#^ memory wise. but we are relatively certain we are not completely wrong here

[femmefaggot]

saw someone say gus was the main character of psych. ik they meant one of the main characters. but not even true ? "hes one of the only black characters whose story isnt there to progress the white characters" baby...? was he not just glorified comic relief with 30% more plot/character development??? his character was "nerdy best friend/straight man" and he was nearly always pretty much just the straight man. just with somewhat more agency.

[vtuberconfessions]

This isn't just an oversight this is Froot's strategic lying by omission. Froot's playing a game of selective storytelling leaving out the parts where she's the one crossing boundaries all while playing the victim. If you're writing your own hero's journey you better make sure the audience doesn't catch wind of the parts where you're sneaking off to an immorally evil aligned quest while still married to the original protagonist. Let's talk about the internet's favorite pastime when the Froot Saga first blew up you better believe her fans were crawling out of the woodwork to defend her like she was the second coming of Saint Joan of Arc. Looking at you Jtoegi and your youtuber videos sychophanticing over her. They took her ninety page pity parade at face value praising her for her bravery and strength, meanwhile the leaked DMS were circulating and the simps either conveniently ignored them or dismissed them like they were some baseless smear campaign de synchronizer. Her ex even commented on how back then nobody believed him, it's no wonder certain vtuber fan bases can be blind loyal cult fanatics and Froot's fanbase army are no different. Asmongold even got shushed by VShojo staff to remove his video about Froot, which happened after her ninety page manifesto on twitter. Showing how corruptively resourceful the Vshojo company really is. The irony here is staggering the fans who spent years praising Froot for her honesty were completely blind to the fact that she left out half the story. So what does Froot do about all this she's been relatively relying on her own quietness taking advantage of her mental disability with addressing her fake victim manifesto, Froot's strategy ignore avoid and hope the internet's goldfish memory flushes it out behind piled up history. But here's the thing these DMS have been floating around since 2022 at 4chan and Kiwifarms and they paint a very different picture than the one she's so carefully curated in her long winded narrative. You can't have it both ways, you can't present yourself as a wronged wife fighting for autonomy and empowerment while cheating your husband for CinnaStix on the side and expect someone far more wise and with veteran experience with crime to call you out on it. The fact that she didn't even address these messages shows that she's not interested in telling the full story just the parts where she comes out looking like a victim. So what are we left with a narrative full of holes, emotional inconsistencies, selective evidence, and a whole lot of mental gymnastics to make it all work. Froot's manifesto isn't a tale of survival and redemption it's a carefully crafted engineered Feminist Role Model PR move to save face while leaving out the details that could hurt her image. This ninety page manifesto, it's not the cathartic honest confession it pretends to be. It's a half baked attempt at damage control where Froot conveniently sidesteps accountability while piling all on her ex husband as her intended scapegoat to take the fall as the greater scope source of villainy through the use of her slander.

.

[embermc]

I’m still not over what happened to Ghostbur on Doomsday. There is no way to properly justify what happened to Ghostbur on Doomsday. And while I’m still absolutely happy that Ghostbur called out Doomsday’s perpetrators out on needlessly hurting and involving innocent pets, buildings and people in their conflict (even if he was one of the only ones that did at the time), I’m still really sad that he had to do that.

(Analysis under the cut, /rp)

Ghostbur was right, and he’s so much smarter than people think. I’m really glad that he called out how not okay it was for Techno and Phil to destroy buildings, and kill innocent pets and people just because of their conflict with a few people. That’s the main reason why Doomsday is so unjustified: because it took a conflict between a few people and needlessly involved everyone else in it, hurting innocent people and pets that did nothing wrong. Remember Ranboo sadly apologizing to his pets when he realized he couldn’t save all of them? Remember Karl’s distraught when he found out what happened to Party Island? Remember Ghostbur’s complete breakdown when he lost Friend and saw the nation he worked hard to rebuild get utterly destroyed?

Nothing could justify what happened to Ghostbur, and yes, I’m glad he finally called someone out on their Doomsday nonsense, but I’m sad at the conditions he had to do it in. Nobody ever took him seriously. Everyone just saw him as some silly, unfeeling ghost, and treated him like such. He was treated like a child by many, despite being a fully-grown adult. People like Techno and Phil didn’t even think he would feel any emotion after having everything he loved and cared about destroyed. They didn’t think he would understand or comprehend, so they didn’t even bother to take his emotions into consideration. They treated him like a small, stupid child, with no emotions of his own.

Ghostbur’s not a small child, and he wasn’t stupid. He acted childlike as a defense mechanism to cope with trauma, but he was always a fully capable adult. He forgets things that bring him pain, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a skilled, intellectually capable person able to process emotion. He build an entire nation, he weighed moral dilemmas (as in, choosing who to help in scenarios and taking into account who needed him at a certain time), and he genuinely tried to mend relationships he felt needed fixing. He was always relatively a pacifist, he didn’t want to get involved in wars, and just wanted people to be happy. He wanted to spread happiness and make up for the past mistakes of a man he doesn’t even remember.

But the physically powerful people on the server, people like Techno, Dream, and even his own father, Phil, looked at someone who was pacifistic, easygoing, and optimistic and only saw saw someone who wasn’t worth being taken seriously. And that’s another common theme on the server. People who are more powerful, particularly physically but often with charisma and manipulation as well, are regarded with more inherent worth and are taken more seriously than those who don’t possess these traits, or choose not to possess them. People like Techno, Phil, and Dream have their opinions constantly validated, their motives are taken seriously, and their threats are feared. People like Alivebur and Schlatt, who had a lot of charisma and verbal power, were taken seriously and treated as genuine threats when need be. But people like Ghostbur? People who prefer to be peaceful, non-confrontational, and want to spread happiness and joy without worrying about wars and pain, and are typically optimistic? They’re often disregarded, treated as if their emotions and opinions don’t matter.

That’s exactly what happened here, and exactly what Ghostbur gets upset with Phil about. He said it himself: “I may be forgetful, and I may be an amnesiac, and I may be the comic relief in all your stories, but I still feel this. I still feel things...” People, particularly Phil here, assumed that just because Ghostbur was forgetful, constantly optimistic, and a comic relief character, he couldn’t feel the enormous amounts of pain being inflicted on him. They assumed he wouldn’t comprehend Doomsday and wouldn’t comprehend his world being torn apart, because he was just some dim-witted, unfeeling ghost. Like a small child who doesn’t understand the world going on around him. While this can also play into Phil’s character because he lost his son, and he desperately wants to make everything seem like he has a second chance to raise his son from early childhood, this mentality is beyond unfair to Ghostbur. Because Ghostbur CAN feel things, he CAN feel pain, he just desperately doesn’t want to. He wants to avoid feeling any form of negative emotion or pain whatsoever, and wants to repress his negative feelings and pretend to be happy. But in this moment, when he confronts Phil, he finally bursts.

This is what ultimately lead Ghostbur to realize that he needed to become Wilbur again. Being Ghostbur, being somebody with little to no strength or power whether it be physical or verbal, would only lead to more hardship and suffering for him and his friends. He realizes that he’ll never be taken seriously as he is, not even by those closest to him. Phil’s line at the end of their conversation says it all, “Someday, you’ll understand.” It’s a condescending line, as if he was speaking to a small child. It’s an assumption that Ghostbur’s current emotions and beliefs are incorrect, and invalid. It’s an assumption that Ghostbur doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and still has a lot of “growing up” to do. But Ghostbur can’t grow up. He can’t change, at least not in this form. He’s dead.

Ghostbur realized, through being forced to face suffering and tragedy head-first, that he couldn’t stay the way he was. And as sad as it is, it’s honestly such a fitting end to his arc. Through a situation that is similar to the one that Alivebur put everyone through, a situation that he had tried to repress from his memories, he realized that repressing all of his emotions and putting on a cheerful, child-like facade was not going to get him anywhere. Ghostbur is confronted with a horribly tragic scenario that he can’t ignore, can’t repress. He can’t pretend to be happy anymore and simply forget about what happened, since there’s nothing left to return to if he does. The only “understanding” that Ghostbur reached wasn’t the one that Phil and Techno were trying to teach everyone through violence and suffering. The understanding he reached was that he would never be taken seriously or have his emotions validated if he chose to stay as a happy, forgetful ghost. He needed to regain the sense of strength that Alivebur had, because that sense of strength is the only thing that will allow him to be taken seriously in this world. That sense of strength, of charisma, of verbal power and leadership, is the only thing that would allow him to truly be happy and not have to suffer anymore. He couldn’t go on repressing everything, which is a positive message that sadly came from a very negative situation.

Ghostbur had a fantastic arc, but what happened to him on Doomsday is still so, so sad. It wasn’t justified what was done to him, but it ended up furthering his character arc. He did learn a lesson, but it wasn’t the one that Phil and Techno were trying to teach. However, it was still one that sadly came from much more suffering and pain than he should have gone through. In a narrative sense, it’s extremely well-written for Ghostbur’s specific arc and very poetic. Yet, it was still someone having to learn through suffering and pain. Maybe that’s what had to be done, narrative-wise. Ghostbur had to be presented with a situation that he couldn’t repress or ignore in order for him to learn that his coping mechanisms would get him nowhere. But that doesn’t mean that what was done to him, the pain inflicted on him, was justified, and in fact, it was very tragic. All we can do is hope that from here, whatever happens to the newly resurrected Wilbur leads him to a future of healing, and at last, happiness.

[the-necessary-unnecessary]

hey, can you tell us a bit about racism in Spain? I'm incredibly uneducated about it, and I don't know much about Spanish history especially racism wise so it would be really nice to get an insight from you about it.

this is a big question, since Spain’s relationship with xenophobia dates back centuries and I’m neither the most qualified person to take you through it nor someone who has suffered from Spanish society’s racist tendencies. However I’ll try to piece a bit of something together and maybe other people can add on if there’s other stuff to include. Also, this is mainly Spanish history from a racism perspective, there are many other positive things in other areas that I haven’t included (patriota pero no mucho)

So basically, up until the 15th century, Spain (in its then form) was a relatively harmonious melting pot of different cultures. With the Roman invasion, settlements and a Visigoth takeover (Germanic population) thereafter, Christianity was pretty firmly established in the country/iberian peninsula by the 2nd Century AD. In 711 AD the Moors, who had control over Islamic Africa, invaded the peninsula and established a Caliphate named Al-Andalus which had a particular stronghold in the south: in Andalusia and their Córdoban capital. Rule was stronger or weaker depending on the region but largely Islamic rule was established and Jewish and Catholic people were treated as second class citizens. Córdoba became the wealthiest, largest and most sophisticated city in Europe by the end of the tenth century, with trade and rich intellectual North African traditions forming a unique culture in the region.

There is a strong historical basis that during a lot of this period there was pockets of ‘La Convivencia’ ie. the co-existence of Jews, Christians, and Muslims. Like for example, around Toledo where in universities the three backgrounds contributed to tremendous amounts of sharing of knowledge etc.

However, from about the 9th century onwards the Catholics who still held strong points right in the north, begun ‘la Reconquista’, the “reconquest,” where they began chipping away at the Caliphate’s dominance. By the early 11th century they had gained more land than was held by the Muslims and 1492 is where we set our next scene.

This is probably one of the biggest and most path changing years in Spanish history. Most known for being the year when Columbus landed in America, this enabled the start of Spanish imperlism which would extend to almost 5 centuries afterwards, conquering territories in South America, Africa and Asia and subjecting them to imperialistic rule and policies of white totalitarian dominance.

The second important happening in this year was the fall of Granada, the last remaining territory the Caliphate had in Spain, signifying the end of Muslim rule in the country. They were, as expected, thrown out of the country in their droves and many others were forced into hiding being subject to situations that would only get worse with the Inquisition in full swing.

The third, and last, big event in this year was outlined in the Alhambra Decree where the expulsion of all practicing Jews was announced. Now this had already followed the forced conversion tens of thousands of Jews had been subjected to in 1391 and 1415 (ie. crusades and masacres against them). As a result of the Alhambra decree and the prior persecution, over 200,000 Jews converted to Catholicism and around 160,000 were expelled.

This ended religious diversity in Spain, the Inquisition sealed this fate. If you’ve heard of one thing about all of this I’m sure it’s the spanish inquisition. Primarily set up to identify heretics among those who converted from Judaism and Islam to Catholicism and ensure the establishment of the Catholic monarchy, it became a method of torture, fear and murder for those who were perceived to cause any threat to the Spanish catholic order. The effects of the Inquisition are widely debated, with some saying the death toll and magnitude has been blown up by the Protestants in other European countries at the time and does not show the full picture of the hundreds of thousands of converted jews and muslims who remained and overtime became integrated into Catholic society. Whilst others remaining firm to the devastating measure of these actions and the ‘pure blood’ mentality it created. What’s for certain though, is that by the end of the Inquisition in 1834 very little religious nor ethnic diversity remained in Spain.

Jump forward about 100 years and the Spanish Empire is no more after the 1898 crisis, there’s a weird back and forth period with Republics and Monarchies and dictatorships until the Civil War broke out in 1936. It lasted until 1939 when the Nationalists, led by Franco, took total control of the country and submitted it to a dictatorship that would last until his death in 1975. I don’t even know where to begin with a period that many people see as rosy and many others ignore completely whilst Historians have now gone so far as to call the 1940s and 50s the ‘Spanish Holocaust’. However I’ll break it down to one or two main things that have predominantly spurred on today’s racist attitudes.

During the Civil Rights movements of the 50s and 60s Spain was largely immune to the winds of changes due to their isolationist policies and dictatorial power holds. We didn’t take part in any of the dialogue nor go through any racial reconciliation, at least to much a lesser extent than most other countries. It’s quite a common thing to say that what much of europe did in 70 years we’ve only had time to do in 45, and there’s much of a grain of truth in this.

A famous conservative spanish politician called David Aznar defended these views and can be extrapolated into the sentiment that existed to facilitate the transition to democracy and still remain today: "In the democratic transition there were implicit and explicit agreements. One was that we Spaniards don't want to look to the past. Let's not disturb the graves and hurl bones at one another.” As a society, we hate to think about the past, it’s just not widely done. There’s ONE museum solely dedicated to the Civil War, the Historical Memory Law passed in 2007 to try and increase the rights of victims and their families was met by so much opposition and is devastatingly underfunded etc etc. This still translates to spaniards’ views on racism, saying it just doesn’t exist here and moving on. There’s a refusal to confront this and microagressions are ingrained in the culture.

As I’ve kind of mentioned before, issues of race extend much further than towards just black people which is why the US BLM movement cannot simply be traced onto Spain. People who are originally from Latin America face extreme stereotypes and varying forms of discrimination against them as do Arab populations and other people who have immigrated from MENA countries plus the large Roma communities. 

The refugee crisis has further perpetuated the stigma around African immigrants in the past years, whilst the social effects of the 2008 Financial Crisis and beyond also continue to contribute to a xenophobic and nativist perspective where true spaniards should be prioritised with jobs, opportunities etc. For example, the alt-right wing party Vox that’s blatantly racist, anti-immigrants etc posted something with the slogan ‘Spanish Lives Matter’ the other day. They are purposefully incendiary.  

Anyways, hope this was a suitable start for you, you can’t summarise millennia worths of history into a few paragraphs but I tried my best. Also there are obviously many who stand for none of these values, politicians who have tried to right these wrongs, activists who keep fighting the fight, people who have broken down barriers and areas where there’s complete coexistance. However the fact remains that these views and ideas are ingrained in people’s minds, theres blatant job discrimination and a lack of equal opportunities despite laws that may have been put in place.

I’m going to point anyone who has got this far to a couple of articles about racism from an Anglo-Saxon perspective below, racist football culture is almost always mentioned. Being a black traveller in Spain; Same Spanish Holocaust link as before but an extremely important book review read; Irish perspective on the Enigma of Spanish Racism; Racism? What Racism? Asks Spain; Opinion: Racism Is Alive and kicking in Spain

[mentally-dating-din-djarin]

I was able to say goodbye to my uncle that passed recently. Now I'm sitting here crying like a baby. Partly because of grief. But also partly because it was a further reminder that when my father eventually goes I won't be anywhere near this emotional, if at all.

I'm going to put the rest under the cut. I know this post will be long and people probably won't even read it. But it feels good to finally open up about everything that I've been holding in for so long. I've only ever told one person about all this and I haven't even told her everything that I'm about to say.

People were telling stories and happy memories about my uncle. How he did so many things with his kids, spending time with them doing things they enjoyed. Even after they were grown and out of the house. He would do anything for them. His health was never the best, especially in later years, and he never had a whole lot of money. But if his kids needed him to fix something or to just be there, he was even if he wasn't feeling well. He would give them the last dollar he had if they needed it. He raised a child that he always knew wasn't his. He never treated him any less than his own. I never even knew he wasn't his kid until I was a lot older. That's how much he treated him like his own. Then when his wife left him and had another kid, he treated him like his own. Even though he had absolutely no obligation too. My father can't even treat kids that he 100% knows are his like that.

My father was almost never home. Claiming he was working but I know better now. Even if he was home, he didn't do stuff with us. If he did, it was what he wanted to do. We never got to watch what we wanted to on tv because he didn't want to watch it. Then fell asleep anyway and yelled if we tried changing the channel when he did.

My uncle treated his kids and everyone he knew with love and respect, blood or not. I've always been a quiet, timid, and shy person. But I was never afraid of him. But for as long as I can remember I've been afraid of my father.

Especially as I got older. I guess being older meant it was ok to treat me worse. I walk on eggshells in my own house because I don't know what will set him off. I'm afraid to go downstairs and get something to eat because he always had a comment. About what I was eating or the time I was eating it at. I used to be afraid to shower after a certain time thinking he would yell at me. My bedroom is right above his office so he can hear me all the time. I can't watch things I want to, like Game of Thrones, because he tries to say I'm watching porn. Then says more nasty and degrading things because of it.

Today at my uncle's memorial, his one daughter who has a style completely her own talked about how he handled that. He loved her unconditionally, no matter what she looked like. She said he would just look at her for a second, then give her a shit eating grin and go on with whatever they were doing. No comment, no insult, no acting embarrassed to be near her.

Digging comments about my appearance has always been a favorite go to for my father to hurt me. When I dye my hair, he has a comment. When I wear a dress, which I rarely do because I hate dealing with the comments, he always says something. Not because it's revealing or anything, just because he feels the need to say something. If I wear something a little weird or that might get looks, he would say something. Making me change or saying that I had to stay home if I was going to wear it. He didn't want to be embarrassed by how I looked.

But the biggest thing that hurts the most, my weight. No matter how much I weigh apparently it's not good enough. When I was younger, I was skinnier than everyone in my family. Not so much so that gave any credit to what I'm about to say next, just smaller than my family members. People, and I can almost guarantee that he started it, tried saying I had an eating disorder. This pissed me off because that's a serious thing, and to try to make it a joke was just horrible. I have gained weight since then. I'm almost 30, so yeah I'm going to get bigger. Never big enough that it's an issue, health wise or other. I just get self conscious with what I wear sometimes. But then last year, he was talking to my aunt on the phone and he always sits there badmouthing us. He said to her that I was going to end up on the television show My 800 Pound Life. That's not even the show, he just had to make it worse. But at this point I was actually losing weight because of stress from my home life. Even before the stress I only went over 200 pounds years before when I had stress from a bunch of relatives passing so close to each other. So nowhere near as big as he tries to say I am.

Now that I'm older my mom doesn't shield me from how he's apparently always been. He told my older brother from my mom's first marriage that he only married her so he'd have someone to take care of him when he got older. I found out a few years back that he was cheating on my mom. Then I found out he's basically been doing it my whole life. He took that a step further the other year by having someone over when I was home. And as I said before, my room is above his. So I heard everything. It made me physically sick.

I don't open up about my home life because any time I tried to people acted like I was lying or that it wasn't that bad. "He's your father, you should love him./ You're exaggerating, I doubt it's that bad./ Well he's never physically hit you so stop whining because it could be worse."

When my father eventually does go, how will I be at his funeral? I won't be able to share happy and funny stories or memories because I have none. Even if I did, they've slowly been replaced with fear and loathing.

How can care about and respect someone who treats you like less than dirt on the bottom of their shoe. He never cared about us. He probably never even wanted us. He knows more about his friend's kids than he does about his own. Kids that refuse to speak to him and he has the nerve to tell people that he doesn't know why.

It's hell living in a war zone in your own house. But we're all at the point that we don't want to back down and leave. Because this is our house too and why should we have to leave.

The only memories I can think of are bad ones. Like when I was younger, like I don't even think I was 10, and he was gone all day and missed dinner so he ordered pizza. He told us we could have some. So I got me and my siblings plates. We were behind him, waiting for him to get his pizza so we could get some. Apparently this was wrong. He didn't get his, turned around and stomped over to his recliner to sit down and yelled at us to get ours since we were so impatient. I just put my plate down and went up to my room. I didn't want it if I was going to get yelled at about it. About an hour later he yelled up the stairs for me. When I asked what he wanted he said there was still pizza down there. He always tried to act like he didn't just scream at you for nothing. Tried to be nice so you would just brush over what happened.

Another memory that really scared me. When I was in middle school, me and my sister were hanging out with a friend. Just walking around and talking. There's an alley behind our house and we went down it to walk our friend home before going home ourselves. As we were going down it, I heard someone yell "You better not go down that alley." It ended up being a neighbor that told our parents we went down the alley. It was kinda dark at this point so I can see not wanting us to go down the alley, but my father's reaction was just ridiculous. I went inside before my sister so he "interrogated" me about it. I ended up telling him and was crying at this point. My sister came inside and he asked her about it. She tried to lie, not knowing I already told him. He pushed her into a wooden cabinet that was in our kitchen. Not enough to hurt her but he still shouldn't have done it. I went to my room at this point, trying to get away from him so he could calm down. I was in my room crying when my mom came up. She said that my father said we grounded for a week. No phone, no friends, and he wanted us home right after school. And I mean right after, like 10 minutes after we were let out or he was coming to find us. I guess more than that and we weren't respecting the fact that we were grounded. You couldn't even drive to school in 10 minutes with all the kids and traffic, let alone walk which we did. I remember basically running home and still taking longer than 10 minutes. My mom wouldn't let him yell at me for that, because I obviously came right home. All this crap for walking down a damn alley.

I haven't thought about a lot of this stuff in a long time. But with how he treats us now it just keeps popping back into my head.

For anyone that has actually taken the time to read this, even if you don't say anything to it, I greatly appreciate it. I haven't opened up like this, I honestly think ever. I don't know if it's because none of you really know me. Or I just see other people talking about horrible things in their life and it gives me courage. I love all of you, even if we've never talked.

[brahmachari-girish-ji-blog]

Learning from Time

The learning from Time should be taken on time, it is the guidance of veteran and learned men. It is literally true. The time of Corona has come, there has been an outcry in the whole world. The death toll has crossed two lakh, no one is sensing anything, the market of rumors is hot.

Till now we used to hear, ''as many things as number of mouths'' now are hearing ''thousands of things from every mouth''. Even in times of crisis, number of people does not have sense of wisdom. Frivolous politics is continuing, the blame is on the culmination, the useless people are accusing the sincere, the sincere and responsible leaders are troubled by their responsibilities and worries, there is no one to encourage and support them, they are kind of isolated, days and nights of planning and decision are falling short. It is said that time is very strong, the big Surmas of their time are not known today. In a song heard recently, it says that in their time, without their will or command, not even a single leaf of their kingdom was shaken, the Raja-Maharaja Chakravarti who use to build a grand memorial on the death of every member of their family, no one knows where their own funeral took place. We are discussing about Time here. Nobody could win from Time. It seems that time, history and nature are all very close relatives of a family. Whatever is happening, is happening by these three or in the cognizance of these three. By the way, the blame is given to Lord Brahma that everything is written by him. Opponents of Lord Vishnu are in a good number, everything is happening with his Maya, such blame is put on Lord Vishnu. The interesting thing is that neither Brahma nor Vishnu is seen, nor is there any effect seen on them of our words nor any response comes from them. Regarding nature, she does not leave without showing reaction. The Lord Krishna said in the Gita, ''Mayadhyekan Prakritihi, Suyate sa Characharam''. Lord Vishnu does nothing. He enjoys Yoganidra on the bed of Sheshnaga in the Ksheer Sagar and his nature in the entire world keeps shaping his work - with the Maya created by him.

Time can be considered innocent, as the leela of the Lord, he continues to perform the work. Yes, it might not be wrong to put him in the role of a teacher. Time only plays a big role in teaching. And Itihasa-History? It does not seem to have any special role in the formulation, implementation, education, planning of any of these areas. He simply keeps it on record when the work is done. Therefore, History is not worth blaming.

As it is thought about the role of Time, it is for sure that we learn a lot from Time. It conducts everyone's life remotely, it is not visible but leaves an indelible influence, does not tolerate anyone, does not forgive anyone,perhaps Dharmaraja- Yamraj and Chitragupta are close relatives of Time. It is definitely seen that nature nourishes the person who nurtures nature in his life. In the same way it is also certain that the one who is respectful to the Time, following it's rules, took it along with him, the Time was favourable for him, his days were auspicious, kept on teaching well, gave alertness, and finally kept giving salvation. It has always been an eternal truth, it is still today and it will be tomorrow also, because Time is most powerful. In today's situation,what Time is teaching us, let's take a little thought on this. In my view, Time is reminding one of life's greatest learning that life is fragile. No one knows when to go and for what reason. A small, invisible cause has taken the lives of more than 200,000 people in a short span of time and may take many more, no one knows how many. The top scientists of the world are researching day and night about its nature, structure, behavior, effect and antidote, it has been four months but it is still not possible to reach the final result. Everyone's hopes for life, longevity are eternal, but it is not right to be fascinated by it. Hope and imagination are right, but hope and imagination are real, it is not appropriate for the common man to believe, the matter of wise and perfect men is different.

Therefore, the first thing is to perform the duties of life in such a way that there is never anything pending. When the call comes, just go.

The second important thing is to always do good things in life. Everyone knows the consequences of bad deeds, a doubt always hides in the mind, having the record that one has done these bad deeds and do not know if there will be any time to rectify them. At the last moment of life, the accounts of one's own actions are revealed, but till then it is very late, then there is no opportunity to rectify, then one has to leave the world with that account only.

The third thing is to learn to audit your life in time. Who is closest to us in life, who is far away, who is the enemy and who is the hidden enemy, Time is the best teacher for all this. There has been a lockdown for the last one month, we are just compelled to stay in our homes. Everyone has their own requirements. Some need food, some need regular home supply, some want children's goods, some are craving for restaurant food, some have lost their job, some have lost business, some got stuck thousands of kilometers away from family, some have to postpone their marriage, some lost their close family member and could not attend the last rites. Many individuals, many institutions, governments have come forward to help. There is no scale to measure how much help is really being received. The greatest help we can give is peace of mind, consolation, strength. It is more valuable than all goods. But its lacking everywhere. Actually, at this time we learn who is receiving what and from whom.

During lockdown, everyone is provided opportunity to work from home. The government ordered that everyone should be given full salary. There is no account or record of work people doing at home. Many are not in touch and have not reported at all for the past one month. They are invisible like ''horns from donkey's head''. They did not even try to find out the status of their subordinates, colleagues, officers, or the situation of their organisation. Yes those who received Rs. 50 or 100 less in salary, they immediately contacted the Finance Department to find out the reason. This is the opportunity for us to correct the list of sincere/loyal and useless people. Who is responsible, who is dedicated and devoted or not concert at all for the organisation, this has been tested during this past one month. Time taught, the list is corrected for the future. The scores of the loyal and opportunists are changed in record. Apart from this, Time also taught a lot other things. Today a girl from our school said, ''Sir, it was forbidden to bring mobile phones to school by now, see today the whole school has come to mobile''. It is a fact. Till yesterday we wanted to keep children away from mobile, today the same medium has become the main medium for children's education. If anything is used properly for a good cause, then it proves to be a useful and helpful tool. Since last year, universities were not clear why UGC was trying to stop the distance education offering in large number of universities in India. Universities were being harassed by making new strange rules. All the universities which have prepared programmes for distance education in last several years after hard work and spending crores of rupees, all of them are compelled to just waste their efforts. Now see the how the Time has changes, now the same U.G.C. is singing the song of online education. Time has reminded us of Ashta Prakriti, rise from the ground and see the order of ego. The first prakrati starts from the earth, rises and at the end the mind,intellect goes full on the ego. When the nature of this ego changes from the nature of self-respect, to the nature of pride, when ''swa''-self is left out of it, then the human falls on the first prakrati-prathvi-earth. It should be understood. The balance of the Ashtaprakratees should be maintained,this will happen only when the basis of Ashtaprakrateesis in the 9th Prakrati- Para Prakrati, the transcendental field of prakrati. Otherwise the tree of life, like the tree without good roots or with damages roots, will be ruined at any time.

In addition, time also showed a change in relationships. Till now we use to look at the police with the image having a stick and a gun. Now the police are also seen cooking food, distributing food, raising young children in their lap and holding the hand of an old man or woman across the road, singing and dancing on the road in public interest and even facing attacks.

Charitable was the word of the dictionary for most people, now its experimental meaning is understood. Families with average economic status are also regularly providing food to some needy families. Some of my familiar physicians said that on normal days, they used to experience exhaustion on completing their working hours and use to come home. Now they work for 18 to 22 hours. The realization of responsibility has added unique energy to them. Now there is no more tiredness in working extra hours, they are always refreshed with satisfaction of service.

The teachers of my schools told me that they were not ​​working on holidays earlier. But now they are working seven days of the week. How much more knowledge to give to their students so quickly, this is the only agenda they have. what's all this? This is all the teaching of Time. Apart from this, how should be the thoughts, how should be the behavior, how should be the speech, how to have a happy life in spite of limited resources, how to make extrovert mind introvert, how to generate infinite organizing power from the deep peaceful ocean of eternal knowledge, it is all the teaching of Time. Time has given the so much blessings through teaching in a short period on the pretext of Corona, for that let us give BIG THANKS to TIME, express our gratitude to Time.

Jai Guru Dev, Jai Maharishi Brahmachari Girish Chairman - Maharishi Group of Educational Institutions 

[ephemeralxiv]

he talks so much im so sorry | Jin | Trial 1-3 | RE: Hikaru, Cris, Junko, Yuna (indirectly) | ATTN: Akash, Miharu

Tch. Not bad, kid. If this guy had to talk down to him to feel better, it spoke far more to Hikaru’s character than it did to his. It didn’t get a reaction beyond a vaguely furrowed brow in the moment, but the little Telltale popup saying “Jin will remember this.” definitely showed up for a second there. He’ll… address Cris’s point and Junko’s whatever that was first, since he has far less to say about either of those.

“You- you ate the glue??? What is- ugh, you know what, it’s not important right now. It was mixed using the ingredients left scattered in the kitchen, so you’ll live...”

“... for now. I’m going to tell you this now: don’t eat random substances that you find just lying around. Unless you have some sort of death wish, in which case by all means continue.”

Even Jin hadn’t thought he needed to account for eating strange substances in his assessment of the group’s collective foolishness. Evidently, he would need to take that into consideration and recalculate once the trial was over.

“Not necessarily a bed theory, Castillo-Mishra, but it’s fairly unlikely that anyone who would wear a wig to hide their natural hair here would take it off in public just to handle the glue. At any point in the process between mixing the glue and carrying it to the library, they would have been able to come up with an excuse as to why they had it or were making it. Most people wouldn’t even think to suspect their intentions were to glue a door shut, so not wearing their hypothetical wig at that point would have been far more suspicious, don’t you agree?”

“While I will concur that this motive seems like a strong fit for HOSHI, I have a hard time believing she would go to all the trouble of setting up a trap like that when it would be far easier for her to prepare an ambush of some sort instead. She’s managed to sneak up on me before when she wasn't actively trying to kill me. I'd imagine she would use that to her advantage when it came time to actually kill someone, since while a bit riskier in the moment, it would also leave less evidence behind if she were to simply sneak up on someone and kill them that way. Even barring that, it’s obvious that despite everything, she’s extremely committed to the HOSHI persona. If she is wearing a wig, why would she have taken it off in public? If someone caught her she could just give them some cryptic nonsense and they'd probably just accept that it was HOSHI being HOSHI.”

It’s clear that he’s not exactly thrilled to be speaking up in someone else’s defense, and is mostly doing so out of an obligation to Not Be Wrong About This. Anyways.

“As for you, Kakimasu, you seem like you’ve got at least a decent head on your shoulders.”Jin’s definitely only saying that because he agreed with him. “So I’m going to be nice and assume you made a mistake when you implied that I would be stupid enough to bring up all those points just to incriminate myself. The circumstances wouldn’t lend themselves well to that sort of bluff, you know.”

Yeesh.

“Regardless, at times such as these, it may be wise to be as thorough as possible. Therefore, I will spell it out for you all once again. It’s perfectly simple as to why I couldn’t have done it - the location, means, and motive don’t add up.”

“First and foremost, why would I kill someone in the library? It’s one of the only places here that I actually like. It would be too easy to tie me to the scene if that were the case.”

God, what a nerd.

“Furthermore, I could not have set up that mechanism. In theory, perhaps it might not sound too difficult on paper. In practice, however, the culprit would have had to scale the statue to accomplish what they did. Physical ability is not something that I would consider a priority. While I would not say I am particularly out of shape, that sort of climb would not be possible for me. At least, not if it were to be accomplished in a timely manner.”

“Given that we have established that the culprit was working as quickly as they could, the notion that I would be physically capable of this is preposterous. While I am certain that is proof enough, allow me to continue. I believe my next point will remove any potential remaining doubts on this matter.”

“There’s the matter of the additional motive - having all memories of your talent completely erased. If you think for a second that I would be moved to throw away everything I’ve worked so hard to accomplish, I almost pity how severely you’ve managed to delude yourself. I’ll acknowledge the fact that Sasanari said that the motive would only open the option of having all memories of one’s talent erased. It’s not a guaranteed thing that the sole motivation for this crime was anything but resetting the timer. However, given the advance warning of the great personal risk any potential killer would accept, this still leaves me without a motive. If you still have to ask why, I’ll say it for you outright.”

“I don’t care enough about any of you to take that chance. I've expressed before that I was confident someone else would act and spare me the trouble. Think of me what you will, but I have no desire or need to commit a murder. Though to be perfectly honest, even if nobody else had and that timer had continued to tick down?"

“I would sooner let that bomb go off and kill us all than risk being the only one to die. If I cannot guarantee success in something as drastic as murder, I have no reason to commit it. There are too many variables that are entirely out of my hands. Even if I came up with a theoretically perfect crime, it would be no guarantee. In a limited space with limited resources, the likelihood of being able to accomplish even a theoretically perfect crime is drastically diminished. Despite the fact that I could easily outwit you, there is a non-negligible chance that I and I alone would die as a result. Even if it was by some fluke, my chances of getting caught are not 0. If there was any kind of chance that I was going to die, you better bet I'd take whatever option would bring you pitiful specimens down with me.Understand?”

Wow, there's a lot going on there. And he hasn't even gotten to his other point yet! Almost all of that was just talking about himself, so without any further ado:

“Anyways. I brought up the motive for a reason beyond just arguing in my own defense. Shinohara’s got long hair, and the one in the pot was fairly short. That ought to let us narrow it down to Ragavade, Ito, and Ayanokouji.”

“Ragavade was incredibly dismissive of their talent when we first spoke, to the point where they seemed to react almost negatively to any praise regarding it. If even hearing about their talent is such an inconvenience, I can imagine they might be tempted by the opportunity to completely expunge everything they know just so they don't have to deal with it anymore. Furthermore, it would follow that an engineer would be able to design and construct a trap mechanism like that in a relatively short amount of time.”

“However, I cannot personally attest to how the other two feel. If anyone believes that Ayanokouji or Ito is more suspicious, I'm willing to listen. Neither of them are off the hook yet, as my observations regarding Ragavade are not definitive proof in and of themselves yet. It's still entirely possible that one of the other two is responsible for this."

Yet? Not getting into that rn because this post is already too long I'm so sorry.

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 3: I’ll Do Better

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: I think I’m just gonna stop putting swearing as a warning? Cause it’s in literally every single chapter Lmao, Arguments, a moment with PTSD and anxiety

Word Count: 8,739

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “What’s got your panties in a twist this time?” Tina teases with her signature smirk as Gavin sits down next to her at their table.

    “Fuck off, Tina.” Gavin shakes his head, knowing that his words don’t have the venom they would if he were to say them to anyone else.

    “Aw, come on! You look even more bothered than usual and you’re not gonna tell me what happened?” The woman doesn’t give enough time for him to reply before continuing again. “I have ten bucks in my pocket that says it has to do with the new trainees roaming around.”

    “That and Hank fuckin’ Anderson.” He begins around the food in his mouth, “Didn’t even know he could be awake at this hour anymore, let alone be sober enough to pull the ‘my old partner’s the current marshal’ card. I mean, he didn’t use it on me, but I heard him use it on one of the new fuckers.”

    “One of the trainees? What’d they do?”

    “For once in my life I was just mindin’ my own fuckin’ business, when two newbies come around the corner. Of course, I’m just trying to get to lunch, right? So I plan on just walking around them, but this kid fuckin’ tries to shoulder-check me! And when I didn’t budge he started acting like I started it!”

    “So you picked a proper fight?” Tina’s turned towards him now, engrossed in Gavin’s story.

    “No! Like I said, I just wanted some fuckin’ food! So I threatened the guy a bit and... gave a warning, you could say. I could immediately tell he had an ego larger than my ass, so I couldn’t just let him walk away, ya know?.”

    Another woman’s voice pipes up, “Wait, you said there were two trainees. What about the other one?” Gavin doesn’t know when she got here, but now she’s sitting across from Tina.

    “It was the same dude I saw daydreaming in the hall yesterday, and he kept trying to get the other dude to just walk away like the fuckin’ coward he is. He even got the shit beat outta him sometime after dinner yesterday. He was all bandaged up and limping a bit. Anderson rounded the corner before I could even start with him.”

    “And you said he was awake, walking around, and sober earlier? Wow.” Tina leans back in her chair. “I’m impressed. That’s the second time this month he’s been sober and calm so early in the day.”

    “You think he’s finally coming to terms with whatever happened to him?” Tina’s official partner– Angie? Allie? Amy? Who fuckin’ knows and who fuckin’ cares– asks, sounding genuinely hopeful for the washed up drunkard.

    Gavin barks out a harsh laugh, “Nah, there’s no way. His hangover probably just woke him up earlier than normal.”

    “What exactly do you have against him, Gav?” the same lady asks.

    “What do you mean ‘what do I have against him’? He’s done nothing but sit around on his ass drunk as hell for the past couple of years and no one’s done anything about it because he’s the ‘oh so great Pilot Anderson’ and his fuckin’ bff is the one in charge of this shit hole!” Gavin leans back in his chair with crossed arms, his food already scarfed down and tray empty. “If any of us acted the way he has been for even a month we’d be kicked out of here before we could even pack our stuff! Besides, isn’t he too fuckin’ old to pilot anymore anyway? Why in the hell is he even still here?”

    “He’s only barely in his forties you know,” Tina informs patiently, having heard this rant a hundred times over by now, “He started going grey in his early twenties, something about genetics. Can’t imagine the stress and grief helped at all, either.”

    “Grief. What could have possibly happened to make him ‘grieve’ for this long? Like, don’t get me wrong, I get it, but it’s been fuckin’ years of this shit. He needs to get it together, ‘cause at this point he’s just dragging us down.”

    Gavin lowers his head and averts his eyes, enviously thinking about how he wasn’t ever given the kind of treatment Anderson is given on a daily basis. His face must start looking softer because Tina looks at him with a sort of concern and confusion. He scowls at her and shakes his head with a huff in dismissal.

    All throughout training, each pilot is taught that no one can hold back any memories from their partner while in the drift. While that fact was usually used to keep trainees in line since everything they do will be seen by another person eventually, it was true. Mostly. After certain things took place long ago, Gavin accidentally stumbled upon a way to keep memories from whoever was his partner. From the complaints he’s heard in the past, it’s just as uncomfortable for them as it is for him, if not more so. So far, only Tina and her new partner have been able to put up with it more than twice..

    The whole point is, no one here truly knows his story. The people who did have either retired, or they were killed in action, or their name is Jeffery Fowler. No one knows what kind of life he had growing up, if he has siblings or not, how long he trained to be a pilot before arriving here; and nobody knows if Gavin’s “pissy, jackass attitude” is a result of something or if that’s just who he is.

    Spoiler alert: it’s just how he’s fuckin’ been his entire damn life, and he has no intentions to change any time soon. Even if Gavin wanted to, he doesn’t think he could actually change enough for it to matter, anyway. So fuck it.

    “You don’t know what happened!” Tina’s partner sounds thoroughly offended on Anderson’s behalf. She must be newer or more empathetic than he thought. “They said this started right after a particularly big battle with a kaiju, he probably lost family or something!”

    “I lost my family and my home when I was 17, and no one’s ever seen me moping around, constantly high as fuck and unable to do my job! ‘Cause heaven knows I wouldn’t get drunk of all things to forget my problems, I still have some self-respect.”

    He must have said something wrong because the looks on both women’s faces make him feel like he’s the main attraction of a pity party. He scowls again and is about to snarl out “what?” when Tina finally speaks, albeit softly, as if he, Gavin Reed, a man tougher and more stubborn than the most overcooked jerky, would break.

    “You were only 17 when..?”

    And just like that, it clicks.

    “No, you fucks!” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, “I was kicked out by my bitch-ass mother. They haven’t died or anything like that. At least, I don’t think they have…”

    Both women relax, Tina already going back to her almost finished meal as if nothing happened, knowing full well that they weren’t going to get anything else out of Gavin for the rest of the week. However, her partner seems a bit more adamant on knowing the story, if the look in her eye is anything to go by. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, Gavin abruptly stands up. It’s time to get the hell outta dodge.

    “Well, as much as I’d like to say it was a pleasure talking to you asshats, I can’t.” Tina’s smirk is enough to let Gavin know that she knows he’s just messing around now. “Don’t have a sucky ass day, I guess. Or do, I’m not your fuckin’ parent.” He promptly turns with his empty tray in hand and leaves the food court area after putting everything in their designated places.

    Whenever Gavin gets worked up, going to the gym usually helps. Growing up, the only way he learned to deal with his short temper was to let it out through physical exertion. When he was younger, that meant getting into fights and punching walls until he felt calm and safer to be around again. Now, though, it means going to the gym and showing anyone else who may be in there how it’s done. Not only does he feel better about himself– contrary to popular belief, punching the nearest person or thing had never done well for his conscience after all was said and done– he also gets some of the best scores in fighting skill from his admittedly excessive training. To be completely honest, those high scores are probably the only thing keeping him here at this point.

    Gavin takes his sweet, precious time getting to the gym. He meanders through the endless, reinforced halls until he gets to his room. They placed him right across from Tina’s room since she’s the only one who can tolerate him and is the only one Gavin doesn’t regularly want to deck in the throat. Even though she has an official partner now, that girl’s still relatively new and Tina is a better match in the drift for Gavin than anyone else is. Now that he thinks about it, he may not be able to slack off like Anderson, but he can admit that the higher-ups of this place have done a lot more to keep him here than they likely would have for anyone else. Not even he had to do “intern work” for Fowler during his first week of training, and it’s that one assbag’s second day here and he’s already managed to fuck it up.

    He changes into his work out clothes quickly and grabs the wraps for his hands. He puts them on expertly on the way, having gone through the wrapping process much more often than anyone he knows has. Gavin’s about to turn into the gym when he hears the voice of that daydreaming coward coming from around the corner.

    “Connor, would you stop your whining. Do you want what happened today in class to happen again?”

    Gavin quickly backtracks to hide behind one of the support beams on the wall. He wants to know what happened during their class, because he has a feeling it has to do with how fucked up the guy was this morning.

    “No I don’t,” the same voice replies? Is he talking to himself? Is this another case of Fight Club? “But we just got told to lie down and relax today since our hands are too bruised to hold pens. I don’t think it’s wise to go in there in case–”

    “–In case we’re found here while this injured, I know.” Well, it’s definitely not the same person, since there were clearly two voices talking over each other just then. “You’ve said that only a million times now. We’re allowed to be in here, we just won’t be using the equipment.”

    Gavin takes a chance to lean his head out and look at whoever is talking. He immediately recognises daydreamer on the left by the light grey shirt he’s wearing, which means his identical twin is wearing the black shirt. The doppelganger– apparently named Connor– looks slightly worse off than his twin.

    These pilot wannabes just got here recently, right? So they must have been paired up for the initial evaluation and roughed each other up good. Maybe the twink-looking asshole isn’t a coward at all. Maybe the dude is just confident that he could win in a fight against Gavin. Although, that doesn’t explain why he was so certain that Gavin could win against that other fucker– was it Alex?– in a brawl just earlier. Maybe it’s more of an “You can’t beat me, but you can win against him” kinda deal.

    Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum both enter the gym, still continuing on with their conversation about morals and finding loopholes within rules and orders, and Gavin takes that as his cue to follow them inside.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “I still think we shouldn’t hold back around the instructors. They’re here to evaluate us, right?” Connor asks, still very much concerned about hiding things from the people who are above them in rank.

    It’s just that, what if they get caught holding back and are punished for it? Connor doesn’t even want to think about the times that had happened while training with Amanda, let alone repeat it. He knows logically that Luther wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to his students, but the inconvenient part of Connor’s head is not letting him actually believe it. It’s better to expect the worst and get better results than assume decent results and get blindsided.

    “Yes, but if we don’t hold back, then they’ll probably make us graduate much earlier, which means less time to find new partners.” Ritch hisses at him.

    Connor just sighs, knowing he’s right but not liking to go behind instructors’ backs, even for something as important to them as this. Ritch likely knows what kind of war is going on in his head right now, which is probably why he’s being much more patient with him than usual today.

    “I know you don’t like this, but it’s necessary.”

   ��“I know. You’re right, as always.” Connor relents finally, sitting down in the far corner of the gym where it will be obvious that they’re just sitting there, watching everyone else train and work out. They need to get a feel for how much they should be holding back for now, and how fast they should progress throughout training.

    A few minutes pass of silently watching a man on a treadmill, another at a punching bag, and a woman lifting weights before Connor leans over to speak into Ritch’s ear.

    “Are we going to match their skill? Or are we going to try going weaker than them?”

    “After the show we put on earlier, I don’t think we can pull off playing as much weaker or less skilled than these people without the others becoming suspicious.” he answers immediately, eyes never leaving the tiring man on the treadmill.

    Connor nods silently, leaning back into his own space again. It isn’t long until Ritch is leaning over to whisper in his ear, this time.

    “Do you see the guy at the punching bag?”

    “Yes?” Connor confirms, watching the man go to town on the hanging bag.

    His technique is very good, and he has a lot of power behind each punch. It’s obvious that he’s tougher and stronger than he looks, not unlike Ritch and himself. Connor wonders if Ritch is going to suggest matching with him. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all, seeing as how he seems to be at almost the same level as them. Plus, judging by the scars littered around his face and arms, he has real experience in combat, which gives him a leg up on the other trainees.

    Actually… That might be Pilot–

    “That’s Gavin Reed.” Ritch unknowingly confirms his thought. “He’s trouble, so just try your best to avoid and ignore him. I’ve already run into him twice and both times he’s tried to pick a fight with me.”

    That wasn’t what Connor was expecting. He knew the rumors of Gavin Reed being testy and short-tempered, but he’s picking fights with Ritch of all people so soon after their arrival?

    “Really? It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.”

    “Yea. The first time he shoulder checked me while I was walking on the correct half of the hallway while he was going the opposite way, and the second time happened just before lunch. Apparently Alex bumped into him but he–” he nods to Gavin “–was adamant on finishing what was started. Mr. Anderson had to come and diffuse the situation.”

    Connor turns to face Ritch. “Mr. Anderson was there?”

    “Yes.”

    “Did he seem okay? He seemed to have a terrible hangover this morning at lunch, and I’m sure any yelling that was happening wasn’t helping.”

    Now Ritch turns to him. “Why do you care? He hasn’t been in a jaeger in years. Unless you became much more attached to who he once was than I thought.”

    Connor huffs out what could be considered a growl and turns back to Gavin, “Can’t a guy just care about someone else’s health?”

    “Not you.” Ritch follows Connor’s gaze, “When you care about someone’s health, it’s one of the first signs that you’re getting attached to someone, and I really don’t believe that Mr. Anderson is someone you should be getting attached to.”

    “Why do you think that?” Immediately defensive.

    “People talk, and he isn’t–.”

    “Just like how they used to talk about us?”

    “This is different than us.”

    “How so?”

    Ritch sharply turns back to his twin, irritation causing his eyebrows to set even lower and his mouth to thin. “Look, I don’t give a damn about who you imprint on or whatever anymore. I am trying to help you out here, because unlike the times people have talked about us, what people are saying about Mr. Anderson are all factual and we’ve both seen the proof. You need to lay off of him because not everyone feels the incessant need to not be alone.”

    Connor finally allows himself to snap back. “Maybe you’re wrong this time. Yes, he drinks and he’s a miserable human being who doesn’t like other people, but how do we know that just who he is? What if he’s just like how we were way back in the orphanage, where everyone treated us like glass or ruined goods all the time? What if he wants– needs someone to be fuckin’ normal around him for a change to bring him out of his pit, and no one is there?”

    “If he wanted someone, he would have found someone. He had plenty of friends before he started this!” Ritch raises his voice from a whisper, and Connor can already tell that this isn’t going to end well, especially since he isn’t willing to roll over and surrender this time.

    “We had plenty of friends too, but they just didn’t understand once they found out, huh? They ended up just making things worse until all we had was each other. And there’s the thing! We still had one other person who understood! We had each other! And we’ve never remembered whatever trauma we’ve been through! He remembers it probably like it was yesterday and he is completely alone!”

    “This isn’t a fairy tale, Connor! This is real life, and in real life you can’t just swoop in and save the depressed, rumored suicidal alcoholic through the magical power of friendship!”

    “I don’t plan on saving anyone!” Connor shouts. The entire room becomes silent all of a sudden. He takes that moment to take a breath and continue at a normal speaking volume, “This is what you and everyone else don’t understand. I don’t want to save or fix people! I just want them to realize that there’s still hope for a somewhat normal life after their entire world shifted on its axis!” Connor takes another breath, recognizing that the three people in the room are no longer hiding the fact that they’re listening to him.

    “I know I’ve said before that people can’t ‘fix’ or ‘save’ other people. They can only ever offer hope and a sense of normality among the chaos and hope that person finds enough of their own strength to fix themselves. And go ahead and make fun of me for being ‘naive’ or whatever you want. This is what I’ve always thought and this is the one thing I will not let anyone change about me. Now, I’m going to go take a nap. Enjoy your people watching.”

    With that, Connor calmly makes his way across the gym area, a contradiction to the anger showing on his face and burning in his chest. He needs to calm down, and the best way to do that is to curl up in a calm, quiet place. He nods a silent greeting to the supposed troublemaker, Gavin Reed, on his way towards the door. Mostly to spite Ritch, but also because the guy had a really good form and the strength to back it up, and that deserves some kind of acknowledgement in Connor’s opinion.

     Connor vaguely hears his name being called by Ritch as he steps out of the gym area, and normally that would be enough to make him pause, which then gives him think over the argument. Nine times out of ten, during this process of thinking things over, his brain somehow convinces himself that the entire fight was his fault and the person won’t ever forgive him. This time, though, he doesn’t pause. He doesn’t give his messed up head a chance to twist things on him. Connor knows he’s right this time, and he’s not going to allow himself to bow down to Ritch about this topic. In this case, bowing down to Ritch would be the equivalent of bowing down to Amanda, and she isn’t here to control him anymore.

    No matter how far Connor was pushed during training as punishments, he never let her think she brainwashed that part of him, and she had not gone easy on him whatsoever.

    Call him naive, childish, innocent, too optimistic, whatever. He’s heard all of that and much more and much worse from countless people. He likes to give people the benefit of the doubt, he likes giving people second and sometimes third chances (but only if they truly deserve it, and never a fourth). He likes to think that most people in the world don’t mean to do harm, and if they do they have a reason behind it. This way of thinking is the only thing that keeps him going some days, and on the days he’d temporarily forgotten how to maintain that mindset were the days that not even threats and cruel promises from Amanda could get him out of his bed. Mr. Anderson may have been able to get away with staying in bed most days, but that’s because he was once a decorated jaeger pilot. Connor is barely an official trainee, he can’t afford any more missed time.

    “Connor!”

    The familiar, gruff voice snaps him out of his thoughts. It doesn’t sound like that’s the first time he’s tried calling Connor, either.

    “I apologise Mr. Anderson,” He starts with, turning on his heel quickly to not keep the older man waiting for his full attention a moment longer, “I was a bit lost in my head there for a few moments. I won’t let it happen again.”

    Mr. Anderson makes a face that falls between scowling and confusion, “Must’ve been deeper in there than you thought ‘cause this ain’t close to any place you’d be needed.”

    Looking around, he’s right. Connor doesn’t recognise these walls at all. There are different pipes and the floors are a slightly different texture than the rougher, more worn down metal or concrete of the other places he’s seen. He’s definitely in a bunker area, though, just not anywhere he’s been before, which means he’s probably in the area meant for more experienced pilots. Their bunkers are placed closest to the jaeger loading docks for faster take off. Connor must have taken a wrong turn at some point, still not completely used to this place’s layout.

    It was probably for the best, though, since the first place Ritch would surely check for him is their room (especially since he claimed that he was going to take a nap), and he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in the gym nor a chance to apologize to his brother for the sake of ending the fight. Both options are equally possible at this moment, so plan “get back to the dorm to calm down in the quiet” changes to plan “avoid Ritch while finding a good place to calm down in”.

    “Fucks sake, Connor!” Mr. Anderson calls again, once more sounding like that wasn’t the first thing he’s said to the younger man since he had zoned out.

    Connor immediately tenses, not liking when people start raising their voices at him, and snaps out of his thoughts again. Here he is, causing problems and inconveniences for people again, just like the fuck up he’s been lately. He needs to find a calm, peaceful place to relax sooner rather than later; he can’t be in public any longer like this.

    “I’m sorry,” Connor takes a step back, then another, all while curling into himself, “I must have taken a wrong turn, I apologize for taking up your time,” He takes a few more steps back, not lifting his gaze from the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave now. Sorry again–” Connor finishes weakly and darts out of the area, giving Mr. Anderson no chance to say anything to him.

    He tries to force his head to stay in the real world so he can actually register where is and find out where he’s going, but it’s slowly getting more difficult. He speed walks through the huge jaeger storage room, easily dodging all of the busy people moving about and doing their jobs. After a particular quick change in direction to avoid the woman with her nose in her clipboard, Connor is painfully aware that his leg is still throbbing from this morning, despite the painkillers he was given.

    At the reminder of the training room, he quickly finds a safe spot to stand in then checks the time. He hadn’t realised how much time has passed since lunch, and he isn’t sure how long of the past hour and a half was spent in the gym people watching and how much of it was spent wandering around aimlessly. He supposes it doesn’t matter at the moment. What does matter is that the training room should be empty by now, since everyone should be taking the written part of the exam so they can get a break from the physical exertion.

     Connor eventually makes it to the vacant room successfully. No one else tried to stop him or talk to him. No one else seemed to take any particular note of him at all. There was no sign of Mr. Anderson, Gavin Reed, or Ritch that he’d been able to find. He should be safe here.

    The first thing he does when he enters the room is find the best spot to spend over an hour in. He decides to camp in the left corner of the room, leaning against the wall the doorway he entered from is on. A minute or so of sitting and bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers pass before Connor decides to do some stretching. Yoga has always been his guilty pleasure and one of the few things that calmed him down completely. Besides, Amanda never complained about him being more flexible during fights. She said it complimented Ritch’s more solid technique.

    Why does every little thing bounce back to her? Stop that. She’s gone now, so stop thinking about her. Stop thinking…

    He isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knows he’s been in the Child’s Pose for a fair amount of time, if the pin pricks in his calves and feet and the ache rising in his knees and lower back have anything to say about that. With a quiet grunt, he rolls onto his back and straightens out his body, trying to stretch out all of the aching joints and muscles. Connor doesn’t think it would be as bad if it was his entire body that ached, because then it would be easier to ignore it and move on.

    “Oh shit. Connor, what are you doing in here?” North asks, making Connor jump.

    Connor should have realized that he wasn’t alone in the room. With how tired he was, and still is, there’s no way he would have woken up on his own while the sun was still up.

    Connor notes the random sounds of concern and confusion and the footsteps growing closer to him. He decides to go with sarcasm and humor, rather than the blunt truth. He’s already caused enough inconveniences today, and he knows this group well enough to know that they won’t somehow be offended by it.

    “Oh, you know. Just doing yoga. I don’t recommend falling asleep in the middle of a pose though…” Connor fails to cover a groan as he sits up. His legs have gotten a bit better, but his back and ankles certainly haven’t yet. “Yea, definitely not the best position to fall asleep in.”

    Markus offers a hand to lift him up to his feet, and Connor gladly takes it. “Why are you doing yoga in here of all places? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

    “I didn’t even know you did yoga,” Josh jumps in.

    Connor elects to ignore Markus’ question for the time being, “It’s always been a guilty pleasure of mine, and once my… Once the person who was taking care of me and Ritch figured out I was doing yoga in my spare time instead of doing extra studying, she didn’t actively try to stop me.” He starts leaning and twisting his torso in different directions to try to stretch his back, grimacing at how it pulls at some of the bandages and injuries on his torso. “She actually said that my flexibility and fluidity in fights complimented Ritch’s more rigid and solid form.”

    “Jesus,” Simon breathes out, “The way you and Ritch describe– Amanda was it?” Connor nods, “Makes it seem like she wasn’t your stepmother at all.”

    One would think that Connor would learn to think before replying.

    “That’s because she really wasn’t.” He finally straightens up for good, his back better, now. “I think she only adopted us because we said we wanted to become jaeger pilots when we grew up. Well, I did, anyway.” Connor adds that last part softly, massaging his left palm with his right thumb.

    “Wait,” Josh blurts, “You said her name was Amanda?”

    “Yes?” Why does Josh look like he’s found the missing last piece to a 500 part jigsaw puzzle?

    “Amanda, as in, Amanda Stern? Do you share her last name?”

    Seeing how everyone’s eyes light up confuses Connor even more. He’s definitely missing something here.

    “Yes? Have you met her before or know somebody else who has?”

    “Have we met her!?” North suddenly exclaims, “Are you kidding me!? Only a small group of people have met her, everyone else just knows of her and her work! She’s a fucking legend among the jaeger pilot and special forces trainers! She always trains the best fighters! No wonder you two are so far out of our league! Especially if you’ve been in her care for so long!”

    “I didn’t realise she was popular.”

    “She’s more than just popular. She’s downright famous within the jaeger and military community.” Simon corrects.

    “I’m actually shocked you didn’t know. Did you never question what those gatherings were, as you and Ritch call them?” Josh asks.

    “Uh, no? Asking particularly dumb questions usually meant more work the next day for us, so neither of us wanted to ask. We just knew that wealthy people came over for conversation and drinks and we had to stay out of the way unless sought out and spoken to.”

    Markus seems to snap out of his silent contemplation then. “More work for asking dumb questions. A life wearing nothing but uniforms and sleepwear, little to no toys and electronics growing up despite her having the funds for more than enough. That mixed with how you guys are pretty much soldiers already and claim to have learned most of it on your own… She does not sound like someone who deserves the high praise she gets. It all sounds questionable at best.”

    “I mean… I guess? But she was only trying to get us used to following orders and stuff so we wouldn’t get in trouble here.” Right? “I don’t think she wasn’t a bad person? She just liked having things a certain way and was very determined to get it that way. We just weren’t good enough pilots for her in the beginning, is all. She was very nice and pleasant to us when we did something right, and always was to other people, too.”

    Whatever Markus is thinking, Simon catches on too. Maybe they have the telepathy thing that Connor and Ritch have, too. “Were you and Ritch holding back this morning?”

    Connor doesn’t know where this is going, but he doesn’t like it.

    “What do you mean? We were told to go all out so we could be evaluated properly.”

    “That’s what you were told to do,” Markus puts a kind hand on his shoulder. It’s oddly and undeniably comforting. “But did you actually?”

    “No. We held back.” Ritch’s voice says from the doorway, having just popped in, “We had to be at least a little more gentle than usual because we were on those thin mats, and not mud or thicker foam like we’re used to. But after seeing everyone else’s skill levels this morning, we decided it would be best to blend in and hold back more.”

    “What happened to keeping that hidden? What if Luther and Chloe find out?” Connor steps towards his brother, causing Markus’ hand to fall from his shoulder.

    “I see no reason to hide that from this group in particular.” Ritch remains as stoic and unbothered as always. “They’ve proven themselves to be trustworthy, and at least two of them had already figured it out. It’d be more effort to try to continue hiding it from them.” Connor goes to retort, but Ritch continues, “Why are you getting upset? I thought you wanted to come clean?”

    Connor has to curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw to keep the angered words and growls from leaving his mouth. It doesn’t help in the slightest that he never got to properly calm down from the fight earlier. He just fell asleep on the floor.

    “What brings you here, Ritch?” he asks calmly, instead.

    He rolls his eyes– a thing he would have gotten smacked for if they were still under Amanda’s roof, Connor’s brain supplies. “Well, you kind of stormed out earlier.”

    “That generally means that person doesn’t want to be in the other’s presence anymore.”

    “Oh would you stop being a child for two seconds and come with me to eat dinner. You need to eat and we can finish talking then.”

    Connor sharply looks to the side. “I’ll be there in a few. Go ahead without me.” He continues as Ritch opens his mouth to say something, “And if you just stay here and wait for me I will purposely skip dinner and breakfast tomorrow. And you know I’ve lasted longer without food before and it won’t faze me.”

    “And you know it won’t faze me either.”

    “Won’t it?” Connor usually lasted just over three days without food before giving in during Amanda’s “survival evaluations”. Ritch only lasted one and a half on average.

    There’s a heavy, tense silence where Connor is painfully aware of the other four’s presence, and that they have no clue what to make of this or how to handle it. Thankfully, Ritch caves first with a sigh.

    “Fine then, but I don’t want you near Mr. Anderson.”

    Connor clenches his fists and law. “Good thing you’re not my guardian or superior then.”

    “He is, though. Your superior.”

    “And he hasn’t kicked me off of his table yet. And don’t even claim that he could be letting me stay just to be polite or whatever. We both know he isn’t like that.”

    Another silence, less tense and much shorter this time, though. Yet it’s broken by Ritch’s sigh once more.

    “Fine.” He snaps, shaking his head, “It’s your life, your downfall, your embarrassment, and your panic attack when he comes to dislike you.” He turns around and starts walking out of the room. He doesn’t pause as he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t come crying to me this time. This will be all your doing, and I am not your guardian.”

    “Wasn’t going to.” the other half calls back.

    Well that was a disaster. Well, not so much of a disaster as a wreckage of notable size. Here Connor was, thinking that it would be himself that would ruin his relationship with Markus, North, Josh, and Simon, but oh no. No, it was going to be Ritch that destroyed it in the end. That robotic asshat.

    Well, time to do some damage control.

    “I am so sorry you guys had to see that–”

    “Are you two like this all the time?” Josh interrupts.

    His question makes him freeze and stumble over his previous thought. Why would he care how he and Ritch act around one another?

    “Yes and no? I mean, when we’re not talking business, we’re either doing our own thing and leaving each other alone or training together, but our arguments don’t usually last this long. It’s usually solved one way or another by now.” Connor takes a deep breath, and finally relaxes his fists and stature, not realizing he was tense for a fight. He turns to the group that is now cautious, not unlike treading on eggshells, but not treating him as if he were delicate or unpredictable. More like unsteady, if he was forced to choose a word. “You guys know how siblings are, after all. This will pass.”

    No one says or indicates anything. Are siblings not usually like this?

    Markus takes a step forward. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but were you and Ritch pitted against each other often?”

    Connor almost considers leaving the room right then, making use of the out he was given. He’s been talking way too much today, anyway; he feels the way his throat is getting hoarse with how much he’s been using his voice. On top of that, he just doesn’t want to go into detail about their training. He doesn’t want their opinions of him or Ritch to change because of what they’ve done in the past. Although, if his twin didn’t feel like waiting until they were alone to continue their dispute, then why should Connor spare him of this?

    “I was under the impression that everyone fought against their partner in order to train. It helps both trainees’ styles to be either complementary to one another or near identical, and it helps them think in similar or complementary ways during battles, too. Did you guys not spar against each other regularly?”

    “There’s a difference between sparring against your partner and being pitted against them, Connor.” North responds this time, uncharacteristically subdued.

    “Well, yes, I suppose so…” There are so many regrets right now. After this, he’s just not going to talk anymore. It’s not worth it.

    Simon takes a slow step forward, watching his reaction, “Stop me if I’m going too far, but were you guys ever told to fight with the intentions to harm or subdue each other, rather than just to train? ‘Cause that is usually considered illeg–”

    –hand in his hair, boot digging into his back. He can’t breathe, he may as well be drowning on the mud he’s being pushed into–

    “No.” he says with a sharp shake of his head. Whether it’s an answer to Simon’s question or a reaction to his thoughts, not even Connor himself knows.

    –he takes the knife from his leg, wincing and hissing as it tears through–

    No.

    –loses his grip, causing him to be pinned again. He can’t move his arm. Why can’t he move his arm?–

    No, no no no no no–

    –it’s cold in summer..? Why is my vision so blurry? Wait, why am I alone now? No, wait! Don’t leave me! Please! I’ll do better! I promise I’ll do bet–

    “Connor?!”

    Connor finally snaps out of it with a small gasp, realizing that his vision really is getting blurry, but for a different reason. Crying is extremely disgraceful and impolite, especially in front of others. You have to be on your best behavior in front of people, and crying and curling up on the ground is not good behavior. He straightens up and forcibly relaxes his posture, using a single knuckle to wipe the threatening tears in the corners of his eyes. It’s now that he realizes he was beginning to hyperventilate. He needs a minute to be alone and calm himself, but he doesn’t want to be left alone. He really doesn’t want to be left alone–

    Ah, but he isn’t alone right now and they won’t be leaving him, he can distantly hear them telling him that right now. Maybe there’s a chance they won’t completely avoid him in the near future. Although, for now, he needs to be fine, and his small group of allies certainly don’t see him as fine right now. He needs to calm down. He’s making a fool of himself in front of them. He needs to reassure them that he’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll definitely be fine–

    “Connor, I’m so sorry.”

    “No, it wasn’t your fault. I apologize for the way I reacted just then.” Manners are key, especially when forced to cut a conversation short. He bows his head with practiced grace, “And to answer your question, no, we weren’t ever told to fight each other with such an intent. Honestly. It– ah– we weren’t technically against each other…” He looks up at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly dinner time. “Ah, you guys came in here earlier for a reason and I just keep getting in the way. My apologies.” Markus opens his mouth to speak, but Connor doesn’t give him time. “Thank you for keeping me company, though.”

    “Connor, I’m sorry for asking–”

    No no no. Can’t think of that. Don’t think. It never happened. It was just a bad dream. Just think of it as a bad dream. Ritch said it would help. Amanda may lie, but Ritch doesn’t. Does he?

    “No no, you’re quite alright. You didn’t know, it wasn’t your fault. It’s natural for people to be curious, and it really wasn’t that bad. I simply have a habit of over reacting to things.” Connor tries to make his following laugh sound genuine, but falls short. “Well, I should go now. Dinner will be starting soon and you still have business to attend to. I’ll see you guys later if you’re interested.”

    Connor finally manages to shuffle out of the room, but he never makes it to dinner that night, even if he told Ritch he would. Despite what he just claimed, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk to them again. People hate when others are large burdens, and that’s exactly what he’s becoming for them. He thought he could be better with fresh, new faces, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. It’s not how it works. It won’t ever be how it works, so it’s better to just leave them alone and let them have peace.

    Ritch was right. He probably needs to start leaving Mr. Anderson alone. He understands now. Maybe he can still sit there to be alone? But why would he stay here at the base just to be alone? If he can’t even handle getting casual friends, how will he ever find a partner? And Connor’s replaceable in a way the ex-pilot is not, so they would not be nearly as patient with him.

    Does that mean he needs to quit after all? What could he even do if not this? What would Ritch do? Connor’s the reason he’s even here in the first place. He’s the reason Ritch will be stuck in a life style he never particularly wanted growing up. Why can’t Connor ever do anything right? Everyone is right, he’s too naive, too childish, too quick to get too deep into things. It needs to stop. He’ll pack his things tomorrow and tell the instructors about all of this and he’ll be gone by tomorrow evening or the next morning, whenever Ritch isn’t around. If Ritch finds out he’ll definitely blame Connor and make him stay with him as payback or something. Connor can’t stay, though. He’s useless.

    His room’s door opens with a creek, causing Connor to instinctively curl into himself, but he forces himself to relax and slow his breathing. If Ritch thinks he’s asleep when he gets back, he’ll leave him alone. With every footstep, adrenaline rushes through Connor. He’s distantly aware that he’s being like this because he’s afraid Ritch is going to pop out of nowhere and confront him, knowing he won’t have the energy to fight back now. They’ve been arguing all day and a good chunk of yesterday too, it’d only make sense for Ritch to try something like that.

    Instead of doing so, though, Connor simply changes into sleeping clothes and climbs into bed. The main light was never turned on, so the room has been coated in darkness from the start. After some time of resting, though, there’s the creak of the door, then a click accompanied by a soft, yellow light flooding the room. It stays on for a long while before Connor hears Ritch shifting around again. This time, the other twin climbs out of the lower bunk and sounds like he’s about to put on his real clothes again, but pauses in the process.

    “Connor.” The man in question can hear the stern frown in Ritch’s voice. He uses all of his self control to not stiffen because of it, but it apparently wasn’t good enough. “Connor, I know you’re up. Why didn’t you eat?” that same stern frown is likely still on his face.

    Connor doesn’t move, hoping that if he keeps up the act and ignores his racing heart, Ritch will convince himself that he was just seeing things. He knows it’s not a realistic thing to hope for, but still.

    “Connor, even if you weren’t up before, I know you would be by now. Why weren’t you in the food court? The others were.”

    No response. He remembers what he said before in the training room, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. It just makes things worse. Besides, his throat is still a bit scratchy.

    “Fine. Be a child. I don’t care. I’m not putting up with this shit anymore.”

    No, wait, please don’t leave. I take it back, I’ll get better at talking so I can do it without messing up, like you can. I’ll teach myself how to respond better so I don’t have to worry about making things worse anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want anyone to hate me. I don’t want to be alone again. Please–

    “Connor?” Soft footsteps creep closer. “Are you crying?” If Connor didn’t know better, he’d almost say that Ritch sounded concerned.

    Before responding, he takes a shaky breath so he can speak without too many tremors in his voice. “I’m not crying.” Another, shorter breath. “It’s impolite and childish, especially in front of people.” The next breath is shakier, and definitely a give away that he’s slowly failing his attempt at not crying. “I’m fine. You need rest.”

    “Connor–”

    “You’re not my guardian. You don’t need to babysit me. Just let me self destruct like you said you would. It’s not even anything serious. Goodnight.” Just because his sleep schedule is going to be completely ruined, doesn’t mean Ritch’s has to be as well.

    “Connor…”

    He doesn’t respond.

    There’s a shuffle of Ritch sitting down on the bed as he asks, “Did they ask more questions?”

    “Yes, but you were there for them.” Maybe he’ll let him go to sleep if he plays along.

    “Was that the only thing they asked?”

    Connor sighs, annoyed. “Yes.”

    “What did they ask?”

    Connor finally makes himself sit up. “Ritch, I just said–”

    “Connor.” If a tone of voice could paralyze, Connor wouldn’t even be able to blink.

    He sighs again, this time in defeat. “If I tell you, would you let me sleep?”

    “Depends on if what I’m told and if it’s a lie or not.”

    Connor hesitates.

    “...if I promise to tell the truth, will you leave me alone?”

    “Depends on what the truth is.”

    “Then no.”

    Ritch jumps up from where he sat on his lower bunk. “Connor! I swear to god–”

    “They brought it up, okay? God, are you happy now?”

    “Brought what up, Connor? Use your words–”

    “It.” he snarls, “They asked a question that made me think of when it happened. And I know you aren’t as affected by it as I am, but I can’t handle anything like you can. I just can’t...” Connor finally lets himself fall back down on his bed in a desperate attempt to hide the silent tears that are finally falling.

    This time, Ritch is the one that doesn’t have a response. Good. Let him think about when it happened. Let him suffer just like Connor was trying to avoid because he’s a nosy prick.

    Ritch heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I can talk to them about it tomorrow, try to calm them down. They’re probably very worried about you or both of us now.”

   Connor grunts. They probably should be worried, but he knows that leaving things as they are now would only make things worse for himself in the long run.

   “Connor.” Another grunt. “Please try to eat something tomorrow. I’ll talk to Luther to see if you can take tomorrow off. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

    “I’m not a child anymore.” he grumbles.

    “No, you’re not.” he agrees softly.

    Another grunt, this time followed by a heavy sigh. He won’t be getting that break. Even if he did get it, the chances of him being put in the danger zone of being sent home are more likely than most of the other trainees. If he can’t even handle being here for two days without becoming so completely and utterly useless, then what business does he have trying to be a fully-fledged pilot? None, that’s the answer.

    He is distantly aware that Ritch has started trying to talk to him again, but Connor really just wants to go to sleep and forget about today, and so he does. He assumes his twin goes to bed soon after he did, though, because when he tries to wake Connor up for breakfast the next morning, he appears to be well rested. No obvious dark circles or bags under his eyes, no sluggish movements, his eyes clear. That’s good. Ritch will do just fine here. He knows how to talk like a normal human being and responds to others well. He’ll definitely find a new partner in no time.

    Ritch walks out the door. Connor almost tries to get up to get ready for class, then figures that if he’s actually going to quit soon, then he may as well just stay put. Therefore, he’s still in bed by the time breakfast ends and the first class begins. No one tries to come get him. He’s not surprised, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting. He tries to convince himself that it’s just because Ritch told everyone that he needs a day off, but, if anything, that makes the sting in his chest worse for some reason.

    He’ll try going in after lunch, after he’s had some time to settle down a bit.

    After deciding on that, he goes to his dresser drawer and pulls out the small bottle of strong sleeping essential oil that Ritch and Amanda have no clue he has, let alone needs often enough for it to maybe be unhealthy. Here, he has it stuffed in the back of his dresser-locker under some clothes. He rubs a bit of it onto his foot then pulls a sock on because he doesn’t want that horrendous smell getting all over his sheets. His head doesn’t even quite make it onto the pillow properly before he’s out like a light.

    Sleeping means no thinking, and no thinking means no stressing, after all, and that oil does a damn good job at knocking people out.

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A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait! I promise future updates won’t take this long! I’m just in the middle of a move and  life kinda bitch slapped me outta no where there for a hot minute, but I think things are going better now. The next update probably won’t be as soon as I want it to be, but y’all won’t have to wait four months again Lol. Thank you to anyone who stuck around this long, despite me being new Heheh 😄 Thank you for reading and I hoped y’all didn’t hate it!! I absolutely promise that next chapter will be filled with lots of comfort and fluff!! 😄💖💕

[spnbaby-67]

My Life Is Over, or Is It?

In light of the announcement on Friday, my heart died along with a lot of others who are so into this show and can’t live without out it. I tried so hard to be positive, but I can’t. especially knowing they knew at Nashcon, I love this show and those boys and I understand I really really do, but I would love to know what made that ultimate decision. Anyways, please do not post on any other sites without my say so, this was edited by my new spn sister Jamie, she’s amazing. she’s not on tubmlr so i can’t link her. but i can credit her. She’s amazing and I love ya girl. 

Warnings: none really other that self doubt and very sad need Kleenex. Supernatural ending, life ending. be warned. 

No pairing. My feelings are my own way when i heard the news. 

I was sitting at work, just a normal day at the desk I call home, when my Instagram notification dinged. The slight dinging alerted me that something new was happening in my social life. Sure, my social life isn’t really all that social. In fact, if not for the internet it would probably be non-existent. But, it’s a social life nonetheless, and something new was about to make itself known. With anticipation I opened the window to my life, eager to see what it held. I was pretty sure I knew what it held. There’s one thing that keeps me going in my life. One constant I can always rely on.

I’m not sure when things took a change. Others call it an obsession. I call it life. It all started with a show, a dad on a hunting trip, sons desperate to find him. And, in total shock, complete disbelief, it’s all coming to an end, crashing down around the life I’ve built. The hunting will soon be over. The family separated yet built upon a new foundation. Sure, the Winchesters found their dad, then lost him in a new way. But through their adventures they have taught me how to live through my own adventurous life.

I don’t let just anyone interrupt my day. I keep my notifications set to certain people. Only a select few have the ability to enter something new into my life and cause me to always drop what I am doing to listen, to respect. However, today March 22, 2019, I wished I didn’t. This is a day I will remember forever. The day my greatest fear would slap me in the face. A day that would signal the fear of my entire family leaving on a hunting trip. The fear that they wouldn’t return and I would have no one to turn to. No one to help me search for the survivors.

My heart has literally stopped, I’m sure of it. I’m sure my entire world has just stopped. There, in front of me, in my hands, I am holding my entire world. To some it may seem crazy. ‘It’s only a show.’ ‘They’re only fictional characters.’ ‘They don’t care about you the way you care about them.’ Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. Right now. At this moment. As I hold Jensen, Jared and Misha in my hands, none of that matters. I hear the words. I hear them say Supernatural will end after the 15th season. I see the tears they hold back. The cracking of their voices ring deep in my ears.

My breath caught in my throat causing me to choke. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I blurted out loud, in shock, and everyone took notice.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks. She’s the girl who normally sits beside me at my makeshift home called work.

I swallowed hard. Swallowed again. Again. My voice locked in my throat. The lump forming bigger and bigger. Unable to respond until the lump was pushed away, my voice stuttering back into existence. “Su-Supernatural is ending n-next y-year.” Tears fell from my eyes uncontrollably, like someone had left the water faucet on.

“Hey!” She placed her arm around my shoulders and cradled me. How could she have possibly known how desperately I needed to be comforted? “It’s going to be ok. I know it’s your whole life that you feel is ending, but it’s not. Besides, they will still be around.”

I smiled at her the best I could. Did she truly understand how I felt? Could she possibly understand what it feels like to be told your world is crumbling around you? I shook the thoughts from my head. It’s just another day, right? Another day that I have to push through. Another day that life kicked me down. A mother day I have to finish before I can allow myself to crumble with the words. I quickly agreed to agree, didn’t matter if I was agreeing to the truth or not. It only mattered that I agreed to not shatter at work.

I tried my best to finish work for the day, not like I really had a choice. I was stuck, forced to endure the cracking of my soul alone while surrounded by so many.The only light in this darkness was the looming fact I only had an hour left of acting. An hour to pretend everything was okay. An hour to pretend I was okay. An hour to pretend the bombshell wasn’t just dropped. An hour before I could return to the solitude of my bed. An hour before I could darken the world out. An hour before I could shatter into pieces beside my heart.

The all too familiar darkness took over. The darkness I had fought so hard to overcome. The darkness that had been hidden by the light. The darkness I didn’t see creeping in. It was back and had taken control. With silent tears, I allowed the darkness to join the drops that formed on my pillow and lull me to sleep. Not that it really mattered, I couldn’t function anyways. An all too familiar feeling had crushed my heart, taken over my soul. I secretly prayed to whatever god may still be out there, I prayed for morning to never come. I prayed for the darkness to swallow me whole. I prayed for the pain, the heartache to end. I prayed for a final ending. I prayed for my season 15 to come, to take me down the road so far, tail lights exiting the scene forever.

My family doesn’t understand, they never have. I’m not even sure why I expect them to.  I can’t even explain why this show was so important to me. I can’t comprehend with a clear head how I’ve made the decision to allow such simplicity to control my thoughts. I can’t describe the reasons I join them at conventions or spend hard earned money on merchandise. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I’ve created memories. Memories that will stay with me forever. Memories that could never be replaced. Memories that I only have the chance to gain because I made the decision to allow something so simple, yet so complex, change my life forever. I allowed it to do more than change me, I allowed it to save me.

I sit and think about that. It seems like the only thing I can do anymore. Sit. Sit and think. Think of how much my life is going to change. Think about how much my life has changed. A wise man once said “Family don’t end with blood.” I never understood those words. Not really. I never understood how anyone who wasn’t blood could ever be family. I never understood how much I would want that to be true. I never understood how much I would long for the truth in those simple words. I never understood, not until someone who would never share my blood spoke those words, and meant it.

They meant it! He meant it. She meant it. My family meant it. Not my blood relatives. They would never understand. They would never understand how a friend could become family. They could never understand how a stranger could touch my life in ways they never could. They could never understand how the ones on the other side of the screen I held so tightly just hours before could be more than strangers. More than friends. How they could be family. MY FAMILY.

A smile creeps on my face. It’s not bright enough to light the darkness that surrounds me. It’s not large enough to reach my eyes. But it’s a smile and it’s a start. I sit and think about how lucky I am. How much I am loved. I feel grateful for the family I’ve created. The family I’ve found. The family I’ve helped form. I feel a twinge of love as I remember that I’ve had the chance to meet my family. I’ve had the chance to hold them, embrace them in my arms, and thank them for all they’ve done.

I’ve been given the opportunity to tell my story. I’ve been given the satisfaction of being heard. I’ve been given shoulders to cry on and opened ears to listen. I’ve been given hearts that understand, not just with the words they say, but instead they understand with the hearts they carry safely inside their chests. I’ve held strong for others, and in turn I’ve had others hold strong for me. I’ve been given the ultimate gift of knowledge. Knowledge of what true love, true happiness, true family is.

It’s a gift not to be taken lightly. A gift that some never receive. The smile deepened, spreading to the depths of my chest. With this family I must go on. I must keep fighting to hold onto what has been given. I fight, not alone, but with my family. Together, we strive to push through. We strive to continue our lives even as an important piece of it comes to an end. We fight together to remember the lessons we have been taught. We fight to hold onto the love and caring hearts we have found through our heros. We fight to remember that some angels walk among us, wearing a blue tie and trench coat. We fight to remember to always give back to the community. We fight to remember to always care for others. We fight to remember that everyone has a story and we don’t always know it. We fight to remember we are not alone. We fight to remember to always keep fighting.

As I sit here in the lighted darkness,I remember the words I was told. I remember life isn’t over. I remember.

“You are beautiful, you are strong, and you are powerful in ways that you may not understand now, but eventually you will. Stay strong sweetheart, we’ll always be there for you.”  

Those are the words that mean the most. Those are the words that were put into my life when needed the most. Those are the words that could only be spoken by Jensen and Jared. I’m not sure why, I wish I was able to explain it to even myself, but I can’t. And I realize as I sit here. that’s okay. The reasoning isn’t what matters. What matters is that when no one else could reach me, when no other words would matter, they were there to reach in and pull me from my own self destruction.

Those are the memories I hold onto when I’m feeling low. Those are the words that pull me from the all consuming darkness. I only wish those words could pull me through right now. I wish they could wipe away the tears. Wipe away the pain. I wonder how I  can even begin to be strong or live through knowing they are hurting just as much or worse than we are. I wonder how a family can contain such devastation. I wonder how to hold on. But I made a promise to them, and I will do my best to hang in there. Until I see you again Jensen and Jared, you will both be in my heart forever. We will all forever be family. I love you both so much. Love me.

@mirandaaustin93 @impalaimagining, @percussiongirl2017 @secretlyfurrydragon, @grnsorrow, @waywardnerd67, @racheladams77

[bulletproofteacup]

Star-Crossed // Part Two

[summary]: For decades, the Fire Nation has been inching closer and closer to total victory. But the rebellion, spear-headed by the White Lotus has a secret weapon: the Oracle in the North. Prince Zuko, having failed to find the Avatar, is given a final chance to regain his honor: capture the Oracle and bring her to the Fire Nation. Zutara. M.

[Part one]: First Kiss – Realizations – Superstition // ao3

[Part Two]: Letters – Beauty –Tea Leaves // ao3

Acrid smoke, dark and black—she gags and coughs. Waving a hand, Katara emerges from the smoke onto what must be a battlefield. Death and destruction stretch as far as the eye can see. She has lived in the relative safety of the North for as long as she can remember; the destruction of the Southern Water Tribe is only a vague memory now. But this battle is not the first she has visited in a vision, it is not the first to be burned into her memory. 

At any rate, there is a point to this vision. She begins to walk. 

There is, for the most part, little activity. The dead are dead and the dying, well, they’re quiet about dying at least. 

The battle must be over. 

She focuses on the uniforms. Fire Nation, of course, and Earth Kingdom. They’re not current uniforms, for sure. Or future uniforms. She examines a dead man—he’s been evenly decapitated, but his armor is intact. Over time, she’s studied the historical evolution of uniforms; it sometimes helps her place the approximate timeline of her visions. This particular uniform is unfamiliar, but the armor carries a distinct sunrise emblem on one shoulder. Azulon’s crest, to represent the stretching empire he protected and maintained after Sozin. She checks the man’s opposite shoulder—a rampant dragon. 

This is how she knows that this is a vision of the past—of a battle that occurred sometime during Fire Lord Azulon’s reign, when his eldest son, the Dragon of the West, was his supreme general overseeing the war in the Earth Kingdom. Judging from the opposing forces, she’s seeing the battle for Ba Sing Se. It happened long after her family had made it to the North, when she was about nine or ten. So nearly a decade past, then.

Katara is surprised to see the general himself. He is younger than the scrolls that Sokka has shown her, but of course, she knows what’s about to happen.

From behind, she watches as General Iroh discovers his son’s body.

The man cries out — Katara opens her eyes.

Instead of the General, she wakes to the face of her kidnapper. The man in red -- the Prince, she remembers. He’s holding her in his arms and they’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean and she is suddenly confused and afraid and— “Calm down,” Zuko says, “You were dreaming.”

Then she remembers who and where she is. The sky is still dark, but dawn is close. The air is crisp and cold, but she is deep in Zuko’s jacket—it feels like she’s sitting next to a warm fire. This is the beginning of the prophecy, she realizes again, when the Oracle is taken by the Banished Prince and the Boy in Iceberg finally appears. For a second, she can’t seem to draw in a breath—but then Zuko takes her hand. “You’re safe,” he says with quiet certainty, “No one will hurt you.”

His voice eases something in her chest. Katara pulls in a deep, shuddering breath. She spends a long time focusing on breathing, fighting the lingering panic and chest pain.  

“I had a vision dream,” she explains, finally, “Sometimes, it takes me a while to…wake up.”

“I see.” Zuko says.

They lapse into uncomfortable silence—mostly because he’s holding her like a lover, staring down at her as if he’s going to kiss her and she suddenly remembers a dozen dreams in which he was doing—they were doing—far less innocent things. But she can’t make herself move away and he’s certainly not offering to put her on the bench beside him.

“Will you tell me what happened in your vision?” he asks. 

She ponders this for a moment. Some of her visions are meant to be shared--some are meant for her alone. When nothing happens, when no certain feeling comes to her, she shrugs. 

“I saw a battle that occurred many years ago.” Katara says eventually. 

The prince doesn’t respond, because one of his men leans over. 

“Sir,” he says, very quietly, “We’re not going to make it before the sun breaks the horizon. We’re still too close to the sentry towers to start the engines.”

In the distance, a small boat has appeared. Katara cranes her neck and behind them, the North Pole has shrunk to the size of a thumbnail. They must have dropped their anchor very far away in order to avoid detection. 

Zuko’s lips flatten. “If we’re spotted, we’re as good as dead. They’ll be upon us before we reach the ship.”

Then he sets her aside. For a moment, the warmth is gone and she is wearing little more than her nightgown in the middle of an arctic ocean. Then the prince wraps his coat around her.

“Give me an oar,” he tells his man, “Everyone must row if we’re to survive until dawn.”

“I’m a waterbender,” she says, “I can get us there.”

Every soldier on the little boat turns to stare at her. Even Zuko seems taken aback.

“We’re kidnapping you,” He says, carefully expressionless, “Why would you help us succeed?”

She sighs, then pulls his coat off. She sets it on the bench beside her. “This is meant to happen,” she explains, “The spirits show me visions because events are meant to progress this way. For whatever reason, it is imperative that I leave the Northern Water Tribe tonight. The reason will become clear eventually, but for now, I will fulfill my part.”

Before anyone has a chance to react, she lifts her arms and sends the boat racing forward.

Iroh knew what to expect, but somehow, he’s still surprised when his nephew returns just before dawn, a Water Tribe girl in tow. “Are you sure she is the Oracle?” he asks.

“Yes,” Zuko nods stiffly, “Tell the captain to sail for the Fire Nation immediately.”

Iroh relays his orders and follows them into the bowels of the ship. That she came of her own free is no surprise—the spirits have always had a strange sense of humor. That Zuko succeeded, against all odds—is, well, not surprising either. His nephew is strong-willed young man, with the determination and ability to see his actions through. But it means that the spirits intended this mission to succeed, which is both a relief and fresh nightmare.

Iroh has known for some time that his nephew would play an important role in ending the war, but some small part of him hoped that perhaps he had been wrong. Even now, he wanted to bundle up his second son and spirit him away from this never-ending conflict.

Impossible now, of course. Zuko is far too tall.

“Uncle,” Zuko orders, “Take the girl to her chambers. I’ll see to it that food is sent—make sure she eats.”

Then he strides away, confident and tall and completely self-assured. Sometimes, Iroh almost envies the young. Then he turns to the girl, who is watching Zuko leave with luminous blue eyes. 

“Your highness?” he says.

She turns. “I am no Princess, General Iroh.” she says, despite the fact that they’ve never met, “Master Katara will do.”

“My apologies,” he says, “We’ve never had the pleasure of meeting, Master Katara.”

He bows deeply and she blushes. She bows in return. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, General Iroh. Your nephew was very courteous to me.”

“Thank you,” he says, wryly, “He can be a very headstrong young man.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “But he saw to it that we arrived safely. You both have my thanks.”

He nods, “Please allow me to see you to your room, Master Katara.”

With the formalities seen to, he turns and leads her down the walkway. She follows quietly. The Oracle looks like a girl, but she walks like a warrior. She is all at once, many contradictions. And, he realizes, dressed in little more than a nightgown and flimsy robe. At least his nephew had seen fit to give her his heavy coat. They were prepared with clothes, of course, but she needed to be given a good pair of boots before her toes froze off. 

Iroh sighs. 

Only the young forget such essential things, like boots and rational thought.

He ushers her into the little bedroom that is to be the Oracle’s prison. “You will stay here, Master Katara. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She says and steps inside.

“Would you be interested a game of Pai Sho?” he asks, “I have recently acquired the perfect lotus tile.”

She pauses, then turns slowly. “I’ve never played before,” she replies, “But perhaps it is time to learn. My grandfather, Master Pakku, favors the lotus.”

They step inside the windowless room and Iroh closes the door behind him. “This room is safe,” he says, “I am the Grandmaster. How can the White Lotus help you, Master Katara?”

He motions for her to sit before a low table in the middle of the room. She arranges her gown primly, like a queen dressed in rags.  “Word must be sent to my grandfather,” she says, “I am not to be pursued by my brother or anyone else. Our paths must diverge.”

Iroh busies himself with preparing tea. Chamomile, he decides, to aid digestion and promote sleep. “I will send the appropriate letters, of course,” he replies, “Are you sure this course is wise, Master Katara? My nephew is a good man, but his father is not. He will not be kind to you.”

For a moment, her serene, impenetrable strength flags and she appears exactly as is she—a girl plagued by visions and frightened by the future before her. Then she straightens. “Yes,” she replies firmly, “This is where I’m meant to be. I must see this through.”

“Of course,” He says, acceptance bitter on his tongue, “I will help you however I can.”

She inclines her head. “Thank you, General Iroh.”

He set a cup of tea before her. “A meal will arrive soon,” he tells her, “But anytime is an appropriate time for tea.”

The girl smiles wryly and agrees.

~

It is not that the contents of the letter are difficult. Father, it reads, I have captured the Oracle. She is beautiful— he crosses the last part out. It’s that there are too many thoughts and emotions fighting for his attention—he can’t concentrate. He fights frustration and drops his quill—ink splatters over the parchment. 

Zuko curses, but steps away from the desk. He can’t afford to break another writing implement—Uncle Iroh complains every time need to be restocked and frankly, he can’t handle going through another kind lecture about controlling the black cloud that is his temper. But then he is frozen by the realization that they will never need to restock quills again—he is returning home. 

Home.

It’s all most too much to comprehend.

He hasn’t been home in eight years—in the time he’s been gone, his sister has become a woman and he’s…not the boy he once was. Everything will be different. Without really meaning to, his thoughts return back to the Oracle.

When he touched her…it was almost as if he’d known her all his life. There was a connection. A familiarity. It unsettled him deeply. It’s been three days since they’ve captured her, three days since they escaped from the North without pursuit—three days and he still can’t forget the way her hand fit in his, the way her lips parted beneath his. He’s avoided her—easy enough with his Uncle seeing to her needs—but he can feel her presence on his ship.

He picks the quill up and tries again.

Father,

I have captured the Oracle and at present, sail for the homeland.

Your faithful son,

Zuko.

It is pitifully short. He sighs but rolls the letter up and turns to the hawk waiting patiently in the cage beside his writing desk. “Koei,” he says, “Are you ready to fly back home?”

The bird chirps and Zuko smiles. He’d raised the messenger hawk as a boy and when he’d been banished, it had come with him. Koei was getting on in her years, but she was more than able to make the journey back home. He can’t wait to meet her there.  

Zuko moves to the window and opens it. His room is in the command tower—narrow, but the windows up here are wider and actually open—unlike the portholes below deck. He sends Koei off and just as he closes the window, there are urgent footsteps in the hall.

He hears the screaming and opens the door before the soldier has a chance to knock. “The Oracle--” the man gasps, breathlessly, “She’s--

Zuko races into the hallway.

Katara wakes with wet cheeks and puffy eyes and not for the first time, with a throat that aches from screaming.

She curses hoarsely and climbs—falls, really—out of her bed. The second her feet touch the cold iron floor, she remembers that she isn’t home. Sokka isn’t a few doors down, forever ready with parchment and ink to record the vision.

But the spirits don’t care—urgency burns in her limps, panic constricts her chest—she sucks in desperate breaths and tries to focus beyond the overwhelming need to crawl into Sokka’s arms and scream. Instinctively, she knows that this is part of her “gift,” the urge to—the need—to share the vision. Some visions—the big ones—must be spoken. This is one of them.

But she can’t share it. Katara knows that any word she breathes will make it into the hands of the Fire Lord and just because her place is on this boat doesn’t mean she has to help the Fire Nation beyond that.

The urge turns into pain clawing at her heart—she bites her lip until it bleeds to hold in all the sounds. She doesn’t quite hear the banging at the door until it opens and there are hands on her upper arms, tugging her up onto the bed.

Between the tears and pain, she faintly recognizes the prince. He’s holding her in his arms again—like a child or a lover or something she doesn’t, she can’t think about now. He’s here and the vision is on the tip of her tongue—as if he’s supposed to hear this.

“No!” she cries, but some part of her knows this is true.

He’s saying something—he’s demanding to know what’s hurting her, she thinks—but then his Uncle is there. General Iroh kneels beside her. “She’s had a vision,” he says, “Something terrible must have happened.”

Something terrible was about to happen, she knew. The strangled noise that escapes her mouth is somewhere between a moan and a cry—she can feel the spirits pressing down on her, telling her to do her part and send their words into the world.

“Oracle,” the old man says, “Speak your truths and we shall listen.”

She fights it with everything she has, but it has been a long time since Katara’s strength has been enough to resist a vision--the spirits win and the words come tumbling out of her mouth and into the world. 

This fic is powered by likes, reblogs, and reviews! Moo

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Haven Raised- Chapter 3

On AO3

Summary:  Harry's life is completely changed when his aunt and uncle are forced to take him to a funeral at a relatives. Now being raised by Primrose Evans, her sister Grace and the citizens of Havenfall, his life is going to be a roller coaster.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

September 2012

“Please don’t mess up your clothes!” Prim called out to Harry who was rolling around with Spot. “We’re having family photos today!”

“Sorry, Mama!” Harry said, sitting up and rubbing Spot’s head. Prim shook her head and adjusted her hair as she waited for Grace to finish setting up the camera. She ran back with a grin and sat down next to Prim, Harry running over to jump in their laps.

“Alright- ten- nO! SPOT!” Grace shouted as Spot jumped up onto their laps as the Camera began to flash steadily.

Looking at the photos, Prim had to say it was the best family photo she’d seen.

Spot had jumped on them and knocked Grace over so she laid on the couch, the dog licking her face while Harry laughed in glee and Prim covered her mouth, eyes alight with humor.

It was perfect and one she did not put into the special potion to make it move.

It was perfect as it is.

October 2012

“I wanna dress up for Halloween this year,” Harry said to Prim as she worked on some bank statements from Gringotts. She’d encouraged the goblins to buy shares in the muggle world and it was making good money.

“... You sure kiddo?” Prim asked, pushing her glasses up.

“Yeah. I… is it bad that while I was happy to mourn them last year it’s…” Harry hesitated, trying to find the right word.

“Not as strong of an emotion?” Prim asked. Harry shrugged. “...Harry, you don’t need to mourn your parents as… people…” Prim frowned. That sounded weird. “That sounded strange.”

“A little,” Harry admitted. Prim hummed. “I mean, I liked our memorial last year but I don’t… want to do it this year? I wanna… dress up. Have fun… I miss them but…”

“You miss the idea of parents more than the actual parents,” said Prim. Harry looked surprised at her. “What? In the wise words of JD, I know stuff.”

“Is it wrong?”

“What?! No!” Prim said, shaking her head. “You didn’t know them. Not really anyway. Maybe if you were older I would wonder what sort of parents they were you don’t mourn them but… you don’t need to mourn them more than you have honey. No one gets to tell you when to move on, and no one gets to tell you that you need to keep mourning.”

“...Thanks.” Harry said softly and Prim beckoned him closer to kiss his forehead.

“So what do you want to be for Halloween?”

“I dunno. I want Spot to come with me though.” Prim chuckled and nodded. “Hmm, maybe a ringmaster and Spot can be a wolf?”

“Sure honey, we’ll figure something out.”

-0-

“He’s a strong kid,” Razi said as Prim cleaned the floor. She had no idea how Razi became her go-to for family talk after a year, but she didn’t mind. She liked the man- he was kind and sweet. “So, ringmaster costume?”

“There should be something in Indianapolis or at the very least something I can cobble together at the thrift store.” Prim shrugged.

“Well, this might work out well. I was thinking of creating formal Fridays…”

“Wait, what?” JD said, coming from the stockroom where they totally had not been paying attention.

“Yeah, like everyone dresses up in a nice formal dress.”

“...We work at a bowling alley,” said JD. Prim scrunched her nose.

“I have to agree. Imagine having to handle all of the customers in a dress.” Prim made a face.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Razi said grinning. “It’ll be more interesting than just hanging around all day like we all do half the time.” Prim had to wonder how the hell the bowling alley stayed open some days, given it was true that other then the bar there wasn’t much reason to go to the alley.

“Alright, however, I absolutely refuse to wear makeup for work like this,” Prim said. Make-up was really itchy.

“Deal.”

“Ugh, I hate suits.” JD groaned.

“Then wear a dress,” Razi replied. JD blinked.

“Huh, I do look good in them… but they’re always so frilly.”

“Only if they’re dresses like those reenactments or the ones some wear for cosplay or such,” said Prim. JD looked confused.

“Wait, they aren’t like that anymore?”

“Very funny,” Razi said dryly while Prim just stared at the two. What the hell was that about?

-0-

Harry was dressed in his ringmaster outfit with a wolf costume on Spot. Grace was dressed as one of those women who rode the horses and did tricks while Prim had been convinced to dress as a trapeze artist. It was Razi who took the photo for them after the family had stopped at the bowling alley to see Razi and JD. JD was dressed as an angel, prompting laughter from Prim.

“If you ever had a halo it was held up by devil horns,” she teased them. They cocked a grin.

“Why Prim, thank you!”

Razi was just wearing a top hat, prompting booing from Grace.

“You need to dress up Razi!” she said, glaring. Razi just smirked.

“I’m fabulous every day of the year. Adding one thing is a costume.” He winked and Harry went pink and scurried away with Spot. Grace withheld her snickers while Razi blinked and then covered his face. “I did not know that.”

“It’s a little adorable,” Prim said with a grin. JD snickered from beside Razi, a big grin on their face. “Please don’t tease Razi in front of Harry or Harry in front of Razi. He thinks we don’t know.”

“Can I tease him when he’s a teen and has a boyfriend or girlfriend or datefriend or whatever?” JD asked with a grin.

“Yes,” Prim said with a snicker. Razi just sighed.

“Okay, it’s a little funny… and I will happily take the place of being Harry’s first crush because again, I am the more fabulous one.” JD looked heavily offended as Prim and Grace left, Harry already outside the door.

Mackenzie was patrolling the town looking for teenage pranksters and gave them a nod.

“Excellent costumes.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Prim said with a grin. The group went door to door, Harry eager to get candy and Grace happy she had an excuse to get candy herself instead of feeling too old.

When they got to the doctor’s door, he winced at seeing Spot, but the dog just wagged his tail, much to his surprise.

“Dogs… usually don’t like me,” he said, petting Spot with a big grin on his face.

“If you want I can bring him around sometime!” Harry offered with a smile and Diego grinned.

“Thank you, Harry, that would be excellent.”

At the end of the night they did go back to let Spot play with Diego for a while, Harry falling asleep in the truck as Grace pigged out on her candy and Prim stole candy from the both.

It was a perfect night.

November 2012

Prim walked in to hear two people speaking Hindi and grinned.

“Hello!” she called out in the same language. She heard two callbacks and walked into the kitchen to see Chetas and Harry at the table, a delicious smell coming from the stove.

“Mama! Chetas is teaching me!” Harry said in English, grinning.

“He is doing well learning,” Chetas said in English as well. “How are your lessons coming?” she asked in Sanskrit.

“As well as they can, given I’m older and have a…” Prim frowned.

“Tougher?” Chetas asked, repeating it in both languages.

“Ah yes, that,” Prim said with a nod. “Tougher time learning.” Chetas waved her hand, assuring her she was doing well.

The little Indian woman often came to town to teach Harry and help Prim cook. Apparently, her grandchildren rarely visited and she got bored easily. Prim was somewhat surprised the little old granny could move so well and could drive to Havenfall as easily as she did.

Prim sat in for the rest of the lesson and learned some new dishes for Harry who adored them all. Grace was working that night and she complained about missing out all the next day.

-0-

“Does Chetas celebrate Christmas?” Harry asked Prim who frowned as she made dough for dumplings.

“You know… I don’t know.” Prim replied to Harry. “Probably not though. Why?”

“Her grandkids don’t visit much she says a lot. I thought ‘bout having her over for Christmas might make her smile?” Harry asked.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea honestly,” Prim said with a grin. “We can ask her next time we see her, yeah?” Harry grinned and nodded as Prim continued the preparations for the evening. If she hadn’t had Harry, she was fairly certain she and Grace would live off of fast food with how often the two were tired after work, but with Harry neither wanted him to become ill or sick because he did not receive the proper nutrition.

The mailbox lit up and Harry went over to pull out a letter from Remus. With the laws back in place, Remus was forced to only send letters to her again, though half the time it was obvious it was supposed to be Harry receiving the letters.

“Me or you kiddo?” Prim asked as Harry opened it.

“Me!” Harry said, grinning at the letter and going off to read it as Prim finished the dough. The doorbell rang then. “Mama?”

“I will be getting that young man!” Prim called out. She never wanted Harry to answer the door- feeling it would be too dangerous.

She washed her hands quickly and then went to the door, opening it to find Grace at the door, holding a bunch of bags, which was why she rang the doorbell.

“How did you get here from the store?” Prim asked in confusion, grabbing a few bags.

“I saw her trying to fit them onto her bike, so I gave her a ride,” a voice said. Mackenzie Hunt was coming up the steps, having pulled Grace’s bike out of her trunk.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Prim said, smiling at the taller woman. “Would you like some coffee as a thank you?” Mackenzie shook her head.

“No, it’s fine.” the woman said. “Have a nice afternoon, alright?” She smiled at Prim who smiled right back before she left. Prim closed the door to find Grace grinning behind her.

“...No.”

“I was only going to say that your old crush seems to be back.” Prim rolled her eyes at her little sister’s comment.

“It’s called I have eyes and am super bi, so I can see she’s hot,” Prim replied to Grace. The younger girl pouted.

“You never date,” Grace said. “You’re twenty years old and I know you think people are attractive, why not?”

“Because the dating pool in this town sucks,” Prim said, following her sister to the kitchen where Grace began putting away groceries and Prim began preparing the rest of supper.

“I dunno- I mean you’re close with the town doctor, Razi, JD, and the sheriff. And they’re all hot.” Grace replied. Prim gave her a look. “What?”

“The town doctor who I speak to as a customer, the sheriff who comes in to yell half the time at JD, my boss, and my coworker?”

“Well… they’re hot.” Grace shrugged and Prim sighed as Harry looked up from the letter.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Your crush on Razi,” Grace replied with a grin. Harry went brick red.

“It’s not a crush!” he cried out. “Razi is just super cool okay!?”

“Mhmm,” Grace said with a bigger grin. “So that’s why you neaten your clothing when you see him and make sure to always bring back your history homework for help?”

“Mama!” Harry cried out.

“Stop teasing Harry about his crush Grace.”

“It’s not a crush!!”

December 2012

“Thanks for letting Chetas come to the party, Harry’s excited,” Prim said to Razi. He waved his hand.

“Chetas is more than welcome given she’s helping Harry connect with his heritage.”

“She needs to participate in White Elephant though!” JD said, passing them by. Razi shrugged and Prim chuckled.

“I’ll tell her that. Is Diego coming as well?”

“Yeah, so is the sheriff,” Razi replied.

“What?” Prim asked, tilting her head.

“She works Christmas this year- so I thought I’d invite her to the party for Christmas cheer.” Razi shrugged.

“...did you just use Christmas cheer unironically?” Prim asked as JD raised their eyebrows and stared at Razi.

“Oh shut up the both of you.”

December 20, 2012

The party was rather simple that year, with everyone simply sitting around at the bar and chatting. Prim wore the snowman sweater Grace had bought her, while Grace wore a sweater with a cat wearing a Santa hat on it, while JD pouted about not being able to wear their shirt with a Christmas tree burning on it.

“It’s not really festive,” Prim said.

“Festive?!” JD huffed. “Like the sheriff’s plaid is festive?!”

“It’s red and green,” Mackenzie points out. JD rolled their eyes while Grace snickered. Chetas chuckled from her position on the couch and Prim gave her a confused look. They hadn’t been loud, how could she hear that?

“Mama, can you help me sit on a stool?” Harry asked Prim who agreed and went to help him sit on a stool next to Diego who smiled at them.

“Pleasure to see you too.” Harry pouted at Diego who chuckled. “Not liking I had to give you some shots?”

“No,” Harry crossed his arms and glared at Diego who just laughed. Prim laughed and ruffled his hair as Razi handed Diego a drink.

“Think fast!” Chetas suddenly called out.

 They all turned to see Chetas holding a camera, and she took a photo of them all. Prim laughed as both Diego and Mac protested they hadn’t been ready, while JD just laughed at the whole thing.

“Nice one,” Grace laughed. She took the camera and got Chetas to stand in the photo, taking another photo that was somewhat more refined, with everyone aware of it.

At least until it was developed and you saw JD giving the sheriff bunny ears.

March 2013

“I DON’T WANNA!” Harry shouted at Prim who scowled.

“Well, I don’t care if you want to or not! You have to go to school and apologize to the teacher-” Prim said firmly, hands on her hips when Harry shouted out,

“I HATE YOU!” he stomped off and hid in the bowling alley bathroom, leaving Prim staring after him. She sat on a stool, thankful that no one was in that day.

JD and Razi traded glances, and then JD shook their head and crept off despite the annoyed look Razi was sending them. The man sighed and then filled a glass with water, placing it down beside Prim.

“Here, have a drink.”

“He hates me,” Prim said softly.

“How many times did you say that to your parents?” Razi asked.

“Once and then they died the next day,” Prim replied. Razi did not answer, to busy staring at the back of her head. “...Mostly joking.” Prim said.

“Well, then you know you didn’t mean it, right? I remember saying that to my parents a few times.”

“I’m fairly certain JD means it when they say they hate their dad,” Prim said.

“JD’s case is… special.” Razi replied. “I would not base your relationship with Harry on JD’s with their dad. Do you know why he yelled at his teacher?”

“She dislikes me,” Prim responded. Razi made a face. Sure, some of the hate towards the Evans family was gone from what it once had been, but it was still there. “She doesn’t do anything to Harry but she made a comment about me he overheard and…” Prim shrugged.

“And yet you’re making him apologize?” Razi asked.

“I am angry at what she said, but I also understand that Harry yelling at teachers will accomplish nothing. As well, I wish for him to respect teachers. Yes, she does not like me but she has never let it affect how she treats him. If it did, I would let him scream and yell at her, and report it, but as it isn’t- then he needs to respect her.” Prim said. “She has earned his respect by acting like a teacher.”

“So you’re teaching him respect,” Razi stated.

“As well, I find it funny how most people take my attitude and get confused that I never negatively react to them. It’s hilarious.” Prim admitted, smirking as she turned around to sip her water. Razi snorted at that.

“Trying to teach Harry how to act like you then?”

“More trying to teach him how to mess with people by acting very polite and kind when they are not,” Prim said. “But also trying to teach him that as she has earned this respect, she gets it.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll understand. Let him cool off a bit and then have another chat.” Razi said. Prim smiled and reached out to pat his arm.

“Thank you, Razi.”

“What I’m here for. Advice and to pay you.”

“You’re good at it.” Prim snickered. Razi rolled his eyes at her and she just laughed.

Luckily, Harry did cool off and they had a long conversation about respect that ended with Harry agreeing to apologize. The teacher was shocked when he did and seemed to treat Prim a little better after that. Prim just smiled when she did. 

It was very satisfying.

June 2013

Prim flipped through the channels on the TV, feeling exhausted. She’d agreed to pull a double shift as there had been four birthday parties booked and Razi needed all hands on deck- especially when it turned out one party had glitter decorations. Prim had tried to wash her hair three times but there was still glitter in her hair.

A documentary about Bigfoot appeared and she grinned, clicking on it. Bad documentaries were her favorite things to watch. As well, it would give her an excuse to avoid sleeping in her room. She still wasn’t used to it.

She was rather absorbed in the documentary when Harry touched her arm.

“Honey?” she asked in surprise. He had red eyes that he rubbed at.

“I had a bad dream,” he said in a soft tone, hanging his head. Prim reached out and pulled him down to sit with her, letting him snuggle into her, holding onto a stuffed stag that Remus had sent him for Christmas.

“Want to watch a terrible documentary?” Prim asked. Harry nodded and the two watched the documentary, giggling at the bad effects until they fell asleep.

Grace took a photo the next morning, one that would join the many on the walls of the two cuddling on the couch.

July 2013

“Happy birthday Harry!” Chetas sang out as she set down a cake that she and Prim had made together. Harry grinned at the group that had shown up. He had a few friends from school, but he typically didn’t hang out with them because he didn’t like how their parents gave Prim weird looks and he hated people being mean to his Mama!

Razi and JD had shown up though, given the amount of time he spent at the bowling alley Harry felt like they were part of his family. Though he did not want to add Razi to the family like that!! It wasn’t a crush!!! It was admiration!

He blew out the candles as everyone cheered around him and his Mama came to kiss his forehead.

He closed his eyes and smiled.

Everything was perfect.

September 2013

“I hate picture day,” Harry grumbled as Prim fixed his hair.

“And I hate that your hair won’t stay flat,” Prim replied.

“It’s the Potter curse Uncle Remus says,” Harry smirked at his mother who just stuck her tongue out at him.

“Maybe growing it out will fix it,” Prim said. Harry immediately perked up.

“Can I put it in a ponytail?” he asked eagerly. Prim chuckled. The crush was still going strong.

“Course you can baby,” Prim said, kissing his forehead. She then sighed. “I give up. Grace! You said you had an idea?”

“Punk rock!” Grace said gleefully as she danced into the bathroom, listening to her iPod through one headphone. She had just bought the new Jonas Quinton album and was thrilled. “Not your style.”

“Okay, one- you dress in pink and blues and soft tones,” Prim said firmly as Grace began styling Harry’s hair in a spiky style. “Second, I do wear jeans and t-shirts!”

“And then you wear things like pleated skirts and blouses or dresses and shawls.” Grace shot back, sticking her tongue out. “I’m more hip than you!”

“I’m 21, you’re 16-”

“Almost 17!”

“Almost 17, that is not much of a difference, thank you.” Prim rolled her eyes at Grace’s face she made as she finished with Harry’s hair and then got him to change his shirt to a black button up instead of the white.

Prim did not mention how much better it looked.

Grace’s smirk made her realize she knew though.

October 2013

“So you hooked up with some guy in Indianapolis and now you’re feeling guilty?” JD asked Prim sighed. “This is weird.”

“It’s not guilt. It’s… being unaware if a… hook up was proper when you have a son.” Prim said. JD rolled their eyes.

“Look, you had fun, right? You enjoyed yourself and Harry was at a sleepover so he was taken care of. Grace is old enough to be by herself- stop feeling guilty!” They threw their hands up in annoyance.

“I can’t just stop JD,” Prim said. “It’s… I don’t know. Should I be looking for someone special? So that I can give Harry another parent?”

“...Prim, you’re 21.” JD said, leaning on the bar counter and giving her a look. “You don’t need to focus on finding the ONE right now or your soulmate or whatever. Yeah, it would be great for Harry to have like a dad or another mom or a… bibi or whatever, but like… real talk? He just needs a stable family and you’re that already. Plus like Razi is his super crush slash uncle which is weird to think about, but yeah. You can focus on having fun and having a few hookups.”

“...His parents did sign him up for some fancy boarding school next year. Maybe I’ll have some more fun then.” Prim chuckled. JD pointed at her.

“See? And really?”

“Harry’s technically a lord though… not really? I believe the title was removed a century ago.” When there was something that had happened with the Black family. Prim honestly had not opened that can of worms after learning some of the more… disturbing situations the Blacks had caused.

“...Bullshit.” JD said. Prim shrugged and they stuck out their tongue, revealing a piercing.

“Didn’t know you had that pierced,” Prim remarked, a little impressed. Other then her ears, she had never wanted any other piercings. Much too painful.

“Oh, yeah. An ex-girlfriend had one and it was wild so I got one.” JD waggled their eyebrows and Prim shook her head.

“...Thanks for the chat,” she said finally. They shrugged.

“Hey, no problem. We’re friends, right?” They winked at her and she grinned.

“I suppose I put up with you enough.” Prim shot back.

“Yay, we’re all a happy family,” Razi said, voice dry as a desert. “Now please get to work.”

“Right away,” both said, sharing grins.

-0-

Prim clutched the phone in her hand as she tried to figure out what to do. Harry was sick, while Grace and she both had work. She couldn’t take Harry into work and she couldn’t miss work either- nor could Grace! She was finally being trained as a waitress. They needed to go to work!

She struggled to think of someone to watch her kid, someone who had the day… off…

She dialed a number and prayed it would be okay.

“Yo, this is JD.”

“JD can I ask you a huge favor?”

After explaining the situation, JD agreed and ended up driving up on their bike.

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” Prim said at the door.

“Eh, not like I had anything else to do.” They said with a shrug. “He’s asleep?”

“Yeah, probably won’t wake up but if he does he’ll just want to sit on the couch and watch some show. He’s really into Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood right now-”

“You let him watch that?” JD asked, somewhat surprised she would let him watch such a bloody show. She didn’t seem the type at all. Prim frowned at them.

“It’s not that bad and I trust his maturity level.” Prim shrugged. “Alright, I have to go- there’s a bunch of food in the fridge. Help yourself!” She waved and left, leaving them behind. JD entered the house and wondered what the hell they’d been thinking, agreeing to babysit. Like, sure, they liked the kid but babysitting? Ugh.

They grabbed some food from the fridge and turned on the TV, noticing someone had been watching some sort of documentary about aliens on CrispyFlix.

“Who watches that?” They wondered out loud. Maybe it was one of the late night needing to sleep binges. They flickered through the shows before landing on an anime their sister had said was good. They had plenty to say about Hikari but she had good taste in anime.

Watching for a little while, they heard someone coming down the stairs. Pausing the show, they saw Harry coming down the stairs carrying his stag plushie.

“Hey kid,” JD said, giving the kid a grin. “You up now?”

“Mmm,” the kid mumbled, coming over to the couch to grab a blanket and wrapping himself up in it. JD wordlessly turned the show to the anime he would like. JD had just finished the series themself so it would be interesting to watch it with the kid and see his reactions.

“I like Edward,” Harry said softly halfway through the episode where they meet Greed. “He’s a good big brother.”

“I agree with you there,” JD told the kid. “I do like the Colonel’s alchemy more though.”

“Mmm, I like Mei’s stuff. Super cool throwing knives and directing her power.” Harry said.

“Hey, that’s a good point.”

“And she has a cute panda.”

“Who bites. I like that thing.” JD chuckled. Harry smiled at JD who flashed a grin back. They continued their quiet chatter throughout the episode, Harry gasping in horror at the death of the various chimera in Greed’s base. “Yeah, it gets darker here on out. You sure you wanna watch without your mom?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sounding a bit nervous but he swallowed. “You’re here, right JD? I trust you.”

“...Trust me with what?” JD asked slowly.

“Being there when it gets dark,” Harry responded. JD stared at the kid, confused and a little touched by the honest words from the boy, though they didn’t say anything. Just swallowed and went back to watching.

JD was unaware of Harry drifting off until soft snores came from the kid after a few more episodes. They paused the TV and hesitated for a second, looking at Harry. The kid was sleeping weird and probably would get a kink in his neck if he stayed there longer. And… the kid was a good kid and sick and…

“This means nothing,” JD muttered as they picked up Harry and carefully carried him upstairs. It took a few minutes to find his room, and they paused to see that Spot was sleeping at the end of the bed. The dog woke up when JD entered to tuck Harry into his bed, raising his head. The dog traded a look with JD before going back to sleep.

“Yeah, you don’t say anything I won’t either,” JD muttered to the dog before they put Harry into his bed. They left after making sure the kid was covered. Wouldn’t want him to get sicker.

Afterward, they went back downstairs to pretend it had never happened at all.

October 31, 2013

“I am Dracula!” Harry said in a loud voice, showing off his costume for the bowling alley. Spot wore a pair of bat wings attached to his back and looked done.

Meanwhile, JD was covering their mouth, looking way too amused while Razi was smiling widely and Diego just stared. JD was dressed up as a ‘slutty witch’ as they called it complete with a very short skirt. Razi was again just wearing a top hat while Diego wore his normal clothing.

“Nice costume,” Razi said as Prim removed her witch hat. She had dressed as the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of OZ and was already regretting the paint.

“He's been obsessing over vampires since Grace found this website of vampire jokes.” JD perked right up as Diego groaned.

“Tell us some!” JD insisted. Harry grinned while Prim grimaced.

“Why did the vampire flunk art?” Harry asked.

“I don't know, why?”

“Because he could only draw blood!” Harry grinned as JD snorted. “How did you know the vampire was sick said the nurse. Well, the doctor said, he wouldn't stop coffin!” JD started laughing as Harry continued to state bad vampire jokes, Razi chortling a few times himself while Diego just looked long-suffering.

Prim managed to remind Harry about trick or treating but JD made the boy promise to give them the website he got the jokes from.

Prim was not looking forward to the next few months of work.

November 2013

“Chetas is kinda like my grandma,” Harry said to Prim as he struggled with his homework at the bar. Prim was cleaning glasses, feeling exhausted. She had been working extra shifts as her truck was having issues and she needed the money.

“...Huh, I suppose she is.” Prim blinked. “...Do you wanna call her that?”

“...Nah. She’s Chetas.” Harry shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

-0-

 Diego checked Harry’s blood pressure, Prim sitting in the room quietly.

“Well, looks like another clean bill of health… and no shots,” Diego said with a chuckle. Harry grinned as Prim chuckled.

“Thank you, Dr. Diego!” Harry said in a happy tone, smiling up at the doctor who grinned back.

“Thank you for bringing Spot over to play. I miss having a dog.” Diego told tas he packed his bag with the ease of practice. “Have you thought about doing a sport?” He asked Harry who shrugged.

“I’m going to a boarding school my mum and dad signed me up for at birth. Mama says it’s a really good one. They’ll have sports then!” He grinned and with permission ran off. While his mama always made sure to include him in discussions about him, he also got bored easily and trusted her to tell him stuff.

“Is there any reason you brought up sports? He’s a fairly active child with Spot.” Prim asked the doctor who finished packing his stuff.

“...It’s a small town Miss Evans, and I am well aware of the fact Harry does not have…”

“Many friends?” Prim asked. She tilted her head and gave a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Is Razi gossiping again?”

“Somewhat,” Diego admitted with a chuckle. Prim shook her head, a fond smile on her face as she rolled her eyes.

“That man. The thing is Doctor, is that Harry is going to be going to a school in England. As well, the school only has physical mail sources as they believe that computers are detrimental to the learning process. Harry’s aware of the struggles it would cause to remain friends and wishes to be alone because of this.” Prim shrugged. “As well, he’s not… comfortable with people still. He prefers his dog.”

“So you don’t push because you worry for him?” Diego asked. Prim nodded.

“Quite right. He’s a good kid and… well, I wasn’t that social either as a child though that was more due to bullying and the… dislike of the town. However, I still turned out fairly all right.” She shrugged again. “I will consider sports or something similar for summer programming if his lack of a social life continues while he’s in England.”

“You’re a good mother, I don’t doubt you’ll do the best you can for him,” Diego told her, nodding. “Have a good evening.”

“You as well doctor, and thank you again for your house calls,” Prim said to the man, walking him out.

“Well, not much of a hospital here in town and I don’t enjoy the thought of a bunch of people coming to my house to spread illness where I sleep.” Diego chuckled. He nodded to her and left the house as she waved him off.

Harry was busy roughhousing with Spot in his room when she checked in on him. She watched for a little while, smiling but she left, sighing.

Was she doing the right thing by not forcing her kid out to socialize? She knew that most experts said that at least one productive after school activity would help Harry in the long run- even if it was something like a swim club where it was more individual focused sports- but she had never really bothered because she knew he was going to Hogwarts.

All she could do was hope he could make friends there.

December 2013

“Okay, worst date go!” JD said, pointing at Razi. It was a ‘staff meeting’ night or a night where the three would just sit around and chat. Razi had started it after he’d noticed the tension between JD and Prim but they never stopped doing them after the two became friends.

“Ugh, okay so it was with this guy and he was very… focused on the idea of being a top?” Razi said, making a face.

“Not one of those types.” Prim groaned, covering her face. She’d met a few ladies who were more focused on being as dominant or as submissive as possible. Some weren’t bad, but others…

“I have no problem with either way but this guy was… he was offended at my height and muscle mass!” Razi rolled his eyes. “It ended with me just leaving.”

“Ugh that sucks,” JD said. They then pointed to Prim. “Your turn.”

“It wasn’t a date but it was a… friends with benefits situation.” Prim began. “It was when I was traveling. I met up with a very pretty woman who was traveling as well and I thought; well then, let’s travel together. We started… having fun together about two weeks in. We both found each other attractive and we both agreed that sometimes it was hard to find a partner while traveling so why not.”

“Let me guess,” JD said. “One of you began taking it more seriously?”

“Yes. We both made it clear that were would break it off or talk if one of us developed feelings. Or that we would never assume said feelings would be returned. We both were aware that…” Prim shrugged. “Well, we were aware humans make unhealthy choices sometimes and that we might not talk or break it off so… we promised. However she…” Prim made a motion with her hand, just waving it. “She decided that I had to have feelings for her and when I broke it off to come back here, she was furious that I was not only breaking it off but also that I didn’t return her feelings.”

“I’ve had a situation like that,” JD said, shuddering. “But again, worst date.”

“You just let me tell my story!” Prim said.

“You offered it, I agree though. Worst date!” Razi said with a grin. Prim rolled her eyes but laughed.

“My date tripped into the waiter coming back from the bathroom and the waiter dumped a hot plate of pasta on me while I was wearing a light blue dress,” Prim said. “Ruined the dress, the guy thought it romantic to go ‘Oh baby, wanna go back to my place to change?’” She mocked the man's voice in her most ridiculous tone, causing JD and Razi to burst into laughter. “Only bright side is I got free food out of that.”

“That sucks,” JD said, still laughing. “And my worst dates usually involve misgendering or people being dicks.” They shrugged as Prim and Razi made faces at that. “Razi’s turn to ask a question!”

“Alright… what is… your favorite take-out order?”

“Razi, ask a real one!”

“What? We’re all hungry!” Prim laughed as the two bickered, smiling at her friends. She hadn’t expected to earn such a bond with them when she first started working at the bowling alley but she loved it.

-0-

Chetas sat at the bar, watching as Prim spoke with Harry, the two playing some arcade game while JD and Grace cheered them on.

“She’s a good one.” mused Chetas, accepting the drink Razi handed her. “Haven’t said anything yet?”

“No. We thought it more appropriate to wait.” He replied, leaning on his arms that he folded on the bar. “You tell her?”

“Better to come from close friends than old woman they see once in a while,” Chetas replied. Razi shrugged.

“Well, when the kid goes off, we’re gonna have a chat. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t.” Razi said.

“You mean if the child stays here after the kid leaves. It’s a way to judge isn’t it?” Chetas asked in amusement. Razi shrugged and turned to Diego who had been keeping out of the conversation to give him a drink. He also grabbed the camera to snap a photo of Grace, Prim and Harry laughing as the two stood in front of an arcade machine.

It was a good picture.

January 2014

“I am never going to a New Year's Eve party JD hosts again,” Prim muttered, head between her legs. She was sitting on the couch after falling asleep the night before and had a horrific headache pounding in her ears.

“Hangover from hell, hmmmmmm?” Grace asked in a teasing tone, setting down a glass of water.

“I am never drinking again,” Prim muttered. Harry was being very quiet and she hated it because he had gotten terrified when she came in drunk. He remembered his uncle far too well when he got drunk.

“Or at least not with JD. Razi called and said you matched them shot for shot- and I know they have crazy tolerance.” Grace said.

“Leave me alone,” Prim said. She curled up on the couch and ignored her sister and son as the two giggled at her.

Never again.

March 2014

Harry was sitting in the diner eating a big sundae that his mama had got him for acing his latest science test. Grace was keeping an eye on him with Luce’s permission, the owner still not a fan of the family but she had a soft spot for kids.

The door opened and two men came in, quietly chatting. As it was a seat yourself place, the went and sat down behind Harry.

“Alright, so this place?” one asked.

“Only weird thing is the fog, Dean. That’s the only weird thing.”

“And no big deaths or anything at all?”

“Nope. Just a lot of fog.”

“Alright, do we have a case at all Sammy?”

“A few towns south yeah- missing people.” The door opened then and JD came in.

“Who has the Impala? That’s a thing of beauty!” they called out and the people behind Harry laughed.

“Thanks… uhhh…”

“Name’s JD,” JD laughed. “Nice to meet you.” They came over, stopping to say hi to Harry before they started a conversation with the two behind Harry about cars and bikes. Harry finished his sundae before his mama came into the diner.

“JD, Razi says get back to work before he decides to come after you,” Prim told her coworker who sighed.

“Fine. Have a nice night off Prim. Thanks for the chat, Dean.” JD left with a wave.

“Prim, is it?” asked Dean in a weird voice. Harry turned around to kneel on the seat, looking at Dean.

“Why are you talking like that to my mama?” Prim chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair.

“He’s being foolish sweetie. And my answer is no.” She told Dean who shrugged. Harry gave her a confused look and she just laughed.

“Yay, my sister gets hit on by a hot guy-” Grace muttered as she walked away.

“She’s underage,” Prim told Dean who raised his hands.

“Whoa, wasn’t going to lady.”

“Just making absolutely sure. Harry, let us depart.” Prim said, ruffling his hair again. The two left, leaving behind the strangers as the mother and son headed to their truck.

July 2014

It was a nice sunny day when the mailbox glowed in the corner of the kitchen. Grace dug through the mail pile that had arrived, grinning when she found one certain letter.

“Mr. Harry Potter, the second biggest room-” she read off the envelope before Harry grabbed it, cheering.

“It’s my Hogwarts letter! I’m going to Hogwarts!!”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

I lied. The next two years got squashed together because I couldn’t think of any other cute scenes. As well, first-year happens before Season 1 of Havenfall, so we’ll get through this and then the Havenfall fun starts. As well… I originally was completely sure about where the pairing was going but now I’m torn because I thought of like eight REALLY GOOD plot points for another route and now it’s… gar. At least I have year one first before the big decision.

PLOT STUFF I WANNA CHAT ABOUT

-I love the MC original outfit but I also love the idea of Prim wearing these super cute prim and proper outfits like *insert links* so… yeah. She wears a wide variety of clothing. She’s just picky about when she wears them.

-The scene with Harry asking if it’s okay if he stops mourning is something I decided on due to far-reaching plot points. Yes, the previous chapter had him mourning but this is due to the fact it was the first time he knew. It’s not… to me, the idea of Harry always mourning his parents as people just doesn’t make sense. He didn’t know them, and here- not only did he get negative and wrong information from the Dursley family, but Prim doesn’t really know much other then Lily was a nice cousin sort of thing. So he mourns the idea of a loving set of parents, but not his actual parents. Add in that Prim is his mom now, and he more mourns the what if, but he’s a kid and bounces back.

-You know, originally I had this huge plot where JD and Prim fought a fair bit because Prim is very much not like JD, but the more I wrote it the more I went: Damn it, I like their canon interaction in all their routes (friends who mess with each other) too much. So yeah, less bickering than I originally intended.

-I know Razi canonly is a fucking brick wall, but Harry is tiny nine-year-old who has gay baby crush on Razi and is OBVIOUS AS FUCK. Running away red because of a gin? Yeah, obvious. Probably had more stuff happen before this and now it’s hitting him.

-The teacher bit… oh, no I’m not stating how the Snape thing will go down. Not at all.

-Ages ago I wrote a one-shot with JD having a tongue piercing and it literally is my favorite headcanon of them. I got told I was the one to be the originator of this and like: what? But anyway- it’s canon. NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

-Chetas was going to get called grandma but like… I realized while I will be dragging her in and out of the story I kinda like the idea of her being just Chetas? I dunno? She’s Chetas.

-It’s canon that Diego makes house calls and was going to the MC house in his route to give Grace shots for college. As well, it’s mentioned the hospital is a bit away so I assume there’s a small town nearby (but with some distance) with a hospital that most Havenfall folks go to in an emergency, while Diego does act as the general doctor in Havenfall he just makes house calls mostly. (There was a town near mine growing up that did something similar).

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, Entry 379

 After our plane landed, I allowed Vito to carry me through the city, not wishing to slow him and his brothers down.  I knew I could just ask my niece, but her method of traveling still didn’t sit quite right in my mind.  There should be some distance traveled, not an instantaneous arrival without the travel!  That girl never made anything simple.

 When we arrived at James’ estate, he was already outside to greet us—even I could see that from here, but we stopped just short of crossing into the yard for a few seconds to examine the magic between us and him, quite unsuccessfully seeking its purpose.  James had left just enough of his spells visible to act as a warning for anyone who could see magic, but even with my relatively unique gifts, I couldn’t feel enough of the spell to take a guess at its purpose.  

 “James!  So nice of you to invite us.” stated Vito after setting me down and slowing down enough to allow our entrance together.  He smiled and bowed as he spoke.  “Might I inquire as to the nature of these spells around the yard?”

 “Simply things to assist with our privacy and the decorations for today.  You four are always welcome.” replied James without a hint of pride or mockery in his words.  He really did see the spells as simple.

 “Excellent.  Zachary, mind seeing that my things are mailed here?  Might as well move while the offer is good.” teased Papak with one of his disturbingly toothy grins.  He grinned like that on purpose, of course, but he really couldn’t help that his natural form was so far removed from human.  Ignoring the enormous wings, he was still at least twice as tall as a man should be, his head was enormous, his mouth was still too big for that head, and his long arms ended with hands so large that he could pick any of us up in one of them with ease.  He really did resemble a gargoyle more than a vampire not of his lineage.

 Feigning surprise as he looked up at his elder brother, Zachary said, “Sorry.  My things were mailed last week.  They should arrive soon.  I’d have sent yours as well had I known you were interested.”

 “Oh, good.  Ariadne and I will finally have some peace.” claimed Vito, smiling at his brothers.  He turned to me and asked “Any thoughts on how we should remodel things?”

 I gave the idea some thought before telling him “I’m sure my niece would love to see Papak’s rooms turned pink and decorated as her second suite for visiting.  We would, of course, have to make sure everything is fit for a princess for her to be satisfied.  Maybe sell off whatever they leave behind to cover the expense.”

 “No.  I’ll live there for another thousand years before I have her defile my rooms with pink.” insisted Papak with obvious determination.

 “Going to fight her on that point?” I inquired, pretending to be innocent in this matter.

 “Well…” he started, looking around for help—or possibly checking if Aaliyah were nearby with how he glanced toward her condo.  His gaze suddenly fixed on James as he asked “James, where is your lovely wife?  We came bearing gifts!  They’re stored in Ariadne’s head, but we each thought them up ourselves.”  He almost reached over to tap my head, but had quickly withdrawn his arm before continuing the motion, not wishing for my niece to tease him.

 As troublesome as my niece was, being her relative could be very amusing.

 “She’s finishing some work at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll be around soon.  Though she has considerably less now that Godric has taken over, she still has more than a reasonable amount.” explained James in a resigned tone.  Then his smile returned and he said, “Come, join me around back.  I want to show you what my friend did by accident, so you can see why I’m seeking Ariadne’s instruction for her.”

 He started jogging back there, so we followed, even after Papak picked up the pace to race ahead of us and steal James away.  I involuntarily slowed a little as I caught sight of the obvious change to the backyard.  Though small compared with the mansion, the keep appeared quite sturdy and shouldn’t be counted as a small building anywhere.

 “She did this by accident?” I asked when we caught up to James.  I was already using my magic to explore it and found that the keep extended underground as well.

 James nodded, saying, “From what I was told, she was struggling to find words to explain her idea to Emma, and this happened.”

 “That is impressive.” I admitted, continuing with my examination.  “Seems she destroyed some tunnels with her own.”

 “I’m certain you can see why I thought a little extra instruction was in order.” he told me, absently motioning to the keep.

 “Yes, I would say she has talent, but something this size should never be an accident.” commented Vito.  “Tell me, does Rai…”

 James moved far faster than I could’ve managed, covering Vito’s mouth.  In explanation, he said, “Sorry, but if you say her name, she might well notice, given that the weather is nice.”

 “Really?  I find that to be even more impressive.” replied Vito with a hint of surprise.

 “Yes.  I have absolute faith that she’ll become truly extraordinary in time, but even now—with her still scared of her own power—she’s remarkable.” insisted James, glancing upward at the keep’s walls.

 As I admired the amount of detail Raine had put into this structure, I assured James, “You know I’ll try to help.  For now, why don’t you and I get out of this sun while the trio admires the rest of the fort.  Portentia wouldn’t happen to be around, would she?”

 “I took the liberty of securing her day once you sent notice that you could come.  Cosette’s been anticipating your visit as well, so she’s probably with her too.” he replied, turning and leading the way to his home.

 Vito, Zachary, and Papak caught up to our slow pace after running around the keep for a while.  When we reached the nearest doorway, the door opened to reveal a short, pretty girl with voluminous blonde hair and a somewhat confused expression.

 When she caught sight of James, she exclaimed “James!  How are you?”

 “Hello, Noelle.” he replied.  Then he introduced the rest of us to her.  “Noelle is my newest hire.” he explained.  “She’s still getting her bearings.  What brings you out here, Noelle?”

 “Uh…” started the girl as question marks appeared all around her head.  They were illusions and slightly transparent, but the girl didn’t seem to even be aware she was doing it.  Those quickly switched to an illusion sitting over her actual features, attempting a poker face.

 I started examining her with my magic, and my heart went out to her.  This poor, poor girl couldn’t have much of a short-term memory.  Even standing here, trying to figure out why she was here, her brain was losing information.  She was obviously part fey, but a type I hadn’t known when they were around.  If only I had seen the source of these powers, I might be able to help her.

 “Feeling hungry for that tart you saw Dejon eating?” questioned Mila from the hall’s speakers.

 “Maybe!  That sounds right.” Noelle replied, nodding and smiling.

 “Just follow the lights to the kitchen.” instructed Mila.  “You know you can always ask me for help.”

 “Of course!” exclaimed Noelle as she took a step.  Seeming to remember that James was there, she turned and said, “Catch you later, James!”  Then she continued on her way.

 “Sorry.” stated James once we were inside and Noelle was beyond hearing us.  “Mila allows her to wander at times when Noelle seems to have a purpose in mind.”

 “Doesn’t seem like she’s all there.” commented Papak.

 I spun to jab him in the chest with my finger.  “Don’t you dare say a thing about that poor girl.”

 “What!?  You all saw…” he replied, looking for support from his brothers.

 “What’s wrong with her?” questioned Zachary.

 “Nothing, according to Aaliyah.  Noelle was simply unfortunate in how her fey heritage affects her memory.” explained James.

 “That is certainly one way to put it.” I agreed.  “The way her magic passes through her mind must help keep her happy, but parts of her brain get altered by it.  She wasn’t even doing any of that on purpose.”

 “What did you see?” questioned James with genuine curiosity.

 I stared at him for a moment before I realized that he wouldn’t have been able to see the projections.  What I had taken for illusions at first, had been projections directly into our minds, an ability that couldn’t touch James.  “I suppose there are even downsides to your abilities.  The moment tarts were mentioned, they seemed to float around her head with heart signs.”

 “Before the tarts, I had the impression she was trying to have an unreadable expression to cover her confusion, but the overlapping image didn’t quite keep up with her movements.  Would not using her magic help her?  I’m sure you could seal it.” suggested Vito.

 I shook my head, wishing I could manage.  “My niece could.  She won’t, but changing what I’d need to change in Noelle’s brain might well alter her personality completely.  Might’ve been a mercy when she was still a babe, but I won’t make that choice for her, not with her being at least a teen now.”

 James nodded and said, “Nineteen.  Dejon’s going to try to help her remember certain things she really wants to remember using his magic.”

 “Could work for short periods.” I agreed, silently hoping his power would work better than I expected.  Not willing to dwell on an impossible issue, I asked “Mila, where’s Portentia hiding?”

 “Great Auntie, she’s in the billiard room, doing trick shots against Cosette.” replied my grandniece.  

 I nodded and started walking down the hall with the others following me.  Unable to resist the urge even a couple steps, I asked Mila “How’s your sister doing?”

 “Exactly as Mother wishes, but I don’t have direct access to the womb, only able to bring up images as the screen is engaged.” she explained.

 “I’ll just have to visit and look.  She’ll let me.” I replied confidently.  “I am almost curious what my niece is thinking, but I still have more common sense than to go down that rabbit hole.”

 James smirked but wisely chose not to comment.  He was the one person in the world I couldn’t threaten with my niece, but she wouldn’t interfere if I gave him a piece of my mind either.  I sighed again as my thoughts went back to Noelle.  I hated feeling helpless, but this was probably the best place for her in the entire world.  James would look after her.

[suchagiantnerd]

28 Books, 1 Year

Well, 2020, amirite? Staying home with a 4-year-old and a baby really decreased my reading time, bringing me to my lowest total ever since starting this blog. Here we go!

1. Her Body and Other Parties / Carmen Maria Machado

I rarely feel stupid when reading fiction, but this collection of short stories left me feeling pretty stupid. Machado's writing is visceral and gorgeous but what she's trying to say is mostly beyond me. Overall, the collection (as evident by the title) looks at the ways existing in a woman's body is fraught. Sometimes we want to escape our bodies, often our bodies are harmed or taken advantage of against our will, sometimes our bodies fail us. But as for the more nitty-gritty takeaways, I couldn't get there. One story in particular is staying with me. In it, Machado invents new summaries of each and every episode of Law & Order: SVU, telling a tale of a living, breathing New York City that requires regular blood sacrifices and in which everyone has a doppelgänger. I liked it, but definitely didn't get it.

2. Moon of the Crusted Snow / Waubgeshig Rice

This wonderfully chilling read takes place on a remote reserve in Northern Ontario. Over the course of a few days, cell service stops, the internet goes down, and the power goes out. With no communication possible with other communities, the reserve's residents can only guess at what may be occurring down south. As autumn creeps toward winter, the snow piles up and panic sets in. Eventually, a visitor arrives via snowmobile and confirms the residents' worst fears about the state of civilization while also asking to stay on in the community. Can he be trusted? Will others follow? This was a tense page-turner looking at the importance of community, preparedness and leadership.

3. Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar / Cheryl Strayed

Dear Sugar's advice to a person who didn't know whether or not he wanted kids is what turned me onto her. The answer was perfect. For someone on the fence, there is no right answer, no wrong answer. But there was a simple beauty to the way she said this. In this advice column collection, Sugar answers questions about love, parenthood, friendship, loss, death, finances, education, hopes and dreams. She insists again and again that we open our hearts and give forgiveness a chance while still maintaining healthy boundaries. And through her answers (and anecdotes) she showers love and care on so many devastated readers who are often writing to her as a last resort.

4. Girlfriend in a Coma / Douglas Coupland

We start the action with a Breakfast Club-type group of teens at a party in 1979 Vancouver. One of them, Karen, ends the night in a coma and doesn’t wake up for 16 YEARS. Also, turns out she was pregnant, and gives birth while in the coma. Richard, her boyfriend, raises their daughter with the help of his parents and friends, and by the time Karen wakes up again, the world has gone downhill. Not long after she wakes up, everyone starts falling asleep and dying except for the original group of friends and Karen’s daughter. I liked this novel as I’m a sucker for everything dystopian, but I also had to ask WHY? Why this random group of teens out of all the world? Why did Karen have to be in a coma for so long? How does it tie into the apocalypse? I still don’t know guys. I still don’t know.

5. How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence / Michael Pollan

Back in the 1960s, research on LSD was banned thanks to a moral panic. But today, scientists and therapists are starting to study its uses again. Pollan takes a deep dive into the future of LSD, psilocybin (certain mushrooms, and if I remember correctly, a substance that a certain toad secretes?!) and DMT, taking various trips himself with the help of trained guides. His vivid descriptions of each trip were the highlight of the book, and I find myself, someone who has never tried anything other than pot, wanting to try microdosing in the future.

6. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine / Gail Honeyman

The first of two contrarian reviews this year, I really didn’t like this book. I found Eleanor’s character and quirks completely unbelievable, and even discovered a little hole in the plot demonstrating that she can’t be as out of touch with pop culture as Honeyman claims she is (which I can’t reveal to you because it’s also a spoiler). I think my issue is that as far as I know, the author is not neurodivergent, whereas Eleanor is. I think this does a real disservice to readers, and would much prefer to read something like this by a neurodivergent author.

7. The Story of the Lost Child / Elena Ferrante

I finally finished the Neapolitan Quartet series! The fourth and final book finds Elena and Lila in their thirties and follows them until they’re in their sixties as they navigate professional successes and failures, new aspects of motherhood, relationship woes, and a fraying friendship. The dynamics of the friendship at the core of this series speak to me so deeply and captures so much about the passion, tension, tenderness, and competition that lurk within a longtime platonic relationship.

8. The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle / Stuart Turton

Dare I describe this as Downton Abbey meets Black Mirror? Aidan Bishop wakes up on the same date and in the same setting every day (Blackheath Manor on Evelyn Hardcastle’s birthday) but as a different guest or employee each time. Each night, Evelyn Hardcastle is murdered. Aidan quickly learns that his task is to find the murderer, using the different skillsets and vantage points he inherits with each subsequent body. The tension! The twists! The gorgeous setting! I loved this winding, wild novel.

9. You Were Born for This: Astrology for Radical Self-Acceptance / Chani Nicholas

If you are an astrology lover and don’t know who Chani Nicholas is, you’ve been living under a rock! Follow this woman! Her practice and guidance is so inclusive - feminist, anti-racist, anti-transphobic, body positive, and all about how to discover and lean into your gifts and talents while keeping in mind the greater good and working toward a more progressive society.

10. An Ocean of Minutes / Thea Lim

I started reading this dystopian novel about a pandemic right at the start of the pandemic! Maybe not a wise decision, but it didn’t matter, because this book is a beautiful, moving read. In the near future, young couple Polly and Frank find themselves stranded in Galveston, Texas, when a deadly virus begins sweeping across the globe. Frank gets sick, and the only way that Polly can pay for his expensive life-saving treatment is if she signs up as a bonded laborer and travels to the future (yes, time-travel exists!) The couple agree to meet up in 12 years (which will really be just a few short days for Polly). However, Polly is send an extra five years into the future, and Frank is nowhere to be found. The worry I felt! Polly’s loneliness and confusion in the future! Will they find each other again? Oh boy, this was an emotional ride!

11. Where the Crawdads Sing / Delia Owens

The second of my two contrarian reviews this year, I also really disliked this book, which everyone else and their mother seemed to adore? It was bad! The plot felt really contrived, the characters were two-dimensional, and I felt icky about the author’s two Black characters and how the protagonist, Kya, interacted with them. I don’t think Delia is informed enough about the realities of the Black experience, then and now, to responsibly write Black characters. Also, the ‘twist ending’ was a snooze fest. The one redeeming factor was the author’s palpable love of and knowledge about nature. I really did enjoy reading about the coastal habitat and sea life that the Kya loved so much. Oh, what’s this novel about, you ask? It’s a combo coming-of-age / murder mystery set in the 1950s and 60s.

12. The Skin We’re In: A Year of Black Resistance and Power / Desmond Cole

Cole is a Canadian journalist and activist shining a much needed light on racism in this country. In this book, he highlights one incidence of systemic racism in action per month during the year of 2017, focussing on police brutality, harm caused by school boards and educators, the Canada 150 celebrations, and unjust immigration policies. This book packs a punch and Cole’s writing style is really accessible. It’s a great entry point into learning about the realities of racism in Canada.

13. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds / Adrienne Maree Brown

I absolutely loved this book, though I find it hard to pin down. At its core, it encourages us to think more deeply and holistically about nature, social justice, and community. Brown is heavily influenced by Black sci-fi / dystopian master Octavia Butler, specifically Butler’s ideas around “shaping change” while living through change. It’s full of gems of wisdom, like this quote, which is one of my favourites: “Imagination is one of the spoils of colonization, which in many ways is claiming who gets to imagine the future for a given geography.” As Brown also writes about, and which we can really see in this moment, we are currently living through the tail-end of a dying society, imagined by a small few. What could we create together if everyone’s imaginings carried equal weight?

14. From the Ashes: My Story of Being Métis, Homeless, and Finding My Way / Jesse Thistle

Thistle’s emotional and turbulent memoir begins with a loving memory of his time as a little boy at his maternal grandparents’ home. Not long after, his parents moved the family away from their Métis community and Jesse and his two brothers soon end up in the foster care system. This experience, though relatively brief, absolutely traumatized all three of them. Later, they end up living with their paternal grandparents, who love them deeply but are extremely strict, which doesn’t work for Thistle. He hits various rock bottoms, battling with addiction, trauma and homelessness at the intersection of racism. And somehow, he manages to break free of these harmful cycles, go back to school, and become an academic and best-selling author.

15. Policing Black Lives: State Violence in Canada from Slavery to the Present / Robyn Maynard

I would call this a must-read for Canadians. Maynard breaks down exactly how Canada surveils and punishes Blackness despite its claims of inclusivity and tolerance. She explores policing, yes, but also social work, education, immigration, and education and it’s impossible not to see the levers of systemic racism at work everywhere. Fair warning though, this is a more academic text and requires real concentration.

16. Jhumpa Lahiri / Unaccustomed Earth

This collection of short stories (the last being more of a novella) was gripping. I somehow fell in love with almost all of the characters. Lahiri writes people so skillfully. I felt their longing, hope, sorrow, grief, excitement. Most of the tales take place within the Indian community in Cambridge, Massachusetts, but some stories take us further afield. Lahiri picks a key relationship to focus on within each story - daughter/father, sister/brother, two roommates, childhood acquaintances - and lays them out gently under her microscope for us to see in all their intricate complexity.

17. Midnight Sun / Stephenie Meyer

Did you guys know I’m a Twihard? Having read all the Twilight novels (multiple times) way before I started this blog, this may be new information. But I’m a huge, pathetic fan and though I love Jacob, I will always be Team Edward. So OF COURSE I had to read this extremely long-awaited book, which is actually Twilight, but from Edward’s point of view rather than Bella’s. It was genuinely enjoyable, but not filled with nearly enough sexual tension for my liking. And of course, never ever read it unless you are also a Twilight fan.

18. The Sun and Her Flowers / Rupi Kaur

It’s Rupi being Rupi! I legitimately enjoy Rupi’s poetry, but I don’t love it. Some of the pieces really resonate, and others do nothing for me. But I do think she’s an important voice for young women, and specifically young women of colour. So much of her writing is about reclaiming your power, honouring the older generation of women who sacrificed so much and received nothing in return, and learning to love yourself in a society that is constantly trying to hurt you. Her poetry is always an uplifting read.

19. Conscious Creativity: Look, Connect, Create / Philippa Stanton

I’ve been following Philippa on Instagram for years as I adore her flat-lays and domestic foraging arrangements (if you follow me on IG, you may have seen my colour-themed #DomesticForaging homages to her work!) So when she published a book outlining her own creative process (and containing tons of her gorgeous photography), I had to read it. Stanton has included lots of activities meant to light your creative spark and inspire new ways of looking at things. She also writes about her experiences as a synesthete (someone who may “see” music as colours or who may “hear” shapes), which was fascinating. This is a book I’ll certainly go back to when I’m feeling uninspired. Want to follow her on IG? Her handle is @5tfinf.

20. Turkey Trot Murder / Leslie Meier

Guys, this review is the start of something BIG. Brad knows that I love to read books that are “in season” (I don’t want to read a book set in the summer during the winter, etc.). So he bought me this very niche Thanksgiving mystery novel to read in October. It’s alllll fluff, and very much in the “so bad it’s good” category. It also turns out that Leslie Meier may be one of the most prolific authors of all time, and so Brad signed me up to her “book of the month” fan club for my birthday this year, meaning I get a new, seasonally appropriate Meier classic each month. (You should also know that the “book of the month” fan club is entirely made up, and the letters from Leslie are actually written by Brad, and yes, he has designed a logo for the letterhead.)

21. Haunted House Murder / Leslie Meier and Lee Hollis and Barbara Ross

Wait, what? THREE authors? Yes, some of the Leslie Meier classics are actually novellas, so they are combined with novellas by two other authors into these seasonal collections. Also, Lee Hollis isn’t even real. Lee Hollis is in fact TWO PEOPLE, a brother/sister writing duo! So there are four authors involved in this spooky little collection. They all take place in small-town Maine, so yes, the settings are adorable and the plots are terrible.

22. Autumn / Karl Ove Knausgaard

I think I would describe this memoir (?) as a collection of magical noticings. While his wife is pregnant with their fourth baby, Knausgaard starts writing letters to the unborn child, telling them about, well, everything and anything. That project turned into this book, in which the writer observes everyday things like hands, toilets, fog, petrol, and snakes, and finds the beauty and wonder in all of them. Reading this book left me feeling very inspired and wanting to try and develop this skill in myself as I write.

23. The Feather Thief: Beauty, Obsession, and the Natural History Heist of the Century / Kirk Wallace Johnson

Back in 2009, Edwin Rist stole HUNDREDS of dead birds from the British Museum of Natural History. That fact alone is mind-boggling (how?), but it gets wilder. He didn’t steal them for nerdy science reasons, he stole them to sell to the Victorian fly-tying community. Yes, flies as in the things you attach to fish hooks. And no, not flies that will actually be used, but flies that are constructed as a hobby and art form. Wallace Johnson does a great job of conveying Rist’s obsessive passion for fly-tying and the desperation many fly-tiers feel as they try to track down increasingly rare and protected feathers from exotic (or extinct) birds. The author also has a journalist’s nose for sniffing out lies and half-truths and even tracks down Rist himself for a sit-down interview. I was riveted throughout the whole book, which lives at the intersection of history, science, mystery, and psychological deep-dive.

24. Yule Log Murder / Leslie Meier and Lee Hollis and Barbara Ross

The seasonal fluff dream team is back! And yes, a yule log features prominently in each novella. Once as a murder weapon, and once as a suspected murder weapon! These books also feature real recipes, some of which actually look pretty tasty!

25. Empire of Wild / Cherie Dimaline

This was a chilling page-turner and the second novel of Dimaline’s that I’ve read and devoured. She’s quickly become one of my favourite authors. In this story, Joan, a Métis woman living in the Georgian Bay area, is at the tail-end of the worst year of her life. Almost a year ago, her husband Victor disappeared into thin air after a rare argument between the couple, and Joan’s been searching for him ever since. One day, she wanders past a Christian revival tent in a Walmart parking lot, and the minister is the spitting image of Victor. She manages to have a brief conversation with him and it appears he has no memory of her or his prior life. Yet, in her gut, she KNOWS it’s him and resolves to return him to himself (and to her). This slow-burning horror novel weaves in the Métis myth of the Rogarou, a werewolf-ish creature who walks lonely roads looking for victims, to great effect.

26. Eggnog Murder / Leslie Meier and Lee Hollis and Barbara Ross

Another seasonal romp in which this time, the eggnog is the murder weapon in TWO of the stories! TWO PEOPLE IN TWO SEPARATE STORIES DIE FROM DRINKING NUT MILK EGGNOG AND NOT KNOWING IT WAS NUT MILK AND SUFFERING FROM A NUT ALLERGY. Anyways, I actually made one of the included recipes this time - eggnog muffins - and they were truly delicious!

27. Watch Over Me / Nina LaCour

This is a beautiful and haunting (both literally and figuratively) YA novel about the way trauma from our past follows us around, haunting our present. Mila, who’s just aged out of the foster care system, lands what seems to be a perfect job helping to teach younger children at a farm in Northern California. The farm is owned by an older couple who’ve become somewhat famous for taking in dozens of kids from the foster system over the years. Upon arrival, Mila falls in love, but soon starts to notice strange things about the way things are done on the farm, while also suffering from PTSD related to her own childhood traumas. Is there something sinister going on, or could this beautiful, isolated place become the home Mila’s always longed for?

28. Phases / h.duxbury

I started writing poetry again this summer, and quickly found lots of other poets sharing their work on Instagram. @hduxburypoetry (a fellow Ontarian, too!) quickly became one of my favourite accounts to follow, so when i learned that she self-published a poetry collection, I had to grab a copy. Her work is heavily inspired by nature and the changing seasons, which I’m a sucker for, so I really enjoyed it. Her poems also delve into grief, loneliness, love, and growth.

Well, there you have it! As for my 2020 faves, my top three reads were:

Empire of Wild

Unaccustomed Earth

Emergent Strategy

[killthebxy-archive]

GENERAL BACKGROUND

          this verse takes place in modern days. the Stark syndicate operates from the shadows, with the intention to overthrow the corrupt government which has taken over the country for decades (usually, the Targaryens, but this is adaptable to thread). their current leader is Ned Stark (code name: quiet wolf), who has his children undergoing extensive military training for the sake of carrying on the family’s duty and legacy: handling of several types of weapons, hacking of computer systems, physical endurance, pain endurance, battle strategies, how to perform and how to withstand torture methods, etc. Robb (code name: young wolf) and Jon (code name: white wolf) are his most trusted agents, despite their still relatively young age, with Sansa following close behind while Arya, Bran, and Rickon are finishing the common, basic education at school. whereas Robb is mostly responsible for Ned’s direct and close protection, Jon’s main role in the syndicate consists in the creation of fake identities/personas for himself, as to be able to infiltrate any sort of place required. some of his most intricate ones include a celebrity hairstylist, a master chef, and a priest. he is also greatly skilled in hacking computer systems, in self-defense martial arts, in fencing, and has extensive knowledge in the handling of different guns.

          despite having his father’s complete trust and respect, however, one of Jon’s missions eventually goes horribly wrong, with disastrous consequences. under the scheming of Petyr Baelish (code name: littlefinger), Jon was betrayed by his coworkers and his mission was sabotaged, motivated by hunger for power and wish to usurp Ned’s place at the head of the syndicate. outnumbered by agents of the government and forced to retreat, Jon eventually was shot on his right side, a bit above the hipbone. through sheer willpower and determination, he was still able to escape the building but ended up fainting from blood loss soon after, in a deserted alleyway. meanwhile, the plan to murder Ned succeeded and Robb was initially framed for the crime --- and, with all posterior searches proving to be fruitless in finding Jon’s body, the family came to believe him dead as well. 

note: this general background woks in conjunction with @kingwholost ‘s verse [CLICK]

SUBVERSE 1 (main/ default one)

          what in truth happened, however, was that Jon was rescued by civilians, who found his already unconscious body and called an ambulance. given his critical condition, rather than the central hospital, he was rushed to a much smaller and more modest one that existed nearby --- better known as a medical school, which led to him not being found there. post surgery, and for almost a month, Jon was in stage 4 coma and, when finally returning to senses, suffered from generalized retrograde amnesia. the period of time elapsed between the failed mission and the present day is thread dependent, but, overall, the incident caused Jon to completely erase from his memory everything prior to it (including information as basic as his real name, age, or family) --- technically speaking, his episodic and autobiographical memories were severely affected, while the conceptual and procedimental memories remained intact. for a few days, Jon also had to do physiotherapy, as to help his body recover from such a long period of inactivity. in the meanwhile, having no idea about his identity and no place to go, he was allowed to remain at the hospital till sorting out his situation. eventually, a kind family offered to foster him, and, as a sign of appreciation, Jon adopted their name --- being known as Jon Stark, in pre-amnesia, and Jon Snow in post-amnesia.

          with his life more or less stabilized, Jon began looking for clues about his past, only to be met with failure time and time again. somehow, it was as though every single trace of his previous existence had been erased from the planet, including any form of documents or any register of his fingerprints --- all of this related to his life as a spy/ secret agent that he’s now unaware of. on the other hand, although his explicit memory does not recall the training he endured, his body does and, in a crisis situation (e.g., being attacked), it reacts instinctively and, despite his relatively small stature, Jon is very difficult to overcome in a fight. having no clue where such skill comes from, Jon nonetheless decided to capitalize on it and currently works as a bodyguard/ close protection officer. as well, he managed to rent his own apartment.

          personality wise, Jon is introverted and a bit shy in certain aspects, but friendly and always ready to help those in need --- which easily spans beyond his work/ his clients. he keeps a small notebook with him where he writes down the bits and pieces he gradually recalls about his past life, such as his preferences and what he likes or dislikes. he also has the Stark direwolf tattooed on his right hip, close to where the gunshot scar was left, although he cannot remember what is the meaning associated with it. as well, every now and then, there’s the potential for a few people of his past,  not always with harmless intentions, to come looking for him and for the information he gathered during his sabotaged mission, which he was able to salvage despite everything else.

a quick sum-up of details:

default verse age: 22 years (thread dependent);

bisexual & biromantic;

doesn’t smoke and doesn’t drink --- and is actually the literal definition of a lightweight;

is quite short-sighted and wears glasses, though not whilst working for obvious motives --- which makes him rather clumsy and prone to small accidents;

is actually v good at housekeeping and is a bit of a neat freak;

sucks at winking because he cannot blink only one eye at a time.

SUBVERSE 2 (private and requiring previous plotting)

          this is the far angstier twist of this verse’s general background --- where, during the sabotaged mission, Jon was, instead, captured by the government agents and brainwashed/ mind controlled into joining their cause.

PLEASE BE AWARE THAT, FROM HERE ON, THIS TEXT WILL HAVE EXPLICIT CONTENT RELATED TO PHYSICAL/ MENTAL/ EMOTIONAL TORTURE, MANIPULATION, ABUSE, TRAUMA, LOSS OF IDENTITY, PSYCHOSIS, DISSOCIATION, AND SIMILAR THEMES.

          NOTE: the foundation of this subverse is a process of brainwashing/ mind control to the point of breaking down one’s identity and reforge it at another’s will. what we know from scientific evidence is that this process is still debatable --- whether it is real or a different psychological phenomenon, what it takes to happen, consequences, etc. obviously, it is impossible to conduct research to test hypotheses in such a field --- for this reason, i have researched accordingly (shoutout to @timeripe for coming along for the ride) and i have tried to build up this background as realistically and plausibly as possible.

          having been captured, and with the government superiors being well aware of the menace the Stark syndicate presents, they decided to make use of Jon for their own benefit --- as mean to both take advantage of his knowledge of the syndicate and as a way to gain the emotional upper hand, so to speak, considering their intent was now to pitch his own son against Ned. initially, Jon was put through extensive interrogation, though with little success --- since, as i mentioned above, he’s well trained to undergo such situations without submitting. therefore, more drastic measures were authorized, to do whatever necessary to shift Jon’s loyalty towards their own cause. for weeks, he suffered extreme conditions of imprisonment, lack of food and water and light, intense and continued sleep deprivation, and several forms of physical abuse --- all of this as part of stage 1 of the brainwashing protocol, with the intention of breaking his resistance and psychological integrity.

          with this achieved, stage 2 was started --- the stage of implementing false memories into Jon’s mind, with the intention of shattering his trust/ beliefs on his family and upbringing. three main points were essential. first, the extreme physical exhaustion at the end of stage 1, that left Jon much more vulnerable to manipulation. second, the use of Jon’s illegitimate/ adopted nature, to lead him to believe that he never truly belonged with the Starks nor was he wanted/ cherished/ appreciated by them, and was raised simply to be a tool used in their missions --- while, at the same time, portraying the government in a positive light, in the role of saviors. third, the presence of a figure that Jon could grow to trust instead, and who began then caring for him and providing him with everything he lacked during stage 1, thus creating a power relationship based on dependence.

          after these two stages, the main objective was achieved: Jon was broken down to a shell of his former self, now formatted to believe that the Stark family merely used him while the government agents rescued him from such. from this point on, then, he is kept in a maintenance stage to ensure that 1) he has as little contact with non-government related persons, and 2) that the “we are the good guys” message is frequently reinforced. Jon lives currently at one of the government bases, with a select group of individuals, an is only allowed outside during missions. whenever he’s not required, he’s kept sedated to prevent chances of him (accidentally or not) wandering off. around mission times, this process is interrupted and he’s awaken, following through proper physical and technical training as necessary. as well, during these times, he’s put through frequent sessions of hypnosis. in this case, based on the following conceptual knowledge:

Hypnosis is a state of human consciousness involving focused attention and reduced peripheral awareness and an enhanced capacity to respond to suggestion. Altered state theories see hypnosis as an altered state of mind or trance, marked by a level of awareness different from the ordinary conscious state. During hypnosis, a person is said to have heightened focus and concentration. The person can concentrate intensely on a specific thought or memory, while blocking out sources of distraction. Hypnotized subjects are said to show an increased response to suggestions.

          again, the main purpose is to keep Jon focused on the message previously implemented, while reducing his awareness/ attention towards anything else deemed undesirable by the government. this general hypnosis protocol is practiced during “normal” days --- while, around mission times, the focus is on Jon’s skills to carry it out successfully. for this sake, and through classical conditioning, he’s also trained in relevant behaviors prompted by cues --- to balance his reduced awareness provoked by the general protocol. for example, he’s conditioned to pause and tend himself, whenever a wound is inflicted on his body (which, yes, is the logical thing to do anyway --- however, at this point, he’s not doing it because it’s logical, but because he’s been trained for it).

          in this subverse, Jon will only ever be found in one of two situations: either he’s at the government base, going through any of the different stages or already after the brainwashing process is concluded, or he will be found outside during a mission. in this case, there will be potential for him to come across strangers and/or persons he remembers from before. unless your muse is one with very high relevance in his life though, like Robb or Arya, it’s not likely that they will be able to have Jon fully snapping out of it and returning to his former self --- unless it is a thread where he’s taken away from the government for good, and the heavy routines of manipulation/ conditioning/ hypnosis are broken (yet, even so, it will definitely require considerable time).

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

The Misadventures of Prince Kim - chapter 51

51 chapters... I don’t even know anymore. But anyway, Merry Christmas, have a LOT of Kimax fluff.

Also on AO3 as always where you can read this 190k+ word mess from the beginning

Kim, with Max’s help, had finally managed to finish going through all the International Alliance paperwork that could be completed without Queen Sol here for the time being – and just in time for their one month anniversary! Max was already certain that Kim had been secretly planning something for it, despite it being a relatively small milestone. Unexpectedly, however, Kim’s plans for 14th March started off with something that was much more of a surprise.

“Max, you’ve gotta see this,” Alix said, barging into his room and grabbing the remote control to turn on the television.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Yeah, whatever. Look at this – this dork is on TV and he didn’t even tell me until like 10 minutes ago when I asked why there was a TV crew in the main hall!”

She changed the channel to the news, sitting down beside him on the bed where there was a better view. Max looked up at the television to see the vaguely familiar face of one of the news reporters for this region of the continent.

“…and today we have a very special guest star on our show!” the news reporter was saying. “A foreign prince from a faraway country is here to tell us his exciting tale…”

Kim was going to be on TV? He was actually going to be on TV? Max leapt to his feet, a grin spreading over his face.

“This is fantastic! What a great idea! If Kim tells his story to the millions of viewers, they’ll be more sympathetic to his plight and there will be far more pressure on the International Alliance to accept his country – well as long as he doesn’t spill all the details of course, as that would be unwise, but I trust him to know what to–”

Alix shoved a pillow in his face. “Dude, shut up and listen!”

Max put the pillow aside and watched the screen. The reporter – Clara? – was still giving a rather rambling introduction, thought she finally seemed to be winding down. At last, she gestured to the side and announced, “A very warm welcome to our esteemed guest today, His Royal Highness Prince Kim of the distant kingdom of Lê Chiến!”

The camera cut to a wide shot to show that Kim was sitting in the armchair beside Clara’s. His hair was done immaculately, he wore an áo dài almost more dazzling than the one he’d lost in the lacrosse match to Adam, he sat back in the chair with his hands behind his head and one foot stretched out to rest on the little table in front of him, just giving off a sense of being at ease.

“Thank you for that super introduction, Clara. And hello Sahara region, thanks for tuning in!” He looked directly at the camera and winked, shooting a lazy finger gun as he did so.

Max found himself picking up the pillow again and clinging onto it without realizing. He had always found television appearances stressful, with so many things that could go wrong, so many ways for millions of people to get the wrong impression of you. But Kim didn’t appear to be nervous at all. Perhaps he didn’t quite know the scope of television, how much of an impact it could have… or perhaps he was just a natural at this.

“So, let’s get started with what the people want to know most,” Clara was saying now. “What’s keeping you away from home? Why so often do you visit other countries during your holidays from boarding school? There are suspicions that perhaps you don’t like your kingdom back home very much and prefer more tech-advanced nations – is this true?”

“My kingdom is awesome, actually. After all, I’m the one who’s gonna be running it someday, right?” He flashed a charming smile at the camera again. “But you’re right about me loving tech. Television? Aeroplanes? Portable phones? Modern automobiles? You bet I’ll be implementing that in my own kingdom as soon as I can.”

“Technology certainly is a wonder! But if that isn’t the reason that you haven’t returned home in such a long time, then what is?”

“Unfortunately it isn’t safe. There have been issues at the borders for way too long now, and as much as I want to go back, I can’t. Not that anyone would let me try – no one wants to see me in danger.” He ran a hand through his hair, which sprung right back into perfect formation as soon as his fingers had left it.

“So it’s an issue of security, I see. Any chances that will be fixed soon?”

“No idea. But hey – if anyone out there invents the teleporter, be sure to let me have a go with it and get back home in one piece!”

Every time Kim glanced at the camera with that charismatic smile of his, raising a playful eyebrow, or letting his teeth catch a glint of the light… oh, he knew what he was doing. He knew how attractive he was and he was using it. There was no way the viewers wouldn’t love this cheeky, handsome little prince who just needed a hand getting back home – and he was doing it on purpose!

Max rested his head on the pillow he was still clutching and just stared. Usually Kim would be a little too flustered to act quite so smooth with him, which was cute in its own right, but now Max could not tear his eyes away from Kim’s flawless responses, the confidence, the charisma, the beauty of it all. His sweetheart was a star.

The more political questions had ended now, and Clara began asking more about Kim as a person. This was right in his element – showing off about his athletic capabilities, how quick a runner he was, even mentioning that if his áo dài didn’t have sleeves then he would have flexed his arms for all those viewers who he knew were itching to see it.

“Wow, you really are quite something!” Clara said. “All the ladies in your kingdom must be quite taken with you.”

Kim chuckled. “Who isn’t?”

“So, does a handsome young man like you have a sweetheart?”

“Would I tell you if I did?”

“Only if it wasn’t a commoner!”

Or if it wasn’t a boy, Max thought to himself. While Kim did not keep his relationship with Max a secret while at school, where everyone already knew about Juleka and Rose or Chloé and Lila and hardly cared about yet another such couple, mentioning it directly on international television to millions of viewers was something else entirely.

“So how do you decide which countries you stay in during the holidays?” Clara asked now.

“Oh, well, it depends really. At school I made best friends with Alix – yeah that’s right, my best friend is Pharaoh Alix, and also her pet snake, so she lets me stay here whenever I need to. And Princess Marinette has been a close childhood friend of mine for many years now, so I’m allowed to visit her kingdom too. And as for Prince Max…”

Max’s heart skipped a beat. It seemed so odd to hear himself being talked about on TV by Kim of all people.

“…we’re very close. He keeps me company in the holidays, which I really appreciate. He’s a very sweet friend.”

Sweet friend? Max wanted to laugh. That was such an obvious way of putting it, and poor Kim had no idea he’d even done that. No doubt, by tomorrow everyone would have come to their own conclusions about what “sweet friend” really meant – and hopefully not disapproving!

“That’s very nice to hear!” Clara said, a surprisingly genuine smile on her face. “Prince Max is well-loved by his people for his wise, gentle ways. I’m sure they’re delighted to find out how close the two of you are, despite your differing kingdoms and personalities.”

That much was probably true. Max did indeed have a rather high approval rating back in his own country, and now that some of those citizens would be watching this interview, Kim’s popularity would probably begin rising too if his good looks and personality hadn’t already helped with that.

Oh Kim, he was always just so sweet!

The rest of the interview carried on without anything especially remarkable. Max was simply content to watch – maybe it was silly, maybe self-indulgent, but he really liked seeing Kim being so enchanting, practically flirting with the camera, really putting on the charms. All those winks, the finger guns, the cocky smile, the hand he ruffled through his pointy tuft of hair, the occasional blown kiss…

And it ended before he knew it. How long had that interview lasted? Max was rather bad at keeping track of time whenever Kim was involved, for some reason. But now Clara had said goodbye and moved onto the next news section.

“So how was that?” Alix asked, switching off the television again and poking Max in the arm. “Did he mess up on anything?”

Max sighed, still staring at the empty screen. “No. He was perfect.”

“Damn right he was. He called me his best friend! On international telly! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah…”

“And he seemed to answer all the politics questions really well, though I’m probably not the best person to judge that. Right?”

“Mhm…”

She poked him again. “You’re not listening, are you?”

“Um, well, I was just–”

“Daydreaming about doing some scientific research with Kim, yeah, I know.”

Max could feel his face warming up. “I’m sorry. It’s just that today, 14th March, marks a whole month since Kim and I got together, and the thought is rather distracting.”

“A month, only? Feels like it’s been way longer than that already.”

“It’s the opposite for me.” Max leaned on the pillow again, his mind flowing with memories. “It feels like it’s flown by.”

“Well, if it really has been a month, then I guess you should go find Kim and–”

The door was suddenly flung open and Kim stood there, leaning over to catch his breath.

“Kim!” Max jumped up off the bed and threw the pillow aside. “We just watched your interview!”

“Awesome!” Kim said. “I literally just finished it, ran all the way here.”

“But why–”

Before Max could say another word, Kim had already crossed the room and scooped Max up into his arms. “Happy one month anniversary! I had to rush over here to hang out with you!”

Oh, that was just so sweet! Max put his arms around Kim’s neck and leaned into his chest, feeling right at home there like he always did these days. “Happy one month anniversary to you too, Kim. Though the word ‘anniversary’ really only applies to yearly celebrations, because of the prefix, which comes from the Latin… oh, never mind. We can call it an anniversary.”

“You’re so smart,” Kim whispered into his hair, holding him so close it was practically a hug. “And so cute. And the nicest person ever. I love you so much, you know that, right?”

“Can you guys go be mushy somewhere else?” Alix said, sounding bored. “Or I’ll leave if you want. Either’s fine.”

Kim put Max down, settling for holding his hand instead. “No, it’s alright, I have somewhere to take Max anyway. Somewhere super cool. Come on, sweetie! Let’s go!”

He ran off without even waiting for a reply, and Max let himself be pulled along by his adorable, hyperactive sweetheart. Most of the servants in the corridors didn’t care at this point – they probably all knew that Kim and Max were a couple anyway. Max wondered how long the rumours would take to get back to his kingdom, probably accelerated by the interview today.

Would it be worth it to publicly come out?

Well, that wasn’t something he needed to think about right now. At this moment, all that mattered was whatever Kim had planned for him.

They went up the swirling staircase in the centre of the north wing tower, all the way to the top, so tall that Max had to stop a few times to rest. Finally they made it and went through the door out onto the roof at the top.

Max had only been up here once before, several years ago, when he was visiting this kingdom with his parents, and Alix had sneaked out of a boring meeting with him and Nino – who had still been called “Nina” back then – and brought them up here to hide. It still looked the same, really. A view of the palace below them, with desert and mansions stretching off into the distance in one direction, and the city in the other.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Kim said, holding Max’s hand a little tighter as he leaned against the railings.

“It really is a stunning view.”

“But you know what’s even better? This!”

From out of his pockets Kim pulled a little piece of card and handed it to Max. On closer inspection it was not a card but a photograph. A photograph of Max.

“Remember this?” Kim continued, now putting an arm around him. “Last holidays I took this picture of you and it turned out really awesome! Well I want you to have it.”

“That’s very sweet, but you’re the one who took this photo, so perhaps you should be the one to keep it.”

“I already have a copy. One of the servants taught me how to use the photocopier, so I can have as many pictures of the cutest person in the world whenever I want.”

Cutest person in the world! Max was sure his heart was going to burst. Kim was always saying such lovely things to him all the time, how did he even do it? Did he know what an effect it had?

“And I got you flowers too,” Kim said, blushing slightly. “Not with me, but I’ll give them to you later. Actually now that I think about it, I probably should have gone to my room first and got those, rather than going straight to your room, but I just really wanted to see you…”

“You don’t need to give me flowers, it’s alright!”

“But I want to. You deserve it.”

“So anyway, about that interview!” Max said quickly, aware that he was rapidly becoming very flustered. “When did you even organize it?”

“Oh, that! I literally just thought about it last night. I realized doing a TV interview would make me look really cool and then everyone would like me and let my country in the International Alliance. So I went and asked Jalil, ‘cause he’s organized and knows about all this stuff, and he called the news crew and they happily agreed to interview me on short notice since I’m a prince and everything.”

“That was a very good idea, I must say.”

Kim ran his free hand through his hair, the action somehow looking even more attractive than usual considering he was still wearing that new áo dài, leaning back against the railings, the sun lighting up his face. “Thanks! So um… how was the interview? Did I do okay?”

“You were amazing!” Max turned to stand directly in front of Kim and took both his hands in his own. “Your answers to all the questions were absolutely spot on. And your demeanour in general was very…”

“Likeable?”

Hot was actually the word he had been thinking of, but he just nodded. “Yes. You were very likeable.”

“Awesome!”

“I’m sure the people of the region must love you. We’ll wait to read about it in tomorrow’s newspapers, I suppose. And…” Max looked down, smiling. “We’ll get to read about what everyone thinks of the phrase ‘sweet friend’.”

“Oh, that!” Kim’s voice had a note of uncertainty in it now. “Listen, I just – I didn’t know whether or not I should tell anyone about, like, us I guess! I mean, I wanted to, but I thought what if that’s a weird thing to say on TV? What if you get deposed or something? So I just said you were my friend and I hope that’s okay!”

“Of course that’s okay!”

“Thank goodness! And for the record, I still meant it, okay?” Kim gently held Max’s face in his hands, looking right in his eyes, his voice softening now. “You’re still my best friend. You can be both my sweetheart and my best friend at the same time, right?”

For a few seconds Max just stared up at him, unable to say a word. Kim’s face was very close to his own, and it was making him dizzy. Surely he should be used to it by now? It had been a month already! But no, his brain still took several seconds to process the fact that Kim was only a few centimetres away, and knowing him, was about to get even closer.

“Certainly,” Max managed to say finally. He willed his brain to work enough to say something else too, because Kim liked listening to him speak, didn’t he? “In fact, I would say that’s ideal. Anyone who is considered a sweetheart should be close enough to be a best friend too.”

“Yeah, you’re right. No wonder Chloé turned me down ages ago. I’d met her like twice.” Kim laughed and shook his head. “I was such an idiot back then. But I hope I’m better now. And hopefully the countries in the International Alliance think so.”

“I’m sure they do. How could they not? You’re wonderful!”

Gushing did not come as naturally to Max as it seemed to for Kim, but he made an effort now all the same. It was worth it to see the sparkle in Kim’s eyes, the lovestruck smile, the blushy glow on his cheeks, knowing he had made his sweetheart happy. And plus, it was true! Kim really was wonderful.

“I can’t argue with that,” Kim said, winking, before pulling Max’s face closer and kissing the tip of his nose. “So. What else should we do today, on our one month anniversary? I was thinking maybe a trip to the museum or something! You like museums, don’t you? It would be fun! And the city tower has a restaurant on the top floor so I could take you there in the evening for dinner and we could watch the sunset. And then we could come back and watch a movie or something. What do you think?”

A date that lasted the entire day? That was so sweet, it was almost too much! Max just buried his face in Kim’s chest, grinning stupidly. “That sounds very romantic…”

He felt Kim’s arms wrap around him. “Of course! Only the best for you. And let me know if you want anything else.”

“No, it sounds perfect.”

“Awesome! There’s only one problem, though. According to Alix, there’ll be paparazzi at the museum and probably the tower too, like there always is when we go into the city, so um… no kissing while we’re there.”

“Understandable.”

“So then maybe we should just…” Kim put a finger under Max’s chin and lifted his face back up to look at him. “…kiss now instead?”

That was the thing – Kim was always just so polite about it, always asking Max for kisses, so hesitant about it in a way that he never was about anything else. All it did was make Max fall even further in love with him. Not only was Kim a star, Kim was a star who was all his. And no amount of interviews or commoner admirers could ever change that.

Max went up on his tiptoes and leaned forwards, closing his eyes, putting his hands on Kim’s shoulders, half tempted to just take his glasses off just so this could be a little closer and last a little longer–

“Oh come on!”

They sprung apart and turned towards the doorway to see Alix standing there, a hang-glider strapped to her back and a helmet on her head, a very unimpressed expression on her face.

“What are you doing here?” Kim snapped.

“Hang-gliding, duh!”

“Well can you leave?”

“What? Why can’t you leave? I can’t hang-glide from anywhere else, whereas you two can easily go make out in one of your rooms, in fact, you can even do this magical thing there called locking the door so that no one can accidentally walk in on you–”

“But that’s not very romantic!”

“Kim, it’s alright,” Max said, trying not to laugh. “I know one of the guest rooms has a balcony, which I’m sure is very romantic too. We can have palace dates there and Alix can be sure to avoid it.”

“Okay, I guess…”

“Thanks,” Alix said. “And by the way, happy one month anniversary. I hope you guys have a great day.”

“Aww, thank you! We–”

“Now get out of my way. I have to go jump off this tower.”

Kim took Max’s hand again and together they went back down the tower steps, leaving Alix in peace to go illegally hang-gliding up at the top.

A date in the city… this was going to be so much fun. Maybe it wouldn’t feel particularly different from the rest of the times they spent together, or wouldn’t feel different from when they used to do similar things in the context of friendship. Especially when the paparazzi would probably be watching their every move.

But did that matter? What mattered was that Max was going to spend the whole day having fun with Kim, his sweetheart, and it was going to be wonderful.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 19. The Ainsworth Project

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M - slight trigger warning.

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Okay, so this is the second to last chapter, guys. The last will be half the size of the norm, if that. Eeeppp. Thank you for reading.

Tags:  @iammarylastar  @badassbaker @pathybo@mimigemrose@frecklefaceb  @beltz2016  @ariwolff14 @lauraaan182 @kenzieam @tigpooh67@elaacreditava@equalstrashflavoredtrash@murmelinchen @feminamortem

Eric reads through the status report of the conditions of the Mess Hall. It's not an important job, nor urgent, but it still needs to be done. Now that they are back at Dauntless for the time being, he takes the opportunity to delete tedious tasks.

That is why he sits up against the headboard of his bed, one leg thrown out of the sheets as he smiles to the paper, wondering what Abbey's getting up to. He can't concentrate.

"Whatever the fuck you're doing down there, stop." He can just see the top of Abbey's head appear from the end of the bed as she tries to keep low, grunting as she does.

One line on the report annoys him more than the rest. "The seating arrangement?" he says exasperatedly. "A suggestion to rearrange the seating arrangement in the Mess Hall… Can you believe this shit?" He flicks the paper agitatedly and also annoyed Abbey still hasn't joined him back at his side.

Slowly she begins rising from the floor, a stern look on her face, dressed in his jacket. "Can you believe this shit!" she tries to mock his voice, failing miserably.

"What the…" Eric loses his trail of thought completely. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What are you doing, initiate?" She begins smiling, but it soon drops when his face doesn't change and she shrugs almost apologetically. "C'mon, it's funny. I'm being you."

"Well, that wasn't obvious."

Abbey grabs the opening to his jacket, pulling it further open to expose her breasts to him. "Oops." She turns around, flashing her ass from underneath it. "Oops. I guess Eric didn't put on his underwear tod-"

Eric's fast, jumping up to grab the back of his jacket and pull her down. "It's disturbingly pleasant," he hisses. "Stop it."

"You like it." She bites her lip, staring up at him from her wrong-way, upside-down angle. She looks goofy like this. "Admit it that it thrills you."

Eric rolls his eyes as he sits back in the same position as before, picking up the papers. "Go play dolls or something." He huffs when she begins straddling him, still wearing his jacket. "Abbey-"

"Play with me." His eyes flicker up past the sheets in his hand, trying to keep his cool. He's read the same line twice. "This little free hand here…" She takes it, manipulating his fingers to move down the inside of her leg. Eric furiously tries to keep reading. "…likes to keep warm, right, about, there…" She's right, she is delightfully warm and sticky as she presses his fingers to her clit, grinding herself along it until his tips slick across her hole. She pulls his hand back, bringing it up to her mouth, and sucks on his finger.

Eric loses the will to read. He drops the paper to one side, pulling her down until she's completely horizontal across his lap with her ass sticking up in the air. He grabs an ass cheek, pushing his fingers inside her. She arches up, looking up at him through her hair. This thrills him way more than her stupid little games; the control he feels, and her vulnerability.

Abbey's hips begin to jump but he pushes heavily down on her lower back to keep her in place, rather enjoying himself and getting carried away with the sounds she's making. He alternates between fast and slow, sometimes pulling his fingers completely out and palming her. With his own burning arousal pricking up painfully against her body across him, he loses the will to not fuck her.

Eric rolls her off and she begins opening her mouth to complain until he looms over her from behind, ripping the jacket frantically from her body in an utter state of emergency. Her legs part, the plump ass arching back up for him. The first thrust into an anticipating pussy was always the most satisfying. She mewls, and he shuts her up by pushing her head into the covers, using her hair to yank it back up. She begins giggling. "Fuck you," he tells her. "I have work to do."

"You're a busy man." With Eric's lips running across her shoulder blades at his set rhythm, it begins slowing to something far more loving. She can hear his breath leisurely change to a pleasant groan, a hand snaking around her to grab her breast. They weren't playing or just fucking, he was making love to her now – heavy-handed love, and she relished in it, in the same way he worshiped her body.

An eternity would never be long enough with him. Abbey smiles on the thought briefly, then lets her mind go, giving herself to him.

Max watches Eric and Abbey approach, hand in hand, in a humorous conversation by the looks of things as she swings their arms, her head falling back in laughter. Eric only acknowledges his waiting presence outside the Mess Hall when they get within a few feet.

"Hey, Maxy."

Max just frowns at Abbey, glancing at Eric in an unsaid 'Can we talk alone?' and a half 'What the fuck?'

"Hey, Ab's, why don't you go in ahead and I'll catch you up. I got some stuff to run through with… Maxy." Eric smirks at him.

"Sure. But I have to say, you look really well, Max." Max can't help but lift his cheeks as she gives him a blossoming smile before leaving him and Eric alone.

When she's entered the Mess Hall, Max punches Eric's upper arm. "Maxy?"

"I don't know, old man."

"Listen, I did manage to get some insight on Jeanine like you asked. Apparently, her sister's daughter is diabetic and I can bet that Jeanine has every intention of trying to rectify that, hence her interest. But at the same time, this is Jeanine we're talking about. Fuck knows what goes through her mind."

Eric scoffs to himself. "Seems like everyone around here has got hidden weaknesses." His tone is almost suggestive about what he and Abbey saw back at the barn. He still hadn't mentioned it yet. It really wasn't that much of a surprise. But Johanna… Oh, Johanna, he was going to make her sweat.

Max's eyes narrow only slightly. "Yeah, seems it. You still going to Erudite… without Abbey?"

Eric purses his lips, looking back to the Mess Hall doors as he shifts closer, lowering his voice. "I was going to go and kick up a shit storm. But, for once in my life, I don't want to lie… not to Abbey. If I go there and don't tell her and she finds out…"

"She'll think you'll be sabotaging," Max nods in understanding. "It's a sensitive issue, man. I wish I was wise to give you something useful, but I'm not."

"I know Jeanine is going to try and class Abbey as Divergent. She just fed her a bunch of lies about disproving it so she gets what she wants and then has something over me."

"I wouldn't worry about that. You have plenty of people here who would stand up and testify the obvious that she ain't." Max puts a hand on Eric's shoulder, motioning for them to go into the Mess Hall.

"Makes you think though, doesn't it?" Eric suddenly states, confliction etching onto his face. "What if everything we've known is wrong?"

"This is deep, man."

"What if there were people exactly like Abbey and I killed them?"

"You have to learn to live with the blood on your hands." Max shrugs, "I have."

Eric gnaws his cheek, not saying anymore as they share a small moment wordlessly. Eventually, he gives up the brain ache and follows Max into the Mess Hall. Abbey's sitting with Lauren, talking between themselves and he sits down next to her, watching as Abbey attentively listens to Lauren giving a complete rundown of Luka's embarrassing behavior. They eat together relatively content and then leave as a group.

"You're a bastard, you know," Lauren thumps Eric's arm. "I could have done without Mess Hall inquiries."

Abbey begins smiling, talking as if she was to a child. "Did you pass that to Lauren?"She implicates him completely.

"It might've fallen out of my folder when strolling by your office at some point today." His eyes glint mischievously.

"Well, no more accidental on purpose work. I got old shit I'm still covering from the wall. That's where half my afternoon is going." Lauren rolls her eyes.

"Are you telling me what to-"

Lauren interrupts him, shifting attitude into her hip. "Damn right, I'm telling you…" Everything on her drops as she glances over his shoulder. "Erm…"

Abbey's wandered over to a woman and small girl of possibly five or six. She's crouched down to the girl's level and it looks like she has been crying as she rubs her eyes and nods to something Abbey says. When Eric gets there, the little girl shrinks away.

"Oh no, don't be afraid. This is Eric. He is my husband." The little girl thinks over what Abbey said. Eventually, she steps forward and twirls a piece of Abbey's hair in her hand. "What is your name?"

"Sum-mer."

"You are very pretty, Summer." Abbey peers up to the woman standing next to her. "Just like your Mommy."

The lady scoffs. "I'm not her mother."

"Oh, sorry."

"Summer doesn't have parent's." The bluntness of her approach to the subject shocks Abbey to stand. "She's been orphaned for a few years now."

"Does she stay with you?" Abbey asks, feeling Eric touch her waist gently from behind her.

"No, at the small institution for children in similar circumstances like Summer. We have about a hundred children at the moment between newborn to ten, then from there they board at the education center."

"That's terrible. At Amity, the children join other families."

The lady laughs. "We are not Amity. Our influx varies year to year, depending if some of the mothers would like their children back after certain positions."

"I-I don't understand."

"Children aren't convenient."

Abbey's almost speechless. "I… I was told population is key. How can they be inconvenient?" She looks at Eric accusingly as if he already knew this. But he knew nothing and keeps his face passive.

"Maybe to the other factions. Especially to Amity. But here in Dauntless, we are a warrior faction. This is what people choose when they join this faction. They risk their lives… and sometimes those people don't come home. Other instances would be unwanted children. Life moves fast here."

"How can you…" Abbey peers down to the little girl's face. "How can you say that in front of her?"

"Summer already knows her parents are not coming back for her. Most of the children know the deal."

Abbey frowns harshly. "The deal?" Eric places a hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her back. "Please, don't tell me you know anything about this, Eric."

"I don't have the faintest. It's not something I deal with. And it's time we left so they can get on, Abbey." As he pulls her away, Abbey looks longingly over her shoulder, the same time the little girl does before they disappear down one of the countless Dauntless tunnels.

Abbey's not the same for a few days after. Eric notices the considerate expression whenever she thought she wasn't being watched; her eyebrows pulled together and the way her top lip would ever so slightly pout further than the bottom when she was really lost.

Abbey sent off a sample of blood works to Erudite under one of Eric's conditions that he didn't want Jeanine's poison messing with her mind again. Her protection laid in Dauntless. She was better here with him. But when she doesn't find the humor in him pulling out her ponytail one night, he begins to feel dejected.

She hadn't even slept with him since.

"Ab's, why don't you come to the training room with me tonight?" he suggests, kind of missing her stupid and sometimes irritating company.

"No thanks. I'm just going to take a shower and go to bed in a bit." Eric doesn't bother pestering or asking again, only double-taking on his hoodie swamping her frame and the way she knots her hair in some sort of bun on her head.

He knows though, when she's ready, she'll talk.

A week passes. Eric comes home to Abbey lying on the bed with a book in hand, and he throws down a blue folder next to her.

"What's this?" Her name is on the front when she turns it over and she peers between it and Eric for a moment.

"Your results." Eric stands in the same position, waiting patiently. He didn't know how she was going to react having been so quiet lately and seemingly troubled. It actually made his heart flutter slightly with nerves and his palms feeling sticky.

"Did you… read it?" She tilts her head. "Or is that a silly question?"

Eric sits on the bed next to her, sighing as he does. "Ab's, listen-"

Abbey scoffs, "It didn't work, did it?" She picks at her hoodie, pulling the strings on the front tighter, shaking her head disappointedly.

"In basic terms, the serums do work on you but your body flushes it from your system much faster than an average person before letting any of its productive effects take place. The same reaction your body has to medications and… other imbalances. But it can't cure, not genetic or natural illnesses." He reaches over and cups her face, leaning to kiss her quickly, feeling the small tremble within her lips. "You're a first. Maybe that would explain your extreme hangovers…" Eric smiles at her. "And if it makes you feel better, you're still special to me." His tone is playful, trying to lighten the mood.

"So, does this make me Divergent?"

Eric sighs. "Jeanine will think so."

Abbey stands up from the bed, moving towards the window while hugging her arms to herself. "You want to shoot me now or later?"

"That's just Jeanine, Ab's. There's confliction because your effects can be temporarily passed on, unlike Divergents… It's not even in the same league."

"I was valuable to her when she thought that I'd be able to help her find stupid cures. Now I'm not, I'm labeled as something that could have me killed."

"Nobody is going to touch you," Eric tries to comfort her, walking up slowly behind her as she turns towards him.

"I guess that means I can forget Jeanine helping us?" Eric looks to the ground under her scrutiny. "Good."

A frown begins forming along Eric's brows and he studies her quickly, completely confused. "You've lost me, Ab's."

"I understand now. I believe, Eric."

Eric thinks she's suddenly lost her mind. "If this is going to be some Amity bullshit-"

"Just listen." She takes his hands, leading him back towards the bed and the book she was studying, along with a notepad he'd overlooked. "Everything that has happened, has led me back here. I'm fighting nature, nature who is trying to point me towards something. And I believe I've found it."

"So, this is what you've been up to."

"Not at first, I couldn't think straight after that awful woman and Summer. And then it dawned on me. I've been studying the effects of long-term damage of parentless children…" As she talks, Eric watches her face light up, the way her features come to life, the flutter of her eyelashes as she skims through her notes. "The damage is lasting, creating significant problems through teens making most not follow their aptitude test and staying on at Dauntless regardless of what it says… Half of which these problems pass onto adulthood, creating a whole circle of reoccurring events of unstable homes… And this is just Dauntless alone."

"That's life," Eric says bluntly.

"No, baby, it's not." Abbey stands while shaking her head, beginning to pace in front of him. "My whole life in Amity I've nourished. I'm a florist. It's what I do. I've been granted an issue that affects me having my own children. I bump into you, two weeks before I'm due to marry someone else. I end up marrying you and being here at Dauntless. It's-"

"Fate," Eric mumbles.

"What?"

"Just something I thought of." Eric tries to brush it off.

"And then you ask me to rethink my job role so I can be at Dauntless." She hits the side of her hand against her other palm, sitting back down next to him almost breathless. "I know what I want to do."

"Abbey, have you really thought long enough over this? This isn't an 'in the moment' thing?"

"No, Eric. I'm one hundred percent certain." She takes his hand in hers. "Here's me saying I will never have any children of my own, but the fact is, the more I can help here, the more I affect their lives positively, the more children I've given my heart to is more than I can give to any single child alone. To me, that's being a mother."

"Careful, your Erudite is showing."

Abbey's nose scrunches up. "Did you know Johanna originated from Dauntless?"

Eric shakes his head, snorting. "You got all this information from Max." But to be fair, he had guessed her origin before just from the small flame the old wench held.

"He's a retired leader. He knew more than you because he was one of those children."

Eric kicks his boots off, scooting further onto the bed to lie back. "Tell me everything." As she begins her run-down, Eric pulls out his phone while she's deep in her explanation, texting Four his already typed message.

'Printouts of all Abbey's medical records brought to me. Wipe all knowledge and block Erudite from accessing Abbey's files.' Better safe than sorry.

The Mess Hall is a rambunctious place at the best of times but filled with Eric and Abbey and their friends placed around them, it makes it a hundred times worse.

"Eric just kicked my ass for ten weeks. I was sure he absolutely despised the ground I walked on," Luka explains.

"Erm, he did," Lauren begins laughing as Luka throws lettuce at her, nudging Eric who smiles to himself.

"Still do."

"Ah, c'mon, after everything I've done for you?" Luka holds his hands out wide at Eric's provoking.

Abbey stops eating, resting on her arm and speaks politely. "So how did you reverse this unexplained hatred?" Only for a second Abbey catches Eric's eye, her gentle smile warm as she played along.

"I told him the best joke ever, half way between him scolding me at ever approaching him and Lauren. By the way, Lauren liked me at this point."

Lauren shrugs at everyone, focussing on Abbey for the emphasis. "He could down a shot."

"Eric was the touchy one…" Luka's still talking as a Dauntless guard rushes into the Mess Hall, locating Eric quickly.

Abbey is pulled from the conversation just by the urgency and the sudden furious look flashing on Eric's face as he glances at her. He stands abruptly, the same as Lauren and the others like they all knew the drill, and they follow Eric out.

It seems the rest of Dauntless also wanted to see what was going on, The Pit dropping deadly quiet, and Abbey only picks up pieces of the conversation Eric has already jumped full ship on. "Who let you in? Why are you here?" she hears him ask. She can barely hear Jeanine's voice while pushing through the bodies, eventually catching up with Lauren and the thick-skulled twins on the edge of the man-made crowd that's gathered.

Jeanine addresses the crowd, a small group of her own guards standing around her. "I have a request for an arrest under the circumstances of possible Divergence."

Abbey steps forward even though Lauren tries to stop her. "Abbey, wait!" But she's too quick and Jeanine's eyes latch onto her instantly.

"The tests, that I volunteered for, prove the serums work on me, I just can't tolerate them. You're confusing the attributes of Divergence." Eventually, she comes to stand beside Eric while he sighs, obviously wishing she stayed hidden. But she had had enough of hiding. "You want me for nothing more than to experiment on, on an already outlandish hope you can cure your niece, and that has already been proved that I can't. So, the next viable thing to do is kill what you don't know." Abbey puts her hand in Eric's, speaking more to him than anything now. "We don't do that anymore."

Jeanine's face drops. "Perhaps you might want to put a leash on your little lapdog, Eric. She's showing you up." She looks to the tip of his boot and back, but he doesn't move, and she shifts uneasily in his threatening silence. Dauntless watch her with hungry eyes.

Taking an exaggerated inhale of breath, Eric pouts at Jeanine. "You know, I don't know how much clearer I can make things to you. As if my blatant ignorance wasn't enough, or the fact I haven't replied to any of your exponential reports for weeks, what's it going to take for you to realize that Dauntless don't take orders from Erudite."

"You're infringing on the laws, Eric. You will lose your position for deliberately disregarding the rules, especially to a member of authority like myself."

Eric smirks dangerously at Jeanine. "I'm infringing on nothing. This arrest is for an inaptly selfish reason, proved by your own studies that she isn't Divergent."

"The arrest still stands. And you can say goodbye to Leadership should you defy me further."

Eric kisses his teeth. "You see, that threat doesn't sit well with me. In fact, your entire presence in front of me, accusing my wife, in front of my faction, standing there like you have every right to, doesn't sit well with me, at all."

"Try and intimidate me all you like, but she's under arrest until we've completed our investigation," Jeanine says smugly. "A bunch of bloods is far from the real thing. I need a full body exam. And also without the threat of the details being blocked, Eric."

"You are such a liar!" Abbey's words echo, expressed simply but innocently, and Eric puts his arm out to push her back. "She gave false hope. She told me herself she didn't think I was. Why? Why are you doing this?"

"You are a threat to society. We don't fully understand what this is or what this means. You are dangerous." Jeanine turns to the Dauntless watching. "We let one slip through and this is what happens. Anarchy."

"Cut your bullshit, Jeanine," Eric spits. "She isn't going anywhere. Now show yourselves out before I kick you out myself."

"If she wasn't a pretty face, able to hop into your bed, would we be right here, right now? Or would she already be long dead the moment you found out?" Jeanine brings up an electronic pad, beginning to skim through it idly. "Perhaps we should just wait until you get bored." She tilts her head mockingly, eyes still glued to the device in her hand. "You and I both know your bloodline is going to end with her and your patience is thin."

Eric sees Abbey step forward, but Jeanine doesn't. She lands a perfect fist to Jeanine's nose, everything she knew taught by Eric himself. His grin only widens while he crosses his arms, even when her guards raise their weapons and the Dauntless raise theirs in return. It's a total showdown, but Eric's more fascinated at the ferocity of Abbey. It must have hurt, she hides it well.

Jeanine pants in shock as drops of her blood leave her nose, staining her white blouse between her jacket, dripping to the points of her stilettos. "You incessant little bitch!"

"That is for preying on people's weaknesses!"

"I've ordered for you to arrest her! Arrest her, now!" Jeanine points to Abbey hysterically, but nobody moves. Somebody laughs. Eric guessed it was Luka. "I'll arrest her myself!" Jeanine grabs Abbey's wrist, pulling her forward. This was probably her sense of pride taking over her logic, a little trait him and Abbey still shared even now from their Erudite days.

Jeanine doesn't get to pull her far, Abbey throws back her arm, releasing her hold and making Jeanine stumble. "You are the one who is dangerous!" Abbey tells her sternly.

"Give it up, Jeanine. Your showcase of power ends here. And I think it's about time you scampered back to Erudite." Eric tries in vain to hide his humor.

"You'll regret this."

Regret. The cataclysmic bunch of words Eric held deep within him that played fruitfully through his vast relationship with Abbey. But this time, it was different. He wasn't going to regret anything. They knew the truth. He knew Jeanine just wanted leverage over him, her theatrics in Dauntless only to try and gain back something she lost from Dauntless months ago when they hid away and complained when the factionless was so close to shattering Dauntless. Maybe she would've even rejoiced it now if that did happen by the look on her face.

"Oh, I don't think I will." He directs a sharp glare to her guards. "Put your Dauntless assembled guns down, or be shot." Then he's back on Jeanine, a glint of utter repugnance slipping across his smile. "Take your briefly trained Dauntless guards back to Erudite. Read through your notes on divergence to remind yourself. And prepare for a long and lengthy debate on whether Dauntless will ever be prepared to cooperate with Erudite again. We will be waiting with anticipation for our monthly medical supplies as arranged, and if you shall falter, don't think we won't take what we need. After all, we are the muscle of this society."

"Are you… are you threatening me?" Jeanine asks incredulously.

"I think you have forgotten who you are talking to. I am Eric Coulter. The leader of the Warrior faction. The leader of Dauntless. And she…" he looks to Abbey. "Is my wife. Write that in your fucking notes." He snaps from the calm façade, grabbing Jeanine's jacket and dragging her across The Pit to the entrance. "You fuck with her, you fuck with me," he hisses only to her. "And that stands for anything related to us. It would be in your best interests to abide by my rules." The doors of the entrance are opened for them, one of the guards saluting Jeanine with a 'Good day, Ma'am.'

"Am I making myself clear?" Eric demands rather than asks as Jeanine clutters outside the doors, regaining her composure, haughtily pulling her jacket back over her shoulders.

Jeanine looks between the multiple faces watching her, every one of them scowling directly at her. She could almost hear the ghostly growl of the faction reverberating in utter loathing of her presence, feeling like the walls of Dauntless were beginning to close in on around her.

But most of all, she notices Abbey come to stand by Eric, crossing her arms with an eyebrow raised in question. Her warm and living supply of antidote to the serums, so close, but now completely untouchable. The work she had tried to conclude on her blood works was now lost. Her new discovery will never be claimed or known. All of those thoughts flashed in front of her eyes, and she blinks them away. After all, she was Erudite, and they were supposed to be smart.

"Yes."

The infirmary nurse wraps Abbey's bruised hand, getting the all clear she hadn't done any major damage. Eric enters the room when the nurse leaves, coming to stand directly in front of her as she sat on the edge of the cot. "Abbey-"

"What Jeanine said, hasn't affected me," she shakes her head with the words, peering down to her lap. "Don't worry."

"That's… that's not quite what I was going to say. I was just wondering if one night you, maybe, wanted to do a few rounds with me? Because that was seriously-"

She thumps him with her good hand. "You are so full of shit."

"My wife hit Jeanine and cracked her face. No man in their right mind wouldn't find that even a little arousing."

"You were great," she smiles up at him, brushing off his advances.

"I was great? She chats shit and threatens to arrest you and I was great? Plus, I'm kind of trying to hit on you under these difficult circumstances if you haven't noticed."

"You always had great timing. And your attempts are terrible. I noticed but didn't want to encourage." She grins up at him but it falters when he slips a hand over her cheek and cups her face.

"Perhaps I should be blunter?" He smirks.

She tries to shrug nonchalantly. "Perhaps…"

"Let me take you home so you can sit on my dick, Abbey."

"That's blunt… but no details. My interest is only half sparked." Eric begins leaning in closer, her head falling back in his hands.

Eric licks his lips and her eyes follow him. "You want me to go into details?"

"Right now, I just want you to kiss me because you look beautiful like this."

He chuckles at her airy voice. "Mood killer."

Eric likes their new arrangement better than he thought he would. At night they would now cook together after he got back from work. He would usually cook – remembering back to the burnt bacon and eggs she once did for him as kids.

On the side next to him, Abbey would sit on the counter, rambling away, eating the food before it was ready or adding spice as they went. Sometimes they would talk about his work, sometimes they would talk about hers. Sometimes he couldn't even remember what they had spoken about. Sometimes he burnt the food because they got a little distracted. - Her fault.

But he knew more than he let on, making sure to keep an eye on her productivity and her piqued interest, acting like he didn't know.

"There's no technical name for it yet. Amity is pretty interested in finding a polite term to call it." What Abbey was talking about, was the children being fostered to families in the wide-open space of Amity, to have a fitting childhood rather than kept by blunt women in the back of the dark tunnels of Dauntless – the main thing she despised. They have their aptitude the same as everybody else at sixteen, and chose with a free mind at eighteen, encouraged and uninfluenced as possible by whatever faction. It was their choice.

In between times, Abbey was working in the education center with the older children that were there, and some agreed to try Amity. The ones that didn't, or couldn't because of health or complicated family matters, she visited every day.

It had filled a hole for them both…

But Summer was her favorite, she spoke about her often. And the day she went to Amity, Abbey cried openly in front of him after work, literally. She had stumbled in, stared at him for a moment, and then walked into his chest and stayed there until she was calm enough to explain.

"What about, 'for the love of Abbey'?" Eric suggests, smiling, and she hits him, grabbing the spoon and dipping into the tomato sauce to try it. "Ok, flower girl? Flower power?"

"You're not helping." She sips from the spoon. "This is good, Eric. Can you hurry it up though, I'm starving."

"Patience is a virtue, Abbey Coulter."

"It'll be Ainsworth soon after I divorce your ass for not feeding me."

The thought hits him. "Why don't you call it the Ainsworth project? Or act, or movement, scheme, whatever?"

"It's a little self-indulgent don't you think?"

"No other fucker did it. No other fucked cared," he shrugs, yanking the spoon back off her to stir the sauce.

"Not Coulter?" she asks meekly. "You don't want to be recognized?"

"Ainsworth has more of a ring to it. Plus, it's the Ainsworth in you that's gone ahead and done this. Only someone like you would."

"Like me?" she questions, and it stops him, turning to frown at her.

"You want me to spill some gushing poem lyrics or something that's sickly sweet?" She scrunches her nose up and pretends to gag. Thank god she didn't say yes, he knew none. "Okay then, just accept you're special." He pats the top of her head sarcastically, but she doesn't detest.

"The Ainsworth project…" she murmurs under her breath, getting a feel for the words. "Yeah, I like that…"