then swing the cable with both hands right into his spine. The slap it made every time she did that was loud enough to hurt my ears. He never made it more than two hits like that before hopping off the fence and just trying to run around some more. He could get Liz tangled up in the bikes for a bit if he really tried, but it never bought him enough time to actually get out. She'd always find her way out of the thicket, swing the cable, and send him running again.
Eventually, he just couldn't run anymore. He sat down, and my sister hit him a few times, telling him to stand up. He refused. He knew he was gonna get hit either way, so he might as well get hit sitting down. He put his arms up after a bit and let those take a beating too. Eventually he just started begging her to stop. So she did.
He cried he was so relieved. I remembered how that felt: It’s done. Thank God, it’s finally done. They’re done hurting me.
Liz told me to come in and show him my back. I took my shirt off, and I showed him a scab as large as a dinner plate. Cracked up like dry river mud.
He looked sick. Started babbling about how he didn't know. Said he thought I was crying because I was just a kid - that he didn't know he was actually hurting me. That he'd just wanted to get a rise out of me and didn't know it would take so much.
He didn't know he'd gone too far until it was too late.
And suddenly, it was like looking in a mirror.
Two snotty, welted boys, crying alone in the dirt. Backs burning like fire. Ashamed. Trapped. Realizing that they'd just done something awful, and worse, that they’d dragged the people that meant the most to them along for the ride.
I hated him more at that moment than when he drug me over gravel. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill anything but their own brokenness reflected. Looking at him was unbearable. Like staring straight into the sun.
I could've hit him again if I hadn't just gorged myself on violence. But I had. I was fat with it, sick and aching - anything more and I would have puked. So I just told him to get his bike and go. Please. Just go.
He did. He staggered to his feet, and he grabbed his bike before running away like all the demons in hell were following behind. All bar two. There was a swingset nearby, and once he was fully out of sight, Liz and I walked over to it. We picked two seats next to each other and sat for a while, talking until our hands stopped shaking. Can’t remember about what. We didn’t really know how to process what had just happened. Still don’t, to be honest.
Then we went home.
---
Thanks to @elisabethdeep-blog, @foldingfittedsheets, @amateurmasksmith, @caramel-catss @arataya, and @rozenkingdom for being my alpha readers.
And thanks @lizardho, for being my first friend, my best friend, and my childhood bodyguard. I know it took a toll on you. I'm truly sorry.
