#I didn’t get a proper letter this year from my psych but

[lucemxnox]

I don’t think I’ve EVER encountered someone as selfish and disrespectful as my current roommate right now. She’s the RA too so like I can’t do much. It was WAY past quiet hours and she was still going off playing videos and loudly talking with her guest. She usually does this on weekends. But it’s a weeknight. And she was going and going. At 1am after she started fucking FaceTiming people I opened my door and basically said to her “it’s 1am. I’m trying to sleep. I have class and things. If you wanna continue this do it elsewhere” and all she did was “are we being too loud :( “ and then continued to do EXACTLY what she was doing. I can feel myself becoming very mentally and physically unwell again from lack of sleep and high stress. I literally just had to set up an appt with the RD, her boss, for tomorrow despite that being a day I had to do other shit for school, because she refuses to be a decent person. In grad school I NEVER expected having to plead with my *RA* to respect the rules and let me sleep, especially near the end of the semester when everything is due.

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 1

There Is Strength in Sweetness 

Much like the years, the seasons of D20 start coming and they don’t stop coming. Fantasy High: Sophomore Year is barely in the record books and we’re already jumping into our new season--the Game of Thrones/Candyland mashup: A Crown of Candy!

If y’all have been with me since Sophomore Year then you know that I did very in depth recaps of every episode with a very specific format but I’m gonna try something new for this season.

The format might change a little between episodes as I figure out what works best so bear with me but the plan is to do more highlights and opinions than a blow by blow. But, like, we’ll see what happens.

So, anyway, saddle up your Meep and let’s visit Candia--one of the six kingdoms of the land of Calorum (aka: a fridge. We see you Brennan, it’s a fridge). Twenty years ago, the Ravening Wars wreaked havoc but they’re currently in a time of peace which (mostly) everybody is psyched about.

Meet the Family

This is not a new observation but, while most seasons of Fantasy High focus on found family, this season is all about family-family, specifically, the royal family of Candia and their associates. 

We’re first introduced to Murph’s character--Sir Theobald Gumbar (Level 3 Eldritch Knight)--who is the a huge, golden-armored, gummy bear, leader of the Tartguard, protector of the royal family, and the logical endpoint of Murph’s lawful good predilections. Sir Theo is, of course, on time with bells on for the big Saint’s Day/Coming of Age birthday party for the twin princesses of House Rocks. Unfortunately, he’s clearly never seen The Little Mermaid because when the heralds announce the princesses, they don’t show up. Frustrated, he goes to try and find them.

The first place he checks is with Zac’s character, Chancellor Lapin Cadbury (Level 3 Celestial Warlock). He is (in no particular order) the royal tutor, a chocolate bunny, an official of the main state sanctioned church of Calorum (the Bulbian Church), and a pompous ass. Oh, one more thing? He and Theobald can’t stand each other. There is nothing funnier than two very proper grown men who hate each other's guts. Sir Theo shows up to his classroom where the princesses are having a lesson--or at least they’re supposed to be. Further inspection shows that they’ve just left two straw dummies in their place. Classic.

So, we pan out to the city to meet my favorite characters so far (I absolutely play favorites but I also disclose when I’m doing it so I think I’m in the clear) the twin princesses/chaos gremlins--Jet and Ruby Rocks (both level 1 Rogues) played by Emily and Siobhan. Theo may not have seen The Little Mermaid but the twins have def seen Aladdin, because their number one pastime seems to be escaping the palace to roam the city--hilariously illustrated when they chuck a gem into a peasant's bag and his reaction is a super nonplussed, “Guess the princesses escaped again.” They’re got the Disney Princess-itis really bad because both of them feel stifled by palace life and want more--specifically, Jet wants to be a warrior and resents having been born in peacetime (especially since she’s slightly older and in line for the throne) and Ruby wants to run off and join the circus as an acrobat. They are total twin BFFs to the point that their Thieves Cant has been reskinned to Twinspeak which is a detail I love so much (and that will become unspeakably tragic if something happens to one of them Brennan). 

Jet gets a letter from her secret crush Thad, an Avocado from Fructera (these are the sentences I am being forced to write this season folks) and schemes with Ruby about how they can get to Comida (the capital city) to meet him--possibly by sweet talking Theobald which is easy because he’s so thirsty for respect. Sure enough, Theobald and Lapin soon find them, following their path of destruction and the princesses are brought back to the castle.

Back at the castle, we’re introduced to Lou’s character--King Amethar Rocks (Level 3 Storm Herald Barbarian)--who is having a somber moment, surrounded by the statues of his four older sisters who died in the Ravening Wars, leading his reluctant taking of the throne. He’s interrupted by Lord Calroy (his right hand guy and a full ass talking slice of cake because Brennan is trying to break me this season but I refuse to give him the satisfaction) who lets him know that his daughters have escaped and his delighted reaction immediately lets us know which side of the family they take after.

Finally (at least wrt PCs), we meet Ally’s character--Liam Wilhelmina of House Jawbreaker (Level 2 Ranger) who is a political prisoner/ward of House Rocks and a soft, outdoorsy, mountain kid who is perpetually followed around by his pet pig--Peppermint Preston whose death will absolutely force to me to Google “Best Denny’s Parking Lots for Fistfights.” He misses his dad but not his dick brothers because Ally isn’t allowed to have a fully happy family in any season. Liam is from the disgraced House Jawbreaker and his brothers seem to expect him to try and off the King while he’s in their orbit. While he’s in the woods, looking for seeds (as one does) he finds and accidentally breaks an important looking teacup, which we’ll get back to.

The other important character we meet this episode is an NPC--Queen Caramelinda, mother of the princesses, wife of Amethar, and keeper of 100% of the impulse control of House Rocks. She’s the main disciplinarian to Jet and Ruby, the clear decision-maker in the kingdom, and the only literate one out of her and her husband. She also seems to be the only character that respects Lapin’s authority. 

An Inciting Incident

So, with all our characters assembled, all that’s left is the plot hook which Caramelinda provides in the form of a personal letter from Emperor Gustavo--the head honcho of the entire realm and his old friend--to Amethar. He’s not doing well health-wise and he needs to name an heir that’s not related to him at a big tourney that he’s personally inviting Amethar to. Amethar is a little slow on the uptake but Caramelinda eventually connects to dots for him that it seems very likely that Gustavo is going to name him emperor.

Amethar is not vibing with that information at all but Caramelinda basically holds him by the ear until he reluctantly agrees to go--though he insists that Ruby and Jet also come along to keep him company. Caramelinda only agrees on the condition that Lapin goes with. She also invites Liam (who is caught off guard but game) and Sir Theo is basically going by default. Caramelinda is staying home to hold down the fort but the talking slice of cake is going because Brennan hates me and doesn’t want me to be happy. 

The traveling party is chosen, the twins have been gifted with sick, inherited weapons from their aunts: Flickorice--the Twizzing Blade (Jet) and Sourscratch--the Puckering Bow (Ruby). It’s almost time to be off, but there’s still one last thing to get to before we leave the twins’ party. 

Lapin, feeling the pull of something broken (told you we’d get back to it) subtly makes his way outside, but is followed by Jet and Liam. Now, if you remember, I said earlier that Lapin is an official of the Bulbian church. Which is why it’s so surprising for Jet and Liam to see him talking to the Sugarplum Fairy, a deity of the Sweetening Path--a non-sanctioned more animistic religion that really only has sway in Candia. He fixes the teacup and then she appears, telling him that he’ll need to be wary once he leaves her sphere of influence and that boldness will be required in the days to come. Lapin, who seems to be having this conversation very begrudgingly, asks if she’s asking him to do anything in an official capacity and she smiles and says that she’s not asking for her third wish(!). Then what does she want? She wants him to know that there is great risk in what he is doing, but not acting is the greater risk. The coming challenges will be great, but he must protect the royal family or all is lost. She wouldn't have used her second wish to bring him to them if that weren’t the case. They hustle back and spill this to Ruby, obvs.

Anyway, onward! The next day, the caravan is set up and--with a warning about a sugar free chocolate warlock (ominous, as sugar free chocolate always is) they’re on their way to meet their escort out of Candia. Ruby decides to do her acrobat thing and is hanging out on top of the carriage instead of inside it as she and Jet “subtly” (read:not at all) bring up the Sugarplum Fairy to Lapin to see if he cracks.

Suddenly, the caravan stops. There’s a tree felled in the path, which really only means one thing in this kind of story. 

Ambush.

Ruby, outside of the carriage and unprotected, takes 16 points of damage and is fully down with a failed death save due to some unknown effect. The carriage is riddled with arrows. 

Everyone rolls for initiative and that takes us into a new (sure to be recurring) segment I’m calling:

Things I’m Concerned About

I’m concerned about Jet and Ruby (and not just because I’ve been worried about Ruby for a while due to things the cast has said and because she fully *died* this episode). They have their genres so wrong. They think they’re Disney movie protagonists but they’re in Game of Thrones and they don’t know it. Being Wrong Genre Savvy is a BAD position to find yourself in. Carriage surfing shenanigans don’t fly in a world that wants you dead.

OK, Carameinda. I’m inclined to be pro-Caramelinda. Like, she’s the hardass but she needs to be because Amethar isn’t helping run the kingdom. If this was a different story, she wouldn’t give me any pause but I read Macbeth and feel some light Lady Macbeth vibes. Gonna be keeping an eye on her.  

Calroy and Sir Toby (didn’t mention him, he’s a slightly lower ranked Gummi Bear guard and friends with Theo). In a story like this, I’m looking for the possible betrayals before I get blindsided and the only people who can really betray you are people who are supposedly loyal to you. Calroy had a little aside with Amethar about how he shouldn’t be the Emperor if he doesn’t want to be--which isn’t wrong but is also something someone angling to keep him off the throne for other reasons would say--and Sir Toby decided to stay behind to help hold down the fort--again, either an innocuous decision, or angling to be left alone and to his own devices. 

Whatever is going on with the Sugarplum Fairy and Lapin? Do not care for that one bit. I understand that a Warlock pact is mechanically very similar to a Paladin oath and a Celestial Warlock pact is even moreso but guess what? Still don’t trust it. I know Ruby’s Arcana check said that she’s generally a chill spirit but I still don’t trust it. And getting Wishes from your follower? Weird and suspicious. What’s your game, lady?

Emperor Gustavo apparently has a daughter who is barred by law from taking the throne when he dies. That sounds like a very strong motive for *something* at some point down the line. 

I’m a little concerned Jet is being catfished by this Avocado. First of all, not a sentence I thought I’d ever write. Second of all, I’m probably just being paranoid. But that feels like a great way to get a princess alone for kidnapping or shanking or something. 

Update: Brennan did an AMA and, regarding the previous bullet point he said, and I quote, “You are right to be concerned!” so now I’m concerned about that too! Fun!

I’m concerned about the mechanics of how a slice of cake person works. Slice implies a full cake. Where is the rest of the cake Brennan? Where is it? And, like, Brennan said on the post-show stream that we’re making the “what do they eat?” question weirder than it actually is because we’re made of some of the stuff we eat but hey Brennan? If I could pick a flesh toned and textured apple off a tree? That would be weird, OK? And I’m sorry for everyone else who had to picture that but it had to be said since Brennan is insisting on walking us down this garden path.

I’m concerned about whatever the hell is happening with Liam. Disgraced dad, mom is a shaman of the local fringe religion (Sweetening Path, like Lapin), and his brothers want him to shank the king or something? No way this ends in smiles for everyone. 

Brennan said Pyramid of Food so I’m concerned about fruit rollup mummies. 

OK but more than anything, I’m concerned about the death rules of this game. Death in D&D is cheap but, in a campaign like this, it can’t be. I’m not super well versed in GoT but it’s my understanding that resurrection in that series is possible but rare. Brennan said he specifically didn’t let Ally stock certain healing spells and that’s very telling about how things are gonna be handled. I guess we’ll see in the upcoming battle episode how that works but my general thought is, I hope everyone made interesting backup characters.  

Five More Things

So, my thoughts on the new characters. I love Ruby and Jet with my entire heart. Watching Emily and Siobhan roleplay sisters and enable each other and hype each other up is so fun--or it would be if I wasn’t low key bracing to lose one of them sooner rather than later. Zac playing against type and Murph playing to type are both fantastic. I want nothing more than for Theobald and Lapin to continue sniping at each other. I hope that’s the first PvP fight of D20. Amethar is a lot of fun but clearly in over his head and I’m interested to see where he’s pushed. Liam is literally just vibing. Hope he doesn’t have to commit regicide!     

God, the House Rocks PCs are such a disaster family. I love it. The moment when Calroy comes in and is like, “The princesses have escaped,” and Amethar breaks into a grin and is like, “Dude, that’s so dope!” I was like OH, so it’s *all* of them, huh. But, honestly, this should have been on the “Things I’m Concerned About” list because come on. They’ve not all gonna make it. And then we’re gonna have to watch the remaining family members react to that? Oh no. 

Love Ruby’s bow. I have a player in my game who also has a magic bow that produces energy arrows because, truly, who has the time to deal with the logistics of how many arrows you had left after last fight? Magic arrows. Boom, done. Next. 

Getting bagged on by your Patron for not having a spell when she’s the one who gives you your spells is so funny. Also, Mending isn’t a Warlock spell which makes it even funnier. 

**I’ve given myself a 3k word limit on all of these to try to put some boundaries on myself but, Lol, prize to the first who guesses closest to the first episode I break that rule.**

[choicesfanatic86]

Through The Storm: Part 3

DISCLAIMER:      All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters  unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson returned to New York a broken version of herself after a failed whirlwind romance.  Years later, she has put the past behind her and rebuilt herself into a successful event planner who is happily enjoying her fast-paced New York lifestyle.  However, just because she’s put the past behind her, doesn’t mean it won’t come back to haunt her.  When an unexpected letter turns up on her doorstep, she’s forced to face the people and feelings she ran away from all those years ago.

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06/09/2020 - Part 3 is up! I hope you enjoy this revitalized version.  As a FYI, as I post a new part of the revamped version, I will be taking down the old chapter.  This is just so that people won’t get confused between the revamped version and the original version.

                                          PART 3 - Here We Go

Please Come.  The words stared back at me as I read the tiny slip of paper over and over again.  He wanted me to come back.  Apparently, he also wanted me to email him.  I smirked.  He knew of my aversion to telephone conversations.  He probably figured I’d be more willing to email him than to actually pick up the phone and call him.  Reading his email address, I couldn’t help but giggle softly.  He was still as childish as ever.  Of course he would still have the same ridiculous email address.  He’s Maxwell.  All the anxiety and apprehension that had been troubling me seemed to fade away.  Then again, when Maxwell was involved, it always seemed to fade away.

“So, who’s getting married?”  Andy asked, interrupting me from my thoughts.  She tried to lean over to get a better glimpse of the invitation in my hands.

“Maxwell’s brother, Bertrand.”  I smiled, scanning over the beautiful calligraphy.  “Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford cordially invites you to the celebration of his marriage to Lady Savannah Walker at the Beaumont Estate on Saturday, May 5th.  Formal attire required. ” I recited the perfectly proper wording off of the invitation.  “I would expect no less of the Duke of Ramsford.”  I snorted.

“It sounds so stuffy.”  Andy crinkled her nose.  “Are all of Cordonia’s people like that?”

“Well, if you met Bertrand, you’d understand,” I chuckled.  “He’s all about all things prim, proper, and respectable.  He’s a traditionalist through and through.”

“He sounds like a bore,” Andy said, shaking her head.  “So, are all of them like that?  That Maxwell guy you mentioned?” Andy pressed on.

I shook my head, thinking about Maxwell and Drake.  “Not everyone.”  I smirked.  “The groom’s brother, Maxwell, he’s anything but boring.  If anything, he keeps everyone on their toes with his crazy antics,” I laugh to myself thinking of his break-dance moves and the countless Beaumont bashes.  “The bride’s brother, Drake, he’s as common as they come, and he is probably the most down to earth fellow in all of court.  He really looked out for me while I was there.  He was such a genuinely decent guy.  Court is hard for commoners.”  

I bit on my lower lip recalling all of the hardships that I had encountered at court.  “Most nobles only care about titles and wealth.  Drake had neither, so it made him an outsider.”  I frowned a little.  “Just like me.”  

“Well, I’m happy you had someone who knew what you were going through while you were there.   Court seems like a pretty lonely place.”  Andy said decisively.  She paused for a moment before continuing.  “That being said, maybe you should think about going.”

My head snapped up.  “What?”

Andy reasoned, “You know …time heals all wounds and all that jazz.  It might be good for you to go back and get some closure.”

“I have closure,” I said in exasperation.  “I just figured out how to move on with my life . . . I don’t need to go stirring things up again,” I said firmly.

“Hear me out for a second,” Andy said.  

I suddenly couldn’t breathe again.  I looked at Andy as I paced around the living room.  I suddenly felt betrayed.  I had just spilt my heart out to her . . . telling her how tough court had been . . . how broken I became . . . and after all that she still thought it was a good idea for me to go back there?

“They obviously want you to come back.  You say you have closure, but what about them?  Maybe they need closure, too.  From the sounds of it, even though you keep saying this is all in your past, it’s still having a pretty big effect on you.  I’ve never seen you like this.  We’ve been roommates for over a year now, and you have been a pillar of strength.  But Ri, I’m starting to see some cracks in that pillar,” she said softly.  

”What are you talking about?” I questioned angrily.

“You get this invitation and suddenly all hell breaks loose.  Sweetie, you’re a hot mess right now.  And if you get like this over a simple wedding invitation, Lord only knows how you were when you first came back to New York.”  Andy gently continued.  “You are not doing okay, Ri.  Something is obviously bothering you and I think you need to go back there and figure it out.” 

I shook my head like a maniac.  “No way,” I said as I quickened my pace walking around the living room.  “Are you insane?  I haven’t seen any of these people in two years.  TWO YEARS.  Plus, I left pretty much telling everyone not to talk to me ever again.  I think my exact words were to forget I ever existed,” I cried as I started to wave my hands back and forth frantically.

“Riley,” Andy started to say.

“No.  You don’t get to talk anymore.  You need to listen.” I said firmly.  “How am I supposed to go anyway?  It’s all the way in Europe … in like three weeks!  Not to mention there’s all these pre-wedding festivities listed here that request the pleasure of my attendance.  It’s going to be galas and parties and rubbing elbows with all the people that tried to ruin me,” I rambled.  “I just can’t jet off to Cordonia on a whim.  I have a job.  I have the Mitchell grand opening to worry about.  Paul just got back from Boston, I doubt he’d even be able to be my plus one, and I’m certainly not going alone.  I just can’t drop everything and pretend I don’t have responsibilities.  I did that once before and it bit me in the ass.”

Andy sat on the couch staring up blankly at me.   I couldn’t blame her.  I had never flown off the handle like this before.  I watched as she stood up and grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me into a hug.

“Calm down, okay?  I’m sorry,” she said softly.  “Obviously, this place . . . these people did a number on you, and I was wrong to push.  I know this is hard, and it’s probably something you never thought you’d have to deal with, but from everything you just said, you are clearly not over everything that went down way back when.  Don’t you owe it to yourself to officially close this chapter of your life?”

I blinked rapidly, processing her words.  “It has been closed for two years,” I whispered angrily.  “What are you a psych major now?” I muttered.  I closed my eyes, kicking myself for taking my frustrations out on Andy.  I know she didn’t deserve it.  She had only been trying to help.

“Andy, I’m sorry.  I’ve just … lost my damn mind.”  I grabbed the invitation and threw it on the coffee table, staring at it as if that alone would will it away somehow.  “You’re right . . . I’ve worked so hard to forget about Cordonia and the people I met there, that I never really took the time to really sort everything out.  But I’m in a good place now, and I’d hate for all the progress I’ve made in moving on to get thrown out the window,” I exhaled deeply.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Andy asked.  “What does your gut say?”

“To throw that thing in the trash and forget it even got delivered.” I said firmly, even though I knew that was impossible.  That invitation had seared itself into my brain.  There was no way I could forget about it now.

Andy snorted, clearly thinking my plan was ridiculous.

“I told you, ignorance is bliss.”  My phone dinged with a text message from Paul. I breathed a sigh of relief.  “Look, I gotta go.  Paul just got into a cab and he’s on his way to Russo’s.” I explained.  “I love you for worrying about me, but I’m fine.  Okay?”

She looked at me in disbelief.

“All right, I’m not fine, but I will be,” I said with certainty.

“Go touch up your make up,” Andy relented.  “You’re a blubbering mess, and I don’t want you to not look good for your date with Paul,” she said.  “Although, you could meet him dressed in a paper bag and he’d probably compliment your creativity,” she added with a little bit of an eye roll.

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little as I headed to the bathroom.  My waterproof mascara had served its purpose, and I only had a few smudges of make up here and there.  I rushed to clean myself up as quickly as I could.  I didn’t want to keep Paul waiting for too long, especially after he travelled home early just to see me.  As I rushed out the door, I could hear Andy yelling after me.

“Don’t forget to think about what I said!”

I couldn’t help but cringe.  She was never going to shut up about that damn invitation.

Once on the street, I hit the pavement running as quickly as I could.  The thing about New York was that everyone got everywhere by walking, catching the subway, or taking a cab.  I was fortunate enough to live in a pretty central area that allowed me to have access to some great restaurants and a plethora of stores.  Russo’s was only a few short blocks away.  If I hauled ass, I’d get there in ten minutes.

As I walk-ran toward the restaurant, I couldn’t help but let Andy’s words eat away at me a bit.  I should have been ecstatic about seeing Paul, but now, I had the burden of Andy’s words and the stupid invitation weighing heavily on my mind.  Was Andy right?  Should I make an effort to go?  But then, what if he was there?  Who was I kidding, of course he’d be there.  It was impossible for him to not attend Bertrand and Savannah’s wedding.  Could I handle seeing him face to face after all this time?  Could I even pretend that what we had between each other meant nothing?   I tried to push the thoughts aside as Russo’s came into view.  I wasn’t going to worry about it anymore.  I had made my decision – I wasn’t going to go.  I had Paul to think about.  And my job.  I couldn’t just drop everything to go jet setting to the Mediterranean.  New York was my life now., and Cordonia was just a really bad memory.  The invitation was getting trashed as soon as I got home.

I entered the restaurant as I attempted to quickly smooth the wayward strands of hair sticking up from my fast-paced walk.  I spotted Paul sitting in our booth.  We had come to Russo’s on our first date, and instantly fell in love with everything about the little corner restaurant.  Back then, the waiter was kind enough to seat us at the booth in the quietest area with the best view.  In the dozens of times we had come back here since, Paul would request the same table each time.  We liked to joke that we had exclusive rights to the table since we had probably sat there more than anyone else.  I know it was silly, but Paul loved the sentimentality of it all, and I’ll admit, it held some pretty fond memories for me as well.  It was where Paul had first started to piece the shattered parts of my heart back together.

My eyes met Paul as I approached closer to the booth.  Paul, as always, was meticulously dressed.  He was wearing a perfectly, tailored navy suit.  His tie was a matching He had impeccable style.  As he got up to greet me, he pulled a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back.  As if my heart could swoon any more.  I smiled brightly and leaned in to kiss him softly on the cheek.  I didn’t deserve him.  He wrapped me in a warm embrace and I melted into him, letting the tension of the afternoon fade away.

“I’ve missed you.”  He murmured in my ear.  “Wildflowers for my wildflower,” he said as he handed me the gorgeous bouquet.

“You sir, are too much.  You just get back from your business trip, and you’re bringing me flowers?”  I shook my head smiling. “I’ve missed you too.  I’m so sorry I’m late,” I apologized as I squeezed myself into the booth.  “Andy and I got into a bit of a fight before I came here, and it just kind of set things back a bit,” I exhaled heavily.

“That doesn’t sound too promising.  What happened?” He asked in concern.

I shrugged.  “It’s not important.  I mean, things aren’t exactly resolved, but they will be when I get home,” I waved him off.  “We can talk about it later.  Right now, I just want to spend time with you and eat some amazing Italian food.”  I looked for the menu, but found that it wasn’t on the table.  My eyes shot to Paul, “Did you order already?”

He nodded.  “I just got you your usual.  Although, I probably didn’t even have to order.  Reggie knows our order by heart already.”  

“True.”  I smiled warmly at him.  See?  Perfect.  He knew absolutely everything about me.  “What did I do to deserve you?”

He grabbed my hands from across the table.  “Oh, nothing special.  You were just your endearing self.”

And just like that, all was right in the world again.  I looked down at our joined hands and realized how happy I truly was.  Why would I give all of this up for more heartbreak?  

“So, how was Boston?”  I asked, as I pulled a slice of bread from the basket.

“Terrible.” He growled.  “I wish I never had see that city again.  Well … not so much the city, just most of the people ithere.  Plus, there have been so many headaches with the McCullough merger.  It’s a nightmare.  Truly.  No one wants to budge.  Looks like we’re going to have to meet a few more times before we come to even some semblance of a deal.”

“That’s too bad.  Hopefully the merger resolves quickly so that you don’t have to take too many flights back to deal with things.”  I could see the dark circles under his eyes and felt terrible.  All of the traveling back and forth was taking a toll on him, and even though he would never admit it, I’m sure it would probably be easier to just stay in Boston until everything was resolved, but he flew back and forth so that he could spend time with me.

“One can only hope.”  He agreed.  “I’m probably going to fly out there at the end of the month again.  He rubbed circles around my hand as he held it.  “But anyway, enough about McCullough.  I’ve got my best girl in front of me, and that’s all that matters now.”  He looked at me longingly.  “So ah … while we wait for our meals, I was hoping we could talk about something.  If you recall during our earlier conversation, there’s been something on my mind and I just can’t wait to talk about it.”

I sat up a bit straighter in the booth.   “Of course.  What was it that you wanted to discuss?  Is everything okay?”  

“Yes, of course.”  He smiled brightly.  “Everything’s perfect.  It’s just while I was in Boston I did some thinking.  I missed you every day.  The texts and Facetime sessions were great, but it wasn’t the same as having you by my side.”  He reached up to stroke my cheek, and I felt myself instantly flush over his gentle caresses.  “And every night I went to bed, I wished for you to be right there next to me, and then it had me thinking that maybe it’s time to take the next step.”

“The next step?” I looked at him a bit confused.  “What next step?” I asked.

“Of our relationship.” Paul broadly smiled.

I licked my lips nervously.  Next step?  As in marriage? My eyes widened a bit, and I could feel my leg bouncing nervously under the table.  Well, this escalated quickly.  Marriage wasn’t even something I thought was on the table.  At least not right now.

“Oh?” I asked, my voice a bit hoarse from being caught off guard with his suggestion.  “But don’t you like where things are at right now?  I mean, we’re pretty happy, right?”

“Well, of course.” Paul exclaimed.  "Things are going well.  Really well.  I love you, Riley, and I know you aren’t ready to say it yet, and you don’t need to … but we’ve been together for eight months now, and I know that you’re it for me.”  

I felt my mouth dry out.  Oh crap, he IS talking about marriage.  Oh my God.  I felt the heat from my anxiety rising up my neck.  I quickly let go of Paul’s hands and reached for my glass of water.  I took a large gulp.  “But we’ve only been together for eight months … how could you possibly know …” I trailed off, my face becoming hotter and hotter by the second.  There was no way I was ready for marriage.  Holy crap, I was so in like with Paul.  A lot.  I could even love him.  Someday.  Down the line.  When my heart wasn’t damaged.  He was funny and sweet and sensitive . . . but marriage?

“I’m not proposing or anything, Riley. I just think that we should start seriously thinking about moving in together.”

“Whew,” I exhaled a loud breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding in.  As much as I cared about Paul, and enjoyed our time together . . . I hadn’t given any thought to a long-term future with him.  I loved spending time with him, and I loved our long conversations . . . but I didn’t know if I was IN love with him.  At least not yet.  And moving in with him?  God, that’s like a major step toward lifelong commitment.  Isn’t that the sort of thing you did after being together for a couple years?  “Moving in together?”  With everything that I had been dealt today, this was just the cherry on the sundae.  

“Well, yeah.  I’m not getting any younger Riley.  I’m 39.  I know I work a lot, and I’m on business trips more than I am at home, but I want a life with you.”  He reached for my hands again, gently rubbing my fingers.  I could feel my hands relax against his.  “I think moving in together will give us a whole new perspective on our relationship – it’ll bring us closer together.”

I sighed deeply.  “That’s a big step.  A very big step.”  I had missed him terribly while he was in Boston.  I missed snuggling with him, and talking to him . . . but moving in together meant being with one another all the time.  What if it ruined what we had?  

“It is, but I think it’s the right one.”  I could tell that Paul sensed my hesitation, so I tried smile a bit, but it probably came out as more of a grimace.

Paul frowned at me.  “Is it because you haven’t said you love me yet?  Is that why you’re holding back?  Because I don’t care about that.  I told you that I’m not in a rush for you to say it.  I don’t know what happened before.  I know you don’t like to talk about your past relationships, but I want you to know that I’m not like those other guys.  I will wait for as long as it takes.  I’m not going to give up on you.  I’m not going to give up on us.”

My heart flip flopped once more, and I could feel my eyes water as he spoke.  I will wait for as long as it takes.  After everything that happened today, I found myself thinking about him once again.  He had said those very same words to me two years ago, except, he didn’t really mean it.  I was almost certain that Paul did.  

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”  Paul reached in his jacket pocket and handed me his handkerchief.  “No tears.  This is supposed to be something exciting.”  He smiled.  “I thought you’d be excited about it, too.”

I reached for his handkerchief gratefully and dabbed at my eyes.  “I’m so sorry, Paul.  I’m just overwhelmed,” I said between sniffles.  “I’m not freaking out about the whole moving in together thing,” I paused.  “Well, maybe I am just a little.  I just . . . I’ve had a rough day,” I sighed.

He stood up and scooted into the same side of the booth with me.  “The fight with Andy?” He asked in concern.  “When I spoke with you this morning, you were having a great day off,” he added.  “Everything okay at work?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply.  “It’s not work,” I paused once more.   “The thing with Andy . . . it was a fight over a letter I got today in the mail from an old friend.  I’ve been invited to a wedding.”

“And that’s what you’re freaking out about?”  He said slowly, puzzled as to how that would make me so upset.

“In a way, yes.”  I nodded.  “Remember when we first started dating, I told you that I was still getting over something … well someone.” He nodded.  “It was some sort of fling you had before moving back to New York right?”

I contemplated his choice of word.  Fling.  It was so much more than just a fling for me.  It meant everything to me, but maybe that’s exactly how he saw it.  A fling with an American who got swept up in the grand romantic notion of love.  A fling.  The word still stung though.

“Something like that,” I sighed, suddenly feeling very uneasy.  “There’s a lot more to the story than I actually told you.”  I cringed at the thought of having to relive everything that I had just told Andy just an hour ago.  I cleared my throat and started to recollect everything – the moment I met him, the journey to Cordonia, falling in love with him, the heartbreak . . . all of it was finally laid out on the table for him to see – the good, the bad – the heartbreaking.  All the secrets I harbored from him for the last eight months came spilling out.  As I spoke, his eyes never left mine.  I didn’t cry this time.  Perhaps I was all cried out . . . or maybe just numb.  He didn’t speak or interrupt or even ask questions.  He just held my hand and squeezed when it seemed like I couldn’t get the right words out.  I tried my best to keep a brave face so that he knew that I was fine.  I wondered if he could see through the façade.  

After I was finished, there was an uncomfortable silence that lingered between the two of us.  I couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset or confused.  He was just staring at his hands, seemingly processing everything I had just told him, until a soft chuckle escaped from his lips.

“Well, suddenly I feel very inadequate.”  Paul deadpanned quietly.

“Huh?”  I said in confusion.

“I mean, when your girlfriend tells you that she used to date a Prince … wait I’m sorry … a King … and almost married him, it kind of puts corporate lawyer on the lower end of the spectrum in the dating pool,” he snorted.

I looked at him, mouth agape.  That wasn’t the reaction that I had anticipated.  I had expected yelling, or worse, him breaking up with me.  “What?” I asked again, still not comprehending how he could be so calm and relaxed about all of this.

“I mean it’s kind of hard to show up with flowers when you used to be with a guy that could have given you a whole kingdom.”  He smirked a little.  He was clearly joking, trying to make me feel better about everything.

I shook my head, lightly slapping him on the arm.  “Not funny,” I murmured, even though I was having a hard time stifling my own laughter now.

“It was two years ago, and honestly, from what I can see, there’s no competition.”  I said honestly.  “It didn’t work out between me and him, and now that there’s been a lot of distance, I realize now that it probably never would have worked out between us.  I always felt like I wasn’t enough for him.”  

I looked down at the table remembering the engagement tour, how he proudly walked around with Madeline on his arm.  I remembered the public interviews and newspaper articles about what a loving couple they were . . . while in the background, he was sneaking off to meet me on secret late night rendezvous.  Just as Cordonia was my dirty little secret . . . I was his.  It all felt so contrived.  He wanted the best of both worlds.  He kept promising me that things would work out . . . the truth would eventually come out.  He kept asking me to be patient.  For our sake.  He kept telling me to be patient, to give it time.  Then, suddenly time ran out.  

Paul’s voice broke through my thoughts.  “Hey . . . if he didn’t think you were enough for him, that’s his problem.  Not yours.  He’s the one that gave up the most amazing woman I have ever met.  His loss, is most certainly my gain,” he assured me.  I blushed and murmured a quiet thank you.

“So . . . you mentioned something about a wedding?” Paul said, quickly changing the subject.

“Yup.”  I nodded.  “Maxwell left me an email address to contact him at.  I’m assuming to give him my RSVP.  Andy thinks I should go.”

Paul was quiet for a second, mulling over my words.  “Do you want to go?”

“No . . . for obvious reasons.  I don’t really want to dredge everything back up,” I shrugged.  “I know . . . I know maybe it will bring me closure,” I rolled my eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he shook his head.  “It might be nice of you to visit with the people you’re still friendly with,” he admitted.  “But I’m not sure if it’s worth you getting hurt in the process,” he said honestly.

“Thank you,” I said.  “That’s exactly what I was trying to explain to Andy,” I explained.

“Andy really wants you to go huh?” He reasoned.  “That’s what’s making this harder on you.”

“Well, yeah.” I nodded.  “You know how Andy is, she wiggled her way into my conscience and had me second guessing everything.”  I sighed.  “I just don’t want to see him.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of thinking to do.”  Paul said simply.

I shook my head.  “I made up my mind, I’m not gonna go.  Anyway, it’s in like three weeks . . . and I’d have to be there for like two weeks,” I scoffed.  “Totally not possible with the Mitchell event coming up,” I said.

“When is the wedding?” Paul asked.

“May 5th,” I replied.

“Well, I’d like to say that if you changed your mind I’d go with you, but I’m heading back to Boston at the end of this month, and I’d probably be stuck there well into the middle of May,” he said as he looked at his schedule on his phone.

“See?  One more reason for me not to go,” I affirmed.

“You know I would go with you in a heartbeat, baby,” he said.  

I nodded.  “I know you would,” I said honestly.  “God, why are we even still talking about this?  I’m not going to go.  It’s crazy that I even considered it.  Why should I drop everything for a few weeks to go to a wedding for someone I haven’t even talked to in two years,” I said shaking my head.  “I should listen to my gut.  Maybe I’ll just send them like a nice punchbowl set or something . . .” I shrugged.

He nodded.  “I support you in whatever decision you make, sweetheart.”  

“Thank you,” I smiled earnestly.  “I appreciate how much you care about me and want the best for me.  I’m so lucky.”

“We’re both lucky,” he said.  “Maybe I’m lucky enough that you’ll say you’ll move in with me?” He pressed.  “Will you at least think about it?  I know there’s a lot going on right now, but just think about it.”

I forced a smile.  "Of course, I’ll think about it,” I squeezed his hands in encouragement.  “I just have so much on my plate right now, and like you said, you’re going to be going back to Boston at the end of the month,” I reasoned.

“I was actually hoping to have you moved in before I left,” he said sheepishly.

“Wow . . . um . . . that’s really fast,” I said quickly.  “I just . . . wow,” I said again.  “There’s so many factors to consider . . . I mean, you want me to move into your apartment?  I mean, babe, it’s amazing.  The view is spectacular and there’s so much space.  I can pretty much fit my whole apartment in your bedroom . . . but it’s also so far away from my office.  The commute is going to kill me.  Plus what about Andy?” I asked.  “I can’t leave her high and dry without a roommate.  How will she afford the rent?  I’d be such a crappy friend if I just up and left her to fend for herself,” I exclaimed.  I saw Paul’s face drop and zipped my lips.  I was rambling.  I squeezed his hands tightly.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not thinking clearly right now,” I shot him a half-smile.  “I promise that I will give it some serious thought,” I assured him.

He tried his best to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “Of course, that’s fair.”  He smiled again, this time, it was a bit brighter.  “Looks like the food’s coming.”  

I took a deep breath, thankful for the distraction.  At least the moving in conversation was put on hold for right now.  

The rest of the dinner flew by without further mention of either of the bombshells of the night.  We fell into a comfortable conversation about a few of the upcoming parties I was planning, as we finished our dinners.  As we settled the bill, Paul led me out into the street, swept me into his arms, and placed a chaste kiss on my lips.  I couldn’t help but smile as butterflies floated freely in my stomach.

“Raincheck on movie night?” he asked, looking back at me with tired eyes.  “I didn’t get much sleep last night with with the excitement of coming back early,” he explained.

“Oh my gosh, don’t be silly.  We can definitely do movie night next week,” I assured him.  “You go home and get some rest.  I’m sure all that travel is catching up with you.”

He placed a soft kiss on my head and squeezed me tightly.  “Want to split a cab home though?” he asked.

“Nah, it’s such a beautiful evening, I think I’ll walk,” I motioned around me.

“Alright, beautiful.”  He pulled me closer to him, tipping my chin up as he kissed me gently.  

“Goodnight,” I murmured against his lips, falling into his embrace one more.  

He softly ran his fingers through my hair.  “Until next time, sweetheart,” he replied as he walked down the street to hail a cab home.

I spent the rest of the walk back to my apartment mulling over Paul’s words.  Sounds like you have a lot of thinking to do.  I started to have second thoughts about my decision.  I mean, no one would really miss me if I didn’t go right?  Then again, Maxwell went through all the trouble of tracking me down . . . shouldn’t I put all my fears and worries aside and do this for Bertrand?  It’s only a couple of weeks.  I could survive that surely?  Maxwell and Bertrand were like the brothers I never had . . . and never really wanted, but that was beside the point.  When they took me in, I suddenly had a family again.  And for a while, it felt wonderful to belong somewhere.  Should I go as a thank you?  I mean, I was there when he reconnected with Savannah . . . I had helped him through the shock of finding her again and learning about Bartie.  I’d watched as Bertrand came back to life.  It’d be amazing to see them finally get their happily ever after.

And what of Maxwell?  Sweet Maxwell who was hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to reach out to me and bring me back to them.  That hope never faded after all.  He apparently couldn’t … or wouldn’t move on.  The invitation and email address made that clear.  It would be wonderful to see Maxwell again.  I actually kind of, sort of missed him.  I feel bad about how things ended and how I treated him when I came back to New York.  He didn’t deserve that.  

But what if I went to Cordonia . . . would I be forced to see him?  Them together?  I don’t think I could stomach seeing Madeline’s conniving face.  What if they had a family now?  Could I pretend to be okay when the man who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with had moved on?

What if I lost myself again?  What if I got caught up in the whirlwind of court?  I can’t go through another round of rumors and whispers from the other nobles.  Was my scandal ever resolved?  Did they ever get the truth out of Tariq?  Or was I still the court slut who slept around to get ahead?  

I’m doing it again.  I’m spiraling and I need to stop.  These unsavory thoughts were going to do me in.  This just proves that I can’t go back there.  I’ll end up breaking down.  Maybe this time it will be worse.

When I got back to my apartment, I saw that the living room lights had been turned off, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  I was not ready to go for round two with Andy tonight.  It looked like Andy had called it quits for tonight and went to go hibernate in her bedroom.  I threw my keys on the kitchen counter, and glanced at the coffee table.  The invitation mocked me from where I had thrown it earlier.  I ambled over to the table, picked up the invitation and tossed it into the kitchen trash.  That was that.  It was done. Now all I needed to do was email Maxwell with my regrets and ask where I can send a gift so that I could put this whole nightmare behind me.  

I walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured myself a generous amount in my favorite glass.  I plopped back onto the couch, pulled out my laptop and got to work.  How hard could this be?  Exchange a few niceties, thank him for thinking of me, and tell him I can’t make it.  Easy peasy.

As I logged into my email account and clicked on the new message button, I found myself stuck.  How do you start an email to someone you haven’t spoken to in two years?  I took a sip of my wine pondering how I would start and what I would say, then began typing quickly.

Dear Maxwell, Hi, it’s been a while.  Got the invite.  I can’t make it.  Would love to send a gift though.

I frowned.  That was terrible.  It sounded like I didn’t even care.  I sighed, gulping down some of my wine and crossing my legs on the couch. I tried to type again.

Dear Maxwell, I’m so sorry that I haven’t kept in touch.  Things were hard when I came back to New York, so I thought a clean break would have been better.

Oh my gosh, that’s totally off point.  I paused, thinking again, pouring a bit more wine into my almost empty glass.

Dear Maxwell, How long has it been?  Two years?  Wow time sure flies.

Nope.  Now I’m not even addressing the elephant in the room.  I sighed, a bit stumped about what to say.  I stared at the laptop’s screen, at a loss for words.  This hadn’t seemed so hard in my head.  I sighed again, and tried to type something else.

Dear Maxwell,

I got your invitation to Bertrand and Savannah’s wedding.  First of all, I’m so happy for them.  Happy for all of you.  But I can’t come back.  I’m so flattered that you thought to invite me after all this time, but my heart

I stopped typing, hit the delete button, and started again, drinking just a bit more wine than before.  

Dear Maxwell,

I received a beautiful invitation in the mail announcing Bertrand and Savannah’s upcoming marriage.  It will be a beautiful day . . . that I won’t be attending.

I crinkled my nose.  That’s a bit too harsh.  I stabbed the delete button once more, took another gulp of my wine and started again.

Dear Maxwell, House Beaumont must be knee deep in wedding planning, and I can only imagine how busy things must be for all of you.  Thank you for thinking of me and wanting me to be a part of such a special occasion.  I’ll admit that I was more than a little surprised when I saw the invitation.  I am so happy that you thought to include me in their special day, but for reasons of which I’m sure you’re aware, I am unable to attend.

I read and reread the paragraph, and deleted it once again.  God, why am I spazzing out about this?  Why can’t I just say no, with regrets and be done with it?

As I went to pour myself another glass of wine, I realized that the bottle was now completely empty.  In the course of the last hour, I had drained an entire bottle of wine by myself.  I bit my lip.  This wasn’t a job for wine anyway.  I needed something harder.  I stood up and headed over to the liquor cabinet, sifting through the various bottles until my hand landed on an unopened bottle of whiskey.  I pulled the bottle down, grabbed a glass, and poured the amber liquid in generously.  Whiskey certainly wouldn’t solve any of my problems, but I would happily indulge in something that might numb me for a while.  As I sipped from the glass, I could already feel the smooth liquor working to calm my nerves.  With the liquid courage entering my system, I started to type once more.

Dear Maxwell, Hey, it’s Riley.  I know it’s been a while, but I am reaching out to you because I received your invitation to Bertrand and Savannah’s wedding.  Let me first start off by saying that I am so happy for them! They truly deserve a happily ever after, and am so happy to hear that they are joining their lives together.  That being said, I am unfortunately unable to attend.  I run my own business now, and can’t really be away for an extended period of time.  I hope you understand.  Please let me know if they are registered anywhere as I would happy to send along a gift in celebration of their nuptials.  Please send my regards to all of them, and I hope you are doing well. Sincerely, Riley

My eyes started to get heavy, probably from all the alcohol I had consumed.  I pushed my laptop to the side, intending to send the message tomorrow morning after I had a chance to read through it once more.  As I felt sleep begin to take me, I snuggled up closer into the couch as my eyes fell heavily closed.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 11: the waning moon

Summary: Lisa feels confident enough to try learning more about the Devils again. Bad things happen in this chapter- just a warning :)))

Ao3 link

Silence.

Nothingness.

Emptiness.

But this time, it’s not so bad. It’s not a void that I’m sinking down into. It’s a cocoon, wrapped firmly around my body like a warm hug. It’s safe.

“And… open.”

I open my eyes, meeting Adeline’s golden gaze as soon as I do. We stare at each other blankly for a moment before her plump lips break into a little grin. “That felt right, didn’t it?”

I nod quickly, excitement filling me. “Yeah… how long was that?”

“Let’s see…” Adeline scrambles to her feet and walks over to the clock. “One fifty three… so, 15 minutes!” She turns back around to look down at me, still sitting cross legged on my bedroom bloor. “That’s the longest yet… you really kept your mind blank that whole time?”

“Totally blank!” With a little difficulty, I rise to my feet. “Now that I can meditate for 15 minutes, that should be more than enough time for me to enter the Septad again.” The thought of attempting that again is still making me a little apprehensive, but not nearly as much as it did before. After confronting the things I hate most about myself, and a superficial image of Julius, I managed to overcome whatever it was that was holding me back. Maybe this is just a momentary high, but I need to take advantage of it while it lasts. “Adeline… thanks for all your help.”

Adeline turns to look at me, her eyes widening as I take her hand. I offer her a gentle smile. “I couldn’t do this without you, you know.”

She stares at me a moment longer, the slightly-shocked expression still on her face. “Oh… thank you.” Finally, she gives my hand a squeeze, holding on for a moment longer than she could have. “That means a lot… if I can do anything to help you, and- er, the Kingdom, I will!”

I can’t help but giggle a little at her awkwardness as she removes her hand. “You don’t have to be so proper about it, Adeline.” I give her a nudge before walking over to the table. “I want to become friends with you, you know…”

“Huh? Friends?” Adeline’s words follow me, causing my smile to widen. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

I haven’t known her long, but I can’t deny that I want her by my side all the time… she’s a comfort, a source of warmth that I desperately need. No matter what the source of these feelings are, I want to kindle that flame… I’ll let it burn away my grief and guilt. 

“Here, I got some wine! You mentioned you liked Rose, right?” I quickly snatch the bottle off the table and hold it up for her to see. I have to suppress a cheeky grin. Hehe! I’m so smart, setting this all up for us~ I cried in front of her way too many times, I need to show her that I’m more emotionally stable than she thinks!

“OH! You remembered!” Adeline’s eyes sparkle at the sight of the bottle, but then, to my shock, narrow with skepticism. 

“But… you won’t be drinking with me, will you?”

I blink a couple times, then realize that Adeline must be more observant than she lets on. “Oh… you noticed?”

Adeline nods quickly, her playful nature coming back. “Of course I noticed! You never have any alcohol at dinner, or when you have guests, or when you’re working. That’s so responsible of you! I really admire your willpower.”

“Oh… yeah. Thank you, I try my best…”

I gulp nervously, knowing full well that the reason for my sobriety isn’t because I’m responsible or anything… if I wasn’t pregnant, I know I would have drowned in whiskey by now. I guess it wouldn’t be much fun if she was the only one drinking- but it’s not like I have a choice- I get a momentary itch to tell her about the baby, but for some reason I can’t do it. Not now, at least.

“Well, I appreciate the gift! But I need to let you sleep! It’s nearly two in the morning!” Adeline is suddenly pushing me towards my bed with an admonishing tone. “Come on, you’re already wearing pajamas.”

“Whoa- wait-” I blush a little but don’t struggle. “Adeline, you know I don’t need to sleep as much as-”

“Yeah, yeah, all that Simulcian magic stuff-” Adeline cuts me off, very business-like. “Like I said, it’s my job to help the Kingdom, and the King! So go to bed!” She steps back and gives me a tired look as I sheepishly pull the covers over myself. My face is basically burning right now. Part of me wishes she would leave, but the other part…

… wishes she would stay.

“Honestly… you get up so early, too.” She shakes her head, but can’t help but smile smugly to herself as she looks down at me. What’s going on in her head?! Does she pity me? Or does she think I’m cute… “What are you even doing? I can never find you around the castle.”

“Oh, in the mornings?” My face brightens up a bit. “I’m training!”

“Training? But, aren’t you already the most powerful mage?” Adeline asks, curiosity peaked.

“Well, maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can defeat a devil. Look-” I sit up and reach over to my bedside table, picking up a heavy book. Adeline cranes her neck to see the cover. “That’s about the Heart Kingdom?”

“Yeah.” I start flipping through the pages, dust falling out and onto my bedspread. “The mages in the Heart Kingdom draw mana from nature… they have quite a few techniques for doing so, and it can greatly amplify mana. For instance, my fire magic-” I stop on a page, covered with ancient-looking writing, and point at an illustration of a hand with fire magic bursting out of it. The fire itself is surrounded by a ring of those runes. “You can apply mana writing to your magic… draw your mana from the earth… and turn Fire magic into True Fire Magic.” I glance up at Adeline to gauge her reaction. She’s intrigued.

“Amazing… so…” She tears her gaze from the page. “Have you mastered it yet?”

“Mastered? No, not quite… but…” I close the book and brush the dust off my lap. “I want to master it… soon, we’ll be sending our own Knights to learn the natural mana method. But before that, I want to show them how powerful it truly can be.”

I run my fingers over the ancient bindings.

“And then… I want to try and draw out even more power.”

That power… I want it.

True Time Magic. 

With that… I wonder what I could be capable of.

“Anyway, goodnight Adeline.” I turn to smile up at her one last time. “I promise I’ll sleep in tomorrow for once… thank you for all your help.”

Adeline straightens up, her eyes lingering on my face before she turns away to leave.

“Goodnight! And it was my pleasure.”

The door swings shut, and darkness falls. I’m alone at last.

… I’ve cleared my mind. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to the village, and find the truth of the SImulcian’s history with the Devils!

Last time, I almost accomplished what I wanted, but I was shown something else, something unrelated, as far as I could tell. My grandparents, the last Dyad before me and Julius, standing there on the beach together in the sunset.

Our fate.

I wonder…

I close my eyes, drifting off as I curl up around Julius’s robe. 

… if they were trying to tell me something.

-------------------------------------------

I keep my promise to Adeline, letting myself sleep in until around eight in the morning. My stomach is what eventually wakes me, a familiar pang of strong nausea attacking me again and again. “Ughh… settle down!” I groan, rolling over and balling up the robe/blanket in one of my fists. “You can’t be that big yet… So why are you so painful?!”

The baby, of course, can’t answer, not yet at least. Maybe in a couple years I can demand an explanation, but that’s miles down the road as far as I’m concerned. But for now, I have to deal with it. 

Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and to the bathroom. Fortunately it seems like I won’t have to throw up, so I decide to treat myself to a nice bath. The hot water sends a pleasant chill down my back, and I sink down into the bubbles up to my neck. Ahh… that’s more like it! I smile and close my eyes, feeling more relaxed than I had the entire night. I’m itching to get up and get moving, to go out into the woods and get some training in before my first meetings, but it’s far too late for that. Marx is awake by now, and if I disappear, I’ll be getting calls every two seconds.

It’s a shame, because I just found the perfect place to train. I stumbled upon a ravine, completely by accident, in the middle of the woods one morning. It was so deep, I couldn’t even see the bottom. But, I could feel mana radiating out of it in waves, beautiful, natural mana: just what I needed. So… I jumped in.

I never did find the bottom, but I found a nice ledge to sit on while I fired off all manner of spells. Just being down there, bathing in it all… it reminded me of my youthful days spent in the woods, sitting by the stream, and honing what little magic I had.

One day… I’ll reach the bottom of that ravine. But for now, it serves a purpose. My handle on True Flame magic is developing quickly. I smile a little as I think about it before lifting my hand up out of the water. Within a moment, blue flame erupts from my fingers, condensing before twisting into letters. Ancient runes: Mana words. The basis of the Heart Kingdom’s mana method, and the key to unlocking the potential within my magic.

True Time Magic… 

Suddenly, my flame flickers out. I don’t even have a chance to be surprised before it hits me.

Pain.

It’s like a light; blinding, searing its way into the left side of my head. All my other senses dull, drowned out by the sheer potency of this feeling.

Pain.

Am I screaming? I have no idea. I can’t hear. I can’t feel.

Oh… this…

The light gets brighter and brighter. Fire burns into my mind, shards from a shattered ego piercing every inch of my psyche.

This is…

And suddenly, it’s over.

My whole body goes limp, having convulsed and tightened up more than I realized during the episode. With a shallow gasp, I fall backwards, and hit my head hard on the porcelain edge of the tub.

By the time I wake up, the water is cold, and someone is knocking on my door.

“Are you in there?!

Every cell in my body protests as I sit up again, faster than I should have, but it’s not like I have a choice. What the hell was that?! I think, shakily standing up, using the wall as a support. “I-I’m in here! I’ll be right out!”

With a little difficulty, I pull my bathrobe on, glancing at myself in the mirror before doing a double take. “Oh no… not again…”

There’s dried blood coming out of my nose, dripping down my chin.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Hold on one second!”

I wet a towel and wipe away the blood, then throw it into the sink before running to my bedroom door. Whatever just happened, I don’t have time to worry about it. Even so, pain like that… the last time I felt it, was during the first few Dyads with Julius. Back when I was weak, and almost died from the force of his mana. But, Julius is dead, the only Dyad that exists is between me and a tiny shard of his soul.

Is it something pregnancy related? Or…

It doesn’t matter. I have to get through today, then I’ll go see Owen.

“Thank god- what are you even doing in there?” Marx scowls up at me as I open the door. “I’ve been knocking and knocking- everyone’s worried about you, you know!”

“Oh? Well, I’m coming out now. Uh-” I glance over and see my cape laying on the ground, and quickly scoop it up. “There!” I throw it over my bathrobe and give Marx a grin that he does not reciprocate. “How do I look.”

Marx’s scowl only deepens as he rolls his eyes. “Put on something better! You don’t look like the Wizard King in… that.”

“Actually!” I give him a smirk. “I can’t not look like the Wizard King, technically…”

My voice trails off, leaving an awkward silence between the two of us. But right as I think the joke has fizzled out, Marx’s scowl melts into a smile, and a little chuckle manages to leave his throat. “I suppose you’re right… well, in any case, you might get a bit cold.”

“Hehe, I knew you were just pretending to be mad.” I slip on some shoes and follow him out, already forgetting about the still-full tub in my bathroom, clouds of blood still dissolving away into the way. “I promise I’ll be done with my work early today, and then I’ll change. After all, I want to go back out to the village today.”

“The village?” Marx’s eyes widen a little as we walk. “You think you’re ready?”

“More than ready!” I grin, but stop short when I realize that Marx has fallen behind. He stares at me with a weird look in his eyes, but his lips still hold a curious smile. “What?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, then slowly shakes his head.

“I don’t know… it just… you seem happy.”

… happy?

Marx lets out a sigh, almost relieved as I don’t immediately try to dispute his observation. “I’m happy for you…” His smile becomes a bit more sly as he moves again, passing me. “Whatever the source of that happiness might be…”

I turn and follow him with my eyes, before I realize what he’s implying.

“OH! Uh- Marx!”

He raises an eyebrow as I run up next to him, almost frantic. “Me and Adeline- er, there’s nothing going on between us, I swear!” I let out a nervous laugh, but start to panic when I feel heat rushing to my cheeks. Oh god- “I mean, we barely know each other, and-” I try not to remember how I tried (and failed) to get her to stay longer last night. “Well- um… er…”

Marx pulls me from my frenzy as he lets out a giggle. A sound so foreign, coming from him, that keeps me from panicking further. “I wasn’t trying to imply anything… in any case, I’m happy for you, alright?” His hand comes up and squeezes my shoulder, his smile becoming genuine. “That’s all I want.”

The heat fades, and I find myself smiling back. “Thank you, Marx…”

I reach up and squeeze the hand on my shoulder.

I don’t know how to say it… but I can never replace you. Marx… my dearest friend.

If being happy makes his pain even a little less… then I will try my best to stay that way.

------------------------------

“Look who’s back! Look who’s back!”

The sun is dipping low by the time the three of us land back at the Simulcian village, and a crowd greets us at the outskirts just like our last visit. “Hey everyone!” I smile and wave still feeling both excited and pumped for the experiment to come. “I hope I’m not dropping in at an inconvenient time?”

“Not at all!” five of them chorus in unison. “We knew you’d be back soon… would you like to come inside and meet your septad again?”

I exchange a glance with Marx, who still looks a bit nervous. Then, I turn to Adeline, who gives me a nod, her eyes determined. That determination fills me as well.

“Absolutely.”

The crowd ushers us through the street and to the “town hall,” where our last synchronization occurred. On the way, we pass the giant statue of Simulcia, and I see that they’ve painted more of her wings. I smile a little at the sight, the whitish-blue reminiscent of the mana I produce. But at the same time…

The orange sunset streaks across the wood. But her eyes remain as black and empty as ever. She’s just a statue, yet...

There’s something… deeply ominous about them.

The door closes behind me, and once again I’m standing in front of a group of six women: the sextad. It’s as if they knew I was coming! I think to myself, gulping nervously once before stepping towards them with a smile on my face. “Uh, good evening, ladies.  I hope this goes better than last time…”

Despite the fact that the prior fiasco is still very much fresh in our memories, they all return my smile and bow a little. “Of course it will! You’ve been practicing, right?”

“Yep!” I grin, coming to a stop as they turn to form a circle, this time with me at the apex. Their marks are glowing slightly on different parts of their body: right hand, left hand, chest, stomach, right knee, left knee… and mine is on my face. I guess, when the seven of us come together, we create a replica of Simulcia… and that’s how we can dive down into their memories. Thinking about the mechanisms behind this makes my head spin, so I stop.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

I pull out my Grimoire, letting it flip open to the correct page. The paper makes a soft fwip with every page, and I take that last moment to lock eyes with Adeline once more. She offers me another confident smile, but I can’t ignore the worry that’s now seeped onto her face as well.

Is this going to work? 

There’s no way she can hear me, but my thoughts reach her. 

Of course. I believe in you. 

“Alright… here we go.”

I turn back to the others, and close my eyes.

“Dyad Magic: Septad Creation.”

Mana builds up. It’s moving, fast, an endless cycle between our minds, bodies, and souls.

Please… work.

Please-

I cease to exist, and the seven of us become one. Memories fly by, faster and faster, a stream of consciousness long forgotten and left broken in the dark. My own memories are mixed in, memories of light and love, but this time, I don’t let myself remember.

Silence.

Nothingness.

Emptiness.

I open my eyes, and the septad is mine. Once again, I stand in the dark void, the only sounds being that of seven hearts pumping at once.

I did it… everything is stable.

Now…

Show me the devi-

Before I can even finish my sentence, something looms out of the darkness. It’s tint is even deeper than the void, something so unearthly and terrifying, something that shouldn’t exist. 

There’s giggling around me. I turn around, and realize that more of these creatures, of varying sizes and shapes, have surrounded me, all jumping around in place, laughing and shooting toothy grins at me. They’re terrible, and every hair on my body starts to stand up. The ground trembles under my feet with fear.

Stay calm… this is a memory. Not reality.

There’s a dull pain in the left side of my face. I ignore it.

“You… fool.”

The deep voice catches my attention. I whirl around to see a creature looming above the rest, their red eyes narrowed in their face. Four horns curl and curve up out of it’s hair, imposing and evil. 

...who are you?!

“Do you really think… this is worth it?”

When his lips move, I can see the sharp teeth lining his gums. The teeth of an apex predator.

“You can’t possibly… defeat us all.”

He raises his hand, and the world crashes down on me.

“What could possibly be worth it?”

Crushing weight hits me, but before I can feel any pain, it’s over. I blink a few times as a bright light envelops me, and I realize that I’m once again standing on the beach in Raque. Shit! Not again! Stop bringing me to this recent time- 

However, one look up the shore, and I see that this is not the same scene I saw before. It’s noon, probably, the sun high in the sky. There’s no buildings, the resort is nowhere to be found. Huh… this is the same beach, but a different time? Then, why-

I look down, and realize that I’m not alone.

A man is standing there. His clothes are simple, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved for a week. His hair is dirty, salt clinging to each strand pulled back into his ponytail. He’s shorter than me, significantly, and a fishing pole lays on the ground at his feet, where he just dropped it.

He’s… frozen. His feet are glued to the ground, but his hands shake. He looks almost poised to escape, but he can’t bring himself to.

But…

His eyes are wide, but they hold no fear. The look within them is deeply familiar.

Excitement… boyish excitement. 

He’s smiling.

Why…

… why would you look at something like me… with a smile?

And why… Why do I already know who he is?

Without thinking about it, I reach out. And, like a mirror, he reaches out (Well, up ) as well.

Why does this feel like the most important moment of my life?

He takes my hand in his, and suddenly, the beach is gone. Now, I’m looking up at him. The air is chilled with the water from the stream, and the wind blows through the bank covered with white cornflowers.

He smiles.

But before he pulls me to my feet, I let go. I let out a strangled cry and turn to run away. Memories are pouring in after the still of that quiet moment- memories of him, his face, his touch, his voice, everything, over and over and over-

He’s gone, he’s gone, HE’S GONE-

The world is shaking again, screams and cries echoing through my head. The pain gets worse, something bisecting my very soul.

Stop it, stop it, STOP-

“Breathe.”

The screams pause as the soft voice wafts through my mind. Ever so faintly, I can feel a warm hand on the small of my back, and a head resting on my shoulder.

“There’s nothing… nothing but your breath. Focus.”

No… that’s wrong…

There are new memories now; soothing memories. Adeline’s smile, the way she could ramble on for hours about the stars. How warm her hugs were, how she stroked my hair when I cried. Her hands are so soft… and her lips… they look soft, too.

Adeline… there’s nothing but you. 

Everything is still, the warmth enveloping me like a cocoon.

There’s nothing… nothing but-

“NO”

A voice rocks through the world, echoing and screeching all around me. With a cry, I fall to my knees, pain erupting once again on that side of my face. I cover my ears and grit my teeth, tears starting to squeeze their way out of my eyes. I look up slightly to see a pair of people floating above me. Hand in hand, their eyes glowing bright white.

They are my grandparents, the Dyad that came before me. A blue moth flutters around them, lazily, but still gives off the same vibe as a shark circling its drowning prey.

“There is nothing… but Julius.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t. The pain spikes, and I collapse, face first, onto the ground.

“You are a DYAD… and that’s all you can ever be. Don’t you understand?”

The only sound I can make is a gargled scream. I can taste blood now.

“You have been blessed, but now it’s time for your life to end.”

What?! What are they talking about! I weakly make a fist, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

“A Dyad is supposed to die together… it is bound so tightly by fate, that is the only option. This pain you feel… it is your soul , trying desperately to die.”

No… no! That can’t be it, why is this happening now-

“It is only a matter of time… before it succeeds.”

They start to disappear. Panic rises like a tsunami within me, and I prop myself up before they disappear. “WAIT! You can’t just say that then leave- why-”

They’re gone, nothing but screams in their wake. With a frustrated yell, I ball up my fist again and slam it into the ground. 

Die… my soul is dying?

The ground cracks like glass, and I fall. This time, I tear my eyes away from the light above, that warm, soft light that could have pulled me out. This time, I look down into the abyss, and it smiles up at me. I belong to it, now.

Somehow… I knew, didn’t I? I’m nothing… nothing but half of something beautiful that once existed.

I can’t accept it… I can’t! I’m more than Julius, I’m more than the Dyad, I’m the Wizard King!

But, it’s not up to me, in the end. My magic, my whole life, my power… it’s all because of the Dyad, and the person I made it with. It was a blessing, and now…

A curse.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never find closure. I could never separate myself from him.

I am nothing. I am a broken ego. I am inhuman. 

Silence.

Nothingness. 

Emptiness.

But this time, they’re cold. They are dead. 

And they are inevitable.

Oh god oh fuck. Next time!!! Chapter 12: the death of a world. Nobody would take that news well... and unfortunately, neither does our dear Lisa. Will she give into temptation? Or wait for her inevitable death quietly?

[dead-fandom-imagines]

Unchain My Heart | Chapter 1

I was originally going to post this on Wednesday, but then I was like, what the hell. Here you go my guys.

TITLE: Unchain My Heart

CHAPTER: Chapter I

PAIRING: Dr. Greg House x OC Female

WORD COUNT: 3,196

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ll try to post a new chapter every week, and I want to try and hit over 2,600 words each chapter too. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

THE WALLS SEEMED TO BE CAVING IN, not because Kylan Taylor was nervous on her first day on the job, no, it was all the people that seemed to be alive that made her nerves twitch and spasm. Working for five years alone in a basement does something to a person's psyche, and even more so when the people you're constantly surrounded by have been dead for more than a few days. As in, they twitched, gassed, and sometimes even breathed, but most of them had either their brain bashed in, or worse, no head at all, to comment on how her hair was always pulled with a broken pen, how her makeup became horribly smudged after working thirty hours straight, how sometimes she smelt like a mix of formaldehyde, Chinese food and other people's BO after long nights. Now she had to interact with people. Gross, disgusting, breathing human beings.

"It won't be that bad," Dr. James Wilson reassured her, handing Kylan a manila folder of paperwork she had yet to fill out. About three inches thick of stapled books and contracts she'd barely graze through, and she stuck it right underneath her arm with the other packs of paper and a mass amount of protocol packets she's received since she entered the doors that morning. The hospital must have chopped down a new tree just for her paperwork alone, how many forests rested on her new desk?

"Won't be that bad," Kylan scoffed, rolling her eyes, "didn't you say that about medical school before I applied?"

James pressed one of the elevator buttons, downwards to Kylan's new and improved basement, and chuckled to himself. It was hard not to. She seemed to still be pissed about not getting the full hardened truth of how awful and tedious medical school really was, instead, James had dazzled his story with a flat-out hopeful lie while she still attended Columbia University without him.  Kylan had such childish eyes back then. Like honey drizzled in coffee.

"If I remember correctly, I said it was like normal classes." And a smile spread on his pretty-boy features, diverting his attention from Kylan enough to make his point, "what I didn't tell you was the classes were all set on fire and you had only oil to put them out."

The elevator doors opened briefly and fast enough before Kylan could stab in another remark about her undergrad years. A few nurses dressed in colorful scrubs stepped out, and James and Kylan stepped in to replace them just as quickly.

"Any reason why the hospital is so busy?" She asked, pressing the button to the last level. Her curiosity seemed to be getting the better of her. She usually wouldn't have pried, but with James, she allowed it to slide. "Any epidemics I should be worried about?"

"It's always like this."

"Always?"

A shiver ran down her spine. Hospitals were never her favorite, in fact, she resented them with every fiber in her being. Everything about modern medicine caused her skin to crawl in a million different ways, the smells, the touch, the needles. She could sew up a body, chop it up, pull out their organs no problem, but it usually took three weeks of procrastination and a few sedatives just to get through a simple flu shot.

Watching a thirty-seven-year-old woman sniffling with her lips quivering, wet eyes and swollen cheeks just over a simple flu shot were deemed as downright embarrassing in her eyes, even more so if it was her young coworkers doing the job.

Kylan took a deep sigh as the elevator dinged at their arrival. Most of the hospitals Kylan had visited usually had empty basements, this one was no different. The lights were the usual bright LSD types, overhanging cement walls, cold air and an aura that reeked of old death. The morgue hadn't smelt of new corpses just yet, but it soon would be. Most nurses and doctors wouldn't dare come down to investigate the spooky sounds emitting from down below past the morgue.

Which was excellent. Kylan liked to blast Britney Spears in her headphones as she worked. There didn't need to be wondering eyes investigating the autopsies. What thoughts would come in your mind if you saw a middle-aged woman singing along to Toxic while messing with a bone saw in someone's torso? She'd probably receive a lengthy letter on proper procedures again if a staff member showed up in the midst of her examination, and they'd most likely repeat the sentence of "do not have a smile on your face as you chop someone's brother in half."

She claimed she never had a smile, the victim's unsuspecting family said otherwise.

When they exited the elevator, it didn't take long for James to pop out another question, "How do you like being the state medical examiner? This time by yourself right?"

Kylan kept a grin from forming on her face. Ah yes. Dr. Kylan Taylor, chief state medical examiner, board-certified and voted to be Mercer County's one and only top forensic pathologist who specializes in the strange and unusual. Dream come true that's for sure. After her long residency and following the now-retired Dr. Shoo, she was finally ready to take her first steps alone, and her heart was pumping just thinking about it.

"Yep," she said, now a white smile glowing in the otherwise dark hallways. "I always liked to cut open bodies, working through the hospital also prevents me from having to go to the crime scenes myself now. Those interns who call themselves "death investigators" really help me out." She giggled a little, "now they'll just drop off the bodies and photos for me. Less bloody in the long run." James stifled a laugh. There was a reason why he picked to help the living. Bloody crime scenes were not something he'd be able to get past, Kylan however, didn't even seem fazed.

Kylan Taylor was a five-foot-two woman with dark auburn hair, chartreuse eyes, and exceptional beauty. Everything about her radiated, from her perfect smile, the way her messy waves framed her face, her stance, her voice hidden with a slight Spanish accent. Where someone like her got the love for the dead remained a mystery even to good, long-time friend Wilson.

"So have you starred in any other pornos since you left college?" She asked out of the blue, with a hardy laugh bellowing from the pits of her stomach. "Because I'm sure some of the nurses would like to know the gentleman Dr. Wilson is not as gentlemanly as they first predicted."

Wilson stopped dead in his tracks, and Kylan had no choice but to stop and wait for him, even though her laughter was echoing the quiet hallways, James was one step away from having an aneurysm. He seemed to be both embarrassed and angry, and on the brink of hyperventilating just by thinking about it.

Everyone had mistakes in college, Wilson just happened to have been a part of a future porno.

"You are not to tell anyone about that." he cautioned, causing Kylan to laugh even harder.

"So uptight."

"I'm warning you, I have people upstairs that will use that to their advantage, and I don't need them knowing."

Kylan's eyebrow cocked, "I thought you said everyone here was your friend?"

"They are." And with her now silent, he seemed to be on the verge of either breaking out more information or keeping it to himself. But the way she stood, her eyes squinting, her arms crossed over her chest and waiting, he had no choice. He had to explain now, or she'd find some unorthodox way of getting the information herself. Sounded awfully familiar. "Okay, some of them may not be my best friends, but there are some that like to make my life miserable."

"Miserable how?"

Wilson's beeper blew off before he said anything, and for a moment he seemed hesitant to even take it seriously.

"Listen, I have to go back upstairs, think you can settle in yourself for a minute?" He asked, "this shouldn't be very long."

"Of course."

He gestured down the hall, pointing to one of the wooden doors on the left, "go through there. Your office is right next to the main morgue, so you shouldn't have too many difficulties finding it. If you need any help you can come back upstairs and ask for me or Cuddy."

She nodded, and Wilson zipped back down the hallways and back to the elevator. For a second, she didn't move. The hospital basement was too quiet now, and the taps of her heels echoed in a way she did not like. There were chairs sitting outside doorways, for reasons unknown, and the light down the hall seemed to be flickering.

Kylan liked dead bodies, but she didn't like the idea of working in a hospital that may or may not be haunted. If she heard something move or a weird voice echoing in the night, she was going to quit. Right then and there, no questions asked. Didn't matter if they were willing to pay a few million dollars for her to stay, being haunted was not worth it.

But luckily she hadn't heard anything yet, so Kylan graciously took the time to skedaddle her way into the room.

Just as Wilson had said, her new office was hidden in the back. Warm air hit her face momentarily, and the smell of something sweet caused her to sneeze as she took a glance around. It seemed the Hospital Interior Designer didn't leave even her new office out of the budget.

Mahogany bookshelves with vases and sculptures hiding in its walls, a set of encyclopedias Kylan would never read, a desk with a high-tech computer system and neatly organized file holders, small lockers, a pretty little lamp, and just as she predicted, enough paper to fill a large forest. She couldn't believe she was right, and she smiled to herself as she slowly walked to her new desk. Glass top. Perfect.

Kylan placed the files Wilson had given her on the corner and set her purse at the side of the table leg, biting her lip with a smile. She had a new coat rack where she could hang her scarves and coats in the winter, and a hook for her lab coats when she had the time to bring them in from her old space. She'd need to get the rest of her medical supplies from her house too, and she'd be all settled in, as she had always been wanting.

It was better than her old office at the county police station that was for sure She had a desk there, and shelves just like the ones presented to her now, but much smaller, and basically the room itself was about the size of a coat closet. It would get too hot in the summers, too cold in the winter, it felt like a meat locker half the time and she had to wear some sort of winter coat and finger less gloves just to do paperwork without shivering.

This was a much better improvement.

Before Kylan could even start going through the paperwork, a strange noise in the back caused her skin to crawl with goosebumps. For a moment she had figured it to be the strong winds she had experienced in the parking lot, but another shuffling caused her logical thoughts to scurry away just as quick. Her office had giant windows showcasing the first part of the morgue, but from what she could tell no lights were on, and there was definitely no one coming from the hall. She would have heard the footsteps on the concrete floors or even the ding of the elevator. This was much different, and it caused her spine to shiver.

Kylan hesitated on going anywhere near the windows. Wilson would have mentioned something about animals sneaking in, right? Or even mention if anyone else would be wondering the morgue, cleaners, nurses, someone. But she doubted someone would even go into the main laboratory, and doing so in the dark was downright stupid. There were thousands of dollars of sharp knives, saws, needles and equipment that no ordinary person could just get their hands on, and one wrong move those things would cause some serious damage. She kept her eyes locked at the windows, waiting for something to emerge. But nothing came out it, and another loud bang caused her skin to jump right off her bones.

Against her better judgment, Kylan slowly walked forward. Waiting for a dead person to smack against the window, bloody and oozing like those horror movies her brother loved so much. But even in her wildest imagination, she had doubted something like that would ever happen, so she kept close to the wall trying to find the damn light switch to the morgue. Maybe if it was a raccoon or a rat, the light would scare them off. Give her enough time to warn staff on an infestation of rodents and they could come and clean it quick. God, even the thought of having a few rats where dead bodies would be sitting caused her stomach to churn.

Kylan fiddled with the light switch until a flood of artificial flood lamps lit the room. It seemed the first part of the morgue was clean, untouched, the tools hanging off nails and boards, steel glimmering in the light. Sinks seemed to be unused, aprons and refrigerators sat in corners, and a scale polished and ready for use on the main table. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but this was only the first part. The secondary part of the morgue was something she wasn't ready for. The place where they shoved the bodies in those metal crates screwed on the wall, where tags hung from people's blue toes and made gross noises as gas began to be let out of their orifices. But Wilson would have mentioned bodies already dressed down on the slabs. The place was brand new, cleaned just for Kylan. There was no way there were already bodies taking up space on the cold tables.

Another shuffle caused her to nerves to spike, and again, she almost wanted to follow her better instincts and run back upstairs where someone could investigate for her. Hell, as much as she knew Wilson hated ghosts and anything spooky, she would feel better if he was standing behind her in case something bad happened. What would happen if a crazed raccoon bit her on the arm? Or worse, a crazy patient who escaped from the psych ward. All those tools were nice weapons if they needed to be, and Kylan certainly didn't like the idea of someone wielding them against her.

Kylan carefully pitter-pattered to the next light switch, hoping to whoever controlled the heavens to just be a few dead bodies rotting in the cold. Her fingers slid against the chilly tile, and her fingers slid against the plastic switch, she flipped it on.

Nothing.

Not a god damn thing.

She let out a deep breath Kylan wasn't aware she had been holding. Her chest hurt now. Like her heart had just pumped enough blood and adrenaline to run a ten mile marathon. Twice. She laughed at herself on how ridiculous she had been acting. She could only imagine how Wilson would look when she'd tell him the thoughts she had over some old piping or some bullshit like that. Just as she flicked the light back off, she turned, and collided with a mass of fabric.

"Jesus Christ!" She yelled, slamming into the man who scared the crap out of her.

His aftershave permeated her nose for a second, like spice, and she staggard back, trying to put as much distance as she could between the two of them. Which wasn't much, since she had hit the back of the autopsy table, moving it an inch or two causing a loud skid to cover the heavy breathing. Her hands leaned on the sides, and she tried to not to let her nerves get the better of her.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" She finally asked the moment she could break out a few words. The room was barely lit from the other room's light, but she could definitely tell it was a man from the way his shoulders were shaped, the clothing, the smell still stuck in her nostrils. "What the fuck are you doing here in the dark?"

She seemed more surprised than angry. Sure someone was sticking their nose in her new toys, but that didn't mean she cared enough to get a little angry. Maybe a signal or a word or two could have stopped her from wanting to rip off his balls for scaring her like that. Who in their right mind just snooped around a morgue touching things that didn't belong to them?

The light flickered back on, and the bright light caused her eyes to hurt from the sudden adjustment.

The man kept silent, moving past her with a clear and visual limp. For a second she thought she might have kneed him somewhere, but the looks of a cane resting on the cabinet counter across from her, she doubted she injured him. At least, not enough to cause anything like that.

"I sometimes kept pills down here, I'm guessing someone hid them or threw them away."  He finally said, and Kylan couldn't help but get a little irritated at his condescending tone.

"You kept pills in a morgue?" She spit.

"I'm sure you keep pills in cupboards too."

"Not in a morgue."

Kylan would have been freaked out on coming face-to-face with a man so suddenly, especially in the dark and in a room by herself. But she bet herself that if the time came, all she'd have to do was kick him in his bad leg and take off. No immediate amount of danger that screamed red at her, at least, from what she could tell.

He was a taller man, much older than her by ten years from the indication of his peppered hair, he seem withered in the face, wrinkles near his eyes, a much older demeanor overall in his appearance. His limp added to the age, but his clothing, loose and almost ill fitting, made Kylan second-guess herself.

"Who are you? How'd you even get access to the basement, you need a key-card." Kylan said matter-of-fact. her breathing steady finally, and now she wanted actual answers. She didn't doubt he was an actual doctor, but she would be damn well surprised if he was.

As if he thought it was a stupid question, he grabbed a plastic ID card much like hers from his jacket pocket, shoved it close to her nose, and pulled it away like three seconds staring at a white piece of glistening words would give Kylan all the information she needed. But she did get one thing.

A name.

Dr. Gregory House.

Well I'll be damned. She thought. This guy is a damn doctor.

[grim-faux]

4 - Committed to Survival

Rather fix the camera in its hoister now, I’d wait until I wasn’t around the water.  The path out of this place felt long and oppressive, the sharp smell of mildew at this point drilling a painful ache in my head.  I shut the mesh door behind me and trudged up the stairs to the first landing, where a tolerable light source awaited.

MKULTRA program, CIA document no. 190691, p. 1, excerpt  To: File  Subject: Hypnotic Experimentation and Research, Febuary 10, 1954  On Wednesday, 10 Febuary, 1954, hypnotic experimentation and research work was continued in Building 13 of the Mount Massive Preserve in Colorado using the following subjects.

  <material abridged> 

1. A posthypnotic of the night before (pointed finger, you will sleep) was enacted. Misses Jackson and Pierce immediately progressed to a deep hypnotic state with no further suggestion.  Miss Pierce was then instructed (having previously expressed a fear of firearms in any fashion) that she would use every method at her disposal to awaken miss Jackson (now in a deep hypnotic sleep), and failing this, she would pick up a nearby pistol and fire it at Miss Jackson. She was instructed that her rage would be so great that she would not hesitate to “kill” Jackson for failing to awaken. 

2. Miss Pierce carried out these suggestions to the letter including firing the (unloaded pneumatic pistol) gun at Jackson and then proceeding to fall into a deep sleep. After proper suggestions were made, both were awakened and expressed complete amnesia for the entire sequence. Miss Pierce was again handed the gun, which she refused (in an awakened state) to pick up or accept from the operator.  She expressed absolute denial that the foregoing sequence had happened.” In the least my little souvenir was interesting.  Hypnoses to cure fears, or force a person to perform a desired function.  I read files on this but the fancy didn’t strike me, people liked to read those sorts of articles but I wasn’t prime on reporting them. I left the file on the landing and made the ground floor.  I exhaled a breath of relief to see my surroundings unchanged, whether good or bad.  At least the big fucker had left most of the building intact.  I made my uneventful trek back to the Security room, I didn’t like the idea of a gaping hole behind me at this point, but I wasn’t about to prop that heavy metal door up with that little rolling chair. Call me lazy, I just wanted to get the doors open and put a fuck lot of distance between here, and the remnants of my healthy psyche.  I wasn’t going to be normal after this, alright? The terminal looked like it would still function, some of the monitors seemed to be spazing out from the abrupt shut down.  The main root, system controls, was up and ready to go. I managed to type in the first half of Security before someone crashed into me from behind, I didn’t even hear them enter.  I tried to push back and throw them off but they had braced a knee into the back of my leg, the edge of the terminal bit into my bruised thigh.  I already knew who it was even before he braced his arms over my chest, pain rippled up my side as he wrenched my head up.  Something metal flashed across my vision.  A needle! It was jammed into the base of my neck, my vision flashed as whatever the hypodermic was filled with drowned my senses.  He released me and I collapsed against the desk, my forehead started to tingle and I immediately worried over what was in that needle.  I leaned against my arms struggling to drag my failing strength back, but it was impossible.  The blue chair rolled over the clean portion of the floor as he nudged it aside, and moved close beside me.  I turned my head to watch his movement, his foul black robe swelled along my peripheral vision.  Getting hard to focus.  Felt like my legs were turning into jello. “I’m sorry, my son, I didn’t want to have to do this to you.”  He revealed the needle and grasped my hand.  “But you can’t leave, not yet.”  I jerked my hand away from his clammy grasp and brushed him off.  I tried to turn, push him away.  I want nothing to do with you.  Nothing!  Just let me Leave!   Without the support of the desk my legs gave out.  The Priest caught me under the arms and lowered me to my knees.  My shoulder pressed into the side of the metal desk as I stared up into his face.  He was bald, with wild eyes that frightened me.  “There is so much yet for you to witness.”   Oh god. “Will you see it?  Can you?”  With one arm latched to my side, he used the other hand to turn my head towards a gray video feed.  My thoughts were muddled, it was a room.  Camera looking down in a room, with a desk, wall with windows.  Bright windows.  Everything in that room was bright.  A symbol.  Rings on the floor.  Sharp ovals.  People in the room.  Holding guns.  Looked like MHS cops.  The guy I watched die.  I tried to get out…. “Our lord the Walrider, tearing His truth into the unbelievers.”  They were dying.  My eyes drooped but I fought to keep focus, what was killing them?  Dragging them off, throttling them, blood everywhere.  This place was turning red, full of blood.  Blood up to my knees, I was running from my shadow.  What did they see?  What was killing them?  What did he put into me? “The only way out of this place is the truth.”  My head rolled back to him.  The drugs made me weak and heavy, and I couldn’t care less for what he was saying.  The lights dimmed and I sank to my side.  His last words rang through my mind.   “Accept the gospel and all doors will open before you.” The dark. There was safety in the dark.  There was comfort in the dark.  The dark was the unknown.  The dark was all encompassing.  The dark was unmovable. Unless there was light.  That terrible light. I awoke once, enveloped in white, everything was bright and painful to bear.  By my side was a dark shape, the Priest.  I blinked and he was outside the door, it looked like he was speaking to a man with ants crawling on his face. Maybe it was a dream.  The road was very long, and it was already night.  It didn’t matter what time visiting hours ended, I planned to snoop around the grounds anyway and pick up whatever looked incriminating.  But I had to film something concrete, or my contacts would just scoff. When I arrived, the patients were wandering the front lawn in white shrouds.  Something without form was tearing through them, tossing their bodies like broken toys against the walls, muscle and lungs were tangled in the barbed wire.  Amidst them was Chris Walker, the other patients had bowed before him.  It didn’t look like he cared.  His face was splint back in a cruel grin, but his eyes were milky and dead. Once I had gotten away from the Asylum, I collapsed in the woods.  Everything hurt, my body was broken.  Death wasn’t the punishment anymore.  I didn’t have to worry about paying the bills, a boyfriend, my next job - nothing mattered.  The fight was over.  I curled up in the wet leaves and sank into a deep sleep, the dead of winter closed in, but not even the cold could reach me.  There was just the indiscriminate black that awaited at the end of it all. A soft groan escaped me as I roused, clearing the short rest from my stiff lungs.  I opened my eyes to view murky shapes, odd lines in the white walls.  The damn light was too bright, I turned my head and felt the dull pain in my neck reminding me of the previous events.  Everything felt muggy and pointless to my mind, but at least I was alone.    It felt like I had slept on the world’s hardest substance, the material crinkled nastily as I shifted.  Smelt like a retirement homes bad day, but at this point I didn’t give a damn.  Same scenario if you were drunk off your ass, you didn’t give a damn where you passed out.  I put a hand to my collar and brought it back.  No blood.  Probably bruised like hell, but otherwise fine.  My brain was still working out the crap that guy injected me with, should probably be the least of my worries.   For a while I lay on that stiff cot, staring at the walls until they came into focus.  Crosses and words scrawled everywhere.  Some of it in blood.  I took it this was His cell. I didn’t feel ready to resume my personal vendetta for freedom, but options were a luxury I feared I was now banned from.  Time was my worst enemy, and my chances of walking out alive dwindled the longer I wavered.  Either way, I didn’t want to be here when He returned. Slowly I sat up, making mental note of the injuries that had set into my body.  I coughed a bit of blood onto my sleeve, but that didn’t alarm me.  But I would check in to the hospital first chance I had.  A real hospital. Very considerate of the Priest to leave the camera, but he had reinforced his desires into me that I was to be his Apostle.  I flipped the visor open and raised it to the walls. “The priest, FATHER MARTIN brought me here to show me something. Thinks I’m going to be a witness for whatever batshit crazy he’s trying to sell me. This DR. WERNICKE is at the center of whatever went wrong here. But he died more than ten years ago. ‘Rest in Peace,’ says the blood on the wall.“ Fuck the story, when I get out of here I was going to write a New York Times best seller.  “How I Survived the Worst Tip in my Career.”  By Miles Upshur.  In your face, Oprah. The door had no visible lock or latch mechanism.  How did I get out?  Maybe if I pushed. That didn’t seem to work, but as I peered out of the small window a face shot into the lens of my camera startling me.  A click echoed, and the figure darted off.  Though the door was now wide open, I waited.  I had no idea what was out there, let alone where the hell I was NOW.  I hadn’t seen much before he unlocked the cell.  But the question I needed answered immediately, where was I in this god awful place?  Far from the safest exit, of course! Tentatively, I crept forward, but what was I going to do if someone decided to come in next?  I wasn’t hiding in here. This was better than Disney land.  I think every ghost hunter in the world would donate a kidney, just to spend a night in this place.  It was the main ward of the asylum, its heart, where all the crazies hung out.   Below, I saw a few of the frequents.  One man patrolling, smashing his skull into blood stained concrete with bone cracking force.  I winced with each impact. “Back!  Get back!”  To my right a man lunged at a segregation gate rattling at the bars, shrieking his lungs out.  “Get the fuck away from me!  Rrah!  Huh…don’t look at me.  Don’t you dare….” I whirled away from him, relying fully on the doors capacity to withstand his violence, even if fate did not favor me this hour.  I walked along the bland and gray wall, glancing down to the people on the lower floor.  Had they been this messed up before Murkoff got ahold of them?  They were using dream therapy to alter their higher cognitive functions of the mind, didn’t look like these people had that treatment.  Even if they had, I still wouldn’t be able to distinguish them from your typical lunatic. I shuddered to think if Murkoff had been trying to cure their mental deficiency in order to use them for further experimentation later on. The smell.  Like all the filthy alley ways and slums in every city in the world.  I could hardly breathe without gaging, filth was everywhere.  It was a miracle these people weren’t dead from contamination.  Or maybe it was some sort of curse.  This was no sort of life for a human. The window parallel to my face burst open and a hand shot out, grabbing for my head as I ducked.  I smashed against the rail and stared up as the arm continued to grope blindly for nothing, then withdrew.  The shock wore off quickly and I stood up to gaze on the face that met mine. Skin had been cut and moved, tacked down in cruel areas.  It looked like his right eyelid had been removed, the eye now a shriveled sack in the socket.  Despite his earlier ‘attack,’ I think I felt sorry for him. I was still glad his door was locked. The next door was open, but I could change that. “Said he shouldn’t hurt you,” a voiced hummed from within. Inside, opposite to a blood splashed corner, stood a man pawing at his face.  He too had been mutualized by some form of surgery, one eye stitched shut and his face scarred by malpractice.  “Is what he said.” I glanced around, then turned back to him and raised the camera.  “Father Martin?” “Our Father,” he corrected.  “Told him not to hurt you.  But when the cat’s away….Hmmmm….Mmmmm.” Everything in me screamed, slam that door now.  But I didn’t.  Quietly, I backed away and left him as he was.  If he was a danger, he was the least of my concerns.  Shutting the door might agitate him, and there were people on the floor below that seemed to not have noticed my presence yet. I slipped around the pillar of the next corner and walked towards the metal door on this side of the level. “Who’s this?” I stopped in my tracks and stared at the speaker, cloaked by shadow.  That was all they were cloaked by. “Maybe…Farther Martin’s man.” “Maybe.”  The first seemed excited by my presence.  My hair stood on end and I knew without a doubt, I should not be near them. The thick metal gate stood between us and presumably was locked, but I couldn’t make that gamble.  Even without the NV I could distinguish their lack of apparel, their shapes were tall and sinewy, and they appeared to be identical twins.  Splattered with blood. “He looks nervous.” “I would like to kill him.” I hid behind the pillar a little more. “As would I…”  His voice made the task sound tedious.  I really didn’t want to be here at this particular moment. “The preacher asked us not to.” “It would be impolite.” “Not here.” They paused. “We give him a running start?” “There’s an idea.” “And when we kill him, we kill him slow.” “Such patience.” I was done.  I was gone.  I was staggering down the steps searching for a way out of this mad house.  “I want his tongue.  And liver.” “They are yours.” Was there a way out?  Not from down here, the only route I could see had the camera shy freak and my new fan club.  They were giving me a running start.  What the FUCK did that mean?! “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  Said the man staring at a pillar.  I decided from this point on, for the safety of my psyche and my body parts I did NOT need to speak with ANYONE.  They could talk to me, I was not going to converse back. Someone darted from the group into an open door, and slammed it.  One less to worry over.  Two men still roamed, there was a third sitting in a wheelchair.  I didn’t trust anyone in a wheelchair anymore. The two rooms on either side of the stairs had nothing to offer, no tools or messages, or items of interest.  I had a fear of standing in the doorways, unless someone opened the door from the outside I could be locked in.  The man staring at his pillar, he had been the one to let me out in the first place.  I didn’t want to ask if there was a way out of this area. The Priest had brought me here, how the hell did he get out?  Unless, he was still here…. “Don’t trust them.”  I jerked away from the man in the wheelchair, I had given him his distance though it was doubtful he could do much.  His mutilation went beyond the laws of humanity, scars and broken flesh healed over.   I raised my camera and knelt down, but I refused to get too close.  “They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s not.  They were…waiting for us.  In this place.  Billy understood.  They’ve always been here.” I wanted to ask him about Billy.  About the experiments and the Walrider, and what he meant by ‘they.’  But I was frightened by what he might say.  If he said any more.  Uttering this information had seemed to exhaust him, and his head wilted to his shoulder.  Briefly, I wondered if he had fallen asleep or had he finally escaped this place. I shivered and stood.  A way out that involved my body and I escaping together, and in one piece.  That seemed like a naive dream. I didn’t bother with the door behind him, or the one after that.  Though, as I passed by a face appeared in the glass.  I stared, and ‘he’ stared back.  My mind was attempting to fathom how someone without a mouth could survive, unless there was a tube in his nose, but even his nostrils were compromised.  It looked like there was an opening in his throat, reminiscent to smokers that suffered cancer and had their larynx removed. This place was god awful.  I had to keep reminding myself that, the more I looked around, the more I felt.  Even for a clutch of crazy people, murderers, whatever.  I think the worst ones were the men and women that consciously decided they were going to mangle the part of them that wasn’t broken beyond function.  Then, crack their minds open and figure out to what extent they could fuck their thoughts up even more. I was between feeling terrible and feeling like bitter justice was served.  Everything was a whirling mess of gray with globs of black. One room I entered on the far side had a patient curled up on his cot, trembling.  I knelt down to film him through the nightvision feed, taking in the details of his misshapen face.  Many of the patients I had encountered thus far had scars or wounds of unknown origin, from experiments Murkoff was performing on them.  It was briefly mentioned in Chris Walker’s file, many of his injuries were self-inflicted, but the report indicated not all.  Were the patient’s the one mutilating their bodies, prior to Murkoff’s fall?  Not all of them shared these injuries, some appeared almost normal or unharmed.   It must have been a part of the process Murkoff was putting them through.  But what sort of process I couldn’t begin to imagine.  Some of the scars appeared almost like chemical burns in theory.  What sort of monster would give an order to maim humans? “Too many voices.  They followed me back.”  He stumbled into me as I swayed to get out of his way.  “No more sleep.”  He grabbed my collar and forced me aside, and then continued on toward a bloody spot on the wall without pause.  Wack. Smack! Crack! Clack! “They’re in my blood and they want to get out.  Can feel….” I continued to back away until I was a safe distance, concealed in shadows.  My back pressed against the cold wall and I slid down to sit. “We angered Him with our science.  He only wanted faith.” The voice sounded very close, but when I turned my camera to find him, he was a few feet away curled up tightly in a corner.  I sat there for what felt like a long time observing the habits of these people, lost in madness.  Eventually the man whom stared at pillar did move, at first leaning on his subject matter, then slipping down until he was on his side facing the cold concrete structure.  I turned my attention back to the man in wheelchair, but he had not yet moved since he spoke.  I wondered if he did indeed die.  It made no difference to me, not at this time, but I did feel a unique chill in my veins at the thought.  How many people have I watched die today? “Voices in my head follow me back!”  When the head banger made his third round, I decided it was time to find a way out. Without a word of farewell to the squatter, I crossed to the other side of the wall to doors that had not been examined.  I was beginning to despair, surrendering resolve to the idea of returning to the upper level, to the twins. It was very likely they would open the door only to murder me.  There was no place for me to run, or hide.  Especially with the two of them, they’d corner me with little effort if I tried.  My heart thudded against the stress, and that persistent pain in my chest.  I needed a doctor. A door I opened finally offered some promise, the back of the room was shattered revealing a crack into an open work space.  A shred of concern did remain in me to enter a room in which I could not open from the inside, but I didn’t give a damn at this point.  I squeezed through the gap and pulled up the nightvision, it sounded like someone was struggling. I wasn’t confident in facing the source, if I had someplace to run I might felt more assured.  Truth was safety was an illusion in Mount Massive, my only hope for survival was my capacity to elude danger.   There wasn’t much to see in the work hall, pipes for water, pipes for gas, I couldn’t tell which from the static green NV feed.  The noises were muffled but grew louder as I moved through the work space.  I didn’t like the sound of them.  Overhead the cement had been torn out, where the debris was removed to remained a mystery but it was a direction to take. I climbed onto a crate and made sure it was sturdy before leaping up to an overhead ledge.  For a span I was completely blind in the dark, the camera strap I stuck in my mouth rather the case so I could reach it quicker.  Once I had pulled myself onto the floor I knelt and took it up, looking immediately into the visor. A face covered in ants stared back. I gave a sharp yelp and toppled sideways, catching the jagged edge with my elbows before I fell through, my legs swung beneath me and I struggled not to drop the camera in my hand.  Groaning, I pulled myself back up and crawled away before checking once more. “Agh!  God damnit!  What the fuck is the matter with you?”  One of the patients had plastered himself against a wall and was fixing his shirt.  He wasn’t wearing pants.  On the floor across from him was a bloodied and decapitated body, nude, in a…suggestive position. “You weren’t invited to this, you god damned sicko.” Just….This place needed to go to hell.  Some of the people here did deserve what they got. “What, you like to watch?”  He pointed directly at me and reaffirmed his diagnosis.  “It’s sick.  You’re sick.” And thus my pledge, not to speak to any of these people, was solidified.  You couldn’t stage better propaganda. “Fuck this place. Seriously, just fuck this place. Dying keeps moving lower on the list of the worst things that could happen to me here.” I jogged down the hall, an otherwise good mood literally—No, no.  I needed to forget.  Positive thoughts, healthy thoughts.  I was terribly fucking lost, had no map, two naked men were admitted into my fan club, and dying was no longer top of the list of shitty ways to ruin this day. Or night.  I had no fucking idea. “Hey!  Hey!”  I stopped in an intersecting hall when someone called for me, and rattled a gate.  He was on the other side, which made me happy.  “You… Oh.  I….”  By the time I had my camera zoomed in he had already spun about and was running away.  The small event had me smirking despite everything, who did he think I was?  A friend? Lord give me strength, I was just mistaken for a loony.  And I thought it was funny.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Serendipity (Part 1/3)

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (but not the main focus)

Other Characters: Warlock Dowling

Description: Seven years after Armageddidn't, a boy wanders into A.Z. Fell and Co. and finds something more priceless than a first-edition novel- a reunion he (and his childhood caretakers) never thought possible.

Rating: G

Genre: General/Family/Mild Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432192/chapters/48473378

Part 1

Aziraphale raised his head from his book as the bell over the shop door jingled merrily. The angel carefully set the book and his glasses on a nearby table, standing up with a small sigh. Today had been blessedly quiet and he’d hoped that it would remain as such- this was only his third customer and it was already mid-afternoon. Still, he knew that if he let whoever had just walked in wander aimlessly, they might feel the urge to buy something; it was best to check on the visitor and see what their mission was before they tried anything rash.

“Hello!” Aziraphale said warmly, rounding the corner of an overstuffed bookshelf to find a boy examining a section of Italian poetry. The boy was in his late teens, with a lanky build just a smidge taller than Aziraphale. He wore dark jeans and a V-neck t-shirt bearing the logo of some pop band the angel would never understand. His hair, a cross between dirty blonde and light, light brown, was cut short, save for the unruly swathe of bangs that fell in front of his bright blue eyes.

“Hey,” the boy replied, pushing his bangs out of the way to get a better look at Aziraphale.

The angel blinked as he was hit with a wave of strange familiarity. A slight crease between his eyes was the only thing that alluded to this; otherwise, he kept himself composed. Aziraphale had seen so many humans over the years, he got the occasional twinge of feeling that he knew someone passing by in the street, but it always turned out to be a double of someone he’d met long ago. This boy, surely, was no different.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for, young man?” Aziraphale asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“No, I just… kinda wandered in to look around, honestly.” The boy laughed and Aziraphale couldn’t stop his smile from widening. The laugh, coupled with the boy’s American accent, triggered something deep within his memory, though he couldn’t quite reach it. “The Yelp reviews of this place are wild; I wanted to see what it’s like for myself.”

“Yelp reviews?” Aziraphale questioned, tilting his head. He’d heard of this before from some of the other customers. From what he gathered, Yelp was a platform where people could post reviews of places they’ve visited. Based on what Aziraphale had been told, his bookshop would be classified as having a “mixed rating.”

“Yeah, people have said all kinds of shi- er, stuff about this shop,” the boy replied, correcting his near-curse as he guiltily met Aziraphale’s gaze. Something told the boy that the shop owner wouldn’t appreciate that sort of language. Remembering a particularly interesting review, the boy’s face lit up. “Is it true there’s a giant snake in here?!”

“Ah, well… sometimes,” Aziraphale admitted, a bemused light in his eyes. “He tends to wander, though; he’s out at the moment.”

The boy’s face shifted into an expression of mingled confusion and curiosity. Aziraphale’s unneeded breath caught in his throat. The strange sensation pulsed in the back of the angel’s mind, the feeling that he definitely knew this boy. He wanted more information on his origins, but it wouldn’t do to push too hard, lest he scare the boy off- Aziraphale had been told on more than one occasion that he could be rather “ruthless” (according to a certain demon, though the phrase made the angel scrunch his nose up in disgust) when it came to gathering information he desperately wanted to know.

“We don’t usually get many visitors from out of the area; are you on holiday?” Aziraphale asked, busying himself with reorganizing a shelf of books that had been shifted out of alphabetical order. There had to be some connection- he’d probably met the boy’s family or long-distant relative on a trip to America many years ago.

“No, I’m going to college here- university, whatever you want to call it,” the boy replied with a shrug. “Well, I mean, I don’t have class today- I’m not skipping or anything.” Again, there was that guilty look, as if the boy was afraid of disappointing the man in front of him- which was odd, since the boy had certainly never met the elusive Mr. Fell before. “I’ve got a day off, so I figured I’d check out Soho. I never really got to just, like… explore England when I was a kid.”

The angel froze mid-task. His slowly turned, focusing on the boy’s face and really looking. Time seemed to fade before his eyes, the boy’s defined features softening into the lanky face of a pre-teen, then melting further into the chubby visage of a child with a smudge of dirt on his cheek from where he’d rubbed his face while planting flowers-

“You okay, Mr. Fell?” the boy asked, noting the slight tremor in Aziraphale’s hands. The angel blinked, quickly composing himself.

“Yes, I-I’m fine, young W-… dear boy.” Aziraphale caught himself as his voice slipped into an accent he hadn’t used for over seven years. He shook his head; there was absolutely no way this could be the same child whose bruises he’d healed with a loving kiss and a touch of divine miracle.

“…Okay.” The boy didn’t sound convinced but decided to let the matter drop. He’d heard that the owner of the bookshop was eccentric and figured that the hyper-focused attention he was receiving was part of the package. Although, the boy had to admit that, just for a second, the man had sounded terribly familiar.

An awkward silence followed, neither of the two knowing how to continue the conversation. Aziraphale’s mind was racing, trying to figure out if this really was the boy from his memory and, if this was true, why in the world he had chosen to visit the bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley had a discussion many years ago about whether they should try to reconnect with Warlock Dowling and had concluded that they’d already interfered in the boy’s life enough. His personality had seemed fairly balanced when they’d left, save for a tendency to be extremely blunt when speaking his mind. They had no idea what they'd really done to the poor mortal boy’s psyche and decided it best to leave him be and hope that he grew up as normal as he could from his eleventh birthday onward.

So, Crowley and Aziraphale stayed far away from the Dowlings for nearly a decade. They were so strong in their conviction of never going to see Warlock again that they hadn’t even entertained the possibility that the boy might find them.

No, it’s too much of a coincidence, Aziraphale thought, watching the teenager as he started looking through the poetry books in front of him. The angel glanced towards the ceiling, his lips pursed. Unless this is another part of Your ineffable plan…

“Hey, Mr. Fell?” The boy’s questioning tone brought Aziraphale back to Earth instantly. “I know you don’t, like… actually like to sell stuff, so the internet says, but maybe you could help me find a book for my mom’s birthday? I honestly don’t think she’d notice if I bought her a first edition Shakespeare collection or whatever, but… I dunno.” The boy shrugged. “I thought I could try something different and see what she thinks.”

The look in the boy’s eyes is what ultimately convinced the angel that his instinct was true. Aziraphale had seen that look much too often for his liking- it was a look of sad resignation that Warlock's parents, ever-distant and too wrapped up in the political world to raise their own child, didn’t care about him nearly as much as they should. A twinge of ice shot through the angel’s heart. He’d hated seeing that expression on a child’s face, but he utterly despised it now, knowing that things didn’t seem to have changed nearly a decade later.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” the boy asked, seeing Aziraphale’s face slip into a strange expression. “You look-” He was about to say “weird,” but it was at that exact moment that the nagging familiarity that had also been gnawing away at his own mind came to the surface. He saw the face in front of him sporting a shining collection of bad teeth framed within a cloud of fluffy hair, though the mental image was skewed as if he had to look up from a much shorter height than he was now.

But, as with Aziraphale’s own recognition, it was the eyes that ultimately broke through the fog of childhood memories- the eyes currently gazing at Warlock full of more love than anyone should be able to comprehend. Without warning, Warlock felt tears prick at the edges of his vision.

“…Brother Francis?” he choked out in a small voice. Aziraphale smiled, and if Warlock had any remaining doubts about the man's identity, they were blown away like the shadows of night banished by the rising sun.

“Oh, my dear, dear boy,” Aziraphale said warmly, opening his arms, and Warlock fell into the hug without hesitation. They gripped each other tightly, and the angel realized what a fool he’d been for leaving the boy without a word. He and Crowley should have gone back after the apocalypse was thwarted, or at the very least written a letter explaining why they’d left; judging by the way Warlock held onto Aziraphale as if he were a lifeboat in the midst of a stormy sea, the angel realized that the boy must have missed them just as much as they’d missed him.

Aziraphale and Warlock stayed in the embrace for a while longer, and then the boy gently, almost reluctantly, unwrapped his arms and took a step back to give Aziraphale a proper once-over.

“What happened to you?!” Warlock asked, astonishment dripping from every word. Then, suddenly, a fierce frown twisted his face. “And why the hell did you and Nanny leave without saying anything?! Er, sorry, I mean why the heaven- ugh, you get my point!”

Aziraphale smiled again; this was the boy he used to know, attitude and all. Warlock always had a penchant for speaking his mind, a fact that was encouraged wholeheartedly by his Nanny. While Aziraphale didn’t want Warlock to stop expressing his feelings and asking questions either, he had been bothered by the boy’s increasing vocabulary of unsavory expressions, which the angel had tried to remedy by correcting him with more docile phrasing. Apparently, the instinct to do so still was still present.

“Hellooo?” Warlock said, waving a hand in front of Aziraphale’s face. “Brother Francis- Mr. Fell… whoever you are! This is really weird, and I need you to explain a lot of things!”  

“Oh, I do apologize, my dear; I get a bit lost in my thoughts, sometimes,” Aziraphale admitted with a guilty chuckle. He hesitated for a second and then gestured towards the back of the shop, where a comfortable couch and coffee table resided. “Yes, we… we really should have a little chat. Please, have a seat and I’ll put on a pot of tea and join you.”

Warlock didn’t move, instead narrowing his eyes. Aziraphale blinked at him.

“…Would you prefer coffee instead?” the angel ventured. Warlock rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of him, slouching to the side in a pose uncannily similar to someone else Aziraphale knew.

“You literally just up and left me when I was eleven years old,” the boy explained, a scathing bite to his words that made Aziraphale wince. “According to the internet, you’re some weird cryptid- which I can now confirm, knowing who you really are, because you and Nanny were definitely not normal. How do I know you won’t just-”

And here the boy cut himself off, realizing how vulnerable finishing that sentence would make him seem. He knew that Brother Francis had seen all sides of him, weak ones and all, but that was many years ago. He’d still been a kid then; now he was older and much more practiced at hiding his true emotions, since the only people who’d had time for them disappeared after his eleventh birthday. Just because he’d found his beloved gardener and confidant again through some divine- or hellish, he never knew which to believe- turn of events, it didn’t mean that things would instantly go back to the way they were before.

Warlock didn’t think it was possible for Brother Francis’ expression to soften even more, but apparently it could. Slowly, as if afraid of spooking him, the angel reached out and gently brushed Warlock’s bangs out of his face, tucking them behind his ear before cupping the boy’s cheek in his hand.

“I’m not going to leave you again, dear boy, please believe that,” Aziraphale said, injecting as much truth into his words as he possibly could. “It was a rash decision and your Nanny and I should never have disappeared without a word. I’m just going to flip the Closed sign on the door and put the kettle on, and then we can talk, alright?”

Warlock nodded almost imperceptibly, but Aziraphale saw the gesture. He gave the boy’s cheek a light pinch and winked, earning a cry of embarrassment. With a laugh, the angel disappeared around a bookshelf, moving towards the front door. Rubbing his cheek and pouting, Warlock shuffled to the couch in the back of the shop. He’d forgotten how endearingly annoying his old gardener could be.

Aziraphale flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed” and leaned back against the old wooden door, shutting his eyes. He was overjoyed to see Warlock again, certainly, but he was completely unprepared for this situation. What was he supposed to tell the boy? What excuse could he possibly give for Warlock’s closest companions abandoning him without so much as a “goodbye?”

Aziraphale and Crowley always regretted the way they’d handled that situation, but they had bigger concerns at the time- namely, the impending apocalypse and the fact that Warlock was not the antichrist they thought he was. Aziraphale grimaced, running a stressed hand through his hair; what should they tell Warlock about that? Should they expose him to the supernatural world he’d unintentionally been apart of for the first half of his life?

“…Probably best not to bring that part up,” the angel murmured to himself. He adjusted his waistcoat and steeled himself for the afternoon ahead. He would make Warlock a nice cup of tea, call Crowley to give him a warning on who awaited him back at the bookshop, and then bide his time until the demon showed up and they could have a proper conversation about what to do now that the boy was back in their lives. Yes, that seemed like a perfectly reasonable plan.

So, of course, it was guaranteed that things would not turn out the way Aziraphale hoped. As the angel busied himself in the tiny kitchenette area in the back of the shop, the bell over the front door rang again.

“Angel!” a voice called, and Aziraphale let out a strangled yelp. He rushed out of the back room and was greeted with the sight of Warlock, standing by the couch slack-jawed and staring straight ahead. Trapped at the end of Warlock’s gaze stood Crowley, wearing an eerily similar expression of shock. The two of them gazed at each other questioningly for an agonizing few seconds, before Warlock asked, in a trembling voice:

“N… Nanny Ash?”

“…Ah,” Aziraphale said when Crowley turned his helpless expression upon him. Though the demon’s eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, Aziraphale knew they were giving him a look of utter confusion. “Crowley, we… we have a very special visitor.”

“Ngk,” the demon replied.

And then, suddenly, Warlock was in Crowley’s arms, holding him tight, and Crowley returned the gesture without a second thought, overwhelmed with a great sense of relief. The boy was shaking, obviously trying very hard not to cry, and the demon instinctively gripped him closer and grinned into his hair.

“Hey, little hellspawn. Good to see you again.”

                                                             ***

Read Part 1. (You are here.)

Read Part 2. 

Read Part 3.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-Three

That vile man stood hunched over, then laughed up a storm before once again standing up straight.

“What a bold declaration, but from you, it rings hollow. You don’t truly believe anyone is innocent, do you, Etna?”

“What?! You really are Miss CEO?! I thought you were Versailles!”

I turned my head to the side. “I would rather die than become a CEO. There are some evils that I won’t stoop to.”

“Indeed, miss Juniper. Your friend here died to become the entity known as Dr. Etna. So did you.” He laughed again. “And now that the two of you are here once more, Dr. Etna can be born anew! Hopefully this time, she’ll be more obedient.”

“Funny. This is my first time seeing you,” I ignored his own threatening declarations.

“Even if you didn’t count the multiple versions of you that I’ve crossed paths with, that simply isn’t true.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t ring any bells.”

“Not surprising,” he chuckled. “Your lapses in memory, after all. Not to mention that you only ever encountered me once throughout each incarnation. I was never a part of the ETNA project; I was only an observer. I belonged to the Militia Department, a group which oversaw each war throughout history. Rather rotten work, though, wouldn’t you agree? The Militia Department was pretty much the Department of War, but then we also have a Peace Department. This whole company is a floating contradiction!”

“Ah, but the thing I love most about here is the fact that you can see entire lifetimes pass with little time at all passing here. I observed the ETNA project in its very beginning. Quite a fascinating thing, but just as you must have heard, an utter failure. None of the children could handle the power of the angel. As for your father,” his lips spread to a wider smile, his voice grew more raspy. “When he was ordered to include his own daughter into the project, he did not refuse. But rather than dispose of you in the end like all the other failed experiments, he took you and ran off. He tried to change his identity.”

I shook. He must have been trying to rile me up, in order for me to lower my guard. I had to look past his words, not let them stick to me.

“Look at you!” He spread his arms out. “How much you’ve grown! He created his own device to travel through time under the guise that it was the first. He failed to realize that he never did send in his resignation letter! He was Flashbulb property, just like the device he created was, and just like you are!”

“Enough!” I shouted. “None of that matters to me anymore!”

He shrugged. “Oh, I know. I was just reminiscing. As for when we met proper, you were young, but just a few years into adulthood. We had captured you, but you managed to escape once again. It must have been over a dozen times that we enacted our fleeting encounter, but it never gets old to me. Rather, it’s like rehearsing for a play. Each time, I get to deliver my line with just a little more passion. I, Dr. Lamington, and you, the girl who would forsake every identity if it meant getting to live another day.”

He walked over to me, slow strides. I stood froze, even in my more loathsome state, I was the one horrified. The memory resurfaced.

“Ah, those eyes. Is it time to repeat my timeless line?”

He extended his arm to his side and the metal rod flew back to him.

“Electromagnetism?!” Juniper was in awe.

“Magnets, or magic? Miracles, really. I admit, I don’t know how it works, myself.”

“I remember,” I found myself speak up.

“Tell me, how many identities will you cast aside in order to keep this up?”

“I’ll forsake every part of me if I have to if it means I can stay alive,” I followed up, the words passionless. As if recited from a script.

“Bravo!”

“Verse! Watch out!” Her voice came into my head.

I saw the swing of the metal rod and caught it in my left hand. Steam seeped out from my palm and bent the rod; it snapped in his hand, and once again, I yanked it away. Then, I swiped at his cheek with my other hand. Blood trickled down from the claw marks on his cheek, and he held his hand over the wound, but rather than cry out in pain, he laughed.

“Look at you! How much you’ve grown! You really did cast everything aside, even yourself!”

“Yes,” I gave a short nod. “I threw so much away in order to protect myself. Now, I no longer care about keeping myself alive, so long as I can protect another.”

“Again! Another bold declaration! How wonderful! How noble of you!”

“You can’t be serious, can you? You need to live!” Juniper cried out from behind you.

I shook my head. “No. You need to live. I may wither here, but I will not allow you to be harmed. Go now. Leave this room.”

I saw her get up and run out the door from the corner of my eye. He did not prevent her escape. He remained fixated on me.

“Whether it’s her, both of you, or just you, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right: it doesn’t matter. Because you won’t get the chance to take either of us.”

“How can you hold yourself to that when you’re withering away?”

It was true: my body was growing weaker even as the part of me which held the entity persisted. I wasn’t like Blanc; I wasn’t meant to hold this all in.

“I’ll tear you limb from limb before I disappear completely,” I assured him. He laughed at that remark.

“Yes, you’ve become quite bloodthirsty in your transformed state.”

“You have no idea,” my lips spread to form a smile, the fangs of my teeth stuck out and blood dripped down from my mouth. I wiped my mouth, then I pounced on him. He had little time to react; he tried to grab the metal rod, but I tore his hand right off. “Aah!” He yelped, but his reaction was rather short, and he went right back to hysterics. “That’s right! I heard how you made quick of our top mercenaries! I see now! But even with them gone, we could just hire more and more! Even in the state you’re in, you would always be pursued!”

I sliced his other hand clean off. I let out a sigh of pleasure.

“That’s why I came here,” I crooned. “So I could be the pursuer instead.”

I began to laugh. “Didn’t I make good on my word?”

Rather than show any hint of being in pain, he continued to smile as well. “That you did. But you still made a mistake.”

“Oh?”

“I never needed my hands. I just needed to keep you still.”

I got up off of him, fear rose in me as I backed away. He too got up.

He bumped into the generator, and to the side, I noticed a button. Above me, a machine with a needle-like funnel with a laser attached descended and was aimed right at me.

“All I need to do is give the order and your life will vanish! To think, you came right to me, and once again, fell to the same fate! It’s so wonderful! Don’t worry, though! Your life will start anew, as Dr. Etna once more, and this time I will make sure –”

“You talk too much,” I heard the voice of someone behind him say.

He fell over.

I watched as the one who stood behind him was none other than Juniper.

“I thought I told you to leave!” I cried out.

“Yeah, I did. But I could still hear everything from outside. It wasn’t like I could just leave you with that guy.”

“You shouldn’t be here!” I shouted. “You should be somewhere safe!”

“Oh, sure. That’s the thanks I get for saving your life.”

“Why?” I looked away. I didn’t want to face her looking the way I did.

“I told you already, didn’t I? People care about you. You shouldn’t do something so stupid like throw yourself away. I don’t care what you look like, you’re still the same person,” then I heard her whisper. “In fact, that monster form is kind of hot…”

Birds of a feather.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“No problem! Anyway, I’m gonna go. This room isn’t all that interesting to me.”

I looked at her as she left. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I get it,” she said before we parted ways. “You’ve got some weird crush on me, but look, you’re a married woman, and you gotta respect that.”

What?!

I looked down and smiled. Even as the way I was, I couldn’t help but nod along. “Yeah. You’re right.”

As she left, I looked over to the unconscious Dr. Lamington. I had little strength in me, but I already found myself reverting to a more human appearance. I dragged his body against the wall and conjured up some rope, then tied him up.

I sat in the corner of the room and waited for him to wake up. He loved a good show, so I would allow him to remain alive, as an audience.

“I’m sorry, Velvet,” I shook my head and smiled. “I’m going to do just what I intended to. Even after meeting up with you and the others, I’m still going to go through with it.” I shook my head again. “I really wanted to protect you all, but I’m going to have to lower that shield now that I am alone once again.”

Maybe I too loved to run my mouth. Or maybe it was just the state I was in. The delirium. The anxiety of what I would soon carry out.

Dr. Lamington woke up not a moment later. His affable and cordial act was replaced by a panic at his situation.

“You’re still here?”

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

“Untie me! You’re better than this!”

“I have nothing but contempt for you all. For years, I wished for nothing more but to kill every last person who wronged me. But I never quite did that. So you’re right. Even as for the ones I did kill, it was either in an altered state, or accidental.”

“Do you think that absolves you of your actions?” He cried out. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to psych me out.

“On the contrary,” I got up. “You wanted to see Etna, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

I pulled out a USB drive. “I must warn you: I’m not very good with computers.”

“Whatever you’re about to do, please reconsider!”

“Hmm...no.”

“I can tell you what happened to your father!” He grew desperate.

“You can, can you?”

“Yes!”

“That’s too bad. I’m no longer interested in such a thing.”

He begged and pleaded, but the words were drowned out. It took a few tries, but I got it in. Then, I turned on the computer. In an instant, the monitor lit up. I dragged the cursor over to the program on the drive, then clicked.

What a pitiful state I was in. To think it was no illusion, but instead an insult added to injury. We were in my laboratory, far into the labyrinth underneath the city. All of which was in ruin, as was I.

It would take a good deal of time for me to recover. In the meantime, she sat on the floor, while I, connected to wires, waiting to be fully recharged.

“What did you mean when you said ‘let’s work together’?” I asked.

“You of all people shouldn’t be wondering such a thing.”

How wonderful. Her voice was so devoid of emotion. I wanted to weep tears of joy upon seeing her driven so low by despair, but I could do no such thing in my weakened state.

“You believe you can make a deal with me.” Make no mistake; that wasn’t a question. That was a statement.

“Neither of us are satisfied with our current situations,” she replied. The whole time, she never looked my way. Not that I could blame her. She already told me she despised me, as she should.

“To make a deal with me is to make a deal with the devil.”

“I know. But as I said, there may be no place of comfort for me. I’m finding that I am the same devil as you.”

The last time I saw her, she was in denial of such a thing. I think I preferred it that way. Any other time, I would revel in her despair, but at the moment, I was dealing with my own hopelessness. To think that mad half-Beige could drive me to such a state, besting me at my own game, with half the wit. It disgusted me.

“Since when did you wear your hair braided?”

She didn’t turn to me. “It was something I thought would make me happy. But not even an angel’s blood can bring me joy.”

“I see. It looks ridiculous.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Even if I couldn’t fully enjoy it, I wanted to crush that faint bit of hope that I sensed she still possessed.

“I want to meet up with someone. I think you already knew who.”

“Yes. The brat who made you who you are.”

“If you never meddled with this world, they never would have been the way they are.”

“That’s only true for a previous incarnation of me. The one of this world died not long ago.”

“Pity. I would have liked to have met them.”

“They died in Area 51, in fact, trying to save a friend. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Saving someone you care about often results in the death of another.”

Unfazed. I couldn’t believe it.

“Would you like to know what became of the Juniper and Trent of this world?”

“Only so much as to know whether or not they ever met a version of me.”

“They didn’t. The ‘you’ of this world grew to be old, with a normal life, and died in her 60s.”

“Good for her.”

“As for those two, they also died. Trent worked himself to death attending to too many patients, and Juniper was crushed under her many inventions. Both related to the pandemic, in some way or another.” That was a lie. They were still alive, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Maybe it’s better that way. This world is dying. I think it would be less painful for them to die sooner rather than later.

“She was a deadbeat and he lacked ambition.”

“That doesn’t matter to me. I still cared about them and they cared about me. I just didn’t deserve it.”

“Indeed, you didn’t.”

She scoffed. “You sound like my mother.”

“If anything, you would be my mother, since I was made in your image.”

She made gagging noises. “That’s the most disturbing thing you said.”

Out of all the things. Such a simple joke.

“The reason it won’t work is because I’ve already brought myself into despair. You’re just upset because you didn’t get to take credit,” she added.

That struck me. It shouldn’t have, but it did.

“Tell me what your proposal is already.”

“I want to be rid of this. To be human again.”

I laughed my robotic laugh. Ha. Ha. Ha.

“Do you believe that I can do that for you?”

“I figured you were the only one I could turn to.”

“You are correct. I can remove it from you. In turn, it would be absorbed into me.”

“So you would become more powerful. Win-win.”

“Yes. But there is something else I would like you to do.”

“What?”

“I want you to take this,” I reached my arm out. She walked over and took it.

“A flash drive?”

“Call it what you want. It stores a copy of me within it.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“The Flashbulb has excluded me from returning to their headquarters. I want you to go there and upload the copy of me to one of their terminals. Once this planet is no more, I too will disappear, but I do not wish to die here.”

“I want nothing more to do with that place.”

“I understand that, which is why I think you will be pleased to know that once I am present there, I will kill every last inhabitant and reduce The Flashbulb to ashes. Of course, you will be spared, and free to leave.”

“Do what you want. My hatred for that organization runs deep.”

“Yes, and I always wanted to experience firsthand what vengeance feels like.”

“I’ll do it. I don’t care for anything else anymore expect being human again.”

She began to walk away. I would leave her to her own devices, but first, I had to warn her.

“If you try anything, I will know.” I didn’t even know if my threat reached her, but I couldn’t allow myself to not have power over someone.

She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I would try.”

I watched as she disappeared. All the best, my strength was returning to me. I too, had to be off, to attend to my other toy back in Nevada. Her struggle would be quite the delight.

I backed away from the computer terminal. Soon, she appeared in front of me, as if I was looking into a mirror.

“What have you done?!” He shouted. “She’s a monster with no respect for humanity! I wanted to create a new version who was more obedient! This one enjoys the suffering of others! She could never be good for humanity!”

Dr. Etna looked to her side where Dr. Lamington was.

“You talk too much,” her hollow and mechanical voice carried more menace than I thought she was capable.

That’s the same thing Juniper said to him. To think that this being’s personality could be a combination of both of us when she’s much more cruel than either of us. I know I made a mistake, but maybe I could at least persuade her to not kill Velvet and the others.

Shadowed limbs, much like thorny vines or tentacles, shot from out of her palm and tore through Dr. Lamington. I tried to look away, but even doing so, his screams rang through my ears and pierced through my mind. In an instant, he had become no more, and in his place was a mangled mess with blood and chunks of flesh stuck to the floor and walls.

His sick laughter paled in comparison to hers. Low and husky, she turned to me and crooned.

“It seems he caused you some trouble,” it sounded like she was toying with me. “Funny. It was no trouble at all for me.”

“Doctor,” was all I could manage to say. Where had my confidence gone?

“Professor,” she corrected. “I always preferred that title, myself.”

She moved about the room and I watched as she took note of her surroundings.

“I would have preferred if I had returned to my laboratory, but this will suffice,” it seemed like she had forgotten I was still in the room, until she made her way back to me. “Not to worry, dear, I have not forgotten our deal.”

I shuddered, but I regained composure. What did I have to fear? She was me, and I, her.

“I just have one more request before you strip me of my power.”

“’Strip you’? My, I didn’t think you brought me here just for that,” she teased.

“Shut it,” I growled. “I came here with a group of people. All I ask is that you bring no harm to them.”

“Oh my. Don’t get greedy, now.”

I took a step back. Even though I had made such a mistake, I didn’t want Velvet or the others to suffer for it. Especially not Juniper…

“Relax. I am nothing if not merciful. Let me see…” She held up her hand and began counting on her fingers. “That second-rate hacker, two living mistakes, and your distant bride. Four in total. Five, if counting you, but counting you feels a little redundant.”

“How do you know who I came with?” Could she read my thoughts? No. I didn’t see how. I may have sunk so low as to work with her, but she did not possess me.

“I watched you back on Earth before you left. Funny that you would still choose to fulfill our deal even considering who you chose to bring along. You must really be that desperate that you don’t care who dies if it means you can be rid of your ‘gift’.”

“It’s not like that! I just thought –”

“That I would obey your every whim? That I could play the role of your maid servant? Should I call you Madame?” She gave a short and false sounding laugh. “The way your mind works sure is something.”

“Just hurry up and take this from me. I’m afraid of myself and everything around me. I understand now that no matter what I try, I will never experience true happiness.”

She pushed her glasses up, then closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Dearie me, I may find myself a little sympathetic toward you. Your naivete is astounding. Try to think of the implications of your request. Do you really wish to proceed with this?”

I couldn’t tell whether she was being sincere or not. It all sounded like a great, big tease, which was all too typical of her. Why would she want to warn me of anything?

“Of course! More than anything! I wish to end this life as a demon!”

She scowled. “I think I preferred when you acted more devilish. You may find yourself eating such words.”

“I don’t care what you say! Just let me end this life so I can feel human again!”

“Very well,” she sighed. I closed my eyes and waited. I expected to feel something different, a change, but instead, I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes.

“Nothing happened,” I told her. Then it hit me.

My insides felt like they were twisting up, my head felt as if it had grown ten times heavier, and my legs gave out. I fell to the floor. The whole room around me turned to an oppressive feeling and while I clutched my stomach, it was as if gravity had increased and weighed exclusively on me.

“What...did you do to me?” I gasped out the words.

“I did exactly as you requested. You have no one but yourself to blame for this.”

Tears began to form from underneath my eyelids as I felt as if my face itself contorted. But no, that couldn’t be it. Something stirred in me. It was as if I was being cut open in every direction, an invisible force stabbing into me, causing ceaseless pain. I cried out, but I couldn’t even tell if I had made a sound. The weight continued to pull me down.

“What is happening to me?” I shouted, the tears pushed their way out and I couldn’t stop them. It was much more than a trickle, it was like an endless barrage of hail. “I never wanted to feel this way!”

“I know,” I heard her speak. I couldn’t even see very well anymore. My glasses fell off my face, having gotten fogged up anyway. My face was against the floor, and in my mind, I begged and pleaded for it all to end. It was all. Too. Much. “I even tried to warn you against it. Albeit, last minute, but still. I gave you the option to back out.”

“Am I dying?” I struggled to get the words out. Spoken through sobs, my voice drowned out.

“No. You only feel like you are.”

“WHY?!” I shouted through the tears, my voice grown hoarse. Weak. Like a child. I didn’t even know who I was anymore, or who I was becoming.

“You’re experiencing for the first time what it would have been like had you not been born with Euphoria in you. She really is a guardian angel, you know.” It sounded like she was so far away, and musing to herself only, but I could tell she was still next to me. “You weren’t a failed experiment. Rather, it was because of her influence that you were able to get as far as you were.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“Your anger and passion when you were younger. You felt that way because it made you happy to feel so strong and defend yourself. When you were being pursued, you were always able to evade or escape capture, not because of your inherent abilities, but because being free would have made you happier. Living to fight, that brought you considerable joy. Though you may have thought yourself aloof, you were elated to be free.”

“But my father! The way my mother treated me! The fact that I was pursued in the first place! Losing my childhood girlfriend! Knowing that I would be doomed to become you! Losing my wife! Feeling like I could never be at peace! How can you say that I’ve always lived my life with this thing being a part of me when so much has gone wrong in my life?”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? You got more of what you wanted than you realize: you must have thought at some point ‘I wish he would disappear’. That angel couldn’t dictate how your parents would treat you, but you were able to break free of your mother not long after your father disappeared. You wanted something to fight for, and thus, an enemy appeared. You broke free from Anais because you felt you would have a higher chance of survival if you were alone.”

“The only reason I exist is because at one point you were manipulated into believing the pros of my existence would outweigh the cons. You don’t remember this because it never happened to you that way, but it only took once for me to be born. After that, all your pursuers had to do was tell you that your fate to become me was inevitable.”

She went on, as if obligated to answer my every question.

“The fact that you found someone in the first place is because you desired security. You even said so, yourself. But that doesn’t mean you never loved her. Rather, you always desired a calming presence, a place to call home. Many people do. You are not unique in that regard. If by ‘losing her’ you’re referring to both of you dying to become me, again, you were manipulated and it only took once for the cycle to fall into place. I admit, my existence is a perversion. You shouldn’t consider me either of you two, nor a combination. I am the way I am because of the intentions in which I was created, after which, I developed into who I am now. You could say I am closer to that of that man I disposed of, or the overseers of the ETNA project.”

“In truth, I despise those who are like me. I prefer to drive people to the brink of despair, then have them reach the conclusion to live out their lives because there is no other option. Watching as they fall into a routine and accept their miserable existences because they’ve reached such a low point. That is delicious. But to see someone like me, that disgusts me. I admit, it was amusing to watch you think you were anything like me, but it grew tiresome.”

I shook. Fear? Dread? No. Something greater.

“Or, if by ‘losing her’, you mean only recently, after receiving the power that you thought you so desired, that was your choice. Knowing her, she would have stayed by your side, had you let her. To your last point, you could have always been at peace, had you known what would have truly made you happy.”

The tears continued to escape from within me. They wouldn’t stop. It was all so heavy, and brought with it so much pain.

“But I hurt her! I hurt so many people! I’ve done cruel things! I also manipulated others! I…” I huffed, my breaths felt like they were leaving from me as well. I didn’t deserve to breathe. I knew it already. “I took the form of a demon! I never felt like I could be happy!”

She sighed. “I never said the things you wanted were things that were right for you. Your appearance altered the way you did, because you already felt that about yourself. Your physical state was just reflecting how you thought you should be. Not just because you thought worse of yourself than you truly were, but because you desired to express yourself more freely. For years, you thought it was best for yourself to repress your emotions, to subdue them. Because you thought that doing so would be best for your overall happiness. I could tell that when we spoke upon your initial transformation that you would become more unstable. Why, you may ask? Because you were beginning to experience a wider range of emotions than just anger and it confused you.”

“I wish I could have known! I wish I didn’t have to learn this way! I didn’t want to go through all that!”

“I know. But it is too late to make wishes and expect them to be granted. The angel is gone from you now and what you are feeling is all the pain you kept down. Years and years of emotions you would have felt had you allowed yourself. Not to say I blame you, given everything you had to endure, the conclusion you came to was only natural. So many people have felt the same under less circumstances. ‘If I could only turn my emotions off’. Well, aren’t you a lucky girl? Now that that filter is gone, it’s all coming out at once.”

I slammed my fists against the floor, but I felt like my hands would fall off. It was too much, I was falling apart. I was normal, I was human, but I never got to experience these things before and it fucking hurt. The worst part of all of it was, as cruel as she was, as much of a propensity she had to lie, this time, I knew she was telling the truth.

It’s always been so wrong. Everything. My very existence. I should have never wanted any of those things. I was afraid. Much of my life. Afraid of my parents, afraid of my peers, afraid of society. So I tried to fight back. I lashed out at others. I was so afraid of becoming powerless, of being enslaved to something beyond my control. So I propped myself up. Tried to stand as tall as I was. But I was always stumbling, often hunched down. It was often too much to bear, and I held it in anyway.

All that grief. I held it in all so I could continue on. Did I deserve to continue on? Did I deserve to live in a world where I felt like I had to hurt others to protect myself? Or to protect them? Did they deserve any of that?

For so long I thought that the reason I held my emotions back was because deep down, I was someone who got off on the pain of others. But that wasn’t it. I myself was in pain, and in turn, I thought the world should have been as well. That wasn’t right, either. Because in truth, I only wanted my life to be full of peace. A life full of love. Instead, I thought I could settle on security. But I was always insecure, even then.

Even now. I cannot stop myself from letting it out anymore. I don’t want to. But I deserve to, don’t I? To feel the full force of the pain throughout my life. I deserve to die along with my emotions.

“Please…” My voice hoarse, a near croak. “Kill me.”

“Normally, I would oblige, but I prefer it this way.”

Right. That was how she was. To watch me suffer. That was what brought her joy.

“How can I live with all that I’ve done? I brought you with me! It all hurts! I don’t deserve to live!”

“That’s not for me to say. Stay here and die, if that’s what you want. But the two of us are no longer one.”

“I feel so weak,” my words couldn’t even register as a whisper. They were so hoarse and broken.

“Yes. That’s how you have always been: Not a killer, not a demon, not someone so cruel. Just a weak, scared, little girl.”

“...Please…” I reached beside me. I reached out. “Let me feel you one last time.”

“Very well. After, I leave you so I may slaughter every living soul in this headquarters. You made a mistake bringing me here. I hope you know that.”

Even still, she extended her hand. I was so blinded, so weakened. But just to experience her in her physical form. I took her hand, picked myself up, then sent her my goodbye.

By driving the metal rod through her chest.

“You...made a mistake...by taking on a physical form.”

I could see a little more clear. Red. Blood running down her lab coat. I wondered if that too, was artificial. Rather than be in any kind of shock, she spoke with her same monotone.

“Right through the heart. I didn’t even know I had such a thing.”

My balance was off. I took a couple steps away, then fell back once more. I knew it. I was too weak to even stand.

“I’m proud of you. You finally managed to face your demon.”

I looked up. It was so unclear, but I knew nothing would have fixed that. I was in far too broken a state. If I were to shatter into pieces, it would come as no surprise to me.

But what I saw was not a corpse fall. Make no mistake; she had died. That copy, anyway. But she was always artificial. So it only made sense that she would simply disappear, rather than leave behind a body.

Her death was no illusion, either. There was no one else in her place. The drive that had been in the computer had also disappeared. Not because it was an illusion, but because it seemed to only exist as a part of her.

How I knew this? I didn’t. But it was the most comfort I could take. Because I didn’t want to think that I had truly unleashed her upon others. Because in this room, I was alone. Lonely. But I didn’t think I should have felt any other way. Everything hurt. To simply exist was a painful experience. I didn’t know what to expect, because it was the first time in my life that I was fully human.

If I didn’t get up and move, there was the risk of being found and killed or captured. But I couldn’t find the will. All I could do was lay there and sob.

I was free. I was unhappy.

[dragonnan]

Shawn and Juliet are married (Finally!). That doesn't mean they can't do-wop it again; especially if that means a certain former partner and best friend can also attend. Meanwhile, a trip to a famous Chocolate Factory leads to murder and mystery - with Shawn and Gus smack dab in the middle!

Hot sun beat down from a gloriously cloud free blue sky.  A day, custom made, for sport, adventure, and maybe a little bit of love.  Granted, Shawn Spencer would have been content with a large smoothie and basket of buffalo wings.  Wedding mania had completely corrupted Juliet to the point of enforcing a strict diet.  No sweets, no alcohol, no fatty or fried foods... his own, personal “Biggest Loser” event was wasting him away to a shadow of his former glory.  He could feel the cold hand of death resting at the back of his neck.  One more salad with fat free dressing and he was done for.

So to clarify he wasn't entirely certain why they were doing this, again. An off the cuff dock wedding stenched up with the tang of dead fish and whale flatulence had seemed extremely perfect and affordable even if there'd been a Lassitarian lack. But, with Lassie's enforced “use it or lose it” stack of vacation time Jules had thought “wedding” and now here they were.

Giving the sky one last, longing, look through the tall glass on the front doors, Shawn grunted as he bent to gather the mail from the floor.  They really needed to get a proper mailbox.  Bill, bill, bill, Safecracker magazine, and one giant purple envelope with a gold heart for the return address.  No mail for him.

Gus was at his desk and Shawn tossed his mail into the inbox on the corner.  Gus’s attention shifted from the minor stack to the long purple envelope currently being opened by his best friend.

“What’s that?”

Shawn forced his index finger beneath the extremely well sealed flap - wiggling the digit to slowly tear open the stubborn paper.  “Dunno.  Letter from the ghost of Prince?  Secret lover maybe?  You’ve been watching “Sister Wives” is there something you aren’t telling me, dude?”

“Wait, is that my mail?”  Shoving to his feet and snatching the envelope, a centimeter shy of slicing a crippling paper cut through his buddy’s still burrowing finger, Gus pulverized Shawn with a glare as he fished a letter opener from the right top drawer of his desk.  “Tampering with the mail is a federal offense, Shawn!”

Shawn blew cool air across his abused fingertip.  “Please – you and I both know that only counts if you don’t seal up the envelope again.”

Only then did Gus take a proper look at the gold heart logo on the return address.   His own heart started up a wild hammering in his chest and he struggled to control his suddenly shaking hands.  “Shawn, this is…” he gulped; tipping his stare towards his friend’s glowering sulk.  “There was a contest… a portion of it involved filling out a personality essay.  I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d rewrite my essay and enter instead.”

Shawn tipped his head sideways.  “That’s fair.”  

“It was offered by the Salz Sweetz Candy Factory.  The winning entries get a tour of the factory and a chance to win the grand prize.”

Back to sucking his finger, Shawn raised an eyebrow.  “Gwand pwise?”

“An unlimited supply of chocolate for the next two years… and,” he gulped again, “an honorary position at the factory.”

“What kind of position?”

Gus shook his head.  “It didn’t say.  But you know what I think?”

Shawn leaned forward – injured finger forgotten as thoughts of possible and untold wealth filling the imaginations of them both.  “What?”

Voice dropped with the hints of conspiracy, Gus looked back and forth affirming that, yes, they were still alone.  “I think that they’re looking to groom a young entrepreneur to move to the head of the company.  Someone with a passion for the sweet side of life; you hear what I’m saying?”

Shawn licked his lips.  “I’m not sure.  You’re using your seductive wooing voice right now and I’m kinda uncomfortable.”

Stepping back fast, Gus glared before neatly slicing along the top of the envelope and blowing the edges apart with a puff of air.  Both of them could see the shine of gold paper inside.  Gus swallowed – eyebrows pushing together as he reached in to grab the paper with two fingers.

“Come on, come on!”  Wanting nothing more than to snatch back the envelope to unearth its secrets himself, Shawn clamped down on his impulses with admirable, and some would say, heroic, effort.  That didn’t stop him from breathing hot air across his buddy’s neck as he crowded in as close as possible.

“Dude, you don’t back up off my neck, I’m gonna jab an elbow in your solar plexus.”

Shawn snorted.  “Oh please, we both know you can’t reach that hi-oof!”  Jumping back as the marble hard appendage smacked into his delicate middle tissues, Shawn rubbed his cramping tum while Gus gingerly lifted the shining golden page from the heavy envelope.  His gasp was enough to forestall Shawn’s bitchery regarding ruptured small intestines.  

“Oh my God…  Shawn!  Oh my God…”  

Eyes went wide as Gus started to hyperventilate.  “What?  Are you kidding me?  I was only joking about the Prince thing…”  Before his babble could escalate more, Gus thrust the paper into his face.

The first word, and the only word he could read with the paper so close was “CONGRATULATIONS!”  Grabbing the paper from Gus, Shawn held it at a somewhat more comfortable distance.  

[tessatechaitea]

The Ray #1

In 1994, I had no idea who Christopher Priest and Howard Porter were so I have no idea why I purchased this comic book.

Although (continuing the thought from the caption which is just me saying, "Fuck the format! I can do what I want!") I was in my early 20s in 1994 so I was probably into that edgy fascination with freaks and body deformity. I hadn't seen Tod Browning's Freaks yet but I'm sure I would have jumped at the chance if I'd known about it. It's the only reason I can figure why I bought a comic book about a character I knew nothing about. Because it looks like he's a hero with a deformed baby leg. I probably picked it up off the shelf and yelled, "Fuckin' A, dude! Look at this ganky bastich!" It was 1994 so obviously I was emulating Lobo in my every day life. Some of you might be thinking, "Ugh! You're so gross and problematic!" But I'm just being honest! I was a young man, masking like crazy in order to hide my vulnerabilities so I wouldn't be crushed by social interactions and existential threats to my psyche. I had to act tough to survive the crazy streets of Santa Clara, California! Back then, Silicon Valley wasn't like it is now! In 1994, hulking techno-nerds were roaming the streets with razor sharp circuit boards looking to cut the genitals off of anybody who criticized the Neo-Geo CD home gaming console. If you looked at them funny, they'd challenge you to a game of Cyberball and you'd better hope you won because they were also obsessed with Mortal Combat and if you lost, the last thing you'd hear would be a bunch of techno-nerds screaming "Finish him!" before you found yourself upside down gagging on the filthy water of an unflushed public toilet. The early nineties were some rough years! Especially when you were into heavy metal! People think grunge and rap killed metal but think about what people thought was "rock and roll" during the early 90s: Warrant's "Cherry Pie" and Extreme's "More Than Words." I mean, Feetal's Gizz! Metal was dead long before grunge and rap came by to fill its grave. Anyway, you could totally be into freaks in the early 90s because the Internet didn't exist so your opinions weren't reaching anybody outside your small circle of friends. All the other people of the world who didn't know you at all didn't have a way to tell you you were a piece of shit because of one single thing that comprised the myriad facts of who you were. Fuck you, Internet! No, no! I'm sorry! Don't be mad at me, Internet! I can't live without you! Also, maybe I just bought this comic book because the cover was shiny and embossed and growing up in Santa Clara was so boring that it made this comic book looked exciting. The issue begins with The Ray battling Brimstone. Remember him from Legends?

Brimstone is as big as Godzilla and he's already killed hundreds of people, judging by the apartment buildings he's smashed.

I don't know who The Ray is or where he's from. What part of the United States of America uses slang like "gaffle," "put my serve on," "zoom this buster," "bone out," "feebs," and "rot." Is this just Christopher Priest trying to mimic youth speak? I would expect this kind of thing from an aging comic book writer like current Neal Adams but Priest was in his early thirties when he wrote this. Maybe The Ray is from another Earth and Priest's theory was that slang words would obviously differ between Earths. But not so much that you couldn't get the gist of what he's saying. Except for "gaffle." I don't know what the fuck he wants to do to Brimstone when he says he's going to gaffle him. I know what I would mean by it but that doesn't seem appropriate in this situation.

Oh wait. The Ray was just writing fan-fiction about himself.

So the Brimstone fight didn't really happen. Or it did happen but The Ray is using it as fodder to write comic books about himself. So he's like Clark Kent writing articles about Superman? At least writing comic book stories about your own adventures isn't unethical. Fucking Clark Kent. What kind of a journalist uses his soap box to simply promote himself? No wait. Journalists fucking suck. I despise journalists for the same reason I despise police officers. If you're just letting your profession go to shit because a bunch of people are abusing their positions of power and not actually doing the public service they're supposed to be doing, you're just as bad as the worst apple in the barrel. There's a reason that whole apple/barrel thing is still a saying even though nobody really associates apples with barrels anymore. Maybe The Ray isn't writing comic books although it seems like the super edgy postmodern take a writer in the 90s would think was fucking mind blowing. We got Kyle Rayner, comic book artist, as the new Green Lantern. Why shouldn't we also get a comic book writer in there as well? Or The Ray might just be writing stories for his college paper which would mean he's just as unethical and terrible as Clark Kent, I suppose. But in an amateurish way. The Ray (whose name is Ray Terrill so it was lucky he got light-based powers) stops trying to write and decides to tell the readers about the last few days. He's a young guy who works at a fast food chicken joint and has just leased his first apartment. It's a piece of shit with some garbage and/or artistic sculpture in the middle of the room but he doesn't have any credit or money so he's stuck with it. I bet there are corpses under the floor boards as well as other things too boring to mention (but which I'll mention anyway) like rats and cockroaches and dried semen stains.

This is Ray's narration of the place which I read after I wrote the previous paragraph. Was I writing comics and named Christopher Priest in 1994?

The Ray spends all day handing out flyers to Clucky Chicken while standing right outside Clucky Chicken. Is that what flyers are for? To remind people about the thing they can totally see right in front of them? I guess they could be coupons. While he's handing out flyers, his super cool cousin Hank stops by to gaffle some swang all up in through him.

This must be Earth-15 where they say things like "Yo trip dat frum, golderboots!" and "Swank on into my PQs, Flub Daddy!"

The Ray is disappointed that he's a man now because responsibility sucks. Kids can't stand curfews and rules but man is it sweet to be able to come and go as you please (within curfew, of course!) while doing whatever the fuck you want and not worrying about money for food or rent. The Ray can't even fuck his girlfriend because she saw him in the chicken suit and is all, "Oh, um, I just came by to say I can't come by! Bye!" The Ray can travel at the speed of light anywhere he wants while carrying other people. That makes sense because comic books. He takes his cousin Hank Fonzerelli to see a volcano shaped like a hand in Hawaii only to discover that it's another Brimstone. It's activated by a henchman of Darkseid while The Ray and Hank are checking out a surf competition or a luau. It's at this point when The Ray gets back to the beginning of the story where he was failing to stop Brimstone from destroying a city. As he picks the story back up, Superboy arrives to save the day. Not the boring Superboy who used to be Superman and learned a terrible secret about himself on his sixteenth birthday about an extra candle. The new Superboy who arrived on the scene after Superman died. He might also be boring but I wouldn't know having never read any comic books about him. The new Superboy is an arrogant dick and The Ray hates him. That's probably why The Ray winds up killing him. Or he thinks he killed him. Everybody reading the comic book probably thought The Ray killed him too (because we were all dumb-dumbs who actually believed DC Comics had killed Superman off for good. Why wouldn't they?! He was a big boring boy scout whose powers kept fluctuating because editors and writers thought the problem with writing Superman stories was that he was too powerful. But the real problem with writing Superman stories was that those same writers and editors were unimaginative assholes who didn't actually understand Superman. Why else would Superman have died from a fist fight?! Seriously, Dan Jurgens. What were you thinking?! Superman should never have been killed because he encountered something more powerful that could just beat the shit out of him. Superman should have been killed because of a philosophical or ethical dilemma where he realized the only way to save the world was to allow himself to die. He should have been Jesus but instead he was just Apollo Creed. Who I think was a metaphor for John the Baptist? The issue ends with the narrator letting the readers know that Superboy isn't actually dead and why would the idiots think he'd be killed in The Ray when he was currently starring in his own popular monthly comic book? Stupid dumb comic book readers! But the narrator also mentions that The Ray is out of power (I didn't know he had to recharge) and Brimstone is kind of mad. Then he's all, "If we were you," (I don't think a proper editor in 1994 would have allowed a writer to use the plural pronoun "we" as a non-specific gender singular pronoun so now I'm picturing the narrator as a small group of old people), "We'd be back here in 30 days!" And I guess 22 year old me agreed with them because I purchased Issue #2. The Ray #1 Rating: C. C is average, right? I didn't find anything I particularly loved about this issue but I also didn't find anything I absolutely hated. Except for Superboy but I think I was supposed to hate him so that's a positive critique. I probably purchased the next issue because I wanted to find out what happens to Hank Fonzerelli. What a cool dude! The letters pages don't have any letters but it does have a story by Brian Augustyn about how Christopher Priest changed his name from Jim Owsley. It also explains that Priest's idea for The Ray was to have a teenager suddenly have to deal with god-like powers while still being a teenager. I think before this that was called "Spider-man". Except for the god-like powers! Those were more spider-like powers.

[cactusbaseball]

On the end of Warped Tour

To the great despair of the emos, the pop punk kids, and anyone mentally stuck in the early 2000s like me, Warped tour has come to an end. Though I was only able to attend two of the last tours, warped was honestly such an important part of my teenage life, and I can’t let it die without writing a hideously cheesy and overly analytical good-bye letter that no one will read to send it off. 

Long post ahead, but i honestly had a lot to say and I think some of it is pretty well written so if ur emo give it a read

My first Warped was warped 2015, and it was one of the best days of my life. I had spent months planning, religiously following the weekly artist releases, watching altpress’s advice videos and picking out the perfect outift (it was very important to 14 year old me that I looked as cool as possible). I was a fresh emo kid, having just gotten into the whole altpress-pop-punk-emo scene, and had built warped up in my head to be the mecca of my new music taste. Arriving at warped tour was, for me, almost like stepping into the pages of a beloved book or through the screen of your favorite TV show. Suddenly I had entered a world where everyone had badass neon colored hair and wore shirts for all the bands I had come to adore, where my favorite musicians were not simply characters in music videos but real people I could talk to at their merch tents. I felt like a kid in a candy store, dashing from stage to stage to see set after set after set, my eardrums suffering but my soul glowing. It was at that tour that I experienced my first Real Mosh Pit (thanks pierce the veil hehe) and that I bonded with my mom over out shared amazement at seeing pvris live, leading to a tradition of us seeing them together whenever they come to town. I felt elated, I felt accepted. I felt like I was finally more than the nerdy, naive little girl that everyone at school thought i was. Who knew that the girl who spent all her time in her room doing math and who was faced with extreme anxiety when deciding where to sit in the cafeteria could hold up crowd-surfers, shove her way to the barricade, and handle 5 sets back to back on different stages? i felt like a superhero discovering my powers for the first time.

Beyond my personal experience, I truly believe warped was just a uniquely wonderful organization. I loved how it was designed to be accessible to young people (with the free parent tickets, the shuttles, the reverse daycare, etc), making it easy for teens to become involved in the scene even if they didn’t have parents who were willing to pay for a ticket or even drive them to the show. I loved how they kept it affordable and how they didnt do vip bullshit or higher prices for more popular artists: one $50 ticket let you into any show your heart desired and as many as you could keep standing for. The way warped made music available to so many different types of people around the country is so integral to the tightly knit community surrounding this kind of music. And I feel like the way the show orders were randomly decided was super important in giving smaller bands the chance to be noticed and rise to fame. So many bands seen as legends today (paramore, mcr, fob,etc) were helped by warped on their journeys to fame in the early 2000s. 

I honestly just feel like warped was an irreplaceable aspect of the alternative music scene and with warped ending (and altpress becoming this super expensive monthly magazine instead of a $5 yearly subscription) the scene i loved as a teenager is losing the glue that held it together. I know nothing lasts forever, and obviously the music scene and bands I loved as a kid will have to grow and change just like I will. But i feel like that rebellious, teen-angst fueled punk rock spirit that warped represented, the idea that music should be loud, emotional, and available to everyone, is fading from popular culture. And that breaks my heart. Live music is becoming less and less accessible as streaming services make it necessary for ticket sales to be artists’ primary source of income, and as the internet makes live shows less of a necessity for bands wanting to get their sound out there. Alternative music has been largely taken over by indie-pop and dream-pop and psych rock and the like, and while these are by no means bad genres, it really frustrates me that deafening guitar based rock is becoming harder and harder to find. Warped tour was also a place to love the music you love unapologetically, which is harder and harder to find as the pretentious politics that decide which music is “cool” become more and more convoluted.

Like I said, I know nothing lasts forever. But I just hope that some tour or magazine or something will come along that will bring the alt rock scene together in the way warped did and carry on some of the spirit i feel it represented. There’s elements of that spirit in events like Emo Nite that celebrate the unashamed love of obnoxious music, and in every former emo teenager that decides to pick up a guitar and start a shitty band with their old friends. I just hope that spirit never dies, and I hope I will be able to do my part to keep it alive. 

Anyway, sorry for the insanely long post. To some of you it may seem like i’ve just spent several paragraphs ranting about something that doesn’t matter but I just feel like I needed to get all this off my chest give this tour a proper goodbye. So goodbye, Warped Tour, and thank you for everything. Your memory will carry on ❤

[dkettchen]

My transition timeline - masterpost:

∼2001-2003 (age 4 or 5): noticing that me and my gnc best friend were different from other kids, genderwise; not having words to describe that with & making up our own

∼2009-2013:  going through first puberty & being super uncomfortable & NOT KNOWING WHY THAT COULD POSSIBLY BE

November 2013 (age 16):  figuring out I’m bi & that that’s an option, coming out to my best friend (different one lol) literally like two days later because NEWS

2014: starting to present more butch, newly freed from heteronormative gender expectations; figuring out I’m non-binary & that that’s an option

2014-2016: coming out to ppl; lots o’ haircuts, *stares off into space* so many...; buying two compressing sportsbras in an attempt to bind but they had this like uncomfortable band at the bottom so I never wore them

2016-2017:  realising still not happy despite having expressed freely for like 3 years; facing physical dysphoria finally; researching medical transition & figuring out hormones & some kind of top surgery would solve my issues; cutting the dumb band off the sportsbras & buying a proper binder off the internet, actually starting to bind sometimes

May 2017 (age 20):  referral to the GIC (NHS) by GP

October 2017:  official name change announcement via inktober entry

May 2018: 1st GIC assessment w/ Dr Whiteley; shattering of hope for the next like year rip, referral to GIC counselling & (hopefully) voice therapy waiting lists (later misgendering me in her report)

August 2018: self referral to gendercare (private) to get hormones earlier

October 2018: (private) psych assessment w/ Dr Lenihan (explaining all the things Dr Whiteley got wrong so I would not be refused treatment this time)

February 2019 (age almost 22): (private) endo appointment w/ Dr Seal; private T gel prescription -> (very nice saint of a) GP NHS prescription; deed poll name change (promised condition for Dr Seal prescribing me hormones); (all within same week) -> starting (low dose of) T (Dr Lorimer confirmed it’s like 1/4 of a regular starting dose)

March-June 2019: GIC (individual) counselling (1-3.5 months on T)

June 2019: 2nd GIC assessment w/ Dr Lorimer; 1st/2 sign offs on my top surgery (4 months on T)

July 2019:  Application to get my legal name change back home in Luxembourg

September 2019: Gov received my application, but some misunderstanding about change of gender marker (which I didn’t ask for bc I know we don’t have X markers yet) & turns out I needed to HAND SIGN the letter, so I had to send it in again

November 2019: Judge replied (addressed to dead name) asking for more evidence that I’m using the name irl (I already supplied a whole pile of evidence the first time), sent that in

December 2019: Different T gel prescription by GP bc the other one isn’t being made anymore, I guess -> dose change, because new gel’s lowest dose is higher than the other one (I wanted to get it to a half dose anyway so it was kinda convenient)

April 2020: Got a letter from the grand duke saying he & the relevant ministers have decided (after I paid the 61€ for the procedure) that I am now allowed to change my name (after three more months of waiting that is)

[lovemesomesurveys]

What is your name? Stephanie. What is your usual username on sites? I don’t want to share that. What are you most looking forward to in the near future? Christmas time. I need to get started on my shopping soon. If you could see any band play live ( dead or alive ) who would it be? Linkin Park with Chester Bennington.  What’s your favorite color of shoe? Most of my shoes are white, but I do like different colored Converse. 

Do you have any breakouts right now? I have one on my chin that I keep picking at. :/ Do you always wear a specific piece of jewelry? What? Nope. What is your favorite font? Tahoma, Verdana, and Georgia.  Do you journal? I think it’s important to do so. This is my journal.  What color are your nails right now? They’re not painted.  What color do you want them to be? I don’t feel like painting them. I haven’t painted my nails in like 3 years. What is your favorite hairstyle on you? Long and layered.  Do you like guys with beards? I’m not super big on a lot of facial hair, but I guess it would depend.  Celeb crush? Alexander Skarsgard.  Non celeb crush? I don’t have one. Bad habit you are trying to nix? I have a lot I should be trying to get rid of. What do you eat for breakfast? Scrambled eggs with spinach and shredded cheese or a breakfast burrito.  What is your favorite American restaurant? I don’t really have a favorite restaurant.  Non American? How much do you like tacos? I like them.  Do you post music on your facebook? No. What do you think about people who don’t have facebook? I don’t care.  Favorite thing to drink? Coffee.  Favorite thing to eat? Be specific. Ramen, bologna sandwiches, pasta salads, pizza, garlic parm boneless chicken wings, scrambled eggs with spinach and shredded cheese, breakfast burritos... How do you like your potatoes best? Just about every way.  Do you wear wristbands? No. Have you ever worn those rubber bracelet things? Yeah, I had quite a few. Do you like bobby pins or think they suck? I find them to be useful. What is one movie you’d love to own? or do? Hmm. Favorite show to watch when there is a new episode? I have a few. You wish that you would… blank Get it together.  Would you rather go to school or have a job? I mean if we’re being honest I don’t want either one, but I’m 30 years old and probably should have a job.  What is your major? I majored in psych. How old are you anyways? 30. When is the last time you were sick? * Currently, technically? <<< Same. As far as things like colds and stuff go, I was hit hard with the flu and bronchitis earlier this year. Do you get sick a lot? I rarely get colds and stuff like that, but I feel sick for other reasons a lot of the time. What do you think about Lady Gaga? I like some of her songs. Favorite cookie? Sugar. Favorite type of candy? Reese’s and white chocolate. There’s also white chocolate Reese’s.  Favorite flavor? That’s harder to describe and list. I don’t feel like trying. Favorite candle scent so far? I love autumnal ones. Candles or incense? I like both. Would you rather have a new computer or a new car? New computer. Flat iron or curling iron? Out of the 2 I’d pick flat iron, but I don’t use either one. I used to straighten my hair often, but not in the past 4 years or so. What color is your keyboard? Black with white letters. Take pics with phone or actual camera? Phone. What’s your favorite flower? I don’t really have one, I just usually say roses. If you could paint your bedroom walls any color what would it be? A pastel color of some kind. Favorite store to shop in? I’m giving you $500 dollars. Could I use it at various places? Are you more goth or preppy? I’m just me. Are you religious? Yes. Would you ever have an abortion? I can’t get pregnant.  Favorite websites? Name 3 of your favorite… Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter. Chocolate or vanilla ice cream? Vanilla. Favorite dessert? Cheesecake, cupcakes, brownies, cookies, muffins.  Would you rather go to the lake or to the beach right now? Beach. Camping or going to the mall? Mall. Swimming or Hiking? Neither. Running or Walking? Neither. Do you exercise? Nope. Do you recycle? We recycle plastic bottles and cans. You should! Do you collect stickers? No. Favorite holiday? Christmas. What do you want for your birthday from your bf or gf? I’m single. What should someone get you for V-day? Nothing. Stuffed animal, flowers or chocolates? Stuffed animal. Particularly a giraffe. Watch or no watch? No watch. Junkfood or healthy food? Junk food. Veggies or fruit as a snack? I don’t want either one as a snack :X Potato chips or fruit salad? Chips. Coffee or tea? Coffee. What do you order from Starbucks? White chocolate mocha, caramel macchiato, or something seasonal. What do you order at the deli? Sandwich with turkey, salami, mustard, mayo, spinach, and oil and vinegar.  Favorite flavor of milk? I don’t drink milk. Place you want to visit? There’s a lot of places I want to visit.  Something you like to do alone? Read. Something you like doing with friends? Get coffee or just chill. Bar or brewery? I don’t drink. PB&J or turkey sandwhich? Turkey sandwich. Salad or burger? Salad. Ranch or Italian? Ranch. Pizza or pasta? Pizza. Italian or Mexican food? Italian. Chinese or Sushi? Chinese. Dine in or take out? Take out. What do you order at your favorite fast food restaurant? Chicken sandwich or chicken strips with fries. Or a breakfast burrito if we’re talking McDonald’s or Jack in the Box. How many pillows must you sleep with? I sleep with 2, but I have like 6 on my bed. Thick or thin blanket? I just use my favorite fluffy throw blanket. Do you walk around barefoot in your house? No. Do you have a ring on your ring finger? No. Single or taken? Single. Favorite actor and in what movie did you love them in? Alexander Skarsgard in every role haha. What band shirt would you wear? I have a couple Linkin Park shirts, a couple Nirvana shirts, and a Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt. What band shirt would you not wear? One I didn’t like? Are you a gangsta? No. What do you think about cigars? I don’t smoke.  Do you know how to type home row? I know what the home row is, but I don’t type the proper way.  Would you rather have a free CD or free DVD? DVD.

[mysticsparklewings]

Holiday Card Project 2019

Oh would you look at that; I’m participating in the deviantArt Holiday Card Project again this year! Just like last year, my crafty efforts aren’t really done proper justice by scans or photos, so I’ll be uploading a short video...somewhere (probably Instagram but we’ll see) and then link back to it to hopefully show it off a bit more.   It’s funny though, I’d almost forgotten about HCP until I got the notification that it had opened for this year. And yet I was so concerned about having it in the mail on time that I got this one done pretty much in one day. I think last year's card took me closer to 2 days and I was pushing my luck that it would get there in time.   My process for this year went as follows: I browsed around on Pinterest for a while, as I hadn’t the foggiest idea what to do. During that process, I latched onto a concept I saw a few times; Christmas lights and the phrase “merry and bright,” and so I went with that. Already I had the idea of the lights being across the top of the card, with a real piece of thread (which would later be changed to wire as the idea occurred to me while I was digging for some other supplies) connecting them. After some thought, I decided I wanted to add some cotton to the bottom to add a little more pizzazz. Because if last year’s HCP taught me anything, it’s that I like to go big or go home for the occasion. And I knew where I could get some too; the fields next to the house have already been picked for this year, but there was still a good amount of cotton leftover on the stalks near the edges. Let me tell you, I have a newfound appreciation for whoever invented a mechanical way to take the seeds out of cotton, because gosh darn it if that process is not far more tiresome than you’d think! I think I finally did manage to get them all out, but now I know why it’s probably just easier to buy cotton or polyester fiberfill. XD Anyway. With my mind made up and a handle full of cotton at the ready, I started on the actual card part. In the past, for my card needs I’ve usually used some of the pre-folded & cut cards my mom has on hand, but this time I didn’t feel like bothering her about it. So instead I grabbed a piece of my gold-shimmer cardstock and cut it down so that once I folded it I’d have a 5” x 7” card. (As that’s what Google told me was a fairly common size for greeting cards and would fit comfortably in most standard envelopes.) Then I used my trick from my book-making endeavors of using the edge of scissors to “score” the folding line on one side of the card to make that process easier. In trying to make some stamps I didn’t end up using magically appear from whoever they were hiding, I found some metallic gold stripey paper in my stash and had the idea to cover the outside of the card with it, maybe. At the time I was a little bit skeptical if I wanted to do that, but I pulled it out and set it on the desk anyway so I could have the option if I wanted it. And as you can see, I ended up deciding to go for it, though at this point in the process I simply measured out and cut it as needed; I wouldn’t attach it until later. Then I paused and used the scrap cardstock pieces to test some pens and such, only to find I was only minimally (at best) interested in using any of them. I had some ideas to incorporate certain things but they were things I couldn’t really try out until I had more of the card finished, and some things I couldn’t figure out solutions for until then either. So I swatched out some marker colors and started practicing on some print outs of the Christmas light shape—which is fortunately had the foresight to do the said printing out before I got into the thick of everything else—only to find that I just really was not happy with the blends I was getting.  I think the main problem is that I just didn’t have certain colors I needed, but the glowing/fade effect I was trying to get was also totally new territory for me and I seemed to only get worse the more times I tried it.   In the end, I picked out a “base” shade for each Christmas light color from the markers and then selected a dark, a “true color” and a highlight from my Prismacolor pencils to do the shading instead. There were still challenges to be had, but this system worked a lot better for me. Benefits of being a mixed media artist: if one medium just isn’t doing it for you, you can bring in others to level the playing field   The lights then got bright shine spots courtesy of my white Gelly roll pen and their little silver bits I did with a silver Art Philosophy watercolor. Even though I was already anticipating the silver getting kind of lost against the gold in the background. I had a vision and I was sticking to it. In addition to that vision, once the lights were safe to handle I glued them to a piece of foam and then left them alone to dry, figuring it would be easier and simpler to cut them out if I only had to do it once. As such, the edges aren’t super smooth, but otherwise, I think that was the right call. While they dried, I then attached the gold-stripe paper to the card surface and started thinking about where and how I would implement the text parts of the card. (And at some point I took a break to figure out the full inside and outside please, as originally all I was going on was “merry and bright,” though I don’t remember when exactly in the process that was.) Here, I had the idea that black paper might look cool. The only black paper I have is a pad of Crayola stuff that I think is actually for practicing calligraphy or hand lettering or something? My original plan was to take one of the pages out and use the blank back, but as I filled through I saw some of the cut out frame-y things and took a look to see if any of them would work for what I wanted/needed, and you can see the two I picked out. Though the one on the inside of the card had only the black and gray/silver originally; the colors I added by hand with my gel pens since it felt like it really needed it. The black paper on the inside also needed a little more attention than the one on the outside. I didn’t cut either of them perfectly straight, but there were a lot more distracting elements that were going to be on the outside, so it was far less noticeable there. On the inside, I ended up going around the edge with some gold and white washi tape that when well with the outside of the card to camouflage the uneven edges. By the time I had all the various papers properly attached to each other and the top edge inside of the card decorated with a strip of glitter tape and a repeating stamp of Christmas lights to tie in with the outside, I felt the lights were dry enough to cut out, so I did. And that meant that the /real/ card assembly could begin. I punched little holes in the tops of the lights for the wire I’d add in later and then fiddled with their placement for a bit before gluing them down...which I then I had to wait for about twenty minutes before I could proceed if I wanted things to dry mostly flat.   So while that took its sweet time to dry I went back to the Crayola black paper pad to one of the pages with a grid on it to practice writing out the words for both the outside and inside of the card. In doing so, I discovered that the uni-ball Signo white pen, while bolder and brighter than the Gelly roll, made my cursive almost illegible by virtue of having a thicker tip. Which is why I went with the Gelly roll instead. Just printed handwriting didn’t feel right; I really wanted the fancier look of the cursive. However, I also wanted whoever gets the card to actually be able to read it too. Eventually, the lights, while not fully dry, were dry enough that I could comfortably move on with the assembly. And hindsight, perhaps I should’ve tried stringing the lights onto the wire before gluing them down. The main issue I had was that once I got the wire poked through the hole, it’d bump into the card on the other side and then not want to go anywhere at all. I had to play with it each time to get the wire to come all the way through so I could pull it to the next one. Or maybe that would’ve made the gluing process more difficult than it was worth? We’ll never know. And then I got to attach the cotton. That actually ended up being a much smoother process than I anticipated, as the cotton doesn’t really separate from itself unless you pull it apart, so once I had parts of a clump glued down they were pretty stationary. This was also the first time I dared use my crafting heat gun since I purchased it (which was a while ago; after reading the warnings the first time I’ve been too chicken to use it for fear of catching something on fire by accident ) as I originally thought I’d need more glue and I’d need to glue some clumps on, dry them, and then glue some more. Fortunately, I seemingly put my big girl panties on for nothing as, after the initial layer of glue, I really only needed to glue a couple of other clumps down separately, and as I mentioned the cotton stick to the wet glue well enough on its own. But I had psyched myself up and gotten the thing set up, so once all the cotton was glued down I used the heat gun to dry the glue faster anyway. I was amped up the whole time but I, fortunately, did not burn anything in the process!   I did end up going back and adding some blue gel pen to the black paper on the inside, as that was the only color not there and it felt sorely lacking, giving the lights elsewhere on the card. But other than that, once the cotton was all squared away, the card was done. And I’ll be honest; I still like the card I made last year, but I think I’ve really outdone myself this time. There’s just something about the style of this card I enjoy so much more. 

It’s equally over-the-top (as is my crafting specialty ) but it’s more refined, somehow, I think. Either way, all that’s left to do now is mail it off and hope that the recipient is as pleased with the card as I am. I can’t believe I’ve actually finished with it this early though!  That’s so unlike me; I’m usually the one sneaking things in right on top of the deadline. But hey that means now I have one less thing on my to-do list so I can focus on other things...which may or may not include a holiday-themed kitty drawing in the works... ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[hunterartemis]

The Assistant: Filler Chapter : Nostalgia and Unresolved Issues

Word count: 4340 (initial) 5745 (after edit)

Chapter Theme: Beth’s Theme by Ólafur Arnalds : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmKkaCKWreM

Warning: Intoxicated state, mention of alcohol and smoking (I do not drink, do drugs or smoke or advice to do either one of these to anyone.)

This chapter is also very prose based, and has lesser dialogues and actions (I thought, I should take it easy in this chapter)

Summery: As the title suggests, there will be some nostalgia and unresolved issues.

The golden memory of the sunset stayed picturesque in their mind while they whirled in the edge of Dover cliff. All that happened in the golden winter afternoon seemed like a distant happy past in comparison to the ashy lilac sky against the stark white and still Dover cliff. They parted ways like two playmates after a long day in the playground, forcibly separated from each other by their mothers, however good memories need to be embalmed with a quiet solitary pondering.

Newt didn’t go straight home. He was tired and out of his senses with exhaustion. He went to the Leaky Cauldron to have himself a dinner; smiling and recalling his memories at Le Procope just to take off his mind from this perpetually subordinate meal, under a musty and dark roof. At the time of his return, while he was paying his bills, he felt the rigid folded paper in his inner breast-pocket, dormantly tucked in for a chance of safe posting.

He called upon the Hotel Owl and posted the letter, and with a crack, he was standing in front of his apartment. With a click of lock, a soft plop of his coat on his side-couch and clacks of kicking shoes of and a sweep of disrobing, Newt thudded in his bed, fast asleep. The last image in his eyes was the light blue Lanvin paper bag on his bedside study table, bulging with his unexpected ‘Christmas gift’.

On the other side of Thames, Maxine entered her apartment. Despite the day, there was a lingering futility in her exhaustion. It was that kind of exhaustion that comes after labouring intensely and getting no positive result out of it. She disrobed and donned on her favourite pink watersilk dressing gown, plopped herself on the chaise and called for her dinner. Lampito, her elf brought her dinner at the baroque coffee table at the lounge. She downed her food without any enthusiasm, as if she was being tube-fed while being anesthetised.  She was constantly reminded of Newt’s molten gold eyes and dazzling smile when he replied “yes... I do.”

There was a sense of disassociation in those three words.

While uncoiling her finger-curled bob, she leaned at the door panel of her bedroom, looking around her room with displeasement. It was the usual, a normal bedroom with a single bed and a small study table, monochromatically dull and claustrophobic. Two of the four walls were stacked upto ceilings with some read and mostly unread books. It was literally done prim and proper by her elf and instead of a welcoming comfort it generated a sternness and rigidity. She lolled towards her bed, kicked off her slippers and tossed her robe at an indefinite direction and sunk into the bed, only to summon her slender pipe and light a cigarette. But coincidentally, not once her lips touched the pipe. As the bluish gray smoke rolled upwards her mind whirled in her past.

The journey hadn’t been easy

The night oddly reminded her of her first night at Hogwarts. It was a rain-drenched September night, cold as the ninth pit of hell and awfully quiet. She smiled sourly at the affectionate bed arrangement for her on the floor by her roommates, where she slept all night, just to return the favour for the next few weeks. And she couldn’t blame them. After all, not every day a beautiful French girl comes to claim one of the spare beds amongst the people she never seen in her life. She wished she was this confident when she was actually there. The execution of the revenges and wiping the OWL papers blank of that bully Montague just after submission would have been way more fun.  

His face was priceless when he had to repeat fifth year.

Although she would never admit it to herself, she clearly remembered the first time she walked the grounds of Hogwarts, accompanied by her father Hrothgar Valois*, grabbing her by the wrist. Her unsteady feet and mass of black waves interfered with her vision and caused irritation her otherwise generous father. She remembers how he sat her down in front of Headmaster Armando Dippet and Albus Dumbledore, the assistant headmaster and head of Gryffindor house, with utter disappointment, and she remembered the flabbergasted look on their faces, as at the time of admission she was 14.

“Zere ‘ad been some circumstances for which I have come ‘ere--” Monsieur Valois spoke with a low melodious tone with a heavy French accent, and did not sound very pleased with himself.

“That we can conclude... however” Professor Dippet answered with a wheezy voice “may we know what is the reason she is insisted to be admitted here so late...? The window of admission at Hogwarts comes only once, and it is the rule and the Law of the British ministry.” Professor Dippet looked at Monsieur Valois with displeasement.

“You misunderstand me, Professeur , she is, in fact educated. She is ze third child of mine and an heiress to the noble house of Valois, surely you’ve ‘eard?” Hrothgar waved his left hand perhaps to give them a glimpse of his baroque Alexandrite signet ring, glinting on his small finger.

“Blood purity cannot buy your daughter a place in Hogwarts, I am sure you know that.” Dumbledore answered sternly and Dippet agreed with him.

“What is the proof that she wasn’t neglected her education... a couple of purebloods we know take pride in their illiteracy and claim that Hogwarts have nothing to teach... they are the Gaunts, descendants of Salazar Slytherin, surely you’ve heard?” Professor Dippet commented with taunt. Hrothgar did not faze at all, in fact e softened instantly, in fact, he became almost glib.

“Of course, of course Professeur , ‘ow impudent of me. I should ‘ave brought it earlier” Monsieur Valois gave the headmaster a series of papers, “Zis is ‘er proof of previous education, a certificate from ‘er previeus school, ‘owever, in ze matter of delicate circumstances, ze name of ze school must be confidential.” Valois looked grimly at headmaster Dippet.

“And you are still insisting that I let her in my school?” Professor Dippet spoke quite loudly, but was pacified when Dumbledore spoke something in his ears. Dippet took the papers and read through all of them, and then he looked at the girl, who was, until this point, invisible. Both Dippet and Dumbledore fixed their gaze upon the fourteen year old.

“Do you know how to perform standard spells?” Dumbledore asked her, and her dark eyes fearfully looked at her father’s face then at the professor’s face, in shaking voice she replied

“Pardon, mais je ne comprend pas…” (I am sorry but I do not understand anything) and she was more scared when professor Dippet looked displeased, “Professeur, je suis désol�� pour mon incapacité a parler Anglais, je promets…” (Sir, I am sorry for my incapacity of speaking English, I promise...)* she sounded positively panicked, “d’essayer plus fort--”* (I will try my best)

“It’s okay Maxine... Ca va... Est-que ce tu savais a effectuer les sorts standard?” (do you know how to perform standard spells?) Dumbledore asked kindly, and her fearful eyes glowed with hope. She went up and attempted to perform a spell, but she could not do anything except sparks and smoke.

“It’s no good…” she heard Dippet utter, “she is just another--”

“No Professeur… j’essayer encore… une chance… sil vous plait” (No sir, I will try again, one chance... please) she waved her wand desperately again and again but nothing happened.

“Miss Valois... relax...” Dumbledore called out “respirez...” (breathe)

She breathed and closed her eyes, letting her surroundings vanish. Slowly she raised her wand and conjured a paper out of the thin air. She manoeuvred the paper to fold on itself into a bird which increased its size each time it flapped its wing and gave a final dive into the teacher’s table where it vaporised with a small ‘poof’. Dippet was judging the child by her father, and now he looked impressed for her talent.

“Very good…” came Dippet’s verdict while Maxine huffed a little sigh of relief.

“Peux-tu me montre… un sort pour transfiguration avancé?” (can you show me an advance transfiguration spell ?) Dumbledore asked her and within a moment Maxine transformed the jade paperweight on the table into a black iguana which jumped from the table and slithered across the room, startling all three men in the room.

“Bah… j’essayair un dragon” (I was aiming for a Dragon), Maxine mused but she knew with their expression that she is as good as in. Her years in L’estate Valois made her good in reading men.

Maxine smiled at her little memory of entrance exam. She remembered when professor Dippet finally agreed to bring out the sorting hat and place it on Maxine’s head. Dumbledore kindly informed her about all the formalities of the school. But that’s not the most kindest or memorable about the first day; the strangest thing started when that frayed battered hat was placed upon her head.

“Ah… how very interesting” the hat whispered in her mind, “courageous and timid, loyal and detached and an inquisitive mind… what to do with you?” the hat as if whispered into her inner psyche, like some cumbersome thought bugging one in the dead of the night.

“C’est étrange… Vous parlez ?” (How strange… you talk?)  Maxine’s mind relayed this at an instant. In the reply of the child, a faint coarse laugh echoed in the hollow of her brain, “Oui, petit fille, et je peux regarder dans votre espirit” (yes little girl, and I can see into your mind)

“Tu crois que tu peux me comprendre?” (you think you can understand me?) Maxine thought, “un petit chapeau comme toi?” (a little hat like you?)

“Défiance, c’est vrai?” (Defiance, is it?) The hat whispered “mais ma petit fille, est-que ce vous savez quand j’ai possède un abélite extraordinaire ce qui rend vous petit esprit claire comme du verre pour moi ?” (But do you know little girl that I possess an extraordinary ability that renders your little mind as clear as glass to me?) the hat haughtily answered her back and paused, and in a assuring and firm tone spoke “laissez moi démêler ton âme Maxine Valois… laissez moi te guider a la sublime.” (let me uncover your mind Maxine Valois... let me guide you to the sublime.)

“Comme ca?” (how so?)

“Even in the least confident child lies innate capability that, if harnessed correctly, it transforms them into someone extraordinary.” The sorting hat sermonised “and I am here, at the threshold to the doorway to greatness, only to make that choice easier.”

“Je comprend tout… mais c’est Anglais!” (I understand everything... but it’s English) Maxine thought.

“Yes… now let’s look at you again. Ah, such curious mind you have… what a complex concept you have on good and evil, respect and retaliation, rage and calm. An old fear that have caged you long since, but what is that that lurks inside? A bird or a monster...?”

“So you are nothing but a rusty old hat, who cannot even decide where to put me...” Maxine thought sarcastically, and then within her head the voice echoed “You possess contempt for the world because it fails to understand you, but do you understand yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“And that is the reason you crave greatness to conquer them all and knowledge to conquer yourself” the hat asserted, “and both sides weigh equally. So if you have to choose one of them, which one would it be?”

“Knowledge” Maxine answered in her mind “you can achieve greatness without knowledge, but it will not be for long, someone will eventually defeat you. However, if one has knowledge, greatness is a matter of time.”

“A heart fit for a Slytherin…” the sorting hat said aloud. However in that finality of note, lingered another statement, in which’s anticipation made Maxine lose her patience for every passing fractions of seconds. She knows what she was getting into, another place where status and family meant all. At the same time seeing her father’s eyes glinted with pride; she didn’t had the heart to disappoint him. She saw Dumbledore and Dippet watching her closely, and instantly she knew none of the conversation was heard by them. It must have been quite long because they looked at her way as if they were waiting for long anticipated news.

“But the spirit soars with Eagle wings…” the sorting hat concluded, and announced the verdict “I place her in Ravenclaw.”

Her life in Hogwarts wasn’t normal at all. She struggled a lot with the languages, got a lot of detentions and eventually she became more reckless and desperate with the faculty and the students. She hadn’t any friends, even within her houses. People would either whisper “go back to your country” or openly call her ‘Quin’ or some other adorable slurs. The faculty couldn’t do anything to her because of her grades, but she could tell that they didn’t like that she was the topper, there was some disapproval in their eyes... for which she caused it, she didn’t know.

Another thing which made her more of a target for bullying and censor. She was frequently visited by ministry officials, for what she didn’t know. They always asked the same questions: who was she? how was her family? where she came from? and the answers were always the same exasperated replies. She didn’t even remembered their face at this point, but they looked at her in a way that made her feel like she was being pitied. And she didn’t like that-- after all, why should she, she was from the Noble Family of Valois, one of the oldest  and richest French Purebloods. She should not be pitied, she should be a subject of jealousy. 

Hogwarts, as she remembered, was a prison to her. The hardest part of this experience was the inability to express her opinion. After all, who would believe her? Hogwarts was the best Wizarding school in the whole world.

Therefore she sought her escape in the Dark Forest, away from the maddening crowd, far from the scorns and judgement, into the musty scent and under the shades of the green canopy, with the dryads and wood-fairies, bowtruckles and the nightingales... flying all across the vast forest, harmonising with the Merpeople into a green horizon of peace. The silent ones don’t judge and discriminate, they love unconditionally, give unconditionally and that was the only thing that pacified her in the whole world. That same peace, she found with Newt Scamander.  Only with Newt she found a place where she can belong--without and family name or money, or grades. Just as herself.

The cigarette ash suspended on its dying ember. Maxine tipped it off and blew out the candle.

Many miles underground, inside a dark office, scratching of quills over papers could still be heard. Theseus Scamander was still working on the leads of Grindlewald. His well combed waves were astray, and he was on his fifth coffee in the past three hours. The towers of documents, immigration papers, and status profile and employment details were taking a physical toll on him as well as mental. All his employees left after sunset, as per standard rules, but not him. He could not bear to go home and eat, and sleep and let the memory of Pere Lachaise haunt him. He had to find a way to avenge Leta—

Thud.

“For Merlin’s sake Max, stop generating more work and just go home...”  Theseus screamed while scribbling and when he looked up to see the scattered piles of paper, he saw no one there. Feeling stupid on his antics and thanking that he was alone, he tried to refocus. However, he couldn’t. He put down his quill and tried to reach for his coffee. It spilled all over his papers.

“This evening could not get any worse... tergeo” with another wave of wand he put away all his papers, took his bag, opened the door and locked it, determined to go home and take some rest. Now he regretted his frequency of consuming coffee which will make him stay wide awake.

At the same time, he was made terribly aware of himself and the silence and utter solitude around him. Each step he took magnified and came to his ears like some demented dying heartbeat. As if he was alone in the world, the only human cursed to walk in his wretched world that had stripped away everything from him. The slopey rails took him further and further down to the landing, now gleaming darkly as the dying lights slowly tossed themselves against the black marbles. The golden bars of the lift glowed dimly with the pallor of dead bones, which in fact surprised him. He always thought them beautiful, but now they did not.

He walked towards the right hand side corridor, towards the Department of Mysteries. It looks like it was one floor down from the Auror Office, but it was not. The illusive architecture always amazed him and always amused Maxine; she called the illusion of the floor ‘like a screw’, winding upwards and winding downwards at the same time.

He smiled on his own, as he trotted through the dark corridor, doors after doors passing like some avoided and neglected people on a depraved street. Then at one point he stopped, he stopped at the Door of Archives, where from the inception of the Ministry, every person is documented and kept behind the locked doors. On the opposite was the interrogation room; where convicts are brought for questioning, and curiously enough, interviews took place. The first time Theseus entered those doors after entering the ministry, was as one of the directors in the Interview board. After a boring set of interviews, entered a willowy and pale woman, whose sharp black eyes and slit smile announced that she was no ordinary woman

“Tell us about yourself...” Travers asked her and Theseus was noting everything down on his clipboard, mainly about her body language.

‘Tall, attractive, very French... ’

‘I am Maxine Valois, I graduated Hogwarts in the summer of 1912, and I grant myself proficient in all the qualities you require for an Auror.’

‘Late-comer, desperate, trying to conceal insecurities with confident voice’

“Excellent... now, if your testimony is correct and so is your records, you’ve been graduated about eleven years ago.” Travers asked, “May I ask why you delayed yourself from reaching out?”

“With all respect sir, I said I graduated Hogwarts at the summer of 1912, that doesn’t conclude that I have pulled a curtain upon my studies, now does it?” said she with amusement “I was out and about around the world, studying and researching, and when my inheritance of some few thousand galleons were at exhaustion I decided that it was an end for my academic pursuits.”

Theseus scratched out the last sentence and scribbled ‘Possibly formidable candidate, intelligent, little on the over-confident side, has a way with words, less likely to follow authorities,’

“What kind of studies were you pursuing...?” Travers asked with curiosity and a sense of annoyance that sounded to Theseus’ ears as a mockery.

“I am not really obliged to disclose that here because I have sworn secrecy with the institutions about the lessons I received...” said Maxine.

Theseus scribbled ‘Emphasis on arrogant, likely to fail for angering Travers.’

“Why is that?”

“I have paid visits most of the Wizarding schools in the world, you can ask them individually if you want. Nothing shall escape my lips”

‘Bordering on insufferable,’

“Thank you Miss Valois you shall be called--”

“You cannot cast me out like this.” Maxine said calmly and Theseus looked up from his paper to look at her face. The level of audacity was just too unimaginable for him and later he understood that he was on the same page with everyone about this interviewee. There was no sign of fear, arrogance or sneer on her face. The calm demeanour signified that she knew what she was talking about and it made Theseus look straight across her face, but only for so long. There was a dazzling sharpness in those angled black eyes that made the beholder lower their sight after a few moments.

“Why do you think that we do not have that kind of power” said Travers, laughing “because we at this side of the table have every power to cast you out as you like.”

“You misunderstand me sir...” Maxine continued with her serene voice “British ministry is getting weaker and weaker every moment, you see, this little Island is not only detached from Europe but also the rest of the world where the recruitments are better, stricter and more efficient. You see, your inefficient policy with wizards and non-wizards have made you vulnerable against the extremists and right now most powerful wizards in the country are rallying against you. If I walk out of this and send a word, most powerful anti-British ministries will jump on the bandwagon of recruiting me, and I would rather be on this side than on the other side of massacre and extremism... if you think I am lying or bluffing, the fourth page of my Curriculum Vitae can testify to that.”

Theseus and Travers, out of curiosity peered to the page Maxine mentioned and a shining golden badge on a piece of silk paper was encrusted. Maxine, understanding that they cannot read the language, pointed her wand towards them and softly uttered in an unfamiliar language.

“This Award of Golden Robe and of Five Seals goes to Miss Maxine Valois, By Japanese Wizarding Congress. She is hereby awarded an honorary member of Society of Eurasian Magical Corporation and is hereby granted a full permission to take citizenship and work on Japanese soil”*

The men could not speak for some times, and then suddenly Travers looked at her “that is indeed an impressive feat. To be able to acquire such a position in an ultra-homogeneous community” Said he and started to counsel amongst his fellow board members. After some painful minutes and questioning stares the verdict was passed.

“And we will be glad to have you here on the British Ministry.”

“Thank you sir... I am most delighted” Maxine stood up and shook his hands.

After all the interviews, when the selections were being done, there was a time when Maxine’s names was announced. Theseus was astound at the frivolity of the minds of men in power; those openly displayed disapproval were now fighting over that single girl who had outwitted them. He remembered how the interview board turned into the fights of Juries in Wizengamot. He quietly observed how the Head Aurors practically jumped on each other. Not even Theseus knew what was going to happen in the next moment.

“Sirs...“ boomed Theseus, standing up, “with all due respect, I think your fight is nothing more than redundant.“

“What is the meaning of this Mr. Scamander?“ Damon Yaxley roared, “just because you have won the war, doesn’t make you decider of our fates...“

“Why would I try to decide your fates Sirs, I am an Auror... I destroy my enemies, like you all.“ and with him all the interview board started to laugh with him “all I am asking that I should have that Franco-English girl as my intern and subordinate.“

“Sorry m’boy, but I think you are a little too young to decide to that“ answered Archturius Black, and Theseus replied, suppressing the heated insult “and you Mr. Black, is too old for that.“ and the board laughed again

“Sirs... not only my department is short stuffed and suffering, but also compromised most aurors in the field than yours. I am only asking a fair recruit. Besides, don’t I deserve that for winning the war?“ Theseus smiled and sat down, because he knew the game was his when no one spoke against him anymore. He too was surprised of himself... he never thought he would be this desperate.

Theseus smiled at that memory and for a good reason. It was the pivotal step of their relationship, he as the boss and she as the intern. And soon from fetching papers and carrying out notices, that belated intern became an inseparable member of Theseus’ team. Soon Travers started ordering Theseus to take her into important missions, carrying out espionages and surveillance jobs, and her promotion rate was going upwards so steeply that she was soon the Assistant General on Theseus’ team, working alongside him in the same office. Of course he never told her what he did to the entire Law Enforcement team to get her. The Scamander-Valois team was unbeatable, until that time...

It was almost six months ago...

He was preparing for departing to Paris with Leta and his team, Travers had a big row with Maxine as she thought the operation will be a great failure. Terrified more than excited, Theseus was coming out of the archive room after inspecting some papers. After closing the door, he saw Leta in front of him, equally terrified as him and sad.

“Leta... we will be fine” Theseus tried to console her, but she didn’t budge; the thought of dead Corvus Lestrange always plagued her. Theseus took her into his arms, lifted her face and embraced her lips into his. Leta understood that, Theseus always tries to console her at both physical and psychological planes, but sometimes when he finds himself at loss of words, he lets his affections physically manifest and radiates on to others. Each time he connected himself physically with Leta he felt an unknown fulfilment, and Leta allowed him that.

In his moment of satisfaction, his ken picked up another face, gleaming at the dark at the side. He broke his kiss with Leta and looked at the person.

“Max...” he unconsciously wiped his lips and spoke hoarsely and unsteadily. Maxine on the other hand, looked like her usual self; Theseus cleared his voice and said “what you’re doing here?”

“I am sorry to interrupt your meeting but Travers is calling for you...” Maxine informed; and was attempting to leave the place, but Leta stopped her. Her hand reached her high shoulder gently and she waited for Maxine to turn, “Maxine I am sorry that you could not join us.”

“It’s okay...” Maxine asserted before even Leta could finish, “Besides, dictators, social climbers and brainless whiners seems to be the order of day. Someone needs to keep their heads in the right place” Maxine added with her usual twisted smirk, “and um... that dress seems to be a little on the drinking party side than ‘I am visiting my brother’s tomb’ side--”

“Maxine...” Theseus’ voice concealed an alarm in that hushed tone.

“However, who am I to judge, I am not the only French here right?” a cruel smile graced on her lips.

Theseus could take no more, he took a few stepped forwards, “Stop it” he hissed at Maxine, whose expression looked unaffected and almost bored. She turned her face towards Leta, “so bon chance on your failed mission and do let me know how many of you gets compromised--” after a sneer and a wink, she clacked away.

Leta prevented Theseus from chasing her back and shook her head in the indication that Theseus should not speak about this fiasco and cause a ruckus. As Leta left to join Travers, Theseus chased right after Maxine. He could feel the skin under his collar heating up with every step he took. Blood pounded in his ears. As he slammed his office door open, he saw Maxine there, organising papers. She turned towards him as if it was another day in the office, but it only did so to infuriate Theseus even more. He forcefully turned her towards himself and his face, by this time looked like he had murdered someone.

“Why are you like this Maxine, Why?” Theseus bellowed, “Your attitude was beneath you. I can overlook your petty pranks here and there but that... that was unforgivable. You behaved like a mean schoolgirl with her and I am disappointed in you.”

“Beneath me?” Maxine asked unemotionally, “you claim to understand what is beneath or above me? Stop sounding so noble Theseus, you sound like those imbecile chevals.”* She tried to walk off from the conversation by brushing the topic lightly but Theseus wasn’t having any. He again turned out towards her “yes I do.” He said with heat “You behaved improperly today, and not to mention you have hurt Leta beyond the limit. All the ministry employees know that Corvus Lestrange is a forbidden topic--”

“By your orders it is then? Merlin when I came to this place I had to work so much harder despite my academic qualification and she, didn’t even had six months is getting treated like a queen. I wonder how far she went in your--”

“SHE IS MY FIANCEE MISS VALOIS AND YOU WILL DO WELL TO SPEAK WITH HER WITH DECENCY.” Theseus took a few steps back and turned on his heel and walked away. For a brief moment he saw the dazzling black eyes moistened, but he was too proud to stand there.

The memory hit him hard. He stopped at his tracks and leaned on the wall; the same wall where it all started. That incident that never really got resolved even though things got back to normal after the days. Whenever he tried to apologise, Maxine would ignore it or veer the conversation otherwise. Sometimes he thought she leaving Ministry and joining as Newt’s assistant was a big prank on its own; why argue through your job and literally throw it away for animal scutwork?—he will never understand that, and sometimes just thinking about all those mismatching things gave him a headache.

Nothing makes sense anymore these days.

...

‘‘Maîtresse... maîtresse...’ a wheezy voice woke Maxine up in the middle of the night. Rubbing her eyes, she breathed sharply and sat up on her bed. There was still some streetlight left in the street that could permeate through the still and transparent linen curtain.

“What?” Maxine exclaimed angrily and the elf turned on the bedside lamp, “it’s two thirty in the morning, I told you unless someone is dying on my doorsteps do not disturb--”

“It is a man maitresse… ” Lampito answered fearfully, “he introduced himself as Scamander… he is asking for you maitresse, and he is not well.”

Maxine’s face hardened and a trace of worry in her sleepy eyes appeared like a thin curtain “Barbe de Mer…” she almost jumped out of the bed, throwing herself only her blush colored dressing-gown. The time she entered her sitting room, she saw a tall brunet man in tweed suit lolling on her chaise with his face down towards the floor. His hand lolled at one side and it seemed like all the blood in his body was drained. Maxine rushed towards her chaise and straightened him to see his face.

“Theseus--” she whispered, but it was unlike anything she ever known that barely resembled ‘Theseus Scamander’. His face was red and lulled to a drunken stupor. Traces of vomit crusted around his lips and jaw, and some even soiled his shoulder. Maxine covered her nose and pointed the wand to siphon the dirt of his body and face, and indignantly looked at her chaise, if something has been dirtied or not.

“This chaise cost me six hundred galleons… direct from Provence too…” Maxine exasperated, “I wonder what gotten into him to do this. Lampito…” she turned to the elf “go make Monsieur Scamander some tall espresso and fetch all the sausages and eggs we have. For now, get me a glass of milk. Levicorpus…” Maxine lifted Theseus up on air and kicked off the door of her study, to prop him on the fainting couch; no way will she let a drunken man into her bedroom.

She laid him on his side first, loosened his shoes, necktie and got rid of the blazer and the waistcoat. She gave them all to the elf and ordered them to wash it. With all the changes of position and possible rise of discomfort, Theseus started to groan as a response of being moved.

“Okay you schmuck…” Maxine propped his head as gently as possible. It was a strenuous job to lay him comfortably on the cushion because not only he was a foot taller and weighed at least 40 pounds more than Maxine, but he was also an exceptionally difficult person in his intoxicated self. Maxine tried hard to hold the head close but not too close to her chest, the fluttering of her neckline due to Theseus’ groaning and breathing was unnerving already. After an agonizing struggle when she finally managed to lay his head on the pillow, he jolted up and another wave of projectile vomit ensued, spewing everywhere.

As much as Maxine wanted to scream at Theseus and bash his skull in the walls for ruining her Victorian couch and Chinese watersilk, she felt an uncommon pity towards him that she never knew before. Siphoning every speck of sick, she knelt beside him as he groaned feverishly. His dry, puce lips mumbled something so low that Maxine had to bring her ears to his lips to listen.

“Forgive me…. Leta… I couldn’t save you… I am sorry… so sorry”

“Oh you fool…” Maxine whispered to herself, “stop blaming yourself for her death… it wasn’t your fault” her small voice shook, “you cannot carry the whole burden of the world… stop being such an imbecile Cheval… ” Maxine put her hand on his forehead reluctantly after contemplating against doing it, and stroked him gently and surely. She felt terrible seeing someone who had always been superior to her broken into pieces like this. Not even in her worst nightmare she would have imagined that Theseus would do something like this. Even the day when she quit, he seemed fine and alright. Personally she blamed herself a little for this state of Theseus; after all she was the Vice Head of his team, working alongside him day and night. She could have understood it—but she failed.

People say it’s the woman who are difficult to get a read on, but what about men like him, who suppress their emotions to such a point that it breaks them from within?

“please don’t leave me… pleas--”

“Maitresse…” Maxine startled into life and looked at the back, Lampito was standing with a glass of milk, “you wanted it for Monsieur Scamander”

Maxine stood up hastily, rearranging her robe a little, “feed him, and check on him every hour…” she walked towards the door.

“Maitresse, are you alright?” Lampito asked in a puzzled voice.“Yes…” she turned towards the elf and smiled with a small manner, “I am just tired.”

Tags: @my-current-fandom-is

In this chapter I wanted to explore a bit with the dynamics of Maxine and Theseus. They were former colleagues and I have hinted that things weren’t entirely platonic. From whose side it was more, I will leave it to you. At this point you can see, Maxine has totally different dynamics with Newt and Theseus. 

The French subtitles were getting cumbersome, so I added the translation right there. But some words here and there are added in the footnote.

Baroque: I have mentioned that quite often. Baroque is a style of architecture, music, and fashion that is emotional, overtly religious and ornamental. It was famous form late 17th to late 18th century. This is also the period when French Aristocracy died (French Revolution : 1789), so I thought that an old French Pureblood family, such as the Valois will try to hold onto that ‘good old days’. Here is an example how ‘Baroque’ looks like:

Signet Ring: a family jewel worn as a ring on the little finger by European aristocratic males (the eldest son, the Paterfamilias). It usually bears the Family crest, and passed down generation after generation. Here is the sample Baroque signet ring worn by the Last French Monarch, Louis XVI, crested with Fleur de Lis

Valois: French for “From the Valley”, it was a very famous Aristocratic house in France, and for several centuries, they assumed the French Throne.

Quin: a Slang for Vagina

Maitresse: French for “Mistress”

Barbe de Mer: French for “Merlin’s beard”, however, Maxine shortens Merlin into “Mer”, French for the sea, also signifying “Beard of the Sea” or tumultuous waves.

Fainting couch : a couch in the Victorian household where women who were sick, fainting or both used to lay down.

Cheval: french for “horse”, metaphorically signifying Cheveliers (knights).

[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 19

Read Ch. 18 | Masterlist

No spoilers and just a filler chapter while the canon part of the storyline focused on the League of Villains. Also, please note some of the things I’ve written in this chapter are not 100% accurate when it comes to animal behaviour. It’s just bits and pieces I’ve put together from reading some books and watching TV shows.

After the excitement of the Culture Festival died down, U.A. was back to their regularly scheduled classes and quirk training. Just like the first years, the second years were also enduring intensive training in mastering their quirks. Having had her bangles damaged from the raid fight, Ren focused on strengthening her quirk and physical strength more while the Support Department was fixing them.

She had two goals: One, double the distance of her teleport radius and two, arrive at her destination faster. She’s noticed she has a 1-second delay when she uses Flicker due to her reaction time. But thanks to her late night training sessions with Bakugou, Kirishima and Todoroki, her reflexes have exponentially improved, thus shaving off her teleport time to half a second.

“Is it just me or have you gotten faster lately?” Ito panted out and wiped some sweat off of his chin.

“Maybe. You’ve gotten stronger too,” she complimented and noted the cut on the sleeve of her gym uniform.

Ito Kaede’s quirk was Sharpen, where he can transform his limbs into really sharp knives.

“I recently got a better whetstone,” he joked and readied himself to attack again.

Once class finished, they slowly filed back to the main campus for class. As Ren walked on with Tomoe and Seri, she noticed a lot of people looking in their direction.

“What’s with the eyes?” she casually remarked.

“Your reputation must be getting around school from the show,” Tomoe assumed.

“Everyone else’s performance was amazing too.”

“That is true. I have had a few from the support and general studies department confess to me already,” Seri casually added. “But of course, I’ve rejected them all.”

“As expected of the Heartbreaker,” Ren off-handedly remarked with a smirk and shoved her hands into her blazer pockets.

“What ‘bout you, Ren-Ren? Have anyone come up to you yet?” Tomoe asked out of curiosity.

“Of course not,” she abruptly answered as if it was obvious. “I’d ask them to examine their heads if they ever found me attractive.”

“But you are quite adorable, Ren-Ren,” Seri replied. “I’d date you.”

“Aw that’s sweet.”

The pink-haired girl draped her arm around Seri’s shoulder and pecked her on the cheek.

“Hey what about me?” Tomoe pointed to herself. “You’re hurtin’ me here, sweets.”

“You’re a close second,” their owl friend deadpanned.

“Ouch, sloppy seconds,” Ren playfully commented. “Unfortunate, friend.”

“Oh piss off. I’m a fuckin’ catch.”

The three laughed aloud as they headed back into class for lessons. The chill in the air brought Ren’s mind drifting like a leaf in the wind. So much has happened these past few months even though it felt like years.

She never expected to get along so well with 1-A, thinking their relationship would be your typical senpai-kouhai one, but it was the exact opposite. Ren saw them as her equals in ability and mental strength.

They really will be the shining generation of heroes after U.A.

“So the thing with Togata-senpai the other night,” Seri casually brought up. “What was with that hug?”

“Just Mirio-senpai doin’ his thing as usual, I guess.” She huffed a surprised chuckle and lightly shrugged. “You’d think after knowing him for this long, he’d run out of surprises.”

“You don’t think there’s a chance he may–”

“Nope.” She confidently confirmed. “He’s got a lot going on right now. Last thing he needs is to be in a relationship with someone.”

“Are you saying that to convince yourself or…?” Tomoe questioned, making Ren slowly turn back with a hint of annoyance.

“I got my closure. It’s all sorted out.”

All Tomoe and Seri could do was exchange dubious glances at one another.

As classes ended for the day, Ren bundled herself into her self-made red infinity scarf to keep the chill away while walking back to Heights Alliance. Looking down at her accessory, she saw a stray piece of yarn unraveling. Glaring down at it with a sense of compulsion, she rubbed the fabric between her index and thumb.

“I should fix this.”

Dinner tonight was beef stew in the 1-A dorms. Ren asked Bakugou and Iida to help with the prep work, much to the former’s complaints. Soon after, the whole floor was engulfed with a sense of warmth and aroma from the stew. The stomachs of everyone growled loudly, as if begging the chef to hurry up and finish cooking. With their appetites satiated, Ren sat down in the common area with some of the students. Jiro casually glanced over at her phone’s lock screen.

“Ren, who’s the dog?” the earphone jack girl asked. “It’s adorable.”

“Oh, that’s Skye*.”

She turned her screen to give her a better look, with a few other students piling over Jiro’s shoulder to see.

“Aw, she’s so cute!” Hagakure squealed. “So floofy!”

“She was the best dog...” Ren trailed off with a sad smile. “I still miss her.”

“Oh that’s right… you mentioned she passed away,” Yaoyorozu said with regret. “Have you and your mother thought about getting another one?”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to the dog. My mom already works crazy hours and I’m here,” she reasoned. “They’d be too lonely.”

“You really love dogs, don’t you senpai?” Uraraka gushed with a matching smile.

“All animals are pure and good in this world. We don’t deserve them,” she firmly stated.

Sunday quietly crept up and for once, Ren was free to leisurely do what she wanted. Looking at her hung up scarf on the wall hook, she was going to go off campus for some shopping. Having already gone through the proper steps in getting permission to leave, she put on a long, thick white and gray stripped sweater dress with skinny jeans and grabbed her leather jacket from the closet and the rest of her accessories to stay as warm as she can. 

Closing the door to her room, she went to the elevator and pressed the call button for it. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a familiar bi-colour haired boy already inside and greeted one another. He was wearing a tweed jacket with a black turtleneck. His bottoms were casual slacks.

“Heading out today, senpai?” he asked.

“I gotta get something in town. You?”

“I’m going to visit my mom at the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Her concern grew with a matching expression. “Is she okay?”

“Ah, yeah. It’s just...” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “It’s complicated.”

“Gotcha.”

A mild, tense silence filled the elevator ride. It was Todoroki who broke it.

“Would you… like to come with?” 

Ren glanced up at the tall boy with surprise.

“To the hospital?”

“Y-yeah… Unless you don’t want to,” he stuttered out.

“Where is it?”

“It’s the private hospital in Musutafu.”

“If you don’t mind me tagging along, sure. It’s along the way for me.”

Heading out of the dorms together, they put their shoes on and exited. Ren readjusted her scarf and hat as the condensation from her breath escaped the wintry airs. One of the pro-heroes assigned as a chaperone to the train station rendezvous at the school’s entrance. Dropping them off at the nearest block due to traffic, the two U.A. students hopped on the train in silence. About thirty minutes later, they arrived at their station and got off.

“It’s getting cold fast,” she shivered and bundled her hands into her jacket pockets. Her shoulders shrugged up the moment they left the station. “You must be okay in weather like this with your quirk, right?”

“I guess…” Todoroki shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it much.”

After a short ten minute walk, they arrived to the hospital. A gush of warm air welcomed the two newcomers. They entered the elevator and he pressed the button for the designated floor. Other nurses and doctors filed in, pressing their respective destinations. The pink-haired girl removed her hat as she quietly followed a few steps behind the dual-hair colored boy after they got to their floor.

They passed a sign on the wall reading “Psych Ward.”

Ren couldn’t help but feel a mixture of loneliness, yearning and comfort coming from him during the commute. Just what happened in his childhood that made him into who he is? She wanted to ask, but felt it wasn’t her place to. Sure, they were friends and got along well with one another, but the blurred lines of where she stood with him made her hesitate in taking that step forward.

He stopped at the entrance to his mom’s room and looked at Ren, whose eyes were currently downcast at the floor.

“Senpai, are you okay?” he asked with worry, jolting her head up and out of her thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah. I’m good,” she responded and flashed a quick smile. “I’ll… wait out here for you.”

“I’m sure my mother wouldn’t mind meeting you,” he softly replied with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and opened the door. He entered and greeted the person inside. Taking quick deep breaths, she slowly followed him into a brightly lit room. A woman with snow white hair like Todoroki’s right half sat by the window, looking up at her son and smiling. Her gaze then went to Ren’s.

“Oh hello,” she warmly greeted. “And who may you be?”

“A-ah, I’m Takahiro Ren,” she introduced and stiffly bowed like Iida. “I’m currently class 1-A’s resident advisor and a second year at U.A. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, you’re Shouto’s senpai? And here I thought you were his girlfriend,” she replied in a motherly manner and chuckled. Ren immediately sucked in a quick breath as a tint of pink dyed the apples of her cheeks.

“We both happen to be headed the same way and he asked me to join him,” Ren politely explained, feeling the nervous sweat exude from her palms. Todoroki’s mom’s pale and thin hand gestured her to sit down on to the empty seat next to her son, to which she did rigidly out of nervousness.

“I got your letters, Shouto,” his mom told her son. “How have your provisional classes been going?”

“They’re tough, but I’m learning a lot.”

“The final test is coming up soon, yes?”

He nodded.

“It’ll be around December,” he confirmed.

“Well, Takahiro-san,” Mrs. Todoroki addressed the R.A. and placed a gentle hand on top of her son’s head. “Please take good care of my son. He’s very bright and talented, but sometimes he has trouble asking for help.”

“He’s been making good progress, so I don’t think you have much to worry about,” Ren endorsed with confidence, making the boy look down bashfully. A small sense of warmth bloomed in his chest. “Todoroki-kun will definitely get his license and he’ll be a hero you can be proud of.”

Mrs. Todoroki gave her a beaming smile and replied, “I’m already proud of my son.”

The three talk for a bit longer before heading out. Ren bowed once more before leaving the room with the younger Todoroki following.

“You’re the first person other than my siblings to see my mom,” he revealed. “Thank you… for coming with me.”

“You’re the one who invited me,” she quietly replied, still surprised by what he jus said. “I should be thanking you.”

The two teenagers walked on with their quiet footsteps echoing in the corridor.

“Your mom... She’s really kind,” she finally spoke up. “And she looks well.”

“The doctors said she’s been making good progress due to her hard work.”

“I’m sure your visits are helping with her recovery too.”

Todoroki stopped in his steps and turned to give Ren a grateful smile.

“I hope so.”

The two exited the hospital and back into the cold. The strong wind blew at their faces, making Ren squeeze her eyes close with an extremely displeased expression.

“I wanna drink hot chocolate and eat all the warm things,” she groaned out.

“I know a place,” Todoroki suggested. “It’s a bit of a walk though.”

“Anywhere is fine but outside,” she shivered and placed her hands in her underarms.

“You really can’t deal with the cold, can you?” he teased with a smirk.

“I’m rather sensitive to it,” she revealed and adjusted her scarf to minimize skin exposure. “Flicker’s lag gets worse in extreme weather conditions.”

“Lag?”

“The time between I can react to get from point A to B.”

She froze and blinked dumbly, realizing she let slip of one of her weaknesses.

“Interesting,” Todoroki remarked and placed the knuckle of his index finger to his chin.

“You’re gonna use it against me in sparring, aren’t you?” Ren flatly asked, already knowing the answer.

“Maybe.”

“’Maybe’, he says,” she mocked and huffed a breath.

Realizing the walk was a lot longer than anticipated, Todoroki looked down to his left at Ren’s bundled form. The lower half of her face was buried into her red scarf, shoulders shrugged up with her hands in her pockets. Her white breath could be seen floating up into the air. She looked miserable.

While waiting at a walk light, he casually placed his left hand under her scarf and let a small amount of controlled heat from his palm at the back of her neck. He could feel the tense muscles from her shoulders loosen up as she gradually brought them down.

Noticing the sudden warmth around her neck, Ren glanced up at the duo-quirk user staring straight on nonchalantly and noticed the wrist of his left arm draped on her shoulder. She leaned into his hand a bit and smiled to herself underneath her scarf. The light turned green for the pedestrians. The two followed foot traffic all the while Todoroki kept his hand stationary and walked beside her to keep her warm. After a few twists and turns into streets and the two reached their destination.

It was a dog cafe.

Before she could say anything, the boy took her by the wrist and guided her inside. She looked around in amazement to see the brightly lit space with white paneled walls decorated with dog themed items, from mugs to t-shirts to treats. One of the store staff greeted the two and seated them before handing them two menus: one of which was a standard food menu, the other was a dog menu where they can choose which four-legged companion to keep you company.

The two removed their jackets and accessories to settle in. The warmth from Todoroki’s hand slowly seeped away from her neck upon removing her scarf. But before Ren could even ask anything, her friend immediately answered.

“I overheard your conversation about your dog the other day,” he began. “And I looked up nearby dog cafes to take you to. As I was about to ask if you were free this weekend, it just worked out that you were headed out to town today since I had to visit my mom.”

“Wow.” She blinked a few times in amazement. “And everything went according to your plan.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“But why would you go out of your way to do this?” she asked out of genuine curiosity.

He paused for a short moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“You sounded so sad… when you were talking about your dog,” he shyly mumbled out, not knowing what was coming out of his mouth right now. “I guess, this is my way of thanking you… for helping me through my stuff and lending me your shoulder.”

His eyes quickly shifted down to the menu, which was very appealing for a distraction right now. He brought his right hand up and rested his fingers on his nose bridge, trying to hide his oncoming blush. Not knowing what to say, Ren picked up the dog menu and stared intently at a random spot on it, biting her lower lip.

Moments later, the server returned to their table, asking if they were ready to order. She took this chance to ask about the dogs as a way to distract herself from the awkwardness.

“Is it possible for me to go in and let the dog pick me instead? Of course, with one of your staff members supervising.”

“Unfortunately, only staff are allowed back there,” he regretfully replied. “While I do understand your logic, it’s for safety reasons.”

“No, no. I get it,” she replied with a tone of understanding.

“But I could let you see the dogs through the window instead,” the server suggested as a halfway happy option.

Ren’s eyes lit up with joy and practically leaped out of her seat with Todoroki in tow by his wrist. The server brought them to the window and several dogs could be seen in the room; some were playing while others were chilling out and napping. She couldn’t help but gush at the adorable fluff balls of joy. Then she spotted a gray and white colored poodle-maltese mix in the far corner sitting on its own, watching three dogs tugging at a toy with each other.

“That one in the corner, please,” she requested.

“Ah, Hiroki is… a bit problematic,” the server nervously said. “We’ve been having trouble socializing him and doesn’t seem interested in anything.”

“I can help with that,” she confidently stated. “Can you put me in a room with him? With a staff member for supervision, of course.”

“Senpai, what do you intend to do?” Todoroki asked.

“Skye was the same way when we adopted her,” Ren softly answered. “She came from a home where the owners neglected her and didn’t trust humans because of it. It took a while to coax her out of her shell.”

“I’ll talk to my supervisor and see what they can do,” the staff obliged.

Moments later, the supervisor came up to talk to Ren about procedure, to which she fully understood. If the dog was to show any sort of aggression at her, they would step in. Ren and Todoroki slowly entered and closed the door behind them. Some of the other dogs came up to give them a smell and jumped up on their leg, wanting to play. Hiroki, however, looked at them passively.

Taking a few steps in, she sat down by the wall with him following suit.

“So… what do we do now?” he asked.

“We wait. Hiroki needs to approach first so we don’t scare him.”

She took out a bag of treats given by the staff. All of the dog’s ears, including Hiroki’s, perked up upon hearing the crinkle of plastic.

“Oh, you want one don’t you?” she coaxed and broke off a few small pieces of biscuit to chuck in various directions. When one piece landed nearby the anti-social pooch, the dog sniffed and accepted it. She threw another piece at him and turned her attention to Todoroki.

“Thanks for warming me up on the way here.” She gave him a soft smile, ignoring the dog for a moment. Some of the friendlier ones circled them and sat nearby the two for attention. The two teenagers gave them casual pets on their heads.

“We can’t have you catching a cold with final exams coming up,” he passively answered.

“Your flames… They’re different from your dad’s,” she suddenly let out.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s kind and radiates life. It’s… gentle and comforting.”

She turned her attention back to the dog, who was now staring intently in their direction with his tail wagging with curiosity. Breaking off another piece of biscuit, she threw it in a different direction, with the dogs pattering after it.

What Ren didn’t notice was the look of surprise on Todoroki’s face. The left side he’s hated for so long because of its constant reminder of his dad was… gentle?

“Why do you say these things?” He looked down at his strained left hand. “This fire isn’t kind. It’s...”

“It’s kind because you are,” she interrupted his train of thought.

He looked up with glistening hetero-chromatic eyes into Ren’s tender hazel-green ones. As her hand started reaching up to touch his scar, the attention suddenly shifted when she felt something crawl up her leg; it was Hiroki grabbing the remaining piece of biscuit in her hand. Succeeding in his mission, he splayed out on her lap and gnawed on the treat, getting crumbs all over in the process.

“I knew you’d come around,” she looked down at the dog and drew her attention back.

He remained on her lap even after finishing the treat. She slowly brought her left hand up in the form of a loose fist up to his nose. Hiroki gave it a lazy sniff and licked her knuckles a few times. She stayed this way until the pup got impatient and started pawing at her hand to pet him.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you,” she cooed out in between chuckles and gently scratched under his chin. “Just needed some patience and love, didn’tcha?”

Todoroki could only look on stunned and in amazement. She was able to entice this dog who everyone was afraid to approach to its current state. Ren looked back up at him with a smile.

“Give me your hand.”

He absentmindedly reached his right out into her palm, to which she gently cupped it into a loose fist. She then brought it down slowly near Hiroki’s nose, to which he got curious about and crawled over to inspect the new limb. The dog’s cold and wet nose on Todoroki’s knuckle made his muscles jolt a little from the touch, but soon got used to it.

He eventually lost interest and went back to Ren for more pets and cuddles.

“I don’t think he likes me,” the boy dejectedly assumed.

“Not necessarily. He’s got your scent and doesn’t think you’re a threat, is all,” she reassured.

“But he’s all over you.”

“Because I have treats.”

Watching her play with the dog some more, it was then he realized how at peace she looked. He discreetly took his phone out and snapped a candid photo of her smiling with Hiroki on her chest licking her chin. Upon hearing the sound of the shutter, she immediately turned to him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Delete that. Right now,” she flatly demanded.

“Nope. It’ll be my keepsake.”

“Then I’ll just have to snap pictures of you,” she suggested. “I think that’s a fair trade.”

“If you can even manage to,” Todoroki challenged.

She cocked one eyebrow at him with a smirk.

“Oh you’re on, peppermint,” she teased and stood up holding Hiroki in her arms. The supervisor was amazed at how she handled the dog and the two got into conversation about how to train him moving forward. Moments later, they found themselves back at the table they were seated with their new friend in tow.

They finally managed to order lunch and played with Hiroki until it came. At one point, Ren dropped the animal into Todoroki’s lap and neither one knew what to do with each other. After watching how she picked him up, his successful attempt to hold the furry beast made her snicker as she snapped a picture. He merely stuttered when he heard the shutter go off, only to have her snap a few more for good measure. The look on his blushing face being caught off guard was priceless.

“This is so gonna be your caller ID on my phone,” she laughed as she was setting it.

“Senpai,” he quivered out, still holding Hiroki stiffly. “Please delete it.”

“Only if you delete mine.”

“I refuse.”

“Then I refuse too.” She flashed an arrogant smirk at him. “You challenged the wrong girl, Todoroki.”

One of the staff members assisted him with Hiroki as they served them food while another brought a high chair for the dog to sit with them. Wiping their hands with the wet naps given, they dug into their lunch as their puppy friend munched on some kibble. Ren took her mug of hot chocolate and brought it to her nose, enjoying the aroma.

Then came the shutter sound from across the table, followed with a glower from her.

“It’s like that huh?”

“It’s like that,” Todoroki taunted.

What was supposed to be a relaxing time turned into a competition of who can snap the most candids of one another. They called a truce the moment they got one of each other with whipped cream on the tips of their respective noses from the hot chocolate and laughed. The moment the check came, it was an all out war settled with janken, to which Ren lost yet again. Todoroki ended up paying in full, something he intended to from the start.

But beating her made the victory that much better.

“One day, I’ll win,” she declared. “I can’t be bad at janken forever.”

“I wish you would so I can keep winning against you,” the boy teased as they exited the cafe.

The wind greeted them with a cool whip of biting chill, making Ren groan into her scarf. The two made their way back to the main street and walked a bit further to find themselves entering small a yarn store.

“Senpai, you knit?”

“It’s one of the many things I picked up when I was younger to relax from my ‘other hobby’,” she explained while looking over the yarn selections. “Plus, it saves me money in having to buy overpriced sweaters in department stores.”

She found a roll of yarn that was the perfect shade of peach pink and placed two into her basket before moving on.

“What are you thinking of making?” Todoroki asked and looked around the store casually.

“Something for Eri-chan.”

“Eri-chan?”

“The little girl who was with Mirio-senpai during the festival,” she reminded. “I want to make her something warm this winter.”

A peaceful smile graced her lips as she looked at the other selections of yarn. After wandering for another moment, she got all she needed and paid. Exiting the store, they looked up at the sky painted a fiery orange with clouds floating on as the sun decided to call it an early day and retire. As they were a few blocks near the train station, a sudden explosion rocked the peace away. Pedestrians started screaming and running from the commotion. Ren and Todoroki looked at each other and ran to it.

It was a small apartment building that was smashed in with a big and burly low rank looking villain standing not too far away laughing manically. He then turned around and that’s when she saw it: the black tongue and blood-shot eyes.

He was on a quirk-booster.

They were on a narrow street, which wasn’t optimal for Todoroki’s quirks since it may damage surrounding buildings. And with her bangles still being repaired, she had to fight with her abilities and quirk alone.

“Todo-kun, assist with the rescue of the victims in the building. I’ll fight,” she instructed as she placed her shopping bag down. “Let’s make this quick.”

“But–”

“Did you forget I have my license? As long as you’re with me, you’re fine.”

She ran on ahead and teleported up to the roof of the closest building while Todoroki used his ice to travel on and to put out the fire.

“It’s the villain’s time to shine!” the man cackled out as a heavy heel drop landed right on his skull by Ren. She zipped away to a safer distance. The man was barely stunned and looked at her with menacing eyes.

“Oh, let’s play, little girl.”

“Shove it, bowling ball.”

Going on the offensive, she went for a frontal attack and landed a hard punch to his stomach, throwing him back only a few steps.

He laughed again and taunted, “That’s all you got?! Even mosquitoes hit harder than that.”

The rotund man charged and swung a fist at her. Due to her current lag from the cold, she barely managed to dodge on time and got away with a few scrapes on the sleeves of her jacket and face. From her peripheral, a stream of ice traveled down the street and encased the villain’s left leg before landing on the balls of her feet.

“I’ve double checked the building and made sure there it was empty,” he caught her up with the situation. “What about him?”

“He’s on boosters,” Ren updated her partner. The villain growled as he struggled to free his leg against the ice. “Keep holding him down. I’m going up.”

“Got it.”

Not letting her guard down, she remained on the attack and zipped up into the sky while the bi-hair coloured boy released more of his ice, now trapping both his legs to distract the criminal. Free falling to build up momentum, she somersaulted and finished the villain off with a heavy stomp to his abdomen and wedged him into the pavement.

He heaved out his stomach contents onto his person and was knocked unconscious from the force. Ren quickly turned and used Todoroki as her phase point to return. Not realizing she moved too fast into teleporting, she accidentally knocked into the boy with a little more force than she liked upon reappearing. He let out a soft grunt and caught her between his arms in a loose embrace.

“S-Sorry! I overshot my momentum.”

She looked up and hurriedly stuttered before stiffly pushing herself off his torso. Her cheeks were dusted red from a combination of the cold, the fight and sheer embarrassment.

“It’s fine.”

By the time the cops came, a safety perimeter had been created and the villain was now in cuffs. With the drugs out of his system, he reverted to a malnourished version of what Ren fought. She explained to the officers what happened and showed her license to them for good measure so Todoroki wouldn’t get in trouble. After the debrief finished, the two walked past the victims, one of which was a crying young boy by himself wearing nothing but a thin long sleeve shirt and pants. Stopping in her steps, she walked up to him and knelt down.

“Hey, what’s your name?” she asked in a gentle voice.

“T-Tairo,” he hiccuped.

“Tairo-kun, where are your parents?”

“M-Mom n’ dad are workin’ and w-won’t be back un-until late-e,” he sniffled out and shivered.

Ren took her scarf off and draped it over the cold boy. Suddenly feeling the warm enveloping him, he slowly stopped. She patted him on the head and gently smiled.

“I’m going to get a police officer over here so you can get to your parents, okay?”

Tairo furiously nodded and thanked her. She grabbed an officer when she stood back up and told her about the details of the child, to which they immediately acted on, before walking back to Todoroki.

“Is everything okay?”

She glanced over at the young boy again with softened eyes, who was now hugging the accessory she gave him with a hopeful smile, his tears fully dried. His eyes slowly followed after.

“Yeah… we’re good.”

As they walked past the caution taped crowd, applause and whistles erupted from the pedestrians, thanking them for their help. The two couldn’t help but smirk and bowed before heading back to grab their belongings and head back to U.A. The train ride back was crowded and cramped.

“God, I don’t miss this,” she groaned out and found herself uncomfortably pinned between a railing and the corner of the door.

With the train pulling into another stop, a shift of commuters made no leeway in freeing up space. Todoroki found himself being shoved up onto Ren. Her face planted into his chest while her arms wrapped around his torso for balance. His arms were perched above her head by the elbows on the glass part of the door, trying to shield her from anyone hitting her. Both felt part of their breath knocked from their bodies from the friction.

“You okay?” she looked up and asked with a look of concern.

“I’m fine,” he groaned out and looked down. “You?”

“I’m shoved up against my human shield and can barely breathe,” she quipped. “But I’ll live. You have it harder than I do right now.”

“Glad of you to notice.”

Several uncomfortable train stops later, the crowd of riders gradually dissipated. Both Ren and Todoroki let out a sigh of relief. Realizing she was still hugging him, her hands immediately released, only to be thrown back into him from the jerk of the train cart from switching tracks. She yelped as her face hit his chest hard. Ren let out a muffled groan into him and lifted her head up with a displeased expression. Her nose bridge and chin were throbbing with a numb pain. Todoroki couldn’t help but let out a snicker.

“Y’know, for someone so muscular, I had to hit the one bony spot on your chest,” she griped and rubbed her chin.

“I’ll be sure to specifically work out that one bony spot then.”

Finally reaching their station, they got off the train and exited. The sky was now pitch black with stars slowly coming out to play. The two’s white breath swirled up and mixed while walking back to campus. Ren’s teeth audibly chattered en route, rolling herself into her leather jacket further and pulled her hat down. Todoroki walked closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“What are you–”

A sudden surge of comfortable warmth radiated from his left side as he turned away from her, his cheeks red from the wind.

“As long as I’m keeping you warm like this, you won’t get sick,” he spoke in a low voice. “That’s fine, right?”

She rolled her lips in and hesitantly nodded, looking down at her moving feet. The two walked in silence until they got past the gates.

“I-I think I’ll be okay from here.”

He turned to look down at her and never realized how short she was next to him. Ren looked like a fragile creature that needed protecting from the elements.

“Are… you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean...” She scratched the back of her head, avoiding eye contact. “You draping your arm ‘round me like that? People might think we’re a couple and stuff.”

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that,” he realized. “I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s fine. You were just being considerate. So… thank you.”

She gave him a warm smile that could thaw the coldest of ice he could generate with his right. He felt his heartbeat suddenly increase as smoke trailed up his left shoulder.

“U-Uh, Todo-kun?” She pointed to his shoulder. “You’re catching fire.”

He quickly turned and immediately patted himself out with his ice quirk and clicked his tongue.

“Let me guess, favorite jacket?”

“And this is why I can’t have nice things,” he sighed as she chuckled.

Ren walked up to him and tip-toed up to his shoulder to analyze the burn.

“Eh it could’ve been worse. Gives it character,” she joked.

Immediately looking up, she didn’t realize how close their faces were to each other. Todoroki carelessly reached up and tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear, their eyes not leaving one another. The cold surrounding them suddenly felt like a balmy spring day. His hand hovered by the side of her neck as his thumb brushed against her cheek and felt something sticky.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered and saw his thumb had a crimson smudge.

“O-Oh.” She pulled away and took off her glove to feel her cheek with her palm. Looking down, there was a bloody imprint of a cut. “Must’ve happened during the fight. I’ll get it cleaned up.”

The two made their way back to the dorms in haste, with Ren entering first and hurried upstairs to clean the superficial cut. Todoroki came in not too long after and slowly removed his shoes.

“Todoroki-kun, you okay?” Midoriya asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your face is really red.”

“It was really windy out today,” he half-lied.

A series of suspicious ‘hmms’ came from the couches of the common room. Deciding to ignore them, he took the stairs to his room to change out of his outside clothes before showering. After a long day, the dual-hair colored boy decided to relax in the silence of his room. Taking his phone from his desk, he unlocked it and scrolled through his photos to find all the ones he took of Ren today.

Smiling to himself, he clicked on one of the candids where he got her mid-conversation at the dog cafe with a smirk on her face. He swiped right and it was the one where she got whipped cream on the tip of her nose. Her face was scrunched up in the frame, making him audibly chuckle.

He’s been finding himself gravitating toward her more and more lately, but didn’t understand why.

Was it because she’s so effortless to be around?

Or was it because she always seemed to know how he was feeling?

Curiosity and confusion peaking, he pulled up the search app on his phone and typed in specific keywords. The top results pulled up blog posts and dating articles from various magazine websites with titles like, “Knowing Your Crush,” “Top 15 Dead Giveaways You Like Someone,” and “Make Your Crush Notice You! The Tried and True 5-Step Plan.”

Although some of the results were super obvious on it being click bait, Todoroki carefully scanned the results and clicked on the ones that looked the most reliable. After reading through the fifth article, he heaved out a long sigh while pinching his nose bridge and squeezed his eyes shut. They all said the same thing: if you find them to constantly be on your mind and notice yourself acting out of character, you have feelings for them.

He had a crush? On Ren-senpai?

Sure, they were friends and he respects her, but were his feelings really on a more romantic scale?

Unable to sort out any more of these new discoveries about himself in his head, he closed his phone and plugged it back into the charger before going to bed. The screen woke up to his lock screen being the sleeping photo of him and her Jiro took.

--

*Reference to the one-shot I wrote titled “Cloud.”