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inamindfarfaraway · 1 year ago

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I love how Paul's character in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is defined entirely by a lack of desire, or desire defined only as 'not what I don't want'. "What Do You Want, Paul?" is a big joke about what a terrible narrative protagonist he is. But it's deeper than that. Throughout the show, even in the smallest, most insignificant phrasing, this man only ever expresses wants in these negative forms, as if he's incapable of feeling attraction in itself rather than simply avoiding what he dislikes. And only avoiding! He never says that he hates anything, either! That would give him passion, drive, perhaps the goal of actively removing that thing. No, he exclusively uses the verb hate in past tense.

He doesn't like musicals, singing, dancing or public performances. He makes this very clear, to the point that it's one of his most significant character traits. At no point does he ever talk about liking any media.

He doesn't want to do social activities.

He doesn't want to give away his money. About both this and the above, he can provide no logical explanation or moral justification. He just doesn't feel like them.

He always gets black coffee because it has "no cream, no sugar, nothing in it"; that is to say, he might not necessarily love it, merely prefer it over its sweeter or more complex alternatives.

He doesn't believe that Emma should have to sing and dance at work - he doesn't want her life to be so unfair and annoying to the both of them.

He doesn't want to obstruct the workings of his office (saying "that's the last thing I want" triggers "What Do You Want, Paul?").

He says, "I wanna go home!" when Mr Davidson is singing at him, but means that he wants to be somewhere safe and not stuck in this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

He doesn't want to die.

He specifically doesn't want to die in Clivesdale, because fuck Clivesdale.

He doesn't want to join the Hive.

He doesn't want to leave Hatchetfield, even when it's the site of an alien invasion that is his personal worst nightmare. He actually says that "All things considered, I like Hatchetfield", arguably an exception to the standard. However, he's also well aware of the town's flaws and problems. He grew up one of its poorer residents, attending the inferior, underfunded Sycamore High School where he casually admits the students "hated [themselves]" and having to watch its more respectable rival Hatchetfield High's school play. He has no strong investment in his tedious middle-class office job. He doesn't get along with some of his fellow townsfolk, like his coworker Ted and all the employees of Beanies except Emma. He awkwardly evades giving to charity and the homeless every morning on his way to work. His life is decidedly not one of utter bliss, and yet it's good enough for him in that he doesn't have the energy, ambition or imagination to want anything more. Since he's "been here [his] whole life", his affection for his hometown could be more an aversion to everywhere else or the hassle of travelling. Sticking with the devil he intimately knows.

He doesn't think badly of Emma, and says so because he doesn't want her to or believe that he does after learning that she helped make a "hated" experience of his happen.

He doesn't want to let Bill die, which is why he goes with Bill to rescue Alice. His heroism and proactiveness at the turning point of the end of Act One start to notably erode his apathy, but his phrasing reaffirms his negative motivations: "Hey, it's not like you're asking me to go see Mama Mia!", "Emma, there comes a time in every man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I will never be in a fucking musical."

He doesn’t want Bill to blame himself for Alice's endangerment, stay in the area once Alice is revealed to be a vessel of the Hive or kill himself.

He doesn't want to do some light reading on the universal truth of love and the strength of the human heart.

He has no positive motivation. He breaks one of the most basic rules of being a fictional character, let alone the main character the audience is supposed to root for. He isn't just an antihero, he's an anti-protagonist. Although this could easily make him boring or unsympathetic, he manages to seem relatable. Real. Human. He captures so genuinely an ordinary person living an ordinary life suddenly trapped in a horror story. How many of us can honestly articulate "one concrete goal that motivates all [our] actions"? Even if you can, you wouldn't undergo a narratively fulfilling and thematically cohesive arc related to that desire the way a fictional character would. We're all essentially just trying to survive each day. To make or keep our lives however we define 'good enough'. We may not have a crystal clear picture of our ideal life, but I bet we all have a long list of things we don't want in it. We're all Paul. He even says, “I want what anyone wants”.

What more appropriate antagonist for this man to face, then, than a force that exists to strip people of their autonomy, their individuality, their personhood, and force them to play archetypical characters in a conventional narrative? The Hive observes that Paul is an anti-protagonist and takes offence to this. It seeks to convert him into his antithesis, the "bold" "leading man" of its musical who the audience can "sympathize with". The Infected highlight this in the opening song, in which they eagerly anticipate and prepare the audience for his entrance... and he misses his cue. He isn't following their script. Perhaps that's why the audience is able to believe in this average, unassuming antihero's potential to succeed, to defeat the Hive or at the very least escape it, despite how fraught and grim the situation becomes. The story certainly proves itself to be cruel to its characters; but Paul doesn't operate like a normal character. The Hive promises to fulfil people's desires and make them happy throughout the play. Charlotte, Bill, Hidgens and Ted's deaths are connected to, by either direct causality or thematic relevance, their respective desires for Sam's love, Alice's safety, world peace (and the glory of a musical career) and Ted's own survival. Paul is uniquely immune to this pattern of death related to a core motivation.

Until:

"I can't leave without Emma”, “a friend of mine."

"Is there a chance of something more?"

"I think so. I'd like there to be. I want there to be."

He wants Emma, her life and her happiness and maybe, just maybe, her love. He wants to love her. To spend time with her. For the first time ever, he wants more out of life, not less. He's a little bit more of a character. After the Infected reprise the "Did you hear the word?" section of the opening song, building up to his appearance, this time he does enter the theatre, coming down the aisle just as he was meant to. Right on cue. Paul is now vulnerable to the narrative - the Hive's narrative. And the Hive's control.

Still he resists, even while doubting if he was ever really happy before. Not only does he use his final words, fittingly, to declare that he doesn't like musicals, but before that he firmly refutes the Hive, and the philosophy behind it and all the pressures and temptatations it might represent: "It doesn't matter what I want." What matters is the good of the world. Emma. Love. Hope. Freedom. Integrity. Humanity, which must be wonderful if we can make sacrifices like this for all the right reasons.

Rest in peace, Paul Matthews. You were the opposite of a conventional protagonist, but a true hero.

#paul matthews #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #hatchetfield #tgwdlm hive #hatchetfield meta #tgwdlm meta #tgwdlm analysis #analysis

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libraford · 9 months ago

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Okay so here's the rundown of everything that happened with the radio station because omg is it some drama.

In the 90's, there were a lot more independently-run radio stations. There wasn't IHeartRadio and there wasn't SiriusFM or JackFM. A dude could just have a radio station frequency and start a radio station as long as they complied with FCC regulations. And one of these radio stations in Columbus was an alternative station called CD101.

That frequency was sold to a classical station, which is fine because the exchange was friendly. And then the station moved to a different frequency, CD102.5.

So I know it may seem like radio DJ's are just weirdos with microphones and that's just not true- they are TALENTED weirdos with a microphone. You have to be personable, you have to know about the music you're playing, you have to be enthusiastic. And this station was pretty good about programming- they played local music, they played deep cuts, they played weird shit. There were programs for oddball and punk and goth music. They ran charities, they were at local festivals, they were in parades. Their radio station even had a small concert venue attached to it and they would invite visiting musicians to play. Like it really was about community.

But.

Radio stations are expensive, and they get more expensive every year, and in 2020 they were unable to renew their FCC license.

And then a couple months later, they were back again under CD 92.9. A radio station rented out the frequency to them and they were able to get back on the air. It was like nothing ever happened.

I'm not going to know what happened between the owner the frequency (Mark) and the owner of the station (Randy) because there's a lot of people talking about Mark overcharging on rent and Randy being late or short on payments.

An agreement was drawn up to have Randy buy the frequency over a period of (I think) 5 years. But the price was high and the terms of termination were brutal (if he was even one day late on a payment, it constituted termination of the contract). And Randy found those terms to be unreasonable.

So, they announced that the radio station would be going off the air February 1, 2024. And we're all pretty upset! Like, not to be like 'this station saved my life,' but this was a pretty consistent source of event news for me and its how I learned about a lot of concerts and artists. They played one of my friend's bands pretty often and its like 'hell yeah, I know that flutist!'

The DJs of CD92.9 said their good-byes on Facebook.

Meanwhile...

The new DJ of the new station announced that it was always his destiny run the station, and that the new station would be More local music, More deep cuts, More weird shit- and No Billie Eilish. "Out with the old, in with the new."

On one of the old DJ's good-bye posts, the new DJ tried to recruit him to the new station.

"Really? You're trying to poach me on my good-bye post?"

Mark makes a statement that the station will be committed to 'continuing the legacy of CD92.9' and will be using the same programming, the same music, the same DJ's.

Randy says 'the fuck it will, that wasn't the deal' and files a C&D. The DJ's are allowed to work for the new station if they so please, but the new station is not going to inherit shit. They cannot use the same programming, their staff, or any of the thousands of recordings they've use in the past 30 years. Any branding or attempt to brand as similar to CD92.9 is a breach of contract.

A facebook group formed around the support of CD 92.9. How to help, how to get their online stream onto your phone, upcoming events, sponsors to support, and a healthy amount of bitching. Admittedly, some of the posts were REAL stretches- like... I'm sorry darling, I know you want it to happen, but you are NOT going to get them on copyright infringement because their red X logo looks kind of like a similar red X logo from a radio station in Milwaukee.

CD92.9 goes down, 93X goes up.

He does play some more uncommon music, sure. But he doesn't announce who the artist is so its kind of like... what's the point in that? If you just play a local band, but we don't know who the local band is, how are we going to go to their concerts? He'd also talk smack about some bands and its like... don't? You're a public face now.

And then there's the radio edits, which he chose not to play on occasion, so the radio was full of f-bombs. FCC violation.

And as a DJ, simply not charismatic. Like I realize he's not Blorbo from my radio, but like I said- DJing is a skill.

So I just didn't listen. It wasn't worth my time to try. I found a different, less cool station to listen to in the car and I listened to the stream at home.

The mood of the facebook group shifted more towards support for the sponsors, events planned around 92.9, news about who is leaving and who is staying and we just kind of let 93X exist.

The promise of 'no Billie Eilish' fell through pretty quickly. Their music selection dropped to the usual 'alternative music' packet of Imagine Dragons and Twenty-One Pilots. And eventually...

They went off the air. After one month of airtime, it is now an oldies station.

93X DJ said 'well, congratulations you got what you wanted.' Which is half right. We wanted them to tank and our old station to succeed. We're still hopeful about the second part.

The Dispatch ran an article about the short-lived station. Ends with:

So just for like... summary-

Ya'll took over the station with a committed listener base, claimed that you'd be just continuing business as usual, tried to poach their talent, hired someone with no problem talking shit, and when your station failed...

... you want to blame a Facebook Group?

Are you a child?

Anyways, if you'd like to hear an alternative rock station in Columbus that's just doing their best, here's a link to the stream!

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jishyucks · 1 year ago

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True Love Gave to Me Masterlist

— A Holiday Series of Short Oneshots

Ah~ the holiday season—a season of giving, of joy and laughter, of overflowing love… Why not spread this festive warmth with 12 short stories set during this time of year?

‣ featuring: hyung line of nct dream x reader, 00line of stray kids x reader, & 02z of enhypen x reader

‣ genre: all very fluffy! and holiday-themed (some are cliche but who hates cliches), specifics and warnings will be listed under each fic!

one.

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, classmates au

Sure, it was disheartening seeing everyone receive a holiday candy gram but you, especially when you’re the one in charge of selling them at lunch. But don't worry, yours is on the way. He’s just… running a bit late.

Received!

two.

‣ pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, rich-kid!au

You’ve quickly established that no one at this damn charity gala cares about the event’s purpose. They were just there to party. And you wanted nothing else but to leave; alternatively, in which Hyunjin saves you from your misery to see the city’s Christmas lights.

Received!

three.

‣ pairing: park jay x reader ‣ genre: fluff, coworkers-to-something more?, subtly hurt/comfort

Your ability to empathize was a blessing and curse. When you see your boss sitting alone in his office on Christmas Day, you can’t help but invite him to your family party. And when he actually says yes, you’re kind of stuck regretting the offer simply because you’re not sure how this is going to turn out.

Received!

four.

‣ pairing: huang renjun x reader ‣ genre: fluff, academic rivals to (implied) lovers, forced proximity

You don’t hate many things, but you could proudly say that you hate snow and Huang Renjun. And now that the universe has decided that it was a great idea to have you snowed in with the smartass himself, you’ll gladly add the universe to that list.

Received!

five.

‣ pairing: han jisung x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers

In all honesty, you had no idea why you decided to take up the job of gift wrapping at your local mall. There are moms constantly yelling at you, your fingers are covered in papercuts, and the hours are long. Luckily, your coworker, Jisung, is there to make it more bearable.

Received!

six.

‣ pairing: jake sim x reader ‣ genre: fluff, meet-cute, implied strangers to something more

After months of being apart from your family, you finally get to fly back home for the holidays. On the flight there, you’re placed next to a cute stranger who has taken it upon himself to talk to you. What happens when the roads from the airport are closed overnight and you’re stuck with said stranger? You’re just hoping he doesn’t have any plans of kidnapping you.

Received!

seven.

‣ pairing: lee jeno x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers, secret admirer au, office!au

When gifts start appearing on your work desk on December 1st, you have no choice but to hunt down the man who’s been planting them. And with only 7 men on the floor, this shouldn’t be difficult… Right?

Received!

eight.

‣ pairing: felix lee x reader ‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l, hurt/comfort

Spending Christmas sick and in bed wasn’t Felix’s ideal way of spending the holiday. Being the best friend that you are, you decide to take care of him. Who would have thought that Felix was clingy when he had the flu?

Received!

nine.

‣ pairing: park sunghoon x reader ‣ genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers

After weeks of stalling, you finally let Sunghoon take you skating—and with how close you two are, you hope he mistakes the beating of your heart for the beat of the music.

Received!

ten.

‣ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader ‣ genre: fluff, established relationship

They weren’t lying when they said that the holiday season was the busiest time of year. With finals rolling around, gift shopping for your family, and keeping yourself in check, you barely have time to give your boyfriend the attention he wants. Donghyuck, however, has a way to work around this; alternatively, in which Donghyuck just wants one kiss and you think it’ll be funny not to give it to him

Received!

eleven.

‣ pairing: kim seungmin x reader ‣ genre: fluff, frenemies to lovers

After cursing the city and their poor excuse of cleaning the streets, you eventually swallow your pride and call your friends to help you free your car from the snow. And out of all the people that could have come, it really had to be Seungmin…

Received!

twelve.

‣ pairing: na jaemin x reader ‣ genre: fluff, f2l/co'workers'-to-lovers

You have two weaknesses—Gojo and men with kids… and you guess, Jaemin. That would make it three, but he falls under that second category; alternatively, in which you weren’t really planning on developing feelings for Na Jaemin but seeing him work with kids all the time at the local community centre is making it damn hard not to.

Received!

‣ an: another episode of me being ambitious cause I have so many other WIPS, so we'll see if I'll manage to do these on time (if not, Christmas lasts until Jan 6,,, soo) but don't worry I am motivated to actually complete this!—anyways, I love Christmas and the holiday season so much that I had to do this,,, and I didn’t rly do anything for when I reached 1k so why not? I'm aware it's 'true love sent to me' but this fits the theme more,,, PLEASE ENJOY AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!—things might change as I go!

!! if anyone is interested in joining a tag list, please let me know! just indicate if you'd like to be tagged on all of them or certain groups/members!

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shojizbae · 3 months ago

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Just take yourself back to 2006

Tom Kaulitz x Reader

It's the later days of MySpace and the early days of YouTube, and Tokio Hotel is starting to take off. Fan girls are really beginning to amass, and the world getting very familiar with Tokio Hotel. One young German girl had since seen the band and their aesthetics and decided to change her appearance almost entirely. One walk down to the convenience store later, she locked herself in the bathroom for the night. She pulled an all-nighter, and when she emerged from her bedroom the following day, her mother jumped at the sight.

Gone was the good little Jewish girl she had raised. Drugstore eyeliner was coating your waterline. Different locks of your hair were bleached or had been dyed neon pink. Your once sensible collared shirts and khaki pants had been exchanged for a pair of low-rise bootcut jeans you accidentally bought when out with your great aunt. A lack of cool bras was exchanged for a leopard print bikini layered under a white camisole, which you had tied around your waist. You had taken a sharpie to your nails, and your lips were drenched in strawberry glaze lip gloss.

"Oh, good morning, liebe!" your mom quivers behind the batter bowl. "Do you want pancakes?"

"Nein, I'm going to the mall with some friends." you look disinterestedly at your pink razor. Just then, your mom notices that you're dragging a bag of clothes behind you

"What are you doing with those?"

"I'm not going to wear them anymore, so I will sell them to one of those charity shops. Yeah, and I think I will go to the music store, so can I have 50 euros?"

"Why don't you ask your father?"

"Ugh, fine." You sling the trash bag over your shoulder, and your mother is not happy when you return with a hundred euros in your hand. God dammit, you have your dad in your back pocket, your mom remembers. You walk into town, sell your old clothes, get another hundred euros, and then take your new look for a spin. The bus ticket only eats up two of your euros, and when you get to the mall, you instantly grab the attention of some emos.

They take you under their skinny wings and drag you around Hot Topic. You're dragged through Victoria's Secret, and the girls show you the most natural push-up bras in the subtlest shades of neon magenta and bedazzled turquoise. They show you the matching G-strings and outfit you with all the best.

All your brand new best friends take the bus home with you and show you all the best music. Your parents aren't home, so you drag four random kids to your apartment. Your parents were horrified when they got home. Sure, it was natural to experiment at your age, and sure, 15 was a little old to still have horse posters up in your bedroom, but this was a real change.

Posters of men in tight leather pants with piercings covered your bedroom walls. Your sensible synagogue clothes had been smushed in the back of your closet to make room for miniskirts and ripped-up band tees. Your father nearly passed out when he saw that not only was your tongue pierced but also your eyebrow on your precious face? When they asked you what spurred on this change, all they got was

“What? I’m not your little girl anymore.” Your new friend may have overstayed their welcome, playing loud, trashy metal and eating all your snacks, but it was with you when Jax, a tall, spindly emo with purple highlights, said he would teach you how to make out with someone. You were just barely getting to second base when your mom walked in with a plate of carrots and hummus and sharply kicked all the kids out.

The next few months were a living hell of wresting you out of baggy jeans so your parents wouldn’t be kicked out of Temple. For that, you would abide because you did enjoy faith and your relationship with god, but as soon as you got back to the apartment, you would smear makeup on and practice with your new shitty Yamaha.

Getting more immersed in alternatives styles and culture you started posting covers of Metallica and eventually Tokio Hotel. Your covers start gaining traction some for your musical finesse and others for your looks. Accidentally you get really famous in almost a few months. When you start making money off your live shows, your mom takes over as your manager. She didn't like her 9-5 anyway.

When your gigs start making enough money to pay the bills for your dad, he lightens up on his disdain for your art. Slowly, you begin jotting down poetry, posting short videos of you noodling on your old acoustic guitar. Slowly, you sign a one-album contract with Universal Music Germany. While you juggle school and micro-fame, you spend every weekend at their recording studio.

It's one warm May Saturday when you meet him. You're both reaching for the same bottle of Coca-Cola when you brush his hands.

"Oh, entschuldigung!' you chime and continue reaching for the glass bottle.

"Entschuldigung," his slightly deeper (although still mid-pubescent) voice echoes as he reaches for the bottle. Your hands wrap around the neck as you stand together. Twin eyes flick from the bottle to each other. You relinquish the bottle and take a step back.

"Oh, I just wanted some soda." You offer kind of weakly

"Yeah, it was getting hot in the recording booth." He replies

"Oh, you're an artist. I thought you were some spoiled singer kid." You bend over to look for a different soda in the refrigerator and find that all that's left is carbonated lemonade. You ignore the gut feeling that the boy with your soda is checking your ass out. "So, are you a soloist?" You crack off the lid and flick it into a nearby trashcan

"No," I'm the guitarist at Tokio Hotel." You choke on your drink. "You don't know who I am?"

"You're Tom Kaulitz?" Your voice cracks as you point at him. You give yourself a chance to study his face, the lip piercing, the dreads, the eyes. He looks more normal than his usual promotional photos.

"You've probably heard this before, but I'm a really big fan." His face shows a wash of emotions before he settles on a bit of a snide smile.

"Really?" He steps a little closer, turning up the charm

"So are you some rich spoiled little nepo-girl. Usually, they make pretty hot babies." with his soda at his waist, he lifts your chin to look him in the eyes. "I mean, you're pretty hot, so you must be." you lean against the wall and tilt your hips toward his.

"Nein, I'm an artist. You're not too bad looking yourself, Tom Kaulitz from Tokio Hotel." You slowly take the Coca-Cola from his hand and take a sip. He gulps at the sight of you holding eye contact as you swallow. Slightly, you hand him back the bottle and duck out of his hold. He watches in awe as you strut to your recording booth. Tom rakes a hand down his face as he watches your ass move, and his band members join him in the break room.

"Who's the babe?' Gustav slings an arm over his shoulder

"My future wife." Tom holds back from a whimper exiting his mouth

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #grunge #y2k #2000s emo #imagines #poser

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tessa-liam · 4 months ago

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Life Goes On

Marabelle Series

Chapter 15 – Part 2

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Choices/Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement

Chapter Summary – Liam returns home to Cordonia to find Sophie and to address his nation about the university terror attack.

Music & Title Inspiration: Life Goes On, Ed Sheeran, Luke Combs; Run To You, Lucy Thomas

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series.

Aboard the Royal jet, Rashad peered outside the window and took in the white sands of Cordonia's shores passing by. Suddenly his ears popped, and the pilot spoke over the intercom, announcing the estimated arrival time was in 5 minutes. He felt nervous and helpless and could not help but repeat his fears in his mind: ‘There hasn't been any good news’.

Drake watched Liam walk away from his seat, his hand curled around a glass tumbler filled with an expensive scotch. He wondered if they would hear news before they landed. Remembering his best friend's emotional spiral downward after the past assassination attempt three years ago at the palace; this had the makings of that same pattern. This time though, Drake was not going to leave Liam alone.

The dire problem of not having any clues where Sophie was at the moment was suffocating.

As they waited to land, the minutes seemed to draw out. There was not much he or any of Liam's guards could do but wait and prepare to offer the crown prince their full support.

Liam finished off his scotch, the fiery liquid barely registering, and tried to review the notes for his upcoming address to his nation in his head while stepping into his private suite onboard.

There had still been no update on his beloved Sophie's whereabouts or circumstances.

He took a deep, long breath and turned to Bastien walking next to him with unmistakable determination. "Bastien, contact the security team back home immediately. I need all the current details on the scene and an update on the rescue operations."

Bastien sprang into action, calling the security team leader and putting him on speakerphone so that Liam could hear the conversation in real time. Captain Sean Wilson answered the call.

"Captain, this is Crown Prince Liam Rys, requesting an update on the incident at the University of Cordonia." Liam's voice came through the phone speaker, clear and strong.

"Your Highness, the situation at the scene is complicated and we have deployed additional rescue teams to help facilitate the speedy rescue and recovery process.”

The captain’s voice was tired but remained professional. "We have confirmation that multiple students have been injured in the shooting. We have increased security three-fold around the campus and are working diligently to track down the suspects."

Liam's fists clenched involuntarily, but he remained stoic as he continued. "I need a complete list of all the known casualties. I want to know about each and every one."

"Your Highness, we have established a comprehensive emergency response mechanism. At present, we are compiling the information and rescue teams are working at full ability. The list of casualties is being urgently collated, and I will send it to you via encrypted channels as soon as it is completed."

Liam nodded, and though he could not be seen, there was an unmistakable insistence in his tone: "I need this completed as soon as possible. In addition, please continue to strengthen the search and rescue efforts to ensure the safety of all students. At the same time, increase the manpower to hunt down the suspects and I demand that they be brought to justice in the shortest possible time."

Shortly after hanging up, the sound of an encrypted email rang on Liam's tablet, which he quickly clicked on; and displayed a list of known casualties on the screen as asked. There were fourteen people in the column of the dead, and dozens of names in the column of the injured. Liam took a deep breath and began to go through the list of names, one by one, each name like a sharp blade, stabbing at his heart. He searched carefully, afraid to miss any possible detail. But until the end, he did not find Sophie's name.

Liam clenched his fists, his eyes shining with unshakeable determination. "Bastien, as soon as the jet lands, we will go to the scene and assess the situation personally.”

Bastien, at once responded: "Yes, Your Highness. I will ensure that everything is in place."

Liam turned his head to stare out the window at the clouds; his heart was in turmoil. Although Sophie's name did not appear on the list of casualties, his fears did not diminish. He knew that the lack of news did not mean that Sophie was necessarily safe. That she might still be struggling, or that for some reason she might not be able to communicate with the outside world. He had to ensure that Sophie was safe personally.

Thinking of this, he took out his phone and touched Sophie’s number with trembling fingers. But all he heard on the other end of the line was a cold, robotic voice: 'Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is unavailable.'

Sending a text, he carefully tapped every letter, as he expressed his worries and thoughts.

'Love, please call me as soon as you get this message. I'm worried about you.'

___

'Where are you? Are you safe? Why can't I reach you?'

___

'I'm already on my way back to Cordonia. Please wait for me. Please.'

As the minutes ticked by, the 'unread' message on the screen was an ironic and cruel reminder of the futility of all his efforts.

Frustrated, he then tried to call Sophie's aunt and then sent a text message to Maxwell. 'Max, are you okay? Where are you? Have you heard from Sophie?'

Shortly after, his phone vibrated and Liam checked the text immediately .... only to see Maxwell reply,

"Liam, me and Daniel are at the Malic Hotel now, we're all right. But Sophie got separated in the confusion!!!!😢 I have been trying to reach her without success. I'm really worried about her.'

Receiving this update, Liam, although still anxious, was also relieved that Maxwell felt safe. He immediately replied: "Max, good to hear you're okay. Please keep in touch, I'll be back as soon as I can, and we'll find Sophie together."

Liam then picked up his phone again and sent a text message to Sophie's Aunt Bethany:

'Duchess Bethany, this is Liam. How are you? Have you heard from Sophie? I am very concerned for her safety.'

A few minutes later, Bethany replied to his message: 'Your Highness, I'm fine, but Sophie hasn't been heard from since the ceremony. I am also anxiously awaiting her contact. Please try to not worry, I'm sure she will be all right'

Liam's heart sank to rock bottom as he closed his eyes, silently praying that she would be found safe and unharmed. At the same time, he also felt a deep sorrow for all the innocent victims of the attack. He understood as crown prince, he had the responsibility and obligation, along with his father, to ensure the security of the country and its people. This attack was an acute test of his leadership.

University of Cordonia, Capital

As Sophie wandered aimlessly through the maze of people, her eyes welled up. The adrenaline of an earlier escape from the auditorium faded and she felt more sadness, fear and heartache than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she could not control her emotions and tears ran down her cheeks. How she wished it all had been a bad dream, that she would wake up and find that it had all been a false alarm.

An hour later, Sophie and other surviving students and guests were evacuated in an orderly manner to a hotel outside of the campus, the Malic Hotel. The hotel was temporarily requisitioned as an emergency shelter and was surrounded by police and security personnel to ensure internal safety and order. But even so, there was an indescribable tension and unease still in the air.

Sophie had been assigned to room 302. The moment she stepped into her hotel room; Sophie could finally catch her breath. She sat wearily on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with empty eyes, but her mood could not be calmed. She was eager to know more about what happened at the graduation, especially the mysterious men in black masks, their identity, purpose and why they were there; all of these became lingering questions in her mind.

She instinctively wanted to turn on her phone, hoping to find some clue or news report that would at least give her a sense of what had happened. But reality threw icy water at her - her phone screen was broken and riddled with cracks. She quickly pressed the power button, but the screen only flickered a few times, and then no longer responded. Sophie's eyes flashed with despair, as her contact with the outside world was completely cut off.

Thoughts came like a flood. She missed her Aunt Bethany, who supported her no matter what she was going through, who gave her endless warmth and encouragement, and who always made her feel at home in Cordonia. At the same time, she missed her horse, Marabelle. Every time she mounted Marabelle's back and galloped across the wide fields of Ramsford, all her troubles seemed to go away with the wind. Marabelle's eyes were always full of trust and loyalty, and there was a tacit understanding between them without words. How she wished now that she could feel the freedom and joy of running with Marabelle again.

But most of all, she missed Liam. In this unknown and dangerous moment, how she wished he could be with her, give her support and comfort. Liam, the man she was in love with, who gave her strength. She had never been so impatient to see him, to feel safe in his arms.

Now, however, she could only face all this alone; tears in her eyes had slipped down once again. In addition to missing Liam, Sophie's mind was filled with anxiety about the attack. She did not know how many people had been injured or even killed in the attack; whether Candy and Tom would get better, or what was going on with Maxwell and Daniel. They were her friends and family, and their safety stuck with her. She prayed silently that they would be safe.

Amidst this anxiety, there was so many questions. Who were those men in black at the graduation? Why would they target innocent students? What is the purpose behind this attack?

What puzzled her even more was the emblem of the earth and the baby. What does it mean? What has it got to do with the attack?

Her mind was full of confusion and uneasiness, questions swirled with no answers in sight, leaving her breathless. She tried to piece together every detail of the night in her mind, hoping to remember a clue or an answer. But the images were fragmented, leaving her unable to grasp and put together any useful information.

"Liam ..." Sophia muttered under her breath. She recalled what Liam had said about what he had experienced as a young prince and the memories of an assassination attempt that had fear cutting through his heart like a sharp blade.

Exhaustion came flooding in, overwhelming all her thoughts and feelings. Sophie lay in bed, breathing smoothly and deeply, and her body relaxed, as if all her worries and pain had been temporarily released at that moment. She drifted off to sleep with all her doubts, uneasiness, sadness, and longing for Liam.

The Royal Palace, Cordonia

The press was relentless. Inside the throne room, King Constantine stood stoically, as members of the press core demanded answers about the campus attack. Constantine cleared his throat and addressed the press directly and with the assurance of his years of reign and released a statement:

“At this dark hour, I stand before you with profound grief and pain in my heart. Like many of you, I am mourning the lives lost today, and we pray for the wounded to make a full recovery.

While we grieve the senseless violence that struck our country, we are also furious with the loss and sorrow brought on by those responsible for this evil act. We cannot and will not tolerate the murder and harming of innocent lives simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Those who commit such unspeakable acts will be held accountable and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the crown.”

Stepping down from the dais, Constantine was at once escorted by his royal guard out of the throne room. He looked visibly shaken and gripped his cane, trying to stand straight and upright.

Constantine's face was pale, and his eyes were filled with deep sorrow, his elderly face looked worn. But he refused to shed tears, still maintaining his dignified manner, while in public.

Lawrence, his personal guard, moved quickly to his side, “Your Majesty, the Royal jet has just landed with your son.”

Malic Motor Hotel, temporary safe house, University of Cordonia

The second group of surviving students were transported to the Malic hotel in orderly batches by the police in the pre-dawn night. The bright lights in the lobby could not hide the tension and in these in the air. Police officers, security personnel and medical staff were busy shuttling through the hallways to ensure that every student was properly accommodated.

The noise of footsteps and a murmur of conversation broke the sounds of the night. Sophie woke up, opened her eyes slightly, and through a gap in the half-closed curtains. She saw several figures hurrying along the corridor, as if new survivors had been brought in. She got up and dressed. Soon the door was gently opened, and a figure slowly entered the room. It was a girl about Sophie's age, a little wobbly in her step, visibly shaken by the night's horror and still reeling from the shock.

"Hey, um ... excuse me. I was assigned to this room. Is it okay if I come in?" The girl's voice was small and trembling, and her eyes were slightly timid.

Sophie at once stood up and smiled back, "Hello, come on in." The girl came closer, and Sophie could see her face. She had an East Asian face, long deep brown hair, and large black eyes full of fear and confusion, as if she had just woken up from a nightmare.

The girl said softly, "thank you, my name is Hana. What happened tonight was terrible ..."

Sophie took Hana's hand and sat her down on the edge of the bed. "Hi Hana, my name is Sophie. I know we have been through the same horror. But it is all right now. We can talk together and maybe it will make you feel better." Sophie tried to sound calm and friendly, hoping to bring some comfort to the girl.

Hana gave Sophie a grateful look, and took a deep breath. She began with great determination to recount her own experience at the graduation.

"I was with friends and all of a sudden the lights went out and they were gunshots ... I tried to run away, but there were screams and chaos all around me. I really don't know how I got out. I was taken to the stadium with some people and stayed there almost overnight until we were brought here. But I never saw my friends again. I got separated from them, I do not know what became of them..." Hana wiped tears from her eyes.

Sophie listened quietly, with a surge of sympathy and understanding. She thought of her friends Candy and Tom, and her cousin Maxwell and Daniel, and a pang of worry filled her heart.

"Hana, I've had my own friends injured and go missing too. Candy's arm was hit by shrapnel, Tom was shot in the shoulder, and they are both in the hospital; and Maxwell and Daniel got separated from me when they escaped. I am really worried about them. But I'm sure they will be all right. Your friends must have gotten out safely, too. You must believe that."

Hana's eyes flashed with emotion and trust as she listened to Sophie's words. "Sophie, you are such a strong person. If only I could be as brave as you."

Sophie patted Hana's arm gently and smiled wryly.

"Hana, it's normal to be afraid in this situation. In fact, I am also afraid, and all the people who have been through this attack."

Then Sophie's tone became a little heavier, and she decided to tell Hana what she had seen. With that, Sophie picked up the paper and pen on the table in the room and drew the sign from memory. Hana's face turned pale when she saw Sophie's drawing; her eyes widened, and she repeated in disbelief, "you saw this sign?"

Sophie nodded, her words unmistakable, "Yes, I'm sure. It was a very strange sign. I saw it clearly. They acted quickly and in an orderly manner. They were not ordinary thugs."

Hana held Sophie's hand tightly, her voice shaking slightly. "This sign, I have seen on the news, but with what specific event, I can't remember. However, it is definitely unusual and must be the hallmark of an organisation or group."

Sophie's eyes sharpened, and she frowned in thought. "This is no coincidence. The men in black were clearly prepared, and their attack may well have been targeted. We must tell the police about this as soon as possible.”

Hana shuddered, her voice filled with fear and worry. "But... will that put us in danger? If they are really that powerful, will they retaliate?"

Sophie's heartrate quickened. Of course she was afraid. The scene of Candy and Tom being shot and wounded replayed again before her eyes. The blood staining their shirts, the pain and helplessness weaving in their desperate eyes. These were images that she could never forget.

Then, in her mind, the panic of people running away, their faces showing fear and helplessness. Screams, cries, and pleas for help made up the most tragic symphony of the night. Fires were burning, the smoke was billowing, and the whole evening was enveloped in despair and confusion.

But thinking of the students who had been victimized, of Maxwell and Daniel who were still missing, and of Candy and Tom who were still in the hospital ... Sophie took a deep breath and quieted her heart. She could not let her fear consume her. She knew that her friends needed her. ... 'If you do not step up, Sophie, this kind of tragedy will happen again.'

Sophie stiffened her resolve, her voice was soft, yet powerful: "No, Hana, we cannot stay quiet. Candy, Tom, and your friends are just some of the many people who were hurt tonight. If we stay silent because we are afraid, more people will be hurt in the future. We can't let this continue to happen."

Hana's fear was replaced by a kind of courage as she listened to Sophie's words. "You're right, Sophie. I won't back down," She nodded firmly.

"Sophie, I'm so happy to meet you." Hana looked sheepishly at Sophie, blushing.

"If it wasn't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

She touched Hana's arm and smiled, "I know you have determination, too, Hana." Sophie was genuinely happy ... happy to be friends with Hana.

Sophie hesitated for a moment, then whispered to Hana, "Hana,can you show me the news? My phone broke during the attack." She pulled out her cracked cell phone.

Hana nodded, and picked up her phone from the nightstand to open the news app. Together, they stared at the small screen, searching for news related to last night's university shooting.

On the screen, several shocking reports soon came into view. The mass shooting at the University of Cordonia had attracted widespread attention from the national and international community. The report detailed the chaos and bloodshed of the night, but also said that the police were fully investigating the incident and promised to bring the perpetrators to justice as soon as possible. As she read, she felt mixed feelings.

Sophie continued browsing. Suddenly, a marked headline hit her eyes and made her heart beat faster. --

"Crown Prince Liam Rys urgently ends his visit to Italy and returns home to respond to the shooting incident at Cordonia University."

She tapped eagerly; the live broadcast of the news began automatically.

On the screen, Liam stood in the doorway of the familiar white, shadowy auditorium, behind which the smoke had not fully cleared and live images of ambulances and police cars could be seen. Liam's figure stood unwavering behind press microphones.. He wore a black suit, his eyes were slightly solemn, but his face was more resolute and decided, that could not be ignored.

Sophie stared intently at the screen, every subtle expression of Liam tugging at her heartstrings. His voice came clearly over the phone, calm and strong.

Sophie's eyes were red and brimmed with tears. Her heart was racing, as she felt Liam's deep emotion coming through the screen. And then Liam's words turned to unquestioning determination:

Sophie stared at the screen, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. The moment she heard him say the words, 'Our Cordonian family', her heart swelling with indescribable excitement and pride; she wanted to run to his side and face all of this with him. However, this emotion was quickly overcome by reason, knowing that she could not expose her relationship with Liam, especially when there were other people around watching. She gently turned down the volume on the phone for fear that Hana would notice her emotional reactions. She clutched the phone tightly, as if she could feel Liam's presence and power in her hand.

"Sophie, what's wrong?"

Hana's voice sounded softly, interrupting her thoughts. Sophie suddenly came back to herself with a disguised smile, trying to sound natural. "Oh, nothing, I just didn't expect Prince Liam to be back so soon, it's only been a few hours since the shooting."

There was a subtle tremor in Sophie's words, afraid that her mind would be read by Hana and cause unnecessary trouble for Liam. She knew that at this particular moment she had to be careful not to reveal her relationship with Liam.

"Hana, could I possibly use your phone again? I want to send a text to my family and tell them about my situation."

Hana heard her words, a flicker of concern in her eyes. She seemed aware of Sophie's inner struggle and longing, but out of respect and trust, she did not ask any more questions, just smiled and nodded, "Of course, Sophie." You can use it whenever you need."

Sophie gave Hana a grateful look, and a warm wave came through her heart. She quickly opened the text messages on the phone, her fingers jumping over the keyboard, as she sent two messages. The first one to Aunt Bethany and the second one to Maxwell. In the text messages, Sophie told them that she was doing well and that they should not worry. She expressed concern for Maxwell and Daniel and hoped they were safe.

After sending the two texts, Sophie took a deep breath and began her text to Liam. She edited the text carefully ...

"Hi, Li, this is Sophie.

I'm all right. I am in Room 302 at the Malic Hotel at the university.

There was a shooting at the graduation, and I was lucky to escape. My phone is broken, and now I'm texting you on my roommate, Hana's phone.

I know you must be terribly busy and worried at the moment, but please believe me, I am fine and safe.

Don't worry about me. Just focus on what's needed right in front of you. I love you and look forward to seeing you soon."

The message didn't mention Liam's real name, and Sophie was confident that he would get her message. After pressing the send button, the words "Delivered" appeared on the screen. Suppressing her feelings, she quickly removed the text message, making sure it left no trace.

It didn’t take long for Sophie to hear back from Maxwell and Aunt Bethany.

Maxwell:

“Sophie, it’s so good to hear from you! Daniel and I are at the Malic Hotel too, and we are doing fine. We were looking for you, too. Just relieved to hear you are okay. We’ll talk more when we meet up.”

Aunt Bethany:

“Dear Sophie, I’m so happy to hear from you! Thank God you are okay. We are all so worried about you, but now we can relax. Be safe and we will see each other soon.”

After receiving notifications of incoming messages, the corners of her mouth cannot help but raise in a happy smile, a big stone in her heart finally fell to the ground. Sophie held the phone and re-read their loving words, feeling the warmth and support from her family.

A ray of sunlight penetrated a gap in the curtain and gently spilled into the hotel room, shining on Sophie's face. She gently closed her eyes, quietly feeling the warmth of the sun, the soft light made her very at ease, like a pair of warm hands, smoothing her fear and anxiety away. She was relieved that Maxwell and Daniel had escaped safely and that she could tell Aunt Bethany about herself.

And Liam will know that she's safe. Sophie found a trace of comfort and strength in reaching out to him.

"Thank you, Hana." Sophie smiled and handed the phone back to her new friend.

Hana took the phone and put it away, quietly watching it all, with a warm glow in her eyes. She may not know the story between Sophie and Liam, but she could sense that there was a deep emotion and connection with him in Sophie's heart. In this time of uncertainty, they were supporting each other and facing life's challenges together.

Cordonia International Airport

The Royal motorcade was situated on the tarmac in wait to take Liam and his men to the university.

Liam strode quickly and confidently to his SUV after his security detail had provided Liam with a report of all the victims and fatalities. Sophie's name was not listed, and Liam's heart remained uncertain, until he saw her with his own eyes.

His duty of keeping alert and informed for his country allowed Liam to control his fears of the possibility of seeing his beloved injured or worse. He fought against every fiber of his being to not burst through the chaos, with full disregard, to search for Sophie among the evacuated students. Liam, surrounded by his royal guard, Drake and Rashad, he walked onto the university grounds.

Drake, on the other hand, was not worried about propriety and cared for none of it. He rushed in and did not pay attention to anything but finding Sophie and Maxwell. He broke past some of the law enforcement and was met by a swarm of flashing cameras and press microphones.

"Back away!" He snapped, having to put his forearm up, and not relent. The flashing bulbs, whirring of camera lenses and questions being thrown at him was enough to drive any sane person mad.

"Don't you have decency? What type of scoundrels and fiends are you?"

An officer who recognized Drake, yelled, "settle down, everyone, he's an American friend of the prince's, stand down and don't crowd him."

On the campus of the University of Cordonia, even after several hours had passed, the chaos in the auditorium had not abated by a minute. Several police cars and ambulances, flashing their warning lights, stood by the side of the road at the ready. Police officers and ambulance workers were busy moving around the scene, serious and focused, although physically and mentally exhausted, but still stuck to their posts, to deal with the incident.

A police cordon has been placed around the scene to seal off the auditorium from the outside world. Liam saw the chaos and destruction ... and the despair of his people.

Liam took a deep breath, adjusted his emotions, and walked resolutely into the crowd and up onto the raised dais. The crowd grew quiet, and all eyes turned to the crown prince.

" Last night, our university campus has experienced an unprecedented trauma. On behalf of the royal family of Cordonia, I extend my sincere comfort and deepest condolences to all those who have been hurt and who have been affected by this tragedy. Your pain is the pain of all Cordonia. We will do everything possible to provide the necessary support and needed assistance to make sure everyone gets through this."

At this point, Liam's eyes flashed a subtle tenderness, that is his endless miss and love for Sophie.

But Liam took a deep breath and condensed his emotions and anger into a powerful determination.

"We will not sit idly by and let go of any of these terrorists. I promise that the Crown will use all resources in its power to track down the attackers and punish those responsible for this tragedy. We will bring justice to the victims, and to our people, to our Cordonian family."

***

The sky in the east gradually lightened as the night slowly faded; like the tide falling, as if in response to his words. A ray of dawn pierced the darkness, and the sun rose at last. The golden light slowly and gently spread over the campus, silently dispelling the darkness and cold; to bring a touch of warmth to the morning. There was renewed trust and hope in the eyes of the crowd. At this moment, they are silently praying, their hearts are full of deep hope: may such a tragedy never be repeated, so that the dead can rest in peace, and so that the living can find the strength to move forward; In the hope that the murderer will be punished, and there will be no hiding places of any crimes and evils.

As the Royal guard escorted Liam from the stage, Bastien approached with Liam’s mobile phone in hand.

“Sir, Lady Sophia has left you a message.”

Thanks for reading ❣️

@choicesficwriterscreations

@selina012

📌tags in the comments, please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#tessa liam writes #the royal romance #liam rys #trr fanfic #trr #sophie taylor #drake walker #marabelle #choices fic writers creations #cfwc #crown prince liam rys #prince liam #life goes on #maxwell beaumont #hana lee

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a-night-like--this · 1 year ago

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Thrilled to be sharing this stunning piece of work with you today entitled 'ENDSONG' generously created for our #anonartproject by a mystery artist. This is 1 of 4 pieces by this musician which will be available to bid on from 3- 12 November

— The HeART Project

#the cure #robert smith #art #heart project #charity #british heart foundation #heart research uk #anon art project #endsong #songs of a lost world #music #alternative rock #gothic rock #new wave #post punk #2020s #2023

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 9 months ago

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Beneath Miles of Stone - Part Twenty - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: kind of kidnapping if you squint ; mentions of death ; violence ; angst ; nsfw kudos to @scarlettspectra and @lilspookymeh for being music gurus and basically inspiring my entire writing playlist ❤️

“John, I can’t stay here - I have work, Michael.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

She scowls at the way he talks to her like a petulant child, looks over at Winston for help and finds none.

“You can’t make me stay here,” she grits.

He fixes her with a dark, mean look, clears the distance between them in one stride, and grabs her before she can think about running. “I can make you stay, but I don’t want to have to do that.”

He’s really just springing this on her. Because the death of Maria puts a target on his back and therefore a smaller one on hers, John thinks the best solution is keeping her locked in the safe house that is Winston’s massive hotel. No consulting her, no talking about options. Just cut and dry. Do as I say. She’s offered alternative solutions, even - “I’ll walk around with Victor’s - sorry, Viggo’s - bodyguards at my side!” - because, of course, her having a private little secret service of her own is now unnegotiable, too. Imagine that.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she retorts, voice quiet despite her lionhearted words.

“I’m not speaking in metaphors,” John says, “you’re staying here. Either way. I need you safe.”

She tries to tear her arm from his grip, but it’s like attempting to wrestle with a gorilla. “So what? I’m just supposed to stay locked up in your gilded cage and forget I have a life?”

He loosens his hold a little bit, lets her puffy flesh spring back from bruising, and softens, hard rock eyes turning molten. Still, there is fire involved. “You can hate me if you want. You don’t have to look at me or speak to me, but I’m responsible for your safety, now. I need you unharmed.”

Ah, there it is again, that fucking pang in her heart that leaves her whole being bloodless and aching when he reminds her why she’s ultimately here - pity.

Sure, he’s told her otherwise a thousand times now, and his actions are testament to how much he wants her, but that admittance is all she needs to start thinking she’s a charity case again.

Tears swell her eyes.

She can’t believe they’ve gone from bliss to this in such a short amount of time. And now what? She’s trapped here and humiliated? Pitied?

“No, I didn’t-“

“Yeah you did,” she whispers, looking down at the shiny dark floor, watching little tear droplets accumulate on its surface.

He lets her pull away and gathers every ounce of his willpower to avoid following as she walks out of the room and into the bustling hotel.

“That went well,” Winston comments, flipping through the manila envelope of witness statements.

His knuckles ache to punch something. Marcus isright here, downing scotch like it’s his last day on earth - maybe he thinks it is - one little punch wouldn’t hurt him.

More willpower used up to not hit Marcus. He decides to leave the room instead.

Marcus thinks he did it. Winston might as well think so, too. The eight witnesses that put him at the location say he did.

The only person that knows he didn’t do it - because he was instead with her when he supposedly took a round trip flight to El Paso and fixed a bullet into Maria’s skull - wants nothing to do with him when the only thing he wants is to curl up beside her and lament.

He needs an outlet.

———————————

“You need to call the police,” Michael tells her. His voice fades away for a minute while she hears rummaging in the background.

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble Michael. It’s not like I’m being tortured or something.”

“And?”

“It wouldn’t matter.”

“I don’t know, they could probably come get you out of there?”

“I don’t think cops come here, Michael. I don’t think they’re allowed to be here.”

He pauses for dramatic effect, probably. She’s glad she called him. His usual antics calm her. “They’re not allowed to tear gas peaceful protesters either, but….. ”

“No, I think they kill them here.”

“Sneak out,” Michael concludes.

“That’s my next bid.”

“Damn, your pussy must be god tier if this man is kidnapping you, though.”

She rolls her eyes.

“What?! I’m just saying!” She hears the no good grin and it puts a smile on her face.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna pay rent, Michael. I told work, but they’re probably going to fire me - if they even believe me - and then I won’t have income to pay my share-“

“ Are you serious?” Michael sighs. “You’ve just been kidnapped and you’re worried about me ? Babe, stop.”

“We made a deal Michael, and all I’ve done is fuck it up.”

“Worry about getting out of there, and we’ll sort it out once you’re free of crazy boyfriend.”

“He’s not crazy,” she tries, “he’s just… worried.”

“Uh-huh.” Michael takes another pause. “Anyway, what is this place called?”

“You are not coming here, Michael. You’ll get hurt.”

“Why? I’m not a cop.”

“Michael.”

“Right, right. You’re living the mystery novel life. Is it wrong that I’m a little jealous?”

“No, I guess not. He just kind of makes it seem like he has to keep me here. I feel like a burden.”

“ You ? Feeling like a burden ?” The sharp sarcasm in his voice cuts. “Have you tried telling him that?”

“Well, no, but I’m scared.”

Michael sighs. “Jesus, hun, I’m not sure what to tell you here. Sounds like he’s a little bit dysfunctional. Maybe he’s just not ready for a relationship. I mean, he has to know that holding you against your will isn’t okay.”

She sighs back. It’s like their own little angsty language. “It’s not like I’m normal.”

“Ah, so maybe the darkness in you calls to the darkness in him?” Michael sounds like he’s reciting breathy Shakespeare.

She laughs.

——————-

The Continental is massive, shimmering, crystal chandeliers and intricate, antique carpets.

Spotless, open, airy, a few delicate plants dotted about. Every room or hallway or lobby she enters feels too big - like she’s a kid again, tiny in proportion to everything else. Even the elevators gold and glimmer and loom.

Private clubs with massive polished oak doors to guard against entry, workers in perfectly tailored suits everywhere; one around each corner, in the bars and shops, diligent and watching.

If she had any hope before of getting out of here, now she definitely doesn’t. Seems like every exit has an individual posted on it who would put Benny’s hulking mass to shame.

She sees a woman who is taller than John, in a sleeveless tuxedo dress, muscles rippling over her shoulders and neck. She doesn’t think she has ever envied or admired someone so much. Despite the bodybuilder physique, this towering lady moves like flowing water. She just stares at her for a few minutes, entranced by the otherworldly beauty. How can he even think of liking her when women like this live and breathe?

It’s easy to forget the outside world exists, here. But, she stills feels trapped - heralded off to some magical realm where everyone has a gun tucked under their shirt instead of a magic wand.

She gets lost in the place, always expecting John to be waiting for her around corners or down a hallway. He’s not, though, instead leaving her alone like he said he would. That pisses her off and disappoints her a little bit; she wants him to follow her, fight for her, extinguish her flame of independence, which must mean there’s seriously something wrong here. He can’t just lock her up and then leave.

Ignoring the empty John shaped space in her gut, she walks until she finds the library. Wall to wall shelves, rolling ladders carved in intricate, braided designs, a few cozy reading nooks. Librarian fantasy says hello.

She scowls at the thought, goes to the fairytale section, lying to herself about thinking of John in this instance, too.

As chance would have it, someone she recognizes is here. The older woman from the bookstore in the mall, still sans reading glasses, squinting at the cover of a worn yellow hardback.

“Do you need some help with that?”

“Oh, my dear, nice to see you again.” There is an air of poise about this woman even in her shortcomings. She hands the book delicately to her rescuer, smiling softly. “Would you mind?”

“Oh,” she thumbs the cover, feels the carved gold letters on the front. “This is Alice in Wonderland.”

“Lewis Carroll?”

“Yeah, I can tell you about this without even reading it.” She grins, cheeks puffing, pleased to have someone familiar here.

The woman takes the book from her hands and sticks it back. “As interesting as Alice in Wonderland is, I’d much rather talk to you. You don’t belong here, do you? In a place like this?”

She looks down at her feet. “Ah, no.” Really, she could pose the same question, but she finds herself unsurprised that nice stranger books in this hotel. Maybe it was the men in suits at her side. Maybe it’s because she’s used to this by now - fitting in nicely, snug as a bug in a rug. Meant for the underground.

“So why are you here, dear?”

They end up sitting in one of the lounges. She offers to go grab them both tea, paying for it and tipping despite hospitality, and then settles in to talk. This woman reminds of her of Winston, or like one of the kind, witty grandmothers from sparse foster homes. No matter how mean the rest of the family was, usually the elders were double kind to make up for it.

She ends up telling her small things. Not too much, but more than she can Michael. This woman is already involved in the ancient crime world, so she feels like she can divulge more info. Plus, she’s confident that anyone here could just type her name into some imaginary database and bring up every detail about her, anyway.

“Ah, John Wick, Boogeyman.”

“People keep calling him that. I don’t think he’s that scary.”

The woman laughs. “I don’t know, I’ve only heard. Never met.”

“Well, he’s actually nice,” she supplies, sipping her hibiscus tea. “Stubborn, but nice.”

“And he’s keeping you here to protect you, so he can’t be all bad.”

“Yeah… we’ll go with that.”

The woman laughs. “Oh, there is a fire in you. Misplaced, but a fire all the same.”

“Misplaced?”

“You desire hardness, outer armor, to be strong, but you don’t realize that your true power comes from your softness.”

“I’m tougher than I look.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Her contemplative eyes assess the cementing posture.

“Sorry, I’m just. I’m irritated that I have to stay here.” She drops her shoulders, relaxes her jaw.

“You’ve got a free spirit. You remind me of someone I once knew.”

“Was it you?” She smiles again.

“Indeed. Unfortunately, this old bird had her wings clipped long ago.”

“Your wings are massive and amazing, still.”

The elder beams at her. “You know, my children think I’m out of my mind.”

“Huh? But you’re not.”

She shrugs. “They want my empire. I suppose I am getting older - should probably relinquish it sooner rather than later.”

Just like with John, she feels that deep dive questions would be too forthcoming and intrusive here. “So, they’re making up stuff to get it? Sounds like your kids aren’t that great.”

“Ah, but isn’t that my fault if they are not great, then?” She sighs and leans back into cushions that swallow her small frame.

This is a hard question. She’s spent a lifetime blaming foster parents for fucking her up so much.

“See? You can’t argue with that.” Her crinkled smile widens.

“Mistakes are mistakes. The past doesn’t define the future. You do seem lovely now, regardless of what happened when they were kids.”

“What do you do for work, my darling?”

“I’m a nurse.”

——————————-

After talking for a long time with Ella, her mystery bookstore friend, she goes to knock on Winston’s study door, surprised she can even find it again. It takes a while, and she gets completely lost in the process.

“Won’t find him in there. I think he’s downstairs. Do you need something?” She turns to find a tall, tattooed, beautiful woman folding linens onto a silver cart.

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to him. Sorry.”

“You’re John’s girl?” She holds out a hand, gives a soft smile. “I’m a good friend of his.”

Why in the hell can’t she repress the jealousy raging inside her as she takes this absolutely gorgeous woman’s hand in her own? “Uh, yeah.” She resists asking how everyone seems to know what she looks like and who she belongs to. Maybe it’s just that distinguishable? John Wick with a fat girlfriend.

Ouch . Back to hurting her own feelings again.

“Oh, it’s really nice to meet you. A friend of John’s is a friend of mine. I’m a bell hop, trying to work my way up into bartender. They make more money.” She fixes her pile of cloth and then looks up as if forgetting something. “I’m Addie.”

She’s at a loss for words, feels incredibly sheepish around this girl for no reason - exposed and open, ready for final judgement. Harrowing.

She introduces herself back despite trepidation and tries to give a warmer smile than she’s capable of right now. “Oh, that’s cool. You like bartending?”

Addie laughs at some inside joke. “Oh, God no. Not in this city. But in the hotel, it’s great. Not many other bar owners will let you punch their customers for getting too handsy.”

She laughs. “Serves them right.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Addie smooths over a crisp sheet. “But how did you meet John?”

Oh, the million dollar embarrassing question. “The prison. I was his nurse.”

“Oh, that’s cute as hell.” Addie’s melodic giggle helps lower her raised haunches. “He hasn’t gone steady in a minute. I’m glad he’s happy. I’ve known him since we were kids, I mean, and he hasn’t been this sunshiny in a long time.”

Ah, another one of John Wick’s long time friends. “He’s a pretty good guy.”

Addie nods. “Ah, we’re not passing the bechdel test.”

She chuckles. “You’re right.”

“We will next time, promise. I gotta get back to work.” Addie gives her a wink and then she’s off. She calls back over her shoulder, “I’ll tell Winston you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks, but you don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Addie grins back. “He’s not busy.”

—————————

She gets lost a few more times, maybe just maybe hoping for a tall, dark hero to come swoop her up and apologize. She’s more disappointed than she should be when that doesn’t happen.

But, she does run into Charon again when she finds the front entrance.

He gives her a small smile. “I trust you are finding the provisions here adequate, Miss?”

She leans on his counter, emboldened by the lack of patrons in the lobby. “Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“I was in the library, and I saw the book with you in it. Behind the big glass display case, you know? You were in an orchestra in the pictures. Do you play… cello, right?”

“That’s correct. Well, was correct. I haven’t played in several years. Do you play?”

“Ah, no.” She shrugs. “I just saw you in there and you looked amazing. Like really in your element.”

“Do I look.. out of my element now?” His head tilts, smile broadening.

“No, no, not at all.” Her eyebrows furrow. “Sorry, I just meant - you really looked like you loved it.”

“I did. It was exhilarating.”

“Why don’t you do it anymore?”

“I suppose I just got busy with other duties. I enjoy working at the hotel. The light of the stage was wonderful for a while, but I realized I was meant for a quieter fate. One with less excitement.”

“This is less excitement?” She gestures around.

“Continental ground is sacred. We rarely have to take action against our guests for violence.” He pauses. “I know your experience has indicated otherwise.”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t-“

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” His pleasant smile still lingers as testament to that. “It’s alright to be curious. Ask me anything you want.”

She does. She asks who can stay here, who is not allowed to stay here, how long it’s been around, who built it. She asks him about the cello, if his hands got scarred, if he would play again at some point so she could come to his concert.

Charon is infinitely interesting, sports the same dark humor that John does, and she chats with him until he gets customers.

—————————

John stays gone. All day, all night. The more time goes by, the more anxious she gets. She should be angry, seething, but instead she just wants him to be okay, to come back to her. She’s grown so miserably attached to this elusive man, and the insanity that goes with that attachment is eating at her like swarms of locusts on fresh fields of grain.

—————————

He’s all bruised knuckles and blood flecked, sinew and tendon and vein. The smell of diesel and sweet liquor and heavy iron. She can’t help but peak at him from under the comforter while he undresses.

“Good morning.”

Of course he knows. He’s got sonic radar. She flushes, and doesn’t answer him.

“I’d ask if you want to join me in the shower, but that would make me a bigger asshole.”

“I don’t remember even saying you could stay in the same room as me anymore,” she grumbles, shifting under the blanket so a few of her toes peak from the end.

He resists tickling her.

“You’re right. Let me take this shower, and I’ll book another one.”

“Are you rich?” She asks.

“I have money.”

“Like, rich money?”

He raises a dark eyebrow and looks far too good standing nude and bruised on the cold hardwood.

“Does it matter?”

“I feel like you’re trying to buy me off.”

He snorts, rubs a flexing hand down his abdomen and yawns. God, he’s fucking delectable. “Would it work?”

“Fuck you, John.” She tries to make her words hurt, but they’re half assed and weak.

He’s got a smile that makes her seethe and clench at once. Infuriating bastard.

“Want me to fix that attitude with my tongue?” He offers, watches her toes curl up as she turns the other way and becomes a smaller mound under the covers.

“I want you to go away.”

He gives her credit for the control in her thickened voice. Saliva, always giving her away.

“You got it.”

When the bathroom door shuts, she flings the blanket off and goes to get breakfast. For herself.

Winston catches her in the dining room. “Do the clothes I sent up fit?” He asks.

“Yeah, they do. Thank you. I appreciate it.” She looks distraught, out of element.

He hums and threads her arm with his, walking with her to the serving bar. “I’m sure he’ll take you to get your clothes and toiletries soon,” Winston promises. “I offered to have Charon escort you, but Johnathan seems to have faith in your ability to weasel away.”

She huffs a laugh. “I’m not promising I wouldn’t try to escape.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No, I get it, he’s a bully.”

“Ah, can’t say it’s entirely his fault. I’m concerned for your safety, too.” Winston sits with her as she orders cheesy eggs and toast and orange juice.

“If he would have just explained it better, maybe I would have compromised.”

“Unless you know how to kill someone, I’m afraid there’s little compromise for you here.” Winston pauses, rubbing at the slick surface of the bar top.

“I’m still mad at him.” She’s not sure why she feels so comfortable talking to Winston about her relationship problems, but the man is more than happy to chat and advise.

“I can understand that. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Scott, you’ve already done so much. I’m sorry for being like this.”

He smiles warmly, amusement cresting the crinkles of his face.

Normally, she’s wary of being touched, but there is nothing except reassurance in Winston’s hand rested over hers. “My dear, you are human. Flesh and bone. Your feelings and emotions are your power, no matter how overwhelming they may become. Never forget that.”

She feels a little like she has stepped from the mortal realm into fae territory. Everything shines and dazzles, wise figures give her hopeful advice, and there is a beautiful, inhuman man terrorizing her with a small grin from across the room.

She quickly looks away from John, and Winston of course notices the pick up in nerves.

“Do you want me to kick him out?” He asks her.

She giggles. “Will he leave?”

“It’s worth a try.”

Avoiding John Wick is kind of like being a moth who hates light.

When he looks at her, she’s looking at him. And vice versa. She tries to eat, but feels too nervous to finish with coal eyes burning the endless fire in her belly, asks for a to go box and gulps the rest of her orange juice down.

He watches her while she walks out, sipping his black coffee, unabashedly staring directly at her beautiful bottom.

“I’ve thought about it,” Winston tells him, taking the seat across the table. “And I believe you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” John asks.

Winston ignores his sour mood. “Someone is trying to frame you, Johnathan. Someone wants you dead. With eight witnesses, the high table will come for you. Especially concerning the public knowledge that Maria put a bounty on your head. This is a war that ends one way.”

“I know.”

“So, do something.”

————————-

“I’m sorry.”

She turns around to find him leaning into the door jam.

“I told you I wasn’t good at this.” He motions between them. “But that’s no excuse to be an asshole.”

“I’m not good at it either, in case you didn’t notice,” she replies dryly.

“If you get hurt, I’m not sure what I’ll do,” he admits.

“But I can’t live like a clipped bird, John. And you’re just so forceful about it. I can’t get a word in when your mind is set. Michael has been nothing but good to me, and now I’m bailing on him. I like my job. It makes me feel like I have a purpose.”

“It’s not forever, just until I can figure this out.”

“Is it really that dangerous? If it is why did we start this in the first place?” That kind of sounds like she regrets the relationship, so she doubles back. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I would gladly meet you again and again, even if it meant more hardship, John, but I can’t just leave my old life.”

He gives a deep, baritone sigh, running hands through his damp hair.

She gets a little waft of the delicious shampoo he used, and itches to go to him.

“Just give me a day. One day. I’m going to fix this, and I need you to trust me.”

She eyes him, makes him feel vulnerable - raw - with the power of her stare.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” It sounds more like a plead than a demand, so she provides.

“Are you just doing this because you feel like you have to? Am I inconveniencing your life even more?”

He looks at her for a very long time.

Then, pads over and tips her chin up with his fingers. “I live in a dangerous world. I’m scared to lose you in its chaos.”

“But is it out of obligation or-“

“It’s because I need you.”

“You need me?”

He presses his forehead against her own. “Yes.” There is frustration in his voice.

She cradles the back of his head, inhaling spice and salt, quiet and still. Some kind of storm will rage and destroy her later, but for now she can keep it at bay while he is folding her up and pressing her into the bed.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” she says, trying not to lose her resolve in the delicious wet of his mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, lips trailing the sensitive bridge of her ear.

She doesn’t. Lets him gather her hair back and lick behind her lobe, turn her into a quivering little mess of a human clinging to his sweatshirt.

He can’t get enough of her in his mouth at once, uses his hands to make up for the loss, cups her tummy and groans at how soft she is. God, he could just sink right into her and never come out.

“This is all I wanna do,” he says. “Every time I look at you, you just get more tempting. That cute little smile, pretty skin, soft little body. Who sent you here to destroy me?”

“Th-the FBI.” She’s smiling that sunshine smile, animosity an afterthought, pulling at her new fixation which happens to be his velvet hair, rubbing her fingers into his scalp.

His cock gives a little jump against her thigh, and he vibrates for her again. Ah, of course it’s the hair.

“You like it when I play with your hair?” She asks, voice hitched high and tight as he sucks down her neck.

“Yeah,” he admits.

“I uh, yeah, l-like your hair, Johnny.” She sloppily threads a strand around her fingers, tugging just a little.

And to think he was contemplating getting another buzz cut because of this mess always being in his face. Not now. Now he would never cut it again. Now it was his pride and fucking joy.

He snakes his hands under her shirt, rubs at her bare tummy, pulls and feels and groans about how fucking pillowy she is - about how a bullet would probably just bounce right off of her.

“Fuck, I love this,” he says, making her giggle and grab his fingers.

“Tickles,” she tells him.

Immune to bullets, but not to soft fingers digging into her plump. He can’t help the hells grin while he indulges himself and makes her a giggly, frantic mess. “Where you going? Huh?” Chasing her up the bed, pressing her against the pillows, making her scream and curse his name.

Only a little bit of fun, and then he’s kissing her ribs, pulling her bra up to let these beautiful tits flop in his face so he can nuzzle between them. Giggles into moans, the chant of her hips matching the rhythm of mewling sounds.

“You’re so fuckin sweet.”

Her hands make their way back to his hair.

Big cock pressing and grinding into her giving thigh, fingers running circles around her areolas to tease, mouth nipping at the tips of her breasts.

He gets her begging, whining, needs her to ask him for it.

“Pretty girl wants to cum on my tongue again, huh?”

“Yeah.” Little shimmering tears in her lashes, lips all puffy and big just like her nipples.

“Tell me. Tell me, babydoll.”

Flooding with hot embarrassment, biting her lip, trying not to crumble and break, she does her best for him, tries her hardest to make him happy. “John, make me cum. Please.”

It’s not good enough. “Ah, ah,” he scolds. “Make you cum on what?”

“Y-your tongue. Want your tongue. Please, fuck.”

“There you go.” And how could he ever fucking say no?

How could he not spend a decade between these comfy thighs eating her sweet puffy cunt nice and slow.

Fucking her on his fingers, tickling her little clit with his tongue and making her her hips spark up off the bed, giving her rug burn on top of rug burn while she pulls his hair and curses his wicked mouth. Sometimes it hurts, especially like now when she’s too drunk on his mouth to be careful or sweet - and he fucking loves it.

He may never be able to convince her that he’s sorry with words, but he can still use his mouth to accomplish the same goal.

By the sounds of it, she, at least for now, forgives him.

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