#but also hitting myself like why are you wasting dash space

[lastlucis-blog]

listen, i’m a lowkey rper. i’m usually way too nervous and self-conscious to hit people up for things, to send memes ( tho these i find are easiest to attempt ), to ask for plots or threads or to be friends. i suck at plotting mostly because what even is my idea? it sounds so stupid once i think about approaching people to do it with me. i love my muse and i just love writing him, and i just want to write him with you. i tend to be far more serious in threads and i focus a lot on noct’s inner struggles than anything. i don’t know why i’m explaining this, except maybe just to put myself out there? like, this who i am type of thing. i try not to post to much ooc and if i do, i delete it. i try to keep non-writing posts to a minimum because i like my own writing ( now whether i’m good at writing noct is another matter ) and the point of this blog is to write. 

listen, i just want to love you all, and be loved in return ( moulin rouge begins playing here ok ) and i never know how to go about that without feeling like i’m annoying, unwanted, or not needed. maybe you have other muses you prefer. maybe you think my writing is mediocre. maybe i’m unapproachable. it’s probably just me making it all about me. and maybe this post is entirely selfish so it will be deleted soon.

point is, hi i’m ronan. i really love my muse and i followed you to write with you but i don’t know how to do that. 

[marmosa]

oi, is it hot in here?

Fred x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: my best friend came over yesterday and showed me a snippet of one of her george fics and then immediately hyped me up to write this one. girls and gays i present the aquamenti spell, enjoy ;) (this is so out of pocket, could you tell i was going thru it). also if anyone wants more george content please let me know, i’m a fred girl through and through, but i have no shame in showing some love to george <3

***

“Fred, just because we’re allowed to legally use magic now, doesn’t mean we’re legally obliged to,” [y/n] mumbled, flat out glaring at him as he pouted at her from across the library table, trying once again to convince her to duel with him.

“Just because we’re not required to, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be tons of fun. Come on [y/n], you know just as well as I do that you’re dying to try out some new spells,” Fred pleaded, reaching across the table and pushing the book she was using to shield her face from his relentless puppy dog eyes down.

“Even so Weasley, you’re going to get yourself in a spot of trouble you’re not going to know how to get out of. Just because I play coy doesn’t mean I wouldn’t absolutely smoke your arse if we did duel,” she hummed surely, straightening her posture to emphasize her sudden breath of confidence.

“Win? I doubt that,” Fred shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a mischievous idea bubbling to the surface of his mind, “No, you’re not bold enough to win.”

“I- me? Not bold enough?” [y/n] sputtered, incredibly offended at his insinuation but still trying her best to stand her ground, “I know what you’re trying to do y’know and I know you’re also full of shit. You wouldn’t last a second against me.”  

Fred glanced over at her, a smartass look on his face, “I think I could last at least two seconds, maybe five, maybe six, maybe a million, but you’re too much of a stick in the mud to find out.”

“I’m not a stick in the mud, I’m just smart enough to not let myself get dragged into your chaos- as fun as it is sometimes,” [y/n] mumbled the last bit, trying not to inflate his ego anymore than he needed, despite feeling no shame in admitting that his antics were usually paired with an inescapable rush of adrenaline.

“Yeah, whatever you say sweetheart,” Fred rolled his eyes, missing the quick crack in [y/n]’s composure at the pet name that practically rolled off his tongue with ease, “just don’t come crying to me when you get bored one afternoon and need someone to duel.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and felt her competitive need finally snap, “Listen here you dim-wit, if you want a duel so bad you’ll get a duel, but don't you come crying to me when I hand you your arse on a silver-lined platter.”

Fred sat up excitedly, tapping his fingers against the table, “See, there’s that competitive [y/n] I was hoping for. I appreciate the threat, but you might want to save that fire for the duel, you’re gonna need it.”

“You’re a twat, you know that?” [y/n] grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair.

“Only for you,” Fred winked, a shit-eating grin plaster on his face, “see you at the dueling grounds.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” [y/n] waved him off, biting back a smile.

***

“Aha! So you showed up in the end,” Fred cheered, dashing over and scooping [y/n] up in his arms, swinging her from side to side as she hung on for dear life.

As soon as he set her down she glared up at him like he’d just forced her to ride the worlds most dangerous roller coaster, “just because I was reluctant, doesn’t mean I’m a downer. I’m always true to my word Freddie.”

“Ahh,” He hummed low, crossing his arms and shrugging, tapping his chin inquisitively, “I suppose so. But what about that one time when you promised me that we’d go up to the tower and then you bailed-,”

“I had a potions exam to study for and my brain felt like it was melting, don’t you dare turn one on me. Last time I checked you were the one who bailed on me when we planned to go rob Filch of his-,” [y/n] started but was cut off when Fred pressed one of his hands against her mouth, shushing her with the other.

“You don’t want anyone to hear do you? That could get us in an enormous amount of trOUBLE- EW!” Fred hacked and jumped backwards, wiping his hand furiously against his jeans, “you’re a sick, sick woman.”

[y/n] grinned triumphantly, wiggling her eyebrows at his disgusted expression, “don’t lie, you loved it. Now come on, we came to duel, didn’t we?”

“You’re really testing my patience, [y/l/n],” Fred chuckled lowly, “but you’re right, get into position so I can completely ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” [y/n] hummed, winking at Fred as she shuffled into her spot, drawing her wand and bobbing it in her hand.

The duel began and the two made no waste of time jumping at each other, throwing charm after hex at one another, testing out every single spell in their arsenal (well the one’s that wouldn’t painfully injure or kill either of them anyway). It was electric, the wild passion for their craft buzzing excitedly behind their eyes, present in the way they danced around each other, avoiding spells and quickly returning them.

[y/n] felt a laugh bubble out of her chest when Fred disarmed her, dashing off to retrieve her tool, ducking as he fired another spell right over the top of her head. Fred couldn’t help but follow suit in laughter as she turned around and flung a disarming spell of her own, managing to hit him and send his wand flying farther away than he probably would’ve liked.

“Come on now, [y/n], you wouldn’t harm a totally helpless boy,” Fred pleaded teasingly, inching to the side while trying to maintain eye-contact with her, mostly for his own safety than showmanship.

“I told you when we started this Weasley, I wasn’t going to go easy on you,” [y/n] called out, jerking out her arm, “Aquamenti!”

Water sprung forth from her wand, shooting directly at Fred and knocking him clean to the floor, positively soaking him from head to toe. He sat up immediately, his mouth hanging open in shock, still processing what entirely had just happened.

“I won,” [y/n] muttered, cheer surging through her in unexpected waves, “I won!”

“Shut up!” Fred groaned from his spot on the floor, pushing himself up off the floor, the cold slowly but surely seeping into his bones, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

[y/n] bit back a smug grin, crossing her arms across her chest and tipping her head back as if she had just won a crown far too heavy for her head, “Sorry, what was that about me losing?”

Fred glared back at her, his narrowed eyes nearly on the brink of being completely shut, “Shut. Up,” he repeated, enunciating his pauses.

“Aww, is someone sad with the outcome,” [y/n] cooed, spinning around to face him as soon as she had retrieved his wand, her triumphant spirit being shoved aside as a more uncomfortable emotion took hold.

“Shut up and hand me my wand ya git,” Fred mumbled, snatching his wand back from her, “we get it, you won.”

[y/n] couldn’t help the heat that was crawling up her neck, suddenly hyperaware of the situation she was currently in. Why’d she chose that spell? Why’d she chose that spell in this random room, away from others, when he was wearing a crisp white dress shirt that was now clinging to him like a second skin- god she could see so much.

Fred glanced over at her with creased brows, confused at the sudden spot of silence, wondering what had gotten little miss triumphant to go so quiet. When he saw her shuffling through her book bag, an amused little smile wormed its way onto his face- oh he was going to have fun with this.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden, sweetheart?” Fred drawled, biting back a grin at the way she tensed her shoulders.

“No particular reason, just felt bad about rubbing in my victory s’all,” [y/n] replied, still shuffling through her bag for a, uh, pack of gum she could have sworn she had had earlier.

“You? Feel bad? About a dueling victory against me? Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me,” He shook his head, grabbing her shoulder and tugging her to her feet, “There’s something else.”

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, straining to avoid glancing down at his toned chest, “There is absolutely nothing else. Scout’s honor.”

Fred sported a smug grin as he leaned down to be eye level with her, his eyes raking over her face, noting her balled up fists shaking at her sides and her abnormally wide eyes, “Are you sure, you look awfully tense.”  

“I’m not tense,” she waved him off, feeling near the verge of combustion trying to control herself. It didn’t particularly help that he was staring at her like that while her mind raced through the hundreds of ways this interaction could go, her heart hammering in her chest at the suggestiveness of her thoughts.

“Come on, you can tell me, I won’t say anything out of line,” he bargained, trying his best to coax her out of whatever dumb act she was playing at.

“Again, I am completely fine,” she reassured him, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to subtly put some space between them.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Fred lilted, titling his head to the side slightly, “what, is something about me bothering you?”

[y/n] felt her stomach drop, so he did know, of course he knew, she wasn’t particularly inconspicuous about her dilemma, but she refused to let up now, “There is nothing about you that’s bothering me, Freddie.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is that you like what you see?” he teased, darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I-wait, now hold a minute-,” she began only to lose her voice as he backed her into one of the many pillars in that room, her palms pressing flat against the cool stone.

“See, I still don’t quite believe you,” he whispered, pressing his forearm over her head, placing the other on his hip as the water he’d been drenched in had practically sealed his pockets shut.

“And why not?” [y/n] struggled to maintain her composure, her resolve diminishing by the second.

“Because someone who’d didn’t like the view wouldn’t be staring at it so plainly,” He concluded, shamelessly eyeing her up and down.

[y/n] didn’t know if she wanted to curl up into a ball and die or yank him down by his collar and let him absolutely ravish her then and there, her mind was too clouded to pick one. Luckily, Fred seemed to be significantly more level-headed than she currently, which meant he made no waste of time taking the reigns of the situation.

“So, what if I did agree with you what then,” [y/n] muttered, looking down at her shoes, trying her best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’d say that you’re in luck because,” he placed his hand under her chin and tipped it back upwards, forcing her to look at him, “I’m enjoying my view just as much.”

“Well then, what’re you gonna do about it?” she quipped, shamelessly darting her eyes between his eyes and lips.

“I’d say kiss you, but only if you want it,” he replied, moving his hand up to cup her cheek.

“I do. I do want it, please Fred,” she pleaded, not even caring if she sounded desperate anymore, throwing her pride to the wind.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Fred leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pressing her off the pillar and into him. It quickly became something desperate, longing, all their pent up tension finally spilling out of their overfilled cup. [y/n] felt up his chest, smiling to herself as she concluded that it did feel as nice as it looked.

He made quick work of hoisting her up, linking his arms under her thighs and pressing her back against the wall, relishing in finally being able to touch her the way he so desperately wanted to for all those years. She did the same, tangling her fingers into the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, basking in the warmth coming from him despite his soaking wet clothing.

“Do you want to stop?” Fred asked softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her jaw and neck, “we don’t have to go any further.”

“As lovely as continuing sounds,” she breathed, smoothing his hair out of his face, “I don’t think we’re geared for that right now. And you need to get changed of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

“Good lord you sound like my mother,” Fred groaned, knocking his forehead on her shoulder.

“Did you really just bring up your mother right now,” [y/n] asked incredulously, wiggling her way out of his grip and back onto her own two feet, “that’s weird man.”

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t bring up my need of a change of clothes!” Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air to emphasize his point, “Besides, who’s fault is that?”

“Someone stupid probably,” [y/n] shrugged, picking up her robes and tossing them square at him, “wear those so you don’t get colder, if someone asks, you took a dip in the lake.”

“That’s even more unbelievable than just telling someone straight up what we were doing,” Fred replied, flat out, pulling on the robes that we’re obviously too short for him.

“Well too bad, loser of the duel has to follow the winner’s rules,” [y/n] shrugged, offering him a smug smile.

“Can we go back to a couple minutes ago when I’d managed to shut you up?” Fred quipped, crossing his arms as he pouted at her.

“Nope, no can do, you kissed me Weasley which means I have nothing more to be embarrassed about,” [y/n] sang, taking his hands and swinging them along with hers.

“Well I take it back!”

“Please no,” she frowned, sinking her shoulders.

Fred sighed and pulled her into a hug, his words muffled against her hair as he mumbled softly, “I could never say no to that face.”  

[echoghost1]

Dannymay 2021 Day 10: Shadow

The Brighter The Light, The Bigger the Shadow

Summary: It's been a month since the accident and Danny still doesn't have any control. Or anyone on his side.

Word Count: 2077

And today's fic is brought to you by the age-old "ask and you shall receive" except I can't promise that it will arrive in a timely manner.

This is part 2 to the fic I did for Phic Phight called, What You Fear The Most

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut as per usual!

also going to tag a few people because they reblogged the last one and really enjoyed it: @blueoatmeal, @another-shameless-fangirl, @ilikepensandships

Danny’s locker was stuck. Again.

He sighed and let the lock drop from his hand as he rested his forehead against the cool metal. This is not what he needed right now.

It had been almost a month since his accident and he still wasn’t in control. He wasn’t sure how he had been able to slip under the radar at home for so long. It kept him up at night knowing that eventually, they were going to catch him. They were going to find out that he was a monster.

He was terrified of what that would mean.

But he didn’t want to think about that here. Not while he was at school. He had enough to deal with here and thinking about how he had accidentally turned himself into a monster some of the time wasn’t something he needed right now.

He took a breath to center himself and then stood up fully so he could try again.

Just after he heard the satisfying click of his combination unlocking, he was shoved face-first into his locker.

“Oops, I tripped,” Dash mocked, only proving that he had done it on purpose.

Danny turned his head so he could both breathe and talk. He was thankful that the push hadn’t broken his nose, “You okay?” Danny asked with no hint of actually caring.

“Yeah, I had a dork to catch my fall.” Dash was cackling in amusement before he even finished the sentence and his fellow footballers were just as amused.

“Lovely.” Danny deadpanned as he tried not to think about how a guy twice his size was crushing the air out of his lungs and absolutely no one seemed to notice. “You mind getting off?”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Fen-total-waste-of-space? Can’t handle a little weight?”

“I think you’re more than a little weight, bricks for brains!”

Dash pulled back and spun Dany around fast enough for him to get a little dizzy, “What the hell did you call me you little jerk!?” Dash screamed as he lifted Danny up by his shirt and slammed him against his locker again.

“Did I say that out loud?” he honestly hadn’t meant to, but then again it felt kind of nice to be able to fight back. Even if it was just with words.

He meant to sound apologetic, or even honestly surprised by his slip-up. Turns out grinning was the wrong facial expression to have.

“You think this is funny? Well here’s a new joke for you,” Dash started as he pulled Danny off of his locker, opened it up, and shoved Danny inside.

When Danny saw Dash’s grip on the door he knew he had to pull his legs in or risk them getting crushed. He pulled them in as close to his body as he could just as Dash slammed the locker down shut.

“Good luck talking your way out of that one you freak.” Dash sneered before punching the locker once before he walked away with this friends.

They all just laughed.

None of them stayed behind to help.

He wanted out. Needed to get out.

Dash had no idea how right he was about how freakish Danny was.

The space in the locker grew darker. Too dark.

He glared at the darkened door before him, the otherworldly green light was all he had to illuminate the impossibly dark space.

The hallway was quiet so he figured it didn’t matter now. It was too late anyway.

His nightmare form had been unleashed; he might as well use it to free himself.

He burst from his locker with a primal scream. His claws hit the floor first as his tail slid out like a snake behind him. The door clattered to the floor beside him, his books and papers scattered out around him, but he didn’t care. He was too angry to care.

There was a gasp behind him.

He whipped around and saw his friends. When did they get there? How much had they seen?

He slowly stood up, or floated upward, to his full height. He was usually the shortest in their group, but he towered over them now.

His elongated body of shadows was almost tall enough to touch the ceiling. He could touch the ceiling if he just reached up for it. It wouldn’t take much effort at all.

That was way too tall. No person should be that tall.

But he wasn’t a person right now, was he?

“Where’s Danny?” Tucker asked in almost a whisper.

They didn’t recognize him? Was that a good thing?

He looked back to the locker, his neck snapping loudly as he had turned his head too fast. He huffed in annoyance, because of course he couldn’t do anything without being pure nightmare fuel.

He turned back to his friends, slowly this time as to not repeat the same mistake.

They still looked horrified.

Was he moving too slow now?

He wondered if maybe it was the height? He was clearly too tall. Nobody liked being towered over. But he didn’t know how to not be tall.

He shrank down on himself. Got low to the floor and hoped that they would understand that he wasn’t going to hurt them.

Maybe he should just leave?

He started to back up, he peeked behind himself to gauge where the janitor’s closet was. He knew there was one nearby.

Found it!

He skittered backward as fast as he could. Too fast.

He ended up crawling backward up the door and halfway up the ceiling.

He stopped, opened the door, and slipped inside using his tail to close the door behind himself.

Sure, shutting himself inside the closet wasn’t much better than his locker, but it was at least a little roomier. He didn’t bother going for the light even if it was within his reach.

The last time he turned on a light in this form, the lightbulbs exploded. He really didn’t want to clean up a bunch of glass again.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm back down. If he could calm down he would shift back.

At least that was his theory anyway. He still had no idea how this whole thing worked.

He felt his tail wrap around himself. It was long enough at it coiled around him more than once and the tip rested on his shoulder. He tried not to think about this form seemed to favor the tail instead of legs. Then again, in this instance, the prehensile tail made more sense than long spindly legs. It didn’t make it any less weird though.

He was so focused on himself that he didn’t notice that the door had opened.

Sam stood there, staring down at him. “Danny?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. To acknowledge that she was right? To deny it?

It didn’t matter. All that came out was indistinguishable static and moans.

He snapped his mouth shut, his hands clamping over it. He didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be like this.

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why didn’t he just die in the portal?

She pulled him into a hug and all his thoughts just stopped.

“It’s okay! You’re okay,” she hugged him tighter but it didn’t stop him from slipping his arms out from between them and hugging her back.

“It’s not okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cried his apologies into her shoulder.

She leaned back and held his face in her hands, “Why are you sorry Danny?”

He pulled away from her. He knew he had changed back, but he could still feel all that darkness just under his skin, it danced on the edges of his being, eager to come forth again. “Because I never wanted you to see me like that.” He pulled his hoodie sleeves up and over his fingers so the oversized fabric engulfed his hands completely, “I scared you.”

“Don’t be silly Danny,” Sam smiled as she reached out and touched his balled-up sleeve-covered hand, “you didn’t scare us.”

“Speak for yourself.” Tucker scoffed from his spot lingering on the edge of the doorway.

Sam snapped her attention back to Tucker, “Not helping!”

“At least he’s being honest,” Danny muttered.

She looked back at him with a slightly less annoyed glare, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He hadn’t meant for her to hear that, but given how close she was, he really should have expected it. He pulled his hand away from her and used both arms to hug his stomach, “Because I know I scared you both. I can tell.”

“How do you know?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’m afraid I’d scare you more if I told you.”

“Well that certainly wasn’t ominous,” Tucker quipped nervously as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but right where he was.

Danny didn’t blame him for wanting to run away. It hurt, but he understood.

“If you want to go, it’s okay. I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Whoa there,” Tucker dropped to his knees and shuffled in closer so he could also place a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “No one said anything about not being friends. Sure I’m scared, we all are. That includes you, Dude. I’m not going to leave you alone just because you can get spooky sometimes.”

“Get Spooky?” Danny deadpanned.

“Well, what do you call it?” Tucker shrugged as he best defense.

Danny looked down and pulled his knees closer to his chest, “I don’t really call it anything.” he wrapped his arms around his legs so he could pull them even closer, “I try not to think about it.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” Sam said as she placed her hand on his knee again.

Danny didn’t know where she got all that confidence from. She was still scared. He could tell even in this form.

“So, I’m probably going to hate myself for asking, but,” Tucker took a breath then sat down fully, one knee tapping against the floor while the other stayed perpendicular to his body. “How did you know Sam was scared?”

Danny looked from Tucker’s nervous curiosity to Sam’s steely resolve. He bit his lip but couldn’t think of a reason not to tell them. They’d seen him at his worst and they didn’t run away.

“I can,” gosh he really hoped that this wouldn’t be the thing to push them away, “ I can smell it?”

“What does it smell like?”

“Red.”

“Red what?” Tucker asked.

“The color.”

“The color?” he repeated sounding even more confused than when he had asked his initial question.

“Yeah.”

“You smell emotions in colors?” he asked to clarify.

Danny sat up and threw his hands out for emphasis, “Look my senses have been really weird since the accident. I think all that electricity scrambled my brains or something.”

His friends just shared a look so he continued.

“Ghost stuff feels like flavors to me now. Like the portal, it felt sour. That might just be all ectoplasm though, or at least the raw stuff anyway. Oh and sometimes,” he paused mostly because his brain was going so fast and he still hadn’t found all the words to explain what he had been going through in the last several weeks. Plus this was the first time he was saying any of this out loud. “Sometimes I have trouble holding or touching things. Like I’m not really there. And when that happens my body or just parts of it, feel spicy? But if spicy was cold instead of hot.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

Danny slumped back against the shelving unit behind him. He knew it was weird but he didn’t know how else to describe it.

“Actually I think I know.” sam said slowly as she nodded to herself.

“You do?” the boys both asked with slight variations of confusion. Tucker’s was more towards disbelief, while Danny was a little more hopeful.

“It’s like he’s trying to translate it, but there are no words for it. Not in English anyway.”

Before Danny could ask what she meant the bell rang.

“Oh gosh I exploded my locker all over the hall and we’re going to be late for class!” Danny scrambled out of the closet and passed his friends.

[blue-bird-kny]

Belated Birthday Special!🥳

Only I would be late to my own birthday special lol, BUT my birthday was yesterday and I planned to post this self-indulgent gift with some of my fav characters for both myself and you all so here it is! Please enjoy this little birthday gift (Even if your birthday is far away)!~Amanda

Warning: This one had a bit of everything; Slight NSFW, tons fluff, and a dash of Angst.

(2.2K+ words)

Muichiro:

Your eyes fluttered open, mind still groggy with sleep while the sun's rays peaked passed the horizon outside. Absentmindedly, your fingers crawled to the opposite side of the bed looking for the warmth of your boyfriend. “What the hell..?” the bed was empty on the other side, the sheets already cold. Your brows furrowed as your bleary eyes scanned the room, there was zero trace of your boyfriend. “Muichiro is never up before me…” you muttered before noticing a small piece of parchment paper torn on his bedside table.

‘I’ll be back later’

A dry laugh escaped your lips, “What else was I expecting?” you groaned  “Today will be just like last year” you pushed yourself out of bed dreading the rest of the day.

The day dragged on without a word from your boyfriend. Every once in a while you’d receive a merry “Happy Birthday” from your friends. You appreciated it, but every time you heard those two words your chest tightened a bit more. “He’s forgotten every year so get over it!” you reminded yourself. Three birthdays have passed since you started dating Muichiro and each year was the same. Every year you grew more hopeful, sure that that was going to be the year things would change, but to know avail.

“I’m home” you called as you kicked off your shoes. Off in another room, you could hear the sound of someone frantically moving objects. “Muichiro?” you warily called, inching closer to the noise while gripping the hilt of your blade. Your breath hitched and your eyes welled with tears, “Oh Muichrio”

Muichiro stood awkwardly with his long tresses tied back in a loose bun (a look you adored), clutching a bouquet of daffodils. “Here” he thrust the flowers into your trembling fingers. Suddenly, you wrapped him in a tight embrace. You spent some time tucked into each other, Muichiro rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I thought you forgot” you cried pulling away, you couldn’t help but play with the strands of hair that weren’t pulled back. He smiled guiltily, “I didn’t say anything since I wanted it to be a surprise”

Truthfully, Muichiro felt awful about always forgetting your special day. Once the seasons changed, he reminded himself everyday of your birthday, a constant countdown he never allowed himself to ignore or forget. He was scared; he didn’t want you to give  up on him, but it wasn’t fair that you always had to be the one waiting to see if he remembered something important.

“This is also for you” Muichiro looked away bashfully, handing over a gold box. Carefully, you opened the lid “It’s gorgeous” you marveled, delicately tracing the unique pattern of the sapphire stones. “I’m sorry if I ruined our day by ignoring you, I wanted to make sure I had everything to make things perfect” he faced the floor while he spoke. You brought his face towards your, hovering just by his lips. “Muichiro you could never ruin today, you only make things better” you passionately kissed his smooth lips, ingraining this moment to memory. 

Muichiro isn’t perfect, but there isn’t a single other person you’d want to spend the rest of your life with.

Rengoku:

You sprung out of bed before the sun even breathed its first breath of the day, beaming as you stretched the grogginess away. The snores of your spirited boyfriend rumbled beside you, his slumped form invading the space you once occupied. It took everything in your power to not laugh at Rengoku’s overgrown form sprawled out, his limbs bent in directions that could not possibly be comfortable.

You spent the early hours quietly finishing the house chores; Rengoku had been so busy lately that you’d feel awful waking him up even if it was your birthday. All you wanted was to spend the day alone with your beloved, making up for all the conversations, hugs, and kisses you two had missed with his busy schedule. Just as you finished washing last night's dishes, a pair of muscular arms coiled around your waist, his face buried into the crook of your neck. “Princess why are you up so early?” god his morning voice would be the death of you, “Figured I’d let you sleep a little” you whispered.

Rengoku hummed, the vibration of his voice shaking you to your core. His unruly bedhead tickled your skin as he trailed his nose along the length of your neck, his plush lips ghosting over your skin “Rengoku we haven't even had breakfast” your voice was unsteady, warmth already spreading throughout your body at his small ministrations. “I can think of something I wanna eat” he teased, nipping at your earlobe with just enough pressure to have you holding your breath.

Your body was flipped against the counter, Rengoku wasted no time spreading your legs to nuzzle his thick thigh between them. His eyes were wild, fully aware of the effect he was having on you, it only fueled his lust. “Princess it's your day, let me show you how much I love you” he ground your clothed mound against his thigh, just brushing that special spot inside you. You mewled lightly, your body tensing at the sensation. “Bed or couch?” you asked breathlessly. His chuckled deep, a devilish smirk matching the glint in his eyes as he reached for the hem of your shirt

“Why not both? Beside, I thought we could  start right here”

Inosuke: 

“Why is Y/n out with that tall freak again?” Inosuke grumbled for the third time, pouting childishly on the floor with his arms crossed. “It’s Y/n’s birthday and we are throwing a surprise party” Tanjiro reminded, carrying the cake he had learned to bake from his mother, “Don’t be rude to Uzui-san either, we had to beg him to take Y/n with him on his mission so that we could do all this”.

You’d been gone since yesterday morning and the idea that you’d spent the night near another man made Inosuke’s skin crawl. Clingy wasn’t exactly what you’d call Inosuke, but possessive? When that switch was flipped he became full of jealousy. “Maybe Y/n-chan spent the night wrapped in his huge arms, I’m sure she’d like that for her birthday” Zenistu taunted Inosuke as he put up decorations. “Shut it, Achoo!” Inosuke pelted a rock, hitting the poor boy square in the forehead. “That's not even close to my name” Zenitsu cried, rubbing the sore spot on his face that was sure to swell.

Truthfully Inosuke didn’t know how to handle your birthday; he’s never celebrated one of his own so he was super misinformed on the whole situation. Tanjiro had to explain it to him and still he didn’t know what gift to get you or how to act.

Night had already fallen when you returned home, you stood outside thanking the Hashira, still unaware of the party waiting inside, “Thank you Uzui-san for asking me to come with you, I learned a lot”. Uzui grinned while picking you up high off the ground in a bone crushing hug, “Don’t worry about it Y/n! Your a dear to have around, I’d have to ask you to come along again soon” “I’d be more than welcome to it”

Inosuke, who had refused to go inside with the others for your ‘protection’, jumped at the familiar sound of your voice-- he’d never say it aloud but he missed you. He froze when he spotted you being held by Uzui, fury bubbling up from his stomach. He marched over with his fist clenched, “Oi!” he shouted. You didn’t even notice Inosuke’s hostility as you detach yourself from the big man, jumping straight into Inosuke. Uzui held a knowing smirk, “Don’t worry little piggy, I return her safe and sound” Inosuke narrowed his eyes as he held you to his side. Uzui turned to leave waving his hand as a farewell, “Happy Birthday Y/n!” “Thanks?” you never mentioned it was your birthday.

“Come on Inosuke, let's go inside!” you pulled the stubborn boy along, throwing the door open only to be met with a rowdy group yelling “Surprise!”

The party was phenomenal, the room was filled with so much joy and laugher, something you all desperately needed. Your smile refused to fall from your cheeks, even as you lay in bed “Today was really great” you reminisced, talking to the back that was facing away from you. Inosuke couldn’t shake the image of you with Uzui, damn Zenitsu for opening his stupid mouth. Inosuke turned to face you finally, your eyes drooping from sleep already. Inosuke made a rash decision as he stared at your adorable face, gathering you in his bare arms. “Oh!” you yelped in surprise, Inosuke wasn’t really one to initiate cuddles but you weren’t complaining.

“You’re really comfortable” you breathed into his chest, his natural scent filling your senses. “My arms are a hell of a lot better than those giants” you paused, finally understanding what was going on. “Uzui is a great friend and mentor, but I don’t love anyone more than you. I never could” Inosuke clung onto every whisper of a word, holding you tighter as the seconds passed. You sat up and placed a small peck on the tip on his nose, scooching right back into his warm hold. “Good night Inosuke” you cooed, closing your eyes.

“Happy birthday Y/n”

Shinobu: (Ugh she needs more love)

Believe it or not, Shinobu was big on birthdays, especially yours. She remembers how she loved to celebrate with her sister and the other girls at the Estate, so she wanted the day to go as smoothly as possible. She planned a wonderful picnic in the garden and had even prepared the food for the special occasion.

“I’m ready!” you called gleefully, showing off your gorgeous new lavender sundress Shinobu had gifted you. “I knew purple was your color” Shinobu complimented, admiring the way the dress showed off your curves. “Let’s get going, I’d hate for the day to be a waste. I cleared my schedule just for you, you know” She teased, her hand caressing your flushed cheeks--Oh how she loved that look.

You walked hand in hand, Shinobu carrying the basket of goods while you excitedly rambled on about whatever came to mind. You two barely made it past the Estate gates when a group of medics holding stretchers of wounded soldiers came rushing toward you. Your smile faded as Shinobu’s hand left yours, already giving order to the medics, following them inside. “Shinobu?” you called quietly, “They need my help but I promise this won't be long” she smiled apologetically.

It couldn��t be helped; they needed her more than your silly lunch date did, but who had you forsaken that it had to happen on your birthday of all days. Shoulders slouched, you carried the abandoned basket off the ground, “I’ll just wait in her office, she promised” you wishfully thought.

You bitterly stabbed the fruit in your bowl, the fruit that was meant for your date, and shoved into your mouth. The sun was beginning to set and you still hadn't seen your girlfriend, you’d passed the time by eating the snacks one by one; alone. The commotion of working medics hasn't ceased for hours and slowly you’d lost complete hope of a more exciting day. Your back was beginning to ach from the stiff chair, yet you still waited patiently. Shinobu’s office was filled with piles of paper and books, so there was nothing left to do but stare out the window and eat.

The sound of the door sliding open pulled you from your thoughts, “Awww you didn’t leave me any food?” Shinobu greeted jokingly, sensing your frustration a mile away. You stabbed another piece of fruit, aggressively eating away at the sweet food. “I know you're upset, but I really didn’t mean for this to happen” she defended, feeling miserable about the whole ordeal. You softened, it really wasn’t Shinobu’s fault. “Sorry” you mumbled, staring at the roof. You didn’t bother looking down at the sound of her feet shuffling towards you.

You weren’t expecting to feel Shinobu’s full weight on your lap as she straddled your hips, her hand grasping your chin, pulling you down to face her. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, Beautiful,” she soothed, one hand combing through you hair while the other played with your bottom lip, “Please let me make it up to you” her sultry voice rung through your ears, her pink lips making their way across your jawline and down to that spot Shinobu lives to exploit. “Mmmmm” you whined loudly as she started sucking and lapping, working the tender skin till a reddish bruise formed.

The hand embedded in your hair pulled slightly, making sure to run her long nails against your scalp at each tug, eliciting another loud moan from your parted lips. “Shhhh Beautiful, if you're too loud I’ll make you wait till we get to the room later. I can only be so giving”. You knew better than that-then to believe that this would end once you two walked out of those office doors. As if reading your thoughts, Shinobu slid herself down your thighs and onto the floor, never ceasing to make eye contact, “I’ll work you for all you’ve got while we’re here” you bit your lip impatiently as you watched her pull your legs apart by your knees.

Shinobu definitely kept this promise, and gifted you with even more once you two made it the room.

Masterlist

Shinobu may have been a tad OOC but idc, she deserves all the love she wants and I’m willing to give it to her. I hope you all enjoyed it, thank you and stay safe~Amanda

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!��such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

 ********

 Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

[gretchensinister]

So I watched Color Out of Space yesterday because I thought it would be bad and batshit and something that would serve as good knitting background.

Only it wasn’t bad.

(Still batshit and still good knitting background though.)

I don’t really know where to start talking about this but since I’m doing this for free, I’m going to talk about eggs benedict first. I love eggs benedict. If you don’t know what it is, the standard is an English muffin, with Canadian bacon on top of it, with a poached egg on top of that, and the whole thing topped with hollandaise sauce.

I can poach an egg sort of successfully most of the time. But my standard grocery shopping doesn’t include English muffins or Canadian bacon, and making hollandaise is a whole thing with raw egg yolks and either getting your blender dirty or whisking until your arm falls off and like…if I have enough time to make a breakfast of more than one step for myself (or if I feel like having breakfast for dinner) I’m also probably trying to chill that day. Also I’m already poaching a couple of eggs and that’s where the anxiety has to go.

So when I want eggs benedict at home, it’s going to be made with: whatever kind of bread thing I have, topped with whatever kind of meat I have in the fridge (I have used a sliced-up hot dog for this), topped with a poached egg, topped with not hollandaise, but something that will work for the purpose, made by stirring up mayo with lemon juice and a dash of cayenne pepper. I’ve never been disappointed with my results, maybe because I’m a gremlin? I wouldn’t serve any of this business to a chef, but I don’t make this to serve to a chef, I make this to eat it.

Maybe that will help you understand what I’m feeling about Color Out of Space. Some spoilers below.

In the first half-hour or so of the movie, I was flip-flopping about whether the movie was “self-aware” or not. Like, is the weirdness unintentional? Should I wince with secondhand embarrassment at the filmmakers?

I think the answer is firmly NO to these two questions. In fact, I think that the filmmakers were WILDLY SUCCESSFUL in what they intended to do.

There were several different things that convinced me that they were doing whatever they were doing on purpose, including all their deviations from the H.P. Lovecraft story the movie is based on.

1. Right at the beginning, there’s a bit of flirting between the hydrologist and the daughter of the family that lives on the farm where the meteorite will soon land. Yeah it’s heterosexual nonsense, BUT. The hydrologist is Black and the daughter is white. H.P. Lovecraft’s head is suitably exploded, now we can do whatever we want.

2. The dinner scene with the family where there’s a short conversation about how the daughter is always wanting fast food. Now, in context this is just to establish that she’s missing living in the city vs. in the middle of nowhere. But importantly, she’s the first character we see in the movie and so is kind of our gateway into this situation. And she doesn’t want the home-cooked meal, she wants the fast food, even after her mother points out the questionable ingredients. “I know,” she says. “But it tastes like heaven.” Sometimes you want fast food even though you know very well that it’s not gourmet. Not every horror movie has to be a perfectly balanced tour-de-force of suspense, mystery, and social commentary. You can relax. Come into the movie.

3. The first creepy phone call. The hydrologist is at his survey camp (? IDK why he was outdoors at night in this scene actually, mumble mumble fieldwork?) and he gets a garbled, static-filled phone call on what is obviously a modern smartphone. But when he disconnects, there is the clear sound of a DIAL TONE. To me, this is too bizarre to be an accident, especially because there are a number of other phone calls and disconnections in the movie, and none of them end with a dial tone. I think the filmmakers do know what it’s like to use a phone. (Though there is a scene where the daughter is trying to call 911 and tells her father in a panic that she can’t get a dial tone. IDK what that’s about. A genuine error? A moment that might as well have a label that says “nitpickers take pot shots here”?) Back to the hydrologist. At this moment, as a viewer, I’m still thrown off by the dial tone. It’s nonsense, and that makes it a “bad movie” marker, I guess, but someone had to decide to put the sound in. It couldn’t have happened carelessly. And then the hydrologist has to block a glare of light. He uses the book he’s been reading, which is “The Willows” by Algernon Blackwood—which was one of Lovecraft’s favorite supernatural stories. It’s very clear to the audience—not a lingering shot, but still something that’s not supposed to be an Easter egg.

And this is where I say, okay. The filmmakers know their source material. They know their audience. No one in the movie is winking at the camera, and the movie is yes, kind of funky, but it’s not made in a careless way or in a way that you feel that the filmmakers are inviting laughter. It’s horror—and believe me, they’ve got some practical effects in this one are truly ghastly—but it’s horror that exists very clearly in its genre and feels playful because of that.

Three things that show that playfulness to me: the name of the hippie squatter’s cat. The cat is named G-spot, which, in the movie itself is explained as an immature joke “a pussy named—” but even as I was groaning and thinking “that’s a terrible name for a cat” the part of my brain that knows more about Lovecraft than I care to is like, “but not the WORST name for a cat!” and I don’t know if the filmmakers expected anyone to be like “well at least the cat isn’t named ———” but that was part of my reaction.

The casting of Nicholas Cage. Nicholas Cage is/was kind of a meme on his own, and in this movie he plays the dad of the family that lives in the house the meteor lands by. And at a certain point in the movie, his accent goes a little weird and he starts acting more like the stereotypical asshole horror movie dad. I dismissed this as just a disappointment at first, like, this is bad acting and bad acting choices and bad writing happening to move the plot. But then he switches back to his previous established character, and after it happened again I realized that this was happening because of the alien color messing with his mind! Even after accepting that the movie was being purposeful, I was still caught up in the idea of Cage as a bad actor and the movie as a bad movie that I was fooled into missing the first signs of alien mind control! That’s meta.

The kid going full creepy child like, immediately after the meteor hit. Obsessive drawing, staring off into space, invisible friends, the works. But it’s not even a main thing. We never even get a full good look at what he’s drawing. There’s no scene where either parent stops and dramatically stares at it and we wonder “oooooh is it really real?” It’s definitely real and it’s causing worse problems by the minute. The kid has gone full creepy child, but there is OTHER SHIT that is ALSO URGENT. It amused me to have this trope be present but not central.

What else do I want to say? Overall this movie had very little downtime. It didn’t waste a bunch of time with people denying that anything weird was going on, or trying to make the viewer wonder if all this was real. It’s real and it’s fucking up your alpacas! The movie assumes that viewers know “The Colour Out of Space” and doesn’t tease us with any “what-is-happening-if-anything” tension. Of course it’s happening. Show us what we came to see.

I think what made it successful for me were the same kinds of things that make good fanfiction successful, which only makes sense as it is essentially a “The Color Out of Space” modern AU. The willingness to play with tropes, the assumption of viewer familiarity with the source, etc.

The effects were used judiciously, and if some of it just seemed like a light filter or two I have to say I don’t really care.

And I think that’s all for now. Oh, except that I want to mention, only the Black guy lived. The hydrologist was the one to narrate the opening and the closing, the only voice that spoke any words from the original short story. Whaddaya know.

[that-bookworm-guy]

2-week Hiatus Post

I've written, rewritten and deleted this post more times than I can count.

If this has posted it means that I'm still not back.

The only things I've come online for are to top up my queue and to write and queue book review posts. On my Twitter the only things that should be posting are the automatic posts from Netgalley as I review books. My Instagram has been silent.

I've just written my post about my 1 week hiatus, which as I stated in the post, is a safety net I like. It makes me feel like I'm not abandoning everything and hopefully it gives extra notice to those who may not have sewn my original break post. So although these posts are a week apart for you, it's been literally minutes for me.

I don't think I've ever written a 2 week post. I've had breaks that have been longer than 2 weeks, but I've always had a rough idea of when I'll be back. I don't know this time. I really don't. I didn't tell anyone directly that I was going on a break. Because I didn't know how to explain things. I just kinda posted the posts and went silent.

So this post is going to be long.

Tw: Hate (and assault??)

If you've been following me for over a month, you may remember I took a break from social media because of the vast amount of hate I was getting on twitter and here. I shouldn't have come back from that so soon, because honestly, the hate on the internet hasn't stopped. It's all over my Twitter feed, hate directed at trans people and even if I block certain words, screenshots keep appearing of things people have said.

Before my last break, I woke up one day to my Twitter inbox full of vile hate. Towards trans people in general and towards me. I mean vile, horrible messages with vivid descriptions of things. In my half asleep crying state I didn't block or screenshot any of them. I just deleted them. I wanted them gone. It took me hours because every time I thought I got to the end, I refreshed and there were more. I was a mess.

I was getting hate on here too. I had to step back.

I came back a week or two later feeling a bit better. But fully aware that i was pushing myself to regain some kind of normality.

Then everything kicked off again, but this time just on my Twitter feed. If you've been on twitter you may know what I'm on about. I've unfollowed people, blocked others but screen shots kept appearing on my dash and people were replying to hate messages which put them on my feed.

Then I got a hate message on here and something in my snapped. I cried and cried and wrote an impulsive rant on twitter about I'm going on another break.

I haven't reread the thread but I wrote that I'll delete it when I got back, so it's still there. I also wrote about the fact I've been a terrible friend to people because I've been isolating myself. It's something I do when I know I'm getting bad again. In a way, I want no one to notice what's happening. In another, I'm afraid that if they see me in this state, I'll be rejected. So I isolate. 

So I went on a break.

In March I started running to help with my mental health. In May I had to stop due to injury and something else, which I won't discuss. But it meant going back to running was going to be hard for me.

But I decided i needed to go for a walk at least because I hadn't left the house since early May.

I had been out for half an hour when I noticed 3 men behind me. They had been behind me for a few minutes but I thought nothing of it because I was walking down the back streets (I live in a village/ small town. The back streets are just road with houses either side but it's not a proper road. It's mostly used by walkers). I know these streets very well.

But then the men started to comment on what I was wearing (gym clothing, that are men’s wear, which I know isn't important but I thought of wearing something else but didn’t) and commenting on my body. Then they started to question if I was a boy or girl. Things got nasty quickly. I didn't reply, didn't turn around and didn't run. I was taught to do these things. I was playing pokemon go and the men had commented on this so I was scared to try and take their photo or call someone.

Because I didn't answer and i can only assume they saw my beard and nail varnish or maybe my body shape, they started to yell transaphobic things at me as well as sexual comments on my body, guessing what I had under my clothing. I keep telling myself that there is no way they could have known that I was trans, that they were just hoping to get a reaction, and when they didn't, they tried harder.

They threw rocks at me. I have cuts and bruises over my back, legs, arms and something hit me in the back of the head. But I didn't run because I couldn't risk them chasing me. So instead I continued walking like nothing was happening. I tried to show no fear as I could feel a panic attack building. But I didn't know how they would react if I reacted.

They yelled things calling me scum, an abomination, that I should kill myself or they could do that for me. They told me no one would miss me. Tr*nny waste of space. They followed me for a while until I turned onto a main road. Then one of them said that I wasn't worth it and they turned back on themselves.

Mum says there is no way they could have known I was trans, that I look masculine.But I don't think my body does. I had my hood up and was dressed all in black. But my clothing was actually my size instead of being 3 sizes too big. I don't know. I keep thinking what I did wrong. Why I didn't blend in.... Why I didn't pass as a cis male. What I did to be a target when I didn't say a single word to them.

 My dad keeps telling me I was assaulted and that it's a hate crime. I'm not sure what it was....

But mixed with the online hate and whatever it was with the 3 men, I want to do nothing but lay in bed, read and cry, as pathetic as that sounds. But right now, everything is a little bit too much.

I know I need to do something other than hide. But right now that’s all I want to do. I have no energy to be bright and bold and to be proud of who I am.

I know I have to deal with this sooner or later. But right now I pick later.

I don't know when I'll feel okay talking to people, even those close to me. I love and adore you, you all know who you are, but I'm sorry, I can't hold a conversation right now.

Honestly, I want to pretend I don't exist right now. That I'm not real. Which is why I'm reading a lot, because at least then I'm not me.

I love this blog. I love the people I’ve met. I work hard to create content and i genuinely adore what I do here, even if no one else does. Which is why I want to explain why I need to step back right now. Because I don't know, something in my head is telling me that if I didn't write a reason, then I'm abandoning this blog, which I know is stupid. A few weeks or months away isn't going to mean my blog disappears. But this blog and the people on here means a lot to me.

I'm keeping my queue going and I've been writing book reviews to post so it won't even feel like I've gone. I'm sorry I'm not replying to messages or asks, but right now, I can't. I will as soon as I come back properly (not just to update queue). I really hope you all understand.

I'll be back at some point. Maybe a few days after this has posted, or a few weeks, but I just don't know how long. I'm sorry.

I'll be okay, I just need to work through this and some other stuff so I'm not constantly having a breakdown.

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 9

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 1291

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible until I feel like I have built up enough thrill to leave my readers curious and desperately wanting more 😉 You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

**

I walk into the apartment, darkness engulfing me.

Huh? Is he still asleep? I wonder as I search for the switches in the dark. When the room floods with light, I stare at an empty couch and blankets thrown over my coffee table. I make my way to the bedroom and it was just the way I left it; clean and empty.

Where is he? I think as I now pick up my pace and dash between the few rooms in the apartment. The kitchen and bathroom were also empty. I almost tripped over my own feet as I ran to the door. I opened it and was about to bolt through the streets to-

Thud.

I hit a hard chest just as I take a step out the door. I look up to find big, scared eyes looking down at me. Dark hair falls over the eyes and I could see a mole on the tip of the straight nose.

It’s him!

I gasp in relief and almost hug him. He looks at me confused. I drag him inside, closing the door behind us.

“I came to an empty apartment. I worried you ran away!” I say looking at him. We were only a few feet away from each other. His already big eyes, widened some more. He notices my eyes drop to his hands. He was hugging something to his chest. He opens his mouth and closes it shut after a few seconds.

I close the space between us. “Do you have money?” I ask. He looks at me like I caught him doing something wrong. He shakes his head no.

“Then how did you buy whatever you bought?” I realize immediately how rude I sound. It was none of my business what he wants to do. I am simply tending to him and once he is all fixed up, he can go. He isn’t obliged to stay with me and tell me what he’s up to.

He tightens his grip on the bag. Realizing I’m making him uncomfortable, I change the subject. “I’m going to prepare us dinner” I say. “You can have a wash while I’m at it” I gesture to the shirt I let him borrow yesterday which he was still wearing.

I turn and walk towards my bedroom. As I move items in my cupboard looking for something he could wear, my thoughts are clouded with suspicion. If he had money on him, why didn’t he buy himself food the other day? Why is he walking around without finding a place to stay? There are ample houses and apartments in this area he could stay at for a few weeks till he finds some place more stable. Forget accommodation and food, he doesn’t even have proper clothes on him! I’m sure he could buy himself a shirt or two...

I find a long, pale blue shirt and another pair of track bottoms. I walk into the living room where he still stands exactly as I left him. He is staring at the floor and mumbling something. I walk close to him and hold the clothes up to his face.

“Here” I say.

He jumps a few feet back in startled surprise. He must not have heard or seen me come in.

Strange.

The apartment was so small, with no hallways between rooms and the door of one room opening to the other. He must’ve been having loud conversation inside his head to have not heard me walk in.

He takes the clothes from my hand and silently walk past me to the bathroom. He carries the bag in his hands inside. Maybe they are toiletries he needs, I think to myself. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to tell me what they were. I giggle at the thought of him being shy. I make my way to the kitchen and begin cooking.

**

I was planning on getting back before she returned. I assumed she left to work because she worked through the night the other day too. I didn’t have money on my hands, but I wanted to buy this desperately. It was the least I could do for Daffodil.

The moment I saw it on her table this evening, I knew I had to get it as a gift of gratitude for taking me in and tending to me. My heart warms at the mere idea of her preparing soup for me and allowing me to sleep on her couch. I stare at the object in my hand and sigh. If only I could have worked more, I would’ve been able to buy something more. I hope she likes it. Maybe she won’t. I almost settle with throwing it away. The last time I got a gift for a friend, he played me. He invited me to his party without giving me his address and made me walk in circles. I spent the very little money I had on me calling him from payphones until he finally told me his correct address. I went over and gave him the gift card I got him. He looked at it funnily and then placed it on a table filled with neatly wrapped, big presents. That’s when I realized, he didn’t invite me out of care. He did it to mock me and remind me where I stand. Compared to rich and popular kids like him, I was nothing but an eye sore. A waste of someone’s precious time. I could do nothing for them in return for their friendship. I left the party immediately and cried all the way back home.

I stare at the object in my hand and almost cry thinking about the possibility of her laughing at me. But I got something useful for her! She won’t reject something useful... right?

This evening when I woke up, she was gone. Panic took over me thinking I was all alone. The few hours we spent together got me relying on the warmth she radiated. I at least needed to say good bye before we separated. I walked around the dark house searching for a switch. I knocked on something hard and several heavy items fell to the floor. Thankfully I didn’t hear any glass breaking. I found the switch and turned on the lights.

I had bumped into her study table, dropping books onto the floor. As I picked them up, I noticed an old book. Its cover was fading, almost torn. It didn’t seem like a diary so I opened it. My eyes widened as I read the few lines she’s written on each page. Poems.

She has written poems. I read at least a dozen before I started tearing up. Her poems were all so sad. They spoke of losses and heart ache, of the poor and silenced. One particular poem, Under the Clouds, read “The clouds changed form the more she stared at them. People too, were sadly so much like clouds”

I remembered my big brother always warning me about people who might use me for my innocence and kindness if I trust them too much. That’s why I never let anyone in. Anyone but Jimin.

Jimin-ah.

I sobbed as a strong feeling of missing and denial washed over me. Daffodil showed me kindness and I’m sure Jimin-ah would want me to loudly express my gratitude. That’s when I knew I had to get her a fancy note book with a hard cover for protection to write all her poems in. Her poems would be safe inside the book I get her.

I ran out of the house without even bothering to fold my blankets or place my pillows neatly. I had to get it for her. For Daffodil.

[myforeverforlife]

Chapter 6: Baëkhyun

Sehûn smiled triumphantly as he took aim, arm pulling back when a sudden flash of bright light engulfed the room. You covered your eyes instinctively, the blinding radiance of light visible even behind your eyelids.

And as soon as it came, the light was gone.

Lowering your arms, you hoped that it was another hidden bit of magic that your keys had. All of the blood drained from your face once you realized who it was.

“Baekhyun.”

Masterlist

Obsession Masterlist

Trigger warning: Mentions of blood

Baekhyun’s lips formed an amused smile, even as his head tilted slightly to the side. “Baëkhyun,” he corrected, voice low and smooth as velvet. “Although your pronunciation is almost correct.”

Sehûn was gone, and you were no longer in the room filled with windows. This room was the complete opposite ⁠— no windows in sight, the walls obsidian black. The only door stood at the other side of the room, right behind Baëkhyun. You peered down at your necklace for reassurance, eyes widening when you saw what you stood on. Beneath your feet, the flooring was made of... ice?

Noticing what you were staring at, Baëkhyun followed your gaze with a proud grin. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s made of my light. Regular glass tiles, add a little magic light and you get a floor that brightens up the room. But,” Baëkhyun’s voice dropped. “I didn’t bring you here to discuss interior design.”

You gulped, Baëkhyun’s light blue eyes hardening. He wore a thin chain on his face, draped over his nose while the ends disappeared behind his ears. In his hand were two swords, the light from the floor morphing the dull-colored metal and highlighting the sharp blades.

“You know, it’s sort of funny how long you’ve lasted. Chanyeøl was furious when he heard that Suhø wanted to keep you as one of our own. But I have to agree with Suhø, I think he’s right. Our dear leader usually is.”

Baëkhyun switched one of the swords to his other hand, flipping it in the air and catching it easily, in no danger at all of accidentally catching it on the blade. “None of the others from your realm have lasted nearly as long, and they definitely weren’t nearly as interesting as you.” A haunting smile appeared on his face. “And oh, how I’ve missed playing games.”

Oh no. You didn’t miss how Baëkhyun’s hands tightened their grip around the sword handles.

“I’ll make a deal with you, because I like you so much. If you can beat me in a game of my choosing, I will let you walk free, even escort you to the door. But if you lose,” Baëkhyun’s smile disappeared. “Then you must give up ownership of the keys to me, and you’ll basically be at our mercy. My brothers and I, that is.”

Even as you stood practically trembling jn your boots, it was hard to keep your curiosity at bay. “Suhø mentioned that too,” you spoke up. “Giving up ownership of my keys? You mean handing them over?” You were confused ⁠— even if they had the keys, they wouldn’t be able to use them. Hadn’t they already learned?

“No,” Baëkhyun said, a look of mock pity on his face. “Your keys have magic, we have magic. You, lost Gatekeeper, have some of your own. Because the keys are tied to you, they use some of your unique magic. They’re attached to you,” he clarified.

“If you wished, you could sever the magic connection between you and your dear keys. The same would happen if we were to kill you. That’s also part of the reason why Chanyeøl is so pissed that Suhø stepped in. Arguably, we’d have the keys already if he had just let you burn, but Suhø has a thing about not wasting resources.” Baëkhyun rolled his eyes with a wry smile.

Your heart rate quickened as you realized what Baëkhyun was saying. Either way, they would gain control of your keys ⁠— whether you were dead or alive. The choice was up to you.

“So,” Baëkhyun spoke up, grabbing your attention. “What’s your choice? I promise to go easy on you.” He let out a small laugh, both of you knowing that the opposite was true.

It all boiled down to how you wanted to lose ⁠— stay alive but betray your home, or die and practically hand your enemies the key to their victory. But if you did play against Baëkhyun, and you actually won, you’d be free. There was no guarantee that he would honor his promise if you won, but still... You couldn’t possibly ignore a chance like that, no matter how slim it was.

“Okay,” you said aloud. “What’s the game?”

Baëkhyun’s grin turned mischievous, his face so much like your own Baekhyun that it hurt your heart a little to even look at him. “Swordfighting,” he announced. “First one to get close to the neck wins. And to even the playing field,” Baëkhyun removed the chain from his face, throwing it to the side. “There. No magical powers of mine for you to worry about,” he crooned in a sugar-sweet voice.

Interesting. You hadn’t even known that their magic relied on a physical object, much like your own.

He dropped one sword to the floor, kicking it over to you. With trembling hands, you picked it up, taken aback by how heavy it was. You had never trained with a sword ⁠— the weapons were considered ancient in your universe.

Baëkhyun waited until you were ready, a bloodthirsty look in his eye. Once you had the sword ready in both hands, he dashed forward, aiming for your chest.

You moved to the side, avoiding the attack and backing up before he could strike again. Baëkhyun was swift, easily holding the sword like it weighed nothing.

Clearly, he was an expert.

You noticed how he tried to keep you away from the door, shepherding you further back into the room with a quick swipe of his sword whenever it seemed like you were getting too close to his side of the room. Unluckily for you, this meant that he was pushing you closer and closer to the wall behind you.

At this point, you were evading his attacks rather than taking the offensive. Your keys swung wildly as you ducked and moved out of the way, falling back against your chest.

The keys. They couldn’t touch them, and even if they did, the keys were like poison to them.

Your mind flashed back to Kāi, how he had reacted as soon as the keys made contact with his skin.

In a lapse of focus, Baëkhyun’s sword managed to swipe against your arm, cutting through sleeve and skin as you hissed in pain.

“Pay attention. It’s no fun when my opponent is spacing out,” he taunted.

Now impaired and struggling even more with your sword, Baëkhyun was getting closer and closer to winning. He rushed forward, pushing you into a corner as the tip of his blade pressed against your stomach.

He lowered his sword as he leaned in, barely out of breath as he smirked down at you. “You made this too easy for me. I was hoping you had more fight in you.” Baëkhyun’s face hovered over yours as he raised his sword, just about to press it to your throat.

This was your only chance.

You dropped your sword onto the floor, ignoring how it clattered loudly as you reached for your keys, wielding them firmly in one hand. Wasting no time, you reached up and slashed Baëkhyun across the face, watching as foul, dark blood immediately spilled from the cut. 

Baëkhyun backed away, howling in agony and unbridled rage as he brought his hands to his face. The cut had gone straight across, marring his perfect features. Some of his blood had splattered onto your face and shirt, but you had other things to worry about.

There was no time to lose.

You sprinted past, dodging away when he reached out to grab onto you. The keys began to heat up, much like they did whenever you approached the doors in the Realm of Gateways.

Was the exit close by?

Your hand fumbled with the doorknob, sweat and nerves making it difficult to turn it easily. It was then that you realized that you were locked in, the door refusing to open up no matter how hard you jiggled the doorknob.

You were crying, on the verge of hyperventilating. It was too much, too much for any person to go through. How could this happen to you?

A shadow appeared from behind, growing larger and larger as the figure approached. You only realized until it was too late, spinning around to see Baëkhyun hit you on the side of the head with the blunt of his sword.

You fell to the floor, body lifeless as you blacked out for what felt like the millionth time.

“Fuck, not again,” you managed to think to yourself before your eyelids closed.

Baëkhyun stood over you, chest heaving up and down. He was absolutely filthy, face and shirt covered in the grotesque black blood, but he didn’t even notice.

“Did you see that, Chën?” he asked, looking up and towards a corner of the room. A tiny camera was set up there, red light blinking back at Baëkhyun.

“You’re in for a treat.”

A/N: I had this posted already but when I went on tumblr mobile to fix the tags cause they weren’t showing up, all the text got erased??? so I apologize in advance if there’s any typos, this is almost exactly from what I copied from where I emailed my first draft to myself, and I was like frantically editing it right now so I can just post this and go grocery shopping LOL

Tag list: @thalasoophilia​, @skjdln​, @trishmarieco​, @jongin-be-my-jagi​, @violentcosmicsymphony

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Ch2 Pt10

Warnings: Guns (that literally are useless), Bombs (that are less useless), Mentions of stalkers, New discoverings, Plot twists, Gavin fluff, Ike fluff, Fluff fluff fluffitty fluff and a pinch of fluff... also a dash of angst but that’s not till the end ;D Oh, and don’t forget the big hEAPING serving of cliffhangers :DD

(Chapter two’s prologue, parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine here :))

((Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D))

Chapter two:

Part ten:

The warehouse was extremely run down. The walls were crawling with vines and cracking in places and the windows were barred and broken. The entire building creaked in against the steady wind as the light of the day steadily fell and was replaced by the night. I leaned against the side of Bart’s car, staring at the building, taking in the breeze, and letting Gavin finish his phone call in the car. As I stood there, I thought over the case.

 Hickman got a letter at his door to go to “Hills, Warehouse, Wall.” After getting the address wrong and going to The Wall by mistake, Hickman spotted a warehouse not too far from the pub. He met the person who sent the letter there, and was promised bail money if he were to out me as an Evolver. But who sent that letter? What did the letter mean by “Wall?” And why, of all Evolvers, did the hitman want to out me?

The car door opened and Gavin stepped out of it with his phone still in his hand. He was looking down at it seriously. “I told the chief about the situation.” Gavin said as he approached me, “The warehouse is abandoned so we don’t need a warrant, but he advised that we wait for backup.”

“Noted.” I nodded and moved from the car. 

“Why am I not surprised that you’re just going to risk it?” Gavin sighed and moved to follow me.

“You don’t have to come, Mr. Goodie Goodie.” I teased, turning to face him, “You can wait for backup.”

“We don’t have any weapons. How do you expect us to fare there?”

I stood a moment in thought. He was right, with Gavin in the condition he was in and no real idea of what we might be facing, charging in without backup wouldn’t be reasonable. Let alone without a weapon. It’s a good thing I had thought about that before. I walked to the back of the car and opened a trunk. I pulled a piece of loose paneling from the floor to reveal a secret compartment. Inside sat a gun.

“You have a gun inside of your dad’s car?” Gavin scoffed as I pulled the gun out from it’s hiding place.

“Did you forget that I used to be a bounty hunter, Birdcop?” I said as I checked the gun to see if it was still loaded, “I have a gun almost everywhere! I thought a cop would be just as careful. Especially when under cover.” I gave Gavin a judgmental glare.

“And where did you think I’d hide it? In my pocket?” Gavin gestured to his tank top and jeans. As he did so he pulled at an injury. He swung his hand to grip his side and grunted. I reached out a hand to steady him but he caught it swiftly. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” He reassured, straightening his posture, “Just, got a little carried away.” I arched an eyebrow, worry obviously written on my face. Gavin knitted his eyebrows and opened his mouth but before he could say anything. I shoved the gun into his hands and walked around him.

“Hey, what about you?” Gavin asked, turning to catch up with me.

“I don’t need it.” I turned to him as he approached my side, “Not when I have these guns.” I flexed. Gavin gave me a look. “Don’t give me that!” I shoved Gavin playfully, “I’m not the one injured here!”

“Whatever.” Gavin smirked, “Let’s just see how your ‘guns’ can get the doors open.”

“What do you-” I stopped at the front for the building. The doors were padlocked and boarded up. I huffed in annoyance, “How long did you know?”

“The chief told me.” Gavin smirked. His voice sounded as if he was holding back a laugh. Though his smile made my cheeks burn, my face was as steely as ever. He kept his grin and gestured to the door. “Well? How is the great Cicatrix going to take care of this-”

I kicked the door down.

The boards became splinters and the chain snapped in multiple places as the kick I threw tore the doors off their hinges. The doors clanked loudly as they hit the ground and the chains and wood soon followed it. The sound radiated through the empty building. I clicked my tongue and looked at Gavin.

“...situation.” Gavin finished, astounded at my action.

“That looks pretty taken care of to me.” I chimed. Gavin snapped out of his trance and glared at me.

“Could you be any more careless?!” He whisper shouted, “What if the perpetrator heard you?!”

“What is he going to do? Jump out the window?” I teased, stepping over some debris, “Come on, we should start looking.”

“Idiot, the doors were locked tight. They probably had a different way in.” Gavin hit the back of my head as he followed me into the warehouse, “The loud noise of the door hitting the floor probably sent them running.”

“Hey, you challenged me!” I protested rubbing the back of my head slightly, “Besides, if they really left in a hurry then they’d leave more evidence behind for us to catch them again. Also, hey, I give you ‘Bird Cop’ and you give me ‘Idiot?!’ Seriously, how long did it take you to think about that?! Two seconds?!”

“Keep it down.” Gavin lifted the gun and prepared it in front of him as we walked, “Did you forget why we came here? We came to stop a potential Evol threat. Some quiet and focus would go a long way.” He was right. I was acting pretty childish since he and I became partners again. It was probably because I had energy to burn after that fight. I must be releasing energy through quips and comebacks. That door also seemed to be nothing compared to the amount of force I have had to use on previous doors. I should be channeling that energy into finding the perp. No funny bus-

“Besides, I wasn’t even trying.” Gavin broke the moment of silence, “Give me an hour to give you a good nickname.” A small smile crept onto my face.

“You’re just trying to hide the fact that it took you all night to come up with ‘idiot.’” I pursed my lips slightly, stopping the smile from spreading.

We came up to a fork in the hallway. In front of us was a giant door made of metal that seemed to lead to the main storage room of the warehouse. On the other side of the door were two hallways, leading to a dead end on the left and the rest of the building on the right. I studied the door in front of us. Though I trusted my Evol to get through the door, I didn’t want to waste my energy trying to bust it down. Besides, it would be much easier to check when backup arrived. The more people the better with a space that big. With that, that only left us with one option. I scanned each hallway quickly and made a decision.

“You take right, I’ll take left.” Gavin and I said at the same time. We stared blankly at each other. I raised my eyebrow. 

“Wait, why do you want left?” I asked.

“There are less doors down left.” Gavin responded, “I could finish sweeping and then help you look.”

“What makes you the superior room-checker?”

“I’m a cop. This isn’t the first time I’ve done a search and clear of a building.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

Gavin raised an eyebrow.

“...fine. You take left.” I caved, slumping my shoulders slightly, “But we’ll see who ends up helping who here.”

“Just remember to tell me when a room is empty.” Gavin rolled his eyes but held a slight smile, “So I know you’re ok.”

“Whatever.” I grumbled, heading down the right hallway. Gavin turned down the left hallway and held his gun at the ready. I breathed deeply as I approached the first door. The door was unlocked. I braced myself and thrust the door open. I looked in the room. Empty. Completely empty. Not even a desk or a chair. “Clear.” I called grumpily as I left the room. It was the first door and I was already bored out of my mind.

The room search was going as well as you’d expect in an abandoned warehouse. There was the occasional room with rotting desks and chairs or the random piece of graffiti that strung along the walls. Other than that the rooms were devoid of people or evidence or anything suspicious. Gavin and I cleared each room with the hope of anything pertaining to our case quickly being diminished. 

I cleared yet another empty room and sighed. This was getting us nowhere. What were we expecting to find? A masked man in front of a wall with pictures of Evolvers with Xs on their eyes? Whoever dares to target Evolvers would be smarter than that. 

I huffed and tapped my chin. The words Hickman said echoed in my mind. “Hills, Warehouse, Wall.” My posture straightened. The evidence we were looking for wasn’t in a room, it was in a wall! I hurried down the hallway, ignoring the unopened doors I passed. I kept my eyes glued to the walls surrounding them, hoping to find some sort of evidence of a disturbance or opening.

I somehow found myself in the cafeteria of the warehouse. The room was large and open. Circular tables were thrown haphazardly around the room with a few chairs littered around them. Vending machines sat on the right with it’s contents still inside. I dared not try anything in them. The back wall was completely made of windows, framing perfectly the lake below. The sun had completely set and the night sky reflected perfectly in the water. The sight made me stop in my steps.

“What kind of company would pass up a view like this?” I found myself whispering as I watched the lake ripple in the wind. I sighed and looked down the hallway that I had left behind. Loads of doors had been left unopened and I could see Gavin was nearly finished with his hallway. I sighed. “My theory is coming up cold.” I said aloud to the empty room, hoping it would sympathize with me, “Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted my gut. Ugh, Gavin isn’t going to let me live this down, is he?” Hearing no response, and unwilling to wait for one, I slumped my head to the ground and moved to go back to my fruitless search and clearing adventure. 

I stopped in my tracks as I spotted something by the wall. Trails of scratches seemed to be trailing from it. As if something had been moved from the wall. Continuously. 

“Scuff marks.” I gasped as I looked up at the wall in front of me. All of the walls in that warehouse were cracked and falling apart but the cracks on this wall seemed to differ. They circled the wall and split it in half, like a gate into a foreboding passage. The kind of passage that only belonged in fairy tales. Most of the walls were also covered in moss and dust. Not that wall. That wall looked practically as good as new. I quickly scanned the wall for a way to open it. A place to push it or a hidden key or-... there, in the middle of the wall, was a hole with finger prints ridden all over it. My heart jumped. Evidence. I looked down the hall to Gavin. He seemed like a spec from how far he was from me. He wouldn’t be able to hear me if I called him over… and he wouldn’t be hurt if something dangerous was behind this wall. Making up my mind, I turned back to the wall.

Using my tanktop to stop myself from smudging the fingerprints, I put my hand in the hole. I felt around and found a spot where I could pull at the wall. I braced myself and pulled roughly. The section of the wall that was mapped out by the cracks surrounding it popped out of place, sliding perfectly into the scuff marks on the floor. The noise it made was earsplitting. “Well, at least I don’t have to call for Gavin.”  I cringed. I braced again as I placed my other hand in the newly opened space. I pulled the wall apart, causing the noise to sound again. The strength I had to use was unsettling. I took a mental note of it as I looked in the space I had opened. The blood vanished from my face. I didn’t expect to be so right but so wrong at the same time. The room was just a wall full of pictures of Evolvers, but every picture contained only one person. 

Me. 

The pictures covered the small space of the room. Pictures of me getting off of my bike, me working at my desk, me picking up Sam by the bus station, me at the meeting I held just the other day. That wasn’t all. A map sat behind the pictures. It was riddled with pen, graphing various places in Loveland. My apartment, the office, St. Richards, Bart and Maria’s house, my favorite restaurants, all mapped out by a red pen with the normal routes I used to get to each destination. Sticky notes scattered the wall as well. Chicken scratch filled them, made of handwriting that only a doctor could read. But, above it all hung a large black banner with the words, “Operation Montu” written in neon green and perfect cursive.

I felt my hands shake as my body involuntarily moved backwards, away from the horror show in front of me. The scene was too much. The idea was too much. Whoever was behind all of this didn’t care about destroying Evolvers, they cared about destroying me. They worked so hard to destroy me that they had a full operation behind it. They knew every move I was going to take before I took it.  My eyes frantically searched the wall further, scrounging for clues about who could be behind this. A thin table was crammed in the space between the wall and it’s door. It was mostly empty… except for…

“Ike!” Gavin called me. He was running to me with his gun raised. The shock of the scene in front of me gave me no time to realize how close he had gotten. He was already in the cafeteria and approaching the wall rapidly, “What have you-”

“Stop!” My voice was hoarse as I raised my hand hurriedly. He stopped just short of the door. 

“What is it?!” Gavin’s voice mixed with curiosity and worry. My words held themselves in my throat. Gavin, anxious at my silence, raised his gun and inched closer to me.

“Bomb!” I managed to sputter in fear of his steps. I watched the blood drain from Gavin’s face. I quickly looked back at the device on the desk. Wires portrayed from a piece of hardware on a small black packet that was wrapped in tape. There was no knowing what was hidden inside. A green light was blinking on the hardware. 

It had been activated. 

My heart and head raced as I tried to find solutions but there was only one thing that mattered. I could survive the bomb going off, but Gavin couldn’t.

“Stay put, Ike.” Gavin inched even closer, moving past the door and reached a hand out to me, “Take my hand.”

“No.” I desperately tried to warn him, pushing away his hand, “Gavin, you have to-.” It was too late. A rapid beeping came from the device. Without thinking, I grabbed Gavin’s arm and threw him to the windows of the cafeteria. 

The sound of the windows shattering was drowned out by a bright light and the earsplitting roar of death.

(Next)

[darkestshadeofgrey]

ELIAS

He avoids the mess with the First Order and its resistance-the conflict feels far too familiar for his liking-but Palpatine announcing his return is the first thing to tempt him to involve himself for more years than he cares to count. Nearly just as soon as he begins to contemplate this choice, however, someone else makes it for him. For the second time in his life he feels the Dark Lord of the Sith fall, and this time he takes the First Order with him. Once again, Elias finds his concern turn to curiosity, as the figure who bested Palpatine piques his interest.

It takes time to catch up-this one is constantly on the move it seems-but he finally manages to catch up to the famed hero of the resistance on, of all places, Coruscant. As he nears the long abandoned temple where he can sense her presence within, he takes a breath and thinks back on times long since passed. There’s a pain and a joy to those memories, but he casts both aside to focus on what he’s come for.

When he finds her, rummaging through what’s left of the archives, he’s astonished to find she’s little more than a child. He nearly lets disbelief see him turn around, but he then senses her grief, and also her resolve, prompting him to at least see this through.

“These halls have gone undisturbed for a very, very long time, youngling. Why have you chosen to see that streak broken now?”

REY

she is supposed to be alone here.

the force signature that seems to barge into the holy space rey has been rooting around in for the past day cycle makes no secret of its entrance. this, more than anything, jarrs rey into dropping the metal cylinder currently in her hand. inwardly cursing the state of her nerves, she manages to stop its descent with the force, but not before it hits several other items on the way down. lips purse so hard they turn white, but slowly she pivots in the direction of the insistent signature at her back. no avoiding it now.

every muscle and tendon is ready to spring as she fully faces the doorway where stands the shadow. from many feet away his eyes are starkly visible, and their brightness clashes with the darkness of his clothing. these are eyes she’s seen before, in someone else. in a dream. it stirs a little fear in the pit of her stomach and it fights her already wound up thoughts for dominance.

but, another skim of the force sets some of her tension at ease. there’s curiosity hovering between her and the stranger more than anything else. so she flexes her fingers and stares straight on. youngling. he’ll soon see she left the youngling she once was far behind her.

        “what do you want?”

ELIAS

The tension his voice brings her as it echoes through the hallowed hall is unsurprising, and though he makes no move towards his own weapons he is more than ready to defend himself if need be-he certainly looks the part of her enemy even if has yet to decide to count himself among them. There's a relief, though, and even a pleasant surprise at her reaponse, making him glad to see some defiance and curiosity cut through the fear and uncertainty that he can feel from her. He grins, and though the expression is hidden by his mask there is a mirth in his voice as he replies.

"Not much of one for answering questions, eh? Good. That will serve you well these days. You'd have fit right in with this lot as well, truth be told; they weren't fond of answering anything either."

He inadvertently lets some of his disdain slip through in those last words, lingering disappointment with the old order momentarily souring his mood. Cautious steps are then taken towards her, a finger idly dragging across tables on the way and leaving a trail in the dust.

"Thankfully for you, I am more willing to be forthcoming, whenit suits me. Consider me a.... interested observer. I do hope you didn't think thwarting the Dark Lord of the Sith would garner you no attention, because if so allow me to be the first to inform you that you were very sorely mistaken."

REY

a snarl begins to form upon hearing his derision, an automatic response still left over from her early days admiring those of the jedi order, but it abates when she hears truth woven in the retort. he isn’t wrong. her own question was partially borne out of the vague and wispy talk she’d heard so much of from luke, kylo, and even leia at times. it’s enough to mentally kick herself for absorbing what she’d hated so much about the way they’d spoken to her. from old dreams, she remembers snatches of anakin’s rage and frustration at the very same empty things he was told. it mirrored her own disillusionment at the time and frightened her deeply. now she understands where he who was to become darth vader was coming from – and yet knows the hopeful end to his story, though it came just barely before death caught up to him. she can’t forget how darth vader ended. but there was so much to dislike about the way things had been done until only recently, and she feels the pricks of that old darkness again. the stranger has hit upon it well. apparently it’s been passed down.

      “you knew some of them, then?” this could mean one of many things, but rey doesn’t want to waste time calculating odds when she could have her answers much sooner. since this intruder is so talkative, might as well take advantage. but first…

       “i didn’t do it to be noticed,” rey snaps quietly. the edges of the room blur, she remembers ashes falling. stones cracking. “someone had to do something and i was there. why does it matter who i am?”

ELIAS

She asked if he knew the Jedi of old, and while he’s certain her question is borne of simple and genuine inquisitiveness-he does speak with a certain familiarity and authority after all-the asking still manages to strike an all too sensitive nerve. He clenches his fist and the ground beneath their feet begins to quake. There’s a rather hasty build and it feels as though the entire temple rumbles as the rage and anguish that still constantly simmer just below the surface of him even after all these years bubbles over as thoughts of simpler, more peaceful times come to mind only to be quickly shattered by the memory of the one who brought them all to an end. The one man who tore down everything he knew and loved. Yes, the Jedi order was flawed, and broken, and a mere shell of what it was meant to be, but so long as it stood there was always the chance, the hope of changing for the better. Darth Vader stole that chance, dashed that hope, and brought all to ruin and ash. Anakin, his “brother”; oh how he hated him. And, as if betraying their order was not plenty reason enough to loathe him with every fiber of his being, Elias still remembered every agonizing second of how he was picked apart, chopped, and shredded under Vader’s methodical, almost clinically dispassionate hands. Vader destroyed everything he was and reshaped him into a plaything, a puppet, a weapon; a sharp edge to cut down those they both once called family. Vader twisted and warped Elias into everything they both once fought against, and for that, even in death, even in returning to the light at the end, would never receive forgiveness.

There is a strained pause of several seconds before he finds his voice again.

“…Yes, I knew them well.”

These words, spoken tersely through teeth clenched so tight they might seem near to cracking, are all he utters. He offers no further clarification of his proximity to the figures of legend, but, if her senses are up to snuff, he is sure she feels everything that he leaves unsaid. It takes several seconds for him to finally calm himself enough to not lash out at her. She is, after all, a child, who knows not of what she speaks. It helps to distract him when she mentions not understanding what it matters who she is, and he even lets out a humorless laugh.

“It matters more than anything, because who you are decides what comes next. You are the future of this galaxy, whether you want to be or not. Everything you do now affects what happens, because, by your actions, you have made yourself into such figurehead. The worlds all look up to you now as the hero who saved them from the tyranny of the dark side; the fabled Jedi of old resurgent. Because of this, whatever you choose to do or whoever you choose to be will set the tide and tone for all that is to come. You may not want attention nor think it matters who you are, little one, but it matters more than anything has in a looong time. That is why I wanted to see you. That is why you have my attention, because I want to see where we go from her. I myself tend to avoid the constant conflict of our galaxy, but even I recognize the significance of this; even I recognize what is important. And you are what’s important now. I have to say, I already like what I see. You have a fire to you that has been sorely needed for some time, and I look forward to seeing how you shake things up.”

REY

a wave of energy explodes across the room, emanating from the clenched fist of this masked man. taking care not to resist it, the wave flows through her. the impression she’s left with in the aftermath is strange: this outburst of anger is not so much directed at her but results more from unpleasant memories. all the same, rey can’t help but reach for her saberstaff. looking around, she sees tapestries on the walls tremble to the point that several slide down to the floor. relics she’d piled behind her topple and some break or clatter on the floor. she’d be far more irritated at the resulting destruction if she weren’t so simultaneously curious and a little frightened by this display.

whoever this man is, he has great power - or he has seen great power and not come away unscathed.

when the air in the room becomes still once more, the man speaks again, sounding wrecked. it’s almost as if the ghostly memory of a black masked, cloaked figure stands between them. taunting. this stranger knew anakin skywalker. this man knew darth vader.

unfortunately rey cannot dwell on this fascinating (or alarming) tidbit for very long before he moves on, and fast. the air around her shakes with conviction this time around, and the words that follow are such a blur of warnings and grudges and compliments that rey finds herself quite upended, unclear where to begin in response. faintly, the echoes of something she said to luke on ach-to float back to her. “kylo failed you. i won’t.” what promises rey makes she keeps to the best of her ability, but what she’s hearing opens her mind to the wideness of what she’s done. training, or trying, to become proficient enough to snuff out a lingering darkness in the galaxy was one thing. being tasked with ushering in a new age is another altogether. nobody told her to be ready for this.

        “i…..don’t know if i’m the person you think i am.” mouth hung halfway open, rey studies the dust motes drifting around her and thinks. “the jedi order is gone. i couldn’t resurrect it alone if i tried, and…..i don’t know that i should.”

ELIAS

There’s a strange comfort that comes from the way she is no repulsed nor even tries to shun or dismiss to fear his little outburst makes her feel. It’s a step in the right direction, and one he wishes the council had taken while it had the chance. He feels her fear shift back to curiosity and uncertainty, and as she continues to speak he can’t help but to smile once again.

“Well, you’re already a lot smarter than the last kid in your shoes. You actually bothered to stop and ask yourself questions like that, and it makes you exactly the kind of person I was hoping you’d be. It means that, even if you don’t always make the right choices, you’re thinking before you make them.”

He takes a moment to finally do away with some of the mystery, deciding to get somewhat comfortable with her. He peels back his hood and removes his mask, allowing his face to be in full view.

“I am Elias Kanu. No one of any import, really. Just a relic of a man who has seen much in his time. As for you, your importance is an unfortunate side effect of your actions. I know that your sudden significance is a lot for you to process, and its ramifications will not be apparent all at once, but I am certain no one else you know has the perspective to even make you aware of it, and I’d rather you not go in as blindly as your predecessor.”

REY

before she can help it, her nose crinkles at his use of the word “kid”, nearly leaving behind his compliments altogether. logically she knows that, once upon a time, luke skywalker could have been called that. it’s just that the almost stony and sad old man she met seemed to never have been young a day in his life. of all things though, this is probably not what she needs to get stuck on.

thankfully, elias removing his mask provides a necessary reset. what is it with men dressed like darkness itself introducing themselves to her by removing their masks? at least this man hadn’t let his reputation precede him.

    “elias.” rey nods sharply in greeting, loosening her white knuckled grip on the saberstaff. if need be she can still strike at any point. “thank you. for your advice and your warning. but what makes you so sure? people have been more than happy to tell me many things - about myself and the jedi - but not all of them have been true. or what i needed.”

ELIAS

He senses her incredulousness and indignance, and despite himself finds his lips curving slightly into a small smile. It reminded him of his own youth, to a point.

“You might say I have a…unique perspective on these matters. I’m not here to tell you anything about yourself, and anything I say about the Jedi will be more cautionary than the the lauding you’re likely used to, but I thought you ought to know what you represent now. I have my hopes and suppositions, of course, but neither I nor anyone else can dictate what you want or what you need or who you are or who you’re going to be. I just came to tell you that, whether you like it or not, everyone will now be watching to find out.”

REY

        “good.” another nod, stiff but more pronounced, accompanies the word. there’s so much mystery wrapped up in what he says and very little of what he’s hinting at sounds strictly positive, but rey can feel the slow approach of truth. this is what she’d wanted - from everyone. not platitudes about her abilities, though she has far more faith in them now than she ever has before, and for good reason. definitely not what her path forward must look like or else she will be as good as dead to the jedi order. this man knows things, and rey knows immediately that these are treasures she wants to rifle through and keep for herself. nearly gone are her thoughts on the trinkets piled behind her. there’s so much more to be discovered elsewhere. she can feel an old familiar itch in her fingers that promises something of value up ahead.

         “you said it yourself: i’ve been told many good things about the jedi. bad things, too. i know they became something other than what they were meant to be. i know luke skywalker had regrets, and so did the people who trained him. but i was never told the whole story. so what do you know?”

ELIAS

“More than most.” The response shoots out nearly before he can think on it, a certain sudden curtness to his tone that jars even him; if only because he marvels at how raw such old wounds still manage to be. He takes a moment to try and set that all aside, body relaxing as he lets out a slow exhale. He can already tell this is the first of a million questions the girl will have now that he’s established himself as an authority, and he can’t treat each one like a slap in the face.

“There is much about the twilight of the Jedi you won’t find in a history book. Most accounts either paint them as near mythical warriors of justice who swept through the galaxy and combated evil at every turn, while others say they are power hungry zealots who betrayed their closest allies and thus were vanquished for the sake of peace.

Peace, bah.” He has to scoff, shaking his head and thinking back.

“The Jedi saw themselves as peacekeepers. Conflict generally was frowned upon, though being able to defend yourself was a paramount skill to be learned. Towards the end, things had gotten pretty cushy for them. They’d aligned themselves with the Galactic Republic, the seats of power for both factions being on the same planet not too far from each other.”

He stops to look around the place, an amused smirk on his face as something occurs to him.

“ It’s funny to think about this temple, a supposed holy place for meditation and education to be located in a city that spans the entire rest of the planet, one that includes the center of galactic politics and the worst and most crime-ridden slums in the galaxy. Such a strange contradiction, this place’s very existence. Anyway, the order in its last days was a far cry from any legendary status they’ve gained nowadays. They were….people, really. People who adhered to a strict code. One made in, I’d like to think, an ideal time for an ideal situation. It put them in a bubble; one they never imagined would pop until it did. Then, the Clone Wars happened. It wasn’t even their war, not really, but as peacekeepers and allies to the Republic, they felt they had a duty to intervene. Keeping the peace meant waging war. That is how holy men became generals. How masters became murderers. It became a murky time, and the Jedi way wasn’t built for murkiness. It made them unable to fathom the war was anything but what it presented itself as, and by the time they saw anything more to it, it was too late to stop what was in motion. They ‘ended’ the war, but the Republic, now the Empire, took all the credit. A Sith Lord sat at the highest seat of power and systematically dismantled his greatest allies and his greatest competition: the Jedi. The council didn’t see it coming at all, so caught up in their own self-importance and chasing their own tails to see the threat right beside them. A lot of good people….people who had just been doing the best they could, were lost in the Purge….and only the lucky ones of those were killed. In the aftermath, both the Empire and those who remembered the Jedi were able to spin their own stories…their legends. Who would tell either side where they were wrong?

And so, here we are; nearly a century later with a mix match of stories told by scores of people who weren’t there and don’t know but are all absolutely convinced of the ‘truth’ of their accounts. Does that satisfy you as the ‘whole story’, youngling?”

REY

all focus is drawn to the sounds of history being spilled at her feet like poison spit from a snarling mouth. the only wise thing to do is listen, to soak up each detail like she is a sponge that will never fill. this knowledge cost something. many things, if she senses correctly. perhaps even shards of a soul. but it keeps spilling….and spilling and spilling. quite unknowingly, she’s broken open a geyser that has been stopped up for too long – and it’s raging.

while elias speaks, she can recalls that the brief time she spent on ach-to with luke opened her eyes wide to the fragility of what used to be the jedi order. while it might have once been a paragon of peace and justice - or actually accomplished anything noteworthy - enough pressure seemed to crumble it. even while luke valiantly tried to resurrect the soul of what the jedi used to be on crait with his last gasp, he couldn’t erase the truth that elias seems to be indicating as well: the jedi had lied to themselves for longer than they wanted to admit.  or worse, they’d convinced themselves over time that their code and their teachings were the only way, were the only truth. by the time the galaxy needed them most, they’d self-brainwashed themselves into blindness. blindness that left more than just peace in its wake, but lives as well.

through it all, rey feels the rate of her heartbeat ratcheting up and up while the tale spins darker and darker. she can feel the bitterness and judgment in the air coat the stones at her feet and climb up the walls, tingeing the air around the two force wielders a sickly gray. it’s as through elias’s very emotions are living beings, invisible to the naked eye but crowding the lonely room in a defunct temple so tightly it’s hard to breathe. rey waits long moments after elias finishes so she can wrestle back control over her heart and lungs. there are so many thoughts (chiefly that she will NOT be representing such a failed code) and questions to ask about what not to repeat and what to do differently, but before that…

“you were there, then. if the people that can only recount legends were never there, and you have the whole story, then you were in the middle of it. you knew them, and you saw what happened.” the fact that his force signature betrayed personal knowledge of anakin skywalker and darth vader is still vital, but that particular jedi turned sith was not the only player in the downfall of order in the galaxy. “and if that is the whole true story,” it is; she can feel it in the threads of the force that twist and warp around her, “then i will not represent something that failed so miserably!”

ELIAS

In the pause between his speech ending and her declarations beginning, Elias manages to center himself Picking at these old scabs is taxing-though necessary- so he takes whatever reprieve is afforded to him. It’s fortunate, then, that her final summation pulls forth hearty laugh out of him loud and genuine it nearly catches him off guard. “HAHA, that’s the spirit girl! Oh…you are, such a refreshing change of pace. I’m so used to these people and their…blind devotion, or baseless revulsion. You manage to recognize that the Jedi meant to do something right and were just shit at it. But you’re right: I was there. More than that, I was a one of them. I watched from the inside as the Order was destroyed, watched people I loved die in droves, and I watched and felt what the Empire built over their corpses. So I know, from experience, what a Jedi is meant to be, what the Order turned into, and -most importantly- what it could be. I see the latter in you, youngling. I see a chance to take the example of the best intentions of the Jedi, but the flexibility and wisdom to look beyond their rigid and unyielding code. When this conversation began I told you that you will be the example for what comes next, and I am now convinced you’re primed to set a good one. And to that end, I will do something I haven’t done in….a very long time: I offer my aid. You have many questions, I’m sure, and I will answer them all to the best of my ability.” 

REY

nothing so far has caused her more unease than this man’s laughter. it grates the air, making her grit her teeth in reaction. though his response isn’t strictly…..unpleasant, it’s the surprise of it that has her on edge. is he making fun of her? is he pleased? she has to hone her focus to him and anything he says to glean anything at all.

one of them. it was easy to put the pieces together before, but this admission makes everything quite real, stand in stark definition. how she takes comfort is realizing what it cost him to be part of the empire and the damage that was wrought upon his mindset. elias hasn’t recovered, may never recover, from what he has seen. this knowledge as good as any promise he could make to her that he doesn’t wish to cause her harm or derail her purpose.

      “you would?” this is an olive branch and compliment, she’s sure, but rey has never been good at properly responding to either of those. nevertheless, her spirits lift before she can stop them. maybe there’s no need to. “i do have many questions, and i need a teacher. though i’ve been offered help before and it’s done more harm than good. forgive me if i still have my doubts.” but she’s testing him. all of her wants to find out if he is as trustworthy as he postures himself to be. “if we are to do this….” slowly, she allows a half smile to surface. “you cannot call me youngling. no matter how old you are.”

ELIAS

Her excitement proves contagious, and he finds himself bizarrely eager to begin her instruction. He’s never had a student before-and in many ways still thinks of himself as one-but the prospect of sharing the trove of knowledge stored in his mind is suddenly quite alluring. He’s never even considered it before, and it amuses him to have so serendipitously stumbled upon such a fitting recipient.

He nods thoughtfully as she expresses her lingering doubts, understanding them completely. They have, after all, only just met and to expect implicit trust would be foolish. Her desire for her youth not to be so regularly pointed out, however, draws an exaggerated sigh and a rolls of his eyes.

“Very well. I suppose that takes ‘kid’ off the table as well then, eh? So what shall it be, then? Your reputation may precede you, but it unfortunately seems to have failed to include your name. As for your doubts, however, hold onto them. The last thing I would ever want is to silence that voice in your head that defies convention and seeks certainty. I aim to earn your trust, and, truth be told, I’d be horribly disappointed if you gave it away so carelessly.”

[daydreaming-jessi]

I hope you’re ready for a story about death. Beware, this will mention suicide and some gross things like bones cracking. Y’all said you wanted to hear it so I decided to go ahead and post it! The story of how Juno met Beetlejuice’s father and how she came to become the demon she is when we see her. It’s a mix of a fanfic with a lil comic in between because i drew it before I wrote this lmao and I wanted to include it but there wasn’t really a great way to do that. It’s a long boy, so the story’s under the cut. Hopefully it works, I don’t wanna clog anyone’s dash ^^’

Once, in a time long before cable tv was even a pipe dream much less when it was considered to be on its deathbed, there was a city where all thought it would reign endlessly. In that city there was a woman, long tormented by those above her. She felt powerless, that her fate was never in her own hands. She chased off all men that tried to marry her and control her even further, cut herself off from others that tried to subdue her. She was jeered at and made a pariah. She despised it all. She cursed the gods for bringing her to a world where she held no autonomy, she pleaded for something to change, something to give. It seemed that she would receive no aid though.

One night, she felt it was all too much. Drunk on gluttonous amounts of wine, she decided there was no hope for her. She took a knife, and one last time, despaired. “If I hold no freedom in life, then I shall seek it in the underworld, gods be damned!” And sliced her throat open. Her blood soaked the ground.

When she awoke again, she found herself not in what is described as the underworld. Instead, it was an endless void, with few shadowy wisps wandering the inky, black scape.

There the woman wandered, her wound on her throat constantly aching, forever reminding her of her deeds, though most everything else of her life was long forgotten in the void. Far did she walk, for there was no time to keep, no exhaustion or desire to hold her back, as she searched for anything. It was not until the darkness became a misty white did she take pause, wondering if any of this was worthwhile.

Then, she heard a noise. A groan, the shuffle of something large moving, and she felt that something with an endless gaze was watching her.

“Hey, that something has a name thanks! Also, you make me sound creepy, I’m just looking at the lady that’s wandered onto my turf, narrator!”

The woman startled, it had been so long since she’d heard another speak in a tongue she understood.

“Why so serious, eh? I thought this was supposed to be a funny story! Like, I know this story has a suicide in it and stuff, but man is this a downer. Ever heard of dark comedy?”

“Who’s there?” The woman asked, her voice a croak from long disuse, the air hissing out of her throat.

“What, you can’t see me yet? Are you blind or something? Oh crap, wait are you blind? This will be awkward if you’re actually blind, shit,” the voice responded.

The woman squinted her eyes, seeing a towering mass in the mist, just out of sight, sending a chill of terror down her spine. “Are you a god? A beast? Here to finish me off finally?” The woman tried to hide her fear, standing behind a mask of pride.

“Ha, God! That’s a good one. Beast is probably closer. Here, lemme just, don’t wanna scare this one off…”

The mass twisted and the sound of bones cracking and bloody flesh squelching filled the air. The woman tripped backwards hastily, watching as the creature moved inhumanly. Finally, a man stepped forward, a man much bigger than her, both physically and seeming mentally, wearing clothes the woman had never seen before, strangely tailored to his body in a way she had couldn’t quite comprehend. His hair flared out wildly, seeming to be a sort of black with green tint that seemed to be… moving. His eyes were the most startling of all, a bright luminescent green that seemed to pierce into the woman’s very soul.

“How do ya do? Been a while since one of you newly dead’s wandered all the way out here. Usually it’s just me and my two buds,” the man grinned, revealing sharp teeth that belonged more to a predator than a man.

The woman swallowed thickly. “Buds?” She asked, trying to keep her body from shaking.

“Yeah, Tunk and Harley. They’re a riot,” the man said, jutting a thumb to two boulders that seemed to suddenly appear from the mist.

The woman blinked, taken aback by this man, thing, creature’s attitude.

“Speaking of, what about you? What’s yer handle?” The man was suddenly at the woman’s side, eyes darting over her in a quick one over. The woman startled away, gasping. His skin was almost translucent, and he reeked of sulfur.

She took a deep breath, composing herself, before the question hit her. Who was she? She almost crumbled to her feet upon realizing that she had no answer.

“Ah, jeez, they sent another fainter. Here, sit on Harley, she doesn’t mind the weight,” the man helped the unnamed woman onto the bigger of the two boulders.

The man plopped onto the other one in a most undignified state, picking at his sharp teeth with fingers that, upon a second look, were not human hands. It was as if his fingertips were frostbitten, but rather than fall off, they grew claws that belonged to a bear.

“What is this place?” The woman finally asked, desperate for some sort of answer to all this madness she’d been subjected to.

“Ah, there’s that thousand dollar question. You, my friend, are the lucky new inhabitant of the netherworld! Applause may be had now,” an uproarious applause filled the air, as streamers and balloons manifested as well, though how the unnamed woman knew what these things are was uncertain. The man crossed his legs, twice. With a third leg.

“Now, you may be wondering, Netherworld? But I thought the afterlife was ‘insert belief here’, and I’m here to tell you everything you knew was wrong! There’s no god, no cycle, no anything! It’s all one big ol’ void! Welcome, to the rest of your afterlife! Drifting around nowhere forever, until you finally dissolve into that nothing. Exciting isn’t it?” The man continued.

The woman’s head spun. Nothing? No gods? No underworld? No judgement? Only a void? It sounded so... chaotic. “But, but how could there be nothing? How could there be no gods? We-we came from something how could we dissolve into nothing?” She asked.

The man shrugged, still seeming quite chipper about the whole thing. “Don’t ask me. I just live here.”

“But, but… what about you? Aren’t you going to fade away as well?” The woman asked, desperate.

“Oh I can’t. I’m technically not dead! No I’m a shoggoth, and we just... Live here. Rents cheap, restaurants are alright, and just lookit all this space! Can’t complain, I guess.”

“But, but, how can you live? Why must I die? What is the difference between you and I? Dammit! Dammit all, it’s just as unfair in death as it is life! Damn everything, damn it all to oblivion with me!” The woman stood, rage filling her empty veins. All of the suffering, it was never ending. She would never find peace.

The man, the shoggoth, watched the woman with interested eyes. A plan was forming in his mind, a plan he’d long since been thinking. “It is unfair, isn’t it? Man everyone hates it! No point to doing anything, it’s all for naught. We’re all gonna waste away. Well, you are. I won’t. I’ll just be stuck here in the boring old Netherworld. Forever. Chatting with rocks and making mist puppets.” He demonstrated this skill with a beautiful puppet recreation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

The woman paused in her ranting, looking over to him. “There must be a way, there must be a way to change this.”

Hiding a smirk, the shoggoth stood. “Well… there could be. Might be. Possibly be. It all depends, I guess.”

“Enough of your riddles. What is it you have schemed, I can see for myself you know a way.”

The shoggoth blinked, caught off guard by the woman’s rushing through his theatrics. He quickly shook himself back to his plan.

“Alright, smart woman I see. So, I’m a shoggoth. A powerful, unstoppable beast. I can crush cities, move mountains, do whatever I want. But I’m trapped here. No shoggoth can leave the netherworld. And newly deads? They’re powerless wimpy lil things, but. If they were to have the power of a shoggoth, well, I always thought you lil air suckers are pretty unstoppable. No way could the netherworld hold you back if you had the right tools to get outta here. So! I think, maybe we should form a deal!” He held his hand out to the woman, trying to smile charmingly, emphasis on trying.

The woman stared at him flatly, unsure. “A… deal…” she said.

“Yes’m, a deal! Just one little itty bitty deal that combines my powers with your soul, giving you the power to do as you please, and giving me the ability to finally go where I please. All we have to do is share a name, giving us a connection.”

He could see that she was hesitant. It was time to put on the charm. Humans like nicknames, right?

Power filled the air. The woman, now Juno, felt her body tear itself apart molecule by molecule, and repiece itself back together. She wasn’t sure if she screamed or if it was the sound of the world around them bending to the shoggoth’s will.

After what felt like eternity, Juno opened her eyes. Abdul looked back worriedly. Upon seeing her moving, he breathed a breath of relief. “Oh good! I thought you were like, dead squared.”

“What... is this...?” Juno brought her hand to her face. Already her thoughts were filled to the brim, she knew the ins and outs of the netherworld, how to manipulate it, to control it. Energy hummed under her skin, the sensation of her slashed throat long in the past. Slowly, she moved her hand, the mist formed into a ball before her. Slowly, a smile filled her face.

“This is having control over your own soul. Looks like we’re not powerless anymore!” Abdul grinned, reaching a hand down. Juno took it and he helped her stand up, and she slowly moved forward, marveling at the way everything looked now. She understood what it all was, what Abdul was, what she was.

“So, partner! Ready to take the world by storm?” Abdul asked. Juno turned back to him, and for a single second Abdul felt a flicker of hesitance. Something was different. For one moment, Abdul saw something in Juno’s now red eyes, and for the first time ever he felt a shadow of fear.

But then Juno smiled coolly, looking normal once more. “A demon and a shoggoth together are unstoppable. It is time to bring order to the netherworld. A system. We cannot have souls wandering around so freely. What if they found shoggoths as well? We can’t have everyone have this power, lest one starts to take it away from others for themselves. Come, Abdul. Let’s get to work.”

Abdul watched as she started off, back to where the souls came into netherworld. “Hey, narrator... is this really a happy ending? I’m not so sure. I mean, Juno seems nice and all. Just, is this really what she should have?” he muttered.

I cannot answer.

Abdul sighed, unhappy at the lack of response, and started after Juno. “Probably just overthinking. I always overthink, y’know? Who cares. Soon I’ll be able to see earth. I’ll be able to see what the humans like about life so much. Hell yeah. Yeah! Wait up Juno!” He hurried after her, leaving Tunk and Harley in the mist.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 55

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

Things have been out of whack in the real world for a bit, so I know I’ve gotten behind on things like updating the Master List for this story, and especially behind on posting it to Wattpad.  My goal for this week is to have all that sorted out by Friday, so keep your eyes open.

Parts of this chapter were inspired by a conversation I had with @baelpenrose. It’s always surprising what things in my life inspire parts of this story, especially the people.

Content warning: Someone yelling and throwing things. It’s a temper tantrum, and no one gets hurt, but just in case, I wanted to give a head’s up.

”Damn it all to HELL!”

I stopped in the middle of what I was telling my sister as we both whipped our heads toward the shout, which was quickly followed by a crash. We glanced back at each other, her wide-eyed expression a mirror of what I imagined my own face looked like.

That shout came from my quarters, with a suspiciously heavy Irish accent.

We dashed to my door, stopping to peer around the corner as slowly as possible. I wasn’t sure about Tyche, but I had seen Conor angry before.  It was rare, and it took a lot, but when it happened, it happened in a big way.   This time, even I was surprised by the sheer magnitude; as we watched, he shouted and threw things, subconsciously careful to avoid hitting any terrariums or people.  Even so, Zach Khan was dodging to hide behind whatever piece of furniture he could impose between himself and my enraged partner.

Taking a deep breath, I stood tall and squared my shoulders, gently pushing down my sister’s arm when she tried to stop me from confronting Conor.  Firmly, I knocked on the threshold of the wide-open entrance before striding in with more confidence than I currently felt.  “You could at least close the door,” I suggested airily, trying to get his attention.

As I hoped, he whirled around to face me, disheveled hair falling in his face. “Sophie,” he started trying to explain. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“Hello to you, too, sweetie,” I smiled before stretching on my tiptoes as he automatically leaned down to let me kiss his cheek.  “I waited until you were on the other side of the room, facing away.  But that doesn’t explain why you’re currently scaring Zach and Tyche.”

All anger gone at this point, he stepped around me and toward my sister.  He crouched and softened his voice like he was coaxing a scared kitten, which I reminded myself firmly not to laugh at. “Oh gods, Tych, love, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t hit you with anything, did I?” He whirled to face me, all color drained from his face. “Please tell me I didn’t hit you with anything?” he begged, hitting his knees.

“Zach, you can come out now. It’s over,” I called softly to the sofa, before walking over, wrapping my arms around Conor, and assure him I was fine. Really, all he had done was make a mess. “Maybe take up boxing,” I suggested softly, brushing his hair back out of his face. “It’s a much healthier outlet for your frustration.”

Tyche came in the room, tentatively at first, then more confident when she saw Conor’s face buried in my stomach.  She started to pick up debris from the floor, but was interrupted. “Put it down, woman,” the muffled admonishment came from my abdomen. “I made the mess, my job to clean it up.  That’s the rule.”

She sputtered in exasperation. “Then what can I do!?  This place is a mess, and my anxiety says to clean or do something to fix it,” she scolded at my back.

“How about some coffee,” I suggested with a chuckle, patting Conor on the shoulder in indication that he should get started with cleanup.

Once everyone got settled – including Zach with a cocoa, seeing as he was practically vibrating with anxiety – and Conor went about restoring order to our living space and apologizing to the plants, I asked, “Are you going to blow up again if I ask what you were so angry about?”

Conor dropped his hands to his side and tilted his head back to face the ceiling. “No, I won’t. And it was Huynh.”

Tyche growled ferociously before elbowing me. Oh.

That was me growling, not her.

He continued blithely. “The diving platforms are showing signs of rust damage.” Frustration was showing in his tone, but not anger. So far, so good. “Since I was head of the project, he is coming down on me hard. Trying to say I cut corners, didn’t coat everything properly, used the wrong materials, basically just bollocked the whole thing.”

“But you were the one who ordered one of the platforms taken out entirely because it was too close to the line for spec…”

“Hey,” he pointed at me firmly. “That thing would have been clearly out of spec if the temperature varied more than about twenty degrees.”

“It’s climate controlled, and that’s my point. You literally went with ‘better safe than sorry’ the entire time, and he got mad at you for wasting materials to meet the guidelines.”

“That’s my point!” he cried in frustration, flinging his arms wide and falling to his back with a thud that made me wince. “And now, he’s reversed course and accusing me of shoddy workmanship. I can’t win!  Even though Mav signed off that everything was dead level, on the nose within tolerance.”

“Wait,” Zach interjected, wrinkling his nose. “Why would Maverick sign off on that? He’s a pilot. That doesn’t make sense.”

Tyche snickered. “He’s a pilot when we need a pilot. Which is nearly never, so he’s more like an insurance policy there – better to have and not need than need and not have.  No, he’s quality control for any equipment in the research labs.”

“That’s just… what? Not tracking.”  Poor Zach looked like he was getting a headache.  I dropped another marshmallow in his cocoa, and he looked like I had answered his prayers. Ah, yes. Marshmallow makes sense in this crazy world.

“He has an insane eye for detail and is a completely arse about precision,” Conor’s tone was so fond it barely escaped being considered cooing.  He shook his head and glowered at the boot wedged under a piece of furniture. “Huynh is calling that nepotism, by the way.”

“But he’s even worse here!” I cried.  Tyche nodded vigorously, having been subjected to a two-hour rant when she put away a fork the wrong way.  Not in the wrong drawer, the wrong direction.

Maverick was permanently in charge of setting the table for every meal.  It was the only way to avoid killing him outright.

“Okay…” Zach trailed off, pinching his nose and vigorously wiggling his mug to beg for more chocolate salvation. “But the platforms are still rusting?”

“All three,” Conor confirmed.  “They’ve warped badly enough that we had to declare them unsafe until we can figure out the issue.”

“Wait. They rusted that badly in four months?” Tyche looked so confused it made my face hurt in sympathy.  “How is that even possible? Even if you didn’t take any measures to prevent rust, it shouldn’t be that advanced.”

“Grey is trying to figure that out. It’s also why Mav is stuck at work and not here for dinner.”

As much as I wanted to laugh at the – very manly – pout I was witnessing, I was also frustrated by the interruption in our routine.  Shaking my head, I tried to steer the conversation away from our errant pilot. “Is there a possibility that one of the lab’s experiments could have caused the issues?”

Conor shook his head before surveying the area for any more storm damage. “If that was the case, it would be so corrosive everything in the habitat would have died, and all the swimmers would be burned.  We would have known almost instantly.” He raked a hand through his hair, turning to face us. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s Grey.”

“What I don’t understand,” Tyche ventured, “is that the materials were fabricated here on the Ark, right?  The facilities are obviously more advanced than anything we could have managed before.” She waved her hand at the ceiling for emphasis. “So, how could there be any flaws in the materials themselves?”

“The program still has to be written,” Zach groaned as he leaned forward. “You’re right about the system being more advanced, but that also means it’s incredibly finicky and precise. One character out of place, and everything used could be worthless. And before you ask,” he held up both hands defensively, “I personally checked the programming against what it should have been, and there are exactly zero errors. It’s literally the cleanest bit of programming I’ve ever seen.”

Conor nodded, heading to the kitchen for his own coffee. “And before anyone asks, we’ve had the calculations checked over by six different people, plus our mate Noah.  Calculations are accurate, they were programmed in accurately, and Grey’s people have tested to make sure the output is accurate.  Mav has already measured the samples with everything he could get his hands on, and they all show the amount of precision you would expect from an advanced civilization.  No fault to be found in the materials, whatsoever, which is where I come in.”

“Ugh. Huynh needs someone to blame, and since the materials are as perfect as you could ever dream of, he’s putting the fault in the construction?” I may have had my moments of grudging respect, but I never quite managed to like the bastard. Here he was, proving me right.

“Which puts me on furlough until they figure out what the cause is, yeah.” He huffed explosively and flopped down into the seat my sister vacated for him. “At least I can still work in the hydroponics lab.”

“No offense to you, Zach, but have you considered having Derek cross check the program?”

“None taken, and yes,” he sighed. “But he’s been holed up in his quarters for two weeks now, won’t talk to anyone.  I sent him several requests, but never got a response.”

Alarmed, I started to say something, but Tyche cut me off. “I already checked with Noah, and Derek’s okay.  Not sleeping well, but otherwise his physical health is fine.”

I stood anyway, frowning. “That’s good to hear, and I know he goes through periods where he can’t be around people, but two weeks?  It’s not like him.”  Snatching up my purple fuzzy blanket, I headed to the door. “Mac in your quarters?”

“Yeah, but Soph – “

“Nope.  I’m taking him the blanket and the cat.  If he wants to talk, he’ll talk, but at least this way I can see him with my own eyes. I won’t be long, I promise.  Zach, feel free to stay for dinner.  We’re doing pizza tonight.”  With that, I took off, focused on my mission.

It only took me about fifteen minutes to collect my furry co-conspirator and make it to Derek’s quarters. “Hey,” I called softly, praying he still had the outer microphone on. “I heard you’ve been taking some alone time, so I thought I would bring you the blanket and your buddy.  No clue how you managed two weeks without him, but Mac misses you – “

The door slid open, revealing a piled of blankets with a surly, squinting face poking out. The door is keyed to let him in, Derek said impatiently before stepping aside to let me in.

As soon as the door closed behind me, the blanket monster stomped past and dropped on the bed.  I was relieved that nothing about the room immediately screamed for help.  Low lights, white noise in the background, and about as tidy as I could expect from a seventeen-year-old.  Two arms thrust themselves from the heap of fabric on the bed, hands grasping in a gesture that needed no working knowledge of sign language to understand.  Obediently, I handed over the soft purple offering in my hands.  Meanwhile, Mac dropped gracefully next to Derek with a demanding yowl.

“He likes to be invited,” I explained gently.  It was taking every ounce of willpower – and some I was pretty sure I didn’t possess – to keep myself from interrogating him on the length of his isolation.  Instead, I watched him rub my blanket against his face with one hand while the other tugged the large black cat onto his lap and started stroking it.  Despite token resistance, Mac quickly settled in for what was likely long-overdue and well-deserved attention.

I waited a few seconds, in case Derek wanted to talk, then cleared my throat. “Well… let me know if you need me to bring you anything else, okay?  And remember, cheese will make Mac sick, no matter how much he likes it.”  Quietly, I left with clenched teeth and eyes burning from tears I refused to shed.  I was trying to break my habit of smothering people, but it was hard.  Logically, I knew Derek could take care of himself – superficially, he had been doing fine.  But the fact that every blanket he seemed to own was layered over him, even just to answer the door?  He needed comfort, clearly.  Being incredibly touch-averse, I had to restrain my urge to hug him and let Mac and the blankets do the work.

Halfway back to my quarters, my databand chirped.  With a flick, I displayed the screen to see a message from him. “Not sleeping well. Nightmares.  They make me jumpy.  Mac will help.”

The corner of my mouth quirked up, despite my heart wanting to break. “He’s good for that,” I replied. “He eats nightmares, I think.”

“I’m not a child, I don’t need silly stories.”

I scoffed. “I know that. I’m being serious.  I never have nightmares when he’s around, and he always makes that face like he just ate when I wake up. Either he’s figured out how to work a console or he eats bad dreams.”

“I’ll lock down my console and let you know.”

With a deep breath, I told myself Derek would be okay and strolled back into my quarters.  Zach, Tyche, and Conor were in the kitchen, laughing and working on getting the pizza dough going.  It panged my heart not to see Maverick, but a part of me hoped that he would still manage to make it home in time to eat with us.

I’ll make an anchovy pizza, just in case, I told myself.

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[squiishiichaos]

Maybe a salty vanroku? They find they both are salty about a lot of stuff and bond

(Oof.  You mean just Vanroku in general?  Okay!  Let’s fuckin’ do this!)

____

People make mistakes–at least, that’s what the masters say–but Vanitas sometimes had to wonder if people themselves weren’t just mistakes by their very nature.  

Take this fuck-nugget for instance. 

Ever since being given a Replica body to live in, the Blonde dual-wielder had basically become a legend among the heroes of both Dark and Light.   Vanitas could still remember rolling his eyes a time or two when Xemnas would speak so highly of the Nobody who had single-handedly almost torn his entire organization asunder.  As far as the Unversed was concerned, that said far more about Xemnas’s leadership than it did about the kid who cheated his way through life.

What made Roxas special enough that the Organization would save him a fucking chair?  There was no guarantee he was even still alive, let alone that he would rejoin them, and even if he did, Vanitas didn’t see why they needed another half-pint to drag their team along.  Wasn’t he enough?  

Hah, he barked at his own mind.   Even he was aware how fucked that sentiment was.  He’d never be enough for Xehanort.  Never.   He could have single-handedly defeated every single last one of the Guardians of Light and still not have been enough.  

But no.  They had lost, and now, he had to pay the piper here, sitting across the way from his Other’s once empty Look-alike.  

Who the fuck decided he should be the one to guard me?  “What’s so great about you?”

“Excuse me?”   He hadn’t meant to say that, but now that the words were out there, Vanitas found no real reason to stop them.

“You don’t look that special to me,” he continued with a glare.  “So what if you can wield two keyblades?  That hardly matters if you’re just two-bit trash.”

“As if you’re one to talk.  You couldn’t even beat Ventus.”  

Vanitas snarled.  “He had help.”

“So, did you.  What’s your excuse?” This insufferable little–”if you can’t put your money where your mouth is, I don’t suggest opening it.”

“Give me back my keychain and I’ll gladly put your light-loving ass in its place.”

“Afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?  You afraid of what those third-rate Masters will do if they catch you fraternizing with the enemy?”  Further evidence this kid wasn’t Ventus rested in the twisted smirk that tilted his lips up on the left in something like amused disgust.   Almost like there was something about Vanitas that made him sick to his stomach.  

Good.  “I ain’t afraid of anyone–especially not you–but I’m also not stupid.  I give you back that keychain, you’re just gonna run right back to your Pops for cover.”  

Oh, yeah, this kid was definitely not Ventus.  “Why?  So he can tell me what a fucking failure I am?   I’d rather beat your ass any day…”

“Assuming you even could.”  Cerulean narrowed on him with a leer that was equal parts testy and amused.  

“I don’t see what you think makes you so strong.  You’re just another useless Nobody.  A shell without a heart, wasting away day by day.”

“I used to think that, too,” Roxas told him on a tone that was fretfully flat, “but I have one now.”

“How are you so sure the others didn’t just lie to you about that?”  How did they know what a heart was?  Not even Ansem the Wise had been able to pinpoint what made a heart a heart.  It was a mystery–just another question no one had been able to explain to him.  

“I’ve felt enough hurt to know it’s there.”

“Hurt,” Vanitas snarled, “that’s your answer?  A measly feeling?”

“Bet it’s more than you’ve ever felt.”

Vanitas couldn’t help his scoff.  “I wouldn’t be so sure, Doppelganger.”

“You’re one to fucking talk.”

“I didn’t choose this face.”

“And neither did I!  You think I wanted to be some sort of carbon copy pieced together by two lost hearts?”

“One of those hearts was supposed to be mine!”

Oh no.  

He’d said too much.  He could see it in the slight narrow of those blue eyes and the furrow of golden brows.  The scowl that fell heavy over his taut lips.  It was an expression that would’ve looked out of place on his Brighter half.  One that was touched by a hint of darkness so disastrously familiar it almost forced a ball of tangible bile up his throat.

He swallowed the flood back down before it could be born anew in the space between them.   Roxas swallowed back his own demons where he stood pale across the way.

Vanitas couldn’t help a low growl.  “Go ahead,” he goaded, “pity me just like the rest.”

“No,” the Blonde sighed, letting his weight fall back against the wall behind him with a dull thud before sliding down to the floor.  

“But I thought you had a heart.”

“I do, and it wants pity even less than you do.” Vanitas actually chuckled.

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Try me.”   At that challenging tone, the Shadow couldn’t help sitting up a little bit straighter and meeting that blue-eyed glare head-on.  

“What?  You wanna compare scars now?”

Roxas shook his head with a frown.  “All that does is make the wounds deeper.   I’m trying to work on this thing where I don’t pick at my stitches until I bleed.”

That was a feeling Vanitas could understand well.  “It’s a difficult stride to maintain.  Sometimes, the pain is more grounding than anything.”

“Reminds you you’re alive,” Roxas agreed.   Looking at his hand, the Blonde turned it this way and that in the sparse light of the room.  “It’s like that first breathless rush of adrenaline at the start of a fight.  For that brief moment, you feel invincible–like you could do anything and not a soul could touch you.”

“But then it wears off,” Vanitas drawled, “and you realize that death is still an inevitability waiting for you somewhere down the line.”

“I used to push myself until I was too exhausted to continue,” the Blonde told him.  “At least with all my muscles sore and protesting I knew I wasn’t dead.”

“For a Nobody, that’s all you can feel without a heart.”

“For an Unversed, too, I bet.”  

Vanitas let out a snort that was more painful than humoring.  “On the contrary, I always felt too much.”

“Ah,” there was a tone there that sounded like he might have actually understand, even if he didn’t understand anything at all, “the beauty of emotions, right?  Keyblades are easy to control, but feelings?  Not so much.”

“Is that how you feel now that you have your own heart?  My–” he swallowed down the word that ached at his throat and instead averted his eyes away from knowing blue, “I always thought it would end when I was complete.  That the pain and hurt would disappear and it would all come to a balance.”

“It doesn’t,” Roxas told him.  “I thought the same thing when I merged with Sora–but it remained there, deeper than before, and there was nothing I could do to assuage it.”

“Yeah,” Vanitas sighed, “I know that now.”

“Then why were you so desperate to merge with Ventus at the Graveyard?”

“That…” He pursed his lips and looked up at Roxas.  Would he understand?  Would anyone?  “It wasn’t me…not this me.”

“Well, I’m glad this you knows better.  The last thing we need is Sora coming back from his journey and wondering why Ven and you aren’t individuals.”

Vanitas scoffed.  “Like he’d even care–”

“It’s Sora,” Roxas argued with a glare, “he cares about everyone.”  

“Well, he’s the only one.”  The Blonde let out an aggrieved sigh and sank deeper into his seat.

“That’s a lie, you know.   Ventus…cares…sometimes…”

“I think I’d rather he didn’t,” Vanitas admitted solemnly.  “It’s easier when no one cares.”

“You’re not wrong…”

For a single beat of silence, neither of them said a word.   In this empty chamber located deep in the halls of Radiant Garden, the discomfort of soundless torment hit him a little harder when there was actually someone willing to indulge him.   At least that was better than listening to the voices in his head…

A part of him that had been alone for far too long, yearned for a connection to something.

“So,” Vanitas diverted with a sidelong glare at the Doppelganger, “why are you still here?   You’ve defeated the enemy and earned your heart, your keyblades…seems pointless to remain here.”

“Where else am I gonna go?”

“Anywhere.  You’re complete and whole.  There must be something you’ve always wanted to do.”

“You first.”  Vanitas rolled his eyes.

“I always hoped to get an actual look at Scala.   My…he never allowed me aboard the Islands…”

“And I’ve always wanted to see the Ocean.”  With a slight smirk, Roxas leaned forward onto his knees and met his gaze with a light that was so Sora and yet so not.  “Let’s go–together!”

“Hah.  As if either of us would enjoy that…”

“I would,” Roxas told him with sincere confidence.  “Would definitely be better company than Riku, for sure.”

“Finally,” the Shadow grinned–all fangs and malice–”something we can agree on.”

“So, is that a go?”

“You’re serious…”

“Well, yeah,” Roxas shot back, “there’re rarely times I’m not serious.”

Thinking on it a moment, Vanitas sunk back against the wall with a deep sigh and a glare at the blonde.  He doubted this would be fun, but compared to the alternative…

“I doubt your friends will let me go freely, even in your…capable hands.”

“Leave that part to me,” Roxas wore an expression only someone who had done horrible things could enjoy, “I’ll make sure we can leave hassle-free.”

“And Void Gear?  As legendary as your dual-wielding is, I don’t need some half-pint protecting me from weak-ass Heartless.”

“What, you mean this?”  Holding up his keychain, Roxas sneered at the look that came over Vanitas’s expression.  “You’re not the only sneaky half-pint around, you know.  Now, c’mon, my Stopza will wear off in a couple of minutes and we’ll need the head start without corridors to dash through.”

Alright, Vanitas could admit as he caught his offered keyblade and cautiously followed the Doppelganger, I suppose this could be fun…

It was the first time he almost felt happy.   Almost.

[master-thief-gray-shadow]

So as of today it’s been exactly one year since I first watched Revue Starlight, and it’s been a really interesting year. I’ve been thinking about the impact the series has had on my life lately and felt like I needed to get some thoughts down.

TW: self harm mention, suicide mention

Love Live changed my life. It was not my first fandom ever, but it was the first one where I got seriously involved with the community. Not only did I manage to make friends within the fandom (and to be honest these friends have proven truer than any I’ve had in real life), but I also managed to meet not one but two amazing partners, which is two more than I’d ever anticipated I’d have. Love Live was good to me, and for a good three years I happily allowed it to consume my very soul. But things like these don’t last forever.

I don’t talk about it much (there’s a reason why but that’s another story), but I am autistic and I do have ADHD. Obviously hyperfixations are a big part of my life. The big ones tend to last for years. Naruto was three or four, Touhou was a solid three, Kancolle was less than a year but I feel like it would have been longer if I hadn’t forcibly divorced myself from it due to the fact that my mental health at the time was spiraling out of control. Love Live was just another one of these things. For years it was constantly in my thoughts, and at the height of all this I couldn’t watch a movie without thinking “hm, what if this was Love Live characters?” It gave me a reason to live and got me through a few rough patches. But my interest did eventually start to wane. Unfortunately this coincided with one of those rough patches, and this particular one had something that I hadn’t had to deal with in a while: uncertainty.

Early last year I quit my job. It was a customer service job, one that I had been at for a few years and was starting to get tired of. I figured that I would be unemployed for a month or two (which at the time sounded refreshing, one of the reasons I quit was because the job had become so soul-sucking that I didn’t have energy for anything else) before getting a new one, preferably one with better hours and better pay. What I hadn’t counted on was my depression, which was already a contributing factor in my somewhat fragile state, utterly consuming me now that I didn’t have any kind of routine or purpose, and was therefore at the mercy of my thoughts at all times. I tried to take refuge in Love Live like I always had, and for a while, it worked. But eventually it just kind of...stopped working. So here I was, unemployed, depressed, and rapidly losing the ability to find joy in things. All that, but thankfully in no actual, real, physical danger. But apparently my brain thought I was. So that’s what it started telling me.

I’m not gonna go into what I specifically believed was happening. The long and short of it was that I started having irrational fears about my health, brought upon by some discussion that was going on in the spaces I hung out in. At first I was able to just dismiss it as paranoia, but certain things happened that only served to deepen it. Eventually I started thinking that I needed to go to the hospital, but what for? Nobody would believe there was anything wrong. I didn’t even believe it myself, at least consciously. But my brain was telling me I needed to go. And if I didn’t have an obvious reason to, I should give myself one.

I did not actually reach the point of doing self-harm, fortunately. But I came close. One evening something triggered a massive panic attack, and I, sincerely believing my life was in danger, began seriously, seriously considering it. I was very lucky that my parents kind of knew what was going on and rushed me to the hospital before I could do anything I might regret. I ended up spending a few days in the hospital’s psyche ward, which from what I’ve gathered was actually pretty okay as far as psyche wards go, but it was still a quiet and sterile place with no clocks and no contact with the outside. I was relieved to get out, to say the least. Even spending five and a half hours a day in intensive therapy, five days a week, was an improvement. I even managed to keep the job I had just started.

And that was the state I was in when I first watched Revue Starlight. Crawling my way out from the bottom of a pit. I had heard of the show, I’d seen it on my dash a few times, and this one anon, you know who you are, kept recommending it to me, which I had responded to every time with “okay, I’ll consider it.” For the past month or two I had been watching JoJo for the first time, and I had just finished Stardust Crusaders. Stardust Crusaders, if you haven’t watched it, is not bad at all. But it is very long and has some pacing issues. I needed a break from JoJo. A short one-season anime like Revue Starlight? The perfect palette cleanser. After all, it’s just Love Live with swords, right? It’s not like it’s gonna take over my life or anything.

And it didn’t. The first three episodes were...uh...well, I was more than a little confused. I didn’t really gel with any of the characters or understand what was going on, so, upon finishing episode 3, I unceremoniously closed the tab and declared myself done. At least that was how it was initially. One evening a couple days later I found myself bored, and figured that I might as well just finish the thing. I had time to kill, after all.

Now this was what did the trick. This time I found myself blown out of the water, especially by the finale, which had just aired that day. Revue Starlight quickly flooded in to fill the void Love Live had left, and I found myself giddy with that new hyperfixation feel. Therapy was going extremely smoothly, I started getting the hang of my new job, and I was even going to the gym regularly. I had something to live for again. A rope to hold onto so I wouldn’t fall deeper and hit the bottom that I’d struggled so hard to climb away from. No matter what happened, I would have the 99th Seisho class to fall back on.

Things, of course, did happen. I grew to resent my job, which wasn’t well-suited for me, so I started looking for a new one. A better one. I had my eye on one in particular, it seemed like a nice cushy desk job that probably had good pay and benefits. I was sure I had nailed the interview. I’d opted to finish the holiday season with my current job, but I really, really wanted that new one. I’d just start once I was finished with my current one, and I had gathered the next starting date was early in the spring. It was for this reason that I wasn’t too concerned when the place I was currently working at got closed down. No problem. I’d just wait for my new job to start.

And so I was unemployed again. In winter, no less, so my depression was particularly monstrous now. For two months I sat in figurative and literal darkness, clinging onto two things: the expectation that I would hear back from the people I was hoping to hear from, and my love for Revue Starlight. I was absolutely miserable. But I held on. I held onto those two things. And finally, the date where I would be called in for an initiation drew near.

Unfortunately, it turned out I actually hadn’t gotten the job after all. I nearly fell apart completely.

I’m kind of convinced that if I hadn’t gotten into RevStar and renewed my need to hyperfixate on things I might’ve actually gone through with killing myself. The sheer despair I felt when I found out I had just spent so much time sitting around for nothing, that I had wasted a whole two months of my life, was crushing. In the heat of the moment, I really did think about it. I felt so utterly worthless and foolish, and if I took my own life I wouldn’t have to feel that way anymore. But I couldn’t. Because I did have a reason to keep living and to move on. I still had Revue Starlight.

Eventually I did manage to get a job, my current one. It’s not ideal, but the pay and hours are better than either of my previous ones, as is the nature of the job itself. The effects of my hormone replacement therapy, which I had only been on for about a month when everything had fallen apart, soon started to become more apparent. Now that I had a steady and regular source of income I decided to make plans to go out and see my girlfriend, who I figured it was about time I met in real life, which I eventually did, and she was wonderful. And those were just things that happened within my personal life. As for Revue Starlight? Shortly after I’d gotten the job, I managed to actually watch the stage plays, which I hadn’t seen yet, and they were amazing, especially the second one. Starira got an English release, pulling new blood into the fandom. Sato Hinata was slated to appear at Anime Central, which is the one con I actually bother to attend, and I got to meet her. For real. In person.

And if I’d gone and killed myself? I would never have gotten any of that. I would have missed out on so much. As much of a fool as I had felt like at the time, at least I didn’t do the single most foolish thing that I could have. And I’m glad. And thankful.

So thank you, to that one anon (you know who you are) for pointing me in the right direction. Thank you to the fellow fans who make up this community that I’ve settled down in. Thank you to the seiyuu in front of the mics, and the artists, animators, composers, writers, and coders behind them. I’m here right now because of you. Thank you.

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Deviled Eggs and Leftovers

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“For the last time, Finn, she said she doesn’t want to, so let’s go!  If I miss out on Mami Trooper’s deviled eggs I swear to God I won’t give you a moment’s peace all weekend!”

“But…” Finn started to protest, but Rey lay a hand on his arm before another argument could break out.

“Really, Finn, I’ll be fine.  I always appreciate your family including me in their holiday celebrations, but this year I just want to be alone. Besides, you need to spend some quality time with Poe instead of always worrying about me for a change. I’m a grown woman; I can look after myself.”

Finn looked crestfallen, and Rey had half a mind to throw him over her shoulders and carry him fireman-style to Poe’s car herself.  Luckily Poe rescued her by placing his hand gently yet firmly on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I think we should respect Rey’s decision, Finn.”

“Really Finn, I’ll be fine,” Rey insisted, picking up his duffel bag and handing it off to Poe.  Finn pouted, but finally allowed Poe to steer him to their apartment’s front door.

Every year, Finn’s grandmother, whom was affectionately known to everyone as Mami Trooper, prepared a Thanksgiving feast of unprecedented magnificence.  By the time all her family and guests started to arrive at her brownstone in Brooklyn, her table was already laden with all of her favorite holiday dishes from her childhood in Louisiana: Cajun-spiced turkey, cornbread dressing with andouille sausage and pecans, collard greens slow-cooked with ham hocks, crispy fried okra and oysters, candied yams, ham baked with brown sugar and pineapple, made-from-scratch macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pie and, most importantly, her legendary deviled eggs (the spunky old woman loved to proudly boast how she turned down Emeril Lagasse and Paula Dean both offered to by her recipe from her and she shot them both down after pretending to consider it for a week).  

What was even more impressive than the food itself was the sheer quantity of it, as Mami Trooper strongly believed that no one should eat alone on Thanksgiving.  Not only had Rey been a fixture in the Trooper family since the first Thanksgiving after she moved in with Finn, but his grandmother also opened up her home to the entire block, inviting every overworked single mother, young man trying to get back on his feet after coming out of a rough patch, and lonely senior citizens whose families were scattered around the country and no one could make the trip to New York that year.  Everyone who came always brought something of their own to contribute, and by the time dinner was in full swing Rey was amazed that the dining room floor didn’t simply collapse under the combined weight of the people and the food.

The next day, while the rest of the city was caught up in the throes of Black Friday, the Trooper family (complete with Rey in tow) would drive up to Finn’s uncle’s farm upstate for traditions and activities to ring in the start of the Christmas season.  Just a few weeks ago Rey had been adamantly looking forward to the Thanksgiving holidays: then everything with Kylo happened, and she worried that her sullenness would only drag everyone down. Making excuses to Finn, Poe and Rose was exhausting enough; she did not want to have to do the same with people she barely knew all weekend.

Poe’s Fiat was full to capacity, making it look like he and Finn were going on an extended vacation instead of a holiday weekend.  Even if Rey suddenly did change her mind she doubted there would even be any room for her. Mami Trooper ran a very tight ship during Thanksgiving and only allowed those she trusted the most into the kitchen while dinner was being made, but she had no objection to letting others take over the cooking duties afterward.  From the look of it, Poe was planning on taking full advantage of having farm fresh ingredients to play with all weekend.

As Poe tried to stuff Finn’s duffle bag into the last available slot of space in the car, Finn cursed and made a dash back to the apartment building, shouting that he forgot something over his shoulder.

“You owe me five bucks,” Rey said with a roguish grin when Poe joined her on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe grumbled, jerking his wallet out of his back pocket.  “I made him a checklist and everything. How is it possible for him to  still  forget something?”

Rey gave him a half-shrug.  “He’s your boyfriend. You own that mystery now.”

They waited for Finn to emerge in companionable silence for the next few minutes.  People trickled in and out of the other buildings on the street as they went about their own Thanksgiving festivities.  The peacefulness was momentarily broken by a chorus of cheers from an apartment somewhere over their heads, no doubt in response to one of the ongoing football games.  The breeze picked up gently, bringing the scent of someone’s cooking with it. Saliva exploded in Rey’s mouth; she was going to miss Mami Trooper’s food something fierce this year.

Finn reappeared a moment later, empty-handed and grinning sheepishly.  “Turns out I had my phone charger packed after all.”

Poe cocked an eyebrow at Rey.  “Does this mean I get my money back?”

“Nope.  The bet was he went back to the apartment to get something, not that he already packed it and forgot.”

“Hardy-har-har,” Finn said with a dramatic eye roll.  “Come on, let’s get going. The Saints play in an hour.”

“You’re a traitor to all native New Yorkers, Trooper,” Poe said as he moved to the Fiat’s driver’s side.

“Hey, my family’s roots run deep. I have to represent where I can.  Besides, you’re one to talk, Mr. Green Card,” Finn shot back.

“Guys, guys!” Rey interrupted them, laughing.  “If you don’t get on the road now I’ll call Mami myself and tell her to ban you from her deviled eggs all weekend!”

“You’re a stone cold bitch, Jakken.  Maybe that’s why you do so well in the business.”  Poe grinned, his eye sparkling with good humor as he at last ducked into the car.

“You only have yourself to blame for that one!” Rey shouted after him.

Finn climbed into the passenger seat, but before he shut the door he looked imploringly at Rey one last time.  “If you do change your mind, we’re only a phone call away. That’s for anytime this weekend.”

“But it’s a three hour drive to you uncle’s farm.  You’ll be wasting a whole day if you come back for me.”

Finn shrugged.  “Maybe. But you’re kind of worth it.”

Rey felt her heart swell with affection for her friend.  The backs of her eyes prickled hotly as she gave him one more long hug and thought, in spirit of the season, how thankful she was to have such wonderful friends.

I don’t deserve them,  Rey thought as she waved Finn and Poe off until the Fiat turned a corner and disappeared.  She knew she had been mopey and distant over the past few weeks, but instead of pushing the issue they respected her need for space and never attempted to coax the information from her.  Even when she told Finn she wouldn’t be going to Mami Trooper’s for Thanksgiving he didn’t so much as ask for a reason, even though he looked heartbroken when she broke the news to him.

It’s time to let go of this Iron Chef ordeal and everything tied to it, Rey vowed as she returned to their apartment.  Poe and Kylo Ren could claim that she had all the makings of being a great chef in her own right until the cows came home, but after everything that happened following the their now infamous episode Rey firmly decided that the celebrity chefs could go right ahead and keep their fame and glory for themselves.  She was perfectly happy where she was in her life and grateful for it. Very few people ever had the privilege to say the same thing.

A sudden epiphany hit Rey, like a soccer ball getting kicked into the side of her head.  She might not have felt up to a big family gathering this year, but that didn’t mean she had to confine herself staying home and feel sorry for herself all weekend.  A quick Google search provided Rey with the information she needed, and ten minutes later she was headed out of her apartment donned in a fleece coat, scarf and knitted beanie, making her way to the Bowery neighborhood in the crisp November morning.

When Rey arrived at the Bowery Mission homeless shelter her heart sank.  The building’s main dining hall was already packed with both people in need and volunteers; she hadn’t even thought about calling ahead to see if they even had any openings for additional help in her off the cuff decision to volunteer for the afternoon.  To her relief the smiling receptionist assured her that more help was always welcome. There was a waiting list to work in the kitchen and serve the meals, so until a spot opened for her Rey opted to spend some time with the shelter’s youngest patrons.

Rey was directed to another room off the main dining area, which was filled with about twenty toddlers and younger children being looked after by half a dozen or so volunteers while their parents had the opportunity to shower and rest.  Looking out at them, Rey felt her heart clench painfully in her chest, accompanied by a surge of guilt that squeezed the air from her lungs as her mind became awash with memories of spending much of her young childhood in similar places.  While unwelcome memories of Unkar Plutt still resurfaced from time to time, she hadn’t given any thought to her earliest years in the system since before she started working for Poe. The last time she had seen Kylo Ren she had railed on him about forgetting where he came from, but hadn’t done the same as well?

A tug on her hand brought Rey back to the here and now.  She looked down to see a small boy of about six or seven staring up at her with wide, limpid eyes.  Rey smiled at him. “Well, hello there, sweetie. What’s your name?”

The little boy didn’t answer her question, but instead proffered to her an extremely battered copy of  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone .  Rey understood immediately.

“Do you want me to read this to you?”

He nodded eagerly.

Rey walked over to one of the furthest corners of the room, away from the louder cartoons and video games, and settled on one end of a small futon sofa.  The little boy perched at the other end, like a cat that still didn’t fully trust her. Rey opened the book, mindful of the first few pages that wanted to come loose from their binding, and started to read.

“ Mr and Mrs Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were very proud of say that they were very normal, thank you very much…”

By the time the wizards all raised their glasses to toast The Boy Who Lived, the little boy had moved across the couch to snuggle into Rey’s side.  Another four children came over to listen to Harry talk to the boa constrictor, and when Harry’s Hogwarts letters started pelting out of the Dursley’s fireplace her audience swelled to ten.  She had to take a break when someone started pounding on the door of the shack on the rock out at sea, her throat dry and scratchy from reading for almost two hours. The children started to protest as she got up, but she promised to be back to tell who was on the other side of the door after she got herself some water.  When she reached the volunteer’s break room, one of the Bowery Mission staff members informed her that there was an opening in meal service, but Rey politely declined. She didn’t want to disappoint her audience.

“Um… Excuse me?”

A soft, timid voice made Rey stop in her tracks on the way back to the play area, a bottle of cold water in her hand.  Standing behind her was a full-figured teenager of about fifteen or so, wringing her hands together in a nervous gesture.  Rey smiled kindly at her. “Can I help you? Are you okay?”

“Oh… Yes, I’m okay… I was just wondering… I mean, I’m sure I’m completely wrong, but…” The girl clasped her hands so tightly together than her knuckles started to turn white.  Rey waited patiently until the girl visibly gathered her courage and blurted out almost faster than Rey could follow, “Were you just on an episode of  Iron Chef America ?”

The question caught Rey off guard, and she answered that yes, she was, without really thinking.  She kicked herself mentally for doing so - the whole point of this weekend was to try to get over Kylo Ren - but the girl suddenly lit up so brightly that Rey forgot her own grievance.

“Oh… Oh,  wow ,” the girl said breathlessly.  “I thought that maybe it was you because of how you hear your hair, but lots of girls started wearing their hair like that after that episode and…” She trailed off, looking deeply embarrassed.  “I’m sorry, I know I’m rambling and you’re busy. I just always loved Iron Chef America but the episode you were in was just so...so good .  I mean, Kylo Ren is always fun to watch and Chef Dameron is really hot, but you were my favorite part.”

Now it was Rey’s turn to blush.  While her coworkers and the other chefs of the Village complimented her fairly often on her work, she didn’t consider herself particularly exceptional.  True, she could imitate any dish down to the exact amount of salt used, but it wasn’t the same as coming up with the recipes on her own. Getting compliments from someone she didn’t know humbled her to the core.

“Thank you.  So much,” Rey said, her throat tight with emotion.  “Do you like to cook, too?”

“I do!” the girl said enthusiastically, only to deflate a bit immediately after.  “When I can, that is. A lot of the homes I stayed in don’t let the kids in the kitchen, so I don’t get to practice a lot.  I mostly only watch shows like  Top Chef, Chopped and Iron Chef.   I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as someone like you.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Rey said with a mischievous smile.  “The first time I tried cooking for myself I ended up exploding eggs all over my new roommate’s kitchen.  The whole front of the apartment smelled like a fart for a week.”

The girl tried to capture her laughter by clapping a hand over her mouth, but her giggles still managed to slip through her fingers.  Her reaction prompted Rey’s smile to widen even more.

“And I’ll tell you another secret.  I didn’t learn to cook until I was nineteen.  That wasn’t even three years ago.”

Now the girl was openly gaping at her, all signs of mirth wiped clean from her face.  “But… But what you did on Iron Chef was incredible… It was like art…”

“How about this?  How about you come with me and hear how Harry learns he’s a wizard, and afterwards we can talk about cooking.”

For a second Rey was worried that the girl was going to faint on the spot. Thankfully, she only ended up nodding. “My name is Lucy, by the way.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Lucy.  Now let’s go see a man about an owl, shall we?”

Two chapters and a trip to Diagon Alley later, Rey and Lucy sat at an unoccupied table near the back of the Bower Mission’s dining area with a mug of tea and a glass of soda, respectively.  Lucy peppered Rey with every imaginable question pertaining to cooking, jumping from what it’s like working in the kitchen of an upscale restaurant to how certain kinds of meals are prepared to what was it like being on TV (and is the Chairman like that all the time or is it just for the show?). Finally she calmed down enough to ask - at least in Rey’s opinion - the most crucial question of all.

“Where do I even begin?  Like, what is the first thing I need to know?”

It took Rey a few minutes to wrack her brains to remember the first lessons she had, way back when Poe gave his cooking seminar at NYU. Everything she did as his prep cook was now so ingrained into her that it was difficult to remember that there was a time when she could hardly tell the difference between one end of a knife and the other.  She ran through all the basics that not only aspiring chefs should know, but everyone as they came into adulthood. Lucy didn’t look particularly impressed when Rey told her the importance of learning how to properly prepare eggs and pasta and vegetables, but Rey quickly set the record straight.

“It’s all about the foundation,” she told Lucy, bobbing a tea bag into a fresh mug of hot water.  “DaVinci didn’t paint the Mona Lisa the first time he picked up a paintbrush any more than Beethoven composed the Fifth the first time he sat down at a piano.  If you don’t have a proper foundation lay down, anything you try to build on top of it will just collapse sooner or later.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lucy said.  “But how do I even start?”

“Like anything else that requires practice: at the beginning.  Offer to help your foster parents prepare meals, even if it’s as simple as something as cutting up vegetables or making side dishes.   Take a cooking class if you school offers it, or see if there are any programs for high school students you can enroll in. Start looking into culinary schools for after you graduate; there are a ton of them in New York, not just the CIA, and a lot of the city colleges have basic cooking courses you can take while you work on your general education courses.  And when you apply to work at a restaurant, don’t turn your nose up at the grunt work, like dish washing or the messier, more time-consuming prep work. It will prove to the head chef that you want to be there because it’s something you’re passionate about and not because of romanticized assumptions.”

Lucy nodded slowly, and Rey could tell by the set of her mouth that she was worrying the inside of her cheek.  Rey knew exactly what she was feeling, as clearly as if it was projected into her own mind: a fear and self-doubt born from living a life in the system, that no matter how well Lucy behaved or how hard she studied or worked, she would always be inadequate in the eyes of “normal” society; that being a foster child was a sigma that marked her for failure for life. The ghosts of Unkar Plutt’s hurtful words started to crawl into Rey’s own mind, a cruel taunting slur that dogged her throughout high school. Without thinking Rey’s hand shot forward to grasp Lucy’s. Lucy jumped at the unexpected contact, but she didn’t yank her hand away.

“Hey,” Rey said, looking Lucy straight in the eye.  “I was just like you when I was your age. I was in the system since I was five, and it was thirteen years of being bounced between homes of sub-par care, falling behind in school every time I got transferred and living with the certainty that it was never going to get better.  And it did, not only because I worked for it, but also because I got help. So I want you to do this: if you need to put down a reference for a college application or a work resume, you give them my name and the number to BB8. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“But you don’t even know me!” Lucy blurted out, looking very much like she wanted to cry.

“And Poe Dameron didn’t know me, but he took that leap of faith anyway.  And someday I’ll take that same leap for you. You just have to promise me one thing.”

It took Lucy a moment to calm down, wiping the tears off her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt to ask Rey what she wanted her to do.  Rey felt her heart go out to her. She wondered how long it was since the poor girl was given even the smallest sliver of encouragement by an adult.

“No matter where you end up, never forget where you came from.”

It wasn’t until later that Rey realized Poe Dameron’s cooking lessons were not the only ones she tapped into while she was talking to Lucy.

Rey might have missed out on Mami Trooper’s Thanksgiving feast, but that didn’t mean that she had to give up a traditional meal altogether.  And while she could just as easily make herself an upscale dinner of cranberry-glazed roast turkey and French aligot potatoes, she chose a much more non-hassle option.  She could not put her finger on an exact reason why, but there was something deeply satisfying about eating a sandwich made of pre-cooked turkey breast, instant mashed potatoes and stuffing, canned gravy and cranberry sauce on plain white bread.  She had picked up all the items on a whim on her way home from work on Tuesday, and now she was glad she did. Preparing Michelin quality food day in and day out made her appreciate the simpler, nostalgic foods and the comfort they brought. No matter how good their food was, that was something that chefs like Poe and Kylo could never replicate in their restaurants.

Rey paused, her sandwich halfway to her mouth.  Her last conversation with Kylo rose from the recesses of her mind she banished it to, but now she made no effort to stop it. She had told him that she would rather keep her sentimental memories than trade them for a lucrative career, but wasn’t she already kind of guilty of that?  When she came to New York she suddenly had the entire culinary world at her fingertips to explore. Before that she had no idea that so many different types of food existed; she could eat at a different restaurant every night and never go to the same place twice. Hell, there were still places in the Village she’d never been to. And yet there was nothing else she’d rather be eating at that time than her Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich.

A new idea materialized, which was quickly followed up by a plan.  She was still of the opinion that Kylo was a pretentious asshole and she doubted now that that would ever change, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were.

Maybe, like her, he just needed a reminder.

Rey finished her lunch, changed into warmer clothing (it was decidedly colder today) and set off for the nearest grocery outlet.

The store was virtually empty when she arrived.  The one cashier on duty gave her a smile just large enough to acknowledge her presence before returning to fiddling with their phone.

Rey moved up and down the aisles, tapping into her memories of when she was a college student living on a very limited income.  She grabbed pasta, ramen packages and rice that only cost a few dollars for several boxes and two jars of generic tomato sauce; Kraft macaroni and cheese and a few cans of soup; peanut butter, jelly and bread; half a gallon of mind and half a dozen of eggs; a couple of frozen dinners on sale for a dollar each; and finally a small package of ground beef that was marked down two dollars because it was going out of code tomorrow.  By the time Rey checked out she had spent just under thirty dollars and had enough food to make meals for the next two weeks, three if she really stretched it.

With her purchases made, Rey called for a Lyft car (she wasn’t even going to attempt the subways, even with the hub of Black Friday shopping on the other side of the city) and went straight to Walker Tower.

Roger was off-duty when Rey arrived, but the doorman who was there knew her well enough to not give her any issues as she walked in.  The Tower’s lobby was already adorned with beautiful Christmas decorations, but Rey did not give them so much as a second glance and she went to the elevators.  On the ride up to Kylo’s floor, she re-adjusted the note she prepared in the Lyft car so it sat in plain view on top of the bag. When she arrived at Kylo’s apartment, she dropped the bag outside his door, then immediately turned around and went back the way she came.

About twenty minutes later Kylo’s neighbor, fresh back from a refreshing jog, took notice of the lumpy plastic bag sitting outside his reclusive neighbor’s door.  Curiosity prompted the man to go over to investigate. He couldn’t see what was inside because a note that read “This is where I came from” lay over the top.

The man’s interest immediately vanished, his mind back on the shower he was looking forward to.  He didn’t know his neighbor other than what he heard from the other Tower’s residents, and that the unanimous decision was he was a grade-A jerk.

Rey was reading on Saturday morning when her phone  pinged with a new text message.  She was sure it was going to be another text from Finn telling her how much he missed her (complete with a crying emoji face) so her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was from a number she was sure she would never see again.  The whole apartment felt to tilt under the weight of the two words on her phone’s screen.

“I’m sorry.”

Rey stared at her screen for a full five minutes as she deliberated on the best way to respond, because she knew no matter what, it would send her down a road of no return.

Finally, she made up her mind.

“ Come over to dinner.  My roommate it out of town.  I’ll cook.”

She held her breath as she waiting for an answer.

Ping.

“I’ll bring the wine this time.”