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[molliemoo3]

Can someone go check on Jake Dennis and whoever the fuck OKed this?????

[thunderwetter]

TransforMay Days 7 - 9 "Dare to Live"

Part 1 of the Two-Chapter Fanfiction that will be relating to Theme 2 (Life and Death) Check this post for the full prompt list! Read the second part here!

WORD COUNT: ~1200

WARNINGS: CHARACTER DEATH (Not yet here but next chapter)

TAGS: Canon Rewrite, Assassination Plot, Moral Dilemma, Justifiable Homicide, First Aid and Ambulon fucking snap

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Delphi was not a welcoming place. It hadn’t been when it was built, it hadn’t been when it was staffed and even less so it was now, now that Ambulon, Pharma and First Aid were the only staff members that were still fully committed to their job. Especially Ambulon found trouble in adjusting himself to the merciless atmosphere of Messantine, but it was not just the planet that rejected him. It was not the threat of the DJD that caused his discomfort. It was the forced smile that Pharma had flashed him when he first arrived. The half-sparked handshake. The disdain in his voice whenever he ordered him around. Pharma tried to cover it with professionalism, but he hated Ambulon. Despised him and his past allegiance. Ambulon knew it and he ignored it. He had expected nothing less back when he joined the Autobots, he hadn’t expected open arms and warm words. But Pharma, on some days more than others, was colder than any snow outside of their shelter. Colder than the ice that surrounded them on this primus-forsaken planet and Ambulon couldn’t even do anything against it. They often had to work alongside each other, handing around instruments, tending to the same patients, fixing the same problems and enduring the unpleasant presence of the other. Ambulon had tried, really tried, to get into Pharma’s favor. He worked hard, sometimes harder than necessary, he was diligent and cooperative, followed his orders and here and there attempted some light conversation. But to no avail. First Aid he had befriended, he would even dare to claim that they were quite close, but Pharma was nothing but closed off.

“Something is going on here,” First Aid said as he was welding his patient shut. Ambulon was hesitant to reply, but after a few seconds he agreed, “Pharma stopped glaring and evolved into ignoring me altogether.” First Aid looked up, a hint of annoyance and confusion in his EM field, which he freely allowed to graze Ambulon to make sure the emotion came across even as his mask was on. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, “I was talking about how we’re not only losing faders; we suddenly have patients dying that were doing fine just a cycle ago.” Now it was Ambulon who looked up, letting his optics wander to the ceiling to think about the statement and eventually dismissing it with a shrug, “We’ve had that happen on the other side too. ‘Ghost hunt’ the others called it. You can’t save everyone, First Aid, you know that.” Ambulon nodded to the back of the room where a huge body had been comatose for a long while now. Fortress Maximus. He saw no hope for him and quite honestly, he found First Aid’s persistence to save the warden a bit wasteful. He was draining resources every day, resources that could be used on other patients with better chances. He tried to cushion his words to not feed into the fire that First Aid’s mood was slowly turning into. “Maybe some of them could have been saved if we had more resources— “ “Ambulon,” First Aid said, keeping his tone in check and pulling back his EM field to suppress the anger that accumulated in his throat from the topic being brought up again, “I wasn’t talking about the ones that needed saving. I’m talking about the ones that were recovering. Ones that we woke up from stasis and talked to already.” Ambulon thought about it again. “Cases like Cyber?” “His name was Cryo, Cyber left three Mega-cycles ago, but yes,” First Aid corrected him, slightly relieved by the fact that Ambulon was at least showing signs of understanding what he was hinting at. “I don’t think this is just a ‘ghost hunt’ or a ‘bad phase’, there’s something going on here and whenever I try to talk to Pharma about it he just dismisses me,” he added with a desperate sigh, “I was gonna ask you to talk to him but I guess that won’t work either…” They each resumed their work, silent, pondering. Ambulon looked at the T-Cog in his hands. The cables that connected it to the rest of the frame were damaged, but still possible to save, he would have to ask Pharma for assistance though. He looked at the patient’s datapad and back to the T-Cog. There were no injuries related to transforming noted when he was admitted to Delphi. Ambulon called First Aid over, who agreed on the assessment and had a closer look at the log, the documentation of previous procedures and, more importantly, who was responsible for the treatment. “Deterioration of internal cables,” First Aid read aloud, “that’s oddly unspecific, wouldn’t you agree?” Ambulon nodded, “Especially considering that it was Pharma who wrote that log. Isn’t he always the one nagging about how we should be specific in our descriptions?” First Aid groaned in annoyed agreement. Pharma was a perfectionist. And right now, he was being suspicious.

Luck was against them though, before First Aid and Ambulon could resume their discussion, said perfectionist entered the room. Seeing two of his medics converse instead of working, his optics narrowed. “I didn’t know we relocated the break room,” he said, passive aggression wrapping his words in sarcasm. First Aid closed the document and rushed back to his patient; the fresh welding scar still warm as he started checking its integrity. Silence again as Pharma strode across the room, checking the progress made on each of the cases until he stopped next to Ambulon, looking over his shoulder and watching closely. Ambulon tensed up from the presence behind him and carefully placed the T-Cog back where it belonged. “The T-Cog cables are almost fully corroded,” Ambulon said, attempting to hide the shakiness of his vocalizer, “but if we work together he can be fixed and leave in a Deca-cycle.” Pharma stepped to Ambulon’s side and inspected the situation, picking at the damaged cabling and slowly pushing Ambulon away with his body. It wasn’t the first time he had acted like this and surely enough, he said exactly what Ambulon expected him to say, “I won’t need your assistance, go make yourself useful somewhere else.” Pharma looked up at First Aid, who was updating the log to confirm the success of his task. “First Aid, go with Ambulon. You can write the report later, I need this room empty.” First Aid allowed himself to be shooed out, pulling Ambulon with him and rushing to the nearest room that held a collection of unconscious bots. Luckily, a twin pair with a branched spark was available and had procedures due today, so Ambulon and First Aid prepared the medical slabs right next to each other. This time, Pharma wouldn't be able separate them again. Branched sparks were delicate, their owners always had to be worked on simultaneously. The atmosphere was tense and dark as the duo was rummaging through tables for the correct equipment, checking the respective logs for further information that was relevant to their mission. “If that bot dies, First Aid—” Ambulon said, opening up the first twin. The end of his sentence hung in the air as he took a sharp invent. He looked at First Aid completely aghast as he pointed to the corroded cables surrounding his patient's T-Cog. First Aid took it upon himself to finish the statement, his usually gentle voice being possessed by a grim darkness, “Pharma will die too.”

Find this Fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55796878

Chapter 2 coming May 12th 👀

[freswoe]

Oh, gotcha - sorry about that, I just default to tags lol.

I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other a little bit due to your repetitions of how you don’t want to read the series. Nobody is forcing you to read TLT, and if you don’t want to read it, that’s perfectly fine! The issue fans are taking with your response is that, despite not wanting to read it, you seem happy to criticise it based on false information, which is, by the way, misinformation - that’s not an overreaction, misinformation is literally defined as ‘false or inaccurate information’. In this case, it might not have been deliberate, but the second-hand account of the scene was inarguably inaccurate.

Furthermore, when you were corrected by a fan who, yes, was a little frustrated but by no means was issuing a ‘condescending rant’ (in fact, I’d say that response itself, plus your initial tag of ‘people read this???’ was more condescending and rude than the response, but that’s another matter), you clearly refused to interact in good faith with any of what they said. They gave a very clear explanation of how the language was necessary/what it illustrated, and yet all you can say to that is that it represents ‘something about that character?’. Forgive me if I’ve misunderstood your tone, but that implies to me that you didn’t really read or engage with any of what they said.

Please don’t imply that I don’t think you’re ‘qualified’ to have an opinion. You absolutely can have an opinion on the series, obviously, and nobody needs any type of ‘qualification’ to have an opinion. However, if you haven’t actually read the series in the first place, that makes having a well-informed and rounded opinion rather difficult, and that’s true of reading any book. Also, your opinion is based on incorrect information, and when given the actual truth of what the scene is, you blatantly tossed that aside, instead seemingly preferring to stick to your initial, false argument. Despite having no idea what you’re talking about - as you yourself said you know nothing about Muir or the series - you’re acting like you’ve fully read all three books and are intimately familiar with the style.

That’s what’s frustrating other fans - not the fact that you dislike meme language, but that you’re a) criticising the meme language without any knowledge of or desire to read the series (which, by the way, also has some incredible prose outside of the references - the Nonius scene in the second book comes to mind for me), and that you appear unable to acknowledge that the initial information you based your opinion on was wrong - not that the opinion itself is wrong, just that the information wasn’t right.

To clarify: nobody is forcing you to read TLT or saying that you’re dumb if you don’t like the writing style, and I obviously think that you’re qualified to have an opinion already - however, when you base your opinion on something incorrect, and refuse to engage in good faith with somebody who knows more about the series than you correcting the information you based your opinion on, that’s where we get frustrated. The references might sound insufferable to you, yes, but that’s the point - they sound insufferable. As kindly as possible, you genuinely do not know what you’re talking about, and that makes critiquing a series/having a discussion about its flaws rather difficult.

I guess where I’m confused is simply: if you’re not going to read the book but want to criticise it, and yet refuse to interact with a person giving you the full information on the scene you’re criticising, what’s the point?

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 10}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian poured Alis Birch a cup of coffee and sat across the rug from her on the couch.

It had been ten minutes since Cassian let her inside, and Nesta still wasn’t downstairs.

“Where is Ms. Archeron?” Alis asked, surely sensing Cassian’s nervousness. 

“She’ll be down in a minute,” Cassian promised, reminding himself to sit up straight. “She was just getting out of the bath. She often enjoys those at night.”

“Hmm.” Alis set the mug down on top of a coaster on the side table. She hadn’t taken a drink. After reaching into her bag for a binder, she opened it up and cleared her throat. “Am I correct in the understanding that you and Ms. Archeron are not in a relationship?”

Cassian swallowed. “That is correct.” 

“Interesting,” she began, clicking her tongue. “I must say that I’ve never heard of such a situation.” 

“The situation was exactly planned,” he said, a slight tone settling into his voice. “Her sister died. My best friend died. They wanted us, as Nyx’s godparents, to take care of him. We…wanted to honor their wishes.”

She took a few notes. “Which I find very admirable of you two. Just as long as there are no complications.”

Cassian blinked. “Complications?”

Nesta’s voice came from the stairs and Alis looked up. “Hi, I’m so sorry, we weren’t expecting you!”

She cleared her throat and stood as Nesta approached. “Yes, Ms. Archeron, that’s the point of random visit. We don’t want you to be prepared for it. We want to see you in your everyday life.” She shook Nesta’s hand and they sat down. “Now, I assume Nyx is asleep?”

“Yeah, but I can go get him if I need to,” Cassian replied, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, towards the stairs.

Nesta slapped his thigh with the back of her hand.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Alis replied, an eyebrow raising at Nesta, before she went back to scribbling in her notebook. “We know you’re keeping him on a proper sleep schedule, at least.”

“Right,” Nesta nodded. “Two naps a day and in bed by eight, most nights.” She opened a water bottle Cassian had strategically sat on the side table and took a sip. “You two were talking about complications when I was coming downstairs? What sort of complications?”

Frankly, Alis asked, “I was just asking Mr. Nazari if you two are sleeping with each other?”

Water sprayed from Nesta’s mouth, thankfully over Cassian, not the social worker.

Even he seemed too stunned to be upset.

“If we are sleeping together?” She asked. She shook her head, adamantly. “No, cauldron, definitely not.”

“You seem offended by that,” Alis said, tilting her head. “Is there anything else going on? Any conflict?”

“Oh, no,” Nesta answered, far too quickly. “No, we’re just fine. Friends, even. Well, maybe not friends, but we don’t exactly hate one another.”

“Alright,” Cassian interjected. “Thank you, Nesta, for that. We are just getting to know each other is all she’s saying.”

“It seems like she’s saying a lot more than that,” Alis muttered, but shook her head. “Have there been any doctor visits or any other scares?”

“Nesta-.”

“I took Nyx to the doctor this morning,” Nesta said, interrupting Cassian. “Nasty rash on his ass, but nothing to be too worried about, at least that’s what his doctor said. Other than that, no scares.”

Gods, she was still drunk. She had to be, if she was telling the social worker assigned to their case that Nyx had a nasty rash on his ass.

Alis paused her note taking, looking at the two of them. “Have either of you ever taken care of a child before? Long term?”

Cassian shook his head, but Nesta said, “I was keeping Nyx, when the accident happened. It hadn’t been long, but I was taking care of him.”

Cassian knew that wasn’t the type of long term they were looking for, but thankfully, Alis didn’t push. She just resituated her notebook and asked, “Ms. Archeron, what is it you do for a living?”

Nesta immediately perked up. “I am the head chef and owner of the Thyme & Rosemary Café.”

Alis looked impressed for the first time all evening. “You’re a business owner?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nesta replied, nodding. “I opened the café right after culinary school, thanks to some generous investors, and we’ve had a very successful four years, having a profitable year every year we’ve been open.”

Cassian looked out of the corner of his eye at the woman next to him on the couch. He knew Nesta had her own restaurant, but he had no idea how well she’d been doing.

“And you, Mr. Nazari?”

He turned to look at her and scratched at the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’m a bartender.”

Blinking slowly, Alis asked, “A bartender?”

He saw Nesta cringe from where she sat next to him,but mercifully, she kept her mouth shut. “Well, technically, I’m a bar manager, but I do help make and serve the drinks, on top of my many managerly duties.”

Nesta’s head fell into her hand.

He cleared his throat ignoring her. “I also make and sell homemade, custom acoustic guitars.”

Alis nearly looked impressed. “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded. “It’s mostly just a hobby, but I sell on Etsy and at art shows from time to time. Someday, I hope for it to be a full time gig. Bartending definitely pays the bills in the meantime, though.”

“I see,” Alis said, at last. “So, you’re telling me that Nyx is fully supported financially?”

“Fully,” Cassian said, just as Nesta said, “Damn straight.”

Drunk Nesta was an interesting creature, Cassian decided.

Alis clicked her tongue as she flipped through her binder. “One last question for the evening. What do you do with Nyx when you’re both at work?”

“We hired a nanny recently,” Cassian said. “She’s highly qualified and great with Nyx.”

“And has great qualities, if you ask Cassian,” Nesta added with a wink.

“I don’t follow,” Alis replied, looking at him.

Mother’s tits, he was going to kill her. “She recently received a degree in early childhood education from University of Velaris,” he said, covering Nesta’s ass. “No major jobs yet, but we decided her qualifications outweighed her lack of experience. And Nyx loves her, so we have no complaints so far.”

“Got it,” she replied, looking between the two of them.

As she looked down to scribble in her notebook, Cassian shoved the water bottle she’d sat down on the cushions back into her hands.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Alis said, standing abruptly, closing her notebook and replacing it in her bag. They both stood as well, Nesta thankfully not swaying on her feet. As she headed for the front door, she informed them, “Your next visit will be random as well.”

“Will it at least be in the daytime,” Nesta muttered, and Cassian pinched her ass, silently telling her to shut the hell up.

Nesta stood up a little straighter, but that was the only indication that she was following Cassian’s annoyance.

“You two have a good night,” Alis said. “Next time, I’ll have to come when Nyx is awake.”

“That would be lovely,” Cassian promised.

Nesta snorted.

Alis looked at them both before nodding her head in respect and following Cassian out. When he shut the door behind her, Cassian stormed to Nesta and crossed his arms. “What the hell?”

“What the hell what?” Nesta asked, then laughed. “I think that went well.”

“Yeah, thanks to me,” Cassian said.

“Thanks to you?” Nesta asked, brows shot into her hairline. “You were struggling down here until I came along.”

Cassian blinked, then laughed. “You’re drunk!”

“I’m fine!”

“You can hardly string a sentence together!” Cassian argued. “If we were to lose Nyx, it would be your fault.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, getting in his face. “She loved that I was a business owner. It was impressive.”

“So is your breath, you smell like a winery,” he said, stepping back and fanning in front of his face.

In all reality, she didn’t smell like wine. She smelled like lavender and vanilla…and sex. But Cassian had to step away from that smell, especially as his memory flashed with what he’d interrupted.

Her face didn’t indicate that her feelings were particularly warm towards him in that moment, but he sighed and said, “It went okay, and that’s a good thing, no matter what. We just…need to be a little prepared for her next time.”

She sighed, agreeing.

“You can…go back to your bath now,” Cassian said, clearing his throat.

Nesta’s cheeks heated. “I was done anyways.”

The words flitted through Cassian’s head before he could stop them. Didn’t look like you were done. Looked like you were right in the middle of something.

He swallowed, sharply, and nodded. “I’m going to try and have that beer again. Heat up some more lasagna.”

She nodded, and said, “Sounds good. I’m gonna try and get some sleep.”

“Well, goodnight,” Cassian said, his eyes still connected with hers.

“Goodnight,” she said, and yet, neither of them moved. Nesta asked, after a moment, “Did you like my lasagna?”

“It was delicious,” Cassian said, even though his words were clipped. 

“Good,” Nesta snapped. “I also made homemade breadsticks. They’re in the fridge. You may have some.”

“Great,” Cassian said, pointedly. “I like breadsticks.” Nesta scoffed. “Who doesn’t?”

The two remained staring at one another.

“I’m going to bed,” Nesta repeated.

“Fine,” Cassian said.

“Fine,” Nesta repeated. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

She finally turned and made her way up the stairs.

Cassian tried his hardest, damn him, he really did, not to stare at her ass.

He did exactly as he said he was going to do, grabbing a new beer from the fridge, his original one sitting warm on the table in the entryway, and heated up another massive serving of Nesta’s lasagna, tossing a few breadsticks in the toaster oven to heat up as well.

He definitely wouldn’t complain if she wanted to cook dinner for him every night. He hadn’t been lying when he said he could cook breakfast, which he was content to do for himself, but if this was how great her dinners were, he wanted to know what her breakfast tasted like.

Which then made him think about reasons she would have made him breakfast, in any other situation than the one they were in.

He could still see her head thrown back, half lidded eyes rolling back in ecstasy. And the soft moan he’d heard. He imagined her making that noise while she writhed underneath him, as he thrust into her, plunging deep and-.

Fuck, this wasn’t good.

This was so not good.

*

Nesta had the day off and she was grateful for it, considering she had a pounding headache and was sick to her stomach.

Thanks, alcohol.

Cassian went to the bar early to prep for opening, and Nesta was left alone with Nyx, who didn’t give a damn about her hangover. 

They were currently in the living room, Nyx standing up in his bouncer, and Nesta popping her third round of ibuprofen. 

With a sigh, Nesta shook her head. “Don’t ever drink, buddy.”

Nyx simply grinned in response.

As she turned on the tv, Nesta’s phone chimed.

A text.

Excited for our non-date tomorrow. We still on for noon?

Balthazar hadn’t given her his cell phone number when she’d left the doctor’s office the day before, only the office number, in case of “emergencies”.

She saved Bal’s number, before sending a quick reply back.

I hope you didn’t pull my number from your patient database. That seems very irresponsible. But yes, noon sounds perfect.

She sent the text off, her attention bouncing from the television to Nyx. She did her best not to watch her phone.

Nyx’s hands reached out to Nesta, and he began babbling. He was hungry.

As she took him out of his bouncer and carried him into the kitchen, Nesta’s phone went off, once more.

I would never be so unprofessional. I put in ten digits and got lucky.

Nesta snorted but forced herself not to reply so quickly. She didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.

Which is what? She asked herself as she put Nyx into his high chair. “You hungry, buddy?”

She spread a small layer of Puffs on his high chair tray, swiping one for herself as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and wrote back. She chewed slowly as she typed.

Some luck you have then. Maybe we should play the lottery on the way home from our not-date.

She sat her phone down and began heating a small portion of raviolis on the stove for Nyx. She couldn’t bring herself to make lunch for him from scratch. Her head was pounding too hard and she wanted to lay him down for a nap so she could take one, too.

After his chubby hands were sufficiently covered in pasta sauce, Nesta was cleaning them off by the sink when she glanced at the calendar they’d hung up to designate when someone was on baby duty and when either of them had big plans. She froze as she remembered that tomorrow was Cassian’s day to be off, while she was supposed to be looking after Nyx.

She knew she could very well take Nyx along to lunch with Balthazar, the man worked with kids, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to them. But she knew there was a difference in separating work from personal life, it was the reason she hadn’t suggested her restaurant when he’d asked her to lunch. Hadn’t even mentioned Rosemary & Thyme. Not to mention, she would appreciate some uninterrupted time with him.

She would have to convince Cassian to watch Nyx for her tomorrow. Just for a few hours.

It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

*

Cassian got home just after one in the morning.

He had worked all day, thanks to the pick up in customers they’d had. It was good for business, of course, but he was exhausted.

And surprised, as he saw that Nesta was still awake, reading a book on the couch.

“More smut?” Cassian asked, tossing his keys on the end table.

Nesta’s eyes shot to him and narrowed. “That’s none of your concern.”

Cassian laughed, quietly, as he wandered into the kitchen. “Did Nyx have a good day?”

“He did,” Nesta said, nodding. “I had a pretty good day, too. How was your day?”

Cassian blinked, slowly turning to face her. “Fine. You sound suspicious.”

“I’m not suspicious,” she said, closing her book and setting it, cover down, on the coffee table.

It was Cassian’s turn to narrow his eyes, and he looked around the corner, into the kitchen, half expecting to see it in flames or some other disaster she was hiding from him.

“What’s up, Nes?” He said, looking back at her and leaning his shoulder on the door frame.

“Nothing is up, why would anything be up?”

She asked, not meeting his eyes.

He came and sat down next to her on the couch, leaving her nowhere to look, but at him.

She cleared her throat, knowing she’d been caught, but looked over the back of her book, resting in front of them. “I need you to do me a favor.”

He was thankful she wasn’t looking at him as his eyes dipped down to her hand resting on her lap, that hand that had been submerged under her bath water the night before. “What kind of favor?”

“I…need you to watch Nyx for a few hours tomorrow during the day,” she said, looking back at him and he dragged his eyes back to hers.

He blinked, as if he were processing his request. “What? Why?” He asked, then shook his head. “It’s my day off, you’re watching him tomorrow.”

Just as Cassian began to stand, Nesta grabbed for his hand. “Please! His pediatrician asked me to have lunch with him, and I’d really prefer not to take him along. I’ll still watch him all night, you can go hang out with Az or do whatever you want to do.”

He was so hung up on her words that he barely registered that her hand was clutching his. “His pediatrician?” He asked, alarm on his face. “Is he okay? I thought you said it was just a diaper rash!”

“No, no, Nyx is fine,” she promised. “This is less of a professional visit.”

“Less of a…” His words trailed off. “You’re going on a date with Nyx’s doctor?”

His voice was colder than she’d expected it to be.

“It’s not a date,” Nesta explained. “It’s a...non-date. Two acquaintances having lunch,” she said, repeating what Bal had said to her.

Cassian just stared at her, continuing to process. “Two...acquaintances? Nesta, that’s a fucking date.”

“And what if it is?” Nesta asked, exasperated, her own anger rising from his anger. “What if it is a date? Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Cassian snapped.

“Sure as hell sounds like it does,” Nesta shot back.

“We have a baby now, Nesta, we can’t just date!” He said.

Nesta’s brows shot up. “And why is that?”

Cassian hesitated. “Because.”

Nesta snorted. “Great answer, Cassian.” He didn’t respond and she asked, “Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?”

For a moment, he just glared at her before he finally admitted, “No.”

She stood, still holding onto his hand. “Please, Cass. I’ll owe you the biggest favor. You can have any day off you want. Please.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the way she said his name, that shortened nickname she never used, or the promise of a future Friday night off. It may have been the genuine plea in her voice, but he sighed.

“Fine. I’ll- I’ll watch him for you tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you!” She threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly, and then suddenly stepped back, realizing what she’d done. “Sorry, I’ll just…” She picked up her book, clutching it to her chest. “Goodnight. Thank you.”

She was headed for the stairs before he’d even moved.

He just stood there, watching her go, wondering if he just made the dumbest decision of his week.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter.  I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her.  It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point.  I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test.  It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again.  At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.”  I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it.  Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide.  I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead.  She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca.  She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After.  It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time.  But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out.  As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could.  And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way.  Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust.  It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that.  Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek.  He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger.  It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used.  We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2.  Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics.  Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case.  The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out!  With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him.  It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty.  I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL.  Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work.  Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[sintreaties]

I'm a writer on AO3. I'm good, and I know it, but people don't click Kudo or leave any comments. It made me feel like there was no point in sharing a story no one wants to read.

I understand where this is coming from, but also, I don’t think it’s that easy. It’s true that most people tend to forget about Kudos or don’t care to leave them, idem with comments, and let’s be honest, not everyone is a chatter-box so I can forgive that a bit more. And people’s tastes are hard to predict too! Most of the time it’s just a question of luck in choosing the prompt. I’d like to say that technical skill also has its weight, but seeing how a lot of the works on the main KKG page by Kudos on Ao3 are group chat fics, we both know I’d be lying.

As I only either write for myself or for people that specifically request what I’m writing, I don’t really tend to be frustrated by it. I never wrote for the fandom, nor I ever will because I know that would be a disappointment for both myself and others.

Of course I know that even if I tell you to change your mentality it won’t be that easy. Telling you “it’s just fanfics, it’s not that serious” won’t work either. These are the pieces of advice I can give you after three years in the fandom:

1) observe what the larger portion of the fandom likes in terms of genre. In KKG’s case, it’s often smut, fluff and comedy (not necessarily in this order), with some exceptions for angsty fics like In Bloom (but In Bloom heavily relies on technical ability and on a very experienced creator who’s been writing for more than ten years , so keep that in mind when comparing yourself to others).

Do the same with characters. KiraSaya has the most works in Ao3, followed by Meariri. If you choose a rairpair (like I did) and an odd genre (like I did) to reach the top it will take you twenty chapter (like I did with Of Thorns and Petals, which took two years to gain the main KKG page on Ao3. It still means nothing to me, because I just really liked the story and the challenge, but keep it in consideration). Don’t forget to tag things properly either. It’s necessary for others’ comfort sometimes but also to make it easier for them to find your works if it suits their tastes.

2) interact with the community. Reach out to some creators you like, interact with their works, ask them to collaborate, join a server and let others know you by writing random short prompt for them (of course, be safe when you interact with people you don’t know). This is the hard route to be honest, but although nothing can assure your success, there’s a very high chance you’ll meet wonderful people that share your same passions and struggles and that will add to the fun of creating much more than the occasional boost of serotonin given by random Kudos.

3) I can’t stress this enough, but write what makes you happy. I know this sounds like a pradox after all the rest, but really! Creating is about passion and self-expression. People can see it and in some cases they can fully appreciate it! If you don’t put yourself first you’ll quickly get burn-out, and I assure you, neither you nor your possible readers will want to read a half-cooked fic in your head when you’re too bitter and tired to consider writing at all.

4) this will probably sound very harsh now. When I first became “popular” in the fandom with fics like A Hotel Room I also thought I was good. It took me very little to realize how wrong I was.

Reading the works of someone more experienced and more educated made me realize that my writing was lacking and in no little measure! Little by little I started to correct some of those mistakes and although now I certainly improved I know for a fact that I’m still no New York Times Bestseller writer. That’s completely all right. How am I supposed to improve if I just sit on my (very small, very relative) success?

Writing takes skills, no more and no less than painting. Talent and predisposition are important, but so is practice. Be humble enough to doubt your own skills and to ask others to beta-read for you, asking for corrections and learning from what they tell you (choose people you trust of course). That is how you become good in terms of execution, along with learning as much as you can from others’ works.

5) last but not least, don’t let others and the lack of immediate results demotivate you. You can’t compare yourself to others, most importantly if you don’t even know them. Not everyone is born to be the most talented writer right off the bat. Not every work can be appreciated by the multitude. Luck, practice and passion will help you with all of this, but in the end, you are you and not everyone will agree with what you have to say. It’s okay. As long as you’re satisfied with what you created, that should be already a success for you, no matter how small it is.

That’s all I can give you lol. I hope it helped — if not you, at least whoever needed to be told this sort of things. I know that fandoms and fancreations have become a big part of life for some during quarantine, but don’t stress over it too much.

Feel free to share your Ao3 name and some of your works if you don’t feel too shy, even in DMs. I can’t promise I’ll read them because I rarely have time to read fanfics these days, but maybe I can send someone your way ;)

[miss-noo-na]

And Then There Were Three (Chapter 6)

Title: And Then There Were Three

Rating: Mature.

Summary: Things have become complicated

Note: See masterlist for parts 1-5! You wanted to laugh, to tell Changkyun to stop messing around and be serious, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t joking and he was very much serious.

“Listen, this is crazy,” You attempted to get your bearings on all the information you had just received. You sat up, gathering some of the blankets to pull over your front, unable to have this conversation so exposed.

“You’re not in love with me, and neither is Jooheon. I think we’re all just in over our heads and maybe we should just relax.” You explained diligently and you saw Changkyun smirking from where he lay. Then he actually let out a chuckle.

“Does that scare you?” He asked, which made your brow furrow.

“What? Scare me?” You replied, then scoffed like it was ridiculous.

“The idea that we could both be in love with you, that’s terrifying to you, isn’t it?” Now he sat up too, both facing each other.

“Of course not, I just don’t think it’s true. These feelings never came up before, why would they now?”

“Oh come on,” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Jooheon has definitely been making puppy eyes at you since the very beginning, we all knew he was going to get there eventually. And you and I…..well that’s more complicated.”

It was, you couldn’t deny that. It had always been more than sex, but you wouldn’t have called it love, either. Honestly, you were basing that off what you knew of love and not what you had experienced of it. The word love made you think of chaste things, soft moments and gradually developing romantic feelings. Nothing you did with Changkyun felt like that.

“I’ve never been jealous in my life.” He spoke then, “So when I had those feelings I really had to think about them.”

“And what did you conclude?”

“It's not like anything I’ve ever felt for someone before, that’s why it's so confusing. All I know is that I want to be around you. I want to be with you, and I want you to be with me.”

His words came calm and collected, deliberate in their intention, and that made them all the more striking and real. He wasn’t one for being vulnerable like this, and it gave you that feeling. The one that swirled through your stomach and made your cheeks tingle.

Jooheon had given you that feeling, too, with his gentle touches and reserved smiles. You realized what danger you were in, not wanting to give either one of them up but not seeing a way you could have it all. It was fine when it was physical, but now felt somehow unfair. How could there be enough of you? You still didn’t even believe just one of them could feel that way, much less both.

“I have a lot to think about.” You said quietly, and Changkyun nodded, solemn but understanding.

He said no one would be home for a while, and opened up an offer for you to stay longer, but you declined, and saw the trace of disappointment in his eyes. It was weird to see him act like this. Just a day ago you were questioning whether or not he saw you as more than just an object, now he was professing things like love. Things had turned around so quickly you were barely able to keep up.

You purposely kept your distance after that, needing time to sort things out. You hadn’t told Jooheon anything other than feeling like you needed time to yourself, and he respected that even if there seemed to be some concern in his response. You didn’t want to put him on the spot again, especially since this news of his supposed feelings came from a third party. Sometimes if you caught him laughing or saying something cute you wanted to reach out and touch him, but shook the feeling off.

Changkyun checked on you occasionally through texts, but stayed away from you in person except for when he had no choice. This was the most professional he had ever been and something about it felt wrong. You missed his teasing, his little pokes and prods throughout the day, things he did to keep you on your toes and “remind you who you belonged to”, as he liked to joke. Just the thought of it sent a shiver through you.

The fact that you yearned for them both in equal doses only complicated things further. Sometimes you thought it would be better to forget the whole thing, quit your job and move on, putting this little experimental excursion behind you as an interesting part of your younger days. Surely if you backed out now, it wouldn’t feel so bad?

But the longer you kept yourself separate from them, the more the want grew.

Then a text came through one afternoon, not from Changkyun but Jooheon.

“I know you need some time,” It started, then continued, “but I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

Always so sweet and careful.

You were worried, though. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, and you still hadn’t figured out what you wanted to say.

You agreed, and since he said it would be brief you chose a café that was small and quiet, hidden away from potential prying eyes.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you.” He said, looking down into a cup of black coffee.

“It’s fine,” You forced a smile. “What’s up?”

“I know you said you needed some time alone and I’m sorry I interrupted that-”

“It’s fine.” You repeated, and he nodded before he continued speaking.

“I just don’t think it’s really necessary. I know you’re probably spending time with Changkyun still and I just wanted to tell you it’s okay.”

You opened your mouth to correct him, but closed it when you saw he wasn’t done speaking.

“You can tell me you don’t want to see me anymore, it’s fine, there’s no reason to drag this out.” He forced his own smile, it was heavy and not very convincing. His eyes darted away quickly.

“Jooheon,” You sighed before you continued. “I haven’t been seeing Changkyun, either.”

His head perked up, surprise all across his face. “You haven’t?”

“No, I haven’t been around either one of you.”

“Oh, well,” He fumbled for a moment, trying to re-work his thoughts.

“In that case, if you’re trying to decide where we should go from here, I just wanted to tell you it’s alright if you don’t choose me.”

Choose me. He looked like he regretted saying it like that. It was, more or less, his own subtle way of confessing.

“To be honest, I’m a bit confused right now.” You spoke then, and he listened intently.

“I don’t really know who feels what about who,” You continued with a laugh, and you saw something tug at his mouth, too.

“From the beginning, I knew you and Changkyun had something...different.” He cleared his throat to say, and you tried to suppress a grin.

“And I thought I was just tagging along, but then you came over that day and-...well, you know.” He trailed off and you saw his cheeks flush a bit. It was funny to think of him as shy or embarrassed by it, especially after all the things he had said and done to you behind closed doors. You had to will yourself to not get distracted by the memories.

“I was hoping you might,” He stopped himself, looking ahead at you with a sober expression.

You tilted your head to the side, indicating that he could go on, but he swallowed hard and seemed to get nervous. You were getting impatient with him, you wanted to know if what Changkyun said was true.

“You were hoping I might have romantic feelings for you?” You stated as plainly as possible, and now he was fully red from neck to ears, shifting uncomfortably and letting out a timid chuckle.

“Yeah.” He almost whispered, and you felt your stomach drop. What might have otherwise been a very sweet confession instead gave you a sense of dread. Now you knew for sure they both felt this way about you, even if you were still skeptical about Changkyun.

But that wasn’t the question right now. The question was about what you felt, and you could deny it all day but you knew it was true from the start. The reason you even felt comfortable inviting him in to your tryst was because he was loving, kind, playful, and exactly the sort of person who made you feel cared for. These were things that shouldn’t matter in a sexual exploit, but were the things you most looked forward to when he was around.

“I do.” The words slipped out before you were ready, but once it was out there you couldn’t go back. It dawned on him slowly and the way his face lit up made your heart ache.

“But, I still need time. I have a lot of things to sort out.”

He nodded, serious once more. “Of course.”

You mumbled through some chit-chat before deciding to leave, standing and glancing around to make sure no one could see. You reached up and kissed him on the cheek, and watched his lips curl and his eyes crease into an adorable smile.

You left feeling relief in some areas and worse in others, and you knew you needed to talk to Changkyun again.

You gave it a couple more days before you built up the nerve to ask him, and he gave you a time he would be alone for you to swing by. You told yourself that no matter what happened, you wouldn’t let him charm you into bed again, as he was one to do.

When he invited you in that evening, there was a distance about it. He wasn’t cold, like before, but he definitely wasn’t touching you or being overly friendly, either. He offered you something to drink, which you turned down, and then you made your way over to the couch. There was silence for a long while, and you could tell he was letting you lead. Since he wasn’t one for small talk, you went straight into your first thought.

“There’s a blockage.” You started and he peered up at you with a confused furrow.

“Like, there’s this wall I have with you. I can be so vulnerable and open when we’re having sex but then its like everything shuts down afterward.”

“Oh?” He seemed genuinely intrigued by this revelation.

“I figured out that's why I had so much trouble believing you would be in love with me. Because if you are, you’ve never really shown it.”

This seemed to surprise him. “And here I thought I was being totally transparent.” He laughed, but when he looked away there was a sense of dejection.

“We agreed that there’s always been something more,” You reiterated from your last conversation, “But it feels like it’s just beyond the surface, like I can’t quite reach it.”

“So what, you want me to get all mushy like Jooheon does?” He asked, framed as a joke but you could detect the edge of sarcasm in his tone that told you it actually bothered him, maybe even made him angry.

“I didn’t say that.” You shook your head. “But you think there would be something, anything, that would show me I’m more than an object to you.”

He seemed to wince at your words and you could tell this was difficult for him, but you didn’t have any idea how to help him.

“Yesterday, when you said you wanted to be with me?” You started, leaning in so you could be closer to him. “I felt that, when you were just being honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you,” He met your eyes, “It just takes some time.”

“Don’t I know it,” You laughed, recalling his little pity party when he found you with Jooheon.

“It doesn’t always have to be words, you know.” You reached out and picked up his arm by his wrist, and it hung limp and heavy in your grasp as he watched. “If you’re not good with those, there are other ways.”

You don’t know why you were so nervous, considering the other ways this man had touched you, but you trembled a little as you brought his hand to your face and nuzzled into his palm before placing a delicate kiss on his knuckles, and you smiled when you felt him relax, a small sigh leaving his lips.

He opened his hand and cupped your face, and you felt your stomach do a somersault when he stroked his thumb over your cheek. It was the softest he had ever caressed you and it spoke volumes.

“See?” You said quietly, looking up at him

He looked content for a moment, but you watched in real time as his face slowly fell back into his somber expression, and his hand fell away from you.

“I can’t love you like he does.” He spoke, and it felt like a sharp crack through the tenderness, stinging you in the process.

“Even if it’s the same feelings, you deserve someone who knows how to do it right.”

He didn’t know it, but these moments were when his veneer slipped off and you really saw him, and you liked what you saw.

You wanted to tell him there was no right way, and whatever way he felt to do it was just fine. But you still didn’t know where you stood, and speaking to them both had only made things harder on you. All you had done is confirm that they did care about you, and you cared about them, too.

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Mail Jeevas

Let me know if you want alphabet for Near as well. You can check tosikowrites tag for more! Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

For Matt, being affectionate is as natural as breathing. You can’t call him over-the-top, his love is immature like he just got first teenage crush, and therefore it is difficult to predict his thoughts. In the beginning, awkwardness can slip through accidental hands touch or misplaced kisses. He giggles a lot to cover insecurities and it kinda works.

At the same time he tends to hesitate when things are about to get intimate. New experiences overwhelm him. If relationship seems to develop too quickly, Matt will subtly slow them down without making a fuss.

Won’t ever let his loved one go to bed in tears. It cuts him deeply as a friend and a partner to see his favorite person suffering. Of course, Matt lacks a bachelor degree in psychology, but he knows how to use active listening skills: he actually gives them space to speak their mind, makes pauses when necessary, and asks questions to hear the answers and not to simply imitate a concern.

One of the ways to show affection is to introduce loved one to his friends. We are talking not about a casual “this is name1, this is name2” but a special bond establishing, where everybody is treated with the same respect, trust, each person plays a specific role. Matt basically builds small “family” of closest people, ride-or-die gang from photos on which you see comments like “I wish I had friends like that”.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Matt is the type of friend you never knew you needed in your life. It is easy to overlook his quiet persona so you the only way you can meet him is through mutual friends during DnD session, night out in the arcade, etc.

He speaks the language of memes and irony and ironic memes, which he will send the second he sees something you would be interested in. Sharing is caring, so Matt will introduce you to anything he finds even a little bit entertaining. Friendship with this guy involves a lot of inside jokes that are completely incomprehensible to unenlightened people around.

Chill aura follows Matt everywhere he goes and you will experience its miraculous effects as well. Problems do not exist in his plan of reality, any extreme negative emotions do not either. It may be strange at first but later you crave his presence and stability that comes with it. In short, wholesome person in a grungy shell.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The miserable situation in which person is truly snuggble (is it even a word?) but has to be in specific mood for it. Matt turns into panda, wrapping his limbs around the partner’s body, today but keeps it modest with only his head lying on their lap next day. He has a bad habit of nestling to the loved one after smoking weed so a sickly sweet smell imprints on their clothes, hair, and whatever he touches.

Without ongoing conversation, Matt starts dozing in a few minutes. His embrace turns into a bear trap, and poor soul, who was (un)lucky enough to get caught, has low chances to escape.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I mean, mentally he is already settled down with his console and Mello? Yes, that sound like him, there’s a good chance Matt would want to have nice comfy life with the loved one. He can’t cook for shit and is an incorrigible slob but, boi, he will try to make their home the coziest nest out here. He will try really hard to be better cook and keep house clean when domesticity hits him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Matt is a mess. His heart drops when a thought of break-up arises in the mind. He even starts to think that ghosting isn’t that cruel and there’s nothing craven in breaking-up through message. This would deprive him from the sight of them crying at least. After much hesitation, Matt will meet with them close to their house to explain what was on his mind lately. Despite how it goes, he’s filled with unpleasant feeling of betrayal.

A week later Matt will try to get in touch just to see how they’re doing. Are they okay? Are they mad at him? Do they want to talk? What if they want to stay friends? Because Matt wants to stay friends, he planned to stay close to them after breaking-up. Even if some things do not work out, Matt still wants to support them and share all the best in their life.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Seems to look for someone like a best friend to marry and won’t plan anything before he’s fully convinced in a person’s fit. It takes, maybe, two or three years for him to start thinking about proposing, though Matt doesn’t make a big of a deal of this event. His approach is very unpretentious: no restaurant date with small red box, no witnesses with cameras and whatsoever, Matt fondly asks a question while cuddling or eating ice cream out of bucket in silly pajamas. A smile never leaves his lips after they say “yes”. He probably cries on the wedding day too.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Matt is pretty inconsistent when it comes to gentleness. His laid-back nature doesn’t negate his soft side but doesn’t add up to it either, giving his behavior a touch of indifference. His comprehension of physical aspect is better than emotional because it doesn’t have such blurry undertones and can be controlled more precisely. Therefore Matt needs a bit of time to find the correct love language for a new partner and give them clear answer which one works the best for him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Surprisingly, not so fond of hugs? He won’t ever reject them but it seems like he tries to keep small distance at the same time. You may have experienced it, defective hug when a person does not hug you in full force but also doesn’t let go. In this case, you don’t really understand the reason since person hugged you, right, they must like you to do it but ehhh. Matt takes initiative half of the times, but remember about the quality of dollar store kush.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He says “I love you” every so often. For Matt It’s a phase used not only in romantic way but also as an expression of appreciation for your friends and family. In the beginning Matt will also say “I love you” (like he does to Mello) to make person acknowledge how much they mean to him but later its meaning shifts to more serious one and is accompanied with long tirade about his feelings. So yeah, as fast as they become good friends which may take month or two.  

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

On a scale of jealousy Matt scores lower than average and it takes a lot of time for him to realize someone is seriously hitting on his loved one even if another person acts pretty straightforward. After realizing what’s going on Matt will act needy. He won’t stop following his loved one and holding their hand, placing small pecks on their cheeks and giving his rival dirty look.

If he witnesses his lover acting too flirty, he won’t say a word. Only after they are alone, Matt reluctantly will try to set record straight. Relationship takes two to work, and he won’t force them to stay just for the sake of staying.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

You’ll never get bored with this goofy kisser: he is sloppy, but also gentle and sweet. Well, not that sweet since you can taste the tobacco bitterness on the tip of his tongue 99% of the time. Sometimes, Matt gets so carried away that he will kiss his loved one right in the middle of the sentence. Prefers classical lips kisses and kisses on the forehead for both kissing and being kissed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Man, Matt can connect to little ones on the spiritual level. He talks to them like they are his equal in every way possible and from the outside it looks adorable. Teenagers need space? Good, here you go! Kids want a piggyback ride? Jump on it, he got you! Baby-toddler screams the lugs out? Mail prepared ear plugs, pacifier, and a collection of toys! Even when they are causing troubles, this guy remains very understanding.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Night work puts both Matt’s laptop and himself into sleeping mode at 5-6 in the morning. If you are the early bird, you have high chance to find him at the dawn, with his heavy head resting on his hands. The best option is to wake him up gently and send him to the bed before those muscles get stone-stiff.

On rare occasions he goes to bed right after you just to have a major sleep-in. Nothing can disturb his sleep, not a blasting cannons, nor a nightmare, since his mind goes off and shuts down like a corrupted program.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Let’s not talk about work days, we already know how it goes. On his free time Matt likes to stay at home and have a quiet evening with his loved one or by himself. After pizza is ordered, he jumps on the couch and lies down for a bit. If his loved one is here as well Matt asks what they want to do. His suggestion would be build a pillow fort and wait inside, chatting about stupid things. Trite, but playing video games is second option on the list. They can play together or take turns, Matt is down for anything and will definitely let them beat him in Mario kart.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Reveals facts about himself slowly, but tends to have deep conversations about things like fears, dreams, emotional experiences, even traumas. Seeing the sincere intentions of a person, he will reciprocate the effort to get to know them better. Also, when Matt is in playful mood he will play that “well, try to guess it” or “well, that’s true… or is it?” card making conversation even easier. He may have few topics like life in orphanage he is not comfortable with so he will politely refuse to talk about them or cover them with jokes.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Tibetan monks called, asked if they can book a private lesson in tranquility for their unexperienced young apprentices. This man is the embodiment of appeasement, he is good-naturedly calm and his peaceful mood easily transfers to this around him. He perceives the anger of others and unpleasant incidents as short-term events that do not deserve much of attention. When someone is mad at him he just smiles lightly, explains himself and, oh god, actually tries to get another person’s point of view.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

While his mind is always occupied with unnecessary stuff, Matt manages to remember about half of what you told him. Most of his knowledge comes from endless online chats, jokes, and memes, common interests, and (who thought!) numbers. He is especially good at remembering anniversaries and it flatters his vanity a lot.

To maintain a never-forgetting-boyfriend reputation Matt keeps in touch with your mutual friends and acquaintances. When he needs to clarify something he’ll reach to the most suitable candidate who will answer the questions but also won’t ruin surprise with their long tongue.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The night he broke down and cried. Just sent his ps-controller flying across the room and covered his eyes, and tears started to roll down his cheeks. Soothing words of the loved one made him shake even more vigorous because the connection between them never felt so strong. Matt didn’t have to hide anything from them. There was no need to keep on a happy face 24/7. He squeezed them in his arms like there was no tomorrow and never ever forgot this moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Despite the wild life that was supposed to teach Matt to adequately assess the danger of outside world, he remains as laid-back as always. He assures loved one that no matter what happens he will be all right. And they will be all right too. He believes they both can just slip away from any unpleasant situation and there is no reason to be overprotective. Yes, for someone associated with Mafia, Matt feels way too frivolous.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The exact opposite of Mello. The more time passes, the more confident he grows in his feelings and it shows in the way he expresses it. When it comes to presents Matt chooses hand-made mess over expensive shiny but lifeless gifts. His fingers are glued together and sequins on the nose emphasize bags under the eyes but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, actually, because Matt finally wrote their name in cursive just the way he wanted to. For the anniversary there is huge box waiting for them, filled with candies, candles, discs, photos, short notes, and every little bauble he could think of. No doubt he stands right beside the person with puppy eyes, evaluating their reaction.

Dates aren’t big of a deal. He leaves date plans up to them since he doesn’t care what to do while it is with them. If they specifically ask for Matt’s ideas he will think about it for 5-10 minutes and then suggest first thing Google search gives him. Pray to God it’s not a DIY in 5 minutes because he will try it too.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Matt has a strong tendency to justify people when they obviously do not deserve it. Maybe this is not entirely conscious, but he ignores red flags until everything falls apart. He doesn’t see a pattern here and how all these people are alike so cycle repeats again and again.

Sometimes you have to worry. Sometimes circumstances oblige you to stop brushing off your problems. That’s not a case with Matt tho. To solve problems with a sober head, cool mind, yes, this is amazing, but the keyword is to s o l v e which he may completely ignore. Being laid-back dude is a talent but it shouldn’t be taken to the point of “if I close my eyes, maybe, it will go away”.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Well, let’s say his style leaves much to be desired. I can see his closet being full of the same type of clothes in approximately similar faded colors. No patterns, no game of textures, it’s just plain. Those goggles with amber-tinted lenses are one of two pairs Matt owns. The other one is similar to famous Kurt Cobain glasses and he keeps them for ironic purpose.

Matt never used any creams even when his skin resembled tree bark. Tobacco smoke can cause dryness of lips so you can expect his being chopped and covered in small cracks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You cannot tell it from his face but deep down he is devastated. People notice his silent thoughtfulness, lingering daydreaming. Hours spent in games grow an alarming rate as well as his expenses on cigarettes. A lot of time has to pass by before he goes back to his old self.

If they left for any reason Matt accepts it and tries to remain their friend. He knows there should be a pause in their relationship to establish new boundaries and stop perceive each other as… lovers. But he can’t stay away.

If they died both related and unrelated to Kira case, Matt seems to disengage from everything except helping Mello and videogames. His brain freezes in white noise and repetitive actions keeping him going like a programmed robot. Months later, he promises to get well because this is exactly what they would want for him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Matt likes to smoke devil lettuce once in a while to clear his head or fog it completely. However, he doesn’t like to drink at all. His organism reacts poorly to alcohol and nausea rises to the throat before he can feel any kaif. Once Matt made a huge mistake (read – decided to get drunk with Mello): it ended up with Mello roaming around the city aimlessly for two days while Matt was almost chained to the bathroom because… well, he didn’t feel very well. In the end of the day they suffered a small loss: Mello lost his golden chain he never really liked and Matt lost the urge to drink forever.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

There is excess of negativity in this world already so if the only thing person is going to do is to complain, he will slowly push them out of his life. Cancelling plans, ignoring massages, hanging up early in the calls and, finally, he will disappear from their life like he was never there.

Boring people. It doesn’t mean person has to be into craziest stuff, you can be interested at knitting and present your hobby as the most interesting thing in the whole universe. Problem arises when person fails to show their passion.

Arrogance makes Matt yawn. It usually comes with qualities such as duplicity, hypocrisy, and he is not buying it. He is simple guy and feels uncomfortable around those who put on a brass face.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

His sleeping hours vary from 45 minutes to 14 hours per day and you never know what tomorrow will bring. It depends on many factors, but mostly on whether he has any work next day and if there are any upcoming games that he was waiting for so patiently.

Matt knows how to sleep anywhere and anyhow, even in standing position with hands crossed. His ability to fall asleep in 0.5 second is something Mello is envious of. Also, he can sleep with loud TV on the background, dogs barking, and Mello yelling at someone at the same time. It’s honestly a superpower.

The mere fact that somebody is sleeping next to him (it doesn’t have to be a loved one) gives him a feeling of serenity. If they sleep under the same blanket, he without a doubt will steal it.

[ralexsol]

On the Subject of Underverse S2

You read that correctly: this is a post about one of the greatest shows ever created, the Undertale animated series Underverse, written/animated by @jakei95​. I have a lot of theories that I’ve been pulling together ever since I watched both Underverse and Xtale (the Underverse prequel series). Maybe one or two have no basis in anything, but for some reason they popped into my head and I’ll stick by them until they’re proven incorrect. I will discuss the possibility of a Geno/Ink fight, Fresh!Ink, XI (you’ll definitely want to read their section!), and the fates of many different characters. This is quite the long post, so buckle up for a long ride.

Let’s begin!

GENO/INK FIGHT:

I’m putting this theory first because it is the least important. At some point in time, I somehow got it into my head that there is supposedly going to be a fight between Geno and Ink. I have no idea where I heard about this, and when I searched for any specific videos or posts about the subject, I found nothing. But I personally think a fight scene between Geno and Ink would be pretty cool, so I’m adding this in here.

FRESK!INK’S EXISTANCE:

This is a more relevant theory. Ever since Jakei announced that Fresh!Ink would be a part of Underverse, I have wondered how he would be incorporated. I don’t know if she means for him to be in the future “Beach Episode” or something more serious. (Of course, I know almost nothing about this supposed “Beach Episode”, which is apparently when Epic!Sans will be showing up, so I really wouldn’t know.) But there is an important thing to remember: Ink and Fresh made a deal in the first season.

Ever since I saw this Underverse - Xtra Scene 2, I have wondered what this “prize” could possibly be. What was Ink’s side of the deal? What did he promise Fresh? Hmm... maybe a new body to take over?

Ink’s body doesn’t have a SOUL- that’s basic “Undertale AU Knowledge 101″. What does this have to do in regards to Fresh? To my best knowledge, the actual parasitic creature True!Fresh feeds off the souls of other creatures to survive. In fact, his soul-feeding would kill his victims if he stayed long enough in one body, but he likes to play it safe and leave his victims alive in case he needs to use their body again. But he wouldn’t need to do this with Ink. Because of Ink’s SOULless nature, Fresh could theoretically feed off his body forever. Some might object that since Ink doesn’t have a SOUL, Fresh wouldn’t be able to feed off him. But then how does Fresh!Ink exist?

So, what was their deal? Fresh watches over the Xtale AU while Ink is gone, and after Cross and X!Chara are taken care of, Ink comes back and lets Fresh take over his body for a little while. There may be something else I’m missing, but the pieces seem to make sense.

XI’S PURPOSE:

For those of you who don’t know who XI is, I suggest you watch this video about Jakei’s Overwrite merch. This is when the character of XI was introduced to us, back on good ol’ April 1st, 2019. Haha, yes, the joke character of XI- funny April Fool’s Day video, a good laugh for everyone. Jakei has made a few comics about XI since then, but overall, XI hasn’t been involved in Xtale or Underverse so far. That has never sat right with me, and I’ve always thought there would be something more to him. I was proven absolutely correct when Xtale - The Movie came out. But before we discuss the little extra scene tagged onto the end of that video, I would like to point out some very interesting facts about XI.

On October 6th, 2019, Jakei posted a traditional speedart. Obviously, the art is gorgeous like always and every time I watch it I wonder if I will ever get to the level of skill she is at. But besides that, there is a very important aspect about this video. In the speedart, Jakei drew two pictures: one of X!Chara and X!Frisk fighting, and one of XI. In XI’s picture, they are depicted in full armor with a magical purple sword & shield.

Hmmm... I wonder who this could possible resemble?

Every time XI is shown, whether it be in comics or artwork, their bangs hang over their eyes. Their armor looks exactly like Kris’s from Deltarune. Heck, they both use a sword and a shield! What does this mean? XI is X!Kris. There is no way to deny this. This is why they are X!Chara’s and X!Frisk’s little sibling. I would also like to point out XI’s silver oval locket. I find it interesting how he has a different piece of jewelry from everyone else- all other important characters in Xtale have a matching golden heart locket. Does XI also have people he has given copies of this necklace to? Perhaps X!Susie and X!Ralsei, if they exist? But XI being X!Kris is only the beginning of this theory. Remember how I mentioned Xtale - The Movie earlier? Take a look at this picture.

This is a five-second frame pegged at the very end of the video, after an entry written in wingdings by Mister XGaster himself. The message is as follows:

Entry Number Eleven: As clear as a reflection in a mirror, I have found the most perfect projection of forbidden visions. Get ready. Your time is coming.

Okay, just whoa. Not only is the entry #11, but the person standing there is XI. Oh, and let’s take a closer look at what they’re holding in their hand.

I knew that silver locket was going to be important. There is no way that XI is not going to play a major part in either Underverse S2 or hmm... maybe a spin-off about the Xtale versions of Deltarune characters? To my knowledge, Jakei has not said anything about her plans after she finishes Underverse. She has her Metadora project, and I am aware that her husband @nyxtheshield​ is planning out his own Undertale series- someone will need to animate that, and I’m sure she would be able and willing to do the job. She has stated that there will be no seasons of Underverse after S2, and the finale will be 1.0. But that doesn’t mean she won’t make a new series. If she does, will it be about all the Deltarune characters? Will the other Xtale characters show up at certain points in it? Will XGaster play a large part in it? There is no way to know, as the idea of a new show is simply drawn from that there may not be enough time in S2 to fully expand what XI is.

In any case, XGaster states in the entry that “your time is coming”. This could either reference a new show or XI’s appearance in Underverse. I find it extremely interesting how XGaster words his message. “The most perfect projection of forbidden visions.” What does that mean exactly? XGaster has seen something in one of his many visions, obviously. The most perfect image of prohibited sights. XI is a person that stands for something that should not be allowed to exist. That makes sense- XGaster, a man, somehow got pregnant and birthed them, as shown in the Overwrite merch video. The “forbidden visions” might imply that he has seen something quite “cursed”, as us modern Internet-users would say. But then he tells this projection to get ready, because their time is coming. XGaster is telling XI to prepare themself. This just proves that XI and XGaster are tied together very closely, and that if XI does get their own series with X!Ralsei and X!Susie, XGaster will be involved.

Whew! That’s a lot of information to take in all at once. This was the big “theory” I wanted to discuss, so now we will move on to the different fates I believe may befall some of our beloved characters.

INK, FOR GOOD OR FOR WORSE?:

Ah, Ink. One of the true protagonists of Underverse. Remember: a protagonist is not necessarily a hero, just one of the leading characters. It has been seen that his story arc is the most important throughout the entire story. He is the one that inspired XGaster. He is the one that made XGaster’s plan succeed. And he very well might be the one to make it fail.

Wait, you’re asking me. I thought he was on XGaster’s side? What do you mean he will make it fail?

I didn’t want to address whether Ink was going to stick with XGaster or flip until a certain song was posted by Nyx two days ago on December 5th, “Soulless Heart”. If you haven’t listened to it yet, go ahead and click that link because the song is beautiful and absolutely necessary to continue on with this theory! The song is the Underverse 0.5 Ending Theme, and guess who it’s about? You guessed it, our good old buddy chum pal Ink. I’ve been listening to it on repeat since it came out, and it really is incredible. (Nyx, if you’re somehow reading this, I would like to personally congratulate you, because not only is the music amazing but mwah! Your voice is a joy, and I would not have any other singer do the vocals.) But the most important thing about the song is the lyrics. Here’s the first verse.

How long have I been longing

to be free and not broken

in this ocean of hollowness?

I don’t want to be forgotten.

Instantly, the lyrics hit you hard. This is about Ink, though, so you can’t expect anything less. Essentially, the song is about the emptiness that Ink feels without a SOUL. This goes along with one of his main aspects in Underverse. The only reason why he worked with XGaster to make sure XGaster’s game worked was so he could feel more emotions. As a chaotic neutral character, Ink literally only cares about himself and his personal goals. But what is interesting about this song is that he addresses the pain he has caused.

Sacrificial lambs

laid upon my path

now are broken worlds

killed by senseless wrath.

Ink knows that he has hurt people. I mean, in the present timeline when 0.5 is to be set, Ink’s actions just caused Error to literally “pull the plug” and destroy all the AUs. (Although, how many AUs were actually destroyed is impossible to determine, because there are still multiple Sanses that will be incorporated into S2 that were residing in their AUs at the time of their supposed destruction.) Ink knows that this is his fault. And now that XGaster has won, Ink will be receiving all those emotions he wanted! In the S2 teaser, which was released on the original Underverse 0.5 release date (the episode was unfortunately delayed due to issues with Nyx’s distributor, RouteNote), shows something very important.

Look at those vials in his hand. Those aren’t just colored vials. Well, they are, but their colors are especially important. Look at their specific colors: orange, yellow, and amber. Previously, Ink’s vials have been seen as very straightforward: roy g biv, that sort of thing.

You have one or maybe two variations, although in this picture there seems to be about four different aqua vials. But there certainly isn’t an amber vial. This goes to show that XGaster followed through on his promise, and Ink has a lot more variations in his color-coded emotion vials. The obvious conclusion from this is that he can feel a lot more things than he thought was possible- including guilt. With his newfound feelings, he could realize that what he did wasn’t just wrong, it was horrible. He might start to blame himself for getting all the AUs destroyed, which in turn might result in a betrayal of XGaster. With his emotions, he would become a real good person. But ultimately, without XGaster’s Overwrite abilities, Ink’s new emotions will fade and he will return to be the same old Ink as before. He will no longer understand why he sacrificed his emotions, and the cycle will start anew. Ink will never be truly happy, because being happy will always mean the suffering of others.

Or, Ink will stick with XGaster. It would be the same fate, after all; if the heroes defeat XGaster, Ink will still lose those emotions. This, though, might leave him feeling bitter and even more willing to do anything to get what he wants, which could potentially lead to him becoming a real villain. Perhaps XGaster isn’t the final boss of Underverse. Maybe the one to start everything will be the one to finish everything.

XGASTER AND UT!GASTER:

This wouldn’t be a real theory post without discussing our favorite fanfiction writer, would it? And yes, XGaster is literally a fanfiction writer. He has symptoms of OCD concerning the world-building of his universe and he just loves to add as much angst as humanly (or monsterly) possible. It just so happens that he lives in his own created universe, so his creations have the pleasurable chance at getting revenge.

Now, there are obviously two ways that Underverse can go: XGaster succeeds, or XGaster fails. This doesn’t necessarily mean that this will be the ending of S2. As I mentioned above, perhaps XGaster will be defeated at the end of 0.9 and 1.0 will be about everyone trying to stop Ink from taking the Overwrite SOUL for his own, I don’t know. In any case, I don’t really have anything to discuss about XGaster specifically, but I am pretty sure I know what his last scene will be if he happens to lose.

It is shown in the Underverse S2 Prologue - Owners that XGaster and UT!Gaster spent a lot of time together in the Void between the events of Xtale and Underverse. Not only do they hold an entire conversation together in Owners, but in Underverse 0.1 when Sans is hit in the head with a ball, he has a vision of the two of them standing together.

In XGaster’s and UT!Gaster’s conversation in Owners, UT!Gaster tells XGaster that he will fail in his quest for perfection. XGaster brushes him off because he’s an egotistical prick, yadda yadda. But this conversation is important because I believe it will parallel the ending of XGaster’s quest. In the end, UT!Gaster will approach his old Void-buddy and tell him to just give up on his pointless venture. XGaster will turn to dust after saying something like, “I will never give up”, and then we have Ink going on a rampage. That’s pretty much all I have to say on them, but I thought it would be worth adding.

DREAM AND NIGHTMARE:

Lastly, we have the brothers. As with XGaster and UT!Gaster, I don’t have much to add with them. But I do believe they will both play a major role in S2. They will be the overseers of the battle to come. Out of all the characters in the Undertale fandom, they are the most omnipotent. They are the protectors of the Tree of Feelings, which is one of three trees to give the Multiverse life. In Underverse 0.4, when X!Chara accused Nightmare of “watching us all this time as if we were part of a show”, Nightmare responded by saying:

Of course, Nightmare mostly means himself, Error, and Ink. Dream is much more active in helping people be happy, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t on the same god-tier level as his brother. Dream could sit back and watch the world tick, but he chooses not to because that goes against his morals.

In other words, Dream and Nightmare will probably affect the outcome of Underverse more than any other characters. They’re both pissed about what Error did: all those people that Dream cared about were murdered, and Nightmare can no longer generate negative feelings from innocents. They both have invested interest in this Multiverse war now, and their powers will certainly come to the forefront.

I believe that at the end of the story, the Multiverse will essentially go back to the exact way it was before Xtale was invented. XGaster will be dead, the Xtale characters will be put back in their AU, the other AUs will be restored, and at the end of it all, Dream and Nightmare will be once again pitted against one another. We may even see an alliance between them during Underverse S2 to stop XGaster, but afterwards, they will reestablish their rivalry. Unless the Omega Timeline comes into play, which it very well might, I don’t see the two brothers reconciling.

CONCLUSION:

Thank you everyone who took the agonizingly long time to read this! I hope this shed some light on certain characters (especially XI) and encourages to make some of your own theories. Stay safe and good night!

[babysprouseisart]

My eyes are buening everytime i come across your blog...stop posing diagnostic for real people and take care of your obsession issues

Oh, damn what a vile person I am... ...except that I've never diagnosed anyone, it's not my prerogative, it's not my business and I'm nobody in this world to do it. 

If you saw on my feed something related to diagnoses and health - it most likely was not from my mouth, but I could have just kept someone's posts to myself, because in general I agree with the opinion, or almost everything. Sometimes I close my eyes to some phrases or expressions, do not take some little things into account. 

Also, if you use common sense and think abstractly, in general terms, you can draw certain conclusions about the state of a particular person. You don't have to be a professional. Even an inexperienced doctor or a simple person understands simple signs, cause a lot of this is taught even in school, especially first aid for any manifestations. 

And what's more, I understand perfectly well that it is wrong to draw conclusions without seeing a person nearby, without touching him/her, without being with him/her for some time. The Internet does not fully reflect reality, maybe even practically does not reflect the actual reality at all, and to believe pictures or random coincidences is wrong. But I also do not rule out the fact that there are hypotheses, assumptions, guesses, whatever they may be, and if you are afraid to assume or put forward theories, you think that this is utter nonsense and is the shame or the sin - this is on you. 

Just remember that many discoveries were based on the first assumptions, people did not touch, for example, the Moon or the Sun, did not see the location of the planets, did not see God or Allah, but still a lot of us believe, there are a thousand assumptions in religion, science, fiction and other things, and there is nothing wrong with this and with moderate speculation that does not harm people, phenomena, that are discussed, especially popular ones. Especially, when neither I nor the other people, whose posts I share, publish any materials about diagnoses, do not claim one hundred percent or share with the tags, do not leak anything personal, do not mock, nothing, just discuss the probabilities and the consequences of these probabilities.

I am an adequate person, I was never going to poke someone in the face with my guesses, I am just an independent observer, I look, read, take into account the objective and subjective side, weigh it, analyze, make mistakes, analyze again and draw my own conclusions, express my opinions, or just keep those posts that seemed to me personally correct in one way or another, purely theoretically, according to assumptions. Sometimes, I admit, I can take things on faith, frivolously, without understanding, and only then I think, consult and see what others think, discuss and form my opinion, decision, but nothing is perfect and nothing can be done perfectly, and we all have the right to make mistakes.

A little off topic, but the point is that in case if we do not take into account the mention of a particular diagnosis or whatever it was, I share what I think makes sense, even if half of it is speculation, if I think it is necessary to share something - I share. 

I am a very flexible person in this regard, today I think this way, tomorrow differently, depending on how much argument, facts I see. The more it seems to me that this is at least part of the truth the more is the the probability that I can agree, and I can not agree, if it seems to me too harsh or too vague. 

This is my blog, I publish or save what I think is acceptable in any way. And honestly, firstly, so much depends on perception, it's the Internet, how many people so many views, opinions, and secondly, not everything I can post, or do reblog is a reflection of my feelings, we all carry some kind of image on the Internet anyway, although I try to be fair and equitable. There are situations where people are clearly trying to assert something, are incredibly sure of it, but I often doubt and don't think the same as they do and would never have thought in the first place, although I take it calmly because I can imagine this situation and keep in mind a big IF, what means that in certain conditions if it turned out to be true I would accept this point of view. You can disagree with me or with the people I talk to, or from who I reblog posts. But, why come to so regularly if you are so infuriated? If you think it's your duty to poke me like a kitten in a poop and tell me I'm wrong? If you are not indifferent to the topic, agree or not, express an opinion, and not just like that. I don't understand this logic.

So, to come here, and unreasonably dust me with your poison without understanding anything, without knowing me as a person, making your own conclusions and believing that I am obsessed, is not worth it. You will still be rejected.

I don't care how poisonous your words are, I am a free person and I do what I want, how I want and where I want, except for the forbidden and violating the freedoms and rights of other people. 

I don't know, maybe when I grow up, because I'm only 17 years old, maybe I'll think very differently, speak differently or something, but I'm sure that I won't be like you, or one of a lot of people like you, like poisonous snake.

I'm sorry, but today is not your day. At least you were good at not being anonymous, thank you for that, I really appreciate it, so it will be easier for me to find you the next annoying time when I'm in a bad mood and will be going to block you. Do me a favor, go away, and don't come back here again without a good reason. Have a nice day, don't slip on your own bile on the way back!

[phantomonabudget]

I want to learn how to play the violin, but I am an adult. Do you think it is possible? What would you recomend for a beginner?

As an adult beginner violinist, I know it’s absolutely possible!  Here are some very good things to do as a beginner:

1.  Find a good teacher!  Some people think it’s possible to teach themselves to play violin, but as an accomplished pianist/clarinetist, I would not be anywhere near where I am now if I didn’t have a teacher.  The violin is a highly nuanced instrument and in my opinion, it’s impossible to teach yourself (to play well, anyway...anyone can scratch out some tunes on their own).  A knowledgeable teacher will be able to get you started off with correct technique, a plan that will help build your confidence, and can correct minor issues before they become huge problems.  Online lessons are okay if you don’t have any good teachers near you, but I highly recommend having in-person lessons at least for the first few months (COVID-19 restrictions allowing, of course).  It’s easier to demonstrate and correct technique issues in person, trust me. If you go to your local luthier (violin maker) shop, they should have a list of local teachers and you just start calling or emailing to see who is available and what sort of style you want to learn (classical violin?  Fiddle/folk music?  etc).  Most luthier websites usually have a link to local violin/fiddle teachers as well.  Definitely do get the advice of the luthier when it comes to looking for a good, qualified teacher.  They know everyone.

2.  DO NOT BUY A VIOLIN OFF AMAZON.  Do. Not.  There are a lot of “violin shaped objects” (VSOs) on Amazon and other online resources that are poor excuses for violins (poor quality materials, bad mass assembly, etc).  While the price tags are attractive, VSOs will make it more difficult for you to learn how to play.  They are more difficult to get a good sound out of, which can destroy your confidence.  As you progress, they will start holding you back pretty quickly, which only prevents you from enjoying the practicing.

3.  Do consider renting a quality instrument before you buy.  This isn’t completely necessary, but many luthiers will have a rent-to-buy option (violin, bow, case, whole outfit).  Renting a violin for a few months is a great idea because you can try it out and see if you’re going to like the whole violin thing (the practice, the lessons, the frustration, the highs and lows) before you fully commit to an instrument.  Discover it’s not for you?  That’s ok, just turn the violin back in and walk away.  You can usually rent a good quality student violin for not much money, and if you end up loving it and can apply that rental equity toward the purchase price, that’s a good deal!  Most decent student violins run from $300-800.  You certainly don’t need an $800 violin to start, but that luthier should have something affordable and a good, playable quality that you will enjoy.  They will also be able to set you up with the whole outfit (bow, case, rosin, accessories) and show you exactly what to do with each of those items.  Local luthiers are gold and definitely are worthy of your support.

4.  It’s a marathon, not a sprint.  Embrace the journey.  Many feel that it takes several years to get just to a “proficient” level as a violinist.  If you’re hoping to play concertos or some slick fiddle tunes in a matter of months, or even two years, you’re looking at the wrong hobby.  If you’re willing to invest a couple years into this and learn to enjoy the work and the journey along the way, you’ll love this.  If you’re in a hurry to get to a certain level, you’re bound to be frustrated and quit.

5.  Have realistic expectations.  Is it too late to learn violin as an adult?  Heck no!!  Is it too late to become a world-renown concert soloist?  Probably.  I’ve seen some fellow adult beginners achieve some very impressive levels in only a few years, but if you’re expecting to make this a profession at this point, you’re too late.  However, there’s plenty of time to learn and get to a point where you enjoy playing the instrument, maybe join an amateur orchestra or group and enjoy some jam sessions.  Know why you’re doing this, and maintain realistic expectations on your violin journey.

6.  You will sound bad at first.  It’s okay.  Trust me, everyone sounds TERRIBLE at first and it’s fine!  Go slow, don’t put too much pressure on yourself, and celebrate those little wins!

7.  Maintain a regular practice schedule.  There’s a certain comfort that comes from a routine.  Most people say that practicing an hour (or more) a day whenever possible is best (have a rest day each week).  But even if an hour isn’t possible, even 20 minutes a day is better than nothing.  Make practice happen whenever you can, and you’ll see results!

8.  Find what works for you.  With the help of a teacher and/or luthier, you should be able to find an arrangement/setup for your violin that fits you best.  If you have a longer neck, you will probably need a shoulder rest and/or a higher chinrest to prevent an uncomfortable position for you when holding the violin.  For others, shoulder rests make things worse, and some people prefer certain shaped chinrests over others.  This takes time to figure out and your preferences may change as you go.  If you feel tension in your neck/shoulder/arm, it might be a technique problem or you may need to change something in your set up (or both).  Experienced help will assist you in determining what will ultimately work best so that you are comfortable and happy when playing.

9.  Stay positive!  This is a very challenging but super rewarding endeavor!  As I said above, celebrate little wins, little improvements.  Nailed a smooth bow change?  Finally kept the bow straight?  Played your first scale in tune?  Awesome!!  Make those little wins mean a lot because you will have frustrating practices and lessons, and it’s good to have some victories to celebrate.  :)

10.  HAVE FUN!  I’m having a blast, this has been a dream of mine for a long time and I’m finally pursuing it.  I hope if you decide to try it that you enjoy the ride!

Feel free to message me back if you have additional questions.  If you tell me more about your musical experience I can offer more tailored advice too.  Good luck and let me know if you decide to give it a shot!  :)

[artificialqueens]

Daybreak over Manhattan (Scyvie) - Phryne

A/N: Long time, no see AQ! I’m finally back after putting DOPS on a slight hiatus to work on Ficmas and this fic right here. It’s a coffee shop au with some cute fluffy bits, a little angst, and that classic DOPS humor (I hope) we all love. 

Also thank you to @scarletenvynyc for being incredible throughout the whole writing process and encouraging me to see this fic through, and to @artificialmeggie for being the most incredible beta. 

Enjoy!

Word Count: 13K

***

Yvonne Bridges tugged at the collar of her tan trench coat in vain, trying to shield her neck from the mounting October wind. It was cooler in the mornings, though she didn’t mind it. In fact she quite enjoyed it. It was the time of year when the sun was just peeking over the horizon as she flew down the steps of the subway stop a few blocks from her apartment, and was fully bright, making her reflection golden and stretching in the skyscraper windows she passed, when she arrived at her first stop before work: the Starbucks. 

It was part of her morning routine, which she followed religiously. She arrived at the same time nearly every morning, buttoned the bottom two buttons of her pantsuit jacket while waiting at the register, placed the same order, checked her emails in silence while standing at the counter, waiting about about the same amount of time—it was a fairly empty store around six a.m.—and then left, heading on her way to work, fully prepared to handle her caseload, no matter what her boss would throw at her. 

It was comforting to see her usual barista Brooke and follow through the same thoughtless exchange. She only learned her name when she broke away from routine a couple months ago to study the barista. Brooke wore her hair wound up in a tight bun near the nape of her neck, her hair perpetually shiny and well placed. She wrote her name on her tag in all capital letters. It was severe. It was pointed. So was she. 

Brooke began each conversation with ‘hello’ and a nod. Yvonne replied ‘tall triple latte, blueberry muffin’ and pulled up the Starbucks app, her phone raising to a blinding brightness as she brought up her card. Brooke pressed a few buttons and said ‘seven seventy-four.’ Yvonne scanned her phone. Brooke nodded and therefore Yvonne moved to the side. They said a total of nine words to one another, each day the same nine words. It had been long enough that she shouldn’t have to explain her daily order to Brooke, but they weren’t feigning the closeness of friendship over ordering coffee, so they continued on with their nine word exchange, over and over until Brooke wasn’t there anymore. 

And on that October day, when Yvonne came in from the whipping wind, smoothing down her collar and adjusting her grip on her well-worn leather briefcase, the sunlight pouring in from the windows behind her, brushing against the back of her exposed neck, warming her so deliciously, so palpably, she was taken aback. 

“Welcome to Starbucks! What can I do you for this mornin’?” 

The voice was warm, like a well blended whisky settling in her belly, though it felt grating after what had to be years of Brooke’s cool, monotone voice. This voice belonged to a woman with brunette hair clipped back haphazardly, shorter strands escaping to graze across her sharp cheekbones, full from the smile she spoke with. 

The first thing Yvonne thought was that she couldn’t be from here, that was for sure. If the voice didn’t give it away, the exasperated joy at six a.m. did, the way she went about beaming at strangers like she had no good reason to save a grin that wide for a more special occasion did. She had to be new to the city—new enough to believe in the magic of Manhattan and all the people in it. 

Yvonne would scoff, but it would be quite difficult to scoff at the sun itself, and she thought that assumption applied here. She didn’t think she was bitter enough to scoff at joy incarnate appearing in front of her, wearing a leopard print cardigan and a soft pink t-shirt under her apron. 

“Where’s Brooke?” she asked, diverting the new barista’s question. “She’s always here in the morning.”

The barista finally broke from her incessant grinning, looking almost softer, more real, though Yvonne could now see the harshness of her jaw, the delicate point of her nose. She looked like a sculpture. She let out a weighted sigh. 

“Brooke got cast in some dance thing.” The barista drummed her fingers on the counter, pondering. “Like a group thing. I think she’s got some kind of team?” 

Yvonne put her phone down, the words still sounding off. More off than the prospect of Brooke not taking her order anymore. “A team?” 

“No, I guess that makes it sound like sports, huh?” The barista exhaled a light laugh, nothing more than an airy, thin laugh. “Like a ballet team. A posse? A gang?” She rambled on, somehow still holding Yvonne’s attention with each iteration of team, as though her words had a grip on Yvonne. 

“I don’t know,” she ended decisively. “But she got cast.” A little snort. Definitely a little miffed, which seemed understandable. 

The barista blew some hair out of her face before snapping back into her original sunny disposition. “Brooke quit yesterday, so now I have the opening shift,” she said. “I’m Scarlet.” And then she pointed to her name tag, her index finger highlighting how she wrote Scarlet in cursive, wide, looping letters, with little stars drawn around them. Yvonne couldn’t help but notice the stark difference between Scarlet and Brooke’s tags. And the difference seemed quite fitting. 

So Yvonne nodded, hoping to let that information pass, maybe even establish the same routine with this Scarlet, though it seemed unlikely with all the talking they had done already, which had to have passed her and Brooke’s nine word conversations. 

“Okay. Tall triple latte, blueberry muffin.” Yvonne said, watching her rapidly input on the register, tacking on “please,” as though it were necessary to be more polite to her—she didn’t know Yvonne’s routine yet. 

“Oh that sounds so good,” Scarlet replied. “I would kill to have a triple tall latte right now.” 

Yvonne couldn’t let what had to be Scarlet’s standard reply to an order hang limply between them. It all happened without her knowledge, the words firing from her brain and out her mouth, landing between them before she even knew it. 

“You’re telling me you haven’t had any coffee yet? And you’re like this?” Yvonne gestured lightly, now gripping her phone. “I’ve had no coffee and I’m like this.” She gestured down herself. Her exhausted self really — though exhaustion was a constant enough state that she learned how to look like it wasn’t. 

Scarlet laughed. And yes, it was a laugh directed at Yvonne’s thoughtless reply. It wasn’t even a joke. But nonetheless the laugh registered as authentic for a barista laugh. There was an appropriate lightness to it, enough to note it as actually funny but too much. Not enough to let Yvie know she was so unfunny that she warranted fake laughter from this poor barista. 

“You’re funny, even for this early,” Scarlet reassured. She uncapped her Sharpie and took up the cup. “What’s the name for the order, funny lady?” 

Her throat was tight. “Yvonne.” 

Scarlet nodded and wrote on the cup, setting it aside, ringing Yvonne up, and holding up the scanner for her phone. She stepped to the side, expecting the transaction to be finished. She didn’t expect Scarlet to tell her to “have a good morning” after the fact, and the elongated pleasantries left her floundering. She checked her emails, hoping to bring about a sense of normalcy. 

“Yvie. Latte and blueberry muffin for Yvie,” another barista called out. He glanced around, noting only Yvonne and an older man in a windbreaker and running tights in the store. 

Yvonne continued sorting through emails, adding Silky’s ‘daily meme’ email to her spam folder.

“Order for Yvie.” The barista pointed at the muffin in the bag. The older man shook his head. 

“Yvonne,” Scarlet called over to her, now standing where the other barista stood, holding the same latte and muffin. “It’s your order, Yvie.” 

She should have been irritated by the nickname. Never in her adult life had she been called by a nickname — really, she didn’t think something as cutesy as Yvie could suit her. It sounded like a name for a well groomed Pomeranian, not a grown woman. 

But she nonetheless accepted her latte and muffin, finding herself glancing down at the way Scarlet wrote ‘Yvie’ in sprawling handwriting, the dot of the ‘i’ trailing off in her haste. It was endearing. 

Scarlet was quite endearing, and something she could get used to every day, she decided, walking past the window on her way to work, stealing another glance at Scarlet, only to find her waving goodbye, her fingers fluttering away. 

***

“Tall triple latte, blueberry muffin,” Yvie said, still buried in her phone. “Please.” 

Please had quickly become a part of her routine with Scarlet, as much as Yvie didn’t enjoy setting new routines. Through it didn’t feel correct to carry over the same practices with Brooke to Scarlet, especially when Scarlet always beamed back at her, especially when the October sunrise seemed to chase through the front windows to meet up with Scarlet, making her perpetual flush look warmer and the little frizzy hairs along her hairline look nearly blonde. It made the please deeply necessary, and therefore routine.

Scarlet pulled out a cup and wrote out Yvie’s name, chirping back, “the usual, got it,” before getting Yvie’s muffin from the case. 

Yvie continued typing away at her phone, feeling her face tighten and her brows thread together with no way of easing them. She scanned over the email from Silky, her coworker, with whom she was handling the Davenport case—a complex web of familial relations, undissolvable trusts, and heaps of old money. It was nearly all wrapped up, but Silky was now flip-flopping on their analysis for their client, A’keria. 

“What the fuck does this mean?” Yvie exhaled steam, rapidly typing back to Silky. 

Scarlet returned with the muffin, sliding it across the counter. “It’ll be $7.74.” 

Yvie groaned, swiping through Silky’s attachments from her last email. The message only said “please advise.” Yvie did not want to advise on what she’d already advised on for the past three months. 

“Capitalism, right?” Scarlet threw her hands up with a shrug. “But you still gotta pay, Yvie.” 

“Oh sorry.” Yvie pulled away, glancing up at Scarlet, looking more and more like a court jester with her puffy-sleeved shirt and exaggerated expression, as though she were on the set of I Love Lucy rather than behind the counter at Starbucks. She pulled up her app and Scarlet scanned her card. 

“What’s going on?” Scarlet printed the receipt, tore it off, and immediately threw it away. “You seem all tense today.” 

Today. Scarlet really did joke. “I’m a lawyer,” Yvie replied dryly, her voice gritting. Just thinking about Silky’s email made her grimace. “I’m always tense, Scarlet.” 

“Nuh uh,” Scarlet tutted back, clearly waging her bets and pressing further. She was a woman of nerve, that’s for sure, pressing at Yvie when she was in one of her moods. “You look more stressed than usual. I can see it in your face.” She held up her thumbs and index fingers perpendicular in front of her, making a frame for Yvie’s face, as though she were capturing a shot of the stress. 

Yvie gave in easily, turning her phone over on the counter, ignoring the email. She sighed. “Well, I have to go argue a big case. Like a big money case today. And my partner’s reconsidering our arguments like we haven’t been preparing our arguments for fucking months.” She let out a long exhale, meeting Scarlet’s intent gaze. “But whatever. I don’t want to just bitch to you about it.” 

Scarlet laughed, brushing her off with a flick of her hand. “Please. No one else is here.” She looked around at the nearly barren store, the lack of line behind Yvie, prompting Yvie to notice the same. “Bitch away, honey.” 

She walked on over to the espresso machine, released a hot spurt of steam from the wand, and grabbed a jug of milk from under the counter, then pointed at the stools that lined the counter opposite her. “Sit down and spill it.” 

And for no godly reason, by no logical means, Yvie felt compelled to do exactly that.  

“Also, Silky keeps this shit on her desk that I hate.” Yvie brushed her hair back. “Like she’s got this calendar of these hot firemen and their dalmations. And like, not to be gay, but I don’t get men and their dogs.” 

Scarlet peered up at Yvie while pouring the steamed milk over the espresso. Yvie broke her gaze, suddenly much more interested in flipping her phone over in her hands. 

“I’m more of a cat lady myself,” Scarlet replied easily, returning her attention to putting a lid on Yvie’s drink, scribbling something else on the side of it and sliding it over to her. Scarlet placed her elbows on the counter, leaning in on her hands, coming in closer. 

“Same.” Yvie took her drink, sticking a latte saver in it. “And she’s got a picture of Mr. Fuzznut on her desk—” 

“Who’s Mr. Fuzznut?” Scarlet could barely get it out without laughing. 

“Her dog. He’s a weiner dog. In the picture he’s wearing a wizard’s hat.” Yvie pulled up the picture and slid her phone over.

“Ugh.” Scarlet pushed it right back. She let her index finger rest against her cheek. “Why is she that way?”

“Beats me. I just listen to her talk about that dog and her men all—”

“Excuse me, miss?” A man in a suit called over from the register, the vein in his neck clearly throbbing from having to wait more than five minutes. He shouldn’t have even bothered with excuse me. “Can you take my order?” 

Scarlet tilted her head, staring blankly before snapping back into her usual cheer. 

“I gotta go anyway.” Yvie hitched her purse up her shoulder, readjusting the tuck of her silk button down into her gray trousers. “Big case and all,” she said, trailing off. 

“Of course. I’m sure it’ll—” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Yvie patted the counter before taking off, leaving Scarlet to tend to this customer, who did not care for waiting now six minutes to order his coffee and told Scarlet just as much as Yvie left, in what had to be a demeaningly measured tone. 

Yvie noticed a touch of feathering Sharpie poking out from under the coffee sleeve, which was peculiar, as Scarlet wrote ‘Yvie’ on the cup and checked all the proper boxes like usual, but this marking seemed new. Maybe she did something different to her coffee and had to check a different box, like adding or replacing something would help Yvie’s constant state of exhaustion and stress, like Scarlet the barista knew best. Usually knowing best referred to her ability to select muffins, as she picked through the muffins with her tongs to find Yvie what she assured was the ‘best muffin.’ ”It’s the one with the most blueberries, of course,” Scarlet once explained with a cartoonish wink as she stuck it into a bakery bag. 

Yvie took a swig of the now cooled coffee. Perfect, as always. 

She slid the sleeve down and her lips tugged into a smile. It said good luck!! In her same loopy handwriting. And she connected the exclamation points to make a smiley face. Under the sleeve just for her. 

Yvie took pause, considering that Scarlet really thought to put it under the sleeve instead of out in the open where she could easily see it. Maybe she did that because she knew Yvie would see it anyway. But then she would have just said something, no? Maybe it was under the sleeve so it wouldn’t look weird in court, this coffee cup with messages. She knew if Silky saw it, she’d have a field day — even though Yvie’s girlfriend literally worked feet away from them — spinning some story about Yvie’s secret barista admirer. Maybe Scarlet was just smart. 

It was possible that Scarlet the barista knew best. 

***

It was the morning of Halloween and Yvie’s thoughts were rampant and ecstatic. Namely, she was contemplating whether or not she should waste her good witch costume on Silky’s party and how rude it would be if she claimed food poisoning at the last minute, just to stay in and gobble fun-sized Snickers while watching Carrie. 

As she approached the counter, she saw Scarlet all giddy, her little clip-on witch’s hat flopping its pom-pom tip, her cream sweater adorned with sequined black cats catching the light as she shimmied around. 

“Happy Halloween, Yvie,” Scarlet said with a little clap before pressing down on the counter, sharing as though it were a well worn secret. “It’s my favorite holiday. I love it.” 

It surprised her a bit, hearing that Scarlet loved Halloween, though she seemed just as adamant as she did about the holiday, and looked far more festive than Yvie, who could only muster the festivity of an all black pantsuit. She didn’t look like one to enjoy the spooky season — Yvie could more easily picture her in a soft, pale pink sweater and jeans, stomping her boots around in leaves and enjoying spiced cider from an earthenware mug than reveling in the blood and gore of a slasher flick. 

Though it was a good surprise, a new image of Scarlet in the fall time for her to comb over at her leisure. 

“It’s mine too,” Yvie replied. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” 

Scarlet broke into a smirk, hand over her heart, laying in the slight twang of her accent. “Oh Yvie, what are you asking me?”

Yvie stopped dead, blood lying still in her body. She fiddled with her jacket. “I… I wasn’t…” 

“I’m just teasing, silly.” She brushed it off. “I gotta get my costume together and then my roommate, Pearl and I, we throw this big party. So we’ll have people over. I’m going as a devil.” She stuck two pointed fingers behind her head and giggled. 

Yvie laughed right back. It was a little absurd, thinking of Scarlet, with all her gentleness and joy, posing as the devil, in some sleek red thing, probably trying her absolute hardest to look cold and mean, though couldn’t possibly have a cold, mean bone in her body. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Scarlet startled her out of her thoughts, leaning in closer, Yvie following her lead. “Don’t tell my manager, but I invented a new Halloween drink.” 

“Oh?” Yvie didn’t know if she was more taken aback by the proposition of a new drink order, her willingness to accept it, or Scarlet’s closeness and how the fine hairs of her body stood at attention with every word. 

“Do you want to try it? It’s super cute.”

Of course it was super cute.

“It’s also a little unauthorized.” She quoted with her fingers. “Not as unauthorized as the first drink I tried to make, but still.”

Yvie pulled away slightly, her face willing itself to twist, but finding that she couldn’t, not with Scarlet already reaching for a cold cup from the stack next to her. And Yvie was not a fan of cold coffee, no not really, especially in late October, especially when it was barely over 30 degrees outside and she was in the same jacket she’d been wearing since the much warmer beginning of fall. Not with Scarlet already uncapping her Sharpie, preemptively doodling a pumpkin on the side of the cup, finishing it off with a curly stem sprouting from the top, just waiting to write ‘Yvie’ and seal the deal. 

So Yvie nodded and Scarlet rang her up for $5.04 and Yvie scanned her app and stepped off to the side, watching Scarlet take off, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at the back room before pumping some liquid into the cup and adding a bit of milk, pouring the mixture into the blender pitcher, and adding thick orange sauce to it. 

Yvie did not know or particularly like the idea of the blender. Or the thick orange sauce. She didn’t know how she was supposed to walk into the office with some kind of blended drink and be respected as an orator and a woman of law. Nonetheless, she trusted the decision, gaze trained on Scarlet, who added some more liquid and a scoop of ice and maybe something else into the blender, allowing it to pulverize the ice while she coated the side of the cup in a dripping, deep brown sauce, which pooled at the bottom. 

She was concentrated and swift, almost holding her breath as she poured the orange slush into the cup, careful not to mess up her design, smile tense as she topped it with whipped cream and a smattering of chocolate shavings that she found under the counter. 

“Here it is!” Scarlet placed the drink in front of her, using her elegant fingers to highlight each component, as though she were selling the drink to her on a home shopping network. “It’s a pumpkin spice frap with mocha sauce on the sides of the cup, whip, and chocolate shavings.” 

Yvie studied it for a moment. It was a very cute drink. 

Scarlet must have noticed Yvie’s quizzical look. “It’s Halloween because it’s orange and black and also it has pumpkin.” 

Yvie nodded, as though that answered some questions she had yet to form about the drink. 

“Try it.” Scarlet inched the drink forward. “I wanna see if you love it.” 

So she took a sip, the thick slurry like lead paint on her tongue. The pumpkin was combative with the chocolate, if she were putting it nicely. She swallowed, still finding the aftertaste of spice in the corners of her mouth, between her teeth. It was horrific—definitely a Halloween drink. 

But Scarlet was leaning on the counter, looking at her expectantly with her head resting in her balled fists, little witch hat flopping as she stirred while waiting for Yvie’s response. Usually, Yvie would have no problem bursting someone’s bubble; really, she did it for a living, and humility aside, she was quite good at it. But Scarlet looked so proud of herself and was so clearly excited over the drink, as much of a monstrosity it was. 

“It’s the cutest drink.” Yvie settled on, immediately rewarded by Scarlet bouncing around the prep area behind her, doing some kind of little dance that looked partially like a shimmy and partially like a medical emergency before coming back to the counter. 

“See? Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get it?” It wasn’t a question, it was just Scarlet excited to receive the compliment, and Yvie was happy to give it. 

“I am,” Yvie reassured her, slipping a sleeve over the drink to keep her hands warm from the frozen drink. And she was. She couldn’t bring herself to miss her latte, not when Scarlet was so pleased like this. She certainly couldn’t bring herself to remember her daily muffin, now absent from her hands.

And with that she left the store, absently taking another sip, immediately regretting the all-out assault she brought upon her taste buds for the second time that morning. She passed countless trash cans on the way into work, but on principle, couldn’t throw out Scarlet’s unauthorized special Halloween drink, even if it definitely qualified as a war crime, in her legal opinion. It would be far worse to throw out this piece of Scarlet’s joy. 

***

“Good morning, Yvie.” Scarlet began putting in her usual order—now that Halloween was over and Scarlet hadn’t had the time to come up with a comparably cute Thanksgiving drink—upon seeing Yvie enter the store.

However cheery Scarlet was, which was very, as per usual, she was incorrect in her assessment. It was not a good morning, and it likely would not be for a while, no matter how convincing Scarlet’s wholesome, toothy smile and strawberry red sweater were. She was not going to have a good morning and that was final.

“Actually, no muffin today.”

 Scarlet stood stiff as a board, grasping a muffin between her tongs, looking Yvie up and down. She was probably scanning over her to see if she was hurt, dying, hit her head — anything that would account for this sudden change in routine. All Scarlet could find would be a sad, brokenhearted lawyer requesting only a triple tall latte.

Scarlet finally stuck the muffin back into the case, her face still all screwed up like a lemon in a juicer, probably deep in contemplation.

 “Why don’t you want the muffin?” She returned to the register, making no moves to take it off the tab. “You’ve wanted a muffin every day for like a month and a half.”

 It was likely closer to two months, if Yvie really thought it through, thought back to when she started seeing Scarlet in the morning, when she thought back to the shock of her honeyed voice and her leopard print cardigan. It was exactly nine months and four days if she thought back to when she started getting a muffin every day.

“Well, I don’t want it anymore.” She could feel herself growing tighter, unable to fathom her stomach becoming any more tightly wound, any smaller than it had been since last night. 

Scarlet frowned. Fair. Yvie knew she was being harsh. “I’ll give it to you for free if you’d like.”

“No.” Yvie sighed, and allowed her thoughts to form sentences, gifting them to Scarlet, hoping to ease her tension.

“The muffin was for my girlfriend.”  Yvie shuffled her feet, back and forth over either side of the grout between the tiles. She stared at her hands. “And now I don’t have one of those, so I’m not going to get a muffin.”

She finally looked up again, only to find Scarlet’s flat lipped smile contrasting with her classic red lipstick. Only to find Scarlet’s downcast eyes, all blue and murky. Only to find Scarlet’s outstretched hand, laying on the counter, palm upwards, waiting for Yvie’s to join it, which she so thoughtlessly did.

Her palm was warm, so obviously softened by some kind of lotion, punctuated only by a few thin, plain stacked rings on her fourth finger. She curled her fingers around Yvie’s half smoothly, abruptly, and they just crested over the edge, Scarlet’s pale fingers with their short, blunt nails. And her thumb. How it rubbed the back of her hand. How it washed over her knuckles as though it could pull tension out of her. It could. Scarlet could. 

They stood this way for a moment, maybe more, with Yvie transfixed on their joined hands. And though she did not look up at Scarlet, though she could not tear herself away from the gentle palm under her own, she was sure Scarlet was looking at her the whole time, hoping against hope that she’d look up to meet her gaze. Yvie slipped her hand away.

 Scarlet nodded, the slightest dip of her sharp chin, and rang her up again.

 “I’m sorry.” It was weighted. It lay between them. Yvie didn’t want to pick it up. “That has to really hurt.”

 It did. And it was the best way Scarlet could have said it really. It did hurt. It was a dull ache between her ribs, something wet and scalding in her throat. It hurt. So, she nodded.

 “Would you like something from the bakery case? No extra charge.” Her voice was much lower now, as though they were words that needed to be spoken in the dark rather than a proposition about scheming her workplace out of one baked good.

 “Just the coffee.”

 But Scarlet was adamant. She already stood in front of the case with tongs in her hand again.

 “No really. On the house. Pick whatever you want,” she reassured, waving the tongs about to highlight the selection of pastries.

“Scar—”

“—And on God, you are not going to get a blueberry muffin.” She now pointed at Yvie, clamping her tongs a couple times, like a lobster snapping its claws. “That’s like the sad, drunk texting your ex of baked good selection and I can’t let you do that.”

Yvie laughed. She felt it warming her throat as Scarlet’s silly assertiveness made way for a return to her usual joy. That little smile, the crinkling of her eyes; she had to be pleased with herself. 

“No, really, I’ll pay for it.” She ceded all too easily, and upon further thought, far more willfully than she typically would, and for no apparent reason. She could analyze over and over, trying to figure out what did her in, if it was something about the joke Scarlet made, the tongs, the soft lights above both of them, breaking through the continual darkness outside, or maybe it was about Scarlet’s hand in hers and how her fingers ached for that touch again.

“Nope,” Scarlet said with a pop. “Just pick something.”

“Okay, a slice of that lemon cake.” Scarlet had the makings of a smirk spreading across her lips as she reached for a bag. “But Scarlet, please let me pay for it. I want to pay for it.” 

Scarlet placed the bag on the counter, quickly uncapping her Sharpie and writing “Yvie” on the bag, making a smiley face out of the curve of the “Y”

“Yvonne,” Scarlet admonished, setting her Sharpie down, catching her attention, refusing to allow her to draw away. “I’m not taking your sad, just dumped money. You’re just gonna take this free lemon cake.” She slid the bag over, practically pushing it against her hand.

So Yvie paid for her coffee, and as Scarlet turned away to place her cup on the line, Yvie reached into her purse, pulled out a fist full of crumpled ones and stuffed them in the tip jar. And as Scarlet caught her red-handed, Yvie pointed down at the jar and then at Scarlet, with a chuckle, and Scarlet rolled her eyes.

She wasn’t just going to accept a completely free slice of lemon cake without Scarlet getting something out of it. She didn’t need lemon cake charity, though she’d be lying if she said Scarlet’s insistence on cheering her up with the free lemon cake wasn’t highly endearing and somewhat helpful.

Yvie stepped to the side with her bag, watching as Scarlet made a little drawing on the side of her cup before sliding a sleeve over her Sharpie work and making the drink as usual, which intrigued her. 

Upon receiving her drink, the typical “Yvie” with the smiley face, all the proper boxes checked, she slid the sleeve down only to find a little drawing of two crocodiles standing upright with their splayed out feet and dragging tails. The first had a little speech bubble, complementing the other’s purse, while the other held up its purse and said “Thanks, it’s my ex!” It was stupid, a stupid joke with the cute little drawings, all crosshatched to show scales. But today, Yvie laughed at those dumb little crocodiles in such a hearty way, it almost felt as though she was clearing out her throat, finally unclenching her jaw. 

“Wow.” She drew Scarlet’s attention, even as she was making another customer’s drink. “That’s actually really good.” 

“Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. “Maybe if I can’t catch my big break in acting, I’ll try to make it in latte jokes.”

Of course that’s what Scarlet was after in life. Surely she could feign cheeriness at any sight, could have known that reaching out to her and taking her hand this morning was the right thing to do. And yet none of it seemed artificial of her. There was nothing method about it, surely. 

Yvie stopped herself from thinking about Scarlet becoming a star, accepting a Golden Globe in some shimmering, heavenly draped gown. 

She shrugged. “I think you could.” 

“Well, if my audition for corpse on SVU falls through, I’ll really consider it.”

The chuckle chased Yvie as she left the store, enjoying the little cartoon on her cup. Scarlet would continue with the jokes and drawings for weeks, until Yvie found herself struck with a new joy, walking the last couple blocks to work, watching the day break over Manhattan, sure this was exactly what Scarlet saw in this place.

***

Yvie now ordered “the usual,” as Scarlet had begun referring to her triple tall latte without blueberry muffin she purchased every day for $5.08 as “the usual.” And Scarlet paired this phrase, and Yvie’s growing affinity for this phrase, her affinity for having someone who consistently knew what she wanted, with her usual, all encompassing grin, from the moment she spotted Yvie entering the store, her head shooting up at the opening of the door at six a.m. This grin, which had a brightness rivaling only the sunlight bouncing off the reflective skyline and filtering through the storefront windows—which she deeply missed and would trade the late November haze for any day, continued as Scarlet picked through the bagels, rearranging them with her tongs.

Yvie was quite enjoying this new routine with Scarlet. 

Today, Yvie sat off to the side of the counter, perched on a metal stool, phone abandoned due to the miraculous sight of Scarlet’s concentrated face as she made Yvie’s latte. The bridge of her nose formed a couple wrinkles, three little canyons on its pointed form. Her eyebrows, unruly as ever, were tightly pulled together as her eyes became slivers. And her lips. Her bottom lip, bare and pink, chapped from the cold, crushed between her teeth. All this was shadowed by the little pieces of hair that fell free from her ponytail and now hung limply in front of her face. She held the cup up, inches from the counter while her left hand worked up and down, wavering the pitcher in slight, rapid movements, pouring out the milk with care. 

“Here, look Yvie.” Scarlet pushed the cup forward. “Isn’t it beautiful.”

Scarlet marveled at her own work and Yvie felt prompted to pull away and do the same. It was quite beautiful, this rounded thing that almost looked ribbed with the precise movements Scarlet made to produce it. It also almost looked like a vagina, though she wasn’t going to say that. She only nodded because it did look beautiful. 

“It’s a tulip,” Scarlet explained. “Or at least that’s what it’s called.” 

Okay, so same difference.

Scarlet scrubbed a hand through her piecey hair, letting the strands fall back in front of her face, not bothering to secure them in her gold scrunchie. 

But before those hairs fell forward again, Yvie noticed a teasing smear of brown across Scarlet’s forehead, glistening and decadent, far darker than the golden brown of her hair, especially in this light.

“Yvie?” Scarlet tried again, her look puzzled, and rightfully so—Yvie knew she was staring, though for how long, she wasn’t sure. 

“Oh, uh…” Her voice staggered before she straightened up, regaining composure. “You have a bit of… a little something on your face.” She pointed up at Scarlet’s forehead, circling her finger around the general area as Scarlet’s eyes went wide.

“Oops, thanks.” She swiped her arm across her forehead, only smearing it further. She raised her brows, peering up at Yvie. “Did I get it?” 

It was now only a thin film, it’s edge beading over her right eyebrow. She shook her head adamantly, endeared by Scarlet’s pout in response, and pulled a napkin from the dispenser. 

“Here.” She edged closer to Scarlet, motioning with her hand for Scarlet to follow her lead, drawing her closer. “Let me get it.” 

She didn’t know what made her say it, but whatever it was, it made her feel like her veins were filled with champagne, popping feverishly at every movement, circulating evenly within her. She glanced down at the napkin, looking up only to find Scarlet closer than before, held up by her left hand splayed on the counter, her arm straight, locked, and her eyes soft, unquestioning. And now that she said it and she was this close and she had the napkin in her hand, she willed herself not to tremble as she brushed Scarlet’s stray hairs from her forehead, holding them back with her overextended pinky, swiping the napkin across the liquid—what looked like chocolate sauce—resting her wrist against the curve of her full, perpetually pink cheek. 

She patted the napkin gently, though she knew it wasn’t clearing off more of the syrup, if for nothing but an arguably weak justification for why she was studying Scarlet like this. She dabbed and noticed the smattering of freckles across Scarlet’s nose, lingering, wandering off across her cheeks. The stray hairs under the arch of her brow, just dark at their tips, not visible at any further distance. 

She’d been staring too long. She knew this, though Scarlet made no move to indicate this. In fact, her eyes were closed and she somehow forced herself forward, as though she needed to be closer than before. So, she folded the napkin to a clean edge and gave it one last pull across her forehead before setting it on the counter. 

“It’s all gone,” Yvie whispered. She couldn’t muster anything louder. Especially not with how Scarlet’s eyes finally opened again at Yvie’s voice. 

Scarlet glanced down at her hands for a moment, her giggle like pennies splashing into a wishing-well breaking the cozy silence, before looking back up at Yvie. 

“Thanks.” It was warm and sincere, broken only by Scarlet noticing Yvie’s coffee, still without a lid, the tulip wilting into mere spirals of faint white. 

“That’s a hazard,” she muttered, pressing a lid over her creation and pushing it back to Yvie.

She was close enough that Yvie could smell a faint floral perfume on Scarlet’s neck and wrists, close enough that Yvie couldn’t bear to think about how fitting it was, how it all made sense with the green wrap shirt she wore, all sage and vital, dotted with splays of white flowers, without the burgeoning warmth in her core showing itself across her cheeks. 

Scarlet frowned a bit before pushing back against the counter. “Well, there you go, Yvie.”

Yvie nodded, slipping a sleeve on the coffee and heading out, gripping the cup tightly as she left the store and headed toward the office. Today, she was thankful for the chilling morning air, ensuring she’d be free of this excessive warmth by the time she arrived at work.

***

The store was crowded for the first time Yvie could remember. As she stood in line, she tried to figure out how there could possibly be a crowd, just today, when at six a.m., it was usually only her and Scarlet, occasionally some other business person or man who just finished an early morning run. She could count on one hand the times there were more than five people in the store when she was there.

But today there were far more than five. Yvie tried not to let this bother her, though if she had to rationalize two people in front of her in line, she also had to rationalize that while she could see Scarlet at the register, her hair held back by a red bandana, her voice strident, bringing forth a mounting warmth in Yvie’s core from a what felt like mile away, she wouldn’t really get time to talk to Scarlet. But it was silly to ponder such things, especially when her only real goal was to get her latte. 

Maybe there was a convention or some larger company was having a conference. She fidgeted with the belt on her black wool coat before stuffing her hands into its pockets, trying to warm them. It had to be something the store was planning for, as Scarlet was only taking orders while two other baristas filled those orders behind the counter. 

It didn’t matter. She was here to get her latte and head to work. 

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d miss by not having time with Scarlet this morning, if Scarlet would have to save some new wild story or additional details about shopping for the perfect Christmas present for her roommate, Pearl, who was the type of person who went on about how she didn’t need anything, though Scarlet knew she’d be upset if she didn’t receive a nice gift, so Scarlet took to prodding her over what she wanted, which wasn’t terribly fruitful, ending with the realization that the best gift she could get Pearl was tickets to Atlanta to visit her girlfriend, Violet, though she knew she couldn’t afford them. And then she added that she knew Pearl got her this beautiful, buttery soft red leather wallet she’d been eyeing from Coach for months, which she only knew about because she was ‘a bit of a rascal’ and ‘spotted the bag under Pearl’s bed while looking for her other winter boot because Pearl never returns shoes when she borrows them.’ 

Which is to say that Yvie would be very disappointed not having something like flights from JFK to ATL to look up during her lunch break. 

Not that it mattered or she had to be particularly concerned about Scarlet’s musings about maybe getting Pearl a pair of her own snow boots or possibly just some money stuffed into a festive card if she really couldn’t figure out something good. 

“You didn’t mark that right,” the man in front of her said bitingly,  pressed up against the counter, pointing directly at Scarlet, finger inches away from her chest. 

Scarlet stood paralyzed before spinning the cup around, gripping it a tad too tightly. She read it off, though she waivered, her voice staggered as she looked over her markings. “Grande three pumps vanilla, three pumps caramel soy latte?”

“Two,” he gritted out fiercely. “Two pumps of caramel.” 

“Okay.” Scarlet nodded and rang him up. “$6.05 please.” She stared down at the register, drawing in open-mouthed breaths. 

“Write it down because you’re not going to remember it.” His voice was scorching. Highly unnecessary. Yvie found her fists tight in her coat pockets. Attentive. Vigilant. 

“I’ll remember, sir,” Scarlet muttered, voice small. Body small. She still held the cup and her Sharpie in her hand, frozen. 

“I’ll write it myself. Fucking incompetent,” he fumed, a furious whisper he thought could only be heard by him and Scarlet, reaching over the counter to grab the cup. 

Yvie saw the mounting fury building behind her eyes, scorching her chest. And before properly surveying the man lunging forward, the line growing impatient over this man’s fit, she saw Scarlet flinch, swore she heard her breath hitch, cutting through the din of the store, and roughly drew the man’s arm back, grasping at a fist full of his jacket. 

“How dare you believe you have the right to insult her, let alone touch her” Yvie spoke fiercely, pulling the man roughly to face her, to meet her gaze as she looked down on him, at least an inch taller than the man in her heels. “Do you believe it’s in your right to attempt assault upon her?” 

The man looked shaken, making no moves to free his arm from Yvie’s grasp. “Well, I was—” 

“That’s not an answer,” she whipped back, feeling the store fall silent, save for the click of Scarlet’s Sharpie hitting the tiled floor. 

“I was just going to write it. It’s not assault to—” 

“You were going to grab something from her hands after an escalating exchange of language on your part. Assault is defined as an intentional act by one person that creates an apprehension in another of an imminent harmful or offensive contact. That is what you attempted.” She saw the smirk wash from his face as she recited the textbook definition of attempted assault. Practiced. Authoritative. Highly believable, and really she should be, having used it nearly daily. “Now, you are going to apologize to her for your attempted assault and hope she’s kind enough to make your ridiculous coffee. Do you understand me?” 

The man nodded, still making no move to face Scarlet, his eyes blank, still wide. 

“Use your words.” 

“Yes.” 

She came up close, lowered her voice to just above a breath, ghost quiet. “You’re just a little bitch yelling at a barista over a little bitch drink. Do you understand me?”

He nodded and Yvie released him and gave him a shove to face forward, allowing him to deliver his apology.

Scarlet still stood still, staring off past the man, mechanically accepting his cash and sliding his cup off to the side, surely still terrified. She preened over her piecey hair, tucking it and letting it fall, tucking it again as she waited for him to move away from the register to wait for his drink.  What she wouldn’t do to comfort her, to bring her in close, to wrap herself around Scarlet. 

As Yvie came up to the counter, she noticed Scarlet’s flush deepened as she stole glances at Yvie before pulling her focus back to tugging a tall cup from the stack. 

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you or something,” Yvie said, pulling up her app to pay. “It just wasn’t right how he was treating you.” Yvie took a deep breath, willing her blood to quit its boiling at the thought of that man in his suit and gray coat. 

“No it’s…” Scarlet trailed off, rubbing her fingers with her thumb, steadying her breaths, trailing her eyes upward, over Yvie. “Fine.” 

Yvie let it go, not wanting to press her further. Scarlet rang Yvie up for her usual order, chewing at her lip, accidentally knocking the empty cup over with her frantic movements. And whenever she caught Yvie’s gaze for a split second, she drew away like a wounded animal, looking down at her hands. 

Yvie could take one, hold it in hers as Scarlet had done for her weeks ago, though she might be far too stimulated for touch. Instead she simply paid and added a hefty tip for Scarlet, if for nothing but to make up for that man’s behaviors. 

As she moved off to the side to wait for her drink, she caught Scarlet following her moments, having to snap back into focus to help her next customer. 

Yvie stood next to that man, who stood shuffling his feet, stiffening at her presence. Good, Yvie thought. If he makes one more move, I’ll have his balls rolling around in my Michael Kors. On Scarlet’s behalf, of course. 

***

“Yvie Yvie Yvie Yvie Yvie.” Scarlet bounced a bit in her spot, calling out her name incessantly from the moment Yvie exited the slowly falling flurries outside and entered the warmth of the store. She repeated her name, pulling her ever closer with only words before Yvie could bother to shed her scarf, so that the warmth of the store wouldn’t overwhelm her senses.

“Well, good morning, Scarlet.” Yvie chuckled at the woman’s excitement, placing her phone on the counter, unbuttoning her coat and unwinding her scarf. Somehow it was always a good morning for Scarlet, and though Yvie knew correlation did not necessitate causation, it generally meant she had a better morning as well.

“We got the holiday cups. Look.” She gestured toward them exaggeratedly, throwing her whole body into the movement, nearly knocking herself over. And Yvie was going to look, of course, though she wasn’t typically one to get excited over holiday Starbucks cups. 

Silky usually got excited over the cups and would get angry when she got a repeat within the first week or so. She ranted on and on for almost an hour in 2015 when they only had the plain red cups, as they ‘removed all festivity from Christmas, which could be considered culturally unsafe as defined within human rights law,’ which was not even the slightest bit true and made Yvie spend a bit of every day that December combing through all the choices that brought her to this desk in this law firm in New York. 

“I always like to rank the cups when we get them in,” Scarlet explained. “That way when people are rude or have children who are rude and shout about the amount of whipped cream they get, as though a cup can fit infinite amounts of whipped cream, I can give them the bad cup.”  

Yvie tilted her head at Scarlet cloyingly. 

“Yes, I have been yelled at by children. And, no, I do not like it.” 

“Right…” Yvie drew out as Scarlet’s frustration washed from her face, replaced with that same smile Yvie saw nearly every day, consistently took comfort in. The comfort of the toothy smile and the way her lips pulled back and her high, full cheeks, all pillowy over her sharpened cheek bones. She could run through the litany of Scarlet’s features by memory by now and she was sure they would never cease to bring her comfort. 

She held up the one with thin green and white stripes, pulling it close to try to make out the letters between the stripes before holding it out for Yvie to analyze. She gave it a passing glance. 

“It’s fine.” Yvie shrugged. She wasn’t one for games. But she was one for judging things, which made her a fan of Scarlet’s idea of a game. 

Scarlet put it at the end of the counter. “You’re right, like okay, still artful but not explicitly holiday-y.” 

She pulled another green and white striped cup out before retrieving a new design. This one was red and white striped, like a candy cane with ‘Starbucks’ written all over it. Again, she concentrated on the print, squeezing the cup a bit, as though to test the give of the coated paper, as though all the cups weren’t the same material. 

“6.5” 

“Okay, but how holiday-y is it?” Yvie retorted. “Is that not a pivotal measure of holiday cup goodness?” 

Scarlet lowered herself to a whisper, inching the cup closer to Yvie’s face, right until it was nearly touching her still frosty nose, a hair’s width from its tip. She leaned over the counter. “I don’t want to say this Yvie, but…” She poked Yvie with the rim of the cup, sparking something warm and electric inside her. “Is it possibly too festive? And therefore too festive to be holiday-y?” 

Yvie drew back with a gasp, clutching her chest. “Miss Scarlet!” 

“I know.” She pouted, playing into the idea that her language was vile, septically disgusting. 

“The blasphemy!” 

“I know!” 

It was silly, a silly game. And Yvie couldn’t remember the last time she played a purposeless game like this. Maybe when the M train was all backed up from god only knows what a month ago and she passed the time playing sudoku on her phone. But even that was numbers and patterns and some kind of mental gymnastics. Here, it was just saying whether the two liked the colors and patterns. It almost felt like playing as children. 

And as much as she could rationalize Scarlet needing this kind of fun in her menial job, especially with how she explained to Yvie that it was ‘so typical New York of her to make coffee until she got cast’ and how she likes to pass the time behind the counter making up characters to go with the people she waited on. Yvie probably needed this kind of fun too. 

“I see we’re doing this Merry Coffee thing, which is fun…” Scarlet trailed off, squinting at it. “Not that I’ve got important say here but I remember Brooke telling me about the time when they had just the plain red cups and oof.” Scarlet let out grunt with a quirk to her lips.

“It was apparently a hell shift. It was my first day and we were unpacking the holiday cups and she was on edge about them being Christmas enough for ‘Mothers of two-point-five kids and their husbands to not throw hot coffee at her’ like they did the year before. And then I was like ‘are they gonna throw coffee at me?’ and she looked me up and down and said absolutely.” 

Scarlet threw her hair over her shoulder. “And they have.” 

Yvie nodded, running through the math in her head, the idea of Scarlet covered in scalding coffee occupying only a second. If Scarlet started after that whole red cup, war on Christmas thing, then she had been here for years. Literal years. Yvie couldn’t figure what she had to be doing all these years to have never seen her, never taken note of her. She was sure if Scarlet was there the whole time, for years, Yvie would have noticed, no? 

Especially with how notable Yvie found her. Yes, that was what she would stick with. Her little cropped fuzzy sweater and her high waisted jeans, the ponytail and pink speckled acrylic hoop earrings. Notable. 

“I used to work nights only,” Scarlet added, turning the coffee cup about, as though she could read Yvie’s mind. “Actually, nights and weekends.”

“Oh.” Yvie felt completely slack, heat prickling at her cheeks though Scarlet was still studying the cup. Like she’d been found out. Like Scarlet had some kind of intuition for when she was on someone’s mind. Like Yvie had to be careful of something. “I’m always just here at six.”

“I’ve noticed.” A lilting exhale. 

“I’m not sure how to make coffee merry…” She trailed off, placing the cup to the side and deciding that she’d “try her damndest to make all coffee merry.”

She paused as the spotted the last one, with green polka dots on the red background, mouth open in a little O as she held it up to Yvie, the side of her hand brushed against the collar of her silk blouse, the touch perfect and chaste and yet Yvie found herself dumbfounded by the closeness of Scarlet’s to her chest, even with so many degrees between them. “Oh this one is perfect. It’s the exact same color.” 

Yvie glanced down, fully unaware of what she was wearing. She usually just got up and threw something together from her closet, sure she didn’t indulge in enough variation for anything to clash with anything else. 

But it was a perfect match between the red of her blouse and the red of the cup. 

“Huh.” Yvie couldn’t pull enough words together, especially with how Scarlet lingered, though they already matched up the reds.

But she didn’t move and Scarlet didn’t move, so they lingered on like this for a moment, up until Scarlet tore herself away to dig through tall cups to find this exact design. 

“I just think it’d be perfect for you to have everything all matchy.” Scarlet finally retrieved it and rang her up. “Like, it’ll be a fashion moment, for sure.” 

Yvie didn’t bother fighting against Scarlet’s excitement anymore. Instead she watched on as she marked up the cup and got to making the latte, pressing her hip against the counter, feeling the padding of her winter coat sink inward, finding herself staring at Scarlet and her meticulous movements, but not bothering to correct her gaze.

“You know, usually I hate when people order extra shots in their lattes.” 

“Oh, really.” Yvie’s lips curled at their ends. “You hate it?” 

“Well…” Scarlet pondered. “I surely don’t like it.” 

“Scarlet, is this your way of trying to get me to try some new Christmas drink you’ve come up with?” 

“No.” She steamed the milk before ceding to Yvie’s suspicions. “That’s still in its prototype stages. It’s just so hard to make things really green, you know?” 

Yvie could only imagine what kind of flavor combination was giving Scarlet such difficulty with making it green, shuttering at the returning thought of Scarlet’s Halloween drink, the thought alone turning her stomach. 

“Yes, I do know.” 

“See, Pearl told me that it needs more food coloring and less peppermint and caramel, but I’m just starting to think ‘making things green is hard’ might just be a fact of life.” 

“Well, when it’s here and green, I’ll try it.” Yvie said, somewhat hoping it would never become green enough for her to try, somewhat hoping it would, just so she could see Scarlet that excited again. It was cute how much someone loved the holidays, enough to make a drink for their own workplace. “You know, to save you from making all those extra shots.” 

Scarlet waved her off before pouring the milk, wavering just so, espresso rippling to create a leaf. 

“Wow,” Scarlet whispered to herself, setting the pitcher down. “God, I’m good.” 

Yvie came in closer to look at it. And it was exquisite. It looked effortless. Scarlet covered it with a lid. 

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but this is my favorite latte leaf in my favorite cup and you’re my favorite customer.” Scarlet pushed the coffee across the counter before tending to another customer, now waiting at the register. 

She took the latte into her hands, relishing the warmth still so apparent through the cardboard sleeve, so cozy in her hands as she prepared to face the elements one more, though as she glanced back out the window, the snow seemed to have slowed down in the time she was talking with Scarlet. 

She turned over the conversation once more, staring off, half interestedly watching some city workers wrap the scraggly little trees that lined the sidewalk, shooting up from their gravel filled grates, in Christmas lights. 

Scarlet had been here a long time. At least three years. Three years of her menial coffee job. Three years of children yelling about whipped cream and making extra shots and business men with no manners and watching coworkers like Brooke finally get their big break, a break she’d been waiting her whole life for, hoping endlessly that she’d get called back for some minor role and that she could spin it into a career. 

Yvie craned her head back toward Scarlet, who counted change at her register, handing the man a few loose bills and a handful of coins.

It had been years, and that woman still had the nerve to get excited about cups and holidays. She had the nerve to have favorite latte leafs and customers, and tell them about it. The nerve to believe they cared as much about her as she did about them. 

And Yvie did. She was sure of it now. There was no way not to care about a woman with such a divine combination of grit and tenderness.

As Yvie left the store, she caught Scarlet mouthing to her “not my favorite” while giving a snappy tilt of the head to the man who just paid for his coffee, her grin snarky.

Yvie was sure Scarlet was her favorite barista. 

***

“Did you know that the mermaid on the latte stick is called Melusina. Well, it’s the mermaid that’s everywhere, but it’s also on the latte stick, you know?”

Yvie, now sat on the edge of the counter—after Scarlet assured her over and over that it was fine, no one was going to see her, and if her manager did see and yelled about it, Scarlet would wipe off exactly where her butt was, should her butt not be clean enough for Starbucks standards—stopped fiddling with the Christmas mug filled with those little green sticks. 

“No, I…” Yvie pulled one out and studied it, rubbing her thumb over the plastic embossing. “How do you know that?” 

Scarlet shrugged, pouring an espresso shot into Yvie’s cup, which this time was a green one, as Yvie insisted she didn’t need Scarlet wasting cups looking for one that matched Yvie’s ‘vibe,’ before Scarlet reasoned the green one did in fact match her vibe if she closed one eye and looked at her at a forty-five degree angle. Yvie supposed this was how vibes were checked nowadays. 

“I don’t. I was totally just lying to you.” Scarlet glanced up at Yvie, flashing that mischievous look at her before adding another shot. “If you say anything with enough confidence, you can make anyone believe you. Even a lawyer extraordinaire like yourself.” 

Yvie chuckled, shifting around on the counter, accidentally kicking her briefcase resting on the ground over on its side. “Gosh, I must be losing my touch.” 

“I sure hope not, or else you’re never gonna be a woman of the law in this here town again.” Scarlet leaned forward across the counter, slipping into a thick southern accent with ease, words dripping like molasses. Yvie played with the splash stick, staring down at her lap to hide how the heat prickled in her chest. Scarlet was very talented. 

“Nope, I must be losing it. If one little Lettie can lie to me and get away with it, imagine how many bad guys can?” Yvie faked a sniffle and a quivering lip. “If my firm finds out, I’m surely done for. They’d fire me on the spot, surely.” 

Scarlet scoffed. “I hope not. I got a feeling I’d like you less when you’re not in that whole lawyer-pantsuit-heels getup you got going on.” 

Yvie then felt very conscious of her clothing, of every pinstripe on her charcoal gray pants, of the white, silky blouse, of Scarlet’s eyes clearly scanning her clothing at the same time she was. She wrung her hands together. 

“I’m kidding. Gosh.” Scarlet shoved at her shoulder. “I’d like you in anything, nothing, all the inbetween.” 

Before Yvie could process, Scarlet ran into her next sentence. “Besides, not that I know how to make it as an actress, but I wouldn’t give up my lawyer job to follow that spastic lip quiver, wherever you think it’s going.” 

She slapped a lid on the cup and haphazardly pushed it across the way to Yvie, then moving to fix her hair. “Here’s your latte, Yvie, Ms. Lawyer Extraordinaire.” 

“Please, I’m sure you know enough about how to make it as an actress.” Yvie accepted the drink, fiddling with the sleeve on her cup. She made no move to lift herself from the counter, pick up her briefcase, and go about her day. “I know you have it in you. I’m so sure everyone’s gonna see it soon enough. I believe it.” 

And she did. Yvie didn’t expend energy lying, gassing people up, stumbling around fragile feelings. She never had the time for it and knew she probably never would. They were new words to her, assuring someone that their superficially outlandish dreams weren’t actually outlandish, but they felt correct to say. They felt like the most honest sentence she could say to Scarlet as the barista fiddled with her hair, trying to fit it into a suitable bun with a pout struck across her lips. 

Scarlet huffed. “You believed me when I said the mermaid was called Melusina and then you believed me when I said I was lying.”

“What does that have to do with anything, Scarlet?” 

Scarlet took the splash stick from her hands as Yvie looked up, following her touch, only to find Scarlet with her hair down and draped over her shoulders, those brown curls haloed by a golden friz, resting against the deep plum of her knit sweater. She cursed her body for acting as though she never saw a woman’s hair before, for picturing how it would feel as she grazed it, how Scarlet could just melt at Yvie’s fingers against her scalp. 

She would curse her mouth later for how it opened, how her lips parted at the thought. 

“I’m just saying, you’ll believe anything I say, even if it’s just me being delusional and really thinking I’m going to make it.” Scarlet gave the splash stick back. “Also it really is called Melusina and you should actually believe that.” 

She placed her latte back down on the counter. “Scarlet, I really do think—” 

But she was cut off by her fumbling hands as she tried to stick the splash stick into her latte without holding the cup firmly, tipping it over with her course movements, scrambling to stand it upright as the latte spilled out. 

“Fuck,” Yvie groaned, trying to pull a fistful of napkins out of the dispenser. 

“Hey, it’s fine” Scarlet reached over to steady her hand. She took a cloth to the mess. “I’ll just make you another.” 

“No really, you don’t have to. I spilled it and there’s probably still a lot left and I don’t want to trouble you.”

Yvie tried to take the cup but Scarlet was quicker.

“No really. I want to.” Scarlet walked back over to the register and pulled out another cup. “And besides, if I don’t remake it, I’m gonna spend all day thinking about you how you don’t have your latte and I’m gonna be sad over it.” 

Yvie couldn’t argue for Scarlet being sad all day, especially if what could prevent that sadness was her getting to remake the latte. So she nodded, though she considered if Scarlet did think about her before deciding not to bother herself any longer with following such a silly train of thought. 

Scarlet handed her the new latte after sticking a splash stick in herself. “Because now I know you can’t handle the Melusina splash stick,” she teased. 

“I’m gonna handle the Melusina splash stick tomorrow.” 

“Yeah you sure are. And I’m gonna get cast.” Scarlet rolled her eyes and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. 

Yvie picked up her briefcase and turned to leave, tossing “You’ll see. It’ll happen.” over her shoulder as she walked out, surely not referring to the silly little splash stick. 

Upon taking a good look at Melusina, she now saw Scarlet wrote Yvie’s name with what had to be a heart. She could spend all day convincing herself otherwise, but that was a heart and the end of her name, small and filled in with black Sharpie. And she was very sure she was going to spend all day thinking about that. 

***

It was all wet. The clouds broke ever more, leaving the street slick and oily under lamps and strung up lights outside little bistros, against the roving reds and purples filtering through the window of the nightclub Yvie passed before crossing the street, shouldering people aside, hoping to get inside somewhere, hoping to charge her phone, call a cab, and forget this whole night had even happened. 

She pulled her trench coat tighter, cursing the flimsy fabric in the January chill. She hadn’t thought to dress warmer, walking down a now well worn path in her unsensible heels and smart black dress, feeling her feet soaking through as she dodged sidewalk grates. 

She was only thankful for the crowds and the downpour to hide her tears, to smear her makeup further, to allow her night—or what should have been her night of getting dinner with that girl from finance, maybe a few drinks afterward — blur into the collective night of Manhattan, filtering out of anyone’s care or consciousness but her own. 

She came past those same mirrored windows, tearing her gaze away when she saw her hair stuck to her forehead, how she shivered and looked so small in her coat. She kept walking until she landed on the Starbucks, the one she knew so thoroughly, knowing that it was a tad past closing time, but, God, she hoped the doors would open at her needy tug. 

They didn’t. It was locked. Barely past 10 p.m. and it was already locked.

Fuck. God fuck. She just wanted to charge her phone a bit, hail a cab, and maybe get in from the cold for a moment. But she shouldn’t have bothered in the first place. Or at the very least, she shouldn’t have waited for hours for her to show up, sipping water from a sweating tulip glass, obsessively checking her phone for a text, a call, anything, deleting old emails to pass the time between unanswered, frantic calls, until she was asked to give up her table, battery hovering around five percent, swallowing to keep her lip from quivering, unable to swallow back her hot tears the minute she left the restaurant. Fucking stupid.

“Yvie?” 

She looked up, meeting Scarlet’s concerned face, head tilted as she fiddled with the key to the door, unlocking it, pushing it open, and pulling Yvie inside by the arm. 

“What happened? You—” Scarlet looked her up and down from an arm’s length. Yes, it had to be bad.

“I just gotta charge… Can I charge my phone here?” Yvie paused. “Since when do you work nights?”

Scarlet didn’t answer. Instead, she wrapped an arm around her waist and lead Yvie over to the couch — this well worn cognac leather thing with a couple rips down the side, sat in front of the window — and lowered her down, resting her hands on Yvie’s shoulders, fiddling with the lapel of her coat before smoothing her shoulders. 

“You stay here and I’ll be right back, okay?” She waited for Yvie to nod before she scurried off behind the counter. 

“Can I charge my phone?” Yvie called back, feeling her voice waiver. It was even more apparent in the empty store, nothing more than two people and the sound of hot liquid hitting a paper cup, lifting her head to see Scarlet tearing open a tea bag and shoving it down into the water with a wooden stick.

Scarlet jogged on back to the sofa, swearing every time the water sloshed over the edge of the cup, and placed it down on the table before sitting next to Yvie on the couch. “Sorry, yeah I work closing on Saturdays and yeah of course you can. I have a charger somewhere, I just thought you’d like something to warm you up first. I didn’t know how you took your tea though so I—. 

As Scarlet rambled, Yvie found herself growing all the more worked up, as though her throat were swelling and her chest had this raging, prickling burn until she spilled over again, until she felt fat, hot tears running down her face, until she heard Scarlet mutter “oh no, Yves,” until she felt the soft, warm, faded cotton of Scarlet’s striped long sleeve shirt against her cheek and Scarlet’s arms wrapped around her waist, fingers interwoven and resting on her back, anchoring her down. 

She let out a heaving sob, but tried to pull away. It was pathetic. She was acting pathetic. But Scarlet wouldn’t let her go, just pulled her in again, shushing her as she cried. 

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” Scarlet’s voice was smooth, soft, with the texture of a cello’s vibrato. “What’s wrong, Yvie?” 

“She didn’t show up.” Yvie mumbled against Scarlet’s shirt, sniffling. She was probably staining Scarlet’s shirt with her damn mascara. “She was supposed to show up and she didn’t.” 

“What happened?” Scarlet pressed her cheek against Yvie’s wet face, nearly speaking into her hair. “Who didn’t show up?”

“My date. She worked in finance. She was a friend of Silky’s friend. She just…” Yvie pulled herself back, tearing the heels of her hands across her eyes. “I waited hours and she never showed up and she never said why and I…” Yvie felt smaller now, sinking into her coat. She felt like a smashed porcelain doll, all shards where her body should have been. 

“Why didn’t she show up?” Yvie asked, much quieter now, like the words were cursed. They did haunt her though. Why didn’t she show up? “I just want to know why.” 

“Hey,” Scarlet soothed and took Yvie’s hands, now clenched, and smoothed them out, holding them in her own, resting their clasped hands in her lap. 

“Well, Yvie,” Scarlet began as Yvie looked down at her lap. “It could have been traffic. Or maybe a rogue taxi driver took her to Long Island by what had to have been a mistake or maybe some evil plot because, like, it’s Long Island. Or maybe her cat died? Does she even have a cat? Maybe she got stuck at work late? Does she work Saturdays? Or maybe her phone died too.” Scarlet gave her hands a squeeze. “You know, two people can have a dead phone at the same time. My phone’s probably dead right now.” 

Yvie giggled lowly. 

“But probably she got stuck in Long Island and she’s suffering double right now because she missed a date with you, and you know…it’s Long Island.” She laughed to herself and Yvie couldn’t help but join in, falling forward, shoulders shaking. 

“It’s the Florida of New York,” Yvie added meekly. 

“Please, it’s the Tampa, Florida of New York.” Scarlet laughed again at her own joke. “I don’t know if that’s worse. I don’t know a lot about Florida, but it sounds worse. I feel like shit happens in Tampa.”

Yvie couldn’t help but join her, couldn’t help but look up to capture the image of Scarlet’s joy in her mind’s eye, let it wash over her, let it wash over her thoughts, only allowing the pressing, increasingly present thought of Scarlet and how she wouldn’t have wanted to be here with anyone else, how thankful she was that she answered the door, how she couldn’t picture enjoying her date more than she enjoyed Scarlet.

And she was staring at her lips, Scarlet’s lips, with their ChapSticked sheen, as she spoke. And her hands were in Scarlet’s. Oh, how she did that thing with her thumb, as though she could ease all of Yvie’s pain with a gentle massage to the knuckle, as though that was where the hurt was, just like she did when she’d just been dumped, months ago. She couldn’t have remembered how it calmed her, that metronomic, even touch, how it eased her hurt with its ceaselessness. And yet, if anyone would remember, it was Scarlet. 

It was always Scarlet, wasn’t it? Why was she fucking around with some other date, some woman who worked in finance, when the best part of her day was sitting right in front of her, holding her hands, rambling on about how Florida alligators probably got to Long Island via underground sewer channels that spanned the entire east coast.

“Scarlet?” Yvie pulled a hand out of Scarlet’s grasp to rest it on her leg, taking Scarlet out of her speech. 

She snapped down to stare at her hand before meeting Yvie’s gaze again, failing miserably to hide the blush that had spread across her cheeks, right up to the tip of her sculpted nose, illuminated by the string lighted trees and their honeyed light filtering through the window and the flush of the lamps flanking the couch. 

“Yeah?” 

Yvie swallowed. “May I…” She shook her head a tad. “Fuck, I—” 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Scarlet said, rubbing Yvie’s shoulder, water still beading on the sleeve of her jacket. She rested her hand on her forearm. “We don’t have to talk about tonight anymore. It’s all fine, Yvie.” 

“No, it’s just.” Yvie pushed her hair away, leaving her fingers caught in her still dripping hair, heavy sigh escaping her parted lips. She locked eyes with Scarlet. “You make every day better. You make all my days better. Every morning I start with you is better and every day after is better. Even rotten, horrible days are better. And just… I just want more of that. I want more of you.” 

“Scarlet.” She pulled her hand out of her hair and placed it over her and Scarlet’s interlocked hands, wrapping herself around them. “Can I kiss you?” 

Scarlet pressed her lips together, closing her eyes and exhaling into a smile. She nodded eagerly, so Yvie brought her hand to cradle Scarlet’s face, fingers grazing her jaw, thumb swiping across her cheek. Scarlet’s eyes roamed, first to their hands, still connected, still in Scarlet’s lap, then around the store and through the window, then back to Yvie. Yvie was sure she was looking directly at her now. 

“What are you looking at?” Yvie ended with a hum, leaning in closer. Their legs brushed together. 

Scarlet’s free hand shifted from Yvie’s arm to rest on her hip, teasing at the knit fabric of her dress. “I’m just taking it all in, is all.” She halted her movement, tilting her head back down to look at her lap. “Just… I’ve been here before, wanting you to kiss me for a while. And now it’s real.” 

Yvie now rubbed over Scarlet’s knuckles with her thumb, watching her chin tilt up to release a breathy giggle, like rings of smoke floating into the air. “It’s real, Scar.” 

With that, she captured Scaret’s open lips with hers, feeling Scarlet’s hand inch upward to rest on her waist as she deepened the kiss, feeling Scarlet’s hair brush against her neck, feeling her nose against her own, feeling Scarlet’s fingers stretch in their interlocked hands before gripping tighter in an attempt to pull her closer, like she was hers. And she was. 

They parted, foreheads still touching, fingers still intertwined. Yvie pressed her lips against Scarlet’s once more. 

“I—” Scarlet began, eyes still closed for a moment, breathing still deep and calm, fingers pressed so ardently into Yvie’s waist. 

“I want to be with you,” Yvie cut her off, letting her hand fall from Scarlet’s cheek to play with a tendril of Scarlet’s hair, fitting it between her thumb and index finger. 

Scarlet mashed her lips together before responding softly, her voice plush and full. “I want that too. I want to be with you too.” 

Upon hearing that, upon processing that Scarlet wanted her as well, that she was wanted, the severe elation of being wanted after being so aggressively unwanted moments ago, how her slick coat and soaked hair reminded her as much, she broke their hands apart and grabbed Scarlet roughly by her hips, pulling her into her lap and kissed her again and again and again, kissed until it all felt well-worn and new in the same breath, until all Yvie wanted to do was fit her chin on Scarlet’s shoulder and revel in the closeness she’d wanted for so long in the exact spot she’d wanted it. 

They sat together, the hours passing, thin as gossamer, fractured only by their words and the smattering of rainfall outside, far too intimate in the empty room to be anything but whispered, if for nothing but the reassurance that they were theirs and only theirs, openly, finally, and ceaselessly.

[mbti-notes]

INFJ. I think I'm enneagram 9 (I know this blog isn't about enneagram, but a relevant point is they're titled "peacemakers"). I often have the ability to see things from all sides. While this can be good, I feel like I often end up repressing my feelings about things because of it. Sometimes I'll disagree or be made uncomfortable by someone and in the moment, I will be nice and agreeable, and later realize I was actually upset by what they said or did. ( 1 / 2 )

[con’t: It sneaks up on me because I’m more focused on dousing the fire than how I feel. My BIGGEST question: how do I become more in tune with what I’m feeling in the midst of conflict instead of way later? I feel like I’m dishonoring myself and “my truth” with this habit. And how do I approach expressing how I really feel after the fact? (And discerning when its really worth pivoting back to an earlier argument.) There was a point where I was starting to assert myself, but I got angry at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. In the beginning my anger was understandable, but I was very stubborn about not letting go of that anger instead of being sympathetic and working to resolve the conflict. It caused a lot of damage. I wouldn’t want to repeat that failed effort of asserting myself. How do I know when to show feelings of anger? Thanks so much!]

Read the articles about emotional well-being and communicating through conflict, as well as related tags, because this topic has come up several times from infjs before. If you need more than that, there are book recommendations on the resources page about these topics. You describe poor judgment, which means that your Fe-Ti functions require better development. It seems you overindulge Fe and have difficulty drawing appropriate emotional boundaries, too easily getting tied up with what people do or think. When your emotions get the better of you, you misuse Ti and Se, hurt morphs into anger, and you indulge the impulse to attack, only to deeply regret it. Aside from this, infj problems almost always trace back to dysfunctional Ni and one’s problematic beliefs/assumptions about the world. Let’s delve into your belief system and the assumptions you make…

Labeling oneself a “peacemaker” is rather useless when you have no insight into why you manifest this behavior. It’s obvious that this label is part of your persona and thus an unconscious source of pride. However, every source of pride is also a potential catalyst for your downfall. In FJs, playing “peacemaker” is inextricably tied to a deep-seated fear of conflict, which in turn is often accompanied by a deep-seated fear of hurt and rejection, which in turn is often rooted in low self-worth and the belief that one’s own needs and desires are illegitimate or “selfish”. “Peacemaker” doesn’t sound so hot when you put it like that, does it? It seems you don’t yet possess a deep enough understanding of your beliefs about yourself.

Serious question for you to reflect on: What’s wrong with conflict? You seem to treat it as the end of the world. Expanding on the first point, a false self-image means that you cannot accept the reality of who you are. You bristle when the mirror of your social interactions reflects back to you your true face, as your unconscious fears get triggered and your dark side quickly emerges. In other words, perhaps you fear conflict because it reflects back to you the truth that you’re not as agreeable, understanding, accepting, acceptable, etc, as you want to believe you are, and/or the fact that the world doesn’t actually live up to your desires and expectations. Instead of confronting your fears within and getting to the bottom of your problem, you seek to “manage” it out there in the world. You want to manipulate the social environment to suit your comfort level, but you can’t fully admit that this is what you want because then you sound like a “selfish b*tch”, so you have to couch everything in nice sounding words like “peacemaking” or “asserting”, etc. You’re basically asking me to provide you with permission to put yourself first, but it’s just part and parcel of the same old pattern: put others first, resent, put myself first, shame, rinse, repeat. As you hinted at, it’s pointless to ask me when it’s okay to get into an old pattern again.

You ask “how do I know when to show feelings of anger?” Wrong question. Ask “how is it that I got to be so angry?” Anger is at level 10 and you wait until 11 before you even consider the possibility of doing something, then you seem taken aback that you’re basically ready to attack someone like a frothing animal. Anger is merely a cowardly extension of sadness, and sadness often comes from feeling hurt. You are afraid of feeling hurt (because it reveals your darkness), you are afraid of appearing hurt and vulnerable (because that would disrupt social harmony and your self-image of how you promote social harmony), so how can you acknowledge your hurt let alone express it? You want to express your feelings when you can’t even accept that they exist. You suppress them until they morph into something ugly.

You’re not owning your emotions but rather misattributing them to an outside source, believing that “they made me angry”, so you wait passively for that external trigger to go away or you surmise that the resolution (or closure) lies in confronting THEM and maybe “correcting” THEM so that they agree with you. You’re turning anyone who disagrees with you into an enemy or traitor rather than taking a genuine interest in their viewpoint. If someone says something disagreeable to you, why is it not a viable option to simply say at that moment “I disagree” or ask “why do you believe that”? What do you think would happen? Do you believe that a civil discussion isn’t possible as soon as there is disagreement? And why is it not a viable option to simply allow someone to have their opinion, assuming that their personal opinion has no tangible impact upon you?

It seems you haven’t reflected on your beliefs about what makes for good communication. Many immature FJs actually treat communication as opportunities to fish for affirmation, but communication is about forging connection, which can’t happen when people can’t express themselves authentically. And how can you express yourself authentically when you can’t accept your own feelings and emotions? Perhaps you naively believe that communication must ALWAYS be positive, “peacemaking”, “agreeable”, a kumbaya circle, etc. Then you’re living in fantasy and you hope for something fake. There are always going to be disagreements because every individual has their own unique experiences that result in a unique viewpoint. You get stuck on disagreements because you fail to understand that confronting the negative is necessary for reaching the positive; it is through carefully exploring differences that people come closer together and develop appreciation for each other. Why do you think people naturally become LESS racist, sexist, homophobic, etc, the more they interact with the people they deride? Disagreements can be a good thing when you know how to utilize them to foster deeper understanding. Fear of conflict means that this option is completely closed off to you, since communication immediately shuts down the moment you get triggered.

Overindulging Fe means being oversensitive to social feedback. This happens because there is no clear understanding of the difference between “your business” and “none of your business”. You say you “have the ability to see things from all sides”. Do you really? It sounds like a myth that you like to perpetuate about yourself (false self-image). If you have this ability, then why do you begrudge differences of opinion? Do people not have a right to their own individual thoughts and the freedom to feel their own feelings? If you have this ability, then why do you downplay or devalue your own side? Are you not a person and do you not deserve to have your own thoughts and feelings? Believing something is true doesn’t make it true. You claim a fair-mindedness that is betrayed by your unfair approach to disagreement. You’re not that good at seeing things from all sides, but if you insist on believing you are (false self-image), then how are you going to improve this ability? Isn’t the truth closer to this: “I only have the ability to see the sides that closely resemble mine”?

Healthy Fe is fair-minded, respectful, and compassionate. But do you want to be these things because it would absolutely destroy you to learn that you are NOT these things (egotistical intention), in which case, every social interaction becomes a looming threat as every conflict reflects back to you your unexamined darkness? Or do you truly understand the value of Fe and aim to express it properly (authentic intention)? If you are truly fair-minded, it wouldn’t trigger you to hear differences of opinion and you wouldn’t take other people’s business so personally. If you are truly respectful of everyone’s humanity, you would not disrespect yourself or become excessively critical of people just because you feel hurt or afraid. If you are truly compassionate, you would know how to extend compassion to yourself and resolve negative social situations through patient empathetic dialogue. Work on Fe.

[werevulvi]

Writing this text led me to several important realisations, suddenly crying my heart out, and then feeling a lot better. So I felt it’s important to post. Also I’ve got a question towards the end, for anyone who knows how to use tumblr better than I do. Sudden internalised lesbophobia thought of today, me to myself: "Even if there was a cure for homosexuality, I would never want it..." "...wait... I said 'cure' didn't I?" "Oh, shit. Well if that ain't a freudian slip, I don't know what possibly could be."

That's... my doubled-sided coin in a nut shell. Trapped in one single sentence. I don't actually want for my sexuality to change, even if that was possible (which was what I thought I meant to say), cause I'm happier with other women than I could ever even imagine being with men let alone was, like really a hell of a lot happier with women and I want to nurture and savour that, and I live in one of the most pro-lgbt countries in the world... but I'm still struggling to view it in a fully healthy light. My dumb brain still whispers that it goes against nature, that it's somehow sick. Why do I care? Sitting by a computer obviously goes against nature too, and praying to Satan while wearing a hooded black robe in a dark candle lit room at midnight is often considered "sick" by some people too, and kinda for the same dumb reasons (meaning a harmless something that just goes against people’s personal beliefs), but apparently I have no moral quarrels with those sort of activities. But clearly my women-loving activities, whether romantic or sexual, keep grinding my gears.

Like... maybe that's also intrusive thoughts? Aside from my "regular" sexual intrusive thoughts, I mean. Cause really what else is up with those random "voices" whispering homophobic shit to me? Of course they're intrusive thoughts. I can't believe I didn't realise that before. I'm such an idiot! Oh well, better late than never, here we go again *pats my own shoulder*

However, I had a good conversation today with an acquaintance who might become a friend. He's a gay man, somewhere in his late 40's, very sweet, humble yet straight-forward and kinda blunt, and talks really a lot. He hosts "rainbow cafe" events in the only city on this small island around once or twice a month, which is casual gathering for lgbt people and allies. Sometimes, it's just me and him, because no one else attended. As was last evening, just he and I, and we ended up talking about everything from David Bowie to homophobia in muslim countries, and from to "Will and Grace" to his ex/on-off boyfriend and my girlfriend. I always love hearing him talk of his ex boyfriend. They seem worlds apart yet very understanding and caring of each other, and casually bickering like they've known each other forever. It's clear to me that they're still very good friends. It was perhaps a seemingly simple, just friendly conversation, but it felt so good. Like... just fucking finally having a normal conversation with another gay person about gay stuff irl. I don't know why but that makes me cry right now. Fuck, I just need to feel normal and not just be told that I'm normal. Cause there is a big difference. And during that conversation with him I felt normal. He didn't say it, not even once, but he made me feel normal by simply treating me as if I was. That's it... that clicked something within me. I don't cry often, so when I end up bawling like that... I KNOW it's important. Cause it only happens that I cry when a feeling is so strong I can't possibly bottle it. Instead it explodes. Now I feel a hell of a lot better... wow, that was cleansing! Also I finally managed to tell him about my detransition, which I had not been able to muster before, and then I've met him during those kind of cafe events some 5-10 times by now for a whole year. But now it was easy. I felt considerably more confident than ever, which made me far more conversational than I've been in a long time, and his reaction to that was... he seemed unphased.

Not shocked, not clenching his gut in discomfort at the thought of the horror I must be going through. He seemed to understand it's a difficult process, but didn't make a big deal out of it. In that sense too, he made me feel normal. It's not about me being normal, just feeling it. If even just for rare moments here and there. I've... never felt that way before. That's definitely worth crying over, and it's entirely connected to my internalised lesbophobia. Cause I think with my lesbian discovery, so soon after my detransition, it felt like insult to injury. Like I'll never be a normal woman at any point, no matter how far I detransition, cause I'll always be a lesbian woman. And I think that's the thorn that I didn't even know I had in my side, until it was forcibly pulled out. I no longer doubt I'm a lesbian. I haven't for the past few months. I haven't felt a single doubt about it since my girlfriend and I first got physical, and I mean it. I've felt and known sincere certainty about my sexuality ever since. Not just that I love her, and am very attracted to her, but that I just can't possibly feel that sorta thing towards any male. No man could ever make me wet by just kissing me, but she can. And I know why. It's as clear as the sun is bright. I think unfortunately though... the more sure I get that I really am a lesbian, through and through, the more scared of it I become. It's as if the more sure of it I become, the more inevitable it feels. Question is, why do I treat my homosexuality as some kind of inevitable doom? I read too much crap. No doubt that all the gut-wrenching homophobia that keeps popping up in my tumblr feed is getting to me, feeding my fantasies of corrective rape and drilling thoughts of it being "unnatural" and "wrong" into my already fragile and tormented skull. If only I could filter blog contents somehow without unfollowing or blocking anyone. Cause I want to read some 90% of the content of the radfem blogs I follow, but fuck it whenever I get face fucked with another post of absolutely vicious homophobia (especially when targetting lesbians specifically) I lose my ability to distance myself and I feel like utter and absolute shit. It sucks my ptsd-brain into a vacuum of impending darkness. I get (extra) vulgar when I'm upset. Sorry not sorry, it's a coping mechanism. Trust me, it lightens my mood, and that's the purpose of it.

Or in simpler language: I get a little triggered. Or like... badly triggered, but pushing it aside, pretending everything is fine and dandy, but my insides keep screaming and tossing about.

And I can't keep exposing myself to that, just hoping I'll get desensitised soon enough. I guess tumblr has some kind of function to filter out tags that I could try, but then you guys and gyns don't exactly always tag your shit. Sure it's good to expose homophobes' bigotry so more people will know about, absolutely. But I don't need any more exposure of that, thank you I've had enough. So oh well, oh well. Maybe I could create a second account for following blogs I know are crammed with such nasty shit I can't possibly avoid without making too big of a sacrifice, and keep my main blog clean from that, but means unfortunately unfollowing a lot. Which I don't wanna. Also I really don't have the spoons to create a second account and filter through all the 500 or so blogs that I follow. I just simply don't.

I don't fucking know. But that crap is really, really getting to me and I know I need to take some distance from all the horrid homophobia in the world, or at least a damn break from it. ~Cause I've got a feeling~ ~that it's stunting my healing~ I'm in such a strange mood tonight. My dark humour is coming to my defense. It's late, I need to sleep but I'm hyperactive due to being over-tired. Cause sometimes my brain just does the opposite to what it’s supposed to. It needs me to finish this first. But anyhows. If anyone's got any advice on how to avoid specific(-ally nasty) tumblr content without unfollowing (people who don't fucking tag their nasty posts), that'd be great. Desk top, not app, btw. I mean especially the endlessly big posts of more and more people adding cited quotes from TRA's such as "lesbians who don't like dick should be raped by girl dick, killed, gutted, turned into sex slaves, forcibly impregnated, yadda yadda" you know the drill. And oh it drills... If in any case a clarification was necessary.

[madrut16]

BB Rewrite: Chp. 13 - The Dungeon (Part 2)

Author’s Note: I thought I would have this out sooner but I’ve had a lot of assignments due for the end of the semester so it got pushed back. But, I finally I had some free time to finish it! I’ll try to get the rest of the chapters done as soon as I can but, I’m gonna be in Vegas for a few days after I leave college so it might be delayed.

Also, yes I did change my name and give my blog a makeover. I figured I would fully commit to my Bloodbound obsession xD. 

Disclaimer: All of the characters and dialogue not originally mine belong to Pixelberry studios. Also, this is really long (13000+ words) so take breaks if necessary!

Summary: The plan to rescue Adrian and protect the serum unfolds, and suspicions are confirmed. 

Tags: @endlesshero1122, @kinda-iconic, @liittleemiixeer, @krishnu213, @simsvetements, @regina-and-happiness

Isabel's skin tingled with fear and excitement as she approached Raines corps. She had come up with elaborate plans before while she was still at her internship yet, none with these high of stakes. This was the one she wanted to work the most. It had to. She didn’t know if her heart could recover if it didn’t.

"Remember the plan," Lily told her in the earpiece Janet had given them all from security. Her friend was staying behind at Kamilah's office to monitor and do all of the behind the scenes computer work.

"Yep, in and out as fast as possible.”

As she reached the front entrance, she was stopped by a burly man dressed in all black who upon seeing her, scowled. 

"Vega told me to watch out for you. You're not getting your boy toy back sweetheart."

“I know.” 

The man rolled his eyes. “Then what do you want?” he demanded. 

Isabel swallowed the simmering anger she felt and frowned, feigning a defeated expression. "I mean no harm, I swear. I just want to get my things from the office real quick," she pleaded. While she saw some resistance waning, he still wasn't completely hers yet.

"Uh huh. Yeah right"

Others would be worried, but not her. 

She pursed her lips in annoyance. "Look, I get it, I got in over my head okay! I just want to leave this all behind me and forget that everything happened," she cried, using the real emotion she felt earlier to produce crocodile tears. "Is that really too much to ask?”

She looked at him innocently for a full minute, even making her lip quiver for effect. 

From the hidden earpiece, she heard Jax comment from his position patrolling the streets, "Damn, even I'm convinced."

She ignored his remark and maintained her forlorn stare at the guard until she saw his expression change and she knew that she had broken him.

"Fine, thirty minutes only, no more. You humans really are that weak,” he scoffed. “Once you get past the lobby there's no one stationed, so you shouldn't have a problem."

Isabel exhaled. "Thank you, so much." 

She continued to keep up her sad, exhausted appearance as she entered the building and the entire walk to the elevators until there was no one in sight. Finally, she sighed, a brief smile creeping up.

"We're in the clear."

The elevator doors opened and she sprinted inside, quickly using her key card to produce the hidden buttons. As it moved up each floor one by one, she paced around the small space. Patience was one thing she did not have.

"Isabel, slow down," Kamilah told her. She was surveying the other side of the building. She also had Janet go ahead to the club and monitor from the outside in case any surprise developments occurred.

"How--?"

"I can hear your footsteps. Relax, everything is going perfectly so far. The more you panic, the more mistakes will be made."

The human sighed. "I know. But I don't have a lot of time before they realize I deceived them. I can't go over that thirty minutes by much."

"Hopefully you can be quick then."

The elevator finally reached the Executive level and she sprinted out of it as the doors opened. Her arms stung from being scraped against the metal as she slipped between into the lobby but she ignored it. It would definitely leave a mark though. 

She reached her desk in seconds and found the tote bag she'd left with her spare clothes. Next, she filled it with the things they would need that she had access to: water bottles, a lighter, and weapons including makeshift wooden stakes, a small collapsible knife, and the pepper spray she kept for emergencies.

Looking around, she noticed the security cameras and realized that someone working for Vega had probably hacked into them to watch inside. Luckily, Isabel knew how to disable them since Adrian gave her access to the security software. She hastily logged into the computer and loaded the program.

Smiling, she stared into one of the cameras. "Goodbye," she sneered. "Can't wait for you to realize you aren’t the only ones who can play chess," she muttered before shutting the whole system off. She watched as the red lights on the cameras abruptly disappeared and the lenses were covered. Now, the whole building would be cut off from prying eyes. 

"Nice work," Lily told her. Manipulating technology was usually her thing. "Glad what I've taught you hasn't gone to waste."

For good measure, Isabel used her knife to cut the wires connecting the security system to the computers so that they couldn't be turned back on. Then, she turned her attention to getting into Adrian's office, where the real work could be done. After making sure no one was in there, she picked the lock with some tools and slipped inside, bolting the door behind her.

"Okay, I'm in," she said into the ear piece’s microphone. "How are we doing on time?"

"Fifteen minutes," Lily said.

Isabel smirked. "That’s more than enough." 

She began to open the different drawers and cabinets and quickly found the blueprints all rolled up. She grabbed the correct ones and stuffed them in her bag. She also discovered two black walkie-talkies, probably at least twenty years old. However, when she turned one on, the crackle told her that they still were good as new. Although not part of the plan, she took them anyway. They would be useful for getting out of the city.

All that was left was destroying the vials of serum and getting the car. Using the phone on Adrian's desk, she called the head scientist in the lab.

"Hello?"

"Tony, it's Isabel."

He let out a surprised gasp. “Isabel? What are you doing here?

"Adrian isn't going to die today, we have a plan to rescue him. But, once Vega finds out, he’s going to come for the serum, maybe even use Adrian to get it. I need you to make sure the supply is gone down there in the lab, all of it," she told him curtly. “I’ll deal with the batch in here.”

"Oh...um, okay. You mean to destroy it right?" he asked, quickly getting on board.

"Yes, get rid of it, in any way you can. We can always make more after this is over,” she said before explaining her suspicions about Nicole. 

The scientist let out a sigh. “I hate to say it but I think you’re right. She’s been acting strange even before you were hired.”

“How fast do you think you can get rid of it?" she asked.

She heard him doing the math. "Only ten minutes, fifteen at most. Adrian already had a plan in place just in case to destroy production. I'll tell the others to get to work immediately."

"Good, thank you!" 

“Actually, I have something to help with your plan to catch her. And make sure they don’t get the serum.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you when I get there. I’m heading up as soon as I give the command to the lab,” he told her before abruptly hanging up.

Confused, she shrugged before opening the secret wall where Adrian kept a batch of vials in a safe, remembering the complex pattern he taught her. She unlocked it revealing the samples which she promptly dumped on the ground and broke with her foot, the red liquid oozing out onto the fancy carpet. Isabel cleaned up the glass and threw it in the trash and moved the rug to cover up the stains. 

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door and seeing Tony through a space in the hinge, she quickly opened it. Before she could speak, she was handed what looked like a batch of the serum. She raised an eyebrow. 

“What is this exactly?”

"A decoy. These puppies have red food coloring to make it look like the real thing. I figured you could use these."

"Wha--? How?" she stammered. They looked completely identical. 

"It was my idea months ago. I designed it in case the real thing was in danger and we need to swap it out. Guess my instincts were right." he told her.

She quickly took them from him. “Wow, that’s brilliant! I wish I’d thought of it myself.”

He turned to leave and then paused, looking at her once more. 

"Oh, and Isabel?" this time, emotion pained his face. 

"Yes?" she asked.

The scientist swallowed hard. "I can tell you care about Adrian a lot.

Her cheeks flushed and she nodded. “I do.”

He proceeded to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Bring him home, will you? For all of us," he told her.

"I will Tony."

He gave her one last smile. “I can tell he chose the right person to get attached to. And that his high praise of you is warranted.” Then he left leaving her in shock. 

(Adrian really thought about me like that?)

"Ten minutes Iz!" Lily shouted. 

Pushing down the lump that formed in her throat, she willed herself to return to her task. “Got it Lilz.”

She placed the decoy set in the safe where the real ones used to be and sealed the wall back up to be opened later when both hers and Vega’s traps were sprung.

“Now, where are his keys?” she wondered, continuing to rummage through his desk drawers.

"Adrian usually keeps them in that cabinet somewhere," Kamilah said.

Turning, Isabel rummaged through the shelves until her fingers closed around the cool metal. “Perfect!”

She surveyed the room before slipping back out and locking the door. This time she only rode the elevator back down to the fifth floor before heading for the stairs in the back of the building. They allowed her to get to the hallway next to the garage without anyone seeing her. As she made it to the first floor, she almost collided with Nicole.

(Speak of the devil.)

"Isabel, what on earth are you doing here?" the blonde demanded, her icy eyes boring into her.

"Oh, I was just getting my things while I still can," she replied, her hopeless demeanor returning.

She could tell that Nicole was buying it already. "You poor thing. I'm sad about it too, but there's nothing that can be done now."

The assistant saw something in the woman's eyes that sent a chill up her spine. She did have something up her sleeve. Delilah didn't call her a human lie detector without reason.

"You know," she said, "You were right." She sniffed before looking up at the ceiling as if she was about to breakdown completely. "I was never cut out for this! And now, I just want to move on and forget.” A single tear made its way down. 

She was met with a proud scoff. "I knew you were. I tried telling him but, he wouldn't listen. He has a habit of getting too attached to people. And now, he's going to die for it."

Isabel bit her cheek to keep from trying to punch her. "I need you to make sure the other employees get out safely before Vega shows up. I don't want them to end up as collateral damage," she asked instead, with a worried demeanor. “And stick around in case something happens. You know how Kamilah is.”

Nicole flashed her a smile, almost taunting her. She thought that they had already won. "I will do that. Nice knowing you Isabel." she sneered before pushing aside her to walk up the stairwell.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she ran into the garage and hastily opened the outside doors and unlocked the silver sports car. Slamming the door, she put the key in and her seatbelt on. It was then that she vaguely heard shouts from the building.

"Just as you predicted. Man, you're good," Jax whistled.

Isabel smirked although she was still on edge, terrified that their plans would be fooled. "Thanks. Now, I'll drive into the alley and pick you both up. Then, we go get Adrian."

"Roger that."

She started the engine and sped out of the garage, driving for a block before pulling to a quick stop where Jax and Kamilah hastily climbed inside.

"Go," Kamilah ordered looking over her shoulder and Isabel knew that Vega's men were already getting prepared to follow them.

"Hold on tight!" she exclaimed as she pressed hard on the gas pedal, the tires skidding as they drove through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic.

Gripping the seat, Jax asked her, "Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?!"

"Yes. However, we can't infiltrate The Shrike if we get caught now! So, I may have to get creative."

"Point taken."

Checking the rear view mirror, Isabel could see one black SUV that was two cars back that had been with them the entire time.

"This guy is hard to shake," she warned. "Be prepared for sharp turns!"

After a few minutes of turning different corners at high speed, she finally lost the other car and she slowed down a little. They still needed to go fast in order to get to their destination with enough time to pull everything off. The talk with The Baron could go on forever if he chose to drag it out. 

Kamilah proceeded to direct her to where the club was until the familiar facade and the loud jazz music signaled that they had arrived. She pulled the car into an alleyway a few blocks ahead of where Janet was waiting. 

“You finally made it! I was afraid that they had caught you for a minute.”

Isabel smiled. “Vega’s men were doing a good job following us so I had to take some detours.”

This was confirmed by Jax’s groan behind her as they all walked back to the parking lot. “You all owe me drinks after this...and Tylenol,” he grumbled as he set down the secret equipment he brought for down in the cellars. 

“You know we don’t have time for jokes,” she told him. “But, I will be happy to oblige your request later. I’ll probably need some alcohol myself.”

Carefully, they all went over the plan one final time.

"Okay, here’s how this is going to work," Kamilah told them. "Lily, you've hacked into the prison system correct?" 

"Yep. Did that before you even left Adrian's." she said over the ear piece. 

"I trained you well," the senior vampire continued. "Now, I'll go in with you two and try to get The Baron to give us Adrian in exchange for Jax. If that doesn't work then we'll add in plan B." she gave Isabel a look and she nodded.

He was still in the dark about that part. He looked at them confused. “What is plan B? You didn’t say anything about that.”

Isabel gave Kamilah a look. “Can I? she asked, her conscience getting to her. She didn’t want to keep him in the dark any longer.

“It’s your idea.”

“Plan B...is for Kamilah to add to the deal by offering me also.”

Jax’s eyes widened. “What?! That place is dangerous for us...but for you? If something happenes...they could kill you!”

Isabel sighed. “I know, but I want to help Adrian and I’m the one person The Baron would do anything to get rid of.”

“Y-you let her do this?”

“She can hold her own Jax,” Kamilah said. “I wouldn’t agree to it if I didn’t think she could handle it.”

Jax sighed, still not thrilled with the idea. Finally, he tossed Isabel one of the masks which she caught perfectly. “If you’re serious, then you’ll need one of these.”

She smiled at him, a determined fire in her eyes. “With you’re combat skills and my mind, Adrian will be out of there in no time.”

“So, are we good with this part of the plan then?” Kamilah inquired. 

Isabel thought for a moment before gasped. “Wait!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think our end of the deal will work. It’s too obvious.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Baron is already going to assume we want Adrian and if that’s what we offer him, he’s not going to go for it, no matter what we give in return. We need to pretend like Adrian is a lost cause and ask for something else,” she insisted. “Maybe about politics. You know he wants to have as much influence as possible.”

Kamilah considered that. "That's...a good catch Isabel. I have to agree. Okay, how about instead I ask for his vote at the next Council meeting?"

"That should be more convincing," Janet mused, knowing about each of the Leader’s weaknesses. 

"We’ll do that then,” Isabel said, taking over the review. “Moving on, once we have Jax down there, Lily will turn off the lights on our signal. Jax, that’s your cue to attack the guards so you can get the keys and find Adrian. In the meantime, Kamilah will keep The Baron occupied with or without me. There should be a back exit you'll take him to once you've freed him and we've made it out of the club. Then, I will get the car and call Nicole. Hopefully, Adrian will want to go back to Raines Corps for the serum where the trap will be set. Got it?”

Everyone nodded. "Janet, do you have the wires set?" Kamilah asked. 

The redhead replied instantly "Yep. I’m assuming you have the lighter and gasoline?” 

“Of course,” her boss said with a smile, tapping her pocket where the flask and lighter were held. 

Isabel’s heart rate skyrocketed as Janet left. While she wasn’t participating in the actual rescue, she would be getting supplies for when they were on the run. 

"Oh god, I really hope this works!" she exclaimed worriedly. There were so many things that could go wrong. And afterwards, it would be a challenge escaping Adrian's office once they were trapped inside it. She just hoped her gamble would pay off.

Kamilah put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I believe it will. We have to. If we stick to the plan and communicate with each other using the ear pieces we should be fine." The CEO gave her a brief smile. "Besides, they think you're weak because you're mortal. I did once. So let’s use that as our advantage, shall we?"

The pep talk was just what Isabel needed. "Okay, I'm ready.” 

As the three of them finally strolled into The Shrike, every head turned to stare at them. Isabel bristled with nervous energy as the walked deeper into the interior, remembering her treatment the last time. She and Kamilah were holding Jax at both sides with his hands bound in iron shackles, wearing a dejected expression. 

They approached the other end of the long hallway where The Baron's hulking figure was flanked by two of his guards. 

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" he sneered with his hoarse voice, the cigar smoke drifting from his right hand.

Kamilah shoved Jax roughly, causing him to yelp in pain. "Move you Clanless scum," she sternly ordered. 

She was using the anger about Adrian to put on the perfect show.

"Let go of me!" he shouted back, also playing the part. Briefly, Jax met Isabel's eyes and she feigned having to look away apologetically. 

(I hope we're doing the right thing.) 

Her mind raced with troublesome thoughts once more. She didn't want something to happen to him that she couldn't undo. He deserved to live just as much as Adrian did. Swallowing, she put on a neutral expression as the group met The Baron at the midpoint of the room. 

The man doubled over in laughter for several minutes before howling, "And what exactly is this?!" 

Kamilah rolled her eyes. "This is Jax Matsuo. Leader of the Clanless."

The light expression quickly vanished. "I'm familiar."

The mind games were getting annoying for Isabel who crossed her arms. "But did you know he's the one who killed two of your Clan?" she countered angrily.

"Isabel," Jax pleaded, keeping up the act flawlessly. 

As part of the plan, she ignored him and said emotionlessly, "It was him. He did it to rescue me." 

The Baron smirked at them. "Is that so?" he said slow and condescendingly. "Fascinating." He nodded and one of his men suddenly punched him in the stomach. 

"Hfffff!"

"That's just the beginning, you mangy cur," the Clan leader barked. 

Isabel's stomach quivered uneasily, but she steeled her resolve and as The Baron looked toward her with narrowed eyes, she met it with an intense stare. 

(Try it. We'll see who outsmarts who better.)

"And what exactly is this?" he demanded loudly. "Because I always look a gift horse in the mouth."

Kamilah sighed impatiently. "Not a gift. A proposition," she offered. 

Just as Isabel predicted, he scoffed at them. "Don't tell me you think I'll let Adrian go…" She was now grateful that she had them switch strategies last minute. 

"No. I know he's doomed," the other Clan Leader lamented artificially. "I've made peace with that. However, after he's gone, we will vote to determine who will take his place at the head of his Clan.”

"Undoubtedly. I do know how these things work," The Baron replied, almost bored now. 

She continued her explanation of the deal. "I want you to follow my lead in the vote. And in exchange, I will hand Jax over to you, to do what you wish with him."

A smile appeared on the vile man's features. "Ah, Kamilah, how quickly one's mind turns to one's own interests in times of flux…" 

He turned to Isabel and lifted a hand to pet her cheek. This made her sick to her stomach. However, unlike with Lester, she doubted she could get away with physical violence here. Especially not without Adrian to back her up. Instead, she gritted her teeth and glared at him, refusing to look away. 

"And this one," he mused. "I suppose she's yours now?"

"Indeed," Kamilah replied. 

The Baron continued to taunt them. "Sweet little thing. Is she sad about the imminent demise of her dear Adrian?"

Isabel's blood boiled and she couldn't hold back this time, not when he was getting Adrian involved. "Go to hell!"

"Still feisty, I see. I like that…" 

(You can thank my Latina blood.)

He proceeded to pet her as if she were some plaything for him to enjoy. 

Her palms balled into tight fists and she jerked away. "Keep touching me, and you'll see just how feisty I can get."

The tension was escalating quickly...just like she had hoped. Only this part she didn't have to fake. 

"Isabel," Kamilah demanded. This also technically wasn't part of the script and it was also making it more dangerous than it needed to be. She needed to be alive in order to save Adrian and make out in one piece. 

She calmed down inside, going back to faking the emotions. "We made our deal, there's no reason for me to suck up to him any more than I already have," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

Kamilah relaxed and pushed Jax roughly towards The Baron. "So what do you say, Baron? You can have him in exchange for your vote on Adrian's Clan."

He let out a dramatic sigh. "Hmmm, I don't know…" he pondered. 

"Just think how much pleasure you'd get from completely defanging the Clanless movement."

“It would be fun to torture him. But I've already promised Vega my vote. Turning on him will have quite the cost," The Baron replied

"I called it!" Lily said in the earpiece. "Get ready to go in there," she said, her voice laced with concern. 

A cunning, ruthless smile slowly appeared on Kamilah's face, setting the stage for them. 

"Okay," she purred. "How about if I sweeten the deal?"

Meanwhile, Isabel mentally prepared herself for what was next.

"Go on?" The Baron waved his cigar in the air.

The assistant began to play her part and feigned a look of surprise and fear, as if to say that this wasn't part of the plan. Then, on cue Kamilah pushed her towards The Baron and she pretended to gasp in horror. 

"I'll throw her in too," she insisted emotionless. 

"What?" Isabel exclaimed, using the real fear she felt to make her bluff more realistic. "Wait, Kamilah, th-this isn't…"

The CEO shrugged. "Sorry, Isabel. But Adrian's my blood brother. You're just a pet."

They both assumed their respective roles well and now Jax quickly improvising outrage. 

He turned to Isabel fuming. "Ha! You thought the Council were your friends? Little lesson, Isabel...if you swim with sharks, you'll get eaten.”

"Quiet!" Kamilah ordered. 

Almost immediately, The Baron began to fall into their hands. "Well, that's a much more tempting deal. I'm open to negotiation…"

"Excellent." 

Isabel wanted to smile as much as Kamilah was--their bluff was working. However, she had to stay committed. 

"Wait a second…" she pleaded in a false state of alarm. 

"Kamilah, let's go talk in my office," The Baron proceeded to say. "Guards, take these two down to a cell."

Just like that, their risk had paid off. The exhilaration from Isabel's scheme falling right into place took over and she barely managed to keep the frightened expression on her face. The guards grabbed her and Jax and she prepared to give them an encore. 

"No!" Jax shouted, still clueless about what really took place.

"Hey!" she yelped as Kamilah and The Baron departed. She continued her deceitful struggle to resist the two guard as they hustled them away. 

Suddenly, Jax grabbed her arm, desperately trying to get her attention.

She finally looked at him. "You okay?" he asked. She gave him a tiny nod, before looking down dejectedly.

"Hey!" one of the guards growled. "No talking. Let's go!”

Their grip was torn away as they were pushed forward once more. The guards hustled them down some stairs towards a dank, dark cellar where all that could be heard are screams and moans. A chill went up Isabel's spine and she willed herself to remain calm as she thought of Adrian being one of them.

(Don't worry Adrian, I'm coming for you!)

After a minute or so, she realized that she could finally drop her false demeanor. Taking in what she had just done, deceiving The Baron into letting them inside, a sly grin appeared. 

With a sigh, Jax grumbled, “For the record, I’m still not enthused about your self-sacrifice.”

“Duly noted. I’m still helping,” she replied. 

He responded with a scowl. “Jesus Christ, do you even know what you just walked into?” he fumed. “This place is dangerous for vampires, but for you? It could be a death sentence!”

Isabel rolled her eyes, as she became annoyed at him. She was tired of people doubting her. “Hey! Without me, The Baron definitely wouldn’t have let you down here so you’re welcome. And I know what I signed up for! But, I was always taught to put others first.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper so that the guard couldn’t overhear. “And to fight for those I care about, no matter how high the stakes are. Just like you do for the Clanless, right?”

“Yes...but this time if you don’t take care of you, there won’t be a you for you to care for others. For him.”

The head guard then put an end to the heated discussion. 

"I said don't talk! Or we'll start the torture early!" he growled.

Isabel resorted to examining her surroundings. Suddenly, she noticed a fragment on the wall beside her, as if it appeared out of nowhere. 

(What?)

A strange electric feeling consumed her as flashes of a vision consumed her: a meeting in a factory...tortured prisoners...and the members of the Council in sharp 1920's clothes. 

She was strongly drawn to the torn image but managed to snap herself out of it. She didn't have time for that. Plus, she had a feeling of familiarity, as if this had happened before. And that made her suspicious. So she ignored it and it faded from her mind completely, as if it had all been her imagination. 

She shook off the strange encounter as the guards escorted them down a long, dim stone tunnel line with iron-barred prison cells. Taking a deep breath, Isabel started to concentrate on finding Adrian...and that first involved getting the guards off of them. 

"Go on, keep moving!" one of the men ordered as her mind analyzed every detail, an eerie calmness washing over her. She was doing what she did best and for a cause, one she wanted more than any other. Her attention caught momentarily on the rows of cells as dozens of prisoners, both mortal, and vampire, pleaded and cried as she passed by. 

"Please...help me…"

"M-My daughter...she's out there...she n-needs me…"

Isabel could see that it was living up to its hype. The place smelled like rotting meat and sounded like the depths of hell. 

(God, this is unbearable.) 

As much as she wanted to look away, she couldn't. She had to look for Adrian. 

(Is he in one of these cells?)

She looked to her left and met eyes with a miserable looking man, his body was bloody and bruised and he clutched the bars of his cell.

"Please, I...I…"

She gave him a sympathetic look. She wished that they could rescue them all but, she doubted that was possible. "S-Sorry…"

The gas-powered torches around them flickered and pulsed even as the prisoners begged and moaned. 

"Damn," Jax muttered angrily. "I'd heard rumors about this place, but it's so much worse than I thought."

"Who are these people?" she asked. 

It was the noisy guard who answered. "Criminals that didn't pay their dues. People that got nosy. Members of The Baron's Clan who got outta line. Really it's just anyone who pissed off the boss."

As if Isabel needed more reasons to hate him. Ruling a Clan like a dictator and torturing members if the don't obey was pushing it, even for him.

"And he's allowed to do this?" 

The burly man shrugged nonchalantly. "What the Council don't know can't hurt 'em, right?"

The hidden microphone on her shirt picked up everything, and she knew Kamilah heard. 

"Speaking of which…" The guards slowed down in front of an open cell and prepared to push her and Jax inside. With a smile, the man guard sneered, "Your new home." 

Jax turned and looked her in the eye. They both nodded in agreement. 

(Not so fast.)

"Now!" he growled. 

Isabel whispered into the microphone wired into her clothing. "Go!"

Back at Kamilah's office, Lily heard the command loud and clear. "Copy that."

Using Janet's intel and the company's powerful computer system, she had hacked into the prison system. Hitting the Master Power button, she teased, "Lights out, assholes."

Inside the dungeon, the torches' gas valves snapped shut, and at once, they all went dark.

"What the hell?" the guard exclaimed as everything was plunged into complete darkness. 

Smirking Isabel and Jax slipped on the infrared goggles that they had hidden underneath their shirts.  

"Ready?" she asked, determined now more than ever to save Adrian. 

"Let's do this," he replied. 

"What happened? Where'd the lights go?" The guard was still trying to figure out what had happened. 

Jax stepped inside the open cell and used the metal bedpost to break the chains of his handcuffs. Smiling, he said, "And now…" He threw open his jacket to reveal a pair of sheathed daggers. "Showtime."

Isabel pulled out the pink pepper spray hidden underneath her sweater. It wasn't a lot but, it would create more distraction.

Jax suddenly sprung into action, moving in a graceful twirl. With a forceful throw, he buried one stake up to the hilt into a guards chest, causing him to instantly crumple into a pile of ash. 

The other guard fumbled in the dark seething to himself. "You sneaky, little…"

Jax lunged at him, but the guard was too fast and too strong. He hit Jax with a hard backhand, knocking him to the floor. His knife clattered out of his hands. 

"Crap!"

"Jax!" Isabel exclaimed as the guard swiveled, slamming the cell door shut behind him to trap Jax inside. Then, he turned to her menacingly. "My eyes have adjusted," he boasted. "Which means you're dead meat, girl."

(Uh oh.)

She swallowed, desperately looking around for anything to defend herself. He came forward in the dark, getting close to her and her mind raced quickly. Then, she noticed the keys dangling from his pocket which she could probably reach. 

Using the anger she felt about Adrian, she pulled out the mace and sprayed it before running towards him at top speed, surprising him as she smashed into him. 

"Rarrrgh!""What the hell?!"

Taking advantage of the confusion in the darkness, she kneed him in the groin before hastily unhooked the keys hanging off his belt loop, and dashed to the cell door.

 "Hey!"

"Isabel?" Jax warned as she unlocked the cell door and looked just in time to see the guard rush her from behind, grabbing her tightly. 

"Isabel!"

His breath was hot in her ear. "What do you think you're doing?!" At least a foot taller and two hundred pounds heavier, he picked her up easily by the collar, her feet dangling helplessly. 

"Hey!" she shrieked, trying violently kick him in the shins. 

Suddenly she heard Jax's voice. "Let. Her. Go." He rolled out of the cell and drove his dagger into the guard's kneecap. "Ugggkkk!"

The guard dropped her and Jax ripped the knife free before driving it into his chest. On top of him, he smirked, "Gotcha."

The guard crumpled into ash, as Jax walked out of the cell. 

Isabel looked at him impressively. "Nice moves, Matsuo."

He chuckled in response. "You weren't too bad yourself."

"Think we're doing okay?" she asked, catching her breath.

 He thought for a moment. "Don't hear any alarms, so I think we pulled it off. Let's hope Kamilah's holding her own with The Baron."

They heard her chuckle before faintly telling The Baron she thought she heard something amusing. They took that as a cue that everything was smooth on her end.

 Isabel spoke into the earpiece mic again. "Lily, lights on please."

"You got it!" Hitting a key on the computer, she restored power and the lights flickered back on. 

Anticipation made Isabel's stomach fill with butterflies and whole body tingle with an electric feeling. Now they just had to find Adrian. Her and Jax peeled off the goggles and began to quickly head down the hallway looking for him. 

"Do you see him?" she asked worriedly. 

(Stay strong Adrian. You'll be out of there soon.)

Jax shook his head, and saw that her emotions were clouding her focus. "No...and we need to hurry before they realize what we've done. By my count, we've got three, maybe four minutes."

“Right. Luckily, I have been told that I’m perceptive.”

As she regained her high concentration, the pleading faces of the other prisoners continued to stare out at them from cells lining the hallway. Isabel felt horrible as they reached out hands and called out as she passed by, but right then, she had a single-minded focus. After a minute of endlessly searching with no luck, she decided her best bet was to start calling for him. She hoped, needed him to recognize her voice. 

"A-Adrian!...Adrian!" she exclaimed desperately. 

Almost instantly, she heard something like a groan that she instantly knew was his and her heartbeat quickened. "Jax, over here!" 

She ran as fast as she could to the cell where it came from and found him in a drugged state slumped against the back corner. Seeing his condition, she instantly felt her eyes water as her heart broke. 

"Oh my god," she whimpered.

 He slowly lifted his head up and his face twisted with mixed emotions. 

"Isabel? Is...Is that really you?" he managed to whisper. 

She nodded before yelling to Jax, "Quick! The keys!"

"Here!" 

She fumbled with them as the tears spilled over causing her hands to shake. 

“Come on Isabel, come on,” she muttered.

Finally, she found the right one and unlocked the cell before immeditely rushing to Adrian's side. His face was haggard and his eyes were bloodshot. Her feelings took over as she impulsively crushed him to her for a few moments, all of the emotions she had been feeling over the course of the night flooding out. She let out a sigh of relief when he made the effort to embraced her back. “It’s okay! You’re okay.”

After a minute, she pulled back enough to see his face. He looked at her in shock. "You...came for me. I had this...hope but...I didn’t think..you actually did this...for me.”

She gave him a tearful smile. 

"Of course I did," she cried. "I would never leave you." She reached out and touched his cheek and in return, he squeezed her hand tightly. She bit her lip before admitting, “You mean too much to me now.”

"Isabel, I…"

As much as she wanted to hear his voice, she knew that he needed to save his strength for the escape. "Shh. Talk later. Let's get you out of here."

She heard footsteps coming down the stairs towards the dungeon and knew that they had to make it quick. 

"Not to break up this oh-so-touching reunion, but we're about to have company," Jax said sternly.

Isabel nodded, her focus coming back to where it needed to be. "We need to get out of here. Like now."

On cue, they heard a guard exclaim, "What the hell is going on down there?"

She scanned the rest of the prison with the blueprints pictured in her mind and found what they needed. "Quick! The back exit.”

“Getting Nicole as bait now,” Lily said from the office.

"Come on," Isabel told Adrian. "We'll help carry you." Hastily, her and Jax helped him towards the back stairs. But as they're almost at the the door, Isobel noticed a lever labeled, "MASTER CELL DOOR RELEASE". 

"This would free them all. All of The Baron's prisoners," Jax confirmed.

Adrian scowled, adding angrily, "Not to mention wreak total chaos on his operation."

(Releasing The Baron's prisoners would let us get some revenge. Plus, we could have allies for the fight ahead with Vega!)

Isabel looked back and saw that they had just enough time if they acted now.

"Then what are we waiting for?" she shouted, all of the anger for Vega and The Baron as well Nicole hit her all at once. "Let's pull that damn lever!" 

She grasped the heavy metal level with both hands and tried to pull by herself, but it wouldn't budge. Then she saw why: with the amount of rust on it, it looks like it probably hasn't been touched in decades. "Oh, come on!" she fumed.

She heard the hurried footsteps of a small pack of guards coming down the front stairs and her heart rate accelerated. Suddenly, both Jax and Adrian both put their hands over hers. She looked up at them in surprise that quickly morphed into determination. She met Adrian's intense stare and she felt the electricity in their eyes. 

"Let's do this," he thundered. 

Jax joined in on the sentiment. "Hell yeah." 

All three of them pulled hard and the level slammed down with a thud. Isabel beamed as every cell door along the hallway creaked open simultaneously. 

"That is badass!" Lily exclaimed. 

A stunned silence overtook the prison. Then loud hollering filled the space as the prisoners started streaming out of their cells. Isabel felt electric, as if she was a superhero.

(This is what making a better world feels like!)

"Follow us!" Isabel yelled, overcome with relief and joy. She turned and ran as fast as she could up the stairs, with Jax and Adrian close behind. The prisoners began to follow them.

"We're free! Oh my god, we're actually free!"

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Hurry, they're right behind us!"

Isabel looked over her shoulder and saw the guards catch the pack of fleeing prisoners on the stairs. Then, a brawl broke out and she watched in shock and delight as the guards were hurled down, kicked in the head, and one was even impaled on his own weapon. 

"Whoa…" And here she thought she had seen it all. 

"What's going on?" Jax exclaimed, turning to see the commotion.

“A revolution.” As much as Isabel wanted to stay, they couldn't. They needed to be at the office in time to set the trap for Nicole. "Just keep going! Get Adrian out of here!"

They did as she was told as she looked back and saw a small figure emerge from one of the cells. Eventually she noticed that it was a small child. The little boy was in old-fashioned clothes, looking around quietly.

(Oh my god! I've got to go back and get him!)

"Wait here! I'll be back in a minute!" she told Jax and Adrian.

She bucked the tide of prisoners streaming up the stairs, hugging the wall as she made her way back to the boy. "Hi there, little guy." His brow pinched as he looked up at her.

 He spoke in a foreign language. "A kto ti?"

"I...don't know what that means. But I'm Isabel."

"A ya Vladimir. Zdrasti." She vaguely made out that he was probably Russian and it was his name. That was not one of the three languages she had studied. 

"Right. Why don't you come with me and I'll get you out of here?"

She heard Jax swear on the earpiece and ask Adrian, "What the hell is she doing?!" 

His mic barely picked up on the response. "What always does, put others first."

Smiling to herself, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit with you. "I couldn't just leave him behind! He's just a kid!"J

Just then a guard, a greasy vampire she recalled seeing in The Shrike the first time she visited, came up behind her. His eyes glowed bright red. "Stop right there!" He lunged forward, and she dodged once before he knocked her down to the ground. 

"Oooof!" she yelped, hitting the ground hard. She scrambled to get up, scowling as he sneered at her. "Get...away from him!" 

She was still trying to regain her breath. 

"Looks like you're too slow," the creep replied.

In anger, she pulled out the pepper spray and dowsed him as he started for the boy. “I said, don’t touch him!”

“ARGH!” Seething, the vampire clutched his forehead in agony. “I’ll be back for you!” He approached the kid menacingly.

As Isabel approached, prepared to try to defend him, the boy stared at her, then his expression changed making her stop in her tracks. 

"Eto bula oshibka." he growled, startling the creepy guard. 

"Wait...what now?" 

Faster than any vampire Isabel had seen the boy pounced, tackling the man to the ground. "Raaaaaaaghhhhhh!"

"No! Wait! Get off of me!" Shrieking and hissing, the child tore into vampire, driving his thumbs into the man's still inflamed eyes with a wet squish.

"Oh my god!" Isabel shrieked. "Um guys, I think he'll be fine. I'm...just going to keep running now." She hurried to catch up with Jax and Adrian, managing to avoid the remaining fights and bloody confrontations on the stairs. "Did you see that?" she gasped, rejoining them. 

"Holy crap that kid is terrifying!" Jax replied with a nod. Adrian looked equally horrified. 

Finally they all burst out onto the street level amid the stream of escaping prisoners. Around the corner outside, Kamilah paced anxiously. As the three of them rushed out, she looked up and a relieved smile appeared. 

"You made it!" she exclaimed, her clothes ripped in several places. 

Examining her, Isabel was quick to determine how they got there. “And The Baron?” she asked with worry. 

"Bashed his head in with a trophy in his office. He should be down for quite some time."

"Oh my god!" 

Meanwhile, Adrian stood there silently, trying to take everything in. Finally he said, "I'm not usually one to question a rescue, but do we have a getaway plan?"

Isabel smiled proudly before pulling out the car keys safely in her back pocket. "You'd better believe it." 

She quickly disappeared, leaving him utterly speechless. She ran the two blocks where his sports car was still parked in the alleyway and climbed inside. Seconds later, she screeched to a halt back in front of them, a smirk on her face. 

“Adrian," she said with a wink. "What do you think?”

Adrian looked at her with an impressed smile. "Isabel. I really need to stop underestimating you." 

They all piled inside.  "Hang on!" she ordered hitting the gas pedal hard. As she zoomed away, she looked back and saw hoards of exhilarated former prisoners flooding out into the street. Behind them The Shrike suddenly went up in flames. 

"Timed it perfectly," Kamilah said, sitting back in the seat with satisfaction. 

"Did you set The Shrike on fire?!" Adrian wondered looking back at the now raging inferno.

Isabel nodded. "Janet planted the wires before we got here and Kamilah used the gasoline when she was done with The Baron." Then, she returned her attention to the road.

Granted, she didn't think they would have to worry about the prisoners when they planned it. She realized that all of them hurt and crowding the streets probably put them in danger.

Kamilah answered. "Normally, maybe not. But with the chaos that's about to sweep this city, I suspect most of them will be able to escape into the shadows."

"Besides," Jax scoffed. "Anything's better than being locked in there."

"True…" Isabel sighed, deftly piloting the car through the city streets as a comfortable silence spreads through the vehicle. "Jax, can you call Nicole for me?" she asked, ready to initiate the last part of the plan. 

He nodded and grabbed her phone, dialing the VP and putting her on speaker. 

"Hello? What is it?" the blonde snapped and Isabel had to bite her tongue. 

"Did Lily tell you about our rescue plan?" she asked urgently."

Yes...why? Did something go wrong?"

"No, not at all. In fact, we got Adrian out! He's in the car with us."

"What? That's...incredible," Nicole said, though her tone didn't quite match the words. "I didn't think you would be able to do it."

(Oh, I know. Keep underestimating me.)

Biting her tongue, Isabel told her, "Look, if you still want to be a part of the plan, can you meet us somewhere with a change of clothes?"

"...yeah, I can do that, for Adrian, of course. I'll meet you near Central Park," Nicole said before abruptly hanging up. 

"That was...rather odd," Adrian observed, his brow furrowed. 

(Oh, you have no idea.) 

Isabel sighed but didn't say anything. He needed for the upcoming betrayal to be a surprise. A few minutes of silence passed before the madness of what transpired hit her fully.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed sitting back in the seat amazed. "I can't believe we actually pulled that off!"

"Of course it did, you're plan was brilliant!" Lily exclaimed as Jax pounded a fist triumphantly against the ceiling. 

"Hot damn," he whistled. "I'll give you Council vamps this, you know how to make a night exciting."

Even Kamilah was beaming. "Good work. All of you."

It wasn't long before they pulled into the curb at the edge of the park and Nicole ran up to meet them. 

"Here's a suit, boss," she said through the rolled down window. "Figured you might need it." She joined the crew in the back seat and they began to drive again. 

"Thank you," Adrian told her. In the passenger seat, he quickly changed into his suit before staring out of the window silently.

Isabel could help becoming nervous again. She had no idea how they were getting out of Adrian's office when they were probably going to be surrounded. She figured they would do that on the spot, but there was a lot of risk involved.

Sighing, she found his hand and gently squeezed it. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly. "Did they hurt you?"

He smiled at her wearily. "They tried," he told her, jaw clenched.

"Oh no…"

She met his gaze as he continued. "The guards have some...novel methods of torture. But I'll live."

From the rearview mirror, she caught a brief change in Nicole's expression. An evil smile maybe? It was so faint, she barely noticed it. But it was enough to confirm her suspicions and make the precautions worth it. Nicole was in on it, Isabel felt it in her gut.

Turning back to Adrian, she stammered, "I'm glad we got you out of there when we did."

"Me too." He smiled at her gently before turning his head to speak to the others in the car.

"I need to thank you. All of you," he told them. "Kamilah, this couldn't have been easy for you to do. You've openly defied the Council…"

"I've lost one brother. I'm not losing another," she replied sternly.

Next, Adrian looked over at Jax. "And thanks to you, too. I don't think we've been properly introduced."

Isabel felt dumb for not mentioning it in the parking lot. "Oh, Adrian, this is Jax Matsuo. He's, uh...Clanless."

His eyes narrowed and the two regarded each other warily.

She felt the need to say something more. "Jax is also the one who helped me escape The Shrike before...remember? I promise he's trustworthy, he just wants to protect his people."

"Mr. Matsuo. Your reputation precedes you," Adrian finally said nodding.

Jax simply tilted his head. "Does it now? And what exactly have you heard about me?"

"Good things. Mostly," the CEO replied, looking briefly at Isabel who breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, well, that's what I've heard about you too. Your friends made some pretty big promises. I expect you to keep them."

Adrian hesitated before reaching out to extend his hand. Jax stared at it in surprise before shaking it.

"To a long and fruitful relationship," the Clan leader said.

"If you say so." It was shaky but, it was a good start.

Kamilah cleared her throat. "First things first," she told them. "We need to get out of the city as soon as we can. It's not safe for us here right now. Once word gets out about what happened, every vampire in the city's going to be hunting us."

"I know we need to run...but first we need to stop by my office first. For the serum," Adrian replied with a frown.

Isabel was once again right on the nose. She and Kamilah made eye contact and exchanged a look.

Kamilah feigned shock. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Serum?" Jax inquired confused.

Isabel forgot that they hadn't filled him in on that part. She sighed, "It's...a long story." Then she turned to the passenger seat and said, "Adrian, that's something you need to do. I'm not saying it's a good idea, but I get why you need to do it. I trust you."

He gave her a sad smile. "I appreciate that, Isabel. I wouldn't even dream of it if it wasn't important." Then, his face twisted in anger. "Vega set this whole thing up to get his hands on it. It's too powerful to risk falling into his hands."

(Already have that covered, but you can't know that yet.)

"Isn't it in that super-secure safe?"

She was referring to the one in the office, where she had destroyed the first batch.

Adrian sucked in a breath. "That safe buys us time. But sooner or later, he'll find a way to get in."

Nicole smiled, though not for the reason he thought. "I agree. The serum needs to be protected, It's the corporation's most valuable asset."

She clearly thought that this was playing into her hands. Little did she know, Isabel was already two steps ahead.

Kamilah frowned. "Fine," she surrendered. "We'll just grab it and go."

The plan was unfolding almost perfectly.

"Is anyone going to tell me what this magical serum actually does?" Jax wondered, eyes wide.

Isabel did the explaining, once she received a nod from both Adrian and Kamilah. "It lets vampires walk in the sunlight."

"What?! You know what? From now on, I'm just not going to ask any more questions."

"Probably for the best," Adrian agreed.

Isabel quickly pulled up to the curb in front of the Raines Corporation building and Adrian and Nicole hopped out.

"We'll be right back," he told them.

Jax's eyebrows raised. "Never stops with you lot, does it?"

"Never," Kamilah sighed. She gave Isabel the signal. 

Nodding, she jumped out of the car too, joining them. She wasn't going to let Nicole trap him in there alone.

"What do you think you're doing?" the blonde asked with an icy glare, now rattled. "We'll just be a moment."

Crossing her arms, Isabel stood her ground. "Um, I'm definitely coming. I've been through all of this with Adrian so far. I'm not stopping now."

(Plus I'm the one who knows what you're really up to.)

She could see the wheels turning in Nicole's head, scrambling to try and throw her off. "I'm just...looking out for your safety. Who knows what Vega might have up his sleeve."

Adrian interrupted their argument. "We'll be in and out before anyone knows we're here. But we have to go now."

"I'm still coming with you," she demanded. 

After a minute he nodded over Nicole's continued protests. "Okay Isabel, if you’re positive. She is perfectly capable of doing this Nicole. I wouldn't have hired her if she wasn't."

“I am. If something goes wrong, I want to be there."

"I'll be ready in case you need a getaway driver," Jax told them before jumping into the driver's seat with a smile. "Sweet ride…"

With an amused smile, Adrian commented, "Fine. You dent it, the deal's off."

Leaving Kamilah and Jax in the car, they headed upstairs with Nicole to Adrian's office. His gaze fixated momentarily at the torn security equipment before getting into the office.

"Hurry. Please," the blonde fretted.

Isabel knew she was rushing for a different reason. She sat back watching Nicole like a hawk, her arms folded tightly as she dreaded the interaction that would occur next.

Adrian headed to the wall and exposed the hidden panel. His fingertips glided over it, the elegant complex series of patterns Isabel did a few hours earlier. Her breath hitched in anticipation as she heard the gears whirling, latches clicking, and the operation of the powerful mechanism. The wall slid open to reveal his safe and the serum that was supposed to be inside. 

"And there it is," he said smiling. He reached for it, but just as he did so, the door to the conference room flew open.

She wasn't surprised and yet she still gasped. More to do with her suspicions being correct. Still wearing the earpiece she whispered. "Code red!"

This alerted Kamilah and Jax back in the car to prepare for an escape and Adrian looked at her confused but she couldn't say anything. 

"I hope you can get him out of there Isabel!" Kamilah exclaimed as a half-dozen vampires burst into the office, leveling crossbows at Adrian.

"Oh my god!" she shouted, the scene frightening her even though she knew it was coming.

Furious, Adrian looked around frantically. "What is this?"

His assistant answered for him, shooting daggers at Nicole. "A trap Adrian!”

The blonde's eyes narrowed at her as she realized that something was amiss with her rouse.

A soldier ordered, "The serum. Now."

"I know you. You're one of Vega's men!" Adrian roared.

"What I am is the guy about to put a bold through your heart! Hand over that serum!"

"Never!"

Isabel watched the man start to lunge for Adrian and jumped into action. She impulsively lept in front, putting herself right in between him and the guards. "Stop! Don't shoot him!" she growled.

Adrian looked at her in shock. "Isabel, what are you doing?!"

She stopped for a moment.

(What am I doing?)

Then her resolve crystalized and her scowl returned as Nicole stepped forward. She planted herself more firmly against him. "I'm protecting you, since I'm the only one in here who will."

The blonde rolled her eyes before beginning her monologue. "Enough. This is over."

Adrian's looked at both of them bewildered before turning to his VP. "Nicole! Run! They'll shoot you!"

Isabel shook her head. "No Adrian, they won't. Will they?" she demanded, wishing she could interrupt what came next.

"What?"

"No, you're right Isabel. I don't think they will," Nicole replied, smiling mischievously.

The crossbows remained trained on her and Adrian and he looked over at her. "What is she doing?"

"Betraying you," she told him bitterly.

Then, Nicole took her place alongside Vega's men. "Sorry, boss. But that serum is mine now."

Isabel watched Adrian's expression darken as he realized her assistance was a trap. But, unbeknownst to Nicole, she had an ace up her sleeve which she could finally reveal.  

The mental game of chess was coming to an end. She was coming for the king, and she sure as hell wasn't going to miss. 

.....

[samurulantis]

Honest Q&A - Samuru Lantis

(Art by @dennydraws)

What is your full name? “Samuru Lantis Yumemiru.”

What do your friends call you? "Ah the typical nickname I go by is Ru, short and sweet. I’ve also been called teacup due to my small size and peacock thanks to my color choices. I’m rather fond of them all!”

What is your favorite animal? "Mmm perhaps a bit obvious but I enjoy birds in general, especially vibrantly colored ones. They are so sweet and adorable.”

Where were you born? "The Black Shroud.”

Do you have any children? “Yes, I have one daughter named Grace. She is the light of my life and I fully intend to have more children in the future. Thankfully Isen is on board!”

Is there a person/people you love? “Oh yes absolutely, quite a few at that! The love of my life is my husband Isen Yumemiru, a man that I would gladly lay down my life for and beyond. My closest companion is Teledji Adaledji, a spunky little Lalafell merchant who enjoys taking day trips with me. One of my oldest friends is Meyla Sarka, a woman with quite a bit of fire and strength in her and I greatly admire her for it. Arismont Juliembert is a bit timid and bumbling but he means well. There were rocky times at first but now I consider him a trusted friend.  There is also Destiney Delvanguard who I find incredibly sweet and trustworthy and I enjoy having conversations with. There are so many others but I feel this would go on forever but know I love them all very much.” [ @high-stakes-gambler @tidusyumemiru @msarka @arismont-juliembert @nebula1984 for mention]

What is your favorite colour? "Blue, absolutely blue. If my clothing choices don’t give it away enough then I am not trying hard enough!”

What is your full occupation? "I am a Master Alchemist and own a shop called Alchemania. It is full time work but I love it and couldn’t be happier with my profession. Consider it a life’s dream come true.”

Are you good at physical fighting? "No, definitely not. I’m far too petite and delicate to be considered a physical fighter. Not to mention I don’t really enjoy bruised and bloodied knuckles.”

Which form are you best at? “Duck and cover.”

What about magic? "In terms of combat I am more magically inclined. I like to keep my distance from the enemy and try to incapacitate them before they get close. Thankfully I haven’t had to fight often since I’ve quit the adventuring business.”

Which type are you best at? “I specialize in the ways of the Summoner. I find I have excellent skills in terms of concentration and conjuring my loyal egi’s to fight at my side.”

Craftsmanship? “Mmm I do like to knit, if that is considered a part of the same category. While I’d never call myself a skilled weaver, it is a fun pastime when I’ve exhausted all other duties for the day. Of course there is also Alchemy but I’ve spoken about that.”

Any other skills? “I love to cook! Preparing a hot meal for my family every day brings me an endless supply of joy. I also adore stuffing my guests to the brim with treats and snacks, as many who know me are aware of. I almost feel bad for visitors as they must think I’m going to fatten them up and then stuff them into an oven. Tsk...”

Are you an only child? “.....When I was growing up yes. But I am not sure if that is the case now. I’d rather not discuss it.”

Where do you see yourself in five years? “Still in the Alchemy business and raising two children alongside my husband. I don’t forsee much changing because I think our lives are where we want them to be. Of course I can’t predict the future and anything could change. For now though I like to imagine we’ll remain comfortable and happy.”

Have you ever almost died? “Mm yes...a few times. Sometimes I’m not sure how I’ve survived.”

Do you have a secret, not just a secret, but like a really big secret hardly anyone knows? “Yes I do...and as of right now only two people know it.”

Salty or sweet? "Sweet! How ironic I married a man who prefers sour...”

Do you like yourself? "Yes, absolutely. I think there are plenty of things TO like about me. Get to know me and you’ll see it too.”

Do you believe in the Twelve? “I believe in the destruction and confusion they cause, along with their uncanny ability to stomp logic straight out of the equation.”

Are you religious? "I believe you make your own lot in life.”

Do you carry prejudice with you? "A little, but I’ve tried not to. I know what my parents were like and I’ve pushed hard not to adopt their terrible policies. Unfortunately you take some things from your youth with you well into adulthood. All you can do is remain consciously aware of your outdated viewpoints and correct them as necessary.”

What do you consider entertainment? “I enjoy watching theater productions, musicals, listening to orchestra’s, reading an engaging book fiction or otherwise, discovering new potion mixtures or elements, taking a nice walk on a nice day, having a swim, and so forth. The little but important pleasures in life.”

Favourite drink? "Tea with a touch of cream, sugar and honey.”

Do you have any family traditions? "My family does but I’ve fairly well ignored them to adopt my own.”

Are you a good person? "Yes, I like to think so. But I know there are some who would say otherwise.”

Thank you for answering my questions. “You’re welcome. Please stay for a spell and finish your slice of cake, I have plenty more where that came from.”

Tagged by: @ganchinuaxiv @high-stakes-gambler maybe others? 

Tagging: @ylaziel @tidusyumemiru @nightmaze @wowiedima @nebula1984 @riskibusiness @eorzean-wayfinder @aethersent @dayst-ffxiv @elisiaheartnet @khojin-arulaq @arismont-juliembert and anyone else who hasn’t/would like to. I know I’m super late to the game @_@