#apologies if any of this was incoherent I am mentally ill

[arson-is-chill-actually]

So. Episode 11, Huh

Spoilers Ahead!!!

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS HOLY SHIT

I watched it at like 8 right after I got up and I was not mentally prepared AT ALL.

There is a lot of stuff revealed in this episode and there is a lot of discussion to be had, but I hade one brain-melting thought that I need to subject to the rest of you.

Because now we know that Chosen and Vic each symbolize to each other their own perceptions of Alan as their creator and as a person.

For Vic, Alan and what he did is a constant presence and weight on their mind. Their creator and God who entertained himself through their suffering and death, constantly bringing them back just for a new round of torture. The one who held every scrap of power and ruined Vic's existence just because he could.

Vic escaping was a fluke. They were never meant to leave the PC, and they were haunted by Alan for years, the pain of the past never subsiding, just fading into the background. Then they lose their anchor, and likely dozens of others who they care for. Once again their past rears its ugly head, all of it caused by the selfish actions of one strong enough to be considered a god.

But what's a god to a nonbeliever? So what if they could lose everything if they went down this path? They had noting left to lose. When he finally got Chosen into the box, I doubt that they saw a stick figure. Because what Chosen represents is the source of every cursor imagined in the reflection, every sleepless night, every bruise and cut and scar removed when their body was revived.

For Chosen, Alan may be his creator and captor, but he is no god. Chosen had the ability to properly fight back against Alan, and in a fair fight Chosen likely would have won. But it wasn't a fair fight. It was never going to be a fair fight. And he lost.

While Chosen never forced through the same kind of suffering as Victim, isolation is a kind of torture in its own right. He probably grew desperate, pleading to the one who chained him just for something to ease the loneliness. It's no wonder it took him so long to finally say no to Dark. How could he possibly risk losing the only person to ever be kind to him when he knew the suffocating pain of loneliness?

Vic knew that they were being used for Alan's entertainment. But Chosen? All he ever knew was that he was being used. He never knew the "why" behind Alan's actions, and he still doesn't. And he doesn't know they why behind Vic's actions, either. Why they were hunting him down. Why they were taking away his only source of protection, why they wanted to know about Alan so badly.

Why they were so stunned seeing Second's powers.

Second is different from them. Because Second is the only one of Alan's creations that has seen him change. Has seen him grow.

Chosen never saw how much Alan changed. He never wanted any kind of relationship with him after he left the PC with Dark. He stopped the virabot to prevent it from spreading, not to save Alan. He went to the PC not for Alan's help, but for Second's. He doesn't want to be involved or associated with Alan anymore.

Vic just doesn't care. They want vengeance on a version of Alan that doesn't exist anymore and they couldn't care less.

But Second knows that they should. Second knows about the lives that would be caught in the crossfire if Vic continues. Lives that already have been caught in the crossfire once before.

Eventually Vic's story is going to come to light, it has to for this to end. But Vic is going to have to hear Second's and Chosen's stories as well. And they won't forgive Alan. But they will move on.

Because moving on is the only true way to move forward.

[callibones]

UM HI HI HI ITS ME. 🩸🟪 AND I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU I AM VERY SORRY!!!

this week ive been exceptionally busy. a lot of stuff has been piling up for me with university and work and it didnt really give me a lot of time to look at tumblr OR read the fics! ill get to them! i didnt forget i swear ive just been EXHAUSTED this message is just being pulled out of my ass since i didnt expect to write to you today so i dont have any topics planned to ask you about. i didnt wanna take the time to think of something because i didnt want it to seem like i was ignoring your poast (despite the fact you wouldve never known if i had seen it or not .. but MENTALLY i'd feel bad, you know?) but uh. yeah

i don't know how people talk. um. how are you? has your week been particularly busy? what DO you do outside of tumblogging actually .. im curious

OH AND ALSO i very much appreciate the backstory info you gave me on callibones. i MIGHT take inspiration from it for my fanart? maybee? and uh i will send that to you SOON! very soon. i guess in the meantime id just wanna polish it more before sending it to someone out of like. principle?

i looked through your friends blog.. i like the concept of a blood bag person thing. there were probably better ways of saying that but IDK!! once again though i think it is Extremely Drawable so i have a small request ..

and regarding CALCIFER .. i think i would appreciate a deity to deity chat. or an potential acolyte to deity chat or I Mean Ha Ha. and those pronouns are Pretty Cool if i do say so myself! im worried directly sending in an ask would be strange so since you said you were friends with them can you parrot my question? i rlly wanna know whether drawing fanart of their OC is okay. sorry what else. im going to try and plan my next correspondence out ASAP so ill probably go through the cedardivine post before the post you made with a ton of fics? just because the list is shorter. idk what ill do after that--maybe ill rank them or something and you can tell me how wrong my opinion is or something Haha! just kidding im always right. i create new truths as we speak. as im typing this im overwriting just a little bit more of the world's knowledge. im just cool and awesome like that. theres nothing else i can think of at the moment to ask you.. OH UM when you mentioned callyris i realized "hey wait dont i know a blog called that" and Look Who It Was! so thats neat i also think i found another blog that may be under your posession but i dont think i can ask about it at the front desk.. so when i message you in some other manner ill probably ask you about that! who knows i might even be Completely Wrong

well anyways sorry for the delay. it will probably take a while longer for me to compose my thoughts so the delay will continue but. idk. i hope this message isnt TOO INCOHERENT but again i am not proofreading at all for this one.

also im definitely using gooby forever now. thats great. what a peculiar phrase.

GOOBY!!!!

hi hi hi hi! i took a million years to get back to this so NEVER apologize or rush about sending me things. anon asks r a tough way to communicate cause i dont got an online indicator for u so i just gotta guess... and u dont got a notification for me! i hope u see this even tho its been a bit.

ive been busy too cause university's also piling up for ME. i'm gonna respond to this one first, and then i'll take a crack at your mysterious coded message! and then i have to do a million homework because grad school. outside of tumblogging im trying to destroy the world with the infinite power amulet, so i'm majoring in general supervillainy! and also urban planning

for the blood bag: @rigormarcy LOVES fanart. marcy, if u see this, respond with your ref, 'cause you have a super drawable OC! the fans wanna draw u so bad. So Bad.

u found another blog that might b me? omg.... here. how bout this. send me an ask with just the name and i wont publish the response. if youre REALLY curious. but youre probably right, because i invented every blog on tumblr GOOBY

[ednito]

did you ever get that eddieverse server up and running? If so, I'd love to join! :D

I'm adding your other ask cause it's easier to answer both.

On the topic of Mr. Dot I'm so??? Astonished?? Speechless with what happened, words literally can't describe how badly this bag of horse shit has been fumbled. His apology isn't even really an apology its just a "sorry you feel that way" bull. His other responses, the ones he deleted, are even worse. Good lord.

In response to the second ask about the discord, funny story! I did make the server but I haven't had the time to sit down and make each chat and role and get bots and stuff- I'm hoping to do that today. On the topic of EV I've wanted to talk about this when I would be starting it but I'm most likely not starting anytime soon so I think I'll just say the fun news here now!

I'm actually really passionate about EV, close friends and even family understand how important my fanverse is. I've decided the only way I feel I can properly portray it is to make it into a game!!! Complicated sure but with how complex the story is a gaming format is probably the best choice of portrayal! Of course that'll take time to develop so In the meantime I'll make little things to tease the game and to also air out certain information that I know won't make it to the game! And I want to use the server to help document my progress and also hear some feedback from others! At the moment the scarecrow audio tapes and something to do with riddler are two side projects I'm eyeing!

I understand that the topics in my fanverse are rather serious ones, development is slow because I want to be able to portray these topics in a realistic, respectful way and I've been looking into things like addiction, certain medical diseases/disorders/syndromes, the affects of antisemitism and racism and other topics such as SA and abuse. I research how it affects individuals and how it affects the psychi and societal norms. I know I can relate to some of these experiences like having mental illnesses and being a victim of SA and abuse but I also understand my perspective is different from others and I don't want to show a type of bias or one sided understanding. And because of this passion I'd rather take years to make this project as perfect as it can be then to spurt out a bunch of incoherent nonsense without any understanding of what I'm talking about. Plus like... idk about any other fan project creator but I'm working on this alone really so. No shit I'm gonna take my time LMAO

Sorry for the tangent. It's just important to me, this whole thing is important to me. I'll admit I get emotional over this because of how passionate i am (im pretty sensitive), I literally can't think of anything else to say waaaaaaaa.

[faux-parenchyma]

I am politely asking you abou Joe (/EXCITED)

OHOHOHOHO MY MOMENT HAS COME THE JOE TIMES EVER!!!

As a little preface- this is a multi ending/route story au thing I’m doing w @mcytscienceside, of which I’m v v happy to say joe gets his own route. (It’s all under the cut ehe, apologies if it’s incoherent it’s literally 11 am and also I do not write)

Following the initial plot of Ren’s ascension to the throne, Joe, among the rest of the canon Square Table, belonged to the court of the king who passed prior. Though, now that Ren is here, the Square Table remains, their service not yet finished.

Joe takes on the role of a well-established scholar, his personal research pertaining to the history of his kingdom, as well as the active practice of poetic incantation. However, over time, this research quickly evolves into researching the existence of the kingmaker, and what gives said kingmaker the divine right. This reflects the one tweet Mr.Hills gave us a few months back, which is quoted as

[ I believe western monarchies are intrinsically flawed because they are rooted in the claim of “the divine right of kings”—the monarch’s power is granted by God. Anyone who lies about being granted authority from God is a liar I wouldn’t trust to hold my drink, let alone rule.]

Naturally, Bdubs sparks Joes interest, then. How can a seemingly normal man travel from kingdom to kingdom, crowning who he pleases for literal centuries- without dying? (Which this little tidbit makes me all happy considering the frequent association joe has with death) Surely it could ONLY be the cause of divine right- and therefore not a lie in the slightest? So Joe takes to studying The Kingmaker at any moment he can, scouring historical records for any information on Kingmakers, The Tree of Whimsy, and the like.

If he continues his research in the route, Joe finds his interest soon turn into an unhealthy obsession, though this was bound to happen, considering the quest for knowledge is a slippery slope. No matter how far back he delves into the historical records, it’s ALWAYS seems to be just bdubs, never aging in the slightest, always crowning king after king-

-that is until Joe finds a depiction of a very ancient looking man unlike bdubs, still holding the same title.

Did being a Kingmaker under the Tree of Whimsy work with some kind of anti-aging effect- and moreover, could there only be one Kingmaker at a time? There were obviously others preceding him- meaning the likelihood of another taking bdubs place was high. Could this be the ticket to evading death? Death was, after all, a concept that frequently left an unsettling pit in the scholars stomach. He needed to know more- the thought of being so close to unlocking the answers to his questions, yet missing one crucial piece, making him finally snap.

This new version of Joe essentially consists of the physical manifestation of his desire for knowledge, and his magical capabilities causing his mind to become muddled and manic. He appears unlike his normal, neutral demeanor- passerby even likening him to a GHASTLY version of himself (oooo wow it’s like Beetlejhost but mentally ill /hj)

The next course of action would be to confront Bdubs, and force him to let joe see the tree for himself. Why keep the secret to evading death all to yourself??

There’s more to this, but I think it would be silly goofy if I left it here bc I am evil and also want to draw my blorbo before I add more >:)

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 1/?)

Because nothing says ‘independence day’ like writing the participants in a French rebellion as members of the British upper class...

The Bridgerton AU that no one asked for. Will be at least 4 chapters, probably, to be published on a schedule only God herself can predict. Developing E/R, hijinks and shenanigans. All of the shenanigans.

One might recall when, not too long ago, the author of this paper hung up her pen and retired from reporting on the drama that each new season of fresh-faced debutantes and their endlessly anxious mothers brings. But alas, dear Reader, the excitement of this season has proven too much for this Author to suffer without company – which is why the pen has been passed to a new scribe.

But the fortuitous timing of the season has not been met with equally thrilling events for sharing here, as indeed, the most recent ball, hosted annually at the start of the season by the ever-insufferable Thénardiers, was positively under-attended. Not by the eager mothers that are the backbone of any season or their equally eager daughters, but by the young, eligible men who usually at least deign to make an appearance, dance a few dances, and exchange niceties as is expected for men of their station.

Instead, the only poor sap who wandered into the Thénardiers’ den of matchmaking was the Baron of Pontmercy, who was positively beset by hopeful ingénues, the most brazen of which was undoubtedly the Thénardiers’ eldest daughter, Éponine. While this Author notes that Miss Thénardier has had a patchy history with suitors and thus cannot be fully blamed for attempting to sink her claws into one as eligible as the baron, this Author must also sympathize with Baron Pontmercy, who seemed only to find himself with one moment to himself. 

Then again, rumor has it that his single moment was interrupted by an unknown young lady with an equally unknown chaperone who whisked her away posthaste. Her identity is one mystery both this Author and Baron Pontmercy are equally eager to discover, but the more pressing question is where the others of Baron Pontmercy’s gender were when they should have been equally beset by potential brides.

Never fear: Whatever answers I find, dear Reader, I shall certainly share with other enquiring minds. For a nominal fee, of course. While there are rumors of young men meeting in the backroom of a certain gentlemen’s club to discuss the overthrow of society, capitalism, and the King himself, this Author, being of the gentler sex, finds herself unable to obtain an invite, and as such, alas, cannot bring herself to comply with their lofty goals. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 20 MARCH 1831

The air in the backroom at the Musain Gentlemen’s Club was hazy with smoke and thick with plentiful conversation as its guests, all young men dressed in their dinner best, traded stories and jokes in between sips of their drinks.

At least one among them was not drinking, though – Enjolras, who sat in an overlarge armchair towards the back of the room, his back to one of the large windows that spanned almost the entire height of the wall. He alone was also not joining his friends in their merriment, his brow instead creased as he read over something.

When he had finished, he glanced up. “Combeferre,” he called, barely raising his voice despite the cacophony of the room. 

Not that he needed to: the moment he spoke, the room fell quiet as all eyes glanced at him as if waiting for him to continue. In return, he just arched an eyebrow at them. “Well, don’t let me put an end to your fun.”

A dark haired man sitting at a table in the far corner playing cards with two others raised his glass in a mocking toast. “Worry not,” he called in return. “You won’t.”

Laughter broke out yet again at that, and most of their number returned to their previous conversations as Combeferre pulled up a chair next to Enjolras’s. Enjolras pursed his lips, looking unamused. “Why is Grantaire even here?” he asked Combeferre, who, quite to the contrary, looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I imagine because you have not yet told him that you wish for him to leave and never return,” Combeferre said evenly before giving Enjolras a rather assessing look. “Assuming, of course, that is what you wish.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “That’s not the point—”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “No, the point is that you had a comment, I assume, about the pamphlet I gave you to review.”

Enjolras still looked disgruntled, but seemed more than willing to allow the change in subject. “The pamphlet is fine, but I imagine you already knew that.” He handed the pamphlet draft back to Combeferre before asking, “What do you imagine the distribution schedule to look like? With Parliament sitting this week—”

He was interrupted by a thin, rather-nervous looking man appearing at his elbow, the doorman to the establishment who was paid a decent sum by each man inside the room to not interrupt them and to report nothing of their comings and going to any who might enquire. When Enjolras had made that arrangement, he had been thinking of the police; when his friends had followed his lead, most were thinking of their mothers.

“M’Lord Enjolras, I do beg your pardon—” he started, sounding almost as nervous as he looked.

Enjolras’s brow furrowed again. “It’s fine, what is it?” he asked, a touch impatiently.

The doorman bobbed his head and cleared his throat. “There is a, ah, a woman seeking entry.”

Bahorel, seated nearby, let out a wolf whistle. “The young ladies of the season are getting restless!” he crowed, to much laughter. 

“Restless, and bold, if they are coming into the city to seek their groom, and without a chaperone to boot,” Bossuet said with a grin.

“Leave to Enjolras to be the one to cause all tradition to break,” Jehan sniggered.

Enjolras could feel his ears burning red but he studiously ignored the jeers and catcalls from his friends, instead frowning at the doorman. “May I ask why are you telling me this?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. “Last I checked, it was your policy to restrict admittance to men, despite my protestations to the contrary.”

“Of course, M’Lord, it’s just…” The doorman quailed slightly at the look Enjolras gave him. “The woman in question claims to be your mother.”

Immediately, all jokes ceased as identical, horror-stricken looks crossed the faces of each of his friends. Enjolras blanched, all the blood draining from his face. “Did you confirm that I was inside?” he asked, a little desperately.

The doorman shook his head, his eyes widening. “No, of course not, m’lord’s discretion being of utmost importance to this establishment.” He hesitated. “That said, she did not appear to believe our denial, and is threatening to come inside and verify for yourself that you are not here.”

Enjolras groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course she is,” he sighed. He glanced at Combeferre as if considering asking for his assistance, but seemed to think better of it, instead standing and drawing himself up to his full height. “Right,” he said. “Well, I think you’ve got everything handled here, so I suppose I’ll just go, er, handle this situation.”

Combeferre again looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Of course,” he said. “And, if you do not return, I shall call upon you later this week, shall I?”

“Yes, but the question will be more whether you should call upon me at my house or at the hospital,” Enjolras muttered, and it was to Combeferre’s credit that he still somehow managed not to laugh.

The same could not be said for Grantaire, who started humming what Enjolras recognized vaguely as a funeral dirge as soon as he headed towards the door, and Enjolras gave him the nastiest glare he could muster. Of course, Grantaire was unaffected – if anything, it only caused his grin to widen, and he raised his cup in yet another mocking toast as Enjolras swept out of the room to go deal with his mother.

It was anyone’s guess whether his mother or Grantaire irritated him more.

He started to ask the doorman where his mother was, but found that he did not need to ask – her voice was echoing all the way from the entrance hall. “I am the Dowager Marchioness of Enjolras,” she was practically shrieking, and Enjolras winced, mentally calculating how much money it would take to smooth this particular incident over. Certainly less than when Courfeyrac almost burned the place down, but almost certainly more than when Bahorel and Grantaire had gotten into a fistfight and broken two statues and a chandelier.

He really needed better friends.

And a different mother.

“I demand to speak with my son!” his mother continued, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. “And do not give me this nonsense that he is not here, I know quite well where my son is!”

“M’lady, I apologize, but as I have said, we cannot confirm that your son—”

“I shall confirm it for myself,” Enjolras interrupted, saving the poor proprietor, who had never looked more relieved to see him. “Mother, kindly stop screeching at these gentlemen for doing their jobs.” His mother spluttered incoherently  but Enjolras knew better than to allow her the chance to regroup.

Instead, he grabbed her by the elbow and steered her to the door, glancing over his shoulder to nod his thanks at the proprietor. As soon as they were outside the building, Enjolras dropped any pretense at propriety. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, not releasing his mother from his grip. “Coming all the way into the city to find me? Pray tell what could possibly have been so important to cause such a scene!”

His mother yanked her arm from his grasp and glared up at him. “A scene?” she repeated, her voice deathly quiet. “My dear son, if you consider that a scene, you are ill-prepared for what is soon to follow.”

Enjolras sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “There is no need for theatrics—”

Without warning, his mother slapped him across the face. “Theatrics?” she hissed. “When I have spent every waking moment these past several years trying to ensure your future and the future of our house!”

She made as if to hit him again but Enjolras caught her wrist, staying her hand. “Madam, you may be the Dowager Marchioness but I am the Marquess of Enjolras, and I will not permit you to assault me in the streets, my mother or not.” He released her arm before adding sardonically, “Besides, think of the gossip.”

Again his mother gave him no warning to gird himself, but this time, she burst into tears, sobbing into his shirt. “Oh, for the love of—” Enjolras took her again by the elbow, gentler this time, and led her to where her carriage waited. “Get a hold of yourself,” he snapped. “You have already made enough of a scene this evening.”

“Perhaps a scene is what it will take!” she half-shouted in return. “For you to finally listen to me, to hear what I have been telling you!” Enjolras rolled his eyes, holding out his hand to help her into her carriage, but she stubbornly refused to move. “Since you clearly don’t listen to me when I make arrangements solely for your benefit.”

“I assure you, you have never once done anything solely for my benefit,” Enjolras said tiredly. “But if it will stop your screaming then please, tell me the latest way in which I have ruined your plans for my future.”

“The Thénardier ball!” his mother wailed, crying again. “All those eligible young ladies, and you could not even deign to show your face! How am I to get you married at this rate?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes so hard he half-feared he would pull a muscle. “Hang the bloody Thénardier ball,” he ground out, hesitating for only a moment before picking his mother up and placing her inside the carriage, swinging up after her before she could protest. 

“What are you doing?” she cried as the carriage moved off at double speed, and Enjolras thanked whatever higher power there was that his mother’s driver also clearly did not wish to linger.

Enjolras sighed. “You wanted me attention,” he said tiredly. “So you have it, albeit not in public where you clearly wanted it.”

For one long moment, his mother just glared at him, tears shining on her cheeks. Then she sighed and sat upright, her pose turning almost prim as she drew a linen handkerchief from her sleeve and delicately dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “Very well,” she said calmly, all traces of earlier hysteria gone in an instant, and Enjolras realized immediately that he had been duped, that he had played directly into her hands.

She had anticipated that making a scene would be the easiest way to get him to leave with her.

And now she had him as a captive audience for however long it took for her driver to reach her house. And while he was not a betting man, he would wager all his money and lands that she had directed her driver to take the long way.

His mother was smiling at him, a cold, unpleasant smile, and Enjolras groaned, tipping his head back against the pillowed cushions. “Please don’t tell me that you really pulled all of that because you wished to discuss the Thénardier ball.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she said before tapping his knee. “And sit upright, you will cause your clothes to wrinkle.” Enjolras groaned and reluctantly sat upright, glaring balefully at her as he waited for her to continue. “No, I merely wished to discuss something and this seemed the easiest way.”

“Then by all means, please tell me: what do you want to discuss?”

“Why, what else?” she asked, a small smirk lifting the corners of her mouth. “Your marriage.”

----------

There were few things that Enjolras loathed more than being hoodwinked by his own mother into a conversation he’d been spending the past several years avoiding, but as he stood staring up at the rather imposing façade of a house he had been to only perhaps a handful of times, he thought this just might rank.

Still, his options were decidedly limited, and he hesitated only a moment more before climbing the stairs to the front door, knocking briskly. In telling of a house less used to visits during the season, it took a moment for the butler to answer the door, and Enjolras shifted uncomfortably on the stoop as he waited. 

“May I help you?” the butler asked as he opened the door. 

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “I’m here to see Grantaire.”

The butler eyed him warily. “And who should I tell Mr. Grantaire is here to see him?”

It took everything in Enjolras not to roll his eyes. “Tell him that the Marquess of Enjolras requests his presence,” he said dryly, hating the way the butler’s eyes widened when he realized just who was standing in the doorway.

“Of– of course, m’lord,” the butler said, immediately opening the door wider to usher Enjolras indoors. “Beg your pardon, m’lord. I’ll just, ah, go fetch Mr, Grantaire.”

He retreated up the stairs and Enjolras finally did roll his eyes, sighing heavily as he wandered a little further indoors. He had spent half his life, it seemed, going from one grand house to another, so very little surprised him, but he was intrigued by what he might find in Grantaire’s house. While his own park-adjoining manor had been in his family for generations, and was decorated accordingly, Grantaire came from new money, and this house had belonged to a different family entirely not even a decade before. 

He paused to examine a small portrait of two young children, a boy and a girl, when he heard footsteps clattering on the stairs and he turned to look up as Grantaire joined him, a jacket rather hastily thrown on and buttoned incorrectly.

“My Lord.”

Grantaire’s voice was pitched just slightly higher than usual, in a way that indicated genuine surprise at finding Enjolras standing in his foyer, but somehow still retained the telltale lilt that Enjolras had long since realized meant Grantaire was making fun of him. 

He scowled automatically. “Enjolras,” he corrected with an exasperated half-sigh.

Grantaire inclined his head, a smirk twisting his lips. “My lord Enjolras,” he said, and Enjolras’s scowl deepened.

“Just Enjolras,” he said flatly, not waiting for Grantaire to escort him into the house, instead crossing the foyer to peer into the front sitting room. 

“By all means, make yourself at home,” Grantaire said, following him.

Enjolras twisted his head to give Grantaire a smirk of his own. “As you seem so keen to remind me, I outrank you,” he said. “And believe me when I say this is one time I will feel no guilt using the trappings of the nobility to my advantage.”

Grantaire just snorted, brushing past him into the sitting room, ignoring the tea that had been set on the table and instead making his way over to the drink cart against the far wall. “Forgive me, but I can think of many instances where you undoubtedly used your title and your family to your advantage without any guilt,” he said dryly, pouring himself half a glass full of amber liquid before pausing, considering it, and adding another finger. “But let’s save that particular fight for a different time.” He turned back to Enjolras and raised his glass in a mock toast. “For now, before I forget my manners any further, let me say welcome to my home, and please, allow me to pour you a cup of tea.”

“I am capable of pouring my own tea, thanks,” Enjolras said, a little stiffly, and he sat down on one armchair before leaning forward to rather stubbornly do just that.

Grantaire did not join him, as if he thought keeping physical distance between them might keep things civil. “Only you would think that hospitality was an insult.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “The way you said it, it was.”

“You underestimate my capacity for being genuinely polite,” Grantaire said dryly, taking a large sip of his whiskey.

“Do I?”

“Tell me, my Lord—” Enjolras gritted his teeth but chose not to interrupt him. “—if not to insult me to my face in my own home, what brings you here, and at tea time no less?”

His voice was calm, pleasant even, but Enjolras felt himself flush in realization that he had done exactly that. And no matter how frequently he might wish to throttle Grantaire with his own hands, that was offensive even for him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down at his tea as he stirred it. “I have been rude.

Grantaire looked briefly surprised, as if he had not expected an apology. But then his smirk was back in full force. “All is forgiven...my lord.” Enjolras really might shatter his teacup at this rate. “But you still didn’t answer my question as to why you are here.”

Enjolras set his teacup down and straightened, looking Grantaire in the eye. “I came to ask for your help.”

Grantaire laughed. “So you come to my home, uninvited, you insult me to my face, and you still have the audacity to ask for my help?” He drained half of his whiskey in one long gulp. “You are lucky you have been granted the face of a Greek god, Apollo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Enjolras sighed, though he knew it was a losing battle. Grantaire had called him that on the first day they met, when Grantaire was finishing college and Enjolras just beginning, and he had continued to call him that for all the years since. “Look, I am sorry, and not just because I need your help. I am ill suited to polite society and the longer the season drags on, the more foul my temper becomes.”

Grantaire made a small noise of agreement. “You and I both,” he murmured, draining his glass and pouring himself another before finally joining Enjolras, settling into the armchair across from him. “Very well. You have my attention.”

Enjolras leaned forward, sudden urgency in every line of his body. “Word has it that you were instrumental in helping Lord Joly and Mr. Lesgle avoid scandal last season when both were in love with Lady Musichetta.”

“Well, we avoided a big scandal at least,” Grantaire said, eyeing Enjolras carefully. “There must always be a little bit of a scandal or none would believe it.”

Enjolras waved a dismissive hand. “Either way, all three are happy, and living at Lord Joly’s estate, and not a word about them has been wasted in Lady Whistledown’s papers this season.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “I am astonished to learn you have read any of the newly-revived Lady Whistledown’s papers, let alone with enough frequency to speak with such authority on the subject.:

Enjolras flushed a mottled red and looked away. “It’s an easy conversation topic,” he muttered, “when I am forced to speak to those with whom I have nothing in common.”

“Such as the twittering nitwits your mother foists upon you at every turn?” Grantaire asked lightly.

Enjolras met his eyes evenly. “Exactly. And exactly why I am here.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “You’re here to better learn how to talk with women?” he asked, almost certainly purposefully obtuse. “I admit, I am an expert on the subject, but—”

“Of course not,” Enjolras snapped. “Not to mention if I did need help in that arena, you would be the last person I would turn to.”

Grantaire laughed. “Your loss, he said cheerfully. After all, to have bedded as many women as I with a face like mine requires quite the expert hand at wooing.” Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire smirked before taking another sip of whiskey. “Very well. If you are not here for my help in speaking to young ladies to finally secure a marriage match, then why are you here?”

“Because I do need to marry someone,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “But I need it not to be real.” Again he met Grantaire’s eyes. “And you are the only person I can think of who can help me pull that off.”

[moshus-blog]

Taking it back..Story of an East Bay Punk Grrrl.

It's been exactly 20 years and I am still very emotional over the whole thing. I am going to try and tell my story, to the best of my memory. My therapist said many of these memories have been repressed because it was absolutely abusive behavior, and I was so young. My Corbett story: How he quickly became my 'best friend'.

Technically I was 13 years old when I went to my first Gilman show. It was an early, all weekend showcase for SPAM records - Geekfest 1999. I met many folks there who are still my friends to this day. I met the owner of SPAM - Corbett. His band was headlining. He basically asked me what I was doing there and if I had a good time. He said he was stoked to see young folks get involved in the scene. He told me to come back and volunteer. It was exactly what I needed in my life at the time. A music oriented community. Sooner or later he invited me around SPAM records office when they first moved into East Oakland. I spent the next several years basically attached to this man's hip. 

Helping the record label, going to shows, and basically hiding out at the office space. He had a partner at the time so I thought I was just part of the family. He and I talked on the phone when I was at my parents house. He walked me to and from BART. He called my mom to let her know I was in good hands and I was a huge help. He told her he would pay me what he could - and it was like a job. He would let me send emails and contact some of the folks that did distro for the label like Tobi Vail. He asked me to do it because he knew I loved Bikini Kill. He was so supportive, or so I thought. I honestly can't say I'd be the same person without him. But as time went on, things changed...and it got weird and very uneasy. Also changing me as a person.

I was never romantically or sexually attracted to Corbett so I thought it was OK. He had a girlfriend, I had a friend in him...until it became apparent to everyone around us he was obsessed with me (for lack of a better term). He gave me old pictures of himself from when he was a kid. He told me his life stories. He told me his dreams for SPAM and Bobby Joe. But as this went on, I felt like it was so weird for this way older man to have a real close '15 year old' bestie while having a relationship. It got weirder and weirder for me, but by this time I had made a circle of friends who quickly became my family. It was more or less brushed under the rug by myself. 

I wanted to get out of my parents house, I wanted to be a part of something more. I knew this was my way out, and my new way of life. Fast forward to looking for the SPAM warehouse (now I am 16). I helped him find a space to rent. It was a proud and exciting moment for us all. Corbett moved into a small room above the practice rooms in the warehouse. It was loud during the day, and his health was declining (Drugs? Alcohol? Mental illness? Unsure). His teeth were rotting, he was vomiting frequently -  I always thought he was sneaking drugs, but something was else off. He would take 1 hit of pot and his eyes would go crooked. He stopped making sense. His emotions were out of control. I did a lot of research and concluded his melatonin levels were so low so drugs or alcohol of any kind would turn him into a babbling cross eyed frenzy.  I was unsure what it was exactly, but I was highly cautious of him at this point. 

I finally moved into the warehouse. He borrowed a van, packed up my things from my parents house, and drove me to East Oakland. He couldn't afford his rent, so I took over the small room above the practice spaces. I thought it was helping him and the space. But people were mad at me about it. They thought I was taking advantage of him. It was awkward because they were basically my roommates. I was too young to know any better. I just wanted to get out - and again, he told me I was helping him and not to listen to anyone else. He stayed on the couch right outside of the room. His emotions/actions got crazier and crazier. One night, he half shaved his head, walked to the overpass over the Oakland freeway, threw his new cell phone over, came back and started screaming. Babbling. Incoherent. I was by "my room" and he was down the hallway. He gave me a strange look and charged at me like a bull. I don't exactly remember what happened, but my body ended up against a wall (I think I was thrown off my feet). 3 large folks had to subdue him and hold him down. I ran and hid in a bedroom downstairs for hours until he found me.

I realized without his words - he wanted to be with me and he knew I never, ever would. The age difference was enough to make it unrealistic. It started to feel very dangerous. When I dated other guys, he got jealous. I realized he couldn't handle me being around at all. The whole thing was a horrible idea in retrospect, and I blamed myself - as my 'roommates' also blamed me. The folks I dated felt uncomfortable around him, and that I was so close with him. I should have listened.

I moved out within the month to SF. He moved with his family to get better. He was mad at me the entire time. He yelled at me over the phone, screaming. He wrote me long letters (I might even still have one or two). He professed his love for me and then quickly started dating someone from around where he was staying. I thought the heat was finally off of me. They moved into an apartment on Telegraph months later. He threw a party and decided to invite me. I thought it would be fine since he had a girlfriend. "Maybe we can make amends" I thought. We started hanging out again. He apologized for everything. He said he was a changed and sober man. They broke up and she moved back home. I didn't realize until later, but it was because we were friends again. She even felt weird about it. But I think a huge part of me felt sorry for him - and he was ultimately like family.

At age 16/17, I got a job on Telegraph in Berkeley, and he said I could go to his house so I didn't have to commute from SF, if I needed to. I was there often enough, but I still felt weird about it. THIS is where my memory gets foggy. I have faint memories of me waking up with him on top of me. I honestly do not remember what happened before or after. All I remember is no lights were on, the sun was going down, it was so dark, and I ran like a bat out of hell, straight to BART/SF. After that, I broke off all contact with him. He turned into that big ball of rage all over again. Yelled at me over the phone, calling me over and over just to scream at me. He said he could not handle me not wanting to 'be' with him. I stopped answering my phone. I quit my job on Telegraph and stayed in SF for several years. I wrote him off forever.

I cannot help but think he took advantage of me. He primed me. It extremely affected who I was and how I had friendships and relationships with men. He knew I had a rocky relationship with my parents, and he took full advantage of it. 

I didn't want it to happen the way it did. I didn't want to admit he was priming/preying on me. I recently found out he had done the same thing with other women, all under the age of 18 at the time. I've told a very similar story to that group about 2 years ago, but it was in a vacuum. 

He needs to apologize to his victims. He needs to admit and he and his friends were wrong.

[deliriousramblings]

My Suicide Note, Part I (or the usual ramblings)

When I reached my ultimate point of desolation, when everything else in my life started to seem like static noise and needle pins sticking through my brain, I talked to one of my friends.

Through stuttered words and incoherent sentences, I tried my best to explain to him what was going on with me, what I was feeling like. What my life has come to and how I perceive everything and everyone around me.

And then I asked him, in Arabic, in a very begging tone: “Am I going to be okay?” 

To which he replied: “Yes, you will be.”

It’s been almost a month now, and I don’t feel like I’m starting to be okay.

It seems like I forgot what it meant to be okay, how it felt to be okay, how life used to be. How myself from mere months ago would naturally feel like, how he would laugh and smile, and be the super optimistic guy he is. It seems like I forgot myself in the struggle.

Because I can’t remember how it felt to sleep with a smile on my face, or at the very least, to not wet my pillow with an uncontrollable river of tears as I use sleep as my escapism tool out of this hellish existence I suffer from.

I can’t sleep properly, yet I sleep most of my days. I sleep to run away and hide from my pain, from my miserable reality, for me being the sorry excuse of a twenty-one year old man.

If I am awake, then I am suffering.

Eyes open, I am crying.

Mind present, I am dying of thoughts.

Mouth open: I have nothing to say nor anything to add.

Nothing I could say could fix anything or help me in any way, it would only complicated things even further, and I don’t need that right now. 

The only thing I can say and be sure of is that I am slowly dying, for the lack of a better term, I am mentally rapidly aging, already on my final hours of living. If I am not physically killing myself then I am internally alive no more.

I wish I could be sure that what I am going through is a phase, but even if it was indeed a phase, it’s a phase very capable of changing me forever, scarring me for life. Leaving nothing behind as it rapidly eats through my soul. 

I have no trust left in my friends, my loved ones, as there isn’t a single one of them who would tolerate me enough to stay and to not dislike me in the process. So what is it to gain when I ruin my relationships? Why should I open up my heart and soul to them, exposing myself any further if they are to leave at any giving point in time?

And more importantly, why should I suffer through all of this in general? Why should I keep waiting and hoping things would change, that  everything will be alright at some point?

There is no honor in suffering. I used to think there was beauty behind the suffering due to my long masochistic nature, but even that is wearing off.

Ever since I took my first breath and I have been doomed with being overly-sensitive, extremely attached, very dependent. I have been cursed with loving too much and caring too much. I have been sentenced to endless cycles of suffering and heartache, of detachment and pain, of being left alone in the end, no matter what everyone else tries to make me believe they won’t just abandon me when I am no longer convenient.

Destined to submit and to give in, to forgive and forget, for everyone to walk all over me and break me with no second thoughts.

To be weak.

So why live a humiliating life, filled with regrets and disappointing, filled with sadness and apologies and begging, with haunting past and menacing future, and a heavy present existent. 

Is it what may befell me through the next life? The fear of the unknown, the dread of the after-life, the endless suffering of the fiery under-world.

The unjust ruling of an unjust God, the unfair nurture of a damned parent.

I am already filled with hatred, hatred that I never realized I could harness. Hatred and disgust and rage.

Oh my rage could fill entire seas, could erupt every volcano.

The rejection of the world, the ignorance of a broken soul.

No more to be humiliated, no more to live a broken existence.

No more to suffer the littlest of things, to cry and to plead.

No honor in my life, no honor in general.

I am tired, so very tired. And for once, I’d like to take a break.

We’re too young to get how replaceable souls are, because they are only replaceable when we are young.

The older you get, the less replaceable people get, The more you age, the more attached you get.

And so its harder and harder by time, not quite easier, never easier.

When you look at a person close to you, you try to determine their value, their worth. Are they worth the suffering and the sacrifice? 

I am my closest person, I am not worth it. It’s too cruel at this point. To suffer and plead and break, it’s too violent and helpless. I am helpless. I am in constant need of approval and affirmation and affection, unrealistic concepts and unrealistic measures for attentions and presence.

There is no point anymore, I’d very much like to fade away from existence, not as someone who lived and ceased to, but as someone who never existed in the first place. Not even a memory, but just ill wind. A phantasm of sorts.

Who am I or what am I anymore, I cannot decide that. 

But I can decide to stop my pain. If needed be. If I wanted to.

This concluded Part I, but I don’t think I’ll be releasing the other parts here due to their extremely personal nature and how I’ll be writing specifically about the people I have known.

This post, however, shall stand the test of time. If I ever manage to take my own life in the next of months or years, this will be an epitaph.

If I survive myself, somehow, this will stand as a warning to what I was going through, to not submit like I usually do. To learn and to move on.

There is nothing else I could add right now and would be of meaning, but there is nothing that I have wrote so far that could succeed in expressing 1% of what I am feeling right now. This has been a complete failure at that.

One thought, one mind:

No honor in suffering.

[nox919]

Semi incoherent/Rambling personal post; I apologize in advance.

Lately I’ve been rather confused as to how I should be feeling. My brain has been receiving way too much input, and I haven’t had enough time to process everything. I’m in a job that I know I’m blessed to have-full time, full benefits, in an essential business that’s got safer conditions than most right now. My bosses are beyond fantastic and I don’t look forward to the day I’ll have to leave them.

But, I *personally* am not essential to the business. I feel guilty that I am still capable of working, and that the office setting is safer than say a grocery store, as we can still operate with minimal client interaction. To add to my guilt, I was simply given this job because I knew someone who worked there when they were looking for a receptionist. No application, no interview, just ‘you better show up’. It was only supposed to be for their busy season, but they kept me on for over two years now and I’ve gradually taken on more responsibilities.

I can’t help but feel ungrateful because even though they’ve done so much for me, I’ve still been trying to find something else that I know won’t be as good to me. I feel bad complaining about something I feel like I didn’t work for. But I’m a night owl; it runs in the family. I’ve been struggling this entire time to get to work every day at 8:30, when I can’t get to sleep til 3am every night. I need something with hours that fit my circadian rhythm, but I know finding bosses like mine anywhere else is damn near impossible.

And to top it of, I’m fully aware that the world is going through a collective trauma right now. And I know others like me who had their mental illness(es) controlled to a point where they could function are once again struggling. But god damn it, I’d just gotten to a point where I thought things were going good. In the beginning of February, I had my mental health in line. I was engaged. (Well, still am, just don’t know how to...tense? that statement properly otherwise.) I had a solid plan to pay down a good chunk of debt, and start saving for the wedding (as feb marks the beginning of busy season). I was so confortable with my plans, I even went and bought a car. Then world went to shit and my mental health with it.

I’ve been prone to fits of anger and frustration because I’ve got no ability to focus left. Things that triggered my PTSD that I had previously been desensitized to are now causing intense flashbacks again. Interest in any hobbies that aren’t mindless consumption (movies, anime, YouTube, etc.) is sporadic, and rarely enough energy behind it to make any significant progress if I do manage to engage that impulse. It’s taken me a good three weeks to type and retype this post to look...somewhat logical, and less word vomit all topics into one tangled blob.

If anyone actually read this whole thing, you’re amazing and I love you. There wasn’t much of a point to this other than shouting into the void and hoping it’s enough to at least ease my mind for now. If anyone has any advice, I’m all ears. Hope y’all are staying safe and sane during these hard times.

[exostan]

Forbidden Love || 3

Genre: Angel!AU, Wolf!AU

Warnings: Mentions of mental illness & smut in later chapters

Word Count: 927

Characters: EXO (OT12)

Pairing: Chanyeol X Sehun

Angels and humans are a forbidden relationship…. but how can you resist when your guardian angel is so adorable and sexy protective

Prev || Next

So maybe I am just a little addicted to Sehun. But only a little. Just a little addicted to his smile. To his laugh. To everything I wasn’t able to see a lot of before.

Maybe I’m addicted to the way he feels in my arms, to his soft noises of contentment when I mess with his hair, to his wolf running in the woods happily.

Maybe.

“Stop staring at me, creep.” He mutters under his breath so none of his fellow students hear him. I chuckle, amused. I gotten used to making myself known to only Sehun. “I can leave.” I offer, jokingly. He looks at me in silent panic, looking like he’s about to flip.

“Hey, I’m just kidding. You sure you’ve been okay?” He nods with a weak smile. “I’ll see you after classes?” I nod, smiling at him. “Don’t worry, pup, I’ll be waiting.” A small whine sounds in his throat before I leave the room.

I wander the halls aimlessly, deep in thought. I remember when my dad passed Sehun as my own assignment. Which honestly was both complicated and not. He wasn’t clumsy like other kids, but he sure acted stupid. Like the one time he snapped back at a kid older than him and bulkier than him.

It’s been awhile since I accompanied him at school. 11 years to be exact. He’s in high school now. Definitely bigger. I hear a screech of sneakers a few hallways down. Pause. Another screech. A slightly longer pause. Again. I take off, the gut feeling starting to kick in.

“Leave pack territory.”

“B-But-“

“You are not in our pack. You never were. Not since your parents betrayed-“

“They were killed, you bastard! Murdered!”

I hear slam echo in the hall and I focus on making myself visible. “L-Let go of me. What are you doing?” Sehun sounds small, scared. “I’ll make you leave even if it means permanently.” I hear Sehun whimper for help as I stalk down the hall, ready to even fly there if I have to. “Who are you crying for? Huh? Your glorious guardian angel? Give it up, Sehun. Admit you were dreaming. They aren’t real.”

Sehun is whimpering, a forearm to his throat, cutting off some air. I immediately take action when I see the knife pointed at the wolf. I pull the, assumingly, alpha wolf back from Sehun, pushing him into the other wall. I knock the knife out of his hand and kick it away. “If I ever see you lay a hand on my wolf ever again, I won’t hesitate the snap your neck, even if it goes against my nature.”

“Chanyeol.” Minseok is staring at me disapprovingly from down the hall. I push off the wolf, huffing before turning to Sehun. A young wolf smaller than Sehun is hugging him, apologizing for leaving him alone. Must be Jongdae. Minseok did mention they went to the same school.  

I walk over to Minseok, disapprovingly. “You knew this was happening to him.” I hiss and he nods with a sigh. “I watched over the both of them, Chanyeol. I can promise it never went this far. Jongdae usually is quick to help but today he got delayed.”

“Still, he’s my assignment. I’m responsible-“

“For some reason, I am starting to think this isn’t about him being your assignment or not.” Minseok interrupts, raising a brow at me. “What are you talking about? What else would it be-“

“You aren’t the kind of person to threaten someone like that. Just- Don’t hurt him. That’s all. Wolves aren’t the same as us.” Before I can reply, Sehun calls out my name quietly, nervous. I turn and crouch in front of him. “Hey, I’m here.” I mutter, worried. “Just remember what I told you, Chanyeol.” Minseok reminds, hand brushing my back as he walks off to find Jongdae.

I ignore him, pushing back Sehun’s brown hair. “Breathe, Sehun. Do you need to go home?” He nods, hyperventilating. I scoop him up, muttering soothing words, carrying him out of the school. The young wolf is whimpering, face pressed into my chest, hands clutching my shirt. I walk him home, avoiding any possible stops.

“Hey, hand me your key.” I mutter, bumping my forehead on his lightly to wake him. He stirs and fumbles for it, beginning to get down. He pulls it out sleepily and I gently take it, opening my arms as an offer to hold him again. He complies, wrapping his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck. His nose tickles my throat slightly before he settles in my arms.

I unlock the door, quietly stepping in and shutting the door behind me. I carry him to his room, carefully pulling back the sheets and placing him in his bed. I tuck him in, brushing his hair from his face. “Chanyeol.” He mutters and I hum gently in acknowledgement. It’s only when he turns and mumbles something incoherent, I realize he’s still sleeping.

He cradles his pillow, whimpering, brows knitted. I weigh my options; aware he is scared to be alone. I yank off my hoodie and carefully lay it against his pillow, cautious to not touch and accidentally wake him. I mentally pray it works because knowing Minseok he would’ve ratted me out to Junmyeon, who would most likely be waiting for me.

Thank the heavens it does. Sehun sniffs the hoodie before cuddling it closer and quieting down. I breathe a sigh of relief before leaving his home to deal with Junmyeon’s lecture.

[sabrinaprotectionsquad-blog]

AU Yea August 18 - Gabriel’s Ghouls and Ghosties

@auyeahaugust

Back at it after having missed two days, was really hoping to get the full month but still, very proud of what I’m making this month.

Day 18 .- Circus This story features Myléne joining a circus run by the kind and generous Gabriel Agreste. What could go wrong?

”So Mylène, tell me about yourself” Gabriel Agreste’s friendly eyes met Mylène’s. He smiled at her in an inviting way, waiting patiently for the nervous girl to gather her thoughts.

Mylène’s hands kept fidgeting with her jacket’s buttons, the man had been so kind to her and now she suddenly felt really anxious about disappointing him.

She looked around at the strange and exotic plants standing in chemistry vials around on his desk and on shelves scattered around the large tent that he called his office. His black top hat sat resting as the only hat on a hat rag, a little worse for wear but only when you looked closely.

As Mylène’s eyes returned to the circus owner, she noticed that his patient friendly eyes were slowly growing impatient as she looked around scatterbrained. She gulped, trying to find the words to answer him.

“Well, I’m 15, no 16! Um… I was born November 1823, so I’m 16” she smiled sheepishly at the kind man who smiled back. She sighed “well as you can see I was born a midget and no matter what I’ve tried I haven’t been able to find anyone who would hire me or anyone who would marry me” Mylène sighed “my parents have always tried taking care of me and they were going to keep doing so, even as they could barely afford to take care of themselves.”

Mylène felt the tears starting to form in her eyes, remembering the pain in her mother’s eye which she’d tried to hide from her for her entire life. She tried hiding back her sobs as she spoke, “I’ve always been nothing but a burden to them and so I decided to run away and join a freak-show *sob* maybe I can survive without hurting anyone… is what I thought…”

Gabriel nodded sympathetically, handing her a handkerchief which she gladly took, blowing her nose. Gabriel waited for her sobbing to subside before warmly telling her “I don’t have a freak-show Mylène, I hire talented young folks from all walks of life. I’ve always felt immense love for people like you. You won’t be paraded around because of your short stature for people to laugh at, but I’m sure we can find a job for you, if you’re willing to work hard.” He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

Mylène doubled over, her crying returning with double intensity at the kindest words she’d ever heard. She slid off from her seat to run around the table, jumping onto Gabriel and hugging him as tightly as she could. She felt  his arms awkwardly closing around her, he was clearly not used to (nor entirely comfortable with) hugging, but Mylène didn’t care, she nuzzled herself against him, finding comfort in his warmth.

Gabriel allowed her to stay like that, softly patting her head as she cried. After a minute or so he began working by his desk while allowing Mylène to take the time she needed.

Mylène finished her bawling, feeling cleansed, feeling like she’d needed that for years and never realized. She looked up with glee at the man who gave her a nervous smile, clearly hoping she was done.

She jumped down from his lap, taking a cleansing breath, she felt like a new woman. “so what do I do now?”

Gabriel smiled “I’ll have someone show you to your new tent, a few other new faces have joined us and you’ll live with them until we figure out exactly what your job here will be. Until then simply make yourself useful, someone always needs an extra hand so just try to be available.”

Mylène nodded “I live to help! I’ll make you proud Mister Gabriel!”

“It’s Doctor actually. Doctor Agreste” he corrected her with a friendly tone. Mylène cocked her head surprised that he would name his show ‘Mr. Gabriel’s Ghoul’s and Ghosties’ if he preferred another name.

“If you don’t mind me asking, if you’re a real life doctor then why run a place like this?” she asked confounded.

He smiled, a hint of regret shining through his eyes “I was working on something really important. Something that would have changed the way we view sickness completely. My wife died from a mysterious illness and I wasn’t able to save her. Since then I’ve devoted my time and resources to figuring out how I could have saved her. However some fools decided that my research was dangerous!” flashes of anger struck like lightning through the kind man’s otherwise calm and friendly demeanor.

He sighed, tapping his finger against the table in frustration, “I was forced to leave my field and pursue different possibilities. Running this place helps give me the funds and freedom I need to continue my research.”

Agreste looked at a strange purple plant with an almost entirely black stem which sat on his desk. He seemed completely lost in thought, morose and a bit frustrated.

Mylène swallowed, sad that she’d put him in a bad mood after he’d helped her so much. She made a mental note of not talking about his past, but looking at him, he really was an amazing man.

She wanted to say something to cheer him up, maybe ask him what his favorite cake was and maybe bake it for him. She was interrupted by someone else entering the tent.

A woman who seemed a little older than Mylène, wearing a beautiful shining suit of metal armor which showed only her face, which was also painted in metallic colors. A strange symbol was painted in red on the front of her helmet. The most striking feature was the large sword she wielded, almost comically big and terrifyingly sharp.

The woman looked down at Mylène with a cold uncaring glare, Mylène swallowed, looking at the drawn weapon, wondering why she would carry such a thing around so openly, hoping she didn’t intend any ill will.

“Ah Riposte, good to see you” Agreste smiled from behind his desk. His friendly demeanor immediately melted away Mylène’s worries, the circus had all kinds of people after all.

Looking over the woman, Mylène couldn’t help but wonder what kind of performance the woman did, something to do with swords definitely.  She was intrigued but knew she didn’t have the nerves to watch such death-defying performances, she couldn’t imagine the kind of steel it took to actually perform them.

Riposte walked up to Agreste, placing a small small jewelry box in his waiting hand. He nodded at it smiling. “Excellent work. Mylène here will be joining our family, please, show her around will you?” he said without looking up from the box.

Mylène watched as he opened up the stopper on one of his plant bottles, he smiled as he opened the small box. Mylène was ushered out of the tent by the woman before Mylène’s curious gaze could pick up what was hiding in the little container.

The woman practically dragged Mylène out of the tent with a stoic, unchanging expression. Mylène gave her an attempted smile but the woman just scowled down at her. Mylène didn’t let it bother her, whatever the others here could do to her, it couldn’t be worse than what she’d already been through. At least here she could find a way to belong.

“So, Riposte? How did you join the show?”

Riposte scowled down towards Mylène through the corner of her eye, walking at a brisk pace towards on end of the camp while Mylène half ran to follow.

The armored woman’s mouth twisted into a disgruntled line before she seemingly decided it was less trouble to simply answer. Her voice was hollow, metallic and cold “I was, and am, unmatched as a fencer. I have never lost a fight. All I ever wanted was to hone my skills and prove to the world that I am the best” Her eyes narrowed with determination and grit.

Mylène listened intently; amazed that such a woman could even exist.

“When my father told me to hang up my sword, get married, have children, I refused. He didn’t take it well.” She grit her teeth with anger “so I challenged him, bested him in his own art. It should have been enough, but they branded me a criminal!”

The silvered warrior looked at her sword with a sigh “the doctor promised me sanctuary, and a chance to dedicate myself fully to the blade.”

Mylène swallowed, she figured everyone here would be like her, but the woman’s story was so amazing. She must be one of the most talented people she’d ever met, and yet she wasn’t allowed to live her life the way she wanted. It was easy to forget that others had it hard too, even people who were born ‘normal’.

Mylène’s own fears welled up in her, “do you ever regret it? Coming here I mean”

Riposte shook her head “only in the beginning.”

Mylène smiled, assured that she too could get used to life here.

“Riposte… it’s a bit of a mouthful” Mylène chuckled “what’s your real na- AHH!” Mylène fell back in shock as the large silver blade struck down into the ground in front of her. She looked up with terror at the glaring eyes of the warrior.

“Never ask anyone here that!” she said with barely contained rage, slowly pulling the sword from the ground.

Mylène swallowed, seeing the deep crevice left after the sword. She tried finding words to say but it only turned into an incoherent stutter. She wanted to cry, to apologize for having offended her, but she couldn’t find the courage to speak.

Riposte looked down at her with a look of cold loathing that Mylène had never experienced before. The silver woman then turned and continued walking in the same direction as before. She took a few steps then looking over her shoulder towards Mylène, still on the ground, fighting back tears.

Mylène understood from the deadly look in Riposte’s eye that she meant for her to follow. The pint sized girl could barely muster the courage to get on her feet, but forced herself up. She followed Riposte through camp, sniffling and sobbing occasionally, trying to hold herself back from crying. Hoping to at least not make the silver swordswoman hate her more than she apparently already did.

They stopped in front of a fairly large matted yellow tent with red triangles adorning it. Riposte opened the entrance and stood, impatiently waiting for Mylène to enter. Mylène nodded nervously at the intimidating woman, entering into the tent.

The flap held open by the fencer fell behind Mylène and she heard the trudging of the metallic boots against the gravel, disappearing off somewhere else. Mylène sighed in relief but couldn’t help but feel a growing sadness that the woman seemed to dislike her, she’d never been good at people disliking her.

The small woman looked around the tent, old but comfortable looking pillows in various colors and sizes were spread out on the floor. Shelves held toys and various intriguing nick nacks, like colored balls, wooden horses and soldiers and a few pieces of jewelry.

Looking around she was shocked to find a young dark skinned man sitting patiently at the opposite end of the tent. Mylène stumbled over herself trying to make up for her rudeness of not checking if she was alone before looking around. “um I… HI! Mylène!” she blushed as the blurted out words sank into the room like the seeds of her awkwardness.

The man chuckled softly, giving her a warm and inviting smile “hi. Max” he mimicked with an amused look in his eyes. He looked to be around her age, maybe a bit older. He wore a nice green west which folded over itself with two buttons on the side, dark brown pants and a small glasses over his eyes. His hair was cut short, and his brown eyes seemed to shine with curious intelligence.

Mylène gave him a sheepish look, approaching him and sitting down on a large pillow which seemed to have at one time been pink, now a matted rosey gray. “hi” she repeated, clamping her hands nervously “I’m new” she shrugged, unsure what else to say.

Max nodded “me too. We just arrived today”

Mylène smiled relieved that she wasn’t the only new face in camp. Max seemed like a nice guy, that would make fitting in a lot easier. His words dawned on her “wait, we?”

Max nodded again “Kim and I came here together. He popped out to explore a bit, he should be back-“

“-Hey Max! Look what I found!” A brightly smiling man around Max’ age but almost twice his size burst into the tent holding a transparent orb, it looked too clear to be a glass orb, Mylène couldn’t guess quite what it was.

The man rushed over to Max, presenting the orb to him with enthusiastic, childish glee. He had dark semilong hair running down the side of his head. He wore a really nice red jacket over a black shirt, dirt covered the knees of his black, fancy pants.  Mylène wondered what someone with such fine clothing was doing in a place like this.

Max corrected his glasses, looking over the orb “is this… a soap bubble?” he asked with an inquizical look.

Kim nodded with childish glee “there’s a bubble-guy here who says he can make soap bubbles that will NEVER break!” The man was practically jumping with excitement.

Max poked at the bubble, it reshaped itself under his finger, but didn’t break “fascinating, while certainly impossible that it’s unbreakable, this is definitely more resilient than I would have imagined a bubble could be. I wonder if he’ll let me study his formula” he smiled, taking the orb from Kim, pushing and touching the orb curiously with his hands.

Kim beamed “I knew you’d think it was cool! I can’t wait to see what other amazing things are around here”

Max nodded “I concur; coming here may go down as your best idea to date. But I’m being rude, Kim, this is Mylène, she too is new here.” Max motioned towards Mylène without looking away from the orb, continuing to experiment with its strange properties.

Kim looked at Mylène with surprise, he’d clearly been so caught up that he hadn’t noticed at all that someone else was there.

Kim plopped down next to Mylène with enough force to send a few pillows (and almost Mylène) flying. He smiled down to her, reaching a hand out and taking hers “I’m Kim! It’s nice to meet you!”

Mylène smiled back, feeling his huge hand enveloping hers. “Mylène” she introduced herself.

“You’re the smallest person I’ve ever seen!” he said fascinated “can I pick you up!?” his eyes shone with the same childlike glee as before. Mylène usually didn’t like being picked up, but then, most people didn’t ask, and most people didn’t have the warm and comforting energy of this guy. She gave him a soft smile and nodded, hoping he was gentler than his radiating energy let on.

While still sitting, Kim picked her up, placing her on his lap and nuzzled her like a teddy bear. “I swear you’re the second most adorable thing I’ve ever seen!” he hugged her comfortingly, allowing Mylène to sink into his warm arms and feel safe. She let herself hug Kim back, feeling whatever worry and discomfort from talking to Riposte disappear.

She sighed contently, hoping these hugs could become a regular thing, a small hint of a thought snuck into her brain despite her self-doubt, if maybe the sweet muscle-bound man would be willing to marry her. She shook the thought and locked it in her fantasy box.

“So what’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen?” she asked curiously, wondering if he already had a girl, but also just curious.

Kim smiled his beautiful boyish smile down at her “Max of course!”

Max sighed with a smile, sitting down next to them, still holding the orb. “you big softy” he chuckled “you’re too much.”

Kim shook his head “the whole point of coming here was that we wouldn’t have to hide, so expect lots more of that!” he boasted proudly.

Max smiled softly, a blush running over his face. He leaned in and kissed Kim lovingly.

Mylène was frozen in surprise, feeling like she should hide her face, as though she was seeing something wonderful and lewd that she shouldn’t. In spite of herself she simply could not look away, especially as Kim’s hand touched against Max’s collarbone, moving down his chest and to his hip, pulling him in closer in an act of intimate passion, the likes of which Mylène had never seen.

She could feel the two boys’ bodies against her as they continued their deep kissing. It was somehow heavenly.

The kiss ended and the two men sat back, their hands finding one another and intertwining softly between them. They seemed unable to look away from one another for a moment, entranced by the others stare.

Kim’s attention returned to Mylène after what felt like too brief of a moment. “so why’d you join the circus?” he asked as though nothing had happened.

Mylène stumbled over her words but managed to tell her story to the men who listened patiently. Or at least Kim did, Max’s focus seemed to constantly fall on the orb, finding new ways to poke and play with it.

Kim nodded sympathetically, “that’s so unfair! Just cause you’re short? Who wouldn’t wanna marry you!?” he said with a righteous frown. Mylène could hardly believe him, he was so wonderfully kind, she couldn’t believe that she’d heard that men who loved other men were wicked, how could they be if these two were amongst them.

“What about you?” she asked, half knowing the answer.

Kim smiled over at Max “well, it’s pretty taboo to fall in love with the help.” He sighed happily, looking at his love “but Max is like an actual genius! I convinced my parents to have him help me with my school work, which, admittedly meant that he ended up making most of it” Kim scratched at the back of his head sheepishly.

Max chuckled “if it weren’t for you lending me your textbooks I wouldn’t have been able to learn half of what I know, I’m incredibly thankful”

Kim nodded “and so we spend a bunch of time together, then we spend even more! And well… look at him! How could I not fall for him” he laughed without a hint of irony.

Mylène smiled, her heart filling with warmth for the sweet forbidden love story. “so did your parents find out?”

Kim shook his head “wasn’t about to wait for them to figure it out. My brother married an English woman and my parents practically disowned him, wasn’t about to tell them I planned to marry a black man. They just wouldn’t understand” he sighed deeply, Max placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

Kim shrugged “still, no regrets! Now I’m a circusman and I’m going to train until I can be one of those strongmen! Until then Gabriel says I can help by carrying stuff, and Max will help with bookkeeping and other brainy stuff!”

Max corrected his glasses, barely able to hide the blush and his growing smile.

Kim pet Mylène’s head softly “can’t wait to meet everyone here properly, they all seem a bit busy but there are some amazing people and they all seem so nice!”

Max cocked a knowing eyebrow “everyone?”

Kim cleared his throat “well yea, sword-lady and I just got off on the wrong foot is all”

“Sword-lady? You mean Riposte?” Mylène asked

Kim nodded nervously “we didn’t exactly hit it off right away I guess. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time”

“Did you ask too many questions too?” Mylène asked.

Kim shook his head “nah, it’s just that when she said she was the strongest sword fighter I had to put it to the test!” he smiled “turns out she’s pretty good, but I held my own!” he said with false pride. Mylène caught Max looking at her, shaking his head knowingly.

Mylène held back a snicker, imagining the boastful boy challenging the terrifying woman and promptly having his ass handed to him.

The three of them talked through the evening, laughing and quickly becoming friends. As Mylène laid down her head on the pillow to sleep she could barely contain her joy. She was so lucky to finally have found a place where she could belong.

Mylène spend the next morning carrying around boxes and sacks. She could barely keep up with the Reflecta twins. Two pink clad clowns who looked exactly the same. In spite of their relatively small frames the two of them seemed to be surprisingly strong.

The two of them moved in perfect symmetry, walking past one another to pick up a box and place it on the cart, the other always at the exact opposite side of the task as her sister.

Mylène couldn’t help but marvel at the amazing dedication and skill on display in their every action, she had to believe that their act was something to behold, she hoped to see it someday.

Looking around she marveled at everyone around her, practicing their skills or working, all of them wearing their costumes, no matter how uncomfortable they looked. She hoped that if she was expected to do the same, that her costume would be a little less exposing than the skin tight suits that most around her seemed to have.

Mylène climbed up some larger heavier boxes to grab one of the ones at the top which seemed light enough for her to manage. She found a shoebox sized wooden box, checking it’s weight and finding it was manageable.

As she took the box and was about to maneuver her way down the stack of boxes, the whole tower suddenly started moving under her feet. She gasped, clutching the wooden crate to her chest, afraid of breaking something precious on her first day.

She felt herself rise quickly and saw to her surprise that the tower of wooden crates she’d been standing on had been lifted, all 30 or so of them at once, including her!

She looked over the stack to see the lifter, her eyes going wild as she saw a man the size of a bear, who seemed to be made entirely out of stone! She gasped in surprise, which made the stone-man aware of her presence.

He looked up at her, equally surprised to see a small woman on his stack of boxes, he gasped audibly, almost dropping her and the whole stack.

Mylène wobbled on the stack, trying desperately to keep her balance but it was a lost cause. She found herself tumbling onto the ground, landing on her shoulder and hearing the distinct sound of glass inside the crate clattering around and shattering.

She got up quickly, looking mortified at the grate, that had definitely sounded bad. She bit her lip, slowly opening the crate, looking away as though seeing it would make it worse somehow. The lid slowly came off of the box and three beautiful white butterflies began fluttering out into their freedom.

Mylène watched them curiously for a moment, enchanted by the insects appearing from such a strange place. She realized too late that she was letting go circus animals, cute and tiny as they may be. She tried grabbing for them but it was much too late, they had already flown towards the sky.

Mylène sighed “bye bye pretty butterflies…” she looked up, unable to be entirely sad that the beautiful little creatures had managed to escape.

She felt a bump through the earth as the heavy stack of crates were placed down relatively gently next to her, she looked back at the stone man who looked down at her with a worried expression.

“Goodness I’m so sorry for spooking you! I didn’t mean to be in the way!” she told him.

The man was truly huge and his skin really didn’t look like a costume, he really was just made of stone! He was like taken out of a fairy tale. His eyes were painted with worry as he looked her over, wordlessly checking if she was hurt. Carefully touching her like she was a porcelain doll with his rough clumsy hands.

Mylène chuckled “I’m fine! Just got surprised is all. Seems I spooked you too, we’ll call it even alright?” she looked up after the butterflies “a shame those cute butterflies escaped though… I sure hope they weren’t important…”

The stone man looked at her with complete surprise, he swayed back and forth slightly.

Mylène looked at him curiously, unsure what he was thinking. She was growing certain that he couldn’t speak, which was a shame, she would have liked to have a less one sided conversation with him.

“Is something the matter?” she asked him in a friendly tone.

He hesitated, then began slowly dragging his large finger into the gravel. When he moved his finger she saw that he’d written a short message for her. She swallowed embarrassed “I’m sorry mister, I can’t read” she admitted, feeling childish and stupid.

He nodded slowly, rubbing his chin for a moment before erasing the message and dragging his finger once more. When he finished this time, Mylène saw that he’d made a simple drawing of stick figures screaming in terror in front of a drawing of himself.

Mylène looked up at him sympathetically “people are usually afraid of you? I understand that.” Mylène sighed deeply “people often don’t react too well to me neither. I’ve never seen or even heard of a man made of stone other than in stories, I don’t think it’s scary, I think it’s pretty amazing”

Mylène smiled up at him shrugging “when you’re a midget there’s no benefit, you’re just ugly and tiny for life… You get to be strong as an ox, and you’re handsome in your own way”

The stone man shook his head with an almost panicked look in his eyes, unwilling to believe that anyone could call him handsome. Mylène could easily read his expression since she knew it well from herself.

He began drawing again, this time making a little drawing of her with a shimmering aura around her like an angel.

“You’re saying I’m pretty?” she asked perplexed.

He nodded sternly.

She shook her head “no I’m not, and that’s ok, I’m at peace with it. Don’t have to be kind.”

He placed his large hand softly and carefully on her head, pointing insistently on the drawing and nodding.

Mylène chuckled “alright tell you what. I’ll try and believe that I’m pretty, if you do the same ok?”

The stone looked at her surprised, looking down thoughtfully for a moment, then smiling to her, nodding.

She smiled up at him “good then! You know, they say that having a heart of stone is a bad thing, but I think your stoneheart is the biggest heart I’ve seen in a long while. I hope to get to know you more”

The giant man smiled softly, nodding. Then his expression changed to a solemn, melancholy one. He looked around to make sure that no one was looking, finding the Reflecta twins already long gone and no one looking at them. He drew a moon on the ground and looked at her with a serious expression.

“Night?” she guessed.

He nodded. Mylène took a moment to appreciate her amazing guessing skills, and people had claimed she had no real talents, if they could only see her now! She chuckled to herself.

The man looked at her sternly and she took a moment to figure out what he meant “you want me to meet you tonight?”

He nodded again, he seemed worried and a bit sad.

Mylène swallowed, putting a soft hand over his enormous stone fist “alright, but no funny business until I’m married alright?” she said sternly, half jokingly.

The stoneman’s eyes went wide with embarrassment as he shook his hands in front of himself in a ‘it’s not like that!’ motion. She chuckled at him “tonight then” she smiled, grabbing one of the smaller boxes and walking off with it.

Later, Mylène found Max, sighing with a notebook in his hands. She smiled as she saw that he’d put the soap bubble somehow on his wrist using a band.

“What’s wrong Max?” she asked, approaching her new friend.

He shook his head “This place is terrible at keeping their books up to date! Many of the boxes are unlabeled and Doctor Agreste told me they sometimes lose stock of what’s in what crate. It’s gonna take ages to catalogue it all”

“Oh… that’s a shame” she felt a small sigh of relief, figuring maybe they wouldn’t notice the butterflies she let loose.

Max shrugged “it’s a challenge certainly, but honestly it means that they are in desperate need of my skills. Makes me feel like I have a place here, not just living off of charity” he smiled down at her, his smile quickly broken by Mylène’s sad expression. “What’s wrong?”

Mylène shrugged “what you said… You’re all so talented. I’m not sure I can do anything to help out!”

Max kneeled down sympathetically putting a hand on her shoulder “we’ll figure something out you can do! With my brilliance and Kim’s creativity we’ll have you working on a job that’s perfect for you in no time at all” he gave her a cheery smile.

Mylène wiped a tear from the corner of her eye “you really think so?”

Max winked at her “I know so! Back before I started tutoring Kim I felt the same way. I was supposed to help my parents but I’m terrible at cooking and cleaning and everything like that. I felt like a burden, but then we found the perfect thing for me and well… you know that it worked out perfectly.” He sighed dreamily “if you’re lucky we might even find you your very own Kim”

Mylène blushed smiling, her thoughts falling on the strange stone man, of course his build was truly strange, but she wondered if maybe it was possible anyway?

“You look like you’ve already met someone” he chuckled with a teasing smile.

Mylène shifted embarrassed “no way!” she softly pushed at his shoulder making him laugh.

Mylène remembered something she’d wanted to ask him. She never liked asking others for help, especially when she had nothing to give in return. She fidgeted with her hands, looking up at Kim with a shy look “say Max… I was wondering. Think you could teach me to read?”

Max smiled “the pursuit of knowledge eh? A noble endeavor no matter the reason. I’m sure you’ll be a better student than my previous one” he snickered.

“Kim was a bad student?”

“Well… not a bad student per se, but he did keep distracting his teacher with his beautiful auburn eyes” he winked.

“Kim!” Max yelled out over Mylène’s shoulder, waving at the approaching hunk of a man.  

Mylène and Max both stared stunned at Kim as he approached wearing a red costume. Large black angelic wings with red stripes running through them. He wore a quiver on his back and held a black bow in his hand. His skintight suit showed his bulging muscles through the red and black fabric and his hair went up in a spike in the front. His costume had a large white broken heart at the front.

Be still my heart, he’s taken, Mylène thought to herself as he approached the two of them, smiling confidently. Mylène looked over at Max who seemed as spellbound as she was.

“So Kim” Max corrected his glasses with a smile, hiding his blush. “Archery then? That’s a good idea, I hadn’t even thought about using some of your gentleman’s sports for a performance. That’s a great idea”

Kim gave an uncharacteristically cold smile, “Call me Dark Cupid.”

Mylène and Max looked at one another with a confused look “well… alright then Dark Cupid? I’m glad you found a persona that would work for you” Max smiled encouraging, “but why Dark Cupid, you’re a lovely angel of love, what’s dark about you?”

The skinny man walked up to plant a kiss on his boyfriend, but was pushed back. He landed on the ground with a pained grunt, looking up with hurt eyes at the person he was willing to sacrifice anything for.

Dark Cupid looked down with cold eyes “everyone leaves you, they won’t be there when you need them most. I can’t save you Max, and you can’t save me.”

“Kim…” Max whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m Dark Cupid!” he snapped, anger roaring in his eyes, his wings swinging out into a broad circle behind him wildly as though they were real.

Dark Cupid looked down at Max’s crying eyes, sadness washed over his face for a moment but was replaced with a terribly pained expression as though he’d been stabbed. He doubled over, groaning in pain.

He gasped for breath, rising again with bloodshot eyes. “Your love for me will only cause you more pain. It would be better if you hated me…” He brought an arrow out from his quiver in a silent, practiced motion. The arrowhead was a black heart, whose point was deadly sharp.

Max looked with pain and fear up at the drawn bow. He stuttered, trying to find the words to convince Kim of his mistake, trying to prove to him how wrong he was, but the words were all trying to come out at once.

“Love is nothing but pain” Dark Cupid let the arrow fly, striking the ground where Max had been just a moment ago.  Mylène was running, having grabbed Max by his shirt and pulled him with her. He’d swiftly stumbled to his feet, running after her, tears flowing from his eyes.

“Get back here!” Dark Cupid’s angry voice echoed out with anger and disdain behind them. They heard another arrow being let loose from the bow, but managed to dodge out of the way in between the tents.

Mylène and Max ducked behind cover, looking at one another with a mix of panic and horrible betrayal.

“What’s going on!?” Max cried out “Kim wouldn’t do this!”

Mylène nodded “I know! Something terrible must have happened!”

Max looked around, trying to piece things together “It’s the Doctor! It has to be!”

Mylène shook her head “it can’t be! He’s the kindest person I’ve met!”

Max grit his teeth at her “wake up! Clearly he did something terrible to Kim! To everyone here!”

Mylène couldn’t believe it, she refused to. She felt the tears welling up and the fear beginning to creep through her, paralyzing her.

“You know” the uncaring voice of the man who had been so kind the day before whispered, “if you’re going to try to hide, I’d recommend not yelling quite so much.”

The tent they’d been hiding behind was ripped away with inhuman strength by the monstrous angel, exposing Mylène and Max. The two of them trembled in each others arms. “Kim… please… don’t do this…” Max begged.

Kim knocked another arrow “sorry ‘honey’, Kim’s not here” he smiled wickedly, taking aim.

“yea well, Kagami is!” a woman’s voice called out behind Dark Cupid, making him turn with surprise. A slender blue haired woman dashed in behind him, a slender sharp blade striking out mercilessly.

Dark Cupid barely managed to dodge to the side, avoiding being cut in half by the powerful swing. “Why you!” Dark Cupid jumped backwards, knocking another arrow. He looked with anger and panic as he found the string to his bow severed.

He looked towards the cold steely eyes of the woman, she wore a full red suit and her blue hair fell down over her eyes almost covering them. Looking at the spiteful glare Mylène’s eyes went wide “Riposte!?” she called out surprised.

Kagami nodded to her a soft smile breaking her expression with a look that was kinder than Mylène ever thought she’d see from the stern woman.

The fencer raised her blade towards Dark Cupid menacingly. The dark angel gritting his teeth in frustration. His large wings folded out and he dashed with impossible speed towards her, wielding an arrow as a weapon. Kagami smiled, easily sidestepping the blitz, her steel contacting his foolish attack.

Dark Cupid fell to the ground, his wing torn by the blade, he groaned in pained frustration.

“Kim!” Max called out worried.

Kagami approached Max and Mylène “he’s not Kim anymore, we have to get out of here before...”

“Before what?” an amused woman’s voice slithered in behind Kagami, making her spin on her heel, readying her weapon.

One of the Reflecta clones walked towards them with a smile, as she walked she seemed to fade out of view for a moment, suddenly becoming two, then four. “Stay a while boy” she looked down at the terrified Max with a sadistic grin, another Reflecta continuing “trust me, it’s better to stay by your lover” another Reflecta continued “than leave them to this fate.”

Kagami readied her blade, standing herself between the army of identical clowns and Mylène and Max “don’t worry, they don’t stand a chance.” She said with no hint of false confidence.

A puff of pink smoke appeared next to the Reflecta’s, another dark clown woman whom Mylène didn’t know appeared out of the cloud. She held a strange gun which smoked with pink and purple smoke. She giggled evilly “I hope you weren’t going to start without me my love” she smiled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Reflecta answered in unison.

Kagami’s stance shifted, her eyes turning into small slits “still don’t stand a chance”

A black panther jumped in to the side of them, roaring wildly before growing into a horrible titanic serpent, at least 7 meters long and with enormous claws and fangs.

Kagami turned towards Max and Mylène “actually maybe we should run” she wasted no time, dashing back towards them at lightning speed and grabbing both of them, jumping in between the tents, attempting to lose their pursuers.

Max was set down to attempt to run while being dragged by Kagami’s hand, his long slender legs swung widely to the sides as he tried keeping up with the impossible dashing speed of the fencer.

Mylène found herself cradled like a child against Kagami’s chest, she hung her arms around her neck, holding on for dear life. With her ear against the woman’s chest, Mylène could hear the panicked beating of the stoic warrior’s heart, showing the fear which refused to creep onto her face.

Mylène saw the scenery dashing past as she traveled at what felt like breakneck speeds through the canopy of cloth and crates that made up the circus camp.

Kagami lead them into a tent, hiding behind a large wardrobe. She went quiet, listening out for sounds of their pursuers, but they seemed to have managed to shake them.

“Shouldn’t we…” Max gasped for breath, trying to stay quiet “exit the camp…?” he wheezed.

Kagami shook her head  whispering “not yet, Animan will be able to track us, we need to take him out of the picture before we can escape.”

“So” Mylène whispered thoughtfully “what happened? How did you return to normal? Can we do the same for Kim?”

Kagami’s teeth ground slightly as she thought “I don’t know what happened. Bubbler, Stoneheart and me just suddenly returned to normal. I got the boys to flee while I went after the Doctor, I found you on the way.”

Max’s shoulders fell “so you don’t know what caused it to end” he frowned.

Kagami shook her head “I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” Mylène exclaimed, being promptly shushed by the other two. “sorry…” she whispered, continuing in a quiet whisper directly into Kagami’s ear “Stoneheart, did he escape?”

Kagami looked down at her “I’m not sure, Bubbler ran towards town like I told him, but Stoneheart headed in towards camp, I don’t know why.”

Mylène gasped “he’s looking for me…” she concluded, her eyes growing wide with fear of the man looking for her while the monsters lurked around the camp.

Mylène looked down at her hand, clenching it into a fist, trying to keep it from shaking. “I have to go look for him!”

“What!?” Max was shushed by the other two, making him shrink back. He continued in a hushed shout “are you crazy!? Did you see what’s out there! Kagami, tell her she can’t go!”

Kagami looked at Max, then at Mylène. She reached in under her clothes and handed something to Mylène, looking down at it she was shocked to see that it was a wickedly sharp looking knife. She looked up at Kagami.

“I refuse to force anyone to do anything. If she wants to go try to save Stoneheart then all I can do is wish her luck.” The stoic warrior looked into Mylène’s eyes with a supportive and even proud look which made Mylène believe that she could actually do this.

Max looked at them, shaking his head “Mylène you must see that this is crazy! Please, stay here, we’ll get an army or something and return! There’s nothing we can do right now.”

Mylène shook her head “I… I have to try.”

Max and Kagami looked after her as she snuck out of the tent. Looking around to find it empty for now. Not knowing how long that would last, she rushed out, trying to get some distance between herself and the others.

Mylène found that many of the tents were spaced apart just enough that she could traverse it, but anyone larger would have trouble walking comfortably. If she snuck between these tents she might be able to go unnoticed.

She could feel her heart beating like a drum, the knife feeling heavy in her hand . She prayed  she wouldn’t have to use it, she wondered if she even could.

She tried remembering the layout of the encampment, remembering where her and the rock-man had made their deal to meet. It was a little hidden away from the rest of camp, he might be waiting there for her.

She heard the sound of running footsteps close-by, she dodged behind a crate, feeling the cold wood against her fingers. She tried calming her breathing, holding a hand in front of her mouth while brandishing Kagami’s knife in the other.

Mylène resisted the urge to swallow as two of the Reflecta clones ran from both directions, meeting near Mylène.

“Where’d they disappear to!” One said frustrated.

“If you don’t know then how would I!?” the other snapped.

“Just keep looking! The doctor will have our heads if they escape!” The first said, clutching her head with worry.

The two gritted their teeth, dashing off in opposite directions. Mylène let herself sigh, waiting for her heart to stop trying to  beat its way out of her chest before she poked her head out to look around.

The coast seemed clear for now, allowing her to sprint from tent to tent, praying with every step that she wouldn’t run into another monster. Another creature whose powers and malice was somehow worse than the last.

She could feel her legs growing heavier with every step, she felt the confidence melting away as sweat began running down her forehead. She felt cold and hot at the same time, the fear of being caught made her blood run cold, making her want to curl up and cry. But she forced herself to keep going, even as she felt the tears pressing against the corners of her eyes.

Mylène begged for everything to turn out alright. For everyone to be safe, and for the stone man to be there waiting for her with open arms.

When she found the familiar path around which was their decided meeting spot, she bit her lip, daring to hope what he looked like, that he was handsome and welcoming.

She darted across the path, seeing the turn before her, then felt a heavy impact against the back of her head. Vertigo took her for a moment, barely feeling herself hitting the ground, then the world turned black.

“Quite the adventure you’ve had Mylène.” The faint comforting voice of Gabriel sank into Mylène’s slowly waking consciousness. She looked up to see the man she admired, looking down on her with terrifyingly cold and angry eyes.

Cold numbness started spreading through Mylène as she remembered everything, she tried getting away but found herself tied down to a chair. She swallowed, looking up at the terrifying doctor Agreste, the last waning hope that he wasn’t behind everything slowly disappearing.

Mylène felt cold and afraid, tears starting to form in her eyes “why…?” she managed to sigh through gritted teeth, tears starting to flow down her cheeks.

The doctor didn’t look at her, he was moving glass and metal appliances onto a table. Amongst them the small box Riposte gave him earlier, and a large glass beaker with a plant in it.

“Why?” he muttered quietly, not looking at her. “I’m finding a way to make people better, immune to disease, strong as ten men and with powers to rival gods. The question isn’t why, it’s how could I not pursue this?”

The doctor opened the box, a small white butterfly climbing sleepily onto his finger. He uncorked the flask with the plant, carefully setting the butterfly onto a branch.

“You’ve temporarily cost me my best akuma, but I’ll get her back don’t worry. When you find clay that perfect, you do not allow it to slip through your fingers.” He looked at her with cold professionalism, but lurking, bubbling anger shone through his eyes.

Mylène swallowed, wondering how she’d been the one to set back his plans. Looking at the butterfly out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark purple color of the plant slowly rising into it, coloring it in black and purple colors.

She looked up at him, a realization slowly dawning on her “the butterflies I let go… They freed the others…”

Doctor Agreste’s eyes narrowed with disgust, but he recomposed himself, pushing his glasses into place and smiling, talking in the same carefree tone he’d had when first they spoke, or at least  a mockery of that tone. “yes well, in a way I have to thank you! I was keeping the butterflies around for research purposes, after I’d used them. Turns out they are much more important than I realized. In a way I have to thank your bumbling foolishness. Without you I may not have learned of this flaw in time to do something about it.”

The butterfly’s wings beat softly, as the last patches of whiteness disappeared from it. The doctor watched the process curiously but unsurprised.

“The others… they’ll stop you…” Mylène could feel herself shivering, she didn’t know what was going to happen but the terror of watching the man in front of her work slowly and meticulously without a hint of fear or worry chilled her to the core.

“I fully intended for them to try” he said coldly, putting together a metal tube, about the size of Mylène’s finger, with many copper colored pieces. “And when they do, I’ll get back my clay.”

The certainty in his voice send shivers down Mylène’s spine. Words failed her as she resigned herself to fall back, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The doctor slowly poked an incredibly thin needle into the butterfly, retrieving a tiny amount of small liquid into the metal tube. The butterfly froze, the purple markings on its body disappearing and it seemed to petrify into stone.

Gabriel admired the tube for a moment “for all the headache you’ve caused I do have to be thankful for one other thing. Your little meeting with Stoneheart allowed me to easily capture the two of you. Foolish young… well is it love? Or just two freaks finding comfort in their mutual horror?” he smiled sadistically.

Mylène sobbed, the thought of the stone-man waiting for her only to be captured like her breaking her heart. If it hadn’t been for her he could have just run away. “How… how did you know?”

“About your meeting? Oh let’s just say that sometimes the camp has eyes.” He smiled as the sadistic chuckling of a young woman echoed through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

Mylène closed her eyes, she couldn’t face this, she wanted to disappear. “you said… you said you loved people like me…” She sobbed, the fact that she’d trusted him hurting almost as much as the horror she was facing.

“Oh, but I do. I need clay for my work you see Mylène. And you freaks supply me with everything I need. That’s the lovely thing about outcasts you see, no one misses them.” Mylène could feel his breath on her face, she whimpered.

“So tell me. How do you feel?” he asked with an amused tone.

“Scared…” Mylène whispered, answering more on instinct than anything else, she opened one eye, looking at the strange man right in front of her face, wondering why he’d ask that.

“Scared? Hm…” Mylène opened an eye to see the doctor stroking his chin. “You know it’s funny, that’s what I expected everyone to feel in this situation, but surprisingly, you’re the first to be afraid. Everyone else have been so angry that it melted away the fear. I wonder how that will affect you”

He smiled a devilish smile he snapped his finger “open her eyes”

Mylène felt fingers touching at her head but there was no one there. Her eyes were forced open and her head was held in place by strong gripping hands.

The doctor kneeled down in front of her, readying the needle. “Are you afraid Mylène? Afraid of what will happen? Afraid because you know deep down that no one will save you? You should be afraid. Stay with the fear, focus on it. It’s going to be the catalyst for your beautiful metamorphosis.” He chuckled, the needle slowly approaching her skin.

Mylène shook wildly in her restraints,  seeing the needle inching closer. She screamed out in horror, desperate for someone to save her.

She wanted to look away, to close her eyes and pretend to be somewhere else, but the fingers holding her eyes open dug into her flesh harder, mercilessly forcing her to see every moment of what was happening.

She felt the needle against her skin for a moment before the piercing pain of it sinking into her flesh. She saw the lever being pushed down on the metal canister, and even though she didn’t feel it, she could practically see the blackness seeping into her bloodstream.

She gasped for breath, looking up at the doctor with wild terror, he returned her gaze with amused curiosity.

Her arm began growing cold, like it was petrifying into ice. She felt the thoughts of terror rushing through her more with every second. She gasped for breath as the unnatural freezing coldness spread through her. Every thought and feeling began melting away only to be replaced with screaming, pain and terror.

Outside of the tent, outside the camp, where Max and Kagami hid, having escaped for now. The sound of terrified screaming carried on the wind towards them. The screaming of a small woman, not screaming for help, simply screaming because it’s all she had left to do.

Kagami’s legs gave out under her, she fell to the ground, holding over her ears and trying desperately to quell the echoing sounds of terror, which at the same time reminded her that she could have saved this woman, and on the other hand allowed her to relive the final moments of pain before Riposte’s birth.

The screaming persisted, the doctor prolonging it as long as he could, knowing the effect it would have on the would be escapees.

The piercing wailing seemed unending, the shrill voice of a small woman slowly drowning away, growing deeper, hoarser and finally, bestial.  The screaming transformed slowly but surely into the hour long howls of a wounded, terrified animal, alone and lost in the world, unsure for now what to do but cry out into darkness.

[absolutelyabby23]

Teaching the Teacher (Logicality)

Pairing: Logicality (Romantic) Prinxiety (Romantic)

Summary: (Hurt/ Comfort/ Whatever this is) Logan knows everything… right? When a certain moral side presents new feelings, Logan must seek help from the other sides in order to get his man. But does he really need to change? The teacher will have to become the taught.

Word Count: 2,442

Warnings: None that I can think of. Some sadness and mentions of loneliness. Please let me know if I need to add anything.

Author’s Note: Feel free to send me prompts for one shots or headcanons! I love to write Sanders Sides. Also the pick up line I used is by my dear friend Frances Poth. She’s very punny!

Logan knew that he was smarter than the other sides. Objectively, of course. He had the most comprehensive knowledge of the universe, from the creepiest vertebrates which ruled the murky seafloor to the glittering array of stars that form the constellations he spent countless nights observing. But that didn’t mean that he knew everything. Every so often, Logan would humble himself and learn lessons that school couldn’t teach you from Thomas and the other sides. It all started when Thomas gave him a set of modern vocabulary words. It made the logical side have an epiphany. There was much more to learn. And he wouldn’t stop until had learned it all.

Virgil and Logan tended to regularly hang out in Logan’s room. The two were perfectly fine sitting in silence while they focused on their respective activities. Logan was often sitting at his desk making the weekly schedule, pausing occasionally to check what effects the plans might have on his anxious friend. Virgil sat on Logan’s bed or sometimes on the dresser if he was particularly stressed and politely offered suggestions when asked. The rest of the time was occupied with flipping through books on poetry and space, tracing his fingers along the crisp ink images that embellished every page. He was also in charge of their shared playlist, expertly choosing calming instrumentals to fill the tranquil silence with a beautiful accompaniment.

Occasionally, a discussion or question would arise and the two would hold “civil” debates. More often than not, screams of “FALSEHOOD!” and hissing could be heard resonating in the hallway. However, Logan and Virgil always made up and continued to meet up. One evening, Logan asked Virgil a rather unusual question.

“What is the function of the dance move known as a dab?” Logan asked with an extremely pensive and serious look on his face. “I know I have expertly executed this skill before. And yet, I do not know what it truly symbolizes.” Virgil was able successfully stifle his laughter after realizing that the logical side was completely serious. Unfortunately for Logan, Virgil was known for his sarcasm that the teacher could not distinguish from his normal language.

“Destroy all bacteria. It’s an acronym,” responded Virgil quickly, thinking nothing of the consequences that his words possessed. Suddenly, Logan sneezed rather forcibly and executed a sharp dab immediately after.

“That should keep illness at bay. Correct?” inquired Logan with a satisfied and somehow incredibly innocent smirk. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. His stoic friend was not only capable of providing a safe and calm environment, but also genuinely making him laugh. Virgil glanced at the clock and stood up, giving Logan some finger guns just like bros do. He walked out with a lighter bounce to his steps. The chill sessions in Logan’s room always left him refreshed and he almost felt optimistic about future challenges. Logan had helped him to believe he was capable of solving problems too. Virgil’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out, immediately being bombarded with a swarm of lyrics and emojis. He lovingly rolled his eyes. Princey sure knew how to embellish. He changed course and walked towards his boyfriend’s room.

Meanwhile, Logan turned back to his paperwork and began jotting down some notes. The test was a success. Virgil was able to provide an answer (if even a joke answer) for any question, no matter how stupid it seemed. He was his close friend. He should be able to ask him about… wait, no. While he trusted Virgil most, the anxious side wasn’t the expert on the field Logan was interested in. He sighed in defeat. He would have to go to Roman.

A week later, Roman and Virgil were sitting on the couch watching the Nightmare Before Christmas for the seventh time that month. Their Disney discussions always came back to that film. Roman was belting lyrics while Virgil softly hummed along, perfectly content with watching the display before him. Logan cautiously approached the living room. Could he really do this? Perhaps this fact was too blunt. Patton skipped out of the kitchen past Logan, offering the logical side a glowing smile. Logan felt a very illogical process begin to happen. The same process he had been going through for months. After much research he confirmed his initial fear. Feelings. He was having feelings and they seemed to be linked to whenever Patton smiled or laughed or said his name. For once, Logan was at a loss for a plan. That’s where Roman could help him. After all, he had managed to secure Virgil with minimal errors. Surely Patton would be a simple case for the romantic side.

Logan shyly walked in the room and turned off the television. The other two sides shouted in protest but silenced when they saw the concerned look on Logan’s face. Once they were calm, Roman gently clutching Virgil’s hand to ease his worries, Logan spoke.

“Hello gentlemen. I believe I am gay,” Logan blurted out before quickly shooting his eyes down towards the floor. That was not the most ideal introduction. The others burst into laughter and Logan could feel his face get hot. Suddenly Roman was next to him, tapping his shoulder amicably.

“Logan, buddy we’re all gay,” Virgil chuckled from his spot on the couch. Logan mumbled something incoherently.

“What was that?” Roman asked, not sure if his suspicions were being confirmed.

“I like Patton. A lot,” repeated Logan with a tone that Roman knew very well. Logan had a crush and he had one bad. “I was hoping you could teach me the art of flirting so that I might obtain a date with Patton.” Roman puffed up his chest and posed with pride. This is what he was born to do!

“Logic? In need of creativity? Of course I will help you!” exclaimed Roman. Virgil looked on in anticipation of a show. This was going to be good. Logan went to his room and came back with a pen and legal pad, ready to take notes.

“Okay so first we must take baby steps. Start with a punny pick up line. Patton will adore that! Right Virgil?” Roman asked, looking at his boyfriend for support.

“You know Ro, puns aren’t really Logan’s thing. At least not on purpose. Are you sure that this is a good idea?” asked Virgil, already knowing full well what the answer to his question would be.

“Of course it is! I’m the love expert! Ok Logan, first you should dress up for your man. A glittery tie might help! Then tousle your hair. Men love the messy look, it’s very hot.” Virgil winked at Roman from the couch through his bangs. Flustered and blushing, Roman continued.

“Maybe you could try some of these. Are you the sun? Because you light up my life,” said Roman, taking on a deeper tone of voice.

“Are you the sun? Because you warm my heart and I wish we could be closer,” mumbled Virgil. Roman’s eyes widened and he quickly swaggered over to the couch and picked Virgil up bridal style. The anxious side let out a squeak of embarrassment and tried to hide before being kissed by Roman and giving in. “That was pure poetry my darkest love. Perhaps you could come up with something like that Logan. The the next step would be a romantic gesture. Like a gift that Patton would adore.” The two continued gazing into each other’s eyes while Logan walked back to his room, looking over his notes. There was much research to be done.

The next morning at breakfast, Patton was whistling to himself while cooking up some pancakes for his favorite people in the whole mindscape. He had set out butter, syrup, fruit, whipped cream, and chocolate chips to accompany the fluffy circles of yumminess. Lastly, he grabbed Logan’s favorite jar of Crofters jam and placed it at the logical side’s place. Just as he finished his work, Logan appeared awkwardly leaning against the wall. His hair was in his face and a red sparkly tie embellished his regular black shirt. Logan could thank Roman for the new tie. Perhaps too much but if it was for Patton, perhaps it was necessary. Patton didn’t know what to say. Logan looked good in everything from his Sherlock gear to his sweater. This was just… new. Logan cleared his throat and spoke in an uneven tone. Trying to sound, as the internet had put it, sexy.

“Hey baby, we must have hydrogen bonding because our connection is the strongest in the known universe,” he said, attempting to wink. In reality, his face contorted in a very unpleasant manner. Patton stood in shock. He didn’t know what to say. Logan saw the look on his crush’s face and assumed defeat. He mumbled and apology and moped back to his room, locking the door.

Roman and Virgil, soon came down and Patton explained what had happened, leaving out his joy that the encounter produced. That wasn’t the most important part. Right now, Logan was upset. Feelings could wait until he was happy again. The other two shared a knowing glance but said nothing. Roman decided to talk to Logan later. Virgil was mentally preparing for an emergency chill session. He would listen to what he could and offer what comfort he knew how to execute. Poor Logan, emotions just weren’t his strong suit.

After a while, Logan heard a light yet chipper tapping on his door and then footsteps walking away. Carefully, he opened his door to see a small stack of pancakes, topped with Crofters. But something was off. The jam was shaped into the symbol inspired by a certain emotional organ. Perhaps Logan misread the signs. Did he actually stand a chance? He knew he had to at least try. Experiments must be finished.

A strange package arrived at the mindscape later that afternoon. Logan was seen grabbing it and quickly retreating to his room. Roman followed him in. The package was revealed to be a big cat puzzle.

“I have obtained the gift for Patton,” said Logan. “I will confess to him tonight.” Logan was now back in his usual attire. It felt good to have the security of his normal tie back. Roman shook his head in disgust.

“No, no, no! This will never work to woo him,” scoffed Roman before conjuring some blue roses. “Try these instead!” Before Logan could protest, Roman was gone once again, leaving the logical side in much confusion. Why were feelings so complicated? Perhaps that’s why he loved Patton, the physical entity of a feeling himself. He was complex, with many layers for Logan to explore. Happiness, sadness, responsibility, and humor. It was all beautiful and it was all Patton. How could someone as wonderful as that ever love someone so… simple? He didn’t understand love so how could he receive it? Perhaps he was meant to function like the android he often suspected he was. Devoid of affection, meant only for facts.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. He opened the door, expecting to see Virgil. Instead, Patton stood holding a NASA mug filled with coffee. His face was crestfallen but quickly lit up at the sight of Logan.

“Hiya Teach. I came to check up on you,” Patton said warmly, handing Logan the coffee. Their fingers lingered for a moment before Logan pulled away, ducking his face, attempting to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Thank you Patton,” he began. He grabbed the flowers from his desk and attempting to discreetly kick the puzzle aside. “These are pretty… just like you.” Patton beamed but quickly turned his attention to the box sticking out from under Logan’s bed.

“What’s this?” Patton asked, bending down to examine the box. Logan quickly stepped in the way and went into full exposition mode. “It’s nothing! Just my dumb idea to get you to like me. But why would you like me anyway? I’m a robot and I know it and you know it as well. Roman tried to help me change for you but I can’t do it alone. I don’t understand love. I just know I love you. Your companionship would be beneficial. And now I’ve made it worse by t-talking too much!” Logan sank down to the floor sobbing. He was too much. Too overwhelming. Patton deserved better. But that’s not what Patton wanted.

“Oh Lo, you’re not a robot. You feel more than you think you do. You care and protect all of us. You and Virge are such close friends that there’s no way you feel nothing. And Roman, well you two are passionate about poetry. Passion takes emotion. As for me…” Patton grabbed the puzzle and handed it to Logan. “I love you just the way you are. And you should love yourself too. Because you’re amazing and I would never want you to change if you don’t want to. I will support you but believe me when I say, you are enough.”

“I thought we could build this together,” Logan sniffled and leaned into the moral side who smiled so wide that it was blinding. So pure and bright.

“That sounds like a wonderful first date!” Patton cheered. He then pressed a quick kiss to the other side’s cheek. They stayed like that for a while until Logan broke the silence.

“Hey Pat? You know how we are gonna do that puzzle together? Maybe we could learn some things together as well… like about relationships and love.” Logan tried to play it off smooth. Patton had set their first date, but he wanted to try his tactics as well.

“Is that seriously how you’re going to ask him to be your boyfriend?” joked Virgil from the doorway. Princey would kill him later for ruining the moment, but the timing was too perfect. Secretly, he was proud of Logan for being so brave, and would be sure to tell him at their rescheduled meeting.

“Yes and I think it’s wonderful, just like Logan. Now go to bed kiddo,” said Patton putting on his dad voice. Virgil faked an eye roll dripping with attitude and left. “Now about that puzzle,” he said, turning to Logan.

“Onesie date time?” Logan asked, inferencing Patton’s next move.

“Absolutely!” giggled Patton as he kissed his boyfriend. They would go on to be very happy together. Patton helped Logan be okay with himself and know that he was perfectly valid even if he understood facts more than emotions. And Logan treasure one fact above all. Patton loved him and he would always love Patton. Even more than Crofters jam.

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!): @completelyclevername

@monstercupcake61176

@sander-sideblog

@trashypansexual

@sanders-sides-thuri

[crucifythenburn]

I mean …

This is gonna be all over the place and inarticulate af because I’ve lost my patience and I apologize in advance but… Can we just be adults and go ahead and admit that Flint abused the fuck out of Silver FIRST? And their relationship has ALWAYS been tumultuous and selfish and unhealthy and intense and frayed from BOTH ends and that THAT is basically the allure of their entire dynamic? What they grew to mean to each other? Their codependency? Their support? Their differences and how they worked together toward a common end DESPITE them? Can we all agree that there was some serious mental illness and emotional damage hindering BOTH characters and that THAT explained a whole hell of a lot of their dynamic to begin with? The fact that they could reach those places within each other that were locked away for years? The fact that two broken people could find even small measures of solace within, at the very least, the concept of each other? The fact that the complexity and growth and trials of their relationship mirror reality for so many? These two fucking people transformed each other, but y'all wanna sit here and be reductive as fuck and demonize their entire relationship and I’m so tired.

I mean… stripping Silver of any and all redemptive qualities while woobifying Flint is fucking beyond my comprehension tbh, but I'ma beat this dead horse anyway because fuck alladat! Yeah, everyone is entitled to their interpretation of the material. My only issue is the disrespect for the relationship that basically made the entire show.

I mean… There is not ONE relationship on Black Sails that is presented without involving some type of betrayal. Not. One. Except the PAST relationship that we got all of 15 collective minutes of: James/Thomas. So while I understand the purity standard here, let’s not forget what this show has tried to present regarding its relationships. They’re complicated. They’re strained and unhealthy because people are strained and unhealthy. But they have their redemptive moments. So if you can’t respect Silver and Flint then you can’t respect Max and Anne. You can’t respect Vane and Eleanor. You can’t respect Max and Eleanor. You can’t respect Jack and Anne. And you certainly can’t respect James and Thomas, because if you do not believe in the redemptive qualities of love, then there’s no fucking way in hell you can sit there and say Thomas forgave James for the fallout surrounding his own psychodrama. You can’t respect any relationship that has not been perfect cuddles and you’ve missed the point of the show entirely.

I’m not equating what anyone did to anyone here. I get it. It’s easy to make Flint the hero and Silver the villain. It’s easy to wage a war for righteousness. It’s easy to discount the lives of those on the wrong side of history. Fuck em. I feel the same tbh. But Silver is who most of us would be in that situation, like it or not. He is who Vane warned us about. He is the average man. The meek. The coward who would trade in their freedom for their protection. He is who a lot of us have been during these times of civil unrest and upheaval. And I get the categorical hate of him, but that doesn’t make the Silverflint relationship invalid. So what we NOT GON DO is sit up in here and act like Flint is perfect and never abused Silver, and Silver is simply a monster. Not on this blog.

Look, you don’t have to ship anything you don’t want to ship. You don’t have to like it. Shit, you ain’t even gotta understand it, my g. All I’m saying is that nobody on this show is innocent and none of the relationships we hold dear are without their abuses. (One could even argue that James killing Thomas’s father is a betrayal, revenge porn aside. We will never know how Thomas feels about that.) But if you’re going to hold the biggest ship on the show up to James/Thomas standards, hold all of them up to those. Why wouldn’t you?

I mean… it’s easy to shit on Silverflint because that’s where most of the material is. That’s where the stakes are the highest. That’s where there is the most fallout and that’s where you find the driving force of the show. But when you take away all the fallout, all the consequences placed upon people that never asked for them, all that pain and confusion and emotional instability and mental illness come to light. And I think that’s why people are so wildly defensive of John Silver. It isn’t condoning what he did. It isn’t excusing his actions. It’s affording him the same understanding that we afforded James when he burnt down a city, that we afforded Eleanor when she sacrificed Max for Nassau, that we afforded Jack, and Max, and Miranda when they betrayed the ones they loved.

If we were given Silver’s sob story, as we were given Flint’s, would we feel differently about him? All consequences aside? If we can extrapolate that James and Thomas loved each other based on fifteen collective minutes, and that James would WAGE a war against the very concept of civilisation as a result of that love, why then can we not understand that Silver would risk anything, and STOP a war that could go on forever for those he loves also, based on four seasons of character development? Why is he not held to the same standard?

Again, this is all over the place and I apologize as I’m tired and probably incoherent, but y'all are irritating af. I’m not gonna argue. This is just my catharsis. Block me. Vague post about it. Make your assumptions about me and what I support and condone and the kind of person I am as y'all love to do on here. Do whatchu gotta do. I said what I said.

In the end, Silver and Flint’s relationship was complicated. THE WAY ITS ALWAYS COMPLICATED WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE. Jfc, just let people enjoy shit yo.

[physics-dirtbag]

I think most people have some type of list (mental or otherwise) of what they look for in a partner. When I was younger, I found this difficult, as I was quick to accept anyone who paid me the slightest of attention. Now, due to my stubborn independence and discomfort around most individuals, instead of a list, I set barriers. I feel that I will never form an enduring, strong friendship nor a relationship. I find that even considering relationships of any variety takes away from who I have pictured myself to be. I have deliberately stripped the humanity from the image I hold of myself and to acknowledge the need for human contact juxtaposes this image. However, despite my current stubbornness (for reasons I will explain below), I eventually made my list:

Must be accepting of plentiful, vast periods of silence

Must be accepting of inexplicable existential rants that are often times illogical and incoherent (and perhaps specious at times)

Must be accepting of limited contact of certain forms (I apologize for the vagueness of this tenant, although this is subject to change and I am currently uncertain in this regard)

Must provide unconditional, (mostly) nonjudgemental support in some instances and a fearlessness vast enough to snap me out of bouts of ignorance or depression.

Of course, I know of no one who fits all of these, and do not expect to. I consider the list to be superfluous anyway, as I currently seem to be emotionally vacant. Although infinitesimal, all of my current skill and energy in the emotion department is employed in deciding whether or not I want to live inside of my mental illness for the rest of my life. The quandary in this is of worth: What makes life worth fighting for against what I have found comfort in?

Is it love? Is it friendship? Is it brief glimpses of happiness?

He taught me that a friendship (call it what you may) is possible. I wish I remembered more of it, but the bits and pieces I have I will treasure forever. His slight kiss goodbye for the last time, the letters and notes we wrote (not of love, of understanding), our forbidden handholding that was simply a few fingers… I don’t think it was love, however it was significant. I have truly never wanted to write of relationships of any variety, but he changed my mind. I wrote my list. I found my answer.

It is curiosity. It is learning. It is experiences.

Most importantly, it is possible.

[xtruss]

Nursing Home Mogul Philip Esformes Sentenced to 20 Years For $1.3 billion Medicaid Fraud

Former Illinois and Florida nursing home mogul Philip Esformes wept and pleaded for mercy Thursday before being sentenced to 20 years in prison for what the U.S. Justice Department called the largest single health care bribery and kickback scheme in American history.

— By David Jackson and Mario Ariza Chicago Tribune | September 13, 2019

Chicago Tribune reporter David Jackson explains how wealthy nursing home operator Philip Esformes allegedly became the orchestrator of a $1 billion Medicaid and Medicare bribery and kickback scheme. Oct. 4, 2016.

Former Illinois and Florida nursing home mogul Philip Esformes wept and pleaded for mercy Thursday before being sentenced to 20 years in prison for what the U.S. Justice Department called the largest single health care bribery and kickback scheme in American history.

A separate hearing will be held in November to determine the amount of money and property Esformes may be required to forfeit.

Esformes, who once controlled a network of more than two dozen health care facilities that stretched from Chicago to Miami, garnered $1.3 billion Medicaid revenues by bribing medical professionals who referred patients to his Florida facilities then paid off government regulators as vulnerable residents were injured by their peers, prosecutors said.

He housed elderly patients alongside younger adults who suffered from mental illness and drug addiction — sometimes with fatal results. In Esformes’ Oceanside Extended Care Center in Miami Beach, “an elderly patient was attacked and beaten to death by a younger mental health patient who never should have been at (a nursing facility) in the first place,” prosecutors wrote in a pre-sentencing memo.

As he handed down the sentence, Judge Robert N. Scola Jr. said the length and scope of Esformes’ criminal conduct were “unmatched in our community. ... Mr. Esformes violated the trust of Medicare and Medicaid in epic proportions."

But Scola meted out a punishment significantly less than the 30 years prosecutors requested, saying Esformes also had an extraordinary history of helping people in need. Attorneys for Esformes had described him as a selfless philanthropist who had donated more than $15 million to synagogues, schools and needy individuals, often anonymously.

Said Scola: “I think he should get some consideration for his philanthropy, although it’s dangerous to say because he was stealing money from Medicare, so people might say he was giving that money to charity. But the vast majority of the money he made, he made legitimately. More importantly he was a true friend to people known and unknown to him, and that is worthy of mitigation."

In arguing for a 30-year sentence, prosecutors said his yearslong bribes-for-patients schemes involved the corruption of medical professionals and government regulators, and entailed grievous injuries to a massive number of elderly patients.

“Miami is the epicenter of health care fraud, there was no one like Philip Esformes, he was king,” prosecutor Allan J. Medina told the judge in court Thursday.

Many of his younger, drug-addicted patients spent the daylight hours wandering the streets of Miami while he collected government payments for services that were never delivered, prosecutors said.

“Phillip Esformes used deceptive and calculated means to orchestrate a fraud of the magnitude that we have not seen before,” Medina said. “People who needed to get better, who wanted to get better, they had no shot.”

“His fraud involved thousands of patients, 16 nursing homes, the systematic payment of bribes, a complex web of bank accounts, and brazen obstruction of justice to try to prevent it all from coming to light,” prosecutor Elizabeth Young wrote in a sentencing memo filed with the court this week.

Esformes, who has been in maximum security detention for 37 months since his 2016 arrest, called himself a shattered, repentant man when he stood before the judge. His shoulders drooped beneath his baggy khaki prison shirt as he began rocking back and forth.

“I want to apologize to, your honor, the United States. Sorry. And my community.” As Esformes began to recite the names of his children, he briefly became incoherent. Groans and cries of “Oh God!” escaped from his family and supporters in the gallery.

“I’ve lost everything I love and cared about with the utmost intensity," he said. "There is no one to blame but myself, me.”

While preparing his defense, Esformes told the judge, he had listened repeatedly to wiretapped conversations that revealed him arranging bribes. “I am disgusted by what I heard,” he said, at one point pounding a courtroom podium with his fist. “The Phil Esformes you heard was reckless ... an arrogant man.”

Philip Esformes

Esformes said he was studying the Torah and praying for redemption. “I won’t miss that opportunity,” he said.

Prosecutors said Esformes should be forced to pay $207 million in restitution to Medicaid and Medicare; attorneys for Esformes sharply questioned that amount in court Thursday.

Judge Scola closely questioned prosecutors about how they calculated the value of the Medicaid proceeds Esformes stole over the years, ultimately finding the loss to be between $4.8 million and $8.3 million.

Federal authorities arrested Esformes at one of his $2 million estates on the Miami Beach waterfront in 2016 and immediately placed him in the Miami Federal Detention Center.

At the time, he had a net worth of $78.9 million in bank accounts and investments, and hardly any debts, according to court papers filed by prosecutors. He maintained a Chicago Water Tower penthouse and a mansion in Los Angeles.

Esformes was deemed an extraordinary flight risk in part because he had been caught on a wiretap offering to help his business partner Guillermo Delgado flee from the U.S. to avoid prosecution as the federal investigators closed in on them.

Delgado, who helped Esformes defraud Medicare for mental health and prescription drug services, instead helped federal investigators bring Esformes to justice. He and his brother Gabriel Delgado are now serving prison time.

In one of Esformes’ crimes, prosecutors said, he used some $300,000 in stolen Medicare and Medicaid proceeds to bribe the head men’s basketball coach at the University of Pennsylvania to admit Esformes’ son to the school.

That coach, Jerome Allen, pleaded guilty in October to a money-laundering charge related to the Esformes bribes. He testified as a government witness against Esformes at the Miami trial. Allen received a probationary sentence and is now in his third season as an assistant coach with the Boston Celtics.

The dozens of nursing facilities Esformes ran with his father and business partner Morris Esformes for decades earned millions of Medicaid and Medicare dollars annually despite repeated federal law enforcement probes and Chicago Tribune investigations alleging substandard care and incidents when disabled patients were assaulted by fellow residents.

“Instead of changing his ways or expressing remorse after these settlements, Esformes simply altered his criminal scheme to avoid detection,” prosecutor Young wrote in the court filing.

Esformes sold his Illinois nursing facilities in about 2012 but kept offices in the Chicago suburbs as he continued to operate homes in Florida with his father, government records and Tribune interviews show.

David Jackson has been a Chicago Tribune investigative reporter since 1991, except for a year at The Washington Post, where he shared the 1999 Pulitzer Prize for public service for articles on citizens shot by police. At the Tribune he is a 4-time Pulitzer finalist

— dyjackson@chicagotribune.com

— mariza@sunsentinel.com

[imnotsurethatwastheirvision]

SLENDERMAN

Some friends were talking about the new Halloween movie yesterday, which I still haven’t seen, so I went to the old Redbox today and unfortunately they didn’t have it so I got ‘I Feel Pretty’ and ‘Slenderman’ instead because why wouldn’t you do that?

There are actually quite a few reasons to maybe consider some other choices but the damage is done and obviously I got some stuff to rattle on and on about!

I’m not even going to start with ‘I Feel Pretty’. At two different points I shed tears while simultaneously laughing at myself so I’m just glad I still got it. By it I mean feelings and, just, thanks Amy Schumer! 2018 was a little rough!

So. Slenderman. I’ve actually been wanting to see this for awhile because it’s basically the modern-day version of Bloody Mary.

Before I get into my signature incoherent rambling, I do want to cite just one study because I. Can’t. Help. Myself. Also, it does tie back into what I am going to ramble about later so I. APOLOGIZE.

The study I read was published out of Duke University in May of 2018 however the findings seem like maybe something that was unofficially yet obviously already well-known.

Researchers used brain imaging to observe brain activity and came to the conclusion somehow that when the visual cortex of your brain has a hard time communicating incoming stimuli to the brain networks involved in focus and introspection your probability of having a super shitty time could potentially increase as they found that basic malfunction increased a person’s chances of developing one of the common mental illnesses.

Again, I do want to stress the word common there, and then maybe make the leap to “Maybe everyone’s nuts now because the world is just getting so exponentially fucked that we’re just all kind of doing our best to make sense of things.”.

Seems reasonable. A little doomsday for me. I implore you to take a look around at your own micro-environment, and the people that you give your time to. You’ll figure it all out unless you are the actual movie characters in ‘Slenderman’ because these kids had a tremendous time! In like, the worst way.

If you’re unaware of what Slenderman is, basically, if you are a teenager you are supposed to go to this website, watch an epileptic-unsafe video, then go to the woods in blindfolds and do something and then a church bell chimes three times and then Slenderman appears and ruins your life.

Classic!

Not that I need to say it but to refer back up to that study on brain health I read I guess if you witness something just too fucked-up for whatever your personal situation is visually and then you are just unable to make sense of it afterwards a study suggests that maybe you’ll have the opportunity to dabble in something that affects millions worldwide. I mean the kids in this movie were just devastatingly affected so it must obviously be a fucked-up video.

I mean I get it, have you been on YouTube lately?

“What about if you hear something? Did they look into that in that study? Because remember Slenderman had the three bells and then the cicadas thing!”

Oh, right right! The study actually only focused on the visual cortex, however, just from personal experience, here’s a tip: Selective hearing is a truly useful skill.

So, back to Slenderman. I could go on and on about how the film attempts to shine a warning light for young people on the dangers of the Internet (like sex trafficking, drug experimentation taken too far, and terrorist/militant/radical group recruitment techniques, etc. etc. etc.) and remind everyone on my theory that every horror movie is a comedy because it’s just making fun of mental illness.

You know, all that growing-up stuff.

However, you’ve likely heard all that already so I decided to watch this film through a different lense.

Let’s make it about eating disorders and body dismorphia! Those are both mental illnesses AND I said I wasn’t going to even start with ‘I Feel Pretty’ but it’s indirect so technically I’m not lying.

The movie starts with a group of four bratty teenage girls who know thier way around the hallways, if you know what I mean. They exchange high school banter with an equally matched group of thier male peers and get the idea to summon Slenderman that night in thier gender-segregated groups, instead of getting someone’s older brother to get them beer and driving out to a field to play “Let’s see who can have a baby in high school!”.

Well, the guys chicken out but the ladies summon Slenderman, like, super hard, and then he comes and ruins them.

Bitches, Slenderman is anorexic as fuck. He’s the hangriest person alive to the point that his malnutrition has turned him into a literal monster. I know you’re freaking out but did any of you consider making him a sandwich? No. No you didn’t because you only think about yourselves. Maybe his fingers wouldn’t be so long, bony, and terrifying to you if he wasn’t living on less than 300 calories a day. His brain is so starved of nutrients at this point, because he’s already gone through all of his body fat and then now maybe a little internal organ meat, the guy doesn’t even know what the fuck he is doing. I’m sure he didn’t *intentionally* make that video to mentally ruin as many high school kids as possible due to that time literally everyone chanted “bitch tits” at him relentlessly in study hall sophomore year.

Also, give this some thought: Slenderman’s face is always covered. How do we know it’s not Slenderwoman, or, to be completely fair, Slenderperson? Remember when you four bitches were sharing laxitives in the bathroom and Stephanie asked for one but you just ignored her because even though she is “doing really well for calories this week” (she’s obviously, like, only eating cheat meals) she’s still way too fat to be committed so you’re not wasting a laxative on her.

Anyway, something, something, something about the pressures to fit in and suffering in silence and dangers of being cool but then just as much shout-out of warning to take it smart and slow when being kind to anyone and everyone regardless!

[kosmicdream]

On a possible light note....did Simon ever get that spike dick???

Uh YEAH. for like.. what.. 20 solid years???? then on and off during the 30 years that followed. Knife and Spoon didn’t live together anymore during those last 30, tho.. But, they’d have a tumultuous secret confusing drama romance. Like..Sometimes Knife would just show up in Spoon’s apartment!!! at 3 am after giving Spoon the cold shoulder for like 3 weeks. This was both terrifying annoying and terrifyingly erotic for spoon, he was conflicted.

LET ME TALK IN DETAIL ABOUT SPOON AND KNIFE’S RELATIONSHIP THAT U PROBABLY DIDNT ASK FOR HEY-O.. ITS VERY LONG.. and detailed.. idk i just wanted to talk i guess

See like. the thing that happened… the MANY things that happened.. is that Spoon wasn’t kicked out of the apartment at -first.- He really tried to give it a shot… after being threatened.. But.. he couldn’t stop himself from being, bad. At the whole.. Being around a kid thing. Altho fork at first, was more of a weird pet furball dog?? Who was violent and like, Spoon had no patience for discipline. What made it worse is that Knife straight up wouldnt ever allow kissies and stuff around the kid. And they barely had any privacy cuz fork would just show up in bed!!!!!! so like. Spoon was almost 24/7 vibrating with lack of not only sexy touchies but also regular affection couple touchies. It was only for SPECIAL private times and that was really difficult w/ a hyperactive kid that is constantly getting into trouble. So for Spoon, It was a little unbearable…

His brain would be just firing off sexy scenarios CONSTANTLY which made knife be like CAN YOU NOT THINK ABT THIS.. ALL THE TIME because, knife’s basically a telepath. but spoon just couldnt not think about it. and then to make it worse is that Fork seemed to be able to sense Spoon’s feelings too and like. That freaked Knife out a lot. He did not want that around Fork.And like.. Spoon understood that a bit…kind of.. That he was a bit much. So he agreed to move out. He tried to make it seem like he wasnt being forcefully kicked out but it still kinda was because he wasnt allowed back without Knife’s approval. Knife also didn’t like to listen to Spoon’s opinions on how to raise the kid. So it made Spoon feel more like he was not involved anyway. Spoon was angry at knife like why did u even want me here in the first place huh?

And at that point their relationship was so vague, weird, Spoon didnt know if he was in the process of being dumped or maybe he had already been dumped and like.. he was so upset.. Anyway, Spoon started to sleep around because he could not handle the lack of attention anymore. He and Knife were very like.. exclusive? Romantically/Sexually.. And well. Knife didn’t appreciate this. He inferred it as cheating even tho they were sort of on “break.” Spoon felt very guilty over it but he tried to make his case that he made it very clear he wasn’t able to … do this!!!! be so exclusive while also not getting enough attention!!! Long distance flirting texting random nightime or office hookups are fine but it was always determined by Knife’s schedule and Knife’s schedule is random, incoherent and vague as fuck.

The thing that Spoon was always confused about is that Knife, the most serious about his rules and forgives no one, always.. kinda let.. Spoon get away with things that he thought never would..fly? like.. Basically Cheated on Knife by sleeping w/ other people.. yet.. Knife didnt cut Spoon out of his life. He’d get upset n not talk to him for a while but then theyd go back to talking every day, all day (They texted a lot even after Spoon moved out.)  N knife would try to adjust things abt their relationship while also not .. expressing why he felt hurt about certain things and that made it difficult for the healing to actually HAPPEn because spoon could not get him to directly open up, just would have to read between the lines to discern how Knife felt.. n Knife would apologize abt not being able to say things. then Spoon would be like well!!! its really me who should be apologizing! im the one who fucked up. hahaha.

But he couldnt. He didn’t know how, still. (That’d be the closest thing he could do besides pointing out how bad he was all the time.)

…..There’s a lot more to this part of the story, but I’ll save it for the comic.

Knife/Spoon were still very much a couple even tho they had difficult barriers between themselves (and living separately) for those 30 years following Fork’s arrival. Spoon wasnt exclusive to Knife w/ his sex life anymore but he still didnt.. even get crushes on anyone else. Cash was p much the closest thing because he grew to care abt her a lot.. but they were just best buddies.

Knife seemed to have no one else.  (Did he? who knows…) Once Fork got old enough he would try to get dates for Knife b/c he could tell his dad was incredibly lonely but, Knife was Knife and didn’t like anyone. He only wanted Spoon. He spent many nights laying in bed alone and with his hand patting the empty space next to him and wondering when Spoon would just officially move on to someone else. Part of him probably even wanted Spoon to do that, because it would be “better” for Spoon. But that feeling would also make him sick.

As Fork got more independent he felt more and more useless as his caregiver and wondered how he could piece his romantic life back together w/ his special person, knowing it could never be how it used to be. Wanting to just go back to how it was, somehow, While still including his new life in it. Knowing that he didnt know how to juggle his new insecurities and jealousy involving Spoon. He didn’t really know how to feel attractive anymore.. that was weird again. (it always is a bit weird but now it was just bottom of the barrel.) Spoon had so many friends now, maybe even more than he did before. He was popular around the office and Knife didn’t even bother doing his laundry anymore, now that Fork moved out too. Then Spoon would comment on that (with concern but also kind of teasing) and he’d feel embarrassed and sulky and go mope on the roof like a brooding anime guy. He didn’t even know why he was there. He felt useless to Fork and Spoon. He couldn’t even ask his own dad for advice because the dude mentally evaporated hundreds of years ago and there was No way he was going to ask Cash for help. Especially when Spoon was currently fucking her!!! lol!!! He fucking hates that robot, honestly. That has never ..changed in all this time.

Fork saw the signs better than Spoon did. He tried to push Knife to talk abt them and would show up at Knife’s place to cheer him up. Hed even stay over a few days and suggest living w/ Knife again. But Knife didn’t want that either. and it was extra awkard whenever Fork wanted to bring ppl over cuz Knife Didnt Like Noisy Company At All. So Fork had to just respect his NotmyDad’s wishes and give him space. Fork even tried to ask Spoon about ti and Spoon was mostly offended that Fork somehow could tell “something was up” as if FORK knew KNIFE better than him. Excuse me?????????? Fuck you Ill always hate you stupid hairball who ruined my life flips a desk kicks a foot stomps out of the room bitterly

Fork: SOMEONE JUST! LISTEN ! TO! ME!!! HELP! ME HELP! KNIFE!OR HELP KNIFE! SOMETHING DAMN IT!

Then Knife… vanished and Fork was like shit I knew it and Spoon unraveled .. and unraveled……..and eventually Boom’d as more reports came in that he was likely dead. Bad bad times.

BUt hey as we all know Knife is actually alive so let’s see how this all turns out huh?