#The homies have been by your side since childhood!!!

[app1es0uce]

Was watching this CDrama with my uncle, and by golly, after the long will they won’t they, the sacrifices, the tricks and lies, enemies to lover, dark villain turned good by the innocent hopeful hero drama, risking each other's life for one another, rescues and near deaths, nothing hit more when the villain's henchmen were willing to sacrifice themselves for their leader, the man who gave them a new life, a new chance. 

Don’t get me wrong, all the other romantic stuff were good and beautiful and got some tears outta me, but it just didn’t hit the same.

When the main villain was dying because he was losing all his magic energy, his men were like, “this man saved my life, I am now willing to give up my life to save him” and they all gave up their own magic energy, risking their lives, to the villain so he could live. Y’all I’m dying over here!!!

Fuck that romantic shit, this god damn found family shit is going to be the death of me-

[agaypanic]

Childhood friends to lovers with Francis Wilkerson x male reader 🙏🙏🙏

Francis thinking he’s straight until he and reader get older and he starts to question himself. They start to lose touch when Francis gets sent to military school, but when he comes back he sees reader and is like “…ok maybe I’m a little gay-“ maybe ends in fluffy kisses 🥹

Kissing The Homie (Francis Wilkerson X Male!Reader)

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Summary: Francis always thought he was straight. When he comes home from military school and sees his childhood friend for the first time in almost two years, he starts to learn some things about himself.

A/N: kind of unserious title bc i didn’t know what to title this lol also i feel like this sucks but i wanted to work on something

***

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to Alabama?” You asked your best friend, about to laugh. This must have been some insane joke. “Francis, you can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t, man.” He sighed, running a hand through his long hair and taking a drag of his cigarette. “My mom’s crazy.”

“Can you blame her? She’s got you as a son.” You snorted at your own jab, and Francis shoved your shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Y/n! I’m going to military school; I might as well die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Francis.” You snatched his cigarette to take a smoke. “You’ll get kicked out and be back here before you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured. The two of you were quiet for a minute, passing the cigarette back and forth. In a week, Francis was getting shipped off to a military school across the country, and although you joked about it, you didn’t know when you’d see him again, if at all. Sure, you’d been friends since you were five, but being states away with probably little contact could change that.

“I’ll miss you, man.” You said solemnly before smashing the lit cigarette against the bottom of your shoe. Francis laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t be gay, dude.” Now it was your turn to push him.

“Shut up.”

***

Contact with Francis became less and less the more that time went on. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault; you two just became too busy with other things. You pulled away from Richie and Francis’ other friends, realizing that you only ever hung out with them because Francis hung out with them. Not wanting to end up in the same boat your friend was in, you started focusing more on school. You and Francis tried to keep up with each other, but sending letters felt too time-consuming, and Francis used most of his phone calls on his family or girlfriend of the week.

You’d sulk about it, but that’s just how life worked.

Because you and Francis were childhood friends, your parents were somewhat close with each other. So you weren’t surprised when you came home from school one day, and your mom told you she got Lois to get you a job at Lucky Aide. The only bright side was getting money, although it wasn’t much.

After what felt like forever, spring break had finally come. It didn’t feel like much of a difference to you since you still had to work, but it’s the thought that counts. You got to work fewer hours because Lucky Aide had some kind of program going on where a bunch of people could work and do inventory for the week. Craig was in charge of it, so you didn’t care much about it.

“Hey, I got another box for you.” A voice sounded behind you while you were stocking a shelf. It sounded a bit familiar, but then again, this was a small town.

“Thanks, man. Just put it next to the open one.” You turned around and were startled by the baby blue eyes looking at you. “Holy shit. Francis?”

“Y/n, hey!” Francis dropped the box and roped you into a hug, patting you on the back. You hugged him back, a bit shocked. “I didn’t know you worked at Lucky Aide.”

“Have been for a few months. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Just for spring break.”

“Nice, nice.” You nodded, looking him up and down. Military school seemed to do him some good. Not behavior-wise, he was probably still a menace. But you mentally thanked whoever made him cut his hair. Sure, the long hair looked cool. But it looked so good the way it was now, short but messy. And after almost two years, he seemed so much more mature. Again, not behaviorally. He looked, dare you say, kind of hot.

Wait, you shouldn’t be looking at your friend this way. You didn’t like guys.

Maybe.

Little did you know, Francis was looking at you the same way. He didn’t think anyone would look as good as you did in a Lucky Aide smock. You filled it out perfectly. And you had certainly grown a lot since he last saw you, almost reaching his height now with broader shoulders. But you still had the smart-ass smirk on your face that he loved to see.

But Francis wasn’t gay. Nuh-uh. He just knew how to appreciate another dude’s looks. Yeah, that’s it.

“Well, listen, man. I dunno when your shift is over, but I get off at five, so maybe tonight we could catch up or something.” You suggested, continuing your task of restocking the shelves behind you. Even though he probably had something to do, Francis helped you by handing you items from the box.

“Yeah, that sounds great. My mom’s being a real pain in the ass-”

“What else is new?”

“-so I’m a little desperate to get away from home.”

“Well, I have a car now, so just let me know when you’re free.” He was about to answer you when Craig appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Francis! What are you doing here? The bouncy balls are not gonna recount themselves.” You laughed while Francis rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed his peace was interrupted. 

“You better go.” You said, taking the final item from his hands. He sighed, briefly balling his hands into fists before letting them rest at his sides.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, man.” You patted his shoulder before pushing him away, watching him mope and drag his feet toward where Craig was waiting for him.

***

Instead of waiting until his shift ended, Francis snuck out behind you after you clocked out. He raised the collar of his jacket to cover his face as he ran out to your car, making you cackle as you fished around in your pocket for your keys. He practically dove into the passenger’s seat when the car was unlocked.

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked as you settled in the driver’s seat, turning the car on.

“As long as I’m out of the house and not at work, I literally don’t care.”

Half an hour later, you were tearing into a giant bag of fast food in a park’s parking lot. A random radio station played as you messily ate the cheap food. You reached down to the floor of your backseat and pulled out a bottle of cheap alcohol. Francis definitely wasn’t opposed when you offered to splash some in his soda cup.

“So, what’s military school like?” You asked, chewing through the last of the curly fries. Francis swallowed the bite of his burger and grinned over at you.

“Dude, it’s so much better than I thought it’d be. I mean, most of it sucks, but the amount of shit I’ve gotten into is crazy.”

“Such as?” Francis’ eyes lit up. Clearly, a story had popped into his head, but then he sunk into his seat as if it were embarrassing. “Oh man, this one’s gotta be good.”

“Okay, so it was sometime last year. A buddy of mine and I did community service for a local beauty pageant. It was perfect, half-naked women everywhere who would want some kind of attention. Of course, I showed interest in the pageant to get with one of them. But…” He trailed off, and you leaned toward him in your seat, silently egging him on. He looked away from you. “But instead, she and the rest of the girls thought I was gay.”

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Were they right?” You received an eye roll and a punch in the shoulder.

“Shut up, man.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me all that and expect me to not ask questions.” You looked away and took a bite of your burger, confused by the slight disappointment you felt. It’s not like you really cared about the answer. “It’s no big deal if you are, bud.”

“And who said I am?” Francis’ voice was higher than it just was, like he was slightly panicked by the accusation.

“Those pageant girls, apparently.” You answered with a teasing grin. “Ever kissed a guy?”

“Gee, Y/n, no. Guess I never had the opportunity.” Francis sighed, taking a large sip of his spiked soda. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Sure, it seemed believable while he lived in a military academy in Alabama. But, especially looking the way Francis does now, you’re hesitant to believe he never even had the offer.

Huh, maybe you did like guys. Or at least a guy.

“Do you want an opportunity?” The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, surprising you further. By the look on his face, Francis was just as surprised.

“What?” He managed to choke out. You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the fact that you had just offered to kiss your childhood-turned-somewhat estranged best friend.

“Just saying, Francis. Better to kiss a friend than a stranger. Besides, who knows? You might like it.” You kept out the part that you were now secretly rooting for him to accept. You smirked at a now thoughtful Francis, trying to seem uncaring yet slightly intrigued by the whole matter.

A quiet Francis wasn’t a good one, which had you worried. You had half a mind to laugh, claiming that you were joking or that the cheap alcohol had taken your filter. But you were too deep now; you wanted to know what he’d say.

Francis licked his lips before turning to look at you, taking a deep exhale.

“Fuck it.” The craziest part was that he seemed completely serious.

Wordlessly, you both prepared yourselves. There seemed to be this unspoken agreement that whatever happened in your car would stay in your car until the both of you died. You took a final long sip of liquid courage before Francis took your face in his hands. You didn’t expect him to take charge of the situation, but you’re glad he did because the situation probably wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t.

The kiss was quick but enough to absolutely boggle your mind. Francis slipped one of his hands to the back of your head to draw you in. His fingers became tangled with your hair, keeping you in place after he pulled away. The two of you were quiet with eyes closed, not knowing how to proceed.

“Am I a good kisser, Wilkerson?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. Francis took the shy grin off your lips with another quick kiss, and when he pulled away, you opened your eyes this time. His baby blue eyes stared at you, filled with surprise and profoundness and what you wanted to say was lust.

“Okay…” Francis licked his lips again, taking a deep breath. God, it was so hot. “I think I might be a little gay.”

“Agreed.” You replied, staring back at him. He immediately went back in for a kiss that was longer and deeper than the previous ones. And you didn’t complain in the slightest.

[luminetti]

Overdue Apostasy ༺♡༻ preview/teaser

this is more of a test since i don't have any experience with tumblr so bear with me! Feel free to leave constructive criticism!

༘⋆ Summary:

In the nation of Faerûn, a new season of love begins for the upper echelons in the nation's capital Baldur’s Gate, gathering a plethora of unwed Lords and Ladies from across the nation. For Miss Tav Neredras, the season only promises another disappointing series of suitors and failed courting, until one night she suddenly finds Lord Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep on her doorstep with a gunshot wound through his stomach, seeking discreet refuge and recovery after a devastating duel.

༘⋆ Pairing: lord!gale dekarios x fem!reader/tav

Future chapters: brief wyll x reader and mentions of (previous) gale x mystra relationship)

༘⋆Warnings: blood and bullet wounds

Future chapters: predatory/pedophilic behavior (fuck mystra all my homies hate mystra)

༘⋆Notes: set in the regency era and very loosely inspired by bridgerton (I’ve never watched it)

more info to come when the full chapter is finished!

You cursed yourself for getting in such a position as you heaved a bloodied body onto your goose down bed sheets, dark sticky crimson clinging to your skin and the front of your white nightgown. The body landed with a soft flump, leaving a suspicious looking trail of blood towards the center of your bed. Normally you were against opening the door for strange men in the middle of the night, but a gunshot wound to the stomach usually prohibited acts of violence, unless the attacker wanted to bleed out to death, so you deemed it safe enough. You made sure to grab a fire poker from the fireplace on your way back from the medicine cabinet, just in case.

The blood was beginning to pool underneath the man, signaling that if you were to do anything, it had to be done with haste. Fighting back a gag at the tangy metal aroma of blood, you undid his vest and undershirt, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the floor. The bullet had thankfully wedged itself near the surface of his flesh making it an easy grab with a pair of tweezers. The wound itself proved to be more of a challenge. Stitches were required to stop the bleeding, but the needle slipped around between your fingers, and attempting to wipe the slick blood off your hands just made more of a mess. After a bit of adjusting, and a lot of wiping, you finally managed a messy line of seven uneven stitches.

For the first time in the past half hour, the thumping of your heartbeat began to fade from your ears, allowing you to process what had just happened.

You took a moment to look him over. He looked around your age. Around twenty– no, twenty-one? It was hard to tell with so much hair in his face. From what you could make out, he appeared to be a reasonably attractive man. Perhaps a bit unkempt, you thought, but as to be expected at this time of night. With his chestnut brown hair, he vaguely reminded you of Clyde, your childhood dog. Though intended as a compliment, you made a mental note to keep that one to yourself when–if ever–he awoke. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that was drawing you to the curve of his jawline, but with a start, you realize you had been staring for far too long. Blinking away your daydreams, you see the scene in front of you as it truly is.

There was a body in your bed.

You frantically reach over the bed to press two fingers firmly against his neck, feeling around for a pulse. Was he even still alive? A slow and faint periodical throb against your fingertips pulls a heavy sigh of relief out of your weary body, and you slump against the side of the bed. Thank the gods.

Unfortunately, the fact he was alive did not solve the strange-man-in-bed issue. Once he had been securely wrapped in several layers of bandages–any more and he may appear mummified–you weren’t sure what else there was to do. So, you recruited the only person in the household that could keep their mouth shut. Your older sister, Euphemia. 

***

“By Jove, sister… you’ve killed a man…” Euphemia looked pale-faced and wide eyed in horror at the seemingly lifeless body and blood adorning your room.

“Stop it.” You hissed under your breath, closing the bedroom door behind her. “He’s not dead. And would you keep your voice down?”

Euphemia looked from you to the body, then to your crimson hands and nightgown. “Are you to tell me he is… sleeping?” She asked, incredulously, her voice quavering.

You sighed, exasperated. You grabbed her wrist, much to her resistance, and forcefully pressed her fingers against his neck. “There. He is very much alive. Now will you please help me?” 

Your sister sighed in relief. “Gods… He looks mauled.” She eyed your butchered stitching. “Not a slight on your abilities, of course. Spoken from a place of love.”

“You can mock me all you want when we break fast, sister.” You toss her a wet washcloth. “Make haste and get the headboard. I’ll deal with the floor.”

“I merely jest.” She replied, rounding the bed beside the body.

As she approaches the unconscious man and freezes. The cloth falls from her hand and you hear a sharp intake of breath. Startled, you jump up from your knees.

“Hells, are you hurt?” You turn, expecting to see a splinter or bruise. Alas, Euphemia just stood shell shocked, staring down towards the body. You looked at the man yourself, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Euphemia leaned closer to the body and swept the hair from his face. “I’ve seen this man’s portrait before.” She crouched beside him, studying his features. “It was in a museum of art from other nations.” Closing her eyes, she recounted the museum. “So this must be…” Euphemia turned back to you, mystified. “This is the Viscount of Waterdeep.”

You stare at her. “Who?”

“Lord Gale Dekarios.”

Author's Note:

thanks for reading! I really appreciate it :>

do you have a preference whether the full fic should use y/n or tav? (or give the reader a nickname of my choice while still technically being y/n or tav)

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Round 1 Side B

ThatchIzou edit was made by @cloneraid

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Thatch x Izou:

I still need to make a Thatch outfit to match your Izou :P (be glad I forgot before Comic Con) (Mod: yes, this is very much meant towards me. Other than this, no propaganda was submitted)

Propaganda for Shachi x Penguin:

They may be underrated characters with very little screen time, but you can see that they clearly are affectionate with each other (ex: hugging in the manga) and also speaking at the same time, sharing thoughts, and beyond that, they grew up together. They've clearly known each other for a long time and typically work together very well. They are a package deal, you cannot separate them <3

Two idiots with one braincell/ two bros sitting on each other laps because they're gay / it's not gay if it's the homie

Law officiated their marriage fr

They're overcompensating for how gay they are for each other and everyone can tell

(Headcanons included) Everyone who likes a cute younger brother aura X a serious Tsundere older brother aura would love this ship! Shachi and Penguin know each other before they even met Law. I think their parents are on good term since they went to the beach together. I like to think that they knew each other since birth. They are both very close, and inseparable since forever. And it would be cute to think that the both of them only has each other. A cute and shy Penguin being best friend with a fun and exciting Shachi (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)♡ They both survived the tsunami together. And since Penguin was the oldest one. He would feel like he had the responsibility to protect Shachi. Big brother aura Penguin! He loves Shachi so much that he would do anything to protect him… They are very close for a long time because they knew each other's blood type and Shachi invited Penguin to stay at his uncle's house. ✨But of course, the uncle and aunt were abusive. Since Penguin thought that he had to protect Shachi at all cost. Penguin would always be the one to receive most of the physical abuse. Shachi would be a crybaby and cry everytime he sees Penguin in pain. But Penguin would always say that he was okay. (skipping to growing up) there's also that time where a bomb exploded. Instead of worrying about themselves, they cared about the other person more ✨I think it was Penguin would called out for Shachi?Then, there was the fighting scene on swallow island where ShachiPen fought the enemy together. I like to imagine the both of them already liking each other since their younger age. Especially Shachi. Shachi who had been protected during his childhood by Penguin decided to become stronger for him. Because of INK, my favorite artist, that drew a lot of ShachiPen, I have their version of ShachiPen stuck in my head. And it also became my headcanon. Shachi became a lot stronger than Penguin and it is now his turn to protect him. Hehehe. After Savaody I like to imagine that something bad happened to one of them. Then they finally confessed their love. ♡(ŐωŐ人)

[longtimenospooning-luci]

Azalea's, Camelia's and Rhododendron's Chapter Three

Summary: Life always seemed to throw bullshit your way. A bullshit childhood, a bullshit family with the exception of your older brother, a bullshit bodyguard team because of aforementioned older brother… To say you were tired of it would be an understatement. You just wanted to bask in your self-made richness as a bestselling author, all by yourself being the key point, and pretend you're not doing it to avoid your trauma. But now you have to deal with seven incredibly hot, stubborn and frustrating men forcibly barging into your life against both of your wishes and ruining your peaceful silence. So, if they were going to be hardheads, you'll be one right back.

Pairing: Bts x reader, featuring older brother Bang Chan and a dickhead ex to be revealed later on.

Chapter Warnings: Dickhead Do-Yun talking about the deal, cursing, brief mention of throwing up, implication of abuse, now all of the boys are guilty babies who don't know how to apologize.

Taglist Form

Word Count: 2.5k

Ya'll know that one Elmo meme where he's just standing there in a pit of fire with his arms out and the :] face?

Yea that was your mind right now with Do-Yun's ugly mug right in front of you.

Y/N who? She gone. Exe has stopped working. Windows File error with the deep 'DUN' to go with it and the infinite pop-ups. Brain has said 'peace out homie!' The ice-cream has vacated the waffle cone to disappointingly go splat on the sidewalk if you get my drift.

Surprisingly, it's Taehyung who first notices something is wrong. You've frozen up mid step like you did the morning of the incident, but what really piques his interest is that Namjoon reacts like that too.

There's an honestly fugly looking creep standing in their way to the valet curb and the two of you are staring the clown down like he's the Boogie Man. If only Taehyung knew he wasn't that far off in that assessment. Since he stopped to observe the odd behavior, Jimin stopped too, and that caused a domino effect. The six of them watching the weird three way showdown, no one moving or breaking the silence until Creepy McCreep decides to do just that.

"Y/N darling, how are you? It's been so long…" They find the way you jump and recoil into yourself at his voice extremely odd. But what shocks them is Namjoon moving in front of you, shielding your figure behind his back.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut and go about your business." Namjoon grits out the words, his hands in fists at his sides. The boys have been with each other for a long time, it's hard to make Namjoon angry, and yet here he is looking ready to bash this dudes face in. They are completely perplexed by the situation, but if their leader is angry over the presence of a stranger related to a client, then they know the situation is serious.

"Oh, what's this? Y/N, love have you replaced me? Surely you haven't stooped so low while I've been away?" the Cheshire grin on his face gives off bad vibes in waves, they notice the way he eyes Namjoon like the dirt on his shoes, and they don't like it. He's practically feeling you up with his gaze and not a second more of hesitation is taken as they move into action, using their bodies to wall you into their formation and out of sight. They see the way you're shrinking further, and they really don't like it, your spitfire IDGAF confident attitude has disappeared completely. The change unsettles them and as much as the other morning was a shitshow they'd rather have that version of you than this one.

Namjoon turns his head slightly to the side, murmuring calm assurances to you, and then quickly locks eyes with the boys. It's the look he always gives them when they need to take extreme measures to ensure a threat doesn't get near a client, and they mentally steel themselves.

Coincidentally, or maybe even unfortunately, Jungkook and Yoongi's positions are to flank the sides of their clients. Which means they have to walk angled inwardly at you and keep a hand on your arm or back. When Jungkook places a hand on your bicep he drops it as if you burned him, your whole body had flinched at his touch. Yoongi takes note of this and they quickly share a glance, he holds out his hand for you to see and slowly moves it to the middle of your back. When you don't flinch, Jungkook does the same and replaces his hand lightly on your arm.

During this whole ordeal the douche in front of them has been talking shit, trying to get your attention. Getting increasingly frustrated when he notices you aren't paying attention anymore and neither is Namjoon. The leader had been watching the boys adjust in order to move, waiting for their nods, tuning the prick out completely in favor of watching your mental state. That all stops when the next words come tumbling out of the assholes mouth, and Namjoon isn't the only one who looks like he wants to commit murder.

"Did daddy dearest fetch a good price for you with this one? I can't imagine got paid nearly as much as I would have given. Or did mommy do it in his stead since you threw your tantrum and got him thrown in jail before our wedding?" You snapped your head up in anger at the mention of your parents, your eyes swirling with hatred for the man before you.

Jungkook being the hothead he is tried to step away from you to go give the bastard a nice right hook, he certainly didn't like you but hearing the implication that this sicko tried to buy you makes him see red. Jin has to grab the neck of his shirt to stop him, much like the rest of them he'd love to let the youngest wreak havoc but they have a professional reputation to uphold. However, this was the perfect opportunity for you to slip out of the human wall while they were focused on him, snatching the retractable metal baton strapped to Jungkook's belt in the process and flicking your wrist to extend the bar.

Your gait is powerful as you stalk toward the man, decked out in thousands of dollars worth of luxury brands that make you look like a goddamn Amazon Queen. Yoongi thinks to himself that he would actually pay good money to watch you beat the shit out of the guy, but he really doesn't want to get fired from the company for letting a client use one of their weapons to hurt someone. He resigns to let Namjoon stop you though, having half a mind to hope he does and the other half hoping he doesn't.

However, Hoseok is the one who ends up stopping you as you raise your arm to strike the now cowering man. You whip your head with a fire in your glare at the culprit of your halted movements, standing tall next to you with a hand wrapped around your wrist. He says nothing as he levels your stare and it strangely calms your ire, as if you know Hoseok won't let him off even if he did stop you. The hand gripping your wrist moves up to grab the baton and you let him take it from your grip, his other arm comes around in front of you to guide you behind him as he shifts his stance to face the coward in front of you.

"Like my leader said, I suggest you shut your mouth and scurry along like the rat you are. If I hear so much as another word out of your mouth I won't hesitate to lay your ass out right here on this sidewalk. Do I make myself clear?"

It's incredibly satisfying watching the fear flush through Do-Yun's face at Hoseok's words, and you think for now you'll take this as a stepping stone to retribution. Your bodyguard steps away from your ex without bothering to wait for a response and places a hand on your wrist again, pulling you along to the car with the rest of the boys in tow. The ride home is just as silent as the ride into town, but strangely no one feels awkward or the lingering feelings of hatred from the other day.

You rupture the silence when Yoongi pulls the SUV into the pristine garage of your home.

"Namjoon, I'm going to assume from your behavior earlier that you figured it out, and I really don't have the energy to deal with my brother's overprotectiveness right now. Could you call him sometime today and ask him to contact our lawyer? And don't let him storm over here please I might actually go insane if he does." Your voice is calm and even as you speak and everyone has their attention focused on you, not bothering to make a move to get out of the car yet.

The look he gives you is full of something Jin would describe as guilt and maybe even despair, simply nodding his head and moving to open the door. Namjoon knows something serious about you and he obviously failed to let the others in on the secret, and as they all make their way into the manor they decide they'll get it out of him whether he likes it or not.

They all stay silent in the mansion foyer until the soft click of your bedroom door closing can be heard. Jungkook pipes up first, a bite to his tone. "You wanna tell us what the fuck just happened, hyung?" Jin would normally scold him for speaking like that to his elders but at this point he can't deny it isn't warranted. He almost expects Namjoon to fight them on this and refuse to say anything, but he simply lets out a sigh and asks them to follow him. They spread out in the spacious guest room that has been claimed by their leader, watching him as he gathers some files out of a desk drawer and walks over to sit at the chaise; putting the manila folders down on the surface of the coffee table in front of him.

"It's not much and it's not definite but it wasn't that hard to connect the dots after witnessing her behavior that morning." Jimin gets up as the man speaks, taking a file and opening it as he returns to his spot, flipping through the printed article headlines one by one as a feeling of horror trickles through him as each piece falls into place.

He looks up to lock eyes with Jungkook and then Yoongi, swallowing down the bile in his throat, addressing the leader without moving his gaze from his two brothers. "How long have you known?" The shake in his voice sets the others on edge, so Taehyung takes the folder out of Jimin's hands to look at the information in question. "I started looking into it that night, It took me the whole night to put all of the pieces together. I had to dig into news archives to figure out how it started." The sharp inhale Taehyung takes as he listens to Namjoon's response while looking at the papers makes Jimin think he's figured it out too.

By this point Jungkook being the person he is, has grown tired of the cryptic words and the pale faced expressions of shock from his hyungs. He gets up and snatches one of the folders for himself, ignoring the protests of the others that he shouldn't open it and look. Standing by the table he turns each page with more aggression than the last, his eyes flitting across the words in a frenzy, until eventually he lets the papers drop out of his hands. A crawling vine of guilt has grown its way up his body and wraps itself around his throat, his hands shake at the breathless feeling it gives him and the constriction of his chest aches in ways he's never felt before.

In his turmoil the rest of the boys with the exception of Yoongi have passed along the file Jimin grabbed and look at the last one out with apprehension and pity. The man in question gets up from his spot at the end of Namjoon's bed and picks up the stapled stack of papers Jungkook dropped. He reads through them without any emotions on his face and steady hands, only cracking his exterior when he looks up to Namjoon. "That was him, wasn't it?" The lifelessness in his voice sends a chill through the others. The leader responds to his hyung with a soft 'yes' and Yoongi feels like his knees are going to give out.

With a nod of his head he turns on his heel and makes his way out of Namjoon's room, each step he takes in the hallway towards his room the grip of his hand on the papers intensifies. Upon closing the door he casts the papers to the floor and nearly runs to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his body wretches the acid in his chest out into the bowl. The guilt settles in his chest like a cement chain around his heart and he doesn't know how he's going to face you again now that he knows what he does.

Downstairs Jungkook is in a similar state and he doesn't know what to do with himself. He's regarded you with the same attitude he developed in your brothers office since he was told you were going to be their client. Never in his career has he come across a client like you, much less a heiress like you that didn't fit the mold he knew so well. Thinking he could speak to you that way in order to get the contract nullified was now his biggest regret, he expected you to react like any other pompous rich kid would at the first signs of disrespect from someone under them.

Amidst the internal turmoil in the house and the hushed whispers of the remaining members in Namjoon's bedroom as he speaks to your brother on the phone, you slip out of your room and into the office. You keep one of your favorite books on the second floor shelves, preferring to have easy access to it in order to climb into the circular window nook. Its outfitted with a memory foam cushion that rises a quarter of the way up the sides, set onto the wall like a normal cushion would be stapled into a chair or indoor bench. Your favorite fluffy blanket sits in one of the carved out cubbies in the upper part of the circle, you climb in and grab it after finding the book, laying back against the large square pillow and propping your feet up against the crescent shaped wall.

You open the book to your favorite page, letting the words in the poem wash over your feelings, settling your mind into the clarity you crave. You let yourself get lost in the stanzas, knowing come tomorrow you'll have to face the men in your home who undoubtedly now know one of your darkest secrets. Closing your eyes for a second, the visage of your fathers face warped in hatred and disgust flashes in your mind. Jolting up, you despise the fear that slithers its way into your chest, squeezing the air out of your lungs. Life really won't let you have a goddamn break will it?

I wish I could cry as easy as the sky. The tears don’t come as easily now. They’re stuck inside my soul.

It’s empty and I am afraid Do you feel the emptiness? I guess it’s my own fear from within. I should be brave and battle that fear but it’s a war that’s gone on for so damned long. I’m tired.

The children are growing and the tears in my eyes are flowing. Missing the growth of them is like missing the seasons change, missing the roses that bloom in spring and missing snowflakes falling in winter. How many more years do I have to miss? The years won’t stop for me or for them and why should they? They will continue to blossom and bloom and my life will continue to stand still like a silent pond.

- The Noonday Demon, Andrew Solomon

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Taglist: @emu007 @childfmoonn @candied-lavender @silscintilla @sporadicfuryface @definetlythinkimanalien @btsizlyfe @yoongiigolden @chim-possible @its-g-nm-stuff @ayoo-bangtan @janiva @devilsbooksworld @backinblack1967 @missseoulite @miraxflor @memerswrites

[kationella]

What would it look like if Persona 1 and 2 had social links?

Honestly, I don't see how Social Links would work in those two; not because I'm not interested in the idea, I would love to hang out more with everyone, but because of the storytelling.

Let's say that it's hard to hang around the city with your homies when your entire school has been teleported to another dimension. Plus, I'm 60% sure P1 takes place in the span of two days (three if I'm pushing it). The only way would be to add extra content or a DLC where you can just fool around out of the main story.

I can see Social Links being implemented in P2, though. The game gives glimpses of possible subplots you could help to solve, like the entire Masked Circle's parental issues, for example. Aside from the joke that the game takes place in Tatsuya's Worst Day Ever, the story allows for one to imagine it happening in the span of one year, like P3-5. Both P1 and P2 would need for new characters to be made to fill all the Arcana spots.

As for who would be the Social Links, well:

P1

Magician: Yuka Ayase

Priestess: Maki Sonomura

Empress: Yukino Mayuzumi

Emperor: Naoya Toudou

Hierophant: Kei Nanjo

Chariot: Masao Inaba

Justice: Hidehiko Uesugi

Death: Reiji Kido

Judgement: Eriko Kirishima

Other possible Social Links could include Takami, Tadashi, Tamaki, Kenta, maybe Chisato or Igor himself (he deserves a Social Link, at least allow him to have one in P1). Maybe Yoshino too? I just want her to have more spotlight due to the Yoshino-is-Chidori's-mom theory.

P2: IS

Lovers: Lisa Silverman

Fortune: Jun Kurosu (I imagine this one to rank up automatically with Jun as Joker up until you save him at Rank 4 or 5. After that it becomes a normal Social Link. Jun already gets his backstory and other stuff explained in the normal game)

Death: Eikichi Mishina

Tower: Anna Yoshizaka

Moon: Maya Amano

Sun: Tatsuya Suou

Other possible Social Links could include Todoroki/Kuzunoha, Trish, Noriko, Ixquic, Chika and Philemon (I want this one so bad. Especially since it would be impossible to have him as a Link in EP, since he can't properly manifest anymore).

I didn't include Katsuya since their brotherly issues don't get resolved until EP. Plus, I wanted to keep the Childhood Problems vs. Adulthood Problems from IS and EP.

P2: EP

Justice: Katsuya Suou

Hanged Man: Baofu

Star: Ulala Serizawa

Moon: Maya Amano

Sun: Tatsuya Suou (same with Jun in the last one, Tatsuya's Link ranks up automatically up until he joins the party. We already got a taste of his relationship with Maya in the last game)

Other possible Social Links could include Shiori, Okamura, Lieutenant General Zula (cat) and the Time Count (as a parallel to Philemon's). Instead of attending school you have to show up to work. Maybe a new Link could be one of Maya's co-workers?

Finally, I think it could be cool if depending on which Social Links you completed in IS are the individuals who remember the Other Side in the EP epilogue.

Thanks for the ask!

[ziracona]

Hello! I have always believed that Michael needed better doctors and good treatment. He was simply billed as "Evil". Sometimes I think that at that time they were unaware or ignorant of mental illness, and that is why Michael did not recover. I wish it had been treated better. I would like to know your opinion about it ;v;

Oh, absolutely. Michael is a very tragic character, and what happened to him was almost entirely Loomis’ fault, secondarily the system and his parents’, and like onyl 0.8% his own. It’s true that mental health aid has historically been really bad in most places, and even today treatment and acceptance—even in specifically medical settings—tend to be abysmal. Of course people knew less than they do now about how psychological stuff works, but bias, cruelty, and superstition as well as a system that enables and even to degrees outright encourages that is to blame for the awful treatment people woth mental illnesses and personality disorders faced and continue to face, not just a lack of knowledge, and the history is really heavy and awful to look over. : ( It’s horrific some of the things doctors have done and do to people just trying to get help.

Like, in Michael’s case, we’ve had a name and understanding of psychosis since the 1800s. Canonically, by the time the poor kid was six years old, he was hearing voices telling him to do bad things to people. He told his parents, seeking help, and they did nothing to help him—just told him it was his imagination—despite knowing hos grandfather had suffered the same symptoms. If they had only taken him seriously and given him therapy and possibly medication too, Judith never would have died. (I am not goong to say it every time, but all this information is official canon) Michael’s reason for killing his family members is wanting the vocies talking to him to be quiet, because it’s agonizing. If you’ve ever had intrusive thoughts (stuff like “pull into oncoming traffic” or “break that and see what happens” and such that don’t actually compell or force you to do it at all, and are always things you as a person deeply do not want to do, but nevertheless are really annoying or distressing to hear in your head), imagine that cranked up to 1000, endless and constant, but from voices that seem to come from around you instead of in your head. Especially as a young child, with no understanding what is happening to you, this would be incredibly scary and distressing—doubly so when dismissed by your parents, whose sole job is supposed to be to love and protect you.

The voices say they’ll be quiet if Michael kills Judith, so Halloween night, he does. Important to note here Michael is recently six years old at the time, which developmental psych literally is not old enough to have a complete understanding what death itself is, let alone complex morality. You /cannot/ be evil at six, you simply don’t have a complex enough understanding of right and wrong or of consequence to /be/ evil. Also at this age, usually kids see death as a vague concept, but one that applies to people they don’t know only, not to them and their loved ones. In Halloween 1978, immediately after stabbing Judith, Michael looks away while he keeps doing it, and his breathing speeds up in a scared way. He barely looks at the body, and immediately goes down stairs to wait for his parents—probably for them to fix it—and does nothing to flee or hide what he’s done. He looks traumatized when they take his mask off. (Lots of little notes here like that Judith when she sees him seems annoyed but not very, and when he attacks her, tries to shield herself and call to him to stop, rather than fleeing or fighting back, which [appealing instead of fight or flight] is pretty exclusively something you only would use if attcked by someone you are on good terms with—I mean, Michael is six—if Judith had /tried/ to fight back, no way she would have died—so there’s less than nothing to indicate they had anything but a loving familial sibling relationship. But if I list all these I’m gonna launch into my six page Michael Myers meta so I will speed through the rest.)

Anyway! Sorry, I have many feelings. About...everything. Including Michael for sure. So, immediately after killing Judith, Michael stops talking. He also shows other psychosis and trauma readily recognized side effects, like catatonia, slowed movement. In Halloween 1978c Dr. Loomis claims he tried to treat Michael for eight years, then spent another seven trying to keep him locked up because he realized he was evil. This is a /blatant/ lie, as in film canon Loomis, by Michael’s review hearing I believe four months in? Six or less for sure, I believe it is four. Loomis has /already/ become convinced Michael is a demon in human form, faking his symptoms, and itching to kill again. The other doctors think Loomis is crazy, as does the other doctor who examines Michael, but they’re awful people so they let him stay Michael’s doctor anyway, even though they refuse to move him to Litchfield maximum security. By this time only a few months in, Loomis is canonically also threatening the six year old in his care and constantly telling him he is an evil being who wants to get out and terrorize again. (Also, I will die enraged the sentance Michael gets for killing Judith is to remain locked in solitary in a sanitorium for /15/ years, until he turns 21, at which point he will be tried as an adult for murder??? The fuck?? You CANNOT charge a 6 year old’s crime in adult court! ‘Tried as an adult’ is meant for like, when a 17 year old dismembers their family and eats them! It’s for particularly heinous crimes, committed by someone /very/ close to being legally an adult, and that /only/. The idea of waiting fifteen years to try someone as an adult for something done at age six is laughable and sick).

Okay this is already long, I get carried away rip. Uhhh, anyway, yeah. In Smith’s Grove, Michael is visited by mom and Laurie once, then never sees any of his family again, because his dad hates him and forbids the others—finds out because Laurie is four and talks that they went /one/ time, and physically beats four year old Laurie for mentioning his name until she trauma blocks out ever having had a brother. From then on, Michael spends /fifteen/ years and all the dest of his developmental stages of childhood in a sanitorium with Dr. Loomis—a man who on wild religious superstition grounds assumes by his own admission /on sight/ that Michael is evil, and no other human contact. According to canon, Michael spends at least four hours of /every/ day with Loomis, his /only/ human contact, who threatens him, promises to stop him, and endlessly barrages him with “You’re evil, you’re not human, you want to kill again, I /will/ stop you,” and nothing else. He also canonically keeps Michael overdosed on a type of antipsychotic that, while a fine drug if used normally, if overdosed can deeply worsen symptoms, and can cause permanent brain damage.

Honestly, if a six year old is exposed yo major trauma, none of their issues are explained, legitimized, or believed, and almost all of their developmental stage is spent with endless voices they don’t know the cause of suggesting murder and violence, one human being and authority figure telling them over and over and over for fifteen years with no other constant in their life or human contact period that they are a demon in human form who wants to kill and is /going/ to do so again...? How else was that story ever going to end? I’ve said it before, but that’s beyond conditioning; it’s lab growing a human child to one day walk out and murder Laurie Strode with a large kitchen knife.

I stand by Halloween is a greek tragedy more than a slasher, and Michael and Laurie are both victims. He’s the Asterios, she’s the Ariadne. Loomis the Minos, the real villain. (Or the Poseidon choose your poison).

Anyway, I 100% agree! If he had just gotten help from his parents, Judith would have never died. If he’d had good doctors, none of the events of 1978 would have come to pass, or anything after it. Loomis single-handedly causes the deaths in 1978 himself through years of cruelty, and bigoted bias towards a small child in his care who needed his help, not his abuse, but he chose to break as much as he possibly could despite his responsibilities as a doctor, an adult, and a human.

If you’re interested, I did a canon-deep-dive character study short story on Michael on AO3! Halloween is such a sad story but it’s fascinating. God, poor Michael and Laurie deserved so much better than they got. It’s a testament to Michael’s character that even after 15 years of Dr. Loomis, he really only kills his intented target(s) in search of quiet from the voices, and anyone who sees him/would be a threat, and not other people. Makes no attempt to kill any of the kids in Halloween 2018, and only kills Bob when he literally opens the door to his hiding spot and Michael is found and Bob becomes a threat to him. In H20, after Michael has had 20 years on his own, you get arguably the least brutal Michael, who intentionally passes on killing the mother and child, and the security guard he walks right past, because they don’t see him and thus he doesn’t /have/ to. Halloween II is less intentionally avoiding, but even then he still does the same multiple times too, like with the old lady making a sandwich, or the scene in the incubator room. Anyway he desevered better fuck Loomis all my homies hate Loomis.

[xo-phile]

Tides (M!Mer x Fem!Reader) p1

╔═════ ∘◦ ☟ ◦∘ ══════╗

Excerpt: “Listen,” he started, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure there are plenty of people who have lived next to a body of water their entire lives and are still afraid of it.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so afraid of the water if it stopped producing such obnoxious mermen.”

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: thalassaphobia, emetophobia (just in case, no actual vomiting), situational anxiety, almost drowning

Author’s Note: Hope you all enjoy! If you did, please harass me to finish part 2!

Part 2

╚═════ ∘◦ ☝︎ ◦∘ ══════╝

༻✦༺　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Morning light filtered through your windows, casting shadows of tree branches onto the walls of your art studio. The room was quiet except for the soft scratching of your charcoal against the rough paper of your giant sketchbook and Teddy, your massive Newfoundland water dog, snoring by your feet. You stopped your sketching to rifle through a stack of photographs that you used for reference of the old church in the woods.

The photographs showed a lone brick building, church bell and all, that would have been unobtrusive in design if it weren’t for the fact that it was the only building in the middle of Saggitaria Woods for miles. The chapel’s warm brick exterior and defined architecture stood in stark contrast the surrounding lush greenery. You couldn’t forget the way the trees seem to slowly close in on the stone intruder, while the building stood stoically, seeming to welcome nature’s embrace.

When you looked back up at your sketch, the lines you scratched onto the page didn’t evoke the same balanced contrast. It just looked like trees and a building with a cross. You sighed exasperatedly and threw down your stack of photographs with a hard thump. Teddy awoke with a startle at the sound, and let out a disgruntled huff, looking up at you with disdain.

“Sorry, buddy,” you laughed crouching down to ruffle his massive brown head. The Newfie lolled his gigantic pink tongue in a doggy smile and leaned into your hands in forgiveness. Outside, the sound of a boat’s motor approached and cut off. Teddy jumped up to gallop out the door, with you snatching a cardigan off your chair to follow behind. From your porch, you saw Romero and Willow, old childhood friends, waving excitedly on the dock. Squealing in delight, you broke out into a run down the path from your home to the wooden lake-front dock.

“My two favorite gremlins!” you cried excitedly throwing yourself into Willow’s arms.

The sound of two girls screeching in delight made Teddy start to bark excitedly. Romero,  a six-foot-nine lycanthrope, picked the both of you up for a massive bear hug, swinging you two around like rag-dolls. Seeing your childhood best friends’ faces for the first time since their wedding made you realize how long you had been cooped up with just Teddy for company.

“What are you guys doing here?” you asked, “I thought you guys were gonna move into the new house after you got back from your honeymoon.”

“Well we were, but Dresden asked us to check on you,” Romero said, bent down giving Teddy what looked like the world’s best tummy rub. You looked at Willow in confusion and she rolled her eyes.

“He said he hadn’t seen you take the ferry in like a month,” she said accusingly, arms crossed over her chest, “We wanted to make sure that Teddy didn’t make a snack out of you.” At the mention of his name and the word “snack”, Teddy tilted his head comically. It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Well you can tell Dresden that I’m up to eyeballs in projects right now and that he doesn’t need to worry.” Willow and Romero gave each other a look before turning back to you.

“How about you tell him yourself? We’re meeting him at the buoy, tomorrow. Think of it as a welcome back party for us,” Willow offered.

The thought of being out in the middle of the lake made your stomach dropped. Willow must have seen the look in your eyes and grabbed your hands to hold them comfortingly.

“It’ll be completely safe, I promise. We won’t go swimming or anything. We’ll just hang out like old times,” she assured. You gave an awkward smile.

You knew your friends were just looking out for you.  They constantly ribbed you for your workaholic nature. If you had a dime for all the times they joked about you painting nature more than being in it, you probably wouldn’t have to paint again for the rest of your life.

“I don’t know guys… The gallery opening is coming up soon and I’m nowhere near where I need to be in the collection to be goofing off,” you tried with a sheepish shrug. You were lucky enough that your online presence grabbed the attention of a curator willing to display a series of never before seen works. The idea of blowing this amazing opportunity, whispered menacingly in the back of your head.

Romero looked at you for a moment and then smirked.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Micah was gonna show us his new boat…” he mentioned casually.

At the mention of Micah, you felt your ears warm at the tips. Willow side-eyed your reaction and added,“He’s been asking about you, you know…”

“Micah?“ you asked skeptically, "What does his girlfriend have to say about that?”

Willow rolled her eyes in response.

“Who cares about her? Micah said she’s not coming. Homies only outing,” she responded waggling her eyebrows.

These little shits, you thought. She knew that was the final nail in the coffin so with a groan, you acquiesced and smiled in defeat. Willow and Romero cheered in victory while Teddy ran around in circles excitedly.

༻✦༺　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

With your eyes closed, all you could hear was the sound of Romero’s boat, Lobo del Lago, cutting through the waters of Lake Obsidian. The wind whipped past your face and through your hair as the Lobo navigated through rogue waves. When you finally opened your eyes, the sierra mountains that surrounded Lake Obsidian were in clear view. Surrounding redwood forests made the scenery look like something right out of an old postcard you’d find at a gift shop.

Lake Obsidian stretched out for miles around the boat, the water glittering in the afternoon sun. For most people, being out on a boat with friends in gorgeous weather would have made for a perfect day. Unfortunately for you, being this far out on the lake and not knowing how deep below Lake Obsidian reached, made your stomach flutter. Instead, you focused on the horizon of the lake and the surrounding forests passing by in the distance to distract yourself. Next to you was Teddy, who, unlike yourself, stuck his head over the side of the boat, mouth open wide, his tongue and ears flapping in the wind.

At least one of us is enjoying themselves.

"You doing okay, sweets?” Willow asked, sitting down next to you. Her hazel-blonde hair was wind-swept perfection and she looked like an old movie star in her giant sunglasses and strapless one-piece. You, on the other hand, opted for jean shorts and comfortable flannel, not exactly fit for swimming or water sports. You saw in the reflection of Willow’s sunglasses your hair was sticking up in all different directions from the wind and your complexion was looking green. She handed you a bottle of ginger ale and you took it gratefully.

“So far, so good. As long as I don’t think about the bottomless infinity of this godforsaken lake, I think I’ll make it,” you replied, trying to suppress a grimace.

“Well, you’ll have a pretty good distraction soon enough,” she chuckled, giving you a knowing look.

When you felt Lobo start to slow, you looked up to see a cruiser, Siren, approaching. Its pilot, Micah, a sandy blonde Minotaur, was at the helm, waving excitedly. The Siren circled some laps around Lobo causing the breaking waves to rock the boat. The motion caused you to clutch at the railing, knuckles turning white. Teddy was barking madly next you at motion of the boat, excited to see a familiar face.

“Hey Micah, stop showing off!” Romero yelled from the helm as the Siren finally slowed to a stop.

“Sorry, Rome,” the hulking Minotaur laughed from a distance, “Just made some upgrades and she drives like a dream!”

When both boats finally anchored, you willed your face to not look completely sea-sick. Micah hopped over to Lobo as gracefully as a 285-lb Minotaur could and went to give hugs to Willow and Romero. When he came to you, he lifted your whole body effortlessly, into a warm embrace.

“Hey stranger,” Micah smiled infectiously. You couldn’t help but grin back despite the anxiety in your stomach rising even further. You weren’t sure if it was seeing your childhood crush or the fact the you were five feet in the air, rocking in a boat. When he put you down, you took several sips of ginger ale. Teddy started hopping on his hind legs, pawing at Micah, wanting to be carried like you were. Micah just laughed and lifted the 145-lb dog into a hug like he weighed nothing at all.

“I was starting to get worried!” Micah said as he smiled down at you. His large figure was so broad and tall, he blocked the bright light of the afternoon sun from your eyes. He set Teddy down for him to run off somewhere to get his toy.

“You know how it is,” you tried sheepishly, “the work gets away from me…”

“Well it’s good to take a break once and a while,” he said with a big furry palm warm on your shoulder, “It’s nice to have the whole gang together again.”

“Not the whole gang. Looks like somebody wants to show up fashionably late,” Romero said working on unloading paddle boards.

“No worries, let’s just get out on the water while we wait.” Micah started to take off his shirt to reveal a thick, sturdy torso and giant, muscular shoulders. You pretended to look for Teddy instead of openly staring.

“You gonna come out with us? My board can probably hold both of us…” Micah offered with a smile.

“Uuuuh…” you started to say before Willow cut you off.

“Sorry Mic! She’s gotta help me take some pictures for Instagram first,” Willow lied, hooking her arm through yours. Micah’s face fell for a moment.

“Maybe later then?”

“I actually forgot my bathing suit today,” you tried without looking at his eyes. Micah gave you a consoling smile and a shrug.

“No worries. Maybe another time, soon. Gotta make sure you still remember those lessons,” he said with a wink.

Micah had given you paddle boarding lessons in shallower waters before so there was no reason for him to think you couldn’t be out on the water. The words warmed something in your chest, but you felt bad for lying to your friend.

“Thanks, Willow, seriously,” you confessed gratefully to your friend after the boys were out on their paddle boards. You watched Micah’s powerful back flex as he pulled himself through the rocking waves on his board. You wondered what it would feel like under your hands.

“No worries, sweet-cheeks. I was serious about those Insta pics though,” she laughed. The two of you took turns taking pictures in the brilliant, sunny day. The scenery was no doubt, gorgeous, perfect for would-be social media influencers and artists, like yourself. Today, however, you promised your friends you wouldn’t bring work with you, so you ended up lounging on the platform on the back of Lobo, throwing a tennis ball out into the water so Teddy could swim after it. You were on something solid and the waters were somewhat calm, so you were actually able to enjoy yourself.

You were about the throw the ball again, when Teddy started barking at a form in the water. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a long fishtail shimmer as it swam by. It raced over to where the boys were paddle boarding and you saw Romero’s board shake and flip with him on it. When Romero finally surfaced with his hair plastered to his face, Dresden’s head popped up out of the water howling with laughter.

“Dres, you little shit, I was about to win,” Romero deadpanned.

Micah ended up laughing so hard, he fell off his own board with a gigantic splash. The merman and the Minotaur high-fived, still howling with laughter.

“It’s okay, Dresden,” Willow yelled from the boat, “He desperately needed a bath!”

“Sorry Rome, I’ll make it up to you I promise,” Dresden sniggered. He ducked his head underwater and resurfaced again right in front of you.

“There’s our little recluse! I was beginning to think that monster you kept as a pet ate you,” he said pulling his body halfway out of the water to reveal lean, muscular shoulders and strong arms, toned by years of deep-water swimming. He shook the water out of his dark curly hair like a dog, and sprayed it all over you.

“As always, it’s such a pleasure to see you, too, Dresden,” you greeted sarcastically.

“Oh, you wound me. Be nice, or I might change my mind about your present,” he countered, hazel eyes glittering.

“Presents? Oh, well now you’re a man after my own heart,” you smiled, reaching out your palm with a gimme motion. He pulled a satchel bag that was hung across his broad shoulders and threw them onto the platform next to you. You reached in the to pull out a a flat rock the size of a dinner plate. When you flipped it over, you found a perfectly preserved ammonite, embedded into the stone. The white shell shifted hues in the light as you moved it, turning blue, green, and then orange, opalised by time.

“Dres, this is beautiful…” you gasped, as you ran your fingers over the ridges of the fossil.

“Eh, it’s not big deal,” he shrugged nonchalantly, though his complexion and fins framing his face seemed to warm at your praise.

“What!? I want something pretty too!” Willow came out from behind you to start rifling through the bag herself. She pulled out a giant abalone shell, the mother-of-pearl iridescence shining rainbows across its surface.

“Dibs!” Willow declared before running to hide her newly acquired treasure. You and Dresden looked at each other for a moment, and broke out into chuckles. You looked up to admire how the scales framing his eyes shimmered copper and green as he laughed.

“Guess, Willow likes hers,” you snickered, “Must have taken some effort to find this stuff.”

Dresden watched your hands as you traced the ridges of the ancient fossil.

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” he said and looked up at you through long, dark lashes, “Consider it a reward for coming out today. Figured if you got some positive reinforcement, you’d want to come out with us more often.”

You sighed and looked up at your friend with annoyance. Dresden put his hands up in apologetically, knowing he touched a nerve.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you already know how it is for me,” you retorted trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. You looked over to where Romero and Micah doing backflips off the Siren, Micah’s laughter ringing through the air. As you sat curled on the edge of the platform, you felt a pull in your chest for not being able to fully enjoy the day with him. Dresden saw your look and made a face you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Listen,” he started, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure there are plenty of people who have lived next to a body of water their entire lives and are still afraid of it.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so afraid of the water if it stopped producing such obnoxious mermen.”

“You say obnoxious, others might use the word ‘charming’.”

“Charming, huh? Doesn’t sound like anybody I know…”

“Give me a chance, and maybe I’ll show you what they mean,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ew, who even are you?” you laughed, “Keep talking to me like that and I’m gonna have to bop you one.”

“Oooh, those are fighting words. Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face? Oh… wait…”

You must have given him your meanest glare because when he saw your face he started laughing uncontrollably. He started to float on his back still shaking with laughter, when you got an idea. You took the tennis ball from out of Teddy’s mouth.

“Hey Dres! Heads up!” you called and tossed the neon yellow tennis ball to the merman who caught it swiftly with one hand. He looked down at the ball confused and looked up to see a gigantic mass of brown fur about to land on his face. Dresden’s girlish shriek and the gigantic splash of water made you double over in laughter. You were starting to catch your breath again when a huge form stepped up onto the platform next to you.

“What’s so funny?” Micah asked, watching Dresden tease Teddy into doggy-paddling in circles to chase his precious tennis ball. You stood up quickly and tried to straighten yourself out.

“Ha… it’s nothing, just Dresden being stupid,” you said with a small smile. Micah took a moment to observe your face and your ears warmed under the attention.

“You know… It’s good to see you out with all of us. I get worried about you sometimes,” he remarked, watching Dresden continue to tease Teddy in the water. Your thoughts paused for a moment as a warm feeling bloomed in your chest, heart fluttering like a bird. You liked knowing that he thought about you, even if it was just out of friendly concern.

Shouldn’t you be thinking about someone who was actually your girlfriend?

“I’m used to it,” you replied, “Not all of us can have a doting partner to keep an eye on them.”

Micah seemed to cringe at the reference to his girlfriend.

“Actually, me and Becca broke up…” he confided. You turned your head to look at him in shock. There was a sort of  dejected look in his big brown eyes. The two of you sat in silence and you thought about his bright, beautiful girlfriend…

No… ex-girlfriend…

Becca was a vibrant personality, energetic and friendly. When you were all younger, Micah and every other teenage boy in town couldn’t help but be infatuated with her. The summer you left for university, Micah had finally built up the courage to ask her out. Four years and one art degree later, when you finally returned to your hometown, it seemed like this gorgeous couple were well on their way to getting married. You nursed this crush for years, never entertaining the idea of actually being with Micah because he always seemed just out of reach…

Until now, I guess…

You reached out to grasp his big furry hands with your smaller ones when you saw the sad look on his face.

“Micah, I’m sorry,” you apologized. He gripped your hand in response and smiled a small smile at you.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Things don’t work out sometimes,” he sighed. You both looked at each other for a moment in a silence that stretched out a little longer than was comfortable. You looked down and you were still holding his hand and your palm was starting to sweat. With how hard your heart was starting to beat, your were afraid that he was going to notice your pulse quickening. Your mind raced to fill up the awkward silence with something… anything.

“Hey, you wanna race?” you blurted out before you even thought about the words coming out of your mouth. Before you could register the situation you put yourself in, Micah’s face lit up with a big smile.

“You’re on. Winner has to buy loser a case of beer!” he exclaimed as he went to unload the spare paddle board.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Willow’s gentle voice called your name, snapping you out of your panicked fog. She must have overheard your conversation because she looked just was panicked as you did.

“Hey, um, what’s this about you paddling with Micah?” Willow asked, alarmed. You saw Micah approaching with the boards and paddles.

“I don’t know, Willow, I just blurted it out,” you whispered. Willow looked at you and then at Micah, who was already setting up the boards.

“Okay look, you already know what to do. Micah already taught you. Just don’t look down and you’ll be fine, okay?” Willow coached you before you felt a warm hand pull gently at your wrist.

You barely registered where you were, until a paddle was pushed into your hands and you were standing on the board out in open water. Your eyes were parallel to the horizon the entire time you waited for Micah to push himself out as well, but you couldn’t help but notice how dark the water was below you, stretching down so far, light couldn’t even penetrate it. You’re heart was pounding in your ears.

Somehow, you managed to paddle yourself out and follow Micah on his board, even though you gripped the paddle so tight, your knuckles turned white. Micah turned around to give you a big grin and call your name.

“Better catch up! I can already taste that beer!” He called over his shoulder. You did your best to smile back despite the nausea rising up in your stomach and your heart thumping heavily in your chest.

I will buy you fifty cases of beer if it means I’ll never have to do this ever again, you thought as you moved the paddle mechanically.

You focused on keeping your eyes forward and paddling the way Micah had taught you. It seemed like you were doing okay, too, following Micah’s form toward the designated finish line until a random current caught you and pulled you away from the boats.

Stay calm. Don’t panic. Stay calm. Don’t panic.

Looking up to see the boats getting smaller as you drifted away, you heard a loud buzzing in your ears as you felt panic rise up through your spine. Suddenly, a random wake surged upwards in front of you, causing the nose of your board to tip up and backwards. The last thing you heard was Willow screaming your name and the ringing in your ears reaching a fever pitch before your back hit the water.

You gasped as you sunk and started choking on the water filling your lungs. The sudden chill of the water paralyzed you, even though you did everything you could to will your numb arms and legs to move. The world around you was just about to dim until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you and swiftly pull you to the surface.

When you reached the open air, you started coughing up all the water that you had swallowed. Your hair was pressed flat and wet against your face, blocking your vision, not that you could see, anyway, with the way your head was spinning. You clutched at broad shoulders and felt an arm hook your legs around a waist. A familiar voice- Dresden’s voice was repeating your name.

“I need you breath in and out really slow, okay? We can’t have you hyperventilating. Big breath in. Big breath out.” You breathed slowly like he instructed, your body clinging to his like a blind koala. You felt one arm hold you tightly against a firm torso and a big hand gently brush wet hair, plastered to your face, out of your eyes. He then cradled your cheek, keeping your head still, looking into your eyes with his striking hazel ones. Dresden’s defined jaw was clenched and his eyes were devoid of its usual mischief.

Why so serious?

You giggled a little bit, panic turning into hysterics.

“There she is. Hey, you’re okay. I got you,” he spoke softly, relief in his voice. His vibrant eyes were still flicking back in forth between your own searching for something. For what, you weren’t sure but the funny way his face looked made more giggles bubble up through your chest.

“I don’t think giggling is a symptom of a concussion, so we’re probably good,” the merman observed, “Hold on to my back and I’m gonna swim you back, okay?”

You nodded wordlessly in response and unhooked your legs from around his waist. He twisted around in your arms and started swimming towards Lobo.  Dresden’s powerful arms sliced through the water propelling the two of you forward, but he was careful enough to make sure to keep your head above water. When you approached Lobo, Romero pulled you out of the water and Willow wrapped you up in a thick beach towel. Your fully drenched clothes didn’t help the shiver that wracked your body despite the warm weather. Micah ran up from behind your two friends.

“What happened out there?! Are you okay?” He asked, rubbing your arms furiously over the towel, trying to warm your shaking body. Before you could say anything you heard Dresden’s voice interrupt you from the water.

“She got swept out by a current. When she fell, the undertow caught her. Maybe instead of dicking around, you should have kept an eye on her,” he ground out, angrily. Micah’s eyes flashed to Dresden, anger and confusion bleeding into his face.

“What the fuck, Dres? How is that fair?” Micah retorted, volume of his voice rising.

“Enough!” you yelled before your two friends could start hurling more insults at each other.

Dresden let out a curse and dove under the water, swimming away. Your shoulders drooped and you started to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At the awkward silence around you, you closed your eyes, not being able to stop the tears from welling up. Willow wrapped her arms around you as you cried silently on the way home.

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Through your high windows you could see the light of the waxing moon shining dimly through the redwood trees surrounding your house. You were on your father’s old corduroy couch, wrapped in your thickest cardigan, with Teddy’s big head resting in your lap, softly snoring away.

Willow and Romero insisted on staying the night with you to make sure you were okay after your fall, but you told them you didn’t want to ruin their day more than you already did. When you finally promised that you would go to the neighbors if you felt strange, they took their leave. Hours later, you felt nothing but exhaustion and embarrassment at what happened.

You leaned your head against the cushion, closing your eyes to listen to the lo-fi music playing softly from your laptop. Distantly, if you focused, you could also hear the gentle push and pull of the tides breaking in front of your home.

Your mind drifted to the confusion on Micah’s face when he saw you pulled from the water and grabbed one of the cushions to shove in your face to muffle a groan.

Seriously? What the hell was I thinking?

You then thought about Dresden and the way his voice sounded when he yelled at Micah. Dresden almost always had a confident smile on his face, making crass jokes and pulling pranks. To see him so upset formed a knot in your stomach.

Gently lifting Teddy’s head, you got up from the couch to walk to the art studio. You knew it was too soon to try to start working again, but you needed to feel the charcoal in between your fingertips- to feel like there was at least something  you could control. You found the photograph of the old church and set it up next to your easel, making sure there was enough light on both the blank sketchbook and the reference.

Using the general shape of the building and the mass of foliage surrounding it you started sketching out general locations of where everything was. Then, you started adding in rough detail shaped as a guideline for how to paint. When you looked back at the photograph, though, something felt off. The trees in you sketch didn’t carry the same presence as it did in the photograph.

Is it the proportions? The shading?

You flipped a page to start over, determined to capture the ambience that you felt when you found the hidden church. Again, you sketched the general outline, but started with detailing the church. By the time you managed to sketch out most of the building, something in the proportion was off. You rubbed your charcoal dusted fingers on your forehead, willing away the frustration you felt growing behind your brows.

Before you could throw down your charcoal and call it a night, you heard Teddy whining from the other room. When you rounded the corner, your dog was pawing at the door, eager to get outside. Before you could even fully open the door, his massive form pushed his way out and made a break for the dock, barking ceaselessly into the night. You sighed in exasperation before running after your giant dog to stop him from waking the neighbors.

When you caught up to Teddy, you found him laying on the edge of the dock, nose sniffing at something swimming in the dark depths of the water, tail wagging wildly. Teddy gave another loud bark at a splash and you shushed him.

“Teddy, you’re gonna get us in trouble,” you chided, tuffing at his collar to bring him back inside.

“Gotta say, he’s got a pretty good nose,” came a voice from below the dock that made you yelp in surprise. Dresden swam out into the moonlight and you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Jesus, Dres! Can we keep my near-death experiences to once a day? Thanks,” you breathed, unclenching your fist from your rumpled cardigan.

“Heh, sorry,” he let out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You went to sit at the end of the dock next to Teddy, legs hanging off the edge, toes dipping into the water. Neither of you said a word until you both looked at each other to smile awkwardly. Dresden almost always had something to say, so his silence unnerved you.

“What are doing here so late, Dres?” you asked, breaking the long silence. Dresden floated for a moment worrying his lip between his teeth and then finally spoke.

“I came to check on you…,” he stated, “and to apologize.”

Your brows furrowed and you wrapped your cardigan tighter around your body. You watched him for a moment, observing his face without saying anything.

“So,“ he started, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "Are you doing okay?”

You thought for a moment, stroking the downy fur of Teddy’s ear.

“Yeah, I’m doing okay…” you said, picking your words carefully, “Are you?”

Dresden looked at you in confusion.

“Yeah…? I’m not the one that almost drowned today,” he chuckled, albeit nervously. You let out another deep sigh, this time in exasperation.

“How am I supposed to know? You yell at Micah, who didn’t do anything mind you, and then you just left all mad! I’m not the one that needs an apology, Dresden,” you argued. This time you held his gaze, almost daring him to look away. Dresden did his best to match your stare, but then ran his hands across his face and his hair in frustration.

Before he could get a word in edgewise, you interrupted, “You guys are literally best friends and I already feel bad enough for ruining everybody’s day. I don’t want to be the reason why you two stop talking to each other.” You shifted your weight to lay on your stomach and rest your chin on your crossed arms, not unlike how Teddy looked, next to you. Dresden disappeared beneath the surface of the water and popped up again at the edge of the dock, pulling himself up out of the water enough to be at your to eye level. You pointedly held his hazel gaze until he rolled his and sighed in defeat.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow and apologize. For you. Satisfied?”

Both of you stared at each other for a long moment before sharing a big grin. When you two started snickering like little kids with a secret, a weight lifted from your conscience.

“I never got a chance to thank you for saving me out there,” you said after the soft chuckles you shared subsided, “Thank you. And I appreciate you not telling Micah what really happened.”

Dresden made another incomprehensible face, but you could almost anticipate his next question.

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re afraid of deep water? I doubt he’d care,” he asked, his turn to look you straight in the eye. You looked away as you tried to figure out how to best articulate your response.

“The thing is, is that I care,” you tried, but he just cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“You said it yourself, I’ve lived at Lake Obsidian my entire life, it’s completely irrational!” You buried your face in your arms, thumping your head against the wood deck. “He’ll think I’m a freak for hiding something like that for so long.”

You kept hiding your face in embarrassment and heard a soft curse. Dresden muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”

You lifted your head, “Sorry, what?”

“I’ll help you get over your…” he waved a hand in your general direction and said, “issue.”

You were mildly offended and confused.

“And why would you want to do that?” you asked.

“I’ll be sleep better knowing that the next time you try to impress Micah, you won’t end up at the bottom of the lake. Gods know that Micah’s big ass can’t swim as well as I can,” he concluded.

You flushed bright red at Dresden’s blatant remark.

Was I being that obvious?

“Okay then, let’s do it,” you promised before you could talk yourself out of it. Dresden gave you his signature cocky grin.

“Micah’s really lucky. I’ll see you tomorrow before sunset by Driftwood Beach. Bring a paddle board,” he instructed before disappearing beneath the dark water.

“Good night to you, too…” you muttered as stood up, watching the waxing moon’s reflection ripple in the water.

As you and Teddy walked back up to your house, you replayed the conversation over again in your head. That night you dreamed of a warm hand cradling your cheek and voice distorted by water whispering Micah’s really lucky.

༻✦༺　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

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[zeldanoel]

Precious Things - Bagginshield

Started writing this because I was sad after watching the Hobbit movies last week haha, then I accidently 5,500 words. Also on my ao3 here.

Thorin had exhausted himself digging through gold coins that stank of dragon. He was pale, and his blue eyes, which Bilbo had at least once thought beautiful, were bloodshot and full of a gleaming darkness like the hoard itself. Bilbo found him early one morning sitting on one of the enormous staircases. Thorin's back was to him, and he sat very still, looking off slightly to his left. An ocean of gold sat below him. "Thorin," Bilbo said, and Thorin's head turned slightly, but not enough to look at him. "Did you get any sleep?" "It's not yet night," was Thorin's cold reply. "It was hours ago, when I told you. Remember? And now it's already morning and you--" Bilbo gave a worried sigh and sat down next to him. "Aren't you tired? Thorin." Thorin blinked and looked at Bilbo. His eyes lost a little of their crazed edge. "I am," he admitted, almost smiling, and looked back over the hoard below. The momentary light in his face faded. "But I cannot rest until my kingdom is secure." "But you can," Bilbo said, trying not to let too much desperation creep into his voice. He turned himself more towards him. "And your kingdom is secure. Please. If… if my friendship could be worth a few hours rest, do it for my sake if nothing else." Bilbo tried to smile as Thorin looked at him at that with slightly hazy confusion. "For your sake?" His eyes were almost clearing. He turned more towards Bilbo. "This is all you would ask of me, Master Baggins?"

"And a good meal, if you can stomach it," he replied cautiously. Thorin reached out and squeezed Bilbo's shoulder, his eyes shining now only with tears. Then he leaned down and rested his forehead on Bilbo's other shoulder. His voice when he then spoke seemed to rumble directly into Bilbo's core, making his heart clench and his stomach flip. "Of all the treasures now under this mountain," Thorin said softly, "you are one of the most precious, Bilbo." Bilbo's insides froze painfully. He couldn't smell Thorin, there was only smoke and metal and something inherently dragon-like. Bilbo reached up and touched Thorin's shoulder, almost expecting to feel scales. But no, there were thick layers of cloth. And when Thorin turned his head slightly in response to his touch, the skin of his forehead brushed Bilbo's neck, warm to the point of being feverish. "I don't know if I can find rest," Thorin said softly. "I'll do what I can to help," Bilbo replied.

Bilbo led him up the many stairs to the bedchambers. The one that Thorin had chosen wasn't his original one, but his grandfather's. The king's. The bedpost itself was gold, as were many of the other objects therein. But Bilbo didn't lead him into there, but into Thorin's old room. Thorin had only been through it once since the dragon had left--to sweep up any childhood treasures and valuables and dump them in a heap at the foot of the king's bed. As a result this room was somewhat sparse, drawing light from only the fireplace. It had a strange hominess to it, or maybe it was that old sense of familiarity. My room. Bilbo's old coat was already thrown across the armchair. "Were you in here before?" Thorin asked suspiciously. "I've, uh, slept in here the past few nights," Bilbo said apologetically, "I hope you don't mind." "No," he said honestly. The thought instead warmed him with affection. Bilbo turned down the bedcovers as Thorin shed his outer layers of clothing. "Can I get you anything?" Bilbo asked awkwardly, "oh, maybe some water--" he started for the door. "No!" Thorin said quickly, holding out a hand as though to stop him. "Will you stay with me, instead?" Bilbo blinked at him. His eyes flickered to the bed, and back. "I…? With…?" He gestured a little, but quickly accepted that Thorin really did mean for him to stay in the bed. "Sure. Sure, of course." Tired as he was, Thorin had forgotten momentarily that Bilbo had better manners than a dwarf. A dwarf, if he were uncomfortable, would have refused and perhaps sought a compromise, like sitting in the same room. But Bilbo simply set his blue coat and vest carefully on the armchair by his red one, crossed the room, and crawled into bed next to Thorin. It was like the hobbit radiated an aura of protection and peace for Thorin. Bilbo's presence meant something was going right. Bilbo lay on his back, tucked under the furs and stiffly staring at the ceiling. Thorin was on his side, waiting for the waves of anxiety to completely wash away. "Thank you," Thorin said. He rested his hand on the mattress between them. Bilbo looked over, turned onto his side to face him, and took his hand. "Just sleep," Bilbo said. His little hand disappeared in Thorin's. "One day," Thorin whispered, "I'll be the one to protect you."

-- “I am so sorry,” Thorin managed to say, “that I have led you into such peril…” his voice sounded far away, even to himself. He could barely hear when Bilbo spoke. “No, no, I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them.” Bilbo leaned down and quickly pressed his lips against Thorin’s. Soft and warm--not sensations Thorin would have thought to feel on this wintery peak, with so much of his body torn and bleeding. Bilbo broke back a hair’s breadth. “Please live, Thorin. You have so much to live for.” Thorin blinked at him, dazed. “More… than I knew,” he rasped. Bilbo’s eyes, dark and kind, stared earnestly into his. They were all Thorin could see. He wished he could see, just one more time, Bilbo’s hair golden with sunlight. The sun would shine on him again, without Thorin. He had to be happy without Thorin. He had to go home. “Farewell, Amralime,” Thorin managed to say. “Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a… merrier place.” Even Bilbo’s touch was fading. If only Thorin had just a little more time, he could say more. He could sit with Bilbo under a kindly tree, and learn from him how to find peace. That image felt suddenly quite powerful to him. If Bilbo would stay by his side for just a little while longer… if Thorin could learn from him… “Keep hold…” Thorin whispered, “of my hand.” Thorin’s fingers were all but numb, but there was a pressure against them. “I won’t let go,” Bilbo said. “Stay with me, Thorin. Gandalf!” Thorin closed his eyes. A moment ago, death had been sure. But whether unconsciousness now took him for death or sleep, he had no power to fight against it.

His chest ached, burning with a stab wound. Other places he could feel in his body had been slashed. His entire being ached, no strength left in him to even raise his head. But he could hear things. Voices… was that Bilbo’s voice? He clung to the sound, and almost as soon as he did, it stopped so someone else could speak. Bilbo, he thought desperately, trying to get his mouth to form the words. “Thorin? Thorin, can you hear me?” He was drained. His stomach was sick. His eyes, heavier than lead, slowly opened. Bilbo was standing over him. The canvas ceiling of a tent was above them. Bilbo’s face was clean, perhaps some time had passed. Thorin’s hand twitched, searching for Bilbo’s. “You’re okay, Thorin, you’re going to live, just like I told you.” he smiled as though that would disguise his obvious worry. Thorin could only stare. “Stay,” he breathed out. Bilbo’s face broke. He took Thorin’s hand and held it against his lips. “I’ll stay. I promise.” Good. Thorin’s eyes dropped closed.

He woke again with an empty hand, and slowly opened his eyes. If only his throat weren’t so dry, he could-- He coughed, and pain stopped his breath. There was something wrong, of course there was something wrong, he’d been stabbed through the chest, maybe one of his lungs wasn’t working, he couldn’t breathe. “Thorin! Thorin, just breathe!” He turned panicked eyes to the hobbit at his bedside. Bilbo started propping him up, someone on the other side of him was helping. Tears sprang to Thorin’s eyes. The coughing wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t draw breath-- “Thorin, you can do this. Breathe in. Please.” He took a breath. In his ears it sounded like a death rattle. His next cough cleared his lungs and shot pains through his torso. He whimpered. “Come on, do it again.” Slowly, each breath became easier than the last. “Okay. We’re going to have you drink something now.” That was a dwarf’s voice. He couldn’t give it enough attention to determine which of his company it was. Thorin kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, willing himself not to pass out as they brought a meaty broth to his lips and he drank. They laid him back down. Bilbo took his hand again, watching him anxiously. “It’s no good,” Thorin said hoarsely. “Should’ve… left me.” He felt a tear trace out of his eye. “How could I have?” Bilbo asked fervently. He reached down with his free hand and touched Thorin’s cheek, brushing the tear away. “I couldn’t.” He withdrew his hand and squeezed Thorin’s. “Don’t worry about that now. We’re here now. Just stay with me.” Thorin wondered if he could.

He was running through a forest, a dark one where huge gray branches seemed to grope at him, snagging against his white coat. He had to find a way out. That's what he was searching for, right? He reached a stream. The water in it smelled terrible and stagnant, and moved sluggishly. And Bilbo stood on the other side. A shadow loomed over his shoulder, wielding a shortbow. The shadow aimed at him. Then the dream shifted rapidly. He was the stag, then the hunter aiming at the white stag, and then he was aiming at Bilbo, right between the eyes. No, he had Bilbo gripped by the front of the shirt, lifting him off his feet. You shouldn't have done that, it's bad luck. No one was stopping him. He was throwing Bilbo headfirst off the ramparts. Shouldn't have done that. Bilbo was falling. Thorin had to wake up. If Bilbo hit the ground, he'd be dead. Shouldn't have-- Thorin shouted, and was immediately pulled back into his body. His back was arching on the cot, fire spread across his chest. "Thorin, no!" Bilbo's voice. Bilbo! Thorin reached for him, grabbing for any part he could reach. He ended up with a fistful of Bilbo's coat. Bilbo gripped his shoulders, a weak attempt to keep him down. "Bilbo," Thorin gasped. "Bilbo--you--" he was alive. He was fine. "I'm here, Thorin. You're fine." Thorin breathed hard, wounds stinging. He focused in on Bilbo's worried face. Thorin took a few more breaths, trying to calm down and get rid of his sudden dizziness. He could still feel the dream, how it had been his hands that had nearly slain his friend. "It's okay, Thorin," Bilbo whispered. "You're okay." Thorin heaved another breath and released him, turning his face away. "Fili and Kili," he said hoarsely, turning back to him. "Kili is stable, thanks to Tauriel." Bilbo gestured across the room. Who…? Oh, the elf with the red hair. "And Fili?" Thorin whispered desperately. Bilbo opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "He didn't make it." Thorin closed his eyes, breathing through his teeth. "Shouldn't have sent them in." "Thorin, it's not your fault. It's… it was battle, and you did the best you could." Thorin took in a breath and slowly released it. "Did Dain survive?" "Yes. Just a bit bruised." "I need to talk to him." "I--now?" Thorin grunted in affirmation. Bilbo, casting him more unsure glances, left the tent. Thorin finally got a look down at himself. His chest was tightly wrapped, and a few other places as well, like his foot. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his wounds with a painful ache. Other than that he wore only his breeches and a thick wool blanket that had started to slide off. Achingly, he turned his head to look across the room. There was a cot there, and a table in between that obscured the top half of Kili's face. The lower half, and Kili's skin, was pale, and his chest rose and fell in brief, shallow breaths. He watched him for a long moment, willing his own life force to go into Kili. Stomping boots against stone sounded, and Dain threw open the tent flap. Thorin caught a brief glimpse of the dark walls of Erebor behind him before he strode in, Bilbo close behind. Thorin briefly raised his hand so Dain could grasp it. "Thorin," Dain said fervently, grasping his hand and kneeling by his bedside, "you have no idea how glad I am to see you awake." "How is everyone?" Thorin asked, "and how long was I out?" "Near 10 days. We've accepted the Laketown refugees into the Halls for safety. The treasure's been moved to the lower levels. Thranduil has sent most of his army back, but remains with a small retinue. I've done the same, but the Iron Hills aren't far if we should suffer a second attack, and we're keeping scouts out." Thorin sighed with relief. "You've done well. Thank you." He squeezed his hand weakly. Dain only nodded, smiling beneath his beard. With difficulty, Thorin finally spoke. "I'm going to abdicate." Dain's eyes widened. "Thorin, no!" "It's better this way. Once Kili is ready, I would have him be King Under the Mountain. Until then, Erebor needs you. Will you accept?" Dain shook his head. "No, Thorin, it isn't right--" "Please," Thorin whispered. "You're the one who took back Erebor!" "For myself. I have to give it up. It nearly… I nearly…" his eyes went to Bilbo, who still stood near the tent flap, dark eyes wide. "I have to stay away, Dain. For the good of our people." Dain was still shaking his head, face screwed up as though in pain. "Would you have me beg?" Thorin asked quietly. Dain frowned at their clenched hands. "No, sire. And until you've formally abdicated, you are my king. And I will do as you command. By the time Kili comes of age, Erebor will be as great as it ever was." A weight seemed to lift off of Thorin's chest, and he smiled. "Thank you. I will soon be strong enough to give my abdication before witnesses." He closed his eyes, exhausted from the effort of speaking. Dain pressed a hairy kiss to his hand and gently set the hand down. "Take care of him, Master Bilbo," he heard Dain mutter. "I will, thank you." He hadn't thought he'd fallen asleep, but when he opened his eyes Oin was there and Bilbo gone.

-- It took many weeks before Thorin finally regained enough energy to be restless. He and Kili both slept a great deal, as though every day they had battled hard. Oin, Bilbo, and Tauriel were in the tent the most, but every member of the company had occasion to stop by, and Thorin found himself apologizing to every one of them and refused to budge on his decision to abdicate. Only Balin didn’t push him to reverse his decision. The old dwarf simply watched him for a long moment, then nodded. Thorin’s heart sank a little. He’d almost let himself be persuaded by the others. “You do think it wise, then?” Balin took his hand reassuringly. “Sometimes it is wisdom to take yourself away from temptation. And I… wish I could take my personal feelings out of this, or erase for you what happened those weeks while we searched for the Arkenstone. I can see it has broken you. I wish to see you healed. And Erebor is the wrong place for that.” Thorin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s the right place?” “Well.” Balin’s eyes twinkled a little, like he had thought of something. “Somewhere peaceful, I suppose, where gold has no hold over the hearts of the people.” He squeezed his hand. “Somewhere where it doesn’t matter if you could have been king. Where you can take pride in not the circumstances of your birth, but the work of your hands.” Thorin chuckled, and his diaphragm seared with pain. He hissed, then looked back to Balin with a subdued smile. “It sounds like you already have a place in mind.” “Hmph. If you want recommendations, you should talk to Bilbo.” Balin patted his hand and sat back. “In any case, there are plenty of wars still to be fought, if you’ll have them.” “Moria,” Thorin said distantly. In his mind’s eye he could see Azog holding aloft a graying dwarvish head. He grimaced. The thought used to fill him mainly with righteous anger--now it made him sick and full of grief.

Thorin abdicated as soon as he could sit up to sign the documents in front of witnesses. He had a face of stone the entire time and spoke little. Kili had temporarily taken a turn for the worse and wasn't present. Bilbo did his best not to hover anxiously over Thorin. Thorin barely met anyone's eyes. Once the documents were signed, he nodded at Dain and sat back in his wheelchair, pale and grim. Bilbo started wheeling him back to his sick tent. They had to take a roundabout path away from the council chamber. "Wait," Thorin said at one of the intersections. He pointed to the left corridor. "Take me that way." "Thorin, I specifically memorized this route and if we leave it I'm going to be lost," Bilbo said to the back of his head. Thorin turned his head just a little. "You won't. Not while you're with me." Bilbo sighed and turned the chair to the left. The corridor soon opened up into one of the forge chambers, although this one had some slightly different equipment, long pipes like spears that Bilbo hadn't seen before. Thorin directed him across the room into an archway. Beyond the archway lay a dark room. Bilbo quickly lit the torch by the door with the box of matches he'd learned to always carry around, and once that was lit, the complicated lighting system that the dwarves had established throughout Erebor was ignited, filling the room with dim warm light. The room was full of colored glass: orbs and creatures and ribbons and prisms, many of them small and displayed on rusting shelves. Overhead were complicated light fixtures--many of them, like this was a storage room. "Erebor was the home of many crafts," Thorin said. Bilbo rounded his chair to stand next to him, hand resting lightly on his forearm. "Glass is not as expensive as jewels or gold, and it's more fragile. I'm pleased to see that Smaug didn't touch it." Thorin looked around the room, his face more lost than pleased. Then he nodded. "That's all, Master Baggins. We can return to your route." "I--that's all?" Bilbo said. "You don't want to look at any of them more closely?" "You may return later if you wish, Bilbo," Thorin said. His face had clouded over, preoccupied. "This place isn't for me." "I…" Bilbo wished he could think of something to say. It would make sense if Thorin were simply tired. But it was more than that. A light in him had gone out. He looked around for inspiration and grabbed a figurine off the shelf. He knelt before Thorin and held it up before him. Thorin's cold blue eyes turned to it impassively. "Doesn't it remind you of Beorn?" Bilbo said with a little smile. He turned the little bear so it caught the light. Thorin sighed. "I don't think Beorn was blue." He touched Bilbo's hand and gently pushed it away. "I appreciate it, Bilbo. Perhaps we can come back another day. Today, it's…" he swallowed and looked away. "No, I, I understand," Bilbo got to his feet and tucked the little bear into his pocket. "It could help to talk about it? I'm only here to help you, Thorin." "You are too kind for your own good," Thorin said miserably. "I'm sorry for how I treated you." "No--one moment of weakness doesn't define our relationship, Thorin." "I should have seen the path that would have led me to that moment," Thorin said. He leaned over and grabbed a wheel, pulling on it to turn himself away from Bilbo. "It's not just you. I know I've made the right choice in abdicating--!" His voice broke into a sob. "But how do I go on? How can I live with myself, knowing that the moment I had the power I sought after all my life, I abused it and ruined everything? If I hadn't--maybe Fili--" "Shh--" Bilbo leaned over the back of the chair and hugged Thorin around the shoulders from behind. "There are so many maybes, Thorin. It's a miracle that you're alive, and Kili. We would be worse off if we had lost you. I--on Ravenhill, I knew that if I lost you there, I would be more alone than I ever have been. I would go home and leave you buried in the Lonely Mountain, but you would have haunted me, much worse than if I could have left you safe and alive." He briefly tightened his grip. "Thank you for holding on." Thorin's hand pressed against the side of Bilbo's head. "You're such a fool," he whispered fondly. He stroked his hair once, then dropped his hand back into his lap. Bilbo released him, sniffling. "I wouldn't mind coming back here for a better look on another day," Thorin said, clearing his throat. "But I'm ready now to rest." "Of course." Bilbo started pushing the chair, and on the way out lowered the little metal hood that snuffed out the torch. With a few gentle corrections from Thorin, they made it back to the healing tent.

When Thorin awoke, the tent was empty except for Kili, who was sitting up supported by pillows, flipping a small knife over and over in the air. Thorin sighed. "Glad to see you're feeling better," he rumbled. Kili frowned at him. "You should have woken me. I wanted to be there." "To see your throne secure?" Thorin teased. Kili's face grew dark, and he raised the knife. "I will use this." He lowered it. "I wanted to be there for you. I'm still upset you did it." "Dain will make a fine regent. Also, he can walk fairly well, I hear." "Don't give me that. You'll be on your feet soon enough." Thorin stared at the ceiling. "You've worried Bilbo, you know," Kili said. "He cares for you a great deal. Oin says he barely left your side while you were sick--" "Don't talk about Bilbo," Thorin said. "I don't--I don't know what to think of him. I… keep wishing I could give what little strength I have left to you, so you can grow strong and healthy, but I get the feeling that the only reason I have some strength at all is because of Bilbo." He blinked tears away. "He won't let me go, even though I'm only a shadow of myself. I have been ever since I laid eyes on that accursed gold. I want to go, Kili. Now that your future is secure, what else have I to live for?" Thorin finally looked over at Kili, who looked pale and alarmed. "Don't talk like that," Kili said, "don't think like that. You--told Bilbo you'd go back with him to see more glass figurines, didn't you? For Mahal's sake, Uncle, your life doesn't have to be some enormous quest! You can just be alive to collect moments of peace. You--eurgh--" Kili grimaced and put a hand against his chest, leaning back more heavily against his pillows. "Kili?" Thorin said, struggling to sit up. "Kili! Bilbo!" In a moment Bilbo was rushing into the tent. "Take deep breaths," he said, pressing on Kili's shoulders, "we need to keep your chest open. And you lay back down," he snapped at Thorin. He reached over and grabbed a jar of salve off the bedside table, opened it, and smothered some on the exposed skin on Kili's chest. The sharp smell of peppermint and eucalyptus filled the tent. Kili gasped in breaths and when Bilbo tried to take his hand from his chest, he gripped Bilbo's hand instead. After a minute or so his breathing became easier, and he released Bilbo's hand and relaxed against the pillows. "Sorry," Kili muttered. "Got upset with Thorin." "Thorin's upset enough with himself," Bilbo said gently, shooting him an apologetic smile, "you just worry about getting better and not re-collapsing that lung." Kili nodded stiffly. Color was coming back to his face. He sighed and closed his eyes. Once Kili seemed to be secure, Bilbo disappeared out the tent for a few minutes before returning with Tauriel, who without so much as a glance at Thorin hurried to Kili's bedside and took the stool there. She began gently chiding him, and Bilbo sat on Thorin's bed and patted his hand. "He wasn't too hard on you, was he?" Thorin snorted. "If he was I deserved it." Bilbo sighed and took Thorin's hand to press an affectionate kiss to his knuckles. Thorin's eyes widened in surprise, and his breath caught. Bilbo caught his reaction and quickly put his hand down, blushing. "I, I'll see you later," Bilbo said. "Leaving me alone with them?" Thorin said in a mock hurtful tone, looking pointedly at Kili and Tauriel. "Let that be your punishment for upsetting Kili," Bilbo said with mock sternness. "I'll go get lunch for us." After Bilbo left Thorin looked wonderingly at his own hand. What had Bilbo meant by that? Had he-- A sudden memory came to him, that Thorin had dismissed before as a dream. Ravenhill--Had Bilbo really kissed him? He looked across the tent. Tauriel was leaning in close, whispering something that was making Kili's face light up with a rare grin. "Hey, you two," Thorin said grumpily. Tauriel immediately sat up, looking guilty. "Sorry, I--" "Uncle, we weren't, um…" Thorin waited, suddenly curious about what excuse they thought they had to give. He raised his eyebrows. But they quieted, waiting for him. "I was only going to ask," he said carefully, "whether you knew when Bilbo is planning to return to the Shire." The two exchanged looks. "No," Tauriel said innocently. "No idea," Kili put in, "perhaps you should ask him yourself? But I highly doubt he'd leave before he was sure you were stable." Thorin glared. "And why's that? Why shouldn't he feel free to leave?" "Well, he cares about you," Kili said. "If that much isn't obvious to you, then--" "Oh, of course it's obvious," Thorin snapped. "I just don't know what to do about it. Oh, nevermind." He turned onto his side, facing away from them, and tried not to eavesdrop. Thorin gripped the edge of his blanket, glaring at the material in his hand. In the end, he simply didn't deserve Bilbo's kindness, which made it vexing that Bilbo continued to show it. And that Thorin found himself relying on it like a lifeline. Everything about Bilbo made Thorin feel calmer. His practicality, goodness, straightforwardness, desire to make Thorin happier even on one of the worst days of his life. If Thorin were to continue living, he'd want Bilbo to be in that life. Slowly, paths were opening before him. He had to be better to Bilbo, see if the hobbit would accept him. If he didn't…? Thorin would find another reason to stay alive until the dwarves were ready to take back Moria. Then maybe he could get neatly killed in battle. Or not, and he'd look for another reason to keep going. It was too far to see ahead, too dim to know if he'd be able to find another reason. He hadn't meant to fall asleep again, but when he woke up he found a bowl of cold stew on his bedside table. Kili was asleep, snoring softly. Thorin bit back a groan as he sat up straight and ate his cold dinner. Right as he was finishing, Bilbo stumbled in, looking groggy and his curly hair in disarray. "Oh, good. Thorin. I thought I heard you, um, being awake." "Bilbo." Thorin set his bowl aside. "Sit down, I need to talk to you." Bilbo paused and squinted at him. "Please," Thorin tacked on as an afterthought. Bilbo sat down on the end of the cot, quickly rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Uh--yes. Yes?" "I… don't really remember well what happened on Ravenhill," Thorin said. "And what I think I remember might have been some dream, so I wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings between us." He looked very seriously at Bilbo, heart hammering with trepidation. Bilbo looked back, poker-faced. "Did you kiss me?" Thorin asked Bilbo blanched and looked like he was going to laugh it off. "I? Ki--pfft. Well, I mean, considering--listen." He looked Thorin in the face. "You were dying, Thorin. And I knew it was my last chance to tell you how I felt. Feel. And I…" he looked at his knees. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, and ruined our friendship." Thorin's heart was bursting with delight and something like fear. He laughed a little, shaking his head. "And were you going to just keep it as a secret forever, hoping I'd forget?" "What, like how you were going to keep it to yourself that mithril armor is really only something a king would give to someone he intended to marry?" Thorin cringed. Bilbo wagged a finger. "Hmm, yeah, I've been talking to your company. Apparently you could buy an entire kingdom with this." He fished just under his collar to tug at the edge of the mithril. Knowing Bilbo still wore it despite knowing its value and meaning warmed Thorin's heart. Thorin settled back into his pillows, still mostly sitting up. "I'm glad I did one thing sort of right in those terrible weeks," he said with a fond smile. "I hope you keep it, and let it protect you on whatever adventures you have in the future." Bilbo frowned in surprise. "Well, I'm not leaving you," he said. "I don't mind keeping it, but I'm staying in Erebor." It was Thorin's turn to frown. "I'm not staying in Erebor." "Oh. You--? Where will you go?" "I was hoping you might have some suggestions. Balin thought I should go somewhere peaceful..." Bilbo's face cleared. He scooted up the cot so he could place a hand over Thorin's. "Come to the Shire," he said, "With me. You can stay with me for as long as you like, I won't ask you to stay a moment longer." Thorin took in a breath and nodded, hardly trusting himself to speak around the sudden tears that choked his throat. He slid his hand into Bilbo's. "We'll plant the seed from Beorn's garden," he whispered. Bilbo nodded, smiling. "Maybe get a bigger armchair, for you." Thorin took a shaky breath. "I want to apologize--" "Oh Thorin, you already--" "For all the things I'm going to do wrong. I never want to hurt you again, in any way, but I don't trust myself." He chuckled wetly. "You're taking on a handful of a dwarf." "I know!" Bilbo leaned in with a laugh. "I know. And I won't be perfect either. I like to think I have a gift for vexing you." Thorin leaned his head back and laughed at that, then grimaced, clutching his diaphragm. His wound throbbed. He sighed and smiled at Bilbo, who now looked worried. "Don't fret, Master Baggins. I have a feeling I will heal more quickly now." "I don't think that's how this works," Bilbo said, but a smile flickered across his face. "Oh?" Thorin drew Bilbo's hand up and kissed it. "And you're the expert on battle wounds?" Bilbo blushed. "I--yes, in fact, that is, I've spoken to a few experts, and…" Thorin kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face. His blush deepened. His hand was trembling in Thorin's grasp. "And I… well, perhaps you're right. I don't know. Um." He met Thorin's eyes with a strange sort of yearning. Thorin lowered their hands, now blushing as well. If Bilbo wasn't ready, that was perfectly f-- Bilbo leaned forward and kissed Thorin. And Thorin felt that he would stay in the Shire for a long, long time.

[redrabbitspod]

READ OUR INTERVIEW WITH ROLLING STONE HERE:

(full, designed article. But if you don’t want to follow a magazine layout, read the transcript. Art by @bloodydamnit)

TRANSCRIPT BELOW THE CUT

Red Rabbits: The Rolling Stone Interview

Featuring Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, and the Red Rabbits Team

By Angie Rodner

On a chilly Monday, Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard are standing side by side, looking at something on Andrew’s phone in our New York, Rolling Stone headquarters. The rest of the Red Rabbits team, consisting of Dan Wilds, Seth Gordon, Renee Walker, Robin Cross, Allison Reynolds, and pro Exy legend/honorable mention Matt Boyd, orbit around them. It's an interesting scene to take in, to say the least. No matter what they seem to be talking about, they all defer to the two hosts without any of them seeming to acknowledge it. 

I was lucky enough to sit down with all eight of them, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m a fan of the podcast and I’ve followed since Season 1. The story of Andrew and Neil (formerly known as Nathaniel Wesnisnki, the son of the Nathan Wesninski or the Butcher of Baltimore), and the revelation of their connection they’d shared as kids, was better than any true crime podcast I’d ever listened to. 

Now, the team takes on what they’ve dubbed ‘The Case of the Newark 9’ for their second season. It’s a case based around the hunt for a man known only as ‘Steven’, who they believe is responsible for a series of kidnappings and murders of young girls in and around the Newark area. They’re joined by Robin Cross, a victim and survivor of Steven’s, who is helping them investigate the case. 

I sat down with Robin and the other women of Red Rabbits first. 

What’s it been like to work on this podcast together? Was it strange to go from looking for Neil, to having him in the studio, to watching him and Andrew form the relationship they have?

Dan: It was strange, because in all honesty, it wasn’t strange. Does that make sense? None of us knew about the meeting they had as kids, but when Andrew finally told us, everything made a lot more sense. Really, they belong together. It was much weirder when they first got back and hadn’t acknowledged what was between them yet. We were all just kinda like... are y’all not seeing what we’re seeing?

Renee: They got there eventually.

How have things changed from Season 1 to Season 2? The cases are obviously different, but they still involve missing children. What’s the atmosphere like around the studio?

Dan: Tense.

Allison: I’m not even there that often and I can still feel it.

Robin: It is tense, but there’s also a sense of urgency. We know ‘Steven’ has another girl now, so it’s like every day that goes by is another day he has her... Another day we either find him, or we don’t.  

Mm... I can’t imagine how difficult that is. However, with that being said, the NYPD have made it pretty clear that they aren’t buying what you guys are selling. How does that make you feel?

Robin: I don’t feel anything about the NYPD. My anger is better placed elsewhere. I am angry. But the police didn’t listen to me when I was a kid and trying to tell them important information. Why would they listen to me now?

Renee: I think we all try and take our cues from Robin. Andrew and Neil are very careful to include her and get her opinion on certain things before moving forward. We’re not letting this thing with the NYPD deter us. 

Speaking of Robin then, what’s it like for you to have her on the team? As one of Steven’s victims that is, there with you in the studio?

Robin: Oh no. Say nice things about me.

Dan: Girl. [ laughs ] Honestly, she’s amazing. She’s my little sister and I’m not just saying that. I think we all kind of feel that way. I’ve never known a person as strong and determined as she is and I know - see she’s blushing! [ laughs again ]- I know she hates it when we talk about her like this, but it’s so true. She’s family now.

Renee: She is, and I think she brings a really unique perspective to the case. We have someone here who’s directly involved, who lived through it and can give us some idea of what the other girls went through. I think most people would really love to have that kind of resource during an investigation.

Allison: For sure. She’s even my muse for my fall line. Everything is going to be deep colors and fun modesty.

Seems like you’ve been properly inducted into the team, Robin.

Robin: [ smiling ] It feels amazing...

Now, last question. Are you confident you’ll find what you’re looking for?

All as one: Yes.

Speaking with the ladies was fun. They were easy and connected and you can tell that there was a real sisterhood in the studio that day. It was refreshing to see women supporting and helping each other thrive in such a competitive industry. There was a lot of laughter between them, and it was such a joy to be able to share it with them. 

-

My next interviewees were Seth Gordon, ‘resident TFN sound engineer/IT guy/anything to do with technology’, as he tells it, and New York Lynxes starting backliner, Matt Boyd. When I tell you I laughed throughout this entire interview, I’m being completely sincere. There was something about the way the two bounced off each other that had me smiling and understanding why they are both so well-liked. 

You guys are best friends aren’t you? I feel a bromance in this Chilli’s tonight.

Seth: Bet. Matt Boyd is my homie and BFFL. Do people still say that? Anyway, we have matching necklaces and everything.

Do you really?

Matt: No, not really, but I’d totally wear one if he gave it to me.

[ laughing ] Matt, how did you even end up here? I know you were friends with Neil, but I feel like the details on that are kind of murky.

Matt: I hit him with my truck. [ My jaw dropped ] No, really! I hit him with my truck in Midtown Manhattan when I was driving home. He refused to go to the hospital so I brought him back to my place to make sure he was okay. He didn’t leave after that.

Seth: Because you held him hostage? That’s the way I hear it.

Matt: Oh yeah, for sure. He takes up so little space, why not? [ laughs again ] No really, I did convince him to stay, but I just felt like he needed a friend. He was obviously running from something and he was scared. I just didn’t know from what or why at the time.

And when you found out?

Matt: Honestly? I just about shit myself, but it made so much sense. All the little questions I asked myself early on, finally had answers. 

I saw the interview you and Dan did with Essence. You guys look amazing together.

Seth: They are amazing together. It’s gross. 

Matt: Yeah, and you and Dion aren’t constantly fawning all over each other.

Is that Dion hovering nearby?

Seth: Yep, that’s my man. He’s amazing and fuckin’ fine as hell. Can I say fuck in this interview?

Sure.

Seth: He’s fuckin’ fine.

Seth, what’s it been like for you, putting together the shows? There’s been a lot of audio that’s hard for us as listeners to hear, and I’m sure there’s more we haven’t even heard. 

Seth: There is.

What’s that like for you to have to go through it all?

Seth: Really hard sometimes. There was some stuff in Season 1 we didn’t air that seriously gave me nightmares. It’s worth it, though. We found Neil and I think we’ll find Steven.

Are both of you confident in that fact?

Seth: Positive.

Matt: I think if anyone can find him, it’s Andrew and Neil. They’re determined and they’ll keep looking no matter what.

I believe them. 

Andrew and Neil were my last interview of the day, and a more determined pair I think I’ve ever met. 

Here’s the thing readers: They’re connected. It might make me a poor journalist, but I don’t know how else to explain it. At one point during the interview, Neil reached over to squeeze Andrew’s arm. At another point, Andrew reached over to squeeze the back of Neil’s neck. They were obviously a comfort to and for each other, and it almost seemed like they borrowed strength. It was intense and being able to witness it has been one of my favorite moments in my career.

So, let’s talk about this season before we get into everything else. You’re looking for a man you believe to be responsible for the disappearances of multiple girls in the Newark area. Do you feel like you’re any closer to solving the mystery than you were at the beginning?

Neil: Absolutely. We’ve gotten some really great tips and we think we’ve narrowed some things down. We don’t want to get too deep into what we’ve got at the moment, because we’re still investigating. But we’re confident in what we have.

What’s it been like working with Robin? I was able to interview her earlier, and she’s really something.

Andrew: She’s been the best resource we have. She’s incredibly strong and unbelievably quick. She’s taken this terrible thing that happened to her and turned it into fire, and it’s been amazing to watch. Most of the information we have comes from her.

The interview you guys did with her was absolutely chilling. I cried three times listening to it. How do you handle hearing these things? I feel like it’d be really hard not to take it home with you.

Neil: Yeah. It’s hard sometimes.

Andrew, I want to touch on the interview Riko Moriyama just did with Kathy Ferdinand and your response. What was that like for you, hearing Riko wrongfully expose something like that on live television?

Andrew: It was… I was stunned, I guess. That information was supposed to be sealed. My name was redacted. So I have no idea how he even got details of the case.

You’ve talked before about being in the foster care system. It sounds like you had a pretty rocky childhood.

Andrew: Yes.

Neil, I know yours was no picnic either. Do you think that this kind of... shared trauma, I guess, is part of why you two work so well together?

Neil: Yeah, partly. When we met as kids, I think a bond was cemented. We both knew how horrible adults could be to children. But now that we’re older, I think more than a shared trauma, it’s a mutual respect for that trauma. We both have shit, you know? I told Matt this one time and I didn’t really understand how true it was until recently, but we both have baggage that we share. We take each other’s on to lighten the load for the other. But, there are times when it gets really fucking heavy, and I think recently we’ve figured out that it’s better to lean on each other when that happens, instead of trying to carry it all ourselves.

Why do you think Riko felt the need to call you two out like he did? I know he mentioned Neil possibly being manipulated into the relationship.

Neil: [laughs]

Andrew: I wish I could manipulate him into having better taste in music.

Neil: My taste in music is fine. 

Andrew: It is absolutely not. And I don’t know why Riko feels the need to comment. I’d be interested to hear the reason. The things he said regarding Neil were ridiculous, and in his response, Neil has made sure to make that known. But the thing that really bothered me was his comments on mental health. He tried to basically call me unstable for seeking therapy and admitting that there came a point when I needed outside help. There are literally hundreds of thousands of people in this country who seek out therapy every year. There’s no shame in it and I’m unsure as to why Riko believes there is. Honestly, I’m shocked the Moriyamas haven’t released a statement. He’s their mouthpiece, after all.

Do you think they should apologize?

Neil: Yes.

Andrew: I think they should at least clarify. I’ve already heard people are planning to protest their new documentary and I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to give my money to people who think I’m less of a person because I struggle sometimes.

Speaking of struggle, let’s move back to the case. I know the NYPD has been giving you grief over your claims that the person you’re looking for is the same person that’s taken Haylie Clark. Robin, especially, seems completely certain. How does it feel to know law enforcement doesn’t have your back on this?

Andrew: Familiar. They’ve never had my back before, so why would they start now?

Neil: I’ve dealt with too many crooked cops to really take it seriously. I have no idea what their motivations are and to be clear, I’m not saying I think they’re crooked - I’m just saying that in my experience, the help doesn’t always come like it’s supposed to.

The rest of the team seems pretty confident in you two. They all said they absolutely believe you’ll be able to find him. Is it hard sometimes, not to lose faith?

Andrew: It’s hard all the time. But it doesn’t matter. We have to keep moving forward. We aren’t going to stop until he and Haylie are found. 

I think that’s really commendable and I look forward to seeing that happen. Now, tell me a bit about the team. Neil, since you came in at the end of Season 1, how did you find the dynamic as an outsider?

Neil: I didn’t really understand it in the beginning. Not really. It helped having Matt at my back for months prior, but I’ve never had the opportunity to make solid connections with people. So when I came into the studio, to this group of people who had known each other since college, it was overwhelming. 

Andrew: That’s funny, seeing as how they like you better than me.

Neil: It’s all the charm and charisma. 

[ laughing ] And now? You all seem really tight knit.

Neil: Now, yeah. We are. These people are my family.

Andrew?

Andrew: Yes?

Neil: She wants you to say something nice about the team.

Andrew: Every single one of them knows my coffee order, and it’s truly amazing that they can do what the interns cannot. [ he looks over at Neil, who’s tilting his head and raising his brows ] Oh, don’t look at me like that. Fine. We have a really strong team. I wouldn’t be able to do what I’m doing without them. Seth works harder than anyone I know, Dan keeps us all in line with just a look, Renee is the only reason I agreed to do this in the first place, Reynolds has a lot of money and she’s not afraid to use it for a cause she believes in, and Robin is the most inspiring person I’ve ever met.

And Matt?

Andrew: Who?

Neil: The guy that kept me alive for months while you were hunting me.

Andrew: [ rolls his eyes and shrugs ] He’s fine.

-

My take away from the interviews was this: these people will do whatever they need, in order to find their perpetrator. They believe in their cause, they hurt for these girls, and they’ll find justice for them in the end. They’re family, that much is clear, and I can’t wait to see how this ends. I can’t wait to say that I was there when it’s over.

Red Rabbits can be heard on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, and GooglePlay. You can follow the website at redrabbitspod.tumblr.com and twitter @redrabbitspod.

And as the Red Rabbits team always says, “Keep Searching”. I know I will.

[calypsoff]

Twenty Seven.

Rolling my eyes hard while on FaceTime to Chris, you know what why is the man I love, also is the love of my life and I adore him so much, but he is so fucking stubborn. He has his moments where he will leave his ego at the door where he will obey me and what I say and then the next day he will refuse to hear me out or say I am being judgemental and I need to listen to what I am saying to him, it’s always my way, it never is anyways. But I swear he does shit and doesn’t think of the bigger picture at all “you got a face on with me?” So he says “not so much, you could be here with me in Cali but instead you’re there in Virginia about to do something dumb, it’s not even your child to care” I want to tell him no, I want to say to him if you love me don’t go but I know it will fall on deaf ears. I will look like the nasty one and that I look insecure when I don’t “exactly, show my face and go” I sniggered “that is the issue, you know why Chris. Do it, go. I am busy anyways, I think you need a lesson” rubbing my forehead “you are doing the most for nothing, it’s really nothing. But anyways I’m going to go and look pretty” annoying asshole “ok bye” disconnecting the call before he could say anything more, he just wants to annoy me “why does he purposely go out of his way to be an asshole!” I shouted “baby you could have said no, it’s easy” Mel added hearing the whole conversation, this is whole other issue. I don’t like how we are all dating people in the same circle, if shit goes wrong it will affect us “you don’t know Chris like I do, but you know what. Let him go, he hasn’t had the blogs be on his ass, he doesn’t know what it is like being famous and he will soon find out, I want him too. I’m going to rehearsal and ignoring him when he’s getting tagged in false claims, I don’t care for them. I just didn’t want the mess but let him, he will be calling me up saying I didn’t do anything. Let it happen Mel, who am I to hide him when he doesn’t want it from me, but I am angry, and until further notice I don’t want to know” shaking my head, he is going to get a nasty wake up call.

I enjoyed Virginia a lot, I loved how homie it was. I enjoyed my time with Chris, and I loved it all. It was a real good time away to be honest, it was my home when I was doing the exchange programme, I loved that his family treated me well and I feel Chris and I are closer than ever. But he just needs to stop trying to hear his own voice, like he doesn’t need to go but he will. And I can’t wait to hear him call me and say I didn’t do anything when they are dragging him, me. I have become immune to it, Chris will get a lesson in this “you have a face like thunder, the dancers are going to be shook” Mel said through her laughter “oh I’m not angry, I was just thinking. But how is you and Barry getting on? Is he less stubborn than Chris? Does he actually listen” Mel chuckled, she is laughing but I’m not, I hate when Chris is like this. Tries to be the man of our home, he knows damn well he will be crying to me “he’s a nerd, like Chris and I like that about him. He’s easy going, and we talk every day. He said that if we do end up being together and it works out well enough that he would move here and I’m like nigga already!? I mean I am not whipped at all but he’s nice, and easy going” I sighed out “oh brother, now why can’t Chris be this way” my man is a whole pain “because he likes to be the man of the house, I don’t know. Something he will get over but I’m excited” I’m scared of this whole relationship with friends’ things, I am just not sure of what to make of it. I feel like we will be judging each other, maybe that’s me because Chris is being a pain, but I hope it’s not what I assume it will be, I want better for me, for him, for us to be honest.

Robyn is cute, like she left me her gold chain. I mean it’s cute and small, but she left it behind, I think she did, or she purposely left it here, but I am wearing it anyways. Putting my snapback backwards, I wore the chain anyways, but I am just wearing the minimum, I wore white tee and grey sweatpants. I am just going to go to the thing and then leave, I am there for the free food like the fuck. It’s not even that deep, like I don’t understand why it’s a big thing, I mean I get it but it’s nothing. Go there and leave, that is it. I am late anyways, I told him I am going to go there late because I don’t want to be there all day. They are having the reveal at a hall, so I will turn up and then leave. I showed my face, I am there for my nigga so does it matter. Closing my bedroom door and making my way down the steps “where are you going?” Desean asked me “out, I will be back. Dad, I am borrowing the car!” I shouted; I been borrowing the car every day since being here. I need to get my own car; this is my list for my family. A new car for them, a new home. A bigger one anyways, they deserve it “when will you be back?” my dad asked “I won’t be long, I am going to see TJ” my dad nodded his head “uh, isn’t it Seiko gender party today? I saw someone post a little something about it” nodding my head “anyways, bye” I don’t need to hear anyone speak on this, I know what I am doing. This is my life, I need to take a hold of it in a way of making big money, I need to get into that life. And I think California, well me being in California will do me good. I need that in my life, I need to win big for me and my family and also Robyn, I need to do it for her too.

Locking my car door and making my way to the hall, these Jordan’s I have on right now are brand new, I just bought them today and these sweatpants is what Drake gave me from his clothing line, dope. I ain’t dressed up, I ain’t even shaved so if anyone thinks I made the effort then they lying as fuck. Licking my top lip pulling open the door to the place, I told TJ I am coming, and he came to meet me “I am so fucking happy to see you my brother” TJ hugged me “nigga got a whole fucking clown suit on” Barry snorted laughing “I had to look the part, I got the Burberry tie on. Man, my momma is so happy about this. I hate it” moving back from the hug and dapping Barry “well of course you ain’t going to be happy, shit was a mistake” I chuckled “is Seiko brother’s here?” not like I care “mhmm yeah, they trying to beef me up but whatever” of course “I am hungry, where the food at. There better be chicken wings” rubbing my stomach “nigga I paid half, I made sure there was. We wait on you so come. We can get some alcohol and food” nodding my head, least they waited on me. I don’t care for anyone, just my brother’s.

Licking my fingers as I placed the paper plate down, I am getting weird looks from people I don’t know “little rat, why you keep coming here?” TJ said to his sister “can I get a picture with you?” wiping my hands on my sweatpants “who?” I asked “you” she pointed “me!?” I spat half confused “can I? I want to tell my friends that I know you because you date Rihanna!” she half shouted, I chuckled “who is Rihanna? I don’t date Rihanna ma, see. The pictures you see they are photoshopped. I am single” I lied, but she doesn’t believe me. She seems more disappointed that I even lied to her, she looked down at her phone “my sister is pain bro, like she into this celebrity shit. Like live you damn life “look” she patted my lap, turning to her “oh wow, who is that woman?” she out here pulling out receipts of Robyn and I “stop lying, can I please have a picture with you. You’re super famous now” she is tripping “I am not famous, my god. It’s me Chris! I ain’t had this before with you” TJ nudged me “just do it bro so we can get rid of her” taking in a deep breath “fine, come here” waving her over “TJ take it” she passed her his phone and she openly sat in my lap, I ain’t into this picture thing “you look so annoyed, smile for me. Quick” I grinned at the camera “now go away! Leave us alone, dang” that is the weirdest shit to happen to me today.

Sitting back in my seat as TJ made his way to his baby mother, I find this hilarious to me. I know this nigga hates this, but he is putting on a front, I am so happy it wasn’t me. Chewing on my bottom, Seiko and I eyes met and she is just blatantly staring at me in a room full of people, I mean I wish she looked away, but I can tell she regrets things, she looked away as she should. Clearing my throat looking away laughing to myself “you look well Chris” looking to the side of me “I do? You look well too Kristie” moving my arm from the chair “you’re rather the celebrity in this joint, kind of knocked my best friend off her pedestal” moving my chair away from her as she sat down “I don’t bite, I mean you should know that” rubbing my hands against my sweatpants “I ain’t do shit, I come here to support my friend” there is one thing, I never fucked ugly bitches and I love that for me “likewise, she does love you and still does” I sniggered “right, and having sex with my best friend made that right” she pointed at me “you sir are a hypocrite, you fucked all her friends” shaking my head “she was right there, y’all was ok with it. She knew it was wrong from jump with TJ. She knew that” is this girl being real right now “I never liked her like that anyways, that is the point. I am happier, away from her” Kristie laughed “who wouldn’t be dating Rihanna? She is beautiful and rich, you tell me Chris did you purposely take her there to get with Rihanna?” shaking my head “I didn’t think Rihanna would even remember me like that, I love her so much and I don’t pass around that word much so you can’t say it’s like that when it’s not. Nothing to do with being rich, she is my childhood sweetheart” I don’t care, I will tell the whole world “that sent my friend a shut up letter, Seiko loves you still. I say good riddance, she says she lost but you look well. Better then I last saw you naked” she winked at me “it’s the tan” she got up from her seat “I suppose” watching her walk off, now I should have dated her between her and Seiko.

I clapped seeing that my friend is having a son, happy for him. I think if he was having a girl he would be even more depressed “are you dating Rihanna? You’re the guy she is dating” this girl pointed me out, I stopped clapping “huh, what?” I said all confused “you’re like the guy Rihanna is dating, she was in Virginia and she was at her old school, oh my god you are actually him. I follow him!” she shouted “I am just a regular dude” I put my hands up, in my defence I am “can we like take a picture with you? You are literally the sexiest light skinned nigga. I get why she would date you” I chuckled “I will pass on the photos” I walked by them “congratulations brother, a boy” dapping TJ “I am so happy, like I don’t know what I would do with a girl. Now you need to have a boy, then Barry we all going to have a day care” shaking my head laughing “you need to get Rih pregnant, on god” I shushed him “relax on that, she busy now. But I am happy for you” hugging him “thank you” I know he appreciates it “nice seeing you here” Seiko spoke to me, I stepped back keeping my distance “for TJ, I am going to see to Barry” dapping TJ walking off.

Barry is eating again “people are weird here, they all are speaking on Rihanna and I am her boyfriend. I am but the fuck. I am just a regular dude” Barry is stuffing his face “that makes you famous by affiliation now Chris, you famous” furrowing my eyebrows “that is bullshit, anyways. Kristie came up to me. Started speaking on Seiko still in love with me and shit. This is why I ran here but I think it’s my time to go” I think I do “can we talk?” Seiko is right there “about what? There is nothing to talk about” Barry stood next to me, I ain’t moving anywhere with her “did you go to her concert to get back with her, I hate myself. She was laughing at me all that time when she took you from me” taking in a deep breath “I was never yours, yes I was with you. I dated you but it really meant nothing when I always loved her, I did. I wish you let me go, take off my pictures. Move on, so you can be happier in yourself also. I came here for TJ, not to see you. I am going Barry, good luck with that” I pointed at her bump as I walked off, all I know is that I am in my city but people are acting mad weird now with this Rihanna shit and I want to run home.

[bonef0cker]

🛑⚠️Dragon Raja Spoilers/Trigger Warnings⚠️🛑

(So the events I will be talking about is a gold side quest, and an event happening when you hit level 85. (All from a male perspective as my MC is male)

✋Side Quest BTW is called 'The Innocents' if you don't want to face any Triggering material✋

(Just using a photo of my character to make it long. Some notes on this

° I have only played the store to level 86.

°Again some spoilers and Trigger Warning for a Gold side quest

°Also the level 85 spoiler was the only time I felt a different emotion then confusion (which isn't surprising tbh) and made me want to make this post. I may add more to it as I progress in the game.)

Can we talk about how mentally damaged the MC is? Like from the beginning your orphanage/everyone you know is perceived dead. Even before that you see someone who you can perceive is your father figure (Herzog) torture Anton. And like yeah he was a dick, but he didn't deserve the torture. Then you wake up in Cassell 20 years later. (Like wtf?) Not to mention when you hit level 85 you see Herzog (Ghost? Projection?) and learn the truth of why Black Swan Bay was destroyed and their intent of forcing the orphans to be dragons when they become strong enough. AND NO ONE FUCKING TALKED ABOUT IT AFTER?!?!!?? LIKE CHISEI GEN KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED AND YEAH I FEEL BAD THAT YOUR DAD DIED BUT MINE WAS GONNA MAKE ME BECOME A DRAGON AND POTENTIALLY KILLED MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS/SIBLINGS. BUT HOW COME I HAVE TO COMFORT LUMINOUS WHEN HE AND ERII CANT BE TOGETHER OR HIS CONFUSING FEELINGS FOR NONO. WHAT ABOUT ME??? I'VE GOT NO FAMILY AND Y'ALL ARE MY NEW FAMILY! IM GOING THROUGH SOME REAL SHIT AND YOU AIN'T NO HOMIE HERE. LIKE WHAT THE FUCKING HELL AM I TO Y'ALL?? NOTHING?????? I KNOW Y'ALL DON'T KNOW ME FOR THAT LONG BUT HAVE SOME HUMAN DECENCY! SERIOUSLY I HAD TO MAKE MY CHARACTER STAND IN THE CORNER AND HAVE A CRY. LIKE I FELT GENUINE SADNESS THAT NO ONE CHECKED TO SEE IF MY CHARACTER WAS OK.

Oh and I completely forgot how your boss from the host club wanted you to kill Erii during the Love Tokyo Love Story. How can you just casually ask someone that? Or just in general force me to make Erii and Luminous fall in love? Like wtf??

Double OH! When you finish the under water scene and think everyone died but nah while I was searching for all y'all's asses you guys were just being hosts while I probably went through some relapse from the events ESPECIALLY SINCE IT ALL HAPPENED RIGHT AFTER I WAKE UP FROM A 20 YEAR FUCKING COMA! HELL EVEN THE FAKE DRAGON ATTACK MUST HAVE BEEN TERRIBLE FOR THE MC

⚠️Side Quest W/ Trigger Warning!!⚠️

Then the side quest holy fucking shit! So the side quest is called 'The Innocents' you see a girl get abused and have to solve an attempted murder. And in the end you see the cop kill the boyfriend and himself. AND ALL THE FUCKING COLLEGE AI SAYS IS THAT THE INCIDENT WILL BE PUT INTO THE DATA FILES. NO CHECKING THE MC IF THEY ARE OK. AND SHE MUST HAVE SOME PROGRAMMING TO CHECK STUDENTS HEALTH. SERIOUSLY AM I SUPPOSE TO BE AN EMOTIONLESS SACK OF MEAT?

⚠️ End of trigger Warning ⚠️

Don't get me wrong this game is very interesting, beautiful, and I will admit I'm intrigued to see how this will play out. But my God the MC must be going through some shit and the support system in the NPC's is shit. Like where is my comfort???

Sorry for the long ass rant (that may become longer in the future. Gotta see how this all plays out.) But I just really needed this off my chest. May even talk about more of the side quests that I see mental issues with. We will have to see.

[maggotmouth]

          hello, i’m nora ( she / her, 24, gmt ) and i almost exclusively join dark academia rps. please find below everything i have thus far on otto ballantyne, a theatre and classics student who was arranged to be married to one of the students who disappeared. i’ve honestly been itching to write otto again for months, so thanks to this lil group for giving me the opportunity. can’t wait to get my teeth stuck into him again. please bombard me with discord messages for plots. here is his  pinterest.

act one: application.

THOMAS DOHERTY   ,   CIS-MALE   ,   HE/HIM         →         according   to   the   school   records   ,   OTTO HORATIO BALLANTYNE   has   been   attending   sacred   heart   for   the   past   four   years   .   i   last   saw   them   hanging   around  the  cliffs   ;   i   think   they   were  reciting   shakespearean  soliloquies  to   the   wind   and   a   weathered   old   skull.   at   twenty   -   three   years   old   ,   otto   has   been   studying   theatre   &   classics   and   get   this   ,   i   heard   that   he   was   arranged   to   be   married   to  alice   rosseau   before   her   untimely   disappearance  ,   and  was   desperate   to   call   off   the   affair  —   figure   it’s   true   ?   everyone   around   here   always   associates   them   with    an   aged   bottle  of   malbec   glugged   carelessly   at   the   after - show  ,  the   kind   of   confidence   that   only   a   private   education gives ,  white   lines   of   powder   snorted   off  a   marble  sink  with    lovers  you’ll   later   deny  .   in   the   time   since   these   strange   happenings   ,   they   have   have   not   encountered   any   unexplained   occurrences   .         (   written   by   nora   ,   24   ,   she/her   ,   gmt   )

act two: the muse !

ok so lemme start off by saying otto is heavily inspired by if we were villains by m l rio and the secret history by donna tartt. very serious actor. into the classical plays, but would definitely fit in a production of posh by laura wade. originally i wrote him for a murder mystery dark academia group but when the group ended i missed him so much i decided to bring him here.

born in south london, but raised in cheltenham. went to eton or harrow or one of those posh english boarding schools for boys. we love the homoeroticism of learning latin with your homies and chanting sonnets in caves by candlelight.

youngest son in his family. was fiercely competitive with his brother nathaniel growing up. having an older brother who was incredibly intelligent and successful made otto learn to treat his life like it was a fight. constantly trying to be better and ‘prove himself’.

otto’s a brat. filthy rich public school boy vibes, very riot club. champagne all over the ceiling and driving well over the limit. custom-made cuff links he loses in taverns when he rolls up his sleeves to lean on the bar. needing to know so much about a character you’re playing that it consumes you ; you can no longer tell which parts of you are otto and which parts are macbeth.

characters who have inspired him:  alistair ryle in the riot club, francis abernathy in the secret history, anthony marston in and then there were none, oliver marks in if we were villains, achilles in the song of achilles, dorian gray in tpodg.

a fun fact is he is a natural blonde and spent most of his childhood that way but he now dyes it dark because he thinks that’ll give him more versatility in terms of the roles he can play. blonde ppl are usually cast as only the lover or the innocent n he wants to play villains and heroes and leading men as well.

very gay, n that’s pretty much a known thing by everyone but his family?? his family have arranged to have him married to women twice n both times its not worked out. the first time he basically drove her away with his reckless hedonism and alcoholism, and the second arranged marriage was to alice, one of the four students who went missing

archetypes: the figurehead. the challenger. the magician. the knight. the underdog.

ENTP-T / the debater personality. 

theatre arts major, minoring in classics.

trigger warning for internalised homophobia / familial prejudice.

act three: the biography !

     heavy is the head that wears the crown, though yours is the size of a tennis ball when you are born three weeks premature, barely formed enough to open your eyes. for those first few weeks all your parents knew were fear and love — fear that you would leave them, love that you had made it through so much, hooked up to wires like a fish in a cryogenic tank. to them your heart that learned one day to beat of its own accord was a miracle. perhaps that’s why you became their golden boy.

     being born as a boy on the brink of death makes you invulnerable. you were achilles and the world couldn’t touch you for you were shielded from harm by a mother’s protective spell. should nathaniel lay so much as a finger on your skin, a voice would raise like the sound of a god from the veranda where she sat sipping her wine, play nice, boys! the sound of it thick with merlot. in every fight they took your side ; angel-headed creatures never lied. you soon learned that adults would believe anything if they liked you, that flattery will get you anywhere and to the well-trained mind, conversation was little more than a parlour game.

     you harboured your mother’s beauty, the softness of her voice, the firmness of her skin and light in the corners of her smile. of your father, they’d say you inherited his wit, though that was your own — as was the golden hair that tousled your head, taken not from ambrose ballantyne but rather the bout of his three-week business trip to germany when your mother had bedded the gardener. if he knew, he never mentioned it. to believe such a fate would imply that he was not enough for her. though you noticed one day when you were nearing five and the sun was ripe on your freckle-flecked skin that the gardener had stopped coming at all. the grass, once shaven to its scalp, now grew to your knees.

     at school, you learned with porridge still clinging to your mouth that the way to win over your teachers was through your smile. yours was the kind of school where the christmas play was not the nativity but rather the story of the gods, and stardom came to you in the role of apollo, sun shining from your beaming face, a bright halo of hair around your head. this was the first time you noticed a coldness in nathaniel’s eyes as your father threw you over his shoulder and your mother drenched you in praise. a bout of food-poisoning on your brother’s part rendered the italian restaurant, visited in your honour, abandoned. you never did find out if he was faking.

     the room to his door remained shut after that and you learned to wile away your hours in the company of nannies and children from neighbouring castles, played at knights and rescued princesses from nearby dungeons, a tin-foil crown lopsided on your head. you learned to seek influence in the faces of those around you, how their eyes would widen as they hung like stalactites to your words. storyteller. prophet. riddler. prince. you cut your tongue into a well-kept sword and sparred with it thrice a day.

     by nine you had read all of dickens novels. by eleven, all of shakespeare’s comedies — though you understood them as much as a cricket knows the meaning of the cosmos. still, it sounded rich and impressive when asked by aunties at dinner parties, what are you reading in school, otto? he finds the curriculum tiring, your mother would say, stroking a hand through your thick head of hair. otto’s just finished the merchant of venice. soon you grew to ignore your brother’s glowers at your back. your mother’s was the only smile you needed.

     in cap and blazer your mother would drop you off at school, gated and turreted, the kind that was the envy of poorer neighborhood wives. when you were young, you were sure the gifts that came your way were yours alone, though as you grew older, you learned to expect them in the same way the school expected cheques from your parents. they named them benefactors, you noticed one day, on the wooden plaques fixed to the common room walls. the same plaques you would one day notice their names engraved upon in the arching hallways of sacred heart. acclaim was bought, not earned, and your success was littered with blood money.

     what’s a king without a kingdom? your father surely wanted you to inherit his, though it was not in law and corporal finance that you found yourself a castle, but rather upon the stage. when red curtains split, you found you could become anything with the power of your will — boy, man, lion, snake, each of them wrung out by wordsmiths dead in their graves, a certain romance in the dusky smell of stage lights. when every eye in the room was focused on you — that was when you felt most powerful. like a piece of art, you were something to be looked at and admired — and perhaps in the absence of self-earned merit your vanity blossomed, for even if the trophies that lined your cabinets and the a-grades in columns on a sheet came from heavy pockets, your parents could never buy the sound of applause.

     actors are by nature volatile. though your facade was swifter than an arrow, backstage they would call you tempestuous, bigoted, vain. still, it never left the wings of the theatre. there was a kind of reverence surrounding you that words could not taper, godliness following you from school to college, a peer admired in the practice rooms of sacred heart where you poured over chekhov and ibsen but yearned to read sophocles and euripides.

     you learned to pride yourself on your looks — a sharpened jawline and a sharper tongue — and found that people would do almost anything for a beautiful face. in the beginning, alice was one so much. first colleagues, then friends, then a frequenter to the table in your family’s house. with arrogance carried in the curve of your brow, you only ever saw her as an accessory. that changed when you met her brother, let yourself stumble, brogues in a size that differed from your own kicked beneath your bed, a shirt with a larger neck size, pulled sheets, the smell of a foreign cologne.

      talk travelled. it wouldn’t do to have word of your deviance spread further than the ballantyne house. while your parents would claim they were forward-thinking, more lenient than their parents had been, there was a conservative priggishness to the way they’d brush such matters under the rug, your father scarcely able to meet your eye over the dinner table. soon after, the arrangement was set with you all but exalted from the plans until alice had been informed. too late to back out, neither of you all that eager to be wed, though your families would coo when you fixed your hair or she, in keeping with the role, adjusted your tie. at first it amused you to play house with one such as alice, but soon you grew listless. like a caged beast you felt suffocated by the falseness of it all. you’d leave the dinners held by your joint households and return bedraggled, smelling of whiskey and sex. you’re not sure alice ever knew the reason why you couldn’t love her, though perhaps she suspected. at night, the names that would fall from your lips would never be hers. oliver. daniel. mason. rupert. charles.

act four: character investigation !

        otto’s an extremely materialistic character who obtains pleasure through the things you can buy in life rather than that which comes to you by way of humble experience. he likes rolex watches, armani suits, louis vuitton travel bags, silk scarves imported from india. he likes to drink wine from decades gone by, where he can almost taste the funk of a victorian farmer hand pressing the grapes into a pulp, or to read a manuscript from the special collections section of the library that he knows has passed through hands which have gone on to achieve greatness. to otto, alice was always an extension of this hedonistic, pleasure-seeking attitude — she was something to be paraded like the equestrian trophies on his bookshelf, or his name on the honour roll. it’s not that he didn’t see her as a person — he’s hardly a chauvinist, although it could easily be inferred from the disdain with which he talks to some women — but rather that he saw her as someone ethereal and admirable and of high social standing who would elevate his social standing, by extension, were he to spend time with her. (this was such a convoluted sentence omg sorry)

         the engagement was not his choice. even the idea of it had never crossed his mind. he had never thought to marry – marriage to otto was a tool used for financial gain — and being already wealthy, he was content to live out his days as a bachelor. he would take lovers, of course, but it would be on his own terms without the involvement of the law. alice was chosen as a match for otto because she was from a wealthy, well-liked family and the two had been friends since childhood. it seemed to their parents inevitable that they would marry, and so all that was left was the agreed arrangement between the families and the exchanging of rings. strictly speaking, if the marriage between otto and alice had gone ahead, then alice would have been nothing more than a trophy wife to otto. it would have been a miserable marriage for her, and he would have grown to resent her for it — not resent her for the fact that he could never truly be free to love someone he wanted (for he still would) but resent her, and by extension his family, for taking the option to do that openly and publicly away from him. she would always be seen as the beard, the scorned lover, the cuckold, and it would dampen any future relationships he held with the stain of that upset.

act five: wanted plots !

people who he was friends with as a child (either in london or cheltenham if anyone in this group has a muse from there) but grew apart from when he was sent to private school / they view him as entitled now and the two no longer have much in common

someone who auditioned for the same role as him, but otto got it, and they’ve resented him for it ever since !  want this bad. or put your thang down flip it and reverse it: someone who got the role otto wanted and he loathes them for it.

hasn’t really dated anyone? at college, he tends to hook up with people in a vapid sort of way? so he wouldn’t rEALly have past relationships with boys unless it was….. incredibly quiet and on the DL, literally meeting up in the woods after school to read plato and play with each others hair. suddenly realised i want this. someone give me someone he reads plato in the woods with and kisses up against tree bark because even though everyone basically KnOWS otto isn’t out n probably never will be :/

alternatively someone who he had a vapid, senseless hook up with and grew attached to  :/ rude.   in this house we lov angst

i guess some friends he actually likes would be cool. maybe someone who he has a hold over, because he’s quite an engaging character with good leadership qualities, like at parties he’ll be the one telling the story and gesticulating wildly and everyone’s watching him or looking to him for where they’ll go next / how the night will pan out. if he has a hold over someone maybe he has some sort of leverage whereby they’ll complete his work for him if he’s out getting drunk which he usually is. if tht sounds like ur character is naive n could be coerced, hit me up

people he knows on a very superficial and base level in the fact that their only interactions together involve doing coke off someone’s sink and stumbling home in the dark. otto’s a massive hedonist. if he were a greek god, he’d be a mix between dionysus and apollo, but he has achilles’ vanity.

[darthrena]

(Your Kisses) Taste like Come what May

Excerpt:

“I promise you will love her.  She’s funny, smart, absolutely gorgeous–Just one date is all I am asking.”

“What has gotten into you all of a sudden.  Is this girl on the run from ICE or something?”

“Armie asked me to marry him.”

Ben felt his world collapsing.  His mild amusement long forgotten under the weight of a thousand unspoken words, missed opportunities, and imagined confessions.

Rose’s voice seemed to come from far away.  "Ben?  Aren’t you going to say anything?“

Ben swallowed, forced his throat to produce sounds other than screaming, or worse, a sob.  Oddly, when his mouth felt capable of speech, it was a faint rasp, no hint of the tempest which roiled within.  "Congratulations.  You deserve to be happy.”

o-o-o-o-o-o

Summary:

Ben, Rose and Hux grew up together.  Ben loves Rose, but Rose and Hux are together.  After Rose and Hux become engaged, Rose tries to set Ben up with her friend Rey.  He reluctantly agrees to go on a date.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A step over the threshold and the familiar creaking of wood, weakened by time and salt-air, and aroma of hearty chowder and ale engulfing his senses, Ben knew he made the right choice.

Nestled between a trendy Korean tapas place and a shoe repair shop with flaking blue paint Ben could recall from his childhood, Takodana was sedate even on a Saturday night. Eclectic knick knacks ranging from a Rico Petrocelli bobblehead, a 1984 Bruce Springsteen poster yellowing at the edges, a carved wooden mask allegedly depicting a warrior of Venezuelan origin, to vibrant weavings of alpaca wool, lined the walls and cluttered the entrance way. Questionable decor aside, the whiskey, unpretentious beef stew, fries and a decent chowder on the menu had long ago made it Ben's favorite bar.

The proprietress, Maz, eyed him from beneath thick rimmed glasses and a bevy of judgement as he slipped into his favorite booth across from the bar. "Ben Solo," she drawled, giving little reassurance in either tone or posture, hands on hips and brow arched.

"Hey Maz," he greeted warily, as Maz stepped from behind the counter.

At last the petite lady put him out of his misery. "I ran into your mother the other day. Said you haven't been home since Christmas."

Right. It wasn't like Ben was avoiding his mother, at least, anymore than usual.  After quitting his job, and getting away from Snoke's insidious manipulations, it had been cathartic almost, reconciling with his mother and Uncle.  your father would be proud, his mother's voice hoarse with tears of grief and pride.  As lovely and neat as the story would appear on the cover or told over dinner parties when his mother was three Merlots in and giving him meaningful, tearful glances--prodigal son returned home and joined his mother's firm--things were still a bit strained.  Their specialties of law differing as they did, weeks could go by without seeing his mother at the office.  Ben made a concerted effort to call his mother once a month, or at least have Kaydel order her flowers or a bottle of wine when he couldn't bring himself to.  "I've just been busy," he mumbled, unable to summon even a modicum of coolness in the face of such obvious disapproval.

Maz tutted at the flimsy excuse, but seemed to relent slightly, moving back toward the bar.  "It'll be the usual then?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned but for the hub of other patrons chatting and the slight clink of glass as Maz's weathered hands deftly prepared his usual starting drink, an old fashioned.

Maz brought him his drink, laying it down on a lacy, crocheted coaster.  "You want the stew?  I also have a Saturday Chowder."

Ben twitched a smile.  "What makes it a Saturday Chowder again?"

"It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"So just the regular chowder then?"

The spry old lady made a swatting motion with a ladle nowhere near impacting him.  "Don't be fresh with me, Benjamin Organa Solo."

"Oh I wouldn't dare."  Ben took a savoring sip of his old-fashioned.  It was perfect as always.

Maz was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye that should have been a warning of the subject she had been warming up to.  "Just like your father, you are."

Ben forced himself to keep his shoulders from tensing.  It was easier now, breath in, breath out.  When he spoke, however, none of the grief and anger that had once roiled like an summer storm within him escaped.  "I guess so."

"You should go next week, Ben."  Maz's voice was so very gentle.  "Your mother needs you."

"I'll think about it."  Ben cleared his throat.  A burning feeling was crawling up his chest to gouge his eyes.  A judicious sip of his drink doused it slightly, but a distraction was welcome.  "I'll think about the Saturday chowder too.  Hux is joining me though, so I'll wait for him to order."

"Alright then."

After a brief pat against his shoulder, Maz went to attend to a middle aged couple across the bar, and Ben was left alone.

Three gnomes and a tarnished silvery ash tray shaped like a crab on the table beside him were his only company.  Ben spared them a slight smile touched with nostalgia.  The crab shaped ashtray had been a favorite as a child, tagging along with his Dad to Takodana on sweltering afternoons.  A whiff of tobacco, his father's gravely voice and lopsided smile, Don't tell your mother we came here instead of the zoo.

Ben had never minded.  Maz gave him coloring books and the best lemonade, sweating over lace doilies.  Uncle Chewie would drop by, ruffle his hair and tell stories about Mara, the Chieftain of Coquivacoa, who fought the Spanish Conquistadores, or of stomping through the rainforests of Java, weakened by Dengue fever and harangued by monkeys.

There was the sound of the bell ringing, a familiar red head ducking beneath a bright colored talisman.  Dark circles starkly shadowed Hux's steely green eyes, but he still lit up in a smile as his long strides brought him to the seat across Ben.

"Solo, sorry for running late.  Rose was piqued at the sudden boys night, and decided to distract me until I divulged the nature of our evening.  Alas, despite her efforts I kept mum."  Hux regarded him with raised eyebrows, a satisfied grin softening the highhanded tone.

Ben tried not to think too hard about the nature of the "distraction," while remarking dryly, "Easy enough when I haven't told you anything to divulge."

Hux remained unfazed.  "I had high expectations the lovely Rey would be featured."

Absurd though the impulse was, Ben felt a current of displeasure to hear his friend say her name so casually.  "You've met her?"

"Of course.  Rose has had her over several times.  As a fellow countryman, naturally I approve, but she's delightful company and holds her liquor well."

He thought back to the other night, of Rey, six drinks in straddling his face as he ate her out.  "That she does."

Old friends that they were, Hux allowed the topic to drop momentarily, waving over an only too happy Maz to place his order.

Food orders taken (Saturday chowder for Ben, the stew for Hux, with fries to share), Maz drew a IPA from the tap, while fixing her eager sights on Hux.  "'heard you finally made an honest woman of your girl.  Congratulations, dear.  Shame Rose couldn't come tonight."

Hux grinned back, the same beatific look he'd been sporting ever since Rose accepted his proposal lightening his naturally haughty features.  It was easier to focus on his glass and slowly diluting brown liquid as the ice melted, than Hux cheerfully accepting Maz's congratulations.  "--tonight's just us.  Rose sends her love."  Shooting Ben a wink he could do without, Hux continued slyly, "Perhaps next time we'll be back on a double date."

Fuck.

Maz swiveled with super human speed to bring the full throttle of her bespectacled gaze upon himself.  "Started seeing someone?" She cooed with feigned casualness than fooled no one.  Already Ben could sense the gears turning--Maz wasn't one for smartphones, but in the next 24 hours he imagined she would be calling on his mother for tea, or using Takodana's ancient rotary if she deemed the matter too pressing.

While glaring at an unrepentant Hux, Ben hurried to deescalate the conversation.  "It's nothing serious.  Hux is just giving me a hard time."

The man himself merely smiled innocently.  "Rose made it sound different.  Perhaps I misunderstood."

Maz seemed a little disappointed, if skeptical, but she left them to bring their orders to the kitchen.

Finally left alone, Hux dropped all pretense.  "Sorry, I had to tease you a little.  But you know Rey would love this place."

Rey would fit right in to Takodana.  It was easy to imagine Rey cozying across the booth, a tequila neat or a Belgian white ale in hand, cheeks flushed and hair loose as she gossiped with Maz and laughed too loud with Rose.  She would love hearing Uncle Chewie's tales that sounded half like fiction.  He could imagine her asking in that charming lilt about all the odd bops and bits in the shop, and telling her about the time he spilled a customer's beer over the velour bar seat or the time first he snuck a sip of alcohol and Dad had just laughed and Dad--

Dad would have loved her.

"Yeah, she would.""Ben..."  He glanced up at the rather serious tone, and solemn look Hux was sporting.  "Did you mean that?  About it being nothing serious."

Did he mean it?  He thought of Rose, smiling sadly as she told him, So do you, you know.  Of Rey's knowing hazel eyes.  You have feelings for Rose, don't you?

"I don't know," he admitted.

There was a sound of huffed laughter from his side.  "Dude, you have it bad."

Ben grimaced.  "Please, don't say Dude."

"Hombre."

"Please stop talking."

"Homie?"

The next couple hours passed in a blur of warm food and easy conversation.  Hux let Ben off the hook for the most part on the subject of Rey.  After Hux had drunkenly complained about the wedding planning for thirty minutes--"Why do we need to have a rehearsal dinner and a wedding?  Why must the party favors match the bridesmaid dresses?"-- Ben surprised himself by bringing it up.  Although, alcohol likely had somewhat to do with it.

"I don't know what to do about Rey."

"You should just call her, mate," Hux slurred with exasperation.

"And say what?" he snapped back.

Hux shrugged.  "I like you.  I want to date you?  Doesn't seem all that complicated."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.  His head felt muddled under the weight of alcohol and confusion of his emotions.  "On our date, I told her that I'm not looking for a serious relationship."

"And?"

"And now I don't know what to do."  Hux was poised to argue again, so Ben cut him off hastily, "I don't know what I want to do."

After a moment's pause, Hux rubbed his face blearily.  "Look, Ben, I think you're overthinking this.  How do you know she's looking for a serious relationship?  She's what, 25 years old?  If you want to see her, tell her you want to see her.  If you want to date her, tell her that."

That seemed...reasonable.

Hux was right.  He didn't have to have everything figured out just yet.

If he wanted to see Rey again, then he should just ask her.

Which was how he found himself standing on the corner as he waited for his cab, dialing Rey's number.

It rang a few times, a length sufficient for Ben's anxiety to stir to life restlessly, before a sleepy voice answered at the last ring.

"Hello?"

"It's Ben."

"Ben!"  The voice sounded much more awake now.  There was a low chuckle that sent a warm, molten pulse through his veins.  She must have been sleeping.  Ben wondered idly if Rey slept bare as she had in his company, or if she wore a ratty t-shirt over panties, if her nipples pressed through the thin fabric.  His fantasies were interrupted by Rey continuing with obvious amusement, "I was following the advice of all those Just Seventeen magazines I read growing up, and planned to text you in the morning.  Seems like it paid off."

"Oh."  Ben considered this information for a moment.  "I read mostly read F&SF.  The fantasy and science fiction magazine.  They didn't offer much dating advice."

Now Rey laughed full out.  "No, I'd imagine not," she replied after catching her breath.

"I want to see you again."

Inebriated though he was, Ben could detect the smile in Rey's voice.  "We literally just saw each other this morning."

"Technically it was yesterday."

"That should tell you something of the appropriateness of your phone call."

Oops.  "Sorry."

There was another huff of laughter over the receiver that briefly whited the sound.  "Look Ben..."

That beginning was not promising.  Nerves bubbling up his gut, Ben was helpless against the flow of babble as he cut her off: "I can't stop thinking about you.  The way you taste.  Your cunt clenching on my tongue, the sounds you make when you come.  And the way you laugh.  Whether you like green tea tiramisu or hate IPAs."

"Fuck, Ben."  There was a weak laugh on the other end, overwhelmed and something else his alcohol impaired brain couldn’t translate.  "Are you always like this?"

"No," he breathed back.  "Not at all.  Never."

"Ben."  Her voice was a sweet sigh.  There had never been a more lovely sound than her lips around his name.  "I want you too.  It's just, well, what about Rose?"

"Rey."

His mind was in free fall.  The ground beneath his feet had slipped away.  What about Rose?  He loved her, didn't he?  He grasped at bits of thoughts, stray feelings, a warmth that was Rose's smile and nose scrunched in glee, and a smoldering burn that was Rey's lips parted in ecstasy--but those sum of parts defied revelation, no, he refused to summate them.  He was vaguely aware of his panicked breathing, but remained in paralyzed impasse.  When Rey spoke, her voice was tentative and gentle and far better than he deserved.

"Ben?  It's alright.  I understand."

"You understand?" he repeated dumbly.  How could she make sense of what he barely comprehended?

"Yes."  There was a pause, and a hitch in Rey's breathing.  "Well, you want something more casual.  I get it.  We had a lot of fun together.  But if you don't mind, I'd like to think it over.  Maybe you should too, when you aren't drunk."

No, that's not what he meant.  Tell her now.  Open your mouth.  "Oh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There was a pause that stretched on and on.

Then.

"Goodnight, Ben."

His name spoken like a caress lingered in his mind long into sleep.

Also posted on AO3

[jennbabeyy]

Deja Vu.

A/n: This was inspired by J.Cole’s song “Deja Vu.” If you haven’t heard it, I recommend listening to it while reading this. Hope you enjoy!

“These quiet thoughts of you been going on for years now

I saw you in the party soft lips soft spoken”

Ez made his way down a familiar street as he followed his brothers on his motorcycle. As the prospect he had no idea where they were going, usually he just followed orders from anyone. He looked over to his right side were Angel was riding next to him, his brother looked over and shrugged his shoulders. It was the causal “Don’t worry about it” gesture that Angel would do when it came to the Mayans.

All of this thoughts faded away when they stopped in front of a house, a couple minutes away from the clubhouse. He kept his mouth shut as they walked the path up to the front door. Bishop opened the door, like he owned the place, before being stopped by Marcus Alvarez aka El Padrino. It didn’t take Ez long to realize they were at his family home, his eyes followed the pictures on the wall. Different pictures of a family were hanging, he recognized Marcus in many of them. It was a side that he didn’t see of Marcus Alvarez, usually he was stoned face every time he was around.

“Primo, you’re just in time. The carne asada is almost ready. Make your way to the backyard brothers, I have to talk to Bishop.” Marcus threw his arm around his cousin’s shoulder, as Ez followed Angel inside the house. By the way Angel was walking with confidence with Coco and Gilly, it seemed that they had already been here before.

He was met by a woman who was hugging everyone in front of him, she had a motherly comfort to her. It made Ez smile faintly as his own mother came to mind. She made her way, stopped right before him, which made him slightly nervous. Diana Alvarez had made a name for herself in Santo Padre, other than just being Marcus Alvarez’s wife. But Ez has never came face to face with her until now.

“So here’s the new prospect” She smiled at him, as she came closer. Almost as if she was trying to figure out why he was there in the first place. Ez never had plans to be apart of the Mayans, even in jail but he was starting to realize that maybe he was meant for this. Riding along his brother.

“Yes, ma’am.” He heard his brother snort in laughter as his voice came out a little more shaky than usual.

Alvarez’s wife waved them off, “Don’t listen to them mijo, help yourself to anything.”

With that she patted him on the back, leaving Ez alone for awhile nowhere to go. His eyes scanned the pretty big backyard. It was filled with people who didn’t know, except his Mayan brothers.  

A head with dark hair caught Ez’s attention, it fell down her back in waves. Her hair looked soft and Ez fought the urge to run his hands through her hair. She was wearing dark jeans that fitted her well, and a flowy white top. And when the sun hit her, it was like an Angel appeared in front of him.

A hard nudge to his shoulder awoke Ez from his thoughts, looking to his side his brother stood with a grin on his face. His nodded his head in the direction where he knew she was still standing.

“She a beauty huh?” Angel handed Ez a beer, for the first time since he was prospecting he didn’t have to get one for everyone else.

Ez cleared his throat, not wanting for it for be obvious for staring. Shrugging his shoulder, he took a drink of his beer. The last thing he wanted was to make eyes at one of his brother’s woman.

“Too bad she’s Alvarez’s goddaughter, she’s off limits brother.” Angel spoke at the same time she turned around finally revealing her face. Her smile was buried deep in his mind, one that he hadn’t thought about in years.

Ez almost dropped his beer, taking in the familiar face.

“Natalie” he whispered her name.

Getting over his shock, Ez made his way towards the table that was filled with only Mayan members. Their table was rowdy, and his brothers took their time eating the delicious food that Diana cooked for everyone. But he was quiet, his appetite slowly fading away, as he heard the laugh from the other side of the patio. She stood there between Marcus and Bishop, laughing at whatever they were saying. He saw the loving look on Alvarez’s face. She was like his unofficial daughter.

Natalie.

She was no longer that awkward girl who used to go to his dad’s shop. On days that Ez would help out, he would look forward to seeing her with a list of meats her mom needed. Over time they built a friendship, one that most people didn’t know about. Mostly because he only saw her when she came by. That was years before he went to prison. He never forgot about her, he just stored her deep in his mind.

She was confident now, and by the way she stood tall, Ez knew she had made something out of her. There was something about that, that made her even more attractive. It was beyond her looks. It took him back to the days they would speak about going to school and getting out of their town. They both had big dreams.

Ez always wondered in those years in prison if things would be different if he had went after her instead of Emily. Where would they be if he would’ve acted on his feelings.

“I came and talked to you but homie interfered now

He introduced you as his girl and I was heartbroken”

Ez waited, sitting at the table. Everyone around him was in deep conversation. But his mind was somewheres else. His eyes followed every movement she was making, she was currently helping Diana bring the rest of the food inside.

When she was finally alone, Ez made his move. Standing up from the table, he grabbed his empty plate.

Clearing his throat, Ez caught her attention. He watched the way her eyes lit up when she recognized him. It was gone as soon as she saw his prospect patch. He knew what she was thinking. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to be a prospect for the Mayans.  

“Ezekiel” Her voice was still the same. And his mind instantly went to the days she would scream his name every time he tried to chase her with the raw meat at his dad’s shop.

“Hey Natty, how are you?”  She blushed at her childhood nickname, and he realizes that it must’ve been years since someone had called her that. Preferably him.

The smile on his face faded when he saw an arm appeared around her shoulders and pull her closer to them. He recognized him from school, he was one of those who made it out. Full scholarship ride, it should’ve been him.

She’s uncomfortable with the sudden PDA, Ez could see it. But the way the man looked at her with love in his eyes. He knew. She was someone else’s.

“Oh shit, is that Ezekiel. It’s been a while bro. How you been?”

It took him a while to reply, though his eyes lingered on the arm that protectively wrapped around her. He didn’t have to ask what he’s been up to, his dad already told him that he became a doctor. Ez’s mind went back to his early conversations with Natalie and wanting to become a nurse, she always wanted to help people. She was the one who cleaned him up after a fight at school.

 It made sense.

“You remember Natalie right? She was a year younger than us. This my girl. How lucky am I?”

Ez fought the urge to punch the grin right off his face. But he held back. He couldn’t, not in front of his brothers. He was on Mayan territory, literally.

Instead, he quietly congratulated them and walked away. He felt her eyes on him, the entire way back to his seat.

“I catch your eye then look away as if it never happened”

For the rest of the night, Ez felt her eyes on him. But he stood strong, laughing with Angel. Making jokes with Coco. He put on a mask, shoving his feeling aside.

He took his last sip of beer, and made the mistake of looking in her direction.

His brown eyes took in her light hazel ones. And the memories that they both shared instantly came to life.

Then came one memory, one that he tried to bury way deep in his mind. One that he hadn’t thought about in years. He could still picture her eyes watering when he told her he was seeing Emily. Especially after she had told him about her feelings, her feelings about him. He was heartless and pushed her away. Emily was the safe choice, she wasn’t Marcus Alvarez’s goddaughter. His dad warned him about Natalie. And selfishly he made the wrong choice.

Clenching his jaw he tore his eyes away from hers. His heart clenching in pain, seeing the look of pain flashing on her face.

“If eyes could talk then mines would tell ya that I'm feeling you

Sometimes I swear your eyes be telling me the same thing.”

After driving away from Marcus Alvarez’s house, he left her there. He made sure his mind was busy with the club, so that he wouldn’t think about her. Ez didn’t want to live in the past. He’s been doing that for the 8 years he spent in jail.

He didn’t deserve her. He never did.

The world didn’t seem to think so. He saw her again. Sitting on his motorcycle, he found himself staring at her again. This time it was like she sensed him, she met his eyes. It was quick but he swore he knew that look. It was one that made his heart beat faster when he was younger. It gave him hope.

Secretly he wanted to be with her again, in every way. She was once his best friend above anything. But he just wanted her to be his again. This time for real.

“They say it's just a matter of time

And if I had my way then you would be mine”

[momestuck]

Epilogues: Candy, chapters 1-5

This is gonna get long.

The Candy route is, in effect, the route where John refuses to go back to finish off Lord English, but remains on Earth C. Instead, the story begins by picking up another long neglected thread: Gamzee. Then it continues to various other places.

Contains: a rough recap of Gamzee’s story, a longwinded attempt to be evenhanded and not callous about the Gamzee Discourse, because it’s relevant again... and then I read the next three chapters, which visit some of the other characters, setting up the board for the new story (because let’s be real, this is a whole new story of its own at this point!)

a quick recap

It’s been three years since the comic ended so I’m gonna recap what I remember about Gamzee’s story. He was sent on a murderous rampage in the ‘murderstuck’ arc - there’s some debate if he was acting according to his own will, or that of Lord English’s agents, there, but either way he killed a large number of the ‘beta trolls’. He was ultimately stopped by Karkat, who deployed the ‘shoosh pap’ of establishing moirallegiance. During the three year meteor voyage, he entered into some kind of very harmful kismesis relationship with Terezi, but got very little screen time. And uh... then I get confused.

In the “game over” arc, he is mind controlled - I recall by Aranea - and used to bring about the deaths of most of the cast. This, of course, was retconned. Also I think I skipped over a bit.

And, in some capacity, he was present when Caliborn won the contest for dominance with Calliope. He assisted the young Caliborn’s villainous plan, and for his trouble got repeatedly shot to pieces, which he took silently.

And at some point he got locked in a fridge by the rest of the cast. We briefly see him get knocked about in there during ‘Collide’, and then he makes no further appearance.

Let’s go on the Homestuck wiki and see what I missed...

while under the sway of Lord English (murderstuck arc), he caused some of the kids to receive Lil Cal and a harlequin doll, which is what made their session ‘terminal’

he intervened in the alpha session, and was responsible for the prototypings of various dead trolls into combined forms

this:

The fridge remained on LOTAK until Lord Jack was decapitated which resulted in a black hole, somehow taking Gamzee, Crowbar's crowbar and Yaldabaoth to future Earth.

so i guess i missed that in all the chaos of Collide, but that explains how he ended up in Caliborn’s world.

also crucially, half of Gamzee is absorbed into Lil Cal along with Caliborn and Arquiussprite, which creates Lord English, the series villain.

so anyway...

The initial premise of this story is: John decides to remain in the C universe and enjoy his life instead of living in an undecisive fugue, rather than go out to fight Lord English and wrap up that side of the plot. Calliope makes a request of him: he should use his retcon powers to pull Gamzee out of the plot, someone ‘only he can save’.

The second chapter is basically a very sarcastic discourse post in Gamzee’s voice. Shortly after being rescued, Gamzee goes onto a long speech about how he’s prepared to redeem himself, and the ‘mitigating factors’ that make him worthy of redemption: (an ‘abusive childhood’ at the hands of his goat dad, and his socialisation). I’ll excerpt a bit to give you the general flavour, with the typing quirk removed for readability:

gamzee: i been all like. abused and stuff, homies.

gamzee: as a child, i got motherfuckin neglected on by a stern old fatherly goat.

gamzee: i was a disappointment on him, and can’t says i blame him for abandoning the shit out of his useless kid.

gamzee: i woulda motherfuckin done the same shit at me if i was a big cruel goat.

gamzee: so that explains like, pretty sure most of my crimes in a way that makes a motherfucker wanna take his forgiveness out for a fucking spin.

gamzee: there’s other reasons to consider, like...

gamzee: shit that makes this redemption arc fuckin tight like an uncracked elixir.

gamzee: like, hows my purple blood meant i got the culture pressures put on me to be a salty damn jester for life.

gamzee: what about that hand the messiahs dealt me, my bitches.

gamzee: a motherfucker’s gonna envy that like a wicked cod rash.

gamzee: so how can i full and truly fuckin get blamed on for, when it comes to a little bit of subjugglation i got culturally hornswoggled up to doing, and also tragically goat abused which needs to make you shed a tear for this motherfucker, lest you wanna be as atrocious as me.

This is reminiscent of V’s episodes in Friendsim, insofar as - we’re clearly not intended to buy it, but it’s directly mocking lines of argument in the fandom, about whether it’s ok to be a fan of Gamzee (because fandom is all about casting moral judgement on finding that you relate to fictional characters’ narratives in the wrong way, justifying your own attachments to characters and works as progressive, etc...).

By putting these arguments in a very explicit and ridiculous form (having Gamzee speak on whether he personally deserves a ‘redemption arc’), and then having the narrator and also popular characters such as Terezi dismiss them, V’s stance is fairly clear - at least these particular readings of Gamzee are to be dismissed. Terezi comments:

JOHN: apparently we’re going to let him have a “redemption arc”?

TEREZI: H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4

JOHN: yeah, it’s...

JOHN: well, what is there to even say?

JOHN: it’s literally the dumbest fucking idea i’ve ever heard, but what can you do.

TEREZI: SHOV3 H1M B4CK 1N TH4T FR1DG3 4ND THROW 1T 1N TH3 OC34N, 1S WH4T

There’s two ways the story can go from here. One might be that this is the last we’re going to hear about Gamzee, it’s just a quick fuck you to one particular set of readings of Homestuck, and then on to whatever V considers more important. Another is that, a more subtle story is about to be told than the deliberately absurd framing here.

I should state my own stance, since it’s probably going to be relevant. I had a friend who cared a great deal about Gamzee, in part because he was essentially a chew toy in the latter part of the comic, who could be treated violently without consequence, which - as far as I understand their feelings - my friend found meaningful in relation to their own experiences of abuse.

I recall thinking there was some credence to ‘mind control’ interpretations, which posit that the difference between Gamzee’s chill affect early on and his ludicrously violent behaviour later was the control of Doc Scratch and other agents of Lord English; Gamzee in this reading is aware, and horrified (as hinted at by a brief window where Aranea’s mind control is released during the Game Over arc and he is ‘himself’ again, and cries and begs for mercy, before once again becoming extremely violent). Whether this is the case during the ‘fridge’ section is not clear. This goes some way to explaining why Gamzee is indestructible, and mutely devoted to assisting Caliborn when Caliborn treats him with nothing but violence.

In this reading, Gamzee is a tragic character to the point of absurdity. He is forced to witness another person committing horrific actions with his body, and then abandoned by those who’d care for him because they do not recognise the mind control. His only escape from one mind controller is another one.

However, that’s just a reading. For fans who identify strongly with Terezi, Gamzee is often interpreted as her abuser due to the effect his relationship is shown to have during the asteroid voyage (pre-Game Over). To these readers, people - such as my friend - who identify with Gamzee are engaging in apologetics for abuse.

Because this is so fraught, I am not going to make any claim that a particular reading of Gamzee is ‘unambiguously true’. I think a third interpretation is the ‘shitty writing’ one, that Hussie basically intended Gamzee as a joke character, not one with interiority. He’s a scary clown! Perhaps he didn’t realise how strongly this character, who from the start was presented as someone to laugh at, would resonate with the readers.

I hope that this discussion gives some sense of the different possible nuances of Gamzee, and I am hoping that this epilogue will not simply be a polemic for one particular reading.

now, chapter 3+

I read the first two chapters right after I heard about the upd8. From now on, this will be a true ‘liveread’, i.e. written alongside my first readthrough of the story.

At this point we switch viewpoint character to Dirk! This is a very short chapter: Dirk cancels ‘everything’ - all his ongoing plans - and does not explain why to Jane, or Jake. Whatever the reason is, it’s very bad news and has a short time limit.

Apparently John’s decision to say has had some kind of metaphysical effect, which causes Rose’s mysterious malady - and her various anxieties concerning ‘canon’ - to dissipate.

So she gets to spend some time with Kanaya. This is nice - we barely got to see Rose and Kanaya together as a couple in canon. It’s a sweet conversation... and makes me worry about what’s going to happen in the ‘Meat’ route.

There’s a little clarifying on Jade, Dave and Karkat’s relationship now...

JADE: i never thought id be thinking of you as my weird nerd friend by the time we were in our twenties

It’s a weird, intimate, and uncomfortably close to sexual thing to be doing in front of other people. Dave and Karkat share a vaguely mortified look. Jade sort of lives here, but she doesn’t that sort of live here.

The expression is so warm and blatant that it can’t help but draw Jade’s attention. She frowns and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, making some quick calculations in her head. They’re so obvious, she thinks, and yet here they are. Virginal losers who are performative about sitting exactly a foot apart whenever they’re in public. It’s so pathetic it makes her want to howl at the moon in sorrow. 

so i guess we’re going to have a jade working very hard on getting dave and karkat together type arc

well i guess we are but oof, jade what the hell... jade decides to like, go in with all the subtlety of a train, aggressively flirt with karkat, up to the point of like, putting her fingers in his mouth... which to him is just like, a straight up assault. but it’s them who are ‘hopeless’, not her...

dave very awkwardly changes the subject to talk about the possible Jane presidency. apparently, Jane is very xenophobic towards trolls (which didn’t seem immediately apparent from the comic but I might have forgotten tbh). Karkat speaks of ‘the potential genocide of my people’

DAVE: but i dont think shed go so far as to commit genocide

DAVE: thats really exaggerating her faults

DAVE: like wed have to get pretty far away from the people we were when we started all this for that to be a viable outcome

...phrasing it like that... makes me rather apprehensive!