#anyway fucking hell i can't. i cannot. these two break me apart

[bisexualcroissant]

Thinking about Jean and Elodie Moreau again. Thinking about doomed siblings, and the unspeakable tragedy of it all; Jean’s hopeless despair and his need to know why, why hadn’t they saved her, because Elodie hadn’t deserved it—not like he did, right? They weren’t the same, they couldn’t be.

Jean remembering France, remembering blackberries and the little ducks of Elodie’s dress and the salty breeze off the Mediterranean. She’d been ten when he left home, just ten when he’d stopped protecting her from their mother’s temper and father’s violent business. Did she know he hadn’t gone by choice? Did she blame him or forgive him?

Jean wondering, but not being sure if he wanted to know what had really happened, because as long as he didn’t he could remember Elodie as she had been in his memory, as safe: So long as she existed as fractured memories, she was safe and small and sheltered. The long, terrible silence after Jean asked about her, and Stuart’s awful, “Did you think you were special?”

Jean’s disbelief at the unfathomable, because it was, it couldn’t be true—a single question shattering his deep-rooted belief that he had deserved everything he got, so nothing bad could have happened to Elodie, because unlike him she didn’t deserve it, right? Right? “Elodie,” Jean said, and just hearing her name aloud almost snapped him in half. “She was only ten when I left home. Ten! Why didn’t they love her enough to keep her safe? Why didn’t they–” love me?

Neil quietly saying, “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Jean’s spiral, his despair, everything breaking in an instant: They sold us both to monsters and slammed the door on our screams. Why? Why? Why?

The photograph outside the Moreau childhood home. All that mattered were the two kids sitting in the backyard: Jean at nine or ten, with a tiny Elodie buried against his side. He remembered that dress of hers, with its little yellow ducks. He’d clumsily patched up the hem a half-dozen times when she tore it on the blackberry bushes taking over their backyard. How much Jean had loved her. But in the end it wasn’t enough, not to change his fate, nor hers.

Jean and Elodie as children, as they had been. Jean the older brother who had protected her, sent away at the age of fourteen to never come home again. Jean’s unspeakable loss knowing Elodie was gone. Realising that nothing either of them ever did would have been enough to make their parents protect them; to love them enough to keep them safe. Jean’s heart, knocking holes in his ribcage, his quickly fracturing control, the escalating, violent grief. Endure. Endure. Endure.

“I am just a Moreau,” Jean said, flat and fierce. “I am not—”

“So was Elodie,” Neil reminded him, and Jean stopped breathing. “Remember that the next time you think you aren’t worth saving.”

[crusty-chronicles]

hii! i really love your airhead s/o series!! especially that ging one, perhaps can you make a part 2 of airhead s/o x ging? i really love it😭😭

You know what, why the hell not. There simply isn't enough of this stinky man out there and I truly do love him. He's cute in the feral rat kinda way 🥺

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Ging part 2

Like a thorn in his side, you simply won't leave

He doesn't recall how exactly he met you, but he does remember what he said that started all this.

"Keep up with me if you can."

And keep up you did. A little too well. And now he was stuck with you.

Buys plastic plates and Styrofoam cups because you can't break them.

Seriously, every good dish he had is shattered in the trash somewhere.

No plastic spoons or forks though

He tried that once and you had broken them, unawares that the extra crunch to your cereal was plastic

Is amazed and a little curious to find out you set the sink on fire.

Like honsetly, what the fuck???? Should he be impressed or scared.

Ging is a lazy stinky man

He has you in one of those backpacks with leashes when you go out in crowded places.

Cannot be bothered to go looking for you, so the next best thing is to leash you so you don't wander far.

You'll see something you think is cool and rush off, only to be stopped by a small tug pulling you back.

"Can you focus for one second?"

And for the first time he actually looks the part of a parent as he tugs you back towards him.

"Quit running around, pup."

God forbid the leash is detachable and you find out how to get free

"Yes, I need some help. My idiot got loose and I can't find them."

"Sir this is a Mcdonalds."

The one thing he made sure to tell Gon atop the Great tree, was to make sure he found somebody who always kept him on his toes.

"Why?"

"Life is better when the person you're with makes it interesting." Completely unaware you were only a few branches down listening.

Panics when you leave for hunter business because of that one time.

"Pick up your phone, idiot!!!! Damnit! How many times have I told you not to go by yourself!"

Waits for you like an upset parent that just caught their kid sneaking back in

Arms crossed, sitting on your sofa style

Waiting impatiently as you bump into the vase by the door after breaking the lock to get in.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

And you stare up at him with puppy eyes holding out a small box.

"I got you a souvenir." 🥺

And it's most likely broken but he appreciates it anyways.

All great hunters are liked by animals.

You get adopted by nearly all the apex predators you come across

And Ging is distressed because 'That is a fucking lion, Y/n. You can't just cuddle it.'

He tries to take you away from it, only for whatever creature had you hostage to growl at him.

Then it continues licking you and eventually whines when you get up to follow a very perplexed Ging.

(He secretly thinks it's cool)

Ging knows you're stupid, but that you're not an idiot

He knows you get lost on missions frequently and for the life of you can't not break something for five seconds.

But he also knows that you can tell when people are lying and being disingenuous

You hate Pariston for a reason

That and he lied to you once about something which resulted in you refusing to talk to him for weeks

He totally didn't care

Totally didn't try to send you a message only to see you'd blocked his number (how you accomplished that, he'd never know)

Totally didn't ask Kite to check up on you and make sure you hadn't died or something

What him? Never

And he also totally didn't swing by your apartment to leave a box of your favorite snacks on your doorstep

Couldn't be him 🙄🙄🙄

Yeah, he never tried to lie to you after that.

He refuses to baby you, but if someone makes fun of you for not being able to do something, he's kicking their ass

Makes you teach Gon some of your nen tricks

Just because he knows you're capable enough to do so

You're not a two star hunter for nothing.

Plus it means you two get to bond. Which is something he'd deny to his grave

Him, wanting his partner and son to be close???

You're delusional, he doesn't care 🙄🙄🙄

Yes he does and what he lied to you about was having a kid in the first place.

He just knew you'd spill the secret on his whereabouts is all

Gon thinks you are the coolest person he's met so far.

Alluka, who can grant wishes? She's cool

You, who took him fishing and caught an alligator by wrestling it????

You're his idol 🤩🤩🤩

And Ging is so damn proud because the next day his son brought home this huge sea monster he caught with your help.

"Why wouldn't I settle for a capable partner," is the biggest compliment he'll give.

He is a man child who fights for your attention with anybody. Not even poor little Gon is safe 😞

The barista's hand brushed against yours while handing you a drink?

Ging is dragging you out by your hand, glaring behind at the confused worker.

You're catching up with an old friend?

Okay, but they're clearly not that interesting if you ditched them for him. So quit wasting time and follow him to this cool thing he just found.

Gon wants you to teach him and his friend a new ability?

It's a family event now

Physically cannot say he loves you

He's just not used to it

And he can't even hint to it through romantic gestures because you don't understand subtlety

But, he's more physical with you than with most people

You get to jostle him around in your excitement and pull him everywhere you go

Doesn't mean he won't complain about it

He just won't push you off

"That's enough, pup. You'll make me dizzy."

"But I haven't seen you in a while, don't be all mean."

And he regrettably lets you keep your arms tight around him

You can't read maps and he's so surprised you accomplish anything that requires travel

Showers

He showers with you or he doesn't at all

He just wants to make sure you don't fall in there okay. 🙄You already trip on dry land, so imagine the wet tile.

It's because he likes the way you're so gentle when you wash his scalp. And because you always have the best scented soaps.

Kissed you one time and collapsed from embarrassment

Like a real kiss, not the little forehead ones he gives when you've been good.

Red in the face and unable to look at you properly

All because he said he stole your favorite sweet and taunted you for it.

You'd tackled him down and kissed him, swiping your tongue on his lips.

And he was 😳😳😳

And when you pulled away with a triumphant smile on your face, he actually did faint.

You were so confused because he didn't taste like your candy??? Did he lie to you again???

Gets flustered if Gon asks him when he's gonna marry you.

Like c'mon kid, don't say things like that!!! They're literally right there!

(Doesn't want to marry you because he couldn't take it if you decided you couldn't stand him after all. But he also really does because you keep his life interesting)

"I want what I can't have."

Didn't know he wanted an idiot until trying and failing so many times to get you to see he actually does care

MASTERLIST

[bluberryfields]

"What the hell did you just do?"

Part 2 of whatever. Continuing on with Tadfield Manor scenes, we get to the infamous "Wall" scene. I know it has been analyzed by many so far, but that's never stopped people in the world of literary analysis from spewing their own thoughts on well-reviewed texts. Also, I just want to.

Okay, so once they enter the manor building and see the management training branding, Crowley decides to "help out" and make all of the paintball guns into real machine guns. He snaps his fingers and points double finger guns at the passing "soldier".

Aziraphale is dumbfounded. "What the hell did you just do?

Such language, Angel! And no physical reaction to it like Crowley did when he said "Heaven's sake" in E6. Huh.

Crowley, meanwhile, is thoroughly pleased with himself. They want to battle? He's happy to oblige.

This plus the scare in the courtyard lets us see Crowley enjoying the few perks of being a demon. It's fucking adorable.

Aziraphale cannot comprehend how Crowley - who just miracled a stain away on his coat because it bothered him - could do something so thoroughly evil. And with a jaunty step!

If Aziraphale had pearls, he'd be clutching them so hard.

To which Crowley takes the opportunity to once again point out the flawed binary system of morality. We the audience will see this argument again in the Body Snatcher minisode, so it's fun to see how these two keep having the same old debates throughout time just with different causes with which to start from.

Pointing out hypocrisy while slinking down a hall? Crowley, you delicious tramp.

Aziraphale is still thoroughly horrified, but Crowley concedes with a sigh that everyone will, in fact, be fine. To me, his tone is a mix of disappointment at him not being quite as much of a bastard as he paints himself. He can't really hide his true self from Aziraphale.

I love how he can't stop moving his body. Snakes gonna slither.

Then here is it. The big moment. Smug little Aziraphale feels the need to mention how nice Crowley is underneath his demonic persona.

We now know that this is a reoccurring exchange, where Crowley must defend his title of Big Bad Demon in front of Azi's kind compliments. There's serious consequences to Crowley being labeled "nice" and Azi knows this by now. So why does he keep bringing it up? To provoke Crowley? To finally break him into admitting Azi is right? It's not like Azi can protect Crowley from Hell's wrath, but he pushes anyway.

I thought Crowley was the shit-stirrer in this relationship.

And now my favorite part. Sister Mary shows up and rightly implies these two are about to nail each other through the drywall. But when she recognizes Crowley, he stops her in her tracks.

The sass! It's off the fucking chart! Only an Angel could withstand such a display!

Aziraphale just straightens his clothes and lets the sass go unchallenged because he's still has a bit of self-preservation instincts left.

So I already talked about the "Luck of the devil" line from Aziraphale here, but it truly is a fun moment in the context of the whole scene. Crowley is worked up from the "nice" comment and Aziraphale's seeming refusal to stop analyzing him.

Horny Aziraphale is sassy and Crowley looks like he wants to bite through a door frame.

So, obviously, I've spent way too much time rewatching these scenes, but I do find it so interesting how we see so much of their relationship on display within just a few minutes. The different personality traits to draw them together while also pushing them apart.

The way Aziraphale knows how to work Crowley, who in turns knows how to indulge appropriately. (*cough* bullet catch *cough*)

The way Crowley happily taps into his demonic toolbox to spread a bit of chaos without actually causing serious harm. (*cough* Job *cough*)

The way Aziraphale reflexively tows the party line of Heaven even in the face of Crowley's demonstrations of humanity's instincts. (*cough* all of time *cough*)

And basically the way they bring out the best (and sometimes worst) of each other. Some might say they're a team. Or a group. A group of the two of them.

[1moreff-creator]

Brain go brr on the Q&A

+Xander trying to hide his piercing from his school is so him, I love it.

+Listen, I don't want to overthink the Q&A too much, but my brain won't let me be normal about some things. The birthday thing caught my eye. Supposedly, some of the dates are important, but the rest are meant to be spread out, right? But Veronika and David's birthdays are, like, two days apart, so does that mean they're important? Same with Ace and Arei (ike three days), but at least Ace's birthday is Halloween so it's not hard to figure out. I don't remember most of the other birthdays, so I don't know if there's more examples.

+Why is this the "new David"'s default sprite? Is he so smug it runs all the way to his default pose? What.

+David can cook, malewife status confirmed. Also, "how does he handle his feelings? Badly" That's hilarious.

+New info on the Spurlings! This is getting outta hand, now there's two of them! I'm really intrigued as to what the hell their deal is. And Duke could have been alive during the Tragedy? What are we implying here? So many questions!

+Ace is officially gay! Many people are happy with this development. Though I have to ask, did anyone ship him with any woman? Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen that. Anyways, not like it matters now!

+Pan Veronika, pan Veronika, pan Veronika yes! I love it! New headcanon; she just dates/has sex with anyone she thinks will be entertaining to date/fuck. "Bit-sexual", as internet funnyman Alpharad would put it.

+I swear the David sexuality thing is an actual quote from somewhere. Hold on.

Found it! Not the exact wording, but Andrew Garfield said something like it once. I love it, it's perfect for David!

+So Charles' scar is a dog bite, but he doesn't remember and thinks it's a birthmark? Is it... related to his brother's death? Dev, what. You can't just say things like that and then not elaborate. /j

+Levi with a sweet tooth is fantastic. I think it was already implied in his profile, but it's still great!

+Alright, about favorite colors:

Teruko: red (reasoning: association)

So... Xander or Mai? I'm leaning towards Mai, frankly.

Charles: "Why would I assign emotional value to colors? That's a ridiculous waste of energy." (cerulean)

That quote is hilarious. And now I can't help but imagine Charles unironically writing "cerulean orbs" in a fanfic-

Whit: neon pink (reasoning: "Pink!!")

God, I love these characters.

J: black (reasoning: cool)

I wouldn't expect less.

Nico: none (reasoning: no interest)

I honestly kinda love this, but also what does it mean.

Ace: dark blue/purple (reasoning: refuses to provide reasoning)

Acevi shippers are eating today, holy.

Arei: azure (reasoning: "I'm blue, so clearly it's the best color!")

Why did you have to die?

Min: taupe (reasoning: comforting)

Min information: absorbed. Love it. Also her design has a lot of taupe (I think) so it's comforting to me too.

Veronika: white in conjunction with other colors (reasoning: brings out other colors well)

Huh.

Alright, now least favorite:

Whit: gray (reasoning: boring)

Alright, tone it down, Kamukura.

Rose: none (reasoning: all colors have their value in the right situations)

Fantastic, I adore this.

Eden: blue (reasoning: "Kind of a downer color...")

Areden shippers in shambles. How would you say this about your girlfriend's color, Eden?

J: pink (reasoning: obvious)

If you listen closely, you'll hear Whit's heart breaking in the distance. But this is expected.

Hu: blueish white (reasoning: sterile)

This is Arturo's fave. Are we setting up a foil thing here? I'd honestly love to see it, Arturo and Hu may be the characters I want to see the most of after maybe Veronika.

Nico: white (reasoning: unsettling)

Nico, what- what the hell are you talking about?

Ace: titian (reasoning: doesn't like himself)

Ouch.

Min: white and pink together (reasoning: annoying)

Dude, Whit cannot stop catching L's here, what is going on. Anyways, Min info absorbed.

Veronika: white in the absence of other colors (reasoning: soulless)

So, this is pretty interesting and all that... but she dislikes the same color as Nico? The Vero-Nico dynamic grows stronger! You love to see it. Or I love to see it, I adore them as friends/spiritual siblings.

+Ace has nine siblings?! That's a lot of kids!

+Nico cuts their own hair, and gets the cat ear things to stay up? Ultimate Hairdresser in the bulding!

+

Veronika's single green earring is a 'good luck charm' given to her by her dearest friend.

Aafgsj- Who?! Okay, first, I didn't even realize she had that, so thanks for pointing it out. Second, you can't just say that! Because you know I'm gonna assume that's Mai, especially with it being a 'good luck' charm when Mai is (kinda) the antithesis of Teruko and thus (kinda) the antithesis of bad luck. Am I to assume Veronika will be plot relevant now? Because I sure hope she is! I wasn't supposed to overthink the Q&A, dev, but look at what you're doing to me!

+Now the ice cream flavors:

Charles - coffee

This is actually stated in his profile. You gotta admire the consistency.

Hu - rose

Honey, wake up, a new random ship based on one (1) detail just dropped. It's a pretty cute one, too.

Nico - "the flavor" (doesn't elaborate further)

What is Nico doing in this Q&A? What am I supposed to gather from this?

Min - lemon

Min info drop spotted. I'm very normal about this character.

Xander - sauerkraut???

Xander, what the fuck are you talking about.

Veronika - funfetti

Honestly love this. White with other colors, right? It's perfect!

+Rose's painting preferences are cool to know, and she does give off a bit of middle child vibes, idk why. And two moms? Pog.

+That concept art! DRDT would have ended a lot earlier if Arei simply had a gun.

+Smells! (which of you people-)

Veronika - Womanly perfume (heavy)

I... was not expecting that! But it's Veronika info, so I absorb it. I kinda like the idea.

Nico - Cat

The more I learn about Nico, the more I love them.

Min - Lavender/eucalyptus/lemons/whatever essential oil she decided to use that day

W-Why does she use essential oils? I guess they must help her relax, because there's no way she actually believes they have any other benefit. Unexpected, but it's neat.

Whit - Fruity fun shampoo (for kids)

Yeah, yeah.

+Interesting that the Spurling Foundation and XF-Ture Tech don't have any connection, I guess that post I made on Min's secret is slightly outdated. Still, XF-Ture Tech "seems to do a lot of other things", huh? Peculiar.

I loved this Q&A, it was so much fun! I hope something like this is done again in the future, it's great.

[misssugarpinkshome]

Author Update!

Boy oh Boy have I got a story for you.

[Stares in November] I bet you're wondering how I got here! Well-

(TW: Abuse, Sui, Health Scares, Unsanitary Shit, and a lot -- I MEAN A LOT -- of stress and trauma.)

JULY

The Pink Eye curse (thankfully) ended

Not sure if the ringworm went away?

Electric will be starting soon on the house! It'll be estimated to cost fourty fucking grand, but... at least our house won't catch on fire?

EMDR goes super well and genuinely I'm really happy I started doing it.

My friends started up a discourse server with me. This can't go wrong, can it?

By the way, a user in June posted this huge callout post that ended up with my friend in the hospital for watch. I wrote up a huge post in response of "please fucking stop." Drama Ensues but I sort of ignore it all because I'm trying to discourse less.

AUGUST

Electric will be starting soon!

Wait

ELECTRIC WHY ARE YOU TAKING SO LO-

We go camping!!! Try not to think about it!!! Get bitten to hell and back by mosquitoes, which you're allergic to-

Anyways, school started! Did I mention they decided to tell us about two weeks before school started that we have an entirely new rubric scale which makes it so kids cannot earn an A unless they get a 100%

[Screaming]

I am BOMBARDED with shitty parent emails about how I'm an absolute failure at my job and how the kids deserve better :')

I try my best to combat this and fail.

EMDR continues to go well for about a week into the school year, and then I am far, far too stressed out to continue it. Sigh...

Electric starts to wrap up 3/4s of the way through August (a month after they said they would be done), so we start finally plastering the walls of the house, because the walls need replastering.

I am... terrified of being on ladders, so I instead work on paint stripping the fireplace that the previous owners painted white for no reason.

I am undergoing a severe traumaversery while this all happens, as last year, I cut off my family.

We buy a new shower, because the house needs a replacement. That's 20 grand.

We discover more and more wrong with the house, but we do our best regardless. Our friends help us regrade the soil, which is mandatory if we don't want our basement to be flooded.

At this point, every single weekend is spent on housework entirely, either on our new house or on trying to maintain our basement apartment.

The basement apartment floods.

Twice.

My roommate's friend commits suicide. Me and my fiance try to comfort her as best we can, but we are both tapped out emotionally, and there's nothing much we can do.

My friend messages me a suicide note while I'm asleep.

SEPTEMBER

My friend reaches out around the third that they aren't dead, and are in medical care. I pray to god they will be safe.

School continues to be stressful. I am ready to break under the pressure almost immediately. I'm not proud to say I took it out on the kids a bit, who deserved far better than my anger. None of them seem upset by my yelling anymore now, but I really don't like who I became this month.

My school discriminates against me. I am asked to stop using my pronouns publicly; using they/them and going by Mx. is fine, but I can't change pronouns. It's "too confusing for concrete thinkers." I go to my union rep in tears and break down.

This cascades into a lawsuit that I am not part of. I have no idea what's happening. I am hardly communicated with. I am so so scared.

We prepare for Renn Faire. A mouse has shat and pissed through most of my partner's vintage Renn Faire outfits, which have molded due to the basement flooding.

We go to the Renn Faire and have a fucking amazing time. It's a much, much needed de-stresser.

I am sick immediately after Renn Faire, praying it's not Covid the entire time. (It wasn't -- it was from the mold and dust).

I try my best to celebrate my birthday week.

I have a flat tire.

My spare is flat.

My mother reaches out to me via my work email. It's gaslighting, it's manipulative, and it's trying to get me to open back contact. I delete the message and go to my administration to let them know to please give any gifts that come for me to the front office staff.

I speak to IT about how to block my mother's email.

I am horrifically retraumatized and embarrassed by all of this. The nightmares this month were horrible.

I have a flat tire still. It takes four days to fix said flat tire.

We have a timed mental breakdown at work, because we cannot spend more than 2 minutes crying, we have students coming to class.

Right after this, we need to replace my partner's brakes.

Right after this, we need to work out my partner's tire-light being fucked. By now, the people at Mr. Tire know us on sight.

There is an infestation of mosquitoes at my house. At my basement apartment AND my house. I am dying nightly from mosquito bite allergy. I double dose medications to combat it.

I called insurance and did adult things, the first big thing I felt that was praiseworthy in months.

Have to unfollow a LOT of people due to ridiculous amounts of antisemitism.

Our landlords awkwardly ask when we'll be moving out. We let them know an update on our progress on fixing up the house, with plastering going slower than we'd hoped. They drop on us that they want us out by Thanksgiving. We are given a month of warning.

OCTOBER HELL

Every single waking moment is now moving our things from our basement apartment into our house, and trying desperately to finish plastering before we move in.

My physical health starts failing because I'm breathing in dust, mold, plaster, and other hazardous materials, because we no longer have the luxury of time to be safe.

My therapist tells me I need to take off days in October because, and I quote, "I don't think you'll survive until the end of the month." I respond back that I can't, because if I take off, I will be in a worse position at work, which will make me kill myself. He agrees to compromise with me and I'll take time off in November.

I split a new alter due to the severe stress I am experiencing. I now am up to 15 parts.

The discourse server is going poorly because one of the users seems to think I accused them of Heinous Horrible Things. This did not happen. They leave the server and vaguepost about me and block me on every single blog I have. Impressive!

Other than that, the discourse server is my friends, I love them a lot and we talk about a lot of stuff beyond discourse. It's nice.

I start getting chronic migraines.

I start a bracket blog. Because I need to cope. Poorly.

Somewhere this month, my cat catches a mouse. I don't remember when. It's a stressful day. It takes 2 hours to catch the mouse.

I tell my supervisors, when they ask me how I'm doing, that I have to take mandatory mental health leave because of the god awful curriculum they've given us to implement. I spit their words back at them. They are... shocked, to say the least. I don't care. What will they do, fire me?

We hire a moving van. It is not in the place it should be. We go to three other locations to find our moving van. It costs double what it should've.

We move things into our house. It is very upsetting, because the house is not done. It takes us all day. Not everything is moved yet.

Discourse picks up. It's very upsetting. My friends are nice though.

NOVEMBER

Our landlords ask my fiance's mom if they can borrow her van to move our things into our house. As in, without consulting us. I experience homicidal rage over this that I work to quell.

Nothing gets easier.

I start NaNo. It is the only thing bringing me joy. We have no internet at home, so I start going to the library.

Library also brings me joy. Things are looking up.

I take off the 6th and 7th for mental health.

Election(tm)

At 9:30am, my fiance's mom shows up on the 6th to move more things into the house. She stays until 5pm. I do not get a mental health break. I get to clean my house. I break down three times, sobbing, begging audibly for the world to give me SOMETHING.

Our internet cables were cut so we won't have internet for a week or so longer.

Remember that person I mentioned who dropped a callout post? Yeah, well, they're now PISSED that my friend allowed me to call them out for it, as well as some other stuff my friend did. So now they are harassing me and my friend and posting slander about us.

My partner's laptop screen completely broke for no apparent reason, and mine is making a HORRIFIC sound suddenly.

So, in short

That isn't even fucking everything!!! That's just the shit I COULD REMEMBER. I didn't include my therapist switching offices and the anxiety that brought, or the paranoia, or the nightmare I had last night that brought back MORE TRAUMA.

I HAVE BEEN GOING THROUGH HELL YALL.

Posting this chapter, to me, is a sign. It's a sign of things getting better. GOD I need it to get better.

The next chapter is already 3k words long. I'm hoping to churn out more soon. But thank you so much for your patience while we went through... all that.

I love you all.

Thank you <3

[mcalhenwrites]

Personal update, because... I don't know how things are going to go. I don't know when I'll update things. I don't know when I'll sleep properly and get any writing done. This hit when I was having a bit of a lapse in mental health, and I was discouraged about writing (but trying to keep myself from being pulled under!). I spent about 30 minutes pacing around my bathroom since it's further inside the building, trying to figure out if we were in the path of another tornado while the sirens blared. We were not. My town didn't get hit this time, like it did two weeks ago. Anyway. Two hours later, I'm face to face with a bed bug for the first time, and that fucked me up.

I broke down crying in a panic when I realized what it was and what it might meant for us. We're still searching through belongings because guess how much stuff we own? A LOT! (Someone advised me to go through each of my hundreds of books, page by page, to look for any hidden in them. I'm going to die.) But so far, it has only been the one. I haven't been mentally well. We're not rich over here, money is tight for my roommate and they're paying for all the bills. I just try to keep the place moderately clean, cook a few meals, and write my stories and hope they might sell a bit so I can make a little money to help out. I have been job searching and put in an application to one job that would've worked well for my disabilities, but I didn't get the job. I'm still waiting another month until my appointment to see a specialist about one of my severe health issues. One that can be treated and dealt with! But it's pretty bad! Things have been awful. Like seriously, I cannot catch a break. I don't know how to find the spoons I barely have to do all the work that needs done. I wanted to make progress on Seasons - and I still will, but I don't know how much this will slow that down - and I plan to finish up all those short stories for Geckos so I can publish them together. Geckos isn't really selling, but I am grateful it has sold a few copies. The apartment manager is aware of our situation. My library books are in gallon ziplocs to return in person Thursday and notify them that they might want to treat them or hold them back until they're certain they're safe for circulation again. Can't hurt. I just don't want anyone else to deal with this. I vacuumed this morning but I'm so sore and I can't sleep... tomorrow we are going to buy some things to help deal with this, like storage containers and bags and covers and whatnot. Seeing a lot of people mention steamers. I don't know how to live with this. Scabies during the beginning of covid was bad enough. Scabies being immediately followed by a fucking brown recluse bite that got badly infected and required me seeing a surgeon REALLY fucking sucked. Brown recluse infestatinos are awful! We left our shit apartment and broke lease to move here. It was decently good. Not the perfect place, but y'know. So seeing a bed bug in a building that's only about 2 years old... I worry we have neighbors who are dealing with it and won't say anything. It's a concern. I really don't want to live like this. The problem is I don't want to live at all now, because nothing ever lets up. My roommate is worried about me, so I have agreed this week to do some calling around for psychological help, but I am afraid to go to urgent care and pass along little fucking hell creatures. I'm afraid I might GET MORE OF THEM. Also, the one time I was in a psychiatric hospital was so bad, I had nightmares consistently about having to go back to one for over a year. I still get them sometimes. But I'm feeling suicidal in a "I can't deal with bed bugs" kind of way. I need help. I don't know how to get it. I'm mad that there are millions of other people in this same state. Why is our fucking country so into weapons and selling them to countries that blow up innocent people and starve them to death, so into guns it's appalling, but like... developing new antibiotics and housing people and looking for ways to take care of bed bugs? Nah. Why do that? Fuck the little people I guess.

[iturmom]

i'm not in a situation where i can be healthy. i'm in a situation that i don't think i can survive. i'm living in constant fear and terror. it doesn't help that i cannot get my needs met and there is no platform for me to ask for my needs in a way that suits me. my friend showed me like this reddit donation masterpost but it's just not something i can feasibly do now. especially since to satisfy any of my needs at all i have to wait. for like an hour. often i need to fucking walk all the way to the hospital just to use the bathroom because it's an emergency and there's a line for like an hour to get inside. with 50lbs on my back in the hot sun. god i'm so fucking tired i napped on the dirt outside this morning and i've always kinda wanted to do that it was kinda nice but in such a hopeless situation. when i woke up i had to use the bathroom. i was hungry. i haven't even showered in two days and i've described all the backbreaking physical labor i've been forced to do. the sun. the sweating. everything is impossible here and it's impossible for me to deal with because i have intense trauma and if i can't meet my needs i just have to accept that it's because i deserve it it's easier that way.

i'm in a completely miserable situation. i'm not safe. i'm not healthy. i'm not well. i need too much and you all cannot do it. i hate to be a burden. i hate to need help because there's never any help available. i have been pleading my case. i don't deserve this. but i'm all alone and there's not much help and i'm falling apart. i want to be a source of happiness for people but all i can offer is misery. because i'm drowning. i can't fucking do anything i can't function like this they're breaking me.

i don't think i can just cut out tumblr like it's so pathetic but i can't this is the only contact i get with the outside world. i want friends. i want to meet people and talk to people. share things i didn't share much but i try. i want to spread joy but i want too much. i can't give anything. i'm damaged goods. i'm fucked. that's why i'm serious when i suggest anyone unfollow me for their mental health i'm not okay. these things are silly an unfollow just means their not on your dadh anymore. it's for your own good i don't give a shit about that i want real friends 😞 i want people around bc they like me not bc pity or bc obligation. i hate thinking about stuff like this. i look at my follows bc i'm trying to gauge who's sick of my shit. i'm sick of it but i'm so sick mentally and it's agitated by this needless extra stress. extreme stress

and i'm pitiful. i am. and my future is bleak. my present is bleak. it's torture. i'm living in hell.

i don't know. anything. i'm sorry i brought this shit to tumblr but i mean if i had just hidden this from tumblr i probably would have just stopped using tumblr. or i'd have had a breakdown anyway maybe it was inevitable.

also i'm so fucking trapped in my own hell i can't see anything else and everything is confusing. the world is burning. and i can only see my own hell. i'm only focused on my own problems because they are huge and constant and life draining. a lot of people vent on tumblr but when i get really desperate i just hope that i can cry out my needs and something might happen. i'm too desperate. tho.

it's too much. i'm sorry. 😭

[love-toxin]

ok i CANNOT believe they made leon a nepo baby r u fr......anyways i finished it & wow. if u like resident evil? don't know anything about it yet? just play the games...I'm begging u....its an ok time-killer but good LORD that movie was bad. unforgivably bad.

(yes....im going to rant my critiques below. spoilers!!)

why think you can cram 2 1/2 games into a not even 2hr movie? why cross timelines & plot structures when they're (clearly) not well understood by the writers? why is the dialogue so stilted & awkward? why are u confusing clever, cheeky humour that exists to break tension with totally awful b-movie action lines? why is the cgi so overused & terrible in all the wrong places? why does jill wanna fuck wesker? why is everyone in rc running around with perfectly manicured & coloured nails?? why are u taking awful evils & villain characters that act as foils to the protagonists & trying to make them palatable victims & good guys?? why are u butchering perfectly good protagonist characterizations & backstories?? why add a 4 minute scene of total darkness & intermittent flashing where i can't even see what the hell is going on?? if you were going to cross games, why use the 2 games (re1 & re2) that take place a month apart & not the two (re2 & re3) that happen on the SAME NIGHT?? IN THE SAME PLACE??¿¿

and perhaps worst of all for me personally, WHY take a refreshingly heroic, naive, & selfless male protagonist with strong values & kindness and make a mockery of it all??¿¿ the other stuff is imo just products of bad storytelling, organization, & budget, but leon's place in this particular movie just sincerely irritates me. the actor didn't do a bad job either (imo, esp compared to some other actor picks) & the way he's set up to intentionally be a punching bag just bugs me. he's portrayed as kind of useless & the other protagonists (chris & jill mostly) end up taking over his roles to reinforce the redundancy ig the writers wanted for him. BOO!!! TOMATOES!!! ik it's a funny haha movie but the dumbing down of genuinely good characters into love interests & idiots, esp strong female & sensitive male ones, (ie. jill, leon, & to an extent claire) in this day & age is simply disappointing. JAIL!! jail for 1000 years!!!!!!

honestly i totally forgot that they made an re2 live action movie until just recently & while im not....a fan, so to speak, of the movie's overall quality so far....the exaggerated & inherent patheticism of their leon casting....well, he's starting to grow on me 🥺💦

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch. 9

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

'I’ll see you later', she said.

But 'later' never comes.

After the days that have passed, it doesn’t look like it will, either. Your schedule is changed to working the day shift, permanently. When you ask about the change, the Grand Chambermaid tells you it is a direct order from Lady Alcina.

A few months ago, you would consider it a gift from heaven. The morning shift is absolutely safe and maids trip over themselves in happiness to get it for however long. It means the daughters are asleep and the halls are quiet; that there is no danger of blood drawn over the slightest misstep.

But you are not happy. If anything, it feels like there is a thorn lodged in the back of your throat, hurting you from within.

Keep your head down. Do your job. Map every nook and cranny of the castle. You repeat the same words to yourself to give you a driving force, a sense of purpose… yet it is not escaping that your mind reels right back to.

It’s her.

It’s the way she would pop out of nowhere, going “rah!” just to get your blood pumping, then break into little giggles before gluing her body to yours, to bask in your warmth. The way she would fidget when she couldn’t keep still. Her quiet laughs when something genuinely amused her. Her cool touch. Her voice. Her breathy gasps and hooded eyes in the dark above you.

The time you despised Cassandra seems so distant now it may as well have been a different life. She is —perhaps always will be— many things you should detest. But she hasn’t been any of them around you for so long.

The initial cuts on you turned to scratches, then to simply the drag of her dark-painted nails over your skin. She stopped terrorizing the other maids. Her time in the dungeons below the castle diminished.

There were times when you were laying in bed together that you even considered the playful girl there with you had the potential be someone you could see yourself love.

From what you hear some of the maids whisper… that girl is no more.

At first, you don’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

Until you see one of the girls —Valia, if memory serves—downing one painkiller after the other and clutching at her bandaged chest during breakfast. And you make the mistake of asking what happened.

“This is all your fault!” she snaps and swings her hand to hit you, but you stop her and pin the limb down, rattling the table.

All eyes in the room shift to you.

“Calm yourself.” you warn her.

“She wasn’t like this before! What did you do to displease her and have her take it out on us, huh?!” she demands, tears in her eyes.

Then you understand. Cassandra did this to her.

As the older maids come to separate you, taking her away and trying to soothe her, you find your appetite is gone. You take your leave from the room and get to work an hour earlier than you’re supposed to.

It isn’t easy when every glance at a window reminds you of her scream, or when every flying insect that enters your peripheral brings forth the image of her body breaking apart from the cold.

-

-

You don’t notice how long you’ve been working for, until your surroundings are positively bathed in shadows. When you look out the nearest window, the sun is nowhere to be found in the sky.

Oh, no. You start to stress. You should have left ages ago.

Hurried steps take you through hallways you know the daughters don’t frequent as much. It is the long way around to your room, but distance is the least of your worries.

A familiar laugh from the other end of the corridor sends every attempt to calm your nerves right into the trash.

You are suddenly overcome with the urge to say her name, to see her, to make sure she’s alright so you can erase the image of her form crumbling from your mind.

But.

There is a reason Alcina had you working the day shift. And Cassandra would have come to see you if she wanted to. It’s not a pretty thought, but reality usually isn’t. You’ve come to terms with that from a very young age.

So you bite your tongue and keep walking, eyes fixed on the carpet. Part of you is relieved to hear Daniela’s giggle follow her sister’s voice. Cassandra can focus on her and pass you by like she does the decorations around –which, considering the past days, is probably all you were worth to her, anyway.

The distance between you gradually diminishes…

You’ve almost passed her by when Cassandra stops. At least you know her well enough to brace for it.

The next instant, nails are digging through the skin of your biceps and your back is pinned, hard, against the wall. You gasp but you’re too proud to cry out. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“I thought mother had you working during the day.”

There’s ice in her voice as she says it, though her eyes have a strange look about them you’d almost describe as melancholy. You know how they light up at the prospect of hunting and killing. This isn’t it.

“Forgive me, Lady Cassandra. I lost track of time.” you reply back. An accusation you can't quite erase is adrift somewhere in your tone.

Her lips twist. She rips your shirt and opens bleeding cuts on your flesh with how harshly her nails pull out of you. The force shoves you sideways, into the faint alcove of a shut window.

Her hand comes to your nape and traps your head there. You can feel her entertain the idea to squeeze harder. Perhaps hurt you enough for everything that ever was between you to completely die. And still your body, the worst traitor of all, welcomes the feel of her breath by your ear when she leans in.

“How come you haven’t used it yet?” she asks. “You know our weakness now, Alexia.”

And she’s right, isn’t she.

How come you haven’t used it to escape? You know it’s below zero degrees outside. Certainly, you could make up an excuse to yourself about the winged monsters lurking around the castle or that you may not make it to the village with that much snow. But that’s all these are. Excuses.

“Come on, the window is right here.” Cassandra hisses and forces your hand to wrap around the handle. “Open it.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Daniela take tiny steps to the side, to avoid the blast of cold should you indeed decide you want them to feel what you feel. “Uhh… Cassandra…?” she says, quietly.

And suddenly you see red for reasons that have nothing to do with the sharp fucking sting on your arms. You can’t contain the anger that bursts out of you like lava from a volcano—

You jerk back with all your strength, actually managing to move her a step away.

“Maybe you get off on it but I sure as hell don’t hurt the people I care about!” Even when they don’t care back.

You’re certainly no stranger to the feeling.

Cassandra freezes up. Daniela’s eyes flit between the two of you like she’s debating calling out for either Bela or her mother for help, before the storm brewing in the air really fucks something up.

Cassandra’s hand shoots forward and closes, tight, around your throat. She presses close, close enough for you to feel the phantom caress of her mouth over yours as she speaks;

“If you don’t want to hurt me, make sure I don’t see you again. Because if bleeding you out is the only way I can be with you… I may take that deal.” Her fingers tremble on your jugular.

Then she’s gone, dragging her sister along with her. You can’t breathe any easier even without her cutting off your airway.

“…so…. does this mean I can have Alexia now?” Daniela’s voice faintly reaches your ears from down the corridor.

Cassandra only grabs her by the nape and pushes her into one of the rooms in response.

-

-

Crimson-red travels down your body along with the waterdrops and rolls around the drain in hypnotic swirls. The cuts on your arms would hurt if your heart wasn’t already in pieces.

But who is there but yourself to blame? You knew what you were getting into was no wise idea. You knew you were fucked when it stopped being about your survival. You knew. Yet you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more with her.

And now every single one of your issues and insecurities rises up like a tsunami ready to sweep you with its force and crush you amidst the wreckage.

It seems to be an inescapable curse in your life that everyone you care for leaves you in shambles, one way or another.

It started with your father, when he abandoned you and your mother for a wealthy woman, never to return. Continued with her bringing you to this superstitious, shitty village and soon after leaving you due to an illness. The first girl you fell for fled one night without telling you a single thing. Only a half-assed letter was dropped behind for you.

And now Cassandra discards you, as well, like a broken toy she cannot stand to see yet stubbornly refuses to let go of. You are left bleeding inside and outside, feeling more and more like how she used to call you;

A plaything.

The word never quite bothered you, but now it makes something inside you boil.

Like everyone else, Cassandra has left.

So why should you be the one to stay?

[doc-pickles]

all roads they lead me here

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong

This is the last time I say it's been you all along

This is the last time I let you in my door

This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore

“Hey it’s Alex, leave me a message or whatever.”

“Alex, it's Jo. I just talked to your mom because you weren’t answering my calls and she said she hasn’t seen you or heard from you in awhile. So… please call me back. I just need to know you’re okay. I love you.”

“It’s me. It’s just been… A really long day and all I really want to do is curl up in bed with you. But you’re not here and you’re not in Iowa and I’m starting to worry that you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. Anyways I love you, please call me back.”

“Hi, it’s me again. Jo, you know your wife? The woman you married? I just… I’m worried about you and the longer I don’t hear from you the more worried I get. So please just call me back. I love you.”

“Alex, please pick up the phone. I don’t care where you are or what you’ve been doing. I don’t care if you’ve… committed murder or something. I don’t know, I just… I need you to answer me. If you’re not coming home I need to know so please just stop my wondering and answer me. Please. I love you, call me back.”

Alex sighed as he listened to the plethora of voicemails that Jo had left for him, her voice sounding more desperate the more messages she left. He wanted to call her, to answer one of her phone calls but he didn’t think it was fair to her. How was he supposed to drag her away from Seattle and everyone they loved to come to the middle of nowhere? How could he ask her to make that sacrifice when he was struggling to accept it himself?

As if hearing his thoughts, his phone screen lit up with a photo of Jo and him on their wedding day. Despite his doubts and worries Alex punched the green accept button and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Alex? Is that you?”

He only hesitates for a moment before letting out a sigh and answering, “Yeah it’s me.”

The relieved sigh and barely concealed tears break his heart as he listens to Jo on the other line. This was why he couldn’t go back, why he couldn’t face Jo again. Just hearing her on the other end of the phone was breaking his heart, he knew if he stood across from her and told her the choice he’d made that he would never be able to walk away.

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead,” Jo’s voice rang across the line, cries punctuating her words as she spoke a mile a minute. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt or in trouble or anything are you?”

“No… No, I'm okay. I’m fine I promise.”

“Good then where the hell are you,” Jo’s voice went from worried to stern in a flash, her tone almost scaring Alex as he listened to her. “I haven’t seen you in a month and a half and no one has been able to contact you for almost three weeks now. I thought you were lying in a coma somewhere so you better have a damn good reason as to why you haven’t been answering your phone.”

Of course she was angry, she had every right to be. If Alex were in Jo’s shoes he would’ve lost his mind trying to figure out where she was. But he wasn’t, instead he was lying in a hotel room thousands of miles away from Seattle keeping a huge secret from his wife who he normally told everything to. Alex let his eyes roam to the crisp white envelope on the bedside table next to him, Jo’s name in large letters across the front of it.

“It’s a long story, Jo.”

“Well start talking then Alex. I have been losing my mind here and I deserve an explanation,” Jo paused for a moment, her voice coming back clear and resolute when she spoke again. “If you’re leaving us, if you’re not coming home I need you to say it. I can’t keep sitting here playing back everything I’ve done trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“Jo you haven’t done anything wrong, you could never,” Alex is quick to stop the destructive thoughts he knows are swirling around in Jo’s head. A deep pang of guilt hits him as he realizes that his lack of communication has probably torn her apart. “I’m just trying to figure some things out and… that might mean I don’t come back to Seattle.”

The line is silent and for a long moment Alex almost thinks that she’s hung up on him. Finally Jo speaks again, “You're telling me I didn’t do anything wrong but you’re not coming home? I don’t get it. Can you just tell me what's really happening?”

“I have kids.”

“I was going to-“

“With Izzie. She used the embryos and she has twins. We have twins,”

The all consuming silence from the other end of the line surrounds him once again. This time though, the pause felt like the heaviest thing he’d ever felt, the weight settling on his chest and taking his breath with it as he waited for Jo to respond to him.

“Oh.”

“Jo, I had no idea. I called Izzie before Mer’s trial and I was telling her all about you and then… then I heard them in the background. Alexis was singing some song and Eli was yelling at her to stop and I couldn’t not ask about them,” Alex let out a sigh as he ran a hand across his face. “They’re perfect Jo, god they're… They’re everything, the best of me and the best of Izzie. I have a chance to make this family whole, and I just hope you love me back enough to let me ta-“

“You have a family here too Alex! You have people that are depending on you and waiting for you to come home,” Jo was on the verge of tears and she yelled down the line, her voice trembling as she tried to get her point across. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or answer your phone? God Alex I love you but sometimes you can be so stupid. I’m looking up flights now, I can get there tomorrow afternoon.”

“No babe, I don’t need you to come out here.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do! Because I’ve been sitting at home for the last month and a half waiting for you to come home and that didn’t do anything.”

Alex let out a sigh, his shoulders falling as he leaned back against the headboard of his hotel bed, “Jo I’m sorry but I have kids and I need to be here for them. I’ve already missed five years of their lives, I don’t want to miss anymore.”

“Then let me come out there Alex! If you’re planning on staying why won’t you let me come out,” the next pause that comes is from Alex as Jo let’s his silence answer her questions. “You really weren’t planning on coming back to me, were you?”

“Jo, please-“

“No Alex! You don’t just choose to end things without asking me! It's like the past seven years have meant nothing to you,” a steadying breath sounded over the line, Alex’s heart beating out of time as he listened to Jo. “You cannot just leave us here like garbage Alex. I deserve more than that, we deserve more than that! So either you come home or…. Fuck! I don’t know. Alex please.”

Alex thinks he can almost tangibly feel his heart breaking in two as Jo cries out to him. He loves her, more than anything he thinks, but he has children and their faces pop into his mind every second of the day now. He can’t fathom leaving them after already missing so much of their lives.

“Were you even planning on coming back home? Or were you just going to ignore my calls until I got the hint.”

“I didn't know she would have my kids, and now that she does, I don't know how to look anyone in the eye if I don't stay and do everything I can to make this work, make this a life, make this a family,” Alex’s pauses to catch his breath, listening to Jo’s cries. “I never meant to hurt you Jo-“

“Then you should’ve told me! You knew for weeks before you left and you didn’t say anything. You just kissed me and laughed at my jokes and ate dinner across from me crawled into bed next to me and made love to me like nothing was wrong. But the whole time you were just counting down the days until you left without another word,” her breaths are unsteady now, Jo hyperventilating on the other end of the phone in a way that makes Alex want to forget everything he’s seen in Kansas. “I can’t breathe, I can’t do this Alex. If you’re leaving us just say it. Please.”

“Jo, I’m sorry-“

“Just say it!”

“I wish getting everything I always wanted didn't have to hurt you in the process. But I can't lie to you. And I can't come home,” Alex is forcing the words out, barely able to say them without bursting into tears himself. “I'm not coming home, Jo. I can't face you. I can't look you in the eye because I wouldn't be able to walk away.”

“And that doesn’t mean anything to you? Everything we worked for, every uphill battle we fought to be together means nothing now? Did you ever think I would go with you, no questions asked,” Jo takes a deep breath before finishing. “I get that you have kids in Kansas, but you have a family here too Alex and we’ve been here for years, we’re always going to be here waiting and wondering and… I have to go. I love you and I’m sorry we weren’t enough.”

The line finally drops silent and Alex lets the tears he’d been holding back fall. He thinks he’s making the right choice, being there for his kids and giving them what he and Jo never had as children. But the pain and aching in his heart make him second guess his decision, if only for a moment.

-

It’s two days after his phone call with Jo when Alex realizes that he might have royally screwed everything up. His eyes follow Eli and Alexis around the farmyard as Izzie tells him about their life.

“We were actually in Tacoma before moving out to Kansas. Well, really it was just me but I was already four months pregnant by the time I decided to move,” Izzie let a chuckle out as Alex’s brain began to work overtime. “Somehow we made it though, I swear those two have been keeping me on my toes since they were in the womb.”

Alex ran back Jo’s words from their conversation in slow motion. He had played them over and over again in his head since she’d hung up on him but now he realized they might have a new meaning.

“If you’re leaving us, if you’re not coming home I need you to say it.”

“You have a family here too Alex!”

“You cannot just leave us here like garbage Alex. I deserve more than that, we deserve more than that!”

“We’re always going to be here waiting and wondering.”

“I love you and I’m sorry we weren’t enough.”

Sure she might have meant Meredith and her kids and the family he’d found for himself in Seattle but Alex knew Jo better than that.

“You know what I mean,” Izzie’s voice snapped Alex out of his daze, his eyes glassy as he looked from his hands to the blonde next to him. “You okay?”

“I uh… I think my wife is pregnant.”

+

It’s nearly 10 PM when a knock sounds on the loft door. Jo almost doesn’t get up from her spot on the couch as her fatigued body sinks into the cushions, reasoning with herself that anyone of importance has a key. When there’s another knock however, she begrudgingly drags herself up to slide the metal door open.

“Oh my god…”

Standing in front of her is Alex, eyes tired and hair damp from the near constant downpour of Seattle rain. She tries to ignore the suitcase at his feet, not wanting to get her hopes up when they’d already been so crushed just a week before when she’d spoken to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I walked away from you and from all of this,” Alex runs a hand through his hair, his gaze floating to the ceiling as he struggles to keep his composure. “I want to be here Jo, you mean everything to me.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to let you back in when I know you were about to leave me without a word,” she’s begging herself not to cry right now, she’s done enough of that in the past week. But her stupid hormones bring tears to her eyes that she tries unsuccessfully to blink away. “Alex, you were ready to walk away from everything we’ve built without so much as a goodbye!”

“I know but-“

“But what?! Izzie sent you back home? Your conscience suddenly crawled back into your body after taking a two month vacation,” Jo’s voice rises as she stares Alex down. “What do you think you could possibly say that would make this better?”

Alex takes a step forward and Jo can’t bring herself to step away from him. Her mind is swirling, tears stinging her eyes as she meets his gaze, “Jo, I’m sorry.”

“Well sorry doesn't fix everything Alex.”

There’s a quiet moment between them as they stand mere inches from each other, eyes locked but no words exchanged. Alex does look remorseful, like every decision he had excluded her from is finally weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“I’m not going back to Kansas. Well, I’m not staying there at least,” Jo blinks up at Alex, waiting for him to continue before she says anything else. “I love my kids, god they're perfect, but that’s not where I belong. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that, I’m sorry it took you yelling at me to realize that because it just confirmed that I should’ve talked to you as soon as I found out.”

Alex takes another step forward, his chest almost touching hers as his hand comes up to cradle the curve of her stomach that one of his old shirts had hidden. In the month and a half that he’s been gone Jo’s figure had curved outward significantly, the baby bump now noticeable no matter what she wore. She’s not sure how he’d figured it out, but the simple act breaks the flimsy hold she has on her emotions. Instead of the tears she’d become so used to though, Jo finds herself overwhelmed with anger as she pushes away from Alex.

“If this is why you're back you can turn around and leave again.”

"It's not…. Well it is but it's not the only reason."

"Alex!”

“Just listen please. I'm not back because we're having a baby, I’m back because you being pregnant made me realize how stupid I was being when I decided to move to Kansas. Eli and Alexis... They're amazing, but they were amazing before I got there too. And I don't want to be a dad without you by my side. I want it all with you Jo and I know that might be hard to believe right now but-“

Before Alex finished his statement Jo had launched herself into his arms, tears staining his shirt where she had her face pressed against his chest, "I'm still pissed at you but these stupid hormones all telling me to give you another chance.”

“Thank god, I didn't have a backup plan if you kicked me out again.”

"But,” Jo leaned up and fixed Alex with a serious look. "This is your last chance. If you EVER screw up this badly again…”

“I won't.”

Jo leans back, pressing her lips to Alex’s as she pulled him into the loft, “Welcome home.”

[sunlessea]

angel. what a joke. he watches it with waning vigor, legs thrown over the railing so he can let his hands fall overtop the handles. it's the closest he can get to lounging like this, now with his magician's cape half draped over one shoulder. he crosses his legs, frowning. it won't be leaving any time soon, he has the inclination of believing, and that's a real pity. he'd love to go back to just being alone, closed off in his house, never having to talk to anyone again. it's pathetic, but his chest is starting to hurt. this is why he'd closed himself away from london's populace. he's just... so tired of talking, and dealing with other people. he's almost frustrated enough to cry, and the only reason he doesn't is because it would take too much effort, being what he is now. he misses being kine. not that his humanity hadn't been stolen from him young.

"yeah. that's one way of putting it. but you people always do. the giovanni are nothing if not theatric assholes. i'd know." he wants to jump off the bannister and disappear. he can't, but he thinks about it. if he were so eager to die, he'd have just killed himself instead of coming to london. no matter how exhausting this all is. "my blood begins and ends with you. my entire life and worth has revolved around the gift you imparted upon me, against my will, and now i will spend all of eternity mourning how fucked 'you and yours' have left me. london will hide me forever, one way or another, whether i'm in its streets or buried under it. i'm not a giovanni anymore, i'm a caitiff. i'd rather be nothing than be yours, and i'd rather kill myself than go back to scotland. do you understand?"

he knows there's some truth to its ramble, and lies to his own. but knowing doesn't mean he'll admit it. if london is to be his grave, so be it. he watches it as it ascends the stairs to come towards him, expressionless and tense. he could run again, there's nothing stopping him. but he doesn't have a choice but to see where this goes. it's in his home. where else could he even hide?

"how long..." he stares at it, brow perking in poorly contained annoyance at its picking apart of his demeanor, but he only flinches when it grabs him. he stops himself before reaching up to hit it, if only because he isn't stupid enough to raise hand to a master of the bazaar ... but if it had been anyone else! he glares at it, yanking his arms still from its grasp before it can drop them proper. what a rude bat! "small? i'm a professional gymnast, you dick. i was doing handsprings when i was an eight year old boy." he crosses his arms even as it still holds him, huffing. all he can really do is kick his legs and pout, but that's a bit too childish for him, so he settles for looking away and staring at some far off speck of gold on a wall in the distance. "and i'm thirty-two. i was embraced about a year ago. a little over." he glares a bit longer then gestures 'tween them. "i cannot stress enough that i left the night after they turned me. but i thought you knew that about me? didn't you come here because you know about me?"

of course, he doesn't answer in regards to its questions on his hunting, letting it trail off into silence for favor of keeping what secrets he evidently can. he doesn't want to talk about it, anyways. instead, he focuses harder on the wall, feeling his mind drift where its hands take his own. he could be stone, how uncomfortable he feels in its embrace. he's never sat straighter, hands balled into fists, focusing unnaturally hard on anything but its weight against his back. they aren't related, he reminds himself. this isn't his family.

"you haven't been on the surface for over two thousand years?" he breaks his daze finally to turn and look at it, half in shock and half in disgust. the roman empire... it's got to be fucking kidding him. he could cry. what the hell have all the giovanni been doing all this time?! "it's nineteen-fifty up there now! we're driving cars and flying airplanes now and you haven't visited the surface since the age of rome? christ!" it releases its hold just in time for him to jump up, crouching onto the bannister for a moment so he could throw himself around to face it. and when he does, his desperation breaks.

"i'm so glad for you! how wonderful the giovanni of your time must have been! unfortunately, i was born in the modern era and i had to grow up in the gaping hell that your bloodline made of itself! do you know what it's like to be born into the giovanni bloodline, mr shrouds? the things i grew up enduring, being coerced into ... thirty years of my life spent being betrayed by the only people who could have protected me. you're right. you don't know what they did to me! if i needed protection, it was then. it's not now. no one has ever shielded me from the cruelties of this world, aside from myself." his throat and chest do burn. he doesn't want blood on his face, though, so he swallows, hard, though it does little for a man who isn't alive. "you masters collect love stories, yes? stick to that. i am not a heart for your collection. mine is already broken." he inhales, deeply, then turns on his heels and continues up the stairs, dramatically attempting to shake off his trembling hands. he has an inkling, even now, that it will follow. were it so easy to truly turn invisible and disappear. quothe, to its credit, follows from the ground at least, and flies above him as he walks. "some days i wish i'd given up. it just never ends ... all i've ever wanted was to be free, and now here you are. what do you want from me? i'm just a fledgling, mr shrouds. whatever you're hoping for from the giovanni, it won't be from me. i'm a nobody, less than. i'm just trying to live before the family catches up with me, and i have suffered enough to deserve that much."

oh, dear ... it really has its work cut out for it—suppose it would, given how prolonged its absence; that isn't what has it pouting, fangs catching the inside of its puffed out cheeks, nor is it fault of one rather unruly childe. rather, its the subtle ache that thrums just behind its ribs : what would be its heart, it figures, were it possible for it to beat beyond their dark magick—the strikingly gentle tug 'gainst its metaphorical heartstrings, or heartache, or pity ... it feels all three so sparingly, that easy is it to confuse one for the other, and now it can't seem to tell which is which when it has to glance up to look at him proper. ( even that, is slight. its form is hard to miss, and harder still is it to avoid it entirely, but it does not have the energy to join in on fledgling games, and so it indulges unwillingly where it returns its arms to cross, propping its head 'gainst its palm, finger tapping idly against its cheek. )

" i am not trying to scare you, angel. " what more can it do, but soften its voice, where its edges are too sharp to bear? its ears are drooping, truly a pitiable sight the two of them make : then is it a mercy that he is the only one that would ever see it, this particular manifestation of its misery. it almost seems hesitant, the way it pauses 'tween false-breaths drawn in, breathed out, moving to chew on its own lip in frustration. " perhaps i have come off eh ... too strong? " it only shifts the hand at its cheek to gesture, waving circles mid-air 'fore it returns to its place, restless. " if that is the case, you have my sincerest apologies. " its complicated, all of this. where it shines is in written word, prose, legal jargon that'd bore the average neathizen half to death, it struggles so with sincerity. perhaps, in what little hope it can find, the way its expression contorts to something almost anxious is enough to prove that it is trying. ugly might it look, with its features all scrunched up. " we have done nothing of the sort to harm you and yours, assured is your safety even without my aid. to whatever extent our city can provide, but london cannot hide you forever. "

it's had enough playing this game. if only it could sigh any louder, alas, all it can muster is brushing its hair free from its eyes, ear flicking irritably as it draws closer, climbing to retake the distance between them. cat and weasel. " thus, i am here. you need my help, little lamb, whether you know it or not. how long have you been afflicted so? you look ... " it is 'cross him in no time, arms encircling him from behind where it raises his arms and drops them again in favor of prodding at his sides, lips pursed in curiosity. " ...small. fresh. but that could be anywhere yet from a hundred to your first thousand. are you eating well? how do you hunt? " he at least appears to have a healthy sort of pallor ... and clearly he is managing well in terms of energy, it cannot see any odd-color in his eyes, however long he allows it steal a glance.

" cherub, you must understand, i do not mean to lead you astray, like your elders and theirs have done you. i have not set foot 'pon surface soil in ... ah, we were not even giovanni. we were some other name, it has been so long, i hardly even remember. " from anguish to outright sorrow, it could only look more distressed if it cried to match the way each word quivers. but it has not lit a candle, and it is pointless to stain its good suit—it just has to will its hands not to shake, where it reaches for his own where it settles 'gainst his back, cheek pressed against the square of it as it starts to reminiscence with a hum. " rome? yes, we were in rome. an emperor rose from the ashes of some great war, i believe we were still seeking negotiations ... ah—i am getting off topic... " just how long could that have been, it wonders; certainly a few cities worth, but it finds the memory hazy at its best, much to its own frustration where it finally releases its hold on him, gesturing wildly as it tries to collect its thoughts. from question to accusation, its sullen demeanor gives 'way entirely for something more frantic, desperate, something ... afraid? " none of my childer were anything like your prince suggests! they were certainly not from the same brood, and their childe were not either. so i have not the faintest idea where or what or who suggested the idea! "

it is of no question, its sure, that it looks every bit insane as he claims their lot to be. with how its mood shifts from wrathful to gloomy to desperate, as it stands now, it must be. but that fact doesn't seem to bother it, where its hands clasp in front of it in mock prayer, head bowed in plea. " please. i do not know what they have done to you. but i am not a part of them. " tighter, its hands clench, where it finally opens one eye to peek out towards him. however it is meant to show its sincerity, it doesn't know, but god willing—it is trying. " please—let me help you. i do not wish to beg, but i will if needs must. "

[voidstilesplease]

By the Angel, TALK

Warning: THIS IS AN ANTI-CLARY AND JACE SPOILER RANT because I need an avenue to let out some of the steam I've been holding off since starting City of Fallen Angels. So PLEASE SKIP AHEAD because I don't want to burden you all with my reading woes.

This thing centers on the beginning of Chapter 9: From Fire Unto Fire and a little bit of Chapter 8. About eight pages of bad, bad romance set me off.

To start,

The rest is under the cut, so you can go away now.

So, what's been happening to Clary and Jace thus far?

This book introduced them now as an official couple, picking up from the end of TMI Book 3: City of Glass. I don't remember their every scene since then to the point in Chapter 9 where I stopped, but basically, they're having relationship issues early on. They're less than two months into their relationship, and the drama is too frickin much. 

Jace has these weird dreams about murdering Clary and waking up guilty about his subconscious thoughts, so he goes angsting about it and avoiding her, snapping at her, being a total dick, and still question why people think they are on the brink of a break-up. 

So, Jace goes with Simon in the next few scenes, in his plight to get away from her as far as possible, yet still be somehow close by being around Clary's best friend to "protect" him, so his distant behavior will be reasonable and forgivable. Yeah, make that make sense. 🙄 But of course, one way or another, they're going to have to get to the confrontation part (that I still wish had been equivalent to an actual break-up), and so that's when Chapter 8 & 9 enters.

Chapter 8: Walk in Darkness pp. 185-186

Almost instantly, the light went out of them, and the remaining color drained out of his face. "I thought --- Simon said you weren't coming." ¹

[...] "So you only came because you thought I wouldn't be here? [...] Were you ever planning on talking to me again? [...] If you're going to break it off, the least you could do is tell me, not just stop talking to me and leave me to figure it out on my own."

"Why does everyone keep goddamn asking me if I'm going to break up with you? [...]²

First, what an asshole?! 

[1] So Jace finally in-your-face's Clary and confirms that he has been keeping his distance like Clary has the plague. He then has the audacity to [2] be annoyed for being questioned on his intentions of keeping the relationship that he has been actively evading for days!

I get that Jace sucks in romantic relationships and has been fucked up by his daddy-issues, but he has the Lightwoods. Heck, Alec is his parabatai. He sees working relationships, so he has to have known that you don't just stop talking to people close to you and have them not question the behavior, whether you're trying to pull away from them or not. Otherwise, then Jace is dumb for all that he's marketed as the "best" Shadowhunter in his age. Screw that.

---

“You talked to Simon about us?" Clary shook her head. "Why? Why aren't you talking to me?"

"Because I can't talk to you," Jace said. "I can't talk to you, I can't be with you, I can't even look at you."³

[3] Way to make a girl feel special, Jace. Oh, no, yeah. He's trying to do the opposite and push her away with some teenage boy angst that doesn't make any sense. Like, who says that, though, aside from dramatic love interests that can't make a better excuse for going emo? 

That line IS TOO DRAMATIC that it hurts, ugh. 🤮

Anyway, so Clary walks out after that. I don't sympathize with her, but I'd do the same. Who wouldn't? Unless you freeze in the ridiculousness of the situation, that is, which is also likely.

Chapter 9: From Fire Unto Fire pp. 190-195

Now, here's the real shit. I want to quote this entire six-page scene back to Cassie and scream at her.

Clary reached the door and burst out into the rain-drenched evening air. [...] and was about to race across the street against the light when a hand caught her arm and spun her around.

It was Jace. [...] "Clary, didn't you hear me calling you?"

"Let go of me." Her voice shook.

"No. Not until you talk to me."⁴

[4] DUDE, what even happened to your I CAN'T TALK TO YOU, I CAN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU speech, huh? Be consistent for once, apart from your douchebag routine. Make up your mind, Jace.

---

Still holding her by the arm, he half-dragged her around the van and into a narrow alley that bordered the Alto Bar. ⁵

[5] Man, I love a bit of rough loving in my literature, but I'm so pissed at you, Jace, don't even. Lay the hell off.

---

"I was going to tell you that I was trying to help out Simon. [...]

"And you couldn't tell me? Couldn't text me a single line letting me know where you were?"⁶ [...]

[...]

"I think," he said slowly, "that I thought that the closest thing to being with you was being with Simon. Watching out for him. I had some stupid idea that you'd realize I was doing it for you and forgive me---"⁷

[6] Addressing the lack of communication, that's a great path to follow. These two need to talk so bad. [7] But this line? Sucks Balls. You could be with her, Jacey, and save all the readers your drama if you only pull your head out of your ass and try to communicate. It's like you're allergic to it.

---

She took a step back, blindly, and nearly tripped over an abandoned speaker. Her bag slid to the ground as she put her hand out to right herself, but Jace was already there. He moved forward to catch her, and kept moving until her back hit the alley wall, and his arms were around her, and he was kissing her frantically.⁸

[8] Not only is this achingly cheesy, but it's also totally not the way they should be going off about their situation. They were already talking -arguing, yes, but they're still using words to reach out, and their relationship absolutely cannot be healthy without them. Thus far, they have spoken so less in comparison with the times they've spent canoodling. They're not solving anything by having drama on one second and getting it on with dramatic kissing on the next.

I don't care what Clary says about being so lost in love with Jace. He's treating her like shit. The least he can do is give her answers that she has the right to demand from him. Kissing is not an answer. But, well, maybe to Clary, it is because the next parts from page 192 to 194 are spent on softcore porn in a dark alley under the frickin rain. I bet that's a very romantic setting in their minds, huh.

---

And now this part:

It was nerve-wracking. She could feel the feverish heat that came off him; her hands were still on his shoulders, but it wasn't enough. She wanted him wrapped around her, holding her tight. "W-why," she breathed. "can't you talk to me? Why can't you look at me?"

He ducked his head down to look into her face. His eyes, surrounded by lashes darkened with rainwater, were impossibly gold.

"Because I love you."⁹

[9] Is that supposed to make me tingle? SET ME ON FIRE, but that is the lousiest I love you in books that I have ever read. AND IT'S THE ONLY ONE THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, at all!

Shut up with this, can you please. It's not romantic at all. It's a dumb excuse and an even dumber love from the two dumbest people in this whole frickin series. Oh my god.

Clary, realistically, will frown at this answer. She will pull the hell away and spat him in the face with how demeaning his love is if it can make her sick to the stomach with thinking he has already gone bored and is only cooking the perfect way to cut off their connection. He hasn't given her a sound reason, only desperate declarations of love like he's trying to convince them both that it's true. And it doesn't make sense how she's still plastered around him in the cold, trying to convince the readers that every word from Jace has deeper meanings that she understands no matter how gibberish they are. I'm not buying that, okay? Stop selling your larger-than-life connection bullshit because that isn't real.

You've only been together for two months, okay? The strongest you can feel for each other is lust. And it's showing.

---

His hands slid down to her waist and he kissed her, long and lingering, making her shudder.

She pulled away, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Neither does this," he said, "but I don't care. I'm sick of trying to pretend I can live without you. Don't you understand that? Can't you see it's killing me?"¹⁰

She stared at him. She could see that he meant what he said [...] Her desire for answers battled the more primal part of her brain, and lost. "Kiss me then,"¹¹

[10] NOBODY THREATENED YOU UNDER BLADE TO DO THAT BULLSHIT, so shut the hell up with the whining. [11] and Clary, I am so disappointed. You've both just drained me, and I'm dry inside like a raisin.

The next paragraphs describe their very erotic kissing against the wall. Jace, propping her up and her legs around his waist bull crap. Seriously? Am I supposed to believe these two are, what sixteen?- up until Isabelle thankfully ruins their moment by kicking a garbage can that would look better with Jace and Clary in it tbh.

---

And the nastiest horseshit of all:

Clary looked at Jace. At any other time, they would have laughed together at Isabelle's moodiness, but there was no humor in his expression, and she knew immediately that whatever they had had between them ---whatever had blossomed out of his momentary lack of control--- it was gone now. [...]

"Jace---" she took a step toward him.

"Don't," he said, his voice very rough. "I can't."¹²

And then he was gone [...]

[12] No, I frickin CANNOT. His actions keep on contradicting his words, and he's fickle and can't decide which mood to settle, and it's so exhausting, honestly. He wasted a few pages for a cosmic, meaningless declaration of feelings. They're empty words. At this point, I believe the writing only strives to convince the readers that these characters care for each other but is shitty at showing it.

It's not love, because they say it is love.

---

I was already gaining hope for this book, and then one simple few-pages scene with clace squishes it, smearing the innards on my face.

Honestly, TALK OR TAKE A BREAK. This back and forth can't continue throughout the rest of the book or -heaven forbid- the rest of the series. Or at least, put these characters in the background if they really must drag on this problem, because I care not a lick.

Bye.

[ma-gic-gay]

"What the fuck?" Michael asks, voice at a dangerous level. He startles them and they pull apart. "You two promised me you're not in a relationship, so what do you call this?"

They've been caught.

Shit.

"Kissing," Carly answers quickly, half lying and half telling the truth. "We're not dating."

"Then please explain to me what this is, Mom," he asks. "You too, Jason."

"Explain what?" Joss asks, walking into the room.

"They kissed."

"Avery owes me 5 bucks now," the blonde smiles. "I can buy a coffee with that money."

"Great, a free coffee. Are you at all having an emotional reaction to Mom and Jason kissing?" Michael asks his sister, who's ignoring him.

"Not my business who Mom and Jason kiss," she responds calmly.

When did she get so grown up? She had her "child of the corn" years a few years ago, but now she's an adult and not freaking out over this? His goddaughter's all grown up. One hell of a way to make you feel old.

"I can't believe you're so calm about this, Joss! They lied to us!"

"Did they? They said they weren't dating. First off, that's a present tense which could've changed, and they didn't say anything about kissing in hospitals," she says, confused.

"Here's that first aid kit for Jason, Carly," Elizabeth says, entering the tense room and handing it to the traumatized woman in the hospital bed. "Do you two need something?"

"My mother to figure out what the hell she feels for Jason Morgan," Michael answers bitterly.

"I'm not going to ask."

"They kissed! And they did it yesterday!" Michael exclaims, emotions getting the best of him before he can remember his tact.

Everyone's shocked he screamed that, Elizabeth especially. "Well. Um, I'm gonna head out. You guys enjoy... Whatever this is."

That's one way for it to come out.

"It's out in the open now," Carly chuckles, opening up the first aid kit and pulling out the bandages, hydrogen peroxide, and Neosporin.

"Mom, what are you doing with his hand?"

"He punched a wall so I'm cleaning up the cuts."

"Why'd you do that?"

"People were gossipping about your mother and what happened to her tonight. It pissed me off and I ended up punching a wall."

"By the looks of it you broke the wall."

"Nah, just a few scratches," Jason tells him before the stinging sensation of the hydrogen peroxide is on his hand. Not exactly a pleasant one.

"Well, are you okay?"

"Besides the fact your mother is stinging me with this stuff, I'm fine."

"Good. What happened to you tonight, Mom?" Michael asks gingerly.

Suddenly, the tension in the air amplifies by 50 if that's even possible. There's a good minute and a half where it's just an awkward silence before Carly answers him, filling the time with applying bandaids to his wounds, "Cyrus took me from the Metro Court. Well, one of his goons. But the goon took me to the Floating Rib, that little room above the bar. Somehow he knew the importance of that place to me and I was kidnapped. He raped me. I also got pretty beat up when I was resisting. Just when I was sure I'd never leave that room, Jason came in and saved me. Cyrus is in police custody right now and there's no way in hell he's getting off."

"He always saves all of us," Joss smiles at him. "Thanks."

"Anytime. I'll always save you guys, you know that," Jason returns her smile and sees one appear on Michael's face as well, though he's half ready to kill someone. It always happens when someone brings up rape, Michael gets distant and mad. Probably because of his own experience with it.

It's a good thing Cyrus is in police custody because if he wasn't, Jason has a feeling that he'd end up helping them cover up a murder.

"Mom, I'm so sorry you had to go through it. Cyrus is a sick bastard. You know that I'll be able to pull some strings and all of the Quartermaine's will testify in your behalf if you need to go to trial," Michael offers.

"Thanks, but I'm hoping he'll plead guilty and I won't have to sit through a trial."

"Well, if you do, you've got the best lawyer in the state on your side and all of us," Joss says, "besides, there's a bunch of evidence he did it. And everyone knows Jason's practically incapable of lying, so he'll be a great witness!"

"You, on the other hand, are a good liar, Joss," Michael counters.

"The law doesn't know that, Michael."

"I better never get a call I have to bail you out of jail."

"I'll call Cam or Trina. You'll be last on the list of people I'd call to bail me out, trust me," she playfully reassures her brother.

"Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"You pick."

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Corinthos cannot have visitors anymore," Epiphany tells them, interrupting the group gathering.

Sadly, her kids say goodbye to her, promising to visit in the morning. Jason, however, doesn't leave his chair. "Mr. Morgan, did you hear me? No more visitors. Visiting hours are over."

"I'm family."

"So are her children. They don't get to stay the night, neither do you."

"I need him to stay. When I sleep, I keep having nightmares- screaming, terrifying nightmares, and he's the only one who can get me back to sleep. Come on, Epiphany, you know we always spend the night in each other's hospital rooms," Carly attempts to bargain with the nurse.

"And if this were normal circumstances, I would allow it."

"What about this isn't normal circumstances?" Jason asks.

"Well, first off, Michael told Elizabeth about your... Activity. And second, this is a police investigation too. Hospital policy says that he can't stay the night."

"Oh my god," Carly scoffs, "because my son discussed something with us that Lizzie overheard and then spread to the whole town by now, he can't spend the night? Epiphany, I've given myself panic attacks with these nightmares already and he's been here! He's the only person who can calm me down and I know how important rest is for recovery. Besides, it's not like we have no self control. I would never have sex in a hospital."

Epiphany cocks an eyebrow at Jason, who innocently raises his hands. "You know me better than that."

Carly starts laughing at him being stared down by Epiphany, who he simply stated blankly at back. It's a contest of who's going to back down first, and they all know he'll win. His stubbornness is one personality trait that always comes out in hospitals.

"Fine. But I swear, if you two go at it, there will be hell to pay," Epiphany threatens before leaving, letting Jason stay in there. A win. "And she cannot stay up all night making out with you, she needs her rest. So do you, you look like hell."

"Yes ma'am," they answer and she shakes her head before closing the door.

"I feel like I'm in high school again," Carly jokes.

"No clue what that's like."

"Hell, if you're me. You, though, I bet you were that one kid all the teachers loved and the students too. A golden boy. I'm convinced you would've hated me in high school."

"Well, I wouldn't have remembered it anyways," he reminds her.

"Nah, I'm unforgettable," she says, a smirk playing on her lips. "Even with an amnesia causing coma."

"That's not how it-" he gets cut off by her kissing him again.

This is becoming more and more normal and that scares him. He's comfortable in his reality and, as usual, she's ready to bring Hurricane Carly into his life and break his equilibrium.

Well, that and the thought she could make another of those lists. The list scares him more than breaking this state of equilibrium.

"We promised Epiphany we wouldn't do this," he reminds her when they break apart.

"No, we promised her I'd rest and that we wouldn't stay up all night kissing or have sex," Carly corrects.

"Yes, you need your rest, Carly. Please, try to sleep," he urges.

"I'm offended!"

"Carly-"

"You have a guy telling you you're wrong and shut him up and now you've got to sleep. God how times have changed."

"No, it's not that. You, however, need your sleep. Besides, if you have a nightmare, I promise you can kiss me again," he finds himself saying.

Well. That part was unexpected. He really needs a reevaluation of feelings for her.

"Well, if his Royal Highness-"

"I'll kiss you if you have a nightmare, alright?" Jason revises his statement and she smiles.

"Deal."

"Good, you need to rest."

"So do you."

"Just worry about yourself, I'm fine."

"Mhm," she haphazardly agrees, allowing herself to fall back into a slumber while he shifts in the chair he's mastered the ability of sleeping in over the years.

To be continued later in life when it's not 1:30 am est

go to sleep :)

[bisexualcroissant]

#they fucking KILL me like I just want to sob into my hands when I think too hard about them#something about siblings who love each other but are torn apart and when you most need to protect them you can’t#jean obviously had loved elodie so much when they were kids & the contrast between his gentle care for her vs. their parents lack of it#is just so deeply fucking harrowing#and jean was just a child too – he was a child the whole time – a child failed by everyone around him the same way they failed elodie#anyway fucking hell i can't. i cannot. these two break me apart

Thinking about Jean and Elodie Moreau again. Thinking about doomed siblings, and the unspeakable tragedy of it all; Jean’s hopeless despair and his need to know why, why hadn’t they saved her, because Elodie hadn’t deserved it—not like he did, right? They weren’t the same, they couldn’t be.

Jean remembering France, remembering blackberries and the little ducks of Elodie’s dress and the salty breeze off the Mediterranean. She’d been ten when he left home, just ten when he’d stopped protecting her from their mother’s temper and father’s violent business. Did she know he hadn’t gone by choice? Did she blame him or forgive him?

Jean wondering, but not being sure if he wanted to know what had really happened, because as long as he didn’t he could remember Elodie as she had been in his memory, as safe: So long as she existed as fractured memories, she was safe and small and sheltered. The long, terrible silence after Jean asked about her, and Stuart’s awful, “Did you think you were special?”

Jean’s disbelief at the unfathomable, because it was, it couldn’t be true—a single question shattering his deep-rooted belief that he had deserved everything he got, so nothing bad could have happened to Elodie, because unlike him she didn’t deserve it, right? Right? “Elodie,” Jean said, and just hearing her name aloud almost snapped him in half. “She was only ten when I left home. Ten! Why didn’t they love her enough to keep her safe? Why didn’t they–” love me?

Neil quietly saying, “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Jean’s spiral, his despair, everything breaking in an instant: They sold us both to monsters and slammed the door on our screams. Why? Why? Why?

The photograph outside the Moreau childhood home. All that mattered were the two kids sitting in the backyard: Jean at nine or ten, with a tiny Elodie buried against his side. He remembered that dress of hers, with its little yellow ducks. He’d clumsily patched up the hem a half-dozen times when she tore it on the blackberry bushes taking over their backyard. How much Jean had loved her. But in the end it wasn’t enough, not to change his fate, nor hers.

Jean and Elodie as children, as they had been. Jean the older brother who had protected her, sent away at the age of fourteen to never come home again. Jean’s unspeakable loss knowing Elodie was gone. Realising that nothing either of them ever did would have been enough to make their parents protect them; to love them enough to keep them safe. Jean’s heart, knocking holes in his ribcage, his quickly fracturing control, the escalating, violent grief. Endure. Endure. Endure.

“I am just a Moreau,” Jean said, flat and fierce. “I am not—”

“So was Elodie,” Neil reminded him, and Jean stopped breathing. “Remember that the next time you think you aren’t worth saving.”