#I know they filmed little shop of horrors here so he must have spent a bit of time here

[jessicanjpa]

rite of passage

Esme decides that Jasper is ready for the next stage of his desensitization: grocery shopping. An excerpt from this 1957 one-shot, Esme POV.

I gave a little jump of surprise when the long peace of my morning, spent humming over my new watercolors as I experimented with their concentration, was suddenly interrupted by a blood-curdling scream and a bestial roar. I raced down the hall to the stairs, fearing the worst, but after a few steps I laughed at myself when I realized the sounds were recorded. Jasper must be working on the latest project Carlisle had assigned him in his ongoing war against his thirst: watching horror movies.

Sure enough, I found him in his and Alice's study with the window shades drawn closed and our new film projector spinning its wheels. On the blank wall opposite where Jasper sat parked on his little blue couch, the massacre was quickly unfolding. The townspeople hadn't a chance against the...

"Zombies?" I guessed aloud.

"Right," Jasper said, setting aside the textbook that had been balanced on his lap. "I'm sorry, Esme, am I disturbing you? You didn't feel like you were painting..." He moved to get up, but I held up my hand.

"You're right, I wasn't. May I join you?"

He collected the rest of his things off the other half of the couch: the textbook, his notebook and pen and papers, and something Alice-sized in blue satin.

"It's not exactly the highest quality cinema," he said.

"You aren't kidding," I said after a few minutes of low-budget horror. "Where did Carlisle find this one? A trash bin?"

He smiled a little, turning a page in his textbook and jotting something down. "Possibly."

I forced myself to watch the slaughter for a few more minutes. In the next scene, the camera focused on a zombie would couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss or eat the screaming woman in his arms. He went for the meal in the end; I was quite disappointed.

"She's a zombie later on," Jasper assured me, "and they live happily ever... well, you know what I mean."

"How many times have you seen this one?"

"Three times. Carlisle says I'm supposed to keep watching each one until I can get through the whole thing without venom flow."

"Oh. And how are you doing... with that?"

Another scream sounded. The camera lens—and therefore a good portion of the wall we were watching the film on—was splashed with fake blood as a particularly clumsy zombie slashed his way through another screaming heroine. Jasper's eyes flicked back down to the book in his hands. He swallowed convulsively and his eyes darkened a shade while I watched.

"They're usually not colorized like this," he said, sounding apologetic.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

Carlisle and his projects! I jumped up and crossed the room in a flash to stop the film projector from doing its projecting. "That's enough torture for one morning," I told him firmly. "At least that kind of torture. Why don't you join me on my errands today?"

Jasper hesitated, then smiled sheepishly and agreed to it. I had him carry boxful after boxful of canned and packaged foods out to the car: dry goods I'd slowly been accumulating over the past few months each time I went out to be seen shopping at the supermarket. It was time for another drop-off to the food bank.

"Want to drive?" I offered, holding out the keys. "You'll be the one doing the errands today. I'm just here to supervise."

"You're going to make me play human?" he guessed. He took the keys and slid into the front seat.

"It's good for you. Carlisle's projects won't do you any good if you keep hiding at home all the time."

"I know that," he said, and I decided that was enough pushing.

"So," I said once we were rolling down the driveway at ten miles an hour. Jasper was new enough to driving that he was overly cautious, not quite trusting the car to hold itself together at decent speeds. "What do I feel like when I'm painting?"

Jasper carefully pulled out onto the highway and adjusted the mirrors for his height. "It feels... well, I think the best way to describe it is that it feels like you're telling a story, just without talking. It has all the rises and falls and bumps in the road like I would feel if you were describing a fairy tale." He glanced at me. "Although this week it's felt more like a thriller. Or a mystery."

"Speed up," I suggested. "You always want to keep up with the other cars. Hmm. My paintings have had a mind of their own lately. Maybe they're trying to tell me something."

"Something you're supposed to do?"

"Like what?"

He grinned, not taking his eyes off the road. "Alice told me about your plans to go to college this time around and how they came to nothing. I'm not the only one hiding at home right now, am I?"

I was taken aback; I was so used to Carlisle and Edward's gentle manners that Jasper's directness still surprised me sometimes.

"I'm sorry," he added right away. "That was—"

"Fair," I said. "It's true enough. I'm not sure what happened to those plans. I suppose with you staying home again this time, well..." I trailed off, adjusting the hem of my skirt on my knees.

Jasper shook his head. "You know I don't need to be babysat anymore—at home, at least—and I'm perfectly happy to spend my days alone. You do so much for all of us, Esme. If there's something you want to do for yourself, there's nothing stopping you."

I hummed to myself, trying to decide what I thought about that. "We'll stop at the market first. It's up there on the left, just after the light."

"Don't we have plenty of food already?"

"I still try to be seen shopping for food fairly often, and I divide it between two different stores. We can just deliver it with the rest."

We pulled into the supermarket parking lot and, after a reassuring peek up at the clouds, went inside. The minute we did, Jasper's easy manner evaporated. He held himself stiff as he walked, glancing constantly around at the other shoppers, up at the bright lights, around the walls to map the exits. I noticed after a few moments that he wasn't breathing anymore.

"You really aren't comfortable with this, are you?" I said with a frown. "When's the last time you were out in public like this? Indoors?"

"It's been a while," he said, using as little air as possible. "I went shopping with Alice last month, although those stores were a lot smaller. I don't think I've ever been in an indoor space this big and... crowded."

I decided to fill several bags with fresh fruit. Jasper was all thumbs about it at first, carelessly packing apples and tomatoes and grapes into one bruised mess of a bag, but he learned quickly. I chattered on about which fruits and vegetables were most appreciated by the food banks and why, but he was looking more uncomfortable every second.

His steps slowed to a stop when we passed the butcher. The young man working behind the counter was expertly wielding a long, serrated knife, flicking it in and out of the huge chunk of red meat on his counter. Little pools of bloody fluid had collected along the counter and the floor.

"You're staring," I whispered. "And the butcher probably isn't the best place for us to linger." Jasper swallowed and moved on.

"All it would take is one slip of that knife," he whispered back. He finally drew another breath. "You know I wouldn't be able to stop myself. And there are so many witnesses. Is it really worth the risk to bring me in here?"

"It'll be worth it as soon as we walk out the door," I said firmly. "You need to expose yourself like this far more often, or you're never going to build any confidence. Every time you walk out of a building and leave everyone alive is a success. And it'll be easier than this when you go to school," I added. "Most of the time, everyone will be sitting still and you won't have to worry about spontaneous bleeding."

Jasper shook his head, glancing back at a pair of children who were horsing around while their mother chatted with a friend. "I should have hunted first."

"You're fine," I insisted.

We went on for a few more minutes, but it really was crowded, and the tension was radiating off poor Jasper in waves now; I supposed we had better wrap it up. I reached for his hand, trying to focus on feeling calm for his sake. But instead I received a jolt of fear the instant I touched his skin.

"Fear?" I said in surprise. "Jasper—"

He yanked his hand out of mine and stalked right out the door.

I finished my shopping quickly, filling the cart with a few more piles of dry goods selected at random. When I got back outside, Jasper was leaning against the car door with his arms folded, looking perfectly human again and more apologetic than ever.

"I'm sorry," I said before he could say it first. "I was just trying to help. I shouldn't have touched you when you were already upset."

"It wasn't that," he said. "I just... it was time to get out of there. The horror film, the crowd, then the thing with the knife, and those two kids..."

He took the cart from me without another word and busied himself getting the groceries into the trunk. When we were back inside the car, he sat in thoughtful silence for another moment, fingering the leather cuff on his wrist, tracing the metal lines of the Cullen crest.

"...And it makes me ashamed," he said, finally looking me in the eye.

"Being afraid?"

"Being weak. It's been seven years, Esme. I should be stronger than this by now. I should be able to walk into a human space and do what you all do."

I thought he should too, but I did my best not to feel like it. Carlisle likened Jasper's struggle to human drug addiction more than anything else, and that didn't promise an easy "recovery," I supposed.

"You are able to do it," I said. "It's just harder for you. Maybe this was a bit much, after the horror film. And it really was crowded in there. But why the fear? Correct me if I'm wrong, but when you make a mistake, you aren't quite as... well, upset as some of us might be. Mistakes happen, so why fear them?"

"I fear the consequences. So far, we've been lucky. It's happened out of town with no witnesses. But what if it did happen in a place like this? Those witnesses would need to be taken care of. All of them." He looked away, squinting like he was looking at something in the distance. "I could do what needed to be done, in that case. But I don't like to think about how you all would feel about that. And what if it was even worse? What if I caused a real breach and it put us all in danger?"

"What if?" I sighed in agreement. "Those two little words have stopped so many of us from living, haven't they?"

Jasper sighed back, still staring out the windshield. But after a moment, the tension lifted. I smiled to feel the familiar shift toward a particularly dreamy happiness that could only mean one thing: he was thinking of Alice, of the day they had met and she had completely derailed his misery. It always felt like this.

"Diner Day?" I teased him, touching his sleeve.

He smiled. "You know me too well."

"Well enough to know that moping and inaction don't suit you," I pressed him. "I'm not saying this will be easy for you anytime soon. I'm just saying that you've got to press on and keep challenging yourself. Taking risks is the only way forward."

He digested that for a moment, then sat up straighter and started the engine. "Where are we going next?"

I raised an eyebrow. "So you're ready for more?"

"I don't feel ready," he admitted, "but let's go."

We compromised in the end. I steered him by way of the county park and pushed him out the door so he could go find something to take the edge off. He returned in just a few minutes, wearing a sour expression.

"Goose?" I guessed, trying not to laugh at him.

"Squirrel," he grumbled.

.

.

By the time we reached the food bank, Jasper was in better spirits. He told me about the correspondence course he was taking in continental philosophy. He had started taking his first class back in Oregon, registered under Emmett's name, so he'd had to start over once we moved here with new identities. He hadn't done very well on his first paper, but he was determined to improve.

"I just don't know what the professor is looking for," he admitted.

"You'll get the hang of it, I'm sure," I said. "After all, it's been a century or so, and you've never even been to high school in either of your lives. Just up there." I pointed out the food bank. Jasper swerved the car over a little too quickly, earning an angry chorus of car horns and slammed brakes. No one was hurt, but there was no hiding my panic at what had almost happened.

"I'm sorry… again," Jasper sighed. He wrenched the keys out of the ignition and tried to hand them to me. "I think you'd better"—he took one look at my shaky smile—"uh, let me drive home so I can practice more."

"Now you're getting the hang of it."

He smirked and jammed the keys back into his pocket. We opened the trunk and carried the first boxes in to the food bank.

"Good morning, George!" I called out. The elderly volunteer backed out of the aisle he had been working in and began to limp toward me.

"Mrs. Cullen," he said with his usual rheumy smile. "Oh, let me help you with that—!"

"It's quite all right," I said. I piled my box on top of the one in Jasper's arms. After a split second, he remembered to act like the load had just gotten heavier. "I have a lot today, so I brought a helper. This is my husband's nephew, Jasper. He's visiting us this week before he heads off to school."

"How do you do," Jasper said warily.

"Good for you, young man!" George said, limping on out to the car. "Nice to see some young folks getting involved. What school? What're you studying?"

Jasper looked to me for an answer. "Wayne State," I said without missing a beat. "Jasper, have you chosen a major yet?"

"Um… philosophy?" he said.

George was already digging around in the trunk of my car. "That's nice… oh, tuna fish! That's just what we need. Hey! Come over here and help me, sonny."

Jasper stood awkwardly holding out his hands to receive box after box, intently watching George as the old man worked.

"Thirst okay?" I asked under my breath.

"Just fine," Jasper whispered back. "I'll tell you later."

Since he seemed more comfortable, I asked George to give us a little tour of the warehouse. It was good for Jasper to spend some time around an individual human without the strain, and the reminder that humanity was capable of good things couldn't hurt either. Learning how to see them as people was a big part of his struggle. He kept surprisingly close to George the whole time, listening with rapt attention.

"All right," I said when we were back in the car. "Next stop…" Deep breath. "The university."

"You mean Wayne State? Isn't that down in Detroit?"

"That's the one."

Jasper looked slightly panicked. "I thought we were just using that as the cover story. I don't think—"

"We're not going for you. We're going for me."

"Oh. So you're ready to do this?"

"I don't feel ready," I said, "but let's go."

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo ranboo & others are mentioned - tommy won’t go home

this is part 14 to the great adventures series

an: I tried, days are a social construction on the tarosin blog… also i’m back baby <3

from the moment you were forced awake by tubbo streaming with ranboo, Tommy began sending several messages as in his own words you ‘weren’t answering him quick enough’, probably because you had only just woken up and had no idea what day or time it was.

Tommy: y/n

Tommy: y/n were going out soon I've decided so answer me

Tommy: y/n wake up

y/n: heh? I’m going nowhere I’m tired

Tommy: I’m sending you a ticket make sure you meet me there

it was around now you had the feeling you were going to be stuck with Tommy for a while and you had no idea what to expect. an hour later tubbo stopped streaming so you took this as an opportunity to say your goodbyes to tubbo and ranboo explaining you had no idea what was happening as Tommy refused to explain but you’d probably be back later so they don’t lock you outside like last time

“don’t smirk at me ranboo just because you’re tall doesn’t mean I can’t take you down”

“mhm sure yep”

“y/n you’re going to be late we’ll see you later”

soon enough you were with Tommy who finally decided to inform you of what was happening

“we’re going to go annoy George”

“great idea Tommy let’s go”

the pair of you stood at the door waiting for George to answer, the look on George's face is something you’ll never forget.

“Hello Tommy, is that y/n what are you doing here”

“Nice to see you too… the fuck”

a few minutes later you and Tommy were sat next to George when you found a rubber duck and started making it squeak annoying the others well that was until Tommy took it and started doing the exact same thing you were doing

“I now understand why you looked pissed George”

during the stream, you were sat in between the pair George looked at you and you nodded. a few seconds later George threw the rubber duck hitting Tommy, the pair of you left not long after that event and made your way to the hotel after calling tubbo to explain what was happening.

the next day you and Tommy met up with tubbo ranboo and George at a shopping centre where you were all almost immediately met with several people asking for photos and the chance to talk to you all, you hid behind ranboo until the crowd grew smaller. it didn’t take long for everyone to notice the piano before you had time to process what just happened tubbo ran to the piano dragging you with him accidentally pushing ranboo in the process

“SORRY RANBOO”

the pair of you began playing the piano Tommy joining shortly after. time flew by the five of you spent the rest of your time shopping and just enjoying each other’s company, before you knew it, it was time to get the train. you laughed at tubbo falling asleep on the window however karma quickly caught up as you ended up falling asleep on ranboos shoulder ranboo laughed quietly to himself not wanting to wake up you or tubbo

“I swear its always y/n and tubbo who fall asleep”

“its been a long day y/n couldn’t sleep in the hotel they kept mentioning something about ghosts I don’t know man they must have been watching too many horror films”

“mhm probably”

soon enough you were with the others, minx quickly pulled you into a hug

“Nice tattoo”

“I did it for money it was a sub-goal”

you and tubbo stood with Tommy looking at the ferret

“why’s it so long”

“tubbo does it look like I study zoology I play Minecraft for a living”

the next day you were at the beach, having only had a few hours of sleep the previous night it was safe to say you weren’t in the best mood, you sat next to ranboo occasionally falling in and out of sleep, ranboo kept an arm around you pulling you into his side making sure you were safe and didn’t hit your head on the rocks when you fell asleep. you were woken up by tubbo walking on something which he clearly shouldn’t be. eventually, you all made it back to tubbos house, Tommy and tubbo were in the kitchen while ranboo practised for mcc and you were asleep in the room you had been sharing with ranboo whilst he’s in the Uk.

the next day you all went out on another adventure, at this point you had no idea what was happening but you just went with it. you and Tommy chased a bird telling him about the subscribe button and giving him the name ‘funny boy’

“Why does that bird look just extremely anxious”

“because we’re too cool ranboo”

“maybe we should give him another name than funny boy”

“Charles”

it was at this point you all decided to leave poor Charles alone as it was pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

the three of you made your way to the train station forgetting that the school students would be there, a few minutes later the three of you were swarmed by several students all trying to talk to you all.

“I think we might have got on when the schools are here”

“so thankful you pointed that out boo I thought we were being mobbed by several people cosplaying as school students”

“hi everyone hopefully no one has covid”

you backed away from the crowd moving closer to ranboo

“I bet tubbos really glad he chose not to come”

you tried to avoid the crowd by getting on the train, this failed miserably. people were excited to meet the people they look up to they were all determined to sit with you all on the train taking up the seats around you all, the three of you spent a lot of the train ride talking to them, unlike ranboo and Tommy you ignored the comments aimed at the three of you not wanting to get involved after all it was rather overwhelming so many people talking loudly at once, you ended up moving seats and had a quiet conversation with someone from your community, around half an hour later you were at your destination and said goodbye before joining Tommy and ranboo at wills. the three of you sat on the floor listening to will and the others practice. it’s pretty clear Tommy has a habit of finding things as you turned around to see him with a puppet of a shark pretending to bite you

“Tommy what are you doing”

“bye y/n scream it’s going to get you”

“ah”

realising you weren’t going to scream he began telling joe, Wilbur and David to scream.

after spending time with the others and having a quick trip to the beach you Tommy and ranboo ended up at the shop recording the three of you on the security camera

“If you take a picture from there 50p”

you looked at ranboo tilting your head in confusion even though he was wearing a mask and sunglasses he was clearly equally as confused, he pulled you into his side noticing you were clearly starting to get anxious, you hated confrontation even though it turned out to be a joke it still shook you up a little bit

“I'm only joking my friend…but I did get them”

“you did we took it serious”

“aye you did”

the three of you walked away Tommy still laughing

“he scared me”

after a long day, you all went back to tubbos, you and ranboo decided to end the night early, the pair of you made your way to the shared room. you both spent a few minutes talking about mcc and how you were both going to win and coming up with new strategies. you must have fallen asleep mid-conversation as you didn’t remember seeing Tommy come into the room last night yet you were woken up by him complaining that ranboo playing mcc woke him up.

after getting ready you sat planning an adventure with tubbo

“So where do you wanna go bo”

“We should do something really cool”

“l hope you know that wasn’t helpful”

“pumpkin patch”

“it’s summer where do you think we’re going to find pumpkins…wait tubbo in October I’m taking you to a pumpkin patch it’ll be great we hardly spend time together as a pair near Halloween”

“I promise this year we’ll spend more time together”

your conversation was interrupted by Tommy and ranboo announcing they were ready to go to the beach again. once there tubbo sat arguing with Tommy and ranboo over them needing a life jacket. meanwhile, you had walked away collecting pretty rocks and sea glass putting them in the velvet blue bag covered in embroidered gold stars that dream had sent you as a thank you for the merch you sent him not long ago, you walked along the beach quietly talking to yourself

“ooh jack would like that and I could turn this into a ring for Niki…techno would like this and this would annoy schlatt it's perfect”

you laughed to yourself as you made your way back to the others thinking about schlatts reaction when he sees his gift. when you made your way back you watched Tommy swim over to tubbo leaving ranboo on his own probably waiting for you to return

“did you get any nice rocks then y/n you were out for a while”

“I did. come sit over there with me I’ll show you”

the pair of you sat next to each other away from the sea, ranboo matched your excitement every time you picked the rock you wanted to show him

“you’ve been collecting more than rocks? what’s that”

“I have !! you wanna see?”

“of course I do”

this was a moment neither of you would forget, the pair of you sat enjoying each others company looking at rocks and sea glass you had found on the beach ignoring the world.

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[tcsauaskblog]

OH MAN I GUESS IT’S TIME NOW HUH???? THEN HERE WE GO KIDS

So Abner is one of the older cousins (about 7 years older than Fethry). He’s not much bigger or taller then other kids his age, but he’s built like a brick wall and stronger than he looks FOR SURE. He’s a rowdy kid, often getting into lighthearted trouble and roughhousing with other boys in the school yard, but all in all, he really is a good kid. 

He helps his dad out with the chores on his gran’s ranch without complaint, does the nitty gritty jobs so that his gran doesn’t have to, and isn't afraid to give his mom a hug and a kiss in front of the other school boys (even if they’ll make fun of him later for it, which he’ll then get into a tussle about, but more for the sake of principle than actually denying that he’s a momma’s boy and is embarrassed by her affection.) He really is, truly, a good kid. Just a bit rough around the edges is all.

He’s not good around kids though. He never really payed much attention to his younger cousins till they were old enough to actually hang around with. Donald was always a little too feisty and eager to prove himself, which Abner could respect, and he was fun to wrestle with once he was actually able to hold his own. Della talked a lot, but momma said that was just a girl thing, despite her being just as eager to wrestle and get down and dirty with the boys. Gladstone showed off too much, but sometimes his luck would get them free ice cream down at the shops on Sunday afternoons, so he wasn’t too annoying to hang out with. And it helped that Gus was around his age, and able to help him round up the little gang of hooligans when it got a little too much for Abner to deal with sometimes.

And then Fethry came around. 

And he was small. Smaller than the others had been, almost tiny in comparison, and Abner felt his heart flinch every time someone asked him to hold his baby brother. (Either for a family pic for granny or to help momma out sometimes when she was busy) 

It wasn’t like Abner didn’t like Fethry. He was a relatively easy baby. Hardly ever cried, compared to what Abner remembered of his cousins as babies, and usually was content just to be held and giggle. Abner just didn’t know what to DO with the kid. 

He was just. So. Little. little enough that one wrong move from Abner and his baby brother would break into a million pieces. Not to mention the kid was so adored by everyone around him and was the complete opposite of Abner in every way. Abner didn’t think he could stomach the idea of being the reason this little kid, who was all smiles and stars in his wide brown eyes, cried or got hurt.

So Abner did was any kid his age could do in his situation and just sort of,,, avoided Fethry. Not to be mean or difficult, but just to be safe. Just until Fethry was a little older, a little less breakable.

As the years went by though, it became harder and harder to break this avoiding game they were playing, despite Fethry’s BEST efforts. Because the kid LOVED his cool and distant older brother. He’d follow Abner everywhere he went, would try to copy some of Abner’s poorer choice habits (which horrified Abner to no end, thus furthering his efforts to keep away from Fethry so as not to taint the kid) And even though Fethry got older and wasn’t the baby he used to be, he somehow got even more fragile, even more precious before Abner’s eyes. The kid was as pure hearted as could be, while Abner, entering his early teen years, became more and more rambunctious with his shenanigans and got into a lot more trouble than he was probably worth. He became to hard to be near the kid, a shining beacon of everything good in the world, where Abner was bordering on the darker side of that shadow the beacon cast.

Abner didn’t really mean to get into as many arguments about his estrangement with his kid brother with his folks, mostly his dad. But it was hard to explain himself. Abner was a little too much like his father, where words were hard to come by and actions always did the job of conveying his thoughts anyway. His mother, a kind hearted and gentle spirit, was always able to see through his rough exterior and understand him perfectly, but even she was having difficultly understanding his hesitance to be around Fethry. Abner wished he could be a little bit more like Fethry, the spitting image of his mother’s kind soul, But alas, he was too much like Eider, and that made the two butt heads more often than not. 

It was Gladstone’s 7th birthday when the incident occurred. 

The party was being held at granny’s ranch, and it was a big family todo, (family events always were) and Abner was getting a little too smothered with all the constant chatter and loud music. He had only stepped away just to catch his breath, to be able to breathe a little easier without all the commotion. He had taken a walk down to the little pond at the bottom of the hill. 

He didn’t really like water all that much. He wasn’t a very good swimmer, and after the summer he broke into the movie theatre with some friends to see an R-rated horror film about a sea monster when he was 9, he’d never really been able to look at a body of water the same again. But he had half an egg sandwich he swiped from the buffet table in his hoodie jacket, and feeding the bluegills was always something that calmed him down, so standing on the little dock didn’t seem too scary.

Abner didn’t realize Fethry had followed him down to the pond. He should have. Of course he should have known the kid would. Fethry followed him everywhere, like a little duckling would. Abner should have realized Fethry would have trailed along right behind him.

But he didn’t. He was too stuck in his own head, trying to calm himself down from getting too overstimulated from the party. He didn’t realize Fethry was right behind him. 

He didn’t mean to jerk as hard as he did, when Fethry has reached out towards him, he really, honestly, didn’t. The kid had startled him, and Abner was acting on school yard protective reflexes faster than he could stop himself.

To this day he doesn’t really know if he actually pushed Fethry in or not. It hurts to think about. All he knows for sure is two things. 

That Fethry fell into the water.

And that Abner didn’t jump in to save him.

Someone did though, Donald a few seconds later. Where he had come from, Abner couldn’t bother to ponder about. Donald had always been a little too protective over Fethry, acting on those big brother instincts far better than Abner ever did. He must have followed after Fethry when he noticed the little 4 year old duckling toddle away from any adult eyes. He had jumped in the water immediately to save Fethry. 

Abner wasn’t even sure if the Donald could swim. It didn’t matter if he could though. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Abner didn’t jump in, regardless of whatever excuse he could come up with.

And he tried, for years. Abner spent countless hours trying to wrap his head around why he never jumped in. Why he couldn’t move. Why is heart felt like it broke the second Fethry’s signature, stupidly big hat, disappeared under the water. Why it didn’t feel better when both he and Donald broke the surface again, whole seconds later.

The coming days would be a blur after that. A hazy blur that Abner didn’t like thinking too hard about. 

The adults had come to the rescue a few minutes later, Gladstone and Della must have ran to get them after Donald had jumped into the water after Fethry. Fethry ended up ok, if not a little water logged and shaken, understandably. They had demanded to know what had happened.

And Abner couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even make eye contact. Just stared at his own feet, his hands clenching in his hoodie pockets hard enough to leave bruising as he willed the pain in his chest to go away. Donald had no such reservations, and told the story as he saw it. 

That Abner has pushed Fethry into the lake.

Abner couldn’t very well refute it, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn’t mean to push Fethry if he did, he didn’t mean to not jump in after him. He didn’t mean to hurt Fethry. He never did. Fethry was the last person on the earth that Abner wanted to hurt. But that didn’t change the fact that he did hurt Fethry, and that he didn’t do anything to change that.

He was sent away to a boarding school the following week. A school for lost and wayward boys. Boys who had caused so much havoc in their lives, that their parents didn’t know what to do with them or how to help them anymore. It was, for a lot of cases, a last ditch effort to save some reckless boys from causing any more damage to themselves and the people around them. Abner was one of those cases.

He didn’t want to go. Had begged and pleaded and fought tooth and nail not to go. Momma, the sweet soul that she was, didn’t seem like she wanted to send him away either. But Fethry had almost drowned, and neither of them could deny that Abner was the cause of it, and had said nothing to his defense against it. But Pa’s word was final, and Abner couldn’t do anything about it.

The school was strict, but it had never met a challenger quite like Abner Duck. Stubbornness was something tangible, flowing in his veins like the rest of the spitfire Duck traits he inherited, and Abner proved himself to be quite the problem child that everyone had always painted him out to be. 

It was about a year later, that Abner got the letter from his gran that his mother had fallen ill. She died the following spring. 

Abner felt out of sorts in his suit that didn’t fit him quite right as he stood in the spring rain at his mother’s grave spot. It was under the little oak tree on the hill overlooking gran’s ranch. The pond Fethry had almost drowned in was just a little bit away, in viewing distance at the bottom of the hill. Fethry was on the other side of his father. Abner felt bile creep up in his throat whenever Fethry would peek over at Abner with wide brown eyes that reminded Abner too much of their mother, and try to give him a smile. Abner tried not to hate him in that moment. It wasn’t Fethry’s fault. He was only 5. He didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t realize the weight of momma’s death. Still didn’t really understand why Abner hadn’t been around the past few months, but still. There was a pit of anger burning itself into Abner’s stomach that he didn’t know what to do with.

He hadn’t seen his mother in almost a year, and now he’ll never get to see her. Never get to hold her hands or give her hugs or eat her brown sugar cookies that was the only thing she could bake without burning. The last memory he has of her alive is when she hugged him goodbye before the boarding school bus took him away. Abner was too upset and angry that he didn’t hug her back. If he had known that was going to be his last moments of her, he would have turned around in his bus seat, to at least see her wave him off, with little Fethry, not understanding the situation at all, waving good bye too.

Abner was incredibly heartbroken, but more than that, he was furious. Furious that his father had sent him away in the first place. Away from his mother, the only person who really saw him for his worth. They had gotten into another fight that night, screaming at each other so loudly that they neighbors dogs, a whole acre away, could hear them and started barking in turn. Abner doesn’t remember a whole lot of the fight. Just that they were both raw from grief and heartbreak, and that Abner knew, that without his mom, he couldn’t stay in that house. Not with a dad who was a little too much like him, and a baby brother who couldn’t have been more different. Abner left for the school again the next morning. He hated being in the school, but it was the only place that was familiar enough to return to, without feeling like it was a home. 

Abner got the news that his father died half a year later. Abner didn’t bother going to the funeral, no matter how devastated he was about the news. The only person left from their broken little family, the only person who would, undoubtedly, be waiting for him, was Fethry. And Abner couldn’t see him. Not now. He didn’t know when, but certainly not now. Not after everything that had happened between them.

Abner decided it was best to keep the distance between himself and Fethry. Nothing good came from them being near each other, and this way, Abner knew that at the very least, Fethry would be safer without him around. Fethry had granny to take care of him, and Donald and Della and Gladstone to keep him company. He didn’t need Abner.

Fethry would be better off without him.

[tomhollandstrash]

Nice

Here’s another friends to lovers trope. I’ve just been really in the mood to write about it lately! I hope y’all enjoy!

--

Peter, what are you doing?” You raised your eyebrow, watching Peter frantically digging through his backpack. 

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, removing his hands from his bag before resting his forehead in his hands. “I lost it,” 

“Lost what?” You asked, sitting in the desk next to him. 

“My pen,” He grumbled.

“You lost your pen? Pete, you can just borrow one of mine,” You chuckled at your friend’s antics before passing him your favorite teal pen.

“Your favorite pen?” Peter blinked as he took the pen from you.

“Yeah, so you better give it back after class,” You poked him in the side and gave him the sternest look you could muster.

“You’re so nice, y/n” Peter smiled, settling into his seat, ready for class.

—

"What are you doing tonight?" you asked Peter as the two of you walked out of the classroom.

You and Peter have been close ever since you were partners in biology last year. As it turned out, the two of you had a lot in common. You both enjoyed the same kinds of music, although you always argued about-who had the better taste. Peter never failed to brighten your day. He was always helping you with your schoolwork or telling you stupid jokes he'd picked up off the internet. You also knew that he trusted you deeply. You can still remember the night he told you that he was Spider-Man. Peter said he wanted to tell you because he knew that you were one one of his most trustworthy friends. Only you and Ned knew that particular secret.

Although you were glad that Peter felt like he could trust you with anything, sometimes you were privy to information that you didn't care to know. For example, Peter's massive crush on Liz Allan. Liz was great; she was the total package. She was beautiful, smart, and kind. You couldn't pin point exactly what it was that irritated you so much about Peter's crush on her. You always told yourself that it was simply because Peter was annoyingly lovesick over her. That was definitely it. It wasn't because you had any kind of romantic feelings for one of your closest friends. Definitely and absolutely not that. Besides, you and Liz were friendly with each other. All you could hope for was for your friends to be happy; and Liz certainly seemed to make Peter happy.

"I think I'm going to ask Liz if she wants to hang out tonight" Peter gushed nervously.

" That's great, Pete” you replied through a tight lipped smile.

There was that weird feeling again. If you weren't absolutely certain that you didn't have feelings for Peter, you would have mistaken that feeling for jealousy. There was nothing to be jealous of.

" Yeah, hopefully she'll say yes" Peter said as the two of you arrived at your lockers.

—

You put your chin in your palm as your elbow rested against the cool linoleum countertop. Since you had no other plans for the right, you decided to pick up an extra shift at the local coffee shop you worked at. The coffee shop wasn't too busy tonight, though you weren't particularly surprised. The only people who frequented the shop at 9pm on a Friday night were you and the extra studious college students. You were about to begin cleaning up when you heard the bell on the door ring and the sounds of laughter filling the air. You stood up and straightened out your apron, ready to greet the newcomers.

" Welcome to bi-" You began but stopped when you saw who your new customers were. " oh, hey Peter, Liz”

' She must have said yes' you thought somewhat bitterly to yourself. When you looked at them, you saw that they were linking elbows and looked like they were having the time of their lives. Peter was practically glowing he looked so happy.

" Hi y/n!” Peter greeted you after his Liz induced giggles subsided.

" What can I get you guys? " you asked, rocking back and forth on your feet. You hated how awkward you were being in this moment. It's not like you liked Peter like that.

" Can we just get two not chocolates, please?" Liz requested kindly.

"Sure,” you replied as you began to take out the necessary ingredients. "it's on the house"

"Thats so nice!” Peter grinned at you. “You’re so nice, y/n”

You tried to hold in your sigh. Was that really all you were to Peter? Just someone who was nice?

“ No problem, I'll bring you your drinks when they're ready" You said with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"Thank you!" Liz smiled at you as she whisked Peter away to a cozy table.

As you made their drinks, you couldn't help but steal glances at them. Why couldn't you find it in yourself to be happy for Peter? He'd been mooning over Liz for the past few months, and he looked undeniably happy. You frowned slightly as you watched Peter let out a full bellied-laugh at something Liz said to him. After you dropped their drinks off at their table, you went into the back to clean, preferring to avoid the love fest happening in front of you. Once they left with a cheerful wave to you, you turned the lights off and walked home trying to forget the Peter sized pit in your stomach.

—

In the weeks following Peter's date with Liz, they began officially dating. While you and Peter used to hang out most days after school, you weren't seeing much of each other these days. As far as you knew, Peter and Liz were still going strong. In all honesty you tried to avoid the topic whenever you and Peter had time to talk. In the time Liz and Peter had been dating, you had come to terms with the fact that you had feelings for Peter Parker. It wasn't something you liked to admit to yourself. How typical it was to be a person hopelessly in love with your oblivious best friend. And while rationally you knew you would just have to accept it, it sure didn't take the sting out of your best friend being in love with someone else.

“ Hi y/n!"

"Jeez Peter," You shouted and placed a hand over your racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me,”

“Sorry,” He smiled sheepishly as he smoothed out his messy hair. “What are you up to tonight?"

"I thought you had plans with Liz tonight?” You asked with a raised brow.

"I did but she bailed " Peter said, suddenly getting quiet.

“In that case, I’m free tonight,” You replied, making a mental note to ask him about why he’s acting weird later.

“Pizza and movie at my place?” He asked, his bright smile returning.

“Sounds like a plan, Parker,” You smiled at him before heading off to your next class.

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough. Not only were you excited to spend some quality time with Peter, you were also exhausted. Your teachers had been piling on the assignments and you couldn't wait to take a well- earned break.

You walked over to Peter’s apartment building and picked up a pizza on the way there. Even if Peter didn’t return your feelings, you had to admit that you missed hanging out with him like this. You missed the nights spent eating pizza and watching cringe horror movies, enjoying each other’s company. You wondered if you’d ever tell Peter how you felt about him. In all honesty, you didn’t know whether you would or not. On the one hand, you’d never know if he felt the same way if you never talked to him about it. On the other hand, you were almost sure he didn’t feel the same way and you didn’t want the verbal confirmation that he didn’t. 

“Hey, Pete! I have pizza,” You said through the door as your knuckles tapped the surface a few times. 

“Hi, y/n! Come on in,” Peter opened the door with a grin before taking the pizza box out of your hands. 

"what are we watching?" you asked as you took off your jacket.

"I don't remember what it's called," Peter admitted, helping himself to a slice of pizza. "I know that it's a Romanian film of some kind,"

"Well, I’m definitely intrigued!” You let out a light laugh, missing now Peter beamed when he heard the beautiful sound of your laughter.

—

��I was not expecting that ending,” Peter said looking blankly at the now dark screen.

“That was certainly something,” You nodded in agreement.

The two of you were seated comfortably on the couch, Peter's arm resting on the cushions behind you, both of your legs sharing a cozy blanket. You stretched and yawned, checking the time. It was getting late but you weren't quite ready to leave Peter or the coziness of the blanket. Peter glanced at you and subconsciously scooted his body closer to yours. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he started to see you as something more than a friend. At first Peter thought maybe the way he felt about you was like family, but he quickly realized he was in big trouble because he like-liked you. Peter Parker had a full on crush on you, his best friend. It made Peter feel guilty having these feelings for you while he was with Liz. When he said Liz bailed earlier, it wasn’t because she had something going on, it was because they decided to break up. Peter decided not to bring it up unless you did out of fear of making things weird.

“Hey, Peter?” You sat up a little straighter to look at him.

“Yeah?” Peter looked at you.

“When I mentioned Liz earlier today, you got all quiet and weird. Is everything okay?” You bit your lip, anticipating what his answer would be.

“We uh, we broke up,” Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but at you.

“Oh...” You trailed off. “I’m sorry to hear that, I know you really liked her,”

It was an entirely bittersweet feeling to hear Peter say that he and Liz were no longer dating. Bitter because you knew that Peter was probably hurting and he was your friend before anything else, no matter how much you wanted to be more. Sweet because maybe, just maybe, you had some kind of chance with him.

“Y/n? Can I tell you something?” Peter broke the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

You nodded in his direction in affirmation, not trusting your own voice not to waver. The way he was looking at you was making you nervous. He looked like he had something serious to tell you. Peter gave you the same look the night he told you that he was Spider-Man. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but what if he was going to confess his love for you? What if this is the day the two of you cross the line from friendship into something more? It was more than enough to cause your palms to sweat and your heart to beat faster.

“I like you,” Peter breathed out, looking just as nervous as you felt.

“I like you too, Pete,” You replied, not fully understanding what he was trying to say to you.

“I mean that I like you in a love kind of way,” he said almost inaudibly. Although it was quiet, you heard him and you knew you heard him correctly.

You honestly couldn’t believe it. Here you were sitting in your best friend’s living room and he was confessing his feelings for you. This was a scenario you’d daydream about but it wasn’t something you thought would ever happen. Now that you’re in the moment, you don’t know what to say or how you should react. It’s so much better than you could have ever imagined it. Those words falling from Peter’s lips made your heart explode from fullness.

“I, uh, I like you like that too,” you said bashfully, biting your lip to keep your smile from growing too wide.

Peter let out the breath that he was holding before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, breathing you in.

“I so glad you feel the same way, I was starting to think you weren’t going to respond,” Peter laughed, wiping pretend sweat from his forehead.

“I didn’t know what to say, I’ve liked you since forever!” You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Since forever, huh?” He smiled that dumb adorable smile you fell in love with and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, maybe not forever, but almost,” you chuckled before planting a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.

That night didn’t end in the way you expected it to when you originally agreed to hang out with Peter, but you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect ending. The two of you talked until the early morning hours, nothing changing between the two of you except becoming more in love with one another.

—

[wickedmilo]

BASEBALL AND SPIDER MONKEYS | MILO & ORION  PART 1

PLACE: Orion’s house TIMING: 11:12 PM SUMMARY: Orion hosts a vampire movie night to help Milo feel better about the changes in his life WRITING PARTNER: @3starsquinn​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Some brief NSFW humour

Milo wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Rio wasn’t the type to lie, and had been pretty clear about living in a large property alone. Maybe he was developing trust issues, because standing in the kitchen now, staring out at the expanse of space, he felt guilty for ever doubting his friend. It was a large property, a nice one too. He was glad he had somewhere decent to stay. If anybody deserved that, it was Orion. The fact that he had put himself on the line, had created such a permanent rift between himself and Dani, for the sake of keeping him safe… it was something he still considered when he allowed his mind to wander. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to repay him, though showing up for movie nights felt like a pretty good place to start. He had a sneaking suspicion Orion had organised this particular watch party in an attempt to make him feel more grounded, to make him feel more at ease with his new life… or death. But he was really hoping his company had something to offer Rio in return. It must get lonely sometimes, such a big house with nobody in it. 

Turning his attention back to the popcorn as it began to pop in the microwave, he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. The smell was already overwhelming, but he had been the one to insist. It wasn’t a movie night without popcorn, and something about the mundane routine was incredibly comforting. “So,” he said, turning briefly to Rio who was sitting beside him on the kitchen counter. “What did you say was on the list?” Still watching the timer as it continued to count down the seconds, he used his fingers to tick off the list of franchises he had been given by his friend. “Twilight, of course. But you said The Vampire Diaries, right? Specifically episode one? Did you make this list? Or did you steal it from a teenage girl’s tumblr account? Be honest with me.” 

Sitting on the counter, Orion listened to the microwave’s buzzing as the kernels slowly started to pop. For once, the sound of the microwave and the distant sound of the pool filter wasn’t the only thing to keep Rio busy. He wasn’t sure anybody had been in the house to hang out with him since Skylar had left. It was such a relief to have somebody occupying space in the kitchen with him again. Even if this was only temporary, it was worth it. For just today at least, he wouldn’t feel so alone in this house. “Stop looking like that.” Rio warned, catching his eyes as they floated around the place, “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a real housewife or whatever those rich people shows are. All of this was purely by chance. And it’s not mine. I’m just staying here for now.” Rio smiled, but he truly didn’t want Milo thinking the wrong thing. He didn’t know why he hated the idea of people thinking this was actually his house, but something about it felt wrong. Like he was living a facade. It was partially true, but not because of this house.

“Not necessarily in that order.” Orion checked his phone for the list he had compiled. Most of the media he had never consumed himself. His parents had never been fond of their children watching such inaccurate depictions of supernatural creatures. They didn’t want Athena and Rio to get the wrong idea of what they were weak to, but more than anything else they didn’t want them romanticizing the idea of what they considered monsters. Clearly, something had gone wrong along the way with Rio. “I did my research from multiple sources.” Rio countered, not necessarily disclosing where those sources came from. “I never got to watch this stuff growing up, so I’m going in just as blind as you. But I have seen some scenes from Twilight. Personally, I think it could have been worse.” 

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. “I’m not looking like anything.” He insisted, holding up his hands in surrender. “I am, however, wondering who your sugar daddy is and how I can get in on the action.” His eyes were shining with mischief as he teased Orion. He knew his friend wouldn’t mind, and sometimes he just made it so easy. “Oh, because the order is important?” He asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Trash is trash, Rio. Sometimes you just gotta sit back and enjoy it.” Pulling open the door to the microwave as the alarm began to sound, he shook the bag of popcorn before emptying it into the bowl he had ready. His fingertips burned with the heat. It was strange no longer needing to worry about that. “Multiple sources being tumblr?” He raised his eyebrows, chewing absentmindedly on a piece of popcorn. The taste was pretty close to how he remembered it, only dull, and one note. Wrinkling his nose, he took another piece for the sake of it.  

“Wait, you never got to watch vampire movies?” He had wrongly assumed Rio’s childhood largely consisted of vampire movies, and scary supernatural YA. It made sense considering what he was, what his parents were hoping he would grow up to become. Realising that may not be true was a reminder of just how much he didn’t know, just how much they still had to talk about when Orion was ready. If Orion was ready. “Wouldn’t that be like… homework for you?” He was genuinely curious to know. He hadn’t been allowed to watch much TV because his own parents had made it very clear they wanted him to study in his free time. But surely watching shows about the supernatural, learning about the supernatural, was studying for a hunter. “I guess we’re in it together then. Maybe we should start with Twilight after that glowing review.”  

“I know you’re joking and that you don’t actually think I have a sugar… dad.” Orion scrunched his nose at the thought of saying the word. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to have a relationship like that. “It was a very specific and weird order of events that led to me being here. Including but not limited to my parents sucking, invading a girl’s privacy, getting attacked by a man eating watermelon and eventually the only person I’ve ever dated and I breaking up.” He was shortening events obviously, but this provided a very small glimpse of the life that Rio never disclosed to Milo at the comic book shop. They had never talked much about personal lives there, avoiding it altogether to chat about comic books instead. “My sources prefer to remain undisclosed.” He crossed his arms and pouted, abandoning Milo in the kitchen with the popcorn to head to the living room. 

“It’s not really considered homework when it’s not accurate.” Rio spoke normally, but figured Milo would be able to hear him from where he was in the kitchen. Rio started setting up the tv to get their first pick of the night ready. “Not to say all of them are inaccurate, they all get a little bit right. But they thought it would do more harm than good.” Rio still found time to watch a few when he could. Whether it was through the movie theater or at the Scribrary when he not so formally moved in there. “Besides, vampires were never my families focus anyways.” He nodded in agreement with Milo on the movie pick and found the movie, starting it up before pausing, “Ready when you are.” 

“But am I joking though?” Milo teased, laughing at the term Orion chose to use. “You can say daddy, you know. It isn’t going to kill you.” He laughed again, surprising himself with how easily the sound escaped him. Hugging the bowl of popcorn to his chest, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at ease, couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so warm. “Was the specific order of events signing up to a sugar daddy website? Going on a date? And then securing a sugar daddy?” Falling silent when Rio began to elaborate, he was reminded not for the first time of just how strange his life had been. Nobody who hadn’t grown up with the supernatural could ever drop a carnivorous watermelon into the conversation as though it was on the same level as a break up. “Huh, no kidding about the complicated…” He muttered, deciding not to ask any further questions. He didn’t want to bring the mood down, but he also didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable. There was a time and a place for serious conversation, and the start of a trashy movie marathon didn’t feel like either.  

Chewing on another piece of popcorn, he didn’t immediately follow Rio to the living room. Instead, he took the time to enjoy the moment, observing the mundane aspects of the kitchen, and appreciating them in a way he never had before. His life had been turned upside down, for a month before meeting Harsh he had spent his time between the abandoned buildings, the streets of town, and the woods. No kitchens, no bathrooms, no comfortable living space. It felt good to be back, to be grounded again. Listening to Orion as he explained why his parents had kept him away from certain shows and films, he could almost understand the logic. Not knowing whether Hunters had hearing on par with his own, he finally wandered into the living room to reply. “I guess that makes sense… though I can think of a few films that would probably help if they were trying to make you see these people as monsters. I mean basically every horror movie ever, let’s be real.” Raising his eyebrows at the mention of vampires not being the family's focus, he set the popcorn down on the coffee table. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, dropping onto the couch, making himself comfortable without any kind hesitation. Couch surfing in the years before his death had left him more than capable of relaxing in other people’s houses. “Do I want to know what your family’s focus was?” Nodding towards the screen, he let Rio know he was ready without potentially interrupting an answer to his question. There was still so much he needed to learn.  

“I really feel like it could kill me. For my own sanity I’ll just avoid saying it altogether.” Milo was saying the word daddy way too many times for Orion’s sanity. Was this what Rio had set himself up for when he stayed in Skylar’s house? Sugar daddy accusations? The idea might be a bit less shocking if normal, no strings attached sex didn’t terrify Rio to his core. He couldn’t even sleep with his ex, who he adored. He couldn’t say he was surprised when Milo didn’t ask for any elaboration. Life here was complicated. They wouldn’t actually get to watch anything if they waited around for Rio to tell his life story. 

“They had plenty of stories all on their own.” Rio remembered his parents' stories vividly. They spared no detail of the gore they had witnessed. They liked to talk about the death and destruction werewolves or fae would leave behind. Though they never spent as much time talking about what they would do to it in turn. Ironically, the ending always included some kind of heroic intervention. Their parents or their grandparents swooping in at the perfect time and serving justice. His sister used to fall for those stories every single time. Rio used to be afraid of those stories. It wasn’t until he got older that he realized exactly what he should have been afraid of. Rio pressed play on the movie and let it get started, but continued talking with Milo. “Depends on how much about the supernatural you want to know. Both of my parents came from different families of hunters. So Athena and I got to focus on two things growing up. Werewolves and Fae. But my… abilities were always focused towards werewolves.”  

Milo made a big deal about pouting in disappointment. “Is that because you’re only allowed to say it in Daddy’s company?” He asked, before raising his arms in surrender. “Okay, okay- I’ll stop now, I swear- I couldn’t resist.” His smile fading as the conversation became serious once again, he leaned back against the cushions behind him, listening intently to what Orion had to say. His own parents had been strict, and rigid. Growing up, their expectations of him had been unreasonably high, and in his opinion, put him under an unnecessary amount of stress. But they had been loving, and caring, and they had never resorted to scare tactics. He couldn’t imagine the trauma Rio might be carrying from being intentionally scared by the people who were supposed to protect him. Had they really told him stories equal to the horror movies he used to binge watch? Surely it had to be worse if they were based on the truth? On experiences they had been through?  

Laughing quietly, he reached forward again to pick up the popcorn bowl, somehow feeling more comfortable when he was holding it. The smell reminded him of watching movies with his parents, as did the action of occasionally eating some, even if the taste wasn’t quite there anymore. “I mean, it isn’t as though I can just ignore it…” He pointed out. He could bury his head in the sand, but there were too many things out there he had a feeling he should know about. Supernatural life had to be easier when you understood the full extent of the world you were living in. He wanted that to be true, at least. “Huh… so werewolves really do exist.” He muttered, more to himself than to Rio. It was something he had suspected for a while, but his friend was now the first person to confirm the fact. “Fae?” He echoed, realising he wasn’t familiar with the term. Pausing for a moment, recognising the way Orion hesitated, he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of popcorn, offering the bowl to him as though it might remind him he was in a safe environment. “So, forgetting the- you know, the bad stuff, what can you do?” He asked curiously. “You’re different, right? You told Dani you barely counted as human so… are we talking Spider-Man backflips? Or is it something else? Was one of your ancestors bitten by a radioactive werewolf?” He wanted to give Orion the chance to talk in a playful way, in a way that almost trivialised the darker aspects of his life. Rio had begun to make vampire jokes, and the relaxed environment they created helped to lift some of the weight from his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, he could return the sentiment. 

Orion was mostly happy to ignore the beginning scenes of the movie in favor of talking with Milo. Even if the topic was his least favorite to discuss. For some reason, things with Milo just seemed easier. He could casually talk about topics he would usually avoid unless absolutely necessary. “Sorry to ruin your fun. I’m sure you wanted to find out about werewolves naturally.” Rio laughed, gesturing for the bowl of popcorn and then opening his mouth to see if Milo would try to throw it to him. “Fae are a lot more complicated. That’s a supernatural lesson for another night. But they have their own sect of hunters.” He didn’t need to overwhelm Milo with all of that knowledge. There were too many fae to describe in a single setting anyways. Not that Rio knew all of them as it was.  

Rio couldn’t but laugh at the radioactive werewolf comment. The comic humor didn’t escape him, but it was the irony of the theory that made it even better “Oh god I wish. If hunters found out they were actually descended from werewolves I think their heads would spin.” Rio might actually go back to the Silver Bullet if he got to see that. “Yeah. I guess. I have this sort of… sixth sense I guess. If a werewolf is around I can feel it.” The gift that kept on giving. He had never figured out if there was an off switch to it. He mostly just dealt with it until he went numb to the tingling sensation. “I have faster reflexes. I’m kinda strong. I heal a bit faster than normal humans. Oh and I can see in the dark.” Rio tried shrugging them off. He never liked his abilities. No matter how great they might be objectively. “I could probably do a spider-man backflip if I trained. Any more questions?” 

“Oh, no. I’ve already found out way too much without anyone to guide me through it. I’m done with finding things out on my own.” Milo assured his friend. In reality, it had been an incredibly difficult, and jarring process, but sitting here with Orion now made it more than easy to shrug off. Raising his eyebrows when he realised what he was being asked to do with the popcorn, he laughed, shifting on the sofa to give himself a better angle before aiming carefully. He so nearly missed, but with a sharp tilt of his head Rio caught the popcorn on his tongue, and he felt a ridiculous sense of accomplishment that definitely wasn’t warranted. Nodding in acceptance of Fae being too broad of a subject to cover without ruining the evening, he shelved his curiosity, ready for another night, another conversation. Offering Orion a grin when he laughed, he was genuinely proud of himself for being able to draw it out of him. He knew him well enough to understand this subject wasn’t one he was overly comfortable with. And he was not only talking about it now, but willing to joke about it. He enjoyed that.  

“The ultimate plot twist, right?” He agreed, listening to the description of a sixth sense, wondering if it felt anything like being able to sense the blood pumping through a person’s veins. There were some moments it was all he could think about, hearing their heartbeat, feeling the heat of their skin, the pulse in their neck… he swallowed, pushing away the thought before he could make himself thirsty. That wasn’t going to be productive. And it certainly wouldn’t do anything to help his case in proving to Orion he was the same person he had always been. “So kind of like Spider-Man?” He confirmed. “I was almost right.” At the mention of any more questions, he sat up straight, attempting to look as serious as he could. “Only two. Potentially the two most important questions you are ever going to be asked. Number one; are you Team Edward, or Team Jacob?” He waited for his words to register before continuing, gesturing to the screen where the Cullen’s were entering the school cafeteria. They were walking in slow motion, their skin white, and pale against the film’s dramatic colour grading, and their faces were striking, intense, so obviously intended to be sexy. “Number two;” he added, maintaining his mock sincerity. “Do I look like that now? There’s only one right answer to this question, okay? Don’t hurt my feelings.”  

Orion hadn’t exactly spoken about his history with the Scribrary. Or rather, two separate scribe buildings that he had access to now. The drama with Dani and the discovery of the hunter heritage all felt so fresh that RIo didn’t feel the need to pile on top of that with the Scribe history. But Milo might have lucked out in friendship when it came to finding someone with supernatural knowledge. Milo accommodated Rio’s request and tossed a piece of popcorn that Rio just barely managed to catch. The surprise took over, and he shot his arms up in the air in a triumphant cheer, maybe an overreaction but not one he was going to regret.  

“I’m not that lucky. My family was convinced that the powers come directly from God. So take that as you will.” Rio was glad Milo was getting such a kick out of this. It was surprisingly easy to talk about it when the conversation wasn’t so… depressing. “Basically. I’m not nearly as cool or pretty as Peter Parker though.” He had gone through a long Peter Parker phase when he was younger, for obvious reasons. Rio was ready for his follow up questions until Milo actually asked them. He rolled his eyes and groaned in response, but felt his posture relax slightly at the change of subject. “I’ve seen enough memes to know the only right answer is Bella’s dad. I mean like… look at him.” Rio pointed at the screen, even though he wasn’t actually on it at the time. His point stood. “What’s so bad about looking like that, huh? I think you’ve always sparkled to me.” Rio laughed to himself and shot an innocent smile in Milo’s direction, “You look much more alive than they do.” 

There was something so endearing about the way Rio celebrated his win, that for a few seconds following Milo found himself entirely speechless, overwhelmed by the affection he felt for his friend. “Maybe you are God.” He teased, barely putting any consideration into the joke, knowing Orion would appreciate it regardless. “Maybe you’re going to get older and suddenly inherit your omnipotence. If you don’t know what to do with your powers, please come to me. I have some pretty great ideas, you know. Tequila in every water fountain would be a good place to start...” Laughing at the mention of Peter Parker, he wasn’t sure he had met anyone who hadn’t crushed on the character at some point in their life. Sexual orientation didn’t come into play in relation to Spider-Man. “Hey, don’t put yourself down like that. You’re every bit as great as Peter Parker. I’d choose you over him any fucking day.”  

Feeling a spark of satisfaction at the reaction to his questions, his eyes were shining with mischief. He was unapologetically proud of garnering such a response. “Okay, but is Bella’s dad hotter than Jacob, is that what you’re trying to tell me here?” If he had a heartbeat, he knew he would be blushing at the comment on sparkling. It was such a stupid thing to get flustered over, but he was rarely ever the recipient of compliments. He didn’t know how to accept them. “You know…” He shifted on the couch, readjusting the popcorn bowl. “That’s probably a good thing because if you try pushing me into the sunlight it isn’t going to end well. Let me sparkle in the dark, please and thank you.” Glancing back up at the screen, he wondered if the vampires in Twilight had reflections. Surely they must, how else would they look so flawlessly put together? “I do?” He asked curiously, pressing his fingertips to one of his cheeks as though he would be able to feel what Orion was talking about, the difference in complexion, the difference in demeanour. “I guess I don’t really know what I look like anymore… it’s weird only seeing myself on my phone screen, it isn’t like I can use any natural lighting either. The whole thing is just… really fucking weird.”  

“You’re getting way too deep for me.” Orion laughed, lowering his victory arms and pull his legs up until a fetal position instead. “I’d have to get old in the first place. Hunters don’t exactly have the same life expectancy as an average human.” Sure, that was mostly due to the dangerous nature of their lives. But Rio had already decided long ago that just turning away from his hunter heritage and trying to live a normal life wasn’t enough. He had to actively try to protect the supernatural. In a way, he might be cutting his life even shorter. He was siding with people that may want to kill by going against those that would protect him. He wasn’t going to be getting much love from either side, in some cases. “I’ll make sure to keep your suggestions in mind though. In case I ever meet them.” Not that he really believed in any of that. “Now I know you’re just being nice. Everybody would choose Peter Parker.” 

With a shrug, Rio tried to defend his statement, “I’ve been spoiled on some parts of this series. There’s a lot to be left desired about Jacob. Mr. Swan seems like a nice guy. I mean he’s older than what I would be comfortable dating, but honestly I’m just not comfortable dating.” Honesty was a virtue, or so they say. Rio spent so much of his life lying that when he finally met those he could tell the truth to it seemed to all erupt at once like a volcano. “Yeah. Suddenly the night hang outs make a lot more sense.” Rio considered what Milo talked about. It was so strange, the idea that he could no longer see himself. Something that was so trivial to most people that they don’t think twice about it as they pass by a mirror and check their hair. “Sure. I mean, I’m not like… I don’t know studying your features or anything but…” Not off to a great start, “You just look like… you. The movie seems to over exaggerate the pale features and stuff like that. I don’t think you look much different. Which is nice.” Jesus, his face felt like it was on fire. He thought he had moved past this by now? 

“Hm, I don’t think anybody has ever called me ‘deep’ before.” Milo admitted, doing nothing to hide how amused he was. “I kind of like it.” His smile fading rapidly at Orion’s second comment, he suddenly found himself eyeing his friend with an open, and unguarded concern. It was a strange thing to say so casually, especially when it was clearly not intended as a joke. He hadn’t considered the life expectancy of Hunters until this moment, and he wasn’t sure it was something he really wanted to dwell on. Orion was safe, because Orion wasn’t a Hunter, right? How could you be a Hunter when you weren’t actively hunting? He wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was that simple, but for now, he was happy to convince himself otherwise. “Please do.” He said, easily falling back into their banter. “I think Tequila on tap would make the world a much greater place to be.” Offering Rio a warm smile, he needed him to see how serious he was. “Rio,” he said, his voice slow, and sincere. “I promise I would choose you. I mean, fuck Peter Parker. Come on...” Peter had a lot to offer, sure. But in his own mind Orion also had powers, Orion was just as interesting, if not more interesting because unlike Peter, he had actively saved his life. Or… unlife? He still wasn’t sure how that terminology worked.  

His smile only growing when his friend proceeded to announce just how much he really knew about the Twilight series, he couldn’t bring himself to tease him for it. Not after the reminder of how grateful he was to be in his company. “Hey, you know what? Neither am I.” He admitted, quite possibly for the first time out loud. You only had to look at his history, at the ridiculous patterns of repeated behaviour for his commitment issues to become apparent. Even he knew he had them, he wasn’t about to deny it. His childhood had been too structured, too rigid. It had left him with a determination to be free. He still wasn’t entirely sure what his definition of ‘free’ was, especially now. But he did know it didn’t include dating. “Honestly, people are probably better off without having to deal with my bullshit anyway.” He absentmindedly took a handful of popcorn from the bowl, eating the pieces one by one before speaking again. “I was always more active at night anyway.” He shrugged off his new limitations. Life didn’t feel all too different in that aspect. The days had always been reserved for sleeping off hangovers and comedowns, the only thing he really missed was working. And Tower Comics usually had late shifts on offer, so hopefully he wouldn’t have to miss it for very long.  

Pausing for a moment, hand halfway back to the popcorn, he realised Orion was observing him, carefully taking him in. It made him feel strangely exposed, but not uncomfortable like he might have assumed. There was something about his friend that made him feel so at ease, he couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to. He could only hope the sentiment was shared between them. The relief he felt when he was assured he still looked like himself was unexpected, until the words escaped Rio he had been entirely convinced it didn’t matter, he didn’t care. There was something so grounding about realising his appearance hadn’t changed. It was only further validation of the fact that he was still Milo, regardless of what Dani believed. Regardless of what Hunters and Slayers were taught about his kind. A half smile tugging at his lips, he didn’t hide how vulnerable he felt, because he didn’t want to hide how vulnerable he felt. He wanted to be honest, Rio deserved that much from him. “Thank you.” He murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. It didn’t take very long for him to push his vulnerability to the side though, because it became all too easy to make a joke as the blood rushed to Rio’s face. He believed Rio when he said he was over his crush, but he was always going to enjoy watching him blush. “You know, blushing in front of a vampire kind of makes you look like a snack.” He grinned, hoping his play on words would be obvious, and Rio would realise he was paying him a compliment.  

“Do you want me to repeat it again so you can hear it more?” Orion laughed, resting his chin on his knees and shifting his tone to an only partially faked form of admiration, “Wow, Milo. You’re just soooo deep. I’ve never met anyone as intellectual as you.” Rio grinned after finishing, leaning back against the arm of the chair, “Hope that helped.” Despite the joking nature of the conversation, Milo seemed all too sincere when doubling down that Rio was better than Peter Parker. As absurd as that sounded, Rio couldn’t help but be a bit flattered. More than that though, he felt embarrassed by the compliment. One that he didn’t exactly know how to reply to. He was always terrible at accepting compliments. Instead, he switched guys. “Right. Well you should be careful who you promise stuff to. It’s a whole fae thing, I’ll explain later. But just be mindful of words like that to people.” Rio had learned the hard way just how dangerous a promise could be in the wrong hands. “But uh… thanks.” 

Rio didn’t know how to respond to Milo. Rio wasn’t good at relationships, though maybe for different reasons than Milo. He didn’t know how to tell Milo that he didn’t seem like a hassle at all without it sounding like Rio was trying to date him. He shrugged the question off instead, choosing instead to show minor interest in the movie again until Milo mentioned being more active at night. “Yeah, I guess I sort of am too. I get the most done at night.” Less distractions to worry about, he figured. 

Having his red face pointed out to him probably made Rio blush even harder. At the very least, it made his cheeks light on fire. “A joke about eating me? That’s just in poor taste.” Rio couldn’t even pretend to be serious, not with his giggling and the smile that wouldn’t leave his face. If compliments made him so awkward, how come he also couldn’t stop grinning? “Most people think I’m one missed meal away from snapping in half. This town thinks I’m like a saltine cracker or something. Just waiting to be stepped on and crumble.” Was that how Rio avoided dealing with the possibility that the vampire had just called him cute? Definitely. 

“Obviously.” Milo countered quickly, tilting his chin in an attempt to look proud, and smug, as Orion elaborated on his intelligence. “Thank you, thank you.” He teased. “I don’t try at all, you know? It just comes to me naturally.” Quickly dissolving into laughter, he caught his friends eye, joining him in sinking back down into the cushions. “Oh, it did.” He assured Rio. “I appreciate the confidence boost.” A frown creasing his brow as he listened curiously to the warning, he hadn’t forgotten their unwritten agreement to put off the difficult conversations, to keep things light-hearted, and fun, and deal with the real world at another time. But he had a burning desire to know more, to understand. He felt as though he had been living in the dark, metaphorically, of course, for far too long now. Orion had become his light. “Okay, how about swearing? If I swear to choose you over Peter Parker, is that going to put me in danger?” He asked, genuinely wanting to know. “Hm, you don’t need to thank me, you dork. Thank Parker for being lamer than you are.” He nudged him with his shoulder, encouraging him to smile. “Who knew that was possible, huh?”  

Dropping his head back against the cushions behind him, he turned his attention to the film as Orion insisted he was also a night owl. He kind of figured, given how they had reconnected, but it was a nice detail, one he was very happy to know. With every day that passed he could feel them trusting each other more, getting closer, and more comfortable with being who they were. What they were. He used to have that with Dani… not so much now. And he was so, so grateful he wasn’t alone. Laughing again, even harder this time, he couldn’t help himself. The situation was so ridiculous, so beyond funny that he had to laugh. If he didn’t laugh he would cry, or go insane, whichever came first. “Oh really?” He demanded, his eyes shining as he looked back at his friend. “You started it with the whole pointing out my lungs don’t work for shit, so… do you know how rude it is to tell someone they’re dead? How do you think Edward would feel?” Humming quietly, making his amusement abundantly clear, he chewed on another piece of popcorn. “Yeah, well, the joke’s on them because Saltine Crackers taste fucking great. Hey look,” he feigned surprise, wondering if he could elicit another blush. “Another joke about eating you.”  

Orion had to appreciate Milo’s commitment to this Peter Parker debate. He wasn’t Rio’s favorite character by any means, but he was one of the most popular characters in probably all of comics. Being compared to and even rated above him was a surprisingly good feeling. “Swearing is tricky too. Though I guess not for a statement like that.” Unless there were any real Peter Parker’s in the world whose life came in danger soon. “It’s best to avoid any potentially binding statements like that. Just to be safe.” Rio needed to take his own advice. It was pathetic how easily he fell into Lydia’s grasp when he had grown up with two wardens constantly warning him of the dangers of fae. “Well I’m going to make sure my headstone reads that I was less lame than Peter Parker. Probably my biggest accomplishment in life.” 

It was so nice not sitting on the couch by himself like he normally did every night. Even if they were watching a movie that Rio didn’t particularly care for. Things could be a lot worse. Right now with Milo things seemed pretty okay. Good even. “That’s old news now, you can’t use that against me!” It didn’t matter that it was barely a week old, Rio just wanted the spotlight off of him again. “I’d like to think that he would have a sense of humor about it.” He paused, glancing at the screen and trying to think of more than once in the entire movie so far that he had actually smiled, “Actually, never mind. Point taken.” Oh god. Did Milo just making another joke about eating Rio? Far past the vampire reference, this made Rio heat up even further. He dug his forehead into his raised knees and curled up into a ball so Milo couldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing his face. “No fair. You’re doing this on purpose!” Rio yelled, the sound slightly muffled from pressing against his jeans. 

“Hm, okay.” Milo agreed, nodding as he took in what Orion was telling him. Until the real conversations, until they could sit down and talk about everything he didn’t know, he was going to hold onto the snippets of information he was given. He was smart enough to understand if Rio was telling him now, on their supposed night off from the world of the supernatural, then it was important. “No binding statements, got it. I stand by what I said though.” He added, grinning at his friend. “Only slightly less lame, but, you know... it’s enough.” He didn’t want to imagine any gravestone for Rio, the idea of mortality versus immortality was something he had strictly refused to let himself think about, but he had to admit the thought of the tagline was amusing. “You’re not going to top that, so you may as well give up now.” He teased, catching Rio’s eye and feeling an undeniable rush of affection. He needed this, a reminder that all hope wasn’t lost. There were things, and people, worth living for.  

Laughing at the response to the previous joke being dragged back to the present, he shook his head, allowing himself to focus on the now. He got lost in his own head far too often, and he didn’t want to miss a second of this night with Orion. “Nope, that so isn’t how it works.” He insisted. “I think you’ll find I can, and I will.” Laughing again as they both turned to watch Edward on screen, the vampire’s mouth a thin, straight line, his body filled with obvious tension, he couldn’t remember laughing this hard since his death. He couldn’t remember feeling so normal. Who knew Twilight was going to be his saviour? Only tearing his gaze away from the screen to watch Rio hide his face, he playfully reached out to tug at his arms. “Doing what on purpose?” He asked, his innocence very obviously disingenuous. “Doing what? I don’t understand, Rio. My mind is pure, and innocent, and virtuous. I’m only trying to compliment you.”  

“I’ll take what I can get. Slightly less lame is just fine.” Orion laughed, revelling in this moment. Where all that seemed to matter was Milo, Peter Parker and the sounds of twilight distant in the background. It was a good moment. “Clearly I’ve peaked in life. No reason to go on from here.” It had been so, so long since he had been able to laugh like that. It almost made him sad, thinking about how lonely he had felt lately. But he pushed aside that butterfly in his stomach. Good vibes only tonight. 

Rio wasn’t going to budge as Milo pulled at his arms, refusing to give him a win on this. A small bit of light shone through as his leg shifted and he peaked up to meet Milo’s eye, “I don’t believe you.” Rio pouted, readjusting to shut his leg again. “I don’t think you’re pure, innocent or virtuous.” Eventually, Rio had to end the facade and lifted his head back up. He feigned annoyance, narrowing his eyes at his guest and crossing his arms. “You know if you had ‘complimented me’ like that like a year ago I probably would have melted to the floor right?” He used his fingers to make air quotes. They both knew that was true. Until Rio met Winston and started dating them, Milo was one of the small list of pretty guys that Rio could barely form words around. Another being Ricky and Adam. Thankfully, that had passed. Or Rio sure hoped that it had. The redness in his face seemed to be arguing against that. “Don’t you have a movie to watch? Notes to take? Like about baseball and spider monkeys?”  

“Good.” Milo teased. “I would hate for you to be disappointed.” Laughing at Orion’s comment, he gestured to where they were sitting. “I mean, you’re sitting on a couch watching Twilight with a vampire. You’ve definitely peaked.” Picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it lazily at his friend, he rolled his eyes, splitting his attention between their conversation and the movie. “That doesn’t mean you get to tap out though, asshole, so you can quit with no reason to go on. When I say give up I mean spend your life getting high, and eating pizza. Because we both know those are two excellent motivators for staying alive.” His laughter only coming more easily to him as Rio refused to budge, he eventually let go of his arms, allowing him re-emerge from the darkness in his own time.  

“Excuse me, I am all three of those things.” He countered, pretending to be offended by the apparent lack of faith. “But I guess I can forgive you, I’m a complicated person, so difficult to understand.” He was being overly dramatic for the sake of it, but wasn’t that what was so great about this night? They could be young, and dumb, and make stupid jokes. They could shut away the outside world and pretend the only thing that mattered were their ridiculous attempts at humour, and the emotionless, super hot vampires on the television screen. “Yeah, I know, I’m sad I didn’t realise at the time.” He grinned mischievously. “Although maybe that would have driven you away and then where would you have bought your comics from?” Shoving Rio gently when he told him he should be taking notes, the popcorn bowl spilled over, but he paid no attention to the scattered pieces. He would clean them up when necessary, but the whole point of right now was being free, living in the moment. “Yeah? Maybe we should try out for the same team. You’re every bit as weird as I am, you know? With your X-Men Hunter mutation bullshit. We’re in this together now.” He did nothing to hide how much the closing statement meant to him, allowing the warmth of his words to remind him he was cared for, and protected. They both were. 

“That’s what you call peaking, huh?” Orion laughed sarcastically, “I’d love to say I have higher standards. Clearly that’s not true.” And it wasn’t. His two best friends now were a werewolf and a vampire. It was like something out of a dream. Or maybe one of his parent’s nightmares. The majority of his friend group was supernaturally inclined in some way. Whether that be spellcasters or one of the supernatural beings his parents tried and failed to raise him to despise. Rio plucked the piece of popcorn from the couch that Milo so rudely launched at him and popped it in his mouth. “I don’t smoke though, so that’s already one reason eliminated. I do love pizza though.” Rio glanced up at the ceiling to consider that prospect. Pizza did sound pretty appealing. Actually, pizza sounded good right now. “Hmm, maybe we should order a pizza.” 

“Not right now, you aren’t.” Rio refused to give him anything while he teased him for the crush Rio had before the two were legitimate friends. It felt like a lifetime ago admittedly, though in reality it had probably been less than a year. Rio had a habit of developing feelings like that for just about every pretty guy that spoke nice words to him. At least until Rio moved in with Ricky and Winston and Rio practically fell in love with Winston instead. Rio hadn’t felt anything quite like that since Winston left town. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t have known how to date back then even if I had the opportunity.” He barely figured out how to date Winston, and that had been an entire saga on its own, “And don’t smile at me like that!” Though he detested the idea of being compared to a hunter, he understood Milo’s sentiment and at least appreciated that he veiled it with comic book references, “I’m only going to take that as a compliment because you compared me to the X-Men. But absolutely not. No sports for me.” 

“I’m offended by the implication of you settling for my company.” Milo teased. “But I’ll choose to let that slide because I’m comfortable and I don’t want to waste my energy on a dramatic exit.” Laughing quietly when Rio ate the popcorn he had dropped, he carefully contemplated the suggestion of pizza. It was another food he hadn’t tried since becoming a vampire. If his experiences with eating and drinking were anything to go on, it would be nowhere near as enjoyable as it used to be. But wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? You ate popcorn until you were genuinely hungry, and then you decided to order takeout. The familiarity of the routine was too strong for him to say no. “Want to order after Twilight?” He asked, glancing back towards the screen. They had to be reaching the middle of the film, they might even be two thirds of the way through. “Heads up, though. If you put garlic on it, then you’re going to end up on the menu.” 

His smile only growing as Orion continued to insist he wasn’t pure, innocent, or virtuous, he finally abandoned his claims. “Maybe not.” He admitted, content to give in now that he had pushed back just a little. He had to at least remain indignant if he was going to accept defeat. Forgetting the makeshift disagreement, he settled further down into the cushions, pulling his legs up beneath him, listening to his friend explain he wouldn’t have known how to date. It was hardly surprising, given what he had come to know about Orion’s quiet, and gentle nature. But if he was being honest, he hadn’t either. Hell, he still didn’t know how to date. They had met just under a year ago, but it was clear a lot had changed for both of them over such a short period of time. “Screw you, I’m allowed to smile at you!” He countered, his tone petulant, but filled with affection. “And yeah, I knew the X-Men talk would do it, you’re very predictable, you know?” 

“Well I’m offended by your attacks on me tonight. And for using my old crush against me to tease me. Both are very rude.” Orion hummed matter-of-factly, “So we can both be offended together. But only one of us gets the dramatic exit at the end.” He didn’t get many relationships like this. Teasing and comfort didn’t come naturally to him. It was hard to find his groove in a conversation when he had to spend so much of it planning ahead and second guessing every single word both before and after it came out of his mouth. Normally, he spent just as much time stumbling through a sentence as he did actually speaking. It usually took a lot of time and a lot of effort and patience on the other parties side to crack through some of that anxiety. Even then, he had only really achieved that sense of ease with a few people. Ariana, Blanche, Winston and Skylar were the first that came to mind. Now Milo too. It was comforting knowing that there were at least some people in town he could be his unfiltered self around. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Rio shook his head passionately, the idea of pizza far too good to pass up. “Oh ha ha. Very funny. No garlic crust for us apparently.” 

A yawn escaped Rio, and he stretched before readjusting on the couch to lay on his bed across it. He kept his knees bent and his head propped on the arm so he could still look over at Milo. “But I like you anyways” Rio reassured the vampire and gave him a thumbs up from his new position on the couch. “You’re allowed to smile at me. Just not like that.” Rio was still joking, but it had definitely been different than the other grins the two had exchanged. Rio didn’t have the energy to try to discern why it felt so different. Besides, he didn’t want to ruin the mood. He kept shifting his view between the movie and Milo. “Being predictable is exactly the vibe I’m going for. Nonthreatening, predictable, totally normal non-hunter Rio.” 

“This is your house, moron, so obviously I get the dramatic exit.” Milo pointed out, very pleased they were in something together, even if the comment had been trivial, and light-hearted. It felt good to be side by side with Orion. He knew, to a certain extent, they really were in this together. In everything together. His friendship with Rio was quickly becoming his main source of support, and he couldn’t imagine it any other way. “You don’t need to tell me, I know I’m hilarious.” He added, watching as his friend stretched lazily, curling up on the sofa in a way that stupidly made him want to find a blanket, fetch him a hot chocolate, and make sure he was comfortable. He looked so innocent, it would be impossible to know all of the terrible things he had seen in his life. The struggles he had to face on a daily basis. Turning his attention back to the film, he couldn’t say anything particularly interesting had happened, but he had to admit he had thoroughly enjoyed the viewing experience. Despite not knowing what like that meant, he hummed quietly in response. “Sure, whatever.” A quiet laugh managed to escape him as he made a start on what was left of the popcorn. “I don’t know about labels, but whoever you are, I like you very much. I appreciate your vibes, you know.” He was only half teasing, needing Rio to know he genuinely enjoyed his company, that moments like these meant more to him than he could ever possibly say.  

Keeping his gaze fixed on the screen, he didn’t want to embarrass Orion further, even if he was desperate to see his reaction to the admission, so he fell back into a comfortable silence, patiently allowing the end of the story play out. Simultaneously, it felt as though it was over in minutes, and took hours to finally draw to a close, but as the credits began to roll, accompanied by a tacky love song he embarrassingly recognised, he turned back to Orion, ready to ask him whether he still wanted pizza. It didn’t take him long to realise his friend definitely wasn’t hungry, though, and he stared, almost in shock, as Orion slept soundly on the cushions beside him. It wasn’t as though he was surprised he was tired, or surprised he had been lulled to sleep by what he could only assume was a vampire satire. It was the fact that he had fallen asleep next to him. Next to a vampire. Dani had made it perfectly clear he couldn’t be trusted, that nobody should be left alone with him. And although he knew Orion didn’t agree with her, being alone with somebody fully conscious was very different to being alone with them and unaware. Being alone with them and vulnerable. Biting down on his bottom lip, repressing a smile, he shrugged off his hoodie without jostling the couch, carefully draping it over Orion’s form. He could try and find a blanket, but wandering his house without his permission felt too much like a violation, so hopefully the item of clothing would suffice. He didn’t need to sleep, he didn’t need to rest in the same way Orion did, but as he settled back down again, unable to tear his gaze away, he realised he was in a position to protect. To care for somebody he was fairly certain wasn’t used to being cared for. “Night, Rio… I’ll be here when you wake up.”  

[kmalexander]

The 2020 Cosmic Horror Holiday Gift Guide

The phrase “Black Friday” has a more menacing tone in 2020—especially here in the United States. Hopefully, you’re following the advice of the experts, staying home, laying low, wearing masks, and washing your hands. But a pandemic shouldn’t stop gift giving! So, once again, I took some time and assembled my List of Lists for 2020. In it, you’ll find a plethora of paraphernalia for the weird-fiction fanatic, cosmic-horror connoisseur, or mythos maniac in your life. As with previous years, I’ve worked to assemble a list of exceptional items for all ages and budgets.

There’s a few changes this year. First, I’m now linking to IndieBound for all books. Please do what you can to support your local bookshops and small businesses. Odds are they can get you anything Amazon can, and it’ll help out your community. Secondly, where possible, I’m also linking to the author’s personal webpages. Check them out. Follow them. It’s a nice way to stay current with what’s happening in the world of weird fiction. Please remember, while I’ve ordered these by price, the prices and availability are subject to change. I don’t have any control over that. Happy shopping!

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• Books • Music • Apparel • Games • • Housewares • Miskatonic •

Books

Mother Hydra’s Mythos Rhymes by Jarred W. Wallace $9.95 + Shipping (Paperback)

This mock children’s book features twenty-one sinister nursery rhymes twisted with a Cthulhu Mythos bent and illustrated by the incredible Heather Hudson. Also included is a complete Edward Gorey-style alphabet. Every budding cultist should learn their ABCs after all.

The Worm And His Kings by Hailey Piper $13.00 + Shipping (Paperback) $6.99 (eBook)

This arrived only a few weeks ago, and I can’t wait to dive in. Set in New York City in 1990, the story follows Monique as she hunts for her missing girlfriend. But the trail goes much deeper than she realizes, sending Monique into a subterranean world of enigmatic cultists and shadowy creatures.

The Stars Were Right by K. M. Alexander $14.00 + Shipping (Paperback) $2.99 (eBook)

I’m nearly finished with Book Four’s edits. So, if you haven’t, now is the perfect time to start reading my Bell Forging Cycle. Follow Waldo Bell as he is sent careening through the multi-level megalopolis of Lovat, fighting to clear his name as a bloodthirsty killer stalks him. It’s mystery and monsters, chases and cults, and an ancient evil in a world that is similar but not quite like our own.

RADIO by J. Rushing $15.99 + Shipping (Paperback) $3.99 (eBook)

A jazz-infused, opium-soaked, historical fantasy with a transgressive edge that explodes from the opening chapter and never relents until its final pages—a welcome addition to modern fantasy literature and weird enough that it earned a place on this list.

Murder Ballads And Other Horrific Tales by John Hornor Jacobs $16.95 + Shipping (Paperback) $7.95 (eBook)

Seems like it’s becoming a tradition to see a new book from John Hornor Jacobs on this list every year, and it’s no surprise. He’s arguably one of the best mythos writers working today. This collection of recent horror and crime short stories takes you through tales involving old gods to malevolent artificial intelligences, plus it includes the sequel to his 2011 novel, Southern Gods.

The Cipher by Kathe Koja $17.95 + Shipping (Paperback) $3.99 (eBook)

Part haunted house story, part body horror, part descent-into-madness tale all told in the style of Transgressive Literature. The Cipher is one of those stories I was shocked I hadn’t read until this year. Koja writes stunningly physical characters and knotted complex relationships that feel eerily familiar to anyone who’s spent time in artist circles. Enjoy the Fun Hole. (One of my 2020 Three Great Horror Reads for Halloween.)

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones $26.99 + Shipping (Hardcover) $9.99 (eBook)

At its heart, this is a horror novel about growing up poor and native in western Montana. But The Only Good Indians also a novel about revenge, mistakes, and their extended consequences. I blew through it. I grew up not too far from where this novel is set, and I have yet to find a recent author that captures the behavior and actions of the people in that area quite as well as Jones. You’ll never look at elk the same way again. (One of my 2020 Three Great Horror Reads for Halloween.)

The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin $28.00 + Shipping (Hardcover) $14.99 (eBook)

The first of the Great Cities series focuses on a roiling, ancient evil that stirs beneath the streets of New York City and threatens to destroy the city. New York must go on, and it will take five protectors scattered across the boroughs coming together to stop it. An allegorical response to Lovecraft’s work and a love letter to the city.

The Dark Brotherhood and Other Pieces by H.P. Lovecraft $650.00 + Shipping (One Copy Available—Sold via AbeBooks)

This rare late-60s first edition copy from Arkham House is in fine condition with a fine dustwrapper. It also comes with an inscription by the publisher and editor of this work: “for Herb Arnold from the compiler – August Derleth.” An extremely unique find and a unique piece of weird fiction history.

No book catches your interest? Check out the books featured in one of the previous guides. • 2014 Books • 2015 Books • 2016 Books • 2017 Books • 2018 Books • 2019 Books •

Music & Audio

Tribute To H.P. Lovecraft by Epsilon Eridani Free (Digital Download)

This atmospheric and somber dark ambient album is the third project from Mexican electronic artist Juan Pablo Valle. Blending instrumental tracks, spoken words performances, and recitations of parts of Lovecraft’s stories, this tribute serves as an excellent horror soundtrack.

The Yellow Sign $6.99 (Digital Download)

While Lovecraftian music often skews towards dark ambient or metal performances, The Yellow Sign goes takes a more orchestral approach. Composer Graham Plowman has created a fantastic classical soundtrack putting this album on par with any feature film—brooding, menacing, and wonderfully enjoyable.

Beyond Madness by Aklo $9.00 (Digital Download)

Erich Zann would be jealous. Aklo, like its madness-inducing namesake, is hard to pin down. But this album captures “the beyond” in ways not often heard in modern music. Part noise, part experimental, Beyond Madness is an excellent addition to any Lovecraft fan’s collection.

Live from Stockholm by Ogham Waite $12.00 (Digital Download)

Ogham Waite, one of Innsmouth’s Deep One inhabitants, and the Amphibian Jazz Band are the mythos’ answer to the lounge stylings of early Tom Waits. Bluesy and moody, this seductively smokey album drips with saltwater. Waite’s performance and delivery are melodious as they are melodic, a great addition to mythos music.

Ambrose Bierce’s The Boarded Window $20.00 + Shipping (Vinyl)

This limited vinyl pressing of Bierce’s unsettling perspective-shifting tale is read by Anthony D. P. Mann and scored by Chris Bozzone. Cadabra Records always goes the extra mile with their products, and it’s clear from the hand-poured red and white splattered vinyl to the incredible art by Jeremy Hush.

Deities by Tortuga €22.50 ($26.68) + Shipping (Vinyl) €5.00 ($5.93) (Digital Download)

This one showed up randomly on a playlist, and I found myself intrigued. Once I listened to it, I became a fan. Tortuga is a Polish doom metal band whose work is loaded down with intricate and heavy driving riffs inspired by Lovecraft’s writings. It’s good stuff.

Not finding any music or audio that interests you? Check out one of the previous guides. • 2014 Music • 2015 Music • 2016 Music • 2017 Music • 2018 Music • 2019 Music •

Apparel

Tiki Cthulhu Embroidered Patch $9.00 + Shipping

I see many patches as I search for new cosmic horror gear throughout the year, and occasionally I find one that rises to the top. This sew-on tiki-styled Ctuhulu is 3″ x 2.5″ and was created for the 2018 H. P. Lovecraft Film Festival. If you want a mythos inspired adornment for your bag or jacket that’s a bit outside the norm, look no further.

Cthulhu Socks $18.00 + Shipping

It’s winter in the northern hemisphere, that means you need to keep your appendages warm. Also, socks-for-Christmas is a right of passage. Why not consider getting these Cthulhu Socks from PutYourSocksOn featuring tentacles up the side and an illustration of the dead and dreaming Cthulhu on the ankle.

Sourpuss Tropicthulhu Rosie Dress $29.00 + Shipping

When you are associated with the ocean, you generally get associated with the tropics regardless of where your sunken city dwells. This 40’s style Rosie Dress allows you to show your appreciation of R’lyeh’s favorite son in a subtle but delightful manner.

Amulet of Azathoth £23.95 ($34.42) + Shipping

It’s the grandpappy of the mythos deities in amulet form! Well, kinda. A representation of the nuclear chaos beyond angled space himself. This antique amulet is a little over an inch and a half long and is cold cast in a mixture of resin and brass—a stunning little pendant.

Mother & Father Statuary Set $85.00 + Free Shipping

These handmade and hand-painted resin figures of Dagon and Hydra would work perfectly as bookends or garden statues. Aged in a way to evoke feelings of lost treasure salvaged from the seafloor or perhaps a dank and forgotten chamber somewhere beneath Innsmouth. Kinda cute to boot.

Cara Mater Silvae Shub-Niggurath Woodcut Print $187.50 + Free Shipping (Limited Edition)

Liv Rainey-Smith’s fantastic woodcut work has long been a fixture in the weird lit community. This limited-edition print is done in the style of a sacred icon and features a great rendition of Shub-Niggurath, The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young, or as my readers will know her, “Cybill.”

Keeper of the Nightmare Mask $331.53 + Free Shipping (Made to Order)

Plague doctors always cut a fearsome figure in humanity’s historical memory, but what lies beneath that leather mask and shielded eyes? This custom made-to-order mask twists tentacles to form that familiar (and terrifying) plague-doctor shape adding an extra level of menace to an already menacing form.

Not finding apparel you like? Check out the apparel on one of the previous guides. • 2014 Apparel • 2015 Apparel • 2016 Apparel • 2017 Apparel • 2018 Apparel • 2019 Apparel •

Games

No Players Online Name Your Own Price (Windows/Linux)

What starts as a simple old demo of a capture-the-flag 3D shooter found on a discarded tape eventually twists and turns becoming something else entirely. I’m a sucker for the 80s glitch aesthetic, and it’s used here in masterfully unsettling ways—multiple endings, interesting game world, very much worth your time.

Kadath $5.99 (Digital Download, Early Access)

This first chapter of a first-person cosmic-horror adventure has you following the case of a World War II Nazi train that vanished only to reappear in a cave in the Himalayas 75 years later. Dripping with atmosphere and filled with brilliant puzzles, this first chapter left me excited for Kadath and wanting more.

Fate of Cthulhu $20.00 (Downloadable PDF) $35.00 + Shipping (Book + PDF)

In this tabletop roleplaying game from Fred Hicks and Evil Hat Productions, you and your friends will find yourself sent into the past on a mission to prevent the future. It’s a race against time as you try to stop the stars from being right and prevent Cthulhu’s foretold return, all before you and yours are transformed into something monstrous.

Elder Sign Dice – Blue Aether $24.99 + Shipping

Infinite Black has been making some wonderful cosmic-horror-themed gaming products for a few years. They’ve finally gotten easy enough to nab for holiday gifts. These Blue Aether Elder Sign Dice stood out to me, but they have a robust catalog making it easy to find the right gift for the dicing Lovecraft fan in your life. (Or yourself.)

Fate of the Elder Gods $63.99 + Shipping

Cults battle cults in this race to summon your ancient order’s elder god of choice! But it’s not just the other conniving worshippers and cult leaders you need to worry about, crafty investigators are on the prowl, and they’re working to subvert everyone’s goals as well. Hasten the earth’s doom in this competitive area-control game for two to four players.

Hastur $274.99 + Shipping (Two Shipments)

I’m a big fan of the Mysterious Package Company, the quality of their products always impresses. This latest journey into the realm of Hastur is no exception. Taking place over several mailings, Hastur invites the recipient into the world of the King in Yellow, the play with the same name, and the utter madness that dwells within those words.

Not finding a game you’d enjoy? Check out the games on one of the previous guides. • 2014 Games • 2015 Games • 2016 Games • 2017 Games • 2018 Games • 2019 Games •

Housewares & Collectables

Cedric’s Eatery 11oz. Mug $16.00 + Shipping

It’s cold out, and you need a new mug. Why not pick one up from Lovat’s own Cedric’s Eatery located in the entresol between Levels Three and Four. An in-between place for in-between folks. Waldo Bell’s latest hangout. Fill your mug with 11 oz. of bad coffee, your favorite tea, or something stronger. [From the pages of the Bell Forging Cycle.]

Cthulhu Clay Idol & Letter $29.80 + Free Shipping

Alternative takes on the Cthulhu idol are rare. More often than not, we see the same shape repeated over and over. Because of that, this rawer, more original piece stood out to me. It feels more realistic in many ways, reminding me of the sort of thing one would find on an archeological dig. Plus, with the attached letter, you get a little mini-experience here.

Sea Monster Shower Curtain $32.00 + Shipping

There be dragons. And there. And there. And… well, all over the place! If you love weird old sea monsters and old maps, then this curtain will be perfect for you. Decorate your shower with this fantastic curtain featuring beasts that look lifted from early Renaissance maps. 70″ x 72″. Liner recommended.

Cthulhu Lovecraft Blanket $59.99 + Shipping

As cooler air moves into the northern hemisphere, we can all celebrate the arrival of the cozy season. To stay warm, why not cuddle up beneath this cotton and acrylic Jacquard Knit blanket featuring the squatting visage of The Great Dreamer himself? He might be cold but you don’t have to be.

Anxious Blob Original Sculpture $325.00 + Shipping (Supplies are limited.)

This weird little one-off sculpture of a nervous little entity is made with polymer clay and hand-painted. The eye sits beneath a glass dome giving this piece a unique character. Who among us hasn’t wanted an anxious blob with hundreds of teeth and a single staring eye decorating our walls?

Not finding a houseware item you like? Check out the housewares from one of the previous guides. • 2016 Housewares • 2017 Housewares • 2018 Housewares • 2019 Housewares •

Miskatonic University

Miskatonic University Pennant $15.99 + Shipping

I love seeing all the different takes for Miskatonic University collegiate gear. Here you can show your support for “Ole Misk” with a felt pennant from H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society and cheer on the “mighty Miskatonic Myrmidons” to another victory. Wave that banner proudly!

Miskatonic University Real Leather Notebook $41.40 + Shipping

Journaler? Artist? Writer? Mathematician? Norwegian sea captain? Random idea generator? If you’re one of these, odds are you need a notebook. This 8″x6″ Miskatonic-themed journal features 100 sheets of thick handmade Khadda paper and is durable enough for the dig site while still being elegant enough for the classroom.

Miskatonic University Wax Seal $48.07 + Shipping

Secure your correspondence with old friends from bygones eras who seek answers using this classic and exquisite seal. It might not stop prying eyes, but at least your old colleagues will know if someone’s been tampering with their mail. (Wax sold separately.)

Miskatonic University Hockey Sweater $109.00 + Shipping (Supplies are limited.)

Every sports fan needs a jersey. Miskatonic students are no different. It’s why when I came across this Hockey Sweater from Geeky Jerseys I knew it’d be perfect for the cosmic horror student in your life. (While this one is great, I’m hoping the superior Miskatonic 2.0 sweater becomes available once again.)

Not finding any Miskatonic University gear you like? Check out the Miskatonic University items from one of the previous guides. • 2014 Miskatonic • 2015 Miskatonic • 2016 Miskatonic • 2017 Miskatonic • • 2018 Miskatonic • 2019 Miskatonic •

  Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays!

So that wraps up the seventh annual List of Lists. Let’s all keep wearing our masks, socially distancing, and washing our hands so we can all do this again next year. Big thank you to everyone who has suggested items in the past to help me pad out this list. Y’all rule. If I didn’t get to your submission, fret not. There are many more holidays ahead. I appreciate the help.

Do you have a book, game, album, or other weird fiction-related items I should feature in 2021’s Cosmic Horror Holiday Gift Guide? Leave a comment below with links to your favorite goodies for others to see, or send me an email as a potential submission for next year!

Want to stay in touch with me? Sign up for Dead Drop, my rare and elusive newsletter. Subscribers get news, previews, and notices on my books before anyone else delivered directly to their inbox. I work hard to make sure it’s not spammy and full of interesting and relevant information. Sign Up Today→

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[hermannsthumb]

Hi Maria 💕 would love to see some more cute vampire hermann content from you for Halloween 🎃

:))))))))

exists as part of vamp hermann series here. falls after sequel in timeline!

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“This is the first autumn I’ve spent in a very long time,” Hermann says, “where it’s still hot as blazes. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Newt, perched precariously atop an old desk chair as he hangs Jack-O-Lantern garland from his shop window, lets out a burst of laughter. The chair wobbles with it. “You get used to it,” he says. He slaps one end of the garland to the glass with a large piece of tape. “It was weird the first few times for me, too. I do kinda miss New England autumns sometimes.”

The chair gives another wobble; Hermann rises to his feet, prepared to catch Newt should the need arise. Newt doesn’t notice. “The leaves, mostly,” he continues, staring wistfully out at the desert beyond them. “And being able to wear sweaters.”

“Mm,” Hermann says, hovering anxiously near Newt’s ankle. 

Luckily, Newt finishes the garland without incident and moves on to hanging strings of construction paper bats from the ceiling, ones Hermann watched him painstakingly cut out himself last night. (Vampire bats, Newton called them, and Hermann had to stifle a laugh behind his hand.) He uses an actual proper stool for it this time. “I really don’t see why this is all necessary,” Hermann finally says. Newt has been running around like a madman all week--not only cutting out bats, but carving pumpkins, switching out half of his regular lightbulbs with deep purple ones, tossing fake spider webs in every available corner. He must be exhausted by this point. It’s not as if anyone even comes to his shop frequently enough to warrant all this, so Hermann imagines most of it is for naught.

“Uh,” Newt snorts, “because Halloween the greatest day of the year?”

“I’ve never celebrated it,” Hermann admits.

Newt stares at him.

It really is the truth. At least, in regard to the sort of Halloween Newt means--candy, horror films, tacky decorations. Back when he was--well--un-undead, Halloween wasn’t something that was celebrated in the manner it is now, and by the time it was, Hermann thought it’d be a little gauche for someone like him to participate. He didn’t need a costume, after all, to be a monster. (That might be a little dramatic of him. Still, watching children leap out at each other in plastic fangs and fake blood does something to a man’s ego.) “I’ve never seen the point, is all,” Hermann says.

“Well, Dr. Gottlieb,” Newt says. He hops down from his stool with a little oof and (to Hermann’s mild, but pleased, surprise) situates himself in Hermann’s lap. “This year, you’re in luck.”

“Am I?” Hermann says.

Newt presses a kiss to his jaw. “I’m giving you the full Halloween experience,” he murmurs. “Dumb movies. Handing out candy to kids.” (What kids? Hermann wants to ask, Newt lives in the middle of bloody nowhere, but Newt’s kisses move to behind his ear, their necks sliding together, and everything becomes strangely light and fuzzy and warm.) “You’re wearing a costume.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. He can feel Newt’s pulse. “Really, it’s--”

Newt says something else, and Hermann responds with a vague hum. Then, “--and some fangs.”

“What?” Hermann says. He startles so badly Newt nearly slips to the floor; Newt takes it in stride.

“I said I bet you could be a pretty good vampire,” Newt says. He grins. Hermann relaxes a fraction. “You’re already pale enough for it. We’d just need to get you a dumb cape and some fangs.”

“Fangs,” Hermann says. “Of course.”

Hermann has been living with Newt for seven months at this point; graduated, first, from Newt’s sofa bed to Newt’s bed in the span of a night, Newt’s bed to the spare bedroom, then, after more months of quiet domesticity (shared meals, heated arguments, Hermann assisting Newt in chores and work in the garage) and less-quiet intimacy (ah, self-explanatory), Hermann moved back to Newt’s bed. He’s not quite sure if they’re dating. He’s not quite sure what Newt feels for him--or what he feels for Newt, for that matter. He knows he likes waking up with Newt curled around him, and he likes watching Newt laugh over his morning cups of coffee and toasted Pop-Tarts, and he likes holding Newt’s hand as they sit on the couch together after Newt closes up the shop. 

He has not yet told Newt about his condition.

“Newt,” he says.

Newt has moved on to unbuttoning Hermann’s shirt. “Yeah?”

“You told me you don’t believe in the existence of ghosts,” Hermann says. “Do you believe--well, what I mean to say, what about vampires?”

“Why?” Newt presses another kiss to the newly exposed hollow of his throat. He seems oddly fixated with it, always kissing it whenever the opportunity presents itself; a turn of events of which the irony does not escape Hermann. “You hear a spooky noise last night?” he teases.

“I’m serious, Newton.”

Newt pulls away with a little frown. “I don’t know, dude. I guess I could really believe in anything as long as someone can prove it somehow. Ghosts and vampires included. Is this really that important to you?”

Here is Hermann’s chance; he could confess it all. He is the not-quite-living proof Newt needs. Newt would believe him, he’s sure of it, and--perhaps--they could seek a cure together. Perhaps Newt would choose to stay with Hermann--to ask to be like Hermann--forever, and Hermann would not have to be so lonely.

Perhaps he would flee in terror.

“No,” Hermann says. He touches Newt’s cheek and forces a smile. “It’s not. I apologize.”

[tays2centsonstuff]

UNDER THE SKIN, 2013

synopsis: a mysterious young woman seduces lonely men in the evening hours in scotland. however, events lead her to begin a process of self-discovery.

director: jonathan glazer writers: walter campbell, jonathan glazer, based on the novel by michel faber stars: scarlett johansson, jeremy mcwilliams, adam pearson

genres: drama | horror | sci-fi | thriller

country: uk language: english filming locations: scotland, england

runtime: 108mins

---

overall opinion:

this movie caught me completely off guard. and it took me way too long to finally check it out. now, I love me some good indie movies but the «problem» with indies is that because they aren’t hyped and reviewed 10,000 times over, it’s up to you to take the risk with those you feel like could maybe be good / interesting. and the synopsis just did sound a little too weird even for my taste.

so two days ago I finally watched it. and it stayed with me so long, I watched it again 24 hours later.

I must say in the beginning I had no idea what this was going to be and my enthusiasm was limited. there was virtually no dialogue (I believe the first words are spoken around the 13min mark and it barely counts as dialogue). the main character, who remains nameless throughout the movie, barely does anything worth mentioning at all. and yet, I was captivated. I found myself completely ignoring my phone (which is usually in my hand while watching tv) because there was no dialogue and everything that happened was visual. it was a very unique experience, and the way scarlett johansson managed to bring the character across, seeing our world from alien eyes, still gives me goosebumps.

you see, while the story / plot sounds extremely weird, the plot is not even important here. what this movie is trying to do is give you an experience. it’s visually stunning, and the eery feeling you have watching scarlett guide her alien character through this human experience stays with you long after the movie is over. at least that’s what it was like for me.

a little tip: I would encourage you to watch the movie twice. once without any sort of information (to get that «wtf feeling»), and then again after reading up on it (and maybe my review). believe me, it wasn’t until I watched it with all that background knowledge that I started to realise why I liked it so much, and it gave me a completely different layer of appreciation for it.

---

if you have not seen it, I would invite you to stop reading here and come back once you have as the following paragraphs will contain spoilers (my thoughts to major plot points) and I would hate to influence any sort of experience you might have watching it.

---

now, I might be slightly biased here because I love scarlett, but she completely made this movie. the way she manages to portray that alien person, her face utterly emotionless, her body language not giving anything away, was simply stunning. there are multiple long shots of her just staring into the distance (or at her own face in a mirror), utterly expressionless. and while a lot of people might say portraying no emotions is not as hard as portraying fake ones, I believe that replacing or covering a real emotion with a different one is much easier to accomplish than completely wiping your face off anything that makes you human.

the most fascinating part, for me, was the nude scene (yes, there is a nude scene). and people who haven’t seen the movie would probably be like: DAMN, HOW SEXY. NAKED SCARLETT JOHANSSON. yeah, no. the thing with that scene was, and that’s why it was one of my favourite scenes in the movie, is that scarlett, with her absolutely amazing body (and believe me I’m the first one to be absolutely jealous of it because she is gorgeous), manages to make the scene devoid of anything sexual. you see, in that moment, she is an alien figure for the first time starting to feel human. and that prompts her to explore her humanity – her body, her shell, that is still so foreign to her. we know from a few minutes earlier in the movie that she can’t eat (she tries to eat a piece of cake and then chokes and spits it out), so there are likely no bodily functions going on. so standing in front of that mirror, completely naked, she is exploring it for the first time. there are lots of very close shots of pretty private parts, and yet still… it is absolutely not sexual in any way. it’s very matter-of-fact, exactly as a strange entity would view our body seeing it for the first time.

it is not until she actually decides to have sex with a man that she discovers that she is in fact, not as human as she was feeling. and I think it’s at this point that she realises that she just does not fit in – no matter how much she wants to. she is not human.

confused and probably the closest she’d get to sad, she flees into the woods where the final scenes take place which for me, with all the rest of the movie already giving me an eery feeling, were the worst. I HATE rape scenes, even attempted ones, especially when it happens to someone I care about (even when it’s acting). seeing favourite people / actors in situations like that spikes my anxiety. it was brutal, and scarlett’s face absolutely killed me. like, thinking about it makes me weepy.

so I had very mixed feelings about that final encounter but in a way, it made sense. she went from predator to prey, thus completing her transition into a human woman. because in a very twisted (and in our society sadly still accurate) way, she experienced what it was like to be a human woman alone in the woods. the most ironic part was that, since we already discovered that she couldn’t physically have sex, he would have probably fled once he realised that. but her fighting back (which again, probably was human instinct after all), caused the skin / disguise to rip and him to see what or who she truly was, prompting him to burn her alive.

---

why it stayed with me:

I think the reason why I kept staring at the tv for minutes after it faded to black, and why I barely slept that night, and why I got this eery, haunting feeling is because in the weirdest way I related to the character a lot. I have spent the biggest part of my life feeling alienated, not fitting in no matter how hard I wanted to. it’s a feeling that will stay with me forever. I now have friends and I feel like I’m doing okay in london, but seeing movies with outcasts as characters always bring be back to that feeling of emptiness and loneliness. it’s very hard to describe and probably sounds crazy. I had similar reactions to lisbeth sanders in «the girl with the dragon tattoo» or martha in «martha marcy may marlene». feeling detached from people, misunderstood, alone – I feel those things in my bones whenever I’m reminded of them. movies that focus on those characters tend to trigger that feeling, leaving me feeling empty for at least a few hours after.

---

favourite scene / moment: 

the nude scene, and not because scarlett was completely naked but because of what I said earlier – the way she managed to completely show a close-up of her body without making it sexual in any way.

---

what I didn’t like: 

honestly, I don’t know. maybe the only piece of criticism I can offer is that there was little plot, but even that isn’t really true. there was a lot of plot if you paid attention.

---

interesting trivia / fun facts: 

a lot of the movie (and almost all dialogue) was unscripted. the scenes where she is walking through glasgow or driving in her van were filmed with hidden cameras, the people in the shots only informed after it had been filmed to get the okay to use the material. those were people’s genuine reactions (for example when scarlett fell, or when she spit out the cake). the men she talks to from inside her van were random passers-by. after I learned that I rewatched the movie and it added so much to the experience from an acting standpoint.

and I just kept thinking, damn scarlett is fucking brave. not only did she show her entire body in a very exposing way, but she behaved like this alien figure in public and did things considered embarrassing or even rude without anyone knowing it was for a movie (her fall even made it into a viral meme because a paparazzo thought she was just out and about as herself and took a dive). that takes a huge amount of balls. forget hollywood blockbustery – to me, this is real fucking acting.

also, the movie was at least 4 or 5 years in the making, and scarlett and jonathan mainly developed the story and everything after they started shooting.

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favourite quotes:

female: «so why do you shop at night then?» deformed man: «people wind me up.» female: «how?» deformed man: «they’re ignorant»

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rating: 10/10.

honestly, watch it. tell me what you think.

[levihauser]

十月の三週間

25 October, 2019

Sorry I have taken so long to write another blog entry! I have been a little busy with stuff here in Japan, so this entry should be filled with interesting events from the past three weeks.

On the fifth, my host niece and nephew, Yuria and Shuudai, came over for lunch. We had pasta (with thousands of tiny fish eggs mixed in-yum!) and crabs. My host mom said that the crabs were small, but they were larger than any I had ever seen. I was told to scrape the meat out of the legs and eat that, as well as the eggs for that. After having had eggs for breakfast, it was a pretty egg-cellent day. There. I hadn’t made a pun yet on this blog, but now you get to put up with one of the most cliché bad puns of all time. I went to our neighbor’s (Mrs. Takamatsu, I think I mentioned her in the most recent post) house to stay the night. I just learned a few days ago that her husband runs one of the 5 most profitable businesses in the prefecture.

The next day, I read in the morning and finished the last book that I had brought with me from the US. We had curry rice for breakfast, then I went with Mrs. Takamatsu to a temple for a Buddhist festival. It was quite a big temple, and very new. The festival was also interesting-everyone just sat in a central room and watched a recording of the same festival happening in a central temple in Tokyo, occasionally chanting, bowing, or clapping along to it. We left early to pick up her husband at the train station. He had just come back from Chicago (a few days later, actually, Mrs. Takamatsu left for Chicago. They have a daughter there, so they visit there a lot). I had my first Japanese-style pizza for lunch. It was very thin-crusted and crunchy, almost like a big cracker. I returned home, then my host parents and I went out for dinner at a nearby specialty restaurant called Nishide. I think they know the people there, and the like eating there, but it is expensive so they don’t do it too often.

The entire next week was midterms for the students at my school (their school year starts in April), so the school days ended at around 11 AM. I couldn’t take the tests, not understanding the language, so I was sent to the library to read and study Japanese.

On the tenth, I had a Rotary meeting. I have started taking Japanese lessons every Thursday at the Matto Cultural Hall near my school, so I have to go straight to the Rotary meeting without going home to change out of my school uniform. This one was in Kanazawa at a special restaurant. We had good food after a short meeting, and played host to a Rotary club that had come to visit all the way from Lake Biwa.

On National P.E. and Sports Day here in Japan (the same day as Columbus/Indigenous Peoples Day in the US), I had no school, so my host mom and dad suggested that I take the train to Kanazawa. I have never ridden the train before, even in the US (unless you count subways and old-fashioned railroads where you pay a lot of money to sit in leather seats and get your ticket punched with an actual ticket puncher), so I was a little worried. I had no problem buying the tickets-the ticket machines have an option to use English-but I accidentally got in the wrong line (I am still not sure what it was for and I haven’t seen one like it since then) and wasted about 40 minutes there without moving before I asked someone and they pointed me in the right direction. I successfully got to Kanazawa Station. One of my classmates was on the same train by coincidence, so I followed them to find my way to the exit. I actually went out the one that my tiny tourist map didn’t cover at first, so I had to go around to the other side. It was raining and windy, so I had some difficulty reading the map and holding my umbrella at the same time. I eventually made my way to Oyama Jinja, a famous shrine just outside of Kanazawa Castle and near Kenrokuen Garden (which is a famous Japanese garden, for those of you who haven’t heard of it). I admired the shrine for a bit and bought a few good luck charms that were for sale there, then returned to the station and went home, since I had to be home before 5 PM. The round trip only cost ¥400.

On the 18th, my school festival began. My school’s festival is a small one, or so I’ve heard, but the Japanese certainly know how to throw one (no offense to anybody back at home, but PHS should take some advice from Matto High School. Those 2-hour pep rallies and shouting contests just don’t cut it). The first day was not at the school, but at the nearby Matto Cultural Hall, since they have an auditorium and the school doesn’t. There were several student presentations and performances, including brass band (I mentioned this earlier. It has won regional awards and is very impressive. They play music that sounds just like the original recordings. They did a specially arranged version of the alma mater as well as the Jurassic Park theme and a few other songs), choir (it is made up of only 7 members, but has beautiful harmonies and keeps in tune perfectly, while creating a huge amount of sound without microphones. They did a song from Sister Act and a few others), taiko (I performed in this one! We borrowed some drums from the Asano Taiko Company, the largest taiko company in the world. The owner and CEO is a member of my host Rotary Club and my school is the only one in the prefecture with a taiko club), and dance (it was very well rehearsed. There were only five members, but I think they created their own routine and it was fun to watch), as well as a short, corny play put on by the teachers in which one of the gym teachers, Mr. Higashi, had to go on a funny adventure to rescue Miss Matto High School 2019 from her kidnappers (either a gang or a group of devils, it was hard to tell without understanding the language) headed by the other gym teacher, Ms. Sawada (everyone loves Ms. Sawada and they were a little disappointed to see her defeated in the end). We returned to the school after the performances finished, then finished preparing and decorating for the next day (I say finished because we had been preparing for this after school for weeks, making paper chains, posters, placemats, paper flowers, etc.), before being dismissed. The next day was a Saturday, but the festivities continued. It was in the school, and was pretty much the “buy stuff” day. We had tickets that cost from ¥50-400 that payed for things ranging from waffles to games of bingo to weird, confined-space bowling to tea ceremony. It took up seven hours, in which I explored, ate lots of food, and went to various events including what they called a 4DX movie, which was essentially an English horror film translated into Japanese and played through tiny speakers while a few students made weird sound effects and threw things (e.g. whacking rulers on desks, throwing foam at backs, and spritzing water from spray cans) to make it “more realistic.” With all of the stuff going on and the voices, I really didn’t pay attention to the movie and instead collected as many of the little foam pieces as I could.

On the twentieth I had my favorite Japanese food for breakfast-hooray, inarizushi! I went to Kanazawa alone by train again and spent about 5 hours wandering about and seeing new things, but forgetting to eat lunch and getting kind of hungry. I returned home at around 4, and was almost immediately told that I was shortly going to a concert with a Rotarian, Ms. Ikemoto (I think she is going to be my third host mom too, but I am not sure). We went to an old, elaborate temple and watched an out-of-place-seeming amateur old folk and country music concert with a couple of English songs and one entirely about curry rice. The musicians were very talented. We went to an udon shop for dinner afterwards and stayed very late because Ms. Ikemoto didn’t want to leave until the match of the Rugby World Cup between Japan and South Africa had finished.

I had the 22nd off of school because of the enthronement of the new emperor of Japan. My host Rotary club counselor, Ms. Nagase, took me to Kanazawa (by train, because the roads were too crowded due to the holiday). She spent 3 years in England a while back, so she speaks fairly good English, which is good for smoothing out misunderstandings. She is a bit of an anglophile and is constantly asking me how to say things in British English. We briefly stopped in at the 21st Century Museum of Modern Art, but it was crowded as usual and we had to leave soon. There was a Moomin exhibition which I would love to have gone to, but the Japanese love Moomin and the entire floor it was on was packed (Moomin is 20th Century art, so how does that fit into the museum?). Next we went to the D.T. Suzuki Museum, which is a small, modern museum celebrating the famous Kanazawa-born philosopher that is its namesake. There were not many people and it was very peaceful. It was even free admission because of the Enthronement Day (upon seeing the sign, Ms. Nagase got very excited and took several pictures-apparently it is very rare at this museum). We went to a fancy sashimi restaurant near the train station for lunch-it was great food, and we got our own special compartment with sliding doors! After lunch, we went to a concert hall right next to Kanazawa Station for a piano concert. The Kanazawa orchestra has a weird mascot named Gargantua that is sort of like a caricature of a conductor. The orchestra was conducted by Keita Matsui, and the three piano concertos were Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major, performed by Yukari Yamada, Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E Minor, performed by Rikono Takeda, and Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E-Flat Major, performed by Marie Kiyone. The performance was all very high-quality, and it was open-seating so we got second-row seats in the perfect spot to watch the pianists’ hands. At the end, all three pianists returned and played a piano trio all on the same piano, which must have been difficult. They were all wearing dresses that I would think would hinder playing (forgive me if I went a little overboard in description there, I am very interested in anything related to piano playing). Ms. Nagase and I returned to Hakusan City by train, then went to her house. Half of it is a 30-year-old addition to the other half, which is 200 years old and barely touched. She has a beautiful yard (a rarity in Japan) and back garden. She showed me around briefly, then we went to walk her dog. After we returned, her husband got home from work. Both of them are very friendly and kind. Ms. Oribe, another Rotarian, had been invited for dinner and arrived shortly, then we walked to a nearby restaurant and had tempura.

There was also no school the next day, to make up for the Saturday that we had come to school for the festival. I studied Japanese for a little while, then on a snap decision decided I wanted to go to Fukui, a city in the neighboring prefecture. I obtained permission, then left. It was only ¥1,100 for each way, and the train ride was an hour and ten minutes on the small trains that stop at every station. I arrived and got some maps at the tourist information center, then set out exploring the city. I walked past some animatronic dinosaurs (that seems to be Fukui’s big tourist attraction, as the prefecture is a paleontological hotspot) and the ruins of the castle (which is now the prefectural government office-what a great workplace! You get to drive across a moat every day). I eventually reached a beautiful mountain in the middle of the city that had been turned into a forested park. It was the closest I have gotten to nature since I have come to Japan. I stopped at a shrine and explored a little more before descending. I continued wandering some more in search of restaurants and candy stores, but the food map I had was either outdated or misleading, and I couldn’t find any of the shops I searched for. At about 4 PM, I settled for some rice balls and ice cream from a convenience store for lunch instead, then returned home. The sun sets so early here, it is difficult to stay much longer and still have a good time.

Yesterday was my school’s P.E. festival. I was told to study Japanese in the school library instead of participating, but all of the other students went to a big park and participated in races and other mandatory events for gym class. I had my Japanese lesson and watched a tea ceremony with a lady who was visiting from Germany who happened to be at the Cultural Hall at the same time before going to the Rotary meeting. This week, a delegation from Hakusan’s sister city, Columbia, Missouri was visiting, so they came to the Rotary meeting and presented in the first half before leaving for some other obligation.

Today has been a fairly normal day so far. I had an average school day followed by an average afternoon, as far as I am allowed to use the word average, being an exchange student to Japan. I have been studying my Kanji (Chinese characters used in Japanese) quite a bit lately and seem to be making some headway. I am looking forward to being literate! I feel like it’s about time, now that I have officially passed the two month mark. Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this long-delayed entry.

Oyama Jinja Shrine:

Kanazawa Station:

I would add more pictures, but it keeps telling me there is an upload error, so I will try again later.

[antikristvs]

Inktober Writing Challenge

(I have been really struggling with the challenge lately. This piece was especially hard given I accidently lost the whole work, thus had to re-write the entire story. I have little time to catch up, but I'm trying. Hope it fucking scares you)

Day 22: A Creepypasta

The Story

I debated bringing this story to light for weeks. It haunts me as clear and vividly gruesome as if the nightmare had unfolded a mere hour ago. I spent day after day wallowing in vodka, however no amount of alcohol rescued me from the bottomless gulf of heartbreak and guilt, or dimmed the abysmal horror lingering like poisonous thorns goring my ailed heart. It seems I have no choice… I shall succumb to insanity looming over me and pull the trigger if it  remains silently locked under my ribs, and my dear friend will have perished in vain. And her kid… He sincerely wanted to help. All this madness, death and agony he roused for me. I must unveil what happened, perhaps then I can breathe once again. I am to keep personal details as vague as possible, for if authorities find out my relation to the tragedy, I may land in more trouble than I can handle.

It began a few months ago. I was a horror author in the spring of career. My first novel, Miasma, had been published the previous year, I found myself in a storm of praises from readers and critics alike. Everyone was starving for my second book rumored to come out the following Halloween. Nobody could possibly know the truth… How hollow I had become, a mummified shell of the creator I once was. I drowned myself in spirits and melted my brain with cocaine to make existence bearable, distancing from friends and loyal admirers. Except one. For the story’s sake, I am going to name her Nellie. We… were morning against midnight, summer against dead of winter. Nellie was a single and eight months pregnant bachelor in family studies with a dream to one day run her own daycare. She had not as much as glanced at my book, far too squeamish for things I depicted, but cherished every part of me. I scorned Nellie for it. Who could adore the cynical addict I was behind a charming mask of blossoming talent… In my mind, no one. Nobody sane at least. I will divulge my soul and sincerely admit Nellie would have been the first person I shunned if not the stubbornness so aberrant to her naive and gentle self. She would not let me decay in peace, ringing the doorbell every fucking day with a flowery paper bag of home-cooked food and a rented DVD. Sometimes, she would even have me tag along to a tiny local coffee shop around the corner, where somehow, I smiled to the green-haired barista and signed a couple of autographs people asked me for. Nellie was the sole reason why I chose not to end it all. And I’m certain she knew. She was mellow, yet not a fool neither blind.  I loathed her, but found it impossible not to love her. She knew I could not bring myself to let her find my lifeless cadaver with skull blown off and brains all over the wall.

Upon stirring awake and noticing it was six in the evening, I caught myself both dismissively relieved and slightly concerned. Nellie always showed up around three in the afternoon to drag me out of bed and scold me for downing five cans of Red Bull to stay restless till ungodly hours of dawn again. Swallowing the worry and assuming she got caught up in university work, I stalked to the kitchen, only to freeze in sheer astonishment oozing with faint and abstract sense of primeval terror. Among the clutter on the table, sat an object which definitely had not been here before - a neatly folded piece of paper. Frowning, I snatched the mysterious item and frantically stared at the elegant note within. Gravely wind gushed through the balcony door I had not realized was open, and my skin grew pale as bone.

“End of the road behind the city park. I shall be waiting upon your wake”

Before spiralling into perpetual gloom, I used to be an avid urbex explorer. I’d gladly risk getting injured or arrested to sate my fascination for the cryptic and the macabre. Even Miasma, my novel, was inspired by an abandoned hospital a few streets away. Thus I certainly was aware about a deserted road behind the city park despite never having stepped a foot on it due to work and later misery devouring all my time. It was enlaced with legends and eerie stories told in slumber parties, university students organized ghost tours there for Halloween, high schoolers filmed themselves sniffing around to impress their crushes. Older folks feared the road like ants fear fire, claiming a curse plagued it, and monstrous specters roamed it on moonless nights. Nobody had dared to complete the route in last two decades, or lived to tell the tale, but an abandoned church was said to still stand at the end quite firm, held together by forces of ancient evil which infested it.

Though I doubt there is any need to mention urbex was no passion of Nellie’s.

I tossed the crumpled note away, grabbing my coat and bursting through the door, not bothering to brush my hair or change the jeans and shirt I had been wearing for last five days. All I hoped was that the hood will obscure my face enough for me not to be recognized.

The city park laid an hour away from my home on foot, and took an hour more to cross it. Without a physical possibility for the police to monitor the entirety of such a large area, the place could get extremely dangerous at night, lunatics, rogue criminals and homeless heroin junkies lurking in the bushes. Yet I could not care less about peril. Dread of something unnamed and far, far more cruel than a knife or a gun awaiting at the end of my destination pulsing like sick, festering aura around me likely  pushed any attacker to turn around anyway. My muscles were burning, sharp twigs whipping my face as I took every possible shortcut. The air was thick and heavy like butter, it felt as if my lungs had been flooded with slowly stagnating slime, robbing me of oxygen and making my head foggy, sight growing dark. I bit my lip harshly, rough, warm taste of iron dripping on my tongue, and pushed forward, struggling not to collapse.

I wish a gasp of ardor had erupted from my throat when indeed, outline of a small, crumbling church of gray stone emerged from the dark. I wish I had gingerly leaped forward, clutching my camera and already spinning a chilling tale in my head. Not limped towards impending doom growing clearer and clearer in front of me, ankle sprained in the rush refusing to obey my sizzling nerves.

What I found inside the forsaken sanctum surged me with such sepulchral, abysmal sensation I fail to flesh out earthly words to recount it. The horror… Oh, the spine-crushing horror. Nellie was here. She gazed straight at me, starry blue of her gaze now glassy, final visage of sheer fright and despair chained in the milky prison until maggots gnaw it away, mouth agape in a wordless greeting muffled by raw red muscle stuffed withing. She laid so heinously beautiful on the split, mouldy altar, broken arms motionless by her side, bare intestines slumped over the edge, blood and yellowish, reeking stomach fluids still trickling and spreading around as if a morbid halo. Her chest… Torn open, flesh and fragments of fractured bone scattered around, a dusty golden Chalice set in the middle. I stumbled backwards, screeching soundlessly. On top of it… placed a severed head of an in infant, so tiny, but almost fully developed, ruthlessly gouged out of a lifeless womb.

What… What in the name of all Saints and Sinners… Was this all a nightmare?.. A hallucination?.. Let it be, please, let it be!..

“Do you like it?” a voice rumbled from my left, guttural, yet serpentine,  shaking every fiber in my body with shock so intense I broke out of paralysis, jumping and turning around to face four blazing amber orbs in the shadows.

The figure rose seven feet above ground, without counting the enormous crooked horns sat upon his head that is. Black as obsidian, his skin merged flawlessly with the murk, or was he cloaked I could not tell.

“I beg you, fear not… I did this all for you” he continued without waiting for a response of mine “For your story. A child once lost a scripture of yours on the road that I wandered. I gave into curiosity, and the way you weave words of terror has bewitched me. I have watched over you ever since… I saw how uneasy your slumber was, I witnessed the pain drained ambrosia has brought you. Please…” he gestured towards the desecration “drink inspiration for your new story”.

[xerxia31]

I wish you would write a fic where peeta has a failing bakery because he isn't able to implement anything new and exciting due to parents etc, and katniss is like gordon ramsay in kitchen nightmare trying to convince peeta that he's not an idiot sandwich. Is that too specific? sorry if it is, i've just been thinking about this for a while...

This took an incredibly long time to write, anon, if you’re still around, I’m sorry for that! But this idea gripped me, and wouldn’t be satisfied with a hundred word drabble…

The B Word

rated T

He had watched her all through middle school, and high school too, had spent years of his life imagining her walking into the bakery his parents owned where he could woo her with artisanal breads and fancy cakes.

But this was definitely not part of his fantasy.

“You are an idiot sandwich!” Katniss Everdeen hollered as she pressed two pieces of bread to the sides of his head. It was the good hearty bread too, filled with raisins and nuts, a bestseller at the bakery and one of his favourites. A myriad of emotions played through his mind; horror and humiliation, a feeling that he just might cry, but beneath was that familiar quickening of his heart rate at the way her white chef’s coat strained to cover her pert breasts. Thump thump thump his heart pounded, and she smirked, even as she pressed the bread more firmly to his ears.

Thump thump thump. “Peeta! Get your ass out of bed!” Peeta Mellark groaned as he pried his eyes open in the darkness and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 3:45 am. The alarm wasn’t set to go off for another fifteen minutes.

“Dammit, Rye, it’s not even four,” he grumbled, dislodging the pillow - flat and slightly drool-dampened - from over his ear.

“That TV show chick is coming today,” the voice hollered through the door. “It’s going to be a big, big, big day!” Rye was far too perky for a quarter to four in the morning. But despite his pique at being awoken early, Peeta couldn’t blame his brother for being excited. Their little bakery was going to be featured on a brand new show from one of the hottest television personalities in Panem.

Kat Flickerman was a household name, her sarcastic and expletive-filled television show, Kitchen Nightmares, was must-watch TV. And her new show, The B Word, featuring small-town bakeries, was promising to be even better. Mellark’s, a staple in District Twelve for over seventy-five years, would be the first establishment showcased. The publicity and sales uptick that came from being featured on the program more than made up for the embarrassment of having a five-foot-nothing firebrand rip apart every aspect of your business. Or so the producers that contacted his brother said.

Peeta wasn’t convinced. After all, he’d been making a fool of himself in front of the former Katniss Everdeen his whole life, and it hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

Neither Rye nor their father seemed to remember that world-famous Kat Flickerman had once been Katniss Everdeen, from the poor part of Twelve. But Peeta remembered. He remembered everything about her, though she’d never paid him any attention.

He remembered her sparkling silver eyes as she skipped through the halls of their elementary school, singing to herself. Eyes that dimmed and hardened after her father’s death. He remembered how hollow her cheeks were in the months after that, when he’d leave part of his lunch in her cubby each morning. He remembered how she’d grown into a solitary, sometimes sullen but always striking young woman who worked and studied and never participated in any of the meagre social activities District Twelve offered.

He even knew how a quiet, shy girl from the wrong side of the tracks parlayed a gig reviewing restaurants for her college’s newspaper into fame and fortune, though that part he’d read on her Wikipedia page. He wasn’t sure he understood it though. The Katniss who’d stolen his heart when he was only a boy wasn’t a lot like the girl on fire he saw on television. Not that he watched her shows.

(He definitely watched her shows.)

But none of that mattered anymore, not really. Because Katniss Everdeen left District Twelve five years ago and had never, as far as Peeta knew, come back. There was no mention of District Twelve in any of her bios or interviews. Katniss Everdeen had essentially disappeared. Kat Flickerman - foul-mouthed, foul-tempered, fire and fury Kat Flickerman - was the woman he was going to meet today. And he was fairly sure she wouldn’t remember him anyway. Probably wouldn’t even notice him, unless it was to berate some mistake he’d made or pick apart the menu items.

o-o-o

Peeta had the display cases full of glossy frosted cookies and perfect cupcakes long before the production crew showed up. He knew that there wouldn’t be any filming that morning, save for some generic ‘before’ shots, but still he wanted to put his best foot forward. Mellark’s might not be world-class, but it had been in his family for generations, it was a part of him. Rye, too, was beaming, polishing the countertops until they gleamed in the shafts of sunlight that came through windows so clean they looked devoid of glass. Their father spent an hour on a ladder, writing the day’s wares on the menu board in practiced chalk strokes. Though District Twelve was nothing more than a tiny backwater village, the Mellark men had their pride.

The group that descended on their small shop was definitely not from around there. Loud voices and loud colours shattered the sleepy District Twelve ambiance. The TV crew consisted of a pair of burly cameramen with heavy mobile cameras encasing their bodies like insect shells, a woman director named Cressida who had a shaved head tattooed with green vines, and her assistant, Messalla, a slim young man with several sets of earrings. On careful observation, it appeared his tongue had been pierced, too, and he was wearing a stud with a silver ball the size of a marble. Peeta shuddered slightly. But missing from the crew was the one woman he’d been longing to see.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. She was the star after all, doubtless she’d breeze in only for her own scenes. But his disappointment was almost tangible.

Peeta opened the front shop and kept it running while Rye and their father walked the crew through the back, mapping out electrical outlets and places where spotlighting could be temporarily installed. Occasionally, the sound of laughter floated forward, but for the most part it was a typical Tuesday morning. The regulars wandered in and out, and he chatted with everyone, the comfort of familiarity soothing him.

He had just packed up some cookies for old Sae’s granddaughter when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Standing in the doorway of the shop was a ghost. Katniss Everdeen.

She wasn’t dressed like Kat Flickerman. Instead of a chef’s coat and crisp black pants, she was wearing jeans and a muted orange sweater. Her black hair was in the braid he remembered from their school days, long and thick, glinting blue in the morning sun. She was stunning.

She’d been glancing around the front shop but then froze, lifting her eyes to Peeta’s, as if feeling the weight of his stare. So many times in school she’d caught him staring, and each time he’d looked away quickly, blushing. But not today. Today he held her silver gaze. And then she smiled. “Katniss,” he whispered, or maybe he just thought it. Either way, her smile widened.

“Hello, Peeta,” she said, and his name in her mouth evoked a rush of arousal so potent he was certain she could see it stealing across his face. “It’s been a long time.”

“Five years,” he said without even realizing. He was stunned she even knew his name. Her eyes widened a little, but her soft smile didn’t fall.

“It looks exactly the same in here,” she said, and Peeta stiffened. It was true that the decor hadn’t changed in a long time, except for the addition of some of his paintings, and the fancy European coffeemaker he’d insisted on when he became a partner after college. He’d always thought that was part of the charm of Mellark’s, it’s dependability. He viewed the warm wood and twinkling glass as classic, elegant. But he’d watched enough of Kat Flickerman’s shows to know that she was seeing only tired and shabby. It hurt to envision what her team might do.

“Well,” he drawled. “Not much ever changes in Twelve.”

“You have,” she said, her eyes sweeping over him and he felt the heat rising in his cheeks. She was right, though it felt kind of shitty to be reminded. In high school, he’d been all state in wrestling, had worked out every day and watched his diet carefully to make weight. Had been even more serious about his sport in college, until a torn ACL killed that. Nowadays, he stayed fit running and playing pick-up football with the guys. He was in good shape, but he knew he wasn’t lean like before. “Yeah,” she said, distracted, her pink tongue snaking out to sweep over her lower lip. He had the distinct impression that she was checking him out. But that couldn’t be. “You look good,” she murmured.

He crooked an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

Her eyes widened. “I just, uh. I mean. Working here. If, uh. If I worked here I’d weigh a ton for sure.”

Peeta laughed; Katniss couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. She’d always been tiny. “You’re around food every day,” he said. She shrugged.

“But everything you make is fantastic.”

A small, pleased smile teased his lips. But before he could respond, one of the Capitol people came through the swinging doors that separated the front shop. “Kat,” she practically yelled. “We weren’t expecting you for a few hours yet, we haven’t started assembling the tasting.”

Katniss stiffened, seeming to grow taller and more menacing before Peeta’s eyes. Her expression darkened and shuttered, a mask sliding into place. It was a fascinating and frightening process. The woman who acknowledged Cressida with a scowl bore only a superficial resemblance to the woman Peeta had been chatting with.

“I told you I would be choosing the menu items to feature,” Katniss said, and the frostiness of her tone made Peeta shiver.

“Of course,” the other woman said. “We could start now?” All of Cressida’s brashness faded into supplication.

Rye and their father had come into the frontshop and were watching the exchange warily. Peeta stood back as Cressida introduced the rest of his family to Kat. “We can set up in the office,” Mr. Mellark said.

Katniss nodded and followed the others through the swinging doors. His father turned back to Peeta. “Could you bring back some coffee?” he asked, and Peeta’s heart sank. Twenty-six years old, and still low man on the totem pole, still the one who was given the grunt jobs, relegated to the wings, or just dismissed outright. As much as he loved the family business, he hated the family dynamic.

Stuck in the shadows or not, Peeta remembered a few things about Katniss that the rest of his family didn’t know, and one of those was her hatred of coffee. Oh, it was likely that she’d learned to tolerate it over the years, as he’d done himself. Still, he thought as he steamed milk; coffee drinkers are born, not made.

He carried a tray ladened with hot beverages back to the room that acted as staff lounge and office for the Mellark men and the handful of part-timers they employed. Already, half-filled plates littered the table top, various bakery items cut open, then abandoned. And at the head of the table like a queen commanding her court was Katniss, still wearing her Kat Flickerman expression, sheafs of yellow notebook paper scattered around her. Peeta set the tray of coffee in the middle of the table, but he grabbed the lone different cup and placed it wordlessly beside Katniss, then backed away, unwilling to disrupt her.

He couldn’t resist glancing back as he exited the room, and he found Katniss watching his retreat, surprise in her silver eyes and the barest hint of a smile stealing across her lush lips as she traced the rim of the mug of hot chocolate he’d brought her with a single slender finger.

o-o-o

Peeta was busy the rest of the day, manning the ovens, covering the phones, serving the lunch rush. His father reappeared a few times to make more coffee or grab something specific from the display cases, but there wasn’t an opportunity to talk. And with Rye occupied in the back, catering to the Capitolites, there wasn’t time for Peeta to take a break either. By the time the rush was over, and Peeta staggered to the back full-bladdered and empty-stomached, the film crew - and Kat Flickerman - were gone. His father was cleaning up the mess they’d left behind in the office, and Rye was staring at a sheet of yellow paper with a particularly sour expression on his face.

“What’s going on?” Peeta asked as he stuffed half a day-old scone in his mouth. Rye grunted, and tossed the paper his way.

“They want all of this ready and plated for that woman tomorrow evening.”

Peeta scanned the list. There were only six items, and all were things they’d typically make anyway. All except the goat cheese and apple tart - they hadn’t made that particular recipe in years. “I don’t understand–” he started, but Rye cut him off.

“She hated everything, she’s going to rip us to shit.” Peeta rolled his eyes, but held his tongue. There was no point in reminding Rye that this had all been his idea.

“It’s going to be fine,” their father’s tired voice broke the silence. “She never said she hated anything, Rye.”

“You saw her,” he barked. “Cutting everything up, barely picking at it before tossing it aside. Big city bitch, probably never tasted real bakery bread in her life.” It was on the tip of Peeta’s tongue to tell his brother that not only was Katniss not a big city girl, but he knew for certain she’d had Mellark’s cheese buns before. But before he could defend Katniss, Rye turned back to him and smirked. “She wants you to be the one on camera with her.”

Peeta nearly choked on his scone. “What?”

“Yeah,” he sneered. “Guess she can tell you’re easy to push around. Bet she makes you cry.” Rye had inherited their late mother’s cruel streak, though he hadn’t aimed it in Peeta’s direction much since her death.

“Fuck you, Rye,” Peeta spat. Rye only laughed.

“Save the backbone for the camera.”

“Boys,” their father groaned, but Peeta had had enough.

“You can close up alone, asshole,” he snipped at Rye, tossing his apron on the table and heading out the back door.

o-o-o

Filming would take place after normal working hours, when the bakery was closed, both to keep compliant with health codes, and to keep small-town busybodies from trying to usurp the spotlight. But that didn’t change the fact that it was a Wednesday. There were customers to serve and orders to fulfil on top of the list of bakery items the show producers wanted ready for closing.

Apparently, Rye’s bad mood persisted. He stormed into the kitchen hours late, after Peeta had done the entire morning prep himself and had been forced to call in frontshop reinforcements - his father and one of the summer students. Rye bashed around the kitchen and snapped at the customers for an hour until their father simply sent him home again.

“He’s just jealous,” Mr. Mellark told his younger son, “Because Katniss asked for you specifically.”

Peeta looked up from the cookie he was painting with delicate white blossoms and arrow-shaped leaves. “You remember her?” he asked, though it was clear his father did. The older man laughed.

“I’m not yet senile, Peet,” he smiled. “She looks different on television, but seeing her in person yesterday, she hasn’t changed much from that little girl who used to come in here with her daddy way back when.”

Peeta chuckled. “I’d say she’s changed a whole lot, Dad. She used to be so reserved.”

“I have a feeling she still is,” he said cryptically. “She certainly wasn’t having any of your brother’s flirting.” Peeta huffed out a laugh; after the way Rye had treated him over the previous twenty-four hours, he couldn’t help feeling a little bit of pleasure in the idea that Rye had struck out.

His own crush on Katniss had nothing to do with that satisfaction.

“She’s a big celebrity now, Dad. She wouldn’t have time for a small-town baker.”

“Not so sure about that either, but Rye wasn’t the baker she was watching,” he muttered before wandering out to the front shop to help the lone part-timer clean up.

Peeta didn’t have time to ponder what his father meant. There were still cupcakes to frost and cheese buns to bake, and the film crew was due within the hour.

o-o-o

A prep team came twenty minutes before closing to get him ready, parking their small trailer in the lot out back. They clipped and tousled and gelled his hair, then powdered his face. Peeta had dressed in a nice blue button down shirt, but that was nixed in favour of a soft red Henley the crew brought along with them, surprisingly in the right size. They even let him push the sleeves up, the way he was most comfortable.

The woman who arrived later with the film crew was the one he knew from television. In a starched white chef’s jacket, and with hair and makeup done, she was gorgeous, fierce, unforgettable.

Peeta was a goner.

He barely saw her, though, as the director demanded his attention, coaching him on what to expect. “Kat doesn’t work well with being told what to say,” she admitted. “So all of the questions tonight will be unscripted.” Peeta nodded. “Think of it as a laid-back chat with a friend,” Cressida smiled, and Peeta barely bit back a snort. Twelve years in the same schools and they’d barely exchanged ten words; a conversation with Katniss Everdeen would be anything but relaxed.

Another half hour of explaining camera blocking and marks, and finally Cressida led him to the front shop, which had been transformed into a stage. Hot lights blinded him, microphones dangled over his head and it felt like a thousand people were crammed into the space.

Then she was there, Katniss. But no, not Katniss, Kat Flickerman. Aloof and business-like, gorgeous but cold. Untouchable.

Everything went exactly as Cressida had explained. Kat asked him questions, about the history of the shop, about the recipes, about the little town where they’d both grown up (though she didn’t mention that part).

Though Peeta was gregarious by nature, this was so far out of his comfort zone, the cameras, the crowd, all of them fixated on him, watching him interact stiffly with the woman he’d had a crush on since before he even knew what that meant. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and more than once he stammered, fell over his own tongue or outright blanked on an answer. He could feel Katniss’s frustration mounting. The fourth (fifth? thirtieth?) time it happened, Katniss cringed and turned away. “Clear the set,” she bellowed.

The crew leapt to attention; within moments, they were alone. Peeta stared at his shoes while he waited for Katniss to dismiss him too. His father was back in the office, perhaps he could take over and save the show.

Then a small, cool hand landed on his forearm, startling him from his misery. “Take a deep breath,” she said. Her voice was gentle, not Kat Flickerman anymore, but Katniss, the woman he often thought of as his Katniss, though she wasn’t that either. But she smiled at him, the barest quirk of her perfect peach lips. And a deep, guttural sigh escaped him as he started to relax. “Good,” she murmured, her hand on his arm squeezing lightly. “Feeling better?” He could only nod.

She pulled over the plate with the delicate painted cookies, smiling softly at the flowers she clearly recognized. “These were always my favourite when I was a kid,” she murmured.

Peeta looked up in confusion. He knew how much Katniss liked Mellark’s cheese buns, but he couldn’t remember a single time she’d bought the cookies. As if reading his mind, she shrugged. “I’ve never eaten one,” she admitted, softly. “They’re far too pretty to eat. But I used to come by with my sister and look at them in the display window.

He could see it in his mind’s eye; Katniss, her hair in two glossy braids, holding the hand of a smaller blonde girl, both peeking through the window. “Not very often,” she whispered. “Your mom was kind of scary, she’d chase us off if we got too close to the glass.”

Peeta cringed, and started to apologize, but Katniss waved him off. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said, still speaking softly, intimately. “You’ve never been anything but kind, always.” She looked away, laughing just lightly under her breath. “I always wondered how you could be so nice, having grown up with her.”

He shrugged, and deflected. “You should try a cookie now. Better late than never.”

Her smile widened, and it transformed her face, elevating her from beautiful to radiant. “Better late than never,” she murmured.

She didn’t eat the cookie, but they continued to talk, and Peeta got more and more comfortable. They talked about recipes - the age-old traditional wares that Mellark’s had been making for generations and the newer flavours and he and Rye enjoyed experimenting with. She admitted that she’d asked for the apple and goat cheese tart because it was one she remembered fondly, something her father had loved all of those years ago.

He filled her in on the things that had happened in Twelve since she moved away, their classmates, who had gotten married, who had children now. She was engrossed and engaged, reminiscing about people Peeta hadn’t even been sure she knew. She laughed at his anecdotes, and it was like bells ringing, clear and bright.

He even found himself telling her how much he loved the bakery, but how he longed to make it more, how he wanted Mellark’s to be a gathering spot, in tradition of the great Parisian cafés. “Have you been to Paris, Peeta?” she asked, and his smile faltered a little. Here he was talking about big cosmopolitan ideas when he’d never even left the district. Katniss, he knew, had been everywhere, had reviewed restaurants not just in Paris, but in Milan and Amsterdam and Vienna… what a fool she must think him, backward, small-town boy with grandiose ideas. He shook his head, embarrassed.

Katniss didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “Paris is awful,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Crowded and loud and it smells like cigarettes and pee.” Peeta laughed lightly and she grinned at him, disarming him completely. “But Twelve isn’t any of those things,” she murmured. “I think this is a perfect spot for a café. People are already drawn here, they already gather at Mellarks. It’s always been so warm and inviting here.” Her words tugged at his heart. That’s exactly how he’d always felt about the family business too, how he’d always hoped others would see it. “I know I’d love to sit here and watch the world go by.”

“With a hot chocolate?” Peeta teased lightly, and she looked away, shyly.

“And a cheese bun,” she murmured.

“I wish you would,” he said, barely breathing. “Come back sometime, I mean.” She met his eyes then, and a myriad of emotions played across her expressive face. He just couldn’t understand what they meant.

She took his hand, shocking him with how good, how intensely right it felt. She guided him over to where the largest of his paintings hung, a spring landscape of the meadow that was on the edge of town, dotted with clover and dandelions. “This is yours, isn’t it?” He nodded. “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed reverently. She paused, and Peeta could see her weighing her words. “I always thought you’d make a career in art, open a gallery maybe.”

Peeta sighed, looking down at where their hands were still linked. He knew she wasn’t intentionally trying to pick at the barely-healed wound of his dead dreams, but it stung.

“You were always drawing in school,” Katniss continued, oblivious to his turmoil. “You designed the yearbook cover one year, and you won that award when we were seniors.” She trailed off, and they stood silently for several long moments. Finally, Peeta blew out a forceful breath.

“My eldest brother was supposed to take over the bakery. He and my mom, they, uh. There was a car accident,” he whispered, voice cracking. He’d been offered a job right out of college, with a studio in the Capitol, but the accident that took his mother and brother forced him home. Katniss squeezed his hand, hard.

“I heard,” she admitted, and it surprised Peeta. The accident was almost four years ago, well after she moved her mother and sister out of this dumpy town, never to return. “I’m sorry.”

Peeta cleared his throat. “Anyway, my dad was all alone here after that, trying to run this place. So Rye and I agreed to become partners.”

They stood silently, looking over the meadow painting, lost in their thoughts. “Are you happy, Peeta?” she asked, barely a whisper.

“Sometimes,” he said. He was happy in that moment, talking with the girl of his dreams, holding her hand, feeling the warmth of her body just inches away. He was happy right then, and that was something at least.

There was a scuffling sound behind them and they sprang apart. It was the red-headed cameraman, tucked unobtrusively to the side. Peeta hadn’t noticed his return until that moment, so focussed was he on Katniss, on talking and connecting with her, something he had never imagined possible.

But all good things must come to an end. “Do you think you can go on? Just the three of us?” Katniss asked. And Peeta nodded.

o-o-o

It was late when Peeta finally staggered home to the apartment he shared, often reluctantly, with Rye. The set tear-down had been pandemonium, people and equipment flying like a tempest, a whirlwind of follow up questions and paperwork and releases and by the time he could take a deep breath, Katniss was gone, slipped away like a thief in the night without even a farewell, before he could ask her if she’d like to go out with him sometime. And while he was trying not to be disappointed, the fact that after they’d shared what he had thought was a real connection she’d simply vanished without a word hurt more than he wanted to admit.

“How did it go?” Rye’s voice drifted from their shared living room. Peeta popped his head in. Rye was slumped on the couch, a tumbler of what could only be whiskey balanced on his thigh.

“Seemed okay,” Peeta said, carefully. It was hard enough to gauge Rye’s mood when he wasn’t drinking, with the addition of alcohol he wasn’t sure which version of his brother he’d find.

Rye smirked, then lifted his other hand, tipping the bottle in Peeta’s direction. “Have a drink with me,” he said. Still, Peeta hesitated. Rye shook his head. “I’m not going to rip your head off, little brother.”

Peeta grabbed a glass from the sideboard and Rye filled it with a couple of fingers of liquid fire. For a while, they simply sipped in silence. “I’m sorry I was a dick earlier,” Rye said quietly.

Knowing how much it cost his brother to apologize, Peeta nodded. He wasn’t really a grudge holder anyway. “It’s fine,” he said.

“It’s not though.” Rye sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I was really hoping this show would be the wake-up call Dad needed to let us make real changes at the bakery. It was supposed to be him in front of the camera, getting dressed down by that woman. When she insisted on you, I saw red.” Rye sighed, and downed the remainder of his glass. “You know he’s going to blame us now for every shitty thing she says.” Rye’s bleary eyes met Peeta’s. “If we’re going to be stuck here forever, we should at least be able to drag this place into the modern era.”

Peeta felt a pang of sympathy for his brother. He wasn’t the only one who’d had to give up his dreams for the future to come help their father run the business that neither of them had ever planned on inheriting. Rye’d had big city plans and a big city girlfriend who dumped him when he moved back home to sleepy District Twelve. He had every right to be bitter, even if he sometimes chose inappropriate targets to lash out at.

“She didn’t say anything mean, anyway,” Peeta said. “The whole thing was pretty tame. Not at all what I was expecting.” The beginning had been rough, but he felt good about what they’d filmed after he’d calmed down. He thought he’d presented Mellark’s in a pretty good light, all things told.

“Naw,” Rye said with a sigh. “They’ll add all of that in later. It’s always voiceovers.” That idea shocked Peeta. Was that possible? Would the screaming, nasty Kat Flickerman only make an appearance in the finished version? Surely not?

o-o-o

Days, and then weeks, passed, and while Peeta thought about Katniss often, there wasn’t a peep from her. Not an email, not a phone call, nothing. A cameraman returned to film some exterior and kitchen shots, and though Peeta tried to ask him about Katniss, he was all but mute on the subject.

There had been something between them, that evening in the bakery, he was sure of it, sure she’d felt it too. He couldn’t understand why she’d disappeared. She hadn’t even said goodbye. As if he hadn’t mattered at all.

Rye’s words rolled around his head, festered, made him doubt everything from that day. He compulsively rewatched old episodes of Kitchen Nightmares, looking for any hint that the screaming and cursing was added in after the fact. It was impossible to tell. But with every installment, his memories of sweet Katniss faded, replaced by the snarling mutt.

With every day that passed, his mood plummeted further. Because Rye was right: the majority of the screaming and vitriol could well have been voiced over. He just couldn’t tell what was real and what was not real

A message on the bakery phone almost two months after the filming convinced him. One of the producers wanted to give them a ‘heads up’ on what to expect for the broadcast, scheduled for the next week. It could only have been a warning. He was about to appear on national television looking like a chump, as useless and pathetic as his mother had always told him he was. Peeta deleted the message without even telling his father or brother about it.

There were two more calls after that. Peeta deleted both of those messages too, unheard. The only thing he couldn’t delete was the ache in his heart.

Every gentle thing she’d said to relax him, to ease him back in front of the camera, it had all been lies. Katniss, no, Kat, had used their past, their tenuous connection, just to manipulate him. Just to make him look like the idiot he was.

o-o-o

“I booked the lodge for our viewing party.”

Peeta glanced up from the wedding cake he was working on to stare at his father in confusion. “What?”

“With how many people want to watch the show, I can’t fit them all in at the house.” Peeta’s father still stubbornly lived alone in the bungalow where Peeta had grown up. It was large enough to host two dozen or so, at least.

“They all have televisions, they can watch at home,” Peeta grumbled. Despite his best efforts to ignore the existence of Kat Flickerman’s show entirely, the local station had been aggressively promoting the upcoming episode. Someone from the morning news had been in the week before, interviewing Rye and their father. Peeta had refused to take part.

“My boy,” his father laughed, steadfastly ignoring Peeta’s pique, as he had for weeks. As they’d all done for weeks. His mood had gotten progressively worse the more he thought about Katniss and how she’d used him, and he knew everyone around him could tell. “This is a great occasion! Our little bakery on national television. Of course we’re going to celebrate with all of our friends and customers.” Peeta cringed, but his father continued, undeterred. “I wish my own father was here to see it.”

The reminder of how much this meant to his father had Peeta feeling even worse. “Dad, it’ll be embarrassing, for all of us. I’m going to look like an idiot. People are going to stay away from Mellark’s after that.” He knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t care.

His father smiled. “I spoke with that director, Peet, the one with the strange tattoos? She called the house the other night.” Peeta groaned inwardly; he’d underestimated that woman’s tenacity. “She says the show looks great, that you were a natural.” Peeta knew there was no point arguing with his father. Once the elder Mellark had his mind set, he was intractable.

“How many people did you invite?” Peeta groused.

“Oh sixty, maybe. Plus the guys from the bowling league.” Peeta’s heart sank; at this rate, the entire town was going to be witness to his humiliation. “But don’t worry, I’m having Rooba cater it.”

“Geez, Dad, don’t you think that’s too much?” The elder Mellark set down his own piping bag and grasped his son’s shoulders, turning him until they were face to face.

“What’s gotten into you, son? You’re not usually this pessimistic,” he said, his hands squeezing soothingly. It took every bit of Peeta’s strength to hold his tongue. As much as he loved his father, the shame was his alone to bear.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just don’t think it went very well.” The two men stared at each other, and Peeta knew without a doubt that his father hadn’t bought his explanation. But he wasn’t ready to share his heartbreak, his stupidity. He’d been so caught up in that long-held crush he’d almost willfully ignored reality. Mr. Mellark simply sighed.

“I wish you’d talk to me Peeta. But okay.” He clapped Peeta on the shoulder, and turned back to his work.

o-o-o

Three days before the show was to air, there was a call on Peeta’s cell from an unfamiliar number. He let it go to voicemail. The bakery phone had been ringing non-stop it seemed with calls from media outlets, wanting interviews in advance of the airing. He assumed one of his well-meaning friends had given his number to someone at the D12 Gazette.

But when he picked up the message later, he nearly dropped his phone in the sink.

It was Katniss.

The message was brief, simply a request for him to return her call and a number, her number.

Peeta had no intention of calling her back. But it didn’t stop him from listening to the message five, ten, fifteen times.

There were two more messages the next day. He wanted to delete them unheard, but he couldn’t. Even wounded and wary, the bone-deep need to hear her voice prevailed. The content of each was the same, but her tone seemed progressively more urgent. The sound of her voice, the way she called herself Katniss instead of Kat, all of it pulled at his heartstrings, confused him even more.

The same cowardice and insecurity that had kept him from seeking her out their whole childhood silenced him now. Though his fingers twitched to redial her number, he did nothing.

o-o-o

“I said no, Dad.” Peeta knew he was being petulant but on this point he was firm: he was not going to his father’s viewing party. He’d capitulated to helping his father set up, he wasn’t a complete dick. But he’d decided the best thing for him to do would be to hole up in his apartment during the actual airing.

If only because he couldn’t get a last minute flight out of the country.

Rye, ironically, had been the most understanding about Peeta’s desire to avoid the show and all of the insanity their father was planning around it. “I’ll text you,” he said the evening before, when Peeta told him he wasn’t even intending on watching. “Let you know how bad it is.”

“I just don’t understand what you’re afraid of,” Mr. Mellark said with a shake of his head. “You’re going to be on national television, it’s exciting. The promos look terrific.” Those, Peeta had been unable to avoid. And while they hadn’t looked scathing, he no longer trusted his instincts.

“You’ve watched her other shows,” he groaned, the thousandth time he’d made the same argument, but his father was having none of it.

“This was different and you know it. You had a connection with Katniss, we could all see it.”

“Stop,” Peeta barked, and his father’s eyes widened. Peeta cringed, sad and ashamed of himself for taking his foul mood out on his father. “That was just for the cameras,” he said softly, giving voice to what his head had been telling him for weeks. “None of that was real.”

“You’re wrong, Peet. I know what I saw.”

“You know I had a crush on her, that’s all,” Peeta groaned, but his father cut him off.

“No,” has said firmly. “I saw how she looked at you.”

“Then why did she disappear? Two months, Dad, and not a word.” It wasn’t completely accurate, but Peeta wasn’t going to mention the messages to his father, who would surely read more into them than was there.

“I don’t know, son. Maybe for the same reason you’re avoiding her now.” Peeta shot a startled look at his father, who simply shook his head.

o-o-o

Peeta paced his apartment like a caged tiger, the dark television taunting him. The broadcast was scheduled to start any minute, his father’s party was more than an hour old, and he was alone with only a six pack of microbrew and his demons to keep him company.

One last message had come to his phone just a couple of hours earlier, a text message this time. Please talk to me, Peeta, was all it read. He’d been so tempted, so damned tempted to reply. Had started typing a dozen times, but erased every word. What could they possibly have to say to each other now? Too much time had passed.

The television called to him though, a siren song he was powerless to resist. He told himself he’d only watch the beginning, would shut it off as soon as she started yelling. But the moment Katniss appeared onscreen in the opening credits, beautiful face larger than life with glossed lips smirking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away.

The tone of the program was markedly different from her Kitchen Nightmares shows. The camera showed flattering pictures of the exterior and interior of the bakery while his own voice spoke overtop, recounting the history, the generations of Mellarks who had lovingly built the bakery into the the hub of District Twelve that it was.

But that was only the beginning.

The video unfurled almost like a love letter. But not to the bakery, or not exactly anyway. Instead, it showed Peeta himself, over and over. Peeta painstakingly frosting gorgeous cupcakes. Peeta laughing with a customer. Peeta kneeling before one of the small children that frequented the shop, handing her a cookie from the jar he kept behind the counter. Typical scenes from his everyday work, scenes he hadn’t even realized he’d been filmed in. Over and over he was shown smiling, laughing, creating.

Finally, Kat Flickerman began to speak. Rye was right that her part would be voiceovers, would be words she hadn’t spoken during the interview. But there was no swearing, no cursing. No yelling about the quality of the food or the shabbiness of the surroundings. No idiot sandwiches.

Kat Flickerman, Katniss, talked about the warm, welcoming atmosphere at Mellark’s, the three kind bakers who treated every customer like a friend. She paraphrased Peeta’s own hushed confessions about the improvements he wanted to make, and presented them as if they were things already planned to be implemented. Peeta, sitting on the couch in his apartment, laughed out loud. Somehow, Katniss had managed to manipulate the entire show in a way that would force his father to bring Mellark’s into the modern era after all. As if she knew exactly what he wanted.

Of course, she had known. He’d told her, when they’d spoken so intimately, about his hopes. He hadn’t realized how closely she was listening. But now, as he thought back, he understood that she’d directed their discussion back to his dreams for the future, time and again, and then worked all of those things into the show.

All but the one he hadn’t confessed. How he felt about her. How he thought she was gorgeous, more radiant than the sun. And now, because he’d wasted so long being wounded, he’d never get the chance.

His phone buzzed near continuously on the table beside him, but he didn’t spare it a glance.

As the ending credits rolled, there was a gentle tap-tap-tap at the apartment door. It could have been any number of people, friends or neighbours who knew he was home. But as he stood to answer, he was struck with the certainty that it was Katniss standing on the other side.

His hands shook as he unbolted the door and pulled it open. She wore a dress the colour of candlelight, her hair was loose and she had just a hint of makeup. “You didn’t come to the party,” she said, a glint of accusation in her silver eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d be there,” he said honestly, unblinking as he took her in. As if he could have forgotten how beautiful she was, watching her shows compulsively over the past few weeks. But the camera never captured her luminosity, the way she lit up a room, commanded the attention of everyone within it. He was awestruck.

“Your father invited me,” she murmured. “Can I come in?” Peeta shook off his stupor and ushered her into his space with a muttered apology.

The television still blared, playing a Food Network promo, and Peeta quickly muted it. “Did, you, uh. Did you want a drink? Beer?” Peeta asked, not meeting her eyes. She nodded.

Only when they were settled side by side on his couch did Katniss speak again. “You watched?” It wasn’t a question, not really. Peeta nodded. She raised a single eyebrow at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” he said quietly. She frowned.

“You were waiting for me to scream, rip apart your family business, destroy your reputation?” There was no amusement in her tone. Peeta felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Kind of,” he admitted.

She’s silent for a long time, picking at the edge of the label on her bottle. “Did you really think I’d do that to you?” she asked, and there was a fragility, a vulnerability to the words.

Peeta sighed. “I didn’t know what to think,” he said.

“I thought…” She sighed. “The way we… connected,” she whispered. “I guess I thought you’d know.”

Peeta battled with himself briefly, whether to be honest with her or not. The warm room, the beer and the uncertainty in her eyes convinced him. “I couldn’t tell what was real,” he said, “and what was for the camera.”

“You really thought I’d manipulate you like that?” Katniss stared at the bottle in her hands, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know my reputation, I know that people think I’m a bitch,” she said softly. “But we’ve known each other since we were children. I thought you knew me. The real me, at least a little.” She glanced up at him and his breath caught. She was so open, so guileless. But he still wasn’t certain what to believe.

“We never really spoke, back then,” he said. “And I know that was my fault. I was a coward.”

Katniss shook her head. “You were always kind, even when no one else noticed I existed. You saved me back then, you know. When my mom lost herself.” Those stunning silver eyes searched his own. “I owe you.”

“You’ve never owed me anything,” Peeta said, but Katniss wasn’t done talking. She set her bottle on the table and turned slightly to face him.

“That’s why I did this show. To pay you back.” Peeta was more confused than ever. “I had a plan,” she continued. “When I heard that you were here, instead of in the Capitol, I started lobbying the network to create this show.”

“What?”

“Delly Cartwright,” she said. “My sister keeps in touch with her brother. She said that you were back home, running the bakery. It took awhile to get the go-ahead for this show.” He’d been at the bakery more than three years, surely she didn’t mean that long? “I’ve always kept track of you,” she said, answering his unasked question.

“Why?” His voice was hoarse. She shrugged helplessly. “You disappeared, after the taping,” he blurted. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was really confused. And afraid.”

“Of me?” Peeta was incredulous.

“I’ve never been able to forget you, Peeta. I only intended on breezing in, giving you some publicity, then leaving again.” She brushed her hands together, as if wiping him away. “I thought paying you back would get you out of my mind.” Peeta flinched; that hurt to hear. He dropped his gaze to the bottle in his hands and swallowed back his disappointment.

“But then I got here,” she continued. “And you were even nicer than I remembered. And…” He glanced up at the pause. She was biting her bottom lip, her cheeks were flaming. “And even more handsome. I didn’t expect to be so attracted to you,” she whispered.

They stared at each other, the air between them charged. Then Katniss began to squirm, as if embarrassed.

“I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember,” Peeta said, and Katniss’s eyes widened.

“Me?” she squeaked.

“You really don’t understand the effect you have on me. That’s why I was such a doofus when you were at the bakery. I’ve never known how to talk to you.”

“You did just fine,” she smiled, tiny and tentative, but real. “I didn’t want to leave. It, uh. Well, it scared the crap out of me. I’m not very good with people.”

“You’re here now,” he said. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Katniss said. “But I want to find out.”

She shuffled just a tiny bit closer to him, and he reached out a tentative hand to cup her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, thick black lashes brushing her cheek. When he finally pressed his lips against hers, she sighed, and in that tiny, involuntary noise he found certainty.

The kiss was slow, almost chaste, a teaser of what could be possible.

A slow smile spread across his face as he pulled back, staring into her hazy silver eyes. Was it possible, that they could be on the same page? But as quickly as the hope flared it his chest, it was extinguished. Katniss, Kat, had a life, a busy life full of travel and tapings and all of it far from sleepy District Twelve. What they shared at the bakery, what they were sharing now, that was all they’d ever get. His hand dropped into his lap, his eyes followed suit.

“I, um. I’m going to be producing the new show out of a little studio in Victor’s Village,” she said. “I signed the lease on the studio space three weeks ago.” They were still so close that he could feel the words on his skin, a caress. A promise.

Victor’s Village was only a twenty minute drive away. Peeta shook his head, certain he’d heard wrong. “I thought you lived in the Capitol?”

“I do, or, well, I did anyway,” Katniss said. “I moved my mother there as soon as I could afford to. It was too hard for her, being in Twelve, surrounded by all of her memories.” Katniss pursed her lips, and Peeta’s eyes were drawn to them, plump and perfectly kissable. Lips he’d now tasted, after so many years of imagining. “But it’s the opposite for me,” she continued. “I hate the Capitol, I hate the noise and the crowds and the smell. Being back here, it made me realize how much I missed it. Missed home.”

“You’re going to be living in Victor’s Village?” Peeta asked, still struggling to understand what was happening. Katniss shrugged.

“I was thinking twenty minutes isn’t such a bad commute. Maybe…” she trailed off, then sighed. “Maybe it’s time for me to come home, where I belong.”

“To Twelve?” He could hardly breathe.

“I’d still have to travel a lot, for filmings. But yeah.” She laughed. “The people here, they don’t care about Kat Flickerman. To them, I’m Russ Everdeen’s kid, not some hot shot television personality. I walked here, from your dad’s party, and there was no paparazzi, no TMZ following my every move. There was just old Mr. Mitchell waving at me from his porch and asking after my mother.”

This time, Katniss reached for him, her small hand cool against his feverish skin. “And you’re here,” she whispered, just before she kissed him. This time, he was the one moaning as her tongue curled around his own.

With a little tug, she was in his lap, and he marvelled at how perfectly her body fit against his, how right she felt in his arms. Kissing Katniss Everdeen was incredible, something he was certain he’d never get enough of.

“Peeta,” she whispered against his lips. “I want–”

The door to the apartment crashed open, startling Peeta, pulling them apart. “Peet, why aren’t you answering your phone? You’ll never– oh.” Rye stood before them, slack-jawed. Katniss buried her face in Peeta’s shoulder, but he could feel her smile.  

“Okay,” Rye chuckled. “Yeah. This uh. This makes a lot of sense. I’ll just…” He turned back towards the door.

“Rye,” Peeta called before his brother could leave. “Is Dad okay?”

Rye glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. “Yeah, man. He really is. I’ll tell you more later. Or tomorrow.” And with one last laugh, he was gone.

“Cockblocked,” Peeta groaned, and Katniss laughed, hugging him tightly. He stroked her hair as his heart rate slowed.

Peeta smiled down at the woman in his arms, who was still laughing softly. He kissed the tip of her nose. Though he longed to go right back to making out with her, he was grateful for the interruption. After waiting so long, they both deserved to do things right. “Have you eaten?” he asked. She shook her head. “Let me take you out for dinner,” he said, the words he’d wanted to say all of those weeks ago.

“I’d like that,” Katniss smiled.

————–

I wish you would write a fic where...

[frustratedcastingdirector]

THE WAITER - AFTER A DECADE OF BIDING HIS TIME BUSING TABLES AND POURING DRINKS, RED-HOT ACTOR MARK RUFFALO IS FINALLY STARTING TO CLEAN UP.

September 4, 2004

Author/Byline: William Booth - The Washington Post

Mark Ruffalo is sitting alone in the back of Victor's Deli in Los Angeles in late afternoon sun, a weekday, the place dead. He is wearing a blue velour jacket, jeans and a loose, white button shirt. The silver chain around his neck holds a St. Christopher medal, patron saint of protection. He is rumpled, hair and clothes, like he just came out of the dryer. He waves hello.

Not too long ago, during his decade as a struggling actor, this was the kind of place where Ruffalo punched a time clock. He was a busboy at the faux-'50s malt shop Ed Debevic's, where 10-year-old girls have their birthday parties. He was a waiter, doorman, caterer, bartender at a series of now-shuttered watering holes where he slung martinis and Midori cocktails to the Hollywood swells. He painted houses. And dug holes and stuck plants in the ground, and thought a lot about going back to Wisconsin to work for his dad, where he would make a new life sandblasting water towers. He acted in more than 30 plays in 10 years. At the bars he worked, Ruffalo would hand fliers to customers; they never came to see him on stage. "You're totally invisible," he remembers. "You're just a conduit between them and a drink. Like a drug dealer. Of course, 99 percent of what people say in bars is absolute crap. Girls come to understand this rather quickly." Ruffalo laughs; he laughs a lot, a slurry heheheheh. It's a good thing he didn't quit because now he's one of the most interesting actors working in Hollywood -- appearing in both the thriller Collateral and We Don't Live Here Anymore, an intense film opening Friday based on the short stories of Andre Dubus in which he cheats on his wife (Laura Dern) with his best friend's spouse (Naomi Watts). Maybe because he was trained in the theater, Ruffalo, 36, can actually act, and his work in even mediocre films is often singled out. He repeats a mantra: You serve the material. He possesses the craft to disappear into his characters, and some of them are not very appealing, but they are not dull. Ruffalo -- say "rough," not "roof" -- broke into the public consciousness by going east, earning an off-Broadway rave as a slouchy, funny, nihilistic brat in Kenneth Lonergan's 1997 play This Is Our Youth. A New York critic compared Ruffalo to a young Marlon Brando. That's the kind of press that changes a career. Ruffalo followed it with the lead in Lonergan's film You Can Count on Me (2000) for his turn as Terry, a boy-man, lost but redeemable. The kind of man women cook eggs for in the morning. Then he worked beside Robert Redford in The Last Castle and Nicolas Cage in Windtalkers. Then, just as he began to orbit, Ruffalo plunged back to Earth. It was almost like a movie: The talented young man had a very bad dream that something was growing inside his head. And when the surgeons laid him out on the cold table, and opened his skull, they found that he was quite right. He had a brain tumor that was, mercifully, pronounced benign. He's OK now. But he is also a changed man. And, he thinks, probably a better artist for it. But what a way to learn. He orders lemonade with iced tea. "I can't bring myself to call it an Arnold Palmer," he says.

A STREET-FIGHTER TYPE

To describe Ruffalo as good-looking doesn't do it. He is handsome in the Italian way, lean and lithe and hairy, dark meat to Brad Pitt's white, with a Roman nose and a full mouth and emotive eyes that, in his movie roles, register confusion and wound and hunger. "For all those years it felt like Los Angeles just didn't get me," he says. "This one casting director told me they don't look for guys like you out here in L.A. They look for guys like you in New York. ... Out here, maybe episodic TV turns out a beautiful, easily accessible type. I was blue-collar, street-fighter type. The darker tones, you know? That's what they said." He pauses. "Although you never really know what anybody is talking about. That's one of the problems with language." In his press clips, he's often referred to as the thinking woman's sex symbol, and as the New York detective in Jane Campion's kinky In the Cut (2003), he gives good reason for the rep when he sets upon co-star Meg Ryan like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Ruffalo didn't go to college, instead attending the Stella Adler Academy, the well-regarded Los Angeles acting school that trained Robert De Niro and Chris Cooper. Benicio Del Toro was the star pupil. Ruffalo estimates that he went to more than 800 auditions in eight years. "I wasn't getting anything. I tried for voice-overs, commercials, TV, everything," he says. What he eventually got was a Clearasil commercial. Then he won a couple of parts in little horror movies. They were not good films. "It is so hard. Not a good job for depressives. For manics it's OK. I'm really envious of the manics," Ruffalo says. "I only got one-half of the equation." His talent agency dumped him. "I wasn't making them any money, so who could blame them?" he says. "I was doing whatever I could to get before a camera, even to the point of lying to do a non-SAG, nonunion movie so I wouldn't get bounced out" of the Screen Actors Guild. "But I got thrown out anyway because I didn't pay my dues for two years. I went to them and threw myself before the board: Man, I haven't been working. I'm starving. I'm depressed. They were like, cough it up." Ruffalo must have thought of quitting. "All the time," he says. "A lot of times where in the darkest night of the soul, you wanta give up everything. You work so hard, it means so much, and so little return, or encouragement, and you're just, screw this, I can't go on like this. It's too hard on me. Something about it, it's maddening. I mean, you go a little crazy from this total absolute wall of rejection." But Ruffalo kept working in his little plays. Twenty people in the audience, half of them friends. Casting directors would promise to come, then blow him off. He wrote; he directed. He says he isn't bitter. "Frankly, I probably wasn't very good at that time, so there was probably a reason I wasn't getting parts," he says. "I often think back to what would have happened if I had gotten all the things I wanted. I wouldn't be the actor I am today. I tell you, it was 10 years of acting before I began to have any sort of -- I don't know really -- interesting stuff going on in my work. It was only out of really difficult times that I grew the really deep roots I needed to be the actor I was hoping to become."

THE THING IN HIS HEAD

He never experienced headaches, blurred vision or problems with balance. There was a slight, almost imperceptible hearing loss in his left ear. He was newly married to the French actress Sunrise Coigney, and they had a baby, Keen. One night, "I dreamt I had a brain tumor, of all things. It was such a real dream, I followed up on it, and wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," he says. "I thought that was it for me."

The operation lasted 10 hours. He reacted badly to the anesthesia. Six months of recovery. He lost 40 pounds. Another 10 months before he worked again, in In the Cut.

"All these crazy things go into it when someone tinkers with your brain. What if they took away something important, that was talent? What if that was what made me special? I wasn't sure I still had it."

In many interviews now, he declines to talk about the brain tumor, saying he doesn't want to be seen as some kind of medical miracle. "But it is part of my life, you know? A big part," he says. "It focuses your attention and your intentions. It makes you aware of a lot more. The choices. The way you appreciate things."

It made him focus on what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. "If, you know, I survived and everything." Then the laugh again, heheheheh, and he exhales a long, drawn-out expletive.

STEADY WORK AT LAST

In the past few months, Ruffalo has appeared as Jennifer Garner's dreamy boyfriend in the frothy 13 Going on 30, the tech geek bouncing on the bed with Kirsten Dunst in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the cop Fanning in Collateral, and now the cheating heart in We Don't Live Here Anymore. His performance in 13 was actually a challenge for him. "I usually play parts where I'm able to hide behind the character. I can disappear. But in that one, I was this nice, stable, normal, decent guy. And that was hard, man. I kept wondering, what do I do with my hands? Do I just keep them in my pockets?" We Don't Live Here Anymore is more of a Ruffalo movie. Took 25 years to get made. "The subject matter scared them," Ruffalo says. Originally, Dustin Hoffman was signed to play Ruffalo's part -- back in the 1970s. The movie is brutal. There are scenes that may remind some couples of their worst moments; but there is also something almost funny in the struggles of these mortals. "These humans are raked over the coals," Ruffalo says. "Can two people come back from such painful misdoings? This season of infidelity? I felt it was an honest and mature look at marriage in crisis, and everybody is afraid to make these movies nowadays. Everyone wants to be entertained, to make things easy." This was a chance to make a movie that is very much like the plays he spent his decade performing. "It's a script and it's acting. There's no tent pole, no set piece, no action sequence, no mystery, no suspense, and so I'm really proud of it as an acting piece. It had to be pitched just perfect. "What I like about it here are these people. The characters. The actors. They're on the line. They're vulnerable, out there, in the moment, no safety net. And what they really have to do is count on each other."

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Forgot to make a note on a needed correction in the article.  Ruffalo GAINED 40 pounds during his recovery from brain surgery, not the opposite.  It was a side effect of the steroids the doctors put him on.  Of course later, he had to lose the 40 pounds....

[foslad]

Almost Too Good (A Chris Evans Story): Part 16

A/N: Back with a slow burning long chapterrrr. But hopefully the little flame at the end is enough to make up for HOW LONG IT’S BEEN! I’m so grateful to each and everyone of you that continue to be here and read this story! It doesn’t go unnoticed!! Love love love!

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The morning after my little “shower date” with Chris, I predictably woke up with a little pep in my step. The feeling of his hands breezing across my wet skin had stayed with me long into my dreams and I felt a certain contentment as I got ready for work the next day.

It was set to be a long day but it was made decidedly better when, soon after I arrived at the studio, Chris texted and offered to stop by during my lunch break.

“I have a takeout sandwich place in mind with your name on it Warner.”

As my makeup was being applied for the day, I felt my heart swell a little at the idea of him making room for me. I was well aware his trip to LA wasn’t an intentional stop just to see me; he had other things to do besides.

As the day wore on, I’d catch myself between takes sending him little texts here and there. I just couldn’t help myself.

Given the fact I only had roughly around an hour for lunch, my trailer was deemed the most appropriate meeting point. 

When I finished up my scene a touch early, I excitedly rushed back to my little refuge to tidy up and make sure everything was presentable for when my visitor got here. I phoned down to the gate of the studio to let them know I was expecting someone and then set about fluffing the pillows for the millionth time.

When the inevitable *knock, knock, knock* came, my body flew into a slurry of hair swoops, deep breaths and butterflies.

How? How, after all this time, was he still eliciting this kind of reaction from me!?

-

As we sat there, indulging in both our meals and each other’s company, I had decided a few minutes ago that now was as good a time as any to fill him in on Amy’s absence.

‘You’re kidding? Both arms!?’ His mouth fell open as he stared at me in horror.

‘I wish! Two clean breaks.’ I shuddered at the very thought of it all. ‘The doctor said he was lucky to even be alive because the impact had been so hard. If I remember what Amy’s mom said correctly, the driver actually turned himself in because he was convinced he’d killed him.’

‘Jesus, that’s awful!’ Chris recoiled. ‘Your assistant must’ve been devastated.’ He paused and thought about it for a second. ‘Or, relieved I guess...’

‘Mostly relieved. They’ve been together eight years now, I think she would’ve reached the point of no return if she’d lost him.’

‘Well it was nice of you to give her the time off.’ He commented as he ducked down to let Dodger off his leash to go and inspect the room. It wasn’t a giant trailer, just enough for a vanity, seating area with a table (that Chris and I were now sat opposite each other on), a railing for my wardrobe choices for that day and then a small bathroom. However, it was enough by means of exploration to the pup and he happily set off to wander the unfamiliar territory.

‘Are you kidding me? Amy’s practically family, I’d do anything for her!’ I took another bite of the delicious sandwich Chris had brought me and hummed in approval.

‘Are you struggling?’ He asked as a he took a sip of his water. ‘Without her?’

‘A little.’ I admitted with a small shrug. ‘I have work until five, which in Ben terms means eight, and then I have to run through my questions for this upcoming Vogue project I’m doing. So that means my weekend will most likely be spent catching up on bits like getting my dry cleaning, going to my PO box, grocery shopping - the boring things that Amy would normally do I guess. I think I have a promotional interview for Gucci on Saturday but I’m not a hundred percent, so I’ll have to double check that…’

Talking about my daily tasks was enough to bore Dodger, who had found a spot under my vanity table to curl up and nap in, never mind the actual humans in the room.

‘Anyways, enough about me and my pretentious needs.’ I set my sandwich down and waved my hands in the air, as if that would help get rid of the lame atmosphere I’d created. ‘How have you been? I feel like we didn’t get a chance to talk properly yesterday.’

Shifting in his chair, Chris seemed uncomfortable to have had the baton passed to him and he simply reached up and fiddled with his baseball cap instead. I could tell he was holding back on something and that, for whatever reason, my to-do list had affected him in a way I couldn’t read. I reached across and gave him a little nudge with my knee to bring him back down to reality.

‘You okay?’

‘Oh yeah, I’m fine. Alllll good.’

I raised my eyebrow at him, unconvinced.

He couldn’t avoid my gaze forever and eventually he heaved a sigh as he calculated what to say.

‘Look, Adrian,’ he started eventually, ‘I’ve been thinking about it all morning and I just wanted to say that... I’m sorry about last night.’

I creased my forehead in confusion, ‘What? Why?’ I certainly wasn’t sorry about it…

‘Well for starters, I told you’d I’d give you some space to think things through, and last night I disregarded that promise, to say the least.’

I let a silence fall over us as I soaked in his words. No, no, no, this wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to pan out!

‘And I feel like I crossed a line. We said we’d feel things out as friends first for a while, you know? Now isn’t exactly ideal timing for either of us, clearly.’

‘Are you saying you regret it?’ I folded my arms, unable to hide my unimpressed stance at his sudden change of heart.

‘No.’ He answered without missing a beat. ‘I’m not saying that at all.’ He paused before asking, hesitantly. ‘Why, do you?’

‘No?’ Despite my matching answer, I was suddenly left feeling a little exposed by his one step forward, two steps back approach. I mean technically yes, it wasn’t ideal in terms of the fact we were based in different states at the moment but what’s new about that? It’s how it’s always been!

He nodded his head at my reply before turning away and picking up his sandwich, taking another bite.

Uhhhhh, this conversation isn’t over?

My eyes bore into him as I waited for him to say something that would make me feel a little better about the situation than I did right now. Surely, he couldn’t say something like that and then just leave the topic up in the air like this?

When a minute or so had passed, I felt like a deflated beach ball ready to pop. As I opened my mouth fully ready to protest his hot and cold behavior, I found myself stopped in my tracks at the sound of a knock on my trailer door. The firm strikes provoked a once peaceful Dodger to start barking.

‘Come in.’ I called, despite not taking my eyes off of a somewhat guilty looking Chris.

‘Hey hey, only me.’ Ben’s friendly voice resounded and I found myself slapping on a fake smile as he came into view.

Although Ben seemed initially bewildered to see him, I continued to sit on the couch as I watched he and Chris greet one another. Unbeknownst to me, they were apparently long-time-no-see kinda pals.

I wasn’t even aware they knew each other? Must be a Boston thing.

After a brief man hug, I inwardly cringed as Ben eyed us back and forth.

‘I didn’t know you two.. knew each other?’ His tone was anything but subtle.

‘I could say the same for you.’ I piped up, ‘What’s up?’

I was desperately willing the conversation away from the obvious question of why Chris Evans was in my trailer. Considering I wasn’t best pleased with Mr Evans at this present moment, I didn’t feel like divulging what we were exactly because embarrassingly, right now I had no clue as to the actual answer to that.

‘I’m in a fuck it mood. Mona’s stuck in Atlanta, the power in the studio keeps cutting out because of some sort of damage from last night’s rain, Ryan’s called in sick and since he was in most of the shots I wanted to get done, I’ve decided I’m just gonna cancel shooting for the rest of today.’

‘Really?’ I asked, wholly surprised. ‘You don’t wanna run something else?’

‘Honestly, I’m so fucking stressed right now, I think we could all use having the rest of the day off.’ He declared boldly. I nodded in sympathy, well aware of the “over-budget” issues we’d been having on top of everything else.

After seeing that I was okay with the cancellation, Ben’s eyes then went back to Chris. ‘Hey, uh, you still living over in Hollywood?’

Shaking his head, Chis replied kindly. ‘Nah, I’m a Los Feliz man now.’

‘Sweet. Listen, if you got time, you wanna grab a drink later?’ Ben asked. His voice cracked in an almost pleading note. In fairness, my heart broke for him really. Not only was the film tipping over budget, he was also going through a hard time in his personal life and clearly little things like a drink with a familiar face gave him a lot of pleasure these days.

‘Uhh..’ Chris folded his arms as he “mulled” over his reply. I felt a slight hint of satisfaction when I caught his eyes quickly flutter over to meet my own as a means of deducing how pissed I would be if he ditched me to go drinking with my boss. Unsurprisingly, the answer was very.

Not one to miss a beat, I admired Ben for quickly noting Chris’ reluctance and the sudden tension it was causing between us. With a quick cough, he inquired ‘You’re coming too, right Adrian?’

Once again, a pair of blue eyes flew over to my direction.

Well, if Mr Friendship wants to play, then two could play the game.

‘Sure.’ I replied nonchalantly. ‘I could do with a drink.’

‘So, uh, where were you thinking?’ Chris asked, clearly a little taken aback that I’d been the one to accept Ben’s offer.

‘My buddies got this bar over on Vine Street, Roamers.’ He reached into his pocket and conferred with Chris whether he still had the correct number for him. ‘I’ll drop you guys the address and catch you later then. 9ish?’ His eyes flung from Chris’ then over to mine and back.

‘Great.’ I smiled wide at them both.

Let’s the games begin.

-

We had parted ways at the studio to allow time to get changed into appropriate attire and have some dinner with the promise of meeting at the bar at around nine-ish. I had never been before nor did I know where the place was, so when both Chris and Ben offered me a ride with them, I happily accepted the Affleck option whilst throwing a smug smile Chris’ way.

I rifled through the rack wardrobe that was built into my rented apartment’s wall and sighed in confusion. What even was that earlier? Last night had been so… incredible in my eyes. The way we just threw all inhibitions out of the window just to be close to one another again. The fact that I, ME OF ALL PEOPLE, was willing to be so intimate with a guy was shocking. I mean, we hadn’t gone beyond kissing and a bit of heavy petting, but that was a big deal in my books!

And now it was back to the friendship circle!?

Fuck. That.

I had pushed passed it a couple of times, but the leather Givenchy skirt I had received as PR mail about a week ago was practically screaming at me to be worn. Partnered with a loose black vest that I could tuck in at the front and a pair of my trusty Loubs’, I was happy that it wasn’t too flashy but at the same time, I silently hoped it was just enough to tease a “friendship” into action.

With a good few hours to spare before Ben and his driver were due to collect me, I felt like I needed some reassurance from an outside perspective. I realized I hadn’t spoken to Amanda in what felt like forever and so, as I took my outfit over to the bed to inspect it, I decided to give her a buzz.

‘HEY BABY! I HAVE YOU ON LOADSPEAKER A SEC, I’M JUST WAXING MY LEGS.’

It made me snicker how those words didn’t even seem that absurd coming from Amanda.

‘Big plans tonight?’

‘It’s my boss Richard’s birthday and he’s invited all of the staff to this fancy soiree over at The Ivy.’

‘Is that the place my parents went for their anniversary last year?’ I asked as I wandered towards the kitchen and opened the fridge. Grabbing two water bottles then shutting the door with my hip and wandering over to the coach, I placed one in my gym bag for the workout I was about to do and unscrewed the other.

‘Yep.’ She replied before she let out a few curse words in response to what I imagine was the rip off of a wax strip.

‘Mandy, if I ask you a question, do you promise not to judge me?’ I inquired hesitantly.

‘Adrian, who do you think I am?’ Her voice grew closer until I could tell I was no longer on loudspeaker. ‘Let me just pour myself another pre-drink and you can fire away.’

‘You’re pre-drinking.. by yourself? At 4:00 in the afternoon?’

‘Uhhh, have you seen the prices of drinks at this place!? No thank you! Besides, I might be on a budget but I need my buzz to be able to socialize with these people in my free time!’

‘Fair point, no judgment.’ I surrendered.

‘Speaking of no judgement,’ I could hear her take a sip, ‘hit me up with ya problem. I ain’t got all night.’ She goaded lightly.

I felt embarrassed to be asking this but I knew I needed to get it out. I took a deep breath and centered myself.

‘Mandy, do you think a person can be… bad… at sex?’

It didn’t take her long to answer.

‘Meh, depends. If we’re talking about a guy here, then yes. If we’re talking about a woman, then, eh, not really, unless you lay there like a dead fish. If we’re talking about you here, then what would even make you think that?’

‘I don’t know. I guess,’ I switched the phone to the other ear and slid myself down onto the carpet and crossed my legs, ‘the whole Alex thing really messed up my confidence in that department, you know?’

‘Oh fuck that Adrian. I’ll die before I let your confidence be dampened by that blob and his side salad. You know, I once stalked interviews with her and she has the personality of a chalk board...’

‘And he’d rather have had sex with her!’ I argued back, taking a swig of my water in minor depression, silently wishing it was as strong as Amanda’s drink.

‘Whatever! Didn’t you tell me you once fell asleep during sex?’ She recalled, much to my total embarrassment. I had confessed it to her the week after I caught him cheating. Sex with Alex wasn’t exactly a highlight for me and my own pleasure wasn’t exactly a highlight for him. I could count on one hand how many times I’d actually finished during the seven years we were together. I had always assumed that sex was just more pleasurable for men in general… Besides, I had been so blindly in love with him for so long, it felt like it didn’t even matter.

‘I’m not gonna lie to you Adrian, I fully believe that affair was a gift from God.’ I rolled my eyes and despite it being a noiseless action, it was like she had heard me. ‘Hear me out! Alex was an asshole disguised as a bleached haven. The very nerve of him to find that pig-nosed sex doll more appealing than you shows exactly how much his mercury levels were off by.’

Oh yeah, Mandy had definitely had a pre or two.

This very conversation had been on replay over the past year with not only Amanda, but everyone from Amy to my Mom to my sisters - all trying their best to convince me that I was better than her. Yet, she was the one he wanted to be with.

I had never been with anyone other than Alex, I wasn’t even sure I was capable of being intimate with anyone else. Until I met Chris, I guess…

‘Why do you ask, anyways?’ Amanda asked after I failed to reply.

‘I want no squealing, no excitement, no anything! Just some listening ears and then maybe a round of advice, okay?’ I warned.

‘No promises, but okay….’

‘I saw Chris last night..’ A hint of an ‘oooo’ could be heard from her side, but I chose to ignore it as I clarified. ‘It was just dinner, it wasn’t meant to be a thing or anything! And then yadayada, something about his dog, we’re suddenly back at his, right? So long story short, he got wet in the rain, I laughed, he got revenge by pushing me into his shower, we kissed, we went to his room, we kissed some more, I got my bra out, we fooled around, he stops us because “he’s too cold” and then he drops me back at mine. All is well. So then cut to today and HE JUST WANTS TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN!?’

I couldn’t hide my frustration at all. ‘Like, am I really that bad at this kind of thing!?’

‘Adrian that’s foolish talk.’

‘WELL, he’s had some pretty hot women in his time! What if it was a test drive and I wasn’t appealing to him or something…’

‘Orrr maybe he doesn’t really wanna be just friends right now but he’s holding back so you won’t freak out again?’

‘Or maybe I’m just a dead fish.’ I whined. ‘I mean, only I could friend zone myself by actually trying to be sexy.’

‘But you ARE sexy, you just also happen to be unbelievably harsh on yourself. WHAT HAPPENED WITH ALEX WASN’T YOUR FAULT! HOW MANY TIMES MUST WE TELL YOU!’

I picked away at the fluff on the carpet sadly.

‘I’ll be honest, because when am I not… you’re clearly still sensitive about all this drama that’s happened in your life and truthfully, you’re not amazing at hiding it. So maybe he just doesn’t wanna rush you…’

I sighed as she spoke, willing with all my might for her to be right. 

‘And maybe his dick really was cold.’

-

Roamers was… unique, to say the least. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Through the darkness I could see it was small, overloaded with people and completely doused in the cigarette smoke from out back to the point where breathing was irrelevant. I followed Ben through the crowds of people and saw he was making his way to a spot at the back. I felt a little out of my depth and almost immediately regretted my outfit choice. Judging by the looks I was getting, the combination didn’t exactly look terrible on me and that’s what made me afraid.

It wasn’t long before Ben was stopped by a face that was familiar to him and a conversation was quickly struck up about last Sunday’s football game.

My knees began to bob as I stood beside him like a larry, my eyes aimlessly trawling around to see if I could spot Chris in the crowd. Ben had slyly made his inquires in the car on the way over here if Chris and I were dating (or anything along those lines) and, much to my own discomfort, I told him exactly what we were at this point. Just friends.

As annoyed as I was with the situation, right now I’d give anything to lock eyes with Friendy McFriend-Friend. Instead, I made the mistake of locking eyes with a long haired random who looked a little over-friendly, to be frank. I quickly removed my eyes and brought my attention down to my phone, hoping he wouldn’t come over and try and talk to me or anything.

By means of distraction, and just because I thought it was funny, I set about changing Chris’ name in my phone to just that. Friendy McFriend-Friend.

‘Hey good-lookin.’ My eyes shot up and I inwardly groaned as they were met with the long haired random. Oh God.

‘Want a little pick me up?’ It was then I noticed the blood shot eyes and the bold smile that I knew that meant it was time to go.

‘I’m good, thank you though!’ I replied politely and began to move off in the opposite direction in a rush. I could always just find Ben later.

‘You know where to find me if you change your mind princess!’ He called after me and I could fully feel my dinner wanting to make a reappearance.

The further I made my way into the venue, the more I realized that it wasn’t so much a druggy place as much as it just had a dodgy vibe to it. I really didn’t feel comfortable being alone anymore and I began to contemplate my minuscule knowledge of LA. Was this part of town dodgy?

Eventually, I reached greener pastures. And by greener pastures, I mean the garden area where people looked a lot less hazy and a bit more alive. I began to recognize familiar faces from the crew as I passed and I could feel myself starting to calm down. Clearly we weren’t the only ones Ben had extended the invitation to.

As I stood with a couple of the sound guys, delighted with the company, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. Where was Chris?

A: Are you still coming?

Friendy McFriend-Friend: Yeah, I won’t be long. Scott is tagging along. Just waiting for him to finish getting ready then we’ll be out the door.

-

An hour later there was still no sign of Chris, but there had been a few sightings of a couple of Bellini’s . I wasn’t drunk by any means, but my shoulders had finally started to relax at the very least.

Eventually, a surprisingly tipsy Ben bombed over to me and put his arm around my shoulder before bending down sloppily and talking loudly into my ear so he could be heard over the music. ‘I’ll be honest, and I know, don’t hate me, but I got a buddy who I know you’d get along great with...’

Of course.

‘What? Ben, no, no. I appreciate the gesture.. really I do! But I’m just not looking to date anyone right now.’ Obviously a lie but hey-ho, desperate times call for desperate measures.

‘Hey, I can respect that.’ He pulled his hand off of my shoulder to rest it on his heart, as if he were swearing an oath of understanding before leaning back down. ‘Bu’ listen, just do me a favor on this one. You don’t have to go bowling with the guy, or make daisy chains or any bullshit like that. Just talk to him for me, would’ya? I’d really appreciate it A.’

I cocked my brow. A? That was a new one.

He took my hand and stopped us in the middle of a crowd of people and used the hand he was carrying his beer in to point out who he was talking about.

Over on the other side, all alone, glued to his phone, stood a seemingly tall (he was slouched against the garden wall so it was hard to tell), dark haired, olive skinned… good looking guy – with a face as miserable as sin.

‘His names Michael, he does my taxes…’

It was then I looked up at him as though he’d lost the plot. Why would he think I’d want to pick daisy chains with his accountant? My parents had always warned me about being with people that either worked with food or money, they weren’t to be trusted apparently.

‘He’s a nice guy, I promise you. It’ll be real quick, c’mon.’ He signaled for me to follow him as he made his way over. I sighed heavily before swallowing my pride, deeming it not wise to disobey my current boss. I reluctantly followed behind, quickly stealing a shot of tequila off of a passing bartender with a few scattered on a tray. I’d managed to down it and shake off the aftermath by the time Ben had begun the introductions.

‘Get off the phone Mikey, whassa’ matter with you? It’s a party!’ He slapped him on the back in comradery and the money man humoured him with a forced smile as he tried to act like Ben’s pat wasn’t going to leave a bruise.

‘So this is my friend from the movie I was telling you about.’ He announced, with a tone as though he was spelling it out for him that I was a single female that he should interact with – much to my annoyance. I’m right here Ben… literally right here pal! I smiled nonetheless, not wanting to be rude and held my hand out to him.

‘Hi, Adrian, nice to meet you.’ I smiled.

‘Michael.’ He replied, a smile forming on his own face although it was obvious he felt as awkward as I did.

‘I’m gonna go and see if I can hunt down a buddy of mine. I’ll see you kids in a while, alright?’ Ben walked away beaming, as though he’d just done us both the biggest Cavour. I closed my eyes for a brief second, lamenting on how this wasn’t what I had envisioned for my big night out.

Although, they didn’t stay shut for long…

‘I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m gay.’ My head jerked towards Michael. He held a complete blase tone as he watched Ben disappear into the crowd.

I smiled wide and a shocked little laugh escaped. ‘Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that outcome.’

‘Sorry baby, but if it’s romance you want, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’ He admitted. He stood away from the wall and dug his hands into his jacket pocket, looking for something before pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

‘Honestly, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear you say that. Romance is pretty much the last thing I’m looking for right now.’ I joined him in leaning against the wall as I bit my lip in concern at how easily these lies were spilling out of my mouth.

‘I fucking hate Ben’s “get together’s”. They’re so, manish. It’s like a fraternity up in here. The man’s in his forties for Christ’s sake!’ He remarked as he lit up a cigarette, but not before offering me one. I shook my head no and he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Truth be told, it’s the manish types I like – so I come. There’s no gain without the pain.’

I nodded, aware now that my life had sunk so low as to be the kind of girl you introduce to your closeted gay friend.

‘So what’s your sob story? Why is Ben trying to hook you up with his accountant when you could probably have your pick of any James Dean type?’ He blew smoke out and sized me up, trying to seek out any visible flaws.

‘I was lured here under the false impression of Ben not having many friends to hang out with in LA.’ I explained. ‘And I wanted to see the night life out here, I suppose, and maybe make some new friends. I live in New York.’

‘What do you need to make friends for? I’ve seen your movies, you gotta have people crawling out of the woodwork.’

‘Not the case.’ It was almost laughable how many acquaintances I had and yet zero friendships to show for it. ‘It’s actually kind of the opposite.’

‘You work in the movie business but you don’t know anyone in LA?’

I squinted my eyes, thinking about how to word myself. ‘Well… I know a couple of people, but not ones I’d feel comfortable reaching out to. I mean, there is one guy I guess. Actually, he should be here soon.’ I turned around and stepped up onto my tiptoes to scout if Chris was here yet or not. Jeez, how long did Scott need!?

He nodded knowingly. ‘Is he a squeeze?’

‘He’s a… friend, I guess.’

‘A friend-friend, or a “frriieeennddd”?’ He inquired with a smirk before taking a long drag of his smoke.

‘Kinda… sorta, somewhere in between.’ I replied uncomfortably, turning back around and scouring the room in hopes of now spotting the woman with drinks tray, ‘we were long distance, but it wasn’t anything... too serious. I guess.. I’m not sure.’

‘I don’t have anywhere to be.’ He leaned back against the wall again as though to signal he wanted to hear the details.

And for whatever reason, I decided to tell him.

-

As the night wore on, and the drinks Michael and I began to consume doubled, I realized two things. One: that I truly had to thank Ben, because I really was gaining a friend in Michael. And two: That very same Ben was a con artist disguised as an actor.

Michael and I had laughed and laughed as we watched the apparently troubled guy bloom into the social butterfly that he really is and hit on about four girl’s half his age with much success.

It was mid laugh that I felt the shivers. Cascading up and down my spine as though the nerve itself knew exactly when it was being watched.

The wires connected for Michael and he raised his eyebrows as he watched me shut my eyes. ‘Which one is he?’

‘Hmm?’ I replied, unwilling to open them.

‘Which one? Is he inside?’ I took a deep breath and slowly turned around.

It was like heat seeking missile, it took all of two seconds for my eyes to find him. Even in my annoyed state, he still caused my breathing to hitch and my heart to beat a little faster.

‘He’s the one wearing the grey t-shirt with the dark blue leather jacket over it.’ I told him whilst alarmingly finding it difficult to take my eyes off of him. From my spot, I could see him at the bar with Josh and a few others, standing there looking a little lost as the others were laughing and talking away. How long had they been here!? I bent down to see if i’d missed any messages and felt a little hurt when saw that there were none.

Eventually, the moment dawned on sweet Michael.

‘Chris Evans!? That’s your “friend”?’ He asked in surprise. ‘Oh baby, I’d be upset too if I were you!’

I finally pulled my eyes away to look at him unimpressed as he gazed over at Chris adoringly.

‘Should I go over there?’ I asked Michael.

He was mid sip but immediately pulled his glass away. ‘Mmm-mm honey, no.’ He wiped his mouth. ‘You make him come to you.’

My heart sagged and the lump in my throat grew as I watched him. I pathetically began to crave Chris’ attention as though he were a soothing cream to some sort of itch.

‘You wanna play a game?’

I looked at Michael funny. ‘What kind of game?’

‘Well… maybe all you need to kick this “friendship” rut in the ass is a little jealousy. Tell me, if he saw you with another guy, would it cause a reaction?’ Part of me didn’t know if it would or not. ‘Because you have a somewhat closeted gay man right here for hire if you’d like.’

I smiled at him, genuinely touched. ‘You’re sweet, but I really don’t wanna ruin things or make an idiot of myself.’

‘Say no more. Marie!’ He called to a barmaid who was carrying an empty tray. ‘Two Manhattans!’ She nodded and quickly moved off. He then grabbed two chairs from behind him and signaled for me to sit down.

‘Come. Sit closer. Tell me all about your fabulous New York City life and the fabulous men it’s home to!’

Within seconds, he scooted his chair closer to mine, left his hand on my shoulder and launched his head back in laughter as though i’d just told a real thigh slapper.

The gesture took both myself and the others around us by surprise, but I could tell exactly what he was trying to do. He quickly leant his head in to my ear to whisper friendly nothings, although the gesture seemed intimate in most cases.

‘Listen to this. One time, I was at a very conservative parent’s house - you know, the kind who don’t know their son is gay? So when his dad asked me what I do for a living, apparently “your son” wasn’t the ideal answer.’ Came his dead pan whisper.

My eyes widened and I couldn’t stop the uncontrollable laughter that erupted from me. That was the most absurd story I’d ever heard in my life. ‘Oh. My. God.’ I managed through each laugh.

A few more stories from Michael and by the end of it, I physically couldn’t stop myself from falling back into my chair. His hand had moved from my shoulder to my knee and for the first time in a while, I felt so carefree. I hadn’t laughed like that in years. I had almost entirely forgotten what the purpose of all of it was until finally Michael leant back and said:

‘Mission accomplished.’

Still chuckling, I looked at him confused - saddened that he had stopped making me laugh. ‘Mission, what?’

‘Adrian?’

It was Scott. And a very hard to read Chris in tow. And then a few others that I didn’t recognize.

‘Hey, there you are!’ I smiled as I stood up to hug him in greeting. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘I know, I know, but moment of silence for the Chanel shirt I completely ruined by spilling cologne all down the front.’

‘NO.’ I scoffed in horror.

‘YES.’ He scoffed back.

As nice as it was to see Scott again, my eyes automatically diverted to his older brother, standing behind him, drink in hand, looking more than a little unimpressed.

Even still. So handsome. So, so handsome.

‘Would you guys like to join us?’ Michael’s voiced had changed. It was deeper and manlier, like how he had spoken to Ben earlier. I looked over and was met with a smile that screamed “trust me” by him. I bit my lip in anticipation for where this “game” could go.

I didn’t want to be petty. I had no right to be petty. I just wanted him to want me, you know?

Chris still hadn’t said a word but I could feel his gaze on me as I introduced the group to Michael. We all sat down and I watched as his jaw tightened with every word that spilled out of Michael’s charismatic mouth. He wasn’t even subtle in the way he sized him up, inwardly attempting to deduce whether or not this guy was a threat.

-

My eyes shone as I watched Michael and Scott discuss politics… or something. Most of Chris’ entourage had dispersed and just the four of us were now left. I knew the jig was up the second the two handsome gents in front of us started trading barbs on each other’s gym techniques and all the while, unbeknownst to them, flirting outrageously with one another.

Leaning over, his own eyes fixated on his brother and the handsome stranger, Chris whispered. ‘He’s gay, isn’t he?’

Taking a sip of my drink, I nodded slyly in victory. Chris blew out a breath of air and started to laugh as he reached his hand up and rubbed his eyes.

‘Why, was there a problem Evans?’ I asked smugly, letting my head rest on my fist and my eyelashes flutter away.

He pulled his hand away and simply started shaking his head at me with that goofy smile on his face. 

I licked my lips before sipping my drink again. Triumph flowing through my veins as he reached over and squeezed my knee affectionately.

-

We gave Michael and Scott another ten minutes or so before we decided to just leave them to it.

As we walked towards the awaiting car service in the parking lot out back, I could feel the fuzziness return as Chris draped his jacket over me and swung an arm around my shoulder. At least this was progress from the last time he’d offered me his jacket…

Despite loving it, the alcohol in my system decided to speak my mind for me.

‘You confuse me.’

He looked down at me and observed me curiously. ‘Likewise... you really had me thinking Fabio back there was in with a chance!’

‘I think you’re more confusing than me!’ I declared, pulling away slightly to look up at him.

‘Ahh, come on Adrian, cut me some slack here!’ He stated with a slightly dry laugh. ‘I’m the one trying to find the right balance between “respecting” your space and at the same time desperately wanting to invade it.’

-

As we entered his house, the air between us was thick. I knew it and I knew that he knew it. The car ride over here had been relatively silent for fear we’d say the wrong thing that would ruin the moment. Instead my mind swirled his words around in a whirlpool.

Desperately wanting to invade it.

Desperately. He was desperate.

Flicking the light switch on next to his front door and shutting it, he immediately inquired if I wanted a drink.

‘Please.’ I responded as I slowly followed him to the kitchen, my nerves growing with each step.

I entered his kitchen for the first time since the day after his moving in party and instantly my eyes were drawn to the counter that he’d pressed me up against during our first kiss.

I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a fire in my belly that screamed to be put out. A fire I knew by this point could only be put out by him. A fire I’d never felt before. Not even with Alex.

Leaning against the island, I watched him closely as I discarded his jacket onto the counter top. He bent down into his fridge and his eyes glinted mischievously before reaching in and pulling out a familiar bottle.

‘I mean, now seems as good a time as any, right?’ Chris questioned as he held the bottle of champagne I’d gotten him as his move-in present in one hand whilst the other filtered through a cupboard for glasses

He set two crystal glasses down onto the counter. With ease he popped the cork on the champagne, letting out a subtle ‘ahh’ as he did. The way his muscles and veins popped along with it was a divine sight to behold.

He poured a generous amount into each glass before handing me one and picking up his own and carrying both it and the bottle towards his cozy seating area.

It occurred to me then that something appeared to be missing and as we both settled onto the couch, I inquired into the obvious.

‘Where’s Dodger?’

‘He’s on a sleepover.’ He replied after taking a generous sip.

We talked casually for a while, mostly laughing about how Scott had stolen “my man”, with our knees touching and the air growing thicker by the second.

By the time we were onto our second glass of bubbly, the air was ready to choke us.

Whilst taking another sip, I could feel Chris’ eyes burning into me.

‘God, you’re sexy.’

I almost spluttered the liquid in my mouth as I moved the glass away.

‘SO sexy.’ I ridiculed the very notion, the alcohol enforcing a bit of confidence. ‘All sweaty and scruffy after a long night of basking in the company of cigarette smokers..’

‘It annoys me when you do that.’ He commented lowly, his eyes still not diverting.

He sat forward and used the remote control that was on the coffee table to turn the fire place on. It wasn’t even a subtle excuse as he drew closer me in the process.

His eyes met mine and he studied them for a while before once again taking the reins.

‘Are you saying you don’t think you’re sexy?’

I shyly shook my head without even thinking and he began to tut in response.

Our eyes grew darker under each other’s gaze and as he slowly leaned in, I found myself drawing back slightly. My voice barely above a whisper.

‘If I let you kiss me, do you promise you’ll stop with this whole “just friends” thing?’

He paused to think about it before whispering, ‘Do you promise you’ll learn to trust me?’

Our pupils began bouncing off of one other as a silent agreement was made. He leaned in slowly as both our eyes put up a fight until the very last second; ending in a kiss that spoke volumes as it sounded off into the silence.

Before I knew it, my back hit his couch cushions with a light ‘puff’ and I could hear myself swallow. Chris leaned down next to me and began to lightly drag his fingertips along any piece of skin I had on display, leaving goosebumps in his tracks.

After a lengthy sweep, his hands began to caress my inner thighs. ‘Can I… show you... how sexy I find you?’

I quickly noticed his body attempt to shift downwards and the words blurted out before I could even think them through.

‘I’m really not much of an… “oral” kinda girl.’

My hands flew to my mouth and covered them in shock. Had I really just said that!?

He paused and his head drew close to the exposed skin of my upper chest. I felt my body shiver as he placed a delicate kiss in between my cleavage. His fingers lightly squeezed the skin on my inner thigh.

‘That’s okay, I can think of other ways…’ he hummed before leaning down and placing more kisses.

For around five seconds, I was sure I was legally dead. Deceased. Gone. Finished.

‘Okay.’ I caved quietly.

I couldn’t believe how liberal I was being. As I recall, just yesterday I was moaning to Amanda about my fear of being intimate again and now, as the clock approached 2:00am, I was a loosey goosey after only a few glasses of alcohol.

He stopped kissing me long enough to look up and deep into my eyes. ‘Yeah?’

This time I simply nodded, words now escaping me.

Reaching up and kissing me firmly, he smiled into the kiss and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back.

I had just about melted into his lips when I felt him make contact with the fabric of my underwear. I jolted into the kiss and almost instantly, my hands were on the defense.

Unwilling to let me stop this progress, his lips continued to dominate mine as a distraction whilst his hand pushed my own away.

He once again reached down and touched the fabric, only this time with pressure as he introduced a slow rubbing movement. Up and down. Back and forth.

My banished hand moved from my thigh to the back of his head as our kiss deepened in sync with his movements.

When he finally drew the fabric to one side and made contact with my sensitive heat I pulled away from the kiss, laying my head down onto the cushion and shutting my eyes as the reality of what was happening set in.

Undeterred, his lips set to work on my neck as his hand went about familiarizing itself with my most intimate area.

My mind was racing at a million miles per hour, arguing with itself about the possibility of stopping it and just plain letting it continue. My hand traveled down his hard chest and I couldn’t stop myself as I reached under his shirt and began to feel how much of a muscle man he really was. Because he was. In every way. Such a man.

‘Chris.’ I murmured. He didn’t reply.

Instead, he smacked his lips back down onto mine as he continued his rhythm.

My back began to arch and my knees began to buckle, every single muscle began to shake as it basked in the pleasure of the moment he was creating.

‘I-’

My eyes peeled open for a split second before shutting again as pure ecstasy took over.

‘You.’ Chris whispered between heavy breaths. ‘Are. So...’ He trailed off as he himself basked in the newfound intimacy he was producing between us.

My hands reached overhead, gripping the side of his sofa for dear life.

Moments blended into one another as my mind struggled to wrap itself around the logistics of it all. I no longer had a sense of time.

My mind clouded with visions of heaven as my body shuddered, becoming completely engulfed in warmth, like a rapid avalanche cascading over each and every inch of me.

‘Ooowwwhhhh!’ I managed, barely.

I panted for a few moments, basking in the euphoria that had just taken place. Chris continued to trail sweet kisses along my jaw and eventually, when our eyes met, they swore an oath to one another.

‘Fuck being friends?’ He whispered it aloud with a knowingly smug smile.

‘FUCK. BEING. FRIENDS.’ I shouted with glee, pulling his lips down onto my own as a firm confirmation.

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

A/N: If you made it to the end of this long one then thank you, I LOVE YOU!! 

Things are starting to get serious between our two reluctant lovebirds....

[cnox]

Rowen for Distant Mirror Zine #1.* ROWEN is a project between Cristahel and Cantrith Knox. They play a subgenre of the dark ambient / dungeon synth movement they call Mythical Electronic. They have years of experience and also operate Hollow Myths in New England. I thank them for their contribution to the first issue of Distant Mirror. First, Rowen is a collaborative effort between Canrith and Cristahel Knox - do you have specialties which you like to focus on when creating (someone runs the drums and arrangement, someone finds the melodies)?

Eve, Thanx for the interview. We both play synths, drum machines and write together.  As of now, when playing live, Criss handles the synths, vocal whisperings and I play the electronic drums. Along with our visuals, fog and lighting. We are introducing more vocals on some new songs. In the studio, we also add our field recordings and percussion as part of composing. We sit and mix each song side by side.    

Tell us about your musical histories before forming Rowen, because its somewhat obvious you both have experience which maybe led to the result of what Rowen is on "Ashen Spirit"!

Both of us have electronic music in our past. Cristahel with Minimal Synth and I with Darkbeat. One of the first ideas we had for Rowen was to start all over. As part of the experiment, finding ourselves and each other through making music anew. See and hear our music become it's own entity. We started developing the concept in '14, in '16 we began recording and had our first release in '18. We set out with a clear vision of what we want to do with Rowen.

Also tell us how you discovered music and what your first true love in music was... How did you come to find music that would lead you to this underworld of music culture?

Canrith: I discovered music on a radio at age 3. First, second and third grade, I would stay up nights crashing on Ritalin (due to being diagnosed as Hyperactive) watching the first ever music videos on a UHF channel in Colorado called FMTV which predated MTV by a year or two. Laurie Anderson - O Superman, Kraftwerk, Barnes & Barnes - Fish Heads videos all had a great impact on me as a kid. During that time, late 70's - early 80's, I was hooked on the music and image of both Kiss and Devo. One of the first albums I owned was AC/DC - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap on cassette that I purchased at K-Mart. Summer '81 NYC, I saw the first video air on MTV. Later, watching another UHF channel out of Boston called V66. Heavy Metal led me to the Black Metal and the dark electronic music underground. Dark Ambient and Dark Dungeon Music have always been a particular interest of mine. Mail order distro tapes and free box extras in orders started my collection as far back as the mid 90's. In the late 90's, I got really into BM, then obsessed in '03 onward, as many UGBM labels and distros were rising on the web. We are also into Minimal, Martial, Electro, Techno, New Beat, Cosmic, Italo, 8-bit, Video Game, Soundtrack, Old School Dungeon Synth, Winter Synth and so on...

Cristahel: My first exposure to music as a child was through my grandfather, who began teaching me to play classical piano by ear at the age of four. We would sit for countless hours at his black upright Steinway as he would play Chopin, Bach, Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky etc. a few measures at a time for me to memorize and string together until I had the whole piece memorized. His love and enthusiasm for music, and the time he took to develop that in me, is something I will always be grateful for. Also my cousin Sue was a few years older than me and was like some kind of magical mixtape faerie, forever bestowing masterfully crafted gems upon me filled with things like Lush, Kate Bush, Cocteau Twins, and Mazzy Star that served to mold/blow my little mind.  

By my late teens it was the late 90's/early 2000's and I was immersed in a maelstrom of kraut/prog, electro, early new wave and electronic/industrial, shoe gaze. I was fortunate at the time to have a lot of friends with varied tastes and massive record collections they wanted to share with me, because back then there was like, only Napster to try and download music off this nebulous internet thing they had just invented.  

I spent a lot of time not doing my homework and dancing around my room on speed and/or klonopins listening to things like Tangerine Dream, Cluster, Miss Kittin & The Hacker, Dopplereffekt, Chris and Cosey, SPK, early Human League, Slowdive, Clan of Xymox... all of which in their own ways began to inform the atmosphere of the music I create now, warped and haunted meandering electronic melodies, analog synths, string machines and rhythm boxes, pounding 303s and 808s, tape echoes, analog delays, layered sounds lost in chasms of reverb...

I moved to NY and started making music, playing shows and djing a bit (mostly playing gabber techno synth new age sets at London squat parties to kids who wanted to hear nu rave), getting into minimal synth, and beginning my love affair with collecting and recording with analog equipment.

Of course now anything you want is available immediately online, compared to how the 80’s and 90’s crowd discovered music. I’ve asked the other artists a similar question - how do you feel about the loss of mystery these days and what will happen in the future to return to that?

I feel the ability for creating mystique is greater now thanx to the internet. Almost anyone can record some music, upload it to bandcamp, make artwork, physical releases, open an online shop, start a label, etc..   If one is good at what they do, be it a hidden persona or being a face, presenting a strong sound, image and aesthetic, either way, when done right, it works. In some ways even mystery can be a gimmick.

You both are lucky to have grown up in the best time period for music. But what about movies and books people should check out?  

I collect children's books, read a mess of olde and new Black Metal zines, Books about Black and Death Metal. Sexy comics about Vampiress and Faeries. Presently reading The Devil's Cradle, a hard back about The Story of Finnish Black Metal. It was a gift from Criss. Everyone should read Lords of Chaos '98 (then '03) and Lucifer Rising '99. I still need a copy of that leather bound Mortiis - Secrets Of My Kingdom book '01.

As for films, we watch obscure horror, foreign horror and documentaries.  

Here are some if you have not already read or watched them; 

Read: Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs ('78) James and the Giant Peach ('61) Masquerade ('79) The World of the Dark Crystal ('82) The Book of Alien ('79) Moebius - The Collected Fantasies of Jean Giraud Series ('87 - '94) Flowers in the Attic - Dollanganger Series ('79 -'86) Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo ('78) William Klein: Films, 1958-99 ('99) Wreckers of Civilisation: The Story of Coum Transmissions & Throbbing Gristle ('99)

Watch: Christiane F. ('81) Out of The Blue ('80) Deadbeat at Dawn ('88) Combat Shock ('86) Street Trash ('87) Brain Damage ('88) Zardoz ('74) Excalibur ('81) Emerald Forest ('85) Wicker Man ('73)

If atmosphere seems to be a heavy orientation for your creative drive, is your local landscape an important part of this? or is it personal experiences driving the music towards such a dark and melancholy place? something about Rowen is both light and dark.

We live on a island North East New England and seldom see others. Most of our time is spent outside, alone with the wind, the trees, on the marsh, in the mist and rain, sea side mornings, hawks at dusk and in the woods every evening. Pretty, evil and sad is what we do. We are hoping folks will also consider us in the Nature Synth category.  

New England must be a very interesting place to live... what is your favorite time of year there, and what is your favorite part of the landscape there?

We love the woods, day hikes, mountain tops, swimming holes, water falls, gorges and quarries. Small towns, old houses, fields, orchards, pumpkin patches, bonfires. Train tracks, trestles, towers, castles, monuments and graveyards. I was born in October so naturally I love the fall. Hallow's Eve and all into November.  Leaves turn, death comes and things change. There is nothing like a cold moonlit night in the snow. I appreciate being where we can really experience all four seasons.

Also You are so fortunate to live on an island.. That’s amazing. It’s cliche to talk about misanthropy with dark music but is this the reason for being secluded? What do you feel is the best thing for people could do with themselves in (what is in my eyes the end of the world?)

We made the decision to come here for a time of research, get to know each other, talk about our dreams, foster our ideas. Focus on only that of which we love and gives us purpose. Live away from it all.  If everyone did what was the most important to them, a different world this might be.  

Rowen is listed among other trees in occult literature as a tree of magical powers... Is this the reason for using the name? Is there personal beliefs at play in Rowen?

As a band we have our own ideologies, as musicians, our own theories, as artists, our own creative processes and as members, a belief system. These are shared between us and are expressed through the music, words and imagery of Rowen.

The Greeks, Norse, Celts and Druids all told mythology of the properties and significance of this mystical tree. The Greek Goddess of youth who lost her magical chalice to the demons. An eagle was sent to retrieve it. From battle, it's blood splatter on the earth grew Rowan trees. It's leaves as feathers, it's berries, the blood. The Norse myth speaks of the tree from which woman was made. And man, from a mountain ash. Saved Thor in the underworld. Runes are burned on Rowan wood. In the British Isles they tell of the folkloric tree which protects against witchcraft. The red berries of fall make up the 5 points of the Pentagram. Goes also as the Goddess or Faerie tree. The Druids used the bark and berries to dye the garments worn during lunar ceremonies black. Rowan twigs were used for divining, particularly for metals.

I had no idea the importance of Rowen to ancient people. Yes, it is true that Norse belief teaches humans were originally trees before given life and awareness by Odin, Vili and Ve. Is there any interest for you both to express your philosophy on things in the music or is this an affair of escapism and pure magic.

"The Past is not Dead, it lives on in a Woeful Drift." We are connected to our roots, our family trees, where we came from, our heritage and lands. We could only hope that our music would offer an escape. Magic is the only way.

If you could live in any time period, what time period would you live in and what would you be doing?

Canrith: I feel lucky to have been a child of the 70's and we grew up in the 80's, 90's & 00's. We were there, I wouldn't change it. I would love to live in some medieval castle in the mountains, riding a black Clydesdale, wielding a mace, reeking havoc across the land.  

Cristahel: Same as Canrith but on a white Clydesdale with a halberd.

What's the most important part of the creative process for Rowen - is there a certain revelry for using old mysterious pieces of synthesizers or do you enjoy the vast possibilities of computers? There's always the game of analog vs computer in the electronic scenes, what is your thoughts on this?

For us, again, the most important part of the process is the experiment. We use all analog synthesizers, drum machines and record live. Roland, Korg, Yamaha. Same goes for our stage show. We have used and are not opposed to using digital synths on recordings and live. Casio & Yamaha synths, Simmons drums. For instance, "In Another Dream, You Were Mine" from "Ashen Spirit" was made almost entirely on a Casiotone. We record and mix on a desk top home computer.  

What are you both really enjoying listening to at the moment?

Listening to cult 80's video Game music on YouTube while answering these questions.

do you have any thoughts on where this rising momentum will lead as far as the dungeon synth genre is headed, and do you feel proud of your place in that? am i wrong in assuming you both also run Hollow Myths?  

We are proud of our place in DS. Though we set out to make our own mythical electronic music. And think the genre is progressing as it should. We have been very active in the scene going on six years now this November. As supporters, label, distro and band. We are most appreciative of the support we have received. And from the Black Metal Underground. Our first demo was released on pro-tape by Personnel Records, a sub-label of Seedstock Records ran by Marco Del Rio of Raspberry Bulbs aka He Who Crushes Teeth of Bone Awl. We are finishing our second release that will be out on CD & Cassette this time.  

Hollow Myths, the label and distro, is the work of us two. Releases, artwork, layouts, Photography, bios, press, promo, videos, zine, jewelry, leather work, patches, we also offer clothes that we call Cryptic Raiment for After Dark. Official Dungeon Synth, Dark Ambient, Black Metal, Hollow Myths* Shirts, Long Sleeves, Hoods, Record Bags, Altar Cloths...

Correct me if I’m wrong, but Hollow Myths has had to dig deep into the underground and re-release old gems, which is like reissuing from the archives.. many people don’t really appreciate that, can you tell us about what that’s been like and if anything else like that will ever happen?  

Hollow Myths* have re-released limited special versions of cult classics in a row of how I first discovered them back when. Being also from Dallas, TX, Equitant - The Great Lands Of Minas Ithil (City Of Isildur) '94 was one the first tapes I owned of the genre (and our first release from H/M* on cassette) after I found a copy of the Mournlord - Reconquering Our Kingdom Demo from '95 (SE) for a $1 in a bargain bin. These strange and very limited cassette releases helped crystallize what Dark Dungeon Music was to me. Like hearing the Caduceus - Middle Ages Demo '95 (LT) for the first time or later with the Corvus Neblus - Chapter I & II - Strahd's Possession tapes from '99 / '01 (LV). Our second re-released offering was Equimanthorn - Entrance To The Ancient Flame on cassette, another Texas born Ritual Black Ambient project with both Equitant and Proscriptor of the Mythological Occult Metal band Absu as members. After which, we made a chain of very special limited re-releases from; Gothmog, Depressive Silence, Solanum, Lunar Womb, Cain, two from Aperion, Arthur as well as Xerión with more to come. At the same time, we have introduced many new Dungeon Synth artists, some with their follow ups; Isåedor, Wyver and Wizzard to name but a few. We began in '16 and have 43 releases to date. Some mentioned above will see second pressings in the near future.

What has been your favorite release to work on this past year and what sort of artists does Hollow Myths look for?

We focus on outsider music and art and put our blood, sweat and tears into every release. Since we are primarily a physical label and distro (Tapes, CD's, Vinyl, Merch, etc.), it has been interesting to curate and mix the last three Shadowlore Compilations.

Each run over 2 hours long and feature new and exclusive songs by legions of Dungeon Synth artists from around the world. Being Digital, we offer it for Free or name your price for those who want to add it to their collections. Corresponding J-card "tape trade" layout print outs are included in the download, so one can make their own 2x cassette version. To be shared with friends, to inspire tape trading, for more reach and exposure for the artists' projects. Shadowlore Four will be released this Summer Solstice.  

Other releases from last year we are very proud of: Apeiron - Stardust / A Separate Reality. Cosmic / Dark Ambient / Black Metal from Austria. '95 & '97 and featuring a never before heard hidden track from '96 titled "Dimensional Chanting" exclusive only to this release. Xerión - O Espírito Da Fraga / O Trono de Breogán. Black Metal / Dark Ambient from Spain. The first two demos from '01 & '02 with 3 new songs recorded exclusively for this release including a Windir cover.  Galician Mythology and Folklore. Wyver -  Tragedies of Lost Village (Demo II). Dungeon Synth / Fantasy Music follow up. (PDX) Hypogeum - S/T. Introducing outsider, Raw Black Metal from the woods of Oregon. Wizzard - The Cauldron Descent. Cryptic Dungeon Synth follow up from Sweden. Morihaus - The Empty Marches. Eccentric Dark Ambient / Dungeon Synth debut from Kentucky.  

Tell us about Rowen’s plans to start touring.

We just played our first show at the Northeast Dungeon Siege MMXIX festival. Now we are working on piecing together a tour that will begin this summer in the north east coast with the plan to then head down, across the south to California, up the west coast, pacific northwest and back across the north and through the mid-west to return late fall. We recently put the word out that we are up to perform anywhere, anytime and received an overwhelming response. If we can get on tour, stay on tour, get back to Europa without haste, we would be more than pleased.

The first two shows will be outdoor camping events. Mythical Electronic, Dungeon Synth, Black Metal, Acoustic Black Metal, Death Metal, Doom, Crust, Folk, Country, . . . Both are on private land, in the forest and BYOB. Bring a tent, water, food and supplies. Crossbows and throwing knives.

Rowen   Seasons of the Savage at The Sonorous Glade June 22nd Topsham, VT w/ Haxen, Sombre Arcane, Fed Ash, Gorcrow, Melkor, Black Axe, Void Bringer, Acid Roach and Wild Leek River  

Rowen   Woods of Gallows II August 17th  West Chazy, NY w/ T.O.M.B., Worthless, Sombre Arcane, Ordeals, Malacath, Lightcrusher, Hræsvelgr, Graveren and Callous

[thisbookisaboutmonsters]

Sigi, pt 3

introducing.... ROBERT~ he’s a decent guy and all but his choice of occupation is going to provide a few headaches for sigi and i can’t wait. c:

if you enjoy, please leave me feedback! feel free to share as well!

Horrible. It’s the only word Sigi can think of right now. He turns it over in his mind as though he’s never really studied it before: horrible. Horrible. Horrible. It starts to sound less and less like a real word, but the feeling of dread in his stomach is no less powerful.

“Sigi?” Johannes has been watching him for the past minute or so, trying to get his attention. “Sigi…” He turns away from Sigi to face their professor standing just inside the doorway to his home. “He’s just as shocked as I am, sir. We all are. Poor little Jan…”

Sigi’s stomach churns as they’re invited inside, both from horror and— even more upsetting— from hunger. The bloodless body of the small child he’d chewed on two days prior is lying on a table, there for people to mourn and pay their respects. The woman seated on the chair in the corner, sobbing softly by herself, must be the mother.

Sigi steps closer with Johannes. Their professor is speaking, mentioning where they found the body, but Sigi already knows exactly where they found it.

While Johannes offers his condolences to the distraught family Sigi leans around the table to get a glimpse of the mess he left of the child’s neck. It’s very clear what killed him, he realizes, and he feels his stomach clench again with that horrible mix of guilt and overwhelming hunger. He didn’t expect to have to look at this child again.

He’s brought out of his stupor when he hears the professor say it: a hunting dog. They were going to look for the sick animal and kill it before it could attack anyone else.

“By the look of the mess, it could be any one of the lord’s dogs. We haven’t had wolves here for years.”

Sigi steps outside quickly, muttering condolences as he leaves, eager to get out of that house before his guilt stops being mistaken for sympathetic shock. He’s shaking out on the streets when Johannes finds him, leaning against a wall and ignoring the people who look at him.

“That poor boy,” Johannes whispers, “He just left the market and…”

Sigi has to bite his lip to distract himself from the smell of the boy, still very present inside that house. It doesn’t smell at all like decomposition to Sigi; it only reminds him of how good his blood tasted.

“Sigi? Are you still unwell?” Johannes reaches up to hold his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve been pale lately.”

Johannes’s hand feels hot through Sigi’s clothing. Sigi doesn’t feel cold, but he notices how warm Johannes is now. He can't stop noticing it, like how he can taste Johannes’s breath whenever he speaks. “I’m hungry. That’s all.”

Johannes is visibly taken aback. “Hungry? After… that?”

Sigi pushes off the wall and walks away. “I’ll see you later.”

“Where are you going? We’ve food at home!”

Sigi ignores him, walks faster when he hears Johannes trying to follow. He’d always had longer legs, and he loses Johannes as soon as his friend gives up. He can’t let Johannes know where he’s going.

He spends the rest of the day traveling as far out of town as he can get before he’s in pain from hunger. He doesn’t come home until hours past midnight, sated, filthy, wide-awake and distraught. When he slides into bed Johannes sleepily rolls over to hold him, and Sigi curls into his warmth and does not sleep.

*

Robert hadn’t gone into hunting because he liked it. There wasn’t much to enjoy about a job like this, and the only hunting experience he had prior to this very particular game was hunting deer in his childhood. No, this was dangerous (some would even argue unnecessary) compared to hunting in order to put food on the table, or even for sport.

This was hunting to keep people safe.

He hated hunting the old ones, but you couldn’t really put it off when you found another one; the longer you waited, the more people you were endangering. At least the old ones tried to be subtle, and smart, and could wait between victims. The young ones were the most needlessly violent.

Both young and old were terrible when they were cornered. It wasn’t really a matter of which was easier to get rid of.

But oh, he hated hunting the old ones. The best approach, or at least the approach Robert vastly preferred, was an ambush. A sneak attack. Sniper shot.

A stake in the heart would work, if you knew where to aim, but that was tough. You had to get in close, and that was probably the stupidest thing you could do. You also needed a lot of upper body strength and fucking ridiculous reflexes. Robert stayed in shape mostly for being able to get away when he mucked things up, and he knew from experience that a stake through the heart was impractical. Pushing forty, he was no Olympian.

Robert had some compromises, to spare himself some grief, extend his lifespan. After all, food chains were food chains, and everything deserved a shot at existing— he tried to do a background check before finalizing the next target. He’d found a few who lived in rural areas and stuck to farm animals; some even raised their own cattle and left people alone. Others still made a point to work in morgues; fresh blood was apparently not mandatory.

He was wary when Sigi was first brought to his attention. He didn’t really care for pop culture so he was behind the times with most celebrities; it was his thirteen-year-old niece who showed him who Sigi was. After he’d dared commit the crime of confessing he had no idea who that was, and after she’d gasped and demanded how he couldn’t know, she showed him some magazine articles and bragged about the lipstick she owned. Apparently this Sigi was… well. Famous, for some reason. Robert just assumed Sigi was a makeup brand, but Sigi was a person.

The photos weren’t that alarming because, being in a fashion magazine, Robert assumed airbrushing and lighting did all the work. He didn’t think about Sigi until a week later, when he heard that name again in a documentary playing on television while he cooked dinner. Struck by hearing the same name so soon, after never hearing it before, he leaned into the living room to watch. This Sigi was narrating a documentary on the history of modern scientific thought, talking about the standardization of the meter and other things Robert had never really wondered about. Curious, Robert used his phone to look up the documentary, to find the narrator’s name, and then was interested to see it was the same Sigi responsible for his niece’s lipstick collection.

That led to a brief internet spiral while he finished cooking, in which he checked Wikipedia and news stories, and pictures— candid as well as professionally done— and before he knew it he felt like he couldn’t even think of food. He found himself leaning on the countertop beside the stove, deep in his phone, staring intently at every picture of this Sigi person and unable to look away.

This was not something common to vampires, at least not in static photos. It struck Robert however that any Youtube results for Sigi brought absolutely no moving images over five seconds long. Sigi visibly disliked being filmed, although he had no trouble offering his voice to— Robert checked Wikipedia again— documentaries, movies, video games, audio books, or interviews.

He’d write it off as eccentricity if he didn’t feel the need to stare at every picture he could find of Sigi, including those short video clips. Sigi… didn’t seem to look right in videos. Which was odd.

Robert tried to go back to his meal, now getting cold on the stove, but he’d lost his appetite. Sigi had ruined his appetite somehow.

It came to him about an hour later, while he was avoiding his phone and ignoring the television, trying to clean his gear before he sat down to do a little editing for his day job. A feeling of dread had settled over him since he’d looked Sigi up online, and he still couldn’t fully explain why looking at Sigi in pictures was somehow horrifying, but he watched the video clips again and came to the decision that he had another background he should check soon.

This would be the first time he’d had to figure out a celebrity target. It would take longer to get the information he needed to make his final decision. Maybe Sigi was just weird. Maybe he was a weird but perfectly normal human. Or maybe he wasn’t a perfectly normal human but he stuck to a strictly small-vermin-and-cattle diet. Either way, Robert had to be extra careful and extra sure if he was going to even consider hunting someone in the public eye like this.

He sort of hated his job.

He worked around his daytime-job-as-editor schedule to make trips to the city Sigi usually lived in. At least as an editor he could get into publishing shindigs if he pulled a few strings, and Sigi worked with a lot of magazines. After getting a temporary spot in a hotel, Robert spent his days trying to figure out some part of Sigi’s schedule and his nights trying to sneak ever closer for a glimpse. He’d make a decent stalker if he were any less morally strict.

Part of his hunting, once he got close enough, involved having to hide his face and hide his scent. There were ways to cover enough of his scent that a potential predator wouldn’t recognize him if he was always around, and then suddenly, inexplicably nearby on a dark night in an abandoned street. Robert wore essential oils, a different one every day he knew he’d be near enough for Sigi to possibly spot him, and on some days he covered his torso with unsavoury things like old blood from a butcher’s shop or, on the worst days, cooled bacon grease. He hated being near potential vampires smelling like a BLT but they didn’t care as much for meat as they did fresh, hot blood.

He tried to stick to essential oils for the most part, but they got costly.

He didn’t have to start coating himself in a different stink for a little while, able to observe from a greater distance, but once he started trying to keep track of everyone Sigi went on a date with he started to worry and move in closer. They didn’t seem to all… go home. Most did. It was hard to spot at first. But nearly one in twelve people didn’t leave Sigi’s house after they followed him home from a party. Every twelve dates, somebody vanished.

The longer Robert waited, the more people would mysteriously disappear.

He was careful to make sure, of course, but after he watched twenty-eight different people go home with Sigi and two didn’t leave the house again with Robert watching well into the next day, until Sigi left by himself… Robert had to resign himself to the fact that he was going to get much closer to Sigi now.

A few more strings pulled and suddenly Robert was editing for magazines that liked to cover Sigi’s body of work, whether it was makeup or fashion or art curation or scientific studies. (How on Earth did anyone have so many fingers in so many different fields? Robert had maybe one half of a hobby and Sigi was the Renaissance.) Eventually, someday soon, Robert was going to have to meet the guy face-to-face.

His chance finally came when he got to attend an open lecture at a university, with Sigi as the guest specialist. Sigi was giving a lecture to grad students and Robert was left stupefied just listening to the whole thing. With the documentary narration and audio books, Sigi was likely to have a script; during the lecture he did not hold any notes at all. He instructed everyone present on a very specific period in early modern military history and even answered questions at the end, no script, no notes, nothing. Robert even learned some things about military history that he didn’t have much use for.

Since he was going to edit the brief article about Sigi’s lecture today, Robert was able to get close enough to thank Sigi for the opportunity. Close up, Sigi was the single most alarming being Robert had ever had to address.

He was courteous. He was well-spoken. He was a gracious guest and delighted to meet anyone who’d enjoyed the lecture. He shook Robert’s hand. Robert was petrified the entire time, unable to string two words together without feeling his innards all clench up.

Looking at Sigi in person, having him look at you and speak directly to you, was… horrifying. Robert had survived vampire attacks, had hunted and killed some pretty vicious predators, and he had never been as unsettled as he had when getting to meet Sigi. He couldn’t explain how, exactly; his voice was very soothing, as inviting as a voice could be, and if Robert could look away at all without seeming entirely rude he could probably even relax.

Sigi smiled, interrupting himself, and instead said to Robert, “You seem overwhelmed. Is there anything I can do?”

Oh, God, when he smiled it was even worse. Robert nearly vomited, so shocked by the sight of it that he almost didn’t know how to speak for a moment. He wasn’t starstruck. He didn’t care for celebrities at all— once he’d met his favourite author and was able to have a perfectly civil, levelheaded conversation with her. He wasn’t even interested in Sigi’s work, he wasn’t a fan… This wasn’t jitters, this was raw animal terror and unspeakable, indescribable horror given a pretty face and a handsome voice.

“Sorry, you…” Robert decided he couldn’t hide it at all even if Sigi hadn’t made note of it. Might as well play along. “I wasn’t ready to meet you in person. And you gave such a wonderful lecture.”

“Thank you. I’m very lucky the university will have me. You have an interest in the subject?”

Sigi wasn’t dressed the way he was in the fashion spreads or on the red carpet, just a tie and dress shirt under a simple sweater, brown leather Oxfords— he was dressed more like an academic today, and he was still somehow radiant. Robert had always been mystified by makeup that didn’t intend to look halfway natural and Sigi’s red lips were no exception.

Sigi smiled again, making Robert feel more ill. “You’re staring at my mouth,” Sigi noted calmly, no quieter than before.

Robert jolted with alarm. “Sorry. My… my niece wears your lipstick. She’s a fan; she actually had to tell me who you were.”

Sigi’s smile broadened. “Ooh. You must live in the woods,” he remarked, as though he envied Robert.

Robert was trying very hard to remind himself that he couldn’t start to like Sigi even the tiniest bit if he was going to have to kill him. “Not anymore, I’m just hopeless.” He tried to duck out courteously, gesturing around the room at the bustling faculty and students. “I won’t take up any more of your time, but thanks so much. It was a pleasure.”

Sigi shook his hand again. “Likewise. You should attend the lecture next month.”

Robert nodded, made his way outside, and promptly dry-heaved over a bush behind the lecture hall.

He didn’t hate Sigi, and that was probably the most alarming part of all. He was scary as all hell but he wasn’t trying to be; Robert had met plenty of people through his day job and few had even tried to be as warm as Sigi had been.

It was his face, Robert realized, thinking about it on the way back to his hotel room; Sigi’s face was so perfect, so astoundingly beautiful, that it totally fucked with your eyes. It threw off your balance and made you almost motion sick. This wasn’t a thing Robert had noticed with other vampires; this seemed to be particular only to Sigi. He’d heard of the uncanny valley— this was an uncanny deep sea trench. People weren’t meant to see faces that perfect.

Upon further reflection, Robert couldn’t figure out why he thought of Sigi’s face that way. He wasn’t even what Robert found most attractive, superficially. But something about him forced Robert to know, beyond a doubt, that Sigi was so beautiful, so utterly perfect, that he was beyond description. It wasn’t Robert’s personal preference; it was a fact. It was awful to look at.

Once Robert felt well enough to take the bus back to his hotel, he spent the next hour or so trying to get more background information on Sigi. He should have guessed he’d come up with very little; ten minutes into his research he was digging through blogs that seemed devoted to guessing things about Sigi. All people knew for sure was that he was ‘probably from Germany’, but even that was contested in the comment sections on Youtube. Apparent linguists online would get angry enough to remark on how Sigi’s accent was not the typical German accent from any part of the country, so he had to be faking it. Native German speakers would be a bit more optimistic, but still confused.

Sigi did not give people concrete information about himself, it would seem. Nobody really knew how old he was or when his birthday might be, people couldn’t confirm where he was from, and although it was clear that Sigi was well-educated it was hard to find a full list of which schools he had attended. People online argued about that, too.

Just looking at the list of documentaries Sigi had narrated on Wikipedia, Robert felt intimidated. Did Sigi have any level of expertise in all of these subjects? Robert didn’t even care about all these subjects and yet he felt woefully inadequate for about half an hour, before he decided he was just tired and shaken up from having to meet Sigi in person. He went to bed early that night.

A lack of background information at this point was getting more and more suspicious. Robert started trying to dig up anything he could get on Stefan, Sigi’s personal assistant. The guy didn’t hold interviews or anything, but he was usually at Sigi’s side during public appearances. Throughout the entire lecture Robert could see him standing by the door, holding Sigi’s phone and looking vaguely unhappy.

Stefan didn’t seem to do much for Sigi apart from hold his phone and his coat. He had no history with other secretarial positions, didn’t seem comfortable with half of the events Sigi went to, and if there wasn’t proof of Sigi flat-out refusing the idea that Stefan was actually his boyfriend Robert would have to assume that was the only reason Sigi had given him that job. Although… thinking back on it, Sigi had visibly ignored Stefan the whole time Robert was at the lecture hall, before and after the lecture itself; Sigi also never seemed to speak to Stefan in public. He kept the guy close but he ignored him. Stefan didn’t try to talk to him, either. They just seemed to barely put up with one another.

Robert didn’t immediately think Stefan might be a thrall, but he looked through all the candid pictures online where Stefan was visible off to the side until he found three in which a neck injury or a bruise were in evidence. Stefan might be a thrall. That might be the only thing keeping him near Sigi. But thralls were usually completely brain-dead until they got near people, which was when they started acting like rabid dogs, no matter how loyal they were to their vampires. Stefan was always in public with Sigi and seemed to be mostly normal, if a little anxious.

Robert pulled some strings again; he was going to attend two more magazine shindigs soon, one to give him one last chance to meet Sigi in person, and one to make his move. If Sigi proved a lost cause at the first event, then Robert didn’t have to attend the second one. He hoped he was wrong about all this and Sigi was just a weird European celebrity and Stefan was just a terrible secretary.

He dreaded being caught. Not because of getting arrested, but because… Sigi had a lot of fans.

A lot of fans.

If Robert had to kill Sigi he was going to disappoint quite a lot of people. Possibly ruin a few jobs, given how busy the guy was.

But Robert didn’t do this for the glory or the gratitude or the fun. There was no glory, rarely any gratitude, and he definitely didn’t have any fun doing it. He did this because he couldn’t sleep at night just ignoring them. He kept thinking about the people who didn’t ever walk back out of Sigi’s home.

The first shindig was a pretty fancy one. Robert had to rent a tuxedo, although he resisted the brief impulse to get a haircut. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone; he just didn’t want to stand out. And he was on a budget— he was running low on peppermint oil.

Robert was tempted to get drunk at the bar before he talked to Sigi again. He approached, ready to order two of the most potent drinks and knock them back immediately, then paused when he noticed Stefan wandering closer to the bar. He slowed down to let Stefan grab the bartender’s attention first. Stefan ordered something for himself, nothing for Sigi, and drank it right there.

It would probably be too obvious if he tried to talk to Stefan. Robert wasn’t real good at socializing, he hated parties, and he’d always be the guy to leave early. He watched as Stefan walked away, looking sullen as ever, completely ignoring Sigi and apparently only there to hold Sigi’s phone.

Robert waited just long enough to swallow two glasses of fruity, sweet cocktails before the liquid courage kicked in. Then he mingled.

It was never hard to find Sigi at these events. People flocked to him, and although his behaviour was always subdued, downright demure, he didn’t really have to work to grab anyone’s attention, either. Robert found him because he just looked for where the crowd was thickest.

Sigi was sitting on a love seat along the far wall, facing somebody seated in the adjacent armchair, holding conversation with a small group. Robert was surprised to see he was holding a glass of something— red, yes, but not that particular shade. He was about to suspect the glass was a bluff, a prop, until Sigi actually lifted it to his beautiful red mouth and drank.

Out of nowhere, Robert had the sudden thought: Please, God, don’t let him actually be a serial killer. Not that the alternative was very attractive, either.

Robert made small talk with someone nearby and worked his way slowly closer to the seating arrangements. He felt like he was trying to sneak closer to a python and desperately hoping it wouldn’t notice.

“Robert, was it?”

It was just his luck that the small group around Sigi had mostly dispersed when he finally got close enough, so Sigi noticed him immediately. Robert prepared himself for the sick feeling to kick in as he moved to make eye contact.

He had just enough time to register that Sigi was dressed significantly less like an academic tonight before Sigi unfolded himself gracefully from the love seat and stood.

“Yeh— hesss,” Robert’s reply came out in a feeble hiss like the air being let out of a punctured tire. Sigi wore heels tonight. He was already taller than Robert; because of the heels he had to crane his neck to avoid staring directly into Sigi’s chest, and Robert was a big guy. “Sigi, right?” he cracked pitifully, taking the manicured hand Sigi offered and finding himself shocked at the strength of the guy’s grip.

Sigi smiled— a faint one, but no less alarming to watch. “I’m flattered you recognized me. You’re a long way from the university.”

“Oh, I freelance for magazines. I was in town for family and I got roped into covering the event.”

“Your magazine pool sounds very diverse.”

Instead of addressing that, Robert said, letting his genuine surprise show, “I can’t believe you remembered me.”

“Public relations is what I do. Where would I be without that?” Sigi asked, before sipping his drink again.

That’s right. Robert glanced briefly at the glass to confirm that it wasn’t thick enough to be… damn it, that looked like pink champagne. “Well, isn’t that what you have your… guy for?”

Although Sigi had been pointedly spending time with anyone but Stefan so far, his eyes went directly over to the corner in which his assistant currently sulked. “In theory,” he said, as he returned swiftly to ignoring Stefan.

Robert didn’t feel like he was boring Sigi, but he wouldn’t be shocked if he was. “Well… I need to go find my date…”

Sigi’s smile widened. Robert noticed for the first time that his eyelashes were nearly white. “You’re lying to me, you fiendish thing.”

Robert felt his heart stop beating. His entire body reacted. “Sorry?” he wheezed, trying to laugh but finding he’d forgotten how.

Sigi coyly finished his drink. “I saw, you came here alone. No shame in that, of course.”

Robert tried not to seem as relieved as he was. He could force out that laugh now, although it troubled him to think Sigi might be flirting with him. Even more disturbing was the idea that Sigi had noticed him upon arrival. He’d known Robert was here this whole time. “Ah, you caught me. I was feeling awkward after Franklin over there introduced me to his date. I think she’s a model,” he added. He’d overheard Franklin’s friend tell him earlier, exasperated, that nobody cared what his date did, and could he please stop bragging?

Sigi chuckled. “Oh yes, Franklin. Great photographer, terrible braggart.”

Robert was starting to get dizzy looking up at Sigi and watching the red sequins of his outfit flash in the dim light of the room. Somehow he made a dignified escape and mingled a bit more.

Somehow he wound up near Sigi again later, despite his best efforts not to look like he was here to spy on the guy. Sigi didn’t seem to find it odd that Robert kept bumping into him, and by the time Robert was finally able to leave he’d almost gotten Robert to feel comfortable near him, if only by sheer force of courtesy.

Mysterious drinks aside, Sigi wasn’t the only person avoiding the hors d’oeuvres, so that couldn’t be taken too seriously. But after a little while Robert noticed that people seemed to actually stop talking when Sigi spoke up— not entirely, but the general volume consistently dropped every time Sigi said anything. Anything. And Robert found himself eager to seek out Sigi by the end of the night, after talking to him thrice, feeling as if he’d found something interesting he wanted to tell Sigi—

That was what made up his mind. He was going to have to move in fast at the next event.

He still felt that eager-excited puppy-love as he drove back to his hotel in his rented car. Sigi had done nothing, really, to justify Robert feeling like he’d just asked the most popular girl in school to the dance and she’d said yes. Sigi was polite, casually flirtatious at times, but he had done nothing to single Robert out. It had still taken Robert four real attempts before he could actually leave.

Old vampires were very, very good at enthralling a roomful of people. True, Sigi had the added advantage of his shocking beauty, but Robert was almost too afraid to look at him head-on and he was still feeling that feeling two hours after he’d left the party.

And it wasn’t as though he looked forward to having to snipe someone, so that wasn’t it.

He had one week to stock up on the right oils and clean his gear. He got started immediately, as soon as he stripped out of his tuxedo and got into a housecoat, to help get rid of that puppy-love feeling a little bit faster. Harder to feel smitten when you were planning an assassination.

Despite his dread for the upcoming event, the week flew by. Robert suddenly found himself re-packing his hunting gear, checking over the necessities, checking the essential oils, double- and triple-checking the cleanliness of his weapon. He wasn’t going to get in close; that was a rookie mistake and usually impractical. If he could snipe his target from a distance, that would be best. Fewer people would suffer. Robert stood less chance of being arrested, too.

In Robert’s varied experience, the only things that really killed a vampire were decapitation and a well-aimed hole in the heart. Sometimes decapitation wasn’t fully reliable; a vampire already in panic mode could manage headless long enough to cause some real damage. But getting the heart always worked.

A wooden stake would do it, sure, and Robert had figured out a while ago that the denser the wood the better the attack. Metal piercing the heart didn’t work as reliably as, say, ebony, which was something Robert knew from harrowing experience but couldn’t explain. So he had his bullets made custom out of ebony.

The gun was technically a custom job, too; after a lot of help from the one weird redneck cousin Robert had in his extended family, Robert had made a gun that worked at medium range and wouldn’t totally destroy dense wood bullets upon firing them. It was technically a sniper rifle, but he couldn’t shoot from too far off. Tragically, this meant he’d have to get relatively close to his target if he wanted this to work. No distant rooftops tonight.

And so there he was, lurking in the underground parking lot underneath the event taking place upstairs, having doused himself in way too much peppermint oil, kind of burning from the oil and the adrenaline. It took him forty-six minutes to locate Sigi’s car; it was another party for wealthy guests, people in entertainment. Everyone had an expensive car. Sigi’s car didn’t stand out here, unlike its owner.

He waited between a support pillar and a raised curb on the corner, between the floors in the lot, and watched Sigi’s car intently. Anyone who walked past his hiding spot didn’t notice him, hidden as he was beneath a dusty grey tarp; he looked like a pile of construction junk. He smelled ridiculous, too; the peppermint was so strong that he might actually pass for real trash, too much for anyone to really want to investigate.

His heart was pounding in his ears for the first twenty minutes of his vigil. The party was well underway; he saw very few people leave the doors at the far end of the lot, and hardly anyone came halfway to his hiding spot. Most of the people he spotted were obviously drunk, or else high on something, or just too preoccupied to even care if Robert were to stand up, wave his rifle over his head, and yawn real loud. He wanted to, so badly, but instead of standing he worked on methodically flexing the muscles in his legs to keep them from falling asleep.

He didn’t expect to see Sigi until the event was over, but fifty-seven minutes after he found his hiding place, still slowly flexing muscles one at a time to keep himself from getting stuck in position, he got his chance. Sigi himself stepped out of the door to the parking garage, alone. As always, even from a distance it was easy to tell it was him. Much taller than average, long near-white hair tumbling over his shoulders to bounce with every step, heels clicking on the pavement.

Robert was suddenly calm, at peace. All his nerves were forgotten as he focused entirely on the rhythm of Sigi’s step as he approached, aiming carefully for the chest, watching him as he came within range.

Robert watched Sigi’s face through the gun’s scope and was intrigued by the utter lack of any kind of expression. Sigi didn’t even look as if he was deep in thought; he was only walking, doing nothing else. He was just as startling staring blankly at the air in front of his face as he was when addressing someone. For an instant, Robert felt that unwelcome almost-adoration nudge its way into his brain again.

He exhaled slowly, soundlessly, as Sigi reached his car. Sigi lifted a hand to the front door, about to use the key.

Robert pulled the trigger. The gun was muffled, quiet. His aim was good.

At the same time, Sigi twisted to the right.

The bullet pierced a hole in the driver’s side window. Robert noticed this exactly when he realized Sigi was staring in his direction.

Gone was the calm non-expression he’d worn as he entered the garage. Sigi was not afraid— he was undoubtedly furious.

Quite a good distance away, Robert recoiled as Sigi took a few steps forward, now aimed in his direction. As if he’d forgotten Sigi was too far away to strike at him.

Time stretched out. Five seconds felt like five years. In the moments it took for Robert to realize he was still hidden, still far enough away that he could escape with a head start, he saw the way Sigi moved and he was utterly terrified for his life.

He knew now. He knew he’d chosen the right target.

The door to the parking garage swung open as somebody shouted, “Sigi!”

Sigi stopped immediately, turned casually to glance over at the door. He was moving normally again, just a pretty man at a party in expensive clothing. With one last glance over at Robert’s hiding place, leaving no doubt in Robert’s mind that he knew precisely where that bullet had come from, Sigi turned to step calmly back toward the door.

“You weren’t going to leave us so soon, were you?” called the old woman at the door, dressed in a glittering cocktail dress.

“I thought I’d brought my glasses,” Sigi replied gently, his voice carrying well in the quiet garage, “I realize I’ve forgotten them at home.”

“Oh, dear. I’ll lend you some of mine.”

Robert barely heard Sigi’s chuckled response (“Thank you, I doubt your prescription is sufficient. I’ll manage.”) because he’d figured out that he’d been given the greatest gift of his life: a chance to get out and regroup without bloodshed. He dismantled his gun quicker than ever before, moving too fast for his hands to shake, and before he understood how he’d gotten out of his hiding place he was sprinting for dear life, faster than he’d ever covered ground in all his years of hunting, knowing he’d never be so lucky again. He did not turn around to look for Sigi, knowing in sight of the old woman he would let Robert flee.

He’d parked his car at the outer edge of the property. He leapt behind the wheel and started the engine as he pulled the door shut, screamed out of there burning rubber. He turned so fast he nearly lost control of the car, pulled away from the event, quivering as the adrenaline started to drain slowly out of him.

As he passed the main entrance, seconds away from driving through the front gate, something shattered on the passenger side and hit him hard in the ribs. He yelped but was smart enough not to stop. It took him ten seconds to understand there was a hole in his passenger window.

His phone was ringing.

He couldn’t stop here. He kept driving until he was several blocks away, then slowed down and backtracked a little, before he pulled into the lot of a pizzeria. His car smelled like peppermint.

The phone started ringing again. He shook his hands out and looked for the phone while he massaged the new bruise in his side. “…Hello?”

“When do you plan on arriving, Robert? Did you find the venue yet?”

Oh, Christ. “Miriam, hi! You’re attending tonight?”

“Of course I am, don’t be silly. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet Sigi myself! Were you driving up or is your taxi lost?”

“Oh, no… no, I’m driving up. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting for me. Traffic was brutal leaving my neighbourhood, I got turned around once or twice trying to find a creative route…” Robert squeezed his eyes shut. How hadn’t he known the lead editor and magazine founder would be there tonight? Oh god, he had to change his clothes and wipe off this stupid peppermint…

After reassuring Miriam that he was going to be there shortly and he’d find her, he hung up and rubbed his face with both hands. He had a change of clothes in the trunk. Always did. He had baby wipes to get rid of the worst of the oils, and some cologne to take care of the adrenaline sweat. He could be ready in twenty minutes, there in twenty-five. He needed to calm down.

At least this would be a good alibi, he reasoned. People would place him there. He was showing up right after the failed snipe, true, but he lived too far away for it to make sense that he could have gone home, freshened up, and come back. He hoped.

He changed inside the car in the dark, wiping every inch of his skin clean of the peppermint oil, carefully applying just the right amount of cologne not to be too pungent again, and left his tie for last. Before he stepped out of the car to adjust the fit of his shirt and jacket, he looked at the passenger window and decided to look for the projectile. It wasn’t a bullet, that was for sure…

He found it on the floor, having tumbled beneath the driver’s seat. It was a rock, just big enough to sit in his palm, not round but polished smooth. It hadn’t come from somebody’s driveway, it was part of an interior decor. The side against his palm was rough, so he tipped his hand to turn it over.

TRY THAT AGAIN.

Scratched into the stone.

Robert stepped outside to vomit onto the pavement, then put the stone inside the dashboard and got his toothbrush from his bag.

He drove halfway back toward the venue and parked in an underground lot that would cost him more than it would at the venue, then walked the rest of the way. He couldn’t explain a hole in the window very well tonight. At least he was cleaned up, dressed appropriately, and wearing cologne with no trace of peppermint. He’d stopped shaking and sweating. The walk would help to further calm him.

Miriam found him almost as soon as he walked past the coat room. As she grasped his arm and led him deeper through the crowd of people sipping wine and chatting he spotted a bowl of polished stones like the one that had punctured his window.

He didn’t see Sigi anywhere. He wondered whether he’d left after Robert’s escape. Miriam would have said something, though, since he was there to cover the party and Sigi was a major feature. It made Robert nervous not to know where Sigi was.

Considering how intent he was upon Sigi’s possible whereabouts, it was shameful to Robert that he didn’t notice the man approach until Sigi had a hand on his shoulder, pressing gently, as one would greet an old friend. Robert took in Miriam’s look of surprise and delight, a complete reverse of the way Robert felt at the moment, before he turned to look.

He expected Sigi to be angry. Of course that didn’t make sense. They were back inside, surrounded by guests, being civil, and Sigi didn’t know Robert had just sprinted away from him in the parking garage, coated in peppermint oil with a gun case tucked under his arm. Sigi’s smile didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes— or maybe that was Robert’s imagination at work.

Sigi had spoken. Miriam was demanding an explanation as to how he and Robert knew each other. Robert stammered, lost already, ashamed he’d missed the start of the conversation because it made him look somewhat more like a guilty party. Sigi’s grip on his shoulder didn’t quite tighten, really, but his fingers squeezed briefly, one at a time, as if to playfully tease Robert before his hand slid gently along his upper arm.

It was more distracting than the possibility of Sigi being angry with him. Robert tried not to look like he was reacting to a shockwave of goosebumps all along both arms.

“Robert attended a lecture of mine recently. We keep running into each other,” Sigi explained, when Robert’s stunned silence lasted a millisecond too long. “Divine coincidence, hm?”

Miriam voiced dismay that Robert had somehow forgotten to mention this to her earlier, while Sigi kept the hand loosely around Robert’s tricep. Somehow making it feel less like Robert was being restrained, more like an affectionate touch. Robert glanced hesitantly up at Sigi’s perfect pale face for any sign that he was going to die tonight and realized with a sinking feeling that Sigi was being affectionate with him. At least in front of Miriam. It might change as soon as they had room. Robert felt his jangled nerves waking up again, leaving him ready to bolt and, for the moment, clear-headed. It wouldn’t last.

Somehow the conversation between Sigi and Miriam was a quick one. Miriam got Sigi to promise an interview, they arranged a date, and somehow, somehow, Miriam was off with a wink for Robert.

Robert had the ridiculous, terrible urge to beg her not to leave him alone with Sigi, but he reeled in the urge at the last second.

Sigi’s grip didn’t tighten up the way Robert expected it to. Rather, Sigi merely lowered his voice, dropped the hand from his arm after a lingering touch, and leaned in.

“Apparently someone here is hiding a crush.”

The tone was soft, discreet, and the words were entirely not what Robert was expecting. Robert felt his face go hot and he looked up at Sigi’s face before he remembered how the sight upset him. “I’m— sorry?”

Sigi’s deep red lips pulled apart in a smile as he glanced across the room. “You aren’t very good at it, mind you, which leads me to believe you’re actually just terrified of me.” He looked sideways at Robert and the smile turned briefly into a cheeky grin. “Although, being freelance, you have plenty of control over the work you take on, don’t you?”

Robert swallowed twice to get the creaking out of his throat. “Your date must have stood you up tonight,” he attempted weakly.

It shouldn’t have pleased him that Sigi seemed to enjoy his joke, but it did. Sigi smiled down at him and the sound of his soft chuckle was the warmest, most inviting sound Robert had ever heard. “Were you always afraid to talk to your crushes or am I special?” he asked sweetly. As if he had never noticed the effect he had on people. As if Robert were the first person to feel uncomfortable near him.

“…I was always crap at it,” Robert admitted, feeling some of the extreme fear drain out of him the longer they spoke. There was still a chance this could go badly. One in twelve, Robert reminded himself grimly— if the danger wasn’t immediate, there was still that unsettling ratio to keep in mind. “I always thought the girls I liked were out of my league.” Not a lie; he could talk about high school, no problem.

Sigi tilted his head. His long hair slid forward off his shoulder, bounced and swayed. He smelled so nice. “Given how anxious you are right now, am I correct in assuming I’m not your usual type, on top of that?”

Robert, feeling helpless, nodded.

Sigi’s gaze flicked down, studying Robert from head to toe. “A shame,” he hummed, “You’re definitely my type.”

Robert was going to die of a heart attack before Sigi could sink his teeth into him. He knew it. “R-really?” God, he was terrible with flirting. Even if Sigi was just toying with him. It made him nervous coming from anyone and this was Sigi, intimidating enough on his own without the added threat of being a violent predator. This guy had a Wikipedia page so long it took Robert four hours to read it— four hours to get the summary of Sigi’s achievements— and a face that hurt to look at in unexpected ways and here he was flirting quite openly at Robert. Fans and non-fans tended to agree Sigi was one of the most gorgeous people alive and he was flirting with Robert.

He wondered, stupidly, what his niece would say if she heard of this.

Sigi didn’t seem perturbed by Robert’s very obvious terror. He nodded, still studying Robert thoughtfully as one would take in a landscape painting. “I like the beard.”

It occurred to Robert that it would be polite to say something. “Thank you,” was all he could come up with.

Sigi seemed utterly charmed with him nonetheless. He rested the hand on Robert’s shoulder again, this time with no doubt that the touch was affectionate, nothing sinister. Thumb stroking the fabric of Robert’s suit. “I would love to continue this discussion in a more intimate setting.” That smile widened imperceptibly again. “I’d like to see more of how you talk to your crushes.”

The rest of the night passed in a haze. Robert found himself back in his car, stupefied and afraid, and utterly confused. He’d started the night prepared to snipe a vampire.

How had he wound up with a dinner date?

[willswalkabout]

Peru part 3. Return to Cusco

Way too long coming I know, but oh well, I’ve been busy and lazy and the whole thing should be done within a week or so. Peru part 3 (Cuzco part 2), here goes.

I’d done my Machu Picchu expedition over the space of 3 days, which meant that upon returning to Cuzco I had no intention of trekking the very next day. This intention was far from fulfilled, as that evening I met Jaina and Kelsey, both travelling together from the US. They had very limited time in Cuzco with a flight to Lima on the Friday. Given they wanted to do Rainbow Mountain I decided it was better to do a bit tired with friends, than refreshed alone. We booked it that evening and took an early night, given the 430am meet time.

We reconvened in the dark, bleary eyed and hoping to get some sleep on the four hour trip to the mountain. We were told the first two hours of the ride, which took us to breakfast, were on ‘good tarmac roads’. Of course everything is relative, and it was still far too bumpy for me to get any kind of sleep. All the tours offer the exact same package, the only variables seem to be price and the quality of breakfast. We went with our hostel’s deal, which is definitely not always the best option. Breakfast however was excellent, certainly in comparison to some horror stories I’ve heard, of some stale/mouldy bread with a juice carton. We had Spanish omelette, frankfurters, toast, jam and coffee. I scoffed down as much as wouldn’t seem rude. There was then another two hours on a more treacherous road which Kelsey and Jaina enjoyed to a lesser extent. The drop to the right side was sheer, and plunged approximately 100ft by my reckoning. Eventually we arrived at the mountain which to little surprise, had been found by a few other tour groups before us.

I’ve learnt on the trip not to let this put me off. It usually means there are stunning views, and enough space to still get an Instagram where it looks like you’re the only person there.

It’s about 5km as I remember to the summit, and takes about two hours. It was the first time the altitude had really hit me, we were now at 17,000ft, with Cuzco being at 11,000ft. This made the hike pretty challenging, I drunk two and a half litres of water easily on the way up. The walk is made more frustrating by the fact you can pay about £15 to ride a horse up. The horses are for the most part dragged up the mountain by 5 foot tall Peruvian women. Neither the horses or their owners look like they ever get days off, and I really felt for some of the animals in particular who looked so worn down, every step was a struggle. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact most of the horses were ridden by overweight westerners. The other riders were a good few Asian tourists filming the entire ride on go pros. I’m sure a riveting watch for all the family when they return home. They don’t have a separate path, so you are constantly being made to give way to a plodding horse on its as it climbs up, or ducking out the way of a horse that is being made to canter down the hill riderless, to pick up its next rider. Saying all this the view from the top of the mountain is absolutely stunning. You can see for miles, and you have the entirely unique scene of the painted mountains. The last climb is the hardest, meaning it isn’t quite as busy at the very top, this bit is too steep for even the most alive of horses. We managed to walk down to a quieter spot to take a plethora of photos. Luckily we were one of the first of our group of around 20 to reach the summit, and so had a great amount of time to take it all in. Casually residing on the other side of the canyon to the rainbow mountains is Peru’s 4th or 5th highest mountain. Higher than any in the UK of course, it stood as an intimidating presence, and apparently has never been climbed.

I found the route down more challenging than that up. Although the path did undulate, I think this was more due to the pure accumulation of time spent so high up. By the time we finally reached the minibus all three of us were struggling with pounding headaches and lack of breath. More sleep was managed on the way back to the hostel where we pulled in at about 7.

We were all starving and so headed to a place called ‘Green Point’. It is Cusco’s only totally vegan restaurant. We mainly went because Kelsey’s vegan, they had been the day before. I was a little apprehensive, and they spent much time apologising in advance in case I didn’t like it. I couldn’t have been more wrong, it was some of the best food of my entire trip. I had the quinoa burger with sweet potato fries. It came with three different dips and was incredibly filling. We somewhat waddled back to our hostel after. We’d at one point spoke of going out that evening, but by this point none of us could move. I said my goodbye’s to Kelsey and Jaina, who had a flight at 7am the next day.

The next day was relaxed and very enjoyable, and really helped to validate the fact I had chosen to spend 11 days in the city. Myself and Alison found a bijou but delicious coffee place for breakfast with one of the prettiest menus I have ever seen.

I then spent the rest of the day chilling in the hostel, and I think writing the Chile blog. When it came to the evening, Liz, Alison and I went on somewhat of a bar/hostel crawl. We started at the Irish owned Wild Rover, which is way up on a hill, and would be horrific to walk back to late. I had considered staying at Cusco’s self proclaimed ‘best party hostel’, and this visit made me so glad I had stayed at the wonderful Ecopackers for my entire time instead. Wild rover involved lots of dancing on the bar, but I think the fact they chose to project scenes of people having a much better time at a festival, on a big screen, told you that it was incredibly forced. After little more than an hour there we moved downhill to Loki. Loki is also a ‘party hostel’ but is older and felt more genuine than Wild Rover. I also approved of the water gun that was capable of firing shots into the gaping mouths of revellers. It was fun and I think we met a few Americans there but they may have been Canadian, that then accompanied us to Cusco’s only true club, Changos. Changos was surprisingly good. It had a big space, a well organised but reasonably priced bar, and hadn’t completely sold itself out to the backpacker market, with a good percentage of locals in attendance. It was therefore somewhat frustrating that I had to leave Changos at 230am, to watch the final British and Irish Lions test. I say frustrating, but I’d been overwhelmed with excitement ever since the end of the second test, a week previous. Finding that my hostel had ESPN 2 South America earlier in the day, was one of the single greatest moments of elation I’ve ever experienced. I grabbed a kebab and jogged back to the hostel common room. It was pitch black with everyone either in bed, or out. I switched on the television, and to my relief it burst into life with the haka, albeit with Spanish commentary. I then plugged my phone in and made a WhatsApp call to dad, watching it at 8:30am at home. I made him pause and play his stream so that our game clocks were synced up, and he gave me the commentary down the phone. It was an incredibly cagey game, and when the Spanish adverts rolled on at half time I did fall asleep while still on the call. (Alcohol consumption + comfy sofa + 3:15am). At this point dad must have panicked, wondering if he’d be able to awake me from my slumber before the start of the second half. I think I woke up about the 47 minute mark, and only missed one penalty. The series ended in the most bizarre of fashions. A controversial tv ref decision saving the Lions, and committing the match to a tie. Both teams looked around not knowing whether to celebrate or fall to the ground in despair. The sides both had big opportunities to win the game within the last 20 minutes that weren’t taken. I dragged myself to bed, still overjoyed that I’d managed to watch the game live, 3 weeks after seeing the team in Rotorua, a town that couldn’t possibly seem further away. Three weeks felt like three months, in the best of ways.

The next day was fairly uneventful. Liz, Marieka and myself did some shopping, and got food at the market. I did find out that Marieka who is dutch, plays hockey to a pretty high level, and her dad is an ICC umpire. This provided a huge amount of conversation, to the point that to our fault, we almost forgot about Liz walking with us, and had to apologise profusely. A few others had got back from a hike that day, so I was glad to introduce more people to Green Point. There were so many items on the menu I was desperate to try, I really did not need an excuse. I had the stir fry this time which was fantastic, while others sampled vegan sushi, lasagne and a few Peruvian delicacies.

On Sunday I did a jam packed tour of the sacred valley with Liz, Alison and Marieka. Jam packed because we managed to find a version that basically fitted a day and a half’s tour into one. It meant a lot of jumping on and off the bus with little time to stop, but was what we wanted really. I don’t feel guilty in saying some of the ruins were far more impressive than others. I expect the ones I was least captured by, are the most fascinating for archaeologists. I loved the salt mines, and ruins at Ollantaytambo. The agricultural farming circles less so. The guinea pig farm at the start of the tour was also pretty cool. We left at around 530am I think, and the day was pretty tiring. When I got back to the hostel I ate there, and then met Luke (who featured in Santiago and Buenos Aires), and has one more appearance to come… He was staying with his dad in Cusco. There was a pretty impressive district wide power cut, which resulted in us all huddling round the fire. I also met Eliza, a law student from Brussels who had some pretty passionate views on the UK’s incompetence re Brexit, which was amusing and terrifying at the same time.

My final day in Cusco involved my best empanadas of the trip, and a visit to what wasn’t the monkey temple… An Irish guy who’s name I’ve forgotten was set on visiting this temple, however I’m pretty sure it’s a nickname and he definitely didn’t know it’s Spanish name. After a couple of taxi drivers looked back at us with blank expressions, one claimed he knew where to go and we piled in. He didn’t. He also only managed to take us halfway up the hill he was intending to, so we got out and enjoyed the view from what was still a decent set of ruins. That evening about 10 of us got dinner at, well, obviously, green point. I hadn’t had the Lentil burger yet! I won’t name everyone but there was a group of about 8 of us, all of which have multiple mentions in the Peru blogs who had dipped in and out of the hostel on tours, but who had generally stuck together. I loved having 11 days in a place with a great group of people. The dinner was a great way to finish my time in Peru, which I did love, and would love to return to. The next day I boarded a flight to Lima, and then onto Mexico City, but that’s for the next one.