#as per usual after a gp I ended up with too many!!

[sainz100]

some Max moments from the 2024 US GP

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

PR stunt relationships - ɟ

🎶🎶 Guess who’s back, back, back? Back again, gain, gain 🎶🎶

Heeello, my babies! 🥰 How are you? I hope you’re all fine and that you’re staying strong since, as we knew and expected, they’re literally attacking us every day with these PRs. And today’s topic is precisely about this. PR-stunt relationships.

What do I know about- What do I know about love? Nothing. And that’s why it’s everything. Sorry, I had to 😅🤣. Shout-out to ‘What Do I Know About Love?’ by CC. No but, seriously tho. What do I know about a PR stunt relationship? Again, I’m not an expert on the subject. I know as much as you do, plus, maybe a little bit more due to my research over the years.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

PR stunt relationship, also known as PRomance, showmance, fauxmance (👈🏽 cover for celebrities who are both queer), and also as 🤫😂 ‘extremely camera-ready relationship’. I can personally define a PR as a work of persuasion. Picture PR people as shapers, as narrators, as storytellers, because that’s what they do. Whether it’s for protection, or to build or rebuild an image, or simply for promotion, they analyze the situation in order to create the best publicity/narrative/farce that benefits their client. They each have their own vision. Each of them has a plan that they sometimes tend to repeat with other clients because it works. Take as an example our friend Scooby Doo Sc**ter (Br**n), who is making it increasingly normal and common for his clients to use engagement rings as narratives.

A PR stunt relationship is nothing more than a PUBLICITY STUNT, as the word itself implies, aimed to get people and media attention. Publicists and celebrity management managers set up a fake public relationship to make fans and the general public believe it’s true. To give the couple more credibility, also friends, family, and artists friends of the couple get involved many times. To give you a practical example, let’s take PRen Tyren. They were at least 80% involved in each other’s lives.

Think about their birthdays and all the friends and families involved. Think about when Tymber even went to Graciela’s birthday, L’s great grandmother. Think about Tyres and brother Jauregui (who even made a song out of it with him). Think about L and Angel Gold (his sister). Think about L and Jailynn (his daughter). Think about The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, aka Tyren and, I think they were called Galsey? (Halsey and G-Eazy). Think even about Dinah who was part of the PR. I mean, you got it, right?

This type of business, whether involves the music industry, the film industry, the sports industry, etc., works this way for EVERYONE. They get at the same goal but with different tactics for each individual person, and they give a damn if in the meantime the person, their client, is bullied, or hated, or if they receive death threats, or if they start having anxiety problems, panic attacks, mental or physical health problems, etc. They don’t give a shit about their well-being in general. It’s just business to them. They’re just money with two legs. Can you picture a rolled-up dollar with two legs, can’t you? Good, because that’s what they are. Products. Products to sell.

There’s a very strict contract that both parties have to mutually agree on, and this contract is called a relationship contract. A relationship contract is a legally binding document for the duration of at least one year. It’s very VERY own custom-made because they write down what do they want to happen, then the duration (which can be extended) and the termination, and all the other things that each of them wants to include. The duration of a contract obviously varies from person to person and can depend on many things. But the main thing is that, it depends on the type of goal they want to achieve thanks to it.

For example, if the purpose is purely publicizing, such as the promotion of an album, or a movie, or whatever else, the relationship will last only for the necessary time that it takes to increase the interest of the public and indeed, to publicize the project. Another example could be when they want to hide the sexuality of one of the two people in the couple or both. Here, the duration of the contract could reach up to years, and could even lead to fake marriages.

We have examples of people who have done this to promote movies/sagas/franchises: Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart, Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens. We have examples of people who have done this to promote TV series: Blake Lively and Penn Badgley, Lili Reinhart and Cole Sprouse, Chad Michael Murray and Sophia Bush. We have examples of people who have done this to hide their true sexuality: Ricky Martin & Rebecca De Alba (for 17 motherfucking years), TS and.. and-and-and EVERYONE. We have examples of people who have done this to increase their notoriety, but then fell in love for real despite being super toxic for each other: Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez. We even have examples of real couples who have been asked to go public to boost ratings and publicize their show more than it already was per se: Lea Michele and Cory Monteith. [Yes, my friends, even real couples do PR stuff for publicity purposes]

Celebs fake relationships for profits. Profits such as more fame, more fans, more acquaintances, whether they were made together or thanks to or of the ‘partner’ themselves based also on the industry fields to which they are part, more freedom in other aspects of their life, both work and private, etc., and of course, money. The money profit received varies. It varies according to the duration (especially if they’re many years), to what they’re supposed to do, such as how many times they’re forced to kiss (yes, guys, that also counts), to the amount of time they have to spend together, aka being seen together, etc. It also and above all vary, based on how famous they are, or if one of them is not famous at all, or if one of them is more famous than the other. It’s obvious that the more famous the person is, the more money they receive. Both parties benefit from it, but the person who ACCEPTED to do the PR is obviously paid more also based on the notoriety they have as I told you. Here we start with a minimum of $5,000 received per month. The figure can also reach disproportionate numbers with five/six zeros per year.

It’s enough to think that 75/80% of all famous couples are fake. They gain more attention and ultimately, more money, and at the same time, fans and GP can witness an exciting ‘love story’ filled with drama, gossip, rumors, mysteries, and if they decide to end their story on a negative note, even with the possible and eventual shade-throwing which in turn leads to more attention, more gossip, etc., etc. Exactly how the teams on both sides wanted. You have to keep in mind that teams have the power in this case. It’s the PR teams who hold the power over the media to control the narrative, and not the other way around.

There are also many factors involved to keep in mind. People involved. We have friends, parents, paparazzi, and all those other people the celeb team involves to make the story look as believable as possible. For example, you know when the media say it was a source who gave them the news? Well, that’s the truth. Think about it. Those sources and those insiders are really insiders because they’re part of the team. They are those people who work for them and who release information, whether true or fake, to follow the narrative decided for the plan. Speaking instead of another topic that I’ve noticed in many asks. Paparazzi.

I don’t know if you know how paparazzi usually work, but especially the old-fashioned stalker type ones, are not known to hold back, in fact, on the contrary, they go way too far beyond the limits. Some of them know where the celebrities might be based on how popular the location is (clubs, restaurants, etc., where celebs often go), or other times, they’re called by waiters, valets, drivers, etc., etc. It’s a pretty aggressive and competitive industry, and paparazzi do everything they can to get images of famous people to sell to a newspaper or a magazine or on Instagram. There are differences between those in the US, those in Europe, etc. Many are also easy to control since eight times out of ten, it’s an organized thing.

As we well know, most of the time, the paparazzi are told where to be and when, probably by the celebrity’s PR agency itself. It’s ALL for publicity. Publicity of any kind. To promote a movie if it’s an actor, to promote an album if it’s a singer, to be noticed if that person’s project was a flop, for fake relationships or to ‘cover’ the real ones if one of the two is in a relationship that is not seen in a good light and therefore doesn’t suit the public eye, or if one of the two or both of them are queer. Seriously, for everything. And so they have paparazzi following them around so it looks like they’re more popular than they actually are, and the celebrities who make me laugh the most are those who, after calling them, act like the paparazzi were following them everywhere, some even getting angry and taking it out on them.

But it must also be said that celebrities who really don’t want the paparazzi’s attention, make sure that this doesn’t happen. Unlike the ones who want them and even have them called. There are many celebrities who want their pictures taken because, as we also know, any publicity is good publicity. These celebrities know how it works and not only accept that the paparazzi are part of the business, but use them as a tool for their publicity. It’s just business for them and a new opportunity to look good in magazines. They want to be in control of their image and in this way, they have it.

Also, some brands pay celebs to wear their clothing or accessories while out and about, and those staged shots that look like candid of a celebrity leaving a restaurant or a store, actually have multiple purposes, namely: celebrity endorsement of the product, big check for the celebrity for wearing the item, collaboration between the celebrity and paparazzi to get nice shots that look natural and random from which the celebrity then selects the ones they prefers, and image sales for the paparazzi agency. Everyone gets paid and everyone is happy.

Another thing to take into consideration? Depending on the celebrity’s profession, even their own contracts. In the sense that most of their contracts involve fake relationships. It also depends on the image that the celeb has and whether they’re trying to hide their sexuality. From this, their contracts can include a minimum of two PRs, or five, or eight, or even one that lasts for many years. They can also state that the same person with whom the celebrity has already had a PR in the past, may be again in the future. I’ll give you a practical example.

Imagine yourselves and a friend as a celebrity, okay? You guys are singers and your friend is an actor. You’ve just signed a 3-album deal lasting 5 years (meaning you have 5 years to complete and release 3 albums), and your friend an 8-year movie saga contract (let’s imagine 3 movies). Now let’s imagine that there are clauses in both your contracts that also include fake relationships. Your contract has two, and your friend’s contract has five, including one with one of their co-stars. Both of you must, ABSOLUTELY, have the number of PRs chosen for you over the course of those years, otherwise, you’re gonna be forced not only to fight a lawsuit that you will lose because you haven’t respected the contract, but also to pay a penalty that can reach up to six figures.

Doesn’t this ring a bell? Now do you also understand why Ca*ren, and most of the other celebrities, are forced to have PR stunt relationships? Because they have to! Because it’s part of their contracts if they want to keep doing what they do. Many of them have a say. They can decide whether or not to accept the person chosen for them, they can choose a person themselves, they can negotiate something in return if they accept a person they didn’t want, etc., etc. But many have no say in it.

And speaking of our Camr*n, more specifically, our L, and Kris. Guys… All the comments I’ve read around… *help* 🤦🏻🤦🏻🤦🏻

L didn’t invite Kris there because he’s her boyfriend. And it certainly wasn’t her the one who asked her dad to delete the post because she didn’t want her fans to start attacking her new boyfriend or because she wanted to protect her relationship. IT WAS ALL DONE ON PURPOSE. Mi*e posted the picture and then deleted it ON PURPOSE! Why? Because (L and Kris’ teams) wanted the fans to see the picture to speculate! They wanted the fans to start attacking him! They want people to talk about it!! Is that really that hard to understand or to believe? Welcome to Tyren 2.0, my friends. That’s how it started with Taco Delivery Symbol, or did you forget that too? Go read the timelines if you really don’t remember.

I’ve lost count of how many times they’ve put off releasing L’s album over the years. They’d finally decided, and then it was postponed AGAIN, but because of COVID. EVERYONE had to postpone their programs actually, but L’s album was supposed to be released 100% this year (in September, in my opinion). Her PR should have started earlier. This is the only reason we have only had hints of Crispy McBacon (I’ve already found so many nicknames for his transphobic ass, sorry but I just can’t help myself) over time. Because they have postponed several times! *And also because, in my opinion, they were still looking for an alternative. The choice had to be between a guy (him) and a girl.*

But hey, at least they have an excuse to make this PR more real, you know? I’m already picturing what she’ll say because we all know the script by now: “Kris and I’ve been dating for a while now. I’m a private person. My personal life is my personal life and I want to protect my shit, you know? I don’t like it when people judge my life choices and that’s why I’ve never talked about it before. And I’d like it to stay that way”. Picture me shouting a “SURE, JAN!” when that happens, also because we will then slowly have more and more of their content. Aww, I’m already picturing them playing fake lovebirds and talking to each other in Spanish IN FRONT of a camera, in a live or an Insta-story maybe? 🤮🤮🤮

And speaking of postponed programs…

This is my version of how things could’ve turned out for our oh so beloved IwanttobeknownMila. Keep these dates in mind. Shon Mentos: The Tour, started on March 7, 2019, and ended on December 21, 2019. The Romance Tour, was supposed to start on May 26, 2020, and end on September 26, 2020.

They could’ve released Shirt’s documentary around the beginning of the Romance Tour. They could’ve made them break up almost at the end of the Romance Tour. He would’ve completed the album now, to then releasing it in January or February almost simultaneously with Cinderella’s release.

Why all this? Simple, cross-publicity or cross-promotion or whatever you want to call it. Choke recently said that they’d initially finished filming at the end of his tour and that they had to cut out a lot of parts. And what does all this mean? That the original documentary was another one.

In my opinion, the original was supposed to about his life on tour and only a small part, sneak peeks about the creation of Wonder. Instead, thanks to COVID, they changed direction and made it all about his album. The reason why they had to cut a lot of parts, was to make room for the last few months and therefore to the completion of the album. Which is why I think they finished filming in September/October (if anyone of u knows more, please feel free to let me know).

Without COVID they could’ve released his original documentary more or less around the beginning of the Romance Tour. News, tabloids, and people would’ve talked about them, both for the documentary and for the tour of our Mila= cross-promotion. They could’ve made them break up almost at the end of the Romance Tour. The distance, the misunderstandings, and why not, even the pathetic excuse that Toilet Brush used now when ‘they were in crisis/on a break’, that is, that he hadn’t been opened and vulnerable with her. People would’ve talked about them, Shitmila fans would’ve rebelled and cry their eyes out, news and tabloids would’ve gone crazy for who would tell the story better= cross-promotion. He would’ve completed the album now, with half of the songs he already had (from 3 years) and that he’s using on this album, and a half with songs that would’ve been about his broken heart, to then releasing it in January or February almost simultaneously with Cinderella’s release. Do I need to say this? You can imagine what would’ve happened, right? And what would that have led to? Oh yeah. Cross-promotion!

But anyway, guys, it didn’t happen. Just as we didn’t get L’s album as we hoped. But try to remember one thing, okay? Tyren’s contract started because L needed a new male PR and then they flipped the cards around and continued for him AS AGREED initially. Shakerstoremila’s one, on the other hand, is only and exclusively for HIM. It’s centered on him and will continue to be on him until the end. There’s no point in asking yourselves why Paruparo does this and why Paruparo does that, okay? She HAS TO do it. It’s in her contract and she cannot legally break it if she doesn’t want to face the consequences HER HERSELF has accepted. The sooner you understand this, the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can wait for the end more calmly. It sucks, I know. But that’s the way it is.

I’ve never liked Shon that much in the past. I discovered his existence only and exclusively thanks to Paruparo (IKWYDLS). I’ve always seen him as too fake and with a huge ego. I first became aware of his giant ego during the interview they did in 2015 at The Late Late Show with James Corden. Indeed, I’ve always wondered how someone like Mila could be friends with such an egocentric person. But you know how it is, I just brushed it off because I simply didn’t care about him, and also because at the time (2016 when I officially entered the fandom) the IKWYDLS era was already over for a while. BUT, my first impression of him became very true years later when they started this ridiculous charade.

Not only is he self-centered and with a huge ego, he’s also one of the most fake people I’ve ever seen. Why am I saying this? Because although I don’t know him and consequently, I don’t know if he was already like that before he became famous, Shon is the typical empty celebrity without a personality that has become the role he was set to be in the beginning. The perfect product. They wanted to sell the good guy. The sensitive and different from the others (and that’s where the bullshit of being a ‘singer-songwriter’ came from). And since this idea in itself only partially worked, they made him work on his body so they could sell that too. To sell the unreachable good guy. Superman, as he defines himself 😂. The problem of Shawn and his team, is with people who have not stopped to just look at the fake goody to shoes image that they wanted and want to continue selling.

The way I see him, Shoe’s just a selfish kid. Everything always revolves around him. Everything is and must be about him. He lives to be loved. He lives for the attention. He lives for the approval of others. Everyone must necessarily like him. There’s no one else besides him. Do you know what he reminds me of? He reminds me of a child who asks his mom for attention. ‘Mommy, how did I do? You liked it, didn’t you? Was I good? I can do better if you want, I know I can do better’. I don’t even think he realizes he’s like that because he’s so full of himself and so clouded by himself. Oh and, you know what I’ve been realizing lately? Many of his fans really believe he grew his hair out because Paruparo asked him to (I’d never have believed this bullshit even under torture), but now more than ever I’m convinced that he did it to copy one of his obsessions for years, that is, Matthew McConaughey. My personal problem with this look of his is the fact that he’s now starting to look more and more like Jon Snow (any Game of Thrones fans like me here?), aka one of the characters I can’t stand the most of that amazing TV series. And this, is making me dislike him even more.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I hate him and that I consider him the devil. In fact, I think there’s a lot but A LOT worse than him out there. I really, REALLY, dislike him, but I don’t hate him. Do I follow him on social media? Yes, but only on IG. Did I listen to his music? Yes, but illegally, and I liked some of his songs because as usual, I distinguish the art from the artist. I’ve never bought his music, I’ve never streamed it, I’ve never gone to one of his concerts, and the only views I’ve ever given him are only for music videos (not even all of them) on YouTube and only because other channels can’t violate copyrights by taking and posting them on their own. Indeed, you know how I’m gonna listen to his album? Thanks to the YouTube channels of his fans who will post his songs.

But anyway. I’ve dwelt too much on #pleasenoticeme #pleaseloveme, I’d say that’s enough. I’m gonna conclude with my final thoughts on the main topic of my post, that is, the fake PR relationships. I wanna explain to u guys why a fake relationship like Shazam’s and our Mila’s is so obvious as PR.

A PR relationship MUST create doubt in people’s heads and MUST NOT look perfect at all. Why? Because otherwise people WOULD NOT TALK ABOUT IT. If it looked like a basic relationship, a common relationship, people wouldn’t talk about it because they wouldn’t find anything strange about it. They wouldn’t speculate, they wouldn’t look for clues, they wouldn’t watch every move. They wouldn’t be thirsty. They’d just get bored. Yes, there would be the initial boom of the ‘new couple’, but then everything would end and people would move on to look for something else to entertain them. The main point of a PR relationship is to make people speculate, and if people don’t constantly talk about it, then it would be all pointless because it would make no sense to create a fake relationship in the first place.

Way to stop this act or any other act? Stop giving them fucking attention! You want to talk about it, speculate, look for evidence, and make theories amongst you friends? Do it! That’s great actually. I do it myself. But fucking tagging them?? 🤨😒🙄

If all the fans who know the real TRUTH stop talking about it by tagging them, tweeting them, etc. their ‘story’ would end. Sure, their teams would try to create something to attract attention again, like a kiss or a scoop, but if ignored even then, everything would end immediately. Why? Precisely because they were unable to complete their task. And in that case, the two celebs would ‘break up’ with a big scandal that would still bring attention back to them, although in this case, the attention would FINALLY be on both celebrities in a singular way and no longer as a couple. The next goal would be for fans and media to find out ‘what happened’ and ‘why’, while for managers it would be to create a scoop on those questions that keep them talking about them, and if all goes well, maybe even get them ‘back together’, and so on, until they have a better idea. But, if they fail even then, even though they’ve not reached the date scheduled in the contract, they would ‘break up’ without any more surprises.

And that’s all for now, my fellows CS. Remember to hold on and to not lose hope. Be patient. And above all, try not to freak out and get very angry as soon as you listen to the album. We already know it’s all bullshit.

I’m sending you a virtual hug 🤗🤗 Always with love, F ❤️

[owl-with-a-pen]

We didn’t get much insight on nias breakup with brainy, like how nia was feeling through the whole thing! It was pretty upsetting. So how about an almost rewrite of reality bytes where Yvette takes nia out to a party to loosen her up, she gets drunk, and brainy comes to the rescue? Like takes her home, stays with her when she gets sick and takes care of her kinda thing. Thanks!

- Okay the word count speaks for itself but this one really got away from me. But I had to throw in all the angst I possibly could. Thank you for the prompt! x

Working under the oppressive eye of Lex Luthor grew worse by the day.

Brainy had always been a master at multitasking, and so he had never assumed it would be exactly there that he would struggle the most.

And yet, here he was. Trying his hardest to focus on Lex’s latest tedious task to keep him in check. After all, Lex Luthor may have very well believed Brainy’s impassive charade, but that did not buy trust. Only time and a one hundred per cent success rate would accomplish that.

To achieve it, distractions had to be eradicated. He had already made his excuses time and time again for not attending one of Kara’s famed game nights, and despite Alex’s insistence, he had not given in to any other form of group activity, either – especially those involving Al’s Bar. He needed to maintain a clear head, to do as his doppelganger had instructed; to protect his friends and their future, he had to rid his mind of them. All of them. It was imperative to success.

And yet, the moment his phone buzzed with an incoming call, Brainy’s heart leapt into his throat.

It was Nia’s name that popped up on his screen. Nia’s face. So jovial, so care-free. In the photograph, her arm was wrapped around Brainy’s shoulders where she had pulled him in for a last-minute selfie. She’d kissed his cheek just seconds after it had been taken, insisting it’d be an awesome couple photo.

He had meant to change that. Why had he not…?

He swallowed hard, focusing instead on his computer screens, relaying information back and forth between them. It was without passion, meaningless data that could be shifted anywhere whilst maintaining the same result. But, it still served a purpose, keeping him from his intestinal inclination, that gut instinct to reach for his phone and answer without a moment’s hesitation.

When was the last time he had heard her voice?

He had been keeping his distance where he could, maintaining a professional formality with her whenever he caught her in the field as Dreamer. He knew it hurt her, every time it hurt her, but he could not avoid his duties in as much the same way she could not avoid hers.

They were in effect destined to bump into each other. The only way Brainy could lessen that hurt was by avoiding conversation as much as possible, throwing up every wall he could think of, even if he had to stumble over his words to do so.

When Nia’s face disappeared, Brainy released the breath he’d been holding, letting it dust across his screens.

Then, his phone buzzed twice more.

Voicemail.

Nia never left voicemails. Not since he had ended things with her so abruptly, walking out of her apartment, refusing to elaborate, to offer her any kind of closure.

It was a calculated hurt powerful enough for her to abstain from asking questions; a necessary evil, and one Brainy would never forgive himself for causing.

He shouldn’t be doing this, his mind warned, but his thoughts were racing, derailing from all twelve tracks at once.

His hand was already poised over his phone. Before he could think better of it, Brainy snatched it up, connecting to his most recent voice message. He pressed it to his ear, pursing his lips in anticipation.

“You suck, you know that?”

Brainy flinched, the phone nearly slipping right from his hand. Nia’s voice was harsh, anger tinged with upset, but it was her voice. It could have been filled with all the fury in the world and Brainy would have still listened just as eagerly, if only for the chance to hear her again.

As the voicemail continued to play, Brainy realised that Nia’s words were slightly obscured by the heavy beats of music playing in the background, not to mention the loud chatting and whooping of people he certainly did not recognise. Brainy frowned. She must have been at some kind of party. Although, none of the voices present sounded as though they were talking to her specifically.

A nightclub, perhaps?

Nia wasn’t usually one for clubbing. So, why would she-?

“And y’know what?” Nia’s voicemail continued out just as harshly, cutting off Brainy’s train of thought. “Yvette’s so right, I deserve better than some guy who’s gonna leave me hanging, who leaves with zero explanation, and I- oh crap, sorry-” There was a scuffle, one caused by Nia knocking into a fellow patron if her apology was anything to go by. The slur in her voice was very evident, which led Brainy to conclude that she had been drinking heavily that night, enough to pick up the courage to call him.

His stomach lurched when he heard another voice in the background.

“Girl, what are you doing?” It was Yvette. Of course Yvette would have been the mastermind behind this apparent night out, likely with the well-minded intent of assisting with Nia’s mood.

Yvette’s voice grew louder as she came closer. “What are you- wait, are you calling him? No, no, you get off the phone right now, that’s messy as hell!”

Brainy was inclined to agree. Nia, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I-”

Before Brainy could hear anything more, the message cut off.

Brainy squeezed his eyes shut, clenching and unclenching his jaw methodically.

He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t be giving into gut instinct, not now, not-not ever. Not with so much at stake. He was supposed to be monitoring Lex’s movements, doing everything he could to keep a step ahead of whatever he was planning. So far, he had failed at that. And, if he continued to lose sight of his objective, he would only slip further still.

But, if there was one thing he could count on now more than ever, it was the Big Brain. Perhaps it was not that his skill at multitasking had been limited as of late, but more-so that he was not utilising it to its fullest extent. He could easily keep a thought track open for any updates on Lex’s data entry, could even continue development on the bug he was planning to slip into Lex’s private servers. For the moment, they were obstructed by a firewall even he was having difficulty breaching. But, with time…

Brainy’s fingers curled together, winding tightly around his phone. He had the room to deviate from his plans for one night. Besides, it would take mere seconds to get a lock on Nia’s GPS…

He had been trying so hard to keep out of her private business these last few weeks. The little he did know were only of her recent exploits as Dreamer that had been plastered all over the news. But, even knowing what she’d accomplished in such a short time, how capable she had become as a hero, it could not stop the worry that clogged so suddenly inside his throat.

He just had to know where she was, he rationalised. He just had to know that she was safe.

The moment her co-ordinates flashed in his mind, Brainy’s chest caught, lips parting. She was close-by, an estimated three minutes by flight from his current location.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Brainy’s eyes scanned empty air, but beyond that he saw everything. The security for the club was rudimentary at best, and far too easy to hack. Nia’s most recent location had pointed her somewhere near to the club doors, which was only confirmed when Brainy linked up to the cameras out front, pinpointing her almost immediately.

Yvette was with her, holding up her weight as Nia slumped precariously into her side, nearly tripping down the club’s steps in an effort to remain upright. If it hadn’t been for Yvette’s guiding hand, she likely would have.

Brainy gritted his teeth. Just how much had she had to drink? He had never known Nia to drink so excessively, especially with how rigorously she had been training as of late. This was new behaviour for her, but not unpredictable. Brainy was more than aware of the many coping mechanisms one might find themselves adopting in times of emotional distress.

He had caused this.

He could fix this…

But he couldn’t, couldn’t - no matter how much his heart insisted otherwise, he could not give in. Nia wanted nothing to do with him, that much was clear from her message. And… Yvette was with her. Yvette would get her home safely.

But Yvette had clearly been drinking, also. What if something were to occur between the club and their apartment? Nia was disorientated, vulnerable, and with alcohol marring her judgement, her reaction timing would never match that of a clear-minded foe.

Brainy stood from his desk all at once, nearly toppling his chair in his haste. Fortunately, he was in a private office. Another upgrade from Lex. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth; at least he could use this particular gift to his advantage.

He needed to get to Nia undetected. Immediately.

Brainy’s calculations had been - as expected - totally correct. He reached the club in no less than three minutes, giving himself ample distance to land so that no drunk bystanders might notice his arrival. Not that their likelihood of remembering any of this come morning was very high, but it was best not to push those odds.

The moment he saw her, Brainy’s world stopped moving.

Nia and Yvette were sat together on the club’s steps. It appeared Yvette had not been successful getting Nia all the way down them. Now, she was stubbornly trying to encourage Nia to drink from a water bottle she’d had stashed in her bag. Nia only turned away from her with a grimace, pushing her face firmly into her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from alcohol consumption, her dark hair beginning to thicken and frizz from the humidity of the club. The dress she wore danced with row upon row of sequins, glinting in purple and pink tones beneath the streetlight.

She was so beautiful it nearly caused a physical ache inside of Brainy’s chest.

Never had he wanted to go to her so ardently, to scoop her into his arms, hold her close and never let go.

But, he couldn’t. He was bound by his decision and, what’s more, he was the very cause for this entire situation in the first place. Nia was only in this position because of what he had put her through, and he couldn’t take that back. So long as Leviathan was a threat, he could not give up this ruse, he could not tell her the truth.

Even if he did… the acidic tone in Nia’s voicemail told him all he needed to know. That he may have well lost her for good by doing this. And he could barely stand to think it.

Again, a distant part of his mind queried why he was even here? Was this not already traipsing on incredibly dangerous territory? If Lex found any reason to distrust him, this logical and distant image Brainy had been parading would’ve all been for naught, and his Earth would meet the same fate as his female doppelganger’s.

No, no. Regardless of his decisions, the side he had been forced to take, he was still himself. In which case, there was nothing wrong with helping those that required his assistance, even if they hadn’t exactly asked for it. In that way, he could at least be there for Nia. If she would even allow it at all.

He hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but when Yvette recognised him from halfway across the club grounds, the look she gave him was practically poisonous.

“You,” Yvette sneered, wrapping an arm protectively around Nia’s shoulders. Nia only groaned, digging her fingers against her face. Yvette’s eyes narrowed distrustfully. “Voicemail didn’t cut it, hm? You know you broke her heart, right?”

“I’m… aware,” Brainy said tightly, trying his hardest to maintain the same collected calm he’d been offering the rest of his friends. Any slip-ups now could be the end of this ruse once and for all.

Nia had yet to lift her head, and so Brainy took that as his opportunity to remove his phone from his pocket, very clearly displaying the Uber app on his screen, making his intentions clear. “I can help get her home.”

Yvette snorted derisively, tightening her hold around Nia. “Uh-uh, there is no way I’m leaving Nia alone with your cheating ass.”

Brainy’s face fell. Cheating? Was that what Nia had told her? Or… or had that been Yvette’s own assumption of events? “I didn’t cheat on her,” he said, a little defensively.

“Please,” Yvette scoffed. “No one’s feelings magically change overnight unless there’s another woman involved.” She gave him a snide once-over. “She can do better than you.”

Brainy’s stomach sank, his eyes flickering to Nia, capturing every inch of her. “I… I have no doubt.”

It took some back and forth, but eventually, Yvette agreed to his help on the condition she came back to the apartment with them. Brainy understood that she hadn’t wanted to cut her own night short, but Nia’s health came first. At least on that, they could both agree.

Regardless, it was a very awkward Uber journey back to the apartment.

Nia didn’t speak the whole car ride, and Brainy began to wonder if she was lucid enough to understand her surroundings at all. She didn’t look up from her hands, and more than once Brainy considered that she might be doing it purposely, far too aware of who she was currently sharing a car with.

Although, the steadily worsening pallor of her skin pointed towards another, far likelier, possibility.

Which was confirmed the second they got into the apartment’s elevator.

The juddering motions of the small space was all it took for Nia to break her silence, cupping a hand desperately over her mouth.

“I feel sick,” she murmured into her palm.

“Hold off,” Yvette said gently, rubbing Nia’s shoulders. “We’ll be home any second.”

Brainy wished it could be him to offer Nia comfort like that, but he’d practically backed himself into the furthest corner of the elevator, acting as nothing more than a passive shadow to the night’s unfolding events. He dug his hands into his pockets, clenching them tightly to keep from reaching out to her, watching with worried eyes as Nia grabbed suddenly for the elevator’s rail with her free hand, swallowing thickly.

The moment the doors opened, Nia stumbled out, nearly tripping in her haste to exit. Brainy maintained his distance while Yvette helped Nia down the hallway, waiting awkwardly with his arms folded as she fumbled with the keys to the door. He hovered hesitantly outside the doorway when Nia broke from Yvette, rushing into the bathroom, although he noticed that Yvette was wary to follow her in.

When he caught her eye, Yvette grimaced, shaking her head. “I- I can’t, I’m a sympathetic vomiter,” she explained weakly. “If she hurls, I hurl.”

Brainy nodded his understanding, reviewing the door’s entrance as though it might swallow him whole. After a long moment, he ducked his head, stepping inside. “I can stay with her, if you would like,” he offered, quirking a brow. “After all, you are in need of rest as well.”

Yvette pulled a face, staring at him suspiciously. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

Brainy only shrugged.

“I’m keeping my eye on you,” Yvette said, which at first Brainy didn’t understand as an invitation. That was, until, she stepped aside, waving her hand in the direction of the apartment’s bathroom.

Brainy didn’t waste any time. He barely managed a breathy thank you before he headed the way Nia had disappeared.

Nia was curled around the toilet when Brainy pushed the door open, her hands pressed firmly against the rim. She hadn't appeared to have thrown up yet, but she was pale and shivering, her jaw clenched tight with discomfort.

The moment he was close enough, Brainy dropped to his knees, reaching out a hand hesitantly towards her, gauging her reaction. When none came, Brainy carefully rested the flat of his palm across her back. She didn’t try to move away from his touch; instead, with a shaky sigh, she relaxed against him, eyes fluttering shut.

And so, Brainy continued, boldly enough to massage his fingers gently and precisely around her spine, quickly finding a pattern that she seemed to appreciate. He rubbed her back in large, repetitive circles, filling the silence with the quiet crunch of sequins as they rolled lethargically beneath his palm.

It wasn’t long before Nia’s shoulders tensed up. Her chest convulsed and she groaned out, throwing her head over the toilet just in time before she vomited into the bowl. As expected, the contents of her stomach appeared to mostly be liquid, which certainly explained the dangerous level of her intoxication. Brainy remained exactly where he was, holding her back steady with one hand whilst studiously bunching Nia’s hair behind her shoulders with the other, tugging away loose strands that had caught across her lips. No sooner had he done so, Nia gagged again, squeezing her eyes shut as round two commenced.

Brainy continued to rub her back, murmuring soft comforts at her side, slipping between both English and Coluan. Nia had certainly picked up some of his native language in the months they had been together, but not enough for her to realise in that moment the weight of what he was telling her. Or, rather, what he wished he could be telling her - in a language she might recognise.

When Nia was reduced to dry heaving over the bowl, Brainy realised that her mascara had begun to run, bleeding black streaks down her face. The strain of vomiting could certainly cause such a reaction, but something in his heart told him that this was more than that.

He wished he could brush those tears away as tenderly as he once had, that he could reassure her that everything would be okay.

But how could he when he knew the probability of their relationship rekindling once the dust had cleared? How could he when said relationship was already in shambles, pushing them apart even while they were sat so closely together on the bathroom tile?

“Here.”

Brainy blinked out of his thoughts, turning his head to find Yvette stood in the doorway, trying very hard to keep her eyes away from Nia’s current condition. She held a glass of water outstretched towards him.

Brainy took it gratefully, lowering his head into a sincere bow. “Thank you.”

“You’re still so weird,” Yvette said, although for just a moment, he thought he caught a fondness in her tone. Then, she cleared her throat. “This doesn’t mean I like you,” she said quickly, heading back out into the hall. “Remember, I am one room over. You try anything, and I’ll-”

Her words were cut off by the slam of her door, but Brainy understood well enough the threat she had posed. He nearly smiled. If anything, he was glad Nia had a friend and roommate as protective as Yvette. She had been there for Nia in a way that Brainy had not been able to for far too long, offering her a shoulder to cry on, and a party to draw her mind away from the pain, if only for an evening.

Perhaps it hadn’t worked as Yvette had wanted, but Brainy hoped that even for a little while, Nia might have experienced something other than heartache that night.

When there was nothing but bile left in Nia’s stomach, Brainy took her shoulder, offering the water glass out to her. “Nia,” he said gently. “You must try to drink this. It’ll help-”

Before he could finish, Nia shot to life, slapping away his hand so hard that the glass’s contents sloshed down Brainy’s arm, drenching his sleeve.

“No!” Nia cried out weakly. “No, get off me, you jerk!”

Brainy let go of her immediately, shuffling away from her forlornly. He watched instead as Nia folded her arms angrily across the toilet bowl, pressing her forehead against the rim.

For a while, only her harsh breathing echoed around the small space. Then, Nia stopped, arms clenching as she squeezed her hands into fists. “Why’re you even here?” she croaked.

“You… called.”

Nia snorted. “That’s never stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Brainy’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “You were in need of assistance,” he said instead, trying his hardest to keep his voice from crackling.

“What is this, Brainy?” Nia asked exhaustedly. She lifted her head, dark hair curtaining her face, but Brainy could see that her eyes were trained downwards, seeing nothing. “Why’re you doing this to me?”

“Nia—”

“No, no, you go radio silent on me for weeks. You don’t give me any explanation, you don’t talk to me, you act like I don’t exist. And you think you can just turn up now and- what? What do you want?”

Brainy’s eyes were beginning to burn. He blinked quickly, doubling down on the same toneless voice he’d perfected over the last few weeks. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Nia laughed, although it sounded more like a sob. She spat into the toilet, lips twisting sourly. “Well,” she muttered darkly. “I’m not. You broke my heart. And you can’t fix that.”

Brainy’s own heart felt as though it might shatter in his chest. He opened his mouth, only to close it again when he realised there was nothing he could say that might absolve him. He didn’t want to be absolved. Nia was right. No matter what he said, even if he folded and told her everything right that second, wouldn’t fix what he had already broken.

He didn’t try to touch her again. Instead, he simply knelt there, watching as she picked up the water he’d left out for her, drinking the half that hadn’t spilt over his sleeve.

When Nia didn’t appear to be in danger of vomiting again, Brainy walked her to the bedroom. He stayed a respectable distance from her the whole while, enough that he could steady her should she decide to fall. At the last few steps before her door, she did stumble slightly, and Brainy held his arm out to her on reflex. Begrudgingly, Nia took it, staggering the final distance down the hall.

Nia let go of him the moment her bed was in sight, practically falling against the mattress, uncaring of the uncomfortable and clearly not bedroom-appropriate attire she was still wearing. Instead, she curled up quickly beneath the comforter, hugging her knees close to her stomach.

Silently, Brainy set about placing a fresh glass of water on her nightstand, as well as retrieving a trash can from the bathroom, tucking it within easy reaching distance of the bed. When he was done, he stood there a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Nia’s back, wondering briefly if she may have fallen asleep.

“You know the way out.”

Her voice was devoid of any care, and yet it was still sharp enough to cut a hole through his heart. She sounded so empty and drained, exhausted by the night’s events.

But, worse yet, she had been exhausted by him.

Brainy closed his eyes, a million and one apologies budding on his tongue, desperate to leave him in a fierce burst, to explain everything, to beg for her forgiveness in every language he knew.

But as always, logic won out. No matter how much he wished he could tell her, he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to put his family’s lives in mortal danger.

And so, it was upon Nia’s instruction that he left her without another word.

It wasn’t until he was out the front door, halfway back towards the elevator, that Brainy’s chest hitched, his breathing jerking harshly outside of his control. He stumbled into the wall, baring his teeth as the first of his tears began to flow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to nothing. To no one. After all, he knew in his heart that those words would never be enough; no words would ever be enough.

The longer he kept this up, the more he knew with one hundred per cent certainty that Nia would never forgive him.

And that hurt more profoundly than any words she left on his voicemail ever could.

[overdramatic-queer-antagonist]

I really love thinking about the repercussions of what happened to the 7 Birds so I wanted to write a Thing^tm. Sorry if this sucks, I have no memory of writing half of it. 

Taako: He’s constantly writing the names of his crew down any chance he gets. If you give Taako a piece of paper eventually you’ll see him writing, Lup, Barry, Lucretia, Merle, Magnus, Davenport. The word “who?” haunts him. He doesn’t like heights. ESPECIALLY when it’s just him and Barry. He always leaves KrebStar at home when he visits Barry and Lup. They pretend not to notice, they do. He hates the smell of garlic and berries. He hasn't made chicken since that day. Everyone ends up in therapy but Taako endures strenuous physical therapy. Fuck that washing machine dudes. Sometimes he forgets he’s even wearing glamour. Kravitz once walked into a room to find Taako standing over shards of glass, he looked terrified. It takes a long time for him to stop worrying when he cooks for his friends, it takes even longer for him to stay calm when his friends get sick. He’d never say it aloud but he’s so grateful that his sister is already dead. She can’t get sick. He, Merle, and Davenport go hiking every summer. He used to pick up pretty rocks at the side of the trail. He doesn't do that anymore.

Lup: She’s deathly claustrophobic. She doesn’t like being unable to speak, or hear, or see. One time she did one of those sensory deprivation tank things with Lucretia. She came out ten minutes in and spent the rest of the time in the lobby, waiting for Lucretia, trying not to cry. She doesn’t let people walk behind her. One time, on a reaper mission, Kravitz tried to get her attention by poking her in the back with the blunt part of his scythe. She nearly killed him with a sixth level fireball. If she thinks about it too long, she can still feel the knife piercing her, she can feel the poison burning through her veins.

 She doesn’t like it when Barry gets near fire. If Lup goes to an event wearing gloves, they’re off before she leaves the house.

Barry: Barry’s scared of the dark. He’s always been scared of the dark but now he can hardly take it. When a reaper mission takes them into a cave Kravitz tries to give him an advance. He holds onto Lup the entire time. He doesn’t like gold coins. Usually, it’s not too bad if he doesn’t think about it, but one time he and Magnus were out and Magnus owed him a GP. He sat outside the bar they were at just staring at it. Later that night, Magnus came out worried. What he said was, “Barry? It’s getting dark.” But what Barry heard was, “Your name is Barry Bluejeans and you're afraid of the dark” He had to lean on Magnus walking home that night. He used to be a pretty chill guy when it came to death. He accepted that it was just a thing that happened. Now he’s terrified of it. When fantasy Wheel of Fortune started, The Birds decided to check it out. It didn’t stay on for more than 5 minutes. Lucas’s school has a big bell that rings at noon each day. The first time Barry did a lecture there and the bell rang, he walked off of campus without another word.

Magnus: He always has a vase of lavenders in his home. He would never admit it but sometimes he just closes his eyes and takes the smell in. If he tries hard enough it almost feels like he’s in the Hammer & Tongs. Sometimes, when he’s home alone, he swears to Istus that he can hear Julia laughing, calling him for him to check out a project. There’s never anything there when he follows the noise. A few years after The Day of Story and Song, Magnus took Angus to see the races in Goldcliff. They were in a VIP spectators box (one of the perks of being friends with the owners) and when the race started, along with the normal explosive sounds of the battlewagons peeling off, the box shook. Magnus grabbed Angus and tried to shield him from- nothing. He had to get some air. Lord Artemis Sterling invited him to dinner once. He had these fancy, gold, chalices. Magnus didn’t drink a thing.

Lucretia: She used to be the most reserved of the Birds now she’s almost clingy, she doesn’t do alone time anymore. One time Taako caught her staring at her face in a mirror. He sighed and dropped his glamour. He leaned against her and whispered, “You’re still the second-best looking, don’t worry.” She leaves excessive reminders that would be infuriating if the others didn’t get it. She keeps a scrapbook (something that she would never admit too because the only thing lamer than keeping a diary is keeping a scrapbook) just in case. Barry found it once. She was mortified but he just quietly flipped through it, smiling as he did. The Birds have a strict “no staff unless it looks like something else” policy because prolonged exposure, even if you can resist the thrall, to a Grand Relic is no joke.

Merle: It might be silly but, he doesn’t really like getting handed things. He’s moved on from the incident itself, he forgave Kravitz the moment he remembered how too but… The idea of someone being able to do it again makes him sick. The name John became taboo, even more so around Merle. Merle hates that. He likes the name John. If he was young enough to have another kid, he’d probably name them John just to spite those people. He and Dav had to find a new game to play. Dav wasn’t even finished suggesting chess before Merle shut down the idea. It just didn’t feel right. There’s a rumor around Bottlenose Cove about the Eral. They say he talks to himself as he watches the sunset. When confronted with this, Merle just laughs and says it’s just his way of de-stressing. He checks in on Sloane and Hurley constantly. They hold no grudges, of course, but Merle doesn’t think he’ll ever fully be able to forgive that mistake.

Davenport: Nobody really calls him that anymore, per his request. Usually, it’s Captain, Merle and his kids call him Dav, and then there’s Magnus’s ridiculous nickname, but he doesn’t mind what people call him as long as it’s not that. He says it’s like saying a word so many times it loses its meaning. One time Angus asked, very politely mind you, why Dav didn’t celebrate his birthday. He never did get an answer but that told him all he needed. Let’s just say that Fantasy Euchre (Yooker) lost its charm. His Grand Relic didn’t change his mannerisms. A fool might think that he doesn’t care about the casualties but it’s quite the opposite. He feels like feeling remorse for mistakes that he had no control over would be disrespectful to his victims. Instead he and Lord Artemis Sterling arrange for the day the Birds were separated (Cap’nport’s birthday) to be designated as a day of remembrance for The Grand Relics’ victims.

[scary-lasagna]

Hi again! I'm the anon who asked for headcanons about Jeff with a female s/o who speaks in monotone, has difficulties expressing emotions, has a very apathetic, cold personality, is also a killer, and the only thing that makes her smile is being covered in blood and killing her victims. I wanted to ask if I could get some headcanons about what the others (Slenderman, Jane, BEN, Laughing Jack, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie and Toby) think of her personally and how they treat her, if that's ok?

I usually only do up to 5 per ask so each creep will be a little shorter than usual!

Slender

He'll be wary, to say the least.

A lot of creeps in the manor are pretty fucked up, to say the least.

So he's going to try and keep his distance, like he does with the others that unnerve him.

He'll be nice and respectful, but he'll hightail it if you two are alone together, and confidentially always has somewhere to be.

Jeff always has crazy asf s/o's, so that just adds to the crazy, something he doesn't want to get caught up in.

He's not scared of her, but he'd rather not be around her in case she hasn't smiled for a while.

He's had...unpleasant experiences with humans of that kind of sort.

Aka he's been stabbed, shanked in the ankles, back-stabbed, and even one of his tendrils cut off.

Of course, he healed and his tendrils grew back...but it' the principal of it y'know?

But if he has to, he'll keep her in check at the manor. Other than that he enjoys all of the souls that follow her home after a killing spree.

Jane

Fucking???

New target acquired.

It just makes her hate Jeff more, and now she hates his s/o too.

She always thinks that he manipulates his s/o's into liking him, or blackmailing them.

But once she finds out his s/o loves killing almost as much as he does, it doesn't sit well with her.

Especially with how sadistic and morbid she is.

But she won't be able to get to her since Jeff is latched onto her side constantly.

All she knows is that she's a new threat that needs to be taken out before it gets out of hand.

She won't be afraid to throw some hands.

BEN

Like Slender, he'll be respectful but also try to keep his distance bc she creeps him out.

He'll prompt her to game sometimes when Jeff isn't there though, to at least try to get a reaction out of her besides 'meh' and 'stabby'.

Might try to spook her by poking his head through the wall, but ends up scaring Jeff instead.

He'll maybe pop in a security camera, or tap into a webcam to the house her gps is in.

Y'know, just to see how she works, and what the hell she looks like in 'the moment'.

He'll look after her when Jeff isn't around, kind of like a brother of sorts.  

I mean, he and Jeff are practically brothers anyways, so he's going to be around probably more than she likes.

And he might prompt her with some tips of expressing her emotions when need be.

L. Jack (okay- lowkey?? Kind of ship them??)

Probably his new best friend?

It doesn't sit well with Jeff since LJ freaks him out.

He likes Jeff's s/o, and he's always finding different ways to annoy her.

He might even pop up when they're out on a spree.

He likes blood too!!

So he'll pop out of a victim's corpse and make it rain.

And then promptly offer some sweets to her.

He secretly looks up to her, and may come rushing to her side if she needs help with anything.

E.Jack

S t a r e

Kind of curious about her tbh

And her reactions to all the dumb shit Jeff does,

And why in the hell she's still with the dumbass.

He won't fuck around with her to scare her like he usually does to people but treats her with a little bit of respect.

Everyone else in the damn house is loud and annoying, unlike her who's quiet and couldn't give two shits about other people.

So, if he needs a break from everyone, he'll seek her out and sit by her.

But not too close, he's too anti-social for that.

Masky

He's not too fond of Jeff anyways, so he wouldn't like his s/o before even meeting her.

And once he does he finds her dislikable. Jeff, too, for that matter.

And on top of that, he's always quick to judge and then take a route from there.

But Slender is always sending either him, Hoodie or Toby to check up on people.

So he's forced to be nice when he doesn't want to be.

Which is a good thing, because if he was mean to her he'd either have to answer to Jeff or his s/o herself.

Both scenarios will not be pretty in the long run.

Hoodie

He tries his best to be polite.

But, really, he's with Masky on this one. (Lmao what's new))))))))

A lot of people who reside in the Manor are dangerous anyways, and she's no different.

Masky and Hoodie try to stay with the more chill people.

Aka The "Less-likely-to-stab-you-when-angry" people.

He'll talk to her if he's in a good mood, though.

And finds that he's more similar than he expected her to be.

He's quiet, she's quiet. He can't express himself, she can't express herself.

And many more things that make him realize maybe the creeps aren't so different from him than he thought.

Except for Jeff, of course.

Toby

Toby doesn't have much of a reaction to her, since he usually just goes with the flow of everything.

But he might ask her question about how she kills, just for a peek of the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth to make her a little happy for the day.

A curious but also thoughtful boi.

He likes seeing people happy, and shit, if that means ripping people open with a kitchen utensil, then you do you.

He won't press on if she doesn't react to certain things, or if she comes home looking like Carrie on prom night.

But he'll smile and wave to his friend, who smiles back for once.

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (2/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They could leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not that good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

*****

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. Don’t.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared.

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, mother.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now? But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“What is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as ice and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! No! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so fucking cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking at her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You dick!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

Fuck him, she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed brat.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an awfully convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard great job Steph.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

What the actual hell had happened?

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who maybe would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

[rhodanum]

COVID-19 roller-coaster

Despite its personal nature, I'm making this entry public, since it may be of aid to others as well, in these circumstances. Particularly for people who might end up having highly atypical symptoms like I did.

Long story short, I've been scarce from most forms of social-media for over a month because I caught COVID-19 some time before my country instituted lockdown measures. I was in hospital from the start to the middle of April (roughly two weeks) and started showing symptoms as early as March 18 (runny nose, sneezing, that I ascribed to a common cold, since at that time they weren't considered something that could present in the case of COVID-19). It took me well over a week and a half of battling symptoms at home and calling four ambulances in that time-frame, always getting dismissed on account of my symptoms not matching up with the standards presentation (aside for the runny nose and sneezing, the vast majority of my symptoms have been gastrointestinal, neurological and renal in nature, not pulmonary) before I was finally tested (on April 1st) and admitted to hospital the following day, when the test came back positive.

My timeline of events has been the following (and I'm still currently symptomatic + showed one new COVID-specific symptom even after two negative tests and discharge from hospital):

March 18 - March 23 -- constantly runny nose, post-nasal drip, sneezing all the time, a light cough. Nothing too bothersome, I dismissed it as a seasonal cold. At this point I started burping heavily, out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason.

March 24 -- woke up with a terrible back-pain, roughly in the area of both kidneys. The pain lessened as the day went on. In the evening, I had my first very clear neurological symptom -- my eyesight filled with a sort of black static (like a TV without cable signal), to the point where I could no longer read letters, discern my own features in the mirror or tell how many fingers my father was holding up. Thinking I was having a stroke or hell knows what else, I called an ambulance. The static-like effect lasted around 20 minutes and was completely gone by the time an ambulance crew arrived. They checked my blood-pressure and it was high due to the panic (174/109), so they dismissed the static as a result of the high BP and gave me an ACE-inhibitor pill to lower it.

March 25 -- started feeling kind of grotty around lunch-time. At around five in the afternoon, I vomited up all of my lunch completely undigested. An hour later, the true wave arrived. I went to the toilet with explosive, orange-colored, watery diarrhea, massive urination (wasn't drinking more fluids than usual) and vomiting, all at the exact same time. I'm not joking in the slightest when I say that I had my head in the sink, to puke and my ass in the toilet, to pee and shit out orange water, all three at the same time. The puking subsided, but the diarrhea and the urination kept up and, for the next two hours, I went to the toilet to shit and pee every fifteen minutes. By this point I was getting dangerously dehydrated, so we called our GP. She, suspecting it might be Norovirus, told me that the diarrhea needs to be stopped ASAP and my father went to buy me the necessary medicine.

March 26 -- the diarrhea was relatively under control due to the medication, but I was still pissing buckets and having to constantly drink tea to stay hydrated, with how fast my kidneys were clearing fluids. The light cough that started on March 18 got a bit worse, but not by much. I had no appetite whatsoever and attempted to eat a little at lunch, but only ended up puking again. I was worried enough about the whole thing that I called an ambulance again. The doctors claimed it couldn't be COVID-19 (by this point I was reading reports of diarrhea as a common early symptom). He listened to my lungs and said they're clear. Then he gave me an anti-emetic shot in the bum (so I wouldn't keep throwing up) and tapped my kidneys a few times. When I flinched, he said it might be a urinary tract infection and prescribed me a list of medication, with the antibiotic Ciprofloxacin at the front of it (keep this one in mind, it's very relevant for what happened next). I didn't actually have any pain when I urinated and the urine itself wasn't dark, but rather almost as colorless as water. I was just peeing far too much and the area round my kidneys was tender.

March 27 -- woke up with a persistent cough early in the morning and a sensation of  tickling in the throat, which made the cough worse. This morphed into a  very specific kind of migraine, starting from the very back of the skull  and radiating to the front, to the point where the backs of my eyes  hurt terribly as well. Still peeing a ton and drinking tea and water to stay hydrated. General state of malaise, as if there was something terribly toxic in my body, leeching all the strength and vitality out of it. Started taking the UTI antibiotic (Ciprofloxacin). My eyelids were twitching involuntarily and I had an up-and-down sensation, with some parts of the day being slightly better (able to sit at my desk and watch an episode of a show) and others, just one or two hours later, making me feel so horrid that all I could do was lie motionless in bed. Still had no appetite and force myself to eat a bit of vegetable broth Dad made for me.

March 28 -- horrendous night between the 27th and the 28th. A sensation like a knot developed in my throat and got worse and worse. To the point where, at around three in the morning, I could no longer swallow my own saliva. I could still breathe perfectly fine, no shortness of breath of anything else like that, but the feeling was as if my esophagus went and swelled shut. I had to gather up a large quantity of saliva in my mouth, tip my head back and struggle for several dozen seconds, to be able to swallow. I very nearly choked when trying to take my medication in the morning, after a sleepless night. The inability to swallow subsided, but the sensation of a knot in the throat remained. Feeling of malaise and weakness grew worse. A sensation of brain-fog came on and I could no longer focus on anything. I attempted to read fic on my phone and just ended up reading the same chapter three dozen times, because my brain could no longer process the words. Difficulty speaking and articulating my thoughts. I could still think well enough, but translating said thoughts to words or writing was incredibly difficult. I spent a whole minute just trying to get the word 'insulin' out through my mouth. I knew it, I remembered it, I just couldn't transform it from a thought into a word without a great deal of effort.

March 29 -- another nightmarish night. Not due to problems swallowing, but inability to actually fall asleep. All attempts went the exact same way:

closed eyes and attempted to fall asleep

started hearing a loud, constant and almost nonsensical monologue in my head, in my own voice, often jumping from one language to the other (English, Romanian, Italian, etc all languages I knew). It's difficult for me to describe the contents now, since they barely made any sense, but they were almost everything from a recitation of a shopping list all the way to narratives that didn't make any sense ("and then, get this, the clock bashed his face in!")

started seeing images behind my eyelids, almost as nonsensical as the words -- parades of wild color, me falling through Salvador Dali-like landscapes, images shifting hundreds of times per minute

None of these were dreams, everything was happening while I was still awake and struggling to fall asleep. I'd close my eyes, struggle mightily to empty my head and go the fuck to sleep... and within seconds, the cavalcade of words and disjointed images would erupt again, with me having almost no control over it. After a few minutes I always found the strength to jerk up and open my eyes, which silenced the voice and ended the images... but then I'd have to try closing my eyes again and the circus would repeat again. This happened hundreds of times over the entire night, before I was finally able to fall asleep for a few hours, at six on the morning.

Woke up absolutely soaked in incredibly foul-smelling sweat. So much of it that my bedsheets were wet as well, not just my pajamas.Used what little strength I had to strip the bed, take a shower and change my pajamas. By lunch I was feeling the worst I'd ever felt, shaking convulsively without having any kind of fever and begging 112 (our emergency number) for help. Several friends were worried I might be going into some kind of shock. Our ambulance service was swamped and Dad used his connections to get a hazmat-equipped team to come home and test me for COVID-19. The hazmat team claimed, like the previous ambulance crew, that I couldn't have COVID-19 since I didn't have a fever and wasn't coughing my head off. I pressed to get taken to the hospital and tested, but between them berating me for taking the risk and Dad looking petrified at the idea of me going to a hospital (and getting exposed, at this time he was still convinced I just had a strange flu), I caved and remained home. They said I was probably having an anxiety attack and left.

March 30 -- yet another sleepless night with visual and auditory hallucinations whenever I attempted to fall asleep. Utterly desperate and frantic, I spent the night scouring the Internet for links between COVID-19 and other viral illnesses and hallucinations. In the end, while reading the prospects for all the pills I was taking, I found the culprit -- the goddamn Ciprofloxacin, the antibiotic for the presumed UTI (the area around my kidneys still kept hurting, but the urination continued to be painless, clear and frequent). Hallucinations and psychotic episodes were listed as one of its 'rare side-effects'. Not so rare in my case and other researchers are now taking a hard look at it and other antibiotics in its family, since the numbers of people who end up hallucinating while on the things is apparently larger than previously suspected.  

I immediately contacted my GP, who was shocked at what reaction my body ended up having to Cipro. Nevertheless, she immediately switched me over to another antibiotic we had in the house -- Augmentin, a more broad-spectrum one, but one I'd taken in the past for bacterial infections and responded well to. Urinating slightly less and able to eat a bit more, but the pain in the kidney area was getting worse.  

March 31 -- night hallucinations continued, but at a slightly reduced intensity, once off Cipro. Woke up completely covered in horrible-smelling sweat once again. Left arm numb and then painful, a reaction I was left with after a long bout of the monster-flu two years ago left me with peripheral nerve-damage due to the immune system going completely bonkers and attacking the nerves. This symptom appearing again made it clear that I was experiencing autoimmune issues once again, as a result of my immune system fighting against the SARS-CoV2 virus.

The pain in the kidney-area was growing worse and worse, even with the Augmentin treatment. By evening, I'd called a fourth ambulance in roughly seven days. The paramedics were even more dismissive than the last crew, said I just had some sand or maybe a small kidney-stone and to wait it out at home. They completely refused to take me to the hospital, claiming that I ran the risk of a COVID-19 infection over a small issue.

April 1 -- a slightly better night of sleep, the hallucinations reduced to 10% of their previous intensity, so clearly an effect of the Cipro. The brain-fog was still presence and further research pointed to it as a possible effect of COVID-19, rather than the antibiotic. Woke up drenched in sweat once again, with my cervical area hurting horribly, my kidneys in pain as well and my left arm numb once more. Completely furious and utterly fed-up, I said "fuck the ambulance service!" and begged Dad to take me to the nearest ER by car. By this point I was fearing for my kidneys and feeling so horrid that I was 100% willing to take the chance of COVID-19 infection, if I didn't have it, just to figure out what the bleeding fuck what happening to my body. He refused initially, fearing I would be infected, but was left with no choice in the matter when I threatened to walk to the hospital by myself if he wasn't willing to help.

At the ER closest to our apartment, a hazmat-equipped doctor working triage had me sit down and fill up a questionnaire of symptoms. Even without fever or difficulty breathing or persistent cough (my cough came only in the morning and lasted just a few minutes each day), everything else was enough to make him note "possible COVID-19" and give me a paper to present to our national institute of infectious diseases, so I could get tested. So Dad and me left the ER and drove to Matei Bals Institute, where the doctors were rather puzzled by me, coming in without a fever  and not coughing my lungs out. The chest x-ray turning out perfect (nothing in the lungs) only seemed to increase their skepticism, but they nevertheless tested me, before sending me home and telling me I'd receive the result in 24 hours. Their only recommendation was to talk to a nephrologist on the phone, re: the kidneys.

April 2 -- felt slightly better, though still under heavy malaise and the kidneys were more painful than ever. At about nine in the evening I got a phone call from our local public health authorities, who told me that my RT-PCR test for COVID-19 was positive. Honestly? Instead of being frightened, I was relieved. After almost two weeks of the strangest collection of symptoms I'd ever had, I finally had an explanation as to what on earth was causing them and was vindicated re: the four ambulance crews that dismissed me. The authorities sent an ambulance that picked me up, right along with Dad (quite unwillingly in his case, he only had some sniffles and a minor indigestion, despite having nursed me for well over a week). We got taken back to Matei Bals Institute, where Dad was tested and sent back home (since he didn't have much in the way of symptoms and they had no reason to keep him) and I was admitted into one of the wards. The time was roughly two in the morning.

April 3 -- barely slept due to the noise and light in the ward. Had blood drawn, for blood-work. Malaise as terrible as ever. Started treatment with HCQ (Plaquenil), the anti-malaria drug. The rest of my ward-mates were absolute sweethearts, but I was much too weak to do much other than get out of bed to trudge to the communal bathroom down the hall. Urination (which had slowly reduced in frequency from March 25) still a bit more frequent than usual. Begged the doctor for something to let me sleep and was given a few metallic-tasting, oily drops to drink in the evening. Had the first good night of sleep in well over a week.  

April 4 -- at this point, the kidney pain got so bad that I could barely walk to the bathroom and would grit my teeth in pain whenever I sat down in the bed. Asked one of the nurses for help, with no visible result. The pain was getting worse and I could no longer get out of bed, just lying there in a listless lump. Several of the other people in the beds next to me went to pound on the door separating the 'red zone' from the 'green zone' and demanded that the nurses or doctor see to me. In the end, a young nurse came and struggled for almost thirty minutes to get an IV in me. She was inexperienced and, coupled with having to wear three pairs of gloves and a visor on her face, she could barely see or feel my veins. The result was that she ended up blowing thee of my veins (two on the right hand, one on the left) before she finally managed to get the IV needle in and secured it. Then I got put on a heavy-duty regimen of IV Ceftriaxone (antibiotic), hydration fluids and painkillers, for the next few days.

April 5 - 7 -- slowly got better on the IV regimen. Gained a bit more strength, the pain in the kidney area subsided and I could walk again. Gave urine samples twice and they came back clean (no bacterial infection in the kidneys or urinary tract). On April 6 we were told that the whole lot of us (the seven of us crowded in that ward and everyone else in the same wing of the Institute) would be transferred the next day to Colentina Hospital, just a stone's throw away, which had been officially designated as a COVID-19 support unit. The reasoning was that we'd be placed in smaller wards and the Matei Bals Institute could focus on the critical and very difficult cases, that required everything from oxygen support to full intubation. My IV needle was removed on April 7 and we, dragging our luggage after us, walked from our wing at Matei Bals to the entrance to Colentina, just two hundred meters away. We were dispersed all over the Internal Medicine wing and I got lucky enough to be placed in a room with just two beds, sharing with a lovely 81 year-old lady, who was COVID-19 positive, but utterly asymptomatic. Got blood drawn again and also had an EKG done (no cardiac abnormalities). Also had another x-ray, lungs still entirely clear. Got tested for COVID-19 once again, but the result came back 'inconclusive' the next day. The treatment with Plaquenil was ceased and I received no further medication, save for what I requested to handle inconsistent stools.  

April 8 - 9 -- kept getting stronger and stronger, able to sit out of bed and walk for extensive periods of time. Bowels still somewhat disturbed and shifting between constipation and diarrhea and then back again,with the stool always being a bright, sun-yellow. Otherwise no pains or other malaise present. Got tested for COVID-19 once more on April 9.  

April 10 -- some of the first ever symptoms I had, in middle March (runny nose, sneezing, stomach constantly full of air and always burping) came back at this point, along with noticeable muscle soreness in my upper arms and shoulders, even though I'd never made any great physical effort. The test taken on April 9 came back 'negative', so the doctors ignored me when I told them that I was having old symptoms come in for an encore. Tested once again.

April 11 -- the burping and stomach-distention due to air grew worse. The 'knot in throat' symptom returned. The test from April 10 came back 'negative' as well and since I fulfilled the criteria of two negatives in 24 hours, I was discharged and had Dad come and pick me up. The Colentina doctors, completely inexperienced re: COVID-19, claimed that my gastro symptoms were likely caused by something else.

April 12 - 16 -- uncertain period, with the typical 'up and down' pattern making a return. One day I was feeling fine and had energy, the other way I was wiped out and could barely get out of bed. Frequent urination (once every twenty minutes) decided to make a return as well and I broke down in tears. Also got a brand-new symptom -- pink-eye straight out of nowhere, which has also been associated with COVID-19 infection.

April 17 -- worst day since the first ones in hospital. Completely exhausted and dealing with a horrible pain at the base of my skull, that was pulsing slowly, radiating down the spinal column and up into the skull. Doesn't respond to Paracetamol and I didn't want to risk taking Ibuprofen. Getting dehydrated due to the constant urination once more, so I started drinking water with electrolytes whenever I could. Fell down on my way to the bathroom, when a veil of darkness passed over my eyes for a few seconds. Everything was spinning and I felt as if I was disassociating and floating away from my own body. Felt better only after more water with electrolytes.

April 18 - 20 -- still felt crappy, but marginally better than on the 17th. Pumped myself full of vitamin C, vitamin D (have a long-standing deficiency there), magnesium and potassium from bananas, kale, spinach, probiotics from yogurt with live cultures in it, to re-balance my likely ravaged gut flora. My appetite, decent in the hospital and shot to pieces again on the 17th, was slowly making a comeback once more. Still burping and full of air no matter what I ate, still pissing frequently. One of the things with COVID-19 was that it made my GERD flare up about ten times worse than usual. Started treating it with a proton-pump inhibitor (Omez) which handled the extra acidity and the heartburn, but not the burping and trapped air. Kidney region started hurting again and at this point I didn't know if it even was the kidneys themselves (both urine samples and blood-work in the hospital showed no problem whatsoever with the kidney function, in spite of the weird symptoms) or just nerve-pain in the area of the kidneys.

April 21 - 23 -- slowly gained strength once more, able to get out of bed and work at my PC. Pain in the kidney region came and went, urination slowly started to reduce in frequency once again. Still drinking water with electrolytes, taking vitamins, eating as varied as I can.

April 24 -- best day so far today (hope I don't bloody jinx it). Energy levels almost back to my baseline, though still left with burping, constant air in stomach and general laziness in digestion. Stool of normal frequency, color and texture after the probiotic regimen. Left with lingering nerve-pain in the cervical area, the shoulders, the lower left ribs in the front and the lower back. Urination frequency reducing to more normal levels once again, feeling less like a constantly dehydrated prune.

It's been... almost five weeks since the first symptoms. A long and exhausting ride and I still don't know what might pop up again. But still far preferable to those poor souls who end up unable to breathe and in full-blown ARDS, needing to be sent straight into the ICU.

Why did I have another flare-up, after two negative tests? Your guess is as good as mine, right now. I have a few theories:

consistent with those articles coming out of South Korea, false negative results might be more widespread than we suspect, in some cases. Either because the virus might be able to hide in the central nervous system and pop back up again for another tangle with one's immunity or because the immune response can lower viral concentration in the body enough for a test to come back negative, without the virus actually being defeated for good.

the test results are correct, the virus is gone from my body and all of what I'm still dealing with are a the result of post-viral systemic inflammation. Not an unlikely thing, since I have a short history of dealing with autoimmune bullshit after that flu two years ago left me with enough nerve-damage that I was unable to walk for a whole month and took six months to recover fully + still wake up with the left side of the body temporarily numb and huge pain in the spinal column if I ever sleep on a shitty mattress, that doesn't offer decent back support.

I want to do more blood-work, see if markers for autoimmune activity show up, but unfortunately, that's pretty difficult to do now, with most hospitals up to their eyeballs in COVID-19 and private clinics charging an eye-watering price for such tests. Dad is almost broke until pay-day, due to how much money he spent in the last month on medicine for me, so it will have to wait or we'll figure something out if my situation worsens again and it becomes imperative to get treatment against autoimmune response. Taking this thing one day at a time.

An overview of my COVID-19 symptoms, good to keep an eye out for:

Gastrointestinal:

explosive, orange, foul-smelling diarrhea

excessive flatulence

vomiting

aggressive flare-up of GERD

excessive burping

swollen, painful stomach due to constantly trapped air

difficulty swallowing

feeling of knot stuck in throat

lack of appetite

Neurological:

temporarily failing vision due to static-like images over the eye's perception

twitching eyelids

nerve-pain in the cervical area

migraine starting at the back of the head and radiating to the backs of the eyes

nerve-pain in all sorts of odd places, coming and going (the left ankle, the left front rib, the right back rib, the kidney area)

dizziness

brain-fog and temporary difficulty with focusing / with coherent speech

Renal:

very frequent urination, though blood-work indicated no disfunctionality with the kidneys

Upper respiratory:

runny nose, post-nasal drip

sneezing

light cough, early in the morning, accompanied by a ticking in the throat sensation that set it off

Unsure how to categorize:

foul-smelling night-sweats, intense enough to soak through clothes and sheets

pink-eye

No shortness of breath, no fever, no lung involvement in my case. This is a virus that the human body responds to in ridiculously varied ways, from that cute little old lady at Colentina, who was totally asymptomatic, to me, where it manifested almost like bloody cholera (the violent diarrhea, vomiting and pissing at the same time, like something was trying to squeeze all of the water out of my body), to one of my ward-mates at Matei Bals, who had developed pneumonia and required moderate oxygen support and was well on the mend when we got dispersed, to the unfortunate souls who end up in ICU with ARDS.

Take care of yourselves, be vigilant and stay safe.

[empty-dream]

Just watched 13 Reasons Why S4

Ended up making a full blown commentary per episode because this is finally the last season and I’ve been enjoying this mess since S1. I even forgot that it was released until a friend brought it up to me. So in short,

Ep1

OKAY WHO DIES AGAIN HUH??

Clay, narrating: *I'm good at hiding shits so my parents don't notice at all." His parents: *concernedly looking at him pale and mushing food on the dining table*

The concequences of investigating murder cases and creating conspiracies instead of studying your ass off because it's a damn school really caught up huh.

Charlie holy shit I love you he's so chill and good.

It's been years I still can't believe Justin is really adopted by the Jensens. Funny that now the table is reversed, with Justin finally actually doing better and taking care of the increasingly-ill Clay.

SCOTT!! OH MY GOD! SCOTT REED!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA HOLY SHIIITTTTTTTTT AAAAAAAAA!!!

Wow my headcanon is approved, he already graduated by S3. No reason he didn't hang out with the gang after all the shits in S2 if he was no longer around in the first place.

He's still so nice even in Clay's trippy nightmare. Is that what Clay remembers about him? Well not really surprising, considering Scott actually was worried about him in S2.

Good god finally Clay meets a therapist- Wait a minute that's the guy from CSI:NY?!?! Isn't Clay just gonna get clobbered instead.

Okay I knew they are really close and I do adore their relationship so much but HOLY SHIT THEY ACTUALLY GO AT IT WITH ALEX AND ZACH???

Alex: *panicking over the kiss* Zach: Ayy don't worry let's just continue perhaps-suicidally hanging out on dangerous rooftops that you were almost fall to your death from. Alex: ????

Ep2

That narration of Clay ranting about college applications. I'll drink to that bruh.

Ya I too make my applications and other supposedly important matters at 3AM instead of any other more sensible time.

Oh my fucking god that is the creepiest smile I've ever see.

I feel like as Justin gets better and better with his life, Clay goes worse.

Justin is so excited about going to college! You deserve the future man. 

The old-time stoners and drunkards are rehabbed or dead. Enter Zach.

Winston: *eyes and ears up to your shit 24/7*

Nobody likes Tyler in S1 but now everybody likes him.

Okay. Cops doing shit jobs at protecting. This feels too real with this situation right now.

Clay's adventure to put the trash into the trash bin.

Omg they got the paint to the lab this is going real CSI.

Idk about u but at this point I don't exactly want to pay attention to Jessica/Justin problems anymore.

I know Zach and Clay don't get along and that's why I need their adventure together.

Clay drunk-puking on Justin. Well well well how the turntables.

The return of Monet!!

"I have 2.8. If I work hard, I'll get 2.9" Winston omg same.

Tht held gaze between Alex and Winston.. Is this slow burn fanfiction???????

Yes Mr. CSI it will definitely get worse.

I know writing about your feelings can make you feel better but probably not in your college essay form.

Ep3

I'm starting to think Clay is the one who dies in the end? Idk tho.

I guess the toll of busting ass trying to save everyone by yourself is catastrophically high, huh, Clay? Funny that he now goes from 100 in S3 to 0 in here and that's actually realistic.

Alex and Winston are really pining each other with Zach in the background lmao.

"You don't wanna go on the Valentine Dance with me? Even as friends?" Well sometimes there are moments when you just don't go back to being friends. It's an actual normal thing.

And besides the last time Alex goes with Jess for something she wanna do, he ends up murdering somebody. So.

"Hey Zach. Hey punch me. Hey you pussy now? Hey hey. Bitch." *poke* *poke* *poke*

No Zach he's trying to save all of your asses. You can't just say that.

Charlie is really just there trying to do his best in this shitshow and like Justin I wanna laugh but also am proud.

Everyone: *being paranoid and unto each other* Alex and Winston: *having the date of their life*

I wish everyone doesn't have this level of trust issues but then again we won't have a shitstorm drama like this.

When did this become "what is love?" philosophy class?

"You know love but you love so fiercely and sometimes it hurts."Wow Mr. CSI you hit the mark.

How many parties can the Liberty High hold in a year?

"You go with Charlie to get back to Justin, right?" Wow Diego you HIT the mark.

I still have problems with Ani as a character, but I do like her casual banters with Clay.

You know, with all these trust issues, I'm surprised nobody actually tries to peek on other's phone. Like, I know that's low. But, you know, faster solution. And better than having mass hallucinations.

Oh God the football team really is a bunch of jerks. Good fucking thing Scott is outta here.

Alex and Winston almost die like couples in a cheap slasher movie.

"Fuck Love." Clay Jensen, 2019 (according to the movie timeline)

Ep4

Why is Charlie talking? Why is he wearing the football jersey? Who on earth dies?? Is it Zach? Justin? Somebody else from the football team? But the content of your speech man...

Ah yeah. Clay did survive a great big deal of many ugly shits. Single-handedly thanks to adrenaline, mostly.

Jess got a point tho. Ani could have followed Clay to stop him, by herself or with the gang. What did she do? She spied on Winston and Alex, and then went back to the dance. So much for handling anything themselves.

Or maybe, the gang shouldn't have let Ani and Clay take care of it themselves.

Does anybody in this show ever figure out Clay has dead people hallucinations?

Domestic Jensen family is my everything.

Charlie really out there bribing Zach with his homemade cookies I-

Ah yeah, I kinda forgot that in reality Alex and Winston have a really difficult situation. With Bryce and Monty stuff.

"Looking back on your time at Liberty, do you have any regrets?" Really? Isn't that all they have?

"Who do you trust most in your life and why?" Everybody: *immediately side-eyeing each other*

Clay c'mon wtf Justin is really just worried sick and trying to help you. Aaand he's gone.

Jess you don't put your hands into something without checking it first...

Why would you only send 2 adults to supervise 30-50 kids on a camping wildlife trip? They wouldn't be able to do shit.

"I thought you were a football player!" "I AM a football player! And so are YOU!" Gold.

Dream!Monty and Dream!Clay really sit like that and I almost laugh were it not for the fact that I do that too. It's strange to see that for once, they talk normally, heart-to-heart, without the usual snickering, chiding, all that venom.

Oh shit they really make Monty and Clay mirror each other like that. They both protect people they love but have tendencies to snap, one way or another.

Zach, dude, I know you've been a real good friend. But Alex almost died. Twice. Because of your drunken ways. And you laughed. Didn't you spend an entire season trying hard to not let him die again? What's wrong with you?

When did this become a horror movie?

The Standalls :((

CHARLIE MY MAN WITH HIS COOKIES. And incidentally, a wild Zach appears.

"So are we gonna fall apart or trust each other now!" Justin my man.

Clay dude that would have been an amazing entrance were it not for the fact you looked insane.

I can't fucking believe they just go normally at campfire like that. Two people almost died. Several got beaten. What the fuck.

Does it come from the bottom of your heart or it doubles as a threat, Clay?

Alex you had us at the first half not gonna lie.

GR A NO LA CA MP C O OKIES? ??

Wait. So who has been fucking around with the football team? Who moved Clay?? Huh??

Ep5

GUYS THERE IS A THING CALLED GPS ON THE PHONE?? What are you? 3?

Justin finally breaking down after 5 episodes being the most decent and healthy person around. Well Charlie is too but he's new, so.

Finally an obligatory meeting at Monet.

CYRUS AND THE PUNK GANG!!! God I love you guys where have you been. And you guys are computer geeks?!?!?! Perfect.

My question exactly, Clay. Good replies tho, Cy.

I'm still thinking how for a nerd, Clay knows A LOT of people and knows who to ask what.

"How am I even friends with you?" Ya Alex that's my question too. How are you suddenly bff with Zach? I don't remember you two being close in S1?

Hm. If you aren't holding his family at stake, there is no way Tony would even think to rat out.

Mr. CSI starts going CSI on Clay.

I almost forgot Charlie's last name is St. George. The cast goes by Charlie mostly so.

Justin really shows up at the party with the angry mom pose and disappointed look at Clay. The turntable, people. Flynn's voice got raspy.

Oh no no Clay you don't go there. Please don't split my Jensen-Foley brothers like that. Meanwhile the punk gang be like just watching there.

C O O KI E S??? Goddamn Charlie do you bring cookies everywhere you go??

Charlie my boy you T_T I was kinda suprised that the cookie baking actually had a sad backstory.

Clay-Zach bonding that I fucking wish for oh yeah. I definitely didn't expect it with piano and drunk singing tho.

While Clay is having the time of his life, Tony is seeing life flashes in his eyes.

Yassss he winssss!!!!

Caleb's expression when the sherrif hugs him lmfao

Nice try Sherrif but Tony knows your tricks.

"What of any of this is okay?" Wow things you'd never hear Justin says in S1.

Meanwhile, Charlie and Alex are high on weed cookies as fuck. Their conversation is the most interesting thing I've seen beside the Scott cameo till now.

The look on Justin's face when Clay pushes him :((

MY DUDES HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ABOUT JEFF'S DEATH? WHAT HE WAS ACCUSED FOR?! You do not, under any circumstances, drive drunk.

Ep6

Clay be spitting truth.

They really be discussing Clay's chronic hero syndrome huh.

Okay. Operation Clay-Zach failed.

Weren't Zach all fuck it all yeah! kinda guy? Guess when you are the one who faces death it's not that fun anymore huh.

"One Clay Jensen is enough" Jess truth.

Do Alex and Charlie really study Spanish in front of Tony who is not helping at all? That would be embarrassing lmao.

Clay: Fuck off. Hallucination!Monty: *sits next to him*

Gotta hand it to Timothy Granaderos. He could go venomous to puppy eyed in 1 second. Amazing.

Man. School shootings are fucked up. There are many things I wonder about mankind and one of them is why is school shooting even possible?

Hallucination!Bryce: Hi I’m sorry I’m late. I hear this is time for Clay’s dead people hallucination party.

"Are you a hero or a martyr?" Wow they really throw the question.

And here is Clay sitting under the desk between his two most hated dead people hallucinations whispering moral dilemmas to him.

Meanwhile Winston and Zach got high.

Charlie helping Alex to breath.

The talk with Estella and Tyler.

"No offense, you are cool, but I don't wanna die with you." Zach chill lmao.

Are.. Are you sure outing that to Winston is a good call, Zach? For a guy who was super paranoid that his gang would narc him, he sure is loose mouthed himself.

I like how everyone from Tyler to Zach to Winston, admits that Alex is a really kind guy.

Wow Tony did you really expect anyone could do anything in that situation, in fucking Evergreen situation, for that matter?

Charlie is a great friend wow.

Cl-CLAY DON'T GO OUT that is EXACTLY what you are NOT supposed to do!!!

Goddamnit Clay. Holy shit Clay. 

Dylan Minnette really worked hard in this scene.

.......... WAIT A MINUTE IT'S NOW ACTUALLY CHARLIE ALEX????? Tony be just walking in.

Ep7

Clay really got into a psych ward. Talk about darkest hour. And it’s only ep 6?

Wow Ty that's some brave lines.

Which hallucination-induced person is Clay talking to before Ani gets there?

Ok that therapy session made me tear up.

These kids are having college interviews at the worst time possible. They are all fucking breaking down one way or another.

And Charlie just, really never gives up on Alex huh.

What's most important to Clay is his friends. Real quick to answer that question huh.

God Justin lashing out at the Jensens. It's the first time he does it and it hurts.

Zach holy fuck. I appreciate you didn't out it but holy fuck you didn't have to do that are you trying to die

Clay-Tony combo is back baby I miss them so much. Although perhaps Tony you would mind a bit about Clay's health because clearly he was out of it.

This is so short. I too really don't like application essays and interviews and the inevitable revisit of the sadder parts of my life because of them.

Ep8

When did this become sci-fi apocalyptic story?

God I miss the time when Clay's dreams are just Inception-styled trippy shit with Scott randomly says hello and gets him water.

Okay. Everyone's got their own way to cope with existential and moral crisis huh.

You know what, I would like one movie out of this sci-fi dream.

I knew it Tyler was a bait to smoke out illegal gun dealers. Is that... An okay thing to do for a high schooler? Sounds fucked up, all things considered.

Yaaay Justin's got the college! I'm super happy!

Wow Estella good question.

Wow Tyler good statement. If they trust each other a bit more, everything would have been a bit better.

Ah shit. Justin relapses again.

Does Tony need to be pummelled first before he finally goes all off to finish his opponent or what?

Is this going Big Brother Is Watching

What the fuck. That locker fight scene is disgusting.

Jess and Clay might throw shades at each other but together they share one brain cell.

"I think it's a walkout, Sir" Tyler lmao

Wow Zach and Alex heart-to-heart.

Cyrus really steps on some pedestal to make his point.

Aaand Zach and Alex really go all out on "doing it right" huh.

They really have students vs cops riot at this time. Talk about timing.

It's nice to see the punk gang enjoying the fighting again.

Dude what happens if you don't have anything on your bag tho.

Aaaah the punk gang with Tyler again!!

"Why are you with me and not with Charlie?" Zach ouch that hurts.

Zach no no no Zach get out of there too Zach pls

Clay really becomes 2nd in command to Jess huh.

Charlie tries to save Clay but gets whacked on the head instead. 

Tony you came back!! Oh so that college scout was.. Oh.

Oh shit Clay. Oh. Shit. I should have realized that. Goddamn.

Ep9

"I like sleep." Charlie me too. 

God Alex and Charlie literally sleep together jaldjwaownaljewoalsj that some cute shit.

Wow Clay really takes Mr. CSI's advice to round up the gang and confesses. That's a step.

Charlie sometimes has a good idea, huh.

The Jensens meeting is probably the reason why the idea of parenthood scares me.

Also Clay and Justin really put the practice of "tell the parents the less-harsh-but-still-harsh truth, then ask them to get prom back" by the book. And it's awkward.

Aww Charlie coming out to his dad and the response he gets... When you put the rich fams like Dempseys, Walkers and Saint Georges together, the last one is really the only healthy one huh.

Way to go Jess!

Ah I forgot Alex has an older brother.

Aaaahhh Charlie has dinner with the Standalls! Their reaction is so sweet!

"Does he make you happy?" "Yeah. A lot." AHDKWJWOAKDUWLAOEL I mean after everything that has happened to Alex, man I am so happy he can say that with a fond smile.

WHAT THE FUCK HAHAHAHHA CHARLIE WHAT THE FUCK HOLY SHIT LMFAO I THOUGHT THIS WAS JUST AN TRIPPY ANIMATED IMAGINATION THING and Alex is so done with his extra shit.

Wow Ani you do karaoke good, asking Jess out even better.

OH MY GOD IT ESCALATED. Also Alex is right that one is creepy Charlie.

I thought by special doughnut Caleb means some diet-related stuff fit to Tony's menu for fighting. Why didn't I expect a literal Will You Go To Prom doughnuts?

CHARLIE PLEASE STOP AHAHAHAHA you dumb rich kid where did you get all those lamps and prop candles.

"Would you love me any less?" Aww Clay knows Justin loves him.

"You three all look adorable" Ya Jess, same.

Tony really out there doing the "I'm here because he's here" to Caleb.

Clay, Alex, and Charlie be like judging Zach hard.

Oh right that one kid from Cyrus's gang is gay and he brought his boyfriend!

Zach: You two sitting here like it's a funeral. Also Zach: *proceeds to continue sitting as well*

"We deserve to live." Finally something from Zach's mouth that I can agree for this season.

I love that Tony and Caleb are such good friends to Clay.

And now it's Winston turn for dead people hallucination.

..... The door to the other side again.. :'''((

CHARLIE AND ALEX WON THE PROM KINGS AAAAAAHHHHHH I mean with all those extra efforts, it'd be hard to not to. And there goes Alex finally giving in to dance.

I don't like Luke the football guy when he's the enemy but I like him when he's a friend. He's a hype man lmao.

Alex I'm so happy for you man. I'm glad you are finally happy. My heart was tight at the dance part .

Everyone: *dances* Clay: *sits there, monologuing philosophically*

I like that Clay and Ani finally being honest that they don't fit each other romantically. As romance goes there is not much romantic tension between them. And they have way too many flawed traits that when paired, would turn the relationship sour and possibly toxic in the end.

Justin do u like to show up and make everyone step aside for you or what.

I like that Clay was just watching from a distance. Then at last minute decided to join the crowd with his mother, whom he had a few trust issues with in all seasons.

Charlie: "Foundry's gay?!" Alex: "Mind's blown" Me: Same.

There has been nothing wrong going on in one episode, aside from the Zach one that's timely stopped by Charlie and Alex. I'm suspicious.

Ah. Yes. Of course.

Oh my god Justin's the one dead huh?

Ep10

Oh thank God he hasn't died. Yet.

Oh God Justin no. No no no.

Get your shit together Zach. Even Charlie tells you that.

No no no not like this not after everything oh god.

Somebody would you actually please run after Clay too.

Oh my god Clay.

Oh my god Alex you. Even when he admits it to Winston, he still covers for Jess. I- oh god.

It's been only 15 minutes and it hurts.

Charlie and Alex, the moms of the group.

You know, for a guy who says he doesn't love Justin, Alex gives a lot of shit about him. I guess you can still be around people you don't like?

I know the kiss is huge news Charlie but that's not the issue here lmao.

Zach: *hugs Clay* Clay: ????? Alex and Charlie: ?????? Zach: *pats Tyler's head* *leans on Clay*

The Padillas :''')

Clay Jensen. Class speaker. Wow.

Yeah Mr. CSI's voice is really calm, rather chilling, actually.

"You've looked at death too many times for a young person." Damn right Mr. Jensen.

Ah so that's the reason why Zach stole that letter. Makes sense, emotionally.

You know, I did say Idc anymore about Justin/Jessica problems but when it gets to this point, I can't not care.

So many people come to the hospital...

Clay and Justin's talk. I'm sorry I can't hold it in anymore. I'm fucking sobbing at this moment.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead just like his mom. But he died not in the same way. He died holding his bro's hand. He died surrounded by his family. He died with people who loved him around.

"After everything, this is how it ends." Fucck

DID HE HAVE TO DIE??? DID JUSTIN FOLEY-JENSEN HAVE TO DIE?? Did you really have to put yet another sucker punch in the last episode of the season?? Yeah I know real kids and people do die from AIDS but really? After a whole season of Clay screaming kids wants to live to the point he lost his mind???

I spent the entire funeral screen crying. I couldn't even scream again when Scott is present in the funeral. I know he'd be there but god I can't right now.

Mr. CSI sure knows super effective ways to make Clay react.

"If Justin's dead, the none of the rest of it matters. " Clay..

He opens up.

Oh yeah I forgot Charlie is a junior.

AAAA COURTNEY AND RYAN ARE HERE!!! I MISS YOU GUYS!!!!!

SCOTTTTT!!!!!! And CHLOE TOO!! It’s nice that they come together. But they aren’t like, together, right? I mean if he is her boyfriend she would say his name right away to Zach instead of a mere ‘would you like to meet him? He’s outside.’

These 4 are such good friends to attend their friends’ graduation ceremony.

The punk guys in toga are so... Refreshing to look. Such hype men.

"It's easy to hate. It's easy to fear. It's goddamn hard to love. But it's not optional. It's essential." Jessica Davis, everybody.

Jeff, Hannah and Justin really died in the span of 2 years. Add to that is Bryce and Monty, whose deaths left uncountable traumas on top of existing traumas. Yeah. It was hellish time.

Scott’s proud small smile when Clay gives his speech. Im love.

"Choose to live. Even on the worst day, life is a pretty spectacular thing." Clay Jensen, everybody.

Ma boi Zach really teared up at Clay's speech. 

Luke and one of the punk kids talking about some geek thing I am not familiar with I-

“No offense Luke. You’ve got great arm but you haven’t been known for your brain.” PETER That BURNS LMAO

Poor Winston just being alone. OH HELLO RYAN YOU ARE FAST.

Zach is gonna study music! Nice foreshadowing since he plays a lot of music this season.

Clay having a gratitude moment with his parents and Scott be like munching cupcakes in the background.

Oh god Hannah ...

Wow the old tape gang is here!! The nostalgia hurts.

They bury the tapes on the same hill again asdfwosaiofai.

Kinda salty Sheri and Scott aren’t here. But then again I guess back then Scott was just helping Clay and co when he could and mostly minding his own business. HOWEVER isn’t Sheri like in the tape and pretty prominent too :(( Like she was really cool with Clay (despite the whole guilt over Jeff), tried to make amends and really helped with the polaroid cases.

Also you can't just insert Scott in Clay's dream and then not have them interact in the end. The dream was such a perfect bait. Like we know at least they apparently get along well.

Everything in Jessica’s final conversation with her Bryce hallucination. Everything in it.

Ryan: “Gordon Lightfoot?” Ha Ryan you miss a whole lot of drama.

Fuck I'm tearing up again at Justin's essay. He deadass makes an entire essay about Clay and how he is his savior I- 

Oh my god they end it exactly like S1 with Tony and Clay riding away. They are really each other’s ride or die.

That’s it. It’s over. It’s been a long trainwreck. So the 2019 class graduates, so does Justin, they are doing uni right now and keeping in touch with everyone. Bye.

[nickylovesrefugees]

Coronavirus myths and facts

I am writing this as a doctor with an interest in infectious diseases who is currently studying a masters of international public health. Myths and facts about COVID-19. Please share if you think this is worthwhile. References in link at the end.

MYTHS

Myth: “COVID-19 is just like getting the flu”

COVID-19 is not just like the flu! The symptoms are often similar, that’s true. But there are key differences:

Influenza

Mortality: 0.1%

Vaccine availability: Vaccine updated yearly

Scientific understanding: Excellent

R0: 1.2

COVID-19

Mortality: ~3%

Vaccine availability: Does not exist

Scientific understanding: Limited, highly unpredictable

R0:2-4

Note: R0 is the number of people that the average infected person then goes on to infect

So essentially - coronavirus is much more contagious, is many times more deadly, there’s no vaccine and it’s highly unpredictable.

Myth: “Coronavirus is killed by warm weather”

I saw this floating around in a chain email purportedly from “Stanford University”, which claimed that a temperature of 26 degrees would kill the virus. There is no evidence to suggest this. If this were the case, the virus would die inside our bodies (~36 degrees) and nobody would get sick… It is important to note also that the WHO points out that cold weather similarly does not kill the virus.

Myth: “Drinking warm water kills viruses”

Nope. Water doesn’t have any toxic effects, and warming it slightly doesn’t change that. Even if it did, the virus is in your airways, not your stomach.

Myth: “If you have a runny nose, you cannot have COVID-19”

Another ridiculous claim. In general, in medicine, never/always statements are rarely correct, especially when looking at symptoms. There are always variations in symptoms between different people in the real world.

Myth: “Hand sanitiser is better than soap and water”

False. It’s the other way around. Soap breaks down the fatty bilayer which forms the “envelope” or wall of the viral particle. It does this in a similar way to ethanol-based handwashes, but most commercial hand sanitisers have a lower ethanol content and are not as effective. To be effective against coronavirus, your hand sanitiser should have at least a 60% ethanol content.

Myth: “I’m young and healthy, if I get coronavirus I’ll be fine”

Many young people who get COVID-19 will suffer a flu-like illness and not need hospitalisation but there’s also strong evidence that young healthy people can also get very sick with COVID-19. For example, more than 50% of patients admitted to ICU in France were under 60.

Myth: “If you can hold your breath for ten seconds without coughing, you cannot have COVID-19”

If it were that easy to diagnose coronavirus, the hospital and GP system would be under a whole lot less pressure. Once again, these simple, “too good to be true” claims are exactly that.

Myth: “Antibiotics can treat COVID-19”

Antibiotics have no activity against viruses - they are used exclusively for bacteria. Occasionally, very unwell people with COVID-19 may develop superimposed bacterial infections in hospital, and is this setting antibiotics will be used. But this is to treat the bacterial pneumonia, not the COVID-19 infection. Currently, there are no WHO-recommended medications to treat COVID-19, although reports are coming out of some countries that some antivirals usually used in treatment of hepatitis or HIV may be beneficial.

FACTS

Fact: Ibuprofen should be avoided in patients with COVID-19.

Ibuprofen, sold under brand names such as nurofen or advil, is an NSAID (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug). It’s used for a variety of inflammatory conditions, and is also sometimes used for fever that is not responding to paracetamol. However, a paper was published on March 11 in the Lancet linking increased ACE2 levels (an enzyme that coronaviruses use to bind to target cells) with COVID-19 infection. This is relevant because ibuprofen can increase levels of ACE2, at least in rats. More research is needed in this area, but for now the WHO has recommended avoiding ibuprofenin COVID-19, and instead using paracetamol. This also implies that theremay be an argument for withholding ACE-Inhibitors (a common blood pressure medication) but the European Society of Cardiology recommends that they are continued.

Fact: Healthcare workers on the front line are doing their absolute best in a very difficult time.

Many of my best friends are working on the front lines as junior doctors, GPs, emergency or medical registrars, nurses, pharmacists and other allied health professions. They are doing their best, but the situation is constantly evolving, and guidelines continue to do change. As such, they may not test you for COVID-19 when you are expecting a test, or otherwise treat you in some way that differs from your expectations. Rest assured that they are working very hard to keep up to date, and to behave in a manner that prioritises not only your health, but also public health and the best possible allocation of resources. Please be patient and honest with, and kind to, them in these challenging times. Speaking as one of them, we really do care about you.

Fact: Panic buying deprives vulnerable people of vital necessities, and is completely unnecessary.

I’ve touched on this earlier, but please do not hoard groceries. Many elderly or people with disabilities do not have the luxury or option of visiting multiple stores, so if they go to a supermarket that has had its shelves cleared out, they have no backup option and may be forced to go without. If everyone were to return to how they shopped a month ago, everyone would have enough food!! The supermarkets never run out of pasta or toilet paper normally, and they will stop running out if people just shop normally. The supermarkets are not going to close, there is no need to hoard food.

Fact: We still have a lot of control over what happens over the next few weeks.

Here, we must learn from the examples of other countries. If we continue to treat COVID-19 with the same cavalier attitude, continuing to attend large events, public places like gyms, churches etc, we will follow in the footsteps of Italy, which now has over 30,000 cases and over 2,500 dead. The death toll there is now climbing by hundreds per day. On the other hand, a combination of widespread closures and shutdown measures, combined with individuals taking responsibility to do their absolute best, will see us closer to countries like Singapore or South Korea, which have dramatically curbed their cases.

Fact: Social distancing will save lives.

Social distancing will dramatically reduce coronavirus spread. This works both because undiagnosed cases of COVID-19 have less opportunity to spread, and because uninfected people have less opportunity to encounter coronavirus as you go about your life. So please take it seriously, even if you are feeling perfectly well. Stay home unless it is absolutely essential that you leave the house. Wash your hands often, with soap and water. Avoid touching your face.

In summary, we need to make informed, evidence-based decisions to combat this pandemic. It poses grave public health risks if not taken seriously, but we can do a lot to mitigate these risks. This needs to be led by Government, but in the absence of decisive leadership there, we must take the lead ourselves. But our response needs to be one that continues to look after the needs of our most vulnerable members of the community.

[miss-tricksy]

Roll to Me

A/N: This is for @cleighwrites ThANGSTgiving Writing Challenge. I chose Dean. My lyric was “And I don’t think I have ever seen a soul so in despair”, Del Amitri, Roll to Me. I was totally struggling with recalling this song by name, but if you look it up, you’ll go ‘duh’ too.

A/N 2: This is my first challenge submission EVER. Please be gentle. Would love to know what you think. There is so much awesome writing on tumblr and it’s a little terrifying to try to even dream of comparing this to any of that.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of smut, mutual pining

Summary: Demon Dean reaches out to Reader, Dean tries to comes to terms with his feelings.

Your phone screen lit up, showing a picture from some random day six or seven years before. Gorgeous car, gorgeous backdrop, gorgeous guy. You can’t help the smile in your voice, despite your grogginess, “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Is that your sex voice I hear?”

“Uh, that’s my you woke me up because it’s,” you glance at the clock on the beautiful wood-like nightstand your hotel room it outfitted with, “two thirty-seven. Thought old guys like you were in bed before the ten o’clock news.”

You hear Dean’s throaty chuckle. “Not really my style, darling. Been spending some time howling at the moon, so to speak.”

You grab at the low hanging fruit, “You guys hunting weres? Thought I might have saw something like that going down in the U.P.”

More with the growly laughing. “Not exactly. Wanted to see if you want to meet up with me?”

“Just wrapped up a situation with some witches near Little Rock.” You do a quick mental calculation. “I can be at the Bunker by tomorrow night. Tell Sam to wash my sheets with the good fabric softener.”

“Not quite what I had in mind, babe.”

Babe? You couldn’t help but wonder about that particular endearment.

“Oh, o-kay….what did you have in mind, then?”

You checked that the phone hadn’t dropped the call. Several seconds passed by before your heard Dean’s voice again. “You can’t even imagine what I want to do to you, Y/N/N. Been thinking about you for weeks now. Can’t get that silver dress you wore in Vegas out of my head.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek, to be sure you weren’t dreaming. Sam Winchester may have known about the HUGE crush you had on his brother. But the elder of the pair had never once hinted that he reciprocated. Before you could ask about the strange behavior, your phone buzzed. Funny enough Sam’s face flashed across your screen.

“Hey, Dean, Sam’s calling. Aren’t you together?”

“What the….you can ignore that sweetheart. Baby bro probably is just geeking out over some book at the bunker. Loser.”

You were used to Dean giving Sam a hard time in person, but usually he was kind of a fan girl when he talked about Sam.

“Hey, sweetheart, you still there?”

“Uh, ya.” Sam would probably call back. The boys were probably fighting and they just needed to vent.

“Good so, how about you meet me in Joplin tomorrow around lunch. You bring the whiskey, and I’ll bring the condoms.”

If you had been taking a sip of the water on your nightstand, you’d have done a spit take.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t be cheap either. I wiped the floor with a couple guys tonight. I’m flush. I’ll pay you back. See you soon, Y/N.”

The phone flashed ‘Call Ended.’ You found yourself muttering as you got up to search for the phone charger that had come unplugged. Dean might have joked and flirted with you over the years, but there had never been such blatant innuendos made. Maybe he had had a few too many tonight. You debated about calling Sam back but figured it could wait until morning. His call earlier had probably been to warn you that Dean was in a mood. Once you had taken a couple swigs of your leftover iced coffee, probably regrettably, you crawled back in to your lumpy bed, trying to shake off the uneasiness that call had left you with.

            **************** 

The next morning you woke feeling surprisingly well-rested. Talking to Dean always gave you a little extra comfort, though the longer you wallowed in the scratchy sheets, the more you wondered about Dean’s remarks the night before. After packing the rest of your things and grabbing a surprisingly not-terrible muffin and coffee at the motel’s ‘lounge,’ you pointed your Jeep north. You shaved about 20 minutes off your GPS’s arrival time as you neared the Kansas border. You were merging in to traffic headed toward Tulsa before you remembered your conversation with Dean. He said to meet him in Joplin. Weird. Once you were back up to cruising speed and traffic had thinned out, you dialed Sam up, figuring Dean would be a bit hungover from the night before.

“Hey Y/N/N, what took you so long to call me back?” Sam sounded irritated.

“I didn’t know it was urgent. I talked to Dean last night, figured he’d let you know what’s up.”

“You what- when- where are you right now, Y/N?”

“Chill Sam. Use your words.”

“Seriously, for your sake and mine, where are you?”

“I’m on my way to the bunker. Left Little Rock first thing this morning. Why would Dean want me to meet him in Joplin?”

“He’s in Joplin?”

“I guess. What’s going on? You guys are being weird.”

“Listen, I need you to not come to the bunker. And definitely don’t head to Joplin. And don’t answer any more calls form my brother.”

“Sam you’re really freaking me out right now.”

“It’s a long story and I have to move on this info. Did you make any arrangements with him about where you’re meeting?”

“No. Just that I’d be there around lunch time.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m going to e-mail you some instructions. Do exactly as I say, please. Keep me posted if Dean contacts you. There’s a safe house we have in Lawrence. I’ll text you the address and security code. Get there as quick as you can, Y/N. I mean it.”

Sam’s little monologue had you totally freaked out. Something big was happening, and as per usual two of your favorite people seemed to be smack in the middle of it. 

       ***************** 

Walking in to the tiny house in Lawrence felt more than strange. It was in a middle-class neighborhood full of families with kids. You couldn’t help but wonder what the neighbors thought of this place. There was a layer of dust over almost everything, but upon inspection the electricity worked and there was hot water. You carried in your laptop and the lunch you had got at some overpriced drive-thru. You had to admit that the sandwich was good but the coffee was not the best. You settled in to the couch with a movie you had seen a million times before, stretching the car ride out of your muscles. You were just comfortable when Sam’s picture popped up on your phone.

“Hey, Sam, care to fill me in on just what crazy crap you guys are tangled up in right now?”

“No. Not really. Listen, I know you just rolled in to Lawrence but any chance you could make yourself scarce. As in get out of the Midwest for a while?”

“Seriously, Sam,” you started, then heard Dean’s muffled voice growling at Sam to take the cuffs off.

“Wait, is that you brother. Why is he cuffed?”

“Um, it’s like I said, long story,” Sam tried to weasel his way out of an explanation.

“Sam what is going on? I talked to Dean last night. Then you tell me I need to get to Kansas, and now I need to get out of Kansas? I’m getting some seriously mixed signals.”

“I know, Y/N/N. Can you just trust me on this?”

“Sam you’re the closest thing to family I have. I would really like to be in the loop here.”

“Okay, give me three days, then head to the bunker. And bring some holy water just in case.”

“Holy wa-,” the line went dead before you could finish your question.

You trusted the Winchesters with your life so you decided you could stay put for a couple days. You spent the rest of the evening washing sheets and towels and all of your clothes. (Only half-charmed by the fact that there was a washer and dryer and your favorite fabric softener stashed in a small laundry room.)

You spent your second day checking in with contacts and following up on a couple leads you had. Turned out the werewolves you thought might be partying in Michigan were actual wolves that some local had over exaggerated. You passed on wind of a coven near Boston to your friend Katie. Forwarded some reports of what you thought might be actual Selkies in the San Francisco Bay area. Your job was really freaking weird sometimes.

By lunchtime on day three you were pretty much bored out of your skull. Everything you had in your possession was cleaned, polished, sharpened, oiled and any other adjective you could come up with. Seriously, even your boots had gotten a nice rub down with some extra gun oil. You figured you had given your favorite brothers time to sort out the mess they were in, or at least make a good start. You decided to give Dean a call, see if he would be a little more forthcoming with details than his younger counterpart. Three numbers and no answers later, you couldn’t help but be a little irritated.

Sam picked up on the fourth ring. He sounded exhausted. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Don’t what’s up me Samuel Toronto Winchester.”

“Toronto?”

“I can never remember. And don’t distract me. I am about five seconds from hopping on the freeway and busting down the door of your Batcave. What is going on?!”

“Dean died.”

Your knees gave out and you sank against the kitchen counter. “He’s gone……and you didn’t call me?”

“I said he died. I didn’t say he’s dead.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve known you for a damn long time Sam or I would think you’ve lost it. Explain.”

“He died. Became a demon. Knight of Hell actually. I’ve been trying to track him down for a while now.”

“That is…still not enough information. Why do you have me on lockdown in Apple Pie Land?”

“I was just trying to keep you safe Y/N. Dean has been sleeping and slicing his way through the Plains like it’s his job. I didn’t know how he would react if he caught up with you.”

“So now what Sam?”

“I got him back to the Bunker, started him on what we think was a demon cure. He seems to be back to himself, for the most part. I would feel better if you stayed in Lawrence a couple more days.”

“Sam I’m going nuts here. How about I take a couple days and check some drop boxes I’ve got that aren’t too far. Could I head to the bunker say, middle of next week?”

“I think that’s doable. Just know that Dean’s really shaken up by this whole thing. He knows he did a lot of shady stuff while he was dark. I don’t know if he’ll be up to company, but you’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Okay, well. Let me know if anything changes. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll bring you a case of that beer you like from Texas.”

“Bye Y/N. Be safe.”

                   ************************ 

You spent the next few days being true to your word. You logged way too many interstate miles. Checked every mailbox you had, even one the Winchesters had given you the key to that was kind of out of your way. For some reason it was stuffed full with some cooking magazine, with Y/N Winchester as the subscription holder. You stopped by a couple surplus stores and loaded up on water and non-perishables. You even got a couple packs of t-shirts and socks for your two favorite fellas. Theirs always seemed to be one step away from growing ‘stuff.’

By Tuesday you had circled back around to Lebanon. You dropped in at a cute little bakery the boys favored. Pie for Dean and a mix of cookies that Sam would pretend weren’t on his diet but wouldn’t last two days. You got a few sandwich rolls and a tub of chicken salad that was made there, too. At least you wouldn’t starve at the ultimate bachelor pad. You figured you ought to let the boys know you were incoming.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sam. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be there soon. Got an empty spot in that awesome garage I can park?”

“Sure thing.” He paused like he was getting ready to tell you your puppy died while you were at summer camp. “Just, don’t be surprised if Dean is a little, weird, I guess. He’s been drinking already today and seems to be a real Debbie Downer pretty much all the time. I don’t know what to do with him. Or for him. Just, I know he wouldn’t want you to get here and think it’s your fault he’s depressed or whatever.”

You couldn’t help smiling a little. “Of course not, Sam. I’ll just have to kick his ass a little. Open the garage door for me, I’ll be there in five.”

                     ****************** 

Sam helped you get your Jeep unpacked and your things settled in to the room you had claimed dibs on. And someone had washed your sheets, it smelled pretty good in your room, actually. Sam almost ran you over as you stepped into the hall to head for the shower. The Men of Letters water pressure was to die for and you were convinced that the water heater was enchanted somehow.

“Sorry, Y/N. Hey, listen,” Sam tucked his hair behind his ear, a move you knew was a nervous tic of his. “Would you feel okay here with Dean by yourself? I haven’t left in days just trying to keep an eye on him. I need some fresh air and I don’t even know. Just a break I guess.”

“What are best friends for Sam. I was going to shower real quick. Any chance you guys have some frozen pizzas stashed in one of those enormous freezers?”

Sam couldn’t seem to stifle a grin at you expense, while he swept you into a big hug. He was your second favorite person to hug in the whole world. “I hope you never change, Y/N/N. Pizza’s on the bottom shelf. Call me if something comes up.” He kissed the side of your head and walked off.

You decided to kill two birds with one stone and throw the pizza in while you showered. You cranked the oven, tossed the pizza in and headed down the hall, fiddling with your phone to set a timer. You shrieked when you hit something solid.

“Hey sweetheart, sorry I scared you.”

You breathed out his name. “Dean, hey. I wondered if you were hiding from me.” You couldn’t help but tug the lapels of the robe you had on self-consciously.

“Why would I hide from you? You’re my best girl. I mean best girl friend.” He hiccupped. “Ha, I mean best friend who is a girl.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if the blush on his cheeks was because of the slip-up or the whiskey you could smell on his breath. “Right. Anyway. I have a pizza in the oven and was heading to shower. And I’m down to like,” you glanced at your phone, “seven minutes. You want to share?” Then your own nerves kicked in. “I meant share the pizza, not the um, the shower thing.”

Dean gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. Almost disappointed. “How about you shower, I’ll set us up pizza and whatever in the Dean cave.”

“The what?”

“The Dean Cave™. Three doors down from your room. You’ll love it.”

           ******************* 

Showered and feeling the most relaxed you’d been since leaving Little Rock, you followed your nose to the Dean Cave. When you stepped through the door you couldn’t help but giggle. “You weren’t kidding, were you? This is…perfect for you, De. You pulled out all the stops, huh.” You could tell he was trying not to be too proud of himself, but the big grin he was wearing gave it away. It was one of your favorite smiles in the whole world. He had plates and glasses on a small table between two enormous recliners. Pizza, beer and the pie you thought you had smuggled in were on a side table. You couldn’t help your own smile, while you fixed a plate and got comfy in a big chair. “Mind if I play some music?”

“As long as it’s not the crap you play in your car.”

“What other music is there?” you joked. You liked a lot of stuff, but the country music you had been bombarded with over the last week was getting old. “I made a cool mix. You’ll know some of these songs, they came out when you were in high school.”

“Oh, jeez, the nineties, really. I thought you had better taste than that.”

“Hey punk, there was some good stuff. I didn’t say you had to dance or anything. Just some background music.”

“Fine. Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

                     *********************

You spent the next hour regaling Dean with some of the more interesting things you had been up to since your last Bunker visit. “And that is pretty much everything since we worked that weird mummy case in Vegas.” You adjusted your legs and missed Dean tensing up. “So, am I allowed to ask about you? Or are we going to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, De?”

Dean tried to glare at you like he wanted to cut this conversation short. You really were one of his favorite people, and he didn’t want to let you down with tales of Demon Dean. “I’m sure Sam gave you the highlights.” He rubbed his hand across his neck, his version of the Winchester tic. You realized he was refusing to meet your eyes.

“I was just. Checking in with you, I guess. Sam said you’ve been, um. Been drinking. More than usual. And the only reason you’re eating with me is because I asked. You would have liked to tap out already.”

“Y/N I love hanging out with you. It’s just. It sounds stupid, but I guess I’m just trying to find a way to atone for my actions. His actions. I don’t know. I did a lot of stupid, horrible things. Nothing I’m proud of. I practically called you up for a booty call. That probably wouldn’t have ended well for you. Guess I couldn’t keep you off my mind even when I was a demon.”

You watched Dean all through his self-deprecating speech. He looked at the hole in the knee of his jeans the entire time. When he finally did glance up, you couldn’t stop yourself, you mouthed along with the song that had started playing “And I don't think I have ever seen a soul so in despair.” That seemed to break something in him, and you noticed the tears start rolling down his cheeks. You reached out to grab his hand, calluses snagging. “You don’t know the half of it sweetheart.”

You tugged on his hand and he sunk to his knees in front of you. He hugged around your waist and you used the edge of your shirt to wipe up some of his tears. You leaned down, tucking his head under your chin. “Actually, I do know the half of it. And in case you didn’t notice I keep coming back.”

“Well, then I guess the other line in that song is about me too.” You leaned back into your seat, giving him a questioning look. “Wrong guy, wrong situation.”

“Ya, no. You are definitely the right guy,” you glanced away shyly, “for someone.”

You felt Dean’s hands slide down your thighs. “I doubt that, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath and met his eyes. They were watery and red-rimmed, but always a spectacular jade. “You are the other, other guy De. The songs about having someone you can count on.” It was his turn to look away. You grabbed his chin, spinning his face around. “When the engine’s stalled and it won’t stop raining…you are always my first call. When I get a huge win. Or have to lick my wounds. You’ve got my back.” You hoped the smile you gave him wasn’t giving too much away.

“Y/N, I am no good for someone as great as you. I literally called you two weeks ago, because I was a demon. He wanted to sink his teeth into you. And not the fun way.” Dean wiped his eyes, with the back of his hand. “What would I have done, then?”

“Well, we were gonna have booze and condoms. Think I know what we would have been doing.” You seemed to have the bad habit of putting your foot in your mouth around Dean. You leaned over to kiss the top of Dean’s head, trying to make a hasty escape. “See you in the morning, De.”

               *************** 

Dean spent a couple minutes on the floor trying to make sense of your conversation. He worked at gathering up the mess the two of you had made, realizing you hadn’t touched the pie. He always seemed to get distracted when you were around. As he stashed the last of the trash in the bin, he tripped across something rather dazedly. You had agreed to meet him, well the demon version of him, with the intention of hooking up. Maybe you thought he had just been messing around. Huh.

              *************** 

You were just starting to drift off in the awesome mattress you discovered had been replaced since your last visit, when a timid knock caught your attention. You shifted up in the bed, making sure your lack of pants wasn’t obvious, and called, “Come in.”

Dean’s shadow appeared in your doorway, and you squinted to actually see his features in the dim light.

“You were going to meet me in Joplin. Why didn’t you question it?”

“I figured you needed back up on a case or something.”

“You didn’t question the condoms. Then or tonight. Why?”

You could feel yourself flush at the insinuation. “I just figured you were screwing around. You make jokes with me all the time.”

“Not about having sex with you.”

“Well, I know. But other jokes. Flirty things when we go out to a bar. Or things you find online and send me.”

“But I don’t joke about having sex, not with you.”

You weren’t sure what the big deal was. And Dean’s face was still in shadow. “Sorry, I guess. I shouldn’t have joked about it either, won’t happen again,” you apologized.

While you were talking Dean closed the door behind him, plunging you into all but blackness. The bed dipped near your knees, and you suppressed a squeak of surprise. As your eyes adjusted to the near pitch dark, you could see Dean’s shoulders sagging. “Hey,” you nudged him with your leg, hoping he could see your smile, “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I just thought, you know, we joke and kid around and if I crossed a line, I will definitely try to avoid that kind of joke in the future.”

Dean found your hand that was tucked in to your lap. Leave it to him to have cat-like night vision. “I, uh.” Dean cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the bed, squeezing your hand just a little. “I’m not mad, it’s just.” Another cough, and you thought you heard him mumble ‘get it together, man.’

“De, can I turn the light on. Or you turn the light on. I’m just in a t-shirt here.” The light clicked on and your eyes adjusted as Dean sat back down. You grabbed his hand back, loving that little bit of contact. “It’s just you and me here. What’s got you all tongue-tied?”

Dean took another breath. “Sex with you will never be something I joke about, because I can’t possibly imagine anything more serious in my life. I mean. You are so beautiful. And perfect and just thinking about and knowing it would never happen makes it too hard to joke about.”

You were sure he got that out in one exhale. Your buzz from earlier seemed to wear off quite quickly. You made sure Dean was looking you in the eye when you replied, “It would never be a joke to me. It would be, what’s the word?” You hoped Dean was reading your expression loud and clear. “Kind of a dream come true.”

Dean continued to stare at you, like he couldn’t believe his ears. “I….What?”

“I said that would be a dream come true for me. Why do you think I keep coming back around, De? It’s not for the beautiful balcony view. Or the great eats. It’s because it’s where you are.” You tugged on the hand you were still holding bringing Dean’s mouth within inches of your own. “Kiss me, please, tell me I didn’t read this wrong.”

Dean leaned in and between wet presses of his beautiful mouth gasped “Read it….totally….right….I’m an idiot….god you’re gorgeous….taste so good….”

[icecoldflames]

The Pinnae Flower Chapter 2, Pt. 1

Masterlist

Updates, A Small Headcanon, and a Top Secret Mission

Hallelujah! Raz Keeran, the deity themself, has finally tweeted more about PS! My crops are watered, there’s money in the bank, and the long-awaited summer is here! It’s time to lean back, relax, theorize and post on this blog more often.

On Raz’s Twitter (all authors seem to have Twitter’s, don’t they?), they posted this tweet:

“A little excerpt from PS:

“He had a ball clutched in his right paw. ‘You can’t be serious,’ Kaida grimaced. But then she saw the stone dragon blink ever so slowly. Right before her eyes, the stone fell away to reveal a shimmering red dragon.”

Can I say we called it? Dragons. Kaida. OMG. I am pumped for this final instalment.

Now that we know this is canon (it seems almost surreal), Logan and I have come up with a headcanon. Not a totally big one—but one all the same.

What if the azure flower that grew in PTNE was grown by the dragons and Kaida? I know that most people believe that it was the sprite king (rightly so, since sprites in this universe work with plants).

But then Logan brought my attention to one little part from the ending of PTNE:

“Funny how a war—a war which left many dead and hurt in many more ways than physically—could bring two old friends back together again. Arel looked at Parisa and Parisa looked at Arel. It was odd how such a terrible occurrence could bring back old friendships.

Arel almost didn’t notice the sudden wind, seemingly there one second and gone the next. The only way he knew it was there was that Parisa’s shorn hair blew up in her face.

The silence was just about unbearable and Arel felt words in his mouth, wanting to spill out and be heard. Parisa tucked some hair behind her ear and began fiddling with her grandmother’s ring. Arel immediately relaxed at the sight of such a familiar action.

The words bubbled up and this time Arel let them out. It was in that same moment that Parisa lifted her head and began speaking too.

“I’m so so sorry.”

Arel could feel the air around them thinning. As if the magic words had finally been spoken and the blanket was finally being lifted. He began to take the first steps to cross the short distance between him and his best friend.

It was in that moment that something moved in the grass. It couldn’t have been the wind—the wind had come and gone like that and the clearing was back to it’s motionless self. Arel stopped dead in his tracks and Parisa’s eyes shot down to look as well. She finally looked at ease too.

Arel watched as the grass shifted again. A green stem was breaking through the soil. It was like someone had filmed the growth of a flower and then sped it up to take mere seconds. The stem rose up and up and a bud seemed to materialize from nowhere.

Both Arel and Parisa watched in stunned silence as an azure flower bloomed right before their eyes.

Now, a lot of Pinnies think this is symbolism to Arel and Parisa’s regrowth of friendship, per say—the Pinnae flower being cut symbolizing their fall out and the azure flower their regrowth.

But Logan and I think that that azure flower was not meant for Arel and Parisa. In fact, we think the flower was aimed at King Oberon and Queen Titania. After all, the azure flower was the flower King Oberon used to propose to Queen Titania.

Perhaps this flower wasn’t meant to symbolize Arel and Parisa’s rebirth as friends but to the King and Queen’s reconciliation with each other.

Now, you might ask: why did the flower sprout in between Arel and Parisa if it was meant for the Fairy King and the Sprite Queen?

Well, back in that excerpt, Arel notices a sudden wind. Could that have knocked the magical seed off course? Could the wind have come from a dragon’s wings?

In any case, I cannot wait to read Raz’s next book.

Also, just a note: Logan and I are going on a top secret mission over summer so my posts might be even more sporadic than usual. I hope that we’ll have some tea to spill when we get back.

Thanks for reading my loyal plebeians,

Prince Roman Falco

~~~

Logan felt sick to the stomach. And it wasn’t because the plane was making its descent down. This is wrong, Logan thought to himself. So wrong. But Logan’s pride was stronger than his logic.

Roman, on the other hand, looked absolutely ecstatic. He couldn’t stop moving; fooling with the air conditioner, making repetitive sounds with his hands and feet, and constantly getting up to use the bathroom (it didn’t help that Roman had the window seat and Logan was in the isle).

Logan wished that he could just turn the plane back around and go straight home.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He refused to let Roman get the better of him.

Logan would find Raz to show Roman he could. He’d figure out how to stop Roman from leaking such classified information after the fact.

He gripped the armrest tightly and he wished that his pride and ego weren’t so big. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He supposed, though, that if Raz were to live anywhere, Mayflower Town was an okay place to spend summer vacation along with finding out who Raz actually was.

In the airport, Logan felt a bit better with himself. Roman and him bought some doughnuts in the airport along with coffee before getting in a taxi to pick up their rental car: a red, clunky, Byrne Road.

And then they were off down the highway towards Raz’s maybe, probably, hopefully, hometown.

“And you’re sure this is where Raz lives?” Roman asked from the driver’s seat. He took a sip of his coffee.

Logan turned down the blaring pop song coming out of the radio without looking up from his computer. “Almost positive.”

“And what facts point to here? That Raz actually lives here?” Roman questioned once again.

Logan sighed and clicked a single button on his computer before looking up at his best friend. His stare burned the side of Roman’s head.

“Listen, I’m almost sure Raz lives here. What more do you want?” Logan said, grimacing. He didn’t want to tell Roman about theazureflower. It felt almost too personal to tell.

While they had been at the airport, waiting to board the plane, Logan and Roman had put together another post of “The Prince’s Crown”.

He and Roman had multiple headcanons they put in a shared document online whenever they thought of something. It was just shorthand and had no real sources, but it made thinking of post ideas much easier than thinking of headcannons out of thin air.

Then, all they had to do to make a post was to find some sources from the books and type it up.

Roman huffed. “Do you not have any facts? Honestly, I would have thought you, Logan—“

Logan clenched his jaw and he could feel his blood begin to boil. “This is where Raz lives, Roman.” He snapped. “Why are you suddenly now just questioning everything I say and do?”

“Because you were the one who was so against this whole thing—trying to find Raz and all that.” Roman argued. His knuckles holding the steering wheel were almost white.

“I said I’d help you find him!” Logan exclaimed, his voice loud and brash.

Roman went silent.

Logan dipped his head back to his computer and continued to type, trying to ignore the deafening stillness that had fallen over the vehicle.

They stayed quiet for the entirety of the ride until they passed the sign, welcoming them to Mayflower Town.

It seemed more like grim proof that Logan was doing something terrible than a welcome sign with bright colours and stickers.

“Turn right to go to our hotel,” Logan forced himself to say. But he didn’t look up from his screen. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

Roman followed Logan’s emotionless instructions and kept on following them as Logan kept reading out the directions like a human GPS.

The hotel was three stars. Roman wouldn’t settle for anything less. And even then, he had not wanted to even step foot in less than a four star but Logan had insisted on the three star—saying that the three star was much cheaper and better for a prolonged stay somewhere other than buying an apartment.

It was only a couple floors high and was between a barber shop and a bar. Across, was a cafe titled “Patton-ly Perfect”. Logan almost groaned out loud at the pun.

Roman and Logan signed into the hotel, still an icy barrier between the two. They unpacked in a similar manner.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop across the road.” Logan said suddenly, creating a crack in the ice.

Roman nodded eagerly. “I could go for some caffeine and some pastries right now.”

The ice seemed temporarily thawed and they both walked across the street with tentative conversation—as if they were first meeting and unsure what exactly to say.

Logan walked in, a bell tinkling above, and was hit with two things: the colour blue and the smell of fresh bread and pastries.

The place was quaint and small and reminded Logan of a garden with all kinds of flowers and wood. There was a fish tank in the corner too with goldfish.

“Woah,” Roman breathed next to Logan. “This place is awesome.” He did a 360 and tentatively touched a lily in a flower pot next to him. “This reminds me so much of ‘Fairy Tales and Fantasy Books’.”

A man popped up from behind the counter on the far wall. He had on a smile that seemed to illuminate the whole room. “Welcome!” He exclaimed.

“Uh, hello.” Logan nodded and walked closer to the man.

The man cocked his head to the side before seemingly smiling even brighter—if that was possible. “You two are new.”

“Yeah! We’re here on a vacation!” Roman exclaimed. Then, “this place is super cool.”

“Thanks!” The man said. He took off his apron that said ‘I loaf you dough much’ before going around his counter and holding out his hand to Roman.

They shook hands. “I’m Patton.” The man said. He was still smiling.

“Roman.” Roman nodded. “Nice to meet you.

Patton then went over to Logan and extended his hand. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Logan said. “Logan.”

“Great to see some new faces!” Patton exclaimed. “We don’t often get newcomers, to be honest. What brings you here to our little corner of the USA?”

Logan wanted to say that Mayflower Town was not in the corner of anywhere, but bit his tongue.

Roman glanced over to Logan before looking back at Patton. He shrugged. “Just wanted a change of scenery that wouldn’t be too crowded with buildings and people.”

Patton nodded, genuinely listening. “Ah. Well, you’ve definitely got the right town. This place is absolutely great—“

The bell rang again and another man comes through the door. He was tall, taller than Logan. His hair was mussed and he had on a massive hoodie that seemed a couple sizes too large. He went around Logan, Roman, and Patton and gruffly hopped over the counter.

Logan stared at Patton then back at the strange man who was...breaking and entering in the middle of the day while the owner was inside?

But Patton just smiled even wider and turned around to look at the man. He doesn’t even seem to be bothered. “That’s Virgil. One of the regulars. I make him his coffee and put it separately away in the corner.” He turned around to look at Virgil. “Hi Virgil! Look we’ve got two new visitors!”

“Hey Pat,” Virgil mumbled and he grabbed a black coffee cup and began pouring his coffee into it.

“This is Roman and Logan,” Patton explained, pointing to each one of them.

“Hi.” Is all Virgil said before walking around the counter and settling himself at a corner table with just one chair and a flower pot in the center of the table. In the pot, the flower was obviously fake with clear, mesh-like petals with white veins running through it.

Patton turned back to Logan and Roman. His eyes were dancing and his mouth was upwards into a smile still. “Would you like anything? Pastries? Drinks?”

“What kind of stuff do you have?” Roman asked, walking over to the counter where, to the left, the pastries were behind glass.

Logan saw Berliners, croissants, all kinds of pies, cakes, and even some churros.

He expected Roman to ask for churros—like back home. But Logan is surprised when Roman says, “how ‘bout a piece of lemon meringue pie?”

Patton grins and opens the glass to take out a slice. “I have another regular who comes, Penny, and this is her favourite pie. She comes here to write.” He added in absentmindedly.

It was as if an electric shock went through Roman and Logan because, instantly, they glanced over at each other with wide eyes.

Patton didn’t seem to notice the exchange as he was jabbering on about botanists and his flowers in his cafe. He took a slice of pie and put it on a plate that seems to be made of pottery. “Here you go. What about you Logan? There’s plenty to go around.”

Logan glanced inside the glass before looking up at the menus which were hanging from the ceiling. “I think I’ll have...the blueberry muffin please.”

He then began thinking of ways he could possibly bring up Penny as Patton walked over to the muffin stand. Could she possibly be Raz Keeran?

Roman, on the other hand was not so discreet. As Patton was beginning to walk back to Logan, he blurted out. “So what does Penny write? Stories?”

Logan actually made a sound out loud. Somewhere between a dying whale and an overexcited chimpanzee.

Patton was too preoccupied putting the muffin on a plate and Roman wasn’t paying attention at all. But Virgil, all the way on the other side of the cafe, swivelled his head and glanced over at Logan with a weird expression on his face that he couldn’t read.

Logan’s face immediately went red.

Patton slid over the plate across the counter to Logan while looking at Roman. “Dunno. She comes in here everyday with a computer. She tells me she’s writing something but never tells me what.” He shrugged before smiling once again. “Enjoy your food!”

Roman and Logan found a table for two, in the other corner across from Virgil. They made sure to be as secluded as humanly possible before discussing about Keeran’s identity.

It still made Logan shiver—the thought of finding Keeran when they obviously didn’t want to be found—but the whole mystery was beginning to get to him. It was like he was a real life Sherlock Holmes, solving a mystery.

He hated himself for it yet, he realized with a sinking sense of despair, he wanted to solve this mystery.

Logan had always said he hated hypocrites. And he tried his darned hardest to not be one. But was he a hypocrite now? After all those years telling Roman that finding Keeran was wrong and now he suddenly wanted to do so?

Logan bit a large bite out of his muffin and tried to chew as slow as humanly possible.

What had changed? Why was he so suddenly feeling different about finding Keeran? Was it actually being out in the field instead of being home, Keeran feeling so far out of reach? Or was it that somewhere, deep inside, Logan had always wanted to figure out Keeran’s identity?

Logan swallowed hard. He suddenly felt cold but sweaty and congested in an almost empty cafe.

“It’s Penny.” Roman said before shoving some pie into his mouth. “I didn’t think it would be this obvious. Would’ve thought it would be a tougher case to crack”

Logan didn’t say a word and let Roman babble on and on.

“I mean, this Penny person comes into this cafe and writes something but Patton doesn’t know? Pretty obvious if you ask me.

“I think our best bet is to have a stake out here to figure out who Penny is.” Roman continued. “And then, we’ll need some cold hard proof to show. So maybe a picture of her computer with some unseen scenes from the fifth book or maybe some stuff from the previous books or—“ he paused and looked at Logan as if he only just now realized he was sitting across from him. “What do you think about Penny?”

It took a moment for Logan to snap back into reality—to snap out of the spiral downwards his thoughts were taking. But, soon he processed Roman’s question. “I don’t know. But, you’re right about one thing: I don’t think it’s supposed to be this obvious. Or, this whole thing is going to be a lot harder than we thought.”

“But it totally is Penny,” Roman concluded with his air of importance. “It’s gotta be.”

It doesn’t have to be, Logan thought to himself but didn’t say out loud. He decided that he’d work on this mystery alone. He’d figure out who Raz Keeran really was and not tell Roman. Therefore, the secret wouldn’t be out. Only he’d know. Only Logan. The whole idea kind of excited him.

Logan could trust himself and his self-control to not leak information about Keeran. Roman, on the other hand, was not so reliable.

“Yeah...sure…” Logan nodded, not really paying attention.

Roman took another bite of his pie and when he spoke again crumbs spewed everywhere. “Should we just stay here or explore this town a bit?”

Logan had no intention of finding Raz Keeran on the first day—whether it was Penny or not—so he said “let’s head out.” He grabbed the rest of his muffin and Roman quickly inhaled the rest of his pie.

They quickly paid for their desserts, Virgil eyeing them wearily, before heading out to explore their new surroundings.

~~~

What Roman noticed first was that everyone was so nice.

The florist through the window smiled and waved as they passed. The librarian suggested they come in and borrow some books (Roman had to physically restrain Logan from going inside). The man selling fresh eggs and milk on the side of the road offered them a sample of the milk. The busker at the corner nodded his head in acknowledgement. Every passerby smiled a full toothed smile. Not one of those “I accidentally looked into your eyes so I’m going to give you a closed lipped smile” smile.

“It’s kind of off-putting, to be honest.” Logan muttered when Roman said this to him. “No one can be that nice.”

“Actually, they can.” Roman said. “Why are you always so negative?” He sighed.

“I’m not negative.” Logan said. “I’m a realist.”

“Negative, realist.” Roman said, putting one hand up then the other. “Tomato, tomato.”

Logan’s face scrunched up almost cartoon-like. “What? No. They aren’t the same thing. Being negative is always seeing the negative. Being a realist is using facts. If something is 100% good, then it’s good. Fact. No one can be this happy, though. Another fact.”

Roman sighed over-dramatically. “Whatever. But I love this town. It’s great.”

Logan nodded curtly. “No doubt about that. It’s very quaint and small.”

The words were out of Roman’s mouth before he could stop himself. “I wouldn’t mind living here.”

Logan didn’t make a vocal reaction but Roman noticed how his shoulders stiffened and his hands found his jean pockets.

“I mean,” Roman amended quickly. “It would be fun living here if I had to choose somewhere else other than where we live now.”

Logan didn’t seem to relax much.

Roman was planning on continuing his babbling but a building in the distance caught his eye. “Woah, is that a mansion?” He eagerly pointing in the near distance like a toddler pointing at a brightly coloured candy at the store.

Logan put his hand up to block the sun in his eyes to look to where Roman had pointed.

In the distance a gleaming white building stood tall and proud—like royalty in the midst of peasants. The windows were two-way and Roman could see a part of a parking lot-esque style space peeking out from behind the building.

“Do you think that’s Raz’s place?” Roman breathed in awe.

“That’s not a mansion.” Logan stated, bringing his arm down. He then pointed to the opposite side of the building. “It’s a hospital.”

Roman squinted to where Logan was gesturing and saw a couple of ambulances parked and ready to go if help was needed.

He deflated just slightly. Slightly. “Let’s go!” Roman grabbed at Logan’s wrist and began speed walking towards the hospital.

“Why are we going to a hospital?” Logan asked, wrinkling his nose. “No one’s hurt. We have no need to visit.”

“It’s not just any hospital, Logan.” Roman exclaimed excitedly. “It’s the hospital. It literally looks like a celebrity would live there.”

Logan just looked even more confused than before. “In a hospital?”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it and snapped his jaw shut. “I just wanna see what it’s like.”

They speed-walked down a couple more streets until they were face to face with the gleaming building with so many windows. Roman craned his neck back so his vision could see the top of the hospital. “This place is so epic.”

“It truly is, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice piped up. Roman jumped at the sudden voice that definitely wasn’t Logan’s.

He glanced over to where a woman was seated on a bench a couple of feet away. How come I didn’t notice her before? Had Logan noticed her as soon as she was in his field of vision? Or was Logan just as surprised as he was?

“Oh. Hello.” Roman said, smiling at the woman before looking back up at the hospital. “Yeah, it is gorgeous.”

The woman looked maybe a couple years older than Roman but not by much. Her hair was dyed an ice blonde and her eyes were a bright green. She was wearing a stylish pair of red cat-eye glasses and dangly earrings.

“I was talking to some of the staff inside and apparently every so often they get an anonymous donation with a very ...significant sum.” Her eyebrows raised as she said this and her eyes widened along with them.

“A mysterious donation?” Logan repeated. He had the same facial expression as the woman—completely in rapture. He then seemed to realize something and straightened his spine, schooling his features and extending his arm. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Logan Holmes.”

The woman shook his hand and nodded. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Josephine Keller. But you can call me Jo.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Like Louisa May Alcott’s Josephine March!”

Jo’s eyes lit up and nodded, a smile playing at her lips. “Exactly.”

Roman decided then to introduce himself as well and did a slight bow. “And I’m Roman Falco.”

Jo nodded in Roman’s direction. “Great to meet you to.”

“Do they have any idea who sends the donations? A company? A single person?” Logan then asked Jo, leaning his body in just slightly.

What does this have to do with finding Raz Keeran? Roman asked himself, scrunching up his nose. They were supposed to be on a mission to find Raz, not some weird hospital donor.

Jo shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “No idea. They say the donation comes in cash in an unmarked envelope.”

“Which means the donation must be brought to the hospital personally, not mailed.” Logan stated, rubbing his chin.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Jo exclaimed. “I asked the security there if they ever managed to see who brought the envelope through their cameras but they said that every time was a different person in dark clothes and a hood or hat.”

“And no doubt all of them are not the actual donor.” Logan concluded almost seamlessly with Jo’s previous words. “Could they describe what the latest donor was wearing?”

Jo shook her head once again. “No. Security said they couldn’t disclose that information.”

“Have they ever tried finding the donor?” Logan asked once again.

Roman was starting to get impatient. What was happening? He could barely follow along with the conversation. The two of them seemed to be bouncing off each other and talking at the speed of light.

“No. But they did do an investigation to make sure the money that was being donated to them was legit and not stolen or something along those lines.

“And? What did they find?”

“All the money is good. Not stolen.” Jo concluded.

Logan hmmmed. “Interesting. And are they’re sure the envelope is unmarked?”

“That’s what they said. They didn’t show me the envelope.” Jo replied. She glanced at her red watch and stood up. “Well, it’s been great talking to you, gentlemen. But I have to go. I’m meeting a friend soon.”

Logan shook Jo’s hand once again and as soon as she was out of view, Roman began talking.

“What was that?” Roman exclaimed. “I thought we were trying to find Raz’s identity! Not take on some side mystery about a mysterious donor.” Then, he added in. “And that woman gives me bad vibes.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Jo seems very nice. You probably don’t like her because she’s not like you. Anyway, that’s not the point. Jo gave us some very valuable information.”

“Valuable information?” Roman sputtered incredulously. “From her?”

“Yes.” Logan nodded. “Just think, Roman. If this donor is getting people to bring the envelope here, that means it’s a very likely chance that this donor lives in this town. Besides, the next closest town is an hour away. And if the donor lives here and is able to give away that much money away, they must be very wealthy indeed. And, wouldn’t you think an incredibly famous author of four books, who’s coming out with a fifth, might earn some good money? Especially if they might have written other works under their own name or even another pseudonym.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped on his own accord. “You think Raz Keeran is the mysterious donor?”

Logan nodded curtly. “Yes. But it’s just a thought. It does make sense, however. But we don’t have enough information to be 100% about it.”

“Oh my gosh. Logan, you are brilliant.” Roman breathed.

The tips of Logan’s mouth quirked up. “Thank you. You are also, intelligent too.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Roman asked excitedly.

Logan slid his hands inside his pockets. “We’re going inside the hospital to see if we can get a glimpse of the envelope or someone who can describe it to us. Or, even better, someone who managed to get a glimpse of a face of someone who brought in the envelope.”

The hospital, as much as it looked like a mansion on the outside, was not a mansion on the inside.

However, it was a hospital and a hospital outfitted like a mansion just wasn’t a good idea in the first place.

The walls and ceilings and floors were blindingly bright and white. It had that hospital smell and all the doctors and nurses seemed to be going somewhere.

There was a man behind the front desk, tapping out something on his computer.

“So….how’re we going to find someone who has seen or taken a picture of the envelope or has actually seen the donor?” Roman asked as he followed Logan through the hallways, a couple floors up.

“I’ll figure it out…” Logan muttered under his breath.

Roman’s head shot up. “Wait. You don’t know how? I thought—“

“Um, are you two lost?” A woman poked her head of a doorway.

“No.” Logan replied curtly.

“Unless you have pictures of the envelope that the mysterious donor’s money comes in or have actually seen one of the people who brought it in.” Roman said bluntly. Asking straight up was the better option for this kind of stuff.

Logan’s head swivelled around and it reminded Roman of an owl that could spin its head all the way around. And, if looks could kill, Roman would be dead right now on the floor.

The woman narrowed her eyes at the two of them and looked between Roman and Logan curiously. “And why would you want to know?”

Logan was the first to speak. He schooled his death glare pointed towards Roman and took a couple steps towards the woman. “The same as you. To solve a mystery.”

If jaw’s could hit the floor, the woman’s jaw would have hit the floor and smashed right through the floor down to the other floors and right to the dirt. “Wha—“ she sputtered. “How?”

“If you didn’t know anything you would have probably said straight up that you had no clue about the mysterious donor.” Logan stated pointedly. “Of course, if you wish for us to leave right now, we will acquest.”

“But we would rather you tell us what you know.” Roman added in then shrunk as Logan glared at him.

The woman turned her head side to side down the halls, as if to make sure the coast was clear before ushering them inside.

Inside the small room was an office like space that was probably meant for four more people.

“I’m an intern here.” The woman said as she noticed Logan and Roman glancing around. “I’m Penny.”

Roman’s back immediately straightened and he could see Logan’s eyes quickly light up with recognition.

Penny. Could it be the Penny? The Penny who Patton had told them about who was always writing in his cafe? The Penny who could possibly be Raz Keeran?

Logan was the first to say something. “I’m Logan Holmes.”

“Roman Falco.” Roman added in.

“So, what do you know about the mysterious donor?” Logan asked curiously, walking around the space which wasn’t small but he could definitely see it as small with five people inside.

Penny made her way to a desk which Roman assumed was hers. She bent down to drag a cardboard box out which could have been mistaken as a banker’s box filled with files. “I don’t have much as I haven’t been interning for all that long. However, I have been here long enough to be here when three donations have been delivered.” Penny explained, putting the box on a table and opening the flaps.

She pulled out a piece of paper first and passed it to Logan. “I marked down what day the donation was brought and exactly how much was donated. All the way back to the first one three years years ago.”

Logan skimmed through the calendar. “The donor looks pretty consistent—about one donation every three or four months.” He paused. “Except for this one: it has five months.”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, last year in May. It was also the largest donation to date.”

Logan passed the paper to Roman. The printing was incredibly small and it was almost impossible to read. And he had 20/20 vision. After glancing at all the numbers that seemed to swim before his vision, he placed it next to the box.

The next thing Penny pulled out were three envelopes. And, while they were blank they had a specific bluish hue to them that weren’t like your average envelope.

“These are the envelopes the past three donations came in. According to some of my friends here who have been at the hospital longer, the donation always comes in these blank envelopes.” Penny explained.

“Do you know where they came from?” Roman asked. He had watched enough mystery movies to know that you should always know where clues came from and then ask the shop owner who had bought such things.

“Yeah. From Patton-ly Perfect.” Penny replied. “The owner there sells these specific envelopes.”

Roman could see Logan’s head snap up in surprise. “Really?” He paused. “You don’t think…?” Logan trailed off.

Penny just shook her head. “No. Patton can’t be the donor. I’ve been going to his cafe regularly for a couple of months and he’s no longer a suspect.”

Roman deflated. So Penny couldn’t be Raz Keeran. She couldn’t be looking for the donor if she was the donor herself. How would that make sense?

Logan seemed to come to the same conclusion and glanced over at Roman before speaking to Penny once again. “Do you have any other suspects?”

“Only one.” Penny replied. “This girl who lives down the block from me. She’s a couple years older than me and inherited this large sum of money from her grandmother. Her name is Cherry and I sometimes see her chatting with Patton and a couple of other people there at the cafe. Other than that, that’s all I got.”

Logan nodded. “Well, thank you for your help and time. We really should get going.”

But Roman piped up before Penny could respond. “What does this Cherry look like?” He wanted to know what the newest suspect looked like. Whereas with Patton, they only got Penny’s name and nothing else, he wanted to know this person’s appearance.

Penny began putting her stuff back in the banker’s box. “Well, she’s tall.” She raised her hand above her own head to demonstrate. “And she’s got a messy bob kind of hairstyle. Brunette. And Harry Potter glasses.”

“Harry Potter!” Roman exclaimed. Finally. He understood something. “You’ve read the books?”

“About a million times.” Penny said, her eyes lighting up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman could see Logan roll his eyes. But he decided to ignore it for the time being. “What house are you in? I’m a Gryffindor.”

[artificialqueens]

Échappé / Chapter 1 (Branjie) - DenDenMonMon

Échappé: Slipping movement in which a dancer starts in a closed position and ends in an opened one.

For: svpermodel

A/N: 

Hi. Hello. Welcome!

So I have never written Branjie before, please, be patient since this is my first attempt. This was a crazy idea that a friend started ranting about on Twitter. I couldn’t help myself and just HAD to bring it to life. Even when I did significant research on them, there’s a huge chance you are about to read a version of Branjie that exists only in my head, tweaked a little by said friend.

Also, I’m Trixya trash, through and through, so expect a lot of that in the background.

Enjoy!

AO3 Link

 Échappé

Chapter one

“You know, you can just admit that we are lost.” Brooke laughed dryly from the backseat. Her big sunglasses slid down the bridge of her nose slightly. She pushed them back into place with a smile pasted on her lips.

Ben looked at her through the rear view mirror, the single curl bouncing on his forehead to the movement. He had his lips twisted to the side in a cheeky grin, gladly welcoming the friendly banter.

“If you must know, I am very sure of where we are. I just need to find a street that actually goes down.”

Brooke didn’t bother in replying. Her eyes rolled on their own, even when they were hidden behind the black shades. She changed her crossed legs, switching to left over right, and looked out the window.

She liked Los Angeles, she liked it a lot. Sure, she used to live in, probably, the biggest metropolis in the country, but this wasn’t her calm and relaxed Canada. Downton LA was ugly, dirty, dangerous, and she loved every bit of it. That was the whole charm about it. She could stare at those old buildings all day. They seemed to belong in so many different eras and times, yet, they coexisted in harmony, creating this mix-match look that somehow fit perfectly together. The sidewalks were always crowded with people from all over the world, in all these different colors and shapes, and speaking so many languages. They were always walking fast and never waiting for the red hand to change to cross the street.

The car finally went left. There were honking sounds following the movement, and Brooke was sure that her driver had taken an unauthorized turn.

She held onto the handle on the door with a smile, amused by the way her body slid on the seat. The smile stayed there. Even when Ben kept mumbling complaints under his breath, Brooke couldn’t help but smile. She was happy. She had traveled the world and eaten the most amazing food; she had lived in exotic places and fallen in love with wildly interesting people, but she had never felt so content in her life. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, at the very happy thought.

Brooke Lynn Hytes had just turned thirty, and her life was right where she wanted it to be. It hadn’t been easy, but she wouldn’t change a single thing about it. In a way, she liked how she had to fight for what she wanted, it gave her a certain perspective on life she could only obtain through struggle. She celebrated every victory and embraced every failure. Learned and grew from every experience, appreciated every achievement, and made sure to keep a quick and smart sense of humor; which her mom had taught her. Mom’s are always right after all.

She didn’t like to consider herself a lucky person. Everything Brooke had, she had worked for it. Nothing had been given to her for free, and opportunities had most definitely never simply fallen into her lap. When it came to her family, though, she knew that God, or the universe, or merely luck, had worked in her favor, landing her in the most amazing environment for any kid to grow up in. She, and all of her siblings, were always given the chance to be free, express themselves, go after their goals and trust their instincts. That’s how she managed to follow her passion and turn the life she dreamed about into a reality.

Being a ballerina had always been her aspiration. There was a world of a difference between her current self and that dreamy girl - the girl who would take advantage of any flat surface to try and pull dance moves she had just seen on TV. Brooke remembered being in her shared bedroom, pushing her sister’s stuff to the side so she could have more space to practice. Her legs were weak and untrained.

She couldn’t help but touch her toned thigh through the fabric of her skirt. Her body had truly come a long way.

As much as her parents wanted to help her to pursue that dream, money had been tight, and dance academies have never been cheap.

Brooke had fond memories of small dance groups she went to after class, at a tiny community center across from the school. For only a few bucks a week, she could dance with her friends for an hour per day, guided by an overly-enthusiastic Zumba instructor who really liked children. Those were enough credentials for the director of the place, who allowed her to teach. Brooke had no complaints, though. Those were her favorite dance years, before she was ‘discovered’ - when dancing was all about having fun, when dancing wasn’t a career. She had to admit, it was a job she loved, but a job nonetheless.

On the street, a mother angrily pulled her child by the arm. The girl seemed to walk a little too slow for the mom’s taste. Blonde curls created a jumping curtain around the girl’s face, who deliberately refused to move faster. Brooke saw so much of herself in the small child, the stubborn resemblance making her chuckle in her seat.

“See? Told you I knew where we were,” Ben said triumphantly. His words only meant he had finally found the right route again. He was a very talkative man, and just then did Brooke realize he had been quiet for a long time, probably trying to figure out his away around that part of the city.

The thought brought a new question to her mind. “DeLa, where are we? Is this still downtown?”

Her eyes once again met Ben’s through the mirror, what looked almost like an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, but according to this thing…” His fingers tapped on the GPS integrated in the dashboard. “We only need to go a few blocks down, enter the ten, and we’ll be on our merry way.” The silly smile was obnoxious, mainly because it was genuine. Brooke couldn’t stand the idea of someone being so happy all the time, but leave it to BenDeLaCreme to be able to pull it off.

Once he’d gotten some sense of direction, Ben went back to his usual self, giving random information he knew about the buildings around them, and how the government’s money only went to certain parts of the city, leaving this side completely forgotten.

After taking a right turn, the street grew smaller, the four lines merging into one and slowing them down.

Brooke didn’t welcome the traffic very well. The day was hot and she could feel her shirt sticking to her back. She ran a hand around her ear, pushing nonexistent loose strands back into place. Her blonde hair was perfectly tied in a bun at the back of her head, just like a prima ballerina should always wear it. Not a strand fell out of place, ever, she was always careful about that. Sitting in a car for so long, with nothing to do but entertain Ben’s pointless conversation, forced her hands to play with imaginary hair.

Suddenly, her eyes were pulled to the scene taking place across the street, her back straightened and her jaw dropped dramatically. She took the round sunglasses away from her face, just to have a clear view of what was happening in the corner of the park.

Her flat hand hit the front seat a few times with more force than she intended. “Ben, pull over.”

“What, now? Where? Why?”

“Oh, God, just do it!”

The cars around them were not moving much, traffic finally doing some good for them. Ben easily moved out of the way and found a spot to parallel park. The tires of the SUV hadn’t fully stopped when Brooke was opening her door and stepping down.

Her high heels hitting the pavement were barely audible above the loud music and inevitable sounds of children playing around her. She had to step on grass but she didn’t even care, she kept going and going, trying to balance the best she could in those shoes, until she reached her destination.

A group of young girls had a speaker perched on a bench. The round tube shined bright colors that immediately got drowned by the sunrays. Brooke didn’t recognize the music, but she liked the Latin flavor it had. Her mind was instantly thinking of intricate ballroom dances that could be performed to that song. Nonetheless, the girls dancing to it had a very different idea. Their hips moved to a synchronized rhythm, even when they were clearly freestyling. Each had their own take on the song, the beats awakening unique moves for each of their limbs but, at the same time, they clearly worked together. They looked like a perfectly structured dance team.

The song ended and the five girls giggled happily. They hugged and shared high-fives, proud of the creation they had just given life to.

She didn’t even think about it, Brooke clapped her hands slowly but loudly. She knew the smile on her face, open-mouthed and all teeth, probably looked stupid, but she wouldn’t do anything to hide it. What she had just witnessed wasn’t like anything she had ever seen in her life before. The way those girls had danced, so effortlessly, yet so accurate in technique, made her feel a certain warmth in her stomach she couldn’t really identify. She had come alive by their little performance, her heart was still beating to the rhythm of the song she didn’t even know.

All eyes went to her. The girls stopped their celebration and looked up at her. Brooke didn’t know, but they were not particularly used to see tall ladies in black pencil skirts, fancy white shirts, and sky-high stilettos. They stared at her with big questioning eyes as they lined up a few steps away from her.

“Hi!” She finally let out. It was supposed to be kind and welcoming, trying to ease the tension, but excitement made her almost yell the word at them. “You guys are so good! Are you part of a dance group?”

They looked among each other, until one of them nodded her head. If someone had instructed these girls not to talk to strangers, they should be really proud right now.

In yet another attempt to try and be friendly, Brooke bent her knees and placed her hands on her thighs, trying, unsuccessfully, to be at their eye level. She ended up sitting on her heels instead.

“You really are amazing! I wish I could dance like you, would you teach me?” Her ears filled with the innocent sound of girly giggles. Her smile only grew wider.

One of the girls, who Brooke had right away recognized as the leader, eyed her from the side. Her stare was analytical, scanning her up and down, and actually pondering if she could be taught. “I don’t think you could do it,” was her professional opinion.

Brooke’s jaw was somewhere near the floor, partly in exaggeration to entertain the children, but mostly shocked at the unfiltered comment of the girl. She couldn’t be more than ten years old and yet she carried herself like a fully grown adult. Her clothes were colorful and her frizzy hair threatened to break out of the braid adorning the side of her head. Her skin was dark and, mixed with the slightly detectable accent, Brooke deduced she at least had some Latin descendance. No wonder she had no issue speaking her mind.

Just when she was about to ask them who was their teacher, the question answered itself. They all heard a voice yelling from behind them. The girls froze for a moment, understanding the admonishing words barked at them in Spanish.

Then came a vision in red, black and denim shorts.

“Who is you and what the fuck you doing talking to my babies?”

Brooke’s eyes widened. She crossed her arms on top of her chest with a stern look on her face. “Excuse me, maybe you shouldn’t curse in front of the children.” Her statement came out more like a question, almost asking if the girl standing in front of her understood the damage.

There was a thin braid at the top of the girl’s head, adorned with rhinestones along the way; the rest of her hair went all the way down to her waist in natural waves. The long red curls bounced as she shook her head. “Huh? You serious, girl? How I talk is none of your business. Thank you very much. Plus, they know better than to repeat those words, right, girls? Or you wanna get’cha little asses whooped?”

They all shook their heads, amused smiles spread across their faces, indicating that the words directed to them meant no harm.

Honestly, there was something intimidating about the young woman standing in front of her. Brooke had to admit as much. It wasn’t her size, she was tiny, but her presence was grand. She wore high heel boots that went all the way up to her thighs, still a long distance from where her tiny shorts ended; and that black crop top hid barely enough of her chest. Her silver hoop earrings, that pretty much rested on her shoulders, caught the sun, blinding Brooke for a moment, and making her realize she had done nothing but stare at her for too long.

“Ya done?” The girl asked, her long lashes blinking rapidly. “You need me to turn around or somethin’?”

That was enough to fully snap Brooke out of her observations. She shook her head to physically exist that weird daze. “I apologize. Hello, I’m Brooke, Brooke Lynn Hytes.” She smiled and extended her hand, trying to be as cordial as possible.

The laugh that followed her words, she hadn’t expected. “What kind of name is that? You from New York?”

“I’m from Toronto,” Brooke offered, completely aware of the other girl’s chain of thoughts, and not falling for it. She was too used to be bullied by the unintended pun placed on her name, she had learned a rather delicate way to deal with it.

“Your parents wanted to live there or some shit? What’s the deal with that, bitch?”

That last word had thrown her off guard. Brooke was used to hearing it among her teammates, it was a term of endearment, usually the start of fun banter. Having it fall from the lips of a stranger made her feel uneasy, even when the few letters carried no harm in her direction. She retracted her hand, letting it land awkwardly on her hip.

“Yeah, okay, listen, child, don’t go all serious on me, okay? It was a stupid joke, alright? No offense to mommy and daddy and their dream vacation spot. I’m Vanessa,” she said as she closed the gap between them, grabbing Brooke’s hand without permission and shaking it at an unusual speed. “Nice to meet you, Brooke.”

Her shoulders squared up. Brooke was a strong, independent, successful woman, she was always cool and collected. There was no plausible explanation as to why this young woman, with caramel skin glistening in the harsh sun, was making her feel so… insecure?

Vanessa let go of Brooke’s hand, theatrically placing it back against her hip. “Alright, Imma ask you one more time. Are you, like, some kind of fancy-ass predator here to steal my girls and sell them to slavery, or…?”

“What?! No!” Brooke replied shocked, her voice tinted with indignation. She brought both her hands up to her hips, stretching her back and neck to at least feel some leverage, even if it was just her height. “Just, I saw the kids dancing and was taken away by their talent.” She craned her neck to look behind Vanessa, where the girls were patiently waiting for the grown-ups to be done speaking. “Are they your students?”

“Yeah.” Vanessa smiled proudly, directing her attention to them for a moment. “And they’re late for their stretching class!” Her high heeled boot was raised, pretending to send a kick their way, even though they were too far behind. “You better drag ya little asses inside before Miss Yvie comes and fucking skin you alive or some weird shit like that. You know she’s into all that freaky stuff.”

The girls ran in playful delight. Brooke followed them with her eyes until they reached a small building in the middle of the park. It looked familiar, she had never been on that part of the city, yet she felt like the construction was something she had visited before.

“Is that… your community center?”

Suddenly, Vanessa’s eyes seemed to light up. “Oh, shit! You are that-that–” her hand flailed in front of her as her brain tried to find the right noun, coming out empty. “The lady that’s supposed to give us the money, right?! The government help we applied for!”

Before Brooke could reply, before she could deny the title just given to her, Vanessa was stomping her way back into the building, throwing words into the air that Brooke didn’t catch. Her strides were short but powerful. The red and black plaid shirt that covered her bottom bounced to the rhythm of her hips in a hypnotizing way.

“Well, c’mon!”

It took Vanessa to yell over her shoulder to take Brooke out of her trance. She walked with fast steps behind her, unsuccessfully trying to catch up. She looked down, unable to stop herself from comparing her light steps against the forceful ones of the powerhouse in front of her. Of course, Brooke had to remind herself that she was a ballerina. She had been taught her entire life to be graceful. Feet should not make a sound when hitting the ground, that was one of the primary rules. So, she decided to stay true to her learnings and slowed down the pace, leaving Vanessa to stand by the front door for a few more seconds, waiting for her to reach it.

The first thing Brooke spotted when she walked in was a big sign next to the front desk. It read ‘We can save the center!’ in big blue letters against white background. It had a thermometer drawn on one side. The marks on it were set in intervals of five thousand, going from zero to fifty, and it had a big dollar sign at the top. Red marker covered the bottom, barely reaching the number ten.

Behind the desk was a blonde girl with big hair, overdrawn lips, extremely pink cheeks, and way too much mascara on her heavy lashes. Her complete attention was set on the phone in her hand as she popped pink bubbles of gum.

“This is Trixie,” Vanessa informed Brooke as they walked by her. “She helps with the makeup. I have no idea what she’s doing here right now. Don’t pay attention to her, she won’t pay attention to you, anyways.”

In response, the girl lifted her middle finger, but didn’t look up from her phone.

Vanessa took her around the place, showing Brooke the small indoor basketball court, and the few craft rooms. She mentioned a pool at the back but that was being cleaned, so it was better not to see it now. They walked through a small gym, where generic work out equipment had been placed. Vanessa explained someone had built them from scratch using metallic waste from the construction site where he used to work.

Music could be heard when they reached the back of the place. Those were the multipurpose rooms. They used them to teach yoga, zumba, karate, and modern dance; which was Vanessa’s class. They stopped by the room with the loud music flowing. There were around twenty girls in there –including the ones she had seen at the park– each supporting themselves on their hands and bare feet, forming an arch with their backs. A thin young woman, with limbs that seemed to go on forever, and skin as smooth and rich as milk chocolate, corrected the girls and helped them place their backs in the right position.

The tour ended back at the front desk. “See? Don’t tell me it ain’t cute. This is such an important place for the community,” Vanessa spoke with such enthusiasm it was contagious. “Grandmas come knit while the kids play basketball or dance their booties off. This is not a nice neighborhood, you see? So we need good things. This is a really good thing and we would like to keep it. If you could, please, not sell it to those big companies that only care about shit like parking space, that would, you know, really help us a lot.”

Brooke blinked a couple of times, she had completely forgotten about the misunderstanding. She had been so wrapped up in the way Vanessa talked about the place, making her fall in love with it right from the start, that she never found a moment to clarify who she was. Learning that they could lose it broke her heart. And then she had to think of an easy way to let them know she was not the salvation they had been expecting… or maybe she was?

Her hand landed on the desk, the other one found its rightful place on her hip. “Umm, I don’t know how to say this, but… I can’t make the government help you.”

Vanessa looked around, her weight shifting from one foot to the other in clear annoyance. “I knew it! This fucking administration doesn’t give a shit about–”

Brooke lifted her hand, making Vanessa’s rant die on her lips. “But only because I don’t work for the government like you thought.”

“Ha!” A scream-like laugh came from behind them. “She’s got you, V!” Trixie said before getting up and walking away, not willing to waste her time on them anymore.

Vanessa’s jaw hung low in surprise. “Then why the fuck you made me give you a goddamn tour of the place?”

“I didn’t–” Brooke was unable to answer, Vanessa’s anger filling up the space around them.

“You showed here with all you-your big money shoes and executive clothes, looking all cah-ching, cah-ching, and you can’t even help us!”

Brooke was reaching the end of her patience. The palm of her hand landed loudly against the desk, regaining Vanessa’s attention. “Listen here. I never said I couldn’t help you, okay? If you could stop for one minute and pay attention. I direct a dance company–”

“Oh, Mary! You are fuckin’ competition, aren’t you? You are here to steal our moves! Nah ah. No, ma’am. Not on my watch, Momma. You better get going.” Vanessa’s index finger pointed towards the door, her arm fully extended, and her face showing nothing but fury.

Instead of exiting, Brooke took a few steps closer, towering her. The heat radiating from Vanessa’s body was tickling her skin. “I could help you,” she said slowly and carefully. “My company can make a generous donation so you can save this place.”

Vanessa didn’t even flinch, her feet hit the ground one at the time, her jaw was clenched, and her stare pierced right into Brooke’s soul. “We are not a charity. We don’t need no free money. Go, now.” The words came out low but full of force.

Brooke was not going to accept being treated like that. She looked up at the thermometer sign, spotting a date for the first time in the top left corner.

“See you in two months. I’ll love to see the demolition of this place.”

And, with that, she walked out the door, not even bothering to look back to see Vanessa’s reaction. The girl had just gotten on her bad side, and there was no turning back.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading and giving this story a chance, please don’t forget to let me know what you think.

[heymondoitaliano]

Et mortuus est rex

Pip and I, having re-visited many places that we had already been, largely to show someone else what we mean when we bang on about Puglia, decided to strike out to some places not part of our recent itineraries. A kind of dart-at-the-map adventure. We started by charting a course out of Lecce that would take us on roads we haven’t driven and that was an immediate success. We soon found ourselves traversing rich, olive-full landscapes, which changed into rich grape-full landscapes as we motored northwest. I don’t exaggerate when I say that either side of the road, as far as could be seen, were olive groves and grapevines. Really pleasant driving along country lanes - far different to the breakneck pace of driving in any town, city or village in this place.

In all honesty, our day started with a mishap. I tried our usual trick of selecting a town that the GPS could not navigate to via a main road, San Donaci, however I typed in San Donato, which is in entirely the opposite direction. I had wondered why the sun was on the wrong side of the car - oh well. Half an hour out - half an hour back and finally the sun was on the correct side of the car and we were bound for San Donaci, which was an unremarkable village with multiple roadside clementine and fennel stands. We aimed our beast for Oria, a place that read nicely, having been the death place of some King of Sparta or other and had Greek origins and strong Jewish links. This whole area is part of what’s called Magna Grecia and was settled by Greeks around the time of the Trojan war. Oria was reached through kilometers of rich countryside and wall-to-wall vines - it’s the heart of the region that produces my new favourite wine, Negroamaro.

Oria occupies the only only hill for miles around. We drove up the main street to arrive at an ornate gate into the old city. For once, parking was easy, though probably illegal. What a gorgeous little town. A lovely square leading up the hill through narrow streets to a large piazza at the top, o’erlooking (that’s as close to poetry as you’ll hear from me!) the fields below. There was a photogenic horse and donkey butcher; a Fiat Cinquecento parked picturesquely and a cranky old bastard in tracky daks and sandals and socks yelling at people. All that Instaworthiness made us hungry and we wheeled into an alley that promised a trattoria at the end. It was Quinto Quarto and we were the only ones there at the beginning of the meal.

We decided to eat a proper lunch (the drive from Lecce having been undertaken without a pit stop!) and here seemed fine. We shared some mixed polpette (fried balls of stuff) - potato, melanzane and some kind of minced equine. I had cavatelli with mushrooms and fennel sausages, while Pip had orichiette with cimi di rape and anchovies, topped with pangratato (made from crumbled taralle). This always comes with delicious bread and water and there may have been some wine. The chill of the weather did not bother us too much on the way back to the car.

Oria has now been added to the list of favorite places and those to recommend to those traveling to Puglia. We drove on to Cisternino, up into the Valle D’Itria, largely so Pip could clock an apartment she had once wanted to buy and which was still for sale. Cisternino’s old town is very walkable and very white. We soon found the apartment and Pip has decided we were right not to have bought it - too many 35cm high steps to reach the front door, and then, too small. So, further apartments will need to be inspected.

Home time after a quick coffee at the BarFOD in the square and after an hour and forty minutes we were wheeling into our car park. Across the road from our car park, apart from the Rocky Bar 1963, and Casa Antonio, an amazing wine shop that also sells, amongst other things, Iranian blue salt for €1.27 per gram, there is also a halal butchery. Pip had a hankering for a roast chicken and we had seen chickens in the display earlier in the day. While I parked the car, Pip ventured forth. She described the long wait while the African butcher, whom we will refer to ‘the knife ninja’ going forward, prepared a range of meats for the lady ahead in the queue. Apparently, by holding a chicken up in one hand and waving the knife around, the skin came right off in one go. He then cleavered the birds into portions on his bloody wooden block. Same proportions for the beef that met his blade. Pip had to resist his efforts to skin and portionise our bird and we managed to bring it home and roast it to great effect.

[dehvastation]

The Escape Room Part 1 (With @V_Bloodletter)

V: I was off patrol tonight and doing my diligence behind the wall of monitors. It seemed relatively quiet out. At the moment I hadn’t seen any things that go bump in the night. I was itching to get into something tonight, fuck anything. My boredom was at an all time high and nothing good came from me being inactive. I was randomly searching out areas through the helpful eye of Caldwell electronic eyes. Tapping into the city’s system had been too easy, especially in this day and time. Either way, I had access to everything Caldwell did. My fingers slid over the pad, scrolling through various alley ways. Nothing was out of order, the streets as per usual had your pedestrians that preferred the dark and your drunks stumbling down the sidewalks and of course there was your common back alley fucks going on. Absently I realized I was humming a beat and just when I was trying to figure out exactly what song it was, the phone line to the Brotherhood broke my concentration. Usually I let the Doggen at the Manse filter through the calls but yeah, I needed a distraction so here I was listening to the voice mails. ‘IT WONT STOP...THE FLOOR…….EVERYWHEREEE… PLEASEE HELP US!’ And that was what greeted my extremely fucking sensitive eardrums as soon as the recordings started. I sit up, grabbed the only info that was left behind which was the number, the call was too short for the trace to pick up. But that was cool because in under sixty I had the address where the phone was presently at, pulled up. I might have gotten a little excited when I quickly realized that for some odd as fuck reason I couldn’t bring the location up on my monitors. Now now now, I was just going on about how I had full access into the city street cameras and here I am now, unable to see anything surrounding the address where the phone is. I was on my feet and checking to see who was inhouse and not on patrol and lucky Dehv got the drawl. I shot a text to Mr. Suave “Yo, meet me at the location I’m pinging to your GPS now. V.” I wasted no time and gearing up and dematting.

Dehv: ~ I’d just settled in for the day when the door sounded like it was about to be broken down. The knocking was so loud that the fists would happily come through the wood without much persuasion. Qhuinn and I had frozen in the bed, hardly daring to breath in case they heard us. Not that it changed anything. Qhuinn had been marched off to the Mansion with barely a couple of hours until sunrise and that had left me at a loose end. I demated home and crashed around the place before my phone peeped. I felt my heart jump as I rushed to dig it out of my pocket on the hopes that it was Qhuinn. I felt disappointment flash through me when I saw it wasn’t Qhuinn, but my smile was still huge when I saw that it was Vishous. Though it quickly turned to a frown when I realised that he wanted me to meet him somewhere asap. Was he insane? It was almost daylight outside. We’d barely make it there and back before we were scrabbling to try and find shelter away from the death rays. I arched a brow and contemplated for about half a minute before shooting back a thumbs up. I quickly changed into a pair of jeans, proper boots and a heavy jumper over a lighter long sleeved tee. I shoved phone and keys into my pocket and then checked my phone, frowning even harder when I saw that it appeared to be in the middle of an industrial estate of some kind. What the actual hell was V thinking wanting me to meet him out there. I had to hope that he was just picking something up and needed an extra pair of hands. I didn’t mind if he wanted to take me back to the mansion afterwards to wait out the daylight. It meant that I could be there when Qhuinn finally got done with whatever he was needed for, and it meant that I could ensure Vishous was home in one piece while also catching up with the guy. I tried not to go overboard to talk to the Brothers when they were training us. Not that Vishous did, he just lurked now and again. I didn’t want to be different to the other trainees, and being wtih Qhuinn already meant I stood out. But with the amount of time it took to train and learn in the field and sleep around that I barely saw any of them. It would be good to see the male and possibly we could crash with his favourite poison and a good film while the sun did its thing.

Once I was sure that my place was locked up tight, I took a slow breath and dematted to the coordinates that Vishous had given me. I landed in a small enclosed area that was probably once a bus stop across from a run down looking building. I instantly settled my hand against the knife I’d had the foresight to hide under my arm before stepping into the flickering streetlight. “Vishous, you get here yet?” ~

V: While I was waiting for Dehv, I patrolled the area, checking out for any obvious signs of issues. At the present time there wasn’t anything that stood out. Not sure what I expected to find but absolutely nothing at all, was not it. Okay yes I didn’t think whoever was causing the disturbance was going to leave me a bloody trail to the crime scene. Although it would have been mighty helpful if they did, ya know, considering how damn close the rays of sun busting out were. But no such luck was laid at my feet this time. The location had been closed down twelve years ago, since then it had been bought and sold a few times and the newest owners had procured it about five years before. Public records fed me that info but as to the company that was holding the lease on the land now, I came up against walls. I would have delve more in depth but Dehv’s voice cut into my scrolling for info. I stepped out of the shadows, entering the barely illuminated area he was now occupying. “Evening, Dehv. Long story short, a 911 call came into the Brotherhood and I was able to trace the phones location to here.” I blew out a breath and glanced at the concrete structure that definitely had seen its better days before and my shoulders came up in a shrug as I turned my attention back to the male. “Let’s do a clean sweep, retrieve any bodies, alive or dead or remove any threats, whichever the case may be and then get the fuck out of dodge. True?” It my head it sounded like a simple enough job but my gut reaction to the place was not completely on board with that assessment. “Usually with the size of this place, I would say let’s split up and cut the time in half, but yeah this time around let’s stick together and see if anything goes bump in the night.” I moved out of the dim lighting and headed towards the entrance. “It use to be an auto parts factory and then after that it was transformed into a tire treading company and they leased out the upper floors. But that all seized years ago and it’s been abandoned since. Once one business started to close down around here, others followed soon and it seemed it has been deemed the ghost yard of factories.” I stopped at the double door entrance and cast Dehv a rakish smile. “If we find a ghost, I am for fucking real going to figure out how to keep it.” Chuckling low key, I turned back to the task at hand and what do you know, the doors were not even locked. Big surprise, not. “No wondering off, I haven’t had time to go over the blueprints and there is no fucking telling how many reconstructions have been done under each new owner.”

Dehv: ~ I turned at the sound of the voice behind me, my entire body telling me that I should just tell V where to stick it rather than go anywhere close to checking out the place. “That sounds like a solid lead. But I guess if they called and had to hang up fast, that would make sense. Though you’d think we’d see something.” I swept my arms in a circle, gesturing at the area that was quieter than I’d ever heard. I’d been to a lot of places growing up in the human world, and rarely to never was it basically silent. Normally there was birds, wind in trees, the hum of electricity as it moved through the wires. It was basically like a dead spot here. It was not normal and it was giving me the creeps. “You get signal here?” I tapped at my phone and tried to send a message, though nothing happened. I was glad I’d managed to let Qhuinn know that I was with V, and the coordinates he’d given me. Though he’d been stuck with Wrath all day, at least we’d have something to talk about when he got back. We’d started checking in on each other when the shit had hit the fan and we’d been pulled away every night to patrol or train or any other number of things. I liked it, and it made me feel a little safer for when the sun went down. Right now though I knew we only had a matter of time before the sun came up and trapped us inside one of these places.

I followed on after V as he made his way towards what was obviously the main entrance to the huge building that seemed to be shrouded in darkness. Even more so than the rest of the place. I snorted at his instructions and jokes, my lips twitching in amusement. “We see a ghost, you’re welcome to it. I’ll try not to scream like a pansy.” I grinned and pulled a gun out of its little holder at my back, keeping it trained on the floor while I stood behind Vishous, knowing that I wasn’t any good if I was nervous or uncertain. The plan to get in and get out was a good one, and it was something that we needed to do fast, without distractions. I nodded along and then chuckled. “You mean you weren’t 100% prepared when you came here. You’re slacking. If I walk into a room with no exit, I’m going to blame you.” I winked and then nodded towards the doors that separated us from whatever horrors were inside. I swallowed hard and rolled my shoulders. I’d been with the Brotherhood long enough to see my fair share of weird and horrible. I’d fought a few of my own horrors. But this was unknown, something neither one of us were prepared for, and I just had to hope I didn’t embarrass myself and throw up all over another Brothers boots. “Ready when you are. I’ve got your back, and I can follow instructions. Check it out, pull out bodies whether they are dead or alive and then get back to the Mansion before the sun comes up.” I nodded again and stepped in closer, thankful that my eyes weren’t bothered by the dark as the doors opened. It was pitch black inside, no light at all, had I been human I’d have been walking in blind. As it was I could see a wall ahead of me, and a corridor to the right. “Looks like we’ve only got one way in, one way out. Lead the way.” ~

V: I didn’t say anything back to Dehv after we walked inside and saw at first the simple layout. My brows drew down and I scanned the vacant lobby for anything. Not exactly the setup that I expected but that thought lasted about as long as it took to blink. Because with the next breath all hell broke loose and I had no fucking time to react. Doors slammed lock, walls that weren’t there before, were suddenly dropped in place and the corridor vanished with one of those spontaneous walls. My head was spinning in every direction as I heard all the strategic mechanisms clicking into place and then it was total quiet except for the sound of our own breathing. “What the actual fuck.” I had a blade in hand and cautiously approached one of the new walls that was decorated as if we had been yanked right back to the fifties. “We are gonna go with staying extremely in close proximity, Dehv.” I ran my leather covered hand across the hideous mustard yellow wallpaper, seaking out any kind of hidden lever, button or what the fuck ever might send this shit back to where it came from. But nothing, I fingered and rubbed all over that damn wall as if I was going to bend it over and fuck it next. I looked over my shoulder at Dehv. “We might have a small issue here.” That was putting it fucking mildly. It was as if we were in lockdown in one of those cheesy as fuck escape rooms. This shit was done with some severe elaborateness and more importantly, made to lock us in with no obvious way out. “I hope you like figuring puzzles out at a breakneck speed while killing what the fuck ever set this shit up because it looks like we might be a tad fucked.” And then those words were followed up but a stream of curses when I tried to demat and not a fucking thing happened.

Dehv: ~ I followed V as he moved slowly into the space. It wasn’t big, and I instinctively moved towards the one way deeper into the huge building. I’d barely taken more than a couple of steps when the noise rose in the building until even if V had spoken I was unsure I’d even hear it. I stepped backwards to put my back to the wall as I watched and waited for whatever was making the noise to appear. The wall disappearing from behind me made me stagger, and with effort I kept myself on my feet and the gun in my hand. “Fuck it. What is happening?” I spun on the spot and watched as walls appeared that hadn’t been there before, and others disappeared. No longer was there a space with an obvious corridor into the building. We now had a box of a room with apparently no exits. I felt my chest tighten at the thought of being trapped. This really was not the time for a panic attack. I heard V comment about sticking in close proximity, and my body complied with the request before my brain caught up. I moved in to cover as much of the room as I could while Vishous checked out the walls. I blinked slowly, eyes scanning the space, though it was just four walls and not much else. I focused on keeping my breathing even and my thoughts away from the fact we were about to be stuck in a tiny space for all eternity. “Small? Yeah, I would say that was the understatement of the century.” I turned in a small circle, eyes darting up and down as well as along the walls. I watched Vishous work his fingers across the wall in an attempt to find something that might help us. Then I blinked a few times and moved further into the middle of the room, there was something faint on the floor. It was glowing just enough that I could see it, and I was glad that I wasn’t a human in this place, no way would it be visible to them. “I have no experience with puzzles, but I do design for a living, so hopefully I can pick things apart and put them back together. Tad fucked is yet another understatement, Vishous. We have less than an hour until the sun comes up. So we either work to get out in an hour, or we’re going to have to fight to stay IN here for the rest of the day. I’m not sure which is worse.” I tipped my head and walked in a circle around the weird glowing markings on the floor. No matter which way I went, I couldn’t figure out what it was trying to tell me. “Found anything on the wall? This floor things isn’t really telling me much……oh no, wait, it’s maybe an arrow, but some of the paint has worn away completely.” I crouched and ran my fingers along the faint line. “You think that phone call was some poor humans who are stuck in this place, or a way to lure us here?” I followed the weird point of the arrow with my eyes to the wall, then up to the ceiling. Squinting once again at what looked like cut outs in the ceiling. Though it was higher than either one of us could reach or jump to. I couldn’t quite figure out why the lines seemed to line up with the glowing mark on the floor. “We’re completely fucked!” ~

V: “This was definitely a set up. By who is the question, because this is way fucking more elaborate than those pale fuckers get credit for.” My eyes narrowed and I drew in a series of breaths because this lock down thing was a head fuck. I wasn’t going to voice that out loud. The facts of the matter, was any kind of confinement was not going to go easy on me. If it was just me here, I’d burn this fucker down around me and take my chances on if I made it out or not. But it wasn’t just me, I had actually for once followed Wrath’s laws about doubly up on patrols or any Brotherhood business. I’ll blame the King for this shit. I blew out a breath and went about searching for any damn thing. I was coming up empty handed. No matter where I looked, felt or checked out, not a fucking thing. And then luck shined down on us, or as the case was, it shined up from a place in the false floor that Dehv found. I followed his line of site up the wall and onto the ceiling where markings are etched in place. “Alright, Dehv…” My face already had a smirk on it even before I spoke. “I’ll hoist you up and you see what those marks do or don’t do.” I closed the distance between us, which in this enclosed space it didn’t take long before I was right in front of the male and directly under the markings. My diamond eyes bore into Dehv’s and my tone was dry as fuck. “After this night, no talks of me giving you a piggyback ride. True.” I ended that with a teasing smirk before I turned around and crouched down.

Dehv: ~ I nodded at Vishous’ assessment. It would appear that the phone call was a way to lure us here, but was the person in charge of this weird ass game human or vampire? If they were vampire, why were they targeting the brotherhood, without picking a specific target. If it was human, was it by chance they got us, or was it someone who knew our secret and was deliberately playing with us? I checked my watch and saw that we’d been wandering around and looking for clues for nearly 45 minutes. We were not getting out of here before the sun came up. I opened my mouth to tell Vishous that when he came up beside me. Those intelligent eyes of his looking over the weird shape on the ceiling, and I hoped like hell he’d see something I couldn’t. The smirk didn’t bode well, and I felt my jaw fall open when he suggested that I get up on his back. Two 6 and a half foot plus males doing piggy back rides was not exactly how I’d seen my day going. But I’d learned a lot when I was training, and the first thing was that usually you had to think outside of the box if you wanted to get anywhere. I turned to look at the Brother beside me and met his gaze, nodding grimly as I tried not to laugh at the entire prospect. “No talks at all, unless of course it’s to tease you where you can’t kill me.” I winked, trying to lighten the mood before I moved around behind Vishous. “I am not sure I’ve ever done this before, so apologies if there’s a bit of a false start.” I cleared my throat and then placed both hands on Vishous’ shoulders, using them as a spring board to try and jump high enough to get my legs wrapped around his waist. At least then he could hold my feet and help me get higher if I needed to. The additional height gave me enough leverage to feel across the ceiling and poke gingerly at the little shapes in the blacked out surface. I pressed at one, and felt it give under the pressure, “They seem to open, though I’ve no idea why. Hold on.” I took a slow breath, willing my heart rate to go down as I talked myself into poking my fingers into the space without knowing what was beyond the little flap of metal. “If they take my fingers, I’m blaming you.” I snorted and looked down briefly to the male who was taking all my weight and holding me steady before shoving my fingers past the barrier and into the ceiling. I felt around for a minute, hitting what felt like a little box with a hole in the top. I gently poked until I felt the box tip. I indistinctly tried to stop it, jerking Vishous below me as I did. “Shit, sorry. Hang on.” I felt something under the bottom of the box and I pressed my finger to it, pain instantly shooting through the nerves with enough force to make me pull my hand back. My body jerked and I stuck my finger in my mouth to stem the flow, numbing around the digit “Feels like boxes with gems under them. The gems fit in the holes and then the boxes go upside down to connect the whole thing. All without being able to see a fucking thing. The little stone thingies are sharp and I am not entirely sure I won’t lose a finger doing this. If you want a break, warn me before you drop me so I don’t leave a finger behind.” I snorted and shook out my hand before sticking it back through the ceiling to try and work the little, stupid fucking puzzle out. ~

V: All I could say is I was glad as fuck that noone was around to see this display. I mean here we were, warriors giving piggyback rides. After this night I will just black this shit out of my mind and pretend it never happened. The problem with that was, I needed to make sure there was an ‘After tonight’. It was clear as fuck that whoever arranged this elaborate setup, had at least some brain cells. So far, I was slightly impressed. I mean yes, Dehv and I were the rats inside of this maze but still, it was hard not to give props where props were due. Even if the detailed trap was mostly devised to end our lives. I was a sick bastard like. I huffed out a breath and snorted when Dehv situated himself on my back and I locked my arms around his legs and glanced up periodically to see how things were progressing. Every minute felt like an hour. I was keeping the rage locked down. The one thing that would always fuck me up is having my freedom taking away, in any form, bondage or that of a prison. I blew out another breath, focused my diamond eyes on the wall before me, using it as a focal point. I was already devising ways to tear our captors apart in my mind. Taking my time seemed like a good a place to start as any. As a matter a fact, I think I will draw it out for however long it takes Dehv and I to get our asses out of this fucked up place. I just about missed what all he was saying as I was too caught up within my own head devising death techniques. “I’m used to taking the blame. Just get that fucker to open because it is not that noticeable yet but…” The ground shifted only slightly when Dehv yanked his hand free and I inhaled the slight scent of his punctured finger. I was pretty fucking positive that if he didn’t get that fucking puzzel figured out within minutes if not seconds, that the floor would do a lot more than barely shift. “I don’t want any kind of break. I’m pretty sure if you don’t get that unlatched up there, this ground is going to open up and swallow us whole...Literally. No pressure though man.” I looked up at the large as fuck male attached to my back and gave a smirk.

Dehv: ~ I could feel the blood slowly dripping from my fingers as I fiddled around with the tiny boxes. I had to feel for the little gem they hid, then try and figure out which box that went with before slotting into the right groove. Each time I touched the smooth gem thing, it’s sharp edges cut into the pads of my fingertips. I was going as fast as I could. Though Vishous was pretty stoic as males went, when he sounded like he did, I hurried. That smirk was there to reassure, or that is how I was going to take it, and I really didn’t want to go through the damn floor. Each time I tried to lock them in place I’d slip off the wood because of the blood. They never got a chance to heal before another was opened up. They weren’t even big slices, but they strung and hindered how hard I was able to push at each of the little locking mechanisms. I was not at all sure Vishous was going to toss me on my ass at any moment, with each shift causing me to grip a little tighter to the opening in the ceiling, which only meant more of my hands were cut open. I was glad that I was wearing a long sleeved shirt, it meant the blood trickled down to my wrists and then soaked into the material. Saving me from messing up the floor. After what seemed like an age I clicked in the last piece. I signed heavily and then jerked backwards so quickly that I managed to dislodge myself from Vishous and land with a loud thud on the floor. It took me a minute of gasping like a fish out of water to convince my lungs to inflate again, when they did I was up and on my feet. Eyes squinted to dispel the blindness and try and figure out what was happening. After another minute I realised that the windows on the main doors we’d come through had been blacked out, and they were now very much not. Letting in a stream of sunlight that slanted across the room like two death rays. I reached out to check Vishous was still with me, unsteady on my feet as I looked around for the escape. I spun and saw it behind me. “Thank fuck. Keep watching those doors and move with me.” I kept a hand on Vishous’ shoulder as we’d been taught in training, watching where I was going while trusting him to have my back. As I moved into the next room I had to blink slowly to get my eyes to focus again. “Holy shit.” I’d just passed the threshold of the room when I felt something snap against my ankle. I had a split second to tighten my grip on the Brother at my back before I threw myself forward and to the ground. “MOVE”.

I landed with another thump, wincing at the awkward ankle against my already bruised hip. The minute I did, my eyes started stinging again at the sudden brightness. I turned away and waited until the room started to dim again before trying my luck to look back towards the door. A shaft of light shone stark and unyielding across the doorway, which was now also closed. No way were we going back that way. And I had no choice but to slowly sit up and look around the place. The noise from the machines drowned out my thoughts. In any other circumstance I’d be like a kid in a candy store, but instead I just felt dread settle in my gut. “This shit isn’t made for humans is it? We’ve stumbled onto something specifically designed for our kind. Is it just me, or is that worrying?” ~

V: Time went from feeling like each sixty seconds that passed by, felt more like they lasted five minutes or more, to suddenly things were happening way to quick and I barely had time to catch my breath. I had been standing there, trying to keep my feet rooted in place while Dehv worked his magic on the puzzle hidden from sight in the ceiling. Then in the blink of an eye he was dislodged from my back and I was stumbling around, trying not to land on my ass which I was not too successful at. I knew the male had managed to slice himself up pretty good, I could easily smell his lifes blood in the air. But there was absolutely no time to dwell on anything because once the puzzle was solved, all things started to move and re-adjust in the makeshift room. It was pitch black and then there was light but fuckkkkk was it the wrong kind of illumination that we needed right now. My internal clock had already been screaming at me that the big ball of sun in the sky was approaching, so I knew we had missed our window to bail out of here at a decent time. Now the point was to survive this fucked up maze and hunker down until it was safe to travel outside again. I got up off my ass and followed the male out of the first escape room, keeping close as fuck to him but the second I heard that one word shouted from Dehv, I did just as he said. I moved without thinking, nose diving pretty much over his shoulder and eating the ground as I face planted and the once opening was now sealed up as if it had never been there. I rolled over onto my back, taking a moment to take full stock of myself before calling out to the warrior. “Thanks for the heads up, Dehv. Now tell me, what did you break?” I came up on my knees and closed the distance between us. “Yes, you hit that assumption on the fucking nose. This place is evidently designed to take out vamps and not humans.” On the tale end of those words the semi dark space we were in came to life as if someone had flipped a switch on. Lights of all colors flashed on and off, coming from various signs hanging on the walls and that was nothing of all the noises and blaring special effects that was bouncing off of each arcade game and pinball machine. If you were and eighties kid, then this place would be right up your alley, from the pacman game to the hair metal music pinging from the surround sound system setup in the room. “I really fucking hate games.”

Dehv: ~ I blinked again and let my eyes run around the room slowly. It really could have just been picked up and transported from one of those little seaside arcades. It had everything, from the pinball machines to the little air hockey tables and more. They were all crammed in together, and each one seemed to be numbered. I shook out my hands again, happy to see that they weren’t bleeding any more, and that the cuts weren’t as pronounced as they had been. Thank fuck for faster healing. Now if only the blood would work on my damn shoulder and hip I’d be a happy camper. I looked at Vishous, showing him my hands so that he could see I was fine. “Nothing broken, but I landed hard on my shoulder and hip. Nothing a little blood once we’re out of here won’t fix. I can move, so that’s all that we need to be worried about.” I moved to my knees as well and then stood, holding out my palm to help the Brother up if he would allow it. “It is for sure, the sunlight over all the entrances and exists tell that story. I wonder how many have gone through here, and when whoever designed it decided to involve the Brotherhood. Fucking dumb ass move on their part.” I snorted and then winced, “This place has been bleached to within an inch of its life. I’m guessing that means at some point there’s been blood spilt in this room. Watch your back.” I turned in a slow circle, not bothering to look for cameras or wires, I knew that Vishous could do that without thinking, and far more easily than I could do it. Instead I tried to see past the sunlight at the door into the other room. It was impossible though, the shaft of light was concentrated and fucking bright. Instead I moved slowly around the room, fingers drifting over each of the machines without clicking anything. The metal music that was blaring was really starting to wind me up, and I found my body practically vibrating with uncertainty. “I’m not bad at them, but they don’t look like they’re rigged. Can you see anything I’m missing? This air hockey table is set up for one player though, which is weird.” I exhaled hard and then stepped up to the pacman machine, rolling my shoulders I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to Vishous and then reached up to press the button to start it, swearing loudly at the electric shock that was delivered to my finger. “Fuck! Well that doesn’t look good if these aren’t even wired properly. They didn’t have you around to get it all sorted.” I shook out my hand again and then used the various buttons to move my little munching man around the screen. I realised quickly that the game was set up so that the levels were melded into one. The game got faster and faster until I was inevitably consumed by ghosts. The minute the GAME OVER came up on the screen another shock was delivered. Forcing my fingers into a fist with the power that zapped up my arm and constricted every muscle. It took every ouch of control to successfully pull away without breaking the various buttons as I scraped my fingers off the panel. I couldn’t speak, instead just curling in on myself while cradling my arm, breath coming in harsh pants while I tried to get myself back under control. ~ #TheEscapeRoomPt1

[hasty-touch]

Tips for leveling DoH & DoL

I am fondly known by my friends as "that guy who's obsessed with crafting and also Ishgard", so I'm ecstatic about getting to enjoy both those things in Shadowbringers. And I've been hearing a lot of my friends excited about the latter wanting to catch up with the former so they're ready to participate! I love crafting so much I've capped classes on 4 alts... so having leveled multiple times, I thought I'd share some of my thoughts and tips -- not a detailed how-to guide (though maybe I'll try to write one of those someday), but broader opinions about what strategies to take. This is geared more to DoH than DoL (which is more self-explanatory IMO) but I'll include thoughts on DoL too.

I learned how to craft back in the 2.5 era from GameFAQs and from ffxivguild -- though I can't easily recommend the latter anymore because their ads and autoplay videos have gotten really aggressive. If I find a good, current guide I'll add a link here.

Other resources well-loved by me or friends are Crafting as a Service for shopping lists and leveling planning, Ariyala for gearing, FFXIV Teamcraft for their endgame-invaluable simulator, and Garlandtools Bell for unspoiled nodes.

So let's see. What would my general tips be for people who are picking up DoH and DoL now in anticipation of Shadowbringers?

Your leveling options

There are lots of different ways for you to level your DoH and L, so if you hate one there's sure to be another option. Some of them, and my thoughts on the pros and cons of the different methods:

Class Quests. I strongly recommend doing your class quests as you unlock them! They give nice lumps of experience, shards/crystals for DoH, and gear (albeit NQ gear, so inferior to what you could make yourself). You should especially do 60-70, Stormblood era quests as you unlock them, as they give you powerful new traits and abilities. Of course, you have to fill the gaps between class quests with something:

Grinding. Just makin' stuff from your Crafting Log or gathering from your Gathering Log, or hanging out at a level-appropriate fishing hole and fishing. Potentially boring, but can actually add up to nice chunks of EXP, especially under Rested and with the aid of Engineering Manuals/Survival Manuals. (More on them later.)

Leveling DoH through grinding is probably your most expensive option, not only in terms of gil spent on the MB but retainer space used to store those materials.

Synthesize (manually crafting) gives more experience than Quick Synthesis -- if I understand correctly, the more steps you use in a craft the more experience you get, up to a point renofmanyalts says you get more exp the more you fill your Quality bar, which makes a lot more sense!

You can recover some of your gil by selling the items you make, so a little time researching what you can make at your level that sells well may be profitable in several ways.

Leveling DoL through grinding, on the other hand, is potentially a way to make money, if there's a high-demand item in the right level range.

You'll get more experience for HQ items and by maintaining a chain (i.e., not missing an item).

Since you can start and stop grinding whenever you want, you can use it both if you have lots or limited time to play. But I wouldn't recommend it as your primary method!

Grand Company Supply and Provisioning. One item requested each day for each class. You get a very nice chunk of experience, doubled if HQ, with a further bonus to starred items.

I like the GC as a leveling method. They usually take the length of one food buff (<= 30 minutes for all eight DoH classes, plus an additional <= 30 minutes for all three DoL classes), which is a manageable amount of chores per day. You get GC seals, which can be spent on manuals, Cordials, squadron missions, etc., to further help you.

You are limited to one item per class per day, so once you've handed in your day's items, you have to find something else to do. It's great if you play every day, but if you have a lot of playtime on just a few days of the week you may not be able to take the same advantage.

You do have to buy and store the materials, and since the assignment each day is random, it may take up a lot of retainer space.

Levequests/guildleves. While technically limited by your leve allowances (which can be checked at the bottom of your journal), you get 3 allowances every 12 hours and you can store up to 100, and you've gotta really grind leves to spend 100 leve allowances. They give nice chunks of experience, doubled for HQ.

"Levekits" are bundles of items sold by higher-level crafters and fishers which, when handed in to levemetes, get you enough experience to bump you up to the target level (50, 60, etc.) They're an option -- and if you really must be level 70 today, they're your only option -- but I don't really recommend them. If you learn to craft yourself while you level, you'll understand how the abilities work together and won't be overwhelmed by buttons at cap. Even if you intend only to craft at cap using other people's macros, a little bit of knowledge will help you troubleshoot and improve them.

If you take advantage of DoH leves, I would recommend you make the items yourself instead, gaining experience both for the crafting and for the turn-in. You will have to buy/gather the materials, but since you can decide what leves you're going to target in advance and just get materials for those, storage is not as problematic.

MIN and BTN leves send you to a location to gather key items that are handed in at the end of the leve, sometimes with special targets (changing what actions you'd spend your GP on). For the time invested you get more exp than just grinding, but you don't have items to sell at the end of it.

Large-Scale Temple Knight leves (marked with "(L)" in the levequest name) are generally considered not worth your time because they take 10x the allowances and only give 3x the exp.

You can do as many leves as you want per day as long as you have the allowances, so you can take advantage if you've got a lot or a little time.

Beast Tribes. You can get DoH exp from the Ixal (intended for level 1-50) and the Moogles (50-60), and either DoH or DoL from the Namazu (60-70). You're limited by Beast Tribe Daily Quest Allowances (12 per day for any beast tribes of your choice) and the number of quests that tribe offers (Ixal start with Deliverance, which is sort of like a bonus daily GC supply mission + 3 dailies, and progressively more are offered as you level up; Moogles and Namazu normally gives you 3 a day, but you get a bonus 3 on days your Reputation ranks up.) They give nice, moderate lumps of exp.

One of the great advantages of beast tribes is that you are given the materials for the item(s) required by the quest, so you only have to pay for crystals -- and you're often rewarded crystals for completion, making them free aside from teleport and repair costs!

Ranking up unlocks more items at the tribe's vendor. The Ixal have a wonderful selection of lumber, and you can buy the Adept and Trailblazer (level 58) sets from the Moogles with Carved Kupo Nuts, etc.

Unlocking Ixal only requires the level 41 MSQ "In Pursuit of the Past". But you gotta unlock the Moogles and the Namazu not only through MSQ (respectively, level 56 "He Who Would Not Be Denied" and level 66 "In Crimson They Walked") but through sidequest chains. The Moogle unlock chain is long and starts with "A Pebble for Your Thoughts" in Moghome (and then after "Trouble at Zenith" you gotta pick up "Into the Mists" from the Pillars). The Namazu require two short chains from Yanxia, starting with "Courage the Cowardly Lupin" and "Perchance to Hanami".

The Ixal daily "Deliverance" will take items you bought off the MB, but otherwise you must do all beast tribes tasks yourself.

The tasks given to you in the Moogle and Namazu DoH quests are really easy -- as long as you grasp the barest basics of crafting, you can succeed at them (and you can retry as many times as you like, only losing crystals). The Ixal dailies take away your hand slot gear to begin with and slowly add challenge with increasing restrictions such as cross-class ability lockouts. They're not hard, per se, but you have to puzzle over it a bit more than usual.

You can cheat and do Moogle dailies on a higher level class than you hand it in on. You can’t with Namazu -- you have to complete the quest with the same class you picked it up with.

Though quick, they do take a little bit of time, most of which traveling between quest points. Denisot's round today of 3 Moogle dailies took 5 minutes, but if you get one that involves repreated trips it can take longer. Still, they're good if you can play every day even if only briefly.

You might get asked to type "free kupo nuts" in /say.

Collectables (Rowena's House of Splendors). After (IIRC) level 50, after MSQ "The Better Half", you can unlock collectables via the quest "Inscrutable Tastes" in Revenant's Toll. You can then hand in collectables to the House of Splendors (via kiosks at the main cities, Revenant's Toll, Idyllshire, and Rhalgr's Reach) to receive experience and scrips. Like GC supply and provisioning, each day the requested items change. Also like the GC, there's a chance the requested items will have a star next to them, giving bonus scrip and exp. It's always the highest-level turn-in available to you that has a chance of a star.

Collectable crafting works exactly the same as regular crafting. You just toggle on Collector's Glove (an action you can get from your actions window and/or put on your hotbar) and craft as if you were trying for HQ; your HQ chance is converted into collectable rating.

Collectable fishing is AFAIK essentially the same as fishing for HQ. Again, you just toggle on Collector's Glove and try to land a big/HQ fish.

Collectable MIN and BTN, on the other hand, is its whole own little mini-game added on to the normal gathering minigame. You'll want to look up a guide on how to do collectable gathering -- I don't have one handy at the moment. It's not hard, necessarily, but it's a new system to learn!

Rowena's House of Splendors is truly unlimited, and you can hand in as many collectables as you want each day. The experience isn't great, though, even for starred items, so I would recommend against going crazy and doing these all day long. LOVE YOURSELF!

The amounts of scrip rewarded isn't great to begin with, so grinding for rewards will be pretty miserable until you get up into the mid-high 50s. However, if you must have the full Adept's set today, it's an option!

Red Crafters' Scrip (the current common scrip) can be traded for a variety of items, such as manuals, level 60 gear (via Rowena's Token (Blue Crafters' Scrip)), Soul of the Crafter (for changing specializations after your free choice of three from Alderan), IV-V materia, old mats, etc. Red Gatherers' Scrip can also be traded for gear and materia, more valuable old mats (like Pterodactyl), and good fishing bait like Brute Leech and Silkworm.

Collectables are not tradeable, so you must do them yourself. You can't buy the items or get a friend to make them for you.

For DoH, you do have to buy and store the materials, as with Grand Company Supply, unless you exclusively do:

Custom Deliveries. The first client is Zhloe Aliapoh, unlocked at level 60 with quest "Arms Wide Open" in Idyllshire. These tasks take collectables, like Rowena's House of Splendors, but are limited to 6 hand-ins per week per client and 12 hand-ins per week across all clients. If you do them at level cap, you get valuable yellow scrips, but you can also use your allowances for leveling classes below cap.

The materials for DoH Custom Deliveries are sold by vendors in town (Scrap Salvager in Idyllshire, Material Supplier in Rhalgr's Reach, and Blue Merchant in Tamamizu) They're cheap, and you're awarded gil at hand-in, so DoH Custom Deliveries are almost-free-to-profitable to do. DoL, as usual, cost only teleport and repair costs.

The time required is generally very little -- FSH probably takes the longest because of RNG. And you can do them whenever you have time during the week.

If you're using them for leveling, the experience is only modest. But it is a very easy, low-effort way to get red scrips and experience (if you do them below cap) and yellow scrips (if you do them at cap).

AFAIK, Zhloe only requires you unlock Idyllshire level and be 60 in one DoH or DoL class. M'naago requires the MSQ cleared through "Return of the Bull" (SB 4.1). Kurenai requires you to have unlocked M'naago and finished the quest chain that starts with "The Palace of Lost Souls" (including quests not currently marked with a blue unlocky !).

For DoH, like with Moogle dailies, you can craft the collectable item on any class, then change classes before handing it in.

Challenge Log. Don't forget that you get lumps of experience each week for crafting NQ and HQ items, melding materia, gathering NQ and HQ from nodes, and fishing NQ and HQ fish. The quantities are modest, but they're a nice bonus if you choose to level through a method that involves crafting/gathering items yourself (GC Supply/Provisioning, levequests, grinding, etc.)

Overall, my recommendation would be to try a little bit of every leveling method and find out what's enjoyable for you and fits nicely into your budget and schedule. We have a half-year until Shadowbringers, so if you start now you can take a relaxed pace -- no need to rush, grind doing stuff you hate, and burn yourself out.

Engineering and Survival Manuals and similar buffs

There are a variety of buffs that will help you level, giving you more experience per craft or gather. For DoH, you want Engineering Manuals (the yellow ones); for DoL, it's Survival Manuals (the green ones). You can get these from all sorts of sources -- all the ones I remember are:

Rewards from doing your class quests. Another reason to stay on top of em! These Commercial * Manuals give a 150% boost and last 60 minutes or up to 300,000 exp. You can buy more from Rowena's House of Splendors with red scrips.

Bought from your GC quartermaster (Grand Company Seal Exchange). The strongest ones available are Company-Issue * Manual II (+50% for 180 minutes or for 100,000 exp) for sergeants. Company-Issue * Manuals do not stack with Commerical * Manuals.

Free Company actions. "Helping Hand II" and "Earth and Water II" can be bought from the OIC Quartermaster and give 10% more experience to DoH and DoL respectively. The more powerful III versions are charged on an Aetherial Wheel and provide a 20% bonus.

Rewarded from Squadron Priority Missions. You unlock your GC squadron, IIRC, at Second Lieutenant rank, and unlock Priority Missions by completing the level 40 Flagged Mission. The Squadron * Manuals (+20% for 120 minutes, no limit) you can obtain once-a-week from Priority Mission manuals do not stack with Free Company actions.

Company-Issue/Commercial manuals DO stack with Squadron manuals/FC actions.

The recruit-a-friend reward, Friendship Circlet, can be worn while crafting and gathering for 20% more exp when level 25 or below. Same for the Stormblood preorder(?) reward, Ala Mhigan Earrings, which gives 30% more exp when level 50 or below. Brand-New Ring is wearable only by Disciples of War or Magic, so you can't use that.

While it's not an exp bonus, the crafting facility furnishings (Woodworking Bench, etc.) grant a nice 60 minutes of bonus CP to DoH of level 60 or lower, AND THEY CAN NOW BE PUT INTO STORAGE!!! \o/

And of course, don't forget to eat some sort of food while you're crafting or gathering for the 3% exp bonus.

Which DoH should I level up first?

The correct answer to this question has been, and continues to be, everything at once; omnicrafting is the best way.

In the eras of 2.0 and 3.0, the cross-class abilities you gained from the classes were essential to being able to craft HQ items. Not just at endgame -- having those cross-class abilities while leveling makes your life much, much easier. And because the recipes of each class take components from other classes (e.g., WVR recipes always want a bit of leather and metal), leveling everything up together made you self-sufficient and less vulnerable to wild mark-ups on processed materials at the Market Board. Therefore, I join the majority of crafters in continuing to recommend leveling up all your DoH together.

However...

In 4.0, Stormblood, the designers' vision for DoH changed. From levels 61-70, all classes learn the same abilities, which are stronger (but more expensive) versions of the old cross-class mainstays like Careful Synthesis, Manipulation, and Hasty Touch. Nowadays, if somebody slogged through levels 1-60 on one DoH with no cross-class abilities, they would actually be able to craft at level 70 almost as successfully as an omnicrafter. Since the developers have stated that they're very happy with the crafting system right now, it's reasonable to guess Shadowbringers will be similar.

Additionally, not all cross-class abilities are equally valuable. Whenever a new tier of crafting difficulty is added, the endgame meta shifts slightly, but right now, cross-class abilities like Waste Not and Flawless Synthesis aren't really used.

Therefore, while I do recommend you level up everything together, if you really don't want to, you can get away with abandoning some classes along the way. If Ishgard Reconstruction turns out to be similar to beast tribes, you might get away with having just one capped DoH. On the other hand, the developers have teased exclusive challenges for endgame crafters somehow connected to the Ishgard Reconstruction content, so if you want to be ready for whatever that turns out to be, you should at least get all your cross-class abilities.

My tentative recommendation for DoH leveling priority is something like this:

Get anything to 10 to unlock Quick Synthesis.

Get everything to 15. For example:

WVR 15 (Careful Synthesis)

ALC 15 (Tricks of the Trade)

GSM 15 (Manipulation)

CUL 15 (Hasty Touch)

CRP 15 (Rumination)

ARM (Rapid Synthesis), BSM (Ingenuity), LTW (Waste Not).

CUL 37 (Steady Hand II)

WVR 50 (Careful Synthesis II)

ALC 50 (Comfort Zone)

CRP 50 (Byregot's Blessing)

ARM 50 (Piece by Piece)

CUL 50 (Reclaim)

BSM 50 (Ingenuity II)

GSM 50 (Innovation)

CUL 54 (Muscle Memory)

If you MUST skip one DoH entirely, I'd pick LTW, since the Waste Nots are generally inferior to the Manipulations.

You COULD drop CUL after 54's very useful Muscle Memory. And since CUL doesn't correspond to gear, it doesn't help you repair or meld materia, and other classes generally don't need materials processed by CUL.

Various classes' level 54 Name of [Element] cross-class abilities aren't that useful at present -- they're sometimes used in endgame rotations. GSM's level 54 Maker's Mark is also not currently that useful, though it was OP a couple patches back.

Still -- I think it's safest, and for me less annoying, to level everything together.

Should I craft using macros?

Yes -- I think macros are great for relieving the tedium of the repetitive crafting tasks, which you’ll often have while leveling. (Wish I could tell you where to look for good macros, but as I mentioned, I learned years ago, and I just write my own macros these days!)

However, I think you should spend some time manually crafting as well. It will help you understand when and why you use certain abilities, how not to overcap Durability and CP, why you might or might not take Tricks of the Trade, etc. That skill and knowledge will help you even if you plan to primarily use macros at cap, since it will enable you to tweak those macros to be even better for your stats, teach you when you should cancel a macro and take over, etc. Nevermind that macros are very vulnerable to server congestion and lag...

And once you know how to craft, you will almost always have a higher potential quality manually crafting than using a macro -- your ability to respond to changes in Condition can get you precious more stacks of Inner Quiet or CP for upgrading Touches. I often use macros for putting together components but manually craft the final product to be sure I get the highest possible quality.

Other tips for leveling DoH?

I think you'll find one of the most invaluable resources for leveling baby DoH is access to a house or apartment with a Material Supplier. Your friendly FC (or apartment) Material Supplier will take care of practically all your materials needs through level 20 or more.

There are other useful Materials Suppliers scattered around -- in addition to the those in main cities and each of the guilds, check out the ones in the marketplaces out in residential districts.

I also strongly recommend unlocking every 2.0 A Realm Reborn beast tribe because even at mere Neutral standing the tribe vendors offer materials like Undyed Velveteen and Mythril Ingots that you’ll be using in quantity.

Don’t forget to upgrade your gear as you go, even if you’re just putting on new NQ gear from your class quests. DoL is particularly sensitive to gear -- you can really feel the difference when you upgrade a piece.

And really -- like in all aspects of the game, please be sure to pace yourself and make sure you’re enjoying yourself as you go. We’ve got plenty of time.

If you’ve leveled your DoH and DoL recently, what lessons have you learned you wish you’d had at the beginning? Or if you’re leveling right now, what questions do you have? I’m happy to opine or give basic pointers!

You may find my guide/checklist for DoH and DoL class quest items useful, if you haven’t already seen it. And as I mentioned, I may work on a more detailed, how-to-actually-craft-the-things guide in the future, if there’s interest.

Please, don’t be shy and get in touch! I am so excited to work together to rebuild Ishgard with you!!

[connywrites]

Snowbound

also on [ao3]

-

Gavin wasn’t exactly the type to try to and redeem himself, as he didn’t find anything inherently wrong with his actions, with the background of being raised to take what you can get and then some. Destroying Connors one by one like pins in the way of a bowling alley, he’d made a bit of an impression on the team; not one that particularly mattered, as Connors were so easily replaceable, but one that was noticed by the entire department, including Connor itself. For an android that was supposed to lack a personality, it’d begun holding a disposition in regard to him and him alone that it didn’t share with the rest of them. Hank had been warming up to it, but occasionally Connor was allowed to switch between partners for the pure sake of more help once Hank was getting back on his feet and back into the work routine, even if he didn’t consider it so much of an accomplishment, himself; whatever paid the bills, he begrudgingly told himself every time to talk himself out of quitting the job and walking out, even on the worst of days.

Working with Gavin was different for Connor, practically a Hank and a half in regards to his explosive personality, including the scapegoating, constant nagging and pushing made Anderson pale in comparison in the android’s synthetic psyche, and it personally saw no real use in helping someone that thoroughly refused it; but per usual, Cyberlife’s programming superseded any other order, and as such, it followed what it was naturally designed to do, even if it wasn’t always what it was told to do. Their current situation was no exception.

“Well, my phone’s busted, we’re in the middle of nowhere and the cruiser is as good as dead.” They’d been set up, and he was furious, having come back to the police car only to find the four tires slashed and something in the console ripped out that he assumed played major part to its functionality, considering he couldn’t even turn the thing on.

“You’re hooked up to all that shit, right? Maybe you can radio signal someone over?” Connor shook its head.

“We’re too far from any towers, so my WiFi connection is virtually nonexistent though I have continued to ping in an attempt.” Frankly, Connor was tempted to pursue the deviant or attacker on its own, as it held no regard for human lives, but was unfortunately directed to work with Gavin and thus accepted it would do exactly as it must.

“It would be best if I sought help while you stayed here.” Gavin looked up from his place which was sat on the ground in the old abandoned house, away from the blizzard and the windchill despite the air gushing in through a few broken windows. Luckily an empty house meant a few commodities, so he managed to scrap a blanket and some stale crackers that he hoped would get him by until help arrived.

“Tch, yeah, sure, and get yourself frozen up?” It was half in deflection of his own desire not to be left alone and half a solid truth, as he knew androids could only tolerate extreme temperatures to a certain extent, and only so long.

“If your GPS isn’t working, there’s no way you’ll find a way back and we’ll both end up lost.” The amount of emotion in his tone almost came as a surprise to him, as he unintentionally spoke of the android as if it were another person on his side – a strange habit, and a difficult one to dismiss, considering how Cyberlife designed them to replicate humans seemingly as well as physically possible.

As much as Connor wanted to deny the fact, take the matter into his own hands and do something to solve it, unfortunately, Gavin was right, and it, too, would have to stay behind for the sake of the survival and safety of both of them. Standing idly in the middle of the room, it looked around, doing a scan over the area to see if it could find anything useful for the sake of getting out of or fixing their unfortunate predicament, but it seemed as though their best bet might be letting the storm pass; but how long that would take was indeterminate without access to weather information, and Michigan’s climate was already unpredictable before irreversible global warming took effect. Turning to face Gavin, it figured it might as well do a quick analysis of his physical statistics, the only oddity registering to it being his heightened heartrate and blood pressure from the caffeine, and low oxygen from the “occasional” cigarette, considering he wasn’t in the worst health for a smoker and had minimal nicotine in his system.

While the physical ‘symptoms’ that showed up on its internal screen made sense, there was a strange look in Gavin’s eyes that seemed unusual to it, and after a few more seconds of processing, it came to the understanding that the increased heartrate wasn’t only from the coffee, but reading the expression on his face and the dilation in his eyes, it acknowledged he was afraid. Blinking twice, its LED shifted to yellow and rotated twice while its coding shuffled through a few suggested prompts, before picking one and adding the rest to its list of objectives for after the fact. There was a flicker in the corner of its programming as the software instability testing rose with signature blue Cyberlife arrows, something it knew it should be ‘concerned’ about, but temporarily dismissed.

“Once it isn’t blizzarding as immensely, I will attempt to contact someone again. We were able to get out this far, so as soon as anyone knows we’re here, they probably can, too,” it stated in its meager attempts at reassurance. Gavin was already difficult to keep calm, and times like this it was reminded that the action wouldn’t go as smoothly as it often expected, or foolishly hoped for.

“It’ll still take them hours, just like it did with us,” Gavin groused with a scowl.

“There is nothing I can do about that,” Connor responded in a sterner tone than its usual polite cadence, but nonetheless, it stepped its toes into the metaphorical water and physically trekked over to Gavin, crouching down before sitting awkwardly beside him, knees jutting out as long legs crossed in front of it. Gavin watched with as much amusement as he could from the stiff, awkward ways that Connor moved about; literally robotic, and part of why he found the damn things so funny.

“Listen, detective,” Connor opened, and Gavin snapped his jaws shut with a wary glare, but didn’t interrupt.

��I realize I haven’t exactly been your favorite person on the team, but I have done nothing but try to help you since I was put on this case. While I don’t appreciate your aggressive demeanor towards me, I’m willing to temporarily set it aside if you are.” Gavin’s irritated expression fell, and Connor offered the slightest twitch in one corner of its lip with one of those goofy, but subtle, crooked smiles. Gavin huffed through his nostrils, avoiding eye contact by averting his gaze to the side as he pulled his folded arms closer to him, bringing his legs up to rest his elbows and his head on his knees as he bunched up to try and get warmer.

“Truce?” Connor reached a hand over in an offer to shake, and Gavin almost couldn’t believe how many mechanisms must have been built into this machine to make it as formal as it was. As little as he knew about android functionality overall, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt either of them to respond in a good way, even as a ‘test’.

“Yeah, whatever, but only until we get out of this.” Taking its hand in his own, he took a second to tune in on the sensation of shaking hands with an android, something he had never done before, only to find himself surprised with how real it felt. While he knew those hands were synthetic, they held the average warmth of an adult human, and he remembered they had some kind of interior heating system to replicate the warm-bloodedness of a mammal. Artificial lungs that pumped air through without actively changing the chemicals as humans’ would with surrounding air, a fake heart that pumped liquid chemicals, identifiably manmade with how the texture seemed to glisten like pixels on a screen, but a ‘fresh’ liquid and one that was very real even if it disappeared from human sight after so long. Strange, eerie, unusual, but despite being well aware the android was but plastic, metal, cables and bolts, the warmth and skin-like texture of its hand, the firm grip, and the double-shake with a medium firmness suddenly seemed much more fluid and less awkward than the android’s other typical actions in Gavin’s mind.

For a moment, he wondered what it was like in their ‘minds,’ being sentient enough but still having to follow orders, to do what you told them to, except granted a precious gift of pseudo-immortality, considering they could metaphorically come back from the dead, looking exactly the same before, fresh and new and whole again. It was unusual and strikingly inhuman compared to the other details, down to the clean-shaven look of the pores on Connor’s face—wait, how long had he been staring at it so closely? Longer than he was aware of, he assumed by the curious, puzzled look Connor gave him, and he let go of its hand when he withdrew, wearing one of his typical frowns as he surveyed the android for its reaction, noticing the particular quirks in its facial features as its eyebrows twitched upward, then lowered, and the way its opticals flickered by a millimeter as they looked between both of his own, meaning it was maintaining eye contact; another strange and overall human aspect of the android’s behavior. The amount of details that blended between android actions and human-like interactions seemed to be what blurred so smoothly it subtly settled into the human psyche, and he knew he wasn’t the only one that had difficulty maintaining the act of treating them for exactly what they were, and nothing else, despite Kamski and Cyberlife’s clear attempts to make them into nothing more than friendly faces with wires and chips instead of veins and brains.

One the other hand, a few more moments of thought made him come to the conclusion he’d looked past the more ‘natural’ attributes because of the pure hatred he had for the things, trying to mentally adjust as his mind shifted through thoughts, opinions, constructions of Connor’s place in the world and how he’d previously feared it could swipe the job from under his feet. Now it was on the job with him, working for him rather than replacing him, and the dynamic suddenly seemed easier to manage, as if Connor wasn’t something he’d hated with a passion, feeling the conscience difference as he thought back over to Hank and how he, too, had a change of heart over his time of working with Connor – was this what that was like? For a moment he thought that perhaps the RK800 was as charming as it was programmed to be, but dismissed the idea as he didn’t want to give it that much credit for something he’d decided on himself.

Gavin supposed the shift of mentality might have been due to his own refusal to accept any other impression of the androids in the first place. The change was definitely bizarre to him and seemed rather sudden, but maybe if he paid closer attention to Connor while it was on ‘his team’, he thought of the possibility of putting together a better understanding of Connor, and perhaps androids in general – for better or worse.

Connor, on the other hand, as was its nature, didn’t feel much at all despite the typical pre-programmed reactionary responses that cued itself in on how to interact with its surroundings. Software instabilities still occurred, but not often enough to sway it towards deviancy, for the time being. Still, it could tell that Gavin’s behavior had changed, even in the slightest agree, and couldn’t help a sense of ‘gratitude’ for the sake of appreciating the newfound ease, even if he’d snap back into his old habits sooner or later.

Connor looked him over with calculated eyes, and his own wandered to look at the model number that seemed to glow on the android's jacket, a visual indicator alongside the bright blue pixelated triangle on the other side of the particularly designed jacket with "ANDROID" flashing across the back. If the LED on the right side of its forehead wasn't an obvious indicator, Cyberlife ensured you knew they sent the android to aid in the investigation.

For a moment, Gavin thought back to Lieutenant Anderson, thinking over how his behavior and overall personality had changed over the years, from the birth of his son to his unfortunate loss; the way he'd grown tired, aggressive and sarcastic in his aged years on the team. Overall, he couldn't blame him, personally stuck in the awkward ages between 35 and 40 and feeling like he was too young to have a midlife crisis, but too old to ultimately drag attention over the fact he felt anything about his age.

RK800 had the physical characteristics of someone around his time of life, but he couldn't pinpoint an exact number of years; guessing someone's record of experience was impossible with an android. "Connor" was only six months old total in design, but it had come back repeatedly after "severe damages" and noticeably increased Hank's depression by doing so. The idea of being able to come back in a fresh, new shell every time you so much as got shot or fell from a ladder was ultimately depressing, and the entire department felt it when their immortal teammate returned to solve the most dangerous of cases all over again.

Repeatedly. Over and over, he'd seen those brown, artificial eyes tracking him, the expressionless look on its face, the awkward twitch of its eyebrows and the infamous LED always blinking, turning yellow, calculating, uploading. It was disgusting by sight alone, and he couldn't blame Hank for how he felt over the matter -- and thus didn't blame him when he did, finally, quit the force, secretly thinking it was a long time coming once he'd had a mouthful with Fowler over his ever-growing pile of 'warnings', even though his boss refused to do anything, let alone fire him; so Hank had taken it into his own hands to "take care of it himself."

Everyone had, one way or another, seen the suicide coming. Sumo was put up for adoption while there was a tense, still silence across the entire department. Hank's well-known friends had become quiet, unfriendly out of pure shock and no idea what to do with the fact that it really did happen.

Lo and behold, as the next detective down the career ladder, they'd put Connor with him as a permanent asset; needless to say, he wasn't pleased, but ultimately made the decision to stop riddling it with bullet holes in favor it being a hassle as well as another cruel reminder. In turn, the death had affected him more than he expected it to. As he assumed, the supposedly flawless android was ultimately unphased by something deeply disturbing by the humans.

"Any luck on tracking location?" The android paused, LED rotating yellow before blinking three times while it attempted to utilize its tracker, to no avail.

"No," it responded flatly. Gavin sighed.

-

The day progressed into evening, then a cold night, the blizzard ongoing all the while.

"I've managed to maintain a connection to the department," Connor stated, rousing Gavin from his shallow slumber and rumbling snore with a startled gasp that hitched in his throat.

"Oh, good. Sending someone?" Connor hesitated, glancing in the direction of the building as it tried to transfer information, with little avail as its LED rotated and blinked yellow and blue repeatedly.

"I...had managed a connection," it reluctantly admitted in defeat. Gavin's eyebrows quickly scrunched in skeptic disbelief.

"You fuckin' kidding me?" Sighing, he rolled his eyes, staring out the nearest window as his vision settled on the bittersweet, crisp snow continuously falling from the sky.

"Unfortunately not," it replied honestly with a disappointed tone to its voice, and for a moment Gavin wondered how thin the line between machines and deviants really was.

"Fuck. It's freezing and I'm starved," he complained, running a hand through his hair and scowling at the greasy texture collected from the days without showering. Connor glanced at him with a gaze of thought, LED continuing to cycle as the android continued its attempts to link up with Wi-Fi and telephone signals nearby.

"As my internal temperature is set to replicate the 98.8° Fahrenheit that is average human body temperature, I unfortunately can’t aid you in the means of warmth, let alone food.” It was frustrating; the android was designed to serve, protect, to help, and even if it was only default programming, being unable to follow through with it felt self-defeating, similar to the sinking mock-dread of a failed mission. Had it failed? Had it failed Gavin?

“Ugh, it’s fine,” he retorted, even if the disdain still filled his voice, “I just can’t wait to get home to my bed with hot coffee and a meal.” Closing his eyes, he dragged a hand down his face, taking in the sensation of pulling skin for what it was. Bodily contact with an android was already a foreign and uncomfortable idea, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the way it mentioned body temperature. Was it suggesting physical touch or was he overthinking? Likely the latter.

“Not like I’m going to snuggle you or something.” Connor blinked, turning its head, and suddenly his cheeks reddened with heat of embarrassment as he realized just how bizarre that statement came across. His mind had entered an odd, uncomfortable place he was quick to shy away from as soon as the android looked at him, swallowing as he planted his palms on the ground and lowered his shoulders in a moment of anxiety.

“Physical contact may contribute to a slight raise in temperature, yes, but not enough to make it necessary.” To Connor, the comment was out of the blue covering left field, eyebrows wavering with their usual twitches, before they lowered over narrowed eyes as it looked at him with a rather stern, skeptical expression now on its face.

“However, I didn’t consider it before, but my jacket may help you collect body heat if you layer it over your own.” It was true; the Cyberlife jacket was thick with waterproof cloth so the rain would slide right off like the feathers of a duck, only soaking the surface enough to make the fabric darken and shine even in heavier storms.

Gavin stared, pausing, thinking of the practicality of the situation. The android was right, after all, even if he didn’t want to admit it; it’d grant more warmth than he had, and it would be fitted a few sizes bigger, leaving him with little argument while his body shivered, clattering his teeth.

“Yeah, give me that,” he demanded, watching as Connor rather nonchalantly shed the clothing from its shoulders, leaving behind the white long-sleeve buttonup shirt that snugly fit its physical frame. The tie it seemed to constantly adjust in a smug, prim manner, the same way it flattened its lapels or ran its fingers along the sides of its slicked-back hair, occasionally checking its reflection in the mirror – another odd behavior that seemed completely unnecessary to install, in his opinion.

Still, for the time being, he had to wait the night through. Connor settled beside him with a respectable distance while it closed its eyes, leaning back against the same wall. Momentarily feeling better, Gavin closed his eyes as well, curling up on himself as he drifted back off to sleep.

-

“Gavin,” the android prompted, voice enlightened with something similar to excitement as it reached to grab his shoulder and gently shake it, firm enough to stir him from unconsciousness once more.

“There is help coming. They should be here in the next fifteen minutes. The storm has cleared, and I’ve managed to re-link with the DPD and Cyberlife.” Offering a soft smile, it held out its hand for him to take; blinking up at it, he still felt himself lost in a half-asleep daze, blinking at the android’s attire as it was left in its dress suit and tie, before glancing down at the layered RK800 jacket over his own and remembering—quickly jolting awake as he recoiled from Connor, scowling at it and prompting it to cast an unamused gaze.

“…Oh. Right.” Sighing, he reached out to take Connor’s hand for the sake of ease, letting it pull him to his feet as he stretched his back with the heavy popping of vertebrae cartilage and a long, drawn-out yawn. Sighing, he pulled Connor’s jacket from his shoulders, feeling warmer now that the sun had peeked through the clouds, handing it back as he was insistent that he didn’t wind up being seen with it on. Connor slid it back on over its arm, carefully slipping it through as it pulled the jacket over that shoulder, then the next, re-fitting it to its bodily form with an adjustment of the lapels and a tightening of its tie, just as it always did.

“Now that that’s over with, let’s get outta here.”