#bob literally almost died and came back to life to finish the show and the Emmy’s said okayyy anddd 😭😭😂

[kimwexlersponytail]

The disrespect that better call saul has received over the years is actually iconic at this point like wow their eternally empty handed slayyy 💅🏽

[twdmusicboxmystery]

11x02: Acheron, Part 2 - Analysis

Okay, let’s talk 11x02. And 11x01. Because it’s a two-part episode, it’s important to consider them together. I have a LOT to say about what’s going on in these two episodes, so I’ll have plenty to post all week. Let’s dive in!

***As always, spoilers abound below for TWD 11x02. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Maggie

The first thing we see is a point of view from under the train car. The instant I saw that, I knew how things would go. I never thought Maggie would die (if nothing else, there are scenes with her in the trailer we haven’t seen yet) but I was curious as to how she would survive. When I saw this POV, I knew she’d end up crawling under the train. Just as Glenn crawled under the dumpster. Massive parallels to Glenn. Which by extension, massive parallels to Beth. Major resurrection theme.

It's also important that when she reappears, she comes from underneath the car. Obviously, that’s logical given that she crawled underneath the car, but they make a point of asking if the pounding is coming from the roof. Gabriel says no and then they open the bottom hatch for her. Her coming up from the ground like that is a visual representation of a resurrection.

So we see Gabriel, Negan and the others enter the train car. The spatial details here are important, and I had to watch the episode twice to get them all straight. It’s a little confusing the first time. So, the group jumps down into the train car through a hatch in the roof because they couldn’t get the door open in the last episode. The thing is, if you watch closely, you come to realize they’re not in the train car on the end. They must have walked along the roof for two or three cars before finding a hatch that let them in.

So, when Gauge shows up, he comes behind them, and that confused me because I was thinking they came from that direction. And they did, but they entered through the roof, not the door. Anyway, they can’t get the door open. So honestly, even if they’d tried harder, I’m not sure they could have saved him.

This scene accomplished a lot of things, character-wise, that we need to touch on. It’s important to note that Gauge’s death happened due to his own choices. Does that mean he “deserved” to die or that they shouldn’t have tried to save him if they could have? Of course not. No on both counts. But that doesn’t change the fact that his choices sealed his fate.

It's especially interesting that he called Maggie a Liar. Not only is that a throwback to the Governor, but it’s a particular type of mentality they’re showing here. Even the fact that he didn’t shut the door behind him is really interesting. My first thought was to be annoyed with him. Why WOULDN’T you shut the door. You live in this world. You know better. But it’s all ego. He can’t imagine something bad will happen. He just assumes if it does, someone will save him.

But the most telling thing was how angry he got before saying Liar. It just shows very much how he approaches life. When he messes up, he doesn’t feel bad, and accept that it was his fault, and try to learn from it. No, instead he gets pissed and blames everyone but himself and his own actions.

If this had been Daryl or Gabriel or Alden or any of our other heroes, they would have recognized that opening the door would have gotten their friends and family killed and would have sacrificed themselves. Especially if they realized they’d screwed up. But Gauge became angry and defiant, even killing himself.

Anyway, I’m rambling. This really has nothing to do with Beth or TD other than perhaps being a future template for something. But I thought it was a really fascinating character sketch.

The thing is, this isn’t really a matter of Gauge being wrong and everyone else being right.

Maggie is…not doing so well either. As I told my fellow theorists, Paola Lazaro said in TTD last week that Maggie was kind of off the rails. I think she said that a little prematurely, because we really didn’t understand Maggie’s state of mind just by watching 10x17 and 11x01.

It's not until she tells that messed up story about the house she found and the people in it that we understand that her state of mind really isn’t at its healthiest. Even saying she wanted to kill Negan before is…understandable given their past. But it makes more sense now why Negan is so nervous. He’s sensing her state of mind that her moral conscience isn’t as strong as it once was, so of course he’s fearful for his life.

I don’t know where they’re going with this Maggie story line, but I have a feeling this attitude of hers will cause conflict down the road. Several of my fellow theorists believe it will cause a rift between her and Daryl. And we can see that somewhat through Alden. At first, he was very much defending Maggie, especially against Negan. He has a lot of loyalty to her. But he didn’t like her abandoning Gauge, and you can see his loyalties starting to waver.

At the very least, what she said about not feeling anything about it is the opposite of what Beth always stood for. Daryl was trying hard not to feel things during Still, in the wake of the prison going down. She made him feel things because that’s the only way a person is truly living, rather than just surviving. Now Maggie is in that state of mind.

And I’m gonna argue that makes it a prime time for Beth to return to help her. But of course I’m completely objective over here. ;D

Maggie’s Story:

Maggie’s story was definitely dark and horrible, but interesting to analyze. I’m assuming there was cannibalism going on there. That’s why the missing limbs. The men in the house were eating the female prisoners. No only a callback to Terminus, but remember that Bob’s leg was taken for food, so I’m sure that’s what we’re supposed to infer here.

She talked about no eyes, no tongue, no limbs, vocal cords ripped out. So definitely the see no evil, speak no evil themes. With the limbs, it’s also a matter of not being able to escape or save themselves.

In terms of the plot, I do have one question about this that I think may be significant. Maggie first talks about three deformed people (she says, “I wouldn’t call them men”) coming toward her. She kills them, and only after that hears the noise from the attic.

My question is, why were they deformed? If they’re “men,” then they must be at least Maggie’s age, if not older, which means they’ve been around since before the apocalypse began. Even eating human flesh doesn’t cause one to become deformed, so why the deformities? I have no idea, but I wondered if there is a radiation theme going on here. Something they’re hinting at, but not saying. Just thought that was intriguing.

After that, things go sideways and everyone almost dies until Daryl arrives to save the day. So, let’s skip to his story.

Daryl:

We first see him bust through a wall with Dog. So, dog took off in the last episode, but the first time we see Daryl, he’s already found Dog again. At least, the first time. This is where he sees the murals on the wall, the walker with the handcuff and the suitcase of money, etc. I already talked about most of that in great detail HERE, so I won’t rehash it, though it’s very important.

One thing I will say about the mural is that thematically, it’s a match to Still. So, in the golf club, we had lots of rich people who clearly hid there when the world first went bad. And I don’t remember this particularly, but several of my fellow theorists have told me they remember the TTD after Still and that the writers talked about how the golf club was a statement about the class system. You have these very rich people, but their wealth couldn’t save them. Death, walkers, the apocalypse…none of these things discriminate based on wealth or position.

On the wall, we see people with crowns standing at the top, but below, they are homeless, and one of them is being attacked and torn apart. Meanwhile, Daryl sees a line of text that says, “it comes for us all,” probably meaning death.

Well, guess what? Angela Kang, in talking about the murals, said that this, too, was a statement about the class system. So thematically, this is meant to be a parallel to Still.

It’s just interesting to contemplate because if you think about it, most of our heros—Rick, Daryl, the Greene family, etc—weren’t at all wealthy. Rick was humble and well-grounded. Hershel worked hard his whole life and never had any glory or fanfare. And then there’s Daryl, who was “nothing. No one.” They all survived.

So of course it’s a socioeconomic statement, but it’s also one about mindset. It takes not only grit to survive this world, but a certain amount of humility. Ego always gets you killed eventually, as it did with Gauge.

I’ll also mention that I thought the guy with the crown who was being torn apart was being set upon by walkers, but AK says they’re specifically not walkers. They’re people.

So, it’s not a coincidence that we see this juxtaposed with the Gauge situation. His ego gets him killed and we literally see him being torn apart because of it.

Moving on.

Daryl finds a bag with a $100 bill with a letter written on it. This is a massive TD clue from start to finish. 100 is an important number. The hundred dollar bill features Benjamin Franklin on the front and Independence Hall on the back. Look either of those up and you’ll find lots of fun parallels we could point to. I won’t go into all that today except to say it’s definitely part of the Revolution theme.

This is what’s written on the bill Daryl finds:

“Dear Dad, you always said if you don’t come back in a week to move on. Mom didn’t listen and went looking. It’s been three weeks, so we’re going next. I’ll watch Jesse and turn on the radio every day at 10. See you both soon. Love Tom and Jesse.”

He also finds a picture of two kids. So, the “three weeks” jumps out because of Rick’s line in 5x10, “it’s been three weeks since Atlanta.” It’s also about missing family members, going searching for them, etc. Possibly important that the mom is also missing. I can’t help but think of the song from Still. “Our mother has been absent, every since we founded Rome…”

There is a 10 in there, which is an important number. The turning the radio on every day is both the radio/airwaves theme (also a line from the song) but a callback to Rick and Morgan and their walkie talkies. So, really interesting symbols here.

The two kids immediately reminded me of Noah’s twin brothers. I don’t think these two are supposed to be twins. I’m assuming the brother is older. But still obviously siblings. And it hearkens back to the last episode Beth was technically in. Which also had a lot of the CRM/Revolution theme in it. (X, X).

AK says this family probably didn’t make it, so I’m not expecting these kids to show up in the narrative. But it’s also important to note that the little girl is carrying the toy rabbit Maggie found earlier. So the rabbit also ties into all this symbolism. (P.S. I didn’t get to my rabbit post last week. I planned on it, but time got away from me. I should get it posted later this week.)

So, this is massive in terms of TD symbolism. I’ll talk about it fits into the bigger narrative in a minute.

Then Daryl kills the sleeping bag walker. I wasn’t sure the significance of this at first, but I think it ties to the tents and sleeping bags we saw in Atlanta in 5x06, Consumed. Daryl and Carol passed them while looking for Beth. So, this just shows us that this is tied to her storyline and Daryl searching for her.

You could also argue that the walker was “hidden” at first, and it’s significant that Dog found it/realized it was there before Daryl did. 

The other thing is that as he’s looking at the sleeping bag walker, there’s a random shoe on the ground next to it. Missing Shoe/Foot theory, which is also indicative of Beth. 

They hear another roaring sound and Dog takes off, running into the dark tunnel.

Here’s the thing. I think most people will assume the roar he heard was just more air being forced through the tunnels by the storm, as Alden explained it in ep 1. But I always watch with the subtitles on and I noticed at this part, the subtitles said, “Man Roaring.” So they actually did hear someone screaming. And that’s probably why Dog ran toward it.

After watching it again, I realized it’s probably supposed to be Roy. He’s the white-haired guy, played by C. Thomas Howell, who Daryl finds wounded after he emerges from the Tunnel. I think whatever happened to him when he went topside but then got attacked by walkers is what Dog heard and went running toward.

Maybe not terribly significant in the plot, but it’s important symbolically. Because once again we have something Daryl hears from a distance but doesn’t see. Dog (a proxy for Beth) runs toward it, and Daryl follows. When he does, he find someone who had previously separated from the group. They’re hurt, but alive. See the parallels?

I will say the Roy situation confuses me just a little. He’s clearly hurt, and when Daryl tries to bandage him, he refuses, saying, “just tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.” But then later he’s with the group, all bandaged up, and seems to be okay. (He dies when they reach the Reapers by taking an arrow to the head, so he still dies overall.) But it’s just weird that it seemed he would die, then seemed he was fine again.

It may well be something that foreshadows a future situation, and that’s why it’s not making tons of sense right now. Only time will tell.

Anyway, I kind of glossed over Daryl crawling through the dark tunnel. I don’t have much else to say about it except that it’s a SUPER potent symbol for Beth’s arc and very important that he emerges on the other side and finds this person. Annnd then goes to save TF. (Dark Tunnel Symbolism).

So, he hears the gunshots and finds the train they’re on. He comes up behind the walkers attacking them from the front, kills them, moves the bench blocking the door, and lets everyone through. Then he uses a grenade to blow up all the walkers. (Ew.)

After that they all get out of the tunnels and go topside. The next scene is also super important. We see the stars above. That’s partly to show that the storm has passed now, but also constellations = Sirius.

Maggie asks what he has and he tells her about it. There is one weird moment in this scene. When she tells them about the supply depot she wants to stop at, she says Georgie (from S8) set it up for emergencies, for people on the outside to use. When it says this, the camera focuses on Daryl for a LONG moment, and he looks almost sad. I’m not sure what they’re trying to tell us there.

Anyway, they all head out. Unfortunately, when they reach the right neighborhood, the Reapers are there to meet/kill them. And Roy is the first to go.

So, a couple of things here. I’ll probably do a details post because I’m leaving out MOST of the background details throughout the episode, and there are a lot of them. Lots of details to be gleaned in this scene.

But the second time I watched it, I was struck by the people hanging upside down. Obviously a grim sight, but it occurred to me that these people hanging this way look a LOT like the deer diagrams from Scars. Let me show you some pictures:

Top pick is 11x02. Middle and bottom one are from Scars.

See what I mean? So, chances are something about Scars foreshadowed the Reapers, which is interesting. They clearly see human beings in a certain way (as animals to be strung up and…perhaps eaten?) And that makes me think that what Maggie found in that house may tie into the Reapers as well. Just kind of interesting foreshadows of coming plots.

Eugene:

Let’s talk Eugene and then I’ll shut up for today. Eugene’s stuff was very intriguing. First thing you need to know. And understand, I didn’t know this. @wdway​ pointed it out. Some months ago, the actress cast as “Stephanie” was announced. This is her:

And that’s clearly not the woman who steps into the train car at the end. Which means this isn’t really Stephanie. She’s a decoy. In fact, the actress from this episode is billed on IMDb as “woman 2,” not as “Stephanie.”

Knowing that, if you go back and re-watch the parts with Eugene’s group, they mean something very different.

On the surface, it seems that Zeke, Yumiko and Princess are taken away in a sinister fashion. Then Eugene melts down and tells his story. (Note: while he focuses on his feelings for Stephanie and I think most of that is true, he still says he lied both to her and to his friends about being from a large settlement. So, he’s still keeping large chunks of the truth from them.)

Again, on the surface it seems that they accept his explanation and just decide to allow them all in. All the stuff with the other three is just a misunderstanding.

But if “Stephanie” is a decoy, that can’t possibly be the case. I think Zeke and the others told Eugene the truth as they know it, but they’re all still being manipulated.

After Princess left to pee, the guy told Eugene no one was in the room and acted like he had no idea who Princess was. They were definitely using psychological torture on him, trying to break him.

I think they know very well that Eugene's group is still lying about their settlement, and they're using a decoy "Stephanie" to find out the truth.

My point is that it goes back to the hallucination, making-someone-think-they're-crazy theme. It will be really interesting to see how this unfolds, because there's all kinds of psychological shenanigans going on here.

@galadrieljones​ made a really interesting connection some time ago. She noticed that back in 10x18, at Leah’s cabin, there is a metal, heart-shaped chair. The same chairs show up in the Commonwealth’s sales video from the trailer. So there’s some kind of link between Leah, Daryl’s memory of her, and the Commonwealth. We don’t know what it is yet, but all of this gives credence to the idea that she is either an outright hallucination, or Daryl is just remembering things wrong.

It also might mean that the Reapers are connected to the Commonwealth in some way. We don’t really know yet, but I’m having tons of fun trying to figure it out.

I want to touch briefly on the train car theme. Once again, there’s a parallel in both story lines (Terminus, and this one at the Commonwealth). Daryl’s group is in train cars this episode. And while Eugene’s group has been at a different compound, they started in the train yard and end in it here. But what I noticed is that Eugene enters the train car at the end, which is furnished inside, and finds his friends there. They all have a happy reunion.

It made me think of the fact that when Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Carl enter the train cars at Terminus, there is also a family reunion. What happened beyond that was not good or easy. Clearly, Terminus was not a good place. Many of them almost died at the trough and they had to fight their way out through a walker blood bath.

I’m just saying that, while it obviously won’t play out exactly the same way, something similar is probably waiting for Eugene’s group outside that train car. Not good.

Acheron Overall:

Okay, let’s get to the big cheese, here. The overall narrative. The template.

These two episodes are called Acheron part 1 and part 2. So here’s the skinny:

Acheron = Underworld. Daryl’s group going into the subway tunnels (dark, underground) is what constitutes Acheron and why the episodes are called that. That’s why, at the end of this episode, they emerge from the tunnels onto the surface (i.e. the living world).

Given all the death, cemetery, and dark tunnel symbolism around Beth, given that she ventured into the land of the dead by being shot, maybe clinically dying for a time, and being thought dead for so long, what this tells me is that everything that happens in these tunnels is a foreshadow and template for what will happen this season.

I maintain that Dog = Beth and we will soon see something where Daryl hears something (not necessarily her; it was a man screaming so I still think it will be Rick he hears word of) and goes chasing after it. While searching for it, he stumbles across Beth. Then the two of them (both Dog and Daryl returned to the train car) go back in time to save TF from something.

This is most likely why the Roy thing is weird. In a super understated way, he represents Rick in the template. Daryl will find him, but only after he finds Beth. Even consider what Roy says. He says, “tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.” And that’s all well and good, but did we even know Roy had kids? No. Have we met them? No. But who has kids that Daryl IS concerned with? That would be Rick.

So I’m thinking that maybe when Daryl finds Rick, Rick will think he’s dying for some reason, and that’s why the dialogue here. But he won’t, which is why we see Roy with the group later.

And no, I’m not thinking that Roy dying via the Reapers will extend to Rick. It’s more like what they’ve done with countless characters that have been Beth proxies. Eventually, they kill them off. He’s a minor character they were using as a proxy, and when they are done with him in the narrative, he becomes walker chow. Or, in this case, Reaper fodder.

Anyway, I think everything will end up being a foreshadow for something. Maggie and Negan. The Gauge situation. All of it. I’ll try to keep coming back to this as the story progresses to show what everything foreshadows. I’ll stop there for today.

[wc-ff]

X.

There wasn't much to be done in a situation like this. What could you do?

Sage was almost sure she'd have to plead for her job back after having two detectives come in to take her to the station and interrogate her, leaving them with one less staff member for the day. They were already short and had called her in on her day off. She could always use the extra money so she agreed to work.

She knew they would come asking for her eventually but she didn't expect for it to be this soon and it showed in her demeanor. She couldn't stop moving around and fidgeting with her fingers as she sat all alone in the dull colored room. The room was cool but she still felt hot as she waited for them to come back in. Sage was also beginning to taste blood from the excessive amount of gnawing she was doing to the insides of her cheeks.

Her eyes couldn't do anything but dart around the room as she sat there. They had nothing else to focus on. She looked like a train wreck but was trying her best to seem as cool as a cucumber.

The detectives abruptly entered the room with stone cold glares on their faces. They weren't exactly looking at Sage though, and it made her a little nervous because she couldn't keep her eyes off of them.

Agents Morris and Steele sat down almost simultaneously, Morris releasing a slow sigh as Steele sat the case file on the table and opened it up. She sat a few pictures of the twins' dead disfigured bodies out in front of the platinum haired woman and Sage instantly winced. Her eyes quickly averted back up to the detectives. She could have kept the close up of the girls out of her imagination forever but now it was permanently etched there.

Still, no one said anything. She didn't know what they wanted her to say to those photos.

Sandra was getting tired of looking at this spec of dirt who she already felt most likely did the crime. She was just ready to put this woman behind bars so the case would be over with. At that point, there were no other leading suspects. "Do you know these two young ladies?" Her voice came out firm and slightly echoed throughout the plain room.

The only color on the walls was a dull gray that contrasted with the darkness of the double-sided windows the detectives were using to watch Sage before they entered themselves. The table and chairs they were sitting on were also metal and cold to the touch. The interrogation room was cool in general and wasn't quite designed to make people feel comfortable.

"No, I don't." Sage answered without so much as a second glance towards the disturbing pictures that were still laid out in front of her.

"That's Kaniya Holt," Sandra spoke as she pointed at one of the disfigured bodies, "and this right here is Malaysia Holt. Mayor Holt's twin daughters and only children. Well they were at least." She added, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Sage with her lips cut into a scowl.

Ronald felt like it was then his turn to speak up. He knew how worked up his partner could get and if this was a good cop bad cop scenario, she would most definitely be the bad cop. "And your phone?" He pulled the evidence bag containing her phone seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on the table. "Was found at the scene of the crime."

"And I saw you running away from the crime scene the next day when we were gathering evidence. Perhaps coming back for a certain cellphone you dropped while you were running away after you finished murdering those two girls." Agent Steele added, her voice stern like a mother scolding her child.

"What—no! I can explain that."

Sage barely even got to plea before Sandra cut in again. "Well you're gonna have to because surveillance cameras showed you running away from the crime scene around the estimated time of death. And after doing a little research... you have a motive better than anyone to hurt Malaysia and Kaniya."

The platinum haired woman's eyebrows instantly furrowed together. "What are you talking about motive? I just said that I don't know them." Her tone came out a bit more harsh now as she got defensive. She hated having to reiterate herself, it didn't matter who it was to.

Sandra only smirked and flipped through a few pages that rested in the manila folder sitting in front of her before laying out an article about Shamar's car accident from a couple of years ago. The headline read: Man Left in Critical Condition After Brutal Collision on Intersection.

Sage's face turned up in disgust and she pushed the article away, no longer wanting to read it. The way the title alone sounded as if there was no empathy involved when coming up with it was enough to turn her off completely. "What does this have to do with them?"

"Kaniya Holt was behind the wheel of the vehicle that hit your father and her sister was in the passenger seat. They both came out seemingly unscathed." Steele responded as if the woman was slow for even asking her the question. She knew exactly what the detective was talking about, Sandra was sure of it.

Sage stared at her for a while, unable to form any words to reply with as her eyes unwillingly swelled up with fresh salty tears. They were the reason that her father could never hug his family again? Why wouldn't anyone have told her that? "N-no, you're lying. I would have heard about it, the news would have reported about it."

"C'mon now. They're the mayors daughters and Kaniya didn't even have her driver's permit so the drivers of the other vehicle were kept under wraps and you're angry about that... aren't you?" Agent Morris' Italian accent was in full effect as questioned her, studying her behavior.

"Of course I am. My dad almost died! That girl should have been in jail, not protected. And y'all knew about this and just did nothing about it? You say your duty is to protect and serve but only when it's convenient, huh?" In all honesty with the news she had just received, Sage had completely forgotten what she was being interrogated about and was just livid as hell now. They did nothing to help her family when it was their job to do so. It made her realize how corrupt the world really was and how close to home it could hit.

"You're angry we didn't do something about it so you took it upon yourself to get justice for your dad. It's only human to feel that way and all but you have to own up to what you did now and sign a confession. These girl's families deserved justice too." Ronald continued, trying his best to sound as soothing as possible so he wouldn't upset her anymore than he knew she already was.

Sage immediately sucked her teeth. "For the last time, I don't know those fucking girls and fuck their families!" She stood up from her seat as the detectives just sat back and watched her point a harsh finger at them. "Neither them or you gave a fuck about my family when it came down to it. But that doesn't mean that I killed those girls."

"So who did then?"

The light caramel toned woman's words got caught in her throat as she tried to think of a response. She gulped hard as she sat down and began trying to explain everything that had happened that night. The date, why she was walking through that area in the first place, and what she saw and heard coming from that abandoned house that night. She hated reliving that moment but knew she had to for the sake of her freedom.

Sandra and Ronald looked at each other before looking back over at their suspect. "So you mean to tell me a 'black figure' beat them to death?" Agent Steele looked Sage dead in the eyes as if she was completely bored by the story she had just told her. It was unconvincing to say the least. She had the strongest motive and was literally in the area at the time of death. Sandra knew for certain that they had their man, they just needed to get this damn confession out of her and she was making it hard.

"I don't know how else to describe it. The person was dressed in black from head to toe, I couldn't see any skin."

"How convenient." Sandra gave her a sarcastic toothless grin, not moved by her story in the slightest.

Suddenly the door busted open and in walked Sage's mother followed by her attorney. "Sage, you don't have to say anything else."

It was sort of already too late. She had already said everything that she needed to say, she just didn't know where to go from there. The detectives didn't seem like they believed her at all.

Steele immediately rolled her eyes and closed up the case file, already knowing exactly where this was going and it annoyed her. She wasn't finished with the suspect, she knew she could break her down if she just had a bit more time with her. Everything lined up and pointed to her as the murderer but it was all circumstantial evidence. Neither her prints nor DNA were found in the actual house or on the persons of the deceased so they needed that confession from her to be able to make the arrest. Sandra was itching to slap some cuffs on her and finally close the case.

"If it's ok with you all, I'd like to take my daughter home now. You interrupted her life enough today." Sanai spoke in the voice she used when she was trying to sound as professional as possible.

Sandra scowled at the both of them but said nothing as she and Ronald watched them walk out of the door.

*******

Ronald sat in his office, typing away on his keyboard. His partner assumed he was doing the work to find more evidence on their case like she was, but instead he was chatting with a woman he had met on a dating app a few days ago.

She was average looking to him but she was of actual Italian descent and had a body that most women her age didn't have anymore so he felt like they could make something work. Thus far, she had been cool and funny. She had jet black hair that she had cut in a blunt bob that reached her shoulders, pale skin that had a few beauty marks scattered here and there, and thick fluffy eyebrows that arched perfectly over her dark brown eyes. She was a seven at the very least and since she exercised frequently, her body was nice and fit.

Ronald could only imagine how much stamina she'd have in bed. She seemed like she was down to find out too. They had planned to meet up that weekend at a bar for the first time and have a few drinks. He was ready to put that entire Chantell situation behind him now.

She had been texting him nonstop since the night before and apologizing about making him feel like she was playing with him but he could honestly care less. He said what he had to say already and wasn't going to spend anymore energy on it. He was too old to be playing games or going back and forth with anyone so he wasn't going to.

He already had his next few options lined up and while Chantell was one of the best looking ones, she wasn't the only one and that was something he felt he needed to make clear to her.

A light knock sounded off on his door which instantly caused his eyebrows to come together in confusion. Usually, Sandra would just barge right in without so much as a warning first so he was sure that it had to be someone else. "Come in." He called out, his eyes trained on the wooden office door.

As if he had thought her up himself, Chantell sashayed through the door and closed it shut behind her. Her bronzed skin was radiating and the lip gloss that coated her lips made them look extra kissable. An all black strapless sundress hugged her curves perfectly and she wore a pair of black furry Ugg slides on her feet to match, showcasing her freshly polished toes. Her hair was slicked back into a low curly puff with two stray curls hanging at her sideburns and framing her gorgeous face that was dressed in light makeup. Her natural beauty never failed to amaze Ronald. She looked good without even trying.

Still, he couldn't let her off the hook that quick. He wasn't about to allow her to hypnotize him. "What are you doin' in my office? I'm at work and my partner works right next door so if you think you're about to come bring drama into my workplace 'cause I ain't been answering you then you got another thing comin'." He seemed to say all in one breath while Chantell just inched closer to him.

She inwardly rolled her eyes about his nagging before he even knew what she was actually there for. She rounded the corner of his desk and approached him seductively causing him to roll back in his chair a bit, unsure of what her next move would be since the last thing he did was smack her food out of her hands and left her standing on her front porch.

Chantell reached out and lightly caressed his face, slowly making her way down to her knees. Within seconds, the detective's belt buckle was undone and his pants were unzipped. Ronald kept his arms at his sides but kept his eyes on her as she kept eye contact with him with each new movement she made.

Her soft plump lips wrapped themselves around the tip of his member, immediately causing it to begin to harden in her small hands. The middle aged man's eyes rolled to the back of his head as her tongue traced circles along the skin of his dick which had now grown stiff. She kept her eyes trained on him, knowing how it made men crazy when they looked in her eyes while her mouth was full of their manhood.

She was glad he wasn't an unattractive older guy because it would have made everything ten times harder. She knew she needed to get back into his good graces, especially after speaking about the surveillance video he was going to show her the night before. He couldn't leave her hanging like that.

One of Ronald's hands rested on the back of her head as she began bobbing it up and down, an audible grunt escaping his mouth which made her smirk to herself. She wasn't even giving her best effort and she still had him right where she wanted him.

Her spit slowly oozed down his shaft while she picked up her pace, deep throating the entirety of his length with no hands as loud gargling sounds filled his office. She continued to orally pleasure him, allowing herself to get sloppy and nasty with it until he released in her mouth, a long barely audible groan coming from his own since he was sure Sandra was still closed up in her office beside his.

Chantell gathered all of his nut and the tip of her tongue and traced small circles on his tip with it before sucking it back off and swallowing it whole, a smirk forming on her face as Ronald widened his eyes at her. She stuck her tongue out to show him that she hadn't missed a single drop of it.

He had never had a woman swallow his kids like that with no problem before. He couldn't do anything but watch her astonished. His ex-wife, Marjory, could and would never. She always said his semen was too salty to keep in her mouth and would spit it back onto him. He should have known she'd think that though because she barely seasoned her food.

"I'm sorry for what I said." She mumbled as she planted a light kiss on his skin of his shaft, batting her long mink eyelashes as she looked up at him. "Forgive me?"

Ronald couldn't even form any words so he just nodded his head instead which instantly made Chantell smile at him before standing to her feet. "Call me when you get off. Don't wanna get you into any issues with your partner." She added, along with a seductive wink before making her way back out of his office with a grin, twisting her ass with each step she took.

She had him right back where she wanted him.

*******

Loud and hurried knocks sounded off on Sergio's front door as if it were the police ready to break it down at any second. He smacked his lips and instinctively pulled his strap out from underneath his mattress before heading over to find out who the hell was banging on his door like that.

He looked through the peephole and immediately furrowed his eyebrows when he saw his sister's face staring back at him. They hadn't had any type of contact with each other since the day he went over there and Sanai slapped him. Sage hadn't texted him either so he wasn't sure what she was here for but he unlocked the door and swung it open anyway.

Sage instantly barged in, pushing Sergio with all her strength and causing him to stumble back a few feet, twisting his face up as he glared at her like she had lost her mind. He wasn't sure what she was mad about now but he didn't have the time or patience for her shenanigans at the moment. "Fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you!" She pushed him again and this time he forcefully grabbed her wrists, snatching them away from him. "You're the one that told me to watch the news so you knew who those girls were!"

Once he realized what she was rambling on about, his faced straightened out into a more bored expression. He was just telling her to let her know, he didn't think it would be a problem. "And?"

"And when you and daddy got into that accident, they were the ones driving the car that hit you. You didn't think that was something I should know?" Her face was a reddish tint and her blood was boiling at this point. Her family kept so many big things from her all the time when all she did was help them and she was beginning to get really tired of it.

Sergio slightly rolled his eyes at her dramatics. She was always overreacting to things that weren't that big of a deal and then blew up the same way she was doing now. "Why would you need to know that? You wasn't in the car. You wasn't even in the state. You wasn't around when it happened so it's irrelevant." He shrugged.

Sage only glared at him for a split second before she swung but her little brother's reflexes were a bit quicker than hers and he swiftly dodged out of the way in time before grabbing both of her arms and spinning her so that her back was to him as he pinned her hands by her sides. "Aye, stop fuckin' hitting me!"

"They think I killed them because dad got hurt and they didn't get in trouble for the accident. You should have fucking told me that when you found out it was them!" Tears were coming to her eyes because she was so pissed she couldn't take her anger out on him. He was stronger than her and had an advantage.

"I don't like talking about that shit Sage, you know that." Sergio retorted right before his sister abruptly stomped on his foot causing him to involuntarily let go of her as he howled in pain. He was barefoot and only wearing slides so he felt all of the creases from the bottom of her shoe sink into his toes.

Sage quickly tried to gain an advantage over him with the time she had bought herself but was again pinned down ten seconds later. Now they were both angry and their tempers were no match for each other. "You wouldn't understand Sage."

"No, I don't understand because you don't tell me shit and I barely see you because you moved out and never come around except when you feel like it. Mom was right, you're selfish!"

Sergio smacked his teeth. "Man, fuck you and fuck mom. Both of y'all bitches can go choke on a dick. Y'all not the ones that gotta walk around everyday feeling like it's your fault your family's fucked up now. We used to be close and now we always fighting and I'm the one that gotta carry that burden, not y'all."

"Gio, what the fuck are you even talking about? How could it be your fault when dad was protecting you from those girl's reckless driving? And they said they found you only with a few cuts and a broken arm in the passenger seat which was a miracle considering they hit that side."

Sage couldn't even see her brother's face because her back was turned to him but if she could, she'd know that he was silently shedding a few tears. He hated to be reminded of that night but it seemed like no matter what he did, even years later it would never stop. "They weren't the ones in the wrong that night, Sage. Kaniya just didn't have her permit but her light was green."

"So their light was green. That still doesn't make everything your fault, you weren't even driving—"

"I was driving, Sage!" He snapped causing the entire house to fall into an eerie silence. Sage began to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, realizing why her brother barely liked to come around or why he rarely saw his father in the hospital unless Shamar was asleep.

He felt guilty for being the reason their dad was the way he was and he beat himself up everyday for ruining his family with just one dumb mistake he wished he could take back. Everything was starting to make sense to her. The drugs, the isolation, the constant state of anger Sergio always seemed to be in. She couldn't even say it wasn't his fault because it was. He had only just turned fifteen when it happened so she was sure he didn't have his license and he still ran a red light.

"So why'd they say they found you in the passenger seat?"

Sergio released her arms and walked away from her, running his hands over his face as he began pacing the ground. He had lived with his secret for two years and hadn't told a soul. He wanted to keep it that way because he didn't want her to look at him any differently but something in him had to let her know. "They did find me there... I knew I would never be able to get my license if I was the one responsible for the accident so I switched me and dad around before the cops could show up and when they did, I acted like I had passed out from the impact so they wouldn't suspect anything. And dad never told them nothing either."

"So you moved daddy to the driver's seat? What if he was..." She trailed off, not even wanting to think of the possibility of her father passing away. Him getting hurt was enough heartbreak for her. "You really would have just let him take the fall like that?"

Sergio didn't look at her nor did he answer verbally but that told her everything she needed to know. She shook her head as she looked at her brother, barely being able to recognize the chirpy teenager she had left in charge of helping out their parents when she first went off to college.

With tears clouding her vision, she slowly began backing out of her brother's house before turning on her heel and running out the door.

[octothorpetopus]

Afterglow

Richie refuses to cancel his shows. Partially because he does still need to get paid, but mostly because if he changes his life, if he lets the depression take him and pull him into the abyss... that means it's real. That means that Eddie's really gone and he's really not coming back.

He also refuses to cancel his TV appearances, which includes hosting the most popular late-night sketch comedy show in American history, and the one he got his start on as a cast member. Before he went to Derry, he had been excited for it. Before he went to Derry, he had been excited for a lot of things. Now, he couldn't even remember the sensation of excitement. He couldn't remember running ahead of the crowd to get to what he wanted. Now, there was only getting through it, and if he could do that, he'd survive.

The days seem to float by leading up to that Saturday night. He has meetings and rehearsals and publicity stunts and none of it matters. Not one bit. None of the other Losers call, but he didn't think they would. They're giving him space, and besides, they've all got their own things to figure out.

Saturday night comes, and Richie isn't nervous. He finds that since defeating It, nothing else can make him nervous. He stands backstage at the studio, hearing the familiar theme play and the cacophonous cheers of the audience. He's a little excited now. Not enough, but a little. He takes one last look in his dressing room mirror. His expression is tired, but when he plasters on a smile, he almost looks just like he used to. He has gotten a haircut, and he looks older. Less like a kid. He feels less like a kid. But that's not his job. His job is to make other people feel like kids.

"...along with your host, Richie Tozier!" The voiceover finishes just as Richie shakes himself from his stupor and pushes open the door of his dressing room, almost sprinting past producers and studio execs, taking a moment to compose himself before he walks onstage. There is a deafening roar and a flash of blinding light as he walks out, and it takes everything in him not to raise a hand to shield his eyes. He raises it to wave instead, flaunting a brilliant grin beneath his new glasses. He stops in the box on the middle of the stage and waits, breathing shakily, for the noise to stop. Eventually it does, and he smiles again.

"Hello, everyone. I'm so happy to be back here, and this time I'm hosting!" He whoops, letting the lights wash over him, wiping the slate clean. "No, really, it is great to be back. You know, since I left the show, I've gotten a lot of attention, which is great, and almost all of it's good, so..." He pumps his fist, timing it just right. He was not always so good at timing. "But even though I worked here for a long-ass time both in the cast and as a writer, people still tell me I'm just, like... not funny? Like, they'll come up to me after a show and just say, 'Hey, I didn't laugh at any of that. Can I still get a picture, though?' And a lot of my friends tell me that, too. I've got this one friend, and he..." Richie trails off, his eyes traveling up past the crowd and into the lights. They look just like the Deadlights, he notices. How did he not notice that earlier? In his near-excitement, he forgot all about his brief time in the Deadlights, and... and Eddie. He had been just about to mention Eddie. He snaps his eyes back out of the lights, blinking blurry purple circles away. He has to get back to the show. He can't break. He can't.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about my friend. He, um, literally never laughed at one of my jokes. We knew each other since we were eleven, and he didn't laugh at a single one." Richie has a memory of an eleven-year-old Eddie with a popsicle melting in his hand, offering one to Richie. "All my friends got kinda sick of my jokes back then. I wasn't nearly as funny then as I am now." He laughs self-indulgently, and then he is back in the lights, slipping away. He sees Eddie at eleven, at thirteen, at sixteen, at eighteen, at forty. He sees Eddie a hundred times, flashing before his eyes. He can't feel his mouth move, but it does, and he doesn't realize what he's done until he hears himself say, "And I loved him for it." That is all it takes to bring him back. He stumbles back, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone watching close in around him. He does not know what to do. He does not know what to say. And then, all at once, he does. And he says it.

"There's something I've needed to say for a very, very long time." Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. Richie straightens, closes his eyes, and takes a long, slow breath. When he speaks again, his voice is steady and even, and not quite his own. "And this wasn't planned, but I think this is maybe the best place to do it." His eyes open, and they are glowing gunmetal silver under the lights. "I'm gay." He is unsmiling, a word almost never used to describe him before Derry. The audience is utterly silent. They could be replaced by mannequins for all Richie knows. And then, there comes a burst of nervous laughter from somewhere to his left, someone who thinks maybe this is just a very odd set-up to a joke. But it wasn't. "I'm gay, and my best friend in the whole world, the one who never laughed at my jokes... he died. Last week. I was in love with him, and I never told him. That I loved him, or that I was even gay. And... when I say love, I don't mean I had a crush on him when we were kids and something got rekindled when we were adults. I mean I loved him. Really, truly loved him, in the way most people never even get, when we grew up together, now, and almost thirty years in between." Whispers begin to rise now, floating to Richie's ears, but he shuts them out. He is going now, snowballing, getting bigger and bigger and bigger. "I think that's why I'm telling you all now. Because he never got to hear it, and now, I owe it to him to tell someone. I loved him despite the fact that he never laughed at my jokes. I loved him because he never laughed at my jokes. I will always regret never saying anything." He looks down at the people in front of him now. Some are grumbling. Some are stunned. One or two, he notes, are even crying. He reaches up to adjust his glasses and realizes that he is too.

"I'm sorry, everyone," he says. "You didn't come here tonight to see a forty-year-old man cry over his first love. And you won't have to for much longer. I want to leave you with one piece of advice, something a very wise friend said to me. Be who you want to be. Be proud." He smiles, though he feels more like crying than ever, and walks off the stage the way he came to a totally stunned silence. He passes the same producers, the same studio execs, and ignores their cries of protest. He has said his piece. And perhaps his career as a comedian is over in this one blip. Would that really be the end of the world?

He exits out the back doors of the studio and ducks his head, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He passes a long line of people waiting to meet him, praying that they don't see him, and by some miracle, they don't. He thinks about hailing a cab, and then doesn't. It's a cool night, and he wants to walk.

This is Eddie's city, he realizes. No wonder he's been having visions and dreams of him ever since he arrived. How many times did Eddie walk these same sidewalks, bobbing and weaving to avoid accidental contact? How many times did he roll his eyes at the tourists, or hesitate before ordering bodega coffee, or step over a passed-out drunk on his way into his apartment?

He hardly makes it inside the doors of his hotel when he gets the first call. It is the first of many calls he will receive tonight, and the only one he will pick up. It's Bev. He settles into a leather armchair by the lobby fireplace and answers the phone.

"Hi, Bev-"

"Richie?" He can see her face just from her tone of voice and has to stifle a laugh at her wide eyes and open mouth. "Richie, I just saw the show-"

"Bev, slow down-"

"Why didn't you tell me? You could have told me-"

"Bev, please, go easy on him." This is Ben, muffled on the other line. Richie hears Beverly exhale, and when she speaks again, it's slower. Less frantic.

"Richie, that was... very brave of you."

"Thanks. It wasn't too disastrous?"

"No, we thought it was very... very you. And Richie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you." He blushes and feels another tear slide down his face.

"Thank you, Beverly. Do you think-"

"I think Eddie would be too. And, Rich, can I tell you something?"

"Shoot."

"...I don't know what it's worth, but I think Eddie loved you too." Richie chokes on his own breath and has to take a moment, coughing and pounding his chest. He has a vision of using a gray plastic HydrOx inhaler.

"It's worth everything, Bev. Look, I gotta go, but-"

"No worries, Richie. Call me if you need to talk."

"Bye, Rich."

"Bye, Haystack." The line clicks off. Richie leans back in his seat and looks around the lobby. It will not be long before the news of his dramatic exit becomes widespread. He doesn't dread the flood, though. He awaits it with open arms. "If Eds could see me now," he murmurs, warm relief settling in the pit of his stomach. And then, even quieter, with a genuine, melancholy smile: "Beep-beep, Richie."

[emile-hides]

YouWatch

This is a conversation topic that came up playing Overwatch last night; What if the Overwatch cast all has YouTube channels?

And while we voiced our opinions and debated to eachother, I feel the need to share all of my own takes as well.

Now, there’s 32 of these assholes so I’ll put it under the cut. Cause it’s long

Ana

Her channel is called “Grandma reacts”

Her viewers send her videos or shows to react to

She likes to have Jack, Gabe, Rein, and Torb on sometimes for some of the funnier videos

Hates daredevil compilations of people on high places with no safety gear

She swears at jump scares

Ashe

Daily vlogs

She calls her viewers part of the gang

BOB is the camera man and the crowd favorite

She mostly just likes to chat about nothing while wandering around the hide out

BOB makes really cool time lapses of them riding her bike down Route 66

Baptiste

Runs an advice channel

Mostly does Q&A live streams 

All of his ad revenue goes to local charities and hospitals

People sometimes donate to him and that also goes to charity

There’s a very slim chance he got overnight famous because he’s so pretty

Bastion

One 12 minute video of him playing with Ganymede in Torbjorn’s backyard

Torbjorn recorded it for him

Brigitte

Tried to do a make-up channel

Eventually devolved into a “How to” builder’s channel

Can put together an Ikea bookshelf in 15 minutes without even glancing at the instructions

Ikea furniture speed runs are her most popular videos

D.Va

Canonically already has a gaming channel

Also has a daily vlog channel where she hangs out with Lucio and Junkrat a lot

Takes requests on what games she plays

Despite mainly being an online PvP gamer, she adores playing story games and voice acting

She cried on live stream when she finished Undertale

Doomfist

Runs Talon’s official YouTube channel

All the videos are join Talon adds

Echo

Her channel is a mash

Will play or do any kind of video that’s popular at the moment

There’s three episodes of a Minecraft LP left to die

Seven vlogs all recorded almost 3 months apart

Two animations she made herself

A couple of reaction videos

And a Pachimari unboxing

She has a lot of sponsors

Genji

Also, canonically, has a gaming channel

Sometimes does videos of sick ninja tricks in his backyard

Has the same channel from before his fight with Hanzo, so there’s a 4-5 year gap between two videos

“So my brother tried to kill me” is the first video he makes when he finally comes back

Occasionally makes “Master reacts to (anime)” videos with Zenyatta

Hanzo

The show off channel

It’s mostly just target practice with his bow and arrow Genji recorded for him

90% of his comments are telling him to put a shirt on and cover the nipple

His channel also went dead after he killed Genji

Might start recording and uploaded unscheduled vlogs during his hobo days

Also does movie reviews

Junkrat

If I may defer your attention to this post

Yeah he just runs a demolition channel

Roadhog makes sure the camera doesn’t get damaged

Junkrat really loves the slow motion effect 

Lucio

Like Hana, he has two channels

One is his official music channel with music videos and concert clips

The other is also a vlog channel where he hangs out with Hana and Jamie

He’ll also talk about serious issues and his opinions on them on his second channel

McCree

Much like Hanzo, runs a show off channel

His is more popular because he’s straight up a cowboy though

People think it’s a gimmick for the channel. They have no idea he looks and sounds like that all the time

Mei

Has a scientific fact of the day Podcast with Winston

Talks about big issues

Her channel is very kid friendly and she explains things like global warming in a way they can understand

A lot of her videos will be watched by kids in science class

Mercy

“What to do encase of an emergency” tutorial videos

Gives basic medical training, like how to do CPR

Her videos are short and to the point so they can be played in an actual emergency

Genji is usually the person she uses as an example

Moira

Her channel is like Junkrat’s but more contained(?)

She does dangerous shit with chemicals but somehow it always ends wholesomly

The last minute of the video she speaks in a soothing Bob Ross voice as the lab is on fire behind her

The videos typically end with Angella coming back from her break

Orisa

It’s technically Efi’s channel

It’s a vlog to record Orisa’s progress tword becoming Numbani’s protector

Very popular, everyone loves how wholesome Orisa is

The money from the ads goes to fixing whatever Orisa breaks while trying to be helpful

All rude comments are deleted

Pharah

Show off channel

“99 dunks in a row” and such types of videos

They’re typically sped up with relaxing music

Lucio has appeared to play soccer with her a few times

Reaper

As Gabriel Reyes he ran a prank channel around the Overwatch base

He didn’t do any pranks that hurt or scared people though

Just recorded himself eating vanilla pudding out of a mayo jar to get people’s reactions

His favorite people to prank were Jesse and Genji because they had the most over the top reactions

Reinhardt is unprankable

The channel died with the fall of Overwatch

Reinhardt

Advice channel but louder than Baptiste

He’s full of energy in every one of his videos

Calls himself his viewer’s Grandpa

If anyone comes to him for advice on how to handle abuse of any kind he will adopt them on the spot

Also does meme reactions, sometimes has to have Brigitte explain what makes it funny

Has one video where he speaks quietly called “Grandpa reads a bedtime story” and it’s literally just him reading a bedtime story with soft music in the background

Roadhog

Toy unboxings

All of his videos are silent aside from the cute music he puts of them

The only part of him that’s ever on camera are his hands

Sigma

All his videos devolve into rambles about the universe

Other than that his channel doesn’t have a real theme

He tries to explain scientific principals but quickly turns into a shouting mess about the universe and gravity

Moira is the one to stop recording in the middle of his breakdowns

Soldier 76

Use to run a tutorial channel

Gabe called it “Dad Teaches you” and Jack hates that he’s not your father

He teaches you to cook basic meals and do simple repairs on a car

He talks in a very fatherly voice

Begrudgingly, he became his veiwers father

His channel died with Overwatch as well

Sombra

Gaming channel, but hacked

Does glitched speedruns on live stream

Clickbait thumbnails and titles

“How to get 1,000,000,000 free V-Bucks in Fortnite”

Steals kid’s Fortnite accounts

Symmetra

Stim channel

All of her videos focus on satisfying visuals

Someone asked her to do ASMR once and she hated it. The video existed for less than 24 hours

Torbjorn

Like Brigitte, runs a builder channel

It also doubles as a story time channel as he tends to ramble about the good old days

All his videos are 30+ minutes long

Somehow adds “and that’s how I lost my eye” to every story so no one knows how it actually happened

Bastion guest appears in a lot or Torb’s videos but only because he’s bored and wants attention

Tracer

Animated story telling

Makes animations of their missions and her day-to-day life

Thanks to her chronal accelerator animations take half as long

Still only uploads like two videos a month

Widowmaker

Food review videos

Hates everything, nothing gets high marks

Gets view ship cause she’s hot and very snarky

Winston

His channel is exactly like Mei’s

It’s more popular though because he’s a monkey and thus draws kid’s attention better

All of his viewers are elementary school science teachers and their class

Wrecking Ball

Tried to do a builder channel but all the comments were on how cute he is

Hates being called cute so he made his mech say swear words

He’s very popular with little boys

Also loves destruction and may destroy things for fun

“5000lbs wrecking ball VS Junkrat’s house”

Zarya

Vlogs but like... Work out vlogs.

It’s just time lapses of her at the gym

Insanely popular with lesbians for very obvious reasons

Encourages her viewers to take care of themselves and start slow

Blew a kiss at the camera once, became the most used image of her on the internet

Zenyatta

Most of his videos are relaxing music over beautiful visuals he recorded

The other half of his videos are meditation leadings and yoga

He’s also done videos on the omnic crisis and talked in length on his belief for the future

Has one video of him pranking Genji

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Stories, Tales & Facts (Part 1.) (Sriracha, Part 36.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Hopper was about to speak up about his past - from where his trouble had started to where it ended just before few weeks. But you didn‘t know how much shit he was through.

A/N: Let‘s face it. This chapter contains huge spoilers for Hopper‘s which is completely named in novel Darkness on the Edge of Town. So it should be at least partially cannonical.

Word count: 3.8 K

Tagging:  @nemodoren​, @creedslove​, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy​

Master list: H E R E

The next morning, you had woken up pretty early in the morning. At least, you fell asleep - Hopper was awake the whole time, just staring into the ceiling before he got out of the bed to eat something, make you a coffee and breakfast. Which made you smile a bit. He was still as thoughtful as he was before.

But you didn‘t even let him take a short breath before you asked the first question of the day.

“So, you said there‘s a lot.” - You mumbled and gave him a look as you sat down, gently pulling a bit away from him. - “That means you have to start from the beginning. Every tale has a beginning, the middle, and an end. Do you understand that friends don‘t lie?” - You asked Eleven‘s most favorite sentence. This sentence was bugging Jim off a lot back in the day. When you told him the sentence, you made him feel a bit better. It was a thing so known and nice.

“If you want to start from the beginnin‘ of my trouble, we will go way down back to the sixties.” -  Hopper told you honestly. At that, you chuckled.

“Jim, I already know that you were in Vietnam. That isn‘t anything new.” - You told him ironically. At that, he looked into your face.

“You know that I was there once. Wrong. I was there twice. The first time, it was in ‘62.” - Jim told you straight in your face. At that, your breath hitched in your throat. He was... Eighteen. He was fucking eighteen when he first was transported to that hell. - “And for your information, I went there voluntarily. Nobody asked me to go.”

You were looking him into the eyes. The questions in your eyes were completely vivid. Your lips were just opening and closing as you tried to tell him something back, but nothing hit your tongue.

“You don‘t understand how was it like in here back in the sixties. I didn‘t know what to do here, I was kinda... Lost. You‘re a psychologist, you should know what I was feelin‘. I wanted to feel like I‘m useful, not like I‘m just spendin‘ my life in the biggest asshole in the USA.”

“Then I went back for turnus number two in ‘68. After that, I met Diane. And believe or not, I was really happy with her. Not too long ago, in ‘71, Sara was born. And we left for New York, but you already know what I‘ve been doin‘ in there.” - He said without explaining to you any further.

Yeah, you‘ve heard that story already. How he was the big detective in Brooklyn‘s sixty-fifth district and how he went after something he called the card-murders, He almost killed a man back then. After that, Sara had died and Diane left him. Except for the Vietnam news, you hadn‘t known about any of that, you knew about everything. But the biggest shockers were just coming your way.

“I was hurt. Hurt. And then you came by and for a small while, everything seemed to be right. I felt good about myself for a time. That was when Will Byers disappeared." - Hopper took a deep breath, giving you a look. - "Promise me that no matter how crazy everythin' seems to be, you'll believe me. I won't ever make up anythin' like this. You promise?"

That was when you got quiet again, only drinking coffee while eating the mashed eggs he had prepared you. - "Friends don't lie. Tell me and we'll see how crazy this seems to be."

So Hopper did as you wished and told you about the November of '83. About Eleven, Papa, and the Lab. He didn't leave out a single detail. Jim didn't leave out any gore, he told you all about what Eleven can do, which was the first thing you weren't able to come around.

"Jim, she's a normal kid. I had raised my daughter for more than just a week. If there would be any red flags, believe me, I would notice." - You said a bit more aggressively than you anticipated. But you were sure that Jim is just fucking around with.

“You remember that one time we had a fight in the cabin and I fell flat on my ass? You thought I just lost balance.” - He told you rather seriously and you uncomfortably shifted into a different position. How would you be able to forget that argument? You were yelling, screaming, crying that night until Eleven came out of her room. - “Blood was drippin' out of her nose, which made you worried, remember?” - Jim whispered and you needed to look away for a second. You haven't noticed a single weird thing about your baby, she was just a normal, twelve-year-old girl when you met. But it all checked in, according to what Jim had told you.

After that, Jim proceeded to another part of the story - explaining why Will was getting worse and worse (that was because of a thing called the Mind Flayer), which you had noticed, what happened with the veins under Hawkins, the Demodogs, what Steve Harrington did which resulted in him and children being best friends, which you also knew. In detail, Jim described what happened underneath the Lab and that Eleven went to see Terry Ives, her biological mother. In the middle of the story, you had to take a short break to think about everything and to have another cup of coffee.

You started crying when you finally got to know what even happened to Joyce's Bob. You didn't believe a thing Jim said, it was so surreal, but you finally got an explanation. It didn't mean that the explanation would make you satisfied, but it was a piece of information with which you could fill the blanks you had in your head. He was eaten by some fucking Demogorgons, whatever that thing was. You had an idea of how did the monster look - once, you played D&D with the kids and something like that was in the game.

And when the Russians came to play, you couldn't understand anything anymore. You were just sitting there, listening to Hopper talking about Starcourt mall being invested with Russians living in an underground base. At the same time, the Mind Flayer got Billy Hargrove, that son of a snake who was Max's brother. It was literally - Mind Flayer got him. Because of the beast, the boy was dead. Jim didn't know that Billy was dead, but then you told him with a terrified expression.

When Jim finished Billy's part of the story, he proceeded to tell you what happened to him. The events happened to both you had met at one point - the moment when Eleven got out of the mall. Each one of you was there - you were hugging El in front of the mall while Jim and Joyce were trying to blow up the massive generator under Starcourt. That was the moment he had presumably died. That was something which Dr. Owens had come up with since they didn't find a single clue that Hopper had died in the generator room. For Hopper to have some time to catch some breath, Owens had decided to pronounce Hopper dead for the time they were searching for him - he found himself being in Russia, working in a gulag. He told you about how he had got out and contented Owens again, Sam helping him back into Indiana so Hopper could start a search for you once again. And because he was in such mental and physical state when he came back, he was taking Tuinal again.

You were back to the square one. Hopper was taking drugs, he was a stranger and on top of that, he was lying to you for almost three years in a row, which was quite impressive. You were slowly getting fed up and mad when you realized that three years, basically thirty-six months, every time something unnatural happened, every time some monster appeared, he figured out some lie to tell you. He was wrapping you in a silver lining after silver lining, again and again. Which had blown you away.

It was almost midday when he had finished - you were preparing some lunch so Hopper would have to eat something. You were just cooking some meat with vegetables, while Hopper let you get your mind sorted.

"I think that the drugs made something to your brain, Jim." - You snorted all of a sudden. It was one of your typical, ironical snorts. You put the potatoes into the oven, put your elbows over your chest, and looked at him. - "Because a single word of what you've said... These are all illusions and hallucinations. If you plotted all of this the six months you were God knows where it's really impressive. Hands down to you, my dude, you got me in the first half."

Jim looked at you. You weren't even crying. But... You cried when he told you what happened to Bob, you believed him, right? If you wouldn't believe him, why would you cry?

"And bringing almost everyone into that, the kids, Joyce, Steve, Bob, Powell, and Callahan... Dear Lord, you even put it onto a precise timeline. You are sitting here, in front of me, looking me dead in the eyes, telling me... All of this, expecting me to believe. Oh, God, James Hopper. You have disappointed me." - You put your palms on your hips, turning away from him with a burst of unbelieving laughter.

"You don't believe me? Fine, let's visit Mike and ask him. Ask Harrington about it. Even that Henderson boy would tell you that this is the truth. Not enough? Fine, Imma take you to the Lab. I will show you everything. Imma ask Nancy Wheeler to give me the photos of Demogorgon." - Hopper stood up in front of you, having his faces just inches from yours. His face was deadly serious and for a second, you thought about if you had poked some sensitive spot or what did you even do. You thought he went mental in the last six months.

"I hadn't told you because the government would be after you and if somethin' happened to you or her... I mean... Anythin'... How would someone like me even come across losing his loved ones? Once again?" - He took your shoulder to his palms, making you look into his eyes.

"In New York, a special agent of a secret state organization named Gallup showed me, how easy is for someone to disappear in a manner of an afternoon. And I'm sure that he would make Diane and Sara disappear the same, just as he told me he would in case I wouldn't want to cooperate with them in the Card murders case." - Hopper shook your shoulders, making you furrow a little.

James wasn't aggressive at that moment, no, he was just making you listen. And not just to register information that was coming out of his mouth. He wanted you to listen to what he was saying with the tone of his voice. It was really important for you to understand. But he was shaking your body as if you were a rag doll.

"And I know that if I would tell you a single thing of what have I told you just now, they would make you disappear, maybe they would deport you into the Russian hell I was in, they would get rid of you just like that." - One of his fingers snapped, making you even more scared than before. Your heard was pounding loud and quick, you almost didn't hear a word he had told you.

Was he serious? Was some secret state services spying on you and him, on your home, even your family perhaps? You haven't noticed a thing. Nobody ever had followed you, your phone wasn't monitored, there weren't any weird guys or women in your neighborhood. Ever. But... Jim seemed kinda serious, which made you gasp for air.

"I couldn't do that because I love you. And trust me, Tuinal didn't cause any of the things I've just told you. I'm not shittin' you, I'm not sayin' weird shit, it's just how it is." - Jim slowly let go of you, letting you step away from him as you started to panic again, covering your mouth with your palm. It wasn't the usual panic attack, this was... You were horrified.

It was hard to believe since what he had told was straightaway King-novel fanfiction shit. Hardcore eighties sci-fi and horror at its best. But... What would you do if Hopper had a chance to prove each of his points? What would you do then?

A fucking creature from which crawled another dimension was getting your girl, who had telepathic abilities by the way, and her friends in danger. And your fiancé was there both times, trying to keep your world and family safe.

"Look at this from my point of view, Jim. This is... Wild. This is more than fucking wild. Even if it would be a work of your imagination, which would be kinda incredible when I think about your imagination, it still would be wild. But you told me that there is... Proof, right? You can show me, that what you said?" - You asked again, pushing him away from the stove to continue with cooking the lunch.

"It is slightly illegal and can be called a trespassin', but I can show you everythin'." - Jim nodded and lit up a cigarette, taking one out of the pack you had there. You knew that you'd have to open up the window since both your mom and your dad were non-smokers. They wouldn't be very glad if they'd somehow find out that you or James smoked inside.

"I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and I'm willing to go there... Whenever your damn Lab even is. But if it turns out to be all just one big lie, I swear to God, Jim. You're on thin fucking ice and if that ice breaks under you..." - You rose your eyebrows, looking out of the window. Jesus, you were torn apart into two halves - one wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe Jim so, so, so fucking bad. You were still in love with him, which was undeniable.

In the end, you lived together for... About two years? You couldn't even count it since Hopper was disappearing rather frequently and was gone... For sometimes a week, something three months, sometimes half a year. It was hard to establish how much time from those three years, two and a half years specifically, you had a normal relationship. Were you even in that phase? In the phase of having a normal relationship?

The other half inside of you was fucking sure that Jim had gone insane. Because using shit from D&D, tying up all the people you knew into the story, telling you that it always happened only when you weren't around... Jesus fucking Christ. You took in another deep breath and lit up a cigarette too, trying to keep your head straight. You were shaking. Your muscles were spasming and letting go at a pace so fast that your body was burning up.

After serving Jim the lunch, you both dressed up to be at least warm and able to move in the winter outside. Jim had taken your dad's splitters along with an old flashlight and put them on the backseat while he made you sit behind the steering wheel. You were a bit nervous, which was leveling up adequately with your inability to start the car.

"God fucking damn it, this dumb old car, I swear." - You mumbled under your breath when the engine didn't want to start working. Without further ado, Jim got off the car and opened up the hood, looking inside of it. He still had the same expression had when he was trying to start your car. Your car was a moody machine, especially in winter. Hopper breathed out a bit of fog on his fingers, trying to warm them up before he started to play with the cables.

"Kick it." - He looked at you with his eyebrows risen. You did as you were told and turned the engine key, making the engine yell loudly. You would be lost in the winter when it wouldn't be for Jim. Nobody except him and your dad had the skill to start that old crap. Jim sat back to you with a shit-eating grin, making you grin as well.

You were driving while he was telling you where to take a turn and where you should drive in the woods. Not too long after that, you were parking the car near an old facility which seemed to be empty and abandoned for quite some time. The snow was reaching up to your waist and thighs, so it was quite hard to even get in front of the Lab. The glass door were shattered, from squatters or someone like that you assumed, so getting wasn't too much trouble either.

That was when you saw it - blood on the ground and walls. That made you cover up your mouth and hope that you won't throw up.

"That's where Bob had died. Owens had to leave the place so quickly they barely packed everythin'." - Jim said behind you quietly in a mourning voice. That made you stand up. There was no body, but the tracks of blood, even if someone was trying to cover them up with paint, were still visible. - "You doin' good?" - His palm gently patted and then smoothed your back, making you a bit more comfortable. Tears were coming up to your eyes again when you watched the spot.

As you told, you didn't know Bob that well - you knew that man only from Jim's and Joyce's stories and from meeting him less than five times. But the man was a genuine good person. That was why you were so fucking moved by seeing the exact spot where he... Passed away. Or where he was eaten to death. Dear God.

When you nodded, Jim took you further into the facility. The windows were shattered so the ice-cold winter evening wind was howling through there, the walls were graffitied, but to your surprise, some of the lights were still working.

Documents marked as super-secret were scattered in the ground, even if most of the text was blacked with a marker. There was a lot of equipment left behind, medical and research tools just scattered around on the ground and in the empty rooms. Jim really meant what he told you; the government basically made Owens clear the building in two days - which was why there was all the stuff still here. Owens only packed the necessities, pushed them into three loaded military trucks and left the place as if nothing ever happened there. Or that was at least what Murray was telling.

It maybe was looking scary, but it still wasn't anything unusual. It was just the vibe of the place that was off. Until you tripped over something. Before you fell into the ground, Jim caught you, but your eyes widened in realization. You tripped over a pile of bones. Something had died and rotted there.

But it was too small to be an adult human bones. First, when you squated, took a paper from the ground to cover your fingers, you thought that maybe it could be bones of a child. But when you picked one up and looked at it closely, your breath hitched once again. Back in your day on highschool, you studied medicine and anatomy a lot, since you didn't know if you want to be a normal doctor or a psychologist when you grow up. You liked to have a back up plan and medicine was quite interesting as well. So you knew how human bones should look like; you once even saw some.

But that structure, shape, the color... Nothing seemed to be even close to how should human bones look like. First, you thought that maybe, it could be some animal bones of an nimal which was dragged there or tried to escape to safety - you would be sure since veterinary medicine wasn't really you thing.

Then you noticed it. It just hit your eyes - small spikes on the bones. You knew that birds had their bone structure practically full so they could fly... But an animal with spikes on their bones? No. Any known animal had spikes on its bones as far as you were informed.

"This... Jim..." - You gasped for air and put the bone back on the pile. Slowly, the things he told you about Bob, these Demogorgons and shit... It seemed to be more and more real with each passing second.

"We ain't endin' here." - Jim told you and led even further into the facility; specifically under it. You needed to take a few staircases which were quite long, but you were at least one or two levels under the surface of land. The door was locked with a chip reader, so Hopper just broke in after a few tries.

That was where the shit got wild. Some lights were working, some were just lighting up just to go dark in the next second, flickering and making the atmosphere darker and darker.

You were in something that could be called an observation station with a few machines. There was a monitor that was showing something when it was working, a lot of buttons and a microphone. A wheelchair was thrown on the ground just few feet away from you. The place was giving you chills.

On your left, something like a decontamination chamber could be seen, the automatic door now being opened and not powered by the electric circuit.

"Where are we, James?" - You asked in a whisper, being really unnerved at that second. Jim didn't respond, the only thing he did was that he walked further in.

So you followed him.

[alextriestowritestuff]

House of Hades Read With Me

Hey everyone, I’m back with an update. If you haven’t been following this thread, I’ve been reading the Heroes of Olympus series by Rick Riordan. I read the first three books in this series back in 2012 and never finished. If you want to know my background with the PJO series and my thoughts on the Son of Neptune (I started my re-read with that book because Lost Hero is trash imo), you can find that here. My thoughts on Mark of Athena is here. So let’s get into the House of Hades 50% update that will include spoilers so you’ve been warned. 

Okay so I’m going to use two images to convey my thoughts on this book so far:

Okay so let’s address the first image... um. I’m fucking terrified. I’m scared of Percy and I’m scared for him and Annabeth (She told him that she loves him ahhhhhh, I need him to say it back tho). My past read with me’s have been pretty harsh on the HoO series so far but I really like this book so far. Dear gods, please let the other half of the book be good! Rick you’re doing amazing sweetie (kind of-we’ll get into it). So far, I’ve cried at Percy and Annabeth thinking about each other and how tired and hungry they are. And when Percy and Annabeth were surrounded by Kelli and the other empousai and I really thought it was done for them (I know they don’t die but the fear I felt was real) then Bob came in and saved them. And when Percy was surrounded by the Arai and Annabeth was temporarily blinded by a curse. Like he literally says, if I’m going to die, I’m not going to let them hurt Annabeth and he went out fighting (out meaning unconscious in this case) ughh my heart. It was torn out of my chest!! 

Brief pause because the Arai said that Calypso cursed Annabeth because Percy left her and I just can’t really emotionally deal with that fact because Battle of Labyrinth is my favorite PJO book BECAUSE of Calypso’s appearance. I’ve held a torch for that girl to find happiness for years and to think she cursed Annabeth (Obvi she didn’t know it’d actually affect Annabeth years later), that shit kills me. But I remember thinking in the Last Olympian why Percy didn’t ask for some sort of amnesty for Calypso when he was telling the gods to claim their kids, etc. So I’m glad he realizes he f-ed up there but ugh why Calypso?? It’s okay, I know that her and Leo get together so she’ll be happy eventually. I just have to wait. 

But let’s also talk about the fact that I’m starting to feel bad for monsters? Annabeth and Percy have been reflecting on what it’s like to be sent to Tartarus by a demigod and slowly reforming. And all the curses the Arai gave Percy were manifestations of how he killed those monsters so he felt their deaths which seeing him in pain, put me in pain. Like Rick don’t do this to me. I don’t want to feel bad for monsters but I do. I’m curious to see how this experience will change Percy and Annabeth’s willingness to kill monsters in the future. I really like this presentation of the monster’s perspective, I think it’s very interesting. In relation, I’ve noticed HoO is a lot darker in theme (even before this book) just by the way they phrase things. Like the demigods will say ‘kill monsters’ or ‘kill’ very easily compared to PJO where I felt that death was sugar coated because it was a middle grade genre. Most deaths were off screen (off page?) like Beckendorf’s. Or not very grim. And this series is much more in your face about it, especially in House of Hades. It was hard to get used to at first but I think it shows maturity, it’s well within the realm of YA to kill off characters and explicitly say so it’s just strange going from PJO to this imo. 

Moving onto the next image, the slowly being seduced one. AHAHA Um can someone tell me why I was briefly seduced by Frank and Percy?? So Percy, I’m always seduced by, that’s not new. But him being scary makes him 100x more attractive. Like imagine if Percy had been on the titan’s side? The gods wouldn’t have had a chance. Here’s some quotes:

(This is after Percy kills Arachne, on pg 6) Percy kicked the dust on the rocks, his expression grim and dissatisfied. “She died too easily, considering how much torture she put you through. She deserved worse.” Annabeth couldn’t argue with that, but the hard edge in Percy’s voice made her unsettled. She’d never seen someone get so angry or vengeful on her behalf. It almost made her glad Arachne had died quickly. “How did you move so fast?”

Then when Percy convinces Bob to kill the reforming Hyperion, Annabeth thinks this: 

How was he keeping his cool? The way he talked to Bob left Annabeth awestruck…and maybe a little uneasy, too. If Percy had been serious about leaving the choice to Bob, then she didn’t like how much he trusted the Titan. If he’d been manipulating Bob into making that choice…well, then, Annabeth was stunned that Percy could be so calculating.

He met her eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression. That bothered her too (22). 

Like what?!?! Please come pick me up, Uncle Rick. I’m scared. What’s happening to Percy?? I need them to get out of there STAT! I have no theories as to why he’s acting like this (maybe it’s the energy of Tartarus) but I’m excited to see where it goes. But Scary Percy is also right up my alley so ugh, I’m conflicted. 

So next, Frank. Rick did something hella problematic here but before I get into that, here’s the line where I was slowly being seduced by him:  

Frank was faster. He lunged at Trip and slammed him into the wall, his fingers locked around the god’s throat.

“Think about your next words,” Frank warned, deadly calm. “Or instead of beating my sword into a plowshare, I will beat it into your head” (19). 

Like ngl, that choke thoo?? I’ve never been attracted to Frank but my god, the dangerous tone, the threat. I had to put my hair up and get a cold glass of water when I read that. Frank was the last person I thought would do something like this but I am not mad at all. Very Ares of him.

What I am mad about, however, is the fact that after this scene, Frank (or it’s Hazel that notices) notices that he’s becoming taller and better built. Because Mars/Ares gave him a little ‘grow spurt’. Now let me say this: I’m not one of those people who think that everything problematic was meant to be intentionally offensive/stereotyping/harmful. I know that Rick has had his fair share of controversies ever since he’s been incorporating diverse characters. That comes with the territory of writing marginalized character-I’m black and I still have watch myself in how I portray black characters. He has do the research and I don’t he did it. Sorry. 

And I’m sure I haven’t even caught half of the problematic things brought up in HoO (there’s times where Hazel’s hair or skin is described as cinnamon, like food when other non black characters don’t get that kind of description. Also the fact that her name is Hazel like Hazelnut has always bothered me but I digress). Back to Frank’s growth spurt. Prior to that, other characters have described him as a bit on the chubbier side, baby faced, ‘big guy’ (that bothers me tho but that might be an internalized societal mentality that any word like fat or big = bad. And that’s not always true but I personally don’t feel comfortable calling someone that), etc. And he’s of Asian (spec. Chinese) descent. For what it’s worth, I’m not Asian so this may be out of lane to talk about but from my personal life experiences, Asians tend to be on the smaller end of the scale when it comes to size. I am 5″7 ish, size 6 and I would be considered overweight in mainstream Asian stores but in Western stores, I’ve never had an issue fitting in something or finding my size. I also tend to have a lot of options fashion wise. I have an Asian friend (Lmao I feel like one of those yt people who are like I have a black friend so I can say this and that. sorry I’m trying to get a point across) and she is plus sized. She doesn’t fit into the straight sizes in America so by Asian standards, she’s considered anywhere from moderately to morbidly obese. And she faces a lot of judgement from her Asian relatives because of it in addition to the fatphobia that has infiltrated American society as well. 

My friend doesn’t see a lot of representation for Asians her size. If she does she sees Asians that isn’t as thin and small, it’s people with my size who are considered thin by Western standards but ‘big’ by Asian sizing. My problem with having Frank be given a growth ‘spurt’ is that it’s erasing that plus sized Asian representation. This wouldn’t have been a good thing to do to ANY character that was plus sized but do you see where it’s even more problematic to do because of his Asian ancestry? It would’ve been fine if at the end of the series, he got hella fit and happens to be more in shape because of all the fighting he’s done but to be given that growth spurt implies that there was something wrong with his size in the first place. And so far, the other demigods have been taking him more seriously (Frank notes that Leo has stopped teasing him as much) which is kind of thin privilege esque to me. Frank may not be my favorite character but he deserved respect, no matter his size. I think this growth spurt aspect was hella problematic and Rick shouldn’t have done it. It was also unnecessary as hell. He looked fine before and could do everything the other (thinner) demigods could do just as well.

This is getting long so let me get to my last couple of points: Nico and the many, unnecessary POVs.

As y’all know by now, I think Nico deserves rights. He deserves friends and place to call home where he belongs. Both Frank and Jason didn’t want to be alone with Nico because they thought he was creepy and I can see where this is a set up to eventually have him fit in but damn, he’s just a kid. Be nice to my son. I feel like one of those mom’s who just wants their kid to make a friend at school. Will Solace as his love interest please come sooner. Again, I’ve been spoiled to this. I’m interested to see how this pans out and if this relationship will be a kind of aside mention like the fact that Grover and Juniper are dating or will it be given the same focus as opposite sex couples like Percabeth and Jasper. And I already knew Nico liked Percy but I didn’t expect it to come out in the way it had. It makes his relationship with Percy make a lot more sense. And I see how Nico could view him in that sense after Percy saved him and Bianca in Titan’s Curse and how he was like the real life version of his Mythomagic games (also I totally forgot he played that, he’s not that excited little boy anymore ugh, his innocence left ever since Bianca died). Overall, I think Nico being gay was handled well-Jason’s reaction was very straight but supportive so he gets a pass there. My point is Nico deserves the world. That’s all. 

The POVs. Again, I don’t know if people who aren’t writers would have an issue with the POVs in this series but I do. So far, we’ve had Hazel, Leo, Frank, Annabeth, Percy, and Jason narrate. I said this before, Rick needs to stick to 3 or 4 POVs because this shit don’t make sense. Annabeth and Percy are in the same setting together, they can’t even go on side quests because they’re in Tartarus so like why do we need both of them to narrate?? If they separate at some point, maybe. Don’t get me wrong, I love their narration but it’s jarring as hell to keep bouncing from POV to POV. I also saw somewhere that they don’t get a narration POV in Blood of Olympus in which case, I sure as hell don’t want to be reading the POV in the HoO characters who I don’t really jive with except Leo. So Hazel is going to be important to the Mist thing whatever, it makes sense she gets a POV (and she hasn’t had one since tSoN/same with Jason but the Lost Hero instead) but Frank and Leo? And I really thought since it’s 5 demigods (Percabeth in Tartarus) they’re going to be able to do side quests with all 5 of them that we didn’t need so many POVs but guess I was wrong. Idk it’s driving me insane, Rick should’ve done third person omniscient (Think Harry Potter and it can still follow different people like Percabeth in Tartarus). 

Damn, if this is how much I have to say about the first half of HoH, I’m really excited to get back to reading the last half. I’m HELLA looking forward to have Reyna join the quest temporarily (where I left off, she is on her way to the 5 demigods). I want the Piper/Reyna/Jason thing to be resolved (a lil drama would be nice) so Piper can stop being annoying and insecure. I want to know who Coach Hedge has been talking to and is he a good guy? Oh and another thing that’s been bothering me is Gale, Hecate’s polecat? It just farts all the time. And I have to remember I’m 20 and this books isn’t targeted to me so juvenile humor isn’t funny to me anymore but it’s just kind of gross and unnecessary?? 

Anyway, I’m going to have to start a new post for the last half of my HoH read with me because this thing is long. But you guys, I am invested into this book. It is on par with my love for PJO books so far. I could give this book a 4.5 stars (despite some faults) if it keeps going this way. Thanks for reading! 

[sroloc--elbisivni]

It’s been three months since my dad died.

I think about him every day. Never in the same way twice. Sometimes it’s like last night, where I started remembering the way he grinned and the way he made salmon and how much I miss him and start crying into my pillow. Sometimes it’s like today, where I feel numb and dull and empty until I realize it’s been a quarter of a year and I’m not going to do anything for the rest of my life but get further and further away from him, and the person I was when I knew him. And then I start crying on a plywood platform thirty feet off the ground at work.

I’ve been working a lot this week. This whole semester, really. I’ve wanted to be busy. I’ve wanted to not think about things. And I hate it, because I know that thinking about him is one of the only ways he’ll get fully remembered, and I’m too afraid of getting lost in missing him, and I need to move on and be in the world and I don’t always want to.

But the further away I get, the more I lose. So let me tell you about my dad.

‘You’ being, the general world I guess. You don’t need to read this. I just need to say it. Pretend I can shout at the world “A GOOD MAN IS DEAD” and have it matter.

My dad was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and he had the state in his bones—one time I needed to know what city for paperwork, and I texted him to ask if it was Fargo, and he said “No, the other big eastern city.” He understood blizzards and thunderstorms and dressing for the cold, and he taught them to my brother and me even though we were growing up in coastal California, where only one of those happened, and then rarely.

He was brilliant. If you want to know anything about my dad, it was that he was brilliant, and he was kind, and he was loving. He also had several small strokes at the end of his life that meant he didn’t remember or retain things well, and that he got more irritable, and reclusive, and locked into routine. We didn’t know about the smaller strokes until a month before the one that would kill him. Just that he was getting more distant.

My dad was prickly at the oddest times, and he had a temper, and he hated telemarketers, and bad drivers. He lashed out when he got mad and got sulky when you lashed back. He could snipe, and pick at things you didn’t even realize you were sore about, and didn’t know how to listen to a problem without trying to fix it.

He was good at fixing problems. He would take apart a toaster to fish out a burnt piece of bread, and study up on the riding lawnmower engine and go at the engine over and over again, and learned like he breathed. He wanted to write a book about learning, about the way we think and how it actually works, and what thinking is and what learning is and therefore what teaching should be. He believed that learning was just patterns of action. He and my mother literally wrote a book on how to teach in a way that built things up, rather than trying to pick at people’s behavior until they did what you wanted.

My dad was a teacher. He was a wonderful teacher. He taught me how to ride a bike, and drive a car, even when I was yelling at him, and he taught me how mean, median, and mode worked for a third grade science project. He helped talk me through algebra, and fractions, and division. He tried to teach me editing, but that went badly, because I was fourteen and had decided I knew what was best, and he never knew how to let things he cared about go.

He was a teacher for all of his adult life, even though he only ended up in the teacher’s program at his college because he took the RA’s keys after the RA left them lying around and he thought that was irresponsible, and the authority in charge of his punishment was his mother’s friend and also the Dean of Education. He stayed in the education program at the University of North Dakota for the next several years, helped found the school’s first no-hazing fraternity, found a skull with some friends at an archaeological dig site and held onto it for a couple years, went nocturnal for a while, and wrote his dissertation on the way we learn and the history of education. He talked about cave paintings, as early human abstract thought, but he didn’t get to see them until last year, when we went to France. My brother and I had to make sure he didn’t fall, as we went down into the cave, because it was rough and sloping and he was unsteady on feet he couldn’t quite feel anymore.

My dad had diabetes. My dad loved food. By the end of his life, he had lost feeling almost all the way to his knees, and insulin was taking up more room in our fridge than the eggs and milk put together. He was a great believer in the power of ice cream, as a special treat or just to hide in the fridge for when you wanted a taste. His favorite food that I baked was chocolate chip cookies. I made them with his mom’s recipe. Every time i was baking, he’d walk by and try to steal a piece. He stole popcorn every time we made some, too. Called it a ‘popcorn tax’. He used food as a love language, which made it awkward every time you ended up stopping on the way home for dinner without him, on a night he was cooking. He loved going out to eat, and would always talk to the waiter. He would always talk to anyone, really. More than the rest of us would like. My brother and i would always complain that he didn’t have to tell people our whole story, that they didn’t care. But he cared, and sometimes strangers did too, and sometimes they became friends.

My dad loved having friends. He loved knowing people, and talking to them, and learning from them and teaching them. He loved people, but had the misfortune of marrying an introvert and fathering two more. He was the popular kid in high school, on the football team and the newspaper. It was a Catholic high school—he was a Catholic until college, and then he started asking a lot of questions and never really went back. But he remembered all the theory, and all the questions, and all the things they tried to answer, and he could tell you about them if you wanted to know. My mom remembers when he met her aunt for the first time, a former nun, and they spent a good hour debating the finer points of something she couldn’t understand and barely remembered about the Holy Stations. He was good at that, at making you feel in every conversation that he was looking right at you, and interested in what he saw.

He got his doctorate in education, moved to Colorado, learned to ski, learned to parallel park—at 38, something I never failed to bring up when he was trying to teach me to drive—got married, became a step-father, started a charter school, had a wonderful couple of years teaching things the way he felt people would learn them, worked a paper route to try and keep it going, closed the school, dressed his stepkids up as Jawas for Halloween, got divorced—not necessarily in that order. I wish I’d asked my dad more about this part of his life. All I have are unconnected stories. Eventually he went back to North Dakota, and met my mom, and they spent the rest of his life together as “itinerant academics,” trading off who found a job at another university when they wanted to move. They got married at a courthouse two days before Christmas, because my dad needed health insurance and Mercury was going into retrograde. They had a kid in St. Paul and another in Tacoma. They were progressive educators, at a time when that wasn’t a comfortable thing to be in the Northern Midwest, and they made the giraffe their mascot because they kept ‘sticking their necks out’. I didn’t really appreciate that my parents were rebels against a system until I found out that in his first year of teaching, my dad and his friend had adjoining classrooms, and they came in with sledgehammers one weekend and knocked down the wall so they could have a big open classroom.

I found that out at his funeral. So many people my parents know are scattered all over the country, which is great for road trips and hard for gathering. They sent stories instead.

My dad played the guitar, and he sang in his first year of college—at a Catholic school choir, before he transferred, and the Beach Boys on the bus. He loved the Grateful Dead, and Jimmy Buffet, and the Eagles, and Peter Paul and Mary, and the Kingston Trio, and Bob Dylan, and he loved singing along in the car and dancing along in the kitchen, shuffle-step bouncing to the beat. He wore a sweatshirt with the logo of the elementary school my brother and I went to for fifteen years at least, from the time I was in kindergarten to the time he died. I remember it getting covered with cat hair, after the cat followed us on a walk to school too far to turn around and take her home, so he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She shed in terror. He used to carry the little half size cello I started learning on to school and back, every Wednesday and Friday, on his back making jokes about being a Sherpa.

My dad liked jokes. My dad liked to laugh. He loved comic strips, and insisted that my brother and I be allowed to read as many as we wanted. Probably the reason he and I got so very good at reading. I would recite Calvin and Hobbes and Garfield and Baby Blues to him, retelling what I remembered and hoping he’d laugh at the punchline. I’d show him things I found on the Internet when I got older, still trying and trying to make him laugh. I was less and less successful over time.

He was excited about the new Star Wars movies. I remember him telling me from his computer in his office, showing me the article. I remember going to the midnight showing of Episode VII, but not VIII—he couldn’t stay up that late. We saw Rogue One with my uncle, weeks after it came out. My dad was always the one who took us to movies as a kid. He liked stories. He liked to have fun. He liked Terry Pratchett and Robert B Parker novels and books about how the universe worked that took him months to finish. He had a brother, a younger brother, and lost him months after he lost his dad, years after he lost his mom. He saved things from them—the couch he grew up with, half a dozen chairs, boxes and boxes of books and records, a flag on the wall, a breakfront with china in it, all kinds of other keepsakes. My dad liked things. liked to save things. Liked to remember people—and he had a good memory. Up until the end.  I came out to him about my gender six times, because he just couldn’t retain it when I told him. and every single time, he was supportive, and careful, and kind, even when he didn’t understand.

He loved our dog so much. He would make her food just so, with kibble and wet food and bacon grease all mixed together and heated in the microwave just so she’d like it. He used to take her on walks, every single day, and took her everywhere in the car with him. They walked on the beach a lot. My dad loved the beach, probably because he lived so far away from it until he was 51. I was born when he was 52.

My dad worried a lot about math education. how people get traumatized by math, and when they become teachers and parents, they pass on that learning math is hard. He worked for UC Berkeley for years, running a program to give engineering students the skills to become teachers. He ran a summer camp in Emeryville for STEM for high schoolers. Or…middle schoolers? I don’t remember anymore. He made these math models, abaci and blocks that showed ones and twos and tens and how numbers fit together into bigger numbers, and then he painted them all the colors of the rainbow so they wouldn’t be scary. So they’d be toys, something fun and beautiful and clever.

There are so many more things, about what a full and beautiful and complicated human he was that I can’t pull to mind or don’t have the words for, but I need you to know he was more than everything I’ve managed to pour here. 

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the best dad I could have had. He was smart enough to answer all the questions I asked him, and he gave wonderful hugs, and he loved with a heart as big and open as the prairie sky. And I miss him, so, so, much, and it hurts to think of how I’ve been missing him for a long time, as little pieces of him broke off and drifted away when we weren’t noticing.

His name was George W. Gagnon, Junior. People called him ’Sandy’ as a kid to keep him distinct from his dad, because he had blonde hair as a baby. When I was little, it was dark, dark brown on the sides and circling the bald top. In the beginning of July it was a snowy white.

He’s my dad, and he’s gone, and I’ve spent the past three months knowing that I’m never going to go home again, not really. And knowing that ‘family’ is too big and whole a word to fill with what we have left.

I can’t cry in front of other people anymore. And I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling, or what the world is like now. I just want people to know.

A good man is dead. He loved, and was loved, and laughed, and learned, and ate good food and made bad jokes. And even after writing all of that—I still miss him, and he’s still gone.

[katlyn1948]

Codename: Chapter 9: Gendry

So side note before you read...I cross post this on AO3 and I literally just copy and paste over here so please excuse my notes...

Codename

Katlyn1948

Chapter Management

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Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Gendry

Summary:

Things finally happen.

Notes:

I am so so so so so sorry that this took forever for me to write! First, I've been super overworked at work and have little to no time to actually work on this. Second, I share a laptop with my mom and she goes to school so I hardly have it most of the time (I also have to password protect my docs because I don't need her reading what I wrote) and haven't been able to write. I try to work on it a bit during my lunch break, but what I wrote is NSFW and I don't really want my boss creeping up behind me while I'm writing smut, that would be very embarrassing. So I had a little free time today and decided to FINALLY get this out!! I am actually quite proud of this smut chapter, consider I literally never write it. Look, I am going to be upfront and personal, I've only ever had one sexual experience in my life and I was in college so...my inspiration comes from fellow fanfic writers. SOOOO with that being said, please excuse any parts of this chapter that may be incorrect? (Yes I ended it as a question because I honestly don't know). Anyway, ish will start to go down after this chapter. Like I know it is only DAY ONE into their vacay, but I'm about to TIME WARP this bitch. Also, that mean that the next chapter may be a little longer. I am aiming for around 4,000 words to wrap up FIVE DAYS of SEX and VACAY, we'll see. Anyway, I hope you do enjoy and for those of you who asked about An Unexpected Journey and when that will be updated...I honestly don't know. I sort of hit a road block with that one and will get to it when I get out of that road block. I hope to finish before the end of the year, but IDK, IDK. This note turned out longer than expected and I doubt that you all want to read 2,000 words of my nonsense, so without further ado, please enjoy this VERY SMUTTY chapter.

I borrowed a line out of one of my fave TV shows in this chapter. It is tweaked of course, to fit the story, but let's see who gets it! HINT: It airs on STARZ.

Chapter Text

Gendry wasn’t sure when they moved to the bed, but he was glad that they did. It allowed Arya a better vantage to properly suck his cock, although he was sure that she could get him off no matter the position. She wasn’t quick about pleasuring him and for that, he was grateful. The other women he had been with rushed when it came to him, leaving him less than disappointed, but with Arya, she knew how to take her time.

He watched her as she guided her small hands along his shaft, stroking it with a slight squeeze. The feeling was intoxicating and he was sure that he would come within seconds. The last thing he wanted to do was ejaculate prematurely like some silly schoolboy who couldn’t handle himself. It took every inch of his being to hold onto the amounting pressure bubbling from him.

He had to admit that she was good with her hands. They were soft and delicate, yet rough and fierce all at once. However, the best thing about Arya pleasing him is that she knew exactly what she was doing. It’s not as if Gendry had been with inexperienced women, they were just turned off by reciprocating the favor. He would spend countless minutes making sure that his lover was properly pleased, yet when it came to him, they either performed haphazardly or flat out refused. Trying to get his ex-girlfriend to participate was an all-out war and became not worth the trouble.

His thoughts were suddenly brought back to the petite brunette bobbing her head up and down his shaft. The sensation had jolted him and he was inches away from sputtering into her mouth. Her mouth was heaven and if he felt this way, but just her light sucks than he was sure to explode when her folds were tightly around him. He could hear the sounds from below as she sucked her way up his cock and over his wet tip, licking the pre-come away from his opening. It was sexy sight and he was sure that he grew harder than ever before.

She returned her mouth to his head and glided her lips down, stopping before his tip could reach the back of her throat. He could hear her let out a gargled gag, the sweet sound breaking that last walls of will he had remaining. With a visceral moan, he bucked his hips upward and spilled his seed into her mouth. She gulped his remnants, wiping away was little seed escaped with the back of her hand.

Gendry watched as she crawled up the bed and plopped beside him, a glowing expression present on her face.

“That was…wow.” He said as he regained some of his composure.

Arya smiled, “Why thank you, sir. You don’t do half bad yourself.”

“Do you know how hard it was for me not to explode the moment your hands touched me? Pretty fucking hard.” He gasped as he engulfed her into his arms.

“What can I say? I have natural talent.” She teased.

Gendry chuckled and placed a light kiss on her lips. He could tell that she was exhausted and if he was being honest, so was he. He wasn’t sure if it were the drinks or the sheer force of their heated session that had drained his body, but he was sure that he could not lift his tired head from the soft pillow without struggle. He glanced down at the naked form beside him and noticed that, while lost in thought; Arya had silently fallen asleep, still wrapped up in his arms.

He began to study her features then; how her hair had soft waves that cascaded down to her shoulders or how vibrant her gray eyes had been. He even noticed the number of deep scars that scattered her lower abdomen and couldn’t help but wonder the story behind them.

Not once in his life had he been this captivated by a woman. She had only glanced at him from a distance and immediately reeled him into her intoxicating mind. He hated that they only had a short time together, but he was sure to make the most of it.

As he watched her sleep, he could feel himself become drowsy with exhaustion. Their romp, even if they hadn’t truly fucked, had taken most of his energy. He was delightfully surprised that a woman of her stature could keep up with his vigorous lust. He had truly found his match and the thanked the gods for finding him such a rare woman, too bad she would be out of his life in just a few short days.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke, he noticed that Arya was no longer in his arms but rather perched on his lap, fully naked, circling her hips in such a way that made him groan with pleasure.

“You fell asleep on me, good sir.” She teased as she grinded her hips against his.

Gendry struggled to get the words out of his mouth, “You fell asleep first.”

She leaned down and placed a small peck onto his lips, “Then punish me for doing such a horrible thing.”

He instantly grew hard and he couldn’t stop his hands from moving to her hips, locking her in place. It was a sight to see her on top of him, and as much as he wanted nothing more than to have her beneath him, slamming his cock into her dripping pussy, he enjoyed the illustrious show she was providing.

He could feel her folds slide against his throbbing cock, getting it slick with her wetness. Each pass made him grip her hips harder, and soon he would no longer be able to stand not being inside of her. She teased him a few more times before slowly lowering herself over him.

And Gods it felt like he had died and been brought back to life.

He could feel her walls squeeze against his tender member and he was sure that if she shifted just slightly, he would come almost instantly. She was tight and he could see the slight discomfort on her face. In their earlier throes of passion, she had stated that she was by no means a virgin, but Gendry was sure that he may have been the largest man she had taken.

Concerned for her wellbeing, he asked, “Are you alright? Would you like to stop?”

She opened her eyes suddenly and shook her head with a force, “No! I just need a minute to…adjust. I haven’t been with a man in nearly a year and I certainly haven’t been with a man of your size.”

A smug smile creeped onto his lips, “Well, I’m happy to offer you such new experiences.”

She scoffed and slapped him across the arm, causing her to shift on his shaft. The sensation sent both into instant pleasure.

He steadied his grip on her hips and guided her up before slamming her back down atop him. She screamed in ecstasy and he gritted his teeth to prevent a moan to escape his lips. Up and down, she rode him, and he marveled at the sight. He grabbed ahold of her breast, massaging them as she bucked her hips forward. He could tell she was about to have her release, as he felt her walls clench tight around him. Arya screamed his name and collapsed across his chest, huffing deep breathes.

“Wow.” She breathed.

He nodded, trying to catch his own breath, but he knew that they were no where near finished. She was able to get her release and he wanted nothing more than to get his, all while giving her a few more along the way.

He encircled his arms around her and swiftly turned, pinning her beneath him. He pulled her arms above her head and held them in place with one of his own, while the other creeped to her slick folds. He instantly found the nub he was looking for and flicked it a few times, causing her to buck her hips.

“Stop teasing.” She huffed.

“Oh, I am returning the favor.” He grinned.

In on motion, his still hard cock slammed deep within her.

“Fuck!” She screamed, only adding to his hunger.

He thrust harder and faster, bringing her to the edge of no return. For several minutes he did nothing but pleasure the best way he new how; with the added sensation of him rubbing that sweet pearl, she was withering in complete euphoria.

Gendry soon felt his own release coming. He wanted nothing more than to spill inside her; to watch his hard work seep out of her dripping flower, but despite the fact they were fucking like mares in heat, he still didn’t know her and didn’t want to run the risk of doing something stupid.

With a few more thrust and his release nearly there, he began to pull out, but was quickly stopped by her raspy voice, “No, don’t. I want to feel you. All of you.”

He needed no more invitation, so with a low gruntled moan, he released his seed inside of her. He could feel her body gladly except. They were truly spent, so much so that his softening member was still inside of her. He hardly had the energy to pull out, but he was able to muster a bit to do so.

There they laid in each other’s arms, with a light layer of sweat trickling their skin.

Gendry wiped the hair sticking to Arya’s face behind her ear and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“I think I am thoroughly spent.” He managed to get out.

She nodded and snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, “I’ve never had sex like that before; it was like I had mounted a bull. Gods, what have I gotten myself into?”

Gendry chuckled at the inclination. If only she knew exactly what he did for a living and what they called him. “More like, who have I gotten myself into. At least you don’t have any bite marks. I could have sworn I felt a little nibble when I was plowing into you.”

“When you bed a wolf, you should expect to get bit.” She said with a smile. Gendry could only laugh at the remark. She was indeed a wolf, and that he had to be weary off.

“So, you’re a wolf then?”

“Hmm, something like that.”

[broadwaycantdie]

L'ho Fatto Per Te - Sprace

a/n: two things; 1) i only know very basic italian so i’m sorry if some of this is wrong , 2) i picture giuseppe bausilio‘s racer for this more than anyone else’s cause it goes best for the storyline but that’s just me, picture whoever ya want

warnings: some n.s.f.w parts included // translations will be in parentheses

————————————————————————

“I literally see no difference between when I’m suppose to use la and when I’m suppose to use una.”

“This is basics 1; ain’t this supposed to be easy?”

“Damnit, outta health again.”

Spot sat on the couch of his apartment, waiting for his boyfriend to come home.

Spot and Race have been dating for a while. But something big was coming up. Race’s parents were coming—luckily not anytime soon, but they’d still have to meet him.

Race’s parents lived in Italy. They sent Race away when he was young to have a better life. Unfortunately, they had to make a sacrifice and stay behind. Race visited when he could but money was tight. He hadn’t seen them in a long time.

He was over the moon when he got the call that his parents would be flying into town before the year ended. As soon as he found out, he told Spot—hell, he told everyone.

Spot was nervous. He wanted to impress his boyfriend’s parents. He had to make a good impression.

As soon as Race explained the situation, Spot got an idea. He was going to learn Italian.

He didn’t want to tell Race. He had to wait. So he kept his lessons secret.

He started with teaching himself. Using Duolingo as his main tool, as well as attempting to read Italian works. Race had no idea.

They lived together. Making hiding Spot’s lessons harder. He often stayed up later than Race just to get in his daily lesson, forcing him to sleepily decipher between “lei è la donna” and “lei è una donna”.

Spot set daily reminders to do his lessons. Race noticed and asked him about it.

“Hey babe, what this duolingo notification?”

Spot’s heart dropped and without skipping a beat replied.

“Oh yeah, JoJo wanted me to learn Spanish so we could talk about people without getting caught.”

Sounded believable enough. Race put it past him and moved on.

Spot’s boyfriend was fluent in Italian. He spoke it his whole life and only learned English after arriving in New York many years back. He still had a touch of an accent and fumbled on some words when he couldn’t remember.

When he and Race got intimate, Race loved to talk. Spot could tell he was doing good when Racer started spewing Italian as oppose to English. He let out all his emotions in his native language and Spot loved that about him.

Everytime he spoke Italian, Spot fell more and more in love.

A few months into his lessons, Spot started trying to put what he knew into practice. Not around Race, but wherever he could. He’d go down to the Italian deli and test his skills. Usually doing pretty okay with the occasional slip up or miss-pronunciation.

Their anniversary came up and Spot took Race to a very nice dinner; later being followed by Racer’s favorite type of dessert.

They got back to their apartment and things turned hot and heavy.

As soon as they walked in Spot wrapped his arms around Race’s waist; kissing and pushing him against the wall. They quickly went to the bedroom. Spot dropped Race down on the bed and began undressing until Race stopped him.

He sat up and unbuttoned Spot’s shirt, slowly pushing it down his arms, running his fingers across his muscles. Race took off Spot’s pants just as slowly, this time running his fingers over Spot’s perked up boxers.

Spot took off Racer’s shirt and admired his beauty.

His hair was already messy, but it was about to get worse. His eyes matched Spot’s—dark and inviting. His skin always had a glow on it, as if he just came back from a nice day at the beach. Spot loved him.

Things picked up and Spot pulled out a lot of things he’d been holding back.

He grabbed Racer’s long hair and pulled it back, causing a moan. Spot loved that sound. He kissed down Race’s body and heard him utter a few words.

“Cazzo, per favore non fermarti” ( fuck, please don’t stop )

Spot went harder. He finally understood some of the things Race said when they went at it.

Race flipped the switch. He liked to show Spot what he could do. He moved his lips up and down his boyfriend’s body, landing on his underwear. He guided his fingers around his waistband and pulled slowly—too slowly for Spot’s liking. Race was a tease, but everything came to a good ending, so the wait was worth it.

Race’s head bobbed up and down as Spot kept a hand in his boyfriend’s hair; tugging and pulling as he got closer and closer.

Without realizing, Spot mumbled out a breathy word.

“Fanculo” ( fuck )

Race stopped. He knew that word. Spot tugged on his hair, ushering him to keep going.

After they finished, Race couldn’t help but think about what happened.

Why would he say “fuck” in Italian rather than English? He never spoke Italian before?

Race pushed away the thoughts and just chose to believe Spot picked it up from listening to him.

Another few months passed and all Race could talk about was his parents visit. Spot knew he was running out of time, so he did something he didn’t want to do.

He got a tutor. And actual lessons with a teacher.

He seemed to know a lot of words but having a conversation proved tough. If he was going to pull this off, he needed a lot more help and fast.

He went to lessons every day. Easily using the excuse that he just took up more hours at work.

The lessons were a success and with help from proper teachers—on top of his duolingo work, reading Italian literature, and on the street practice—he was almost fluent in a little under a year. Of course it wasn’t perfect, but he could hold a proper conversation, and that’s what mattered.

“Today is the day, babe!” Race called out from their shared bedroom.

“I know, it’s been on the calendar for almost a year.”

They made their way to the airport and waited. Race was beaming with light and energy. He was so excited. Spot was still nervous.

Race noticed Spot’s nervousness and tried to reassure him, assuming his nerves were from meeting his parents as well as not knowing if they spoke English. That would be a proper reason for nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’m certain they’ll love you. And incase you’re wonder, which I know you are, they do speak English. Not the best, but enough. I’ll be right here to help with anything they can’t get”, Race said to Spot sweetly.

That’s not why Spot was nervous. He was nervous because he worked all this time for this moment. He didn’t know when or how he wanted to do it. Would he come out the gate speaking Italian? Would he wait until they did it first? Or would he just save it for a special moment?

Race saw his parents coming down the escalator and grabbed Spot’s hand, dragging him to the crowd of people. He ran so fast he though Spot’s arm would come off.

“Mamma! Papà!” ( Mom! Dad! )

“Antonio! Mio figlio!” ( Antonio! My child! )

He hugged his parents so tightly. Spot could feel the warmth of Race’s happiness. His smile showed pure goodness and made his eyes crinkle into almost nothing.

“Com'è stato il viaggio?” ( How was the trip? )

“Lungo. Hanno bisogno di più spazio su queste cose” ( Long. They need more space on these things )

Spot noticed Race seemed to get his talkative nature and liveliness from his mother. His father stood, searching the area for what they needed to do and what was coming next. Then his eyes landed on Spot.

“Chi è questo, Antonio?” ( Who is this, Antonio? )

“Papà, questo è il mio ragazzo, Sean” ( Dad, this is my boyfriend, Sean )

Spot felt his heart jump to his throat. He knew everything they were saying and was nervous for their responses.

His father was silent. It was agonizing.

“Lo ami?” ( You love him? )

“Molto. Più di chiunque altro prima. Voglio sposarlo, papà” ( Very much. More than anyone before. I want to marry him, dad )

Race paused and looked at Spot, then back at his parents and spoke again.

“Questa è una delle ragioni per cui ero così entusiasta che tu venissi, voglio la tua benedizione. Ho intenzione di proporre molto presto e volevo che tu fossi qui per quello.” ( That's one of the reasons I was so excited for you to come, I want your blessing. I plan on proposing very soon and I wanted you to be here for that. )

Race spoke very fast, it was hard for Spot to keep up. But he picked out the majority of the sentence. He couldn’t believe it. But honestly, it took them long enough. It’s been too many years to count.

“Lui sa?” ( He knows? ), Race’s mother spoke up.

“No. E anche lui non parla Italiano, quindi per favore prova il tuo meglio con l'inglese, ti aiuterò se ne hai bisogno” ( No. And he doesn't speak Italian either, so please try your best with English, I'll help you if you need it )

Race’s mom looked at Spot and smiled.

“Sean! My boy! Welcome to the family!” She said, her accent thick.

Spot finally decided to save what he knew.

Race’s family was very friendly. Spot saw where Race got it from. Before Spot could even answer he was being pulled into a hug.

They went back to their apartment to show his parents. They had a hotel room right down the block, but they still wanted to catch up with Race and see how he was doing.

Racer’s mom went straight for the kitchen, checking if they kept proper ingredients and spices around.

“Non preoccuparti mamma, Sean è un ottimo cuoco” ( Don’t worry mom, Sean’s a great cook )

They both laughed and Spot tried to hold it in, making sure to pretend like he didn’t know what they said.

A few nights later they planned a very nice dinner. Spot still hadn’t spoke any Italian but he had a plan. He was told to dress fancy and that they were going to a very important dinner.

Spot knew what this was. He put on one of Racer’s favorite outfits; a black suit with gold accents, a white button up, a small gold chain under the collar of his shirt, and a red pocket square.

He walked out of the bathroom looking incredibly handsome. He got to the living room and saw Race waiting for him.

Race wore Spot’s favorite suit outfit; a navy blue suit, a baby pink button up left unbuttoned at the top, and his hair tied back very sleek and clean.

They locked arms and walked out the door, picking up Race’s parents on their way to the restaurant.

Everyone was dressed to the nines. Race’s father in a nice black suit and his mother in a lovely pink gown. Unintentional matching never hurt anyone.

“You both look very good!” Race’s mother said upon seeing them.

At the restaurant they talked and ate and got to know each other more. Spot talked to Race’s parents, showing he was interested, cause he genuinely was.

Near the end, Race got nervous. He hid it well, but Spot knew him. Under the table Spot softly put his hand on Race’s thigh and gently rubbed it. Not sexually, just kindly. It always helped Racer calm down.

Race looked at his parents and softly said, “sono pronto” ( I’m ready )

Race stood up and looked at Spot.

He pulled a box out of his pocket and got on one knee. Even though Spot already knew this was coming, he was still in shock that it was actually happening.

“Spot. I love you so much. You know that. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t let you know in some way or another. I want the whole world to know that you mean everything to me. You are my everything. I’m sorry for waiting, but I wanted this to be special. I wanted my parents to see that they didn’t sacrifice for nothing. I found the most important thing I could find...love. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So...Sean Conlon...will you marry me?”

Race looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Sì, lo farò” ( Yes, I will )

Before Race could even react, Spot was pulling him into a kiss.

After all the celebrations, they sat back down at the table and toasted to champagne.

“So, how long have you known Italian?” Race asked, still very confused.

“About a year now...” Spot then explained the whole situation to Racer and his parents. They were all in shock and amazement.

“Sean Conlon, ti amo sempre di più ogni giorno” ( Sean Conlon, I love you more every day ) Race said, lovingly looking at his new fiancé.

“E non potrei essere più felice con nessun altro se non tu, Antonio Higgins...Voglio dire, guarda, ho imparato l'italiano! L'ho fatto per te, amore” ( And I could not be happier with anyone but you, Antonio Higgins...I mean, look, I learned Italian! I did it for you, my love ).

[cvteeds]

Afterglow

By minnesotamemelord on AO3

Richie refuses to cancel his shows. Partially because he does still need to get paid, but mostly because if he changes his life, if he lets the depression take him and pull him into the abyss... that means it's real. That means that Eddie's really gone and he's really not coming back.

He also refuses to cancel his TV appearances, which includes hosting the most popular late-night sketch comedy show in American history, and the one he got his start on as a cast member. Before he went to Derry, he had been excited for it. Before he went to Derry, he had been excited for a lot of things. Now, he couldn't even remember the sensation of excitement. He couldn't remember running ahead of the crowd to get to what he wanted. Now, there was only getting through it, and if he could do that, he'd survive.

The days seem to float by leading up to that Saturday night. He has meetings and rehearsals and publicity stunts and none of it matters. Not one bit. None of the other Losers call, but he didn't think they would. They're giving him space, and besides, they've all got their own things to figure out.

Saturday night comes, and Richie isn't nervous. He finds that since defeating It, nothing else can make him nervous. He stands backstage at the studio, hearing the familiar theme play and the cacophonous cheers of the audience. He's a little excited now. Not enough, but a little. He takes one last look in his dressing room mirror. His expression is tired, but when he plasters on a smile, he almost looks just like he used to. He has gotten a haircut, and he looks older. Less like a kid. He feels less like a kid. But that's not his job. His job is to make other people feel like kids.

"...along with your host, Richie Tozier!" The voiceover finishes just as Richie shakes himself from his stupor and pushes open the door of his dressing room, almost sprinting past producers and studio execs, taking a moment to compose himself before he walks onstage. There is a deafening roar and a flash of blinding light as he walks out, and it takes everything in him not to raise a hand to shield his eyes. He raises it to wave instead, flaunting a brilliant grin beneath his new glasses. He stops in the box on the middle of the stage and waits, breathing shakily, for the noise to stop. Eventually it does, and he smiles again.

"Hello, everyone. I'm so happy to be back here, and this time I'm hosting!" He whoops, letting the lights wash over him, wiping the slate clean. "No, really, it is great to be back. You know, since I left the show, I've gotten a lot of attention, which is great, and almost all of it's good, so..." He pumps his fist, timing it just right. He was not always so good at timing. "But even though I worked here for a long-ass time both in the cast and as a writer, people still tell me I'm just, like... not funny? Like, they'll come up to me after a show and just say, 'Hey, I didn't laugh at any of that. Can I still get a picture, though?' And a lot of my friends tell me that, too. I've got this one friend, and he..." Richie trails off, his eyes traveling up past the crowd and into the lights. They look just like the Deadlights, he notices. How did he not notice that earlier? In his near-excitement, he forgot all about his brief time in the Deadlights, and... and Eddie. He had been just about to mention Eddie. He snaps his eyes back out of the lights, blinking blurry purple circles away. He has to get back to the show. He can't break. He can't.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about my friend. He, um, literally never laughed at one of my jokes. We knew each other since we were eleven, and he didn't laugh at a single one." Richie has a memory of an eleven-year-old Eddie with a popsicle melting in his hand, offering one to Richie. "All my friends got kinda sick of my jokes back then. I wasn't nearly as funny then as I am now." He laughs self-indulgently, and then he is back in the lights, slipping away. He sees Eddie at eleven, at thirteen, at sixteen, at eighteen, at forty. He sees Eddie a hundred times, flashing before his eyes. He can't feel his mouth move, but it does, and he doesn't realize what he's done until he hears himself say, "And I loved him for it." That is all it takes to bring him back. He stumbles back, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone watching close in around him. He does not know what to do. He does not know what to say. And then, all at once, he does. And he says it.

"There's something I've needed to say for a very, very long time." Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. Richie straightens, closes his eyes, and takes a long, slow breath. When he speaks again, his voice is steady and even, and not quite his own. "And this wasn't planned, but I think this is maybe the best place to do it." His eyes open, and they are glowing gunmetal silver under the lights. "I'm gay." He is unsmiling, a word almost never used to describe him before Derry. The audience is utterly silent. They could be replaced by mannequins for all Richie knows. And then, there comes a burst of nervous laughter from somewhere to his left, someone who thinks maybe this is just a very odd set-up to a joke. But it wasn't. "I'm gay, and my best friend in the whole world, the one who never laughed at my jokes... he died. Last week. I was in love with him, and I never told him. That I loved him, or that I was even gay. And... when I say love, I don't mean I had a crush on him when we were kids and something got rekindled when we were adults. I mean I loved him. Really, truly loved him, in the way most people never even get, when we grew up together, now, and almost thirty years in between." Whispers begin to rise now, floating to Richie's ears, but he shuts them out. He is going now, snowballing, getting bigger and bigger and bigger. "I think that's why I'm telling you all now. Because he never got to hear it, and now, I owe it to him to tell someone. I loved him despite the fact that he never laughed at my jokes. I loved him because he never laughed at my jokes. I will always regret never saying anything." He looks down at the people in front of him now. Some are grumbling. Some are stunned. One or two, he notes, are even crying. He reaches up to adjust his glasses and realizes that he is too.

"I'm sorry, everyone," he says. "You didn't come here tonight to see a forty-year-old man cry over his first love. And you won't have to for much longer. I want to leave you with one piece of advice, something a very wise friend said to me. Be who you want to be. Be proud." He smiles, though he feels more like crying than ever, and walks off the stage the way he came to a totally stunned silence. He passes the same producers, the same studio execs, and ignores their cries of protest. He has said his piece. And perhaps his career as a comedian is over in this one blip. Would that really be the end of the world?

He exits out the back doors of the studio and ducks his head, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He passes a long line of people waiting to meet him, praying that they don't see him, and by some miracle, they don't. He thinks about hailing a cab, and then doesn't. It's a cool night, and he wants to walk.

This is Eddie's city, he realizes. No wonder he's been having visions and dreams of him ever since he arrived. How many times did Eddie walk these same sidewalks, bobbing and weaving to avoid accidental contact? How many times did he roll his eyes at the tourists, or hesitate before ordering bodega coffee, or step over a passed-out drunk on his way into his apartment?

He hardly makes it inside the doors of his hotel when he gets the first call. It is the first of many calls he will receive tonight, and the only one he will pick up. It's Bev. He settles into a leather armchair by the lobby fireplace and answers the phone.

"Hi, Bev-"

"Richie?" He can see her face just from her tone of voice and has to stifle a laugh at her wide eyes and open mouth. "Richie, I just saw the show-"

"Bev, slow down-"

"Why didn't you tell me? You could have told me-"

"Bev, please, go easy on him." This is Ben, muffled on the other line. Richie hears Beverly exhale, and when she speaks again, it's slower. Less frantic.

"Richie, that was... very brave of you."

"Thanks. It wasn't too disastrous?"

"No, we thought it was very... very you. And Richie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you." He blushes and feels another tear slide down his face.

"Thank you, Beverly. Do you think-"

"I think Eddie would be too. And, Rich, can I tell you something?"

"Shoot."

"...I don't know what it's worth, but I think Eddie loved you too." Richie chokes on his own breath and has to take a moment, coughing and pounding his chest. He has a vision of using a gray plastic HydrOx inhaler.

"It's worth everything, Bev. Look, I gotta go, but-"

"No worries, Richie. Call me if you need to talk."

"Bye, Rich."

"Bye, Haystack." The line clicks off. Richie leans back in his seat and looks around the lobby. It will not be long before the news of his dramatic exit becomes widespread. He doesn't dread the flood, though. He awaits it with open arms. "If Eds could see me now," he murmurs, warm relief settling in the pit of his stomach. And then, even quieter, with a genuine, melancholy smile: "Beep-beep, Richie."

[spookyrejects]

i have in fact wilded. notice how they go from barely descriptive to way too descriptive why am i like this .

harlem “harley” maddox. brenton thwaites. + PAIN KILLER, RUEL. twenty-six.

alright we are gonna try this with a soft boy who just wants good things to happen. going to be very timid and anxious maybe with a little stutter that flares up when he’s nervous. all the nervous ticks o my god he’s gonna be such a soft boy.

luciano . douglas booth. + NOVOCANE, THE UNLIKELY CANDIDATES. twenty five.

my SAD BOY who acts like he’s put together but he is genuinely not. he’s lived in texas his whole life and moved to boulder because his uncle passed and he took over the business. when he was 12 he nearly drowned which lead him to be terrified of water and had hallucinations of literal hell so he’s convinced he’s going to hell when he dies.

lesley york. abigail cowen. + PRETENDER, STEVE AOKI, AJR, LIL YACHTY. nineteen.

younger sister to noah york. was always the popular / pretty girl in school, with her brother’s sob story she was able to be seen as a saint always trying to tend to him. she became instagram famous her senior year of high school and everyone seemed to love her. that’s because she’s never been true to herself. rather molding to whatever or whoever anyone needed or wanted her to be. on the outside, she’s confident, a leader, an icon. but on the in she has no idea what she’s doing at any given moment. she moved out of her childhood home with her brother and shares a flat with him.

zade francis. bob morley. + I think i’m OKAY, MGK, TRAVIS BAKER, YUNGBLUD. thirty-two.

older brother of shane & boston francis. has been a hip hop artist since he was nineteen, not really making it big until about ten years ago. he has always been mixed in with the wrong people. big drug addict, has been shot and broken almost every bone in his body. no matter what he does, he always seems to pick the wrong choice. his life has constantly been an uphill battle from issues with his family in the public eye to rehab trip after rehab trip to try and get his image clean.  ( vc: mgk. )

vance shepard. robert sheehan. + 100 BAD DAYS, AJR. thirty.

i am just stealing finnick bc i loved finnick

finnick’s mother and father are both well established actors and for a majority of his life he was in the tabloids. then, he went missing when his parents sent him to live with his aunt. it was rumored for a long time that he died during the accident on set. while living with his aunt he endured emotional and physical abuse from her. this resulted in him being very twitchy at times and fear the woman. when he was sixteen he began to use narcotics to numb the pain. at eighteen he planned to leave his aunts house, having finished school and doing everything his parents asked he thought he would be able to join them in the states. only to find out they couldn’t take him, and he had to stay in ireland, claiming it ‘wasn’t the right time’ for a comeback. when he turned twenty-three he came out of the shadows on his own with a short flim he wrote and directed on his own life. it won an oscar. this was his peak, because after that he could not write or produce shit. he was under far too much pressure to make his parents proud. his drug addiction then got worse. when he turned twenty-six he nearly overdosed, only to be found by his parents. this is when he was sent back to live with his aunt. and despite how much older he was now he still fell into the old habits of being terrified of the woman. he continued to live with her desperately trying to get sober but hopelessly failing. every time he would relapse, she would kick him out of the house. now, three years later he has relapsed again but this time, he stole everything his aunt had and left town. using all of the money to pay his way into the manor. he does not plan on staying long. personality:despite being a very depressed person, he is extensively extroverted. he is very charismatic and can be protective and kind. with his drug addiction he can be very excitable and it’s when he doesn’t have drugs he falls back into his depression and it’s not a pretty sight.

heath williams. joe dempsey. + STUPID DEEP, JON BELLION. thirty-one.

cousin to james & noah williams. went into the army when he was eighteen because he comes from a line of soldiers. was raised in a slightly similar environment to james but his father was more cold in the sense he didn’t speak to him unless he was training. definitely raised to be the perfect soldier, but while in the war he lost his leg within the first year after stepping on a landmine and was sent home. his father, extremely disappointed in him, disowned him and his mother tried to take care of him for as long as she could. he soon moved into an apartment in the darker sides of town, kept to himself, works as a janitor in a hospital. 

noah york. sean berdy. + SAD FOREVER, LAUV. twenty one.

older brother to lesley york. lost his hearing when he was thirteen. his father took him to a gun range and he took out his ear plugs thinking to hear him only to have the gun go off and his hearing to be permanently affected. this lead him to fall into a bit of a depression in which he just let things happen to him. he didn’t go out of his way to get things for himself, rather waited for them to fall in his lap out of fear of failure. a year ago, though, he moved out of his childhood home into an apartment down town with his dramatically famous sister. meanwhile, he works in a floral shop.

maize perez. ana de armas. + BARBIE GIRL, AQUA. twenty nine.

celebrity rival to shane & boston francis. the original queen bee of hollywood, having been the most famous model and actress as of 2018. she started off as a young teen actor in a disney movie that really set her apart from the competition. another big reason she was so easy to make famous was because she became anyone her parents, and then manager, asked her to be. when she was twenty-one, though, she began to slip up and had a melt down in public, resulting in shaving her hair off and getting a tattoo of the logo of her first television show on her chest above her heart. this did not go over well, in fact, she was sent to a hospital where her managers and mother put her under a coma and spread rumors of disease. she remained in the coma for two weeks before she finally woke up and her lesson was learned. this was not her life. this wasn’t who she wants to be. but she has no control.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Episodic Patterns for Episodes 8, 9, & 10

Good morning, Everyone! How was your Thanksgiving. Mine was great! Lots of family, craziness, WAY too much pie. Good times! ;D 

Okay, so I’m first going to talk about the video released on the official YouTube channel that shows clips of Beth’s, Carl’s, and Deanna’s deaths after the 10x08 trailer. Because that’s what got me thinking about this. I said originally that showing Carl’s death along with Beth’s made perfect sense to me, but Deanna’s mystified me a bit.

Well, after hashing things out with my fellow theorists, I have much more to say. Actually, @wdway​ came up with these initial observations all by herself, so kudos to her for that. What she observed is 100% accurate and insightful, and led to me realize these other episodic patterns. So let’s go through these quickly.

There are some subtle parallels between Beth’s, Deanna’s, and Carl’s deaths. Mostly, it has to do with the way they’re set up in the MSF. In each case, the death is “announced” if you will in the MSF, and we’re kind of led to believe that they’ll die in that episode. Except that they don’t. They’re given another episode to kind of wrap things up.

So with Beth, this is obvious. At least to us TDers. We’re led to believe she died in the MSF, and we don’t think she did. But even setting the death fake out aside for a moment, even 5x09 is kind of a continuation of her death. We really shouldn’t have seen her at all after 5x08, but we did. 

Seeing her, even as part of Tyreese’s death hallucination, was a surprise. And we have other clues (like the group running to their cars) of other things that may have happened in the interim that we aren’t privy to. So the idea is that things might not have gone down in exactly the way we were led to believe based on the MSF.

Deanna’s is less dramatic. We knew she’d die one way or the other because she was bitten. She was given a gun to end her own life rather than be eaten. And we had clues that it wouldn’t go down that way (she opened the door, screamed at the walkers, and fired at them) but we didn’t’ know because we didn’t actually SEE her death. (Perhaps another Beth parallel.) 

Then, in 6x10, we do learn that things didn’t go according to plan. Because Deanna, as a reanimated walker, is stumbling around outside of Alexandria. So, she couldn’t have shot herself in the head. But she also wasn’t eaten by walkers. 

Something happened that helped her avoid being a meal, but also led to her reanimated self getting not only out of the room but outside the walls. What was it? We don’t know. And it’s probably not even very important because Deanna wasn’t a super main-stream character. 

But the point is, things didn’t go down the way the MSF finale led us to believe they would. And we have parallels to Beth’s death both in the mystery surrounding what happened with Deanna, and the fact that Spencer looked for her as a walker, which we also believe Daryl did with Beth.

Carl’s death is similar. We found out about his bite in the MSF and many people might have pegged that as his death episode. Yet, they gave him another episode with a much bigger send off to tie up all the loose ends. So things didn’t go down quite as people thought they would, based on the setup in the MSF.

There are other subtle parallels as well. I have to point out the gunshot-to-the-head theme that runs through these. The theme is present in all three, but what actually happens is different each time. Beth is shot in the head, but we believe it didn’t kill her. Deanna is supposed to shoot herself in the head, but doesn’t, and reanimates as a walker as a result. Carl actually does shoot himself in the head, and it kills him, and we see his burial/funeral.

There are other rabbit holes we could go down as well when it comes to the symbolic ties between these deaths. I’ll just mention a few things without actually going down them.

Carl is the one who sees walker-Deanna and leads her to Spencer so Spencer can put her down. He tells Michonne such things should be done by family or someone who loves the deceased person. That he would do it for her. You could see that as a foreshadow of Carl’s death. The way it’s presented, it almost seems like a foreshadow of Michonne’s death (“I’d do it for you,”) but it wasn’t. Carl said it and it was about him. A foreshadow that when he was bitten (like Deanna) Michonne would be there to make sure he got put down and didn’t reanimate as a walker.

But the thing is, this conversation takes place right after Carl says the thing to Baby Judith about using the North Star to find your way HOME. Saying that and then talking to Michonne about his death (not literally, of course) also entangles Carl’s death with Beth’s return.

See what I mean about the rabbit holes?

I also think it’s interesting that Michonne was involved in a big way in both Carl’s and Deanna’s deaths. Makes you wonder what her role in the missing 17 days after Coda was, doesn’t it? And what her role in Beth’s return will be.

But let’s switch gears just a bit, here. Thinking about all of this helped make a pattern clear in my mind about the structure of episode 8, 9, and 10 in each season. And I think you’ll all like this because it’s another, concrete way to point at episode 10 as possibly being when Beth returns.  

We all tend to think and say—me especially—that each season is divided into 16 episodes with two major arcs: the front half and back half. And while that’s true, it’s not quite that neat and tidy is it? The two arcs don’t consist of 1-8 and 9-16. Rather, the first arc tends to be 1-7. 8-9 is a shit-hits-the-fan mini-arc, 

and then the new arc for the back half starts in episode 10. Hence all those damn sunrises we see, yeah? ;D

I think my biggest takeaway here is that they never FINISH in episode 8 what they started in episode 8. They usually short it up in episode 9. We already talked about this with character deaths, but it’s true in a more general sense as well. Ep 10 starts the new arc, and, more often that not, it includes them finding a new group or community.

So I had to think through all the seasons. Or at least, all the ones since S4. Arguments can be made for 1-3, but I’ll stick to the ones after Gimple took over.

S4: So right off the bat, S4 was a little different. I think that’s mostly because they split into so many little groups and they had to show them all. But of course the big event in ep 8 was the prison going down, 

but ep 9 and 10 were continuations of that. Hence all the running. Again, I think this took 2 episodes because 9 was just about Rick/Michonne/Carl and then 10 covered Bethyl, Maggie/Sasha/Bob, and Glenn/Abraham/and co. They didn’t actually find a new community, but all of them started moving toward Terminus in one way or another.

S5: Obviously the shitstorm in ep 8 was Beth/Grady. And while it’s still a little unclear how ep 9 continues this, the biggest clue is that Beth was actually in episode 9, albeit as a hallucination. And it’s hard to pin down because it was so metaphorical and abstract, but the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. Ep 9 was about taking Noah home. That was to honor Beth’s wishes, and Noah came to the group courtesy of Beth/Grady anyway. So that episode really was an outgrowth or extension of the Grady arc. 

And it ends with a burial. Of course it was Ty’s, rather than Beth’s, but now, after all this time, I can see that it was meant to symbolize Beth’s as well. Not because she actually died or got a burial, but rather because, for all intents and purposes—both to the characters and to the audience—she was dead, and that was the end of that arc.

The new arc starts, of course, with Aaron showing up to bring them to a new community: Alexandria.

S6: This is a big one for me. I always said 6x09 would have made a WAY better MSF than 6x08. The big event was the church falling on the fence and letting walkers into Alexandria. (Yeah, I know it technically happened at the end of ep 7, but that was just for the cliffhanger effect. Ep 8 was them dealing with the horde.) 

And ep 8 left off right smack in the middle of the action. Daryl/Sasha/Abe were still facing Saviors on the road, Eugene was still calling for help on the radio, Rick and co held hands and moved into the horde, but things were far from solved. Maggie was still trapped on the scaffold. Glenn and Enid were still outside the walls. Then ep 9 comes along and all the great stuff happens. Daryl plays with a rocket, everyone returns to the Alexandria, Glenn and Maggie reunite after 8 episodes apart (end of death fakeout, by the way), Daryl stars the lake on fire, Carl shot, Jessie & sons eaten, and epic battle against walkers for Alexandria.

So my point is, they didn’t wrap things up until episode 9. New arc begins in ep 10 when they meet Jesus and go to Hilltop (new community).

S7: Much less drama in the middle of S7, but ep 8 ends on a confrontation with Negan and Rick deciding it’s time to fight back. It continues in ep 9 as they try to figure out exactly HOW to do that and where they’ll get the resources. 

New arc begins in ep 10 when they meet a new community (Scavengers) and the arc for the rest of the season focuses on building things up toward the war.

S8: We already talked about Carl’s death, which is definitely part of this pattern. In terms of plot, the big event was the bombing of Alexandria. 

But when it ended, it REALLY didn’t end. Carl didn’t die, everyone was still hiding in the sewer, and plenty of people were still running around in the woods in the dark, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It didn’t wrap up until ep 9, including Carl’s death and burial. I think the “new community” aspect in this season was Enid and Aaron going to ask Oceanside for help. So, not a new community, but they weren’t a part of the war yet, and there were TONS of Beth symbols around this arc, which is important.

S9: So I really wasn’t sure at first if they’d stuck to this pattern in S9, especially given that we know Andy left later than originally planned. I couldn’t even remember off the top of my head which episodes were which, and had to go look at them. Yeah, they totally kept to pattern. The big event was graveyard/Whisperers/Jesus’ death, 

which came from going to rescue Eugene. But you can tell they didn’t wrap it up until ep 9 because we didn’t see Jesus’ burial/funeral until ep 9. In terms of episode 10 and finding a new group, guess what episode 10 was? Omega, where Alpha shows up at the gates. So yeah, they totally pulled it off.

So what’s the point of all of this? Well, they’re following pattern this season. They started something in episode 8 (Daryl and co going to find the horde and look for Lydia) but it definitely didn’t finish. It ended in the middle of the action, much as it always does. So I’m fully expecting that they’ll solve that particular problem in ep 9, and if there are any character deaths, they will no doubt happen then. (No idea if any of the reports about Connie or someone falling off a cliff will prove true, but IF they do, it will be in episode 9 anyway, not 9).

As for them meeting a new community, which should happen in episode 10, we don’t REALLY know what it will be…except that they’ve been filming at Grady so we do. Whether it’s actually Grady or some other hospital, chances are it will be introduced in episode 10.

And the fact of the 10:10 clock on Beth’s wall, which episode will probably coincide with them finding this new community? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I think it’s safe to say that Gimple planned for this a LONG time ago.

 So yeah. Just wanted to point that out and hopefully it carries everyone through the hiatus and gets you excited for 10b. Thoughts?

[mintyvan]

B I T T E N  /  P A R T  T W O 

synopsis of the B I T T E N series When Ava wakes up, she’s stuck in the 18th century with strangers who can do even stranger things, and no recollection of her past life. As she learns to cope with what, and who, now surrounds her, she realizes there’s one thing so much bigger than the battle between life and death: love.

filling the requests “more bondy please!” + “you’re interested in both van and bondy” +  “you’re mad at bondy for whatever reason and how he would react, maybe you guys had a fight or something.” Changed the last one up a bit to fit the story - hope you don’t mind. If it’s not what you had in mind, message me and we can work something else out! x

warnings Mentions of lowkey kidnapping, swearing. Mentions of daddy, but I’m sure y’all are filthy enough to enjoy my jokes.

[read part 1 here]

_______________________________________________________________________

When Maise dressed Ava the next day, she did the same steps meticulously again: shift dress, petticoat, corset, pockets, petticoat, silk kerchief, gown petticoat, front panel, gown, apron. This time, the gown itself was a robin’s egg blue. And with nowhere for Ava to rush off to, Maise took her time, although she always worked with a fastidious hand. Ava looked around her room with wonder once again, the feeling not settling in yet that this was to be her permanent residence until further notice.

“Anywhere you want to go today, Miss?” Maise asked, dark hairs falling from her tidy bun onto her forehead as she bent to secure Ava’s shoes.

“You mean I can leave the house?”

“‘Course you can. You’d probably want to check with your master first, but --”

“My master?”

A knock at the door sounded just as Maise was affixing the final piece, the white embroidered cloth, to the crown of Ava’s head.

“Well that’ll be him now!” Maise exclaimed, more chipper than Ava could say for herself, whose mind was reeling with the words Maise had spoken.

Maise drifted to open the door, and Bondy’s fist was closed and mid-knock when she opened it.

“Hello love,” Bondy smiled at Ava, white pointy teeth evident against his cherry red lips. “Care for a house tour?”

Bondy led Ava down the hall, around the grand staircase, and into the dining room. He spoke confidently the whole way, as if he’d recited the stories he was telling her hundreds of times. She didn’t think he had, but his confidence was alluring nonetheless.

“This entire house was rebuilt by myself and a team of contractors after it burnt down in 1732. As Maise probably told you, she and her entire family of seven, mom, dad, brothers, sisters, everyone, died in the fire. For some reason, she and her brother are the only ones who attained ghost status. We’re still not sure why that is,” Bondy said thoughtfully, and paced through the door to the old-fashioned kitchen.

“Is that why you set the table for seven?” Ava called to him.

He poked his head through the doorway to the kitchen and laughed. “Partly for that, partly because seven of us now live here in the manor, and partly because it’s Van’s favorite number and he won’t have the table set any other way.”

“That’s a little…. strange… don’t you think?” Ava remarked.

“I’ve been telling him for years.” Bondy smiled down at Ava, who happily returned the smile. She was finding that Bondy was easy to get along with. When he popped back through the doorway, she followed, eager to hear more about the old house she now lived in.

“Here’s the kitchen. Lovely little space. Antique! We don’t use it much, except for when Jack cooks meals for us, like he did last night. Thankful the bugger didn’t lose his skills in death.”

“A helpful poltergeist?”

Bondy snorted. “I like you.” He switched his gaze back to the kitchen. “In this cupboard you’ll find some snacks to eat. It’s full of all kinds of foods, from all different places of the world. But don’t eat anything from a jar. Seriously. My friend Lou likes to fuck with the jams.”

Ava walked around, picking foreign utensils up and surveying the rest of the area as Bondy waited for her to finish perusing.

“This is a special room,” Bondy said softly, knocking his knuckles absentmindedly against the aged wood door. He looked about the rest of the kitchen and its old wrought iron fixtures, and settled his eyes on Ava. “You aren’t allowed to go in here yet, but you will someday.”

“What is it?”

“The cellar. It’s where we keep our….. valuables.”

“Oh.” Ava’s mouth watered at the thought of what kinds of treasure could lie beneath the old house.

“It was the only part of the original house that remained. It’s enchanted by us, but originally it held a large store of energy for the owners. Want to hear my two cents? Maise and her brother were the only ones who became ghosts. But they were also the only two who were unfortunately locked in the cellar at the time of the fire.”

Ava’s heart dropped as her eyes stared beyond the cellar door. Maise and Jack died in that room beneath the earth.

“Don’t get too morbid on her first day, christ,” a short, squat man said as he walked through the kitchen doorway and grabbed a roll of bread from the reed basket on the countertop, ignoring Ava’s surprised sqeak and jump at the sound of someone behind her.

“Larry, lad, let me do my thing, I’ve got to set the scene for her,” Bondy joked.

“You don’t think the scene’s already set? She’s livin’ in a junky old prepster’s house with a bunch of freaks three hundred years before she’s even s’posed to be alive. It’s dark literally everywhere and she knows we bite.”

Ava gulped, and spoke up. “He’s kind of right.”

Larry looked at Bondy with an I-told-you-so smirk, and walked back out to who-knows-where with his bread, gone as quickly as he’d came.

“So that was Larry. I guess I’d better show you the rest of the house, and then we can get going? I’ve got to run a few errands in town. You can come if you’d like,” Bondy stated, chewing on his lip afterward in waiting for an answer. Ava noticed he gave her a choice this time. Perhaps speaking her mind in this household didn’t come with repercussions. In this state, Bondy looked almost… endearing.

“I like the sound of that,” she said, and gave him a bashful smile.

After they ascended the grand staircase to the floor Ava’s room was on, and as she stood panting at the top in all her layers of clothing, Bondy chuckled.

“Whew. That was a lot of stairs,” Ava huffed, wiping the sweat from her brow. “How did I get up those so quickly yesterday?”

“Technically, we just went up two flights of stairs in one. We’re on the third floor now. Oh, and you might notice your strength ebbing and flowing while you’re here. Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

Ava trudged after Bondy, the buckled boots starting to rub the backs of her sweaty feet. She was so focused on the floor and her steps that when Bondy stopped to unlock a door at one end of the hall, she smacked right into his back.

“Sorry!” she said, stepping back, cheeks reddening. He shook his head with a fond grin, and twisted the key in the lock.

Bondy’s room was the most lavish room she’d ever seen. Once, she’d been on a school trip to Versailles, and she’d caught tiny glimpses of the king’s quarters behind red velvet ropes and security guards. This time, she was living the reality, and up close.

Gold.

It adorned the ceilings, the chairs, the chaise lounge, the chandelier, even the clock had gold leaf accenting. She’d seen Rococo in paintings before --- that bright cobalt paired with white trim and gold, gold, everywhere --- but she realized now why the royals took to it so easily. Everything gleamed. Astonished, her eyes feasted on the sight before her.

“There’s no way this is real,” she said, full of awe, mouth agape as she swirled around in place, skirts swishing beneath her.

“Did you expect anything less?” he asked quietly, watching her reaction. His low voice resonated across the smooth floors.

“I don’t know you that well, but… I guess not.”

Bondy winked, and opened the door to his actual bedroom. The fireplace near his bed was marbled, his bed frame was gilded, the furniture still covered in gold, and a literal suit of armor complete with chain metal was stood proudly in the corner.

Ava pointed at it expectantly.

“What can I say? I’m a collector,” he laughed.

“Uh-huh,” Ava snickered, eyebrows rising. She followed Bondy back out into the hallway from which they’d come.

“As you can see, the hallway wraps around in a square. Can’t ever get lost. You, Bob, Benji, and myself have the corner rooms. Van’s situated in between you an’ me, Larry’s situated in between me an’ Bob. There are four other empty rooms in the house that we use for storage, and stuff. Although this is the fullest this house has ever been, since the original owners had it.”

Ava knew the house was big, but ten rooms? Who could ever need a house that big? And for what purpose? Her thoughts raced as Bondy filled her in on unimportant mechanics -- “and here’s the guest bathroom” -- and she remembered Van’s room was next to hers. It must have been easy for him to deliver the letter last night. Her heart swelled.

“That’s about it,” Bondy said, snapping Ava out of her thoughts. “Want to go into town?”

******

The walk down the impossibly narrow cobblestone streets, wherein only three to four of Ava dressed up in skirts could walk arm in arm, was troublesome. Ava wasn’t getting used to her boots, and needed to walk slower than she usually did. Not that she remembered how she walked before she woke up in a different century; she could just feel that it was dissimilar. The change in her comfort led to a change in her attitude, and topic of conversation.

“Earlier today Maise told me that you’re my master,” she questioned Bondy, trying to walk dignified next to him as they passed citizens of 1739 France on the roads. She could tell they were dressed much less lavishly than she and Bondy were.

“So it would seem,” he replied casually, eyes squinting in the sunlight, looking for something.

“But why? Stop speaking ambiguously. I want to know why I’m here,” Ava huffed, kicking a loose stone across the street, which earned her looks from passersby.

“I bit you.”

“Yeah, got that part down. The marks in my neck? Pretty deep, I’d say. Vampire bite? It’s the latest trend,” she replied snarkily.

“Blix.”

“Okay, blix, whatever. So what’s going on? Does that just make me your slave? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Bondy guffawed, head cast up to the sky in laughter. The sound made her cheeks burn in the best way. He turned to Ava, and smiled. “Here’s some terminology for ya. Because I bit you, I’m your sire. You’re sired to me forever by my bite. Maise uses the word master. But she’s the maid. It’s just…. different dynamics as a whole. And by the way,” he stopped to tap on Ava’s nose. “The reason that we’re here in the first place: we’re looking for a shop called Violet’s Dresser. Help me find it, lassy.”

*****

The shop was quaint, to say the least. Vintage knick knacks of all kinds littered the shelves, but in a classy sort of way that made you understand that if you broke it, you bought it. And the price wouldn’t be pretty.

“Violet, I’m the one who sent a telegram the other day,” Bondy spoke at the counter to the large woman in a giant feather hat. “I’m here for a fitting for my fiancee, Ava.”

Ava’s eyes bugged out of her head, but Bondy gave her a sharp Just go along with it! look. She supposed he had to do things this way. After all, it was 18th century Paris. Why else would a dashing young man be buying exuberant gowns? Certainly not because he’s keeping a girl he bit on the neck, captive.

Violet circled the counter and disappeared through a set of heavy curtains.

“Come into the dressing lounge, you darling thing. You’ve got a certain je ne ses quoi about you, you know that?” the rounded dressmaker whooped from the other room. Bondy nudged Ava to go on with an encouraging look.

Once she parted the aptly violet curtains into the dressing lounge, she came face to face with a team of seamstresses. They immediately stripped her of each layer down to her corset, petticoat, and cotton shift.

“Little Johnny’s spoken nonstop of you since he knew you’d be arriving. How long have you been here, dear?” the dressmaker asked huskily. She pulled a velvet dress bag from a hook and untied the gold ribbon holding the bag closed. The seamstresses worked to pull the new garments over Ava’s head quickly.

“Uh, just two days so far,” Ava stuttered. She hoped for her sake that answer would line up with Bondy’s story. The approving harrumph she received from the dressmaker made her sigh in relief.

The seamstresses worked in tandem, suiting Ava up in a whole new outfit; the petticoats for this gown were of the finest white linen. The gown itself was a brilliant crimson silk encrusted with thousands of jewels on the bodice. The apron was gold, along with an underlying petticoat. Ava had never tried on anything more glitzy. Or expensive.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Violet asked her. She nodded her head up and down, mouth gawking at the sight in the mirror.

“What’s this gown for?” Ava asked the dressmaker.

“You’ll soon find out,” she smirked, and lit a cigarette.

“Okay then,” Ava muttered under her breath.

“I’m sure Johnny’s loving the attention he’s getting from you, sweety. He was a lonely young man before he met you. Never smiled. Now look at him!” she poked her cane through the curtains and parted them slightly so Ava and she could peek through.

“He does look happy,” Ava replied, watching Bondy look around the room of knick knacks with an inkling of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but he looked content.

The curtains fell back into place, and Violet snapped her fingers. The seamstresses began undressing Ava as quickly as they’d dressed her.

“Surprisingly enough, he got her measurements perfectly correct,” the seamstress whispered to Violet.

“And that’s a man who loves his woman,” Violet howled with laughter. Ava’s cheeks flushed unintentionally.

Redressed and out in the main shop, Ava couldn’t meet Bondy’s eyes.

“Fits like a dream!” Violet stated, and Bondy stepped toward the counter to pay for it. One of the seamstresses brought out the large box, and Violet stamped it with the address of the manor.

“Delivery by tonight,” she winked at Ava, and went to put Bondy’s money away. “Threw in a little something extra for ya, doll!”

*****

“So what you’re saying is,” Ava clarified as she followed Bondy’s footfalls through the cobbled streets, “is that I’m something called sired to you? And that means we’re forever bound together by that energy?”

“Exactly.”

“But why’d you bite me?” she inquired.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well obviously I’m not leaving for a while.”

Bondy pivoted on his heel and stopped her from walking forward any farther. He took both Ava’s hands in his, and the serious gesture took her by surprise. She looked into his baby blue eyes and shivered.

“Usually when a blix bites, for sire purposes… well…” He trailed off, unable to continue. His eyes searched Ava’s. “Let me explain it to you this way. When a wolf sires a cub, it means it’s the cub’s father.”

“Bondy, I am not calling you Daddy.”

“Let me finish! Christ, you’re hilarious,” Bondy snickered, not letting the crude joke go unnoticed. “Like I was saying… when a blix bites and doesn’t kill, it’s a forever bond. You… change. And our bond ties us together forever.”

Ava stood flabbergasted. “Wait, are we ---? Am I actually going to become one of you? Like in the movies?” she trailed off in shock. Her hands began to shake.

“Ava, look. It’s already started. Your eyes are the color of your dress.”

Ava looked down at the blue of her dress, and drew in a deep breath. She saw a shallow well near a cart of flowers and raced to look at her reflection.

“Ava, wait --” he called out behind her.

Despite the ruddy water, and the ripples from the wind, she could still see herself looking down into the water. As she peered closer, she saw it: chocolate brown had brightened to a striking icy blue. The same color the others in the manor had. Her breath hitched. Bondy’s footsteps stopped a ways away from her.

There hadn’t been any confirmation of their existence as monsters yet. Yesterday the bite on her neck was almost funny. It didn’t hurt. It was a joke. Maise concealed it before they went out in the street today. In the back of her mind, she’d been hoping this was a twisted dream. The reality hadn’t set in yet. It couldn’t.

But there she was. Changed. Concretely. Blue-eyed.

Her face looked wrong. And she hated it.

She touched her cheeks beneath her eyes and hated them. She stared deep into her foreign eyes. She couldn’t look away. She was disgusted.

“I’m really changing,” she whispered. A sob caught in her throat. “I--”

She felt herself losing control. Her thoughts raced blindly behind her eyes, and her mouth dropped farther and farther open.

I’m a lectoblix.

A monster.

I kill people to stay alive.

I’m living in a house full of monsters who can kill me.

I’m changing.

I’m stuck with a monster for the rest of my life.

I’m stuck being a monster for the rest of my life.

I don’t even know who I was.

They changed me.

And now I’m changing again.

Her mind went blank with panic.

She sat there, on the edge of the well, for too long, soaking the edge of her skirts in the water, not caring about the water damage to the blue silk. She numbly watched the way her silent tears shimmered against the new blue of her eyes, and down her cheeks, tracking through the powder Maise applied earlier. It was all too real now.

Motion behind her made her turn slightly, like a caged animal. But she didn’t care enough to turn all the way around. Her body was numb. No turning back.

A bouquet of red roses was placed by her knees resting on the edge of the well.

Only then did she turn fully. And there he was, standing in shame with a receipt from the flower cart.

“I made a mistake,” Bondy’s face crinkled, with enough frustration to shatter Ava all over again. “Fuck. I’ll take you home.”

******

Ava sat in her room, alone, writing on the expensive stationery supplied in her desk. Shortly after they’d come home, and Bob had seen her waterlogged skirts and tear-tracked cheeks and pulled Bondy aside, calling for Maise.

Ava had been taken upstairs, flowers placed in a vase, and bathed in steaming hot water until it was cold. Now, she sat, pen in hand, wondering how to begin.

I am Ava.

She wrote. She couldn’t remember her last name.

“Ooh!” she exclaimed, and put the pen to the paper once more.

I like to dance. I like cheese pizza. 

I can’t remember any of my family. Or do I even have one? Every time I try to remember something, it’s like a wall is put up. 

She sat, pensieve.

I tried on a red dress today. It was incredibly beautiful. It was like wearing the Crown Jewels, but on my body. The dress is supposed to arrive tonight. Bondy paid for it. I don’t know why he’s spending all of his money on me.

She scrunched up her nose as she remembered the rest of the afternoon.

“Ava! There’s a package for you downstairs!” Maise’s voice called from the walls of the mansion. Ava liked that her voice could travel without her having to materialize in front of her.  She put her pen to the paper once more.

But Bondy and Van are of similar kind. They can’t be too bad... right?

Ava slipped her silk robe on over her shift dress and tied it tightly. The house was cold; she’d have to make her trip downstairs quick.

Jack was already halfway up the stairs with the large box by the time Ava reached the landing.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said happily, and he followed her into her room, placing the box on her bed. He pretended to tip his nonexistent hat and exited.

Ava removed the top of the box, and sighed. The crimson dress was folded impeccably neatly inside. She caressed her hand over it, and decided to lie it flat on the bed. She read the card inside:

To Ava soon-to-be-Bond

From Violet

Hope you enjoy this dress, babydoll! You’re worth every penny it cost him.

P.S. - Wasn’t joking about the surprise.

Ava rummaged through the fluff and tulle of the box, and her hand hit something silky soft, yet hard. She pulled out the garment and gasped.

A crimson red corset, matching the dress, stitched with intertwined gold and black thread. Ava held it up in front of her face, and said, “Oh, baby. That’s hot.”

A low whistle coming from the hall interrupted her admiration for the thing, and she quickly stuffed it back into the box before the offender could see any more of it. Her heart pounded as she realized who was there.

Van stood with a shit-eating grin on his face: guilty, but nevertheless pleased. Ava’s stomach pulled again, and she tried to play it cool.

“Where ya goin’ with that thing?” he laughed, leaning into the door jamb, as casual as ever.

“I have no idea,” Ava whispered, not believing she just pulled that out of the box. In front of him.

“It’s right gorgeous, I say,” he said, resting his hands in his pockets. “You should wear it some time for the lucky fellow.” Ava’s heart quickened, her cheeks beet red.

Van was wearing 21st century clothes: black leather jacket and black denim. “Anyways - came to tell ya we have a meeting at nine. Meet us on the second story. You can dress normally. We’ve enchanted the place for the night with a distractor spell so no stragglers’ll come and ruin it all for us.”

“How do you get to the second story?” Ava said just as he was about to usurp himself from the comfort of the door jamb.

“Oh. Bond didn’t show ya the best parts on the house tour I see? Hmm. I can walk you there? Meet us here at 8:55,” he smiled happily.

“Sounds good.”  

“Okay.” He drug out the O sound, and the short kay! echoed down the hall with him.

******

“What is this place?” she asked Van as they tucked themselves down a secret door under the staircase; it hid behind a painting of Louis the Beloved. Ava knew it wasn’t classified as sneaking around when she had a destination, but it was new, and fun, and she was exploring.

“The second floor, love.” Ava’s heart fluttered at the sound of that.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you ran an operation,” she chuckled.

“I’m a simple guy,” Van said, tongue between his teeth in jest. “I mean what I say.”

“Good to know,” Ava flirted back. She couldn’t help it. She felt that she and Van had clicked from the moment they’d laid eyes on each other.

“Van, how do you know where you’re going? It’s pitch black,” Ava noted. She was able to ascend the flight of stairs before the painting swung shut, but now the halls were swathed in complete darkness.

“Got that good eyesight. Blix stuff,” he replied. Ava shivered. 

Her hand brushed up against something and immediately felt a piercing shock run through it, searing her hand with burning pain that made her cry out loudly in a harrowing shriek.

“What the fuck was that?” she yelled at Van, clutching her hand. It was hot to the touch. They both stood stock still in the hallway. Ava’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness as adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she saw Van’s eyes mirroring her own in confusion.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, scratching the back of his neck. “Just tried to grab your hand to lead the way.” Ava’s slight panting mixed with Van’s nervous breathing in the narrow space.

“I still can barely see…” she said, voice wavering. “And my hand hurts.”

“Hold on... I want to try something,” he said softly. “If it does it again, just... yell.”

Van reached forward slowly and touched Ava’s hand with the most delicate of caresses. Electricity zinged between their fingers and buzzed in their veins. Ava let out a shaky breath. Van’s touch became harder as he laced Ava’s fingers with his. Their eyes never left each other. Ava could feel Van’s cool breath fanning over her face.

“This is weird,” Ava whispered.

“I know,” he responded in a similar tone. “Glad I didn’t shock you again.”

“Why did that happen?” Ava looked up at him, desperate for answers, desperate to feel the reverb of his voice resonate through her body again. It was..... good.

“Guess since you’re sired to Bond, no one else gets to touch you,” he whispered. “Let’s go. They’re expecting us.”

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

All I Ask

Sam Wilson x Reader

A/N: This was supposed to be posted for 600 followers, but then I hit 700 faster than I ever dreamed!! WOOHOO! In honor of my followers, I decided I was going to rip your hearts out with an angsty fic! Sorry, Loves, but I enjoy your pain LOL

(BTW this is unedited, because I have to hurry up and leave my house!)

Song: All I Ask by Adele

Warnings: Angst, smuttttt??, more angst, etc.

 MASTERLIST

 Your heart hurt.

Your best friend of five years – the one who you could go to for anything, the one who was there any time you were feeling down, the one who you were friends with before he became a big Avenger, the one who came to you if he was in a bad place after his missions…

Your best friend didn’t love you, back.

You didn’t mean to tell him that you loved him, that night. You honestly didn’t. You were just so fed up with your feelings, that it just slipped out. Then, everything else came pouring out like word-vomit.

You didn’t mean to tell him that you had fallen in love with him an entire year before you started sleeping together, or how your feelings strengthened every time he would ring your doorbell. You didn’t mean to tell him that you were in agony every time he went out on a mission with the stupid Avengers, worrying about his safety. You didn’t mean to confess how you hated when he would sleep with you, then flirt with other women the next day. You didn’t mean to confess everything you had bottled up the past 2 years of sleeping together.

When you had finished completely pouring your heart out to him, you watched his face remain stoic as he didn’t say a word. He just turned away, walking out the door. You hadn’t expected him to love you back, but you certainly didn’t expect him to stop talking to you, altogether.

He didn’t even give you an explanation.

I will leave my heart at the door / I won't say a word / They've all been said before, you know…

Three weeks.

He still hadn’t talked to you after three weeks. You only knew what he was up to through the news. Something about a mission gone wrong in Lagos? You tried to text him and as if everyone was okay… No response.

You didn’t think you’d get one anyways.

You’d seen him once, after your confession, at your favorite coffee shop. You hadn’t been paying attention while in line, and had been replying to work emails on your phone when you heard Sam’s infectious laugh come from one of the tables off to the side.

You’d stopped, frozen on the spot with your heart in your throat. The beautiful sound cut even deeper into the hole in your heart, and you could feel the heartbreak all over again when you realized that you were the only one suffering. You were the only one who was broken up about not seeing your best friend, anymore. You were the only one who missed being able to talk to each other about anything and everything.

You were the problem.

Steve had spotted you, first, bumping Sam and nodding in your direction. You heard him ask why he hadn’t seen you around, lately.

The moment you locked eyes with his dark, chocolate eyes…

…You turned and sped out of the shop.

You’d be damned if he got to see you cry.

So why don't we just play pretend / Like we're not scared of what's coming next / Or scared of having nothing left…

Ding!

Was that your doorbell?

You looked at the clock on your stove. It was 11:30 at night… who the hell was at your door at this time of night? You were in your pajamas, for fuckssake.

You set your pen down – having been doing your paperwork for your job as an assistant – and grabbed your baseball bat from the wall by the table. A single girl in the city can’t be too careful. You slowly made your way through the living room, and to the front door of your apartment – peeking through the peep hole.

Sam?

You set your bat down behind the door, unlocking it and throwing it open in shock. “Sam? What are you doing here?” Don’t cry, don’t cry…

“I needed to talk to you.” He stared at his feet, hands in his pockets of his jacket, “Can I come in?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you moved aside, letting him through and shutting the door quickly. Your stomach dropped in anxiety, but you ushered him over to your couch – sitting on the opposite side, as far from him as you could. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you, again.” You looked down at your hands, wishing you could crawl in a hole and die – instead of hearing him confirm that he didn’t love you like you loved him.

His frowning face dropped in shame, “I’m sorry…”

You pulled your legs up to your chest, picking your nails in anxiety, “Even though I meant everything I said, I’m sorry I kind of laid it all on you at once. I just couldn’t take it, anymore.”

He sighed, shaking his head, “I can’t be in a relationship. Especially, now.”

You frowned, “What do you mean, ‘especially now’?” You sat up a little more, noticing the tension coming from him in waves, “What’s going on?”

“I’m about to become a criminal.” He looked up, dark eyes meeting yours, “I’m not signing the Sokovian Accords. I can’t.”

I don't need your honesty / It's already in your eyes / And I'm sure my eyes, they speak for me / No one knows me like you do / And since you're the only one that matters / Tell me who do I run to?

He told you everything.

He told you about how the mission went in Lagos, Rumlow’s appearance and death, the disagreement between the Avengers, the kid that had died in Sokovia, and how he was going to Peggy Carter’s funeral with Steve in the morning.

You didn’t know how to process this. You were scared for him. Sam was about to become a criminal, for doing what he thought was right. He was never going to have a normal life, again. “So, why come to me? What brought you here? I didn’t think you wanted to see me, anymore, after you left.”

He swallowed, thickly, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling, “I didn’t know who else to talk to. You’re my best friend, and I miss you. You’re the only one who tells me shit like it is.” He ran his hands over his short hair in frustration, “I just needed something normal, before my life literally goes to shit. I could go to prison, Y/n.”

You rubbed your temples for a moment, pushing down your feelings, “Alright. I’m sorry. I miss you, too. We can be normal.” You scooted closer to him, feeling his familiar warmth, and smelling his cologne that you’d gotten him for his birthday a few months prior. “I recorded Game of Thrones. Want to watch? I have beer in the fridge.”

He sagged in relief, nodding.

You stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen to grab the beer that you hadn’t touched since he left that night. It was his favorite brand, and you’d always made sure to have it handy. You were more of a wine person, but you didn’t mind drinking beer every once in a while.

You mostly liked the taste of beer when it was on his lips…

Shut the fuck up, Y/n.

You grabbed the 12 pack, and a bag of Cheetos – taking a steadying breath and walking into the living room with a smile. “Beer and snacks.”

He smiled that toothy smile, eyes crinkling in the corners, even though the smile didn’t make his eyes shine like they usually did, “I pulled up the episode.” He popped open two beers – handing you one, and chugging almost half of his. He pulled you into his warm side, cuddling on the couch like you always did.

You took a deep breath, leaning your head against his shoulder and pulling your legs up. You could be normal. You should really talk about how this is going to affect your friendship… He could go to prison. He won’t be able to talk to you, anymore. “Hey, Sam? So… If you’re, uh, going to become a criminal… Are we going to have to end our friendship?”

He sighed in annoyance, “I thought we were going to be normal, tonight?”

You scoffed, getting up and pausing the show, “I’m sorry if I can’t be ‘normal’ when you come to my house to tell me that you’re going to become a criminal and this is probably the last night we’re ever going to be together!” You start pacing around your living room, “I, also, can’t be ‘normal’ when I lay my heart out, just for you to fucking stomp all over it!” You turn to him, tears in your eyes, “What the fuck, Sam? Even if you don’t feel the same way, at least have the fucking decency to fucking tell me, instead of ghosting me! I thought we were best friends?”

“Who said I don’t feel the same way?”

“Five years of friendship, and you fucking ghost me when shit gets hard! I deserve better than-” You paused, frozen on the spot. “Wait, what?”

He stood up, crossing his arms in that ‘serious stance’ of his. The one that made his thighs look even better than usual. “Who said that I don’t feel the same way?”

You stared at him, eyes searching for any sort of lie. “B-but… Then, why did you ignore me? Why did you leave?”

His shoulders sag, and his arms fall to his sides. He looked defeated, “Because I knew that if I let you in, like that, something would happen to tear us apart.” He looked up at the ceiling, and you could see him swallow, from the bob of his adam’s apple. “Look where we are, now. I have to say goodbye to you, and I don’t know how. I don’t want to leave you, but I have to. I can’t drag you down with me.” His dark, shining eyes meet yours. “I love you.”

A sob makes its way to your throat, and you cover your mouth with your hand. A tear escapes from your eye, leaving a hot trail down your cold cheek. “Y-you do?”

He lets out a breath, taking a step forward and wrapping you in his arms, burying his face into your hair. “I do. I love you.” He inhales your scent, tightening his arms around you as you lay your forehead against his collarbones, “That doesn’t change anything, though.”

You pulled back a little, looking up at his heartbroken face with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I still have to leave in the morning.”

Look, don't get me wrong / I know there is no tomorrow / All I ask is / If this is my last night with you / Hold me like I'm more than just a friend…

You shook your head, denial running through you. “I don’t care. I love you. Just let me have tonight. Tonight’s all I ask.” You move your arms, circling them around his neck and standing on your tip toes. You pressed a small kiss to his stubble covered jaw, next to his goatee, moving down to his smooth neck.

“Y/n.” He sighs, half in pleasure, half in hesitation. “Are you sure we should b-be doing this? I didn’t come here for this.” His head moved to the side as you sucked on the sweet spot below his ear, hands moving to your hips, “I s-still have to leave no matter what.”

You removed your lips, pressing your forehead against his neck, “If this is my last night with you, let’s make it a good one.” You pulled back a little, staring at his lips. “I love you, Sam.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a breathtaking kiss. You felt your heart warm, starting to race as you tightened your arms around his neck. His hands tightened, picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling yourself as close as you could, elbows resting on his broad shoulders.

His tongue swiped your lower lip, gently seeking entrance. You granted him access, tongues fighting for dominance as he carried you towards your bedroom – knowing how to get there with his eyes closed.

He stopped for a moment, pushing you against the wall in your hallway, breaking from the kiss to breathe. He moved his lips to your neck, sucking a mark into the spot that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hips pinned you to the wall as he grabbed the hem of your tank top, pulling it over your head and tossing it behind him – leaving you in your pajama shorts. Your back arched into him, bare breasts pressed against his solid form, and he moved to the other side of your neck – marking you there, too. You tried to grab his tee shirt, but he grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the wall behind you, roughly. He ground his hips into yours, sending a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You breathed out a small moan, digging your feet into the backs of his thighs, trying to gain more friction.

When he finished his assault on your neck, his hot mouth started a descent toward your collarbones, leaving a small cold spot in its wake – leaving you breathless. Your moans grew louder in volume as he continued lower – sucking a mark on the mound of your left breast.

“S-sam.” A wanton moan escaped your swollen lips. A surge of heat shot straight to your clit as his lips closed around your hardened nipple, and you strained against his hands – still pinning your wrists to the wall. “B-bed.”

With one last nip, his hands released your wrists – gripping your ass. He gave your flesh a playful squeeze, making you jump and chuckle as he continued walking toward your room. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his pulse-point, feeling the fast thumping – excitement running through you. You gave him a little nip, causing his hands to tighten, and soothed the bite with a kiss.

Suddenly, you were falling backwards. You bounced a little as your back hit the mattress, and leaned up on your elbows to watch Sam remove his shirt. You bit your lip in anticipation watched as his smooth, dark skin moved over his hard muscles. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as he stared down at you, licking his lips like you were a snack to be devoured.

You sat up, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his jeans and pulling him closer. Unhooking his belt, you stared at the bulge in his jeans – feeling your teeth redden your lip further as you imagined the feel of him inside you.

Yanking his pants and boxers down in one go, you were immediately faced with his hardened member. Leaning forward, slowly, you pressed your lips against the tip, tasting the salt of the pre-cum leaking from it. You gripped him with one hand, the other gripping his hip. You swirled your tongue around the tip once, opening up your jaw and taking him in as far as you could take him.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He moaned out, hands burying themselves in your hair. You committed the taste and feel of him to memory, not wanting this to end, but he had other ideas.

He pulled you back after a few minutes, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to your lips, before pushing you back down onto the mattress. He moved his lips down to your neck, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties – slowly removing them. The lower your shorts got, the lower his mouth got, and you arched against him.

When he was kneeling at the edge of the bed, pulling your shorts and panties from your ankles, he suddenly gripped your calves – yanking you towards the edge of the bed. You yelped, a giggle following quickly after. His hands moved your legs to his shoulders, and his lips pressed against your inner thighs, sending a pulse against your core.

“You taste so good.” He whispered against your thigh, full lips sucking a small mark. “I know where you taste even better.”

His eyes had that devilish gleam in them as he continued on his torturous path towards your core. You were practically panting, hands gripping the sheets.

Suddenly, his mouth made contact, sucking right on your bundle of nerves. You gasped, loudly, a moan following quickly as he set a torturous pace. He spread your legs further, pinning them against the bed as his tongue licked a thick, hot stripe up your slit.

Your hands were about to rip your sheets, and you felt the rubber band in your stomach tighten – getting thinner and thinner, as his hot, wet mouth worked over your core. Your breathing became erratic, your moans louder, and your head was becoming foggy. You moaned his name like a prayer.

When the rubber band in your stomach snapped, you came – hard. The pulsing of your walls caused a rush from your head to your toes, and you felt your breath get stuck in your throat. You strained against his hands as he continued to work on you while the throbbing between your legs was so intense that you saw stars.

As you started to come down, body still hot from your high, he moved from his position, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up.

He smirked when he looked down at your spent state, “Are you sure you can handle round two?”

“Shut up and fuck me, Wilson.” You panted, smiling as you scooted further on the bed.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He crawled over you, lips finding yours quickly. You kissed him with as much emotion as you could, trying to show him the feelings that you had bottled up in the passing years. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you could as he held himself above you. You moaned into the kiss as you felt the tip of him brush against your sensitive clit, him lubing himself up with your juices.

“You ready?” His breath washed over your face, the tip of him pressed against your entrance.

You wrapped your legs around his lower half, using the heels of your ankles to push his hips. He slowly moved forward, groaning at the feel of your walls sheathing his heaving member.

Once he started moving, his pace was relentless. The sounds in the room were completely X rated – the sound of skin slapping against skin, the mattress squeaking, and the sounds of both of you panting. He tried to kiss you, but you were both just too far gone into the whirlwind of pleasure you had created. Your nails scratched against his back as he brushed against a particular spot, and you cried out. His hands were everywhere. He was like a drug, making you feel nothing but the particular high he gave you.

You felt that rubber band tighten, again, building more intensity than the first time around.

“I-I’m close.” You mewled, hands tightening against the slick skin of his back.

“Me, too.” He grunted, pace starting to pick up in speed.

You dug your heels into the backs of his muscular thighs, feeling the buzzing of pleasure in your body become faster and faster. After one particular stroke that brushed against your sensitive spot, you were gone. You couldn’t feel anything other than the pleasure. Your walls were clamping down around him, and you heard a long moan as his thrusts became sporadic.

The throbbing in your core was all you could focus on, and your breathing turned to gasping.

You felt the rush of both your liquids as you started to come down from your high. Sam’s forehead was pressed against yours, and he pressed a small kiss against your lips as he pulled himself out of you. You gasped as he did, entire lower half still extremely sensitive.

You felt him smirk against your lips, and he pulled back a little. “That was amazing.”

You had to agree there. You were pretty sure that was the hardest you’d ever came.

He rolled off of you, lying on his back and pulling you into his chest. You wanted to stay like that, forever. Post orgasm bliss with the man that you would love for the rest of your life.

The one that you wanted your forever with.

Give me a memory I can use / Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do / It matters how this ends…

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep.

You groaned as you stretched, rubbing your eyes. This was going to be a rough morning. You could already feel the soreness in your muscles and the stretched-out feeling between your legs. You smiled as you remembered the events of the previous night, rolling over to face Sam.

You frowned when you felt the cold sheets.

Maybe he’s up, already. He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye…

Would he?

You sat up, looking around the room. The light was just starting to come in through the curtains, bathing your room in an early morning glow. You didn’t see Sam’s clothes on the floor, but yours were still lying there.

You threw yourself out of bed, pulling on your robe and running out into the living room. Your heart was pounding in fear. Fear that he was gone, fear that you were never going to see him again… fear that last night might have been a mistake.

You didn’t see his shoes or his jacket near the door.

He was gone.

You sunk down to the floor, tears streaming down your face as you felt your heart start to crack. You felt every single fissure. Your breathing became impossible as the sobs started. You couldn’t hold them back. He was gone. You were never going to see him, again. He was probably going to prison.

You curled into yourself on the floor, tears falling from your face and splattering on the floor. You clutched your chest like it would hold the pieces of your breaking heart together – only a band-aid fix on your overflowing emotions.

You paused as your eye caught something on the coffee table.

A note with your name written on it. In Sam’s writing.

You crawled over to your table, not having the energy to stand, and ignoring the soreness in your muscles that no longer made you feel happy – you felt dirty.

You snatched the note from the smooth surface, hands shaking as you hurriedly unfolded the note.

I love you, too. I’m sorry.

Your heart broke.

...Cause what if I never love, again?

TAGS: (Forever tags are still open!)

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[captainschmoe]

I Will Survive [Beta] - Chapter 4: Pass It On

[A/N: Another dialogue-heavy chapter that was a little Billy bitch to write. You know, it’s weird, I used to like writing dialogue and not imagery, and now it’s flipped around.]

[Summary: In which Mark comes back and then Sean hears a voice in his dreams.

[Previous - Next]

At least his stomach was calmer now. His brain was still bouncing among a million different places. But at least he wasn’t sick anymore, beyond being a little lightheaded. Hopefully the fact that he felt better immediately after puking meant that it was just something he ate and not something he’d pass to Signe by way of the blanket that was given to him now, or through the sofa that was his new bed for the time being. Signe had given him a glass of water to sip on, to get rid of the revolting taste and acidic burn in the back of his throat. It didn’t completely help due to some of it having come out through his nose. If only he could snort water to make it go away. It scorched. It stank. It sucked.

“Mmm.” Sean practically melted into the sofa in response to Signe’s thumbs kneading the bottoms of his feet. She’d seen opportunity in the fact that his legs extended beyond the opposite arm, and set up a chair, plopped herself down, and went to work. Which Sean graciously accepted. It took away a good chunk of the suck. “You’re gonna make me fall asleep.”

“Good. You had a rough day, and it’s late.” She gestured her head towards the clock. 4 a.m.

“‘Rough day’ is a bit of an understatement..” He forced a short, sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, I died and went to limbo for a bit, then I watched my friend die and go to limbo, then I puked out my fucking nose. Kinda sucks.”

Signe stopped rubbing his feet. “What? You saw someone else?”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t show you yet.” Sean pulled out his phone and opened the messages. “I had this freaky fucking text conversation with Mark. Well... ‘Mark,’“ he emphasized with air quotes. He tossed it to her. “Here. You can read it if you want.”

Signe started scanning the messages. “Is he all right?”

“Wish I could say yes, but I don’t know.”

Her eyes widened momentarily, obviously in response to the picture. “Oh my God, it’s the exact same thing...”

Figured that was it.

Signe continued silently scrolling, thoroughly digesting the material. “You didn’t send any more messages after this last one?”

“That’s when I started puking. Kinda forgot about it.” Sean pulled himself out of the cushions and somewhat upright, leaning back against the arm. The movement took his feet out of easy reach for Signe. “I kinda want to try and send another. Oh yeah, I told Robin I’d send him the screenshots...”

Signe tossed the phone back to him. “I hope he’ll be okay. I’m worried about the whole ‘just try to save him’ thing.”

Sean couldn’t think of anything to say that was neither a lie nor generic, meaningless comfort. Instead, he focused on typing the text. “I just sent one saying still there glitch bitch?”

“Just don’t make him too mad.” Signe laughed lightly. Not the most genuine laugh, Sean could tell. It was succeeded by a spell of awkward silence, her smile rapidly downturning to neutral, as they waited for a response.

It came in a minute or so. In a tone far more deadpan than was probably appropriate or intended, Sean read: “Holy fuck, WTF just happened, I’m so confused, can’t explain in text, just gonna-”

The phone buzzed with a call from Mark before Sean could finish reading. He didn’t even wait for it to buzz a second time. Fuck courtesy.

“Mark!”

“Jack!”

“Mark!”

“Signe!”

“Yay, everyone’s here,” Sean joked. His eye twitched again. Fuck’s sake.

“Are you okay, Mark?” Signe asked.

“Yeah, I guess I’m fine. Thanks, Signe.” He paused with a sigh.

“You’re oddly calm for someone who was just trapped in a weird dark limbo dream for who knows how long,” Sean said. “Unless something totally different happened to you.”

“I’m... I’m honestly more just befuddled than anything else. But yeah, that is what happened. Like everything was kinda dark, and backwards, and weird.”

Sean lightly bit the inside of his cheek, deciding to let it go. Mark’s voice was far too flat for that the be the whole truth. But if something serious did happen, he wasn’t going to press the issue.

Mark continued: “I literally have no idea how I got there or how I got out. I woke up at the neighbor’s house, and I wandered around for a while. Then outside my own house there was this weird bioluminescent mirage thing that kinda looked like me, and when I laid down on it, I came back, but other than that, I got no idea. I don’t remember what happened before; I was going up to my room for something and then the dream or whatever happened and then I woke up on the ground outside.”

“Okay, I gotcha,” Sean said, stopping him. “That’s all the same as what I saw. Did anyone else see you?”

“No, I was home alone at the time. Both when I went into the dream and after I came out. It’s weird, it felt like way longer, but only, like, fifteen minutes had actually passed. And I woke up between the bushes and my house so none of the neighbors would’ve seen me.”

“Okay, yeah, all still the same as over here. I’m kinda surprised you figured out how to get out that quick, to be honest.”

Mark scoffed. “Oh, you think I’m stupid?”

“You sure you want me to answer that?”

A single giggle escaped Signe’s mouth despite her efforts to restrain it.

“Hey, I heard that.”

Both Sean and Signe burst into laughter, Mark following suit. But Mark’s iconic laugh sounded even more off - far more, in fact - than his oddly calm and flat tone of voice earlier. It was... hollow, somehow. Not quite there. Dare he say, dead. Sean knew that laugh. He could mimic that laugh himself. But here and now, that laugh supported his earlier suspicion that something must have happened in that dream.

If that was true, Sean hoped Mark would speak up about it soon. He was still reluctant to be that guy, making him talk if he didn’t want to.

“Okay,” Sean said, breaking the others’ giggles. There was work to do. “So if the exact same thing happened twice in a row, then if it happens to someone else, then they can get out the same way?”

“Should we tell everyone so they know?” Signe asked.

“Yeah, I was thinking that - at least the other Youtubers in Dark vs. Anti, maybe also some who weren’t involved in that. Not the community, though. I think they’d just freak out too much. I don’t really want that much commotion from them. Might make it worse.”

Signe gave a nod of confirmation. “Makes sense, if Anti’s targeting you two as revenge for that video.”

“I can contact everyone who was involved,” Mark said. “And Wade and Bob, just in case.”

Better safe than sorry, Sean agreed. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to let Felix and Marzia in the know, either. He could tell them. “So... is that the plan? You tell your people, we tell ours? We good?” He looked at Signe with raised eyebrows and a thumbs-up, asking for approval, and received a thumbs-up in return.

“Sounds good.”

“All right, then.”

“Take care, Mark,” Signe said.

“Thanks, Signe. You, too. And you, Jack.”

“You know we’re all here for each other,” Sean lightly prodded.

Mark went silent for a few moments. If only Sean could see his face, his expression, to try and read what he was thinking or feeling. It would help a lot. He caught Signe glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah... thanks, guys.”

“Any time. See you later.”

“Bye, Mark.”

“Bye.”

The call left behind a profound silence in its wake. Sean spent a solid several moments staring into the screen before tapping back into the messages so he could forward them to Robin.

Signe picked up on his mood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

Sean sighed and shook his head before making eye contact. “Didn’t Mark seem off to you?”

“Mm, maybe a little?” She rubbed at her eye. “I figured he was probably just rattled by everything.”

Sean sank back into the sofa. “It’s just that he sounded way more... emotionally dead than I figured he would. Like... I know he exaggerates when he’s on camera, but he emotes a little bit in everyday life.”

Signe shrugged. “I guess you know him better than I do. Your judgment’s better than mine.” She pushed herself to a stand. “It’s really late. I’m heading to bed. You coming?”

“I just need to send Robin the messages with Mark that I keep forgetting about, and then I’ll be up.”

“All right.” With that, Signe disappeared. Sean took the next minute to send the screenshots - adding a note that he was going to bed soon and they’d have to wait to talk later. He received a simple holy shit and thanks back.

Stretching exhausted what little energy he had left. Almost not enough to make it to the bedroom, he figured. Agh. Still had to brush teeth - extra thorough tonight - and change into pajamas. Heck, maybe he wouldn’t even bother with that second bit. The T-shirt and underwear he was already wearing would be perfectly comfortable. Fuck it.

It was entirely possible that Sean didn’t have a single thought between finally getting up from the sofa and walking into the bedroom, aside from the relatively-trivial “vomit tastes colossally worse when mixed with mint” discovery at the bathroom sink. In the serene darkness - did he forget to turn off the lights? - Signe had taken up a book, her face a tad spooky under the glow of the tiny lamp attached to it. Sean practically collapsed onto his side of the bed, burying his face into the pillow. He heard the sound of the book lamp coming off, and of the book itself folding shut. The feel of Signe shifting onto her side, and of her hand once again kneading into his muscles.

“Not so hard, please.”

Sean didn’t seriously expect to actually fall asleep, predicting a night of worry-induced insomnia. But there was little his eyelids could do against the hypnotizing effect of Signe’s fingers softly rubbing circles on his back and shoulders.

Sean had feeling in his body. Yet everything around him was dark and empty. Nothing else existed in this void... except for another voice. An unfamiliar, echoey voice; young, but with no other identifiable features. The first few words were unintelligible, but eventually morphed into what he recognized as a repetition of his own name.

“Sean? ...Sean. I need help. Please.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t say right now. I just need help.”

Help? What can I do here? “What do you need?”

“I need someone to talk to me.”

Oh, that’s it? “Sure, I can talk to you, little buddy. What about?”

“Anything. Doesn’t matter. Agh, but I took so long trying to get a hold of you that now you can’t stay and longer!”

“What?”

“Just... Just know that you’re not safe. Don’t let your guard down. I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

“Wait, hold on!”

...

“Hello?”

...

“Little buddy?”