#I really need to figure out an exact way of captioning these and stick to it cause I feel like every set I format that differently

[guardian-angle22]

911 Lone Star | Paul Strickland

↳ 4.10 Sellouts

[heyitsyn]

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 4

a/n: uwuwuwuwu @animesportboys​ and i were just talking about this and my heart was just bursting at this thought 😭

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

also requests are currently closed right now since i have like nearly 30 to finish so please be patient with me and wait for me to finish it all and until then i can open them up again. however, dont stop sending me cute stuff okay?  🥺

summary: its the time of the month for seijoh’s manager 🥺

@ yn when shes extra moody and mean during that time and does this every time she hears anything even come out of the boys’ mouth

oh dear

so basically

it’s,,,,,, a natural thing that most girls go through every month for more than half of their lives and its absolutely D R E A D F U L

the boys ofc knew what the hell a period was bc hello health class so they knew you would become this,,, other version of yourself

youd be moodier, childish, and easy to annoy and snap to everyone

but you would quickly realize how you’re acting then be all regretful and teary and cry easily and then youd forget about it then start the cycle again

you’d stick your tongue out at them and tease them mercilessly, making them run even more laps and pushing them harder

‘I SEE THOSE ARMS SHAKING, IWAIZUMI HAJIME. ADD 15 MORE TO THAT ROUTINE’

‘WHAT?!’

‘IF I SEE YOU EVEN A STEP BEHIND KINDAICHI, YOU WILL BE RUNNING 8 MORE LAPS KUNIMI’

‘NOO!!!!’

‘CHECK YOURSELF OUT ONE MORE TIME, YAHABA, I WILL GOUGE OUT YOUR EYES’

‘HAVE MERCY!!!!’

dear god they hated it

when it was time, they would protect themselves and work even harder and be more perfect to make sure you couldnt see their faults and point them out and try and kill them

it was like war for everyone

but they didnt know the exact date it started so they didnt really know when to start preparing for war until it came

this time, you didnt either

you didnt even know you were starting as you were extra busy booking the buses for away comps and collecting and emailing teachers for any missed homeworks for the team

so when it did start,,,

oh dear part 2

it wasnt really something you found out when you woke up that morning but you noticed you must be getting close since you were feeling extra cranky and you havent even been awake for more than an hour

nothing really happened throughout the day so you were just thinking that you didnt get enough sleep last night so you were just tired and wanted to sleep

but then it happened

you were standing next to iwa, reviewing his spike percentages when you shifted your weight to the other leg and then your eyes widened

your water broke

i saw this tiktok of this one girl and she was about to start filming with her friend when her eyes widened and her friend knew immediately and her caption was ‘my water broke’

iwa was worried as heck on to what was going on with you and even followed your gaze to see it on the wall and nothing out of the ordinary

‘y/n?’

‘oh god’

you mumbled and you wanted to run but you were too scared that you leaked and probably have an obvious redness on your white track pants

yep it def was your time bc you felt tears welling up in your eyes and you sniffled, embarrassed and upset for this to happen now, of all times

then oikawa tooru bursted through the doors

iwa, taking his eyes off of you and to the captain, started to yell at him until he noticed the brunette’s flushed face and panting form, hunched over as he gripped on the door handle with the plastic bag

you, too busy trying to think of a way to get out of there like deciding to waddle or to just crawl, didnt see oikawa as he approached you

the team paused and watched as he took a black hoodie from the plastic bag and wrapped it around your waist

‘hmm, y/n-chan, better get dressed so we can go now’

he hummed and you snapped out of your panic and looked up at him with watery eyes

‘oikawa-san’

you whispered and he nodded, eyes knowing what was going on

‘coach, theres a planetarium special tonight’

oikawa shouted without tearing his gaze away from you and coach irihata instantly knew, knowing the code that oikawa came up with when you became a part of the family team

the elder coach made a noise of agreement and oikawa didnt wait to up and carry you in his arms and waved to the team while pushing your head in his chest so you can hide

‘work hard everyone!’

‘oi, shittykawa! what the hell-!’

but an intense side-eye from his best friend shut him up and he knew something happened so he didnt say anything since he trusts oikawa to fix it

‘i trust you will take care of them, iwa-chan’

iwaizumi nodded firmly before shouting to resume back to practice and he himself went back to the line for spikes

you were carried to the bathroom so you could change into your emergency undies and pad and after you did your business, oikawa noticed you uncomfortably waddling towards him so he took you back into his arms

oikawa continued to carry you like his bride down the street towards an unknown destination, humming a children’s show tune that takeru loved to watch, while you maintained curled around yourself, partly due to the shame but also from the pain in your abdomen

you wiped the few stray tears that spilled past your eyes and oikawa chuckled when he noticed you aggressively wipe them off

‘hmm, y/n-chan, you shouldnt do that to yourself. it irritates your eyes and the skin around it so gently dab it next time, kay?’

you nodded, burrowing back to his chest and breathing in his scent

french toast

he smelled like french toast as the smell of caramel and vanilla wafted into your nose

‘howd you know’

you mumbled against the fabric of his jacket

oikawa stopped his humming and replaced it with a chuckle

‘oh, y/n-chan. oikawa-san is a reliable senpai, dont you know? i got a tracker! just for you!’

he answered and your eyes moved from his arm to his smile and you gripped his jacket tighter, fingers curled around it as if it was your lifeline

‘thank you, oikawa-san’

your words of appreciation made oikawa’s heart thump and he faltered a little, blush creeping up his neck, but he fought it down, covering it up with a smirk

‘you should be, y/n-chan! girls would kill to be you right now!’

you rolled your eyes at the return of his cocky attitude but you knew better

the real oikawa tooru was under that mask

turns out, he carried you to his home as his house was the closest while yours had to be taken by a bus

thankfully his parents were out and his sister and nephew were in a trip in tokyo that you had the house to yourselves without anyone asking questions that might make you uncomfortable and them misunderstand

he shut the door with his foot and made his way up the stairs with ease, his strength truly impressing you at that moment, before settling you down on his bed

it wasnt even on purpose but you curled yourself on his blanket, head buried in his pillow

his heart combusted and tooru had to look away or else he wouldve jumped on you and coddled you forever

instead, he quickly ran over and knelt down under his desk to reach for the box that he has prepared for you

‘y/n-chan, i never knew your pattern until last month so i was able to prepare for you now’

you looked up from your position on the bed and sat up enough to see him standing there, grinning with a mint green box

‘wh-what is that?’

you asked and he shuffled over, sitting next to you

‘this, is the y/n care love box! this special box was created by yours truly with everything you want and need during this dreadful week. theres your favorite food, warm socks, coupons you can spend like watching movies and eating ten tubs of ice cream while we talk shit about the boys’

he listed, gripping the box nervously 

‘so? do you like it?’

he looked away from the box and to you but his smile slipped into a panicked one when he saw you silently crying and biting your lip to keep the sobs in

‘y-y/n-chan! i-its okay if y-you dont like it! o-oikawa-san can-’

‘no!’

you cut him off and lunged to hug him with all your might

hehe all might

E A T   T H I S

‘i love you so much, oikawa-san! so much! thank you!’

you sobbed into his neck and he tightly hugged you back, lifting you so you could comfortably sit on his lap straddle him if you want me to be straight forward

oikawa gently moved so he was leaning against the wall that his bed was pressed against while you were pressed against his warmth

his fingers were drawing small circles on your back and whispering corny jokes or puns that made you giggle and laugh and occassionally, he would kiss your nose and you would whine at the ticklish feeling

eyes fleeting around the room, your eyes settled back on the box and you reached out, wanting to grab it until oikawa beat you to it and snatched it for you then placed it on your hold

‘whats inside, oikawa-san?’

you cutely mumbled, sitting comfortably back on his thighs so you could open the box in front of you

oikawa laughed

‘just open it and figure it out yourself, y/n-chan’

you pouted at his tease but smiled widely when you revealed the contents inside

‘oikawa-san!’

his eyes followed your surprised expression and his hands gripped your waist

‘you like it?’

he whispered and you nodded, looking back up at him and kissing his cheek, his 

‘youre so sweet, oikawa-san! like-like this candy bar! howd you know i like this?’

you held up the treat and he shrugged

‘i keep seeing you get it whenever we go to the store’

you continued to sift through the things, seeing a dvd of your favorite movie, a f/c heating pad, a note that said your favorite ice cream was in the fridge, a bag of your favorite chips, fluffy socks, the goodies

you didnt even notice yourself crying again, only realizing it when there were wet spots beneath you

oikawa saw this and he quickly but gently put the box to the side and cradled your face with both of his hands, softly wiping the tears away with his thumbs

‘aw, dont cry, my little baby. princesses should never cry’

you sniffled and choked a laugh

‘hah, n-not a baby. j-just hor-monal’

you complained and oikawa snickered but shook his head then kissed your nose again

‘youre my baby’

you didnt have it in you to complain so you went back to snuggling into him

oikawa squeezed you and went back to drawing the circles on your back and he felt you relax into his touch and slump against his form, slowly starting to snore

your head rested on his shoulder and he turned slightly to watch your eyes flutter and nose scrunch when a strand of your hair fell on it

his heart continued to beat faster and faster and it showed by the way his fingers shook as he carefully lifted the hair away from you

he slowly bent down to give you a kiss on the forehead before laying you down to sleep more comfortably

‘good night, princess’

he sweetly placed a last kiss on your cheek before getting up to go prepare your heating pad for when you wake up

the next few days were possibly the best period days youve ever had

maybe because it was oikawa telling the team that you were in,,,,, satan’s domain currently and they should be careful with you so they tried their best to lift the weight and burden off of your shoulders

however,,

the next day after the incident,,,

they still didnt know what was wrong with you and oikawa forgot to text the gc about your condition so they were still unknowing

like today

during your classes, you were feeling off, almost nauseous but eating little bits of your chocolate treats were helping you get through until lunch

ofc kunimi noticed bc hellow he sits next to you and he doesnt pay attention during class so hes been watching you sneak little bites so the teacher doesnt see and ducking under your book

he was just amused with the way your eyes would widen if you thought the teacher caught you

kindaichi and kunimi and you usually ate lunch together at your classroom since you three only got to hang out as first years during lunch

so they know you usually have a bento with you and have a general idea of how much you eat

and kunimi thought since you ate all those chocolates earlier, you wouldnt eat as much food but then he saw you scarf down your bento, eat 2 more bags of chips and was finishing last chocolate bar

kindaichi,,,, wasnt even finished with his own bento and was watching you, amazed, at how easily you ate all of it

they didnt say anything since they thought you just didnt eat dinner last night but even during the walk towards the gym for after school practice, you were complaining that you were hungry and was eating another chocolate bar

they thought something was truly wrong bc you were eating so much more than usual

kunimi watched you chew on it as you opened the gym door and still ate even when you were talking to mattsun about his jump height

‘man, you sure are hungry, aren’t you, y/n? thats like your fifth chocolate bar today’

kunimi teased, grabbing a ball to spike but he froze, seeing you with the coldest and angriest look hes ever seen

you blinked at him, grip tightening on the treat, and mattsun slowly backing away from you

you advanced towards the blep boy, treat already forgotten and shoved to be held by mattsun 

despite your shorter height than kunimi, he trembled slightly as you looked up at him

‘are you calling me fat, kunimi? are you? am i fat? do you think im ugly? im a piggie?’

you ranted and slowly started crying, making kunimi frantically scramble to stop you before the other upperclassmen see or worse, oikawa-san

‘y/n-wait-no!-um’

‘y/n-chan?’

kunimi shut his eyes tightly in fear at the deadly sweet voice of his captain and kindaichi and mattsun sent a quick prayer to their fellow teammate before he was going to get killed

‘uh oh, i think we’d have to start looking for a replacement for kunimi’

makki, who just arrived, teased making kindaichi fearfully look at him

‘eh?!’

‘oh, you first years have never seen oikawa mad, have ya? well, you’ll get front seat of it!’

mattsun clapped him in the back making him gulp

you werent sobbing but you were definitely crying, tear tracks quickly being wetted by the numerous amount of tears that fell

kunimi scrambled to his knees and folded himself, forehead resting on the floor by his hands

‘I APOLOGIZE! PLEASE DONT KILL ME! I APOLOGIZE! PLEASE FIND MERCY IN YOURSELF AND FORGIVE ME, Y/N-SAMA!’

it was certainly a sight to see

normally calm and collected and chill and relaxed hippie kunimi begging to be forgiven

oikawa stepped forward but you quickly felt the change of your mood, feeling bad for your boy and scrambling to pull him back up

‘oh kunimi-kun! dont kneel like that! the floor is too hard and might give you knee pain!’

it was like whiplash

iwa stepped in the gym and saw the team’s confused and bewildered expressions and saw you, kunimi, and oikawa and he shook his head

this aint even half of bad as he has seen

oikawa gently took you away from kunimi and held you to him instead, giving you a smile, to which you returned, and looked at kunimi, a deadly glint in his eye

‘what happened, y/n-chan?’

the tone of his voice sent a chill to run down everyone’s spines and even iwa, the boy who’s seen this a handful of times, shivered and nervously watched oikawa, ready to jump in

but you just blinked, completely unaware of the change of atmosphere

‘oh, um, i overreacted. i was eating too much food today and mustve annoyed him or something’

you sheepishly mumbled but oikawa was having none of it

‘no, its fine. youre literally bleeding out as we speak! dont feel the need to validate yourself!’

he lightly scolded while you hung your head low and continued to apologize but he gently bonked your head before scolding you again

the team definitely knew now that you were in that,,,, time and they definitely knew now, especially kunimi, that even if youve seen oikawa mad, youd think that the devil was more merciful than him when it relates to the topic of you

a/n: i swear to GGGOOOOODDDDDD im an oikawa whore who cant seem to stop writing for him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[maxthommusic]

DDLC SPOILER POST

OKAY. WARNING. Doki Doki LITERATURE CLUB SPOILER POST AHEAD. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU'VE PLAYED DDLC AND PROBABLY MOST OF DDLC PLUS! TOO.

YOUVE BEEN WARNED.

IM GONNA START TALKING.

OKAY?

OKAY>

OKAY<

OKAY...

I can't get Doki Doki Literature Club out of my head. I've tried writing a post here about it several times, always walking away from it, because it always kind of turns into a review of sorts; or if not a review, I start going down the rabbit hole of what it all means and my posts read like the strings of yarn stretching across a conspiracy board, constantly stretching back and forth, back and forth. But therein lies the exact beauty of DDLC. It's deep inside my head. I can't drop its tethers; instead I carry it with me day in and day out, playing the music in my head, thinking about the characters and how they fit into the greater narrative. DDLC is, quite frankly, just one of the greatest games I've ever had the pleasure of enjoying, and I simply want to gush about it.

What's incredibly unique about DDLC is that it grabs hold of a theme and sticks with it through all of its many tendrils. While there are plenty of layers to this very thematically complex experience, I feel that we always come back to the overarching concept of "selfishness."

Sayori first decides to hang herself because we either deny her love or force our love upon her. Yuri commits suicide because she cannot help but be madly in love with you, going insane due to the greed that she has to own you. Natsuki has a complete meltdown and snaps in two because she needs your attention; she fatally needs you to play with her. Then Monika is completely motivated by selfish desires too -- she's tired of being overlooked by you, the main character. She wants all your adoration and decides it would be better to remove everyone from the game than try and deal with her obsessive compulsion. But probably the most intense application of "selfishness" is the one is imposed on the player. Purely by starting a "New Game" you are subjecting these girls to a violent future because if the Plus! content is any true indication, nothing bad will happen if YOU don't selfishly play another round. By breaking the fourth wall, the game becomes self-aware in many, many ways and part of the narrative IS your contributions to the game. Read the e-mails among staff, check the unlockable artwork and their captions, do the Side Stories -- EVERYTHING is connected. The entire presentation IS the story; your involvement, included. And if you check every corner of the DDLC universe, you'll find so many stories and realities tucked away that I can't remember the last time I encountered such a rich, carefully planned, thoughtful narrative.

Part of what you uncover is the potential truth that everything is probably okay as long as you don't get involved. It's only when you start a New Game and insert yourself into the story that the sentient Monika starts going off the rails with her jealousy. Yes, it does seem apparent that all the girls are struggling with something in their personal lives; but aren't we all? It's a beautiful story about finding something to ease that pain, to cope with it. No one is there to try and change the other person, they're there to support them. And in that way, DDLC is really lovely and endearing. What I can't figure out, though, is who is the real villain. Is it you, MC? Is it something in the code related to whomever becomes Club President? Is it, plainly, Just Monika?

From here I'll have to keep my tinfoil hat from slowly materializing... and it's about here where I decide to delete a post after I've rambled too long... but the lingering point I'm trying to make is that DDLC is an entire universe filled with heartwarming stories, made all the more poignant due to the horrible future that lies in wait for everyone if you decide to play. By breaking that fourth wall, Team Salvato makes you a participant, thereby turning Sayori, Natsuki, Yuri and Monika not just into NPCs but friends. Team Salvato asks the ultimate question: what is the place of fiction in our lives? How can fiction be powerful and what's its purpose? Like the Club, maybe we're all just looking for a place to feel comfortable, accepted. We seek out new stories so we can experience the lives of others and maybe gain some perspective about our own existence. By playing DDLC, Team Salvato tries to present you not only with modern existentialist questions, but also offers a salve for whatever may ail you. Using intensely graphic horror mechanisms to convey that message is just part of the grisly fun.

[malumsmermaid]

Sweet Dream or a Beautiful Nightmare?

Happy Halloween everyone! This is the halloween event fic for the collab discord!

I chose the prompt of “Person A sells their soul to Person B, a crossroads demon,” for Mashton.

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Demon Michael x Ashton

Description: So I made this an alternate timeline. 5SOS is still 5SOS, but, they don’t really take off until after Ashton is already 18, and Ashton joins the band much earlier than Michael does, for the sake of the prompt and my plans.

Warnings: Demons, mentions of death

Event Masterlist        My Masterlist       Buy Me a Ko-Fi

Ashton took a deep breath, giving the book and bag of supplies sitting in his passenger seat an anxious glance. He’d bought the spell book from a local used bookstore months ago, assuring his two friends that it was just as a joke. This week however, curiosity and desperation took over, leading him to dig through his closet until he found the note-laden spell book, still in the bag it was placed in the day it was purchased. 

He steeled himself, grabbing the book and bag and turning off his car, climbing out and taking sure steps towards the intersection of the streets. He grabbed chalk from the plastic bag, trying not to look too long at the other ingredients for the summoning. He set the book next to him on the ground, shivering as it fell open to the exact page he needed. “Okay Ash,” he breathed, “get yourself together and let’s do it, for the boys. Six guitarists in six months is fucking ridiculous.” 

He dug in the cloth bag for the box of chalk, taking a piece out and walking to the center of the intersection. He kneeled on the pavement, focusing on the crossroads he was at mentally as he drew out the symbol illustrated in the spell book. He knew that Luke, Calum and himself had a great fit for their band, the only thing they were lacking in their balance was the right guitarist. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find another guitarist soon, and if this seventh guitarist wasn’t the missing piece they’d been searching for, the two younger boys may lose hope and give up. He maintained focus on his goal as he meticulously followed the instructions laid out in the book.

Everything completed he took a step back, eyes closed as he focused on what he needed. When he opened his eyes again, there was a cloaked figure in front of him, orange glowing eyes showing from beneath a hood. Ashton stood his ground, even with the lit candles flickering out, staring the orange eyes down as he waited for the crossroads demon to speak. Ashton thought he could make out a smirk on the demon’s lips as he sized up the eighteen year old in front of him.

“Was this just some dare from your friends or do you actually need me for something, kid?” The demon’s voice was low, almost bored.

Ashton squared his shoulders, standing up straighter and sticking his chin out, pushing down even the slightest bit of fear. “I truly believe my band has a good chance of making it in our field, we just are failing desperately at finding the right guitarist.”

The demon blinked, “You’re willing to sell your soul to a demon...for a guitarist. Not the success of the band, just the guitarist.”

Ashton nodded, sighing, “We’ve been through six guitarists in as many months. I’m here for the perfect guitarist for our band. The success will follow from that.”

“Are you sure about that?” the demon asked, fingers fiddling with the large sleeves of the cloak. “This is really what you want to sell your soul for, no little extra guarantee that it will actually work out on top of this guitarist?”

Ashton looked at the ground, silent for a moment, before looking up into the glowing eyes through his fringe, “It really is. I think my bandmates may give up if this next guitarist doesn’t work out, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, if it had been one of their ideas, I would’ve made sure I was the one to do it. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you do?” The demon retorted, though his voice took on a concerned note.

Ashton paused, eyebrows pulling together before shaking his head. He reached his hand across the sigil he’d drawn in the road, “Do we have a deal?”

The demon took in Ashton’s unwavering position, his refusal to back down, convinced that this was the measure he had to take for his friends. “Deal.” The demon responded, grasping Ashton’s hand in his own. “Guitarist lucky number seven will be at your next rehearsal,” he stated before turning around and getting ready to disappear back into the darkness, “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.” He muttered to himself.

Ashton gathered what remained of his ingredients, taking them to the car and grabbing his thermos full of water, rinsing the chalk off of the roadway before finally getting back in his car and going home.

~~~~~

Two days later Ashton was setting up his drum kit in Luke’s house. He was anxiously tightening a wing nut to a cymbal when the doorbell rang. Luke frowned, putting his guitar down and going to answer the door. Ashton could hear Luke talking to someone and hummed, continuing his set up. Soon Luke returned, another boy following behind him. “This is Michael,” the blonde started, getting both Ashton and Calum’s attention. “He told me that he heard from a friend that we were looking for another guitarist?”

Luke’s blue eyes were questioning, wondering if his other two bandmates had spoken to anyone about the recent opening. Calum looked just as confused as Luke and Ashton whirred through some excuse he could make up. “I uh, may have mentioned it to one of the people at the barbecue I went to after practice the other night. Didn’t think they’d actually know someone looking for a band though, guess I was wrong.”

Luke simply shrugged and nodded, turning back to Michael, still hanging behind him. Ashton caught the guitarist’s eye and...did he just wink at him? No, he had to have imagined it. Michael’s brown hair fell in his face and he crouched on the floor, pulling his guitar out of the case and tuning it, knowing that the band would need to hear him play before anything was decided.

Ashton finished setting up his kit and took a seat in front of the Hemmings’ Christmas tree. Calum was on one side of him, fidgeting with the shoulders of his tank top, Luke on the other looking at Michael. He’d pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder, guitar hanging on his back as he fidgeted with the strands of his hair before stepping up to Calum’s keyboard. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves before he started playing the opening notes to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. He swung his guitar around and began to play. He leaned into the microphone and began singing the lyrics as well and Ashton thought he caught another furtive glance and a smirk from him. 

Luke got to his feet halfway through the song, stopping Michael. “Dude, if you can get along with the three of us as well as you can play guitar, I’d say you’re in. What do you guys think?”

Calum spoke up from his spot, “Yeah, hang out with us some after practice today and same at the next and if we’re all getting along, I’d say it’s going to work out.”

Ashton simply nodded his agreement with the other two boys and got to his feet, going to settle behind his drum set, ready to start practice. Michael was beaming as he moved to the other side of the living room stage, looking at the tabs Luke was showing him for one of the original songs that he wanted to work on today.

~~~~~~~

Michael blended into the group with ease, Ashton and Calum welcoming him in before the first rehearsal with the new guitarist was even over. Ashton brushed off his apprehension about the looks that Michael had been giving him, he was a nice guy and there was no way he could know about the deal the drummer had made. By his third rehearsal, Michael had come up with a name for the group, the other three boys having been struggling with that for a long time, especially with the more pressing issue of keeping a guitarist on the forefront of their minds. 

Soon, 5 Seconds of Summer were posting more videos to Luke’s youtube channel and playing more local shows. With Michael fitting in so well with the group they were now working harder than ever before. After a few months, they finally got a call from a label. They worked out the details with their parents and began touring around the country, and then across the world. 

The years went on and the band’s success continued to grow, multiple albums debuting at number 1 and playing larger and larger venues. During one tour Ashton dyed his hair black, posting a picture in front of a window, captioning it ���feeling like a demon again.” Michael was in another room, and he let out a low chuckle when he read the caption, double tapping the photo and carrying on.

It was coming up on ten years since Michael joined the band, ten years since Ashton made a deal with the crossroads demon. He wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate his 28th birthday when it came along, knowing in five months, he would no longer be himself, if he was even still here. They finished recording their sixth album and Ashton went back to Australia for a month, spending time with his family. When he got back to LA in mid-September he began pulling away from his friends, only responding to band related texts immediately, sometimes taking three days to reply to even Calum when he tried to check in. He tried to say that he was working on a second solo album during the lull before they had to start promoting the new record, but he knew that would only hold them off for so long.

By October Ashton’s nightmares of the orange-eyed demon he’d been having from time to time since they met were now nightly. The first week of November he just gave up on sleeping entirely, throat raw from waking up screaming as the cloaked demon dragged him out of bed and down through his bedroom floor into darkness. 

At the end of the week without sleep, Ashton once again found himself spending the whole day sitting on his couch, staring intently at a blank page of his journal. The room grew dark around him as the sun sank in the sky. The last few golden rays travelled through the windows when he recognized the sound of Michael knocking on his door. Before he could get up or even respond to the sound, the door opened, Michael walking straight in. Ashton wearily raised his head, looking at his friend standing in the doorway to the living room. “You look soulless.” Michael said, “Trust me, I would know.”

Ashton shook his head, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his head on his hands. “What do you need Mike?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding us, pushing everyone away.”

Ashton let out a dark chuckle. “Sure. Take a guess.” He muttered, keeping his head down.

Michael stepped further into the room, boot stomping on the hardwood. “Ashton. Look at me.”

There was something different to Michael’s voice, and Ashton found himself unable to disobey. He sat up, turning to look at the blonde and gasped. The same glowing orange eyes that had been haunting his nightmares were staring straight at him, coming from Michael’s face. Ashton scrambled backwards until his back was against the far arm of the sofa, the guitar that had been next to him dropping to the floor. Michael frowned, stepping forward, picking up the instrument from the ground, checking it and carefully beginning to tune it again while Ashton searched for words. 

“Y-you!” He choked out, “Get out of Michael!”

The demon sighed, eyes fading back to green as he fiddled with the guitar. He snapped his fingers, turning on some lamps. “Ashton,” he said, voice soft, “I’ve been Michael the whole time, from before you came forth to make the deal to now.”

Ashton shook his head, “So I wasn’t being paranoid about the looks you were giving me when you tried out for the band.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “I was sort of hoping you’d notice much sooner. I was just drawn in by your confidence that all you needed was a guitarist. And you were right.”

Ashton was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, so Michael stayed where he was, tenderly cradling Ashton’s guitar, letting him set his boundaries, letting him figure out how he felt. Finally, Ashton shifted, actually looking at Michael, no longer pinning himself to the end of the couch. When he spoke, his voice was raw, “It’s just...god, Michael. I’ve trusted you with things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve been vulnerable with you...I--I’m in fucking love with you.” Ashton’s scoff turned into a disbelieving laugh. “I would fall in love with a demon, makes so much more sense now.”

“Hey now,” Michael said, voice soft as he moved to sit next to Ashton, hand resting on the drummer’s thigh. Ashton didn’t pull away and Michael carried on, “I gave up my original job out of curiosity after we met. The past ten years I’ve spent with you...and the band...I’ve been closer to my old mortal life, old feelings, than I have been in centuries.”

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked, hazel eyes meeting green.

“I mean, I wasn’t always a crossroads demon, if that’s what you’re asking. In my old life I was a travelling minstrel, and one day, I performed the same ceremony you did, summoned the demon who would be my master in order to make a deal.”

Ashton tilted his head, understanding crashing over him and he nodded, curls bouncing. “Did you make the deal you expected me to make? Asking for success and fame?”

Michael chuckled, “No, Ashton, I assumed that’s where you were going because I’ve been a crossroads demon for four hundred years. The number of times I’ve heard that request in the past fifty years alone...it’s not a hard assumption to make.” 

Ashton nodded, quietly waiting to hear Michael’s story. Michael hummed, leaning back into the couch as he began. “It was a festival, celebrating the arrival of spring. We were playing in the market square and a boy caught my eye. I later learned he was the son of the lord and lady of that region and doubted I had much chance. But I had to have him. So, that night, I made a deal and within the next fortnight, I was a regular in his bed. 

His parents knew nothing of the matter and within two years he was married to the daughter of some duchess, but we had an understanding with her. She had little interest in lying with her husband anyway, her heart laid with one of the maids who helped her dress.

Much too soon my time came and I became a demon. I stopped aging, learned my trade, and began my work. I still spent nights with my beloved, but he continued aging, and soon, at least to me, it became clear that he couldn’t keep up with me anymore. I held his hand as he crossed over. He and his wife never had children, even for the sake of appearances, and so their line ended with their deaths. He chose to be reborn, I check in on him once every century, but I always miss when he would be my apparent age. The two times that I caught him in his later years, his soul recognized me for who I was and we had long talks when I came by, but nothing more.”

Ashton stared, nodding as he listened to Michael’s century’s old tale, of who he had been before Ashton was even a thought. “H-have you found him in this century?” He voiced.

Michael chuckled, “Yes, I have. As much as you remind me of him, you aren’t him. No, he’s the man you’ve known as my dad the past few years. Hate that I had to put that sort of spell on him, but I needed a cover. But, like I said, my timing has been off, probably the curse of being a demon, can’t keep up with the man I loved.”

Ashton nodded slowly. “But you know why I can’t tell anyone why I’ve been pulling away. Luke and Calum wouldn’t understand. I...I don’t want to hurt them.”

Michael hummed, pulling Ashton to rest on his chest. “I know, but I have a plan. I’ll get us both out of this. But first you need to get some sleep.”

Ashton wanted to protest, to explain his nightmares, but the warmth of Michael’s body and the song beginning to fill his ears were making his limbs heavy, eyelids drooping.

~~~~~~

Ashton awoke in his dark room, feeling more rested than he had in months. He was dimly aware of the other body in his bed, but opted to continue to lay still, see if sleep would claim him again, unsure how long he had been out. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michael murmured, shifting to face Ashton.

Ashton didn’t jump, he wasn’t as foggy as he would normally expect upon waking up. He still remembered his conversation with Michael before he’d fallen asleep, and he still felt comforted by Michael’s presence, despite now knowing the truth. “How long was I out?” He hummed, turning to look at Michael’s silhouette.

Michael shifted, picking up his phone to check the time. “So it was like almost 7pm when you fell asleep the other night, then all of yesterday, I cleaned up the house by the way, and now it’s 5am the next day. Thought you were gonna wake up a few times during the day, but you just rolled over after mumbling something.”

Ashton blinked as he tried to take that in. He didn’t think that he’d ever slept that long, even at his most jet-lagged or exhausted following a long tour. “Makes sense, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any sleep, since I’ve slept without any nightmares.”

Michael nodded, tentatively reaching out. Ashton moved closer, letting Michael place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Looked up tickets, got us a flight home tomorrow afternoon, figured you’d be awake by then. Do you wanna get Luke and Calum together for lunch or dinner today and just have a boy’s night, have a heart to heart?”

“But we can’t really tell them all of it, can we?”

“Up to you, I don’t mind them knowing, my plan includes shrugging off my old job, getting rid of these guys.”

Even knowing the truth, the sight of Michael’s glowing orange eyes still made Ashton flinch. “Let’s just plan getting together today, and decide what we’re going to tell them when we get there. I’m going to go do some yoga, stretch out after being in bed so long.” Ashton got out of bed after Michael nodded, stretching out his back as he walked around the bed. “How about dinner? Then we can come back here and talk more.”

Michael agreed, “I’ll send them a text later to get everything planned, doubt they’d appreciate a 5am text.”

~~~~~~

Ashton ended up deciding against telling Luke and Calum the full story, since it sounded like Michael was planning on no longer being a demon by the end of the week, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to explain how Michael had really become part of the band, by Ashton making a deal with the demon. They’d been nothing but supportive, reminding him that they’re always there if he needs to talk. Michael was sitting next to him, occasionally giving him gentle touches and reassuring looks as he explained some of what he’d been going through. 

Ashton slept the whole flight back to Australia the next day, only waking during a spot of turbulence to find Michael had rested his head on Ashton’s shoulder, also asleep. Once they’d landed, Michael rented a car and they went to get dinner before checking into the hotel. “Let’s get some rest,” Michael said after he set his bag down, taking a seat on the bed. “Then tomorrow night we’ll go back to where we first met and get this reversed, neither of us will have anything to worry about anymore.”

Ashton nodded, and both men took turns getting ready for bed. There were two beds in the room, but Ashton looked over at Michael anxiously. “Can I sleep next to you? I...I don’t want to be alone in a bed again.”

Michael nodded and Ashton flipped off the lamp by the bed he’d originally claimed, crawling in next to Michael. He moved close to him, scared to be touching him, still not entirely sure where they stood. Michael however, closed the distance after he turned off the lamp, pressing his body closer and throwing an arm over Ashton’s shoulder.

The pair slept soundly through the night, spending the day laying low, having lunch and dinner out at quieter local cafes. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, full moon rising higher in the sky, Michael drove out to the crossroads where Ashton had summoned him just a month shy of ten years ago. He pulled over, reaching into the backseat for the bag he’d brought with him. Ashton followed him to the center of the intersection, watching as Michael began the summoning ceremony Ashton had followed, but in reverse order. The asphalt swallowed up the ingredients as Michael threw them down, the demon chanting in an ancient language as he circled the ground. He traced glowing orange runes into the road. 

Once there was a glowing circle surrounding the runes, Michael stepped back, arms open wide as he continued chanting, Ashton hesitantly stepping forward to stand at his side. Michael fell silent as before them appeared a figure far more terrifying than anything Ashton’s nightmares had conjured. Ashton was petrified, rooted to the spot. Michael gave him a glance before looking back at the entity before them. “Hey Cain, been a minute. Could you do human form, for the sake of my best friend here?”

The figure began to shrink, swirling shadows of dark fog turning to flesh and animal skin clothing, terrifying features morphing to human. “Cain?” Ashton squeaked, “Like Cain and Abel, Cain? Like…”

Michael simply nodded, “Told him about 150 years ago that he owed me a massive favor, now I’m cashing in.”

Cain snorted, now fully human, leaning on a wooden club. “I have existed for millenia, young minstrel, that may as well have been yesterday.”

Michael simply rolled his eyes, carrying on. “Look, you owe me big time and that’s what matters. Ash owes me his soul and his day is coming up, but I don’t want it anymore. I’ve spent the last ten years with Ashton and our bandmates and I’ve been more in touch with my mortal side than I’ve been since my beloved died the first time. After watching him die that first time, and then several times after that, I’m done. I have a new love and I can’t go through that again, watch him age and die. And none of that redemption myth stuff that goes around. I want to be mortal, I want to grow old for the first time in my entire existence, and I want to do that with Ashton.”

Ashton blinked, staring at Michael before he turned to look at Cain, who was deep in thought over Michael’s request. “That definitely is well within your right to request, and fills my debt to you without leaving you in debt to me...well thought out, minstrel.”

Michael’s face remained neutral and Cain held his hands out on either side of him. In his right hand, a scroll with what Ashton recognized as his signature at the bottom, in his left, a glowing ball of light. Cain released the ball of light, which began to float toward Michael as the scroll tore in two and burst into flame. “The deal is complete.” Cain stated, disappearing into shadow as the ball of light reached Michael, floating into his chest.

As soon as the light touched Michael’s chest, he collapsed onto the pavement, Ashton gasping and rushing to his side. Shadows poured from Michael’s eyes, nose, mouth and ears, sinking into the ground. Ashton crouched on the road, holding Michael’s head in his lap as the last of the shadows trickled out and faded away. The blonde’s eyelids slowly fluttered, finally blinking open fully. Ashton stared down at him, an extra glimmer of life showing in Michael’s green eyes that Ashton didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “Ash,” Michael croaked, trying to push himself up, but Ashton firmly pushed his shoulders back down.

“You just got blasted back by that bright thing, you need to chill for a moment.” He stated, hands staying on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael remained still, smiling up at Ashton. “It was my soul, my original soul, the one I signed over,” Michael whispered, “I can feel it.” He paused, then his eyes widened, “Do I look fucking ancient now?” He gasped.

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head, “No, you look like Michael, the same Michael I’ve known for the past ten years, just a little more soul behind your eyes.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the joke before looking up at the stars. “I meant it, when I said I wanted to grow old with you.”

“I know. I do too, I’m glad we have that option now.”

Michael smiled and they sat there quietly until Ashton felt that Michael had recovered, finally getting to their feet and driving back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the week in Australia, Cain’s deal hadn’t undone Michael’s spell on his parents, and both he and Ashton were glad of that, visiting with both their families while they were there. 

Once they were back in LA, Michael began moving his things into Ashton’s house. They had dinner with Luke and Calum, and the other two men could tell that something had changed between their friends, but didn’t push it. They knew that they’d be told when Michael and Ashton were ready.

Months later, Michael and Ashton were in their garden, sitting around the fire pit. They’d told Calum and Luke about their relationship at New Years, to which Luke yelled “Finally!” They’d all laughed and hugged before staring into the sky as fireworks exploded across the city, well ahead of midnight. 

Tonight was the last night of peace before they were set to go back into the studio. Ashton cuddled closer to Michael on the bench, lazily poking at the burning logs with the hook. “Y’know,” he whispered, “I feel like, if we were both human the whole time we’ve known each other, I’d still offer you my soul.”

Michael glanced at him, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ashton giggled, dropping the metal rod to the grass and leaning up and giving Michael a kiss.

“Like in the I’m totally in love with you way, you worry wart.” He said. “I trust you with my heart and every bit of my being. I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Michael hummed, smiling at Ashton, watching the flames dance in his hazel eyes. “You know what?” He said after a couple of minutes, “I’d give you my soul too.” Michael tore his gaze from Ashton for a moment, sticking his skewer into the flames, watching the marshmallow goo that was still stuck to the metal blacken and drip into the fire. “Feels a lot better this way.” He observed, “With my first love I signed over my soul to get it, but to you, I’d give it freely.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Ashton whispered.

Michael nodded, dipping his head for another kiss. “I love you Ashton Irwin.”

“And I you, Michael Clifford.”

Tag List: @irwinkitten @calpops @goth5sos @wildflowergrae @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @notinthesameguey @superbloomirwin @sexgodashton @castaway-cashton @treatallwithkindness @theyorthemrecords @another-lonely-heart @ghostofmashton @opheliaaurora23 @loxerofmine @youngblood199456 @megz1985 @strawberriesonsummer

Slash Tag List: @tigerteeff

Want to be added?

[artificialqueens]

End of the Day (Crystal x Gigi) - Ashley

A/N: The plan was simple. All Crystal had to do was pretend to be her twin for one week: sit silently in seminars, only leave her room for her basic necessities and stick closely to the set of rules she was left with. Only the rule that stated she “mustn’t bother the bitch from downstairs” became a lot harder for Crystal to follow once she had laid eyes on Gigi Goode.

Hope you guys like this!! Think of it as Breakfast at Tiffany’s meets She’s the Man only at a Russell Group where there’s a stereotype around every corner. Sending infinite thank you’s to Meggie for being a fab beta. p.s thanks so much for all the lovely feedback for Everything Has Changed (I could have cried reading some of it)…xoxo Ashley.

“No way.” Crystal dropped the pencil she toyed with, a laugh squeaking out of her throat at her sister’s audacity.

“It’s only a week,” she pleaded over the phone, the voice that had convinced Crystal to do stupid things since they were children making its reappearance.

“You seriously want me to pretend to be you just so you can jet off to Majorca to see that creep?” 

“Yes!” Elle ignored Crystal’s clear disdain. “That is exactly what I want. We used to do it all the time in school.”

“You’re crazy, actually insane.”

Crystal was used to her sister’s wild antics, but this plot may have been a step too far.

“But you love me.”

“I hate you.”

“It’s not like you have any plans.” Elle held no hesitation in poking the bear - the boundaries between the two twins almost non-existent.

“I have Depop orders actually,” Crystal snapped back, a tiny part of resentment that her sister was attending one of the best universities in the country whilst she was sitting at home making jewellery rising inside of her body but not quite breaking the surface.

“£200.”

Crystal stopped in her tracks - now she was listening.

“It won’t work anyway, people will notice!”

“They won’t. I don’t speak to anyone in my college anyway and my course friends won’t say anything, just stay in bed all day once you’ve been to my seminars. I’ll even give you my Disney+ password.”

A hint of worry rose in Crystal’s mind; she wondered how her more outgoing other half had managed to go to university and not make friends in her accommodation. Where Crystal was shy and nervous throughout the entirety of her education, Elle had never been afraid to put herself out there, always surrounded by one group of pretty girls or another. “So what am I supposed to do in these seminars then? It’s not like I have an extensive knowledge of anthropology is it?”

“All you have to do is sign in and sit there pretending to type - they don’t even pick on you I swear. And it’s the last week before we break up so everyone will be really chill.”

“£300,” Crystal responded, the idea of escaping the four walls of her bedroom whilst making three months of her usual income beginning to tempt her, cursing internally at how easily convinced she was.

“I can’t give you £300.” Crystal could hear that her sister was talking through a grin despite not being able to see her face, the grin that meant she’d won.

“Well, you can’t go to Majorca then.”

“Three hundred pounds it is,” Elle agreed. “But you better get me a decent Christmas present.”

“Deal,” Crystal responded, knowing she had already purchased her sister’s gift two months prior. “Now, tell me absolutely everything I need to know about collegiate life.”

“It’s a good job. I knew you’d say yes and already planned this part out.” Elle beamed, proud at her ability to convince her timid younger-by-ten-minutes sister to do almost anything.

***

If secondary school was supposed to be a jungle of cliques, then Elle’s college may as well have been the Amazon rainforest.

Walking through the incredibly hard to find dining hall for breakfast, Crystal could make out almost every university stereotype she could think of, each confined to their own special hold.

From the druggies to the athletes, to the Oxbridge rejects, to the girls who borrowed daddy’s credit card - they were all there and thriving. A small part of Crystal wanted to go and sit with who she decided were the artsy girls despite knowing her sister wouldn’t be caught dead doing so.

Trying not to draw attention to herself, she kept her head down as she made it to the front of the queue, Elle’s clear step-by-step of how she approached meals playing through her head on repeat, the weeks of planning for this moment all coming into play.

Only at that moment, she panicked, the child’s paint by numbers that were her instructions started to turn into a set of IKEA diagrams without captions in her brain. Wishing she’d stuck to eating a pot noodle in her sister’s room, Crystal’s body froze in a state of fear after dolloping a ladle of baked beans onto her toast. A tonne (or maybe ten tonnes) of bricks smacked her right between the eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be able to pull this off. The lack of self-confidence she always battled with ran thick through her veins, her thoughts turning to ways she could go home and return to the comfort of her hometown, willing to sacrifice her sister’s already flagged attendance and the three hundred pounds to be watching Bake Off with her mam in the kitchen.

It almost happened in slow motion, time losing its speed as the boy behind her walked into Crystal’s back, propelling her tray forward onto an unsuspecting blonde. An unsuspecting blonde who seemed the opposite of dumb.

“What the fuck?” She snapped her head around to Crystal, thick brows furrowed and pink lips pursed.

“I’m sorr-” Crystal started, beating herself up internally at how she had managed to do the exact opposite of laying low despite being only one night into her weeklong mission.

“This won’t come out!” The girl started turning her neck frantically to the back of her shirt, the white satin stained bright orange.

Her mouth opening but no words coming out, Crystal didn’t have a chance to apologise again before the girl had a swarm of minions dabbing her back with tissues.

“It’ll be okay, G.” One of them took her hand.  Crystal wanted to burst out in tears like she usually did at the smallest sign of conflict, pinching the skin on the back of her hand and looking at the white ceiling lights to stop herself.

“So long as people look where they’re going.” The girl, G, cast a terrifying yet beautiful scowl in Crystal’s direction before sauntering away.

So much for laying low, she sighed before leaving the queue herself, her body tingling as if she’d hit her funny bone over a dozen times. The girl’s stare still imprinted in the back of her eyes.

Having narrowly avoided a panic attack, Crystal thought hard about her old coping mechanisms and tried her best to remain positive as she did after these situations, sitting down at an empty table and giving herself a pat on the back that she had at least passed as Elle without any doubts, ready to take the rest of her day by storm (also known as sitting in silence and occasionally nodding her head as a bunch of middle ages men discuss human evolution and diversity).

***

Having achieved three B grades by the end of sixth form and the award for ‘most creative’ in their final assembly, Crystal always thought of herself as somewhat intelligent and capable of living in the real world despite her decision not to go to university like her sister.

Yet there she stood, her face in a scowl and her fist in a ball, completely and utterly perplexed by the laundry system.

After sleeping in her sister’s dirty sheets the night before, she had arrived back to the college with hopes of resting her head on a pillow that wasn’t mascara stained and washing her face with a flannel sans toothpaste blobs (which was basic hygiene in Crystal’s opinion, but she hadn’t expected anything more from her twin). Only those dreams were temporarily dashed as she spent an entire thirty minutes pressing buttons and swiping the card Elle had left her manically against an aged machine. 

Thirty-six internet searches and two desperate phone calls to her sister later, Crystal was beaming at the sheets swirling around, not a care in the world at how much of a psychopath she would look to anyone entering the room, the stress she had previously faced in getting the machine to work inducing her to stay and wait for the clothes to wash instead of leaving them like normal practice. 

Elle had seemed happy on the phone, gushing to Crystal about how tanned she’d gotten in such a short space of time and how delicious all the food was - Crystal shutting her down quickly by reminding her that such a tan would only alert their mother to the fact she’d spent a week abroad visiting the sleazy holiday rep she’d fallen in love with that summer rather than in the brown-bricked, straight from a horror movie, sixties’ style complex that Crystal was currently residing in.

Crystal made a mental note to text her mam later and tell her how much she was enjoying her time “visiting her sister” - knowing fine well that talking to her on the phone would probably cause her to crumble and confess their scheme.

She had always been a family orientated person, always choosing a night in the house watching movies over playing out with friends, crying buckets the day her sister moved out and started a new chapter of her life without her. It was clear her mother wanted her to get out into the world, knowing she was capable of more than selling jewellery online, but unlike her sister, Crystal wasn’t quite ready to leave her home yet, needing that extra push to get her feet moving that just hadn’t come her way yet.

She figured that spending a week pretending to be her sister may actually be a good start.

Lost away with her head in the clouds like usual, Crystal was snapped back to surface level as her phone chimed to signal the end of the cycle, only to find herself even more frustrated when she realised that no dryers were free.

Today really hadn’t been her day. 

She personally blamed the lack of lucky necklace around her neck (Elle telling her specifically during their planning stages that she would never wear such a monstrosity and Crystal following suit despite knowing it was only entrenched in their rules because her sister thought it was ugly). Her secret superstitious side kicking in, she thanked herself for bringing some of her jewellery making gadgets with her, figuring she’d have to make her own version of it, for now, it wasn’t as if she had any better way to spend her evening.

Seeing a dryer with two minutes left until it timed out, Crystal figured she’d simply wait until it had been emptied to use it, allowing her brain to return back to Pinterest for a short period of time.

But ten minutes passed and no one came to empty the machine.

She glanced at the other piles of clothes that lay on top of the machines, figuring it was normal to remove other people’s when none were free, the thought of her sheets staying wet and crinkled making her feel uneasy.

Opening the dryer, she was hit immediately by a waft of lavender, reassuring herself that it was okay to move the clothes and feeling almost proud of herself for making a leap the old Crystal would have ran from in fear of awkwardness. 

Being her most careful, she picked the clothes one by one and started to fold them, her brain subconsciously admiring the mystery tartan-wearer’s sense of fashion and wishing she had the confidence to wear some of the outfits. That was when her hands met a satin blouse, a familiar satin blouse with an orange tinge on its white back.

Before she had time to process that the clothes she was moving belonged to the pretty girl from breakfast, Crystal’s train of thought was interrupted by the devil herself.

“Admiring your handiwork?” She strutted over and snatched the shirt back from Crystal’s hands.

Crystal couldn’t quite place her accent but she knew it was Southern. Her overactive imagination hearing the girl whisper dirty thoughts to her in that posh voice without being able to stop herself.

Oh, fuck.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal turned to her, not even attempting to act like anything other than the soft wimp she was inside. “I didn’t mean to.”

Crystal looked into the girl’s eyes, almost seeing her melt a little before her.

She felt the tension between them, dense and heavy in the air.

“It’s fine,” the blonde responded, losing the passive-aggressive tone she’d carried beforehand but still not sounding entirely sincere as she began to throw her clothes into her hamper. 

Crystal couldn’t help but gawk a little as she began to strut away, her body swishing like a model’s as she made her way out of the room, pausing for a second at the door.

“Can you do me a favour, though?” the girl called back to Crystal.

‘I think I’d give both of my kidneys to you’ Crystal thought. Only it instead came out as an awkwardly stuttered, “Erm, sure.”

“Turn your music down, please.” She shot a sarcastic smile in Crystal’s direction. Crystal felt it burrow straight through her chest cavity and into her fast-beating heart. “I know that anthropology may be a bit simpler than most degrees, but some of us really struggle to work when all they can hear is your shit music directly above them.”

Her mouth dropping open to catch flies as the girl left the room for good, a pang of realisation hit Crystal.

Opening her phone and flicking through the dramatic guide to her sister’s university life that was now saved at the top of her notes, she found what she’d been looking for:

“12. DO NOT, under any circumstances, bother the bitch downstairs.”

Too late, Crystal thought to herself, wondering how many more of her sister’s rules she would have broken by the end of the week.

***

Crystal would be lying if she said she hadn’t been watching out for the blonde that week, whose name she had figured out (after an intensive Facebook stalking session) to be Gigi. 

Yes, she was lying low, not leaving Elle’s room other than for seminars and to eat - but that didn’t stop her from taking stolen glances at the girl across the dining hall or walking up that second flight of stairs to the room just a fraction slower than she did the first flight.

Three days at university and she’d somehow turned back into a fourteen-year-old girl fantasising about the most popular girl in the class.

Except this time, the popular girl didn’t even know her real name.

She felt like Tracy from Hairspray - one look and she could hear the wedding bells playing in the back of her head. 

But at the same time, Crystal knew what was at stake - leaving their interactions to intense eye contact and mumbled “excuse mes,” knowing that even speaking to Gigi again could blow her entire cover.

Yet, she somehow managed to do exactly that on Wednesday night. Or, technically, the early hours of Thursday morning.

At first, Crystal tried to ignore the argument below her, drowning out their voices with her headphones (partly because she felt like she was intruding and partly because listening to people screaming at each other, like a lot of things, made her cry). However, as the war below was still awaiting a cease-fire, snippets of conversation slid their way into the room.

“Why do you have to do this on every night out?”

“I just want what’s best for you.”

“You don’t know what’s best for me.”

She could hear the pain in Gigi’s voice heighten right before her door slammed, Crystal wincing in bed at the sound.

Expecting to hear male footsteps stomp away, Crystal was surprised to instead hear lighter ones, making their way up the stairs and past her landing, a muffled sob travelling through her door.

Looking out of the window, she squinted in the dark until she saw the red glow of a cigarette from their fire escape, the hum of an unfamiliar tune making its way through the thin walls.

She knew it was a risk, but it was one that Crystal couldn’t help but take when she thought of the beautiful girl from the laundry room freezing in the cold.

Grabbing her sister’s spare dressing gown, she made her way onto the landing, taking a deep breath before going out onto the fire escape.

Logic and speech pushed to the back part of her mind, Crystal simply made her way over to the other girl and sat down beside her, placing the dressing gown over her slim shoulders.

Even in the dark, she could see how perfect Gigi was.

The mole on the side of her cheek.

The soft pout on her lips.

Despite the mascara smudged down her face and her eyes stinging red, Crystal thought she looked like an angel.

“Hi,” Gigi spoke to her, dropping the cigarette she smoked on the floor and pressing it out with her trainers. 

“Hi,” Crystal spoke back, unsure of what to say to the girl, blood rushing through her at a rate of knots, nervous filling her body and bursting through her head like she was some sort of human kettle.

“I guess you know what I mean about the music now.”

“Yeah.” Crystal nodded in the dark. “It’s noted.”

“I’m sorry about Karl…” Gigi trailed off, taking some time before speaking again. “He just gets like that sometimes when he’s had a drink. I know he doesn’t mean it. I guess you know that.”

Unsure of who Karl was, or why she was supposed to know that, Crystal began to feel like she was drowning. Only instead of jumping on the next lifeboat, she swam down deeper for Gigi.

A part of her was afraid, afraid she’d read the aura surrounding the other girl so wrong, afraid that Karl was her boyfriend.

“Mmhmm,” Crystal responded, maybe a bit more high pitched than she naturally would have.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend. But sometimes a part of me thinks that he just doesn’t have any idea who I really am if you get me.” 

Crystal couldn’t have understood any better at that moment.

All she wanted to do was tell her. To tell her how hard it was when everyone expected you to be the same as another person. How awful it felt when they never knew the real you, only a shell of the more outgoing sister.

Only she couldn’t, so she did the next best thing and placed her hand on the girl’s forearm, instantly getting a shock at how cold she felt.

“Do you wanna go inside? We can make hot chocolate,” she suggested, noting how Gigi’s body relaxed under her touch.

“He’s still in my room.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “I just can’t deal with him right now, it needs to be left for the morning.”

“You can stay in mine,” Crystal asked, squeezing her grip ever so slightly.

What was she doing?

This wasn’t part of the plan.

And it was certainly breaking some of the rules.

Potentially all of them combined.

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

But nothing filled her with greater relief then when Gigi finally responded: “If you don’t mind, thank you.”

***

At first, she felt awkward as she let Gigi into the room, especially considering the fact it wasn’t hers. But after two hot chocolates each she had felt the most comfortable and at peace as she had since masquerading as her sister.

She watched as Gigi’s eyes made their way around the room, a kid in a sweetie shop, gawking at the treasures around her.

“What’s that?” she spoke between sips, pointing towards Crystal’s craft box that had been haphazardly set up on her sister’s desk.

“Oh.” Crystal went to pick it up, a flutter of warmth rushing through her at the thought of someone, let alone Gigi, being interested in her jewellery. “Just some bits and bobs I make.”

“These are so cool.” Gigi held a pair of scarlet earrings up and examined them closer, her mouth opening slightly as she focused. “Like the ones you had in the other day.”

Crystal’s face turned a deeper red than the earrings, the thought of Gigi remembering what she wore sending shivers down her spine - her head telling her heart on an auto loop that no matter what she thought about Gigi, all of Gigi’s returned thoughts were instead about Elle.

“Yeah,” she choked out, nipping her skin to bring herself back to reality.

“You should sell these!” Gigi gasped as she rooted through more of Crystal’s collection. “I sell the clothes I make on Depop, we’d make a great team.”

Crystal didn’t get a chance to respond. She was too busy picking the pieces of her exploding heart from the carpet and trying to put it back together again.

“In fact.” Gigi grabbed her phone and began to search.

Crystal decided that her thinking face was even cuter than her regular face.

She was in deep. Too deep.

 “I think I follow an account that does stuff like this, let me think, something to do with crystals…”

Way, way too deep.

“I’m feeling a bit tired.” Crystal blurted awkwardly, getting mad at her mother for never placing her in acting lessons as a child, ready for the inevitable week that she’d have to pretend to be her twin sister or else she’d be kicked out of university and murdered by their family. Seeing the almost defeated look on Gigi’s face, she tried again. “But you can show me in the morning?”

“I’d love that.” Gigi smiled.

Crystal wanted to rewind time just to hear that sentence again. She wouldn’t be too greedy, she’d only listen to it one more time. Two at a push.

Making sure to go into the en suite as Gigi got changed, Crystal returned to find her in bed, already asleep, her hair a sprawl of honey against the pink pillows.

She waited a second before turning off the light and getting into bed beside her, something about lying next Gigi sending Crystal into a sleepy haze despite the way her heart had been beating so fast just moments before.

She could hear Gigi breathing, snoring just a little, finding her own breathing starting to sync along.

Sleep was only minutes away from taking over her body when she heard it, the muffled cry coming from the other side of the bed.

“No.” She heard Gigi mumble as she tossed from one side to the other. “Don’t go.”

Crystal placed a reassuring hand on her arm without thought. “Are you alright?”

Gigi woke startled, her eyes beaming at Crystal like a young deer caught in the middle of the road.

“I’m fine.” She realised her surroundings and threw the quilt to one side, moving her body down to the bottom end of the bed. “I best be off.”

“Hey.” Crystal sat up, flicking the lamp on by her bedside. “It’s alright, we can-”

But before she could finish, Gigi was gone. Nothing more than the faint smell of lavender on the pillows and the dark ring of hot chocolate in the bottom of her sister’s mug.

***

Making her way back into the college that evening, Crystal waited by the entrance for a few moments, wondering if she could manage to get to Elle’s room without passing the drinks and shenanigans that were currently taking place in front of her, wondering if she could manage to make it without passing Gigi, more precisely.

Tesco carrier bags full to the brim of every comfort food she could gorge on (salami, cheese, salt and vinegar crisps and three different bars of dairy milk to be precise) as she watched her sister’s Disney+ alone, Crystal concluded that the coast was clear and made her way to the bottom of her stairs without passing Gigi.

The words of the note she had posted under Elle’s door the day beforehand were still dancing around Crystal’s mind like a puzzle that even Professor Layton couldn’t solve:

“Elle, please forgive me for this morning. I don’t know what happens when I get like that..we’re all having drinks at around 8 tomorrow if you wanna join? - Gigi.”

As much as she longed to join Gigi for a drink, Crystal knew that she couldn’t. She’d already put too much on the line, allowed herself to get too close, too emotionally invested. A short text from Elle asking if everything was okay scared her straight, there was too much at stake. Yes, she wanted more than anything to be the one who comforted Gigi the next time she had a nightmare, to make jewellery for her and kiss her forehead whenever she looked stressed. But family meant everything to her, and she knew if anyone were to find out what they’d done, the consequences wouldn’t be worth it. 

About to make her way up the stairs, Crystal felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Let me help with those,” the boy motioned to her bags, his voice familiar.

With dark hair slicked back, and skin the colour of caramel, it took Crystal a second to realise where she knew the boy from, remembering his face next to Gigi’s in their corner of the dining hall.

“I’m fine, they’re not heavy.” Crystal tried to walk away but was stopped by his voice, yet again.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come help? It’s been a little while, Elle.” He grinned, a smirk in his eyes that Crystal couldn’t quite trace.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to catch up with you later,” Crystal responded, trying to remain calm on the outside as her insides reached peak panic mode, her brain mentally scanning her notes for anything mentioning this boy. Her search found no results.

“Oh I get it,” he laughed. “It’s one of your games.  Sure, you wanna catch up later.”

That’s when the realisation hit Crystal. Her sister was having sex with this boy. And she completely failed to mention it.

Trying to think of something to say, a heavy silence lingered between them. Broken by a familiar tone that managed to scare her half to death and turn her on at the same time.

“Karl.” Gigi shook her head as she made her way down the staircase, carrying what looked like a sippy cup of vodka red bull in her hands. “Do you mind not trying to shag every girl in college for five seconds?”

“I’ll see you later, Elle.” He muttered before strutting away with Gigi, Crystal making out the word ‘cockblock’ in their hushed conversation as they left.

She knew that Elle didn’t tell her everything.

Just because they were twins they didn’t have to know every detail of each other’s lives, even though they spoke every day. Crystal always knew that. But a part of her heart stung at the thought of her sister not even telling her about a boy she was sleeping with. Is that how far apart they’d grown since Elle came to uni? 

Fighting back tears, she made her way up the stairs and tried to call her sister. She knew she was being silly; a part of her had just thought she’d know when her sister was sleeping with someone. So many questions ran through her mind. Was Elle safe? Did she love him? Why didn’t anyone know? 

She tried to call again, no answer.

Gigi must have known, Crystal figured - slotting together their interaction the night before with the one they’d just had. Is that why Elle didn’t like her? Why they weren’t friends? Why she’d told Crystal to avoid her?

She answered on the fifth call.

“Hey, babe, I really can’t talk right now.” 

Crystal ignored her sister’s words, dropping her shopping outside the door and moving out onto the fire escape, the cold breeze hitting her face harshly.

“Who’s Karl?” 

“Oh.” She heard her other half’s surprise, she could see the look on her face, high definition in Crystal’s mind. “I told you not to speak to people, for fuck sake, Crystal.”

“Who’s Karl?”

“I can’t speak about this now.” Her tone lowered, clearly someone else was in her company.

“Who’s Karl?” Crystal asked again, not even stopping to think about how dramatic she was being.

Only her sister had hung up before she could get an answer.

Crystal didn’t know how long she’d been out there when she heard the door open, she didn’t even know if she was still crying or not.

“Hi,” Gigi spoke, almost a whisper, as she approached her. “We gotta stop meeting like this, hey?”

Crystal watched Gigi’s face drop a little at the sight of her, looking hurt the second she got close enough to see her tears.

“Yeah, I-” Crystal started but was swiftly interrupted.

Normally in films, it happened after a moment. 

The pair would talk, get deep about their issues, reach a comforting solution then sit for a moment in an all-knowing silence.

Then they’d look into each other’s eyes, letting them flicker down once or twice before meeting again, that lock not leaving until they were shut.

Next came the strand of hair, pushed away and tucked neatly behind the ear.

Finally, the kiss, slow at first then growing in passion.

Only Gigi had no patience.

It took Crystal a second to react, to realise what was happening, to press her lips back against Gigi’s, to race her hand through the other girl’s hair.

It was unexpected.

Yet it felt nothing but natural.

And right.

“I’m sorry.” Gigi pulled away, pausing to bite her tongue between her teeth, a nervous side of her appearing that Crystal had not yet seen. “I know that’s like the last thing you’re meant to do when someone’s upset but, I don’t know, you just looked so sad and-”

This time Crystal wasn’t going to let her finish.

She felt Gigi’s hands wipe the stray tears from her face before moving right down her body to her waist. Moving her body closer so she was almost straddling the other girl, Gigi pulled away for just a second to let out a breath. 

Crystal moved her hands round to Gigi’s back, further and further down until she was granted a nod of permission, letting them slide over the silky fabric of her skirt.

Before Crystal knew it she was being pushed back to the ground, Gigi’s long and beautiful body towering over her, as she got to her knees and began to kiss Crystal all over.

Gently, methodically, slowly. 

Crystal’s mind was carried away, far from reality and refusing to take away from the moment in front of her.

“I knew you wanted me.” She felt Gigi’s breath tickle her ear, sending hot flushes down her entire body, reaching her hands out to touch the other girl’s breasts.

“Fuck, Elle.” Gigi grinned, flicking a switch in Crystal’s body as she pushed herself backwards away from her touch.

She’d almost forgotten that part.

Looking at the other girl’s confused face, she was lost for words, pulling the strap of her vest top back in its place. She knew she couldn’t do it anymore, she couldn’t keep lying. She would have let Gigi sleep with her thinking that she was someone else. She’d become a monster. She had to tell the truth.

“What the fuck?” A voice came from the door behind them, Karl’s confused face flicking between the pair of them. “Is this a joke?”

“Shit,” Gigi muttered and stood up, but Crystal was frozen in place, her hands and feet turning numb with anxiety, the sky around them warping in time. “I can explain.”

Crystal watched as Gigi chased her friend back into the building, listening to her tell him she was sorry and she just got carried away. Listening to Karl ask if that was why she’d told him to stop sleeping with her. Listening to Gigi explain that it wasn’t it, that something had just changed recently. Listening to her life crumble around her.

And then she heard nothing at all.

Even when she knocked on Gigi’s door later that night, ready to give her the explanation she needed, Crystal heard nothing at all - eventually giving in and retreating to the cave of Elle’s room, with no plans to leave it until their train pulled in at the station. 

***

Looking up at the hideous brown bricks in front of her, Elle Barge never thought she’d be so relieved to see the college in her life.

One day earlier than she was supposed to return, she hoped that Crystal would forgive her for withholding some of the stuff she’d been doing at university, thinking that they could have one fun night together before getting the train home the next day, giving at least a hint of truth to their family when they arrived back.

Besides, her holiday romance meet-up hadn’t exactly gone the way she had planned when she accidentally met up with his wife. Hence her early departure.

She figured she’d just have to chalk this one up to being a good story to tell, throwing away her sadness at the thought of having a best-selling novel about her awful love life someday. 

Heck, she’d probably already have half of it written with just stories about Karl.

Walking up the stairs to her room, she rolled her eyes at the sight in front of her.

One thing she certainly had not missed was Gigi Goode braying on her door to tell her to turn her music down.

Surely, Crystal wasn’t irritating her, Elle thought to herself. The only music Crystal ever played was One Direction and she hardly blasted it.

“Ahem.” Elle coughed loudly enough for Crystal to hear from inside the room, praying she’d understand with her magic twin sense not to come out (also quickly texting her not to incase the magic twin sense failed them. Elle did not want a repeat of that time in year nine when Jackie Cox asked if they could read each other’s minds).

“Hey.” Gigi turned to face her, a strange look on her face that Elle couldn’t quite decode. Tension started to seep through the stained carpet and up the walls like lava.

“Hi?” Elle raised an eyebrow to her, more of a question than a greeting. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you before,” Gigi started, nodding her head as she got into the rhythm of her speech. “I was just scared and I didn’t know how to say it but I can now. Please just listen and wait ‘til I’m done, I have to explain.”

Minefields began exploding inside Elle’s brain.

She simply nodded.

“I’ve been fucked over in the past. And it still scares me today. You know the other night? That was it, I haven’t felt myself get close to anyone in a while. And I know it’s bad because of Karl and I’m a shitty friend to him but honestly, I think that this is something bigger than that, cause I’ve not felt it for a while. And I think you feel it too. Look, I’m really shit at this but something changed this week, I saw you in this light I’d never caught you in. I might sound mad but I think that I need you.”

Looking back at the girl in front of her with dismay, Elle spoke back the only three words that rang through her brain at that moment.

“What the fuck.”

And then her door opened, her sister’s face peeking out around the corner, clad in the same expression she used to have whenever she’d spilt juice on the carpet or smashed plate. Her hair matted and eyes puffy, Elle immediately moved to her side.

And then Gigi uttered the three words as well - only adding a “fucking” in there too for good measure.

Killing the silence that lingered for some time, Crystal spoke the fastest sentence Elle had ever heard all in one breath: “I’ve been pretending to be my sister so she could go get fucked by a Spanish guy.”

“Wow.” Elle looked back and forth between the pair, recognising a glint in her sister’s eyes that was certainly not there before.

Crystal prepared herself and walked up to Gigi, placing her hand on her arm. “I wanted to tell you so bad. I was going to but then Karl came and everything got messy. I know you probably can’t forgive me, but I saw that bigger thing too and I let myself get carried away in it.”

Gigi looked between the pair and raised a hand to her mouth, letting out a hearty laugh. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Elle pleaded, fear rising inside her.

Silence filled the landing again, the twins standing sheepishly as they gave time for Gigi to process.

“If I’m honest I think I’m less confused now.” Gigi turned to face Crystal and grinned, showing an emotion Elle didn’t think the Barbie doll was even capable of showing. “This makes a lot more sense.”

Elle watched as her sister grinned back, seeing the genuine happiness on her face and throwing away all thoughts about whether or not she’d get in trouble.

“I think I might just be able to forgive you.” Gigi looked her up and down, pouting her lips in a joking manner. “If you let me take you out so we can talk this through over dinner?”

“Yes,” Crystal responded without hesitation.

“But first, could you tell me your name?”

“Crystal.” Elle watched as her sister reached out and shook the other girl’s hand, proud of the growth in confidence she could see - happy to see the return of the happy-go-lucky Crystal who wasn’t too scared to try anything new that she knew as a child.

“Crystal,” Gigi repeated, smiling to herself. “So Crystal, do you go to uni or just hang around at other people’s?”

“Maybe next year.” Crystal smiled back a sense of optimism in her voice. “Are we going for this dinner or what?”

Although it took her a minute to take in what she’d seen, a strange feeling inside of her as she waved her sister goodbye for a date with her bitchy downstairs neighbour, Elle couldn’t help but think that her disaster vacation had all happened for a good reason. In fact, she found herself almost shedding a tear as she heard her sister laughing at something Gigi said on their way downstairs, figuring that she might just see more of her sister than usual next term (and being nothing but happy about it).

[nctzendreamz]

Psycho — Bae Joohyun

Irene really, really loves you. Too much, you begin to realize.

Warnings: Psychotic!Au, mentions of abuse, murder, language, and in general dark themes.

Word Count: 7k

January 16, 2020 — 9:45PM

She might as well have been a celebrity, as she was the key reason that this coffee shop got visitors. Her silky smooth skin, complimented by her sparkling eyes and perfect build was everything the masses needed to get up early in the mornings before work.

She couldn’t count all the numbers she had recieved in just the couple of months she had been employed at Velvets; the coffee shop that rested in the center of the city. It’s red and pink decor, followed by the hand crafted decorations from so many visitors in the past, was exactly where Bae Joohyun, more frequently referred to as Irene belonged.

She always had the same greeting. It was in the protocol, after all.

“Hello! Welcome to Velvet’s. How are you doing today?”

And today is no different. She always tries her best to look right at the customer as soon as she hears the familiar bell, indicating the door had opened, but her nail was chipping, and it was driving her nuts. She says her line, still fiddling before she realizes that it can’t be fixed until later.

“I’m so sorry! It’s been a long—“

And then she stops. She has seen a million people come and go to her place of work. Most of them found her beauty to be enchanting, but even the finest of them could barely make her blink. No matter how hard they tried to merge the conversation onto dinner, or what she was doing after her shift, her facial expression stayed the same—dull and unimpressed.

But you. You’re standing here in all of your glory, hair perfectly sculpted to your face. She loves this look on you. It’s the perfect color to compliment your perfect skin, and daring eyes as they swallow her whole. Usually, she did this to others, yet here you were, snatching her soul—seemingly without even trying. 

“A long day.” She finally breaths out. Her heart is racing at a dangerous pace, and she knows she looks like a creep right now. Her dark eyes are trying to break you down, and bring you to your knees, but it’s not working.

“I understand that.” You giggle. You seem tired. The bags under your eyes are slight, but still drooped enough to which she can tell you’re either a student, or you work a nine to five. Regardless, you’re not always free. Your clothing is simple. Sweats, a hoodie, and some ugg boots to shield you from the cold weather. “Your nails are so cute, by the way.” You smile, and it’s calming. It’s not a full on cheese session, but that makes it even better. It’s simple, just as you seem to be.

“Don’t flatter me.” She begins, showing them to you in full form over the marble counter. “It’s chipped.”

“And still cute.” You assure, smoothly moving a sole finger across the nail. “Is it gel polish?” You question with an adorable head tilt. Absolutely priceless. You’re probably very good at getting what you want. You know exactly how to move, and lighten your voice to make people feel what you want them to feel.

“It is. You know—

“It stays on longer.” You finish for her.

“Exactly.” She can’t hold in her smile. Was her heart...warming? If so, that meant her cheeks were turning pink, which also meant that you could see clearly that you were doing it right. If you were flirting with her, you were doing it so well, and so respectfully.

“I’ll just take a hazelnut.” You breathe out. Your hands are in your pockets, and you’re shifting the weight from your toes to your heels repeatedly. You must be cold. When you’re cold, you get jittery it seems. That’s why you’re in here in the nick of time. You’re definitely in school. You probably just got out of class, and have a shit-ton of homework to finish. That’s why you need the coffee and that’s why you seem so exhausted; although you’re trying to hide it from her.

“Hazelnut!” She shouts, turning around and giving the ticket to the real worker in here. She doesn’t even look at him as reaches out to snatch it from her. “Is that your favorite?”

“The only coffee I will drink.” You admit, covering your face with your hands. You’re embarrassed. You probably feel somewhat uncultured, and childish for even saying that out loud.

“Have you ever tried another?” She says in a light tone, tilting her head just as you did a few minutes ago. Still, you’re unfazed. You actually close your eyes for a moment before snapping them back open.

“I have. I think it was roasted chestnut? Whatever it was it was not good at all.” And now you’re laughing. Your laugh—it’s beautiful. It’s not a subtle, shy chuckle that would indicate you don’t laugh often. You laugh all the time. She can’t tell if it’s a boyfriend that always has you geeked like this, or maybe your friends. Maybe, even your girlfriend, but that would break her heart too much.

“Well, coffee isn’t the only good thing here. We’re not Starbucks, but our frapachinos are pretty good.” Irene mentions, eyes flicking to the frap menu to the left of her. She lets the red sweater she spotted slip off her shoulder ever so slightly, and you’re looking at it. It was for a mere second, but she saw it.

“Here you go.” Josh—the chef of this shift interrupted, handing you your coffee quickly.

“That’s the fastest you’ve ever done that.” Irene seethes, shooting an annoyed look to her co-worker.

“Trying to close. No offense.” Josh nods to you, already starting the trials and tribulations that closing involved. He’s wetting a rag in preparation of wiping all of the counters down.

“Oh, none taken. I hate to be that customer that comes in late like this. I just have all this work to catch up on and I figured buying aderall from the guy who sits beside me in Psych wasn’t the best idea.”

Irene breaks into a fit of laughter. Truthfully, she wasn’t faking it. You were so funny. But she was also right. She hit the nail right on the head, actually. Josh couldn’t believe his ears as he had barely seen her smile a genuine cheese. Of course he stayed silent. “You’re funny!” She coughs out through her fit.

“Don’t flatter me.” You smile brightly. Your smile is so pretty, just like you. God, she was running through too many scenarios on how she could make you stay. “Thanks for this pleasing experience. Today sucked and I needed it so badly. Do you guys have like a manager or something? Or like a survey?”

She had never been asked this before. No one had ever cared to commend them on their excellent service and caffeine recovery program they had in place for the addicts. “Um...no. But what you can do is come back. To repay us.” She whispers the last part.

She needs your name. She just knows someone like you has the most goregeous name.

And the heavens answers her request. She already saw that you had a necklace hiding under your hoodie, but you’re pulling it out now. It’s a name; she just needs to know who it is.

“That necklace, I love it.” She leans over the counter, squinting to see the name. “Y/N.” She mumbles. “Is that your name?”

“It is.” You respond. “People say it’s stupid to wear your own name, but it’s comforting to me. Plus, I don’t have someone else’s name to wear so.”

So, you were single.

“Don’t get too discouraged. Someone could come and change that. Very soon, actually.” She purrs, and she finally does it. She’s getting in your head. You’re seeing her.

You leave, your walk mezmorizing her in ways that makes her tingle. She barely follows the procedures of cleaning, as all she wants to do is go home. She needs to know everything about you.

“Y/N L/N. Twenty four years old. Younger than me.”

It wasn’t that hard to find your all your social media. All public, minus your Facebook account. Your Twitter consists of retweets of memes that probably made you scream, and your own little comedy that your select friends liked as they felt obligated.

She can’t lie; she was expecting to see a tweet about her. Something about a beautiful girl in the coffee shop. But there was nothing. Not a peep. Then again, maybe this was a good sign. Maybe you liked to keep your loves private. She’s searching through your pictures, embellishing in the sight of you until something stops her scrolling.

It’s a picture of you, and another guy. His hair is black, but his features are far from plain. He’s not impressive to her, but she knows to you, he’s everything. He seems to be just your type.

It’s been two years, and yet, it feels like a thousand.

The caption is so short, yet so sweet and gentle. It’s telling a million stories with one sentence, and even she can tell there’s real love in the photo. On your side, at least. She feels sick now. He’s tagged on the photo.

Lee Taeyong. That’s his name. The first place she searches is his likes, where she knows she’ll find proof of him being a scumbag. The way you addressed your necklace; it’s almost as if it was a mere replacement for a previous. It was a somber, silent story.

A lot of his likes are filled with hip-hop. Viral dances, artist appreciation, funny memes just as you enjoyed. You two probably found love through a similar interest. She continues to scroll though, where she finds something that truly twists her stomach. A quote.

Do you ever wish you could turn back time? Fix a mistake? Go back to when everything was perfect? When you could hold her and she was yours? Because same.

He hurt you. She didn’t know what he did, but she knows he hurt you. Her first guess was cheating, and she was going to stick to it. Maybe your chill nature was because your walls were up so high. Maybe your intense laughter wasn’t because you laughed all the time, but instead because you hadn’t laughed in a while. And it was all his fault—fuck Lee Taeyong.

He works at a video game store. No—he owns an arcade to be exact. She was going to see him. She needed to observe him in person. See his vibe. In the mean time, she can follow you on Instagram. That’s not too weird, right?

January 17, 2020 — 7:30PM

“Welcome to T’s.” A dull voice speaks.

Although the lighting in the arcade is practically blinding—all the neon creating a cool atmosphere, their customer service is awful. Probably a telling to his personality if that’s the kind of people he hired.

She waited for a moment, waiting for more. How can they just assume she knows what she’s doing? What kind of place was this? It’s a Saturday afternoon, and it shows because people are everywhere. Kids are running around, and adults are talking trash to eachother as they bet money on who will win the car game. “Men.” She sighs. But with her sighs brings the man she’s looking for. He’s almost blending in with his all black clothing, but she knows it’s him. He’s hard to miss, but not because of his features. It’s because she hates him.

Her current outfit; a tight red dress and dangerous heels aren’t really arcade attire, but she doesn’t care. She clacks her way over to Taeyong, who is surrounded by many people. He must be popular. He definitely cheated on you. The girls around him were ridiculous. So much for missing you.

She knows approaching so quickly would be foolish. It wouldn’t make sense. She decides instead to creep around, wanting to know who these people are. As she gets closer, she can recognize almost all of them. Chungha—your seemingly bestfriend was here, some guy with his arm around her shoulder. The Johnny she had seen pop up on your feed a few times, the Ten, and lastly, the Momo. Momo also seems to have some unspoken feelings about you.

She could feel it in the way she comments under your pictures. You couldn’t notice her flirtatious nature, but it was there.

The most beautiful human in the world.

My favorite.

Can I be you?

More like—can I be with you?

“Excuse me.” Irene finally speaks, interupting their laughter. She was hoping they’d give her a dirty look, so she could have even more of a reason to turn you against them, but they don’t. They look at her in synch, smiles still on their faces.

“What’s up?” Johnny says, a dashing grin on his face. Another who thinks she’s too beautiful. Exactly how she felt about you. “Are you new around here?”

Chungha punches him in the shoulder promptly, clearly not a fan of his approach. Irene can see why she was your chosen best-friend. Then again, was she really your friend? I mean, all of these people were hanging around your ex boyfriend and the only person who wasn’t here is you?

“Sorry about that.” She apologizes. “Us pretty girls are hard to come by, and they get extremely thirsty.”

She’s funny, but not as funny as you.

“Oh it’s fine. I’m Irene.” She introduces, placing her frail hand out. It connects with Chungha’s, and it’s genuine. “He’s right. I am new here. I’m a tad overdressed, I see.”

“I’m not complaining.” Johnny adds, receiving a punch from Taeyong this time.

So, he’s somewhat of a woman supporter too. I mean, he didn’t have to stop him from his words, but he did.

“I’m Taeyong.” He sighs, but he doesn’t place his hand out. That’s odd. The glow of games is making all of them look nothing less of models, but that doesn’t mean she’s impressed. No one was better than you.

“You know, you’re allowed to touch a girl other than your family and Y/N.” Johnny jokes.

The mention of your name makes everything in Irene’s body spike. They were acknowledging you, even though you weren’t here, which means maybe you didn’t mind them being here without you. Or maybe you and Taeyong weren’t exactly broken up. Something complicated instead.

He doesn’t say anything, just squints at his friend in an evil manner.

“Y/N.” Irene interrupts, putting a hand on her chin. “I met someone with that name last night.” She says. She knows exactly what she’s doing. “I work at Velvets, and this girl came in. She was wearing a necklace with that name.”

She watches for Taeyong’s reaction, and she gets what she wants. The mention of the cafe makes him almost flinch. Velvets must have been a place you two frequently visited together when you were dating. But then again, why did you seem so clueless about the menu? No, you weren’t. You mentioned you tried other coffee. It must have been with him. The way you laughed, it all makes sense now. You were thinking about him. A memory popped up.

She wants to ask if you were his ex, but that would be crossing the line. She had only known them for two minutes. It would seem too odd.

“Was she wearing sweat pants and a hoodie?” Momo questions now. Her hands are crossed over her chest, and Irene can’t read her. She doesn’t like that. Momo somewhat has her guard up.

“Yeah. I think she was.”

“That was definitely her. She’s been dressing like a complete bum lately.” Momo giggles now. If she didn’t already know this was her competition, she knows now. Momo is giggling just from thinking about you. You must make her laugh a lot. Irene doesn’t like her judgemental nature. You would be perfect in every state if she was a real one, but she’s not. So maybe she isn’t going to be a problem after all.

“You described her perfectly.” Irene seethes, quickly switching back to her normal state. The bright smile, and pink lip.

“How was she?” Taeyong questions. He still cares. She can see in in his eyes, but even if she was blind, it wouldn’t matter. His voice was so frail when talking about you.

“Oh brother.” Ten sighs

“I have a right to know.” Taeyong argues. He’s frustrated. He’s hot headed; at least when it comes to you.

“She seemed perfect to me. Laughing a lot, making jokes and stuff. I apologize if I’m out of place for this, but what’s going on? Is she okay?”

All of their faces seem to freeze for a mere second. They’re not uncomfortable with her question, but it seems like they’re wondering do they have permission to tell your buisness like that. They’re looking at Taeyong, presumably because it’s technically his buisness too.

Chungha is the first to speak. “She’s fine. These two,” she points to Taeyong, and then seemingly to thin air, “they broke up.”

Momo is oddly silent. She’s seemingly fuming, but no one is paying attention to her. That means none of these people know about her feelings for you. She’s been keeping it bottled up this entire time.

“Oh...sorry for asking.” Irene quickly scrambles, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I should’ve put that together by myself—

“It’s okay, beautiful.” Johnny places a hand on her shoulder, and she wants to slap the stupid grin off of his face, but he was going to be useful. He was stupid, and naive. One pull down of her panties, and he would tell her everything she needed to know. She moves into his touch, giggling just a tad.

The vibration of her phone distracts her, and she quickly searches for it in her Louis purse. You followed her back. One by one, you’re liking her pictures, and she can feel her heart beating hard through her little chest. Was her fairytale going to happen? Was she finally going to be able to fall in love again? God, she loved you already. Your sexy demeanor, your perfection. She needed you, and she would do anything to get it.

The bell of the shop dings, indicating that more people are walking in. From the way that they all freeze once again, she knows exactly who it is. She turns around and there you are. Her knees so badly want to get weak, but she controls herself. Today, you’re wearing an oversized t-shirt. She can’t tell if you have shorts on under, but she hopes you doesn’t. The shirt is from some band you listen to, and you have white converse on your feet. High top.

Momo is the first to greet you. She practically jumps into your arms, and Irene notices the way you don’t seem to mind. Her brain is starting to shock her, jolting her anger to all the wrong places. She could fucking kill Momo right now. The two of you are spinning around, Momo’s legs around your waist and you inhaling her scent. Everyone else is looking at the scene with a soft smile—they’re so stupid. How can they not see?

Momo finally returns back to the floor, and now you’re looking at her. She quickly fixes herself up, so quick, that you don’t even notice.

“Irene?”

The way you say her name is causing her to pool. She wants to hear you say it for the rest of the night. She takes a deep breath, not hiding it this time before she strides to you, hugging you. She knows this won’t make you uncomfortable. You seem to be willing to catch some affection for people you like. When she feels your hands on her middle back, she inhales you. You smell like spring, even in the winter, and that’s so beautiful. You’re so beautiful. She allows her cheek to graze against yours ever so slightly, and your noses to touch before she backs away. She sees the way you bite your lip. No one can see you but her, and she likes the thrill. It’s dangerous.

“Johnny.” You sigh, walking past him without a look. You don’t like Johnny—that’s obvious. Was he possible the reason for you and Taeyong’s break-up? “My Tenny!” You screech, putting his face in your hands like a baby and kissing his cheek softly. You have a soft side. “Chungha~” You sing, embracing her tightly. Now it was the big reveal. Would you speak to Taeyong? Or would you two do the awkward stare.

He still loves you. It’s obvious in the way that the love practically pours out of his eyes, and his hands shake. “Y/N.” He whispers. It’s like no one else is in the room. You must have not seen any of them in a while, based on the way they stare at you admiringly.

“Hey.” You whisper back, slowly moving to hug him. He closes his eyes for a mere second, and it’s all over. Now you’re back beside Irene, who’s very pleased.

“Irene was just telling us that the two of you know eachother.” Johnny speaks. He’s trying to get back into your good graces. It’s so obvious it’s painful.

“Yeah.” You smile, but not at him. “I was at Velvets getting my usual, and then we met. Surprised to see you here though.” You’re looking at her now.

“What? Just because I’m in a dress means I can’t be a gamer?” She jokes, and everyone around laughs. Everyone but Momo.

“No. Momo wears dresses.” You say, slapping her thigh gently. Why do you keep touching her? She’s standing right here, looking good for you, and you’re flirting with Momo? “There’s just a lot of assholes in a place like this. You don’t seem to be interested in that.”

“Well, how about I prove you wrong? Loser has to buy the other coffee.” She prompts.

She hopes everyone else looks jealous. Especially Momo. Knowing you, even if you wanted to say no, you weren’t going to deny her.

“Any coffee?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything you want—that is, if you win.”

“I say we have a tournament.” Momo adds in. “I mean, it’s been a while since we’ve all been together lile this.”

Shut up, slut. God, Irene just wants to wrap her hands around her neck. She had to get you away from her as soon as possible.

“Sounds good to me.” You agree. “Is that cool with you?” You look back at her. You’re already hooked enough to have to ask permission when you had only known her for 24 hours.

“Does it matter if she is?” Johnny mentions.

“Johnny!” Chungha screeches. “Why are you being such a dick!”

“Don’t answer that.” Ten prompts, taking his friend by the hand and leading him outside.

“Anyways, that sounds like a great idea to me. Let’s roll!” Chungha yells in sorority fashion, and now all of you are going to where the fun is. There’s a million games to choose from, but it seems like you guys have a section you’re leading her to.

“As you can see, the games only get harder and harder from here.” You explain to her, placing a hand on her lower back.

“So like, kids shouldn’t be going this far.” She giggles.

“Exactly. Consider yourself privileged.” You wink.

“Just because I’m short and cute does not mean I’m a child.”

“You’re going to have to prove that to me.”

You’re definitely flirting with her now. And to make it even better, more fiesty than she had expected it to be.

“What are you doing after this?” She flirts back, placing her hand on your back now.

“You’re taking me to get coffee.”

“Velvets will be closed.” She pouts.

“I didn’t say you had to take me to Velvets. They sell hazelnut coffee everywhere.”

“You really think you can beat me, can’t you?”

“No. I know I can.”

And you did. You beat the clean breaks off of her in every single thing. The whole tournament went to hell as you and Irene were completely in your own world. You ran from game to game like children.

You weren’t rude enough to not say goodbye, but it was quick. You knew exactly what was going to happen after tonight, and you needed it. It had been too long.

“You’re not coming over?” Is the last thing you hear right before you and Irene head out. It’s Momo again, and her eyes are sad as she seems to know exactly what’s going on. “We haven’t had the big sleepover in so long, and I cleaned my house.”

Irene is reading you like the open book you are, and you’re fighting it. You haven’t seen your friends in a while, and you want their attention. You love the fact that they miss you, and you miss them even more, but you don’t crave them like you’re craving her right now.

“I promise next weekend.” You try to plead.

“But I got drinks.”

“A promise is a promise.” Now your pinky is out. The way Momo seemingly gives up on her complaining shows that your promises held weight. She connects her pinky with yours, before lightly caressing your knuckles with her thumb. You don’t think anything if it, but Irene knows, and her eyes are burning holes into her skull.

As soon as the two of you reach the car, you’ve forgotten about the coffee.

With a slammed hand on the foggy window, Irene is in bliss.

“So much for that hazelnut coffee, huh?” She purrs, kissing you once more.

“You still owe me.” You giggle.

“You’re absolutely right.” She’s now crawling down your body, fully prepared to repay you for your victory. More like her victory. She had won, and it was easy. You were easy, and yet she still loved you. She would never let you go, and anybody who got in the way of you two being together forever will feel her wrath.

February 17, 2020 — 2:00PM

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me that I leave for two seconds, and Y/N and Irene are fucking?”

“Not just fucking—fucking dating.”

Johnny and Taeyong were catching up, just as brothers did. After being pulled out of the arcade by Ten, it had been decided that Johnny needed a break from his crew. There was clearly some animosity—rightfully so within the group, and a month break was much needed.

“I didn’t even know Y/N...”

“Exactly.” Taeyong finishes for him, taking an aggressive sip from his coffee. With the slam, some of it splattered on the table. He can’t help but think about how you would immediately clean it up as little things like that bothered you, if you were here that is.

“Well, how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t understand how this happened so quick. I mean, think about how long it took me and Y/N to start dating. We talked for what felt like years before you guys pushed us to make it official.”

“You mean pushed you.” Johnny corrects, sipping his Americano with shade.

“Whatever. I just don’t like it. I mean, this Irene girl just shows up, and takes Y/N away that quick? That quick?”

“I mean, she is fine as hell. Are you saying you wouldn’t be down for that?”

“Can you not be gross for like two seconds?” Taeyong fumes.

“Shh.” The congregation of the library says in unison, causing him to throw his head down in shame.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Month of meditation actually did something I can assure you.”

“I want to look into her.”

“As in, like stalk her? Do you really think you’ll find anything?”

“I don’t want to, but this all happened too coincidentally. I know you think I’m crazy,” a nervous habit formed as a little boy, Taeyong is scratching his elbow like a manic. His rash has appeared, and rash equaled bad news.

“Well, you know I’m on your side. You might be stupid and crazy, but as your best friend it’s my job to make sure you don’t do it alone.”

They weren’t alone, even when they thought they had found a secluded area. She was there, disguised as a typical college girl. She sported a bob that made her look extremely basic, and her ears heard every drip of that conversation. Of course, being the idiots that they were, a bathroom break included them leaving all their belongings on the table.

February 21, 2020 — 12:00AM

“Do I know you?” The blonde girl says in a low voice. She’s scared as she approaches her vehicle. She worked the late shift tonight, and deep down she knew it was a horrible idea, especially when her boyfriend was too drunk to come and get her.

“You don’t need the extra money—I got you, babe.”

But she ignored him.

“No, but I know you.”

“Did my boyfriend sleep with you? Because if you want revenge, I’m not the one you need to be speaking to.”

“What would make you think that?”

“Past trauma.”

“So he’s cheated before.”

“No, past trauma.” She doesn’t know why she’s entertaining this stranger. Maybe it’s because she’s so beautiful. You can’t help but to trust her, even in such a suspicious predicament. I mean, she was leaning on her fucking car like she pays the note. “Are you an addict or something? I barely have anything for myself, okay? Maybe next week.”

“You’re Johnny’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“I’m calling the police.”

But Irene snatches her phone from her, slamming it on the ground. The black gloves that cover her hands secure her non-existent finger prints, and the phone shatters.

“Literally what the fuck!” The blonde screams, but it doesn’t matter. They’re in a parking garage and there’s no one here to save her. She tries to run away, but Irene is just too quick. The knife that was behind her back connects to the back of her neck, and she haults.

“This is for your nosy fucking boyfriend, who believes that he can somehow find out about my past and make Y/N leave me. How foolish of him.” She chuckles, letting the blood trickle down her arm.

She’s crying and screaming, but as stated, it’s irrevlant. Irene 2 — Johnny 0.

February 18, 2020 — 9:00AM

“I just...I just can’t believe it. I told her not to work that stupid fucking shift.”

“It’s not your fault, Johnny.”

“Yes it is. If I wouldn’t have been drunk out of my ass, I could’ve saved her somehow—I don’t know. But now she’s gone. I loved her. I loved her so damn much and I was finally pulling it together because of her.”

The rest of you sit on the couch, struggling to find the proper words for such a tragedy. Johnny is sobbing into his hands now, while Ten is rubbing his back gently. Taeyong is off to the side staring into space. You’re familiar with this look. He was thinking heavily about something, but you obviously would never find out what it was. Chungha is sitting on your right, rocking back and forth. Her nails are chopping at her fingers—a clear sign of her fearfulness. Similar to Taeyong, Momo is silent. You expected her eyes to be on you in search of some answers, or silent suspicions, but she refuses.

Finally, Irene is beside you to the left. You didn’t know Johnny’s lover that well, but you knew she was a decent girl. She didn’t deserve this, and you couldn’t even imagine what would it would feel like to lose someone you loved. Anyone sitting in this room. Her frail hand is locked on your elbow while her thumb is trying to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers. Her lips find your shoulder in something sweet and comforting. “Who would do something like this? Did she have an ex boyfriend?”

It takes a minute for Johnny to find a response.

“She did tell me about some guy who began to get a little possessive, so she broke it off. But she never mentioned him coming back.”

“Maybe it was him.” Irene says quietly. You can tell she’s trying not to say too much, as she hadn’t been hanging with the crew for too long. You’re grateful that she’s here for you.

“Let’s just let the police do their job.” Momo finally speaks, standing up from the loveseat she sat on alone. Something is wrong with her, but you’d have to figure that out later.

“Let’s order some food.” You decide, standing up as well. “I know you might now want to eat right now, but it’ll clear you head even if just a little bit. We are all under a lot of stress right now.”

“I agree, babe.” Irene commends, smiling at you sadly.

“Alright.” Johnny sighs. He also rises, but he goes straight into the back of his apartment instead. None of you were worried about him hurting himself. You knew he needed time to let his emotions out, as he was constantly trying to be society’s definition of a man.

Your phone vibrates, and it’s Irene who’s hitting you up.

I think you should check on Momo. Was she friends with her? She just seems really upset and I know how close you two are.

You have to contain the smile that wants to come out for the sake of the situation, but she was so perfect. She didn’t get jealous about anything. And she was so in love with you. It had been too long since you could confidently admit that this wasn’t a one-sided situation.

Your feet are approaching the kitchen softly, trying not to make such a scene. Momo is leaned over the counter at first, but when she sees you she tries to straighten up.

“Hey.” She whispers, preparing for eavesdropping.

“Hey.” You say back.

Why was this so awkward? It was never like this before.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

Which means she’s not. You see her observing your current outfit—yoga pants with a shirt she had bought you years ago covering your body.

“Do you want to talk later?” You offer, putting a tiny smirk on your face remembering that usually made her feel better.

“I think that would be good, actually. I don’t know if we’ll have the time, but maybe when everyone’s asleep?”

“The best thing I’ve heard all day.” You open your arms out, and you know she won’t deny you. She lets out what seems to be all the stress from her week as she lets you engulf her. It had been so long since the two of you were close like this. On your nights where you couldn’t sleep from past thoughts, it was Momo who would come over and hold you until you could.

“I’ve missed you.” She mumbles into your shoulder. “So much.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I haven’t been exactly here as much.”

“Irene...I know.” She pulls away at the mention of her name, and it’s odd timing. “Let me just ask you something— as one of your best friends?”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t you think the two of you are moving a little fast? I mean, we saw the girl for the first time a month ago, and now you’re all committed and in love with her. I’m just concerned.”

She made several points. It wasn’t that you made people wait for you in the past. This whole scenario was just too quick, especially since you had just gotten out of a relationship not too long ago.

“Are you insinuating that I’m not over Taeyong?”

“No.” She’s confident in her answer. “I don’t want you to be with him anyway. He cheated on and is a fat jerk.”

You snort at her last two words, and she’s punching your shoulder lightly even though she’s laughing as well.

“You’re so negative minded.”

“Continue.” You breath out, covering your mouth.

“I just feel like—

The door flies open, revealing Irene on the other side. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you ordered the pizza yet? We’re all starving.”

In reality, she wasn’t in the mood for food. Ten and Taeyong had went to the back to check on Johnny, and Chungha was using the bathroom. She had heard your whole exchange and to say she was pissed was an understatement. Why didn’t you try and defend her? You should have walked out of the room, and straight into her lap the minute the slut tried to question you on something she knew nothing about.

Both of you look like you’ve been caught, and she relishes in that. The fear that is in both of your eyes.

“Yeah I got you.”

That’s all you have to say to her? First, Momo was able to get you to open up that fast, when you hadn’t even revealed to her any details of you and Taeyong’s relationship.

“Or, you can order it if you want. Me and Y/N were just catching up I’m sorry to take her away.” The slut speaks. Her voice bleeds cockiness, even though her face is soft and sweet. She knows that Irene is mad. She’s enjoying it.

“Okay.” Is all Irene mumbles before going back to the living room.

“What was that about?” Momo is looking at you in confusion and fear. She had always had suspicions about Irene. She just seemed too nice—too willing to be everything you needed, when in reality she didn’t fit the role.

Momo had been in love with you since she met you. Your smile, the way you loved everyone no matter their differences, and your seemingly never ending talent of making her laugh. You were magical, but she was okay with being on the sideline. She had done it for two years straight while you were with Taeyong, and even during your nights of crying over she kept it to herself.

She knew keeping it to herself was only hurting her, but she was willing to be hurt for the sake of your happiness as you were happy with Taeyong. She could see how much the two of you loved eachother, and even after everything went down, she didn’t want to stop your journey of loving herself to have to figure out a way to reject her feelings nicely.

“Guess I’ll have to find out later.”

You seem frustrated as your leg is tapping up and down—even though you’re not sitting. Your breathing is getting faster and faster, and she knew this picture. This is exactly how you used to react when Taeyong made you upset, or neglected your feelings.

“Does she know what pizza you like?” She decides on, trying to pick your mood up with her bare hands as you were always able to do for her. She finds herself dancing slightly—her go to when she didn’t know what to do.

“I should probably go find out.” You smack her exposed stomach before walking back into the living room, where everyone has returned. Momo is behind you, and Irene is staring straight at the wall.

“The pizza should be here soon.” She whispers without removing her eyes.

“That’s goo—

By soon, even she didn’t seem to have meant this soon. The door is being knocked on quite aggressively, and all of you are looking at eachother trying to decide who’s going to answer.

“I’ll get it.” You step up. You were always the one in the group who would rise to the things you knew they were scared to do. Before you can even put your hand on the knob though, the banging is coming again, this time even louder. “I’m coming!” You spit full of attitude, and at the same time, everyone but Irene is rising to the occasion to stand by your side. You would always protect eachother—even from the pizza man. Johnny steps infront of you, opening the door himself.

It’s the police, and they don’t look happy.

“Are you Johnny Suh?” The chubby officer questions.

“Uh—yes.” He stutters. “The police said I wasn’t getting questioned until tomorrow.”

“Oh cut the crap.” The other offer says. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Cierra Valdez.” He rips the handcuffs from his belt, and he’s trying to turn Johnny around, but Johnny will never go down without a fight.

“What are you talking about!”

“Get off of him!” You yell, immediately trying to pull him in your direction. Everyone else follows, together more powerful than the police. Johnny is out of their grasp for just a few moments before a gun is pointed towards all of you.

“Drop your hands now!”

“You’re not gonna fucking shoot us!” Taeyong screams. It was the most passion Irene had heard come from his lips, and she was quite entertained. She was entertained by all of this. If you wouldn’t have been letting Momo flirt with you, she would’ve gotten up to shield you, but you didn’t, which is why she’s sitting on the couch in fake shock.

“Y/N get over here!” She yells. She doesn’t even have to wipe the sly smirk off her face as nobody is looking at her.

But you ignore her.

“I didn’t kill her!” Johnny is crying all over again, his whole face soaked in tears. “I loved her. Why would I kill her?”

“Anything you do or say will be held against you.” The Miranda rights are flowing out of the officer like he does this all the time, and now they’re dragging him out. His back is scratching on the cement.

“Y’all have to help me!” Johnny screeches. The whole apartment complex can hear what’s going on, and it’s killing him inside. He didn’t kill the love of his life. He didn’t. “I loved her.” He cried once more. “I fucking loved her!”

Continued

[brashierc]

Attention

Connor Brashier.

He’s a very quiet, private, stick to himself, kind of guy. 

That type of guy with a girlfriend leads to not much PDA, far and few between intimate moments, and small moments of doubt. 

You know Connor loves you, you also know he shows it in a way you don’t. 

You would rather hold his hand as you walked down the street, leave some passionate kisses on his lips whenever you had to leave his side, or surprise him at work with a coffee. 

Connor though, took pictures of you in what you thought were your worst moments. He’d send you pictures of beautiful destinations with no caption, or give you just the slightest smile if he saw you walk in from across the room. 

He was especially this way on tour, not wanting to seem like he wasn’t focused on his job. He’d walk ahead of you with the group or go out on little adventures for a photo shoot and tell you about it later. To him, he knew you were there. You were a constant in his life of crazy, so he didn’t think much about it. 

You knew that, and you loved him for it, but of course you had moments where you really just wanted your boyfriend to be near. 

“Look she’s getting so mad!” You hear Alessia laugh as you walk down the hallway of the venue, hoping to find Connor somewhere. You peak your head in the room and can’t help but smile at the laughter spilling out of the room.

“Who’s getting mad?” You asked, walking in and peering over Alessia’s and Olivia’s shoulder to see them watching a video on their laptop.

“Y/n!” Alessia cheers, “We’re watching couple prank videos on youtube, look-” She points to a screen where you see a boyfriend trying to kiss his girlfriend. “It’s the ‘I can’t stop kissing you’ prank, and she’s getting so annoyed with him.” 

You lean on the back of the couch their seated on, to watch the rest of the video and the next one Olivia clicks on after that. Again it was a kissing video, and this girlfriend was much more annoyed than the last. 

Connor is strolling down the halls, camera in hand, stopping when he hears your voice, a smile instantly spending on his face. 

“I don’t understand why they’re so annoyed?” You question when the video ends.

“What do you mean?” Alessia asks.

“I’d kill if Connor gave me attention like that, so I’m a little lost at why they’re annoyed with their boyfriends wanting to kiss them.” 

Alessia’s brows furrow as you speak, she’s confused as to what you’ve said about Connor. She knows for a fact that that boy is obsessed with you, and can’t ever get you out of his mind. 

She reaches back and touches your hand silently, locking eyes with you and giving you a look that let you know she’s here if you ever want to talk. 

“Speaking of Con, have you seen him?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Last I heard he was going out with Shawn and Brian for lunch. I assumed you were going, did you not join them?” 

“I didn’t know he left, I was waiting for him to see if he’d have a chance to join me for lunch.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I should’ve texted him.” 

Connor stands outside the room watching and listening to you. 

He looks down to the ground at the disappointment in your voice. He shuts his eyes when he remembers that he never texted you that he was headed to lunch with the boys. And curses himself at the fact that he left you alone looking for him. 

“Did you wanna stay with us until soundcheck?” Olivia asked, patting the open spot on the couch next to her. “We plan to watch more ‘I can’t stop kissing you’ pranks.” 

“Sure,” You smile walking around the couch to take a seat. 

“If I had a boyfriend and I walked up and started kissing him he’d better put whatever he’s doing down to kiss me back, I’d slap all these boys straight up for getting annoyed.” Olivia says as she clicks on the next video.

**

You were already asleep by the time Connor made it back to the bus, it was a driving night and he wanted to make sure all his gear was packed and loaded correctly. 

When he peaked into your bunk he sighed at your sleeping figure. Your headphones were in your ears, a youtube video playing on your phone. He reached over, stopping the video and closing the app. He smiled at your home screen picture, which was of him from one of the latest photo shoots for Shawn. He was filming the FLOW campaign on the side of the road, shirtless because it was hotter than hell outside, and you had snapped a picture of his side profile as he was taking a picture of Shawn. 

He looked down at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, before plugging your phone and wrapping your headphones in a circle so they don’t tangle while you sleep.

“Night Babygirl,” He whispers, smoothing your hair out over your pillow. “I love you. Sweet dreams.” He plants one more kiss to your forehead and ducks out of your bunk to let you sleep. 

He spots Shawn and wanders towards him on the couch, taking a seat and playing with his fingers. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Yeah man, what’s up?” 

“Can you explain that whole languages of love or whatever thing to me?” 

Shawn looks up from his phone, clicking it off and pocketing it. “Why?”

“I’m worried I’m not doing well enough to show her that I love her, and I know we’re different that way. So I thought if you explained it to me I might be able to understand what she needs from me. She’s been so understanding with me and my personality, and giving me the time and space I needed. But I want to give her what she needs to you know?” 

Shawn smiles, reaching over and grabbing a book from his backpack, handing it to Connor. “Read that, it’s got everything you need.” 

**

After reading that whole book Shawn gave him, watching a few of those stupid couple videos you were watching with the girls yesterday and taking what you said to heart he’s got a plan on how to show you he loves you. 

You wake to him stroking your hair, smiling down at you. “Morning Gorgeous.” 

You blush, looking around and then back up at him. “Good morning.” You say hesitantly. “Did we already make it to the venue?” 

“Yeah, just parked.” 

“Oh, am I late?” You sit up. 

“Late?” He asks, blue eyes holding a teasing tone. 

“You’re just...” You look around, hearing the rest of the team laughing just down the hall. “Are you okay?” You ask, staring at him. 

“M’perfect.” He smiles, leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss. You kiss him back, but are totally confused. 

“Am I forgetting an anniversary or something?” 

“Nope, still have 2 months and 17 days.” He shakes his head, playing with your fingers. 

You stare at him, one, in shock he knows the exact day count until your 2 year anniversary, and two, at how affectionate he is being on the bus right now. 

“Wanna have breakfast with me?” He asks looking up at you. 

“Um, yeah, where is everyone going?” You ask, pulling your phone from the charger. 

“Not sure, thought we could go somewhere just us?” He says, smiling when your head whips over. 

“Like a breakfast date?” 

“Yeah, what do you say Gorgeous? Can I take you out?” 

You blush again, biting your lip. “Are you sure everything's okay? Did you do something?” 

“Everything is fine, just wanna take my girl out, can I do that?”

“Yeah, okay. Can I get ready first?” 

“Yeah,” He nods, pecking your lips. “Hurry though.” He kisses you deeper, sighing against you.

You let your fingers thread through his hair, legs wrapping around his waist as he stands in front of your bunk. You smile against his lips when his hands sneak up under your (his) shirt.  

“Okay, I’ll hurry.” You whisper, smile never fading from your face as you jump from your bunk and rush to the bathroom. 

**

He held your hand as you both walked to a little cafe down the street. He even twirled you around a few times on your walk, laughing and smiling with you.

He spoke with you about any and everything during breakfast, offering you bites of his scrambled eggs in return for bites of your pancakes. You look like one of those cheesy rom com couples who feed each other and can’t stop giggling. 

He even goes as far to wipe your hands off for you with his napkin, planting kisses on the back and palm of your hands once he’s done. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask as he pays the check.

“What do you mean?” He hums, leaving a tip and signing his name.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re being, I don’t know, you’re being odd.” 

“Odd? Odd how?” 

“Well I mean, I can’t remember the last time you took me on a date when we were on tour. And you, you kissed me on the bus this morning. You held my hand on the way here and through most of breakfast.” 

“I think that’s called being your boyfriend.” He teases.

“No Con, be real with me. What happened?” 

“Baby what are you-” 

“You don’t do this, you don’t like PDA, you don’t-” 

“I don’t mind PDA.” He lowers his voice. “I’m not a super huge fan of people seeing our personal stuff, but I’m not against it.” 

“PDA is people seeing our personal stuff Con.” 

He looks up at you, his eyes darting between yours. “But you like it.” 

You give him a weird look. “PDA?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Who said I liked PDA?” 

“I just know that you like-”

“Wait, did someone talk to you?” 

“No, I overheard you yesterday with the girls. You made a comment about if I ever gave you that type of attention you could never be annoyed or something. And if I’m not showing you enough I’ll change that, I love you, and I can’t-” 

“Hey,” You tug at his hand that’s now clutching his hair, threading your fingers through his and smiling at him. “You show me plenty.” You kiss the pad of his thumb. “Would I complain if you held my hand while we were with the group, no. Or if you woke me up like you did today every morning, no. But I know my boy, I know how you work, I know how you love.” 

“I love you so much.” He blurts. “I don’t tell you enough, but I do love you. So fucking much. With my whole entire heart.” 

You pout at him, “Baby,” You whine. “Stop, I love you too. I know you love me. I know it Bubs.” 

“And I’ll hold your hand when we’re out. And I’ll kiss you good morning, and good night, and hello, and goodbye, and in the afternoon, and in the arenas, and on the bus.” 

“Connor.” You hush him. “You’re okay Bubbas, I promise. Don’t change because of me.” 

“Changing isn’t a bad thing,” He shakes his head. “I’m still me, I’m just me loving on you.” 

You grin, “Quoting Mendes now eh?” 

He gives you a bashful grin and shakes his head. “He’s a smart dude.” 

“He is, he hired my boyfriend.” 

Connor blushes and stares at you. “I’m so lucky.” He whispers. 

“Shut up.” You push his face to the side, spotting the crew walking down the street, Shawn holding Connor’s camera. “Connor.” 

“Yes Beautiful.” He grins. 

“Shawn has your camera.” 

“He what?” Connor whips his head around to see where you’re staring out the window. His eyes zero in on Shawn, and he’s torn. Torn between chasing Shawn down and taking his precious camera from the clumsy hands Shawn has, and staying with you, his precious girlfriend who he hasn’t shown much attention too lately.

He looks back at you, finding you already up from your seat, taking off for the door. He sits for a minute, watching you before he’s jumping up and chasing after you. 

He catches up, grabbing your hand with his, tangling your fingers together by the time you’ve met up with the crew.

“Lovebirds! You found us.” Shawn cheers. 

“Camera.” You demand, pointing to Connor’s camera. 

Shawn snickers, turning to Brian before bringing it to his eye, snapping shots of you and Connor. Connor blushes, and you hide, trying to turn away from the lens view, hiding yourself in Connor’s arm. He just chuckles leaning down to kiss your cheek and Shawn snaps multiple pictures of the moment. 

“That’s gonna be my new background.” Connor whispers in your ear, before pressing his lips to yours. 

//

Written by: @shawnm521

[rosemaryfm]

『ANYA TAYLOR JOY ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like LYDIA MONTGOMERY is here for HER JUNIOR year as a COMMUNICATIONS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be HOPEFUL, IDEALISTIC, DEPENDENT & MALLEABLE. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo. .. sorry fr switching muses so suddenly .. bt lydia will stick. i swear. as always gib this a like if u’d like 2 plot <3

TW ABANDONMENT, DEATH MENTIONS, BORDERLINE IMPLIED

aesthetics.

knee highs and platform mary janes, tulle skirts and bubbles and beads and lace, and heart-shaped mirrors and heart-shaped bruises, gaudy mirrors and gaudy faucets and gaudy frames and chandeliers and gaudy gold, handwritten love letters and kiss-stained envelopes, flowers braided in hair and dying flowers in vases and flowers pressed in between pages, vintage perfume bottles and old ballet slippers and discarded head-shots, short skirts and satin slips and tiny cardigans, melted candles and burnt fingertips and dripping wax, floral baths and beach waves and seashells and summer breezes, renaissance paintings and statues and praying hands and rosaries and empty beds, masks and identities and sobbing and crying and yearning and wishing and learning and wanting and needing and the cycle repeating and repeating and repeating.

basic info.

full name: lydia rosemary montgomery

nickname(s): lydia delia, lyds

b.o.d. - june 22nd, cancer

label(s): the allegiant, the chameleon, the crestfallen, the facade, the gregarious, the grifter, the malleable, the marionette, the neophyte, the obsequious, the rose-colored glass, the sybarite, etc. ...

height: 5′7″

hometown: new york city, new york

sexuality: bisexual

pinterest

stats

inspired by: amy march (little women), lydia bennet (pride & prejudice), lucy pevensie (narnia), daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), moira rose (schitt’s creek), karen smith (mean girls)

biography.

the product of an affair between christian montgomery, an esteemed doctor at his hospital - and one of the nurses there, allison dermont. the half sister of caleb montgomery (shoutout 2 alli!)

named after her maternal grandmother (deceased before lydia even turned one) and rosemary because it reminded allison of her childhood (rosemary always in the air, growing from pots on their porch and baked into the bread they’d eat)

growing up, lydia never knew her father. but she knew of him - her mother told her stories often of him, and the work he did to save others. built him up as a hero, a role model, someone admirable and brave and just despite the fact he’d no longer look her in the eyes when crossing paths in the hospital’s hallways. lydia idolized him.

was a very lonely child - her mother worked long hours, and babysitters were often distant. tended to attach herself to them, anyways, clinging to legs and arms and having to be peeled off and scolded (which then resulted in tantrums, of thrown toys and stomping feet and red, tearful faces)

her schoolmates were cruel to her, an easy target as a child - she followed behind the girls who seemed the most well liked, trying to mimic how they were. it’d always been a little off, and a little off-putting, and she cried often.

abandonment issues led to an obsession with perfection - as if she accomplished the most, her father would be blown away with her talents when he finally reached out. it’d always been a hope for her - her father contacting her, bringing her into his life. being a full family, loved and attended to. 

strove for the highest marks in all her classes, though there’d been hiccups here and there. she’d done ballet for a number of years before her dance instructor had essentially told her she’d never make it to a company, which led to her abruptly quitting. even put out a portfolio and contacted modeling agencies - she’d done a few small photoshoots as a teenager, but she’d never made it to anything big.

tried her hardest to act and work the part of someone important, elegant and better than who she really was. it showed in the aesthetics she indulged in (thrifted nearly everything she owned, from trinkets to her clothing) and the way she acted. in high school, she trailed behind the popular girls. molded her personality to cater to them, to be more like them. a mean girl, in a way. 

did the same when it came to boyfriends and lovers - she’d mold herself into exactly what they wanted, tried to be the perfect girlfriend for them, or sexual partner, or anything. she just wanted the attention, the love. had a myriad of relationships in high school (and it bled into college, too) where she’d give her all, and ultimately end up used and disappointed.

never felt like the first choice, only the second. always the bridemaid, never the bride. never good enough, no matter how hard she tried. but always remained hopeful - idealistic, always thinking that she’d get her turn one day. optimistic, but with lowering self-esteem and a mountain of insecurities.

became something of a habitual liar, in the process - always wanting to seem better than she was, so she lied about where she lived (instead of a measly apartment, she lived in a penthouse) and her accomplishments and her experience, and her feelings and who her parents were.

found something she was genuinely good at during her senior year of high school, when she’d chosen a fashion elective for one of her class periods. the practical aspect, she was good at - creatively? she had nothing to offer.

because of her lack of ideas, she never pursued it further. in college she chose to go into communications, specializing in public relations, though she’d never thought of actually finishing college. it was just a way for her to find a beau, to marry - to leave new york and have children. has always wanted to be a housewife with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. to be loved and held for the rest of her life.

without cliques in college, it was hard for her to find her footing among peers. joined a sorority, molded her personality once more into something they would desire, and was accepted. got a frat boyfriend until it burned out, and another, and another, until she had something of a reputation.

with all of these expenses adding up - lydia’d never wanted to work a retail job, or food service, or anything measly like that - she found use for her sewing skills in the back of npc shops. worked in a shady operation producing fake designer items. she’d been excellent at producing exact replicas.

it wasn’t a very safe job and it’d ended her up in danger on some occasions, but it paid, and she was desperate.

met caleb for the first time at his mother’s funeral and became obsessed with the idea of having a brother, of being closer to her father somehow. cyberstalked him as much as she could and found radcliffe, where she eventually transferred to when caleb had decided to go back. practically followed him like a lost dog.

got into perkins because she literally pre-wrote her essay to get in and basically sobbed her story in front of secretaries and deans and housing faculty until she’d been granted permission to move in.

currently interning at a company where she has control over their social media accounts, alongside a team of other interns. when she’s feeling particularly upset she’ll post passive aggressive or straight up distraught, distressing messages (tweets, captions, etc.) on their official accounts, sometimes featuring the mascot of the company/brand. they haven’t figured out its her, yet.

personality.

i won’t lie. she’s a bit of a mess. 

constantly changes her personality to fit whoever she’s talking to, desperate for their approval in even the most minimal ways. consistently lies about literally ... whatever, sometimes for no reason, if it’ll make her seem cooler or better in some way. type of person who wants to one-up others.

excessive, in that way. clingy and pushy, she tends to latch onto people and designate her ‘favorites’ - their opinion means the world to her, and when it falters she essentially crumbles as a person.

pretty fragile as a person - emotional, and unable to be yelled at because she’ll wind up crying. takes a lot of things very personally, and always accuses herself as being the problem, which leads to her changing aspects of herself.

loves often, and viciously, will fall for someone at the drop of a hat. yearns, often. sulks often, too.

still has a ballerina’s posture, model’s demeanor, very upright and it could be mistaken as intimidating, though the facade cracks immediately when she speaks. loves gossip and unintentionally - or, intentionally - spreads it at the drop of a hat.

can get very possessive, and jealous, and outright mean. very highly defensive at times, when pushed (it doesn’t take much to push her)

sentimental to a fault - she still has her last pair of ballet slippers despite the fact that she’d dropped that pursuit when she was fifteen.

her room is adorned with mirrors, handheld and mountable and tabletop - they’re all heart-shaped.

has an obsession with hearts, actually, and florals, and gold, when it comes to decor. has hanging plants and flowers falling from her ceiling. her sink is a gold swan (her favorite animals are swans) faucet that she paid to get installed without permission from perkins.

basically her decor is very gaudy. loves fur coats and silk slips and mini skirts, brandy melville, platforms and socks. very specific style that she doesn’t falter from, often.

takes baths often to distress but setting them up is an hour-long process in itself, flowers and herbs and candles surrounding her tub. she’ll stay in there until she’s pruny and the water’s gone cold.

likes to garner sympathy when she can - though she herself tends to be a very sympathetic, compassionate, person. cries for others even when they’re not crying themselves. it’s a lot. tends to make things about herself, in some way.

a smoker, and a bad one at that, does it whenever she feels the slightest amount of stress. she’s very stressed, very often.

likes the aesthetic of art, like renaissance paintings and roman statues, but isn’t deeply knowledgeable on them.

very impressionable, easy to impress, and is loyal to a definite fault. doesn’t tend to give up on people, and holds out for the best.

a dreamer, excessively hopeful and idealistic - is often let down. wears rose-colored glasses and doesn’t see it, anyways. can be vicious, but ultimately just wants to be loved. obsessed with the idea of it.

very finicky and picky, but is also? a hypocrite? says she’s a vegan but she isn’t - she has indulged in mcdonalds nuggets more than once.

very materialistic in that she loves high-end things that she ... can’t afford, but is also financially irresponsible and loves to spend her money on things she absolutely doesn’t need. selfish and immature, at times.

vastly insecure, likes reassurance. double texts. overthinks. romanticizes.

laughs when she’s nervous - laughs a lot.

patient until she’s impatient, the reason why she burns her tongue and the roof of her mouth so often on hot teas and coffee and treats.

is either over-prepared or under-prepared; over-prepared in academics, always doing the upmost she can do (still a perfectionist) and under-prepared when it comes to dressing out - never wears a jacket and is always cold (anemic, too) because she’s hoping that a handsome stranger will give her theirs’

wishes on dandelion puffs and shooting stars and each and every 11:11, wishes for a lot of things - they never come true, but she keeps wishing.

loves romance novels, and period / historical dramas/romances especially. like, frankly obsessed

has a collection of erotica novels, too.

sleeps around often but there’s no guarantee that she won’t get attached to who she’s sleeping with.

la croix fan :/

got onto the cheer team the same way she got into perkins. crying to the coach. but she does have immaculate form, so.

can’t say no to anybody, about anything and for anything its a genuine Problem she feels like she always Has to do what people ask because that’s how you get people to like you (no it isnt!)

tdlr; she listens to marina and the diamonds, lana del rey, and mitski far more than any normal fucking person would and that should be enough to describe her.

wanted connections.

okay so i kind of imagine her as being New to radcliffe so these may not be instantaneous but.

a ride or die... someone tht she wld probably die fr at the drop of a pin or w/e, they dn’t have to be Her ride or die though,, y’know what i mean

bad influences... she’s very impressionable and wants to fit in with people... they cld get her to do anything...

people she annoys... she does that a lot :/ she’s just intense. high care. needy.

friends! just friends... please ... give her friends ... she’ll lay down her life for them ...

a drug dealer... y’know ... just fr funsies.

party pals... needless 2 say ...

unrequited feelings... mostly if not entirely on her part, because she’ll ‘fall in love’ with just about anybody

attachments... that she has on other people. just won’t quit!

new yorkians... who might’ve known her in her youth! she went to a public school.

associated with caleb... people who only know her because she’s caleb’s bastard sister

bad time... something went wrong along the way of their friendship and now it’s ... super bad ... 

enemies... she’ll probably cry to your face or maybe even yell at u! who knows! u hate each other.

perkins roommate... i repeat, mayhaps a perkins roommate? who got thrust with her in the middle of the semester?

something soft... idk what ... cld be cute

the world is our oyster ... we can always brainstorm too... idk!! she’s new in town!! john mulaney vc !!

[makistar2018]

Why Taylor Swift Has No Problem Defending Herself—No Matter the Cost

by BILLY NILLES Jul. 2, 2019

As Taylor Swift approaches her upcoming 30th birthday, happening on December 13 of this year, she's begun taking stock of the things she's learned over the course of her first three decades on the planet. In March, she let fans in on a handful of them—30 of them, to be exact—via a self-penned piece in Elle and near the very top, perhaps belying its importance to the superstar, is the following:

"Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life's worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you."

As the last few years have proven, Swift has certainly grown unafraid to bite as a means of defending herself and the things she believes in. Not bad for someone whose so-called silence invited accusations of standing for nothing from critics.

Take this weekend's response to the news that celebrity music manager Scooter Braun, whose list of past and present clientele includes Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande, Kanye West and Demi Lovato, was the new owner of her entire music catalogue, thanks to his media holding company Ithaca Holdings LLC. reaching a "finalized" contract" with Big Machine Label Group, Swift's former record label, to acquire the company. The deal, made for a reported $300 million, includes Big Machine Music, which means that Braun retain ownership of the master recordings of each of the six albums she's released to date, as well as music from other artists such as Reba McEntire, Sheryl Crow and Lady Antebellum. And, as Swift admitted in an incendiary Tumblr post, it left her feeling "sad and grossed out."

After explaining that she'd hoped to own her work prior to departing Big Machine for Universal Music Group (Big Machine's distributor) in November of last year, only to be offered a deal to "'earn' one album back at a time, one for every new one I turned in," as she wrote, she walked away from her past so that her future wouldn't be tied to a company that founder Scott Borchetta was clearly intent on selling to the highest bidder.

Jun Sato/TAS18/Getty Images

"Some fun facts about today's news: I learned about Scooter Braun's purchase of my masters as it was announced to the world," she wrote. "All I could think about was the incessant, manipulative bullying I've received at his hands for years."

As she explained in her post, she felt that Scooter's fingerprints were all over West and wife Kim Kardashian West's attempts to assassinate her character in the aftermath of the "Famous" lyrics debacle, which infamously find the rapper claiming that he "made that bitch famous," appearing in a screenshot of a FaceTime call between Bieber and West that the former shared with the since-deleted caption "Taylor swift what up" that she believes was intended to "bully [her] online about it" and allowing then-client West to release "a revenge porn music video which strips my body naked."

"Essentially, my musical legacy is about to lie in the hands of someone who tried to dismantle it. This is my worst case scenario. This is what happens when you sign a deal at 15 to someone for whom the term 'loyalty' is clearly just a contractual concept. And when that man says, 'Music has value,' he means its value is beholden to men who had no part in creating it," she continued. "When I left my masters in Scott's hands, I made peace with the fact that eventually he would sell them. Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine the buyer would be Scooter. Any time Scott Borchetta has heard the words 'Scooter Braun' escape my lips, it was when I was either crying or trying not to. He knew what he was doing; they both did. Controlling a woman who didn't want to be associated with them. In perpetuity. That means forever."

Taylor's move to take the two men involved in the deal to task has, predictably, drawn a line in the sand in the music industry, with folks like Brendon Urie, Halsey, Iggy Azalea, BFF Todrick Hall and other BFF Selena Gomezs mom Mandy Teefey publicly supporting Swift, while Bieber, Lovato, and Scooter's wife Yael Cohen Braun, who accused Swift of bullying her husband by going public with her beef, thereby sending her fan base his way, coming out in support of him.

While the minutiae of the deal and who knew about what when remains unclear, with Borchetta and Cohen Braun both furnishing receipts of some sort in their rebuttals to Swift that challenge her timeline, what is clear is that Swift is speaking up not just to shine a light on an injustice she's experiencing, but also to prevent other impressionable artistic youth from falling prey to the same sort of contract she willingly signed back in her early teens.

"Thankfully, I left my past in Scott's hands and not my future," she wrote. "And hopefully, young artists or kids with musical dreams will read this and learn about how to better protect themselves in a negotiation. You deserve to own the art you make."

It's hardly the first time that Swift has vociferously defended herself while also trying to move the needle forward for those less fortunate than her, be they artists or women in general.

Back in 2013, Swift informed bosses at Denver's KYGO-FM that morning show personality David Mueller had sexually assaulted her, groping her at a meet-and-greet event as they posed for a photo alongside Mueller's then-girlfriend Shannon Melchor. "When we were posing for the photo, he stuck his hand up my dress and grabbed onto my ass cheek," she explained to TIME in 2017. "I squirmed and lurched sideways to get away from him, but he wouldn't let go. At the time, I was headlining a major arena tour and there were a number of people in the room that saw this plus a photo of it happening. I figured that if he would be brazen enough to assault me under these risky circumstances and high stakes, imagine what he might do to a vulnerable, young artist if given the chance. It was important to report the incident to his radio station because I felt like they needed to know. The radio station conducted its own investigation and fired him."

Two years after the radio host saw his employment status at the station go from "current" to "former," he filed suit against Swift, accusing her of lying and suing him for making him lose his job. He wanted $3 million in damages. As result, she brought a countersuit against Mueller for assault and battery, taking him to trial.

AP Photo/Jeff Kandyba

By 2017, she was on the stand, showing an unflappable, steely determination to defend herself in the face of a man who'd wronged her and a legal team intent on discrediting her. When asked why the photos of the incident didn't show the front of her skirt wrinkled as evidence of any wrongdoing, she answered plainly, "Because my ass is located at the back of my body." When she was asked if she felt guilty about Mueller losing his job, she responded, "I'm not going to let you or your client make me feel in any way that this is my fault. Here we are years later, and I'm being blamed for the unfortunate events of his life that are the product of his decisions—not mine."

In the end, the jury threw out Mueller's unfair dismissal case, ruling in Swift's favor, awarding the singer the symbolic $1 dollar she'd asked for. In a statement released after the verdict was rendered, she said, "I acknowledge the privilege that I benefit from in life, in society and in my ability to shoulder the enormous cost of defending myself in a trial like this. My hope is to help those whose voices should also be heard. Therefore, I will be making donations in the near future to multiple organizations that help sexual assault victims defend themselves."

A year later, Swift spoke to fans during a Tampa, Fla. stop on her Reputation Stadium Tour about the incident, thanking them for sticking by her during a "really, really horrible" time in her life. "I just think about all the people that weren't believed, or the people who haven't been believed, or the people who are afraid to speak up because they don't think they will be believed," Swift said. "And I just want to say that I'm sorry to everyone who ever wasn't believed because I don't know what turn my life would have taken if people hadn't believed in me when I said that something happened."

Over the years, Swift has also used her superstar muscle to advocate for what she believes she and all other artists deserve during this streaming revolution. In 2014, after penning an article for the Wall Street Journal in which she argued that "music should not be free" and that artists shouldn't "underestimate themselves or undervalue their art," she pulled her entire discography from Spotify.

"Music is changing so quickly, and the landscape of the music industry itself is changing so quickly, that everything new, like Spotify, all feels to me a bit like a grand experiment," Swift told Yahoo that November, defending her position. "And I'm not willing to contribute my life's work to an experiment that I don't feel fairly compensates the writers, producers, artists and creators of this music. And I just don't agree with perpetuating the perception that music has no value and should be free."

A year later, Swift spoke to fans during a Tampa, Fla. stop on her Reputation Stadium Tour about the incident, thanking them for sticking by her during a "really, really horrible" time in her life. "I just think about all the people that weren't believed, or the people who haven't been believed, or the people who are afraid to speak up because they don't think they will be believed," Swift said. "And I just want to say that I'm sorry to everyone who ever wasn't believed because I don't know what turn my life would have taken if people hadn't believed in me when I said that something happened."

Over the years, Swift has also used her superstar muscle to advocate for what she believes she and all other artists deserve during this streaming revolution. In 2014, after penning an article for the Wall Street Journal in which she argued that "music should not be free" and that artists shouldn't "underestimate themselves or undervalue their art," she pulled her entire discography from Spotify.

"Music is changing so quickly, and the landscape of the music industry itself is changing so quickly, that everything new, like Spotify, all feels to me a bit like a grand experiment," Swift told Yahoo that November, defending her position. "And I'm not willing to contribute my life's work to an experiment that I don't feel fairly compensates the writers, producers, artists and creators of this music. And I just don't agree with perpetuating the perception that music has no value and should be free."

Instagram

The following June, she penned an open letter to fans, explaining why they wouldn't be able to find her latest album, 1989, wouldn't be made available on Apple Music once the service launched. As she explained, her issue lay with Apple Music's decision not to pay artists during its free three-month trial for users to sign up. "I'm not sure you know that Apple Music will not be paying writers, producers, or artists for those three months. I find it to be shocking, disappointing, and completely unlike this historically progressive and generous company," she wrote, adding that she was speaking on behalf of fellow musicians who had some hesitation at speaking out against the tech company.

"These are not the complaints of a spoiled, petulant child. These are the echoed sentiments of every artist, writer and producer in my social circles who are afraid to speak up publicly because we admire and respect Apple so much. We simply do not respect this particular call," she added. "We don't ask you for free iPhones. Please don't ask us to provide you with our music for no compensation."

A day later, Apple announced that it would, indeed, be paying artists during the free trial period."When I woke up this morning and saw what Taylor had written, it really solidified that we needed a change," Apple's senior vice president of internet services and software Eddy Cue told Billboard in an interview after tweeting that the company was changing course. "And so that's why we decide we will now pay artists during the trial period."

By 2017, in time to celebrate 1989 selling over 10 million albums worldwide and, maybe, to tweak then-frenemy Katy Perry's launch of new album Witness, Swift's music was back on Spotify and added to Amazon Music and Google Play as well.

At every turn, Swift has revealed herself to be someone who has certainly found that backbone she wrote about in Elle. After West claimed he made her famous, he accepted Album of the Year at the 58th Grammy Awards with a speech that didn't mention the rapper by name, but spoke to him just the same. "As the first woman to win Album of the Year at the Grammys twice, I wanna say to all the young women out there: There are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success, or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame," she said. "But if you just focus on the work and you don't let those people sidetrack you, someday when you get where you're going, you'll look around and you'll know that it was you and the people who love you that put you there, and that will be the greatest feeling in the world."

When Kardashian West branded her a snake as she shared the questionably-recorded audio of a phone call between Swift and West as he was crafting "Famous," she took the animal iconography on as a central motif in her next album and tour, which became the highest-grossing domestic tour by a woman ever.

"A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet," Swift wrote in Elle. "The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I've ever felt in my life, but I can't tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It's the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll's hateful Instagram comment with 'lol.'"

When speaking with a German news outlet to promote new single "ME!" in May, she was asked if her 30th birthday meant she was going to settle down, get married and have kids soon. She shut that s--t down, saying, "I really do not think men are asked that question when they turn 30. So I'm not going to answer that."

As she's become more politically active, endorsing progressive candidates in her adopted home state of Tennessee, emphatically calling out President Trump, and advocating on behalf of the LGBTQIA community during this most recent Pride Month, after years of being criticized for sitting silently on the sidelines, she's opened herself up to criticism from those who wish their pop stars would shut up—unless they're spouting views identical to their own, of course. But it's no different to the criticism she faced when she was silent, or when she dared to demand fair compensation for her art, or when she simply wanted to be believed as a victim of sexual assault. All of which she's learned to look past.

"I learned to block some of the noise," she wrote in Elle. "Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren't, how you're failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments...I'm also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to 'go die in a hole ho' while I'm having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it's healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once."

As for those in real life who are bringing her strife—like, say, Braun and Borchetta, currently—she's got a plan for dealing with that, as well.

"Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it," she wrote. "Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn't cruel. It's just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it."

In other words, put quite simply, she's learned how to shake it off.

E! News

[dominaecaede]

Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter 1 results: 70% chose to stick together

Chapter 2: Sanctuary

After a minute of debate, Midoriya came to a decision. He was hesitant to say anything at first because he knew it would upset his friend, but they also have to think about their current situation.

With a gentle motion, the greenette put a hand on Todoroki's shoulder.

"I know you're worried about your mother, Todoroki-kun... I'm worried about mine, too," Midoriya began. "But we need to find shelter, first. If we found her, then where would she stay?"

Todoroki was quiet, his eyebrows furrowed. His silver and teal eyes shifted to the ground and his hair acting as a barrier from his face. Midoriya then noticed his fists were clenching.

"Fine," was all he said.

The half toned boy ripped his shoulder from his friend's grasp and began walking from his proximity. Midoriya felt surprised.

"Todoroki-ku--!"

"I said, FINE." Todoroki continued to walk on, not even turning around to look at Midoriya or anyone.

The greenette looked down, letting his hand fall back to his side. All Might came towards him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let him be, young Midoriya. He needs his space."

Midoriya had always hated disappointing or hurting his friends, so even with All Might's assurance, he still felt guilty. He then began to head for Uraraka and his mother, helping them up. He didn't have to say anything for the two females to understand. The class began to walk as they followed their teacher's lead, keeping their guard up with what bravery they could dig up.

Everyone felt so defenseless and weak. Without quirks to protect them and weapon stores ransacked by the time they got there, they didn't know what to do except run and hide. It seemed like hours before they found a secure place to hide out. Kaminari had found an empty pharmacy that looked like it hadn't been completely wiped clean. Aizawa was surprised that those things didn't come in either, and the door was wide open.

All Might quickly closed the door and locked it, Sato helping to block it just in case. Aizawa closed the blinds and turned on the switch, sighing in relief.

"We'll stay here for tonight. Everyone, check for supplied that might help us get comfortable," Aizawa instructed.

Kirishima blinked. "There should be a storage room in here somewhere, right? Bakugou and I will start looking!"

"OI! Don't tell me what to do, shitty hair!" Bakugou growled.

Even though Bakugou barked up a storm and Kirishima remaining calm, the two boys began searching. Momo was walking around the store with Jirou and Mina while Uraraka stayed with her mother. Midoriya couldn't blame her for not wanting to leave her side. Tsuyu softened her eyes at the sight and decided to sit next to Uraraka for support.

A voice came up from behind the greenette and tapped his shoulder. "Hey, Midoriya?"

"Hm?" Midoriya turned around and looked at someone he didn't seem to recognize. "Oh, hello! Were... Were you already hiding up here? I'm sorry, we didn't think anyone was here..."

The girl blinked. "Uh... Midoriya, it's me. Hagakure Tooru!"

Midoriya grew wide eyes. "O-Oh! Hagakure-san! I-I didn't recognize you, I'm sorry!"

Hagakure couldn't help but chuckle. Without her quirk, Midoriya admitted she was really pretty. She had wavy black hair parted in the middle with light lavender eyes.

"It's okay, I understand! I was just gonna tell you that I found the aisle where they keep camping supplies and there's a lot of sleeping bags! I figured it would help us get comfy!"

Midoriya lit up. "That's great! Thank you, but you should also let Aizawa-sensei and All Might know!"

Hagakure nodded and went to do so. While everyone was doing something useful, Mineta on the other hand was doing something questionable. "Look guys, I hit the jackpot!!"

The small ball-headed boy held up a magazine with a woman in a bikini on the cover. However, Aizawa instantly snatched it from his hands and gave him The Look™, and Mineta instantly sat down.

It wasn't too long before Kirishima and Bakugou came back, and judging from the huge smile on the redhead's face, he has good news.

"You guys should take a look at the storage room! There's a bunch of unstocked junk that might be useful. There's even a bunch of snacks and frozen TV dinners!"

"That I found," Bakugou sneered.

Midoriya lit up once again. "You guys are awesome, thanks!"

--

Hours went by and it got dark. The TV was working, but after they saw that the news with "Zombies Breakout: Find Shelter Immediately" captioned on the bottom, they decided to turn it off. Everyone had something to eat already, but everyone except one. After Midoriya threw away his trash, he looked over at Todoroki, who was sitting by himself in a corner where no one would bother him. Tsuyu came up and her eyes followed where Midoriya was looking, sighing.

"You should bring some food to him, Midoriya-chan... he hasn't eaten at all...," the spruce haired girl said quietly.

Midoriya didn't respond, but he nodded to show he listened. The greenette took a container of frozen chicken, warmed it up, and brought it over to his friend. He took slow steps... Quiet steps, and slowly sat down next to him.

"Todoroki-kun...," he began, setting the food next to him. "H... Here. You haven't eaten at all, so..."

But the half-toned boy didn't even look up. His face was still on the ground, his legs in a criss cross position. Midoriya wasn't going to force him to talk. He then stood up again.

"I understand. But... we have to stay strong. You have to stay strong... for her," the greenette then smiled. "You're still a hero, after all."

The greenette turned around to walk away until Todoroki finally spoke up.

"You know... She said almost the exact same words. My mother," he said. Midoriya blinked and sat down next to him again to listen. "She told me to stay strong, too. That I could be the person I wanted to be. If I can't save her...," he trailed off.

Midoriya looked down. It was quiet for a minute or so. He then opened his mouth to speak, but his friend spoke up again.

"That's why I'm going to save her. Tonight."

Midoriya shot up at him. Luckily the room was loud so no one else heard him, but nevertheless, he was in disbelief.

"T-Todoroki-kun, that's crazy! We have nothing to defend ourselves! No weapons, nothing to protect--"

"Look, I'm going. You can either come with me, or stay out of my way," Todoroki looked up, giving Midoriya a firm look. "Now, what's it gonna be?"

Midoriya gave a worried look. Should he:

• go with Todoroki?

• or convince him to stay?

[dcarevu]

Batman TAS: Vendetta

“Alfred! You’re beautiful!”

Episode: 23 Robin: No Writer: Michael Reaves Director: Frank Paur Animator: Spectrum Airdate: October 5, 1992 Grade: B

I love it when in Batman media, we get to see Batman solving mysteries. Particularly when it’s a little bit more involved than Batman simply putting something into his computer and having it shit out an automatic answer for him. I like to see him investigating a crime-scene, interrogating thugs, and exploring new areas. That is exactly what we got to see in the episode Vendetta, as Batman tries to figure out who is seemingly axing off different convicts that share some dark connections with Harvey Bullock. Because of these connections, along with some framing and some false evidence, Batman suspects that Harvey himself could be the one causing trouble, a concept that I feel was begging to be done. Bullock often suspects Batman as not only being untrustworthy, but sometimes even having a hand in specific crimes (see On Leather Wings). Here it is a reverse situation. Harvey didn’t do anything wrong (as Commissioner Gordon insisted to Batman, letting him know that Bullock is a good cop), so Batman, instead of immediately blaming him and going after him, takes his time, trying to make sure that he has the mystery solved. This highlights one of Bullock’s flaws, and that is his pride (which we have mentioned before). Once he suspects something, he has too much pride to consider other possibilities. And sometimes, these suspicions of his can get him into a lot of trouble like in the episode P.O.V. Batman, on the other hand, is much more unbiased when he is at work. And even though he heavily suspected Bullock, in the end, he was willing to admit that he was mistaken to Bullock’s face. Bullock, obviously foreign to this respectable behavior, seemed confused, but perhaps it was enough to maybe teach him a thing or two. Batman’s little speech at the end was really nice too, and it shows that even though he feels similar about Bullock to how Commissioner Gordon feels, that he’s stubborn and hard to work with, he still respects him on some level. He knows that Bullock wants what is best for the city, and that he believes in keeping crime down while keeping innocent people safe. They both have questionable ways of working with the law too. Bullock can be slimy, sneaky, and willing to break some of the rules. So can Batman. But one major difference is that Bullock is an official employee, while Batman isn’t. Yet another thing that he is incredibly proud of. He also seemed to assume that Batman wouldn’t ever bother helping out someone like him, as if they were enemies. He didn’t seem to understand that Batman wants the same basic things that he does. The two could probably work pretty well together if they tried. And I’m not going to pretend that Batman can’t be just as stubborn as Bullock. He’s the protagonist, so we may not notice it as much (we get more insight on him), but we are sure to notice a lot of Bullock-like qualities that he possesses as we move much further into the DCAU, when he meets up with some future protagonists. Batman can be a dick, guys. But that’s a discussion for another day. I’ll just leave it with saying that I think as Batman gets more jaded and as things around him start changing, he gets much more disgruntled.

“Why’d you stick your neck out like that to help me?”

“We may have different ways of enforcing the law, but we both believe in it.”

Speaking of disgruntled, Killer Croc makes his first appearance here, and it is pretty satisfactory. When I first saw this episode (my dad watched it with me, by the way, alleviating the pain of him only seeing I’ve Got Batman in My Basement and The Forgotten prior), I already knew who Croc was, and had already seen an episode with him, so the buildup was not nearly as strong. For Char, I think it was more elevated, as I don’t think she was expecting him. She was familiar with his Suicide Squad design, though, so it was hard for her not to compare it with this more ugly one. Yeah, I don’t know about Croc’s design. I’m pretty used to it, so it doesn’t bother me, but I have heard others say that they’re not really a fan. He only kinda looks crocodile-like, and I think that is because of the more subdued, realistic approach that this show was initially going for. I tend to prefer the hulking mass that we get to see in Arkham Asylum, which is significantly scarier. In this episode, we see the fear in the convicts’ eyes as they witness the strange-looking, reptilian man, and I think that it ends up being a little anticlimactic, especially since he doesn’t kill them or anything (on top of looking the way he does). Taking all that into consideration, the episode would have gotten an A most likely if the issue was fixed. Buuuut, I do like Croc as a villain, despite this. He has an interesting enough backstory, he creates a challenge for Batman, he has a cool habitat, and his personality is fine. He’s definitely not a sympathetic villain like Freeze or Two-Face, but Harvey Bullock was the one with the focus this time. It makes sense that Killer Croc would serve more as that scary, mysterious threat which lurks around in the water, stalking and capturing him. Too much insight can take away from the intimidation. Also, not every villain in real life has all that much depth to them. As long as the episode is still entertaining and has other qualities to take the place of the intense feels (and this episode does indeed), then it’s perfectly reasonable that not every villain in Gotham would either. Sometimes you just need an evil guy, with an evil plan, and a cool gimmick.

Oh, Spectrum is back with the animation. This is weird because, again, I thought they went under after Heart of Ice which was a handful of episodes back now. Also, this episode isn’t quite up to snuff with a lot of the things that they’ve done. I noticed some recycled animation, some weird models, and overall a cheaper-feeling quality. But it’s not Akom-level stuff either, it’s closer to Dong Yang, which is 100% fine by me. I’m trying not to be spoiled. This is a 90’s television show, aimed at kids, which had an accompanying toy line. How much can I really expect? So while not very recognizable as Spectrum, it is still beyond passable, and the directing/storyboarding was a highlight (take a look at some of the below screenshots).

Do these look like Spectrum drawings to you?

This one is a little more like it. 

I like the bit where Commissioner Gordon dumps out his nasty coffee. Another little bit of character.

Croc’s hand reaching out of the water. “Hayyyy, guys! Can I get a lift?”

This still doesn’t do the intensity of this guy’s fear any justice. His sudden gasp was one of pure panic.

These types of blue colors are incredibly common in Batman TAS. The team couldn’t always use the variety in colors that they wanted. They were pushing the budget as it was.

This section confused me a little bit. We see Bullock toss a toothpick to the ground. But later, the toothpick is treated as though Croc planted it to frame him. It must have been a different toothpick, right? This is not communicated very clearly. And I don’t know, how would Croc have known that Bullock would have a toothpick on him? How would he know that others would notice? And how well known for carrying a toothpick around is Bullock, exactly?

A great shot. 

The planted toothpick. Or maybe it’s actually the one Bullock dropped. I’m not entirely sure. 

We see lightning flash, engulfing Bullock in light. It looks awesome in motion because we don’t linger on it. Although one thing that bugs me about cartoons is that we always hear the thunder boom at the exact time that the lightning strikes, which is generally not what we experience.

Look at those reflections. Another cool use of lightning. We need a Top 10 Lightning Strikes post eventually I think. Hmm...

There was nothing like this on TV at the time.

Just an s short of being a Psycho reference.

This might be the first time that we see how the entrance to the Batcave works? Oddly, we hear the clock ticking in this scene. I wonder if the hands move. And if they do, there has to be some function to prevent the door from opening  when it reaches 12 normally. I’ll bet that Alfred is the one who has to fix the time.

I love how the camera slowly pans as we see them coming down the stairs, with the computer system in view. I’d love to hang out in the Batcave. 

Another scary Croc entrance. Fitting that this episode aired in October.

“Ah, turnips.”

Awesome shadow work. For no other reason than that it looks awesome and makes Batman look hella intimidating. This is why people fear him.

Batman smacks the plant out of his hands. Get the gross vegetables out of his face!

“I’ve got plenty of answers. .38 caliber answers.”

“You’d better hope your men are very good shots.” I’m sure you guys can come up with many alternative captions for this screenshot.

Batman’s nose is a little crazy here. He’d look more like a bird if the ears were missing. 

This scene made me chuckle. A false Harvey Dent walks in, dropping wet. Like, yup, that’s him alright. Nothing nefarious going on at all.

Gotta feel a little bad for him, even if you don’t like him.

“Alfred! You’re beautiful!” Best moment.

See, I mean, he looks okay. Just not the best Croc design out there.

Hmmm.. Recycled segment.

Now these are some Spectrum shots!

A really cool Batman entrance. 

Char’s grade: B

Next time: Fear of Victory Full episode list here!

[2ptonpt]

You Look Happier

Masterlist 

This work is technically part five of a seven part series based on songs from Ed Sheeran’s album, Divide. This chapter and “I was Happier with You” can be read without the other chapters though.

Rami x Reader

Word Count: 3,120

Thirty days. Thirty days, twelve hours, and fifteen minutes since he had watched you walk out of your shared apartment. He tried not to recall the exact second you walked out. How utterly defeated and ruined you looked as you turned away broke his heart, but he didn’t have the courage to try to fix it.

He’d been walking down the street to O’Reilly’s for a couple drinks with some old Mr. Robot cast-mates when he looked up from his shoes and noticed you and Joe about thirty feet ahead of him. Joe had his arm wrapped around your waist, hand in your back pocket. Where his used to rest. Rami chastised himself briefly before shifting his eyes from your jean-clad back pockets to the rest of your frame. He couldn’t see your face from his point of view, but he could tell from the way you carried yourself that you were in a much better state from when he last saw you. You looked happier.

He realized too late that you and Joe were headed into O’Reilly’s as well. He slowed his steps, making sure you two didn’t see him. He skidded to a stop as Joe pulled at your back pocket with his hand, throwing you into a quick spin as he captured your lips in a quick, chaste kiss before he opened the door for you. You laughed loudly, the laugh that made Rami’s insides melt. That sharp, bark of a laugh escaped from you when you found something obnoxiously funny; like the pocket spin. How many times you had mentioned to him that you were in love with that scene from that movie your cousin was in. He had been listening, always planning on trying it with you, but never got the chance. 

Joe pulled out a chair for you at a table for two at the far corner of the bar. Rami watched from the doorway as a waiter came and took your orders. As he left, Joe leaned over and whispered something in your ear. You covered your mouth with your hand to cover a blush and Rami couldn’t help but notice the pale line wrapping around your ring finger where his ring used to sit. You removed your hand before he could dwell on it any longer and the two of you shared a smile. You and Joe giggled for a moment before erupting in loud laughter, grabbing the attention of some of the other patrons. You both looked so God damned happy. He was trying to remember the last time you and him had looked that happy, but was having a hard time at the heaviness taking over his fond memories of your long relationship.

How could he have hurt you like he did? He didn’t mean any of it. Honestly.

~*’*~*’*~*’*~

Bohemian Rhapsody star Rami Malek; a CHEATER??

Marvel actress YFN YLN stays quiet about the Malek/Boynton affair.

Malek neither confirms nor denies allegations of affair with Bohemian Rhapsody co-star, Lucy Boynton.

Lucy and Rami seen together shopping at CARTIER. Where is YN???

@ighandle1: I can’t believe he would do this?! He seems so sweet! Lucy a lil hoe.

@ighandle2: She needs to dump his ass. She can do soooo much better.

@ighandle3: I doubt Rami would do this, he’s too sweet and Lucy and YN seemed like they got along from their instagrams. He and YN are perfect for each other. I hope you can work it out @ramimalek @itsyagirlynn

@ighandle4: With YN’s reputation before she started dating him I thought she’d be the cheater. But I’m not surprised. People suck. Karma’s a bitch, @ramimalek. @itsyagirlynn im single ;)

You were physically sick just looking at your phone. You always knew that being an actress would have its trying times with the press and social media, but you never thought that you’d be caught up in a disaster like this. You figured you’d accidentally leak a Marvel secret like Mark or Tom. There was the short-lived rumor between you and fellow co-star Sebastian Stan; but honestly, you two had been quick to shut down those nasty rumors.

Even Cam - Sebastian’s wife and fellow Marvel actress - had released a statement, tagging you, Rami, and Sebastian, stating that every single rumor was false and no one could convince her otherwise that one of her best friends could or would cheat on her with her own husband. And how obviously in love you and Rami were. The picture she posted was of you and Rami behind the scenes of your engagement photo shoot.

You had been very outspoken during the whole Sebastian rumors, responding to the earlier rumors with satire. A cheeky, clearly staged photo of you and Seb hugging tightly as Cameron glared at the two of you with her arms crossed over her chest in the background. You were all in your respective outfits for the Marvel Short you were filming for that day. Rami wasn’t a part of that particular impromptu photoshoot, but made sure to comment an equally funny response to your caption.

@itsyagirlynn: miss steal yo man! @imcammystan Americans do it better! Aussies stink!

@ramimalek: Baby, @itsyagirlynn why you do me so cold?  Though tbh how could I compare to THE Winter Soldier? @imsebastianstan, @imcammystan I warned you about her! She’s crazy!

@imcammystan: What ever will I do?! :’( Guess @anthony_mackie will have to keep me company from now on.

@imsebastianstan: Can’t everyone just get along. There’s enough of me to go around. Except for you @anthony_mackie, you get none of this.

@anthony_mackie: I mean I won’t say no @imcammystan. Ya snooze ya lose @imsebastianstan. @itsyagirlynn, why don’t you come to the real winners here?

You blew air out of your nose, recalling how much Rami and your co-stars had laughed that night at dinner after you were done on set. The media and fans were having a field day with it. Your small smile faded from your lips after a few breaths. That had been over year ago. Things were different then. Rami had just been called back for the casting of Freddie for Bohemian Rhapsody. The fans and media knew nothing about the movie yet. Things had been simpler then. You had been engaged for about a year, with no wedding date set in stone due to both of your busy schedules but that hadn’t bothered either of you.

Of course you knew that the allegations were false. Rami would never cheat on you. You would never cheat on him. Hell, you had admitted to feeling sick every time you had to kiss someone on camera. To your relief, Rami had the same reservations about on-screen romances. Not to mention, Lucy had quickly become one of your closest friends while you tagged along on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody; your contract for Marvel easing up a bit until twenty-twenty.

You thought fondly about all the beautiful memories you had of everyone involved in your life during the past year. Late nights with Rami, Ben, Joe, Gwil, and Lucy that turned into mornings… Impromptu jam sessions with the Roger Taylor and Brian May… Naps with Joe, Gwil, and Ben as Rami and Lucy shot their Mary and Freddie scenes. It was probably one of the best years of your life, besides the year that Rami had nervously admitted his feelings towards you. You’d made new friends, and learned a lot about one of your favorite bands. It was heaven. That was, until it wasn’t.

About halfway through the press tours for your fiancée’s newest movie, rumors had started circulating about Rami and Lucy. You knew they were just that - rumors. But what had bothered you most about the whole thing was the absolute silence coming from Rami. In private, behind closed doors and between friends, he was very vocal about the fact that Lucy and he were just friends. You had no doubt in that; but on social media and during interviews Rami was very tight-lipped and shy about the whole ordeal. To be honest you were a little miffed about his whole persona in the public eye.

You had been very vocal all over social media and the press interviews about how absurd the rumors about you and Seb had been. Why couldn’t he do the same? You knew his anxiety got the best of him sometimes, but he usually was good about supporting you and backing you up with anything; press-related or not. The fact that Rami had been quieter than normal was unnerving.

You had voiced your concerns to Joe, since he had kept in contact the most since the boys had finished press tours. He only lived a few blocks down from you and Rami, so he was over at your apartment often. You had known him for years, you’d met during your sophomore year of high school after you’d moved from Brooklyn to California for your dad’s job. You had stayed in touch over email and phone ever since, reconnecting when you moved back to Brooklyn after you finished filming your first Marvel film. In fact, he’d been the one to introduce you to Rami on the set of The Pacific years ago.

He’d been very supportive of you and Rami, if not a little reserved about the whole ordeal. He didn’t believe that Rami was cheating, but agreed with you on the opinion that he should at least deny any rumors. You took his opinion to heart, especially after what happened with his ex and his best friend; he didn’t take cheating rumors lightly. Lucy had been quiet about the whole ordeal too, but you didn’t want to bother her. She was dealing with her own husband and getting ready for her first child at the moment.

You had tried to talk to Rami multiple times about how you felt about his silence on the matter, but he always repeated that he didn’t really feel comfortable talking about rumors to the public. It wasn’t really their business. You had agreed at first, but the itching feeling at the back of your head as to why he wouldn’t even post something small about it - personally dispelling the rumors – wouldn’t leave you alone.

You were hurt, as much as you hated to admit it, that Rami wouldn’t stick up for your relationship like you felt he should. Weren’t you worth it? You had some anxiety as well about dealing with the short comings of being famous, but you felt like you handled them well. You would never dream about letting someone you loved deeply come under back lash about any nasty rumors. Yet it seemed Rami didn’t feel the same way.

It had been six months since the rumors started, and your phone was still exploding with abhorrent comments and tags about the whole thing. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had already asked Joe and Seb for help. Cam had wanted to assist, but she was out of town filming for an Agents of SHIELD episode. The boys had quickly moved all of you essential belongings out of your shared Brooklyn apartment that you had shared Rami for the past seven years. He was at a photo shoot for Hugo Boss that morning so you’d had plenty of time to pack up.

You’d left any framed photographs of you two, including your engagement photos adorning the hallway walls leading to your master bedroom and study. You couldn’t bear to take them with you. Despite what some would think, the last thing you wanted to do was leave Rami. But you couldn’t be with someone who wouldn’t stick up for you. It just wasn’t healthy. You two had been through a lot together. You shared more happy times than sour; but no matter how many times you’d argued about this the last six months, you couldn’t come to terms with each other.

Joe and Sebastian had left you alone at your apartment about twenty minutes ago. You had passed the time scrolling through your social media accounts and returning emails. Eventually you heard the door unlock. You stood abruptly from the couch and smoothed your baggy t-shirt before stepping into Rami’s open arms. The stiffness in your posture immediately notified Rami that something was wrong.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He dropped the folder of printed contracts he had received after his photoshoot and gripped your shoulders soothingly, pressing a hard kiss to your forehead. His strong hands ran over your shoulders, up your neck, before tangling in your hair. You squeezed your eyes shut at the contact. You didn’t say anything as you twisted your engagement ring off your finger and pulled his hands away from your shaking shoulders. You pressed the ring into his palm before forcing his tanned hands to close around it.

“I can’t do this anymore Rami.” His shoulders sagged with defeat. He didn’t need to ask you what you were talking about. He knew. He wished he hadn’t seen it coming. Wished he hadn’t hurt you this badly. But he had, and he didn’t know for the life of him why he let things go this far. You pressed a sorrowful kiss to his pouted lips before letting go of his clenched hands and backed away. You grabbed your purse and walked to the door. Opening it, you waited with a bated breath for him to say something – anything - to try and stop you from leaving. But it never came. You couldn’t stop the gut-wrenching sob that forced its way up your throat and past your lips as you closed the familiar oak door.

~*’*~*’*~*’*~

He clenched his eyes shut as he leaned against the doorway of the bar. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and blinked his eyes back into focus. It was Carly. She had a heavy brow and a slight frown marring her lips. Her eyes followed to where Rami’s had been when she’d caught him frozen in the doorway from her seat.

“We can meet another time, Rami. It’s no biggie.” She waited for Rami to reply, but all she got was a slight nod. He didn’t make eye contact as he shuffled his way out the glass door, but Carly had not missed the unshed tears that were gathering in his green eyes. She glanced over toward YN and Joe at their corner table, giggling softly at Joe’s phone. She wished she knew what exactly had happened between those two. Rami and YN had so clearly been head over heels for each other when he took her on set of Mr. Robot. She didn’t think that Rami was at all capable of cheating, but he was very tight-lipped about anything regarding his personal life and the tabloids that she didn’t know what to think one way or another.

Rami had stopped by the liquor store a few blocks from his apartment before making himself walk up the stairs to what used to be YN and his home. He was trying to prolong the inevitable – that he didn’t want to return home. Home. He didn’t even really consider his apartment home anymore. The only thing that had made it home was YN. Before he even removed the keys from the knob, Rami had twisted off the cap of the handle of Jack and took a long, burning gulp of the whiskey. He tore the keys out and let them fall to the floor, flinching slightly at the loud slam of the heavy front door.

Taking another drink, he flopped onto the black couch and cradled the Jack in his arms. He found if he kept perfectly still with his eyes closed, he could almost ignore the mournful voice in his head trying to comfort him. The voice wasn’t a familiar one, rather a compilation of all his friends’ voices over the past month trying to reassure him that everything would be okay. That he would move on with someone too, eventually.

Truth was he didn’t want to move on. He hadn’t even taken any of your old things to the Women’s Shelter yet. All of the photos of you two together or with groups of friends and family still adorned the walls and shelf spaces throughout the house. Your engagement ring still sat on the coffee table in front of him; he had placed it there the day you left. He had been looking at it every night, trying not to recall the night he proposed with it, but just like every other night, today was no different. He couldn’t help the flood of memories wash over him as he recalled the night about a year ago when he had asked you to be his wife.

~*’*~*’*~*’*~

You two had been snuggling on the couch nearly all day; before the couch, it had been your bed. You’d gotten home from filming last night and hadn’t left Rami’s sight since he picked you up from the airport. You were on your fourth Disney movie – and Rami’s favorite – which happened to be Beauty and the Beast. You were almost asleep when your favorite scene came on. You found yourself singing along to Tale as Old as Time softly with Rami whispering it in your ear.

After the first verse, Rami shifted and stood, pulling you up with him. He started the all too familiar dance in the middle of your living room, humming and singing into your ear the whole time. His hands found their way to your sides halfway through the song. You’d stopped singing; choosing instead to bask in the sweet I love you’s and You’re perfect’s that Rami had been whispering.

As the song ended you pulled away slightly. You were sure if anyone had seen you, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and baggy sweats, they would describe you as making heart eyes at Rami. He blinked a couple times before reaching behind the couch cushion and pulling out a small black box. Your heart jumped out of your chest as he stepped closer to. As he started opening the box and went to bend down, you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to you, smashing a sloppy, tear-filled kiss to his lips.

“YES! Rami, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask anything yet!”

“I already know what you’re gonna ask! And the answer is yes!” Rami smiled and laughed, not even bothering to kneel down. He slid the perfectly sized, simple princess cut diamond on your left ring finger and kissed you, the salty tears from both of you intermingling over your connected lips.

He loved you so fucking much. He was positive no one else could ever love you like he did.

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 1923

Spoilers, obv.

Jamie said that for once, an issue of WicDiv will have more of my prose in it than are in the writers note. I joked that “We'll see about that” but I think I'm actually going to keep this one relatively tight. There is a lot of allusions and nods, and if I start doing the full Jess Nevins League Annotations, it's going to take forever, be over-explaining the joke and generally come across as a bad look.

The 1923 special was one of the logical pantheons to go back to, not least as the implicit floating question of “Who the hell were those four people at the start of issue one.” Not that alone made it happen – hell, maybe to the contrary. WicDiv is so big in historical implication that half the way it works is by implication. You choose a detail, and let the imagination populate around it. This nervous stand-off between saying too little and saying too much is very much a core balancing act.

I've had people ask what I knew about them back in issue one. The core, necessary stuff. The nature of what led to the suicide pact, the Gatsby-ish setting and the emotional underpinings between the four – Susanoo and Amaterasu's divine bro-sis complications, the history with Amon-Ra, the broad strokes of their personality, what movement in art they were representing, etc. But stuff changes, and lots of stuff added.

I forget where the core idea came from, but it was there and immediate and obvious in its “Oh yeah – that's clearly something that is intellectually and artistically valid, and also dumbly hilarious.” Which is very much the go-to WicDiv move. The way I described it to people was “Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, but with a bunch of modernist figures getting bumped off. Theme of high art versus low art, the birth of the 20th century culture, the war, etc.”

Details added to that – the gods' suicide pact to try and avert WW2 – which started to lead to the gods we wanted to cast elsewhere. A number of figures who echo with the war interestingly – Orwell, Hemingway, Piccasso started to appear in there. There were figures I just knew I wanted – Woolf, etc.

The form came there – I had the idea of being a prose/comics hybrid early, but resisted it, because I knew it would be a lot of work. I say that not out of laziness, but out of simple possibility. In the end, I was right – there was no time to do this along my usual workload, and I ended up working over the Christmas holiday to write this. I had Christmas off, but otherwise, I was with the gods. Still – it was done quickly. As the lady says, “The deadlines were crushing”

The other options were to do in multiple issues. I found myself thinking that two issues may work – and that idea was before the Christmas Annual. That was rejected, as I was aware that while it wasn't laziness, it was to some degree cowardice. A prose/comics hybrid was the right idea to support the story. Commit.

So we did, and I started playing for time. There is a lot of research – obviously involving reading a bunch of the relevant figures, not least Christie to think of structure. I was picking my cast, and seeing how they fit together, and so on.

There was a problem. I still didn't have a plot. What were these gods doing?

At which point, on the suggestion of a reader on twitter, I read John Carey's The Intellectuals And the Masses and the scales fell from my eyes. Of course. I've been so blind.

The book is a gleeful, sustained and viscous intellectual evisceration of high Modernism. Much of it I already knew, but this specifically argued case made me realise the obvious: intellectually speaking, a bunch of them were fellow travellers with totalitarianism and had nothing but disgust for the common person. In other words, in WicDiv's universe, it made me realise I could step past my actual admiration for many of the figures in question and just follow those implications through.

And suddenly, there's the plot rather than the concept. In my head, I was thinking everyone would be very anti fascism. By realising some of them wouldn't necessarily be (or, at least, “Hey – it won't be that bad, and what really matters is art and the people who can actually appreciate art”.) I have multiple sides with multiple questions and a bunch of place to explore.

At which point, we needed our artist. Aud worked with Al on the Ultimates, which was my first extended exposure to her bar individual bits of art – we loved it, and thought she'd be perfect. We approached her, and she said yes.

At which point, the problems of scripting. I played with time to actually write the prose to get more and more research. The script I wrote her had the comic pages, but only included a synopsis of what happened in the prose bits, so Aud could follow the narrative. I'll include one of them later in this to give you an idea. The point being – the structure, and the primary clues (and red-herrings) were in existence at that point. I just had to execute them. I could put that off.

I did.

I ended up actually writing the prose two months after Aud got the script, so I had all her pages to look at while working. This obviously led to a lot of inspirational material back and forth. There's a few problems – some fun ideas I had in the process of writing aren't ever shown in the art, and some areas where I had to write around a problem. But some of those writing around a problem led to some of the more memorable bits in the story.

It was fine. This is a dense issue of WicDiv. I did the math, and I think in terms of material, you'd be pushed to do it in any less than 4 issues without compressing, and maybe even five. However, that was necessary to be what it was required to be. It was a dragon, and we killed it.

Here's a section from the opening letter to Aud, which basically speaks to the core intent...

The mood is basically an Agatha Christie Murder Mystery. This is pulp and light. It just happens to star riffs on some of the most intellectual writers of all time. As such, we kind of mock them. They're trapped in this kind of story – and this story kills them all.

At the same time, this is a story about form. What is comics? What is prose? Is illustrated prose just a comic with a really big caption? This is arguably the most modernist issue of WicDiv that we've ever done. As such, we're saying the exact opposite to the above as well – that we are the successors to these geniuses, and this is our ultimate tribute to them.

My tongue is in cheek with the above, but perhaps less than it should be.

I smile. There's a lot about this issue that makes me smile. And readers too – it went down in basically the most optimistic scenario it could have been. We knew that there would be some people who just rejected it due to the comics/prose hybrid form – and hell, I don't even necessarily think those people are wrong to do so. However, with a handful of exceptions – none of whom were reviewers – the only people who didn't like the issue were those who rejected it because of formal reasons.

I admit, this has led me to unpacking why people did, and some theories will come below. I also get the feeling this is an issue which I am at risk from taking the wrong lessons from.

Let's do this.

Jamie Cover: Minimalistic, clean, book cover. Instantly classy. Instantly foreshadowing That Fucking Lighthouse.

I notice the $4.99 price here. Yeah, we decided to sort of stack the odds in people liking the oddness. This is a lot of content for five dollars. If people like the way I think, you get your money's worth.

Aud's Cover: In giving Aud a brief, I wanted to do a scene which we likely weren't going to see inside. Plus the final cast hadn't been sorted out at this point, so we wanted to do something with the four figures from issue 1. As such, doing Amaterasu and Susanoo in a waltz among the living light dead struck us as fun. Aud wanted to integrate the title, which also works well. The doomed romance of the pair of them is certainly a key nature part, and felt good to foreshadow here.

Image Expo Cover: This was done far later than the other ones, and is so good we tried to work out if there was a way of switching it with the main cover. Alas, too late. This is inspired by Weimer Pursell's World Fair poster. Jamie is almost unrecognisable in style due to the lack of classical inking. I especially like this as it shows Lucifer on the cover, which obviously adds to the impact when we kill him.

IFC

The headshots were done last by Aud, after she done the rest – it was a “If we have time, it'd be good to do this too.” We played with some ideas for using them in different places (perhaps even as far as topping each bit of prose) but decided that was too much. That we go in deep with the prose at the start causes big problems. Oddly, my main take from reading Christie is how the opening of the books are the hardest parts – they're trying to set up so many characters, and I had a tendency (especially with my somewhat loose relationship with names) to lose which dude was which dude. That was always going to be a sticking point in this issue, so I felt a Dramatis Personnae to open would work as a visual anchor to the cast. “Dionysus? Who's Dionysus.” <Flips back> “Ah!”> and then back in.

Lovely design here by Sergio. I'll want to rave about Sergio throughout, but let's say it here loudly. This is amazing work.

Okay! The gods. Let's do what everyone's been asking for and saying who's influenced by who. Or at least, broadly.

Part of the reason why I wanted to do 1923 in prose was it would give the opportunity to have all 12 gods. The specials have gone down well, but there's been a regular undercurrent of “We want to know more about the others”. In 25 pages, that's not going to happen, at least in any way which is useful. We have to focus to some degree. In this case, for once, we wanted to give a full image of a full pantheon, just to show how it worked in another period – and with that, a readers' imagination can populate others with more guidance.

Secondary issue: while I've been describing the comic as “Modernist poets in an Agatha Christie Murder Mystery” that clearly wasn't true. We'd already shown four gods from 1923, so it clearly couldn't just be modernist poets. Of course, this is the theme – high art versus low art and the various different approaches to the gods is key.

Essentially, the 1923 pantheon is half way between the 1831 and 2013 pantheons in approach, with elements of both. As a mid-way point between the two, that seems to work. The gods that hark to the future have an approach more similar to the 2013 pantheon. The defeated gods have an approach which has a little more to the past. It's more complicated than that, and there's obvious exceptions, but that's what the backbone is.

So some gods are based on an archetypal sort of creator or artform, with a few nods to specific things, (Amon-Ra, Susanoo, Amaterasu, Minerva, Baal) while others are inspired an actual figure with a few grace notes from elsewhere (Neptune, Dionysus, Morrigan) and others are inspired by a creator merged with something from their fiction (Lucifer, Norns, Set). And then there's Woden, who isn't a god, so the rules change.

I swapped “based on” for “inspired” just now in the above. WicDiv may be inspired by figures, but the real figures also exist in the world of WicDiv. This gives us the narrative distance required to do what we do with them.

So, from the top, and in broad strokes. If you want more of the indirect influences and some theories, I think TWATD has the best round up.

Baal: One part of the conspiracy. Researching the period, there is a lot of white elitist dudes of various stripes, and Baal ends up being them all. In terms of actual references, there's a lot of TS Elliot in there, but there's strong notes of Ezra Pound and the big reference only a few people have spotted is Wyndham Lewis, who I think provides the majority of the look. I'm not sure Jamie was thinking of that explicitly, but he wanted to definitely have someone who looks like an elitist. Of all the older-gods, he's the broadest and most archetypal, and that's because there's a lot of this sort of guy, and it felt like repeating the same character multiple times. It's also a pretty white pantheon anyway.

Amaterasu: The concept of her in issue one was “all of Dramatic Film”. As such, she recalls a lot of early movie heroines. In terms of her powers, she recalls Georges Méliès in several places. I wasn't aware of The Four Troublesome Heads at the time of writing, but I really wish I was.

Lucifer: Fitzgerald meets Gatsby.

Susanoo: If Amaterasu is dramatic film, Susanoo is comedy. Biggest influence in terms of me thinking of how he moves is Buster Keaton, and for me, Susanoo's movement was the thing that was always on my mind.

The Morrigan: Primarily Joyce. Jamie using the later-period Joyce eyepatch is one of my favourite notes in all of this, but Aud just makes him sing as the bedraggled writer. He's a heartbreaker. He's notably the Modernist who is against the Modernists' elitists and topics, which is one of the beats to complicate things.(Random quote from Woolf on Joyce: “a self-taught working man, and we all know how distressing they are, how egotistic, insistent, raw, striking, and ultimately nauseating.”)

Neptune: Hemingway, with a few random grace notes from Nemo. I smile at “Sea god. Short sentences.” I had far too much fun writing Hemingway parody – the active character with the active voice.

The Norns: Wells, Huxley and Orwell, with grace notes in Little Brother from all their books. The idea of a triple-god who are all Future was the core of it, and I yelped in excitement.

Set: Woolf meets Orlando (which basically means it's Woolf meets her literary love portrait of Vita Sackville-West). Her historical-anecdote-for-any-occasion twitch comes from Orlando done in the style of Baron Munchausen's loving hyper-parody, but I can't deny it does come off a little like Tahani from the Good Place. The Set from Bloomsbury is my favourite pun in the issue, not least because people either get it immediately or just miss it completely. The figure I'm least comfortable with throwing under the bus, but I've already written her as a hero figure in Uber, so it probably evens out. I also remember things like the quote from the Morrigan above, which as a self-taught nauseating working man, does tend to soothe things somewhat. Like the Baal, her position is less being pro fascism (and Set is distinctly less pro fascism than Baal) and more a complete lack of interest in anything which isn't art. It's definitely one when the “inspired by” distance is key.

Amon-Ra: Embodiment of Jazz and Blues – primarily blues – with a little of the Harlem Renaissance. Most of the tiny nods are Robert Johnson ones.

Woden: Most of the visual language is are from German Expressionism (most obviously Fritz Lang) and the political beliefs (to state the obvious) Nazism. Like 2013 Woden, Woden isn't a god. He's a god who's killed someone and stolen their place and turned it to his own awful ends. When researching Uber, I found people like Hitler difficult to get on a human level. I've never known anyone like Hitler. Conversely, Joseph Goebbels? If you take the guy in his 20s propping up the the bar talking about how he's working on his novel and add virulent anti-semitism, then you basically have Goebbels. You can almost see him shiver in delight that he murdered his way into controlling art in his country... but there isn't a note of art in him. That's basically Woden. He's appropriated the art of a country at gunpoint. He looks like a villain, but even that look isn't his, and his villainy more profound. He would rule a people through sound and light. As Morrigan is the Modernist against Modernist's elitism, Woden is the Populist Against The People.

Minerva: Child-star archetype generally, Shirley Temple specifically. (I just typoed “Shirley Crabtree.” Now that is a very different look) In terms of personality though, I found myself falling into a slightly frenzied Enid Blighton Famous Five-ish voice.

Dionysus: Picasso as living Guernica. As good a place as any to mention the time-mashing in all of this – basically, the Spanish Civil War experience was moved from the thirties to WW1. That's the sort of editing we do with the figures. This is about (broadly speaking) “Between the wars and what that felt like, and giving birth to the 20th century.”

I lobbed a bunch of ideas at Jamie, and he did full body length plans for each. We'll probably include them in the trade when we get there.

Page 3-5

Right – 3000 words in and I haven't started the story yet. Things are going to be looser now – most  of the thinking is above.

The second two pages were originally written as a splash, but Aud wanted to do it widescreen. I originally WANTED it as a two-page splash, but I didn't have the space to spare, so this re-creating it pleased me. Obviously this sets out the visual location of the whole story – here we have the island, here we have a lighthouse, etc.

Aud suggested doing it in a limited palette form, with the ink washes, and we clearly loved it. When actually describing the sea in the text bits, I was trying to evoke these actual seas, which is a fun way to do interplay.

But yeah – it's our “Here's Ananke.” As I suspect many have noticed, the specials main connective tissues are Ananke and Lucifer. The backbone of the specials trade is the meetings of Anankes and Lucifers across the centuries.

The “This will have to be my masterpiece” is lots of fun. I suspect this is how Christie felt about And Then There Was None. It's interesting that in all the conversation around the issue I haven't seen anyone realise that Ananke is Christie – some kind of demonic Miss Marple figure, writing the plot. It's also the first red herring. Clearly we know Ananke is a murderer at this point, so she's always the logical suspect. The story is based around flirting with that, stepping away from that, then stepping back to it.

The title was decided late – literally when this page was being laid out. I felt it was a little too obvious, but decided it was just obvious enough. Layout minimalistic, clipped, recalling both books and film (especially of the period). It's the first of that sort of thing, and far from the last.

Page 5

We initially decided we didn't need the icon page. We didn't think we'd have space.

Then the do-a-splash-as--two-pages actually created some problems, in terms of leading to all the early death reveals to be on the right. We were in a position of either padding the first text section by a page (and when that was long, it felt bad) or strimming it (which is bad, in a different way). Then we did some math and realised if we had an interstitial here it would actually bring us to the exact 56 pages.

So Jamie did the icons and everything became perfect.

Here he picks up the Art Deco from issue 1, which is a delight. Much to love here – I think his personal favourite is Dionysus' icon, which is understandable, as that's just awesome. I'm glad we actually found space to do this – yes, part of the book was showing a complete pantheon... but a pantheon isn't really complete until you see their icons.

In other notes, I'm considering using these icons as shoulder transfers for my Space Marine chapter.

7-12

Chapter 1!

Here's the synopsis of what I wrote in Aud's drawing script...

This is basically a series of short chapters, ala the opening of AND THEN THERE WERE NONE (but shorter), introducing the various parties making their way to the island. I suspect they will be three, who will be...

The first ship reaching the island – Dionysus, the Norns, Woden, Morrigan, Minerva, Neptune. Possibly two ships. We set up some key relationships here – at least, Morrigan and Minerva seem to be getting on.

The Awesome Egyptian-mode approach carrying the Egyptian gods. It belongs to Set. Baal tells Amon-Ra Set is getting reading ready, before Amon-Ra then teleports down to the island, having seen...

...Amaterasu/Susanoo's approach, setting up their own somewhat populist beliefs in art (and light) and their fear they may be in an incestuous relationship. Amon meets them.

(Regarding teleportation: the gods have their selection of appropriate abilities to their archetypes – it's perhaps worth noting that the “Good” gods in this story tend to be sun or light gods. In the 2014 pantheon, the underworld gods tend to be the “Good” ones.)

One of his servants – made of living light, projected from the house – tell them that the final gods are arriving now. “Give them five minutes, then send them down.” Alone, drinking, he muses on all he's done to build this place? Will she finally be impressed with him?  Someone arrives. He asks “Does this impress? “They smile, say it's perfect and for a second he's happy, before they click their fingers.

So there's the shape of it there, especially the key beats – it's enough for me to know there IS a solution.

This is the longest of the prose sections, and unavoidably so. The first movement of a Murder Mystery is to reveal the cast. It's also the longest section anyway – we start primarily in prose and we move towards primarily to comics. Prose is high art, old europe, etc and comics is low art, the new world, etc.

In terms of prose style, I weighed up what to do. I started thinking a pure Christie homage in actual prose, but backed away – it's a fun card trick to show, but I think it'd be less satisfying to the reader (who may or may not like Christie), and more easy to fuck up (So high risk for little reward). So structurally it was based on Christie, and instead the found a voice I found fun – a little period, but also a performance. And far too reference heavy for its own good. But Fun.

Fun is a key thing. The more I decided to be playful with the book, the better it seemed to work. As said, this is a key WicDiv stance. I haven't re-read it in detail (and I'm only skimming now) but I'm not too angry with what's here. That'll do.

The d____ was one of the Christie stylistic choices I chose to keep for period. It's fun.

Morrigan basically speaks in stream-of-consciousness parody throughout, including bits of Joycean scripts. Part of me was tempted to do the ““MORRIGAN: (softly). Aye.” said Morrigan, softly.” joke throughout. I can imagine Neptune wanting to punch him for the adjectives, evidently.

Hmm. Yeah, I'm sitting here thinking “I really don't need to say much about the prose sections.”

Page 13-14

The structure is key visual and plot relevant scenes are played out in comics. The stuff you need to see and we want to show you.  Plus, abstractly, I suspect someone could just read the comic pages and get the core of the story.

(The things are prose are also things which are inefficient in comics – drawing room discussions are rarely riveting visual prose, and nightmarishly tricky to do with a large cast. Not that it's impossible – see THE WATCH chapter in Imperial Phase)

I like Ananke's complicity-inducing glance-to-read in the fourth panel of thirteen.

I do like the Butler.

And the reveal! These splashes were considered a bunch – my original idea was actually to have them in a frame, to REALLY AGGRESSIVELY make them works of art, and turn it into a gallery wall. In the end, the distance from reader seemed too much, and we went a way which took a lot of it in (as in, we're still looking at an image, the caption is designed to evoke a plaque in an exhibit, the caption of the prose also a framing in art) but just let Aud be Aud and blow people away.

So much here  - First appearance of a non-sepia cover. I wish I did something with that apple too, for the full Lucifer-in-Paradise.

Page 15-18

Chapter 2!

The Metropolitan are definitely the great-lost-visual from the issue. Clearly, the robot from Metropolis as a servant.

Honestly, getting the cast to go at each other here is fun, in the dual conversation of what they're talking about (the murders) and what they're really talking about (Art). Also, they're mostly funny – some I like more than others, but when doing the prose, I rapidly found how much I enjoyed doing these affectionate mockeries.

Skimming through this, I'm considering who the lead actually is. In some ways, obviously, it doesn't have one – in my head, the Norns are the lead, and Verondi, specifically, but I suspect Susanoo is the moral and human backbone of it. People seem to like him too: everyone loves a sad clown.

19-20

See – this is where the “comic pages alone are still readable.” As in, we specifically show the core clues you need to know in the comics. There's other clues in the prose, and there's certainly red herrings in the comic (Ananke's sinister nature is played up).

I really like how Aud does the Butler here, which is good, considering it's the last we see of him – that fade in between the second and third panel.

Yes, page 20 is probably the most PAINFUL pun in the issue.

21-24

Chapter 3!

Man, the small change which nags at me most which I may change for the trade is Woden saying “We're not too different. Perhaps... two-thirds different.” Clearly, it should be one-third different.

The word “posset” is my tribute to The Box Of Delights, which is a traditional Xmas watching in my house.

25-26

And the last two pager – prose firmly dominating as the old world dominates the plot, to state the obvious.

Oddly tricky first panel to letter – I kept on trying to get a BIG BROTHER WATCHING YOU joke into it, but it always felt clunky. Or rather, clunkier than normal.

The red seaweed is a lovely touch for Neptune.

27-28

Pace-pace-pace. Neptune not being able to swim is, I suspect, my favourite character beat. Masculinity is one hell of a drug.

This whole sequence I imagined Ananke as a passive-aggressive Sherlock Holmes pretending to be Watson.

29-33

And Set giving serious pose at the end of 29. Well done, Set. You've risen to this occasion.

Quiet tension leading to violence. Honestly, I really like the My Chemical Romance vibe to the Norns – Verondi is very much the star here.

First appearance of the full on screen interstitial card – obviously saving the full explanation until later, nearer the climax, but the edging into comics formalism aping period cinema necessity.

I think the most chilling of the death scenes is this one.

34-35

Chapter 5

Always the shortest of the interstitial texts, this expanded with the end of Perhaps the biggest change from the synopsis was bringing forward the Amon-Ra/Amaterasu/Susanoo plot as the counter-plot to the issue. It was a case of me realising it served as a distraction, but also a useful human arc to them. I wanted to see it. If I wanted to see it, it implies that the reader would too.

Obviously Minerva is the player to watch at this point. I'm reminded of one of the minor influences  on Minerva – namely, Alice of Wonderland fame. I say the core stuff earlier, but there's a bunch of that kind of thing.

Really nice how Sergio fills the half page at the end of this sequence – as I've said on twitter, it's interesting that many people have said “Most” of the comic is prose. That's not true – the majority of the book is comics. Prose just takes longer to read in the same given space. For readers, I get it, but it did grate slightly when reviewers did it. Basic fact-checking is the basic minimum.

36-39

We finally get Morrigan' dialogue in comics form – it was the first Morrigan wrote. Courier seemed the right choice.

I laughed when writing TO THE LIGHTHOUSE. No, this is not what Woolf was writing about.

40-42

Chapter 6.

The Modernists' last flourish – I was considering doing this section in the style of From the Lighthouse, with the floating perspective and virtuoso parenthesis use, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. Even if done in the parodic style, it's still a huge risk, and not necessarily one which will travel to more than a proportion of the audience. Plus, this is the Explain Everything To The Readers bit, so we really do want it to be clear.

I did consider going back to it at the last minute after I had done this take, but decided against it, in favour of a heavy smattering of Modernist injokes. Most obvious is that Orlando opens with Orlando playing around with someone's decapitated head.

43-49

And the climatic fight scene!  Where things get sillier, but also more pointed. The ironic distance is opening up again with the cards.

“It's not all fine” a flirtation with WicDiv's core “It's going to be okay”

I kind of admire Susanoo's determination to pretend it isn't all this bad.

Aud suggested the multiple panels on 43 to show the disappearing of the light, which is a good call.

I also feel a little iffy about the quasi-Wells of Urdr – he's a mess of faults, and certainly was fond of many of these ideas, but he also was an avowed pacifist. I suspect he's the flip of Woolf – she got her hero spotlight in Uber, and now we get a twisted take. He appears like he does here, murdered after he gets in over his head while not realising what was actually happening, and is someone considerably more heroic in Spangly New Thing. But you'll have to wait for that, right?

Set's blowing of them apart is A+. And the dagger-twist of the core quote of Room of One's Own is... well, it's hyperbolic, but if you read Room, it's absolutely there. Room is an economic argument as much as anything else.

The final sequence being a Keaton-stunt married to pure-cinema-magic train creation (a nod towards the famous L'Arrivée d'un train en gare de La Ciotat which reputedly had people running out the cinema as they thought a train was going to hit them).  Metaphorically, a lot of people were like Baal here. They got run over too.

There were some dialogue tweaks here to ensure clarity – Minerva's “Goodbye Set” to ensure it was clear it was Set who was alive.

50-52

Chapter 7!

If I went the FULL HOMAGE route, if Chapter 6 was going to be a To The Lighthouse homage, the first section of this would have been written as a screenplay while the second bit would be written like a propaganda news report. Ultimately, I don't think we needed to disrupt the reader any more than we already did.

Especially as clarity here is absolutely the key thing – we have a statement in Chapter 6 of what Set/Baal thought they were doing... and now we have a different reading presented by Ananke to the gods of light and then ANOTHER reading of what Woden thought he was going on with the Zeitgeist which is then immediately undercut by Ananke.

The key thing was making the mystery of it as plain as possible – we give you what we can, and then underline the fact “Perhaps someone will work it out” of it.

(Minor detail here, ala Alice – Woden gets  Lovecraftian nod with the Colour Out Of Space)

Ananke's last lines came to me as wrapping it up, and one of those “Yes, this is exactly how to end this)

I suspect for all the monstering of the modernists, there's more of a fundamental ambivalence than you expect. If given a choice between Art Elitism and fascism or populist arts and advanced consumerism, I'd choose the latter... but doesn't mean the latter is ideal, especially when it's clear how all the gods of light have been played as much as the literary gods. As always with WicDiv, we're not really interested in easy answers.

53-54

And once more we return.

Back tomorrow, where Mothering Invention kicks off.

Thanks for reading.

[dcuglybooks]

A short story collection featuring stories that are either mean and ugly like that turd that thudded you in school, or sweet and cuddly as a little gloomy kitten; or puppy if you’re more of a dog person.

Stories Christians don't have to read backwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LGB4HGN/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glc_fabc_UIpaGb2VC4BBX

Here’s a free short.

WAP: WEIRD ASS PHANTOM

“There’s a ghost in this house. There’s a ghost in this house.”

Linda was getting tired of the shit. Every day at exactly noon her alarm would play this shitty overdubbed version of a Cardi B song. The original song wasn’t her cup of tea to begin with, this new version that sounded like drunk karaoke was even worse. Most times she would be sitting there and the sound of a drunk sorority girl would make her jump out of her skin. She couldn’t even find the song or alarm in her phone to do anything about it.

Linda and her girlfriend, Melissa, moved into this old house last month, the rent was so damn cheap; landlord said it was because it used to be a party house so he never charged much. The logic didn’t make any sense but at $300 a month and a mile outside of town, how were they not going to sign that lease?

“I think,” spoke Melissa one night while watching her phone float around taking pictures in the air, “the reason rent is so cheap is because it’s haunted.”

“You think?” Replies Linda while snatching the phone out of the air. “I just wish this damn ghost would stop posting pictures of our bedroom to our Instagram accounts. Did you see the caption last night?”

“Oh you mean ‘Pumpkin spice is almost here. Basic bitches, rejoice!’ The comma is what set me off. Why did she put a comma in that? Why bother? It wasn’t even used correctly I don’t believe.”

“We’re being haunted by a basic bitch.”

“I think that may be offensive.”

“I hear it all the time, it just...... yeah ok maybe. I guess I shouldn’t assume this ghost is a bad stereotype, I won’t say it again.”

“True, this girl may have more going for her than just these annoying social media posts from our accounts”

“Remember the mirror though?”

Last week as the couple were eating dinner they heard a clatter and crash from the upstairs bathroom. Running full speed ahead up the stairs and around the corner Linda saw all their makeup in a pile in the empty sink. She could see a pair of red lipsticked lips floating in the air while eyeliner was seemingly drawn onto the air in a cat eye shape. She sighed and said “What now?” These types of things had been going on since the first night so at this point it was old hat.

The lipstick went to the mirror and wrote “I am finally going to kill you.” Linda took a step back prepared to flee until the lipstick wrote below it “JK LOL YOUR FACE” and then the face floated off into the wall leaving behind the makeup like some sort of painting.

The first time anything strange had happened, a pizza showed up at the front door; delivery for an Amanda Perkins. The girl who moved out recently, they took the pizza because it was already paid for and assumed the girl had made a mistake. They were sure of this as they sat and watched old re-runs of home improvement and munched away; then they noticed the slice floating over in the air above the recliner and the chewed up pile on the seat. They screamed and ran outside, Melissa forgot her phone inside and Linda’s made a ding from inside her pocket.

“Hey I know this is really weird, it’s weird AF for me too. We can make it work though, ladies. I swear I won’t bother you, I already cleaned up my mess.”

They inched inside looking around like scared toddlers and sure enough the mess was cleaned up. After that they just rolled with the weirdness.

“Are you sure Amanda left, Mr. Morris?” Linda was on the phone with the landlord.

“Yes. Positive. Why would you think she still lived there?”

“There’s been..... some things.”

“Drunk college girl, she probably stumbled home one night and forgot she went home for the summer. Its no deal. Not big or small.”

“Are you absolutely positive there is no deal? Big, small, medium, or slightly larger than medium but not quite large?”

“What do you think? I know her ex and he killed her and then buried her body in the basement so now her ghost is haunting you. This is why I charge so cheap rent! No. I don’t believe what you think. I will be going.”

He hung up without ever realizing Linda never once mentioned any of that other stuff. Linda thought, Why does he talk like that?

Turned out that’s exactly what had happened. After doing a quick google of the ghosts name they found out she never came home. After a quick Facebook search they found her ex boyfriends page. After some scrolling they found a post that said “Amanda and I broke up again and I am going to kill her.” The post had six likes and four comments.

“Get her bro!”

“Bitch ain’t appreciate you anyhow bet!”

“U need any ting lemme no”

“Fuk gr8 ass tho. Mind if I hit her up?”

These people were insane. Did not a single one of these people see the part about wanting to kill her? Actually PLANNING to kill her.

The police found it interesting enough to look into it, they found reason to arrest the guy. After a long court trial Amanda’s ex-boyfriend, Brent, was sentenced to life in prison for murder. The body was exhumed and buried at a family plot. The rent got more expensive because Mr. Morris was in prison for helping cover a murder so his aunt took over.

You win some you lose some.

Amanda did not leave though. The ghost hung out still to this day four months later. The social media posts kept going. The pizzas kept getting ordered, only now from their pockets because Amanda’s parents closed her bank account. Amanda was irritated about that, she was cut off from her parents money and stuck living with two other people.

Linda and Melissa tried to make her feel as comfy as possible, they left a pen and notebook in each room so she could communicate with them. Usually the notes were always about how bored she was being a ghost and how if she tried to leave the house it got all bright and she started floating. Amanda was “for real afraid of flying” as she wrote on a notebook.

Amanda’s behavior got strange at some point. She began doing things like drawing stick figures on the bathroom floor in shampoo, she would wrap herself in toilet paper and roll down the stairs creating the illusion of her body disappearing, the worst of it was when she would lay in bed with Linda and Melissa startling them when she pulled the blanket. It was like living with an invisible insane person. Either her mind was slipping or she was just a strange character. She would turn the TV on and watch the same episode of “King of Queens” for ten hours straight while they were at work. They wondered what would happen if they deleted it from the DVR but didn’t want to face that at all.

The alarm kept going off too; Linda had to hand out awkward smiles and apologies when it happened at work or in public. One time she had to apologize to a middle aged woman when it went off in the cereal aisle while shopping and her son started singing the lyrics to the original version as loud as his voice would allow. The mother gasped at all the words her kid knew and knocked a shelf of maple syrup over. The bottles burst all over the floor, Linda tried to help clean it up but she was shooed away by a guy with a mop bucket and a face that said he wanted her dead as shit.

They asked her multiple times what they could do to get her to move along, to which she would always write “sno-cone” on her notebook with no explanation.

Linda woke up sick on a Tuesday and didn’t go to work, she came into the bathroom and seen a note written in lipstick on the mirror that read “Baby, all my life I will be driving home to you.” She blushed, Melissa had left her a really sweet note on the mirror. When Melissa got home she surprised her with a bout of some of the best sex they had ever had, despite Linda being sick she felt overcome with love for her partner.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?” Asked Melissa after.

“The note.”

“Oh yes. The note, got you good with that one. So, if it was so good mind telling me what it said?”

“You know what it said!”

“Of course I do.”

She didn’t know what it said. She had no clue, but she wasn’t going to raise a stink about what just happened. No way, no how. She got up and went to use the restroom, as she sat on the toilet she looked up and saw the words on the mirror.

“LINDA!” She yelled. “I DIDNT LEAVE THAT! THATS THE GODDAMN LYRICS FROM THE THEME SONG FOR ‘THE KING OF QUEENS!’”

Linda didn’t know what to say; she shook her head and internally accepted defeat on this one. The couple didn’t talk about it again, the ends justified the means on this one they silently agreed; thanks Amanda.

The trio had carried on life like this for months, seven to be exact, when they heard a bang and a crash from the front door. Assuming this was yet again Amanda doing some goofy nonsense they ran downstairs to clean up the mess only to find a man standing their pointing a shotgun at them.

“You’re the dykes who got me locked up, aintcha?” Said a freshly broke out of prison Brent. “You know, usually I’m cool with like loving whoever and like rights and like equality and shit but tonight is not your night. Go sit.”

They were tied together on the couch while Brent sat channel flipping on the TV.

“Amanda is still here,” spoke Linda “she’s a ghost, at some point she’s going to help us and you’ll probably get hurt. She’s probably posting pictures on Instagram right now so she’s a little busy, but I promise when she finds out she’ll come running.”

“No she won’t.”

“Ok? So you think her post is going to get a ton of likes then?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Ugh are you generic ‘I beat my girlfriend’ guy number seventy or not?”

“Not.”

“Then why is she afraid of you?”

“I’m bigger than her…… I guess?”

“She’s a ghost.”

“I’m still bigger.”

​“How can you be bigger than an incorporeal being with no mass or weight?”

​“See, she doesn’t way anything.”

“You didn’t think any of this through did you?”

“Not one bit.”

“It shows. Why did you kill her?”

“Hey I’ve never been what you’d call a planner. I killed her because she broke up with me for the fiftieth time that year and all my friends were giving me a hard time about how I would just crawl back to her. I said ‘can’t crawl back to her if I kill her!’ They all thought it was funny so I did it.”

“Ah………Makes perfect sense to me.”

“A guy has to watch his reputation, right?”

They sat there watching late night infomercials in silence for another half hour. Linda nudged Melissa as she seen a phone floating around taking pictures of a floating can of soup.

Of all the ghosts in the world, why was theirs like this?

“Brent, there’s some stuff on the DVR” Linda told him.

“Good I hate infomercials. Oh yuck, ‘The King of Queens.’ I hate that show, Amanda loved it. That fat fucking heifer guy gets to make it with that babe every night. Fucking loser ass UPS guy”

They could see the phone slowly lower and start hovering towards Brent. They let him rant.

“And that Deacon guy, what a fucking idiot, he leaves his wife at one point which is silly because she’s so fucking hot.”

The can of soup hovered behind him.

“That guy that dates the ugly chick from the bowling alley, now I can’t tolerate him at all.”

The soup can shook with rage.

“He ends up living with the other guy right? Like what the fuck? Are they like a thing or not a thing? I didn’t pay enough attention. I did pretend to though to get some action every now and again, show fucking sucks though. Here I’ll do you guys a favor.”

As he deleted the episode from the DVR the can came slamming down into his head.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

They heard a voice yell “MY BONES ARE GETTING WEARY! MY BACK IS GETTING TIGHT!” As the can of cream of chicken turned Brent’s head into cream of Brent’s brains.

After the violence stopped the notebook hovered in front of them and said “Sorry, I was on TikTok, I’ll clean this up tho.”

Much like the first night that’s exactly what happened. They were untied and they watched as the mess was cleaned up. Brent’s body floated over to the ground and the can of soup was laid on the table. The phone floated over to Melissa who dialed 911.

After the legal mess was cleaned up they decided that having Amanda around maybe was not such a bad idea. No one could really kill them, it was like having a built in security system. They did eventually add a third line to their cell plan and let her set up social media for herself as a reclusive twenty something who couldn’t leave the house due to a skin condition.

Her pages were ok, they didn’t get much interaction or followers but Amanda was happy. Sometimes people would say they wanted to hang out with her because they lived close, Amanda just said her skin condition was contagious AF. No one ever thought to say “Hey, what exactly IS your medical condition?” People could be so polite sometimes.

Christmas morning as they all opened gifts Linda and Melissa cried as Amanda opened the complete series collection of “The King of Queens.” The three sat on the couch together that evening and watched all of season one.

Baby all my life I will be driving home to you.

The next day they heard a familiar song. Together they both smiled and thought that yes, there was a ghost in this house.

[wingheadshellhead]

So I just read Jonathan Hickman's Avgers, Vol. 1: Avengers World which has that scene about how "it started with two men; one was life and one was death" in reference to Steve and Tony. What really confuses me and kind of makes me angry is why Tony is death? I don't really understand what it's referencing or what he's done to be Death. Like merchant of death and all that I get. But he's past his history now right? Even poetically in an avengers comic why is he still death? Wondering if you know?

i mean,,,,,,, i know fandom was briefly up in arms about this (not really but it was a Thing ppl were mildly salty about) but hickman never specifies who he’s referring to here. (the placement of the captions means nothing lmao, it’s literally just positioned in standard left-to-right reading order.) and actually, many ppl in fandom have taken that exact ambiguity and spun it on its head in edits and fics and especially re: mcu after ca: cw to cast steve as death, and tony as life as an interesting subversion of popular understanding of that quote where 616 tony = death, 616 steve = life. 

hickman’s writing style is very much about intense concept ideas and the big picture, he goes HARD on metaphors that make for great quotes and oneliners taken out of context but doesn’t often attempt to explain or further clarify what they mean. as someone who’s read most of his original comic east of west over at image, i can tell you it’s Classic Hickman to throw out that kind of dramatic ass statement and leave it up in the air as to who’s who just because it was memorable, it sounded fucking good, and it’s going to stick in people’s heads long after they’ve finished reading. and it definitely works bc this one ticks all three boxes.

personally, i don’t think hickman specifically intended one of them to be Life personified or Death personified; that’s hyperbolic even for hickman’s level of drama. and with steve and tony, at least, i think he knows full well that he’s dealing with Humans at the end of the day and not metaphorical embodiments of things. 

so what i think about the quote, specifically: 

1. it’s more useful as an axiomatic representation of tony and steve as polarising forces then as a literal statement where both correlate exactly to life or death; this is the unstoppable force meets immovable object facet of their relationship. 

hickman’s vol. 5 was very much about exploring and interrogating this part of steve and tony’s dynamic and driving it to its very limits. while i don’t know that i was totally satisfied with vol. 5 as an avengers comic bc i like seeing my kids get along and not constantly trying to murder each other, hickman definitely Gets steve and tony. he Gets their dynamic and the drama and tragedy that can come from such an important, intense and deeply profound relationship that’s grounded in so much history and personal stakes and emotions. tony and steve being best friends for over a decade and such important figures in each other’s lives will never negate the fact that they have very different ethical alignments and moral philosophies. and for two people who are absolutely compelled by those things in everything they do, going head to head with someone that happens to land at the polar opposite of them on the spectrum is always going to go down like… well… y’know. civil wars. universes dying. just bc that’s literally how much marvel has invested in them lol.

but i respect people / characters who respect themselves too much to bend just bc someone they love, or people they love, wants them to. i respect characters that will stand their ground and stick to their convictions even though it’d be easier not to, esp. when they’re risking someone they love. and conversely, just because steve and tony can’t agree on everything doesn’t mean their relationship suddenly becomes null and void. they’re too vastly similar but also different people who’d sooner die then stop fighting for the thing(s) they believe need to be fought for; this is something they know in their bones about each other, they know each other too well to expect anything less from the other person.

2. they can both be both. and this is Literal given that steve’s last act in the final moments of the 616 universe ‘as we knew it’ (bc there’s some debate – spoiler alert? – that the all-new all-different universe that marvel is currently set in is not 616 but a completely different universe and the 616 that existed before is legitimately just dead) was to take one of tony’s suits and try to murder him. granted, the ‘tony’ that was tony in the final moments of the 616 universe ‘as we knew it’ was also Not Really Tony, and i fully believe that the influences of Superior Tony were still lingering and tainting his overall Tonyness. in that instance, if you were going to be very simplistic and reductionist abt your interpretation of the quote, steve was definitely death. but Again, they are Both Both. tony spent (spends lbr) pretty much all his time in vol. 5 prophesizing death and destruction like 616′s very own cassandra; as Not Really Tony / still sorta superior iron man he pilots the godkiller to massacre an entire alien race from invading and destroying earth; building bombs, and being fully behind the plan to kill other planets to save earth-616.

you’re right that 616 doesn’t bring up his past as often as mcu does anymore because it’s considered literal ancient history (as in bronze age 60′s history that’s been written to death, although i’m of the opinion any good tony stark writer Can and Will find a way to write his past into modern relevance). tony’s narrative and the nature of his character, however, (sb driven by guilt and accountability and the knowledge that he’s alive bc of the sacrifice of a man who died to save him – i.e. yinsen) will always inevitably feature death, his history, and his subsequent transformation. talking about 616 and specfiically tony’s actions and choices in hickmanvengers doesn’t really help my point but to talk about tony + death in general, regardless of the universe, ‘death’ also doesn’t have to be the BadTM concept it’s usually thought of as. mcu tony canonically refers to himself as a phoenix, and the Afghanistan / Vietnamistan incident is metaphorically a ‘death’ for tony stark the charcter and his rebirth as Iron Man, the Golden Avenger. in any universe, tony’s hero narrative hinges on that rebirth and transformation as a symbol of his capacity for heroism and Goodness, of taking his ugly past and former ignorance and mistakes and transforming it into something wholly and purely driven by bravery and sacrifice. 

i mean, yes, sure, if ppl are going to sit there and only take the label at face-value: death = bad / awful / terrible / only referring to his past as a weapons manufacturer and merchant of death, then yes, that would be a shitty interpretation to swallow as a tony fan. but seeing as how comics is a medium that’s built on constantly evolving and changing characters / worlds / entire universes, death as ‘rebirth’ is a very justifiable and canonically valid reading of tony. 616 tony has died multiple times, literally and figuratively, and every time he’s rebuilt himself bigger and better and stronger. the connotations of death within hickman’s own narrative and world-building is heavily linked to metamorphosis and resurrection. the final act of his avengers run and the centrepiece of the secret war event ended with the revival of the 616 universe. not to get too philosophical and existential here but death isn’t even really an End in the comics medium bc nobody and nothing ever permanently ‘dies’; it’s not possible to associate the concept with a definitive ‘end’, which makes most of the negative imagery surrounding ‘one was death’ redundant. i’m all for intrepretations of ‘death’ that are closely interlinked, if not entirely hand-in-hand, with ideas of rebirth, rebuilding, evolution, etc.

anyway, avengers world is great and i fucking love it so even if i haven’t swayed your opinion, i wouldn’t let the quote override your enjoyment of the overall comic. which, i hope you do enjoy, bc the happiness doesn’t last in hickmanvengers. buckle in for the long haul my guy.

[therainbowjen]

ode to crashing

I had a conversation with you a few months ago that both broke me and mended me at the same time.

we had had a few too many Angry Orchards, unpacking the apartment I happen to be re-packing now. I explained to you everything that had happened to me in high school, or, rather, the highlights of it. the decline, the abuse, the rape, and the aftermath. the people who tried to figure it out & the ones who just let me slide, the supporters, the complacent, and the ones who held me down just as much. you had been telling me that you wished I would have told you everything about what happened to me; that I shouldn’t have carried the burden of being abused and trying to cope / survive alone. I don’t think I had realized until then how much you didn’t know, as I just kind of assumed that my story had been filled in through a peppering of stories throughout our years of friendship. I didn’t realize how much I had still locked up, and carried, even in some of my absolute closest friendships. and so now, I realize, you haven’t been made aware of how you really have changed me.

so let me, for a moment, take you down the road - down a road I know well, and a road that to this day keeps me anchored & sane. the gentle pull that keeps me in the present, and doesn’t allow the lingering effects of my full PTSD and post-rape syndrome take hold of me as it had before. you help me move forward.

the ones in high school helped me then - but you helped me then and now.

first, let me sing my ode to your “couches” - couches in quotation marks as I was rarely really on a couch. 

I’m glad I have no way of making you feel how I feel when my PTSD is running at full steam, but I can try to explain. imagine a constant, running script, the kinds that computers run to make computers do things, but visualize the letters and words, sentences and sentences, swirling past. That kind of speed is how your mind feels, and your heart as well. your heartbeat kind of runs fast, but yet it always has, you suppose.

( it hasn’t. actually, your heart rate is high because your body is in such repetitive terror, and this will later hit you when your absolute favorite psychologist will randomly take your temperature within 5 minutes of meeting you, and it’s slightly colder than 98.6. you assume each body has anomaly's - he explains that everyone runs at 98.6 unless your body is experiencing trauma, and in reality your parasympathetic system, aka your flight or flight, is running. it’s been running for 4 years straight, and finally, for the first time since it all happened, you finally believe yourself that you didn’t make this up. the nightmare is real. and you’re not. crazy. )

anyways, imagine laying in bed. imagine laying there with this speedy script, feeling alert at all times. you feel like at any moment in time you could jump out of bed and scream or fight, yet, you always feel that at any moment in time, he could jump through your window, or somehow sneak into your dorm and rap on your door. your roommate gets the door, he sweet talks her into moving, claiming he’s a friend of mine, and then he’s got you again and you can’t run away. so then you think to yourself, when can I leave here? he might know where I am. I’ve been here too long. he’s only up at Dayton, you think, and he could get into a car at any time. he could show up. I need to run, you scream internally, and completely disappear.

I only felt that tension release in one place, for a very long time - and that’s at all of your homes.

on the floor of that basement complex your sophomore year - the floor of your bedroom, in the apartment complex with the wooden stairs that climbed to God and made me feel detached from my bullshit on earth - the floor of that tiny bedroom you had in that crazy house party house - and finally, on the futon of that 5th year apartment. in those houses, I remember exact moments in time where I could hear the street chatter of drunk friends and gentle crickets, cars swooshing past, and general peace. 

I can still feel the moment one of the thoughts that gently popped into my brain, in the apartment complex with the wooden stairs as I peered out to the streets: things are okay here, and one day, you will feel this way all the time.

in some ways I attribute it to being somewhere transient, and untraceable, but frankly I know better now after living a pretty vagabond, transient existence in the last two years. I’ve made couch surfing an art in 2017, fluttering around the East Coast & Midwest (with a single visit to the Pacific in 2016) at an alarming rate. I felt safe in Los Angeles, and a peace akin to the moment above, but not at home. I have crashed in so many places yet sometimes I catch the “run, Jen, run” script in my veins, even in places where I know they shouldn’t be. and frankly, I’m terrified that when I stop my couchsurfing, I will be scared again, even though I’ve grown so much in the last two years. so I know it’s not that - the transience is no solution, only a quick balm on a deeper cut. 

I felt safe, and at home, in a city in my home state because I was with you in your home. 

To give me a handful of nights where my body relaxed even for a minute would be enough that I could never repay you. But frankly, I know it’s because I trust you with my whole soul and you are a best friend who’s importance cannot be understated. When I am scared, you make me feel better, yet are quick to cut off my irrational and bad thoughts regarding relationships, men, & my self worth when needed. 

I don’t feel that I have to be someone I’m not. I don’t feel that if I slip up, that you will stop being my friend, or leave me, or belittle me. I can make mistakes and you will stick around. I can be me without constant censure or control. You ground me without manipulating me. we exist as friends with no greater scheme on your end or mine, and there is no end goal besides being friends. neither of us are trying to hook up with the other and there has never been that dynamic at play. 

You have absolutely no idea how monumental and life changing that is to me. 

and, as well as the life-changing stuff, it is balanced with the silly things that remind me I am also a normal 24 year old woman. it isn’t this constant serious experience in which you feel like you’re walking on eggshells, or that I’m broken or someone you need to be extra careful with. We’re so dumb together, all the time, and that makes me feel normal, too, even though I can look at myself and see anything but that. I forget about my whole self and past when we’re together and that’s an incredible things. 

I went through a normal break up for the first time in my life at 24, where I was dumped and he was just selfish. not because he was abusive, not because I was crazy, not because our problem-based trajectory was going amok, but because of something so NORMAL as him being a fuckboy. In such as bizarre way, that is exciting to me, that I’m experiencing normal relationships, even if this one really really sucks! I have normal problems, mostly. Normal for a 24 year old. And it is absolutely incredible. You walk me through the normal problems and the horrible problems seamlessly and you don’t even know it.

Recently, I’ve had a vision in my head that I had kept locked away for a few years. I remember when I was in the worst bits of my PTSD episodes, I would fantasize about my own place, where the doors locked and he would never be able to get in. I imagined myself in front of my home with the keys, a caption saying “mine!” and knowing every day, when I came home, I’d be safe, unhurt, and untouched emotionally or physically. I remember praying and praying for those moments, and I knew they were real because of the floors & futons & couches I’ve slept on in all of your places, including the Ohio City one.

What I really want you to know is that when I eventually get into that place, and the doors lock, and whoever happens to inhabit it with me (future roommate or future man?) crawls into (my or their) bed, my couch will always, always be open to you, and I hope that you feel just as safe on it. 

love you forever, and ever, and ever.