#barely any people on earth has the means to even get into a situation like this

[comediakaidanovsky]

imagine your favorite barbie coming alive and calling you cringe what would you do

[villainessbian]

Concept: most aliens can get anxious, can get scared, can get fight-or-flight. What most aliens do not get, however, is stress. Stress is a weird thing even by human standards. It can build up over time or be something tied to a very limited situation. It can be caused by a lot of things, and it comes in a lot of different ways. But it's a core human reaction, when a situation is wrong, it causes stress until it is righted. And it even affects different people differently!

Cue Human Cassandra, on a ship with her friend and co-worker Human Pauline. The ship is crewed with a mix of species. It's a cargo ship - load up in a space port, unload in another, get news and supplies during their stops, and live as an ever-shifting family as some of the two dozen crew members, give or take, get replaced. Some leave come payday, and new ones come looking for the thrill of low-level adventure, experiencing warp drives across the safer roads of the known universe.

But getting the supplies you need, or want, in stops is never so easy. Humans are new to the galactic community, and their needs misunderstood. Most broad-edibility food is bland for them, but that's okay. A big enough bag of their condiments can last them years. But ADHD meds... now that's less easy to get, the further from Earth you are. And a contract too big for their captain to pass on came up, much farther than the two humans expected.

Cassandra's mood deteriorated, her work priorities out of order, her sleep schedule in disarray. Little by little, she grew restless, shifting moods and gears unpredictably. A few weeks in and she was a mess, barely able to keep up with the minimum her job doing maintenance and running safety diagnostics for the route charting team required of her. While Pauline could help with the mechanical aspects of keeping the ship running, picking up the "slack", the safety had to be double-checked by the charting and pilot teams. When the curves of asteroid probability reached beyond a certain level, several hundred simulations had to be run, time-consuming processes had to be used, to avoid any collision at speeds beyond speed c. Some truly exotic things happened to ships that experienced those, but none of them contained the words "surviving crew." A safe route avoided any probability of collision over .1% and when going faster than light, any choice of course required thinking in 3 dimensions plus relative time to navigate dangerous probability fields in one piece, finding time-specific corridors and accounting for a dozen variables at once.

After she had a breakdown over a path she would normally have been able to find in under a minute, Pauline spoke to a concerned pilot team member:

"You have to understand her, this is a stressful situation and she's doing her best..."

"What do you mean by 'stressful'?" Gabalt asked. The furry little creature stood on two arched legs, and barely reached up to Pauline's shoulder, opening three wide eyes with curiosity and concern in equal parts.

"Things are... getting difficult for her, and keep getting more difficult because she does not have medication to help her brain be efficient. It makes her tired, and inefficient, and as it goes on, she's less and less able to cope with the situation. The longer this goes on, the worse it gets, and that is stress. Getting more tired because it takes more energy to deal with the situation, and less efficient because she's more tired, and things get harder because she's less efficient, on and on until something can solve the problem and the stress goes away."

"That sounds... hard. Do all humans have to deal with this?"

"Well, everyone has sources of stress, but she's got a disability. Without her meds, she gets stressed all the time. Not a lot all at once, but it always adds up."

"Oh no! So she'll be stuck like that until we get closer to Earth?"

"Most likely, yes."

But the most momentous thing to happen this day was not her breakdown. Not an hour later, alarms blared up. The simulation holograms all displayed blinking red masses - the less-travelled "safe route" was not as well protected! An asteroid range had been detected cutting through the border field, and it was in their way!

Pauline froze up, not knowing what to do. Gabalt was too surprised to act fast. All the courses from the ship's library of regular manoeuvres suggested a crash chance of over 60%, and mere seconds to act before entering the field!

Before anyone could react, Cassandra came in running from her corner to the front of the bridge, slamming the warp drive shutdown button. Most holograms stuttered and collapsed, the exit from FTL essentially dividing one or several of their dimensions by zero.

Looking quickly at the few remaining ones and gazing at the screens showing the current outside situation like a large window would have - plus a few critical extra points of data - she adjusted the angles manually while everyone still shuddered from the gravitational and temporal whiplash of suddenly coming back into normal time. Unblinkingly, she spotted the asteroids on the route while the ship was still going, if not at relativistic speeds, still fast enough for a single pebble they met to vaporise the Whipple shields, the outer hull, the inner hull, the crew members, and the hull again coming out if they but grazed it. Confirming the angles visually, she played with the reaction wheels, the thrusters, the gravity drives, to divert the ship's course just enough to miss a collision while not risking any grave injury on board. There was no time to react - if anything showed up straight ahead on the "unaugmented" outside view screens, it was too late to not get splatted. After half the crew had had the time to get thrown to the side or on the ground due to the rough handling, she'd managed to avoid any crash.

Gabalt was reeling. While it was surely not impossible, these was the kind of moves experienced veterans would never wish to attempt, and the margins for error were ridiculously low! She'd saved the ship and everyone on it, whereas she'd been unable to do a simple safety run so soon before?

Pauline was white as a sheet, but this was nothing compared to Cassandra, shaking violently and breathing unevenly.

"Pauline? What is she doing?"

"That's... probably the adrenaline."

"What's it for?"

"It's from stress. When it comes it overcharges the body. It's like the traditional, 'fight or flight' instinct from survival in prey-predator paradigms, it lets you move fast but paralyses thought... it feels pretty bad after a lot of it is released though. Now she's crashing down, must be harrowing."

"How did she do that? And you said her thoughts were paralysed for precision manoeuvres?"

Cassandra's voice came, nearly a mutter: "I just... had to. do it."

Gabalt needed to understand what happened.

"What do you mean you had to? Someone had to do it, but why you?"

"It- it was very stressful, I saw you freeze, and so."

"But... but HOW did you do all that? That was extremely complicated, few pilots -whose main craft is directly piloting- would want to even try doing that when given a choice!?"

"I had to. do it, so I did. I couldn't. couldn't make a mistake."

"This makes absolutely no sense."

Pauline interrupted. "She just works like that. Lots of stress and when people freeze up, humans with her condition... sometimes, surprisingly, function better in the moment than others can."

"Ah. So it's a human thing. of course, it's a human thing. NOTHING MAKES ANY SENSE WITH YOUR ACCURSED SPECIES" the diminutive pilot pouted.

And so one more story of the humans doing the impossible spread around. Humans of a subtype, more easily harmed, sometimes unstable and needing help for the simplest things... accomplishing odd, unthinkable, borderline heroic feats under duress none could be expected to withstand - but only then. Cursed, blessed? No story-teller seemed too certain. But the "magical" species never stopped surprising all others. And a new proverb developed: "it's not over until the human says it is".

[smokestarrules]

When do you think Suletta and Miorine fell for each other, and when do you think they actually realized that they had caught feelings?

I've thought about this probably too much, and I have exact moments for you.

Miorine is easy, because it's my opinion that she's been down bad from the very start and the moments that she 1) catches feelings and 2) realizes it are one and the same.

Again, from the very start. She has zero chill (and she knows it). Miorine is a very self-aware character, I think; for all her faults, she understands her own self very well, and she isn't often confused by her own feelings on things, including and especially Suletta.

I mean... it's episode two when she gives up her escape to Earth for a girl she'd hardly known a day. Episode two.

As for Suletta...

This is when she started falling for Miorine properly, I'm positive.

Suletta is such a deeply unselfish person; she usually takes whatever she can get from people, even if that's just the bare minimum, on the basis that she isn't going to be good enough for them anyway and that any and all affection expressed towards her is precious.

So this moment, when Miorine is wholly focused on Suletta and the things Suletta loves, when Miorine is putting herself in an incredibly vulnerable spot just for her--of course it shifts something. It has to.

Suddenly, Suletta knows she matters. She's never really mattered like this before--or, at the very least, she wasn't aware that she did.

But I also think it takes her a little while to figure it out.

In fact, I think it takes almost losing the connection between them for Suletta to realize just how much Miorine matters to her, and in the end, this scene is very similar to the other. Miorine declaring her vulnerability in a situation that has arisen purely because she cares about Suletta.

The creation of GUND-ARM was incredibly meaningful to Suletta for a lot of reasons, but this scene is reaffirming that moment in a powerful way; Miorine is saying I haven't changed my mind, is saying You still matter and always will.

And Suletta needs that, maybe more than anything else.

[seekinghelp-adhd]

Chance Encounters (Maribat idea I'm throwing around)

Marinette moves to Gotham to pursue fashion. She has to finish her last year of high school at Gotham Academy and do an internship over the summer, but if she does she gets a massive scholarship to Gotham University. They were more than happy to help out Jagged Stone's famously young personal designer. Obviously, this puts her in classes with Damien Wayne, who barely talks and only ever calls his brothers by their last names.

Jagged insists on setting her up in a penthouse for her stay in Gotham, but Marinette argues that being a single girl living in a fancy penthouse is like asking one of the Gotham rogues to kidnap or rob her. They compromise on a nice apartment with a state of the art security system, one owned by Wayne Enterprises. Another tenant on her same floor, Jason Todd, stops by to scope out the new neighbor. He seems nice enough, but he keeps calling his older brother "Dick" and Marinette can't tell if that's his name or just an insult. Apparently he does this whenever someone new moves in to see if he’ll have to move. Marinette tells him to let her know if he does, Because she says if he doesn’t feel safe living in this building anymore, she definitely wants to leave. Jason is amused by this and decides she can stay.

It doesn't take long for Marinette to encounter Gotham's bad side. After a few months of living there she's seen plenty of rogue attacks. She's been lucky enough to stay out of it. After all, if the villains aren't magical there's nothing her Miraculous Cure could do anyway. Her luck is apparently starting to run out though, because now she's being held up at knife point in an alley. She obviously takes the guy down after years of being Ladybug and calls the cops. Dick Greyson is the officer on scene. He's incredibly friendly and is super impressed that she managed to take the guy down, but Dick has seen corrupt cops take people in for self-defense if it means someone else owes them a favor. He gives her his personal cell in case anything like this ever happens again.

Through all of this, Marinette has been spending more and more time with Damien at school. Marinette is hesitant to trust all the smiles and niceties around her after Lila's manipulation and wants to truly get to know someone before she puts any trust in them. Damien is the only exception. She was warned of his reputation as the "Ice Prince" of GA before meeting him and found talking with him to be incredibly refreshing. There was absolutely nothing fake or over the top about him. He was straightforward and down to earth and Marinette found comfort in that. She decided that she trusted him on day one. Likewise, Damien finds her skeptical attitude toward the other students to be incredibly validating. Growing up in the League, everyone was always pretending, even to the other assassins. You had to act a certain way around the right people, and manipulation was the key to survival. Marinette seems to notice people trying to take advantage of her and recognize when someone just wants a favor, and he respects that. Regretfully, and to Jon's great joy, Damien finds that he thinks of her as a friend.

Word eventually gets out that Marinette is Jagged's designer. This is, of course, entirely Jagged's fault. Some good comes out of all the extra attention, though, when she learns that the co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises is a fan of hers. He makes a commission for a new suit and, upon learning of her situation, offers her a position as his families personal designer over the summer to meet her internship qualifications for GU. They set up a meeting in person for her to take measurements once her midterms are over.

When everything is going well though, something has to throw a wrench into things. The Batfamily raids one of Black Mask's warehouses late one night, and Red Hood takes a few too many bullets and a pretty big hit to the head. The kevlar took most of the hits for him, but he's badly bruised and nursing a concussion. It's the concussion that causes him to stumble into the wrong window of his apartment building and scare his new neighbor half to death. Marinette does what she always does and helps the vigilante without question. To do that though, she has to take off his helmet. She assumed he would have a mask underneath or something. He does not. Marinette is not as surprised as she probably should be, and Jason is pissed when he wakes up. He realizes after a while that this isn't her fault. She's been taking care of him since he was too stubborn to go to Bruce, and if she wanted him or his family dead she could have done something about it by now. He decides to put a little trust in her, but keeps an eye on her just in case. This is what clues him into the situation. In her time here in Gotham, she's managed to meet all of the Wayne brothers aside from Duke, and she has no idea they're even related.

Jason, of course, finds this absolutely hilarious and wants to see just how far this madness can go. He sends Duke to her favorite coffee shop. He refers Marinette to the same dance studio as Cass. Marinette, completely on her own to Jason's disbelief, enters the same Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament as Stephanie and absolutely destroys her. Jason lives for the chaos and Marinette is completely oblivious.

Eventually, after a few AO3 tags (slow burn, feelings realization) Marinette and Damien start dating. Damien feels guilty for hiding that he's Robin from Marinette, but he knows that he'd be sharing more than just his own secret and doesn't want to betray his family's trust. He realizes that if he wants to share everything with her, his family has to trust her as well. She'll have to meet them. He tells Marinette all of this, and she shares that she's been keeping her own secret as well. Marinette hasn't told him about Ladybug even after Tikki has given her blessing, and she's been feeling guilty about it as well. She encourages him to tell her whenever he feels ready and assures him that she can wait until then. She trusts him, and she asks for that same trust in return.

Damien trusts her of course, and everything goes back to normal for about 30 seconds. Then, Damien starts trying to prepare her for the chaos she's about to find in his dining room that night. Little by little, Marinette starts to realize that she already knows every single person he's talking about. Only, that means so much more than she could have realized, because if Jason is Red Hood and his brother "the Dick" is Nightwing, then that means Dick Greyson is Nightwing and Damien's older brother, which makes Damien Robin, and oh no she thinks she knows exactly what that secret is that he didn't want to share yet.

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears A Suit

part Ⅰ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder. Hot devil's son. Sexual harassment? Michael Langdon.

Summary: Y/N is a purple at Outpost 3 and gets interviewed by Mr. Langdon.

A/N: I will go to hell for this and I am not opposing if he will be there too.

After 18 months at the underground Outpost life was as dreadful as being killed by a bomb explosion. Or worse. A bunch of snobs and shallow cowards. It was clear as day, that it was just a matter of time before everyone was at each other's throats. 

It wasn’t the Outpost itself or the fact that we are the last human beings on this planet that made everything so depressing. It was boredom. A hole in my head. The only bearable person here was Mr. Gallant. Without his company at the dining table, I could have stuck a fork into my neck.

That evening Ms. Venable announced to us about a visitor. The agent of the Cooperative. Even though she remained calm as usual I sensed a note of fear in her voice. So it means this new man has great authority. I was grateful for any kind of entertainment, even if it meant a bloody revolution. After 18 months with the same people, fresh meat is always dainty.

Ms. Venable ended her speech when a tall man with long blond hair entered the room. He had a dark aura. The aura of power.

“My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative,” he said, circling our table. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

I glanced at the other residents of the Outpost. They all looked tense and nervous, especially Ms. Venable. She seemed almost afraid of him. Only Mr. Gallant seemed as amused as me. We glanced at each other and I immediately understood what was on his mind. After all, he had a good taste in men.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His speech was persuasive, words sharp and his blue eyes pierced into all of us. Such an ability to capture everyone's attention was making me delighted.

He stopped at the head of the table and continued. “The three other compounds have been overrun and destroyed.”

“What happened to the people inside?” asked Timothy worried. 

“Massacred,” answered Langdon and I think I caught the shadow of a grin on his face.

I bit my lip to stop myself from chuckling. I had to admit, this Langdon was a very attractive man. And Mr. Gallant was obviously admiring his appearance too. But there was something about The Cooperative representative that made me feel uneasy. It was as if he was hiding something. Something very bad. 

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe… The Sanctuary,” he said, placing his hands behind his back. “I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call ‘Cooperating’. Simply, I will determine if you belong.”

I remained silent, analyzing the situation. Everyone seemed wary and looked at others with distrust. Only Coco didn’t have enough brains to remain silent and tried to openly express her dissatisfaction. Fortunately, her tirade was abruptly suppressed.

“I volunteer to go first.” Mr. Gallant raised his hand. 

“And so you shall,” Langdon said threateningly, looking us over. He had a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I had a feeling that he already knew who he was going to select.

“The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won’t be kept in suspense forever. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” I felt his gaze on me and barely restrained myself from looking away. 

Langdon left the room and everyone immediately started to argue. A bunch of morons, all of them. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, observing the conversation. Everyone began to share their suspicions and guesses, but of course, they were all too wrapped up in their own fear to notice the whole thing. The Cooperative looked at us as laboratory rats and no one seemed to see that. Pathetic. 

I let out a sigh of annoyance and left the room.

                                                      ✦✦✦

I ran into Malcolm in the hallway an hour later and looked at him questioningly. 

“Oh, darling, I almost had a heart attack." He came closer and started whispering "I'm a bit scared of him. He is definitely hot as hell, but twice as evil."

I chuckled. "Well, that's quite a review. Did he tell you anything new?"  

Mr. Gallant leaned even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He asked me a lot of personal questions...I mean really personal."  

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

“Like my sexuality for example. And my nana. And other… things. Pretty intimate. I felt so uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it cool.” 

My eyebrows furrowed in interest. So these "Cooperating" sessions were, indeed, quite unique. It seemed like Langdon wanted to know every minuscule detail about each person. I began to wonder what kind of "personal" questions he would ask me. I also began to wonder why I was so looking forward to the moment. 

“I felt like he was trying to rip out my soul.” Added Malcolm in a whisper.

I smirked. "Well, that's quite a dramatic way to describe it." Malcolm chuckled nervously but I had a feeling that he wasn't exaggerating. Langdon was certainly not the type of man that you could fool easily. He could see right through people.

But something was intriguing. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of uncovering the depth of Langdon's scrutiny. 

 "I guess I'll have to brace myself for my turn then," I said nonchalantly.

“Good luck sweetheart.” We kissed each other on the cheek and went in different directions.

I slowly walked to my quarters, lost in thought. I was feeling an inexplicable mixture of excitement and curiosity. The thought of being examined by Langdon, being exposed under the watchful gaze of his sharp eyes, was somehow appealing. God, I have to stop.

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss these thoughts. "This is ridiculous," I mumbled to myself softly.

Suddenly I heard something. Something like a scream perhaps. I stopped and looked around. There was no one except me in this dimly lit hall. And then this sound again. More like a whisper now. Millions of whispers. My head began to spin slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Silence. Everything went quiet. I turned around and flinched as I saw Langdon behind me.

“Mrs. Y/S, I’d like to talk with you next.” 

I looked up at Langdon with a surprised expression, silently cursing myself for being so lost in my thoughts to the point of not noticing him coming closer. His presence was so powerful that it still made my heart flutter even now.

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. 

Langdon didn't bother answering, simply gesturing for me to follow him. I walked behind him through the maze of halls and rooms. 

We finally reached the entrance to what appeared to be his cabinet. Langdon stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Entering the room, I noticed how dark and ominous it felt. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with old leather-bound volumes. The main source of light was a fireplace.

Langdon gestured for me to sit down on the armchair across from him. I lowered myself gently, straightening my purple dress. 

He studied me, wanted me to be nervous, wanted me to crack. I knew this game. I have played this game with many different powerful men, who think they are Gods because they have dicks. I never lose in a game like this.

His eyes searched my face, trying to find any sign of weakness. But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.

I leaned back in my seat, a small smirk on my lips. "I see you're expecting me to be quivering in my boots," I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Langdon chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. 

A silence fell between us, and I held his gaze without flinching. Something about his demeanor made my heart beat a little faster, but I was determined not to show it.

“I prefer conversations to be effective, Mr. Langdon.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my remark, a smirk forming his lips. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Straight to the point, are we?" 

He studied me for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Well, I can appreciate a straightforward woman," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "It makes the process much more efficient."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never faltering. "Ms. Y/S," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a sinful whisper. "Allow me to ask you a personal question."

“Ask,” I replied.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes were laser-focused on me, and I could practically feel his gaze trying to pierce through my soul. 

"What do you fear the most?" he asked, his tone almost gentle.

I was caught off guard by the question and made a mistake. Langdon noticed the slight flicker of surprise in my eyes. He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may have mastered the art of bravado, but everyone has a weakness," he continued. "And I'm here to find yours." 

I watched him back and after crossing my legs answered "I fear being surrounded by idiots for the rest of my life." I needled.

Langdon raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, don't you?", he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

He leaned back in his seat, studying me closely. "Being trapped in a group of lesser minds for eternity may be torturous, especially for a woman of your... intelligence."

“For a man of your power, it’s a pity that you use flattery as a term of manipulation,” I said, tilting my head in a mocking manner. 

Langdon chuckled, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Ah, so observant," he said, still maintaining his smirk. 

He leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not just using flattery, Ms. Y/S. I do recognize your intellect. But don't mistake my compliments for manipulation. I simply use the tools at my disposal."

“Huh.”

Langdon chuckled again, clearly appreciating my dry response. "You have a sharp tongue," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It may be your unique feature or a pathetic attempt to hide your fear.”

I could feel a flicker of irritation at his words, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Langdon was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "Or perhaps you're simply not used to people who don't cower easily in front of someone higher in rank."

He stood up from his seat and started circling me slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the room. “Be careful, Ms. Y/S. Your bold attitude is admirable, but at some point, this can play a cruel joke on you.”  His gaze burned into me as he studied me from every possible angle.

“I appreciate the warning,” I said coldly. “I don't fear intimidation tactics.”

“You are a brave woman.” Langdon's voice was suddenly close behind me, his breath lingering on the nape of my neck. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I had to suppress the urge to turn around and look at him.

“A little too brave, some would say.” he continued, his words almost a whisper. “Tell me, Ms. Y/S, is it hard to be the smartest in the room? To be forced to communicate with idiots?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made me nauseous. But I still refused to let him see any sign of weakness. I sat up straighter in my chair, lifting my chin.

“It can be... annoying at times,” I admitted.

“It is irritating how arrogant the upper class is, isn’t it? Especially toward women.” I felt the touch of his fingers on my arm and I barely restrained myself from snatching my hand away. “The world before the bombs wasn’t that much brighter than this one, was it? They all mistreated you, and never took you seriously… Does the idea of them having everything infuriate you?”

His words hit a nerve, the subtle truth in them cutting through my defenses. Yes, the world before the bombings was far from perfect, and I had my fair share of disappointments.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had managed to hit a weak spot. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what makes you think you're any different from them?”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing along my skin, tracing patterns against the fabric of my dress. His nonchalant arrogance was both infuriating and strangely enthralling. 

“Oh, I never claimed to be any different," he responded, his voice low and husky. “But I will say this - I appreciate intelligence, especially in women. I can see your potential.”

“Potential,” I repeated, struggling to keep my tone even. “For what, exactly?”

Langdon ignored my question. His hands, now both on my arms, crawled up to my shoulders. “Have you ever thought about punishing them? About finally showing what you are capable of, so they would never think you are only ‘pretty face’ again?” His breath tickled my ear. “Have you ever thought about making them scared of you?”

His hands on my shoulders were deceptively gentle, yet they seemed to burn against my skin through the fabric of my dress. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered his words, making my breath hitch in my throat. 

I felt a strange mixture of anger and... excitement at his words. The thought had crossed my mind more than once if I was being honest with myself. To show them ALL how strong and brilliant I truly was. To shuffle a knife into someone’s throat. I remained silent. 

“I sense this force in you, Y/N.”

His voice seemed to fill the space between us, wrapping around me like a dark, intimate spell. He leaned closer, his chest almost pressed against my back. His hands remained on my shoulders, his fingers gently massaging my tense muscles. 

There was something about his voice, the way he said my name, that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through me, past the cool exterior I had been trying to maintain. He knew about the anger, the desire, the fire burning within me.

“I can tell you have a dark side,” he murmured, his voice deep and low. 

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Yes, you do.” His hands continue to stroke my shoulders gently. He was amused by my denial.

“You don't have to play coy with me, Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I can feel it radiating off of you. That simmering anger, that burning desire."

Langdon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You want... power. And I can promise you that.”

His words were a seductive murmur, weaving their way into my mind and planting thoughts of power and revenge. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push, what desires to awaken within me. 

"Power," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was swimming, both alarmed and intrigued by his proposal. I felt like I was hypnotized. "Why… What’s the point?"

Langdon chuckled softly, noticing the effect his words were having on me. He stepped away from me, his hands finally leaving my shoulders. He walked around the chair, standing in front of me again.

"Because, my dear," he began, "I've observed your potential. Your intelligence, your resourcefulness, your strength. You're not like the other people in this house. You have ambition. And ambition can lead to power."

He tilted up my chin gently, so I could meet his gaze. "And I can help you achieve it." His thumb traced my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his finger brushed against my bottom lip I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He smirked and leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from mine.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Did my touch... unsettle you?”

With a swift, almost graceful movement, Langdon sank to his knees in front of me. His hand found its way to my knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress.

“I think the interview is over,” I said, trying to stand up, but he pressed on my knee, not letting me get up.

“I will decide if it’s over or not, Ms. Y/S,” Langdon smirked at my silence, slowly running his hand higher up my thigh. He could clearly see the effect he was having on me, the slight tremble in my body.

“What?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “No witty comeback? No clever quip? Seems like you're losing your grip.”

"Losing my grip?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hardly. I am just amused by your behavior." Even a blind person would see my bluff and feign confidence.

“Oh? Really?” He stood up a bit, leaning closer to my face, almost whispering in my mouth. His proximity was intoxicating, his breath hot against my lips. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, the desire coursing through my veins like a current. He slowly brushed his lips against mine and I felt a touch of his tongue on my bottom lip. 

It felt like drugs. It felt better than drugs. His tongue teasingly tracing along my bottom lip sent a shiver down my spine, making my legs tremble beneath me. It was overwhelming. I have never felt like this before. In that very second I could do anything for this man.

Suddenly he stopped and looked me right into my eyes, smirking satisfiedly almost like he read a thought that just got in my mind.

He stood up, turning away from me and I bit my tongue not to moan in disappointment. 

“We’re done for today, Ms. Y/S. It was a pleasure talking to you,” He said, opening the door for me. Smirk remained on his face, but Langdon seemed very calm. As if he didn’t just kneel and almost kiss me two minutes ago. 

I needed a few seconds to understand what had happened, so I blinked and then quickly stood up walking toward the door.

“Hope you have a good night, Ms. Y/S,” he said watching me and I can swear, as he was saying that, his hand slid to cover his groin and he definitely wanted me to notice that. 

“Good night, Mr. Langdon,” I mumbled and left the room. 

What the fuck has just happened?

part two

[halogenwarrior]

All of the Animorphs main characters’ stories are very influenced by the dissonance between how they are perceived by the others from their perspectives, and the resulting roles they are fit into vs. their actual complexity, and I think it’s worth talking about Rachel from that perspective for a bit. The read the others tend to have on her character is that she’s ambitious; this incredibly confident, driven person who is dissatisfied with a normal life and just waiting for something better, which the war gives her. Cassie explicitly narrates as much in Megamorphs #4, while Jake says in #22 that she’s found her purpose in the war and he doesn’t know what she would do with a normal life anymore. Though I can’t remember the exact passages, I think the others think similar things of her. But when you actually look into Rachel’s character, you find that what they are misinterpreting as ambition/dissatisfaction with normal life/a desire to change the world and be a hero is actually two separate traits that, when put together in the same person, look a lot like that but aren’t.

First is that she fundamentally is a compassionate, morally dutiful person who feels she has an obligation to sacrifice and avoid the easy route to be good to other people. She doesn’t seek out situations where she will be responsible for many people’s well-being, but once she is there she goes all-in on it. When you compare situations in the book where one of the main characters has made an effort to be kind and do the right thing on a personal level rather than a “well if we save everyone on Earth from being enslaved that helps people by definition” level, she’s really only behind Cassie on this – feeling guilty about letting down Melissa as a friend and then risking her life on a mission to go out of the way to comfort her about her parents in #2, or in #1 when she says she cares about Tobias when he thinks nobody cares about him, even though they barely know each other. 

In comparison, the most Jake has is a vague idea that his goal in life should be to live an average life and “not be a jerk” without any real self-examination of how to do that, Marco is often rude on an interpersonal level and doesn’t seem to care much about being a good friend or giving kindness to someone who needs it, Tobias is more of a loner who is very morally passionate about the greater cause but doesn’t extend it to really being there for other people (this isn’t because he is inherently cruel so much as, when we first are introduced to him, he is barely getting by in life and doesn’t have the energy to try to be a kind, beneficent person on top of that, it’s only the revelation of a greater cause that gives him the motivation to care about something), and Ax, the only one who was in an official military, initially largely outsources his sense of duty to that system and its ethics and doesn’t make much of an effort to be a good person outside of that. 

I get the sense that Cassie and Rachel mutually recognize this quality in each other, and this is the reason for their friendship despite the narrative emphasizing how different they are and how weird it is that they are friends. As mentioned above, Cassie does interpret her as ambitious and “waiting for something else in life”, but she still sees that ambition as being prompted by a kindness and unshakeable desire to do good, as someone who doesn’t fall into the “mean popular kid stereotype” despite her looks and confidence. Meanwhile Rachel, when we see her thoughts about Cassie, similarly appreciates Cassie’s interpersonal kindness and steely resolve to enact it. Each recognizes, despite their many differences, the moral and aspirational idea they aim for in life in each other. Rachel’s manifestation of this trait looks different than Cassie’s. 

The second quality is that Rachel loves, in the moment, the rush of being confident and powerful. It’s something she gets in shopping for clothing and being able to pick out the right deals like a successful predator, and it’s also something she gets in war, in the heat of battle and crushing the enemy. It’s not about adulation (#3 notes with her gymnastics performances that she hates performing in front of a crowd), just the personal feeling of power. The others aren’t wrong that she enjoys battle in a terrifying way they do not, but it’s ultimately driven by a feeling in the moment, not an inborn sense that life is purposeless that leads to seeking out war in the long term. 

These two qualities combine to form a dynamic, a vicious cycle, with the rest of the group. When Rachel encounters something in life she believes is her duty to be a good person and help others, even though she doesn’t seek out such situations to feel special, she throws herself into it wholeheartedly (like as soon as she realizes she’s in a war now, in #4 I believe she changes all the inspirational quotations in her room to things like the Art of War). Combined with her general confidence, this leads to her throwing herself into danger bravely, which the others admire her for, and come to really need her in the role to give them the inspiration to risk their lives and untold horrors, which makes her play even harder into it to fulfill their need (even if she feels it is just a persona, as in #7 with her being “not brave, just blind”). This gets to the point where they, particularly Jake whose job it is to lead, use the others for their roles, and encourage them to keep those necessary roles, will outright discourage her from being anything else or showing any nuance or vulnerability (wee see this in #7 and #27). But the more she throws herself into danger and plays up her fearlessness and love of the fight, the more it triggers her love for the thrill and feeling of power of it which she recognizes is making her into her worst, cruelest version of herself. And the tragedy of it is that normally if she was recognizing she was a bad person in some way, she would stop everything to rectify that (like in #2 when she realizes she hasn’t been there for Melissa and immediately pivots to go as far as to risk torture and death to be there for her). But it’s precisely her commitment to goodness and duty that means she can’t this time, even if she knows the path is turning her into a monster, her friends and humanity as a whole still need her like this.  She is the type of character whose greatest strength is her downfall. This is particularly symbolized with her relationship with Tobias, who due to being a hawk is entirely enveloped in the Animorph life and can’t live “normally”. Every time Rachel goes out of her way to be there for him, she’s separating herself from the life she would want and reinforcing her worst impulses, and sometimes her narration expresses frustration with this, but she can’t turn away because he still needs her. 

And the others, even as they (particularly Jake) are parties to cajoling her into her role… as mentioned before, they don’t quite pick up on this. They mistake the long-term duty to do what’s right even if she absolutely doesn’t want it combined with the short-term thrill once she puts herself into a violent situation as one trait, a pride and ambition to be something greater than her normal life for the sake of glory. And while that combination of traits can look very similar (i.e her identification with hubristic classical heroes in #37), it’s fundamentally not the same, she expresses many times that she wants a normal life in the long term even if she enjoys fighting in the moment. She’s not constantly thinking about changing the world for the better unless the situation forces her into it (look at how she cares so little about politics that she doesn’t even know who her state’s governor is in #51, despite Marco expecting that she absolutely does and will chew him out for not knowing!) In fact, the whole point of #32 is that these are two separate traits, and when they aren’t put together she isn’t capable of the driven nature she normally exhibits, This misunderstanding leads to the others thinking she fully and uncomplicatedly wants all of this. 

It also leads to them underrating her compassion, often acting surprised or disbelieving when she shows it even when it’s not actually all that uncommon. For example, her statement that she cares for Tobias in #1 being followed by Jake’s narration saying that this is unusual for her. There’s also one quote about this I particularly like in #25, near the end when the Venber are killed. Marco’s narration goes  ‘ “Rest in peace”, someone said. It turned out to be Rachel ‘. It’s just one little line, but I find it fascinating how, even though the narrator Marco is attributing the rest of the dialogue completely normally, the idea that Rachel is capable of this solemn compassion is so against the image he has of her in her mind that he isn’t initially able to realize who said this, and that is really telling to Rachel’s dynamic with the rest of the group and how they view her.

Cassie and Rachel’s types of compassion are not the same, and that’s part of why the latter’s isn’t recognizes. Cassie is not just kind but diplomatic and able to keep calm in interpersonal situations, emphatic about the things she cares for most but willing to humble herself to get others on the same page. Rachel, on the other hand, comes from a place of confidence, willing to care but not to bend for others, and also a lot of anger deriving from that duty and compassion – towards those who harm others, like the Yeerks, for example, like in #38 when, realizing the Andalites aren’t coming and there’s no hope, she wants to at least take as many Yeerks down with her as she can and avenge humanity. Cassie, meanwhile, doesn’t let this passion for morality and justice lead her to revenge and instead goes in the opposite direction, seeing no point in killing if there can’t be a direct benefit of saving someone from it. And Rachel can just be plain angry and grumpy for reasons that aren’t about noble compassion, like when she is physically hurt (like #11 when she goes on a rant about the rainforest due to almost being eaten alive by ants). And most ironically, her anger and bitterness grows precisely when she is put in a trap where she can’t be a good person no matter what she chooses, where leaving makes her be uncaring and not doing her duty but staying will gradually turn her into a monster. This can be seen in #27 where her frustration at having to turn down T.T, both for himself and the normal life and escape from her darkest impulses he represents, because she owes it to Tobias, leads to her snapping at him and rejecting him in an especially cruel way, even though internally she feels compassion for him and doesn’t believe what she says. 

And that’s really the core of Rachel’s nightmares and breakdown in #48, and the rage and defiance she feels at Jake in her dreams. It’s not just the surface level of paranoia that her friends see her as a villain and hate her and anger at being controlled when she runs wild. It’s rage at being used as a soldier to fulfill a role, being outright criticized and belittled when she is anything else, and doing so willingly because it’s the right thing to do, only for them to turn around and hate her for the very thing they wanted from her and see her as the ”bad guy of the group” for whom they can separate out all of their criticism of the dirty and immoral parts of war while never questioning their own role in it. It’s a rage she can’t let herself express in waking life because she knows her duty is to follow Jake, but she can definitely have subliminally in a way that shows up in her dreams. And it’s also a fear that whatever her excuses, whatever her intentions, it doesn’t matter because she really is a monster, she really is morally worse than the others, and it’s just pathetic to insist otherwise.

This particularly hurts her with regards to her relationship to Cassie. The thrust of their arc is that, as I said earlier, they start out despite their differences, recognizing the same kindness and unflinching moral conviction in each other as in themselves, but that same conviction leads them on entirely opposite paths. In #19 Rachel expresses frustration with Cassie quitting the team because it shows her worst fear is becoming like Rachel herself – how can Cassie care so much more about feeling for her own sake like she’s a good person than actually doing good in the world, when Rachel would very much want to do the same but is making a huge sacrifice not to, and then look at Rachel like there never was a similarity between them, Cassie was always the only good person and Rachel is revolting? In #48 she keeps telling herself it’s just paranoia, just a dream, just reading too much into it and her friends don’t really hate her, but then in #52 Cassie snapping at her, in Rachel’s mind, shows her worst fears to be true. And I think it’s one of the underrated tragic moments of the series how, when we see Rachel’s perspective facing her death at the beginning of #54, she believes only Tobias will object to Jake sacrificing her because he cares about Rachel. Cassie, she believes, will only be upset because of the emotional impact it will have on Jake having to make such a hard decision. We as readers know this isn’t true; in #53 Cassie’s reaction to finding out what is happening is to be furious at Jake and upset purely about Rachel, and when we see her point of view in #54 she is very much grieving for her. But since Rachel’s last interaction with Cassie was her telling her she’s a horrible person and confirming her fears, that’s what she believes, and Cassie never had a chance to tell her otherwise. Never knowing that the best friend she ever had still cared, had never truly written her off as a lost cause.

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force • ch 3

Chapter 3 - DARK PREMONITION 

Jake x female reader

Words: 14.1k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

*It's been over a month, and I'm so sorry. Life has been happening fast. Thank you for sticking with me through this one, I hope you're enjoying where this story is going!

Warnings: Dystopian Horror, Cursing, Crying, Suspense, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Violence (& mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Mentions of Forced Beatings, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Lying, Attacks, Deceit, Panic, Mental Anguish

Y/N

Three days, we’ve been in here. Three days since we were all blindfolded and made to sit in the metal-walled room, cold and terrified and confused. Three days since Paps and I had tried to make a run for it, and ended up almost crashing the truck into those black, shadowy creatures.

And three days since I had sat face to face with Jake Kiszka.

They’ve barely let us sleep, let alone see the light of day. On that first night, they’d drug us into a long room lined with cots, not even saying a word to us as we all just assumed we were to lay down and sleep. Luckily I’d found Paps and we were able to get cots beside one another, but the fact that he was able to be close to me still didn’t ease any of the deep, unsettling feelings in my gut about what the hell is going on. 

Paps and I had managed to talk to a few of the other people in the group, and just like us, they were kidnapped by strange, shadowed creatures, too. Everyone described it the same way, like it was out of a horror film. They looked human, sort of, but they didn’t feel it. They were cloaked in hooded robes, and none of us ever saw their faces. They had an aura I couldn’t explain, like they had one foot on earth with us, and one foot somewhere else completely. 

My intuition told me that since they felt so terrifyingly separate from breathing in the same air as me, that maybe they really weren’t of this earth. Fucking outrageous, I thought to myself, but, was it? Honestly, these days, nothing is surprising. 

The men that surround us constantly are dressed in black and armed to their teeth, and they remind me of those scary looking “military” men you’d see on video games, with their night-vision glasses and helmets strapped tightly under their chins. They’re quiet, but they use force at every given chance. I know underneath all of the garb, they’re just men. 

And still yet, I hate them.

They have all of us pushed into this singular room and forced to pretend that everything is normal. I want to scream at them, beg them for answers, be the one who finally lashes out for the rest of the group, but I hold back. I admit, their guns do scare me. 

“Y/N, is that… Jake, over there?” Paps asks me as we sit facing one another on our cots, each of us wrapped in the thin gray blankets they’d supplied us with. “The one that played guitar, right?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah, it is him, Paps. Crazy, right? I can’t even wrap my head around all of this…” The situation we’re in is one that I truly would have never even dreamt up. I find myself thinking I’m crazy, dreaming… or living inside some type of wild mental break from the terror of realizing the world is ending. I feel like I could go to sleep and wake up in my own bed, in my own little cottage back in Cheatham county, and all of this would be a strange and unfond memory. But what little sleep I have gotten the past couple of days has given me no rest at all, only adding to my awful mental state.

“How did he get here, too? I mean, I guess fame doesn’t matter during the apocalypse, but…” Paps is having a hard time understanding, too. I glance over to Jake, seeing him sitting cross-legged on his cot, staring at the floor below him as he’s wrapped in his blanket just as we are. The wounds on his face look better than they did three days ago, but I can still see the scratches and bruises.

A year ago, I’d be starstruck, shaking and giddy with nerves from being in such close quarters with one of my idols. But now, here, we’re on level playing field. We’re all lost and confused, hungry, and terrified. Hostages who can’t decide on our next move. 

“You should go and talk to him,” Paps suggests, his voice gritty. 

“NO!” I almost yell. “I mean, no, I… wouldn’t even know what to say…” I reply, my eyes jumping between Jake and Paps. 

“What do you mean?!” Paps says. 

“I… I don’t know, I mean. The other day when they were taking our blindfolds off, I showed him my tattoos. He recognized them, and he shook his head, telling me no, told me to stay quiet. I dunno, the look in his eye was threatening, like he didn’t–I don’t know. Like he didn’t want to even be associated with me,” I explain to Paps quietly as one of the guards passes by us. 

“What can he even say though, sweetheart? None of us know what is going on, maybe he has some clue? Maybe you could talk to him, he looks…”

It’s true, Jake looks more downtrodden than all of us. He always carried himself with just the right mix of confidence and humbleness, catching the eye of every single person he passed, but now it looks like the weight of the world is literally on his shoulders. He hasn’t spoken to a soul. Has hardly moved from his cot except to visit the one-stall bathroom at the end of the room. I’ll admit, I do feel bad for him, and I have thought about going and speaking to him again, but… the way he looked at me the other day…

“Just go, honey. We’re all just people, here…” Paps urges, reaching his arm out to push my shoulder in Jake’s direction. 

I take a quick deep breath, centering myself as I work up the confidence. This is so strange. I stand up and wrap my arms in the blanket, letting my feet carry me across the cold tile floor. 

I slowly walk to him, approaching him gently, not wanting to startle him from his gaze straight down into the floor. I crane my neck a bit, willing him to look at me. “Jake?” my voice is raspy. 

His eyes, those eyes I stared into for so many years as I watched him on stage, watched him in interviews, watched him fall in love with his instrument over and over again… the warm chocolate brown they used to be are now a sullen, deep black, and I know immediately that the life they once held has started to quickly fade to something else. 

They shoot to look back at me. Fast, while he recognizes me, then back down to the floor. He stirs on his seat. “You shouldn’t speak to me,” he mumbles, and I feel my heart shatter. He’s uneasy again, just like when he saw my tattoos. 

“I—I won’t bother you, if that’s what you want, I… I noticed you haven’t spoken much to everyone else and I just wanted to say hello, not as a, you know… but as a fellow capturee.” 

I don’t even know what I’m saying. Capturee? I’m blabbering. I’m starstruck! Yes, even still in this dark room during the apocalypse I am still…starstruck by him. Captured by his fucking presence, just like I always thought I would be if I ever got the chance to meet him. 

He bites his lips quickly as he avoids me. My hands clench together underneath my blanket, and I realize that what I’d actually said wasn’t that bad, I am truly just trying to reach out. 

After a few seconds, he taps the cot in front of him, inviting me to sit. Though it seems he doesn’t really want me to, I still believe he’s too sweet to turn someone away when they speak to him. 

So I gently sit where his hand was, swallowing hard as my heart rate flies. And within seconds, I’m face to face with him again. But this time, I’m so close, I can see everything that all those photographers over the years just couldn’t capture. He is so fucking…

“I said you shouldn’t speak to me, not that I don’t want to speak back,” he says, gritting out his words as his eyes dart around. 

“I—I’m sorry, I guess I don’t understand—“

Suddenly he grabs my arm in his hand, gripping it from underneath the blanket I hug around myself. He pulls my sleeve back, and quickly takes account of all of my tattoos I’d shown him just two days prior. I let him, his grip fast and sloppy, and I can just barely feel the rough callouses still left behind on his fingertips from all the years of playing his guitar. My stomach falls. 

My arm is resting palm up in his hand as he gazes on it, and I can see his back rise and fall a few times as he takes deep breaths. Then, as quickly as he’d gripped it, he pushes it back to me. I’m speechless. 

“What’s your name?” he whispers, his eyes bouncing to the guards. 

“Y/N,” I reply. 

“You followed us? Back then?”

I nod, “Yeah, I did. Since uh, since Strange Horizons, up until…”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking his head just a little. I’m off-put by his attitude, and I begin to wonder if he really isn’t as sweet as he’d put on all those years. 

“So it’s safe to assume you’re well-versed with everything we ever made…” he asks, rubbing his hands over his face as the blanket sits over his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’d say I am…I mean, I was one of those people that did the ‘deep-diving’, I’m sure you knew about all that,” I stumble out. 

He nods as he winces at me. A guard walks behind me, and I watch as Jake tenses in his presence, avoiding looking at him, too. 

“Yeah, we knew about that.” His words are clipped, and I’m able to tell, now, that maybe he really doesn’t want to talk to me, even though he invited me to sit on his cot with him. 

“Um, it was…a lot of fun, figuring it all out…when you guys would release something new my friends and I would research and memorize and try and put all the pieces together for the world you’d built. Try to connect the dots, match things up from previous albums and try to project what was going to happen next. I can’t tell you how many theories there were—“

“God…” He scoffs again, rolling his eyes as he leans his head back, huffing an exasperated exhale. The fuck is his problem? He’s kind of starting to piss me off… I didn’t have to come over here and speak…

So I stop where I am, giving him the same sarcastic-ass look he’d just given me, and I begin to stand. “Alright, well it was nice meeting you.”

“No, wait…” his hand is on my elbow. “Sorry, you don’t have to…”

I pause, giving him a questioning look that tells him I don’t feel like my presence is welcome. 

“Please, sit back down,” he says, releasing his touch. I slowly do, wrapping my arms more tightly around myself to match his distant energy. I watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he thinks about what to say next. I’ve never seen him anxious, before. I’m the one that should be anxious. 

“How did they get you?” he asks quietly, this time finally looking me in the eye as he leans in a little closer. 

I push my knotted, unwashed hair behind my ear. “Well, my Paps and I were the only two of my family left, everyone else passed from the rash.” I point my eyes over Jake’s shoulder toward Paps, and he turns to look at him. “We got ahold of someone’s truck, and were heading back toward the city when we ran into these…things….” I try to think back on that experience, really feeling embarrassed that I am about to admit to Jake fucking Kiszka that I think we were abducted by aliens or some shit. Fuck. But, I digress…

“Things?” he asks. 

“Yeah, um. They were like… really tall, shadowy, men? I don’t know, they didn’t feel um. They didn’t feel human, when they captured us. I know that sounds crazy…” I try and awkwardly explain. But, it’s the truth. 

He cocks his head. “They didn’t feel human?”

“No, they felt almost, otherworldly. Like they were only halfway here,” I shake my head, trying to make myself sound like I know I’m crazy. “I dunno.”

But the look he returns to me isn’t what I expected. He doesn’t look at me like I’m insane. He looks at me like he just understood it. Just understood it all. 

“Fuck…” he mutters through his lips, his eyes wide with realization.

“What?” I press. “How about you? Where um, where is everybody else?”

He breaks away from his surprised stare. “I don’t know. Got separated. We were all staying up at some cabins back in Michigan, they came in the middle of the night. We all tried to fight them off, but it was no use. I woke up in the back of a truck, then again in a room like they had us held in when we were blindfolded,” he explains.

I won’t lie, I’m fucking enamored with the way he’s speaking to me right now, even with the heavy subject. I can’t help it. For years, just like every other person as deep in the fandom as I was, I spent my time being enraptured by him and the person he was. Completely taken by him, and possessing a crush unlike any other I’d ever had in my life. We all did. He’s still that man, just a little older, now. A little scruffier, a little more wrinkly. But then again, I’m showing my age, too. 

But I take his words in, picturing the scene and pretending I was there, and the fear he must have felt. How they all must have felt, being kidnapped by those things in the middle of the night.

“Your whole family was there?” I ask.

He nods. “I don’t even know who was kidnapped and who they left behind. But, it was men that took us, just like the fuckers patrolling us right now. They definitely weren’t aliens.” 

Did Jake Kiszka just fucking pick on me?

He smiles just a little bit as he watches me get offended. “I didn’t say they were aliens!” I yelp.

“Shh, shh!” he laughs, pressing his hand gently over my mouth. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly or else you’ll have the whole room freaking out.”

I bite my lips. Hard. Fuck, his hand was just on my mouth. 

I sigh. “I didn’t say they were aliens…” I whisper. “I said that they didn’t feel fucking human, okay?”

He breathes through another little laugh. “I know. I don’t doubt anything at all, these days,” he says. 

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?” I ask, just to clarify.

He takes a breath, looking behind me. “No, Y/N, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

My god, he just said my name. I have got to get my shit together. 

“Good,” I spit. “Because whatever had ahold of me wasn’t a person.”

His face goes white, and I watch his wheels spin. I can tell he believes me and my outlandish description. 

“Everyone up! Single file through the double doors! And stay quiet!” We’re suddenly aroused by the deep voice of one of the guards commanding that we all stand and move toward the doors. They’ve only done this once before, when they fed us what you could describe as a meal of sorts, but the effort it took to choke down would suggest otherwise. My attention is immediately redirected to Paps as I watch him stand and join Jake and I in moving toward the doors. 

“Paps, this is Jake,” I introduce them, and I watch as the slightest bit of a sparkle comes into Paps’ eyes as they shake hands. “Jake, my grandfather, Don.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jake says, and his voice sounds almost normal. 

“Pleasure is mine, son. I uh, quite enjoyed watching you play over the years,” Paps says. 

Jake’s eyes brighten as they look back to me. “Is that right?!”

“I kinda made Paps into a bonafide fan, just like me. He came to a few shows,” I explain, feeling a little shy at admitting this, in this setting.

“Wow, shame we didn’t get to meet before, sir,” Jake says, with a half-smile. “Thank you for coming.”

“Silence!” one of the guards bellows, lifting his baton high in the air before letting it fall directly over Jake’s back. “You weren’t told to speak!” 

I scream out, I can’t help it. Jake falls to the ground in pain and Paps falls to his knees beside him, as they were still holding hands from the handshake. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I yell, falling alongside them as he holds the baton high into the air again, ready for another strike. “Stop!!!”

The baton falls hard onto Jake’s back again before the guard stands back up, moving away from the line and addressing the group. I hear Jake hissing in pain as Paps helps him stand back up. 

“Does anyone else have anything to say?!” the guard yells, and I wish to god I could see his face behind his mask. The group mutters a few quiet no’s. “That’s what I fucking thought! Now move!”

We are all talking, why did they just punish him for it? Paps and I help Jake to stand and follow along with the line, and I feel myself seething with rage. What in the fuck was that even for?! We can’t even speak?

“Are you okay?” I whisper quietly to him. 

“M’fine,” he says, and we nearly carry him down the long, fluorescent-light lit hallway to the next room. It’s strange being around actual electricity again, and I snarl my nose at the fact that they’ve somehow found a way to harness it after the world has suffered so long without it.

After a couple of seconds he pushes our help away and we fall into the single-file line, walking fairly quickly to the room where they fed us before. 

JAKE

They told me they were going to treat me just the same as everyone else, but I never thought they’d be physically harming me out here in front of everyone. If anything, it’s almost as if they’re singling me out instead of blending me in, which kind of defeats the purpose, if they were telling me the truth. I know two of the men on guard with us are the two that spoke with me in the dark room, but I can’t tell if they are the ones using violence against me. Fuck, nothing really makes sense. And all I want is out of this goddamned building so I can find my family.

Now, as they throw us into this room with one singular long table, we gather to eat this sorry excuse of a meal again, all in complete silence. I can’t believe she had the confidence to come and talk to me on the cot earlier after that harsh, wordless look of warning I gave her two days ago when we were unblindfolded. I thought she may have gotten my warning and caught onto my message for her to stay silent, but I guess I have been on the anti-social side of things and probably look like I’ve been hit by a truck. 

Of course I’m locked up in this place with an old fan. Of fucking course. And of course she’s tattooed with all the symbolism we wrote into our music and art over the years, making her an unknown easy fucking target for this shit, if they knew. If they find out that she has just as much knowledge about whatever kind of shit we apparently fucking predicted, then she’s just as much on the road to having that baton over her back as I am. Should I tell her what I know? But even if I did, what would it change? She can’t wipe her tattoos off just as much as I can’t change my name. 

We all sit and eat in silence, all of us eyeing one another as the rest of them look on to me with pity, after having that fucking baton across my back. They don’t know me, I don’t think. None of them, except Y/N, have given me that feeling of being known, yet. 

As I scarf down the bland potatoes and cold canned vegetables, I run over the plethora of thoughts I’ve had for the past couple of days. I scan back to the very last few minutes I had with my family, if there was any detail that I’d forgotten, if there was any inkling I’d heard or missed that could give me any clue as to where they are. But every time I dig, I come up short. 

So then I move along to the conversation I had with those two in the dark room again. All those fucking wild things they told me, making me feel like this all is truly a fucked up dream. Realms? Other worlds? The battle… and the fact that they explicitly explained to me that the ones who live between both of these “worlds” are unlike us, could be the explanation for Y/N saying the ones who captured her felt like they were only halfway here. 

Kinda solidified that for me. She said it perfectly; the ones who captured them must have been the family that exists in both places, the ones who the Two told me were out still capturing immunes. It all adds up. But now, what do I do with all of this? And where the fuck am I gonna find my family?

My heart wrenches everytime I think of them, and how Josh and Sam and Daniel must be being treated exactly the same as I am, about to be pressured for information that we didn’t even know was important outside of our little fantasy music world. All those days Daniel spent locked away in his room, finally understanding that what we’d written was coming true. All of it being tied together… fuck, he was so right. And now we’re being punished for it. Used for it. I can feel my twin’s guilt from here.

I watch as one of the older ladies in the group is forced up by her arm, being pulled into another room. And then the same with the teenage boy. I panic, wondering where they’re taking them, and if we’re all subject to go. The rest of us all glance to one another in fear for a minute or two, until I hear what sounds like rushing water. A shower. Fucking finally. 

I haven’t felt a sense of impending relief like this in weeks. I’m hoping that the water is warm, at least, and they give us a few minutes of privacy to really get the good out of it. I look over to Y/N, and instead of seeing relief on her face, too, I see fear. 

It’s then that I realize there’s the possibility of one of the guards seeing her tattoos. She doesn’t know why, but she knows that based upon my look of warning, maybe they shouldn’t be seen. Now, I’m regretting not telling her. I have to do something. 

I get her attention and place both my elbows on the table, gently pulling my sleeve down with my pointer finger as I point to where her tattoos would rest on her arm. When I’m sure she’s locked in on me, I shake my head side to side, and again I place my pointer finger across my lips. Don’t let them see it, Y/N. Her brows furrow in confusion, and I try my damndest to quietly and secretly make her understand my charade. Finally I watch as realization falls over her, as she nods in return. 

Now I have to explain myself. 

A few minutes later one of the guards pulls me up and walks me to the apparent shower room, thrusting me inside and following me in. It’s even darker in here, which I’m thankful for, and there is a small stall with an old ratted shower curtain in the corner. The rest of the room is all concrete, with a small, cracked mirror on one wall and a tall cabinet on the other. “Undress,” the guard orders as he shoves me behind the curtain. I follow his order, the pull to have fresh water pouring over me more than my want for much else, right now.

The guard stands in the room with me, with his face to the wall. A little awkward, I think to myself as I look around for a shower head. “You gonna join me, or are you just here to make sure I don’t drown?” I ask him sarcastically as I peek from behind the dirty curtain. The water begins pouring from the chrome shower head, and I feel an ecstasy that I didn’t think was even possible, anymore. The water is lukewarm, but I’ll take what I can get.

I spot an old bottle of soap in the corner and help myself, lathering myself up quickly in fear of losing time in this paradise. I wash every crevice and my hair thoroughly, making quick time to rinse so I can spend a few blissful seconds with the water plummeting on my face. “Mmm, sure is nice in here, sure you don’t want to join?” I ask again, trying to egg him on or piss him off. I hum a loud song as if I’m enjoying myself, cocky with it even though I’m terrified of getting hit on the back again. I don’t even know if it was him that did it, I can’t tell any of them apart. 

Suddenly the masked guard is standing right by my shower curtain, tall and overbearing as he can almost see overtop of the pole. “You really don’t ever shut the fuck up, do you, Kiszka?” he blurts. 

I smile. It worked. I immediately recognize his voice as one of the Two. 

I continue rinsing myself off as I try and think of what to say next. “No, everyone always called me the quiet one, until they spent more than five minutes with me. Then they couldn’t get away quick enough,” I joke. “You the one with the baton? Could fucking ease up a little next time, you really make that shit real.”

“No. Isn’t me, it’s my brother,” he answers. The Two, they’re brothers?

Actually now, the more I think about it, the three minutes I spent with them in the dark the other day felt a little familiar. Their voices did mirror one another’s, and they seemed to offset the other’s energy. I could tell that without even seeing them.

“Was that the other one in the room with us two days ago? When you were explaining–”

“Yes. Was both of us,” his answer is clipped.

It’s silent for a second as I wait for him to say something else. Just then, my warm, blissful water supply cuts off, and my skin is already begging for it to come back. I groan at the loss, and begin wringing the water from my hair. “So you gonna give me something else? Any updates? They gonna take me away in the middle of the night again and drag me to a torture chamber to get answers out of me?”

I hear him huff a distasteful breath. “Listen, man, I don’t have much more information for you right now, but just know that yeah, that could probably happen at any minute. They haven’t told us much, lately. And I doubt they torture you…” he trails off. 

I rip the shower curtain open, completely uncaring that he’s seeing me stark naked, right now. Hell, this man has shared forbidden secrets with me, and I’ve never even seen his face. Fuck it. 

“Got a towel?”

He steps to the side and whips a door to the cabinet open, pulling out a thin white towel and tossing it across my torso. “Thanks,” I mumble. He then throws another set of thick fabric at me and I catch it before it falls. A pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt, both the same ugly gray color that look like they belong in a prison laundromat. Actually, maybe at one point, they did. 

I finish drying off and get dressed, and the man stands in front of the door with his back to me again. “That girl you were talking to, do you know her?” he asks. 

“No, not really,” I respond, “why?”

He shakes his helmeted head. “Just wondering, I do know that they’re going to take that old man that she sits with and sleeps beside.”

“Take him? Why? To where?” I’m suddenly panicked with worry, and I barely just met the man.

“He’s old, man. His time is limited. I don’t know much, but I’ve heard that they do some type of experimentation on the older immunes, see how much they can use them to their own advantage before their time is up,” he explains. 

“What the fuck? Experiments?!” I try and stay quiet when all I want to do is scream. “What is this, the fucking 1900’s?”

“I dunno Jake, all I’m saying is I heard they’re going to be taking the oldest from each of the pods here in the next few days and transferring them–”

“Pods? What are pods?” Now, I’m in his face, staring directly up into the dark glasses covering his eyes. 

“Eh, nothing, I can’t–”

“You can’t what, you can’t tell me? You’ve already given me all this fucking information and now you want to stop? I thought you said if I played my cards right, you’d be my best fucking friend… I’ve been cooperative, huh? So far?” I press. “What are fucking pods?”

His head nods away as he sighs, some type of radio beeping on his side. My time in the shower must be up. “Please…” I beg. “Is my family nearby?”

He looks at me again. “Listen, I don’t know much about the other pods, but I think that they are. I thought… I thought I saw your younger brother yesterday, walking down the main hall.”

“Sam..” I breathe.

“Yeah, Sam. The guy on the bass,” he responds. “I can’t tell you truthfully, Jake. Honestly, I just caught a glimpse. I would tell you more if I could, and as I learn more, I’ll feed it to you. We’ve just gotta be fucking careful, man. The other guards here don’t fuck around, ok? They’re trusted hires. Me and my brother, they have all the reason in the world to trust us. But they shouldn’t.”

I nod as his radio beeps again, and I place my hand on his shoulder. “Listen, would you do anything for your brother? Anything in the world to see him safe, alive?” 

I hear him swallow from behind his face covering. “Yeah, uhm. Yeah, I would.”

“Then you understand what it means to me when you said you think you saw Sam, what it means that I have to find them, protect them… just like you’d do for your brother just outside this wall, right?”

“Yeah, man. Yeah, I get it. I swear, as soon as I know more, you will hear it, too. From me or him. Remember, we’re on your side. We’re breaking free of this fucking place as soon as enough immunes are gathered… and we come up with a plan,” he says honestly. 

“I’m good at plans,” I say. “I’ll help.” He turns and opens the door, and I feel the rush of cold air enter the room with us, sending a chill over my still-warm skin. “And tell your brother that my fucking back hurts from the beatings…”

He forcefully ushers me back out into the dining area to join the rest, whispering to me through grit teeth. “All part of the charade…”

—-

As I’m laying on my cot later that night, I try to think of how in the hell I’m going to relay all of this to Y/N. How I’m going to warn her that they may be planning on taking her grandfather away. How we’re being kept in something called pods, which signifies to me that we’re just in some giant building being held in small groups so as to keep gossip to a minimum, keep us unorganized, distant. How I’m going to pass along to her the notion that everything we wrote, every piece of media we created, everything she followed and absorbed for so many years has literally everything to do with the situation we’ve found ourselves in. If I know anything about our fanbase at the time, it’s that though we wrote that music to be up for interpretation, most of it held true to a general, underlying fabric of that imaginary world. Well, I thought it was imaginary, and apparently Josh did too, until…

Should I tell her all of this? Should I even take the time to try and explain? I don’t even know her, but I almost feel obligated, at this point, to share my knowledge. She’s marked herself with proof that she knows the innermost details of our work, and has most likely formulated her own theories on it all. Of course they’d pester her for information, she’s a direct connection.

It may even be against her benefit to be seen talking to me.

I take a deep breath, wondering what good it would do to tell her about her grandfather, like she could stop it anyway. They’d probably just use force with them, too, and carry him off against his will if they tried to disobey and fight against the situation. 

The room is dark and quiet, save for the dimmed lights in the four corners of the room and the light snoring of my comrades locked up in here with me. I glance to my left, seeing Y/N laid on her side a few cots down, facing my way. Slowly, I lift my hand high into the air to wave at her, hoping that she’s still awake. 

A second later her arm is mirroring my action, floating up into the air and waving back at me. In the pale light, I can see a smile form on her face, her eyes lighting up just a bit as we both lower our arms back down beside us. It’s strange, I wonder what she’s thinking being locked up in here with me. I don’t often think about that kind of thing, from a “fan’s” point of view. I never really did, but sometimes it hits you. I wonder what it feels like to be on their side of things? Guess like how it felt when my brothers and I found ourselves in the presence of someone we looked up to. 

But this is quite different. 

I’ve got to get this information to her. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my days. But how in the hell am I going to speak to her while we’re under the constant eye of these masked men?

Could I write her a note, detailing it all out? No, they could find it, and then we’d really be in deep shit. Telekeneisis, speaking in code, using more hand gestures? I’m starving, and my mind is getting to a point of delirium. If it weren’t for that shower today and those frozen carrots, I’m sure I’d be on the verge of passing out, right now.

My eyes feel heavy as I watch her face half shadowed in the darkness, and I know it won’t be long until I think of something…

I fall asleep with a song stuck in my head, one that I haven’t even thought of in ages,

‘The drums will shake the castle wall, the Ringwraiths ride in black, ride on

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before…’

The melody of Page’s mandolin is ringing in my ears as memories of writing with my brothers infiltrates my mind, my body begging for peaceful mental rest. I can almost feel the instrument in my hand and the strings against my fingers as I hear the song playing in my memory. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

 Maybe tomorrow will bring something new. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Y/N

“Jake… Jake, wake up…” I urge him, watching as his eyes flit around behind his eyelids. I gently press his shoulder, feeling quite uneasy about coming in on such a private moment of his. How on earth I’ve found myself being able to be the one waking him up from a deep sleep, I’ll never know. So many years ago I dreamed of just being in their presence during a show, and now, this? I dunno. Mysterious ways. 

“Jake, hey…” I try again, learning that he’s a fairly heavy sleeper. I watch his eyes finally open and register my face, and so I step back a bit as I cower from his bubble. “I’m sorry, the guards have already started patrolling, and they’re acting really weird, not telling us anything… just thought you’d want to be awake for it,” I say, having trouble explaining.

He sits up under his blanket and rubs his hands over his eyes and face. I can see the dark circles under them have gotten much worse. I also see that sometime during the night, he’d taken his shirt off, and I notice the swollen bruises on his back from the baton yesterday. They’re puffy and red, and I feel horrible knowing he has to be in pain. 

“You took your shirt off, are you not freezing in here?!” I ask, hugging my arms to myself in effort to deter asking him about his back.

“No,” he mumbles, grabbing it from the floor and sliding it back over his head. “I burn up when I sleep, burn up all the time, actually. Can’t stand having clothes on.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, my mind zipping directly back to all those years ago when we would literally beg him to take his stage jacket off for a show, and even then, he only ever showed himself shirtless a handful of times. Psh, the fucker must have liked to sweat. But it feels out of place to question him, now. 

“Everyone up! Dressed! Single file!” one of the guards yells across the room as they all finally stand at attention. 

We do as they say, getting into our little line that we’re all now so accustomed to, standing silently in front of the double doors. My hand reaches behind me and finds Paps’, the two of our fingers quickly squeezing one another’s as we remind each other that we’re okay. Jake ended up in front of me, and I can’t help but notice that his hair is as long as it’s ever been… the ends a little frayed but still sitting perfectly across his shoulders in a way my hair could never even dream of doing. I want to reach out and run my fingers through it, it looks so shiny and soft, but I stop myself, knowing that a younger me would be shaking in her boots, right now. 

“We’re going outside today, your pitiful asses need sunlight and fresh air, or else you might wither up and die, and we can’t have that,” one of the guards announces with a sarcastic laugh. I listen closely to his voice and realize that he sounds like he’s around my age. I wonder how on earth he got tied up with a job like this, at the end of the fucking world, no less. His accent even sounds local. 

“Thirty minutes. You can conversate, but keep it to a minimum, we will be monitoring your every move, your every uttered word, and don’t think we won’t,” he says, and his voice is so normal, that it isn’t even threatening. His words, though, are. “Stay within the boundaries of the courtyard, or we will use force. Do not fucking test us.” He turns and adjusts his weapon in his hands as another one opens the double doors for us to be led out. We only take a few steps before he turns back around. “Oh, and it’s not warm outside. So enjoy that.”

They lead us through the doors and down a long hallway, almost as dimly-lit as the room we live in. I see multiple doors but no windows, just long, maze-like hallways of beige-colored walls. We walk for a long time, up and down flights of stairs, and I start to wonder if they are just giving us a little extra exercise. I turn to look at Paps, finding him keeping up just fine, surprisingly. “You okay?” I mouth to him.

He smiles, giving me a sweet nod. I feel proud of him, even in this devastation we’re living in. 

As I turn back around, I see Jake looking at me directly in the eye. He seems out of breath, but not in a sense that he’s tired. He looks nervous. His eyes flick to the side and I follow them, seeing an old fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, a big black ‘X’ painted across the front of it. That’s odd. 

We walk more, and I feel the muscles in my legs start to tire up a bit on our fourth walk up a flight of stairs. We stay silent still yet, all glancing around at one another as we start to realize how huge this building really is. 

We’re led through a door again, and I watch as Jake’s eyes flit back to me again, motioning at me to look at that exact…same…extinguisher?

What the fuck?

I watch as Jake is shaking his head side to side in front of me, his fists clenching at his sides. I can tell that he’s mad, I can feel it radiating off of him. We round the corner at the end of the long hall, and finally, another set of double doors are opening to allow us to see the light of day for the first time in nearly a week. 

My eyes burn and water at the sight of it, the icy cold wind already blowing across my face as we all walk slowly outside into the grassy courtyard. Fuck, this feels good. The wind freezes my nostrils, but the sun is bright. Beaming hot rays shine down onto my face, and I take a deep breath, smelling the scent of impending snow coming through the air. As my eyes dilate, I see the green of the grass, the brown bark of the barren trees, the shadows cast from the overbearing sunlight. It’s all almost overwhelming. 

As I get my bearings and shade my eyes in the light, I look around to find everyone else doing the exact same. Not even a week we’ve been locked indoors, but that was all it took for us to crave being outside.

“Do you smell the snow?” Paps asks, a sweet smile underneath his mustache.

“Yes,” I whisper, grabbing onto his arm as we share giggles. It is rare that we get heavy snows in Tennessee, but when we do, they arrive harsh and quick. And with the way the sun feels so different now, and the weather has made such harsh changes…

I subconsciously look around for Jake, and I finally see him seated on a stone bench, his hands in his lap as he looks around at the buildings that surround us. I look back at Paps, and he motions for me to go and join him. I bite my lip. “Just go,” he says. 

As I slowly approach him, I hug my arms around myself again, feeling my skin chill from the wind. “So I guess this cold isn’t bothering you, huh?” I ask him, noting his very relaxed and carefree posture as it cuts through me like a knife. 

He looks down and picks a loose string from the gray sweats that they’ve given us. “Not really in the least,” he smiles a little, glancing up at me with one eye. I take the seat next to him on the cold bench. 

“I’m jealous, I freeze all the time. Bet you’re thriving in that cold dungeon they’re keeping us in,” I say, a little awkwardly. 

“It isn’t a dungeon,” he blurts out, his fingers brushing over the stubble that’s started to grow in over his lip and chin. I always loved him with a mustache…

“What? How do you know?”

“Did you see the fire extinguisher I pointed out to you? We passed it three times,” he says. 

“I–I’m not understanding…”

He turns slightly and glances at the guards around us, stopping speaking as they pass by. “These buildings aren’t that big… not big enough for us to have gone up and down four flights of stairs and down the exact same hallway three times. Either that guy was lost, or they were trying to confuse us on how to get out of here.”

“Oh…” I say, all of it actually making sense as I look at the building, only two stories high. “Why did they…”

“I paid attention to where we were walking, because I want to know where in the fuck I need to go when I bust out of this place, even if I’m in the dark,” he growls quietly, crossing his arms. 

“Bust out?! Jake, you can’t–”

“Yes the fuck I can,” he says, his eyes cutting to me sharply. I completely lose my breath, he is still so…

His jaw clenches as he keeps eye contact with me for just a second too long. “I think they were trying to tire out your grandfather, too,” he says. 

My heart falls. “Why, what do you mean?”

I watch his jaw clench again as he looks right ahead of us, his focused stare on the red brick of the building. “Jake! What are you talking about?” I press as I feel myself grow anxious. 

He turns to me, his face extremely close as he leans in, his eyes darting behind me to see if any of the guards are nearby. “They’re taking him.”

I feel the blood drain from my body. No… No. “They’re what? How do you know? What do you mean?!” I blab, almost too loudly. His fingers drift up to barely drift across my lips, just as they had done when he shut me up the first time. 

“Shh, you don’t know how to keep your voice down, do you?” he says, and he’s serious. For the second time in a week, Jake Kiszka has touched my lips. But, I can think about that later. His head swishes around nonchalantly as he whispers. “I have intel that they’re taking him, soon. The weakest and the oldest of the groups. It isn’t good, Y/N.”

“Wait wait, groups? There’s more of us? What in the–” I’m losing my breath, I’m so confused. “Where are they taking him? What for?” I whisper, already full of nerves and worry. 

“There are more of us. They keep us in small groups so we don’t spread gossip or information. They call them ‘pods’, and I have reason to believe that my family is in this very same building,” he explains. Just then, one of the guards walks right in front of us, giving Jake what looks to be the tiniest nod, his neck crooking ever so slightly down. 

…What? I watch as the guard’s finger slides off the trigger of his gun as he hangs closely nearby us. To my surprise, Jake keeps talking. 

“They are planning on taking your Paps, and uh,” he swallows. “What they do isn’t good, Y/N, I think they– I think they run some kind of tests on them…” 

I feel a rage I’ve never felt before boiling up in my veins. I want to lash out, I want to scream, I want to wage war on anyone who dares lay a finger on my grandfather. 

“Tests?” I ask, clipped, “What kind of tests?”

Jake swallows, keeping his eyes on the guard beside us. “Experiments.”

“Fuck…” I breathe. “No, they can’t, for what? He hasn’t done anything.. He–”

“He’s old, Y/N, his time is limited,” he says, and I watch as he struggles to explain it to me. Nothing is making sense… what in the hell is even happening? 

I’ve read plenty of books in my past that detail fictional apocalypses… the end of days in some other made-up world, but never did I think I would find myself in one, living day to day and having to think of ways to protect my family. Never.

“I won’t let them, I’ve got to do something…” I fluster, trying to stand from my place to go and be with Paps on the other side of the courtyard. Suddenly, I don’t want him out of my sight. If they’re going to take him, they’re going to take me. 

Jake’s hand is on my arm, stopping me from going anywhere. “Wait, listen. Don’t you want to know why they’re taking him, the oldest and the weakest?”

“Yes, but… you saw Paps in there, he kept up with us as we walked, he isn’t weak–”

“Exactly,” Jake says, “which makes me think we have some time.” I’m rendered speechless, the weight of everything falling over me as I’m enveloped with overwhelming worry. I look to the guard again as Jake goes on with a speech that he should be keeping quiet, but he isn’t.

“We’re immune, Y/N, from the rash. All of us, that’s why we’re here. They’re collecting us,” he says, no longer caring of the tone of his voice being loud enough for anyone to hear. I keep my eyes on the guard. 

“In the past few days, I’ve learned more than I ever thought could be possible, found out more information than I even have time to explain to you right now…”

��Try, Jake, please, I’m so lost…” I plead, my eyes never leaving the guard as Jake’s chin is almost rested on my shoulder, his lips close to my ear. I’m nearly shuddering at his proximity, but I have to force it away. The emotions running through me right now are almost too much to bear. 

“We are a part of something much, much bigger than us. Something that we can’t even fathom. You weren’t that far off when you said that those things that captured you didn’t feel human, it’s because they’re not. The world as we know it is trying to push us off, kill us with the monster that we created, but some of us, we are immune to that sickness. You, me, your Paps… all of us can’t be infected by technology. So they came and gathered us here to wait while the rest of us are collected, so that we can continue on with mankind.”

I’m speechless again as I let his words sink in. Nothing makes sense, everything is so far off base, I can hardly form a thought. 

Continue on with…mankind?

“There’s so much more to explain, and I will, later, but our connection to this is much, much deeper than the people that we’re locked in here with. And I think we are going to have to pay for it…”

“Pay?” I ask. “Why us, and not them?”

He’s quiet again as the wind blows his hair across my face. I think I’m about to pass out as I feel him so close, but then I remember the heaviness of the words he’s saying, and not the feeling of his strands drifting across my face, as I’ve pictured them doing a million times before…

“You loved our music, right? Must have meant you had a love for our inspiration?” he asks, throwing me off. 

“Yeah, I guess…” I say, blinking as his strands catch in my eyelashes. 

“There were a bunch… who was your favorite? Who did you listen to most?” he asks. 

What the fuck? What does this matter?

“Uh, I dunno, Zeppelin, I guess?” 

“Good! Good… that’s good… so you are very familiar with them…” he breathes, confusing me even more. I pull away and meet his eyes, full of some type of new light. 

“...Yes…” I say through my teeth, the irony of the comparison almost making me laugh given their past with the band. 

He swallows hard as we hear a whistle being blown. 

‘The drums will shake the castle wall, the Ringwraiths ride in black, ride on

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before…’ he sings, and I instantly recognize the song. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

I nod harshly. “Yes, Evermore…?” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Inspired us a lot for–”

“Garden’s Gate. Yeah, I kinda always figured that…” I interrupt, wanting him to get along with it. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He bites his lips, his cheeks turning a deep pink. “Plant drew inspiration from Tolkien to write that song, right? Based the lyrics on a far-away world?” he goes on.

“Right, yeah…”

He licks his lips as he tries to formulate his words. “What if Evermore were real? What if it really exists somewhere out there, but only very little people know of its existence?”

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

“Would it be so far off to think that a song inspired us so heavily that it gave my brother confidence to write about a world that he had dreamt up? Had nightmares about? Decades-long nightmares about a world that we don’t believe exists, but only in our music…?” 

My eyes clench as I try and understand. 

“Jake, I’m…” I don’t really understand what he’s trying to say. “Josh had nightmares?”

He nods slowly. “Tons of them. About battles, ancient tales, warriors, characters who inhabited other worlds…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated onto mine. “About technology overtaking the world…” 

Oh. Oh my…god…

My face drops as my eyebrows raise. “What… how is that even…?”

I look to the guard again, watching as he nods at me, just as he had Jake. I hear the whistle again. 

“I have more to tell you, but first we have to save your grandfather…” he says. 

I feel panicked. “Is that man your intel?” I ask Jake as I turn to him and ask about the guard beside us. 

He nods, taking both of my hands in his. “Yes, he can be trusted. And so can his brother. There is so much more, Y/N, I just need to know that you trust me… do you trust me?”

Me? Is Jake Kiszka asking me to trust him?!

“Yeah, of course I do… I just–” The group is being rushed out as the whistle continues to be blown. I’m being pulled in the crowd away from Jake… but I watch as he mumbles to me. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

Suddenly Paps’ hand is grasped in mine, and I feel the wind cut through my thin sweatshirt. I glance over to Jake again as he points to his arm once more, again telling me not to let anyone see the marks of my tattoos.

—-

We’re led back inside, taking the same route we did earlier, but backwards. I pay attention now, realizing that Jake was absolutely right. We pass the fire extinguisher three times, and go up and down the staircases an uneven amount of times it would take in this two-story building, even if it were the dungeon that they are keeping us in. 

My throat is dry as my emotions settle in, and I keep a keen eye on Paps, who I have let walk in front of me in our line. I need to tell him, but they will hear me. They will know. 

And Jake has intel?! What the fuck? How did he know he could trust that guard, we couldn’t even see his face! And he has a brother…?! All of this is still so gray to me, and I struggle with myself as I become a little internally irate that I don’t know every detail, like Jake does. I wish that we had more time to talk. More privacy. 

Jake is somewhere in the line behind me, and I try my best not to turn around and look at him. I need to look at him. I pull my sleeve down over my ink-covered arm, just like he’d asked, clutching the fabric tightly in my hand as we pace down yet another hallway. 

As they’re pulling us through a heavy metal door, two other guards are standing on the threshold. These guards aren’t like the ones who stay with us, they’re taller, thinner, and dressed differently than the ones we’re familiar with. They’re dressed in robes with hoods covering their heads, with heavy armored clothing underneath. They aren’t armed, but their faces are still covered. As the line passes between them, my stomach drops with a horrible feeling of dread. Something isn’t right…

These men aren’t guards, they’re the same beings that took us from the truck that night. 

“Paps!!” I scream, just as they grab onto either one of his arms, dragging him away from the line and through the door to another room. “Let him go!!!” I yell, my voice barely making the words out as I grab onto his waist, pulling him away from them. 

I catch his eyes, panicked and terrified as he fights against them. I feel Jake suddenly behind me, reaching out for Paps’ hands, as well. “Where are you taking him?!” Jake screams. “Don!”

“Y/N, no! Don’t let them…!” Paps yells back at me before a cloth is stretched over his mouth and eyes, and the heavy doors shut before us, leaving the whole group in a fury of madness. 

All of us, all of these people whom we don’t know but have spent the past few days locked up alongside us, all screaming and yelling and throwing their fists into the air to the guards who govern us. In this tiny landing in the curve of two stairwells, finally, all of us rise up against the guards in retaliation. 

“Let him go!”

“Bring him back!”

“Fuck you all, take us too!”

I hear the bunch of us erupt as my ears go deaf with adrenaline. I rush to the door, pushing my entire body weight against it to try and get through…to chase after where they had taken Paps. But it’s locked, barricaded with something heavy. 

I turn around again to the angry mob, the guards using force to hold them all back into the corner. They fight, they hit, they pull…I feel pride in the fact that maybe we aren’t all worthless in this place, after all... Watching on as we all finally stand up to them. 

But the thought is fleeting, as I watch Jake fall to the floor, blood pouring from the side of his face. I’m stunned, watching as it pools beside him. 

No…god, no. 

I rush to him, now, the mob of immunes now more infuriated than ever. There are only ten or twelve of us, all ranging in age and color and background…but they form a protective circle around Jake and I, layers of backs crowded above the two of us as I comfort Jake on the ground. 

Fearful tears are pooling in my eyes, and I feel the chaos above as I kneel beside him. They’re beating them, using force to drive through the protective wall to get to us, continuing on with trying to get to Jake. What had he done to piss them off? 

JAKE

I feel sharp pain near my temple and a dizziness overtaking my mind, but I also feel Y/N’s hand pressed tightly to my scalp and her presence beside me. I float in and out of consciousness, the noise of the chaos above me sounding more like a dull drone than individual yells. I’m being pushed and held down, but her hand never falters from trying to stop whatever blood is coming from the side of my head. I can taste metal in my mouth, and my ears are ringing so loudly that it hurts. There’s no doubt I will probably have a concussion. 

I look up at the blur above me, arms flailing, fists flying… all trying to protect me from…

Those beings. I know what they are…

They look different, though. They don’t look like the harmless hooded characters we emblazoned on the cover of our second EP, our mascots of sorts that adorned the front of so many posters and media. I remember how particular Josh was with coming up with the image of them, how cryptic he kept his descriptions. It all makes sense now… he was dreaming about the beings who exist between both realms. 

And apparently, they aren’t as nice as we had always envisioned them to be. 

Underneath their robes is a type of armor, chainmailled body suits made of heavy silver rings, all intertwined together and covering their chests like knights. Their faces can’t be seen, though I’m positive they keep them hidden under the heavy hood with a mask of sorts. They aren’t peaceful characters. What I always pictured as ancient representatives of our beloved world, our Infisonicosm, are nothing more than violent creatures who are apparently the ones sent to take drastic measures to protect the integrity of their realm. And capture my brothers and I.

It feels so out of sorts to even be thinking like this, believing what the First and Second told me about the parallel realm that we had written about. It’s ridiculous. It feels like insanity has overtaken my brain, believing in something so far-fetched that I actually want to laugh. 

…But all I want to do is run to my brothers and tell them that it is all fucking real. That Josh’s nightmares weren’t just dreams. That Danny was right all along, and nearly every single theory that was dreamt up by us alongside the ones who loved our music was, in fact, truth. 

“Jake!!!” I hear Y/N yell above the ruckus, trying her best to pull me to my feet. I’m dizzy, but I make it to my feet and stumble toward the stairs as she pulls me along, the angry mob behind me somehow holding off the creatures that haunted Josh’s nightmares. They need me. They want to hurt me, but they know I am valuable to their success. I have got to find my brothers, I have got to escape this place…

The two of us rush down the stairs, my feet carrying me quickly through the halls and dark staircases. Her hand is in mine, pulling me and keeping me on track as I stumble and bounce off the walls. “Stay with me, Jake… stay with me…” she beckons, and through my deafened ears, her voice is angelic.

My eyes stay half-closed as I run, keying in on her voice and the feeling of her hand pulling me along. I want to listen to her talk to me, I need the sound of it to keep me going… to keep me from succumbing to the dizziness. 

“Keep… Keep talking to me, Y/N,” I stammer out as we blast through another heavy metal door. I hear loud bangs and slams far behind us, and the pure fear of being caught again perpetuates my legs to keep moving. 

Suddenly I feel her hands on the sides of my head, her face so close I can feel her breath. “Jake, Jacob, look at me… open your eyes, we have got to keep running…” she pants, and the cadence of her encouragement lights a fire beneath me. “We’ve got to go, they’re chasing us…”

We take off again, the hallways seeming to become darker and darker the further along we go. I hear footsteps echoing behind us, and I know I’ve got to keep going, keep running. My heart is pounding as I try to stay alert. I know she has no idea where she’s going, but I’m just happy she is bringing me along. 

“Come on, Jake… come on…” she urges with a whisper, her hand squeezing at mine as she glances back at me every few seconds. It’s a miracle they haven’t caught up with us yet. I’m so out of breath I can hardly stand it, and the blood is dripping from the side of my head down onto my shoulder. But I hold her hand steady. 

The lights are flashing down here, and it seems as though we’ve run so far that we’ve reached a place that not many go. It’s almost too quiet, and only the sound of our heavy breathing is bouncing off the walls. We pause, looking around to gather ourselves as we take a second to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” she whispers, her hand shakily coming up to touch what I assume to be my head wound. I feel the immediate need to comfort her; the sound of the worry in her voice shoots right through my gut. 

“No, but I’m alright…” I breathe, barely hanging on to my consciousness. Thankfully, the adrenaline from running from those things has taken over and gotten me to safety. My chest is rattled and my limbs are sore, but still all I can think about is the terror that’s written all over Y/N’s face as she fights her instinct to want to assess me. “I’ll make it,” I reassure her.

“Your head, Jake, they– they hit you really hard…” her voice cracks, tears almost filling her eyes. I must look worse than I feel. The lights flash again and I suddenly notice a rumble under my feet.

“M’ okay, I prom- promise…” I stumble out, hanging on to my thoughts with everything in me. 

“Whoa,” she says, looking to the floor as she drops my hands. “What’s that?!”

The floor is vibrating, the walls around us beginning to make a loud humming noise as I start to feel uneasy again. The footsteps are still bounding toward us as we both scan around looking for another exit.

Suddenly, it’s as if the earth itself has decided to make every noise that has existed since the dawn of time- howling, cracking, lurching, growling… we both move our hands to cover our ears from the deafening sound, the shaking beneath our feet becoming more and more violent. 

It’s then that I know exactly what’s happening, another sinkhole. Right where we stand.

As the realization hits me, and the structure surrounding us begins to falter, I watch as the two creatures chasing us bound through the door we had just passed through, their arms outstretched and racing for us as we back away, hurling ourselves through the only other door that is available. 

The whole building begins to feel like it’s shaking, giving out from underneath us as I can feel the once-sturdy beams and foundation begin to give way. We have got to run. 

We race through the door, still hand in hand as we begin ascending the stairs now, trying to get out and to higher ground away from the buildings. I can’t explain the fear that’s rushing through my body; I’m not sure I’ve ever been as blatantly terrified for my own life as I am, right now. Fight or flight doesn’t even begin to compare to the fear of running from two things at once, both of them wanting to take your life for their own.

Running, bounding, skipping up stairs more quickly than I ever have before… somehow or another I’m managing, all because of the girl in front of me directing my motions, and not even thinking about leaving me behind. 

They’re on our tails, I can feel them… likely running to get to higher ground, too, at this point. The sound is still deafening in my ears as the walls begin cracking around us. We get to the top of a staircase and a bout of clarity hits me. I see one of those damned fire extinguishers hanging on the wall, an axe in the glass case with it.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!! Stop stop…” I say to her as I halt, our shoes sliding across the floor. I rip my shirt off, quickly wrapping the fabric around my hand. 

“What are you doing, Jake? We have to go!!” she yells, and I see the shadowed figures through the glass of the doors, bounding toward us. Without even thinking, I take my wrapped fist and break the glass, grabbing the axe that lies inside it. 

“Shut the doors shut the doors!” I yell at her, and she does, quickly leaning her back against them so that I can position the end of the axe through the door handles. Just as the head of the axe falls into place, the two figures hit the doors, trying as they might to pass through them. We step back, realizing our barrier is holding, and they cannot pass through it. I watch as Y/N holds both of her middle fingers up to them, and I hear their inhuman screams from the other side of the doors as they thrust their shoulders against them. 

Again we begin to run, flying up a set of stairs where I can see sunlight peeking through one of the windows. The building is shaking and moving below us, and my terror is at an all time high. Up we climb, my heart pounding as I watch her in front of me, turning to check on me every few seconds just as she had been. My heart flutters for just a split second at her concern for me, but it’s overtaken by the impending relief I feel for seeing daylight. 

“Go, Y/N! We’re almost there!” I yell, the ground below me vibrating so hard now that I nearly lose my balance and I put my shirt back on. “Run!!!” 

Finally we top the stairs and burst through the luckily unlocked door, rushing out into the cold brightness of the day. Yes, yes yes… I’ve never been happier to feel the cold rush of wind entering my lungs. My legs still carry me quickly over the now cracked concrete parking lot, around all of the old, dusty parked vehicles, and over barriers and fences as we run from the dreadful sound. I reach and grasp her hand in mine again as we hop over concrete barriers, onto what used to be the freeway.

A quick glance behind me shows me a sight I never thought I would see- the whole area we had just managed to run from, swallowed up by the earth. Fuck, Don…

I squeeze her hand as we rush again, both of us afraid that the fault line will continue to follow us. We run until we can’t anymore, until our legs are giving out on us, until we can hardly catch our breath. I finally stop, the dizziness beginning to reenter my mind as my adrenaline wears off. We’ve run about a half a mile, and we’re nearing what once was a string of stores. It’s abandoned, and shows no sign of any inhabitants. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she pants as we maneuver through the tall grasses that have grown through the parking lot. 

“I’m alright, I’ll make it…” I reassure her, watching her eyes light up when I say that I am okay. I squeeze her hand as we slow to a walk, feeling now that we might be safe.

We make our way to one of the old store fronts, what looks to be a convenience store. The windows are bashed out, and it has been looted, but I also notice something else on the cement below the door- fresh drops of blood. 

“Hey, Y/N,” I whisper, motioning to it. She looks to me as we both try and catch our breath, her brows furrowing in just as much confusion that’s probably written on my face too. I take the lead, the dizziness beginning to dissipate a little as I catch my breath, and my body calms. “Shh,” I motion with my finger over my lips, walking us through the old window as I follow the blood trail. 

We’re careful as we step over the glass shards and destroyed shelves, looking around to see if we could see anyone. Half of me thinks this is a horrible idea, and the other half wants to see if there is an injured individual who is hiding away, just as we are. I grab a pocketknife that once sat for sale on the shelf, wielding the blade in preparation.

There’s barely a breeze that floats through the old store, but I watch as the blood drops get smaller and smaller. They lead us to a door of what used to be the office of the manager of the store. Again, I hold my finger to my lips as I prepare to open it. This is such a bad idea…

My hand is shaking as I reach for the knob, second-guessing my decision with every ticking second. But Y/N doesn’t stop me, she must also know that any living thing we come in contact with is valuable, at this point. I grip the old gold knob and twist, my heart thrumming in my chest as I mentally prepare myself to fight. 

I shove the door open, and what I lay my eyes upon almost took all the breath from my lungs. 

“Sam?!”

“Oh my god, Jake!” He lurches toward me as I drop the knife to the ground, and the arms of my brother finally wrap around me in an unbelievably welcome embrace. 

Tears immediately fall from my eyes as we hold each other, and I can no longer feel the throbbing pain in my temple. “Is this real? Are you real?” I cry out, pounding my fist into his back in disbelief. 

“Yea, yea, I’m here!” Sam cries. “Fuck how did you–”

We pull away, meeting eyes as we fight to believe it. “There was another sink hole, we–we just managed to get out… we barely made it,” I explain, feeling out of breath again. “God, what– why are you here!? How did we find you?”

“We ran, we ran too! I used to come to this store sometimes, I dunno, it’s just where I ended up running to, then I was breaking the glass to get in and I sliced my hand open…” he says, running his hand along his dripping nose. “I heard you coming and we ran to hide…”

“We? Who’s we?!” I ask, looking around for someone else. 

“Jake? What the fuck?!” 

I turn to the voice behind me, recognizing it right off the bat as Daniel. I run to him, too, extending my arms around his torso as we embrace. “Oh my god…” he wails. “We didn’t think we’d find you, why are you here? How did you find us?!”

“Me and Y/N, we just ran…” I say, stepping back to look at her. She’s standing with her arms crossed, tears filling her eyes. “What’s wrong, are you okay?”

It only then hit me that she is watching the three of us reconvene, up close and personal. She looks like she’s in shock. 

“Yeah, I just…wow I never, I’m so glad you’re all okay…” she says through a thick smile. 

Immediately, Sam is walking to her through the pillaged rubble of the store. “Hey, I’m Sam, I’d shake your hand but, kinda bloody,” he says, extending his left hand instead. She sweetly takes it, her cheeks turning the brightest shade of pink.

“She knows who you are, Sam. She uh, followed us for years,” I explain. 

Sam glances at me with wide eyes. “No! You’re kidding!” 

I notice her cower back in shyness. “Yeah, sure did. Since uhm, since Strange Horizons,” she giggles. “All the way up until…”

The three of us stare at her as she collects her emotions. “I had tickets to the first show you had to cancel. Kind of uh, ironic, now…”

“Yeah, that one was a bit out of our hands,” Sam grunts through a laugh. I take notice of how long his beard has gotten, making me run my hand over my own rough, scruffy face. I haven’t even looked in a mirror in weeks.

“How in the hell did you two link up?” Danny interrupts my thoughts. 

“They had us in the same group, she and her grandfather,” I say, looking at her again. Her eyes hold mine for only a few seconds, fear and terror and sadness washing over her. She turns away as it looks as though she’s embarrassed for us to see her upset. 

I go to her as she turns, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, he probably made it out, they wouldn’t have just left him…he’s a strong and able bodied man, he—he’s probably rushing around trying to find you, right now,” I try to console her. 

“No he isn’t, Jake, you saw what happened to that building! There’s no way he made it!” she whisper-cries, covering her mouth. 

“Hey you don’t know that, Y/N. Those…things may have taken them with them when they ran. They know he was valuable. For all we know they got him out safely, you can’t think like that…” I say, and she bites her lips in trying to hold back her sobs. She holds herself as I hear Danny and Sam trying to make themselves invisible with pointless tasks behind us. She looks absolutely distraught. 

So I do the first thing that pops into my head, I take her into my best comforting embrace. “It’s alright, it’s okay to freak out for a second, if you need to…” I say. 

Her forehead rests on my shoulder as I feel her let it all go, her fear and sadness and worry that she’s been holding in for her grandfather. I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling right now. “Shh, it’s alright. We’ll find him, Y/N, I promise. We will find him.”

My promise holds less weight than I make it sound, but anything I can muster to try and qualm her sobs and calm her thoughts. I know how she feels, at least, being ripped apart from your family and forced into this terror. She relaxes into me for a short-lived few seconds, but as soon as she does, it’s as if the world around us disappears. I haven’t felt another human’s touch like this in weeks… the last time I really felt this connection was one morning before we left for the cabins, when my mom decided to break down on me a little, and I consoled her cries in the kitchen. 

It’s strange really, what the lack of that human connection can do to your psyche. You don’t really ever realize how much we thrive off of it, how much the chemicals in our brains rely on that rush of endorphins to keep us intact. I’ve missed it, I’ve missed a lot, honestly, but you don’t have time to think about your physical needs when you’re trying to survive. So I let her fall into me, and I into her, her hands gripping into the back of my shirt as her sobs shake her chest. I allow myself to squeeze her shoulders under mine, and rest my chin on top of her head, feeling more relaxed than I have in months. This feels…

“I’m sorry,” she says as she quickly pulls away and wipes her eyes. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be—“

“No no, it’s okay, don’t worry,” I say, the disconnection from her feeling more intense than I thought it would. Like my second of euphoria was snapped in half, right before the comedown. She dries it up quickly as she hides her face from me, and I decide to give her a second. I still feel a strange tingle shooting its way through my body, and I know for a fact just that small act of comfort will have me craving more later. 

“Jake, have you seen Josh anywhere? Heard from anyone else?” Sam says as he walks my way. 

I shake my head. “No, but I have some um, information…that I think could help us find everyone. But it isn’t the best,” I choke out as I watch their brows furrow. 

“What do you mean?” Danny asks, glancing back over to where Y/N is trying to collect herself.

I take a deep breath as I grab ahold of the old countertop beside me, still worn from years of use. My knuckles are red and busted, and my fingers look more frail than they have in my entire life. 

I’m honestly not even sure where to start with this…

“Daniel, before they took us, before everyone got separated, those thoughts you were having, those suspicions about our lyrics and our world…they’re um. They’re very, extremely real,” I try and begin to explain. “Unfortunately, I think… I think we’re in for a lot worse than we realize…”

"Wait, what? What do you mean they're real?" he asks, stepping toward me.

I take a short, chopped breath. "It exists, guys. That world we created, that we built from Josh's crazy fucking thoughts... We didn't invent it, it's real. It's in another realm that exists alongside ours. Josh um, Josh dreamt about it, for years. Everything he dreamed, he passed along into our music, visually, and conceptually. He was dreaming about it because it's not fictional. It's totally and completely a place that lives and breathes, just like we do."

It’s then that the four of us freeze, hearing loud footsteps trudging across the gravel-covered pavement in the lot outside. Three sets, at least. 

“Fuck,” Danny whispers as we all jump straight into panic again, rushing toward the back of the building to find a back door. 

We bust through, rushing to the heavily-wooded area behind the line of stores, straight to the unknown.

Again. Running…

Fear and anxiety grip me again as we rush up the hill, briars and sticks catching against my skin. Daniel and Sam are ahead of me as we scale up the steep incline, darting straight for any type of coverage we can find. I look back, realizing that it’s now my turn to find Y/N’s hand, and pull her along. 

No longer is my head throbbing, no longer is the dizziness wracking through my psyche. I’m not sure what switched, only fifteen minutes ago I was passing out as she pulled me through the hallways to safety, but here, now… I feel more clarity than ever. 

I find her hand, still damp from wiping her own tears, and I pull her to my side, giving her hand a tight squeeze as we run. We finally top the incline into a field full of trash and old machinery, abandoned vehicles and an old shed in the corner. The trees tower high above us, and I’m thankful that they had provided us with high boots as they held us in that damned building. We quickly trudge through the thick grass, and it dawns on me then how much nature has already begun to take over. How tall the bushes are, how much foliage grows on the trees.

It hits me then– it’s supposed to be winter… Why is everything so green?

I shake the disorienting thought from my head as I follow behind Danny and Sam, a quick and agile Y/N keeping right up with us. Darkness is about to fall, but my brothers and I are resourceful. Suddenly a brand new journey is awaiting us, a manhunt for the ages as our main concern is now finding Paps, and finding the rest of my family. 

As we run, I dig deep for gumption, for something steadfast to hold onto so that we can keep going. So we can work together to get through this, one step at a time. Our road ahead is going to be one of the most difficult we’ve navigated yet, but now I’ve got a team behind me. And though my other half is missing, I’ve got more drive than ever to find him, and stop them from taking us for our knowledge and twisting it for what we thought was imaginary, and using it to their own agenda.

I won’t be able to save the world, but damned if I’m not gonna try. 

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka@jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter @gretnavannfleet

[balioc]

Holiday Engineering: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I wasn't actually planning to make a dedicated post about Christmas. In most ways, it isn't a helpful reference point for a would-be holiday engineer. The things that make Christmas really noteworthy, and most of the things that make it really good, are not things that are within your power to replicate.

But, judging by the notes on my last Holiday Engineering post, it seems clear that my take on Christmas is a thing that is worth discussing and explaining. And, moreover, this is probably a fine pretext for some discussion of what it means for a holiday to be good or bad.

To start with: no holiday is for everyone. No thing is for everyone. No matter what kind of festival you make, a lot of people are going to be annoyed by it, and a lot more people are going to be pretty indifferent.

That basic truth has a number of ramifications. One of them is that -- as with any other kind of design -- when you're thinking about holiday design in abstract conceptual terms, it behooves you to distance yourself from your own preferences and passions at least a little bit. The best thing for you isn't necessarily the best thing in general, and vice versa. It's important to be able to understand when your own idiosyncrasies are pulling you away from good craftsmanship.

I have a strong antipathy towards Halloween, for Reasons. But I have enough perspective to be aware that those Reasons aren't going to be relevant to most other people, no matter how important they seem to me; and, in fact, I believe that Halloween is generally a very well-constructed festival in an "objective" sense.

Whatever else you want to say: there are definitely a lot of people who really don't like Christmas. And it's worth talking about why that is, because some of those reasons are widespread, and they matter. But that, in itself, is not an indication of bad design or low-quality content.

So, without further ado: I believe that the modern Western instantiation of Christmas is probably the greatest holiday of all time.

The core of the holiday's excellence is its theme. The short and simple version of that theme is peace on earth and goodwill towards men, which is -- pretty much the best possible theme that a holiday can have, A+, no notes. It is a high ideal of human living, so obvious that anyone short of a Spartiate can appreciate its value, rendered so straightforward that a tiny child can understand it. But in fact the situation is more complex than that, because Christmas is a complicated holiday, and it's worth digging a bit deeper.

Christmas is, in theory, God's birthday. Which is to say, it is a festival celebrating the entrance of the sacred into a profane world. It is something more than the commemoration of a mystery or a miracle; it is a commemoration of the fact that we get to have mysteries and miracles. And so the essential nature of the holiday is a fully-general "this is the special-time and the sacred-time," but that thing isn't just a bare assertion, it's fully rooted in the myth. The holiday spirit of Christmas is the spirit of everything that humans really think a holiday ought to be, put in a blender. Which tends to work out to something like, well, light and love and joy, letting our worldly strivings and animosities fade away in the face of the celebration, peace on earth and goodwill towards men. Christmas truces can develop spontaneously because Christmas is the festival, the moment at which it becomes powerfully obvious that there is something more powerful and more profound than whatever-you're-fighting-over-this-week.

And, crucially, this is framed in a deeply universal way. At its deepest roots, Christmas is all about Jesus, which just by itself raises a lot of hackles in certain quarters...but who is the Jesus of Christmas? He's not arguing with Pharisees or cursing fig trees or talking about how he came to bring the sword. He's not even tending to the poor, or dying horribly for your sins. He is a baby. The cult figure of the festival has no agenda, no politics or judgments, only wonder and potential and promise. The miracle of the season is often described as "a child is born," which is the most universal kind of celebratory event known to humanity.

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At this stage of its development, Christmas-as-she-is-practiced is really three almost-distinct holidays, each with its own vibe and its own canon of traditions.

Christmas A is the religious festival celebrating the birth of Christ, the one with the angels and the magi and the Latin. Christmas B is the not-necessarily-godly-but-solemn-and-sacred festival of peace and togetherness -- the Christmas of A Christmas Carol and "Good King Wenceslaus," the Christmas of fetishized family dinners. Christmas C is the tinsel-y consumerist holiday, the one that's all about how winter is fun and magical, with "Frosty the Snowman" for the kids and "Santa Baby" for the grownups and big holiday-sales displays for everyone.

(Crucially: Christmas C is still a real holiday, even just taken on its own terms, and has its own sacred narratives etc. Often these are weirdly romantic, but, well, at least in America, courtship is more sacred than pretty much anything else. See: appx. one hojillion Hallmark Channel movies.)

(There are also some more-minor quasi-independent holidays kicking around in there, like the remnant pagan stuff that you see in "The Holly and the Ivy." These are outside the scope of this discussion, but, y'know, they're interesting.)

This weird structure gives Christmas a lot of flexibility, because these three pseudo-holidays are capable of functioning more-or-less independently, but each of them is strongly connected to the others and therefore capable of providing reinforcement. If you don't want Christmas to be about Jesus, then fine, forget about him, there's still a practically-infinite amount of Christmas in which you can participate. But if you do want Christmas to be about Jesus, then your celebration of the nativity borrows sparkle and mojo from both Charles Dickens and the Coca-Cola Corporation. I myself have a strong dislike for the tinsel-y kind of celebration, for "Jingle Bells" and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" etc. -- but not only am I capable of enjoying Christmas A and Christmas B, I am capable of enjoying a world made Christmassy in large part by people who are doing the Christmas C thing, and their celebrations are constantly shading into the things that I like more.

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Relatedly: Christmas is one of the vanishingly-few modern holidays that is capable of feeling like a festival in the old sense, in a more-than-tiny-and-localized context. By which I mean that it consumes and alters the entire world. It's not just a thing you might choose to do, it is a thing that is happening around you, it is a season of the world. It feels real, to me and to many, in a way that most lesser holidays don't, because it pervades.

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...and we haven't even yet touched on the actual-factual nature of Christmas's power, which is just pure snowball effect: because Christmas is what it is, because it is the biggest and most important holiday, it is constantly becoming more that thing as ever more people add to it.

I said in my last Holiday Engineering post that Chanukah had two decent songs. You could possibly talk me into raising that number to five, maybe even ten if you're willing to accept some real deep cuts. Christmas has amazing songs, and it has so fucking many of them, because "writing new Christmas bangers" is a thing that medieval monks did and it's a thing that top-shelf musical geniuses are still doing today. You can fill days' worth of soundtrack with excellent Christmas music even if all you like is sacred stuff in Latin, and the same thing is true if you hate sacred stuff in Latin but you love Mariah Carey and Taylor Swift.

"Classic Christmas movie" is a genre, and not a small one. Practically every noteworthy long-running TV show made in the West has done a Christmas thing at some point, and many of them have done Christmas things every season.

Christmas is not particularly a sweets holiday, but nonetheless there are a million Christmas candies and Christmas cookies etc., because 'tis the season and it's worth randomly doing that thing, in a way that it is not worth randomly doing that thing for any lesser festival.

Even myths and rituals accrue in this way. Eight flying reindeer with cutesy names? Awesome, that poem was cool, let's make that canon. A ninth reindeer with a light-up red nose? The kids will love it. Krampus? Sure, why not, let's (twist the Alpine tradition a bit and) give Santa an evil opponent in the form of a goat demon with a taste for kidnapping.

And all of these things provide foundation for future ones.

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(I am not going to spend a lot of time listing high-quality Christmas foods and drinks, explaining why Santa Claus is a punchy and compelling bit of myth, etc. I think you can probably construct those points on your own.)

(...I suppose I will take the time to point out, briefly, that in additional to everything else, Christmas has so many good and distinctive symbols. The manger scene, the magi on their camels, the Christmas tree, Santa in his sleigh, the wreath, the wrapped gift box, the colors red and green...)

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It is true, of course, that Christmas is a family holiday. And that alone is enough to ensure that many people, especially around these parts, despise it.

There is, of course, a version of Christmas suitable for wholly-independent adults. Which matters. You can have a very Christmassy Christmas, full of lights and festival music and gifts and myth, celebrated entirely in the company of your peers. But, yeah, the world kinda expects you to Go Home (if your family celebrates Christmas) and you'll have to deal with various kinds of trouble if you choose not to do that.

I refuse to deduct points for that. It is not inherently bad to be a family holiday; in the end, holidays are probably more important for kids than for anyone else; if for some diabolical reason I had to choose between having only family holidays and having only independent-adult holidays, I'd choose the former, even though I personally enjoy the latter more most of the time. The fact that you don't like spending time with your family is not a knock on the holiday, any more than your being allergic to cheese is a knock on cheese.

----------

It is also true that Christmas is kind of inescapable. As I said above, it pervades. Which means that, if you don't like it, you still have to deal with it quite a lot, and that's probably going to make you like it even less.

I don't blame anyone for feeling that way. But, like, that is inherently an outgrowth of the holiday's success and popularity.

Being popular doesn't necessarily mean that something is good. You can even be legitimately annoyed that something is over-popular or overhyped. In the end, however, anything is going to cater to the people who love it and not to the people who hate it, especially if catering to the people who hate it primarily means "existing less." This is double-plus true for a holiday, where (as discussed above), being really widespread and close-to-universally-adopted provides a power and a value all its own.

[goodluckclove]

clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 17!!!

Okay, it's been a bit so quick recap: We just spent the evening at a dive bar singing karaoke and learning that 1) Jesus is a 13-year-old rich white kid with rich parents living in L.A. and 2) Muriel is missing. The Angel of Sardis gave us a lovely fishbowl (alcoholic drink since no one in this world has bothered to ask Reader's age because I have more room to play that way) as a reward for singing Taylor Swift (Shake it Off). We pick up our story The Morning After.

Also, since the poll about Sardis tied, I'm taking it to mean that everyone needs/wants more time with him to figure him out. Fortunately people also voted to bring him along, so we get to have LOTS OF THAT!! :D

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major for anyone who's curious.

What music do you think Anathema likes??

Let's do this!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

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

The next morning you sit at the table in the dining room of the massive Ritz hotel suite, staring into your coffee. You have a headache, and no one else seems to be faring too much better. If only it was just a hangover. A miracle from either Aziraphale or Crowley could fix a hangover, but there was no way that a miracle of any size could make your situation any less bleak.

Aziraphale, angel that he literally is, had thought to order in breakfast from the kitchens. You look from your coffee to the waiting plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, heaving a sigh. Jesus, if and when you find him, is an entitled teen. Muriel, friend and precious, is missing. Things are...well, it’s hard to feel happy or optimistic right now. Your companions aren’t faring much better as far as you can tell. Crowley is staring at his phone with a frown, the sound effects of Candy Crush drifting across the otherwise silent table. He’s playing at non-chalance, but you know Distraction As A Coping Mechanism when you see it. Aziraphale has barely touched his food, focusing more on alternating between stirring his tea, and sipping it only to add more sugar. The drink must be nearly syrup by now. Anathema keeps dangling her pendulum, pausing, then setting it down to re-cast her rune stones. You’ve noticed that they keep landing up the same way. Well, you need fuel in your system if you’re going to deal with all of this, so you reluctantly cut a slice of pancake with your fork and bring it to your mouth.

The silence stretches. Well, except for the ambiance; Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, pancake slice. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, pancake slice. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, bacon – mixing it up a little. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast

BAM!!!!

The door of the suite slams open, and there stands Sardis with his foot in the air.

He kicked the door down. What...on….earth…

“I FOUND HIM!” Sardis stomps into the suite toward the table, waving his phone in the air, “I FOUND HIM! I knew I’d seen his face somewhere, and I found him!!”

Crowley sits up straight for once in his life. “Who THE FUCK gave him a key?!”

You avert your gaze. The fishbowl was delicious, and he patted your head afterward and told you everything would be okay! Not your fault….entirely.

There isn’t much time for you to contemplate your guilt because Sardis has turned up the volume on his phone, and pressed play on a Tik Tok video. He turns his phone so that you all can see the screen. A boy with dirty-blonde hair is smiling out of it. His hair is longer in the middle and pouffed up with what is probably a standard-teenager’s worth of hair gel, and the sides are very short with...dollar signs shaved into them. It’s just a Tik Tok video, but you can smell the Axe body spray from here.

“Hey guys!” The smiling teen calls, waving at the camera. “It’s me, ya boy Jeremy. I’m bringing back my most popular series. That’s right! You asked, and I’m answering your prayers! Time to bring back Let’s See What I Can Get Away With Because I’m RICH.”

Your face twists in disgust, and you hear Anathema groan.

“I think we’ve seen quite enough,” Aziraphale says, speaking for you all.

“Are...are you sure that’s Jesus?” You ask. Honestly you’re hoping it’s a joke. You’re hoping beyond hope that this...this...caricature of a person is not the same person who you need to convince to help you save the world.

“Oh yeah,” Sardis replies, “That’s him. Right name and everything.”

“Wot? Jeremy?” asks Crowley with an edge of salty sarcasm.

“No,” Sardis says, “His true name. I know everyone’s, remember? It’s the right kid, you have my word on that.”

Truth be told, you’re still not exactly sure what his word is worth, but for now it’s a lead. You glance at Anathema, who shrugs.

“Fits the bill,” she admits, “All my readings have been...unsettlingly clear about the kind of kid we’re looking for, and I mean...” She gestures helplessly at the phone and the video that Sardis has, thankfully, paused. You blink, dumbstruck. Aziraphale said something last night about Heaven cutting corners. Apparently they had cut the corners so thoroughly they’d made a circle.

Great.

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

Breakfast suddenly became easier after that. Maybe it was because Sardis was the only one who wasn’t completely despairing over everything, and maybe it was because he was suddenly helping himself to the plates of excess pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Suddenly, you noticed Aziraphale wave a finger and the food was hot again – trying to impress company, or be a good host, or both no doubt. You found that your appetite had suddenly returned, along with your need for caffeine. Even Crowley had grabbed some bacon now that, perhaps, there seemed a less likely chance of him having the choice if he waited any longer. Sardis did most of the talking, explaining that the shortest driving route would take 28 hours. Best to get started asap then.

“I am not listening to anymore of your….Us songs!” Crowley growls at you as soon as you get in the car.

“Not all of them are love songs!” You protest.

“No! No breakup songs either!”

“Fine, fair, but what about -”

“And especially no End-of-the-World songs!” He snarls. You’re pretty sure he’s halfway to hissing at you now. “We have enough of that to deal with assss is!” Ah, there it is.

Ever-so-gently, Aziraphale takes the phone out of your hand.

“Perhaps it’s about time someone else had a turn,” he says. Ah, so he’s finally gotten tired of humouring you and your taste in music. Well, it had to happen eventually.

Unfortunately, this means that you all end up listening to Brandenburg Concerto No 3 in G Major. Well, it could be worse, you figure. At least this song has movement to it, even if it does feel endless based on your musical standards. Crowley is driving and silent, Aziraphale is waving your phone around in the passenger’s seat like a conductor’s baton. The backseat is as follows – You, Sardis, and Anathema.

Yes, Sardis is there. Considering the way he found Jesus – or, Jeremy – so quickly, and the way he seems to be single-handedly keeping everyone’s morale afloat, it seemed a waste to leave him behind. Besides, both Crowley and Aziraphale had tried to make him leave, but he just….stayed. In the end, you pouted, they gave up, and now he’s sitting in the middle of the backseat, because you and Anathema have seniority.

Speaking of Anathema, you notice her very pointedly staring out the window. She looks...stiff. Maybe classical music isn’t her thing? Your suspicions are confirmed approximately nine minutes later when she practically jumps up from her seat and grabs the phone out of Aziraphale’s hand and presses stop. The music comes to a halt and silence fills the SUV. Aziraphale looks shocked and appalled.

“Anathema!” The angel exclaims after a moment. You can practically hear him clutching at his non-existent pearls. You can see him resisting the urge to clutch at his bowtie. “We weren’t even finished the Allegro!”

Anathema takes a deep breath. You’re able to count out a solid beat of ten before she speaks.

“I...am not...listening to classical concertos for 28 hours. I don’t care what key it’s in or how many allegros it’s got!”

Crowley snickers and snorts. “Concertos don’t work like that.” He says. You see Aziraphale gently pat the demon’s knee as if to say ‘that’s my man.’

“Well what would you rather?” Is what Aziraphale actually says, “More bebop?”

“Try me, and I’ll play death metal, I swear I will.”

“Um,” Sardis ventures cautiously, “Can I see that for a minute-- thank you.” He plucks the phone out of Anathema’s hand. After a minute or two of swiping, he taps the screen, and the car fills with songs from well-known musicals. Now, although this isn’t exactly to everyone’s taste, no one can find a good reason to outright hate it. No one can manage to find a good reason not to put up with it, and so by the time Music of the Night has melted into Seasons of Love, everyone has settled down and accepted that things aren’t actually all that bad.

“Impressive,” You mutter, basking in the semi-content vibe. Everyone is still a little on edge, but it feels less intense now.

Sardis smirks. “Six siblings,” he says to you with a small nudge.

“What happened to the others?” Anathema asks, tuning in to the conversation.

“Well,” Sardis sighs, “Of the seven of us - myself, Smyrna, Pergamum, Ephesus, Philadelphia, Thyatira, and Laodicea - Smyrna and Philly were the only ones who didn’t get hate mail. Smyrna was always super into the doctrine. She drank the kool-aid, as the humans here would say, and felt it her calling to ‘return home,’ as she put it. Bullshit, honestly. We weren’t born angels, we were made alongside the churches of Christ. ‘S one of the reasons why they don’t actually give a shit about us.”

“And why you worried that your miracles might get taken away,” You add, putting some of the pieces together. Sardis nods. “Wait, a minute,” You say, “You were made??”

Sardis laughs. “Alright Little Moth, you need to pick a lane here. Do you want to hear about my siblings or how I was born human?”

“You were BORN HUMAN?!” You are practically bouncing right now. What...how… “But you said that you can’t change your species!”

“I said your Miracle Enabler can’t change your species,” He replies with a twinkle in his eyes, “Not that it can’t be done. The seven of us were all born human. We made the first seven churches, so we were made guardians, lower angels. Like...lower than whatever the lowest type of angel you know of is. But we weren’t created as angels like your friends in the front seat.” Movement catches your peripheral vision, and you notice Crowley shifting a little in his seat. No doubt that’s a touchy subject that only Aziraphale is allowed to go anywhere near, but he says nothing. “So they all pretend we don’t exist, and look down on us whenever they need to deal with us. Sort of like we’re --”

“Oh, don’t worry,” You interject, “I read enough fantasy to understand the way magical societies view human-born magic users.” You can imagine that being An Angel of God would probably get old real fast if everyone who was supposed to welcome you actually hated you and made sure you knew it. Goodness knows it got to Aziraphale eventually, makes sense that a human-born angel (a huboan? You’ll work on it) would get sick of it a lot sooner.

“And that’s why I like you Little Moth,” Sardis says with a chuckle and a wink. “Anyway, so I know Smyrna went to Heaven. Philly stayed here. The two of us have always been really close, she stuck with me and we messaged and called and visited all the time until recently. I got some messages from her when the world went nuts during the first apocalypse, but I haven’t heard from her since. She stopped replying to my messages.”

Now it’s your turn to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Your eyes drop to your feet and start to fill with tears, so you change your view to the one outside your window.

“I can relate,” You say after a moment, holding back a sniffle and a sob. Deep breath. “Well, I’m glad you’re sticking with us.” You plaster a smile on your face and turn back to him. “Maybe we can find her.”

He smiles. “That’s what I’m hoping.” For a while, everyone is silent. After a few minutes, Anathema offers to put together a playlist with everyone’s favourite songs. The mood shifts considerably as the five of you spend the next few hours excitedly making musical suggestions.

It’s the best collection of music you’ve ever heard.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Left and Returned: Definitely Nothing Wrong

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Part 2 Part 3

Ao3 (includes additional notes)

Chapter 4

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you guys about time travel." Dean announces at breakfast. 

"Almost wrote yourself out of existence, didn't you?" Danny guesses. 

"Not exactly… but how? How could you possibly guess that ?"

"You have the look. It's awful. Arguably worse than fighting a potential future evil version of yourself."

Dean thinks about that. He compares this experience to the demon him from the dreamroot thing. "...yeah this was definitely weirder."

Danny shrugs.

"So... how did you end up in a time travel adventure last night? I think if the Trickster came back we'd see some more signs." Sam asks.

"Castiel dropped in, confirmed the apocalypse stuff."

"Then dropped you back in time?"

"Yeah... apparently Mom made a demon deal for Dad's life. It's why..." Dean stopped himself, he barely knew Danny, what was he thinking! 

"I know?" Danny offers, looking between Sam and him.

"Right..." Dean continues. He doesn't think Danny will go all Gordon Walker on them, but if he had all the details... Dean isn't giving all the details. "Castiel also said it was Lillith who broke the seal." 

"He's sure?" Sam asks at the same time Danny asks,

"Lilith is a demon right?"

"Yeah, she's a demon, and I don't think Castiel would tell us if he wasn't sure."

"Any problem if I kill her?" Danny asks. And the quick reaction makes Dean glad he didn't elaborate on Sammy's thing.

"We've been trying." Sam tells him. "If you get the chance, please."

Danny gives a thumbs up. And Dean feels sorry that he has to drop the mood even further. "They're trying to release Lucifer."

"What's a Lucifer?"

"Ha ha." Dean says, it would probably be funny if they had any plan for beating 'a Lucifer'. But Danny... he doesn't look like he's joking. Then Sammy's phone goes off and he leaves Dean to deal with this conversation himself. Traitor.

"Lucifer like, The Devil, Lucifer."

"Oh, a name, got it! You have beef with this guy or something? "

"He's going to try to end the world."

"Think he'll be better, or worse at it than The Pariah?"

"Who's the Pariah?"

"... guy who yoinked a small town off the face of the earth for a week? Has a skeleton army?"

"What?! Kid, are you sure you're not talking about a cartoon or something?!"

"It'd be hard to forget, was around the time Vortex did his thing. Actually a lot of stuff happened then, that year was wild."

"Lucifer will have an army of Demons." Dean said, because if he didn't stay focused he was going to end up following Danny’s rabbit trails till the world ended.

"Yeah, that's not ideal. Freeing a lot of possessed people is a lot harder than wack-a-mole skeleton edition."

"I'm not going to ask." Sam returns to the table. He probably came to the same conclusion about Danny's stories a few months ago. "That was Travis, he wants us to look into something."

"Now?" Danny asks.

"Yeah, there's this guy, Jack Montgomery, has something going on with him."

"Okay, 1 problem." Danny continues.

"What kind of problem?"

"Oh, not a problem for you, Dean. But I have a sister, who has this friend, see. And she spent all of yesterday warding off marked spirits, and he hasn't called her back after playing phone tag all day.

Sam swore. Fumbling to get his phone back out of his pocket. His brother had been a mess yesterday. He'd leave a voicemail, but be in a situation while she called back. He'd gotten a voicemail after the witnesses were released, he'd left a voice-mail then too. Apparently, the loverbirds hadn't actually spoken yet.

"Oooh, Sammy's in the doghouse, huh?"

"Not yet, I'm supposed to drag him home first."

Dean grinned, "Do I get to meet the lovely Lady?" 

"I think you'll have too, though seriously, she'll understand it if this is time sensitive. Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all, Sammy's a trouble magnet. He could use all the help he could get."

---

"Don't you love when this stuff mean spying on a man in his own home." Danny deadpans. He's not using the binoculars, holding them like they're personally offensive. 

"There are worse parts of the job." Dean reminds him, Jack Montgomery is rummaging through his fridge. "This guy? I mean this guy's boring"

"I don't know, Dean. Travis seemed pretty sure."

"Did he give any indication of what we're supposed to be— oh."

Oh was correct. Dean watched Montgomery  just abandon the leftovers and start in on a pack of ground beef. Raw ground beef.

"I'd say that qualifies as weird." Sam notes. Like that needed to be said.

---

"Thanks for helping out an old man. I'm a little, uh, shorthanded." Travis lifts his cast covered atm and They laugh politely at the bad joke. Then he gets straight to the point, and Dean's glad they're done pretending to catch up. It's awkward with Danny lurking behind them. "You track down Montgomery?"

"Yeah, we found him at his home." Sam tells him.

"And?"

"Well, he had a hell of a case of the munchies, topped off with a burger he forgot to cook."

"That's him alright."

"What's him?"

"Boys, we got a rougarou on our hands."

"A rougarou?" Dean looks to Sam for a convenient monster summary(or movie title, that would work too.). Sam gives him nothing. "Is that made up? That sounds made up."

"They're mean, nasty little suckers. Rotted teeth, wormy skin, the works." Travis tells them.

"Well, that ain't this guy. I mean, he was wearing a cellphone on his belt."

"He'll turn ugly soon enough. They start out human, for all intents and purposes."

"So, what?" Sam asks, "They go through some kind of metamorphosis?"

"Yep, like a maggot turning into a bull fly."

"No need to be cruel." Danny chides. Travis pauses, looks at Danny with an expression thats not quite a sneer. Dean really hopes that's not gonna become a problem.

"They're hungry things.” Trevor continues, ignoring the kid's glare. “First for everything, until they get a taste for human flesh. Once they get a taste they transform. One bite's all it takes. Eyes, teeth, skin; all turns. No going back either. They feed once, they're a monster forever. And our man Jack's headed there on a bullet train."

"Well, how'd you find this guy if he's a walking, talking human?" Dean demands.

"Lets just say it runs in his family."

"You mean, uh..." Sam trails off.

"Killed his daddy back in '78. Son of a bitch mangled 8 bodies before I put him down. Guy used to be a dentist. Cadillac, trophy wife... Little did I know, pregnant trophy wife. She put the boy up for adoption. By the time I found out, he was long gone, lost in the system."

The air in the room changes, this time in a way that's familiar. The unspoken threat looms... 

"You mean to tell me you couldn't find someone?" Sam asks, undeterred. Sam doesn't feel it.

Travis sighs. "I'm not sure I wanted to. The idea of hunting down some poor kid... I don't think I'd have the heart. No. I wanted to wait, make damn sure I had the right man. Apparently, I do."

The air itself has teeth, and breathing takes effort. Travis doesn't notice either. He takes a swig of his beer.

---

Travis might not notice that Danny is friggen weird, but after the comment earlier he does notice that the kid is incredibly uncomfortable. He singles the kid out to prep the flame throwers, not letting him escape with Sam. 

Dean took a chance and elbowed the kid in his side, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to bruise. Made a face at him and the kid had quit messing with the room's... well, the room's vibes . 

Travis seemed under the impression that Danny was just new to this life, and Dean would prefer to keep it that way.

"So fire, huh?" They'd been subjected to a few stories of past hunts, and the kid had withdrawn more with each of them. Dean wants to change the subject but can't find a natural way to do so.  Better they stay focused on this.

"The only way I found to kill these bastards; deep-fry 'em."

"Well, that's gonna be..." He glanced at the kid. "horrible. Is that what you did to Jack's dad?"

"Uh-huh," Travis starts, and Dean realizes he's  being an idiot. That's just gonna get a more on topic gruesome story, but Sam, best baby brother in the world, saves them. 

He walks through the door with an accusation. "Not wasting any time, are you?" 

"None to waste." Travis informs them. "The guy hulks out, we won't be finding bodies, just remains."

Sam sits down next to the table in a controlled movement. He's forcing himself to act calm. "What if he doesn't hulk out? I did a little homework. Uh, I've been checking out the lore on rougarous."

Danny's head shoots up. It reminds Dean of caged animal seeing possible freedom.

"What? My 30 years of experience not good enough for you?" Travis demands.

"What? No. No, I-I- I just wanted to be prepared. I mean, not that you didn't..."

"Sam loves research. He does. He keeps it under his mattress right next to his KY. It's a sickness." He looks over at Sam, hiding the rescue with some teasing. "It is."

"Look, everything you said checked out, of course, but uh. I found a couple of interesting stories about people who have this rougarou gene or whatever. See, they start to turn, but they never take the final step."

"Really?"

"See, if they never eat human flesh, they don't fully transform." Well, no wonder their monster-adjacent friend is freaked. Maybe he's something similar,  hanging onto his humanity with everything he can? 

"So what? Go vegan, stay human?"

"Basically. Or in this case, eat a lot of raw meat, just not..."

"Right."

"Good on you for the due diligence, Sam." Travis gets up to pace the room. Its unnecessarily dramatic. "But those are fairy tales. Fact is, every rougarou I ever saw or heard of... took that bite."

"Okay, well, that doesn't mean that Jack will." Sam stands too. 

"So what do we do? Sit and hope and wait for a body count?"

"No, we talk to him. Explain what's happening. That way he can fight it."

"Fight it?" Travis laughs. "Are you kidding me? You ever been really hungry? I mean, haven't-eaten-in-days hungry?"

"Yeah." Dean answers, Danny nods too. 

"Yeah. Right then. So somebody slaps a big, juicy sirloin in front of you, you walking away?"

"No," Dean mutters, because he wouldn't.

"Depends.” Danny challenges.” You know what happens if you eat that big hearty meal? If you haven't eaten in days ?"

"Uh, no." Dean was never been allowed to eat what he wants after the few times he'd been starving. 

"You get sick." Sam answers. Ok, that was probably explained to him, he just remembers being hungry and grouchy about it. 

Danny nods, "If you haven't eaten in days, and you have the right information, you eat something small and light that seems unsatisfying until you've gotten it all down.  You don't risk tearing open your stomach lining. And besides! How would you know about rougarou's who don't turn?! People aren't going to announce their fantasies of eating people! They're could be generations who resist and they'd look just like everyone else!"

"And you don't know that they're are." He looks between the two of them. "I'm sorry. I'm sure he's a stand-up guy, but it's pure, base instinct. Everything in nature's gotta eat. You think he can stop himself 'cause he's nice?"

"Coconut milk." Danny declares, and Dean almost laughs. He lets the absurd statement sink in for a moment before he continues. "Coconut milk can be used as a substitute for blood. There are vampires who live off it. They get night jobs, and exist exactly like everyone else. You've had what, twenty years? You've just been waiting for this guy to crack, did you bother to look? Did you ask why a rougarou might crave human flesh? 

“Because when we crave salt, or red meat or whatever, it's usually because the body is lacking in the nutrients it needs! This all might get solved by giving him a vitamin supplement!"

"We try to help him." Sam declares. "And we're not gonna kill him unless he does something to get killed for." 

---

Danny didn't make jokes when talking to Jack Montgomery. The seriousness was almost as jarring as the conversation.

See Dean's plan had gone something like this: 

1.)Tell the guy what he is. 

2.)Convince him they aren't insane.

3.)Tell him not to eat people or they'd be back.

Repeat step 2 as needed.

Danny started similarly, steps 1 and 2 are the same, but step 3...

"You're not alone. There are people I can put you in contact if you want. They might not be the same species, but they'll have similar experiences. They might have other suggestions that will help."

Danny has a list of substitutes, advice, a food journal to track what works better or worse. That conversation leads into another and another of things that might alleviate that hunger. Then how they leave…

"I don't need to tell you why you shouldn't eat human flesh. You obviously already know. But I will warn you about the change. 'A taste' is what the stories say, and I don't know if that means a bite, or mearly a drop of blood, But if the change happens, it cannot be undone."

And Jack nods, solemn. He makes his promise, and he thanks them.

---

It's Mrs. Montgomery who finds them hours later. She finds them by asking the diner's patrons "Who owns that awful van?!"

And Danny, the only one in town with a van that awful, raises his hand. 

She's confused and frantic, but she knows her husband thought they could help with... it's unclear what Jack told her, whether half truth or blatant lie, but now everything has fallen apart. 

---

Travis' car is in the driveway.

They don't have to break into the house. Even if they hadn't had the keys, the back door is already broken in.  

It's not a surprise when they find a body.  It's a carved up corpse not a charcoaled one. 

"What happened?" Danny isn't asking them. 

---

"He's not a hunter, is he?" Dean asks his brother. They watch from a room away as Jack Montgomery and Danny Fenton speak in hushed urgent tones. When Jack had turned into the livingroom, Sam had flinched and Dean had curled his lip in disgust. Danny hadn't reactioned and Jack had noticed. So, now Danny was the only one worthy of whatever this conversation was.

"He calls himself an electrician that knows too much." Sam answers. 

"How much do you know about how he works?"

"...enough.”

"Sam... I don’t think he's human."

Sam looks at him, watches his face as he asks, "and if he's not?"

"I don't know, Sammy. I wouldn't say he's hurting anybody."

"Dean, I think there's some things we need to talk about..."

"What?"

"Not here, not now. " Sam gestured to the bloody mess on the ground and the still blood covered man in the kitchen. "When this is sorted, we need to talk about what happened while you were dead."

---

"He's going to clean himself up and pack." Danny tells them. "Then we're going to pick up his wife, see what she wants to do, then we’re going. I'll meet you at Jazz's."

"You're taking him to the Coconut Vampires." Dean predicted. 

"Yeah." Danny didn't elaborate further. 

"How does that work? What if one of 'em falls off the rails or something?"

"They deal with their own."

"Right... Sam, you still have Lenore's number?"

"Yeah,"

Dean nods to him, and steps back out of earshot. Lenore, the leader of the Cattle-Blood-Instead-of-Human-Blood Vampires, probably needed to be in touch with the Coconut Vampires. Dean never asked Sam where they went, didn't need to know. Dean knew then if he'd known where, he'd be compelled to check in person, and they didn't need him poking through all their business. Sam kept track of the missing persons numbers where they stayed, and they hadn't needed to follow up.

He doesn't have high hopes for Jack, not really, but those two do, and others do. Castiel was right, he doesn't have much faith, and the least he can do to avoid spreading his doubt all over the place. Maybe they'll prove him wrong.

He hopes they prove him wrong.

[starcurtain]

Haikaveh Fics I Want to Read (Part 4)

1. The situation in Sumeru takes an unexpected turn for the worse as both corruption and the Abyss begin to encroach. Nahida foresees a way to protect her beloved nation, but it's going to take both extensive knowledge of King Deshret's records and the mechanical and structural workings of the old desert empire. How convenient that she knows two people who've researched exactly that.

Or: Alhaitham and Kaveh are forced to team up to finally complete the research project that tore their friendship apart years ago--and, in the process, maybe mend a little more than just their unfinished thesis.

And the rest are under the read more:

2. Haunted by his broken relationships and his idealistic dreams of what a proper, happy family should look like, Kaveh is completely blind to what's happening around him in the here-and-now; it takes him far too long to realize that the rowdy gang of people who've carved out niches in his daily life may not resemble the harmony of his childhood home, but are, nonetheless, a family--full of love.

It's just a found family feel-good fic, featuring: An Alhaitham who has been waiting forever for Kaveh to acknowledge his feelings, double date buddies Cyno and Tighnari who don't mean any of their complaints (about Alhaitham, Kaveh, or even each other), a merc who wanders in and out of their lives like a feral cat, a dancer with big dreams and a bigger heart, and two ancient supernatural beings who definitely aren't children but still sometimes really need an open door and a helping hand.

3. It's not a crime to dream, okay?! Kaveh knows he's not getting out of debt any time soon. He won't be able to build the beautiful mansion of his fantasies for a million more years. But that doesn't mean he can't at least plan for it, right? Right? It should have lots of light, and lots of garden space, and a built-in coffee bar, a good place for warm naps, and at least two desks, close to the Akademiya as a mansion can be, and maybe the library should be a little bigger--the Akasha is gone now, that just makes sense--

Or: Kaveh drafts the blueprints for his dream home. It takes him until the very last line to realize that he'd just assumed Alhaitham would also be there.

4. "Alhaitham is the most irritating person on the face of the earth! He's temperamental, deliberately irksome, lazy, and archons forbid you're in conversation range when he comes across something brand new in those books of his--you won't get a word in edgewise for hours!"

"Kaveh... Have you been drinking again? This doesn't sound like Alhaitham at all..."

No matter who he tells, no one seems to believe Kaveh's story that Alhaitham acts totally different around Kaveh than he does around everyone else. But it's true! Kaveh has to live with it everyday! Fed up with being doubted, Kaveh encourages their mutual friends to eavesdrop to prove it once and for all. If they see just how doubly frustrating Alhaitham really is in private, then maybe they'll finally grant Kaveh the commiseration he is due!

Cyno is in it for the blackmail evidence. Tighnari is in it for the betting pool. Aether's always in it, whatever "it" is. Nahida is nosy. Dehya is there for the laughs. And Nilou's not sure how she got involved at all, but she's definitely going to do her best!

(Or: The Sumeru Crew tries their hardest to spy on Alhaitham to prove he's a simp, and it goes exactly as ridiculously as it sounds.)

5. A 5+1 fic that's just a soft compilation of little things Kaveh has adjusted in his daily life to accommodate to living with Alhaitham (and one time Alhaitham returned the favor). They're small gestures, barely noticeable when taken individually-- remembering to stop for takeout on gloomy days because his roommate hates going out in the rain, memorizing the order Alhaitham uses to shelve his books, tip-toeing because Alhaitham always insists on napping in the living room, no more client meetings after 5pm--but together they form the picture of settling down softly, (sort of) easily, into another person's life.

6. After the Interdarshan Championship, Kaveh wades his way through the arduous process of dividing up and donating Sachin's estate, including properties in the Avidya Forest. But on one trip out to survey land, a run in with Ruin machines leaves Kaveh and Mehrak both worse for the wear. Injured and at the mercy of the jungle, far from help, Kaveh fears the worst--until he encounters a strange, cabbage-shaped creature that seems (if he's understanding its odd way of speaking) like it wants to help. Little does Kaveh know that "help" from an aranara may involve solving endless ancient puzzles, diving into the unfathomable world of dreams--and finding out things about his father that he never could have learned by himself.

Meanwhile, Alhaitham is a rational, calm individual who is most definitely not worried about his roommate disappearing while dealing with a nihilist's estate. He's absolutely not taking time off from his work duties to scour the forest for signs of a missing architect. And he certainly isn't forming any advanced conspiracy theory about forest fairies spiriting people away. Obviously not.

(Or: Kaveh is rescued in the jungle by the same aranara his father befriended decades ago, allowing him to heal some wounds both physical and mental. Meanwhile, suddenly finding himself alone opens up some wounds Alhaitham didn't know he had.)

+1, where Haikaveh isn't the main focus but is definitely still in the background:

A slight canon-divergent AU where, during the Interdarshan Championship, that weird "Hat Guy" takes an unintentionally fierce blow from Cyno and receives a wound that definitely... does not look like something a human being might experience. Kaveh notices and, in typical empathetic fashion, can't let it go--if he hadn't distracted Cyno with all his flailing, that injury might never have happened, so Kaveh's at least got to offer to help this (probably not-quite-human) stranger, right? There isn't any form of engineering on Teyvat that Kaveh can't manage, after all!

It's... easier said that done to actually corner the weird Wanderer, and even easier said than done to get him to agree to Kaveh's checks. But that difficulty is nothing compared to handling the history of abuse writ plain upon the puppet body's inner-workings or the story of centuries of grief the boy finally deigns to share.

Kaveh knows a thing or two about suffering, but there are some things no heart--however much the Wanderer claims to lack one--should have to bear.

If there's one thing Wanderer doesn't trust, it's generosity. If this gullible fool thinks he'll be allowed to fix all the damage Dottore left just completely free of charge, well, he has another thing coming. Say what you want about Wanderer, but he pays his debts.

Or: An odd-friendship fic where Kaveh fixes Scaramouche's injuries-- the ones that can be seen and even some that can't--and Scaramouche pays him back by trying help solve some of Kaveh's problems too, starting with the big, tactless one known as Scribe Alhaitham.

(Archons above, humans are stupid and the struggle is real.)

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Gabriel vs Chloe/Lila

I used to frequent the Miraculous subreddit (biggest mistake of my life) to see others opinions on Seasons 4 and 5. One question I would see pop up usually is as follows:

Why do people think Chloe/Lila is worse than Gabriel?

The common answer I’ve seen is that bullying and isolation are issues that the audience can relate to, something that’s more down to earth and closer to a viewer’s potential issues. Gabriel, meanwhile, is a supervillain who makes other ridiculously costumed supervillains when they feel bad, his situation was farther out, less relatable, so hammed up at times (cartoon and all) that people would take it less seriously.

And honestly? I completely understood this answer: many viewers’ overwhelming hatred of Chloe and Lila, from what I’ve seen, stemmed from personal relation to their victims, and their own experiences with bullies. It’s completely understandable why people would feel this way.

But then I thought about it for a second, and while I still understand that reasoning, I don’t understand it in any other context.

I mean, I’ve seen people on there genuinely say that Gabriel had more redeeming qualities than them, which confuses me. Lila I kind of understand, I mean we know literally nothing about this character, and the fandom reason of “she lies for attention because her mother is barely home”, which would give her sympathy, was a little… muddled, when it’s revealed she has 3 moms that she’s somehow lying to about being their daughter (what on earth) and has multiple identities. But Chloe? Season 2-3 was showing that she did have redeeming qualities, that she cared about people (few but regardless), she was even able to suck up her own pride when being a hero! Gabriel… He’s an odd case in which the story goes back and forth on whether he’s an awful irredeemable monster, or flawed but sympathetic dad trying his best, while also flip flopping on when exactly they want you to believe as much. Right now? He’s horrible, but the narrative want you to believe he’s just “trying his best” and thinks that he somehow has the room to ask Marinette to “tell Adrien to remember all the times I was a good father” (Marinette should’ve spat on his statue ngl)

Also, Gabriel is a neglectful, dare I say abusive father! Literally mind controls his son and is trying to control him to have the “destiny” that HE wants, not caring about his son at all. He literally pretends to bond with him at one point in Season 5 just so he could give him an alliance ring and walk off smirking, planning on akumatizing him (never brought up again btw). Like, I get that Hawkmoth is more of a hammy cartoon villain, and a lot of those aspect spill into Gabriel (I mean he had a silly stupid number near the beginning of season 5 that I hate to love). But the Gabriel half is genuinely horrible, and those aspects spill into Hawkmoth. Akumatizing, physically abusing your son, and ruining his relationship to akumatize his girlfriend in Chat Blanc, emotionally manipulating him with his dead mother in both Chat Blanc and Ephemeral, literally any time he causes an akuma on purpose by ruining the life of someone he used to be close with or personally knows (the comedian, Andre, anyone working under him), emotionally manipulating his son AGAIN just so he could plan to akumatize him later, locking him up in a white room and emotionally depriving him of everything, literally everything he does in season 5 actually. I understand that some of his more atrocious actions are supervillain things, and that could be more difficult to relate to real life problems. But come on, “neglectful, abusive, controlling parent” is absolutely a real life issue that people have, and it’s a bit strange I haven’t seen that brought up more often

I’m not saying that Chloe and Lila are saints by any means at all! But I am just saying that’s it’s kind of funny that people will say, with their whole chest, that vindictive bullying is actually worse than terrorism and abusing your child, and the idea that the narrative could agree with this scares me

[catchyhuh]

Z. ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?

NO none of them would hide a zombie bite. yes, they are all not super great people and certainly nobody the average motherfucker would want to be stuck with during the end of the world but they aren’t THAT selfish!

these are kind of more of a bummer than i expected/intended umm i don't think they need any. tws or anything but just. general warning. WARNING: kind of a bummer

lupin:

does not entirely take the reality of the situation seriously at first. i know sometimes i lean too much into silly unbothered-by-it-all lupin, but really, in this situation, he’s going to be so disbelieving in the initial stages that he’d waltz up to one, go “wow! the makeup department is even better this time around!” and nearly get his pinky finger bitten off. THEN he locks down

still a bit more reckless than he should be, but that’s just because honestly he has the skills to back him up. he’s like sitting on top of a building with his legs dangling over the edge, a pack of zombies under him just BARELY missing his dinky little shoes, and when jigen comes over and goes DUDE he’s like WHAT? WHAT’RE THEY GONNA DO

if it’s taking any mental toll on him, beyond the, y’know, WILD AMOUNT OF DEATH AND DECAY SURROUNDING THEM, it’s very muted. his pleasant attitude isn’t really a fabrication, but beyond that, lupin never really lets himself linger on “who could’ve been saved” for his own sanity. there’s always a few examples that hit, not including the times he’s thought his friends have died (but he’s also strangely passive and accepting about their death while grieving in those situations too BUT THAT’S FOR ANOTHER TIME) but more than the weird, isolated feeling an apocalypse brings, if anything is going to keep him up for an hour or two longer than usual once a week, it’s going to be the amount of people disappearing

jigen:

very much the most blunt about it as he is with most things. what this really means though is, while all of them would stare at you flatly if you tried to call them anything BUT zombies, jigen is the only one who will actually lean his head back, his hands covering his face, and groan, “oh my fucking god”

jigen is already a bit of a… kind of “made his peace with it” nihilist, compared to the others. jigen was never into this great cool thief thing because it would get his name in really, this isn’t going to change things up for him too much, as he only really likes less than ten people on planet earth total, most of which he never sees anyway, he’s not really tied down to one spot, he doesn’t seem too bothered with chilling out by himself for a bit, he keeps watch when the others are sleeping anyways, REALLY, THIS ALL LINES UP WITH HIS RESUME PRETTY WELL

REALLY ALL THINGS CONSIDERED A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE GOES ABOUT AS WELL AS IT POSSIBLY CAN FOR A GUY LIKE HIM. even beyond taking the above into account, he’s. the gun guy. he knows how to use almost every kind of gun. the primary, most effective way to take out zombies. like jeez man he’d just be coasting through this

the only thing that could really make this have an effect on him is if one of the others got infected. he’d act irrationally, for once, maybe try to hide them away and figure out where some kinda cure was coming, but if it really was too late, he’d be just as capable of the mercy gunshot to the headTHESE ARE SUCH CHEERFUL HCS

fujiko:

my man this woman is just numb past a point. you think a zombie apocalypse is changing her tuesday plans? well, maybe it will a little, granted that the restaurant she was planning to go to caught fire and exploded but um. MENTALLY, EMOTIONALLY, it’s whatever! like on any given day, her only concern outside of herself is lupin n the gang, because deep down she enjoys the company of these weirdos, and more than that, what’s more miserable than attempting to survive a zombie apocalypse? surviving it by YOURSELF

not to reduce the Girl One to the Girl Traits (god knows tms does that enough!) but joking aside her first response is definitely a muted “eugh. gross.” like let’s be honest everyone is thinking it when they see a guy who’s jaw is hanging off the tendon but only fujiko can say what everybody’s thinking, smelling that rotten skin and just seeing the state of the environment and corpses walkin about. and that thing is “Yuck.”

the whole “self-serving cool one woman band” thing doesn’t totally work in a societal collapse unfortunately, but it does add a necessary layer of realism to the situation. fujiko isn’t hiding a bite. NOT THAT SHE’D MANAGE TO GET BIT LMAO but in the event of she would just look at it, like on her arm, pause, and hold it out for the others to see. no point pretending nothing’s wrong and if the shoe was on the other foot she’d rip a guy limb from limb if they didn’t disclose that information lol

goemon:

somebody is going to have to get used to long range combat really fucking quickly because otherwise things are going to get bad INCREDIBLY FAST. he’s likely never going to pick up a gun even in a situation like this, but maybe he’ll take up throwing axes or some shit. maybe some robin hood shit? anything to stay loyal to the grind

this might be the thing it takes to make goemon really, truly break out of his shell. ISN’T THAT INSANE TO SAY and make no mistake, it’s not a complete 180 on the goemon we know and love, nothing that’d make the others turn around and look him over like ‘what. thing has possessed you’, but suddenly you start to become more talkative and less ambiguous when you realize this could genuinely be the last time you see your best friend. 

yknow what though. those “my grandma said xyz helps with the flu” remedies would probably be pretty damn helpful in this situation. but make no mistake goemon’s first course of action is “raid a walgreens” and THEN we can move onto “mint helps with nausea.” seriously though it really does and i have to imagine 90% of people would be pretty damn nauseous being surrounded by the grossness of a situation like this! get a nice mug get some mint tea and then get to sippin!

hey. not to bring up the sword twice but can zantetsuken-fueled amputation stop the spread of a zombie bite infection. let’s find out! it’d be such a precise, clean job too, very reliable. actually can you fucking imagine being the other person in that situation, getting your arm cut off in a zombie apocalypse, and then the guy calls it “a worthless object.” i’d hop off the table and start shouting

zenigata:

i know i said all of them are assholes and yes this includes him but being completely transparent he’s GOING to die protecting somebody if nobody stops him. you ever see that bit in alcatraz connection where he tells lupin to shoot him through the heart point blank just because it will ALSO take down the bad guy who was holding him captive? you see the way he panics and throws himself in front of just anything when he sees somebody even SLIGHTLY weaker in danger? oh he’s going to die BUT NOT IF OUR OTHER GUYS HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT! BECAUSE LET’S BE HONEST HE IS VALUABLE

he can make all those trinkets and shit, he’s a medical miracle, his voice carries from across HUGE distances, he has an incredible talent for showing up in places he should not at all be able to get into somehow-- there’s lots of plausible deniability to “why did you guys show up” without any of the four flatout admitting that they kind of like him sometimes :) 

again we are locking the FUCK down. you ever marathon part 2 and then get randomly hit with sudden excruciatingly serious zeni. okay imagine that that switch kind of busted and now rather than that being the exception, goofy zeni is the new rare sighting. i know, i know, truly i’m forcing you to imagine dark times. but really man i’m serious if the gang or yata doesn’t get a grip on him first he’s GOING to DIE

anyway speaking of our guy i was going to include yata too and then realized he doesn’t deserve the misery i accidentally placed on these guys. I JUST LIKE ZOMBIE MOVIES I DIDN’T MEAN FOR THIS TO GO SO SOMBER I PROMI

[dualityvn]

Slightly tears up, before motioning for Keith to step even closer

"Oh, flowerboy

I may not be able to touch you more than I already have for today, I'm sorry. But let it be so you will be forced to hear me clearly.

Tenebris will never scare me away. Hell, even when confronted with him, I chose to face my fears and speak my mind. Sure, I could have probably found a way to get him to switch back. Yet I wanted him to know the truth. I didn't want him to doubt for a second longer my intentions towards you. And yes it was a silly idea, it could have gone terribly bad, but I don't regret it one bit. You may not care right now much, but I do. I want one day for tenebris to actually approve of me being in a relationship with you. And I won't stop until he is finally forced to acknowledge my efforts in this connection with you and my love for you in the future. It's a silly notion, but one that forces me to try harder every time.

For you deserve to be with someone who will one day cast away any doubts you have and love you for you. And although I don't know Tenebris that much and he scares the living hell out of me, I know I can trust him that should I ever be truly unfit for you, he'll either beat some sense to me or force us apart until I realize my mistakes and come back to you. Because Keith Madden, us being together is inevitable. All paths that I can take right now, no matter how different, will always lead me back to you.

And I'm not sure, for me it sounds way too easy to put the blame all on tenebris. What if those people you did meet just weren't the ones? If the foundations between two people were so strong as you believe, would they easily be as broken as they are as of now? Tenebris scared the living hell out of me as well, probably in the worst situation he has ever done so far judging by the context, yet I'm still sitting here with you. I'm standing right next to you, chest to chest, even though for all I know he could come out at any time. Why do you think that is?

You're so silly and oblivious, flower boy. I could have literally run away while you were waiting for me, I could have made an excuse and left. You wouldn't have done anything, and we both know it. So, why do you think, I'm placing my own life right between your hands? Why am I allowing myself to be this vulnerable with you, knowing full well where it led me in the past?

Because I already trust you, silly. I trust your words, I trust your every action. I trust you, Keith Madden. Maybe more than myself at times. Why else would I even move into your guys' house despite Tenebris. Even though, we barely have placed a label and undoubtedly have gone on zero dates. Naivety? Perhaps. And maybe it's really too soon to give my trust to you this freely, but something deep down tells me I won't regret this.

And if there is one thing I know, it's that my gut feeling has never been wrong. It won't start being wrong about a guy who is so kind, sweet, understanding towards me, even when I majorly fuck up. A man who spends hours making sure his plants are properly cared for and makes a list of every single thing I dislike or like. The type of guy that reads books in his spare time somehow without getting bored while also somehow tolerating the horrible puns I make.

So no, Keith Madden, I fear you're stuck with me for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future. And maybe it's about time, you start getting used to it. I'm unfortunately staying right where I am, next to you. Through thick and thin. There's nothing you can do that will push me away, and I will gladly spend all my remaining days on earth repeating those words until you believe them as the truth, all on your own."

"I- I don't know what to say. For a while, I thought you were coming around and helping out because you wanted to make up for what you said before. I mean... I was really hoping you felt this way, but I thought it was false hope. But... but I do want to be together! And go on dates. I would've asked sooner, I just wasn't sure. I didn't want to rush you." - Keith

[halfetirosie]

✩‧₊˚ Let's Get Confused!!! :D ✩‧₊˚

(Star Message 01 - 05 React-os!)

1) Wait, so you're telling me that Blade's storytelling put kids to sleep???

That's quite odd!

I mean, yeah, a lot of what he was saying was confusing the kids. But I would think that, with how animated Blade was being, it would still be entertaining enough to keep them awake. 🤷‍♀️

It's funny how polite Olivine is being about it---spinning it into a positive outcome. Bless your little heart!

2) Uh-oh! My workaholic wife is back at it again! 😂

My mans really does overwork himself...

If I were the Captain, I would've forced a ton of vacations onto him, too! :D

I personally can't really relate to this side of Edmond's personality---the obsession with his work. I'm the kind of person that has had to do way more work than I was comfortable doing in the past, to the point that my personal life was non-existent, but as soon as it wasn't necessary to have such a large workload I didn't push myself to keep up that insane schedule.

Edmond, on the other hand, has just gotten so used to constantly working, that at this point it's difficult to stop...

Maybe it's because he had that sort of schedule for even long than I ever did, since he's a noble? That, combined with his natural integrity/work ethic?

3) Eiden out here validating the fans' comments about the space-appropriateness of their clothes---

---and Blade giving a very reasonable explanation---

I like to think the the tailor also has a devious mind, determined to bring out the maximum sexy-potential of each project they receive (even if their "added elements" will require them to do an additional wardrobe-change later)!

It's also very possible that Eiden's collaborations with them have tainted their formerly-innocent tastes...

😈😈😈😈😈

4) Edmond, sweetie---no offense, but HOW is this any more scandalous than your usual outfits??? 🤨

Is it because your stomach is showing?---No, that can't be it, because the ceremonial clothes in his Knightly Night SSR show his stomach.

Is it because your shoulders are bare?---No, because the shirt in the prison guard outfit of Vigilant Observer is sleeveless...But then again, perhaps the guards are expected to keep that jacket/overshirt on over the sleeveless shirt, so maybe that really is the reason???

I AM CONFUSION!!!

EDMOND, PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT YOU CONSIDER "MODEST!"

It is quite nice seeing Blade and Eiden being so supportive to Edmond, tho.

They see him feeling a little uncomfortable, and Blade immediately reassures him [of the clothes' utility] while Eiden hypes him up. It's so sweet!!!

5) Blade and his not-at-all worrying ideas °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:��

Can I just say---I LOVE the fact that Edmond takes Blade's question seriously.

I (along with many other fans) see Blade as strong representation for neuro-divergent individuals; and IRL, many such people act "eccentric" or ask questions that people think are "silly/weird."

So, Edmond taking Blade seriously---just like he treats everything/everyone seriously---without getting angry or annoyed is such a delight! We love to see it!

6) I love it when Blade hops into Robo Mode at the most unexpected times!

It's funnier when the situation is less serious than this, but hey, I still enjoyed it!

Also, the voice-acting bit during this part was fantastic. Blade's voice sounds so cool!

7) Blade, honey---are you telling me you can catch a FUCKIN METEOR all by yourself????

BRUH.

I knew he was built to be a hella-strong sorcerer-murderer robot, but putting his strength in the context of earth-science terms makes it even more insane.

8) It's quite impressive how nonchalant blade is being about all of this... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Like, he and Edmond just stopped a FUCKIN METEOR from crashing into the tower and killing people, and he's over here cracking little jokes!

What a legend!

9) So, as soon as I saw this---

---for some reason, I immediately thought of this;

Which is a fine and dandy meme, but I'd say that Blade is completely justified in his assumption that the thingy from the sky is alien tech; it isn't a crackpot theory, an thus, I wouldn't say this meme is completely applicable... But maybe I'm just being too picky with my meme-etiquette. :D

10) Wait, so this isn't even the first time that "starscape creatures" have sent a message to Klein?

🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

But from what I've gathered so far, the message is just supposed to be a sort of audio message---so how does he know about what kind of environment the starscape creatures live in???

Does the audio talk about where they live??? Do they speak the same language as they do in Klein, or is it somehow possible to interpret the alien language when given no context/prior exposure to that language????

11) Rei, no offense, but you kinda suck at explaining things....

Seriously.

WAT? ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ?

Am I just stupid, or did Rei just say the same thing twice but in different ways?

I can't be the only on that doesn't get it, right?

Would this make more sense if I knew more about audio transfer, or like, how radio works???

12) *Voice dripping with sarcasm:*

Oh boy, how reassuring! 😂😂😂

I know for a fact Rei is perfectly capable of making people feel better, but I guess he ain't feeling very charitable right now! (Which, I would think he would be, since they brought him an interesting new thing to research...)

★ End of report! ★