#and I feel like there is at least one every episode

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 9

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual, I've been sick in bed for a good couple of days and didn't have as much time to write as usual.

Content Warnings: Talk of Depression/Depressive Episodes; Reader Gets Drugged.

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The Trajan Markets are the pinnacle of growth and development in the Capital, a sign the people said that the Gods favored us above all others. No other province grew as ours does. No other nation boasted such booms in business that a five story building need be built for the sole purpose of selling goods. Our streets have become too crowded, markets overflowing with buyers and sellers until the roads clog and the city becomes too rowdy during peak times of the day. There are other Markets in the city of course, but none as grand as Trajan.

None as easy to hide in as Trajan. 

I keep my hood pulled up over my face, a full basket in one hand, the other tapping anxiously along the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh. The crowds are heavy, the summer air thick with the smell of sweat and incense and the roasted meat from the food stalls. The heavy din of haggling and bartering makes the pounding of my heart sound far more dull than it had on the crazed dash I’d made to get here. Ditching the Guard to come out had been a challenge; dodging Anise a military feat I think might have made even Cassian proud. Not that Cassian knew I’d left. Or any of my mates for that matter. They would be too recognizable in this crowd; as is I feel like eyes watch my every move. This needs to be quick.

My list of supplies is half scratched off, just a few more pieces of armor and a couple more custom weapons and my mates will be well protected for their next match. I’ve all but thrown myself into the task, as if the extra effort will make the difference in the arena. As if the extra bit of leather might be the very thing that ensures they return to me afterwards.

I try to shake off the pressure driving into my chest like a spike. The Games are tomorrow. I’d chosen Kallias’s Orc for their opponent via a letter--Father hadn’t spoken to me directly since the Council meeting two days ago. I suppose that means Eris has kept his word thus far, but the silence makes time stretch out like a bad dream. I’ve spent nearly every waking moment watching the windows, waiting for the worst to happen.

Abandoning one booth, I move to another, fingers skimming over metal and leather chestpieces alike. All too thin. Too hollow. Orc’s favor axes, they need something that can withstand multiple blows. 

The next shop is too flashy. Too many Imperial colors. My stomach turns at the thought of seeing Rhys in Imperial gold. 

I dodge a squad of the Praetorian, they’ve been doing routine sweeps through the city more frequently since the parade. Perhaps it’s just Father’s paranoia, but there is a small piece of me that dares to hope that there was some sympathy in the crowd, that someone, somewhere in this damned city felt as horrified as moved to action as I was. 

I keep my hood drawn a little lower over my face as I move to the next level. This would be easier if I could have brought them along, no need to constantly double check the scribble of measurements I’d had the tailor make. They could pick what would be most comfortable for themselves, and I’d feel better about sending them off in it, at least they knew what they were doing. But the risk was too great. And worse, I’m a terrible coward.

I haven’t so much as looked at Azriel since the Council Meeting. I’d forced myself to climb into my empty bed and not use the secret tunnels. I’d found anything and everything to keep myself busy the next day. Not because I didn’t want to see him, or any of them, but because I couldn’t bear the waiting. The countdown to the next match had started like a death null in the back of my head. I can’t bring myself to be selfish and sit there with them when there are things within my power to do to save them. It’s not right that I will sit in my cushy booth with a drink while they fight for their lives. I have to give them a fighting chance. I have to do more than last time.

I have to ensure they get back alive. We will have time to work out what we want from each other when this is over. When I can ensure my heart won’t shatter into a million unfixable pieces if something happens.

I give myself a little shake as I skirt past food stalls swarming with several families of Sprites. Trajan, unlike many of the markets on the Square, is full of all sorts of creatures: Trolls and Goblins pull carts of wares down the aisles and up the stairs to the top levels. Pixies and Sprites flit about in the open air, directing traffic. Nephilim with their feathered wings tucked tight shop with Humans and Elves. We are all just shoppers here, none of the Empire’s prejudice to separate us. None of it’s cruelty to turn us on each other. This is how it should be. Tomorrow we will be in the Arena again. The crowds will be different. The atmosphere will be different. It will not be so peaceful.

My next stop is a merchant shop boasting the best armor in the Empire. This will be the third shop with that sign, I don’t have high hopes, but I cannot leave until I’ve searched every shop, exhausted every outlet. 

My fingers trace over the plated armor, shaped like scales. The design is well made, but the material… I tap a knuckle against it and hear a dull, hollow echo. Too thin. The next stall, boasts the best greaves and manicas. The extra padding of a sleeve will be useful, and the dark leather, layered like scales would look good on them. I buy three, one for each and add them to my basket before moving on.

A small cart selling ribbons momentarily halts my search, the colors vibrant and blowing softly in the breeze that drifts through the open market windows. I run my fingers over a violet thread, the same shade as Rhys’s eyes. 

“That’s a pretty color!” The merchant woman, a human I think, but her ears are tucked under a multicolored head scarf, calls out from the worn stool she sits atop.

If we were normal, I’d braid the ribbon into my hair, boast Rhys’s colors with a bit of black thread for everyone to see. A pang of longing hits me in the chest; we will never be normal people, not while the Empire stands. I’ll go to the Games tomorrow in white and gold to match my Father.

“It is,” my voice shakes as I remove the ribbon from the hook. I shouldn’t. I should be practical. It’s a waist of coin, I can’t wear it anyway. Still… 

“We’re having a sale,” the merchant continues. “Three for the price of one!”

The irony makes a laugh bubble out of me. Of course it would be three.

A cobalt one draws my eye next, then a bright red one. Before I can think twice about it, I’ve taken them off the hooks too.

“For anyone special?” She asks as I fish some coins from my purse.

“Of course,” I reply, but I don’t give her any more of an explanation.

The merchant pats my hand affectionately as she passes my change back, a knowing smile on her lips. I tuck the ribbon into the pocket of my cloak that sits over my heart; they’ll be another secret dream, meant for a girl less duty bound as me, but I cannot stop myself from hoping for a chance to one day wear them. 

“I hope they bring your lover luck,” the merchant says in farewell.

A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine; they’ll certainly need it.

--

It had taken hours, but I finally found suitable armor on the fifth floor of the market. Upon sneaking back into the House, I’d left the supplies with the tailor and instructed that she take it to our guests. If the Guard were to ask where she’d gotten it, she’d been instructed to say she’d picked it up in town on her last visit and had just finished adjusting the straps and various ties up until now. A ruse that should be believable and hopefully not be looked into too deeply. I was curious to see what they thought about my decisions, but bringing it in myself felt like it would draw too much attention, so I schemed as best I could and busied myself by going back to the Temple to make some offerings for tomorrow. 

I doubt there is enough bronze in the Empire to sway Fortuna, but that doesn’t stop me from offering my sacrifices all the same. 

Victoria’s altar gets more than its fair share of bull’s blood and wine; I’ve burned so much incense the warm spice mixture feels like it’s seeping into my skin. 

But while my offerings to Luck and Victory may look extreme to the priestesses, they are small in comparison to the blood I spill for the Mother. My nightly prayers have felt feeble and unheard, I remain at the altar far longer than necessary, whispering in Latin for as long as I can before people start asking questions. 

By the time I’ve finished, the afternoon heat is settling into a warm evening wind. I gather my spinning thoughts and head to the kitchens to give Cook instructions for our guests' nightly meal. It takes more than a few coins to bribe him into making enough food for a feast and then sending all of it to the guest wing, along with far more deserts than probably necessary. 

Everything today has probably been a little more than necessary, truth be told,  but I have to do everything in my power to help. I have to tell myself it’s enough. That I’ve exhausted every outlet, covered every angle, left nothing to chance. I won’t sleep tonight as is, but it’ll be worse if I cannot find some way to convince myself that I helped. 

I’m so busy directing plates this way and that I don’t even stop to consider that I haven’t eaten today until Anise grabs me by the elbow. With a couple plates in hand, she all but drags me into the triclinium to eat, despite my protest. There is still so much I need to do! 

“Sit!” The plate clangs against the table. 

The formal dining room has been empty for months. I’ve been eating my meals in my room for one reason or another. She throws open a dust covered curtain with a huff, letting in the last few glimmers of sunlight. 

“You’re pale as a fucking spirit!” She hisses at me. Her gnarled hands strike a match and light a few candles along the forlorn tables, her own plate sitting untouched next to me as she fusses over the room. 

“Probably high off incense too,” she grumbles.

I place my elbows on the table and brace my face in my hands so I can rub my temples. There’s that stash of mirthroot in my bedside table I’d purchased to trick my Father and I’m tempted to use a little bit of it, just to calm my nerves. 

“Do my prayers bother you all of a sudden, Anise?”

She leaves for a moment and returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Glaring in my direction, she fills the first glass to the brim and chugs the entire thing before pouring a second, less generous portion into her glass. “Your reasons more so.”

I grab a fork and stab at a piece of roast chicken. “Do we need to do this tonight?”

She pushes a glass my way as she weighs the bottle in hand, debating if her second glass is really full enough to deal with me tonight. 

My eyes fix on the door to the kitchens, where the shadows from the other room make it obvious that some of the staff are listening behind the door. This is not the time or the place. My nerves feel absolutely shot. I run my fingers absently over my ribs, where I feel a burst of power flittering around my lungs, like it just might bubble out and spill from my throat.

“You’ve scarcely made yourself available for it any other time,” she snaps.

I sip the wine and tear into a loaf of bread, swirling it around in the red sauce next to my plate, trying to find ways to swallow down my powers before they hurt someone. Or blow out the window. “For months and months you’ve harassed me about never leaving the house and suddenly it’s become a problem?”

She slams her palms down on the table as she lowers herself into the bench seat. “You were drowning!” Her voice is so loud I can hear the staff listening at the door jump back in surprise.

“Do you know what it was like? Watching you get swallowed up by your grief? It was like watching you be hollowed out, turned into this shell that didn’t care if the world around her caught fire. You were empty and broken, a ghost of a person.”

“I know,” I nod, shifting vegetables around on my plate until they turn to mush in the sauce. 

“I couldn’t reach you,” her breath stutters out of her and I look away so I don’t see her cry. “Nothing I said worked! Nothing got through to you. Sending you out to watch the Games…”

I use the wine to try and dislodge the lump forming in my throat. She’s the only real family I have left and I know that all this secrecy has hurt her, but I can’t let her in now. She can only know what’s necessary. If something were to happen to her because I’d told her the truth, I’d never forgive myself.

“I knew you hated them. You’d always come back crying as a child. They’re brutal and bloody and…” She pauses to gulp down more wine. “I thought it would wake you up. That seeing all that death might… might convince you that you still wanted to live.”

She’d been right of course, she always is, just not for the same reasons she’d thought. Her actions had pushed me right onto this path; given me a reason to hold on, to fight. 

“It did, Anise,” I start.

“Did it?” She cuts in. “Because this looks a Hel of a lot like self-sabotage to me! Do you have any idea what they’re saying about you in the Capital? What the staff whisper about when you leave the room?”

“You’re the one that’s been pouring contraceptive tea down my throat, I think I can guess.”

Her weathered palm hits the table again, rattling the glasses. “This is not a joke! They kill people for rumors like this! They’ve already tried to do so! Doesn’t that bother you, even a little?”

Truth be told, that Raven has felt like the least of my worries these last few days. 

My gaze flicks to the partially open door; how many of the staff will report this conversation to my Father? How many will go into town for one reason or another and gossip in the markets over this little spat? I have to be extremely careful about what I say next. 

“Of course it does,” I say slowly. 

“Then you know what you have to do to make this right.”

“I’m doing everything that has been asked of me-”

“That’s not what I mean!” She hisses, emerald eyes flashing. “Get rid of them!”

The room spins. Candlelight flickering. The window rattles; table bouncing off the floor. It takes far longer than it should for me to realize that it’s my doing. Dark clouds of ether seep from my skin, slithering out from under the soles of my feet like snakes--like Azriel’s shadows.

Anise gapes at me as more and more pours from my skin, filling the room. 

Shit! I draw in a shaky breath and hurriedly pull it all back beneath my skin, until there’s not a drop of it left in the room. The bond is a roaring, living thing in my chest, bashing against my rib cage, filling up my lungs with the acrid scent of smoke. I drown it out with another big gulp of wine while Anise gapes at me like I’ve grown a second head. It has never been that bad before.

I swallow hard and push away from the table. “They’re not going anywhere!” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, the growling a deep rumble from within my chest. I rub absently at the spot where the tension feels the greatest, even as I storm from the room. 

Anise doesn’t follow, and the staff scatter out of my way as I sweep throw the kitchen in a huff. How dare she demand I send my mates away! They’re mine to protect! Mine to care for! 

Mine.

Darkness trails out from behind me like a scarf, billowing and snapping from where it seeps out of my back. The bond will not quiet, will not stop bashing itself against my insides at the mere thought of being separated from them. 

I all but sprint down the hall, looking for somewhere to expel all this energy. Now is not the time to lose control! I have too many things to do before the morning to worry about this new found lack of control. 

I make it to the safe room, tucked behind a bookshelf in the library, and rip the key that always hangs around my neck off. My hands tremble as more darkness loops round and round my hands. My breath rasps out of me, chest heaving; I can’t get air in fast enough. 

By some miracle, I manage to wrangle the key into the lock and force my way inside before I explode entirely. Darkness, empty and cold and unyielding flies in every direction, until there is no longer light in the room. Until there is nothing but shadow. I surrender myself to it; let it fill and empty itself from every orifice until I no longer exist as I am. There is only darkness. Endless void. Nothingness. The room is inlaid with gorsian stone, so that no outside force could feel the power that escapes me. Mother says she built it in case I needed to hide from the outside world, but I have always known the truth: She built it in case she’d needed to hide the outside world from me.

If this is an indication of the sort of possessive intensity I’m capable of, maybe she was right to do so. 

I’m not sure I closed the door. Blindly, I reach out a tendril of power and ensure it's sealed before I let myself sink back into the nothingness. Let everything that is dark and ugly and cold pour out of me like water. It feels as if it might never stop coming out of me; more and more flows like the breaking of a damn.

Until I hear an ominous crack.

The sound in the emptiness pulls me back from the edge and I count down from ten to try and reign my power back in. 

Another crack follows, the sound like stone crumbling.

I have to blindly find the door to let out the cloud of darkness that fills the room and find a lantern. Once it’s lit, I find myself gaping up at the ceiling, where my power had not only splintered the heavy layer of concrete, but the gorsian stone as well. The greenish metal splinters in the shape of a lightning bolt as the concrete crumbles and falls away from the roof, littering the floor with debris.

“Shit,” I whisper to no one in particular. 

I run back out into the library to grab a chair so I can get a hand on the roof and further inspect the damage. It’s a deep cut, about three inches through the gorsian stone. Not all the way through the other side but enough that I can feel the waning power. The stone is built to absorb and hold power, with a crack like that, it releases into the air like vapor. A clean crack all the way through might very well make the whole room as un-warded and unprotected as another other room.

And there’s nobody who can fix it.

I climb down from the chair with a shudder. No one can know about this. The room itself has always been a closely guarded secret, but if anyone were to see what I had done, what I was truly capable of, forget the mating bond damning me, my powers would ensure my head rolled from my shoulders. Power like that cannot exist within the Empire.

I drag the chair out and lock the door behind me. This place will have to remain a tomb; just another secret to add to my ever growing list. 

I place the chair back at the proper table and go to turn off the lamp when it hits me. If I can crack this stone, can I do it with all of them?

My fingers trail absently over my throat as the idea mulls around in my head. Could I hone it just enough that I could be capable of cracking, say a collar?

The house is dark and quiet. I’d spent a lot longer there than I‘d thought! I rush through the now quiet kitchen, nothing left but a few dirty dishes for the morning, and slip into the cellar. Maybe this could be the edge I’d prayed for! Maybe Fortuna had accepted my offerings!

I can’t get the secret door open fast enough, my hands shaking again, but this time from excitement. I could save them! If done right, the collar wouldn’t be an issue, they could fight freely.

I should have brought a light with me. I’d be a liar if I said I was a little disappointed that the other end of the tunnel isn’t already open and none of them are waiting for me on the other end, but I guess can’t really fault them. I haven’t exactly given the impression I’d be coming around any time soon. 

I fumble for a few minutes to find the lock, pausing briefly to press my ear to the door to listen for signs that it’s even safe for me to do so. None of the vents have picked up any conversation, which is odd now that I think about it. Have they already gone to sleep?

I turn the lock gently. They do need as much rest as they can get, but if I can give them this advantage, maybe this will be the last time in the Pit they ever have to have. Maybe we can turn things around from here. I have to try.

The door groans when it opens, ominous in the stillness. All the lights are off, the curtains drawn so not even a sliver of moonlight can filter through. 

Strange…

I tap at the bond. There’s no sounds of Cassian’s snores. And the thing in my chest is… quiet.

I pick my way carefully over to the room they’ve crammed all their beds in. The door is shut, the metal of the handle cold like it hasn’t been touched in awhile. My heartbeat is a clanging drum in my ears as I turn the knob and push the door open.

It feels like an eternity for the hinges to turn, for the room to come into view. My heart plummets into my stomach, every second of the drop a free fall into the depths of an abyss. The room is empty. 

Every room is empty. I check each in a panic, tugging incessantly at the bond but there is only quiet. 

This can’t be happening!

I was so close! I was going to be able to fix this! 

Footsteps sound down the open tunnel and for a moment the swell of hope threatens to overwhelm me. They’re fine. They’re fine. They’re-

Anise appears in the doorway, frowning. 

Just like that, my hope deflates. My legs wobble and I have to brace myself against the base of the statue of the Mother. “Anise, where are they?”

She closes the door behind her, emerald eyes shifting around like she expects some great beast to pop out and devour us. “The Guard came.”

Panic sweeps through me like a title wave, so intense my fingers live indents in the metal base of the statue. “What did you do?”

She huffs at me, offended. “I hadn’t decided what I was going to do yet, since you no longer are capable of seeing reason, but…” she shrugs, “the decision was made for me. The Emperor has declared that no sponsored champions should spend the night before a match anywhere but the Arena’s barracks. To ensure no outside tampering with the gladiators, of course.”

The room flips end over end and it’s a fight just to get enough air in my lungs. No! No! No! This can’t be happening!

“They’ll be returned to you, if they win.”

“Anise,” I don’t know what I mean to say, what I mean to beg for. I have to see them! I have to finish what I came here to do!

“This will be good for you,” she insists. “This obsession of yours is unhealthy. You need to start tomorrow with a clear head.”

“I need to see them!” I choke out.

“The morning will come soon enough. It’s best if you put it out of your mind and get some rest.”

Rest? They stole my mates! The statue rattles beneath my hands as my control weans again. I have to get them back! I have to-

Something pricks the back of my neck as Anise comes around the side of me, her weathered hand outstretched. 

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she says gently. “I told your Mother it would never come to this, that I would never need to use it. You’ve always had such exceptional self-control, even as a child. It seemed silly that she’d had such precautions, but now…”

It feels like flames beneath my skin, fire shooting up my veins, consuming every lick of power it can find. A hand like a vice clamps itself around the beast that lives in my chest and squeezes so tight my knees give out and I fall like a penitent sinner at the base of the altar.

“Anise-” I choke out.

“It’s just a little faebane, to help with the control. It’ll help you sleep.”

NO!

My body curls up on itself as the burning intensifies. She bends, her old knees popping, to pat my head. “I know you don’t believe me, but I am doing this for your own good.”

Tears prick my eyes as they roll down my cheeks. I don’t know if they’re for me, or my mates. 

Anise wipes them away, making shushing noises like she used to do when I was a child with a scraped knee. “I promised your Mother I’d never let anything happen to you.” She coos. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Spots swim across my vision and I thrash my head, trying to fight them off, but it’s useless. The faebane continues to course through me like a wildfire, burning all resistance in it’s path until my limbs go limp and the darkness inside me snuffs out. Worse, the bond, fragile as it is, shrivels further, until it is a hollow, empty echo. I can’t even feel them on the other end.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, make it stop, Anise!”

She strokes her hands through my hair, humming a lullaby she used to sing me to sleep with, as if this is normal. As if I’m still a child too scared of the dark to sleep. The spots that swim across my vision grow bigger and bigger. I can’t move my limbs enough to struggle, can’t even turn my head.

The chill of the tile seeps through my skirts as my erratic breathing starts to calm, heart rate slowing.

“There you go,” she coaxes. “Stop fighting it.”

“Please,” the word sounds garbled; feels strange in my mouth, my tongue not quite forming the letters.

“Sshhh.”

The spots consume me, darkness yet again filling my vision, but this time it pulls me under as I lose the battle against it.

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Chapters 1/2/3/4/5/6/ 7/ 8

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[strawberryflavoredvenum]

TicciJack fanfic. Light angst but a happy ending

Toby has trouble deciphering what's real sometimes. Jack is concerned for him.

Thank you @reddetur for the prompt! I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I have experienced hallucinations but I'm not schizophrenic. I do not have the experience to give a 100% accurate depiction of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia also isn't just hallucinations. I am studying psychology and mental disorders in college and care very deeply about not making creepypasta into stigmatizing mentally ill people. Sorry if setting a disclaimer seems excessive, I just care about it a lot.

.

.

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Toby doesn't flinch much at shadows anymore.

There comes a point in someone's life where they see the same thing over and over again and it no longer affects them. Sure, certain hallucinations still get to him. The random touches or sudden loud noises. But not so much these ones. The shadowy figures that creep around in the corner of his vision. They never make any noise or touch him. Once he got used to it, they just became a nuisance. Well.. during the day at least.

The introduction of demons, killers, and paranormal entities into his life has made it a little harder to recognize whether something is real or not. Before everything happened, he could rely on other people's ideas of reality. That is, if he wasn't having an episode. Now that he lived in the mansion he couldn't tell himself that the ghosts, shadow people, insane psycho killers weren't real.

Something that keeps him at ease is the reaction of others. He can always look to the people around him to gage whether he should be worried or not. If no one else is looking at it then he shouldn't either. But that strategy can only go so far. It doesn't help when none of his peers are with him.

But honestly nothing could have prepared him for tonight. It's not like these things sprung up on him or anything. He could feel himself slowly getting worse. His motivation to care for himself plummeted and he became disorganized. Then came the intrusive thoughts and the increased hallucinations. He knew staying up all night wouldn't help but there was no way to fall asleep with everything going on. He was too paranoid and every time he got close to sleep, a loud sound would go off or he would feel like he was falling.

He was downstairs in the kitchen bar preparing his late night guilty pleasure. Four slices of bread with butter. He was looking out to the living room, watching all the figures and random colors dance around. He would be lying if he said he wasn't about to run back upstairs with his bread so the shadow people don't get him. His motions were slower, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. He felt like there was a spotlight on him. He could tell himself that nothing he's seeing was real. That they weren't even approaching him. Just walking around and watching. But nothing was going to convince his subconscious that he wasn't in danger.

He sandwiched the slices together and wrapped them in a paper towel to make transport easier and started walking to the stares when a figure came closer. He flinched but ignored it-That was until it fucking grabbed him. Toby let out a scream slightly too high pitched to be a man's and punched the figure in the jaw. He was met with a solid object that made a grunt and quickly backed up and grabbed their face.

Toby took a moment to step back and catch his breath before flicking the kitchen light on and seeing Jack. He was holding the side of his face and glaring at toby. "Jesus tobes I was just trying to see what you were doing. It's 2 in the fucking morning!" Toby caught his breath and looked a bit sheepishly at Jack. "......I thought you were someone else?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell would be down here that you would want to punch?"

Toby looked away. To the discarded slices of bread on the floor. He had dropped them when he sucker punched Jack. "No one in particular." Toby hoped that Jack would drop it. Jack wasn't stupid. Hallucinations are not uncommon in the mansion. He's even had them a time or two during sleepless nights or when missions went on for too long.

He sighed and helped toby pick up the remains of his food. "Out of all things you could have ventured out into the dark to grab, four slices of buttered bread was what you chose?" Jack questioned. Toby looked up at Jack. "Well what were YOU down here for?" Jack shrugged. "To smoke." He said, gesturing towards the front door.

Jack threw the bread away and shook his head. Half a loaf wasted. He returned to toby. Toby didn't look well. He looked tired but his eyes were wide open, looking into the distance. Jack took him by the shoulder and started leading him to his room. "C'mon. You don't need food, you need sleep. Staying up is only making things worse." Toby followed but looked conflicted. "Weren't you going to smoke?" Jack shrugged again. I lost the urge. My jaw hurts too much. He teased lightly. Toby looked away. "I didn't mean to." That was Toby's way of apologizing without actually saying sorry. Jack just nodded and kept walking.

They made it to Toby's cluttered room. It got like that when he let his mental health slip. Jack took it all in but made no reaction that toby could discern. He pushed toby into bed and firmly told him to lay down. Toby raised an eyebrow but was too exhausted to really care. He laid down and sighed.

"so what now?" Toby asked. Jack sat on the side of Toby's bed. "You sleep and I watch over you." Jack's tail had made its way to Toby's hip. The weight of it was comforting in a way. Toby gave a bit of mumbled words salad that Jack pretended to follow and had a few more bad moments before finally falling asleep.

Jack looked around Toby's room. It was hard to gage how Toby's doing sometimes. He never outright said anything. There was a look in his eye that he sometimes had but the biggest indicator of his well-being was his room. With nothing better to do, Jack started sorting through his friends stuff, putting things where they belong and putting his laundry downstairs.

Jack watched over him the rest of the night. He returned to his room just before sunrise so no one else would know he spent the night in Toby's room. Toby woke up sometime that afternoon. His body was sore from sleeping for so long but his head felt a bit less cluttered. It wasn't fixed but it was better than before he slept. He saw his clean room and blushed deeply. He couldn't believe he let Jack see him like that. Jack didn't actually mind Toby's mess at all. He was more concerned with helping his friend(crush).

[entities-of-posts]

When I was little, I was terrified of space. Which was funny, because one of my favorite books was a constellations activity book. I think I just liked it for the Greek myths tied to the constellations. I still have it, I think, up in my room. It's the kind of thing you just don't have the heart to get rid of. But that's besides the point.

One time, in elementary school, we took a field trip to the little observatory in the high school. No telescope or anything, but it had one of those fancy, expensive, spherical projectors and a domed ceiling. I remember the red lighting around the rim of the ceiling, so that we could see our worksheets but it was still dark. Something about red light not really registering as bright light, and helping your eyes adjust to darkness? I dunno. Again, I'm getting off topic.

I don't really remember what the presentation was about, what the person said. I remember the wobbly seat that leaned back so you didn't strain your neck looking up. I remember the stars across the ceiling. I remember the person fast-forwarding the projection through the whole year, watching the constellations and planets move.

I felt so small. I was terrified. The universe is huge, and I'm just one little kid on one little planet. Would anything I do ever matter? Would anyone remember me? I was so scared, I felt sick to my stomach. I left the observatory feeling hollow.

And one time, my parents were watching Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. Neil deGrasse Tyson was talking about the life cycle of stars, and how, in 5 billion years, the sun will run out of hydrogen, and for 3 billion years it will swell, swallowing Mercury, Venus, and Earth. I tried to tune it out, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. Why did it matter to me? I'd be gone by then. I shouldn't care what happens in billions of years. but the idea of the sun devouring its children, burning them up in its hunger and desperation…

There are little things, too. I'm afraid of heights, but only if they’re not contained. I have really strong call to the void - the urge to throw yourself off the edge. My school auditorium has a balcony, and when I was touring the campus for some class, the instinct was so strong I had to stand as far away from the railing as possible, and I still got dizzy. My knees were weak, I was shaking, the world was spinning. No one noticed.

Ironically, my most pleasant dreams are ones where I’m flying. The wind in my hair, the breathlessness. Tucking my wings in to dive, or fall, so fast I think I’ll hit the ground, and opening them at the last moment to skim just above the Earth, then soaring up into the clouds again…

But as far as space goes? I lived with that fear for years and years. But one day, maybe when I was 18 or something, I don’t remember, something just… changed. I was in a depressive episode, I think, and it was like 10pm. I was the only one awake in my house. Talking online wasn’t enough, I needed to get out of my head. So I just… went outside. There were no clouds. There was light pollution, sure, but I could see Orion’s belt, at least.

And just… Just sitting there, looking at the inky black of the sky, hearing the nightbirds and cicadas and crickets and distant traffic, I just… I don’t know. I finally felt like I was a part of it all. A small part, maybe, but an important part. A tapestry is nothing without all the little individual threads, and I was one of those threads. I could finally see that. And I could see the butterfly effect of my actions, my kindness, just my presence. Rippling out from me, to those I loved, to whomever they love, to people I’ve never met, people in other countries. I could see it all.

And I heard the universe sing. Every cell in my body, every atom under my feet and circling through my lungs, every star lightyears away. It was all singing, and I could finally hear it. And it was all just for me, just in that moment.

“You are part of me,” it said. “You will always be. Don’t forget that.”

And I, uh. I haven’t.

The Vast, perhaps more than any other Fear, weaves wonder and dread together beautifully. It’s just awe-striking, for better and worse.

[glamorous-egoist]

Whitaker, please he’s just the best.

More under the cut for Ep. 9

Mr. Silent Heart Attack, honestly the only words out of my mouth was asshole, what a fucking dick. My girl Dana?!?! Are you serious? I hope that’s the last we’ve seen of him, but I doubt it. Dana is the best, the end.

Whitaker catching the rat and killing it? You go farm boy! I was dying of laughter because they were all amused by it, also the nurse flirting with him? Give my boy a win! A girl and clean scrubs he is on top of the world. Seriously though, I do like that he cares enough about the kraken and is willing to go out into the field. He’s probably one of my favorites with Mel, just both really well written. I hope next season we get to see that outreach team with McKay!

Speaking of McKay, she had a rough hour. Trying to get a human trafficking girl help she didn’t want, though the pen with the hotline was so smart! Then the UTI that wasn’t a UTI coming back in, I felt for her, especially with the bias mention from Collins. Which is another thing that happens, bias with heavy set people, I really like that this show is addressing that along with the POC struggle.

Also Robby tweaking his back? Ok old man (I love this old man very much, so very much affectionate). It’s either a tweaked back or a urine infection, that man has not known a moment of peace today. Two things 1) I had to go back and listen to what he said to Langdon after he walked in on him reaming Santos out because of how he appeared behind the curtain it was giving “hello there” and 2) trying to distract Collins with the rat, again a glimpse of Dr. Carter (the lawsuit wants to know my location). Also the Robby school of compartmentalizing emotions was in session briefly, sir I know why you have been having issues getting over Adamson’s death…

He was right to ream out Langdon, he’s been riding Santos hard, but also two sides to every story, I mean Santos has been out of control all day. I get it but she also keeps doing things to set people off. It’s just not kosher. Though figuring out what the MDMA patient needed was a great save, but not taking credit and how she spoke to Mohan after was odd. Also I think the drug thing with Langdon is a red herring, I just get this suspicion it’s Abbott I don’t know why… we shall see. Enough about Santos, I don’t want her redeemed, we need a bad guy of sorts.

Collins, I feel for her, I really do this is so rough. Dana and her have such a sweet relationship. Collins cares a lot which I love, just despite everything she’s still going above and beyond for her patients. Speaking of relationships, are we ever going to get what in the ever loving fuck happened between her and Robby, that banter was flirtatious as hell excuse me y’all.

Mel! First off the excitement about getting to pick gravel out of the man? Please my girl was so happy, I love it! Also her and Langdon, he’s a really good mentor to her and I love that, but also I am suspecting he may have a special needs son, because he just knows what to do. I just really really love her character and their friendship. Also not Langdon calling her his least problematic trainee, please you dork. I like the guy and his dog, not going to lie gave me a good laugh.

Speaking of Langdon, mask on or off during surgery, sent me reeling, like get her! That whole debacle in chairs was funny, I know it wasn’t supposed to be, but between poor Earl on the floor and Dana absolutely taking a shot at Philly, just great. The tooth thing freaked me out, but I’m also squeamish about teeth, this show gets too graphic sometimes.

We’re starting to see the first glimpses of issues at Pitt Fest and the cops for her incel shooter. We know it’s hinting towards mass causality for the season finale just from where is the question.

Honorable mentions this week? Javadi and Mateo girl we have all been there, Mateo not knowing how Erik Estrada is and of course Earl with his rom com quip.

I’ll miss episode 10 live, I’m traveling, but I’ll try to catch up Sunday when I get back!

See you next week!

[penguinlife]

This insomnia is killing me.

This is totally my opinion. I strongly believe that Nic believed Luke and the dancer had broken up in NY. They did hook up on the WT, I believe she was under the impression that A was confused and that Luke had given her the wrong idea that they were more serious than what they were. Leading to all the mixed messages answers.

A resurfaced at the London premiere, and I still believe it was orchestrated by his sister Lauren.

Now, before the cray cray, Luke haters misunderstand me. Luke has some issues. He is truly a nice guy. And with nice guys, they tend to get into situations because they are trying not to hurt people.

He and Nic put some distance between them after the WT. It is easy for them to compartmentalise. Their feelings are just their characters spilling over.

The throwaway comment that Nic made about her being a 7 haunts me. It presents as low self-esteem. She knows she is a good actress, and she is happy to receive compliments when it has to do with her work, but she hates it when people comment on her appearance, good or bad. I might be projecting here, but it makes sense to me. Every time she gets recognised for anything, she pivots to someone or something else.

She loves Luke and cherishes his friendship. I think she sees it to be all that it could ever be. I have been in a similar situation. Again, I might be projecting.

He and A rekindled their relationship over the summer but parted ways again just before S4 filming kicked off. By this time, Nics walls were up.

After the new year, A again reapeared, this time at the family funeral. Again, I think Lauren was the person who invited her. Luke and Nic have been on a filming break. Similarly to the one they had in Nov/Dec last year. My guess is about a month. During this time, he and A started hanging out again.

This brings us to the SAG awards. I have a feeling A was going to be at least at the afterparty, but something last minute changed.

From the SAG awards red carpet, it did seem like it was coming more from Luke's side. Nic was more reserved. But their feelings for each other are real, and they can't hide it. Nic's walls are still up to protect herself. Yes, in my opinion, it was an overcompensation to follow A. Saying in a way that she won't let anything happen between her and Luke because, look, she is now friends with A. Also, I believe subconsciously she is forcing Luke's hand, claim A, make it official.

Now, I don't believe he will claim A. Actually, the opposite will happen. He believes himself to not be a pushover, unlike his character Colin. Because he is a truly nice guy, he acts out in a way that only hurts himself. Like how he took A to the Boss One event and the BAFTA afterparty. Someone most definitely in his team advised him against it.

Luke and Nic will be back on set tomorrow, and I believe they will confront what has happened.

Side note: Luke respecting S3/Polin/Nicola by not bringing A into the light has done what I thought it would. He has gained a lot of positive attention. He was essentially just part of the ensamble nominations, but he was as highlighted as Nic by all the major accounts. Yes, their interaction helped. But essentially, they only hugged each other. In of it self is super harmless and on the surface meaningless. It was the authenticity of the moment that made it blow up.

I listened to the Nikki Glaser episode of Armchair expert with Dax and Monica on my walk yesterday. She famously made a comment about Taylor Swifts weight, which was included in Taylor's documentary. She reflected on how it was 100% on herself. She was projecting as she was struggling with verious forms of eating disorders. She was jealous of Taylor, one for wanting to look like her and two for wanting to be her friend. She apologised to Taylor, owning what she had said. Taylor graciously accepted the apology.

I so resonated with what Nikki was saying. I gained quite a bit of weight in my 20s&30s because of some health issues. Not having the funds to see specialists. I have always been told I was pretty. Sinse from a very young age, but when my late father made a comment a few years ago that it is a shame that I gained so much weight, I am no longer pretty, shook me to my core. I never thought I was pretty. But I suddenly realised I was being treated differently.

Covid happened, I got retrenched and received a really nice settlement. Could finally afford that specialist, psychologist, and dietician. 12 months later, and I am back to what I weighed at university. It has been hard work. Commitment and determination. No excuses and being extremely hard on myself.

Something inside me has shifted. I used to be body positive. All bodies are beautiful and have value. But lately, I find myself thinking very harsh thoughts. When I see someone who is overweight, I judge them. If I can do it, so can they. Why are you not taking care of yourself. Your health is the most important. If you could just stop eating takeouts or sugar. This is me 1000% projecting. It is my own issue. I miss eating nice food. I miss having to just sit and watch movies. Not exercise. Sometimes walking 5km is absolute torture. Everything hurts. My energy is at 0. Every step is extreme effort. But I am being so extremely hard on myself that I just hate on everyone who gets to not do it. I can admit that. I don't go and speead that toxicity on other peoples posts.

These people hating on NIc or Luke, you are telling on yourself. It is not on them. We don't know them. We make assumptions and guesses, but at the end of the day, we only see glimses of them.

Before making that nasty comment, reflect. Are you projecting, assigning labels, and judging what is on the surface?

[incandescentflower]

I am officially on board with Century of Love. Honestly, I was from the beginning, but I am now caught up. I personally love mythology that is completely surprising and out and out bonkers, and serves to set up good emotional conflict.

We have curses and deaging (which congrats to the young actor who somehow can channel Daou's "I'm done with this shit" expression) and nightly suffering in the name of love. Every little peel back of this story has been so fun.

And top it all off with the straight out of fanfiction story that Vee's presence is what can sooth San's physical (manifestation of emotional) pain.

It uses tropes in such fun ways, the big and the small. I don't think I've ever enjoyed the accidental fall on each other trope as much as I did in ep 3 . I was howling with laughter. I love that they don't take themselves too seriously and they used this, not as a big romantic moment, but as an awkward situation we get to watch San squirm though haha

I'm also excited (trying to tamp it down a little) that it seems like we are going to get some exploration of what really makes someone them - what makes up the totality of a person. San is convinced Vee is not Wat. But Wat was a rich woman in the 1920s and Vee is a poor man in the 2020s. Wat had to be a lot of things that San says she was because of expectations on her. Vee has had other experiences that would make him act differently - and he points that out - the time they live in allows for that.

(as a side note, I love the socio-economic flip that is happening in the present with San being well-established and wealthy and Vee struggling and lower class)

But even if they seem very different, Vee still is so incredibly kind in the same ways we saw Wat being. Vee wanted to help kid-San as soon as he saw him, he is almost singularly focused on taking care of his grandmother. He put those dudes who were stabbed into the taxi (what?? okay fine show whatever) and that was pretty much exactly what Wat did for San when she met him??

San is definitely not the exact same person as he was 100 years ago before he spent years of searching and suffering, coping with a devastating loss of the one he loved. A lived life does change a person, but do those things change the central core of who we are and what another person may fall in love with? I would love if this show grapples with that. To me that would be a fun twist on "the reincarnated lovers have the exact same dynamic and pick up exactly where they left off" story that often happens in dramas.

Whipped cream on top is that I also love San's descendants (at least the ones who live with him) and this very Goblin (kdrama) vibe of "care-taking the immortal" relationship San has going on with them.

The mix of levity and mythology and high stakes in this show is really quite delightful. I'm pretty psyched about it.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[leek-e]

Stugo screenshot redraw :) Francis Wants to Be Alone was such a great episode. The scene at the end was so sweet - it really felt like they understood each other perfectly in that moment. Very beautiful after Merian spent the whole episode worrying that she had lost her friendship with Francis. I love them <3

[aqueousammonia-art]

i don't have much to say because school but I am really enjoying watching trigun (98 anime)

originally I was going to cut off my adventures at episode 13 (which I found out was just a rehash of previous adventures + some new scenes) and pick up the other half during my June holidays

*then I found out the 'next day' that netflix was pulling the show in about 9 days from this post.(hhh)

*that was in march

so I'm trying to slowly finish the show now and draw out all my thoughts at the end instead of splitting my review into two like I intended (which was stupid now that I think about it.)

legato's interesting to me - I don't eat sweet stuff often but I would be down with this guy

he'd recommend the meanest cakes. he'd know the wackiest spots for heavenly delicacies.

for anyone who's read this far, take this legato doodle with you as thanks ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

I'll be back with my thoughts when I finish the 98 anime!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[bloodbatty]

The hair is hairing✨

[sskk-manifesto]

--

[pynkhues]

I really do feel like Jacob, Sam, Delainey, and Assad deserve nominations -- their performances were just so extraordinary. Eric was also fantastic--I might personally put Ben Daniels over him, but that might be unfairly giving him too little credit for his performance just because the character seems closer to him than any of the other actors do to their characters.

I totally agree, anon! They're all so good, including Ben, and it would be so nice to see them all nominated. I'm not sure if this season will be eligible for the SAGs, but I really hope it is just because it's like, the only awards ceremony that offers a Best Ensemble category which this cast absolutely deserves.

I feel for Eric a bit, because in a lot of ways, he's got both the hardest and least glamorous role? He's really functioning as a gateway character for the audience to the broader storyworld, and as a result, he becomes a bit of a barometer of tone. He's modern without being too modern, he's sceptical, he's funny, and his dry tone is actually what lets the rest of the show be high melodrama. Without him, the show would veer too far into camp. It's Daniel's voice and Eric's performance that grounds the series because - like a true tonal barometer - he's constantly checking the pressure of a scene, and the side effect is that he doesn't really get to transcend tone - at least not at this stage - in the way all the other actors get to. He has to stay grounded for the show to work.

Which is a hard thing to acknowledge when every other actor gets to explore characters at such heightened points of emotion! But it's vital all the same, and I truly think the show would be lost without him, which in a lot of ways is a true supporting actor role, and lowkey a reminder that Sam and Delainey at the very least, if not Assad as well, are really probably closer to co-leads than they are supporting.

[rainbowpotatocakes21]

bury your gays still being a thing in 2024 is wack

[good-beans]

🏠!

[starseed-awakening]

Has anyone watching Moonlight Mystique kept count of how many villain monologues we've gotten?