#actually the costume room itself haunts my dreams

[avantroodles]

Spoiler alert, the perverts did not stop pinching Booker's ass.

And Bitsy is zooted out of her gourd due to the... allergy medication... the Flylers' family doctor funneled into her open mouth down in the dungeo- I mean infirmary.

Episode 6, they're on their way to the open bar, hand in hand, the train and the leather daddy. What a pair... What a pair.

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay Visuals - addendums and interesting BTS stuff (part 2/3)

I explained everything in the first part, go find it here. Let's keep going!

(Part 2 below the cut)

We Don't Talk About Bruno: "Also I'm pretty sure I heard from someone that Geoff's "ruana" is in fact just a regular blanket/piece of fabric draped (possibly secured/pinned) over his shoulders" - Yeah pretty much, except specifically it was tied behind his back/over his shoulders - You wanna know how Cesar just seemingly pulled that umbrella out of nowhere? Well it was hidden behind him! Or more perhaps more precisely, his behind hid it! 😂 (His glutes definitely got a workout that day!)

"(Oh and this section really was slowed down in post-production in order to make the petals (and hair flips!) look nice, and so both Ashley and Geoff were having to sing/lip-sync to sped up versions of their vocal lines!)" - Tis true! That whole section was done in basically double speed during filming, and slowed-down in post (the reverse of what Geoff did for his Monster Mash video actually), which makes the resulting footage extra impressive tbh - Also I didn't specify in my original post, but Geoff isn't just wearing the floral blouse - he's wearing the same pink shorts as Ashley as well! 😂 - Bonus fun fact: the little rat on Geoff's shoulder was remote-controlled!

Dream On: "(Also this was filmed in some old school I believe? I think maybe Cesar's old school or something?)" - Right on the first count, wrong on the second - this was Eli's former high school! (Very much no longer in use as a school though, obviously) - It was filmed in Leesburg, which is an hour away from Orlando apparently, and since there was obviously no decent part of the building to be used as a breakroom or dressing room or whatever, they brought a production coach, the same one that got used for the same purpose for the Panic Medley filming in fact! - The shirt/top that Geoff wore in the video was quite tight-fitting apparently, and he needed additional assistance from Kathy to get it fully pulled down (she helped while still filming) - Still not entirely sure what Layne is wearing on top of his shirt, but it seems to be just draped over his shoulders, idk

Running Up That Hill: - They put a lot of effort into recreating That Scene from Stranger Things, like they had pieces of paper with shots from the TV series and annotations written on it and everything! - The jacket that Geoff had tied around his waist in the video is like some black bomber jacket/letterman-style thing, and he was wearing it sometimes in between takes and ngl he looks good in it, like I almost kinda wish he had been properly wearing it in the video.

"Based on the very-fixed and very-specific shots we get of Ashley while she's "levitating", I'm guessing this was more done via clever editing and post-production work rather than anything like harnesses to actually lift her in the air" - Well, while it is true that editing trickery was favoured over harnesses, there was actually a bit more practicality involved than what I guessed/imagined. Idk how much I should reveal, but let's just say that Ashley had to use some muscles for it!

Hide And Seek (Ding Dong!): "I love the ghostly visual effects on Lauren, with the glowy ethereal outline of her silhouette, and the slight translucence on her dress!" - The effect also helps conceal the fact that she wasn't in the studio with them at all! Magic of greenscreen, just like with VoicePlay's Enemy video! In fact, Layne took a very quick flight to Nashville, Tennessee to help Lauren record her parts, before quickly flying back to Orlando, Florida (in time to beat an oncoming hurricane!)

"I have a feeling that the lighting on [Layne] is such that it makes him look like an actual Haunted Mansion/Disney Parks ride animatronic (especially when combined with deliberate movement/acting choices in the video)" - I mean yeah, maybe, but also tbh it's also just the whole makeup/costume itself - even in the BTS footage he didn't look fully "human"/"real" when in the full costume. - Fun fact: Layne also had black food colouring in his mouth to further add to the whole look! Wild!

"Absolutely loving Cesar's makeup in this one ngl (I wonder whether he coloured his face and/or hair blue for filming this or if that was just all done via editing?)" - That was all thanks to Rick Underwood! His hair and face really were that blue! (Not all his hair though, just the front section of it). - I still have questions about Geoff's makeup though - didn't get to see much of the process in the BTS video, rip. - The floating crystal ball was a practical effect, done with fishing wire and a pulley system controlled by Tony!

Golden Hour: - So the greenscreening of the heads was done a little differently to how I imagined, and Geoff's hair did in fact look just like that during the filming - it's not just the editing - This is actually the second version of the video that was created - Patrons were initially presented with a different video (which I haven't actually watched but heard about in the BTS) with a slightly different setting and alterations to the story (Layne came up with a few different ideas in fact). - Also I may be slightly colourblind, because I thought that vest was maroon, but it's actually just brown, lol rip.

Valhalla Calling: "check out the set! I like the shields in the background." - Everything other than the benches and props in the foreground was completely digital! They filmed in front of huge digital screens (and I mean HUGE) that had the pre-designed backgrounds displayed on them! - Y'know how all the guys were wearing furs and heavy layers of clothing and all that? Yeah well apparently on the day of filming, the air conditioning at Vu Studios was busted, RIP (Rick Underwood had to help blot away some of their sweat between takes!)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

[nightshade-minho]

MOONSTORM [ iii ]

You know that feeling when you know you’ve made a terrible mistake?

Yes. That feeling.

It’s a feeling that never really goes away. You had to learn that the hard way.

Irrevocable actions, stupid mistakes. You were heart-wrenchingly familiar with all of it.

To err was human apparently. You...weren’t human, though.

It seems like being superhuman was insignificant, after all. At the end of the day, nothing mattered. None of your powers did.

Despite it all, you still lost him.

warnings: depressing shit (it gets better though dw) mentions of death, violence, sexual content, future smut

wc: 2.8k

moonstorm masterlist

It felt like the world had lost all color.

It had happened so many months ago, and yet it still felt like it happened just yesterday. The memories of stumbling out of his lair, covered in his blood and your tears, still fresh in your mind.

The image of his face, betrayed and yet so calm as he uttered those last words to you...it haunted you constantly.

You found yourself looking at the moon every night, dreaming about what could have been. The nightmares endlessly plagued your sleep as well, causing you to fear even your own bed.

No...even after Hyunjin's effects on you wore off, your own brain took on the responsibility of torturing you by conjuring up more heartbreaking dreams. Dreams which made you long for something you knew you’d lost forever- never to be yours again.

You never truly realized how much you’d gotten used to having him around. Life was so glaringly empty and meaningless without him. It was a complicated relationship…and yet it still left a giant hole in you. An all-encompassing despair that threatened to swallow you up.

With him gone, it just didn’t feel right to be a superhero anymore. How could you be the strong role model for everyone in the city to rely on when you knew just how weak you’d become? Even when the newspapers were covered with your heroics, even as the mayor addressed the city and expressed his desire to give you a medal for stopping yet another supervillain from roaming the streets- you stubbornly refused to don that costume ever again.

You stayed hidden through it all. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go out in public anymore. Your vigilante costume lay forgotten in the back of your closet- crumpled and sad.

It just...felt wrong. At the moment you felt nothing but pathetic. You didn’t have time to waste saving a snotty kitten stuck on a tree or stop a petty criminal from robbing a bank- all you were fit to do was eat ice cream straight from the can, and watch a soulless movie. The same routine, day in and day out. You hadn’t left your apartment in nearly a month, not even to buy groceries. Every second was spent wrapped up in blankets, pondering what you’d done.

Was that selfish of you? Probably. You were discovering new flaws by the second.

Sighing, you sat up a little, your ass almost numb from how long you’d spent lying down. Glancing up, you saw your father’s portrait looking down at you. You swallowed and slowly stood up from your bed, groaning to yourself. Why did he suddenly seem so disappointed?

Maybe a little bit of fresh air is what you needed, considering you were starting to believe the paintings were changing expressions. After all, you had work to do anyway- might as well take advantage of the nearby café’s free WiFi.

***

Here at last.

You sat down in the corner of the café, so tired you could barely move a muscle. But you had to get a move on with your life- the recovery should have happened by now.

And yet here you were, months later. Nothing seemed to be able to fill the hole he left behind, and even now you wished you could go back home as soon as possible.

Had it...had it been a mistake?

Of course it had. Your misery was evidence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could convince yourself that you’d done it for the good of the city.

The truth was... Hwang Hyunjin scared you.

He made you feel things, made you want to be someone else entirely. Every ounce of rigidity and austerity you’d imposed in yourself disappeared every time you were with him. He made you want to give everything up- give up all the responsibilities and burdens you carried on your shoulders to be with him. To be like him- free.

It wasn’t Hyunjin who was a threat to the city. No, not directly.

It was you- or rather the lack of you.

This city needed you to survive, and if Hyunjin managed to change you...it surely wouldn’t have lasted long without your help. Hyunjin had never really been the city’s biggest threat- there were far worse villains and it was them who you really fought against.

He was more of just an inconvenience, someone you had to deal with from time to time. And then he’d struck that deal- after which the nature of your relationship had turned into something entirely different.

Every time he acted up, it was usually just a ploy to get your attention. And attention was exactly what he got. You’d reinforced his behavior like an idiot.

You told yourself it was a chore, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d loved spending those nights in his bed, loved the way he was an expert at making you come undone with his body and his words.

It really had seemed like a good idea at the time. The right thing to do. However, it was quickly starting to seem like anything but.

You sighed as your mind tried its best not to travel back all those months. Dipping a teabag into the liquid, you mindlessly observed the customers in the cafe. Many of them were young, teenagers who were heading out before class.

You sighed as you recalled your own high school days, the times Hyunjin and you had hung out in a cafe much like this one.

“You don’t have to help me with this project, you know.”

“Ah, shush. It’s our final year. I’m not going to leave you alone.” He smiled as he flipped through his books, taking a sip of his coffee occasionally.

“You act like you’re not sticking to me like white on rice the rest of the year.” You roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself.

“Don’t get snippy with me, missy.” He smirked, still thumbing the pages nonchalantly. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

“You- I- what?” You wouldn’t admit it, but the thought caused a fluttering sensation in more than one place. It was a little bit of a shock, considering the two of you had done nothing more than make out and flirt, until now.

“Chill. I’m kidding.” He shook his head, looking up at you. “Unless…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop it! I’m supposed to be working right now.” You whined, swatting him with a rolled up paper.

“I don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Hm...do you know what I’m thinking of right now, Y/n?”

“W-what?”

“Thinking about how easy it would be to slip my fingers under your skirt and play with that pretty pussy of yours. I’m pretty sure it’s soaked your underwear through by now.”

Fuck.

Your cheeks flushed as you stared at your plate. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly- his mere words had already turned you to a mess.

“S-shut up.” You mumbled, reading out formulas aloud as you tried to divert your attention from it. Hyunjin let out a teasing chuckle at your lame attempt to change the topic, shaking his head as he stared at his book again, unaware you were looking over your own at him, pressing your thighs together subtly.

God, he was so...so annoying.

You snapped out of it, sighing as you looked around at the much less crowded cafe. Had it always looked so dull? So lifeless?

The thought of him was hurtful- it felt like a dull knife, screwing itself into you. Reminding you what you’d done.

You’d killed the love of your life.

And now? There was no way to bring him back.

***

“Murder is never something a superhero should resort to. A good hero always stays true to themselves- they only kill if it’s absolutely necessary.”

A cough.

“But of course...villains are exempt from that rule. Killing one villain’s life could save countless others.”

Hm. You weren’t exactly sure if your father was right. Although you were just a child, you still had some knowledge of morality.

Was he? Killing just...seemed wrong. You didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it, no matter how evil the person was.

“Surely there are other ways to neutralize someone evil, Father?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, before shaking his head coldly. “Untrue.”

“The truth is, some lives are expendable, my dear Y/n…” Another cough, before he cleared his throat and fixed his gaze back on you.

“You must always look for the greater good.”

***

You still remembered the day you first met Hyunjin.

He was 13, and you were just a little younger. Your families were good comrades and allies, so your eventual meeting had already been planned.

The two of you were in the living room with everyone else as they talked to each other, mingling and chattering like adults usually did. Hyunjin and you made an unanimous decision to sneak out to the rooftop, and get to know each other better.

“So...our parents are allies now, hm? This means we’re going to see each other a lot more.”

“Of course we are! We’re both prodigies, like my dad and your mom...we inherited their powers, so they’re obviously going to want to cultivate those.”

“You speak pretty fancy for a 12 year old.”

“Hey, so do you! Besides, we’re gifted, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He sighed, swinging his legs and inhaling. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again.

“Do you actually like having these powers?”

“Oh? Well, yeah...I do...my father tells me stories of his days as a superhero. I want to help people, just like him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d much rather live a normal life. Get a normal job, find someone to love, and have a normal marriage in a normal town.”

You pressed your lips together. “To each their own, I guess. Personally, I just want to get rid of all the evil in the world and make my father proud.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Evil…” He tapped his chin. “How does one even know the difference between good and evil?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure it would be obvious in every situation.”

“I disagree. The distinction is blurry. No one knows for sure, and definitely not at first glance.” He sighed. “I would know.”

You brought your knees to your chest as you observed the city below. “Well, I guess you’re right…” you paused, your heart feeling a little heavy for some reason.

“Do you know?”

“The line between good and evil is thin, Y/n. I can’t say I know for sure. But do you know what will always help you remember?”

“What?”

“Your heart.” He said softly, glancing at you and offering you a small smile.

“Just do whatever feels right...trust yourself.”

***

You sighed and shut your laptop.

Home. You needed to go home, cause your heart ached too much. You definitely weren’t ready to go back to work yet. You hadn’t done anything productive today really, just drink coffee and reflect on your actions. Regretting....regretting it all.

It’d been wrong. The wrong choice, the wrong decision.

You knew that, now. There could have been another way. You shouldn’t have rushed into it like that...how could you?

You felt a surge of hatred towards yourself engulf you. It was all your fault, this pain you were feeling. You didn’t have anyone to direct this immense anger towards except yourself. You realized this little fact in horror, your heart clenching as you wished things could have been different.

Finishing off your coffee, you placed a few bills on the table as you left the café, heading home. Ready to burrow under the blankets again, wallow in your self pity and pain. There wasn’t much else to do except succumb to acceptance.

You made your way down the street, humming the saddest song you knew under your breath.

All of a sudden, you felt eyes burning into your back. Your own eyes widening slightly, you turned around quickly-

But there was no one there.

Weird. Sighing, you decided to go back to going over your plans for tonight in your mind.

Maybe watch a movie in hopes of triggering some sort of emotion in you...or maybe take a bath, light some candles and listen to depressing music- shit.

It happened again. Someone was following you- you could feel it. Uncomfortable, your breathing slowly started getting heavier as you tried to formulate some kind of plan in your head-

The next thing that happened was so sudden you barely registered it for a second.

Your hand was gripped, so tightly you felt it would bruise. Aggressive, shocking and swift as lightning- it took several seconds before you realized someone was trying to kidnap you.

“Stop! Leave me alone!”

Struggling against the person holding you, you caught a glimpse of the masked man and decided to scream, hoping to gain some attention from somebody, anybody. There was no way this was happening, not right now. Your day had already been bad enough, why was the universe so intent on rubbing salt in your wounds?!

The urge to fight had never been stronger. Yet there was no strength left in your body. You couldn’t fight back against this man- he was taller than you and somehow even matched you in strength. Unless you exposed your powers, there was no way you would get yourself out of this predicament. Somehow you managed to smack him with your arm weakly, making him hiss.

“Let me go, please!”

The coffee cup fell out of your hand, brown liquid spilling all over the ground as you were pulled into the dark alley so quickly, no one would notice. Your eyes darted about in panic, trying to work out a possible escape route when the masked man caged you in, his arms on either side of you.

A horrible sense of déjà vu enveloped you. It’s all you can do to not scream, trying to keep yourself calm so that you could escape.

It’s ok, breathe in...and concentrate.

The heat within you started to crackle, your palms beginning to burn up gradually.

Your eyes blinked as you decided to try and take a good look at the person holding you. Their head was covered with a black mask, their finger held over their mouth as they ran their eyes over your distressed expression.

Inhale. Exhale.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, staying still and pretending to give up the struggle. “Unhand me now, or you’ll regret it, trust me-“

“Shh! Y/n, please…” He shushed you, his voice shaky.

You stopped in your tracks.

Huh?

That voice…

“I’ll explain... but first we need to get out of here, fuck-” He looked from side to side quickly, scanning his surroundings.

Shit. Why does that voice sound so familiar?

“Who- who are you?!” You managed to get out, the heat fading away as deep, panicked confusion took over you instead.

There was a small sigh as your assailant stood up a little straighter, groaning. And then, his fingers deftly pulled the mask off, clutching it in his hands tightly.

Golden locks spilled out, a handsome visage coming into view. Plump lips and beautiful eyes, looking oh so familiar.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck was going on?

It’s him.

But it can’t be.

How? It’s not possible-

You’re definitely losing your mind.

The man’s breathing got quicker as he watched your expression morph from fear into one of pure, electric shock.

“I know you’re shocked, Y/n, but please listen to-“

Your chest started heaving, quickly rising and falling as your heart pounded against your rib cage.

This...could not be happening. What was this? Was this a nightmare? Yet another sick, twisted dream? He couldn’t be standing right in front of you...it was impossible. No. No no no no no no no.

It was all too overwhelming, and your brain and body seemed to agree on that. Your mind swam, your thoughts all over the place as you felt yourself sway on your feet.

“This- I-“ You stumbled over your words, tears slipping past quickly as you tried to form words to express what you felt.

Pain. Searing pain, taking over, spreading from head to toe.

Your breathing slowed as the world suddenly went black, Hyunjin’s shouts in the background fading away...until there was nothing but silence.

Pure, unadulterated silence.

[new-sandrafilter]

Behold Dune: An Exclusive Look at Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Oscar Isaac, and More  

Timothée Chalamet remembers the darkness. It was the summer of 2019, and the cast and crew of Dune had ventured deep into the sandstone and granite canyons of southern Jordan, leaving in the middle of the night so they could catch the dawn on camera. The light spilling over the chasms gave the landscape an otherworldly feel. It was what they had come for.

“It was really surreal,” says Chalamet. “There are these Goliath landscapes, which you may imagine existing on planets in our universe, but not on Earth.”

They weren’t on Earth anymore, anyway. They were on a deadly, dust-dry battleground planet called Arrakis. In Frank Herbert’s epic 1965 sci-fi novel, Arrakis is the only known location of the galaxy’s most vital resource, the mind-altering, time-and-space-warping “spice.” In the new film adaptation, directed by Arrival and Blade Runner 2049 filmmaker Denis Villeneuve, Chalamet stars as the young royal Paul Atreides, the proverbial stranger in a very strange land, who’s fighting to protect this hostile new home even as it threatens to destroy him. Humans are the aliens on Arrakis. The dominant species on that world are immense, voracious sandworms that burrow through the barren drifts like subterranean dragons.

For the infinite seas of sand that give the story its title, the production moved to remote regions outside Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates, where the temperatures rivaled the fiction in Herbert’s story. “I remember going out of my room at 2 a.m., and it being probably 100 degrees,” says Chalamet. During the shoot, he and the other actors were costumed in what the world of Dune calls “stillsuits”—thick, rubbery armor that preserves the body’s moisture, even gathering tiny bits from the breath exhaled through the nose. In the story, the suits are life-giving. In real life, they were agony. “The shooting temperature was sometimes 120 degrees,” says Chalamet. “They put a cap on it out there, if it gets too hot. I forget what the exact number is, but you can’t keep working.” The circumstances fed the story they were there to tell: “In a really grounded way, it was helpful to be in the stillsuits and to be at that level of exhaustion.”

It wouldn’t be Dune if it were easy. Herbert’s novel became a sci-fi touchstone in the 1960s, heralded for its world-building and ecological subtext, as well as its intricate (some say impenetrable) plot focusing on two families struggling for supremacy over Arrakis. The book created ripples that many see in everything from Star Wars to Alien to Game of Thrones. Still, for decades, the novel itself has defied adaptation. In the ’70s, the wild man experimental filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky mounted a quest to film it, but Hollywood considered the project too risky. David Lynch brought Dune to the big screen in a 1984 feature, but it was derided as an incomprehensible mess and a blight on his filmography. In 2000, a Dune miniseries on what’s now the SyFy channel became a hit for the cable network, but it is now only dimly remembered.

Villeneuve intends to create a Dune that has so far only existed in the imagination of readers. The key, he says, was to break the sprawling narrative in half. When Dune hits theaters on December 18, it will only be half the novel, with Warner Bros. agreeing to tell the story in two films, similar to the studio’s approach with Stephen King’s It and It Chapter Two. “I would not agree to make this adaptation of the book with one single movie,” says Villeneuve. “The world is too complex. It’s a world that takes its power in details.”

For Villeneuve, this 55-year-old story about a planet being mined to death was not merely a space adventure, but a prophecy. “No matter what you believe, Earth is changing, and we will have to adapt,” he says. “That’s why I think that Dune, this book, was written in the 20th century. It was a distant portrait of the reality of the oil and the capitalism and the exploitation—the overexploitation—of Earth. Today, things are just worse. It’s a coming-of-age story, but also a call for action for the youth.”

Chalamet’s character, Paul, thinks he’s just a boy struggling to find a place in the world, but he actually possesses the ability to change it. He has a supernatural gift to harness and unleash energy, lead others, and meld with the heart of his new home world. Think Greta Thunberg, only she’s a Jedi with a degree from Hogwarts. Paul comes from a powerful galactic family with a name that sounds like a constellation—the House Atreides. His father and mother, Duke Leto (played by Oscar Isaac) and Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), take their son from their lush, Scandinavian-like home world to preside over spice extraction on Arrakis. What follows is a clash with the criminal, politically connected House Harkonnen, led by the monstrous Baron Vladimir (Stellan Skarsgård), a mammoth with merciless appetites. The baron, created with full-body prosthetics, is like a rhino in human form. This version of the character is less of a madman and more of a predator. “As much as I deeply love the book, I felt that the baron was flirting very often with caricature,” says Villeneuve. “And I tried to bring him a bit more dimension. That’s why I brought in Stellan. Stellan has something in the eyes. You feel that there’s someone thinking, thinking, thinking—that has tension and is calculating inside, deep in the eyes. I can testify, it can be quite frightening.”

The director has also expanded the role of Paul’s mother, Lady Jessica. She’s a member of the Bene Gesserit, a sect of women who can read minds, control people with their voice (again, a precursor to the Jedi mind trick), and manipulate the balance of power in the universe. In the script, which Villeneuve wrote with Eric Roth and Jon Spaihts, she is even more fearsome than before. The studio’s plot synopsis describes her as a “warrior priestess.” As Villeneuve jokes, “It’s better than ‘space nun.’ ”

Lady Jessica’s duty is to deliver a savior to the universe—and now she has a greater role in defending and training Paul too. “She’s a mother, she’s a concubine, she’s a soldier,” says Ferguson. “Denis was very respectful of Frank’s work in the book, [but] the quality of the arcs for much of the women have been brought up to a new level. There were some shifts he did, and they are beautifully portrayed now.”

In an intriguing change to the source material, Villeneuve has also updated Dr. Liet Kynes, the leading ecologist on Arrakis and an independent power broker amid the various warring factions. Although always depicted as a white man, the character is now played by Sharon Duncan-Brewster (Rogue One), a black woman. “What Denis had stated to me was there was a lack of female characters in his cast, and he had always been very feminist, pro-women, and wanted to write the role for a woman,” Duncan-Brewster says. “This human being manages to basically keep the peace amongst many people. Women are very good at that, so why can’t Kynes be a woman? Why shouldn’t Kynes be a woman?”

 As fans will know, there’s a vast menagerie of other characters populating Dune. There are humans called “mentats,” augmented with computerlike minds. Paul is mentored by two of them. There are also the bravado warriors Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck, played by Jason Momoa and Josh Brolin. Dave Bautista plays a sinister Harkonnen enforcer Glossu Rabban, and Charlotte Rampling has a key role as the Bene Gesserit reverend mother. The list goes on. In the seemingly unlivable wilds of Arrakis, Javier Bardem leads the Fremen tribe as Stilgar, and Zendaya costars as a mystery woman named Chani, who haunts Paul in his dreams as a vision with glowing blue eyes.

The breadth of Dune is what has made it so confounding for others to adapt. “It’s a book that tackles politics, religion, ecology, spirituality—and with a lot of characters,” says Villeneuve. “I think that’s why it’s so difficult. Honestly, it’s by far the most difficult thing I’ve done in my life.” After finishing this first movie, he’ll just have to do it all over again.

[musedblues]

From The Shadows

summary: Gwilym is full of secrets. People in town seem to know them all. You've got to decided who, and what to believe.

a/n: Once upon a time, I fell asleep in the middle of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, promptly dreamed this whole thing up, and then told @brianmays-hair​ I'd write it for her birthday. Better late than never, aye? So here... whatever this is, is! Suspend your disbelief and try to enjoy this actual 1950's fever dream? (I truly cannot believe I've done this)

w/c: 15k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He didn't want for it to happen... the accident. Of course he didn't. But he did think moving here would be safe. Gwilym soon realized no place was safe. So he settled, and he lived with a thousand regrets, and he stopped dreaming anything would ever change.

///

You couldn't think up one good reason to say no.

Your aunt was an elusive Hollywood costume designer, who rarely showed up for the holidays. But when she passed on, she left her home to you. With your sister long married and moved away, and you parents happily retired, there was nothing stopping you from packing up and heading out.

Sure you liked the place you'd been living in, and your mediocre life there. But there was something about the timing. When had life ever awarded anyone such a bold-faced fresh start without something taxing having been the catalyst? So with the stars seeming to have perfectly aligned, you moved to Bodega Bay.

It was her summer home. A place you'd never been too, but the one your aunt ended up secluding herself to for the last decade or so. If she liked it well enough to die there, it must have been a lovely place. Maybe it was foolish of you to take what you could carry and crash in a place you knew nothing about. But there was some undeniable force pushing you along, a little voice in your head urging you not to squander this divine change of pace. Besides, you could use a little more sunshine.

The ride there was long and silent, as the cab driver seemed keener on training his ear to the ball game on the radio. You kept an eye out the window and watched the ocean appear between neighbourhoods and pockets of green. The water seemed to welcome you, showing more of itself the closer you got to where you were going. But the waves became less fierce and foamy as you turned into the town tucked between the rolling raised land. There was a calm sapphire bay surrounding the place that sparkled in the midday sun, and you realized at first glance what must have drawn people to settle here. It was picture-perfect, like nothing could go wrong. Or if it had, the beauty of it all might've shone bright enough to drown everyone's sorrows.

"This is all the further I can take you." The driver parked near a boardwalk that split into rows of docks. You thanked him, collected your things, and turned to find someone you might be able to ask for a bit of direction.

///

Every day was the same for Gwilym. He woke up, rowed across the bay, and worked until he got to row back home and enjoy the solitude. When he wasn't tending to the garden he bothered keeping, he was working at the shop on the dock; unloading crates from ships, and setting them in trucks that rode to different businesses around town. Then he'd carry the boxes meant for the dock shop into the back room and sort through what he could before it was time to go home, where the quiet was a comfort.

He spoke of business with the shopkeep, and hardly much more with anyone else. That was the way it had to be. As the Englishman gave a nod to the man who gave him work, Gwilym wondered if he'd ever be able to repay the man. He was one of the few people here who treated Gwilym with any kind of benevolence. It was hatred or less, otherwise. And some days his invisibility weighed more sorrowfully on Gwilym's heart than anything.

Tonight, as he shuffled down the rickety dock and stepped onto his boat that stirred with the water, Gwilym was unusually interrupted.

"Hiya." A voice came, sweet and unsure. It was the hesitation in her tone that made him look her way. The wonder in her voice wasn't as malice as he'd come to recognize. But he looked up and saw her and wished he never did. Her features were perfectly aligned and her pale dress fit her form with grace. He looked at her and held his breath for a new reason among the others, and hoped her question was simple; because the longer he looked, the more he wanted to help her, and he knew that wasn't possible.

"I've just arrived and I'm trying to find my way around here." She rested two suitcases down, and shuffled closer to where Gwyilm paused in his leaning to untether his ride from its mooring.

"Do you know this address?" The woman extended a slip of paper with numbers and a street name scrawled in messy cursive. He looked upon it and knew. Of course, he knew the address. There weren't very many paths to weave between in Bodega Bay.

With a quick glance around, Gwilym saw the calm waters surrounding the island beyond the docks. He noticed the stillness of the town too, and wondered what to do.

"Yes, you're looking for a house on the island," Gwilym spoke, reluctantly turning his head toward the middle of these waters. The woman's brows curved up and her glance turned, too.

"There are usually men with boats who offer rides for a dollar or more. It appears none of them are around just yet." Gwilym sighed. He used to worry about letting people down. But over the year, he worried less about what people thought of him and more over if they'd dare to speak out about it. But now, with this stranger, Gwilym felt an urgent pang to extend an offer her way, even though he knew better than to do so.

"I can give you a ride there now, if your going is dire. The others will likely be round in a couple of hours, otherwise." He hesitated in voicing his offer, the only warning he could give without all but scaring her away.

"Oh, could you?" She grinned brightly. "I've only got those two bags and I'd be awfully grateful for a lift."

If this was a cruel trick, Gwilym decided he'd willingly pay the price, for her. She seemed genuine and clueless in his presence. But he recognized she was smart enough, and if she stayed here long, this ride would come to haunt her. That thought nearly made him take it all back and deny her help. Save her trouble in the long run. But she was already shuffling to collect her things with a smile.

///

The idyllic little town with pastel structures settled on the water's edge could only be made more enchanting by the kinds of people who occupied here.

When you breezed toward the man at the end of the wooden walkway, you hadn't known exactly what to expect. But a tall, handsome Englishmen wasn't it. He seemed stoic. Maybe exhausted from a long day. His eyes were a shade of blue you'd never seen the likes of, not even in the crystal waters that lapped along the boardwalk.

He took the two cases you'd brought along and helped you aboard his modest boat with a crisp sail, with one strong hand. If this was the start of your staying here, you wondered what was around the corner. Was it much too soon to hope his face would be some kind of constant?

The island wasn't far. You could see homes and speckles of gardens from the place you'd sailed off from. But the ride was only as fast as the waters and wind allowed. Time enough for a conversation to sprout past the heavy silence.

"So I take it you aren't one who offers rides, often?" You wondered, from the spot you'd settled, soaking up the scenery.

"No. There are a few others, who cater to folks who've lived here for years. There is no one waiting around to ferry newcomers, because there never really are any."

"Then I caught you right on time." You smiled. He seemed to try, but struggled to return the expression.

"You'll want to keep an eye out for Dean," The man said, steering the boat against a breeze. "He's give's plenty of lifts for a decent price."

"But what's your name?" You wondered, in the middle of the bay now, with the most handsome man you'd ever laid your eyes upon.

"I'm Gwilym." He pursed his smile and turned his eyes toward the water and you started to wonder if he'd had more than just a bad day. The rest of the ride was quiet. And even when you made it to land, the man who'd been kind enough to give you a lift kept his mouth shut. He handed you your bags with a cagy grin and pointed you in the right direction as you thanked him one last time. He stayed on his boat, tying ropes to posts as you headed on your way. And though you wanted to look back on your trek down a dirt path peppered with homes, you didn't.

///

It was just like her papers said it would be. Fully furnished, with a nice view. Out of the east, you could see the bay past patches of trees, and it seemed to stretch out until it met the sky.

Sun fluttered through old dusty curtains, and there were even still pill bottles and bandaids in the medicine cabinet. You breezed from the garish pink bathroom, through the steel green master suite to find the halls were empty of picture frames.

In the kitchen, you searched through the ivory white cabinets and found most of the cans of food were outdated, and the water had yet to be turned back on. So with your bags left sitting near the white brick fireplace, you took the key you'd found below the welcome mat, and floated down the path toward the dock nearest your side of the island.

There was someone waiting there, a boy with his feet kicked back in a big canoe. You had that thought again, about how perfect things seemed here, but this time it was paired with the smallest twinge of doubt.

"Hi, uh, would you happen to be someone I could ask a ride from?"  You stepped nearer toward the small wooden dock and watched a young man with a bright smile and dark hair sit up from his boat.

"Sure enough." He grinned up to you, as you paused, unsure of the etiquette of this way of things. "I'm Dean." The boy's smile broadened as he lifted a hand to his brow, to shield the sun as he looked your way. "You must be who has moved into that old Davis place."

"Ah yes, she was my aunt." You noted, understanding how small this broken up town must have been, for a stranger to know your business. Dean nodded and gestured you in for a lift.

"Well," said the man you assumed might have been only a few years older than you, pushing an oar against sinking land. "Welcome to Old Money!"

"That's a funny way of pronouncing Bodega Bay." You grinned, settling on the wooden bench across from him.

"This place used to be full of faces as young as ours. But most moved around the bend to Hollywood. So now it's mostly just old rich bastards, and a few of their spoiled rich kids, here." Dean told.

"And which of the two are you?" You rose a brow to the guy as he rowed along.

"The latter, I'm afraid."

You chuckled at his honest nod and turned to admire what you could see of the town as you floated closer toward it. "What a strange place, indeed."

"Is that all you make of Bodega Bay so far?" Dean wondered, not offended in his asking, but truly curious it seemed.

"Well, so far I've only just arrived and found my way to the island. I would have thought the town abandoned if I hadn't gotten lucky to catch a gent just leaving the harbour." You laughed a little as Dean listened. He seemed to raise a dark brow for you to go on.

"How silly of me to have let his name slip my mind already," You gestured as you thought aloud. "Let's see, he was quite tall, oh and English and-"

"Gwilym? You met Mr. Lee!" Dean beamed, rowing all the while.

"Yes, Gwilym was his name."

"You, my dear," Dean said, looking to you like you were in on some joke. "are very lucky."

Today wasn't what you'd expected in this quaint little village you were meant to call home, now. Home... such a silly word for here. You didn't quite feel at home in the misty air. But the folks you'd met so far made you smile to think of. The bay wavered as you rode along. It wasn't the steady grounding feeling of welcome you'd anticipated to sink into amidst the old cozy community. But you hoped that once this all became familiar, you'd be glad for it.

///

He was cursed, sure, but this was a new torture. When he saw her again... he was glad for it.

She was skipping along with Dean through the trails of the island when they saw him, too. It was her, who rose a hand to catch Gwilym's attention, though she already had it. She was beautiful. Like how the moon was beautiful, and everyone knew it, but still looked and marvelled at the sight of its shine like it was unbelievable.

She stopped and asked how he was doing and he couldn't think up an answer to a question he'd rarely been asked, since moving here.

"Dean was just showing me around the island," She gestured to the bright-eyed dark-haired man a few years younger than Gwilym. His smile was pleasant as ever it had been. Dean might have been the closest thing to a friend Gwilym had known, here, or ever. "And he pointed out your house. Mr. Lee, it's beautiful."

The sincerity in her tone made him chuckle. He couldn't help it.

"It's a few blue shutters between a few tall trees." Gwilym shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, casting a gaze to the boat he was planning on taking out on the water, as far as it would go before the sun set and his work week started again.

"But those flowers growing up from your back garden that I could see from these trails..." She pointed his way with a grin. Gwilym was in awe by the turn of her painted lips and the way he knew she was trying to get him to carry on some kind of banter.

But then a pair of young friends rode around the corner on bicycles. They halted their wheels from turning by digging their heels into the dirt. They saw him, and maneuvered their bikes to turn the other way. Gwilym was snapped back to reality, one he was desperate to spare this new stunning stranger from. So Gwilym cleared his throat and nodded to Dean, who nodded back with reluctant understanding.

Dean knew a lot, but neither of them had spoken a word about what happened since the start of the year. They'd barely spoken at all, outside of the shop. Dean respected Gwilym's distance.

Gwilym had to go about his evening like always. He couldn't be to her what he'd just briefly been. He couldn't lie. When he managed to escape, and wave the pair off, a weight lifted from his chest as they turned off laughing together. But all at once, as they disappeared down the trail, Gwilym's heart sank. He wanted to laugh with her. He thought moments ago that he might've been able to share trivial talk until nightfall. But he couldn't. Of course he couldn't.

He sailed alone and reminded himself it had to be that way.

///

He used to go to parties. And people would greet him with glee when he arrived. He used to sit and mingle, and dance with strangers and familiar faces. But they all turned on him, and he knew he'd never be able to gain the likes of such company again.

He knew he'd always be seen as some vile, heartless monster. He knew his hurt and his fear was his alone and that peoples suspicions were stronger than their hearts, at first glance and forever then after.

So he kept his head down in line at the bank, wishing he'd shown up when less of the townspeople had. He knew catching their sneers (if the dared to look toward him) would only add to his never-ending ache.

So Gwilym offered a polite grin to the lady behind the counter even though he knew she wouldn't return it. He knew it didn't make him look better either, or change anyone's made up minds. But he thought it must have been better than scowling back.

He prepared to bolt after his transaction was through. And he did. But time seemed to freeze for just a moment when he looked up and saw her. The woman for whom he'd given a ride. Who'd stopped to greet him kindly just a day ago.

She was there before him, again. With perfectly styled hair and an openness on her face when she noticed him. He knew it was better to smile, but he couldn't help but hurry away faster. He had to outrun the way his heart felt light at the simple sight of one ignorant stranger. Gwilym knew she'd find out soon enough, and eventually, she wouldn't look at him like that, like she was glad to see him. He hurried away and wished he didn't have too.

///

You had come to depend on Dean for many a ride. When he told you lot's of people had their own boats, or took the big one into town at six a.m. you almost felt bad for asking him. But he followed up his saying so by telling you he was glad for the extra company. You'd toss him a couple of coins for his trouble and head into town to find something to occupy your time.

That's when you met Maggie. The girl Dean so often rambled about on rides to and fro. She was waiting on the boardwalk one morning with a big shiny hardback book for your dark haired friend in her grasp. They weren't official, not yet. He told you he was still gaining the gull to take her out. But it was clear she was mad about the guy. Who wouldn't be? With his contagious grin and the gentle way about him.

Maggie parted ways with Dean on his way to his job at the dock shop, and promptly hooked you up with a gig at the library. She worked there, alongside another much older woman who was glad to hire you on. Miss Porter gave you books to label, and shelves to clean, and left you to man the desk while she planned children programs and filed fees away. Maggie usually hosted the events Miss Porter planned, corralling kids to think up their own fairytales, or reading to a few when school let out.

It was an easy, quiet, delightful job. When Miss Porter handed over your very first paycheck, you practically skipped to the bank on your lunch break, but came back with a puzzled expression stuck on your face.

"Did you go? Did you talk to the teller I recommended?" Miss Porter wondered, sitting in the seat next to where you'd settled in to finish out your workday.

"Yes!" You promised with a nod. You told her how smoothly everything went, and how you'd even recognized a few people in line ahead of you. The man from the market and some ladies who'd checked out books from you on your first day. And then you mentioned Gwilym. You mentioned how you'd met him first thing, before anyone. Then, bashfully, how charmed you were by the guy. How you'd hoped to see more of him.

"But... he was just so strange, today. Like he couldn't wait to get out of there. Like he didn't know me." You boggled, tapping labels to new books. You glance up to notice Miss Porter's face, the hesitation on her lips, her lingering worried eyes.

"What?" You wondered flatly.

"Mr Lee. He's... well there are rumours about him. And where there's smoke there's fire." The old woman let out a humorous huff of a laugh. "Just- keep your head about yourself, girl."

"Yeah, okay." You gave Miss Porter a sidelong glance and floated along with her change in conversation. She chattered about her own lunch break and the friends she met up with during the hour. You listened, half-heartedly considering her gossip and watching the clock tick until someone eventually slid a book across the desk to you.

"Fancy seeing you here again." A voice rang past a smile, belonging to a boy with flaxen hair who'd come to the library almost every other day you worked, this month.

"Jake," You acknowledged with a tired grin. You never had much interest in his flirting, but his acquaintance had proven to be harmless and sometimes the most entertaining part of your afternoon. The buzz about the library was the only thing you had to look forward to, and more often than naught; the halls were empty and you'd unsort books just to busy yourself with putting them in order again. So, you at least tried to enjoy conversation with the preppy guy.

"Say, didn't you mention last week something about moving here for a bit of adventure?" He asked as you glimpsed to the cover of the text he was checking out. A book on ethics that looked unopened.

"Perhaps I might've." You mumbled, going about scribbling the date down.

"Then why do I only see you here and not anyplace else people our age hang around in, hmm?" The blonde boy wondered, looking to you. You gave him a sorry shrug and hoped he'd enjoy the book, reminding it was due back in two weeks. Jake's smile grew before he parted, as you turned to find Miss Porter watching you with a matching grin. Then she started her gossiping, about how Jake came from a good family with money and charm; The Hollywood type, she said.

She had a lot of opinions about everyone in town, it seemed. You let her ramble, but knew better than to listen too closely.

///

There was your life at the library, and then hardly much else. You came to recognize faces that you'd never see outside of the place you worked. Dean was the only friend you had beyond the confines of the desk. Even Maggie seemed lost to the halls of books. Neither of you had seen much of her, and every time you asked Dean, he seemed just as clueless as you were of her whereabouts after work hours.

So you stuck close to the boy and went to record shops and pubs when you felt like it. Between nights full of chatter about Bodega Bay's fast approaching annual fall festival, and antidotes about your lives before now, you always tried to circle back around to the same subject.

It seemed like Dean might've known more about Mr. Lee than he let on. You ask how he'd been, knowing the men worked closely together. Dean would only say they were both too busy to trade any small talk during the day. You'd ask how someone from so far came to know the quaint little town, but Dean would turn the question back around to you, and point out how you'd come to stay. All of your questions of Mr. Lee went marginally unanswered. Maybe Dean knew what you were really trying to ask. Maybe you were too afraid to wonder outright.

You thought much of him, Mr Lee. So the next time you caught a glimpse of his broad figure on the harbour, you asked Dean to wait up, as you rushed to say hello.

///

"Hey, you!"

Oh, it couldn't be? Gwilym could have smiled despite himself. There she was, taking steps closer over scattered ropes, headed right his way. Gwilym set down the crate he was carrying atop another and turned to face her as she'd already caught his attention.

"Don't you ever stop working?" She asked with a soft smile, coming to a slow halt before him. "You say you live on the island but I swear if I squint from there I can see you over here sorting boxes at all hours."

"It's better to be busy." Gwilym shrugged, letting his lips upturn for a moment.

"I suppose. But I hear there's a festival coming. Surely you'll have time free to waste all your well-earned dollars trying to win a fish in a bag?"

He had to chuckle. She spoke to him like they'd been friends for so long that there were no more secrets to trade, only small talk.

"Uh, no, I think not," Gwilym admitted, keeping his smile and trying not to stare at her own. "I'd much prefer to hide away during the festival." He hoped he seemed more antisocial on his own accord. Like he hadn't been scared into staying in for so long that he prefered it, in the end. Like it was his choice all along.

"Hm, why? Are the games not nearly as exciting as I've imagined them to be?"

"Well, yes that is one reason." He shrugged. "There are usually only a few tents and things. Most people use the festival as an excuse to pack the bay with their boats and scare the fish away for months."

"And you don't prefer to sail your boat somewhere in the middle of it all?"

He shook his head and reached for the crates once more, struck with a sudden thrum of worry, a realization that he shouldn't be carrying on just so.

Perhaps he sensed it coming, the inevitable. Before Gwilym could give a farewell to the woman he'd been foolishly thinking of, he heard footsteps pounding down the harbour toward where they stood.

At the sight of someone storming right her way, Gwilym turned in a hurry. To save her the embarrassment, or torment, or whatever she might receive for sharing a word with him. And as he left- though he couldn't understand why, and he feared the possibility, he hoped to see her again.

///

You were just about to demand Mr. Lee cease being so bloody mysterious and come to dinner with you and Dean.

But his bright eyes tore from yours and floated over your shoulder, and his smile faded. Gwilym cleared his throat and ducked his head through the back door of the shop, leaving you without another word, like you'd hadn't just stood and spoken at all, and were completely unworthy of a goodbye. As you tried not to let his odd behaviour sting, you turned to see what the matter was.

You saw Maggie. For the first time out from behind a book in a week or more. Her lily-white fists curled at her sides, and a look meant to kill shot toward you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She spat, stalling in front of you, red with anger. You gawked at Maggie, and dared to glimpse around, wondering if there had to be something you were missing.

"Why were you talking to him?" Maggie seethed, snapping your attention back to her. Why was the question, wasn't it? Why had everyone you'd met so strangely behaved at the mention of a name belonging to a man who was hardly ever around?

"Why not, Maggie?" You pressed, feeling vexation start to burn below your surface. You'd known this girl long enough to feel fond of her, but not long enough to give way to her sudden and jarring concern without your own shining through.

"Let me remind you," Maggie hissed, "Because there's no way you're stupid enough to not know yet,"

"Like hell you will, Maggie." Dean appeared in a huff, "Do you really believe all the shit?" In two long strides, Dean was breaking up your standoff with his girl, not on her side, though, it seemed.

Maggie gawked at him, mouth slack between two rosy cheeks coloured by the chill and her anger.

"You don't?" She seemed to warn. And as Dean started shaking his head, she was set off once more. "Why do you think I haven't been around, huh? When I realized you worked alongside the creep I had to wait for you to come around. I could not be seen so near-"

"I will not stand here and let you go on spreading those vile rumours!" Dean stood his ground, at your confounded side.

"Well, I won't stand here and listen to you defend a cold-blooded criminal!" Maggie yanked her hands from her sides to throw them in the air as she hollered. Then she spun on her heels and muttered curses on her stomp back down the boardwalk.

"Dean..." You asked in a sacred hush, watching her storm off. "Why would she say something like that?"

You turned to the only real friend you'd made here. You knew his middle name, and what he really thought of the best pub in town. You knew he wouldn't lie. But you were afraid of what he'd say now.

Dean glanced to his watch with a heavy sigh, then looked back up to you.

"Got time for a really long story?"

///

You settled into Dean's cluttered kitchen and accepted his offer of a dark toxic drink before either of you spoke. And right when you were about to break the silence with one of the dozens of questions swirling through your mind, Dean looked to you.

"My parents were born and raised here, and so was I. But they moved to Hollywood when I went off to college." Dean explained that his mother passed on from illness and his father followed soon after, old age getting the better of the man.

"They were the owners of a building that was left to me. Downstairs was their place, upstairs was an apartment they rented out. And that's how I met Gwilym."

You took a sip of your drink, and nodded for him to go on.

Dean explained that with his parents gone, Gwilym was his only hope of understanding the lease the men were bonded by. Soon their talks grew common. Dean spent many a night sharing drinks with Mr. Lee, like the one he'd just poured for you.

"To have a friend one staircase away was such fun. We were both in desperate need of company. With my parents gone, and his wife never home."

Before you could ask, Dean told. He said Gwilym's wife had dreams of becoming an actor; a dream she'd once shared with her husband. But Gwilym was left to pick up odd jobs while Mrs. Lee went out to every audition. She rarely landed a role, but showed up to so many casting calls and parties that celebrities came to adore her. Mrs. Lee was always out drinking till dawn with the Hollywood elite. "I only ever met her once." Dean shrugged away a halfhearted smile.

He told you Gwilym was left to pay the bills and lend her cash to go back out again, when she came home tipsy in the mid afternoon. Dean said they bickered all the time. When Gwilym asked where she'd been, she would only shout back, call him horrible names Dean could hear from the apartment downstairs. He said even in his every attempt to ignore her picking fights, it was impossible.

"So the last night she came home, I thought it was like any other," Dean recalled, shifting in his ugly vinyl chair.

Dean said Mrs. Lee's sister had come to visit, and both ladies had stayed out all weekend without so much as letting Gwilym know. When they eventually stumbled up the stairs days later at dawn, their drunken laughter woke Dean, and Gwilym's loud worry over where they'd been kept the landlord awake.

Dean said he tried to ignore it. But after an unusual bout of quiet, the ruckus from the upstairs tenant's came back in a new and frightening way. Dean said he'd sprung out of bed purely by instinct, and opened his door to rush to the second level. No sooner than the man had met the bottom of the staircase did the Lee's door fly open. Gwilym tossed his sister in law out, as he stumbled toward the stairs himself. And if Dean hadn't been there to stop him, Mr. Lee would have rushed back into the cloud of smoke billowing from his apartment.

"The whole place burned down." Dean said, matter of factly. A pit opened in your stomach as you tried to wrap your head around the story that had been unfolded. "Mrs. Lee never made it out. Everyone blamed Gwilym. Still do."

"They say he killed her?" You croaked, mostly alarmed by Deans apathetic gaze.

"He was proven innocent." Dean lifted a brow, and his glass. But before he could take a drink, he seemed to realize something. Dean abandoned his alcohol and got up from the table without a word. You watched him disappear around the hall, while you sat in stunned silence. Your mind was too overwhelmed with thought to process much, before Dean was back again, with a crumpled old newspaper in hand.

"When I moved back here, I stuffed papers in the boxes of glasses and plates." Dean chuckled, smoothing out the page on his table. "Didn't even realize I'd used this one till I unpacked. Figured I'd keep it, in case of moment's like now, I guess."

Past the wrinkles, you looked and saw a headline. Gwilym's name printed in black, next to the word innocent, followed by a question mark. You leaned in close to read the article that followed.

It stated that the fire that his wife died in was a proven accident. Mrs. Lee's sister and husband had told the authorities that arrived on the scene the same frantic story. The quote that followed her sister's statement, though, began to help you realize why everyone treated Mr. Lee with such contempt.

Gwilym may not have started the fire, but he drove my sister mad enough to. It was his careless treatment of her that drove my sister away. He killed her in the end, and we won't let him forget it.

"She started the fire?" Your heart dropped away. How could such hate exist? How were their quotes from famous actors mourning the loss of this woman, and cursing her husband's name? Why did the people in Bodega Bay care?

When you asked, Dean said it was because everyone here had some kind of connection to Hollywood, or wanted too. They were always on the side of the stars, always influenced by tabloids and concerned with the gossip that kept them in celebrity loops.

He said he should have known better, when he moved back here and extended an offer for Gwilym to come along, neither of them having a better place to go. Dean said he should have known the rumours would spread, and how the people in Bodega Bay would react to Gwilym's settling here. Then he shook his head, and looked to you.

"So now you know." Dean said, standing to reach for the bottle he'd poured from earlier in the evening. Your glass had barely been sipped from, but you held it up to be filled further still. Now you knew, indeed. But you were clueless as to what to do about it.

///

The next morning, you'd barely settled behind the desk at the library before Maggie stormed in. She marched up to the counter you and Miss Porter sat quietly behind, and slammed an envelope on the counter.

"I quit." She seethed, breathing hard as she pierced her eyes right into yours. Miss Porter gapped at the girl, and then to you, and when she turned to look to Maggie and ask her to change her mind, the girl was stomping out of the door.

You told your boss you had no idea what the girl's problem was, but realized she'd probably find out eventually, with the way miss Miss Porter sniffed out every detail of peoples lives in this town. So you kept to yourself while you still could, and didn't see anyone you recognized all day.

But you heard everyone talk. You'd heard the talk before. You'd heard his name whispered from housewives and mailmen. But now you understood why, and you discerned what they seemed to say. It made you sick, with worries of all kinds.

So, you agreed to stay late and lock up- only so you might be able to sneak into the attic of the library. There you found collections of misprints, yearbooks and old newspapers. It took until the sunlight started to fade from the dormer window before you found what you were looking for. A paper from the day after the incident, and a few more. All of which spelled Dean's name wrong, and spewed more vile quotes.

All of them seemed to tell the truth, seemed to acknowledge Gwilym's innocents, yet they all blamed him still. For caring too little. For being such a terrible husband. For whatever made them feel better about his wife's tragic loss. You'd read more than enough to be sure of the truth, and maddened by the way it had been turned and used against a man who had done little wrong.

But now, as you kept your eyes wide to see him again, he seemed to have vanished from the town completely

"Why don't they talk about you?" You asked Dean, stepping into his boat one afternoon, after being disappointed to find Gwilym's boat missing from the harbour.

"They misprinted my name in one paper and rolled with it in all the others." He laughed bitterly, rowing home. You recalled that to be the case. You knew Dean wouldn't lie.

"Why don't you talk to him?" You asked more, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. A tiny internal voice drove you through this discovery, the same urgent pang that pushed you to pack up and move here.

"I used to. He stopped letting me over. Stopped answering calls." Dean shrugged. You hung your head, and apologized for all the questions. Dean insisted he was glad someone finally cared to ask.

You had all kinds of answers, now. But worried and wondered about Gwilym all week. And then the festival came.

///

It was just like he said it would be. As you stepped into Dean's canoe to head to work, you saw a dozen boats lined up at the berth of the town. And by the time your lunch break came, you spotted two dozen more boats crowding the bay, some sailing, some waiting their turn. By the time you were free to go and see what the fuss was about, Dean waved from the window of the shop as you breezed by. You walked past a tent selling sweets, and another selling drinks, and saw little else besides a mess of people.

"Well look who it is." An unexpectedly familiar voice floated over your shoulder. Jake stood a few paces away, rocking on his feet, looking taller than he ever seemed from behind the desk of your library.

You gave him a pleasant hello, and he said something about how nice it was to finally see you out and about.

"Have you found much adventure, yet?" He wondered. And you weren't sure if he was asking about your time in Bodega Bay, or about the festival that started sometime while you were still clocked in. Either way, when you hesitated, the nice blonde boy extended his hand and insisted you join him.

And you had a fleeting thought, that Jake was only trying to do for you what you'd been trying to do for Gwilym. Reaching out. Giving you a chance. So with a tired grin, you took it.

You followed the blonde boy through the cutting breeze, down a dock and up the steps of a big boat adorned in strings of lights. It was crammed with people in fancy clothes, drinking from dark bottles and twisting to some rock and roll tune.

Jake kept his distance and poured you a couple of drinks. He danced you around a couple of corners, introducing you to people along the way. You shot him a grin each time he gave out your name and drank a little more. The air was cold, but you were warm, crammed between strangers and their friends. The music coming from the boat was loud, but as you shuffled toward the deck, you could hear music in the distance, too, from other boats. Other friends laughter echoing from beyond the bay. And finally, the beauty of the townspeople shone just as brightly as the town itself.

You laughed as Jake spun you lazily around to the beat of a new song. He followed as you kept slipping closer toward the edge of the crowd. He warned you to get down from the railing you leaned too far over when you'd spun far out of the party as possible. You turned and pointed to a couple dancing on the top of the rails, without a care. And because he couldn't argue, and you were a little tipsy, you stood there, too, and let him hold your hand as you balanced along the beams.

You trusted Jake. His intentions were good and his grip was firm. It tightened as you started to lose your step.

///

Gwilym was on his way to take a break from sorting through inventory in the back room. About this time, he liked to sit and watch the birds and sun dip below the sea. He couldn't see that from home. So sometimes he'd stay later, just to watch the sun setting. Sometimes it was the best part of his whole day. So as the festival raged on, he tried to stay out of sight.

But he didn't even get to sit before he noticed. Just around the corner, there was a boat laced with party lights. A bevy of drunken partiers danced across the deck. A man with pale hair and a dopey smile holding the hand of the woman Gwilym hadn't stopped thinking of. Her, standing on the rails. As soon as Gwilym turned and saw, the boy let go, and she was falling in the water.

The boy with pale hair raced from the deck, but Gwilym was faster. Nearer. Close enough to cross onto the boardwalk and reach into the bay before she had drifted far past the surface. It was instinctive, his mission to save her. He wasn't thinking, he was just reaching in and tugging her up, and only after he pulled her onto the deck at his side, did he realize the speed his heart was thrumming and the fear that spread through him.

She let out startled coughs and looked to him with big watery eyes, and he had to ask if she was okay because he didn't know what else to do. But he was quicker to act than he was to think, still, standing and offering her help to do the same. She stretched up slowly, holding his arm without hesitation. He couldn't be sure if she needed or wanted too, but she didn't let go.

Just as Gwilym decidedly turned toward the shop, Dean appeared. He bound toward the boy with pale hair and grabbed him by the shirt collar with fire in his eyes.

"What the ever loving fuck were you thinking?" Dean shouted, nearly lifting the guy off his feet. The boy who'd let her fall tried to stutter a response, but couldn't So Dean let him go, prepared to do worse. But Gwilym called his name, before thinking about it. Dean looked and saw Gwilym letting the girl he'd come to secretly and desperately adore, lean into his side, despite the way she shivered in drenched clothes. Dean seemed to snap out of it, and only cursed at the blonde boy as he stumbled away, back onto the boat without a word.

"Let's go." Gwilym waved Dean along, as the trio headed toward the shop, while the party raged on.

///

In the matter of a second, the laughter and the lights and the music and the fun was muffled. It kept on as your time stalled and became murky and cold and wet; and then it was louder than ever.

People stood and gasped along the marina as the water splashed around you. Gwilym's grip hurt but it was much more tolerable than the chill of the water and the way your lungs burned with the ache to breathe. How long were you down there?

Mr. Lee threw you toward the docks and stood you up, and looked to you as you looked to him, for the first time in months. For the first time ever, it felt like. But his icy eyes tore away at the sight of the commotion.

Dean was there. He was red with anger, and the boy who'd tried but failed to stop you from falling, seemed like a spec in your friends grasp. Gwilym was the one to save him too, telling Dean to go. You'd barely registered any of this happening until Dean spun back around to face you on his way in the shop, and Jake had left you without a goodbye.

"Are you okay? I mean, are you-" Dean worried, holding open the door to the shop. He flipped the open sign to closed, like it mattered. As you entered the store stocked with fishing gear and boat parts, Gwilym slipped out of your grasp and left you colder than ever.

"I'm fine. I think." You grinned. "Yes. Thank you, Dean." You nodded his way, feeling more embarrassed than anything as you recalled the expressions on onlookers faces a moment ago. You knew everyone saw, but you worried over what they must've thought.

It was Dean's sweeping scowl that started everyone chattering again, as you'd walked off. They looked away from you as your friend led you closer to the dock shop, where Gwilym had now found a towel and something else you didn't know you needed. He watched Dean lead you toward the counter with eye's bluer than the autumn sky.

"A first aid kit? I'm fine, I-" But then you followed Dean's pitiful gaze by raising a hand to your head. You felt nothing but a chill on your fingertips. When you pulled them away, they were sticky and red.

"Oh, I see."

Gwilym ordered Dean to go around back and search for a sweater, or something you might be able to change into. You went where Mr. Lee pointed you toward, settling against the front counter. He handed you a towel, and you draped it over your shoulders, willing yourself to stop shivering.

Then, the stoic Englishman rose a cloth to your head, and watched where he cared for, while you watched him. He was close enough for you to recognise he smelled of something sweeter than pine, and was taller than you realized. His jaw was peppered with stubble and his eyes were a never ending shade of blue you wished you could look right into, but he wouldn't let you. He stayed focused on his work, and informed you only had a small cut.

"I need a lift home." You spoke in a hush, keeping your gaze fixed on his own best you were able.

"Dean will take you." Gwilym mumbled back, so close you could nearly feel the rumble of his voice.

"What if I want you to take me?" You countered with a childish pout, still tipsy and shaken.

"I can't." He spoke firmly, taking the smallest step to your side to close up the first aid kit. You watched, tightening the towel around you and wondering what kind of mess you must'a looked like.

"Why?" You wondered, hopelessly. Your question was loaded, and heavy, and it made Mr. Lee clench his sharp jaw.

"You know why." He responded, grimly. Gwilym took the first aid kit and started away from you as your chest filled up in a way you thought felt just like drowning. Your throat was too tight to call out and stop him from leaving it at that- to stop him from leaving you. So he kept on walking, slipping around the back just as Dean appeared with a set of men's clothes, offering them to you with a small sorry shrug.

You decidedly took the sweater and ducked behind the counter to slip it on, while Dean stood guard. You looked to him once you finished, and were disappointed to find Mr. Lee had not come back. So you took Dean's hand and let him take you home.

He had to row in a strange path, away from other boats, so it took you twice as long to get to the island. And the only conversation you shared on the ride was when Dean kept asking if you were okay and you kept shutting him down; because you couldn't say yes or no without the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

You let Dean walk you to your door, and thanked him for it with the last exhausted breath you could muster. And when you were on your own, you let your heart hurt and you let yourself cry. Then you decided Gwilym must have actually liked being so alone. You decided to leave him be, and stop from searching him out. And while you made yourself promise to keep your distance, you hoped that he'd miss your interactions enough to show up and ask why they'd stopped.

///

You couldn't figure who was more selfish. Him, for retaining such isolation, for having little decency to let you down easy and slipping into the shadows at the sight of you. Or you, for stooping to his level. If he was so keen on keeping a distance, you decided for once, to make it easy.

You decided to try and forget the way he plunged his hand into the freezing waters to yank you to the surface before you knew what hit you. And the warmth that radiated from him, as he let you lean in, despite everything.

You pretended not to care about Gwilym Lee, and went about your weekend as usual. And as you went from work, and ignored Dean's worries over whether you were doing alright, you saw Mr. Lee three times.

Once, on your way from the harbour to your job. Gwilym was out, watching a big boat sail in. And you wouldn't let yourself search for his gaze. You waited until you were a speck in the horizon before you turned to see if he'd noticed or cared. But all you saw was Dean racing to catch up with you, and extending the jacket you'd left in his boat in your rush to storm away.

The next time you saw Gwilym was from the safety of your front porch, as you swept away fallen leaves from the steps. He'd ventured out to his own front lawn that was a mess after the night-long storm, and noticed you already done with your chore. Before you caved and met his eye, you spun inside and shut the door, searching to see if he noticed or cared before you let it shut all the way. Then you scurried off to work with all the reluctance of a school kid.

Your time used to be pleasantly occupied during shifts at the library. But now each day you dreaded stepping foot near there. Miss Porter stopped sharing gossip with you on lunch break. She was probably too busy talking about you. Jake had stopped showing up, and your job of taping labels and arranging shelves seemed like your own personal purgatory.

Dean tried to get you to join him on nights at his favourite grotty pub and afternoon rides around the bay. But you were too much occupied by worry and doubt to entertain your friends free time. So you only let him row you home and kept swearing you'd agree to some fun next time he asked. Dean let you trail away toward home as he accepted a pair of friends into his ride, and you didn't need to look back to know his pitiful gaze was still set on you.

///

She looked back. She kept looking back, and that's when Gwilym realized he'd made a horrible mistake... perhaps the worst he'd ever made.

///

You saw him a third time on your trek home, that afternoon. He seemed to be headed toward the place he'd always hidden his boat away in, but he stopped when he saw you, and his sea blue eyes searched for yours. You tightened your sweater around your frame and prepared to breeze past him, hoping you didn't look like you wanted to burst into tears.

"Y/n, please wait," Gwilym spoke up, his usual low, calm tone now broken and weary.

You didn't wait. You wanted too, but suddenly all the rage and sadness you felt flooded your system and made your feet stomp harder up the steps to your house.

"Please," Gwilym said again, turning to follow close behind.

"Can't we talk?" He seemed to beg. You jostled open your front door with your heart drumming in your ears as you registered the sound of his following along.

"You want to talk?" You laughed without an ounce of humour, spinning to face Gwilym as you backed into your home. He followed timidly like if he made one floorboard creek it would spin loose and he'd slip through the crack.

"Yes." He seemed to decide, stalling just past the still opened door.

"I'm sure you only mean that you want me to talk to you." You pointed, tossing your handbag toward an empty chair. "Because God knows you've never had much to say to me. Not even of the weather let alone where you came from." You were nearly shouting, waving a hand as you looked toward the man you'd always longed to know.

"No, I've had to hear about you from everyone else! " You rang, and almost regretted it. You watched him start to crumble, standing still in place all the while. But once you'd started there was no point in stopping. "And I've spent all summer desperate to learn more, but not from them."

"I- I didn't want you to..." Gwilym struggled to explain in a stuttered breath, holding his hands up for you to see.

"What? Didn't want me to find out?" You asked, "Well I did, but all I've ever wanted was to hear it from you." You shouted, hardly caring to stop the tears burning your eyes. You'd read the articles, the tabloids, and the bullshit from warped celebrity minds. But even before then, you'd been drawn to Mr. Lee. You'd seen the good in him.

"I've always been on your side." You said. "Even when you treat me like one of them. Like I don't give a shit about you. Well, I do!"

You watched his brow furrow and his eyes dart between yours. You watched him try and understand, and you couldn't hold back your frustrated tears any longer. And maybe you felt like you hadn't made yourself clear enough, or maybe you were only listening to that little voice in your head, either way, you threw yourself toward Gwilym and wrapped him in a hug.

It took him a beat to hug you back, but he did. And he held on as you tried to stop from crying, and appreciate this rare and surprising moment.

"I'm sorry." You heard him mumbled into your hair, as his comforting grip tightened ever so slightly. You couldn't help but laugh as you relished the feeling of his strong figure finally accepting you in. Then, with every way you could mean it, you assured he had nothing at all to be sorry for.

///

It took a while. A week, actually. But Gwilym eventually told you everything.

The day he followed you in your doorway, he stayed for a bit. You apologized for bursting into tears and he smiled when you looked at him and laughed about it. And then you showed him round your aunts dusty old home. You told him just how you'd come to live here, and you convinced him to stay for dinner.

While you ate, he spoke of England. He recalled growing up there, the differences between worlds, and what he missed most about the place. But before conversation could go on flourishing, the sun set and you both retired to prepare for another days work.

The next morning you cancled the plans with Dean you'd made to go to the pub. And when you told him why, he nearly toppled his canoe over by all his excitement. You had to make him sit back down and promise you'd keep him updated on your mission to be a friend to Gwil. Even though everyone involved knew, on some level, that you were keen to be a little more than friends.

But you shoved thoughts like those deep down. Now was no time to seduce the man. Now was the time to listen to him, and hope to high heavens he wanted the same thing as you.

And that night, as you made it to the island and parted ways with your friend, you found Gwilym waiting up for you just outside your home. You could have burst into another bout of tears at the notion, but you'd already made a big enough fool out of yourself once. So you rushed to invite the man in. But he stopped your stammering and asked you over to his place, instead.

His home was much grander on the inside than the simple outside made it seem. The ceilings were high and there were shelves along most of the walls, all jam packed with books and a few potted plants. As if the forest he seemed to raise outback weren't enough. There were bushes and vines and flowers of all kinds, bright in the cold blue evening.

So you sat inside and shared a drink. After mindless chatter, you started in on a conversation that led to you learning a little more about the woman he'd once been married to. He spoke of when they met and whence they moved, and why. He spoke a little of his dream of acting and how it fizzled out early on for several reasons. He spoke of Hollywood and how he blamed the city for souring everything. And then the night fell and you knew it was best to leave while you were ahead.

"I'd love to come back around when your garden is in full bloom." You invited yourself over again, reluctantly trudging toward the door. Gwilym followed along a safe distance away with his hands in his pockets.

"You're welcome back round anytime." Gwilym noted, his words packed with meaning. You tried not to melt at his invitation, the first you'd ever received. You only hoped it wouldn't be the last, and tried to hold back your gleefully nervous chuckles.

"Well good." You decided, reaching for the door. "Because I'll certainly find every excuse to stop over."

You would have kissed him then, if he were only a little closer. If you'd had a little more to drink, you would have had enough courage to crash your lips against. But you didn't. You simply let your smile linger as you struggled to tear your gaze from his. Gwilym shook his head at your staring and reached past you to open the door, keeping his pretty gaze settled on yours all the while.

So you headed for home, but made sure to look over your shoulder before you'd gone too far.

///

He'd asked her over. He was terrified as ever, maybe his fears had even shifted or tripled. But he asked her over anyway. And when she followed along with a smile, he realized there wasn't too much to be afraid of.

Still, Gwilym kept as much to himself as he could without seeming rude or uninterested. He lingered a safe distance behind as he showed her around the place he'd called home all year. She marvelled over how neat the shelves were and how lovely the old furniture was, and waved him off when he remarked how he didn't pick any of it out but had grown fond of the space all the same. And then he followed her out into the garden, where she spun between the vines. Gwilym notices the moon, as he followed it's pale light, and thought it was nowhere near as beautiful compared to the glow coming from the woman smiling up at him.

But then he was scared again... of what might happen now. Gwilym hadn't thought of the future all year. But there was nothing else to think of when she was around. He wondered where life would lead her, and he hoped, selfishly, that he'd get to follow along.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close the distance between them and hold her closer than he had when she threw herself in his arms a day before...

He didn't, though. But when she skipped toward home she looked back to him and smiled, and he decided one day, he would.

///

It was two more days before you Gwil him again. Dean seemed to understand when you left him alone on the harbour, yet you still turned and apologized and swore you'd call him round for game night by the weekend. He just laughed and pushed you along, and you hurried to catch Gwilym before he'd sailed off.

You were right on time, just like the first time. He helped you aboard, same as before, with the same strong hand he used to pull you from these very waters. You joked about it, only recalling the incident like how you remembered a varied few dreams.

"So you only liked me because I saved you from drowning," Gwilym noted, letting his boat drift toward where the sky and the sea blended.

"No, I liked you plenty before." You admitted in an embarrassed chuckle. Here you were, in the middle of the bay with the most handsome man you'd ever met. And here he was with you, and you were more nervous than the first day of this kind. The excited kind of nervous. The kind you felt before settling in a roller coaster or seeing a film you'd waited a long time to catch. This was what you'd wanted, to be here with him. But what was next, you worried?

As you talked about what led you here, and how you'd trusted your gut to start over again, Gwilym listened. And then, after a few careful questions, he told you what happened. He told you about the life he lived just before moving to Bodega Bay.

He spoke of his wife like someone he'd read about once. Like his connection to her was something he'd only ever heard of and never felt. But he was kind in his descriptors and he even chuckled when he recounted how happy they were for a moment. But only a moment, he said.

Then Gwilym told you much of what Dean already had. How she'd started going out, and treating him poorly for worrying over her whereabouts. How one night Gwilym went to a party he knew she'd be the life of, and found her there canoodling with some famous director. How Mrs. Lee blamed Gwilym for embarrassing her. How he'd missed her long before she was gone for good.

Then he recounted what happened the night his wife and her sister came home from a long weekend away. How scared he'd been when he couldn't reach her. How poorly she'd made him feel for being upset by it all. How she kicked her sister out of the guest room, where she'd already retired to spin records and light candles. His wife scratched the record to a stop and slammed the door in Gwilyms face as he begged her to come to some kind of resolution. He said she'd answered his pleas through the door with muffled curses and clatters, like she was tossing things about in her drunken ire.

Gwilym recalled how it went quiet, for too long. And how he couldn't open the door when he started to try. How he broke the handle when black smoke started billowing into the hall, and she wasn't answering when he called her name. How right as he planned to bust the door down flames curled from the crack near the floor and started to spread, chasing him away.

Gwilym said he scooped up his sister in law from the sofa and tossed her toward the staircase that led to freedom. He said that he didn't even see Dean there. Gwilym only realized his friend had shown up when he reached out and stopped him from turning back to the apartment. Gwilym knew his wife was gone, and his attempts weren't worth it, but he said he still felt like he had to try.

///

He'd never rambled for it for so long, not even to himself or the rose bushes. By the end of his tale, when there might have been a little left to say, but everything had already become clear, he caught a glimpse of her face and the way she sat listening. There was little pity in her gaze, and no judgement. There was something he'd never seen before... and it warmed him. He didn't feel small under her watchful eye. He felt heard and a little lighter for having spoken the things he never really dared to before.

"Why here?" She asked, never daring to look away from him.

"Dean offered. Gave me another place to stay. And a job.  And I just couldn't go back to my family... I can't."

"Why?" Her simple question made him smile despite the ache in his heart.

"I'm afraid of what they might think. If I might not be able to change their minds. And then I really wouldn't have anyone." Gwilym stated simply.  "It's like as long as I keep them at a distance they won't change. I know that's grotesquely selfish." He shook his head, keeping his grin of disbelief.  

"Gwilym," She said, once he'd finally looked to her once more. "You have me." She reached out for his hand. And he held her gaze. He might never come to understand her kindness. But he'd be a fool by failing to accept it any longer.

Gwilym thought things would never change. That his past would always hang heavily and shade his future. And maybe that was true. But for the first time instead of accepting so, he took the chance of letting her in on his greatest fears.

Perhaps it was better to have someone brilliant to be certain of, amidst the unchanging darkness. And perhaps he could never repay her with any of the flickering beams of hope and laughter she pulled from him. The good she saw that was left of Gwilym had been polished, and he wasn't sure it would ever be enough. But he had to try and make it more than so.

So that night, when the wind grew too cold without the sun warming their time on the water, he let her come back to his place, like he promised. He made dinner and listened to the stories she told between butting in to help him cook. He let himself become lost in thoughts of her as his gaze lingered when she wasn't looking.

And after they ate, she fell asleep on his sofa while he cleaned everything up. But instead of pacing through the kitchen like he did when he couldn't sleep; he sat back at the table, glanced to the woman dreaming in his parlour, and pulled out a pen and paper.

///

You'd never been more glad to live in Bodega Bay. Gwilym let you breeze in whenever you pleased, and some days he'd even surprised you by stopping over your place with drinks.

You'd started bringing Dean along, and roping the two men into playing poker and staying up late to watch specials on the telly. Gwilym always sat nearest to you, and shared looks that lasted a little too long and laughs over things you knew Dean missed the joke on. But your friend seemed just as happy to be apart. To be with the two of you. He'd even started sharing chats with Gwilym while you insisted on making lunch. You caught glimpses of the two of them in Gwil's garden, in the midst of some sort of serious talks. And you'd never been happier to see such stoic faces chatting away. It was what the both of them needed.

Gwilym wouldn't go out with the two of you though. He apologized for shooting down the invite so quickly, but you assured him not to worry. You figured he'd say no. But you still couldn't help but to extend the offer.

The next time you managed for a night out and about, though, you came to understand Gwilym's reasons for staying in better than ever.

Jake was there-  with a group of his friends in the farthest corner of the pub you and Dean liked to go to. He noticed you, and started to move reluctantly across the place, like he was being forced to approach you. You shot Dean one stern look, warning him to let you deal with this on your own. Your friend grumbled in agreeance as he turned to go find a table for the pair of you, keeping a sidelong glance on the blonde boy who'd come to face you.

"I'm sorry for what happened, and the fact it took me till now to say so." Jake seemed genuine in his speak, though his body language suggested otherwise. His feet were pointed away, prepared to rush off, it seemed.

"It's okay, really. You warned me, and you tried to hold on." You shrugged, recalling the night Jake tried to stop you from climbing the railing you fell from. It was a scary thing, but it was all over now. You'd started to walk away, but your pale haired friend stopped you from going just yet.

"Listen, I-I know you moved here looking for some kind of fun, or whatever," Jake stuttered as you'd spun to face him once more. "But is hanging around the resident killer really how you get your kicks? People are talking about you, and they don't have a lot of good to say." Jake rubbed the back of his neck as you gaped at him.

"If this is you keeping my best interest in mind, you're doing a shitty job of it." You rang, watching Jake look around to the few people you stood near.

"it's just, he's not-"

"Gwilym is a better man than you'll ever be." You pointed, before turning to leave the kid behind. Maybe you'd spoken a little too loudly, because as you headed to find Dean, you saw the eyes of nearly every patron turned your way. But they weren't just stunned by your outburst. They were chattering with each other as you walked by. Gossiping about more than the way Gwilym's name passed from your lips in defence, but how they'd seen you with him before.

You smiled, despite it all, and were practically reduced to laughter by the time you reached Dean. Your heart ached at the thought of Gwilym having to endure such disdain every time he left his home. But you were glad to be on the receiving end. Maybe the sound of his name proudly rolling from your lips would change their minds... eventually. Maybe it wouldn't. But you were proud, and you hoped defending Gwilym made everyone who never had curdle with remorse.

///

The holidays were approaching and the cold seemed unexpectedly bitter so near the water. Still, you went about your day as ever, chatting with Dean on rides, working away, spending your earnings to keep the lights on and the rest on records and expensive wine to share with your friends. You only had two, but they drained your alcohol as quickly as a family of five. Still, you couldn't have been happier.

You don't tell Gwilym about all the time's ladies at the market call you a dirty sinner for spending your free time with him. You only smiled at them and warned their hatred would send them to hell surer than Mr. Lee would be banished there.

You found old misplaced books in the library's attic when you wander up to sort it out on the slow days. And you'd bring them to Gwil, because he'd told you all the many books lining his shelves had been read and read again.

You even scored a free new hardback, when the printing company shipped out a book with the title misspelled. You toted the new story all the way home, and hugged Dean goodbye at the base of the island. He was headed to his cousins family home for Thanksgiving, and you missed him the moment he rowed away.

But you weren't alone. You had Gwilym. He'd started leaving his door unlocked, so you could burst in whenever you pleased, and you did on many occasions, but always with good reason. To catch a film on the telly, or share some of the better desserts you'd learned to make from scratch.

Now, you rested the new book on his bare coffee table, and flung yourself to his golden sofa, where you started complaining about your day before he'd even found his way into the room to greet you.

When Gwilym appeared in the archway of the parlour, you were unusually caught off guard by his appearance. There was a beard starting to decorate his sharp jaw, and the first few buttons of the white shirt he wore were undone.

"Can I read something to you?" He asked, in such a rush that you hoped his sudden question would be reason enough for your stunned silence, and he hadn't caught you ogling him.

"Of course." You nodded, noticing the piece of folded paper in his hand. You shook yourself out of your staring but watched as he moved into the room, decidedly resting near the coffee table at your feet. Gwilym unfolded the paper and looked up to you before he started to read. Though you had no idea what was going on, you gave him a sure nod and leaned ever closer to listen.

"So," He looked from the paper to you again. "A while ago I decided to write this letter. To my family. And, well, okay..."

Gwilym stammered, and then dove straight into reading from the paper in his grasp. You watched his pretty blue eyes scan the page, and listened as he read the note that started with his apology for going so long without reaching out to them before. Gwilym's letter was short. It was filled with a simple wish that his family was doing well, and that he might see them again one day. When he finished, he looked up to you like he was looking for approval.

"I think..." He said, leaving the paper to rest on top of the book you'd brought for him. "I think I want to send it to them." Gwilym searched your face as you straightened in place and smiled.

"Gwil, that's great news!" You chirped. "There's a post box right outside the library. I could take it-"

"No." He said, loud and sure. Your grin faltered as Gwilym shook his head, and spoke up again.

"I want to take it." He said. "But I would like if you came along."

You could have squealed, or did a little dance. You could have opened the door and declared to the whole island that you'd never been happier. But instead, you lunged from your perch on the sofa and kissed Gwilym. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his, and struggled to hold back a contented sigh when he started kissing you back. His fingers pressed against your shoulder blades, holding you close as you kept your lips to his as long as you could hold your breath.

When you finally broke away, you looked in his brilliant blue eyes, and waited for him to say something.

"So, you think it's a good idea?" Gwilym asked. And past your rapid heartbeat, you managed a laugh. Despite your sweaty palms, you settled on your knees before the man, with both of your hands on his broad shoulders.

"I know it is." You nodded, searching his face, all its angles and beauty. Then it was decided you'd deliver it the very next morning, as he stood to his feet and held out a hand to help you do the same. Gwilym collected his letter, and you recalled the book you'd brought for him, reaching for it with a gasp of remembrance and holding it out for him to take.

And later, after you insisted on making dinner, you asked him to crack open the pages and read a little to tell if the plot was of any interest.

With the book in hand, Gwilym settled on the sofa at your side, and muttered through the first few sentences- like he would when you asked about the many books already in his collection. "Better to let them speak for themselves," He'd say.

But now, he kept just reading on, turning page after page by the soft lamp light. So you listened, and rested your head on his shoulder as he told the tale, not missing a beat as you leaned into his side. You felt the resonance of his voice as he spoke, and relished the warmth of the sweater he'd changed into. You recalled the feeling of his lips moving against yours, and hope this was the first of many nights like this one.

///

He'd never been happier, it was certain. But the fact still boggled him. He'd been to places he'd always dreamed- and indulged in outrageous fun with people he'd cared for on days with perfect weather. But here, now, in the middle of his darkest hour, she made him the happiest he'd ever been.

And she didn't even have to kiss him to make it so. That was just a nice surprise. Something he'd been too nervous to make happen himself. So when she made the move, he kissed her back with all the care he'd been saving up, and hoped it wasn't too long until the next time.

She remained close to his side the next day, when he set off to town with a letter in his hand. And when he slid it into the post box, all he felt was the urgent pang to turn and look at her, and ask what she fancied doing the rest of the day. He was stupidly head over heels for the woman, and the way he'd come to recognize the smile on her face. The way he knew she wanted nothing more than to parade around town at his side, yet shrugged and suggested heading home and listening to some of the records she'd bought the weekend before.

The way she'd let herself into his home, and start yammering on about her day no matter if he was in the room or not. How she'd bustle about his kitchen and take the food over to her place for a last minute change of scenery. How she'd make him go out into his garden at least three times a week and insist he ramble to her about the growth of the plants he'd taken to caring for.

How when she was away, he knew she'd be back. How he didn't have to worry.

When Christmas was drawing near, their connection had become familiar, but unchanged. She hadn't kissed him since the first time, and every time he thought of making a move he'd talk himself out of being so bold. But he let her hold onto his arm when she waited up for a ride across the bay. And he let her curl into his side when they watched specials on the telly. He draped his arm around her then, and lost himself in the comfort of closeness, and tried not to worry if it would last. He knew he was lucky to be on the receiving end of anything so special at all, these days. He didn't dare push his luck.

But he let her fall asleep there, against his shoulder. And instead of laying her against the cushions, or waking her to send home, he happily fell asleep too.

///

"It's Christmas! Please open up!"

The pounding at the door sprung you from slumber, and you hardly cared how you must have looked in your fluster to answer the door.

Dean was bundled up in layers with a stack of presents in hand. You could see his breath as he cursed you for taking so long to answer, just before wishing you a very Merry Christmas. Then you rushed through Gwilym's home to find a mirror and a moment to fix yourself up. Had you really fallen asleep next to the guy? You'd been forced into consciousness so quickly that you didn't get to relish waking at his side. It was a bit of a good thing, you decided, as you'd been graced with a little time to straighten your wrinkled sweater and pin your hair back into place before you saw Gwilym again.

Out of all the Christmas mornings you'd enjoyed, this one was already the best. Gwilym's home was cozy, and the tree you'd encouraged him to trim was so quaint near the window, masking the cold on the other side with bright red bulbs shining from every branch.

Dean was shuffling about the tree, scattering the presents he'd brought along and complaining about his most recent family gathering and how it'd ended in a political debate no one won. You floated back to Gwil's sofa, a space you'd taken quite a liking too in recent months. He wasn't there, where you'd left him, but instead taking cautious steps through the archway you'd only just breezed through. in his grasp, two cups of cocoa to match the third and final mug already rested on the coffee table, between stacks of books.

When Gwilym abandoned the drinks, he fell onto the sofa at your side, and it might have seemed as though you'd never left your places from the night before. You found yourself tucked right under the arm he kept over the back of the sofa; as you both watched Dean toss the last of his presents under the tree with a share snicker. When Dean turned to curse the pair of you for laughing at him on Christmas, he stopped mid reprimand and said,

"Oh so it's like that now, is it?" The boy whose dark hair was still masked under a knitted cap gestured between the two of you.

"Always was, wasn't it?" Gwilym was quick to respond, as Dean shrugged and reached to turn the telly to a Christmas programme.

No sooner than Gwilym spoke did you tear yourself from his side to reach for the presents you'd wrapped a month earlier. You placed your gifts in front of the men you'd come to adore more than you knew was possible. And they traded their own with you. Between boxes of ties and cookbooks, and records, and gift cards, you couldn't imagine life could get better than this. Yet you still hoped it couldn't get any worse. And that days in such company wouldn't end, even when there were no gifts or secrets left to trade.

///

By boxing day, you'd had a chance to clean yourself up and sort away the gifts from your friends. You'd properly stored away the desserts Gwilym sent you home with, and had nothing better to do by mid afternoon than to return his freshly cleaned kitchenware.

When you reached Gwilyms door, you collected the mail from the box he always forgot to check and breezed in with the announcement that you were delivering all sorts of things to the kitchen. You let the mail fall to the table as you went about sorting pans into the cupboards you knew they belonged in.

Gwilym sauntered in, totally unphased by your presence, trading a simple hello. When you turned from sorting away dishes, he'd moved across the kitchen and startled you by being so suddenly close. Before you could ask why, you noticed. There was an envelope in his hand and a look in his eye that reminded you of the look he wore when you met.

"They wrote back." He spoke, keeping his bright eyes fixed on yours. Had he expected radio silence from his family? Or was he worried to open the letter to heartbreak? Either way, there their response was, between his long fingers. You gave him a nod, encouraging him in whatever his next move was, silently hoping he'd tear the seal. Another beat past before he leaned back against the counter and opened the envelope.

You stood a few paces away, wringing your hands as Gwilym unfolded a letter in silence. You watched him tuck a lip between his teeth as his eyes scanned the page.

"They say it's nice to hear from me." He sort of mumbled like he was reading from one of those storybooks of his. "And that they miss me."

"They say... they want me to come home." Gwilym's voice subtly cracked, as he rose a hand to run a set of fingers across his beard. You watched as he grinned, and turned his eyes to you.

"Well?" You asked in a quiet breath. "Are you gonna go?" You didn't want to ask, though. Because as much as you wanted nothing more than for Gwilym to be happy, really happy... you'd miss him.

Gwilym considered your question and seemed to watch you think. You held your breath as if that would stall your thoughts and hoped he couldn't hear how heavily your heartbeat. Gwilym seemed to decide something, moving his head as he reached to leave the letter on the countertop behind him. He pressed the heels of his hands against the space, and looked right at you with a question of his own.

"Would you come with me?"

"You want me to come with you?" You asked through a stunned chuckled, wondering if he could have at all been kidding. Wondering what the catch was. Gwilym watched you trying to understand, and pushed himself from the counter. He closed the space between the two of you by raising both of his strong hands, and holding your face in his gentle touch.

He seemed to search for the right words but he settled instead for a nod as his eyes peered into yours.

And you knew better than to say no. When had life opened up such a grand opportunity? The last time that happened, chances lead you right to Gwil. The simple thought of taking another step through life side by side was enough to send your heart into a frenzy. Your boggled mind swept away all logical thought, so all you could do was nod along, and smile like an idiot.

Then Gwilym kissed you. He wrapped his arms around you so tight you couldn't budge even if you wanted too. But there was no place else you could imagine being. He kissed you into a dizzy trance. You couldn't even be sure if you were kissing him back with the proper gusto, you just held on and hoped he was alright with the fact you didn't plan on ever letting go.

///

It took a while. A few more months before you and Gwilym even began to discuss making it official. By then, you’d gotten through almost all of the hard talks. And once the cold started to leave, it was decided the pair of you would too.

"Is that everything?" Dean wondered, still sporting that silly, ill-fitting knit cap though spring had started to blossom

"Hm, should I throw out a couple of sweaters and make room for you?" You asked the guy, passing your luggage to Gwilym who took your last bag to the boat waiting at the base of the island.

"Someone's gotta be here to give you a lift, when you get back." Dean wagged a finger, pushing you toward his trusty old ride and worrying that you'd miss your flight. He worried all the way across the bay, actually; if you'd packed enough and left a key in the right spot, so he could come and manage Gwil's garden. Dean demanded one of you phone when you got to where you were going, and helped you carry your bags onto the boardwalk. Dean even waited with you as Gwilym went into the shop to call a cab.

You said the last of your goodbyes to the friend you'd come to know, confident your connection was one that would never die. Dean pulled you into a constricting hug when Gwilym came back. And after a while, you whispered a small thanks into Dean's ear. He'd been the best kind of friend you had ever known.

"Help him write one of those letters to me, too, okay?" Dean nodded toward Gwilym, as he pulled away from your embrace. You gave a mock salute and let your heart melt a little when the two men shared their own goodbye.

Your friend turned around the boardwalk to wave every few feet, as he trailed off to the shop. You waved back every time, and Gwilym laughed, keeping one hand firmly curled into your side.

"You sure about this?" He asked, in that delightful accent of his, as his gaze swept across the town. A cab was sputtering closer from the highway. You responded by reaching for his hand, and drawing his knuckles close enough to kiss. Even though you'd come far enough to hold his hand and share midnights together, reassurance was never neglected. And you still had lots more to share, anyway. More to talk about. More to see. More life to live, and figure out with Gwilym.

He gave your hand a squeeze before his grasp slipped away at the appearance of your ride. The driver shuffled out of the car to help Gwilym toss your bags into the boot.

"Where too?" The driver asked before settling back behind the wheel.

"The airport." Gwilym grinned, opening the back door for you, and following as you slid to settle and enjoy the ride.

"Home." You corrected, with a nod toward the man you'd come to adore. He responded by lacing his fingers through yours once more and placing a kiss on the back of your hand, his eyes staying glued to yours all the while, bluer that the waters you'd once fallen into.

Moving here was probably the best thing you ever did. But leaving was already better.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[doctorguilty]

BARK BARK I fell asleep after taking a muscle relaxer and I had my first dream about ghostie it was SHORT but 🥺💞 it's fluffy and stupid not murdery at all but I'm not complaining

It took place in like the real world (not the fog) And it was kinda goofy, I was in like.. a haunted house/escape room combo, i was in a group of strangers and the place was really big, i lost everyone and I had trouble seeing in the dark. I was looking for a flashlight since there were like tools you could find to help you.

I felt someone sneaking up on me and I hid in the corner (I guess it was set up like a game of tag where if the monster actors caught you a certain amount of times, you lost. This is a good idea why did my dream come up with such a good idea?????? )

I got found by someone in a classic ghostie costume and I was like EEP but he didn't tag me or w/e, just nodded a bunch and left a flashlight behind. I was like ,, okay o.o ! Every time I saw him after, he would do the same thing and just help me progress in some way and then disappear off. (This is sooo my brain projecting like video game stuff aaaaa how embarrassing but cute) The other players observed this at some point and got really mad @ me djfjfkdjfb like man it's not my fault!

I ended up escaping the game, I don't really remember what happened after that vividly, I think maybe i was at some halloween fair or something? Like that's where this was taking place? But he suddenly popped up again somewhere else i casually was, just sorta did the classic jumpscare where I turned around and he was RIGHT up in my face just standing there. And he like didn't say anything I was like oh haha it's you? 👉👈

Details are hazy again just like the next thing I knew I was walking around and he was holding my hand the whole time but not saying anything. I'd try to ask him something every now and again but the most he did was chuckle a little and nothing else

Then the next thing I remember was I was at home, actually more specifically I guess my grandparents where i lived a while but i was the only one there I was like house sitting or something. Funny thing is I've always been scared to be home alone there, the house us very big and the walls creak a lot, I'm paranoid about home intruders. I was watching TV in the kitchen eating some snacks.

I started hearing sounds around the house and i was scared someone was there. I looked all around the rooms and couldn't find anything but I was just so goosebumpy afraid someone broke in.. i go back to the kitchen and guess who's just, sitting there at the table, looking directly at me eating snacks jfjdjfjskjfke STILL in costume. I almost had a heart attack

But of course simp me is like oh haha 👉👈 hi .. you scared me....

I sat next to him at the table and at that point he did talk to me but I can't remember any of what we were talking about, at one point I was holding both his hands between us and leaning towards him and I asked if he was ever going to take off the mask and he was like, no, and I was like okay fine, and I jokingly tried to kiss his mask but he kept leaning away in a teasing manner and then when I finally got him he'd quickly lifted the mask just enough I'd kiss him on the mouth >//< ... I was really shy about that (and the funny thing is even dream me didn't like the "taste" I don't really do a lot of kissing I hate the taste and texture of saliva BUT I'll do it sometimes anyway becuase I like the feeling if that makes sense? I'm kind of a peck on the lips kinda guy haha ..) .. but while he still had it lifted I kissed him one more time a few seconds longer

He had coarse facial stubble, the kind that's like growing back a couple days after shaving like this:

WHICH IS..... my exact headcanon for a typical jed ol/sen so like lmao RIP dream me they probably got murdered later but that was about it for the dream itself haha

Anyway jjrjrjfjakjndjfjf combusts ...

[echo-three-one]

Hey guys. If you don't mind. I'll drop another fic I made last year. It's a one-shot I made after watching a ton of Christmas movies and being alone despite having family over the holidays.

Enjoy.

December 24, 2020

6:34 PM

They say you'll never feel the Christmas spirit if you've never bought a gift at the last minute. I always told myself not to buy at this time but I had to. Earlier today, I made the biggest mistake of posting something on Instagram. A post that sends me to a situation I'll never understand how to feel.

"Even though I can't make it home, they really brought home to me." I posted along with a photo of my family on a zoom meeting doing Christmas preparations. It was supposed to be a post detailing how I was going to be busy for the night and actually skip the celebration, but it caught the attention of the person I least expect it to reach.

"Hey, I just saw that you're still in town. If you're free you could have some Christmas Eve dinner with us, Ellie probably wants to see her godfather. :)" Cassandra messaged.

I gulped . Cassandra once again haunted me. It's been three years since she's married and five since we broke up but she still has this effect on me. You wouldn't understand my next actions but as a person who's been with her for almost 5 years, it'll be much clearer. Plus, maybe seeing her happy with her family will make me move on, because even though she's married and all, I still can't get over the fact that she slipped right out of my hands and went to a person she just met. And I'm not mad, Elliot is a great guy, I just don't know what happened. Maybe I took it too far when I told her I'd do anything just to make her happy.

And now, here I am, on a road off to their home. With Ellie's gift on the back, and my whole self trying to finally move on with my first love. I'm not sure if I'll make it out while sober, but it's of best intentions not to drink as to set an example to my dear god daughter.

In our five years of being together, we almost talked about a lot of stuff, one of them was that we were supposed to live in a suburban area out of town with all the white picket fences and hosting house warming parties for newcomers. I'll always say that I don't care where we live as long as we're in the same bed together, everything's perfect for me. Then she'd just laugh at me for having such simple dreams, and I'll just smile.

Guess her side of the deal felt accomplished.

I carefully parked just outside her car behind a cool scooter, guess I won't be alone with the family and I guess that's great. I glanced over at her house and saw Cassandra by the door, all dolled up for Christmas while Ellie was hugging her leg bouncing up and down excited to see her Christmas Guests. I took a deep breath and looked at myself on the mirror, I've been doing this for years now and I still get nervous when she's around. It's like I'm always finding a way to flee quickly from reality but today is the day I want it to stop, for my own sake. I quickly texted her that I have a "surprise" and it requires Ellie to not see me just yet and as soon as she got the message, they went back in and closed the door.

I donned myself with a santa outfit I bought last year and took Ellie's gift out and slowly make my way into their home. It was extra hard to walk because I really put an effort to make my body santa like with all these pillows inside my costume.

"Ho Ho Ho" I laughed as I knocked on the door, I heard Ellie scream from behind and Cass telling her to go see who it is.

The door burst open and Ellie was already bouncing up and down. "Santa! Mommy! Daddy! Santa is here!" She then hugged me and It felt wonderful, like all my fears we're drained by this little girl.

"Santa gets to sit next to the reindeer!" she said, pulling my hand to their living room. I carefully waddled my way while she pulls me excitedly and settled in their couch beside a reindeer.

"Hey Nate, nice touch on the santa belly." Raquel the reindeer said. Ah yes, of course the godmother also has to be here.

"You too, Vixen" I smiled awkwardly, but behind this thick santa beard, she'll never know.

Raquel is Cassandra's best friend, I've known that long enough that they're inseparable because we'd always go eat out together back then, she'd bring a boy sometimes, she'd bring a girl, sometimes she's alone, but one thing for sure is she's always there.

"Mommy! I wanna sit on santa! I have so much questions for him!" Ellie interjects as she makes her way toward me and I happily accept her and let her sit on my lap.

"Ah. Ellie! You know I've been watching you all year! You've been a very good girl, that's why I have you this gift! Merry Christmas!"

I said as I hand over her gift.

"Santa, won't you be late to deliver other gifts from around the world? and why do you like milk and cookies so much? How do you fit inside chimneys?" She asked as she hugged my pillow belly.

"I-uh" I stammered. wow this girl asks a lot!

"Ellie, you know thats not the real santa. It's your godfather Nate!" Cassie interrupts, knowing full well I'm in a pinch. That's one thing I like about her, she saves me from the pressures of social interaction, she balances me out.

"Really?" Ellie squeaks more excitedly as she pulls off my beard! "Nate! it's been so long!" she hugs.

In fact it wasn't, just last week we bumped into each other at the mall, but hey, kids have different orientations on time.

"Ho ho ho. You got me Ellie!" I say as I take off my costume and handed over the pillow to the reindeer. "I kinda assumed you were gonna be here too." I chuckled. She also handed me a gift.

"Likewise. You literally sent a beacon of sadness with that Instagram post" she laughed.

"Okay! Dinner's ready!" Elliot called us over as we all took dinner.

Dinner was specifically awkward for me. The four of them felt like they always know what's up with each other and I'm literally the odd one out.

"Nate, come here." Ellie said, as she pulls me in and we both sneak out to her room.

Cassandra and Elliot both nod at me and smiled signaling me to go along with her.

"What is it Ellie?"

"I have a doll house here!" She said, as she pointed on her toy.

"So, who are the people living on your house?" I ask, looking for persons inside.

"No one. Mommy keeps the tiny stuff so I won't eat them." she smiled as we both talk about her house.

Then it dawned on me. This may be the actual chance. I reached for my pocket and brought out a miniature statue of a groom and a bride. I bought this years ago as a joke if ever Cassandra and I ever want to get married but I never had the chance to give it to her back then.

"I have here a happy couple. It's big enough that you can't swallow it. Perhaps they can find a home here?"

Ellie excitedly grabbed and looked at it. Just like Mommy and Daddy's photo. I smiled. My heart slowly eases itself on reality. A truth I've been evading for so long.

"You know what? Let's just put them here and head back to dinner, shall we?"

Ellie places the figurine in front of the house and rode on my shoulder.

"Yeah! Let's go eat Daddy's cooking!"

With a smile on my face, We both bolted back to the Dining room, with a promise that I'll be a great godfather to this precious child.

[mayhembunnywrites]

Chapter 4: Unpleasant Truths

It was with shock and growing hope that Su-Ryeon was forced to head back to Hera Palace, the knowledge that her husband would eventually look for her hanging over her head like the most ominous shadow.

“Min Seol-Ah, Anna Lee…” she whispers to herself on the way back, daring to hope that Seol-Ah would be available to speak with in the near future. She had spoken with her own daughter in passing, never realizing who she truly was...

She did not know, then, that the opportunity would never arrive.

The beautiful gown that Su-Ryeon had picked out would do nicely, she decided. It was a costume that she would wear like armor, beautiful and ethereal. She could only hope it was enough to distract her husband.

Stepping into the familiar elevator that would take her to the venue for the party, Su-Ryeon prepares herself for a moment, the quiet a welcome friend in place of the recent chaos. The fireworks distract her, beautiful in their many colors and taking her breath away as she watches them for a second until--

She watches in horror as the form of a girl is flung from a balcony, a scream involuntarily wrenching itself from Su-Ryeon’s throat before she realizes that she knows that face, would know it in her dreams and only then, because her daughter, Min Seol-Ah, was the one flung from that balcony.

The image of her daughter covered in blood, stretching out a hand to Su-Ryeon, would stick with her for the rest of her life. It would haunt her nightmares and appear behind her eyelids -- and the image of her daughter amidst broken glass and in the arms of Hera herself, the both of them covered in blood.

The shock overwhelms Su-Ryeon as she watches her daughter fall, and her breathing grows faster as she scratches frantically at the glass and then the door, trying her best to save her daughter despite hope.

It is with that hope that she collapses, the stress from all of what had happened over the past week catching up to her and causing her to faint.

-----

Su-Ryeon wakes up to a woman standing over her, the familiar face of the caretaker Dan-Tae had hired, not comforting in the least. The sensation of an IV drip wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to Su-Ryeon, but it was unusual to wake up attached to one. It is then that she remembers what had happened--

The sight of her daughter -- Min Seol-Ah -- falling to her death, the girl obviously flung from the balcony. The memory nearly brings her to tears, but she represses them in favor of her concern.

‘You never know,’ she thinks desperately, ‘she could, after all, survive that fall...right?’ Su-Ryeon rushes past the woman, ignoring her obviously false pretenses and heading straight to the elevator after ripping out the line of the IV.

She knows that something has happened only after stepping out of the elevator and looking up at the glass ceiling to see if it was still there -- and it was obviously missing. It was the only thing she really noticed, and the party was obviously still in full swing for the Hera Palace residents.

The ‘concern’ shown for Su-Ryeon was obviously fake to her, the reassurances from her husband and him urging her to go back to bed. The love that was shown from him before no longer seems pure in intention, but more pure manipulation.

Soon enough, Su-Ryeon watches and applauds as her husband takes his place as the MC of the event, only...The statue she had seen earlier which was covered in blood was now spotless.

‘I’m certain she fell onto the fountain,’ Su-Ryeon thinks to herself contemplatively. Had it been a nightmare, she wondered? A terrible vision after her fainting? ‘Was it a dream,’ she asks herself.

Conversation seems to flow around Su-Ryeon, she notices absently as people toast to Hera and her husband interacts with various politicians. Her eyes wander around the room as if searching for some sign, any sign, of her daughter.

It is only then that she looks at her husband, pushing down the ever-growing ball of hatred she feels towards him, and notices the blood on his shirt. She does not dare comment, for Su-Ryeon is not a stupid woman by any means and she does not want to risk her life or the lives of her children over a simple comment.

She smiles politely, even as she recognizes the congressman from the photos with Seol-Ah. She mentally notes down his name for later as the man compliments her beauty, and she quickly is dismissed after that in favor of the congressman speaking with Dan-Tae.

She looks around the room carefully, as to not draw attention to herself, and it is then that she notices even more blood on the Hera Palace members. Blood on Yoon-Chul’s knuckle, behind Gyu-Jin’s ear. Su-Ryeon snaps out of her observations when the congressman points out a shoe that is ever familiar to Shim Su-Ryeon -- the shoe of her daughter, Min Seol-Ah.

“I think our kids were playing around,” says Dan-Tae to the congressman, laughing it off without hesitation.

‘I didn’t see it wrong,’ she thinks with horror, ‘I’m certain it was Seol-Ah.’ It is only when the Hera Club members start placing blame on the children -- her twins -- that she snaps out of it to approach the group of curious teens who all seem to have varied expressions, from politely confused smiles to carefully controlled masks of neutrality.

Su-Ryeon takes a breath before smiling brightly at the group of teens, her eyes resting on Seok-Kyung and Seok-Hoon for a moment as she checks them over, only relaxing completely once she confirms that they’re alright.

Seok-Hoon approaches his mother first, Seok-Kyung following behind him as they approach her. She takes them in, just for a moment, and opens her mouth to speak and ask them if they wanted to go home yet, but ---

“There was a fire in Bosuk Village?” the abrasive voice of the congressman says, catching Su-Ryeon’s attention with its volume. “Well, an orphan lived there alone, what can I do? Am I a firefighter or what?”

Su-Ryeon quickly grasps her children by the arms and leads them to the elevator with a smile and a nod to the crowd watching, ignoring all of them as she tries to stop the tears from falling. She stops in front of the elevator and looks Seok-Hoon in the eyes, the image of her nearly-grown son bringing her more comfort than ever imaginable.

“You and your sister should head to bed, Seok-Hoon,” Su-Ryeon says, a smile that would fool neither twin making its way onto her face, “I’ll be joining you soon enough, so just rest tonight, alright?” She waits and watches as her children quickly agree, the twins clearly realizing that something was wrong.

It is only then that Su-Ryeon leaves the lobby, ignoring the eyes that follow her out of the door and into the car. She drives to Bosuk Village with a heavy heart, already knowing what awaits her despite not having arrived.

The crowd surrounding the apartment complex easily gives way to the clearly distressed woman in the formal gown and coat, and although they give her strange looks, she ignores them in favor of approaching the cautionary tape that the police had placed.

Su-Ryeon only notices the body bag when she actually arrives at the front of the crowd, and it is to her heart-wrenching sadness that she notices her daughter, the daughter who had been practically under her the entire time, being zipped into a body bag.

‘Seol-Ah died?’ she thinks to herself, nearly unbelieving despite the now definite proof of Seol-Ah’s death. She is quickly taken out of her stupor by the detectives discussing the will they had found on the rooftop, the claims that her daughter had committed suicide only proven wrong to her with her knowledge of the situation.

She stands as her daughter’s body is taken away, and she watches it happen without chasing the ambulance. Rage mixes with overwhelming grief as she stands, and she stays standing until she is alone in front of the apartment. She leaves after everyone else has, even the police, and she climbs into her car and drives home, leaving broken pieces of her heart and soul behind her as she goes.

-----

The last time she sees her daughter is at her autopsy, the one she had bribed the medical examiner to perform on her behalf. ‘She is beautiful, even in death,’ Su-Ryeon thinks as a tear falls and she places her hand into Seol-Ah’s hand.

She listens attentively as the medical examiner speaks about the cause of death, “The cause of death is damage to her brain and cervical spine due to the fall,” the man says softly, as if concerned for the crying woman in front of him.

Su-Ryeon tries to hold back the tears for the sake of the medical examiner, the poor man obviously just wanting to get this over with and to get back to dealing with the dead instead of the living.

“There’s something unusual, though. I found this inside her body.” He holds out a plastic bag containing a USB stick, and confusion lights upon Su-Ryeon’s face.

“What is this?” she asks, taking the bag with caution as if it was a precious treasure unlike any other.

The man only pauses a moment before answering her question, “I think she swallowed it before she died.”

Su-Ryeon thanks the man politely, bowing to him despite her tears as he leaves the room. She waits to see the door close before turning to the cold, dead body of Seol-Ah and letting tears fall freely, putting the plastic bag in her pocket before taking Seol-Ah’s hand back into hers.

“Seol-Ah, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “for coming too late and not recognizing you. I’m so sorry for leaving you all alone. Everything is my fault, I was too foolish,” Su-Ryeon continues, stroking her daughter’s hair with caution. “Seol-Ah, who did this to you?” she asks helplessly, “I’ll find out who did this to you and tear that person into tiny pieces,” she says before breaking completely, falling to her knees next to the person who she wished, desperately, could respond.

The room remains quiet.

-----

Returning home to find her husband drinking alone wasn’t all that unusual to Su-Ryeon, but to find him drinking with Cheon Seo-Jin in front of the glass windows that overlook the city was shocking.

‘Really, Dan-Tae?’ Su-Ryeon thinks to herself even as tears fill her eyes, knowing that she had ignored the signs of his affair desperately, and now she was confronted with the truth of the matter.

Her husband was clearly interested in Seo-Jin, a married woman. It was a fact that she wishes she could ignore as she watches the pair kiss passionately before they move to the couch, the pair laying down and completely oblivious to her presence. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before turning around, clenching the handles of her purse in her fists as she leaves the apartment with as little sound as possible.

Hot tears run down her cheeks as she gets into the main elevator of Hera Palace, alone for a rare moment.

Shim Su-Ryeon leaves unnoticed and no one chases after her.

‘At least for today,’ she thinks once she is in her car, tears running down her cheeks and stinging her eyes, ‘I can be alone for once.’

The silence that surrounds her hurts almost as much as the grief itself.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

title: duty calls chapter 2

[ch.1] [ffnet] [ao3]

summary: It’s been a while since the Uchiha moved out of her apartment, and so far, living with his best friend has proved itself to be quite the challenge. The pandemic was still far from over, and though they were both following the orders and staying inside, their hearts ached for the one who had to stay out there.

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a/n: It’s finally here! Chapter 2 of Duty Calls, as we were all expecting it, and I just gotta thank you all for the wonderful feedback I’ve received after posting chapter 1! Here in Brazil, things are still far from being controlled, and though my family is fine, It’s still overwhelming to see all the numbers rising every day. I’ve tried to use a bit of my experience to continue this story and even if I know it was my way of coping, I understand that, for someone else, it might be too much, so take it easy, ok? Times are though, for sure, but we’ll get through this! Again, I hope you enjoy this fic, and as always, I would love to know your opinion on it! 

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And in a matter of 3 weeks, the city of Konoha was no longer the same.

Though safety measures had been taken and people had been careful, it all proved itself pointless once the first case of the new coronavirus was confirmed. The patient was a young man, around his thirties, who had just returned from a business trip to the Sand Country. The protocols were followed and he was isolated from the rest of the society, but by the time the sanitary agents had finished talking to his neighbours, the second case was confirmed, and eventually, the third, fourth, tenth and the hundredth. The numbers wouldn’t stop as countless new cases were popping up every day, and it was possible to see the silent fear that had taken over the city.

At first, the infection was nothing but a faraway reality to most citizens. It was just something people were talking about on the news and no one really felt like it had anything to do with them. They thought it would never happen to them. However, the virus got closer, to the point where everyone knew of someone who tested positive. Most stories, sure, were about asymptomatic people who had nothing more than a headache, but whenever those stories escalated— whenever someone they knew ended up unconscious and with a tube down their throat— that was when people got really afraid.

In every district, rough metal doors now decorated the streets, and instead of colourful shop windows inviting the costumers to come inside, only closed signs and motivating messages could be seen. “It will pass”, “we will get through this”, “stay inside” and so many others that would only be seen by those who had a good reason to leave the safety of their houses. Those messages— and so many other entertaining initiatives suggested by digital influencers and famous artists—, for sure, were very uplifting at the beginning of the whole pandemic, when most people actually believed everything would be solved in a week or two.

Up until then, the COVID-19 was nothing but a global adventure for those who weren’t sick— or at least didn’t know they were—and it would be over before anyone got the chance to even become bored. It would be a chance to take a break from everything and sleep until noon for a couple of days before life returned to normal.

'Soon it would all be over', they said, and people were truly satisfied with just that.

'Soon'.

But as the days went by and the situation started to go south, people realized that their precious ‘soon’ would take longer than any of them had initially planned. 

By the end of March, people weren’t as excited as they used to be, and now, as everyone watched as Spring went by through closed windows, hope was no longer a familiar feeling and fear had invaded most of the residences around the city. The citizens had turned pessimistic regarding the uncertain future, and some of them were even going through the 7 stages of grief as they mourned their long-lost life.

Times were tough. For those who could stay at home and for those who couldn’t but forced themselves to, times were really tough. 

Even for those who don’t usually go out that much, staying stuck inside 4 walls was proving itself to be quite the challenge. Staring at the same things and at the same people— if there even were people— was starting to take its toll on everyone, and there were days when it was just too much. Sure, every case was a case and people reacted differently to the current situation, but eventually, everyone was due to get sick of that life.

And Uchiha Sasuke was no exception. 

After his girlfriend kicked him out in order to protect him, the raven haired boy ended up staying with his best friend. For they were always together, Naruto’s guest-room was basically the Uchiha's spare room, and it’s proven itself quite useful whenever he and the pinkette engaged in one of their lover’s spat. 

They didn’t fight much, but when they did—well— it was better to stay out of it.

Still, even if he didn’t have to spend two months sleeping on a couch, to say sharing the apartment with the blonde was easy would be a huge lie. They’re too different, both of them. Though best friends since they were in their dippers, both Sasuke and Naruto have very strong personalities and it doesn’t take much for them to start a fight. They’re stubborn, hot-headed and neither of them would even dream about admitting to be mistaken. In other words, chances were that they would end up killing each other before the end of the quarantine.

The Uchiha needed space. He needed a full day without listening to that annoying ‘dattebayo!’ or seeing those ramen cups pilling up all over the sink. The blonde wouldn’t move a finger to help with the chores, and if it depended on him, the trash would stay there until it decomposed itself. Naruto is a slob and living with him has made Sasuke reconsider his early life choices. 

How could someone who leaves his unwashed clothes all around the place be his best friend? 

Their friendship, as the Uchiha concluded, was not meant to be put to test like that. They should have never been forced to share the same roof for more than 7 days and the pandemic was nowhere near its end.

There was no way both of them would survive another month together. They had to do something. They had to talk things through and establish some rules in order to make that whole experience less traumatic. Sasuke was more than aware of that, but there was just no way he would be the first to suggest anything, no.

Naruto would have to grow up and admit to be a failure as a productive member of the society.

And until that happened, the only thing the raven haired boy could do was sulk. Sulk and take long showers so he could completely ignore Naruto’s existence for a while.

Yes, those long showers were probably the one thing keeping the Uchiha from murdering his best friend, and right now, he was really glad to be taking one. The warm water running down his skin, soothing his muscles and taking his mind away from the messy apartment. During his showers, he could, for once, think clearly about what was happening in the world, and most importantly, what was probably happening to his girlfriend.

What could she be doing at that moment? Was the hospital already crowded? Was she okay?

Though they face-timed every day, it still wasn’t enough for him to ask all the questions that haunted his dreams and to just talk about nothing in order to make up for the lost time. Day after day, whenever her pretty face showed up on his computer screen, Sasuke could feel a heavy weight being lifted from his chest. Normally, she would be smiling and her bright, emerald eyes would shine brighter whenever he said anything about wanting to kill Naruto in his sleep. 

After talking about their respective days, he would ask her if she was eating and sleeping properly, and even if she would always try to change the subject at that point, he would glare at her until she talked so he could scold her for being irresponsible. He would, then, ask her if she needed anything and tell her to go get some rest before the call ended. They never parted with a ‘goodbye’, choosing, instead, to say ‘I'll see you soon”. Even though they had never really talked about the reason behind that choice of words, through the silent glances exchanged by their eyes, it was possible to tell they both knew it.

Oh, they knew it too well. For she is a front-liner and he is no fool, they knew better than to just believe things would be solved in a matter of days. It would be long until they could finally meet face to face again— until they could feel their hands brushing against one another and the scent of their bodies pressed tight— so they figured that, in the midst of the chaos that was now wiping the world, they could allow themselves to be fooled by a white lie. 

Their soon would come. When, they didn’t know, but it would come before either of them could say goodbye.

Though the hot water was doing wonders to both his body and soul, the Uchiha knew he couldn't stay there forever. After releasing a defeated sigh, he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. Water was still dripping from his hair as he dried his body, and the steam surrounding him clouded the mirror and every glassy object inside the bathroom. Apparently, he had spent too much time in there this time, he thought, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He ran his fingers through his soaking, dark locks, ruffling them a bit as to prevent them from sticking to his face. He took a deep breath, then, and finally decided to leave his private, sacred shrine.

With no rush or excitement, the door finally opened and all the steam came out with him. The towel was still wrapped around his hips, and silently, the Uchiha started to make his way towards the bedroom. The apartment was quiet, at first, and he wondered if the Uzumaki went to the convenience store in order to buy more of that industrialized ramen he loves so much. Even if both him and Sakura were always telling him that he shouldn’t leave the house unless it was very important, Naruto apparently considered ramen a vital necessity.

He really is an idiot, Sasuke thought, as he was getting closer to his room. His hand was about to reach out for the doorknob, but before he could turn it—

“Ha! You look really funny like that-ttebayo! Have you ever worn so many clothes? And can’t you take some of them off?”

The Uchiha stopped. It was Naruto’s voice, and apparently, he was talking to someone. Dark eyes widened for an instance when he realized that it was coming from inside of his room, and before he could act on that, Sasuke allowed his best-friend the benefit of doubt regarding his reasons to be there.

Could the dobe be having a private conversation with someone? Was it work related or could he be chatting with a girl? That idiot should better not be doing anything disgusting or—

“Okay, I see that you have to go now. As soon as he leaves his beauty shower, I’ll let Teme know you called. Bye-bye, Sakura-chan!”

Sakura, Sasuke thought, as his heart skipped a beat. Why was she calling at such hour? It hadn’t even been 5 hours since her last shift had ended, so what was she doing awake at that moment? There was something wrong, he thought. He really should ask her and—

Shit.

His mouth went agape as soon as he remembered Naruto’s ‘bye-bye’ and before he could even think, the door was already flying open.

“Oi, Naruto, don’t hang up—“

“Ah!” Naruto screamed, blue eyes widening as he rolled over the bed and fell on the floor. Luckily, he was wearing wireless earphones, so the computer— Sasuke’s computer— didn’t share the blonde’s fate. 

“Tch.” Sasuke scoffed, clearly not caring if Naruto was fine or not. He walked pass the blonde in order to reach his computer, but his efforts proved useless for the call had already ended. The Uchiha closed his eyes in annoyance, cursing himself— and Naruto— for not being able to talk to the pinkette. For a couple of seconds, he kept staring at his computer screen, wondering if he should call her back or not.

What if it was an emergency? No, Naruto wouldn’t have been so calm if that had been the case. Maybe she just needed something from him? But that could wait until after she had slept. Thanks to his current state of overprotection towards her, his mind was playing tricks on him and nothing seemed logic.

What could she possibly want from him? And why wasn’t she calling from her usual ID? Could it be that she had been robbed or—

“Ouch!” The blonde said, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor. “Why the hell did you scare me like that, teme!? That hurt-ttebayo!”

“Stop whining like a child, Naruto. Why the hell didn't you tell me Sakura was calling?”

“Because you were taking your precious shower.”

“So what?”

“Last time I interrupted your you-time, you scolded me for hours and told me never to do that again!”

“But this was Sakura calling. It was important!”

“So was that documentary about koalas!”

“You are an idiot, Naruto!” The Uchiha sighed, walking towards the desk near his bed to reach out for his phone. He was clearly aware that trying to discuss that matter with the blonde would lead to nothing, so he decided to just skip all that nonsense. “I'm just gonna call Sakura and ask her myself.”

“Don’t sweat it. She won’t answer you-ttebayo.”

“And why not?”

“Because she’s finally opened her eyes to see the big jerk you are.”

“Naruto!”

He giggled. It was always too easy. "She's busy right now.”

“Busy?” He lifted his brows in confusion, checking the hour on his phone just to make sure. “Why is she busy right now? She said she wasn’t be going back to the hospital until later tonight.”

“Yeah…about that” Naruto started, scratching his cheek with one finger. “She said there was a problem at the hospital and she had to go cover for someone who tested positive.”

“What? Did she have to go now?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “In fact, she even called from the hospital computer. I barely recognized her with all of those masks and glasses. I took a screen shot of her for future blackmail-ttebayo!”

“Fuck.” He cursed, closing his eyes in pure annoyance and using his fingers to massage his temples. Apart from the dobe’s stupid idea of fun, knowing his girlfriend was already back in the hospital made his heart feel heavier inside his chest.

If they were asking her to get back and cover for someone, Sasuke figured things were probably getting worse out there. It was expected for some health professionals— if not most of them— to be contaminated, but seeing a person who’s always working so close to other various diseases being defeated by this virus was never really easy. In fact, whenever that happened, the entire world was silenced.

Another soldier was down. Another health worker, just like Sakura, who would be lucky enough if they were able to stay home and healthy for 14 days.

Knowing things like that were happening so close to his girlfriend and knowing she would be the one suffering the consequences left him even more worried. She was probably still tired from the previous night, and knowing her like he does, Sasuke was sure she wasn’t even aware of that. Haruno Sakura is a workaholic, has always been. She loves her job and she’s one hell of a good doctor, but all that love and dedication has taken its toll on her life many times before.

For working has become her coping mechanism, Sakura tended to forget about herself whenever the hospital demanded more from her, and now, during the pandemic, things were no different. In fact, they were getting worse and worse by the day, and even if Sasuke called her every day to guarantee she was doing well, it was not the same as when he could actually be there.

She was ignoring herself, he knew. On March 28th, when they called her in order to wish her a happy birthday, the pinkette didn’t even know what day it was. He had scolded her for that, sure, but he knew it was useless. She was going to keep working herself to the bones, and the only thing he could do was face-time her during dinner time.

Really helpful, he thought, bitterly. Still, it was better than nothing. Every victory against workaholic Sakura was already a great victory, and considering the current scenario, it was all he could do.

Almost all.

“Did she say anything else, Dobe?” He asked, his voice filled with displeasure. 

“Oh, right!” He nodded, eagerly. “She also asked you to order her some groceries online since she won’t have time to go to the supermarket herself.”

“Hn.” The Uchiha started, sitting on his bed and getting his laptop in order to access the website of her usual grocery store. Since the beginning of the pandemic, that small shop near her apartment has developed a delivery service for usual customers, and they were even making a special offer for people who were still out there. It was really nice to see so many people looking out for each other, and on behalf of his girlfriend, he could only thank those kinds of initiatives.

“Oh! And she also said not to pay for her. She told you to use her credit-card or else she will be pissed like last time-ttebayo!”

“Tch. That audio she sent me was unnecessary.”

“I thought it was very hilarious.”

“Shut up.” Sasuke pouted, his eyes staring at the screen and choosing the items. 

“Heh” Naruto smirked, crawling so he could approach the Uchiha. "What are you gonna buy her, Teme?”

“The essential, of course.”

“Essential?!” The blonde repeated, a bit exasperatedly. “Jeez, teme! Let me see it.” The blonde stated, reaching for Sasuke’s computer in order to see what he was adding to the cart.

“Oi, knock it off!”

“Onions, tomatoes, vegetables, raw meat… You really don’t know how to buy food, bastard.”

“What? I don’t see what’s the matter with these things. It’s what I usually buy for us. It’s enough to prepare good and healthy meals.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they are, but you’re forgetting something very important.”

“Oh, really? And what is it?”

“We have time to cook. And when I say we, I mean you.” He started, with a grin on his face. “She probably gets home exhausted most of the days and she definitely doesn't have enough energy to cook, so you have to buy something easy to prepare."

“Are you saying we should buy her a stock of frozen food and instant ramen; and ignore all the rest?” He said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. 

“Well, not a stock, but she definitely needs some frozen food and some bowls of instant ramen."

“She needs to eat properly, dumbass!”

“She needs to eat, bastard!” the blonde started, and even if the tone of his voice didn’t change much, somehow, the Uchiha could see the concern hidden in his words. Though he knew he wasn’t the only one worried about Sakura’s safety, sometimes, he tended to forget Naruto could also be a decent person in times of need. “Once she has enough energy and time to prepare decent meals, then we will worry about the properly part.”

“Hn.” Sasuke closed his eyes for a second before giving the blonde his usual stoic face. “I’m gonna put on some clothes. Don’t spend too much on this crap or else she will be mad and I will blame you.”

“Yosh!” A smile showed up on the Uzumaki’s face as he scrolled around the shop’s website. After spending some time isolated and helping his older neighbours with the groceries, Naruto knew exactly what he should buy for his girl-best-friend and he knew she would be thankful for a bowl of ramen whenever she got home and didn’t feel like cooking.

And so, even if leaving Naruto unsupervised around his things was quite a risky decision, Sasuke put on his clothes and left the room. He had his phone with him, and as soon as the blonde said he was finished, the Uchiha sent his girlfriend a message.

‘Groceries Ordered. Call me when you get home.’

After sending it, his dark eyes kept staring at her picture, a longing feeling taking over his heart. Sasuke remembered when she took that picture of herself, and mostly, he remembered how happy they all were while having dinner at Naruto’s favourite restaurant. It was just the three of them for the night, and even if he normally hates crowded places, for the first time, he hadn’t been bothered by the people around them. They were all laughing and her smile that night was brighter than all the lights of Konoha.

Her smile…

At that moment, in the middle of that mess, he couldn’t really recall when was the last time she truly smiled. In a matter of weeks, not only the pinkette, but all of them were deprived of reasons to be truly happy. They were worried, scared and too immersed in this pandemic to even think about happy.

Happy would happen after life got back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as it could get.

Without noticing, he took a deep breath, locking his phone screen and heading towards the kitchen so he could start preparing lunch. Waiting for a fast reply would be useless, he knew. Sakura barely had time to breath, let alone text someone; and using her phone at the hospital was yet another risk of taking the virus home. She would answer him when and if she could. And until then, he would do what he had to do.

As a normal citizen, he would continue to do his part. 

–––––––––––––––––––

Her reply didn’t arrive until later that day.

The clock was already striking past 11pm and the blonde had long succumbed to his dreams. The midnight edition of the national news was about to start, and if the Uchiha had to be honest, he didn’t even know why he had left the tv on the news channel in the first place. The stories were all the same, the cases were growing and people were being hospitalized. They were all the same— and he knew it— but he had decided to leave that on anyway, and right now, after his phone had buzzed inside his pocket, he realized he had probably drifted off at some point.

His eyes blinked slowly as they adjusted to the bright screen, and though he had just woken up from a nap, all of the sleepiness had disappeared as soon as he read the notification with her name. 

At last, he thought.

He used his fingerprint to unlock his phone and slowly, he stood up from the couch. He turned off the tv, and as he had started his way towards his room, he read the message she had just sent him.

‘I'm home. R u still up?’

‘Yeah' He answered, shortly, opening the door.

‘How about Naruto?’

‘Fast asleep.’

‘Ok. Is it too late for me to call you?’

Tch. Silly girl, he thought, clearly not even considering her concern. ’Turning on my computer. I’ll call you in a minute.’

‘Ok.’

While his computer loaded, the Uchiha made sure to connect his ear pods so they could have a private conversation. Though he was glad to know she was already home and answering his texts, he couldn’t seem to ignore that odd feeling growing inside his guts. He tried to shake it off while clicking the face-time icon, but it was of no use.

Maybe, he thought, it had something to do with the fact that he had just woken up. Maybe he was still a bit sleepy or, maybe, it was just a side effect from the pandemic playing tricks on him.

Yes, he was definitely overreacting, he concluded, as his ears were filled with those continuous beeps. Sakura was fine. She was certainly—

Oh, fuck.

As her image finally showed up on his computer screen, his eyes widened in pure shock and he was sure his sudden reaction didn't go unnoticed by his girlfriend. His lips slightly parted and he could feel his heart sinking inside his chest. Her face was red— swollen, even— and her eyes were bloodshot, emptied of any glimpse of light. Red, prominent lines were drawn across her face, going from the bridge of her nose and down until her chin, as they perfectly delineated the marks of the masks she had to wear during the whole day. Her lips were pale, filled with cracks, and though there were no tears at that moment, he could tell they were brimming her eyes.

The girl with the prettiest of the smiles and the brightest of the eyes was, at that moment, in the brink of a breakdown. She was biting her lower lip as if to hold back more tears and he could see the way her eyes fidgeted from the screen.

It was as if she couldn’t look him in the eyes, as if she was ashamed, guilty or even both. She looked so frail and uncharacteristic that, for a split of second, it felt as if that girl— that destroyed image that was meant to be Haruno Sakura— wasn’t her at all. He had never seen her like that, not even on her worst days. 

Sakura…What on earth had happened to her? 

After a couple of seconds spent in a deafening silence, the Uchiha bit the insides of his cheeks, forcing himself to break that state of pure horror. He blinked a couple of times, and then— only then— he was able to let his voice out. “What happened?”

No reply. Her lips started to tremble as she looked away from the computer, trying her best to recompose herself.

“Sakura.” He pressed. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh, my, I can’t do this.” She looked at the screen, her body language growing anxious by the second, her hands reaching for the mousepad. “I-I knew I shouldn’t have called you, I’m sorry. Everything is fine. Go back to sleep.”

“What!? No! You’re clearly not fine. Don’t hang up!”

“I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun, I—“

“If you do, I’ll take my car and drive to your place right now, Sakura! Don’t hang up.” He said, firmly, and thankfully, that made her stop.

“I-I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Tch, don’t be stupid. I told you to call me if anything happened.” His voice held somewhat of a rough tone, and for a second, he could see that roughness had managed to make her listen to him. He took a deep breath, then, and after what felt like an eternal pause, Sasuke decided to be the one to start the conversation again. “First of all, just answer me this…Are you safe?”

She nodded, slowly, as if her head felt too heavy above her shoulders. “Yeah.” Her voice came out as a whisper, and though it was too fast, it just felt too much. It felt troubled, and if he dared say, ashamed, as if her safety was something unfair. Condemnable, even.

“Talk to me, Sakura.” His voice got lower, though anger still boiled inside his veins. Sasuke knew better than to let those emotions get the best of him, but he couldn’t help but what to blame someone— the whole world, for all he cared— for the pinkette’s current state. She was falling apart, and though he could see her in a screen less than 30 centimetres away from him, it pained him to know she was miles away from his reach.

Her eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, it was as if she had gathered some courage to finally put her feelings into audible words. She breathed in and out, but still not really looking into the webcam of her computer. “We’ve registered the first deaths today.” She started, her voice was rough, and though she was trying to sound professional— one of her many coping techniques— her emotions were taking the best of her.  “And though it’s never easy to lose a patient, this time…Geez, It was so much worse.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, and though he had listened to many of her hospital stories before, this one felt different. It felt heavier, macabre. “How worse?”

“We were making the rounds around the ICU when this guy, around his 70s, started calling our names. He sounded breathless and his oxygen levels started to drop so fast…” She bit her lip, her hand reaching out to her chest, clinging to her shirt. “He had been stable for three days already. He was making jokes and we even helped him call his wife yesterday because we were going to send him to a normal room, Sasuke-kun…But then, he suddenly couldn’t breath and—“ She paused, trying to find the next words as a tear slipped from her right eye. “—and when I saw it, my colleague was already intubating him and I was doing compressions because his heart had stopped, just like that.”

He could hear the sound of her exasperated breath, and for he knew she was still not done yet, Sasuke remained silent, giving her time to recollect her thoughts. There was still so much she had to let out. So much she had bottled up inside her chest and was now getting the best of her.

Such a strong woman. He wondered how much she had endured until it got that bad.

A muffled sob escaped her lips, and he knew she was ready— or anything remotely close to that— to continue her narrative. “He didn’t make it…We attested his death after half an hour or so, and now I remember looking at the people around me and we were just so…so taken back, you know? We weren’t expecting that outcome from that man, no. He was—“ Another tear slipped, and her voice cracked. “He was fine. He was recovering and he told his wife he was gonna go home. God, she cried so much on the phone when I told her.”

“Oh, Sakura…”

“But that was not all.” She swallowed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Right after the impact of his death, a nurse called from the hallway, saying there was another patient in need of immediate assistance and… And we just left him there and it was as if we were relieving that whole thing, but with a woman around her 50s, instead.”

“And what happened to her?” He asked, lowly, though he was already sure of what her answer would be.

“We lost her, too.” She closed her eyes, dropping her head in mild despair. When she lifted it back, more tears were streaming down her face. “I knew we would not be able to save everyone from this virus and I knew there would be deaths, eventually, but…But I never thought we wouldn’t have time to mourn each of them. I thought we would have had time to think and to pay our respects before we were summoned again.” She gritted her teeth, anger now visibly spread across her exhausted featured. “Sasuke-kun, I thought things were going to be more humane even with those who died, but I was wrong! Now, they’re just numbers and there will be more like them soon. And their deaths will be on us!”

“Don’t even go there. It was not your fault and—“

“Yes, it was! We couldn’t save them, Sasuke-kun! And worse, we’re probably the ones spreading this crap out there! When we come home and when we go check other patients…This is on us."

“You’re wrong!”

“No, I’m not! People are scared of us, Sasuke-kun!!”

“What!? Who the hell would be stupid enough to be scared of you!?”

A smile filled with scorn and mockery took over her lips as she lifted her right hand. She was holding a white, small paper that looked like a post it, and as she turned it to the webcam, Sasuke just couldn’t believe what he was reading.

‘You’re gonna kill us all! Get out!’

His lips went agape as his mind tried to find the right words to describe what he was feeling. Seriously, how could people be so low? How could they be so cruel and insensitive towards another human-being who was just going home? These people really are beyond any salvation, he thought.

“I’ve found this note on my door when I got home today… And even if I don’t know whose handwriting is this, most of my neighbours are averting their eyes whenever I see them from afar… So, yeah, I guess I’m not imagining stuff."

“Sakura, you can’t let it get to you. These people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Yes, they do, Sasuke-kun.” She spoke, a little louder now. “They’re trying to protect themselves by staying at home and I’m the one bringing the virus to them! They will get sick, and then…And then they will be just number, too.”

Bitter tears were now flowing down her face and he knew she had finally let go of the very last string that held back her emotions and her anxieties. She was sobbing furiously, now, and at that moment, he really hated himself for not being there with her. Though he understood everything and was even tired of hearing her voice lecturing him about staying away, fuck, he just wanted to stomp out of the apartment and go to her. There wasn’t much he could do, for he couldn’t really give her the answer she wanted, but watching from afar as she crumbled apart was just too painful.

It wasn’t fair. That virus wasn’t fair to its victims and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to the front-liners who had to see such horrors repeating themselves day after day. The lack of a cure, the pressure to save lives and the uncertainty of the days that were to come. Just like her, many health workers were feeling powerless and lost in the middle of that chaos, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. In fact, even though people on Tv were showing their gratitude towards those who couldn’t stop working, reality showed how fear corrupted the human heart to the point where they didn’t think twice before being assholes in order to try to protect themselves. 

Those were certainly rough times, where physical contact was banned, certainties were non-existent and there was no guarantee that anyone would find a solution before the next tragedy occurred.

The world was hurting. People were hurting.

But more importantly, for him, his girlfriend was hurting. And even if his heart was breaking for her, he knew he had to say something— anything— to help her get back on her feet. That was why she called, after all. She wanted his help since she was clearly not being able to manage it on her own. He had to help her. He had to be strong for both of them so she could once more be strong for those out there.

For she’s a practical and strong-willed woman, the Uchiha knew better than anyone that simple and heart-warming words would be of no use in order to calm her down, no. He would have to appeal to her good sense and her logical side. He had to remind her that, even if she was losing the battle, she was also the only one between them who stood a chance to win.

“Sakura.” He spoke, sounding firm so she could look at him. Her face had turned even redder due to the tears, and for an instance, he swore he saw her younger version who used to cry whenever the other kids were mean to her. He really had to bring her back. “What are you going to do now?”

“…What?”

“I've asked you, what are you going to do now?”

“I-I don’t know, I—“

"Are you going to give up?”

“Give up? No, I—“

"No doctor is forced to work during a pandemic if they don’t want to. You can quit, spend 14 days without leaving your apartment and then you can run back to your parents’. That’s an option.”

“Run back to my parents?” She asked, and the indignation behind her words gave him a certain hope that he was following the right direction.

“Yes. To be honest, I would feel quite better if you did it. Knowing you would be safe would spare me a lot of negative thoughts. We could even be together. That would be a good option, right?”

Through the cameras of their computers, they stared into each other’s eyes, and he made sure not to let his serious expression melt into a soft one. Dark eyes clashed against emerald ones, taunting them and daring the girl to take a stand. He was offering her a way out of that whole thing. He was showing her that there was another option if she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

Sakura could always give up and he had to make that option clear for her.

Clear enough so she could take the next step.

“Fuck you, Sasuke.”

Bingo.

Her eyes, though still red and a bit lifeless, were looking at him with a condemning stare. Though she had been looking like a child for the past hour or so, now he could finally see the traces of the mature woman she is. And even if it was still not enough to consider his job done, Sasuke could now hold onto something in order to bring her back.

“What? I’m just giving you an option.”

“No, you’re not.” She scoffed. “You know exactly what you’re doing, you jerk. You’re giving me a stupid option we both know I would never take just so you can make me feel less shitty.”

“Well…is it working?”

“…Maybe.” She said, softly, the tears now slowing down. “What will you do now?”

“Me? Hn, I should be the one saying this, don’t you think?” He looked at her with warmth in his eyes and he hoped she could feel it. “What are you going to do now, doctor?”

At first, she just stared at the screen, but slowly, her head started to move until she was nodding it up and down. Tears were still coming and her lips were still trembling, but she didn’t look that desperate or broken anymore, no. Sakura was slowly gathering her pieces, and he felt more relieved to see her like that. The pinkette took a deep breath, then, and he knew at that moment she had finally made up her mind. 

“Probably something stupid.” Her voice came out, softly and unsure.

'Now that’s the Sakura I know.’

“I'm going back.” She continued, lowly at first, as if to taste the sound of her words as they were thrown into the universe. “Shannarou, I’m going back to that hellhole because that’s the only place in the middle of this mess that makes me feel slightly better with myself. I’m going back because that’s my job.” Her voice came out with all the confidence he knew she would be able to muster that night, and he figured that was their small victory of the day. She didn’t look that scared anymore, and perhaps, she was getting ready to move on for the night.

“Tch, there’s something definitely wrong with you, Sakura.”

“Yeah…I guess there is.” She said, softly, wiping the last tears that were falling from her eyes. “I guess not even a pandemic will keep me from working too much.”

“You're probably right, but…” He offered her a comforting smile, looking away from the webcam for a second before returning his attention back to her eyes. “I'm proud of you.”

Judging by the way her emerald eyes widened, it was possible to say his words caught her by surprise. Apparently, tears started to pool around her eyes once more, but she stopped them before they could fall. Her lips slightly curled up at that, as in a shy reaction, and even if he normally wouldn’t have said that, well, he figured she was in need of those words.

“Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I don’t know what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you.”

“Hn, that’s easy, you would’ve been stubborn like always. And though I��m sure you would’ve figured out what to do on your own, it might have taken you a little longer to reach that conclusion.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She started, tugging a strand of her pink hair behind her ear. “Damn it, maybe I really do need to start listening to you.”

“Better late than ever.”

Better late than ever, indeed. Slowly, she was coming to her senses and he knew there was nothing left for him to do. From that moment on, it was up to her, and more than anyone, he knew she would pull through it.

“Yeah…”

“Oh, and now that you’ve mentioned it, have you eaten anything already?”

“I guess not.” She bit her lip, her demeanor clearly showing she hadn’t even considered that until that moment.

“Tch, you’re worse than Naruto. Go eat something, will you? You need to refill your energies."

“Fine.” Sakura said, taking her laptop in hands as she started walking down her hallway and towards the kitchen. 

“Do I want to know when was the last time you ate?”

“Probably not.”

“Tch.”

She placed the device on her kitchen island and turned around to open her cabinet to grab a pan. “Come on, you’re the chef here…What can I do that is easy and good enough for your standards?”

At that moment, though he knew she was clearly teasing him, the Uchiha couldn’t help but remember the Dobe’s words earlier that day. And though he would normally not care about those things, he figured he could make an exception. It had been a rough night, after all.

“Do you have instant ramen?”

“Instant ramen?” She asked, confused. “Are you really suggesting that?”

“Aah.” He nodded, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. “I'm getting hungry, too and I think there’s still one bowl left. What do you say?”

Her face was a bit surprised, at first, but eventually, her expression changed and a soft, grateful smile took over her lips. In a swift move, she put back the pan and got herself a bowl of instant ramen. “Instant ramen it is, then.”

“Hn, I’ll go get one for me, too.”

“Okay…” She began, and he watched as she started to prepare the noodles. He was making his way to the kitchen with his laptop in hands, and it didn’t take much before they were both waiting for the water to boil. “Now we just wait, right?”

“I guess…Naruto is the expert here.”

“He certainly is.” She agreed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. Her eyes were half closed, her head tilting a bit to the side. “Sasuke-kun…?”

“Uh? What is it?”

“I know it’s late and you must be tired, but…Can you talk to me for a bit longer? Just tell me about your day, I don't know.”

Her voice was soft at that moment, and he noticed the way she was genuinely curious about his day. Though she was still far from normal, Sasuke figured that was the closest to normal she would get in a situation like that. For the first time during the quarantine, he saw her, not as a doctor working bravely on the front lines, but as a young woman who had the right to feel insecure and scared.

They were all scared, after all. Why couldn’t she be, too, right? Just like everyone else, Sakura had the right to feel everything, and sometimes, feeling came with an overwhelming price. It hurt, it made her cry and doubt herself, but mostly, it made grow. As a woman and as a doctor, Haruno Sakura was growing and blooming like the flower she is.

For the better or the worse, that was how things were now.

And no matter what the future had in stock, they were going to face it together. Even if they were separated because of the virus, their hearts would be connected, always. 

“Of course.”

“Good.” She smiled, weakly, and at that moment, they knew that, in the middle of that mess, they could finally allow themselves to enjoy some good, instant ramen for dinner.

––––––

a/n: Okay, so… was it too much? From the beginning, I had this angst prepared for this story, and believe it or not, most of Sakura’s lines were based on real conversations shared by doctors. The note, too, was very real. It happened to a health worker here in my country and it just broke my heart when she told that to the press. Times are really weird right now, and it’s ok to be scared, but we can’t turn against each other! We need to spread love and empathy, not the other way around. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m always here! I’m a bit of a mess and I take a long time to answer, but believe me, I AM HERE! Anyway, thanks for reading it! Hope you’ve enjoyed it! Stay safe and stay inside!

[phoenixrisesoncemore]

🌺💘🌷 get to know your mutuals ! when you get this, it 🌺🌺💘🌷means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know. they can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. when you’re done, send this to 10 people you want to get to know better ! 🌷💘🌺

Thank you for the ask @lurkingscientist 😊. Hmmm, let’s see. I have no idea if my followers want to know any of this, but these are the 5 most interesting things off the top of my head.

1. My favorite color is red—a very specific red. It’s the red that is the color of the amulet in Don Bluth’s Secret of NIMH. Prior to that (as in like, before I was 5 years old) my favorite color was sapphire blue or the blue color of deep cobolt glass when you hold it up to the light. I’m also quite the lover of true emerald green. If you’re noticing a gemstone theme here you’re not wrong.

2. The first thing I wanted to be when I grew up was a veterinarian, but at some point I realized that veterinarians have to endure repeated exposure to animals who were suffering, and that ended that dream very quickly. Then the dinosaur craze hit and I wanted to be a paleontologist. Then it was geneticist—I was fascinated by Gregor Mendel and his peas. Then I spent a summer reading a bunch of popular science texts about physics, astronomy, and cosmology and decided I was going to be a cosmologist. But no, I needed something creative, something where I could use art to change the world (ah, the sweet, idealistic naïveté of the tweens and teens). So I switched tracks completely and decided fantasy novelist was my calling. When I eventually realized words weren’t the tools I was best with, but that I still wanted to tell stories, I switched to wanting to be a film director. I had plans to either go to UCLA or Northwestern and study film, but I somehow fell into the theatre arts and art and design department at an in-state uni after taking some classes there while in HS. I was an actor for a while, and then a sculptor, then a costume designer, then a set designer. I even spent some time learning about databases and information systems and tried to design my own content management system for the web using ASP.NET back before such things were common (I did not succeed). But, as it turns out, life is funny, and I am, currently, none of those things in a professional capacity.

3. I was 11 when Batman Returns came out; I saw it that summer and Michelle Pfieffer’s Catwoman instantly became my whole fannish world. Naturally I wanted to be her for Halloween (I’ll get back to Halloween below), and that meant I had to be able to use a whip. You know, for authenticity’s sake. The plan to have and know how to use a real whip didn’t work out in time for Halloween that year, but the next summer—while browsing around the gift shop at the horse riding paddock at a state nature preserve—my eyes fell on one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen: a real, 8 ft long, rawhide bullwhip. I spent the next 3 years teaching myself to crack that whip in the alleyway beside our house in small town Midwestern America. Cue pearl-clutching, lots of nasty rumors about me and my family, and neighborhood kids being told they could no longer associate with me. There was no internet and it wasn’t like videos on how to crack a whip were easy to find. So I just watched her scenes in the film over and over, trying to copy her movements and understand how the whip was working. I eventually moved up to a new 10 ft whip with a longer, lighter handle. With the exception of the crack in the GIF above, I eventually taught myself how to do all of them.

4. I’ve always had very odd and vivid dreams that are very unlike the dreams described to me by most people. They tend to be extremely abstract and fantastical, occurring in illogical spaces that have more in common with Escher than the real world. The most common element in them is the labyrinth, often seeming something like a house with endless rooms opening in strange patterns off of each other and stairways winding everywhere, or vast shopping malls with odd architecture. I usually spend the dream traversing these labyrinths, sometimes with an actual goal, but more often simply out of curiosity. Occasionally these dreams are nightmares, but more often than not they are somehow deeply comforting. The use of SSRIs to control my depression has, alas, made them less frequent and less vivid (if there’s any downside to these medications for me, it’s that). In real life, this fascination and adoration of spaces expresses itself in a love for museums (museums themselves often even more than the pieces in them), gardens, installation sculpture, and architecture in general. My undergrad thesis involved creating a labyrinth out of copper pipe and muslin (see model and full scale sculpture above) that expressed something of the spaces that haunted my dreams.

5. When I was a kid and teen, my mom (who at one time had dreamed about being a film art director) and I used to go to great lengths to decorate our home for Halloween. What started as a few figures stuffed with newspaper set on the old Victorian porch turned into an entire cast of classic movie monsters, witches, a glass coffin, a creepy undead traveling salesman, a faux pipe organ, and cemetery. Keep in mind, this was both in the 90s in a small town in the midwestern US where the celebration of Halloween was still often believed to be a Satanic act and also well before the heavy commercialization of Halloween decorations via big box stores and online vendors, so most of this was stuff we made ourselves. Despite the whispers and accusations it lead to, these remain some of the best days in my life.

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Fifth Time’s A Charm (Phantom of the Opera x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Erik Destler (Phantom of the Opera) x Reader

Word Count: 2246

Warnings: Kinda angst? Attempted murder, like 1 curse word

Request: Do you still do Phantom of the Opera X reader? If you do can please one with the Phantom X reader, where its 4 times where they almost kiss and 1 time that they do kiss. Thanks so much! @clean-soap

A/N: I guess some of it is more pining for a kiss than almost kissing, but I hope you still enjoy! I know that this is long overdue!

1.

You finished your ballet routine to thunderous applause. Although it was merely a rehearsal, the rest of the dancers couldn’t help but applaud in awe at your solo performance. You had trained since you were very young, and you had grown into a talented and beautiful dancer. The male members of the ensemble tended to make some suggestive comments towards you, but you never paid them any mind. You looked around the opera house, seeing a mysterious figure lurking in box five. You strained your eyes to make out the figure, but he was gone as soon as you blinked. You had heard stories of the Opera Ghost, but you decided to disregard the figure as shadows playing with your mind. After all, the stories were likely all fabricated. 

In fact, the stories were very much real. Erik, better known to many as said Opera Ghost, had been watching you from his signature viewing box. Unbeknownst to you, he had been admiring you for some time. You were the best dancer he had ever seen, always moving exactly in time with a certain poise and grace he had never seen before. He only wished that box five was closer to the stage so he could see you up close. You lips looked soft, and he wanted to kiss them every time he looked upon your face. But he knew that was not the life set out for him. He was hideous, and he would never dare to show himself to you. For now he would have to be happy with watching you from afar. That is, until you moved dressing rooms.

2.

With an older member of the ensemble leaving, you were able to move up and get a larger dressing room. You were thankful for the extra room, as well as the large mirror placed on the wall. The lighting was also much better, allowing you to do your makeup much more precisely. To you, the room was everything you wanted and more. To Erik, the room held everything he wanted. You.

You twirled around in your new room, reveling in the spaciousness. After practicing some choreography for the new ballet, you turned to the mirror. Only instead of seeing your own reflection, you saw another figure looming behind you. It was the figure of a man with dark hair, donned in a long black cape. The setting him most apart from many others was the white mask he wore, a mask that covered half of his face. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t help but lean towards the mirror. 

To your surprise, the glass was just as hard and cold as it had always been. When you looked up, the man had vanished. Despite his absence, you couldn’t help but continue to think of him. The memory of his eyes stayed burned into your mind. You imagined how his lips would feel on yours. You imagined what lie beneath that mask of his.

You quickly shook the thought, trying to focus back on your steps. At the same time, you felt a force inside you drawing you to this man. Begging you to kiss him.

3.

Within the next couple of weeks the opera house was lucky enough to get its hands on a young new dancer. She was up-and-coming, and at first you had tried to be nice to her. In your mind, the two of you were similar and that would make you good friends. In her mind, the similarities made you enemies.

With the lead in one of the ballet pieces spraining her ankle, a new solo was up for grabs. Many of the girls tried out, but everybody knew it was really only a competition between you and the new girl. You spun perfectly, every step in time with the beat. As you finished your audition the judges clapped, smiling at you. You knew that you had done a great job. Next, and last, was your so-called rival. She, too, spun in time with the beat. Every leap was picture-perfect. However, as she reached the final jump she faltered. She landed on the side of her foot and crashed to the ground. Immediately after standing up she pointed an accusatory finger.

“You!” She yelled, pointing at you. “You must have done something to the floor after you finished so I would mess up!”

You were appalled. You had done no such thing, and the judges backed you up. The “charges” were not investigated in the slightest, but the validity did not matter to this crazed dancer. She believed so highly in herself that she thought it impossible for her to make a mistake. Therefore, the blame fell on you.

“I’ll get you for this,” she said. Her icy tone and stoic eyes left fear rising in your heart.

Opening day of the new ballet, you were ready to perform. Your costume was elegant, a short red dress that hugged you in all the right places while still allowing you to move. Most of the show went off without a hitch, but as your solo arrived you began to feel uneasy. you had performed many solos before, but for some reason this one in particular was causing insurmountable dread in the pit of your stomach.

The beginning of your solo went fine, leaving the audience cheering and clapping as you gracefully made your way across the stage. However, you soon heard the gasps of the crowd and a heavy figure pushed you behind the curtains. You heard a set piece slam on the stage, and glancing out you saw that the backdrop had fallen. If you had not been shoved out of the way, it would have surely crushed you. You turned back to the figure that saved you, seeing the man from the mirror. You gasped quietly; this was the man you had been seeing in dreams and in the corner of your eye for weeks now. You couldn’t help but feel as if you were tied to him. Feeling his arms grip you tightly, you wanted to be even closer to him. You began to lean forward, fluttering your eyes shut to kiss him thank you. Then it all faded to black.

4.

You woke up to candlelight, hearing the soft splashing of water. You stood slowly, pushing past a light curtain to find the man who had saved you. He was hunched over an organ, playing a haunting melody.

“You play beautifully,” you say, making the man jump as he turns to face you.

“You’re awake,” he said, sending shivers up your spine. He sounded even better than you imagined.

“Yes, I am.” You replied, furrowing your brow. “But where am I exactly?” You stepped closer ti the man, not realizing the way that confusion etched itself onto his face. Why were you not scared? Why were you looking around in awe?

“Under the opera house,” the man responded.

“And who are you?” By this point you were standing right behind the man, close enough that you could reach out and touch him. “I would like to know the name of the man who saved my life.

“Erik,” he said. “Erik Destler. But many know me by another name. Opera Ghost.”

So the stories were real, only a man was behind them all. 

“Thank you, Erik.” You tell him, his name rolling easily off you tongue. He tried to ignore the way it felt to hear you say it.

“Do you play?” He asked, gesturing to the organ. 

“No,” you reply, “but I have always wanted to learn. Most of my time has been occupied by dancing, though.”

Erik scooted over, motioning to the space beside him as an invitation to sit. “Would you like me to show you? I’m sure the time spent not dancing will not do any harm. I have seen you dance, you are the best I have ever seen.” You blush at Erik’s words, turning away. If you hadn’t turned, you would have noticed the shocked expression on his face. Had he really made a beauty such as yourself blush?

“May I?” he asked, holding out his hands. You nodded slowly, letting him take your hands in his. His hands were rough, but his touch was gentle. He placed your fingers on the keys, his hands ghosting over the tops of yours. “It’s really rather simple, once you get the hang of it anyway,” he spoke, turning to face you. Only then did you realize how close you were. Your faces were mere inches apart. You felt as if you were a magnet, drawn ever closer to him. As you leaned in, he seemed to lean in as well. As you began to close your eyes he stood up, startling you. “Actually, perhaps we will resume this lesson later. I have some business to attend to.” He voiced, clearing his throat. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed as he walked away. Were you not good enough for him? What you did not know was that as soon as he rounded the corner he stopped, leaning against the wall. Tears collected in his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks. He knew that he could never be the man you wanted him to be. He was a monster, and you deserved much better than that. He knew better than to kiss you.

5.

After spending a couple days with Erik, you were growing impatient. Why would he bring you here if he was just going to sulk off every time you guys began to have an interaction with any depth? You were finally fed up, making your way to the organ where he was composing yet again. You always knew you could find him there.

“Erik,” you say, making him stop his work and turn to face you. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked, unmoving as you made your way to the bench where he was seated. You marched right over to him, looking down into his eyes. 

“Why did you bring me here?”

He knew this day would come. Eventually you would have enough of him. He would no longer be able to keep you satisfied. He sighed.

“It is of little importance now,” he answered as he stood up.

“Not to me!” You yelled, catching him off guard.

“What did you say?” He asked, almost threateningly. You felt a pang of fear shoot up your spine as he looked down on you, towering over you now that he had risen from his seat. Despite this, you held fast.

“Not to me,” you repeated. “I want to know why you brought me here after you saved my life.”

Erik sighed again, looking away from you. “Like I said already Y/N, it does not matter now why I brought you here. I know why you are asking me. You want to leave, you want me to take you home.” You furrowed your brow, cocking your head in confusion as you looked up at him.

“No,” you said, making him glance back down at you in surprise.

“No?” He repeated, not caring that his voice showed how astounded he was.

“No,” you affirmed. “I just want to know why you brought me here just to ignore me. I have tried to be kind to you. I have not said a word as you have blown me off, leaving as soon as we start to make conversation or get close. Whenever I am around you I feel this tugging inside of me, begging me to be closer to you. I know you feel it too, and yet every time I begin to act on that feeling you whisk yourself away.” You were furious and distraught all at the same time, tears threatening to flow from your eyes where they had gathered. “You assume that I want you to take me home, but you’re wrong. As cliche and cheesy as it sounds, this feels like home. You feel like home. It has only taken me a couple of days to realize that this is where I want to be. I miss dancing and performing terribly, but if we are where you say we are then certainly I should be able to continue performing while also staying down here.”

Finished with your rant you allowed a sob to escape your body. The sound made a twinge of pain course through Erik’s body. He had never wanted to hurt you.

All of the urges he has had since the first time he saw you bubbled up once again. Your words this is where I want to be echoed in his head on repeat, clouding his thoughts and perhaps his judgement. He reached down, grabbing your waist with one hand and caressing you face with the other, wiping away the stray tears that had begun to fall in a brief moment of confidence. 

“Please,” you said helplessly, making Erik look at you longingly. “Let me love you.”

All the walls he had built up came crashing down as he crashed his lips to yours. Your lips moved in sync with his, your arms snaking around his neck. Finally, you thought as you kissed him frantically. You had been wanting this for so long. He pulled away too quickly for your liking, leaving you wanting more.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking into your eyes with pure adoration.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

[mittensmorgul]

A few thoughts on unusual shots in 15.06 that I find visually interesting and worthy of consideration. I’m not suggesting that any or all of this means anything in particular, but while going through the episode very slowly last night and writing the transcript, these were things that stood out to me in particular. These things grabbed my attention. I figured other people would be interested in them, too.

During the gas station scene, Sam is framed throughout their conversation with the red and blue QUALITY SureGas sign over his shoulder, while Eileen is in front of a window that says "Thank you for shopping." The whole station has an American flag theme to it, which is reminiscent of all the Americana and flag themes from back in s10. This is just a gas station I don't recall seeing in Superantural's world of Gas N Sip, you know? Interesting that this one is different. Also while we're here, don't forget to sign up for the SureGas rewards program! Or so the banner at the top of the station advises.

In the first shot we see of her, the Witch Mother is watching Sam through a ripply mirror. You know, that cliched effect I mockingly describe with accompanying harp sounds as a character flashes back to the past? Like that, but on a mirror spying on Sam. She looks like she stole Little Red Riding Hood's costume and has laid a trap for what she presumes is the big bad wolf.

Aah, the shot that prompted me to make this list in the first place. Inside the Witches' van (again, labeled "Keep 'er Movin' you GO we PACK." Sam recovers from the effects of the hex bag the witches planted on the Impala. Inside the van, we're getting Sam's pov via the camera-- everything is blurry and jumpy and unclear. Sam doesn't know where he is. The camera even rotates 90 degrees as Sam sits up, candles twisting in a blurry glow as he sees the witches holding him captive. He tries to get up, but can't seem to. The camera shifts back to his pov again, and the clarity has improved a tiny bit after he asks, "Who are you?" The witch mother holds up a hand and says, "Rowena McLeod is dead." The camera to this point, while on Sam's pov, has been blurry, shaky, and unclear, with weird magical ringing sounds. (think: that scene in 14.07 in the hallway where Rowena was discussing Jack's condition, and Dean's vision went all weird and blurry and shaky and the sound went all angel-ringy the moment she said the word "archangel." It was visually and thematically reminiscent, and considering Sam's mysterious "connection" to Chuck right now, and the visions/dreams he'd been having, this is potentially a clue about THAT, but also considering this is all about witchcraft, a clue about something else entirely). 

After that line, though, even when the camera returns to Sam's pov, there is no lingering strange effect, no blurriness, and no audio ringing noise. The ONLY weird camera angle we get in the van after that point is the very high dutch angle on shots of Emily playing with her voodoo doll and just creepily staring at Sam like Missy Bender (and heck this is the second episode in a row I've been reminded of the Benders at some point). (Also is it still called a dutch angle when it's off-kilter in a left-right rotational way but also shot from a high angle? I don't know enough of the technical terms to describe this correctly, but it's WEIRD and leaves us with the impression that Emily is younger and more childlike-- I mean she's playing with a doll and wearing Mary Janes and tights. She already looks like a five year old even though she is physically an adult (according to the actress's IMDB page, she's 25), as well as making us wary or uneasy about her (thanks, dutch angle!), even while in the wide shots of the entire room Sam is framed as "lower" than the two women, and Emily is framed from behind and far larger than even Sam, taking up nearly a third of the shot. She's also entirely dressed in white. But all the other Sam POV shots are normal.

(also of note, the actress, Jodelle Ferland, was previously in 1.19, as Melanie Merchant, the murderous ghost-girl haunting the painting, who was finally defeated when Dean burned her doll before she could kill Sam and Sarah Blake, so the fact she's clutching a doll she's using to repeatedly hurt Sam throughout this episode, where Sam’s female hunting companion is instead the ghost, is interesting.)

The final scene of the episode, where we open on Dean alone with his dark thoughts about everything in general (basically his mindset since 14.20, mulling over everything), is sitting at the war room table with his feet up, shot from between the bars on the landing above with the shadow grid surrounding him. When he starts talking with Sam, he's shot in plain light-- no bars, no grid.

This scene is also interesting for the beer they're drinking-- one I don't recall having seen before. "Flatz pale ale." And just, first off, "Flatz" sounds like a TERRIBLE name for a beer, right? But that's how Dean's kinda been lately-- Flat. Flat of mood, affect, hope... okay back to the shot itself.

We get that high angle shot, Dean imprisoned by the bars and grid again after Sam says this line:

Sam: We have moves to make here, Dean. We do. I mean, do you think Chuck wanted me to shoot him? Of course not.

The moment Dean begins to reply, it cuts back to that high shot JUST for this part, before returning to a different angle and normal lighting again:

Dean: You sure about that? Maybe that was part of the plan, you know?

But behind Dean during the rest of that line, you can see a row of three warmly glowing library table lights and the big blue telescope in the distance:

Dean: That's the thing man. I don't know what's God and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy.

(with a tiny aside to alert everyone who is insisting to me that it’s obvious what Chuck’s actual plans are, and it’s obvious what Chuck is and isn’t manipulating, this is the visual narrative telling us not to believe that)

[brunhiddensmusings]

random movies/shows i just remembered were a thing

there is no point in any of this other then me being impressed that i remember all of this shit and reflecting on ‘i couldnt make this up if i tried’ a live action tv series of alice in wonderland, it was violently 80s an ‘alf’ cartoon series, that was MORE violently 80s an alice in wonderland cartoon series from the makers of the alf cartoon series which was only moderately 80s neverending story animated series that is somehow underwhelming enough it erases memory of itself a show where james earl jones sits in some kind of negative plane room that has a floor, doors, windows, a chair, and one lamp yet somehow no walls, the windows just kind of hover there. he told stories. how the hell did a show where james earl jones just tells soothing stories fly under everyone's radar? a live action reading comprehension series that featured a kid with magic gloves that rode a stationary bycicle to warp through dimensions that im sure no other human being ever saw so im partially thinking it might have been a hallucination except hallucinations typically have higher production values an animated glowworm movie that was trying to do with the glowworm dolls what MLP the show did for MLP the toys. it contained at least one song i can still remember the tune of 25 years later. there was a moleperson that gave off strong lesbian vibes who was rebelling against her biker vibe moleperson family an animated movie about ‘the lollipop dragon’ that seemed like there was other content on the intellectual property but ive never seen any, taking the form of a car race through whats essentially candyland to prevent liver and onion flavored lollipops being the new official christmas candy to be distributed by santa clause live action series that was only ever on at like 4AM where someone tells fairy tales that are slightly more disturbing then they should be while illustrating them in chalk which is one hell of a trick the animated series ‘mummies alive’ that was trying to basically copy/paste everything they could from the ‘gargoyles’ show but forgot to make it good not to be confused with the ‘tutenstein’ show, which somehow made less sense ‘dink the dinosaur’ a tv series hoping nobody noticed it wasn't actually land before time the animated series a live action series where a modern family was trapped somewhere that was a dinosaur infested jungle so they had to live in a tree house that was only just barely taller then the t-rex that was continually stalking them. the moon had claw marks on it i think? it was basically swiss family robinson but early 90s animated movie ‘the elm chanted forest’ that im more just baffled my parents were able to acquire something that obscure in their pirated vhs collection, i cant think of a possible reason anyone in my family would ever have been in the same room as a copy of this. like damned i havent even seen any of the youtubers that rate obscure bizzare movies even mention this fever dream. the highlight was probably when the talking mushrooms started breakdancing in a impressively racist manner like damned you raised the bar on racist cartoons somehow for about two minutes in an otherwise completely inoffensive movie from i think croatia. seriously its the best part, even better then when the cactus king summons his sapient weapon minions and engages his ferris wheel of doom to kill all the beavers

the animated series ‘superdave’ about a daredevil who gets repeatedly maimed, and repeatedly framed it as though he was a real person in the way jackie chan adventures does the animated series ‘wish kid’ where macully culkin aged 9 is granted basically fairy odd parents style wish abilities from a baseball glove. gilbert godfried its there, constantly, like hes almost there as much as the kid is holy crap i forgot the tazmanian devil got his own show for like five months yall remember when the ps1 first launched? when the game cases were strangely huge for no particular reason because they hadnt adopted the jewel cases yet and there were only like seven games available for the system and none of them even knew how to incorporate memory cards? ‘blazing dragons’ was a point and click adventure game that happened to be one of those seven games, eric idle was one of the people who made the game yet ive never met anyone who remembers playing the game or even hearing anything about it. yeah, this game had an animated series.... it was surprisingly witty in a were not even trying to make sense way that was purposefully avoiding explaining its world live action series ‘zoobalie zoo’ where people in the worst fursuits known to man just kind of exist in an almost entirely empty set where a handfull of circus cage wagons that i assume were their homes were the only structures outside of like two cardboard bushes why the hell was ‘mighty max’ not a cultural icon the way invader zim was, that show rocked so hard ‘the robonic stooges’ where the 3 stooges are robots jhon candy had an animated series where he played himself as a camp counselor. it.... kinda worked almost, blending the generic 80s camp movie ‘bad land developer’ formula with self aware complaints. it only stank a little the animated ‘happy days’ spinoff where they have a time traveling spaceship

not to be confused with the one where the partridge family lives in the year 3000, or when casper the ghost lives in space.... im beginning to see a trend here ‘starship troopers’ the CG series where surprisingly nobody ever died an animated series about a green rabbit on a spaceship that i only recently learned also was not a fever dream from when i was 8. all images i see of it only convince me more that im still hallucinating its existance i cant rmember the name of it but a live action series about aliens living on earth, all the adults have actual costumes to disguise themselves as humans but the baby, who is apperantly the ruler of the universe, is a disturbing pink puppet. also they have magic powers instead of technology and the theme song was ‘wishing on a star’. memories of this show still occasionally haunt me but it was still better then charles in charge just on novelty value there was a ‘jhonny quest’ reboot that aged him up and incorporated CG for a kind of cyberspace setting for the sole purpose they had a villian that was a quadrapallegic but could do things in the cyberspace setting, yet really nobody should have cared because the cyberspace setting wasnt connected to any real world imput devices so he was just the main boss of his own videogame why are you picking on this man. they were foggy on if haji actually had magic powers or just really hardcore yoga skills, and one fanatical zealot villian who basically escaped from the place they keep the well written batman antagonists you remember the ‘the way things work’ book? it had illustrations on every concept of physics and mechanical processes that used mammoths to explain everything from the screw to the lever to sewing machines to integrated circuits. yeah, it had an animated tv series .....somehow not to be confused with ‘cro’, an animated series about a mammoth that was frozen, thawed in the late 80s, was able to talk, and was a framing device for his stories of a weirdly sexily drawn caveman teen that invented all technology

it was basically ‘the croods’ but better and 30 years earlier a live action series based on ‘harry and the hendersons’.... im surprised they could create enough material for one full episode like seriously where do you go from there? its surprisingly hard to think of a story for ‘were a modern 80s family who has bigfoot as a roomate’ an animated series where a basketball player, baseball player, and hockey player are secretly superheroes. there was also a hardcore badass old lady who did most of the work. wayne gretszky was the one nobody respected the pocket dragons had a show. yes, a show based on collectable porcelain figurines that were marketed for their cute value on home shopping network CG series ‘vanpires’, yes it was about sapient cars that were vampires and actual live children who turned into cars that were vampires. that is all oh yeah, there was a back to the future animated series, i thought i repressed that better speaking of repressed memories, i cannot escape the knowledge that ‘super duper sumos’ and ‘mega babies’ existed, booze cannot erase this knowledge

[ahnsael]

I have to share this intense dream I had before work last night. It wasn’t as frightening as other dreams in some ways (as in I wasn’t feeling fer, more like “this is what life is like now and there’s nothing I can do about it), but in other ways it was horrific.

I was walking down a street that, to my knowledge, I don’t know from real life (in and of itself odd -- even my worst nightmares are usually based on familiar locales), and these shipping container-looking things were every few blocks.

And sometimes I’d see a door open, a person in a white coat pull someone in, and then another person in a white coat would inject them with something.

In the dream, I knew it was some sort of experimental serum that the white-coats didn’t actually know what it did, so they had decided to inject random people with it, and then put them under secret surveillance to see how they reacted.

They would twitch a lot, and become part of a sort of “hive mind.”

Every night, one injected person would kill a non-injected person.

I had come home from work in the dream, hoping beyond hope that they hadn’t gotten my roommate.

And there was a kid in a Darth Vader costume dancing outside my apartment, and an older gentleman also there but...just standing with a blank look on his face. Once in a while his head would twitch to the side. I knew that both of them had been injected (I knew this before I saw them -- the injectees were still mostly just part of the community, just once in a while did very strange things or actually killed someone and we all just had to deal with it).

I opened the door to my apartment in the dream and saw my roommate -- still alive, and still behaving normally. I then started shouting at the older twitchy guy to “get the f*** out of here!” until he reluctantly did. The kid just kind of danced away in his Darth Vader suit (complete with mask) without me saying anything to him.

I remember then being in a larger “dormitory” style room, where maybe 10-15 people were sleeping. I was quietly watching a TV that had three channels (and two of them were showing the exact same thing). Every once in a while, I’d see someone (an injectee) peer through the window, and I would pretend I was asleep to avoid becoming his chosen target.

But as often as he was peeking in, I felt the need to get out of there.

So when I saw him walk away from the window, in the opposite direction from the front door, I made a run for it. I didn’t know where I was going to go or what I was going to do, but I didn’t feel safe. I just needed to get away.

And at that point my alarm clock went off (in real life) and I woke up.

It may not make a lot of sense as I’ve told it, but it’s been running through my mind for the past 12½ hours since waking up.

I miss the old dreams about being at Disneyland or Walt Disney World where things sometimes got weird (not talking about the old Haunted Mansion nightmares that gave me the Ahnsael name -- those were definitely full-on nightmares and I don’t miss those), but they didn’t fill me with a sense of dread mixed with acceptance of “this is just what life is like now.”

[accio-spaceman]

VORTEX Magazine - Issue 122

(April 2019)

Download PDF version for FREE on the Big Finish website

Partners In Time

At last! The Doctor and Donna are back!

[Above Cover for “The Tenth Doctor Adventures Volume Three”, featuring (l-r, top-bottom) Catherine Tate, David Tennant, Jacqueline King, Bernard Cribbins, and two Judoon.]

The Doctor and Donna Noble are arguably one of the most popular Doctor and companion pairings ever, and their adventures in space and time continue in The Tenth Doctor Adventures Volume Three. David Tennant and Catherine Tate reprise their TV roles for a second run of audio adventures from Big Finish.

(Full Article Under Cut)

Producer David Richardson says: “I actually got very nervous in the weeks before recording, as I did on their previous box set. You are just so aware that you are going to be working with two of the biggest stars in this country, and you want them to have a brilliant time and for the whole thing to run smoothly.

“The night before recording I just told myself, forget the nerves, treat it like any other production and it will be great. And actually by the time David and Catherine arrived at Moat Studios, the nerves had totally evaporated.

“David and Catherine don’t behave like stars – they walked in as two normal people who get on with everyone. When you’re sitting having a cup of tea with David Tennant talking about The Avengers or whatever, you’re really just chatting to a lovely human being.”

It was director Ken Bentley’s first time directing David and Catherine, and before recording began he admitted to Vortex: “I’ve not had much time to think about it as we’ve been extremely busy through August and September. I only just managed to squeeze in the time to schedule it!

[Above (l-r) David Tennant and Catherine Tate]

“I’m like any fan, dying to hear what the Nobles, Wilf and The Doctor get up to. What a dream cast!” 

– Russell T Davies

“I always get excited about working on a new range. The bit I love the most about directing is working with actors, and to work with actors new to me is always something I look forward to.

“In my line of work it’s the rehearsal room and the recording studio where the magic happens, and it’s always a treat to watch professionals bringing roles to life.

“All actors work and respond differently. Part of my job is to quickly figure out how an actor likes to work so I can help make the recording go as smoothly as possible for them – and for everybody else. It’s a challenge I enjoy and I like to get it right. So it’s exciting for me to work with an entirely new team and to figure out what makes them tick.”

[Above Cover for “No Place” by James Goss, featuring (l-r) Bernard Cribbins, Catherine Tate, David Tennant, and Jacqueline King.]

The first story in the set is No Place by James Goss. Script editor Matt Fitton says: “We knew straightaway we could bring the wider Noble family into it by having Donna and Sylvia together, so we gave James that brief. It meant it had to be set on Donna’s contemporary Earth, since her mum isn’t aware of her space and time travel yet.”

Former Doctor Who showrunner Russell T Davies, creator of Donna, Sylvia and Wilf, tells Vortex: “I’m so excited about the return of the Noble family. I put in a request to Big Finish never thinking they’d actually pull it off. But, I might have known, they’re unstoppable! Marvellously, I haven’t heard the adventure myself yet, so I’m like any fan, dying to hear what the Nobles, Wilf and the Doctor get up to. What a dream cast!”

Jacqueline King was delighted to be back as Sylvia.

She says: “Since we finished on TV I’ve seen David a couple of times, and I keep in touch with Bernard because he’s so gorgeous! He and I did the quiz show Pointless. And Catherine was in a play which Bernard and I went to see together, so that was lovely. We’ve just not been all together so there was so much to catch up on. I felt desperately maternal towards Catherine, wanting to know how she was!

“I was very jealous that David and Catherine were going on to do more stories over the next couple of days without Bernard and myself. Bernard and I were joking, asking, How can you do that? That’s just disloyal!

“It was lovely, and if we could have carried on I would have but it was just one day. It would be heaven if we could do more!”

Matt continues: “James came back with this ‘haunted makeovers’ idea which was great, and as it was being developed we asked James to keep in mind a role for Wilf in case we were able to get Bernard Cribbins – perhaps just a cameo role. As it turned out we learned fairly early on that we could have Bernard for the whole day, so it all worked out perfectly and Wilf was fully included in the episode at the storyline stage.”

In a similar vein to what the TV show did at the time, No Place taps into the zeitgeist of what is currently popular on TV, which in this case brings in the feed of ghost and home makeover reality TV shows.

“If you’re a fan of either Buzzfeed Unsolved or Homes Under The Hammer you’ll find lots to love in this.” 

– James Goss

James explains: “Honestly, when you think about it most horror films are home makeover shows! Family moves into house on haunted graveyard. Tries to do it up. Ends up running away screaming/being dead/finds out they were always dead so probably shouldn’t have bothered wallpapering the downstairs bathroom. This was inspired by that. Imagining a horror film but with Kirsty Allsop following our screaming family about. And making the screaming family the Doctor, Donna, Sylvia and Wilf.

“If you’re a fan of either Buzzfeed Unsolved or Homes Under the Hammer you’ll find lots to love in this. We’ve got a ghostbox, we’ve got replacement light fittings, we’ve mysterious voices, we’ve endless discussions about plumbing. The one thing we couldn’t do was Hammer’s endless, appalling punning music track. (Presenter: ‘They really do love this hopeless place.’ Music: ‘We Found Love in a Hopeless Place’)!”

Producer David Richardson adds: “I’m struck by how creepy it all sounds. Some of the sequences in the old house are really unsettling even without any effects or music, which is a sure sign of how great the writing, performances and direction are.”

[Above Cover for “One Mile Down” by Jenny T Colgan, featuring (l-r) David Tennant, a Judoon, and Catherine Tate.]

One Mile Down by Jenny T Colgan continues the Doctor and Donna’s adventures when they find themselves in an underwater city and encounter the Judoon.

Matt continues: “In terms of using new series monsters, the Judoon are one of the most recognisable and the Tenth Doctor has some history with them, meeting them several times during his era.

“Because of what’s been established on screen there are certain monsters he’s meeting for the first time, but with the Judoon he knows what they’re about and how they work. They are not power-crazed evil monsters, they are mercenaries working for other people, and their agenda isn’t always immediately clear. It’s nice to have that bit of potential uncertainty – are they an ally? Are they a threat? We get to play with that in this story.”

“We have individuals in the Judoon ranks which we’ve touched on before. There’s the trainee, Klo, who starts to side with the Doctor and Donna, realising they can do some good during the story, which is a fun thing to play with.” The story’s setting lends itself to a good soundscape, with a city beneath the waves.

Matt explains: “In the TV episode Smith and Jones, the first thing we see the Judoon do is control the rain and send it upwards with their H2O scoop.

“That means we can make use of their technology which lends itself perfectly to an audio story.”

Of course, Donna has also encountered the Judoon on TV, and Matt adds: “Watching Donna in The Stolen Earth, we get a reaction from her to the Judoon, but when we checked with Russell he watched it back and felt there was no reason why Donna couldn’t have met them before.

“What’s clearly a surprise to her is the Doctor speaking Judoon, so we were very careful not to have him doing that in front of her.”

[Above Cover for “The Creeping Death” by Roy Gill, featuring (l-r) David Tennant, Catherine Tate, and Lauren Cornelius dressed in 1952 London period-costume, holding a torch.]

Concluding this series is The Creeping Death by Roy Gill.

David explains: “We asked the writers for short pitches – I think they might have sent in three ideas each. I’ve actually been keeping a list of things I want to see in a Doctor Who story, one of which was ‘The London Fog of 1952’, so it was a no-brainer when Roy pitched that one!”

Roy was delighted to be able to write for David Tennant, a fellow Scotsman, as well as Donna.

He admits it was: “Hugely exciting. They’re one of my Doctor Who dream teams, really. The Doctor and Donna are best friends, they’re fast and funny, they wind each other up but most importantly they make each other stronger and better. Their dialogue was a joy to write – and yes please, if the opportunity ever comes up, I absolutely want to do more!”

Roy travelled from his Edinburgh home to attend the recording at Moat Studios in London, and has plenty of happy memories from the sessions.

Roy adds: “Oh, loads! David asking, ‘Is that a Scottish accent?’ as soon as he met me – and then me kind of over-explaining where I’m from (sorry, David...). Catherine cracking up over her lines about ‘bad air’ and cheese and onion crisps… How quickly all the big, exciting scenes flew by in the recording booths.

“Stephen Critchlow talking over lunch about the classic Who he’d been watching with his daughter. Lauren Cornelius telling me she’d loved her character and the story so much that when she got the script she read it from cover to cover then immediately turned it over and read it again! Theo Stevenson saying he’d watched David Tennant’s Doctor when he was about 10 or 12. He was thrilled to be in a Doctor Who – making us all feel ancient!”

Producer David adds: “This story is brilliant! Just a character piece about a group of people lost in the fog and there’s something really nasty out there… David has some terrific speeches, Catherine gets to play out some lovely relationships with the guest characters, and the whole thing feels like it was on TV back in 2008.”

Director Ken Bentley was relieved when recording was complete after three successive days in studio – which Big Finish rarely do.

He explains: “It’s great to know we have a complete box set in the bag! These days availabilities are such that we’re squeezing in recordings as and when we can, sometimes over quite long periods of time. It’s rare to record three days straight and know you’ve got it all, but given the schedule we’re all on it’s a huge relief!”

“The whole thing feels like it was on TV back in 2008.” 

– David Richardson

Responsible for music and sound design is Howard Carter, who says: “I’ll usually go through and work out if there are any background or atmosphere tracks that reappear throughout the play, or any individual recurring effects (specific vehicles or weapons, for example). If so I will create these in advance and add them to the project library so they are ready to drag and drop in when I’m working. I’ll record the foley sound as I go and layer up all the relevant backgrounds and effects scene by scene. Once the full play is assembled I’ll send a draft off to the director and move on to the score.

“I will usually spend a couple of days scoring a play although if there’s more time I will always spend longer (I’m a composer by trade!). At this point I know the play well so will have a sense of the mood, style and pacing.

“If I’m working on a completely new play I’ll create a template and start adding instruments and sounds as I see fit in order to start with a completely fresh palette. Every play is different so I don’t have one fixed approach. There are scene breaks which usually need a cue, and there are sometimes musical directions in the script, but otherwise a lot of the process is instinctive. A play may need a lot of music to keep energy levels up and maintain a sense of pace, or it may need the music to really take a background role and just glue certain elements together. Each one is unique.”

– VORTEX Magazine, Issue 122, Pages 4-8

THE TENTH DOCTOR ADVENTURES VOLUME THREE IS OUT IN MAY ON CD AND DOWNLOAD.

The Tenth Doctor Adventures Volume Three is out in May on CD and Download.

The special edition release comes complete with exclusive production notes, storyboards from Mike Tucker and costume designs from June Hudson.

For full details visit www.bigfinish.com .

(Edited to include Lauren Cornelius’ name in the image description of “The Creeping Death” cover.)

[handmade--ghost]

temperance and the heirophant for the ask game !

temperance: can you describe a strange dream you had?

oh boy. i write down most of my dreams in a google doc (3 actually, because i start a new one when scrolling to the bottom on mobile grows tedious) so i'll look for an interesting one.

ok i'm cutting out a lot here to get to my point:

my mom was now principal of the elementary school she works at, and i was volunteering in the library (which i do irl). the layout was super weird. anyways i leave from working in the backroom and bump into this guy who's like 19ish? but he's in like. full period clothing. like pride and prejudice mr bingley, the low ponytail, the works. he had a bit of a european accent. we talked and i was like man i've really gotta get these books to a classroom. so i leave and there's the stairs of the highschool and on the cover of one of the books is a ghostish girl, and suddenly she's there irl. i go back to the library, and the same guy is talking to my mom at a table. they invite me to sit down so i do. he's talking about studying abroad in france. he offers me to come with next time he goes and my mom Really wants me to. suddenly the table shrunk and instead of being way at the end he's right close across from me. i said i would think about it.

then it's night in the dream, and i'm in a blue sort of ballet costume like many other girls (including the ghost girl) and we're getting ready for a performance for very rich people in a very fancy art nouveau theater. that's also in the school. the ghost girl starts wandering off and removing her costume and i'm trying to stop her, then i get yelled at to fix it. the end.

sorry it's so long! i find dreams so interesting and i chose this one because a week or so after, my mom told me i actually had the opportunity to go back to france (and to spain) and she really wanted me to take it. it wasn't to study, and there was no vaguely french guy. it's not the first time a little nugget of precognition has nested itself into all the other details of my dream. also i remembered details Very vividly (like how i was carrying a copy of pride and prejudice, which is probably why mr. regency appeared. and that there was a sink running in the back room of the library, and the expression on their faces when i said maybe.)

sorry! next question now.

the heirophant: do you believe in ghosts?

possibly. to an extent. i think that it's definitely possible but a lot of the supposedly haunted places are maybe just people experiencing what they want to experience. however, i have had some paranormal experiences myself

also i get annoyed by most ghost shows (buzzfeed unsolved gets my stamp of approval)