#and also maybe watching a video about green mountain made it worse

[kakyogay]

started a sonic corner in one of my canvases so umh here ya go have some slop :>

also when the mountain is green or somethn

[unatempesta-dipensieri]

Red Moon

banner done by the wonderful @dee-ehn​ (thank you bb)

pairing: OT7 x reader

genres: poly!au, fallen angels!au, demons!au

word count: 2095

warnings: feathers falling from the structure of their wings, leaving a very ugly structure (not described in detail), minor character death

                                           ACT 1, CHAPTER 01

Small impetuous drops rumbled in the pine forest, in the silence only that continuous jingle was audible. The wood is very large and extends over an enormous arch of territory, surrounded by very high white mountains for recent snowfalls. The smell of resin, fir and musk was added to the sweet and relaxing sound of the drops falling on the pines. The landscape was wrapped in a solemn silence, the animals seeking shelter, the pine trees motionless since there was no wind. The whole expanse was colorful with various greens, from light to some dark shades. In the undergrowth, small bushes and moss reigned. On the ground only pine needles, fallen over the years. Suddenly a dazzling light, a noise rang out in the valley, the most intense rain and the amplified noises. A stream of water rushed beyond the valley and swelled visibly as the small drops increased. Namjoon was still lying on the ground, his body was too heavy and numb to allow him to stand up and seek shelter. He tried to move his head slightly to look around and to see if the others were beside him, but his neck hurt. He had taken a hit, so he stopped and closed his eyes, thinking about why he was in that place.

It all started when Yoongi saw that girl. He saw her run through the crowded streets of New York, with headphones in her ears that let out classical music. He had fallen in love with watching her play the piano, her diaphanous white fingers moved gracefully on the piano keys, while a sweet symphony echoed in the room where she was.

The second to see it was Seokjin; he saw her with several plastic bags in her hands, as she tried to go up to the fifth floor of the building. She almost fell from the cloud she was on when she saw that the girl was about to fall down the stairs when she was wrong to put her foot down but was saved by another human who was a few steps away from her. After a few minutes, he saw her enter her apartment and start putting away all the ingredients or products she needed for the home. He loved the fact that she was neat and that she loved to cook.

The third was Hoseok. He saw her while she was teaching girls ballet. Hoseok, besides the angels, had never seen such a beautiful and graceful creature. She managed to be so elegant even when the little creatures made a wrong move, she always smiled and if necessary she explained again every single move to those girls who couldn't understand or perform the exercise; but she also loved the fact that when she wanted to, she knew how to be serious and was able to put back those who did not follow her rules.

The fourth was Namjoon. He saw her walking with a bag over her shoulder in Central Park. Already the fact that the girl liked the vegetation had made the archangel's heart beat a lot. He saw her sit on a bench, and after taking a book out of her bag, start reading. He saw how she began to isolate herself, perhaps, recreating the scenes from the book in his mind. Namjoon could not help but stare at her with a smile on his face.

The fifth was Jimin, although a little hesitant in looking at a human who was not what the superiors had chosen at all. He perched on a cloud and looked at her with bored eyes. He spent several days looking at her until he understood why the others were so taken with her. Looking at her, he understood that she had a pure heart and soul, perhaps even too pure not to be an angel. He fell in love with her innocence and her smile; perhaps, he had never seen such a bright smile in all his years of service.

The sixth was Taehyung, who used the excuse of looking at the human as a moment of relax from the addict of his chosen one. He needed to breathe and to stop watching his chosen drug and slowly bring himself to death, that's why as soon as Namjoon asked who wanted to watch her, Taehyung did not think twice. He loved how the hair strands were arranged, which protruded from the tail, behind the ear, of how, when she had the chance, she went to see some art shows, or when she painted and stained, who knows how, her face.

The last but not least, at least for them, was Jungkook. The youngest of them and the newest. He had fallen in love with a nice and sunny girl like her. He loved the fact that, like him when he was still alive, she found time to play video games, train in the gym, but still managed to find space for friends. He knew that humans were running constantly. He understood that by seeing his chosen one. Single mother of two children, the ex-husband cheated on her with a colleague and gave her up in no uncertain terms, to then go to Norway with the other woman. It was something he hated. Betrayal.

The betrayal was just what he expected of all seven.

An angel heard a conversation that all seven were having and ran to one of the superiors telling him everything he had heard. They didn't even have time to rebel that in no time they were in the room where the Superiors met and discussed very important matters.

"Cherubino Namjoon, I never expected such behavior from you," said one of the elders. If Jimin remembered well he had to be called Jaehyung but he was not very sure.

"And what would I do?" Namjoon asked raising his head and looking at him defiantly.

"I heard that you seven have fallen in love with a human," said the superior, smiling at him, showing him his white teeth.

The boys widened their eyes, their hearts started to beat wildly. They could not speak, perhaps because they were caught in the act. Yoongi clenched his jaw thinking about who might have heard their private discussion.

"Seraphin Seokjin -continued the superior- you know that these emotions are not part of the angels, but of the demons!" he screamed the last word in panic, had wide eyes and a crazy smile, while looking at Seokjin, who remained impassive.

The Superior was about to insult Jungkook when the main door opened. "What do you want now?" he screamed as soon as he saw an Angel enter.

"Sir, we did what you ordered," said the newcomer, bowing.

"Well," said the Seraphin, then turned to the seven angels. "Surely you are wondering what I asked him to do. I ordered him to kill her while she slept. A quick and painless death. "

The Seraphin never expected such a violent reaction, especially from Seraphin Seokjin. He jumped up and threw himself against his body, squeezing his neck with his hands.

"How dare you! And you are the ones who say you love independently and that you are better than demons, but you are worse than them! As soon as a human creates the slightest problem, you get it out of the way! Jaehyung, remember my words, I will make you go through the pains of hell, I will make you die of a slow and painful death! " Seokjin shouted in anger.

Even the others had never seen him in those conditions. His neck and face were completely red, his hands that were still around Jaehyung's neck trembled and his eyes were filled with tears, as were theirs. In an instant the guards seized Seokjin and stopped him with golden chains, preventing him from moving.

Jaehyung got up and after adjusting his white tunic, looked at the boys, then smiled.

"I, Archangel Jaehyung, in the name of God, cause the Cherubino Namjoon, the Seraphim Seokjin, the Throne Yoongi, the Domination Hoseok, the Archangel Jimin, the archangel Taehyung and the angel Jungkook, to be exiled from Paradise for eternity. May Hell welcome you," said the Archangel and with a snap of fingers it began.

Pain began. They could feel their wings cracking, their heads hurting and their stomach turning over. Hoseok looked towards Jimin, and saw the younger bent forward while holding his head in his hands, the wings were completely bare and writhing taking a really bad position, all the white feathers were still bleeding on the ground while in their place, black feathers were growing. He looked at Namjoon and saw that the color of his eyes had changed to a color he could not define, but he looked like a mixture of light orange and yellow, his white hair had become a light lilac. Maybe his partners's hair had changed too but he had no reflective surface to see himself in.

When the wings changed completely, they felt the floor crumble under their feet and fell on deaf ears. Jungkook opened his eyes just when his body crossed a cloud, he tried to stop and trying to flap his wings but a twinge of pain ran all over his body. He looked to the sides and saw that the boys were beside him, Seokjin held the hands of Jimin and Taehyung, while Hoseok held his and Yoongi's. But who was holding Namjoon's hand? He looked slightly further and saw that Namjoon was still passed out, he tried to tell Yoongi to hold Namjoon's hand, but when they crossed a large cloud, he didn't saw him again.

Then the crash came in no time. The good thing was that it was raining like never before so humans would have thought that the sound of their fall was a thunder nearby.

****

Hours passed, the first ray of light illuminated the valley which took on a magical aspect. Everything was now visible: the high white mountains with various clouds full of humidity, the pine forest and the river.

Namjoon opened his eyes still dull and heard rapid steps towards him, perhaps someone was running to help him.

"Namjoon!" Seokjin entered his vision followed by Taehyung, who began to dig to free his body of the earth and the mud that had covered it. He tried to speak but only guttural lines came out of his mouth.

"Hyung, don't try! Keep drinking the water we found at a nearby stream! " Jungkook said approaching his cup-shaped hands.

Hyung? What word was it? What did it mean?

"I know you're asking yourself many things but first we have to get you out of here," Seokjin said giving him a reassuring smile. The oldest, along with the youngest, had always had this reassuring soul, which managed to calm the other five.

"Black looks good on you," Namjoon whispered when he started focusing. “Thanks hyung! Lilac is fine for you instead, ”Jungkook replied with a smile. "What is this hyung, you keep calling?" Namjoon asked looking him in the eye.

"Since I have been dead for about two, three years I think things have not changed much, hyung is used by males to call another boy who is older than him, therefore of logic, I should call you all hyung, to show respect, ”said Jungkook, continuing to remove the mud that had trapped one of the older's legs.

After the two freed him, they gave him a hand to get up and clean himself of the residues that had remained on his clothes and face. "So what do we do now?" Jimin asked, attracting the attention of others. "Let's start walking in search of civilization," Yoongi replied.

They didn't know how long they walked when they started hearing car noises. Taehyung passed a bush and had to close his eyes when a light blinded him. It was the headlights of a car passing by.

"Anyone know what place this is?" he asked when the others had joined him. "This ... this is Seoul, we are in South Korea," replied Jungkook and then continued: "This is the city that brought me to end my life, it shouldn't have changed much and I still remember some things," 

"So what are you waiting for? Show us the way angel, ”Hoseok said putting a hand on his shoulder. Jungkook nodded and the others followed him breathlessly. It would have been an adventure in teaching kids how to behave among humans and how to use the simplest things, like taking a bus.

[entitycradle]

A Tree Without Wind

Content warnings: mention of, discussion of, threats of, and plans to commit suicide. Panic attacks, disassociation, and paranoia are described, sometimes in detail. An eating disorder is alluded to. Characters are horny for each other but there’s nothing sexually explicit.

I promise the ending is hopeful. I genuinely am not trying to trick you, I know what this sort of thing is like, I want to respect your capacity while still being truthful to the experience and allowing tension in the story. If you’re in the right place for it, click that button.

A TREE WITHOUT WIND

I was nine years old the first time Phoenix told me he was going to kill himself. Is that too brutal? Sorry. It's where this starts. We were outside, in the morning before it got too hot, kicking around a ball in the scrubby grass. We used the long shadow of the I34Q tower to make the rules--you can't use your hands if you're in the sun, that sorta thing. It was fun because the boundaries of the shadow were always moving with the shape of the tower, and because the tower was a little scary. Phoenix lost a game and just said it, frustrated, "I'm gonna kill myself." I laughed.

When I was that age I loved looking at the shadow of the tower, because it made so much more sense than the real thing. You'd look at the dark, fuzzy stain on the ground and you could imagine it was some sort of antenna, or house, or marker. But then you'd look at the structure itself and your eyes would glaze over trying to figure it out. Unevenly rotating, stacked polyhedral structures, dark gray but covered with a rainbow film like an oil slick. Irregular pieces would be transferred between different sections with no apparent pattern. It smelled like someone you'd never met. The tower was doing something but no one was ever clear on what. That's how it is with I34Q stuff, I think.

I'm stalling. It was some stupid shit, he must've picked it up from some awful caster or something. As a kid Phoenix liked that sorta thing. He'd watch videos of mean people cursing and laughing and he'd laugh with them. I preferred my cartoons, or the I34Q casts, as weird as they were. Later I repeated what he said when I found out my dad was making squash for dinner, "I'm gonna kill myself," and my mom told me off pretty hard. Kept me from saying it again, at least in school and at home. Phoenix kept at it though.

- = -

Phoenix and I got put in the same dormitory when we went to T-school. Do they call it T-school in other places? It's the thing where 4Q tanks (as in I34Q) come and take a bunch of eleven-year-old kids to stay at "training" facilities. No one I've asked knows what T-school is actually for, same as the towers, same as all the 4Q stuff like I said before. An organic shape attached to the ground heads a classroom, gibbering except for the occasional english sentence (Phoenix said he also recognized some Cantonese). Mrs. Lough, who apparently also lives in the facility, tries to teach "formalist english," which is like english but the rules contradict themselves. You take notes on the behavior of a tank filled with inky fluid for four hours a week. One day a three-legged machine packs up your stuff and shepherds you to the gate.

I was ejected a year and a half after Phoenix. I went home on the bus and met him at burger king that afternoon. I caught a glimpse of him from outside. His hair was in long, tight braids. I felt self-conscious about the uncontrollable smile growing on my face. "Aco!" he said through a grin as I opened the glass door. A green poster advertised a meal made from "water beads," an I34Q plant thing.

"Dang," I said, grinning as I sat down. "Dang."

"You make it out? Fuck you to 4Q?" He'd stopped eating to greet me. His grin looked as uncontrollable as mine. Phoenix's nose was wide and flat, also like mine.

"Fork you, 4Q." I still felt nervous about cursing. I was fourteen. "How ya doing, Phoenix?"

"I'm good, I'm good. High school is interesting."

"Oh, man..."

"It's actually like, fucking nice to understand what's happening. But now there are actual smart kids and you actually get punished when you, y'know, mouth off. I'm like, I gotta get around to--" He swiped with his hand, bent his neck, and made a cracking sound with his mouth. I laughed. "Don't worry, I'll show you around. Maybe we'll have a class together."

- = -

We did have a class together. High school with Phoenix was fun, because I got to have a proper crush on him. Pining, sexuality, youthful obsession, yards and yards of it. It was weird, we kinda drifted--Phoenix hung out with kids that I was afraid of, I hung out with kids who played too many videogames. As our familiarity waned, I started seeing him differently. A foreign, adult desire began to penetrate me, replacing childish affection. It took me a while to realize that's what was happening.

It was a shame our familiarity waned, though, because Phoenix was really struggling, and I didn't see it. His friends were mean, when they weren't outright abusive. Not a lot of people liked him. I learned later that he started hurting himself when he was sixteen. Little cigarette burns, and then cuts. He got put on meds at seventeen--the wrong meds, for a year. He went to a psych ward when he was nineteen. His family did not have the money to pay for an extended stay. I still don't know exactly how that worked out. I do know he went into debt after his second stay two years later.

I wasn't doing too well myself, after I hit twenty-two. Something in me broke I guess. So when Phoenix told me he was going to travel to the Santitos digger and throw himself off a cliff, it didn't take me very long to ask if I could go with him.

- = -

"I... I didn't..." He paused for a long time. Ten seconds of silence feels unbearably long in a conversation, and I was quiet for fifteen. My teeth held each other tightly as his thoughts whirled. "I didn't..." He looked me in the eyes. There was an intensity to both our gazes. He'd stuck his jaw out, just a little. "I guess I did. I was, kinda, hoping you'd say that."

"Fuck," I said, looking away and down. "Fuck." I put a hand over my eyes, gripping my face as tears came.

"I'm gonna die," he said, beginning to smile and looking up. I felt the discomfort I'd felt since we were nine.

"Yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go," I said, pulling my hand away midway through and looking back at him with a force I didn't recognize.

He looked back at me and said, "I'm gonna die, and you're gonna die with me."

- = -

The Santitos digger is in northern California, in the Redwood national park. People have figured out the basic idea of what the digger is doing, unlike the towers or the T-schools: the digger is making a big hole. I'd heard that in some places it had dug more than a mile, almost straight down. Don't ask me how the digger would've done that. Don't ask me why it's called Santitos, either, since it's pretty big and not very saintly. Maybe it was the name of a town. Getting to the digger from Prince George County was about fifty hours.

"I figure we could do it in three days if we really fuck-you-pushed-it. But I'm planning on five." I craned my neck to look at Phoenix's cracked phone screen, where he'd pulled up the route.

Gas is expensive because 4Q takes most of it. Basically no one flies. Even in Phoenix's hybrid, it would be a thousand dollars to get to the west coast. But it's not like we'd need the money afterwards.

"We'll eat along the way," he continued. I bit my thumbnail. "I'm not picky, we'll just stop at wherever they won't run us out of town."

We'd sleep in the car. It was April, so temperature wouldn't be a concern. I packed a change of clothes, a water bottle, my meds, and a box cutter I'd stolen from my last job.

The next morning, he pulled his blue, dented '38 prius in front of my apartment building. I saw the car arrive out the window. There was an anxious pit in my stomach that deepened when I opened my front door. I didn't want anyone to see me. This is it, I thought, this is it, this is it. I repeated that phrase down the stairs. My landlord could fucking charge rent to my corpse, I could give a shit. This is it, I thought. That final T stretched to enrobe me. The sky was gray and wet. The sensation wasn't enough to rip me from my inwards reverie. I was about to get in the back of the car when Phoenix spoke. "That ain't it."

He was leaning out the window, regarding me coolly. "Morning. Shall we go?" I walked around the car and got in the front seat.

- = -

Virginia is beautiful once you get into the mountains, forested and rolling. I told Phoenix, "Once I read the Appalachians are millions of years old, and used to be taller than the Himalayas."

"No shit. Was there like an Everest? Where's the old Everest?"

"I don't know, I never heard anything about that. But yeah the continental plates looked totally different. And then things changed and the rain and wind and plants broke them down."

"Hah. Fucking awful. Just being broken down like that. I mean, it's better than what 4Q did to Everest."

I was quiet for a moment. "That's... the worst thing they did, right?"

"I dunno, dude, I think taking kids from their families is worse."

"No, right, right. But like... Everest was like... like everyone knew about Everest. When I was really little I had this big book about mountains and I read the bit on Everest so many times. And now it's like... they made it about them. And people lived in the Himalayas before 4Q came! It forced everyone out and carved a bunch of nonsense into it. A forever reminder that we're below them."

"Hah, literally. Hmmm. I still wouldn't say worst, but, I get what you mean. I'm so numb to it. It's good some people still care." Phoenix shrugged. "I mean I dunno. It doesn't matter much to me, at this point. But from an outside perspective it's good."

That first evening was alright. I drove Phoenix into a beautiful sunset. You hear the phrase "rode off into the sunset" and you think, what a nice ending, but it's not really an ending. If you're the cowboy you keep riding, and eventually the sky darkens and you have to set up camp and eat and sleep and wake up the next morning and eat and go riding again. A feeling of dread and desperation fills me when I think of surviving alone like that. Maybe I'd get used to it. The trip to Santitos was an attempt to write a story with a proper ending.

We didn't stop until we crossed into Illinois. We parked on the shoulder of a country road. I used the light in the car to look at the atlas we'd bought for when we didn't have cell service, and laughed. "We've been in five states today. Pretty good. Keep it up and we'll have visited every state by June."

"What the--?" Phoenix snorted, laughing. "You mean if we visit five states a day. Asshole."

I always giggled when he snorted and called me an asshole. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Fucking dumb. Doesn't even work. You'd have to wake up in a different state than you fell asleep in." He caught my eye. The smile felt intimate, mutual. Born of sleepy exhaustion from a shared journey. I looked at the divot between his nose and upper lip.

I realized something. "Shit, I forgot to bring a blanket."

"Poor baby. You cold?"

"Hmm. I guess not really."

"Oh, you know what I do have..." He leaned towards me and reached toward the back seat. I watched his shirt stretch over his chest. Phoenix retrieved a big gray sweater. "Feel free to stretch it out."

My fingertips touched the back of his hands as I took the bundle. I did that on purpose. His skin was warmer than I expected, as skin always is. We tipped our seats back. Not the most comfortable, though the sweater would help, hopefully. I checked out Phoenix to see him on his side, looking at me and smiling. I let my own smile relax into me as I watched his eyes. His irises were a rich, beautiful brown. His skin was the color of cardboard in your childhood memories. I loved the way his smile wasn't symmetrical, wider on one side than the other. I carefully resisted scanning my gaze down his body. I actually saw his eyes flick down my form, instantaneously. His eyelids half-lowered, and then, horribly, what seemed to be a great tide of sadness overtook him. I watched him hold it back. I watched his smile mix with growing grief and fear, then bow to neutrality. He covered his gaze with his eyelids, breathed in, breathed out. "All right," he whispered, then opened his eyes. The gaze was gone. "Time to sleep." He sat up and turned off the light.

The sweater had a very particular, subtle smell to it. I guess it was his smell. I was desperately horny, yet blasted to pieces. A heady mix.

"I think I could fall in love with you, if things were a little different." He broke the silence, fifteen minutes later. "I probably would. But I'd cling to you like a fucking baby. And you're here, right?" He paused. For a response? I didn't give him one in time. "That's what I mean, codependent hell. I'd only be alive for you, and you'd only be alive for me, and then the second anything goes wrong we'd be right back here except I'd, fucking, direct all my shittiness at you... and you'd blame yourself."

I was quiet. "Ain't... ain't being codependent better than dying?"

"Hah! But that's what I'm saying, it doesn't change anything, it just leads us back here."

I fumbled for something. "Yeah but if it could... like stave it off..."

"Why is that good? The world is fucked, Acoatl, totally and truly fucked. Things don't get better from here, for me, for people. Should I beg? Stay here in misery out of some misplaced sense of morality? We're doing the only thing that makes sense."

I stayed quiet, not unconvinced. Sleep came, eventually, uncomfortably, anxiously.

- = -

The International Astronomical Union provisionally called it 8I/2034 Q1. I had to look that up. The eighth interstellar comet discovered, identified in 2034. I don't know what Q1 means. The name was briefly changed to 8I/Pasarati, for the research group that had discovered it, but by that time I34Q was clearly accelerating non-gravitationally and on an Earthbound trajectory. 8I/Pasarati is still in orbit, technically. You can see it through a telescope, it's like five miles across. But I34Q is the name for all of it, the craft that came to the surface, the life it brought with it, the structures it built, the war, all the consequences. No one can make any sense of it, except the one thing everyone knows: something else controls the world now.

- = -

I just barely remember waking up to switch seats in the morning, and then desiring nothing more than to return to sleep. Eventually Phoenix nudged me awake. "Hey." We were parked somewhere in Missouri. I'd slept all the way through the night and Phoenix's turn to drive. At least twelve hours, depending on when I actually fell asleep last night. I'd missed the big arch in St. Louis.

Phoenix was curt and reserved as I drove. I thought he was still thinking about last night, or angry at me for leaving him alone on his drive. Then he tilted his head back and began to gag. "My... heart..." Tears streamed down him face.

"Phoenix." I glanced back and forth between him and the road. There were abandoned cars on the shoulder; I couldn't pull over. "Phoenix, Phoenix, um."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop." He bent, heaved, and emitted a yowling, harsh retch. Nothing else left his mouth. "My heart..." He was breathing hard. A panic attack, I realized, stupidly too late.

"Do we have..." Panic attacks can be interrupted with certain intense sensations. The general goal is to increase awareness of the environment, focus the mind on the current moment rather than the future or past. Holding an ice cube can help. There were no ice cubes. I reached into the back seat for my water bottle, which would at least be cool. A truck behind us laid on the horn. I swerved back into my lane. "Sorry." Phoenix dry heaved again. It was a uniquely distressing sound.

I searched for the hazards, feeling useless. Far too much time passed before I found them and started slowing down. A different truck laid on a different horn. I was able to slip in a gap on the shoulder between an abandoned pickup and a rusting minivan.

I led Phoenix onto the tall grass beyond the asphalt, where he collapsed onto all fours. His torso flexed as he heaved. I put a hand on his back. "Phoenix, look at the trees." There were bushy, broken trees lining the sides of the highway, a vibrant green against the blue and white sky. "The, listen to the road." No, the road was stressing me the fuck out. "Listen to the grass waving, feel it." Stalks crumpled in his fists. I twisted my head and saw the tip of an I34Q tower peeking up over the treeline. "Look, a tower, just like when we were kids." Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed, his heaving stopped. But the tears stayed. He sobbed away the panic. I read somewhere that tears actually contain different chemicals depending on the emotion causing them. Something to do with hormones I think.

He apologized to me. I would've done the same thing. I've done the same thing. So I got it, but felt indignant at having understood--he didn't need to apologize!

We got back on the road and listened to static on the radio. Sometimes the edge of a station would pass by, and we'd get fuzzy country, or christian rock. I changed it whenever there was a sermon. Sermons always come back to 4Q and they're always awful. The 4Q broadcasts are actually better than sermons about 4Q. They're kind of like static, anyway, totally unintelligible. We encountered more of them than I expected. Maybe static itself is a 4Q broadcast. I don't think that's right, I think static is like cosmic background radiation. But maybe 4Q has changed it somehow, like it used to be white noise and now it's blue noise, a different random distribution but still random.

"I'm off my meds," he said, as we rolled into darkness. The moon was a crescent, low on the western horizon. He spoke flatly and calmly. "I didn't even bring them with me. I thought you should know."

I hesitated. I wanted to voice this diplomatically. But then, we'd be dead in four days, anyway. "Is that why you had the attack?"

"No. I panic even on meds." That made sense. I remembered a few times in the past year when he'd canceled an event with little notice, or left early. "But I'm not a person right now, and that's definitely because I'm off my meds."

"You're not a person right now?"

"Yeah. It's called depersonalization. Also derealization, which is when nothing is real. Or that's how it feels, as I'm told. It's pretty freaky if I'm honest. You don't get the same emotional reaction from stuff. It feels like you're watching from somewhere else." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down. "You're not you. You're not even real." He whispered. "Pretty freaky."

"Can I--do you--"

"Ahh, I'm coming out of it. Some of it is just recognizing that you're in it." He drew a knee up to his chest and shook his head. "Uhh, could you. Could you hold my hand. Touch helps."

I gripped the wheel with my left hand and held his palm with my right. It was warm and sweaty. I wish I could say that was okay. I felt miserable. I wanted to feel happy, holding his hand, comforting him. I didn't.

Sleep came quicker that night, though still uncomfortable, still anxious.

- = -

I slept late, again. I hadn't touched the chicken sandwich I'd gotten from a drive-thru last night. It had awful 4Q stuff on it anyway. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, so I was pretty hungry, but I had no actual desire to eat. I'd deal with it later.

My own panic attack must've seemed similarly unbidden to Phoenix, though I felt it coming about an hour beforehand, and tried to stave it off. We were on I-80, driving through the hypnotizing flatness of Nebraska. Every ten or fifteen minutes I kept seeing this scarlet structure. It was like a giant, bloody caricature of a water tower, a skinny, triangular column maybe ten feet across and at least two hundred feet tall, supporting an enormous squashed sphere more than twice as wide as the column was tall. I'd watch it rise from the horizon, far too big. I'd never seen them before but guessed they must be 4Q. I started thinking we were somehow traveling in a loop, that my sense of direction was faulty and we were passing the same structure in the same field over and over again. Then I started thinking about how crazy that sounded. But I couldn't stop the thought.

I wanted to pull over but I couldn't stop anywhere in view of the structure, because it was watching me. Of course it wasn't, but I couldn't stop the thought that it was. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe only the mad can decode the purpose of I34Q stuff. I felt how hard I was breathing and glanced over at Phoenix, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was staring down. He was probably disassociating again, I realized later, but at the time all I knew was that I was alone.

I get angry at myself after my attacks. I feel so stupid. Phoenix apologized to me that night, which made me feel even stupider. I couldn't wait to get to the Santitos digger.

- = -

The next day was bad. Quiet, lonely, and frustrated. A further reminder of the reasons. I saw patches of 4Q purple grass climbing up the Rockies. We both took long shifts and entered Redwood park just after midnight.

- = -

I read a story once about a man that was falling in the dark. He was falling so far that he would die instantly when he hit the ground. He realized that his brain wouldn't have time to process the impact, or even the few moments before. And he couldn't see the ground. He couldn't see anything. All that was left in the world was him and his death. I wondered if Phoenix had read the same story, and was hoping for a similar effect, coming here at night. Of course, we got it wrong. There were clouds, burgundy with light pollution, and every few minutes a star would gaze through; an unearthly glow was cast up from distant pieces of the digger.

Some parts of the digger looked like the towers, spinning and shifting. Some parts looked like exposed microelectronics, cables sutured to shiny terminals of minute complexity. Some parts were just made of asphalt blocks, cream-, gray-, and lime-colored pebbles tightly embedded in dark tar. Distant redwoods, many damaged by fire, ringed the horizon. The Santitos digger was less an object and more a place.

I felt wordlessly close to Phoenix as we scrambled over asphalt, looking for a pit. We touched each other frequently in our effort, to assist, to communicate. We'd have to give each other boosts, lift each other up, look for alternate routes. This place was not made for people.

Finally we came upon a deep canyon. I had half a mind to walk off the edge immediately. But both Phoenix and I stopped to regard it.

I couldn't tell if the rumors were true. You could only see maybe a hundred yards down before the walls of the abyss disappeared into ink. Or, not ink--not blackness, either. People are black. This was something else. The most prominent features were the semi-perceivable red blotches left on my optic nerve after gazing at one of the digger's glowing sectors. The unknowable told me nothing. It just revealed the flaws of my being. Maybe we would achieve our effect after all.

"This is it," I said, elliptically. The beginning is the end. If you take out the 'h' that phrase is a palindrome. "That was the first thing I said out of the door before I got into your car on Saturday. If you take out the 'h' the phrase is a palindrome. The beginning is the end. This is elliptical. This is it."

"That ain't it." He was regarding me coolly.

I laughed.

He was angry. "Are you fucking kidding me? The point of this thing, the whole fucking point is you do it in your right mind. You're letting your madness make the decision for you. You have to make the decision!"

I found that extremely funny. I laughed harder.

"Shut up! Fuck!"

"What's a right mind?" I asked, still grinning. "There's no such thing anymore. Even when it was a thing, all it meant was the most socially-acceptable, capital-promoting mind. Now? The world doesn't fit us anymore. The human condition is inconvenient to its purpose. 4Q can't even train us. The right mind is a dead one. You want a right mind, go ahead." I gestured at the abyss. That's what I did.

He stepped forward. He stepped forward. A foot hung above the end.

I don't know what I would've done if he had lowered that foot, changing his balance, tipping him forward. Jumping in after him wouldn't have felt right. Maybe I'd have gone back to those red eyes in Nebraska and begged for them to torture me. Maybe his idiosyncrasies would have been repelled by the unknowable, flowing away from his body and into me, and I'd be lost forever in a derealized paranoia. Maybe I'd have gotten in the car and driven back home.

His foot remained, hanging, the edge a gallows. "Suicide is about pain. It's the ultimate response to ongoing distress. I never wanted you to be normal. I just didn't want you to be in pain. In a twisted way, I guess I thought, if this was your way of dealing with pain, I wasn't going to stop you. That is your right. I feel like that has to be your right." His balance was incredible. He remained still, a tree without wind. "But you can be abnormal, you can be a bad fit for the world, you can be utterly broken, and you can still live without pain." We're both crying. Tears descend into the pit.

| ' , |

I do think madness is the right way to understand I34Q. I feel this mysteriously. I wonder what it would be like if I tried going to T-school while embracing my altered states, living in them. I suspect Phoenix would have more success, being more comfortable with unreality. Not that either of us would participate in whatever hegemony 4Q perpetuates. More that we'd figure out what it wanted, and how to resist. I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe other people are, too. We need to find each other.

Phoenix and I wandered north. We found this incredible queer community in Oregon, with actual traditions and mechanisms to deal with communal trauma. I can't say anything about the world, the world is unknowable. But I think there's hope for us.

Phoenix and I are together, now, in a way I can't quite name. We did finally make love. That was beautiful. But we don't live together. I make love to other people, sometimes, and he does the same. Sometimes I'll go a week or two without seeing him, without notice. Sometimes I'll go a few days without even thinking about him. I love him, and I tell him that, and he says the same to me, though both of us have admitted that we don't know what that means.

We still panic. I still get paranoid. Phoenix disassociates. He's been using the state to make art. I think about I34Q and write down what I think. I'm pretty good at eating regularly, even if I don't feel like it. I don't know if we're living without pain. I think maybe that's a pretty tall order. But I don't want to kill myself anymore. So I think that's pretty good.

[Ed.: have this little treat. It takes me about the length of this playlist to read the story.]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VD5lJJqNUJsITPj3Rg8Sn?si=d262096479104d4f

[dettiot]

Luke ending up back in time and instead of being worried about Anakin’s fall he’s more concerned about being born at all after seeing Anakin’s awkward flirting. Surprisingly Padme is into it

I wasn’t feeling the time travel angle, so I went in a different direction. Hope you enjoy!

“Are you gonna get that, Skywalker?” 

“I’m busy,” Luke said as he kissed Mara’s neck, ignoring the chiming of his comlink. 

His fiancee huffed and pushed at him, reaching down to pluck the comlink off his belt. “If this is Leia, I’m gonna tell her why you were gonna ignore her.” 

“And I’ll tell her what I was doing,” Luke countered, grinning at her. 

She rolled her eyes and thumbed the comlink. “Luke Skywalker’s comm.” 

“Hello, this is Lina Jinzle,” a brisk female voice said. “I’m part of the archaeological team working on the Mount Tantiss project. We’ve discovered something we thought Master Skywalker might be interested in.” 

Luke took the comlink and spoke into it. “This is Luke Skywalker. What is it, Ms. Jinzle?” 

“We discovered some datacards with security drone footage from the pre-Clone Wars era. And based on the facial recognition algorithms we used . . . it would appear the footage features your father.” 

XXX

With a degree of hesitation, Luke set up his holounit to play the datacards he had received from Lina Jinzle. Seeing his father as he was--young, alive, unscarred by battle and struggle . . . 

He wasn’t sure how he would react to seeing Anakin Skywalker like that. 

At least Mara was here with him. Her clear-eyed outlook would help keep him from falling into despair. 

“All right, Farmboy, drink up.” 

A glass of starshine appeared in front of him, and he took it before giving her a skeptical look, complete with raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna need it at some point. Might as well have it now,” she said practically as she sat down beside him with her own glass. 

She wasn’t wrong. So Luke threw back the starshine and sat back on the sofa, cueing the holounit to begin playing the footage. 

The footage was in surprisingly good condition. Good enough that when the image filled the screen, Luke sucked in a breath. 

“Wow,” Mara said softly. “I . . . I didn’t realize how much you look like him.” 

He couldn’t help leaning forward. “He’s taller than me.”

“It wasn’t just the suit, apparently,” Mara said, resting a hand on Luke’s back. 

Shaking his head, Luke kept watching the footage. His father looked so young. Perhaps not even twenty yet, based on the Padawan braid Luke recognized from his readings on the former Jedi. He was walking with a ginger-haired and bearded man--it could only be--

“Ben,” Luke breathed out. 

Seeing his father with his Master, with Luke’s first Master, made something twist inside Luke. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep watching--but he also didn’t want to stop. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan walked towards a transport, stepping onto it. After a few moments, Anakin left, now accompanied by a petite woman, dressed in some kind of elaborate headdress and matching robes. And following them--

“Artoo!” Luke said in surprise.

“What’s the little tin can doing there?” Mara said, tilting her head. “Because that’s definitely your droid.” 

“I don’t know,” Luke said, continuing to watch, but resolving to check with Artoo as soon as the video was over. 

The landscape changed from what was clearly Coruscant to a planet unlike anything Luke had ever seen. It was so . . . so green. The camera flew over lush fields, then circled around an elegant-looking villa on the shore of a large lake. Between the soft sound of waves and the distant mountains, the whole aura was one of peace and serenity.

“Different footage from a much better security drone,” Mara said quietly beside him. “‘Cause this has got sound.” 

Before Luke could reply, the camera on the camera drone zoomed in, focusing on two people on a balcony. One of them was Anakin, and the other was the same woman as before, Luke guessed. Only now, she was wearing a flowing dress in shades of cream, pink and blue, one that exposed her shoulders and her back. 

“I love the water,” the woman said. “We used to lie out on the sand and let the sun dry us and try to guess the names of the birds singing.” 

Anakin and the unknown woman came to a pause at the end of the balcony, leaning on the railing. 

“I don't like sand,” Anakin said. Luke wasn’t sure, but it appeared he was reaching out to touch the woman’s hand. “It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. Not like here. Here everything is soft and smooth.” 

Luke blinked. Was--was his father flirting?

Then his eyes widened as Anakin leaned in and kissed the woman. 

“What--why--I don’t--” Luke spluttered. 

“Considering where this footage was found, I suspected it was Palpatine behind this from the beginning,” Mara said, rubbing his back. “He probably wanted to keep an eye on your father whenever he left Coruscant.”

“No!” Luke said, turning to look at Mara. “How did a line like ‘I don’t like sand’ work? Why is she letting him kiss her?”

Mara stared at him, then snorted with laughter. “Luke. You don’t wear a dress like she’s wearing if you’re not interested in the man you’re with.” 

Of course, Mara would know, but . . . but still!

Luke turned back to the screen. The footage had advanced, showing some kind of picnic in a field of tall grass and wildflowers. The woman was in yet another elaborate gown, her brown hair loose and curly. 

As the footage continued, showing his father smiling at the woman and her smiles in return, Luke found himself watching her as much as Anakin. Could . . . could this woman be his mother? Her brown hair and eyes certainly reminded him of Leia. 

As the footage continued to what looked like a dinner, Mara said, “I’d kill for this woman’s wardrobe.” 

He huffed out a small laugh and nodded. The camera somehow managed to follow his father and the woman into another room after dinner. Their conversation was somewhat muted, but still audible. 

“From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you,” Anakin said, gazing at the woman. As soon as he began speaking, she rose to her feet and turned away from him. This put her face in the direct line of the camera, allowing her expression to be clearly visible. To see the sadness, the longing, playing out over her face as his father kept speaking.

“And now that I'm with you again... I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you- I can't breath. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating... hoping that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... what can I do?- I will do anything you ask. If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me.”

Luke had heard enough. He waved his hand to pause the playback. “I don’t understand.” 

“What, Luke?” Mara asked, moving closer to him. 

“This woman--my father has known her for years, he said, and he’s clearly in love with her, and he is talking like some second-rate holodrama hero, and . . . and she likes it?” Luke rose to his feet, running his hands through his hair. “I just . . . it doesn’t fit with anything I know about my father.” 

Mara sighed softly. “Luke, what do you really know about him? Not much. And seeing him in love . . . that’s very different from any other side of him, it would seem.” 

“If you were in her place,” Luke said, gesturing to the woman on screen, “would you have fallen for all of that?” 

She shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, she definitely is.” Mara cocked an eyebrow at him. “And really . . . you knew it had to be something like this. Otherwise you and Leia wouldn’t be here.” 

Blowing out a breath, Luke drew on the Force to center himself, then sat back down. He took Mara’s hand and gazed at her. “Do you think that’s my mother?” 

Mara’s eyes drifted back to the screen. She nodded. “Yes.” 

“She looks like Leia,” Luke said in agreement, looking back at the screen. He reached out, using the Force to start the holounit again. He wrapped an arm around Mara, pulling her close as they watched the rest of the footage, which soon shifted to his father fighting battles, training a Togruta Padawan, and leading his men through the Clone Wars. 

Yet as impressive as Anakin Skywalker was in the heat of battle, Luke felt like that wasn’t really his father. No, his father was the man who romanced a beautiful, intelligent woman, who was honest enough to tell her the truth, despite what the Jedi Code said. 

And perhaps someday, he would know about the woman who was enough to capture his father’s heart. 

End.

My Star Wars Fic Masterlist

[purplesurveys]

707

Do you think you're clever? I can be but I wouldn’t say it’s a dominant personality trait. Did you wear socks today? No, I haven’t worn socks since the last day I went to school :/ Can you remember how you celebrated your 10th birthday? I don’t remember how the whole day went but I do have a photo of me on that day. We were in our old house then and I was at the dining area smiling with my cake, surrounded by my mom and sister.

Know any magic tricks? Nah I can’t perform any of them. Do you sleep well most nights? These days I certainly do. They’ve suspended online classes, and acads is really the main thing taking up my time (and head) most days until recently. Without that I’m just sleeping, eating, and having random bursts of productivity everyday.

Are your nails painted? No. Is there somebody you know that you really don't trust? Yeah I have a couple of orgmates that are a little sketchy. I also dunno if I can trust my mom in the bigger scheme of things - we’re just not close like that. Is there music in your head right now? No need to have it playing in my head, I already have a lo-fi livestream playing on YouTube at the moment. When's the last time you baked a cake? Grade 6 when we baked a rainbow cake in home economics. What time was it half an hour ago? 7:26 PM. Did you ever play cowboys and indians when you were growing up? I have no idea what that game is. Probs an American thing? Can anyone confirm? When did it last rain? My dad said it drizzled earlier this afternoon, but I wouldn’t know because I was taking a nap. The last time it rained and I caught it was two nights ago. Would you like to become a dancer? I would love to be able to dance gracefully and call myself a dancer, but I wouldn’t want it to be my Number One Agenda, as in joining contests or have it be my whole career and stuff. It’ll be nice to simply have it as a hobby. What colour is the bathroom of your house painted? The top half of the wall is white, the bottom half consists of light brown tiles. Which country is to the north of your home country? Taiwan. Name one person of the same sex as you you wouldn't mind doing: My girlfriend. Haaaaah you thought. What is the most gory film you've seen? Evil Dead, but I’ve only seen the 2013 reboot. Is there anybody that you know that you just feel really sorry for? Yeah I guess, like my uncle for stubbornly never getting his life back on track. I’ve been done waiting for him to get better. Do you like the Austin Powers films? I’ve never seen any one of them, even the one Beyoncé is in.

Where is the worst place you have ever travelled to? All the places I’ve been to have been wonderful and it wouldn’t feel right to tag one of them as the ‘worst’ because all the trips have been paid for by my parents lmao. But the one trip that didn’t exactly turn out the way we would’ve wanted it to was Caramoan in Camarines Sur. It was raining almost the entire time, so the scenario was either 1) the rain messed with the cable signal and we only had one channel every time we were in the cabin or 2) we had to make do with being rained on whenever we wanted to go out to the beach. It was also in the middle of nowhere, so we didn’t have internet. Ever fallen down a hole? Nope. That’s one of the scenarios I’m particularly afraid of. Do you like to read poetry? No I hate having to. I’ve never understood poems. What's your preferred frozen snack? Other than ice cream? Idk, frozen fries maybe? Those hit differently. Is rap music overrated? I’d say some are, but rap generally has a rich underground culture as well so I wouldn’t say all of it is overrated. Do you work better in a clean or messy environment? That doesn’t matter to me. I care more about how warm/cold it is, because I can’t start working anywhere I find too hot or else I’ll feel too sluggish. Do you know any vegans? Only from the internet. Filipinos are big meat eaters so it’s hard to find resources for if you want to become vegan. There are vegan food stalls but they’re VERY few and far between, and they’re typically situated in hipper, more cosmopolitan parts of the city since veganism isn’t a known concept here. Earphones or headphones? Earphones. Do you like bananas? Eugh no. What's a film you've seen that confused you? Interstellar confuses me to this day. But I loved it a lot and I enjoyed the premise, and that’s what matters to me. Do you ever wear black lipstick? I don’t think I’ve ever worn it before. You can take any illegal drug without any bad consequences, which one? That’s a really dark question but uh... I’d go with meth because idk, Breaking Bad? I certainly wouldn’t want to try heroin though. What is next to your bed? I have a drawer with my clothes and other knickknacks on one side, and a chest with a bunch of memorabilia and old books I’ve had since I was a kid on the other side. Are your fingernails dirty? Nope. What would you change about yourself appearence-wise? I’d straighten my front teeth and make my teeth in general smaller. I’d also have some hair grow on my left eyebrow because I permanently damaged the hair growth there by plucking too much as an anxiety habit. How long do you normally spend in the shower? Depends on how relaxed I need to feel. If I’m showering for school it takes me 4-5 minutes. If it’s been hot all day like in the summer I’d take up to 15. When's the last time somebody called you "baby"? Sometime today, I don’t exactly remember when. Have you ever had to keep something important from your family? Like... my 4-year same-sex relationship? Yup. Don't you think things feel much better after a good cry? The things that made me cry don’t get better or automatically get fixed, but it’s always nice to give myself a break and to let everything out. Do you think the UK should keep its monarchy? I honestly don’t know enough about their system to confidently form an opinion about it. My only contribution to this conversation is that the royal family does interest me and I know more trivia about them than the average person should hahahahaha. True or false: you'd do Mila Kunis. I’d do her character in Friends with Benefits but like I don’t really feel that way for IRL Mila, mostly cos I’d rather do wholesome stuff with her hahaha. Which colour would you rather have your hair: pink, grey or green? Green > grey > pink. Don't you just hate the sound of people eating? NOOOOOOO are you kidding. Mukbang ASMRs are my faveeeeeee. What's your favourite music video? Meh I don’t really watch music videos. Is it your aim to be perfect? About the things I do, yeah. I’m not obsessed about having *everything* be perfect, even stuff I have no control over.. Ever climbed to the top of a mountain? No. That’s on my bucket list though. Have you ever fell for someone believing you could "fix" them? No. That’s never been a reason I’ve had feelings for someone. Someone's paying for a fancy dinner, where do you eat and who do you take? BLACKBIRD. I’ve wanted to try it for a while now but Makati is a bitch to get to + their food would literally take away two weeks’ worth of my allowance. I’d take Gab with me for sure. Can you honestly say you are truly happy with your life? Not right now, but I’m not hopeless about it either. Can you paint well? I can’t paint at all. Describe a picture of yourself that you hate: The candid ones are the ones I end up hating the most. If you could keep any animal as a pet, which would you choose? Just all the dogs would be fine, thanks. Something you did in the past that you're embarrassed about: I was bidding Gab’s dad goodbye because he was leaving to meet up with his friends or something. Anyway my shoes chose to be slippery that day and I completely tripped the whole way walking over to him and I even unconsciously grabbed onto his arm to keep myself from falling flat on my face. I AM WINCING JUST TYPING THIS OUT PLS SEND HELP Would you rather play a good or an evil character in a play? Evil. It’d be easier acting that way. Do you like porridge? It’s alright. I mostly avoid it because it was all I ate for breakfast from when I was 4 up to when I was 10, and I’m so so sick of the taste and texture by now.

Has anybody ever lied to you just to impress you? Idk, probably. Strangest gift you ever received: Don’t think I’ve ever received anything I was genuinely baffled by. But I try not to be like that - all gifts are gifts so I’m always grateful whenever someone gives me one. Do most people annoy you? Nah. But 14 year old Robyn taking surveys would probably say yes just to sound edgy :/ Don't you think you should really be doing something more productive? Idk man we’re in the middle of a global health crisis. I think being productive shouldn’t be a priority for once. Have you ever felt really out of place? Yesssssss this was me when I was trying to apply for AIESEC. The crowd was just too different and I didn’t last long in the application process. What's your favourite shade of blue? Royal and sky blue. Do you have any odd phobias? I used to be afraid of watching advertisements at night, but I think it’s mostly gone now. What's the longest you've gone without sleep? 18-20 hours maybe. I don’t let myself pull all-nighters. When was the last time you just wanted to be left alone? Earlier this noon when I felt disrespected by my dad. Do you believe in karma? Sure. Can you remember a world before iPods? Nope. Google says the first iPod came out in 2001, and I don’t remember being 3 years old or younger. When was the last time it was sunny? This morning. Would you like to be photographed by Terry Richardson? I’ve never heard of him but I checked Google just now and apparently he’s been an asshat to his subjects? So no. Smoke? Yes please I so have been needing one throughout this quarantine. I ran out of puffs for my vape pen which is even worse. Would you rather have a lazy day or a day of being really busy? I’ve had 31+ lazy days now. I wouldn’t mind a busy day. Do you like the way that spoken French sounds? I don’t get to hear it all that much but it was spoken so beautifully in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, so I guess I’m alright with it for the most part. I just don’t like the times it comes from the throat and it sounds a bit like hawking. D: But maybe it’s just a cultural thing - Filipino isn’t throaty at all so when we hear sounds like that we’re just not used to it. What's the best film soundtrack? As stupid as the storylines were, they really made sure the Twilight Saga soundtracks SLAPPED. Bon Iver, St. Vincent, Muse, Death Cab for Cutie, The Black Keys, Florence + The Machine, PARAMORE?????? They weren’t fucking around. Interstellar and Gone with the Wind also had amazing scores. Where did you go on your last date? My informal first date with Gabie was at a museum + this quaint Italian place in Greenbelt that has since closed. My legit first date with her was at a Bonchon LMFAOOOOOOOOOO Do people find you "cute"? Not really... only my girlfriend calls me that. Who does the best remixes? Eh not a fan. What is most of your money spent on? Gas, food, dates.

[matrixaffiliate]

Ojalá - Wilding

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Inspired by the music video to Lindsey Stirling and Andrew McMahon's song Something Wild. (Before you ask, I’ve never seen Pete’s Dragon.)

Wilding

Marlene smiled down at the picture in her hand. The marker and colored pencil had faded and the creases from the folds had scotch tape on them now to keep it from tearing into pieces. The dragon that had looked so fearsome when she was ten now looked sweet and endearing at nearly 30. The playground around her had been replaced and updated a few years ago, but if she closed her eyes she could still see where the monkey bars had been, the open area where she used to twirl and dance, and the bench he had been sitting at nearly twenty years previous.

Marlene could still see him too, his black hair falling into his eyes as he drew in his sketchbook. She'd only seen him at this park near her childhood home the one time, that day in mid-June. She'd been dancing to whatever tune had cropped into her mind when she heard a shout of protest. Marlene had turned to see some of the local boys trying to look at his drawings and the new boy trying to cover it all up. The other boys - as children are wont to do - took their frustration out by knocking all his papers and markers and pencils to the ground before running off.

She hadn't been able to help herself. Marlene had rushed to his side and started picking everything up and putting it back on the bench beside him. But when she reached for his sketchbook the boy grabbed her hand with panic in his gray eyes.

"It's alright," she smiled at him, "I won't look at it." She shut her eyes tight and carefully picked up the sketchbook before pushing it toward him.

He slid the book from her hands and Marlene pointed her face down at the ground before opening her eyes again and ensuring everything had been retrieved from the wood chips.

"Thanks," his voice was quiet as he started reloading all his things into his backpack.

"You're welcome," she smiled up at him.

His returning smile was small but it made her feel like she'd done something right.

"Want to see something?" He looked around to ensure that the other boys were occupied elsewhere.

"Sure."

Marlene sat next to him as he turned the sketchbook open and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper from his backpack.

"I'm a dragon hunter," he showed her his drawing of a green dragon and unrolled the other paper, "and this map shows where I think this one lives. It's through those trees back there." He pointed behind them, "And if you want, you can come with me and we can go searching for him."

Twenty years later, Marlene's heart still raced as she remembered running into the trees with him, in search of dragons. The game had been maybe twenty minutes long, but Marlene based all her conceptions of magic off of those twenty minutes where she was certain that it wasn't a game.

She still could see the dragon flying through the trees above them. She could still feel the security of the dragon hunter's hand as he helped her up the retaining walls and rock mounds. She could still hear his hushed voice as he pointed out into the clearing and murmured that the moss-covered mound they saw was the dragon, that they'd found him!

And she believed his whispers. She believed in the magic he'd spun around her, and she believed they'd crossed oceans and climbed mountains to get there.

The game ended far too soon when her mother called her back. Before Marlene could leave though, the dragon hunter stopped her and wordlessly handed her his picture of the dragon - their dragon.

She'd thrown her arms around him and he'd clung to her for half a second before immediately dropping his arms.

That was the last time she saw the dragon hunter, and as playing children often do, she'd never asked his name, nor given him hers.

Marlene opened her eyes to the real world. She wondered if she'd even be able to make her way back to that green mound they'd called a dragon, if she could find the trickle of a stream that had been the ocean they crossed, or the pile of rocks that had been their mountain.

She sighed as she realized that the answer was probably not. It was so long ago, and so much of it had taken place in her imagination that she wondered if her mind could even accurately remember the reality they'd changed.

Marlene looked down again at the picture in her hand. It was so much simpler then.

She wanted to come back to this place, to feel the way she did when she was ten and life wasn't so complicated. When bills were a foreign concept and jobs didn't take precedence over life. When her cares were only as deep as hoping the dragon hunter would come back one day.

"Excuse me," a voice sounded beside her as she sat on the bench and looked down at the dragon.

Marlene turned to see a man about her age, with black hair and eerily familiar gray eyes.

"Yes," her voice came out a whisper and her heartbeat so hard she was sure anyone could see it pounding through her shirt.

"Have, have you always had that drawing?" he fidgeted with his leather jacket and his black fringe fell slightly into his face.

"It was a gift when I was ten," Marlene bit her lip, waiting to wake up and for reality to drop the other shoe.

"Do you, do you remember who gave it to you?" His voice was tight, and Marlene thought maybe he was waiting for reality to smack him as well.

Marlene tried to smile through her nerves, "He called himself a dragon hunter."

The smile that broke across the man's face looked like the sun had broken through a gray and cloudy day.

"I can't believe you kept it," he gestured to the bench, "May I sit?"

"Of course," Marlene made space and deliberately pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Well, she still felt pain, but she also still felt like she was dreaming.

"You're, you're the dragon hunter?"

He grinned, "You know I've often wondered if we never exchanged names or if I was just an idiot and forgot yours."

Marlene laughed, "We never exchanged names. I've called you the dragon hunter for the last twenty years."

"That name's a right side better than my real one," he chuckled.

"Now I'm afraid to ask," she smirked at him and admired the way his smile made him look more like the boy in her memories.

"Oh it's horrible," he bemoaned, "worse than Wilberforce, Bathsheba, and Elvendork combined."

Marlene's laughter bubbled out of her and she felt her smile break wider across her face.

"Well, my name is rather lovely," she gave him a cheeky grin.

"Any name would be lovely in comparison to my stain of a name," he threw his head back but Marlene saw him glance at her from the corner of his eye.

She smirked, "I certainly wouldn't want to rub salt in your wound with my heavenly name."

"Oh, but your heavenly name would give my poor ears something saintly to listen too," he managed to keep a straight face which only made Marlene laugh harder. "Please, bless me with a reprieve from my wretched name by gracing me with yours."

Marlene laughed harder, "You've picked up quite a bit of game since I last saw you."

He grinned like the Cheshire cat, "I was caught up in hunting dragons back then. I've learned how to balance work and play a bit better now."

"Do you still hunt dragons?" Marlene raised her eyebrows at him, wondering how far he'd play his charade.

"Of course I do," he said it so matter of factly that she almost believed him. "Why on Earth do you think I'm here? I'm back to check on our dragon."

"Do you still have your map?" She'd asked it as a part of the game, but he nodded seriously.

"Yes, but I know this way by heart now, so I keep the map in a safe place." He winked at her, "Can't have everyone knowing where our dragon is, now can we?"

Marlene almost believed him.

"Have you already checked in on our dragon, then?" She sighed wistfully.

"No, but," he held her gaze, "if you tell me your name, I'll take you back to visit him."

Marlene felt like he was weaving a spell around her.

"Follow a man I don't know into a forest? That sounds like a good way to get killed."

He sighed and looked dejectedly out at the park around them, "I know what kind of world we live in, but I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you."

Marlene bit her lip and tried to think clearly. The story he'd woven around her was compelling, and this was why she'd come back in the first place - to experience the freedom that had permeated her childhood. Ultimately, she decided the pepper spray on her key chain would probably give her enough of a head start to get away if he did try to hurt her.

"I'm Marlene, Marlene McKinnon."

His smile spread slowly across his face and he turned back to look at her. "I'm Sirius Black."

"I see why you prefer 'dragon hunter'," she teased.

"Yes," he nodded with a bit of a pout, then he grinned, "I know, just call me 'Dragon Hunter' from now on. It's a much better name."

She rolled her eyes, "You promised to take me back to our dragon."

"Right," he looked at his watch, "and we best step to it, or we'll be late."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the trees.

"Do you remember?" He asked as he pulled her along some unseen path.

"I remember what I imagined," she admitted with a touch of embarrassment.

Sirius blinked and then chuckled, "That's a start."

They quickly made it to the retaining walls she remembered and he jumped up before offering his hand out to her.

"These cliffs are easier if we help pull each other up," he hoisted her up on top with him.

And as they jumped up and over each wall, Marlene couldn't help but feel the way she had at ten as she followed Sirius back along his path.

"We have to climb this mountain up ahead," he murmured next to her as he scanned the treetops for their dragon. "But don't worry, I'll be there to help you."

Marlene smiled at him before looking up at the treetops. For a second she thought she saw the dragon she'd imagined all those years ago.

They scaled the small boulders that were far less intimidating at almost thirty than they had been at ten.

"We're nearly there, Marlene," he whispered as they walked side by side. "The last thing we have to do is cross the ocean, but you were a fair sailor as I recall so I'm sure we'll make it alright."

His smile was warm and Marlene felt her heart-melting all over again, and in ways that at ten she wasn't old enough to understand, but in her late twenties were far more interesting.

"Ah, our boat is still here," Sirius grinned as they approached the tiny stream.

The old large log they'd sat on in their game all those years ago was still there crossing the three feet from stream bank to stream bank, looking worse for wear.

"They don't make them like this beauty anymore," Sirius patted the log fondly before holding out his hand to her. "You still up to do some of the rowing?"

Marlene grinned, as she climbed on and opted to sit cross-legged on the log to keep her black Converse from getting soaked. "Of course I am, where's my oar, Dragon Hunter?"

Sirius grinned before he handed her a long stick and for a moment Marlene thought the stick felt just like the one he'd handed her all those years ago. But before she could think on it too hard, he began narrating their journey across the sea, dictating when they needed to paddle faster or slower, telling her what was around them. At one point he excitedly told her to put her hand in the water and touch the dolphins that were swimming along the ship's side.

And for the briefest second, she thought she could feel them under her fingertips.

"Careful here, we don't want to break the haul as we come ashore." His voice had no humor in it and Marlene found herself carefully maneuvering her oar as her mind envisioned them beaching their boat.

Sirius helped her off their log-turned-boat but didn't let go of her hand.

"I'm sure he remembers you, but he knows me and I don't want to take any chances."

Marlene chuckled but didn't object. The feeling of her hand in his felt secure and it quieted the part of her mind that wanted to be cynical, making it easier to believe him and the magic he'd knit around her.

He led her purposefully through the trees, scanning around them as he walked. It wasn't long before the trees started to clear and Marlene was thrown back to being ten-years-old again as they approached the clearing. Her heartbeat just as quickly now as it had twenty years ago as they crept through the trees toward the dragon.

And then she saw it.

The mound in the clearing she remembered from childhood no longer sat lifeless and covered in moss.

The dragon sat on its hind legs and stared at her with yellow eyes.

Marlene thought she might faint.

"He's real," Sirius' voice was low and directly behind her left ear. "You're not asleep. You're not crazy."

Marlene gripped his hand in hers, her emotions see-sawing between terrified and mesmerized.

The dragon shifted slowly, its hulking body rippling with each movement. Marlene tensed as he began his slow advance towards them.

"He won't hurt you," Sirius soothed and wrapped an arm protectively around her waist. "He remembers you."

Marlene's mind couldn't process any of this, but a small part of her felt like this was real, and that maybe she'd dismissed too much from her memories of her first encounter with the dragon hunter and his dragon.

She clung to that part of her as the dragon sauntered closer.

She thought for a moment the dragon smiled at her, but then his enormous head was eye level with her and she couldn't seem to draw breath.

"Easy there, big guy," Sirius chided and patted the dragon on its scaled nose, "she's getting used to it all."

The dragon huffed and nudged Sirius' hand away. Marlene nearly shrieked as the dragon moved its head against her body, pushing her around its side.

"Alright buddy, we can go for a ride," Sirius chuckled, putting himself between the dragon and Marlene.

"A, a ride?" Marlene felt her hands tremble at the words.

"It's completely safe," Sirius smiled encouragingly at her. "And dragons like to collect pretty things. He knows he can't keep you, but he's going to do his best to make you love him."

Marlene let Sirius lead her to and hoist her up on to the dragon's back. The green scales were smooth and glistened like polished metal as she slid up to behind the wing joints. Sirius climbed up in front of her and then pulled her hands around his middle.

"Hold on tight, I won't let you fall." Then he nudged the dragon's wing with his foot. "Take it slow, my friend, don't scare her."

Marlene would swear on her grandmother's grave the dragon rolled its yellow eyes at Sirius. Then it jumped up through the trees and into the sky, its great wings propelling them forward.

And then all her objections and fear seemed to dissolve away.

It was as though everything clicked, as if a part of her had always known that this was where she was meant to be, what she was supposed to be doing, who she really was.

She didn't know how long they flew, and she didn't pay attention to where they went, but she knew she never wanted to go back to reality. Marlene would gladly let this dragon collect her if it only meant it kept this crazy adventure real.

As the dragon finally nestled back down to the earth, Marlene couldn't stop laughing. She hadn't felt this happy since, well since the last time she'd come here with her dragon hunter.

Sirius chuckled as he helped her down before shaking his head at the dragon. "You win, big guy, I think that was just the ticket. She'll love you through eternity."

Marlene didn't even question when the dragon smiled. Of course, he smiled, why wouldn't dragons smile?

"That was amazing!" Marlene laughed and placed an affectionate hand on the dragon's side, "I don't want to go back!"

Sirius smiled at her like she was everything before offering his hand out to her. "You don't have to, at least not back to the way things were before."

Marlene took his hand confidently this time, her hesitations far behind her. "I'll follow you anywhere, Dragon Hunter."

He chuckled, "How about I buy you dinner to start?"

Marlene sighed, her eyes straying to the dragon, "Do we have to go?"

"He's been here for the last twenty years, and a lot longer than that; he's not going anywhere." Sirius patted the dragon's body as it rummaged through the dirt, for what Marlene could only imagine.

"It won't all disappear when we leave?" Marlene couldn't stand the thought of losing this all again. Of getting twenty years further down the line only to find she'd imagined it all.

"Not if you don't let it," Sirius squeezed her hand, "Not if you come back to it."

Marlene watched their dragon a moment longer before deciding to give in to the feeling that this was real, that she could come back, that Sirius would bring her back.

"Can we see if the dolphins are still there before we get dinner?" She smiled back at him.

Sirius let out a huge breath at her words and chuckled, "I'm sure they are, they were quite taken with you."

Their dragon huffed in annoyance and Marlene barely managed to not scream when he brought his head and front legs around towards her. In his claws was a bright shining scale and he pressed the scale towards her.

"She's not going to run off with a dolphin you great beast," Sirius rolled his eyes. "The dolphins wouldn't try and take her from you."

The dragon gave Sirius an annoyed glance as Marlene carefully took the scale from his claws.

"Is he giving me this?" Marlene ran her hand along its smooth surface, smiling at her reflection.

Sirius chuckled, "He's trying to buy your love."

Marlene laughed, "Oh sweet boy, you don't have to do that." She patted the dragon's nose and smiled when it managed to look bashful.

"See," Sirius looked smug and the dragon rolled its eyes again before nudging Marlene towards Sirius.

Sirius caught her as she tripped and it was now their turn to look slightly embarrassed.

"Let's see about those dolphins," Sirius cleared his throat, "and then, if you're still of a mind, I'll buy us some dinner."

Marlene nodded as her heart fluttered.

Neither the dragon nor the man whose arms were still loosely around her needed to buy her affections, she'd already given her heart to both of them.

True to his word, Sirius guided their boat back to the dolphins, and this time she not only felt them but saw them. In fact, she saw everything Sirius described as they moved through the trees as if it was overlaid on top of the world she'd just hours before believed to be the only one.

"I can see it, I can see it," she whispered again and again as Sirius pointed out the sights.

They slowly made it back to the park where it all had started before Sirius pulled her attention back to the original world.

"Are you still of a mind for dinner?"

Marlene felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight but she stepped closer to him and smiled. "I'd like nothing better, Dragon Hunter."

Sirius' eyes held hers and Marlene felt her breathing grow labored as he stared down at her.

"Would you like to know what I called you these past twenty years?"

Her breath was quickly leaving her but she silently nodded him on.

Sirius' smile was small and he spoke quietly as he moved closer to her.

"I've always referred to you as 'the girl I fell in love with'."

Marlene lost all ability to breathe as he closed the distance between them, but Sirius seemed intent on restoring oxygen to her lungs as he slowly brought his lips to hers.

Marlene had thought that riding their dragon made everything between these two worlds fall into place for her, but standing here, kissing the dragon hunter, showed her that she'd only scratched the surface. Her hands moved to cling to his leather jacket to hold her upright as the feeling of his hands gripping her waist seemed to be sending electric shocks through her nervous system. Her body was alive in ways she didn't know possible before all this and she wondered if the electricity coursing through her would consume her like a tree engulfed in a dragon's flame.

But before his kiss could completely devour her, the dragon hunter pulled back and smiled as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I've wanted to do that for ages," Sirius chuckled and Marlene couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

"I don't think it would have been wise when we were ten."

"Definitely not," Sirius smirked, "but now…" he kissed her again and Marlene sighed into him, snaking her arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

"Now is perfect, my Dragon Hunter," she murmured against him, smiling when he responded to her name for him with a bit more fervor in his kiss.

Marlene was quite content to stay wrapped in Sirius' arms in that old park for the rest of eternity. But they were pulled from their blissful oblivion by a soft shadow blocking the sunshine that had been above them.

She looked up confused, only to find their dragon hovering above them, smiling. The dragon roared once before flying in a rather intricate flip and heading back into the forest.

"Did he want to say goodbye?" Marlene looked back at Sirius who looked rather annoyed.

"No, the great oaf wanted to make sure I didn't do anything stupid and scare you off."

Marlene furrowed her brow, still confused

Sirius sighed, "You're part of his collection, he's invested in making sure you want to continue seeing him. So if I hurt you, he's likely to hurt me."

Marlene stared at Sirius for a moment before breaking down in a fit of laughter.

Her father's stern eye, when she was a teenager, had nothing over a dragon who showed up unexpectedly.

"I think you're safe," she pressed up on her toes to kiss him again, "assuming you're alright with a dragon invested in all this."

"I think I'll be alright," Sirius slanted his lips over hers with a grin, "I'm part of his collection too."

[grindeldoresongs]

When We Were Young

So continuing with the ‘oh this song reminds of Grindeldore! Let’s go and describe the music video going on in my head!’ theme:

Song: When We Were Young

(This one is very long- hnnnn-)

Lyrics: Dumbledore, Grindelwald, both

^it doesn’t make sense all the time but whatever.

Also anyone who actually reads though all of this: ich liebe dichhhhhh

And sorry if it gets a bit less music video like at some parts, and I’m sorry for that- I should just make a song fic.

Everybody loves the things you do

While alone, Gellert thinks of how highly people speak of Dumbledore. He’s middle aged in this scene, and has yet to go to prison. He remembers how his great aunt spoke of the boy next door (cliches ;))

From the way you talk

He remembers how he too admired Dumbledore. The way he spoke was captivating to Gellert while both young and middle aged.

To the way you move

A flashback occurs, and we’re taken to another empty field, where the two are sitting underneath an oak tree, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. There’s a swift movement, then Albus’ lips are on Gellert’s.

Everybody here is watching you

We’re taken back to reality just as Grindelwald is. He looks at a new article about Albus... This reminds him Albus exists even outside his memories, and that hurts him. He tries his best not to show it though.

'Cause you feel like home

We’re taken to the barn, where they’re sprawled across some hay, closer than ever. They look peaceful, and they drift to sleep.

You're like a dream come true

Now we transition to young Albus opening his beautiful blue eyes. He sees Gellert. This is his dream come true- for the time being.

But if by chance you're here alone

He recalls the first time they’d met. He’d been invited over for supper or at least some tea with Ms. Bagshot, and he was alone with Gel as the owner of the house went to grab something quickly.

Can I have a moment

Tea time is over and Gellert walks Albus to the door, because of his great aunt of course.

Before I go?

Before Albus leaves he stares into Gellert’s eyes, hoping he doesn’t mind. Albus is just...very intrigued. The scene though looks a little bit like Albus looking up after having stared at the ground for long to avoid looking the taller boy in the eye. Then he stares.

'Cause I've been by myself all night long

It’s a bit after their first encounter and Albus is laying alone in his room, staring at the ceiling and the Phoenix flying about, when he hears a knock on his door.

Hoping you're someone I used to know

He looks out and it’s Gellert. He has a book in hand- seems Albus had forgotten it at their place.

You look like a movie

We finally get to see who’s remembering all of this, and we see it’s middle aged Dumbledore. He’s staring at what used to be his house back at Godric’s Hollow. He sees the very spot Gel used to climb into their house from. He thinks their past must’ve been fiction...it was so...perfect. Straight out of a movie!

You sound like a song

We get taken to the memory Dumbledore has of Gellert raving about the Hallows. He remembered how captivated he was. Every word hooked him more. Now we see a middle aged Gellert, touching the Hallows pendant.

My God, this reminds me

Back to Albus, as he smiles sadly at the ground.

Of when we were young

They’re in the forest now, with some parchment, some books and a quill.

Let me photograph you in this light

Dumbledore thinks of how much more he would’ve cherished his time as a happy teenager if he knew what would become of him and the man he...well...loved.

In case it is the last time

His mind brings him (and us) back to the last time they were happy. Before the duel. Before Ariana’s death.

That we might be exactly like we were

We see the duel. Magic everywhere.

Before we realized

Slow motion almost, as spells after spells are casted.

We were sad of getting old

Spells are still flying...but it’s a good 30 or so years later. Aberforth is out of the picture- but not in the way Gellert wanted- at the beginning at least.

It made us restless

Spells.

It was just like a movie

As Dumbledore casts a hex, he remembers their pointless duels in the mid afternoon sun.

It was just like a song

Gellert remembers the books they would read out loud.

I was so scared to face my fears

Albus remembers the first time he heard of Grindelwald as the ‘dark lord.’ He’s mortified.

Nobody told me that you'd be here

We see the pain in Dumbledore when he realizes he’s the only one who can stop this madness he used to support; for the ‘greater good.’

And I swear you moved overseas

It’s the day after Albus buried his sister...he expected Gellert to come back...to apologize. To try and justify his actions...to make Albus believe again.

That's what you said, when you left me

But no. He was gone.

You still look like a movie

The middle aged teacher Dumbledore also remembers seeing the papers about Grindy again after a while. ‘Oh how he’d changed...’

You still sound like a song

Dumbledore is now among the crowd- listening to Grindelwald’s speech. His voice is still so...

My God, this reminds me

A pang of nostalgia hits him as he leaves the room- not able to take this.

Of when we were young

Grindelwald sees that someone has gone- actually he knows it’s Albus. He had been the only one among the crowd to gain eye contact with Gellert during the beginning of his speech.

He hesitates for a moment- maybe too. He’s thinking of when Albus would disap(p?)erate into thin air to somewhere in Godric’s Hollow. Then Gellert would have to try to find him.

He goes back- a bit disgruntled, to the speech. The words ‘greater good’ suddenly don’t feel so good in his mouth.

Let me photograph you in this light

Dumbledore has disaperated to Hogwarts. He’s trying to forget what he saw...trying to hold on to the perfect past.

In case it is the last time

He thinks about the past...yes...he dwells on it. It’s almost like a dream.

That we might be exactly like we were

He wants to see it again. He wants to be there. He wants to be the 18 year old Hogwarts graduate in the summer of 1899. He goes to the pensive.

Before we realized

He dumps memories and memories into the peculiar thing. We go through flashes of all of them. We see how much they’d changed over the years. From the shy neighbours, to the friends, to the lovers, to the strangers...to the greatest rivals.

We were sad of getting old

As the years go by in the pensive; the older Dumbledore gets, the worse his life seems to be.

It made us restless

His eyes are pained. He wants to make it better. He knows he needs to face Grindelwald...but for now....he can’t. He won’t.

It was just like a movie

Middle aged Dumbledore closes his eyes, and we’re taken away to the green field again. In the background of the field, we see the abandoned barn, but everything is focused on the two boys, now standing. The shorter of the two is laughing, pointing his wand at the other, who is smirking- but he looks just as amused.

It was just like a song

The incantations coming out of their mouths flow as naturally as an ‘I love you,’ maybe...

When we were young x4

More sweet and unrealistic memories flash by us.

It's hard to admit that

We stop the flashes at the scene where Albus is holding hands with Gellert in the field, but then one last flash...Albus is alone, in the rain. He’s in the same place though, in the exact same position. Nothing seemed to have changed for Albus- but the world had moved on. This is symbolic in a way.

Everything just takes me back

Now it’s still raining, and we see a pair of feet walking on cobblestone. Then we flash to a time where it was sunny; summer no doubt. The same feet are shown, but now they’re accompanied by another pair. The two seem to be walking in step.

To when you were there

We zoom in on how their hands brush against each other.

To when you were there

Slowly...the first pair of feet we saw disappear. Now the weather seems to be darker as well. The streets change...but the feet are the same.

And a part of me keeps holding on

Now we can see what’s in the man’s hands. It’s a book... then wrapped around his other hand is a necklace. One with the infamous Deathy Hallows pendant on it.

Just in case it hasn't gone

We now fill on see Grindelwald, he is walking through Paris, rather aimlessly- but he walks by a shoppe window and looks to see his reflection maybe...and then the strangest thing happens. He sees...Dumbledore? He blinks- he’s gone.

I guess I still care

He realizes he hasn’t moved on yet.

Do you still care?

The stupid thought runs around through his mind, and we’re taken back to Dumbledore- who definitely still cares.

It was just like a movie

Now from Dumbledore’s window we’re taken over mountains and through time essentially to the two star gazing.

It was just like a song

Gellert ranting about the constellations as Albus falls asleep on his shoulder.

My God, this reminds me

We now only see the stars, then the camera (our perspective rather) is downwards again, only the boys aren’t there. No. It’s Gellert; under the quiet Parisian streets.

Of when we were young

You can see the nostalgia in his lighter eye and pain in the other.

When we were young x4

He starts walking back to his headquarters. He’s trying to think of why this is for the greater good and why thinking about the past this often is bad! Grindy is breaking down just a bit, consumed with emotions he’d locked away years ago.

Let me photograph you in this light

He stops, the memories and feels ambushing him seemed to have finally driven him over the edge. He’s in the middle of the road, but he doesn’t care. He’s looking up at the moon, remembering.

In case it is the last time

The night right before he left for Germany...when Albus had thought he’d already gone. Gellert, looked through the window he’d entered through all those years ago, and sighed. He would never be able to come back...from what he could tell. He touched the bricks once more, then disaperated.

That we might be exactly like we were

We see young Grindelwald in Germany, he seems to have it all under control, but every little flower and every blade of grass(!!!) reminds him of how he spent his summer.

Before we realized

Gellert stops himself- this time in the past.

We were sad of getting old

That last scene was the parallel of the one where Albus was alone in the rain, holding his hand up. Gellert slowly puts his up too...as if maybe someone would reach out and grab it. In our perspective, the frames are side by side, so it seems like they’re touching, even if they aren’t. Gellert is the first to pull his hand away. He then walks in the other direction, leaving Albus behind. Then with every step he takes, he gets older. Older...

It made us restless

Older..now Dumbledore is finally walking away...slowly. He too is aging with every step.

Oh, I'm so mad I'm getting old

We follow Dumbledore out of Godric’s Hollow into Hogwarts. His pants get replaced by robes...he’s old now. Very old.

It makes me reckless

He is looking into the mirror of Erised now...tormented by what he still sees.

It was just like a movie

He sees the fields again. Them running- or rather Albus running away from Gellert, only to be tackled

It was just like a song

He remembers their laughter, and we see it. We can only imagine how happy and pure the laughter sounds like...

When we were young

We’re taken back to Dumbledore’s perspective as an old man. We zoom in on the blue of his eyes. As the word ‘young’ comes about, we see the picture of young Gel and Al in old Dumbledore’s eyes fade away. Dumbledore closes his eyes and everything goes black.

Then a quote appears: “

//////

So this ist the second one and uh if anyone wants to do this- that would be near impossible, then yay please doooo, and tag me or something? So I can see it lmao, I need this and so many more. Sorry though if this is trash to you- I made almost all of this on the spot this time (oops). To be fair I didn’t think the song would be this long. (Also; don’t mind my mistakes with tenses.) But yea so I had the chorus in mind and whatever but then the rest was like Ooft.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Special thanks to my feedback leavers and my betas!

Love you @emulateharry and @nocontrolforlouis

Chapter 9-Sightseeing

I wandered down those paths most nights in those days. I’d think about what ifs all the time and I was painfully aware of my feelings. 

The way he looked at me sometimes....

 In the beginning they were filled with me climbing onto my self-created rack and stretching my feelings long and taut. I felt ridiculous.

My stomach fluttered whenever I saw him, and those days when we were reunited after stretches away from each other were particularly bad. I was, to quote the great Britney, not a girl, but not yet a woman, but my pubescent response to him was stupidly overwhelming. I was not a fan girl. I spent a tremendous amount of time with a bunch of dudes who had fan girls. They were treated like something apart, something more than human.

In my real experience, they were more human than human, they sweat and farted and bled freely and often. It pissed me off that Harry was able to reduce me to the fluttering mess he was. My only hope was that he was unaware. I could not imagine he knew what he did to me, or his flirty little touches and open self disclosures would be the cruelest lead.

If so, he was a mean master and I was pulled along on his leash.

I told myself, in those long early days, that he didn't mean any harm. From what I came to know of him, what I still believe I know of him, is that the last thing that Harry wishes to give to others is harm.

Even when he was a randy man child coming to grips with the spotlight and all of its privileges and pitfalls, I don't think he ever intended to hurt anyone. Least of all me. He liked me always, as a person and as a friend at least. I'm not exactly sure looking back when it happened. When it became more for me, when it became more. I knew better than to like a guy who was my friend.

It didn't work out. But, by the time we had rejoined the tour and I'd been welcomed back into Harry's arms and bed, I had feelings for him. Those bastards kept cropping up, like weeds in a well-tended garden. I took the time and spent hours tending to it, every night I would talk myself down. Phrases like:he could have anyone, you are lucky he cares for you like a friend, he always takes you in, don't ruin it, he's so much fun, don't miss out on that because of stupid tummy swirls, you know how this ends, don't do this again- those were my lullabies.

Every morning I'd wake up with him tangled around me. Spider arms wrapped around my neck, or shoulders or torso, and I'd be a willing fly in the web. We'd laze about, and have talks in the half-light or bright sunshine, depending on our jet lag and then we’d eat together. We were sharing at least two meals together most days, no one seemed to notice, but all that broken bread meant we couldn't help but be making something together.

He flirted too, and he was a horrible flirt, truly. Harry's hands found my body in almost every interaction that we had. Unknowingly while he slept, unconsciously while we played video games or ate, and purposefully when he hugged me hello or goodbye, dropping candied kisses on my cheeks as well. My feelings were confused, or I liked to pretend they were, and I didn't have the huztpah to ask him about his own. I feared his rejection more than the pain I was putting myself through. I would have missed him terribly had he pushed me into the hallway after I revealed myself. I may have been in his bed then physically, but emotionally I was standing in a long chamber between countless doors waiting for him to open one.

There had been times when he slipped, Freud level oppsies that kept me on his hook. I was his own big mouthed bass, gape open and waiting. Casual I love you's were shared-"I love the way you laugh, kick my ass, make fun of Niall, talk, smell."

I wanted him to love the way I tasted.

The near miss kisses we shared may have been a teasing taste had we ever collided. Those I thought of too, lying in white fluff, smelling the tang of his sweat and gradual pleasant sour of his breath. The scenarios I came up with started to ramp up after our wish fulfilling movie night. Before watching Wesley and Co. defeat evil princes, I had daydreamed about kissing Harry.

Sitting on my bed far far away, I had thought about what he would move like. Would I taste him or just the spearmint of the gum he chewed constantly? Would the mint cool my mouth giving me a bracing inhale that one time we went to the snow in New Zealand, freezing throat of like menthol with the fiery other being our lips meeting. Would the kiss be a peck followed by an awkward sputter as it flared out? Or, would mutual attraction be enough oxygen to cause a flare?  Would the tinder be rich enough that we lit up and were consumed? Would it lead to more, be an amuse bouche, a taste of things to come?

After he sat his bony hindquarters on me and leaned in so close, the daydreams changed. I was no longer some corseted heroine being taken by his Fabio-esque rakishness. All those fantasies I built from books still in my head were replaced by little realities. His nose glanced off of mine during our Eskimo kiss, so I could fill that in to my imagined scenario. His breath was minty, but the onion from his burger had a sharper bite when I tasted his breath. His hands did span the back of my neck doubly, one could wrap around my throat with ease. Up close the green of his eyes were translucent and the blue ring at the edge was pushed out when his pupils dilated. His lips tipped up enough around the edges so that they touched my own when he leaned in, long before the interiors were in danger of connecting. And when he spoke at that proximity they moved against my own like silk sliding over my hips, a snag or two on the dried pieces of skin Lou hadn't exfoliated off yet.

The new sensations to go along with my wishful thinking fueled my late night yearnings. It only got worse after that.

I tried not to think about him, not to give myself to him when I had no assurance that he wanted it. I'd go out and try to distract myself. But I had built habits around being hisbiis eyes in the cities he moved through without seeing.

I'd pass a bit of street art, graffiti, dude with a funny sign, ocean view, mountain vista, piece of kitsch, slice of Americana, and I'd snap it. Send it. I'm surprised my phone did not automatically forward pictures to him. All those algorithms failed me there.

Even now, when I'm in a new place, or see a new wonder, I capture it for him before I do for myself. Last week, before I headed out from Singapore for a week long work trip, my friends dragged me out to celebrate my new gig with a night out. After shots and dancing and karaoke, and more shots, I was in the Chomp Chomp Centre watching the late night hawkers, and all I could think of was how watching the life in this place would light up his face. The wonder he would have, his chin would tilt up and he'd stop breathing for just a moment, and then his eyes would cloud, gloss, and he'd close them to get ahold of his emotions.

Maybe now he had grown comfortable with how weepy he could be. I was always impressed with his deep feeling, how things cut to his bone so swiftly. The armor I wore blanketed me from my emotions and my natural inclination to introspection meant my feelings were only known to me, and then I'd dissect them out of existence. I did not possess his glass face, but I coveted it. I also loved to provoke the deep feelings when I hit upon something that moved him.  I knew this place, it's pace, would do just that. I could imagine him going from stall to stall, looking for the longest lines like a local. He'd want to share.

"Try it." His low tone would bring me in, his personal space my own as I tried to hear him over the din of drunken company men and metal spoons scraping woks.

In the beginning, I'd shyly open and receive his offering, a child at first communion. Near our end, I was more the naughty school girl hoping to seduce the new young priest. I'd suck his fingertips and look at him through my lashes. The dilation of his pupils and other measures of his mania for me I'd have studied like an acolyte. By the end I was more than ready for ordination.

I wondered what he'd put on his chicken rice, if his British sense of taste would be satisfied by the fragrance of the grain steeped in stock, or if he'd grown as much as me in his travels and would heap on the chili sauce. If he couldn't come with me, I wondered if the kisses we shared when I made it back to him would be spicy, and his lips would burn with mine from dual appetites.

I snapped pictures, for him, and long dead habits seemed to be surfacing. The three years since I'd last seen him erasing my consideration of him in my day to day life. I made a conscious effort to stop, I had taught myself to seek my own interests and pleasures. It was when I couldn't walk out without the banana sweet I realized I hoped to see him in Shanghai.

I don't even like banana.

The yearning for him is what I remember most. It was my constant companion. It’s shadow was long and dwarfed me when I slept in his arms but didn't have a room in his heart. It cast itself like it was noon when I was sure of my place, only to grow long in absence. When we were apart, the want of him was huge. It overshadowed me. I can't say it was the same for him. Our final separation saw my shade become greater than myself. It was so large, there was nothing left of me for longer than I care to admit.

I'm not sure I ever made such an impression on him. I suspect I was more like an amenity.

I am being unkind, especially to myself. He would be disappointed. I wish I did not care.

I'm still watching the back of his head as he makes his way away from me to the elevator, to the next place. He's surrounded by people, I can hear his voice and I know the tone. He is teasing the man with short hair beside him. I can't make out the words, but the guy’s tone is low and full of affection, he wraps his arm around a woman among them and I wonder if the affection is towards her or Harry. Probably Harry, he provoked that response in strangers, let alone people he liked enough to tease.

His fingers extend to press the call button and I am distracted by his long fingers. I've watched the skinny digits pluck away at a guitar and my nipples and my body twinges at the memory. My attention strays from his nail beds, still chipped with polish. I smile involuntarily that he still likes them painted until my eye drifts to the cluster of silver near the top of his palm. My breath catches.  He couldn't possibly still wear that ring. When his hand pulls back, the light catches the metal circle and I can almost read it. I know what it says. It was my wish for him while he was surrounded by chaos. It was what I hoped I gave him a measure of in the rooms we shared, a moments peace.

His head rises up, and the mirror next to the elevator doors catches his attention. My focus shifts to where he is looking.

He is looking at me.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 22)

Instead of upwards to the heavens like the rest of the R&D building, Freya and her intern’s laboratories went downwards, into the foundations, and indeed, the mountains that Mistral was built on. The view from the clear sides of the elevators was like peering into a vast, complex, and gigantic ant farm, human and Faunus all busy working on various projects, all arranged in a neat grid.

They were all sectioned off or opened up by sliding wall panels, made of modern materials and proofed against pretty much any sort of accident or disaster short of a highly coordinated, intentional attempt at destroying them, or a catastrophe that would likely take the rest of the academy with it. But, true to Mistral’s love for aesthetics and tradition, they still looked like paper fusuma, even if it tended to clash with the increasingly modern and sleek equipment they were importing from all over Remnant or constructing and developing on-site.

Weiss had been down here exactly twice before, both visits years apart, but she could never truly get rid off the feeling of awe, of dread, of nervousness washing over her as she stepped out of the elevator and to the laboratory at the very bottom of the lift.

She supposed Freya’s personal robot secretary/security turret never really helped matters.

“Good morning. Weiss. Sucy. Winter.” Al said in his mechanical and monotone voice, his dozens of optic sensors glimmering slightly. “I hope you had an—enjoyable—trip down here?”

“What, not going to point your guns at me again?” Sucy asked calmly as they made their way out of the elevator.

“Again. Sucy. That was just an—honest—mistake. I sincerely apologize.” Al said, a few of his many robotic arms unfolding, the claws pressing together and his spherical body nudging forward as if he was bowing.

“Should I ask…?” Winter said as they stopped before the blast doors at the end of the hallway.

“Two days ago, one of my potion vials happened to leak before I got here,” Sucy replied as they were scanned. “Al detected the fumes, then threatened to turn me into Mantle cheese with the help of miniguns.”

“Again. I sincerely apologize.” Al said, repeating the gesture from earlier. “It is just that Dr. Freya prefers her security—extremely—thorough and cautious.”

“More like ‘paranoid and trigger-happy,’” Sucy muttered as the doors opened with a groan, a fog of cold, misty air poured out the crack as they slid apart.

“Well forgive me for wanting to ensure the safety of the oftentimes sensitive and valuable research and equipment I have down here!” Freya snapped as she stepped out, waving the clouds out of her face. “Also, you do realize that there’s a live video and audio feed of everything that happens in this hallway, yes?”

“Yes, yes I do.” Sucy replied flatly.

There was a brief moment of silence as Freya and Sucy looked at each other, before the former turned around and beckoned for them to follow. “Come in, time’s a-wasting!”

Like her office above ground, Freya’s laboratory was stuffed floor to ceiling with all manner of projects, equipment, supplies, screens, indicators, and wall partitions keeping it organized, if claustrophobic. The various experiments she had going on varied, but they all had one thing in common:

Dust.

In power cores, flowing through tubes as powder, crystals being fused together in new configurations or broken apart, catalysts for experiments and reactions on materials, or reagents themselves, it was like the whole facility was actually a miniature refinement and processing plant than a single scientist’s personal sanctum, the bright overhead lights and the natural radiance of dust casting almost everything in vivid colours.

Weiss, Sucy, and Winter passed through a green haze, steadily spinning orange bars, and a humming crystal in a tube that seemed to be sucking the light out of the immediate surroundings, before they finally came to one of the most important sections of her lab:

The Operating Room.

It really was just a reclining chair with an Atlesian “Auto-Doc” surgery apparatus above it, but Freya, Nick, or any of the other subjects strapped to it cared much about the name. Weiss gulped as Freya manned the console and the chair started to contract and readjust for a much less massive occupant, Winter squeezed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring look, Sucy grinned as she saw the Auto-Doc booting up, a few of its many arms unfolding and getting its hydraulics flowing again.

“On the chair, please, Weiss,” Freya said. “This won’t take more than a minute, I swear,” she continued, smiling.

Weiss tried to smile back, found she couldn’t, and just sighed as she put her feet onto the metal step, and hauled herself into the seat. She laid one arm on the metal armrest, straps appeared out of hidden crevices, robotic arms pulling them over to the buckles on the other side.

Click. Whirr…

The straps tightened, one of them acting as a tourniquet, the rest holding her in place. Weiss whimpered as she watched a robot arm with a sprayer attachment, and a second with a syringe had a freshly unsealed needle affixed to it. A third arm descended from the main body and reached out to Weiss’ free hand, its claw holding a stress toy in the shape of a smiling snowman.

Squeaky-squeaky!

The snowman’s eyes bugged out of its head with each squeeze. Weiss took it from the claw, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth.

Fsshht!

She felt hospital-grade disinfectant on her skin, ice-cold, heard the arm with the syringe move into place and wait for a few moments, before it began to move in.

Squeaaaaaakkkk-kkkyyyy…!

The snowman’s eyes slowly shrank back into its head as Weiss released her grip, a cotton swab was placed over the tiny exit wound.

“And now, we play the waiting game...” Freya said as the syringe had its needle removed, the blood sample was handed off into a machine.

Sucy and Freya stood before a nearby screen, their scrolls in their hands as results came in; the two sisters sat on a nearby bench, Weiss resting her head on Winter’s shoulder and getting her hair stroked as they waited.

“Well, that’s really interesting...” Sucy muttered.

“What is?” Weiss asked as she sat up.

“Seems like our semblances work even better than I thought they would,” Sucy replied, still looking at the screens and her own notes. “Maybe a little too well.”

“Gee, ya think?!” Weiss snapped.

Winter gently held Weiss back. “Can you please explain that?” she asked.

“The Infinite Energy is still in Weiss’ bloodstream,” Freya replied. “It seems that even the minute infusion of raw dust in it was enough to be activated by her semblance, thus vastly amplifying its effects and longevity.

“In short, it seems we seriously overdosed.”

“Would you happen to have an antidote for the Infinite Energy drink?” Winter replied. “Surely, someone like you would have something as a fail-safe for that?”

“I don’t,” Sucy replied flatly. “Surprising as it may seem, even my brilliance has its limits, and I haven’t somehow unlocked all of the mysteries of caffeine and how it affects the human brain. Your genes don’t help, either:

“It seems like whatever it is the doctors fixed about your DNA thanks to all your grandparent’s mutated chromosomes, it left behind or possibly even severely amplified the stimulant-sensitivity on your Faunus side...”

“So what am I supposed to do now?” Weiss asked.

“Just ride it out, I guess,” Sucy replied. She looked back, and grinned. “Well… unless you want me to start experimenting with your liver, and how quickly it breaks down certain chemicals...”

Freya’s ears and tails twitched as she glared at Sucy. “Manbavaran, as the top authority of this facility, and the one giving consent in Weiss’ stead for the moment: there is no way in hell you are performing any such procedure on her, and especially not in this facility,” she said flatly.

Winter protectively clutched Weiss to her chest as the two of the nodded in agreement, their expressions saying much the same.

“Oh, and like you haven’t done worse things to your own husband?”

“That’s because I’m of the unshakable belief that absolutely nothing in Remnant can kill Nick,” Freya replied coolly. “He has suffered FAR worse than my rooting around in his internal organs and skeletal system, making modifications and repairs with the help of an autodoc or my own two hands, in the lab or out in the field.

“However, like myself, Weiss is FAR less durable.”

Sucy was about to counter, before one of Al’s many extensions in the walls and the ceilings activated, a glowing blue spherical optic sensor extending out on a metal arm. “Dr. Freya. You have a visitor at the—ground-level entrance—requesting access--” he began.

“And who is it?!” Freya snapped. “They better be important, and have an appointment on my record that I’ve somehow forgotten about!”

“According to their—student ID—scan: it is ‘Rose. Ruby.’ Cross-referencing the database reveals that she is—Weiss’--teammate. That is why I did not reject her outright. Should I let her in? Or simply proceed as normal?”

Freya turned to Weiss. “Your call, vnuchka,” she said.

“One moment,” Weiss said, before she turned to Al’s extension. “Did she say why she was here?”

“I did inquire. Her reply was that she wanted to—check up on you and see if you were okay. Should I start compiling a report of your—medical examination—and send it to her?” Al paused. “I am assuming from your—sudden and dramatic—change in facial expression and body language that this would be the—incorrect—course of action.”

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Sucy asked.

“Not yet!” Weiss cried. “But I will! In time! When I’m ready!”

“Weiss. Your decision...?” Al asked.

Weiss looked back at Sucy and Freya. “Is there anything in particular I might need to know?”

“Nothing I didn’t already warn you about yesterday,” Sucy replied as she returned to her scroll. “Might want to make doubly sure about having someone to carry you back, just in case, though.”

“Then I’ll meet her at the lobby,” Weiss said as she got up, Winter following her.

“I will inform—Ms. Rose—that you will be coming back up shortly.”

“Thanks, Al,” Weiss said as they made their way out of the laboratory.

“Take it easy for the rest of today, Weiss!” Freya called out.

“I will, grandma!” Weiss replied, before she and Winter stepped out of the blast doors.

The two giant metal slabs slid back into place, its locking mechanisms groaning and whirring as it reactivated.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Winter asked as they headed back to the elevator.

“Can you… please pretend that it’s not nearly as bad as it is?” Weiss asked. “I don’t want Ruby to freak out. And especially not find out about… you know.”

“I’ll put my theater electives to good use,” Winter said, beaming with pride.

“Thanks, Winter,” Weiss said, a small smile on her face. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t even think about it, little sister,” Winter said, ruffling Weiss’ hair before she called for an elevator.

“Weiss!” Ruby cried, brightening up as she saw her and Winter step out of the elevator and back into the lobby. She frowned. “Oh… wow… you look terrible.”

“Sleep deprivation tends to do that to a person, yeah,” Weiss said jokingly.

“You want to head back to our dorm, and try and see if you can catch some more Z’s?” Ruby asked. “Maybe stop by the dining hall and grab some moon bloom tea to go? Because you look the aftermath of finals week, and it’s only just the start of school, so I’m really worried.”

“She’ll be fine, Ruby, we just need to wait for the Infinite Energy’s effects to wear off completely,” Winter said, smiling. “I’m really, very sorry for ruining your team’s plans, but I believe Weiss is in absolutely no shape to do any sort of studying or tutoring right now. Can we please just get the whole day off together? Sucy and Grandma mentioned that she might just suddenly crash again like last night, so someone needs to be with her all day.”

“I promise, come the weekend, I’ll be back to normal, and will be doing most of the legwork for the assignments we’ll inevitably have,” Weiss added, forcing a smile.

“Oh, sure, that won’t be a problem at all!” Ruby replied. “I’ll go tell Akko and Diana, and I’m sure they won’t have a problem either; you managed to finish most of the homework and reading assignments we had, anyway!”

“I did...?” Weiss asked.

“Yep!” Ruby said. “Your notes got kinda screwy and weird by the end, but you’ve got outlines or complete first drafts for all our papers, and Diana and Akko say they can totally fix the bad parts, AND start figuring out how to help Akko study better now!

“We’ve… basically got pretty much all of today free, all thanks to you!”

Weiss blinked. “… Huh.”

“Well!” Winter said, beaming. “Isn’t that incredibly fortunate?” Her scroll suddenly beeped, she opened it up, and frowned. “… And it seems I just successfully tempted Fate just now.”

Weiss tensed up. “What happened?”

Winter sighed. “It looks like Qrow’s attempt to recruit a ‘grade-A spelunker’ he knew for our next expedition to the Hills went horribly awry…”

“Did he only give an address?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, yes he did, and don’t worry, Ruby, I already know exactly what that means...” Winter said as she dejectedly cleared her entire day planner.

“What does it mean?” Weiss asked nervously.

Winter put her hands on Weiss shoulders, and brought her face level to hers. “It means I’m sorry, Weiss, it looks like I won’t be able to spend the day with you after all; duty calls in the form of a drunk in distress...” she kissed her on the forehead. “Come on, I’ll see you back to your dorm...”

Weiss sighed as Winter got up and put a hand to her back.

Ruby noticed, and frowned. “Actually… you want to spend the rest of the day with me, Weiss? I usually don’t get to my schoolwork till the afternoon because all my errands back home were always in the morning, and I actually have some stuff Diana and Yang wanted me to do down in the city.

“You know, shopping for supplies for Akko, meeting up with some friends of Yang’s, stuff like that.”

“Are you sure you want me coming with you?” Weiss asked. “I might just pass out in the middle of the street.”

“Eh, I’ve got a cart with a bicycle, anyway, and getting out of school for a while might be good for you; worst case scenario, I’ll just throw in an umbrella and a sleeping bag, and get you back home along with the rest of the stuff!” Ruby said.

“And you won’t be overloaded when you’re done?” Weiss asked.

“I’ll just do the supply runs last, and like I said: sniper-scythe muscles!” Ruby replied, pulling her skirt up and showing off the parts of her leg uncovered by the short shorts underneath.

Weiss looked, her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose.

“Sounds like a solid plan to me!” Winter said, unaware of Weiss’ reaction. “Seems like it might be a good time for you and your new teammate to do some bonding yourselves.”

“What’d you say, Weiss? Interested?” Ruby asked. “I’ll understand if you want to just stay back at our dorm and just try to get back to sleep ASAP...”

Weiss shook her head. “No, you know what? A change of scenery might be good, let’s do it; it’d be nice to talk something other than economic concepts and graphs with you, anyway.”

“Yay!” Ruby said, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Then it’s settled: you two have fun out there, and hope I’ll be back here with Qrow in time for dinner,” Winter said as she made for the exit.

Weiss laughed. “We will, Winter!” she called out, before she turned to Ruby. “So, what’s first up on the list?”

“I was planning on hitting the bathhouse first!” Ruby said. “I don’t want to be all stinky and awful to all the crowds there, and well, you can REALLY use a bath and a change of clothes… I’m pretty sure that’s the same uniform you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning and slept in last night...”

Weiss looked down at herself, and blinked. “Oh, dust, you’re right!” she groaned. “I knew I was forgetting something…!”

“Don’t worry, Weiss, it happens to all of us—especially my Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said as they began to leave. “You know, this one time, while he was staying over at our house, he was so hungover and sleepy he missed his pants and put on one of Yang’s skirts instead—and it was one of those black and red plaid skirts, really short with metal studs on the belt.”

“Oh my gosh, how did you find out?” Weiss asked as they passed by the benches at the lobby.

“We were all at the breakfast table when he walked in wearing it. Dad tried to tell him, but we all couldn’t stop laughing—I mean, even our dog Zwei looked like he couldn’t breath.”

Weiss smiled “Then what happened next?”

Ruby stopped by an empty chair. “Then, he figured it out, so he put his leg on our kitchen table like this”--she put one leg up in a seductive manner--”and he went, ‘So, how do I look…?’” she said in a poor imitation of a gravel-voiced man trying to be sexy.

Weiss covered her mouth, her cheeks turning red.

Ruby put her foot off the chair. “He totally did, I swear! It gets even better: turns out, that was the SECOND time he ever wore a skirt without realizing it.”

“What was the first time?” Weiss asked.

“Back when he and dad were studying at Beacon,” Ruby replied. “Turns out, Qrow’d never worn a uniform before, and they told him it was a kilt...”

Weiss shook her head, smiling. “Oh, that’s just mean.”

“He got the last laugh, though!” Ruby said as she opened the door for Weiss. “He said all the girls couldn’t stop talking about how great his legs were,” she said, grinning.

Weiss snorted and shook her head. “… Thanks Ruby, I needed that,” she said as she they began to descend the stairs.

“You’re welcome!” Ruby chirped. “Since you didn’t get much sleep last night, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

As the two of them headed back to their dorm to get a fresh change of clothes for Weiss, she started to think to herself, maybe that terrible, sleepless night was just the prelude to a good, if groggy morning together with Ruby, running errands with her in Mistral.

And with that, Fate was tempted once more.

Note: Assume that Winter talked about Qrow while Weiss was in the hospital, and showed a picture of him, at least. She did not show the several others of him she’s saving for blackmail, and times when she’s sad and needs a laugh at his expense.Believe me, those two skirt incidents mentioned are only the ones Ruby is aware of.

[chase-brody-protection-squad]

It's all your fault (part 1)

(ayyee its me shy nervous anon ; D this is my first fanfic that has an IRL human and even tho my first language is English I suck at it. Also its v long I can’t do short ones. Grab some popcorn :-* ) 

“And I will see all you duudes in the next video” Seán yelled in a high pitched voice into his microphone that sat in front of him, a wave of nausea waved over him, that has been happening frequently over the past few days. Seán had no explanation for this, it wasn’t like the sick feeling lasted long only after he was done recording or at random times during the day. Each time it happened it felt like something inside of him died and some other thing filled the dead air. That mildly concerned Sean, could just be stress getting to him.  In the spinning moment the sickness cleared, Seán stood up from his comfy chair and left his recording room to go decompress after many hours of recording video games, his stomach growled angrily for food it was around lunchtime to him. The smell of sweet stir fry filled his nostrils, turning the corner he spotted his girlfriend Signe carefully mixing the sizzling ingredients around in the pan

“Smells good” Seán approached Signe and placed a hand on her shoulder, she softly leaned on his hand  

“I thought you might be hungry” she turned to face him “ That was a long one I was starting to get worried”

Seán smiled and gave a soft chuckle “I was playing a game that was longer than I thought and I took a break between each recording”

Signe gave Seán a soft hug then nuzzled into his chest

“Missed you”

Seán hugged her back and rested his head on hers

“Missed you more”

“Missed you most”

—–

After dinner the pair settled down on their couch to watch a new episode of Rick and Morty. Even though they had just finished dinner they decided to pop some nice buttery popcorn as a good numb mind treat.  

Half way into the episode a warm sensation slithered down Seán’s lip, reaching up he felt a moist liquid on his fingers quickly pulling his hand back he could see bright red blood decorating his pasty white fingers at this time Singe just happen to look away from the tv and at Seán.

“Oh my goodness are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah “ Seán quickly used his palm to clean the remaining liquid then he took a quick inhale to clean his sinuses, a faint metallic tang slithered down his throat.

“The air must be really dry or something”

Signe looked at him with a slight look of concern, this was the fifth nosebleed in the past two days and Seán never really got nose bleeds.

“The show is almost over, you should go take a shower you smell like a teenage gamer” Signe joked tapping her boyfriend’s shoulder softly with her own. Seán lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit then let out a loud exclamation of disgust Signe rolled her eyes and let out a puffy chuckle

“Yeah I guess you’re right” He peeled himself off the comfy couch and stretched his spindly spider like legs bringing feeling back into them. Although he was use to sitting about while playing games but he still needed to stretch. Lazily he walked over to the bathroom and started his shower, to keep the dark green color of his hair he started his showers out with a cold stray. The green stained water gave the shower a dirty bog look , the cool water felt good on his scalp and woke him up a bit, when the last of the soap bubbles disappeared Seán warmed up the shower erasing the chill that clung on to his body, the bathroom slowly started to fill up with steam. For a long time Seán stood in the shower thinking about the sudden sickness that has been plaguing him as of late, it all started the week that he hug out with his friend Mark’s house and even he was acting a bit…..stranger than normal. At that time he thought nothing of it as Mark was already weird. If the sickness got any worse he would call him to see if the same thing has been affecting him. For now he could handle whatever was happening to him.

The room was filled with a thick curtain of steam when he decided to finally exit the shower, jokingly Seán drew a cartoony dick on the dewy glass, while he was drawing he noticed a dark shadow hung over his eyes. The lights of the bathroom were quite bright so there was really no reason for a shadow to be on his face, picking a place away from his drawing he cleared the condensation from a place where his eyes would be, his face was odd the whites of his eyes were a dark blackish blue color that swirled around like a vortex and his iris was a bright almost glowing green color. It took a moment for his brain to process what he was looking at. It looked like a specter that wasn’t really there, it moved independently from him and his reflection’s eyes were full of laughter from what he could tell the specters mouth was full of jagged teeth that looked like broken glass stained with blood

“ I͢ ̷̨͝a̢m̀ c̶o̡mį͟n̕͠g̶ “The specter slowly scrawled onto the mirror

Seán let out a sharp gasp “What the fuck!” He jumped back from the mirror causing the male to bump loudly into the shower

“You okay in there?” a knock came from the door pulling his attention away from the mirror to the towel decorated door.

“Y-Yeah, I just slipped a bit”

“Oh okay” Singe let out a relieved sigh “ I’m going down to the shop do you want anything?”

Seán looked at the mirror the reflection had disappeared  “Uh some mountain dew” he calmed down by giving his drying hair a strong shake sending water droplets to fly onto the mirror.

While Signe was at the shop buying food and stuff Seán laid on the couch scrolling through his phone answering questions from fans on all media platforms. This made him feel a bit better, it took his attention away from the strange things that have been distracting him as of late.

During a moment of silence Seán’s T.V flicked to life making the male jump strongly at the sudden noise, he quickly reacted by reaching for the remote and shut it off static green T.V . His heartbeat strongly in his chest like a hundred caged birds. To calm himself down he sat up from the couch and looked around, there could only be a handful of  explanations  as to why the T.V could come to life. It could have been Signe messing with him but he doesn’t remember hearing her enter the house and there was only one remote that worked on the T.V

“Honey? You home?” Seán called out to the silence of the house, there was no response, the green haired male squinted his baby blue eyes in suspicion unsure of his surroundings.

“Signe?” he called out again just in case she didn’t hear him at first again there was no response. Seán hummed to himself dismissing the silence, he tested the T.V to see if it would be filled with that strange green static instead of what he expected it turned onto a generic news channel a shiver ran down his spine. He decided that maybe the living room wasn’t the place he wanted to be right now, quickly he stood up and walked more like sprinted into his room then pulled out his phone to text Mark at this time is should be the middle of the afternoon for him, even though it was it still took Mark a little bit to respond.

Seán started the conversation casually then eased into what he has been experiencing. This led to Mark to call Seán for more details. Mark sounded a bit off himself often repeating points or mumbling to the point in which Seán could barely understand him.

“You doing okay Mark, you sound weird” Seán commented after a long mumble spell, Mark cleared his throat and coughed

“Ummm Yeah, I’m fine just distracted by something, Seán remember what I told you….good luck”

“I didn’t catch any…” The phone clicked indicating that Mark had hung up, he let out a disgruntled groan and attempted to call him back but to no avail each time he was met with Mark’s voice mail

“Fuck” Seán angrily threw his phone onto his bed then ran his shaking fingers threw his moss colored hair

“Fuuuck” he collapsed on his bed with his head in his hands.

(*puts this in the submission box then runs v far away in nervous fear*)

This is very good!! Omg I love it! :D

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[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 1

summary: It wasn't an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister's college graduation. That's it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 4.5k

chapters: 1/?

[read on ao3]

I took my love, I took it down I climbed a mountain and I turned around

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He will later regret saying anything. And he will want to blame Archie, desperately. Will want to throw him out of his moving car—if the car was capable of moving at all.

But really, he will blame himself. He was the one who wanted to stop. He was the one who listened to Archie in the first place.

.

.

.

It starts innocuously enough; he and Archie are in his living room, frantically pressing away at their video game controllers, his large floor fan blowing cool air straight onto their flushed faces. It’s still May, but the heat came early to Boston this year, and with a vengeance.

However, Jughead is too broke to touch his A/C—or, too uncomfortable with the fact that he is no longer too broke to justify the frugality that makes his life more difficult than it has to be—so he convinces himself the fan is satisfactory.

(He will also later blame the fan. And the heat. It made him delirious. Susceptible to terrible ideas.)

Archie cries out as Jughead’s character delivers a last, fateful blow. The screen turns to victory credits and the redhead throws down his controller. “Damn,” he mutters, as Jughead flashes him a smug grin and cracks his neck.

“I win. You’re buying the pizza,” Jughead grins, stretching his arms out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Archie mumbles, getting out his phone. While Archie places their delivery order, Jughead untangles himself from his fortress of pillows on the ground to check his own phone. JB has called and left a voicemail requesting that he bring an extra, empty suitcase because she may or may not have accumulated more clothes than she realized and whoops!

He sighs, and goes to his hall closet, where he pulls a duffle bag from the pile of things JB has already left in her wake. He’s not leaving for a few weeks, but he knows he’ll forget if he doesn’t put it right in front of himself. He throws it onto his bed to be dealt with later, and as he’s quietly closing the door behind him, he looks up and realizes Archie is watching him.

“What are you doing?” He asks, big eyebrows wrinkling. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh,” Jughead says distractedly, pulling his beanie from his head and using it to fan himself. Why does he always wear this stupid wool hat? It’s 90 degrees out with what feels like 99.99% humidity and he’s starting to suspect he’s got a problem with masochism. “Remember that JB is graduating this year? I’m driving out to Chicago for the ceremony and to help her move back to Boston.”

“Wow,” Archie says. “Is she really graduating college already? Damn bro, we’re getting old.”

“I’ve been old my whole life,” Jughead sighs wearily, hopping over the back of his couch to rejoin Archie, who is still on the floor in front of him. His friend grins up at him, and then, with a gasp, scuffles away to face Jughead head on.

“Dude, I’ve got a great idea,” he says, and that’s the moment that Jughead will later curse as he bangs his head against his steering wheel. “Why don’t I come? We’ll do the road trip we always talked about. We’ll camp, or stay in weird towns, go to all the stupid kitschy stuff you love to hate—it’ll be hella fun. My mom has been bugging me about visiting her in Chicago anyway, and I’ll just fly back when you meet up with JB. Come on. It’ll be so fun.”

Jughead wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, watching the big floor fan chug along. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I was just planning on driving there and back.”

Archie raises an eyebrow. “What’s the point of two best friends both having freelance jobs if we don’t take spontaneous road trips?”

He throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know, why do we pay rent anywhere either? Why do we bother working on this mortal plane? Why don’t I astral project my manuscripts? Why don’t we work from the fucking moon?”

Archie looks exasperated. “Dude, what else are you gonna do for the next month? I know you’re in a writer’s block.”

Jughead responds with an annoyed glare; he is a bit stuck on his latest novel, but he’s not about to admit it out loud. Somewhere in his inbox, an email from his editor is sitting and waiting, almost accusatorially, to be opened, and he’s doing his damn best not to think about it.

He settles for a shrug. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

“Look, what’s that book you were obsessed with in high school? On the Road Again, or something?”

“Just On the Road,” Jughead corrects with a sigh. “And I’ve long shed my preoccupations with that kind of faux, ritualistic idea of American masculinity.”

Archie gives him the look he usually gets when said something beyond his vocabulary. “Whatever. My point is—you need it. I need it. I could write a few road songs. I bet it would help shake you out of your rut.”

He may have a point. Jughead stares at the fan again. He probably will need to get out of this swamp masquerading as an apartment if he’s going to get anywhere on his sequel, anyway, and he and Archie have been making vague plans for a road trip since childhood…

“Once again, not confirming I am in any said rut,” Jughead says in a bored voice, “but it doesn’t sound completely terrible. I guess.”

Famous last words, he’ll realize.

.

.

.

They made plans to leave that weekend, deciding neither of them (read: Jughead) could come up with any reason not to start sooner than later. Archie had happily announced he would take care of the schedule, and although Jughead thought he maybe sounded too happy to be in charge of the itinerary, he also couldn’t muster up the energy to protest.

The trip starts innocently, and even with the potential for fun. They load up Jughead’s ancient mint green Ford truck with snacks and strap down their bags (and JB’s extra duffle) and first head to the cape for a couple of days at their friend Reggie’s beach house.

Reggie is more Archie’s friend than Jughead’s, but he still greets them both with open, drunken arms. “Bros!” He hollers, grabbing both of them in a crushing hug. He’s wearing a tank top that says Y’ALL READY FOR THIS? and Jughead thinks plainly that he’s not, but returns the hug all the same. “Welcome, welcome, to Casa de Partay.”

“Is that the formal Spanish translation?” Jughead mutters under his breath, but it goes unnoticed.

“Glad you two bachelors are here,” Reggie says cheerfully, “because Moose and Midge have been all coupley and it’s been fucking boring. Let’s shotgun a beer and head down to the water.”

Archie happily complies, although he shoots a worried look at Jughead beforehand. Jughead shakes his head and reaches for a Heineken of his own. He always appreciates the concern, but at 26, he’s long been around enough casual drinking that it no longer makes him feel small and alone in a trailer park every time he sees someone with a beer.

After they polish off their drinks, Reggie leads them down to the sand, where Moose and Midge are waiting for them. Despite also being people that know Archie better than they know Jughead, they’re still friendly towards him.

But they’ve always reminded him of Archie’s popular friends in high school, so it almost makes him more uncomfortable than if they’d been outright rude. He tries to tell himself that he is a damn adult now and the cliquey social judgments that plagued his adolescence are behind him.

They all want to head into the water, while Jughead volunteers to watch the stuff. Archie shoots him a look, but Jughead repeatedly insists he wants to read and will join them later. He settles onto a beach chair, sheds down to his undershirt (and spares Archie a lecture on calling it a wife-beater) and pulls his battered copy of Howl out of his back pocket.

He’d meant what he’d said about Kerouac, but as far as Beat writers go, Allen Ginsberg had always spoken to him. He leafs through it, and tries to focus on the poems, but his mind is elsewhere and after a few moments on the same paragraph, he accepts he’s not going to get anywhere.

He presses it against his chest and sighs, watching Archie and his friends frolic amongst the waves.

Truthfully, he doesn’t want to swim. He’s not a beach guy. The water’s always a little too cold. Sand just gets everywhere and stays everywhere for days. The idea of swimming out so far you can’t touch the ground terrifies him, and not just on a metaphorical level. And he’s definitely never gotten the point of getting thrashed around by 5ft waves for fun.

But seeing the four of them leap and duck under the water, Jughead feels annoyingly like a teenager again, watching awkwardly from the sidelines. You’re an adult. You don’t care. He rubs his temples and closes his eyes, tugging on his hat until it covers his whole face.

About half an hour later, he snaps to attention when something hits him gently across the chest. He pulls the hat above his eyes and sees Reggie standing over him and toweling off his hair.

“Sup, Infinite Jester,” he says, and Jughead has to admit that joke is a little more than clever. “You’re getting a little red. Lube up.”

Jughead realizes the object that had been dropped into his lap is a bottle of sunscreen. “Thanks, Reggie,” Jughead says slowly, still waiting to see if this is a trap; if the bottle is filled with actual lube or something worse. But with a concealed sniff, Jughead determines it to actually be benign and starts spreading it over his forearms and neck.

“No prob,” Reggie says easily, joining him on the neighboring beach chair. “I’m nothing if not a damn perfect host. You having a good time?”

He gives his book a little shake. “Just catching up on some reading.”

Reggie fixes him with a studying look. “Speaking of, I liked your book, man,” he says finally.

This surprises Jughead immensely. Despite having known Reggie for years as one of Archie’s college friends, he realizes he doesn’t know much about him other than that he works in finance and was already rich anyway. “You read my book?”

If he didn’t know any better, he might say Reggie looks somewhat self-conscious. “Yeah. I’m not all bros and beer 24/7, Juggalo. It was good. I mean, fucking sad. But good. Archie says you’re working on the sequel?”

Trying to, he thinks bitterly. Would be, if he had any idea where to start. “Yeah,” he says instead.

“Nice. Well, when I read the first one I was like, mad depressed for a week after. So give the guy a happy ending this time,” Reggie says, closing his eyes and settling back into his chair. He twists his arms up to the sun, as if beckoning it towards him.

Jughead pulls his hat back over his eyes.

A happy ending. What a concept.

.

.

.

The next few days follow in a similar pattern: Reggie, Archie, and a fluctuating company of beautiful people having a rumpus, drunken time, while Jughead ruminates on the poor life decisions that led to him sitting alone by a bonfire and assuring himself that he’s beyond such hedonistic pursuits.

If this wasn’t such a common occurrence—following after Archie’s plans and finding himself wishing he hadn’t when it always ends with him at the edge of a party, alone—he might actually be annoyed with his friend.

But he wonders if he’s lying to himself when he says that it doesn’t bother him. He and Archie don’t have as much in common as adults as they did as children, and Jughead sometimes speculates whether nostalgia alone is enough to keep their friendship going.

Not that they don’t still have things in common—they both like to write (if albeit in totally different forms), they both like video games…Jughead wracks his brain for an embarrassingly long moment before also deciding they have similar senses of humor.

Sort of. Archie likes his sense of humor, anyway, which is usually the thing that wards most people off.

But none of their differences mean shit, at the end of the day. Archie is like a brother to him, and so if that means he has to be a fringe element at the edge of a beach party for a night, so be it.

Besides, he’s always teetered at the edge of things his whole life. Teetered on the edge of childhood abandonment, on the edge of foster care, on the edge of his family’s addiction, on the edge of his peers, his schools, his life.

Looking in from the outside is an easy place to be; that’s what got him his New York Times starred review, anyway.

So quite literally, no good will come of questioning his comfort zone, and that’s that.

.

.

.

But once they hit the four-day mark, Jughead is itching to get back on the road, so they both pile back into the truck after long and surprisingly emotional bro hugs from a completely stoned Reggie.

The truck squeals a bit as he turns the ignition. “Did you hear that?” He asks Archie, though the engine is purring fine now.

Clearly also still a little stoned from Reggie’s wake-and-bake breakfast, Archie looks over at him, red eyed. “Hear what?”

“When you drove the car into town last night, did it make a weird noise?” Jughead presses.

“Nah,” Archie says, his head falling against the seat. He closes his eyes. “Man, I’m beat.”

“Good road trip, then,” Jughead says wryly. “Ready to go home to Boston?”

That gets Archie’s attention; he opens one bleary eye at him. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he says firmly. “I’ve got a lot more planned for us.”

Jughead snorts. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy anyway. “Where to next?” Jughead asks, as they pull out of Reggie’s driveway and into the morning light.

“Not telling,” Archie says, pulling up his phone map. “Take a left here.”

.

.

.

It turns out that Archie has led them back across the state to something called the Basketball Hall of Fame, which Jughead couldn’t find more boring if he’d tried. Archie loves it, and spends the whole time wondering aloud if he’d chosen the wrong sport in high school. But Jughead can’t stand it much longer, and wanders off to find a place to read until Archie’s ready to go.

“Got you an ice cream cone, buddy,” Archie says soothingly, finding the bench Jughead has long since camped out on.

“Great, because I’m twelve,” he mutters, though he eats it anyway.

“Sorry, I know this place isn’t your cup of tea, but the next thing is for you. You’ll like it, promise, or I’ll buy you two dinners.”

“Here’s hoping I hate it, then,” Jughead says dryly, as they make for the car. It makes that weird sound again, but it’s gone in an instant, and the Ford roars to life, so Jughead doesn’t have time to dwell on it before Archie starts feeding him new directions.

When they cross the border into New York state, Jughead gets nervous, but Archie is practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, which appeases him a bit. But if it turns out to be the Football Hall of Fame or the Baseball Hall of Fame or, hell, even the Racquetball Hall of Fame, he swears he’s turning around and going straight back to Boston.

But they turn into a parking lot with a sign reads Welcome to the Motorcyclepedia Museum! and Jughead is awash with relief. Motorcycles. This might actually be good. 

They pay for their tickets and head on in; the experience is completely wacky, and just as kitschy as Archie promised it would be, but actually kind of cool. There are famous motorcycles from history, including one that road in the motorcade the day JFK was shot, and even some from movies, which he particularly geeks out over.

Granted, the bar was pretty low after Archie dragged him to a weekend long beach party of self-indulgence and then the fucking Basketball Hall of Fame, but Jughead has to it to him: this one was pretty fun.

Especially because Jughead always wanted a motorcycle, like his dad, and he’d even learned to ride and gotten as far as the special program certificate as required by the state of Massachusetts. He’d been all set to get one—but then life got in the way, as it does, and the motorcycle suddenly seemed like such a silly idea. He had responsibilities thrust upon him and he wasn’t gonna drop his sister off at school from the back of a bike. So he turned to the truck, and it hasn’t proved him wrong yet.

“Knew you’d like this place,” Archie grins as they head back towards the parking lot. Dusk is settling low over their heads. “So you’re buying dinner.”

“That was not the deal, so, no,” Jughead chuckles, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Alright, I propose we drive a little more, grab some grub, and then find a motel to crash for the night.”

“Sounds good, dude,” Archie says, pulling out his map. “Alright…we wanna get on 90, so we should take highway 87 up the state. Let’s head towards Hudson and stop there for food and beds. Midge told me about how cute it is up there and said we should check it out. Apparently she and Moose went antiquing there once.”

“Golly, Archie,” Jughead drawls, “I didn’t realize this was an elaborate excuse to go looking for the perfect shabby chic bedroom set of our dreams.”

“Shut up,” Archie laughs. “Just drive. It’s getting late and I’m a growing boy. Need to eat.”

“Hate to break it to you pal, but you’re 26. Officially, you’re done growing,” Jughead says, as he puts the key in the ignition. It squeaks at him again, but once again starts without any other issue. He stares at his steering wheel. “Why does it keep doing that?”

“Dunno,” his friend yawns. “I’m sure it’s fine. Come on. Food. Archie hungry. Archie want to eat.”

“Ugh, don’t get all caveman on me. I’m hungry constantly and I still manage to use all my grammatical articles,” Jughead sighs, pulling out of the parking lot. The ride upstate is quiet and twinkling as the stars come out to greet them. Even on the road, the further upstate they get, the brighter the stars become.

However, also the further upstate they get, the hungrier Jughead gets. He realizes he hasn’t eaten much all day and, with an audible growl from his stomach, he decides he might not make it all the way to Hudson.

“What are you doing?” Archie asks, as Jughead starts to cross lanes towards an exit.

“Taking the first exit I see,” Jughead says grouchily, his appetite making him grumpy. “I’m suddenly starving.”

“Dude, it’s not far left to Hudson, just keep going,” Archie says.

But a bright neon sign is visible from the far right lane and Jughead gives a triumphant, “A-ha! A diner. I want a damn small-town-diner burger and I want it now. We’re going there.”

Shrugging, Archie doesn’t argue. That’s another thing that Jughead likes about his best friend: he’s as impulsive as he is go-with-the-flow. It sometimes makes for a disastrous combination of attitudes, as Archie tends to believe following the yen to make a ridiculously sudden 180 in his life will just “work out” but right now, Jughead appreciates the hell out of it. His stomach howls at him.

They pull off the highway and follow the massive neon sign, which just reads Pop’s in bold red letters. Jughead might’ve expected some kind of truck stop diner, given it’s proximity to the road and the set of train cars ambling along a track behind the restaurant, but it seems quaintly doo-wop and almost straight out of time.

He and Archie throw a tarp over their bags in the bed of the truck and hustle inside. Soft, ambient music welcomes them and the crowd is mostly families and teenagers. It just might be a wholesome as it appears.

A round-faced man meets them at the door. “Two?” He asks amiably.

Jughead nods, taking in his surroundings. Something in his chest unlocks to the tune of a jukebox, and the soft red light falling gently over the restaurant sets him at a peace he didn’t know he was missing. It’s quiet. Safe. Calm. Everything a small town diner should be.

Something pokes his shoulder, and he realizes it’s Archie gesturing to follow after him to their table. He slides into his booth and heaves a deep sigh. “This looks good,” Archie says lightly, glancing over his menu.

Good doesn’t begin to cover it, Jughead thinks, gears whirring in his mind. The character in his first book would love a place like this. He’d been planning on setting the sequel in the same city as the first, but now he’s wondering if plopping the hero in a completely new setting is what the manuscript has been missing.

But then what? Move him for what reason? What is he looking for? What would be his motivation?

Jughead wishes he had his laptop, or a pen and paper at least, because this is the first burst of inspiration he’s had in months and he doesn’t want to lose it. But his computer is locked away in the car and he’s too hungry to properly focus anyway.

Their waitress appears at their table expectantly, and she’s very pretty, so Jughead waits for the inevitable drooling and clumsiness from Archie. True to form, the redhead tries to rest his elbow on his menu, but it slips under him and he practically hits his forehead on the table.

She watches with mirth. “Hi,” she says, in a cool, sophisticated voice. “I’m Veronica, and I’ll be your server tonight. Do you need another minute, or do you boys know what you want?”

Jughead thinks that Archie certainly does.

So with a sigh, he folds himself over his menu. “Double cheeseburger. The works. Fries. Pickles. Chips might be good too, actually. Vanilla milkshake. And a black coffee.”

Veronica raises an arched eyebrow. “That’s all for you? Or is there a tapeworm in there somewhere paying rent?”

Archie laughs loudly at her joke—a little too loudly, because she turns to him with a curious, amused look. But, Jughead notes, not an uninterested look either. He’s not surprised. This is the perpetual riddle of Archie Andrews—makes a total clumsy buffoon of himself, yet somehow still gets a date anyway.

He assumes it must have something to do with Archie’s looks and gym schedule, but it’s still always been a bit of a mystery to him. He knows he’s not completely without positive traits, but if he slipped on his own menu and then guffawed loudly at a girl’s joke, she’d look at him like a piece of old gum under a shoe.

Archie ends up ordering a regular cheeseburger and just fries, and Veronica whisks away. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Archie gets a star struck look in his eye and says, “Man, I’m glad you picked this place.”

.

.

.

Dinner is good—quite good, actually—and surprisingly not too greasy given it’s a small town diner off the side of the highway. Jughead is bereft to go, but he orders a burger for the road, and it’ll have to do.

They load up into the truck; Archie has been sighing for the past ten minutes, like some tortured Shakespearean lover. “Why didn’t I try to get her number?” He asks, for the third time.

Jughead puts the keys in the ignition. “Because we’re going to Chicago, you live in Boston, and she lives in some random small town in upstate New York. I’ll get you a fishing rod when we get home so you can see how many fish there are in the sea.”

Archie just sighs moonily again.

Jughead turns the keys, the now familiar squeaking and clicking sound greeting him. Only this time, it doesn’t immediately stop. In fact, it doesn’t stop at all.

Jughead curses, and tries to turn the keys again. The engine makes a terrible whirring sound and, to Jughead’s horror, smoke starts to rise from the hood of the truck. He immediately pulls the keys out of the ignition and stares, jaw-slacked, as Archie rushes out to open up the hood. He steps back and waves the smoke out of his face. “This looks bad, Jug,” he coughs. “Uh, I think we're stuck.” 

Jughead bangs his forehead against the steering wheel. Hits it once, hits it twice. Repeats it again for good measure.

.

.

.

.

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[jennifuryz]

And Just as Life Was Getting Back to Normal…

April 4, 2020

Again, I have spent almost another year without writing.    2019 had its ups and downs.   In July we drove down to the vacation house Hubby bought in New Mexico. It is a cute little place.  I like how the backyard is surrounded by a tall fence. Hubby and my younger son drove the van and stayed for three weeks.  I drove my older son and the dogs and we stayed for a week. It was an interesting trip. Hubby and my younger son love the desert but my older son and I prefer the green forests and farmlands of the Midwest.

           BFF1 was supposed to visit the week after I got back. We made all kinds of plans and even scheduled a day to meet up with BFF3 and my High School Best Friend.  But three days before the trip BFF1 called me and told me she had to cancel.   She thought she might have cancer and was waiting to hear the results.    I told BFF3 and HSBF that we needed to cancel. Then I contacted them again to see if we could go ahead and get together anyway.  I felt I could use a distraction.  Well, they both bailed out on me.  I have not seen either of them since.   I am not angry with them (although I probably should be,) I just got tired of setting myself up for disappointments.  

           The good news is BFF1 did not have cancer, but it took almost THREE fucking weeks for her to get the results.   Three weeks is a VERY long time when you are worried and stressed and waiting for news.  It pretty much destroyed the rest of the summer.  

           We did get some good news at the end of August. BFF2 and his wife had a healthy baby boy on my younger son’s birthday.

           Fall was actually pretty good for the most part.  BFF1 was having a difficult time with her job so I was not able to go visit her.  I hate it when I have to go more than a year without seeing her.   The weather was not that great, we had a lot of rain, but we had a few nice days.  My older son is now a senior and my younger son is now a sophomore—and a jock.  He decided to go out for cross country and being involved in sports has really been good for him.  He still slacks off in school, but has been getting into far less trouble.   We did spend a few Saturdays driving to see his cross country meets and I really enjoyed that.  One time his meet was in one of the cities I grew up in.  The city is halfway between where we live and where my parents live so they drove down and met us at the meet.  I also managed to get ahold of a friend of mine who still lives there and we got to meet up. It was the first time we had seen each other in 35 years.  I also drove around town and visited places I remembered.  I took some pictures of the house I lived in.  

           For Halloween we had nine trick or treaters. Last year we hit our record of ten, but eight of them were my sons’ friends that all showed up at once.  This year my sons did not go trick or treating, so the nine that showed up this year we genuine. Maybe word is getting out that we give out bags of assorted candy and full size candy bars.

           My 94 year-old grandmother had been living in an apartment near my parents, but her dementia was getting worse so they moved her into assisted living in my city. The place is only 17 minutes from me so I visited her often.  But then she fell and broke her hip and had to spend two weeks in the hospital and another month in a rehabilitation center. My parents spent most of November staying with us so they could check on her daily.  My brother also got home from working in Antarctica.  He stayed with us for a while, then found an apartment.

           My 2002 Volkswagen finally died.  I knew it was on its last wheels and had been saving up for a new car.  I only had about half the money saved up and had to take out a loan, but I did get a 2018 Honda Fit.  It is cute and has great mileage. It is bright yellow, but I think that is kind of neat. It is easy to find in the parking lot.  It doesn’t have a CD player, which is a real problem, but it has a better radio and I am able to pick up a new alternative station that plays good music.

           I also applied to renew my teaching license in September. It is much easier to get a license now than it used to be.  I am sure that the fact that the state has gone from trying to get rid of teachers to desperately needing teachers plays a part.  I did have to wait two months to get my license.  In the meantime, I took an online class on what is new in children’s literature.  

           I hosted Thanksgiving this year, although not very many of my out-of-town relatives made it. After cross country ended my son decided to go out for wrestling. The day before Thanksgiving he got hurt at practice. His opponent fell on him and broke both bones in his forearm.  He spent the rest of the day in the hospital, had to wear a cast for six weeks, and was not able to go skiing—which he lives for!

           I was determined to have a great Christmas this year.  Christmas of 2017 wasn’t very good because my mother-in-law had just died and Christmas of 2018 was full of disappointments and stressers. So I was determined to make this Christmas great.   I did not get to do all the things I wanted, I never did find a box of decorations that went missing, we did not get any snow and the tree farm where we used to get our tree closed right after Thanksgiving.  But I did get a lot of shopping done, bought a real tree at a stand, decorated the house like crazy and did quite a bit of baking.

           In January I started applying for substitute teaching, but it took several weeks before I got registered for the job website, found three references, collected three letters of recommendation, went to interviews, took the online classes, and got all the medical requirements filled.  I cut back on my caregiver hours and arranged to sub on Wednesdays and Fridays.  I finally got to sub in early March, even though it was only half a day and I subbed for a paraeducator working one on one with students with special needs.  But it really felt natural for me to be working in a school again and I was really excited about finally getting my life back together.

           And then the worst tragedy to hit the world in a century struck.

Corona Virus. COVID-19.  When I first heard about it, I thought it might be a concern, just as SARS, H1N1, and Ebola had been, but I never imagined it would get this serious.  

           I had just started substitute teaching when the schools closed.  Then I feel guilty, as if I jinxed the world by almost getting my life back together. Logically, I know that is impossible. My career plans could not have caused a virus to mutate on the other side of the world.  But my life plans are not important right now.  People all over the world are dying! Life as we know it is getting messed up.  Evil idiots are harassing and attacking people of Asian descent just because the virus first struck a city in China!  

I know it is probably only a matter of time before someone I love gets struck.   BFF1 and one of my cousins have been sick, but do not know if it is Covid.   They did not get too sick and are both doing much better.  They are still staying quarantined for the full 14 days, though.

My older son is not having problems with the isolation.  He now has permission to do what he always does—sit in his room and play video games.  My younger son is not doing so well. He had to cancel his spring break trip to go to New Mexico and going skiing in the mountains.  At first he said the closings and isolations were stupid and overreacting.  He changed his mind when they closed the schools.  But we had a big fight when we told him he could not have friends over. Usually the boys have friends coming and going all the time.  They don’t bother to knock anymore, they just come in.  On weekends it is normal for me to come downstairs and find half a dozen teenage boys sleeping on the floors, chairs and couches.   My younger son is hard to keep track of since he is always wandering off with friends.  But now everyone stays home. My son was just about to start track and field, but that is off (although he still wants me to buy him new track shoes.)

For the first week of isolation, I pretty much slept a lot and watched TV.  I know I should be cleaning the house and doing projects, but cannot motivate myself to do anything.  Some of my clients at my caregiver job cancelled until this is over. I told my supervisors that since I will not be able to do any substitute teaching I am available to fill in for other people.  They asked if I could work every day for a week with someone who just got out of the hospital (not from Corona.)  I said sure. I thought it was just for a week, but now they want to keep me.  I am only working three hours a day, but it is still a long drive and kind of a stressful client.  Then I feel guilty thinking about all the medical workers who are working 13 hour days trying to save the lives of Covid-infected people without enough supplies. My husband is on my case because if I make too much money I could lose my disability pay.   True, I really hoped that this year I would be able to get off disability and be able to work full time and support myself again, but if schools stay closed I don’t know how that will happen.   Then I feel guilty thinking about all the people who are unable to work and don’t get any financial support.

I feel the same way I did eight years ago when I lost my job.  I keep thinking this is all a nightmare and soon I will wake up and things will be back to normal.

April, oh what is the date? Oh, the 18th.  I cannot keep track of dates anymore.

Since I started writing this post, my older son turned 18, I turned 51, and the world is turning for the worse.  I kept on working until last Wednesday, when I woke up feeling extremely tired and achy. I made myself get up and clean the litter boxes and take the garbage out and felt light headed and short of breath. Needless to say I called into work. So far I never developed a fever or a cough and am feeling better than I did a few days ago.  But I am scheduled to stay off work for two weeks and am quarantining myself in the house and keeping a distance from my family.  I have no idea if this is Covid or some other bug or maybe even just stress related.  But I am not taking any chances.  I am even avoiding touching the cats.  I read that cats and ferrets are susceptible to Covid (although we no longer have any ferrets.) So far it looks like dogs are safe, so I am letting the dogs sit on me while I watch television.  

For Easter I did one last Easter Egg treasure hunt for my sons.  This time I had a theme based on The Office. Then we made a big “Happy Easter” sign and drove over to where my grandmother lives so she could see it out of her window.  Her building has been closed to visitors since early March, but someone in the building still got Covid, so now the residents are not allowed to leave their rooms.  When my grandmother was about five or six, the UK had a Scarlet Fever epidemic that killed a lot of children. My grandmother got sick and had to be quarantined in the hospital for six weeks.  She had to sleep in a crib and they shaved everyone’s head and they were not allowed any visitors.  Her parents would go to the hospital and wave to her from outside through the window.  Now, some 88-89 years later, the same thing is happening again. 

Oh, BFF1 and my cousin are both better. But my husband’s cousin in New York City is sick, and it is Corona.  He experienced the loss of sense of smell.