#burn her the one who looks like jolie. you make the CHOICE to burn her.

[when-wax-wings-melt]

GOD. if Brant had run like keefe did Jolie would still be alive if keefe had stayed he could have hurt people but he hurt them worse by leaving. was the right decision the one we've seen the consequences of already? if he'd stayed would Grady and edaline have lost another daughter? who would have been at fault?

the thing that happens is Brant and Jolie give us a track, a model, a tragedy. and we see Sophie and Keefe encountering that track, placing their shoes in the echoes of footprints and only realizing halfway through where it will take them. they're doomed by the narrative but Keefe looks at himself as the only one who can rewrite it. they're a living tragedy but Sophie thinks it won't happen to her it won't happen to them it's worth it if it happens to them.

Brant and Keefe have had only two choices their whole lives. to stay or to leave to run or to give up hope of survival. Jolie dies. Sophie doesn't, but maybe does, but maybe doesn't. they keep walking the path. they keep running off of it and they think they can make their own way but here they are again, unmatchable desperate to be together no matter what anyone else says a huge power that isn't their fault that they can't control, not either of them, tension and fear ready to snap, confrontation ready to leave them both dead this time.

and Brant gives Keefe the branding iron and tells him to burn her.

[gay-otlc]

Pride

Various KOTLC characters, and their first time at a pride parade.

He/she/they Sophie, they/them Elwin, ae/aer Biana, fi/fire Marella, ze/zir Keefe, he/xe Tiergan, no pronouns Tam, he/they Wylie, xe/xem Dex. Will I ever stop giving the kotlcrew funky pronouns? I think we all know the answer to that.

Content warning for mentioned homophobia and transphobia and a touch of arson

Word count: 1847

Read on AO3

Did they ask to be tagged? No. Will I tag them anyway? Yes. @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @countingthestarsaboveourheads @everblaeze-and-balefire @gay-tea-kettle

The first time Jolie Ruewen goes to pride, she doesn't know that Brant is anything other than the most supportive boyfriend in the world. The guy who stole a leaping crystal from his parents, who brought her on an illegal trip to the human world, just so she would have a place to feel a little more accepted after the awful day she'd had trying to get assigned a girl's dorm room at Foxfire... that's the guy she knows, and the one she loves more than anything. She attacks Brant with a kiss, whispering "thank you thank you thank you thank you," once they separate, and even that can't tell him how grateful she is.

The first time Elwin Heslege goes to pride, it's because Livvy stormed into their office raving about this incredible thing in the human world, and they really had no choice but to follow cer. They don't regret it. It's a place to be proud of being queer, of being aromantic and asexual and nonbinary. Their mood soars, but then falls as they notice all the kids without parents, without families. Livvy, able to read their mind without being a telepath, tells them that they can't adopt every homeless human kid. "Watch me," they say, but they allow cer to drag them away. Still, they can't help promising themself that they'll take care of any queer kid who needs them.

The first time Sophie Foster goes to pride, he's eleven and not entirely sure what they are. Just that girls are... really, really cute. She's with his parents, their human parents. This is the first and last pride month they'll celebrate together. For now, Sophie doesn't know that. All she knows is the rainbow ice cream on his tongue, the music and laughter in the air. Amy complaining, "It's so hot," and their mother saying "I know, but we're here to support Sophie." And she's safe. Sophie is safe, and he has a family that supports them, and this is scary but she's going to be okay.

The first time Fintan Pyren goes to pride, he had no intention of doing anything but some arson. But the rainbows and music caught his eye, and he quickly realizes what this is. He's angry. He's so angry he never got this kind of support. His fire burns hotter.

The first time Fitz Vacker goes to pride, he has no idea what's going on. He’s just there to look for the Moonlark he's increasingly unsure exists, and he stumbles into a street filled with rainbows. Hearts proclaiming "love is love" and "we're here, we're queer." He approaches a man in a long blue dress and asks what's going on. The man kindly explains that this is a pride parade for people who are queer, people who are attracted to their own gender or no one at all and people who identify with a gender other than what they were assigned. And now he has a word for what he feels for his best friend when they make eye contact a little too long. He has a word and he's not alone.

The first time Biana Vacker goes to pride, ae's supposed to be at school. But Fitz says he wants aer help looking for the Moonlark, and this sounds way more interesting than PE, so ae agrees happily. The siblings reappear in a swarm of sparkly rainbows, and it feels like home before ae even knows what it is. "Humans have parades to celebrate people who love the same gender," Fitz says quietly. "I know you've been having kind of a tough time, with what happened with Maruca and all, but-" He's cut off by Biana throwing aer arms around him, eyes watering. Yeah. Yeah, this is home.

The first time Maruca Chebota goes to pride, she has no idea how to react to her ex best friend who she maybe sort of kissed once apologizing and bringing her to the human world as a peace offering. Aer fingers are twisted together as ae says softly “Maybe it wasn’t wrong for us to kiss.” Maruca isn’t sure she believes aer, not yet, but she isn’t quite so convinced it was wrong either.

The first time Edaline Ruewen goes to pride, it's because Sophie's voice is shaking as they say "Mom? I'm bisexual and genderfluid, I use he/she/they pronouns, and there's this... human celebration for queer people, and my old family used to go with me, and I was wondering if you...?" She doesn't think twice before grabbing his hand and standing by her side the whole time, more than happy to celebrate the child she was lucky enough to get in her life.

The first time Marella Redek goes to pride, fi's with Sophie and Sophie is pissed. Not at fire, but at the world. One moment fi was in their room, tearfully admitting fire crush on Linh and is that okay? And the next, they’re in the human world. "Do you like girls only? Or more genders, or what?" Sophie asks, and fi stammers out that yeah, girls only. She nods, disappearing for a second before returning with a flag. The color scheme looks almost like a sunset, pink and orange. "This is the lesbian pride flag," Sophie says, and it's hard to imagine pride at being like this- at being lesbian- but fi lets him drape the flag over fire shoulders and smiles. For the first time in a long time, Marella smiles without fear.

The first time Keefe Sencen goes to pride, ze’s never been more grateful to have Elwin as a father. Through sobs, ze explains that Cassius called zir a mistake for being bisexual and insisted that he would never refer to his child as a "ze." For a moment, ze thinks Elwin is genuinely about to break something. But Elwin just hugs zir close and says "You're my kid, Keefe, and I love you as you are." Believing that is hard, at first. But standing there in a crowd of hundreds, hundreds of people like zir, all because zir dad thought ze should feel like part of a community... that's when Keefe knows Elwin isn't going to leave.

The first time Tiergan Alenefar goes to pride, he's using the leaping crystal that is completely legal to have. (So what if it's "breaking the law?" The law is stupid.) With xem, xyr what-it's-totally-platonic bestie Prentice. Prentice has stripes of pink, purple, and blue painted on his cheek, and they're holding hands and xe's laughing as they buy Wylie an aromantic flag pin. His first coherent thought is that this is the happiest he's been in... a really long time. Xyr second thought is I really need to bring my kids here.

The first time Linh Song goes to pride, she tells Tiergan that she has a girlfriend now. It's unclear what she was expecting, but it probably wasn't for Tiergan to say "That's great, kid." He must see the doubt etched in her face, because his gaze softens and he says "It really is okay, Linh. Hey, do you want to go to a parade with rainbow humans who think being queer is something to be proud of?" She isn't sure the answer to that question would ever be no.

The first time Tam Song goes to pride, Linh is insisting, and Tam definitely does not have a choice in the matter. So Tam goes, grudgingly at first, but warming up to the idea upon realizing that all these people are cheering for identities like Tam's. It's over too quickly when Linh drags Tam back home, still smiling. "So," she asks, "Did you like it?" Unable to lie to her even if Tam wanted to, Tam nods. Her smile grows wider. "I thought you would."

The first time Wylie Endal goes to pride, he's mostly just trying to avoid doing their homework. Going on an illegal trip to the Forbidden Cities for a queer human pride parade? Sure, that's a valid excuse. He wears the aro pin their dads gave him, and their two siblings come along. Both are practically vibrating with excitement about this, though Tam is trying (and failing) to hide that. Honestly? He would not trade this for the world.

The first time Dex Dizznee goes to pride, it's because Juline stormed into xyr room and sighed upon realizing that xe had absolutely buried xemself in xyr work to avoid thinking about how it stung, being called he, or all the pressure to sign up for the match and no one understanding that xe just doesn't want to... it's a good escape, in xyr opinion, but xyr mother disagrees and she is hard to argue with. So, with a sigh of xyr own, xe opens up about how maybe the Lost Cities is kind of a terrible place for queer kids. "I am going to murder someone," Juline mutters, before Kesler suggests they maybe go with a... less violent solution. Boring. His solution is to take them to a pride parade, where Dex can feel a little less terrible about xemself, and xe grudgingly admits that this is better.

The first time Stina Heks goes to pride, her three girlfriends insist and she absolutely cannot say no to them. The four come across a flag with the pi symbol, and Stina enthusiastically explains the math behind it when Linh asks. Marella, cutting her off with an affectionate okay, math gay, says it represents polyamory and infinite love. Maruca takes a million pictures. Even though she pretends to be annoyed, Stina smiles every time she looks at the one hanging up in her room.

The first time Della Vacker goes to pride, it’s her first official date with a certain Livvy Sonden. Livvy insists on dancing with her while “they’re so pretty, it hurts, I’m not talking about boys, I’m talking about girls,” plays in the background. As her girlfriend dips her into a kiss, Biana cheers and Fitz hands aer ten dollars. She's too happy to even pretend to mind that her kids are betting about her love life.

The first time Councillor Bronte goes to pride, he's reluctantly being dragged along by Oralie. He definitely does not tear up upon realizing that these people, so many people, are happy about what he spent thousands of years regretting, what he tried to hard to hide. That maybe, if the elvin world had been a little more like this all those years ago, things would never have gone so badly with Fintan. He's definitely not tearing up, not at all, so he doesn't know why Oralie is hugging him so tightly. But he chooses not to push her away.

The first time they all go to pride together, as the big, messy family that they are, it's after the Neverseen is gone. After they've all been broken a million times but they put each other back together. And now they're here for one another, to support and celebrate and take pride in the rainbow that they make.

[crymeariveronceagain]

Thoughts on Brant?

*breaks fingers*

Brant’s a jerk. Like dang, how did one Neverseen member get to be so very salty. He’ll win any argument, just because he’s great with a comeback. He’s made every single Neverseen member either want him dead or cry. He made Keefe cry a lot. A lot a lot. Tam has yet to cry, but Brant thinks it’s coming.

Brant really and truly loved Jolie. He loved her more than anything, everything. Love was something bigger than him, and impermanent, but for a moment, he did love her more than his own self. 

Jolie’s love kept him human, at times, when he was younger. She managed to keep him sane. He would have done anything for her.

Brant’s main weakness is his own paranoia. He overthinks, overanalyzes, overestimates everything. If he had a choice, he’d lock himself in a room and never leave.

He doesn’t like people, anymore. He used to. He used to be a pretty friendly guy. Not anymore. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He keeps every thought in his own mind.

More than anything else, Brant is a result of circumstances. He’s not one thing, not one easy little answer in boxes to pick between good and evil. He doesn’t think of himself as wholly good or evil. He is just one person, born of bad, formed in strenuous, subject to dangerous

Brant was young. Like, really young, when he found out he was a pyrokinetic. And that did not go well for him. He lost everybody he cared about, just by existing.

Jolie was one of the few people who was able to trust him, knowing that he was a pyrokinetic.

He joined the Neverseen with really, really, really good intentions. He didn't want anything bad out of it, he honestly just wanted to be accepted. 

Of course, you know, time goes on. Opinions change. 

Someone in the upper ranks of the Neverseen sent him to burn down an empty building. It was resistance, they said. They couldn’t be walked over anymore. But Brant considered himself a good elf. He was good! He wouldn’t hurt people! 

But slowly, his inhibitions against harming others were lowered. It started slowly, as all things tend to, a slow and gentle descent into evil, because a frog thrown into a vat of boiling water will struggle, but a slowly boiled frog will accept its downfall with such complacency that you must assume that it doesn’t even know of its own demise.

The Neverseen’s claws sank into his chest, like ribbons of hate, and he couldn’t leave what they said away from what he saw. Every person around him was reduced to the ideas the Neverseen put into his mind. People who stood on the sidelines were complacent, people who fought against him were his enemies. Talentless were oppressed, talented were privliged. Pyrokinetics were victims, and that made everything they did okay. 

His lips twisted into a permanent scowl, his features turning into glares. No one was safe from the place he created in his mind, where everything was wrong and bad and nothing could escape his anger. Everyone was a threat, everyone was a danger.

Jolie found out about it eventually, and she cried. “This isn’t you, Brant,” she said, “It’s not good for you. It only makes you angry. I know you, and I know you don’t want this.”

“How dare you tell me what I want,” Brant had snapped at her, “You have a talent, and you’re allowed to use it. You’re part of the problem.”

Jolie’s eyes had glimmered with tears that he’d put there, but he jutted out his chin and didn’t back down. “Maybe if that’s what you think, you should leave. Get out.”

Jolie didn’t talk to him for weeks.

But then, one day, she hailed him, out of the blue. 

“I’ve been doing some thinking, Brant,” she said, softly, “And I... You’re right.”

Brant’s jaw had dropped. 

“I want to join the Neverseen.”

And she did. Brant wanted to marry her. He knew she was smart. He knew she was good, he knew she was kind.

But nothing added up. He picked up on the signs for a while. She didn’t look happy. He knew what Jolie’s happiness looked like, and she just looked pained. She kissed his hand, one night, and asked him if he’d still marry her if she did something dangerous. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it wasn’t just a hypothetical. 

He watched Vespera grow more and more suspicious of his fiance. She never let things burn, and more and more of their plans got foiled. That secret organization, the Black Swan, seemed hotter on their heels than ever before. 

Brant had to look to Jolie. Vespera had to, as well. She was the only variable. The only difference.

He was there the night she slipped up. She accidentally messed up her words, called something the “Black Swan” instead of the “Neverseen”, and his soul died in his chest. 

Because he’d known. He’d known it, somewhere, deep in his chest. As much as he hadn’t wanted to believe it, he’d known.

The fire that began in his chest died, and he didn’t know what to do. So of course, he told someone. It just happened to be all the wrong someones. And the world around him burned.

They killed her in front of him, had him set the fires that they’d blame her death on, and he couldn’t say no. You can’t say no, at that point. You can’t jump out of the water that’s been boiling around you for years, now. Not when your fiance’s burned body is lying at your feet and you’re burning down her house. Not when they managed to break you, to ruin you, and you let them. 

He was out of choices, out of options. 

The guilt drove him into a semblance of madness. People blamed the fire, blamed her death, but it was guilt. 

The Neverseen abandoned him for decades. He had expected nothing less. They didn’t care. They couldn’t.

But then, he met her. And it clicked back into place horrifyingly quickly. 

Jolie had betrayed him, hadn’t she? He had watched them kill her, but she deserved it. He’d set the house aflame, but hadn’t it been a long time coming? She’d have killed him, if she could have gotten away with it. Maybe she’d been waiting for their marriage.

Paranoia snapped through his lungs, hot and sharp, and things clicked, but in a way that left scars. 

He had his wits about him, but he hid it.

The Neverseen took him back as though he hadn’t been gone a day.

[bookwyrminspiration]

the sophie & keefe parallels with jolie & brant 🥺🥺🥺

oh this one hurts. this one hurts real bad. if we take it far enough then we could say Sophie and Keefe's relationship is leading to inevitable ruin because they love each other too much to acknowledge their faults and hold each other accountable

but to break it down further

Sophie and Jolie/Keefe and Brant:

We can draw some pretty obvious parallels between Sophie and Jolie. They're both Ruewens, they're both members of the Black Swan, Jolie wanted to make the world a better place and that's what Sophie is trying to do now. There's also the element of forgiveness and leniency, Jolie still trying to save Brant and reason with him and understand him when he was past redemption for everyone else, which ultimately killed her. Sophie keeps forgiving Keefe because "I could never hate you," when he's given her plenty of reason to do just that. She keeps giving him chances and if it continues they'll never learn and they might go down in flames, too. We can also touch on the elements of secrecy and privacy, as Grady shared that Jolie was a very private person and didn't talk about her life a lot and Edaline shared that she'd seemed closed off and worn out before she died.

There's the obvious Neverseen parallel between Brant and Keefe, though Keefe joined as a ruse and Brant was a real member. They both thought they knew what was best and they both tried to convince everyone around them they were right (Keefe later admitted he fucked up bad, tho). They're both incredibly determined and aggressive in a fight, throwing around a lot of cocky attitude and threats (when Keefe isn't being emotionally devastated by his mother). A minor detail that I can't help but notice is the notes. Brant wrote Jolie love letters constantly while she was in the elite levels as an expression of his affection. Keefe leaves notes behind when he wants to see her and when he's leaving, as those are expression of him wanting to connect with her and just be near her. If we look specifically at the note from Unlocked, it's him saying he loves her by trying to protect her--in this case, by not being near her.

however, I also want to present this perspective

Sophie and brant/keefe and jolie:

what are some of the defining characteristics of Brant? What makes him, well, him? Passion. Drive. A willingness to do things no one else is (like torture a child, but not saying that's a good thing). Still held guilt and grief over Jolie, saying "If she doesn't get to live--no one does" in Everblaze. A lot of these traits are reflected in Sophie too. She's incredibly passionate about her friends and keeping them safe, making choices no one else agrees with (burning down the storehouse, which notably uses fire) and always wanting more. more success and progress, more results, to be getting somewhere. Brant has delivered several passionate speeches and lines throughout the series, but a lot of the times it's Sophie who responds to them and talks back. They're both burning their way through life and blazing a breakneck paced trail, frantically running towards something/someone (note: also the bad match situation for both of them, denied something everyone is supposed to have access to)

Jolie and Keefe both give me the vibe of gentle souls, of people who have been hurt and are just trying to live with it (although Jolie died with it). Jolie was quiet but determined, willing to take risks and put herself and her personal safety on the line, same as Keefe when he ran away to join the Neverseen. Actually, I think we have an even better parallel between Jolie and Keefe's time with the Neverseen than his comparison to Brant. They tried to play double agent, and it didn't end well for either of them. They both lost something--Jolie, her love and life, Keefe, the caches and the trust in his relationships. The journaling interests me too. Keefe has his sketchbooks and Jolie had her notebook about Brant, both of them organizing their thoughts on paper and trying to make sense of things. I also want to briefly make the point that Jolie kept asking people (the reader of the journal) to give Brant another chance, that he's just misunderstood, and Keefe is constantly asking Sophie to trust him, to let him back in. There's this element of clinging to the past and trying to make things right without acknowledging how everything has changed.

and then we could also touch on how they're both childhood friends sharing something--Brant and Jolie had that gremlin, which is how they bonded, and Sophie and Keefe had that element of both sticking out and garnering attention, Sophie being the new/weird human-girl (though she isn't human) and Keefe skipping a grade and having a bad family life. They were both challenged by distance and communicated through other means--love letters and transmitting.

I could probably keep going but!! there's so many similarities between the two relationships and their past, but we can only hope that Sophie and Keefe don't end up the way Brant and Jolie did. this is a super interesting comparison tho, so thank you for the prompt! I hadn't even realized how similar they were until I started writing this

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 7

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 4.1k

a/n: as always, THANK YOU for reading! Thank you for reblogging (which is literally every author’s dream), liking, commenting (I DIE OVER YOUR COMMENTS/ASKS, THEY ARE THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY) and just reading in gereral! Enjoy!

Chapter 7. Lie to Me

series masterlist

Jimin finds himself robbed of breath as he watches that red thread dancing in the wind, the twin to his own. His heart is unsure of whether or not it wants to beat like a drum or stop altogether, leaving him clutching his chest.

Slowly, so slowly that it almost hurts, he brings his eyes up to the girl’s face. Only catching her side profile, he can’t help but be taken by surprise.

Soft is the first word that comes to mind when he catches sight of her eyes, her cheeks and nose. Her lips are pursed from where she must be biting them, making him emit a choked sigh. Her hair, falling around her shoulders, is deep with color.

He watches with no small amount of devastation as her eyes land on Elle’s figure, the cat already bounding down the stairs to greet her in the street. Coming to a stop, the woman crouches down and sets her groceries beside her. She reaches out to scratch Elle’s ears, and Jimin is unable to do anything but watch as those pursed lips ease out into a soft, beautiful smile.

It’s a smile, Jimin realizes, that he was meant to wake up to for the rest of his life.

Stuck in his trance, Jimin sees the woman pull her phone out and type out a quick message. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she grabs her groceries once again and begins to trek up the stairs.

Like the sound of a nail being hammered into his coffin, his phone pings with a text notification. He doesn’t look at it just yet, refusing to accept the reality. He keeps his eyes glued to the girl, his heart throwing itself at his ribs with undeniable vigor.

Step.

She turns to head up to the top right-hand apartment, Elle leading the way.

Step.

Now she’s fishing keys out of her pocket, saying something to Elle as the cat leaps through the window with ease.

Step.

She’s pressed up close to the door now, fumbling a little with the lock before the door gives way.

Step.

Making sure she has everything, the girl does a quick inventory of her bags, giving Jimin a complete view of her face for a split second before stepping inside.

Close.

The minutes tick by, but Jimin remains frozen in place, staring at that door with the number 6 hanging from it. The inside of his head turns into a hurricane, not giving him enough time to batter down the hatches before everything comes pouring down. Bringing a shaking hand to his mouth, Jimin finally tears his gaze from the door as it all becomes too much and the tears begin to stream down his face.

It’s there, quietly sobbing in his car, that Jimin realizes that he will be forever haunted by the image of his soulmate. And it’s there, one hand wringing the steering wheel while the other tries to silence his cries, that he curses the cruelty of fate.

Cutting the thread wasn’t enough, he knows that now. Just because his soulmate - Jolie is his soulmate’s name, how can a name be so beautiful? - cut the thread, doesn’t mean that she stopped fate. There are other common threads that bind them together.

Who could have expected it to come in the form of a cat?

Hands shaking violently, Jimin turns the key in the ignition. The bawdy tune on the radio is turned off the instant it comes on, and he’s left staring at his phone that sits atop his console.

Closing his eyes and grabbing it, he does his best to control his breathing. With tears still escaping his eyes, he looks at the message that arrived what feels like eons ago.

Jolie (Elle): Thanks for dropping Elle off! I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for you.

Jimin is at a complete loss for words, so he does the only thing he can.

He calls Namjoon.

✂

“Did you enjoy your night out?”

Elle preens on the kitchen counter, looking like she definitely did. I shoo her away, setting the groceries down and immediately beginning to put them away.

“Well, I’m glad. Good to know I was worried sick over nothing.” When Elle doesn’t begin to miraculously speak, I sigh. “You know, I went and saw that therapist today. The one my boss talked about a couple weeks ago.”

I pause for a moment, staring at the can of soup in my hands. Reading the nutrition label but hardly seeing it at all. It’s still early in the day, but I find myself already at a loss as to what I should be doing with the rest of the day.

“Now that you’re home, wanna go on a fieldtrip?” Elle perks up at my offer, tail lazily swishing back and forth. Putting the rest of my groceries away, I fumble around for my jacket. Then, staring at the envelope Namjoon gave me that still sits on my nightstand, I walk past it and grab a small business card sitting atop my dresser.

I have some homework to do.

If I’m supposed to come to terms with the events of the past couple of weeks, I might as well start with the person that assisted me in this entire process. That, and Christina may very well be the only person that doesn’t want to strangle me at the moment.

Chung-hei and Namjoon are supportive, but they see this as one thing and one thing only: wrong.

Elle is already waiting for me by the door when I reemerge, slipping the jacket on. She bounds out the door as soon as I open it, heading toward the small path that leads toward the park. I chuckle, the sound at odds with the uneasy feeling in my chest.

“Not that way,” I call to the confused cat. “We’re taking a bus to Itaewon.”

✂

Jimin is sitting on a stool by the kitchen island when the boys come stumbling through the door. He hardly flinches at the sudden change, only staring at the marble countertop. Staring at it like it might come up with the answers he needs, but not getting any input.

Namjoon received a call about an hour ago from Jimin, the younger boy nearly hyperventilating into the phone as he told him two things before dissolving into some sort of shocked silence.

“It was her.”

“Help.”

It didn’t take much for Namjoon to piece it all together. He had just been on the phone with Chung-hei that morning, trying to remember if Jolie had a white cat named Elle, and if Jimin was indeed in possession of that same cat.

Chung-hei had confirmed it, although she was just as shocked as Namjoon. What are the odds?

Apparently better than they thought, if Jimin’s current state is any indication.

Namjoon had wanted to stop Jimin, but after a long chat with his soulmate, he decided that it may be best to just let fate run its course.

Now, looking at Jimin who has finally lifted his head, he wonders if he was a fool for letting it go this far.

“Jimin-ah we’re home,” Taehyung announces, heading straight toward the island and taking a stool on his right. Yoongi takes the one on the left, Jungkook settling for wrapping his arms around Jimin’s shoulders and nuzzling his nose into his hair in the way that only Jungkook does.

Jin, j-hope, and Namjoon all weave around to stand on the opposite side of the island, exchanging worried glances. Unfortunately, none of them are experts in severed soulmate bonds. However, they do consider themselves to be Jimin experts.

Hopefully that will be enough.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” The question comes from Yoongi.

It falls silent as everyone waits for Jimin to speak. The quiet seems to be pressing in from all sides, nearly suffocating them.

Raising his head a bit more but not looking anywhere but the countertop, Jimin relinquishes his lip from where he was chewing on it.

“Her name is Jolie.” Jimin’s voice is still a bit shaky, but he pushes forward almost as though this is his only chance to get the words out before they’re forever locked up inside his mind. “Elle is...her cat. She was grocery shopping, I thought she was nice.”

“You talked to her?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin shakes his head. “No...not face to face. I had her number, when I thought I was just texting Elle’s owner. She seemed friendly.”

It’s quiet for a moment until Namjoon can’t fight the guilt anymore. “I’m...she probably is, Jimin. Good people make horrible decisions, sometimes.” He barely gets the words out without confessing all that he knows. He’s dying to, but he can’t. Something stops him, begging him to wait a little longer.

Nodding absentmindedly, Jimin sighs. “Elle loves her.” He stares burning holes through the countertop now. “She ran like a puppy once she saw her walking down the street. I think...she is a good person. So why…?”

He doesn’t need to finish his question, everybody is already thinking the same thing.

“Did she see you?” Taehyung wonders aloud, looking at his best friend with nothing but sweet concern.

“No, I was already in my car. But she...she texted me.” Jimin takes a moment before choking out the rest. “She thanked me for returning Elle. Said that she hoped it wasn’t too inconvenient for me.”

Once again, silence reigns in the apartment. It’s a rare occasion; these four walls are rarely quiet.

Hobi shuffles on his feet. “Have you thought about...you know…”

“What.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Texting her back?”

Jimin finally looks up, focusing on Hobi. “Text her back? What would I even say? Why….why?”

Namjoon jumps in. “I think it might be good, Jimin. It may help you to get some closure? Just get to know her a bit better. Maybe you’ll find out why she made this choice in the first place.” What he doesn’t tell him is that he’s been meticulously checking the mail every day for any sign of Jolie’s letter. If she hasn’t written to him yet, maybe this is another way for his friend to get closure?

Jimin shakes his head. “I’m the last person she’ll want to talk to.”

“She doesn’t have to know that it’s you,” Jin chimes in.

“And besides,” Namjoon continues. “I think that maybe today was some sort of sign. She can’t turn away forever, you know? Fate will always find a way.”

What he was hoping might be uplifting instead has Jimin turning to look at him, some sort of cold fire flickering in his eyes before sputtering out. “I don’t want fate or whatever this is,” he holds up his thread, “to just exhaust her into finally coming back to me! Is it too much to ask that she actually wants to be with me?”

“I didn’t mean it like-”

Jimin rises from his seat, prepared to walk away. “I’m not you, Namjoon!” His voice echoes through the house. “I didn’t get the girl! She took one look at me and thought that it would be better to ruin my life than be a part of it!” Jimin’s chest rises and falls, his breath rattling with the threat of sobbing.

Jungkook keeps his arms wrapped around Jimin, planting him in place. He’s always known Jimin so well; he knew that he would try to run and hide at some point during this conversation, to lick his wounds in peace without having to hurt anyone else. They’ll take it, though. They’ll take all of the barbed words in exchange for some sort of breakthrough. For Jimin to feel something again.

Jimin shakes his head, angry at himself for the tears and sobs that try to break through. “I’m so tired of crying, Namjoon.”

Namjoon remains on the opposite side of the island, unable to come up with anything to say, other than, “I’m sorry.”

But it’s Jungkook who musters up the courage to speak next. He’s quiet, still practically laying on Jimin and knowing that he’ll get away with it. Resting his chin on his friend’s shoulder, he sighs.

“Jimin-ah,” he begins, “You’re right, this is exhausting. But don’t you think that maybe she’s just...scared? And don’t you think she wouldn’t be so afraid if she got to know you? The Jimin that we all know isn’t scary, but all she’s ever seen are the promotions and concerts and suddenly she’s been thrown into a world where the one person that’s supposed to be her’s belongs to the entire world.”

The icy exterior that Jimin had been clinging to melts a little, his chin dropping to his chest. Jungkook sees the encouraging glances from his hyungs, and continues.

“It’s harmless to text her a little bit. Just get to know her. Let her get to know you. You can wait, to tell you who you are. But if you quit now, you will always wonder what could have happened.” Jungkook squeezes Jimin’s shoulders a bit tighter. “Do yourself a favor, and let it hurt a little more now so you can feel better in the future.”

“Rip off the bandaid,” Taehyung mumbles.

Yoongi stares at the countertop as well. “We’ll be here to help you know what to say, if you need help. But just because she shut you out, doesn’t mean that you should return the favor.”

Jimin closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before letting it out. When he opens them again, the pain is still there. Like a splinter caught in his skin. Painful, but not unbearable. Not when he’s got more important tasks to attend to.

He looks up at Namjoon, his cheeks a little red from embarrassment due to his outburst. “I’m sorry, Joon. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that.”

Namjoon shakes his head, offering up a small smile. “I know. Don’t worry about it.”

At that moment the doorbell rings, everyone looking at each other with confused expressions. Jimin’s heart rate picks up, his imagination running while.

Did she see him? Does she somehow know what he’s planning to do? Is she angry and here to-

“Chicken!” Hobi shouts, bolting from the kitchen to the front door. Everyone dissolves into laughter, the uneasy tension from before dissolving a little.

Once Hobi returns with several boxes of chicken, explaining that he called for it just before entering the house, they turn back to the matter at hand.

Jimin stares down at his phone, wondering how on earth to begin. Jin coughs around his food before speaking.

“Just start with something that you have in common,” he suggests.

That common thread that is trying to no avail to bring them together.

Elle.

✂

Elle, I have come to learn, believes that she is above taking the bus. She must have gotten a hint of the high life last night with whoever she stayed with.

She’s currently poking her head out of my bag, which she immediately burrowed herself in upon finding boarding the bus. I smirk down at her, keeping my eyes averted from everyone else. It’s nice to have a little friend with me. It helps me ignore all of the people staring at me.

Or rather, my thread.

No one has dared to ask about it. Yet.

It should only take about twenty minutes to get to Itaewon. Hopefully that’s enough time for me to slip away before someone plucks up the courage to talk to me. If they approach, maybe Elle will hiss at them.

Judging by the way she’s nuzzled into my bag, I suppose that may be too much to wish for.

Riding the bus and watching the city slip past through the scratched windows has always been the strangest form of therapy for me. It’s crowded at times, loud and overall an awkward experience for many. However it’s often one of the places where I can just slip away. Dream with my eyes open as street shops and people drift into the rear view.

I’m just entering that dreamstate when I feel my phone vibrate. Slipping it out of my pocket and ignoring the whispers coming from a group of friends a couple of rows behind me, I glance at the new message.

It’s from the person that dropped Elle off, finally returning my message of gratitude.

UNK: It wasn’t inconvenient, don’t worry. If I’d had it my way, I would have hung out with Elle all day. 😸

I snort at the message, leveling Elle with a glare. “Sounds like you two are close.” Elle stares back up at me almost as though challenging me to do something about it. I roll my eyes. “You think you’re wrapped around their finger, huh? Watch and learn, princess.”

ME: Did you use the cat emoji bc of Elle or are you the kind of person that regularly uses cat emojis??

I wait with my phone in my hands, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I watch the person on the other side appear to be at a loss. Those three dots pop up for a moment before disappearing again.

It happens again and again, and I finally decide to put my phone away instead of watching them struggle to make up their mind. There’s only about ten minutes left of the trip, anyway.

Another five pass before my phone vibrates. Giving Elle a pointed look, I take a look at the response.

UNK: ...so what if I use cat emojis?

UNK: they’re there to be used, you know. Maybe you should quit ignoring them and give them a chance. 😿

“Ha!” It takes a moment before I remember that I should try my best to not appear like a crazy woman. “See?” I whisper madly. “They’re practically begging me to keep chatting.”

ME: Wow.

ME: I feel like you took that very personally. Elle didn’t tell me that you’d be like this.

There’s another stop, a few people getting off but many more getting on. Most of them sit down without sparing me a glance. Only when they’ve all settled down and gotten lost in their conversations or phones do I allow myself to relax.

UNK: are you the kind of person that talks to their cat??

I give a startled chuckle, delighting in the distraction this conversation is allowing me. Before I can fire off a response, another text comes through, making me stifle a laugh.

UNK: 😼

Maybe it’s the silly conversation, or the fact that Elle has gotten to a position where she can rub her head against my leg. Maybe it’s the view outside, the late afternoon sun pouring down on the people outside, and me, watching the world through the bus window.

For the first time that I can remember since I cut my thread, life seems a bit more manageable.

I feel like I can breathe.

✂

Jimin can’t breathe.

Not with the way all of the members have crowded around him on the couch, Jin still munching on some chicken while he peers over Jimin’s shoulder.

“I liked that last text. It was a nice touch,” Yoongi croons from Jimin’s side. “Gotta stick to a theme.”

The others grunt in agreement, hardly noticing the absolute strangeness of the situation. Taehyung slings his arm around Jimin on the other side, never once looking away from Jimin’s phone screen. He hums to himself while they wait for those fated three dots to appear.

Jungkook’s neck is about to break from the way he’s craning it, sitting on the floor before Taehyung’s legs. It’s a miracle that he can see anything at all.

“Is she texting yet?” He asks, hissing as he rubs a sore spot on his neck. He gives up trying to see what’s going on, facing forward again. Hobi, sitting beside Taehyung, automatically reaches down and begins massaging the younger’s neck.

“No, not yet,” Hobi sighs. “I wonder what - OH SHE’S TEXTING!”

Everyone presses in closer to Jimin, the boy in question gritting his teeth with anticipation. “Do you think she suspects? Have I been too obvious?”

Jin produces another chicken leg from somewhere, offering a bite to Namjoon who doesn’t hesitate to chow down. “No, she doesn’t. You’ve been totally aloof.”

“Yeah, you’re good,” Namjoon says around his food.

Together, the seven of them stare at those three dots rippling across the screen. When they disappear for a moment, everyone groans. It doesn’t take long before they reappear, and suddenly a message appears.

“What does it say?!” Jungkook scrambles to his knees, struggling to get a good view.

Jimin groans, shouldering his way forward until he’s leaning in front of everyone. “Shh, let me actually read it.”

Jolie (Elle): Haha, touché. I feel a little weird texting an unknown number...do you have a name I could save you under? Or should I just settle for a cat emoji?

“...what do I do?” Jimin turns to face the others, a flicker of panic painting his features. “I can’t tell her that it’s actually me...she’ll quit talking to me!”

Yoongi shrugs, completely unbothered. “Just give her a fake name. Like, Jaemin or something. Close enough.”

“Ha! Yeah, do Jaemin. Reminds me of James Corden trying to say your name,” Jungkook cackles.

Jimin looks at the other members with big eyes, waiting for some other offer. Something better. Taehyung pats his shoulder.

“I know you hate lying but...I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

Sighing, Jimin types in a response. He holds up the phone for everyone to see, waiting for their grunts of approval before hitting send. A knock on the door has everyone except for Jin turning their heads.

“Don’t tell me you ordered something else,” Namjoon gripes. Jin just chuckles quietly, reappearing a few moments later with an armful of boxes. Jimin recognizes them immediately: it looks like an assortment of churros and other treats.

“Hyung,” Jungkook watches the procession with wide eyes. “What’s this?”

“Would you go grab the rest?” Jin asks instead of answering. Jungkook leaps to his feet, bounding toward the door where more treats await. His shouts of excitement drift back to the boys.

When everyone gives Jin an appalled look, he just shrugs his shoulders. “What? I figured that we’re going to be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable.”

✂

UNK: No, I won’t make you stoop so low as to use a cat emoji. Park Jaemin should work fine.

I nearly stumble down the steps of the bus as I make the mistake of pulling my phone out to see the latest response. Once Elle and I have made it safely to the sidewalk, I proceed to stare at my phone in utter horror.

Rereading that name again and again until I’m sure that I’m reading it correctly.

Why did it have to be such a similar name?

There’s a slight tremor to my hands as I try to come up with something to say. Saving the number, I take a deep breath. Elle watches me from the safety of my bag, mewling softly.

“Gimme a sec,” I sigh. “Is this some sort of cruel joke?” My mind is spinning too quickly to think clearly, so I pocket the infernal device and take a moment to orient myself. Heading down the street, I wait until I’ve made it a block before attempting to form a reply.

It would appear that my new friend is a little impatient. By the time I stop on the corner, there’s already another text waiting for me. The new contact name has me gritting my teeth, but I push past the initial shock that rocks me.

Park Jaemin 🙀: Unless you don’t like that name? I could always choose a different one.

“He’s a little...weird.” I glance down at Elle, who seems inclined to agree with me. “But nice, I think.” Mustering up all of my courage, I punch out a reply and send it before I can think twice about it.

ME: That’s fine. Jaemin it is. I just didn’t realize you were a guy? Elle always seemed wary of guys.

I set off down the street, finding it a bit different in the daylight than it was at night. That, and this time I’m not a hyperventilating mess. It doesn’t take long before I’m turning down an alley that I realize I’ve been seeing in my dreams lately, heading toward the tell-tale gray apartment with the warehouse attached to it.

There’s another text notification reaching my ears, but I ignore it for the moment. Knocking hard on the door, I wait to hear footsteps.

It takes a couple of attempts before a distant voice shouts, “Coming!” A few seconds later, the door is cracked open to reveal a disgruntled Christina.

She gives me a long look, recognition sparking in her eyes even as she looks entirely unimpressed by me. She eyes Elle, who stares right back at her.

“You know I don’t do refunds, right?”

There’s another text coming through, but I ignore it again. Instead I plaster on my best smile, which Christina sees right through.

“I know. That’s not why I’m here.” Glancing up and down the alley, I rub at my arms. Fighting off the sudden chill. “Mind if I come in?”

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[ferret-not-microwave]

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 5)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[Hey, y'all! I'm so sorry for not posting this series for a long time, I was flattened for the past 12 days by COVID-19. We have Cosette and Marius today, and I'm so glad that I am feeling better enough to write about them. Cheerio!]

Cosette:

• Is fed up of being considered dainty, fragile, weak and excessively nice, a bit of a pushover. She is anything but. Living with crappy foster parents don't really let you do that. She can stand up against bullshit with biting sarcasm if necessary. It's just that Cosette doesn't rise to the bait very easily, because she has trained herself to ignore battles which don't need her attention. But that doesn't mean that she needs to be protected all the time.

• Is sick of having to relate her childhood traumas in order to not be judged as being a privileged airhead. Cosette likes buying nice things. She likes fashion, and she has some habits from Catholic school, still. She spends a lot of money on her friends and loved ones. She is sunshiney and injects bougie humour and fun into meetings. That doesn't mean that she knows nothing about the shitty world, and that she doesn't actively try to make ethical choices in her consumer behaviour and social commitments. She really dislikes the "Ohhhhh" moment coming from someone judging her for her privilege when someone tells her story to them. Why presume that people are shitty for no reason, damnit?

• Is sick of being mistaken as straight. On one memorable Pride, she was called "straight passing". She dislikes the term immensely. She thinks that people do not have the liberty to immediately assume that she is heterosexual because Marius is her partner. Similarly, people do not get to assume her sexuality because she presents stereotypically femme.

• She feels insecure and uncomfortable when people fix too much attention on her in relation to someone else, as if to scrutinize her. It happened twice amongst the Amis, once when Marius introduced her as his crush for the first time, and once when they came to know that she and Eponine knew each other since childhood, and that Eponine's parents were her abusive foster parents. She likes it better if she were befriended for being herself.

• She feels a little frustrated that people didn't get her conflicting feelings towards Eponine. People immediately assumed that she forgave and forgot everything Eponine had done or said when they were children, in her "characteristically sweet way". Actually, the first time she saw Eponine, her fear reared its ugly head again and she almost ran out of the Musain. There was much dancing around Eponine (who seemed worn out and super uncomfortable as well) and it is only with Marius and Courfeyrac's help that Cosette could start a conversion with Eponine. She did it not be particularly forgiving (though she eventually forgave her anyway), but because she needed to leave her emotional baggage behind and move on.

• A large part of Cosette's forgiveness towards Eponine was fuelled by the knowledge of Eponine's own abuse at her parents' hands. As someone who had faced quite a bit of the same abuse, she needed to put her foot down. Cosette was extremely angry about it, and her anger made sure that Eponine could separate from her parents faster, and eventually get custody of her siblings.

• She hates, hates, hates it when people remind her that she's lucky to get an adoptive father like Valjean particularly after she has a row with him. Just because her foster parents were shitty doesn't mean that she cannot speak against some of Valjeans imperfections! And children often disagree with their parents. She doesn't need to be dampened with the idea that she should basically think Valjean to be perfect because of her past. She is fiercely loyal to Valjean, and doesn't need anyone to test that.

• Cosette is protective of Marius. No one gets to mow Marius over with judgements and snide comments. In fact, Marius found himself being not so much the butt of jokes anymore after Cosette teaches him to stand up for himself. At the same time, Cosette does not helicopter parent Marius. She does tease him within limits, and does not usually interfere when he has disagreements with the Amis. It is a fine balance which does exhaust her sometimes.

• Cosette can be mischievous, even impish. She can land punches (whether they hurt or not doesn't matter), ace paintball/mudslinging matches, play the best pranks on April Fool's Day and curse like a sailor if needed. She is especially proud of the wide-eyed look she still gets from some of the Amis at her antics. She can also get people out of trouble faster than you can say "bail".

Marius:

• Marius feels scared of being judged. It is really, really difficult to understand your own privilege when you come from a super rich, super bigoted family (read grandfather). He has taken lots of embarrassing knocks and call-outs every day till now, but he is learning, and learning fast. The Amis know, and for them he isn't some peripheral person anymore, but an integral part. But sometimes he wakes up with nightmares of being kicked out as a wokeboi and a fraud by the whole group. He often stumbles over his words because he panics that maybe what he is trying to say is problematic. It takes him months to take any initiative in the Amis because he suffers from imposter syndrome all the time.

• Marius hid all information about his favourites (he loves strawberry rosé macarons and silver needle tea, for instance) because he thought that he would be judged as a rich brat. Funnily, it was Ferre who had figured these out and was the first Amis to give him a small tea chest and a box of macarons as a birthday gift (followed closely by Courf and Jehan with a huge birthday party). It took time for Marius to understand that just because he got a bit panned for his political opinions the first time, it doesn't mean that the Amis hate him.

• Quite unlike popular belief, Marius and Ferre do get along very well. They share a lot of niche interests (poring over etymology dictionaries and having a love of museums and trivia nights). They did discuss that first "to be free" moment, and Marius had placed his request to be given more chances to undo his problematic stances. (There was also another "to be free" moment that had left Ferre stunned, but it's a them thing). It hurts Marius when people immediately think that he's probably annoying Ferre when they hang out.

• Marius is not stupid. Please. The whole idea people have that he is stupid because of his awkwardness and shyness is plain mean at times. No, he doesn't need to be talked to slowly, like talking to a child. Whenever he has the courage, he brings up a lot of valid points in Musain meetings. He is extremely resourceful in handling money and talks with boring rich people, and fundraisers have never been better without him. He is juggling a double Masters degree with internships and volunteer services, and picks up languages at the drop of a hat (including Elvish).

• Marius has also had that dangerous phase when, in a bid to be as radical as possible, he fell into trouble way too many times. Even the most even-tempered of them all (read Jehan) has outright cried in exasperation on finding Marius glaring at a policeman in a protest, promising to burn the place down with a flare if they didn't back off from hitting protestors. Marius has similarly taken punches and hits, and there was a time when Joly would hover around him to administer first aid as quickly as possible. It took Enj and R a whole day to explain to him the merits of self-preservation and that revolution today does not necessarily involve a militant loss of life.

• Marius has also that phase when he drove a college sophomore to tears with his radical speech. Aka attacking the heck out of the kid's problematic Facebook post. Cosette had to give him a talk. Marius is learning about how to be a zealous but kind activist every day.

[shadow--writer]

If You Knew my Story Word for Word, Had all of my History, Would You go Along with Someone Like Me?

2 dumbasses in love. That’s it. That’s my a/n (song over here)

Maeve x Lucas. Because I love you. 4.8k

CW: mentions of past abuse (Lucas and Maeve - gaslighting), 

@dela-png

She never really liked warm blustery days. 

Cursing, she held her basket close, hoping the eggs didn’t crack. Lucas was trying to make an apple apricot pie, both for her and to win the affections of Tehi. After the even worse great flour incident of a few days ago, he was determined to get her to like him. 

She ran through the grocery list in her head. Lucas had been in the middle of making the crust when they realized that he had run out of eggs, milk, and the fruit needed. You know, the major part of a fruit pie.

She sighed, massaging her temples as the wind made her stumble. Malory couldn’t call the guards today, she caught the middle of their rotation. The market in the South End was...interesting, to say the least. There was more theft due to poverty, so Lucio’s bright idea was to tighten security in the area instead of helping the people starving.

Nadia just hadn’t...gotten around to them yet. 

The system was...fucked, putting it lightly. After the shitshow that was Lucio’s reign, there was much to fix up and work on. 

Her being chased out of the market every other day due to false theft accusations being one of them. After the disaster that was Doctor 069’s trial, she didn’t have much trust in the legal system. Knowing her luck she’d be executed by the Praetor over theft. The old arena was already stained enough, she didn’t know why they couldn’t tear the eyesore down.

She rubbed her arms, looking through the dairy products for sale. Being a...pet of the Quaestor gave her rights to go into the coliseum to see those under. Blinking, she waved thoughts of bloodied people and plague eyes. 

She didn’t want to go back there, see the hurt on those peoples faces. She was punished for helping them, so eventually she just...stopped.

The Quaestor was a...fascinating thing. She wondered how they could sleep at night for what they did. All and all they felt...otherworldly. 

She groaned softly, placing a few coin in the palm of the farmer. Crimson cows always had the best milk, but they were banned from the city. She hid the jug under the eggs and flowers she bought for Lucas. Crimson cows were much bigger than the regular cow, milk and meat always bloodied red. It baked well though, making everything richer so it was worth the illicit dealings. 

“Good afternoon, thief.” She stiffened at the voice, trying to fight her annoyance. Please, not today. “Come to steal my stocks again?”

“I didn’t steal and you know it.” Damn she fell for the trap, again. Her pride smarted at each theft comment. Eventually people would believe it, and then where would it leave her? She could barely keep herself afloat without even having to pay rent. 

“Now, the guards certainly don’t know that, do they?” 

“Oh fuck off. They aren’t here to protect you today.”

“Mmm, so you're going to steal from me again, aren’t you?”

She breathed in sharply. “I am going to buy some fruit, upfront, and then I am going to leave.”

“For that little bat of yours?”

She scowled. “She was just hungry, and I paid after.”

“Stealing is stealing.” “It wasn’t stealing if I bought it. Just...let me get my ingredients for a pie and I’ll leave.”

“Baking a pie? The last one wasn’t bad enough?” She flushed at the thought. She wasted a lot of good fruit that day, her fingertips stained purple for a week. “Come to waste my hard earned spoils?”

She slammed her basket on his counter with a sour look. “I’ll have you know Lucas is baking it this time. And it’ll be fine.”

Malory paled at the mention of Lucas’ name. “H-He’s not with you, is he?”

…was that a stutter?

“Why do you ask? You’re not scared are you?” she teased, picking through the apples. 

“Anyone with good sense is scared of the beast.”

She lifted an eyebrow, placing enough for the fruit by his hand. She started placing apples in the basket, keeping them away from the bluebells. Her hair was falling out of her handkerchief, again. The front of her dress was splattered with flour, and she did look like she was helping. 

Reality was that she was trying to keep Jolie from sleeping in the flour. 

And failing, miserably. 

“Oh yes, because he is so scary,” she said with an eye roll, thinking of him sulking over Tehi. 

Malory’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t mock me. Just because he has been...subdued, for now, does not mean he isn’t dangerous.”

“Lucas? Dangerous? The only danger he poses is to himself.” Clumsy oaf ran face first into her bookshelf and almost knocked himself out. 

Twice. 

Granted, she did have a lot of bookshelves. 

“An ex gladiator is just that, a gladiator.” Malory shuddered. “I heard he beat a man within an inch of his life before Lucio stopped the fight. He’s a ticking time bomb.”

She paused, blood roaring in her ears. “Glad...iator?” she asked softly, setting an apricot down. “Lucas?”

Malory paused. “You do know about it, don’t you? How could you not? You are his partner and this is something everyone knows.” He paused. “And paired with what surrounds you…” his lips curled in judgment, she bristled under his look. “Well, people talk.”

“What I know and don’t know is none of your business,” she sniffed, stuffing another apricot in her basket. “He doesn’t have to tell me anything he doesn’t please to. I trust him.”

“You...truly, don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?!” she snapped, her gaze low and cold. 

“About the beast?”

“‘The beast’ can you be any more vague?” Even with his...dancing around, the name rang a bell. She huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “If you’re picking a fight with Lucas, don’t. It’s me you hate.”

“I may...dislike you.” She snorted, yeah that was rich. “But I don’t want you dating a murderer.”

“Lucas is not a murderer.”

“Killing people for sport sounds like murder to me.”

“What are you even going on about?!”

“Your little...dog, has quite a past, doesn’t he?”

“Lucas. His name is Lucas. Why am I even still talking to you!” She threw her hands in the air. “I paid, I got what I needed, I’m going to leave.” She snatched her basket up and turned around. 

“He was the Scourge’s replacement. After the escape. Before Lucio’s death. He was the executioner for a while. Don’t you think that’s something you should know, Deathling?”

She flinched, turning around and hauled him over his counter by his shirt. “You don’t get to call me that,” she snarled, Malory letting out a small choked noise. “You never get to call me that.”

“T-Touchy subject,” he breathed, face pale. 

“I will give you a choice. Shut up about Lucas, or I throw you into a canal, got it?”

He let out a laugh as she let him go. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

She sneered. “And so what if I am?”

Malory’s eyes softened, but his smug grin didn’t. “Just letting you know what you’re getting into.”

“This is his secret,” she muttered, smoothing her hair back as she glared at him. “This is for him to tell me. If he wanted to.”

“He never would. And then where would it leave you? Would you still trust him?”

“What he did or did not do in the past is of no concern to me, Malory. He is a good fucking person, and that is why I fell for him.”

“But this is a big secret to keep, don’t you think?”

“It’s none of your business, just as it is none of mine. And if he did those things, he would not have chosen to do so. I know him, he’s a kind person. Choosing to kill someone for the fun of it, is something he would never do.”

“But what if he did?”

“He wouldn’t.” But Malory’s words hit home, and the seed of doubt sprouted. What if it was true? What if he did?

No. No. This was Lucas. He sulked when a bat didn’t like him. He was dramatic and sweet. 

If he did do what Malory was saying, he wouldn’t have done it alone. He had to have been pushed to do it.

“Ask him yourself then,” Malory said with a smile, knowing he was getting to her. “Let’s see how your little sweetheart reacts.”

“He would never lay a hand on me,” she growled. “Ever. He wouldn’t hurt me. I should have your tongue for saying it.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Food for thought.”

“Leave him alone. It’s me you hate.”

“Hatred for you doesn’t mean I want to see him snap again. Those days were not pretty, and he was an animal.”

She snarled. “I’ll show you an animal if you don’t shut up.”

“Go home then. See what he does.”

“Fine. Maybe I will.” She hooked her basket under her arm again, stomping off. People chuckled as they watched her leave, her cheeks burning with the scrutiny and humiliation. 

The walk home was a blur, she only felt the burning warmth of rage and the seed of doubt and fear in her stomach. 

She didn’t know who to believe, it was hard seeing him in that light. 

But he had the scars of a gladiator. That’s what those were. 

She jogged up the stairs and into his house, tearing the handkerchief out of her hair and letting the locks fall around her shoulders as she slammed her basket down on the counter. 

He turned to look at her, a question on his lips. 

“Was it true.” A statement, not a question. Her chest heaved from her run. “Was what he said true?”

“What? Was what true?” Worry creased his brow as he put the rolling pin down. He wiped his hands on his apron as he moved closer to her. 

She breathed in sharply. “What Malory said.”

“Mal- what did he say to you? Did he hurt you?”

She swatted his hand away, staring into his eyes. He had kind eyes, open and clear.

“He didn’t hurt me. But is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Were you a gladiator in Lucio’s arena? The replacement for Scourge?”

His face fell, and all the colour drained from his cheeks. The reaction was all she needed to know. He was a terrible liar. 

He laughed, the sound strangled. “What? Me? He must be lying. Do I look like a gladiator to you?” His smile was forced, fear sinking into his eyes. His voice strained, like if she pushed it he’d snap.

It hurt. 

Him lying like this. He knew she knew, and yet he still lied. 

“You’re lying,” she said, hands shaking. “You’re lying to me.” He froze, smile still forced yet wavering. She moved forward, trying to stop her shaking. “Tell me the truth.”

“I am-”

“Batsaikhan,” she growled, pausing a few steps away from him. Her heels clicked when they came to a stop. “Tell. Me. The. Truth.”

Horror flooded his face, hands shaking as he reached for her. She slapped his hand away, keeping his gaze even as he looked away from her. “I don’t want to hear an excuse. You’re a really shitty liar.”

“But I’m-”

She breathed in sharply, blinking back her hurt. It hurt, knowing he was lying. It hurt knowing that he knew she knew and he still wouldn’t tell her himself. She just wanted it from him. Not Malory or any of the others. 

They would twist him, change and lie. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, rubbing her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. “I don’t want to hear it from Malory or anyone else in this fucking city.” Her chest heaved as a tear slipped past. She didn’t want to cry but she was so...angry. It was almost all she could feel. “I want to hear it from you.”

He was trying to make himself smaller, holding the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. “It’s true,” he whispered, hurt and palpable fear cracking his voice. “I did terrible things.”

“Lucas-”

He looked at her, the look in his eye making her back up a step. He flinched. “I’m a terrible person,” he murmured, looking at his hands. They curled into fists as he turned his head. 

Her expression softened into one of hurt and understanding. “You wouldn’t do it,” she said, taking one step, then two. “You wouldn’t make that choice yourself.”

“What if I did?” he asked, startling her into jumping back with the force of his words. Her heart raced, heat rising to her face with panic. “Maeve-”

She sniffed, covering her eyes. “I know you wouldn’t,” she whispered, trying to fight the doubt sprouting at the base of her stomach. “You wouldn’t. I...I don’t believe you would.”

“I’m a terrible person, Maeve.”

She flinched at the sound of her name in that tone of voice. So soft and hurt. So soft and broken. 

“No,” she murmured, looking back at him. “You’re not.” She breathed in, holding the breath as she moved closer to him. “You’re Lucas.” She paused. “No, Batsaikhan. And...you’re just...that. You’re not terrible. You’re sweet, you’re kind, you have a big heart.”

“I killed people.”

“So have I.”

He paused, staring at her with wounded eyes. Tears slipped down her cheeks, she knew her eyes would redden soon. “I know you didn’t want to,” she murmured, standing in front of him. “And I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Carving herself open. 

All for him.

“How do you know that?” he muttered, not meeting her eyes and shifting nervously. 

“I may not know a lot, but I know this.” She reached over to take his hand, gently opening it up to trace his palm. She kissed his fingertips, unraveling the bandages to trace the burns there. His breathing hitched audibly as she pressed her fingertips against his. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “The Lucas of now is different from the Lucas of then. And knowing the Lucas of then isn’t going to scare me away from the Lucas of now.”

“But what if the Lucas of then was terrible?”

“He couldn’t have been that bad, he did become the Lucas of now after all.”

“...you’re only here because you didn’t know,” he muttered, staring at her with wounded eyes. “And now that you do know it’s only a matter of time before you leave again.”

She stopped, letting his hand drop. Anger slowly bubbled up in her stomach. “Is that what you think this is?” she asked, her tone sharp. “You think I’d leave over this? After all the time we spent together?”

“Thumbelina-”

“No you’re going to listen to me,” she snapped, jutting a finger in his face. “Fuck you, Karimov. I just want to hear it from you. I’m not going anywhere.” Angry tears cut through her skin, stealing the starlight from her cheeks. “But I want you to stop...running from the issue.” She sniffed, swiping at her eyes. “I want to hear it from you. I don’t want any ‘I’m a terrible person’. I will decide that.”

“But-”

“No. You will fucking tell me so I can make that choice myself.” She rocked back onto her heels, pulling at her hair. “I know what it’s like to want to keep something secret, I know why you kept it from me. I’m not mad. I’m just...hurt. Giant, I like being around you. But I don’t want you to lie to my face about something I want to know.”

She breathed in, trying to calm her panic. “I don’t…” want Lucas to lie like he did. “...you’re a terrible liar. I can see right through you.”

“But what if you do leave?” he whispered, hunching in on himself. 

“Then that’s something I’d do for myself.”

“...” he sighed. “It was...it was a bad time.”

“...and?”

“Just bad. Bad people.”

“Lucas,” she murmured, reaching out to take his hand. The skin on his palm was rough under hers, years of hard labor and burn scars melting into his hands. “Please, I want to hear it from you.”

His gaze darted away from hers again, she squeezed his hand. “I was just...angry, all the time,” he murmured, a flush building across his face. There was a hardness in his eyes. “And if I wasn’t angry I was...numb. Tired. I wanted to see the trees again.”

He was shaking in her hand, she rubbed her thumb along his knuckles, keeping quiet. 

“I…didn’t want to hurt them, they didn’t deserve to die. But I did so maybe I deserve…everything. I don’t deserve you either. I don’t…I’m terrible, Thumbelina, I’m a terrible person. And I don’t…I don’t know why you still…want to be around me. I’m just going to drag you down with me.”

She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “See? I knew you didn’t want to. You aren’t that kind of person, darling. And you aren’t terrible.”

“But I hurt people. I did it and I was so numb and angry.”

“You were hurt. You didn’t want to.”

“I didn’t want to but I still did.”

“You had a reason.”

He paused. “Lucio…threatened my family. With…petty crimes.”

“So you did it to protect them.”

“What little I had left.”

“That’s more of a show of your character, Giant. Hurting someone for…the fun of it, is different than being forced into it. You didn’t have a choice.”

“I did have a choice! And I chose to kill people. I could…I could hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t make that choice.”

He wouldn’t look her in the eye, he looked so skittish, like he was ready to run. 

“People wanted to test their will and strength against me,” he whispered, clenching and unclenching his fist. He chuckled without humour. “I really was a beast.”

The word struck a chord within her. She knew it, heard it, saw it, smelled it.

But she kept quiet. 

“People were scared of me. Still are. I…deserve it. I’m not, good.”

“You don’t deserve any of that! You are good.”

“Maeve,” he snapped, ripping his hand from hers. She flinched, hands going up by her lips. He watched her back away, horror painting his face in dark colours. His eyes darkened as he fell into the role. “I hurt people for my own gain.” His voice was a low snarl, he was so tall. 

So tall.

Her nerves thrummed; ‘danger’ they seemed to scream at her. Hands, gloves, dark tone. I do it out of love, you’re just being selfish. It was her fault her fault her fault her fault her fault-

“Look, I’m even scaring you too,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. She let out a tiny sob, his façade cracking at the sound. He backed off, and before he looked away she saw flashes of anger and horror on his face. “I’m not good. Whatever good you saw in me is...a lie. I hurt people and I’m trying but it’s all people see in me. How can I change if people only see that?”

“I don’t,” she whispered, trembling. “I don’t see that. I don’t see any of it. I only see you.”

“But what if I’m a monster?”

“I can’t...I won’t believe that.”

He looked at her tear streaked face, fear barely hidden under her skin. “You should. I’m a monster. It’s only a matter of time before I-”

Her fingertips sparked, stomach bubbling. “You won’t. You aren’t like him. You are you. You are broken and awful. You feel like you’re beyond help and unlovable.” He flinched at the bluntness of her tone. “But I’m not going to leave. I made my choice.”

“Why won’t you leave? It’s not like I can offer you anything. I’m not of any worth to you.”

She snarled. “You make me happy. How is that not enough?”

“I want to be useful. I want to be good.”

“You are.”

“It was a lie,” he snapped, staring at her with shaking shoulders. “It’s all they’ll see so it’s all I can be.”

“Where is this coming from?” She stared at him, his eyes peeling back the layers of hurt to show a…

Child.

He was scared.

“You’re just going to leave,” he whispered. “Like everyone else.”

“Lucas-”

“So just get it over with. You already know I’m a beast. You know I’m terrible. So why are you still here?” he snapped. “Just go.”

“I’m not going to,” she snarled, balling her hands into fists. Fire licked at her palms. 

“Why not?” he said, voice rising to a yell. 

She trembled, saying what she never wanted to. She was no good. She was volatile and ugly and snared. She was a rat in a trap. She was a spark waiting for the breath of air to turn into a wildfire. 

She wasn’t good. 

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

He stopped, eyes going wide. He trembled, the words deathly soft. Softness that cut through her like winter cold. She almost gasped at the pain. 

“Do you?”

Her lips pulled back in a sneer as she took a step, then two. He moved away, watching her cry out of anger. She scrubbed at her face, jutting a finger in his. “You. Are a fucking. ASSHOLE,” she yelled, making him jump. “‘Do you?!’” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “YES I FUCKING DO.”

“Maeve-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snarled. “Oh I’m Lucas and I’m such a bad person. I act all tough in front of everyone but I’m scared.” His eyes were wide as saucers. She overstepped so many lines but she didn’t care. “I know you. You are a good fucking person. I can’t justify what you did but you did it out of desperation. People do things they regret when they are desperate.”

Her sob was choked and low, digging her palm into her eye as she gritted her teeth. “I’m fucked. Okay? I’ve been fucked for fucking years now. I haven’t...I was scared to open myself up to you. And now that I have you say ‘do you?’ what a fucking joke.”

She backed him up far enough that he ran into the sink, leaning back as she rose onto her tiptoes. “I trust you. I trust you with myself. I trust you with my heart, okay?! It’s yours and it’s always been yours. I’ve just been too stupid to see it. Fuck. Fuck you and fuck your ‘terrible person’ shtick. I’m fucking done with it.”

He went cross eyed at her finger. She flicked the tip of his nose. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Batsaikhan, that I’m not even scared. You make falling easy. You make it fun. You make it safe. I know you’ll be there for me when I reach the bottom. And if you don’t love me back that’s fine.”

She huffed, throwing her hair over one shoulder. “But I had love ruined for me. I’ve had it used against me, chaining me down and letting me drown. It’s been tainted and terrible. I wanted you gone because you scared me with how fast and how hard I was falling. It was scary and I wasn’t ready. But you…” she let out a low cry, shoulders shaking as she inhaled and exhaled in gasps. “You make it easy.”

“But I-”

“Yeah yeah. You’re ‘terrible’ so you’ve said. But if you’re a terrible person then I am unforgivable. If you don’t love me back that’s fine. It’s all fine.” She blinked, moving away from him. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling sick. “It’s fine. I know you…you don’t feel the same,” she whispered, choking down a tiny sob. “And that’s okay. It’s okay.” Her voice cracked. It wasn’t okay. She was a fucking liar. She wanted him to love her back. She was selfish and awful. 

She didn’t deserve him. 

“But never doubt that I love you. I know you’re...scared and you’re hurting. I can’t...possibly imagine what you went through, I can’t. But you’re...good. You’re lovely and kind. You make life seem...lighter and I love you. You’re so...bright and wonderful you make me feel like...I can be good too. That I can be good like you.”

Her hair fell into her face as she turned away from her, pain thrumming in her chest. She swayed, stumbling a little. “You don’t have to feel the same. I know...I’m not good. But you are. And you make me want to do...better. More. You make everything more...colourful. When I’m with you everything seems okay. Knowing your past won’t scare me away from your future.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in a shuddering breath. “I-I’ll just go. I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving to the door. It was all so quiet, swallowing her up and making her dizzy. 

He was right. Nicolas, was right. It was always her fault. Always. Her palms slowly cooled down as she sniffed again, trying to stop crying.

“Wait.” His voice was soft, his touch even more so. She let out a tiny sob at his hand against hers, heart lifting against her will. He didn’t love her. Why would he? She wasn’t good like he was. He was beautiful and good. 

She was unforgivable. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, as she turned around. He trembled, and she knew she was staring in the face of a scared child. Broken, scared, longing. 

Fragile. 

“I-I am terrible,” he sniffed, letting her arm go and backing away a step. 

She reached forward, tipping onto her toes as she cupped his cheek. He let out a small hiccup as he watched her with wide eyes. Her hands were cold against his skin, the warmth settling in her stomach as she ran the pad of her thumb against the freckles on his cheek. 

He stared for a moment, shuddering as he leaned into her touch.

“No, you’re good,” she murmured, tears spilling from her eyes again. “That’s my choice. I think you’re good. No, I know you are.”

He shook, melting into her hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavy and shuddery. 

She placed her other hand on his chest, kissing the tip of his nose. His heart was fluttering and fast under her touch.

He wrapped her up in a hug, almost lifting her up off the ground. He buried his face in her neck, she stiffened for a moment. 

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning back onto her heels. He tilted forward, hands on either side of her head to balance them. 

“I lo-lov...I love you,” he whispered, her skin erupting with goosebumps. 

He slowly moved his head so she could look at him, hair falling into his eyes. She brushed it back, laughing through her tears. He was crying now as well, face red. 

“D-Don’t laugh,” he sniffed as she swiped at his cheeks. She kissed the tip of his nose as she squished his face, leaning against the door. 

“You really need to get your head out of your ass,” she murmured, kissing his cheek. 

He huffed, sniffing quietly. “P-Please don’t...don’t leave me. I-I’m sorry, d-d-don’t go.” He was crying more now, brows soft. “I don’t want you t-t-to leave.”

She sobbed, wrapping her arms around him again, heel smacking the door. 

He whimpered, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, running her hands through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not again.

He blinked, his face splotchy now. His nose brushed hers as he kissed her with such reverence she almost whimpered. Her nails scratched his scalp lightly as he pressed her against the door, heels tapping the floor. He caged her in with hands on either side of her face, but kissed her so softly she couldn’t feel much else. 

“I love you,” he murmured softly, breath warm against her face. He kissed her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. He kissed her palm, staring at her with wounded eyes. Such soft affection, those big blue doe eyes of his. 

She wrapped her arms around him, slowly sliding down the door to the floor. Her dress made a soft ‘puff’ sound as she landed hard, dragging him with her. She rested his head in her lap, hair falling like a curtain between them. 

So soft it was. Soft affection, soft kisses, soft words.

The scars, the anger, the sun, the hurt, were marked along his skin. Her fingertips danced against all of them, taking him in. 

He was a good person who did bad things. 

And maybe...maybe, she was the same way. He made her feel like she was good. She wanted to be good like him. Then maybe she’d… 

He reached up to push some of her hair behind her ear. 

No, she didn’t need to earn his love. It wasn’t even about earning it. 

It was realizing she didn’t need to, because she had it anyway. 

“I love you.”

[aion-rsa]

Those Who Wish Me Dead Ending Explained

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This article contains Those Who Wish Me Dead spoilers. You can read our spoiler-free review here.

What’s on the piece of paper? Why exactly do Aidan Gillen and Nicholas Hoult want this Connor kid dead so badly? The ending of Taylor Sheridan’s Those Who Wish Me Dead is purposefully vague about what all this killing was about. But as a news crew approaches the young lad, played by Finn Little, it becomes clear he is going to tell a story that a lot of shadowy people wanted to keep hidden.

So what is that story and why did so many people have to die for it? The exact details remain hidden, but if we look at the whole structure of the movie, there are enough context clues to have a pretty good idea of what all the dying is for.

It goes back to the beginning of the film where we see Gillen’s Jack and Hoult’s Patrick pass themselves off as local gas and fire authorities in Florida, ingratiating themselves with the wife of an off-screen district attorney—he’s in the shower—and presumably killing both before planting the bomb. We aren’t shown that they physically murder the couple either, but writer-director Sheridan relies heavily on inference throughout the picture. Case in point: Jack and Patrick debating whether the latter needs to go change his shirt because there is a drop of blood on it. This strongly suggests that they killed everyone in the house, even before the explosion.

In the same vein, you can also hear a baby crying off-screen when Jack and Patrick first enter the DA’s home, which means when Patrick later tells Ethan (Jon Bernthal) he won’t kill him or his wife Allison (Medina Senghore) because she’s pregnant, he’s lying through his teeth. In fact, Jack picks going against the shooter at the end over Angelina Jolie’s Hannah because he’s furious about getting the whole Two-Face treatment with the fire to the face earlier in the movie, and he hopes Allison is holding the deer rifle in the woods.

Conveying motivation through implication applies to most of the characters in Those Who Wish Me Dead, and what they’re dying over. When Connor’s father Owen (Jake Weber) sees on the morning news in Jacksonville, Florida that the DA he worked for died “in a gas leak,” he immediately goes on the run with his son, getting farther than the men who wish him dead could have anticipated. And he gives us just enough to know why he is so scared with his confession to his son.

“I’m a forensic accountant,” Owen tells the boy, “which means I look for things that don’t add up. And I found some. The man I worked for, he was killed today because of what I found. But I still know it, which means they’re gonna come after me too.” When his son protests they should go to the police, Owen insists that the police protection didn’t save the DA. “The case implicates a lot of people, son, people with a lot to lose. Governors, congressmen. We can only trust people that we know.”

It’s a wise choice, although trusting the family that he knows is exactly how Jack and Patrick find the father and son so easily. After breaking into the accountant’s home, Patrick coolly spies a family photo of the pair in Montana with Uncle Ethan and Aunt Allison, thereby knowing they’re going to Soda Butte Survival School in Montana. The killers get there by plane long before Owen drives to his doom on the Lewis and Clark Trail.

Still, from what little Owen tells us, we can ascertain that he is an accountant who specialized in tracing money laundering, embezzlement, fraud, and the type of racketeering where organized crime and politics intersect. While we’re never told which politicians are implicated, it’s a fair bet that there are many in the Florida area caught with their hands in a violent, possibly treasonous cookiejar. One is even tempted to speculate it could involve a former president with a Floridian residence (notably Those Who Wish Me Dead was originally due out in 2020), but that is perhaps just imaginative thinking.

The full weight of the menace, however, is exemplified by Tyler Perry who has a tantalizing cameo as “Arthur,” the laconic heavy who makes an unexpected appearance in Montana to apply pressure on Jack and Patrick for failing to kill Connor in the car wreck. We don’t know a lot about Arthur, but the way he says “we promise absolutes, and unlikely is not an absolute” seems to suggest he’s a crime boss of the highest order.

Yet the way he doesn’t even want to be seen on the same road as Jack and Owen’s car—having Jack be dropped off in a parking lot and walk over an interstate for their roadside chat—suggests Arthur is someone more public than even that. Perhaps he works in a political office, or is at least a fixer hired by one. He provides a brutal form of clean-up and discretion to people in power, while exerting his own influence over them. “I will make them have the stomach for it,” Arthur tells Jack about the prospect of killing a lot more innocent people in this small Western town.

Thanks to Perry’s one scene, we also get a strong idea about why it would be so dangerous for people in power if even Connor with a blood-stained note can get in front of a media camera. He’s more than just a witness to his father’s murder, and a mouthpiece for what might be by then unsubstantiated claims from his dead old man. Arthur explains exactly what’s in that note for us.

“[Owen] was resourceful enough to make it all the way here,” says Arthur, “so assume he was resourceful enough to have duplicates of everything we retrieved from the DA’s office, and assume the duplicates are in the possession of that boy. Assume the worst case scenario, assume catastrophe, and act accordingly.”

While we know the boy is only carrying a note, the note could plausibly include the location of those duplicates, as well as the names of powerful politicians who are implicated. After all, it would take a very big name, at perhaps the highest level, to get Jolie’s Hannah so spooked. She went from trying to convince the child to spend the night in her watchtower to saying, “We’re leaving right now” after glancing at the paper. It appears Owen found the smoking gun, and now it’s firing directly at him and his.

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So young Owen getting on television and sharing his truth with the world will likely have profound implications, creating a situation that is, in Arthur’s words, “untenable” for those who wish the kid dead.

With that said, the truth is we never have to know the full details. The point is conveyed quickly and clearly with that first gas leak explosion in a rich suburban neighborhood: this is information of the most explosive nature. And in truth it is a MacGuffin that gets us into the movie’s conventional thrills about Jolie versus Hoult in a burning forest, with an axe between them.

Alfred Hitchcock popularized the term “MacGuffin,” to refer to the object or plot device which incites the tension and intrigue of a thriller. He also famously shrugged that the MacGuffin is nothing.

“The best MacGuffin is the one that 30 minutes after the movie is over, you have no idea what it was,” TCM host and novelist Eddie Muller once told us. “To me, that represents the essence of the MacGuffin. It’s like you remember everything that happens in the story, but you have no idea what it was that they were after. ‘Like, what was that again? I can’t remember!’”

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So while it’s fun to speculate just how damning that little piece of paper is, what you’ll probably really remember about Those Who Wish Me Dead, if anything, is Jolie’s silhouette surrounded by flames, or the tension of Allison blowing more than smoke in a couple of hapless killers’ faces.

The post Those Who Wish Me Dead Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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Life & Style, February 1 -- part 1 of 3

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Duchess Sarah Ferguson finally talks

Page 1: Photo Flash -- Emma Roberts introduces the world to her son Rhodes Robert Hedlund Page 2: Contents

Page 6: Angelina Jolie may be one of the most sought-after actresses in Hollywood but with six kids at home there's been little time for romance -- she hasn't had a meaningful romance since she split from Brad Pitt and she's been introduced to a few guys and had a handful of dinners but it never went anywhere not that she's in any rush to put herself out there again because Brad didn't just break her heart, he shattered it and it will take a real leap of faith for her to trust someone again -- Angie's entire life revolves around the kids, taking them shopping, making sure they do their schoolwork and when she's not with them she's liaising with her legal team about the custody battle and pouring over her options and how to get the upper hand on Brad -- it's made for an isolating experience and she has very little in the way of a social life and very few celebrity friends and other than the children she doesn't really have anyone else Page 7: Shia LaBeouf has split from Margaret Qualley amid his sexual assault lawsuit -- Margaret broke things off with him to save her own career because it's not a good look to associate with an alleged abuser -- Hollywood has turned its back on Shia too as he was removed from ads for his new movie Pieces of a Woman and fired from the upcoming film Don't Worry Darling and Shia's worried that he'll never work again as producers are avoiding his calls and distancing themselves from him -- he says he does want to get better and says he's going back to rehab -- Shia's been on a slippery slope of self-destruction but after Margaret dumped him he hit an all-time low * Throwback! Matthew McConaughey scored a trophy for Little Mr. Texas 1977 * Biggest Spenders of the Week -- Trevor Noah, Carrie Underwood, Dwayne Johnson, Kourtney Kardashian Page 8: Kylie Jenner recently went on an unfollowing spree whittling down the number of Instagram accounts that she keeps up with to just 28 -- most of her family members including Brody Jenner and Brandon Jenner made the cut along with baby daddy Travis Scott and Scott Disick but close pals like Sofia Richie did not -- Scott is like a brother to Kylie and since there's still a little drama with him and Sofia after their split Kylie decided to make a clean break from her -- the older Kylie gets the more she really only wants to surround herself with family because she's been burned so many times by her so-called friends * Debra Messing is throwing her hat in the ring after it was announced that Nicole Kidman is in talks to portray Lucille Ball in an upcoming biopic -- written and directed by Aaron Sorkin the film focuses on the I Love Lucy star's tumultuous 20-year marriage to Desi Arnaz who will reportedly be played by Javier Bardem -- Debra's been telling everyone that she's the perfect choice for the part because not only is she a redhead but she's also played Lucy before on TV and this is the role of a lifetime and Debra wants it bad -- there's just one problem: Nicole has a Hollywood pedigree that Debra simply can't match and Aaron doesn't have anything against Debra but he insists he wants a big movie star like Nicole attached to the project, not some sitcom star Page 10: The Week in Photos -- The Real Housewives of Orange County stars Shannon Storms Beador, Elizabeth Lyn Vargas, Braunwyn Windham-Burke, Emily Simpson, Gina Kirschenheiter and Kelly Dodd partied it up in paradise Page 11: Demi Lovato showed off her freshly cut and dyed pink pixie cut, Selling Sunset's Christine Quinn struck a sexy pose at a photo shoot for Cosmopolitan magazine Page 12: Demi Moore made friends with a sloth, Molly Sims and husband Scott Stuber threw their son Grey a superhero-themed birthday bash, Jennifer Lopez while paddleboarding in Turks and Caicos Page 13: Wilmer Valderrama rolled up onto the set of The Kelly Clarkson Show in a vintage 1967 Ford Mustang

(continued)

[charmed-asylum]

🔪Midnight Desire🔪

Midnight Desire, part one

Summery:  A group of seniors simple night of drinking and partying at their local grocery store. Turns for the worst when they realize they are lock in with something far more dangerous then they ever imagine

Declaimer: Midnight Desire has a few curse words and hints at some abuse. This is my very first story I am posting onto tumblr so please be kind give it a glance. Also my sweet lovers I do have dyslexia so for me to jump the head 1st and do this is a big deal for grammar might be a bit off.  I promise you a good ride from beginning to end. So buckle up and enjoy the ride. - xoxo Charmed- Asylum 

tagged: @weapinggwillowss​ @strangerfictions​

wanna be tagged let me know. wanna tell me i suck heck let me know. 

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Fire alarm sound police sirens heard off in the distance.  The noise  of such importance however is muffed from the sound of a soft cry, crying for help . Nothing can break this cry , it plead can break glass hurt even the biggest monsters. Where is this cry comes from this dark cool winter night.  As the cry becomes loud so loud that it more a scream  a bloody hand comes out of a chained cellar door.

24 Hours Earlier

Beep beep. A hand lounges out the bed and press the snooze button, old Hello Kitty stickers cover, alarm clock. Slowly getting up. A young girl around 16 with golden brown beginning of October soft skin with matching midnight sky eyes and short curly golden honey brown hair that came up to her chin.While she could ever tell from looking into a mirror her beauty would make anyone want to stop and give a second glance. A few minutes she mumble into the pillow. As the time slowly past she finally decide to get up.  Her eyes were closed as she slumped forward still in deep sleep went across the hall to the bathroom. Another girl tall with fair skin long store bought blonde hair about  18 came from behind and rushes into the bathroom before other girl can realize what was happening.  Slammed the door in her face. Upset. The girl starts knocking on the door full of rage. 

" Cora come on. I got up first. Let me in! You take forever" she said banging at the door with all her might .

 An older man in his late 40s advantage build with ash brown hair  came from  behind and quietly watch the young girl in her old Queens T shirt attacking the door like a punching bag. A smirk appears .  Music start blasting from inside the bathroom. 

" Good morning,  sweetie. Don’t worry  just come use our bathroom. Mom done and I just need to finish getting dressed Jolie" the man says smiling at her with his hand gently place on upper backside. Looking back at the door pissed she kicks the door one last time as hard as she could and follows him to the other bathroom.  As she closed the door to get ready she sees him sitting on the bed in a still daze just looking at her with a jester grind.  She glanced back at herself she never felt pretty even though her mom told her time and again she was. She had freckles across face that was a bit closer to her long lashes that blink across  she never worn makeup so her face remain bare. She always wishes she had more of Cora beauty the ones some girls are born with ones that everyone has a picture of ones that they use to paint a picture or create another barbie after. Her hair drop in front of her face. Ripped jeans that sits slightly below her waist that went with Velvet Underground t shirt that drop over her mom old denim jacket. Satisfied with what she was wearing she decided it was best to face the music and start her day.  She peak around before walking out ready to get another day over with. 

" Jolie how was your sleep last night" her mom asked. She was a bit younger than the man with a face that belongs in a museum by itself. With tired eyes  she came over and kiss Jolie on  the forehead. Smiling at her. Jolie says nothing and grab a piece of bacon and sit down on a wooden stool by the kitchen. 

The older girl skips down the stairs, pushing into Jolie causing her to spill her orange juice. Jolie looks up at the girl then starts to pick up the broken glass. The man comes from behind  her holds her back gently for a minute before helping with broken glass. Looking up with eyes that burn with a blue fire. 

" Cora it's been almost a year. You need to stop acting like a  fucking baby. Be nice to Jolie she your baby sister " he says firmly. 

Cora rolls her eyes and smirks at him. " Not my fault the loser. Does not pay attention to me or her surrounds. It’s stepsister by the way we are not related" Cora said while taking a bite out of an apple. Jolie gets up and throw the rest of broken glass in the trash. " Thanks. But it's fine. Mom how are you this morning. Take your pills" Jolie said pretending Cora said nothing.

 A gentle kiddish like laugh left her mom small plump lips as played with her curls between her white manicure nails. Kissing her cheek as she walked passed her. " I'm fine. Jojo Stop worrying about me. I’m the sick one not you. You need to be like your sister and start….. You not always guaranteed a tomorrow, Jolie Wellstone" she stops and looks at Cora putting makeup on. " You need to socialize not staying here. Maybe you should do something with Cora" she says looking at Jolie as she drinking a cup of hot green  tea. 

Jo glance at Cora as she finished her face. Thinking of other things she wants to do then do that. So far her list has living the zombie apocalypse and eating vegan food. 

A car outside honk, BEEP. Not missing a beat ,Cora excited to end this charade bounces up and rushes for the door. Jo watched Cora from the window to get a better look outside to the red convertible. A guy that looks like he came out every cliche John Hughes movie was driving while another guy was in the back smoking weed. Cora hops in the front and the guy grabs at her perfect 40C boobs and starting to make out with her before driving off. God I hate it here Looking back at the stock photo picture perfect couple she slug back into the chair and plays with her tea bag with her spoon. The man watches her as she slipped into her own thoughts then looks at mom concern. 

" Richard being so good to us. I know you understand but. ...Eventually he and Cora will be your family, Jojo. She like us not used to this. You just need to find something" mom says holding Richard hand tight. She hated when her mom use her name worst when she used her nickname. Jo looks at him then looks away back at her cup.

" I try on the behalf of the both of us, mom. It's been some really good months here. Don't want you ups..." a bus horn beeps. Saved by the bell she thought to herself.

Grabbing her bag and lunch she kiss both of them on the forehead and goes out to start her day. She was glad to leave she hated lying to her. But knowing mom she knows she already knows she always know Jo thought to herself.

 The bus is basically a collection of the body snatchers. It was an oddball of folks. The bus crew. Jolie was nothing like Cora at less not here. She was lonely and  no one could give two cents who, Jolie Wellstone was. Best way she found herself making sense of this feeling was like her birthday, it is a month that millions others she share with but  don't know. Weird way of thinking yes. But that's how she was brought up how her mom and dad taught her to be like. Only other group she talks was groups she put with because of  class. This week Ivy, Kyle, Robinson. 

School for Jolie was different since she moved . She use to jump early before the alarm go talk to her many friends give everyone a smile and high five in the hallways. She wasn't alone but ever since Richard came into her and her moms life it all she knew now. She use to be more than just a piece of space moving from classroom to classroom. Now and days Jo basically rush to class answer the questions the teacher asks right in her head.  Only once she got it wrong 5th grade health class,the human brain can read up to 1,000 words per minute . 

Lunch use to be full with laughter as she made her friends spill their milk and juice out there noise or she talk up anyone with a smile to sign her newest protest of the week. Now lunch was a time she spent by herself in the bathroom or on brave days outside by the basketball courts. She like it there because eight of ten times she would see Garrett . Nothing more then her high school crush. He had a surfer tan that was just perfect even though it was never above 60 degrees  6’5 tall glass of yummy with matching  gorgeous summer sky blue eyes and a voice that all alone made you explode.  You all had one why not to him she always says as she goes through his iBook page . Checking like it was a daily ritual. Still single. Thank you baby Jesus yes. 

They had four classes together including lunch. He was older but same age as Cora,18. Four had became her magic number so far. 4.  Four on the amount of times they talk or was close. First day bump into him , put on his team in gym, ask for a pen, and passing English Lit chapter 7 test to him. While Jo was a sophomore she had all senior classes. Something she hated  until she saw Garrett for the first time.  

Jo was a loner and sadly he was too. However, for him it was by choice. He was better at hiding it but she knew even though they never really talk outside of those four times in her months of being stuck in this hellhole. Her Winston to her Holmes. Her moon to her stars. That magic number would be something of the past after today. Today was different. It was the second to last class study hall in the library, also with Garrett and one of her favorite class. What can ever be better than reading books, doing homework, and  looking at Garrett as he had his feet kicked up on the table smoking a cigarette playing with his lighter and no care. 

Jo was simply looking at the black and white checkered floor walking to class when she saw Fred, Mr. John Hughes  and Farrah making out, Cora’s bestie and boyfriend. She knew she should've left but she couldn't  help herself but get a quick look and see. Creeping in the shadows like a ninja.  Part of her wanted to watch see what was happening out of concern. She might of had a very strong dislike of Cora , still cared. Wasn’t that she hated her just there were a lot of things she would hope happen before she admit it. Going down the list  like starve to death or god forbid not be able to see her mom, or Garrett again. The root to all her evils. Caring about others before herself. The bell rings. Being late or being caught. Very hard decision Jo turns around and bumps right into Fred . Caught red hand. 

She grabbed her things tried to make a break for it. Fred being Mr. I’m a meathead and press 450 easy was able to stop her in no time. 

" Macy right your Cora new step  sister" he says holding onto Jo bag strap. Looking at up into his storm gray eyes Jo nods. 

" It's kinda not Macy though but that's fine " Jo says trying not to stress sweat. She never spoke to him she got a few looks from his when he would pick or drop Cora off. Or when he came by one of the first days she and her mom move here and Richard had a little barbecue for them.  He does not say a word just brings himself close to her still holding onto her bag.His eyes could turn her to stone that how intense it felt What was going on between the two was nothing close to any good tension but more  like they were about to have a staring contest. He looks her once over and smile. 

 " I actually was worried seeing you  watching me until I realize who you are, Macy. Did it turn you on watching me.Like the little holy mary virgin you are ” he stops and twist her curl that dropped down into her face with his finger “That was her doing . I stop it as soon as it  started to happen. So no word right " he says in a very very serious but creepy tone his finger still twisting her curl. 

Feeling her ten seconds was up Jo nod and bolted to class without a word. Busting right into Garrett strong define chest, he held tight to her small figure a bit tight as she almost fell. He glanced back to where she came from then back down at her. That one touch almost sent her sent her places she only went to when she was alone in her room or in her dreams. She bit corner of her bottom left side of her lip as she mouth sorry and ran off embarrassed.

 After that touch by heaven moment Jo spent the rest of her day hiding from the world.  She even decided to walk the 12 minutes walk home in hops she would not bump into Fred or Garrett. Today word be bad luck Jo Jo she said to herself as she continued her walk home. The name her dad use to call her. Everyone can call her Jolie even Jo but no one but him use to call her Jo Jo that was his and his alone.

Her Mom came home from work 5 ish beat. Just in time for their alone time, watching the news and Family Feud for an hour or so. Then by 7  she would play house wife for Richard. Something she never did before. 

" It's Friday .Do you have any plans? Me and Ricky are going to the doctors then a party. Fun uh. What abo-..." her convention was interrupted by the Cora and Richard arguing in the next room. 

Which for some reason still gets her startled but for Jo it was the new normal. She and her mom never was as vocal as they was but after the fifth scream match it shock value lesson . Cora lungs her bag on the floor and stomps up stairs. Richard loosens his tie and un bottom a few bottoms from his shirt walk into the living room, where Jo and mom was at.  Watching the real Family Feud in front of them. Kissing both of them on the forehead. He pushes his way between Jo and her mom putting one arm tight around Jo shoulder. And like a switch of the light her mom got up to mostly likely continue her housewife duties. Jo never understand why she did it. She never did that before but she was young. She could not remember how much time past when Richard stop talking to her and they got up to do something. 

She had to get away from him as far as she could. Walking pass Cora’s bedroom door. She peeks in like the weirdo she is to see if Cora was hot gluing her face on. Covering the evil witch that she was. Why a witch easy because she can make everyone foul that she actually nice. Nope. Just on the phone talking. As she started to walk pass. She stops and turns around back into the lion dean.

"Cora we need to talk" she said blunty. Why What uh. The simple thoughts started flashing in her mind. Cora chewing on gum rolls her eyes and continue to talk on the phone as if Jolie said nothing. Same thing she did earlier.

 " I lost my dad just like you lost your mom and brother only difference is you still have time with your dad. I lost mine young and found out I'm losing my mom all”  Jo stops and looks away hiding her tears" I found out the same time….. You stay here. I left my life. I'm going to be stuck here. You got lucky always lucky. You leave in a few months. Everyday I'm alone. Because at the end of the day. I got the dang short stick. Never nothing I want. You might hate me well I do sometimes too. But I still care about you and... Richard, always will. Just like my mom does. Can you at least fake it. Then when she gone you can go back to whatever this is" Jo stops. She hated talking about any of this. Her father, mom, the future, her path. But she was tired of it. Sick. Jolie decides not to wait for Cora response. Not this time. Later maybe but not now. Also she had to pee. 

Dinner was as normal as abnormal it always was. Eating her corn, " So dad. Can I get a 50 I’m going out with the squad to" Cora starts to say to Richard.

 Richard devouring his stake looks at her then at mom. " No way. It's dinner time. Family time. Your n" he starts to say cutting Cora off. Mom feeling and seeing the same overdone clip cuts in. 

" Honey..... so Cora what are you plans with your gang  " she says trying to sound hip. Jo looks at her and smiles at herself. There it goes. There where I got all my social traits from. Richard was of course was talking to himself attack the stake. Which from the look of it the plate was really the loser. Poor plate. 

Cora mad looks at Jo. " Daddy. Me and lo- Jolie talk. She new and being such a nice person I am I bringing her to the homecoming game then to the movies afterwards. Starting a new leaf. Which is why I need the money daddo. Also we will be back by 2 ish" Cora says looking at Jo. Smart move using the socially awkward girl to get what you want Jo thought to herself as she looked down at her food. 

Mom excited smiles. "Really oh my shit balls. I’m so gosh darn happy. See Jolie. Of course. Your dad be glad to. Ricky. It gives us some alone time,after the party. HUH . Give Jo some money. And  Jo remember the rules. And 1 am Cora. No more than that not even a second" mom says getting up grabbing her plate. What about board game night we was gonna play Trouble she thought to myself watching her mom getting all the dirty plates.  Richard smile and waits till  mom leaves. 

" Cora, don't do ANYTHING to hurt her. Only reason you're going is her" he says gulping rest of  his Budweiser. Cora smirks at his threat and rolls her eyes and looks at Jo.

 "They are like so gonna be here soon. REMEMBER so hurry up....and don't forget the cash" Cora says with a plastic Barbie smile and storms off. Jo slowly looks at Richard still gulping down rest of his Budweiser.  As she starts to leave Richard grab tight to Jo tiny wrist. " Have fun. Baby . This night ...will be one you will never forget. Here. Take the money. Tell the coach I said hi" he says to Jo with a smooth demeanor one he did not have seconds ago . Numb by the feeling. Jo simply smiles and leave. 

She fumbles up to grab her things. Nothing much: her keys or janitor as she calls it, her wallet, lighter for Cora because she always losing hers and asking. A few books no less than three. Two normal and a color book. Pens and markers. Gum. Tissues. And charger. All stuff with way to much more crap in her old backpack cover in bumper stickers and buttons. 

Mom was down stairs taking pictures like it was a senior prom. Memory She always said before she would go over overboard with it. Ok not this time but for the most of the time. She goes over over board. Cora was enjoying every second of it. Posing and laughing like she was going to be cover of Seventeen .

 " Come down Jolie two pictures that's all then you can go " mom says. Jo stand by Cora and waited. click click. And one selfie of all three on mom's phone. Simple kiss on the check and wait let me email this to you Jolie second. Mom hold her close. “Thanks Jolie. We both need this. Love You sweetie” she said then wave goodbye. Jo hold her tight and whisper I love you before leaving. 

Cora was more than excited minus Jo was coming. In the car were the same three people as this morning . Jo walks slowly behind her nervous praying to baby Jesus. There was no one drunk and or cops would pull them over because of drunken foul . Newspaper reads poor loser dies when mom force her to socialize with others 

" Hey dumb shit let's go" Cora says sitting in the passenger seat. Jo looks back and wave goodbye once more. “ You won't believe how I got out. This space cake actually help me. And got cash. Was able to even score more than what I ask. Gonna have to bring my little pet often" Cora says laughing putting more of blood red lipstick on. A boy with a bad case of twitch looks at Jo like a glass of water in the desert.

 " So you visiting or something"he says looking at Jo.

 " No actually I been living her with Cora for months now. Hi name Jolie but you can call me Jo ”  Jo says trying not to give off the you smell like yucky weed face. He smiles and look at the girl sitting next to him, Farrah aka bestie who made out with you know who. She had black hair blue eyes look as perfect as Cora did.  Cora gets up from her seat and turn around. " Does anyone have like cigs or liquor on them. Babysitting lil dumbo here. Forgot to grab out daddy stash" Cora said. 

Jo look at everyone as no one offer her anything. " I got pop and some matches"  says like a silly head. The boy deadpans her then starts to bust out laughing. Pointing at her crying like he was Banzai from the Lion King .

 " I....I....I..Oh I like her. What is she like 2 and retarded. Pop and....and matches" he says giggling to himself. Fred turns around and curse at himself. " How we gonna have fun at a game with no fucking stuff" he says. Cora looks and whispers to him.Fred looks out to the road and makes a sharp turns around. 

After a few minutes pass. They pull up to an old grocery market in the center of the town. It late, deserted. Snow was falling gently like the beginning of a Christmas movie. Something that caught Jo eye so she did not realize it at first what was happening. Fred exchanges some looks at everyone and grab a flashlight got out and started to walk  towards the store. Follow by Farrah and Lex, the boy that was differently high. Cora was left behind checking herself once again. Jo rocking back and forth.

 " Cora Cora we made a wrong turn. We are not by the school anymore. What are we doing here. Mom and Richard are going to be worried. What happens if they stop by and we are not there…. Lord cheese crackers. That's it I’m texting her" Jo says stumbling around her bag freaking out. Cora making a fish look glancing in the mirror to see Jo still looking for her phone.

 " So you want to look  and act like a baby. Baby. Well congrats you are top of that list. Hey stop. We already heard the game gonna suck. Like we are gonna win and blah blah. Same thing every year. We already made new plans before we left. So either you suck it up and come in or stay out here in the cold till we come back"she says getting up and leaving Jo speechless. 

Jo watched as Cora catwalk in the store in the freezing cold in her high heels and small pink Michcal Kors jacket . Her phone in her hand she starts to text her mom.  She stops mid way texting her mom to see the pictures from earlier her mom sent her.  A long struggle Cora put her though. I’m not a baby. Just ... Okay I'm a baby. One that does not mind being the helper and loner. I bet Garrett would thinks that be fine. If he knew me. They playing a joke I just wait out here. I show who a baby Jo whisper to herself looking  out to the empty roads. Laying down in the back Jo looks up at the stars. Passing time till they come back out. It was quite. Only thing you could hear was the sound of the lights. Light of the street lights, neon or store lights. Then the cold breeze. Cold very cold breeze. She slowly gets up after a while when she realize she was all alone.

 Looking around again. She stops. Fudge It she pouts to herself.  Start to walk inside. See what was taking so long. The front of the store was locked . Chains and chains oh wait some more locked chains. Jo tried to look through but she could only see the outline of what looks to be a person. Jo following to the back to see a door with a rock keeping it open.

It looked like it was one of those vintage out a magazine stores. She came with her mom a few times but her mom prefer the one town over more populated and better selections.  Following the noise she heard laughter and arguments. Walking closer she sees a figure talking to Fred. Cora lending across closer to Fred but in a mid distance as she was waiting for her call. Farrah and Lex was smoking giggling at each other stupidity. Lex of course was the first to realize they weren't alone anymore. He strung his head to Fred and then he stop giggling.

 Screaming from afar it sound like mumbling. Lex closer smiles and says" Cops outside. Girlie" he says chuckling at Jo. Shaking her head no she looks around then back at him .

 " Uh....No. Just. No" Jo says. 

Fred strugs. " So you finally decided to come in we were betting. I guess we are technically all wrong. Cora and I said never, Lex said ten minutes, Farrah had no faith in you and said a second" Fred stops and laugh. Looking at his watch " 1 hour and 49 minutes. What were you doing ? It's freaking cold as ice breaks out there " Fred says with a devilish grin. 

The figure behind them upset throw it hands up  rushes off between the allies. 

" What is going on is this a joke" Jo says looking at Cora. Cora rolls her eyes " We are seniors in a boring ass hick town. We wanted to do something legendary so why not sneak into the town old ass market and party to dawn. Think of it as a senior prank. Look we did a nice thing. You are our  like well witness. The person that gets to spread it around and be the undergrad that was apart of history"Cora says proud of herself. 

 Jo shock not only by the coldness of emotions but the fact she was even numb by the blow. " I'm not getting in trouble. Why should I....anyway we can get caught. Trouble. I can't do trouble. I am not built for that . NO WAY JOSE I'm out where the nearest bus towards home or taxi" Jo says starting to go back outside looking at my phone for service. 

They tried to stop her reason with her best a couple of drunk and high teenagers could do.  Fred piss came from behind her grabs her collar of her shirt and pull her back. Jo clumsy stumbles back bumping her head against a rack  stack of photo chips  .  

An Hour Later 

 Jo woke up still a bit dizzy from the fall ice on her forehead laying on a stack of old Sunday newspaper. She holds the ice closer to the back of her head looks up. Fred was talking to Cora. Cora looks royalty piss like worse then the time Jo accidentally slipped paint on her expense Gucci shoes and Richard had to hold Cora back from killing Jo. Fred look back to see Jo walks to her with Lex.

 " Look. Kitten. You would mess up things. We are not doing anything wrong. Party till game ends clean up then leave. No ones out there everything close. So stay here like a good baby . And be grateful we are nice to a loser like you. You got it" he says with a mean tone pointing into her chest. Jo looks at him then glance at everyone else. Nothing. Empty. Still no figure. Jo shakes her head yes. Still feeling the pain with each nod. What could she do say. She was not tough brave. She was a baby.

Cora walk back with the figure. It walked passed everyone till it got to Jo. She could not tell it close arm distance to see who it was. Garrett. Shock and piss. And if Jo was not so dizzy from the hit him coming this close to her would have made pass out from all the excitement in going on in her body.  " I can't lose this job. You got till midnight. Then we are FUCKING though. Go get drunk in the parking lot all I care" he says looking back at the group pissed. He stops and glance at Jo. His eyes shift from pissed to concern.  Jo shock starts to open her mouth to say something but before anything he leaves once again.

 Fred rolls his eyes and brush it off as what's ever. Drunk now he grabs Cora and start to dance  with her to Lex mp3 player . They spend some more time drinking and smoking around the store. Jo sat still on the floor, glancing to the back a few times to see if he comes back.  After a while she was pulled back into reality and force to dance with Farrah. Who was as slutty as a video vixen. As time passed they either left to explore or grab some munchies aka find somewhere to make out . Jo decided to make the best of things and found a quiet spot closer to the vents with a cool  breeze. Reading one of her books in her zone her space. She stops mid paragraph mid word  death . There was something cutting her breeze.

 " You mine I chill here with you. Everyone hooking up and I'm not in the mood to smoke. Been trying to quite a few months ago the huh the smoking" a voice says. Jo shakes her head no looking at the page. Pain was not as intense but annoying . She looks up to see Garrett standing there. He looks down at you with his drop dead smile and glitter blue eyes piercing back at you. Garrett sits down and looks at the book Jo was reading, " Good book. So much irony. Jo is that your real name" he says still holding the book in his big marvel  hands. Jo shakes her head no. Surprise not only he knew her name but it being his first question " Jolie. Its huh Jolie. Most people call me Jo. Before you ask kinda. My dad  used to call me Jo Jo. Why" she says trying to default all her butterflies away.

 Garrett smiles a bit bigger. He looked away for a second then back to her. She was mesmerized at his face eye darted to his pink lips. GOD THOSE KISS READY LIPS. " Jolie. That's pretty beautiful . Fits you more then Jo. Mind I call you that Jolie not Jo. I seen you around. I think we got classes together. How your head" he says looking up at her head. Jo slowly touches it wincing at the pain. 

 " Gym, English lit, and something else" he stops he was closer to her and takes her bag while she wasn't paying attention. Smiling with such charm he starts going though. " Running away huh. That never helps anything, Jolie" he says playfully. Jo smiles iffy about the name but he sure changing that" I’m not runway no more. Or at least NOT now. That's to help me remember a reason to stay. Can't believe even you " she says scratching back of her ear. She stops and look at him. Garrett smiles and goes through her bag not fully pay attention.

 " Well I’m happy. You would have kept me alone with these drunk horny retards. Dang. Jolie got a lot of stuff.  Cool stuff. Wait why the keys and fake tattoos. No nope these must have a story" he says looking through the fake tattoos. Jo smiles. " Dad said more keys you have the more opportunities you have. Now I’m pushing endless. A lot of them it's like endless stories.Ideas” Jo says trying not to blush. 

He scoop a bit closer still looking through her things. His dirty blonde hair was the perfect blend of messy with a purpose. Match with a scent that always drove her crazy it was a mixture of lumber wood and sex appeal. She has been close to him but mostly back of his head in class or behind him in gym class. Never out of class never him coming to her. Was it that he was bored and she seems easy.  Or was he really put on babysitting duties. She wasn't sure she really wasn't. But for a quick second before it clicks into reality she just decided to enjoy it. Garrett look up to speak, interrupting Jo inner thoughts. 

" Don't see any pictures of your boyfriend how come. Or girl-" Jo interrupts him " Boyfriend. BOYS. MEN. I mean I'm single" she says looking at him  as he took out a pop and a bag of chips. He glances at her for her approval. Nodding. " My turn. More of a statement. You don't have to baby me. Or whatever they have you doing. And I'm not that type. That take you against some canned food or on the cold ass floor. I'm sure you can understand" Jo said looking at him. He freezes with sour cream and onion flavor chips in his hand and stuff in his mouth. Chewing slowly he just look at her confused . Clearing her throat. " I mean. What about you any special girl in your life" she says cursing at herself for saying something. 

He smiles at her with that million dollars just won the lottery smile. " No. But I do have my eye on a girl to be honest. But it complicated. And I sorry. I can imagine what it looks like. Me here. You. But reality is I just feel your more my speed" he stop and look at a have no clue Jo" Sober. Good vibes. Cool" he says drinking some of the pop. She wanted to smile so bad blush even. Text her mom the cool news. Her mom knew from there little talks she had a crush on Garrett.  But instead she just said nothing. "So this girl. Why not tell her. What she some cheerleader or something" Jo says trying to hide the bit of jealous for this girl. Garrett struggles and blushed a bit. " No. She actually new here. And she no cheerleader. She way way  more fucking prettier them those dust bag. Smarter too. She also a bit younger not much . Not sure she likes a guy like me" he says looking down at the bag of chips. 

Jo hated this girl already no name or face but she hated her more than anything. "Hey uh Garrett. As a girl who shares class with you. This girl she be stupid no borderline retarded beyond repair  if she doesn't like you... Hey want do something fun out of my bag" she said to him trying to change the subject before she confessed her undying  love for him in the middle of a grocery store. He glances up after a long thought. And says yes. They talk a lot more. What they thought of class today. Taste and music. List was endless. She for once did not feel alone or afraid or even flushed by being by this close to Garrett. Instead she felt normal like the girl she used to be before moving here.

Garrett looking at his cool new panda bear with roses and bar wire, " It must be hard. Coming here. Not really belonging anywhere both at school and home. If it makes you feel better it's the same with me, Jolie. I kinda want to confess something" he starts to say. The alarm on his phone went off. Damn he whispered to himself. He looks at Jo sipping on some water listening to his music, Foo Fighters. " Have to do rounds. Want to come with. Also with what Fred did kinda don't want to leave you behind, Jolie" he whispered into her ear. Nodding at the delight of continuing this affairs or the omfg this isn't happening tour. They walked side by side down each row.  Jo looking up at him as he talked about the job, his family or the many stories he smile and laugh as he told her. 

" Hey tour guide. Do you know if we get a bathroom break. The water getting to me" she said trying to hold her pee. Garrett smiles down at her as she did her pee pee dance. " Sure but I might have to meet stay outside" he says.

 He stop by these old metal swinging doors. She looked back and sneak in. Garrett stood watch with his flashlight. The hallway was dark and musty. A few old lights winging from the ceiling. The bathroom was in worse condition. Dirty. Smelly. Something even the best horror novelist couldn't even make up. She lends over and tries to go. The old metal door starts to open. Creek creek. Jo gets up a little to see what it was. Nothing but a shadow. Unsure what to think she turns around for some toilet paper. Footsteps now . Heavy as a meter. Stomping towards her. She froze her hand press on each side of the stall . The footsteps stop in front of her. Jo mouth open a little to slow her breathing. She couldn’t tell whatever it was.She tried to listen to see if someone else was here. Jo slowly put her feet up close to her and lends towards her legs to her chest. A sharp sounds goes across the door. Jo shivering trying not to scream. Froze. Keep it together just a joke she thought. She tilts her head to the side to peak. It was gone. What or who ever wasn't there. She waited a little to make sure it was gone. She opens the door to peak. Nothing. She gulp and rush out as fast she can. Not even a hair or turtle could catch up to her. As the doors swing open. She landed right in Garrett strong arms for the second time and one day . She held him tight her head dodged into his chest. Only thing that stops her for crying was the warm touch he gave as he rubbed her back.  But it did not stop the fact she was freaked out by what just happened to her. 

" What wrong you ok? " Garrett said still holding her. She said nothing just hold him tight her head on his chest looking down at his sneakers. He looked down at her. Nothing but the head of curls and a silent whimper.  Under her breath she says" something was down there with me". He looks up at the door. " We have a lot of rats was what scared you. It's alright shi-" he start to say. 

" No a person. A shadow was there. Watching me. I want to go home now" she said still holding him. Using his shirt as a tissue as her tears roll off her face. He shocked his head pissed. 

" That bitch ass jerk" he says quietly to himself. 

" I bet Fred did this. Does not know when to stop come on let's find him" he says grabbing at her small wrist. 

They were all laughing smoking a joint. " You're freaking dead. Now Fred" Garrett says rushing right to Fred forgetting he was still holding Jo wrist. Fred turns at Garrett and Jo then back at everyone else. " What the fuck you talking about" he says laughing at him. Garrett was mad. He glances at Jo who was giving him Bambi eyes then at him. " That real cool. You scared her half to death. She literally came out to me screaming like she saw the fucking devil. Look at her" he says shaking Jo. Jo for the first time look up out of her daze. Fred blows out big poof of smoke at Garrett and Jo. " Really like. Bro you sniffing to many things of white out again . That never happened. Whatever that  baby got scared of must of been her own shadow. I was with Farrah checking out the joint. Cora was here with Lex sleeping off the liquor" he says licking his top lip. 

Jo looks at Cora who face look puzzled. As if he not saying something. Farrah was standing by Lex fighting something she wanted to say. Jo tug at Garrett shirt. She leaned in close to him on her tippy toes. " Garrett it's fine. Can we just chill it" she said to him then glanced at Farrah and Fred. Garrett still mad makes a mad face then turn to apologize to Fred. Fred piss off walk away with no other than Farrah behind him. Cora upset shakes her head and mouth the words  you slut. Hope you choke on a stick. Garrett looks at Jo then walks towards the others with his head down. Cora was now screaming at the top of lungs at Fred.Garrett rushes up to Fred and tries to calm him down as if the last five minutes never happened. Jo looks at Cora storming pass her. Cora was sitting on cashier filing her nails. 

" You ok. Cora" Jo said sincerely . Cora looks at her then raises her eyebrow up.

" I'm not stupid. I know that bottom eater is doing. I'm popular duh. But I have my limit. Doing it and being so obvious in front of people. That does it. Twice a day" she says to a puzzled face Jo " I know what you saw today. Damn thing went around faster than a twit. No one thing. May you my witness. Who ever does Cora wrong gets put on the freaking list" she said still filing her nails. Jo look at her then back at Fred. " If you knew why then be with him. There much more guys heck captions then him" she said looking at her. Cora looks at her and then walk away.

 Garrett walk right past her to Jo . " Hey Jolie. I need your help. I need to get the key. Thought I had them on me but mines are the wrong ones. Master keys in the office. Door locked everything shut down. Can you stay here. Keep watch. I'm gonna take Lex so nothing happens. He kinda upset" he says looking at Jo. 

She glanced at him then shook her head yes. She watched him leave. Placing her hands up above her head she tries to focus. As she started to walk she remembers something. Earlier the figure she saw. Was it something or just her imagination. She had to figure it out. Garrett won't do that . At least she hope not. She had to figure out was it  and the one in the bathroom is the same.

Looking at the car Jo then rushes to Fred and Farrah talking.

 "Look Freddie. She knows Lex knows why not just be together. We had sex. We make out alot why not" Farrah said trying to touch Fred face. Pushing her hand down he starts to laugh. " Look I’m starting to sober up so let me make this quick because it's kinda sad. You're like an on the street bootleg of a movie. Might think it's a good deal. Because it's cheap and looks like the real deal but always mess up quality and a waste of money. Cheap worthless. Lex told me he only with you because you give it out.Cora a real girl. I have to fight for her. You I smile and give you a second attention and your hook. What? " he says looking at Jo. 

Looking back at Cora then at them. " You should at least have the respect and talk to her. I get it. It's a joke. On me. The noises the playing with me when I was in the bathroom. It's not funny. We are already in trouble so let's just go" Jo says. Fred laughs at her then walks towards Cora. Farrah upset starts to walk off. Jo afraid of anyone leaving by themselves follows her.

 " Wait wait. It's not safe" Jo says running behind her. There was a creepy creak coming from behind but far enough that even if you tried you could hear it. 

" What do you want. Im piss and you're not helping" Farrah says still walking. Jo looks back again. There was the sound again. No one heard it.  " Look I don't know is still part of the prank. But I'm over it. I saw you when I was in the car, when I was using the bathroom. You running away now is letting him win. Now if I can put pass the silly nonsense you guys are doing so can you. You deserve better then a descent 3rd division college player that gonna be either back here working at some depressing job if he smart get a bookie to do all his work or a mid wage in some middle state overweight loser. Either way. He not worth it. You're not perfect but you don't deserve to be treated like horse poop" Jo said. She was upset. She was upset that this was happening she really only wanted to be home with her mom. Safe. Nope  instead she trying to pump up a you can do the high road to the school slut. Farrah came and raise her hand to slap Jo. " It wasn't a joke. On you. You're not worth it. You're seeing things. We was smoking a joint when we first got inside then we.....we..... we found this weird place. In the back.  Fill of old meat and big ass fucking knifes. Some straight A fucking shit. He wants to do it but I couldn’t. So after we play around broke something crap and left" she stopped and started to walk back towards the group. She stops " Thanks. You're actually cool. Cora was wrong" still walking. There was the noise again. The never ending feelings someone calling for you but know no ones behind you. Then that's when it happened. All at once. 

They were taken.  

[sgnjongin]

all the texts~~

😟 a worried text-

[ jolie fille –> ] did u get my text last night??[ jolie fille –> ] u havent answered[ jolie fille –> ] yoori gdi fucking answer me its important i gotta know if ur coming tonight or if im gonna be able to actually have some fun[ jolie fille –> ] YOORI

🤡 a goofy text-

[ jolie fille –> ] just a thought but like[ jolie fille –> ] what if we made[ jolie fille –> ] like a suicide pact lol[ jolie fille –> ] u can go first

💖 a loving text-

[ jolie fille –> ] u handled that convo with mr baldy well, nice diplomacy[ jolie fille –> ] i was just gonna punch him in his pretty gold suit[ jolie fille –> ] what a fucktard[ jolie fille –> ] poor doesnt mean stupid what the fuck planet is he on

🤐 an awkward text-

[ jolie fille –> ] this is a bit far fetched but,,,,,,[ jolie fille –> ] did i leave my pants over in the hallway outside ur door??[ jolie fille –> ] can u check for me

💤 a half-asleep text-

[ jolie fille –> ] did u survive ur walk back from the library[ jolie fille –> ] did the ghosts get u[ jolie fille –> ] no????[ jolie fille –> ] see i told u shits not real dumbass

😊 a happy text-

[ jolie fille –> ] my mother just called to let us know that dinner tonight will be canceled, no need to show up[ jolie fille –> ] ur free for another couple of hours at least[ jolie fille –> ] and so am i

🤔 a nonsensical text-

[ jolie fille –> ] did u know the chemical they used to make teflon steel is now found in the blood of every single human on the fucking planet?????[ jolie fille –> ] like wtf[ jolie fille –> ] this some hiroshima shit fuck america honestly

🙏 an apologetic text-

[ jolie fille –> ] i’m sorry i was late getting back to the room ok i didnt know u were alone in here with my father did he do something to you did he touch you[ jolie fille –> ] i got distracted i didnt realize[ jolie fille –> ] yoori i see u looking at ur phone, fucking answer me

❎ a text meant for someone else-

[ jolie fille –> ] {attachment opened: dick pic}[ jolie fille –> ] oops that wasn’t meant for u[ jolie fille –> ] that’s for my ~~~~~mistress~~~~~ lol

🕰️ an early morning text-

[ jolie fille –> ] if ur getting coffee, pick me up one too[ jolie fille –> ] just do it i’ll pay u[ jolie fille –> ] isn’t that all u want anyway???? money?????

🌑 a late night text-

[ jolie fille –> ] why are u texting me from 2 rooms away we are literally 2 rooms away yoori[ jolie fille –> ] I’M NOT ABANDONING U IN A HAUNTED HOUSE IM LITERALLY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HALLWAY WTF

🥴 a drunk text-

[ jolie fille –> ] youve ee ruinedd everything[ jolie fille –> ] everythtuing[ jolie fille –> ] myy hwole life what why do u think im  fuckcign ilike tis yoori[ jolie fille –> ] becausee of u[ jolie fille –> ] u bithc

🗑️ a text that wasn’t sent-

[ jolie fille –> ] i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate the way you hate me i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you[ jolie fille –> ] one of these days he’s gonna try to make me kill you[ jolie fille –> ] what will i do then[ jolie fille –> ] what would you look like with my hands around that pretty porcelain neck?

👀 a dirty text-

[ jolie fille –> ] idk u look like the kind of girl who likes getting her hair pulled[ jolie fille –> ] if u weren’t such a fucking virgin tho ofc[ jolie fille –> ] like even if ur not a virgin, you put out Strong Virgin Vibes, it messes with my zen honestly[ jolie fille –> ] if u begged nicely enough i could help u with that tho

⚠️ a scared text-

[ jolie fille –> ] can u phone my mom[ jolie fille –> ] she’s not answering me[ jolie fille –> ] maybe she’ll answer u[ jolie fille –> ] i just need her to pick up[ jolie fille –> ] she doesn’t usually not have her phone, u know how she gets[ jolie fille –> ] and i know how my father can get[ jolie fille –> ] with her[ jolie fille –> ] sometimes[ jolie fille –> ] just fucking call her[ jolie fille –> ] now

🚨 an urgent text-

[ jolie fille –> ] do me a solid and turn in my chem homework, its on my desk, clearly marked, dokki is probs sitting on it[ jolie fille –> ] cant do it myself, family emergency

👯‍���️ a supportive text-

[ jolie fille –> ] look i know ur studying for ur exam tonight so i took the liberty of filling up ur room with clocks![ jolie fille –> ] alarm clocks[ jolie fille –> ] 256 of them ticking~~~~[ jolie fille –> ] so you can find the time~~~~[ jolie fille –> ] to get a fucking life~~~~[ jolie fille –> ] at least u wont miss ur exam[ jolie fille –> ] ur welcome

🔪 a hateful text-

[ jolie fille –> ] you think im weak but at least i wouldnt sell my soul and my pride to the devil for some fucking social standing[ jolie fille –> ] you would never get anywhere on your own without me[ jolie fille –> ] you think you’re so clean but your family sold you to us and you agreed to it, youre still fitting yourself into this role[ jolie fille –> ] i was born here, i dont have a choice, but you? you fucking chose this[ jolie fille –> ] what a gold-digging slut you are[ jolie fille –> ] you and my father deserve each other

😢 a sad text-

[ jolie fille –> ] all these pictures theyre taking of us…..[ jolie fille –> ] i cant belive im here looking like a whole snack and u look like the trash the maid just took out[ jolie fille –> ] all these pics are gonna have to be burned, im so sad

😡 an angry text-

[ jolie fille –> ] WHY ARE U TELLING KAI TO DITCH ME[ jolie fille –> ] HE TOLD ME WHAT U SAID WTF[ jolie fille –> ] MY SON WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME HE’S LOYAL UNLIKE SOME BITCHES OUT HERE

👋 a goodbye text-

[ jolie fille –> ] i doubt we have to spend the holidays together[ jolie fille –> ] so glad i won’t have to hear ur whiny-ass voice for a full couple of weeks it’s gonna be GLORIOUS

🔎 a revealing text-

[ jolie fille –> ] do u remember when we first met??[ jolie fille –> ] i doubt u remember it the way i remember it

❓ for me to choose randomly- 😡 an angry text-

[ jolie fille –> ] put a fucking leash on ur family[ jolie fille –> ] they’re fucking embarrassing themselves[ jolie fille –> ] like apes[ jolie fille –> ] u ppl wouldnt know decorum or class if they hit u in the face

[artificialqueens]

And So We Run (ch.5) - Traumathicc

A/N: Here’s what was supposed to be the rest of chapter 4! I really hate tumblr sometimes.

”GaaaAAAHAAAH-”

”Try to stay quiet-”

”AaaaaAAAAAOOOW-”

”-Try to stay quiet, PLEASE.”

”But you’re hurdinnh meeeeeeEEEH-”

”-SHHH! Calm down! The wound isn’t even that deep!”

”You’re just saying thaAHAA-”

That’s it. She has no choice anymore. Adore takes one of the spare rags and stuffs it into Willam’s mouth. She can’t risk them getting discovered again. Besides, it’s getting dark, which means it’s easier for a assailant to sneak up on them.

”I’m sorry, but you’re making too much noise. I’m almost done though, don’t worry.”

Willam gives off a muffled whimper as Adore dabs another piece of fabric in the remainder of one of the bottles. She presses it against Willam’s arm, wiping off the last of the dried blood around the wound. Willam bites down hard on the rag, but she manages to stay quiet this time.

Adore then proceeds to wrap the fabric around the wound like a bandage.

”There! That should do it!”

Willam gets up from the log immediately and pulls the rag out of her mouth. She dry heaves a few times, spits dramatically into a bush and throws it on the ground. Then she looks over at Adore.

”Thank you.”

She pauses and bites her lip.

”Y’know… that whole nurse mode you went into… was kinda hot…”

Adore’s face turns beet red in about 0.5 seconds. She manages to squeak out a ”Don’t mention it!” Before walking off to get the potato sack.

She picks up a potato and studies it thoughtfully. She realizes she has no idea what to do with them. Eat them raw? Out of the question. Just the thought is enough to make her heave. Maybe they could boil them? They have nothing to boil them in, and water is a precious resource. Well, if they want to cook them they could always just roast them. Adore picks up two spare sticks from the pile of spare firewood she gathered earlier and gives one to Willam.

“Put a potato on this and hold it over the fire.”

The minutes that follow are spent in relative silence. The potatoes are extremely tasteless, but Adore supposes flavor is a luxury now. She’s almost done roasting her third one when Willam suddenly speaks up.

“So… what’s your deal?”

“My what?”

“You still haven’t told me why you were crying when I found you. Something bad happened to you? I mean, aside from, y’know, the situation with the game.”

Adore takes a deep breath.

“I saw someone die today. Or, more like, heard someone die. I didn’t see it because I was hiding. But I was close. And I heard everything.”

Willam gives her a surprisingly soft look, followed by a small “Oh.”

“And do you know what the worst part was?” Adore didn’t really mean to continue but it’s like someone’s opened a faucet in her brain. “I couldn’t even do anything! Even if I wanted too… I was so scared I couldn’t move my body… And they were laughing… What kind of person laughs at death like that?!”

“Alaska.”

Adore almost jumps at the sudden seriousness in Willam’s voice.

”Well, not really” Willam continues. ”She’s always taken her… craft, very seriously. But she does tend to surround herself with people that are just in it for sport. They’re all pawns, of course, poor things. Though I can’t really say I feel that sorry for any of them…”

Adore doesn’t say anything. There’s something strangely profound about this new side of Willam.

”Alaska cares about one thing and one thing only. Winning. She and the people who shaped her into the White Reaper will do anything to ensure her victory in the games. It’s kind of why a nobody like me was chosen as her partner.”

”You didn’t train with Alaska?”

Willam laughs bitterly.

”No, no, no. The higher ups back home were cranky about the fact that there always has to be two girls from each district. And since they didn’t want anyone to outshine their rising star they handpicked me from one of the tent slums in the outskirts of the city. Y’know, near the diamond mines? Yeah. As you can probably imagine, it’s not like I had any other choice, I have no family and was practically living on the street. I guess they figured I’d bite it pretty quickly and that’d be the end of it.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Why? It’s not like I was living it up or anything. Plus, this game does have its benefits. Like free booze, excellent food and-“ She gives Adore a wink. “- Extraordinary company!”

Adore laughs. “You sound like you’re from the capitol!”

“They made me practice A LOT.”

“High districts and their finery, I suppose.”

“Where are you from, anyway?”

“District 11”

“Holy shit! Then maybe we aren’t so different?”

“Hey! I had a house! And a mom… and friends…”

The burning behind Adore’s eyes is coming back. At least sob stories make for good television.

“What if I never see them again? If Alaska really is that dangerous… oh god, what if she finds Laganja before I do?”

The possibility had never even crossed Adore’s mind until now. She can practically feel the color draining from her face.

“Wait, hold on, who’s Laganja?”

“She’s my part- my friend. She’s the other 11. I haven’t seen her since the bloodbath… fuck what if she-“

“Shhhhhhshhshhhhhh~” Willam grabs her arms. “Calm down. Take deep breaths. That ceremony thing is soon, right? Now, I can’t guarantee that she won’t be up there, but there’s a greater chance that she isn’t!”

Adore feels tears hitting the back of her hands. The minute spent on that podium was one of the most horrifying things she’s ever been through. She remembers standing there wanting nothing more than to live.

She just wanted them all to live.

Why did she tell Laganja to run away from her? She’s not a coward, with Adore’s help, surely she could hold her own in a fight against most of the others.

Then she remembers the slash. The gurgles. The screams. The laughter.

Maybe there was no other choice?

“-dore? Adore? A d o r e??”

She’s suddenly jolted back into reality by a hushed “It’s starting now!” From Willam.

She forces herself to look up at the sky.

~FALLEN TRIBUTES~

The hologram is white and glittery, and accompanied by the capitol anthem. Then it bursts and proceeds to rain down on the arena like snow.

Then the pictures.

A tall girl with short, silver blonde hair and a surprised expression standing against a silver frame and the name MAX MALANAPHY in the same white snowletters.

Adore finds herself taking Willam’s hand.

TRIXIE MATTEL.

A bundle of pink and blonde with a big smile and huge round glasses.

SHARON NEEDLES.

An unnaturally pale girl with black, wavy hair and glowing contacts.

JADE JOLIE.

A know-it-all smile clad in jewelry and a jacket with way too many buttons.

Then the hologram bursts again and the music fades out.

Adore almost collapses against the log in relief.

Her and Willam fall asleep together that night. Adore dreams about a clearing in the woods, a bouquet of hepatica and a blue eyed smile.

She’s alone again when she wakes up.

[demonsonthemoon]

The In-Between Moments

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairings: Jehan/Grantaire (background unrequited Grantaire/Enjolras) Word Count: 3069 Summary: Jehan and Grantaire find each other in those in-between moments between love and friendship, between real life and a dream. So no, it isn’t love, but it burns like it, until they soothe the flames away with a touch. So maybe it’s love still. Note: Five years ago, @anastasiapullingteeth posted a Jehan/Grantaire fic on Valentine’s Day. I absolutely loved it, ans started talking to her thanks to it, and we’ve been super great friends ever since. So this fic is a gift for her in celebration of that, and of one of my favorite OTPs still.

Also available on AO3.

Jehan watched Enjolras talk. He was listening as well, although the words weren't what he was focused on. Something about the article Joly had promised to write for the ABC's blog, and what exactly he was to include in it. It wasn't immediately relevant to Jehan, so the young man didn't feel bad for being inattentive.

Instead, he watched the person in front of him, mapping the lines of eir face, the waves of eir golden hair. Most fascinating of all were eir eyes, their sharpness and focus as ey intently listened to one of Joly's comments. “Fire in eir eyes” was an overused phrase, but there was a reason some phrases stuck around. Looking at Enjolras' face was like looking into a flame. Just watching em would make warmth rise up in your body, until all you could think about was to reach out a hand despite the certainty of being burned.

Some people were just naturally like that. Naturally bright and meaningful. Others had to scrape by. Hustle. Fake it for so long that people didn't remember a time when you hadn't been so interesting, promising, wonderful really. Jehan saw himself strictly stuck in that second category. He didn't put himself down, not really. He really was an interesting, even fascinating person. But he worked for it. He worked for it day and night. Cultivated himself, his words and his gestures.

Unlike Enjolras.

Jehan let out a melancholy sigh. The worst thing about Enjolras was perhaps the fact that it just wasn't possible to be resentful of eir charisma. That was the depth to which this quality ran in em. Desire, yes. Envy, yes. Resentment? Never. Enjolras was too pure for a thing like that. Ey created admiration. Sure, you wanted what ey had. Maybe you even wanted em. But you never felt like ey didn't deserve who ey was. You couldn't even think about stealing it. Instead, ey made you want to become this wonderful person by yourself.

The topic of conversation had changed. Grantaire had entered into a debate with Enjolras, about something or other. Jehan was still only half-listening, prefering to watch their facial expressions instead.

Enjolras was frowning, struggling to stay calm and neutral. Grantaire, on the other hand, was smiling sardonically, playing with his pen. He looked like he had not a care in the world, though Jehan knew better. Grantaire was like him. He built himself a persona and stuck to it. That didn't mean he wasn't real, that he was lying or being someone other than himself. Not really. Both of them just worked hard to present an image to others that was as close as possible to the best self they could imagine themselves to be.

You couldn't say that Grantaire was lying when he was like this. You couldn't possibly say that when you saw how bright his eyes were, how he was leaning forward ever so slightly, despite trying to appear nonchalant. How, whenever Enjolras responded particularly pointedly to one of his comments, his smile would take on a sharper edge, one that could only be recognised as pride if you knew Grantaire well enough.

Grantaire wasn't lying. He was alive. He retreated behind a distant wall and pretended not to care so that, within himself, he could enjoy the brightness of the people around him to its fullest. He loved this so much that he could only ever do it half-heartedly. That was the only way not to get burned, not to be destroyed.

And so, for this too, Jehan had no resentment. He could envy the pure love radiating from Grantaire as he argued with Enjolras. He could long, yearn for it. But he couldn't resent it. Because that would mean resenting a whole part of Grantaire. And Jehan couldn't do that. The most violent thing he could do was hate. He could hate parts of Grantaire, sometimes. He could even hate Grantaire as a person, as a whole. It had happened before. But he couldn't hate the fact that Grantaire existed, couldn't hate him to the point where he wished he wasn't there. It just wasn't possible. There was too much meaning attached to everything Grantaire was for Jehan to resent him.

And so Jehan longed. He yearned. He desired, and he envied. And in the end he was glad for it because that, too, was one way of being alive.

And, at the end of the day, when Enjolras and Grantaire had finished their argument, either because someone else had intervened, or because they had come to a stand-still on their own, at the end of the day, Grantaire would turn towards Jehan. He would turn towards Jehan because he too was longing, yearning, desiring and alive. He would turn towards Jehan and his pupils would be dilated, there would be a blush starting to crawl up his neck, and the two of them would share a smile. That smile wasn't a secret, not really. None of it was a secret. It was just that most people didn't care about finding out these kinds of things about each other, and so they didn't know.

Everyone always lingered in the café even after the meeting had officially come to a close, because they all enjoyed each other's company. The conversations shifted from politics to personal lives. Classes, family drama. Movies and books. Jehan participated more actively in those conversations. It wasn't that the political debates didn't interest him, on the contrary. He just needed more time than others to absorb arguments and form his own opinions. But when it came to books! He had so many opinions about those, well-formed if not always coherent, and he could have talked about them for hours.

Besides Grantaire, Marius was his favorite person to speak with. He, too, wasn't always sure of what he thought, even if in other ways he was more like Enjolras than Jehan. Marius didn't even think of hiding behind an act because, to him, creating a persona was much harder work than just being. Jehan liked him for that, for bringing nuance to the admiration he had for Enjolras' way of being. He also liked him because Marius was kind and open. And because they talked about books, about languages, about love and about life.

During those conversations, Grantaire was sometimes the one to take his turn to watch. He would nurse a bottle of wine and stay silent, or offer a few quips in another conversation, but his gaze remained on Jehan, even if just out of the corner of his eyes. The same kind of focus he would have when debating with Enjolras would then be displaced towards Jehan. It was a thrilling sensation, one that Enjolras sadly didn't seem to know how to appreciate. But Jehan did.

After too long of this game of trading gazes, both men would make their excuses, putting on a show of kissing everyone goodbye before they left. If nobody followed them immediately, they would trade one kiss, a deeper one, just beyond the door of the café, pretend that this was forbidden somehow, that it was the sense of danger urging them on and not just their own desire.

And then they would go home, whatever shape home took that day.

This time it was Jehan's flat, the better option since Grantaire was working on a new painting, which meant his own place was in disarray. Jehan's flat was small, about what you would expect from the kinds of places students can afford. At least, living a good half hour away from any campus meant that his rent was low enough that he didn't have to find a roommate.

It was small, kind of shitty, but it was Jehan's. As unmistakably Jehan's as the candles in empty wine bottles that littered his bathroom, wax sticking to the sides, or the pile of notebooks on his desk. There was a small portrait of him painted by Grantaire hanging on one wall, as well as bouquets of dried flowers on every surface that would hold them. It was one more way that Jehan had of playing at being himself.  He changed the rooms to reflect what he wanted others to see inside of him.

Whatever anyone had to say about the choice of decoration, however, the flat was functional. The small kitchen was the only place always kept impeccable, because although Jehan would go to great length for the aesthetic, food poisoning was not one of them. And, more importantly, his bedroom held a queen-sized bed.

They entered the flat casually. They weren't in a rush, they knew each other. No one was going anywhere, and so they could take the time to hang their jacket and put their shoes away. There was no stumbling across each other, no item abandonned where it didn't belong because they couldn't be bothered to think about it in the other's presence.

Instead, Jehan offered a cup of tea, and Grantaire accepted. Waiting was half the game. It was all about building anticipation until they felt like they would burst, until looking at each other nearly hurt and touch was the only remedy.

While the water boiled, Grantaire flipped through the notebook on top of Jehan's pile, distractedly reading a few lines of several poems. The smell of tea soon wafted through the room, and Grantaire found himself rythmically tapping his fingers against Jehan's desk.

Jehan was smiling, carrying two steaming mugs. His short, wavy ginger hair was like a copper halo around his face. Looking at the old portrait he had offered his friend, Grantaire itched to get more details right, to give recognition to the way the light played with the young man's eyes or the slight curve of his jaw.

Jehan recognized Grantaire's gaze, his artist's focus. He recognized the way it made his skin tingle, how it made him feel powerful. Most of Grantaire's art wasn't about beauty, not really. It was about presence, about energy. His portraits didn't want to make their subjects beautiful – although they did – but they wanted to immortalize the power to captivate that Grantaire recognized in them.

After this evening, after all the waiting, such a gaze raised shivers up and down Jehan's body. It made him want to take, take, take.

“Working on anything specific?” Grantaire asked after taking a sip of his jasmine tea. He pointed at the pile of notebooks.

Jehan shrugged and sat down on one of his couches, a dumpster rescue covered by a brightly-colored crocheted quilt. “Mostly stuff for magazine submissions. I haven't found my next big idea yet.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “What about that modern epic thing?”

Jehan groaned. “It's just so much research! I keep getting lost on Wikipedia. So I'm... taking a break from it.”

Grantaire smiled knowingly. A big part of the notebook pile was composed of projects that the poet was taking a break from, just as Grantaire had a drawer full of half-finished sketches and preliminary studies for paintings. Inspiration was a fickle mistress.

Their conversation slowly tapered off as they both focused on finishing their mugs of tea, as well as on looking at each other. Even Jehan couldn't find words worthy to be added to the heat in their gazes.

The poet had barely dropped the now empty mugs into his sink that Grantaire was tugging on his wrist, half-dragging him to his bedroom. Jehan couldn't help but smile, and slid his fingers in-between Grantaire's before letting himself be carried off.

Grantaire stopped as soon as he had entered the bedroom, so Jehan took the lead. He climbed on the bed and tugged on Grantaire's hand until he followed, stumbling onto the mattress. This brought the both of them close together, and Jehan raised his gaze to meet his friend's. “Hey stranger.”

Grantaire smiled. “Hi,” he whispered just above Jehan's lips before leaning in and kissing the other man.

This kiss wasn't the same as their stolen kisses outside the Musain. It was thrilling in new ways. Not because it was forbidden but because it was such a known territory. The kiss was deep and intent. Jehan bit down slightly on Grantaire's lower lip, like he knew the other liked, and Grantaire responded by splaying his hand across Jehan's ribs under his shirt.

They knew each other, knew each other's bodies. If any touch was exploratory, it was because they wanted it to be, not out of necessity.

They broke away to catch their breath, letting their forehead touch so that they kept on breathing the same air. This was Jehan's favorite part of it all. These little in-between moments of pure intimacy, where none of them was actively pursuing their pleasure, instead just relishing in the easiness of the instant. Jehan breathed. Grantaire breathed. And, in that moment, that was enough, and it was perfect.

Then Jehan put his hands in Grantaire's hair and pulled, dragging a moan out of him and swallowing it in the same movement. The heat spiked up again between the both of them. Their bodies were clearly telling them that they had waited long enough.

Grantaire moved one of his knees up, straddling Jehan on either sides of one of his thighs. Jehan immediately took advantage of that position to buck his hips against him, which made Grantaire chuckle. He gave Jehan another quick kiss before pulling away and starting to unbutton the other man's shirt.

A second advantage to button ups – besides the fact they looked stylish as heck – was that they turned undressing into a drawn-out, intimate process. Grantaire still made quick work of the shirt, considering. Jehan sat up to let him peel the garment from his shoulders. Once that was done, he buried his hands in Grantaire's curls once more, and the other man immediately folded in against him, kissing down from his cheek to the junction between his shoulder and his neck.

Jehan let his breath come out in a sigh, smiling as Grantaire began to suckle at his skin.

“Do you know how hot you looked earlier?” Jehan said. He grinned at the way Grantaire shuddered. He always did, when Jehan talked like that. Grantaire himself mostly kept quiet during sex, letting out only moans and curses. But he loved hearing others talk. And, well, Jehan was a poet after all. Wielding words was his job, although this situation called for a different vocabulary than what he was most used to.

“You get this little self-satisfied grin when you counter someone's argument, and it drives me insane.”

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked, looking up with pupils blowned wide.

“Mmh-mmh,” Jehan replied around a chuckle. “You forget to be self-conscious when you're like that.”

That comment earned him a frown. “Are you talking dirty or psychoanalysing me?”

Before Jehan could open his mouth, Grantaire had put one of his hand over it. “Don't answer. I know you'll say why not both and I would really rather not talk about my daddy issues in bed.”

Jehan shrugged, entirely unapologetic, and Grantaire and him dissolved into giggles at the same time. Jehan felt light and carefree, out of his mind in the best of way.

And then Grantaire went in with the tickles.

And then war was on.

Jehan immediately pushed Grantaire off him. Not undressing Grantaire immediately had apparently been a tactical mishap, since he couldn't reach the extremely ticklish spot on the back of Grantaire's knees. Grantaire – on the other hand – has easy access to all of his chest and his armpits, and made good use of that advantage.

They play-fought for a few minutes, tickles evolving into a struggle to push each other off the bed. And then Grantaire managed to grab Jehan's wrists and hold them over his head while he kissed his nose, and all fighting instincts rushed out of Jehan in one breath.

He wrinkled his face. “Stop being cute, I already like you too much.”

Grantaire grinned. “I feel like that should be my line, every single day.”

He bent down helpfully, allowing Jehan to pluck the compliment from his lips.

This brought them a step back to their earlier mood, although much of the anticipation had been dissipated. Neither of them really minded.

Still, Jehan was quick to remedy his earlier mistakes, and broke away from the kiss to pull Grantaire's shirt over his head. He ran a hand across the other man's chest like it was still a privilege to do so. After all, it was. And then he used the other hand to scratch his nails down the whole length of Grantaire's back.

“Oh fuck,” Grantaire groaned. His hips bucked forward involuntarily despite the fact he was barely half-hard. Jehan took it as a victory.

“Yeah, that's kind of the plan.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, still hovering above him, his weight on his hands on both sides of Jehan's face. “That line is the biggest of clichés. You're a poet, you can do better.”

Jehan tried – and failed, like always – to quirk an eyebrow. “I know you've read my poetry. Do you really think talking about existential anguish would be a more effective way to woo you?”

“Wooing? Is that what you're doing?”

“Well, I would be, but you're making it really hard.”

From the glint in Grantaire's eyes, Jehan knew exactly what he was going to say.

“I thought that was the point?” He punctuated that sentence with a press of his hand against Jehan's crotch.

“You're insufferable.”

“Yeah, but you still-”

Jehan interrupted him by pushing him on his side and then immediately drawing him in for a kiss. Grantaire opened his mouth to it enthusiastically, settling one hand on Jehan's lower back to bring him impossibly closer. Grantaire's lips were always chapped, but Jehan didn't mind. It had become part of the habit, and he liked the habit very much. It was a part of Grantaire, and he liked Grantaire very much.

And maybe that wasn't the same as the way Grantaire loved Enjolras. Maybe it wasn't the same as the way romance novels talked about love. But Jehan did love Grantaire, and he let him know that, as clearly as he could, with a press of his tongue and a tug on his hair.

“I think you should take your pants off,” Jehan added aloud. “I really want to get my hands on you.”

[leftistenjolras]

only a winner and a loser

FANDOM Les Misérables PAIRING Enjolras/Grantaire (pre-slash) TAGS Pre-Relationship / Alternate Universe - Politics / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / French Politics / Enjolras is an anarchist / far-left Amis de l'ABC READ ON AO3 (link)

If I'm the lesser of two evils, who's this man, who's this act I hide behind? Bastille

 May 7th, 10:04

“Are you coming to the Musain tonight ?” Combeferre asks, and Enjolras shrugs. “It depends, if they start something on the streets.” “Nah, I've heard they'll do it tomorrow. Everyone will just get shitfaced drunk tonight. Trying to forget.” “Some people are going to celebrate though.” “Yeah, well, we can't support these ones, uh?”

Enjolras smiles wryly. It hurts to think about the results now. It hurts to think about anything related to the elections. They’ve hoped for so much, and got so little. The first round was a massive disappointment for everyone. The Amis de l’ABC were so angry that night. They stayed angry for two weeks. Today Enjolras doesn't even find the strength to be angry. It's not that they particularly believed in Mélenchon’s ability to change the world. He's a reformist, they're revolutionaries. He’s a social-democrat, they're anarchists. But, well, it was still the true left. And now it's Macron versus Le Pen and they're just so, so, so fucked.

“But everyone will be there, Enjolras, you should come. It'll be better than just moping on your own.” “Yeah, I'll think about it, Ferre, don't worry,” he answers. “Do you think she could win ?” Combeferre asks, and Enjolras closes his eyes. “I don't know. I don't think so. She failed the debate. Plus with the “barrage républicain”, most of the other candidates asked to vote for Macron. Even if most of the Insoumis decide not to vote, there's still something like seventy percent of the fillonists who will vote for him, plus the socialists. She has no chance.” “I wouldn't be so sure,” Combeferre answers. “There's still part of the fillonists who will vote for her. The Manif Pour Tous followers. And Macron has been really bad, these past two weeks, not trying to rally the Insoumis, instead accusing them.” “Yeah, well, they might not vote for him, but they won't vote for Le Pen. Abstention will be high, but she'll never get enough votes to win.” “I really hope you're right, Enjolras,” Combeferre sighs. “I really hope you're right.”

May 7th, 14:02

“If she wins, they're going to blame us again,” Courfeyrac says, taking the glass Musichetta gives him. They're in the backroom of the Musain, helping Musichetta and Grantaire prepare for the electoral night. Whatever the results are, the kind of people who come to the café won't be satisfied, and neither will the ABC. Enjolras just hopes they'll put their anger to good use. “They wouldn't be totally wrong, though,” Cosette provides, and all the faces turn to her. “No, no, don't get me wrong, I'm not voting either ! But I know that it increases the risks.” “But we're ready to face the risks, though, aren't we ?” Combeferre asks, and Cosette nods. “Because we're not voters, we're activists. We are involved in politics all year long, not just during the elections.” “We're still fucked if she wins, though,” Musichetta declares. “We're fucked if he wins too,” Enjolras answers. “As Combeferre said, we'll be in the streets whatever happens. We've never changed anything by voting for reformists or socdems, anyway,” he says, settling a table. “But we're going to change things with the protests”. “But if they vote for Macron, do you think they'll protest against him ?” Grantaire says, leaving his silence for the first time. Enjolras rolls his eyes. “We know you don't believe in what we do, Grantaire, you don't believe in anything,” Enjolras snaps. “You're wrong, Enjolras,” Grantaire smirks. “I believe in the natural selfishness of men.” “If you were right, Grantaire, then no revolution would have succeeded. But we both know that's not what happened.” “People were hungry, they couldn't have a job, they couldn't feed their children, they cared about that only. No one’s going to make a revolution because of values, Enjolras, as beautiful as they are.” “That's where we don't agree.” “There are a lot of things on which we don't agree, Enjolras.” “Stop fighting, boys. We'll see what we do depending the results,” Musichetta cuts them. “Now we gotta prepare for the anarchists you lot are bringing to my café tonight.”

 May 7th, 16:38

“I voted”, Joly declares when he joins them in the backroom. Enjolras, sitting on the floor, quietly scrolling through Twitter, was suddenly not so quiet anymore. “I’m sorry ? You did what ?” “I voted,” Joly says again. “It hurt, but I decided that I wanted to vote.” “You voted for Macron,” Enjolras repeats, unbelieving. Joly swallows, uncomfortable. “I voted for Macron.” Enjolras snaps his eyes shut. “I can’t believe you did that.” “It was my choice, ok ? I wanted to vote. I’m just- there are too many risks. I couldn’t …” “We get it, Joly, don’t worry”, Musichetta says, giving Enjolras an insistent look that shut him up. “No one’s gonna judge anyone here. As long as you didn’t vote for Le Pen, that is.” Grantaire, beside her, scoffed, and Enjolras shook his head. “I won’t say anything,” he declares, but everyone knows what he thinks. “You can’t ask for people not to say anything if you don’t vote, and then despise those who vote, Enjolras,” Grantaire starts, but Cosette pats his shoulder, giving him a pointed look, efficiently calming him down. “I just don’t understand, that’s it,” Enjolras starts. “You just- you could have told us. We could have talked about it.” “You would have tried to dissuade me, I know you, you know. But it’s done now. I just don’t want to feel guilty if anything happens.” “She won’t win,” Enjolras declares, confident, and Grantaire snorts, but Enjolras pretends he hasn’t heard. “And even if she won,” Combeferre starts, “and I trust Enjolras when he says she won’t, but even if she won, we wouldn’t be the ones responsible for it. Because when Estrosi or Valls kept spreading the ideas that got her there, we fought against it, we fought against racism, fascism, long before the elections. So, fuck their barrage républicain. It’s not our fault.” Cosette nods, thoughtful. “What do we do tonight, if she wins ?” She asks. “She won’t win,” Enjolras repeats. “I know, but just imagine if she does.” “We start fighting,” Combeferre provides, and everyone nods. There’s fire in their eyes. The ABC are fighters, that’s what they do. They fight through words and through protests, but in the end, it’s the cause that matters, not the means. And tonight, the cause needs them. Tonight, people everywhere in France are gathered, terribly angry, terribly disappointed, and they’ve never been that ready before, to destroy a system that’s been sick forever. “The ABC meets tonight, and I’m sure many others Musain regulars plan to come to listen to the results. If she wins, people are going to be so angry, they’ll start protesting immediately. Paris is going to burn,” Enjolras claims, excitedly. “Don’t say that, Enjolras, that’s really not what we should do. Be angry, of course. Protest, maybe. But we need time to organize. With the state of emergency, the election, May the first, the police are everywhere. If we do anything as chaotic as what you say, we’re going to get killed. It’s a suicide. We don’t want this.” Everyone nods. “Let’s just wait a little, see what people do. There’s the Social Third Round tomorrow. People are going to plan things. For now, we wait for the results. We stay together - and by together, I don’t only mean the ABC, I mean us, the activists. This is no time to divide. Whatever happens, tomorrow, we go to the protest, we meet people there. There will be the NPA, there will be the syndicates, there will be the anarchists. It’s time to make allies.” As always, Combeferre is the wisest, and no one can disagree. They just go back to work, silently. Enjolras, still on his phone, is trying to invite as many persons to the Musain as possible. Musichetta keeps washing the dishes. Grantaire keeps doing nothing, only supervising everyone with a smirk on his face. The world keeps turning, and the fascists keep voting.

 May 7th, 19:30

The bar has just opened, and people are already angry. Behind the counter, Grantaire and Musichetta prepare the drinks of the first revolutionaries who have arrived, dressed in red and black, with fire in their eyes and venom in their speech. There’s the ABC, the regulars, who usually hold their meeting in the backroom in front of the fond eyes of Musichetta and the cynic gaze of Grantaire. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Joly were the first to arrive, along with Cosette who never officially joined the ABC but is always there with Marius and, often, more useful than him. Marius has then arrived with some of the Insoumis he works with. Though Enjolras often mocks his admiration for Mélenchon, the Insoumis are still allies among them, as long as no one urges them to “vote useful”. At six o’clock, Eponine has taken Gavroche from his friend’s house and brought him to the meeting. At six thirty, the rest of the ABC arrived : Bossuet, Feuilly, Bahorel, and Jehan with his boyfriend Montparnasse, an anarchist who wears black even when he’s not in protests, for the aesthetic. Soon, some others come. There are regulars, people who assist the ABC meetings though they never cared to join, people who demonstrate with them. Two CGT members, some anarchists, some Insoumis, NPA members. They're here in the hope to change the world one day, but for now they just wish for it not to collapse tonight. But as Combeferre once said, with Macron as a president, they'd be able to fight for progress. With Le Pen, they'd struggle to preserve even their right to exist. They're all gathered around the little TV that Musichetta has settled for the occasion, chatting on their own, not yet listening to the journalist's declarations. Like every election night, the atmosphere is tense, but this time more than ever. The first round was a time of hope : the Insoumis wanted Mélenchon to win, and though they wouldn't admit it on the moment, the rest of them did to. It would have been too beautiful. Le Pen ejected from the beginning, a true leftist opposition, and though Macron would have probably won in the second round, the fascists wouldn't have had the legitimacy they have found now. In the streets, it's hard for them. The racists, the Le Penists, they used to hide, they used to be ashamed. Of course, it changed since 2002. The Front National was now a party that could win. But these years more than ever, Marine Le Pen did everything she could to normalise their party, to un-demonize their opinions. And during these two weeks, the frontists knew that 20% of the population thought just like them. They were not ashamed anymore, they were proud. They could talk about it. And now everything was tense. As if it wasn't enough to know that a person out of four had voted for a party that was founded by former SS members, people now seemed to believe that the Front National was a party just like the others and that protesting against them or even opposing them in a debate was opposing democracy. And after all, they were quite lucky. Only 5% of Paris had voted for Le Pen in the first round. Mostly, they only met the fascists on the Internet, and it was already too much. But sometimes, when they were together, they could almost forget that the rest of the country was that obtuse to change. They could believe they'd change the world, and that was the most important. Because in this kind of movements, hope is the biggest part.. The moment you lose hope, you can't achieve anything anymore. The moment you lose hope, fighting becomes too hard. It's easier to survive in a world where you don't belong if you're sure that you have the power to change it. “She's going to win,” Bossuet declares suddenly, worried. Musichetta and Joly press themselves at his side, shaking their heads. “No, sweetheart, she won't,” Musichetta affirms, confident. “You've heard Enjolras. The country isn't that shitty. The barrage républicain will give legitimacy to Macron, and the percentage might give legitimacy to the frontists, but she can't win.” “Listen, everyone,” Enjolras declares, suddenly standing up, and people at the counter get quiet to listen to him. “Tonight, whatever happens, is a night of loss for us. Either the winner is a fascist one-eyed daughter” (people in the audience start boo-ing) “or the winner neo liberalism and social regression like we haven't had since Vichy. But the fact is - we don't need to be afraid. Of course, neither situation is pleasant for us. No left candidate still in the race,” (the Insoumis shake their heads, silently disapproving the disqualification of Mélenchon) “and everyone urging us to vote for the “lesser of two evils” as if Macron had suddenly become the only chance of salvation for humanity. But there's a thing that we need not to forget. What happens during the next five years is not only determined by tonight's results. Whoever our new president is, we're not going to stop fighting. The most important thing to do will be taking the street, as soon as tomorrow, to show that we are not satisfied with all of this. We are not satisfied,” he repeats, and his restricted audience cheers, “with having as a president those who campaign against our rights. We're not satisfied with an electoral system that gets a candidate elected when less than ten percent of the population believes in their political agenda. We are not satisfied with being governed by politicians who never knew what it is to be poor, to be discriminated against, to work, to struggle !” The audience cheers again, and Enjolras grins, galvanised. Even Grantaire almost seems to believe in what he says, when he's got this kind of fire in his eyes. When he realizes this, Enjolras’s smile grows even bigger. “It's time we show this kind of people that we exist. It's time they realize we're not going to stay quiet and stay still while they pulverise every single human right that our ancestors fought for and sacrificed for. We are ungovernable!” This time some people at the bar start applauding and standing up to follow Enjolras. Courfeyrac whistles, enthusiastic. Combeferre seems a little more worried for his friend, but there's pride in his gaze. “Comrades,” Enjolras says again, “today is a turning point in French democracy. After tonight, nothing will ever be the same. Our system has failed us. French citizens held onto it for so long, because they believed it was the only way to express our opinions. Do you know why they believed that ? Because they were never given an alternative. They were never shown that there are other ways, there are other systems. French representative democracy is dead. Let's not cry over its corpse for too long, but instead prepare for its successor! Power to the people!” The audience explodes into cheers. Enjolras is grinning so hard Grantaire thinks he's going to get blinded forever by the light that emanates from him.

 May 7th, 19:54

“What if everything was actually a joke and Poutou is the real winner of the election?” “What if Macron was actually an anarchist that tried to infiltrate the government in order to destroy it from the inside ?” “What if Le Pen won but it's actually just Russia interfering and Hollande discovers it ?” “What if you just shut up with your theories Courfeyrac?” Courfeyrac pouts but he knows that Enjolras is actually just terribly, terribly nervous. No one in this bar wants Macron as a president, of course, but the alternative being Le Pen, well, they'd be quite relieved to see the banker's face at eight o'clock. “Everyone should shut up, actually,” Combeferre declares, quietly aggressive. We're going to have the results in five minutes. Just drink, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, everyone. It'll get easier.” “Ah, Combeferre, always the voice of reason.” It's Grantaire, of course, as if the prospect of drinking was enough to wake him up from his semi-trance of the afternoon. He feels less strongly about the election ; not having campaigned that much, actually. He helped the ABC, of course, that's what he does. But his own soul was not as much in the action as Enjolras’s or Combeferre’s was, for example. “Drink with me, fearless leader,” he says, and Enjolras rolls his eyes. “There's no leader in an anarchist society, Grantaire.” “But anarchy can't work, and you know this.” “If we keep saying it's impossible and we don't try to change the world and the mentalities to make it possible then yes-” “Guys, I don't want to interrupt, but there's like eleven seconds left.” The room gets quiet. They hold their breath. “The new president of France is,” Pujadas announces, “Emmanuel Macron !”. They breathe again. “OK, OK, it's alright, she lost, we're fine.” Cosette declares, breaking the silence that seems to have taken the room. “Now we fight against him.”

May 7th, 20:01 For the people of France, a new fight is starting. (Until the Earth is free).

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 10

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: thanks for waiting! I normally post in the mornings but life happened and this is also a super important chapter (lol, they all are) that I needed to make sure was prepared to launch us into phase 3. (yesss, there are phases!) as always, thanks for reading, and let me know how it went!!

Chapter 10. Blue & Grey

series masterlist

Yuri steps into the back a moment later, coming to lean up against the counter beside me as I struggle to free myself from Taehyung’s gaze. In the span of a single blink, his eyes soften and he’s wearing a pleasant expression as Yuri begins to speak.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important with me?” Yuri urges, looking a little worried yet elated to have such prominent figures in her small bread shop. Namjoon nods hastily, sparing me a glance.

“Yes, thanks for seeing us. We know that this is a little...strange, perhaps. But we wanted to make sure everything was settled before things can get out of hand.”

Of course, my heart begins to race a little more. “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

For all the world, Taehyung looks like he’s ready to answer me, but Namjoon responds before he can get a chance. “Yuri, I’m assuming that you’re aware of Jolie’s, erm...accident.”

“Oh, of course,” she offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything you’re here for.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look before turning back to Yuri and I. Clinging to my apron which I have yet to remove, I pray that they can’t see the slight tremor in my hands. A thought passes through my mind, completely unbidden and foreign. Before I’m able to stop myself, the words dive off my tongue.

“Is...is he alright?”

Taehyung’s gaze snaps to me, brows furrowing as he looks genuinely confused. Namjoon, however, takes in my white knuckles and hunched shoulders, and gently smiles.

Before Namjoon can reassure me, however, Taehyung jumps in. “He’s fine. We’re here to discuss other things, however.”

The way that Namjoon doesn’t say anything to cross Taehyung has me realizing that while he may be the leader, this is a completely different ballgame.

It’s me, Jimin’s disgraced soulmate, against Taehyung, his proclaimed soulmate.

I know a losing game when I see one.

“Right. Yuri, we’ve got to discuss some sensitive information with you today. Would you be willing to sign an NDA?” Namjoon steers us back on course, even as Yuri glances back and forth between Taehyung and I.

“Oh. Y-yes, of course.”

Clapping his hands together, Namjoon dives right in. “Perfect. Well, I would like to discuss a few things with you. Taehyung-”

“Yep.” Without leaving me an opportunity to ask questions, Taehyung is coming to stand before me. “While Namjoon is explaining some things to your boss, we’re going to have a chat.”

Glancing over at Namjoon, who is leading Yuri to one corner of the large room, near the storage area, I receive no mercy. When I turn to look back at Taehyung, I catch him staring down at my thread with a faraway look in his eyes.

Needing to have something to keep me going while I receive what I’m sure is going to be a royal chewing out, I turn to head over to the worktable.

“You talk, I’ll knead.”

✂

I’ve learned something about Taehyung in the past few minutes.

He doesn’t hate me as much as he would like for me to think he does.

It was quiet for a long moment as I sprinkled flour over the worktable and pulled out a slab of dough I had been planning to let some of the other employees use later on in the day. With my heart in my throat, I began to beat it into shape. For about a minute, the only sound in the workroom was the sound of the dough against the table and Namjoon’s hushed conversation with Yuri.

Taehyung sidles next to me, the silence suddenly becoming blaringly loud as he watches my hands. Over and over again, I roll the dough. Once it’s sufficiently loose and pliable, I begin to shape it.

“So this is your job?”

He can’t keep the curious tone out of his voice, and I glance over at him to see his wide eyes flitting between me and the dough. Almost as though he can’t quite believe it.

“What did you think I did?” I ask, not able to refrain from my sarcastic streak. “Buried bodies?”

Just like that, whatever angry storm clouds were lingering in his eyes dissipate and he laughs. Laughs loud enough that both Namjoon and Yuri pause in their conversation before continuing.

“Honestly,” he confesses, “something like that. Yeah.”

I snort, returning to the dough. “Nice.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

“How to bake bread?” I ask, curious at his change in attitude. I see him nod in my peripheral.

“Yeah. I think it looks amazing. Very therapeutic.” He pauses, and I can almost see the thought bubble hovering over his head. “We have a pretty big table at the house, you could probably use it. Or does it have to be a certain material?”

A part of me freezes under the nonchalant mention of the house he shares with my soulmate. The way he’s testing the waters, assessing me for any kind of reaction.

Another thing that I’m learning about Kim Taehyung: he picks up on everything.

“Er...what kind of table is it? Like, is it a countertop or-”

“Oh, yeah. The big one is the kitchen island. It’s a granite countertop I think...Namjoon hyung!”

There’s no need to yell, but he does anyway.

“What?” Namjoon asks, bewildered but used to this kind of behavior.

Taehyung turns back to me, shrugging. “It probably is. Would that work?”

I blink, wondering if it’s ok for me to laugh at what just happened. Shouldering through it, I focus on the dough again. “Yeah, granite’s great for dough.”

Taehyung looks lost in thought, but I’m starting to realize that I should always be on my toes around him. Indeed, he recovers quickly and decides to finally discuss what he came here to talk about.

“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know what really happened,” he states quietly enough that there’s no way Yuri can hear him from across the room. A simple shake of my head is all it takes to confirm what he said. Glancing around the room, he notices the back door.

“I think it might be best if we step out back for a moment.” Taehyung takes a step toward the door before stopping to look back at me where I stand with the dough still in my hands. “Unless you need to finish that first…?”

I shake my head, pushing the dough back into a metal bowl and covering it up with a cloth. Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I follow Taehyung to the back alleyway. The sun is nearing the highest point in the sky, bearing down on us and filling my bones up with a little warmth despite the general chill in the air.

Taehyung makes his way to the opposite wall of the alley, looking around as though checking for spies before facing me. There’s no need for me to question him as to what’s going on, he can see the question clearly in my eyes.

“We have a Muster coming up in less than two days,” he begins, crossing his arms. “Jimin is going to perform on stage for the final song.”

It takes a moment for me to fully understand what that means.

“They’ll see what happened,” Taehyung continues, watching my every movement. “And I think it’ll be all too easy for people to see you and instantly accuse you. Which, they won’t be wrong. But still, it could get ugly.”

I know what he’s implying. Suddenly life will become a burning hell for the scarce few that have a severed thread. Which, by my understanding, is no more than a handful.

Immediately my thoughts go to Christina. “What about those people that have nothing to do with it but could be accused?” It would be devastating for her to think that she’d been the one to bring Jimin so much pain.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side. “You keep surprising me.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “That’s what we’re here for today. In order to protect those people and you, Bighit has to come up with some sort of cover story. Make it really seem like an accident. We just need to keep you out of sight while things get straightened out.”

Dread, cold as ice as just as sharp, sluices through my veins. “No.”

I can tell that this, at least, Taehyung was expecting. “You don’t have a choice-”

“So you want me to hide away forever?” I hiss, rocking back on my heels. “People will find out soon enough. And they’ll rip me to shreds!”

That cold fire from before is back and blazing in Taehyung’s eyes as he listens to my objections. “No! They won’t, that’s the whole point. They’ll understand that it was an accident-”

“Which they’ll immediately want to fix!” I shout, the sound echoing down the alleyway. “You don’t understand, no matter what you tell people, this ends up with me being forced right back where I was before.”

“And where was that?” Taehyung seethes, taking a step forward and making me stumble back. Those hawk-like eyes see how I react, but there’s no pity in them. “How horrible for you to be stuck with someone that would only love you. That would never ask for anything in return. That just wanted - wants still - nothing more than to be linked to you in any way possible.”

The confession falls flat in the face of my fear, however it’s something I know will come back to haunt me later. Instead, I allow my roaring emotions to take over even as I find that my back is now pressed against the wall.

“Of course I want that!” I shout, and Taehyung blinks. “Of course I want him! Did you want me to go to your house and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, and then teach you how to bake bread like some big happy family? Did you want me to tell you all about how the first and last thing I think about every day is Park Jimin and how I know the perfect way to hate myself for cutting this?” Throwing my hand up into the air I bite down the sobs that try to surface. “I sat and watched this thread burn not because I didn’t want him, but because I had to remove myself from his life before I could enter it.”

I can see the objection brewing in Taehyung’s mind, but I stop him.

“Jimin is not the problem,” I sigh out, utterly exhausted. “He became everything to me the second I saw him, but he is everything to everyone. I...I can’t be that. I don’t think I ever can.”

Taehyung’s eyes clear, and he looks down at me with sudden understanding. I want to lash out, writhe under that understanding, but I can’t stop the way his thoughts seemingly click together.

“I- Jolie, you’re not a puzzle that’s missing a piece. You don’t have to suddenly click into a pattern that everyone else has. You’re a human being,” Taehyung says reverently, and I wonder for a moment if someone has said this to him before. “You are allowed to just bake bread for the rest of your life, if you want. Nobody is going to ask you to stand on the stage, not even Jimin.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t keep doing the same thing if I’m with him. I have to be more, somehow.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung admits. “Just because you’re allowed to be comfortable and hide away doesn’t mean you should. It’s tempting, I’ll give you that much.” He shrugs, still looking at me with that new light. “But you’re allowed to learn at your own pace, venture out of your comfort zone when you feel brave enough to do it. Just know this: most people never feel brave enough but do it anyway.”

“Why?”

Holding up his left hand where his deep red thread extends to the ground and through the back door, he smiles softly. “We deem the risk worth it, in the end.”

I’m just processing the fact that I had a screaming match with Taehyung when Namjoon pokes his head out into the alleyway. Both Taehyung and I turn to face him, looking guilty.

“I told you that I’d have to end up explaining everything,” he remarks drily. “Did you two manage to discuss the plan?”

Somehow, as Taehyung and I sheepishly shake our heads, I feel like I’ve made an ally in an enemy.

✂

Jolie (Elle): This is me telling you that I’m still alive, as you requested.

Me: Wow. That bad of a day? Are you going to take a nap?

Jolie (Elle): Literally as soon as I get home. I have to stop by the store and grab some cat food, Elle nearly murdered me in my sleep over it last night.

Me: I can literally feel your exhaustion through the phone.

Me: Was work ok??

Jimin has to wait a little while for a response. He just got a text from Namjoon, notifying him that they were headed to the Bighit building. When he asked him how it went with Jolie, he’d only received a vague answer.

It did nothing to calm his nerves. Especially knowing that Taehyung, even though he’d promised him that he’d stay calm, had gone in there with no shortage of wrath.

Jolie (Elle): Fine

He’d been afraid of that.

Me: 😟

Me: I’m so sorry, sounds like today has officially sucked

Jimin stares down at his phone, waiting for some sort of response.

Jolie (Elle): No need to apologize.

Jolie (Elle): It was my fault anyways.

“No,” Jimin whispers to himself, eyes wide as his fingers fly across the screen. Before he can even think about the message, he sends it. All he wants is to stop this ache in his chest that he’s sure Jolie feels as well.

Me: I wish I was there.

Three little dots appear on his screen, Jolie typing a message, but then they disappear. A moment later, they come back and a message follows.

Jolie (Elle): It’s fine, really. Texting is enough, I really appreciate it

The butterflies that erupt in Jimin’s stomach are enough to make a grown man cry, but he knows deep down that a text is not enough. Bringing his phone to his ear, he listens to the ringing. Taehyung and Namjoon walk through the door of the practice room right as Jimin begins to speak.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order.”

✂

There’s something on my porch.

I noticed the little pop of color as I began up the stairs to my apartment, carrying a grocery bag with catnip and a bar of chocolate, my excuse for a pickmeup. It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized what it was that was waiting for me.

A bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, white and pink hydrangeas are waiting for me. They have a dewy shimmer to them, catching the sunlight just right.

Obviously, this is a mistake.

“Elle, look at these,” I coo as I shoulder open the door. Immediately the white cat appears, sniffing at the bag filled with catnip rather than the flowers. “Nooo, not that. The flowers.”

She doesn’t care about the flowers, apparently. Giving in, I gingerly set the flowers on the counter and get to work setting her food out. Once Elle is feasting away, I turn back to the flowers.

“Now, who were you supposed to be delivered to?” I hum, plucking the small envelope from amidst the arrangement. Taking a generous whiff, I close my eyes as the sweet aroma fills my senses. “Ugh, whoever they are, they’re lucky. These are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Again, Elle proves that she really couldn’t care less about the floral arrangement on the counter. Except to maybe knock it over, perhaps.

Slipping open the envelope, I take in the short message.

Jolie,

Because a text isn’t enough.

-PJM

“PJM?”I breathe out, staring at those initials with wide eyes. My breath comes up short as I reread the card again and again, flipping it over to see if there’s anything else. Some sort of clue.

“Elle, these are for us.”

The only response I get is a lazy swish of her tail, but I’m not paying attention to her anyway. All I’m looking at is that bouquet of flowers that’s meant for me after all.  

Ripping my phone out of my back pocket, I open it up to my text conversation with Jaemin. Scrolling through his concerned texts, trying to see if I’m doing alright. With shaking hands, I type out the letters.

Me: PJM?

✂

“She’s not ready to know the truth,” Taehyung reports.

Jimin sits beside him on the couch, arms crossed and looking out the window with a glazed expression. The other members listen to every word that Namjoon and Taehyung are saying, finally getting a full report of the events at the bread shop.

Nevermind the fact that it’s been hours and it’s nearly midnight.

“What? That Jimin’s actually Jaemin?” Jin stretches a little, bumping into Yoongi who hardly notices. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that much of a stretch.”

Taehyung shrugs, glancing over at Jimin who has yet to say anything. “We talked-”

“Screamed,” Namjoon corrects. Jimin perks up at this.

“What were you screaming about?”

Taehyung assesses his friend, deeming him capable of receiving this information. “You. Her own insecurities. Bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook questions, but it goes unanswered.

“Some part of her wants to be with you,” Taehyung explains, completely overlooking Jungkook’s curious expression. “But she’s freaked out. Kind of like how Jungkook mentioned before, when you first started texting. She’s so in her own head that it’s hard for her to see that you wouldn’t demand her to become some sort of celebrity.”

“She thinks that I would?” Jimin asks. He left his phone in his bedroom, deciding to leave Jolie’s simple question, PJM?, until after he’d had a chance to discuss it with everyone. He knew what she was asking. It was a deliberate choice of his to put his initials on the card rather than the fake name.

He couldn’t stomach her thinking that the flowers were from some random Jaemin, when they were in fact from him.

Her soulmate.

“No, not necessarily. She said that she feels like she would have to become something more, though. Purely because you are who you are. And I think that’s something that really scares her.”

It’s also something that Jimin doesn’t know how to fix. “If she’s not willing to get out of her own head, then how am I supposed to help her?”

Namjoon pipes up. “She seemed a lot better, though. I think, whatever she’s doing, she’s getting better. Chung-hei mentioned that she’s seeing a therapist, actually.”

Jimin sits back. “Good. That’s good.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “What did she say about the plan?”

The plan. It wasn’t much of a plan. In reality, it was more of a precaution than anything. They all knew that everything would be a mess after Jimin goes back into the public eye, and Jolie would be at risk by just stepping foot outside her door.

“She agreed to be chauffeured,” Namjoon says. “I mean, obviously she’s not happy about it, but she said she understood.”

Jolie would be picked up in the morning and after her shift by a nondescript car driven by Bighit employees. Anytime she needed groceries, they would pick them up for her. Do anything they can to keep her out of the public eye.

“I’m kind of surprised that she agreed,” Jimin admits. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

There’s a grumble of agreement, and soon after the boys are dispersing. Only one day left until the Muster, tomorrow was going to be busy with final rehearsals and preparations.

Jimin heads up to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the short message from hours earlier.

Jolie (Elle): PJM?

Sighing and ignoring the nerves in his stomach, Jimin just prays that all is not lost.

Me: Yes?

For now, she’s asleep. He doesn’t expect a response anytime soon. Rolling over and facing the wall, Jimin tries his best to close his eyes and let everything roll off his shoulders.

She’s bound to find out sometime.

✂

Jimin’s hands are sweaty as he paces below stage, listening to the roar of the crowd as his brothers perform above him.

The Muster came all too quickly.

Yesterday passed in a blur, consisting of Jimin checking his phone every few minutes only to find it void of any incoming messages. In his heart of hearts, he knew.

She must suspect that her newfound friend is her soulmate in disguise.

It’s with this knowledge that Jimin steps onto the lift, waiting for his brothers to finish their goodbyes before going up for the encore performance.

Looking around him, Jimin watches the staff and stage crew bustling about, preparing for the end of the Muster. Needless to say, his gaze wanders to the countless threads that overlap and lead in every direction. It’s always amazed him, how they never get tangled. How nobody ever trips over them.

Jimin has always marveled at the fact that somehow, somewhere on the other end of those threads is another person. Someone just as busy, just as oblivious to the lifeform attached to them through indescribable means.

Park Jimin has always been told that he would be the best soulmate.

He’s kind, and considerate. Loving and forgiving beyond all comprehension.

It’s something that he has believed is a lie. Every night, even before Jolie cut the very thing that tied them together, he’d lay in bed and stare at that red thread. Wondering what would happen when his soulmate was inevitable disappointed in the fact that their star-studded soulmate was just...him.

Tonight though, as the lift carries him up toward the stage and the beginning cords of “Blue & Grey” begin to play, he begins to believe.

He would be the best soulmate.

Perhaps this is the moment where he proves it. Without hatred, without envy. Without a wounded look in his eyes.

With that conviction humming in his bones, he rises to the stage and walks out under the spotlight.

The arena around him booms with sound as Jimin walks toward where his brothers sit in a semicircle. They gleam with sweat, still breathing heavily after their last performance. As Jimin takes a seat, he looks out into the crowd.

He sees the exact moment they realize what’s missing.

Or rather, hears.

That roar of the crowd, his ARMY so happily welcoming him back to the stage after his long absence, turns to deafening silence.

Into the silence, Jimin sings.

Blue & Grey plays out, Jimin raising the mic to his mouth and singing his parts with a steady voice. He waits for the end, hoping that the CG team in charge of the large screen behind him was able to carry out his request in time.

Taehyung sings the final words, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. And behind Jimin, three letters are traced out across the screen.

PJM.

As soon as the song is finished, the boys get up from their seats and make their way to the lift. They shoot Jimin curious looks as they spot his initials, but he shrugs it off for now. He can only hope that the person it was intended for saw them.

They’ve just made it to the lift when the wailing begins, the crowd having finally broken free of the spell that Blue & Grey wove over them.

“Saranghae Army!” Jimin shouts into the mic, smiling softly. The other members begin to bid them goodbye, reassuring them. They all know it will do little, already a few members of the crowd are inconsolable, but they do it nonetheless.

✂

“Twitter is blowing up right now,” Christina says, scrolling through her feed. I lay on her couch, staring at her television.

I’d come here to see if I sounded like a crazy person for taking Jaemin’s initials so seriously. However, I can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

Naturally, I’ve ignored the problem by not responding to him for a day. I’d say it’s a step up from what I’ve done in the past. At least I’m not cutting him out of my life, right?

“Isn’t it always blowing up over something?” I drawl. When I don’t get a response, I look over to see what the big deal is about.

Christina sits up in her chair, hand thrown over her mouth as her wide eyes stare at her phone.

“What? What happened?”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I...you need to see this.” Screen-sharing with her TV, a stage replaces our episode. “He went public. It’s official.”

Ah, right. I’d also come to give Christina a fair warning about what was about to happen. Jimin going public today was the other thing occupying all of my thoughts, but I didn’t realize just how big it would be until I see the impact he had at the Muster.

Heart racing and stomach churning, I watch as Jimin appears on stage.

“Wow, that’s a statement,” Christina comments. “Doing ‘Blue & Grey’ as his comeback song?” She catches my eye, realizing who she’s speaking to. “Oh. Right.”

As Jimin settles down and Taehyung begins to sing, I find myself utterly entranced by him. He looks calm. Confident.

The world falls silent in what I assume is the moment people begin to notice that there are only six, not seven, red threads up on stage tonight.

Jimin doesn’t falter in the silence. Instead, he fills it with his voice.

“I’d forgotten,” I croak out. The rest of the words won’t come easily, but thankfully Christina understands what I mean.

“Yeah. He has a beautiful voice, doesn’t he?”

Wordlessly, we watch the rest of the performance. I can’t help but notice the fact that the cameras never pan too far so as to not see Jimin. I’m sure that they’re just as shocked as everyone else is.

As the song comes to an end, I find that somehow my eyesight has become blurry. I can’t quite tell what’s on the screen behind the boys even as Christina begins to shout.

“Look! He- he’s confirming it! Look!”

Rubbing madly at my eyes, I get a closer look at what’s on the screen. The second I see it, I stop breathing altogether.

PJM.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“It’s him.”

Christina leans forward as the video ends, looking at me for a moment before laughing. “I mean, are we actually surprised? He didn’t try that hard to hide it, now did he? Park Jaemin, seriously?”

As much as I would love to laugh at this moment, I find that I can’t.

My new friend. The one I would scramble to read whenever I got a notification. The one that constantly checked up on me.

The one obsessed with my cat.

“How?” I breathe out.

Christina doesn’t bother to offer a reply, just watching me as the gears shift in my head. No answers are forthcoming, of course. Just the small sliver of truth that keeps on coming back.

“My soulmate is my friend,” I say. It’s obvious, but it’s important.

Jimin is my friend.

Letting out a sigh, Christina nods. “Yes. Your friend.”

The only other coherent thought that crosses my mind has me getting to my feet and slipping my jacket on over my shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘need to go’?” Christina gets up after me, following me to the door. “Aren’t we hitting a major breakthrough right now? Your estranged soulmate is also your friend. Park Jimin isn’t just some celebrity, he’s your friend. Someone you can trust. I mean, sure, this doesn’t mean you have to barge up to his house and see him. That would be weird anyways, because then the thread would reconnect and only extend a few feet, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. It’s weird, because it’s almost like the thread has a mind of its own, you know? In order to defend itself upon reconnection, it keeps a short distance between the soulmates until it's sure they’re safe-”

“Christina.” I turn around to face her, one hand on the door. “He’s my friend, right? A good friend.”

She nods, looking a little confused. “Yeah, I thought we already established that.”

“Friends deserve an explanation, right?”

Christina blinks, looking a little nervous. “You’re not going to visit him, right? You should take the proper precautions for that, you never know how the bond with react-”

“I’m not going to see him,” I reassure her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Before she can question me further, I’m out the door. Keeping my head down as I head out on the main road and pass a group of teenagers, I overhear their shocked conversation.

“How does that even work, though?”

“I don’t know, but my dad’s cousin nearly had his thread cut-”

“I bet it’s all for publicity,” another remarks. “Don’t know why they need it, though.”

“Why would they cut a thread for publicity? Idiot, it’s probably CG. Maybe they did it to raise awareness or something.”

I don’t get to hear how their conversation ends before a black SUV pulls off to the side of the road and a woman sticks her head out of the window.

“Hey,” she flashes the ID hanging around her neck. I recognize it as a Bighit ID. “Operation Chauffeur is in full effect now. Hop in.”

It’s unsettling how they found me so quickly, but I distinctly remember agreeing to this plan just a couple of days ago. Sliding into the backseat, I ask the driver to take me home.

“Your name is Jolie?” The woman asks, hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

“I’m Sunmi. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

✂

As I finally bid Sunmi goodnight - she’s oddly friendly for a Bighit staff member that’s typically charged with driving BTS around - I stumble into my apartment and head straight toward my room. Elle hasn’t arrived back home yet, probably still out on her nightly jaunt.

Which, apparently included Jimin without me even knowing it.

Flipping the light on to my room, I see that the Seoul City Electric envelope is exactly where I left it.

Sitting down at my desk and finding an empty page in a notebook, I take a deep breath.

Once I exhale, I begin to write.

And write.

And write.

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Gaming And Film: The Tomb Raider Example

A golden opportunity has arisen. I get to make another example of the star crossed genres, Film and Video Games. Two narrative forces bound by their visual narratives, but separated by a single major mechanic: Control. But a new challenger has arrived, or rather a returning challenger, another gaming legend. Tomb Raider. The gods have deigned Square Enix another chance at the big screen after their massive flop at the box office over 20 years ago with their own classic title, Final Fantasy. Gaming has made its way back to the big screen with Tomb Raider “parenthesis 2018 film” starring the legend herself, Lara Croft. Well, it stars a real actress, Alicia Vikander, but you know what I mean. Gaming has its own stars. Previously, this role had been played twice before by Angelina Jolie in Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) and Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life (2003). This gave me a very unique opportunity to take a jump back in time to gaming’s initial foray into the world of the Third Dimension (3D), its replication of cinematic narrative structure, and all of the freedom that comes with giving the player the ability walk around in that space, instead of just watching. It was during this 3D polygon era that cinema took a fundamentally flawed stance to the translation from game to film; they tried to duplicate as much of the minor details as possible in effort to reanimate and profit from a movie going audience. In doing so, they sacrificed the heart of good cinema trying to capture the flavor of the game, hoping that the only thing fans would need is a the skeletal carcass of their favorite game.

By the time that first installment of  Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) had hit the screens, there had been 4 full games released, none of which would ultimately become the story of the film. They surmised that simply making a film that imitated its main attraction, a (British) woman who raids tombs for treasure, would suffice. And in a way, this might be the most correct course of action. There had already been series of similar action films to take from, including Indiana Jones, James Bond, Mission Impossible, and Jackie Chan’s Armor of the Gods. With the games already pulling inspiration from these existing films, intentionally or not, it doesn’t seem that unreasonable to think that a film version of Tomb Raider would succeed at the box office.  All they needed was to eject the male as the lead and pop some abnormally large breasts on an otherwise perfectly attractive female figure. But then the real question becomes, why make this film based on a video game character at all? Obviously brand recognition and the all mighty dollar, both domestic and international, but wouldn’t they need more to really entice both the fans and the uninitiated alike? And this exposes an issue with the Hollywood mindset that, while I have come to understand, I can’t abide or come to terms with. Forsaking the heart of intelligible film making in favor of a return on investment. When art and capitalism mix in which the art comes second, the audience usually loses, and the house of Hollywood usually wins or breaks even. Because for the audience, what’s on the line is a chance to make a good video game into a great movie, and if that movie flops, then investors look at not just the game franchise, but all gaming films as a risky or unworthy investment. Stranger still however, is what ended up happening with Tomb Raider. It returned big on its initial run, almost certainly powered by Jolie’s star power. But when you make a cheap, flimsy version of  a game into film, and it works, it becomes the model that all video game films run on. We end up being served a deformed representation of something that, in my opinion, never stood a chance of becoming anything more than a cash grab. (See: Resident Evil (2002) starring Milla Jovovich)

At no point does Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) or its sequel try to become more than a cheap representation of its source material sewn together using existing action-adventure movie tropes. The original games themselves offer little more than an exploratory cave diving, gun slinging shell for people to play in. Games (at the time) were not as harshly criticized for taking huge leaps in story, tone, or realism, but the films never really took that risk. In the game, Lara shoots at bats, bears, and wolves while cave diving. Yet, both Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) and The Cradle of Life (2003) look indistinguishably bland compared to other films of their era like LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring, Swordfish, Training Day, Jurassic Park III, Pirates of the Caribbean, Kill Bill, The Matrix Reloaded, and many more. Granted these budgets are a bit more inflated, even their smaller moments are better than Jolie’s biggest. In fact, some of the stunts seem to come right out of the Mission: Impossible series. Taking a game thats little more than an empty, fun action platformer and trying to build an entire film franchise around it without adding some spark of originality or building any sense of a larger world for its characters will ultimately lead to a lackluster, forgotten film. Anybody watching these movies today are only returning because they might be a fan of the franchise, which might be the only win under the belt these films, but it’s another loss for gaming, gamers, and film.

Moving into the next generation of consoles and computers, as games become more modern, they began to more deftly integrate cinematic techniques. Game creators can control the world, the camera, and the characters with complete freedom, unlike film which has to worry about pesky things like props, actors, and reality. In 2013, Tomb Raider was re-imagined by Crystal Dynamics and published by Square Enix. They created a more sleek and vibrant world that embraced a mixture of realism and paranormal. Lara was modernized, made a bit more youthful, and her skillset was more refined and deadly. She went from a caricature to a character and her adventure matured into something a bit more robust. Coupled with expert pacing, the new Lara Croft moves through her deadly environment and faces foes head-on in the same vein as Indiana Jones. Only she is a bit more willing to pull the trigger or sling an arrow. I don’t want to continuously gush about this game, so to summarize, I will just say this game was by far one of my favorite action games in this last generation. This reinvisioned version would become the basis for the recently released Tomb Raider (2018), and I was excited to see what kind of adaptation would spring forth. After the many, many Hollywood failures, had gaming finally caught up so completely to cinema, possibly even overtaken it, that it could allow for an easy transition from game to film?

As much as I don’t want to spend the entirety of this review discussing the differences between the film and the exact game it was based on, that is technically the point of this article. Still, I’ll spare you a lengthy diatribe and stick to the key differences between Jolie and Vikander’s Lara Croft. In this version, the realistically re-imagined Lara Croft is crafty with a bow instead of guns, inexperienced instead of an expert, and hasn’t attended any higher learning in pursuit of abandoning her heritage to find her own way. These also happen to be departures from the Crystal Dynamics’ Lara Croft as well. However, I found that these character changes spoke the language of cinema better, making for a more relatable character, especially for late millennials and gen Z at which this version is aimed.

Tomb Raider (2018) stars the new Lara Croft (Alicia Vikander) as she takes on the challenge of living life as a broke young woman in the big city. But, a twist, the young lady is broke by choice, turning down the opportunity to take up her family name and with it , the family business. Angry that her father, Lord Richard Croft (Dominic West), never returned from a business trip and is considered dead, she mounts a personal battle against her heritage. Through a series of turns, she finds a final message from her father in a secret bunker outside her family estate, warning her to burn all of his research just in case some bad guys come looking for it. Instead, of course, she sets out to find the last place he was said to have visited, enlisting the son of the man, Lu Ren (Daniel Wu), whose boat was to have taken her father to his final resting place. At this point the film finally takes a similar shape to the game, introducing Mathis Vogal (Walton Goggins) as the leader of digging team sent to find the treasure of Lady Himeko’s tomb. Vogal has been employing as slaves shipwrecks and treasure hunters who have come to the island in search of such a treasure.

At this point, I would like to praise this film for actually making a decent adaptation of the game. The actors are great, the story is pretty tight, and they do a pretty good job keying you into just how far Lara will have push herself to get what she wants. Unlike Jolie, who was characterized as a fearless expert, Vikander is an inexperienced young girl who struggles at almost every turn. Throughout the film, she misses, she loses, and she takes hits, which is similar to the game, except when you lose the game, it had some pretty incredible death scenes. But in a way, I personally liked her Crystal Dynamics video game persona better. She was both experienced and still struggled. She used her wit and cunning to elude her captors. In the 2018 film, Lara spends most of the runtime falling into situations and just kind of winging it, but not with tools or weapons found in the game, mostly just through luck. My only other criticism is a bit of a spoiler if you have played the game and not seen the movie or have seen the movie but not played the game. But here it is. The film rejects the concept of the supernatural, which is one of the biggest reasons I wanted to see the film after having played the game. The game continuously hints at the supernatural, but only towards the end do we actually see it in action, which totally caught me off guard. I half expected some ancient local tribe would be behind some form of sabotage from the shadows, like in an episode of Scooby Doo. But how does this stack up as a video game film? Can we build a new legacy from here?

Well, unlike the Jolie era, video games and film are not so different anymore. In fact, film often doesn’t have the runtime to contain an entire video game plot into a single movie. The golden age of television would be a better place for your favorite game stories. Japanese anime has been doing this for years with shows like Star Ocean EX and Persona 4 The Animation. In a very short time, film has been surpassed as an entertainment medium in size, scope, and runtime/playtime. But the one thing that you can feel has really changed in Hollywood is that they no longer underestimate the need for authenticity in the transition. Gaming films are getting better because gaming has become better. The stories they tell are taken more seriously, and triple-A titles have bigger budgets than some triple-A films. Gaming companies could be looking to invest in adaptations to film, seeing them as an extended product to their own. With that dollar power and some guaranteed butts in seats, we should be able to expect better films. I would like to imagine if both Godzilla and King Kong can be re-imagined into great films that also get to share the same universe as a plethora of tokusatsu monsters that gaming can get of its ass and produce some better films. Still, it was only 2 years ago that Resident Evil: The Final Chapter (2016) was released, ending a series of terrible video game films that did nothing to elevate games as critically good films. Assassin's Creed (2016) also didn’t help.

The thing is, we don’t need video games adapted into film. Gaming has its own thing going on, and when it’s done right, it does it all bigger and better. But, if we are going to continue to see them pushed into film, let’s at least get a few things straight. First, there is a balance between authentic and creative. Take care to have a vision for the film beyond simply taking a bird’s eye view of the game and applying that visual to the film. The old Tomb Raider was built on the back of action genre films we had already seen and for the most part lacked any sense of creativity. It was authentic to its source from afar, but up close it offered nothing for fans beyond a push-up bra and two guns. Second, be aware of the scope of the game’s world. More and more games are open world, meaning that the world is going to be as much a character in its own right, so don’t forget that it exists. Even older games can have a vibrant world. A good example is Castlevania, which saw an amazing mini-series produced by Netflix. The story was small, but it never betrays the world in which it takes place. Now more than ever, the lines between gaming and cinema have all but been erased, so narratively, you can take a much more direct approach to the translation. Feel free to rewrite the story as long as it doesn’t forsake the game’s characteristics. Games are no longer manufactured for control alone, they have well thought out characters, themes, and motifs, all with a joined motive. If Lara Croft has taught us anything, take calculated leaps, not blind jumps into the abyss.