#cassy is not feeling better. so to the animal hospital i go.

[orcelito]

Going to the vet today :')👍 bc I'm going to be out of town tomorrow & I don't want to leave this problem hanging w/o supervision

[summerlycoris]

Is it really a birthday party if you wake up in a hospital?

chapter 9- innatentive signs on the wall.

Current chapter- AO3 link

Chronological timeline- tumblr link

********

Mom: Good morning Cassie. How have you been going up there? Have you made any friends? 

Cassie: Yeah. I guess. I've met this girl, called Siobhan. We're not exactly friends yet, but we've been talking recently. How about you?

Mom: I've been doing well. I’m sending you these texts, to let you know I'll be up tomorrow. Remember that brace for your leg they talked about, at the hospital? I've managed to book you in, for it to be casted. 

Mom: I’ll also be up on the 9th, to see how you are going at rehab. I know you’re still disappointed about that ghost tour- so after your sessions, we can go out somewhere special, if you want?

Cassie: That’d be so cool! Thank you! Could we go to the zoo? There's some animals I'd like to see there.

Mom: Yes, I can take you to the zoo. If you're good at rehab. I'll be checking with Mrs Morrison so please behave, okay?

Cassie: Okay.

________

If Cassie could feel the plaster going onto her left leg, she was sure she'd hate it. Because she hated the feel of gross, sticky things.

The orthopedist had started a while ago, putting the bandage over the stockinette and wrapping it all the way up her leg. And now, it was getting soaked, so it could become a cast. She needed to keep it straight. With her ankle at a ninety- degree angle, which is really hard to do when that leg is the one that keeps wanting to spasm.

The only good thing was that her Mom was there, sitting beside her, and that she'd been told about this before she'd even gone up to Salt Lake City. 

She'd been approved for a leg brace back at the St George Children's hospital. It would help keep her stable, and help her walk on it. That's what the cast was for. She'd only need to stay still for a little bit longer…

"Once this dries, we'll cut it off you, okay?" Said the orthopedist. He must've seen the squeamish look on her face, even though Cassie had been trying to hide it. She nodded. Mom squeezed her hand. 

"Starbright, after we're done here, did you want to go visit Petr? He's still living up here, and I think it'd be good for you to see him." Mom asked.

Cassie wasn't sure. Petr- Uncle Miskovsky- was Gregory's dad. He was nice, but Cassie barely knew him. He'd been too sick to spend much time with her and Gregory.

She knew he'd want to ask about Gregory. Because he always did. He'd ask if Gregory had gotten back into contact with her, and her Mom, anytime they talked to him. And she didn't know if she could pretend that she still missed him, in the same way she had before everything. All her feelings about Gregory were… complicated now. 

She wasn't sure what to say, until Mom spoke up again. "I think you should come with me, to visit him. He's gone through some of the same things you have. He can give you some advice."

And that made sense. Kinda? Last time she'd seen him, he'd been using a wheelchair to get around. His legs couldn't stay steady underneath him anymore.

Though, his situation was different to hers... Cassie was hopefully going to get better. Or at least, not worse. But Uncle Miskovsky wasn't going to have that luck. She'd only really known him for four years, and had seen him get worse over time. 

But maybe those differences weren't a big deal? Because she'd learnt some stuff off Lawrence, and his situation was different to hers too. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

The orthopedist was drawing a line up her cast. So this is nearly over?

Mom stayed with her as the cast finished drying, and was cut away. It didn't take long. But it was difficult. Mostly because her foot did not want to stay at a ninety- degree angle long enough for it to dry. And her knee kept wanting to bend. It was uncomfortable at best. Painful at worst. The medication was helping- this could be worse. But that didn’t make this good.  

"Well, Cassie. We'll see about making this brace, and sending it to you in about a week." The orthopedist said to her, then turned to Marcela. "Do you want this sent to your house, or will she still be in Salt Lake City?"

"Her rehab would be great. That way, they can teach her how to use it." Mom said.

Cassie put her left moonboot back on, for now. 

_________

Over a year ago, Uncle Miskovsky had lived with Auntie and Gregory. Then Gregory went missing. Then Auntie did. Now, he lives up here in an assisted living center. 

She'd heard whispers between him and her Mom before he'd left. He could have stayed in Hurricane. Or even St George. But he didn't want to. 

‘Everywhere I look, I see them , Marcela. I can't take it. ’

It had taken them a while to get to the assisted living facility. Cassie wasn't used to transferring in and out of the car yet, and her Mom wasn't used to folding and unfolding the chair. 

Luckily, she was able to convince Mom to not push her. “Mom, I'm fine. Besides, the more practice I get, the better.”

When they checked the front desk, the receptionist told them he wasn't currently in his room, but pointed out that he liked to play Bingo today. She gave them some directions to follow, leading down a well lit maze of corridors. There were plenty of windows, and plenty of people walking through, that Cassie sometimes had to swerve to avoid. Everytime that happened, she could catch Mom giving her a weird look.

They got to the Bingo hall, and saw Uncle Miskovsky, through the open doorway separating them from the bingo round. Cassie could hear the host from inside, calling out numbers. After a few, it looked like some elderly lady got a bingo, because she jumped up and started waving her arm frantically. Cassie couldn't help but giggle. An old man, sitting next to Uncle Miskovsky, poked his shoulder, and pointed towards Cassie and Mom. He waved, and made moves to leave the bingo table. Until Mom waved him down ‘ It's okay, we'll wait for you.’ She mouthed. He seemed to understand, chatting with the man, not hearable over the loud calling of numbers.

He wasn't that much older than Cassie's Mom. Maybe ten years older, at most. But he looked like he was, with wrinkles and worry lines running through his face and his pale hands. He hadn't looked like that before Gregory went missing. Before his family had gone missing, Uncle Miskovsky had looked like an older version of Gregory. Same brown hair, but with light blue eyes. Now… He still did. But even older, and sicker. His hair had a lot more gray speckled through it than before. 

Cassie and Mom went to sit at a nearby set of lounge chairs, and a coffee table, waiting for the round to finish.

Once the round ended, he came out after the crowd dispersed, and over to them. "Ah, Marcela. You brought some good luck with you today! I won fifty dollars after seeing you and Cassie." His chair looked built up around him, and was drivable using a joystick, like what the arcade machines had.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that Petr. Have they been treating you well here?" Mom asked, getting up to give him a hug. 

"Things have been great. I've got company, and a roof over my head. What more could I ask for?" He said it with a smile. But Cassie caught an undercurrent of bitterness through that statement. Mom patted him on the shoulder, and went back to sit in her chair. 

He turned to Cassie, looking her over. And she braced herself for an awkward question like 'how'd you do that to yourself?' or 'are you going to get better?'

Or 'has Gregory got in touch with you yet?'

"Cassie, did you know your shoes are mismatched? Is this one of those youth fashion trends?" He said, barely holding in a laugh. 

She blinked in confusion. "Oh- no, this isn't a fashion trend… yet. But it could be- I'm a bit of a trendsetter." She joked. And then he really did laugh. It was a quiet laugh, but then Petr was a quiet man, even though he could be boisterous. He just didn't have enough air to speak loudly anymore. "But, uh. Yeah. I've still got a moon boot on- used to have two, but my right leg's better now. So I can have a regular shoe for that one."

She looked down at her shoe. It was a new red sneaker, that Mom must’ve brought her recently. It was a little big on her, and kind of plain. But pretty enough, with sparkles on the sides and black laces.

She wondered where her Roxy light ups had gone. Mom’s probably left them at home, in case I lose them. Or maybe she’s trying to get the light up function working again?

(They’d given up the ghost after Monty knocked her into the sewerage pipe.)

"That makes sense. I heard from your mother what happened to you." Please don't pity me- "did you have fun on your adventure?"

" Petr! Don't encourage her." Mom said, giving him a half-hearted slap on the hand. He gave her one back, and laughed. 

"Seriously though- I remember being a teenager. One time, I went with my friends to explore an abandoned school. It was an adventure I'll never forget. Some experiences are worth every consequence."

Mom rolled her eyes. "And what, pray tell, were the consequences of that ?"

He slumped down a little in his chair. "We got locked in by accident. Got stuck there for two days before someone heard us screaming and called for help. It was a really interesting… conversation with our mothers afterwards, let me tell you. But it was still worth it! Even if I can still feel the welts forty years on."

Cassie couldn't help but laugh at that. Then remembered- he'd asked her a question. "Um. I'm not sure if I'd call it fun. But it was… interesting? It was pretty scary- like going through a haunted house. Except the monsters were real-" She realized just as she said it, that she shouldn't have included that part. She hadn't told Mom about the animatronics chasing her down. 

" 'Monster s ?' Wasn't there just one person pretending to be Gregory?" Mom asked.

Cassie fidgeted with a loose bit of hair. "Well, yeah. There was only one person chasing me… but the animatronics were following me around. And they looked really scary. They were just trying to help, but I got scared and ran away from them." That was only kind of a lie. Compounding on another lie. Eventually it'll start charging interest. The animatronics were trying to help her- help her to avoid releasing the monster. They just had a very scary, potentially lethal, way of going about it.

Mom squished up her mouth, clearly suspicious. But she didn't say anything. 

"Well, Cassie-" Uncle Miskovsky started- "I'm just glad you got out of there okay."

" Okay?! Petr, she nearly died of sepsis . She's stuck in a wheelchair -" 

"She doesn't look stuck to me-" he said, looking over at Cassie. She couldn't help but slump down slightly in her seat, about as far as her brace would allow it. 

Mom clicked her tongue in frustration. "Well yes, but you know what I mean . Her life's going to be so different now… what will the other kids at her school think? She's already had issues about bullying in the past-"

She couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna go, um, get a drink. I'll see you both soon." She fought to keep the undercurrent of bitterness to just an undercurrent. Pushing herself backwards, and away from all of that .

"Cassie- I'll go with you-" Mom started, standing up from her chair.

"No- I'm a big girl, I know where the cafe is. Have fun catching up. I'll see you soon." She waved, with a plastered-on grin. Then she left, before anyone else could start up.

________

That was so. Freaking. Embarrassing .

She hadn't gone to the cafe. She had instead rolled around the common areas of the center. Seeing people, some walking around, some pushing themselves in a chair, or pushing a walker. Some who needed to be pushed. They looked at her. She looked at them. But, hopefully, not judgmentally. They looked at her because she was a stranger. She looked at them because they were strangers.

Cassie had her watch on. It'd only been a few minutes since she'd left. But if she took too long, Mom would ring her asking where she'd gone. 

She didn't want to go back just yet, though. Just to listen to them talking about her, like she wasn't even there. Like she couldn't hear Mom ragging her out. Acting as if her life was over-

All Cassie wanted was… she didn't really know. It was hard to put into words. No more pity? For her feelings on this to matter?

How did she feel about this?

…

I'm not dead. And I'm not stuck in bed anymore. This is the closest to freedom I've had in a while. I'd prefer to be okay. But this isn't so bad. It's just different?

She shook her head. She'd stopped in the middle of the room, and people were now looking at her not because she was a stranger, but because she was acting strange .

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, and decided that now would be a good time to get that drink. She'd cooled off a little, at least.

Hopefully, by the time I go back, she'll be done with that subject…

She had her purse with her- which had her pocket money, and her expired playpass in it. Not that that would be useful here- she just couldn't toss it away. 

Should I get a drink for Mom and Uncle Miskovsky? It'll make my leaving look less like a tantrum…

So she decided- she didn't know exactly what Uncle Miskovsky liked, but had seen him and Mom catching up for coffee in the past. So she'd just get two coffees for them. 

The cafe looked pretty sleek, and modern. Very few tables- presumably most things brought there would be taken out into the common areas, or back to residents rooms. 

The only issue with the cafe is one that Cassie was still getting used to- she wouldn't be tall enough to see over the counter properly anymore. She'd always been short- she got that from her Dad. And her Mom- but now she was even shorter than usual. And it didn't matter much at the rehab clinic- because most surfaces were lowered more for children- but it mattered here. 

She got into line, and waited for her turn. Deciding on what kind of drink she'd like, and sorting out her money. She could see the clerk taking orders and jotting them down while humming under her breath. Once Cassie got to the very end, she sat in front of the counter. She could only just see over the top of the counter. But everything was at a diagonal, due to the angle. Cassie couldn't even see the clerk.

And it looked like she couldn't see her either. "Sir, did you want to order?"

Cassie couldn't see the man behind her, but could hear him- "Sorry, young lady. But there's an even younger lady in front of me."

Cassie spoke up quickly, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. She waved her hand above her head. "Sorry- I'm here. Can you see me?"

Now she could see the clerk, as she leaned over the counter. "Oh dear! Sorry, we don't normally have kids here. What would you like, dear?"

"Could I get a hot chocolate, and two coffees please? One black, one with half milk?" She was pretty sure Uncle Miskovsky drank his with milk. 

The clerk agreed, Cassie paid- a surprising amount for three drinks, honestly. What a ripoff… and then waited off to the side for them to be made. 

She checked her phone. It'd only been maybe ten minutes since she left in a huff. And she'd be back soon, just needed to wait a little longer.

She texted Andy and Lawrence for a bit, before hearing her order called out. She went to grab them and realized a second issue- how was she going to carry them back? 

She hadnt had to worry too much at the center- she could carry one drink by alternating hands. But this was three drinks. And hot drinks too. Just holding one in each hand burnt. And her hands were pretty tough. Cassie was only wearing short-shorts today. No leggings- they would've gotten wrecked earlier. So she couldn't even put two between her legs. 

She winced just imagining how much trying to get these drinks back would hurt.

However, she got an idea for how to deal with this. Because she’d seen some of the other kids at Rehab do it to get around.

She just hoped it’d work for her. 

"Would you like a hand with those? It's a lot for one person to carry." The clerk asked, as she placed another order on the bench. 

"Do you have any trays I can put these in please?" Cassie asked. The clerk nodded, and came back with a little square tray. Just the kind made of cardboard, with slots for the drinks.

"Do you want me to get someone to carry it for you?" She asked, as Cassie added the drinks into the tray. She tested out how well she could keep its balance in one hand, before shaking her head.

"I think I'll be okay. I'll come back if I need any help. Thank you."

The clerk nodded, and went back to serving other customers. Meanwhile, Cassie started heading back. 

In theory, she could just kick out her footrests, and use her feet to scoot forward. In reality, doing that left her sitting awkwardly in the chair- and led to the tlso brace hurting her, reminding her she wasn’t supposed to slouch backwards like that. 

So that wasn’t an option. But there was another option. 

She’d seen other kids do it. Hold something in one hand, and push themselves with the other.

It wasn't easy. But that didn't bother Cassie much. Because there was a rhythm to it- push a little on one side, swap hands, then push on the other side. Rinse and repeat. It would take her a while, but she was slowly making her way back to where Mom and Uncle Miskovsky were.

Once she got back to them, the only issue was, the door that had previously been propped open separating the common spaces, was now shut. It was one of the doors that swings both ways when pressed. So she could force her way through. 

Maybe. 

Except she could hear faint talking. 

Mom and Uncle Miskovsky were on the other side of that door. Not far away from it. She could hear them talking-

"Do you think she really saw him, Marcela? If he's there, maybe he's trying to come home…"

"Maybe, Petr. But I didn't see Gregory at all. I think… I think Cassie was just very lonely, and still a little out of it. Prolonged sedation can lead to hallucinations afterwards. And her sedation was… very prolonged."

… They're still talking about me?! 

"... Are you okay? After all that, I mean."

Oh. This is one of those kinds of conversations. The really heavy kinds. 

Cassie felt weird listening in now.

A sob. A quiet noise followed. "No. No I'm really not - I've been so selfish. And I nearly lost her because of it."

Cassie wanted to ask why . Luckily, Uncle Miskovsky did. And Mom answered. "I thought I could handle it. 'Just a few years working at the Youth Crisis Center. Until my classes take off. Until the class action succeeds. Until Sam comes back. ' But he's not coming back, Petr. He's never coming back. He's-” that sentence ended in a loud sob, and didn't resume afterwards. “And the class action keeps being stalled by FazEnt- so we can’t even get any compensation for Sam’s death. My classes are doing okay- but not well enough. Never well enough-"

"Marcela-"

"I feel like I'm slowly drowning out at sea. And those classes are the lifering I'm clinging to. But I can't cling to it- I nearly let my daughter drown to save my own skin. Does… does that make sense?"

“It does - but you're being too harsh on yourself-”

“How can you say that?! If anything, I'm not being harsh enough- ”

“How can you say that?! There's no way you could've known something like this would've happened. How were you to know that someone would target Cassie like this?”

For a while, there was nothing said. And Cassie just sat there. Holding onto the tray with both hands. Feeling completely useless. 

But then Mom spoke up, in a whisper. Barely hearable through the door.

“I should have known, because someone targeted Sam. Someone targeted Jemima. Gregory. Someone has it in for us- someone has it in for you, too…”

Silence. 

And then Cassie knocked on the door.

“Hey, Mom? Could you let me in, please?”

She could hear a chair shifting against the tiled floor, and footsteps. Then the door opened towards Cassie- she had to quickly push herself out of the way.

And she could see Mom. With a smile plastered to her face. Pretending nothing had happened. Except Cassie could see the puffiness around her eyes. 

“I brought back some coffee- the one on the left is yours, and the one on the right is for Uncle Miskovsky. The one at the back is mine.” Cassie said, holding out the coffee tray. Mom grabbed the tray carefully out of her hands, and held the door open so that Cassie could come back in.

“Hey, Cassie. Thank you for the drink.” Uncle Miskovsky said, as she wheeled back to where he sat. Mom walked back in, behind her, and gave out the drinks. Passing the hot chocolate back to Cassie. 

It felt warm in her hands. Strange against the chill in her blood.

Mom spoke up first, once everyone had sat down. “Cassie, I'm sorry for worrying you earlier. The kids at school… you're going to be just fine . I'll make sure of it.” She leant forward in her chair, cupping her hands over Cassie's hands holding the drink. “And I’ve heard some great things about your progress at rehab- you'll be back on your feet before you know it!” She said this to Cassie, ostensibly. But she was looking towards Uncle Miskovsky out of the corner of her eye. 

He was also periodically flicking his eyes over to Mom, though he was pretending to be focused on Cassie. “Exactly- things will be back to normal before you know it.”

She could feel a weird tension between the both of them.

This is a huge game of charades. And I know what's behind everyones headband. 

Denial.

Three could play at that game.

“Yeah. I'm going to be fine.”

________

The next few days at the rehab center weren’t that different to her first week there. Physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Group therapy. School. 

But Cassie had been making progress. Shed gotten better at using the wheelchair, and at standing and walking in the gait trainer. Being able to take more of her own weight. Rebecca had even congratulated her on it-

“You've been putting in some great work, Cassie. If you keep this up, we may be able to get you using crutches at least part of the time, before you go home.”

She couldn't help but feel proud of that. Because she had been working really hard to get anywhere with this. And it now seemed to be paying off. 

Heck, she even made some progress with school. She still had some issues with math, but had bounced back a bit in english, art, and science. She’d recently got a B+ on a test about reading comprehension. She just had to show her Mom.

Most importantly, for Cassie, she'd gotten better at standing up by herself. She was able to stand, leaning against a nearby wall or table. Even if it still hurt to do that for too long. 

And she’d gotten permission to go out bowling on the weekend. 

‘It’s accessible, so you’ll be able to bowl with everyone. And it shouldn’t be too busy, so it won’t be dangerous for you to stand occasionally.’

Needless to say, Cassie felt like she was on cloud nine.

Especially because she was helping paint Annette’s nails, in a vibrant pink color. While Annette told her about some stuff she’d been seeing on the fazfans forum.

They’d been talking about just basic things, until Annette brought up something real.

“... The admins have been cracking down recently. On DM’s. Because of the… do you know what's been going on down in Hurricane?”

Cassie nodded. I know, all right.  

Annette continued. “From the pinned post, they're planning on just. Getting rid of that function altogether, and deleting any old DM’s. This sucks- I might not be a huge fan of the shows or games anymore. But I’ve made some good friends there. Some of them are all the way on the other side of the world… and I know Mom won’t let me give them my phone number. So once the DM’s are gone, It’s gonna be so much harder to talk to them.”

“That does suck.” Cassie said, finishing up painting the nails of one hand. She gestured for Annette to pass the other hand over, for their final coat. “Me and my Dad would sometimes send each other messages… if I was at home, and he was at work over school holidays. Or just whenever they made us use a computer at school- it was one of the only good sites not blocked by the school's IT guys.”

Those were fairly bittersweet memories. Of her and her Dad sending silly messages about Freddy’s characters, about rumors. Anything really…

“... And now they’re planning on getting rid of the messages?” Cassie sighed. “Mom banned me from going on the internet. And especially on the forum-” Annette didn’t interrupt to ask why , which Cassie appreciated. “-so I can’t even try to screenshot the messages when I get home.”

Annette gave her a funny look, and quickly looked around. Cassie was tempted to ask what was up, until Annette leaned in close- “You could use one of the computers here. To get onto the forum, I mean.”

Cassie tilted her head. “They have computers here? That we can use?”

“Yeah. They have them for the IT classes, if I remember right…”

Cassie's shoulders drooped, and she stopped painting Annette’s last finger. “one problem- I’m not in the IT class.” She didn’t have a login for the PC’s.

“I am.” Annette whispered. And Cassie’s hopes rose again. “I’ll lend you my login, if you don't do anything funny.”

“Of course I won't- thank you, Annette!” She resumed painting her nails, finishing it off, and leaving the hand to dry like the other. 

“No problem, no problem. Once my nails are dry, I’ll help you out, okay?” 

Cassie nodded, and capped Annette's nail polish bottle, putting it back in her little make up kit. 

________

It felt odd to be sitting in front of a computer again, once Annette had put in her password. She’d sat to the side, keeping an eye on things, while Cassie brought up the browser and went to the forum. 

Immediately, she was hit with a small sense of nostalgia. This site had been made back in the early 2000’s, or so her Dad had said. And it looked it- it hadn’t updated much at all, except to add the Glamrock’s to the site banner. 

She was sure, if she went far enough back in the archives, she could find some of her Dad’s post from when he was young.

Cassie went to put her username and password in, before turning to Annette. Who was watching her intently. “Um. Could you shut your eyes for a second?” She asked her. 

Annette’s eyes went wide with realization, and she laughed before looking away. “You know I have my own account, right? I don't need yours!” She joked. 

Cassie grinned, as she put in her password, and clicked to log in. The computer ran slowly, to load the sign in page. Must have bad internet here , Cassie thought, as the site took its time to load. 

It loaded, eventually. But not the sign in page.

Cassie’s hopes fell. And she sat there in shock.

“... Yikes, you must've messed up . The mods don’t just ban for nothing.” Annette said, looking back over Cassie’s shoulder. 

While Cassie wracked her brain, trying to figure out why . Could she have done something before her ‘accident’?

The last comment I left was about Roxy’s old attraction at the Hurricane Mega Pizzaplex, back when it was open. I didn’t swear, or do anything wrong, so why…

“I don't get it. I didn’t do anything!” She told Annette about her most recent comments- all unobjectionable. “And I haven't even been on the forum in about two months! This doesn't make sense…”

Cassie felt like her heart was breaking. She’d thought she stood a chance of getting those old messages. But she’d already lost that chance. Maybe she’d never had it to begin with.

Annette looked at her with pity in her eyes. Cassie wished she wouldn’t - “Maybe you could send them an email? It might’ve been a mistake.”

“Maybe…” Cassie murmured. She doubted she'd get a response back, but it seemed like the only thing she could do. 

She found the email address on the FAQ page. In case anyone was having technical difficulties. Copied it, then opened up her email. 

Her email account was completely full of unread emails. Most of them spam. She groaned internally, and thought I’ll deal with all that later- this is more important.  

So she put fingers to keyboard. And got started. 

“ Hello. 

“My account, RoxysBiggestFan11, was banned recently, and I don’t know why. I’ve been sick for a while- I was in hospital from the eleventh of August, and haven't been online. So I’m not sure what I could’ve done wrong. 

“Whatever I’ve done wrong, I’m happy to say sorry, or do whatever else is needed. I just want to see some old messages from my Dad. 

“Thank you for your help- Cassie.”

She’d taken her time writing this out, and hoped it sounded polite. And that they would want to help her at least get the messages back. 

All she could do was send the message, and hope. 

She logged out of her email, and gave the computer back to Annette. In case she wanted to use it. “I’m sorry this is happening to you, Cassie.” She said, as she logged out of the computer completely. 

Cassie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. So she changed the subject. 

“How are your nails going?”

********

Authors note-

Not much to say here- I'm trying to keep things medically accurate. If you spot something that's wrong- please tell me.

The title is from Ghost and Pals, Reckless Battery Burns.

[myriadimagines]

Hi Sam! congrats on 9k! It's cheesy but I feel like I've seen your blog grow up. Could I please have a ship drabble for Euphoria + prompt 60 & prompt 84? She/her pronouns. I have short dark brown hair dyed half silver & half rainbow, tan skin & dark brown eyes. I'm 5'2 & am a pan Hufflepuff/Slytherin INFP. I'm very reserved & seem a bit cold until I open up, then I'm more loud & outgoing. I'm clumsy & I love to make people laugh, I'm very flirty & so are my jokes. I adore kpop (1/2)

I just love music in general especially electronic and metal. 'm a horror & thriller writer who's in university for film making. I'm into anime and videogames. I love weird and exciting fashion. I have the signature short person temper but I'm overall a sweet person. I love kids and volunteer at a hospital play center. Also just because I adore you and I ship you with Rue. You both are hard working and I feel like your personalities would go together so well! Ily and thanks in advance (2/2)

Characters: Reader x Jules Vaughn

Warnings: —

Prompt: 60. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?” & 84. “I know it’s selfish, but I just want you to myself.”

Word Count: 498

A/N: i thought about shipping you with maddy but the more i thought about it the more i thought jules might fit better!!! anyway its not cheesy at all, i love the fact that you’ve seen my blog grow up :’) i love and adore and appreciate u and i hope you like your drabble!!! ALSO THANK U SM FOR THE SHIP i love rue 💖

NOT TAKING ANYMORE REQUESTS!

Jules twirls a piece of cotton candy around her finger, absentmindedly popping it into her mouth as she looks around her, scanning unfamiliar faces rush around the fair. She frowns ever so slightly, looking over her shoulder, before a grin lights up her face as she sees you walking towards her. She eagerly waves you over, and you laugh as you quickly jog towards her, and Jules throws an arm around you as she says, “Where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry, I ran into Maddy and Cassie.” you explain, reaching over to take some of Jules’ cotton candy before she can teasingly snatch it away. You snort, leaning into her as the two of you start walking over to the ferris wheel, which you promised to ride with her, before piping up, “They said the funniest thing to me, actually. They thought that we were dating.” 

“Wait, really?” Jules turns her face towards you, and you nod. “I saw Rue earlier with her sister, and she actually asked if we were together too.”

Your eyebrows furrow, unsure of how to process this. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

Jules shrugs, and the two of you continue to make your way towards the ferris wheel. Jules’ arm drops away from your shoulders as she digs into her pockets for the tickets, and the two of you board the ferris wheel, giggling as you slide into the car together. Jules lets out a small shriek as the wheel lurches into motion, and she grabs your hand as the two of you begin to ascend. You squeeze it reassuringly, not even thinking twice about the gesture, and Jules smiles.

“It doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world, does it?” Jules suddenly asks as the two of you near the top, and you tilt your head as she offers you a bashful smile. Nudging her shoulder up against yours, she leans towards you as she clarifies, “You know, us dating.”

Your breath hitches as you realise how close your face is to Jules, and Jules’ eyes widen as she seems to realise the same thing neither of you move or say anything, as if afraid to break the delicate tension in the air, before Jules finally blurts, “I... I know it’s selfish, but I just want you to myself sometimes.”

You struggle to find the words to respond, to tell her that you feel the same, that no one else in the entire world could make her feel the way you do. Instead, you lean forward, closing the distance between the two of you as you gently kiss her, and as you close your eyes, you swear you can taste cotton candy on her lips. You feel Jules’ lips stretch into a smile as she reaches her fingers up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and with everything beneath you, with you and Jules practically touching the sky, you quite literally feel on top of the world.

[ownworldresident]

We Are Our Own Heroes. Chapter Two: Bayside

Book: The Royal Romance, seven years post-TRR

Premise: Six years after a tragic loss, Liam and his adopted daughter meet Cassandra, an artist with her own troubled past, and the three find in each other the friend they never knew they needed.

Disclaimer: Setting and some characters belong to Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them and will return them when they feel better.

Themes: found family, (power of) friendship, healing

The Master Masterlist (link) ---  Our Own Heroes Masterlist (link)

Liam

Saturday rolled around again. Nothing could lift the heavy circles under Liam’s eyes or take away his yawns, and the coffee could only do so much. He took solace in the fact that he could crash hard later that day. Emily had a harder time against this team. He kept score in his head, crossing his fingers and sending encouraging smiles whenever she glanced his way. The final whistle blew as they started from the centre of the court. Emily looked around to find her coach, then converged with her teammates. A moment later they cheered at the score. The crowd filed out and Liam waited for Emily to take her time with her friends. He nodded to the few spectators who looked his way. Today’s game was a late one, and the court was almost bare except for a few chatting kids and waiting parents. He yawned again, and when he opened his eyes, Cassie stood beside him. He blinked, too tired to conceal his surprise. “Sorry,” she chuckled, “didn’t mean to startle you.” “No, that’s alright,” he replied, “long week.” “Here I thought being king would be easy.” Cassie folded her arms across her chest. Liam breathed a laugh, but that was all he could manage. Something had happened, in the last few weeks, to throw him off balance.

“Challenging. But rewarding.” “A standard answer.” She smiled, then sighed. Liam watched her torn expression morph into resolve. “She’s lucky to have you,” she continued, turning to Emily a moment. Liam did not follow her gaze, but watched Cassie instead. “Thank you,” he answered, wary of the direction of the conversation. "My sister was really ill years back, and I moved in to take care of her boys for a while. I was only 24 at the time. I knew nothing about children, and they were so small.” Cassie smiled, and Liam waited to see if she would continue. He was glad the courts were emptying, and there was no one within earshot. “She was living out in the country, and I’d come straight from university in Amsterdam. No one really thought I should be the one to look after them, it was hard, but it… was the right thing to do, I think. They are such dear boys.” She looked down, a little heat in her cheeks, and Liam frowned. “You knew what they needed.” He found himself saying. “Where they’d come from.” She nodded, lifting her head again. “Maybe someone knew better. But I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I’d failed my sister when she needed me most.” Liam took in her words, feeling the memory come to him again. He blinked, and remembered where he was. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked gently. Cassie turned to him, then away again, cheeks a little redder. “I’m not sure.” She sighed. “I suppose I wanted you to know. It’s hard when no one believes in you. When no one understands.” Her voice trailed as she finished, but a moment later strengthened again. “I haven’t coached Emily before, but I have seen you around. I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but if you ever need someone to talk to.” She lifted her shoulders, trying not to fold in on herself. “I’m here.” Liam pulled away from her, realising how unguarded he had been during the conversation. “Thank you,” was his final reply. What else could he say? Something more articulate if he was awake enough. Cassie nodded, then pulled something from her jacket pocket. As he suspected, the paper she handed him had her name and mobile number. “I’m not asking you to call me or anything,” she said with a more familiar cadence. “But if you need…” she smiled, “I’m here.” And with a nod, she walked away. Liam pocketed the note, and tried and failed to decipher whatever subtext he had missed. He didn't get much time to do so. A rush of colour preceded an impact against his side and he nearly stumbled. Emily wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him, grinning, eyes shining with exertion. “Movie?” she said, leaning her chin against his stomach. Liam could hardly watch her insistence without laughing. “That depends.” He raised his eyebrows, and Emily frowned. “On what?” Leaning down, Liam gently detached her from him, kissed the top of her head, and stepped back. “On whether you can beat me to the car!” He ran, but not to win. Odd looks followed from those around them, but Liam’s focus was on the small shape darting ahead.

Cassandra

The last of the kids departed, and Cassie continued to pack up. The work took her hands to complete but not her mind, and she whisked herself away to some place colourful. Somewhere she could go to create. With everything packed away, she hoisted the ball bag over her shoulder and carried it to her car. She reflected on her interactions with Liam and Emily. Had she been too abrupt with her offer? She’d only known him a few weeks and spoken to him twice, and he had seemed concerned. That was the reason she had offered it, she reminded herself. All she could do was hope that her manner wasn’t off-putting, if a friend was what he needed. And if he didn’t act on her offer, like her mother had always said, at least she had tried. Back in her studio apartment, Cassie tossed her keys in a bowl by the door and the sports bag on the ground. “Back to work,” she informed no one in particular. Peeling off her clothes, she threw them in the direction of her bed. Then she changed into old stained things, and twirled a charcoal pencil between her fingers. With soft music as a backdrop, several hours and a glass of wine passed before she admitted defeat. The line work on her canvas was approximately complete but nothing in her usual colour palette captured the feel of it. The much larger canvas nearby was as blank as the day she bought it. It taunted her lack of inspiration. There was plenty of time, she told it, and pointedly avoided the calendar on her wall ‘with exhibition’ circled two months from now. Around dusk, a miasma of sunset shades began to leak in through the window and touch her other pieces. Her stomach growled on cue as she registered the time. It occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten since midday yesterday. As good a reason as any, she reasoned, to take a break. She grabbed her jacket and keys and headed out again.

---

After dark on a Saturday, the boardwalk came to life. Cassie reclined in the corner of her favourite establishment, drink in one hand, pencil in the other. Always carry a sketchbook. And when she wasn’t in front of a canvas her hand flowed freely. The din of the bar was chatty and friendly. Two and a half walls were open to a balcony over the bay. People meandered in and out or stood or sat in groups, waving their hands in animated recounts of their life events. Warm lighting like this was perfect for sketching. Her knees were nearly against her chest at a booth in the corner and hid most of her work from prying eyes. An easy sketch sat nearby. Rolling her shoulders back, Cassie drew his outline. He hunched over the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, denim jacket concealing muscled arms and a t-shirt. He came most weekends, she noticed -detailing the perfect frown- but never seemed to be fully here. When she looked up again he was gone. “Having fun?” The low voice resonated from the same booth she sat at. Cassie hadn’t noticed his approach. She pulled her sketchbook against her chest as she turned to him. Too late, the regular had noticed his likeness. “What gave it away?” she asked, reaching for her cocktail. He shrugged. “You’ve hardly touched your drink.” He gestured to the almost full glass in her hand, ice almost melted. She grinned and took a sip. “Likewise.” She indicated his glass. He rarely took more than a shot at a time. “This isn’t meant to be rushed.” He gazed at his drink with reverence and she tried not to laugh. “Uhuh.” Cassie took another sip and looked back at her sketch as she put the glass down. “What do you think?” “Of your sketch?” He reclined. “You’re very talented.” “Not what I was going for, but thanks.” Cassie smirked, then turned her book so he could see the drawing better. “Did I get you right?” He shrugged, took another sip, then shook his head. “I don’t frown that much.” Cassie spilled her drink on the table as she laughed, which only made her laugh more. When finally she regained control, he was waiting. “Yes, you do.” The man turned away. His attempt at a severe frown fell short as the tiniest curve of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. She picked up her pencil again and started adding the new expression. “I’m Cassie,” she said into the silence, no longer able to leave his sketches unnamed. Leaning toward her book to focus on the detail of his lips, she waited for his response. Instead, when she looked up, he had turned to her fully, and intensely. “What?” “So you’re Cassie,” he said. She frowned this time. “What do you mean?” He blinked, glanced at his drink for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, sticking out his hand, “I’m Drake.”

What Happened Six Years Ago

Drake

Drake found Liam in the hall of the children’s hospital. The day was more than over, and the quiet was eerie. He lowered himself to the seat beside Liam, and they sat in silence for some indeterminate time, receiving awkward glances from the few hospital staff that passed. “Li—” Drake started, realising with a cough that he hadn’t spoken in several hours. He cleared his throat. “Liam, I think…” But there weren’t any adequate words to come after that. “We should figure out what to do next.” Liam didn’t respond. He stared wide-eyed at the ground, fingers laced around the back of his head and elbows braced on his knees. How far into his mind had he retreated? “We should think about—” “It doesn’t matter.” Drake's chest tightened at the heaviness in Liam’s voice. Like he couldn’t intonate. He paused, and searched for what to say next.   “You can’t sit in a hospital corridor all night. You need to decide what to do. There’s the… her…” Drake turned from his friend, trying not to imagine the view of the night before in that old, musty room. He wasn’t successful. “I can organise our trip back to Cordonia, and you can send people back to investigate, but you need to make the call about her…” he swallowed painfully past the lump in his throat. “Anna’s body.” The words came out hoarse. “Coming with us. Bastien is organising it.” New information to Drake, but he nodded. “And the kid.” “Emily.” Liam croaked, then sighed. The door closest to Liam’s other side was the girl’s room door. “She won’t be here much longer. We need to organise where to leave her.” “Leave her?” Liam looked up, finally, and Drake struggled to keep focus when confronted with the red, grief stricken eyes of his friend. “Once she leaves the hospital, we need to find a home for her.” Liam balked, leaning away from him, and the sudden movement was jarring. “Drake she’s coming with me. How could you even suggest …” Liam stood and looked down to him. “I made a promise.” “You said you’d take care of her.” “At my home, yes.” “Liam you can’t be…” Drake stood as well to be on a level. “She’s barely three years old. You don’t know anything about children.” Liam stared at him. “You still don’t get it.” Drake made a sweeping gesture but continued in an even voice. “Then help me get it. What do you owe her, after what she put you through?” “I promised—” Liam halted as his volume rose, then sighed again and lowered his voice. “I promised I would protect her. Handing her over to social care or their equivalent here, however fortunate she might be in finding a family who treats her as she deserves, is not enough.” Drake grit his teeth, struggling to find a way to bring reason to Liam’s emotional argument. He was no more prepared to raise a child than Drake was. “Three years old,” Drake repeated, hesitant. “She won’t remember what happened. Taking her away from here isn’t fair to her.” “And what if she does remember? Do you think you will ever for… forget…” Liam slumped back against the wall and down to his seat again. He raked his fingers through his hair and groaned, and when he looked up again he looked paler and more tired than Drake had ever seen him. “As I said,” Liam drew in a long breath. “I made a promise. I won’t leave her fate to chance.” No matter his grievance, Drake couldn’t force Liam to consider something he was set against. Maybe in a few days, when his thoughts cleared, he could convince Liam that finding Emily a family was better than taking her in himself. After all, there was no way he would be able to move on from Anna while raising a child who looked just like her.

------

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[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama & Prelude: After Story – Omake

Omake’s primary meaning is general and widespread. It is used as an anime and manga fandom term to mean extra or bonus.

Hi!

Because I wasn’t able to update the next chapter this week (stares directly at my other deadlines) – so I thought of updating you guys with something that is rather different instead! :D

Whenever I write, sometimes I would reach roadblocks, and ideas just wouldn’t come out. Usually by then, I would start to imagine things that most of the time are totally unrelated to the main story (haha).

Anyway! Long story short, these are the character profiles that I imagined when I designed them on my head (lol?)

Friendly reminder that this is a complete fiction!

P.S.: I imagined them during their Neo Zone era, so I wouldn’t talk that much about them physically? Also, you can search on Twitter on their actual perfumes, but I think these brands would suit them very well too (there are some that I took from that reference as well lol).

Read Interlude & Prelude

Jaehyun

Scent: Maison Margiela – Jazz Club, Jo Malone – Myrrh and Tonka

Cigarette brand: Marlboro Red

Carpool karaoke pick: (At first) Lauv – I Like Me Better, Cigarette After Sex, and such, but later he would play Spotify’s This Is Adele playlist

Cocktail pick: Ballatine’s Scotch Whiskey

Food delivery choices: Anything within reach (does not have any preference)

Kinks: This tickles him by a lot, but he likes it when you teased him by playing with his happy trail

Yuta

Scent: Diptyque – Tam Dao, Armani – Code Colonia

Cigarette brand: He used to smoke Camel, but changed to IQOS

Carpool karaoke pick: Depeche Mode, Post Malone, RADWIMPS, sometimes Arashi

Cocktail pick: Cassis Orange, beer

Food delivery choices: Fried chicken (let’s not make him obviously Japanese by making him ordering Ramen every time lol)

Kinks: He loves the sound of skin slapping each other, so expect a lot of spanking

Johnny

Scent: BYREDO – Mojave Ghost (for daily), LE LABO – Santal 33 (for the evening), Tom Ford – Fucking Fabulous (for the special occasions)

Cigarette brand: Dunhill Blonde Blend

Carpool karaoke pick: Daft Punk (for sure), Disclosure, and such

Cocktail pick: Negroni

Food delivery choices: Fast food, preferably burgers

Kinks: He’s sensitive behind his ears, and would go wild whenever you whisper directly to his ears

Doyoung

Scent: Le Labo – Another 13, Chanel – Bleu De Chanel

Cigarette brand: None

Carpool karaoke pick: Park Hyo Shin, Daniel Caesar, Celine Dion

Cocktail pick: Gin & Tonic

Food delivery choices: Jajjangmyeon

Kinks: He likes it when you explore his neck, and whenever you kiss his adam’s apple

Mark

Scent: Dior – Eau Savage

Cigarette brand: None

Carpool karaoke pick: 2Pac, Kendrick Lamar

Cocktail pick: He prefers dark beer, but would take soju anytime with his hyungs

Food delivery choices: Anything carbs

Kinks: He bites a lot

Taeyong

Scent: Penhaligon – Endymion

Cigarette brand: Raison

Carpool karaoke pick: Jhené Aiko, Kehlani, Justin Bieber

Cocktail pick: Jagerbomb, but he would be the one who suggested Tequila shots

Food delivery choices: Bubble tea

Kinks: He likes the feeling of your nail piercing onto his skin (lol did I just make him slightly masochist)

Haechan

Scent: Jean Paul Gaultier – Le Male

Cigarette brand: Lucky Strike Menthol

Carpool karaoke pick: Michael Jackson, Queen, Jason Mraz

Cocktail pick: Soju

Food delivery choices: Fast food, but he would join anyone who’s ordering any food

Kinks: He prefers the room to be bright so he can see you

Jungwoo

Scent: Roses – Chloe

Cigarette brand: None

Carpool karaoke pick: Frank Ocean, Dean, NCT (a-ha)

Cocktail pick: He would take a sip of anything tbh

Food delivery choices: Anything but he would often craves for kimbab

Kinks: Jungwoo you’re not allowed to have a kink

Taeil

Scent: Tom Ford – Noir Extreme

Cigarette brand: Camel Filter

Carpool karaoke pick: He owns a playlist called; “Wedding Day Songs”

Cocktail pick: Old Fashioned

Food delivery choices: Ramen (the legit ramen and not the instant ones)

Kinks: He breathes you in, a lot

Winwin

Scent: Aqcua Di Parma – Blu Mediterraneo Mandorlo Di Sicilia

Cigarette brand: Mevius One

Carpool karaoke pick: The 1975, Vampire Weekend

Cocktail pick: Ume Highball

Food delivery choices: Jokbal

Kinks: Surprisingly he’s into role play (he loves it when you call him by his code name)

Random Trivia

All Interlude chapters’ quotes are from Jaehyun��s parts on Neo Zone album

Same goes for Prelude, except for Make Your Day (since Yuta wasn’t a part of that song, I replaced it with Jaehyun’s)

You might or might not notice, but I also put Jaehyun’s part(s) on the actual chapter (either on the conversations or the narrations)

Yuta’s yakuza friend, Taka (mentioned briefly), is taken from MIYAVI’s real name (Takamasa Ishihara) – I borrowed his name because Yuta listened to MIYAVI alot (he also followed him on Instagram!)

The music that they listen to on the car ride during Pandora’s Box was Cigarette After Sex’s Apocalypse (because Jaehyun listens to Cigarettes After Sex before going to bed)

The music during the first car ride with Yuta was No Replacing You by Pink Sweat$ (it’s a part of Jaehyun’s playlist – which he revealed on one of his vlive)

The movie that Jaehyun and [Y/N] watched during the rainy day on White Night, The Notebook, is based on Jaehyun’s recommendation on NCT Night Night

I also mentioned this on Pandora’s Box, but the repeated quote between [Y/N] and Jaehyun, “What is the first twenty-four hours if we’re looking back at the past seventy years?” is highly inspired from Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud (And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70) –because Jaehyun is a fan of Ed.

Also, [Y/N] and Jaehyun met when they’re on their mid 20s. The average human lifespan is 79 years —hopefully our [Y/N] and Jaehyun would have a wonderful long life together. That phrase itself means that both of them are willing to spend the rest of their lives together. Though, I don’t know how that becomes their own love language, it just happened as I write the story haha

[Y/N]’s body gel inspiration is actually a body cleanser by Aesop, A Rose By Any Other Name

Jaehyun’s engagement ring pick was Étincelle de Cartier Ring by Cartier

Jaehyun and [Y/N]’s favorite Ghibli movie pick is Howl’s Moving Castle – Jaehyun mentioned on NCT Night Night that he watched Howl’s Moving Castle a lot when he was at school

After the wedding, dark crimson rose was spotted on Nakamoto’s residence. This symbolizes grief and sadness.

On Make Your Day, the flower language meaning for Buttercup is “Your charm dazzles me”. This is why Yuta knows ___ is attracted to her. If you didn’t notice, Yuta already know that she’s the florist during their first encounter at Nonstop. That is because Yuta remembers their first encounter, too

The tune that ___ listen to at the end of Make Your Day is Always With Me (Spirited Away theme song). I personally feel the scene (on my head) fits the song perfectly! If you want to give it a listen, I recommend the piano version

At the end, ___ gave Yuta anthurium, which means hospitality and happiness. Note how I never really specify their relationship status, since I want the readers to have their own interpretation on the continuation of their relationship

Yuta’s haircut was actually not planned, but it fits the transition since he did cut his hair haha

The hardest chapters to write was Pandora’s Box and Not Alone – purely because they’re mostly transition chapters

Out of all chapters, my personal favorite from Interlude would be White Night and Nonstop for Prelude.

In fact, Nonstop would be my favorite chapter. I think I was so immersed with Jaehyun and [Y/N]’s wedding so I kept including TONS of details hahaha (I hope you don’t mind lol)

[taiblogcomics]

The Love Boat

Hey there, distractions from current events. Haven't had a restock yet, so we'll be beginning the year with more New 52 Teen Titans terribleness. It'll be fine, I'm sure~

Here's the cover:

I said we were going to save it, but now that she's on the cover, I guess we can rant about this Raven redesign now. Surprise, I hate it! I get that she's starting as a villain now (which is another thing I hate), but the original Raven managed villain while still keeping her cloak and leotard look. I think it's supposed to be feathers covering her face, but I never understood why that was ...anything. I never understood anything about that. It looks silly and I don't know how she sees out of it. Like, she doesn't have to look like the '80s version or the animated design. I've seen good modernised Raven costumes. But this ain't it, chief.

And that's only one bit of the cover! Like, this isn't part of "Death of the Family", but it is sort of an aftermath issue. Hey, know what wasn't part of "Death of the Family" in the end? The "Death" part. Yeah, none of the major characters actually died. I'm pretty sure I've got a trade around here, maybe we can cover that little piece of edgelord dreck for an anniversary someday. Anything else about this cover? Well, I didn't even notice this shining guy at first. That's pretty bad when you have a guy glowing like the sun and yet you completely overlook him when you pull the comic from the shelf~

Speaking of the light guy, think this'll be related? We open with a kid named Kwon Yi, who can manifest balls of light from his body. Unlike a lot of people, Kwon really hates having a superpower, so he's come to a really shady-looking doctor to have it removed. If that sounds like bunk to you, congratulations! You've read a story before. The doctor straps him down and a bunch of sharp instruments begin digging into Kwon's back. He dies as the powers are drained out of him, and fed into an emaciated man who's cackling to himself how he'll soon use all these powers to "lead them out of darkness". Anyway, all of this is foreshadowing and has nothing to do with the rest of the issue~

We join our heroes in a limo together, recovering from the events of "Death of the Family". They're pretty forgiving of Tim Drake for everything that happened, but Tim himself is pretty bummed that he let it happen at all, since he's supposed to be the leader. Cassie is pretty disgusted by the touchy-feely display, but luckily for her, Kid Flash interrupts at this point. He's running alongside the limo, and he's noticed that the limo isn't going to their usual penthouse tower. In fact, it's pulled up at the docks along the Hudson River. Tim mentions that he's gotten them a new place to live, and if you think this is leading up to a reveal of a new Titans Tower for this continuity, well...

...Sorry to disappoint you, but what Tim reveals is a big cruise ship. Yes, really. This is their new headquarters, and while most of them are speechless, Bunker is pretty thrilled. Since it's a cruise ship, it has individual quarters, a pool, a rec room, and so on. It even has a war room that attaches to Tim's own quarters. I really don't understand how a boat is more secure than a tower, but I'm not a former sidekick of Batman's, I guess. The group then breaks to go to sleep, since they're kind of exhausted after all the ordeals of never following a story for a single issue or series.

Kid Flash and Bunker, who have opted to bunk together for security, retire to their room. Kid Flash is, of course, the twitchy sort who can't settle down, especially in a new place. He confesses to Bunker that he doesn't remember any of his life pre-Titans, and Bunker tells him not to worry about it. He gives Kid Flash some actually good advice about how you have to live in the moment, since you can't change the past and the future will come regardless. He mentions that he misses his mom and boyfriend back in Mexico, but he's glad to be here, now, doing what he's doing. This is dramatically undercut by the next scene, showing his mom visiting his boyfriend in the hospital, where he is unconscious and glowing.

Tim Drake, however, did not go to bed. He's a Batman sidekick, being up all night is in his blood. So is monologuing, but it's quickly revealed he's actually talking outloud because he knows Solstice is there watching him. She's come back to apologise again for that bit during The Culling, where Tim was building a case against NOWHERE and didn't help a bunch of kids until he had evidence they needed help. And despite this issue coming out five years before the film, I swear, he does the Spiderverse "Hey" move, and swoops in to kiss Solstice. She protests "what about Kid Flash?", and Tim's all "I don't see him around, do you?" And so they keep making out. Oh good, instead of manufactured "pissy at each other" tension, we get love triangle tension instead.

We get a brief scene of a white-haired kid at a coffee shop getting pissy at how long the customer ahead of him is taking with their extremely specific order, which, like, don't go to a coffee shop, then. He gets pissed enough that suddenly his brain flares in a negative filter and kills all the people in the shop. A policeman comes rushing in to see what the commotion is, and they find nothing but bodies. The mysterious brain guy has already left, drinking the complicated order that the customer in front of him was ordering, deciding it was worth all the detail after all. Wah-wah.

And if you think the teen drama bullshit is going to stop there, Tim retires back to his room after making out with Solstice, only for Cassie to come looking in for him. She's wearing one of his shirts as sleepwear. He allows it, mentioning that he's loosened up since the ordeal of being in "Death of the Family". Cassie mentions that she came in here to "thank" him for helping to deal with Diesel, and the two of them start making out as well. Contrary to what you might expect, just coz I like reading comics about teen superheroes doesn't mean I like teen drama and romance plots~

And it might be a bit more than makeouts, since while it showed Solstice and Tim in full during their kiss, it cuts to silhouette and a shot from the doorway as Cassie and Tim kiss on the bed. Implied intercourse ahoy! And if you think that's creepy, it cuts over to Raven sitting on a throne, swirling a goblet of probably blood, while she uses magic to listen in on Cassie and Tim doing it. Um, ew.

Some old granny ghoul calls her over, saying her father Trigon wants to meet by the blood river, and Raven departs. The last page of the comic closes the story with Tim by himself in the war room, listening to the police reports of the coffee shop massacre, while his eyes glow red, implying he's probably under Raven's control or something.

Ugh, is it too late to go back to the edgelord crossover dreck~?

Seriously, this issue is bad. For one thing, it’s trying to set up, like, five different future plotlines all at once, and thus doesn’t have a consistant tone. And for two... Well, do I really need to say it? The main plot of the story is skeevy as all hell, and really makes Tim come off as a creepo. A lot of bad comics I review on here just make me angry, but this one makes me feel unclean. The sooner this storyline is over, the better. Ugh...

[fic-ya-later]

Not Gonna Die: Chapter 1

Summary: Castiel is depressed, however he has to return to work even if he doesn’t want too. 

Warnings: Mentions of death and depression. 

A/N: Hey guys! I am so excited to post this here! If you like what you see send me a message; I’d love to hear your thoughts! My request and taglist are OPEN so let me know if you’d like to join it or like something written! I’m working on honing my writing process and style to work on an original piece I’ve had ideas for so if you are a fellow writer send me a message and we can chat about ideas and processes! I hope you enjoy this work!

Series Masterlist

Chapter One | Chapter Two 

Castiel couldn’t tell how many times he had played Clair de Lune, but it was more than the number of whiskey tumblers he had drained in the last two hours of playing. He couldn’t seem to find the end; cadence would lead to cadence and he’d find himself resolving back to the beginning of the piece each time. Each pass through the melody something was different, Castiel’s fingers hesitated on a note, or he dampered a run’s end to cause the chord to linger in his ears. No, Castiel did not like endings. In his small apartment the baby grand echoed with grace. The rain on the glass wall of his apartment created a soft backdrop for the otherwise barren expanse of the room. 

A pause in the music filled the air as Castiel reached for the fifth to refill his tumbler, only to find it, to his surprise, empty. What time was it? 11? 12? He couldn't tell any more. He set the bottle on the floor and looked up, running his hands down his face when he saw it. The only picture in the whole house sat on the small table in the corner. The soft hazel eyes smiled at him, and Castiel started another melody as tears swelled in his. This time the melancholy was more than a subtext to the music. He let his fingers linger on each note, the vibrations filling him as Gymnopedie No. 1 filled the room. He would’ve continued like this for hours just as he did the last night, and the night before last, and the one before that, but the vibrating of his phone across the room put an end to his thoughts. 

GABE CALLING

With a sigh Castiel silenced the phone. He didn’t need yet another worried sibling bothering him during his self-loathing sabbatical. Not that it mattered. Most of them didn’t care what he was doing, as long as he wasn’t tarnishing the family’s name. Novak. He cursed his father’s last name for the weight it carried. So many knew the Novak technology empire that when they found out Castiel was a part of the family there was a look people would give him which accompanied the customary “why didn’t you follow your dad’s footsteps”. Castiel hated that question. At first he tried explaining that humans are just so interesting, and he felt it was his mission to protect and save them. After he changed his last name people asked why he didn’t capitalise on the familial fortune; he grew tired of explaining that he had all he needed and then some. After he moved away from Boston they would ask what he was running from. Now he had no answer. The past? The future? His family? He didn’t know, but there was something about the beauty of Colorado that just drew him in. There is a real connection to the Earth here. Castiel knew it was where he needed to be the first time he flew out to interview for Boulder City General; if he hadn’t been welcomed to their surgical team, well, he would have flown out to this very house no matter what and become a hermit. 

GABE CALLING

Again his brother tried and failed to reach Castiel. The ringtone fell on deaf ears as Castiel was asleep on his sofa, completely dead to the world. 

Most of Castiel’s dreams held little power over him. There was the odd dream of his mother which gifted him with comfort and peace. The dreams of wings that left him feeling assured and powerful. Then there were the dreams of forests, forests filled with green which left him waking with the constant uneasy edge of something invisible being out of place. These were the only dreams he cared for; the rest of them he chalked them up to subconscious ramblings of an overworked surgeon. These were the dreams of before. Now mostly he dreamed of red and the whine of equipment. 

Blue eyes snapped open. Another of those dreams. With a groan Castiel rolled to his side. 4:12 flashed too brightly into his eyes. He blinked and refocused. May 12. With a sigh Castiel decided the best thing he could do would be to roll himself out of bed and clean up. He returned to work today and the scruff growing down his face and neck simply wouldn’t do. “What have I become?” Steam filled the room and doubt filled his head. “She was just a child.” “You did everything you could” “There had to be something you missed.” Thoughts spiralled through his head as he showered. 

Two weeks ago Castiel met a new patient. A girl of only 12 named Claire. One week ago she went into the OR for a routine valve transplant. One week ago Claire died as Castiel stood over her with his decades, it seemed like centuries actually, of knowledge failing him. The operation was supposed to be straightforward, Castiel had accomplished successful surgeries in far worse circumstances, but when she flatlined he was completely at a loss. Nothing in his past hurt worse that the look on her mother’s face as he walked solemnly into the waiting room. Castiel walked out of the hospital that day fully intending on never walking back in. A stranger was the one who convinced him to take a sabbatical rather than retire a whole career early. 

GABE CALLING

“Gabe.”

“Hello to you too Castiel.” The silence between the two stretched through the room. “You know what day it is today, right Cassy?” 

“Yes. The days don’t change each week Gabriel. I know when Monday is.”

“And we know what happens today. Right?”

“You don’t need to talk to me like I'm a child. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“You’re going to do amazing!”

“Will you bring me lunch?”

“Of course. The usual right?” Cas smiles and hums in response. “Thought so. Don’t stress too much Cassie, I’ll be right down stairs if you need anything.”

“You can do so much better than janitor Gabriel if you ju-”

“Don’t start with me. I’ll work on my life as soon as I can stop worrying about yours little brother. Now get dressed, give Chevy a kiss for me and get your perky ass to the hospital before I have to drag it there myself.” 

Gabe hung up before Cas could even retort by inquiring how his older brother knew the shape and lift of his rear, but he did leave a smile on the surgeon's face. As if on cue, knowing her being was mentioned, a meow cut through the empty apartment and the ashen coloured creature wrapped herself around Cas’s legs, her otherworldly eyes staring up at her human with mild disdain. Chevy was a rescue, Castiel took her in after she was dropped off at the clinic Gabe was working at at the time. They all assumed she was blind, her eyes wouldn’t open for weeks, and that she had been hit by a car. The gruff older man who dropped her off had said he would come back for her if she improved, a gift for a family member he said, but then he never came. So Chevy became Castiel’s. After weeks of nursing her wounds and staying up all night to ensure her health, she finally opened her eyes and looked at her new human with mild affection. Upon seeing her eyes Castiel knew she was meant for him, one stark, pure blue eye, and one warm, deep green eye had blinked at him and she decided that he’d do. 

“I see you little lady. Let’s get you some food before dad goes to work.” While Castiel was never fond of people in general, he had a soft spot for animals and especially for Chevy. She always was so intune with him, and he wanted the best for her. After her water was freshened and a delicate mix of chicken and cat food mix was placed in her dish up on the counter in the bathroom, Castiel continued to ready himself for work. He showered and shaved quickly, trying not to glance at the scars on his back or on his wrists before dressing in freshly pressed trousers and a white button up.

“You get a kiss from Uncle Gabe this morning.” He scratches the cat’s chin before looking in the mirror one last time, face solemn and firm. “You can do this.”

-------

The hospital was as busy as ever, it was like Castiel had never left, that is until director of surgery Zachariah Adler made himself known. The snivelling man was everything that Castiel considered himself not to be: slimy, greedy, an overall pushover if it meant keeping his image and status, and worst of all he had very little regard for others or the lives that fell into his care--just as long as his numbers look good at the end of the quarter. 

“Good to see you back Dr. Allen. I trust your week was...productive?” The director’s tone signalled to Castiel that he had to tread very carefully within the brief conversation.

“Yes Director, very productive. I spent much time focusing on updating my reading on surgical advancements made in the treatment of Abdominal Aortic Aneurysms. It proved quite provoking and has led me to belie…” 

“Yes, yes. Very good. I trust we won’t have any more issues then?”

“No sir.”

“Very good.” The director turned on his heel and left as swiftly as he came, and with not so much a nod in Castiel’s direction. 

“Good morning to you too.” Cas grumbled as he made his way to his office. Not much had changed, but there was a small layer of dust coating most surfaces he would have to wipe off on his lunch today. The tiny office was perfect for the surgeon’s needs. The north and east walls were adorned with meticulously organised and cared for bookshelves. The south wall held a bulletin board next to the door, and the west wall was nothing but glass. That overlooked Boulder City and the mountain range beyond. His desk was always kept neat, the only clutter taking the form of an organiser for his active case files and his in/out box, which had far more in it that he would’ve liked at this point, but that is the life of a surgeon. 

Just as he’d settled in there was a tap on the door.

“Come in.” Cas absentmindedly called out as he remained buried in a case file that required some attention. 

“Dr. Allen?”

“Mhhh.”

“Doctor Bradbury needs you for a consultation.” The voice was firm but cautious.

“Is it urgent or shall I schedule her in?” Castiel still had yet to look up from his case file, consultations were often needed when a surgery or procedure could potentially have adverse effects on a patient beyond the single issue.

“She already has requested you for a 10 am. If that’s amenable of course.”

“Mhhhm. That will do, please tell her I will be in my office Dr….” Blue eyes meet deep green.

“Nurse. Uh, Winchester.” 

“Yes, thank you Winchester. Have you worked for Dr. Bradbury long?” The tanned face was not among the carefully catalogued members of staff within Castiel’s brain. 

“First day. I will let her know you’re available. Thank you Dr. Allen.” As quickly as he came he was gone and Cas was left staring blankly at the empty doorway, wondering why those eyes captivated him so. There was a faint smell of leather lingering throughout the room that continued to mildly distract him for the remainder of his boring morning of answering emails and setting up appointments for referred clients. Just before he had his meeting with Dr. Bradbury, he was tempted to look up the new nurse in the directory, but stopped himself out of habit. New people often intrigued him, and he knew he could come on quite strong to the ‘uninitiated’ as Gabe called it. Perhaps he would be able to run into him at some point, it would seem those green eyes captivated Cas in a way he was unfamiliar with.

Another knock on the door. This one he was expecting, so he rose and greeted his friend and colleague warmly. 

“Cas!” Once the door was shut OBGYN and friend Charlie Bradbury has her arms wrapped snuggly around Cas’s shoulders, he could feel the grin through his lab coat.

“Hello Charlie, it’s good to see you.”

“You too! How are you doing? You cant just ignore me like this; I didn’t know where you were for a whole week! You even missed theme night at the Roadhouse!” The bubbling redhead would go on forever if he let her.

“Charlie.” She quiets. “I’m okay, and yes I will be going to the Roadhouse tonight, and yes I know it’s cowboy night” --- “and girl” --- “Cowperson night. And I wasn't ignoring you, I was taking a brief leave of absence to deal with personal matters. If you wish, we can arrange lunch this week and I can fill you in.” She eagerly nods. “What did you need to see me for?”

“There's the Dr. Castiel Novak I know.” The resulting glare from the blue eyes makes her shiver. “Sorry Castiel. It's a habit. I’ve known you too long.”

“I know, please just be careful. I do not wish for certain members of faculty to know my upbringing or history. I've been passing as human for this long; I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Of course,” She nods sympathetically. While most people were open and accepting to the supernatural since the fall of heaven and closing of hell, many people were still quite superstitious and prejudiced against any nonhumans. “Well, to business. I've got a case that's really troubling me. It’s quite delicate, as the case is slightly personal to one of my staff members. I have a patient. Jessica Moore. She just came in for her routine prenatal and I discovered a heart murmur. I think we might have a tricuspid atresia. To make matters worse Ms Moore is having a difficult pregnancy to say the least. Her attachment is weak and she’s beginning to show signs of preeclampsia.” 

“That is quite a combination.”

“Yes it seems that childbearing does not become her. She's the girlfriend of the brother of one of my nurses. I was hoping I could get you in for her next scan, she's due to have another ultrasound at 26 weeks. I’m worried we are going to end up having to either induce her or order a cesarean to maintain both of their healths.” Charlie’s face contorted with sadness at that. Castiel always admired the care she had for her patients. 

“When would this be?” He opened his diary.

“Two weeks, Monday.”

“Yes I can be there. Have someone drop by the details later in the week so I can ensure I am up to date on the case.”

“I’ll have Dean drop them off to you tomorrow them.” 

“Dean... that’s not a name you’ve used before.”

Charlie smiled at Cas cheekily. “Nothing gets by you Cas. Dean is a new midwife in my department. Came to me straight from the military believe it or not. He’s well over qualified for working with me, but I’m not complaining that I have the most capable, attractive, nerdiest midwife in the west at my fingertips.” She flashed a grin.

“How do those last two make him an effective nurse?” 

“They don’t but I wanted to see your reaction. You met him this morning right?”

“Ah so that was the mystery nurse.”

“Yes. Now you can’t go scaring him away. He's already been invited to join the Roadhouse gang. Garth asked him this morning. The two are becoming rather fast friends I’d like to think. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes Charlie, I’ll be there with spurs on.”

“Kinky…” She winks as she leaves the room, and leaves Castiel to his thoughts.

As the day drug on, Castiel became so busy he barely noticed when his lunch hour came up. Jumping out of his chair he swapped his lab coat for a cardigan and went to meet his brother for the lunch he was promised.

[rllibrary]

Blonde / Joyce Carol Oates / 2000

Above: the British paperback cover (If you want a copy of this version, search ISBN 9781841153728)

Quotes (As always, for educational/entertainment purposes only! Full disclaimer at rllibrary.tumblr.com )

*

"Look, sweetie. You're making too much of it. You've seen a boy's- a man's- thing, haven't you?"

Elsie was so crude and blunt, Norma Jeane laughed, startled.

She nodded, just barely.

"Well, you know- it gets bigger. You know that."

Again, just barely, Norma Jeane nodded.

"It has to do with them looking at you. It makes them want to- you know- 'make love.'"

(130)

*

Monroe was a natural even as a girl. She had brains but operated from instinct. I believe she could see herself through the camera eye. It was more powerfully, more totally sexual to her than any human connection...Her problem wasn't she was a dumb blonde, it was she wasn't a blonde and she wasn't dumb.

(232)

*

And the director is thinking, This girl is the first actress of the twenty or more he's auditioned for the role (including the black-haired actress he's probably going to cast) who has caught on to the significance of the scene's opening, the first who seems to have given the role any intelligent thought and who has actually read the entire script (or so she claims) and formed some sort of judgment on it. The girl opens her eyes, sits up slowly and blinking, wide-eyed, and says in a whisper, "Oh, I- must have been asleep." Is she acting, or has she actually been asleep? Everyone's uncomfortable. There is something strange here.

(242)

*

She was fascinating to watch. Like a mental patient, maybe. Not acting. No technique. She'd put herself to sleep and out would come this other personality that was her yet also not-her.

People like that, you can see why they're drawn to acting. Because the actor, in her role, always knows who she is. All losses are restored.

(243)

*

Where at her audition Norma Jeane had spoken Angela's lines with seeming spontaneity, naively lying on the floor, now on her feet she was paralyzed with fear at the enormity of the risk before her. What if you fail. If you fail. You will fail. Then you must die. If fired from the film she would be obliged to destroy herself, yet she was deeply in love with Cass Chaplin and hoped one day to have his child- "How can I leave him?" And there was her obligation to Gladys in the hospital at Norwalk. "How can I leave her? Mother has no one but me."

(253)

*

"Norma, for Christ's sake. Your director will lead you step by step through your scenes, that's what movies are. Not real acting, like the theater; not where you're on your own. Why work so hard? Turn yourself inside out? You're sweating like a horse. Why does this matter so much?"

The question hovered between them. Why does it matter so much? So much!

Knowing it was absurd, what she could not explain to her lover- Because I don't want to die, I'm in terror of dying. I can't leave you. Because to fail in her acting career was to fail at the life she'd chosen to justify her wrongful birth. And even in her mildly deranged state she understood the illogic of such a statement.

(254)

*

You just can't take your eyes off her. Cass and me, we'd see Niagara a dozen times.... It's because Rose is us. In our souls. She's cruel in ways we are. She's without any morality, like an infant. She's always looking at herself in the mirror just like we'd look if we looked like her. She's stroking herself, she's in love with herself. Like all of us! But it's supposed to be bad... 

(347)

*

It was like only the camera knew how to make love to her the way she needed, and we were voyeurs just hypnotized watching.

(347)

*

About midway in the movie, when Rose is mocking and laughing at her husband for not being able to get it up, Cassie says to me, "This isn't Norma. This is not our little Fishie." And the hell of it was, it wasn't. This Rose was a total stranger. This was nobody we'd laid eyes on before. Out here, people thought "Marilyn Monroe" was just playing herself. Every movie she made, no matter that it was different from the others, they'd find a way to dismiss it- "That broad can't act. She's just playing herself." But she was a born actress. She was a genius, if you believe in genius. Because Norma didn't have a clue who she was, and she had to fill this emptiness in her. Every time she went out, she had to invent her soul. Other people, we're just as empty; maybe in fact everybody's soul is empty, but Norma was the one to know it.

That was Norma Jeane Baker when we knew her. When we were "the Gemini." Before she betrayed us- or maybe we betrayed her. A long time ago, when we were young.

(347-8)

*

So strange! The audience adored Lorelei Lee. They liked Dorothy, too- Jane Russell was wonderfully warm, attractive, sympathetic, and funny- but clearly the audience preferred Lorelei Lee. Why? Such rapt, smiling faces. Marilyn Monroe was a winner, and everyone loves a winner.

Oh the irony was, surely these people all knew: Marilyn didn't exist.

I can't fail. If I fail I must die. This had been Marilyn's secret no one knew.

(429)

*

I was terrified. I wasn't ready. I'd been up most of the night. I kept having to pee! I wasn't taking any drugs, only just aspirin. And an antihistamine tablet Mr. Pearlman's assistant gave me, for a sore throat. I believed the Playwright would take one look at me and speak to Mr. Pearlman and that was it, I'd be out of the cast. Because I never deserved to be there, and I knew it. I seemed to know this beforehand. I seemed to see myself going down those stairs. I held the script, and I tried to read the lines I'd marked in red, and it was like I'd never seen them before. My only clear thought was: If I fail now, it's winter here, freezing. It wouldn't be hard to die, would it?

(497)

*

Pearlman spoke of the Theater as you'd speak of God. Or more than God, for theater was something in which you participated and lived. "Die for it! For your talent! Scour out your guts! Be hard on yourself, you can take it. It's life and death up there on the stage, my friends. And if not life and death, it's nothing." It was what I revered in him. Oh, he could reach right in....

But he exploited you, didn't he? As a woman.

A woman? What do I care about myself as a woman? I never did....I came to New York to learn to act.

Why do you give Pearlman so much credit? I hate it, in interviews, you exaggerate his role in your life. He eats it up, it's great publicity for him.

Oh, but it's true...isn't it?

You just want to deflect attention from yourself. It's what women do. Defer to bullies. You knew how to act, darling, when you came here.

I did? No.

Certainly you did. I hate this, too, the way you misinterpret yourself.

I do? Gee....

You were a damned good actress when you came to New York. He didn't create you.

You created me.

Nobody created you, you were always yourself.

Well, I guess I knew...something. When I did movies. In fact I was reading Stanislavski. And the diary of, of...Nijinski. 

Nijinski.

Nijinski. But I didn't know what I knew. In practice. It was just...what happened when I had to perform. To improvise. Like striking a match....

The hell with that. You were a natural actress from the start.

Oh, hey! Why're you mad, Daddy? I don't get this.

I'm only just saying, darling, you were born with the gift. You have a kind of genius. You don't need theory. Forget Stanislavski! Nijinski! And him.

I never think of him.

Him messing with you...your mind, your talent...like somebody's big thumbs gripping a butterfly, smearing and breaking the wings.

Hey, I'm no butterfly. Feel my muscle? My leg here. I'm a dancer.

Bullshit theory is for somebody like him: can't act, can't write.

Kiss-kiss, Daddy? C'mon.

(503-4)

*

What kind of questions did he ask you?

My...motivation.

Which was?

To...not die.

What?

To not die. To keep on....

I hate it when you talk like that. It tears my heart.

Oh, I won't! I'm sorry.

(505)

*

Pearlman was always saying how surprised he was by you. What you're really like.

But...what'd that be? What I'm really like?

Just yourself.

But that isn't enough, is it?

Of course it is.

No. It never is.

What do you mean?

You're a writer, because being just yourself isn't enough. I need to be an actress, because being just myself isn't enough. Hey, you won't ever tell people, will you?

I would never speak of you, darling. It would be like flaying my own skin.

You would never write about me, either...would you, Daddy?

Of course not!

(505-6)

*

Why don't I remember things better, my mind gets stuck on a role I'm doing, and I...it's like I'm in two places at once? With other people but not...with them. Why I love to act. Even when I'm alone I'm not.

Your gift is so natural, you don't "act." You require no technique. Yes, it's like a match being struck. A sudden flaring flame....

But I like to read, Daddy! I got good grades in school. I like to...think. It's like talking with somebody. In Hollywood, on the set, I'd have to hide my book if I was reading....People thought I was strange.

Your mind can get muddled. You're easily influenced.

Only by people I trust.

(507)

*

It would astonish the Playwright when he came to know the Blond Actress better how, when she didn't wish to be recognized, she rarely was, for "Marilyn Monroe" was but one of her roles and not the one that most engaged her.

(513)

*

"I was thinking, what Chekhov does with Natasha, he surprises you because Natasha turns out so strong and devious. And cruel. And Magda, you know- well, Magda is always so good. She wouldn't be, in real life? I mean, all the time? I mean"- the Playwright could see the Blond Actress shifting into a scene, face animated, eyes narrowed- "if it was me, a cleaning girl- and I used to do work like that, laundry, dishes, scrubbing toilets, when I was in an orphanage and a foster home in Los Angeles- I'd be hurt, I'd be angry, how life was so different for different people. But your Magda...she never changes much. She's good."

"Yes. Magda is good. Was good. The original. It wouldn't have occurred to her to be angry." Was this true? The Playwright spoke curtly, but he had to wonder.

(513-4)

*

There was the Norma who spoke to him and there was the Norma at a short distance from him. The one an object of emotion, the other an object of aesthetic admiration. Which of course is a type of emotion, no less intense.

(586)

*

The Playwright had noticed, as Max Pearlman had pointed out, how women often took warmly to Norma, quite in reverse of expectations. You would anticipate jealousy, envy, dislike; instead, women felt a curious kinship with Norma, or "Marilyn"; could it be, women looked at her and somehow saw themselves? A man might smile at such a misapprehension. A delusion, or a confusion. But what can a man know? If anyone resisted Norma, it was likely to be a certain kind of man; one sexually attracted to her, yet wise enough to know she would rebuff him. What strategies of irony bred out of threatened male pride, the Playwright well knew.

(591)

*

"He doesn't love me. It's some blonde thing in his head he loves. Not me."

(600)

*

"Darling, maybe you should stop feeding those cats," the Playwright suggested.

"Oh, I will! Soon."

"More and more of them will be showing up. You can't feed the entire Maine coast."

"Daddy, I know. You're right."

Yet she continued, through the summer, as he'd known she would. How many scrawny, starving cats showed up each morning to be fed by her, he didn't want to know. Her strange stubbornness. Her powerful will. The man knew himself obliterated by her, in essential things. Only in surface matters was he triumphant.

(605)

*

She knew she did not deserve life as others deserve life & though she had tried, she had failed to justify her life; yet she must continue to try, for her heart was hopeful, she meant to be good!

(625)

*

Monroe wanted to be an artist. She was one of the few I'd ever met who took all that crap seriously. That's what killed her, not the other. She wanted to be acknowledged as a great actress and yet she wanted to be loved like a child and obviously you can't have both.You have to choose which you want the most.Me, I chose neither.

(638)

*

The fairy tale. The Blond Actress would herself come to believe in this fairy tale a man had written for her as a love offering. She would come to believe not just that luminous Roslyn could save the small herd of wild mustangs but that wild mustangs might be saved. These horses, only six remaining of how many hundreds and one of them a foal. A foal galloping anxiously beside its mother. Lassoed and roped by the desperate men, yet they might be saved from death. From the butcher's knife and being ground into dog food. Here is no romance of the West or even of manly ideals and courage but a melancholy "realism" to thrust into an American audience's faces! Roslyn alone would run into the desert in an action blocked out with care by the Blond Actress and her director that would allow her to express, at the top of her lungs, her fury at manly cruelty. (But I don't want close-ups. Not of me screaming.") She would scream at the men Liars! Killers! Why don't you kill yourselves!  She would scream in the emptiness of the Nevada desert until her throat was raw. Until the interior of her sore-pocked mouth throbbed with pain. Until more capillaries burst in her straining eyes. Until her heart pounded close to bursting. I hate you! Why don't you die! She may have been screaming at those men of her life whose faces she retained or she may have been screaming at those men lacking faces, constituting the vast world beyond the perimeters of the crimson velvet backdrop and the blinding-bright photographer's lights. She may have been screaming at H who had eluded her charm. She may have been screaming into a mirror. She'd told Doc Fell she would not need any medication that morning (after even the stupor of the phenobarbital night) and aroused now to pity, horror, rage by the spectacle of the trapped horses she had not needed any drug. She believed she would never again need any drugs. What power! What joy! She would return to Hollywood alone, and she would buy a house, her first house, and she would live alone, and she would do only work she wanted to do; she would be the great actress she had a chance of becoming; she would no longer be trapped by men; she would no longer be cheated of her truest self. The Blond Actress was expressing anger, rage. At last. Except (all observers would claim) it wasn't the simulated expression of anger and rage but genuine passion ripping through the woman's body like an electric current.

"Liars! Killers! I hate you."

(668-9)

*

"You feel genuine emotion, Miss Monroe! That's why you're a brilliant actress. That's why people see in you a magnified image of themselves. Of course they're deluded, but happiness dwells in delusion! Because you live in your soul like a candle that lives in its own burning. You live in our American soul. Don't smile, Miss Monroe. I'm serious, too. I'm saying that you're an intelligent woman, not just a woman of 'feeling'; you're an artist, and like all artists you know that life is just material for your art. Life is what fades, art is what remains. Your emotions, your anguish over your divorce or Mr. Gable's death, whatever-" with an airy impatient gesture taking in all of the world she'd inhabited in thirty-five years or even envisioned: the very memory of the Holocaust evoked out of much-thumbed secondhand books rescued from a used-book store, vessels of Jewish fortitude and suffering, the stale-rancid odors of the California madhouses of her mother's captivity, all the memories of her personal life, as if they were of no more significance to her than a screenplay- "you may as well see your trauma as a newsreel, because others will."

(679)

*

This doctor says there are miracle drugs now

to control the "blues." I said, oh if the

blues go, what about blues music? He asked

is the music worth the agony & I said that

depends upon the music & he said life is more

precious to retain than music, if a person is

depressed her life is endangered & I said

there must be a middle way & I would find that

way.

(683)

*

Mother? What did you want from me I could never give you? How did I fail? I tried so hard. She wondered if, if she'd played piano better for Mr. Pearce and sung better for poor Jess Flynn, her childhood would have turned out differently? Maybe her miserable lack of talent had contributed to Gladys Mortinsen's madness. Maybe something in Gladys had simply snapped.

Still, Gladys had seemed to absolve her of blame. Nobody's fault being born, is it?

(695)

*

Hey I love to act. Truly, acting is my life! Never so happy as when I'm acting, not living.

Oh, what'd I say?  Oh well, you know what I mean.

(Why am I so afraid, then? I will not be afraid.) 

(697)

*

Joyce Carol Oates, Blonde, ISBN 9781841153728

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

This might have already been said before but hey, whatever. So you know how Ax combined the rest of the gang's DNA to make his human morph? Well what if they did that with animals, like stuck scorpion pincers on Jake's tiger morph or some shit?

It has been said before— just not to me!  Interestingly enough, K.A. Applegate mentioned during a Twitter thread that she got that question a lot from readers, which is part of the reason that the plot of #35 The Proposal covered that specific issue.

IMHO, the problem with even attempting to make one’s own morph is multi-fold: 

Problem 1: Morphing cannot be controlled to that level of precision.

None of the Animorphs except Cassie can do anything other than launch themselves into the process and focus really hard until it’s done.  They can’t control the speed of the changes, they can’t control the order, and they can’t control the type.  Therefore, Jake becomes faster at changing shapes and more skillful at using them over time, but he also cannot stop himself from rolling off the side of a mountain and going splat if he demorphs wrong, even at his most experienced (#54).

Even Cassie can only manage to be partway into or out of a morph if it’s her original human shape.  So she can have a half-gull, half-human body for like a couple minutes if she concentrates really hard (#44), or she could have a third-gull, third-human, third-dolphin shape for a hot second or two if she starts as a gull and demorphs before remorphing, but there’s no doing it without some human parts.

Which leads to...

Problem 2: Animal shapes tend to be fundamentally incompatible.

Most of the Animorphs (again, Cassie’s a partial exception) are almost entirely helpless when they’re mid-morph.  The characters eventually learn to use this fact to their advantage — Marco gets the drop on David this way, and later Rachel uses it against Tom’s yeerk — which suggests that it’s pretty fundamental.

When one is in a half-and-half shape, it is usually impossible to walk (#17), to see (#21), to breathe (#36) or to defend oneself against even a much weaker opponent (#33).  Most of the time, the Animorphs go through a second or two during which THEY HAVE NO LUNGS because their human pair is gone before their insect/bird/fish set shows up.  This actually makes a kind of sense within the openly-nonsensical Laws of Applied Phelbotinum of this universe, in that morphing tech doesn’t go in any particular order.

Anyway, even if one could manage to make a hybrid shape, it wouldn’t be much use.  A human with a dog nose and hawk eyes wouldn’t be able to interpret the information coming from those senses, because the requisite neural circuitry wouldn’t be there.  A snake with bird wings wouldn’t have the necessary musculature to take off and fly anywhere.  So on and so forth.

Problem 3: The horror, the horror.

As #35 covers with the civilians’ reactions to Marco’s “spunk” (spider-skunk) and “poo bear” (poodle-polar bear), hybrids are obviously unnatural and kinda disturbing.  A lot of the time, the Animorphs’ advantage comes from their ability to blend in with their surroundings as seagulls or dolphins or humans.  Hybrids of this sort can only come from alien technology.

Ergo, any controller who sees a hybrid will immediately know that that’s an “andalite bandit” and try to kill it.  And civilians aren’t much better, as Tobias points out: “The average, fairly decent human would think of taking [an alien] to a hospital... The average not-so-decent human might decide to shoot it, or stick it in a cage and charge people to look at the freak” (#23).  Either way, they’d be attracting a lot of unwanted attention.

Problem 4: There’s really no improving on natural selection (especially not with an eighth-grade education).

Much of the point of the Animorphs series, according to Applegate herself, is to give kids the sense of what it really would mean to be a duck or a cobra or a seal.  That means that there’s a huge motif in the series around showing how mind-blowingly good nature already is at ending up with organisms that fit their environments.  Almost every single book involves the kids discovering some hidden wonder of their own planet in unlikely places, whether it’s Jake and Cassie and Marco all (with apologies to Tobias) insisting that being a housefly is even cooler than being a bird, or it’s Rachel comparing a mole moving through the ground to a dolphin in the ocean, or Tobias marveling at opposable thumbs.

Earth animals already are superweapons, and trying to graft extra limbs or something onto them is unlikely to do much to help.  Because if it did help, evolution would’ve done so already.

Also, I LOVE that the kids get most of their ideas from video games and pop songs and Magic School Bus, because it goes a long way toward making them feel like real people with whom I want to be friends.  However, that also means that, while a DVM like Michelle might have some ideas about how to improve upon even existing systems, the kids themselves probably don’t have any really brilliant insights.  So even if they could make a hybrid, even if it managed to function, even if it was subtle enough to avoid huge attention... it still probably wouldn’t be useful.

Said another way: you could put scorpion claws on a tiger, maybe, if you were a tiger who had a scorpion morph and were also an estreen.  But they’d be so small that they’d be useless to the tiger, and you’d be sacrificing the tiger’s front limbs to the claws, so now your tiger can’t walk.  You could add a few extra limbs, and make the tiger small enough to use the claws, and build the necessary musculature to operate them, and have a scorpion brain so that you could manipulate the claws... At which point you’re just using a scorpion morph.  Or you could let the tiger be a tiger, which would be a far more effective strategy than trying to mess around with several million years’ worth of evolutionary refinement.

[brightbeautifulthings]

Bad Blood by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

"'You just finally accepted that sometimes, the biggest sacrifice isn't made by the person who gives up her life. Sometimes, the hardest thing to be is the one who lives.'"

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 5/5

About: There are spoilers ahead for The Naturals, Killer Instinct, and All In. In solving their Las Vegas case, the Naturals have stumbled upon the greatest threat they've ever encountered: a deadly cult that has been killing in cycles for decades, and possibly even longer. Most shocking of all, they may be the people who abducted Cassie's mother several years ago, and she may still be alive. When the trail leads them to a small town in Oklahoma, Cassie realizes to her shock that she's been there before. She lived there with her mother for over a year, and the key to finding her and the cult may be hidden in her blocked memories. Trigger warnings: death, parent/child death, animal death (off-page), rape, torture, abuse/abusive households, cults, fires/burns, poison, abduction, severe injury, violence, guns, blood, hospitals.

Thoughts: At the risk of repeating myself ad nauseam, I'm going to reiterate what I've been saying for the past three reviews: this series is some of the best YA thriller/crime fiction out there. It has great characters, a strong found family theme, twisty plotting, and excellent psychology, which is at least two more things than I usually ask for in a book. All quibbles aside, if you're a fan of the genre, it's absolutely not to be missed, and Bad Blood is a solid conclusion to what turned out to be one of my favorites series of the year. It nicely brings together elements of the other three books, most notably Cassie's mother's alleged murder.

It's hard to argue that a book is both too fast and too slow, but that was my overall impression. In terms of plot, it's a little slow; in terms of character development, I wanted a bit more. Each book has focused on a single character's backstory to develop in more detail (The Naturals/Cassie, Killer Instinct/Dean, All In/Sloane). Obviously, that wasn't going to work for the remaining Naturals with only one book left in the series, and Bad Blood doesn't quite pull it off. The first section focuses on Michael's history with an alarming revelation, and the second on Lia as she struggles with a case that involves a cult much like the one she was raised in. The last third, predictably, is wholly centered on the plot with Cassie and her mom, but the result is somewhat off-balance. It feels simultaneously like we're skating by Michael and Lia's development too quickly and also like the actual plot takes a long time to kick in. I suspect it would have worked better as two separate books, but the publishing industry doesn't always favor what's best for the story.

That's not to say it isn't an enjoyable ride from beginning to end though, and it is. The series has been building to revelations about Cassie's history and her mother's abduction from book one, and it doesn't disappoint. It's both more twisted and more dangerous than anything the Naturals have had to face before, and worse because it's so deeply personal. Cassie and Dean's relationship also has more page-time, which was one of my complaints about Killer Instinct. It's possible that, no matter what happened in Bad Blood, I was always going to want more time with these characters, if only to see them (finally) having a chance to deal with all the trauma of the past few cases. While there's a proper amount of closure here, I'd happily read at least four more books in the series. Instead, I’ll settle for the remaining novella and looking into some of Barnes’s other books.

[flawlesspeasant]

You were the author who wrote about jo and alex’s Kids Lyla and little Alex right? Do you remember writing a prompt about little Alex choking on like a chip and going to the hospital. Could you please please please repost it? Thanks a bunch!!!

Hi! Yes, that was me! I do remember writing this prompt, and sorry it took me super long to get back to it, but I had to do some SERIOUS digging on my computer to find all four parts. Here you go! :) 

Part two | Part three | Part four.

                                   _____________________________

 “Really? And what happened after that?” Jo tried to sound enthusiastic as she talked to her daughter but in reality, she was exhausted. Alex was working until 4:30, which meant that she was totally in charge of childcare for the day. 

 For the last two months since the baby was born, she and Alex had been working together to ensure that everything got done efficiently. The two of them had worked so well together that Jo had actually begun to think that having two kids was easy, but now that she had to do it herself, she was beginning to understand exactly how hard it is to do it alone without Alex’s help. “Did you end up winning?” She huffed, out of breath from climbing the steps while holding both her daughter’s hand and her son’s car seat. “Uh-huh. We winned and everyone say…they said I was a good um…kicker.” The five year old continued to gush to her mother, telling her all about the great day she had in gym class despite the bright pink and black striped cast she sported on her left arm. 

 Although Jo was tired, she genuinely did want to hear about the kind of day her daughter had. After having a stint with bullies that resulted in Lyla’s broken arm, she demanded that the school switch Lyla’s classroom. Today was the first day the new classroom was in effect and already, she could tell that her daughter was doing better at school. She never had exciting stories to tell upon coming home from school and suddenly, she was gushing to her mother about everything that went on in her new classroom now that she was finally separated from the bullies. “I made a fwend, mommy.” 

“You did?! That’s awesome!” Jo leaned down and placed the baby’s car seat on the ground so she could mess around with her keys and find the right one to open their front door. In the car seat, the bright-eyed baby boy lay happily cooing and grabbing up at the multicolored animal figurines hanging from the handle of his car seat. “What are their names? Are they nice to you?” She shoved the key into the lock and twisted it, opening up the door to their loft. She picked the baby back up and shuffled into the house right behind her five year old daughter. “Were they nice to you?” 

“Their names are…Cassie and Megan and Gage.” Lyla plopped down on the floor right in front of the door and began untying her shoes. As much as Jo didn’t want to admit it, she was actually glad that Alex talked her out of switching Lyla’s schools. She reluctantly agreed to keep Lyla in the school district that she was in, but she demanded a classroom change and it seemed to have been working. It was just the first day and already Lyla was making friends. “I sit by Megan. Her shared her cwayons wiff me.” The little girl tossed her sneakers to the side and sprung up. “They colored on my arm mama, see?” She held her cast out for her mother to see. 

Jo knelt down on the floor to unstrap the baby from his car seat but she looked up momentarily to appease her daughter. It took her a while to get used to having two children to pay attention to and although she wasn’t proud, she admitted that she didn’t know how to equally divide her attention between the two. She was beginning to get the hang of it though. “Woooow…that’s so cool.” 

She pretended to be very interested in the two chicken-scratch handwritten names on the elbow of Lyla’s cast. “You said Gage though…” Since the little girl’s arm was still in her face, Jo jutted her head forward and kissed the parts of her hand that were left out of her cast. “You said Gage?” She gently nestled her hand underneath her baby boy’s head and carefully lifted him up out of the car seat, planting a kiss on his downy soft brown hair. “Is Gage a boy?” Embarrassed, Lyla looked down at the floor and wiggled her feet to avoid her mother’s question. “Oooh! I’m telling daddy!” While laying on Jo’s shoulder, Alex grabbed a chunk of his mother’s hair and smacked his lips together while trying to put it in his mouth. “You know better than to have boyfriends, don’t you?! I’m telling daddy!” Noting that her son’s actions meant hunger, she switched the baby to her other shoulder and winced when he didn’t let his grip on her hair go. “Lyla’s got a boyfriend…mhm, I’m tellin’ daddy.”

 “He not my boyfwend!” With reddened, rosy cheeks, Lyla looked up and gave her mom a cheeky smile. She thought about how her mommy never went a day without telling her how pretty she was. Usually in the mornings while Jo was brushing her hair for school, she would make it a point to tell her daughter that she was either “gorgeous”, “so pretty” or “beautiful”. Lyla never really thought her mommy meant it. Even though she was only five, she was still pretty smart for a five year old and she knew that it was her mommy’s job to tell her how pretty she was. “All him did was gimme a stwawberry at lunch.” She did think that Gage was cute though…and she liked the way his hair was spiky and his shoes lit up when he walked. And Gage told her that she was pretty today too…but she wasn’t going to tell her mommy that. 

“Look at you! You’re all blushin’ and smilin’!” Jo teased, cradling the baby with one arm and making a bottle with her one single free hand. “I’m tellin’ your daddy. Lyla’s got a boyfriend…he gave you a strawberry at lunch? Uh-huh. You got a boyfriend. What do you think daddy’s gonna say?” Once the bottle was made, Jo began to shake it up. Although she really wished Alex was home to help her out—especially with the fact that she was about to cook dinner—Jo liked spending alone time with just her and her babies. “I can’t believe you got your first boyfriend, bubbles…you’re growing up on me.” 

“Mommy…mommy.” Lyla happily skipped over to her mother and patted her on her lower stomach. “Don’t tell daddy…but Gage tell me…him say…him say I pwetty. Shh!” 

 “OH MY!” Naturally, Jo took the baby off her shoulder again and situated him in her arms. She held the bottle in his mouth and gazed down at his big, round, deep green eyes while he sucked hungrily on the bottle. “I’m so telling your dad! I can’t wait for him to get home!” She braced the bottle against her chest and reached down to her daughter. Lyla closed her eyes and Jo pressed her finger to the corner of her eyelid, getting off a pesky green eye-booger. “I’m telling your dad. Just wait.” Lyla giggled and shook her head at her mom. “You hear that, fat man? Your sister’s got a boyfriend. And yep…I’m telling daddy.” 

 Baby Alex just gazed up at his mother with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Jo was his most favorite person in the world and sometimes he would wake up and cry in the middle of the night just because he missed her. Jo and the baby had a very strong bond, like she had with both her babies. She leaned down and kissed the top of his forehead. “Hey flirty mirty…” Jo called her daughter, catching her creeping to the snack drawer. Lyla looked at her mom innocently. “Will you hold your brother’s bubba for me so I can cook?” 

 “Can I have chips?” Lyla put her hand on the snack drawer and challenged. “Not too many…you’ll spoil your dinner.” Jo carried the baby to the living room and slowly placed him in his favorite swing right in front of the TV. Lyla snatched a bag of nacho cheese flavored Doritos from the snack drawer and happily skipped to the living room to help feed her brother. 

Today was the best day she had at school in a very long time. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel threatened at school. She loved her new classroom and she loved the fact that she made friends. She plopped down on the floor with her bag of chips and replaced her mother’s hand with her own. 

 The five year old girl had become pretty efficient at multitasking with her cast on. She held her brother’s bottle with her casted arm and chomped on her chips with the free one. Jo turned on the TV for her to watch and stroked her hair. 

 “Let me know when he’s all done with it, bubbles. Daddy should be home soon.” Lyla nodded her head and tuned into the latest episode of Austin and Ally. In his swing, baby Alex continued to suck hard on his bottle. In the recent weeks, Lyla had really grown to like her baby brother. She thought of him as a real, live baby doll and when she thought of him that way, she thought he was a lot of fun. 

 She also liked it when her mommy and daddy would praise her for being such a big girl when she helped feed him or brought her mommy a diaper. She also felt important because she was the only person that could get him to stop crying when his belly was hurting; even if it was only for a little while. With her mouth full of chips, she glanced at her brother’s bottle. When she saw that it was almost empty, she tilted it higher like her daddy taught her how to do. 

 “Mommyyyyy….him done!” She called back to the kitchen with her mouth still full of chewed up chips. 

“Just take it off of him then. Give him his nini.” Jo called back from the kitchen. Her hands were too dirtied up with the ground beef she was pressing into hamburger patties to rush to the living room and help. She was only slightly surprised to know that her son had finished the bottle so quickly. She had only given him four ounces and she knew that he was going to dust it off pretty quickly. Baby Alex was all too much like big Alex…he loved to eat. 

 “His nini is in his playpen…grab it and give it to him.” The fact that Lyla wasn’t trying to hurt the baby anymore took a weight off of Jo. The little girl really had been being the picture-perfect big sister lately. 

Lyla scooted on her butt over to her brother’s playpen and plucked the pacifier out of the side pocket. In a very motherly kind of way, Lyla sucked on the baby’s pacifier first like she had seen her mother do sometimes. She looked at it to make sure there was nothing on it and stuck it in her brother’s mouth. “There Ally.” 

 Alex sucked on his pacifier and stared at his sister intently. “Why you lookin’ at me for?” 

 She rubbed his hair forward and stood in front of him. She covered her eyes with her hands. “Peek-a-boo!” 

 She took her hands away and shouted. Alex’s lips curled up into a smile and his pacifier fell out. 

 Lyla covered her eyes again. “Peek-a-boo!” Alex giggled, looking at his sister with such fascination. He was amazed that she could just disappear and appear like that! Jo watched her daughter play with her son with a half-smile on her face. The fact that Lyla had finally warmed up to her brother really made her happy. 

 Just then, the door to the loft slid open again and through it walked Alex. “…Hey.” She wiped her hands free of ground beef on the dishtowel and walked over to greet…whatever he was to her. He was still her ex-husband but she didn’t feel right referring to him as that. “How was your day?” She raised up on her tiptoes and pecked Alex on his cheek. 

 The two of them still had never shared a kiss since the day their son was born but Jo thought that would change soon. She just didn’t want to be the first one to kiss him and likewise, Alex didn’t want to be the first one to kiss her. “Busy…glad to be home.” Alex shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up. He was slightly confused about why Jo was suddenly kissing him on his cheek when most of the time, she wouldn’t even look at him. 

Things between him and Jo had been looking up lately but he didn’t want to jinx anything. He finally felt like he was getting the family that he lost back and he didn’t want to mess that up for himself. “What’s going on there?” He motioned with his head to the living room, referring to how Lyla was still playing with her brother and how the baby was shrieking with laughter.

 “Don’t question it.” Jo mumbled and walked back to the stove so she could start placing the hamburger patties into the frying pan. Just as she started to put one in there, something crossed her mind and she turned back to Alex. “Oh yeah, guess what…Lyla has a boyfriend.”

“…No the hell she doesn’t.” Alex shook his head and opened the fridge in search of something to quench his thirst. “She’s five. She doesn’t have a boyfriend.” He dismissed. “What else happened today?” 

“She really does have a boyfriend though. He gave her a strawberry at lunch and told her that she was pretty. His name is Gage. I say we meet him.” She knew how much it bothered Alex to think about Lyla being involved with boys so she decided to tease him a little longer. 

“Lyla doesn’t have a boyfriend. End of discussion.” He mumbled. Back in the living room, Lyla kneeled in front of her brother and stuck her tongue out. She liked to make him laugh but Austin and Ally came back from a commercial, so she plopped down on her butt again and paid attention to the TV. 

She grabbed a handful of chips and shoveled them into her mouth just as her brother began to whine. Without his sister to entertain him, Alex had begun to think about the fact that he was still hungry. Lyla glanced at her brother again but when she saw that he wasn’t fully crying, she just continued watching TV. Alex poked his lip out and his eyes welled up with tears as another crying whimper came out of his mouth. 

 “You want some?” Lyla plucked one chip out of the bag, noticing that her brother was staring at her the entire time she was eating. He was staring at the chips so surely he wanted one, right? 

 “Here you go.” Nicely, Lyla placed the clip on her brother’s lip. Instinctively, Alex opened his mouth just like he did when ANYTHING touched his lips. Lyla pushed the chip in his mouth and smiled when she saw him smacking his lips together. 

Alex’s natural sucking reflex kicked in and he pushed the chip back with his tongue and swallowed like he did whenever he drank his milk. The chip wasn’t soft and liquidy like every other thing Alex had ever eaten was. The chip was hard and jagged and it hurt him on the way down and he wanted his mommy…mommy always made things better. 

 He poked his lip out again and contorted his face up to cry but as soon as he look a breath to let out a wail, the chip lodged in his throat and he gasped. Lyla had never heard her brother make that noise before so she looked away from the TV again and when she looked at her brother, she suddenly got scared. Baby Alex’s lips were turning light blue and his usually creamy white skin was turning blue too. 

 “MOMMY!” 

 “Alex, she’s going to date someday. You might as well get used to the idea.” Back in the kitchen, Jo smiled, still teasing Alex. 

“She’s not dating until she’s 40, Jo.” Alex remained stern. 

“MOMMY!!!!” Lyla ran to the kitchen and frantically tapped her mom’s belly. “MOMMY!” 

“What, pumpkin?” Jo looked down and immediately, she sensed that something was very wrong. The look on her daughter’s face was something crossed between terror and sadness. “What?” 

“Ally, mommy!!!! Ally!” Lyla continued to tap her. 

“What about him?” Jo’s eyes roamed into the living room and she instantly saw that something was horribly wrong. The baby laid in his swing completely limp, all color drained from his face and his lips an unnatural shade of indigo. 

 “ALEX!!!!!” Jo screamed so loud that everyone’s ears rang and she bolted straight to the living room. “ALEX GET IN HERE, NOW!!!!!” She dropped to her knees and picked her baby up out of the swing. “No, no, no, no…” Alex dashed to the living room seconds after Jo and kneeled down to see what he could do. 

 “Jo, move…move, I need to see.” He tried to remain calm. He had handled asphyxiation cases more times than he cared to count….he knew how to give an infant CPR. “Jo, move.” 

“He’s not breathing! ALEX, HE’S NOT FUCKING BREATHING!” Jo put her ear to her son’s chest to listen for a heartbeat but she was too worked up to properly listen. “…WHAT HAPPENED?!” She turned to her five year old, since she was the last person with him. 

 Lyla stood by the couch, shocked and horrified at the sight of her brother’s limp, lifeless body on the floor. She saw this on an episode of Monster High. Cleo almost drowned in the Nile River and her lips were blue…she knew that this wasn’t good.  “WHAT HAPPENED, LYLA?!!!! I NEED YOU TO TELL MOMMY WHAT HAPPENED!!!!” Lyla wanted to tell her. 

 But how could she tell her mommy that she’s the reason her brother’s like this? She didn’t want a brother anymore. Just when she thought she was doing good with being a big sister, she hurts her brother. 

 She didn’t want to be a big sister anymore.

[thenixkat]

Animorphs notes: 18

Book 18

Narrated by Aximili

Again I really wish something had come of the andalite traitors thing

Ax’s audience is other andalites

Leera’s like the only planet besides Earth to get an actual name in this joint

Andalites don’t use money

Ax is tryin g to work to get money to buy food

Ax needs to stop dicking around in human morph b;c he’s gonna getsomeone in trouble, possibly killed

This manager is actually a nice person

So Marco caught Ax

They are retelling the event at Cassie’s barn]

They are waiting for news from Erek

So was Ax? Alone at the damn mall? I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again there are rocks smarter than these kids

Erik has hidden chee with him

Of course Tobias fucking spots them all, its not like the chee could make themselves invisible

Hewlett Aldershot the Third, that’s a serious name

Yeerks wanna infest im for reasons and had Iness hit him with a car

Is this the same yeerk infested hospital from an earlier book? I guess boiling a bunch of folks alive and a minor wildlife rampage didn’t do shit.

Marco’s snippy when bored

So, either Visser 3 knows how to morph regular clothes or isn’t hamped by them at all and no one feels the need to mention them ripping through some while morphiong

Yeerks can’t do anything with a comatose host. 

Either the head of the secret service is a lady or the president is

That’s not really how wings work forget it

People have to be seeing this 6 winged bird thing chasing a seagull

Also apparently the kafit is some kinda bird of prey

Ax’s seagull morph has talons apparently

Visser 3 is scared of getting into a tail fight

Visser 3 thinks a teenager can beat him.

They’re right b/c they are shit at fighting

Stand face to face for even more opportunity to injure yerself and give yer opponent a better shot at yer head

Visser 3 nopes out of the fight, breaking a leg in the fall, but morphing human fast

Too much protein keeps Aximili awake

Dinnier at Cassie’s ment a lot for Ax

Ax races around as he wrestles with his thoughts and goes to Tobias to talk about feeliongs

Yeerks infultrating the andalite homeworld was an interesting idea and the writers are cowards

Shut up Cassie

Cassie you liar

If they could aquire from say blood alone, then why don’t they just try acquiring from parts of animals like ever?

Rachel is concerned about blood borne diseases and doesn’t know how most of those are contracted

Ax that sounds like bullshit. 

Ax you just hang with little squeemish bitches

Andalites have weak slow baby hands

How exactly do they plan to acquire blood that they ate as a mosquito? If they eat it it starts to break down from digestion and would be decently degraded by the time they vomit it back up and try to acquire from it.

A random sick kid has seen Ax and now knows his name

More humans have seen Ax

And like what reason with the yeerks have to let witnesses go like? Good job at getting more folks enslaved Ax

Ax thinks about collateral damage for once

...that’s a false surrender. Good job Ax! Not no one on yer side can ever actually surrender! Also a war crime.

Ax jumps out a window and morphs mosquito

That’s still not how compound eyes work

Pop

And now in the imaginary place

Huh, Ax and the animorphs get to see themselves in a 4 dimensional? view

Like tesseracts made of meat

Neat

Why, exactly would Tobias., who is in morph in ya know the shape of a bird not appear as a human jigsaw as well in this place?

They got dragged into Z space by a passing ship

And resqued by an andalite crew

The animorphs and Ax made a scientific breakthrough

.7 Andalite years stuck on Earth

I havent gotten to thhat book on my re read but everything you just said was wrong Ax

So there are multiple pool ships and such

Aximili doesnt actually have to stay with you all

He can fight yeerks where ever he pleases and really kinda needs to see others of his own kind every now and then

That grass probably tastes good as fuck tho after almost a year in Earth grass

Andalites being speciest

“May your great god Cha-Ma-Mib smile on you this day.” religious space frogs

“The continent loomed larger and larger. Most of it was lush and green, primarily jungle. Green like Earth's forests and jungles, but with wide swaths of some brilliant yellow vegetation, too. The northern end of the continent was less fertile, more barren, probably colder.”

Leera

The captian is a traitor

Also it is apparently pretty damn easy to take out andalites if you have even the slightest amount of drop on them

Visser 3 and Visser 4 are friends

That tailless dick fortified and used a weapon

The animorphs decided not to stick around in just listening to orders

Gonna blow the kids out an airlock and hope they survive

None of these fucks think to get in a damn fighter craft or emergency escape and attempt to survive

Just, welp folks we’re fucked time for some suicide!

Also the captain wasn’t even a controller, just willingly on the yeerk’s side

On the one hand Ax did abandon them. On the other the animorphs are not entitled to his service

Also this just isn’t the right time to pick on Ax

This is reallt not the right fucking time, Marco and Rachel are either trying to get themselves or someone else killed with their bullshit

Tobias u fucking chose to live in the woods as a wild animal, Aximili didn’t choose to be marroned on an alien world

You feathery asshole

Tobias vanished

Adi-fuckin-os

The yeerk forces are doing well on ground battle

Ax, the animorphs, the andalites, and the writers have failed ecology

Rachel vanished

The writers just really fucking hate sharks

“The water was perfectly, utterly clear. We were swimming in water that was forty feet deep, and we could see every detail on the ocean floor.

 And what detail! Huge, billowing creatures like white and yellow sails, triangular with biological propellers at each corner. Brilliant, electric-blue worms or snakes, each seventy feet long, swimming in wild schools. A bizarre creature that rose and fell through the water by blowing air into a bladder so thin it was almost transparent. A wonderful sort of fish in the shape of a screw that rotated its way through the water.

 And these creatures weren't scattered here and there, but everywhere. The Leeran ocean was a madhouse of life-forms.

 Spread around across the ocean were bubbling chimneys of rock and soil, encrusted with squirming, writhing creatures, small and less small. My shark senses could feel the electrical discharge from these chimneys, and the intense warmth. As I watched, a massive school of the brilliant blue worms came swirling around one of the chimneys. It swirled and my shark senses could feel the energy flow from the chimney into the worms.”

There would still be fucking predators u nits

“They were mostly yellow. They had skin that was slimy, as if covered with ooze, yet rough in texture, like gravel. They had large, webbed back legs. For arms they had four tentacles arrayed around their plump, barrel-shaped bodies.  The head was quite large, with a bulge at the back. It sat right on the shoulders. There was no neck. The face bulged outward and seemed to have just two features. A huge, wide, almost ridiculous mouth. And big, bulging eyes of a green that seemed almost to be lit from inside.

 There were four Leerans. They were riding on water jets. The water jets were long, narrow tubes, flared in front to make a sort of wing, flared again in back to give extra

maneuverability. Arrayed along the back wing were clusters of very narrow tubes pointed forward.”

Leerans

The crew free some leerans (granted they were going to kill them) b/c the leerans showed them how to get the yeerks out of them

The team morph leerans and are uncomfortable with knowing eachother’s thoughts

Oh what normal space ships arent good enough for crushing ocean pressures now? Gotta have actual submarines?

A lot of these high ranking andalites are quick to yelling and threats of violence aint they

That is a very iffy plan not the least being the yeerks with their mostly terrestrial shock troops would have likely set up camp there anyway it seems. But if u wanna throw away lives who cares

Marco vanished

Talking to scientists and shit

Actually Jake, if all of you vanish b4 u carry out the mission it will be too late for a back up

A world with no predators my ass

Cassie vanishes

Ah, so yeah bats aint flying with torn to shit wings. They’s ded

Jake vanished

How exactly did the andalites get the shit in there in the first place?

Hah, the hork hosts have rocket boosters

Aximili is saved by vanishing

So why were they snapped back in mosquito morph and not just flund full force back into their real bodies

And why snap them all back to the same moment and not staggared into different moments in time

How the fuck did this man feel a damn mosquito bite? A notible aspect of mosquitoes as that we don’t really feel them biting

Genral yeerk panicking over management

End with scene at mall

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Stamped Into Memory, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: One night is all it takes to throw Campbell's carefully maintained control into chaos. Caught in a downward spiral and once again public enemy #1, he struggles to keep those around him safe-- from a killer on the loose, and from himself.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Slow Burn, Dubcon Kissing, Romantic Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, implied animal death, the dog lives, Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5436

Part Two, Ch 1 || Ch 2 || AO3

Disclaimer: This is part three of a series. Reading the first two parts is more-or-less essential.

This is a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using (in my experience) a realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis exists on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. Campbell's power will be more in his ability to manipulate-- not "being crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and less sensationalized vision of his behavior. Please note that while I present his relationships as unhealthy and his behavior as questionable, I don't intend to make him a violent abuser, to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were trying to be better (and seeking outside help).

AO3 updates will be on Sunday, unless otherwise noted! The entire part-- all five chapters--have already been posted to my Patreon. Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments. They matter so much to me. <3

///

When a gun goes off, there are only two moments-- before, and after. Shootings were something Campbell, and others his age, had grown up with. It was an ever-present specter, where you held your breath every day you went to school and didn't let it out until you were home again. Slammed doors, dropped books, even the pop of a can of soda, caused people to flinch. But they all knew what a gunshot sounded like. They had seen the videos. They had been through the drills. They knew, if something like that ever happened in West Ham, nothing would be the same again. He knew, at 12:35, that something had changed. He knew that before he even turned the corner. Someone had a gun, and they had used it. The barking had stopped. The street was silent, empty, as Campbell turned the corner. Empty, except for Cassandra laying on the ground.

Campbell rushed over, kneeling beside her. Was she breathing? He couldn't tell, but there was blood pooling around her, and her eyes weren't opening. "Cassandra, come on," he pleaded, searching for her pulse. "Don't you fucking dare, Cassie, don't you dare." Nothing. She was dead. His throat squeezed shut. Campbell fumbled with his phone, but the blood on his hands made it impossible to grip properly. Gordie, or Allie. He had to call someone, anyone. But then he stopped, chaotic impulse shifting into cold logic. Campbell was the only one in town who had openly used a gun. His friendship with Cassandra was, aside from a few people, not widely known. Worse, Campbell had held Cassandra at gunpoint before. If anyone saw him there, he was fucked. He had to get the hell out of there before someone else came to investigate the noise. It felt wrong to walk away, but he forced his feet to keep going. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he did would bring her back. It was a finality, and she would be just as gone no matter what. Campbell wasn't sure how he got home. It was a blur, and for a moment he'd hoped it had all been some sort of weird hallucination, but then he got inside the house and turned on the lights. His hands were still covered in blood. He stared at the sticky, copper-scented mess. She was gone. Cassandra was really gone. "Campbell?" He looked up, staring at Elle as she came down the stairs in a bathrobe. She stopped halfway, her gaze locking onto his hands. Campbell tried to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. All he could smell was blood, and see Cassandra's eyes staring lifelessly, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Oh, god, Cassandra. Witty, ruthless Cassandra, who had been at his side when no one else had been and had promised to always be there, and-- "She's dead," Campbell said. His voice was flat, distant, strange in his own ears. He waited for some sort of sorrow. Tears. Something. But there was nothing except the truth of it, clinical and straightforward. "The damn dog was out there barking and I went to look for them, and there was a gunshot and Cassandra's dead." Elle came down the stairs and moved towards him. "Dead? You're sure?" "I..." He gestured with his gory hands. "She didn't have a pulse." "Okay. Okay, breathe. Come on, come with me." He hadn't realized he'd been hyperventilating. Campbell forced himself to take a long, slow breath and follow Elle to the bathroom. She helped him out of his clothes, and got him into the shower. He scrubbed until his skin was red and raw; it still didn't feel like enough, but the blood was gone. When he got out, Elle was waiting with clean clothes. His phone and old clothes were gone. Campbell didn't ask questions, and got dressed. Elle was in the living room by the time he was finished, wrapping his clothes in plastic bags. "We can burn these later," she said quietly as he sat down on the sofa next to her. His phone was on the coffee table, completely wiped down. "In a few days, when it's less suspicious." "I didn't do it, Elle. You have to believe me." "I believe you, but we both know how it'll go if the rest of the town thinks you did it." Well, he could appreciate the matter-of-fact logic there. Campbell sat down and stared at his hands. He couldn't feel anything. It almost felt like his mind was racing, but not with thoughts or emotions. Just static. White noise. Like a broken down robot. Still, his heart was beating so fast, and Campbell felt like it was hard to swallow. He was shaking. It was summer, warm, but it felt like someone had drenched him in ice water. What was this? What was happening? It didn't make sense. None of it. How was this happening? How could Cassandra be dead? When she was done, Elle hid the clothes somewhere in the house, bringing a blanket back with her; they curled up on the sofa together, with Campbell tucked into Elle's lap. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep, the weird twisted and rushing feeling in his body guttering into a deep, terrible ache in his muscles. Rest was impossible. He kept startling awake, and even when he managed to drift off, his dreams were filled with Cassandra staring at him, soaked in blood and flipping a coin. The phone rang at 5am. Bean was on the other end, crying so hard Campbell could barely make out what she was saying. "Allie wants family to come to the hospital," she choked. "There's been an accident." It only took ten minutes to drive to the hospital. Campbell parked by the entrance, but when he went to get out, he just... couldn't. Elle sat in the passenger seat, silent. She didn't ask what was wrong. Thank fuck for that, because Campbell wouldn't have known what to tell her. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to see their faces or deal with their crying. He didn't want to hear their questions. Was her body there? Would they make him see it? They would expect him to cry, too, but Campbell couldn't. He couldn't, and he didn't want to, because behind that padlocked door there was something dark and he didn't want to set it free. Not like this. Not yet. Not until they found Cassandra's killer. Elle's hand rested on his, and he realized he was breathing too fast again. Anxiety wouldn't help anyone. What would Cassandra do, in all this? She'd be strong, and try to help others. Campbell didn't give a shit about most of them, but he cared about Sam, and he knew Sam would be in there somewhere. He couldn't let Sam go through that alone. Maybe Campbell couldn't cry with them, but he could try to help them. The lobby of the hospital was eerily silent, save for the sound of people weeping. Allie was standing by the front desk and crying into Will's shoulder, while Kelly and Bean held each other. Sam was off to the side, his face in his hands. He bit back the bubble of loathing that rose in his chest when Kelly and Allie's eyes turned to glower at him. Campbell stood there for a moment, trying to decide which move to make first. He wanted to go to Sam, but if he breezed past Allie then she'd be even more of a problem than she was already. What did he really care about that, though? She should have fucking been there with Cassandra. She should have been there, but because she was a fucking whiny baby, Cassandra had died alone. Fuck her opinions. Campbell sat next to Sam, nudging Sam's shoulder with his own. "Hey," he signed when Sam looked up. "Is there anything I can do?" Sam searched Campbell's face. His eyes welled up, and at first he shook his head, but then he signed fast and messily, like he didn't want to say it at all. "I need you to be here. I need my brother." Something lanced through Campbell's stomach, fleeting but painful. This wasn't how they were supposed to fix things. This wasn't how they were supposed to come back together. Campbell put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and after a brief hesitation, Sam leaned against him; Campbell could be whatever Sam needed him to be, put on whatever mask Sam expected Campbell to wear, but Campbell wished he could cry with Sam. Show Sam that he felt it, too. That he understood. But the best he could do was hold Sam as he wept, rocking him until Sam was too exhausted to cry anymore. One by one, the people around them fell quiet, too. Now and then there'd be a sniffle, a raspy cough, or someone blowing their nose. Everyone looked listless. Worn. At some point, Becca arrived. She ground to a halt when she saw Campbell, and he noticed her expression turn icy. Whatever. Campbell didn't care. Whatever her problem with him was, it paled compared to what was happening. Luckily, Sam noticed her arrival, and pulled away to go to her; at least that would keep that conflict at bay, for now. "Does anyone need something to eat or drink?" Elle asked softly. A few people muttered an affirmative. "I don't think anyone checked the cafeteria here. There might be something." Bean dried her eyes and stood up. "That's a good idea. I'll come with you." Campbell stood and gave Elle a kiss on the cheek before she left. Bean glanced at him, but said nothing. Suspicion was already stirring, and why wouldn't it? Even knowing that, though, he wasn't quite ready for Allie's reaction once Elle was out of earshot. "You." Allie spat the word out like his mere presence was revolting. She grit her teeth, her voice accusing as her face contorted in rage. "Where were you last night? Where were you when Cassandra was killed?" Sam, who had been watching the exchange, stepped in between them ever so slightly. "Don't do this. He didn't kill Cassandra." "How do you know? Answer the fucking question, Campbell." Campbell blinked at Sam's reaction, but he shook his head. "It's fine, Sam. Look, Elle and I left prom a little early. I drove Dillon, Harry, and a couple other people home, and then we went home and stayed there all night." Allie opened her mouth, then closed it again. Anger gave way to loss as her lip quivered. "Do you know anyone who would have? Did... did anyone tell you anything? Maybe she told you about someone threatening her?" "No. I swear to you, Allie, I have no idea what did this. If I did, I'd have dragged them in here by their balls. I'm sorry." "Fine. Okay." Pressing a hand to her mouth, Allie took a step towards Campbell, but then backed away again and shook her head when her phone buzzed. "I gotta go. Gordie's doing the..." She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. Allie turned and walked off, with Will following silently behind her. Fuck. Campbell kicked a chair and sent it skittering across the floor; everyone but Sam jumped. "What happened?" Campbell asked, raising his voice to address the entire room. "How long have you all been here?" At first, there was silence, but then Kelly spoke. "Gordie was waiting for her, but she never came home. He found her laying outside the inn a little before one." Becca went over and curled her arms around Kelly as she began to cry again. "Why was she alone? Gwen was supposed to be there. Gwen should have been there with her." So, Gwen had been AWOL at the time it happened. Campbell made a mental note. Gwen had always been a heinous twat to Cassandra, and she was friends with Lexie, who wasn't much better. Elle and Bean came back with little bags of chips and boxes of juice. Everyone took something, but no one actually ate. They all just sat and stood around like ill-tempered children on the worst camping trip of their lives. And wasn't that the truth? They were still so young. They should have been worrying about graduation and dating and jobs, not murder. Helena walked through the doors, her face perfectly neutral. "Grizz and a couple other guys are working on a grave. The rest of the guard are at the scene until Gordie gets done. They'll make sure no one tampers with it." Campbell growled. "Yeah, unless one of them did it." "Are you accusing one of them of murder?" Helena demanded, crossing her arms. "Keep in mind, my boyfriend is one of them, and I know him." "Oh, I'm sure you do." Sam knocked on a chair to get their attention. "Let's not argue right now. We don't know who did this. We won't know without evidence. But the guard doesn't seem like the type." "Yeah, you're right." Campbell fixed his gaze on Helena. "Grizz is too much of a kitten, and the rest of them can't tie their fucking shoes without a how-to video, so my mistake." Helena started towards him, but Bean grabbed her arm and whispered something to her. The edge of Helena's nose twitched up in a barely suppressed sneer. Helena started to say something, but Gordie, Allie, and Will came back just then and everyone else turned their attention to Gordie. He looked ill, clutching a folder tight in his hands. "I know you all want answers. But I... I think I should take some time to look for more evidence, and talk to Allie, before I share my findings. I think you all should go home. If you hear anything, please call me or Allie right away. The funeral will be around noon." Everyone filtered out of the hospital, some starting to cry again. Elle hadn't shed a single tear, though her face was solemn as they got back to the car. When they got in, she touched his knee, her eyebrows furrowed. "I know this is such a pointless question, but are you okay? I mean, how can anyone be, but..." "I don't know." He threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, focusing on the road. "I mean, I'm not going to do anything to myself if that's what you mean, but I don't know. I have to just focus on one step at a time. I can't afford to lose it." "It's okay to lose it a little. Pretty sure you almost did on Helena." "She thinks Luke shits glitter. I just can't fucking stand that mentality. Just because you love someone doesn't mean they can't do fucked up things." "Tell me about it." "What do you mean?" Elle laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "You're not the only one with secrets, Campbell. Let's just say I know all too well that people can surprise you in the worst ways." But then they were home, and the conversation felt over. They stepped inside the home, and it just felt... different. Strange. So, this was the after in the before and after. Campbell looked at the pictures he'd left hanging on the walls. One was of him, Cassandra, Allie, and Sam when they were younger. Before. And now, now they were in the after, and he had to find some way to pretend like the word wasn't falling down around their heads. Like shit wasn't going to fall apart without her. "I need to go see Harry," Campbell said suddenly. "Now." Frowning, Elle sat down on a stool in the kitchen. "You haven't had breakfast. Why do you need to go see him?" "Because I'm ninety percent sure he knows who did it. Stay here." It was no secret that Harry disliked Cassandra. Hate was probably a strong word; they got along, sometimes, but their rivalry was the stuff of legends. Campbell knew that Harry would be the number one suspect. The fact was, though, that Harry didn't have the guts to do something like that. Harry had a big mouth and the usual rich boy complex, but he was also fragile. Not in the sense of his masculinity, but mentally. Emotionally. He was needy, hated to confront anything that was serious, and was a follower more than a leader. No. He didn't kill Cassandra, either. But he was friends with the guard, and was familiar with some other sniveling brats who had hated-- actually hated-- Cassandra. Clingy little cockroaches that hung around Harry for the drugs and booze, who thought Harry was something special and wanted to snap up little scraps of whatever shine he had left. Parasites. And because Harry craved attention, he let them hang on. One of them? One of them definitely did it. Campbell felt it in his gut. Harry's home looked like a garbage pit. Campbell walked right in, since apparently no one locked the door anymore, and stared at the sheer amount of crap laying around. Dirty dishes stacked up, clothes everywhere, clutter on every visible surface. The place smelled vaguely like garbage. No wonder Harry was freaking out. There was faint weeping coming from various corners of the house. News must have spread. Interesting, Campbell thought as he climbed the stairs, coming from people who had looked down on Cassandra and had made her a social pariah while she was alive. It would only be a matter of time before they started claiming that they had been her friends, or had admired her, or whatever drivel people said when someone they'd ignored for eighteen years suddenly died. Curled up in bed, Harry was wrapped in blankets like some sort of sentient burrito. There were a few other people there, whispering among themselves, but they scrambled out when Campbell walked in. Good. They didn't need an audience for this. "Hey. Rise and shine." Harry's voice was muffled. He didn't move. "Is it true?" "My sex tape is just a rumor. Oh, wait. Do you mean someone murdering Cassandra?" "Fuck you, Campbell." Peeling his blanket off, Harry sat up and burrowed his hand into his hands. "How the fuck can you joke at a time like this?" "Oh, Harry, it's cute that you think I'm being funny." "What--" But Harry didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say. Campbell grabbed Harry by the shirt and hauled him out of bed, slamming him up against the support post in the middle of the room. Campbell pinned him, hard. "Who did it? Huh? Which one of your little groupies killed my cousin?" "I don't know! I don't know who did it, I swear!" "Bullshit, Harry! Use your goddamn brain. People don't just go shooting someone. Did anyone say something? Was someone pissed off at her?" Harry squirmed in his grip. "A lot of people were pissed off at her, Cam, including me. But no one said anything about..." Suddenly, Harry stopped struggling. His eyes widened as his body went slack. "Oh. Oh fuck." "What? What is it?" "I... Oh god, I didn't mean to." "Mean to what? Spit it the fuck out." "It was at the party I had before prom. We were all drunk already, and I just. I was mad, okay? I was mad and the guys were talking shit about Cassandra, and I just. I didn't mean it, but I said that if she were dead we'd have some peace and quiet." Fury moved through him faster than he could think, and oh he wanted to hurt Harry. His hands tightened on Harry's shoulders, and he felt that urge start to crest, but he could see the fear in Harry's eyes; it gave him just a split second of clarity. Campbell let go of Harry and turned his back to him, taking deep breaths. Back away, back away. Get out of the situation before that anger returned. "This conversation is over," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Get dressed. You're going to make a list of everyone who was there when you said that, and we're going to give that list to Gordie when we go to the funeral." Sinking onto his bed, Harry flinched as Campbell tossed him a pad of paper and a pen; he obeyed and began to scribble down names. In the meantime, Campbell began to clean up the garbage around Harry's bedroom. As pissed off as Campbell was, he knew Harry hadn't meant any harm to come to Cassandra, and Let's Clean Up Harry's Home! was a familiar way to blow off steam. If he crushed a few soda cans with his foot or threw the garbage into a bag a little harder than necessary when no one was looking, well, that was better than the alternative. He shouldn't have done what he did. Campbell knew that. Hurting Harry, scaring him, wouldn't solve anything. If something Harry said got Cassandra killed, it still hadn't been Harry's fault. Murder was a choice, just like shoving someone around was a choice. Fuck. He sighed as he took the trash outside, then came in and stood in the kitchen. His hand moved towards his phone on instinct; whenever he felt like this, like a tornado about to touch down, he would call Cassandra. For a tiny, tiny fraction of a second, he had forgotten. Cassandra had helped him learn to control his rage, and it usually worked, but now she was about to be put under a few feet of dirt. She'd never answer his calls again. Instead, he began washing the dishes. They needed to be scrubbed at that point, and it helped get rid of the remaining urge to break things. Soft footsteps came up behind him. Campbell could smell Harry's cologne, light and floral. Guilty, by Gucci. Fitting. He braced for some sort of fight, but Harry just rested his forehead against the back of Campbell's shoulder. Campbell sighed, but didn't shrug him off. What good would it do? Harry took a towel and began to dry the plates. They worked in silence, until Harry stared down at the towel in his hands and let out a heaving, rattling sigh. His eyes were red and puffy; maybe he hadn't hated Cassandra as much as he'd always pretended, after all, but it was too late for that now and they both knew it. "What do we do?" "Go to the funeral, say our goodbyes, and then wait." "Wait for what?" "To see how bad things get." "We're fucked, aren't we?" He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. But maybe there was still a chance, if someone who knew what they were doing took control. Who? Campbell had no idea. His thoughts were running too fast to puzzle it out. He didn't want to talk anymore; he just wanted to get through the fucking day before whatever was keeping him held together fell apart. Setting the last dish down, Harry sunk down onto a kitchen chair and brought out a slip of paper from his pocket; he set it on the counter, and Campbell picked it up. Jason, Greg, Scott, Travis, Mark. A bunch of jerks, mostly. Travis was alright, and Jason seemed too much like a big doof to kill anyone, even if he was a creep. Campbell put the list in a pocket and gestured towards the door. "Come on. You're going with me." "What? No." "Yes, you are. You're gonna come over and hang with me and Elle for a while, and then we're all going to go. Being here moping isn't going to help either of us." Harry gave up in the end, like always, and followed Campbell home. Elle seemed surprised to see him, but they made a light lunch and sat around the living room doing their own things. Campbell played a video game, Elle read, Harry laid down and pretended to be a rock. Whatever. At least Campbell could keep an eye on him that way. Once it was close to noon, the three of them arrived at the church. They were almost at the door when Harry stopped, staring up at the door like a man about to be hanged. Campbell looked to Elle. "Hey, babe? Can you go inside and save us a seat?" Elle glanced between them, then nodded. He waited until she was inside before turning back to Harry. "What are you doing?" "I can't go in. Allie will be there. She'll think I did it." "She'll think that if you don't go in, too. Okay? Don't bail on me." Harry bit his bottom lip, but he didn't argue; he followed Campbell into the church without protest, keeping his head down and sticking close to Campbell. They made it a few paces in when Campbell spotted Will walking towards them, eyes narrowed and anger coming off him in waves. "You guys have a lot of balls," Will seethed. "Showing up here. We all know how you felt about Cassandra, Harry. You were super fucking clear." Campbell stepped between him and Harry, holding firm. "Will, don't do this." "You think you have any room to speak? You, you pointed a fucking gun at her. Both of you, get out. Now." "Go to hell. I'm family. I loved Cassandra, and I'm not leaving." Will's voice raised to a growling shout. "Get the fuck out!" Before Campbell could speak, Gordie zipped up and grabbed Will by the shoulder. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing, Will?" "Taking out the trash." "Isn't this bad enough already?" "Allie doesn't need to see them here." Campbell pulled the list of names from his jacket, holding it up to Gordie. "Harry and I came up with a list of guys that were shittalking Cassandra at his party the night she was killed. Brought it as a peace offering." Will opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked back and forth between them, then over to Gordie, who took the paper and read it over. Gordie gave Will a look, and Will let out a short, quick breath. "Fine. But you don't talk to Allie." That wasn't going to be a problem. Campbell put a hand on Harry's back and guided him to where Elle was sitting; she took Campbell's hand as he sat between her and Harry, and he squeezed it. Luckily, no one else spoke to any of them. Campbell didn't need the confrontation. He didn't want it. Allie walked to the front of the church and cleared her throat. Whatever small amount of talking there had been quieted down. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, but to her credit, she managed to keep it held to together. "My sister, Cassandra, was good," she started. "She was a good person. She was captain of the debate team. You didn't want to argue with her." There were a few scattered laughs. Even Allie managed a tiny smile. But then she continued, and that smile turned into a darker expression, and her composed mask crumbled. "Who did this? Huh?" She looked around the room. Her gaze briefly stopped on Harry. "Who shot my sister? Why did you do that? We needed her!" she shouted. Allie began to cry, and Will came up to lead her off the stage. "I needed her!" Campbell bowed his head at that last wrenching, despondent wail. No one else spoke, and after a few minutes, the guard gathered at the front of the church. Cassandra's body lay there. "We thought we'd give people a few minutes to come say goodbye," Grizz said softly. "In case it'd help anyone." A few wandered up and formed a small line. Sam was one of the last; Campbell stood and walked down the aisle, ignoring the glares and whispers around him. Sam gave Campbell a grateful look as he approached and stood at his side. They went up together. Someone had pulled back the sheet Cassandra's body was wrapped in, just enough to catch a glimpse of her face. She was pale, eyes closed, clean of blood. "She looks peaceful," Sam signed. "Like she's sleeping." Campbell lifted his hands to sign back, but they just fluttered there uselessly. "She's free from pain now," he finally managed to sign. He leaned down and kissed Cassandra's forehead, his touch lingering for just one more moment before he turned and headed back to his seat without a word. If he opened his mouth again, he had no idea what would happen. The guard waited a moment, then wrapped the body back up and carried her out to the yard. She was buried next to Emily, with nothing but a crude wooden cross marking her final resting place. Cassandra would have laughed at the irony. Campbell wasn't laughing. "Eternal rest, grant her O Lord," Helena spoke, "and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen." Some of the others echoed the amen. Biting his tongue, Campbell resisted the urge to just scream. Elle took his hand as they headed home, her eyebrows knitted together in worry as they walked in silence. When they returned home, Campbell took off his jacket and threw it onto the sofa. "Fuck, what a joke. She would have hated that shit," he said as he ran his hands through his hair. "She hated Christianity." "I think it was more for everyone else." "Must have been, because goddamn Helena didn't even ask what Cassandra believed or would have wanted." Campbell couldn't sit still. He needed to move. He needed to get the feeling in his body out of it. "You know, when she was younger and thought about dying, she talked about how she wanted her funeral to be. She wanted to be cremated and scattered at the ocean. She wanted Beatles music, and for people to dance. She..." Tears made his vision swim, and suddenly that wall that he'd been keeping up all day crumbled. He'd barely cried his entire fucking life, and now it was the second, third time since they'd arrived in their new hellscape. Weak. He was going weak, and if he did, how could he protect anyone? The one good thing about his fucked up brain had been that he could disconnect at will. And this, he couldn't make it stop. All he could do was stand there and sob, like the night he thought his disorder would push people away. Now reality set in even harder-- the people closest to him could die, and he truly would be alone, no matter how good or bad he was. It wasn't fair. It wasn't the least bit fair. Sudden pressure on his arm made Campbell yank back. "Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped, his head immediately going to when his father would grab him whenever Campbell would cry as a child. But then he stopped, remembering where he was and with who, and he felt a new wave of grief at the stunned look on Elle's face. "Elle, I'm sorry." "I didn't mean to upset you." "No, no. It's not your fault. I'm just... I need a moment." Campbell went upstairs and shut the door. He picked up his pillow and just stopped fighting it; he hit it against the wall, punched it, cursing his head off at it. He kept going until his arms and throat were sore, and he was curled up in the bed, hugging the pillow and shaking. She was dead, gone, buried, and the one person who understood and accepted him completely had been stolen from him. From her entire family. Something that happened every day, he knew, but it had never happened to him. Not in any way that had mattered. It wasn't even two o'clock, but he was already more tired than he could ever remember being in his life. He heard the door click open, and a moment later, the mattress dipped behind him. Elle nestled against his back; she didn't touch him exactly, but she was there, and her presence soothed some little part of him. "We'll find the person who did this, Campbell," she said as he dozed off. "Sooner or later, someone will slip up." "Yeah, and when we do, I'm going to make the fucker suffer." He was asleep before he could feel Elle stiffen, just a little.

[whippedforsuga]

50 Questions Tag

I was tagged by the lovely @softie-yoongi thank you so much! 💛 This took a while to think about but I had fun doing it! 

1.What takes up too much of your time?

 Probably social media, I need to go outside more lol

2. What makes your day better?

Good music and Good weather 

3. Whats the best thing to happen to you today?

Its not even 11am when typing this but I managed to have the last two slices of bread for toast so, thats the best thing so far

4. What fictional place would you like to go to?

hmm maybe somewhere like hogwarts or something with magic in it

5. are you good at giving advice?

I’d like to think I can give good advice, I always try to get people to see both sides.

6. Do you have a mental illness?

Possibly? but I have never been properly diagnosed so Im unsure!

7. have you ever experience sleep paralysis?

thankfully no!

8. What musician inspired you the most?

Its gonna have to be BTS, they remind me to grow and become a better person

9. Have you ever fallen in love?

I have!

10. What your dream date?

I would go for a coffee date because you can have nice warm drinks and you have the options to go somewhere after like a nice walk

11. What do others notice about you?

uuuuuh Probably that I can be quiet at first until I get comfy

12.Whats an annoying habit you have?

I can’t sit still and its even worse when I try to go to sleep

13. Do you still talk to your first love?

God no he’s a shitebag

14. How many exes do you have?

3 

15. How many songs are in your playlist?

My biggest has 105, but my current one only has 28! I make new ones for spring/summer and autumn/winter bc I’m weird like that

16. What instruments can you play?

Trumpet!

17. What do you have the most pictures of?

Landscapes (but more than likely its bts)

18. Where would you like to go before you die?

Venice and Japan!

19. Whats your Zodiac?

Libra Sun Capricorn Moon 

20. Do you relate to it?

Oh yes

21. What is happiness to you?

Smiling but not knowing why but everything just feels at peace for that moment

22. are you going through anything right now?

Oh boy let me tell you, I have a viral infection that has me coughing so hard I have lost my voice :)

23. Whats the worst decision you ever made?

I honestly don’t know I have repressed a lot of shit lmao

24. Whats your favourite store?

Book stores

25. Whats your opinion on abortion?

I am pro abortion but I do not see it as a form of contraception, education is needed the world over on this topic

26. Do you keep a bucket list?

Nah thats too much pressure for me to complete it

27. Do you have a favourite album?

BTS Wings is queen for me still but Ly: Tear is a close second

28. What do you want for your birthday?

Disposable camera or a 3DSXL and animal crossing lol

29. What are most people’s first impressions of you?

Probably that im smaller than they thought and a bit quiet

30. What age do you seem according to most people?

People that meet me in person seem to think im like 28? but im only 23 ghfskghs

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

Under my pillow bc anywhere else and I wont hear my alarm

32. What word to you say the most?

“Oh right”

33. Whats the oldest age you would date?

28

34. Whats the youngest age you would date?

20

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you?

Any kind of office work, which I am down to do

36. Whats your favourite music genre?

R&B/kpop/k-r&b

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

Iceland

38. What is your current favourite song?

Sunmi - Noir

39. How long have you had this blog for?

I think its coming up for 2yrs but honestly I have no Idea

40. What are you excited for?

Finally starting my volunteering placement and of course Persona album

41. Are you a better talker or listener?

I’d like to say both but I lean on listener more

42. What is the last productive thing you did?

Finished an embroidery project that took 23 days to do :’) 

43. What do you want for Christmas?

I have no idea! 

44. What Class do you get the best grades in? 

Geography and Hospitality were my best subjects 

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now?

A Solid 5

46. What can you see yourself doing in ten years?

Hopefully be in a stable job and in a decent house

47. When did you get your first heartbreak?

18

48.  What age do you want to get married?

mid 30s so like 10 yrs time

49.  What career did you want to have as a child?

I wanted to be a cook

50.  what do you crave right now?

Japanese dumplings!! 

This took me so long hahah I wouldn’t feel bad if no one wanted to do this hfdjskfgds

I tag: @glitterjjk @sagksj @cassie-baby @yoonmin-advocate @seokjinlesbian

[kid-crashed]

You know how the Justice League did an event for cancer awareness where they had kids do activities with them? What about Young Justice?

(This is going to involve the animated Young Justice cast because I can)

The idea to interact with charity organizations came from Nightwing. A lot of the younger heroes in the group hadn’t developed a public image yet, and he was always looking for an excuse to interact with kids, and give back to charities. So he gets in contact with a few of the Children’s Hospitals around the US and talks to a few of the nurses to get an idea of which heroes to send to which hospitals.

Khaldur, Zatanna, Artemis, Virgil go to the first hospital. Zatanna does a full magic show for all the kids, with Artemis acting as her assistant. She conjures up gifts for each child, and teaches some slight of hand tricks to anyone who’s interested. Virgil is great with the kids who are feeling restless, and plays a game of hide and seek throughout the ward, specifically ignoring some of the IV stands and the electric pulses from pacemakers so that the kids can think they’re better at hiding. Khaldur is amazing with the kids who are either quieter or more anxious. He mostly sits on their beds and tells them stories of Atlantis.

The second group is Dick, Cassie, and Barbara. All three of them are known for being amazing with kids. Barbara is Oracle at this point, and goes to a ward specifically with kids who have physical disabilities that inhibit their movement. There are now all these kids who are just amazed that there’s a superhero who needs a wheelchair just like them. She sits, with a young girl who has two prosthetic legs sitting on her lap, and tells them all about how having a disability doesn’t stop you from being a hero. Cassie and Dick are both amazing with kids in general. They both designed a scavenger hunt around the hospital by hiding those plastic Easter eggs, each one with a little prize inside, like Green Lantern rings, Robin masks, etc.

Bart, Jaime, and Tim are the third group. Tim sits on the floor and tells stories about all of the different big name heroes. Some of them are serious action packed stories, but others are purposefully goofy. The fan favorite ends up being about the time he and Nightwing slipped a few glitter bombs in Batman’s utility belt, and the hero couldn’t get the shimmer out of his costume for two weeks. Bart is just about on the same wavelength as the kids. He sits and colors with a lot of them, and helps them tape the pictures all over the hallways. Mostly, he finds out what kinds of foods from all over the world the sick kids have always wanted to try, but never would get the chance to, and runs to wherever in the world to go get it. A lot of the kids are scared of Jaime when they first see the Blue Beetle form, and it hurts him way more than he will ever say. But he finds a young Hispanic boy with leukemia, neither the boy nor his family speak much English, and Jaime sits and talks with them in Spanish. He finds out the boy is supposed to have his first surgery soon, and he’s able to calm the kid down and help him relax. Jaime promises to stay at the hospital until the boy comes out of the OR.

M’gann and Garfield spend their entire trip shape shifting for the kids. Beast Boy is the biggest hit. The kids love seeing him as a fully dog, or a dinosaur, and one kid in particular is really excited when he turns into a lemur. M’gann brought “Get Well Soon” letters signed by various different Leaguers and passes them out so the kids know that the biggest heroes in the world wish for them to get better soon. The highlight of the visit though was when Garfield turned into a horse and gave the kids a ride around the premises.

The final group was Conner, Karen, and Mal. Bumblebee teaches a few cheerleading moves to the kiddos, and works with them to come up with a fun routine they can all do together. Neither Conner nor Mal seem like the kind of people who would be good with kids, but it’s actually quite the opposite. Mal brought a football along and plays catch with all of the kids. The football is, of course, signed by both himself, and Victor Stone, which is a big treat. He leaves it with the kids to keep playing with in the future. Conner is amazing at just letting kids climb all over him. He ends up giving endless piggyback rides through the whole hospital. There’s a point where he had one kid on his shoulders, two on his back, one clinging two his left leg, and one hanging off either arm. Some people would have expected him to lose his patience, but he would never do that with small kids, especially not these kids.

At the end of the visit, every child gets a goodie bag with crayons, a coloring book, and some Justice League merchandise specific to whoever the kids favorite superhero is.

[bisexualstokes-archive]

Sheltered Truths (1/?)

Chapter (1/?): Under the Bed Rating: Teen+ Characters: Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Gil Grissom Summary: Between nightmares, underground bunkers and missing persons cases with all too-familiar circumstances, the last two weeks have been plunging Nick into his own private hell that becomes not-so private when things go wrong during a missing persons case that leads Nick and Warrick to an exclusive club that experiments with hallucinogens. A friendship fic.

Read it on A03

The Las Vegas crime lab is bathed in green light. Nobody is present except for a frantic Nick Stokes, circling the hallways aimlessly, unsure of why he’s in the lab if nobody else is.

“Hello? Is anybody here? Warrick? Cath? Sara? Greg? Gris?” He shouts, but there’s no response.

He’s sweating profusely, the air is thin, the glass walls of the lab seem to condense and move closer to him at each turn. He tries to leave through the glass doors of the main entrance, but the doors won’t budge. He tries to leave through the emergency exits, but they won’t budge either. Every time he tries to enter one of the offices or lab rooms, he finds himself back in the hallway. And endless loop. He starts to run, but his progress is slow, as if he were running through water.

He stops to try and catch his breath, finding himself in front of the crime solve score board in the lab, all of the names  at the top of the board are his, all of the cases read “Missing Person.”

Sounds of laughter fade in, coming from the A/V Lab. He runs, not caring who the laughing is coming from, he just wants to see somebody, talk to somebody, to remind him that he’s not alone in this world. As he gets closer, it sounds like it’s multiple people laughing.

The whole team, except Grissom, are gathered around one of the computer monitors, laughing at some silent footage displayed on the screen. Nick tries to talk to them, but no noise comes out of his body. He tries to physically get their attention, poking them, pushing them, but their eyes are glued to the screen. They don’t acknowledge that he’s there.

As Nick finally directs his attention to the monitor, a pale white light flashes on erasing the green glow, and the lab is over-illuminated in this harsh light. On the screen is a man, writhing and wriggling in the confines of a Plexiglas prison.

“Oh, here comes my favorite part!” Warrick laughs, as the man begins to chew something before sticking it in his ears.

Nick watches as the man puts a gun against his chin, the laughter from his teammates intensifies.

“Do it, do it, do it,” they begin to chant. Nick suddenly feels nauseous, tries to place himself in front of the monitor, but he is just shoved aside. He finds himself on the floor, the footage on the computer shows up on the rest of the monitors in the lab, including the one on the wall, which he can just barely see from where he lays.

The team cheers as the man on the monitor shoots the gun--and the last thing he hears is the gunshot before the lab is plunged into darkness, and he sits up--

Gasping for breath, he’s thrown off balance as the surface beneath him is no longer the cold, hard surface of the lab floor, but instead the soft, springy surface of his bed. He wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead and his blurred vision whips past the hand-drawn card from Cassie, focusing on the bright red numbers on his alarm clock. It’s one in the afternoon. He had been asleep for maybe an hour, and he still has plenty of time to rest before going he needs to get ready for work.

He sighs, throwing the blankets aside as he rolls out of his bed and heads toward the window. He had forgotten to open it before going settling into bed. He may as well keep them open at all times, but has investigated too many B&E cases to know better. He touches his forehead to the glass of his window, letting the breeze of hot air flow through the mesh screen against his body.

He falls back onto bed, wondering why Grissom wasn’t in the lab with everyone else in his recent nightmare, but still thankful that he didn’t show up. Whenever Grissom is in his dreams, so are the ants…

He shakes his head, adjusts himself into a comfortable position. He begins to count down from ten, shutting his eyes tight, trying to think about birds, of flying, of fresh air, but the laughter of his co-workers still seems to echo, and his thoughts go back to the crime lab. Maybe Grissom wasn’t there because he was getting the case assignments ready for the night...

“You have a missing person’s case,” Grissom’s voice echoes in his head. “Last known location was a trash run on Flamingo and Koval.”

He’s back in the lab, green light glowing from beneath him, he’s laying on another hard surface, his hands brush up against empty gum wrappers, before hitting an invisible wall. He can’t seem to sit up, but he can see pictures laying around the table in a neat and orderly fashion. He can just barely see the contents, pictures of blood pools, an empty house, children’s drawings, a young girl’s bedroom, a shoe full of cough syrup...

“Any word from Nick?” Sara asks. He looks up, she’s standing next to the table, looking down at him.

“No, he’s still out there searching.” Greg replies, he’s standing on the other side.

“Hey, guys, I’m right here!” he shouts out, but they ignore him.

Sara taps her fingers on top of the seemingly invisible wall above him. As her fingers touch the surface, he suddenly sees that he’s surrounded with scratched up Plexiglas, two fans to his right side, and a light bulb at his feet.

“How long do you think you could last?” Sara asks, looking right at Nick though the question is for Greg.

“I don’t know. Not as long as he did.”

“Hey, have you two seen my fire ant farm?” Grissom’s voice suddenly calls into the room. Greg and Sara look away, and thousands of ants suddenly swarm into the box around Nick. He begins to scream, his heart pounding at the tingling, crawling sensation tickles every inch of his body, followed by pinching, burning, venom flowing into his bloodstream.

He sits up once again, this time immediately bolting out of bed and running to his shower, turning the water on the coldest setting, nearly tripping as he fumbles to get his boxers off. Water mingles with tears as he wipes away the invisible ants as drops of cold water flick at his body. He lets out the air he kept trapped inside his body once he had woken up, and turns the water off.

He slumps against the wall of the shower, staring at the puddle of water that had spilled out onto the floor. He still hasn’t replaced the door to his shower that had gone missing after the first night he returned home from the hospital.

He takes a few deep breaths and walks back out to his bedroom for a new pair of boxers. He glances at the clock, it’s one forty-five in the afternoon. He cleans up the mess in the bathroom and resolves to watch some Animal Planet to calm his nerves. He starts off sitting on the couch, mindlessly checking baseball scores on his laptop as animal sounds drown out the laughter and screaming in his mind. After an hour or so, he finds himself laying on the couch, his head propped up against a Dallas cowboys throw pillow his mother bought him for Christmas last year. He feels himself nodding off during a documentary about woodpeckers, and staggers back to his bedroom through his wavering consciousness. He glances at the clock once more, it’s six in the evening. He still has a chance to get a little sleep before work.

He doesn’t bother to cover himself with a blanket, the second his head hits the pillow, he’s falls into a dark, dreamless sleep.

For what he hopes is a few hours of rest, the world is quiet and dark. All too soon, the darkness fades into green, and the softness of his bed seems to harden beneath him. He suddenly feels cold, and tries to reach out for the blanket he neglected, but his arm hits a wall instead. He rolls onto his side, but feels a sudden free-fall sensation until hitting another wall. He keeps tossing, turning, trying to find space to move freely in, but he’s confined to condensed, green-glowing walls. He wipes away the condensation of the wall above him, and sees a woman standing over him, watching him. She’s wearing a prison uniform, staring down at him, holding a shovel in one hand.

“Kelly Gordon? You got out?” His voice is higher than normal, panicked. “What-What are you doing? Let me out of here!”

“I’m finishing what my father started,” she tells him coldly. She throws the shovel aside, and backs away. He can hear distant beeping sounds, and in her place comes the source of the blaring alarm, a large backhoe that looms above him, dirt slowly spilling out of the cradle before crashing on him all at once.

“KELLY, WAIT--NO--PLEASE! HELP!”

He sits up, and is immediately met with a pinch to his forehead, like he had been stuck with a needle. He blinks as the green hue in his vision disappears, and he’s left staring at the box springs underneath his mattress. He groans, he’s under his bed for the third time this week.

He slides himself out from underneath the bed, using his end table as support to stand up. His heart sinks as he looks at his alarm clock; he’s late for work.