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imstillworkingonit · 4 years ago

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CR AU: When Jester was not there to answer the door

I fell into the widojest hole about a month ago (literally reactivated my tumblr to follow the tag) and had some FEELINGS about yesterday’s episode and the potential conversations that could have been had if things had been a little bit different. I’ve never attempted fanfiction before, but here’s the AU oneshot for if Jester hadn’t been there to answer Fjord’s knock. I wrote it directly after the episode through the night, so please excuse any glaring characterization errors or typos. This is just what my brain needed to do. (Also, no hate to the budding romance between our handsome half-orc and adorable tiefling—they’re not my favorite ship but they’re still friggin precious.)

>>>>>>

It was not a sudden realization. Jester’s incessant flirting had waned over the past months, and while her initial words had sounded childish to him, the lack thereof was jarring. Fjord missed it. Then came the little moments, where Jester’s light shone so bright it blinded him, even through closed eyelids. She was, indeed, very charming. Hard not to enjoy her company, really.

So when he saw her, frozen in the middle of those stone statues, his world stopped. What is a world without her smile, her laugh, her brightness? Her constant joy that had helped tear him away from the darkness that was his past?

But she came out of it. Shocked, scared, changed, but alive. And then the fear came. The bitter winds of Eiselcross tore through his winter coat, but his body was too warm. The adrenaline that typically came with a fight kicked in, and he began triaging. Gathering information that had cost too much. All the while, in the back of his mind: “I could have lost you.” and “I have to keep you close.” and “I need to tell you how dear you are to me.” So he began rehearsing.

Words had always come easy to him, but there was too much he wanted to say. “I promised your mother I would protect you.” “I don’t want to see you throwing yourself into danger.” “I want to keep you close and never let go.” How far is too far? It took longer than he expected after dinner and the evening’s events and interrogations to properly finalize what he wanted to say. It was the fear in the pit of his stomach that allowed him to spend only a brief few seconds considering what Jester’s response to his declarations would be. Fear, and perhaps a lack of doubt about her response.

Fjord made his way up to the bedroom floors of the tower, and he knocked on her door. “Jester?”

There was no response. He waited for a breath and a half, face hot, and head down, then knocked again. “Jester, are you in there?”

He waited for another minute or so, resisting the desperate curiosity. Is she in there and just doesn’t want to see him? That wasn’t true, was it? But if not, where could she be?

…

After Jester left the tower’s dining area, she went directly to her bathroom. Without looking in the mirror, she carefully shrugged the layers of her winter clothes off and daintily folded them beside her. One at a time. They felt different on her now, somehow wrong. Once they were all removed, Jester slowly brought her eyes up, and made eye contact with herself in the mirror. Moving slowly, she traced the lines of her face. The difference between one’s early twenties and their late twenties isn’t a lot, especially for blue tieflings with pretty rockin’ genetics. It is, however, a lot to see at once.

Her horns were indeed ¾ of an inch longer than they were. She pulled at her hairline, checking for… yes. There they were. A smattering of shimmering silver hairs interspersed with the blue. Not too many, just a couple on each side, but noticeable to her. Her fingers traced down her face. Some of her remaining baby fat had gone—she finally saw her mama’s cheekbones on her own face, and there was also something in her more defined jawline that reminded her of the Gentleman. There were, in addition to the cheekbones, lines on her face for the first time. The tiniest of crows feet, some smile lines around her mouth. Those… those would take some getting used to.

Her hands moved downward, poking and prodding at the skin of her collarbones and down her arms. Her skin feels different. Less hydrated, less springy. Older. Her breasts were fuller, perhaps her hips were as well, but everything just… off. Unrecognizable, even to an artist’s touch.

Her fingers stopped prodding and started scratching, itchy in a blink. This skin, this body, is not really mine. It belongs to some older woman, who just looks exactly like me.

The panic came not just from the change in her body—it also came from the loss of what she could have done with all that time.

How many pranks won’t be pranked because I lost the years that I was going to do them? What if my brain is different too, and that this new future Jester brain, when it catches up, won’t love painting, and dicks, and pranks? What if the Traveller doesn’t bother with me anymore, decides I’ve changed and I’m not fun enough? I got my statue question answered, but how much am I going to lose? Oh... Traveller. What if the Nein only kept me around for my smile, my sunshine? Will I lose that?

This will pass. This feeling has to pass.

She found herself curled on the bathroom floor, staring into nothing, eyes aching with unshed tears. In half a moment, she was on her feet, groaning with new pains, and grabbing a nightgown and robe. Not her usual, ostentatiously and horrendously pink ones, but a peach-ish set. She stared around at her room, at the winter clothes she’d paid a fortune for, at the corner of the secret Nicodranas painting on the canopy over her bed, and even that felt wrong somehow.

Imposter.

She picked up her sketchbook, but couldn’t find it in herself to open it. What could she say to the Traveller: “Hi Artie, guess what, I just lost five years and I’ll never get them back. I had really great plans for all of my time on the earth and now I’ve lost part of that. I’m still here but I’ve lost part of me. I’m haunted by what the statues gave me and what they took. I can’t get the image of what they showed out of my head, and I’m afraid to show any of my friends anything less than my best new smile because that’s all they need from me.” Yeah, that conversation would go well.

The Traveller wouldn’t understand. No one could. Except… someone who had lost years themselves.

She found herself at Caleb’s door.

…

Caleb couldn’t deny that he appreciated what age had done for Jester’s appearance. She had always been a beautiful woman, but now it was shockingly apparent. He had foolishly blurted that out twice too many times upon the discovery of this change, this loss, as well. But it’s something that she needed reinforced, because gods she’s young—so young—and five years at that age is fifteen for anyone else. Not that he would know, he’d lost that time too.

She seemed fine, though distressed at first, and was back to her cheerful self in short order. The rest of the Nein followed her lead, and all seemed well throughout dinner. Caleb was not keeping a closer eye on Jester throughout dinner, he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but notice that, whenever Jester thought there weren’t any eyes on her, her eyes went dark. Her smile became increasingly hollow as the meal progressed, and she departed quickly. Caleb’s ever-sharp mind immediately reminded him that this was Jester’s facade cracking, just as it had done after the Iron Shepherds. Her steps, as she moved away from the tables, were fragile too, as if she wasn’t sure she could rely on her own feet.

He bid his own goodbyes to the remaining members of the group shortly afterward. He had research to do. For someone as full of life as Jester to lose her youth, her confidence in herself, to be haunted so deeply from the actions taken in the blink of an eye… he knew there had to be a way to reverse it, he just needed to figure out how. Of all the arcane tomes he’d devoured during his early days at the Academy, of all the snippets and scrolls he’d glanced through on the road or in random bookshops, something had to have the answer. He just needed to find it.

In the back of his mind, he was reminded: To show her you love her, but never say it.

“Georg, Cinnamon, Pancake, Rickon, please gather all the compatriots you can, and bring me all research in this tower that may include information on powerful restorative spells accessible to an arcane caster such as, ah, yours truly. Thank you.” The cats nodded in understanding and padded off in search of Caleb’s requested materials.

It was but a few minutes before a parade of amber-colored cats came back through the cat-flaps, each one carrying a tome, a scroll, or a report. Once the cats placed their selections near the small desk in the corner, they disappeared back through the cat-flaps, and Caleb settled down to work. It will be a long night of research, Ermendrud. Buckle in.

Caleb, after no more than twenty one and a half minutes, was broken out of his research reverie by a quiet, brisk knock at the door. “Caleb?” Jester’s voice whispered.

Ah, sheisse. Jester. What could she possibly want from the tower’s resident eccentric and broken old man? What could she possibly want that I have? “Coming.” Caleb quickly closed and stacked the research materials behind him, and opened the door a crack.

She stood in the doorway with doll-like eyes. Glassy and empty. Her body was slouched, nothing like the confident woman from this morning. She didn’t say a word.

“Ah, Jester. What can I do for you?” She shrugged, looking hollowly past Caleb’s shoulder. A smile flashed across her lips, but not for long. It was a cruel and empty smile, a smile found much more commonly on his own face than on hers. Jester’s facade had finally broken.

It wasn’t that long ago that that hollow look had been plastered on his own face. The Nein had not been together that long. Before them, Caleb had been a cruel and empty man. He knew those eyes, and he knew that smile. Because not long ago that he’d woken up in the sanatorium and realized that he’d lost eleven precious years of life, of learning, of youth. Of pain and suffering and truth and forgiveness. Those eleven years of his would not have been good ones, with the ripples of Ikithon’s effect reverberating, but he still ached with that loss. That loss for Jester, who had so much good, so much passion, so much enthusiasm...five of her years were worth fifty of his.

They stood together in the doorway, living their individual losses, for just over three minutes. Caleb, eventually, shook himself. None of that matters, Ermendrud. She’s here because she knows you’ve experienced something similar. She needs a friend that shares this.

He cleared his throat, voice hoarse with disuse or emotion. “Please, Jester, come in. I have...ah...another story for you. Not a children’s tale this time, but I believe it still has a good ending.”

A faint knocking floated up from the floor below, followed by Fjord’s quiet call of “Jester.” Caleb raised his eyebrows at her, locking eyes with her for the first time since her arrival at his door. Meeting her, hollow stare to hollow stare. She shrugged, shook her head, and moved forward into Caleb’s room, taking her seat on the couch. It hadn’t been too many days since he’d read Der Katenprinz to her, but it seemed like eons now.

Jester looked up from the couch, patting the space next to her. “Fjord, you know… he just wouldn’t really understand. I don’t want to explain it to him. I know I don’t really understand either, and I’m really confused about what I saw today, and what’s going to happen now that I’m… like this.” She gestured to her changed face. “But I don’t think I can talk to him about it without it seeming...childish. You know?”

Caleb nodded, and sat down. They stared off in companionable silence for thirty seven seconds, until he began telling Jester his own story. She’s heard most of it before, but not in order and not all at once. He didn’t skip over anything, but he did spend the most time on his time in the sanatorium, and the time that immediately followed. To share with her how it felt for him, to let her know that feeling the loss of that time was normal. Halfway through his story, her hands started shaking. Steeling himself with a breath, he wrapped his long fingers over hers. She was very cold, he could share his warmth.

Jester looked at him, eyes wide, still innocent, but with an incredible intent on deciphering something. “The change is hard and it’s shocking, Jester, and I’m sorry you must deal with it. I know you must feel wrong, uncomfortable in your own skin and unsure about everything around you.” If he was not holding her hands, he would be scratching his arms.

She nodded, and cleared her throat. “That is...yes. That’s part of it, I think? I know it sounds weird, but I think I might be mourning? Like… all I can think about are all of the things that I could have done with that time. And if losing it will change me enough that no one will like me enough to keep me around anymore. What if the Nein and the Traveller get sick of the new, old me?”

Caleb squeezed her fingers. “These are fair concerns. But no, getting sick of you, at the very least, is impossible. I refuse to speak for the rest of the Nein or your god but I swear I could never get sick of you. And if I did speak for them, they would say the same. You’re the group’s smile, Jester, but you’re also its heart. Its soul. You’re an incredibly powerful woman who can play tricks on and kick the asses of incredibly powerful creatures. I would fo-- hmmm.”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“Ah, well… I would follow you anywhere. I trust your judgement. You see the world and everyone in it in a unique light, and it is incredible to behold. I-- we are lucky to have you. It is difficult not to lo-- care for you, no matter who you grow into. And I will strive to ensure your days for the foreseeable future are filled with enough adventure and entertainment to make up for the lost ones. I can enlist the Chaos Crew to assist.” A wry grin appeared at the corner of his mouth, just for a second.

Jester looked down at her hands, completely enveloped by Caleb’s. They’re no longer shaking.

“And that is the short-term. I swear on my spellbook and on your holy symbol that I will do everything in my power to get the time back for you, to restore the years you’ve lost. I have already begun the research.” Caleb gestured back to the stack of pages and books spilling across the desk.

The ghost of a furrowed brow passed across Jester’s face, then something that resembled a smile. “Caleb, as your first act of helping me... will you please make your room look like Hupperdook, like you did while we were eating the other day?”

Three seconds passed as Caleb swallowed the request, then nodded. “Uhhh… ja, of course.” He used major illusion to again replicate Hupperdook’s tavern as closely as possible—with the exception of the fireworks. Some sparks were of pink dicks and green cloaks, some were red books and orange cats. There were some multicolored cats wearing cloaks, or playing with dicks. And there was a single book with a small dick in the corner of the page. The page for the spell “Friends.”

Jester’s eyes lit up the tiniest bit watching the animated illusion, and Caleb couldn’t help but admire how the illusory fireworks sparked and crackled in her eyes. A sudden courage gripped him as he pulled Jester to her feet. “As my second act of assistance, Jester… I would like us to revisit the waltz. So you can enjoy a dance with an individual who does not have two left feet, and who is not more booze than man, and know that you are still just as capable and as erapturing as you were those many months ago.”

A giggle escaped from Jester’s lips, and he could see her again, putting together the pieces and cautiously probing the new shape of the world. Caleb inclined his head to his dance partner, and she pulled his arms into the dance’s starting position. Caleb, with a nod to the tower surrounding them, started the music as the steps began. They danced in companionable silence for precisely eight minutes and twelve seconds, gazing contentedly at the illusion around them and at their dance partner before them. Caleb tried to avoid looking at Jester too closely, but he couldn’t help but notice a darker purple flush high on her cheeks. A trick, perhaps, or a product of the surrounding illusion.

On that thirteenth second of the ninth minute, Jester shifted her hand from cupping his shoulder to looping around his neck, and removed her hand from his, only to wrap it around his waist. Her head now rested plainly on his chest, directly over his fast-beating heart.

“You know, Caleb, you’re pretty okay for being a stinky wizard.”

Caleb froze, but only for a second. His arms moved to hold her in a light embrace, their bodies fitting together like a slightly-fractured puzzle. The dancers just started to sway in place. “Ah, I would like to think so. Okay is good. You know, you will be alright Blueberry.”

With her head to his chest, Caleb could make out her quiet words, and the true smile on her face: “It will take time, I think. And help. But I hope so.” She paused for a moment. “And Cayleb? This is a good ending to your story.”

#widojest #no hate just love right now #congrats to the happy couple and the smitten husband and wife #because i am here for it #i just have some feelings

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daisy--sorbet · 4 years ago

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heyyy, hope you’re having a good night!! if you have the energy and feel okay answering, what’s up w taz graduation? i haven’t checked it out yet but i was thinking ab it. just asking bc you’re the first person i saw talk ab the show having serious issues, but also feel free to not answer this!! hope you have a good week!

i took a nice hot bath, had a strawberry kiwi capri-sun, and did a nice face mask and i’m feeling pretty good - so, y’know what anon? let’s talk about it.

for anyone who likes taz grad who sees this post: it’ll be tagged with “taz grad hate” (although i feel hate is definitely a very strong word - it’s for the simplicity of tagging it) - so please block the tag if you don’t want to see this post (especially because i put a readmore on a post before and it didn’t show up on mobile and instead gave the full post). mobile tumblr has a tag blocking system, so please feel free to use it! i don’t mind haha

anyway, so this is... probably going to be a lost post, and i wanna go ahead and preface it: this absolutely isn’t any hate on the mcelroys themselves. i love the brothers and their dad a lot, and while i doubt any of them would ever see this (or have it sent to them, or shown to them, because im pretty sure they try to distance themselves from this sort of thing), i just want to make it clear that criticizing a product is different than bashing a person. which brings me to the point of if i do end up sounding as if im bashing someone - please call me out on it! it’s not my intention to target anyone.

with that said, let’s talk about this campaign.

so my problems are as thus: the railroading, the shipping (a fandom problem, but it’s present in the podcast), the NPCs, and some misc problems others have addressed better than i have.

which. i know. that’s basically the entire podcast. (i promise i’ll bring up some positive points to balance it all out). keep in mind i’ve only personally listened to... what, six episodes? and it was enough for me to drop it. some people dropped it first ep, some dropped it ep four, and others are still forcing themselves to listen.

the railroading

there was a time i could handle travis and his railroading [making sure the story goes exactly the way he has planned], because it was the very beginning of the podcast and that’s what you can kind of expect from a plot-heavy podcast. hell, i wouldn’t mind it if the interactions and goofs weren’t a huge part of why i listen to TAZ in particular (which, by the way, is why amnesty still stuck out to me - even if there was a direction griffin wanted to push them towards, the interactions between the players (or players and npcs) made up for any railroading). it’s kind of hard to not railroad a little when it’s story-heavy and you’re trying to built up a world that you’ve put a lot of thought into. however, a huge part of d&d is the spontaneity.

it’s kind of why i think balance was so popular. while there was railroading towards the end, there was the presence of improv that made it all good. most mcelroy content is enjoyed because of the goofs. the magic brian moment is memorable. the jenkin’s fight still stands out because it was funny (albeit a result of some bad rolls). the boys teasing angus sticks out because the four would play well off of each other. even without that - griffin had talked about how he had to roll with things (the fact he had planned for a fight atop the train, but ditched the idea for what his family members came up with instead). even in amnesty, a couple moments that stick out to me still are ned with the jetpack taking out a pizza hut sign, and the scene with the water where jake was trapped inside. they aren’t as fun, but they still stand out as “things i didnt expect to really end the way they did.”

with grad, it’s just. one after another. the thundermen want to subpoena a xorn? cool, let’s run with that until actually the xorn gets fed rocks and goes home and who cares about the subpoena now. fitzroy wants to keep his cloak? lets talk about it for a while and you also get no rolls to even try to keep it. fitzroy goes to meet higglemas in his office? oh, why are you here fitzroy? im going to keep asking you until you answer fitzroy? you arent getting out of this scene until you answer me, fitzroy, so just tell me why you’re here already, alright, fitzroy?

and even later in a episode i read a transcript of: hey argo, remember how you have this whole secret motivation? fuck you, im gonna talk about it here in your dream and reveal it to listeners and remove any tension you had building up, and you dont get a choice to talk about it because this all-knowing villain knows all about it :)

and even NOW in the latest episode, there’s a comment that “we should cap argo’s skills here” instead of just... making the checks higher. rogues are good at certain things and usually arent the best in battles. better hope argo never makes it to level 11, because who knows how people are gonna handle the fact that he gets a skill that’ll make it so certain skills can’t have a roll below 10 (reliable talent).

(griffin, thankfully, calls travis out for that, but still - travis, why would you even imply that, considering you should be aware of how rogues work considering magnus multiclassed into rogue and you played one on tiny heist?)

and in the newest episode, their Big Bad chaos (which, god, i personally hate that name) straight-out says “dont do this” to the thundermen. travis tries to say, on twitter, “a character saying “dont do this” is different than me saying it” but i need to point out that it’s one thing if you’ve said “no” in character but worked with the PCs doing otherwise, but the railroading says differently.

the shipping

ill try to make this quick, because it’s nothing to do with the fandom (ship however you want, man) - but i really feel the need to draw attention to this.

fitzroy, as confirmed by griffin in a ttazz episode, is asexual. not aroace, but ace nonetheless. and i find it... troublesome that the idea of rainer and fitzroy having a relationship is still pushed nonetheless, despite the fact that fitzroy (to my knowledge) was never once shown to reciprocate any feelings. not to be that person, but i really hope that grad doesnt have any sort of romantic relationships in it (at least - not between NPCs and PCs unless they’re actually like... warranted?).

i dont know, man. one of my closest friends is ace, and i know she wants a relationship, but i think it would reassure her a lot to see an ace character who isn’t pushed into one in case she ever changes her mind. someone once mentioned that they hope fi/tz/ra/in doesnt happen because theres relationships that have that “oh, you can just date” and it goes upwards there to “oh, you can have sex just to please them <3″ (which, to be honest, is kind of a gross mindset - if someone isnt interested, they arent interested).

also, uh, the TTAZZ where griffin states this, there’s kind of the mention tht the whole sexuality question was posed in relation to the episode “creative thinking” (the dream one i mentioned earlier) - which. uh. i don’t know if anyone caught this, but... rainer straight-up wrote fitzroy a letter in the dream like “are you going to accept my proposal? a girl doesn’t like to be left waiting” which. leaves me with some gross feelings because uh.

if... if the whole thing about fitzroys sexual orientation was addressed here, then why would you push your ship anyway? feels kinda iffy, man.

to which i want to say: fitzroy can date. he’s allowed to date. griffins allowed to do whatever he wants with his character. but when a lot of the flirting is met with nothing, i’m not gonna see the chemistry there. just because travis ships it doesn’t mean it’s canon.

the npcs

ah yes. lets talk about the npcs.

there’s... a lot. a lot a lot. i think travis trimmed down how many were present in a scene, but uh. there’s still a lot. and... uh... i kinda wish there wasn’t?

look, i know im going back to balance/amnesty, but just. hang in there for a moment. chill with me. vibe.

balance didnt have too many NPCs present at all times in each mini-arc. gerblins had some big names like barry, klarg, gundren, killian, yeemick, and magic brian. rockport limited had angus, jess, graham the juicy wizard jenkins, and all of the tom bodetts mentioned.

amnestys first arc had mama, barclay, jake, dani, pigeon, kirby, minerva, and that was about it for like. big names? and not all of them were present in each scene.

in the first episode of grad alone: gary, hernandez, jimson, rolandus, zana, rhodes, buckminster eden, rainer, leon, tomas, hieronymous, higglemas, stuart, jackle, bartholomeus, mulligan, groundsy, germaine/victoria/rattles (the skeleton crew). and those are the ones i wrote down (minus groundsy, who i just. ignores. idk him).

like holy shit, my english prof got onto me for having too many characters in my first chapter and i didnt even have half the amount listed there!

it’s just a huge cast. does this take place in a school? yes! theres bound to be a lot of students present - but you don’t have to name every single one of them, at least not in the first episode!

the miscellaneous

i don’t know if travis ever actually addressed it, but wheelchair users have actually like... said that rainer’s introduction bothered them, because she was like “please ask me abt my wheelchair :)” when travis saying she was in an ornate chair would have sufficed.

uh. the colonization vibes people have discussed within the centaur arc. mentioned here, the replies here, and this post (and its replies) here as well.

the overall lack of d&d when the campaign was kind of advertised as a return to d&d if i remember correctly

also no one seems to be taking literally any criticism at all which like. ignoring the petty shit, sure, but people have stopped donating to taz and their listener-ship must have dropped some during this entire time - you’d think that maybe someone could say “we need to find out why people dont like the thing and fix the thing” consider this is. yknow. their livelihood.

anyway uhhh

tl;dr: travis railroads way too much (even now), the shipping in-game has become pushy and gross (especially bc its shoving a relationship onto an asexual character), theres too many npcs that dont stand out well enough, and no ones taking any criticism about the major issues with grad.

#taz grad hate #taz graduation hate #Anonymous #ok im gonna go to sleep now goodnight #maybe ill wake up to hate tbh that'll be wild

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ladyseaheart1668 · 6 years ago

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 28)

Description: Lila seeks shelter with the Catalysts. Estela and Aleister confront their father. Meanwhile, Tahira gets an unexpected visitor.

Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @princesstopgun @mysteli @endlesshero1122

Notes: I already announced this on AO3, but I tend to forget to make these announcements on Tumblr, too. I will be writing a Book 5. There is just too much story left for me to sum it up in Book 4. There’s still a good bit left of Book 4, though.

Chapter 28: Mimicry

Tahira

Why, oh why did I agree to do this press conference so early in the morning? I barely slept last night, and a cup of extra strong coffee isn't really cutting through the haze. But I've got Grayson on one side of me and Meiko Katsaros on the other, offering support. One of these two people knows who I am under the mask and supersuit I'm wearing. Both are necessary allies at this conference. I clear my throat, shifting slightly at the podium.

“I know the first question on everyone's minds has to be regarding my whereabouts for the last ten weeks. To be honest, the exact location is still something of a mystery. It appears that the experimental reactivation of the Prism Gate within the Prescott Industries lab is what allowed me to return with Silas Prescott, and several of the scientists who were involved in the project are working with me to get some answers, but as of right now, I don't have anything more to say on that matter. As to whether or not Silas Prescott may still present a threat, I can assure you that DA Katsaros and the Northbridge Police Department are keeping him under surveillance while he recovers. And once he does, it will be up to the justice system to decide what will become of him then. I will be advising them as far as I am allowed, advocating for a course of action that keeps the public safe. And I will now open the floor to questions...”

Michelle

Tahira's press conference flickers on the television set mounted near the ceiling in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. It's on the edge of my vision, but I only let it hold my attention for an instant before my eyes drop back to Lila, sitting across from me with her knees drawn to her chest. Her coffee is going cold on the table in front of her. She is still wearing scrubs, and the nametag of a nurse I actually know fairly well. If I hadn’t been told by the Endless that Lila was alive, I would have taken this woman across from me for one of nature’s doppelgangers. A trick of genetics and chance that happened to create a person nearly identical to Lila in appearance. This woman acts nothing like the Lila I knew on the island. That Lila was as irritatingly bubbly as she was ruthless, and neither side of her personality was a lie. That image of her doesn’t quite gel with the woman sitting across from me now, showing a dozen red flags.

“Lila, why don’t you take that nametag off?” I coax gently.

“I’m not Lila anymore,” she mutters. But she complies, removing the badge and placing it facedown on the table in front of her.

“Is there another name you go by now?”

“…Most of the time. But…” She trails off and stays silent, giving no indication that she intends to continue that thought.

“…Do you want to tell me what it is?”

She shakes her head. “No. Just call me Lila.” She looks up at me. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“…Actually, I am.” It’s not really a lie. I wasn’t expecting to see her here. “At least a little.”

“I suppose with Alodia turning up again, it can’t be that big of a shock to find out that I’m alive, too.”

“Clearly you haven’t completely neglected to watch the news. But in point of fact, we learned that Mike was alive well before Alodia came back.”

“…Mike…which one was Mike?”

Oh, right. She was already dead by the time Mouse’s identity was revealed.

“Jake’s navy buddy. The one who was killed by his commander. Or…so he thought. Mike actually survived, and he became Mouse. We rescued him from Lundgren, but then he was killed helping us in the final battle. And then we got off the island and discovered him alive.”

“…Oh. Of course. I remember Commander Lundgren’s trial…”

“Now. Why don’t you tell me what you were doing in Silas Prescott’s hospital room?” Lila averts her eyes, hugging her knees more tightly to her chest. When she doesn't answer after a moment, I continue, lowering my voice. “I don't want to get you in trouble, Lila. If you can convince me that you don't mean him any harm, I am entirely willing to overlook the fact that you're illegally impersonating a nurse.”

Lila looks up sharply, fear and hurt in her eyes. “I wasn't going to hurt him...” she whispers faintly. “I...was just a messenger...”

I hold her gaze, and will her not to look away. “...Who's message were you delivering?” I ask like a mother who already knows the answer. I fear that I do.

Tears are pooling in Lila's eyes now. Her lips start to quiver as her face reddens. I'm not entirely expecting what she says next...although perhaps I should have been.

“...Help me, Michelle. Please...I think he's going to make me hurt someone.”

I take a moment to collect myself, the way I do when a patient starts coding. “...By 'he', I assume you mean...?”

She nods. “...Mr. Rourke,” she whispers.

“Rourke is in prison, Lila. He's in prison for life. He can't make you hurt anyone.”

“Yes, he can!” she growls under her breath. “You know he can! You know he has that power!”

“You resisted him once before,” I remind her. “When he wanted you to hurt us. You fought back. Protected us.”

She is quiet for a moment, apparently considering this. Then she sighs, shaking her head.

“I think I was stronger then.”

I frown, lowering my voice. At this hour, the cafeteria is pretty quiet, but I'm not taking chances here. “Lila, how long have you been...alive?”

“...I...think it's been about five years...”

“And...how long have you been in contact with Rourke?”

“...About since he went to prison. A few months after.”

“What?! Oh, Lila...!” I'm caught between frustration and pity. I know from Alodia that Lila didn't have any family on the outside. She dedicated her life to Rourke because she believed he could erase her troubled childhood. “Why didn't you seek one of us out? You must have realized we all made it off the island, and you were our friend at the end. We could have helped you.”

She shrugs miserably. “...Maybe I wanted you to remember me as I was.”

“...But you went back to Rourke?”

“I don't know, Michelle. I felt sorry for him. I wasn't intending to show him anything except sympathy...”

“Except that Rourke is a master manipulator. He's a psychologically abusive asshole, and losing everything hasn't changed that.”

Lila shakes her head hard. Then, quick as a striking snake, she reaches out to grasp my wrist. “It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how it happened. You have to help me now. He knows Alodia is alive. He knows she's pregnant. And he's planning something.”

Alodia

I'm dreaming. I know I am. I'm clinging to the mast of The Dorado while Cetus' storm has the sea roiling and crashing against the hull. I've lived through this moment. And now I'm living it again. And I know what happens this time.

I won't...I won't watch him die...

Craig is going to die this time. The dream me, the one who doesn't know what's going to happen, doesn't understand why she's suddenly looking around for Craig. Why she's suddenly so sure he's in trouble. But it won't be until Cetus' tail comes down and splits the deck in half that he'll be lost.

Wake up! Wake up! There is no point in reliving this!

Isn't there...? Isn't knowledge your greatest weapon? To protect them? To protect yourself? To protect your child?

...But what can I learn from this? What can I learn from watching this again?

What makes you think I can tell you? I'm only your subconscious. Or perhaps I am the Endless. Or even your father.

Cetus' tail lands the blow that shatters the deck and throws me into the sea. I can feel the electrical current that rushes through his body as if through my own. It leaves me stunned, too stunned to think of swimming. It's Craig who first finds me in the water, holding my head above the surface, while he is battered by the raging waves...

No! No, I won't! Let me go!

I'm not holding you captive, Alodia. Go back to your husband...

… I come awake with a soft gasp. The child in my womb stirs in response, as does their father beside me. His hand gropes for mine.

“You okay, 'Lodia...?” he mumbles, his voice languid with sleep.

I blink, getting my bearings. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 2:41am. “I'm fine. River just decided that this was the perfect time to practice kickboxing.”

Jake shifts onto his side, stroking my belly with his free hand. “Go back to sleep, kiddo. Your mama needs her rest.”

“So does your papa,” I remark. “You'll be waking both of us up at all hours with crying soon enough. He should sleep while he can. Unfortunately, he's kind of a worrywart, and he wakes up whenever I do.”

“Someday, kiddo, you'll hear a story that explains exactly why that is.”

“...But not for a very long time, I hope.”

“Well, I'm not suggesting it would ever be a bedtime story. I'm guessing our kid will have the sex talk years before they have the 'Mama's half-alien' talk. Hell, I'd suggest we give 'em the 'Papa spent three years on the run from the military' talk before we try to explain everything that happened on that island and why they have so many aunties and uncles who aren't related to us.”

“...But you think we should tell them eventually?”

“I think it's not unlikely they'll need to know. And I want them to know some day that their mama saved the world.”

I snort a little. “Well...there's time enough to figure out when and how we'd explain everything. Nearly 3am isn't exactly the time to be making decisions like that.”

“Fair enough.” Jake draws me gently into his arms. “Let's get some sleep instead.”

I close my eyes and nestle my head on his chest. My head rises and falls as he lets out a contented sigh and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I tighten my grip, trying to ignore the growing dread behind my heart. In the back of my mind, I can hear it calling me, the image of the chained woman hidden in the poolhouse, carved from the amber of Elyys'tel.

Sean

“We need to warn Alodia and Jake,” I insist.

“Warn them of what?” Michelle snaps, exasperated. “That a man who is currently languishing in a criminal asylum on the opposite side of the country thinks he might be able to use her or her baby to activate a doomsday machine?”

“You make him sound so harmless,” I snap back. “You know he isn't. He's a dangerous egomaniac with an indomitable will who actually built a functional doomsday machine that he could have used her in...”

Michelle sighs, rubbing her hands over her face. “You're right,” she concedes. “He's not harmless. But right now, he's contained. The Omega Mech doesn't exist anymore. Neither does the Island's Heart. I don't doubt he has the will, but right now, he's severely lacking in resources. There's no good reason to stress them out right now. Especially while Alodia's pregnant.”

“Michelle,” Quinn says gently, “think about that for more than a moment, you'll realize keeping it from them is a really bad idea. If you thought a patient of yours might have cancer, you wouldn't hide it from them just because you also thought it was a long shot and you didn't want to stress them out.”

Michelle looks down at her hands, gripping fistfuls of her scrub pants in her lap. I reach over to cover her hand with mine, stroking her knuckles with my thumb.

“...Alodia and Jake aren't patients,” she says flatly.

“No,” I agree. “They're our friends.”

“...And they won't thank us if we hide this from them,” Quinn adds. “They have a right to know.”

Michelle closes her eyes with a sigh. Finally, she nods. “Okay. You're right. We'll call a Catalyst meeting. But...I think first, we should decide what to do with Lila.”

I glance over at Lila, curled up on the armchair in the corner of Michelle and Quinn's apartment, gazing back at us with dull, exhausted eyes. It doesn't feel quite right, discussing her as if she isn't in the room, but I honestly don't know if she'd talk back if we did try to bring her into the conversation.

“I don't think we should keep her here,” I murmur. “For a few reasons. One of which is named Montoya.” I don't mention a first name on purpose. I don't think Lila has been made aware that Olivia is alive, and I don't want her to find out like this.

“That is a good point. The closer to us Lila stays, the more likely it is she's going to encounter her. And...that could get messy. Frankly, I don't think either of them need that right now.”

“But where else could she go that would be safe?” Quinn asks worriedly. “Ultimately, isn't Lila safest with the Catalysts? What if Aleister and Grace were to look after her?”

“And what if Rourke has some way of tracking her?” I ask. “If he gets his claws in her again, she'll then have access to basically all the resources of Rourke International.”

“I'd suggest sending her to be looked after on the west coast,” Quinn sighs, “but if she is being tracked...that would be even more dangerous, since she'd basically have total access to Alodia and the baby.”

“And that is not an option,” Michelle declares fiercely. Her mouth twists a little. “I...suppose we could take her to a women's shelter...”

I feel something cold grip my gut. My grasp on Michelle's hand tightens involuntarily. She frowns, her free hand coming up to cup my cheek, and gently turn my face toward her.

“...Sweetie, are you okay?”

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my mouth. “Y-yeah. But...I don't know if a women's shelter is going to be the best place for her...”

“Why not? They're better equipped to counsel and protect abused women than any pocket of Catalysts on our own would be.”

“None of them know Rourke, though. And...” I trail off, hesitating for a moment. While I feel plenty safe revealing details of my troubled childhood to Michelle and Quinn and indeed any of the Catalysts, having Lila in the room makes it more difficult. But I draw in a breath, and lower my voice. “When I was about twelve, Dad went through a particularly bad phase. Like...bad even for him. Momma actually feared for our lives. It was the one time she tried to get away. Packed me up and drove to a women's shelter while he was out of the house. It wasn't like it was a bad place, but it also wasn't the most secure, and...”

“...He found you,” Michelle finishes grimly. I nod.

“Didn't do any physical or property damage, just came in and yelled a lot, scared the crap out of all the residents and their kids. ...My dad was unhinged and brain damaged. Rourke...isn't. Well, unhinged, maybe, but he's sharp. He's deadly smart.”

“...And in prison,” Michelle reminds me.

I shake my head. “No prison is escape-proof. You know that. We were warned. You heard it from her own lips.”

“Guys?” Quinn pipes up. “...I think I may have a solution.”

Raj

“Absolutely. Don't even worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Sean asks. “Are Craig and Zahra gonna be okay with it?”

“I'm not going to be here much longer. I have to be in Rome in a few days. It will be nice to have company. If you're okay with putting her up another day or two, then I can take over after that no problem.”

“Wow, buddy, that would be amazing of you. It's just that it doesn't feel like she'd be safe leaving her at a women's shelter, but we don't want to keep her in the same city as the Montoyas longer than we have to--”

“Hey, man, you don't need to explain. Lila's our friend, even if there is still some leftover awkwardness. I want to help her.” I hesitate a moment. “But...regarding what she told you...about Rourke's plans. ...How much danger do you think there actually is?”

“That's kinda hard to predict. Michelle managed to get it out of Lila that he's been contacting her via a cellphone disguised as a hairbrush. We blocked his number, and we can probably get that brush confiscated from him. But...I don't know. I don't think I can ever be completely confident that Rourke isn't a threat anymore. Not since Alodia came back.”

I sigh. “...Yeah...I get that. God, it's so crappy that she still has to worry about him at a time like this.”

“It's crappy that she has to worry about him at all. I feel shitty saying this, but I wish he would just die already. He's not doing anyone any good hanging around, why can't he just give up the damn ghost and leave us all alone?”

I sigh. “Honestly, man...I bet even Aleister would agree with you there.”

Aleister

“This feels like a foolish idea.”

From the driver's seat, Estela glances at me just briefly before turning her attention back on the road.

“I need to know what he knows. I need to know what he's planning.”

“He's not going to give himself away. You know that.”

I watch her grip tighten on the steering wheel, watch her masseter bludge against the skin of her jaw as her molars grind into each other.

“I have to look him in the eye.”

“...I worry that we'll give away more secrets than we gain from him,” I sigh.

“How long have you known me that you think I can't keep secrets?” she asks peevishly. “Do you think I could have been a San Trobidian revolutionary if I were that prone to cracking under pressure?”

I can't hold back a wry smile. “Dear sister, when it comes to secrets, you are a locked safe. You will not yeild but for the right combination. But let us be realistic, you are not subtle. Everyone knows a locked safe conceals valuables, even if they can't access them.”

Perhaps in spite of herself, she snorts, and I see a smile playing around her mouth. “And what does that make you, brother? Are you a locked safe concealed behind a hidden panel?”

“Absolutely not. I was a complete disappointment to the man, remember? At best, I am a Batesian mimic.”

“...A what?”

“A harmless prey species that evolves to resemble one that is harmful to its predator. Such as the viceroy butterfly whose colors mimic those of the toxic monarch butterfly. ...Or, perhaps to use a more apt example, the harmless king snake, whose coloring resembles that of the venomous coral snake.”

“...Of course. Much more fitting to compare our dear...sperm donor to a venomous snake than a butterfly.” She is quiet for another moment. “...I want to make sure we get ahold of that hairbrush-phone. I don't fully trust the guards at that place. I'm sure they're doing their best, but...”

“But Father is a dangerous megalomaniac, a master manipulator, et cetera.”

“Precisely.”

I sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat and letting my head drop against the headrest. “Well...I'm still worried about this whole idea. But I suppose we can't just let it lie when Lila was sent to deliver a note to Silas Prescott. ...That suggests he isn't resting on his laurels.”

“Or the memories of his laurels. Clearly he wants to taste glory again, and the means may exist to him now.”

I feel my fingers curl tightly against my palms. “We won't let him get to her.”

* * *

As usual, Estela and I are searched at the door for any dangerous items that we may otherwise smuggle into our detained father before we are finally led to the visitation room. We are made to sit in chairs spaced a safe distance apart so that we could not touch each other, and guards remain beside us, watching for any suspicious movement. Twenty minutes later, our father is led into the room. We are each permitted one embrace at the beginning of our visit, and one at the end. To keep up appearances, we each stand in turn, gingerly taking his hands while he stiffly kisses our cheeks. I'm sure the guards never miss the way we flinch at his touch, but if they have opinions on it, they have never shared them with me.

It would be impossible to miss the rather large bandage wrapped around his right hand, even if he didn't physically touch me. I let my eyes linger on it as he seats himself across from us, folding his hands delicately in his lap.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he remarks, his voice honeyed and cloying. “It has been quite some time since my children visited me.”

“Perhaps now you have some idea of what it was like to have you for a father,” I snap back. “...What happened to your hand?”

“Ahh, this? A little...incident in art therapy. One of the new inmates doesn't seem to be very fond of me because he stabbed my hand with a pencil when I reached across the table for the glue. He wasn't supposed to have a pencil. Heaven knows how he got ahold of one.” He smiles placidly, pointing to a spot on the palm of his hand. “Right about there. Most of the graphite was removed, but it does seem that some has been left behind. I am likely to have a small gray tattoo for the rest of my life.”

“Fascinating,” Estela deadpans. “Have they taken away your hairbrush yet?”

Father rolls his eyes. “Yes, my dear. Since you managed to find out about that, all my personal effects have been confiscated. I may only use what toiletries they provide me with now.”

“You should have realized it would only be a matter of time before we figured out it had gone missing. And considering it has a tracking device...”

It does not actually have a tracking device. And the project is so old that no one at Rourke International has paid attention to it in at least fifteen years. And of course, Father knows that. I am sure he has guessed by now how we knew of the hairbrush-phone. But I take a chance on the belief that he does not wish to get Lila into legal trouble for smuggling a phone into a prison.

“I will concede I did not expect it to last. But I was so unbearably bored.” He pauses, tipping his head slightly. “But enough about me. How are you, my dear children? How are all your friends?”

“They are fine,” Estela growls. “All very well. No thanks to you.”

He smiles, a knowing, unsettling smirk, and his eyes shift from Estela to me and back again. He pins his gaze on my sister. She sets her jaw, glaring back at him with the cold defiance of a warrior facing interrogation by a sadistic enemy. I shiver slightly, knowing that with her past it is all too likely she lived that exact scenario before. I realize that I've gone rigid in my seat. There is a contest of wills about to take place here. The fencer in me can practically see them taking up their guard positions, my father in posta di fenestra, my sister in posta di donna.

“I see that you found my...present.” He leans forward slightly. “...How is our dear Ms. Chandler?”

Estela's expression wavers just for an instant, and I suppress a grimace. This is what I was afraid of. He means to trick her into giving away something, just as she means to do to him. Honestly, I am not sure who will win here. I don't feel perfectly safe betting for or against either of them. A hydra against a dragon. One a megalomaniacal master of manipulation, the other a warrior with a will of iron.

“She is home,” Estela answers coldly. “With her family.”

“How lovely. A family. Mother, father...perhaps brothers and sisters, too. No...that's not right, is it.” He sighs mockingly. “Poor little orphan girl. Well...maybe not poor...”

Estela narrows her eyes. “And what do you know of it? You took her from her family for five years. We thought she was dead. We mourned her.”

“No, you didn't. You thought she was gone. You knew she wasn't dead.”

“We assumed you had killed her,” I counter.

“Kill a specimen as unique as she? Of course not!”

“You don't know the first thing about her!” Estela snarls.

“I know what she is.”

“You don't know her any more than you know your own children. Not even the one you crafted so carefully. When are you going to wake up and realize where you are, Rourke? You're rotting in a criminal asylum while the son you rejected is running your empire alongside the daughter you never knew you had! He has your throne, your kingdom...he even has a loving partner.” Estela's eyes narrow. “...You couldn't even keep my mother in love with you.”

I feel my eyes widen as Estela's blow visibly lands. Genuine hurt flashes across my father's face before anger rushes in to take its place.

“...Olivia came back to me,” he growls.

“To support me. Your daughter. ...She never even told you about me, did she. You didn't figure it out until after I was already there. Even after your wife was gone, my mother didn't want you in my life.”

I turn away, covering a smile with my hand. Estela may be hitting below the belt, but I can't help but enjoy it. I should not have underestimated her. Given the color of my father's face right now, she may actually be winning. But then he shakes his head, and a placid smile settles back onto his face. He turns his gaze onto me.

“...Aleister, my boy. ...How is my grandson?”

I stiffen, feeling the breath rush from my body. “He is...well.”

“It is quite a legacy he was born into. ...The heir to two international industrial empires. One of the few things you did right in your life, wedding and bedding Grace Hall. In the old days of kings and queens, treaties would be built on a union like yours.”

“I love her!”

“An added bonus for you, of course. You're like Victoria and Albert. But without the incest. Tell me, does the boy ever get to see his maternal grandmother?”

“That's hardly any business of yours, Father.”

“I think we've overstayed our welcome,” Estela says flatly. “I'm ready to go. How about you, Aleister?”

“...Yes. Yes, I quite agree.”

We go through the motions of a goodbye, and make sure we collect his hairbrush-phone from the warden. We're silent on the way to the car. It's not until we're on the road that Estela breaks the silence.

“So. What did we actually learn?”

I am quiet for a moment, considering. “...One thing is for certain, he doesn't think everything is lost.”

She nods. “You're right. We've seen him despairing. He still thinks he can succeed in his goal. Whatever that goal really is.”

I sigh, rubbing my chin absently. “...What if Lila wasn't his only contact on the outside?”

She frowns. “Who else do you think he could control like he controls her?”

“...I don't know. It's just...I have a very bad feeling that he still has more influence than we know.”

Tahira

Grayson never believed I was dead. He never let anyone at Prescott Industries believe I was, either. In the aftermath of the battle, he was vocal in his belief that I was among the missing, but I was surely alive. There were quite a few people unaccounted for, but all the bodies they found were identified fairly quickly, so it seemed plausible. Once he learned for sure that I was alive, the official story around Prescott Industries was that I had been severely injured, and I was taking an extended leave of absence to recover. He builds up my return for a few days, and I practice limping around Mom's apartment with the aid of a cane until I've perfected the just-barely-limping limp. When I get back to work, I'm greeted with warm welcomes, a few questions about how I'm feeling, but no one seems suspicious. Mostly, they're just relieved that I'm okay. Even Marjorie gives me an awkward hug and then pretends it never happened. And I pretend the gesture didn't make me teary-eyed.

I'm only back at work for a few days before Halloween weekend is upon us. I volunteered to help serve drinks at The Grand all weekend. Without any time to put a real costume together, I decide to go with the wench costume I wore to the Rennaissance Faire a couple years ago. It's about as authentic as such a costume can be. I tuck the linen shirt into the green brocade skirt, and pull on the brown overskirt. My mother is helping me lace up the corset when my phone buzzes with a text from Grayson, letting me know he's downstairs. Mom grins when she sees the text over my shoulder.

“You be careful with that boy, sweetie,” she teases. “It's always a risk to date your boss.”

I snort. “Come on, Mom. I've known Grayson since college. He was my friend before he was my boss.”

She kisses my cheek. “I trust you, baby. Have fun tonight. I know you're supposed to be working, but have fun, too.”

“I will. You gonna be okay alone for the evening?”

“Of course. I'll be passing out candy to all the tiny monsters in this building. And if one of them attacks me, my daughter's Dragonness, and I know how to reach her.” She hands me my backpack. “Supersuit's in here, keep your phone in there, too, and keep it near you all night. Understand?”

I grin. “Yes, Mom. Thank you.” I kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby girl.”

* * *

I have to laugh when I get downstairs and find Grayson standing outside the limo. He's dressed in an elegant pirate captain costume, complete with a velvet coat, tricorn hat, and a plastic cutlass. He grins when he sees me.

“Your mom told me what you were going as. I thought I'd make an effort to match.”

“Right. So, tonight I'm the plucky barmaid, and you're the handsome pirate who strolls into my seaside tavern looking for a tankard of ale.”

He laughs. “Roleplay. I like it. But alas, work awaits us. Shall we?”

He opens the door for me, and we slip into the car. As the partition rises between us and the driver, the limo glides away from the curb.

“Hey...how's your dad?”

His expression falls. “Mostly recovered. He'll be discharged soon. And then he goes under house arrest...”

I see his hand curl into a fist on his thigh. I reach over to cover his hand with mine.

“I'm sorry...I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“No, it's okay. You have a right to know.” He sighs. “Especially in light of everything Aleister and Estela told us about Rourke trying to contact him.”

I frown. “Has he...mentioned anything about that?”

“Nothing. And I can't get it out of him, either. I...honestly can't get very much out of him on any subject.”

“...I'm sorry, Grayson.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “It isn't your fault. I just...want to enjoy myself this evening, spending time with the woman I love, basking in one of my greatest achievements.”

“So far.”

“What?”

I smile, slipping my arm through his. “One of your greatest achievements so far. With many more to come, I'm sure.”

* * *

The Grand is already getting busy by the time we arrive. Costumed patrons form a less-than-orderly line outside the door, where Kenji checks ID's, dressed as Indiana Jones.

“Are you acting bouncer this evening?” I call as Grayson and I head toward the staff entrance. “I thought Craig Hsiao was going to lend a hand?”

“Yeah, but he's coming with Zahra, and they won't be here for a couple hours. You two go on in, though. I got this covered.”

“I'll come lend a hand as soon as Tahira's set up behind the bar,” Grayson promises.

True to his word, Grayson makes sure I'm settled behind the bar before stepping out to help Kenji check ID's. I tuck the backpack with my phone and supersuit under the bar and pull on an apron. I've got help this evening, thankfully. Skyler, the guy Poppy dated for all of five minutes, is serving with me tonight. There's also a muscular blonde woman who looks to be in her late forties named Jenny, dressed in skinny jeans and a black tank top that shows off the exquisite sleeve tattoos that cover her shapely arms. For the next few hours, I get swept up in my work, taking orders, serving drinks, collecting tips. Zahra's band arrives and starts setting up, which seems to take awhile. It's while this is going on that I notice the patron in the Guy Fawkes mask at the end of the bar. The mask seems to be a half-hearted attempt at coming in costume, since besides that, he's dressed in ripped jeans and a gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head. Something in his manner sets off alarm bells. I check that my bag is in my line of sight and sidle down the bar toward him.

“Can I get you something, Fawkes?” I ask. “You got a week before you're supposed to blow up Parliment, want a drink in the meantime?”

“I'm also on the wrong continent,” Fawkes replies. “I'll take a beer, though. Whatever's on tap.”

His voice sets off a shiver of recognition, but I can't quite place it yet. I list his options, and he makes his choice. I fill a frosted mug and set it in front of him.

“That's six dollars.” He pulls a small wad of cash from the pocket of his hoodie and peels off a five and three ones.

“Keep the change for yourself, hero.” He wraps his fingers around the handle of the mug and pulls it toward him. “For the record, I wouldn't need gunpowder to take down a government.”

Even before he lifts his mask to take a gulp of his beer, I realize who I'm talking to. I lower my voice to a whisper.

“Caleb?! What the hell are you doing here?! I thought you'd left the city?”

“I did. And I'm not back in town for long. I'm just here to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?”

The guitarist on stage strums a loud chord that blasts out from the speakers and reverberates through the club, making me jump. Caleb glances at the stage, then jerks his head toward the door.

“Sounds like they're about to start, and I don't want to shout. You got a minute?”

I hesitate just a moment before grabbing my backpack and slipping out from behind the bar. Caleb gulps the rest of his beer and pulls down his mask, sliding off the stool. Outside, in the shadow of an alley beside the club, he lifts it up again. I look sidelong at him.

“You know, I'm not sure whether I should be surprised at your attire or not. On the one hand, a Guy Fawkes mask is...frankly predictable. On the other hand, that you would wear a costume on Halloween at all is honestly surprising.”

He scowls a little. “It's not a costume, it's just a mask. And I'm not really looking to be recognized.”

“So...what do I need to be warned about?”

“...Talos or Minuet mention to you where I've been since you vanished?”

“Vaguely. They said you were out in the sticks, running with some squatter gang.”

He snorts. “They're more than that. Started out as a bunch of strays and runaways, sure. Then Gigi got ahold of them.”

“And who's Gigi?”

“That's the question for the ages. What I know is she's a sadistic psychobitch who knows how to keep her gang scared and loyal. Some people got the natural talent for that. I didn't question it until I realized that something about her reminded me of Stonewall.”

“...Is she a superhuman, too?”

“Not as far as I know. She might be, though. She's never been exposed to the crystal, that much I know for sure, because she's said as much. What I was realizing lately is that she moves and thinks and acts like someone who's got...training. Kinda training Stonewall had.”

I almost ask what he means, but then I go quiet as a memory creeps into my brain. The morning of the gala that changed my life forever, I came into work and spoke to Santiago about the recent string of burglaries. The thieves, he said, probably had military training.

“...Military?”

He nods. “She's been talking a lot about the Prism Crystal lately. She always knew I'd been exposed and I'd gotten power from it, but it's only in the last couple weeks that she's really been interested in asking questions and getting answers. ...She let slip that she'd seen something like the Prism Crystal before.”

My blood sizzles a warning that I can't place yet. “Yeah...? Where?”

“In the Caribbean, five or six years ago. ...Talked about a jewel there called the Island's Heart.”

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

Text

If Samson and Delilah Lived Happily Ever After (Sashea)- Melon

A/N:

To those of you who actually remember this fic: I’m so sorry. I know it’s been over four months. I know.

I’m a day later than I promised, but we always knew I was a liar. I also promised a weekly update schedule, too. I’m actually hoping to get back on that, or at least updating as much as I possibly can. I genuinely love this story, and I’m gonna get it done y'all, I swear.

This chapter (2k words) is about partially just Shea’s day, including a lot of character exploration for her, but not necessarily focused on the actual plot. It gives you a good sense of who Shea is in this world, but it’s not crucial to the story. The second half is the date! A lot of fluff, Sashea getting to know each other better, developing their dynamic, and just overall good gayness. I’m trying a new format for the poems, let me know what you think on my fic blog!

Part One Part Two Part Three Side Blog

Sasha and Shea swap schedules over the weekend, planning out the logistics in between banter. A movie takes too long, wouldn’t want to be late for the show; it’s too early for dinner and too late for lunch, and Shea doesn’t share Sasha’s belief that time is a social construct that should be ignored when at all possible; they’re broke as hell, so extravagant dates are a solid no. Sasha suggests meeting up at a fro-yo place in Bushwick and just walking around afterwards.

It’s a risk. Shea knows she wants Sasha, but she doesn’t really know her, not yet. A spark of chemistry across a room doesn’t secure a lifetime of happiness, or whatever, and it’s easy to forget how someone made her feel for a moment in the hours that followed it- plus there’s no time limit to an ‘eat and walk around’ date besides the show. The show they’re going to together.

They could run out of things to say.

Shea types out her agreement, they plan to meet three hours before the show. Being prepared for the worst has never hurt Shea in the past, but she can’t stand in her own way here.

———-

Saturday morning sees Shea up before dawn, dance bag in hand as she heads to the cheapest coffee shop within a ten mile radius. She’s exhausted, but she’s always exhausted, always moving, figuring out the bare minimum hours she has to work at her day job to pay rent and be able to buy a morning coffee when she desperately needs it.

She smiles at the barista despite her lack of sleep. Her mama raised her right.

The studio walls welcome her home when she arrives, unchanged since she last saw them two days ago. The sun is just coming above the city horizon, painting the room orange and shining in the wall of mirrors. Everything is either shadow or warmth, the safety of darkness succumbing to the small windows left of her without a fight. She rarely sees the dance hall in the daylight, usually arriving at closer to one AM for a late night practice. It’s pretty. It’s a little strange.

Facing the glass covered wall in front of her, Shea begins her stretches. Everything in the world around her slows with her body, moving like elastic bands, expanding as she pulls towards each limb’s end. She’s unaware of anything outside of her own vision, a movie that no one watched because the director chose to shoot in black-and-white despite making it in 2010.

This moment is what she lives for. It’s the power that comes only when she’s on, performing or practicing, facing down her own physical form or the limits of her creative mind. Shea is all powerful when she’s in artistic spaces, removed from the clatter of the world. She was born to be in a world of loud talking, messy bitches- but the calm of this moment is part of her, too.

The stretches morph into routines, mapping out ideas that push her body ever so slightly out of its comfort zone. She’s still connected to her physical form enough to know her limits. Somewhere in the distance, far away from her conscious, Shea’s phone is playing music and recording her spontaneous changes to the choreography.

It’s now that she thinks of Sasha, when she’s half in tune with her body and even less in tune with her mind.

Here, Shea is focusing on her heart.

The pragmatist still runs in the background, reminding her to keep an eye on the time, planning her outfit, telling her to wear sensible shoes even though pumps go better with those jeans, but it’s quieted.

The loudest voice says to remember the night she first saw Sasha. How Sasha looked at her the way so many had before her but better because Shea wanted to look at her back. How Shea doesn’t know her, but knows she wants to. How she ran the first night. And then, how she came back.

It helps that she’s a good kisser, too.

Her train of thought comes to a stop as the next song comes to an end, her time in the studio going with them. She’s almost surprised to see that the world continued on after she abandoned it, but the sun’s higher now, the streets below more crowded. Time to go home, get ready.

———-

Sasha finds Shea on a park bench outside Frosty’s five minutes before they’re supposed to meet up. She’s on her phone, scrolling through an endless stream of some social media that reflects in her sunglasses. God I hope it’s not Tumblr, Sasha thinks.

Shea glances up, smiling when she sees Sasha. “Hey, good looking,” she calls. “How’s it going?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Sasha asks in her low, joking tone, hair bouncing with the movement of her head. Shea stands, reaching Sasha in a few long strides. She pulls her close, placing an air kiss on either cheek, separating with a gentle squeeze of Sasha’s waist. It’s all too fluid, too casual, to be reserved just for Sasha- but God does she wish it was.

“Come on, let’s head in.”

Many describe a perfect a perfect pair as two who contrast each other in every way, sharing only core pieces. Yin and Yang. The two that argue constantly but have a deeper understanding.

Those people missed Sasha and Shea entering a tiny frozen yogurt store side by side. They don’t stand stronger in stark contrast to each other, but rather gravitate towards each other because of how much they look like they belong in the same world.

Shea finishes choosing her flavors and toppings in under two minutes. Sasha takes…longer. She wants to try a new flavor but doesn’t want to sample each one that looks interesting. Shea’s glancing at her in both annoyance and amusement, her own yogurt already paid for. Sasha’s walking in between stations, eyebrows furrowed in a way that is not entirely unadorable. Shea can’t help but smile to herself. They have enough time for Shea to humor Sasha’s five minute internal struggle over dessert.

After way too long of a decision making process, Sasha steps up to the cashier, smiling as she hands him four dollars. Shea notes this, checking off the “nice to service industry workers” box in her mental list. It’s a small thing, but it says a lot.

The pair make their way out. Neither remembers who holds the door for who, but someone does and it’s nice. Sasha curves towards Shea once on the sidewalk, legs crossing as she walks. She’s radiating the midday sunshine right back at Shea.

“So who’s on for tonight?” She asks. Shea has to think for a moment, even though she set up the schedule. She hosts every other week, Trinity taking the other half of the schedule when she’s in town, so it’s hard to keep up with who she planned last time she hosted and who she has tonight.

“Well, there’s Val, I think, if she shows up. Aja for sure, Nina, myself, and Trinity.” The cast is a genuinely good one, especially Aja, who usually reserves her poetry for her house meetings.

“Val was really interesting last time. I don’t fully remember what she said, but I remember being impressed by how she captivates a crowd,” Sasha pauses, thinking of how to word her observation of the poet, “The audience see as the embodiment of an idealistic worldview, which I actually agree with- she is. She’s beautiful, positive, and a natural entertainer,” she says, but it’s missing the end, like she’s holding back her full opinion because of Shea.

“But did you like her?”

“No,” Sasha laughingly admits. “I liked the whiny one way better,” she giggles, doing her best to mimic the high pitched, toddler-esque noises that often came out of Farrah’s mouth. Shea laughs with her failed attempts, and harder at her successes. Sasha gets eerily good at impersonating the tiny blonde.

“You,” Shea pauses to catch her breath, “You shady bitch, stop it or I’m gonna drop my ice-cream.” She’s not lying- said frozen yogurt had nearly fallen with Shea’s laughter shaken body multiple times. Being here with Sasha, giggling over the dumbest shit imaginable, felt right. She almost misses the hours passing.

The conversation takes them through the streets, stopping to step into an antique store here and there, but never finding something worth buying.

They never quite stop laughing.

Sasha and Shea start walking to the bar just before sunset, comfortable silence overcoming them as night took hold of the city. They no longer have to say anything to prove they were capable of talking to each other in the first place- they could if they wanted to, but for now they were both content with just walking next to each other.

They break apart at the entrance, Sasha joining her friends in the crowd, Shea disappearing behind the scenes to organize everyone. Sasha keeps the midday sunshine in her smile all the way to the table Pepper saved for herself, Aja, and Sasha.

Sasha settles next to her friend, ignoring the raised eyebrow presented to her in favor of stealing a sip Pep’s drink. She scrunches her nose at the unexpectedly boozy cocktail. “Peppermint it’s literally 6:00. This is a midnight drink,” Sasha says disparagingly.

“I am getting tired of you judging my life choices, Sasha,” Peppermint snatches the drink back, since it clearly won’t be appreciated by her friend. “You forget, I knew you in college.”

“Oh god, I wasn’t that bad,” Sasha smiles, thinking back on her and Pep’s first years of friendship. Okay, she wasn’t very good, either, if she’s honest, but she was hardly alone. Getting your Masters is hard, especially when your parents are such hyper-intellectual academics; the pressure was a lot. Young Sasha deserved to have a little fun.

“You kept up bitch, you kept up,”

“Shh, they’re getting started. You can remind me of all the mistakes I’ve made later,” Sasha casually leans against Peppermint as Shea opens the show. Shea magically located a pair of heels backstage, somehow. Sasha’s becoming more and more convinced of her initial Goddess theory.

“How you guys doing tonight?” Shea yells to the crowded room, easily heard over the remaining chatter. Her energy is a lot brighter now than the first show Sasha attended, exuberant instead of smooth and mischievous. She’s riling them up, pushing their energy to its peak, and they’re responding.

Sasha realizes Shea’s finished speaking while Sasha watched the crowd, stepping off the stage for the first performer. This time, Sasha’s eyes don’t follow her- she knows where Shea will be for the next few minutes, the way Shea will interact with the people backstage- she’s no less enraptured by Shea, but there’s already a comfortability there. She can enjoy the actual show, for once.

Her reaction to Shea coming onstage for her own piece doesn’t change, though. Shea still walks like that, like she meant to drive her heel through the wood instead of on top of it, still steals the air from everyone’s lungs when she speaks.

She skips an introduction, again, she usually does for her own pieces. She knows the audience remembers her name.

“Before I found me:

I have words to speak,

but will not.

Tucked into an alcove,

my tongue sewn safely into the lining of my cheek,

I am lost.

Teeth clamped tight around a final shred of dignity,

embalmed,

saved posthumously,

but the rotting has started to leak.

Bodies of text embossed,

growing moss in a grove

covers everything Brown.

Tongue-in-cheek

is not a subtle death,

but it is a silent one.

One nobody likes to confront

because loud women are just so

inconvenient.”

It’s longer than most- sadder. She carried the weight of it in her stomach, as though it will be safe there. Sasha hopes it will be, for Shea’s sake. Uncurling herself from the melancholy of her piece, Shea addresses the audience a final time, introducing the last act. Sasha desperately tries to listen to her, but she keeps getting caught up in her voice while missing her words.

Shea steps off the stage for the second to last time, taking the energy of the past few minutes with her. Sasha can only watch her go hopelessly.

Shea is, undeniably, turning into a problem for her. She’s pretty sure she’s okay with it.

#sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #fluff #lesbian au #melon #rpdr fanfiction #samson and delilah

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darcy137 · 7 years ago

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So my lovely @whalien27 tagged me in this a long long time ago but I was in the middle of getting a new laptop (’cause my old ones heroically broke down right after my finals and after almost 5 years of loyal service to someone who is like the female version of Namjoon when it comes to destruction power), moving between my school and Boston and my internship place, and of course the start of my internship. Thus I had no time, until now, to do this.

Rule: Finish these 92 questions and then I’m supposed to tag 20 people. However my loser self don’t even have that many people I can comfortably tag so I’m gonna leave it open - you can do it if you see this on your feed and feel like doing it.

THE LAST: 1. drink: water 2. phone call: mom - which is funny, since I don’t call home that often 3. text message: with my group of roommate complaining about some projects I’m doing 4. song you listened to: Tomorrow - BTS. This is my motivational, my go to when I need a pick-me-up song. 5. time you cried: A few weeks ago - I watched The Ark’s The Light MV for the first time :/ 6. dated someone twice: yeah 7. kissed someone and regretted it: when I was in middle school and played a game where the game master would say things like “three arms” and you are supposed to make exactly 3 arms touching each other (you can join with other people). The game master said “two lips” and everyone thought it was a kiss, and since it was a kiss it would be better to do it with someone from the same gender so this girl grabbed me and kissed me before I could even react. Turned out by “two lips” the game master meant to press your lips together (a kiss would have been “two pairs of lips). I didn’t like the fact that the kiss was forced and it was to win a game, not for any romantic purpose - and we didn’t even win in the end, and it was completely unnecessary. So yeah, that was the only time I kissed someone and regretted it. 8. been cheated on: no 9. lost someone special: yeah 10. been depressed: yeah 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: no. I don’t like drinking, nor do I have high alcohol tolerance so I usually quit after one or two sips, and even I wouldn’t get pissed drunk that quick

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: 12-14. blue, pastel pink, purple, silver

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. made new friends: yeah 16. fallen out of love: yeah 17. laughed until you cried: yeah

18. found out someone was talking about you: yeah, but in a positive way: my Korean tutor (in our school for languages we usually have this system were we pair up a native speaker with a learner, so my tutor was a fellow student) told me her friend, who was a TA for our Korean teacher, told her that I did my homework well

19. met someone who changed you: no, not during last year 20. found out who your friends are: yeah 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: no. I didn’t kiss anyone last year, period

GENERAL: 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: about more than half of them - the other half are people I works with on projects, so while I don’t really know them in real life I have talked to them in some way before or right after adding them 23. do you have any pets: no. I wish though - my dream is to have two dogs, one must be a German Shepherd, and may be a cat 24. do you want to change your name: no. I have grown to love my name over the years 25. what did you do for your last birthday: enjoyed school, hanged out a bit with my friend, applied like crazy for internship, had a minor quarter life crisis even though I wasn’t 25 yet 26. what time did you wake up: these days usually 6-7 am 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: trying to use internet. Ok so for my internship I was assigned a room in a student dorm nearby, which is super nice and convenient. However, since it’s a high school dorm, they cut off all internet connection at 1am exactly, so these days at 12am I would be crazily trying to savour the last hour of internet :))))) 28. name something you can’t wait for: going to LA after I’m done with internship 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: August 24th last year - that was the day I left Vietnam to return to school. 30. what is one thing you wish you could change in your life: nothing. I sometimes wishes things like to be born in another country (because I’m always curious about what it’s like to be citizen of another country), or to know certain people (like, imagine what it would be if you are best friend with BTS!!), but ultimately, everything - both good and bad - that I have experienced in my life makes me who I am today, and that’s why I don’t want to change a single thing 31. what are you listening to right now: nothing. I’ll probably play something from BTS after I’m done with this though 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: yes 33. something that is getting on your nerves: rude people 34. most visited website: tumblr, youtube, facebook, these days twitter as well since KCON is near 35-37. there was no question here so... 38. hair colour: very dark brown, like close to black brown, and the lower layer used to be dark bluish purple but it has faded a lot so it’s more purple mixed with light brown 39. long or short hair: long, like touching the middle of my back long. it’s the longest my hair has been in a while 40. do you have a crush on someone: normal people, not at the moment. celebrity, yes. 41. what do you like about yourself: my eyes and these days, my hair 42. piercings: ear piercings (the standard ones) 43. bloodtype: B, I’m about 60% sure it’s B positive but I don’t know 44. nickname: Darcy (yes it’s my English nick name - I don’t have it anywhere in any of my official paper), Huaiqiu, Gaeul, chubby cat, puppy, shrimp (apparently I sleep in curling position like a shrimp when it’s cooked so...), Mom, Aunt, Greatgrandma, Mama Bear 45. relationship status: single 46. zodiac: aquarius 47. pronous: she/her 48. favourite tv show: Criminal Minds 49. tattoos: none, though I sometimes flirt with the idea. If I ever do it, I would probably get a blue butterfly (something highkey reminding me of HYYH) or the sentence that I like the most from Tomorrow: Because the dawn before sun rises is the darkest). 50. right or left handed: right handed 51. surgery: does minor incision when they remove my wisdom teeth count? 52. piercing: wait does this question repeat? 53. sport: why do you think I was called “chubby cat”? Gym to me is like dance to Namjoon and Jin - something I can do if I need to, but probably not something I enjoy that much 55. vacation: I’m looking forward to my getaway to LA in August baby 56. pair of trainers: a blue runner pair

MORE GENERAL 57. eating: popcorn 58. drinking: water 59. i’m about to: read some fanfic 61. waiting for: the weekend 62. want: some motivation to study Korean, start learning case study and prepare my resume for consultant firms’ position 63. get married: I will think about it when my life and career are more stable 64. career: ideally HR, but I’m actually open to anything related to management, HR, development, customer services and even marketing

WHICH IS BETTER 65. hugs or kisses: kisses 66. lips or eyes: eyes 67. shorter or taller: for my partner, taller would be better but I don’t really care that much 68. older or younger: ideally older, but my ex was younger (though he’s probably as old as me, if not older mentally),so I don’t care that much I guess 70. nice arms or nice stomach: for others - I don’t really care. For myself, nice stomach - I’m a fatty especially around there :( 71. sensitive or loud: I’m more sensitive, and I would prefer people who are sensitive too unless you are Hobi then you are welcomed to be loud af my February Friend ~ 72. hook up or relationship: relationship, definitely 73. troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. kissed a stranger: yes. ^see my story above 75. drank hard liquor: I don’t think so?? I might have accidentally drank something when I was a kid but honestly I can’t remember 76. lost glasses/contact lenses: I don’t even wear glasses nor contact lenses (10/10 eyesight here) 77. turned someone down: yeah 78. sex on the first date: eh... I have never gotten pass first base with anyone so... 79. broken someone’s heart: ... unfortunately yes 80. had your heart broken: yeah... 81. been arrested: hell no 82. cried when someone died: yes 83. fallen for a friend: yes, and man I fell hard

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. yourself: not really... it has been a struggle for me, though I think I start to be able to do so a little bit these days 85. miracles: nah 86. love at first sight: definitely no. I believe in attraction at first sight - like, you can feel attracted to a person at first sight. However, to love someone means to learn about them, understand them and grow together in a positive way, so no way you can achieve that at first sight. I feel like people who claim they fall in love at first sight probably are attracted at first sight, and because they believe it is love they try their best in getting to know the other person and improve the relationship, which then turn it into real love.

87. santa claus: no. I even act as someone’s Santa Claus before so definitely no. 88. kiss on the first date: I don’t mind, but I also rather get to know the person well before kissing them 89. angels: no

OTHER:

90. eye colour: dark brown 91. favourite movie: I probably have a list, but the one I can remember right now are Conjuring 1 & 2, Insidious, Guardians of the Galaxy, Boss Baby, Pirates 1, 2 & 3, The King’s Speech

92.????? Is this question lost too??

#personal

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coupsyboopsy · 7 years ago

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92 Statements

Tagged by: @mans-ayyye

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 10 people.

THE LAST:

1. Drink: H2O 2. Phone call: My dad 3. Text message: "Love you too!” 4. Song you listened to: Surround Me—Leon 5. Time you cried: Like a minute ago because Tiff is so WONDERFUL

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: like... date someone, break up, date them again? I don’t think so 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: LMAO I LAUGHING AT TIFF’S REPEAT ON THIS ONE I SHOULDN’T BUT IT’S CUTE... Yes, this douche named Matt and I apparently can’t keep my mouth off his when we’re drunk 8. Been cheated on: Yes... 9. Lost someone special: Yeah... 10. Been depressed: Clinical diagnosis so... maybe, I think? 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: ONE TIME BECAUSE MAMA DON’T VOMIT BUT 3 BEERS, 4 OR 5 MIX DRINKS, AND LIKE 7 TEQUILA SHOTS WILL MAKE ANYONE VOMIT

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14: green, purple, teal

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: YES 16. Fallen out of love: Yes. 17. Laughed until you cried: OMG YES 18. Found out someone was talking about you: lmao yeah 19. Met someone who changed you: Yes, and it’s wonderful 20. Found out who your friends are: Heh... yeah 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: LMAO.... yes... I kiss people when I drink

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: most of them... some are online friends 23. Do you have any pets: I name all the stink bugs in my apartment and they’re my pets 24. Do you want to change your name: Princess Conseula Bananahammock. If you get the reference, you’re marrying me tonight. 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: I got two posters from bestie (Coupsy and Dokyeom) and went home and spent time with family, fought with my mom, partied with friends the next weekend 26. What time did you wake up: 7 am 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Finishing the last of Vampire Diaries and groaning at how fucking stupid the finale was. I wasted all this time on stupid show for some fluffy, boring ending. 28. Name something you can’t wait for: My death? Is that morbid? It’s not like a bad thing. I just want to sleep for a long time. 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Last week when she was being her normal terrible self. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: My inability to finish things I start 31. What are you listening right now: The AC and my coworker talking to me about his schedule for the afternoon. 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yes, I have. It was a whole family of Toms. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: My supervisor 34. Most visited Website: Tumblr

LOST QUESTIONS.

35. Mole/s: Yes. I have to keep an eye on them and new ones because skin cancer runs in my family. And then a shit ton of freckles 36. Mark/s: I fall more than I walk. I have scars all over. 37. Childhood dream: To sing, go to space, and to write 38. Hair Colour: Various shades of brown 39. Long or short hair: Short hair. About at my shoulders. I need to get it cut 40. Do you have a crush on someone: I...yes :D 41. What do you like about yourself: I’m always try to find the good in everyone 42. Piercings: Just my ears 43. Bloodtype: A+ HEY TIFF YOU CAN DONATE YOUR BLOOD TO DOKYEOM IF HE EVER NEEDS IT :D 44. Nickname: Radish. 45. Relationship status: Facebook says I’m married 46. Zodiac: Pisces 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: Parks and Recreation, Dance Academy, TWD, iZombie 49. Tattoos: Two—left wrist says “Lumos” and the right wrist says “Nox.” I’m getting another one soon 50. Right or left hand: Right handed 51. Surgery: I had my ears drained and my tonsels removed when I was 5 52. Hair dyed in different color: The bottom half of my hair, yes 53. Sport: Professional eating? 55. Vacation: Lord idk I just want to travel 56. Pair of trainers: What?

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating Currently: Nothing :( 58. Drinking currently:��Water 59. I’m about to: Answer the rest of these questions 61. Waiting for: 4 pm and death 62. Want: SLEEP 63. Get married: Facebook says I’m married 64. Career: To be determined

WHICH IS BETTER

65. Hugs or kisses: B O T H 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes are seeing. Lips are for talking and making out 67. Shorter or taller: Depends 68. Older or younger:DEPENDS 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Nice butt 71. Sensitive or loud:Huh? 72. Hook up or relationship:Depends, but relationships 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Depends on how much tequila I’ve drank

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: Yes 75. Drank hard liquor: heh... lol yes 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I haven’t been able to find my glasses in two years 77. Turned someone down: A lot more than most people believe 78. Sex in the first date: I usually do that on the second or third date 79. Broken someone’s heart: Yes, especially if you listen to my mother 80. Had your heart broken: Yes 81. Been arrested: Not yet but I can’t make promises 82. Cried when someone died: Kind of? I don’t really know how to answer this. 83. Fallen for a friend: Yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: Depends 85. Miracles: I believe in science 86. Love at first sight: Yes 87. Santa Claus: SANTA IS REAL 88. Kiss on the first date: Hell yeah??? 89. Angels:Jeonghan

OTHER:

90. Current best friends’ names: Amie and Jojo 91. Eyecolor: brown/green/hazel mix 92. Favorite movie: Just My Luck

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seasonsofreckoningrp-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, Sarah! You’ve been accepted for the role of Isabel Cardenas. Please make sure to check our checklist, and you have twenty-four hours to send us your character’s blog. We’re really happy to have you in our family!

We’re blown away by your application! You’ve captured the Isabel we were looking for and as we read your application, we knew that she'd be in good hands. From the reasons why you chose Isabel to the headcanons you've created for her, it's amazing! We can’t wait to see what you have planned next for her!

Introduction

Sarah, 26, CST, She/Her

Activity level: I usually check a characters blog everyday to see what I need to reply to. Sometimes it takes me a couple days to actually get to replies and it goes by muse for the most part.

Further contact:

[Removed]

How did you find the roleplay?

I was going through the supernatural RP tag and came across it.

Roleplay experience:

I’ve been roleplaying for over 5 years on and off. I had a 1x1 for awhile. It’s been awhile since I’ve been in a group.

Triggers:

[Removed]

Anything else?

[Removed]

IC INFORMATION

Desired character:

Isabel Cardenas

Faceclaim:

Ana De Armas

Why did you choose this character?

Her story is incredible to me. She seems like such a well rounded character. There’s so much potential to have her gain many friends because she can be so kind. There’s potential to write out her grieving process, which will be really really hard on her. There’s also potential to do different character development not just for the future, but of the past as well. I like to do self paras of their past sometimes to get a feel of who they were versus who they are now.

Para sample:

Isabel could feel the pain before she’d even perceived it. It was dull, and distant at first, then it slowly became something she understood to be real. Her hazel eyes fluttered open, her thick lashes batting a few times. Her view was of the ceiling tiles, flecked with pieces of grey. The pain wasn’t distant at all now, and as she tried to move it became more obvious what had happened. She reached to push herself up in the bed she was laying in and found herself letting out a cry of discomfort. Where was she? Why did she hurt this much? The girl laid back in her bed, and took the opportunity to look at her surroundings. She saw the IV in her arm connected to a machine next to her. She had wires scattered through out her chest, that she thought were to monitor her heart. That was when it hit her.

She was in the hospital.

Isabel looked toward the window of her room and saw her mother sitting in a chair next to her bed, the woman was half asleep. She tried her best to recreate the events in her mind. What was the last thing she remembered? She had been driving…the car broke down…there had been a thud. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks. An animal. She’d gotten out to check on an animal. “Mama…” She uttered, reaching for the woman. Her mother awoke when she heard the plea from her child and ran toward her. Speaking their native language she asked the woman what had happened. Thank God, you called roadside assistance or no one would have ever found you in those woods, her mother told her. Isobel’s eyes filled with tears as she assessed the damage on her body. Large bite marks and claw marks peppered her skin, some of them so deep she had no idea they would ever heal.

Isabel was packing her things, getting ready to leave her hospital room when one of the nurses came to check on her. “Hey, Jill,”she said, giving the nurse a calm smile. She sat back on the bed and waited as the woman surveyed her injuries. When the nurses brow furrowed was when Isabel got worried. “What’s wrong?” She asked, trying to catch the woman’s eyes. “Your wounds…they look better than when I changed the bandages last night…” She trailed off before she put a mask over her concern and smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Looks like you’re a fast healer.” She said, squeezing Isabel’s hand before walking out the door. The brunette got back up to zip up her bag and went into the bathroom to look in the mirror. She had dark circles under her eyes and a deep scratch on her jawline that she touched carefully, her lip bloodied and scabbed over. That was when she caught the sound of her nurses voice carrying through the hallway and right into Isabel’s ear. It was so loud, that it sounded like Nurse Jill was standing right next to her.

“It’s so strange. I’ve never seen someone heal like that. We need to call the doctor…he has to see her. He’ll never believe me.”

Hearing the urgency in the woman’s words made Isabel anxious. She’d signed the paperwork, it was time to take her leave. The healing of the wounds, the hearing of a person that was across the wing of the hospital, they didn’t add up. She reached for her glasses, which her mother had brought her after she’d left them in the car, and put them on. To her surprise, the entire world was fuzzy. She frowned and took the glasses off, realizing that she could see perfectly. How did she not notice this before? “¿Qué mierda?” It was as if it hadn’t registered to her that she didn’t need her glasses any longer, not until she had them on and the world became confusing. She didn’t have time to ponder it, not here in this hospital room.

She grabbed her bag and started for the door as quickly as she could, wincing at the level of pain she was in. Surprisingly, she was much more agile than she’d ever known herself to be. She’d never been the most graceful of people. Her stomach started to turn, a scratching gnawing at her insides. Her body was telling her something had changed, it was trying to get her to realize that nothing was the same. That she was something new altogether. Her ears perked when she heard the elevator start up and she hurried in it’s direction. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t drawn attention and that was when she collided with someone else. Her head turned back to the front and before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed the cup of coffee that had been ejected from the hand of the person she’d walked into.

How in the hell…? “Wow…you’ve got good reflexes..” The person mused, totally forgetting that she’d been the one to crash into him. She ignored him, yet another thing making her wonder who she was. She took the stairs, going as fast as she could although her body was still aching. She heard her mother’s familiar voice, although she didn’t know how. There were so many voices in her ear…how could she simply pick her mother out of them? Isabel followed the sound, stopping in the cafeteria of the hospital. “Mama…” She called. Her mother gave her the strangest look as she put her phone in her pocket. “Isabel…How are you walking upright,” the woman asked. Isabel shook her head and took her mother’s arm.

“No me creerías si intentara.” She said in her native language. You wouldn’t believe me if I tried.

EXTRA

Personality traits:

Three positive and three negative traits. You are free to elaborate why you chose those traits, but it isn’t mandatory.

Positive Traits

Isabel is a very caring and kind person to everyone she meets. She’s got so much empathy for other people, that she ends up making a lot of friends out of the people she meets. She will always come to those in need and offer a hand whenever needed. She tries to remind herself of the things her mother taught her to keep her on track.

Isabel is fiercely and totally loyal. She is loyal to her friends, to her pack, she was loyal to her entire family. She is not fickle and doesn’t change her mind easily.

Isabel is completely motivated. When she sets her mind to something, she will not stop until that something is done. First, it was helping at the family restaurant, then it was schooling. She’s very ambitious when it comes to her life, and her actions speak to that.

Negative Traits

Since being turned into a werewolf, Isabel is angry all of the time. Between being angry over the fact that she was turned, being angry at herself for killing her family, and being just plain angry, she can have a temper when pressed in the wrong way. It’s usually superficial, and it’s something she ends up feeling bad about almost instantly after it’s done.

She is very stubborn at times when she has her mind set. When she believes that she is doing the right thing, she won’t back down…even if that thing is the wrong thing.

There are times where Isabel can be too trusting of other people. She wants to see the best in everyone even if they don’t have a best. Being eager to make friends isn’t always a good thing. She has a tendency to overlook the bad someone has done in order to see the good.

Headcanons:

Isabel is a workaholic and it definitely shows. She’d rather be swept up in some kind of work than sitting around letting her mind wander to her past.

Isabel is a fantastic cook. She has all of her mother’s recipes memorized and although they aren’t quite as good as hers, making those dishes is very therapeutic for her. They illicit positive memories, although it’s painful, it helps her remember their best times.

Isabel resents her wolf form immensely. And she doesn’t know if she will ever be okay with what she is. She misses her normal life, she misses her family. However, she doesn’t resent other wolves for what they are. None of them turned her, and they don’t deserve her judgement.

Any other moodboards would be put on her tumblr page. I’m not skilled in making graphics but I do a lot of character work through headcanons, moodboards and paras.

#accepted

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