#behold the classing of two of my favorite things

[embrysunrise]

*audible sweating* w-what if Urianger wore a wedding dress

[secretlovezz]

hiiiii, congrats on 1k I love your writing smm!!!

Could I please request an Eddie Munson fic with a female reader where they’re best friends and have a Horror Movie Friday every week, and at this one, she ends up sleeping over? Thank you! 💕

Scary Movie?

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: none really just fluff

Wordcount: 1059

A/N: hope I did well on your request, I'm honored that you enjoy my little writings <3

Friday has always been your favorite day of the week.

When you were little it always signified the end of the school week, free from classes with rowdy students and teachers that couldn’t control them, and though this was still a good reason for making it such a wonderful day it got even better after you met Eddie.

Eddie Munson the resident “freak” at Hawkins high and your best friend had declared Friday night as movie night not too long into your abruptly formed friendship. Every week you would head to his trailer with a wide smile on your face, a pizza, drinks, or snacks in hand and prepare for a night of random movies- almost always scary and meant to scare your socks off in a way that always made Eddie cackle- and fun. 

This week it was your turn to pick a movie and though you knew Eddie wouldn’t really like it you were fine with that as long as you didn’t have to sit through Poltergeist again.

“So what has the lady brought for us to watch this week?” Eddie sighs dramatically as he plops himself on the couch beside you, throwing his arm lazily around your shoulders to bring you closer to him. You move his arm off of you to stand and he frowns groaning at the unintentional rejection.

But you smile in thought at what reaction he might have as you dig through your bag for the movie you rented ignoring his dramatics in the background. Grin widening when you grab it and whip it into the air excitedly, “Behold! The glorious film of-,” Eddie cuts you off as he reads the title deadpanned and a little annoyed no longer into the playful mood he had just been in less than a minute ago, “Gremlins? Are you serious? We’re supposed to be watching scary movies.”

Eyes rolling at him as you pop open the case to insert the movie into the player insisting, “Gremlins is totally a scary movie those little fuckers are nightmare fuel and you know it.” you swing the case to point at him as you finish speaking. Eddie crosses his arms and pouts like a child mumbling something about how they are in fact not scary and he could totally beat them but you once again ignore his antics and insert the movie. 

Walking back over to the couch you throw yourself onto it and wrap your arm around him to pull his slouched body over to you similarly to what he had done to you only minutes before. He sighs giving in almost immediately and grabs onto your legs to pull them into his lap rubbing your leg up and down with his cold hands sometimes pitching at your sweatpants. Your head rests on his shoulder rubbing your cheek against the warn fabric of his band-tee while his own cheek rests against your hair, face a little covered by the wildness of it.

The two of you watch the movie but not without Eddie's quips and mumbles about how stupid it is and soon enough you're both half asleep as the credits roll up with the names of actors and producers.

You yawn and so does he, moving to stretch your hand bumps a little roughly against Eddie’s chin and you laugh.

“I know I made fun of your choice of movie but you didn’t have’ta hit me for it,” he grumbles to which you roll your eyes and reason, “If you weren’t so close to me all the time I wouldn’t have done that.” He pinches your side and gets up doing an exaggerated stretch of his own.

As you get up to gather your things Eddie watches you brows furrowed and eyes squinted as you throw your- once his- sweater into your tote bag and he looks out the window then looks back at you. “Y’know you could just stay over, right? I mean it's pretty late and- and I think Wayne wouldn’t mind… he likes you.” He finishes his sentence with a shrug with his hand rubbing shyly on the back of his heating neck. You look at him, contemplating, and look out the window then back at him. He’s right it's late and you suck at driving at night, Eddie likes to tease and ask how you even got your license.

“Oh! Uhhh sure why not?”

The grin that appears on his face makes you feel like you’re looking at the sun- he’s absolutely beaming at you.

“Perfect! I mean cool- yeah yeah cool, um you can take the bed and i’ll sleep out here.” A giggle leaves from your lips at his poorly hidden excitement. “Or and hear me out here,” Eddie raises a singular brow anticipation for your next words over shadowing his previous embarrassment, “we share the bed. I mean the two of us could totally fit, right?” 

The flush that overtakes your best friend's face makes you giggle once more, grabbing his hand to lead him to the room as he sputters out nonsense along the way. You think this is your new favorite version of him, shattering his cocky-ness to reveal a flustered mess.

When you two make it to the room you drop his hand and toss yourself down onto his blanket covered mattress sighing as you make contact with the plushness of it.

Gathering one of his pillows in your arms and letting your head fall onto it you finally turn to him, “c’mon you're the one that said it was late, I’m tired.” He’s moving before the words even finish leaving your mouth throwing himself on top of you lazily, “you’re right,” he lets out a faux yawn, “It’s sooooo late and I’m sooooo tired.” His arms wrap around your torso tightly and shoves his face into the crook of your neck- already he was back to his normal self. You cackle and try to push him off but it’s no use because he uses all of his strength to keep you pressed against him.

He only loosens his grip to let you twist in his hold to face him, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala. “Love you.” The words are whispered so gently against the shells of his ear that he almost doesn’t hear you but he does.

“Love you too”

[cynthinesia]

Heartfelt Gratitude Of Loving Me

In which they receive a gift from you...

🦁 Leona Kingscholar 🦁

He had just woken up from another nap when he heard your footsteps coming closer. Ah yes, one of the best things to have when you wake up; your (s/o) by your side.

He lazily hugs you with an arm on your waist when you sit near him. You stroke his head, resulting in him purring a little. (Lions do purr, believe me or not!)

He smells the air for a few moments, because along with your scent there is another. And it smells like tender, delicious meat.

He turns his head to you as you take out something from a paper bag; the source of that scent.

Aaaaaand.... It’s a meat sandwich!

“Is it for me?” He smugly asks while eyeing you.

You nod, of course it’s for him! Who else would make something that contains his favorite food? And you tell him that this is a small token of appreciation for loving you.

He laughs and pats your head then he takes a bite out of it. ...It’s well cooked too!

“So, do you like it?” You ask.

Instead, he replies with a kiss since his mouth is full.

When he backs off, you can see him smiling at you. He seems to like your gift! 😊

Achievement Earned: The Way To His Heart ❤️

🐆 Ruggie Bucchi 🐆

He was sitting on a bench to rest after a tiring day when you approached him with a paper bag with something special in it.

Wait a minute, the bag on your hand smells divine! Could it be that you brought him what he thinks it is?!

You smile and kiss him on the cheek while putting the bag on his lap, and being the hungry boy he is, he breaks the kiss when he notices the bag on his lap.

He literally tears the bag apart to notice a box. Lo and behold; it’s a box full of doughnuts!

As he gobbles them he smiles at you with mouth full of them, wondering how did he get so lucky to be loved by you.

When he is done eating the doughnuts, he jumps onto you and starts to kiss your face as you playfully laugh and ruffle his hair.

You are certain that he will return to favor by bringing you your favorite food some time later~

Achievement Earned: Doughnut Sized Heart ❤️

🍎 Epel Felmier 🍎

He was sitting on his desk studying when you came to him with a surprise; a huge slice of apple pie!

He was surprised to say the least, especially after getting an earful from Vil.

The next thing you knew after putting the plate on his desk was him just tackling you.

He hugged you tightly as to not let you go, obviously overjoyed.

You hugged him back, not as tight, and kissed him on the forehead.

You can definitely say he absolutely loved your little treat. 🤭

Achievement Earned: Country Boy, Take Me Home

♦️ Cater Diamond ♦️

He was scrolling through his phone in his room, in his little world when you came to him with two bowls. He had a frown on his face though...

You sighed, wondering what could make him to sad, and left them to bring something else.

He turned his gaze to you when you brought in a kettle with hot water in it.

Then his eyes caught a familiar sight of the package; two packs of spicy ramen.

“I was thinking of trying these with you...” You said with a giggle.

“It’s okay baby~” He put his phone down with a smile and kissed you.

You calmly put the ramens in your bowls and put the water, carefully as to not burn your hands, while Cater put the spices and prepared the chopsticks.

As you ate them together, you kissed him on the corner of his lips, making his cheeks flush deeper in response. This seems like it cheered him up.

As he is done with his bowl, he grabs your chin and kisses you on the lips.

★ Cater will definitely remember that.

Achievement Earned: Baby, You’re My Angel 💕

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

It was after you were done with your classes when he found you making your way to Diasomnia. So he decided to watch you for a while...

As you enter the hallway by pushing the door open, the candles suddenly lit up. He was there, waiting for you with a smirk...

Needless to say, you are surprised. But after you collect yourself, you walk up to him. He runs to you and tackles you down, knocking the bag and its contents in the process...

He notices the said contents, that being two glasses of tomato juice with sandwiches, spilling out and messing up the floor...

“I wanted to surprise you, but I think you did it first.” You said, a little upset... but then he lifts you up.

“It is not a problem for me at all, my dear~” He smiles as he brings you to the kitchen.

While being in there, he takes out a carafe full of tomato juice from the fridge. Your eyes widen.

“Did you have this much juice already?!” You yell, clearly SHOOK, to which he replies, “Why yes, I had. Why wouldn’t I?”

You look down in disappointment while he gives you a glass and smooches you on the lips. 🥰

“You needn’t have to give me anything, you are the biggest gift to me.” He says, caressing your cheek.

You can’t seem to decide whether you want to kiss him or kick him in the nuts... But hey, he seems happy!

Achievement Earned: I Just Want Your Heart

🦦 Kalim Al-asim 🦦

He was sitting in cafeteria, unusually alone, and eating his lunch when you approached him with a paper bag... He looked so sad. :(

You sit beside him with your plate and he immediately hugs you tightly and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Kalim, are you alright?” You ask him as you are worried, but he doesn’t answer. He just stays still like that.

“Jamil’s sick today, so he can’t be here... But hey, at least you’re here now!” He says with a smile on his face.

You slightly frown and kiss his cheek as you take out your surprise from the paper bag. His eyes catch the familiar sight of a brown fuzz as it becomes more clear; it’s coconut juice in a cup that resembles a coconut!

“Is that for me?!” He yells, getting the attention of some students. He snatches the cup and immediately opens it. You give him the straw that comes with it.

“Well, Cater and I were visiting a cafe the other day and I wanted to get something for you as well.” You pat his head. “I know Jamil’s not here to bring you coconut juice, but I did.. You looked like you needed it so- Wait, are you crying?!”

He was, indeed, crying... He puts the cup to the side and throws his arms around your neck.

“(Y/N)!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUUUUUUUCH!!!” He says while his tears wet your chest. You rub his back and kiss him on the top of his head.

A few days later, you hear a knock on your door. When you open it, you see Kalim standing there with the huge smile on his face. He grabs your face and kisses you on the lips before you can register what’s going on.

Before you know it, he brings you outside and you see a huge pile of gifts, all of them being your favorite ones... Your jaw nearly drops when he asks you this, “Did you like it (Y/N)? 😁”

You just stand there, trying to comprehend everything.

Achievement Earned: Anything For Your Love

If you like my writing, would you be kind enough to reblog it as well? I want more people to see it! 🥺✨

[kassiekole22]

At First Sight

Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: On a mission to cause a great diversion, Syzoth gets distracted when he lays eyes on a gorgeous woman who sits all alone at one of her family's biggest festivals.  Warnings: None... Word Count: 508 A/N: I'm sorry this turned out so short. I didn't know how far I could go with this, especially since I wrote the first fic before watching the game. So I tried to keep the reason he was there discreet so it would make sense for both my story and the canon story. But I'd be willing to do a part two where it fits in with the canon storyline, if that's what you guys want. Anyway, more Syzoth x Fem!Reader requests are coming soon. 💚 Main MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @bihansthot, @katiralovely, @queenkhepri, @blackbunnymayw, @simpforhotmaskedmen, @theleftkittycollection, @kiashines. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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As soon as my feet touched the shingles of the roof, I was on the run. I scurried across as fast as I could before stopping at the very edge and looking below to see if I had been noticed. Fortunately, everyone was too busy enjoying their time at some festival the royals had thrown. Everyone danced and mingled with each other without a single care disturbing their perfect night. For a moment, I pondered what it would be like if I was able to do that with my people — to be one with them once again — but I knew that would never happen; that was just the sad truth.

I shook myself out of my moment of reflection before turning back to my mission, since this was clearly no time to be taking my mind away from it. So I waited and watched on the rooftop, studying everything below me and trying to decide where and when it would be best to cause my diversion. Everybody was heavily distracted with dancing and talking with their friends and family so I decided that now was the best time to make my first move, but then my eyes landed upon someone different.

A young girl — dressed in a beautiful (favorite color) dress with her hair done all up — sat alone with a rather melancholy expression etched on her features. In fact, she seemed to have no desire to participate in her people's antics at all. She looked too rich to be a normal lower-class person like the others surrounding her, so I figured she was a part of the royal family. But what I didn't understand was why she seemed so down and... Alone.

It was a moment that I was grateful that one of my Zaterran abilities was brilliant sight, so I could see every detail of her — the way her eyebrows turned up due to sorrow, her pink lips forming a straight line until she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her beautiful (E/C) eyes twinkling under the lanterns' light — she truly was a sight to behold.

I watched her patterns for a moment — watched how she slowly brought her drink to her lips every minute or so and how she nervously played with the few strains of hair that fell gracefully over her shoulder. It was as if everything she did — even the most natural things known to her kind — were done in the most beautiful way. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster by the second and then when I got that burning desire to be near her and never far from her presence, I realized that she was the one. I just had to have her all to myself.

I wanted to learn more about her; I had to… Soon. But for the time being, I had to finish my mission. It was too important to let anything distract me from it, no matter how beautiful the distraction may be. Maybe once the fire is out and the smoke is cleared, I'll see the beauty once again.

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[lilisette]

Masks Under the Chandelier | Caleb/Reader

About: A fic idea wherein you and Caleb meet months later in a gala. To you, this person is a stranger you just met. But to this person, you were more than that...

Pairing: Caleb/Reader

Notes: Might actually write this tbh... Caleb is my favorite ngl hahaha...

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 4! Please do not read if you haven't read it yet!

Imagine there is a gala or some high class event where you have to attend, perhaps as part of the event's security detail. With all the Metafluxes and Wanderers going about, it's important that the organizers call a few hunters to protect them from harm. But them going in uniform will no doubt alert the guests so you have to go undercover and dress up in a formal party outfit, a gown or whatever you wish to wear.

And by chance, because of all the important people there, the organization that kidnapped Caleb (since he is not dead idc what the game says) is invited to attend too. So they send Caleb, undercover of course, to attend.

Caleb donned a new persona, dyed his hair, wear contacts and all to ensure no one would recognize him. He attends and lo and behold, he bumps into you while wandering the event hall.

While Caleb has a new persona, his voice is still unchanged and when Caleb, in shock, whispers your nickname, cause- wow you looks amazing-, you turn toward him in shock and-

"Pipsqueak?" "Caleb?" "I-" Caleb almost responded to your call, but quickly remembered that he isn't Caleb now... He could never be anymore. "Sorry miss...?" The hope that was evident in your eyes dimmed, and his heart broken all over again when your eyes softened, a sad smile gracing your face. "I'm sorry, I thought... I thought you were someone I knew for a moment." You said, the distance between you and him so close, yet so far. There was an invisible wall between you and him now, and he hated it.

You and him talk for a bit, about why you both were there. Caleb keeps getting distracted by you because he has never seen you like this before, dolled up and oh so beautiful under the crystal chandeliers. There were many times where he almost slipped up and mention something that only the both of you know, but he caught himself. And god does he hate it. He's your best friend from childhood dammit (yes zayne exists but he likes to think you prefer him over zayne), why can't he...

Why can't he be close to you anymore?

It's ironic, Caleb thought, that you were telling him, a stranger, things that he as Caleb never knew. He asked you about who you have mistaken him for, and the answer shook him to his core.

"My childhood friend. He is... well, was, my best friend." You say wistfully, staring off into the crowd and imagining what would it be like if he was still here with you. He was about to make another comment, but stopped when you opened you mouth to continue. "And perhaps... If he was still around... We would've been something much more than that." The guilt and sadness that pierced through him then was so overwhelming it almost made him kneel. And yet, like a glutton for punishment, he asked. "You think you two would've been lovers?" "Not without us being honest with each other for once. But eventually... Yes."

You two talk for a bit more until you both feel a spike in the air, your watch that was disguised as a bracelet alerting you to wanderers in the area. You tell him to not alert everywhere because it will incite panic, and made your exit.

Unbeknownst to you, he trails after you, just like the time before the whole explosion happened. He watches you take down the wanderers with ease but then he sees a wanderer spawning just behind you, and without second thought, he uses his own evol to fling the wanderer away.

But before you could turn to see who it was who saved you, he hides behind cover. And before you could approach the spot, the wanderer stands up again, giving him ample time to slip away.

He watches you return to your post afterwards, and when you spot him again, he asks you whether you're okay and-

"Yes I am, thank you for your concern. Though..." You trailed off, your mind still stuck on the mystery of who saved you back there. "Is there something wrong?" "No! No. I just... No, it's nothing, probably just my imagination." You said, looking away and into the crowd of guests who were unaware of the Wanderer sighting, missing the look of guilt that was plastered all over his face.

Caleb, even under a different persona, was constantly worried about you. He waited for you to report to captain Jenna and escorted you home after the whole event. Before opening the door to your apartment however, you turned towards him.

"You don't have to do this, you know." "I insist." He expected you to open the door and leave, and you two will never see each other again, but instead, you looked towards him and smiled. "I thought about what you said. I think... I think you're right. I should start moving on." You said, and before he could ask why you were telling him this, you handed him your phone. "If it's alright, can we exchange numbers?"

Caleb knew he shouldn't do this. The organization specifically said that he was not to contact you at all costs. But well, Caleb reasoned with himself, they didn't say he cannot contact you while under a new persona. So he gave you his number as well.

The moment you entered your apartment and him in the elevator, he leaned against the wall and sighed.

What the fuck did he just get himself into?

[ttulipwritezz]

Rules huh? pt.2

Sirius Black x James's sister reader

warnings: James being oblivious, date, the nickname "love", not revised very well.

tysm for over a hundred likes on the last part skkdhskjd

pt1 ,pt3

Synopsis: you fell for your brother's best friend...what happens next in this situation?

"well...if it isn't Miss Potter"

"What do you want black" You had more matters to attend to than the raven-haired boy beside you, despite how badly you wanted to humor him for the moment and simultaneously piss off your brother.

"Ouch, last name basis are we?"

"You called me Potter" you half asked-half stated with an amused expression

"Miss Potter"

You laughed. A small scoff-like one but a laugh nonetheless. Truth be told it's not like his "joke" was funny at all, far from it even. It's just that Sirius had this charm, this capability to make anyone and everyone smile the moment he entered their vision.

"Isn't that worse? Also, aren't you afraid my brother's gonna give you another lecture? I assume he didn't spare you the last one, you know when he saw you blow me a kiss during dinner.?"

"Oh my, I am offended that you think that way of me, potter! And for the record, I did receive a lecture"

He said with a hand clasped over his chest in mock offense

"Besides, James is at quidditch practice right now love"

Oh, how your stomach flipped at the nickname.

Love

It almost made you consider giving in to the black charm

if it weren't for your brother's little-

"Ahem"

Sirius jumped back startled, you almost laughed out loud at that, though saving it just in time for your brother to ask for an explanation.

"Padfoot? Care to explain why you're around my sister and not at practice?"

James's tone wasn't pleased in the least.

However, it seemed as though Sirius had met with the same fate not too long ago, and he handled it with ease.

"I was just going to ask miss potter where you were, prongs, I was gonna inform you about me not being at practice.'

"And why were you not at it?"

"Uhhh....-"

"-he had potions homework and didn't want to suffer another lecture from Slughorn so I found him in the library"

Luckily potions was not a class the two fifth years shared.

"And how do you know that"

... sometimes James lacks common sense...

"I asked James...asked. Didn't I just tell you I bumped into him at the library?"

Luckily your brother's words were Always predictable to you.

"Whatever Padfoot don't be missing practice for homework next time," He said almost shuddering at the word homework.

~~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, it seemed as though things had changed with Sirius.

You didn't feel normal, your heart thumped against your chest every moment he came around, and worst of all he was forbidden.

It felt wrong to feel this way... God y/n he's your brother's best friend for Merlin's sake. But why do I keep thinking about how he called me love. Does he call anyone else that?

The weeks had been nothing but filled with wholesome exchanges, James had been kind of oblivious to this subtle change in both your demeanors, being too engrossed with Lily at the moment.

He failed to see the way Sirius smiled subconsciously when you were around, the trips to the Library might have stopped but he'd still always catch a glimpse of you in the halls, still staring at you during dinner and still staying the same old flirt.

In fact, His feelings may have been stronger than he had intended.

~~~~~

"You know black you're quite the unwelcome bug I see lingering around all the time."

You were sitting in the common room reading a book when you felt the couch beside you dip and lo and behold the raven-haired boy was back.

"You know love, I happen to..."

He takes a second to pause and look at your book title

"-love that book .. it's one of my favorites"

"Right....and I suppose you know what this book is about then?"

Defeated he didn't argue any further...

" Ok alright, I do not... But-" he started

"What do you want black?" You said remembering how upset your brother was earlier in the halls, though it gave you a bitter feeling to talk to him this way.

"Hogsmeade....me and you?"

That was kind of all he managed to get out but fortunately, you got the memo

"You're asking me out?...you do know James would be furious?"

"I simply do not care, give me a chance y/n...I promise I will make sure your brother approves of me. He's my best friend and hurting him would be the last thing I'd do. Trust me."

"Alright...see you the day after tomorrow at noon."

Curtly nodding you left without much.

But the tiny little "yess" followed by a fist in the air was enough to form a small smile on your face.

A/n: oh god this is awful and so rushed sjdkashjs, tysm for over a hundred notes in the last part!

Should there be a part three with James's reaction and the actual relationship dynamic between the two?

[apicelladonna]

Some your middle-aged married Albus&Gellert headcanons?

Where to begin!? These are general musings whether they stayed together in another lifetime or met in secrets during the war.

Albus-Gellert middle aged married fellas let's go

Beverage of choice: Tea and black coffee (Gellert swears that he saw Albus dump a whole sugar bowl into his tea but still frowned and say it wasn't sweet enough for his liking)

Mornings: Albus is a early riser because of his morning classes while you couldn't wake Gellert (night owl) even if it there was a raid unless a necessity.

Bookmarks: Leaf pressed personalized bookmark gift from Elphias- Doesn't or it will crease the binds so he just remembers the page.

When mad: Cold silent anger - passive aggressive temper

Perspective roles: The Sword & The Pen

Love language: Acts of service - Words of encouragement

Favorite body part of their partner:

(Albus: Gellert's hands when they swing animatedly when he is very vocal with his afternoon rants. Or choke him)

(Gellert: Albus' blue eyes that sucked him deep into its trenches and he gladly drowned in them. Albus' plump bottoms/thy lovely peaches to behold)

Endearment

(Albus to Gellert): 'Dear boy', 'Darling' 'My Cherished Stars',

(Gellert to Albus): 'Schatz' 'Sonnenschein', Any of the languages he can speak that has the endearment close to 'Precious Treasure' he's said it-

Blood troth: Albus kisses Gellert's lips first then the troth, Gellert kisses the scar on Albus' hand first then their troth.

Public Displays of Affection (Albus): Discreet pinky finger holding, the shit you see in Bridgerton and more, says I love you to Gellert with his eyebrow scrunch-

PDA (Gellert): He is a damn peacock with what we've seen in the Lestrange Mausoleum rally where he just shines their blood troth for all to see that he's taken. Basically: This is my husband, have you read his research article regarding the advantages of not eight but twelve properties of Dragon blood? Astounding man he is. Too humble for himself. Here have a copy-

Bedroom intimacies: gone were the days of fiery passion of their youth, when they are in their own little world, when they are alone in their bedroom, a hotel room in europe or where ever Gellert's rallies or Albus' conference were, it was selfishness of the two combined to think they had the time to map out each other's skin, scars, freckles, and marks..

There is no urgency to reach a state of euphoria, each kiss and touch was already bliss in borrowed time.

They will argue for hours end about the most mundane things.

Gellert: Does Albus like me?

Vinda: You do know you are married to him?

Gellert: I know but does he LIKE me?

One time, both were dead tired from their perspective ordeals that they just collapsed on their bed still wearing their coats and shoes.

Clothes: Simple sweaters - vain bastard, only the best silk shirts (Gellert gets colorbinded the minute Albus' wardrobe turned into a variety of bright plum, yellow, and blue. What a way to go-)

Pastime : Discovered a fondness for knitting - Catch up on the books he bought years ago from various old libraries he'd been to in Europe

Godric's Hollow: Will always visit Bathilda for tea if they are in the area and then end their day by visiting and cleaning up Ariana's gravestone.

Favorite color:

(Albus) Gold

(Gellert) Blue

Feel free to add your own takes! Thank you again for this question! I'm sorry it took me long but I wanted to give it my all. Cheers!

[lightbarebunnies]

requesting nazuna with an s/o he met at university who always tried to do things with him despite his busy schedule!!! could be hcs or whatever u want :3

a/n: bnuuy!!!! Partially basing this off of my own experiences in college. Personally? Do not go to school if you're trying to do an art-related career and already know the basics. Spend your time networking instead of going into debt to learn color theory. Sincerely, - an Interactive Media Design major tags: fluff, gn!reader - you/your pronouns, reader is a student in university (age and major not specified)

Nazuna wasn’t expecting to meet ‘someone’ at University… but lo and behold, he catches himself getting excited about going to the class he was blessed to share with you every week.

It all started when you ended up sitting next to him in one of his Gen Eds. A few weeks in, you noticed the mobile game he was playing, and it turned out you played too! Your friendship blossomed from there.

At first, you just chatted during class, discussing your favorite characters from the gacha game you both played.

You didn't seem to know too much about his idol career, or at least didn't make a big deal out of it, which was really refreshing. You started meeting up to get lunch before class, then walking in together.

As great as it was to spend more and more time with you... Nazuna wanted to see you more than just one time a week.

So he'd invite you over to his dorm under the excuse of 'studying', and eventually he got more comfortable just asking you to hang out whenever he was free.

He was the one to insist on getting your schedules for the future semesters figured out so that you’d share at least one class a week. Just so he can work on group projects with someone he knows is reliable- Y'know, since working with random people is a pain! That's all! Nothing more! (he is lying.)

The rest of Ra*bits were Nazuna’s cheerleaders when it came to him figuring out how to confess his feelings to you. He didn’t want to be too showy, or demanding… or just smother you with all of his feelings at once. He knows what it’s like to get out on a pedestal by the person who loves you.

He ended up waiting until after Valentine’s Day - Ra*bits had filmed a cooking show segment on making a few different chocolate flavored pastries, and he used those skills to prepare a little treat basket for you to give to you right before mid-terms.

In a note he included how appreciative he is on you and your constant support. He loves your company, is so grateful to have you as his friend, and wanted to let you know how he really feels. He’d accept your answer with no question.

To his delight, you felt similarly! After a quick talk about keeping your relationship secret from the media, you became a couple!

Of course, Nazuna’s lovely little rabbits all love you - once you were formally introduced. Some… more than others.

Hajime watches you like a hawk, and gave you the “If you make my Nii-chan upset, I’ll end you” look with a chilling smile on his face. You’re pretty sure he could crush you like a bug, but you don’t exactly plan on hurting the boy you love, anyways.

Oh, and Koppe… Nazuna melts watch you play and hold him. It’s two of his favorite things at the same time, and it really warms his heart to see that you get along so well with his precious baby. Koppe has started doing binkies when you come to visit him!

Study dates became a weekly occurrence, it gave the two of you private time to cuddle together while also being productive. Nazuna would apologize for not doing something more romantic, since he’s spread pretty think between his idol work and keeping up with homework.

You start getting snuck in to the green room whenever Ra*bits has a live performance, Nazuna always jumps right into your arms and gives you a kiss on the cheek when they’ve finished up. Seeing you there, knowing you saw him perform, and the fact that you’re such a big part of his life… it just excites him so much to have someone as supportive as you are, he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes.

[allthecastlesonclouds]

bulleted headcannons of fh dance studio 🫴

oh my GOSH okay yes!!

aguefort owns the studio. nobody knows how bc he does one (1) type of dance and it's fucking BALLROOM. he somehow keeps the studio running though so nobody stops him

ayda works the main office mostly. she danced at a studio that did the yearly nutcracker and then got tired of it and wanted to learn some other versions.

(she does a lot of contemporary now, especially to hip-hop music. it's cool as hell.)

kristen does modern and takes ballet. she tries so hard and she is so strong but she is. absolute shit at anything harder than a piqué. she likes modern bc cass lets her work in her ribbon dancer. she's also Really Good with choreo and technique!! she can spot the issue in Seconds

she helps out around the studio a lot too!! definitely not to see more of the girl with the pretty side cut who dances in the later hours :)

gorgug does hip hop bc he loves the community aspect of it! and ballet- he does a lot of the background/supporting work.

he's never had a solo. all the bad kids want him to ask for one because he's really fucking good how dare he. he tells them that aguefort doesn't like him.

(arthur doesn't like him. ayda would fight the world for him.)

fig is a jazz+tap girlie but she was Raised on ballet+tap so she's signed up for ballet too! she's been doing tap since she was So Little and it's genuinely just. her favorite thing ever.

she crashes the hip hop classes often. nobody stops her because she has the Energy Ever.

adaine, like fig, was put into ballet as a kid (along with aelwyn)

she met riz and he dragged her to a hip hop class and she simply. has not gone back. added contemporary onto her repertoire and a technique class and pointe. definitely the busiest out of everyone.

riz tried it for like. school. and fucking loved it. he thought it would be good networking, good resume filling, good exercise- and also he loved it. that comes last in the list of importance tho

that guy choreographs and performs the most complex ballet pieces known to man. kristen has tried one during an after-recital party and that video is used as blackmail to this day

he does ballet and jazz. he's tried every class at the studio and settled into those two. he's perfectly fine in his comfort zone thank you!

fabian started as a solely Jazz dancer. his dad died and he underwent a whole buncha self evaluation and then signed up for so many classes- he's taking no joke like 10.

jazz. ballet. tap. technique. modern. contemporary. hip hop. pointe. he's doing it all and having the Time Of His Life.

and now we get into the actual *studio*! whoaa it only took 17 bullet points!

their studio doesn't do a show performance, like the nutcracker, or competitions, but they do work a lot on choreography and do multiple performances throughout the year

you can request to do a solo/double/group piece that's multi-track! ayda Somehow fits it in the schedule. you get a teacher advisor (for the bad kids maybe jawbone?) who gives advice but the dance is mostly choreographed by you

these dances are the highlights of the recitals. fig wants to do one but is already doing a solo so she wants to work on a group piece! she and adaine have traumabonded in multiple classes so she asks her first

adaine goes. you're not gonna believe what i'm about to do. and snags riz. fig grabs gorgug. they're the initial four.

they spy fabian after a late-night rehearsal having a mental breakdown through dance and go huh. he was already becoming less stuck up. let's speed up the process.

kristen swings by later, sweeping and restocking toilet paper and shit and offhandedly offers some solutions to things they're struggling with

and lo and behold the bad kids are created! they have No Concept of time ever. but they're gonna choreograph a dance and by god it's going to look good!!

[dizzyjelly]

We Can Be Scared Together(18+)

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: enemies to lovers, you and Ellie are high-school classmates who despise each other but then one Friday night you go to a party and play an interesting game of spin the bottle. There's quite a bit of angst, but a happy ending bc I'm a sucker for love :D

Cw: fighting, use of slur (dyke), homophobia, readers parents kinda suck(mostly dad), disappointed father, parents fight briefly, caring/worried mom, underage drinking, brief mention of eating disorder, brief mention of weed, heavy make out session, smut!, boob stuff, oral, Ellie is a munch ig?

A/n: it took me so long to write this oml 😭 also this is my first time writing smut so sorry if it isn't great but I think I did a pretty good job on it. Anyways enemies to lovers is my favorite trope so I absolutely loved writing this, hope you enjoy!

You sat in class, bored out of your mind as you stared at the wall in front of you. There was some dumbass inspirational poster taped to it, something about 'what's popular is not always right what's right is not always popular blah blah blah.'

Everything was going as it usually did, but then the teacher called out your name. She had some question written out on the board, and apparently you were going to be the one to answer.

"Y/n, what would our answer be here?" She asked, crossing her arms as she stared you down.

You tried to peek at the boys paper beside you, knowing he was smart. But of course, he covered it with his arm, asshole.

"Um, I- I don't know." You finally admitted, tired of all the eyes on you.

You could hear someone laughing in the back of the classroom, you turned your head to see who. And lo and behold, it was Ellie Fucking Williams. God, you hated that girl. You squinted your eyes at her with hatred.

"Bitch." You muttered under your breath, somehow she'd heard you because her laughter stopped and her brows furrowed.

"What'd you say?" She asked, now standing from her seat and walking over to you.

You looked up at her for a minute before standing yourself, you had a few inches on her so now you were the one in control. Carefully, you took a step closer, your chests brushed against one another as you did so.

She looked up at you, clenching her jaw as she held tight fists at her side. Your jaw was relaxed, but you also had your hands in fists.

"Ladies." Your teacher warned, but neither of you were listening.

Before you knew it, you'd punched her square in the nose and she got you right back. Not in the nose though, she went for your mouth. Fortunately, none of your teeth broke, but you did bite down on your tongue hard enough that it was gushing blood. And your lip was also split.

Ellie has two thick red lines of blood trickling out of her nose, running down her chin and staining her white tank. You laughed at the sight, bringing your hand to rub at your jaw as it ached. The smile on your face was bittersweet.

"You stupid bitch!" You shouted, and then about three seconds later and she was on the floor helpess as you were on top of her.

You were practically straddling her, and to make things even better you'd held both her arms down above her head, a rather intimate position. You wouldn't notice though, because you were too focused on beating the girl that was beneath you.

After a good slap to her face, you got distracted by some idiot guy in your class.

"Yeah! Take your top off!" He'd shouted, sounding all giddy. [Kind of a mean girls reference lol]

God he was probably so bricked up right now. You scoffed, climbing off the poor girl and standing on your own two feet. She practically jumped up, and the look on her face just said pissed.

She quickly expressed that physically, by shoving you harshly into the wall with her hands on either of your shoulders. You groaned as your head pounded against the brick wall, damn you couldn't get another concussion. Now she was the one smiling.

Before she could get any kind of hit in, you were pulled apart by the school security guard. You were breathing heavily as a hand came to the back of your head, which was throbbing in pain.

After a while, the two of you were now seated in the office. You were particularly shocked that they let the two of you sit beside each other. Your arms were crossed, and you were silent. Ellie sat relaxed, her arms resting on her chair as she manspreaded with zero shame.

It wasn't until about ten minutes later that the vice principal came from his office to call one of you back to speak to your parent on the phone you assumed. Thankfully, he'd called Ellie’s name first, you were not at all ready for what your mom would have to say about this.

She came out after about fifteen minutes or so, a sour look present on her face as her arms were crossed. This time when she sat her legs crossed tightly. Damn, her dad must've been really upset. You looked over to her, the to the vice principal as he called for you. Your eyes widened with fear and you made your way into his office, taking a seat.

"So," he cleared his throat, "we have a zero tolerance policy with violence here, as you know I'm sure. I will now inform you of your punishment and the we will call your mother. You will face lunch detention for one month, minimum, that's if you can behave. You will report here after school to do community service for two weeks. And you and Ms. Williams will meet with the school counselor once a week, together." He read it all off some yellow sheet, then picked up the phone to dial your mom.

You groaned in agony, community service wouldn't be horrible but weekly meetings with the counselor? God, just kill me now, you thought. Then you panicked as the phone rang all but once before your mother picked up. You began chewing at your nails as he explained what happened then handed you the phone.

"Mom?" Your voice was quiet and shaky, you were terrified.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I cannot believe this. What happened?" She scolded, clearly upset.

"I- I don't know." It was the best answer you could give, and mostly true.

"I mean I don't get it, you've always been my good little girl." She sounded... sad?

"Yeah, well maybe I'm tired of being good!" You shouted, frustrated.

It was difficult, being held to such high expectations. You were far from perfect, but that's all she wanted you to be. Her and your father both, but you just weren't.

"Y/n... that's not true" She sighed, "your father is going to be furious, even more than I am."

"How do you know its not true, huh? All you and dad want me to be is this perfect girl with amazing grades and cool friends. Well I'm not. I'm tired of all the pressure you guys put on me, I can't take it anymore!" You shouted once again before shoving the phone back into the vice principals hand then storming out of his office.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you'd be damned if you let Ellie Williams see you cry, so you bolted for the schools back doors and ran to your car. Once you were there, you drove as you blasted music to drown out your thoughts. You weren't going home, no, but where? Eventually you decided to head to your favorite park, you'd always go there to get high.

Why not continue the tradition? You figured there was no point in staying sober, besides a joint would definitely help with the lecture you'd be receiving from your parents tonight. Mostly your father, but still.

You brought your hands to your face, wiping your tears away. Then you grabbed a joint from your empty glasses case in the pouch on the back of your seat. Afterwards, you made your way to the swings and lit it up.

An hour or so passed and your phone started ringing, you picked it up and of course it was your mother yelling frantically about how worried she was. Rolling your eyes, you hung up without a word and drove home, high as a kite. You pulled into the driveway and every bone in your body told you not to go inside, but you had to, so you did.

You were met with your parents asking you to come sit in the living room, as they stood across from the couch. Your leg bounced anxiously as your father started to speak.

"To say we're worried about you would be an understatement y/n, we are beyond worried. I don't know what has driven you to this new wave of violence, but we won't have it. You're grounded for at least one month, and you can only have your phone during school in case you need to contact one of us. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed. Truly, I do not know who you are anymore. I do know one thing though, you're sure as hell not the my sweet little girl anymore. Now, give me your phone and go to your room." His speech was finally done, and there had been a tear or two that made its way down your face.

Your eyes rolled as you gave him your phone, then ran upstairs to your room. Not even bothering to get any schoolwork done, you changed into some comfy clothes then got into bed. You kept your lights off as you got warm underneath your covers in the dark. You let out a heavy sigh as tears started to wet the bedsheet beneath you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you woke up the next morning, you had no motivation to even get up. But you did, knowing you were already on thin ice so there's no way you'd get to stay home. You were silent at the dining table during breakfast, only muttering a thank you to your mother when she handed you your phone as you were walking out the door. You drove to school in silence.

The day went by surprisingly well, and thankfully the meetings with your shit counselor didn't begin until next week. Everything was going smoothly until gym class, you were in the girls locket room changing into your gym clothes. The teacher decided on basketball today, which you quite enjoyed.

You went about your business as usual, not even looking in Ellie's direction. You figured it was better to just leave things alone. Everything was going fine until some popular bitches had to start talking.

"Oh my God, Stacy, she's totally looking at us." The blonde one didn't even try to whisper, giggling.

"Ew, I know. She's so gay. Like im totally uncomfortable right now." Stacy replied, also laughing.

"Seriously, she should just use the boys locker room." The blonde one spoke again and the pair laughed even harder.

You rolled your eyes, knowing they were talking about Ellie. Not that you cared, but today it was getting on your nerves. You'd had enough.

"Can't you guys just shut the fuck up?" You asked, your voice slightly raised.

Ellies brows furrowed at your response, definitely unexpected.

"And who are you, the dyke defender?" The blonde one asked, her sass more present than anything.

"No. But I know you guys are making a big deal out of nothing." You spoke at a normal tone now, taking a step closer to her.

"It's weird!" Stacy shouted from beside her.

"Oh my God, no it's not!" You shouted back, "besides, Stacy, you're one to talk. I find it weird how the two of you are always running to the bathroom together after lunch. Probably throwing up your salads, bulimic bitches." You insulted the two girls, and they were left speechless.

The two of them just gasped and rolled there eyes at you before exiting to the gym. You let a small smile creep onto your face as you turned around, facing Ellie. She smiled at you but you just stared at her blankly, then made your way to the gym without a word to her.

You were out on the basketball court now, the game was going rather well. Your team was winning by three points, and you had scored once or twice. Then, your gym teacher blew her whistle for a break. You started to lightly jog towards your water when somebody shoulder-checked you harshly enough to knock you to the ground.

And of course it was Stacy. Bitch.

"Whoops, sorryyy!" She shouted sarcastically.

You sighed, propping your elbows up on the floor behind you. Before you knew it, there was a hand holding yours and helping you up. Much to your surprise, it was none other than your arch nemesis Ellie.

"Thanks." You meant to sound genuine, but failed miserably.

"Yeah, no problem. Hey, can I waterfall your water? Forgot mine today." She brought a hand to the back of her neck, which was dripping in sweat.

You took a nice, long sip of your ice cold water. Then you shrugged, handing it to her.

"Sure, why not?" Your tone had slowly become kinder and less passive aggressive.

You watched as she tilted her head back, then let the waterfall past her lips. A single drop spilling down her chin. You might have hated her, but damn. There was something about the way she looked with her hair pulled back, all sweaty and hot. It was like, sexy? No, no. You hated this girl. She wasn't sexy, she was just a bitch.

Once the school day was done with, you headed home and the whole drive there all you could think about was Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams, and how you'd thought she was hot and sexy. It made absolutely no sense. You'd spent years upon years hating this girl, and now you were attracted to her. No, there's no way.

You were beyond thankful to come home to an empty house, both your parents still at work. They couldn't take your phone if they weren't home. But, it didn't matter because they'd set s screen time on it so you couldn't use it anyways. You let out a groan of frustration and annoyance. Then, you decided to actually do something responsible. You got all your homework done while watching TV in the living room.

Quickly, you collected your things and ran to your room when you heard your parents pull up in the driveway. You hadn't wanted to see them, not unless you had to. As they walked in the door, they seemed to be arguing about something.

"Honey, you're overreacting." Your mom spoke softly.

"No, I'm not. She's an embarrassment to this family! She is my greatest disappointmen! And I dont want to hear about it from my own father." Your father argued, his voice rough.

"She's your daughter, how can you say that?" Your mother replied, taking offense.

You only realized now that he was talking about you, that definitely hurt.

"I don't care, you know sometimes I wish she wasn't!" Your father shouted, and your mother gasped.

You ran from where you were listening at the stairs and slammed your door shut, immediately climbing into bed to cry. You could hear your mother start to yell at your father, but you didn't bother to try and make out what she was saying. You stayed in your room for the rest of the night, going to bed without dinner.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, the loud beeping bringing you agony as always. You slam the button down so hard your tiny digital clock falls to the ground, groaning you sit up. After rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, you get out of bed. As much as you were dreading school, at least it was Friday. Your parents would be going out of town for a family event, which you were not invited to.

This was the result of their argument last night, your father winning and now you were staying home while they met with your grandparents. You knew you hadnt been the best kid lately, but it never occurred to you that you were now your fathers greatest disappointment. Not until last night at least.

Doing your best to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, you left for school early that morning. You didn't do much with your spare time, just sitting in the parking lot with your car still on.

The school day was mildly boring, nothing interesting happening. That was until you overheard a conversation between some guys in your fourth hour.

"You going to Josh's party tonight?" The first guy asked.

"Mm, depends. Josh D or Josh P?" The second guy answered, with a question as well.

"Ugh, Josh P obviously." The first guy replied.

"Alright. Then yeah, what time?" Guy number two asked his friend.

"Like eleven I think." His friend responded.

"Alright, cool." The other guy answered.

You felt excitement bubbling, a party would be fun. And another chance to disappoint your father. That wasn't your goal though, mainly you just wanted to get shit faced and forget your sorry ass life for a night. You weren't really close with Josh P, but you knew where he lived. You'd definitely be going to that party at eleven.

[Fast forward to later tonight, you're getting ready for the party]

The outfit you'd chosen for school definitely wasn't going to cut it. You opened up your closet, skimming through your clothes. Eventually you settled on a navy blue dress, it was just short enough to get you checked out. It also had a flattering crewneck and a tanktop build at the top.

You smiled at yourself in the mirror, it hugged your curves exceptionally well. Then you took a seat at your vanity as you did your makeup. Nothing too outrageous, just the basics. Eyeliner, mascara, blush, highlighter, and lip gloss.

Once you were done you slipped into your favorite pair of shoes, specifically for parties. They had light stains, due to that fact, they were your go-tos in case anyone threw up on your shoes or anything like that.

You drove over to the party, it wasn't too far so you didn't leave until eleven. Plus, you didn't wanna be that weirdo who showed up early. Thankfully when you got there, there had already been a decent amount of kids your age inside. As you walked in, you were immediately hit with the stench of booze and the sound of loud music blasting in your ears.

It was slightly euphoric, but maybe that was just you. You'd always felt that way, taking your first steps into a party, like you were on top of the world. Everything was going decently well, and you were down two drinks when you had gotten into a game of beer pong. This knocked you down a couple more drinks, and you were ready for another round when a certain someone caught your eye from across the table.

Ellie. Ellie was here, your breath caught in your throat as you swallowed hard at the sight of her. She wore a black lacey crop top, that was basically a bralette. And she wore loose-fitted jeans that dipped below her stomach, the lining of her matching black underwear creeping out the sides. You bit down at your bottom lip, darting away to the bathroom.

If the thought that she was hot came to your mind sober, lord only knows what's to come when you've been drinking. You sighed as you shut and locked the door behind you, squeezing your eyes shut as you slid down the door and sat on the cold tiles, bringing your head to your hands.

You let out a defeated sigh, you couldn't hide out in here forever. But it wouldn't hurt to stay for a while. After finally getting your shit together, you stood to wash your hands under cold water, giving you a slight sense of adrenaline. You exited and left the door open as you walked back out to the living room. Beer pong was done with, and a circle was being formed for spin the bottle.

I mean, come on, you had to play. And you saw Ellie take a seat, which, for some odd reason, just made the game more intriguing. Besides, who were you to pass up a drunk kissing game at a high school party? It'd be lame if you had.

Smiling, you sat crisscross applesauce between two guys, one sat comfortably and calm, the other seemed terrified. Dudes probably a virgin or something, the way he was practically shaking at the thought of having to just kiss someone. You shook your head lightly, chuckling at him a bit.

"Alright, who's up first?" Josh, the host, asked as he took a seat and set an empty bottle in the middle of everyone.

Nobody was eager to volunteer, and you were about to lean forward to take a spin, but somebody else cut you off.

"Guess I'll go." Ellie spoke so nonchalantly, it drove you insane.

You could feel your heart pick up as she leaned forward to spin the green bottle, giving you a perfect view of her boobs. You swore you could've been drooling at the sight. Your eyes locked in on the bottle as it spun rapidly, shaking a bit, and as it slowly came to a stop, you were silently hoping it'd land on you. And no. fucking. way. It did.

Her eyes met yours, a playful smirk finding its way onto her face. You smiled sheepishly, turning your head slightly as your cheeks flushed red and you licked your lips. Taking a deep breath, you got on your hands and knees to get face to face with her, she did the same.

Just before she brought her lips to yours, she leaned to the side to whisper in your ear. The way her hot breath felt against your neck drove you crazy.

"Let's give em' a real show, huh?" Her voice was low and husky, sending a shockwave to your core.

Finally, she brought her lips to yours. Almost immediately, her hands found their place on the back of your neck as she pulled you in deeper. You took your hands to her bare waist, letting out a small moan as she slipped her tongue into your mouth.

She tasted faintly of strawberry, mostly of alcohol and a little bit of weed. It was so addicting, the way her tongue ran against every corner, every crevice of your mouth. Then, you just couldn't help yourself as she bit down on your bottom lip just enough to make it sting. Pushing her back, you crawled forwards and straddled her.

Somehow you were still breathing, even after not having pulled away for one second from what might've been the most magical, intense kiss of your life. Ellies hands moved down your body, now cupping your ass. She gave it a small squeeze and a smile formed on your lips, she chuckled against your lips as she felt it.

A string of both your mixed salivas formed as you pulled back just slightly, but it didn't last long as Ellie brought her lips back to yours in an instant. Everyone else had been cheering and clapping, going insane over how hot and heavy you guys got. Finally, you climbed off of her and took your place back in your seat.

Flustered, you brought a hand up to lightly stroke your hair. Ellies cheeks flushed red as she wiped at the corners of her mouth, which were all wet from your hot, sloppy kiss. You shot her a smile, and she returned the favor. You felt butterflies in your stomach, swirling around at an incredibly fast pace.

"Well, that's gonna be hard to beat." Josh said with strong laughter.

Somebody else would spin the bottle and the game continued for a good while. Josh was right though, nothing came close to what you and Ellie had. Eventually, the game ended when vrigin boy next to you chickened out and wouldn't kiss the rather cute brunette he'd spun on. Everyone booed and called him lame. You didn't care all that much, seeing as you were satisfied with the results of the game. Everyone dispersed and went on to doing other party activities.

Since you were already decently drunk, you skipped out on any kind of drinking games. Instead, you found yourself sat on the red couch in the living room, some couple of the other side of it were making out and borderline dry humping. Uncomfortable, you pulled out your phone just so you could have something to stare at. Then, after a minute or so, you felt somebody plop down next to you, their body leaning into yours without hesitation.

And what do you know, it's Ellie because of fucking course it's Ellie. She tried to say something to you, but you couldn't hear her due to the insanely loud music playing. You just looked st her confused, then your face heated up and she leaned into you even more, bringing her head to the side of yours and her hand to the other side of your neck as she talked into your ear, sending chills down your spine.

"So, how about that kiss huh? Pretty hot." You could just hear the smugness in her voice, and you were sure she had a stupid smirk plastered across her face right now.

"Sure was. Too bad we're not playing spin the bottle anymore." You joked, hoping she'd catch on. And she did, because she's not an idiot.

"So?" She said at first, leaning back and just giving you a sweet peck on the cheek, "if you wanted to kiss me again, I'd let you."

You let out a small sigh, God Damn she was so hot.

"Oh yeah? Well we better be careful, because the way you were grabbing my ass earlier gave me the impression you wanted a little something more." You were a bit shocked at your own words, they were the result of all your drinks, you knew you'd never say any of this sober.

Ellie laughed, it sounded so sweet from the proximity of her mouth to your ear.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell you you're wrong. Maybe we don't have to be so careful, if that's what you want, of course." She was bold, confident, sexy. The whole damn package.

You didn't give her another word, just backing up so you could pull her into a kiss. Your previous position returned, but now she straddled you. It was absolutely hot the way she didn't hold back, and you swore you heard her moan at the way you whimpered as she gripped your hair, tugging at it slightly.

Slowly, you were becoming strikingly similar to the couple that had made you so uncomfortable a few minutes ago. You couldn't give a single fuck about that though, because the way Ellie kissed you was downright addictive. You wanted more, no you needed more. After a minute or so, you pulled away then leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"I don't want to be careful. I need you Ellie, so bad." Your words were breathy, and you meant every single one.

Ellie let out a small groan at how forward you'd been.

"Ok princess, let's go to my car. I've got tinted windows, can't promise nobody will hear us though. Can you keep quiet?" She whispered back.

You bit your lip,

"I'll try my best for you." You smiled as she stood and took you out to her car, having you climb into the backseat before she got in with you.

Immediately she locked the doors before climbing on top of you to resume your heavy make out session from inside. You loved the way she moved her hands up and down your sides, gripping at your hips as she rubbed her hands over them. You felt hot all over, and the wet spot forming in your panties was becoming more and more evident.

She broke your kiss and started peppering kisses across your jaw before she sucked at your neck hungrily, it didn't take long for her to find your pulse point that made you let out a loud moan. Quickly, you bit down on your bottom lip to quiet yourself, along with bringing a hand to your mouth as the other one held you up. Ellie slowly made her way down to your collarbones, then she brought her hands up from your hips to your dress.

"Can I pull this off baby?" She looked up at you with lust filled eyes as she spoke so softly, so sensual.

You nodded eagerly in response, the way she was treating you, you'd let her do whatever she wanted. She let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to either of your shoulders.

"Use your words, pretty girl." She encouraged, still gripping at your dress.

"Yes, please." You whined out, and she pulled your dress down, along with your bra in one fell swoop.

She immediately latched onto one of your tits, taking the other in her hand as she toyed with your nipple, they peaked hard and you let out a breathy moan as she flicked her tongue over the one. The other was kneaded between her fingers like dough, and God it felt amazing. After a minute she switched so her mouth was on the other, giving it one small suck before she kissed further down your chest to your stomach, now pulling your dress all the way down to your ankles.

You flushed red, feeling a little embarrassed at how exposed you were. Instinctively, you pushed your legs together. Ellie shot you a smirk, taking your knees in her hands to spread you apart.

"Come on baby girl, no need to hide, you're so pretty." She complimented you as she brought her head down to place light kisses on your inner thigh.

Then she sucked a few harsh kisses into them, gripping at your ass as she did so. You let out another moan as she worked your thighs with her mouth, the fact she was so close to where you'd needed her so badly was driving you insane. After a minute you couldn't take it anymore, reaching down to pull off your underwear yourself before grabbing her by the back of her head and guiding her towards your dripping core.

She let out a small moan at your sudden impatience, and she let you have your way. When her tongue finally met your clit, you couldn't help the pornagraphic moan that escaped your lips. You brought a hand to your mouth, biting down on your pointer finger to silence yourself as she lapped her tongue.

She took it slow at first, but after you'd given her hair a light tug she started eating you out like there was no tomorrow. She absolutely devoured you, like you were her last meal, and she savored every drop. It didn't take long for you to get that familiar feeling in your stomach, knowing you were close.

"El-ellie, mmnph- fuck I'm gonna-" You sucked a breath through your teeth as she went even faster, "ah fuckkk.." You moaned out.

She broke away for just a second, causing you to let out a rather pathetic whimper.

"Cum for me baby, come on. I got you. That's my girl" she was back on you in seconds, and you came in no time after those words of praise.

You were a moaning mess as you reached your release, bringing your other hand down to grip onto her hair as she didn't stop. Not even forming coherent sentences at this point, you couldn't even tell her to stop because you were starting to feel overstimulated. Instead you just pulled her back from you, she stared up at you with a smile. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you panted.

She climbed forwards, her hands coming down at either side of your head as she went to kiss you. You let out a small moan as you tasted yourself on her tongue. She brought a hand to caress your cheek softly.

"You did so good baby, so proud of you." You giggled at her words.

"Thank you," you blushed, "do you want me to... do anything for you?" You asked shyly, she'd just given you an earth shattering orgasm so the least you could do was return the favor.

But, she shook her head.

"Nah, I'll be fine." She smiled down at you, placing a kiss to your cheek then the conrer of your mouth.

"You sure?" You asked with furrowed brows, not wanting to leave her high and dry.

"Next time, pretty girl." You flashed her a smile, the thought of there being a next time had you excited.

"Mkay." You brought a hand to the back of her neck to pull her in for another kiss.

Once the two of you broke apart, she helped you pull your panties back up from your ankles as well as your dress. You smiled at her sweetly, she sat back comfortably, patting her leg for you to come sit. You sat between her spread legs, smiling as you rested your head on her shoulder and her arms wrapped around you, rubbing soft circles into your tummy.

The two of you sat like that for a few minutes, merely enjoying each other's presence. You let out a small sigh of frustration when her phone started going off and she removed one hand from you to check it.

"Ah, shit. I've gotta get home. Did you need a ride or anything?" She asked, as she pushed you off her and was ready to get into the driver's seat.

"Um, I'm pretty shit faced so yeah that'd be great." You sat in the backseat as she got into the driver's then took you home.

She said goodbye with just a small wave. You did the same, just trying to match her energy. You couldn't help the dumbstruck smile on your face as you walked into your house and upstairs to your room. You squealed into your pillow after jumping onto your bed. You were in shock, it was hard to believe that really just happened, but it did. Tonight was one of the best of your life.

As tired as you were, you still managed to remove your makeup and get changed into some comfy clothes for bed. You shut off your lights and got comfy under your covers, giddily replying the events of tonight as you closed your eyes to fall asleep. It didn't take long for you to basically passed out, mostly because of how many drinks you'd has. Before you knew it you were out like a light.

Throughout the weekend you were on a high, still thinking back to everything that went down on Friday. Monday morning came along, and you were actually excited to go to school for once. You didn't see Ellie until science class, but you could wait. Even if it felt like you couldn't. Once you got there, she was definitely acting weird.

You smiled at her, even waved a little, but she didn't so much as glance in your direction. You were confused to say the east, but you just figured maybe she had a bad morning or something. It's not like you guys were that close so you didn't really know. You tried your best not to let it cloud your mind, and if didn't. At least not until your teacher told you to pick partners and you walked over to Ellie.

"Hey, Ellie, do you wann-"

"No. Um I'm gonna find someone else, thanks though." She was so quick to answer, and with a no?

Ok, what the hell happened over the weekend. Surely there must've been something. Maybe she had a boyfriend you didn't know about? Or a girlfriend. Either way, whether she was or wasn't in a relationship, she could've at least disclosed that to you. You ended up stuck partnering with Stacy because her blonde friend wasn't there that day. It was seriously hell on earth, and this was a week-long project.

Once class ended, you tried to talk to Ellie, but she seemed to get away from you as fast as she could so you didn't get the chance. You let out a small sigh of defeat, maybe you could try again in gym class. The time rolled around and you were back in the locker room, Stacy learned to keep her mouth shut thankfully.

You got changed quickly, then walked over to Ellie. Leaning against the locker beside her, you tried to read her gaze. What was her deal?

"Can I help you." She spoke after a moment, her tone was anything but welcoming or kind.

"Um, yeah. I just wondered what's up I guess, you're just being kinda weird." You answered timidly, shocked by her hostile state.

"Look, we're not friends so I don't know why you're acting like it. Just drop it ok?" She answered, somehow her voice had gotten even colder.

Your teacher called for everyone to come out to the gym, you stopped Ellie though so now it was just the two of you.

"Ellie, come on. What are you saying, what are we?" You asked, genuinely wondering.

"Nothing. We aren't anything." She answered with a shake of her head as if it was obvious.

You scoffed harshly,

"Oh, ok nothing, really? I don't know about you, but the other night sure as hell didn't feel like nothing to me!" Your voice raised slightly as you were growing angry.

She sighed, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose out of frustration.

"Look, y/n. The other night was a mistake, and we were both drunk. If there hadn't been drinks involved, nothing would've happened." She spoke so clearly, as if it really meant nothing to her.

Tears grew in your eyes, but you did your best to shive them down, that all too familiar lump forming in your throat.

"Bullshit" you spat out, "bullshit because I'm stone cold sober right now and I can't stop thinking about kissing you again." You argued.

"Well, sorry but that's just you" She looked down, avoiding your strong gaze, "I don't have feeling for you."

You couldn't stop the tears that fell from your eyes at that statement.

"Ok, then look me in my eyes and tell me. Tell me you feel absolutely nothing for me." You demanded, crossing your arms.

"Y/n, please don't do this." She pleaded, as if she couldn't do what you were asking.

"No, look at me and tell me. Then I'll believe you." You stated, the anger blooming in your chest as more tears fell.

Her eyes met yours and she almost looked sorry for making you cry, but clearly not sorry enough.

"I dont-" She stopped for a moment, tears no welled in her eyes, "I don't have feelings for you." She spoke clearly and coldly, meeting your gaze so directly.

"Ok, then I guess we're done" You sniffled, wiping at your tears that just continued to flow, "see you around, Williams." You sighed, getting your things together as you headed for the back doors.

You left school early, skipping out on the rest of your classes. When you got home in the middle of the day, you were surprised to find your mother home.

"Y/n, what are you doing here? Why aren't you in class?" Shit.

"I got a fever." You lied through your teeth, but she just let you because she could tell you'd been crying.

"Ok, you want me to make you some soup?" She asked, her motherly nature kicking in.

"No, I'm good. Thanks mom." You shook your head, then ran upstairs to your room.

You were silent for the rest of the evening, only going downstairs for dinner before you went back up to your room and cried yourself to sleep. Fucking deja vu.

The next morning your alarm went off, and you just felt empty. There was no way in hell you'd go to school, so you had another fever today. Your mom called you in sick, coming to say goodbye to you before she left for work. You lied in bee, facing the wall as you recalled the hesrt wrenching conversation with Ellie from yesterday.

"Hey sweetie, just came to say bye" Your mother announced as she came and sat on your bed, "I know you don't have a fever, wanna tell me what's really going on?" She asked, bringing a hand to rub your arm soothingly.

You sighed, maybe it'd help to talk about it.

"There's this girl. I thought she liked me, but-" Your breath hitched, "I was wrong." You sniffled as your tears began to wet the bedsheets beneath you.

"Aw, honey, that girl just doesn't know a keeper when she sees it then" she leaned down and planted a sweet kiss to your forehead, "there's no medicine for a broken heart, but I promise it'll get better in time. I'm sorry sweetie." She stood and left, you were happy to be alone but hated it at the same time.

You spent practically the entire day thinking about Ellie, wondering why she'd gotten so cold. Just racking your brain for something, anything you might've done wrong. It was no use, nothing came to light. You were stuck in the dark.

You'd only gotten out of bed to use the bathroom and get a little something to eat, you stood leaning against the kitchen counter in just an oversized t-shirt and underpants as you microwaved some noodles.

Then, there was a knock at the door. Your brows furrowed, probably a package for one of your parents you left it alone as you waited on your food, but then they knocked again, you sighed and walked over to the door. As you swung it open, you felt like you might crumble and fall to the floor. It was Ellie. Ellie with a bouquet of flowers in her hand... what the fuck.

"Hi. Look, I don't wanna take up a ton of your time because I was a dick to you but I'm sorry. It wasn't fair for me to treat you that way and I'm just really fucking sorry" She extended her hand out, handing you the flowers, she brought her hands to her pockets as she stood awkwardly.

"Ok, well an explanation might be nice..." You spoke quietly, holding the rather beautiful flowers in one hand as the other rested on the door handle.

Ellie sighed.

"Looks, y/n, I really like you. I don't understand how I went from hating you for years, to being in love with you and- shit. I probably shouldn't have said that. Uh- anyways, I really really like you and I guess I'm just scared because I don't really know how to be in a relationship, and I dont want to mess this up. Because I really like you. Like, a lot." Her confession was heartfelt and genuine, it was real.

You smiled.

"Well, for starters, I suppose I can forgive you. Secondly, I don't wanna mess this up either, and I understand that you're scared. I'm scared too. But, maybe we could be scared together. As long as you won't shut me out or get all cold again." You gave her a stern look at the end of your own confession.

"I promise. Also I hope you like the flowers, I wasn't really sure what to get. I'm not used to apologizing." She chuckled awkwardly.

"I love them, now come here you idiot." You set the flowers down and brought your arms around her, bringing her in for a kiss.

The two of you shared a warm embrace afterwards, your head finding comfort in the crook of Ellie’s neck.

"Oh, and by the way" you whispered into her hair, "I'm in love with you too."

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt Damon and Ben Affleck

The Interview Magazine (December 1997)

By Ingrid Sischy

-

With flagrant disregard for the way things get done in the movie business, lifelong friends and fellow actors Matt Damon and Ben Affleck decided to write a movie they could act in. Now that movie—Good Will Hunting, directed by Gus Van Sant and costarring Robin Williams and Ben’s kid brother, Casey—is about to hit the theaters and, lo and behold, it’s an experience not to be missed.

The film is about the dilemmas of choice and responsibility, and the burdens of belonging. It’s the story of a damaged young working-class Bostonian (played by Damon) who works as a janitor at MIT and is discovered solving math problems that defeat even the most gifted students. As he is plunged into the competitive world of academia, he has to decide whether to follow his heart—which his best friend (Ben Affleck) urges him to do—or the self-destructive impulses that are the legacy of his upbringing.

These boys haven’t arrived out of the blue. Damon, who first grabbed audiences’ attention in Geronimo (1993) and then gave a fine performance in last year’s Courage Under Fire, plays the embattled lawyer in Francis Ford Coppola’s recently released The Rainmaker. Emerging from jock roles in films like Dazed and Confused (1993), Ben Affleck was outstanding this year in both Chasing Amy and Going All the Way. With Good Will Hunting, they’re finally going solo together.

INGRID SISCHY: I want to start at the beginning of your friendship. Did you both grow up in the same neighborhood?

BEN AFFLECK: Yes. Two blocks away from each other in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

MATT DAMON: Cambridge is not that big of a town. It’s like the People’s Republic of Cambridge.

AFFLECK: And people of similar political persuasions tend to flock together. Most lefties in “Cambridge County” know each other.

DAMON: And we were basically best friends since I was 10 and he was eight.

SISCHY: How did you meet?

DAMON: My mother is a professor of early childhood development, and she knew Ben’s mother—who’s a teacher of little kids—and sought her out after we moved back to Cambridge. So I was pretty much forced into hanging out with Ben.

AFFLECK: And Matt was a break-dancer at the time.

SISCHY: Can you remember, Matt, what Ben was like in those days?

DAMON: Absolutely. I remember exactly what he was like: gregarious, outgoing. It was no surprise that he grew up into the totally obnoxious guy he is now. Number one, he claims that I never struck him out in Little League. Which is total bullshit—I was the best pitcher in the league.

AFFLECK: That achievement in Little League grows exponentially with each passing year.

SISCHY: I see.

AFFLECK: We’re the warrior and the clown.

SISCHY: And how does that relate to your childhoods?

DAMON: Our childhoods were pretty normal.

SISCHY: But also informed by the worldview of your parents, I assume.

DAMON: Yes. My mother had written some books on war-play and those cartoons that are like commercials for action figures. What worried my mother about those shows was not only that they encouraged violent play, but also that they hampered creativity. So growing up for me was like you’d get some blocks and then you’d have to go make up a game. I was always making up stories and acting out plays; that’s just the way I was raised. Ben came from a more prestigious acting background.

AFFLECK: My dad was in a theater company in Boston for a long time, so I was always around that stuff.

SISCHY: Did you do theater in high school?

DAMON: A lot. I knew since I was 12 that I was going to be an actor. I was originally going to be a baseball player. Tiny Archibald was my favorite player—he’s called Tiny because he’s only six foot one. My father sat me down and said, “I’m the tallest Damon ever to evolve and I’m five eleven. But I’m never going to play in the NBA.” I gave up basketball at that moment and took up acting.

Whatever I did, I wanted to be the best at it. I remember that moment in The Natural when Robert Redford says, “I just want to walk down the street and have people say, ‘There goes Roy Hobbs, the best there ever was.'” So I was talking to my mother one day—this was when I was 16 or 17—and she goes, “Matt, why are you so obsessed with acting?” And I said, “Because someday I want to walk down the street and have people say, ‘There goes Matt Damon, the best there ever was.'” And she said, “Did I raise you? That’s just an egomaniacal pipe dream. How does it help other people?” Of course I hadn’t given much thought to that.

AFFLECK: In fact, in high school I can remember trying to convince Matt’s mother that not everybody in Hollywood was a total liar and scum. I was saying that there are people in Hollywood who have a social conscience, too. I only repeat this years later now that I realize it was a complete lie. [laughs]

SISCHY: Do you think that wanting to become actors in an academic town like Boston was a kind of rebellion for both of you?

DAMON: We weren’t too rebellious. But every time we sat down to dinner, Chris [Ben’s mother] would say, “Why don’t you guys become doctors?”

AFFLECK: I think our parents were concerned because everybody knows that acting is a difficult career. I don’t think they were that happy with the prospect of their kids facing a lifetime of rejection and scraping by for a sandwich and hoping we’d get free refills at the age of 45. But Matt and I were very straightforward about wanting to be actors. I really think that everybody would like to be an actor. Why wouldn’t they? It’s great work if you can get it. The one thing that prevents most people from saying, “I’m just gonna go to Hollywood!” is that it seems unrealistic.

SISCHY: So by high school you were on your way, in your minds at least?

DAMON: We used to have what we called “business lunches” in high school, which meant we met at the smaller cafeteria and got a table—

AFFLECK: —and worked out some business plans. We were really nerdy. So right now we’d like to skip ahead to these slightly cooler years. Otherwise this is going to get progressively embarrassing.

SISCHY: Well, here comes more embarrassment. Do you think there’s a narcissism quotient in wanting to be an actor?

AFFLECK: I’d say it’s the one quality that unites everybody in the film industry, whether you’re an actor, a producer, a director, or a studio executive. You want people to look at you and love you and go, “Oh, you’re wonderful.” It’s a nightmare. Narcissism is the part of my personality that I am the least proud of, and I certainly don’t like to see it highlighted in everybody else I meet.

DAMON: [laughs] But you know, long ago Ben and I convinced ourselves that didn’t mean us, too.

AFFLECK: It’s like all things in life: You have these qualities in you that are awful, and the best you can do is to try to be aware of them and actively try to diminish them.

SISCHY: At this point in your careers, you can presumably see both sides: You can see the ordinariness of who you’ve been, and you can see ahead of you, and fame looming on the horizon, right? Does the fame part seem attractive or horrifying?

AFFLECK: Making movies has become such a golden ring, and it’s all such a big business, that the rewards system has gotten totally out of whack. Suddenly, you’re treated in a manner befitting someone who is actually an important person. You get the best table, you get all this money, you get people saying, “No, no, I’ll pay the check.” It implies there’s a way of treating certain people as if they’re better than other people, and I don’t think you should do that. It’s difficult for me to see the benefits of fame, except that you get the chance to do the stuff you want to do. Aside from that, the only other good thing I can imagine from being famous is that when I introduce myself, I no longer have to go, “A-f-f…” “A-s-s…?” “No, A-f-f, like Frank.” I get so much mail addressed to Mr. Asslick. That really drives me insane.   

SISCHY: [laughs] But don’t you think fame can be not only pleasurable but useful if you want to have some authority in the world and you want people to listen to what you have to say?

AFFLECK: I don’t think actors should have any authority in the world. It’s a scary world when actors have authority. That was the problem with Reagan.

DAMON: Yes, exactly. [laughs] Because somebody is on a television show or in a movie, does that qualify them to talk about an important issue? I have no problem with people who walk it like they talk it, but very few people do. It’s easy when everybody’s paying attention to you to say, “Well, here’s a cause.” But very few actors are moving out of their houses and getting out of their Range Rovers to pick up their fellow man. Those few who do are the real thing, and they usually don’t talk about it.

AFFLECK: Spare us the idiocy and let people who are qualified talk. Instead of listening to what Mariah Carey has to say about world peace, let’s hear from someone who at least has some experience in the matter.

DAMON: Look, I totally believe you should do things to better the world, but oftentimes there’s so much bullshit that just rings so hollow it kinda mucks up the waters. But then there’s a well-known actor I know who has a life goal to change the laws so that tax credits will be given to big corporations for investing in orphanages. He’s got a whole system worked out, but it’s not about him. I think that some actors are more interested in having people think they want to help people than in actually helping them.

AFFLECK: Or in assuaging some sense of guilt because they know they’re overpaid.

SISCHY: I think that often the first thing that happens when someone is a success is they start to feel like a fake, so they need to show how true they are.

AFFLECK: The imposter syndrome. I wonder if there’s anybody who doesn’t feel that way at some time.

SISCHY: Matt, you went to Harvard, right? Did the idea of going there and wanting to be an actor contradict what that place is supposed to be about?

DAMON: Not at all. They saw that I was dedicated to something and that I tried hard at it. The opening line in the essay for my application to Harvard was, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be an actor.”

SISCHY: What was your college experience, Ben?

AFFLECK: It was much more choppy.

DAMON: There are few colleges that Ben hasn’t gone to.

AFFLECK: Then I decided that 20 grand a year could be better spent on things like liquor and women. And so that’s the way I went.

DAMON: Ben’s too modest to tell you this, but he’s the most well-read person I know. He’s certainly a lot smarter than I am.

AFFLECK: That’s why we stayed friends: because we lie for each other in crucial moments. It gets you through a development meeting, I can tell you that.

DAMON: “I didn’t want to say anything with Ben in the room, but yes, he did kill somebody, and he feels really strongly that the scene has to stay where it is.”

SISCHY: When you each went your different ways after high school, did you feel in your heart of hearts and in your gut of guts that you would remain friends and end up writing something together—as you eventually did with Good Will Hunting, the movie that opens in late December, that’s got both of you in it, and that’s directed by Gus Van Sant?

AFFLECK: Matt and I had identical interests, so whether we ended up successful or making hot dogs at Dodgers games, we knew we’d end up doing the same sort of thing. The remaining friends part was pretty consistent. We saw each other all the time, we talked on the phone all the time.

SISCHY: Was there ever a period where you lost it with each other?

AFFLECK: Like got mad at each other?

DAMON: [laughs] He cheated on me in ’87. That was a very dark time. But to answer your question: No, we don’t really fight.

AFFLECK: We just pout.

DAMON: Well, you do throw these screeching hissy fits.

AFFLECK: Actually, I’m always self-conscious about Matt and I being boring.

DAMON: We’re constantly accused by people who come in and out of our circle of friends that we’re the most boring people ever. There are people who go, “I got tickets to see so-and-so, and why don’t you guys come?” We’re like, “Yeah, whatever,” and end up at the same bar every night with the same people telling the same old jokes. We’ve always been that way.

SISCHY: And when you’ve had relationships, have you always respected who each other’s chosen?

AFFLECK: There’s respect, but I think you have a false relationship if you pretend all the time that everything’s fine. I think you can only have a healthy friendship with somebody if you’re willing to say, “Listen, man, you’re not fucking picking up after yourself,” or “The person you’re dating is obnoxious.” I think that happens and you kind of accept it.

DAMON: Ben and I’ve lived together in probably 10 different apartments with 10 other people who we grew up with at different times, and the arguments are always the same. For example, I’m a slob and I get yelled at for not cleaning up when the house is a mess. When Ben brings the hookers over, it’s—

SISCHY: Are you roommates now?

DAMON: We were up until a few months ago. We had a place in New York, but we didn’t live there because we were both off doing movies. Now Ben’s living with his girlfriend in L.A. and I just finished working on a film, so I’m going to stay with a friend of mine, Cole Hauser, who’s one of the actors in Good Will Hunting.

SISCHY: Was Ben always the one with all the girls calling?

AFFLECK: That was Matt, really. I was a total failure with girls; it was a catastrophe. It was the girls from the United Way that called me. [laughs] The real story is that I have a problem with the telephone and I don’t return phone calls if I can’t deal with something. It’s not because I’m cool—it’s because I’m a loser and I’m afraid of dealing with something that’s awkward and uncomfortable.

DAMON: Which made one of our roommates mad. He would say, “Would you just call her back? That’s all you have to do.” And Ben would say, “Yeah, I know. I will, I will.” And then the phone would ring again and he wouldn’t take the call.

AFFLECK: Matt’s just better at being diplomatic about these things. 

DAMON: The warrior-and-the-clown thing again.

SISCHY: All right, so let’s move on from the romance to work. How did Good Will Hunting come about?

AFFLECK: While Matt was still at Harvard, I went back to visit him and he was working on a story.

DAMON: I was doing a playwriting class and a theater directing class with David Wheeler, who knew this world that Ben and I both come from. And when Ben came back from L.A. for Christmas, I showed him this thing I’d written and—because he knows David, too—he came into the class and we acted it out. It was a scene from what later became Good Will Hunting. Then, when spring break came around the following March, I went to L.A. to audition for a part in Geronimo, which I ended up getting. By then I had this 40-page thing and didn’t know what to do with it. I gave it to Ben, and he looked at it and said, “This is really good. We should write this together.” And I said, “I know, but I don’t know where it should go,” and he said, “I don’t either,” but we agreed to write it. After about a year, Ben and I started talking one night, and the script began flowing right out. Then we wrote it very fast.

SISCHY: Did you each take different parts of it and write them and then show each other?

AFFLECK: We did some of that when we were apart.

DAMON: Once we started, we really got into a groove. While I was away, I’d write and fax the stuff to Ben, and Ben would fax stuff to me, and we’d write on and edit each other’s faxes. It was basically the same as sitting in a room saying, “No, no. I think you should say that.”

SISCHY: What’s the movie about?

DAMON: First of all, let me preface this by saying we are the worst people in the world at doing pitches. We could make a really good movie sound terrible, and this one’s not very high-concept to begin with.

AFFLECK: The thrust of the movie is that it’s about a kid from a working-class neighborhood in South Boston.

DAMON: He’s an orphan, a born genius, who’s discovered working as a janitor at MIT, and it’s about him being caught between all these different worlds: the world of his friends; the world of the therapist [played by Robin Williams] he comes in contact with; the world of this really amazing woman [Minnie Driver] he meets who challenges him; and then there’s the lure of the world his genius introduces him to, which is represented by this math professor [Stellan Skarsgård]. So he has to face all these different forces that are at work. It’s like a comedy and a drama and a coming-of-age story.

SISCHY: Would you say the film is about your friendship or that it’s in any way autobiographical?

DAMON: It has those elements, but it’s a totally fictional story.

AFFLECK: Telling this story came naturally to us. It wasn’t like we sat down and had a formula. It was much more like: Well, what would be fun to act?

DAMON: We never fancied ourselves writers. And actually, it was a source of embarrassment for us when we sold the script, because a lot of our friends really are writers and can write a lot better than we can, except maybe dialogue. Writing a script is different, though, because to me it’s not really writing. It’s acting, is what it is. We still don’t call ourselves writers. We just kind of go, “Well, I guess that worked.”

SISCHY: When you began the script, was it partly because you weren’t getting the roles you wanted at that time?

AFFLECK: Right. If no one else was going to give us the chance to do the kind of acting we could do, we decided we’d just make this movie ourselves—however we could do it, low-budget, whatever. The whole idea was to have a videotape on the shelf at the end of the day and be able to say, “We made this.”

DAMON: We wrote it right out of frustration. It was like, “Why are we sitting here? Let’s make our own movie.” And if people come to see it, they come; and if they don’t, they don’t. Either way it beats sitting here going crazy. When you have so much energy and so much passion and no outlet for it and nobody cares, it’s just the worst feeling. And there are hundreds of thousands of people like that in L.A. right now. This whole “I’m too cool to care” thing you get among young actors in this country is so weak and stupid and played out, and it just brings everybody down. You shouldn’t be too cool to care, for Christ’s sake. You should be full of vim and vigor, and trying to do everything you can to make a change.

SISCHY: What happened next with the Good Will Hunting script?

AFFLECK: We are living proof that fortune favors the fool more than once. We showed it to our agents and various other people—

DAMON: And it literally turned into a four-day event. It started on a Monday, and by the Thursday night there was an all-out bidding war for the script.

SISCHY: That was about three years ago. What was going on in your lives at the time?

DAMON: My engagement* hadn’t worked out, so I was living with our other buddy, Soren.

AFFLECK: I had broken up with my girlfriend and I was sleeping on the couch of their apartment.

SISCHY: And career-wise?

DAMON: For five years or so, our bank accounts would get down to the point where we needed to get a job and another job would come along—although it wasn’t always a lot of money.

SISCHY: Did you help each other out from time to time?

AFFLECK: Oh sure, if either of us needed money he could borrow it from the other. Neither one of us ended up taking. It was never one-sided.

DAMON: If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half—that’s just the way it’s been.

SISCHY: Did it suddenly feel surreal having all those meetings?

DAMON: It was the first time we realized how Hollywood works. We’d both gone in for a lot of auditions, but when you actually have something that people are trying to buy from you, it’s a whole different thing.

AFFLECK: It was wild. We were kind of giddy. We would come out of a meeting with both our heads to the phone waiting to hear the newest offer. And the offers kept going up. You know, it would be, “And now Castle Rock’s in…”

DAMON: It was like we’d won the lottery.

SISCHY: Were you scared it was going to fall apart?

DAMON: We were afraid on a human level. We were talking about the difference between eating Spam every day and being able to buy a three-bedroom house with a pool table and new cars. So here we are, and we sell the script to Castle Rock.

AFFLECK: The idea was to do what was best for the movie, which was to get it made. But after a year, we had a falling-out with them and they gave the script back to us with a 30-day turnaround period, which meant if we didn’t sell it within 30 days they’d get the movie back and would be able to do what they wanted with it. It was either make it with who they were asking us to make it with or take this risk. We were basically being fired and offered tickets to the premiere of this thing we’d put three years of our lives into, and which was now starring—

DAMON: —someone who wasn’t us. So we sat down with Chris Moore, our producer, and said, “What are we going to do?” Thanks to Chris, Miramax came to the rescue. Gus Van Sant knew of us—my brother, Casey**, had acted in To Die For [1995]—and we heard he wanted to direct Good Will Hunting. We loved the idea, because we respect him so much. Gus has this way of delivering earth-shattering news in the most disarming, nonflustered flat monotone. “Yeah, I want to direct it,” he said. “That’s if you want to do it. OK. Bye.” So, as Ben said, fortune was in favor of us fools—and we’re happy.

-

[NOTE: This interview seems to have a couple of inaccuracies. *Ben was the one who broke off his engagement; **Casey is Ben's brother.]

[backagainpodcast]

dear babapodcast,

oh entity who posteth in this blog, might you behold mutual whimsy and enlightenment with answers to these queries three:

in what context are you writing a thesis? how do you feel about it? what is it?

in what context do you actively swing swords for a job? in what context did you learn? swords [y/n. this action will use up an additional 33.00 Kb of storage on your drive].

in which of many ways have you been referred to in your life? which would you be referred to now? which would the ideal, now?

good knight,

1609

dear anonymous user who submits queries three,

ONE --- I'm at the beginning of the last year of my undergrad (graduating early, which is why it's spring and I'm... now starting my senior year) and you've gotta write a fat research paper to graduate!!! I'm writing about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight being fruity asf (old news) through what is hopefully an academically relevant and not-old-news lense.

While the dread of grad school apps/The Real World/graduating is SO SCARY, this will be project #3 I am doing about Sir Gawain, because he's my most special little guy in the world, and I am having a wonderful time. It's a dream thesis class being taught by one of my favorite professors Ever. There are three thing I have hyperfocused on in my time at university, and those are 1) crows 2) twice-exploding Seattle gay bar Shelly's Leg, and 3) Gawain <3 so. Could not be happier!!

TWO --- lol, so I work at a LARP camp in the summers, which means that knowing how to use a longsword is a useful skill. Also playing DND is a useful skill. Also sewing is a useful skill. Also---

I learned such through doing HEMA, which brings me to my next point ---you, too, should join HEMA!!! HEMA stands for Historical European Martial Arts, though "European" is oft a misnomer, at least in the PNW. I write enough about swords that I started learning how to use them, and now there are five swords in my apartment and I've spent many hours sewing flowers onto my gambeson. 10/10 recommend, but learn from where I've made mistakes and always wear thicker and better gloves than you think you need to. Hockey gloves or gauntlets. I'm so serious. Finger injuries suck so much.

I study longswords from the Fiore and varied KDF traditions, sword and buckler (mostly i.33, but I'm fond of Silver), and have dabbled just enough to be #annoying with basket-hilted broadswords and montantes. I love swords so much.

THREE -- Forgive me if I have misunderstood your last query --- I'm Abigail Eliza, a lot of folks shorten that to Gale (like the wind), and I use she/they pronouns!! Those r all great ways to refer to me :)

[dvar-trek]

wip weekend

everything's fine i am just having multiple consecutive hell weeks at work it's fine. anyway, here's 87 pictures of what i've been up to.

mitts: bizarre problem encountered when i got to the end of the first mitt. pattern said to pick up stitches along the cast-on edge and use the three-needle bind off to join the edges, but drop 8 of the picked up stitches for the thumb hole. and then.... never says what to do with the yarn from those dropped stitches.

sent it to my cousin, the family's reigning pattern queen, who agreed that there's just. a step missing from this pattern or something. so i cast off as normal, and i'm going to block them flat and seam them.

behold! mitts!

i do desperately want to know what i was SUPPOSED to do though. after many experiments, this is the closest thing i could come up with, and it involved 3 working yarns, 4 needles, and 6 ends to weave in (plus more when i add the wrist strap on the real thing).

and the resulting hole seems.... not that stable ? the white tail that emerges from the thumbhole really REALLY wants to let loose and unravel.

now taking suggestions for 3N BO that leaves a functional thumbhole, if any of you are so inclined. i so dearly want to know what the designer had in mind.

bag: hurts my hands 😭

i might be stuck knitting flat for the rest of my life tbh.... i'm going to try moving up a cable length (16" to 20") to see if that helps at all, but it's been a significant strain on my grip and wrists so far. not as bad as on DPNs, but. not good. also not loving this yarn. i'm using Lamb's Pride bulky in Prairie Fire, which is a great color, but the yarn itself is sooooo slippery and splits sooooo easily that it's not really. the most fun i've ever had. switching from rosewood tips to bamboo tips helped a bit in this case, but. we'll see!

slippers: i started these at my dad's house, and finished them this past week.

i used Lang Snowflake in 1072.0087 (aka pink) and the pair took less than the full skein. had to restart twice because i wasnt compensating enough for my tiny stitches. ultimately CO 42 st, including 3 st garter border on either side. with so many stitches, i split the decreases into 3 rows (one row of k1, k2tog and 2 rows of k2tog. straps are 4 st across.) (<- boring notes for future nyx that could go on ravelry, but i don't have the patience for that).

very happy with the finished slippers! they came out a little long—if i make another pair in the future, i'll have to go down a half to a quarter inch—but they're warm and cozy, and the straps keep them from falling.

ALSO! this week at work was a conference week, so while listening to speakers i got a fair amount of knitting in. i wasn't the only one knitting, but i still fielded sO many judgemental questions and comments about my slippers.

a few of my favorite students want to learn to knit now though, so i might be starting a weekly lunch series with them! they spend so much time in class, and hopefully being able to knit during lectures will keep them from a) falling asleep and b) going on twitter. currently brainstorming how to execute this, but cautiously excited about the possibility.

just started: an experiment combining two patterns.

if it works out, i'd like to use it on what's left of the yarn i made the mitts with.

bonus content:

comrade boris is ready to be adopted! tell all your friends!

[bleedingearth]

BEHOLD TEIRESIAS. that comic panel is blowing my brain open Doom patrol is so transgender i love rachel pollack i can’t wait until i have time to read the pollack omnibus. but like. that panel talking abt dante & his references to epic poetry is also making me go craaaaazy bc i just finished studying the aeneid for class 😭😭😭 behold teiresias…

edit: also the biblical reference and tower of babel i’m jumping up and down actually. due to the fact that i am a ridiculous person & my two favorite things are dc doom patrol and ancient literature.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken, Chapter Eighteen: Fallout

A cruel wound. A familiar face or two. A brilliant plan.

AO3 | Playlist | Masterpost

-----

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: FALLOUT

Kayne is almost free before Jon can pull him into the Dark World.

Almost isn’t enough.

They separate into a place too strange to parse, too different to comprehend, but Jon can spend no focus on it as Kayne wheels around and comes at him again.

Jon tries the Buried next—the fear of constriction and crushing and drowning blasting through him and out like messy, projectile vomit.

Doesn’t feel great.

Absolutely not his favorite thing.

But the human fear is just different enough that it stops Kayne’s forward charge. 

Kayne’s veer away comes so close, so last-moment, that air filling in the vacuum of his absence sucks Jon’s hair forward to cover his face.

He can’t see yet, anyway. He can feel himself adjusting, feel the Eye adapting him to whatever dimension he’s found himself in, but there’s no time to be grateful or afraid. 

Kayne is coming again, too big, too much, playfully ripping up the ground and flinging things into the air like a willful tornado.

Jon is well aware this will not keep working.

It only ever worked at all because it’s so weird, because human fears feel so different from whatever Kayne experiences that self-preservation made him swerve.

But it’s not going to last. He’ll adapt. Probably already has.

Kayne laughs, though words like laugh don’t work for this lightning-strike of a sound, and Jon has no time to think of a better one as Kayne comes at him again like a charging bull.

Jon’s already exhausted. Gods may have some unending channel of power to drink, but Jon barely qualifies in that weight class, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Also, Kayne is not a god. 

Lonely won’t work. Devastation will only appeal. Corruption, he’d fucking enjoy. Jon has one trick left: the Eye.

The fear of not just being seen, but known, cataloged down to the smallest minutiae.

This one doesn’t hurt to use at all.

It feels like expelling a breath held too long, like straightening after dropping a heavy burden, like plunging into cold water after a hot and sweaty day.

It pours out of him, and Kayne makes a displeased and dangerous sound. There is no unraveling, there is no coming-apart as with that underling Jon took out so long ago, but the fear of it is just, barely, only enough to swerve Kayne away.

Or maybe it didn’t work, this is just a game, and by using this core Beholding skill, Jon has made him mad.

Jon cannot even sense Kayne coming again this time, and the force of the collision briefly knocks him into semi-consciousness.

Figures, he thinks vaguely at the sense of his back being shredded along some rough and rubble ground, that it would be a concept that got him in the end.

The Crawling Chaos, the Undoing, the eternal-existing-embodiment of Insanity and Instability, pins him and laughs like broken glass. Just to be mocking, he’s back in his human guise, seated high on Jon’s stomach where he’s missing ribs, too heavy and suffocating. “Oh! Full of surprises, aren’t you? Oh!”

Jon tries to struggle. Kayne catches both his hands with ease and pins them over his head.

“Get off me!” Jon says between clenched teeth. His back is on fire; he can feel gravel (or whatever he’s on) piercing him, digging into his skin, and thinks it’ll require surgery to get it all out. 

His vision has almost adapted, but it’s… difficult to comprehend.

There isn’t a sky. Well. There is—there is space, area, above and around, but it isn’t sky.

There isn’t a ground. Well. There is—there is solidity, foundation, something upon which he rests and is held in the arms of gravity.

Except it isn’t ground, and that’s not gravity.

None of this is the physical world, and he—in a physical body—is struggling to translate the sensations.

Kayne is in his face, and his hand on Jon’s chest feels as long as Michael’s used to be. “You,” he says, “are more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Then don’t bother,” Jon gasps, wincing as debris forces itself into the skin of his back.

“You know, I’m tempted?” says Kayne, and taps his too-sharp fingers; each point of contact with his fingernails ripples Jon’s reality, like a spear-tip dipped into a pond. “I could kill you. It’d almost be worth it to just deal with the other one’s mopes for a few centuries until he gets it out of his system, but I’m not exactly the caretaking type, and that sounds dull. So! Let’s do this instead.”

And then he shreds Jon’s soul.

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt.

Like the shock of breaking a bone and discovering pain in a place that never felt like anything before.

The shock of feeling himself ripping, himself savaged in some way, is so much worse than death.

Jon screams. Maybe. It feels like the sound he makes has nothing to do with lungs and throat, but comes from somewhere wordless and true.

“I knew you’d cry pretty!” says Kayne the same way he’d say, ah-ha! “Just wait ‘til I teach Martin how to do this, am I right?” And he does it again. 

It slits teasingly through the part of him that loves being the Pupil of the Eye, embraces the devouring eternity of voracious and infinite hunger.

Gashes deliciously into his taut, tendon-self held in constant tensile strain, and he’d do anything to make it stop, and won’t do anything to make it stop, all at the same time.

It is exquisite. 

It should not be.

Kayne is talking. Jon has no idea what was already said. “—really made for this, aren’t you? You just start adapting to anything that doesn’t kill you right off. I have to say, I’m impressed! This has to be bred into you, somehow. Your Web is just… mm, nifty.”

“Not my Web,” Jon argues, gasping, because he’s an idiot, and knowing that has never shut him up.

“Uh-huh,” says Kayne, and pulls his claws out.

This is agony. Now all the pain rolls in, now it’s only damage with no trembling hints of anything better, now it hurts so much it threatens to blunt him.

Jon can only groan.

“I mean, I still hate you, you know?” says Kayne, tapping his fingers again on Jon’s chest. They’re coated in something—it almost looks like liquid light, glowing green and dripping. “You are the literal worst, disgustingly mindful, wrapping everything up in suffocating plastic so it dies with its face smeared in blood from its lungs. But maybe I’m projecting.”

He has to ask, has no capacity to be anything other than what he is right now. “Projecting what?” 

And to his horror, Beholding billows through the words, compelling without permission or warning.

Kayne is not a god, and it does nothing.

He answers, though. “Oh, Hastur, of course—all rigid and annoying. Fuck with him too much, and he just shatters.” Kayne leans in, and there is blood on his breath. “But that’s not you, though, is it? No. You’re malleable.” His claws worry whatever invisible wounds he made, and Jon loses track again.

He feels the Dread Powers feeding on him. His fear. His horror.

Kayne doesn’t give a flip if Jon survives this or not—but the Eye does, and keeps him from being fully devoured, prevents him from falling apart, because it loves him, because it mindlessly holds him in something beyond mere “fondness” for its own.

Jon keeps his eyes closed. They ache.

“—possibilities,” says Kayne, who also doesn’t give a flip if Jon can hear him. “I hate that, too? I mean, you taste like overcooked broccoli smells. Overripe garbage bag in the summer, hit by a truck and all over the street. But this could be so useful.” And he whines, twisting on top of Jon like a tantruming child, grinding him into the grit.

It all hurts, inside and out, but it doesn’t matter. Worth it. Kayne’s here, trapped, away from Martin, and—

“You do know the way is open, right? You don’t know how to close them yet.” Kayne laughs. “Dumbass.”

No. 

So he could go back? 

“Yep!”

Take Martin anyway?

“Yep!”

No.

No—

“Don’t start trying now, you silly goose. You’ve got a purpose! An oh-so-special goal in mind, a rescue, if you will, and once you fulfill it, we can all leave this chapter behind and open the better book in the series.”

Jon tastes blood, and something that isn’t blood. Maybe it’s green and glowing, like whatever coats Kayne’s hand. “But you... would lose your bet.”

Kayne snorts. “Look. I’m telling you this because I haven’t had anybody to boast to, and you don’t matter: he bound me with my own damned will. What little I have to expend to eat god-flesh, anyway, which isn’t a lot, but it goes to the core of me—Devourer, you see, so when I’m eating is about the only time it could be done. He didn’t bind me with his will. He can’t. So it doesn’t matter if I win or lose, because I eat him either way, but I don’t want to win. I want to lose, because when he tries to bind me himself, he invalidates the previous binding, and I get to overrun him. It’s so much more than winning. It’s defeat. Destruction. Devastation. I’ll eat him live and screaming, and take my time with every bite. Capisce? Oh, and I’m telling you so you know not to fuck with me. No one can. Understand? No one.”

Jon is stunned.

The horror of this—of the one controlling factor that seemed safe, revealed as fragile and easily undone—is terror straight through his bones. 

Martin. He has to do something.

“Can’t,” says Kayne. “But anyway, you have a job to do, and so do I. Thanks for bringing my book.” There’s a sound as if he patted the macabre cover. “Gamble, but it paid off. You know how it works: blood to blood, flesh to flesh… skin to skin.” And he finally rolls off him.

Jon doesn’t move. Can’t yet. 

This makes what Hastur put him through feel like getting shoved in the playground.

“Nice simile! Kind of weak, though. You know what? I’ve just got to make it worse.” And he covers Jon, ignoring whimpers, pressing lips to Jon’s ear as Jon turns his face away. 

“Everybody loves to hurt you,” Kayne whispers, branding with every word. “I’m beginning to see the appeal. Maybe this is what you’re for. Maybe this is why it all goes wrong around you, all the time. Maybe you just need to give in to this. To being mine, made into chaos hunting knowledge to digest it, burn it from existence, with Martin as your smiling knife. And you’d finally give reality what’s coming to it, after all.”

And he’s gone.

Jon gasps, tries to push the images back, to stop seeing what Kayne shoved into his head like a memory of what is to come. 

Those images are vivid, but that’s not why this poison immediately runs deep, staining his veins in blotches and pain. 

Part of him wants to do it.

To lash back at a reality that keeps hurting him and hurting Martin.

To take knowledge and destroy it somehow, at the Eye that did this to him.

But the Eye didn’t. Not really.

It wouldn’t even understand what was going on.

The Web? Sort of. But doing this wouldn’t hurt her.

And… it would take the choice away from Martin.

If Jon gave in, Martin might follow. Jon doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want him in a position without choice.

Maybe it’s a stupid reason. Maybe it’s a piece of lint, crushed between cogs. 

Maybe. But it’s enough to push this tempting train wreck of a future away, to see Kayne’s words as a threat and not a way forward.

Slowly, unable to keep from crying, Jon sits up.

He’s in a junkyard. Mountains of sooty refuse rise all around beneath a vibrant, green sky.

“What the blazes?” he says.

“Hello, Jon,” says Jonah Magnus, and the shock is so bad that it takes Jon a full ten seconds before he can bring himself to turn around. 

#

Jonah doesn’t look like Elias, but it’s him. Same eyes. Same smile.

Not quite the same eyes, actually. They’ve gone silver and flat, no visible pupil, reflecting Jon back at himself.

Not that those eyes should be anything, because he’s not physically here.

It hurts to look at him. Jon’s certain his brain is trying to compensate, like filling in colors that don’t exist. “Jonah?” he says.

“Imagine finding you here,” says Jonah.

“Is this where you were the whole time?” Jon knows that’s a stupid question, a waste of a question. He can’t think.

He tries to stand, feels shreds of something inside him trembling like fat on a hook, and sits back down again.

“Goodness, Jon, that does look painful,” says Jonah with great cheer.

“Wh… you….” He hadn’t even considered this, hadn’t been ready. “Go away.”

“Mm,” says Jonah noncommittally. “You’ll forgive me if I pester, but since arriving here, I can no longer read the living, and thus, am reduced to asking: what are you doing here? Also, what just happened? What was… that?”

“Concept of chaos, embodied,” Jon murmurs, trying to stand again.

Jonah does not help him. “My, my. You’ve gone up in the world.”

“Look, what is this?” Jon manages a sort of crouch, leaning on his legs. He can’t seem to breathe right. “Revenge, or something? What do you want?”

“I’m curious. Is that so shocking? An arrival like that, I assure you, has gotten everyone’s attention, but, well. I actually know who you are, and so I am the sacrificial lamb, coming forward.”

Jon stares at him. “Wh… are you in a gang, or something?”

Jonah laughs.

“I don’t have time for this. Whatever this is.” Jon tries to straighten, discovers doing so makes him cough up blood tinged with something else, and ends up on his knees again.

“This is fascinating to watch,” says Jonah, peering down at him. “I have seen some ruination here, among the dead, but nothing quite like this. Did you know the dead don’t bleed?”

“Go away,” says Jon, looking around.

Junk. Junk, everywhere, that refuses to take form into anything he recognizes. What he needs, he thinks, is a cane, which would—

One lies in front of him, a quad-cane with four prongs for stability.

It wasn’t there before. Maybe.

Maybe his brain is filling in more gaps than mere appearance.

He takes it, shaking, and stands.

He’s weak. The four prongs are deeply necessary. How the hell he’s going to find anything here, much less a soul—

The Eye, of course, shows him, and he knows.

He knows where Arthur is.

It’s a distance. A ways away. But he can make it. He has to.

Jon starts to hobble.

“That’s fascinating to watch from this perspective,” says Jonah, slowly pacing him. “To see the power of the great Beholding, channeling through your rotten, riddled frame! Like pouring molten gold into a sieve.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” says Jon.

“Oh, I think that’s not true,” says Jonah. “You’re doing it right now.”

Jon wonders if it’s worth trying to whack him with the cane.

Then he imagines the cane going through whatever form Jonah has, imagines overbalancing and falling again, and the thought of how much that would hurt…

Jon stops walking for a moment and shudders.

“So very fragile right now.” Jonah tsks.

Jon refuses to answer.

#

The hobbling is hard.

The Eye has healed his body’s wounds (or his godhood has, or whatever), and the sensation of rubble popping out of his back to pebble along the ground is an indescribable weirdness he never wants to feel again.

But whatever Kayne did is not healing.

Or maybe it is, but so slowly that Jon can’t tell. Like regular wounds. 

He hopes. 

Jonah has not gone away. “I don’t dwell here, of course. You’ve landed in one of the… lesser areas.”

“So there are areas, now,” says Jon, switching the cane to his other hand. He still can’t catch his breath.

“Of course! This area is for pieces.”

“Pieces.”

“Pieces of souls, discarded, too discrete to be put back together. So tragic.” Jonah shakes his head.

“So what do you call home, then?” says Jon, unable to keep from asking.

“Well. Let’s be generous and call it hell. But then, everyone here is in hell, and if everyone’s there, is it really its own place?”

Jon swallows. “Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“That… there have to be exceptions.”

“Not that I’ve seen—and I don’t miss much, Jon.”

Jon stares at him.

Jonah shrugs graciously and looks up at the green sky. “Challenging, isn’t it? No matter what you do, no matter how good or evil, how young or old… you still end up in hell.”

Jon swallows and just keeps walking.

It can’t be true.

Jonah must be missing something.

There is an opening between garbage piles ahead, and he makes for it. Slowly.

“Do you know,” whispers Jonah, “that I entertained great fantasies of revenge for quite a while when I got here?”

“It hasn’t even been a year,” Jon grouses. 

“Really? Well. Regardless. I no longer do.”

“How wonderful for you,” Jon mutters, and stops.

Outside the piles of garbage is a glorious green field. Beyond that, a blue forest to one side, and what might be a desert on the other—an expanse of bronze and waving heat.

The thing that’s puzzling is the Eye says that Arthur is up.

Jon looks. There is no up. Only green sky.

“I have, in fact, forgiven you,” says Jonah.

“I don’t believe you,” says Jon.

“I’m not surprised. However… you should know there’s a bit of a rumor.”

“Rumor from whom? I haven’t even seen anyone else,” Jon snaps.

Jonah smiles. “That you’re here looking for a way to divest yourself of some… passengers.”

Jon stares at him. “How did….”

Jonah doesn’t answer. Just does that smile (and how it can be the same smile on such a different face, Jon doesn’t know).

The Ceaseless Watcher calls him, and he looks up again. Something isn’t adding up.

“I have a way,” says Jonah. “If you’re willing.”

“Put a pin in that,” Jon murmurs, staring straight up. “I… need a moment.” 

There is a whole layer above.

Something he can’t quite see.

Until he can.

Jon gasps.

The sky peels back. There is a ladder, flashing red and vaguely venous. A glimpse of bright white.

Jon starts climbing.

Jonah does not follow. “Your exit is down here. I’ll be waiting—wouldn’t want you to accidentally slip away before we’re finished, would we?”

“Marvelous,” Jon mutters, and climbs. 

#

He’s a shaking mess when he reaches the top.

He collapses onto soft ground, some kind of sand so fine he almost can’t feel it. Above is a blue-white sky, clouds sliding by; it looks like Earth, but overlaid. Jon suspects his brain is just doing the equivalent of creating maroon again.

He sits up.

And finds Oliver Banks.

Oliver smiles. “Hi.”

Jon stares. “What are you doing here? Wait.” And he blurts it. “You’re in hell?”

Oliver laughs lightly. “No, I’m not in hell—and it’s not really a binary, anyway? Some people up here are in bad shape, and some people down there are great. Point is, I’m okay, Jon. I wanted you to know that. As to what I’m doing here, well… time doesn’t work for us like it does for you right now,” says Oliver. “You’re still moving around in mortal time. For us, it’s… been a while since you got here. Everyone’s talking. Once I heard you were here, I had to find you.”

That sounds horrible. “What’s everyone? Why?” says Jon, and looks around.

There don’t seem to be crowds of spooks, ready to descend upon him. 

“They’re here to see what happens, mostly. You could do a lot of damage to anyone who bothers you, so no one’s going to like, come at you, or anything.” Oliver shrugs. “It’s like we’re all getting to watch Orpheus and Euridyce live, or something. But I wanted to see you to let you know it’s okay. I’m okay.”

And then Jon’s heart sinks. “You’re really dead.”

“It happens to everyone, Jon,” says Oliver, very gently.

“But you… you shouldn’t be yet, we… I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry.”

“And that’s why I opted to come see you,” says Oliver. “Everybody dies, Jon. It wasn’t your fault. I want you to know that.”

“But it is. It really directly is.” Jon looks for his cane and finds it gone. He frowns.

“It’s not. If you really want to blame anyone, you’d need to talk to the Web,” says Oliver. “Though I don’t think you’d get anywhere.”

“Forgive me, Oliver, but fuck the Web. Fuck all of them. I need… where did that cane go?”

“You don’t need it now.”

“I really do. I… I’ve been hurt.”

“I see that.” Oliver says it softly. “I don’t know how to even address it. I’m sorry.”

“I… it… it’s okay.”

“There are a lot of rumors as to why you’re doing this,” says Oliver. “From our point of view, you’re on a mission that’s lasting years.”

“You’re not making a very good case for death being in any way okay,” says Jon, and stands. Oliver was right. He suddenly needs no cane. “What?” says Jon.

“You’re in the good place now,” says Oliver with an absolutely shit-eating grin. 

Jon stares at him. “Heaven? I thought you said it wasn’t a binary.”

“It’s not. It’s people, Jon.”

“What, ‘hell is other people?’ Or being with you is heaven? What are you saying?” 

“Connection has a lot to do with it,” says Oliver. “Loving, being loved. That affects a lot.”

“So no one loved Jonah,” says Jon, and then feels a little badly for it.

“I don’t know. It’s not like just love alone is enough. You won’t find Bonnie and Clyde up here, either.”

Hm. “So it’s not a pass-fail and more of a sliding scale?”

“I don’t know.”

“But how does it work?” Jon says. “How do you go to one place or the other?”

“Hell if I know,” says Oliver, deadpan. “That was never my department.”

“Was that a pun?” says Jon, finally catching on.

Oliver laughs. “Jon… I meant it. I really don’t know. I’m at peace with it. I want you to know I’m at peace.”

“Well, of course you are, you’re here.”

Oliver laughs again.

Jon still doesn’t see anyone else, though now, he’s getting the impression of structures, left and right, distant, vaguely like clouds.

It’s all misty up here, light. Lovely. Like the ways he makes.

Exactly like the ways, in fact.

He’s not sure what that means.

“I’m not seeing a lot of things, am I?” Jon says.

“You could if you wanted to.”

“I don’t. I… I don’t.” It’s true. He’s at max capacity already, at the edge of effort. If he did that, trembling and bleeding as Kayne left him, he’s not sure he could make it back.

He feels like he’s hemorrhaging.

“Can… can I be attacked here?” he says, slowly.

“Yes, but I don’t think anyone will,” says Oliver. “You could do a lot more damage to them than they could to you.”

“I hope you’re right,” says Jon, worrying over Jonah.

He’s not sure what he’d do if Jonah tried.

“I think we’re close,” says Oliver.

The Eye says yes.

Jon stops. Looks right.

Looks harder.

And sees.

There is a pile of clay jars, small urns of different sizes, from six inches in height down to two. They’re polished, slightly shiny; narrow at the bottom and curving out gently to small lids with knobs on top. They’re brown, but each has a yellow stripe around the center.

“What’s this?” says Jon, softly.

“This is what happens if you’re not ready to move on,” says Oliver.

“Ready to move on?”

Oliver shrugs, smiling.

“You’re just going to do that the whole time, aren’t you? Hint at things, then not answer my questions.”

Oliver laughs softly. “I’m not trying to be frustrating. You’re living. There’s only so much we can talk about.”

“Why?” He already knows Oliver can’t or won’t answer that. “So these aren’t ready to move on. Did they decide that? Or did someone else? What does ‘ready to move on’ even mean?”

“Not a clue.”

Jon sighs. “For crying out loud, Oliver.”

Oliver laughs. There’s no derision in it.

Jon knows which jars he needs. He also knows he requires a—

His leather satchel is hanging across his chest as if it had been there the whole time.

Oliver waits.

“Am… am I allowed to do this?” says Jon.

“You can do whatever you want,” says Oliver. “I mean… there are consequences for things, probably, but I don’t know what they’d be for you. You’re alive. And, uh. You’re not really human anymore.”

“Neither were you,” says Jon.

“I was, though. Just an avatar. Used. You’ve become something else.” 

Jon looks away. His eyes sting. Is he destined for whatever hell is? Is Martin? “Love, you say. Connection. That can make a difference.”

“Mm.”

Jon exhales. “Right. Focus.” He kneels and picks up some of the jars. He knows which ones he needs.

Then he hesitates. Should he do something else here? Try to find his grandmother, or his parents, or something? 

Tim?

Sasha?

Is he allowed?

Is he even allowed to do this? “Cerberus or something isn’t going to come chasing me down for doing this, is it?”

Oliver laughs. “I don’t think so. The place isn’t equipped for the living, which is sort of unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?”

“There’s nothing to stop him from doing that.”

Jon looks down.

Kayne and—

Kayne and he’s got with him a—

Whatever it is, they are racing through that bad place so fast that piles of junk crash left and right, like children running through leaves.

“What was that?” says Jon.

“Don’t know. The living are very strange,” says Oliver with a shrug. 

#

“Move!”

“Watch out!”

Arthur, roll!

The King in Yellow, the insane half of Hastur that died while being eaten, has already destroyed the little dining room, smashed through the kitchenette, and brought this section of the palace down.

The chaos briefly worsened when Deep Ones came clambering up the wall, drawn by mayhem, but neither Arthur nor Martin had to deal with them because they got smashed.

Gods fighting is not, it turns out, a safe indoor activity.

Martin scrambles to his feet again and pulls Arthur with him. They’re covered in white marble dust, streaks of their blood stark on their skin, and they both know they aren’t going to get away.

Keep going! cries John.

Arthur starts, but Martin holds him back. “Caved in. We can’t go that way.”

“We’re trapped?” says Arthur.

“Yeah. Come on. Move.” Martin drags him back down the main hall—so close to the flailing monsters that chips of marble bite them—and into another room.

It’s an open room, yet another with a wall missing and a beautiful, wine-dark sea.

“Shit,” says Martin.

“More of those monsters?” guesses Arthur, based on the briny smell.

“No, these ones are dead. Lucky us. I see the corpses floating.”

The hall behind them thuds with terrible force, one deity hurling the other into the wall.

There’s nothing in this room. They can only retreat to the opening, which leads straight down to black rocks and the sea.

“Do you think it’s chasing us?” breathes Martin.

“John says it is,” gasps Arthur, who hates being this breathless. 

It is. He is. He’s fixated on you. On us. I don’t even think he knows who his other half is.

“But he killed him,” says Arthur. “He doesn’t know who he is?”

I feel the way this John did when this John killed him. The dead King is blind. He’s going for what’s familiar.

The crackling, ripping sound in the hall sounds like nothing so much as reality tearing. The bellow—

“There’s no way to tell which one that was,” Martin says, high and quiet.

Repeated slams. Dust or something falls from above, and a chunk of wall by the door comes down with a horrible bang.

“We have to do something,” says Arthur.

We can’t, Arthur!

“What?” says Martin.

“I don’t know! Something! He’s defending us! You realize that, don’t you? From moment one, he’s… he’s taking that to defend us.”

Because the attacker had turned toward them at once.

Because their King had taken precious seconds to place Arthur in safety instead of defending himself, and so the dead thing had drawn first blood.

Because their King had continued to come between the thing and Arthur, who could not see but could hear it calling his name.

The hissing of splattered ichor, the brain-shaking cries of pain, were already bad.

Martin had pulled Arthur to his feet and helped. They’d run. Run, while John shouted, trying to explain what was happening, failing to be of use.

Because what would be of use? Who could?

The dead King had continued trying to come after them, and now, half to half, there is an imbalance:

The living King doesn’t want to die, but the dead doesn’t give a fuck.

Arthur grips his knife. “I’m not lying down and taking this. If we do nothing, that fucking zombie will win, and we’re dead, anyway.”

Martin breathes hard, fast, and something in his face must tell John that he agrees.

Arthur, no! John says. We can’t do anything! Listen to me!

“Evil prevails when good men do nothing,” Arthur says, and he already knows he’s going to die.

He means it. He’s resigned. 

But he wants his pound of flesh before it happens.

John can’t do this. Arthur, please—

“I can help,” says Martin. “I….” He swallows. “Oh, gods. I could lose myself. I… I’m afraid. But if I do… if I do, Jon will find me. Oh, gods.” Martin rubs his face. “Okay. I’m ready.”

What? Ready for what?

“What are we going to do?”

“Help. Arthur, is that knife going to mean anything? It’s got my Jon’s blood, and yours. Can it still make portals?”

John is panicking. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you!

"Portals? You want to—ah! I see where you’re going. Yes, it should still do them. John, if we pull this off, you won’t lose me,“ says Arthur. 

Another horrible roar; one of them was hurt, and badly.

John knows there is no choice. I’m afraid.

“That might be in our favor,” says Arthur. 

Martin swallows. “Here’s my idea.”

#

He can’t let this thing get to Arthur.

It’s not his Arthur. He knows it’s not his Arthur, he knows he should let it go and focus on Jon’s way so he can rescue whatever Jon brings back. He knows that, he knows, he knows—

He can’t let this thing get Arthur again.

Not again.

Kayne is not helping.

Kayne, who is watching all of this, shouting random encouragements or threats, cheering for who knows what, and throwing popcorn.

Kayne, who had come bursting through the way Jon made (which the King had not known he could do), dragging the dead thing in his wake.

Was this an attempt at murder?

Was it just to fuck things up?

Was it to prevent him from being there to save Arthur’s soul when Jon reemerged?

There’s neither time to think, nor plan. The pain is bad. The threat is worse.

The dead King hurls himself toward that room again where that precious human is, and again, the living King gets in the way.

Playing defense leaves him vulnerable. 

He hadn’t played defense before. 

He hadn’t had anything to live for before.

This is a problem.

The dead King tries to just go through him.

The live King takes advantage of the lunge to take a chunk out of his enemy. Black flesh and black ichor fly, and the dead thing roars.

“Foul!” Kayne cries, and cackles. “He gets two points!”

There’s no time to even tell Kayne to shut the fuck up.

And then the living King feels Arthur disappear.

The shock freezes him, and the dead King tears into him.

He howls.

“Wow! Bravo! Encore!” says Kayne, who’s manifested some kind of barrier that makes ichor sizzle and slide to the floor instead of hitting him in the face. “Oh, and from left field we get a surprise pinch hitter!”

The King has no idea what that means, and he’s distracted by the fact that he cannot feel Arthur. Where did he go? It has to be obvious. It—

He hadn’t seen the mist.

He still doesn’t fully understand what’s happening when he sees Arthur appear out of nowhere and slash at the dead King.

There is one moment of horror, because Arthur is in reach, because Arthur has a stupid little knife, and he is vulnerable—

Then he disappears again.

Kayne is laughing, rolling, holding his sides.

The dead king, with no Arthur to rage against, has turned its full mad wrath on the living.

Something is happening.

The living King feels it—the messy opening of a portal, an ungraceful tearing of reality’s walls, and the dead King howls as though in great pain.

Arthur is back there. Arthur is doing something. 

The dead King turns.

The live King rips into the dead King’s exposed side, stopping that turn, drawing attention back toward himself.

Another wing of the palace rumbles, collapsing further down, and the King is briefly grateful that he no longer has worshippers here, because they would all die.

“Now!” Blackwood shouts from somewhere.

“Hey, you son of a bitch!” calls Arthur.

We’re here! shouts John, confirming at least a unified madness in whatever is going on.

“Let him come!” shouts Arthur.

That was for him.

Let the thing go? Let it turn? Let it go after Arthur again?

He can’t. He can’t—

“And the starting gun has fired!” Kayne cries. “Who will cross the finish line first? Will it be our beast from the east, Hastur? Or our thunder from down under, also Hastur! Dead versus life! Need versus want! Reason versus… whatever it is the dead guy has!”

Can he trust whatever plan is happening? He pulls the dead King back to himself with another swipe.

“Let him come!” Arthur shouts again. “Hey! Fuckwad! Coward! Hey! I stole him from you! I’m never giving him back! You can’t make me! Go fuck yourself, King in Yellow!”

The living King could almost laugh. Hastur is the name, but Arthur doesn’t know it, and—

The dead King turns again, and the living King lets him.

Arthur is in full view, standing on a pile of rubble, waving his arms. “Over here, you cocksucking son of a bitch!”

You’ll never get me back! John cries. You’re weak! Weak without me!

And the living King sees what they’re doing, and is amazed.

The dead King lunges.

The dead King is completely focused, mental blinders on, psychical vision tunneled.

The dead King reaches ruined, pitted tentacles toward Arthur, weakened and rotting but more than enough to crush one little human.

Martin Blackwood steps out of fog, out of nowhere, and touches the dead King.

Hungry mist like bubbling coldness washes from Martin and onto the dead King, engulfing that side of his body.

That’s enough to distract anybody, even an insane dead god, and the dead King turns toward him, roaring.

Now! says John, and Arthur leaps.

Leaps with the knife in both hands, over his head and plunging.

Leaps as the dead King pulls away from Martin, panicked at however the Lonely feels to him, distracted from Arthur’s completely insane move.

Arthur plants that knife in the dead King’s back and drags it down with his weight and inertia, creating an enormous gash.

John chants.

And the two wounds—one smaller, one bigger—open portals inside the zombie King.

At the same moment, coordinated, Blackwood disappears, and his fog takes another chunk with him.

Arthur staggers back, in reach of flailing limbs, but Blackwood reappears, grabs him, vanishes.

It is the most beautiful plan the living King has ever seen, but he can’t pause to appreciate it.

The dead King is badly wounded, chopped in thrain, and now is the chance to defeat him.

The living King takes that chance.

#

Martin is lost.

The Lonely is so strong here.

And it doesn’t feel bad, and he has no warning twinges of conscience or heart, and he wants to just let it have Arthur because it wants to have Arthur, but he remembers himself enough to shove Arthur back out.

Then he falls to his knees.

He isn’t even breathing hard.

This was… 

This was a lot.

It’s only beginning to hit him just how many lives Peter Lukas must have sacrificed in order to step in and out of the Lonely with such ease and not be devoured himself.

Jon, Martin thinks, but there is no emotion accompanying it.

Jon, I… 

Kayne fists his jumper in both hands and pulls him to his feet.

“That was very nice,” Kayne says in his face. “Very impressive, though I wish you’d just let it play out. Bad idea to take a side that isn’t mine, Martin.”

“We were going to die,” Martin says, calm.

Kayne smiles, baring his teeth. “We’re in the end game now, so I think it’s time to start setting some guidelines. One: you are a toy. If you break, I will say, ‘Aw, shucks,’ and go find another one. But that doesn’t mean I’ll like it if you break.”

He shakes him once, hard, and Martin’s teeth clack together. The pain cuts through the ghostliness of the Lonely, briefly bringing sharp fear in its wake.

He grips Kayne’s hands on his jumper, but he can’t dislodge them.

“Two: when your fucking god of Arepo comes back out, and we all go on to season two, I am going to punish you for moving against me just now. You cannot avoid it. You cannot make it less. You are just going to have to take your medicine, because this will not be repeated.” Another teeth-rattling shake.

Is he stronger than the Lonely? Martin thinks, panicked, because something painful is pushing the numbness away, because he feels the Lonely reaching for him, but dissipating like in a warm wind.

“Three: once we start playing for real, here’s what you’re going to do. Not move against me, ever. Not die. Not break. Not fail. We will keep your hideous lover close. You fail, and I hurt him—not anything he can shrug off, either, like what Hastur did. You die, you break, you fail, and I won’t just kill him. No. I will keep him so long—in the tenderest way I can—that he curses your name for not stabbing him again on your way out. Capisce?”

Martin stares. His whole being feels frozen. 

He’s never been so afraid. He can’t think a way around this. Can’t think of a way to appease.

Kayne smiles. “Now, it’s not all dire. One of the things I love about humans is they all have the ability to exceed factory settings, and I expect that of you. I’ll reward you for pleasing me. I know how dogs work.” Close, almost kissing close. “I know you understand. I can see we’re clear. So we won’t need to repeat any of this, will we? You know by now I don’t like to do that.”

“You won’t need to repeat it,” Martin whispers, because that’s what Kanye wants to hear.

“Good toy.” Kayne releases him, straightens his jumper, pats his cheek, then hurls him out of the Lonely and back into the ruined palace.

#

Arthur stumbles and falls, gasping.

He can’t decide if it’s better or worse to be out of that place. If it’s better or worse than the Hunt. If it’s better or worse than he was before the Fears got a whiff of him in the first place.

There’s an oof by his feet.

Martin. He’s on the ground.

“Martin?” says Arthur.

Martin does not answer.

Arthur, I don’t think he’s okay. He’s just lying there, face all twisted, eyes closed. 

“Hey.” Arthur finds him by touch and tries to pull him up to sitting. “Hey.”

Martin is stiff as a board, as if he’s actively being electrocuted.

“Stay with me. Come on.” 

Martin can’t. 

He’s in shock.

And he’s disgusted, because in the wake of the most horrible thing he’s ever faced, he just wants to go back to the Lonely and feel nothing ever again.

It hurts here. Everything hurts, and he doesn’t know how to heal, or how to avoid, or how to protect Jon, or —

“Martin!” Arthur slaps Martin’s face as if Martin is a hysterical starlet.

It’s so… old-timey, so vaguely toxic and absurd, that Martin laughs. “Oh, sure, this might as well happen.” He rubs his eyes. “Did it work?”

Yes. He’s gone.

“Yeah,” says Arthur. “He got him.”

“We… those portals opened into our cottage, right?” says Martin, doing the only thing he can, focusing on right now, because Jon isn’t even back yet, and if he can’t stop the oncoming flood, he might as well do everything he can before he’s swept under. “Did we just fill our magic invisible cottage with god-parts?”

I… no, I don’t think so? says John, horrified to catch himself copying the uptalk. It should dissipate, like mist—though you may have ichor to clean up.

“John says no, but, did….” Arthur swallows. “Did we make more… you? Pieces?”

John hadn’t even thought of that. I… I don’t know. Whether it did or didn’t, though, it’s all gone back to the Dark World.

“John thinks it’s gone,” summarizes Arthur, desperately hoping they didn’t create (and fail) another Yellow.

Arthur sits Martin up. He can feel they’re both a mess; blood is sticky, and feels weird on the skin when it dries. He’s tacky with marble dust and sweat. 

Arthur does not care. It may not be quite the same as outright murdering the one who took John from him, but it was close.

Really close.

He starts laughing.

“Uh?” says Martin. 

“He is happy, Mister Blackwood,” says the King, who sounds… pretty bad.

Martin can’t tell by looking at him how bad he is. He looks the same, to Martin’s human eyes.

For a moment, it all feels really… distant. Vague.

Arthur slaps him again.

Martin flinches. “Ow?”

“You don’t want to get slapped, don’t drift,” says Arthur. “I won’t let you.”

“And that,” says Kayne, hopping down from a broken pillar, “was absolutely every inch worth the price of admission. Fuck that was fun! Unpredictable! Sort of! Glorious! Sort of! Really damn messy? Well, it sure was that! Oh, the sounds you made! I’m gonna be reliving this for years.”

Nobody answers him.

Kayne is the only one here who isn’t wounded, or tired, or struggling with an addictive Fear god. 

The moment feels… unsafe.

“Oh, relax. We’re in intermission now until your boyfriend comes back, anyway,” says Kayne, who is apparently only talking to Martin.

“Why did you do this?” Martin says.

“To see what would happen. Gotta stir the pot sometimes, you know?”

Martin is sickened. “Our lives were at stake.”

“Sure were!”

Even mine, thinks Martin, who’d thought Kayne at least… no, not cared about him, or anything, but at least was moderately possessive.

Kayne laughs.

It’s such a bad sound, cutting, somehow genuinely entertained. “You think I care if you die?”

Martin rubs his face. Everything hurts.

Arthur grips his shoulder. “Don't let him get to you. This was his trump card. He doesn’t have anything else to play right now.”

“Well, that’s not your smartest deduction, Artie,” says Kayne. “Hey, Hastur, baby doll, beloved… how are you feeling?”

It takes a moment before Hastur replies. “I think you should leave.”

“Is that a command? You sure you want to waste the energy on it? He could be back any minute. He could be pursued. Who knows what’s going on over there? Maybe he’s got to fight monsters! Ooh, maybe I did this to weaken you so you wouldn’t be able to push against whatever the little Archivist brings back.”

Hastur sighs slowly. “Mister Blackwood.”

“What?” Martin squeaks, freaked out by thoughts of Jon (who is a stick in a sweater) fighting monsters.

“What you and Arthur just did. That was your plan, wasn’t it?”

Martin glances at Kayne, who indicates nothing; Martin can’t even tell anymore what’s making his eyes sting. “Y… yes. I remembered what you’d said about where you came from, how you were made from the original King in Yellow, and I thought… well, we’ve got the knife, and that’s one portal, and we’ve got… well, me, and I can sort of… do portals, too, and I thought… I… “

“I am impressed,” says Hastur. “Though I hope you will permit me a little smugness. I was right: if the tapes had been here already, they would have been destroyed.”

He waves his tentacles, and something appears in front of him, taking a dark, square shape. 

It’s an enormous chest.

Martin stares. “Tapes?”

“The tapes. I hope they help, in spite of my doubts.”

So now Martin is crying. 

Martin runs his hands over the chest, finds the latch, opens it. It’s filled to the brim with tape recorders.

“Mmm, do I let you do this?” says Kayne, because he is a monstrous fuckwit.

Martin just looks at him. “Do you want Jon back or not?”

“Mm, I do.”

“This will help. Sir.” It costs Martin to say that. After everything that happened, after such casual cruelty, it costs so much to say that.

Kayne smiles like receiving payment. “Mm, fair enough. You may continue.”

Give them what they want, and you get what you want. It’s the same thing, every time.

Martin controls his face and keeps the disgust inside, and that’s a cost, too, but he doesn’t care.

He starts setting up tape recorders.

(part nineteen)

NOTES

Oh, I couldn't wait to write this chapter.

I promised you BAMF moments for everyone. Well, here they are!

Yeah, I knew Jonah would be in this from word one. Surprise!

Kayne is entertaining - but he is also absolutely horrible, and his true nature is showing.

Martin really is a clever little cupcake. And Arthur? I do not CARE if what he did was possible. He deserved that moment of pure badassery, and I hope it as deeply embedded in your brain as it is in mine.

[i-came-back]

Behold, local chill boy 1/3

Also heehee teef, anyways

November 16th 1988

Anatomiser, has retractable chitinous black fangs with saliva contains components of scorpion venom as well as pitch black eyes

Born: October 9th 1971

Age: 17

Current age: 52

Parents: Lynn and Harvey Kerries, only child

Getting to know Gavin Kerries!

1. What is your name? Vinny Kerries. Sup.

2. How old are you? Uh, it’s fifty something… fifty one, coming up on fifty two. Sorry, remembering time in a place where time doesn’t do anything except loop is hard.

3. Where were you born? Man, I barely remember how old I am. Christmases were real fuckin’ frigid though. Jesus, that I do remember.

4. What did your father and mother do for a living? Ma stayed at home. Dad was in construction. If I hadn’t come to Unset, I probably would’ve joined him. Ha…

5. Were you well off? Middle class? Impoverished? Eh. We did alright. Didn’t grow up with nothing fancy, pretty weird being an only child, but uh… I didn’t care. Much.

6. When you were a child, what was one thing you could always be sure of? The mail came on Sundays… that’s it. That’s all I can be sure of.

7. What is your life like at the moment? I’m young forever, my teacher isn’t an ass and I get to do cool shit with my best friends all day in my downtime. What’s my life like at the moment? I’ll tell you this, it fucking rocks. Wouldn’t switch it for nothing, period.

8. Which one of you is your mother’s favorite? You talkin’ bout Cass? For sure it’s gotta be one of the girls. Probably everyone’s gonna say OJ or Charlie, but know what? I think it’s one of the little ones- Maybe Robin or Lainie, hard to hate ‘em.

9. Why? Well, I never had any siblings, but being around them ever is always a blast. They’re these little balls of energy that don’t turn off ever. They’re like glow sticks- you crack em once but they last forever, they’re stuck okie that until they go to sleep- it’s wild

10. What caused the rift between you and your parents?… *sigh* First of all… that is my shit to air out. Who the hell are you to go nosing around like that? Second… I’ll keep it brief. If I hadn’t found this place, if Cass hadn’t found me and I was still with my parents, I really wouldn’t like the person that’d be coming out of that place. He wouldn’t be nearly as likeable as yours truly.