#I’m starting an elevator cult thanks to her story

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[spine-buster]

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past.  Please be warned.

Word Count: 20,294

A/N: This is the longest chapter of the series thus far.  A lot happens.  A LOT.  So take a moment to take it all in lol.  We also learn a lot of Geneviève in this chapter, which kind of alludes to the Jacob & Geneviève series that is going to follow ‘Patience is a Virtue’ once it is finished.  As always, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

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Effie had no idea what she was doing.  No idea.  

It all started on Christmas Eve, when she was baking in her apartment.  She’d promised Levi and Jenna she’d make dessert – naturally – and was going to make a banoffee pie for everyone, complete with some homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings.  While shopping for all the ingredients to make the one banoffee pie, she thought of Matthew.  Matthew and the Tkachuks spending Christmas together in his condo.  

So she bought two of every ingredient.

‘This is stupid’ she thought to herself as she stared at all the ingredients on her counter.  ‘Why did you buy double?  The pie will barely last until Boxing Day, and God knows when the next time you’ll see Matthew is.’

She made two pies anyway.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were lovely.  Levi, Jenna, and Effie opened presents that morning.   They got her some new clothes she’d been eyeing at the mall during her last shopping trip, and a really fashionable scarf.  Effie loved it.  She’d even gotten a gift from Annica and Elias, who gave her a massive box full of makeup that they’d eyed together in Sephora.  Jacob and Geneviève gifted her a designer bag – well, she had to be told it was designer.  It was a Chanel 2:55 bag, black leather with gold hardware.  Jenna had to explain to her how nice this bag was, and how it was French – it was only natural that Geneviève got her a French designer handbag, being French herself – and how it was a big deal to own this bag.  Effie thought it was fashionable, but she didn’t understand how or why it was a “big deal”.  Regardless, she made sure to text the girls thank yous.  Jenna’s brother Sean, his partner Ivan, and their kids Amy and Dean were an amazing addition to the day.  They had a huge meal and lots of wine and her banoffee pie was a hit.  When Levi noticed Effie’s fatigue at around 6:30, he drove her back to her apartment.

But she wasn’t at her apartment anymore.  Instead, she found herself walking to Matthew’s apartment with a banoffee pie in her hands.

It couldn’t go to waste, right?

She wondered if his family had gone back to their hotel, or if they were staying at his place, or if they had even finished dinner – God, what if they hadn’t even finished dinner?! – or if they even ate sweet stuff, because with his dad as a former hockey player, were they even allowed it growing up?  Her mind was running a mile a minute.  Despite how fast it was going, she made the wise decision to slip through the open door as someone was leaving, meaning she didn’t have to ring the buzzer to be let in.  She nodded courteously to the concierge before walked towards the elevators.

Before she knew it, she was knocking at his door.  

She didn’t have to wait too long before it opened.  When it did, she was greeted with another girl, around her age, with brown hair and striking eyes.  They matched Matthew’s, so Effie could only guess that this was Taryn.  “Hello?” Taryn asked.

“Hi, I – you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Matthew’s,” she said, voice small but trying to make it as assertive as possible.  

“Come in,” Taryn moved to make way in the doorway, and Effie stepped in, boots and all.  There were much more shoes at the front than she was used to.  “You’re one of Matthew’s friends?  What did you say your name was?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

Taryn’s eyes lit up.  “You’re Effie?  You’re even prettier than what Matthew told us,” she said, smiling.

“Taryn!  Who is it?” Effie could hear Matthew scream from somewhere inside the condo.  

“It’s Effie!” she called back.

Effie heard the sound of something being dropped loudly, then footsteps rushing through the condo.  Taryn was giggling.  Soon enough, she saw Matthew round the corner, almost slipping on his socks.  “Effie,” he said, slightly breathless.

“Hi,” she said meekly.  “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“—you’re not bothering us at all—” both Matthew and Taryn said at the same time.

“—I just –I—I baked a banoffee pie,” she said, holding the pie up like it was the prize pig at a rodeo.

“A banoffee pie?!” Taryn repeated excitedly.  “Oh, yes!”

“Who is it?” another female voice was heard, and when Effie looked past Matthew, she saw a woman, who she could only assume was his mom, pop her head around the corner.  “Hello!”

“Did I hear the word pie?!” Keith called out loudly from somewhere in the condo.

“Oh my God this is a disaster,” Matthew mumbled underneath his breath.

“Come in, darling!” Chantal said as she approached Effie, Matthew, and Taryn.

“Mom, this is Effie,” Taryn said.

Chantel’s eyes went wide even though she tried not to let it show.  “Effie!  Effie Effie!” she exclaimed.  “It’s so very nice to finally meet you!”

“You as well,” she smiled slightly.  She hadn’t moved from her spot.  “I didn’t mean to intrude on Christmas—”

“Pie?!” Keith’s head popped out from the corner.  Once he saw the pie in Effie’s hands and all was confirmed, he smiled.  “Get in here with that pie!”

Taryn and Chantal laughed, but Effie and Matthew let out little nervous giggles.  He was obviously happy to see her – ecstatic, really – but he wished he has…prepared for her arrival.  He knew his family could be a lot; he could have talked to them and warned them to be on their best behaviour.  “Here, let me hold the pie so you can take off your shoes,” he offered.

“I’ll get your jacket,” Taryn smiled.

After taking off her outerwear, Effie walked into the familiar condo holding pie.  As she rounded the corner, she saw Keith standing beside the kitchen sink drying plates and glasses.  An extremely tall body, who she could only imagine was Brady, was washing the dishes.  “Guys,” Matthew said loudly so the men could hear over the running water.  Both looked behind them, and Brady shut off the tap.  “This is Effie,” he introduced her, his hand on her upper back.  “Effie, this is my little brother Brady and my dad Keith.”

Effie noticed Brady’s eyebrows raise a little, but Keith smiled at her and looked directly down at the pie in her hands.  “What kind of pie is that, Effie?”

“Oh!  Um, it’s a homemade banoffee pie,” she said.

“Homemade?”

“Mhm,” she nodded quickly.  She placed it down on the island and began taking apart the Tupperware keeping it safe.  “I uh – I don’t know if Matthew has—” she stuttered, looking up at him.  Surely he didn’t tell his family about her job.  “I work at a café, and I make all the baked treats and breads and desserts and stuff, and I baked a pie for Christmas for my brother, and I decided to make an extra one, and, well, here we are,” she said, taking off the top to reveal the pie to everyone.  “It’s a homemade graham cracker pie crust, then homemade toffee, then bananas, then some homemade whipped cream and 70% dark chocolate shavings.”

Keith turned his head slowly towards Brady.  “Get the plates,” he deadpanned.

Brady acted quick.  Chantal began to scream about tea and coffee being served with the pie so she began to make some quickly.  Taryn set the table.  Keith got the forks.  They worked like a well-oiled machine so they could eat and enjoy this pie.  Effie, for her part, felt cemented against the island, Matthew right beside her.  “You okay?” he whispered so his family wouldn’t hear.  

She nodded her head.  “I’m sorry for intruding—”

“Don’t apologize,” he shook his head.  “You somehow managed to know that the way to a Tkachuk’s heart is through their stomach.”

As the Tkachuks and Effie sat down at Matthew’s dining table, Keith handed Effie the cake knife (“Brought from St. Louis, because it’s not like Matthew has this shit”).  She cut the pie into six equal pieces and scooped them up into everyone’s plates.  Once everyone had a piece, she sat in her seat beside Matthew.  

Brady took the first bite.  Effie watched cautiously, but soon, she saw his eyes roll to the back of his head.  “Are you kidding me?!” he said with a mouth full of pie.

Keith soon followed with a grunt.  “Do you ship to St. Louis?”

“This is phenomenal, Effie,” Chantal nodded, eating her second bite.

Effie smiled bashfully.  Underneath the table, she could feel Matthew grab her hand.

***

Everybody ate their slices of pie for as long as possible, savouring each bite they put into their mouths.  They asked Effie some questions – how she’d spent Christmas, where she lived in Calgary, how she happened to meet Matthew – and seemed interested in her answers.  She could tell right off the bat that there was a sort of banter between the family members that was unique to them.  She certainly had never experienced anything quite like it, with the cult’s rigid rules and all-around lack of love, but it was so, so clear that the Tkachuks loved each other to bits, and that they did it because they loved each other, and that it was all in good fun.  She thought Matthew was so lucky to grow up with a family like this.

As they cleared the plates, Brady assumed rinsing duty as Keith loaded the plates and mugs into the dishwasher.  Effie found herself next to Taryn.  “If Matthew gains ten pounds by the next time he comes home, I’ll know why,” she chuckled.

Effie laughed too, knowing that Matthew purposely paced himself with her baked treats or only forced himself to have one (after his taste test, obviously) or else he’d fail the physical next season.  “I should get going and leave you guys be,” she said.

“Oh no no no, you can’t leave now,” Taryn said.  “We’re about to play Monopoly and need a neutral person around to be the banker and so Matthew doesn’t try to kill Brady.”

At that, the family chuckled.  “Yeah, you definitely need to stick around, Effie,” Brady chipped in.  “That way mom doesn’t feel sorry for Matthew and sneak him fifties like last Christmas.”

Effie smiled slightly.  She liked that they wanted her to become an active participant, but she had no clue what Taryn or Brady meant.  “What’s Monopoly?”

Everybody’s head whipped around to look at her.  It was quiet for a moment before Matthew spoke up.  “It’s a board game, Effie,” he said casually, like a lot of people didn’t know what Monopoly was.  “You buy property and build houses and hotels and collect rent and stuff.”

“And stuff?  God, Matthew—” Brady began.

“Oh shut up, Brady—”

Effie got slightly nervous as Matthew and Brady went back and forth about Monopoly.  She wished Matthew would look at her to calm her down, but he wasn’t because he was rolling his eyes at his brother.  “I—um, can I ask a question?” she asked Taryn.

“Of course.”

“When you say banker, do I have to do, like, interest payments and compound—”

“Nononono,” Taryn shook her head automatically.  “It’s basic math.  Addition and subtraction.”

Effie calmed down considerably, but she was still nervous.  Just as she was about to open her mouth and ask another question, Chantal piped up instead.  “Would you like a pen and a piece of paper, Effie?” she asked gently.

Effie nodded.  “I—I—yes please, it’ll…it’ll help me.”

“Matthew,” Chantal said sternly, grabbing his attention, just as he was probably about to put Brady in a headlock.  “Go get Effie a pen and a piece of paper.”

“Why would she need that to be—” Keith began.

“It helps Effie to write it down, like me,” Taryn said sternly, not letting her dad finish the question.  “Go get it from your printer,” she directed her brother.

The last thing Taryn did before leading Effie back to the dining table was smile at her.

***

There was a lot of screaming.

Monopoly was intense, to say the least.  The Tkachuks got really into it.  It took a while for her to get used to, but once she was in the swing of it, everything just sort of clicked.  This was a family tradition, apparently, and Matthew was looking for retribution from last year after he had to mortgage off all his properties to Brady.  Taryn was determined not to come in last place again.  Chantal was constantly telling the kids to apologize to one another for calling each other names or taunting or swearing.  Keith was doing the same.  More screaming.  More taunting.  More “Pay up, buddy!” and “Gimme the cash, dweeb!” and “Don’t buy it don’t buy it don’t buy it!!!” and “Sell me the property, asshole!” and money coming in and out of the bank or in and out of the ‘Free Parking’ space.  Effie was enthralled by it all.  

What she was enthralled about the most was how much they loved each other.  Yes, they called each other names.  Yes, they raised their voices.  Yes, there was a certain kind of dynamic that only they had that may have seemed weird to outsiders or to people who were not used to it.  But above everything, there was love.  Love was so apparent.  It was apparent when Keith asked Chantal if she wanted more tea and refilled her mug.  It was apparent when the boys couldn’t do basic math and Effie would have to correct them with their calculations and everybody would be laughing and teasing them.  It was apparent when Brady and Taryn teamed up at one point against Matthew, only for Taryn to betray Brady and team up with Matthew later.  

It was apparent when they included her in absolutely everything without hesitation.

At just past midnight, Keith was declared the winner.  Matthew came in close second, and kept going on and on about how if he hadn’t landed on one of Keith’s hotels three times he would have won.  Taryn came third, but declared herself the winner since she had Park Place and Boardwalk.  Brady came fourth – a measly showing.  Chantal didn’t mind coming fifth.  

Effie had gone to the washroom while the family packed everything up, and when she emerged, Matthew was waiting for her right outside the door.  It startled her a little, but she smiled.  “Everything okay?”

“You look exhausted,” he said, knowing that, despite having fun, the whole night was probably mentally and emotionally taxing on her, just like their first date had been.  He could only imagine what had been going on in her head during the length of the Monopoly game.  “D’you want to stay over?”

Almost immediately, Effie shook her head.  “I couldn’t—”

“We’re not doing much tomorrow, just having a lazy morning in before maybe doing some shopping—”

“—Matthew, it’s okay, I’ll go home—"

“—But I don’t want you walking home this late at night—”

“—So I’ll call a—”

“Effie?” Chantal’s sweet voice rang through the apartment.  She and Matthew turned their heads to see her standing at the end of the hallway.  “You’re staying over, right?  Do you prefer one or two pillows dear?  I’ll steal them from Brady,” she didn’t even wait for the answer before walking away.

Effie could feel the hairs on her neck stand.  She knew she’d have to do it in a week, but this would be the first time she’d spend the night with people other than her family or Matthew.  She thought she would have a week to mentally prepare for something like this, but even at the chalet in Banff, she and Matthew would be sharing a room – she wasn’t intruding on a space where people were already set to sleep.  Matthew saw almost immediately that her body stiffened and she because anxious, and he responded immediately.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She gulped.  “It’s only ever been you and—well, in People’s Dominion, it was when I was sent to live with Abraham as his wife—”

“Okay, stay here,” he cut her off.  “I’ll go talk to them.  Just stay here,” he repeated, dipping down to kiss her quickly before rushing down the hall and towards his family where they were no doubt getting ready for bed.

She felt so embarrassed.  She knew they were lovely people – she could see that, and she experienced it for the last few hours – but her nerves got the best of her.  Houses full of people were a different beast.  She didn’t really have fond memories of being surrounded by people she barely knew, especially since they would usually judge her on how good of a wife she was, how polite her manners were, how well she listened to her husband, how well she cooked and cleaned, how often she prayed, how often she got pregnant, how she couldn’t maintain her pregnancies—

“Oh thank God,” she suddenly heard Taryn’s voice.  “At least now I won’t freeze to death from you hogging the covers.”

“I do not hog the covers,” Matthew chastised his sister.

“The quicker you admit it the quicker we can move on,” Taryn shot back.  “Your couch is so much more comfortable anyways.  Brady and I will each take a part of the sectional.  We’ll be good.”

Effie’s hands were clammy.  Was Taryn just saying that to be nice?  Or did she really not mind?  From the sounds of it, she was supposed to be sharing with Matthew tonight, but now those plans were uprooted.  Effie decided she was no use standing in front of the bathroom door in the hallway, and that his family were already probably starting to resent her and wonder why they were being so nice and asked her to stay over in the first place.  She walked to the end of the hallway and saw most of his family standing around – Brady had two pillows in his arms, and Chantal had a set of sheets.  Keith was already in his pajamas. 

“I’m sorry,” she told everyone, standing at the foot of the hallway with her hands bunched together.  “If this messes everything up, I can just go—”

“Nonsense,” Keith said sternly, shaking his head.  “We have the space.  Taryn will appreciate not sharing a bed with her brother.  You might be the only person here who wants to.”

“Wow, thanks dad,” Matthew smirked.

“You have a big enough ego,” he quipped before looking back at Effie.  “It’s fine, Effie.  If you’re most comfortable there, then we’re all comfortable with it too.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, still nervous and anxious that they were all just saying that just to say it.  “I—I really do appreciate it.”

She could feel Matthew put his hand on the small of her back reassuringly before he saluted his family.  “Good night folks.  Sleep tight.”

“Effie, you’re allowed to kick him if he hogs the blankets,” Brady said as he laid the pillows down on the sofa.  

“Good night, Braeden,” Matthew said sternly as he and Effie turned around to walk to his room.

***

Effie woke up the next morning beside Matthew, and early – really early.  He was still soundly asleep when she looked over at him.  Her anxiousness about the entire situation last night meant that they’d basically stayed on opposite ends of his bed the entire night.  Matthew had tried to calm her down and talk to her, but it was of little use.  It was only sometime during the night that they ended up touching, with Matthew’s arm extended across the bed and on her midriff – literally just so he could touch her.  When Effie woke up and saw his face buried into his pillow facing her and his arm dead weight on her body, she couldn’t help but smile.  Any time they slept in the same bed – which was more and more these days – and she didn’t punch him and give him a black eye, it was a success.  

She pulled herself out of bed delicately, without waking him up, and walked into his ensuite to wash her face.  She’d slept in one of his old Calgary Flames training camp shirts and a pair of trackpants, and as she looked at herself in the mirror, using her fingers to brush through her short hair haphazardly, she heard the sound of plates being moved in the kitchen.  It was faint, so whoever in there was trying to be quiet, obviously assuming everyone was still asleep.  

Instead of getting back into bed with Matthew, she decided to investigate.

Opening and closing his bedroom door slowly and quietly, she walked down the hallway to the kitchen where she saw Keith with oven mitts on, putting a tray of hashbrowns into the oven.  He was still in his pajamas, but he had an apron on – it was quite the sight.  Two pans were on the stove – she could only assume they were for bacon and eggs – and stacks of containers of fresh fruit were on the counter.

“Good morning Mr. Tkachuk,” she greeted him.  Her voice was low enough so she wouldn’t make too much noise, but it still startled him slightly.

When he turned around and saw her, his face broke out into a smile.  “Good morning, Effie.  And don’t you dare call me Mr. Tkachuk,” he said.  “It’s Keith.  Now where are those damn eggs…” he turned back towards the stove.  

It was a sight to behold – a man in a kitchen with an apron on cooking up a storm.  This would have never happened two years ago.  Effie didn’t think Abraham even knew how to boil an egg.  But God forbid his meat was a little pink on the inside – he would get so angry about it.  One of the first things Effie learned growing up, after being able to read the Bible, was cook.  As a woman, she needed to learn how to nourish the men’s body physically because only the Bible could nourish someone spiritually, emotionally, socially…pretty much everything else, really.  It was also one of the first things she had to ‘perfect’ when she married Abraham and became his fake wife.  She hated cooking for him.  He always found something wrong with it.  “You can go back to bed, if you’d like,” Effie offered as she watched him open the carton of eggs.  “I can make everyone breakfast.  It’s no big deal.  I mean you’re technically on vacation.”

“No offence, but it is a big deal,” Keith smiled as he turned to look at her.  “It’s a Tkachuk family tradition that I make the Boxing Day Brunch after Chantal slaved away preparing our Christmas meal,” he said.  “I’d be breaking a 23-year tradition.”

Effie couldn’t help but smile.  Well, this was new.  “Want me to at least cut the fruit?”

Keith paused, looking between the stack of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, kiwis, grapes, and bananas, and Effie.  “Alright, get over here,” he digressed.  

Effie started by washing everything.  Keith was busy cracking the dozen eggs in a big bowl.  They were quiet as they worked together, but then Keith looked over at her.  “You’re the one who was a member of a cult, right?” he asked.

At that moment, something weird happened.  Effie’s body didn’t stiffen.  It didn’t seize up.  She didn’t feel a sudden rush of anxiety.  Instead, all she did was nod her head.  “Yes.  That was me.  It was called the People’s Dominion of Christ,” she informed him.  “Matthew told you?”

“He mentioned it over the summer when he was back home,” Keith said.  “And you escaped?”

Effie nodded again.  “In January it’ll be two years since I left and joined…you know, the real world.”

“What was it like?”

“Well, it was a religious cult.  We were heavily focused on our leader – Abraham.  He was our prophet.  He constantly had these visions from God and told us he spoke directly with God about things pertaining to, like, the cult.  How we lived, how we dressed, what we were supposed to do, about praying and reading the Bible and all that stuff.  It was all very strict, as you can imagine.  Especially for women.”

“What was everyday life like?”

Effie shrugged.  “Every stereotype you can basically think of, really.  In the cult, we weren’t allowed TV or cell phones or anything like that.  Everything was very strict and regimented.  Women were seen as childbearers and that’s basically it.  I had ten siblings—and I mean, most women had more than four or five kids.  A lot of us got married young, too.  I got married to the prophet when I was fourteen.  He said he had a revelation from God that I would bear him the next son of God.”

Keith visibly grimaced at the thought.  He was smart enough to know what that entailed, and he wasn’t going to go there.  And, remembering Chantal’s question in the summer of “Was she abused?” and Matthew’s reply with a nod, he knew what he needed to know at this stage.  “It was courageous of you to leave everything you knew,” he said diplomatically, and he watched as Effie nodded her head.  “What was the real world like for you?”

“It was really scary at first,” Effie admitted.  “My brother’s wife is a teacher, so when I came to live with them in Calgary, she taught me how to read and write, math, science, geography…all that stuff.  Then um, Jacob Markstrom’s wife, Geneviève…she taught me a lot too.  More, like, advanced concepts.  The learning was great.  I was eating it all up.  It was everything else that was scary.”

“Everything else?”

“Like, the social world.  I actually barely left the house the entire first year of me being out because I was so scared.  I thought because I sinned by escaping the cult God was going to, like, punish me somehow.  I didn’t wear pants or jeans or whatever for a full year.  There was just a whole bunch of stuff I didn’t do until I started actually interacting with people.  But ever since I have, like with Matthew…it’s been amazing.  I’ve been learning so much.  I’ve been experiencing so many new things and it’s been so…beautiful,” she said.  “I can’t think of a better word.  It’s been beautiful.”

Keith was smiling at this point.  “So my son’s been helping you then.”

“Loads,” she nodded.  “Because of what happened to me in the cult and what I went through, I have a pretty big need to appear perfect to other people.  In the cult we always had to be virtuous, right?  Representative of the church – the cult – and God and Jesus.  I also constantly had the pressure of being the perfect woman, the perfect wife and all that.  And that led to me having difficulties with anxiety, and having the need to appease everyone.  But even on a more day-to-day level, it means I’ve never done lots of normal, fun things.  The first time I went to a bar was because of Matthew.  And, like, I’m sure he’s told you we’re going to Banff with a bunch of guys from the team next week for New Year’s.  I’ve never been west of Calgary, so it will be great for me to experience.”

“Banff is beautiful.  You’ll love it,” Keith agreed.  “I’m glad to hear my son’s been helping you figuring everything out.  Matthew can be a pest sometimes but it’s nice to know he isn’t in this situation.”

“I’ve never known him to be a pest,” Effie admitted.  “Only on the ice, really, when I watch the games.  But off the ice he’s been nothing but patient and kind with me.  You know he introduced me to candy?”

Keith chuckled.  “Candy?  Really?”

“We weren’t allowed candy in the cult.  He brought me to a grocery store and bought every brand of candy available so I could try them all,” she explained.  “Said that were better than my original choice, which were raisins.”

“Well, he’s right,” Keith mused.  “What else?”

“Tomahawk steaks,” she said, which garnered another chuckle from him.  “Netflix.  Swearing—”

“—Damn that boy—"

“—Corn dogs—”

“Corn dogs?!  You’d never had a corn dog before?”

Effie shook her head.  “It’s been a steep learning curve.  But he’s been really patient with me.  He didn’t even laugh at me when I asked him if he had ever heard of Starbucks."

"I have to admit, Effie, when he told us about you in the summer, I was very…apprehensive,” he began, pouring the eggs into the pan.  “It had nothing to do with you.  I just wasn’t sure Matthew was, well, mature enough to handle something like this.  You can appreciate that these types of situations don’t happen all that often.”

“Of course.”

“But as a father it’s nice to know how great he’s being.  I’m actually shocked that he hasn’t done anything dumb yet.”

Effie snorted.  “Nah, he’s been great.  I can say only good things.”

“You’ve been to games?”

“Oh, loads,” she smiled.  “One of my first big outings was to a Flames game.  Matthew was offended that I was wearing a Markstrom jersey.  It was really fun.  I didn’t really know what hockey was until I came to live in Calgary.”

Keith’s eyes widened.  “Not even hockey?!”

She shook her head.  “Not even hockey.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.  But I like it.  I mean – I’m no expert.  I have no idea what’s going on half the time.  But I love the sounds and the atmosphere.  And it’s a big part of everybody’s life – Levi, Geneviève and Jacob, Matthew…I think it’s only natural that I find a place in it too, you know?”

Keith nodded his head.  He seemed appreciative of the fact that, despite how much she was learning, she was making room for hockey because it was so important to Matthew and other people around her.  To Keith, it showed character.  Not everybody was that eager to learn something new – something as trivial as hockey, when there were other more important things in the world to learn and understand.  “Is there anything else I should know about you, Effie?”

Effie considered the question.  It was a loaded question, sure, and there were so many different things she could say, but through all the thoughts swirling around in her head, only one came out: “Just that I’m trying really hard.”

“Hey,” a sleepy, groggy voice interrupted their conversation.  Both Keith and Effie looked over their shoulder to see Matthew standing at the foot of the hallway, his hair sticking out in every direction, still wearing his pajamas.  For his part, Matthew had woken up to a cold bed, and he didn’t like that; Effie brought so much warmth to it.  “Dad, aren’t you supposed to be making breakfast yourself?” he asked.

Keith smiled mischievously as he looked at Effie.  “See?” he raised his eyebrows and nodded towards his son, obviously referring to the tradition of him cooking brunch for the family.  “Why don’t you take Effie and go and wash up?  By the time you’re done the bacon will be sizzling.”

“But Mr. Tkachuk—”

“Go,” he directed her, and she had no choice but to accept.  

She left the sink and walked towards Matthew, and only once they were down the hall enough that Keith couldn’t see did Matthew wrap his arms around her.  “I missed you,” he mumbled into her ear as they entered his bedroom again.

Effie laughed.  “I was gone for like, fifteen minutes.”

“Too long,” he said, spinning her around in his arms so they were chest-to-chest.  He leaned his head down to kiss her, and couldn’t stop.  

“MMMMMatthew,” she cooed in between kisses.  “Matthew we should get ready.”

“Nuh uh.  He was lying.”

She smiled and Matthew kissed her teeth.  “No he wasn’t.”

“Yes he was.”

“Matthew.”

He pouted.  “One more kiss,” he whispered.

“One.”

“Just one.”

He attached his lips to hers again, except this time, it was smouldering, not just the quick little kisses of earlier, and this time, it was Effie he couldn’t keep her lips off of his, and it was Effie who cradled his head in her hands to keep him there, and it was Effie who pressed her body up against Matthew’s.  It wasn’t until minutes later, when both of them had to catch their breath, that Matthew smiled.  “Just one, huh?”

She scowled at him.  “Shut up.”

***

Breakfast was delicious.  The boys apparently liked bacon, because there was more bacon than anything else on the table, and they chowed it down like it was the last bacon on earth.  Taryn begged Effie to come with them to the mall, and Effie couldn’t say no to her.  She made a quick pitstop back to her apartment to take a shower and change, then met them at CORE, which was just down the street from her, anyway.  They split up in threes at first – Keith, Chantal, and Brady going one way while Matthew and Effie followed Taryn to Aritzia (since she couldn’t get it in St. Louis).  Effie spent the afternoon trying her hardest to give fashion advice to Taryn, though all the things she knew about fashion she learned from Geneviève anyway.  Matthew would pitch in every now and then but Taryn always rolled her eyes at his advice.  Taryn ended up getting a heap of new clothes, and Effie was suckered into getting an oversized knit turtleneck she knew would be of use in a few days in Banff.  Matthew slapped his credit card down for both purchases, despite Effie having the cash.

They met back up with Keith, Chantal, and Brady for a food court lunch.  Brady and Keith carried bags from Hugo Boss, and Chantal even had a bag from Holt Renfrew.  They had lunch in one of the restaurants in the mall before going back to Matthew’s apartment to relax and pack the last of their things into their suitcases.  Before long, Effie was helping Taryn carry her suitcases to the elevator so they could meet the taxis downstairs.  

“He really likes you, you know,” she said as they were alone in the elevator together.

“Matthew?”

Taryn nodded her head.  “When he mentioned you the first time this summer, we were all a bit skeptical, but after seeing you guys together last night and today, I can see that he really likes you.  I don’t think he’d be doing all the helping-you-figure-out-life-post-cult stuff for anyone else.”

Effie bit her bottom lip.  “Why me, then?”

“Because despite what you’ve been through, you’re authentically yourself and Matthew likes authentic people,” Taryn said.  “You have this really interesting balance of not letting your past define you, but you also acknowledge your past and use it as a means to push forward and learn and grow.  You’re not stuck to it.  And I think that’s the most authentic thing somebody can do and be.”

So Taryn knew too.  And understood.  Effie thought it would have probably been obvious last night when she asked what Monopoly was, but maybe something was said in the summer that said everything before they even met her.  “For what it’s worth,” Effie began, “I really like your brother too.  I hope you—you and your family can see that.”

“Oh trust me, we do,” Taryn said with a little giggle and a mischievous grin.  “Like, it’s glaringly obvious.”

“Is it really?”

“You’re a bit quieter about it, but Matthew’s obsessed with you.  He’s never been like this with someone.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Effie asked as she felt the elevator come to a stop.

“The best thing,” Taryn said as the doors opened.  

Matthew was waiting on the other side, designated to help Keith load the suitcases into the SUV taxi they’d ordered to the airport once it got there.  When he saw his sister and Effie smiling in the elevator, he got skeptical.  “What’s got you two smiling?” he asked, taking their suitcases.

“Nothing,” Taryn mused, making Matthew even more confused.  She and Effie gave each other one last look before stepping out of the elevator to walk through to the lobby of his apartment building.

“Hey!  Come on!” he trailed behind them, demanding answers.

Taryn looked over her shoulder to stare at her brother, but didn’t miss a pace as she walked.  “Effie just confirmed you talk in your sleep sometimes.”

Matthew’s face contorted into something Effie had never seen before, and she burst out laughing.  “I do not!!!!!” he exclaimed, causing Taryn to laugh out loud.  “I do not talk in my sleep!!!!!”

Effie had never said such a thing, obviously – Matthew slept like a rock – but Taryn seized the opportunity to tease her older brother.  “Get me off the horsey mommy!” she mimicked his voice tauntingly – obviously referring to something he’d said in his sleep however many years ago they still made fun of him for.  

“Taryn!!!”

The SUV was just pulling up to the front door of the condo building as Effie and Taryn rounded the corner.  Keith was standing with his jacket on, and when he finally saw his daughter, he shook his head.  “What’s he screaming about now?”

“Not talking in his sleep.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake…” Keith rolled his eyes, causing Effie to giggle.  It was hilarious to see Matthew’s family torture him all in good fun.  “Effie, is he this whiny with you?”

“No.”

“Thank God.”

“I do not talk in my sleep.  You’re being mean,” he chastised Taryn as he came around the corner too, still dragging the suitcases behind him.  “And you!” he nodded his head towards Effie.  “You just staying silent!  Being complacent!  You two are as thick as thieves already, aren’t you?”

“You bet,” Taryn answered for them, sticking her tongue out at her brother playfully, who did it right back at her before helping Keith load them into the trunk.  

Once the entire family was downstairs, Effie watched as Brady loaded the last of the suitcases in the back while Keith and Chantal spoke to the driver about getting to the airport.  Once he shut the trunk door, he turned towards her.  “It was amazing to finally meet you, Effie.  Take it easy and make sure to kick Matthew if he gets out of line, okay?”

And then it happened again.

He went in for a hug, like any normal person would do, and his hand grazed her shoulder to pull her in.  Except when it did, she flinched again.  Dramatically.  Like, jumped almost a foot away from him dramatically.  He even let out a shocked “Whoa!” at her action and backed up to give her space.  “Oh God, Effie—”

“—I’m s-s-sorry Brady—”

“—It’s alright, I should have remembered, Matthew told me and I forgot—”

“Everything okay?” Matthew’s voice suddenly asked as he appeared around the car behind Brady.  He eyed his brother and noticed he and Effie were standing a foot away from each other.  

“We’re all good,” Effie smiled, immediately calming him down.  If she was smiling, then it was all good.  “We were just saying goodbye.”

“I told her to kick you if you get out of line, too,” Brady covered quickly.  

“She won’t need to.  I’m a good boy,” Matthew grumbled.  

“Effie!” Keith’s voice could be heard screaming out of the car window.  Matthew and Effie walked over to see him and Chantal already seated in the backseat of the car.  Chantal was leaning over, looking over his shoulder.  “You can kick him if he gets out of line,” he echoed Brady sentiments.

Effie snorted.  “I don’t think I’ll need to, but thank you for the permission,” she said as she felt Matthew’s hand go to the small of her back.  

“I second that,” Taryn commented from the backseat.

“You third it,” Brady said as he slipped into the passenger’s seat.  “I said it first.”

“It was so lovely to meet you Effie,” Chantal piped in.  “Have fun and stay safe in Banff.  You’re going to love it.”

“Thank you, Chantal—”

“Yes, it was nice to finally meet you,” Keith said too.  “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon, Effie.”

“Hopefully.”

Effie backed up so Matthew could say his goodbyes to his family, hugging his dad through the window and giving a kiss to his mom and sister in the backseat.  He saluted Brady and said something that made him howl in laughter before saying goodbye to his dad one more time.  Matthew backed up, and Keith waved at he and Effie one last time as he rolled up the window and the driver began slowing driving through the semi-circle.  Matthew and Effie waved after them.  Matthew didn’t stop until the car wasn’t in sight anymore.

For someone who ran away from her family, the fact that he stayed outside in the cold, brutal Calgary winter just to wave goodbye to his family made Effie think about how much he probably missed them.  Though she didn’t miss her family, she knew Matthew missed his every day.  “Is the first day always the hardest?” she asked.

Matthew nodded silently, wrapping an arm around her.  “Come on.  Let’s go inside.”

When they were back in the solitude of his apartment, Effie could see Matthew pacing awkwardly.  She knew he was probably overcome with emotion at his family leaving, but this wasn’t the usual way he showed it.  Matthew wore his heart on his sleeve – Effie knew when he was angry, when he was happy, sad, anxious, whatever – but, this she couldn’t read.  “Is everything okay?” she asked, putting her hand on his forearm.  

Matthew looked down at her.  She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.  “I got you a Christmas present,” he said nervously.

Effie furrowed her brows.  “That’s what you’re nervous about?”

“No—Yes—I—I just didn’t know how you’d react because I—well, I know you didn’t get me anything.”

“There’s no reason for to be nervous, Matthew,” she said, cupping his face in her hands.  “That’s very thoughtful of you.  Thank you.”

“It won’t be as nice as the Chanel bag Geneviève got you,” he tried to crack a joke.

Effie smiled.  “She told you about that?”

“I had to make sure we didn’t get you the same thing,” he said.  “Let me go get it.”  He paced over to his Christmas tree and pulled the lone tiny box with a gold bow that was still sitting underneath it.  Effie hadn’t even noticed it there.  When he brought it back to her, he handed it to her gently and she took it.  “If you don’t like it or whatever, I can exchange it or take it back—"

“I’m going to love it because you got it for me, Matthew,” she interrupted him.  “Why’re you so nervous about this?”

“Just open it.”

She ripped off the wrapping paper delicately, revealing a robin-egg blue box with the words “Tiffany & Co” on the lid.  She looked up at Matthew.  “I guess this is a nice jewelry company,” she said.

Matthew snorted.  “Every woman in the Western world knows that jewelry company…except you.”

Effie would have to search it up when she got home…whenever that was.  She opened the box and saw a velvet pouch, the opened that and emptied its contents onto her hand.  What dropped out was something beautiful – a delicate and dainty gold chain with a gold pendant.  Upon closer inspection, Effie realized it was a cursive, lower-case ‘e’.  “Matthew…” she whispered, a smile growing on her face.  

“I know how important your name is to you—cause it’s yours now,” he said, as if he needed to justify such an amazing gift.  “And I just thought you should carry it with you everywhere you go as a reminder that you get to make your own decisions now.”

Her smile grew even wider, knowing the thought Matthew put into it.  The necklace was perfect.  It was absolutely perfect and she couldn’t have asked for anything better.  “Can you help me put it on?”

Matthew smiled.  “I don’t know if my fat fingers will be able to do the clasp, but sure.”

She unclasped it for him and held it against her decolletage as he moved behind her.  It took a few tries and a frustrated grunt, but eventually, he got it.  He let the chain fall on the back of her neck, and she let go of it too, now securely around her neck and presenting for the world to see.  She took out her phone and switched it to selfie move so she could see what it looked like on.  It was stunning.  So simple but so classic.  Effie never wanted to take it off.  As she admired it, Matthew wrapped his arms around her and laid his chin on top of her head dramatically, causing her to giggle.  Since her phone was already on selfie mode, she snapped a quick photo.  Matthew took it one step further and placed a kiss on her temple, and she snapped another quick photo before locking her phone and spinning around in his arms.  “I love it,” she said, bringing her hands up to cup his face once more like she was doing before.  “Thank you so much.”

Matthew couldn’t hold back anymore.  He leaned down and began to kiss her, slow and passionate and with everything in him, because he had everything to give her.  As they kissed in his kitchen, he reached underneath her ass and picked her up so he could place her on the island.  Instinctively, her legs wrapped around him – exactly what he wanted – and his hands wandered everywhere, from over her thighs and squeezing the flesh there, up towards her breasts where she pushed herself further against his body.  When his hands wandered underneath her shirt and he felt her body shiver slightly, he pulled away.  “Couch or bed?” he asked her.

Effie was hesitant – it was almost like she needed to regroup after all the kissing.  “Bed,” she finally decided.  “B—but…”

“But what?”

“You’ve just gotta go slow, okay?”

Matthew nodded.  “I promise.”

He picked her up and began carrying her through his condo and towards his bedroom with her legs wrapped securely around him.  He lay her down on the foot of the bed gently and when she noticed she was there she immediately moved back so that her head was on the pillows.  He followed her, crawling up to her and over her body.  “You okay?” he asked.

Effie nodded.  “Kiss me, Matthew.”

“Gladly.”

They made out for a long time.  A long time.  So long that Matthew got tired of holding himself up above her, so he lowered himself, then lower, then lower, then he was practically on top of her, and he quickly thought about how uncomfortable that must have been for her, so he rolled off her and onto his side, except he brought Effie’s body with him, and with an arm tucked under her neck and his other arm holding her close, she draped her leg over his and his thigh could feel how warm her core was through her pants, and it made his body feel like it was on fire, and…and…oh God he was in fucking heaven.  Being with Effie was like being in heaven.  Her soft lips, her soft skin, the warmth of her body…it was all divine.  

Then she tugged on his shirt to get it off, so he did the same.

Then he kissed down her neck and collarbone, and she let out hot breaths and moans.  

Then he rolled her back on her back.

Then she – she – worked to unclasp her bra, and threw it off to the side, and Matthew continued to what was quickly becoming his favourite activity – tongue dragging along Effie’s skin, over her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, and hearing her moan in pleasure.  “Fuck, Matthew…” she let out a shaky breath.

“You like that, huh?” he asked quickly before moving to her other breast, looking up at her for her answer.

She nodded her head quickly.  “You make me feel so good.”

He began massaging her other breast with his hand and she arched her back slightly.  He never knew a girl who was this sensitive to it all, but it wasn’t like he was complaining.  Plus, he knew she’d never experienced it before, and had only experienced it with him, so he had to admit he took some pride in knowing he was able to make her feel this way.  

He worked on her breasts for a while, until he was practically drunk on them, before her little mewls and little moans let out a “Kiss me, Matty” that almost drove him insane with lust.  He popped her nipple out of his mouth and moved up, laying on his side again and pulling her body against him before giving her sloppy, wet, tongues-everywhere kisses.

His free hand wandered to massage her breast again, which caused her top stop kissing him so she could moan.

His free hand then wandered to her ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh there, which caused her to drape her leg over his thigh again and allowed him to feel how wet she’d become.

His free hand then took a chance, wandering around her ass and in between her legs, feeling for a second exactly how wet she’d become, which caused her to bring her hands up against his chest and push him away, telling him a strong and sobering, “Stop.”

He stopped.

They were farther apart now, but still close.  Effie’s eyes had practically popped open, bringing her back down to reality.  She hadn’t seen Abraham – a plus.  She didn’t feel guilty about feeling pleasure – another plus.  She just didn’t know what he was doing.  “Why was your hand there?” she asked.

Matthew couldn’t believe that he was going to lie there with blue balls and explain to her the concept of fingering.  “I—I was—I was going to make you feel good using my hand---my fingers,” he said shakily.  

“How?”

Okay, so this was going to become an anatomy lesson.  By him.  This was a fucking disaster.  “I was—you know how you’re wet down there right now?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I was going to take my fingers,” he held his hand up in position to show her, “and I was going to—I was gonna rub your clit—your clitoris.”

Effie furrowed her brows.  “And that would have made me feel good?” she asked.

Matthew nodded his head.  “Could you feel my erection on your other leg?” he asked.  Effie nodded her head shyly.  “Well, if you would have put your hand down my pants and started, um, like stroking it, you would have made me feel good too.”

“Would your fingers have made me orgasm?” she asked again.

“It might have, depending on how good I made you feel.”

“And if I stroked your erection, would that have made you orgasm?”

“Probably,” he was honest.

“So then it’s like masturbation, except I do it on you and you do it on me.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He could see the gears turning in Effie’s head as she came to the realization.  Once she came to terms with it, and she understood what he was trying to make happen, she looked him in the eye again.  “When I orgasm for the first time, I want it to be because we’re having sex.  I don’t want it to be from masturbation or from mutual masturbation.  Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird at all,” Matthew said, a shiver running up his spine knowing she wanted it to happen that specific way.  She was putting her faith in him that he would make her feel good.  “This is just another way to achieve it.  It doesn’t have to be your first time, but once…I mean, once you get used to having orgasms, it can be one way you achieve them.”

Effie nodded her head.  “Masturbation was illegal in the cult.  The prophet once caught a boy doing it and whipped him with his belt.”

“That won’t happen here,” Matthew was stern.

“I know,” Effie said.  She paused before asking the next part.  “Do you—do you want me to stroke your erection?”

“No no, it’s okay,” he shook his head, leaning in to kiss her.  

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Is it because you think I won’t…get you there?” she asked timidly.

Matthew stopped kissing her.  “Don’t think that ever again,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.  “I know you’ll get me there.  I have no doubt in my mind.  I don’t want you to do it right now because it wouldn’t feel right to me – you giving me a handjob but me giving you nothing,” he said.

Effie’s lips curled into a smile.  “A handjob?  Is that what it’s called?” she giggled, lifting all the tension and dissipating it into the air.

“It is,” Matthew giggled along with her.  “Let me take care of this.  Why don’t you find something in the kitchen to make for dinner in the meantime?”

She gave him one last kiss.  “Deal.”

***

“Did you pack the ski jacket I lent you?” Geneviève asked.

“Yes.”

“Slippers for the chalet?”

“Yes.”

“What about a bathing suit?”

“Bathing suit?” Effie asked skeptically.  “For what?”

“There’s a hot tub at the chalet,” Geneviève said, looking through her own racks of clothing for things she should pack for Banff.  “It would be a good idea to bring a bathing suit.”

“But it’s freezing outside!”

Geneviève laughed.  “Trust me, there’s nothing better than getting into a hot tub when it’s cold outside.  I bet you Sean will even do a Canadian polar if someone dares him.”  Effie continued to look at her, confused.  “You’ll see.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Look in here,” Geneviève opened a drawer beside her.  When Effie approached it, she could see loads of bathing suits almost spilling out of it.  She picked up the first one she saw and it was only a top – a string bikini.  Geneviève saw the horrified look on her face.  “Okay, maybe not the string bikini I wore on my honeymoon when I had a banging body,” she said, taking it from Effie.  “But what about a one piece?”

“I’ve never worn a bathing suit before.”

“Understandable.  You don’t want to show a lot of skin?”

“I guess not.”

Geneviève dug through the drawer and pulled out two options for her.  One was a solid colour – plum – and had ruffles along the v-neck and down to her chest.  The other was striped, with ruffles too, and didn’t look like it would ride up her butt.  “Try these on,” Geneviève handed Effie the suits.  “And hell, if they look good, have them.  It’s not like I need them.”

Both of them fit Effie like a glove.  When she came out of the bathroom and modelled them for Geneviève, Geneviève was so happy, urging her to bring both just in case she needed to put both of them to good use.  Effie made sure to fold them up nicely in her lap as she sat on Geneviève’s bed and watched her pack the last of her things.  “So Matthew told you about how we’re all getting there, right?”

Effie nodded.  “Johnny and Meredith are buying all the food, and then you and Jacob and Annica and Elias are carpooling, and then Sean and Britt and Noah are carpooling, and then it’s me and Matthew.”

“And we are leaving at?”

“Ten in the morning.”

Geneviève nodded.  “I’m only checking because Matthew is notoriously late for shit.  Which is hilariously because he wears a $40,000 Rolex.”

***

“Okay, we’ll see you guys when you get there,” Jacob said as he leaned down to be at eye level with Effie in the passenger’s seat, just as Matthew slipped into the driver’s seat of his Audi.  “We’re probably gonna get there first so we’ll take care of check in, but we’ll call to make sure you guys are alright.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Effie smiled.  “Drive safe, Jacob.”

“You too,” he eyed Matthew before standing up again.  

Effie could see Geneviève and Annica waving from the SUV and she waved back.  Rolling up her window, Effie looked over at Matthew.  “How long a drive is it again?” she asked.

“About an hour and a half.  Why?”

“Can we listen to some music on the way there?”

“Of course!” he said, grabbing the wire so she could plug in her iPhone.  “What are we listening to?”

She stayed silent, scrolling through her phone for long enough, keeping Matthew guessing.  It wasn’t until he turned and turned and turned and was on the main road leading to the highway that he finally heard the opening sounds of music.

It was Taylor Swift.

“Nooooooooo!!!!!” he groaned loudly as Effie began cackling at his displeasure with the choice in music.  “Taylor Swift?  You’re really going to do this to me the whole way to Banff?!”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect.  “The whole way back too, Matthew.”

“Uuuuuuuuuugh!” he let out an even louder groan, causing her to laugh again.  “You’re joking me!”

“Nope,” she giggled.  “Geneviève recommended I torture you during the ride.”

“Of course she did,” Matthew shook his head, signalling to take the ramp onto the highway.  “Geneviève’s favourite activity is to torture me.  But I mean, she’s had a rough time in the past, so it’s nice to see her so happy, even if it’s at my expense,” he commented.

Effie furrowed her brows.  “What do you mean?”

Fuck.  Matthew figured Geneviève had told her.  Most of the team knew, and Effie was so close with her that he thought it would have been mentioned or brought up in conversation at some point during their time together.  Apparently not.  And truth be told, he didn’t want to be the one to spill the beans.  Knowing Geneviève, if she hadn’t told Effie, there was a reason why.  Matthew wasn’t going to guess as to what that was – all he knew was that he wasn’t going to explain to Effie why seeing Geneviève happy made him happy.  “I think she should tell you,” he said diplomatically.  “It’s stuff that’s about her life, and I’d feel wrong sharing it.  Plus she can explain it better.”

Effie had no idea what he meant by that.  So many thoughts started to swirl around in her head.  “She wasn’t a member of a cult too, was she?” she asked.

“No,” Matthew shook his head.  He reached over the centre console and grabbed her hand, bringing it over to his lap while he held it in his own, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand gently.  “I’ll just say that…well, she’s had a bit of a rough go at things, and so I am genuinely happy to see her happy.”

***

“Oh…my…goodness,” Effie gasped as she walked through the rented chalet, admiring the cozy architecture and log walls that adorned it.  It wasn’t until she got to the back, though – where the massive floor-to-ceiling windows were – that her breath caught in her throat.  The chalet looked out onto Cascade Mountain, in all its snow-capped glory, and with the beautiful blue skies that day, the entire scene looked more like a painting than it did reality.  “Wow,” she said, speechless, unable to think of anything else as she stared at the dream before her.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Meredith asked rhetorically as she was unpacking the groceries she and Johnny bought in the kitchen.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Which bedroom’s ours?” she vaguely heard Matthew’s voice, but she was too preoccupied staring out the window to even bother turning around.

“The attic room above the garage,” Meredith informed him, watching Matthew as he looked at Effie before smiling to himself and hauling both of their suitcases up the stairs.  When he was out of sight, Meredith continued watching Effie as she admired the view.  “This is your first time in Banff, right?” she asked.  Effie only nodded her head.  “Well, we’re going into the village for dinner tonight, so you’ll be able to see it all lit up.”

At that point, Meredith could see Geneviève emerge from hers and Jacob’s room at the end of the hallway of the main floor.  Meredith gave her a wiggle of the eyebrows and nodded her head towards Effie, all silently, so Geneviève would see Effie’s fascination with the view.  Geneviève could only smile at Meredith when she realized what was going on.  “You okay, Effie?” she asked in a happy voice.

“Just admiring,” she said, still transfixed.  “I read the Rockies were formed something like 80 million years ago.”

“That’s right.  80 to 55 million years ago,” Geneviève said.

Effie finally turned slightly to look at both women.  “Two years ago I believed the Earth was only 6000 years old,” she said, her voice soft.  “We learned about how God made the Earth in six days.  The more I think about what we were told and what we learned, the more I come to realize how fucking stupid it all was.”

Meredith couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face, even letting out a laugh at Effie’s tone.  “How could you guys have not believed in dinosaurs?  I mean, there’s fossils of them.  What did you learn?”

“It’s not that we didn’t believe in dinosaurs…” Effie started.  “It’s…well, God made the Earth in six days according to the Bible.  And on the sixth day, he created the first man and woman – Adam and Eve.  And the Bible gives this entire genealogy of their children and children’s children and all that.  They’re all throughout the Old Testament, up until the time of Christ.  So if you add up all the dates, it’s only about 6000 years,” she explained.  “And so if you believe like we did that Jesus came to Earth about 2000 years ago, we come to the conclusion that the creation of Earth and animals – including dinosaurs – only occurred thousands of years ago, not millions.  Because the Bible is right.  It’s infallible.”

“But then what about them dying?  Like why wouldn’t we still live with T-Rex’s like in Jurassic Park?” Meredith asked.

Effie smiled, only because the explanation was so ridiculous.  “The Flood.”

“The what?”

“The Flood.  The Great Flood.  You know, like Noah’s Arc?”

“Are you for real?” Meredith deadpanned.

“I’m dead serious,” Effie smiled.  “We learned that the animals that were saved on the Arc lived in a new world after the Flood, and those land animals, including dinosaurs, found the new world to be very different.  So because of things like competition for food that was no longer there, and some other stuff, the dinosaurs died out.”

Meredith and Geneviève were silent, but Geneviève could tell Meredith was screaming on the inside.  She was a nurse, after all, and so science was a big part of her life.  Finally, she broke.  “That’s literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she deadpanned again.

Effie burst out in laughter.  “It is, isn’t?”

“That’s literally so fucking dumb,” Meredith went on.  “God, Effie.  Are you just fucking with me?”

“I’m not,” she shook her head.  “It’s really that dumb.”

“I’ll say.  Thank God you’re out of that bullshit, huh?”

“Yeah.  Thank God.”

“Ladies…” Matthew’s voice interrupted them.  They all looked to where he was standing, but he was staring only at Effie.  “You wanna come see our room?” he asked her.

She nodded her head, and although she was sad to leave the view she knew she’d already fallen in love with, she followed him up the stairs and down the hall, up another set of short stairs into the attic space above the garage.  She walked into a cozy room, log walls like most of the rest of the chalet, and a big window overlooking some trees.  Some of the mountain could be seen in between the trees, and just like she’d down downstairs, Effie stood in front of the window, admiring the view.  She didn’t even hear Matthew sneak up behind her until she could feel his arms wrap around her body from behind.  He pressed his body into hers, and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.  She felt so calm and serene.  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said softly, resting her hands overs his and intertwining their fingers.

“You like it?” he asked, and she nodded her head.  “What were you and the girls talking about?”

“Dinosaurs,” Effie smiled.  “How two years ago I believed the Earth was only 6000 years old even though that mountain out there is probably sixty million years old.”

Matthew let out a chuckled, moving to quickly kiss right below her ear.  “Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked.

“It is.  It really is,” she said.

“Wait until we go to Lake Louise tomorrow.  You’re gonna love it.”

“What’s Lake Louise?”

“You’ll see,” he said.  “Just promise me you won’t Google it and spoil it for yourself.  I wanna see your first-ever reaction to seeing it.  Deal?”

Effie smiled.  “Deal.”

Matthew could tell Effie didn’t want to talk.  She wouldn’t want to unpack, or take a nap, or get ready for their night out in the village in a few hours.  All she wanted to do was stare out the window and venerate the view.  So that’s what they did: with his arms still wrapped around her tightly, and his head fitting perfectly into the crook of her neck, they stood at the window, silently, admiring the nature and the mountain before them.  

***

“Oh wwwwwoooooooooowwwww,” Effie’s eyes were as wide as the sea as she stood on the street corner of Banff Avenue with Geneviève, Matthew, and Jacob, staring up at the breathtaking view of Cascade Mountain just as the sun was setting and dusk was coming in.  Matthew was forever thankful that it was a clear night – no snow, fog, or clouds obstructed the view – so Effie got the real deal.  “That…is…amazing!” her jaw was practically on the floor.  “I can’t believe this is only an hour and a half away from Calgary!”

Matthew had an idea.  “At the next crossing, you should pose in the middle of the street and I’ll take a picture of you with it in the background.”

Effie looked at him.  “Really?”

“Duh!”

“Can you—but I—I want one with you too,” she said.  

“I’ll take it,” Jacob offered.  “I can be your Instagram husband, Chucky.”

After a minute, the crosswalk turned green and they rushed to the centre of the street.  Effie posed alone at first, and Matthew took bursts so she had lots of options to choose from.  Then Jacob took his phone and pushed him towards her.  They posed like a couple with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and her hand just grazing his torso.  Jacob made sure to take bursts as well before noticing that the countdown was getting close to finishing.  They scurried across the street just in time, ensuring no car would honk at them for blocking the road.

“D’you think I should upload that to Instagram?” Effie asked Matthew as they continued to walk along the sidewalk.

“Of course you should,” he said.

She’d have to make sure to tag him.

***

Inside of the restaurant, at a long table having just been seated about ten minutes before, Matthew was grumpy.  It had nothing to do with the restaurant.  It had nothing to do with the company, or the fact that Noah wouldn’t shut up beside him.  It had nothing to do with the overpriced beer he ordered, because he could afford it, and it had nothing to do with how they had to wait twenty minutes for their table, even though they’d made reservations.

It had everything to do with the guy at the bar who hadn’t stopped staring at Effie since they walked through the door.

Matthew liked to think of himself as diplomatic, especially these days when Effie had changed his life so much, but right now he was downright protective.  Pest Matthew, which was the persona he was known on the ice.  Effie didn’t notice, because Effie didn’t notice these things – men staring at her, men flirting with her – but he could, and that’s all that mattered.  He was already holding her hand under the table; his thumb was already grazing the back of her hand, like it had been in most of the car ride to Banff; and he was already sitting beside her, obviously.  But that wasn’t enough to him.  Not when he was being a moody little baby (at least he acknowledged it).  Not when he was being protective because he didn’t like the way the guy was looking at her, and the fact that he hadn’t stopped looking at her since.  Matthew knew what was on his mind.  How could he not?

“Is everything okay?” Effie asked quietly just as everyone was finished being served their drinks.  

Matthew shifted uncomfortable in his seat.  Just like he was able to tell when she was a bit off, she was now able to tell when he was off too.  It was a damn miracle, he thought.  But he didn’t want to be a pissbaby about it all.  “Listen, I know you don’t like to be hands-on in public, even if it’s just our friends around, but that guy in the green vest at the bar has been staring at you since we got in here, and I really don’t like it,” he whispered into her ear.

Effie looked towards the bar – she hoped inconspicuously – and saw the man in question.  He couldn’t have been much older than her, with ashy blonde hair and broad shoulders, definitely doing his après ski activities Geneviève told her were big in Banff, especially at this time of year.  She knew exactly what Matthew was talking about now when she caught his eyes fixated on her.  She could do one of two things: be timid about it, like the old Rachel who was scared of every man, let alone any man who stared at her who wasn’t her husband; or she could be the new Effie, growing in her confidence, the Effie that knew a man touching a woman or a woman touching a man in public was okay and allowed and normal and didn’t even give reason to people to bat an eye.  She chose the latter, knowing it was the only choice she should make.  “You can touch me,” she said.

“Even in front of our friends?  You don’t mind?”

Effie shook her head.  “You can touch me.  I like it when you touch me, Matthew.”

A shiver ran up his spine at the implications of how she worded her sentence.  In response, he tucked in his chair even closer to hers, letting go of her hand underneath the table only to bring his arm up and around the back of her chair.  He reached across with his other hand to continue to hold hers under the table, and placed a quick kiss to her temple.  “You’re becoming bold, missy,” he whispered again into her ear.

Effie smiled.  “I can be bold now.  Plus I don’t think anyone here is gonna tell on us.”

“Who would they tell?”

“Exactly.  They’re probably encouraging it behind our backs.”

“Will you two keep it in your pants at the dinner table?  We need to eat and I don’t want to barf,” Elias said, sitting across from them beside Annica, who slapped his arm for the comment.

Both Matthew and Effie giggled, and when Matthew looked up again, green-vest-guy was still staring, only this time with a scowl.  

***

Matthew was sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone as he listened to Effie patter around their ensuite bathroom getting ready for bed.  Dinner had been delicious, as were the drinks afterwards, and by the time everyone had gotten back to the chalet, between the drive and unpacking and dinner, they were tired.  Everyone resolved to go to bed so that the next day’s trip to Lake Louise would be lively.

When she finally opened the door (she still changed in the washroom instead of in front of him, despite him having seen her half naked many times now), he looked over to see her standing in the doorway with her pajamas on.  Her clothes from the day were folded neatly, and she bent down to her suitcase to put them back in.  “Ready for bed?” he asked, locking his phone.

She stayed silent.  When she stood back up, she looked at him quietly.  “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

She didn’t get into bed with him.  Instead, she stood awkwardly in the space between the ensuite and bed, her hands in front of her, picking at her nails.  She couldn’t even look at him.  “Tonight…at the restaurant…you helped me finally see the difference between possessive and protective,” she said.  

Matthew’s breath hitched in his throat.  “How so?”

She paused, trying to come up with the right words.  “Not that we went out in public much, but even if we were just in a social gathering in the cult, if Abraham saw another man looking at me, he automatically thought it was lust, and he distrusted me so much that he would manipulate me into thinking it was my fault the man was looking at me.  I don’t even know why he married me if he distrusted me so much.  I mean I know I was supposed to give birth to the next Son of God and I couldn’t do that but…” she trailed off, her voice becoming shaky at the end.  “How could someone he distrusted so much give birth and then raise the Son of God?  I mean what logic was there in that?  He wanted to control every single little thing about me and my life and how I felt and…and my actions and the actions of others, even though they had nothing to do with me.  I was always blamed.”

“Effie—”

“—But tonight at dinner, you did not of that.  You never, ever do any of that.  You don’t blame me for anything.  You…you, like, trust me.  You trust that even though I’m new at all this, that I can take care of myself.  You’re always there in case I need help but at the end of the day you trust me.  You don’t, like, undermine my confidence to flatter your own ego and make me dependent on you like Abraham did.  You want me to do better.”

“Of course I do.”

“You want to like…teach me.  Or maybe not teach me, but at least help me learn.”

Matthew could only nod his head.  A part of him wondered where all of this was coming from, but he knew better than to ask.  Effie had an entire ocean of secrets within her, and he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life engrossed in them all.  

She finally moved to get into bed with him.  As she crawled in, he pulled the covers over them and brought their bodies close together, intertwining their limbs together so that almost their entire bodies were touching one another’s.  Matthew kissed her a few times before she pulled away slightly.  “Can you teach me something else?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“Good sex.”

A shiver ran up his spine, and he swore his dick got hard in a fraction of a second.  He could have taken her right then and there, but it took every ounce of strength and willpower in him not to do so.  “When we start having sex, sure,” he said, trying to calm his emotions.  If she grinded up on him even just the slightest bit he was sure he’d go crazy.  

“Good sex so I can orgasm,” she said innocently, like it was something clinical.

Matthew smiled.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll make you orgasm.”

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” he asserted before dipping down to kiss her again.

***

“Your eyes are closed, right?”

“Yes, Matthew.”

“You can’t see anything?”

“Not with your giant hands and mittens over them.”

“We’re almost there.  I just want to find a perfect spot with a perfect view.”

“I’m sure it’ll be breathtaking either way.”

“No.  It’s gotta be perfect.”

Meredith and Johnny giggled as they watched Matthew lead Effie step by step to a central point to look out onto the lake, mountains, and glacier.  “He’s leading you off the edge, Effie!” Johnny shouted out.

“You’re about to fall into the lake!” Meredith followed up.

“Shut up!” Matthew screamed at them, even though Effie was giggling.  He looked between the lake and Effie and knew they were at the centre, so he positioned her to face it as he still kept his hands over her eyes.  “You ready?” he asked.

Effie nodded enthusiastically.

When he removed his hands, he didn’t look out onto the beautiful, picturesque lake like she did, to see what she would see; instead, he looked at her, because he’d seen Lake Louise before, but he’d never seen Effie looking at Lake Louise before.  He watched as her jaw almost immediately dropped, taking in the massive mountains and the glacier, the mountainside trees, the intense blue colour of the frozen lake.  “Oooooooooh,” she barely managed to get out.  The view quite literally left her speechless.  

“It’s beautiful, huh?” Matthew asked after a while, finally staring out onto the lake himself.  

“I don’t think there’s a word for this,” Effie mumbled, trying to take it all in.  “Like I would say majestic but I don’t even think that gives it justice.  I can’t…I can’t believe something like this is here only four hours from Sheerness and I never knew about it.  It seems criminal not to know about it.”

Matthew thought about all the trips he took as a kid with his family, whether they were abroad or just within the United States and Canada.  They were all so amazing, and he was able to see so much of the world already.  He knew Effie had never experienced that, but to put it the way she did – that this beautiful sight was only four hours from where the cult was situated, but they never visited or even knew about – did make it seem criminal, as she put it.  He was at least happy that he was the one responsible for showing it to her.  “I’ll have to bring you back during the summer, too.  The lake becomes this incredible shade of turquoise.  No picture can compare.”

Effie stayed silent.  Matthew thought she was still just taking everything in, but after a few moments, he thought he heard some sniffling.  The moment he looked over at her, she let out a full sob and he could see tears had already fallen down her cheeks.  “Hey hey hey,” he said, worried, getting closer to her and wrapping an arm around her.  “What’s wrong?  Why’re you crying?”

Effie shook her head, bringing her hand up to wipe her tears away with her mittens.  “There’s so much I don’t know,” she whispered.  “There’s…there’s so much I don’t know.”

Matthew’s heart broke, as it did often with Effie.  He let her cry it out as he held her, and didn’t say another word until he saw that most of the tears had stopped.  “Don’t be sad—”

“I’m not sad,” she interrupted him.  “I’m not.  I’m…these are happy tears.  I swear.  There’s so much I don’t know but that means there’s so much I get to learn.”

***

The boys couldn’t get too out of their routines.  That meant that after a nice lunch at the Lakeview Lounge, the group headed back to their chalet so the boys could take pre-game naps, even though they weren’t playing a game.  Matthew had wanted to cuddle before falling asleep (as most of the guys did with their significant others), but there was no way Effie could take a nap, so she cuddled with him and waited until he was sound asleep before slipping out of bed.  Before leaving their room, she looked back at him and took in how peaceful he looked.

Making her way towards the kitchen, she was surprised to see Geneviève in front of the sink, filling the kettle with some water.  Geneviève saw her out of the corner of her eye and smiled.  “Want some tea?” she asked politely, to which Effie nodded.  “Peppermint good?”

“I’ll take whatever you’re having,” Effie said as she sat down at the round dining table.  She watched as Geneviève moved around the kitchen, preparing the mugs and cleaning some stuff up before the water began to boil.  She took the kettle off the stove before it could whistle and filled the cups generously, bringing them over to the table where Effie was sitting and taking a seat beside her.  

“Did you enjoy Lake Louise?” she asked as she settled into her seat.  

Effie nodded.  “I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes.”

“If it wasn’t winter, we could have gone to Moraine Lake too, but the road is closed because of avalanche warnings.  You should get Matthew to take you there in the summer.  If you can believe it, Moraine Lake is even more beautiful.  Everything about it just really clears the mind and reminds you that you’re just a speck of dust on this earth.”

Really clears the mind.  Effie thought back to the brief but mysterious conversation she’d had with Matthew on their way to Banff.  It had been in the back of her mind since, and her inquisitive nature meant she had to get to the bottom of it.  “Can I ask you a question?” Effie asked timidly.

“Of course.”

Effie hesitated.  She always did.  Geneviève always took so much time in explaining things to her like she was a five-year-old and Effie didn’t know if her question would offend her.  She just wanted to frame it in a way where, maybe, it wouldn’t be offensive.  “Were…did…” she had to stop.  She had to think.  “You and I both suffer,” she chose to say.

Geneviève immediately knew where Effie was going with this line of questioning.  She smirked slightly, knowing that Effie was trying to be extremely cordial about it.  She wondered who told her.  It was probably Matthew.  It’s not like anyone else would, really.  “We do,” she nodded her head.  “We both suffer.”

Effie nodded slightly.  “H—How do you suffer?” she asked.

“Like you.  My mind betrays me sometimes,” she said matter-of-factly.  “It makes me think things that aren’t right – about myself, about my life.”

“Why?”

Geneviève took a deep breath.  “I come from a family of very high achievers.  I don’t know if Matthew went into specifics with you, but my dad was a very famous and respected French diplomat and my mom comes from a very old money French Canadian family from Montreal.  My siblings and I lived with our parents growing up, but we didn’t really have a close relationship with them because we were raised by nannies. Then, when I was eleven, I was shipped off to an all-girls school in Paris.  My brothers went to Eton College in the UK.  And my brothers – well, they’re the same as my parents.  They both work in politics.”

“What’s not right about that?” Effie asked.

Geneviève couldn’t help but smile slightly.  “Nothing is wrong with it.  It just puts a lot of pressure on a person to be just as successful and rich.  After high school, I went to Wellesley College, which is one of the best private liberal arts colleges in the world.  I studied English literature.  And while I was there, I became a Rhodes Scholar, so I went to Oxford University for a bit, then came back and graduated from Wellesley – I was valedictorian – only to go back to Oxford so I could get my PhD.  When I was at Oxford, I became editor in chief of their literary magazine, and I was gaining fame as a writer and humourist, public speaker, debater, social commentator…all these things.  People wanted to know my insight into things because I was sharp and witty, even though I was young.  Everyone ate it up.  I did too.”

Effie was confused.  She knew Geneviève could be referred to as doctor, even though she wasn’t a medical doctor.  She knew Geneviève was intensely smart – she was basically her tutor, after all – but Effie couldn’t piece everything together.  “I’m not understanding,” she said.  “All those things that you mentioned – the family, your education, your success – I thought that’s what people want.”

“They do want those things,” Geneviève clarified.  “But remember when you told me the reason you cut your hair was because you finally wanted something that belonged to you?  And that you did it for you and no-one else?” she asked.  Effie nodded her head.  “My entire life – everything I just told you about – I was always subconsciously doing it for other people because I had an intense, crippling fear of not making people happy and not being good enough.”

Effie suddenly had an a-ha moment.  In all made sense.  The puzzle pieces were perfectly laid out in front of her, and she could see it all – every miniscule piece together to create the broader picture.  “Oh,” she let out dramatically.  “I get it now.”

“Exactly,” Geneviève nodded.

“And Jacob makes you happy,” Effie said as more of a statement than a question.

Geneviève smiled again.  “Yes.  Jacob makes me very happy.  Did anyone ever tell you about the first night we met?” she asked.  Effie shook her head.  Geneviève loved telling the story.  “It was the night of my graduation of my PhD in 2016.  My friends and I were partying in a pub in Oxford, still wearing our Tudor bonnets and hoods.  Jacob and his friends were there.  They were doing some sort of Eurotrip and we just happened to be in the same bar, and he noticed my group with our bonnets and hoods on.  He came up to me and we started talking.  And we couldn’t shut up.”

“That sounds like Jacob,” Effie blurted out.  She would have immediately regretted it if Geneviève hadn’t snorted at her words.  

“We talked and we danced together the entire night while we all went barhopping.  He’d help me adjust my hat all the time, or he’d step on my feet five times during a song and he’d apologize each time.  And every second that passed, I fell more and more in love with him,” Geneviève continued, pausing for a moment.  “The thing was, Effie…I had a fiancé. Daniel.  We were together for four years at that point.  My parents loved him.  My friends loved him.  He came from a good family like mine – a titled family, even – and everything was sort of just…you know, set.  But then I met Jacob.  And that same night, I broke up with my fiancé.”

Effie’s eyes widened.  “I’m guessing people don’t usually break up with boys they’ve been with for four years for boys they’ve just met.”

“Absolutely not,” Geneviève shook her head.  “Everybody I knew was very disappointed in me, my family especially.  All my friends…they thought I was crazy.  Most of them turned on me in a heartbeat.  They kept asking me how I could do such a thing – how could I break Daniel’s heart, how could I throw away our future together for some random Swedish guy I met at a pub—”

“But you knew,” Effie interrupted her.  “You knew it was Jacob.  That is was supposed to be Jacob.”

At this point, Geneviève’s eyes were watering, but she nodded her head.  “It was always supposed to be Jacob.”

“That was very brave of you, to do something out of love even though you knew people wouldn’t respect you for it.”

“It’s not as brave as what you did,” Geneviève said, meaning it.  There was a moment of silence between the two women before Geneviève considered the question she was going to ask before her mind just forced her to ask it.  “You know it’s supposed to be Matthew, don’t you?”

Effie found herself nodding her head too.  “Yes,” her voice was soft as she looked down at her hands clasped around the warm mug.  “He makes me feel things I never thought I’d be able to feel.  He makes me feel…I don’t know, happy.  Like all that stuff didn’t happen to me.  Or like – that it did, but that I’m capable of moving past it and becoming someone new.”

“That’s a good thing, Effie.  If Matthew makes you happy that’s all that matters.”

“But if Jacob makes you happy, why do you suffer?  Why does your mind suffer?”

Geneviève felt like she was in a therapy session.  In a way, she kind of was.  She took another deep breath.  “Well, my mind suffers because of the weight of expectation.  I…I’ve had two mental breakdowns, Effie.  And both times, I’ve hurt Jacob so much.  But he still loved me through it.  He helped me.  He helps me, still.  I made him suffer while I was suffering and that’s my biggest regret in life, the one thing I want to take back.  But he stuck with me and loved me through all of it.”

“Wh—What caused your mental breakdowns?” Effie asked.

“Um, well my first one was when most of my old friends abandoned me, after I left Daniel to be with Jacob.”

“And the other?”

Geneviève averted her eyes down at her cup of tea before staring at Effie again.  “I couldn’t get pregnant.”

Effie felt her entire body stiffen as the words came out of Geneviève’s mouth.  Not only did they have similar minds, but their pain was similar too.  In Effie’s case, however, her seven miscarriages prevented her from having children and becoming a mother – something she never wanted anyway, since it was imposed on her and she’d never made the decision for herself until now.  Geneviève, on the other hand, wanted to become a mother.  Effie knew that she wanted to have children with Jacob.  Geneviève had once explained to her how she only wanted Jacob’s kids, not anybody else’s.  To not be able to do that – to get pregnant with a child you so dearly want with your husband – must have hurt Geneviève immensely.  “I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s alright.  It’s much better now, and I’m in a better place,” Geneviève nodded slightly.  “But it was a vicious cycle for a long time.  Sometimes my mind would make me think I’m not good enough for Jacob, that I shouldn’t be putting him through all of this suffering.  But other times – healthy times – my mind reminds me Jacob and I are soulmates, and all I have to remember is the first night we met and fell in love, and that proves it to me.”

Effie understood completely again.  “Sometimes when I’m sleeping in bed with Matthew – or, well, when he’s sleeping and I can’t sleep, and I just watch him sleep – I convince myself that he should move on.  I’ve written letters to him about it that I’ve never shown him.  If your mind tells you that you’re not good enough for Jacob when it’s bad – well, my mind tells me that I’m not good enough for Matthew because I’m making him work so much and wait so long.”

“Your mind is lying to you.”

Effie nodded.  “Dr. Barlow says the same thing.  She says I’m conditioned to think that I’m not worthy or good enough for love because of what happened in the People’s Dominion.”

“She’s right.”

“She says I should accept love whenever it’s presented to me so that I can give love back to those who truly love me.  So, like, my brother.  And Jenna.  And when my mind is good, like yours, it tells me that…that Matthew can be – no, is a person that I can show true love to.”

“You know, by opening up to him the way that you have, I think you’re already showing true love to him,” Geneviève commented.  “You’re both changing for the better.  I hope that’s not lost on you.”

Before either woman could say anything else, Effie saw Jacob’s sleepy head pop up.  He saw his wife with tea at the table with Effie and smiled.  Effie nodded her head so Geneviève would look over her shoulder and see him.  “Hey you,” she said softly, smiling.

“I can’t nap.  Come cuddle,” he pleaded.

Both women giggled at his tone, but Geneviève stood up from her seat and grabbed her mug of team.  “You gonna be okay?” she asked.

Effie nodded.  “I’ll probably just stare out the window admiring the view until everyone wakes up,” she joked.  

Jacob wrapped his arm around her wife as she approached him, though Geneviève took one final look back at Effie still sitting in her seat.  “You deserve the love,” she said firmly, giving her a knowing look.

Effie nodded her head.  “You do, too.”

***

“You almost ready, Effie?” Matthew said just as he heard the lock on the ensuite unlatch.  Effie emerged from the washroom wrapped in a robe, and he knew a bathing suit was lying underneath.  “You can borrow a pair of my slides for when we go outside,” he said, digging into his suitcase.

“Can I be honest with you?” she said.

“Always.”

“I’ve never been in a hot tub before.”

Matthew chuckled.  “I kind of figured, Effie.”

“It’s not weird that I’m going to be in a bathing suit in front…in front of other men and their girlfriends and wives, right?” she asked, her voice much more apprehensive now.  

Matthew stopped.  “No,” he shook his head, his voice stern.  “That’s not…no.  It’s not like that,” he attempted to explain, but the words weren’t coming out right.  “They won’t think it’s weird, and they won’t think anything about you, if that’s what you’re asking.  This stuff happens all the time.”

“Okay,” she said, though she didn’t exactly sound entirely convinced.

“You’re not scared of them, like, looking at you, are you?” he pressed.

“No…not really,” she shook her head.  “I know all the guys.  They’re nice guys and they’re not like that.  It’s just one of those new experiences where I’m going to be doing something new for the first time.  That something new being presenting myself in a bathing suit in front of other men for the first time.”

Matthew moved closer to her.  “Effie, if you’re nervous you don’t have to go in—”

“No, I want to,” she asserted.  “You said it’s romantic.”

Matthew snorted.  “I don’t know how romantic it’ll be when we’re surrounded by ten other people,” he mumbled.  “But I can think of lots of romantic things we can get up to in here while everyone else is out in the hot tub,” he brought his arm up, wrapping it around her.

“You wish,” she giggled.  “Let’s go.”

They made their way downstairs, all the way to the basement where there was a walkout to the lower deck where the huge ten-person hot tub was.  Mostly everyone was there already – Johnny and Meredith, Elias and Annica, and Britt was taking off her robe to join Sean and Noah who were already in the hot tub.  Britt wore a bikini – naturally, as women did – and Effie could feel her grip tighten along the lapels of her bath robe.  From behind Effie, Jacob and Geneviève approached the scene.  Jacob was wearing swim trunks and no robe; Geneviève was still in her day clothes.  

“Hey!” Britt was mildly offended when she saw Geneviève.  “Where’s your bathing suit, missy?”

“I’m not coming in,” she said as Jacob practically jumped right in.  Effie was convinced he would have if it wasn’t so shallow.  She’d seen that video of him backflipping off a boat house in Muskoka.  

“Forget your bathing suit?” Noah asked.

“Nah,” Geneviève shook her head.  “I uh…I actually can’t get in.”

“Why not?”

Everyone was silent, waiting for an answer, looking at Geneviève.  They waited.  And waited.  Effie even flicked her eyes towards Jacob, seeing if he had any answers, but he only had a slick smile on his face.  It was only when Meredith’s face dropped that Effie braced herself.  “Wait,” Meredith interjected.  Everyone’s heads whipped towards her.  “Can you not come in the hot tub because you’re pregnant?”

Everyone whipped their heads back to Geneviève.  A Cheshire cat-like grin crept on her face as she cupped her hand over the flowy material of her oversized sweater, showing a small but noticeable bump.  The girls shrieked at the top of their lungs.  Well, most of the girls – Effie was shocked into silence, but her jaw did drop dramatically.  The boys started yelling too, in their stereotypical guy way, patting Jacob on the back as he smiled one of his broad, signature smiles from ear to ear.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant!  You guys are having a baby!” Britt screamed.

“Oh no no no,” Jacob intervened, shaking his head at Britt’s comment.  Everyone was confused again.  “It’s not a baby.”

“Excuse me?” Britt furrowed her brows, looking to Geneviève.

Geneviève couldn’t keep the smile off her face.  “It’s babies.”

“TWINS?!” Annica shrieked.  “You’re having twins?!”

Geneviève nodded.

The girls began shrieking again, Britt even going so far as to get out of the hot tub to hug Geneviève, even though she was soaking wet.  The guys were dumbfounded.  Sean had a look on his face like he was a medieval peasant and someone just told him the Earth revolved around the sun.  “Twins, buddy?” he asked Jacob, who nodded his head.  “Dude, you’re gonna be busy.”

“Believe me buddy, I know.”

Effie hugged Geneviève in congratulations.  She was much happier about the news than she thought she would be – so happy, in fact, that she was speechless.  But she was happy.  Every time she’d gotten pregnant by Abraham, she cried because she knew what it meant and because she never wanted to be pregnant and was forced to be.  It wasn’t what she wanted.  But Geneviève wanted this.  She’d wanted this for such a long time – so long, judging by their conversation earlier – that it had made her depressed at one point because it wasn’t happening for her and Jacob.  To finally be pregnant – and pregnant with twins – was a blessing Effie knew Geneviève and Jacob had been waiting a really long time for.  

“Come on Effie, take off that robe and hop in with me,” Britt smiled.  

Effie began untying the knot in her robe, taking her time, mentally preparing herself for the moment she shed it.  After unlooping the last loop, she looked behind her to see Matthew ready to take it from her, giving her a small nod.  She took a deep breath and slipped it off her shoulders, expecting a reaction.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Nobody even batted an eyelash.

“Come, sweetie,” Britt urged.  “Sit in one of the corner spots.  They’re the ones with the most jets.”

Effie climbed the stairs to get in.  Sean offered his hand for her to grab on to politely, but Effie didn’t take it.  She probably looked awkward, but she just wanted to make sure she didn’t slip and fall in.  The second her toe hit the water, she could feel how hot the water was.  “That feels nice,” she commented, smiling nervously.

“Wait till your whole body’s in,” Sean said.

Once her entire body was submerged into the bubbling water, Effie immediately felt at ease and relaxed – and she hadn’t even gone to sit in a seat where jets were.  Matthew disrobed quickly and climbed in right after her.  He watched as she moved and sat in a corner, against jets, and saw her eyes roll back.  “Oh, you were right Britt.  This feels amazing.”

Matthew settled in next to Effie against the back of the hot tub.  Everyone else followed him getting in and settling into their spots, and they all began a lively conversation.  The jets hit her lower back and shoulders in all the right places; she contributed almost nothing to the conversation for however long it was because she was so relaxed, she felt like falling asleep.  When she was called out for it by a playful Jacob, she laughed it off and chastised him for interrupting her beauty sleep.  That’s when Matthew moved even closer to her, so that their legs were touching underwater, and she looked over at him.  “These jets are incredible,” she said.

“You’re such a hog,” he grinned at her.

She knew she was being a hog, but she couldn’t help it.  “Wanna switch?”

“C’mere,” he urged, and their bodies moved until Matthew was seated with the jets across his back, and Effie was sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around her.  They were sitting exactly like Annica and Elias were, so Annica sent her a quick wink.  “This okay?” Matthew whispered once they finally relaxed into each other.

“More than okay,” Effie nodded.

She could feel his lips kiss the exposed skin on her shoulder.

***

Effie looked through the series of ten photos she chose to upload to her Instagram:

The picture of her and Matthew in the middle of Banff Avenue with the mountain in the background.

A group picture of the entire table out at dinner.

A picture of her and Matthew together, posing in front of Lake Louise.

A group picture of the girls in the kitchen cooking breakfast together.

A picture of she and Matthew cuddled together on the couch, where his arm was around her and gripping her thigh as she had her knees up against his thighs and her arm around his shoulders.

A picture of her and Geneviève passed out while reading on the couch.

A picture of her and Sean, where he looked like he was deep into explaining something and she had no clue what he was talking about.

A picture of everyone playing Monopoly, where Matthew had pulled up a chair and made Effie sit in between his spread out legs with her back against his chest for the duration of the game.

A photo of everyone in the hot tub, with Effie in Matthew’s lap.

A selfie-style photo of everyone dressed up for New Year’s, taken just minutes before.

Friends.  

She had friends.

***

“Okay okay okay okay okay,” Noah slurred as he lined up the champagne glasses only five minutes to go from midnight.  Everybody had been partying and drinking (save for Geneviève, of course) for most of the night, and now it was time to pour the champagne.  Effie didn’t feel drunk or tipsy at all, despite Annica making her a mojito, so she thought it best to follow Noah to all the champagne flutes.  “You carry the tray, I’ll carry the glasses,” he said.

Effie looked down.  He had just put the glasses on the tray.  She giggled at how drunk he was.  “What’s your plan B, Noah?”

“Plan B?” he looked flabbergasted.  “Well how many bottles we got?”

“Six.”

He counted out six on his fingers like a toddler.  “That’s one for everyone!” he said as he reached over and began grabbing the champagne bottles.  Gripping a bottle in each hand, he walked back to the main family room and handed a bottle to Jacob and a bottle to Sean.  “Now for Chucky and Johnny,” he mumbled, grabbing the next two bottles and going back to the boys to hand it to them.  Effie could only stand there and giggle.  He looked like a toddler waddling around.  “Now Elias and me!  All done!”

“What about the women?” she asked.

“Young padawan,” he said, bending down so he could be at eye level with her.  It was sometimes so embarrassing how much taller all the guys were (and Jacob was in a league of his own).  What was probably more embarrassing was that she had no clue what a padawan was.  “You have yet to learn that you hold aaaaallllllllll the power.  All the power.  Especially with Chucky.”

Her smile was more nervous than knowing as her eyes flickered to where Matthew was already peeling the foil off the top of the champagne bottle.  “You think so?”

“I know so.  Matthew’s so fucking whipped for you he should win the Calgary Stampede.”

With that, Noah turned on his heels and returned back to the family room.  Effie considered his words as she stood in place for just a moment longer, eventually following him and finding Matthew, who was putting the crumpled foil from the champagne bottle on the counter.  When he saw her, a smile immediately appeared on his face.  “You want to pop the bottle?”

“I’ve never done it before.”

“It’s easy,” he said.  “I’ll prep it for you.”

She watched as he wiggled the cork just enough that it was still in, but out enough so that it would be easier for her to pop once the clock struck midnight.  “Thank you for this year, Matthew,” she blurted out, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.  “I—you—you’ve really made it the best year of my life.”

Matthew smiled.  “We’ve just gotta make next year even better.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“Oh it’s possible,” he smiled.  In the background, Effie could hear Annica yell “Thirty seconds!”.  He grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers.  “Come on.  Let’s start it off right,” he said, bringing her in front of the TV to watch the countdown, wrapping an arm securely around her as they counted down with everyone else.

10!  9!  8!  7!  6!  5!  4!  3!  2!  1!  

“Haaappyyyyy Neeewww Yeeeeeaaaaarrr!!!!!” everybody screamed simultaneously.  Sean popped his bottle of champagne first, and everyone else followed consecutively, Effie last because she was scared of wiggling the cork and scared it would pop in her face.  Matthew helped her direct it towards Noah before it eventually did pop, the champagne bubbling up and almost spilling over.  Effie brought it to her mouth to cover it and stop it from getting all over the floor, taking a quick swig.  She watched as Jacob and Geneviève kissed, Jacob placing his hand over her small bump.  Elias and Annica were kissing too.  She looked up at Matthew and felt him wrap his arm around her again.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, leaning down and planting his lips on hers.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered back, only for Matthew to kiss her again.  

***

After hugging the girls, and drinking the champagne, and singing in the living room to music, and having some more hugs with the girls and laughs with the guys and singing some more, Effie found herself on a high.  Everybody was going to bed, but she wasn’t tired.  And when she found herself alone with Matthew in their room, all she wanted to do was kiss.

Kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.  

They were both in heaven.  Matthew had never felt anything as soft as Effie’s lips or as electric as her skin; Effie, too, had never felt anything as strong as Matthew’s body or as soft as his soul.  She knew a lot of people in hockey would disagree with her, but they didn’t know Matthew like she knew Matthew.  They didn’t know the Matthew she knew.  

With his kisses along her jawline and neck heating up her body, she moved on her own to take off her top.   Matthew followed with his own, throwing it half way across the room before continuing his kisses, bringing a hand up to caress her breasts, knowing how much she liked it.  Matthew groaned feeling her hands grip at his sides, her fingernails digging in ever so slightly into the muscles of his obliques.  He moved to take off her bra and suck at her breasts.  The mewls and sounds she was letting out were, as always, music to his ears.  He wanted them permanently etched in his mind.

“Matthew…” Effie let out breathlessly as his tongue glided along the space between her breasts.

“Yeah baby?” he asked.

There was a pause before she spoke again.  “I br—I brought condoms.”

Matthew stopped all movements.  Even his tongue left her skin for the first time in what seemed like hours since they’d been kissing so long, causing Effie to look down at him.  “You brought condoms?” he asked—clarified—whatever, his chest heaving up and down.

She nodded her head.  “Can I go get them?”

“Yeah,” he said, still in so much shock he moved only slightly to let her out from underneath him.  She slivered away quickly, going into her suitcase to grab the small box she’d apparently hidden underneath all her clothes.  He watched her as she opened it, taking a condom out and setting it on the bedside table before placing the box down beside it.  When she got back onto the bed, balancing herself on her knees, Matthew rose to the same position.  He grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her gently.  “Is this what you want?” he asked.

She nodded her head before he could even finish the sentence.  “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I want to have sex with you.”

The words sent a shiver up his spine, but he knew he needed to remain calm.  He began kissing her again, gently at first, but as time went on, they got more passionate, their hands exploring each other’s exposed skin.  Matthew could feel the weight of her breasts press up against his chest as his hands teased down to the waist of her pants.  “Can I take these off?” he asked.  She only nodded.  “I need to hear you say it, Effie.”

“Yes.”

His hands unbuttoned and unzipped the front of the pants before snaking themselves underneath the fabric and over the mounds of her ass, bring them down to the tops of her thighs.  “Lie down,” he whispered, and she did so, gently, until she could feel the pillows on the back of her head.  She lifted up her hips so Matthew could take off her pants, leaving her only in her underwear.  It was the most exposed she’d ever been with him, but she wasn’t nervous – far from it.  Actually, she felt comfortable, the most comfortable she’d ever been.

“Can I take off your pants?” she asked, wanting to do it herself since she never had the opportunity or choice to before.  Matthew nodded his head, and she followed the steps he’d done – unbuttoning and unzipping the front – except this time, she had to do it without looking, because Matthew had continued to kiss her like he would have died if he didn’t.  She pushed his jeans down as far as she could and he took care of the rest, disposing them off the edge of the bed.  

She caught a quick glimpse of the bulge in his trunks.  She could feel her body getting hotter and she knew it was because of her arousal.  “I bought large.”

“Large what?”

“Condoms.”

Matthew snorted slightly, a giant smile appearing on his face as he peppered her lips with quick kisses.  “You really know how to stroke my ego, don’t you?”

She was bashful, giggling and covering her face as he tried to pepper it with more kisses.  “I just figured…”

“Well, you figured correctly, baby.”

She cradled his face, her smile fading slowly until she bit her bottom lip slightly.  “Kiss me.  Touch me, Matty.”

When their lips met again, their kisses were passionate and loving and full, giving every piece of themselves to the other.  Matthew lied on his side and brought Effie with him, hiking her leg up and over his hip so his hand could…explore.  Effie’s breath hitched in her throat when she felt where his hand was.  She looked him directly in the eye, but unlike last time, she didn’t tell him to stop.  “Is that okay?” he asked.  She nodded.  “I need to hea—”

“Yes, Matty,” she said quickly, even nodding.  “Touch me.  Touch me.”

He cupped his hand over her underwear, taking it slow, because even that sent a jolt throughout her body.  Her core was wet – which was obviously good – and he moved his fingers up and down over the fabric as he continued to kiss her until finally, finally, he pushed the material to the side and felt her lips between his fingers.  Her hips bucked at the touch.  “You okay?” he asked.  

“Yeah,” she nodded quickly.  He could see her gulp.  “It—it feels really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Keep going.”

His fingers continued moving, teasing; her hips continuing bucking, trying to drive more friction.  When he introduced his thumb into the equation, she let out a louder moan, and brought her arm over and squeezed his forearm.  “Take them off,” she whispered.

He acted quickly, looping his fingers through her underwear to take them off before shimmying out of his own too before putting his hand back where it was.  This time, Effie could feel the length of his hard cock on her thigh, and it made her body even hotter.  Between what he was doing with his hands and the fact that their naked bodies were pressed against each other’s at almost every inch, she knew she was ready.  There was no hesitation.  No fear.  No trepidation or anxiety or unease.  “Put on the condom,” she mumbled incoherently against his lips.

“Huh?”

“Put on the condom.”

Matthew ripped the packet open with his teeth, rolling the condom on as Effie watched.  When it was on securely, he began kissing her, and she rolled over onto her back so his body hovered on top of hers.  She felt his hand snake down her side until it got to her knee, hiking it up so she could wrap it around his torso.  He did the same for her other leg too, not once letting his lips leave hers.  

“Effie…”

“Yeah?”

“If you want to stop or anything, we can obviously stop.”

She nodded her head, bringing her hands up to cup his face again.  She knew he had to say it, but she didn’t want to stop.  Her body felt like it was on fire – in a good way.  “Okay.”

“If it hurts or anything—”

“—You won’t hurt me—”

“Effie, please,” he interjected softly.  “If it hurts, or if…if—if you see him, you have to tell me, okay?  We can stop and it won’t be awkward for me.  You just say.”

She nodded her head.  “Okay.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” she said, gliding her thumb over his lips.  

Matthew began kissing her again, because he wanted to take it slow, but eventually he put his hand between them and guided himself into her.  Their breaths were heavy.  Effie stopped kissing him at that moment, her mouth hanging open at the sensation.  I felt good.

It felt good.

She moaned as he pushed further into her, gripping at his shoulder blades.  Eventually, he filled her completely, and he let out a groan of his own.  “Look at me, baby,” he whispered, and Effie focused her eyes on him.  “You okay?”

She nodded.  “It feels good.  It’s never felt good before,” she said.

Matthew let out a breath.  He placed a delicate kiss on her lips before beginning to move, which garnered more moans out of her (and him, too – he was enjoying the situation just as much as she was).  Eventually, he built up a steady rhythm.  Effie’s moans were the sign he needed that everything was okay, so he kept doing what he was doing – the kisses, the thrusts.  

“Matty?” she asked, her voice breathless but sweet as he kissed her neck.

“Yeah, Effie?” he raised his head so he was looking right at her.

“You feel amazing,” she told him.  “I can’t believe it can feel this good.”

“That’s a good thing, baby,” Matthew smiled.  He decided to take things one step further, knowing he needed to do more to make sure she got off.  He thrusted harder into her, and he garnered the exact reaction he wanted from her – she arched her back and mewled out, her grip on his shoulder blades digging deeper.  Their bodies were so close that he knew he was pressing against her clit with every thrust he made.  “That feel good?” he asked.

“God yes,” she nodded quickly.  “Keep…keep…oh Jesus,” she was at a loss for words as he continued without being asked.  “Oooooh, Matty…fuck…Matty,” she kept moaning.  The more he did it, the better it felt.  And the better it felt, the more she wished for it to never end.

Matthew could feel himself getting close – he couldn’t help it – but when he saw Effie’s eyes roll back, he knew she was close too.  “Effie, baby, come for me.  Come for me.”

It was like her body knew what to do without her actually knowing what to do.  After those words left Matthew’s lips, she arched her back, and after a few more thrusts, Effie felt a strong, powerful wave of pleasure rush through her body, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.  Matthew could feel it too, and he knew from the way her nails dug into his back and how her legs tightened around him.  He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and after a few more thrusts, his own orgasm followed, a series of moans and high-pitched sighs that matched hers escaping from him as he felt her walls tightening around him.  Her grip on him was so tight, like she was clinging on to him for dear life, as they both rode through their orgasms, doing everything in their power to have them last as long as possible.  Eventually, Matthew’s thrusts steadied, then slowed, then stopped, and he pulled out of her and collapsed beside her onto his back.

They were both catching their breaths – Effie more so.  After his high subsided, Matthew turned his head to look at her.  “You okay, Effie?” he asked.

She nodded almost instantaneously.  “That was an orgasm, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded.  “Did it feel good?”

“It felt incredible,” she said, finally turning her head dramatically to look at him.  “That was fucking awesome.”

They both giggled, Matthew leaning forward to kiss her quickly.  “Told you I could make you orgasm.”

“You were right.”

He gave her one last kiss before pulling away slightly.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to throw out the condom.”

“Oh.  Right,” she said, watching him get up and walk to the washroom.  When he came back, he crawled into bed, the both of them still naked, and he pulled her body against his so they were cuddling face-to-face.  He gave her a few kisses on her neck and shoulder, and rubbed her back soothingly.  That’s when Effie spoke again.  “Matty?”

“Yeah, baby?”

She wondered if she should even say anything, because the night had been perfect – New Year’s, champagne, friends, singing, dancing, kissing, sex – but he had a right to know.  She knew he’d want to know how far she’d come.  “I um…this is the first time that I want to keep my body.”

Matthew furrowed his brows.  “What do you mean?”

“Every time this has happened before, I didn’t want my body anymore.  It…it felt like it was contaminated.  I wanted to take my body off like a jacket.  I was terrified of it and what happened to it.  But I don’t feel like that after this.  And this is the first time where I…I want to keep my body.  I want to keep all the good things I felt.”

Matthew’s heart stopped.  If it was possible, he tightened his hold on her.  “I never want you to feel that way again,” he said.  “You can keep everything, Effie.  All the good things.”

“The best part is, I know there will be more.”

He nodded, giving her one last kiss.  “Much more.”

As he continued rubbing her back, Matthew felt Effie fall asleep on his chest, her breath steadying until she was completely out.  Matthew, for his part, couldn’t stop staring up at the ceiling, ruminating not only on the events that had just transpired, but on the words that were just said.  The trauma she’d been through was inconceivable.  He hated thinking about it, though he knew he had to so he could really understand.  The anger that he felt towards the people who hurt her pure, innocent soul made his blood boil – so much so he was convinced that if he ever saw them, he’d tear them to pieces.  But he meant what he said: he never wanted her to feel that way again.  He wanted her to keep all the good things.  And he was adamant in making sure she had many more good things to remember.  

So many that hopefully, one day, they would outweigh the bad things.

[tuiccim]

A Scarred Enigma (Part 5)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC Lexa Green

Word Count: 1.7k

Trigger Warnings: Memories of child abuse and attempted sexual assault. Depression, anxiety, fear of touch.

Summary: Fellow Avenger Lexa Green is an enigma that intrigues Bucky to no end, but a painful past has left her scarred, both physically and mentally. Will she be able to overcome her past to find love in the future?

Divider by @firefly-graphics​/ Not beta read.​

A Scarred Enigma Masterlist

The next morning, Lexa is heading to the elevator when a voice calls from behind.

“Hey Lex. Wait up.” Bucky jogs to catch up.

“Hey Bucky.” She smiles shyly. 

“I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to do something today.” Bucky fidgets as he speaks. 

“Oh, I have an appointment this morning.” 

“Right. Sorry.” Bucky nods, but she sees the look of disappointment on his face and it makes Lex feel something she never expected to feel. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to reassure him she wasn’t just blowing him off. 

“But, I’ll be back around lunchtime. If you still want to, uh…”

“Yeah, yeah. That’d be great. I'll see you when you get back.” Bucky grins.

“Okay. Bye.” Lex exits.

At the doctor’s office, she holds herself rigid as feelings overwhelm her, making her want to run but, replaying Natasha’s words in her head, she forces herself to sit and wait. The office door opens and Lex’s stomach jumps. 

“Lexa?” Dr. Montesi smiles. 

“Hey Doc.”

“Come on in.” The doctor steps back from the door and Lex moves past her. Dr. Montesi takes a seat across from the one she motions Lex into. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

“Thanks,” Lex forces a smile.

“It’s normal to be nervous.”

Lex nods. 

“How have you been?” The doc tilts her head. 

“Good. I…”

“Yes?”

“I was put with the Avengers team. It’s been… good.”

“You usually work alone?”

“Yes, but it’s been good to have a team. Fr-friends.” Lex falters with the word.

“Friends are good to have.”

“Yeah. It’s been different. I like not always being alone but it scares me, too. They don’t know about me. My past, my scars.”

“Emotional or physical scars?”

“B-both. I have… a lot. My father…”

Dr. Montesi waits Lex out as she struggles to tell the story, but once she begins it pours out.

“I grew up in a cult. On a compound in the middle of nowhere. We were completely isolated. My birth father died and my mother was given to one of the leaders. I was three, I think. The man I knew as my father had two other wives and several children. He hated me because I wasn’t his. My mom died when I was eleven. That was when the ‘discipline’ began. He would beat me with a belt when I did anything wrong. Or whenever he just felt like it. Then I started to question, well, everything. Being a teenager, ya know. That’s when he began using the whip. He would mark me, rip my skin open, and it left scars. Four years of whippings and I was covered. My entire back, arms, shoulders, all of it. From the whip. Noone ever stopped him. Not even when I would bleed through my clothes, when I passed out from pain or blood loss. 

He planned to give me to his oldest son as a wife when I turned 16. Levi was four years older than me. I was okay with it. He wasn’t a bad guy, I thought. But once his father told him he got it into his head he owned me and he decided to test out his property. He caught me alone one day. He wanted to see what he was marrying, he said. He… he ripped my dress off. When he saw… he said I was disgusting. Disfigured. He deserved a wife who was perfect. He slapped me when I tried to speak, tried to explain. That’s when  his father found us. He whipped me for trying to seduce his son. Making him stray from the righteous path. 

He told me… He told me over and over again that no one would ever want me. Noone could love a scarred mess like me, so, when I turned 16 he would marry me since no one else ever would. No one would ever love me. No one would ever want to touch me. It was less than a month before my sixteenth birthday and, I don’t know, something in me snapped. He was beating me and I turned, caught the whip in my hand, and yanked him off his feet. He fell, came after me, and I killed him. I… I had to. I walked off the compound with the clothes on my back and survived by my wits until SHIELD found me and recruited me. I became an assassin for them. I worked alone mostly. I was paired with Clint and Natasha a couple of times and I managed to open up to them a little. They became my friends, eventually. Then they convinced me to work with the Avengers and so I agreed to six months and it’s almost up but... I don’t want to leave. I like it. I like having people around, friends. I still keep everyone at arm's length, though. My friend, Natasha, told me… She said I was fulfilling my father’s plans by doing that. I’m making myself the scarred mess no one can love because I can’t open up. And I realized she’s right but the thought of letting people in is terrifying. Being touched... “ Lex shakes her head, “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Letting people in. Getting hurt. That they’ll see the real me and not… That no one can really want me.” Lex fidgets with her hands and shrugs.

“Getting hurt is always a possibility but let me ask you something. Would you rather go back to being solitary and never getting hurt or keep the friends you have with the chance that you may be hurt by a few?” Dr. Montesi tilts her head as she gazes at Lex.

Lex thinks this over for a minute and her gut clenches knowing the answer. She couldn’t give up this new life. Her years alone had been safe but there had been no joy. Only missions and duty. Living with the team, being a part of it, meant more to her than she realized. "I want my friends."

"How do you feel about physical touch?"

"My mom always hugged me but that was really it. My father always told me no one would want me. Touching me was disgusting. My scars would make others sick if they saw."

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes. I’ve seen the looks people give me when they catch a glimpse. Fear, disgust, pity. Even Natasha couldn’t hide her shock when she first saw them.”

“Shock isn’t fear or disgust. It’s simply being taken off guard by something unexpected. Was she shocked or disgusted?”

“Sh-shocked. I think.”

“But you think everyone would be if they saw?”

“Sometimes Bucky makes me think that he wouldn't."

"Who's Bucky? You haven't mentioned him before."

"A teammate... a friend. I think he feels more than that for me but…"

"But?" The doctor prompts after a few moments of silence. 

"What if he's disgusted by my scars?"

"Then he wasn't really your friend. Does he like you for your looks or for you?"

"I think for me, but he doesn't really know me. He's nice and respectful and I like him. He's my friend."

"Do you want him to be more?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to feel about him. I like him. But I've never had a relationship. I don't know if I can feel that way."

"Why do you say that?"

"I just never have,” Lex shrugs.

"But you've also never let anyone in. I think, right now, you should worry less about if you can feel that way and instead just concentrate on building your friendships.  Don’t put the pressure on yourself to leap into a relationship or romance. Build your friendships… “ The doctor continues on for a few minutes and gives Lex some breathing exercises to help calm her when she feels her emotions build up. And then, the appointment is over and Dr. Montesi guides Lex out with a smile. 

Lex’s mind mulls over the past hour as she leaves the office as she drives back to the tower, as she rides the elevator up to the bedroom floor, to the point her head begins to ache. She wanders around her room for a few minutes before saying, “Friday, where…" What if he was only being nice? What if he's sick of me? If I text him, he can ignore me if he doesn't really want to see me. He's probably found something else to do. Lex's thoughts intrude. "... nevermind.” Her first inclination had been to find Bucky but she pulls out her phone instead.

Lex: Hey. I’m back. 

Less than a minute passed before Bucky answered.

Bucky: Great. Wanna meet in the kitchen for some lunch?

Bucky: Unless you wanted to go out to lunch?

Bucky: I'm up for whatever. 

Lex caught herself smiling at her phone. Bucky's uncertainty put her at ease for some reason. Maybe because she realized he was nervous about this friendship too. 

Lex: Kitchen in 5. 

As she approached, Lex smiled at the sight of Bucky puttering around the kitchen. "Hey."

"Hey. Do you like grilled cheese? I am a master at grilled cheese sandwiches," Bucky grins. 

"I do. Especially with tomato soup." 

"Great minds," Bucky tosses a can to Lex. "You're on soup duty."

She catches the can with ease and 15 minutes later, they sit at the table to eat. The day is spent comfortably together. Lunch, training, target practice, a grocery run, dinner, and then a movie. Bucky fell asleep towards the end of it and Lex looked at him from her spot on the opposite end of the couch. She was both enjoying and terrified of this friendship. And there was a large part of her that was curious of what his touch would feel like. What it would be like to feel the warmth of his skin and the cool of his metal. She had inched closer to him until she was at arms length. Slowly, she reached out, brushing her fingertips over his flesh hand, but just as quickly she pulled back. 

Scooting back, Lex says, “Bucky.”

“Mmm.,” Bucky moans and shifts. 

“Bucky,” Lex says louder. 

“Hmm? Oh, movie’s over?” Bucky stretches. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna head to bed. Good night.”

“Night. Sleep well.”

“You, too.” Lex heads out. 

Bucky’s eyes follow her as she goes. He had awoken the moment she touched him and his heart had leapt. It had been the briefest moment but, for him, it was a beacon of hope.

Part 6

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Updates and taglist: Updates for series will be made on weekly. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[show-choir-gal]

“Cryptography Degree” Sweets Imagine

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: “Omg please do a lance sweets x reader !!! One where he’s trying to protect you, there’s a fight/misunderstanding but then it ends fluffy ??? I found you on Wattpad you’re really good xx”

Warnings: Mild language (cursing), small fight, suggested nsfw

Word Count: 1.3K

Guide: Y/N - Your Name Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Masterlist of Masterlists

*************

I scanned my card and got into the FBI building and made my way to the elevator with my cup of coffee in one hand. I entered the elevator and pressed the button to my floor. This wasn’t a normal week, we were all on edge because the Jeffersonian discovered several bodies disfigured and killed in similar fashion and as our special agents gathered more evidence, we have come to the conclusion that there is, in fact, a serial killer on the loose in the state of South Carolina. I heard the ding of the elevator and watched the doors open as they pulled me out of my stressed glance. I walked out and headed towards my office, where I noticed Agent Booth was waiting for me. “Can’t get enough of me, can you Seeley?” I raised my eyebrow and let out a chuckle. “Ha ha ha, very funny. I do have a few questions though, before you open your office.”  I paused as I was just about to put the key in the lock, I turned around to look at him and I nodded my head and leaned up against the frame to the door, “Go ahead, shoot it.” “Alright, so you have a degree in Cryptography, correct?” “I have a Masters in Cryptography, correct.” “Oh, awesome!” “Next question?” I asked as I arched my eyebrow, not knowing where this was going. “We discovered a few new bodies from our old pal the unnamed sk. And Bones and Dr.Saroyan think they found cyphers... Would you be able to come down and look at them?” Booth asked as he held his breath. I sighed as I put the keys to my office back into my bag and lifted myself from the door frame I was just leaning on, Booth let out the breath he had held. I made my way back to the elevator. “I’ll call Dr.Saroyan and let them know you’re on your way.” Booth said. I pushed the down button on the elevator and I looked back at Booth before he disappeared into his own office. “He owes me a drink.” I whispered to myself with a chuckle.

I entered the Jeffersonian and showed my badge to the security guards, they let me walk in and I immediately made my way to Dr.Saroyans office. I knocked on the door and she looked up at me with a smile. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice Agent Y/L/N, we greatly appreciate it,” She said as she got up from her desk and made her way to me, “If you just follow me, Bones has the bodies lined up with the cyphers. I don’t know if Booth told you but the cyphers are...on...the bodies.” My breath hitched at the last sentence that came out of her mouth, but it was too late to say anything because now I was face to face with these bodies. “Agent Y/L/N, thank you for coming. These are the two cyphers we found on the bodies. This body on the left has been dead longer than the one on the right, if you need that information for your research.” Bones said as she made her way over to me so we could shake hands.  I shook her hand and grabbed the pen and pad of paper that I noticed on the table and wrote down each cypher and headed to Angela’s office. “Can I use your computer for the cyphers, Angela?” I asked as she looked at me, shocked I was in her office. “Oh of course honey, I’ll just get out of your way.” She said as she moved some things off the table to make room for me. I took a picture of the two cyphers and transferred the images onto the computer. I decided to conquer the first cypher, going through common cyphers that anyone could figure out to some that were more for someone who wanted to keep their trail hidden. It took a few hours but I cracked it...finally.

“These children that come at you with knives – they are your children. You taught them. I didn’t teach them. I just tried to help them stand up.”

“I know that from somewhere.” Angela said, looking at my solved cypher on the screen. “It’s Charles Manson, cult leader of the “Manson Family” “ I replied as I then pulled up the second cypher, and used the same method from the first cypher to see if they matched and alas, they did.

“Better by you, Better than Me.”

Angela started to speak, “I know that. That’s...” “The song by Judas Priest that caused them to be on trial for subliminal messages that supposedly caused a boys suicide.” I cut in, staring at the screen. “How did that trial pan out?” Angela asked as she crossed her arms, looking at the screen of the computer. “Oh, they were found not guilty. Quite an interesting story though, Rolling Stones covered it, you should read into it.”

Angela and I were in that room for hours, trying to come up with some idea of what these cyphers could mean and why they were being used in these murders. Eventually my watches alarm went off, signalling that it was time to go home. We closed the windows down and I wished everyone a good night and a safe return home for the night. I walked into the parking garage and unlocked the door to my car. I put my bags in the passenger seat and my coffee cup in the cupholder. I hopped into my drivers seat, turned my car on and drove to my shared apartment. When I pulled into my parking spot, I noticed Sweets wasn’t home yet. I shrugged it off as a late session and I made my way up to our shared apartment to start on dinner. I made seared steak tips with garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus. I texted Sweets about when he was going to get back but after 10 minutes of no response I sighed and wrapped his food up and put it in a free spot in the refrigerator. 

I went and sat on the couch and got on to Netflix and started to watch “Seed of Chucky” since that always put me in a brighter mood. About 2 hours later the movie finished and there was still no sign of him. I was thoroughly annoyed at this point and just shut the television off and headed to bed. I got into my pyjamas and got into bed and turned the lights off. I was just about to drift into my slumber when I felt hands wrap around my body and a kiss was delicately placed upon the back of my head. “Where the fuck were you?” I asked, not rolling over. “W-What? What are you talking about?” Sweets asked, which prompted me to roll over. “Where the fuck where you?” I asked again, now looking at him. “What are you talking about Y/N? I texted you that a few of us from the office went out for dinner and drinks.” “No you didn’t Lance. I wouldn’t be upset if you simply just texted me and let me know.” “I’ll show you then.” Lance grabbed his phone and opened it, he then sucked air in and then sighed. “It didn’t send, but I did text you...see?” He said as he showed me his phone, lo and behold it was there but it never sent. “You should’ve double checked.” I said, with a sign as I turned back over. “You’re right, I should’ve checked to make sure you got it. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” I turned back over and pulled him over to me, “Oh, I have an idea.” I said with a smirk.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Supernova | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2712

A/N: This technically is part 2 to Galaxy, but can be read standalone. Mostly I just wanted to write a fic for Entropy and already had a universe that I could work with. 

GALAXY MASTERLIST

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, PTSD, alcohol. SPOILERS FOR 11x11 (Entropy).

“Let me go.”

“No,” your unit chief didn’t look up from the file he was reading as you paced in front of his desk.

“Let me go with JJ,” you tried again.

“No,” Hotch’s eyes stayed glued to the information in front of him.

“Let me go with Rossi, he won’t let me do anything irrational. I won’t do anything irrational anyways, I don’t need a babysitter, but I will literally do anything if it means you’ll let me go to that restaurant.”

“You’re not going.”

“Hotch-”

“I’m not going to tell you again, (y/n). I know you want to help, you can do that from here,” he finally looked up at you, stone-faced. You sighed in defeat and left his office, slumping down at your own desk once you had crossed the bullpen. A steaming cup of coffee was slid in front of you, Penelope’s gentle hand resting on your shoulder for a moment before she sat down across from Spencer’s desk.

“Thanks,” your words were quiet and defeated, characteristics that weren’t normal for you. You took the cup in your hands but it was only a matter of minutes before you were pacing again, watching your friends- your family gather as they prepared for the events that were about to happen.

JJ, clad in a fluffy burgundy jacket, approached you slowly, “you ok?”

“I should be going with you,” you told her, “Hotch thinks I’m a liability, but I don’t see how keeping a fully functioning agent on the sidelines is any better.”

“Are you fully functioning? I’m sorry, (y/n), but I agree with Hotch. We’ll keep him safe, you do what you can from here.”

“That’s just it, Jayje. I can’t do anything from here. We already have a profile, all of my other skills are entirely field-based. I’m going to spend all night pretending to go over the case files while the rest of my family takes down a hitwoman.”

You glanced over your shoulder to where Spencer was standing by Garcia, quickly tying his tie as they searched for information. You had lived through so many cases with the boy wonder by your side, and somehow this was the one that was making your heart stop and it hadn’t even happened yet.  

“Why is it always him?” JJ’s eyes narrowed as you spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“The train, the shed, the cult, the Anthrax, Maeve, Gideon, shot in the knee, shot in the arm, shot in the neck,” you listed, “I know what we do is dangerous but even for an FBI agent he’s experienced so much…trauma. I just want to put some bubble wrap on him for once.”

“He’s going to be ok,” she reached out a reassuring hand. You leaned into her, still feeling like you were suffocating with what-ifs that could happen to your best friend while you were stuck in the office.

Spencer strode over to you shortly after, sticking his arms through a suit jacket as he crossed the room.

“Hey handsome,” you tried impossibly hard to keep your tone light, not wanting to worry your friend before he went out on this case. His face still softened when he saw your disheveled state. JJ squeezed your arm lightly before walking over to Rossi, leaving you alone with the doctor.

“You’re worried about me,” he observed.

“Is that a crime? You’re having dinner with a hitwoman, I have every right to be worried, especially since Hotch sidelined me.”

“Yeah… about that,” Spencer stuck his hands in his pockets nervously, his tongue flickering over his lips.

“You didn’t,” you wanted to get angry as it dawned on you, but you were still too convinced this was the last time you were going to see your best friend.

“I could tell you weren’t happy with the plan when I first pitched it to you. I asked Hotch to keep an eye on you just in case. He’s being careful, (y/n).”

“I’m still not happy with this plan. I’m even less happy that I’m not allowed to participate,”

“I know, but once Cat is in custody you can come over to my apartment and we’ll watch as many episodes of Doctor Who as you want,” he proposed.

You shifted your weight as you considered his offer, “are you sure this is going to work?”

“There’s no other way.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “but we’re starting with Nine. Chris Eccleston is severely underrated.”

“Perfect,” Spencer smiled softly at you before checking his watch, “we should get going. You’re going to be ok here with Garcia.” You nodded, following him towards the glass doors as the dread of what he was walking into crept up your spine again.

He pushed the button on the wall, idly twisting his fingers together as you waited for the elevator to arrive.

“Spencer,” he turned to you with the most genuinely soft Spencer smile, “you’re the only you we’ve got. We can’t-” you cleared your throat, “I can’t lose you.”

“I know,” his voice was soft and calm and embodied everything you loved about the genius. Anything he was going to say after that was interrupted by the ding of the elevator doors opening beside you.

As much as it pained you to watch him get onto the elevator and leave you behind, you had complete faith in his abilities. It was the unpredictable nature of everyone else involved in the network that scared you the most. The rest of the team came from behind you, each patting your shoulder as they passed. Derek was the last, pulling you into a tight hug.

“We’ve got this. He’s got this,” he whispered.

“Promise you’ll bring him back alive?”

“I promise,” he squeezed you even tighter before letting you go and joining the rest of your colleagues.

“This is the worst part,” Penelope said from your side as you watched the elevator doors close.

“I can’t keep wallowing. I need something to do. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“We’ll go to the batcave! There’s plenty to do there,” she smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you into her office. Eventually Hotch joined you, directing Garcia to start patching in the various team members.

You could feel the stagnant tension between you and the unit chief and you didn’t like it. As seemingly emotionless and serious as Hotch was he filled a certain void in your life that had been missing since you were young. He was your boss though, and you had just tried to go against his orders so the tension was unavoidable.

While everyone was getting situated Hotch tasked you with going over every bit of information that had been gathered from the Sniper. It was a menial task like you had predicted, everyone had poured over these files a million times prior to tonight, and though you appreciated the attempt at distraction you couldn’t help but turn your head to Garcia’s monitors any time you heard something from the team.

“JJ stand down,” Hotch directed. Abandoning your files you scooted your chair to Garcia’s other side to watch the screen in front of you. You didn’t dare say anything, this was Hotch’s call to make. You started listening deeper to the conversation Spencer was having with Cat, chewing on your bottom lip as you did so. You had spent years listening to him talk, but this was a whole new level of banter. Cat was keeping up with him at an impossible speed. You watched as she reached up to grab Spencer’s tie.

“She muffled the mic, we lost audio,” Garcia practically whispered next to you. You waited for what felt like an eternity before you heard Reid’s voice again.

“Rossi, stand down. Please,” his eyebrows furrowed as he tucked his tie back into his vest.

“I should be in there,” you mumbled, eyes glued to his face on the screen.

“She doesn’t know about Morgan and Lewis,” Hotch reminded you. You held back your retort when the team collectively learned about the bomb that was planted under the building. The impending danger gave your intuitive mind something more productive to focus on, but amidst the chaos you still heard Spencer’s voice, clear as day.

“Double or nothing I can get you to sit back down.”

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch asked, still trying to work out the bomb situation.

“Spencer,” you hissed even though he couldn’t hear you, pressing your earpiece impossibly further into your ear. You listened as Spencer countered with Cat until she sat down again and he resumed his story.

“Wait. Your mother- tell me.” As Spencer started talking about his trip to Las Vegas, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Penelope looked at Hotch.

“Did you know?”

“No,” she turned to you.

“Did you know?”

You cleared your throat slightly, though it didn’t seem to help, “no, he said he’d tell me about his trip later, once we were done with the case.” You were shocked, to say the least, and frustrated that you hadn’t seen something like this coming. Spencer had seemed so normal when you met up with him at work earlier that day, even hugging you when he found you spinning in your desk chair waiting for him.

“I’ve got her,” Lewis’ voice broke your thoughts as she and Morgan started moving towards the Bomber. In your earpiece you could hear their struggle, but all you could see was Cat pointing the gun at your best friend’s face. Penelope reached over to grab your hand as Morgan started talking to Cat.

“Kid I am trying to save your life, now let me do that.”

“He promised,” your voice was so soft you weren’t even sure if you were speaking aloud, “he promised, he promised, he promised.”

As Spencer had previously mentioned, this was not the first time a killer had pointed a gun at him. It was also not the first time you had seen a gun pointed at him. The difference was that all of the other times you had seen Spencer at gunpoint you had been on site with him. You knew the doctor could handle himself, he didn’t need you to save him, but if he got shot in that restaurant you wouldn’t be there fast enough to say goodbye.

Your eyes narrowed and your brows smashed together as Cat was placed in handcuffs. You didn’t like the way she requested Spencer walk her out.

“You want to go home?” Hotch asked Garcia, putting his hand on her shoulder. The woman beside you was sobbing as she nodded. You couldn’t imagine the relief she must have been feeling, though you were experiencing your own kind of relief knowing that Spencer was safe.

You helped Penelope pack up her things and drove home with her, thankful for the distraction because you knew it would still be a while before Spencer came back to the office.

“I’m going over to Derek and Savannah’s for drinks, are you coming? We’re celebrating my freedom!” She called from her bedroom.

“I don’t know, Spencer and I were going to watch Doctor Who at his place,” you fiddled with the buttons on your phone, waiting for Reid to call.

“He can meet you at Derek’s. Come on, it’ll be fun,” she took your hand, not giving you another option. Normally you would be more gung-ho about spending time with your friends, especially with an outcome as positive as the one that had happened in that restaurant, but there was a weight on your chest that wasn’t going away and it made you unsettled.

This feeling continued even when Penelope started drinking. Savannah gave you a glass of wine, but you only had a few sips before excusing yourself to the bathroom. Standing over the sink, you struggled to breathe and it felt like your heart was going to explode out of your tightening chest. You couldn’t get the image of Spencer being held hostage out of your head. It felt like every flashback you had experienced since coming home from overseas, though you hadn’t had an episode like that in months.

You focused on your breathing, deep breaths that rattled your bones, and tried to calm yourself down. You vaguely heard a commotion coming from the front of the house, so you focused on that until you could breathe normally again. You brushed a wayward tear from your cheek, then stepped out of the bathroom. Penelope was wearing significantly less clothing, and Derek was standing in the entryway with Savannah.

Derek released his grip on his girlfriend to hug you, “I told you I wouldn’t let him die.”

“Where is he?”

“He said he was going home. He only left a few minutes ago, you should be able to catch up to him,” Derek pulled away from you.

“Thanks,” you told him sincerely, grabbing your phone and keys before heading out the door. You didn’t expect to find your friend so soon, but his lanky frame was unmistakeable sitting on a swing in the park between Derek’s house and Spencer’s apartment.

You didn’t say anything when you approached, instead sinking down onto the swing next to him and digging your feet into the woodchips beneath you.

“Were you at Derek’s?” he finally spoke.

“Yeah, Garcia made me go. I thought she told you,” you laughed quietly.

“No, I would have waited for you if I had known. Do you still want to come back to my place?” he turned to you for the first time. Even in the darkness you could see the circles under his eyes.

“Are you sure? I can take a rain check if you need some time to breathe. That case was…” you trailed off, not sure if you could find the words to explain the evening’s events. Spencer didn’t answer, instead leaving a pregnant pause in the warm evening air before finally speaking.

“It’s kind of ironic.”

“What is?”

“My whole life the one thing I’ve been good at is remembering, and now I’m faced with a disease that could take that away,” there was melancholy in his words, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen since the night he had told you about his Dilaudid addiction.

“Are you going to get tested?” you knew he wasn’t looking for advice or your opinion, the best you could do was help lay out what you knew was a tangled mess of thoughts inside his mind.

“I can’t. I’m too young to show the chromosomal indicators,” he went back to looking at his feet, “I just need to fix it to help my mom and maybe I’ll figure out a solution for myself along the way.”

“Your mom is a tough lady. Whatever you work out in that brain of yours, even if it ends up being completely wrong, it’s going to be with the best intentions for your family. You have a heart of gold, Spencer Reid,” you saw the corner of his mouth pull upwards.

“I would really like it if you would come over,” he stood up from the swing, “I don’t think either of us should be completely alone tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked as you joined him, starting to walk shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk towards his building.

“You had a panic attack earlier,” his nonchalant words caught you off guard.

“Yeah, at Derek’s house. It was mild though, I worked through it pretty quickly. How did you know?”

“You’ve been fidgeting with your bracelet this whole time. You only do that when you’re trying to ground yourself.”

“You know me too well,” you smirked.

“You know me in a way I never thought possible,” he retorted emphatically.

“I know I make it look easy but trust me, it’s not,” your tone was light and teasing, a much needed lapse of normalcy from the otherwise heavy night.

You and Spencer were two inseparable souls, intertwined because the universe saw two lost kids who desperately needed someone to understand them in a way only the other could provide.

“You were wrong, by the way.”

“Wrong? About what?”

“There are plenty of things you’re good at besides remembering. Don’t sell yourself so short.”

GALAXY MASTERLIST

[realm-sweet-realm]

Prison Cell, chapter 1

Well, this one took on a life of its own. I intended to write a simple one-off taking place in an AU where the studio became the sketch dimension before most of the sacrifices were made. Turns out that this is going to take longer than that. While this AU will have an emphasis on horror, especially in the later chapters, I also want to show the resilience of some of these characters.

---

Joey Drew Studios was once an animation studio. Functionally, it still was. But before everyone’s eyes, it had become Hell.

The machine had been hard to ignore, but easy not to look into. No one seemed to know what it did save for a few, but no one was about to quit over it during the Great Depression.

The cult behaviour, in retrospect, had been the first sign. It isn’t everywhere that your boss demands an item from your workplace as a sacrifice to the Gods. But back then, it had seemed nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Pedestals had been set up in the break rooms. Sometimes your coworkers would go there to pray. It was strange. But again, not worth looking into, and not worth quitting over.

Joey had always been eccentric. Joey had always been unreasonable. Joey had always had an angry streak. If any of that was getting worse, it was getting worse at a fairly slow rate.

All of it happened so slowly. Until it happened all at once. The machine malfunctioned. It went into overdrive. Gent workers had rushed to quiet it. They turned off its power supply, and nothing happened. In desperation, they broke the pipes that had once fed it ink, and nothing happened. Finally, they frantically tried to dismantle it as it spewed ink, and... nothing happened. Even the strongest of men could not so much as loosen a bolt from the machine.

Then, something happened. An rapidly-growing area surrounding the machine lost its colour and detail- reduced to lines on a page.

In a last-ditch attempt to fix the machine, Joey and the closest members of his inner circle entered the ink machine room. No one knew what had happened. To outsiders, it had sounded like the ink machine had exploded. No one who had been in the room at the time emerged except for Sammy Lawrence, who came out limping and covered head-to-toe in ink.

From that point on, no one could leave. Doors to the outside were locked, and windows showed only black void. Sammy talked to many people in private in the coming days, and firm lines were drawn between those who were loyal to the cult, and those who weren’t- those who were donning masks and uniform. Those who were loyal left the studio occasionally- for meetings or to pick up supplies. Those who were not loyal had no way of knowing how they did.

Joey Drew still existed. Early on, there were rumours that he was dead and that his loyalists were merely following him in spirit, but before long, most people knew someone who had seen his new form.

Work remained much the same, albeit with a few fewer people, who had either not been in the studio that day, or whose primary duty was now distribution and getting supplies because they were some of the only people allowed outside. Everyone fulfilled their role. Gent workers maintained the machine. The others made cartoons, which, apparently, were still making it out to the outside world somehow. They ate. They slept. They mourned their losses. They formed small groups and tried to keep hope. A few small insurrections began, but but quickly ended in violence and were abandoned. With no access to medical professionals, no one wanted violence.

While no one in the studio had it easy, Susie Campbell held an additional secret. Every few days in the dead of night, a creature would come to her- a creature with a mask and curling, demonic horns made of ink. She’d wake up to the horrible creature sitting on her chest so she couldn’t move, and it would put a syringe in her neck and draw blood. This went on for weeks. Locking the door didn’t stop it. Eventually, it made her want to sleep as little as possible, and she began to wander the halls at night, oftentimes falling asleep in random places.

One night, after falling asleep in a hallway in the music department, she was roused by Norman Polk.

“Hey. Come with me tonight,” he whispered, helping her up. “That thing’s been stealing your blood, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Susie whispered back.

“I know someone else in that situation. But don’t worry- it doesn’t bother him anymore, either.”

Norman led Susie into one of the offices. Two cots had been set up, and one already had a person sleeping in it. “You settle in. I’ll go and look for another cot to bring in here. If the demon wants your blood, it’ll have to go through me.”

“Thank you,” Susie said. She wanted to say more, but didn’t know what to say. She was fast asleep before Norman returned.

Before the transformation of the studio, it would have been strange to see the two of them together, but times had changed. The big, strange, sneaky cryptid had gone from someone you avoided to someone you wanted on your side. And yet, on a social level Norman still mostly left the music room to themselves most days- he preferred to eavesdrop or hang out with the people who’d accepted him before all of this.

That changed after he started sharing a room with Susie, though. She started inviting him to talk with her and Wally, or any of her other friends in the music room, and he’d agree to it, mostly because he wanted to spend time with her. Eventually it became well-known what he was doing for his ‘guests.’

It continued like that for a few weeks. The creature found other victims before it found her. Then, one night, it slipped into the room, and it did not like what it saw. Two of its previous victims, including Susie Campbell. Susie was tucked into Norman’s arms. She opened her eyes for a moment, saw him, and went back to sleep. She felt safe and protected, and it made the demon’s blood boil. Blood wasn’t worth being clobbered for- not while he could get it elsewhere. But something had to be done.

The night after, Thomas Connor and two men nearly as strong as he was, each wearing loyalist uniforms and masks, entered the room. They pulled Norman out of bed, handcuffed and gagged him, and began to lead him away. Susie woke up to the feeling of him being pulled off of her.

For a moment, she was stunned. The next, she was yelling for help. The man in the other bed woke up as well. Susie had never gotten to know her “roommate,” but that didn’t matter now. “Come with me,” she said. “We need to wake people up!”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see. Just trust me!” Susie had thought this day might come for quite some time, and she’d planned for it.

And so, the two followed the loyalists down the hall, banging on the doors and yelling to try and wake people up. Susie cursed herself for not finding out where people had been holing up. Her partner eventually found Emma Lamonte. Finally, one of the doors opened- it was Henry Stein- another person who could fight decently enough. “Henry, you’ve got to help. They’re taking Norman away. Hurry!”

Henry looked over to see it happening, and hesitated.

“Henry, if they get him on that elevator, we’ll never see him again!” Henry jolted into action, and soon he and Emma were in close range of the three loyalists.

It ended about as quickly. Emma managed to mule-kick one of the men in the stomach and knock the wind out of him before another one of the men snuck up behind her and began to choke her. Thomas was still holding Norman Polk as he squirmed in attempt to escape. Henry attempted to punch out the man strangling Emma, and he managed a few blows, but the man she’d kicked recovered and restrained Henry until Emma was unconscious. Once she was unconscious, her attacker rejoined Thomas, and they dragged Norman to the elevator. Before morning, Emma had been taken, too. Henry had run.

---

“I should have gotten in there,” Susie’s roommate said, breaking a long, tearful silence between them.

“You couldn’t have done anything. Those men were twice your size.” It hadn’t been as though they hadn’t spent the duration of the fight banging on doors in hopes of finding allies.

“I know.”

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around the music department.”

“Grant Cohen. Finances.”

“Oh. Norman’s talked about you. Well, I’m glad you’re from another department. Tomorrow, I’m going to try and get as many people together as possible- a rescue party, I guess. You could help. Tell everyone in your department to meet in the recording theatre after hours.”

Grant laughed bitterly. “Sure. I’ll gather all the bravest souls in accounting and finance.” There was a pause. “Don’t you get it? We’re helpless. People haven’t been forming big groups because when they do, things like this happen. And anyhow, I’d bet anything that Norman is dead already.”

A part of Susie agreed. But that wasn’t the useful part of her right now. “Look, I’m not going to try and convince you. But personally, I don’t like feeling helpless just because I can’t knock out Thomas Connor.”

---

The following evening, Susie had gathered quite a number of people. Henry’s friends had come, terrified that he was essentially a wanted man and that he had to be hidden from loyalists. Grant had showed up with a few others from accounting that had agreed to come along. And of course, the music department had all noticed Norman’s absence.

Susie began the meeting by telling the story of what had happened to Norman. Surprisingly, what followed was a number of other people coming out about various grievances. A few others had had the same experience as Susie, of having their blood harvested. There were also a few from other departments who had refused to work and had been punished by having one of their bones broken in the night. Wally complained about having to mop up blood.

“We need to handle all of that, too. But first can we talk about Norman?” Susie said, trying to regain control of the meeting.

“If he got onto the elevator, he’s probably dead,” Abby said, as gently as she could. “Or at least, he’s on one of their levels. There’s no way we can go down there and rescue him. But, since you’ve brought us all together, we might as well get organized. Maybe there’s a way for us to defend each other. And figure out who will be running the projector from now on.”

A knock at the door sounded, and everyone in the room went perfectly still.

“Do we open it?” Susie asked.

It seemed entirely ridiculous that the loyalists would try to get in by politely knocking.

“If they’re right outside this door, this meeting is over anyhow, and we can’t stay in here forever,” Abby reasoned.

On the other side of the door was Sammy Lawrence, holding a cardboard box. He was wearing the uniform of the loyalists, but thankfully he was alone. “I am not your enemy. I come bearing gifts,” he said.

Abby carefully opened the box, as though she were disarming a bomb. Inside were a few loyalist uniforms and masks of different sizes. She inspected them carefully and found nothing suspicious about them.

“Why?” Abby asked.

“Joey is working on a way out for all of us. None of us are getting out without his help. That is why I’m a loyalist. But, evermore since the machine cursed us, he’s been… worsening. I still have hope that he will get us out of here, but until then, you need to stand up for yourselves. Consider these a tool- they could let you visit the lower levels. But I beg of you- don’t interfere with loyalist work. Loyalist work is what allows some of us to visit the outside, and us going to the outside is what keeps you fed. Remember that.”

Abby nodded. “Thank you. This is very… courageous of you, Mr. Lawrence. But we’re still going to escort you to the elevator now. We can’t risk that this is just you trying to spy on us.”

Sammy did not resist as Henry and Jack escorted him to the elevator, and he left for the lower floors without issue.

“Well," Abby said, “I guess we have a way of finding out what happened to him after all.”

[stargazerholland]

Home - Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary : You’re left to do an English assignment that catches you off guard, but Peter may or may not have been your inspiration.

Warnings: Cussing (let me know if you find any, though!)

Words: 3.2 k

What is home? The message was sprawled across the board as your English teacher, Mr. Gilloway stared at the class, eyebrows scrunched up and his hooked nose crinkled. The soft light bounced off of his bald head. 

“Since you all like to complain about wanting to go home, you might as well write down what is home. You can either write it as a descriptive piece, because I’d live to know why you want to go so badly,” he said sarcastically, “Or whatever comes to mind. It’s due in a month, so Flash, you better not complain about not having completed your work. You will also have to present in front of the class just so I can hear your wonderful voices grace my god-awful days. Class dismissed.” 

You had no idea as to what is home to you, as you’ve never felt at home wherever you go. It seemed as though you never stuck to one place. A million thoughts ran through your mind thinking of a solution as to how you were going to come up with an answer, when you meet up with your best friends, Ned Leeds and Peter Parker near the school’s overcrowded parking lot.

“Hey, Y/N! Are you ok? You look a bit.. distracted.” Ned stated, his voice laced with concern. Ned always looked out for you, right after Peter. The duo had welcomed you into their “super secret that no other soul should ever be told cult” with open arms, when you had first moved to Queens. Overtime, the three of you were inseparable, the school knowing you as the three who would be sitting in the quiet, snug corner of the cafeteria fighting over who was the actual hero in Star Wars. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thrown ‘off the rails’, if that’s even a saying,” You created air quotes to try to emphasize it, “it’s just Mr. Gilloway being a pain in the ass with his ‘deep and meaningful projects’ that are supposed to bring us to a realization of some unknown idea to our ‘uneducated minds’, whatever he means.” The Polynesian boy smiled, his pudgy cheeks showing off the rosiness of his almond skin tone.

“Peter and I both told you not to take AP English and look at where it got you, huh,” he taunted, as you looked to see both of them give their signature ‘I told you so’ faces, with their eyebrows raised and an amused smile, “just goes to show that we’re always right.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you moved on to go home, 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks mom. I’m gonna head out now. See you in chem tomorrow.” Before you left to catch the subway, Peter grabbed your wrist and said, 

“Wanna come over? May misses you and we’d love to have you for the evening.”

You quickly nodded in affirmation and sent your mom a text to let her know about your whereabouts. The ride to his place was the same as always, sharing the headphones to listen to AC/DC, you complaining about Flash being your lab partner, and Peter sharing the previous night’s events during his patrol. Everything felt right at the moment, as if he was your safety blanket. Peter had the ability to radiate this sense of comfort even if you were across the room from him. 

The subway finally stopped at your final destination, and you soon found yourself in the small, cozy apartment. It was the same as always, the soft grey throw blanket draped over the back of the worn out brown couch, and the smell of charred bread in the air. It was simple, just like the family. You sent a simple wave to Peter’s Aunt May and followed Peter to his room to start on your Chemistry homework. 

Hours later, there were papers filled with math calculations and Chemistry formulas scattering the small room, as Peter was munching on some cheese-flavored potato chips. 

“Did you get seventeen moles of copper nitrate for number 8?” Peter inquired, causing you to let out a groan.

“It’s seventeen? I got twenty-nine. Pete, I’m a hopeless teenager who doesn’t understand a single thing about this right now,” You heard a chuckle across from you and looked up, only to find Peter staring at you, something was different about his expression, but you still threw you eraser at him. Peter simply replied, 

“Instead of complaining, you could have just asked. Lemme see what’s wrong… Ah,” he went on to explain the confusing lesson, however everything he said became sets of useless words as you were focusing on what was happening to you. Your entire body filled with warmth, while your heart was beating feverishly, like you’d just ran a marathon. The constant feeling of elevation in your stomach was overbearing, it felt like the spark on a tungsten before it reached the gunpowder for fireworks. It was different to what authors wrote in their stories, it was so much more than what you’d imagine, but it didn’t feel like love. The constant overcame your mind until you heard Peter call your name,  

“Y/N, Y/N, are you still alive? May’s calling us for dinner, it’s Thai Food Thursday.” For the rest of the night, you could feel yourself being distant and distracted from the conversation, all thanks to Peter. 

A week later, you still hadn’t made any progress on your English paper, which made you dread English class even more than you had before. Your past made it harder to even get an understanding of what home even was when all you could think of was your father. 

Your father was always distant from you and your mother, acting like a guest at a bed and breakfast where he was only there for the night. Some weeks, he’d have to leave for a business trip, not coming back for a few weeks, or at least you thought that until you found him at a city nearby while being on a class field trip the fifth grade. He was with a familiar woman who you’d known growing up, Aunt Lydia, your mother’s younger sister. It turned out that your father had become infatuated with her in the duration of his first marriage, eventually starting a new family with Aunt Lydia and being much happier with her. The news spread like wildfire in a forest, eventually getting to your mother last. It broke you to know that your father would rather spend his days with some other kids than with you, another woman instead of your mother. After a short 2 weeks, the two of you had packed your bags and moved to Queens to forget the past, making it seem as if everything you knew from before was now supposed to be thrown out of a window. The project was no use when now all you could think of was a cold space where tension was intermingled in the air, and pain stained into the deepest threads of the couch pillows when you thought of home. 

The library was almost completely empty, which was usual considering that the people of New York had better things to do than spend their time at the library, except for you, Peter, and now Ned. It was your annual reader’s binge night, where you’d all spend the afternoon reading a book from start to end, and then go out for a sub at the small, family-owned deli from around the corner. It was a tradition, and allowed you to bask in each other’s presence without the hassle of having to talk. The sounds of iced coffee being sipped and the constant whoosh of pages could be heard throughout the day. After the author had infuriated you enough with their cliche-filled sci-fi novel, you looked up to break the silence, until the sight of the room stopped you. More specifically, Peter. The sunlight shining in through the gigantic windows had illuminated the small features of his fair, pale face, like the freckles that were sprinkled all over his nose and cheeks just as the course sugar on sugar cookies. His chestnut brown hair became an array of colors as the copper undertones shining through, as he was concentrating on the book before him. Peter’s state of peace made you feel safe, as if nothing bad was going to happen to you. The time flew by as if it were like seconds as you continued to take in his image, until you felt a twinge on the side of your head, looking to your side to find a plastic straw on the ground.

“Y/N, you can stare at Peter after finishing the book. Now hurry up or else Mr. Delmar’s is gonna close up shop before we even finish!” Ned exclaimed as he smirked at your actions. Peter softly chuckled as you flipped off Ned, before all three of you went back to the book. While you mindlessly flipped pages, all that you could ponder was the same weird feeling that you felt at Peter’s house. It was almost as if you belonged there, as if you weren’t an outcast who had came out of nowhere. There was something about the feelings you had that you couldn’t comprehend completely, but it was becoming more and more prominent to you each day. Whatever the universe is trying to tell me, it sure is fucking me over, you thought, just as you saw your best friends close their books. Peter saw your expression, it was evident that you were deep in thought, and asked, 

“You okay, Y/N?” To which you simply replied in the most New York way possible, 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wanna go grabba sub now?”

You picked up the group’s sandwiches and headed over when you heard Ned and Peter talking about you, 

“I don’t know, Ned, Y/N is hard to be around when she can’t even take a hint,” You stopped dead in your tracks, like gravity was pulling you down and you weren’t able to move your feet. It felt like the day at the school field trip, everything you once knew was fabricated and far from what you thought your friendship was. 

“Peter, you’re going to have to tell her someday. It’s hurting you and it's probably gonna hurt her too in the future,” you took your chance and walked in before any more damage could be done to your friendship. 

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” You said as you sat down. The two shook their heads, muttering words that you couldn’t make out, and started a new conversation. Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but wonder about what you’d done wrong, guilt and fear flowing through your veins as if your blood had been replaced with it. 

You  invited Peter over the next day for dinner to repay him for when you ate at his house last time, and in hopes to try to mend whatever tension Peter was feeling. The dingy apartment that you’d been living in for the past 5 years was usually dull and quiet, your mom still hadn’t comprehended how her sister could betray her and you were left trying to feel the same way as she did when you were younger, when your family wasn’t broken. While eating the burnt ends of your chicken parm, the English project was still running on your mind. Of course Peter knew you were thinking about it, so naturally, he had to ask how the English assignment was coming along. 

“I can’t connect with anyone or anything that relates to my home. I am genuinely convinced that literally everyone hates me, and soon I’ll be living alone with my three cats in a studio apartment!” You complained as your arms flew up in exaggeration. Peter, on the other hand, seemed frustrated, with his eyes in annoyance and his knuckles turning white from clenching them so hard. Peter cried,

“Well, maybe if you would just open up and try to let more people into your life, then you wouldn’t be here right now!” At this point, the tension you tried to get rid of was now a thick fog that couldn’t be seen through. 

“That’s impossible, Peter! You, out of all people, know it’s hard for me to get close with someone, when practically no one finds me bearable,” you looked at him with anger, “not even you.” Peter was taken aback, 

“How did you hear that?” 

“So it was true,” you scoffed as you felt the wet trail of plump tears run down your cheeks, “gee, thanks a lot, Pete.” He stood up, intimidating you, as he boomed,

“Well, yeah, it is. All you ever do is push away anyone whoever tries to get close to you. You’ve built this thick barrier around everyone and it stupid. Grow up and stop acting like a four year-old, it's annoying,” and immediately walked out the tiny apartment’s door. 

You sunk down in your chair, the tears flowing faster and add onto the pain-ridden apartment. There goes someone else I love, you pondered, I love you, Peter, more than I’ve loved anyone else. 

Your English assignment was now due in a week and a half's worth of time and you’d barely had an outline or a single idea as to what you wanted to write about. For multiple nights, you would just sit in front of your grey, busted laptop and stare at the blank document until you’d figured it was now time to sleep. Multiple sentences that were once on the document soon disappeared by the click of a button immediately after.

As sleep-deprived teenagers rushed to leave the room, you went up to Mr. Gilloway, intimidated by the hunch on his back that formed every time he was scrolling down the New York Times about another political outburst from the Senator. It wasn’t that Mr. Gilloway was bad in person, it was just that he tended to be very unfiltered. All it took was one glance from him and you knew that you were going to take in the bitter and harshful words about not working on the assignment. But you took the leap anyway, and took all the courage you had in you to ask,

“Mr. Gilloway, I don’t know what to write for the assignment. I keep thinking about it, but nothing is coming to mind and I really have no clue as to what home is.” Squeezing you eyes, you braced for the string of words that were meaningless to him.  

“Well, what was it like for you to be at home? Anyone particular who comes to mind? Or perhaps a memory that just replays over and over in your head? Remember, Y/N that home is not a definitive object, you can make it anything you want. It could be the simplest idea, or something over the top, but that is what it means to you. I have full trust in you to go with your guts and write wha’ is home to you,” Mr. Gilloway gently replied. His response was out of character compared to who he really was. It was unrecognizable, sympathy and gentleness was the last thing that would come across anyone’s mind when they thought of Mr. Gilloway. Unable to form words, you nodded your head, only to hear, “Now go, I need to catch up on what our jackass of a Senator we have right now.” 

It wasn’t until you got onto your laptop once again when you knew what to write about. You finally had an idea. 

It was finally the day of the presentation and your nerves got the best of you. The past week was more muted, with evenings spent writing the English assignment, and the daytime spent studying in the library in hopes to avoid Peter. It was also the most emotionally draining week, knowing you couldn’t just go up and tell him how you really felt about him. 

Y/N, it’s your turn. And Flash, puh-LEASE keep the flirting for someplace else, my classroom is not a ‘Singles Mingle’,” Mr. Gilloway said. The voice at the back of your head kept telling you don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up. The anxiety of sharing something so intimate with a group of bored teenagers was nerve wracking, so much so that your hands were quivering. 

“Home is an abstract idea, and to most people, it is their place to go to sleep, eat, and repeat. In my entire life, I'd never felt like I was at home until just recently when I came to know how I know I am at home. Home is a blend of emotions, where there are multiple feelings every time you’re there, A sense of belonging, where no matter how different, broken, or mismanaged  a person is, they still know that the very spot will always let them be themselves. Home is where a person feels comfort and safety, where they know that they will be supported and consoled through all the times you’ve been through. A sense of adoration that lingers in the air, making a person feel loved for who they are. The idea that a person knows who they are when they’re at this place, or with this person, makes us realize that this very place is our home. My home is with someone who I’ve known for a while, and even a glance into their brown eyes makes me feel complete. As they always say, home is where the heart lies.” 

You looked around the room to see blank stares and an unusual smile from Mr. Gilloway, but it was relieving to feel the overbearing weight of not knowing yourself being lifted off your shoulders. 

Once class had ended, you heard your name being called by none other than Peter. 

“Was your speech about me?” Peter had a look of desperation and hope, “I feel like home to you?” How’d he listen? You thought, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

“I asked Mr. Gilloway,” Peter had read your mind, “Y/N, I only said I couldn’t bear you because I’m so deeply in love with you, but you never see that. It’s kind of hard to be friendzoned all the time, y’know?” 

The moment you had awaited all along finally came in the least expected way, nor was it how everyone else described it to be. There were no fireworks in the background but instead, it was just as if the world had stopped around you. 

“I love you too, Peter,” you whispered. 

“So is it true?” With a simple nod and a small smile, you said, 

“Yeah, it is about you, Peter.” A soft smile creeps up his face as he pulls you into his arms. It felt right, as if your body was perfectly molded to fit into his embrace. You decided to take the risk and pulled away, placing your hands over his pillowy cheeks, and pulled him towards you. You placed your lips on his, they were soft and smooth, with a hint of vanilla from the chapstick you made him use after seeing how rough they were a few months back. Peter kissed back, trying to empty all the love and adoration he had kept inside of him. 

You couldn’t tell what the future held for you two, but you made a vow, right then and there that you would protect him with your entire heart, help him after his patrol’s and night, and most importantly, keep him in your heart for the rest of your life. 

This was your home, right here with Peter. 

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked this piece, I’ve had a a writer’s block for almost 2 years now, so to write this was a bit of a struggle, but it’s all good! Feel free to send over any requests or criticism. I also have to give an honorary mention to @wazzupmrstark​! Her INCREDIBLE works gave me a bit of a push and inspo to get back to writing, so thank you so so much Kaili! (i’ll stop annoying you guys, byee :) )

[3lc3lc3lc]

JOSHUA TREE

An excerpt from my short story collection NOWHERE FAST, out now.

“so what i’m gonna do is i’m gonna get a moped and i’m gonna ride it around the desert. and i’ll have my shotgun for if i see a rattlesnake. you think i could shoot a rattlesnake from a moped?”

“sure, prolly.”

“i’ll shoot the fuck out of a rattlesnake. fuck a rattlesnake.”

“yea fuck em.”

“anyway, you can visit me if you want.”

“hmmmmm….. maybe.”

“hey can i call you? i can’t type so good. i got fat thumbs. plus i’m on ecstasy.”

Anna was in Los Angeles, where Ray lived, two weeks later on business. The business was a magazine interview with an R&B singer whose manager stopped returning Anna’s phone calls immediately upon her arrival. The business was a free vacation. “Guess where I’m at,” she texted Ray from the hotel. They’d been messaging each other for a month, friends of friends. Ray seemed psychotic, but that was no problem. 

“You should come over and help me pack. I’ve got some soju,” he replied. Ray was moving to Joshua Tree in two days to make sad synthesizer music in the desert. “Oh. One thing I have to tell you. My teeth are all fucked up. I don’t smile in pictures. Thought you should know.”

An inflatable duck the size of a Subaru was drifting across the pool next to Ray’s apartment building on Sunset. The Elliott Smith mural from the one album cover used to be around the corner, he told Anna in the lobby, but they recently turned it into a brunch restaurant. “Oh and I’ve got a present for you.” They took the elevator to his studio, which was carpeted and offered roughly nothing in the way of furniture. The teeth were as advertised, a double row of craggy gray shards that made his mouth look like abstract expressionism. She sat on a cardboard box while Ray poured little cups of soju and retrieved a bag of mushrooms from a drawer. They ate a handful of caps each. “This isn’t your present. Come on.”

She followed him to the back of the apartment building, where three of Ray’s neighbors were smoking around a fire pit. Mary was in her fifties and blessed with the virtue of persistence, as demonstrated by the portable respirator she carted around in her non-smoking hand. Jeff with the blonde ponytail and Dickies had recently come back from Afghanistan. “Jeff’s better at Jeopardy than anyone on earth,” said Ray. “Other than me.” “Thanks, man,” said Jeff. In the corner, a large bearded man was lost in the act of twisting up some sort of balloon animal. “This is Balloonski,” said Ray. “Don’t look yet!” said Balloonski, his hands swooping and squeaking like ridiculous birds. Anna turned the other way and smoked a cigarette. By the time she’d finished, the balloon was in the shape of a man playing the saxophone. “Surprise!” said Ray. She promised to keep it always. “Balloonski,” she said, “you’re going places. The world will know your balloons. You’re headed straight to the top, kid. Did you know I’m a journalist?”

They went back to Ray’s apartment and fucked on the carpet to Elliott Smith, the popcorn ceiling rippling like lava. “Yeah so I think I’m in love with you,” Ray said. “Let’s go to your hotel and see what’s in the mini bar.” Anna swaddled the balloon jazz man in her jacket, their beautiful baby boy. “Sup, chumps?” she found herself barking at the nice people drinking wine in the hotel lobby, for no special reason beside the fact that she was untouchable and would never die.

They got to work on the mini bar, starting with the Wild Turkeys, then the Bombay Sapphires, then the Titos. Ray poured the last couple bottles on the floor and hurled them at the wall. “It ain’t on our dime, baby!” he crowed. “This is on Corporate America’s tab!” She couldn’t be sure if the room charges were, in fact, on Corporate America’s tab, nor if she would continue to have a job when all was said and done, but she could admit the sentiment was rousing. Give the guy ten minutes and suddenly you’re voting him for alderman. Ray called up room service, sprawled on the bed like some sort of Ottoman aristocrat. “Good morning. My wife would like to order steak and eggs please.”

It was May when she arrived in Joshua Tree. Or it was April. In any case, Prince had died and the desert was colder than she had imagined. It was an hour drive from the Palm Springs airport in a cab softly playing the greatest hits of Third Eye Blind, the windmills off the highway waving palely in the dark like great irrelevant gods. She should check out that place, the cab driver offered as some nameless saloon slipped past, if she wanted to meet a nice Marine. That sounded good, Anna said. She could swear the mountains were flashing with faraway wet yellow eyes.

The headlights caught Ray in front of a little house made of corrugated sheet metal that looked to be held together with staples, doing what could generously be described as karate. There were no neighbors to be seen for half a mile. “Darling, we haven’t any food!” Ray greeted her. The closest store was a two hour walk along the side of the highway, and it was closed. “But Loretta left a handle of Seagram’s, so we’ll be straight.” Who this Loretta was supposed to be she hadn’t a clue, but she would take a drink. Inside Ray’s Siamese cat hunted moths around the place, which was surprisingly well appointed, decorated with woven Navajo rugs and rattan furniture and a beaded curtain that clacked when you went from the kitchen to the bedroom. They drank gin and water and Ray told her the stories of his collection of scars, this one from being smashed over the head with a beer bottle, this one from falling through a skylight. By the time the sun was coming up she was drunk enough to ask: “Who’s Loretta?”

“Oh. Loretta’s my roommate.”

“There’s only one room.”

“We trade off. Anyway she’s not here right now.”

“Well where is she?”

“Couldn’t really tell you.”

Ray went and got the gin, refilled both their glasses to the top, and put on a movie about a dog who gets terribly abused by all numbers of people. Within twenty minutes he was sobbing uncontrollably, not even trying to be quiet about it. That was her favorite thing about Ray, probably. He cried at all the dog movies.

In the daytime Ray would hunch shirtless over his keyboard, chainsmoking spliffs and endlessly writing the same wordless song. Anna lay on a towel in the baked dirt of the yard, mindlessly scrolling through apps on her phone and seeing white when she stood up. Sometimes she watched Ray work, dragging colorful little chunks of minutiae back and forth across his computer screen and fiddling with knobs doing who knows what, the room quiet but for the bass in his headphones. This kind of boredom she had always liked, the kind that reminded her of sinking into decrepit couches to watch boys shoot at Nazis or whatever with their Playstation controllers. The wonderful kind of dullness that ferried you safely from one hour to the next. In any case, she’d lost her job. What else was there to do. She had two weeks left in the desert.

They were out front watching for jackrabbits when a bandaid-colored Volvo scraped up on wings of dust. A lady got out. She looked to be in her mid-sixties, with long gray hair and a tired face, dressed in the linens of some kind of cult, maybe. And she’d brought luggage. “I stopped at the Walmart and got hamburgers and beer,” she said, hauling out shopping bags from the back seat. 

“Hi mom,” Ray said. 

Ray’s mother turned to Anna. “Who’s this? Are you going to help me with the groceries?”

“Sorry... Ray didn’t tell me, uh...”

“You may call me Loretta. Here.” She handed Anna a case of Miller Lite. Anna carried it inside, shoving the underwear she’d left on the floor in her backpack before coming back for the next one. She caught Ray’s eye as he grabbed a box of frozen beef patties. “It’s cool,” he said. “We’ll sleep in the living room.” He turned to Loretta. “The drive was okay?”

“Left Tucson at four this morning,” Loretta said. “I feel like hell. Where did I put my…..?” She rummaged around in the glove compartment, retrieved five or six pill bottles, and went inside. Ray followed.

The sky was going pink and orange as Loretta unpacked her things and Ray heated up the charcoal grill. Anna made slow figure eights around the yard, listening to lizards scuttle around in the rocks. There were a few things she knew about Ray’s mother. She knew Loretta had been married five times. She knew Loretta had been a teacher, and that she wasn’t one anymore. She knew Ray hadn’t seen his mother in ten years, or at least that’s what he’d said, that Loretta’s boyfriend wouldn’t let him set foot in their house.

Loretta appeared in the doorway, her white linens dyed peach with twilight. “Would you like to play a game of Clue?” she asked Anna. They went inside and Loretta set the game board out on the floor, shuffling up the billiard rooms and candlesticks and slipping three cards into the little case file envelope. “I’m always Mrs. Peacock,” Loretta said. “Hope that’s not a problem.” They drank beer and waited for Ray to come and be the third player, Loretta’s left eye twitching gently as the sun went down.

“Are you Ray’s girlfriend?” Loretta asked.

“Sort of,” said Anna. “I don’t know. Something like that.”

“For the record,” said Loretta, “you shouldn’t trust half of what he tells you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I know Ray, that’s all. Known him all his life.” 

Ray walked inside with a tray of burgers. “You’re Professor Plum,” Loretta said, handing him the purple pawn. She turned her beer upside down, crumpled up the can and rolled the dice.

Loretta was holding Anna’s hair while she hugged the toilet, hurling. “Hey, we’ve all been there, hun,” Loretta said. “Mushrooms will do that sometimes.” Ray had brought his stash to the desert. It wasn’t sitting right. Anna choked out the rest, flushed, and staggered to her feet, sweating and mortified. “I should probably lie down for a minute,” she told Loretta, weaving her way to the living room. “Why don’t you take the bed tonight,” Loretta said, digging one hand in her giant purse. “I’ll send Ray in to join you. It’s no problem.” Anna slurred a thanks and goodnight and stumbled through the beaded curtain to the bedroom, wondering how long Ray’d been gone on his endless cigarette break. Or had he only stepped out five minutes ago? It was hard to be sure at the moment, considering that everywhere she looked, her surroundings kept turning to hamburger meat. She closed her eyes and tried to will away the kaleidoscope of tentacles churning inside her eyelids. When she woke up, Anna could hear Ray and Loretta’s voices softly from the other side of the curtain. The desert was dark still, a choir of crickets like distant static.

“I don’t have five hundred dollars, Ray. If I did, I’d give it to you. But I don’t.”

“Right. You’ve just got enough to make sure Gary can sit on his fat ass all day watching Matlock. But your only son can go fuck himself. Got it.”

“Let’s leave Gary out of it.”

“I would’ve liked to leave Gary out of it the day he broke my nose and kicked me out of the house, but I suppose we can’t have it all, can we.”

“Ray…... It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, being a mother sounds pretty fucking complicated. It’s not for everyone, I guess.”

Loretta was quiet for a minute.

“You know I don’t feel good about how everything played out. If I could do things differently…”

“I was thirteen years old living on the street because you chose fucking Gary over me, mom. I’ll say you could’ve done things differently. Jesus Christ.”

“That’s why I’m here every weekend, isn’t it? To see if we can’t be friends again?”

“You barely qualify as my mother, and you’re certainly not my friend. But I will take some fucking money, if Gary can manage to spare it from his Hot Pocket fund.” Anna heard shuffling and the crunch of cans being tossed in the trash. “And by the way, those pills are making you crazy. You shouldn’t be mixing all that shit at once. Your shrink ought to be in fucking prison. Anyway. Sleep well.” Anna lay very still with her eyes shut as Ray jangled through the beaded curtain and collapsed beside her in the dark, hitting the bed with a thud like he’d dropped from the sky.

In the morning Loretta was gone, and so was her car. On the kitchen counter were two notes, one labeled ANNA, the other MY SON RAY. Anna studied Ray’s face as he read, but it didn’t change, though he did slip a handful of twenties that had been tucked inside the letter into his pocket. Anna opened hers. In bold looping cursive it said, “Dear Anna, it was nice to meet you. He’ll take advantage of your weakness if you let him. Take care of yourself. Loretta.” Ray finished reading, folded the letter back up, and walked shirtless into the desert. He didn’t ask what her note said, and she didn’t either.

She remembered she had saved Loretta’s phone number a year later, after everything—after Ray had pawned most of her belongings and disappeared to Seoul with his secret girlfriend, that is, but before the whole Korean prison incident—and decided to ask. “What did you mean back in Joshua Tree, when you said he’d take advantage of my weakness?” she typed slowly. “How did you know?” She waited hours and hours until finally her phone buzzed. “I would never say that about my son,” read the text from Loretta. “What do you want from me?”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part I

They did Ahkmenrah so dirty in the NATM movies, so I’m indulging. I’m not sure if this piece is going to work as a female reader-insert, but I am going to try that first. If you think it would be better with an OFC, let me know.

  Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

   Warnings: None for now, but you can bet there will be smut; also, Ahk is a solid 20 years of age to be certain to avoid any squick factor. Also, if you’d like to be tagged, let me know : )

Part I

On the night you first officially met, you weren’t sure whether it was his beauty or his sadness that overwhelmed you. Ahkmenrah was sitting in his exhibit alone, gazing at the hieroglyphs that adorned the walls. His mouth was set in a serious line, which only served to accentuate his sharp jawline. His eyes, a polychromatic swirl of blue and green, were trained on the stories, his stories. The air was filled with such a level of concentration that it felt wrong to disturb this once-king.

   Larry whispered, “About a year ago, we figured out that he wasn’t an evil, cursed thing. It is his tablet, after all, that brings everything to life.”

   “He’s not wax or stone, though, so, he reanimates?” you ask hesitantly, even though you already know the answer. It’s just that you can hardly believe in its morbidity—cheating death always has a price.

   “Every night.”

   Your mind whirled. Every night, this former king came to life, and every morning, he returned to the nothingness of death. A price—there’s always a price.

   “Does he remember things, like the new things that happen at night? Or is he stuck living only with the memories of his past?”

   Larry chuckled, “Do you want to ask him all these things yourself?”

You nod your head. Of all the exhibits Larry had introduced you to over the last month, he saved Ahkmenrah for last because he knew that the ancient pharaoh was the reason you became an anthropologist. Not, Ahkmenrah in particular, but the culture of ancient Egypt. Your grandmother used to tell you stories about the pyramids and first introduced you to the riches of this ancient, civilized land. Their mythology fascinated you, from childhood until now, and it was the very last step of your doctoral pursuit. Your dissertation was about the parallels between the monotheistic cult of Akhenaten and the foundational principles of early Christianity. Although Ahkmenrah was a pharaoh of the Middle Kingdom, you were certain that the path for monotheism had been laid as the pharaohs navigated the world, acquiring more wealth and power. Science advanced. The miracles of the gods were explained. And one god, across cultures, emerged.

   And then you got stuck. You needed a lead and Rebecca, Larry’s girlfriend and your aunt, cajoled Larry into helping. She knew you would make any sacrifice to prove your research and keeping the secret of the museum seemed like a small price to you. So, Larry tested your character by introducing you to a new exhibit each night, carefully measuring your reaction, and then making sure nothing wound up in the tabloids the following day.

   While it was shocking, you had already spent so much time living within the past, it almost felt like coming home. The knowledge each reanimation possessed gave you hope that Ahkmenrah could provide you with the information that would cement your doctoral candidacy.

   Larry gently took your elbow and pushed you forward. Your slight stumble echoed into Ahkmenrah’s chamber, and he slowly turned toward the noise, his statues shifting, awaiting the young king’s word.

   “Son of Ra,” you spoke as you lowered your head in a bow until you closed the distance between the two of you, then you dropped to your knees, extended your arms in a full bow, and touched your lips to the stone floor at his feet.

   You didn’t move, even as you heard Larry chuckle from behind you.

   “Larry, guardian of Brooklyn, leave us,” Ahkmenrah spoke in a commanding tone that immediately silenced Larry and you listened as his footsteps shuffled quickly away.

   “Rise.”

   You rescinded your arms but rose only into a kneel, keeping your head bowed.

   Ahkmenrah sighed, an utterly sad, small noise of nostalgia.

   “You are familiar with the customs of my people, and you greatly honor me; however, you and I both know there is no longer a need for such a display of reverence. My time has long, long passed.”

   The despondency in his words called to you. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, his large eyes trained on your face, searching it as you looked at one another.

   Ahkmenrah offered you his hand, and you hesitated in a comical moment of twitching forward to accept it, but holding back, the customs of the ancients reverberating through your mind.

   Ahkmenrah chuckled, and you huffed out a laugh, too. Your 21st century self won out, and also your insatiable curiosity to know if he felt more like skin or a tanned hide--you know, how a several thousand years old mummified corpse might feel.

   As your hands connected, you immediately knew it was not the latter; his hand was smooth and warm, your fingers glided across his palm to grasp his wrist as he grasped yours and pulled you up from your position on the floor. Neither of you let go immediately, until a slight blush colored both of your cheeks. You dropped his hand and apologized, but he cut you off.

   “I’ve had so few visitors,” Ahkmenrah began. “It’s just nice to remember what a person’s touch is like. I apologize for . . . I believe the correct term might be . . . lingering?”

   You smiled at his furrowed brow and at his struggle to articulate himself. English, after all, wasn’t exactly his first language.

   “You speak beautifully, your majesty.”

   “Thank you; I was on display at Cambridge for a number of years, but please, call me Ahkmenrah,” he stated, tilting his head just slightly as it occurred to him he didn’t know your name. “And what shall I call you?”

   “Y/N.”

   He smiled and said, “A lovely name.”

   You took a deep breath, gradually becoming more relaxed in his presence. Nothing prepared you for your meeting with this young man, well, sort of young man. As Larry tested you by moving through exhibit after exhibit, you thought you would be able to handle the one thing you were really here for. Most of the exhibits, while they did add a depth of feeling, were like talking to living, very interactive history books.

   Except now, face to face, this creature in front of you was clearly no text book. He radiated warmth and power; his eyes were so alive it made you feel like you were the one who was a reanimated corpse. Never had you seen such depth in a person’s gaze; it was unnerving, but also it was like a key, turning a lock to something deep inside of you that you didn’t know existed.

   It also didn’t hurt that he was beautiful. Because of his age at his death, he still possessed a softness around his features that made you want to define him as cute, but his presence elevated him to handsome. A flicker of jealousy coursed through you at the thought of him choosing a queen from a line of many, many suitors. And then there would be the matter of his secondary queens, and you were sure he would have no shortage of choices there, either.  

   You shook your head, wondering why in the fuck your mind chose to venture down that path. You shouldn’t be thinking about this barely-adult king and his sex life; it’s not like you were going to go that far in your research . . . he may not even have functioning parts, hell, he may not even have any of his organs—

   “I believe the expression is, ‘Penny for your thoughts?’” Ahkmenrah asks, startling a blush out of you.

   You choke out an awkward laugh, run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath.

   “This is just so surreal. I’m not sure how much you know about me or my work, but I guess I should just start at the beginning. I guess the easiest way to explain would be to use a reference. So, there’s a fun little game that people sometimes play and during it, you divulge who you would invite to a dinner party if you could have your choice of any person, living or dead.”

   Ahkmenrah watched you intently, listening.

   “While Akhenaten was always first on my list—18th dynasty, awhile after you, I always wanted to meet a ruler from the Middle Kingdom, one of the most glorious periods of rule in Egypt. And, well, here you are. It’s like, almost better than Cleopatra.”

   Ahkmenrah chuckled, “I can assure you that the tales of my country will be far better than what her’s would be. From what I’ve heard, she brought much scandal because of her dalliances with foreigners,” he said, his face conveying his clear disapproval.  

   “She brought the end of your Egypt.”

   “Yes. It’s, what was the word you used? Surreal! It’s quite surreal to know the fate of one’s kingdom. I often think about what I might’ve done differently had I known what I know now.”

   “They do say hindsight is 20/20.”

   “As in, the past always looks clearer from the present?” Ahkmenrah questioned.

   “Exactly.”

   You had hoped he would be smart, and in your small exchange, it became clear that he was. While his intelligence excited you, it was the genuineness of his smile that took your breath away. For a moment, you were reminded of Nick Carraway’s description of Jay Gatsby’s smile. And just like Nick, you were immediately drawn into it, drowning with a need to just know the bearer of that warmth with a greater intimacy.

   “You’re doing it again,” Ahkmenrah said through his smile, startling you out of your thoughts.

   You shook your head, embarrassed yet again.

   “I was thinking about something I read in a book once.”

   Ahkmenrah spoke with excitement, “Larry told me you preferred books to people because you didn’t have many friends in your youth. I’d like to show you something.”

   “I’d like to show Larry something right about now,” you mumbled as you followed the swishing of Ahkmenrah’s golden cape. He disappeared into a smaller nook between the walls of his exhibit and returned with a stack of ancient paper.

   “The tablet seems to also restore anything that is organic,” Ahkmenrah explained, showing you the pieces of papyrus that were covered in hieroglyphs. “This is the history of my family as told through our own voices . . . I think you would call it a diary?”

   You must have looked like an idiot, your mouth agape, your eyes darting between the paper in Ahkmenrah’s hands and his dancing eyes.    

   You started to speak, stopped, stuttered, and started again.

   “This is a first-hand account of the life of ancient Egyptian royals?”

   “Well, not exactly. My father was very thorough in his tracking of the members of our lineage and decided to include everyone’s stories—cousins of cousins, people who worked the fields or the rivers. I believe you will find there is much to learn from these pages.”

   Your voice cracked a little as you thanked Ahkmenrah for this honor, but before he held the pages out to you his face turned serious.

   “I’m sorry, Y/N, but you will only be able to read them while at the museum. Once dawn comes, they turn to dust, and if too much is scattered, I fear they will no longer reform.”

   “Of course! I’ll only read them right here.”

   “So, this means that you will be returning?”

   “Yes! My god, Ahkmenrah. You have no idea what this means to me.”

   Ahkmenrah smiled, the sadness leaving his eyes entirely for the first time that evening as he watched you carefully examine the pages of his ancient life.

[raywritesthings]

In the Dead of Night 4/9

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Ra’s al Ghul, Nyssa al Ghul, John Diggle, Tommy Merlyn, Malcolm Merlyn, Thea Queen, Moira Queen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (Eventual) Summary: Oliver Queen returns to Starling City after five years away, three years after Sara Lance was found and rescued by her mother. More troubling to him is Laurel’s abrupt and unexplained absence from the city for the same length of time that her sister’s been home. Three years into the past, Dinah Lance makes a terrible choice. *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN (links to both accounts are in bio)*

Present day

Oliver was speechless. What he had just heard...it seemed unthinkable.

Yet the evidence of its truth stood in front of him. Sara was keeping several feet out of reach, and whether that was a conscious decision or not, it was a wise one.

“Your mother traded Laurel to a cult of murderers in the Himalayas,” he repeated, for his own benefit as much as hers, “and you just stood there?”

“Whatever you want to say to me about it or call me has already gone through my head, Oliver. I know it was wrong.”

“Then why haven’t you confessed to the authorities? Your father?” He was barely remembering to check his volume, and it was only his desire to have all the facts that had him doing so.

“Because the League is too powerful for any of them. Once mom made the deal, Ra’s promised to kill our whole family and Starling City itself if we went back on it. But that hasn’t kept me from feeling guilty, okay?” She gestured to herself. “It’s hard enough not to spend the whole day crying. I wish I had died on that boat, if it had stopped all of this from happening.”

He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to reign in both his temper and his panic. Laurel was trapped with a powerful army of killers. Forced to become one herself. Was she even still alive? How did he find her?

“You said I needed to be able to best the Dark Archer to have a chance at getting Laurel back. Why?”

“He’s with the League. I don’t know how, but that’s their uniform he was wearing on the news. If you can’t beat him, we have no chance.”

He stared down at his battered and bruised body and felt more worthless than ever. The duel with the Dark Archer would set him back weeks in physical recovery. And even if he got back to where he’d been, that still wouldn’t be enough.

So he had to get even better. There was no other option. No one else knew where to look for Laurel or would be willing to do whatever it took to right this wrong. Oliver could not afford to give up.

This was his fault. If not for his own betrayal, Sara and her mother would never have been in the position to do this to Laurel.

But that they had at all...he couldn’t fathom it.

“Where is Nanda Parbat?”

Sara shook her head. “We only get one shot at this if we’re lucky, Ollie. I won’t tell you until you’re ready.”

“There’s no we, Sara.” His hand was clenched in a fist without him even realizing it.

“She’s my sister—”

“You let her be traded for your own freedom!”

They both went totally silent the moment after. Footsteps could be heard out in the corridor. Sara hurried to the connected bathroom, leaving the light off and pulling the door mostly closed.

A nurse stuck her head in his room. “Everything alright, Mr. Queen?”

He had to force his voice into a more friendly tone. “Yeah. I just, uh, had a bad dream.”

She nodded. “Okay, well if you need anything, don’t hesitate to hit the call button.”

“Thank you.”

She left, and the smile instantly dropped from his face. After a few minutes, Sara crept out of the bathroom.

“I know what I did, Oliver,” she hissed. “I also know I haven’t been able to eat a full meal or sleep more than a couple hours a night since. What my mother did, it wasn’t giving me freedom.” What he could make out of her expression in the dark looked haunted. “If Laurel wants to kill me when we get there, I’m fine with that. But I cannot just keep sitting here.”

Oliver remained silent. He wasn’t prepared to promise anything right now.

Sara moved back to the door of his room, peering out the window to check for a clear opening.

“You can’t tell my father. If he knows, he’ll want to go himself. And they’d kill him.”

On that at least, they could agree. He nodded once, and Sara turned and slipped out the door.

Oliver relaxed back against his pillows, but he got no more sleep that night. In the morning, he discharged himself and called a cab to take him home, much to the surprise of his family when he arrived.

He couldn’t put on an act for them right now, so he excused himself to his room. Once there, he turned on his computer. Where could he get started? His injuries would need another couple of days before he could start pushing himself to train back up, but was there anything he could find out about the League on his own?

Oliver reached into his wallet and took out Laurel’s picture. His thumb smoothed down the folding edges as he laid it out on the desk. No matter how slim a chance, he couldn’t give up. Not on her.

Two hours into a fruitless search, Digg knocked on and opened his door.

“Your mother called to say you’d come home. Should have known you wouldn’t even take a day.” When he said nothing, John frowned and shut the door. “Oliver, what is it?”

He looked up. “Sara visited me after hours. She told me the truth about how her mother found her and brought her home. And it’s why Laurel is missing.”

He repeated everything Sara had told him, trying to keep his emotions in check as he did so.

“I know I’m partly responsible. Because of the way I treated people before the island, it gave Mrs. Lance the excuse to choose one of her daughters over the other.” Oliver shook his head. “I just can’t see how someone could make that choice.” Even when Ivo had had a gun to Shado and Sara’s heads, he hadn’t been able to, only acting on instinct to try and stop it when the man had taken aim.

If Dinah Lance were still in Starling, he would be considering a visit to ask her how she’d made that choice. But a trip to Central was out of the question given his current condition, and it would only serve as a distraction to what his goal needed to be: getting Laurel back. If that were even possible.

Were it not, Dinah Lance would be receiving more than a visit.

John had his arms crossed. “Oliver, are you sure any of this actually happened and it wasn’t just some dream you had in the middle of the night?”

Oliver gave him a look. “I know it was real, Diggle.”

“But a secret group of killers that lives in the mountains and carries out hits with medieval weaponry? How do we know any of this is real?”

“Sara says the Dark Archer is one of them. He was wearing their uniform.”

“Then what’s he doing here?”

Oliver shrugged. “The man who wrote my father’s list hired him to kill me. He didn’t succeed, but no one knows that yet. I’m going to use that to my advantage so I can train uninterrupted. I have to be better than I was that night.” He frowned as he added, “Sara won’t give me the location of the League until I am.”

“Oliver, even if the Dark Archer is one of them, going to this Nanda Parbat doesn’t seem to be part of your father’s mission. Maybe you should be keeping your focus on that.”

“I can’t now that I know the truth, John. This happened because I took Sara on the Gambit. Because I betrayed Laurel first. How can I hope to right my father’s wrongs if I refuse to right my own?”

His eyes fell again to Laurel’s picture. For five years, the promise he had made himself to reunite with her and make up for his sins had kept him going through torture, through Hell itself. He would fight a thousand leagues to fulfill that promise. It was what she deserved.

John considered all that for a time. “Let me see what I can find out from my contacts about this League. We’re gonna need all the information we can get.”

That night, they all received news of a different kind; Walter’s things had been discovered abandoned in an elevator at Queen Consolidated, and he couldn’t be reached. Without any sort of explanation or notice from an outside party, it was hard for him to know how to feel. Oliver had always liked his father’s old friend, but he had only just begun to start thinking of him as part of the family. Thea was far more shaken by contrast, and their mother was inconsolable.

“Maybe it’s the same people that made Laurel disappear,” Thea mused on the couch late one night. Her eyes were fixed on the fireplace, and the flames reflected brightly in her wet eyes. “Maybe they’re just coming for each of us one by one.”

“I’m sure they’re not related, Speedy. And it’s gonna be fine.” He reached over to guide her to rest on his good shoulder. Things would be fine once he was ready to act on the information he did have. He would make things right again with their home.

Oliver began training as soon as he was able. It was important not just for Laurel’s sake, but the city’s as well. Crime and exploitation had not stopped just because the Hood was on medical leave. Just over six weeks after his fight with the Dark Archer, a story came out about a former firefighter who had survived a terrible blaze five years ago and decided to exact revenge on the members of his squadron he’d felt had left him for dead. After attacking them one by one, he had exposed himself when going after the Fire Chief and burning the both of them together. Reading about it in the paper the next morning had Oliver wishing he had some advance warning on looming threats in Starling. The list, he could admit thanks to Diggle’s prodding, was only a partial indicator of the ails his city was plagued with.

He had trained harder and longer than ever before, even on the island, and he put it to the test going up against Diggle’s old army commander and a group of his men who had turned criminal. For a return of the Hood, it was a triumphant one; he cut through the group without a scratch on him.

John was disappointed in his old commanding officer, but Oliver watched him push it aside in the base that night as he walked up to him with a file. “Heard back from my contact at the CIA. She says the League has been something on their radar for a while now, but they don’t have much. The name Ra’s al Ghul checks out, though. And she said thanks for the tip about the uniforms.”

Oliver nodded once.

“But they don’t have the location for this Nanda Parbat, Oliver.”

He drew in a breath. “Then it’s time to call Sara. Time for her to make good.”

He was ready. He had to be.

---

Three years ago

Laurel didn’t remember drifting off into exhaustion. The next thing she knew, there was a loud knocking on the door and she sat up, rubbing at the soreness in her freezing limbs from having spent however many hours on the floor. She stood just as the door was unlocked and pushed open.

A masked and hooded woman came in and thrust a bundle of black cloth in her direction. It was the same as she and all the others were wearing.

“You will change and be brought before Ra’s.”

“What if I don’t want to see him?”

“Disobedience is not tolerated in the League. You will serve the will of the Demon Head or die.”

And if she died, so did Starling City. Laurel accepted the bundle numbly and was left alone. She struggled into the clothes, trying to figure out where the various fastenings came together, and she couldn’t find the face covering. Her guide returned, and Laurel had to hope she was presentable enough as she was led back through the labyrinth of tunnels to the main chamber.

Ra’s stood on the dais, and when Laurel was brought forward, her guide pushed on her shoulders until she was forced to kneel. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid snapping at the other woman not to touch her.

“Dinah Laurel Lance. You carry the name of a mother who abandoned you. That mother matters to you no longer. From this day forward, your allegiance is to the League and to me, Ra’s al Ghul.”

There was a pause, and she wondered if she was expected to say anything. But he continued on eventually.

“I do not desire your blind trust in my rule. That is why each new member of the League of Assassins is brought to witness a demonstration of my power.” He nodded to the side, and four League members came forward carrying a large cinder block between them.

Their leader got into position as if to do push-ups, and the cinder blocks were laid one by one on his back. His arms and legs remained locked in place, not even shaking under the added strain.

“Two more.”

These blocks were placed near his feet and his hands. Laurel watched as he lifted a foot as well as his opposite hand off the ground, remaining in perfect balance. The blocks were slid underneath. Then Ra’s drew in a breath before bringing his foot and hand down onto each of them, cracking the blocks in two.

The League members cleared away the debris as Ra’s leveraged himself back up and paced away from the mess he’d caused. Laurel had to wonder if he was walking some pain off, and returned to biting her cheek to hold in a laugh. She was delirious or insane. That man had split a block of cinder with his own toes and she’d thought of laughing?

“Every member of the League is reborn when they join. Part of that process is in receiving a new name. I planned to call your sister Taer Al Sahfer. Yellow bird in your native tongue,” he said as he paced before her.

“But you require a different name. Cast out, abandoned by your own blood. Serving me in the place of another. A cheerless bird in a gilded cage.” He stopped and pronounced, “Taer Al Aswad. The black bird.”

Laurel didn’t even know if she could say that without hearing it another twenty times first.

“You will begin your training. Nyssa will lead your instruction.”

They were starting already? 

Nyssa stepped forward. “Father, Al Owal is—”

“Al Owal is not the one who brought an outsider to Nanda Parbat for healing. You made the girl your responsibility, and her replacement shall be yours as well. Do not question my decisions.”

Nyssa lowered her head. “If it is your will, Ra’s, I will see it done.”

Laurel rose when Ra’s indicated she should do so, and Nyssa left the chamber at a quick march she was forced to follow if she didn’t wish to get lost in the cavernous fortress.

They entered a room with an open floor and a rack of weapons lining either side wall.

“Select a weapon.” Nyssa gestured to one of the racks. “You will learn to master all of them, but to begin we must see where your proficiencies lie. And your deficiencies.”

Laurel looked down the row of swords, knives, bows and arrows, until she spotted a staff. That one seemed the least lethal, so she picked it up.

“Okay, so what now — hey!” Laurel had barely turned around when Nyssa struck her arm with her own staff, and she didn’t stop there. She backed away and was pursued by the other woman until she found herself up against a wall. Laurel only just managed to get her staff up between them to block a swing aimed for her head.

“What the hell?”

“There is no waiting to begin,” her teacher stated. She barely seemed out of breath. This was going to suck.

Laurel found it hard to sleep that night from the red welts that covered her arms, legs, and torso. The pain was what finally convinced her; this was real. She was really expected to join these people and carry out whatever Ra’s al Ghul asked of her.

This wasn’t going to be some easy training course. If she wanted to avoid additional pain, she was going to have to work fast.

Even with her newfound motivation, Laurel did not escape her training unharmed. Every day seemed to bring with it new cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Her teachers were relentless, as she learned to battle with first Nyssa and then multiple assailants. When she suffered a broken wrist at the hands of Al Owal, she was expected to keep fighting until she had disarmed him. Only then was she allowed to have it wrapped.

She was given lessons in stealth, languages, and poisoning among other skills. It made cramming for law school seem like a breeze, but Laurel was eager to avoid any punishment for slacking and so she learned them all.

One evening, hours into a session of sparring with knives, Laurel finally managed to disarm Nyssa. She kept her weapons trained on the other woman, breathing hard but refusing to drop her guard. She knew her teacher would only use that for an opening.

Nyssa smirked, one of the first times she had shown anything like approval. “Good. I will tell my father you are ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“The final test.”

The next morning, Laurel was woken early and brought to the main chamber. Other members of the League stood around the edges of the room, and a man was waiting in the center.

“Taer al Aswad. Alriyh. You have both completed your training,” Ra’s stated as he stood between them. “Now you must prove yourselves to me. Only one of you will leave this room alive to join my service, once you have bested the other in mortal combat.”

She looked sharply to Nyssa, but the other woman only stared back solemnly.

“You will each choose a weapon and begin.”

Ra’s walked back to the dais. Laurel’s heart was racing as she went to the rack. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alriyh grab a sword.

She didn’t want to kill him. She didn’t even know the man, but that didn’t make the idea of taking his life any easier. But if she let herself be killed, would that count as her breaking the deal with Ra’s? What would happen to her city?

Alriyh turned and swung at her before her hand had fully closed on the handle of her own sword. Laurel was immediately forced on the defensive, the clash of their swords loud in her ears. A nick to the back of her right thigh produced a growl in the back of her throat, and she started to push back against his advances.

His attacks were swift and done in quick succession of each other, giving credence to his name — The Wind — but his swings tended to go wide whenever she dodged him instead of blocking and he was forced to follow all the way through. Laurel recalled a session with Nyssa when her teacher had instructed her to only dodge and refrain from blocking, and Laurel put it to use in the moment.

She ducked under his arm and sliced at his left side. Alriyh staggered with an agonized yell, but when she hesitated he renewed his attack. His eyes were wild and crazed, and Laurel knew without doubt he would kill her given the first chance—

There was an opening again, and she saw it. In the next instant, she’d taken it, her blade sliding true through the underside of his rib-cage. Alriyh cried out but fell silent as he hit the floor. Laurel stood over him, breathing heavily and unable to take her eyes off the body.

There was no cheering or clapping, and for that she was grateful. She wouldn’t have been able to stomach that sort of response.

Ra’s stepped off the dais and walked down to her.

“Well done, Taer al Aswad. I am satisfied to know I was delivered a fine assassin.”

Like any time she was reminded of her mother and the bargain she had made to leave Laurel here in Sara’s place, Laurel felt her blood run cold. To this day, she could not think of the woman without hearing her own screams in her ears.

“It is time for you to begin carrying out the League’s mission for the world. We are assassins, not out of enjoyment of the kill but to prevent more killing and destruction. Those we target are truly evil, and would throw our world into chaos. By removing them, we bring humanity all the closer to peace.”

Laurel stared straight ahead. She could not meet his eyes, because she knew if she did Ra’s would see just how little she actually believed his words.

“You will leave in three days’ time. Nyssa will accompany you.” He dismissed her, and Laurel spent the night in her room pacing and thinking about what she would soon have to do.

The League member could be considered an act of self-defense, but to plan and commit an assassination of someone who posed no threat to her? Her stomach churned at the thought.

---

Present day

Things had been feeling pretty bleak the last few months, ever since the news about Laurel having actually been missing had broken. Now with Walter gone, Tommy was starting to wonder if this city had a one-in, one-out policy.

He felt tremendously guilty he hadn’t realized the truth about Laurel’s disappearance. In hindsight, it seemed so obvious. She would have never just up and left the city or her father like that. Maybe he’d just been too busy chasing false leads to Hong Kong for Oliver to notice what had happened right under his nose. The morbid side to him couldn’t help thinking it was far too late now. It wasn’t fair. He’d spent the last five years mourning his one best friend, and now that Oliver was back Tommy was mourning the other.

On top of that, everything with Walter was throwing the Queens back into their own period of grief. He decided to stop by the manor one afternoon to check on them and was let in by Raisa. Thea was coming down the main stairs.

“You picked a great time.”

“Oh?”

“Ollie and mom are getting into things again. We only just got her to start leaving the house, and now he’s upsetting her.” She grabbed her coat from the front closet. “So, I’m going out with friends.”

“Which friends?”

“Nice try.”

She slipped out the door, and Tommy stood in the front hall, torn between going after her or investigating the argument that had caused her exit. In the end, he knew Thea would rebuff his company at the moment, so he headed further into the house.

He found Oliver and Mrs. Queen in the sitting room. Mr. Diggle was standing against the wall and watching the two as they argued.

“I just don’t like the idea of you going away, and at a time like this.”

“I wouldn’t be going away, mom. Just a few days.”

“Well, I’ve heard that before, and we all know how that turned out.”

“Digg would be with me, and planes are supposed to be safer than yachts anyway.”

Tommy chose to make his presence known at that point. “Who’s taking a plane?”

Mrs. Queen looked up. “No one, if I have anything to say about it.” She sighed as she rose from the couch and walked up to him. “See if you can’t put some sense into my son’s head, would you, Tommy? Apparently my feelings on the matter hold little sway.”

She continued out of the room and up the stairs. Tommy watched her go, then turned back to his friend. “What was that about?”

Oliver had stood as well and came to join him. “I asked if I could borrow one of the private planes for a few days.”

“Well, you gotta admit your mom has some reason to be worried about you heading out so soon.”

Oliver grimaced. “I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but—”

“But what? Why the trip?”

His friend frowned and looked away towards Mr. Diggle. “I just need some time away. After Walter disappearing and my accident, it’s all a little much.”

Tommy paused. He hadn’t thought much about how Oliver might be processing everything that had gone on since he’d come home. He’d been on that island by himself for five years; all of them and their problems might be a little overwhelming.

“You really need to do this?”

“Yes.” Oliver’s gaze had almost too much weight to it for this kind of question. Maybe he really did need to get away.

“Okay.” Tommy clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “Then let’s not worry your mom about it. We’ll take one of my dad’s planes.”

“You would do that?”

“Well, I’ll try. There’s every chance he says no. This is my dad we’re talking about.”

He drove them back into the city and breezed past the front desk at Merlyn Global. Fortunately, his father was in his office when they arrived, and he looked up at their approach with something that didn’t look like annoyance for once.

“Tommy, Oliver. This is a surprise.”

“Hey, dad. Kind of a long shot, but do you think we could borrow a plane? Just Ollie, me, and his bodyguard. No girls, no crazy mid-air parties, I promise.”

His father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tommy, despite what you might think, Merlyn Global does not have unlimited resources. I really can’t afford to just let you fly off to who knows where anytime you feel like it.”

“It was my idea, Mr. Merlyn,” Oliver said, stepping forward. “With everything that’s been happening, I guess I’m still just a little used to being alone. I kind of hoped that taking a trip would help me clear my head.”

“Yeah, commune with nature,” Tommy added. Oliver cut him a look, and he stared back unapologetically. He was going out on a limb here, and he was perfectly entitled to poke a little fun while he did so.

“And where would you two be going?”

It occurred to Tommy that he’d totally forgotten to ask just as Oliver opened his mouth. “The Himalayas. I thought we might get some hiking in.”

The Himalayas. He’d signed up for hiking the Himalayas. Was he crazy? No, better question, was Oliver?

His father paused, and for once Tommy prayed that he would rain on the parade. “The Himalayas.” He studied Oliver for a few uncomfortable moments. “Yes, they’re a good place to go for anyone looking to...find themselves. Or so I’ve heard,” his father added, circling back around his desk to the phone. “I’ll schedule a plane. Though I wonder how you’ll get Tommy up the mountain. You might have to carry him down.”

“That’s very funny, dad.”

“I’m sure we’ll make it work,” Oliver replied. “Thank you, Mr. Merlyn.”

“Of course. Anything I can do to help your family at this time.”

Tommy waited until they’d gotten into the elevator and the doors had shut to make his thoughts known. “The Himalayas? Seriously, Ollie?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a mountain range, there’s definitely no cell service, it’s February.”

Oliver glanced at him. “You don’t have to come.”

“I think I do. It’s kind of my family’s plane,” he reminded him. “And you’re my best friend. So I guess we’re doing this.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” When he looked over, Oliver was smiling at him. “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

“Sure it will.”

They were scheduled to leave at the end of the week, so Tommy got packing. He didn’t know what all Oliver had planned, but he dug out the closest thing to hiking boots he could find and hoped for the best.

The morning of the trip, Oliver swung by with Mr. Diggle to drive out to the airport. His friend seemed oddly quiet for someone about to head out on vacation, and his mood only seemed to worsen as they pulled in to find somebody already waiting at the tarmac.

“Is that…?”

“Wait here,” Oliver said as he undid his seatbelt. “I’ll talk to her.”

He got out of the car and walked over to Sara Lance where she stood with a rucksack slung over one shoulder. Tommy leaned forward to poke his head up front.

“How did she know we were gonna be here?”

“That’s not really my place to say, Mr. Merlyn,” Mr. Diggle answered.

As he watched the two, it seemed whatever conversation they were having was growing heated. Tommy got out of the car.

“I told you to just send me directions.”

“And I told you you’re never gonna find this place on your own. Face it, Oliver, you need me.”

“Sara!” Tommy called. “Hi. Thought we told dad no girls,” he added in a mutter to Oliver as he drew up to his side.

“I just told the pilot to keep it on the quiet,” Sara said. “He seemed to find that pretty believable.”

Tommy chuckled, then stopped when no one else joined in. “Okay, seriously if this is an alone time trip for you two, I don’t need to be here.” He couldn’t help feeling disappointment in Oliver at the thought. What had all of that talk about wanting to see Laurel right when he got back been about?

But Oliver shook his head firmly. “It’s not.”

“Yeah, pretty sure Ollie wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole these days. So don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he replied, dragging it out as he looked from one to the other. “So is she coming or no?”

Sara put a hand on her hip and stared them down.

“I guess she has to,” Oliver eventually grumbled. “She’s the only one that knows the...trail.”

Tommy was starting to get a feeling that something was up. He wasn’t sure what, but there had to be some reason for Oliver’s insistence on going to one specific mountain trail, not to mention his and Sara’s frostiness towards each other. Mr. Diggle joined them at that moment, however, so Tommy elected not to say anything. He didn’t want to get Oliver in any more trouble with his mother than he already would be after this trip.

They all loaded onto the plane and took their seats, Tommy next to the window and beside Oliver with Mr. Diggle sat across. Sara sat in her own row, her shoulders hunched. They were given the usual safety spiel by the pilot and then it was takeoff.

“So, this flight is, what, thirteen? Fifteen hours?” He checked. “What do we all want to do in the meantime?”

Sara and Mr. Diggle were both silent.

“Get some rest,” said Oliver.

“Okay, but it is morning, Ollie. You remember that, right?”

“I know it is, but the time differential usually leads to jet lag, which I want to avoid,” his friend explained. “I pulled an all-nighter last night. I’ll sleep on the plane, and then I’m ready to go when we land.”

“Oh.”

Oliver settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. Tommy sighed. This was going to be a long flight.

He hoped this trip was actually worth all the trouble.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: The Sanderson Sisters

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Ah, Hocus Pocus, everyone’s favorite campy Halloween cult classic. Objectively speaking, the movie is probably no better than a made-for-TV cheesy 90s Disney movie – and funnily enough, this film’s director would go on to make plenty more of those, seeing as he would do the High School Musical movies and The Descendants – as it has all the hokey writing, late 80s/early 90s cliches you’d expect, and some truly boring main characters.

But, thankfully, it has three of the most charismatic women you could imagine camping it up and firmly cementing their status as Halloween icons for all time: The Sanderson sisters, Winifred, Sarah, and Mary. These three are the reason this movie is held so near and dear to people’s hearts, and frankly, without them this movie would just plain suck. With them, it still sucks, but in a fun way, elevating it beyond “so bad it’s good” and into the realm of endearing camp alongside such masterpieces as Venom.

But enough of all this; just like when you’re watching the movie, you’re here for the girls, so let’s talk about them.

Actor: The leader of the bunch is Winifred, and she is played by Bette Midler. Bette Midler has called this her favorite role ever, and seeing how she acts in this, it really shows. A running theme with these three is that they just absolutely ham it up, and Bette Midler goes above and beyond with Winifred – she’s not just a ham, she’s the whole damn hog. In fact, in a lot of ways, she hogs the spotlight, what with her hamminess being so magnetic and the fact that she is clearly the brains of the operation. But that’s not to say the others are bad.

Sarah Jessica Parker plays… Sarah. Funny how that worked out. She is the hot and dumb one, and boy oh boy does she play that role to perfection, though of course she does manage to be creepy and sinister when the scene calls for it – that song of hers has become iconic for a reason.

Finally we come to Mary, played by none other than Peggy Hill herself, Kathy Najimy. Najimy does a great job, she plays her role well, but out of the three I feel like she has the most trouble standing out. Which isn’t to say she’s bad, far from it – she doesn’t have the bombastic personality of Winifred nor the complete ditziness of Sarah.

Here’s the thing, though: if any of these three weren’t here, or weren’t portrayed by these specific actresses, they’d fall apart, the movie would fall apart, game over man, game over! The film only works because these three have such great chemistry, such great interactions, and such great weirdness to them that if even one of them were gone or they just weren’t in synch, things would be a lot less fun.

Motivation/Goals: Like most evil witches in fiction, these three want children, specifically so that they can drain their vitality with a magic potion so that they can be young and powerful forever. This gets them hanged 300 years before the main story starts, and when they come back, they reuse this goal with a bit more urgency: they now need to drain the vitality from children before the sun rises and turns them to dust, as their resurrection is set to only last a single night otherwise. Frankly, the fact that their goal is killing and sucking the life out of children is the only thing that’s keeping the audience from rooting for them, because the actual protagonists of this film are so unremarkable and cliché that it’s pretty hard to want to see them stop the funny and charismatic witches,

Personality: Winifred is clearly the one who got all the brains, which makes sense as she is the leader. She’s a lot quicker on the uptake and realizes things more quickly than her ditzier sisters, as well as a lot more proactive and pragmatic in general. She does the spellcasting, she brews the potions, she just inhabits the role of leader naturally. It helps that of the three she has the most outwardly intimidating presence.

Mary is the middle child, and her personality is somewhere between the two sisters: she’s ditzy, but not to Sarah’s level, and she’s got some common sense and wits, but definitely not on Winifred’s level. This is kind of why I said she has a hard time sticking out personality-wise before, as she’s the epitome of the awkward middle child. However, she does excel at her role as a predatory child tracker, able to sniff out their victims with ease. It’s also implied, but not outright stated, that she’s a much bigger eater than her sisters; she is noticeably chunkier than the others, after all. And considering their diet… it’s definitely not a good idea to undersell that Mary is definitely a wicked witch.

Then we come to Sarah, who is an absolute ditz and the epitome of a dumb blonde… and yet, she is also one of the most dangerous, as she has a sort of siren-like power to draw children to her with her singing. In fact, while she does come off as a ditzy goofball for the most part, her interactions with children paint a rather… uncomfortable picture, one that reveals her true nature.

I think it’s worth noting that despite how ditzy both Mary and Sarah are, both of them also have the common sense to point out to Winifred that, when Sarah has called numerous children to their house, they really don’t need to bother with the protagonists anymore. In this moment, Winifred decides to reject common sense and go after them because one of the heroes called her ugly. It sort of highlights just how petty and irrational Winifred can be, and how despite her disdain for her sisters, she’s really not so different from them in the end. It’s also worth noting that Mary and Sarah, while clearly evil due to their association with Winifred, are actually pretty nice and mostly harmless otherwise, to the point where you could make a case that without Winifred around, they’d probably not be villains at all.

But if that were the case, we wouldn’t have a movie, and then we wouldn’t be here, huh?

Final Fate: Of course these three fail to suck out any vitality by sunrise, with Winifred’s stupid little vendetta damning her and her sisters. The rays of the sun turn Winifred to a statue and cause Sarah and Mary to explode, with Mary even getting a moment to wave goodbye in resigned sadness as she bursts into a dust cloud. After her sisters are gone, Winifred’s statue explodes spectacularly.

Best Scene: I don’t think there’s really anything that comes close to the sister’s spellbinding performance of “I Put a Spell On You,” at least in regards to all three of them together. I mean, if you get a singer like Bette Midler to star as a villain in your movie, why would you not have her sing? Only a complete hack who doesn’t know how to properly utilize actors would waste a singer in a role where they don’t sing.

The thing is, these three are together all the time, so there’s not much room for individual moments for them to shine otherwise… or there wouldn’t be, if they didn’t showcase Sarah’s absolutely terrifying power, leading her number “Come Little Children” to being her standout moment, and the moment that really drives home the incredibly uncomfortable undertones she exudes.

Best Quote: I think Winifred gets the best quote in the whole movie, which occurs when her zombified ex Billy Butcherson (played by Doug Jones, who you may remember for his critically acclaimed role as Mac Tonight in the McDonald’s ads). Billy tells her to go to hell, and she retorts with: “Oh! I've been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.”

Sarah, of course, has her villain song: “Come little children, I'll take thee away / Into a land of enchantment / Come little children, the times come to play / Here in my garden of magic.”

And, unfortunately, in this regard I think Mary gets the shaft. Despite her definitely being funny and entertaining, she just doesn’t have the same level of standout quotes as her sisters.

Final Thoughts & Score: So as I was writing this, I was thinking of what their score could possibly be. I thought I’d probably have to lower their score, because aside from them, this movie is just corny early 90s cheese… but then I thought, what’s wrong with that? And why should these three suffer a lower score due to the rest of the movie’s failings? That isn’t their fault. Hell, these three are the reason to watch the movie. If anything, the movie’s failings are drowned out by just how charismatic and enjoyable they are to watch.

Much like their fellow child-hating hag the Grand High Witch, the Sanderson sisters are blessed with fun, funny, charismatic actors who aren’t afraid to ham things up and know just what kind of move they’re in and absolutely revel in it. They saw they were playing three stereotypical fairy tale witches and decided to have a blast with it, and in doing so they managed to transform an otherwise corny Disney film into the Halloween legend that this film is. I wouldn’t say these three are particularly deep or complex, but they have a very fun dynamic and add a lot of spice to an otherwise bland plot. Between them and Doug Jones, they give you a lot of reasons to come back and watch this film over and over.

Obviously, these three are getting a 9/10, only held back from a perfect score because yes, sometimes the camp can be a bit much, even for me. But I’m just not heterosexual enough to give these three ladies anything lower. I still have to unfortunately say Mary is the weak link here, but it’s only comparatively speaking, and I’d probably bump these three down to a 7 if she wasn’t here. I really can’t stress enough that there dynamic is so utterly important that even one of them not being there would spoil things. They just don’t make evil trios like this anymore.

[gwaciechang]

A Very Pierre Prequel (2/5)

And now back to our regularly scheduled reader POV where Pierre suffers a lot and the reader is unrelentingly kind to him.

“What’s 14 times 15?” you ask out loud.

“210,” Laurie’s terrifyingly clever friend, Maisie, answers almost at the same time.

“Thanks,” you tell her, continuing with your article. 210 pounds of heroin disappearing overnight from a police station couldn’t be an accident.

Something falls from the big oak tree with a thud, and you look up, alarmed.

“What the hell was that?” Laurie asks.

“A man fell out of the tree,” Maisie says nonchalantly.

“Shit,” you grab some bandages out your purse. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Laurie reaches for their scarf.

“No,” Maisie says suddenly, taking out her keys. “Laurie, you have to get ready for work. I’ll go.”

Laurie walks back to her room without another word, and the two of you run down the stairs to find the injured man. Maisie presses the button for the elevator on the way for some reason, did you forget to tell her it was broken?

“Hello?” you peer at the man at your feet. Miraculously, he’s not bleeding anywhere you can see, but he is holding his stomach. “Do you need an ambulance? I have a first aid kit.” Shit, you left it upstairs.

“Ambulance?” he looks at you in confusion. “What’s an ambulance?”

Shit, how hard did he hit his head?

“Who’s the president?”

He gives you another confused look, and you remember this is England, they don’t have presidents. Wait, do they call ambulances something else here, too? Shit.

He stares at you with obvious agony in his eyes until Maisie steps in.

“Follow my finger with your eyes,” she says, moving her index finger. “Okay, I’m going to shine this in your eyes to check your pupil response,” she holds up the flashlight on her keychain and his pupils must respond well, because she nods at you. “No concussion.”

“Why are you holding your stomach like that?” you ask, gesturing to where he still has his arm wrapped around his middle.

“I hit a tree branch on the way down,” he says through gritted teeth.

This close, you can see blood on his shirt. “How many?” you ask.

“Come on,” Maisie goes to his side and motions for you to help her carry him up to your apartment. His shirt feels weird.

Maisie soft metallic clinks when she walks, but when you look, you don’t see anything she’s wearing that could cause it. You open your mouth to ask, but the elevator dings.

He’s holding up remarkably well, or maybe he’s just leaning more on Maisie, seeing as she has a pretty firm grip around his middle with the hand she’s not using to twist her necklace. You focus on leading the three of you down the hall.

“Take off your shirt, or whatever that is,” you deposit him in a chair next to the kitchen counter. It definitely doesn’t look like any shirt you’ve ever seen.

“Um,” the man holds his middle even tighter.

“Get the first aid kit,” Maisie says imperiously, and you do. There’s a loud, metallic crash, and both you and Laurie enter the room to see a goddamn sword on the floor. “I was planning a magic trick,” Maisie looks you right in the eye, and you can’t tell if she’s lying. “Pierre, take your shirt off,” she says, and this time the man, Pierre apparently, listens.

The cut on his stomach (or the newest one, anyway) doesn’t look nearly as bad as the mostly-healed one on his chest, or the multitude of burns all over his torso. You’re not sure if you touch it out of horror or compassion, but it makes Pierre swallow and sit up straighter.

“Alex, disinfect his cuts, please. Laurie, I’m driving you to work,” Maisie picks up the sword and leaves, dragging a very confused Laurie with her.

“Sorry,” you laugh nervously, while you dab disinfectant on everything. “I don’t know what’s up with her today.” Not that you know what’s up with her any day.

Pierre just sits still, taking the alcohol sting with disturbing fortitude.

“Did somebody hurt you? Because these don’t look accidental,” he stiffens in the chair, and you’ve definitely crossed a line. “Ignore me. I’m being nosy, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me,” Pierre says, and he lowers his shirt and stands.

“I’m not done,” you say.

“I was sent here to kill you.”

You look at the floor where the sword used to be. “Not a magic trick, then?” you ask rhetorically.

”I think she knew, but I’m not sure how,” he walks toward the door like he’s going to the gallows.

“Sit back down,” you gesture to the chair.

He stares for a second. “I just said I came here to kill you.”

“And I said I wasn’t done,” you hold up the disinfectant. “Sent here by who?”

Pierre doesn’t answer, but he does sit down. Still, he keeps his eyes on you, like he's expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him like the flergen from Captain Marvel. You giggle a little at the reference, and Pierre looks confused, which is fair.

“I was just thinking of a movie I saw,” you explain.

He smiles back just the tiniest bit. “Did you see it on the television?”

“No, I saw it in the theater.” The way he said “television” reminds you of those old medieval fantasy shows you used to watch.

“They still have those?” he visibly brightens.

You look at him with a little more concern. Maybe he does have a concussion? But then you think about those burns. It’s not inconceivable that the same person who's been torturing him repeatedly kept him away from the world.

“I need to stop thinking about conspiracy theories,” you grumble.

“What’s a-”

“No,” you hold up your hand. Pierre’s jaw snaps shut. Now this, you could get used to.

He's starting to shiver a little now, so you walk over to the thermostat and turn it up. He stands up again.

“For god’s sake, sit down and let me take care of you,” you say, exasperated.

He stares at the thermostat, but he sits down like you told him to.

“Any other injuries?” you ask when you're finally done.

“No,” he says, but he’s rubbing his arms, so you take your jacket off and motion for him to do the same. And for good reason, it turns out, because his arms are covered in shallow, bleeding cuts that look like they were made by-

“Did somebody scratch you?” you ask, holding your hands up to the cuts.

He looks away.

“Am I the first person you were sent to kill?” you ask a bit more harshly.

There's a beat of stillness, then he shakes his head.

“Who sent you?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” you cross your arms and hope you look intimidating.

“Sheldon Blake,” he whispers, eyes darting between the lights, the microwave, and your laptop.

Your heart stutters in your chest. “The drug dealer?” you grab another chair and sit down in front of him. “So my hunches were right!” you should probably not be grinning so wide.

“So you have been investigating him,“ Pierre’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “You need to stop.”

You scoff. “What are you, my keeper? I’ve never been in the habit of being quiet about evil, and I'm not going to start now.”

Pierre slams his fist on the kitchen counter. “I was sent here to kill you, do you understand?”

“Obviously,” you nod to the tree outside, “and you suck at it. One fall out of a tree and you’re spilling all your secrets to me.”

He retreats with a lost look.

“What?” you ask, curious.

“It wasn’t the fall that changed my mind,” he says quietly, and this makes you blush.

You put the first aid kit back. So what do we do now?” you ask. “Clearly, you’ve just left his cult, or whatever, I mean, if you don’t know what an ambulance is, then it’s definitely a cult he has in his warehouses-”

“Warehouses?”

“You know, the place he makes his heroin.”

Pierre shakes his head. “What is heroin?”

Your jaw drops to the floor. “What do you mean, ‘what's heroin?’ It’s an opioid drug, horribly addictive, and extremely painful to detox from. I mean, I think. I’ve thankfully never had to deal with it myself.”

“Opioid? Like poppies? Wait, don’t tell me. You do realize you still have to deal with a man who makes it and will kill you to stop you from talking about it,” Pierre says with a frown.

You snort. “He can try. He hasn’t done a very good job of it recently, has he?” you nod to the spot on the floor where Maisie dropped the sword.

Pierre looks uncomfortable again. Good.

“Do you want to go back to him?” you ask. You know better than to take a person out of a situation, even an abusive one, against their will.

Pierre swallows, but doesn’t answer.

“Has anyone ever asked you what you want?”

Pierre gives you the smallest shake of his head, and you’re going to nail Blake with your article.

You think for a second before switching tactics. If he’s not familiar with his emotions, he’s still a hitman, and they have to be familiar with bodies. “Does the idea of going back to Blake make you feel lighter or heavier, physically?”

Pierre takes a second to think. “Heavier,” he says hesitantly.

“Then I want you to stay here,” you say.

Pierre looks at you in disbelief. “You want a man who was sent here to kill you to stay in the place where you sleep.”

“You can sleep on the couch, if you want. I could even tie you down if you’d like.” Well, assuming you can untie the flogger you got after that interview with the professional dominatrix. “How does that sound?”

Pierre lets out a sigh. “I feel a good deal less clouded in my head, knowing you’ll at least take precautions to protect yourself, even if you won’t stop the foolhardy activities that got you Sheldon Blake'’ attention in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, because I have the option to walk away is exactly why I shouldn’t,” you say, grabbing some grapes out of the refrigerator to wash. “I need to tell the stories that I can walk away from so that people who can’t walk away can be safe.”

You notice Pierre eyeing the fruit in your hands, and hold the bunch within his reach. He only takes a single one, and he takes his time to savor it with small bites. He looks at you while you pop them in your mouth two a time with wide eyes, but doesn’t comment or ask for more. You watch him watch you eat for less than ten seconds before you give in and pull a few off to hand to him.

He takes them with reverent hands and a whispered, “Thank you, ma’am.”

You can’t help the recoil, and he reacts immediately by stuffing the grapes in his mouth and lowering his head to expose the back of his neck. He puts his hands on top of his knees with his palms up, and there are scars peeking out there too.

You’re not sure what this means, so you just keep going. He’s safe to say this to, it seems. “I’m tired of being ma’am all the time. It’s the 21st century, people aren't just mister or ma’am. I’m just Alex.”

[ardaaman]

The Trident’s Return

Novel Prep Tag

FIRST LOOK

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

Petryn Alenyath, disgraced former governor of the island nation Azmarin, suspects her political successor in the theft of the island’s greatest treasure, a powerful enchanted trident once belonging to Petryn’s ancestor. The only hope she has of reclaiming the governor’s seat lies in recovering the trident and proving her rival’s guilt... but, as every Azmarin native knows, there is always something lurking just below the water’s surface.

2. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

Political intrigue layered with high adventure on the high seas. Pirates and merfolk and magic and creatures from the darkest depths of the ocean.

3. What other stories inspire your novel?

As with The Alchemist’s Curse, everything here originated in D&D. Petryn was a PC in one campaign, then another, then a major NPC in another, and finally she landed here. Arda’aman and its history originated as a campaign setting. Even the plot was modified from a campaign idea I had. Despite all appearances, in a story so rooted in D&D and elemental magic, Princes of the Apocalypse had very little influence on this project, since I’ve never played that module. 

The Hobbit, specifically Lake Town, influenced the look and feel of Azmarin’s Serenity District.

Surprisingly enough, I’m also drawing some inspiration from the Princess Diaries movies, since I realized the dynamic I was aiming for with Petryn and Galen was very close to what Queen Clarisse and Joe had. So I bought both movies on Amazon. For research purposes. 

4. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

(x) (x) (x)

MAIN CHARACTER

5. Who is your protagonist?

Petryn Alenyath, descendant of one of Arda’aman’s greatest heroes and disgraced former governor of the island city-state, Azmarin.

6. Who is their closest ally?

Galen Glaucus, the son of a dock worker and an undine—an elemental spirit from the plane of water—and the current druidmaster of Azmarin.

7. What do they want more than anything?

She wants to live up to the Alenyath name, to the legacy that carries with it. She wants to do right by her people. 

8. Why can’t they have it?

She did have it. For exactly eight years. Then Remora beat her out in the polls and destroyed her reputation, and Petryn... This was Petryn’s whole life, the governorship. She wants it back, and the only way to do that without stooping to Remora’s level is to prove Remora stole the Namoros Trident. 

The trouble is, Remora didn’t.

9. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

In her original incarnation as a PC (and again as a muse on this blog), she wrongly believed that fencing and swordfighting were interchangeable skills, and she still believes that in The Trident’s Return. She’s a champion fencer, and her first instinct after Remora “ousts” her is to run away to someplace where she never has to face the shame of failure and become a wandering adventurer. 

She loved adventure stories growing up, and the archetypal action hero in any D&D-based story is a wandering adventurer. The problem being, “real” wandering adventurers tend to be trigger-happy bounty hunters who think they’re above the law and take every available opportunity to abuse it. In short, murder-hobos. 

Petryn is not a murder-hobo. Nor is she a swordsman. 

10. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

What, you think I can write and draw? No way. Credit: (x)

PLOT POINTS

11. What is the internal conflict?

There’s the whole “the only reason she’s still on her feet after Remora beats her is her conviction that Remora stole the trident and the subsequent burning hope that she can regain her career and exact revenge all at once, when the truth of the matter is that Remora had nothing to do with the theft, the real culprits are trying to undo everything Petryn’s ancestor worked to achieve, and Petryn has to come to terms with the fact that she’ll never get the governorship back, nor can she ever return to that time in her life, and she now has the daunting task of rebuilding herself from the ground up.” But I don’t know how to word that succinctly at the moment. 

Then there’s Duty vs Desire: Petryn has a duty to her family name, her ancestor, her city, and... herself? Nah, that sounds fake. Basically she always puts duty—her work obligations—before her own desires—in this case, Galen—and that doesn’t change just because she didn’t get reelected. Before, Galen was her adviser and subordinate, and a workplace relationship of that nature would be inappropriate, and now, with her reputation the lowest it’s ever been (thanks Remora!), she can’t afford the barest hint of a scandal if she’s to have any hope of winning the revote she’s trying to force. 

On the other hand, he’s sexy and compassionate, and she’s madly in love with him.

12. What is the external conflict?

There’s the rivalry between Petryn and Remora. They’re both cunning and relentless, but where Petryn holds herself and her people to a high moral standard no exceptions, Remora readily takes advantage of more, shall we say, underhanded tactics. So basically Man vs Foil

There’s also the massive, underground religious cult bent on bringing about a second apocalypse to keep everyone on their toes. That counts as Man vs Nature, right?

13. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Uhhhhhh pretty much someone stealing the closely guarded weapon that her family has kept safe for generations and using its magical powers to open a rift to the Water Plane to unleash the angry genocidal monster that her ancestor personally imprisoned. No biggie.

14. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

Yeah, Remora’s not the bad guy here. Sorry Petryn, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. You probably should have seen that coming.

15. Do you know how it ends?

It’s kind of a bittersweet ending, because on the one hand, she fails in her personal goal to get her job back. On the other hand, she saves the world! On the other hand, there’s still three more chapters of this cult trying to destroy the world. On the other hand, at least she’s knows they exist now and can’t be blindsided again! On the other hand, they also know she exists now.

On the other hand, she and Galen finally get together!

BITS AND BOBS

16. What is the theme?

Uhhhh something about... legacy, and... you can’t always get what you want.. and........... but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need oh yeah.

It’s a lot easier to spot themes once the story’s already written.

17. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

The Sovereign City of Azmarin, the Floating City, home of Port Serenity. Situated smack dab in the middle of the Marized Ocean, halfway between Sylanta and Haolong. The great cultural salad bowl of Arda’aman. 

18. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

It’s near the beginning. Petryn is slumped in a seat in the Rat ‘N a Barrel Pub and Lodgings with a brandy in hand. All around her, sailors are singing off-key shanties and celebrating their brief stint on solid ground, while Petryn quietly drinks herself into oblivion. As she nears the end of her third brandy, Galen slides into the seat next to her. 

19. What excited you about this story?

It’s a swashbuckling adventure full of magic and fun worldbuilding!

20. Tell us about your usual writing method!

Outline first, put on a playlist that fits the mood, then start writing.

Tagged by: no one, I just wanted to do it Tagging: Everyone who reads this all the way to the end!

[veryangryhedgehog]

Man of Medan: AKA Let me Throw my Money at your Face Supermassive

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these little analysis things, and I doubt this one will be very long (just kidding I lied), but I’ve been playing Man of Medan, the first episode of the new “Dark Pictures” anthology by Supermassive games, and I think you can tell by the title exactly how I feel about it.

(As a note, I will be discussing the contents of the game, so SPOILERS ahead)

First of all, let me just start by saying that I am a huge fan of horror in general, but especially of horror anthologies. There’s just something about the format that fits in so well with this particular genre, one that is often more about eliciting a certain kind of emotion or feeling from the audience vs. any grand character studies or morals to be shared. Don’t get me wrong, those things are great as well, as a writer becoming known for my massive amounts of character (a large number of which I kill off) I understand entirely. But horror in particular is a genre best encapsulated by its brevity. The shorter and more visceral it is, the less you have to explain, and often the more terrifying or thought-provoking. 

Another benefit of the anthology format is the ability to explore a larger amount of ideas in a shorter amount of time. And horror is of course, all about its ideas. So the instant I heard that Supermassive was going to create a series of shorter horror stories in the format of its previous game “Until Dawn” I was immediately excited. I held back a little, holding onto the fear that sequels are often worse off than their predecessors, and that lightning doesn’t often strike twice. I am pleased as punch to admit that my caution was entirely unwarranted.

Keep in mind, I have never actually played “Until Dawn”. I have seen two different Let’s Plays of it, but I feel as if I can’t truly judge a game without actually having played it myself. That’s kind of the purpose of a video game. Thusly I will not be making a whole ton of comparisons between the two works, but rather discussing “Man of Medan”, or MoM as I will abbreviate it as, on what I have observed and its own merits.

However, the one point of comparison I will have to make is between its two “framing devices,” mostly because I think it’s interesting to compare these two with the themes of their respective games. Until Dawn had a psychiatrist character, and many of its themes were related to the characters and their interpersonal relationships. I think people who claimed that the “choices didn’t actually matter that much” in the game were incorrect, as the choices weren’t so much based on how the story went moreso than how many characters made it out and how their relationships with each other changed. 

A lot of this theme of character interaction carries over to MoM, but at the same time I feel like there’s a much larger emphasis put on the concepts of the tales, as horror anthologies are wont to do, and the plays and twists on tropes that the creators can make. Thusly, MoM trades out the psychiatrist for the Curator. I will say that personally, I like the Curator better as a character. The psychiatrist was meant more to scare you, whereas the Curator has a deeper sense of disquiet to him. It’s more subtle, and it shows that while MoM does have a lot of “jump scare” moments to please the masses, it also contains that hint of genuine creativity and understanding of its genre. Also, for those of you who read Ede Valley, I think it will be obvious to you why I like this character so much. Or maybe not quite yet.

On the topic of its creators, I was incredibly impressed with the writers’ understanding of tropes and their uses in Until Dawn--I always hated when people complained that its characters were “weak” or “annoying” because once again, they completely misunderstood the creators’ intentions--and Man of Medan continues to impress on that front. To be fair, my friend (an actor) and myself (a writer) were able to guess what was really going on within about ten minutes of the game’s beginning, but even with that knowledge, it was still utterly fascinating for us to go through the game and seeing what the creators did with it.

Have you noticed that all of the characters see different things? (Special thanks to @allimiece for pointing this out.) Alex and Brad see pretty generic things, but Julia (who is unsure of her relationship) sees Alex trying to attack her, Fliss (who is relatively superstitious and cautious) sees cults and rituals, and Conrad, most interesting of all, has his own hornyness turned against him in the form of a pretty pinup girl turning into an ugly crone and hunting him down.

I am sincerely impressed with the amount of thought that went into the writing of this tale. As with its predecessor, these characters are not the smartest people. They are a little older than their wendigo-chow counterparts, in a slightly different phase of their lives, but still kind of idiots. But that’s the point. Sure, there’s some incredibly cheesy lines here or there, but all of it is done with this knowledge of “yeah, we know this is really stupid too. Look at this fucking idiot. You wanna kill him, right?”

But not only that, I am even more impressed with the thought and care that went into absolutely every detail of this game. I decided to go and watch some of the small featurettes that came with the game, as I’ve always been a sucker for behind-the-scenes stuff. This is actually what prompted the writing of this essay. Because in those featurettes, the creators talked about the amount of thought and love that went into every aspect of the game, down to hiring a costume designer and getting swatches for the Curator’s potential clothes, down to the details on his fucking desk and the hours of thought about the lighting in his repository, and I was utterly astounded (and honestly a little cowed, I wish I could write some of my stories with as much effort). 

I’ve always held the belief that if you put a lot of love and a lot of effort into a work of art, it will really show. And sometimes this will elevate a work from great to stellar, and now if I ever need a ready example of this, I can point to Man of Medan. You can truly tell that everyone involved with this project really cared about what they were doing, and about making something truly great, and every second of screentime just bleeds it.

I’ve played through the game about 2 and a half times now, once in multiplayer, and once in single, and it ran so smoothly and wonderfully and I only ever experienced a few minor graphical glitches (which are slightly worse in the multiplayer, but that’s most likely out of Supermassive’s control). Even my friend who is a professional business man was highly impressed with it, so much so that he was wondering how much money it would take to buy Supermassive (keep dreaming, Wimdy, keep dreaming).

So yeah, Man of Medan is absolutely fantastic and if you haven’t experienced it yet, you should really just go buy it. It’s available on Steam for only $30, and is worth every penny. I understand that it’s very easy to simply go watch Lets Plays, especially of games that play mostly like movies such as this one, but Supermassive is not a huge AAA studio. They certainly don’t get the sales figures that say Call of Duty or even Assassin’s Creed receives. So if you can, please, please go support them in any way you can. MoM is an incredible game and I’m so excited to see what they come out with in the future.

(Also, Allimiece and I are so excited for Little Hope. The Crucible is our shit and we are over the moon about it!)

[vipers-hat]

For john and Nic the "flirting was bad enough" prompt? 💕💕

Vaguely based on the non-cult AU headcanons things I did a bit ago when I basically forgot what headcanons were for that one hour 

Chances

Nicolette Raylan is usually one to at least things through before she jumps into a situation, consequences be damned. The pesky, flirty lawyer John Seed that literally elbowed his way into her life puts that to the test.

 Nicolette stared down at the array of gifts that lay across Joey Hudson’s desk. Her partner had called her over to the desk an hour before over ‘some news.’ She had known that the woman sounded delighted when she said it. She knew Joey was up to something. She hadn’t expected what she had gotten.

A bouquet of roses and a set of those expensive truffles whose price tag she laughed at any time she and Grant went grocery shopping at the more high-end place.

“Got a boyfriend you didn’t tell us about?” Joey asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” she replied.

“Ain’t for lack of him trying,” Earl called from his desk a few feet away.

Nicolette shot him a look, and he shrugged before going back to reading over a case file. She reached for the tag that had been attached to the two deliveries, only for Joey to snatch it up before she could. “Hey!”

Joey grinned at her before checking the tag. “Order from: John Seed. Hold on, isn’t that that ambulance chasing lawyer with all the bad commercials? The one that just happened to overhear you getting overwhelmed with your mom’s paperwork at the coffee place?”

“He’s not an ambulance chaser!” Nicolette objected, only to pause. “Okay, so he basically is but he’s got big cases that come first.”

Joey merely grinned at just how easily the other woman jumped to his defense. “Oh my God, you like him!” Joey grinned.

“I do not.”

“She does too,” Earl deadpanned.

Nicolette looked between them and sighed. “Okay. So he’s not that terrible. And as prospects go, he’s no Bobby Manyard.”

Earl groaned behind his coffee cup at the mention of the name.

“Exactly,” Nicolette jabbed a finger towards him, then stood up and fished her phone out of her pocket as she went. “I have to make a call.”

“Oooh, thanking him for the flowers?” Joey asked.

Nicolette elbowed her across the back of the head once she passed her. “About the Reynolds case, asshole.”

“Tell John I said hi. Also that I’m in the market for a lawyer after my car accident-” Joey ducked the stress ball that Nicolette had taken from Staci’s desk and launched her way, giggling all the while.

Nicolette left the room, and once she had done the phone call that was about the Reynolds case, thank you very much, she dialed another number. She nearly groaned when it barely rang twice before the other end clicked on. “Really?” she deadpanned. 

“What did I do now, Deputy?”

“Flirting was bad enough, but now flowers and chocolates are just too far.”

“Oh, so you did get them.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that the big name lawyer sending gifts a deputy’s way isn’t going to look good for me?”

“If people think that a few roses and chocolates count as bribery, they aren’t worth your time my dear. Those expire. I could just pay you off if I wanted.”

“Oh could you?” she countered sarcastically.

“Hush now, I know you’re above that. I won’t try. Promise. Besides, the only case you and I have in common is yours. And it’s not even a case, technically.”

“Why does that only make me positive you’ve bribed people before that?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” 

“Spoken like a true lawyer.”

“I’d certainly hope so.”

“Ass,” Nicolette countered, though there was a lot more affection behind it than she would’ve liked. She didn’t know what it was about him, but ever since he had elbowed his way into her and Earl’s space while talking about her mother’s passing, announcing he was a lawyer and offering his help in settling her affairs, he had been a staple in her life. Except it was more like a thorn in her side than a staple. He was arrogant, flirted with her at every opportunity, flaunted his extensive wealth like he was trying to bait her all the time, and didn’t bother hiding that he dabbled in matters of questionable legality. The rub was that she didn’t mind any of it. She enjoyed their time together. which was dangerous, considering their near opposite standings in the law. She knew he had gotten a little more involved with showing his interest lately and the flirting had elevated to random acts of kindness- treating her to a lunch every so often as they poured over paperwork, calling in a favor if they needed a warrant and the like. The occasional rose or a dozen were a new addition on the list. She knew something had shifted on his end with their back and forth, but this was getting ridiculous.  “Can I ask you what your interest is?”

“In what?”

“Me. Don’t you have plenty of other skirts to chase?”

“I do, but I’m not chasing. I’d much rather get to know you. You intrigue me.”

She hadn’t expected that response. “Way to make me feel like some sideshow attraction.”

“You’re the main show, Deputy. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Again with the flirting.”

“I like you. Is that a crime?” There was something in his voice that sounded… off. He sounded guarded. 

“I swear to God, if you say ‘arrest me’…”

“Wasn’t going to. Give me some credit here. I don’t use cheap lines.” 

She hesitated, then figuring she was best off “Right, because all of that money you have. Is this going anywhere, John?”

Whatever apprehension was in his voice was gone in his response. “Have dinner with me.”

Well, she hadn’t expected him to be so direct about it. Usually he went on for at least ten minutes before making a point. What had it been then? Two? “I thought everything was settled.”

“Not business. As a date. You know that.”

“Is that what all the gifts that come across as romantic gestures were supposed to lead to?”

“Figured it wouldn’t hurt my chances.”

“I’ll have you know I can’t be bought, Mr. Seed. My men or women earn me,” she pointed out, though she kept it teasing. 

“I intend to, Ms. Raylan.”  

She almost choked on her own tongue at that. Cheeky bastard kept up with her way too easily. Oh, this was dangerous. But damn it if she wasn’t tempted. He was an ass, but a charming one at that. And they would probably have fun, admittedly. She’d be the joke of the precinct, though. They could deal. Shit. Had she just convinced herself? “I’m off at seven tonight. Swing by the station.”

“Gladly. See you then.”

She rolled her eyes when he practically purred the response and she hung up before she could provide further encouragement. She waited about five seconds before she looked over her shoulder. “You can come out now.”

Joey, Earl and Staci all came around the corner, all equal parts ashamed and unapologetic at the same time.

“Not your boyfriend, huh?”

“It’s just one date,” Nicolette snapped.

“Is what I also told all my skeptical friends when your mother came along and they had concerns about the eight year old spitfire that came with her, now here I am her stepdad,” Earl pointed out.

Nicolette squinted at him and smacked his arm. 

Earl laughed, then shrugged.  “If he starts playing games after all this nonsense I’m showing him the gun locker,” Earl pointed out.

“I hate all of you,” Nicolette announced.

“I didn’t do anything!” Staci pointed out.

“Exactly. You’re supposed to take my side,” she countered.

It was enough to get a laugh out of the others, and that had been that on that particular topic. Of course, until 7:00 rolled around, they were all on their way out of the building and John was there to meet Nicolette, leaning on his obnoxiously bright red muscle car.

Joey nudged Nicolette in the ribs, which earned an elbow to hers back. The latter made a promise to check in with the former later that night and headed for John’s car. It had taken all it had in her not to tease the man when he opened the co-passenger door for her. She got in and he returned to the driver’s side and got in. Before long, they had arrived at some surprisingly informal restaurant. They had waited nearly half an hour for a table, and once the menus came around, she found that the prices weren’t even that bad. She could easily afford it on her police salary. So the bastard wasn’t flaunting anything like usual. The new change in tactic nearly threw her, but it was welcome all the same.

As dates went, it had gone surprisingly well. They exchanged stories about early days on their respective jobs and poked fun at the people they had in common with several of the stories that they both disliked. Nicolette had spotted a chicken cordon bleu on a plate on a neighboring table and had mentioned it reminded her of helping her mother make it when she was a kid. John had given her a look of absolute fondness that had nearly disarmed her, and she had asked him if he had any experiences like that. He had laughed it off, lamented that he had no good memories of the sort- “least of all in the kitchen.” She had tried to backpedal once she realized that response probably had something to  do with the ‘mutual tragedy’ he had mentioned early on in what had drawn him to her and inspired him to help her. She had blurted out that her teenage life hadn’t been sunshine and rainbows- her father had tried to kill and her mother after all, just to even the playing field.

John had put his hand over hers, assuring her that there was no harm done, promising it was ‘something for a future date’ - arrogant bastard. Still, she hadn’t pulled her hand away either. By the end of the night their fingers were threaded together, and Nicolette wasn’t exactly sure who had made the first move for that.

They left not long after that, and John drove her home and walked her to the front stoop.

“Well, congrats, Seed. You didn’t weird me out once. I had fun.”

“Good. Same time next week, then?” John countered.

She stared at him, then laughed. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

“We’ve been over this. Not when I’m very interested in someone. Not for you.”

“And why is that?”  Nicolette asked, suddenly thoroughly embarrassed at how guarded it sounded. “So why am I intriguing, Mr. Wordsmith?”

“Because a little mutual tragedy goes a long way and… it’s a nice change of pace,” John admitted, suddenly equally serious. You’re worth it.”

She laughed weakly. “Goodnight, John.” She turned to leave.

He caught her wrist in his hand and once she turned to see what it was about, ready with a comment about how she had already mentioned things weren’t guaranteed to go further than the front porch. Instead, he bent down to kiss her soundly.

And of course the bastard could kiss- to the point that her head spun, and she panicked a bit. She hadn’t had that reaction to a kiss in years. Of course it was his that garnered it. She barely returned it at his level of enthusiasm before he had pulled back.

The moment was a bit ruined when John had the nerve to look smug when he noticed how dazed she looked. He leaned forward. “I might not have earned your heart yet, but I intend to be the last one who does. You can guarantee that.”

Well, that was an awfully bold, brave, statement. “Are you implying you’re gonna kill the competition, because that’s immediately where my brain went with th-“

He scoffed, then kissed her again, briefly but firmer than the last. “There is no competition,” he pointed out afterwards.

She laughed at that again and backed up towards the porch again. “Goodnight, John,” she repeated.

“Goodnight, Nicolette.”

He let her go that time. She closed the door behind her and laughed again. Once she realized she had done it, she realized that was another first in a while. She was looking forward to pursuing whatever the Hell this was. With John Fucking Seed.

This was going to be trouble. And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Breaking the Timeloop, chapter 1: Henry, this is Henry

Thanks for showing support for this, guys. I hope you like it. The first chapter mostly outlines the “laws” of this fic’s universe, which are based on popular Reddit theories of the time. They’re outdated now, but made for a nice story.

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Henry Stein stepped into Joey Drew Studios, apprehensive as to what he might find. Returning to the studio had seemed like such a small favor to make his ex-business partner and old friend happy. Joey Drew had seemed so remorseful, and so much calmer and kinder than he had been back then. Still, as soon as Henry was staring down the studio's halls, lifeless and decaying  but otherwise unchanged, he was reminded of the time he'd spent working in them. In those years, Joey Drew had shown an ugly, selfish, twisted side of himself to Henry. One that Henry had all but forgotten about. Who knew what he'd wanted from having Henry return?

 With a start, Henry realized that he was holding two objects in his hand, neither of which he recalled bringing in: a strange, hand-mirror shaped instrument, and a book with the words, READ IMMEDIATELY written large in ink over the entire expanse of the cover. Henry obeyed the text.

Henry? This is Henry. This'll come as a surprise, but you're stuck in a time loop, buddy. You seem to lose your memory every few loops. After a few hundred loops, though, I figured that out and started this journal. This way, you can learn from my mistakes and hopefully have a better chance of getting out of here.

I don't know why I'm here. That makes it pretty difficult to guess what needs to be done to get out. My best guess is that Joey Drew put me in this time loop so that I could fix his mess. Keep your eyes out for any indication that this is not the case, but for now, focus on trying to save as many people as possible.

Follow these rules:

1. Write down anything significant you learn. If you end up in Joey Drew's apartment, write everything you need to down, because it'll be your last chance to do so before a new loop begins.

2. Don't be afraid to die. This time loop effectively makes you immortal. Take risks to experiment.

3. Protect this book at all costs. When Joey Drew sends you back into the studio at the end of a loop, transfer it and the seeing tool to your right hand to ensure it will be preserved.

The next page contains a table of contents. This page contains a list of the creatures you'll encounter. Please read it.

Ink creatures in general

Each ink creature was either made with a soul, or took on an imprint. The ones with souls hold the memories of the people they once were. I'll start with the ones with souls.

Sammy Lawrence

Yeah, that Sammy Lawrence. Sorry, bud, but you had to learn sometime that Joey created a real tragedy. Sammy isn't your chipper, if easily annoyed old friend anymore. He's an ink-covered loon who worships Bendy (who I'll get to later) to the point where he's willing to use you as a human sacrifice. He mostly lurks in the first basement floor and second to lowest floor of the studio. However, since he worships the ink demon, he can be anywhere instead of hiding away from him as most ink creatures do. Bendy is still malicious to him occasionally, however. He's almost invariably malicious at first, but there are ways of saving him. See pages 34, 52, and 57 for how to befriend him. He's a powerful ally as he runs a cult of lost ones and searchers. Times befriended: 63/584 (since I started counting) Times killed: 311/584

Susie Campbell/Alice Angel (scarred)

Susie Campbell's soul was transferred into an Alice Angel clone. Be extremely careful around her, as she is capricious and has no qualms with murder. She is mostly found on the ninth floor, where she has a fairly significant portion of the studio sealed up to protect herself from the ink demon. She has access to a lot of machinery in there, and can control the elevator to some extent. Don't fall into her web-she has arguably adapted to surviving and protecting herself here better than anyone. She can also be found on level S. Do not use the elevator unless she either hasn't met you, or is dead. Be especially wary of her if you're traveling with a Boris. She kills them to use their organs. For how to befriend her, go to page 78. For ways to kill her, go to pages 7, 12, and 21.

Times befriended: 3/584

Times killed: 105/584

The Projectionist

A mechanical creature containing the soul of Norman Polk. He shows no signs of sapience. I never liked the guy, but he didn't deserve this. He likes dark areas, but he can be found anywhere because he doesn't have the sense to beware the ink demon. You'll know him when you see him, and when you do, run. There are ways to kill him, though: see page 54.

Times befriended:     /584

Times killed: 9/584

Bertrum Piedmont

Apparently, after I left the company, Joey tried to make a Bendy-themed amusement park which never got off the ground, and enlisted in this guy's help. They were always at each other's throats, and after they were done doing business together, Joey put his soul in an amusement park ride resting in a storage room for all the other unused Bendyland equipment. You'll know it when you see it. Unfortunately, he always mistakes me for Joey Drew, and that makes him almost impossible to befriend: he thinks it's just Joey being a manipulative liar. You must debilitate him before even attempting to befriend him-there is one very specific way to do so. For how to kill him, see page 4. For how to debilitate and befriend, see page 49.

Times befriended: 69/584

Times killed: 415/584

Lacie Benton and Grant Cohen

By using the seeing tool, I have detected their names on coffins. These same coffins hold the corpses of the others that were killed. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. At least one of them is a Lost One, it would seem, as at least one Lost One can talk and remembers its name. Lacie worked for Bertrum. She was probably killed because she was suspicious of Bertrum's whereabouts, but that's speculation. Grant Cohen was likely killed so that Joey could keep the company's financial matters secret.

Alright, now onto the soulless creatures. You probably can't save these, but they can still seriously help or hinder your quest.

Butcher Gang Members

Kill on sight. They have no signs of sapience and are invariably malicious. There are many copies of them.

Boris (perfect)

Almost invariably benevolent. The time spent with him (generally in his safehouse on the second basement floor) is like time spent with family. Down here, that kind of moral support is scarce and invaluable. However, he can be a serious liability if you run into the scarred Alice Angel. If that happens, keep him away from her at all costs. If she does get him, well, try to remember that he doesn't really have a soul. Just an imprint, seemingly of Wally Franks (laid-back, goofy, friendly, weak-willed, etc.) Though, that doesn't seem to keep him from feeling a fondness for me, or from feeling pain. I'm sorry Henry, but you're often gonna have to kill your dog. Alice hulks him up and turns him against you. For how to kill, see page 4.

Times befriended: 437/584

Times killed: 239/584

Alice Angel (unscarred)

She lives on the second-to-lowest level of the studio with a Boris clone she calls "Tom." She's generally benevolent. I suggest you recruit her early, as her combat skills can really come in handy, and, as I've mentioned, good company is scarce. When you meet her, show her your seeing tool. She has a tendency of thinking of you as some sort of savior, but she sees the seeing tool as some kind of proof of that. Her imprint could honestly be of anyone, but she's calmer than I ever knew Susie to be and has a rather feminine personality, so I'm going to guess it's Allison Pendle, who was hired to replace Susie as Alice's voice actress. For how to kill her, go to page 63.

Times befriended: 289/584

Times killed: 38/584

"Tom" Boris

Tom is a very distrustful, hardened Boris clone. He is often the main obstacle to befriending Alice. Sometimes, he can even convince her to imprison you. He is very useful in combat and situations involving strength, however. Don't try to befriend him: befriend Alice, and she'll convince him. And whatever you do, don't harm her, or look like you might harm her, in front of him. By his personality, he seems to have the imprint of Thomas Connor.

Times befriended: 260/584

Times killed: 38/584

Lost Ones and Searchers

Can't lie, don't know what these are. Some are malicious, some aren't. At least one can speak, most can't. By the same token, only a couple seem to have their own personality. I don't know if they have souls or not. I just know that when I am engulfed in the ink, I can hear their thoughts. It's like they're simultaneously one voice, and many. Their methods of combat often make them seem like a hive mind.

Bendy

Almost everyone in the studio fears Bendy. He's very powerful: he can teleport using posters, can only be killed or hurt by seeing the end tape of his cartoon (you read that right. See page 3.), and can send any creature back into the inky abyss with a single touch.

Because almost every interaction I have with him includes running away, I have not been able to get a good sense of his personality. However, I've noticed a pattern: he ceases to attack anything after he has killed a creature with a soul. He doesn't go after others without a soul, though he doesn't mind coming close enough to them to melt them into the tendrils of ink that follow him everywhere. I think he wants a soul. Maybe that's why he's after me.

I have not yet made allies with the ink demon. He doesn't seem to take sacrifices of a souled creature- in fact, he reacts with disgust and outrage, injuring (often mortally injuring) the sacrificer before coming after the sacrifice. The only exception I've found is if the person was defending themselves.

This shows me that Bendy has standards for other people but not himself. He uses everyone he can use, and is willing to stomp on and destroy anyone he can't. There's no question in my mind who his imprint is: Joey Drew. Nonetheless, his demonic powers lead me to believe that he might know something about how to save these souls.

 Henry stared at the page a long time after he'd finished reading, as though that would change its words.  Deep down, though, he knew that three pages of his own handwriting hadn't spontaneously appeared, and he definitely didn't remember writing them. He flipped through it to find that there indeed were over seventy pages to it, all in his own writing. His stomach sank as he realized that this was entirely real. "Oh, Joey, what have you been doing?" he whispered to himself.