#concerned about it being any bigger thing. most people get manic at some point but for some it IS destructive and dangerous'

[allyouzombies]

I'm aaaall hopped up on my adhd meds and strong coffee and working on digital history project scanning on a day the library's closed (which is quickly becoming one of my Favorite Things) and my brain is spinning so fast and I have been really big on snapchat again suddenly??

So fuckin add me on snapchat (andreyuck31) pls I'm having so much fun constantly posting my cats and shit I do at work

ETA - for real if we're mutuals I'm cool with it! Definitely let me know who you are like in DMs here I guess if I am not likely to recognize your snap username

[meta-squash]

So, last night I had a thought about self-harm (and addiction) and the reaction or framing from the press re: Richey Edwards vs Peter Doherty.

(This went off on a tangent, I’m sorry if it’s a little nonsensical and also I know my opinions are maybe kind of controversial.)

[Blanket TW for discussion of self-harm, eating disorders, and addiction in this post]

My best friend and I were having a conversation last night about self-harm as a coping mechanism and how people who have never self-harmed before don’t understand it and don’t know how to react to it, among other aspects of the subject. Later that got my brain on a different train going in a similar direction but a different destination.

I was thinking about the difference between the media interest surrounding Richey Edwards and Peter Doherty, and how the media framed their struggles and problems etc. (There is a slight difference between the two given that the Manics never got huge in the media and Richey wasn’t around for the explosion of internet tabloid culture.)

But my thought starts out with this: Peter and Richey seem to have done similar types of self-harm in similar amounts, and yet it is Richey’s self-harm that got all the media attention. Richey’s alcoholism and anorexia were not as chaotic or as....public?...as Peter’s drug problems, but it was all but ignored by the media even when he was fairly open about it.

Aside from the original 4REAL incident, which was a complex combination of situationist spectacle, self-expression/release of frustration, and intense message to the industry, Richey’s other moments of self-harm seem to be a more (for lack of a better word) normal level; they seem to have mostly been smaller, shallower cuts or cigarette burns. Aside from the one other recorded incident in Amsterdam ‘94 where Richey cut his chest enough to need stitches, there are no other instances on record of moments at the level of the 4REAL incident. Richey’s moments of self-harm seemed to typically be a more moderate coping mechanism rather than a tendency towards grievous injury. And yet the media’s main focus when it came to Richey was his self-harm and the spectacle of it rather than his lyrics or his other obvious struggles with alcohol and eating disorders.

And it’s interesting to compare that to Peter’s self-harm. I don’t think he’s ever had a moment like 4REAL, but he has used moderate cutting and cigarette burns presumably as a coping mechanism. His “strop” at Brixton ‘04 being the most outwardly dramatic and maybe the closest to 4REAL. But there are plenty of photos or footage of him with visible cuts and/or cigarette burns. And yet it doesn’t seem to be something the press really cared about.

On the flip side, there’s Peter’s addiction and all the media craze surrounding that. (As an aside, I cannot imagine how awful it must have been to have the media obsessing over your drug use while telling you to get better while essentially being its cause.) The press practically documented Peter’s every move re: his drug use and addiction. It was sensationalized and plastered everywhere and this obsessive attention was placed on it.

Which is the opposite of what happened to Richey’s problems. He talked fairly openly about his alcoholism in a number of interviews but rarely was he directly asked about it. Off the top of my head I can’t think of any interview that directly asked him about his eating disorders either, but he did mention some aspects of that in a few interviews (most notably his last ever TV interview for some Swedish channel).

Part of this difference in media focus kind of makes sense. The media picks the thing that’s more dramatic and crazy-sounding and a bigger spectacle. For Richey, it was self-harm, because he started with a proverbial bang by coming out the gate with the 4REAL incident that catapulted the Manics into the eye of the industry proper (despite the fact that he never reached that intense level again). For Peter, it was his drug abuse partly because of its more widespread chaos (drinking alone in your room is not as interesting or glamourous as smoking crack at wild parties, plus a dramatic band breakup draws readers) and partly because of his proximity to Really Famous People (ie Kate).

I guess it just interests me how the media decides which thing is more “concerning” and how that false concern in fact fuels the very thing it pretends to be so worried about.

The 4REAL incident was a shocking thing; it seems as though over the years the remaining Manics have come to acknowledge that that was pretty much the point. Nicky called it an “amazing, fantastic statement” in the 98 Up Close documentary. It’s something that was outside of Richey’s other self-harm because it was very much for a spectacle (JDB does say in the same docu that he was pretty sure Richey had sort of planned it). But none of Richey’s other moments of self harm were as public or as performative. I’d even say his Bangkok chest-cutting was only partially performative, considering how horrific the band considers that trip to have been. But really, his self-harm seemed to be mostly a private, personal thing, a coping mechanism. And yet it was pretty much all the press focused on, ignoring the alcoholism and anorexia that a) were likely actually affecting his ability to function and b) were likely bigger problems that the self-harm was used to balance out. The remaining band have talked about Richey’s drinking and how it affected him and made it difficult for him to function, and none of them ever really talk about Richey’s anorexia but looking at photos of him in 1994 you can really see the toll it takes on him. But the press weren’t interested in that.

And again, similarly, Peter’s drug use was fascinating to the press because it was dramatic and chaotic and an interesting spectacle. But after reading the Books Of Albion etc it sure seems like the press were major instigators of a lot of Peter’s problems and his need to use drugs to cope and/or escape. They ignore his self-harm because it’s not as interesting as his addiction; the opposite of the “mundanity” of Richey’s introverted alcoholism.

The press chooses which problem it’s “concerned” about depending on which one is a more interesting, easily-maintained spectacle. If it can flaunt “concern” in order to goad or stress their victim into doing that thing more, it can perpetuate that cycle: “we’re so concerned about you, look we’ve written an article on your drug-induced antics/your dramatic self-harming tendencies with pictures and misquotes and misunderstanding, oh we’re so concerned we’ve parked ourselves outside your venue and/or house to ask intrusive questions about your problems rather than your art, wait why are you still struggling with this drug/self-harm problem we said we were concerned about you, look we’ve written another article about how you’re struggling and we’re concerned but we haven’t actually asked you what’s wrong or how to help or done the most obvious thing which is leave you alone” ad nauseum.

Plus, these things are always appropriated by the press rather than a request made for clarification from the person. The victim’s candid thoughts about their hurt or their reasons for needing this coping mechanisms are not actually heeded but are twisted round and into part of the “story” rather than taken seriously as an explanation or a plea for the media to fuck off because they’re exacerbating the problem.

And now I go into more theoretical ramblings.

(Side note and/or clarification or...something: I can speak from long-term experience when it comes to self-harm as a coping mechanism etc, but I have not personally dealt with drug addiction so when I’m talking about that, it’s definitely as an outsider. I have friends who are recovering addicts and who I’ve known during their more intense struggles but I have not experienced it myself, like, in my own brain/body.)

Something my best friend and I were discussing in the conversation that triggered this entire thought-train is self-harm as seen by outsiders/people who have never self-harmed or thought about it in any seriousness. (And here comes some more serious discussion, as a warning.)

We talked about how there really isn’t a good argument against self-harm as a coping mechanism. (And I know my opinions here are probably controversial.) Most seem to center around “healthy” coping mechanisms vs “unhealthy” but if it’s your own body and you aren’t hurting anyone else, who’s to say what’s what? The other problem re: “healthy” coping mechanisms (like taking a bath, treating yourself, etc) is that the concern against self-harm seems to be that it isn’t addressing the underlying issue that requires the coping mechanism. But neither does doing some skin care or eating an apple (that is, if the problem is a stressor outside of needing sustenance or being able to do something “relaxing” enough to actually relax). That isn’t to say that self-harm is a good reaction to every stressful moment, but it truly is a very singular type of stimulation and release that is sometimes the only effective method of reacting to and coping with an internal or external stressor.

As a clarification, most acts of self-harm are not to the severity level of 4REAL. Cigarette burns and collections of minor-to-moderate cuts are much more common, neither of which are particularly threatening to the overall wellbeing of the person.

The other thought about self-harm and the reason for the media’s focus on it is the discomfort of and fascination a “badge” of struggle. When you’re depressed and you can’t get out of bed, it’s not like you get up a few days later and there’s a big sign that says “Was Depressed, Couldn’t Move,” or if you feel stressed and overwhelmed so you go drink wine in the bath, you don’t spend the rest of the day with some sort of sign telling other people that you felt bad so you bathed. But self-harm is a personal coping mechanism with evidence attached. And that evidence makes people who can’t understand it uncomfortable. Self-harm leaves a mark which other people are confronted by and they don’t know how to react because they cannot imagine how that can be something that helps. Self-harm is a “badge” of struggle and/or coping--not that it’s a proud mark or anything, just that it’s visible to others in a way that stands out and is singled out. I’ve gone out in public in my pajamas after not getting out of bed for 5 days and nobody looked at me funny or asked me why I looked all rumpled. But I’ve had random strangers at the grocery store ask me about the self-harm scars on my upper arms. Scars are a sign of hurt or stress etc that are visible to others which means they feel compelled to confront their feelings about it and often come up uncomfortable and not understanding and confused.

Similarly, I think drug use/addiction can sometimes be a similar “badge” of struggle, especially if it’s apparent onstage or during various public appearances. It’s something that people outside of it don’t understand. Likely they don’t understand the use of drugs as something other than “for fun.” People don’t understand the depths of using drugs as escape from or coping with (or both) stressors. Raw dogging reality is kind of a tall order if reality is overwhelming and stressful to a degree that’s difficult or impossible to control and/or manage. Not to mention using drugs for coping or escape then can lead to dependency and addiction and that’s a whole new game. Because, you know, that’s the thing: it’s not just about kicking an addiction. If you try to kick an addiction without replacing it with something else, you can pretty easily fall back into it because it’s not just a physical dependency, it’s a way to deal with reality. If you’re trying to go from a using a crutch to deal with reality to straight up raw dogging it without a fallback crutch, it’s gonna be real hard. In terms of a “badge” of struggle I think that use of drugs where intoxication is more obvious or more intense than, say, weed, people are uncomfortable. With a drug’s effects on behavior, I’m sure, but also with the outward signs that the person is obviously using a coping mechanism to deal with stresses or hurts.

In both situations it’s an exposure of this internality that outsiders can’t fully understand or touch. Everyone’s reasons for self harm or drug use are going to be different. The “benefit” that the coping mechanism brings is going to be different for everyone. And it especially means that strangers who don’t have experience with these things cannot fathom them and cannot comprehend them. There’s that desire to understand, that curiosity, (and sometimes an actual desire to help), but no one can read another person’s mind or understand their internality completely, and the visuals of self harm or of drug use are a very intense and forward reminder of that.

And I think those “badges” of struggle are something the media loves to capitalize on, because they can be turned into a spectacle and can be monetized due to outsiders’ discomfort. People watch horror movies or read tabloids because it makes them uncomfortable from a safe distance; these things aren’t happening to them, but another person’s obvious pain/fear/sadness/struggle/etc is just discomforting and strange enough to evoke a dark fascination rather than a total rejection. And the cycle continues as the media capitalizes on their victim’s stress and their coping with that stress, and which then causes more stress which then causes a need for a more intense coping or escaping mechanism, etc.

To bring it back to my original point, the reason the press focused on Richey’s self-harm (despite it being not too terribly excessive or intense) and not his addiction or ED problems, and the reason the press focused on Peter’s addiction and not his self-harm is because of the degree and type of fascination/discomfort those things brought. Richey’s self-harm was interesting enough and obvious enough that they could show lurid photos of his scabs and scars and talk to him about it, but he did his drinking in private and didn’t really cause any sort of scene onstage. And Peter’s drug use was interesting enough and public enough that they could show lurid photos of it as well as collect all sorts of gossip and rumour and twisted-around tales while his self-harm clearly wasn’t as dramatic or fascinating to them. People can read the tabloids and be darkly fascinated by a person cutting themselves up but maybe not by someone drinking at night in their bed (because that’s boring to read about). People can read the tabloids and be gleefully horrified by abuse of class A drugs and the actions/behavior surrounding that but that’s going to be more interesting than a person stubbing a cigarette out on their arm in frustration and despair. It’s all about what can be painted in a more dramatic light. It’s all about what internal things can be made public.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Magnolia

I don’t know much about Magnolia or Paul Thomas Anderson, but I do know that it takes someone paying me to get me to watch a 3-hr+ drama that doesn’t star Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio, and a really big boat. This is one of my mom’s favorite movies which is why she requested it for me to review. It’s packed with a balls-to-the-wall star-studded cast (Tom Cruise! Julianne Moore! Phillip Seymour Hoffman! John C. Reilly! William H. Macy! Felicity Huffman!) and I’m genuinely excited to see how they all fit together. Cause they have to all fit together in some coherent way, right? Well...

Do you remember in Sorry to Bother You when the Equisapiens came out and things just took like...a real turn? That’s kind of what this was like. Whereas StBY pushed a thought to its most extreme, but logical, conclusion, what Paul Thomas Anderson has done here feels like a magician doing a lot of impressive illusions - sawing a lady in half, making a motorcycle disappear, pulling smaller things out of bigger things - and then for his final trick, walking onstage amidst a grand plume of smoke, dropping his pants, taking a gigantic shit, and then saying, “You’ve been a great audience, thanks a lot and goodnight!” It’s not like you can say the experience was BAD. Everything up to the finale was a really great time! But when you’re left on a note that is that bafflingly odd, it kinda colors the way you’ll remember the whole thing.

Magnolia is the story of one long day in the life of 12 people living in Los Angeles who are all connected via an extensive web from acquaintances to married couples to parents and children to paid caregivers and beyond. It’s a day that has the same kind of ups and downs as any other day until it, well, turns into something else entirely. I’m not sure how else to explain it, but if you want to know more, spoilers will be spoiled below.

Some thoughts:

Patton Oswalt cameo! I am a massive fan and thought I knew his whole filmography and OMG how did I not know that he was in this!!

Ok, in spite of my skepticism this entire opening sequence about coincidence had me hooked IMMEDIATELY. Like, this is some damn good storytelling, if this were a novel, I would not be able to put it down - that pull, that’s what it feels like.

Am I the only person whose encyclopedic memory of character actors/roles gets distracted when they see someone from something that is wildly disparate compared to the role you’re currently watching? For example, I had to pause the movie and confirm via IMDB that I did just see Professor Sprout from HP scream “Shut the fuck up!” at her husband while brandishing a shotgun.

Would people really recognize a grown ass man from being a successful child game show contestant? I’ll tell you the answer, no they wouldn’t, because no one realizes that Peter Billingsley (aka Ralphie from A Christmas Story) is the head of the elf production line in Elf.

I knew this was a stacked cast, but holy SHIT this is a stacked cast. If I had $1 for every fantastic character actor I recognize in this, I would have at least $37, and these are people in the film who have maybe 2-3 lines each. It’s a deep bench is what I’m saying.

This makes me miss Phillip Seymour Hoffman so, so very much.

Watching PSH care for and be so compassionate and gentle with his hospice patient, Earl (Jason Robards),makes my heart ache terribly. All of the people who have been unable to perform this kindness, this type of compassionate care for their closest loved ones as they lie dying in isolation of Covid...it’s overwhelming.

OMG I’m counting 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Very Good Dogs in the old man’s house!

I know Scientology is evil and he’s undeniably a complicated and morally grey person. I know all that. But goddamn I just love watching Tom Cruise COMMIT. Particularly when he commits to just absolute fucking sleazebag slimeballs. And boy oh boy is Frank Mackey an absolute fucking sleazebag slimeball.

Related - I know Frank looks like Tom Cruise, so he could get people to sleep with him no matter what, but I honestly feel like as a human being, this flesh suit is WAY more attractive balding and fat in Tropic Thunder than he is in this shiny brown shirt/leather vest/long hair combo.

I’m getting an uncomfortable vibe about these black characters being written by an artsy white dude, because I don’t know any young black kids who want to hang around with cops and offer up information about who committed a murder in their building. In fact, the way all of the black characters are treated in this film - as liars, criminals, the disingenuous “main stream media,” and thieves - feels rooted in some racist ass bullshit. We see a lot of nuance in our white characters, but even in a film that has, shockingly, more than one key black role, we don’t get that spectrum or nuance.

There is nothing I would love more than to learn that Frank Mackey is 1) gay 2) impotent or 3) both. He’s so disgustingly over-the-top misogynistic, it honestly feels like it should all be a complete act.

I confess I am on the edge of my seat trying to figure out how all these narrative threads tie together. It’s compelling as hell, even though half the time I don’t know why these people are having these long, meandering conversations. The pacing feels so deliberate, like a puzzle coming together. There’s real craftsmanship in how every scene is plotted to feel connected rather than manic or disjointed.

This pharmacist is being unprofessional as hell. Judgy McJudgerson, mind your fucking business, Julianne Moore’s father is dying! [ETA: ope, that’s embarrassing, Earl is actually her husband.]

NO THE DOG IS EATING THE PILLS OH NO VERY CONCERNED ABOUT THE DOG.

I think I knew this, but this soundtrack is fantastic. All Aimee Mann and Supertramp, and Jon Brion’s score is this thrumming, anxious thing full of strings that underscore all these nervous conversations, and then it shifts into these low, mournful horns when things start to take a turn and everyone is reaching their lowest points.

I love this interviewer (April Grace) who is taking Frank (Tom Cruise) to task. I think it’s particularly noteworthy that she is a black woman, because the kind of misogyny Frank peddles is rooted in white supremacy.

Stanley (Jeremy Blackman) is breaking my goddamn heart here. I think he and Phil (PSH) are my favorite characters.

Jim (John C Reilly) is the perfect example of how even a cop with the best intentions, with absolute kindness and love is in heart, is abusing his power and sexually harassing a woman he encountered in the line of duty, who is eager to appease him because she doesn’t want to be charged with a crime. This movie reads a LOT differently than it did in 1999.

I normally really love Julianne Moore, but she is a screeching mess in this. I can’t stop staring at her mouth and all the contortions it makes as she delivers every line in hysterics. She’s one of the few weak spots for me here.

Listening to Frank go on his whole diatribe about what society does to little boys to break them and victimize them HAS to be the source of where Keith Raniere got at least half of his NXIVM bullshit. Like, some of these points are word-for-word.

Also if Frank makes as much money as he seems to, there’s no way he would drive a shitty Saturn sedan.

It feels like the common thread of this movie is everyone is terrible and cheats on their spouses, and you should come clean when you get cancer so you can die peacefully. Weird moral, but ok.

If Jim is a cop, how does he not see that this woman he’s interested in (Melora Walters) is coked out of her mind?

Y’know for being a quiz kid, Donnie (William H. Macy) sure is kinda stupid.

I confess I’m not taking many notes throughout this because I’m just kind of sitting breathlessly still watching all these conversations unfold because I am on the edge of my fucking seat to find out how all this is gonna come together.

Secret MVP of this movie is the mom from A Christmas Story (Melinda Dillon) who is giving the performance of her goddamn life as Jimmy Gator’s wife.

Did I Cry? On the surface it appears ridiculous, but when Tom Cruise is having his breakdown at his dying father’s bedside, I admit, that really got me. If you’ve ever been faced with that kind of hysterical, I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening, it feels like the whole world is ending kind of shock and hurt and anger, that’s what the crying looks like.

Are those......frogs?? That landed on Jim’s car? It’s raining fucking frogs???? OK for those of you sensitive to frog harm, this movie is going to take a real hard left turn for you, because I swear that came out of NOWHERE.

Um.

What.

Pray tell.

The fuck.

The climax of this movie - is when literal frogs rain from the sky.

And we finally got resolution about the dog, and the dog DID die, and I’m pissed about it. It’s offscreen but still.

I'm sorry - I know I’m fixating. But how is it possible that I knew about all the characters performing a sing-along to Aimee Mann’s (excellent) song “Wise Up” but I did NOT know that the climax of the film involves literally thousands of frogs falling to their death from the sky? How is that something that escapes entry into the cultural zeitgeist? I’m with it, you guys. I have been Very Online for over a decade, and before that, I read a lot of Entertainment Weekly, and like it just seems that this is something that pop culture really should have told me.

I think the funniest moment of this movie might be the credits in which I discovered that not only is Luis Guzman playing a man named Luis, he’s actually playing himself. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop laughing about it. That was a 189-minute setup to one dumb punchline.

I think I loved this movie but I don’t quite know. The frog thing really threw me. What I’m taking away from it is that even when it doesn’t feel like it or seem like it, we are all connected to each other, always, in ways we can’t see or know. As Wife astutely pointed out, it’s reminiscent of the pandemic - we’re all in the same storm, but we each have our own boats and our own experiences within that storm. And it’s kind of nice to remember that right now, that connection still exists even when it feels so far away. Just not if you’re a frog I guess, cause they really got the short end of the stick here.

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[letterstothemidnightsociety]

Here we are at the end of October, in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020. And here I am, continuing my journey to avoid reality by looking for meaning in nostalgia and TV Hunks. It’s Supernatural!

Alright so we’ve made it to my (possibly/probably) all time favorite quartet of the entire series - Disc 3, Season 1, episodes 9 - 12. For the last few discs, I’ve been keeping things pretty technical in terms of television production and broadcast. But frankly, this sh*t is my jam. All that gooey emotion, all that sweet sweet lore, throw in some man tears and *chef kissy fingers* c'est magnifique! 

Now I’ll backtrack for a hot second here to talk about the filler vs. self-contained argument that I...probably jumbled in my last post. In shows like this, I tend to use “filler” to describe every episode that isn’t arc, but honestly, that’s not fair to a number of Supernatural episodes. The main difference being, is this episode meant to pad out your season or is it simply an episode that can stand on its own two feet? I’d say that’s the case for this entire disc.

First up, it’s Home. Guys, I think I cheered when I turned this episode on. We take our Winchesters, give them some small victories, build up their confidence, and then totally break them down again by sending them back to the beginning. This is not listed as the “official” return to the arc episodes, but I’d argue that Home is where we see a return to the Main Quest. Oh yeah, and Sam finally admits that he can see...what? What do we call these? Death Omens? I think Sam calls them premonitions? Either way, it’s…*shrugs* sure, do what you want. The premonitions do become important later and they’re basically the catalyst for the whole second season and that resolution takes us into the main conflict for the third season, and so on and so on, it’s a whole thing. It just seems like a hecking lot this go around, ok? But he finally admits it to Dean and that’s probably some kind of growth. Dean going back into that house again is also some kind of growth. Of course, he was like, 4 when he swore he’d never go back to that house again? Whatever, I didn’t care. I get too distracted by the fact that DEAN IS CRYING GUYS! LOOK! HE’S CRYING!!

Oh, and one more tie to the season arc - Hecking John Winchester shows up. I mean, he’s all over the episode and I think the most shocking thing we find out about him is that he was, at one point, a business owner?? But also it ends with conclusive proof that John Winchester is a massive dick who refuses to talk to his children. And I’m sorry, I don’t buy your “have to finish it first” excuse, I just don’t. To be clear, I’m not mad at the storytelling choice to do that, I’m mad at the character, which I guess is where it should be. 

I like that this episode builds out more of the world that the Winchesters live in with Missouri Mosely (Not the State!). I like that we see they’re not alone in this very literal fight against evil. She checks back in later in the series and honestly, I love Loretta Devine so I would have watched a whole spinoff show about this character. 

Two things I don’t like about this episode? #1 What genius decided that Mary’s ghost would just be on fire for 20 years? Like, cuz that’s what I am understanding about this ghost. That she is just constantly on fire. And that’s...unkind. 

Mary, who did this to you??

#2 Only a man could have written this episode because no single mom is just gonna LET two rando dudes into her home. 

Listen boys, you’re cute, but I’m a woman with two small children. Hell no you’re not coming into my house. 

Next up is Asylum and this is so good at walking the line between creepy and Spooky. UNlike the Bloody Mary episode, I do not need to hide my face from the screen at any point during this episode. 

Hey look, it’s like they’re brothers or something!

This one is another episode that does a good job building character and the world the Winchesters live in. Like any good procedural, it uses the main conflict to bring out the more important conflict. In this case, it literally brings it out, cuz the ghost is a psychiatrist who makes Same confront all his Daddy Issues. And by confront we mean, take it out on his brother who is the saddest-motherf*cker-I’ve-ever-seen BUT HEY! Salting and burning a body finally works for once in their lives! I love all the cringing that Jensen Ackles does in that scene because they clearly hadn’t figured out what that effect was supposed to look like yet. 

It must have been a real surprise to find out the ghost didn’t light on fire.

Oh and then there’s the phone call! And man, this must have been a bitch of a mid-season finale, cuz this episode aired in November of 2005 and the next episode doesn’t come back until January of 2006 and so you’re just WAITING to hear what John has to say. 

Now wait for two months to find out what he says. 

And of course, it’s nothing. We come back in January to Scarecrow and John has nothing to say cuz he’s a massive dick. Just calling 6 months in to your nationwide search for me to let you know that I’m not dead, but also, I’m only here to send you on another assignment and cause tension. And so the show continues to break down our dynamic duo because the fight they have over whether they should listen to dad or not literally splits them apart. They also introduce Meg as a new and more involved villain for the series. I mean, sort of. We don’t see her again for like, another five episodes. And then again another five episodes after that. So like, I don’t really...know that introducing her as an antagonist...really had the effect they were hoping for?

Is she evil cuz she’s a demon or just because she’s blonde???

Here’s some issues I have with Meg, the first recurring female character who isn’t dead - she’s the first recurring female character who isn’t dead and also, I immediately hated her. I remember watching the episode the first time and as soon as I saw her I was like, oh she’s a ruiner. It was almost a relief to find out she was a bad guy at the end because it was like I was allowed to hate her? To be fair to me, Meg comes on hella strong trying to keep Sam from going back to his brother, so we’re not supposed to like her, but looking back on it now I feel like the perpetrator of some real girl-on-girl crime. Does Meg actually do anything wrong? Aside from leaning real hard on some indie-style manic-pixie bohemian free spirit nonsense, she doesn’t do...anything that should make me hate her? Until, of course, she actively acts as a wedge between our dream team, but before then, I don’t...think she does? Honestly, it could just be me, but I do think that TV has gotten much better at writing/directing/presenting female characters in a way that doesn’t feel like they’re literally shoe-horning in a third wheel. And again, ultimately we are supposed to hate her, I just can’t decide if I was picking up on signals that were intentional or not. I remember having similar feelings when they introduced Joe in season 2, but that’s still far ahead.

I am willing to admit that this might be just me. I will not take back the things I’ve said about Emma Watson though, those are justified. 

And I think introducing more characters is important. It acts the same way introducing Missouri did -it broadens the world. For half a season, our only constants are the brothers. They’re these lone cowboys in a weird, mystical, dangerous wasteland and the villains are more obstacles than actual villains. When the story you’re telling needs to feel bigger than that, you need to do some world building and sometimes that starts with adding more characters. I will say, I hated Meg less this watch than I did on the first one. Or rather, I hated her cuz I knew she was The Worst, not because I felt like adding her to the show was a threat to the storytelling. 

OH! ALSO! The first mention of Dean and Pie! My heart grew three sizes that day! 

The hecking diner won’t serve him so he never finds out!!!

And finally, to cap it all off, we have Faith which is...a surprisingly rough episode? Ok, listen, Dean just resignedly accepting his own demise is like, ugh. UGH. ugh. Buddy. Buddy you are NOT Ok. Like, Dean is so intent on keeping everyone else in his family alive but does not seem as concerned about his own health and well-being and that...just...ughghghghg...I have a lot of feelings about that. 

Listen, some day I will talk about Sam, but it is NOT THIS DAY.

Like, I get that Rev. Jerry Gergich Roy Le Grange is not actually healing people, but he literally tells Dean that Dean has a purpose and he was saved from an untimely death for a reason, and he’s kind of not wrong? But then he spends the rest of the episode stopping Roy from healing anyone else and feeling overwhelmingly guilty that he was saved over someone else. I think out of everything that season 1 has presented up to this episode, this is the most philosophical and thematically complex. There’s the question of faith vs skepticism - can we ever just blindly believe in a good turn? The fact that Dean can’t says a lot about him as a human. Then there’s the question of who gets to decide who lives and who dies? Who’s worthy of salvation and who isn’t? Why do bad things happen to good people and why do good things happen to Dean? I mean, when Dean sees the Reaper coming for him at the end, he knows that it’s in exchange for Layla’s life and he’s just...Ok with that? He doesn’t try to run or fight it, and it’s only because of Sam that he doesn’t bite it. And the end of this episode is just a real bitch slap to the feels because Layla, our Very Special Extra, knows she’s going to die and she knows she missed out on her chance to be healed because Dean was an Ass with a capital A and took her turn (probably). And she’s also just ok with that and it kills me a little bit on the inside. 

Also, Layla is played by Julie Benze from Roswell and Buffy and Dexter and she’s always A+. And Roy was in Snakes on a Plane!

So yeah, not exactly “filler” in the true sense, but ties to the season arc are not as strong as in other episodes. And watching these episodes again I realize just how important they are to the series as a whole. I mentioned Helstrom last week and since then, I’ve finished the season. It’s only 10 episodes, and while I definitely enjoyed it, none of the emotional climaxes felt earned. 

Is how I feel. About the Emotions in Helstrom. That doesn’t mean I won’t watch a season 2. 

When you focus solely on the main arc in every single episode, you miss these little moments to develop character and relationships. When you get to the end of the season where the Winchesters are finally all in the same room taking on the Big Bad, there’s this feeling of satisfaction - you’ve been waiting for this moment. You’ve been waiting for Sam to reconcile with his father. You’ve been waiting for the guys to finally take on this thing that killed Mary Winchester. You’ve been waiting to see what will happen when the quest is over. That’s what makes the character decisions in the finale feel so big and so important, because they’ve been built up and built up for 22 episodes - 7 months in broadcast time. I think it’s harder to have the sort of weight that Supernatural builds in a show that stays so focused on the arc because its season is only 8 - 10 eps. There’s no room for sidetracking to build on the relationships in the show. You don’t have time for it, so you either have to keep character moments smaller (I’d argue MUCH smaller) or you end up with a finale that doesn’t resonate with the same gravitas as you want it to. 

Don’t get me wrong - I know it sounds like I’m ragging on short seasons, but I think a short season can be very effective when it’s done right. I also think a full season of 22 - 24 episodes can be very effective when it’s done right. But I think there’s a fundamental difference in how you tell the story when you have a short vs. a long season. I think TV is still figuring that out as it goes, as writers who are accustomed to long seasons shift gears to tell their stories with fewer installments. But I hope that TV doesn’t completely do away with the more procedural-style/self-contained episodes since those can be a powerful way to connect with your characters. That’s why I’m here in the first place. 

[meat-husband]

Can we get a part two for the realistic bubba ask? Like if he comes around or their next encounter, sumthin like that if you’re up for it?

Okay, I really love how this turned out, except the end is a little eh cause I have no idea when or how to stop writing lol

Edit: Parts One and Three

You haven’t seen any of the Sawyers in months. That wasn’t too unusual, they weren’t much for socializing, but you had a good trade going up until three months ago. You didn’t have much, and they had even less, but both sides had always come out with enough to get by on. There wasn’t a way to survive out here without relying on neighbors for help or trade, which made it all the stranger that Drayton hadn’t come around again. No one else had seen him either, outside of stops at the station, after he had gone around town bartering stacks of dried meat like it was cash. You had since found out that the amount he had brought over to you was only a fraction of what he had taken around town, which made you think there was no way it had been stolen from the slaughterhouse. That amount of meat gone missing would have been noticed, regardless of how they would have managed to get it out without being seen. Something was definitely going on with the reclusive family, and although you didn’t want to get mixed up in whatever it was, you were about to do just that anyways.

It had taken you almost two months to get together enough scrap to fix up your old generator, although usually you wouldn’t have bothered. It was loud and old, and you had a newer one already hooked up to the house, so it was mostly kept around for spare parts. But you hadn’t repaired it for yourself. Things like that were always needed around here, where most people didn’t have connections to the city lines, and you knew Drayton wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to pick one up. Besides, it was too big and clunky for you to move on your own, so he’d have to bring help, which is just what you were hoping for. 

You were out just after dawn, trying to beat the summer heat even though it was already well into the 80s. The old generator had been halfway pulled towards the barn doors, but you couldn’t get it much farther than that. Even that had sweat pouring down your face, and you were in the middle of trying to cool down when the rattling of an old truck came from outside. Quickly, you straighten your clothes and run a hand through your sweaty hair, hoping you don’t look too bad, before stepping out to greet them. 

You’re surprised to see that Drayton isn’t the one behind the wheel, but rather his scrawny younger brother. The other sibling is there as well, the big one you had been hoping to see in the first place, but you’re a little concerned to see that Drayton isn’t here. 

“How’re you doin’ today?”

The brother gives you a wild eyed look, a big grin on his face. It’s an off putting expression on his already strange face, but you smile back politely. 

“W-we’re good!”

The answer is loud and enthusiastic, and you’re just a little bit baffled at how high spirited he seems already. 

“Well… Alright.”

The truck door pops open with a rusty squeak and he steps out, glancing around your yard. 

“Barn’s over here,” you say, pointing towards the run down shed. “Generator is already half out, I just couldn’t get it the rest of the way. You need any help getting it-“

He shakes his head, waving long, stringy hair around his face. 

“Gotta look, uh, l-look at it first.”

You watch him wander into the barn, a frown on your face. He’s definitely… stranger than you remembered, it was no wonder the Sawyers had been some of the first to get laid off at the slaughterhouse. You couldn’t imagine working in a place like that with him running around. 

You leave him to look the old machine over, though you don’t see the point. It’s a piece of junk barely holding together, but it works, and that’s all that matters. Drayton had offered you a stubbornly small amount of credit at the station in return for it, and usually you would have argued over it, but it probably wasn’t worth what he was giving you anyways. 

His brother is lingering in the truck, door still closed and seemingly hiding behind it. His shoulders are hunched and he’s looking down at his lap, a mop of dark curls in his eyes. The sight brings a grin to your face, and you step up to the truck. He hears you coming, his quick glance up showing you a worried expression. 

“Hey, there,” you say with a smile, leaning on the truck door and propping yourself up on the open window. “You ain’t been around here in awhile, huh.”

You get a nervous titter in response, seeing the hands gripping his knees turning white. He had always been a shy one, avoiding your attempts at conversation and hiding behind Drayton. A quick look over your shoulder confirms that the scrawny brother is still in the barn, fussing over something from the sound of it. 

“You’re name’s Bubba, isn’t it?” 

You already know the answer, but you ask it anyways, watching him give you a hesitant nod. You give him your name, reaching a hand through for a shake, but he doesn’t take it. His eyes dart from his lap to your hand, looking a little bit afraid, so you withdraw it, not wanting to be rude. 

“I like your tie,” you say after a moment of silence, watching his fingers twitch up towards it before settling back in his lap. “It’s real cute, you know.”

He mumbles something, and you’re not sure what the words are, but they sound almost flustered, the corner of his mouth tipping up just slightly. Your smile gets bigger, leaning in through the window a bit. 

“You’re cute, too.”

He chokes, looking at you from the corners of his eyes with a red face, fingers twisting together. His mouth twitches up, then back down, then up again, as if he’s not sure how to react. 

“Hey!”

The sudden shout makes you jump, turning to find the brother just a few feet behind you. You aren’t sure how he’d managed to sneak up on you so quickly, but you take a few steps back to put some distance between the two of you. 

“C’mon, Bubba,” he says, reaching forward to pull the door open. “G-get it in the truck!”

Bubba is quick to do as he’s told, lumbering towards the barn with heavy strides. He seems even more nervous to be out of the truck, so you don’t follow when he goes through the doors, standing at the side of the truck with his brother.  

“You, you sh-shouldn’t bother my brother like that.”

“What?”

The look on his face is still just as strange, but his eager grin has turned into a frown, wide eyes watching you. It’s hard to tell from his unusual demeanor, but there’s something threatening about the way he grits his teeth at you, lips curled back. 

“Teasin’ h-him,” he says, waving his hands in jerky motions towards the barn. “He don’t, don’t know when people a-are jokin’ with him.”

It takes you a few seconds to catch on to what he’s saying, but once you do, you let out a laugh. It sounds like you’ve just been given the Sawyer version of a warning off, like a father trying to scare away his daughter’s suitor. 

“Oh, no, you ain’t gettin’ it either, huh,” you say with a smile, remembering Drayton’s confusion. “I ain’t teasin’ him, or being mean. I’m flirting.”

He looks just as surprised as his brother was, his whole body going still and the short, jerky twitches of his fingers stopping. He’s silent, and you would bet this is the most quiet anyone’s ever gotten out of him before, looking like he’s frozen in place. 

“You, uh, might wanna see if he needs any help with that thing.”

You don’t doubt that Bubba can lift the thing on his own, but he hasn’t come out yet. His brother shuffles in place for a moment, jerking his head around before giving you another grin and running off. You can’t help but feel a bit more positively about the guy now, having heard the sharp edge to his voice when he told you off. They’re weirdos, but it was nice to see him being protective of his little brother. 

The bang of the barn doors being thrown open draws your attention, turning to see the brother scurrying back over with a manic look on his face. After a few seconds, Bubba steps out with the old generator held up to his chest, seemingly not affected by the weight at all. You’d have taken a second to admire how much strength that had to take, but his brother beats him to the truck. 

“Y-you oughta come over, f-for dinner!”

You raise your eyebrows at the offer, hands on your hips as you watch him open the flatbed of the truck. 

“Oh, yeah?” You ask, a little suspicious of this sudden friendly offer. “Don’t think Drayton would like that much.”

“He don’t t-tell us what to do!” He sidesteps around Bubba as the machine is dropped into the back of the truck, rattling the whole thing on its wheels. “Ain’t t-that right, Bubba?”

His brother looks much more hesitant, but gives a slow, unsure nod of agreement, eyes on the ground. His face is bright pink, either from the heavy lifting or your previous conversation - and judging by the way his fingers reach up to tug at his tie, you can make a guess at which one it is. 

“Alright,” you say slowly, turning over the idea in your mind. “I guess that’d be okay, I got some free time comin’ up next week. Run it by your brother first though, don’t want him blowin’ up at me when I show up.”

You hear a cackle, watching as the scrawny brother digs a hand into his dirty pocket. Bubba is shifting nervously behind him, and although he’s been on edge ever since they showed up, this time it gives you an unsettling feeling. That feeling proves right when a filthy pocket knife is swung in your face, barely missing your nose as you step back. 

“What the fuck?”

“Y-you’re comin’ with us,” he laughs, stepping around to trap you in between him and the truck. “Can’t leave B-Bubba’s little, little friend behind!”

You glance at the knife in his hand, big enough to do some serious damage if you get stuck with it, and you’re not sure if you’re fast enough to get past him without that happening. He jabs it towards you in a mocking way, laughing when you jump away from the blade. Stuck between the knife and the truck, you know you’re not going to be able to get out of this one.

Well, shit, you think.

[cuthian]

Dancing with a Limp Chapter One

 Welcome to another instalment of this little series. After this one, there is only one more before the bigger piece. There are several timejumps in this fic, but they mostly occur in the second chapter.

I absolutely ADORE Peggy Carter, and I have been itching to bring her in for a while now :D This part in the series will also establish the lives of the rest of the Avengers, beyond Steve's PoV.

Thanks to Juulna for helping me with this :) I love ya, doll.

Much Love, Annaelle

The One Where They All Try to Deal

Dancing with a Limp

“You will have lost someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” —Anne Lamott

ONE

November 1943 U.S. Army base camp, precise location undisclosed, France

Steve

“I thought you were a dream,” Bucky had whispered, confided, once they’d managed to secure their own tent after Azzano, after Steve had relearned how to kiss Bucky, how to touch him, how to love him with his new hands and new body—after Bucky had spent an appropriate amount of time doing the same to him. “I thought I was dying and God took pity on me, allowed me to dream of you one more time.”

Steve remembered he’d made a hurt little noise at that, that he’d tried to shuffle even closer to Bucky, and that he couldn’t fathom the idea of having to live without Bucky.

“We’re safe for now,” he’d whispered. “I’m never letting you go again. Ever. Promise.”

Bucky hadn’t said anything after that, but he’d held on just as tightly as Steve had.

——————

Washington D.C., USA October 10th, 2011

Peggy

Peggy Carter looked over the files Anthony had assembled for her and, for a moment, she felt every single one of her ninety years. She sat on young Nicholas Fury’s chair behind his—frankly ostentatious—desk, a series of classified documents spread out on the mahogany surface before her, each more damning than the previous. In the end, they proved, quite indisputably, that Nicholas Fury himself had signed off on isolating Steve—her wonderful, poor, poor Steve—as soon as they could, in order to ensure he would be “more amenable” to their request to join S.H.I.E.L.D.

Her blood boiled at the mere implication, and she had already ensured—through her various, wonderfully loyal contacts that remained from her days as Director—that heads would roll for this.

She understood that, in their line of business, questionable decisions had to be made, but this… Breaking an operative simply because he refused to join their organization was not the way Peggy Carter had done things, and it certainly wasn’t the way she had taught Alexander and Nicholas to run their organization after she’d retired.

She sighed.

Anthony was pacing behind her, muttering to himself about an issue he had run into earlier when hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files, and the constant trotting would annoy her if it were anyone else but Tony. She did adore the boy, her first godchild, and she knew he could never quite stay still.

“Anthony, darling,” she spoke up nonetheless, turning in her seat to look at him. “I think we have quite enough to nail him to the wall, so to speak. No need for such concern.”

Tony looked at her, wide-eyed and evidently caught off-guard before he shook his head. “There’s something else there, though,” he insisted, a near-manic gleam in his eyes. “JARVIS hasn’t gotten through the firewall yet, but with a little more time, I know we could—”

“Tony,” Peggy interrupted tiredly. He was quite brilliant, her darling godchild, but he tended to get carried away. “They’re a secret agency. I’m sure there are quite a few things still there.”

Tony frowned. “That’s a good point.”

Peggy simply shook her head and smiled, turning back to face the door just as it swung open.

“Ah,” she smiled blandly when Fury froze on the doorstep for a split-second before he stepped inside, letting the door swing shut as though he was accustomed to finding his former director and a wayward billionaire in his office. Of course, she mused, showing up unannounced in someone’s office did sound and awful lot like something Tony would do, so perhaps he was accustomed to it.

“Nicholas. Please,” she said calmly. “Have a seat.”

It’d been some time since she’d last conducted an interrogation, but she found she hadn’t quite lost her touch, and Nicholas—though much older than she remembered him—seemed rather unnerved.

Excellent.

She remembered an idealistic young man, fresh out of the army, willing to fight the injustices of the world with everything he had. He’d actually quite reminded her of Steve. Alexander had too, of course, but only insofar that their looks were almost eerily similar—Alexander, though he preferred to be seen as altruistic and kind, was nothing like Steve in personality.

With that in mind, she did find it quite difficult to imagine Nicholas, of all people, who had fought against injustice and manipulation within the system, signing off on what amounted to blatant emotional manipulation and outright abuse of a fellow veteran.

“Dir—Mrs. Carter… Mr. Stark,” the tall man said, obviously struggling not to show how thrown he was by their presence in his office. “I wasn’t told to expect you.”

She smiled. “That is because I did not have anyone tell you.” She raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the chairs before the desk, while she remained seated in what she presumed was Nick’s own chair. “Will you not sit? I think we have some things to discuss.” It was a rather cheap move, if she did say so herself—an easy bit to establish her dominance, but she had to admit it did work wonders.

Nicholas was, of course, far too experienced by now to blatantly acknowledge he was intimidated by her, but Peggy Carter had spent most of her life reading people who were exceptionally hard to read, and she could tell he knew why she was there.

She assumed he knew she wouldn’t let this kind of slight stand either.

She may be old, but Peggy Carter was not one to be trifled with at any age. She would not let anyone—not even the agency she had built from the ground up herself—mess with her family.

“Now,” she said when he’d—reluctantly, she observed—taken a seat. “I’m sure you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.” She shoved the files towards him, taking a perverse kind of pleasure in the way he scrambled to catch a few of the papers that fluttered off the desk.

She was wildly uncomfortable—living to the ripe old age of ninety had its downsides, after all, and creaky joints was one of them—and in a very poor mood, so it felt good to see Fury struggling to find his words as he looked over the papers with an increasingly inscrutable expression. “I do hope you have a satisfying explanation, Nicholas,” she added, raising an eyebrow. “That is, if you’d like to keep your job, and these papers out of the press.”

“Surely you understand,” Fury finally spoke, tense and lowly. “We have to make difficult decisions in our line of work. Captain Rogers is a tremendous asset, and—”

“He is a twenty-eight year old war veteran,” Peggy hissed. “He lost everything he held dear in the world, and he needed a support system. Genuine help, not isolation so he would be more “amenable” to what you wanted him to do.”

Fury simply raised an eyebrow at her outburst, tilting his head to the side lightly before he replied, calm and clearly measuring his words, “I assure you we did not make this decision lightly. Captain Rogers was in danger of becoming a loose cannon. Our best psychiatrists—”

“—should be fired,” Peggy practically bellowed. Fury looked taken aback, and she took a deep breath to calm herself, before settling back into her seat. “And they will be fired.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Tony stood, smiling lightly when he shot her a thumbs up. “In fact, they’re being escorted out of the building as we speak.”

“Mrs. Carter,” Fury spoke, voice tight and controlled. “With all due respect, ma’am, you no longer have that kind of authority.” There was a tiny little vein pulsing on his temple, and Peggy found herself quite amused that this man—this man, who only had power because she had insisted he take Alexander’s place when he joined the World Security Council—thought he could tell her what to do.

She would have thought people had learned to stop trying to tell her what to do when she founded S.H.I.E.L.D. in the wake of the S.S.R. trying to force her into a desk job after she and Daniel got married.

“I think you’ll find that I do,” she replied succulently. “And, unless you are hankering to be next, I suggest you think long and hard about making decisions like the one you made with Steve again.”

“Oh, snap,” Tony breathed behind her, and Peggy narrowly refrained from rolling her eyes.

While she appreciated the sentiment, it was hardly the time to comment on it.

She kept her gaze firmly locked on the dark-skinned man before her, trying to gauge his reaction to her words. Honestly, he had learned to control his expression in the decade since she had last met with him in person, but there were still miniscule tells that she had learned how to read over her decades of work in espionage.

Her words had clearly hit a nerve, though she was unsure whether he was angry or impressed.

It was, likely, a combination of both.

“Do we understand one another, Director Fury?” she finally spoke, when it became clear the other man was not inclined to speak up anytime soon. While she had originally planned for a much longer conversation, she had no desire to stick around in Washington any longer than she absolutely had to.

Steve was still in New York, with her other godchild and the rest of their ragtag group of friends, and she had waited quite long enough to see him—all of them, truly—again.

Perhaps if she had insisted… if she had not conceded when Becca had told her Steve wasn’t ready to see her yet—hadn’t quite come to terms with the idea of her being ninety yet…

She supposed there was really nothing for it now.

She was here now, and she had no intention of leaving any time soon[LP1] .

Fury eyed her speculatively before he nodded curtly. “We do, Mrs. Carter,” he said calmly, though she could see the silent anger behind his blank expression.

“Excellent.” She smiled pleasantly before she turned in her seat to look at her godson. “Anthony, darling, do be a dear and fire up the jet, yes? I think it is high time we return to New York.” Tony smirked and saluted—the little shit—before he helped her up—a thoughtful little shit—and hurried out of the room.

“It was a pleasure,” she said blandly, heading towards the door without another look at the man who’d tried to orchestrate a mental breakdown for her former almost-lover. “Oh,” she turned at the door and smiled the most insincere smile she could manage. “You might want to expect a visit from Timothy Dugan too. I hear he and the other Howlies were none too pleased either.”

She didn’t have to look back to know she’d caught him off guard.

Perfect.

Checkmate.

——————

Outside Salzburg, Austria, 1944

Steve

“You do realise,” Gabe had said casually, while he and Steve were pouring over the maps to locate their next target, “that we all know what you and Sarge get up to in your tent at night, right?”

Steve had stiffened, and he’d fought to control the unadulterated fear that shot through his veins at the mere idea of someone knowingabout him and Bucky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’d replied carefully, measuring each word painstakingly. “Only thing we get up to is strategy planning.”

Gabe had snorted, and if he weren’t so fucking terrified, Steve would have winced at his own dreadful excuse, but he was terrified. “Hey,” Gabe’d grabbed at Steve’s arm—none too gently—and Steve had realised he was panting, his breath coming fast and harsh, and his head had been spinning. “Cap. Steve. We don’t care. We don’t care. None of us care. We ain’t ratting you out.”

He’d focused his attention on Gabe’s dark eyes, grasping desperately at the sincerity he saw in them. “You don’t care?” he’d whispered. “That we’re—”

“You’re ours,” Gabe had replied fiercely, fingers digging into Steve’s biceps unforgivingly. “We’d give our lives for yours and you’d do the same for us. You got our backs. That’s all we care about.”

“Okay,” Steve had whispered, still dazed and a little afraid.

“Okay,” Gabe had nodded, turning back to the map, and the moment passed, almost like it had never happened to begin with.

——————

Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA October 10th, 2011

Peggy

Returning to New York was far less of a hassle with the convenient use of Anthony’s private jet, especially considering the brief stop they had to make to liberate Timothy from his awfully strict nursing home. She supposed she could understand the orderlies’ reluctance to let the elderly man wander around without proper medical care—he was, after all, a ninety-nine year old man—but it was rather tedious to have to convince everyone they were not going to get Timothy killed on a simple trip to New York.

“They like to pretend I’m made of glass,” Dum Dum grumbled to her as Anthony maneuvered his wheelchair onto the jet, setting him and Peggy up comfortably, side-by-side so they could chat while Tony flew them directly to the Avengers Tower. “I fought in goddamned World War II. I ain’t fragile.”

“Of course you’re not,” Peggy patted his hand consolingly.

It was, otherwise, a rather uneventful flight, and it gave her ample time to consider what to say to Steve when she saw him, although she was well aware that she would likely forget whatever ingenious speech she concocted the second she’d lay eyes on him.

It had always been like that.

Steve had had something about him that drew her in—a sincerity she missed in others who’d tried and failed to follow in his footsteps. Something that had broken her heart, in the end.

She had always known, of course, of his feelings for Sergeant Barnes.

A blind woman would have noticed the way Steve lit up for Barnes.

Yet there had been a faint trace of hope, lingering in her heart, a tiny flame fanned into enduring every time Steve shared a smile with her, every time his gaze lingered on her, and every time he blushed when she brazenly dared to flirt with him.

She didn’t think Steve hadn’t cared for her at all. There was, after all, quite some evidence to the contrary. However, there had been a war on, and the time they had spent together was limited and, as she looked back on it, filled with mostly shallow conversations. She had known only the things Steve had chosen to show her, and he had known only the barest facts she had chosen to share.

Perhaps the spark between them would not have survived peace time at all.

It was a question she would, sadly, never truly see answered, and though she had mourned Steve and what they could have been, she was forced to confront that her broken heart lay far beyond Steve’s death. It was, in essence, a broken heart that originated from Steve’s whispered, “I don’t know how to breathe without him, Peggy,” before the connection had been severed.

Even in death, it seemed, Bucky Barnes had a hold over Steve’s heart that no one could break.

She had not understood the ache he lived with after he watched Barnes fall. She could not have, not truly, not until she had lost Daniel, so shortly after they’d married. Not until she woke up beside Angie, realizing that her wife had fallen asleep and simply stopped breathing, only a few short years ago.

It felt quite impossible, both times, to remember how to breathe without their breath moving in tandem with her own, even though she had not spent nearly as long with Daniel as Steve had with Barnes, and even though she and Angie were never as incredibly close and dependent on each other as Steve and Barnes had been.

She’d spoken of it with Barnes, once. Only once.

It’d been after he’d taken a bullet to the upper thigh on a mission, while Steve was still pacing outside, shouting at whoever would listen that he wanted to be let in, that he wanted to see Bucky, to see that he was alive and well with his own two eyes.

“He loves you, you know?” Barnes had said casually, as though he weren’t pale and sweaty, weak as a newborn kitten after the blood loss. “If you wanted… you could have him.”

She’d been surprised, to say the least.

“Ah,” she’d sighed eventually, having weighed and measured her words for a long time before she found a way to speak them aloud, waiting until Barnes’ doctor had been pulled from the room to attempt to wrangle Steve into behaving before she spoke. “I could have him, I suppose, but I could never keep him. He has been yours, I think, for a very long time indeed.”

Barnes had looked surprised at that, and then wary, as she supposed was his right. It was, indeed, very dangerous knowledge to have, and to share out loud. “He don’t always know what’s good for him,” Barnes had finally slurred, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “He’s a handful, but… ain’t no better feeling in the world than bein’ loved by Steve Rogers.”

Steve had burst in after that, looking rather frazzled and frightened and had honed in on Barnes like he didn’t even realise there was anyone else in the room, and Peggy had known then.

For Steve, there would never be anyone else in the room.

She imagined it was in fact very wonderful, even exhilarating beyond anything else in the world, to be truly loved by Steve Rogers—the man had never done anything in his life by halves, and she knew he would not love by halves either—but she did not think she would ever experience it.

When he was lost to them, Peggy mourned. Mourned what they might have been, mourned the man she could easily have fallen in love with, mourned the friend she had gotten to know quite well.

But she rejoiced, for surely wherever they were now, Steve and Barnes were together.

That, at least, provided a measure of comfort.

Unfortunately, it did very little for her presently.

Nervous energy, the likes of which she had not felt since either of her respective wedding days, curled in the pit of her stomach, filling her with the impossible urge to fidget. It was hardly proper behavior, but she found herself picking at her nails, twirling both of her wedding rings, and bouncing her leg the entire flight to the Tower.

Fortunately, they were awaited by Tony’s two lovely partners and Rebecca, who greeted her and Dum Dum with barely contained enthusiasm.

Peggy had, of course, met with the lovely Pepper and the dapper James before, but it had been quite some time since she had seen the both of them in person, let alone the three partners all together at once. Why, the last time she had seen them, the two men had hardly admitted their feelings for Pepper to each other, much less to the woman herself.

Rebecca—her sweet, darling, second godchild—was the most exuberantly enthusiastic to see her, though Peggy suspected it a mere byproduct of her relative youth compared to the others on the platform. It had also been much longer since she had seen Becca, because Tony made it a point to fly in to see her every few months, at least, and his Pepper Potts stopped by for tea every time she was in the U.K.

Still, she hugged them all, and took her time to greet them warmly, for she had missed them, and it was incredibly easy to divert her nervous attention to the trio before her.

“Uncle Gabe’s already here,” Becca informed her sagely. She gestured vaguely to the large door that led, as Peggy had been informed, to the common floor of the Tower, designed to be used by the entire team. Indeed, when she strained her eyes, she could see the vaguely blurred shape of a man sitting on the sofa by the glass wall.

“We’ve…” Pepper hesitated and exchanged a glance with Rebecca and James before she continued. “We’ve not told Steve you’d be here yet.” She held up her hand to fend off their protests before Peggy could even open her mouth, and she couldn’t help but smile—Tony had chosen well.

“We discussed it with his therapist at length,” she continued calmly. “While he’s doing better, his mental state is still incredibly fragile and unstable. We feared his anxiety would only be worse if he was left to await your arrival. Thor should be with him now.” Pepper glanced to Rebecca, who glanced down at her phone and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Becca asserted. “He’s going to tell Steve you’re here to see him.”

“Is this Thor capable of handling Cap?” Dum Dum groused, wiggling in his wheelchair. “We all remember how stubborn he can be when he’s set his mind to something.”

Becca snorted, seemingly before she could stop herself, and crossed the landing pad to pat Dum Dum’s shoulder. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. Physically, he’s more than capable of taking Steve down, if need be, and he’s one of Steve’s closest friends in this century.”

It was a stark reminder of Steve’s unique situation, but it also warmed Peggy’s heart to see this group of people—so young, in so many ways, while also terribly experienced—care so deeply for her Steve.

“Well then,” she said after a brief, semi-comfortable silence. “Shall we?”

——————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: 

(1)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D

Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

[wtf-taeyong]

Moonlight // Mark

Word count - 3.3k  Genre - angst, fluff if you use the term ‘fluff’ liberally. Warnings - None 

Fantasy!au, historic!au

This is a little epilogue/slightly continuation of my previous Winwin story ‘The Stars.’ I think it’s a little necessary to read that before to understand most of this, but I think you might be able to get it if you don’t?

A yawn tore itself from Mark’s lips and he raised a clenched fist up to his eyes to rub the bleariness from them. It had begun to get chilly in his room, meaning that the sun was rising over the cave system and was getting further away from the side his room was on.

He had no idea what time it was or anything like that, but there was no urgency to get anywhere. Honestly, he knew in his chest that he’d woken up later than he ever had before but that was alright. He hadn’t had to do anything proper since his mentor had left.

Sitting up in his cot, he extended his right wing outwards, then the left, stretching them just as he would his arms up above him. He hiccuped, and groaned, swung his legs over the side and feeling around with his feet for his leather sandals.

They had been a gift, from his mentor, and his heart panged slightly at the thought that he still hadn’t returned home. He missed him, and wondered where in the world his travels had taken him.

Strapping them around his ankles, Mark reached over to his robes and pulled them over his head, securing the belt loosely around his waist and then leaving his room. He didn’t have a door - nobody his age did, but generally his people were moved deeper into the cave system with bigger rooms with doors when they met their mates and decided to settle down - which left him free to peek his head into his friends’ rooms as he walked past.

They were all vacant, as was expecting, but it was still slightly disorientating to Mark to walk to the main hall by himself. Usually, he’d be with Jaemin, or Renjun, or both, discussing excitedly what they would be spending their days doing.

Mark was slightly older than the two of them, coming of age and getting to pick his chosen path before his friends. It was a difficult, troubling decision that Mark had been dwelling over each night since he had turned sixteen. Then, when he turned eighteen, he was relatively confident with his decision.

He was going to be a writer.

That kind of vocation wasn’t as popular within his race and his people, some preferring work that took them outside into the sun, or general work around the cave system to keep the society going. Writers and scholars typically rarely ever left the caves, staying indoors and scribbling away all hours of the days by candlelight. Nevertheless, Mark was excited to start the rest of his life and was pleasantly surprised when he was assigned to Sicheng.

Sicheng was a notorious loner, going against the grain of what one might expect from their kind. His race were the most social beings on the planet, doing everything together - they had no doors for goodness sake - so the first time Mark met Sicheng on the fateful day of his eighteenth birthday, his heart nearly fell out of his chest.

“Are you smart?” Sicheng had asked, drawing himself to his full height and staring down at Mark with an expression Mark could only describe as disdain. “I-I guess so?” “You guess so?” “No, I know so.” “Good. I have no patience for idiots, or laziness. Follow me.”

Never in his life had he ever met somebody so… Rude. Mark was typically met with happiness and smiles, as many had told him his sunshine disposition was somewhat irresistible, but Sicheng was entirely immune to his charms and Mark didn’t know what to make of it.

That was his initial reaction, anyway. In the months since that moment, Mark had broken down Sicheng’s frosty outer layer and was well on his way to becoming a friend; dare he say, a close friend?

But one day, about a month before his nineteenth birthday, Sicheng had woken Mark up in the middle of the night to tell him he was leaving.

“Leaving? Leaving where?” Mark was half sitting up, balancing his weight on his left arm and rubbing his eyes with his right fist. “I don’t know. Somewhere. Anywhere.” His tone of voice was half manic, a desperate tilt to it that Mark had never heard before. “Like, away? In the outside?” “Yes. I need to… Experience what it’s like out there. For all our books and tomes and scrolls, we don’t have any practical knowledge, and I believe that’d be invaluable.” “The All-Father would never allow it, you know this-” “That’s why I’m not telling anybody.”

Mark had been startled into silence.

“An expedition like this… Think about it, Mark, think of the benefits. Think of what we could learn.” “I understand that, but it’s too risky. You know what happened to-” “Yes, yes,” Sicheng waved his hand in the air impatiently, as if batting the thought away. “I’m well versed in what happened before. But it’s different now. I have a plan.” “A plan?” “Yes. I’m going to get caught-” “-That’s madness-” “-And the human will take me directly to their stronghold.” “But at what cost?”

Sicheng was quiet, staring at Mark with a kind of thoughtfulness that Mark was much more familiar with on the elder’s face. At this point Mark had memorised all of the planes of Sicheng’s face so well, Sicheng was the only person that appeared so clearly in the younger angel’s dreams. That was why the tint of desperation, a chronic need to have someone understand and support his lust for more knowledge and understanding of the beings that triumphed over them so long ago, frightened Mark more than anything.

He didn’t know this Sicheng.

“Alright,” the younger relented. “Alright. Go.” Sicheng leapt to his feet, but Mark’s hands darted out and grasped onto one of Sicheng’s. “When will you return?” “As soon as I feel I am ready, little brother. I’ll be back.”

His hand slipped out of Mark’s, and he disappeared from the room.

Almost four months had passed, and while that wasn’t a long time of his dramatically extended life, it was wearying. Mark was pressed for answers on the elder’s whereabouts daily, and Mark was beginning to grow frustrated at the constant squints of suspicion he received.

After all, Sicheng was a prominent figure in society, despite his prickly and antisocial nature. He was a primary educator, his mere presence demanding respect and obedience from even the youngest of them, so it was a great loss the next morning when Sicheng did not appear from his quarters.

Mark was the first to be interrogated, then the rest of the scholars in the cave system, but Mark didn’t relent. If anybody knew what Sicheng had done, there would be no shortage of hunters and trackers willing to bring him home, and Mark trusted the elder enough to come back of his own volition.

He still missed him, though. Nothing was quite the same without him. Mark wasn’t the same without him, as surprising as this realisation was.

“A penny for your thoughts, little Mark?” A smooth voice interrupted his flow, and Mark blinked rapidly. He hadn’t realised he had gotten anywhere, let alone sit down, but there he was in the library, seated at one of the writing tables he had gotten intimately familiar with the past year and a bit. “My thoughts are worth much more, Doyoung,” Mark said, turning his head to face the much taller angel. “Is something wrong?” “I should be asking you. Are you thinking about Sicheng?” Doyoung leaned against the high back of the desk, and Mark swallowed heavily. “I’m usually thinking of Sicheng.” “Yes, I think we’ve noticed. Are you lovesick?” Doyoung pressed the back of his hand against Mark’s forehead, his brows pinched in mock concern, but Mark grunted and smacked the hand away.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have the time for that.” “Good. You know what we’re like.” “Yes, yes, the entire… Monogamy thing.” Doyoung’s brows creased again. “You talk like him.” “Like who?” “Sicheng, you idiot.” “I do not.” “Alright.” “I don’t!” “Yes.”

Mark fixed him with a deadpan look, and Doyoung’s mouth split into a wide grin.

“Besides, it’s actually true. I understand that you’re ever the cynic, but not a single one of us have ever been able to find another, if our only one has been lost to us.” “Maybe we’ve just never tried hard enough.” “I beg of you to not pursue that experiment.”

Mark hummed, looking down at the wooden desk. The surface was worn with years of scratching quills and general activity, wax melted across the top from the stubs of candles lodged into the grooves. Scraping some off with a fingernail, Mark heaved a heavy sigh.

“I hope that Sicheng returns soon.” “As do we all, little Mark.”

Most nights since his abrupt departure, Mark had prayed for the elder’s return. He understood incredibly well the perils of leaving the cave system and willingly venturing into human territory, having experienced the loss shared by the survivors of generations past. Never before had he even entertained the thought of leaving his home, his family, and seeing what the world had to offer for him, but for the first time, his mind wandered out of the caves and into the sky, beyond the seas and above the mountains.

Perhaps, if he kept his wits about him, Mark would prosper out there, with Sicheng. They would lead the new age of living freely, without fear of those that would brutalise them, and Mark would spend his days soaking in the sunlight and feeling the air against his skin.

His childish fantasies were cut short, however, by Sicheng’s unexpected arrival, bringing with him a commotion unlike any other.

The crowds had formed one morning, and Mark was disturbed from his slumber by a very frantic looking Jaemin. Heading upstairs together, Mark felt him before he could see him in the goosebumps that erupted over his flesh and the chill that sunk into his bones. A hush fell over the entire crowd and fear bloomed in Mark’s chest, forcing him through the throng of people, Renjun and Jaemin pushing through behind him.

Whispers and sobs erupted from around him and tears lined Mark’s eyes without him understanding what they were for. He knew that Sicheng had arrived, he could feel him, but wasn’t this a joyous occasion? Where was the singing and the dancing now that one of their own had returned? Something was horribly wrong and Mark didn’t know whether he wanted to find out what it was.

He burst from the line of people that formed a circle around Sicheng, and his eyes were seeing but his brain wasn’t registering. Bile was rising in his guts, a sickening churning feeling bringing him to his knees and all he could do was stare.

They had stolen his wings.

They had savagely, brutally cut his wings from his body and all that was left was… Nothing. Red, bloody, twisted stumps that protruded from his back in the most gruesome way Mark could ever imagine and he was crying for his brother’s loss.

Wings didn’t grow back, so Sicheng would remain tainted for the rest of his life.

“Brother,” Mark was crying, shuffling forwards on his knees. Sicheng was kneeling too, curled protectively around something that Mark didn’t care enough about to investigate, for he was too concerned about Sicheng himself. “Brother, what have they done to you?”

Sicheng didn’t say anything, his frame shuddering as he heaved a great breath, and it was as if the entire cave stopped breathing as he straightened himself up to reveal-

A girl.

Sicheng was protecting a human girl.

A dead girl, Mark realised with sickening clarity. As if this day couldn’t get much worse, suddenly all he could stare at where the ligature bruises that rounded the girl’s throat, and the awkward angle at which her head was balanced on her body.

Hanged.

Shuffling ever closer, questions exploded into Mark’s head, but he didn’t get any closer before the All-Father’s voice boomed across the expanse of the room.

The crowds parted, but Sicheng remained unmoving, eyes staring at the girl but seeing nothing.

“What is the commotion?” The All-Father asked, arriving in front of Sicheng in one sweeping moving. “Sicheng? My son, you have returned?”

His eyes took in the signs of torture from Sicheng’s back, and the girl, but he reacted only minimally, his mouth thinning slightly. A sharp contrast to Mark’s tears and heaving cries.

“I ask us all to give our son, our brother, respect and dignity. Avert your eyes, and return to your duties.” The crowds of being flooded away as if harshly stung, but Mark resisted the pull of the words in order to come slightly closer and fist his hand in Sicheng’s robes.  “My son,” The All-Father said, his massively imposing form crouching down and holding his hands out to Sicheng. “Come to me.”

Like those were the words he was waiting for, Sicheng’s figure slumped over and fell into the All-Father’s arms, curling into a ball. Mark’s hands slid from Sicheng’s clothing, but Sicheng’s hands never left the girls body, bringing her with him into the All-Father’s embrace.

All Mark could think about was how impossibly small Sicheng suddenly looked.

The day passed by agonisingly slowly, the slowest Mark had ever lived through, and all he could think about was how tightly Sicheng held the girl to his chest when the All-Father brought Sicheng into his arms and carried him out of sight. Mark didn’t understand why she was here, or what she meant to Sicheng, but he knew that she must be incredibly important to be brought here after her death.

He wondered when he would be able to speak to Sicheng.

“How are you doing, Mark?” Renjun asked, his voice hushed as he moved his head closer to Mark in order to communicate quietly without risk of anybody overhearing. “Are you faring well?” “No, but I suppose Sicheng is doing significantly worse than myself.” “I don’t understand any of it,” Jaemin chimed in. “Did you see? His… Wings?” “They violated him,” Mark hissed, anger contorting his face. “They butchered him.” “They did, but anger isn’t the way forward. We must all be here for Sicheng.” Renjun reminded them, his words settling deep into Mark’s bones. “Impossible to be there for him when I have no idea where he is, but I’ll consider your idea.”

The two younger boys fell silent at Mark’s uncharacteristic harshness. Deciding it was for the best that they didn’t say anything for the rest of supper, they merely kept their heads down and let Mark stew.

He didn’t know what to think. Would Sicheng be alright? Would he be able to continue living among them? And who was that girl?

Perhaps it would have been better if Sicheng hadn’t come home.

Sicheng found him later, as Mark was lounging on a scarcely used window seat and staring up at the moon. Most of the cave system had shut down for the night, ensuring that no needless light would escape from the windows - using the term very lightly, considering they were just holes dug into the side of the mountain they lived in. They didn’t even have any glass panes, not like the pictures Mark had seen in the books informing his kind of human settlements.

So he liked picture books. He was an adult, he could like whatever he wanted, no matter what Sicheng’s raised eyebrow was telling him.

“Mark,” Sicheng said, and Mark startled slightly. Before he had left, Mark was becoming adept at feeling when the air in the room had changed slightly, signalling the arrival of his elder. Perhaps he was just out of practice; or, Sicheng was lacking a certain warmth that used to attract Mark like a moth to the distant moon he was still staring at. “I’m home.” “You are.” “I have a lot to tell you about my travels.”

His tone of voice was brittle, weak, and Mark was terrified that he was going to hear it crack. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know this Sicheng.

“I’m sure that you do,” Mark said, heaving a great sigh and hoping that Sicheng wouldn’t see the tears lining his eyes. “Maybe tomorrow?” “Mark-” “Brother, I don’t know what to do.” “What do you mean?” “I- I don’t know how to address it. What do I say to you?” “About… My wings? The All-Father said that I’m to stay with my people, no matter what wounds I carry. It was a learning experience, for myself and others.” “Brother, that’s not what I meant.”

Sicheng was silent, and Mark risked a peek at his face, finding that Sicheng’s previously soft features had melted into stone.

“There’s nothing else.” “The girl-” “There’s nothing to discuss.” “Brother, you can’t keep it all in-” “MARK!” Sicheng exploded, and a deep fear settled into Mark’s bones.

Sicheng never raised his voice.

Mark didn’t know this Sicheng.

“There’s nothing. Nothing to talk about.” Normally, Mark would submit to his elder’s wishes and obey him without question, but not today; not after what he saw. He was afraid it’d be an image that would plague his nightmares for years to come.

It was too absurd a situation for him to ignore it.

“I’m your friend,” Mark said softly, turning back to stare at the moon. “Friends’ trust each other, right?” “I- I’m not ready. Not tonight.” Sicheng was whispering, and out of Mark’s peripheral vision he could see that he was drawing in on himself, his posture weakening and his shoulders curling inwards. He’d never seen anybody more defeated. “Not now.” “Okay, brother,” Mark patted the empty spot next to him and Sicheng was slow to take it.

Mark could help but notice that his gait was slightly off, not being used to the missing weight that used to balance him. Mark couldn’t imagine what it was like, having his wings torn from him. His whole skeleton hurt at the mere thought.

“Then I won’t press it. Just know, however, that I’m always here for you, should you need me to be. I’m right by your side.”

Sicheng sighed deeply, and Mark couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked older now, but simultaneously less sure of himself, and Mark was frightened. He’d always considered Sicheng to be a guiding force during any kind of trying time, being readily available to Mark if he had any kind of difficulties, but Mark was having trouble extending the same notion to the elder. Whether Sicheng even considered Mark to be a close friend was a different story, but Mark hoped that he could offer some guidance.

“She really loved the moon.” “She did?” “Yes. She said that it made her feel so small, and yet so free.” “She sounds like a wise person.” “She is,” Sicheng said, the ghost of a smile quirking up one side of his lips before it fell heavily. Mark’s heart shattered. “She was.”

Mark didn’t know what to say that would help Sicheng regain some of who he used to be, but he supposed that whatever it was that Mark loved so much had died alongside the girl Sicheng was clutching onto. He’d just have to adjust to life with this new, quieter and much more damaged version of Sicheng.

He shuffled slightly on the stone seat, his wings fluttering behind him and Mark sighed. It was up to him now, to make Sicheng feel better. Whilst he was brimming with curiosity, he knew that it was respectful to maintain a distance from the subject, but suddenly the girl was all he could think of. Shaking his head slightly, he glanced over at the elder who still had his eyes glued to the moon far above them.

He supposed there was much to be said about the moonlight they bathed in, and how it both made Sicheng’s sorrow jump out at Mark whilst simultaneously smoothing his face of any sadness and despair.

Mark had always preferred the sun, himself.

[edsbrak]

sixteen weeks (chapter 6)

pairing: reddie, side eddie/omc chapters: 6/? rating: explicit tags: college AU, FWB

read on Ao3

Summary: Eddie and Richie are roommates in college, and after the events of one drunken confession they both agree it wouldn’t hurt to start casually hooking-up. Things go about as well as expected.

warnings: still none, lmao, just Richie being Richie

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

*

In the week following their first date, Eddie had been texting Jacob back and forth a good handful of times a day. It turns out he was as easy to talk to both in person and over text. In past experiences, Eddie had dated guys who tended to be either or, and there was nothing more off putting than someone who couldn't hold a conversation, no matter how hot they were.

On day four of their flirt-texting, Eddie had arranged for them to meet up for date number two. For lack of better planning, Eddie suggested the movies, but he'd also wanted to see the movie Get Out for a while now, so he figured, why not kill two birds with one stone? (These days he tries to never use that analogy around Stan).

Jacob looked as handsome as ever as he waited outside the cinema for him. He'd given Eddie another light kiss to his cheek in greeting, to which Eddie flushed greatly and pushed them both inside to reach the air-con and escape the blistering heat of outside, obviously.

And once again, Jacob insisted on paying for their tickets and also for snacks, but Eddie had stopped him part-way to the candy bar with a lip-biting smile.

“I actually bring my own food,” he merely stage whispers, because everyone knows people sneak stuff into the movies regardless of the rules and most staff members couldn’t care less. He opens up his satchel and shows Jacob a hoard of food, ranging from an apple to liquorice to Pringles. Jacob quirks a brow at him before smiling. “What?”

“You are so damn cute,” Jacob laughs kindly. Eddie looks down bashfully before taking it in stride.

“Which would you like? Take your pick.”

Jacob reaches for the apple and throws it up in the air before catching it. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” he winks. Eddie thinks he might be a little bit in love already.

The theatre isn't too packed and they find a nice spot up the back, and Eddie isn't even concerned with back row make-outs because he becomes so damn engrossed in the movie to even remember that sometimes happens on dates. Jacob doesn't seem bothered though, and is content with just resting his arm over the back of Eddie's chair. Eddie does lean into his body more at some point, and the contact is enough to have him smiling in the dark like a love-struck teenager.

The sun was setting in a beautiful orange when they leave the cinema, and Jacob suggests they take a walk down buy the torrens. Eddie fills up a lot of the conversation about the movie and how incredible it was. Jacob barely gets a word in, but appears to enjoy Eddie's ramblings nonetheless.

“Ah, sorry, shit. I'm talking too much,” Eddie stops to apologise.

“No, no,” Jacob assures him with a raised hand. “I love it when people are passionate about things. Makes for interesting conversations.”

Eddie holds onto his satchel strap and proudly smiles head-on. A ping echoes from one of the smaller pockets of his bag, and Eddie makes an apologetic gesture to Jacob before retrieving his phone and swiping it open.

hows it go with mr perfect??

Eddie debates just saving his answer for when he'll see Richie later, but a bigger part of his wants to gush, badly. He begins to type without another thought.

Really good. I swear, it's like the God's heard my plea and sent him down from heaven just for me.

He watches it send off with a woosh and is about to put it away so as not to appear rude in front of Jacob, but Richie replies almost immediately.

if hes ur angel, I can be ur devil, baby

Eddie scowls at his phone, hoping by pure wavelengths alone Richie will be able to feel it. He texts a final See you later, weirdo before returning his full attention back to a patiently waiting Jacob. At some point on the walk, Jacob's hand finds his under the now darkening sky, and Eddie couldn't be happier than where he is right now.

*

He and Jacob continue to text daily after their second (and successful, Eddie would add) date flew by. Finals were now over, and Eddie felt as though he could breathe properly again. It was a weight off his shoulders he was glad to be rid of, and with that knowledge, he could undoubtedly put more energy into seeing Jacob more now that he didn’t have to be married to his textbooks.

Because he and Jacob had yet to actually kiss, on the mouth, and Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He figured it was normal. Not everyone had to rush into these things, right? They’d only been on two dates so far, and Jacob still appeared very interested, so Eddie had no real reason to worry, right? Right. But that still didn’t stop him from imagining quite frequently what Jacob’s lips would feel like against his own. Would they be rough, insistent? Would he cradle Eddie’s face as he did it? Would he gently nip at Eddie’s lips before slowly dipping his tongue inside—

“Hey, Spaghetti Man.”

And of course, the illusion is shattered by none other than Richie Tozier.

“What?” Eddie almost snaps, coming down off the high that was his imagination at its best.

“Damn,” Richie grins. “Jacob still hasn’t given you any, huh? He’s got you all tense.” he says this as he pokes Eddie’s side, fingernail sharp.

“Are you always this interested in the sex lives of people you’re not a part of?” Eddie asks the ceiling.

“Absolutely, it’s what keeps me going,” Richie says as he rummages through some drawers to find something. Eventually he retrieves a new lighter and pockets it. “Nah, I’m just kidding, sort of. Have you at least swapped spit yet?”

Richie, for all he appears to be on the surface, sometimes displays a keen sense into what people are thinking. It scares Eddie, just a little bit. Should he even tell Richie the truth? Or would he simply bug Eddie more on the lack of sexual prowess in his dating life? With a small sigh he finally concedes, mostly from the need to just tell someone about his minor and most likely pointless worries.

“No, we haven’t…” Eddie starts as he exhales air louder than usual. “I know everyone is different, maybe he’s just shy…”

“Wait, wait,” Richie interrupts. He picks up Eddie’s phone and tosses it to him. “I need to see a pic.”

Eddie eyes him. “Really? You’re not just gonna stalk him after?”

“You really need to chill,” Richie laughs and jerks his head towards Eddie’s phone again. “C’mon, if I see his eyes, I can tell you exactly what he’s thinking.”

“I can’t believe this…” Eddie mumbles but complies to Richie’s less-than-ideal demands anyway. He had added Jacob to Facebook right after their second date, for whenever Eddie hated to use up all of his talk and text data. He pulls up Jacob’s profile and hesitantly shows it to Richie.

Richie whistles lowly. “Damn, he looks tall. Is he tall? Taller than me?”

“Maybe slightly,” Eddie smirks marginally, knowing it will probably irk Richie to an extent. He watches him closely, waiting for what, exactly? He didn’t know, but perhaps he was slightly on edge about what Richie might say. He’s swiping through more photos from the looks of it, and Eddie swallows the urge to ask for his phone back.

“Do you think it’s me? Am I putting something out there that somehow conveys I don’t want him to kiss me?” Eddie asks when Richie is quiet for too long.

“Maybe you’ve got bad breath,” Richie offers. Eddie kicks at his shin lightly. “Alright, alright. I’m sure it’s nothing, Eds. Maybe he’s got a three date rule or something.”

“What if it’s some Barney Stinson level ploy?” Eddie throws in, mostly joking.

“Nah,” Richie says with a shake of his head. “I went out with a guy once who didn’t wanna do anything until a few hangs. Sometimes people need intimacy before they can get off. It’s normal.”

“Huh…” Eddie pauses, thinking that option over. He knew all of that well and good, that sometimes a relationship needs to grow before anything else can happen. The guy didn’t seem to have a problem with showing affection, but maybe Jacob was just as apprehensive about putting himself out there, just like Eddie. Maybe this was a good thing. “I guess that might be possible…”

“I mean, don’t take my word for it. Unless I’m right, then I will take full credit,” Richie says and finally hands him back his phone. “You’re hot, Eds. It’d be weird if he weren’t attracted to you.”

Eddie can’t deny the hot flush to his cheeks from Richie’s blatancy. Ever since they’ve stopped sleeping together, Eddie has noticed how increasingly vocal Richie is about his physical appearance. To any outsider, Richie’s crass personality was a lot to endure when first encountered, but as it turned out, once you slept with him and actually started to get to know him, those traits tended to gradually become white noise. It was just who Richie was, so Eddie has begrudgingly accepted his fate.

“It’s strange when you’re actually helpful sometimes,” Eddie says teasingly.

“Well, I was due,” Richie shrugs. “I mean, who knows, maybe the guy’s got a tiny dick and he’s just pampering you up so the reveal isn’t as disappointing.”

“Aaand there it is,” Eddie drawls. “Y’know, after removing the sex portion of this friendship, it’s really quite a burden being around you.” Eddie hopes it’s not too mean, but Richie was the king of trash talk. God, he was definitely rubbing off on Eddie.

“Hey, I’ll have you know it’s totally possible to be friends with me without having sex involved.”

Eddie raises both brows in surprise. He’s not sure whether to make a comment on that little claim, or to save it for another time. Or maybe he was simply reading into it and Richie was joking.

“Also, you just admitted to being my friend,” Richie grins manically after some moments pass. Eddie feels his face twist up, not knowing if he should quickly correct himself. But then Richie steps over so he can pull Eddie into a bone-crushing bear hug. “Hello, my friend whom I used to dick into unadulterated ecstasy.”

Eddie grumbles under his breath as he waits for Richie to be done. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“No?” Richie pulls back on a pout. “Damn, I gotta work on some new material. Clearly my performances aren’t up to scratch, then.”

Eddie refuses to tell Richie that he is, in fact, very good at what he does. The guy didn’t need any more ego boosting.

“Can you write up a review for me, and don’t skimp on the details, okay? Richie Jr always has room to improve.”

Eddie sighs like he’s suffering multiple stab wounds. “I miss Jacob.”

*

So he and Jacob decide to meet up again later in the week.

Eddie would have liked to meet up sooner, but Jacob says he had to help his friend move out of their apartment that week, so it would be best to leave date number three for the beginning of the weekend. Eddie can’t help but fidget from the possibility of Richie being right. A whole weekend to themselves, in Jacob’s now empty apartment? Oh boy, yeah. He was definitely getting some soon and that fact was not lost on him at all.

But he really had no reason to complain. He’d been regularly getting some since his and Richie’s agreement all those weeks ago. It’s not like Eddie was starved for physical affection. But he was starved for affection from someone who actually liked him romantically. That was a whole other ballgame entirely.

He’s almost forgotten what that’s like – to share a bed with someone you might be able to picture seeing yourself with further down the line. The thought has him smiling.

“What’s got you all smiley over there, huh?” Bev asks and throws a chip towards Eddie’s head.

They were all sprawled out across Bev and Ben’s shared dorm room on Wednesday night. It had been dubbed a ‘cool down’ hang by Ben, mostly consisting of eating whatever shit they felt like as movie after movie played unnoticed on their small TV. Everyone was mostly too tired to care, with the events of the past school year finally catching up and rendering them into mindless zombies. Eddie has his legs thrown atop Richie’s lap, while Richie had his head back as he released a cloud of smoke into the air from his cig. Don’t worry; they had windows open and several cans of Febreze at the ready.

“He’s gay – he’s thinking about dick, duh,” says Richie helpfully. And he’s not wrong, Eddie muses.

“Are you?” Stan asks. He’s the only one still with books out as he sits on the ground next to the coffee table. Eddie doesn’t know if Stan is even human.

“Hmm, yeah, I am,” Eddie says. He’s gotten abnormally comfortable with these people faster than he thought he would. “Also love, too. Love makes the world go around, right?”

“Oh, love?” Bev says. She sits up straight from where she was leaning against Ben, a gleam in her eyes.

“Please, don’t start that again,” Richie says.

Bev grins. “All you need is love.”

“But a girl has got to eat,” Richie says, clearly now imitating someone.

“All you need is love,” Bev sings, getting louder as she stands up on the couch.

“She’ll end up on the street!” Richie says back, and Eddie is very confused at this point. None of the others appear to be, though, as Stan and Ben ignore them.

“All you need is love,” Bev sings again, drawing out each word in an intoxicating melody.

“Love is just a game, toots,” Richie blows her a kiss.

“Um, what?” Eddie asks them both.

“Moulin Rouge?” Bev says to him, not really a question. Eddie shrugs his shoulders. Bev and Richie share a look and then just like that Bev is jumping down from the couch and rushing into her room.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Stan says, completely monotone.

“What?” Eddie looks around him before landing on Richie. “What have I done?”

And before Richie can answer, Bev is back and carrying a DVD case with her. “We’re going to watch Moulin Rouge, baby, for you are uneducated and we need to rectify that, immediately.” She says all of this while pointing at Eddie and putting in the DVD without so much as looking at the buttons.

There are still many questions going unanswered here. “Oh, okay. So we’re doing this? Alright then,” Eddie says to no one in particular.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” Richie whispers as the opening shots of Paris fill up the screen.

“So?” Eddie settles back down to get more comfy. Richie ends up using Eddie’s legs to rest his arms on. The room is kind of hot but Eddie figures he’ll just power through it. “There are heaps of movies I’ve never seen. Casa-bla-bla-whatever, never seen it. Pulp Fiction? Nada. Avatar, the highest grossing film ever, and I will never care to see what Pandora actually looks like.”

Richie appears to bite his lip, either holding back a scolding or a smile, Eddie doesn’t know. “How are you real?” he eventually says, and again, Eddie isn’t sure if it’s an endearment or an insult.

“Alright, shush everyone. Eddie, this is one of the greatest soundtracks ever and I need the sweet sound of Ewan to blow your mind away, okay?” Bev says and turns the volume up.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, because he seems to have no other choice.

*

When the movie is over, Eddie finds himself with unshed tears in his eyes, staring blankly at the screen before it returns to the menu.

“That…” Eddie sniffles, somewhat dramatically. “That was amazing. Oh my god, it’s not fair. Their love toppled Titanic’s by a mile.”

“Hey, don’t let Leo hear you say that,” Richie teases as he lifts Eddie so he’s half in his lap like a baby to coddle. Eddie goes somewhat willingly, still reeling from the love that could never be.

“See? I knew you’d love it,” Bev gushes. Ben and Stan had moved around a lot during the film, and Eddie figures they’ve both been forced to watch it multiple times before and now have free reign to skip it.

“Yeah, it was… good,” Eddie says lamely. Richie snickers into his hair. Eddie suddenly wants that – that all encompassing love to share with someone. God, wouldn’t that be nice.

“He has been converted. My job here is done,” Bev nods.

Eddie smiles at her. And then he remembers- “Hey, you guys?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you all like to meet my other friends, Bill and Mike? Maybe sometime next week, maybe? Before everyone officially leaves for summer break…” Eddie ventures, subconsciously settling back into Richie and feeling him pinch Eddie’s leg.

“Hey, yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Bev says, and Ben and Stan announce their agreements from across the room where they’re currently playing Chinese checkers, it seems.

“Oh, cool,” Eddie says. “They have their own place, so we could all go there? Mike is of age so he can actually buy us drinks.”

“Hell yeah, I like him already,” Richie says.

Eddie retrieves his phone from his pocket and pulls up his conversation with Mike. “I’ll let them know. Just a heads up, they’ll probably want to adopt you all and feed you kale smoothies or something.”

“That’s the opposite of a problem,” Bev says before patting her stomach. “Lord knows I need some green in me.”

“Why is it the first thing I think of is the Grinch giving it to you doggy style?” Richie says.

“What the fuck?” Eddie sputters.

“Richie, you’re such a turd, oh my god,” Ben calls over. “Also, stop picturing my girlfriend having sex, thank you. If you’re gonna do that then at least include me in the background handing out mints or something.”

Bev is uncontrollably laughing at this point, and soon enough Eddie finds it’s hard not to catch the giggles too. Stan says something about needing new friends.

*

Now that finals were over, Eddie has been dreading the day for when his mother will make her scheduled call to ask him when he’s coming home.

There’s really no where else for him to go, unless Mike and Bill don’t care for him to crash at their place for months on end. Although, Eddie would rather not have to suffer through hearing their loud as shit sex through the walls anymore. Speaking of sex, he hasn’t responded to Jacob’s last text, since he was ducking into the shower earlier when it came through.

Hey, would you want to go out tomorrow night? I figure since it’s the weekend now..

Before he gets a chance to chicken out, he sends it and locks his phone like it was on fire. Now bored, he looks over at Richie reading a volume of One Piece on his bed. Eddie bites his lip in contemplation.

“So… I asked Jacob out tomorrow…”

Richie turns a page. “Yeah, and?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. He knows Richie is fucking with him. “And… I need your help… again.”

Richie raises the book higher, probably to hide his grin. Eddie makes a frustrated sound and Richie finally acknowledges him.

“Eds,” he leans forward and cock his head. “Just be yourself, yeah? Or, you could just do what you did with me.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know,” Richie waves a hand around flippantly. “Get totally shitfaced before asking me to put my dick in ya. People appreciate bluntness.”

Eddie laughs despite himself. Suddenly, his ringtone echoes throughout the room, and simultaneously both boys turn to look at it. Eddie draws in a breath before flipping it over to see the caller. It’s just his mum. Dammit.

“Hi, ma,” Eddie says quietly.

“Eddie,” his mother replies curtly. She’s never one for small talk. “When are you coming home?”

Eddie closes his eyes. “Soon. In a week. I just have a few shifts left at work to cover. I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“Okay,” Sonia says. If there’s one thing Sonia will not protest to it’s Eddie’s job. “I will drive down and pick you up. Have all of your stuff ready, okay?”

“Yes ma,” Eddie says, nodding despite her not seeing.

“Okay. Kisses.”

And then she was gone.

Eddie releases a deep sigh and shakes it out. Richie is watching him closely.

“Overbearing mum?” he asks.

“Kind of,” Eddie says lowly. “Also detached mum. Judgmental mum. Doesn’t really understand me mum and doesn’t want to.”

“Hmm,” Richie looks at his lap. Eddie’s phone pings.

Hey! I’d love to see you tomorrow! What time?

And the text should have Eddie feeling good; should have him feeling excited. But like a lingering slap she won’t leave his mind, and suddenly scenarios of Jacob meeting his mother manifest and he can’t help but feel remnants of his mother’s shame crawl up his throat and sink their claws into him. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Richie giving him a small smile. He doesn’t say anything, but Eddie understands. He begins to type.

How about 7? Maybe at your place, actually? We can just hang? :)

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for Jacob’s response.

Good idea! Having a quiet night in sounds pretty good right now. X

Eddie laughs, feeling tingly all over. “He added a fucking ‘x’. Oh man.”

Richie punches his shoulder lightly. “See? Honesty is key.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie mumbles. It was Thursday now, so he just had to make it through one more day.

*

Jacob’s place really was quite sparse now that his roommate has moved out.

Eddie leaves his bag near the front door, its contents including his toothbrush and a spare pair of boxers. Just in case, obviously.

“What would you like to do?” Jacob asks. It sounds casual enough at this point in time, so Eddie figures maybe later things will get a chance to heat up. “Luckily the TV is mine, and the couch, or else we’d be left with just Spongebob Monopoly.”

Eddie laughs. “I love Monopoly. We could play that?”

Jacob grins. “Really? I hear it tears families apart; marriages have ended.”

“Well, good thing we’re not married then, huh?” Eddie asks. It wasn’t meant to sound suggestive, but it sure comes out that way. A spark flashes across Jacob’s eyes.

So Jacob leaves to get the game while Eddie grabs himself a glass of water after Jacob tells him where the cups have moved to. He downs the entire glass before smoothing out his pants, and walks back into the living area to help Jacob set it all up. Eddie insists on being banker, claiming it’s his birth right. Jacob makes no protests and chooses the thimble as his piece, but then places the hat on top of it.

“It’s Thimblana Jones,” he explains. “I did it all the time when I was a kid.”

“You dork,” Eddie snorts. “But, fair. Harrison Ford was a looking back then.”

“Definitely,” Jacob says, not taking his eyes off Eddie. Eddie feels his heart rate getting louder.

So they play the game, mostly goofing off with it at first, only as more and more properties were being bought Eddie can’t help it when his competitive side shows through. He hoards all of the cheaper sets, so he can get hotels on the board quicker. An hour passes by and things were already heating up. Playing with just two people was a lot better than, say, five, since he never has to wait long to make his strike.

“Ha!” Eddie yells triumphantly when Jacob lands on a hotel for the second time in a row. “Pay up, sucker.”

“Oh man,” Jacob groans as he goes through his rapidly disappearing money pile. “Are you sure there isn’t some…” he pauses for effect as he looks at Eddie. “… other way I can pay it off?”

Eddie flushes, hard. Why was flirting so fucking great?

“Perhaps…” he says with purpose. There was something buzzing between them, something palpable. It was sending shivers down Eddie’s spine. “What were you thinking, exactly…?”

Jacob pretends to think it over, now looking down at the board. He ends up flicking one of Eddie’s hotels and it clatters away on the floor like the final pin dropping.

“How dare you,” Eddie says, not even caring.

Jacob smiles, his eyes landing on Eddie’s lips. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

Eddie can feel his insides quaking. This was it – this was the moment.

So with determination he slides the game out of his way, and with a shallow breath he slowly begins to crawl forward until he’s in Jacob’s space. Jacob’s hand finds its way into Eddie’s curls, their noses almost touching, and Eddie hasn’t felt this scared and excited for something in a while.

“Pay up,” he whispers between them.

“With pleasure,” is all Jacob says before he’s lifting Eddie into his lap and slotting their mouths together.

Eddie moans instantly, his hands shaking and pulse racing as the feeling of being wanted envelops him like a warm greeting.

They part long enough to begin removing clothes as they walk the short walk to Jacob’s bedroom, and Eddie grins with the resolute closing of the door behind them.

Who’d have thought all it took was a game of Monopoly?

*

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[wanderbitesbybobbie]

REAL TALK: Inside a Bipolar Mind Amidst a Pandemic

Three nights ago, I sent an e-mail to my psychiatrist. The e-mail went this way…

Hi, Dra. Belle. How are you? I hope you’re doing well and good and most of all healthy. I’m doing OK, with all the Covid 19 things happening. I just had 1 breakdown so far which I would really like to discuss with you on our next consult if there’s any slot available. I was scheduled for April 6 appointment, but if there’s any slot left for May, I would gladly take it. I’m not that anxious at the moment as I’ve been trying to avoid stressful news. Over all, I’m OK, except that I find it really hard to sleep again. Probably because I’m just at home, and I don’t have that much activities compared to my usual routine. I do cardio exercises, I write a lot for my blog, but because there’s longer time to rest, I really find it hard to sleep at night. I keep waking up with the body twitches again, and because of lack of sleep I’m usually irritable. I badly need to take Clonotril again. However, I can’t seem to find your latest prescription of Clonazepam (Clonotril), I’m not sure if there was one issued last March. I tried to show Mercury Drug the Feb 3 prescription which has been unused, but they said it’s already expired. They said, they will accept E-Prescription, so I have to ask my doctor for it. May I please request another copy of the prescription for Clonazepam? I still have my Quetiapine prescription and I was able to use it, I just dunno where I placed the Clonazepam. I know you always hand me 2 prescriptions every time. 1 for Quetiapine and 1 for Clonazepam. I’m just not sure if I misplaced the other one, or if I forgot to get a prescription for it last time. If it’s possible, please send it here on my e-mail. I only have 1 left in my stash and I’m a bit panicking because I can’t find the latest prescription. I attached here the photo of the February prescription. Thank you so much. Hope to hear from you soonest. Keep safe and God Bless.

I stood in front of the counter at my local pharmacy. It took them around half an hour before they were able to dispense my medication. Though my psychiatrist have issued the latest prescription, the pharmacist had to call the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency to verify how legit my papers were. Yes, it’s a usual practice. One of my medications is a controlled drug, and it is heavily regulated by PDEA. So I waited for the pharmacist until someone from PDEA answered their call. I kept calm. There was nothing I could do anyway.

SURVIVING THE QUARANTINE

It has been a month since the government decided to put the entire Luzon (northern part of the Philippines which includes Manila) on a community quarantine. All movements are limited. Mass transportation has been stopped. There are checkpoints everywhere. People from the private sector were asked to work from home. The government is badly trying to flatten the curve. Covid-19 has been winning for the last months. It has taken over the major economic centers of the world, USA, Italy, Spain, United Kingdom, China, Japan, it did not spare anyone. It took the rich and the poor, the old and the young. As of this writing, there are 2,215,167 Cases in the world, 149,676 Deaths, and about 560,672 has recovered according to Worldometers Info. It does not look good, wherever angle you would look at it.

I honestly don’t know where I stand, but I have a lot of things in mind. It’s 2:15 AM. If you would notice, most of my articles are posted at wee hours like this. Why? BECAUSE I HATE SLEEPING. I have recently discovered this during the time of this pandemic. I hate it when the clock strikes at around 12 midnight, that means I have to put myself to sleep again. Sleep is essential I know, but for someone like me who has a massive trouble sleeping, it’s not a pleasurable process. It comes with my disorder. My brain is hyperactive (manic) at this time. I am not like a normal person, who simply lies down in bed, tuck themselves comfortably in, and instantly falls asleep. I have to take heavy medications to put my relentless active brain cells to shut down. I have to wait for hours until they take effect. If sleeping is a dilemma for me, the same goes with waking up. It takes the same amount of effort to put me to sleep to be able to get me up to function.

But conversely, I am somehow liking the quarantine. It gives me so much time to be away from my tiresome daily hustle. I don’t have to go out everyday for work. I don’t have to wake up early to get multiple things done in a day. I don’t have to force myself to deal with people. I wake up, prepare breakfast, watch Netflix, prepare food for lunch and dinner, take photos of the food I make, maybe write for my blog, watch more movies, send some replies to client inquiries, and then prepare to sleep again. It has been my routine. Sometimes, I do the laundry, clean the house parts by parts, insert some cardio exercises every other day, give my dog a bath, run through our supplies and make a list of what needs to be restocked. It’s on repeat, sometimes I even lose track of what day it is. Some days I go on a grocery run to buy stocks for 2 weeks. The long queues had never been my problem as I have a disability ID allowing me to go on the priority lane. Then again, I have always thought about the people around me. Some, computing their budgets while they read-through their grocery lists. Some, fidgeting on their phones, maybe posting rants about the unbelievable lines they had to go through just to get inside the supermarket. I never experienced any of it, and for the first time, I say thanks to my disability. My PWD ID itself is a powerful immunity. I am thankful that I wouldn’t have to wait in line, as it would definitely increase my exposure to the virus. I am at high-risk, I am asthmatic, with so many deficiencies (according to my last lab results) and I’m taking medications for my brain. There is little chance for me to survive it, so I am taking extra precautions. But because of Covid, I became thankful for a lot of things. Things that never mattered before the pandemic. I am thankful that supermarkets are always restocked with supplies. People wouldn’t have to worry about scarcity. After all, that’s what the President promised. “We have enough food and supplies.” I am thankful I could drive my car. I wouldn’t have to carry heavy supplies from Point A to Point B with the absence of public transport. I am thankful for God’s grace and that we have enough. I am thankful that I can share and I wouldn’t have to cry for help and rely on the government. This pandemic has made me grateful for so many things more than ever.

Somehow, I am surviving the quarantine. I managed to endure with only 1 anxiety breakdown. I cried my constant worries away all my what-ifs. I was angry, I was worried, I was stressed. But at that time, my anxiety was less of a concern. There was a bigger predicament lingering throughout the globe and that was to stay at home to avoid the virus. I know I have to cope by myself, mainly because a trip to my psychiatrist would potentially expose me to the virus. My medications kept me stable and I am functioning well (so far, so good). When boredom strikes, I turn to writing and cooking. I have known my disorder for more than a year now, and it is clearly triggered by stress. A pandemic like this is an obvious trigger. I know I have to carefully eliminate things that would cause me to react.

REACTING TO SOCIAL DISTANCING AND ISOLATION

But there’s always a downside to every situation like this. As I walk inside the supermarket, I watched how people behaved like dormant zombies slowly pushing their carts. Except, they don’t have any human triggers that would make them agitated. With the quarantine going on, only one person per household is allowed to go out. They become the “tributes” as they brave the great outdoors to restock their supplies. Social distancing has been implemented. No one is talking to each other as they keep a safe distance from one another. Everyone wore their “gears” of protection. Wearing a face mask is the new norm.

10 minutes of this for someone with a major anxiety disorder can easily trigger a meltdown. Isolation stimulates sadness and depression and reduces the feeling of optimism. That is a fact. How do I know? Because I have experienced this first-hand. I always thank the people who take their time to read what’s on my Disability ID. “Mental and Psycho-social”, meaning I can go from zero to maximum breakdown at any given time. Bipolar Disorder (depressed or manic) can sometimes be activated without any clear external factors. Therefore, I cannot be left alone for a long time.

GREATER DANGERS ASIDE FROM THE VIRUS

I am lucky because somehow, I can still control my thoughts and my moods. Fortunately, I have not gone hysterical in public (yet and I hope not). My history of breakdowns have been in the corners of my house or within the walls of my room. Crying on the train or in the bus in Sydney does not count. I wasn’t hysterical. I have been applying everything from my therapies, from breathing exercises on how to calm down and talking to the people around me. I air out every feeling and emotion whether it’s happiness, sadness, excitement, fear, or whatever that comes in between. I still have a full-stock of my medications. Also, reading and writing has been my outlet. My extremely active mind has been converting somewhat manic thoughts to productivity, hence my multiple blog entries. I have a lot of things to say, so much in my mind, but I was taught in therapy that not everything needs a reaction.

Having a look around, there is no lucid conclusion with what lies ahead. Everything is not as stable as it seemed to be. No one was prepared. Everybody, including the most powerful are being challenged. It has become inevitable. But you know what greatly affects the world that seems to be unforeseen? People like me, diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, are facing additional challenges. According to Psychology Today, only 2.5 % of the population share these challenges: MOOD ELEVATION AND FULL BLOWN MENTAL BREAKDOWNS. 2.5 % of the world is Bipolar, and God knows what kind of cognitive and behavioral efforts for stress management we undertake amidst a crisis like this. Let’s take everything into consideration, not only Bipolar Disorder, but the list of other Mental Disorders can go on and on.

What is equally concerning is the amount of people suffering from anxiety even without having a proper diagnosis. The pandemic has brought this upon us. More people have become anxious. For some reason, I find myself very lucky. I was already geared with coping mechanisms before this happened. What happens to those who cannot manage?

Looking into the vast expanse of uncertainty and seclusion leaves people to mull over things that could possibly transpire in the future, at the mercy of their confused train of thoughts. The world feels further away, with everyone having their own sets of worries. Fears become louder. It has become a very unhealthy environment.

General access to uninterrupted screen time increases the pressure on the mental health even more. Social media, the news, anything that frequently suggest or conveys to your conscious or unconscious mind that you might be in danger are considered “threats” to your sanity and causes more fear. Leaving our vulnerable minds bare to a steady stream of these keep us all in an anxious mode. The accumulation of stress-triggers to our brain can develop more pessimistic thought patterns, and unnecessary emotions towards our current circumstances.

I am reaching out to all my fellow Mental Health Advocates, and to everyone who can possibly read this post. These are indeed out of the ordinary times for us. As we come to the point that we impose measures to protect our physical health, how about we do the same for our mental health? Try to listen to ourselves in a deeper context. Remember, we don’t have to go through this alone. Seek help if you must. You might be required to keep a safe distance from people, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that we have to disconnect.

KEEP CALM, KEEP SAFE AND MOST OF ALL HEALTHY, NOT JUST PHYSICAL, BUT MENTAL TOO. YOU ARE ALL IN MY MIND AND PRAYERS.

With Love From Quarantine,

    REAL TALK: Inside a Bipolar Mind Amidst a Pandemic was originally published on WanderBitesByBobbie

[intergalactic-zoo]

I saw "Justice League" last night, and...it was fine. 

Spoilers ahead.

After rewatching "Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice" in preparation (the post for which will be up as soon as I have time to edit it down from 8,000 words), I was ready for "Justice League" to be another overwrought, self-important muddled mess in the vein of the previous Snyder films in the series. And the shine's come quite thoroughly off the apple for me with regard to Joss Whedon, both as a filmmaker and a person. So I didn't have high hopes going in. And I expect that "Justice League" benefited considerably from those lowered expectations. 

But that's not really a bad thing. The DCEU up to this point consists of one great movie and three that range from the bad end of mediocre to actively terrible, so having one that's just all right comes across as a triumph. There's an oddly old-school feeling to "Justice League," reminiscent of superhero movies from before the Marvel Cinematic Universe took hold of our cultural imagination, and I strongly suspect that if I rewatch "Green Lantern," I'll have a similar response to it. "Justice League" feels like it was made in 2008, for all the good and bad that entails.

Since I actually felt pretty positively about this, let's start with the bad: the CGI is frequently laughable. Steppenwolf always looks like he's in a computer game cutscene, and a lot of the fight scene special effects have those rubbery, over-animated character models that never quite look or move right, reminiscent of the opening to "Avengers: Age of Ultron." Even some of the greenscreen effects look oddly cheap, like they're from a not-particularly-recent TV show. Even Cyborg's human face frequently looks plastic, and I don't know why. And yeah, Henry Cavill's upper lip is often distracting. 

It's nice to have jokes in the film; one thing I didn't really notice about "Batman V. Superman" until I saw this is just how humorless it was. Alfred got a couple of wry comments, and there's the interaction between Batman and Martha Kent, but otherwise it is all Very Serious Business. At least "Man of Steel" managed to break up the tension with some levity now and again. That said, there are a lot of jokes that just don't work, from the bit where Flash is laying on top of Wonder Woman at super-speed to Batman's "something's definitely bleeding" gag. 

Flash is fine, I guess, but it's interesting to me just how far afield we've gotten in our adaptations from terminally square crew-cut Barry Allen. Like, it's nice to have a tacit admission that Barry Allen is about as interesting as old wallpaper paste, but if we're going to change his character so completely, why not just have a different guy in the suit? Anyway, he's a decent enough character with his upbeat, manic personality, even if he looks like a total doofus when he's running, and even if he feels like Bart Allen-by-way-of-Zach-Braff than Barry. Also, his costume is real bad. 

Superman's return is handled fairly well; I think tying his resurrection into Fourth World technology is a simpler and more sensible solution than the one from the comics. His post-resurrection fight with the heroes, which was never really explained beyond "he's confused," felt really forced. And that bit at the beginning about the car keys, ugh. 

The score was unmistakably a Danny Elfman production from the second note, and that in and of itself isn't a bad thing. I like Danny Elfman. I even liked hearing the old Batman and Superman themes weaved occasionally throughout the movie. But the fact that he did that kind of showcases a problem with the DCEU up to this point. Hans Zimmer is fine, and the Wonder Woman theme is genuinely amazing, but in order to include iconic character themes for Batman and Superman, Elfman reaches for scores from 28 and 39 years ago respectively. I'll give him a pass on Batman, since that's Elfman's theme, but somewhere in the two Superman movies he scored, Zimmer really should have tried his hand at making a new Superman theme for his new Superman. 

Of all the DCU elements adapted into Justice League, what came out the worst was the Fourth World material. Everything interesting about Steppenwolf, the Parademons, and the Mother Boxes was stripped down into Generic Alien Baddie, Inhuman Cannon Fodder, and Generic MacGuffin. There's nothing interesting about any of them; it's one of the things I think feels most like those older superhero movies, like making Dr. Doom a guy with metal skin and lightning powers and Galactus a big cloud. It's especially annoying with the Allspark Mother Boxes, which have no intelligence or allegiance, but are just three cubes of magic that will turn the world Apokoliptian if they come together. I at least like how Steppenwolf went out in the end. 

Edit: I forgot about the Boom Tubes! It's the only part of the Kirby stuff that worked, and holy crap did it work. I got a real thrill the first time we saw a Boom Tube open.

I'm glad Cyborg changes his look up toward the end to be a little more distinctive, but frankly I wish we could take a few steps back in terms of how much of Cyborg is mechanical. These days, he's down to just a head, and that's just a step or two away from him being Robotman or Metallo. Let the kid have some flesh, DC. 

Oh, and there's one scene of all the heroes hanging out together in the hangar that feels like it was deleted from one of the Avengers movies. 

All that aside? Just about every major character had a coherent arc; Batman learned to trust other people, Wonder Woman became comfortable with leading people into battle again, Flash got a real job, Aquaman learned to be a team player, Cyborg learned to accept his new situation, Lois Lane got back to telling real stories, even Ma Kent got the farm back. 

And Superman? Granted, his arc in this movie was more about going from dead to alive, but I can't tell you how nice it is to see Henry Cavill finally get to play Superman. Real, Dan Jurgens-ass hairy-chested smiling civilian-saving Superman. Seriously, the moment he stops in the battle, hears people in help, and rushes off immediately to save them? That's the Superman I want to see, the one who puts saving lives over beating the bad guy (or brooding on a mountain) every day. 

And I appreciated that Batman made saving civilians and hostages a priority as well, that we see every hero in the movie save some innocent person's life. That's important, and you'd think it would be easy to do in a superhero movie, but I've got a couple of previous films in this series that suggest otherwise. 

"Justice League" is not a perfect movie by any means. It's not even a particularly good movie. The things it does well have been done better in other movies. The things it does poorly represent the worst of the two directors whose visions went into making it. This is a movie that doesn't concern itself with having something bigger to say about superheroes or the world, it just tells a very straightforward story about superheroes fighting a bad guy and saving the world. 

And I am just fine with that. 

[pixistarjem-blog]

Strange Magic

Chapter 1: Rebel Rebel

"You got your mother in a whirl

She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl

Hey babe, your hairs alright

Hey babe, lets go out tonight

You like me, and I like it all

We like dancing and we look divine

You love bands when they're playing hard"

Fuck it.

Say what you like about muggles, you can't argue that they make better music than us. That in itself is it's own strange kind of magic. This year Sirius was on a mission to drag Hogwarts into the 20th century, even if he had to do it on his own. He was going to get the student body to listen to decent music, not the tripe their parents did.  

The past year had been a bit shit to say the least. Culminating in being kicked out of the Black family abode the night he had arrived back from his fifth year at Hogwarts for being a blood traitor. Sirius had spent the holidays with the Potter's, when he wasn't at yet another festival getting wasted on muggle drugs, shagging randoms and generally having a helluva time.

"What the fuck is this wank?" Asked James as he entered the room Padfoot had taken residence in.

"Bowie, man, show some respect." Sirius turned from the window fag hanging from his mouth unlit. He was good looking and he knew it. With his shoulder length shaggy black hair, lithe body and manic energy he could pretty much get anyone he wanted, especially with those smouldering grey eyes of his. "There's a muggle festival at Knebworth this weekend – let's go. It'll take you mind of Evans. Pink Floyd are playing, it'll be immense. You might actually meet someone who'll pop that cherry of yours."

James frowned. He was still pissed off at Snivellus for getting him into trouble with Lily. Snivel deserved everything he got for calling her that word, mudblood. Lily was Snape's oldest friend and he'd sold her out. It didn't mean he didn't feel regret about the way Lily responded to the incident. She had a lot in integrity and empathy, far more than James did himself. He huffed and flung himself on to Sirius' unmade bed.  

Sirius flopped next to him. "Come on, Prongs, we'll have the best time. You could develop decent taste in music, that'll help you out with the girls." James rolled his eyes.  

"I don't think my chances will be helped any if I'm sharing a tent with you."

"'Course it will, I'm magnet for muggle chicks."

James coughed, Sirius was pretty sure it sounded like wanker.

"Plus with that undetectable extendable charm I have on the tent, it's big enough to host a party for thirty people. Trust me."

"Bet Moony and Wormtail would be up for it." Mumbled James warming to the idea.  

"Fuckin' hate being under age. We could just send a patronus to the other Marauder's. Now I have to actually write letters and send an owl. It's utter bollocks." Grumbled Sirius grubbing around for quill and parchment. Letters wrote Sirius took his owl, Ziggy, from her perch and tied them to her legs.  

"On the plus side, mate, at least we learn to apperate this year." Said James still lolling on the bed.

Sirius snorted "This year might not be an utter waste after all..."

***

"This is muggle music?" Shouted Peter with his fingers in his ears, over the sound of Jumpin' Jack Flash.

Sirius rolled his eyes and continued to move to the music with the crowd. James and Remus seemed to be having an ace time, they had two girls on of their shoulders and were pretty pissed. Sirius himself was bombed on some weed he'd scored. The weekend so far had been wicked, especially when he'd watched Moony crowd surf to The Who and Pete had finally come out the closet by snogging that fey looking bloke whilst tripping his tits off on acid.

The Stones hand finished their set and the crowd was milling about as they waited for Pink Floyd to finish off the festival, it was then he spotted Marley McKinnon. Sirius would notice her anywhere. Her wild light blonde curls, skinny frame and goofy grin always got him, not that he would admit that to anyone. He had never seen anyone from Hogwarts at any of the festivals he'd been to that summer. He felt a new found respect for the girl, who was blatantly off her face and enjoying the filler music between sets.

"Where's Padfoot off to?" Said Remus as Sirius wandered away.  

Marlene had her eyes closed and was getting her groove on to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds when someone hugged her from behind.

"What the actual fuck!" She squawked turning to deck the person harshing on her high to find Sirius beaming down at her. "Holy shit! What's a knob like you doing at a muggle festival?" Marley smiled in surprise.

"Taking Potter's mind off Evans." He said holding her tiny hips, a broad grin breaking out on his lips. "Who are you here with?"  

Looking about Marlene couldn't see either Lily or Alice she seemed a bit bewildered. "Um, Evans and Milton. They were here..." Sirius didn't want to her to get upset and have a bad trip, so he took her hand and dragged her over to the Marauder's.

"Look who I found, dudes." He said pulling Marley in front of him.

"No way!" Lupin and Pettigrew exclaimed. James pulled out of the snog he was partaking in mid-action. On seeing McKinnon he quickly scanned the crowd before visibly turning pale.  

"Fuck sake, James. Lily doesn't care who's face your eating." Marlene grinned on seeing how uncomfortable he was. Potter may have felt unhappy that one Lily's best mates had seen him snogging some random. He did, however, notice that Black had yet to let go of the sylph like teen's hand and that his smile lit his friends face in a way he hadn't noticed before. He exchanged a knowing glance with Lupin.

"You joining us for the main event, Marley?" Enquired Remus.

"Can't wait. It's why I'm here. Pink Floyd are amazing." She was almost vibrating with anticipation. Sirius skinned up and offered her a toke on his joint, which he then passed around the group as Pink Floyd began their opening number. He indicated that Marley should get on his shoulders. She climbed on.  

The pounding music seemed to fill his heart as their bodies moved as one. The other Marauders didn't hold back, dancing through every number with enthusiasm. Sirius felt the joy of sharing something he loved with his friends. Pink Floyd ended their set to screams for more from the crowd.

Marley was safely back on the ground. "I'm going to head back to the tent to see if I can find the other two."  

"We'll walk you." Chimed Sirius and Remus. Marley smiled. She didn't fancy walking back to the tent on her own this mashed. The group walked through the festival following her lead chatting about the most ridiculous thing they had seen that weekend.

"I saw some muggle bloke dressed as a fairy, holding a stick with a star on the end shouting 'shazzam' at passers by." Said Moony giggling at the memory.

"I found some poor chap stuck down in the cesspit after a bet with his mates that he couldn't actually fit down the hole of the toilet." Peter laughed  

"There was that group of very hairy, burly guys who looked like mini Hagrid's dressed in wedding dresses." Added James. The group laughed helplessly.

"I was wide awake last night, the others were asleep. I was skinning up in front of our tent when some ancient naked dude walked past with the biggest hard-on you ever saw, and a giant grin plastered on his face. I had to hide in the tent! I thought I was going to die laughing." Marley's legs gave out, she had to sit down she could hardly breath just thinking about the memory. Tears rolled down her cheeks as laughter racked though her body.

"Nooo!" The boys chorused, Marley could only nod.

"See, I told you. It was so worth coming." Crowed Sirius pleased with himself. He pulled Marley to her feet, his arm round her shoulder. They walked for another ten minutes before Marley spotted her tent, laughing at more of the Marauder's antics. As she pointed, two girls ran over.

"Thank fuck we found you!" Shouted Alice slurring slightly as she reached the gang. Lily stumbled into a very pleased James who held her up as she looked at them blearily.

"You know, when we found Marley I didn't think she would be the most sober of the three of you." Said James with concern. "It explains a lot."

"Never mind me, I got us some Marauder's" cried Marley.

"Fuck the boys! I got us more booze" shrieked Lily holding up a nearly full bottle of vodka

"Well, I'll drink to that." Laughed Remus taking the bottle from her with a wink, as Sirius danced provocatively. They moved towards the girls tiny tent.  

"I hope it's bigger on the inside." Moaned Pete.

Marley slapped him on the arm "Of course, it is. I'm not a complete amateur."  

Once through the opening of the tent, you came into an open living space with a small kitchenette, off that a sleeping area you could easily sleep 5 people in. The floor was filled with comfy cushions, the sink had a weeks worth of dirty cups and plates in it.

The teens flopped on the floor in various states. Lily falling over James in a tangle. The vodka was passed around along with a joint. Marley sat on Remus' lap earning him some side eye from Sirius. They talked of their summers. Finding out what everyone had been up to. Alice had done some Saturday work at Fortescue's. Lily's parents had made her take a typing course "in case Hogwarts didn't work out" earning a collective groan of 'muggles'. Marlene had done factory work to pay for a summers worth of festivals and drugs. Remus smirked when Marley reeled off the list of festivals she had been to. Sirius then dominated her attention as he'd been at the same ones. "How come Hestia didn't come?" Asked Remus. She was always with the other three girls.

"Her dad found out she was on the Pill and grounded her for the rest of the summer." Complained Alice. Remus had always had a soft spot for Hes.

Lupin had spent a pretty lonely summer at home with his parents occasionally seeing the other Marauder's. Peter said he was working shifts in the Leaky Cauldron as a glass collector. Only James and Sirius had the funds to have a summer filled with acers of free time. Talk turned to going back to Hogwarts.

"Merlin, term starts in two days. We're going to be a right mess on the Express." Said Alice feeling her hangover already starting. This drew a communal groan from the group. Alice noticed that Lily was being particularly quiet despite her proximity to her least favourite Gryffindor. "You know, James, just because Lil's has passed out on you doesn't mean she likes you." Potter was trying to reign in a look of delight, as he ruffled his hair to make it messier than it already was.

"Her dribbling on your chest does not count as an exchange of bodily fluids, mate." Added Sirius looking at the inebriated pair. James gave up being upright at that point, carefully leaning back to embrace both his drunken stupor and Lily.

Pete suddenly fell forward comatose having downed most of the vodka to himself. "He could never hold his drink." Commented Remus. "Good job there's enough weed to go around."

Alice and Remus began to talk about herbology, a subject they both found interesting. Marley moved to snuggle next Sirius as she found the subject too dull to focus on in her mashed state. The two chatted in to the night about muggle music and who was the best live act. Sirius thought Black Sabbath, Marley the Stones. Black couldn't believe his luck running into her this evening, he felt like he'd downed a bottle of Felix Felicis. The four talked into the night before falling asleep where they sat.

[burndownthehousetonight]

(Me and @tinyredartist realized that this had to be a two-part RP story because this was just BEGGING for more story and DAMN am I happy with how this all ended up :D)

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

The king had answered a call from Fiona at a very late hour. He had hoped it was a booty call. It was not.

“She probably just warped out with Terra on a date… Her purse still there? Check her wallet for a gold ID card… It's there? That’s usual, she usually takes her permit everywhere…. Did you check her room?”

This was urgent. Aria was never one to just disappear, especially not when she was needed. He got up and started getting dressed into his day clothes. Fiona wasn't jazzed about calling the king again, but if anyone else was going to listen, it was going to be him. "Many times." Fiona was tapping her fingers on the guestroom dresser furiously. "She wasn't there to pick up Faolán from the bus this afternoon. She never missed it before. I don't know, she didn't leave a note like I asked." She threw open her dresser again. Shirts and pants, all neatly folded. "I can't find anything on the girl! And she wasn't here earlier to see the window repairmen come, so the company had to delay again, and there's still the hole in the window...!" Aria's art supplies rattled against each other as Fiona slammed the dresser with her fists. "She didn't even tell Fao... or he's not telling me something." But he was asleep, and it was too late to ask. “You don’t think Castillo would…. No. He’s mad, not stupid… Double check every window of the house, then call Terra. She’s probably with her. I'mma call manic, see if he knows anything… When was the last time you saw her?”

He was dressed now, and considering setting up a spare room for Fiona and Faolán. He merely opened up the door to air the place out. “Fiona, this isn’t like her. I’m… Worried, although that’s the mildest way to put it.”

The broken window was more broken than before. Shards of glass had fallen into the living room, and a bit of blood stained some of the shards. The curtains were moved too, and everything was just slightly out of place. She spoke as she knelt down to examine the new cracks in the window. "Early this morning, she took Fao to school." Most of the shards fell outside, probably scratching at least one person on their way down and indicating it had been hit from the insite. It wasn't a pinpoint kind of crack like a bullethole. More like something with a broad surface had been smashed against the window. She lifted one large shard in her hand, the bloody point fitting perfectly into the ovoid shatter. It could have been- No, it couldn't right? She stood up and imagined a scenario. How tall was Aria? She reached her hand around the back of this imaginary figure's head and moved it swiftly towards the window... Someone had gotten in. She began to panic, how, where, when, why?! This was supposed to be airtight, what fault had there been in her plans?! And what about Fao... Fao? Fiona's voice cracked on the phone. "Scourge?" Her attempts to hide the crack in her voice failed. "What hotels are there in your city?" “Several but since the weather is so nice, most are booked with tourists. Why? Is something wrong?” His gut dropped suddenly, and as hard as he tried to hide it, his voice took the same kind of tone.

“Someone got in, didn’t they? Someone took her, didn’t they? That’s it, I’m warping you to the castle, get Faolán ready and I’ll text Manic. Aria may only have been a minor target and we don’t know who or what these people really want.”

He kept the line with her open, his heart pounding in his chest. The first text he sent was to Castillo and Manic, in the long unused group chat.

{Emergency. Aria's missing. Get to the castle ASAP.)

The next text sent was to Terra, whose phone Fiona would hear buzzing in the bat's jacket pocket. Terra's jacket? Why was this still in her closet? She could worry about that later, Fao came first. "Fao? Fao, we have to leave." Fiona nudged her son awake, getting a groaning wake-up from him. He'd look to his side to see his backpack, stuffed with clothes, toys, and his medicine. "I was sleeping..." He groaned, pulling his sheets and trying to go asleep again. "Fao, it's dangerous here. We have to go!" She said. She moved her grumbling, annoyed son until he was out of bed. Fiona helped him put on his backpack and moved him into the main room, where another suitcase had been hurriedly packed and left. Fiona waited to give the all clear, instead going back to Aria's room and finding the source of that noise, the phone from her partner's pocket. Terra's pocket knife and medication were there too, the urgent text from Scourge the first notification on the phone.

{Please tell me you and aria are okay.)

Judging by the scratches and pull of the sheets, one or both of the girls were dragged out of the bed by the attackers.

Scourge waited impatiently for Fiona, or for Manic to answer his text. He attempted to leave his room, but had to lean heavily on a chair as he grabbed at the band aids on his chest, hissing in pain. He almost fell on the way to the dresser, a mere ten feet away from his bed. The guards outside his room entered to check on him, and the king was assisted into a chair to rest. “I’m fine.. I'm fine.. Call the captain of security, I want this place on lockdown. Only I get to choose who enters aside from staff.”

Upon trying to get up, a small argument with a nurse ensued. The result was a compromise the king was not happy with.

“Fiona, you ready?” He asked, trying to limit his pained breathing. "Yes," Fiona said, intentionally leaving out the bit about Terra's phone. It could wait until they were at the castle. She didn't want to talk to Scourge too much, anyways. "Open the warp IN our apartment." The van was already getting on the highway, Scourge driving and Manic in the passenger seat. "You haven't talked in a while, you telling me he just MEANT to text you?" Manic shot back at Scourge, his fear leading into anger. "If he didn't want to text me, he wouldn't have." Scourge reponded. "Give kingy the news." Manic just complied, hoping things would go TOO badly this time around. {On our way. You think Fiona did something to them?) Scourge sighed and tossed the warp open in the hallway. It opened next to the sleepy child, who was ushered through by his mother.

Faolán would be too tired to notice the king, but Fiona would. The nurses were fussing over him and he sent them away. The shining wheelchair he sat in was a little concerning and added to the bandages that made him look in worse shape than he actually was. He was a little pale and a little shaky, but healthy. He texted the boys back as he helped Fiona pull the luggage through, much to the protests from the nurses.

{No way. Aria, and possibly Terra were taken from the apartment and she’s worried about Faolán. Sergio knows to let you in. Just come upstairs, I can’t come down)

“The room I set up for you two is in here. You two can go to bed while the boys and I figure this out.” "Sure," Fiona said, not adding the normal thank you. She was too worried to think about being snubbed out of the conversation. Someone had gotten through her security. Was this meant as a threat to her... or even, to her kid? Fao was out almost immediately when he got into his makeshift bed. Fiona, however, had a harder time sleeping. She would take a long shower, unpack their luggage, talk business over text, but nothing helped. The fox was used to Fao being scared and needing to sleep by his mom, but she wasn't expecting to need to sleep by him for the same reason. Scourge and Manic had to drive all the way to Scourge's city. The normally two hour drive was only shortened negligibly by Scourge's reckless driving, and the whole time was spent exchanging texts. Message after message of Manic asking for reiterated details in the hopes Scourge would say something new, some new clue he'd overlooked. But there was nothing he could go off of, and he was starting to think the king was getting annoyed. When their agonizing drive was finally over, the sight of Scourge back at the castle was surprising, but the two approached Sergio as if nothing was wrong. Sergio didn’t welcome them, and stopped the green hedgehogs. “The king is not well. Any physical altercations will be handled by me this time, and do not have his empathy. Are we clear?”

The bull was bigger than them both and meant business. Once he was sure they were threatened enough, he let them in.

The king had been wheeled downstairs and into the war room, where he had set up a small base of command and had, with Fiona’s permission, sent photographers to survey Aria's room and the broken pane of glass. The portal was open beside him as he sat waiting.

“I don’t want trouble today. I need a list of any enemies that anyone here has, including Fiona, Aria and Terra.” Neither of the two had ever been anywhere near the war room, and were surprised by how serious the castle felt all of a sudden. They both agreed not to mention not being fans of Fiona themselves. "You're gonna need a lot of paper," Manic said. "Fiona's businesses are all really dirty. She's trampled over so many people, pretty much anyone she's met would have something against her." "So we're looking for someone who'd wanna get Ari?" Castillo asked. "No. He place is too high security, you don't just break in, they had to know who Fiona was. And I mean, she had a ton of people..." They started off their list of Fiona's enemies, as well as her businesses. It almost seemed like a joke how many businesses they were naming. The casino itself, the surrounding hotels and businesses, black market weapons and stolen goods sales, security for other high-profile illicit figures, and plenty of talk of violent and sexual businesses. The list didn't have and end in sight, and tacking on the constant threats to anyone who tried to fight against Fiona's power, or even any of her businesses, only made the list keep ballooning up. “Okay, we are going to be here a while… Let’s narrow this down. Who knows the address of the apartment and that Aria was there?”

The list was shortened to about 8 people, all of who worked under Fiona as the security guards for the apartment. The king discounted them completely. “It wouldn’t have been any of them, they could have taken aria at any time if that was the case… Or they would have just gone after Faolán.”

The king wheeled himself to the whiteboard he had set up and wrote out the guards names. Thinking some more. “This doesn’t make sense… But why else would anyone go after Aria?” "Look... You're getting somewhere," Manic said, walking up to the board and grabbing his own bright red marker. "If they wanted Fao, they would have gone in when he wasn't at school. Whoever they were, they were targeting Ari. She's only been there a week, the only people who'd know would be keeping a close eye on Fiona. And there aren't many people who'd have that kind of power there..." A few more names were sketched out. Underlings of Aria were immediately crossed off the hurried list, leaving a few leftover names. "There's supposed to be this woman named Pansy who has a whole drug operation there, but no one knows where to find her, or even if they're a she. Uh... Maybe Czarna, that guy she laid off? I mean..." Manic scratched his head. "No. The only other guy who could know was this guy, August. He was running this huge cheating operation, but he's behind bars." Scourge glared at the board from where he sat on the desk. He hadn't looked this uncomfortable around them since they first met. "Pansy's our only good lead, and she doesn't exist," Scourge grumbled. "We need someone with a motive." He balked before speaking to the king directly. "Did anyone hate Terra?" “Not that I know of. Really, we aren’t close. Even if they did, they wouldn’t go after her at all.”

He wheeled over to a stack of pictures that had just been set on the table and showed them the photo of the beside drawer. A handgun with the safety on, as well as a few magazines.

“You guys don’t think… There’s no way that..” He let the thought hang, looking between the two of them.

“Rosolio is dead, right? Like, for sure? Because we can add her to this list, or anyone who liked her. It's a short list, but maybe useful. I’ll have the courts bring us her file in the morning.” "It's the names, ain't it?" Scourge asked. "Rosy and pansy, could be a coincidence, could just have some bouquet of assholes." "It has to be a coincidence. A whole building fell on her. The remains of hers they found were cremated, and I sure as hell don't think a ghost could kidnap them." Scourge glossed over the photos they had for something he could go off of. Scratches in the sheets, shattered glass, and the single bullet hole in the bedroom, devoid of blood and stuck in the wall. "Don't need a police file. That woman had her mitts on me for years, I can get you those names right now." “Hmm… Speaking of Rosy, I may have Glare or Aria's brother called in the morning. We could always use another brain or two-"

The king paused at the second comment, rubbing at his wrists gently. Seems like Manic had hit a sore spot. "You’d be surprised what a ghost can do… Did Aria say anything to you about anyone bothering her?”

The king turned to Manic specifically and waited for an answer, looking through the other half of the photos while rubbing the bandages over his chest to help soothe the pain.

“Do everything you can. We need to get them back” "She said everything was going fine." Manic shrugged. She didn't sound like she was lying, either, I think this came right outta nowhere." Scourge was jotting out a few names, which Manic was quick to scratch right off. "No, he's in no-zone... she got captured for distributing after the whole rescue..." Just as quickly as most of the names arrived, they were slashed off. "Dude, don't hold off on getting more people in here," Manic started to say as he altered Scourge's lists of suspects. "We both wanna find Ari too, every second counts." "Glare and Rosy won’t be back in town until morning. But maybe I could call her brother up… I’d just rather he not assault me, I’m already broken enough as is.”

He dialed a number on his phone and rested his head on the table, sighing. When the phone was picked up, the king shifted uncomfortably. “Hey… Damian… Uh… You seen Ari around lately?”

One anger filled phone call and warp ring later, and Aria's older brother was sitting in the way room with them, son strapped to his chest on a baby carrier. Of course the toddler babbled and reached for Manic and both Scourges, vaguely recognizing the colors. And the four kept talking and arguing as the earliest hours of the morning kept flailing by. Manic eventually started sitting to the side, watching over the toddler and helping him sleep. "Don't worry, little dude, we're all gonna be alright," he assured the sleepy child. "...But YOU didn't spend two years getting screwed over by her goons!" Castillo was currently arguing with Damian. He wasn't keen on either of the two in the room, and right now, it was anyone's guess who he would be disgruntled at next. "I saw who she talked to, I know all these assholes. If it was any of her mooks, it would be Bobtail! Why the hell would Chrissy still be doing shit for her, she didn't want to be in this business, either." "Aria is a literal money pit. You could go almost anywhere with her powers, especially if you don’t care about her limits. Banks and jewelry stores would be two minute heists. Chrissy is the only one with priors like that!”

Damian’s sources were all of the police documents scattered around the room. While the two argued, nurses had laid Scourge out on the couch to tend to his incision. No one wanted him to get sick again.

“What do you think Manic?” The king asked. He grimaced as the wound was disinfected, but said nothing about why he had surgery. "I think little babyface here needs a new diaper," Manic said as he lifted up the toddler. "I'll find one somewhere, or... something." If there were windows in the room, they would have seen that the sun had started to just barely tint the sky red, and a night of nervous shivering instead of sleep had started eating away at Manic's body. "Yeah, but hear me out." Scourge said, pointing towards the wrong document at first. "Where the hell is... Yeah, this one! She's used a warp ring before, how do we know she ain't still got it?! Aria doesn't need to be a living-" For once, Scourge was just a little too tired to want to keep being anger. Fury could only fuel him for so long. "Fine... Fine, we search 'em BOTH out. The king's got the resources. We've just got- What's that snooty word, conjecturn? Whatever, we're just screaming off that." The slowed yelling was enough for Scourge to notice just where the king was being tended. "Did someone attack you?" Straight to the worst conclusion, as usual. "Maybe they'd lead us to whoever did this?" Damian scooped his son up and used the warp ring to return to his home for a minute or two. His child was handed off to his wife and the doctor returned. Scourge just laughed, which briefly turned to wheezing as a nurse put pressure on the cut while she applied gauze. "Not quite… When you attacked me, something happened to my heart. My arrhythmia got worse so the doctors inserted a pacemaker to restart my heart if it ever stops beating. Guess that means I can’t go commit suicide by lake anymore. Don’t want to electrocute anyone.” So casual. Incredibly morbid. No one had slept and it was awful and they had no leads. This was slowly turning into a worse case scenario. No one really knew how they could respond to that. Laughing would be in poor taste, and the whole night had been such a slingshot of emotions that quiet sympathy wasn't a card they could play, even if Damian and Castillo were the sorts of people who would want to. It just kind of dangled and spun in the air, grabbing everyone's attention but not getting any words out of them. "Guys... We have nothing. We ain't detectives." Manic had tumbled down into the uncomfortable chair he had been using all night. "Let get some REAL investigators in charge, I am so... I can't think straight, my dudes." Castillo started walking towards his husband. "Well, we've got to start somewhere, I ain't gonna sit around doing nothing! Manic nodded his head, eyes closed and clearly about to fall asleep. So scourge finally stepped back and let out a sigh. "Fine... Fine, get some people who know this stuff involved. What about Zonic?" "Called him. He said that he’s trying to get files and information for us, but it's all ‘very complicated’. He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the paperwork. I’ll get the cops on it. Sergio, take them to the second guest room.”

The king ordered and the guard obeyed, waiting to lead Manic and Scourge to bed. Damian just sat down and kept working. Scourge rolled over to him and started helping. “Damian… Maybe Aria was the target. Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt her?”

As the hedgehogs were lead upstairs, they might catch a glimpse of a fox if they could open their eyes. Thankfully for all the drama that was already fueling his emotions, Scourge didn't see anyone. All he got was a glimpse of a tail he thought was familiar. Was that Fao? No, it couldn't have been, right? There were tons of castle workers, it had to have been a maid or a guard or someone else entirely.It had been a long time since he'd actually seen Fao in person, and he was starting to miss him. They didn't bother with showering or changing clothes or anything, they just flopped down into the bed and passed out. If they hadn't stayed up until late in the morning, they would have been too scared to fall asleep. It would only be an hour or two later that Scourge would be let out of the war room, to the smell of a strong peppermint tea filling the hall. One glance revealed an unfamiliar rhinoceros wearing a very familiar uniform. One of Fiona's men, though how she got there was anyone's guess. She followed a maid pushing a serving cart, topped with a teapot the king hadn't seen before. There were two knocks on the door, the rhino never taking their eyes off of the servant. Fiona stepped out, wearing a nightgown and reaching for the kettle. "Morning," she said curtly as the king passed. "When'd you get up?" The king yawned, having begrudgingly let the nurses push his wheelchair. He was far too tired to do it himself. The smell of tea was able to wake him up slightly. But not enough to keep him awake.

"Oh… Morning… I haven’t gone to bed, we can’t find anyone who would want to take her, or knew about her being there, or anyone who would choose to take her rather than waiting. Damian is trying to stay strong but he’s gonna run himself raw at this rate. Zonic is doing his best but I’m worried still. Aria and Terra could be anywhere… How was your sleep?”

He tried to be kind and civil, but the bags under his eyes and his general exhaustion made it difficult to sit up, let alone try and converse. Up all night? Fiona wasn't expecting to hear that, and the laundry list of problems and foreign names wasn't making things any prettier. She silently sipped her tea, finding herself unable not to focus on the massive bags under his eyes. "Fine," she answered curtly. "Get some rest, we won't fix anything if you can't think." She motioned for the maid and her guard to walk away. She was still determined to stay angry at the king, but she had seen more of the king than her own stereotypes, and couldn't help but see him as... pathetic. Actually weak and sad. It was like each time she saw him, he got five years older and twenty years weaker. The bandages were slowly turning red, not that either would care to notice. He was so tired he was numb to the pain, she didn’t want to care.

"I know this isn’t easy for you but… Could you go over the list of names, see if any ring a bell? It would help…. It's downstairs with Damian in the war room..”

Another yawn and the nurse carted him off to bed to rest. Even as tired as he was, the kings sleep was poor, nightmares plaguing his mind. Where was Aria? There was still sympathy deep in her heart for the battered king. She took her time getting ready for the day, sipping her tea, doing her hair, but she couldn't get herself to completely forget about the king's physical state. She had made up her mind when she was finally done getting ready, it was time to actually help with this investigation. And it didn't take more than a few minutes. Most of the names in front of Damian were marked off immediately. "They're all so thoroughly banned from my buildings, they couldn't get near the hotel." She said. "The only way any of them could have escaped would be out the broken window, or by disabling the alarm on the fire escape. Bobtail's the only one left who knows how to disable alarm, and Chrysalis and Barette are the only two left who can fly. You're going to want to start looking..." Where they should have started looking, even Aria and Terra didn't know. Wherever it was, it was dark. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs, but they didn't seemed to be otherwise restrained. But when they couldn't even see the door, that didn't mean much. Aria's forehead throbbed, still swelling from the sudden attack back in Fiona's apartment. Terra and aria felt for each other in the darkness of the room, and when they did find each other, the hedgehog crawled to her mate, shivering badly. The bat merely wrapped herself around her mate as best she could, trying to soothe her.

"Shhh, it's okay…. It's okay… I’m right here. I don’t know what’s going on, but we are gonna be fine.” She didn’t believe that, but she did her best to convince her mate.

The door opened suddenly, but the room remained dark… Aria whimpers only grew louder until a rough hand slapped her hard across her face. The same hand lifted her up by the scruff, kicking and screaming. A good shake got her to stop.

“Easy there. You don’t like the blackout contacts then? Good. You’re not supposed to be comfortable. So here’s the plan. I’m gonna unlock you. And you’re gonna use those pretty little claws of yours to open up a warp to where ever you’re told. Otherwise this area is gonna get bloody.”

Aria was dropped and her face pressed to Terras so she could feel the cold barrel of a gun pressed to her mates skull. Aria suddenly became submissive and compliant

“Okay okay! I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t hurt her!” The younger female exclaimed, trying to nudge the gun away from her mates forehead. The gun was put away and she was dragged off by the scruff of her neck

~°~°~°~

The news of the robbery got to the castle hours later. A surprising in and out job with no alarm systems detected and no footage on the system.

“… We have to go check that scene.” Scourge said, having just woken up and rolled into the war room. And who was better to give insight into a theft investigation than a master thief? Manic ended up in the room, swimming through walls of code in a matter of seconds and getting frustrated as all of his theories got dashed away. "Well, they had to have something!" Manic said, looking at the details of the security coding. Sure, he had the briefing, but he seemed to swim through walls of illegible-seeming computer code with ease. "Look, the prints they left were so deep in the system, they're barely there! If you're gonna rob someone this blatantly, you don't get subtle with the code!" Fingers furiously tapped at the keyboard, dashing to the security footage. "I mean... Yeah, I'm sure that's how they got in! The watches didn't just disappear in a second. They took footage of the empty vault and looped it back to the system, I do that all the time! But like, we can't even see them enter. The only entrance is the vault door, and all we've got's that blip of footage from outside." They looked at camera clip from outside the show vault once again. The tiny, bulletproof bit of glass was supposed to show into a well-guarded tiny showroom holding the most expensive watches they had to offer, but now, it showed a sudden bright light forming and disappearing barely a minute later. "I mean, the only way they could've gotten in is they had one guy handle security, and had someone else..." It sounded ridiculous, but it was the only option. "You don't think Aria's-" "Let’s look at the facts. Aria and Terra have gone missing. The next day, a store is robbed where the only explanation is a warp ring or Aria. I don’t think she’s complying. But I do think she’s the source of that rift.”

“Not complying? You’ve got to be kidding, she opened the portal didn’t she? That makes her guilty!” A young detective challenged, and was met with dirty glares from everyone in the room

“She’s probably under some kind of duress… If they’ve got Terra, Aria will do anything to keep her safe. Otherwise she would be home by now.” Scourge explained motioning for the detective to leave the room.

“So how do we find these guys?” Manic piped up immediately. "I dunno, warp rings all give some kind of location data, right? Could Aria's warps-" "No," a security analyst interrupted. "That's all in the circuitry, natural warps can't be tracked in the same way." This left an uncomfortable pause, as the various people present shot ideas off to maybe one or two other people around them. They still didn't have a firm ID on whoever the kidnapper was, would they have to track all three of them? "I mean, we're looking for some kind of high-end thief who knew Rosolio and who knows how to disappear for a while, right?" Manic finally admitted, looking uncomfortable. "We know someone who might be able to get some kind of inside information." "Use them. We need all hands on deck, no matter how questionable. Just make sure they can be trusted…” The king sat and thought for a while. Judging by his furrowed brow, whatever he was thinking was not something that pleased him and he scowled.

“Pull up security footage outside Aria's apartment. If they were looking for her they would try there first. Look for anyone new or out of place or frequent, short visits… Manic, take Aria's phone and call everyone she’s recently talked to, see if they know anything.”

The phone was unlocked by a tech expert and the call logs would reveal Manic himself as the last person she had spoken to. Everyone looked up at him, surprised.

“Why’d you call her Manic? You’re more​ of a texting dude…” Scourge tried to give Castillo the benefit of the doubt. But he didn’t trust him. Manic was texting at this point, not looking up concernedly half of the time as he spoke. "Look... I didn't know where I could say it, but there were some guys who came to my place looking for Ari. It was a little before you think she got kidnapped... ..." He snapped his fingers as something came to him. "My place. Check the logs from..." He checked the call data. "Five days ago, that's when they showed up. They were all disguised, but we've got some identities! Maybe we can get-" One of the doors opened, with Manic's husband walking in. He didn't look totally rested himself. "You learn something?" "We're probably about to," he responded. "We've almost got some photos of the people looking for Ari... Uh, how long do you think it'll take to get those tapes?" "An hour, tops.” The king insisted. “For now, see what you can tell a sketch artist, like build, height, species, anything. These guys may be our only lead… You okay there Damian? You look tired.”

The older hedgie was struggling to stay awake at the table, evidently exhausted as he fought the urge to just fall asleep at the table. Even as he nodded off, he thought of his little sister, which prompted him awake again. He didn’t hear Scourge ask him questions.

“Hey. Maybe you should go rest, Damian” the king shook him a little and the hedgie refused. Fighting his tired eyes that wanted to close and shaking his head.

“Mm…no….can’t leave her… Last time this happened I wasn’t around… She never forgave me…” The overworked doctor suddenly face planted into the table and fell asleep.

“Last time..? Someone carry him to a couch.” The king ordered, clearly confused. Manic and Scourge glanced between each other. That was Aria's business, that was her own trauma. If she didn't want the king to know about it, that was her decision. So Manic went off, talking to a sketch artist and pointing out small marks as certain things were sketched down. The two Scourge's would end up at a couch near the side of the room as data was searched and files were requested. A brief break as they waited for something someone wasn't already handling. "They got into her place..." Scourge said, looking up at the ceiling and looking stressed. "Is Fao safe? No one touched Fiona, right?" "Don’t worry, Faolán was at school and Fiona was at work. They’re safe. They were never in any danger probably, if these guys were just going after Aria and Terra. The bad guys probably picked that moment so that they wouldn’t have to deal with Fiona. But they’re crashing here while their house is a crime scene, so this may be a good chance for you to see Fao without Fiona getting mad… Once you all figure out how to explain Aria's disappearance to him anyways. I would hate for him to be mad at her when we get her back”

The king stretched out on the wheelchair and laid back, fidgeting. He was just as stressed it seemed. With the surgery and the kingdom and Aria's kidnapping, he looked tired and older, much older. Were his quills always that white? Castillo visibly tensed up when he mentioned Fiona and Fao crashing there.  Normally, a chance to see Fao like this would be a godsend, but definitely not now. The king looked older, and Scourge felt like he was aging just as much in those few moments. For a few seconds, he wished he could go back to not worrying about what other people thought, but he was stuck with proper emotions. "We tell him the truth," He said simply, sounding like he hadn't slept at all. "He's stronger than you think. I ain't lying to him if I don't have to." He said this as though he didn't have a choice, but he knew he did. He desperately wanted to lie and say everything was fine, but Fao would figure it out. He deserved honestly. "That’s up to you and Fiona to decide… Meanwhile, I think we should send people to canvas the area around the bar and Aria's house, see if anyone saw anything once we get the photos… Who has the time to go?”

~°~°~

Aria and Terra had been allowed out of their restraints, and had been given food. It was important to keep Aria healthy while she recharged her energy. At least they knew not to push her limits.

“Terra? I’m scared.” She whispered, unsure if anyone was in the room with them. She ate up the food without question, opened portal without question, all to protect her girlfriend.

The bat set her fork down on her plate and pulled the hedgehog into a kiss. She was at a loss for words, and could only offer her mate physical comfort. There was that distant squeak, and the sound of feet descending a set of stairs. Aria knew that meant it wasn't long before- Yes, there was the door to this room, whatever this room was. It was carpeted in something thin, and even without seeing it, they could tell it was quite cramped. They were oddly courteous enough to put them in a room with a small bed, but it felt like there was no way to remove it from the room. It even had access to a small bathroom, thankfully, but it made no sense. It felt like a very well equipped closet more than a proper room. One cur-edged claw held up Aria's trembling head. "Good girl, you didn't waste anything." The woman's voice sounded rough and harsh. Someone could be heard collecting the plates. "You've been very good, we might take out your contacts if you behave." "Should we go for the papers next?" A male voice could be heard saying. It was low and smooth, almost melodic. "Yes, Aria, are you ready to warp us again?" The woman beckoned to Aria, claws teasing her neck as if to force her to nod yes. Aria almost felt sick and how good the praise felt. This evil person was using her, why did her praise and promise of a reward give her such a joyous feeling? Not as strong as the way she felt when Terra praised her, but very similar to something else. The grip on her throat caused her to choke a little, her voice strained

"Y-yes ma'am. Right away ma'am… Where to?” She asked as she was dragged into the other room, stumbling over her own two feet. Her legs felt tingly, them must have fallen asleep from the way she was sitting.

“You’ve been trained well. But I guess you’re used to being ordered around by bigger women.” The moth- was she a moth? Yes those wings were unmistakeable- gently stopped her in the middle of the room. The swaying got worse, and Aria stabilized herself on the floor. She vaguely wondered if her allergies were acting up.

“Ma'am. Sir. Where to?…” ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ "The Moebian apartment building." The beetle stepped into the war room with those four words, holding a USB drive. "Manic's apartments sent us all the security footage." Scourge peeked at the sketch artist's work while the files were opened on the projected screen. The features he saw were familiar, but not enough to get anything out of... And the footage was opened and scanned, to just before Manic's phone call. A few people came and went, until the main three arrived. The same people Manic saw, one tall person, one medium height, one medium height and strong. The same kinds of disguises he had mentioned, too. This woul dhave normally started the grueling process of picking apart every frame... "Stop it! Rewind that crap!" Scourge said out of nowhere. The footage was stopped and slowed down, going back to a frame as the tallest of the three adjusted some kind of headscarf. The fabric lifted just enough to show a small mark on their shoulder... "That's Chrysalis, that moth." Scourge said. "I know that flower tattoo anywhere, it's the moth bitch." "Okay, so at least we have an ID. Even easier to catch them now. So where would she be going, what is the one thing she wants most in the world to steal… That reminds me, someone turn on all the warp blockers in every government building, including the castle. At the very least we won’t have to worry about surprise visitors… And someone get a list of every known sighting of this moth, and any assets she might have. Move your asses people! We are running out of time! Let’s go!”

People scampered off to follow his orders. The king looked over at his alternate. “How dangerous is she?”

He was so lost in his planning for in depth searching of this moth, that no one noticed the tiny wolf in the doorway who had just gotten home from school, escorted by a guard.

“Your majesty! The same people are on the video footage from Aria's apartment as on this tape.” A younger IT specialist said, turning a screen for the king to look at. "She wasn't the violent one," Scourge said, watching the others with her very carefully. "Chrissy's not sadistic, just concerned with herself. She doesn't care about other people, but won't hurt them. I'm worried about these fucks with him." He circled the two other figures with her. With the news of the security footage from Aria's apartment, the footage they had was pulled up, and everyone's attention was diverted. The cameras were opened on three figures in Aria's apartment, the same builds and disguises, searching... for... ... Why were there so many flowers? Some small bouquets, some medium sized- Was that one of those decorative fruit arrangements? There was a pile of gifts at her front door, but they weren't the important part at the moment, as strange as they were. Once again, Scourge took charge and helped with pausing and rewinding the footage. It took a few minutes, but they found the frame of the three leaving the building. They were finally close enough for Scourge to get a good view of one figure scratching their face, whiskers just barely visible on camera. "Three right whiskers, two snipped ones on the left... That's bobtail." He said, clapping his hands together loudly, "There's your second kidnapper. He's a psycho, he's the one to worry about. You're watching for this fucker and making sure he doesn't slice up Ari, she's gonna be bleeding soon if we ain't-" He stopped mid speech. Fao could only watch from the door, confused and scared at everything his dad had said. Scourge couldn't find the words. "Alright. Alright how the hell are we gonna manage this… Castill- oh.”

The king looked at the little wolf cowering in the corner, as did most of the people in the room. Quite a few were confused and looked to the king for answers.

“Alright. Castillo, now's about the time that you, Manic and Fiona have a nice family chat. I can do everything else for a while.” He pushed the two out of the room as best he could while he was in his chair, then returned to the head of the table and grabbed a police radio connected to the main dispatch.

“Attention all units, code 134. Victims are a short female, approximately 2'9, hedgehog, red hair brown eyes. Three claws and has two barcode tattoos. Second victim is a bat, about 3'2, brown fur, blue eyes, red hair, glasses. Suspects are two fugitives, a moth with a flower tattoo on her neck and a bobcat with two trimmed whiskers on the left. Suspects are armed and dangerous, report back any sightings to main radio using code 282397. Keep this quiet, victims could be in peril if we alarm the suspects.”

“Dad? What’s going on?” Faolán asked, looked at all of the people in the room, hunched over files and computers. "Kid..." Scourge seemed genuinely flustered, and this only concerned the child more. He didn't understand much of what was said, but knew it wasn't good. "Come here." Scourge knelt down a short distance from the child, motioning for him to come closer. While the king took over, Faolán walked closer, not sure if he'd done something wrong or not. Castillo hugged Fao. For a while, actually. It had been a while since thy'd actually had a chance to see each other. If he'd known he was going to have a chance to see him, he might have been emotionally prepared. Instead, he held on for his own comfort, and for the concerned child's. "Come on, man, let's go find... let's find little dude's mom," Manic said, not jazzed with the idea but knowing it had to happen. There were a few guards present to watch the conversation, all from the castle. The four had gathered by the small sitting area in Fiona's guest room. The little wolf was sitting his his dad and clinging to his legs as he listened to the news get delivered. The worst of the details were omitted, but he was told the honest facts of the situation, and taking it all silently. "Is she gonna get hurt?" He asked, scared he might know the answer. The all silently winced. "We're trying to find her right now, kid." Scourge said. "We're going to find her, and we're gonna keep her safe. We all miss her, kid." "We're going to be very busy." Fiona tried to impart this information with the kind of gentility Scourge's voice couldn't bring. "We're going to be safe, Fao, and so is Aria and her friend. But you have to promise you're going to stay in the castle, okay? I mean it, don't sneak out." He nodded silently, still clutching his legs. He leaned up to his father, looking a little teary. "Did I do something?" Scourge patted the child. He hadn't seem him cry many times in person, and it always hit him hard. "You're find, squirt." He patted his side, letting Fao lean up as he tried not to cry. "Someone use the building across the street’s camera to find footage. See if they had a car or not. If they did, I want the plates run as fast as possible. And check for warp rings activated within the area too.” The king ordered.

Suddenly the police radio jumped to life with noise as someone tried to make contact. Scourge picked up. “What you got for me?”

“Officer J.Dewey sir, badge 739261… Precinct 8 has been compromised. Male of the same build you described and two females. Not the bat, but the hedgehog and the moth… It doesn’t look like the hedgehog can see though, she’s running into everything. They’re using her like a shield and my men can’t get a good shot. Requesting backup.”

“What?! How did they get in? Did you not receive the warp blocker order?” A brief pause as the king face planted. “Precinct 8. The one area that doesn’t have the blockers right? Okay, never mind that, what are they doing now?”

“Trying to get to a computer. One was left logged in.”

“Roger. Dispatch is sending backup and I will be there personally soon. Do not let them leave” the king insisted, getting out of his wheelchair and running upstairs at top speed.

“Hate to interrupt but they’ve taken Aria to a police station as a hostage and are trying to get at a computer. Precinct 8. That’s your old stomping ground ain’t it? We need to go now!” The king ordered his alternate, setting the warp rings coordinates faster than anyone else in the room could. "The hell...?" Scourge asked out loud as the warp was quickly set. Whatever they were planning, it wasn't any good, but what use could Scourge's hometown be to them? He didn't have the time to think as the warp was opened and he was more or less forced through. The main reason Precinct eight had no warp blockers was easy. It was dirt poor, and this was apparent just from the outside of the police building. The foreclosed structures nearby didn't help with that impression one bit. Most of the officers were outside the building, snipers aimed but unable to do anything about the three. Only the snipers could see her eyes, and the total blacked-out lenses Aria was being forced to wear. A megaphone was handed off to the king, and Castillo was quick to snatch it from him. "Ari, are you in there?!" He yelled into it, bellowing into the building. "It's me, Scourge!" A cop walked to the king, briefing him. "They walked in, and forced us all to walk out or they’d shoot her.”

“Castillo. That’s enough. She’s not gonna answer you, but snipers got her in sights. Gimme that.” The king took the megaphone and turned it on. “Come out with your hands up. We know who you are. Give us both girls back and no one has to get hurt.”

A sniper spoke up. “They’re giving you the finger sire.”

“Thanks. Not like I can see that for myself or anything.” The king rolled his eyes, sending agents around the back of the precinct to try and get in that way. As officers tried and failed to break down the back entrance, the visiting kidnappers were joined by a third figure. Some kind of a wild boar, pacing carefully with Terra in one arm and pressing a gun to her. Sidestepping slowly, they walked up to the precinct computer his companions were standing near. It didn't take a second for Bobtail and the boar to switch positions, Bobtail's evil mind much more blatant as he clutched the gun with a maniacal grin. As they ran a file in the computer with a portable hard drive, Scourge leaned in closer to the megaphone. "Ari, we're gonna get you outta there safe!" He yelled. "Don't let no one lay a scratch on you, you too, Terra!" There was no response, only the screaming hedgehog being pulled away from the megaphone. Manic just glared on, hoping desperately they weren't up to anything too bad. The hard drive was pulled out again, and the boar huddled behind his two companions. "We're done here, goin' back," he commanded the others. Aria reached out, grabbing for Terra's hand. She was scared, she needed comfort or the portal wouldn’t hold. After blindly grabbing at air, the moth stood closer for the lovers to cling to each other. The moth was the only one who listened to Aria about her magic's restrictions. After all, its important to know the flaws of your tools before you use them.

The moth nudged Aria to open and portal and her claws came out as she was faced towards the front of the building, ready to scratch a portal open as she shivered. Snipers lasers centered on her, waiting for her to move. The moth grabbed her from behind in a way that reminded the king of a certain bat. What she whispered to Aria wasn’t heard, but the portal was opened quickly, and everyone jumped through it.

Just as the police bust in through the back, they were gone.

When the cops gave the all clear, the king threw his megaphone to the ground. The people tried their best to ignore the flames that flickered quickly in and out of existence at his feet as he turned to Manic.

"I wanna know what they took. That’s your job for now. Castillo, you’re on security detail. I’m going to run home to blow off some steam before I do something I’m going to regret.” "Don't hurt yourself, dude." Manic said. He turned to his husband, nodded, and the two rushed into the building. There were attempts to reopen the warp, but the warp would only flicker into existence before disappearing. They must have started some kind of warp blocker when they arrived. Wherever Aria was, that had to narrow it down somehow, right? If anyone knew security, it would be the Castillos. Scourge knew how to handle physical security, and quickly started to round up the best of the officers present for their duties as the others handled evidence collection and investigation. Manic knew cyber security, and the codes of the computers seemed to flow through his fingers. His tools would have normally made this easier to pull off, but some freehand and just a bit of luck got him to the data he needed. Recently deleted files proved nothing, but recently moved... "Babe?" Manic asked, looking to Scourge. "Why would they be looking at your police records?" ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ "And that's what we're looking at." Scourge spoke to the king with his husband, all three trying to stave off stress. His reports brought up assault and theft charges, nothing too terrible for the hedgehog in question. So why was he so stressed about them? "What do you think they're planning?" Scourge was pacing, brushing off concerned doctors who attempted to force him into his chair. He refused, and the strip of carpet he was pacing on would probably be worn thin.

"This doesn’t make any sense! How did they even know about her powers? Not only that, what do you have to do with this? What’s their angle?” He demanded, aggravated and upset. "We're talking about Rosolio's men," Scourge said. "We pretty much killed her, Aria used her claws to warp then, it was all heavily covered. Zonic's probably next in their plans if we aren't careful." The door creaked open. He was the son of a big-name criminal and a crime boss, of course Faolán was going to take an interest to eavesdropping. He stood quietly by the door and listened to the three speak. "I don't know like, a hundred percent about that." Manic admitted, huffing and leaning back. "Aria hasn't said anything specific, but she sometimes seems scared of like... I don't know, this mass of people? Not even people, just some faceless group of some kind. And this goes back loooong before we did anything to Roses." He tilted his head towards the king. "If anyone'd know what's going on, I'd think it would be you or Damian, and he ain't here." The question sat heavily in the air. "Do you know anything like that?" The king was silent, thinking over how to explain what he knew to Manic and Castillo. Eventually he sent everyone out of the room and sat down on a couch.

"Did she ever tell you why everyone died?” When met with the confusion, he elaborated.

“Her family. This is all of what I know. They were attacked by an unknown group and slaughtered like… Livestock. Aria was out of that village at the time, searching the city for something, she never said what… She came back to the village and found… Well the photos haunt my nightmares. Can’t imagine what it does to her. They never found who did it, but the rummaging through the place suggested they were looking for something… No one knows what. The case has gone cold and unsolved and she refuses to let me pay for a private detective. She’s scared that the group that killed her family will come for her, probably. If you want the case files, we pulled them.”

He looked out the window and thought, drumming his fingers on his leg. Thinking. "So what you're saying is, we've got no clue." Manic huddled his legs close to his chest as he thought about what the king just said. "If real detectives couldn't, I don't think we could." Scourge patter Manic's back to give him comfort. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge exactly what Aria had been through, much less see the evidence of it. "Like, do you have any clue what they could've been searching for? Maybe-" The thought came to Manic as he spoke the sentence. "It's kind of a stretch, but maybe they wanted to find Aria? She has a ton of power." Scourge seemed to have an idea and rushed to the phone to call Aria's brother. "Hello?” Damian asked as he picked up the phone. “Damian. I’ve got a random question about the birth order of your siblings. What number was Aria?” “She was the sixth of the living siblings. why?” “I mean including the stillborns and miscarriages.” “Oh.. that would make her the 7th? of us I think. Why?” “Damn it! That’s why they went after her! There’s a legend that the seventh son of the seventh son, or in this case the seventh daughter of the seventh son, is incredibly powerful. It’s not a surprise that Aria was the only one left alive, especially if that’s who they were looking for. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever is looking for her now was working for Rosolio either. They were in the same city they with lots of power, it wouldn’t be that far of a stretch. But why wait 16 years?” Manic looked to Scourge. Scourge looked to the king. And Fao still watched from his hiding space at the door. "Maybe it's cause..." Manic was having loose ideas, but it was more clumps of words approaching a solid shape before crumbling again. "I wish I had an answer, but I mean, as least we know why they have her, right? For the most part?" "What good's that do us?" Scourge responded. "We know her kidnappers already, ain't like we've gotta track anyone down." "Speaking of tracking down, have their homes been searched?" Scourge shrugged. "Don't know most of their homes. Searched all kidns of businesses, safe houses, all that this, nothing. Ari's just disappeared." "All assets, every alias they might be under… We just don’t know what they’ll do with her magic. Hospitals, banks and schools are getting warp blockers now, but it’s still a very real threat to the general public… We have to wait until they warp around again… But who was the third guy?”

He looked over at his alternate, hoping desperately that he had the answer he wanted. That this guy had a name, a home address, somewhere they hadn’t searched yet. Something they could use to find Aria and Terra.

“Please tell me something useful… Please tell me we can find them?” It hung in the air that maybe they wouldn’t see the hedgehog alive again. Scourge was taking the thought really hard. Manic turned to his husband, not quite noticing the horror in the king's eyes through his own attempts at feigning hope. Scourge looked down at the floor, deep in thought. "Don't know why he's there," Scourge finally said. "I've seen him a few times, never talked to him. Guy hated me, thought." He thought for a moment, looking almost painted at what he was thinking. "Radon, that's his name. Not as psycho as Bobtail, but when he fights, he fights to kill." The implication dangled in front of their noses. "Do you think we'll see Aria alive again?" It was a very faint squeak, but just enough that Manic's ears could pick it up. He leaned forward like it was casual and placed his cup on the table. "Kiddo, if you wanna hear some people talk, you don't creak the door." He announced. "Have you been listening in?" There was a pause. "No." Manic retained his casual pose as he stood and tried to act normal. "We've got another big lead," Manic said. "We should get back to work. Again." "Don’t even ask.” The king said. He was on the verge of tears. The thought of never seeing one of his best friends was a shock he couldn’t handle.

Faolán’s listening in was an unpleasant surprise. Scourge motioned for Castillo to deal with his child as he left the room to cry somewhere secluded. “Pull up his file when you get downstairs. I want every detail on him.”

The small wolf felt the same, and walked over to his dad, clinging to his leg. He whimpered a bit, worried about his friend. “She’s gonna be okay, right dad? You’re gonna find her right?” "Of course we are, kid." Scourge promised him. He swatted down and pulled Fao into a proper hug, cracking up just a bit as he felt his son fight back tears. "We're the best of the best over here, it's just gonna take a while." Right now, hugging Fao was more for Scourge's comfort. "I promise." Fao sniffled, nodding his head. Scourge didn't want to leave and make his son cry, he wanted to keep him safe. But there was work to be done. "I've gotta keep working." Fao heard four words he hated to hear. "If you're quiet, you can come in with me, kid. Whaddya say?" Scourge smiled like nothing was wrong for Fao's sake. He couldn't say he was wrong, and nodded again. He stood up and took his son's hand, walking him through the halls towards the war room. He needed one parent, and Fiona was probably off working on business like always. But she wasn't. Actually, she was outside of the king's chamber, trying to build up the courage. Finally, she found the courage to knock. Though in her mind it wasn't courage, it was stupidity. She could hardly believe what she was doing. Scourge had actually hidden in the library to break down, and was only returning to his chambers to grab something. He was… Surprised to see Fiona. It wasn’t what he was expecting for sure.

"Fiona. What can I do for you? If you’re looking for Faolán, he’s with Castillo.” He was cold, not impersonal but not exactly gentle with his words. Shutting down his emotions in order to be as productive as possible.

He opened the door as he awaited for her to talk, the room pristine and the bed made perfectly. He hadn’t slept in it the night before. "This is ridiculous," Fiona said to herself as she walked in. Even after all her mental preparation, she was having trouble getting the words out. "I don't have a lot of people I can talk to," she finally said, as though the king even needed to be reminded. "Aria's very good at listening, but she's gone and Fao's not mature enough, and..." What had happened to her? She knew logically she could turn to the king for help, just not emotionally. Right now, he was the only person who could really listen to her problems. "I don't know why I'm trying to talk to you, I can't- I can't stand talking to you." She sniffled, sitting down on the couch at the side of the room and tearing up. "I can't wait until we find those assholes who took her," Fiona growled out as she choked back tears. "I miss her." There were very many things scourge was not good at. Complex math. Expressing his emotions. Dancing. But most of all he was horrible at being put on the spot.

She sat in his room and he thought nothing of it until he heard her sniffle. When he turned, he saw just how broken up she was about loosing Aria. The king sat down next to her, hesitant to touch her shoulder like he had in the past. But she was far too miserable for him to not at least try.

"I know. I know I miss her too. But we are going to find her, okay? And the fuckwads who did this. And then everything will be fine again, and you can go back to hating me." Hand on her shoulder, he offered her a tissue box. She jolted at the touch, startled by the sudden touch. But her furious crying didn't prompt her to fight back. She snatched the box out of his hands and held it in her left hand while she dabbed away her tears. Even in spite of her attempts to keep hating this Scourge, the moment still reminded her of the king's previous behavior. This was completely normal for them. This position of her crying with his hand on her shoulder wasn't alien to her, it was something that had happened many times before, and the touch sent her rocketing through her memories. She knew it had to be only temporary - rather, hoped - but she couldn't muster up some of her newfound anger towards the king. "Why is Fao with Scourge?" She asked, sounding more concerned than angry. "Shouldn't he be helping search for Aria?" "Faolán was listening in on a conversation and got scared. I don’t know if Scourge and him went back to the war room or if they’re still in the library. Poor thing was about to cry, and I left them to talk… We were being … Less than positive.”

The king rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply. His eyes were puffy and red, as if he had cried too over all of this.

“They’ve got a lead, there was a third person at the police station that they’re searching up now. Hopefully he’s bad at covering his tracks so we can catch him… But Aria was the target for sure. These people knew her, you and Faolán were never in any danger. They probably took her when they did so they could avoid running into you or Faolán… But this guy is lethal.”

Another deep breath as the king tried to fight back his tears. "Why would he be in the war room?" Fiona said, annoyed and tired. She exhaled loudly and looked away. "Scourge can't be that stupid." Fiona couldn't ignore the king's eyes. Everyone was crying today, even herself. Once again, this only ended up leaving her baggage out in the open. As badly as opening up to the king went before, she knew it was her own damage, not the king's fault. "I just... I needed to talk to someone." She admitted, sitting up straight and chucking her tissue towards the trash can. "I should go before you...  before I yell at you again." But she couldn't bring herself to leave now that she forced herself into the room. "How did your surgery go?" "Not too horribly. They’re just worried about the scarring.I have to go back in a few days…. And then when everything’s settled they’re gonna try and fix the back scars to keep them from opening and getting infected…”

Silence between them. Awkward, but they were both so plagued by grief that it didn’t matter.

“…. I’m scared we won’t find her in time… Whatever these guys are after, they won’t let her live once they get it. And Terra… If Aria steps one foot out of line she’s gone too. We have almost nothing to go on until another hit. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t aggravated Castillo by…well… You know… Then Aria wouldn't have been taken. I feel like such a selfish prick!”

"It's all my damn fault."

She reached for her mouth like she was going to take out a cigarette, catching herself midway. "I got drunk and drug you to bed with me. I slept with you after that, I-" She inhaled deeply, stopping her anger as it started to grow. "There's nothing I can do about it now."

There was blame to go around, and Fiona desperately just wanted to place all of it on Castillo to make it easier for them both. But she didn't want to talk about it. "I don't even want to think about this," she admitted. All she wanted was to relax. "Can you drink after that surgery?"

"It's really not. I didn’t stop it when I should have. But the past is the past, and there’s nothing we can do about it now… Doctor said that I should stay away for anything that messes with my heart rate in case the pacemaker sets itself off by mistake. I’m not doing that at all, but I won’t risk pushing myself any more than I have to. Besides, we probably are needed downstairs. Come on, let’s go before Castillo flies into a rage or does something stupid.”

He offered his hand like he usually did when he’d made a decision about where they were going. “After we get her back, if you want to, we can sit down and I’ll listen to everything you have to say. But for now, let’s focus on getting her back.” Fiona sighed loudly, knowing that was probably the case. She wanted Aria to be safe too. She took the king's hand and stood up, just wanting this disaster to finally be over. If they were going to end this mess, they were going to have to keep working restlessly. The only person who was resting right now was Faolán, resting in a chair in the war room near his father. Everyone walking around, delivering news, shooting off theories was a bit quieter with the child around. Was he scared? Absolutely. But he was scared with someone he trusted nearby, and at least found the comfort to sleep instead of continuing suffering. His son's comfort have Scourge comfort, and he was able to focus better as he dug up more information on Radon. His assets were being thoroughly searched and prodded, but it was going to take some times before they got their answers on what he owned. But in Scourge's mind, his motive was clear... "He... inherited a lot from his widow," Scourge didn't even say hello when the King entered the room. He looked exhausted, but nowhere near as tired as the king. "His houses are being raided now, but we aren't finding any signs he's been to any of 'em. Tons of assets weren't declared or nothing. Some guys are... uh..." He stopped mid sentance, not remember what he was saying briefly. "They're looking into clubs he used to be in. Competes in boxing and weightlifting leagues, member'a some social club, all say he just stopped showing up after the kidnapping happened. Nothing on some old yatch club he stopped visiting years ago or some criminal hangout that got busted a while back." He stared off, thinking throughhis exhaustion. "Fao's feeling better, not crying or screaming anymore. What time's it?" "Time for you to go get some rest. Go on, I can handle this. Take Faolán and let him go to bed. Poor little guy doesn’t need to see any of this… What’s so relevant about his widow? Was she one of Rosolio’s goons?”

He traded seats with Castillo, reading through the information that had been added since he went upstairs to cry. It was lengthy reading, interrupted frequently by updates from various people with even more information. The king came up with even more theories as he thought, sending people to the boxing club and yacht club undercover to see if the owners will involved.

Eventually they were back to playing the waiting game, and the king started pacing again. He was tired and stressed and neither was good for his heart. "You go get some rest, you ain't slept since we started," Scourge shot back. He stood up like he was willing to fight, just to make sure he knew he was serious. "Both of you need some sleep." Manic said, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "You can't find Aria if you aren't going to take a nap, at least." Manic could see that neither of them wanted to back down. "Fine! Fine, am I gonna have to FORCE you guys to sleep?! You can't detective like this, get some sleep, guys!" Manic moved for Scourge to pick up his son in his arms. As soon as he was, Manic forced the two out of the room, virtually pushing them. "I'll handle the important stuff tonight, just don't hurt yourselves!" And with that, the door was closed behind them both, leaving Manic as a makeshift leader in the war room. Scourge was too tired to fight, so as he carried Faolán to his room, he filled in the king on some final details. "Another boar named Gamma, used to be a rival trader to Rosolio who joined up with her eventually. Died in a car accident, don't know why he's there." He lied. The door to Fiona's room was opened, revealing that she wasn't there yet. The child was laid down on his bed and tucked in. "I feel like my brain's gonna burst..." Scourge grumbled as they were forced out, wondering where Fiona had disappeared off to. With the information on the boar, a theory began to form.

"That sounds like something Rosolio would plan. I’ll have the others look into it when we get back downstairs. Possibly her way of cutting out competition… Maybe they took Aria because she was the one who killed her and not them?”

That didn’t seem right, but the king rustled Castillo’s quills anyway. “Go get some rest. Imma nap for half an hour.” He opened the door to his room and crawled into bed, falling asleep almost instantly. 'Half an hour' was a bit of an underestimation. The night passed by the king as he rolled around in his bed, his body trying to catch up on days of missed sleep all at once. He wouldn't hear many things. He wouldn't hear Fiona checking in on him, standing at the door for a while before leaving back to her room. He wouldn't hear the various men who were waiting by the king's bedroom for him to wake up. And he wouldn't hear the clamour of the castle as the morning came and some new news baffled the war room. There was a piranha waiting outside of the king's room when he would finally wake up late in the morning. "Scourge's files weren't the only things they took," she informed the king. "They gave your old enemies a gift." The old enemies in question appeared to be a copy of that tabloid newspaper Scourge had turned to before. "King COVERS CRIMES of MURDERER, ADULTERER, FELON," the cover proudly declared. The king was only a small photo of him taken at an unflattering angle in the middle of saying a word. Instead, the focus of the paper was a massive, blurry photo of Castillo entering the castle and laughign with the king, an old mugshot pasted in the corner. The page with the actual article was doggy-eared, and just as extravagantly capitalized and arranged as the cover. "THE ROYAL HOMOCIDE! - Who is the mystery friend that assaulted the king, as covered in our special edition 'Alternates Attack!' edition? The Daily Hog has dug into this mystery man's past! Police records gifted to us by the Royal Police show that he was driving a car that mowed down innocent pedestrian Gamma White years ago!" Accompanied was a picture of a young boar couple... and right there in the photo was the man seen at the bank. A formal picture to make them seem like innocent civilians, no doubt. The article went on and on, accusing Scourge of everything from bribery to blackmail to hacking to delete these alleged charges off of his police record. "Examined their systems," The piranha said, "and they're just scum, not illegal scum. All the stolen police files were emailed to them from a temporary server." "Wake Castillo up. I’m going to drag his hide through the mud.” The king ordered and marched down to the war room.

“Manic, go sleep. ” scourge told him, nudging his shoulder gently. The rest of the staff were ordered to keep working every angle, including Castillo’s priors.

Sonic had shown up and had stopped the king to pull him aside. “Scourge… It's been three days since she was last seen. This doesn’t look-”

“Zonic, shut your damn mouth before you need it wired shut. I’m not in the mood to talk to you.” Scourge pushed past him but the zone cop grabbed his shirt.

“Scourge, for cases like hers, the bad guys usually-”

“Zonic I’m warning you. Shut the ever loving fuck up.”

“She’s way over the average length victims are kept​ alive! Her and Terra are probably dead-”

Scourge punched Zonic so hard he went flying into a wall. The cop had the air knocked out of him, but otherwise was fine. He got up and opened his mouth, but the king spoke first.

“Get the fuck out. Unless you’ve got relevant information pertaining to this, I don’t want to hear it.” The already blazing tensions were punctuated with the sound of Zonic crashing into the wall, and the room fell silent. There was still hope they could get the victims out of this, even if it was starting to look slim. There was no delivery of the bodies or anything, there had to be a chance they were still out there. Manic helped Zonic to his feet, with Zonic and Scourge sharing a death glare as the two left the war room in utter silence. It was merely a few minutes before Castillo was escorted in, joined by Zonic. He seemed to still be collecting himself when he got up to the king, thinking of just the right words. "I have. NO IDEA. What those assholes are planning." Castillo said, sounding angry but his posture implying a great deal of shame. "If I knew Radon was in this mess, I'd've-!" What would he have done? All this meant was Radon had a way to get revenge at Scourge. "That woman ran onto the street at night, she was wearing all black - I didn't see her 'til it was too late. I don't know why Rosy was there, maybe she shoved her, maybe she was- I don't know." His voice went into a growl and he clutched his head as he relived memories, intense trauma coming out as anger to give him some mental strength. "I spent a MONTH getting shot up by that bat. It wasn't bribery or some shit, it wasn't investigated because she didn't let the police find me. I wasn't given enough to eat, she just kept getting the doses higher and higher-! If I could go back, I'd've avoided the boar and run that whore down right there." The pause was wrenching as almost everyone in the room silently took in the information. "You might be able to trade me for Terra... if you can talk to 'em." "That could work. The only reason Aria hasn’t broken herself out yet is probably because she’s worried about Terra. I doubt she’d care if they shot you”

Cold. The king was slowly starting to become more and more apathetic. More like the ghost that had possessed him. He didn’t even look at the others. When Damian hopped through on a warp ring, the tension made him consider going back. But the sight of the pig onscreen stopped him

“Is this who has her?” He asked, grabbing for a chair.

“Yup.” Was all that Scourge said, watching the others emotions.

“He looks…. Familiar.”

The room stopped again. This was at least good news. "Should be." Castillo said simply. "He was at the station robbery." "No, you've got it wrong, I mean I know where I've heard a description of this boar before." Damian went on, pulling up some old photos. A successful doctor Damian used to work with, in fact, who had filed a police report not long before the kidnapping occurred. The description matched the photo of this suspect perfectly, and as luck would have it, they happened to both be involved in the same club at one time... ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ Whatever was in the food they were given was keeping them feeling dizzy, even barely conscious through their fear. But at least they had been provided the smallest of amenities - sight. The blackout lenses were temporarily removed, not that it could give them much space to see. The bed was hastily crammed into this glorified closet, and whatever windows were high on the walls had been thoroughly and totally covered with boards, duct tape, and outward pointing nails. There was no coming off. Once again, there was snoring out the door, and some kind of scuffle through the far wall. They were sleeping for the night. At least, the boar waiting at the door was. Whatever it was, the wooden door creaked open- it was unlocked. For just a few moments, the door was unlocked, showing off another tiny room with a boar sleeping in a small metal chair, and a small set of tiny spiraling metal stairs leading upwards. Aria's head rolled, her neck jelly as she was unable to focus her eyes, so she just kept them closed. She was the stairs and the chair but she couldn’t make sense of their meaning. The bat and her had clung onto each other for dear life once they were left alone, both shivering and shaking. Kisses, little ones, were used to comfort each other. The thought never passed their lips. But aria could imagine the only reason they were allowed to see their captors was that she was about to be killed.

"Terra… I’m sorry. This is all my fault..” She whispered to the bat, head on her shoulder as they cuddled close for warmth. The bat nuzzling into her hair and shushed her mate.

“You did nothing wrong… We’re gonna get out of here soon okay? Everyone is gonna find us and then we can go home and live our lives in peace… We can go on vacation, hmm? To the ocean. You love the ocean”

“I’ve never been to the ocean and you hate it.” Aria gave her mate a small smile, snuggling closer.

“Regardless. I promise, nothing bad will happen so long as we’re together.” The bat kissed her gently on the mouth as the door opened and the moth stepped in.

“Get up Portal wench. We’ve got another target to hit.” This theft lasted shorter than they normally would. Terra and Radon didn't even come along. Bobtail kept a death grip on Aria the whole time as she struggled to open a warp. How far were they from Scourge's kingdom? Very, very far, clearly. The warp scratched into a less secure facility than normal. They weren't even stealing anything valuable, they were picking up food at a closed grocery store! They picked up pastas, canned foods, filling a cart quickly with whatever caught their eye. If the lights weren't off and Aria wasn't being clenched by Bobtail's claws sharpened to a fine point, it would have felt like just a normal shopping trip. "And when we're done with Aria, we could always try again." The moth said as she quickly took meat from the freezer in the butcher's area. "I'm almost thinking we could keep her around. She was a loyal wench for the fox, wasn't she? Of course, then we'd have to find someone else for you to have fun on..." Bobtail pushed the overflowing cart as they stocked up on foods of all kinds. "She looks like she's bleed real pretty too." He complimented. "I hope you know how generous we're being," The moth said. They couldn't stay for much longer, but had more than enough to last a while. "We're feeding you, giving you a job... you love kids, don't you? Have you even taken care of a little kitten? Maybe one with gorgeous wings like mine?" "Let's try to knock you up again tonight." Bobtail said, walking up to the moth who was happy to stand there as she was felt up by the cat. "We might let the red kid live long enough to see the baby... if she plays nice." All Aria could do was shiver. She was scared, she was cold. The portal at the entrance had to remain open, or she would over exert herself and faint in the grocery store. She followed along, allowing herself to be dragged like a ragdoll. Compliant but with no extra movement.

"I would be honored ma'am, seeing as I am unable to bear any of my own,” she said, acting more like a servant than a hostage. They had broken her. They had won. She was a prisoner again, a slave to less than moral people if only to keep the light in her life alive.

At least on the outside. On the inside boiled some primal rage that she’d never felt before. Part of her wanted to attack the two, kill them on the spot. But at the risk of loosing her mate, she did nothing. Merely rubbed the ring on her finger, a new addition from the week before they had been taken. It was a promise and it represented so much more than she was willing to admit.

When Bobtail returned to the cart, he nudged her. In her weak state, she fell, and scraped her claws on the tile after scratching herself. No one noticed and she was hauled to her feet and taken back to the portal, their trip over.

The security footage and evidence was handed over to the cops the next morning. It was on the king's desk by afternoon. The stocking up of foods, most of the kinds of foods they took, it only confirmed the theory. They always warped to this same place. This same room with boarded windows. At this point, Radon was awake, and helped the two others carry all the various foods up the stairs. Aria was quickly brought back to her room. "Why shouldn't we get her to carry the food, she's ours." Bobtail said. "You're so stupid~" The moth insulted her lover with a smile. "She less she knows about where she is, the happier we'll all be." Aria was left in an exhausted pile on the floor of her tiny room, watching as everyone went up and down the tiny stair case and took every bit of food away from the abused pair. The footsteps above her walked down the building, and she could once again hear the two lovers enter their room. Radon was gone down into somewhere else in the structure. She was woozy. She was terrified. She was broken. And she was absolutely starved. The others were gone for the night, and all that delicious food begged to the hedgehog and the bat... Arias shivers had grown and she started to cry uncontrollably. Soft sobs turned to wails as the bat crawled over to her and held her close. Inspecting the cut and using a strip of fabric from her shirt to use as a bandage. The tears subsided as she was in the hands of her lover. Treated with love, with care.

”…I’m…I’m a slave to someone all over again… T-terra I can’t… I can’t do this again! And-and they’re gonna kill you when they’re done with me and use me as a nanny and-“

"Shhh, shh shhh shhh shortcake. Shhhhh… Don’t cry. They aren’t killing me. I won’t let them. No, I’m staying with you… No matter what they want me to do, I’m yours. All yours… Now are you tired?”

She nodded, and Terra carried her to the bed, laying her down on it and snuggling up next to her. The food was forgotten. They had no need to aggravate their captors any further. As they cuddled, Terra brushed arias hair out of her face.

“Sweet dreams”

~°~°~°~°~°~

The king and Manic were at the grocery store, attempting to open up Aria's portal. Due to how long it had been there, the signature was left long enough for a warp to open.

And out jumped a fish.

“What the…” The king stared, having caught the fish. He tossed it back through and stuck his head through the portal.

“They’re in the middle of the ocean apparently… That doesn’t make sense.” "What's not to make sense," Manic said. He'd put it together. It took a moment to register that the king was genuinely confused. "Look... Radon knew that doctor friend Damian had. They knew through a yatch club, a yatch is stolen and all radio communications cut- Aria's so tired cause she's not warping domestically. She's warping from the yatch. They're somewhere out on the open ocean..." He looked through the warp at the endless sea. Miles of open water were visible all around him, and not a single boat. "Get a satellite phone," Manic demanded. "We'l make a call through the warp, and we'll know the general area. We've almost found them, kingy." A second warp was opened and a satellite phone was brought. The coordinates were taken down and a navy officer from a neighboring kingdom was summoned to help located the boat, due to the fact that their homeland was landlocked

"Okay, assume they’re running at top speed and search radially from there. I want that boat found!” He ordered, and the second warp was used to send the captain back to his ship. So close. They were so close.

“So what do we do if we find them?” A young navy seal asked.

“Keep an eye on them and I’ll warp to the boat and fight them.” The king insisted. But was stopped by Damian.

“Not with that heart of yours. I’ll go. She’s my sister”

“You’ve got a child. I’m not risking your life on this”

As they bickered and fought, Scourge's pacemaker would steady his heart, unnoticed by all. "I'm going," Scourge said. Not the king, Manic's husband. They turned to face the felon as he stood at the edge of the room, looking dead set on his decision. "I started this bullshit, I'm ending it." "WE'RE ending it," Manic said, walking up next to him. "Aria's my friend, I'm not letting you go in there alone." He stopped facing his husband and turned to face the two bickering men. "And I'm guessing you aren't taking a no for an answer, are you?" Manic didn't need an answer. "Fine, we're all going." He stretched his arms in front of himself, cracking his knuckles. "You sure you can fight off those three?" Castillo asked, shifting how he stood. "Bobtail and Radon are pretty fucked up. Don't know why Chrysalis is there too, ain't a great fighter..." "Four on three. Two speedsters, a wild card, and someone with claws so sharp they're finer than any other medical blade known to man. We should be fine.” The king insisted.

“Four on four at least. Don’t think that they won’t make Aria fight. She’s just as deadly, even when she isn’t trying. No. Our battle plan is to get Terra out. Aria… Aria can handle herself once her girlfriend is safe. In fact, that’s all that’s keeping the bad guys alive. None of you have seen it, but shes gotten the bad temper of our ancestors. I’m talking pure, unadulterated​ rage. It's scary.” Damian explained, stretching himself out as well and extending his claws to inspect them. The shiny black blades were spotless.

“I’ll be right back. Imma go tell Fiona what we found and ask if she wants to come too.” The king ran off through a portal back to the castle. He found her with Faolán and pulled her aside, explaining everything. "You're gonna get her back?!" The child peeped, eyes widening in excitement at the idea. Fiona smiled at the child briefly, but took the news more sternly. She pulled the king aside to speak to him out of earshot of her child. "You know how dangerous this is," Fiona had to warn him, looking down at the floor. "Bobtail's infamous for his... maiming." She tensed up at the thought of exactly what he did. "I don't want Fao to have to lose anyone." "That’s why I’m going after Bobtail personally. Castillo and Manic are gonna find the girls. Damian is going to find Radon. I’m not putting them in danger if I can. They’ve got families.”

Self sacrificial. Once again, the king left the last shred of self preservation that he had, not with the futures of two very small and very cute children in his hands. He wouldn’t let them become half orphans. But he still tilted her chin up and smiled at her.

“Come on. You know me. I can handle this guy. I’m the fastest thing alive, remember?” He joked, purposely making himself look like an ass to make her smile. He made sure Faolán wasn’t watching, and kissed her in the cheek.

“Consider that a promise. When I get back, you can kick my ass for it.” The king walked off, and met up with everyone else. They were all getting ready for their rescue mission, including Kevlar vests and several other tricks.

“Ready gentleman?” "Just about," Manic said. "We're waiting on the final warp coordinates, but they've pretty much got 'em." "Not yet..." Castillo left hurriedly, searching through the halls until he found his son and former lover in front of their guest room. Without a word, He knelt down, huggin ghis child tightly. All the talk had just been getting him more concerned, and he at least had a vague idea of what this kind of hug meant. "You're gonna come back, right?" He asked. Scourge just patted his back. "We'll be fine, kid." It held for much longer than even Scourge expected it to. There was one final look between Fiona and Scourge before he left, both webbed with labyrinths of emotion, and a beg from Fiona not to die and leave Fao alone. And he was gone. The warp coordinates were starting to be pressed, they didn't have time to wait. "Warp coordinates are set to go. A coast guard's waiting at these coordinates with a motorboat, you'll be no more than 1000 feet from the ship," They were informed, to a diagram of the type of ship in question. "There's a small dock in the hull for a lifeboat, that's how you're entering. Are you prepared?" Manic nodded first. "Totally." Scourge grabbed his brass knuckles, and slid them on. "Is everyone clear on the plan? Castillo and Manic, find the girls. Damian you find Radon. I’m going after Bobtail.”

“What about the other one? The moth lady?”

“She’s not a good fighter apparently. Should be an easy attack…” Scourge strapped a few extra knives to his body, and a handgun in his pocket. Castillo returned and the warp was opened. Scourge was saluted by the navy captain and they all hopped through, staying silent and nervous.

The boat was fast and quiet. Once they were in sight of the yacht in question, the engine was cut and they drifted alongside the boat. Scourge had the captain drop the anchor. The yatch sat patiently. The tiny lifeboat was docked, and the four males stepped over the tiny raft silently, onto the small amount of foothold and started to climb the latter up the boat. Castillo took lead with Manic right behind him, quietly pushing the hatch open onto the main deck. The boat was far from land. VERY far. While it was noon in the kingdom, the sky here was already jet black. This far out, the stars were in full view, but there was little time for sightseeing. The interior of the ship's deck was massive and totally dark. The small flashlight Scourge held spotted a set of stairs in the ship, and they approached the door. Drip. All three stood back as Scourge flinched at the feeling of a drip of some kind. There was some kind of a sitting area on the flydeck that Scourge climbed a ladder to view... Even under the darkness, the three could watch Scourge's face turn colors. Bobtail's work was thorough. Radon was laying on the deck. There were too many cuts across his chest to count from those claws, barely deep enough to bleed, but they covered almost all of his body alongside what looked like chemical burns. Scraps of flesh and skin dangled from his chest, and the many thin cuts bled into a dripping puddle on the deck, almost as much as the massive bludgeon he'd endured to the head. Worst of all, there was a single deep cut in his ribs, not penetrating organs but intended to make him bleed fatally, and what was once the boar's tail lay severed on the hardwood deck. The boar only needed to take a glance at the confused hedgehog to fight through his pain. In a second Scourge was struggling to grab his knife as the felon shoved the stunned hedgehog off balance, only to wrap his severed tail around the hedgehog's neck and attempt to strangle the hedgehog. Manic balked in fear, almost petrified at what he was seeing. Damian was the first to react, grabbing the pig from behind and choking him. The doctor only had to reach under the others arms to use his claws, slicing the tail off of Castillo’s neck and restraining the pig.

“Easy there big guy. Easy. If you simmer down I can heal you up and you won’t die from all the blood loss. But struggling with your heart rate elevated like this will only make it happen faster.”

Of course, the king just punched the other square in the snout and he passed out. He was horrified at the bobcat's level of sadism.

“Okay… Okay heal him up enough so he won’t die and have the guards come and get him. Aria and Terra are more important. They’re probably being held below deck.”

The hedgehog made quick work, and several guards snuck quietly onto the boat and carried the boar off. Scourge pulled up a floorplan of the yacht on his phone and showed the others.

“The girls can be in any of these rooms, but so could stab happy psycho. You two take the left side of the hall, Damian and I will take the right side.” Scourge dictated and the team started to creep down the only hallways on the boat.

The first room was empty, but the bed was tousled. A jacket hung on the chair and a picture in a frame sat on the bedside table of a young female boar.

“Radon's room. They aren’t in here.” The king stated. They moved on to the next room. There were three rooms on either side of the hall. The closest to the stairs were small sleeping quarters. Radon's room and one empty. No one. The second rooms were full bathrooms, the one nearest Radon's room more damp and clearly used. Empty. The last two were smaller sleeping quarters fitted for single people. Nothing. A check to look in all the closets turned up nothing, either. They regrouped at the end of the hall, in a large shared sitting area with a kitchen. "Where else'd they be?" Manic asked, looking at the floorplans. "That only leaves like, the master suite...!" They were out and dashing towards the other stairs down into the isolated master suite in a second. But before they even got there, the girls were out of the tiny children's room used as their jail. Terra was sitting in a chair close to the bed Chrysalis was lounging on. Aria was laying in her lap, with her and Bobtail looking up and down Aria's body. "The boar wanted to trade you for someone else, you know." The moth's fingers felt down Aria's sides as she explained. "And he got wordy, and... Well, you know how my Bobby gets when he sees blood." Blood looked like the last thing on Bobtail's mind. While the moth's fluffy nightgown might have been comfortable, the way those gnarled, clawed fingers groped at Aria and his shameless staring was anything but. "You've been a very good girl. Bobby won't hurt you, I promise. He knows I want a turn, too." Chrysalis was past light touches, now squeezing Aria's chest shamelessly. "There's no risk if you can't have kids, right? You've been a very good girl. Do you want your prize?" She didn't have much of a choice, as Bobtail was already starting to undo her shirt. Aria thrashed around on the bed, screaming through her gag. She writhed against his hands, rendering the bobcat unable to grab her properly. Her hearing had picked up on the footsteps and she needed to buy more time. Eventually she managed to spit the gag out, tears streaming down her face.

“Wait!! Wait wait wait!! I’m sick! The reason I can’t get pregnant is because I’ve got a communicable disease that causes infertility! I had to get a hysterectomy! If you two really are trying for a baby, you’ll want to stay as far away from Terra and I as possible!” Thankfully Aria did have a scar on her lower belly that could pass for a surgical scar.

She wasn’t gonna tell them that moths and cats had a very low chance of birthing a child. She did want to live after all.

The bat still thrashed against her bonds, trying to hide the bloodlust in her eyes. Aria was too close to the others, otherwise the bat would have ripped into them.

The hesitation bought them some time, just enough for the others to slowly approach the door. Their guns locked and loaded, safeties removed. Her screaming could be heard clearl, causing Damian and Scourge to pin their ears to their heads. "You just have A communicable disease?" Chrysalis said, suddenly cold. "Does your disease have a name?" “E-english isn’t my first language. The medical term is something long that I can’t pronounce-” A simple ushering hand had Bobtail stand up, walking over to Terra and holding his claws to her neck, one of the standard threats. "You know, if you don't trust us, just say you're uncomfortable. I don't like liars. Here, we'll even take this off." She removed the tightly knotted cloth formerly wrapped around her mouth, before going to continue undoing her clothes. "I'll be very, VERY gentle. Now, I suggest you get comfortable soon, you don't wanna make Bobby angry again..." "They're all in there, ain't they?" Castillo whispered. "Who's going in first?" They just needed to get Terra safe, and then Aria could handle herself. "I froze up..." Manic admitted. "I'll go first. Scourge, just... Just make sure no matter what, you get Terra safe, okay? Even if I get messed up?" There was a quick kiss between the two, and Manic mentally prepared himself. It was go time. One foot square on the floor, one kicking near the knob. The locked door broke open, startling every occupant of the room. "Freeze, nobody move!" Manic commanded, immediately storming with his gun aimed to the moth and Scourge with his aimed to the bobcat. He was utterly sick at the sight of Aria, knowing she would have been violated if they'd waited even longer. Bobtail forced Terra to stand, using her as a shield. "Clever guys," Bobtail said, grinning. "How'd you find us? You win... now, why don't you leave? If you get any closer, something might happen to your friend..." There was a quick click from across the room. Chrysalis stood behind Aria, pocket pistol in hand and aimed square for Manic's head.

When the door was kicked in, Aria fluffed up her quills a little bit, startled by the loud noise. When she heard Manics voice, she almost cried. She turned to Bobtail and begged. “Sir, give her back. She’s useless to you. I promise I’ll be good and I’ll let you at me however you want just please let her go!”

Damian was almost sick at the sight of his sister begging her captors to release the bat. The bribe offering her body up made him visibly angry and uncomfortable. Scourge felt much the same way.

Terra struggled a little, begging her mate not to do something stupid though the gag around her mouth.

In true Mexican standoff fashion, everyone had a weapon pointed at them. The room grew silent save for aria begging.

“Please ma'am. I promise you’ll never have to see anyone in here again. Just please let her go. I’ll do anything you want.” She continued to beg, shaking again. Bobtail and Chrysalis were many things, but they weren't stupid. They knew about their relationship. They'd seen the rings. Aria might have been willing to revolt if she didn't have her partner's life at risk. "Absolutely not," Chrysalis said. "We're giving you three seconds to start backing out of the room. Three... two..." Manic didn't want to back up. "Please, we can come to-" There was one bang. Then a second, and a third, all from a new revolver in Bobtail's hands. All stood silent for a moment after the shots were fired. The drummer was trying to stay on his feet, truly, but his legs began to quiver. In a moment, Manic toppled to the floor, clutching the new marks in his chest. Scourge channeled all that fear and anger into aiming straight for Bobtail, like Manic had requested. Chrysalis glared back at the group. "We said leave," she reiterated. While she was trying to act stern, there was a brief pause as she looked to Damian. Was he...? No, she must have been thinking of someone else. But still... Her confidence was marked with confusion as she couldn't put a finger on who this person was. Damian dragged Manic back, healing him up behind the cover of the green hedgehogs. The bullets were dug out with his claws and with a soft healing glow, Manic was good as new.

Aria saw the confusion and took the opportunity to tackled the woman, forcing the moth onto her back on the bed, and biting into her wrist so hard that blood was drawn in an effort to get her to drop the pistol.

Terra stumbled back and smashed Bobtail’s head off the wall, dropping like a stone to give the boys a clear shot. A cut on her neck started dripping blood and she managed to scramble out of the cat’s reach. Close enough for Damian to grab her and drag her back behind the wall of protection to be healed.

That left Aria. And she was looking rather angry. As she bit into the moths arm, she felt a crunch or two as the delicate bones in her wrist were broken. As she wailed out in pain, Aria was pulled off of the moth by the bobcat.

She struggled, slamming every part of her body against him as hard as she could. The claws came out and now it was a one on one fight between two borderline crazy individuals. Aria spat out the blood that was in her mouth and rushed at Bobtail, starting to scratch at him. With longer claws she had the advantage, and soon he was peppered with cuts.

The moth grabbed her from behind, choking her. At this point, the king finally had a clear shot and started firing at Bobtail, the bullets hitting their mark. He dropped like a stone.

Aria managed to pin the moth to the wall, claws at her throat. Her growl was far more sadistic than anyone had expected to hear. She was angry and looking for blood. No one was stopping her.

“You think this was gonna be a quick death? Unlikely. I’m going to tear you apart~ now, how about these pretty wings, hmm? They’ll make a wonderful trophy.”

The king had the forethought to cover Terra's eyes as aria clawed the moths wings off. There were many things that Scourge had seen. There were many things that Damian had seen. There were many things Manic's husband had seen. But for all his criminal ties, Manic had never watched someone die. The sight of Bobtail twitching and heaving blood on the ground would have been bad enough, but the terrifying crunches as her delicate wings were stretched off scared him so much, he didn't even thing before acting. He could only move. "Stop... Stop, Ari, stop!" Manic screamed. As angry as he was, he couldn't stand to watch for another second, and in a moment, the fringed hedgehog was trying his damned to stop Aria from totally dismembering the moth. ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ The war room was quite busy. Fiona, Shade, countless people stood around, listening to the recording, watching the grainy footage and trying to tell what needed to be said or done. There was only one person not in the war room that wasn't going castle work. Namely, a little wolf, who had snuck away off into a guest room that hadn't been used for a while. The TV was turned on, but he struggled to find the right channel for his favorite cartoon. This would be quite hard, as not only were the channels different, but it wouldn't air for another hour in this new timezone. Instead, he found a news channel. A channel that was showing pictures of his dad, his stepdad, and their two friends, around footage of some ship with bright lights being shined on it from helicopters. He only possessed basic phonetic skills, but he could put together the flashing words in the corner; 'Breaking News.' "...The ship 'The Sickly Leech' was stolen days before the crime spree had begun, and security expects speculate this is where the victims have been kept the time. We're just now receiving word that the final two suspects have been captured. A moth known as Chrysalis was left in critical condition, and is currently undergoing extensive medical attention. Her partner, Bobtail, was pronounced dead at the scene." But they didn't stick around, leaving the medical care to the professionals. Aria was warped straight to a medical facility far from the middle of the ocean. Manic and the Scourges sat outside the office and only thought about what they had witnessed, while Aria and Terra were left to cling to each other. They had survived hell. They were warm. They were safe. After they were cleaned off of the blood, patched up and left to themselves, Aria started to whine, sobbing into Terra's chest as she clung desperately to her. She sobbed. The doctors couldn’t pry them apart for anything, and for the moment they left them to cope with their trauma.

“I-I almost lost you,” she cried to the bat, constantly moving to heave up air and what looked like coffee grounds into a bucket. The blood she had accidentally swallowed was being purged from her system.

Damian knocked on the door, wanting to see if she was okay. But the sounds of heaving and sobs made him hesitate, looking over at the others. Relieved but concerned. "You're not gonna get in," Manic said quietly. Damian's worn surgical scrubs gave away just how much work had to be done on Chrysalis. They could only imagine how the doctors watching Radon would be doing. "I'm guessing her wings are done for... What did Aria do to her?" “The least. I’ve seen much worse. From other people, from her. You stopped her. It could have been worse.” The doctor shrugged. It wasn't long after the moth's surgery that the police would come in, quietly pulling the king aside to speak. It didn't take long for someone to protest. "That's all well and good, but you can't pardon someone just because they're your friend." An officer said to the king, in spite of their own powerlessness. "Even if she was kidnapped and traumatized, she dismembered a pregnant woman, she at least needs to be psychologically evaluated."

The king, in turn sighed. He thought about it, silently.

“Fine. Fine, you get your evaluation. But not now. Not tonight. She’s heaving up her guts, and unable to focus. Now kindly leave gentlemen. Your presence is not desired here. Maybe go guard the real criminals.”

Scourge turned and walked over to Glare, reading over a paper or two and signing the bottom. He walked up to Manic.

“I have to go to a press conference. The people want to know what happened. You gonna stay here?”

The answer was obvious and the king left. The cops stuck around, waiting.

Inside, aria finished voiding the contents of her stomach and passed out. She was pulled in close by Terra and snuggled. Manic and Scourge just sat with each other. They couldn't enter and interrupt, they needed all the recovery time they could get. The same could go for Manic and Scourge, after witnessing Manic being shot. The spots in the center of his chest where the bullets had hit him were technically healed, but they felt like they were distressingly hollow. So they leaned against each other, kissing and worrying about everything that had just passed. "Did you see what they were wearing?" Manic asked Scourge, in an attempt to keep things lighter. "Engagement rings." He ruffled Manic's quills. "Guess we're gonna have to send another-" "NO!" Manic's shout was intentionally exaggerated just for effect, though the smile gave away just how lightly he was taking the comment. "How much have you spent on that stuff, anyways?!" "Not enough if it ain't worked yet." He schmoozed, already reaching for his phone. "I'm placing another order right now~" This comment was only met with a playful punch to the arm. "You're lucky my ring's too nice to break your nose with." Aria laid in Terras arms, ears pressed as close as she could physically get to her heartbeat. She needed to know her mate was alive, that it wasn’t some dream to pull her away from the horrible reality she had been living in. The bat pet her gently, holding on just as tight.

“You finished throwing up, shortcake?” She asked, offering her mate a sip of water. Aria took it and reached for her mate's hand, playing with her ring.

“What a shitty honeymoon.” Was all she said, voice hoarse as she tried to joke.

“What did I tell you? For better or for worse you’re stuck with me. I just… Wasn’t expecting that.” The bat joked back, kissing Aria's forehead again.

Hours passed, and after the psych evaluation they determined that Aria's starving, dehydrated, drugged state was the cause of the psychotic break. For the most part. Of course there were several doctors interested in such a case, and there were always going to be stragglers wanting to come in to ask more questions to the couple, and in the end, Damian ended up making sure no one came in out of nowhere to see Aria. And then someone came in out of nowhere to see Aria. "Special delivery for, uh... Aria?" A young deliveryman said. A one time exception to an otherwise strict set of rules on Damian's part. The mole shared very few words with the two inside before leaving the present for Aria, a moderately size bouquet of flowers. Carnations, roses, and lilies, in list pinks and rich purples. Scourge was already asleep at this point, sitting up in the waiting area chair, so even if he wanted, he wouldn't have been able to see Aria's reaction to the note tied to the ribbon. "I keep fucking up so badly, I wanna say sorry to your face - Scourge" In Aria's half conscious state, she wouldn’t notice the contents of the bouquet, merely sneezing once or twice before snuggling back up to the bat. Terra however, made sure the flowers were put as far away from the hedgehog as possible.

“He means well, but there are lilies in the bundle and you don’t need to be kept up at night by sneezing.” The bat insisted when Aria's various noises indicated her confusion.

The night was mostly uneventful. A few nightmares here and there from both girls, but nothing too horrible. The next morning had Aria climbing out of the hospital bed and walking her IV over to the bag that Damian had gathered from her apartment. At first she fumbled with the thick gloves she pulled from the bag, struggling to undo the thick Velcro straps. She got it eventually, and returned to bed to stare at her wife. Her eyes drifted along the curves of the bats form, and in a horrid moment of flashbacks and image association, her brain imagined Terra where the moth had been less than 24 hours before. Terra’s wings were far stronger than the moth’s, but Aria knew that it wouldn’t take much pressure to break Terra’s -

No. she wasn’t gonna go there. She refused to even entertain the thought. Thankfully, the king showed up with breakfast, waking up Castillo and Manic on the way in. Manic and Scourge's attempts to comfort were very different. Manic was in the camp of getting a little quieter and acting calmer. Scourge more focused on acting casual, the same as always. And when they entered, it was already obvious that they were doing their best to try and be comforting. "Heeeey, Ari." Manic said with a nervous smile. Almost everything he wanted to say would have only hurt the case. "How are you feeling, dude?" Scourge stsood to the side and watched the conversation, letting the two talk about their trauma. The flowers had arrived, he could see that, but they were placed far from Aria and weren't even acknowledged. He was going to need something good to come into the conversation with. "We saw those rings," He eventually said. "Congrats. When's the wedding?" “Ah.. Um… How long-”

“A week,” the king said, offering her the food he brought. The two ate greedily, trying to fill empty bellies as politely as possible.

She counted on fingers and blushed a little, playing with Terra's hands “Um… Last week.”

“Yeah, but when’s the wedding?” The king prompted.

“Last week. We.. We got married that day that I was planning that romantic evening… I’m sorry.” She pressed her ears to her head, having lost her fire. Now she was afraid that the boys would react badly. She needed to change the subject.

“Thanks for the flowers… They’re really pretty but I’m -” she interrupted her sentence with a sneeze or two.

“-allergic to lilies” That comment caught Scourge and Manic by surprise. The two glanced between each other subtly. "Uh, Manic, you go and-" "I can't go, we've gotta have the whole wedding afterparty right here!" Manic said, walking close to the bashful eaters. "Come on, you guys just gonna sit around eating hospital food and crap? No, we're gonna take y'all someplace fancy and celebrate!" Manic sat a short distance from Aria, patting her back to give her comfort but also offering space. "Hey, Scourge can use his warp ring in this zone, right? We could head back to my homecity." His massive fringe hit against itself as he wrenched his head around to look at Scourge. "How's Mezzaluna sound?" "Overpriced and snooty," Scourge responded. "Perfect." “No. No I don’t wanna draw any attention to us any more than we have to.” She insisted. She seemed slightly uncomfortable with the hand on her arm, but said nothing.

Terra nodded in agreement. “I don't want a big fuss either. Especially not after what happened. Once this all goes away, then maybe. But for now, I’ve got all I need right here.” She nuzzled her mate's cheek gently as Aria's broken purr sounded. It was so out of use it almost hurt to listen to it.

“I’m sorry… Again.” she mumbled quietly, still very afraid of the backlash.

“Hey, it's okay. You’ve been though a lot. Did you want us to tell anyone?”

The newlyweds looked up at each other. Conversing quietly amongst themselves.

“Yeah. Tell Damian and Fiona. But no one outside of that group.” Manic smiled and nodded. "We can bring any celebration you want right here. Nobody's gonna hear, trust me." Even as he tried to put on enthusiasm, he was still going to get serious. It was inevitable after everything that had happened. "I've kinda been following the news and all that crap," Manic said. "I mean, there's a lot of coverage, but they ain't saying you two were the victims. You aren't gonna get hounded by press or anything, try not to worry about that stuff." "How's it looking for 'em?" Scourge asked finally, not realizing exactly what he was saying until it was too late. The pause weighed heavy. "Radon survived somehow. Chrysalis is getting a lot of surgery, but she's probably going to live. But Scourge's bullets..." “Guys. Not the time… Besides, how was I supposed to know he was on blood thinners?” The king defended himself and Aria.

Aria curled up into herself and covered her ears. She didn’t wanna hear it. She was far more sensitive to this than Terra was, probably due to the fact that she indirectly killed someone. Scourge was taking it better, but was still bothered clearly. At Terra’s insistence they all left.

“Maybe Faolán should pop in… It may make all three of them feel better…” The king started. It was easy to arrange, and the green hedgehogs hurried to find the little wolf who had wandered off in the castle. Getting to head out somewhere with his dad was all the incentive he needed. Getting to finally see Aria again made him feel like he'd won the lottery. "Ari!" That little voice could he heard yelling before he was even in their room. Small claws scratched against the floor as he rushed up to Aria, hopping onto the hospital bed and giving her a bear hug. He was so close to losing one of his friends, he couldn't help but hug her. He only pulled back when he noticed Aria's hand, followed by Terra's. "Woooah." He said, taking a close look at Aria's ring before looking back up with a toothy smile. "You guys got friendship rings!" Aria was surprised to hear tiny footstep, but hugged Faolán tightly, sniffling quietly as she hugged him and trying not to cry.

Terra rubbed Faolán’s back, and both laughed when he mentioned the rings. He was pet and scratched behind the ears as the couple snuggled close.

“No sweetie… We got married.” She insisted, kissing his forehead. She wanted to see Fiona too, but the tiny bundle of joy was enough. He looked up at the newlyweds, looking vaguely confused. The wolf wore his feelings quite clearly on his face, so Aria could watch as he realized these facts for himself. Ooh, THAT'S why she kept bringing her friend over! "Woah..." He said, realizing he'd missed this entire relationship going on in front of him. "But don't you have to have a wedding, and cake, and dresses? Are you havin' it soon? Is Muttski gonna be there?" “Ah… Maybe not for a little while yet. My family does things a little differently than your father and Manic did… It's a little complicated. So tell me how school has been.”

She prompted him to talk, even if it was about nothing at all. Faolán’s innocence was a welcome change from all the somber adults and the traumatic situation both Aria and Terra had been through. A breath of fresh air. As aria happily listened to Faolán’s chatter, Terra merely held onto her wife. Maybe one day they might have their own child, but that time was far away. Still, it was a nice dream.

The king sat down and rubbed the bridge of this nose, sighing. He needed a break and a drink badly. The subtle scent of smoke that came in with him hinted at his nervous habit of puffing on a cigarette when he got overwhelmed. Fao could find a way to talk about anything for a while. The arts projects they worked on in class? The room at the castle? Some foreign soap opera he found flipping through channels? No matter what, he could talk with a simple fascination. Scourge and Manic wanted to watch the child talk on and on, finding this just as theraputic. Scourge was alone in that moment. Some doors closed outside, followed by a nurse quietly saying, "Ma'am, you can't smoke outside the building." The couples and the little boy didn't notice a single word of that. Out of the corner of his eye, Scourge would see a uniformed ram motioning for someone to put out a cigarette as they walked inside. The vague flicker of a tail he saw was immediately identifiable, if the voice wasn't. Soon, she was walking towards the room, creaking the door open ssilently. "Where's the smoking room?" Fiona asked quietly. “There isn’t one. Come on, let’s go outside until you’re finished. Besides, you can kick my ass better out there."

The last time he had seen her, he’d kissed her. Something he didn’t regret. But that was an internal thought and one she wasn’t liable to hear.

"She’s doing… Well… Better than what she was. Still scared as hell though. The nurses say the nightmares are really bad unless Terra and her share the bed. It's… Scary. We almost lost them.”

He sat on a bench and looked up at her.

“So you gonna hit me or what?” He joked, lightening the mood. Fiona was taking her time smoking. She took in the smoke slowly, drawing out the relaxation. That week had been rough on everyone, and felt like much longer than it was. She was more or less expecting this cigarette to make up for a terrible week of stress, and wasn't succeeding. "She's a good kid," Fiona said finally. "Kind of square, but good. Wish she didn't have to deal with this..." Another long drag. "What did they do to her?" "Drugged. Starved. If we hadn’t got there when we did it would have been much much worse. She’s safe now, and that’s all that matters… I guess I should tell you, you know that day when she was cooking that dinner for Terra? You and Faolán were out of the house all night I think…. Anyways, they got married. Aria is now Mrs. Bat”

He puffed on his own cigarette, but then crushed it under his heel. “I need something stronger to smoke than this.”

“You gonna go see her?” The amount of time he had to wait for an answer told him plenty on its own. "My men failed," she said quietly, "And all this shit happened. She won't have to pay her hospital bills..." She knew Aria would likely forgive her, and if she didn't, that was the end of that. But regret and fear weren't the only things on Fiona's mind. "Thank you. For finding Aria, I mean." She was still looking away, not wanting to face a Scourge head on as she said those last few words. "You're a good king." "Your men failed nothing. Their job is to protect you, and since you weren’t home they didn’t notice. Aria isn’t mad at you, I promise. No one blames you for anything.”

He was taken aback by the compliment but smiled a little at her. “Thank you. Coming from you that means a lot.”

He patted the seat next to him for her to join him. She would have to go in eventually but they could wait. Fiona mostly sat in silence, smoking away and trying to stay calm. There were many mixed emotions, and Fiona wished she could just get rid of them all. She couldn't, all she could do was cope. And for how pissed she was at the king before, she needed plenty of time to cope. "You brought up some bad shit for me just by... existing." She said, not realizing how blunt the words sounded as they came out. "I fucked up bad. I'm probably going to get that pissed again for no reason." She just felt- well, if asked, broken would have been the word that would come out, but humbled would be more accurate. "Don't take it personally when it happens, I'm just... an ass." She looked down at the cigarette, watching as the tiny bit left crumbled to ash and fell to the ground. One more heavy sigh sent smoke flowing in the air in front of her. "I’m… Aware that my presence may be jarring… Or uncomfortable… I’m kind of annoying, really. But if you want me to leave you alone, just say the words and you’ll only hear from me when any of the group talks about me or something to that effect. I do care about you and if me not being around would help you then I’m gone…”

Scourge lit a cigarette of his own, the thin trails of smoke leaving his mouth as well. He watched the trail curl in the air and disappear. They sat in silence for a bit longer, the king leaning his head back on the bench and closing his eyes as he exhaled.

He was tired. Very tired. They all were. But really, what could he do? He was needed by everyone at the hospital and this was his first chance to relax. In the stressful week, the bags under his eyes had gotten worse, and so had the shallow wrinkles around his mouth. His laugh lines were prominent, but he sure hadn’t been doing a lot of smiling as of late. Even Fiona seemed more aged than usual. Sure, she did her best to stave off even the smallest signs of aging, but tiny creases and marks would always get through. Mouth creases. She could never figure out mouth creases, and there were more than enough signs of exhaustion in the creases under her eyes mostly covered in makeup and that dazed look in her eyes. "I feel ten years older," Fiona said. She didn't quite look it, but she wasn't far off. "I need everything to stop for five minutes and let me breathe." They let smoke from the king's cigarette rise in silence. It wasn't forgiving the king, but it definitely wasn't telling him to go. Shapes spiraled and grew into the air, giving her at least something to watch. "She'll be fine, right?" ”… There’s a lot of trauma. She’ll be fine eventually, but for now she’s not at her best. She can’t even sleep without Terra next to her. Its gonna be a long time before she gets back to normal, if she ever does. But she’s still gonna be fine. She’s stronger than we all think… But the courts aren’t even taking her case. She wasn’t and still isn’t in her right mind. However the devils that kidnapped her are going to court for sure.“ He was rambling. Trying to explain it all and slowly losing his train of thought. The week of no sleep was catching up to him and he hated it. The king wanted nothing more than to fall asleep on the bench. "Ten years is an understatement. I’m far too old for this.” "No one's old enough for this crap. I want to forget everything." Sleep. Everyone needed sleep She didn't realize just how little she had been sleeping or just how heavy her eyelids felt right then and there. They all deeded to pass out and catch up on a week's worth of rest. "I'm going to talk to her," Fiona started, but she wasn't standing yet. "I owe you. For saving Aria and putting up with me and- everything." There was a fear behind her dazed eyes. "We both need a lot of sleep. Have your guards watch Fao tonight. I want to..." A nervous swallow. "I want to spend tonight with you. Without getting drunk for once, I want to remember it. I can trust you." Did she believe that in her heart, absolutely not. But she knew the king was good, even if she didn't want to really admit it. He looked over at her, a little surprised, but smiling softly at her. He wouldn’t turn down a request like that, not from her. However..

"You need a good night’s sleep first. So do I. I won’t be able to rest until tonight, and I might fall asleep on you.” He was joking clearly, but his hold off on their relations a was at the very least a logical response. He cared for her well being more than she cared for his, that was obvious to him. Regardless, she deserved respect.

“No thanks is required. But we should probably go back in before everyone wonders where we went.” He got up, put his cigarette out and offered his hand to Fiona. Us? She'd barely peeked into the room, surely they hadn't noticed, right? It seemed like she wasn't concerned when she grabbed Scourge's hand and helped herself to her feet. "If Fao's talking, he'll keep them distracted for a while," she said. A laugh came out, but she wasn't letting herself smile just yet. She was close to acting warm, just not quite there yet. When the door was opened, Faolán spun around and looked surprised at the sight of his mother. His ears drooped and his tail stopped wagging a bit, signs Fiona was used to seeing. "We can stay here, don't worry." This looked like it calmed his worries. The fox turned her attention back to Aria, instantly noticing all the major and minor signs of trauma and temporary reprieve. "I can't believe someone broke in. They're being demoted so far for letting anyone past-" There was a heavy inhale to help her calm down. "You've been through hell, ain't you? I can call down a therapist I know. If he's willing to warp to a client, anyways..."

Aria waited for Fiona to get close enough to hug as well. Faolán ended up squished between them, but not for long as Aria let go shortly after.

"I’m sorry… Just… I was worried about you. Both… All of you. It was terrifying but I’m home now and it’ll all go away… I think a therapist would be a good idea… But not today."

Aria snuggled Faolán like he was a teddy bear, but not so tight that he was unable to escape.

"You are the perfect size for hugs munchkin,” she joked with him, suppressing her trauma to make him smile. "Stoop!" The wolf smiled and giggled as Aria hugged him, but let her hug him, even if it make him blush. Faolán didn't know what happened to Aria specifically, only that it was very, very bad. A friend helps a friend, and Aria definitely seemed like she needed help. It wasn't common for it to occur. In fact, it hadn't happened in years and years, not since Manic and Scourge had moved away together. But if Aria had peeked up at just the right time and the wolf's paws weren't jokingly pushing her away, she would have seen Fiona and Scourge smiling at the same time. What was good for Aria was good for them. What was good for Faolán was good for them. And seeing them both happy after everything pushed them over the edge at just the right time. "Oh, yeah-! Mom, mom, did you hear?! About Aria and Terra and-?!" The excited smile gave away what he was about to say. "Didn't she say to keep it a secret buddy?" Manic teased, giving the child a coy smile and getting one right back. Fiona just nodded. "No one's supposed to get in with my permission." There was that smug undercurrent to her voice that always meant she knew more than she let on. "Not even a reverend." "Ah, no Reverend required. We don’t do it that way where I’m from… Besides, its more of a done deal than it is something that requires a religious figure.”

Aria motioned to the wedding bands on her finger and Terras, then continued to snuggle the little wolf. “You lil’ munchkin! Don’t go spilling secrets now!”

All was peaceful for once. Aria and Terra were left alone so everyone could go home to sleep. Aria rolled over and faced her mate, meeting her eyes.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“No. I’m just scared of what’s going to happen if this is all a dream,” Aria admitted.

“Its not. We’re safe. Its over.”

~~

At the castle, Scourge had found Fiona in the sitting room and offered her a nightcap.

“Here. Knocks you out like you wouldn’t believe.” "Thanks, but I don't need the help." She smirked a little as she took the drink. "I'm ready to pass out right now." That didn't meant she wasn't going to take the drink. Far from it, she was happy to have something to calm her nerves. The worst of it was over, it was time to celebrate. If having one glass of irish cream and passing out immediately was going to have to count for celebrating, so be it. "Thanks for letting Fao stay, too." Fiona said, not loosened up a little from the drink and smiling a bit. "He just goes on and on about sneaking out of the room and exploring." The thought made her smile, and even laugh a bit when she heard his tiny clawed feet running down one of the massive hallways. "Of course. It's the least I could do.” He raised his glass to her and smiled. “To everyone being safe and sound.”

As he savored the alcohol, he smirked. “He has almost the entire castle as his playground. Just not the old tower. That one is slated for demolition. But I locked those doors and guards are stationed there so he should be fine as long as he stays in the main building… And don’t pass out on me now, I’m far too tired to carry either of us to bed.”

He set the glass down and looked at her. “Would you mind helping me change the bandages on my chest? Nurses have gone home and I can’t do it myself.” "Hope you get some energy soon, I won't make it to bed either." Fiona was already up, returning with the bandages Scourge had requested shortly after, as those tiny clawed feet scuttled further and further until they were out of earshot. "Ah, thanks Fiona. I appreciate it.” The king pulled off his jacket and slowly undid the bandages. Faolán was running. Running and running. He loved the sound of his claws clacking against the various floors, and halls that already felt large to adults felt absolutely gargantuan to the little kit. Let's see, where had he explored already? There was that TV room down that fork to the left- Yeah, there was a fork right he hadn't looked down! The fork right took him past doors to meeting rooms, exits outside, and one old door with a greenhorn guard standing out front.  Oh, Faolán was a troublemaker in the making, he knew exactly what door he was going into. He was mostly innocent, sure, but he was still the son of a master thief and a crime boss. He knew that puppydog eyes and a good lie could get him far. "Hey, mister!" He said, running up to the guard. "He said-" Crap! He didn't have a plan, he had to fumble something together right then! "The king said he- He wants you to go to the-" What rooms had the king talked about before? "The wine room! Right now!" The command at the end was said with the same delivery his mother always used.

Faolán’s adorable nature was working exactly how he wanted it to.

“Ah, and when did we get such a young messenger?” The guard cooed, teasing the wolf. They had all been warned of a child running around, but assumed that he was just a child of one of the new servants.

“Right away young sir!” The guard bowed to leave, and Faolán was left with free reign of the great hall, now repaired except for the locked study. But there was so much more to look at!!

The space was wide open, and the marble was perfect for running. As he was in a different corner, there was movement in the opposite corner of the hall, and the sounds of someone descending the stairs.

Fiona stood there, leaning on the railing and looking less than amused with the child.

“Should you be down here young man?” Faolán was surprised at Fiona appearing out of nowhere, but not for the normal reason. She didn't look right. She wasn't wearing her makeup... or was she? She didn't have some of those wrinkles she normally did, and her clothes looked totally out of character for her. More than that, she didn't appear to be totally present, as though anything that touched her would phase right through without resistance. Like a ghost. His tail had stopped wagging and he did look apologetic, but he didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," he said. What else could he say? What was going on? He started walking back towards Fiona, not wanting to make her angry. "You are... Are you my mom?" He'd heard of alternates, but didn't know quite what that meant until that moment. "What do you think the answer is my dear?” She sat on the staircase, looking over at him.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. Come here. We should get you to bed… But first, I know little pups like you love to explore. Wanna go see something cool? This castle has a ton of secrets I would be happy to show you before bedtime little one.”

She radiated calmness and peace. A benevolent spirit at best. She was a safe place. Now that he was looking at her more, he was realizing that she didn't look as similar to his mother as he thought. There was a little dimple, smile lines, and a real air to the way she held herself that his own mother didn't have. This would have been enough of an amazing discovery for one night. But she came with an offer of more adventure? "Yeah!" He squeaked, that fluffy tail wagging faster as he started getting more uncomfortable around the lookalike. Would he mention it was already past his bedtime? Absolutely not. "I- I already found a lot of the rooms! Like the kitchen, and the- the big hall with all the paintings of fields and mountains, and the big meeting room with a lot of chairs, and... ...!" "Well you’ve sure found some cool places. Let’s see what else I can show you.” She got up and dusted herself off, climbing the stairs and waiting for him to follow.

There was a little room off to the side of a hall that had been locker, and she pretended to unlock it while she just fazed her hand through the door to unlock it on the other side.

The room was dark, but she was actually glowing enough to provide light. It was a room of a bunch of scrolls, but she motioned for the boy to peak through a hole in the wall.

The spot lead to the great hall they were just in.

“We used to watch balls of all sorts from this room. It was so much fun.” She started explaining the lavish parties, and some other castle ghosts started to appear around the great hall, dancing to a tune only they could hear. The guests seemed wary of anyone watching on them. Perhaps this was a private ball? The ghosts didn't quite look the part, not all of them anyways. And even with one eye pressed to the hole, anyone could see the little wolf's eyes go large with wonder. All these familiar figures...! People he felt like he barely remembered, faces he passed by in time gone by and never quite remembered. Who was the blue hamster, or the yellow fox, or the brown snake? Whoever they were, Fao wanted to meet them, maybe even join the ball. But how could he? There wasn't any music to dance to... Music...! "They need music!" He surmised, not quite realizing the ghosts could hear their own melodies. He desperately looked around the small room, but couldn't see anything. No cd player or instruments or anything, though he was interested in what looked like a wood box with a needle and a large funnel attached. "Hmm, well maybe a little won’t hurt. But let me show you what this does.”

She gently taught him how to turn it on, and a simple tune played. A slow dance, matching up to all the couples moving.

“There you go little one, some music to listen to.” The dance continued slowly, and the queen looked over at him

“What else would you like child? A dance? Maybe a snack? This castle is all for the exploring. And I know it better than most anyone.” A snack sounded good. Exploring sounded good. But most of all, this music sounded good. Through the scratches and bumps of the victrola record was a graceful waltz, slow and simple but powerful therein. And suddenly, sadness hit him like a truck. Ears pressed down, his hands fidgeted together. "My mom's never got the time for going on trips and stuff." He said. The queen looked similar, sure, but she wasn't his mom. She wasn't right there. What was he supposed to do? It wasn't her, but maybe getting close would feel good... right? "How do you dance?" The little wolf said, holding out one hand like he was going to hold the queen's hand. The queen, in all her motherly attitude, reached out to take the hand far smaller than her own. He reminded her of what could have been. The future she had lost. An adorable form of torment.

She felt cool. Not like ice, but like he was holding onto mist, and his fingers slid right through her hand a little as she got up.

"I’m sorry about that little one. She should spend more time with you. She’s very lucky to have an amazing son like you. Now, hang on tight and step back when I step forward.”

It was a bit of a hobble at first, but the simple dance was easily done. The pace of the music was slow, allowing him to get used to movements so foreign it was almost a new language.

“Maybe ask your mother to dance with you sometime?” He nodded at the comment. This didn't feel right. Yeah, he was dancing with A Fiona, but it wasn't his mom. While she could hold onto his hands, she couldn't hold them correctly. As much as he tried to force himself to enjoy the dance, he wasn't buying it. "My mom's been real busy." He said, trying to focus on the simple waltz. "But my friend got in a lot of trouble, and she's been really scared." Where would she be now? Would she be drinking o calm her nerves or asleep? Wherever it was, it wasn't in front of him now. "When's the next dance?" He asked, a spark of hope in his eyes. "Maybe- Maybe I could dance with her then!" "Maybe you should ask the king if he’ll hold one for you. This hall has gone far too long without a dance. But you don’t need the fancy ballroom to dance with your mother. You could always just ask her when you’re in the living room or something.”

She twirled him a little bit and kept dancing, smiling down at him. “You’re good at this. She would probably love to dance with you”

~~~

Scourge winced as Fiona cleaned out his scars with the gauze soaked in some sort of disinfectant.

“Ahh- mmm. That hurts like hell,” he groaned. "Shouldn't you be used to this?" Fiona prodded, her humor still stuck behind stoic remnants after her blow-up. But even as she pretended to be cold, her hands went softer as they tried to tuck and pull at certain bandages. She didn't use too much, right, this wasn't going to hurt? Her hands clapped. "There, good as... Eh, good enough, anyways." They weren't quite as tightly wound or professionally done, but they would serve their purpose and keep those scars covered and protected for a while. There were rumors. Terrible, awful rumors about things that might have happened to the king in years gone by. And Fiona was one of the people who knew their real meaning. She was used to dealing out punishments, but Scourge couldn't have done anything wrong as a child. It was just another layer of sympathy for the king she didn't quite want to admit she was harboring. The winces and grunts weren't making this any easier for her. "I feel like I haven't slept in months." The fox stood up, offering a hand to help the king to his feet. Sympathy was making her a sucker. "How much do you want to bet I'll pass out before you get to your room? This, whether she realized it or not, was the king being vulnerable to her. He was showing her the literal scars of his past and praying she wouldn’t flinch or say something. Half of him wanted her to. His groans of pain were subtle, he didn’t want to drive her away.

"I’m not carrying you,” was all he joked, taking her hand and getting up. He walked with her slowly up to their rooms, taking his time.

Faolán, after the ghost queen had helped him raid the kitchen for snacks, was taken by the hand. The queen guided the sleepy kit to his bed and tucked him in.

“It's bed time now little one. Your mother is on her way up. Sweet dreams.”

She kissed his forehead, the same soft mist that was felt when he held her hand. The queen kept watch over the little one, protecting him while she waited for the alternate. The sleepy wolf nodded to the queen, warm and comfortable, and full of stolen snacks he shouldn't have had. That's all he really wanted out of Fiona was a friend. But it didn't feel the same from this ghost queen. The door swung open, and Fiona walked in alone, rubbing her eyes. She was surprised to see her son already in his bed, but at least happy he was comfortable. "I'll be right back. Good night, Fao." Fiona told the child, utterly exhausted from the long, agonizing day. The kiss on the forehead made him feel comfortable, sure, but he was still just a bit confused as his mother went to get her sleeping clothes from her bag. Why wasn't she reacting to the ghost? As Fiona left, the queen looked over at the little boy and smiled softly.

"Sweet dreams little one. I’ll be leaving now.” She whispered, pulling away and fixing her dress.

“In case you were wondering, no, she can’t see me. It would upset her, so no telling about any of this okay?” She pet him gently and left, walking out of the doors and fading away until she was gone.

Scourge followed the music that hadn’t been turned off to the closet. He was surprised, no one had been in there in years. How had Fao gotten the door unlocked? And how did he learn to turn that machine on? The king turned it off and stepped into the great hall. Empty, but he relived the memories. Of course the music that would play at castle balls was always more complicated, but the simple waltz did echo the music that would always be played. Slow dances between all varieties of couples, Scourge himself included. Maybe it was Fiona's visit that night, or maybe it was just the thought of something nice after so much misery. Whatever it was, this situation made him feel comfortable, like he was about to have another dance years after the fact. Like Fiona was right there ready for one more dance with her king. The memories didn't feel as racked with regret as they could quite often. They felt comforting somehow. Somewhere between the sad acceptance of what had happened and the comfortable memories could onl leave him smiling and silently wishing to step back in time and experience a ball again. If he had listened close enough, he might have heard the faintest sounds of a waltz playing from seemingly nowhere in the castle. Everyone went to bed after that, Fiona getting into bed after tucking Faolán in a little tighter and pulling the sheets over herself. The little wolf was fast sleep, dreaming of more ghosty adventures.

The king, distracted by the unusual calmness of his thoughts, laid in bed on his back, looking up at the ceiling. His heart beat its own rhythm against his ribs and that managed to put him to sleep where he dreamed of ranging at a ball with a red fox, but which one was hard to pick.

Aria and Terra were falling asleep as well, curled so tightly together that in the dark it was hard to tell where one started and the other began. The hedgie felt safe wrapped in her mate's wings. Scourge and Manic were comfortable in their own way, holding each other in the back of their van and laying down on the seats, the bullets Manic took still fresh in their minds. Scourge ran his hands over those spaces where Manic was hit, truly hoping the damage was done. "You're being real cuddly tonight," Manic said. "It's nice." "Don't act like I'm soft," Scourge said, knowing full well he was at least a little bit soft. Manic just laughed lightly and moved a little closer, completely comfortable in Scourge's arms. "You're thinking about those flowers, ain't you?" He wasn't wrong. Of course, they didn't mean the bouquet they had ordered for Aria, they meant the flowers at her apartment. Many bouquets of apology flowers had been left outside of her apartment. Many had dried and withered, and some still held their own. All of them would have to be cleared out, but as annoying as that might have seemed, there was one thing Aria couldn't ignore. Each of the flowers, regardless of the service, came with a small note of some kind. "I don't know why I did that shit, I'm sorry - Scourge" "Do you want to punch me or some shit, I know I ruined everything - Scourge" "I want to make things right Ari - Scourge" Note after note, apology after apology for Scourge's actions. But ultimately, it would be up to Aria if he would be allowed back into her life. For now, thought, she was alive, and that's all they needed. Of course, having someone else to cuddle up to or think about certainly helped, and everyone was getting that extra bit of help. Hell was over, and a new day was coming.

[kimberlylam1997]

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[hanzi83]

Just In Case Anything Happens To Me

Whenever there are breaking developments, it is like my mind is so eager to concoct a whole thing about it because due to the lack of experiences and limited interaction in my life, anything that seems developing I seem to grab onto it and then decide to write, which is done on purpose, because they know if they can trigger me, I will have one of my manic meltdowns and then bring everything that has happened in the past, and then the probable scenarios that could take place start stirring in my head, then it leads to nonstop subliminal tweets send to everyone and anyone. I often delete some, even with people still screen grabbing or I just decide to leave it as it because this is a good example of my mental state being out there and seeing where my mind was at a certain time. So of course the breaking developments I don’t take lightly, even if it is just merely a shitty internet comment.

When it comes to me, certain comments are put out there to build a reputation for me, and most of it is always untrue and then sometimes they will flex their muscle. Not only have I told people and other media outlets that these fucking hacking that exists is a problem, the fact they have insider knowledge of when my case worker was showing up when I didn’t have an appointment booked, and then at one time having my entire blog posted in text form on that forum before I even posted it, and now leaving hints that I am not long for this world.

I could take that as someone who is just fucking around because people are assholes on the internet, but when I assume from certain facts that are widely known I can then apply my theories to these tactics, and because there are a huge portion who are online to troll other people and target them with some harassment, and since I am a guinea pig on a bigger level because I am not just some unknown person. I had a reputation on a huge platform, even though the days of mainstream relevancy were gone; it was still my biggest platform. I took the bad with the good because you assume you are just paying your dues, while at the same time I know that me triggering him and having inconsistent answers would serve as something useful later on, and I didn’t feel as badly because I had figured out that people in his fan base were given perks for harassment and to intrude into the whack pack’s lives, and it is done for content and fodder on their show.

They have exploited my mental illness for their gain and have perpetuated the image and material for the uncreative assholes to keep regurgitating with their comments and insults. It is like modern day initiation with the mental abuse now being done online and these people posting are fucking paid to do whatever they are doing, so excuse me if I am not feeling well when I see people putting out that I am not long for this world. They win regardless. If nothing happens, they have accomplished putting paranoia in my head and if it is a meaningful message, there is a warning over there. I can complain about it just to have people see that there is some documentation of what my thoughts were on this topic. It must have been an important message because the thread with that comment was deleted. Maybe they are hinting I might die, and they needed to delete it because it might come into fruition.

Then my mind spirals because at the same time, no one in my personal life cares and I can’t talk to anyone I know. I don’t even know who they are, and I am a bitter person due to the suffering mentally I had to go through while they have been able to experience a lot of shit and were allowed to ball out of control, while I have been barely functioning in this world and have been asking to leave. Nothing happens. I certainly wouldn’t do it on my own, but I am inviting these people to get it over with and kill me. My mind then gets frustrated with not being able to date, due to my fear of intimacy, rejection, my mental illness taking over, or the fact that if it does go well, the Stern Show trolls will be trying to harass them in some form or another. I then get upset and decide to say irrational shit to push women away. I couldn’t fathom anyone of the opposite sex caring about me, especially when people I know are better people who are more intelligent and more experienced in every capacity. What do I have to offer anyone? My only accomplishment is kind of getting famous and constantly being able to explain how this mental illness works with some mediocre humor. So all of this seeps into my head, and the fact that I get more concerned messages from strangers on the internet over people I know, it just makes it even more difficult.

I assume they have profited off of my connection to the show and are allowed access to make connections. I start to get jealous and then I assume everything evil that exists is the dominant thing and I just want to lash out at everyone and anyone. I then make the decision I don’t want to fight back and I am just waiting to die. They have already won. I assume the worst and hope for the best, but it is becoming lesser and lesser. I feel excluded and I feel I am only invited to limited places just so they don’t make me feel bad. All the interactions at socialized events are kind of planned out, and if I hit it off with someone, then the people in my life step in and have to control it. If I go downtown for an event, I am not allowed to roam there because I might see people who are important being there, because a lot of important people have moved to Canada, because America has fallen so badly people are heading for the hills. I feel like I don’t want to socialize with these people because it feels like they just invite me out for their own gain and not because they actually give a shit about me.

I think about how they assumed not seeing them for the most of this decade, and because I am nostalgic mixed with the fact that I was being phased out of the Stern Show, I would just want to trust all of them again, even though I am still a valuable commodity. Even if anything about my value is not being true, I have to do this because for far too long they have told me to become confident, but not really meaning it because when I do get confident and cocky it makes everyone fucking uncomfortable because then they realize how powerful that is and they yearn for the days of me thinking really low of myself and not having the confidence to know my value in this world. If I was not valuable, they would have gotten rid of me a long time ago. Me being alive was a great investment for people behind the scenes, just like a lot of the freak shows of every institution because their lives are in chaos and then they have to take the sole responsibility while people who seem normal are seen as these model citizens who don’t rock the boat, that the system by default is evil, and then they just let it continue on and pile on the people suffering from this mental anguish.

People monitor others every move, especially with the use of group chats and fantasy leagues. These people act like the saner people but behind their chats, they are fucking with others and saying evil shit about them and then try to trigger others until they have public meltdowns. Then these same groups pretend they are for mental illness and bringing awareness, but within their limits, because someone who has strong mental illness to the point they might do something physical or just lashing out in every way fashionable and there always being some sort of confrontation, they just sum that up to being an asshole, because they don’t care about mental illness like they say they do. They just set up these sob stories for people. If they cared they would disclose the cause of all of this shit and why people suffer. They don’t want that.

They have tried so many times for me to kill myself so it could be something else I fail at. I can barely retain anything in my brain anymore. The days seem like Groundhog’s day and it is just the same thing over and over. I just want to be done with all of this. If I could redo life I would do it so much better but I can’t, even though I feel the technology exists. I will always think there is more and not be satisfied with the answers I am given. You can argue that I am going against “facts” but what are facts today are not facts tomorrow because breaking developments take place and it is meant to be that way. It doesn’t make any sense. I have been waiting for them to kill me.

It frustrates me immensely how these people, especially ones in my life can keep getting away with this. I don’t know if they are being forced to do this or do they take joy in all of this. All I know is that if I have joy in my life, they will try to intrude and pretend this is the first time they experienced it and will hide that they have been all over the world, have been put into so many enlightened circles. Not only do they get to do all that cool stuff, they have my shit monitored, in my opinion, and can watch me in their secret groups and then crack each other up with shitty memes. It is disturbing that they can’t even leave me alone enough that even when enjoying themselves, people of importance pay attention to me, so people I know do it as well and pretend they are actually fans of the shit I put out there, while only doing it so they can say they are genuinely a fan of what I am doing. I just lose my mind that these people will let another summer go by so they can abuse me more.

I put this out to several people in the media and no one will ever dare call out Stern. You could have done it years and years ago, but you let him get away with it, just like all these moguls who have abused their power for so fucking long. Yet there is nothing on Stern that can expose what he has been doing to others. I believe he has ties to Trump and even more so other corporations. He can’t be exposed though. He can keep sending his people to spread rumors about me to discredit me even more because they know I will often go into tailspin and no one will believe me because it is just a fucking psychotic asshole yelling at the smoke clouds in his basement. No one will ever believe me and if that is the case because of the lack of evidence and proof I have, I can just make up theories since nothing I say is based in reality right? You want to put inside this box constantly and discredit me then I am allowed fighting back. It doesn’t matter because no matter what the outcome does not work out for me favorably and the people doing the evil will get away with it and take pleasure in what they have done to me.

It is funny that no media outlet will ever investigate. It just shows you are only allowed to “investigate” when you are given permission to do so, and not even the controlled conspiracy theorists types can even mention me, and it shows me that is what is why that has been controlled for a while and they can only cover certain things that are approved whether it is to plan the seed of truth coming out, or just to convolute the entire reality so people have no idea what to believe. I fucking hate it. People in my life are so sick they will put me out of commission for other change to happen so they can have the excuse of me not being there so it happened. That is why they have secret relationships, or just the mere prostitution of their friends to get some real power. They have put me out of commission that they made sure the only friends I had were them, while they have made all the friends they need, even though I was the proxy they needed to get it done.

People will never see the hidden rules and you can keep saying it is imaginary but it is finally showing its ugly head. You know the show Handmaids tale, it actually exists but not in the way you believe it does, even though that version will come to fruition, but most people are organized to marry someone, or be with someone, because there is an entire system that forces people to do stuff while we celebrate freedom, when that is just a fucking illusion. It disgusts me and it will never be okay with people from my past, who have taken advantage of me and used my mental illness for their gain. My own family will do that as well. Why do you guys want me to stay here? You know the closer it gets to my birthday I will have more meltdowns. I have been having them nonstop since 2010 and it will never go away. Why can’t you just do an Old Yeller situation with me and just take me to the back and shoot me in the head.

No one gives a fuck about my plight. I have started not to care. People have stolen my friends, and my connections. The people I used to look up to and the people’s company I used to enjoy are not the same people anymore and I will never grow mentally as much as I try.  Even writing this blog, they will try to get revenge even more. I was told I was needed here for others to get their foot in the door when I questioned my life and wanted legalized euthanasia. They can admit that but then omit giving me an invite to their birthdays and real engagements, weddings and overall gatherings. Friends don’t even want me seeing their kids or seeing their girl friends. I can understand why, I am a piece of shit, but it is so sad that this will continue. The more I put myself out there the more these people will go after me for expressing my feelings but it says more about them. They are so pampered behind the scenes that they not only want to enjoy their perks and connections; they need to be reassured that I am suffering.  Frankly while I have been out of commission I don’t know who they have had to fuck or maybe even rape, since that shit is an initiation into the system. I don’t want to be around that, I would rather die than have to be forced to do some fucked up shit to someone because I wanted to climb higher on the social ladder.

I sacrificed myself to speak the truth about shit, and I didn’t have to sell my fucking soul. The ones I knew who were once socially conscious have now sold out because it gets them the finer things. I don’t even want to see it or be a part of it. I would rather be dead because people I know don’t give a fuck about me and they just need me to stick around for them to get whatever power they need and then when they see me they will find their subliminal and subtle ways of trying to piss me off, whether it is admitting to some type of connection, or not disclosing who is with who, or the dirty looks I get for showing interest in some chick they may have had sex with. I tested that out; I knew it pissed them off. It seems like a decade ago, I was convinced because of someone’s death to unite with the past because life is too short, but even then a death was used to get me on their good side. It is disturbing, because even death can be prostituted for someone’s profit and agenda.

So this is what messages like that have evoked into me and seeing the fucking assholes that are constantly pushing me more and more. I stay off line and write in my journal but they even move the cursor. It is funny it happens when I express anger about some mediocre Stern Show comic to be allowed to go to Star Cast, and it is funny that they allow such a horrible person who uses Whack Packers for air time while and I suspect has recorded me having sex and aired it for an appearance behind my back. I bet they have it in their vault to blackmail me with, but since I am mentioning it, they won’t reveal that. This is why I am scared to pursue any woman out there, because you never know when you are recorded anywhere. I don’t know who they sent as agents to come and fuck with me. I can’t accept that any female would even want me in any way because I am such an ugly person inside and out. I am barely even funny. I will never start a stand up career because I assume the show will use their connections to not let me get a good position, and because I feel my own people will use their politics to keep me from even talking in any capacity where I can try out my humor, it feels like they have purposely stumped my growth, so they can insert people to take that position. I just want to disappear from this place forever.

So maybe that message was done on purpose to distract me from the shit happening locally. I just know loved ones I thought I used to know have become different people I will not recognize and have hidden everything from me, so maybe I should be dead, and maybe it will be done for the benefit since all my friends and associates are stolen and I will never have any pure trust into another human being. I wish it wasn’t this way but I know these people will keep fucking with my life and maybe if there were some reward for the abuse I have taken, I could be fine with some of the stress but it seems the rewards and the spoils go to people associated with me, because they think they are so fucking interesting because they make their group chat fucking laugh. I will not politic a fan base to bribe for positive reaction. This is why I won’t last in this game. I am already blacklisted from ever being acknowledged or mentioned.

[sirivsblvckiii-blog]

OUT OF CHARACTER:

– Name: Dani

– Pronouns: She/Her

– Age: 25

– Timezone/Country: EST in the USA

– Triggers: Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Ideation, Eating Disorders, Panic Attacks, Domestic Abuse, images of spiders

– Activity Level: Through the holidays it’ll probably be like a 5/10, tbh. I’m working a lot and I’ll have family coming into town at the end of the month for a couple weeks. But once it hits like the middle of January, I’ll probably be a solid 7 or 8/10

– Anything Else?: I LIVE for AU’s. Any and all AU’s. They give me life, and I’ve been wanting to join a really great AU Harry Potter RP. I love building worlds and characters, and I love throwing characters into new situations and seeing how they react. I really love getting into a character’s head and pushing them to their limits, into really dark places. The concept of the First War and the plethora of secrets and mistrust among friends, the never knowing who you can trust, how that changes people and relationships amidst the already paranoia-driven atmosphere of war; nothing gives me more muse than the First War.

DESIRED CHARACTER:

– Desired Character: Sirius Orion Black III

– Why This Character?: OKAY SO, this is going to be long-winded, and I apologize for that! Sirius Black has been one of my favorite literary characters since I was in 3rd grade and first read Prisoner of Azkaban. There was just always something about him, and I don’t even know how to put into words how much I love Sirius Black. I remember the moment I fell in love with him, though, was when I was reading PoA and this man who had just spent the last twelve years wrongly imprisoned for an horrific crime he didn’t commit, and who had just spent the last year on the run with his godson thinking him responsible for betraying James and Lily, offers for Harry to leave the Dursley’s and move in with him. Even after everything he had been through, he was still willing to immediately take in Harry and take his place as his rightful guardian. It breaks my heart that they were never able to be a proper family, but that’s discourse for another time! Sirius was really the first character I ever really roleplayed, and he’s been living and growing in my head for like seven years now, as silly as that sounds. His personality has developed a lot since the early days. I think it’s easy to get sucked into fanon interpretation early on, especially with characters that have a really strong fandom presence. But I’m really proud of the character he’s become, and I think he strays from a lot of typical fanon stereotypes. One of the biggest stereotypes - and one that really bothers - is that Sirius is some kind of Don Juan-Lothario-playboy-heartbreaker-type. “With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up….a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.” Sirius’ main concern has always been, and will always be, his friends. He cares far more for his Marauders and their pranks than he does for ladies and sleeping around. He’s a flirt, yes, but only because he’s charming and needs to grace everyone with that charm. It’s harmless flirting, and it’s not his fault if anyone takes it as anything other than that. I also love dabbling in the Black side of Sirius. While Sirius is a very good person, I think a lot of that is due to him being sorted in Gryffindor and befriending James Potter. Without his influence, I think Sirius would be a very different person. Not all of that is inherent, but Sirius definitely has a cruel, cunning streak in him (i.e. that time he almost killed Snape). A lot of it is in his nature, and some remains from his upbringing; our early years and development have a huge impact on the people we become. So, I think it’s interesting, especially in the state of the world as it currently is, to play with just what parts of Sirius’ personality become more dominant. Especially in regards to the war’s influence and the harsher actions that are sometimes required, I think it’s a really great opportunity to combine together his ruthless, cunning cruelty and the person the Marauders helped him become to create something totally new.

My Sirius muse is always active and talkative and ready for action, and I love being able to put him out there and develop him further and still learn new things about him even after all this time (reference, yuss!). I’ve always just felt a real connection with him. Maybe it’s because I see parts of myself in him, or maybe it’s because it’s just always been really natural and easy for me to get into his head and way of thinking. He’s always been more than just a character to me.

Ships/Anti-ships: I am complete trash for Sirius/Remus tbh, but Sirius/Chemistry is the most important thing ever. The only thing is that he isn’t always into serious relationships unless he’s good friends with the person first. In my headcanon, he’s never had a real, serious relationship (although every relationship is most certainly a Sirius one, badum-tss!), but he doesn’t feel wanting, necessarily. Relationships aren’t exactly a priority right now when there are bigger things to worry about. // Sirius/No Chemistry, Sirius/Snape

Headcanons: (tw: mania, depression, alcohol, slurs, mentions of dysphoria, mentions of abuse)

    &——–Little Lion Man He is named for the Dog Star, the most brilliant star in the sky, visible from anywhere on Earth - an actuality he embraces and carries with him from the moment he is able to understand its meaning. Ancient namings signify he is scorching, sparkling, bringing destruction and rebirth. He is important, and his name informs everyone of such. But he is the point of Canis Major, a hunting dog, ever looking towards his master, Orion. Later, he would think it ironic that he was intended to obediently follow the hunter across the sky. When he was young, though, he did follow his father, his master, with wide eyes and a thirst to learn, to emulate. He did, after all, carry his father’s name as one of his own. He thought it only right that he be his hunter. He learned quickly enough to leave Orion Black be. His name embraces the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - a reality he despises when he is older. He is taught to believe that to be a Black, to be a Pureblood is to be royalty. He believes it. He spends the majority of his childhood being trained to be the perfect Pureblood heir, to be the perfect Black. He attends many Pureblood-only balls and events, and is taught the proper way to mingle with other Purebloods. He learns manners and etiquette, and he is expected to be a proper child. There are never many other children at the balls, but he is reminded that it is improper to run about and make a fool of oneself like ordinary children; he is, after all, anything but ordinary. How could he be? His name attests to his brilliance.     &——–My Manic & I Sirius is living with undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder. It won’t ever be diagnosed or named in-game since they’re living in the 70s (it’s still fairly misunderstood now), but it definitely affects him. I feel like his upswings are pretty intense, and it usually results in him wanting to be out all the time and doing things, and he feels infallible and invincible, and he’s a lot more likely to be reckless (even more so than what is typical for him) and make snap decisions. He definitely has a tendency towards dangerous ideas that he thinks are absolutely brilliant (see: the Prank with Snape). On the other end of it, though, Sirius’ lows are very low, and he self-medicates with alcohol when he’s suffering from the worst of his depression (see: pretty much all of Order of the Phoenix). But I don’t think that Sirius recognizes the depression as such. It’s a lot easier for him to acknowledge when he’s feeling great and on top of the world as opposed to when he’s feeling like shit and struggles with getting out of bed in the morning. He’s a lot more likely to hide that side of himself, too, and play it off with a smirk and light-hearted joke at someone else’s expense. He became an expert at hiding his emotions at a young age, after all.

    &——–I Want to Break Free If someone were to ask Sirius his gender and sexuality, though, he would quirk a brow and scoff and let out a bark of laughter because, obviously, he has a cock and he’s not a queer, what sort of daft question is that? But his closest friends know that he enjoys the company of both men and women, although lately he’s sought out men more often than not. Sirius doesn’t remember the exact moment when he realized that he was attracted to men. Maybe it was sometime in his third year, when he had accompanied James to watch the Quidditch team practice. Maybe he had caught himself staring at one of the seventh years - a boy with shaggy brown hair and a strong jaw - as he flew around the Pitch. Maybe he had felt the distinct swoop in his stomach as he had watched, and maybe he had imagined what it would be like to kiss the older boy. But Sirius only really remembers being too afraid to say anything to James, Remus, and Peter, being afraid that it would change everything and they would think him a freak, a faggot they didn’t want to be friends with, anymore. James found out, though, and nothing changed between them, and soon after so did Remus and Peter. It became much easier after that to accept that part of himself. He doesn’t hide that amongst his friends or the Order; although the muggle world is less accepting of his sexuality, he doesn’t pay much attention to anyone who gives him shit. He flips them the bird and continues on his way. What he would never admit to, however, is the many times he has passed frilly shop windows and imagined being able to wear whatever clothes he wants that he sees, or wished he could be as comfortable in his own skin as David Bowie, or Freddie Mercury. Sirius doesn’t always feel exactly right in the body he has, and he doesn’t understand it even a little bit. After all, it’s hard enough to deal with the war; he doesn’t want to even begin to focus on the whole gender bit. The other thing he would never, ever admit to is the feelings he has harbored for Remus since they were realized in roughly fifth year. He remembers it was an ordinary moment; Remus had been working on an essay and nibbling on the end of his quill, and Sirius had been watching him, entirely too distracted, and it had just…hit him. But, of course, he wasn’t deserving of Remus. He would never be deserving of Remus. Sirius wrestled with the feelings for a good year or so, but he has long since accepted them without hope for it ever changing. In modern terminology, he would identify as a gender-fluid demiromantic pansexual, but that’s too fancy and way ahead of his time, so all he knows is that he’s queer - just another way in which he would have disappointed his family.     &——–The best thing that has ever happened:   “I know that you will make us proud, Sirius.”

No one ever expected Sirius to be a Gryffindor; he certainly hadn’t when he had stepped up to the stool to be sorted his first year at Hogwarts. His entire family had come from Slytherin. He even knew that, somewhere in his lineage, he was related to Salazar Slytherin himself. But as Sirius’ attention had drifted to the far table of green and silver, he had felt a tug in his stomach that he hadn’t really understood. ….“GRYFFINDOR!” He ignored the shouts and jests coming from the Slytherin table to rightfully take his place amongst the lions of Hogwarts. He was joined, thankfully, by James and the redhead he had met with the greasy boy (he was grateful - and always would be - that the greasy one ended up in Slytherin). It wasn’t before he was whisked away to his dorm and he got to know his fellow dormmates: one sickly-looking boy named Remus and a short, ordinary boy named Peter. Sirius thought he could do without Remus and Peter. Who needed them when he had James, his best friend? But Remus and Peter did prove themselves when they turned the greasy boy’s hair a bright shade of pink for a week. That, Sirius decided, was enough to earn his respect. The four of them quickly became inseparable, and Sirius decided that being a Lion was worth the consequent Howlers he received, even if meant returning from the Christmas hols with bruises hidden beneath scratchy sweaters.     &——–And the worst:  “Blood traitor! Filth! Scum!“ He tried not to cry out as his mother punished him one final time for being an insolent disgrace; he wouldn’t give her the pleasure. He was worse for the wear, however, when she finished with him and sent him off to think about his disobedience. Again. Sirius sat, on the edge of his bed, trembling; it was out of his control. He thought, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what he must do. He needed to leave. He hastily threw what belongings he could into his school trunk, gathering up anything he deemed important. He was able to perform a simple expansion and levitation charm - he decided he could deal with the Ministry later - and led his trunk out of his room. But he knew he needed to stop at his brother’s room before he left. Sirius loved his brother and he has always loved his brother, but Regulus was not like him. He was weak-minded and bent to the wishes of their parents. Sirius always wanted to keep Regulus safe from them, from Mother, but he went to school and was sorted into Gryffindor and it changed. He became the disgrace, and it had been up to Regulus to be the perfect son. Sirius never wanted that for him, and he didn’t want that for him now. So he tried to bring Regulus with him. He wanted to ask, wanted him to leave and escape the hell they had grown up in. But Regulus didn’t leave with him. He wasn’t like Sirius. He was an idiot, and he didn’t leave. So Sirius goes. But not before he watched as his mother blasted his name from the family tree. (Sirius will always regret not making Regulus leave with him.)

Please Provide At Least One:

✓ Humor ——- “Did you like question ten, Moony?”

He is barking laughter and poorly timed jokes, puns upon puns - seriously. A grin as wide as the day is long, carefree and easy. Light in the black of war; white sheep in the Black family. His good humor has covered him and carried him through all that he’s seen. It’s as much a shield for himself as it is those with whom he surrounds himself. ✓ Loyal ——- “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!”

He is fierce, heart full for those he holds dear. Not many are kept that close, but there is no hesitation when asked to give his life. Warmth and comfort, in the crook of his smile and the corners of his eyes. Brilliance and steadfast companionship: a dog is man’s best friend. ✓/✕  Strong | Judgemental ——- “Besides, the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us.”

He is a tree rooted to the earth, tall and proud. Unmoving and firm against the hailing storm. Beliefs, unwavering, unwilling to hear. Opposition is wrong, and he knows it as well as he knows the stories written in the night sky. He is strong-willed and stubborn; a brick wall would be more receptive. He thinks himself open-minded, but it is only another belief. ✕ Impulsive ——- “What is life without a little risk?”

He is snap decisions made in the heat of the moment. Turbulent and emotional, judgement shifts as easily as debris caught in the tide. Words, biting, leaving scars as easily as laughter erases them from his mind. Passing thoughts in an endless stream of chaos - why waste time paying mind to outcomes when you can just act? ✕ Rebellious ——- “There are things worth dying for!”

He is 2 am, leather, and a mess of discarded liquor bottles scattered about the floor. Blood-kissed knuckles and knuckle-kissed jaw. Smirks and sighs toppling from carved lips. Caught in a tempest, winds whipping his hair about his face, unable to see, blindly stumbling along, deafening roars threaten to consume him - one foot in front of the other. Raw magic crackling in the air, electricity against your skin; a beautiful sight when it implodes. Mock Blog & inspiration can be found here

Aesthetics: [x] [x] [x]

Playlist:      -Some Nights (Intro) - fun.     - Rebel, Rebel - David Bowie     - Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons     - Killer Queen - Queen     - Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time - Panic! At The Disco     - Bad Kids - Black Lips     - The World Is Black - Good Charlotte     - Sinister Kid - The Black Keys     - Green Light - Lorde     - Young And Menace - Fall Out Boy     - My Shot - The Roots, Busta Rhymes     - Death And All His Friends - Coldplay     - This Is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE :

Patronus: It’s commonplace that a Patronus will match a witch or wizard’s Animagus form, if they happen to be such, and Sirius is no exception. His Patronus takes the form of a dog, matching that of his Animagus counterpart: a bear-like German Shepherd. German Shepherds are known for being intelligent, loyal, and fiercely over-protective. Any close friend of his would attest to the fact that Sirius exemplifies those qualities. He is a bright wizard, and he would do anything for those he cares about. Wand: As badly as Sirius sometimes wishes his wand was made from Dogwood (think of the irony! the puns! the beauty of the universe!), he was chosen by a Cypress wood wand with a Dragon Heartstring core, 15 inches, rigid. “Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.” Sirius won’t think about the wandlore behind cypress wands and their masters dying a heroic death until the fleeting, infinite moment in which he begins to fall in the Department of Mysteries. He will think it ironic, then, that his death is hardly heroic at all; that, naturally, James and Lily had far more heroic deaths than him. (He will also think about finally, finally reuniting with them again, and he will think of how sorry he is for leaving Remus and Harry behind, but James, here I come.) “As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.” It is of interest to note that dragon wands tend to be easily swayed towards the Dark Arts. Sirius thinks it should be noted, and then he will tell it to fuck right off, thank you very much. He knows that, had things gone just a little differently, he wouldn’t have had any difficulty using Dark Magic; in fact, he’d have been rather adept at it. Sirius laughs at the notion - and would like to tell the Dark Lord that he can fuck right off, too. Sirius is a very quick learner. He is intelligent and, when he puts his mind to a task, he is able to stay determined and focused. Magic runs strong in his veins, so it’s only natural he be paired with a wand that is able to keep up with him and his raw power. That being said, however, Sirius’ magic is - too often - unpredictable. It has been since he was a child, and he still experiences outbursts of unintentional magic when his emotions get the better of him; the dragon wand nurtures his accidental magic, at times.