#even during the construction she went one full month at work with no outside contact

[an-absolute-nightmare]

CHANDRAYAAN 3 TRENDING HIIIIII DESI PEOPLE AND HELLO NON DESIS WHO MIGHT BE OUT OF THE LOOP DID YOU KNOW THAT INDIA HAS LANDED IN THE SOUTHERN REGION OF THE MOON

[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[clownattack]

Castor - character bio

I’ve been struggling with getting a bio out for Cas for waaaaay too long now, but i feel pretty ok with how it looks currently - i'm going to repost it on my art blog with some drawings of Cas and Hjalle in the future (hopefully). If you want to skip most of the nonsense and just get a feel for her personality, the section under the bio paragraphs is FULL OF POINTS.

links to drawn refs here and here

Longpost under the cut

✦ Early life in Hjalle:

Being born into the noble family Aran, Castor’s early life consisted mostly of being pampered by the attendants and strict education. Cas was a rowdy kid, and with time, lack of affection and validation from her family served to amplify the trait - she went from occasionally disobedient to full-on antagonistic towards her parents, and the nobility as a whole. She began to sneak out; spending her time outside of the Fort, spying on the guards and trying to bribe knights into taking her on as a page.

When Cas turned nine a sibling came into the picture, and she made it her duty to assure Aster’s upbringing would be better than hers. She poured everything she had into Aster, but soon developed a brash and overbearing streak, unyielding in her focus to teach the meek little sister to stand her ground. Aster became torn between Cas and the parents, who in all fairness, treated her much better than their firstborn. This would remain the case until Castor’s dragon-induced injuries.

In her late teens, Cas was seldom seen in the fort - to everyone's great relief. Her mood was always sour, she gave up on her studies and only seemed to care about Aster and joining the hunting parties. Her parents reached their limit when Castor announced she would not become one of the renowned judges of House Aran - this led to an explosive argument, which concluded with Castor storming out. For the following two years, she lived and worked with rangers tasked with protecting and providing for the town.

It was in those years that Cas acquired her battle prowess and scars, the most prominent being a gift from an especially large and angry dragon. A single swipe of its tail tore Castor’s chest and forearm open, forcing the hunting party to rush her to the fort in (what the hunters expected to be) a futile attempt to get her family to provide medical help for their dying kin. The reception was cold indeed, and if it weren’t for Aster’s hysterics and outrage over her family’s indifference, Cas would have not survived the grievous wounds. The upside to this event was a new high tale to impress people with, and strengthening the bond between two sisters. The downside - Castor was now under her parent’s thumb. They made her accept the position of inquisitor; to make up for the hassle she caused them. Taking up the mantle turned Castor’s world upside down - not only would she have to work in close proximity to her father, but her dreams of being knighted were shattered, as inquisitorial duties stand in stark opposition to virtues of knighthood. As Inquisitor she was tasked with investigating and interrogating for the court - the latter, as Aran tradition had it, was extraordinarily bloody.

 ✦ Vesuvia:

Almost as soon as she arrived, the city sparked something in Cas. This was unexpected to say the least; she was certain the years of gruesome work as inquisitor numbed her to simple joys of life. The sights and sounds of Vesuvia however, made her eager to explore and see how everything ticked - and the more she saw the more she wished to remain in the city. After attending the Masquerade and becoming acquainted with Asra, Cas was prepared to do anything to stay - even if it meant sucking up to the Buffoon count and begging for a job. Lucio proved to be anything but opposed - he’d heard of the “bloody good shows” (pun intended) Castor was infamous for, and was eager to take her off her parents hands. This led to working parallel to the count and his court, but also enabled Cas to dabble in magic under Asra’s tutelage.

This slight betterment of Cas’ situation would not last long however, as The Red Plague took complete hold of the city mere months after she took up her residence in Vesuvia. After perishing, and being brought back by Asra, she very slowly regains certain memories and traits - her sister, love of astronomy, sword skills. She sneaks out, snoops, and is a handful overall; but Asra is happy to see Castor’s “new” self free of bitterness and pain.

After this point, the “game events” take place. I like to imagine Castor braving an amalgam of Nadia and Portia routes, with a fistful (or multiple) of courtier drama. Castor is tasked with an investigation, slowly  but surely unravelling how deep the corruption runs in Vesuvia, and how much of it can be attributed to the courtiers. The conclusion of her story focuses on first facing off against the court, then the Justice Arcana.

  ✦ Physical appearance

Light olive skin, she picks up a slight tan in Vesuvia.

Dark gray eyes, striking marbling on the iris.

Long girl - 176 cm tall, loves being the “tall friend” (and manhandling people close to her). Being taller than her is taken as an indirect challenge.

She has a rectangular body type, could be described as a “runner’s body”.

Prominent scarring across right forearm and torso, missing right breast.

Tastefully disheveled. Her hair has a constantly windswept quality, and the gray streaks seem to be especially unruly.

Inherited the “Aran silver” (early graying), she tries to ignore it. “The more you hide it, the more it shows”.

Secretly really bothered by the many similarities to her father. Avoids looking at herself too much, and whenever she does it feels like he’s looking back at her, judging.

Only ever smoothes herself over before important court meetings and social events. She doesn't know how makeup works, so before any party she asks Asra to sort her out. Cas looking prim is both a treat and a source of friendly jabs.

✦ Character traits

Power walking by default. This can be somewhat intimidating, and she won’t stop if someone is in her way - just put them to the side and continue.

Puts up a really convincing pretence of formality and refinement.

In actuality she finds this facade tiresome, and just wants to talk fast about battle/hunting feats or astronomy. Maybe show off her pyromancy.

Loves socializing, it recharges her batteries.

Dilligent worker.

Tends to overwork herself and neglect her relationships.

Often scatter minded and wanting to do too many things at one time.

Doesn’t appreciate people instigating physical contact or getting up in her face. She needs to prepare herself for it, or be the initiator.

Stubborn as a mule. Never knows when to stop pressing people.

Extremely callous at times.

Annoyingly overbearing

Most of this springs from a place of fear - things had a habit of getting worse whenever her family imposed decisions onto her. In her mind, if she’s the one holding the reins, everything will be better. And if something does fail - she will be the only one to blame.

Starting arguments comes much too easily to her, but she’s just as quick to introspect, and seek out the person she argued with to apologize and approach the issue in an appropriate manner.

Forgives easily

Eternally scoffing at astrology. She knows shes being bigoted, but at this point its almost like an inside joke between her and Asra. “Astrology? It's baby stuff. PSEUDOSCIENCE!” (she cries as she worries over her afternoon tarot reading and preparing pretty horoscopes for the Shop...)

A huge hypocrite at times. “Do as I say, not as I do” could easily be her motto.

Both the upright and reversed Knight of Swords card sums her character up perfectly.

✦ Occupation & Residency

Vesuvia:

Beginning of her story follows the game canon almost to a T - Cas lives with Asra in the Shop, and works there. It bores her to death, and she plays tricks on every customer just to entertain herself.

After being officially hired by Nadia as the Palace Magician, Castor moves out of the shop and purchases a modest house in Goldgrave, much below the value of what Nadia offered her, and what she could afford. It’s convenient and that’s what matters to Cas. She continues supplying the shop diligently, and takes over whenever Asra runs off.

Nadia insisted on Castor having an office in the palace. It grew on her with time, and after The Devil is dealt with it becomes her little “hub”.

Hjalle:

Cas lived with her family in the castle site until 17 years old.

After denying her parents their plans for her future as a judge, she hunkered down in a hunting lodge outside of the town, and spent almost two years living that way - she still thinks of these two years as the most joyous time in her life.

The only thing she ever used her family’s wealth for was commissioning the construction of an extravagant observatory. Reminiscent of a gothic fortress, the stark exterior is contrasted with insides filled with artwork and art-nouveau ornaments. The central chamber is a vast library with a powerful telescope in its apse - it is a sight that could take the breath of the most haughty of nobles.

There’s a tiny living space below the main chamber, furnished sparingly, but with a lovely fireplace (in Hjalle, its a necessity). It’s where Cas stays after becoming the inquisitor/whenever she visits after the in-game events.

✦ Trivia

Cas is 23 years old when she first arrives to Vesuvia - 28 at the time of The Devil’s downfall.

She freed Merlin from a merchant’s cage in the Red Market, during one of her outings in the three year interlude after her death - Asra fumes after they find out she snuck out to the market - yet is amazed that Cas found a familiar.

Cas regained her first memories via touching objects linked to her past life - a letter from Aster, articles of clothing, a sword...

This self re-discovering takes a turn for the worse when Cas finally finds a large, ornate knife - the one she inherited after becoming inquisitor. The memories it resurfaces are a staggering blow to Castor, completely derailing the beliefs she had about her own person. She thought of herself as a paragon, and remembering the torture she inflicted upon others, the lives taken in the name of “justice” made her relapse into bitterness and disenchantment. She deals with those feelings as her investigation into the courtiers progresses.

Predominantly uses pyromancy, other types of magic are strictly used for her work at the palace, and rather sparingly.

Could be best described as a battlemage - enjoys being in melee range and assaulting her quarry with both sword and fire; the latter being used more as a way to distract or stagger the enemy than actually harm. There's no fun in just burning them up!

Doesn’t cook for herself, although she has a natural knack for it - will only cook for guests and short people.

Her dislike of Lucio clashes with gratitude for employing her when she first arrived to Vesuvia - he was the knife which cut Cas off from her parents, and it’s something she could never forget.

Demiromatic/sexual.

She was offered to be knighted by Nadia after defeating The Devil. Cas declined - It’s much more than a title to her, and accepting seemed like mockery (considering her past as inquisitor).

Short fuse, she learns to better control herself while working in the palace. But if someone really pushes her the nearby candles miiiight get a bit out of control. Or she’ll just throttle them.

Hates her full name - Castor is such a mouthful. Sounds stuck up too...

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #18 A Taste of Freedom

Fourteen year-old Penny was quickly becoming the problem child in the Prichard household. Her indiscretions started out with minor things, Allen found some non-priesthood approved sheet music in her collection. She was furious when he disposed of it while she was at school.

Allen wanted to mend things with his daughter, but she seemed to be going out if her way to avoid him. She did love her father but every time she saw him coming towards her she was afraid he’d say the words she dreaded hearing, she’d heard them so many times before “The Prophet has a place for you” so she’d duck into a side room or busy herself with one of her younger brothers.

Somehow Penny had gotten her hands on an old Ipod full of townie rock and roll music and she’d stay out into the night stargazing and listening to music. She kept it in a secret pocket she’d sewn into her dress and kept the charger under her bed. 

Jayne found the charger while cleaning and brought it to Allen who knew what an Ipod was from work. This was the final straw for him, he confronted Penny with the evidence and demanded she turn over the Ipod. She relented as it was useless without the charger and Allen destroyed in front of her. Her reaction was most unbecoming for a good priesthood girl.

This was the final straw for Allen, he sent Penny to stay with Aj at the bishop’s house for a week. She had recently given birth to her second child and could use an extra set of hands while she recovered. Penny was beside herself as Elden Brown, who was now an elder, was always openly looking for future wives. And it grossed her out. 

As expected, Elden was way too friendly to Penny during her visit. Seeing him smile at her made both Penny and Aj’s skin crawl. Penny did love the chance to catch up with Aj and to get to know Andrew and little Abigail, even if she was wary of their father. While she was there Evangeline celebrated her thirteenth birthday and aged up into a teen.

Her visit also brought Penny into contact with a most unlikely ally. Nina Brown was nearing her eighteenth birthday and felt stifled by life in the Prospect. She knew some boys from the construction crews who lived on the edge of town. Once or twice a month one of the boys would go into town and procure some beer for himself and his roommates.

Nina had been sneaking out to join them on and off since Dina got married and left her. She admitted to Penny that she had kissed one of them at a party while drunk. Penny’s interest was piqued “Do they play music at these parties?” Nina laughed “Ha, not like anything you’ve heard in your life.” Apparently the party boys liked a specific kind of music called EDM or techno. Nina explained it like “music but made with computers instead of instruments.”

By the time Penny went back home Nina had told her the date and location of the next techno party. She pretended to be contrite to her father and apologized for her rebellion. She did her best to keep her head down until the night of the party.

The night of the party Penny waited until the whole household was asleep before sneaking out through her bedroom window. She walked to the corner where Nina and her friends had arranged to pick her up. A work van pulled up not long after. Crammed in the van was Nina and five or six unfamiliar boys. Nina was dressed in townie clothing, revealing townie clothing. “I brought you some clothes, they’re in the bag!” Nina whispered motioning to a backpack at her feet. She handed her a beer as well. Penny took a sip and gagged, it tasted like rotten bread. Nina burst out laughing.

The van stopped in front of a home outside of the Prospect. Lights flashed outside the window, a loud mechanical noise could be heard from a block away. Everyone got out of the van, Nina marched Penny into the bathroom so she could change out of her prairie dress. Having never wore townie clothes before, Penny chose the largest dress possible. Then the girls ventured out into the party.

Nina got Penny a sweeter drink, a rum and coke, and she liked that much better than the beer. Penny stuck close to Nina, only venturing out to the dancefloor with her. Townies were dancing in a way Penny had never seen before, they almost looked possessed by the pulsating music. Penny had no idea how to dance like that. Nina just said to bob around to the music and “everyone’s to messed up to care if you can dance.” 

All too soon it was time to go home. They piled into the van, ears ringing, quite tipsy. Penny threw her prairie dress back on over her party dress and made her back inside her house. she showered quietly in one of the downstairs showers and hid her townie clothes inside her pillow. It was the best night of her life and her father was none the wiser. Penny became a regular in the party scene over the next year.

[fluffypeachwriting]

Welcome to the first installment of my Hypmic Burlesque AU (definitely inspired by the 2010 film)! This is only an introductory chapter but it won’t be the last so I hope people stick around for more installments! It won’t be like a full fic with a coherent plot, just little snippets of the AU, so updates won’t be as regular or in chronological order.

Edit: I’ve uploaded it to Ao3 (in case anyone prefers reading there) with the title Show Me How You Burlesque! I’ll include links in future updates too!

The song sequence Ramuda performs, Guy What Takes His Time, is this one, and Tough Lover, mentioned near the end is here!

Rating: Mature/No Warnings Apply

Words: 1740

A guy what takes his time, I'll go for any time I'm a fast movin' gal who likes them slow Got no use for fancy drivin', want to see a guy arrivin' in low. I'd be satisfied, electrified to know a guy what takes his time

Backup dancers let Ramuda take the spotlight as it turned on, and he revelled in it, puffing out his chest with the swell of music. This was by far not his first performance of this particular song but the first chords of the song resonated in him like he had never heard them before. The pink feather fans parted to reveal him perched on the piano, like a clam opening to reveal the treasure inside. It was planned to be this way, with the pearl costume and its subdued colours bringing out the natural beauty that was contained within.

Natural, though nothing close to pure.

His nickname would suggest that. His fans called him the ‘lamb’ of the burlesque stage. It wasn’t just a small play on his name, as he was frequently seen adorned with his favourite fluffy white coat when he wasn’t dancing, usually holding onto the arm of a rich hotshot that took his fancy at a party that night. But he was anything but a weak animal, as he was just as deceptive as he was cute. His dainty little body was seen at every big party and club in town, buttering up everyone who caught his eye, never seen hanging around alone. He lived fast and hard.

He wasn’t past stepping on the spines of his rivals in stiletto heels to reach for the crown.

Ooh. Maybe I should make a king themed costume. Yeah, something super lavish and shiny.

A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Not only that; the manager had threatened to ‘cook and serve him with mint garnish’ when he got on her nerves, along with other more colourful insults. He knew she loved the club really, so pushing her buttons from time to time wouldn’t do too much harm.

In his heart Ramuda loved the club as well, and everyone else too. The other dancers and their strange banter was kind of endearing to him, the band was reliable as always, the bar and tech staff taking care of the behind the scenes stuff, and… he did love the manager too. In an odd way. There was nothing remotely intimate about their relationship (save for a very drunken night soon after Ramuda’s employment but bringing that up would have him incinerated on the spot) as they spat all kinds of insults at each other daily while knowing that if worst came to the worst, they would have each other’s backs.

I really do mean, the worst.

And they would be together to see it, like a weird package deal. They went back too far for him to get fired on the spot, if ever. Though that wasn’t to say that he never caused any trouble in the club. Always teetering on the line, laughing whatever predicament he caused off while applying his make-up while the other dancers dealt with the fallout. They had no idea why the manager put up with him for so long at first, until they saw him dance. She had scooped up his talent and put him to work early on as the club’s first full-time dancer. And he was showing no signs of stopping soon.

You could speculate that he was built for doing this, even from one glance at him. It was almost uncanny. His hips swerved through the air as smooth as whipped cream and his shoulders shook with laser precision, every movement constructed to entice the viewer and pry more money out them night after night after night.

Lustful intensity oozed from his body language while he mimed as if he was singing; he’d asked the manager if he could sing during the performance, pouting when he was met with a firm ‘not yet’. Ramuda was known behind the scenes for being notoriously bratty when he wanted to get his way, and with the amount of money he brought into the establishment it wouldn’t be a surprise if the costume was actually composed of real pearls.

As if anyone could ever refuse his demands in the first place.

His look was finished off with dramatic pin-up style make-up and pearl jewellery to match the costume. He was undoubtedly radiant. Every inch of flawless skin was shimmering with the powder puff he’d meticulously applied just a few minutes ago before rushing onto stage and claiming it as his.

This was his speciality, commanding every head in the room with a sultry but oh so deliciously unattainable aura. It was the fact that he was always out of reach that made him such a tempting treat for the eyes.

As he gracefully lounged upon the piano the audience was being scoured by his all-seeing gaze, and you wouldn’t be able to tell if he was just acting or if he was searching for someone. It was a total cinch for him, maintaining a watchful eye over everyone while executing a perfect performance. Either way, he was the predator and they were the prey, being devoured by the small man. When he flashed his teeth in-between lines, there was a glint of malice that sparkled with a twisted form of integrity.

He sold undeniable perfection without letting it slip out of his possession.

Right now his mouth was curved into a cheeky smile as he mimed singing. He couldn’t be more content with the crowd wrapped tight around his finger, like how one hand was wrapped around the neck of the champagne bottle and tap tap tapping in time to the song. You could say that they were in a strong chokehold, but he wouldn’t be that mean.

Usually.

He tipped his head back just as he tipped the bottle towards the glass, spilling the alcohol everywhere except the glass (intentionally) and setting it down with a satisfied smile. The words he mimed were asking for a slow lover, not a tidy one.

Ramuda himself had yet to find a lover that suited his needs and wants. For now he was happy with a life of self-indulgence and luxury, holding onto the arms off all kinds of people. The kinds that had lots of money to throw around.

That led his mind to wander and remember another man who wished to dance at the establishment, a man who didn’t look a day over 20, who’d seen Ramuda perform a few times and stopped him to ask for his advice. The young man was in for a rude awakening when Ramuda told him the harsh, bitchy truth of the job. That was a few weeks ago now, but he could remember him and the young man standing in the cold rain just outside the building like it was yesterday. The man didn’t look completely deterred after that, despite the rain soaking through to his skin.

Perhaps he would be coming back soon, Ramuda hoped. He would be a fun one to mess with.

He hopped off the piano giggling to himself, then ran one hand up his neck and through his hair, relishing in the small moment before the next section of the song.

His strikingly icy blue eyes blew wide open in fake shock as the upper half of his costume was tugged off by a string, flying off-stage. He snatched one of the giant feather fans from a backup dancer and held it close to his chest (as if he wouldn’t be happy to bare it all, but burlesque was all about the foreplay and nothing more, and Ramuda was a tease at heart) and continued to strut his stuff.

His hair, pin-curled just for today, bounced around his face as he tottered around the band members, the pearls on his lower half shimmying over his soft skin with each perky little step. The stage lights were close to being unbearably warm but he walked with a cool aura that would send a hot chill down your spine if you approached the stage. It was a wonder how anyone kept up with him.

The two other dancers accompanying him tonight were considerably bigger in stature and build than him yet they were completely outshone. This specific fact was something Ramuda thought was hilarious. A duet had recently been choreographed to Tough Lover for them after being in such high demand from the audience, some even mentioning it directly to the manager, but they had yet to agree to it. Ramuda knew they would crack soon enough, it was only matter of neither man wanting to say yes first at the risk of their bad-boy exteriors wearing off. The two men were so alike in dignity and enthusiasm yet they fought in a typical cat-and-dog fashion at every opportunity. This, Ramuda thought, could be the reason they clashed so often. Whenever Ramuda (as cute as he thought they were) silenced them because they got too annoying, they were practically at his knees without question or thought.

He didn’t know exactly why. Maybe it was because Ramuda had had others fired before for less.

This certainly wasn’t an admired quality. On the few occasions during the songs that he made eye contact with either of them Ramuda could sense their envy of being the man to rake in the most money and attention.

What Ramuda couldn’t sense, surprisingly, was the man sitting in the shadows near the back of the hall. A past dancer of the club who was let go a few months back.

He was sitting there out of envy.

Staring Ramuda down with a deep-seated contempt that he hadn’t felt quite to this degree before.

Hate watching, you might call it.

Ramuda settled into the finishing pose of the song, his costume pulled completely off now with some miscellaneous musical equipment covering the goods. A quick wink earned him a long whistle. Each hoot and holler from the crowd was fuel to the fire.

Hate watching?

No… he was studying.

The lamb disappeared from view as the lights dimmed and the other man left the building just as fast. He didn’t want to think of it as cowering, but he did nonetheless.

He was a real sheep in wolf’s clothing.

Things were about to get interesting around here.

[vmheadquarters]

Welcome to…

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Two of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @nearfantastica​.

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.3 from @saoirsekonstantin​ -tag, you’re it!———————————————————————————————————– [CH1]

CHAPTER TWO by @nearfantastica​ a/k/a casket4mytears

“Of course he’s dead.  Murder mystery weekend?” Dick rolled his eyes.  “Look, we all know Ronnie’s gonna work her PI magic and solve this with ten minutes of searching Google.  Nerd.  Can we go back inside and drink now?”

“No Dick,” Logan gently chastised, as if explaining to his child yet again that he couldn’t grow up and be a Jedi.  “This isn’t part of the game.  He’s actually dead.”

Gia spun around, poking Luke in the chest.  “I did not sign up for actual dead bodies, Luke.  You told me this would be fun.”

A lump formed in Veronica’s throat as she stared at the lifeless form of Leo D’Amato.  Years ago, before Lilly’s murder, she’d considered following in father’s footsteps and pursuing a career in law enforcement.  She’d toyed with the idea anew last summer at her FBI internship, the possibilities a Rubik’s Cube spun deftly in her palms.  Moments like these reminded her why she’d veered towards practicing law instead.  

Bodies, especially those of people she knew, unsettled her.  The inertia of them, the inconsistency… she couldn’t reconcile it.  People breathe.  People move.  At Lilly’s funeral, she remembered whispering to her father that it wasn’t Lilly—that Lilly was never still.  That they should shut the casket, because Lilly would hate to be remembered as motionless.

“Veronica?”

She was coaxed back to the present by the sound of Logan’s voice, concerned and closer than she expected it.  He was crouched beside her, shining his light over the body.  Casting her own Maglite across the ice, she noticed something fluttering beneath the camping lantern.  Hmm…

“You okay?  I know that you and Leo… were friendly.”

Veronica huffed softly.  “We dated.  Briefly, until I cheated on him with you.  I’m fine, Logan.”  Glancing over at him, she smiled gratefully.  “Thank you for asking.”

Logan’s gloved hand reached for hers, offering a reassuring squeeze.  For a moment, she lost herself in the depths of his eyes, all fears of frostbite forgotten as her heart panged with regret.  Seven months, nine days and six hours, and no bookie in Vegas would touch the odds of her moving past Logan Echolls now. 

Focus, Veronica!

Gently extricating her hand from Logan’s, Veronica rose slowly to her feet, circling around the pool of blood towards the lantern.  She kept her eyes downcast, scanning for footprints, drag marks, anything of use, but saw nothing.  The blustery winds of the snowstorm were swiftly disposing of evidence for the killer.  Retrieving her phone from her jeans pocket, she began snapping photos of the fluttering object in situ—well aware the police would be furious she was touching it at all.

“Phone.  Good idea!” Casey enthused.  “We need the cops here now.”

“Casey, do you really think there’s reception on Death Island on a good day, let alone during a storm like this?” Carrie sneered.  “Do you see a cell phone tower anywhere?”

Casey bristled, adjusting the collar of his parka. “Technological advancements being what they are—“

“I have no bars and I’m just taking photos,” Veronica snapped, reaching down to retrieve the mystery object.

Now this might be useful…

“Hey, hey!  She’s hogging all of the clues!” Cole protested, tapping Kimmy on the arm.

Brushing a tear from her cheek, Kimmy shoved him aside.  “You idiot!  This isn’t a game anymore!  How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“ENOUGH,” Logan warned, silencing the chatter.  “Veronica, what is that?”

“It’s a folded sheet of paper,” she replied, tucking it in her pocket.  “It’s too wet out here.  If it has writing on it, I don’t want the snow to damage it.  We should read it inside the house.”

“No, what we should do is get the hell out of here, fast!”  Wallace shouted.  “I’ve seen my share of horror movies.  As the only person of color in this group, that means I’m the likeliest to end up with a knife, a bullet or a fish hook in my gut.”

Veronica frowned, stepping forward to console him.  “Wallace, it’s going to be okay—“

Wallace’s arms flew up in the air.  “For you, maybe!  You’re the Final Girl!  White girl, PI, your ex dead on the ice.  Come on now, Supafly.  Name a horror movie where a Black man lives to the end.  No, we need off this rock.  And until we’re off it, I go where you go.  You feel me?”

“Where else would you go?  I’m your plus one,” she soothed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.  Lowering her voice, she whispered, “I need to check one thing and then we’re headed back to the house to figure a way out of here, okay?”

Wallace nodded anxiously, glancing sideways at Logan.  “Alright.  But we need to bounce.”

“No arguments here.”

Reluctantly, she circled Leo’s body and snapped photos from a variety of angles.  Fighting the urge to vomit, she reached inside his jacket pocket, retrieving his wallet and a set of car keys, but finding no other papers or items of note.  Satisfied she had everything useful, she headed back to the warmth of the mansion, eager to escape the sleet pelting her bare cheeks.  Logan and Wallace—ever helpful in a crisis--ushered the party guests along behind her.

As she trudged through the snow, Veronica considered her priorities:  contact authorities; secure evidence; keep everyone together.  Wallace was right:  they needed to get off the island or engage law enforcement as quickly as possible.  In the meantime, if a killer was on this island with them, safety would be found in numbers.  Cell service was a bust, but surely the sprawling home had a landline or other means of communication with the outside world.  No one wealthy enough to construct a home this beautiful would leave themselves without a means of calling in the cavalry.

“Why was that guy here?” Kimmy sniffled as Veronica opened the front door.  “Who even invited him?  He didn’t go to Neptune High, did he?”

“He went to a dance, once,” Carrie replied.  “I’m surprised you don’t remember it, Kimmy.  Meg invited him for Veronica.  Shouldn’t you have that memorized as part of your body snatching?”

“And I thought it was icy outside,” Wallace muttered quietly. 

“Just remember: you made me come to this party, Papa Bear.”

Kimmy tugged on Veronica’s sleeve, spinning her around.  “Wait, you were dating the dead guy?  Doesn’t that make you a suspect?”

“Dated, as in past tense.  It’s been years, and we only went out a few times,” Veronica replied dismissively, yanking her arm away.  “Leo and I were friends.  Besides, the state of the body… he was dead before Wallace and I arrived.”

“She’s dating that radio dweeb now… Pizzle,” Dick interjected, pouring out a martini.

Veronica stared at her boots, avoiding Logan’s gaze as Wallace mercifully jumped into the conversation.  “Also past tense.  They split up in the summer.  We haven’t seen him since we flew out to New York to visit him at Presbyterian, right V?”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Just keep staring at the tiles…

“Poor guy got hit by a bus, the last week of his summer internship.  He’s still in the hospital there, full body traction, head trauma,” Wallace continued.  “Guy wasn’t even conscious when we were there.”

“Damn.  I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan offered quietly.

“Says the guy who rearranged his ribs and face?” Wallace snapped.

Veronica laid a warning hand on his arm.  “Wallace… You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”  With a heavy sigh, Wallace stormed across the room to console a shuddering Alexis Link.

Veronica shot an apologetic look at Logan, who shrugged it off.  It’s fine, he mouthed.  It wasn’t—that much was clear from the crestfallen look that flickered across his features—but she would apologize in depth later.  Her relationship with Piz, and its demise, had nothing to do with Logan’s fists of fury.  Their ending was the product of a man who couldn’t see the hypocrisy in pursuing his internship and dreams, while holding her solely responsible for the long distance between them as she rightfully pursued hers.  She’d ended it while still in Quantico, moving on to Stanford without looking back.

Well, not at him, anyway, she amended silently. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Carrie Bishop mused aloud.  “I heard that Troy Vandegraff died in a car accident over the holidays.  Didn’t you date him in junior year?”

“I did, for a little while.  That’s a shame…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Veronica noticed Dick tugging Logan behind the bar, struggling to wrap his hand around his bicep.  How are Logan’s arms even bigger than I remember them?  Logan’s expression was one of bemusement, his feet firmly planted in place.

“Black Widow,” Dick muttered ominously.  “I’m not letting you end up on Dateline, dude.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself,” Logan insisted, moving to Veronica’s side.

Dick formed his index fingers into a cross, holding them up in Veronica’s direction.  “Fine.  Your funeral, and I’m so not sending flowers.”

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself (and to resist the urge to chuck the ornamental bowl beside her at Dick’s stupid head), Veronica smacked her palm on the table.  “As much fun as rehashing my love life has been, there’s a dead man on the pond and a killer loose on the island.  Priorities, people?”

Sweeping her Maglite over the group of partygoers, Veronica studied them all in turn:  Wallace, her best friend, consoling a crying Alexis to her right; Carrie and Susan, imbibing with tense expressions on the sofa; Casey and Kimmy, upset, but holding it together; a shocked Luke clinging to a distraught Gia; and Cole and Dick, both of whom seemed too intoxicated to fully appreciate what was happening.  And then there was Logan to her left, whose worried gaze was laser-focused on her.

“Okay, since cell phones are a bust, has anyone seen a landline?”

A lot of shaking heads, save one:  Susan Knight hesitated, her brow furrowing.  “Hmm… I might have seen one in the kitchen earlier?”

Carrie Bishop drained the frothy white concoction in her hand.  “I’ll go look with you.”

“Cole, you go too,” Veronica ordered.

Carrie huffed angrily and advanced towards Veronica.  “Of all the people in this group, the last I would expect sexist bullshit from—“

“Actually, I just want him out of my sight for five minutes and know you can take care of him.  Thanks for being a pal, Carrie.”

Cole’s protests were silenced by Carrie’s arm looping around his, dragging him down the long corridor towards what Veronica assumed was the kitchen.  Not that she and Wallace had gotten that far.  Damn it, they hadn’t even managed a drink before this had all gone to hell. 

Speaking of, Dick was still at the bar, making what were likely terrible, overly strong martinis in the dark. 

“Hey, bring back snacks!” Wallace called after them.  “Chips, Cheetos, a man’s not picky.”

Alexis pulled away from his embrace, tears streaming down her face.  “Are you serious right now?”

“It was a long trip and I’m hungry!” Wallace protested. 

Extracting Leo’s wallet from her pocket, Veronica flipped through the contents, finding little of interest.  Driver’s licence, debit card, credit cards, photos of his sister and his mother.  One item stood out:  a current private investigator’s licence for the state of California.  Huh.  If she did the math… he would have renewed it recently.  Last she’d heard, he was still working as a Deputy for Balboa County, although her information could be out of date.

Now, for the key find:  the mystery paper pinned beneath the camping lantern on the ice.  Veronica carefully unfolded it on the coffee table and shone her Maglite on it.  What she found left her reeling.

It was page three of a case file from Van Lowe Investigations—and according to the header, the lead investigator was none other than Leo D’Amato himself.  The text was smeared in several places from the snow, and being the third page, the notes were difficult to follow in places, but what Veronica could pick up…

“What’s that?” Casey asked.

“Motive for murder,” Veronica replied coolly, snapping photos of the page before carefully re-folding it. 

“So’s being your ex,” Casey remarked dryly, earning a glare from the petite blonde.  “What?  We’re all thinking it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Troy and Piz had accidents.  Piz?  That was five months ago.  Hardly relevant to—“

The thud of hurried footsteps approaching drew the attention of the group.  Heads turned towards Susan, breathless and distraught, with Carrie and Cole in close pursuit.

“The phones are dead,” she panted.  “But not just dead.  They’re cut.”

Logan cast his flashlight in their direction.  “Cut?”

“The wire was cut,” Cole blurted out, visibly shaking.  “So we ran upstairs, because Carrie remembered a phone in her bedroom.  But that one was cut too.  We checked all the rooms upstairs, but every single phone was cut.  Slashed like buddy’s throat out there.”

“What did I tell you?” Wallace snapped.  “Veronica, we need to go.  A brother’s about to get filleted.”

“Oh hey, found you a Milky Way!” Cole added absently, tossing a chocolate bar in Wallace’s direction.

With an exasperated sigh, Wallace unwrapped the chocolate and waved it in Veronica’s direction.  “Look at this.  My last meal’s going to be the weakest chocolate bar there is.  Some Mars Magic, please?”

Veronica’s mouth fell open to speak, but she found herself cut off by Dick Casablancas, now wearing a tiny bow tie and carrying a tray full of martinis, as he circulated the room.

“No, no way.  If we’re dying, we’re having one last drink first!” Dick insisted.  “I made us chocolate martinis and we’re gonna down these bitches and say a big fuck you to murder, and then Veronica can order Logan around like her lapdog.”

“Dick,” Logan warned.

“What?  Like we all don’t know she’s still got your scrotum in her super purse next to Mr. Zappy or whatever she calls that thing?”  Dick handed martinis to an eager Gia and Luke with a flourish.  “As Class Party Boy Peter Bogart, my alcoholism means I call ‘em like I see them.  Wallace is the token, so he’s toast.  I’m the frat boy, so I’m done-zo.  Might as well die drunk and happy.”

“No one is going to die!” Veronica shouted.  “Not if we stick together and work fast.”

“I don’t recall voting you in charge, Veronica Mars,” Gia sneered, sipping her martini. “I say we drink first.”

As Dick continued to pass around martinis, Veronica nudged Logan in the arm.  “This is why I am not going to Neptune High’s reunion.”

“I’ll handle this.”  Moving into the centre of the room, Logan sighed. “Fine, let’s take a vote:  all in favor of drinking a martini before trying to call the police or leave the island?”

Gia, Luke, Dick, Cole, and Kimmy raised their hands.

“All in favor of leaving right now before anyone else ends up dead?”

Veronica, Logan, Wallace, Carrie, Susan, Alexis and Casey raised their hands.

“Majority says survival over booze.  Sorry Gia, Veronica’s in charge now,” he added wryly.

“Thank you.”  Tugging on her gloves, Veronica rolled her shoulders back.  “We have no landlines and no cell phone service.  Our best bet to call for help is also our way off the island:  the Irish Wake.  Even if the storm’s too bad to leave yet, we can try using the radio to call the coast guard for assistance.  I say we head for the caretaker’s cottage and get the captain’s help.”

“Okay, have fun doing that.  We’ll stay here and drink martinis,” Kimmy replied, sipping her drink.  “Ooh!  Is this Godiva liqueur, Dick?”

Dick clinked glasses with her, grinning.  “Hell yeah!”

“No, we are all going,” Veronica insisted.  “We need to stick together to stay safe.”

Gia’s leg raised in the air, dangling a knee-high leather boot with a blood-red sole and a three-inch heel.  “Do these Louboutins look like they were made for trudging around the grounds of this place?  I barely made it to the pond alive.”

“So change them,” Veronica snapped.

“I only brought my cute boots.”  As Luke began to shake his head, Gia pouted.  “You told me we were going to a party inside a beautiful house!  Why would I need hiking boots, Luke?  This is your fault.”

“Maybe the killer will take me next,” Luke mumbled.

“Or Gia,” Carrie muttered.

“No, it’s Logan next,” Dick insisted.  “Because of the Black Widow.”

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Veronica rolled her eyes.  “Dick, shut up.  Gia, walk carefully.  Luke will help you.  Bring your martinis for all I care.”

As much as she wanted to abandon the group, grab Wallace and Logan and head off into the blinding snow as a trio, she’d learned years ago to keep everyone in her sight and trust nobody.  There would be no metaphorical backseat surprises tonight.  If she had to tie a rope around the waist of every 09’er here and drag them behind her through the drifts, she would. 

She and Wallace were innocent.  Everyone else was a suspect.

Even Logan?

Listening to the din of complaining rich kids, she stole a glance at her ex.  Even Logan.  Technically.  But I know he didn’t do this.

It was Logan who identified the location of the caretaker’s cottage as they stood on the front porch, a collective of shivering bodies whipped by icy shards from the west.  Visibility was near zero now, the wind cutting through the down filling of Veronica’s ski jacket, but Logan was able to just make out a small structure down a path that veered to the southwest of the property, lying between the dock and the mansion.

“That will be it,” he assured her.

“Lowly peasant I am, I’ll have to trust your expertise.”

“See the chimney, Veronica?  It’s a domicile, not a storage unit or barn.  Simple observation, not elitism.”

Veronica bit her tongue, pressing forward with Wallace at her side.  She was off her game, and their lives literally depended on her. Contact authorities, stick together, preserve the evidence.  Repeat mantra.  Her love life, or lack thereof, was a distraction.  Dick’s outburst—and Logan’s curiously sad expression ever since?  Also a distraction. 

“So, what was on the page?” Logan whispered.

His breath was hot on her ear and Veronica involuntarily shivered.  Body memory carried her to happier moments:  late-night conversations, their naked bodies entwined in tangled sheets.  The security of his muscular arms wrapped around her frame; her head pressed to his chest, counting the beats of his heart.  She bit the inside of her mouth, shocking herself back to the bitter cold of the present.

“Leo works—worked for Vinnie,” she began quietly.

Wallace edged closer and the trio picked up their pace, pulling away from the group.  “Worked for him?  He was a PI?”

“Apparently.”

“But he was friends with your dad.  Why wouldn’t he work for him?”

Veronica shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine, Wallace.  Dad probably turned him down, told him he could do better.  He’s always been a lone wolf.  Vinnie, on the other hand, would welcome the opportunity to recruit one of his own deputies for his OG business.”

“So the page was what, a case file?” Logan queried.

“A partial,” Veronica confirmed.  “The page was water-damaged, and I couldn’t find a name anywhere on it, but from what I could read, Leo had stumbled onto a cover-up of a crime, maybe a wrongful death?  It’s hard to tell with so much obscured.  If Leo had ammunition like that on someone here…”

Logan glanced back, taking stock of their present company. “Someone like Luke, who plans to run for Congress.  Or the Gants…”

“It’s a secret someone would kill for,” Veronica affirmed.

“But how did he get here?” Wallace asked.  “We had to give our names and a code word.  Did he come over with you?”

Logan shook his head.  “I came over with Dick, early this afternoon.  Same deal:  name and code word.  For Leo to cross, he would have needed an invite.”

“Maybe the captain knows something,” Veronica decided, veering down a narrow path towards the caretaker’s cottage. 

The cottage was more of a bungalow house, complete with a modest yard of its own.  It was nearly as large as Veronica’s childhood home, sprawling and framed with gardens edged in decorative stones.  Three steps led up to a porch of deep oak, where a heavy door without a window loomed as the entrance.  The curtains were all drawn, offering no view inside.

Without hesitation, Veronica jogged up the steps and pounded on the door.  “Hello?  Hello in there?  We have an emergency!”

No answer. 

Wallace approached, standing behind her.  “Knock again?”

“I might have my lock pick kit in my purse somewhere,” Veronica grumbled, shining her light inside.

Logan pounded on the door, calling out to the captain, to no avail.  “Yeah, I’m not getting a good feeling about this…”

Veronica’s stomach turned.  “Enter through the back door?”

“Title of your sex tape!” Dick called out, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth. 

Oh, he did NOT just go there!

Veronica’s hand closed around her Taser, pulling it from her purse.  “After all these years, Dick you still haven’t learned…”

No sooner had Logan and Wallace’s arms flown out to restrain her than the chilling sound of Gia Goodman’s screams rang out from the back of the cottage, startling a snowy owl into a frantic flight across the night sky.

[lianadrayton]

**CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION 11/19**

UPDATED: NOVEMBER 19th, 2020

@tupeloextras

KANE // 24 // SHE/HER // EST

DISCORD: whiskey#6583

I work nights so my replies on the dash and in discord are kind of all over the place time-wise

I am irresponsible so here is a 3rd I said I’d never have

LIANA DRAYTON-CRAWFORD

Full Name: Liana Selene Drayton-Crawford 

Nickname(s): Lia, Duchess 

Birthday: July 5th, 1978 (42) 

Hometown: Chanute, Kansas

Education: Bachelor of Science in Chemistry with a minor in Biochemistry from Northeastern University

Occupation: Waitress at Red’s Diner

Faceclaim: Amy Adams

Content Warning(s):

Divorce, Emotional Manipulation/Abuse (Implied), Cheating, 

BACKGROUND:

Liana was born & raised in Chanute, Kansas to young parents (18, 19) who had no concept of the amount of work it took to raise a child

She was raised on hard work, thrift shops, and Sunday mass by her maternal grandparents as her parents never stepped up to the plate to try their hand in raising their daughter

Already absent in much of her life, the couple broke up in their mid-20′s and her father moved to Washington state and was not heard from after that point 

Her mother never ended up going to college and ended up marrying a lineman and moved away against the wishes of her parents, officially leaving Liana behind with her grandparents

Though her parental situation was different her life with her grandparents was great

They may have been some of the poorest people in the already poor, little midwestern town.. but they were all rich in love which was what mattered the most 

The moment that Liana could get a job she did and her first job was working in a local flower shop and then moved to picking up shifts at the diner 

All of the money she made went to help her grandparents with bills even though they would protest and downright refuse her offer to help. Liana would often secretly go and pay off some small bills anyway behind their backs to help 

Anything extra of Liana’s that could be spared was saved so she could purchase a car. Her first vehicle was a 1985 Ford Escort (9 years old by the time of purchase). Issues with the vehicle were worked on by her grandfather (and sometimes Liana herself) as he used to be a mechanic in the town

Even with juggling working and school Liana managed to post outstanding scores and was named the valedictorian of her class (even though it was a small class it still felt like a great accomplishment with the way her parents had both barely graduated from high school) 

She was accepted and granted a scholarship to attend Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts for chemistry

While in Boston, Liana met Alexander “Lex” Crawford who was attending Harvard University in the neighboring Cambridge, Massachusetts for law 

The two began dating officially roughly 6 months after meeting

During Liana’s 4th year at Northeastern and Lex’s final year in law school, Liana found out that she was pregnant with Lex’s child (~2 months before graduation)

After graduation Lex proposed to Liana and the two had a fast-tracked wedding late that summer

The two would end up having 3 children in total and remain happily married for over 10 years before issues arose

MARRIAGE & DIVORCE: TW Divorce, Emotional Manipulation/Abuse, Cheating 

They welcomed their first child in 2000, a boy, named Theodore “Theo” Crawford

Even though Liana had her degree her dreams of pursuing a career were cut short and she instead became a stay-at-home mother to care for Theo full time (as per the request of her husband and his family)

Five years after the birth of Theo, Liana and Lex had another child in 2005 - this time a girl named Ava Crawford

For the first few years of marriage Lex was fairly sincere and loyal to Liana but was often swept up in the scandals of his own family’s bad behavior 

This bad behavior was often praised by other members of his family and he grew to resent Liana for keeping him from enjoying his youth 

Liana spent much of her time with the children and trying to be the perfect housewife 

In a matter of years she had gone from the only thing in her name being a 1985 Ford Escort to having access to a house in the Hamptons, cars, lake homes, and expensive time shares overseas 

She cooked, cleaned, decorated the house for each and every occasion and was always the parent who attended parent-teacher conferences and was also part of the PTA/PTO 

Lex started to go behind Liana’s back with other women (most of whom were college interns or assistants for the law firm) 

Everyone knew about it but no one would say anything since Liana never brought it up as she preferred to pretend that it wasn’t always the hot gossip amongst the circles she was in 

Lex would reel Liana back in by preying on her love for her children, informing her that if they were to divorce he would take the children and she would be left with nothing 

He would also often switch between threats against Liana and grand romantic gestures (empty, of course) to keep her attached to him just enough to not leave

She preferred to wear the rose colored glasses as long as she could though eventually they would break

The worst came when Liana would have their third child together, another boy, in 2015 (Benjamin “Bear” Crawford) 

From there things escalated quickly between Liana and Lex and they divorced in 2018 

Lex would gain full custody of the children at this time by accusations against Liana that she was alienating the children from him

The Crawford reach extended into many of the rich and elite in New England so there was no concern from Lex about keeping custody no matter what Liana did, in fact the custody battle was an attempt to lure her into doing something uncharacteristic then using that against her to ensure that the children would stay with him (though he did it for revenge against her, not because he cared for the children)

Additionally, the Crawford family did not care for Liana that much overall, believing that she was still “some girl from a cornfield in Kansas” and they often called her Dorothy 

Liana would battle with Lex in court over custody until the money ran short, additionally she would see how much of a toll the fighting took on the children and knowing she would never be able to beat her then-husband in court she stopped fighting 

Lex also took out a restraining order against Liana after their legal proceedings were finished

Even though the children had spent 90% of their lives with their mother, their father’s words (and Black Amex) proved to be much more alluring than staying with the person who had seen them through everything in their lives 

By the time the legal battles had settled down, Theo was of-age and went to college. Liana tries to keep in contact with him but he has not been that responsive (reasons not known, suspected influence from his father paying for his schooling) 

Lex offered Liana a large share of money during the divorce as well as vehicles and vacation homes all of which she rejected, only taking what was in her name only 

PERSONALITY:

Liana is very dedicated and loyal to her friends and family (even if sometimes they don’t deserve it) 

Strong work ethic! She never lost this even while being married to someone who would’ve rather just paid for everything to be done rather than do it himself

Very maternal, she tries not to mother everyone but kind of accidentally does it sometimes (she’s working hard on reeling it in) 

She’s very sweet, likes to help others when possible

Tries to see people for the best instead of the worst (hence staying with her husband for so long) even if it comes back to bite her in the ass

Can be almost a little too kind, this usually lead to her being used like a door mat but her divorce gave her some strength to push back once things got to be too much 

Walking Pinterest board, she’s creative and enjoys her little projects. Often subjecting friends to testing them out with her (whether it’s building something or baking a recipe that looks good) 

FAST FACTS:

Liana moved to Tupelo as an attempt to go somewhere where no one would know her 

She could not go home as her family there is no longer around and no one could ever track down her father after he moved to Washington 

She has deep regrets and embarrassment over not being able to get custody of her children and does not speak of them (as she does not want to explain anything) 

Her home is bare of any photographs that would hint that she has children 

She will speak of her ex-husband, but only briefly and not mention what he did but instead say that they split due to differing opinions on where they wanted their lives to lead 

She still enjoys cooking and decorating as they are some of the few things she finds comforting, she also finds having live flowers in her home 

Liana has two pets - a Great Dane named Salem and a brown tabby cat named “Billy the Kitten” based off the character of the same name from the popular mobile app Neko Atsume (both pets were handed over to Liana during the divorce) 

Liana now lives in small home with a decent yard, using the remaining money she had to purchase it mostly for the yard for Salem (the inside of the home is lined with carpet runners for the dog and there is not an abundance of furniture that is not necessary as to accommodate Salem’s size) 

Liana can be seen walking Salem often or having Salem outside with her while she gardens, Salem can wander freely around the property when Liana is outside - otherwise he is limited to the fence (which he can stick his head over) 

She has a Mercedes (which she hates) and can never get it worked on without taking it to a larger city 

She kept the Crawford part of her last name as (for whatever reason) it makes her feel closer to her children in some small way 

BEST FRIEND FROM COLLEGE TM:  (Taken WC by Ethan Morris, Jake Gyllenhaal FC)

These two met while attending Northeastern and quickly became close friends 

Just because they were close didn’t necessarily mean that he always supported or even liked the fact that Liana was dating Lex Crawford

He & Lex shared a mutual distain for one another

Even with this, the two would eventually attend each other’s weddings 

Right before he got married he asked Liana to leave Lex and to essentially have a modern-day runaway sequence with him (no points for timing) 

Unfortunately, she could not bring herself to divorce her husband at the time 

After he got married they began to drift apart

CONNECTIONS:

Friends! 

People she mothers on accident 

Other dog people (and cat)

Those who benefit/are subjected to taste testing random recipes she finds

Regulars at Red’s 

Her kid?? This could be a WC at some point I guess (We out here being flexible on most of that)

She’s not really looking for anything romantic at all - but y’know sometimes it hits you when you least expect 

Maybe someone who actually did know her from the east coast (whoops)

Everything!!

[a-certain-academy-city]

Toaru Kagaku no Academy City - A City in Turmoil / Empowered Justice

Life in Academy City was becoming rather hectic in a lot of areas.

It had been almost three weeks since the mysterious organization/entity known as F.A.I.T.H had announced itself to the city, threatening to wage war and revealed the fact that Academy City was the last civilized human society on the planet, things were not the same as they used to be.

While the explanation as to why contact outside the city was cut, with internet and television stations being limited, and why people weren’t allowed to leave the city, even with the proper ways, it didn’t sit well with a lot of the residents at all.

There were millions of students, as well as faculty members like teachers and others who had families outside of Academy City, families that were supposed to be visiting them for the now canceled Daihasei festival. Now, they had learned the awful truth, that those family members and loved ones had been incinerated along with the rest of the world.

Some questioned how Academy City ended up being spared, how weather seemed to be normal whereas the outside was rendered inhospitable for human life, but it was the fact that people they knew were gone, and they were the last of mankind that didn't sit well for many at all.

Many fell into despair, some even became furious at the Board Chairman and the rest of Academy City officials such as the Board of Directors for not disclosing this information sooner. When it was revealed, it had already been months since the humanity incineration event happened, about around the start of the summer season. It was Fall now, and the fact that it took this long for such information to be disclosed set many a radical over the edge.

As such was the case of ZERO.

ZERO had only started off as a disorganized gang, not unlike Skill-Out which originally sought to take down  the Espers of Level 3 and higher. They were apparently inspired by Level 0s who had managed to defeat the #1, #3, and #4 in battle and decided to carry out crimes in their name. They only knew of Hamazura Shiage, who defeated the #4, but did not know the name of the one who had defeated the previous two Level 5s.

ZERO had been around long before the supposed Incineration of Humanity took place, but they had recently grown in numbers, amassing weapons and resources from an unknown origin. By the time the reveal had been made, ZERO had grown into a full on terrorist organization.

Lost was the original idea of opposing Espers in the name of justice, but instead became about fighting off what they believed to be powerful oppressors. The Board Chairman who was not only the most powerful Esper in the City, but was the leader of the science side, and Violent Violet, a mysterious person who ended up becoming more or less a household name for the city, but was also recognized as a person with limitless strength, had most of ZERO’s hostility directed towards them. The organization believed them to be the worst of oppressors and that they had to be brought down from their position as the most powerful people in Academy City, which in essence, meant the world.

ZERO was no longer just a gang that was made up of primarily Level 0s and 1s. Instead, it went from being a gang, to a movement, to a hostile organization that even had Level 4s in its ranks. The separation of levels and rankings became irrelevant, for they were united in their effort of opposing their opressors.

ZERO had conducted all sorts of attacks around the City. Attacks  were conducted on places lie the Agikade Research Centre in District 14, the Database for the Understanding of Cellular Research in District 17, the Hotsukichi Research Facility in District 7 and then there were numerous building collapses over the past few weeks that have been left unsolved.

A lot had been going on in Academy City, and it felt like they were at the tipping point of something big.

But even so, there were many in the city who were going to protect the city.

The city had some important heroes, of whom seemed to vanish off the face of the earth, but even so, even in their place, someone would step up.

“...Ever since it had been revealed that Academy City was the last City on Earth, things have been reaching a boiling point. Our families are gone, the world we came to know is also gone, and the prospect of Onee-sama being gone with it terrifies me so.”

As someone who had devoted her heart to Misaka Mikoto, Shirai Kuroko found the prospect of being separated from her for an unspecified, yet certainly extended period of time to not be appealing, but she respected her decision to leave through that strange Tower,  a tower that had supposedly lead her to somewhere else unreachable for Shirai.

But with it being revealed that Academy City was the only man-made construct on this planet, with all other humans and life being wiped out, she was worried, no, feared for Mikoto’s well-being. Where exactly did she go? What happened to her when the incineration hit? These were questions that continued to fill her mind as the days go by, that lively dorm room in Tokiwadai having grown silent and lonely during Mikoto’s absence. Even though she would have the company of Uiharu Kazari, Saten Ruiko, the odd girl who often worked at the District 7 General Hospital, and even Kongo Mitsuko and her friends, as well as Hokaze Junko, it was Misaka Mikoto who left empty space on her life that was too big to ignore. Thus, it felt like she was lost.

Shirai was also worried about the City itself and its long term future. She was not aware of the forces that destroyed humanity nor the forces that may have been trying to undo that destruction, she understood that there was a possibility, a strong one in fact, that this destruction will have an impact on the city, if not already.

While Academy City was a self sustaining superpower, it required resources from the outside to do that. Forget scientific development, with all life dead, what were they going to do about food, water, and other basic necessities? Shirai knew of a similar event that happened to Academy City a few months back, in which the entire city was sent far into the future where human civilization had collapsed from disease and war. It was only thanks to the only human organization in that time period that Academy City was getting resources it needed to continue on for as long as it needed.

But now?

There was no organization supporting them from the outside. The world outside, unlike in the future, was completely dead, meaning no animal or plant life was around. Academy City was forced to rely on what they had in order to keep itself running, but that was only going to get them so far.

And when they ran out of resources for their basic needs and technological development, what would happen then?

“...But even so, I must do my part. As a member of Judgement, I will protect this city as best as I can. After all, it would be something that she would do if our positions were reversed.”

Shirai Kuroko did not know about the complex intricacies of the world. She had only caught a glimpse into it when she met the Board Chairman & First Ranked Level 5 for the first time and gotten involved with the incident surrounding a Magician and his familiar, but that was all she could see.

It was her role to be a symbol of Justice in this City that was on a crossroads in fate. And she would continue to enforce justice as she had always done.

She was not about to fall into despair and cry over a seemingly hopeless situation.

She would stand, and do her part to help the city she came to know and appreciate thrive. Her motivation was helped with the speech given by Violent Violet much after F.A.I.T.H’s, but also with hope that she may be reunited with her upperclassman.

[sykilik101]

Extrasensory

It came without warning, like an assassination in the night. They had inexplicably begun teasing him, egging him on about his "obvious" crush on the girl. He'd had little luck deciphering their motives. Perhaps for their own sense of entertainment or pleasure, or maybe out of sheer boredom, or maybe they'd had some life-altering revelation that dictated that they make a mockery of his love life, or lack of. This had gone on for months now, and from the beginning their jests had been nothing but an annoyance, comments constructed for the sole purpose of provoking him. As time passed, however, their words slowly worked into his mind like tiny drills, and eventually their lies shifted into his truths. With each passing day, his blushes grew darker, the racing of his heart became more rapid, and his thoughts were more isolated, focused simply on one person.

Eventually, he’d returned home, where he was met with a surprise greeting with the girl. The moment he saw her, everything came full circle. He knew her eye color, and could recall it to the exact hue, but he'd never noticed the sparkle in them when she smiled, like the ocean reflecting the early morning. Speaking of her smile, hers radiated in a manner that had never before tugged at his chest the way it did now. He must've grown taller, maybe a few inches or so, because he now had to lower his gaze to meet hers. As she hugged him, there was an aroma, a sensation that tickled his nose and levitated his heart into the back of his throat. He fought to swallow it back where it belonged, pumping blood at a comfortable rate instead of trying to suffocate him internally. There was a renewed press against his torso, one he'd felt from her before but never to this extent in her presence. His breaths were released in shudders at her closeness, at her touch, and it was an experience completely foreign to him.

Of all this, however, what stood out most in his hormonally-driven, out of control mind was the feeling of her skin. Maybe it was for the sake of nostalgia, or maybe it was because of the warm weather in Pallet Town, or even both, but she had reverted back to the outfit she'd worn when they’d first met. In their embrace his fingertips lightly grazed the small of her back, and even that minuscule meeting of flesh sent his body and mind into a maddening frenzy. It was a miracle to him that he wasn't bursting at the seams from exhilaration, but it was conceivable that somewhere in the depths of his throttled brain, the notion that he was enjoying the contact helped him keep his sanity in check, or whatever he could retain in his situation.

He allowed his consciousness to return to him, realizing that she'd finally ended the embrace. The lingering remnants of her scent must have been playing tricks on his sight, he concluded to himself as the girl headed inside the house, urging him to follow. That couldn't have been a brush of red on her cheeks. Could it?

Through the excitable reunion with his mother and the miniature feast prepared for his return, he finally gained some alone time. Lying on his bed, he attempted to tie down his thoughts, hoping to make sense of them all. In the past, the relationship between his head and his heart had always been platonic, and it worked for him. Never too concerned with romance, he instead put all his efforts into his dream. Not that anything could deter him from this goal; anyone and everyone who knew him could tell he would see it through to the end. He didn't mind small distractions here and there; helping someone in need, making time to meet new friends, participating in a competition purely for personal enjoyment. However, he perceived anything with the potential to make him lose sight of his ambition as a threat.

And love reeked of potential.

Not that he harbored any gripes with it. It was that emotion that let him care for his mother, as well as his friends, albeit in a strictly friendly way. To see it grow into something that would avert his gaze frightened him. Years had passed, and yet no experience or mix of words had diminished his desire; in fact, as his journey had progressed, the vision of being named the World's Greatest Pokémon Master only clarified.

And yet, why was he thinking about it now? He initially decided to lay the blame on his friends' taunting, but that couldn't be right. False accusations against his heart had been presented before, but they'd never gotten this kind of response out of him. Not in all his years of traveling had he struggled so ardently to calm his body down outside of a Pokémon battle. And yet here he was, at the mercy of a girl who held him delicately in the palm of her hand, and she didn't even know it.

Ash rolled to his side, allowing the warm sunlight to seep through the window and caress his face. He groaned, shuffling in place and closing his eyes to keep from being blinded. A soft slumber began overtaking him. He resisted, although weakly. Perhaps the days of travel were catching up to him, or the familiar softness of his own bed was luring him in, pleading to be occupied once more. Whatever the cause, he curled up, kicking his shoes off and letting them fall to the floor with a dull thud. The sedation only furthered as he pulled the blanket over his body. A small nap wouldn't hurt, he thought, and so with a small yawn, he allowed himself to be carried off into his dreams, that faraway place where there was no confusion, no worry, and where his feelings were as clear as the pools of water he saw in Misty's eyes.

xxxxx

The week that followed was unlike anything that Ash had experienced before. He'd lost control of his bodily functions more often than he could count. First thing to go were his vocal chords. Misty's presence was enough to render the boy speechless, or at the very least unable to speak a coherent sentence. And when he could manage a civil conversation, the chances of the sentence making any intellectual sense were hopeful at best.

Next was his sense of direction, though some would say he never had it to begin with. Walking into walls, slipping on objects, knocking objects over; he'd even temporarily forgotten where his room was when Misty had greeted him from his exit from the shower, an incident he'd rather be shoved deep into his memories, never again to see the light of day. Though, he was almost certain that her gaze was upon him longer than a normal glance should be, and when she'd turned away, his eyes had fooled him into believing she was grinning.

It was then, really, that he'd named his sight as the third function he'd lost control of. It wasn't so much that he was losing his vision; no, what was happening was that he was seeing things that weren't really there. His eyes had betrayed him, casting illusions and mirages to distort him into losing focus on what was real. Often times, during the middle of the utter catastrophes he called conversations with her, he noticed more smiles, more blushes. On the occasion when his eyes wanted to truly abandon him, he'd be unable to avert them, succumbing to their desires to remain fastened to her.

Indeed, the previous days had been a nightmarish agony, and as he gazed up at the ceiling, he angrily interrogated his emotions, slaving away for a confession. He wanted to know everything. He knew in the back of his emotionally obliterated mind that he had special feelings for her. Not ones a simple friend could admit to, nor the meager crush his friends had initially claimed he had on her; oh no, no. This, this was something far more sinister. Whatever this was, it was wreaking havoc on his very being. And he wouldn't let this go unanswered; he wanted names, places, anything to give him a clue as to when, and why.

Why. Now that was the truly elusive one, particularly because there were so many whys that he couldn't comprehend, the most prominent being why her. Perhaps it was the duration he'd spent with her, or the friendship they'd managed to forge over the remains of a broken, charred bicycle. He'd never understood what made her special, and no matter how hard he sought to understand, every step forward seemed to be in the wrong direction.

Feeling his blood boil, he jumped up from his bed, hopeful that a walk would appease his growing temper. Closing the door harder than he'd intended, he descended the stairs to find his mother staring at him questionably from the kitchen.

"Ash, honey, is something the matter?"

Even without the obvious sign of the door slamming, Ash knew his mom would've known about his foul mood with just one glance at him. She'd always been able to tell, despite how he'd try to hide it. Even now, soft as they appeared to be, her eyes were scanning him, picking out each and every tidbit of distress in his heart. He'd even go so far as to assume she already knew the problem, or at the very least had a notion.

He smiled as honestly as he could, knowing full well she could see how fake it was. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just gonna go for a walk, okay?"

For the briefest of moments, silence. Her eyes never wavered; neither did his. They shared not words or expressions, but a basic understanding that there was a problem, one which could neither be discussed nor solved through any ordinary or simple means. It would take time. Patience was the solution. Or perhaps action; a firm, head-on assault against the issue. Or…maybe both. A strategic, well-timed ambush would be most effective. Wait for the right moment to strike, and victory was assured.

All of this was conveyed between them instantaneously in a manner only they understood, shared by the bond of a mother and son.

"Okay, but be careful. And don't stay out too late, alright?" She warned, but quickly followed with the special, small smile a parent saves for their child.

This time, Ash's grin was genuine. "Sure, mom." And moments later, he was gone.

Down the dusty road he went, going wherever his feet carried him. He reveled in the crunch of the dirt below him, savoring the gusts of wind passing by. It was all so familiar, and in that familiarity there was solace. His hands slid into his pockets, his thoughts fixed on a destination. With the sun only an hour or two away from departing for the night, he imagined the beach would be a good way to ease his mind. It was one of his most beloved spots in all of Pallet, and to see it below the glow of the evening sky was a rare treat for him.

And perhaps Misty would be there. He grimaced, unsuccessfully attempting to usher the redhead from his thoughts.

It wasn't long before the hard dirt beneath his steps turned into soft sand, crushing and sinking beneath him. The waves lapped softly near the shore, occasionally leaving behind a strand of seaweed or pulling a wandering Krabby back into the murky depths. The smell of the sea whipped around him, salty and slightly chilled by the approaching night. He removed his socks and shoes, leaving his feet vulnerable to the still warm sand and smooth seashells. He wiggled his toes, relaxed by how the minuscule grains clung between them. He walked towards the water, halting when it rose to his ankles. It was cool, but warm enough for a person to enjoy if they were smart enough to keep their body moving.

Absentmindedly, his eyes scanned the beach, looking for any signs of human life. A tiny flock of Spearow cawed from above, but otherwise only the lapping of the waves filled the air.

Then, the silence was broken by a person emerging from the sea. And for a fleeting moment, Ash swore he'd seen a mermaid.

It took him two blinks to realize that it was Misty, who'd let her hair out of its ponytail. The flush in his cheeks that he'd become so familiar with in the past week returned as he watched her swim along the surface, occasionally diving below. He grinned to himself, admiring how graceful she was in the water. He'd known swimming was her specialty, but she was far more enjoyable to watch than he last recalled.

It wasn't long before the redhead became aware of her audience of one, moving to the beach to get a closer look. "Ash? What are you doing here?"

Looking for you.

"Uh, I just went for a walk, and I wanted to come here. To see if there were any Pokémon I could catch." He wasn't very good at lying.

Fortunately, she seemed to believe him. The rest of Ash's face warmed, feeling his stomach tingle as Misty rose from the water. Her tangerine hair spilled down her shoulders, reaching down to tickle the middle of her back. She wore a simple blue two-piece, but it complimented the shapeliness she'd acquired in the years. It wasn't skimpy, but it was all kinds of alluring, enticing him as he felt his leg take a small step forward. He managed to keep the other leg under control, but the one step was enough to get Misty's attention.

"Is something wrong?"

I never realized how pretty you are.

He grit his teeth as discreetly as he could, hating the flood of thoughts that swallowed his mind with each conversation they shared. The fact that no one else was around only increased the tension he felt. He shook his head, both to clear his mind and to answer her question. "I'm fine. So, why are <i>you</i> out here?"

"Well, it's been so long since I've been able to swim at a beach, so I thought now would be a good opportunity. The Gym is great and all, but a beach feels so nice and open."

Suddenly, there was a strange look in her eye, one he'd seen a few times through the week but never managed to decipher. Her hands clasped behind her back, gently putting her weight on one leg to lean to the side. "So, Ash, do you think I look good in this?"

Unbelievably amazing.

His face was frying as he worked to keep his composure. "Huh? Um, well…I…yeah, you look great." He inwardly applauded himself for making a sensible sentence.

Misty giggled. "Thanks." Her eyes widened for a moment before turning her attention to the ocean, then back to Ash. "Hey, you wanna go swimming with me?"

"Huh? But, I…"

"Come on, Ash, it'll be fun!" Misty quickly took his hand, pulling him back towards the ocean. Only a few steps in, however, she found Ash had rooted himself to the spot. She eyed him, curious, worried. "Ash, is something wrong?"

Ash, however, was focused only on the hand that held his. It was soft, and he wasn't able to control his thumb as it gently rubbed along her knuckles. His gaze remained fastened to the ground, fearful of what she'd say or how she would look at him for his actions. "Misty, um…I…"

It was gentle, but her grip strengthened. He looked to find a smile on her face. It was then that a wordless connection was made, an extrasensory union much like with his mom but on a more intimate level. He knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling, and vice-versa. All of his worries, his confusion, his affections; she saw it all. Nothing was hidden from her, no matter how embarrassing or secret. And in her he could see the same. He felt hope, wonder, curiosity, hurt…but most of all, love. In some ethereal transition, their thoughts were being shared, and they both understood.

They didn't have to say a word. They both knew how the other felt.

Ash smiled in return, gingerly squeezing Misty's hand. He knew her heart must have skipped a beat, because his did. She nudged her head to the waters and he smirked. He managed to remove his jacket, gloves, and cap, and he only just barely pulled his shirt off before Misty dragged him to the ocean. His yelps were quickly drowned out by seawater, having been rashly dunked under the surface. His body surged with a jolt, unaccustomed to the sudden drop in temperature. His mind blanked momentarily before he was able to properly feel the hands pressing down upon his shoulders. Managing to scrape the sand below with his feet, he jumped up, breaking through the surface with a breathless gasp. His hair clung to his face as his eyes flickered about, searching for a sign of the girl. She'd disappeared, most likely underneath him. He felt like prey, soon to be the meal of the menacing predator that'd set their eyes on him.

Ten seconds passed, yet still no glimmer of movement. He groaned; he was aware of how long she could hold her breath if she really tried. It would be another minute, maybe sooner, before she emerged. Adrenaline pumped through him, heightening his senses. No sloshing of the waves went unnoticed, and no unnatural breaking of the water would be out of his vision. Suddenly he froze, feeling a set of hands wrap around him from behind, caressing his stomach. The touch wasn't threatening, so he relaxed as he felt Misty rise behind him.

His face flushed, yet he was pleased at the redhead's gentle affections. He couldn't say he disliked it; being so close to her was sending a warm shudder through his body. She seemed captivated, taking him in and memorizing every muscle and piece of skin. Her chin rested on his shoulder, their cheeks grazing together. A mere day ago, all of this would have been strange, even taboo. No more would that be the case.

His mind and body told him to touch her back, and for the first time in a week, there was no resistance. He snuggled his face against hers, taking her hands in his. She giggled, planting her lips on his cheek. His previous blush doubled in strength, his stomach swelling as she slowly kissed him over and over. She'd been waiting for this, for years; he'd seen it when they'd made their connection. The dam had finally been allowed to break, and he was being hit with the aftermath. No longer worrying about hiding or concealing his emotions, he let his fingers intertwine with hers, and through the touch he felt warmth fill his veins. The moment seemed perfect.

That is, until Ash decided to have some more fun.

With an "accidental" slip that tossed him off his balance and a scream, the pair fell backwards, surrounded once again by liquid. Misty was the first to rise, gasping for air. She moved the strands of hair in her face behind her ear, searching around for Ash. Though it was predictable, she didn't expect him to come from behind, taking a firm hold on her. Now it was she who was the captive; not that she minded. Unlike before, however, Ash turned her, leaving them face to face.

For the second time that day, their gazes were locked. Ash's fingers fiddled with her slick lower back absentmindedly, his fingernails occasionally scraping the skin. Misty grinned pleasantly, though he was unable to tell if it was from the gentle caresses or something else. Her hands snaked up his chest before ensnaring her arms around his neck, taking hold and pulling herself closer towards him.

"You don't have to be so nervous, Ash."

It was barely above a whisper, yet he heard each word clearly. His competitive instincts immediately kicked in. "I'm not nervous," he replied with a small pout.

Misty grinned. "I can tell that you are, you know."

Ash tilted his head, intrigued at the girl's claim. "How?"

She giggled, almost victoriously. "Because you just told me."

The boy's heart sunk, as did his jaw. Once again Misty had managed to outwit him, and there was no chance that he would admit it. There was no way to counter her tactics. Unless…

"Well, you're nervous, too. I can tell."

"Oh, really? Well, how’s that?"

Inwardly, Ash cringed. She hadn't worded it properly for him to retort. All hope seemed lost, as his brain wracked itself in all manners possible in an attempt to find a viable solution. Suddenly, however, he felt something. It was gentle at first, but he soon knew exactly what it was, and he grinned; he'd found his answer. "I can feel your heart beating really hard."

Misty's expression blanked for a moment, blinking twice before realizing just how tight of a hold she had on him. She blushed sharply before her body reacted on instinct. "ASH, YOU-!"

The poor boy didn't hear the last word, as the combination of a loud smack and the crashing of water drowned out his ability to register sound. Moments later, his body drifted to the surface. There was no point in tending to the searing slap mark on his face, he thought; the pain would dwindle away eventually.

And besides, seeing Misty with a genuinely concerned look on her face was enough to ease his grief.

"Ash, are you alright?"

He chuckled, carelessly floating along the water's surface. "Yeah, that still hurts."

Misty smirked, half annoyed. "Well, maybe next time you won't say things like that."

The sun was now barely peeking over the horizon, making the visibility of the shore dim. The water had become chilly, ushering the two out with a small, icy wave. Soaked and with very little light to dry them off, the pair groaned in frigid agony. Thankfully, there was no breeze to freeze their skin, but the risk of catching a cold was not one either was willing to take. The two got dressed, but Ash took note of Misty rubbing her arms, attempting to gather warmth. He thought to himself for a moment, then smiled.

Misty continued to apply friction to her body, hoping to retain as much heat as she could. Her skin was still moist, and she shivered under the cooling night. Suddenly, she felt something warm cover her shoulders. She turned to see Ash placing his jacket around her, a newfound affection in his eyes. Magenta seared across Misty's face, though she managed to control it with a tender smile.

With the sunset behind them, the two departed back to Ash's house, their fuzzy shadows connected at the hand.

xxxxx

The moon had long since replaced the sun as ruler of the sky, leaving the world covered in a black veil. Hours after everyone had gone to sleep, Ash and Misty had snuck out, sitting atop the roof. Reflected in their eyes were countless stars as they sat together, leaning against each other for warmth and support.

"Hey, Ash?" Misty wrapped her arms around his, her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He whispered back, his cheek nestled atop her orange hair.

"Talk about something."

He chuckled, but inwardly reflected on how strange it sounded for Misty to say that. Maybe the long span of time had changed her, because the redhead he'd known years ago would never even have considered thinking such a thing; she'd have more than likely said there was no point in talking when you didn't need to, or something similar. Or perhaps that would only have applied to him. The thought tickled his fancy and released another chuckle, and it was beginning to irk at Misty's curiosity.

"Hey, what's so funny?"

He smirked, his gaze still to the sky. "I guess I'm just kind of getting used to this."

He could feel her smile before she cuddled up closer into him. "Same here. It feels a little weird, to be honest, but I don't think it's bad."

Ash hummed in agreement and the pair was silent again, if only for a few moments.

"Ash, I said talk about something." Her voice was meant to sound stern, but playfulness and affection seeped through the cracks.

He lovingly bopped his head against hers. "Well, give me something to talk about."

Misty tapped at her chin, her eyes rolled back in thought. Her gaze floated along the starry ocean, taking in its majesty. "Have you ever made a wish on a star?"

Ash was quiet for a moment before he chuckled to himself. "Yeah, a lot when I was little. I'd wish I could find and catch a Pokémon, or that I could beat Gary at something for once."

Misty giggled, loving Ash's sudden pouty expression at the recollection of his rival. "Well, wanna make one right now?" Her hold on his arm tightened as she rocked the both of them side to side.

He grinned, scooting closer to her. "Sure."

Then, they looked to the stars. A minute flew by as they both contemplated potential wishes, and then looking for prime stars to wish upon. The two seemed to know when the other was done as Ash spoke up just as Misty had finished. "So what did you wish for?"

"Ash, you're not supposed to tell. Then it won't come true."

"Come on, Misty, tell me."

As much as she hated to admit it, the immunity to Ash's slightly lopsided grin that she'd had as a young girl had abandoned her, leaving her unable to keep her thoughts to herself as much as she'd like. She wanted to tell him no, and that he would just have to keep wondering, but the endearing look in his eyes compelled her to tell him all of her hopes and wishes. Starting with the one she'd just made. "I will, but first tell me yours."

He raised a quirky eyebrow, huffing amusedly. His cheeks flushed, but he cleared his throat and spoke. "I wished that one day, when I become a Pokémon Master, you'd be there to celebrate with me."

Misty found herself blushing as a joyous tingle shot through her. She giggled blissfully as she released her hold on his arms, opting to secure his torso instead. It took Ash by surprise, but nonetheless allowed him to snake his now free arm over her shoulders.

"So what did you wish for?"

In her euphoria, she'd almost forgotten about her end of the deal. She'd hoped he would have as well, considering how embarrassing her wish was. She nibbled at her lip, taking in a soft breath. "Well, I wished that we would be together…forever." In all her years of friendship, she couldn't recall feeling her heart moving so erratically. It felt foreign to admit such a thing, especially to the object of her affections. As if she were searching for reassurance, her hold on the boy strengthened, practically clinging for dear life.

She'd hoped to be met with comforting words, but instead received light laughter. It struck a nerve as she glared upwards at Ash. "What's so funny?"

His chuckles were amused, but not malignant. "It's a nice wish, really, but it seemed a bit silly to me for a moment."

Her lips pursed, wondering what in the world Ash could be thinking. "How come?"

At this, his expression became earnest, his attention solely on her. "Well, it's not like you have to wish for that. We'll always be together, no matter what."

The words were simple, but the effect was astounding. She'd heard words of pure sincerity from him before, but never had they been so exclusive, so strong in magnitude that they left her lost for words. She could only call it magic. Her speechlessness, her shaky lips, and the tightening in her chest were all the effects of the spell he was casting on her. Her breaths were caught in her throat as she lost herself in his eyes, nearly hidden under the shadows of the moonlight. She needed to tell him; she had to. She felt he had to know, but she couldn't bring herself to utter a sound. It was as if words would ruin the moment. In a crazed swirl, her thoughts screamed at her, dictating that he know of what she was feeling. But if words were useless, then how?

And then, the answer was obvious.

He appeared to have picked up on it as well because he suddenly licked his lips, turning his cap around so as not to interfere. Their hearts jittered about in a stupor as their faces inched closer, stopping when their foreheads and the tips of their noses connected. One last time the pair exchanged glances, looking for signs of apprehension or discomfort. All they could see was what was reflected in each other, and they smiled. Then, with a gentle tilting of their heads, the gap was closed.

Words were meaningless. Their hearts said it all, loud and clear.

[eluthanai]

The Story of Hiereus: A Flashback within a Flashback.

The below story was the original backstory for my character Hiereus.- 

Hiereus sat on a stone near the fire he had built outside the kobold slave camp. The fire itself was small as not to draw the attention of the house whose field he was in, but big enough that the kobolds knew he was there.

“The light of the Flame is liberation, and the path to freedom is trust and benevolence,” he spoke the mantra in his limited draconic vocabulary avoiding the common used by their human masters.  As he spoke the words the Flame's light became a bright scarlet; its warmth touching not only his skin but reflected deep in his soul.

It was his third night outside the camp, four full months since he left his home in Eluthane in his search for Moira. That search itself had turned up little, but finding himself in Vinita Hiereus had seethed to find the persistence of slavery in the Republic, for all the talk of liberty in the fledgling nation he had been disappointed. 

As it was no kobold had yet approached the fence near his fire. Still he remained; their sidelong glances reassured him of their curiosity.   

He stared deep into the flames as his mind drifted to a time too far away when he and his sister prepared for their first guarding rites.

***

Hiereus was fifteen as he prepared for his first time ministering rites as a member of the Eluthanai Temple. His mother was still officiating of course, but this was a right of passage into the priesthood for him and his sister. 

“Are you still getting ready?” Moira's voice came from the door, “Mother's waiting for us,” she said. 

“One moment,” Hiereus called, “I need to apply some ointment to my stump,” he said, reaching for a bottle he kept on his writing desk.

“It's still bothering you?” his sister asked concerned, “It's been weeks since we made our lamps.” She ran her hand over the place from where her own horn had been cut.

Hiereus offered his sister a pacifying smile, “It's only irritating once and a while now, I just don't want it to act up during the ceremony.”

Moira rolled her eyes and nodded, “Of course,” she said, “But hurry, you're making us late.” 

The ointment was applied quickly, and soon his hood was raised. Taking up his lamp he followed his sister into the frigid air of Eluthane. 

The guarding rite at the kiln probably drew the largest gathering of the town each year. It wasn't the most religiously significant holiday in the cycle, but the one that affected the livelihood of most of the townsfolk in Eluthane.

Ceramics were his peoples primary export. They weren't the biggest producer of stoneware, but over the generations their work had gained enough of a reputation that Eluthanai pieces were highly valued, sufficient that the communally run kiln could sustain his people in their cold home. 

“So there you are,” their mother, Phose, called as they ran across the frozen earth to meet her. “Your father just came past to tell me they are almost done loading the kiln, I was afraid you'd miss the lighting.” Moira frowned, “You're the leader of the temple mom, you'd think you'd be able to delay the ceremony a bit for your own children.”

Their mother sighed, “A position I have only through the trust of our people, you wouldn't want me to take advantage of that would you?” Hiereus winced at his mother's words. Since gaining their freedom, trust was the foundation of their town's order, leadership was elected, and that was perhaps the biggest token of trust one could win, to violate it, well it was a taboo that was seldom broken.

Moira's tail drooped from the chastisement, “even still 'our people',” she made scare quotes in the air,  “are our friends and neighbors, I'm sure they would forgive you a little tardiness, besides, Hiereus' stump is still bothering him.”

“Moira!” Hiereus cried in a mortified tone.

“What? Still?” his mother said, moving to inspect her son's head.

Hiereus pulled the edges of his hood down over his face in protest, “No, Mom, it's fine.” he said agitated, “Lets just go to the kiln.” he huffed.

“If you say so,” she said, looking down at her son still worried.

“Yes.” he responded, not letting go of his hood until their mother led them away.

---

Most of Eluthane had gathered near the hillside where the great step kiln had been constructed generations ago. Hiereus' could see his older brother, Rai'Tu'Sai, working at  its front loading the wood whose ash would become the color to decorate the work of the potters.

“Ah, mother!” Rai'Tu'Sai said, greeting them as they approached, “We're almost ready, Pa just sealed up the back. Once we've set the kindling you can start.” 

Their mother nodded, and Rai'Tu'Sai turned to his younger siblings, “So, you two ready to stay up all night trending the Flame?” he said with a grin, “To be honest, I'm glad not to be doing your job tonight. I'll tell you what, I'm going to sleep well while you two are out here.” he said as he ran his knuckles over Hiereus head.

��Stop that!” Hiereus wailed, and his brother chuckled.

“I suppose that's why you didn't join the priesthood!” Moira chided.

“Well one of us had to follow in Pa's footsteps, it may as well be me right!” Rai'Tu'Sai said back.

“Cut it out you three,” Their mother reproved them in a harsh whisper while rubbing her eyes, “The whole town's here! And Moira it's good to keep a potter in the family, their work is in many ways harder than ours, and we contribute as a family.” Phose finished.

Moira sighed, “Yeah I know,” she said, “just make him leave Hiereus alone,” Hiereus' tail sank low to the ground as he grumbled. His sister was too quick to defend him, and he wished she would just let him handle himself. 

“Your brother's fine,” Phose said, and Hiereus wasn't sure which she was referring to.

Rai'Tu'Sai shrugged and went back to work. 

---

In short order it was time for the rite of guarding to begin. The Moira and Hiereus followed their mother and the other priests to the pavilion sheltering the front of the kiln, and Hiereus withdrew a prayer book he had tucked into his robes.

“What are you doing?” Moira asked in disbelief, “don't you have your part memorized?” she said through clenched teeth. 

“I do.” Hiereus whispered back defensively, “I just want to be sure.”

“Whatever,” Moira breathed, “Just remember they all know you're my brother.” “What's that supposed to mean?” Hiereus asked but apparently not softly enough as he caught the fiery gave of his mother that cut him short.

The tone of a bell silenced the crowd as Phose stepped forward, her horn lamp held aloft, it's flame deep red. 

“We who once toiled enslaved by darkness are now liberated by light.” she intoned. 

The next priest stepped forward and lit their lamp from the one Phose held, “By the light of the Flame our work is now ours” they said as the Flame's light was shared with them.

Moira then joined the others, and their mother lowered her lamp to share the flame with her. “Trust and benevolence is the path to freedom, may we share our work and labor together.” she said as the flame on her lamp took its crimson hue.

Heiress had followed along in his book, and his turn had now come. He stepped forward and met his mother's smile. “May the light of the Flame … Protect our labors...” he was reading aloud phrase by phrase and frowned as he stumbled, “my they carry its light... so that the darkness... cannot over take them.” He looked at the ground as he finished.

His mother nodded and raised his chin as she lit his lamp, “You did good,” she whispered to him, and he was relieved when it turned red like the others; its power reflected in his heart.

Then he with the other priests turned to the kindling at the base of the kiln, “May the light of the Flame provide you with strength, wherever you go.” they chanted together as they each lowered their lamps to light the kindling together.

The potters who worked the kiln pumped bellows to stoke the Flame which soon spread to the wood inside.  Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, and Hiereus grinned to hear them break out into the traditional song.

Whirlwinds of danger are racing around us

O'erwhelming forces of darkness prevail

Still in the fight see advancing before us

Red Flame of liberty that yet shall prevail!

Then all of you workers

Rightly will reign 

All over the world

and the land and the sea

On with the fight for the cause of our liberty 

March march your toilers, and the world shall be free!

Then all of you workers

Rightly will reign 

All over the world

and the land and the sea

On with the fight for the cause of our liberty 

March march your toilers, and the world shall be free!      

      ***

The memory of years past was bittersweet since his sister disappeared. It had been that night she had brought it to him, the book of drow lore, a variation of the Ballad of Creation. 

A community of the dark elves lived in a cave network in the hills south of Eluthane, which had led Hiereus to study Undercommon.  Moira had given it to him as a gift to encourage his studies. But in some ways the myths he translated from it were the beginnings of their troubles. 

They had known the story of Creation, or at least the most common story, but the drow who lived in the caves, they didn't believe they sheared a creation by Zephranus like the other elves, instead they believed their genesis to be from the caves themselves. Further the text called the tieflings demons, the spawn of the same who had once enslaved them, rather than the creation of Liliq.

Hiereus grimaced, that book ate at his sister's soul until she left to find their true creator whomever it was.    

His only hint that she was still alive was a sending he received a year before his journey began, “I found it.”That was all the contact that he had, and his own attempts to respond had failed. 

He poked the coals of his fire, and sighed. Looking up he saw that he was being watched closely by a kobold through the fence.

“Who are you?” the kobold said in it's own draconic dialect.

“One whose people were once enslaved like yourself, one who brings the light of the Flame, and to show you the way to liberation.”

Fin.

The theme found here is a variation of The Warsawian. Later songs and poems I compose myself.  

[maskydoo-old]

Nightmare Neighbors 6

(I’m writing out scripts for upcoming storytime style youtube videos, and posting what I have here. Note that this is a true story. Feedback is welcome.)

Nightmare Neighbors 6 draft

Imagine the angriest crazies you’ve ever met online. Now imagine they know where you live. Now imagine, they routinely hang around near your house, waiting to catch you outside and alone.

Somehow, my life next to Loony and Toony Feckwad was like living right next to the worst kind of Youtube comments section.

And there’s no simple block function.

Now, I’ve been using the made-up names for these people throughout the telling of this story so far, but during these events, I didn’t actually know these people’s names.

I figured at this point, since I was getting the law involved, I really should find out.

Also, I told my boss about what happened, and he told the higher ups at the company. They decided for security reasons to preemptively ban the two crazies from the premises, and needed names and identifying photos so the guards could deny them entry if they ever showed up at my work.

But. Like. It’s not like I could just ask them their names anymore.

So what can I do?

The obvious option was to do a public records search by looking up their address. I got names… but… I wasn’t entirely 100% totally certain it was really them.

I didn’t know how trustworthy the information on shady-looking public records sites would be, and I didn’t want to accidentally give the police, and eventually the court, the wrong people’s names.

I was especially confused since multiple surnames came up for Loony, and I wasn’t sure if they were different people who happened to have the same first name, or if Loony really did change her surname that many times. (It turned out to be the latter.)

So. To Facebook. I couldn’t find a profile for Toony, but I did find Loony. Good enough, now I could confirm their identities.

That was all I wanted to do. I didn’t care to go through her information, and I certainly didn’t want to contact her. I wanted as little to do with her as possible, which was partly why I waited this long to even find out their names.

I was about to click away when… I noticed something. Right to the top of her profile there were several unhinged posts that were clearly about me.

For starters, she was convinced I was stalking her Facebook, and had been for some time. These posts were deranged rants that were clearly meant to call me out, and included lines like:

“I know you’re reading this, stalker!”

I mean… now I was reading it, but these posts went back weeks, months. What the hell, lady? She thought I cared to see her facebook, but that was the first time I ever looked her up.

She even had one that was taunting me for not getting to have her husband and how she’s a special beautiful wife.

She… just has no grasp on reality at all. Imagine being mercilessly harassed by crazy people over a situation that only ever existed in their head.  

In her posts, she also ranted about how I was calling her from hidden numbers. Anytime she got a call, it was absolutely me. It MUST have been.

I don’t. I don’t think I have to tell you I obviously never called these people. I’m a millennial. I can barely be bothered to call people I actually like. I order pizza through apps just to avoid speaking to a human.

But that’s not all I was accused of. In a more recent post, she insisted that I had some habit of driving slowly past her house with binoculars.

Ummm…

I live next door to her. I drive in this neighborhood because… I live here. But I funny enough, I don’t drive past her house. I don’t need to. My house is on the corner.

And what would I need binoculars for? Their house is only a few yards from the road. Even if I wanted to watch them… I wouldn’t need binoculars for it. And I would think driving at the same time would be pretty difficult.

I don’t think I even own any binoculars.

And what a weird thing to complain about when they are literally the ones watching me. They watch me from their windows, they stand outside in the dark waiting for me to get home from work. And apparently that’s OK.

Lady. Lady. Lady…. lady. Lady. Do you live in your own little world?

I guess she just assumed that since she was so obsessed with me, I must be obsessed with her.

That’s… that’s not how anything works.

I know in an previous video I called out Toony as a viewer,  

(replay joke)

But that was obviously a JOKE. I don’t expect him to ever actually watch this. And I don’t expect he’d have the self-awareness to recognize himself if he did.

But Loony, Loony really thought I had nothing better to do stalk her, or at leas that’s what she was claiming to think on Facebook for whatever relatives of hers that would see it.

I have no idea why she wrote those things. It could be she was just lying for attention, just making it up out of nothing. For what reason, I have no idea.

Or It could be that she was truly delusional, and genuinely believed her own words. It’s possible she was suffering from very real paranoia.

I think the difference between her paranoia and mine is that I actually did have crazy, hostile neighbors.

Whereas Luna had a neighbor who wanted nothing to do with her. I’d be happy to pretend she didn’t exist. If she and Toony ever quit their nonsense, that would be the end of it.

Yet here she was, pretending it was the other way around.

Now. I don’t really care about the unflattering and untrue things she was saying about me on her page. They were absolutely insane, yes, but were not really harassment like standing around in the dark screaming at me when I get home. It’s her page. She can write what she wants. I don’t have to read it.

What I did care about though were the references she kept making in her rants to the day I’d ‘get what was coming to me.’ She said multiple vague threatening sounding things along those lines in a number of her posts about me.

So, yeah… I was right about this pattern of escalation. This nutjob clearly intended to do me harm eventually. As she said herself, it was only a matter of time.

To make matters worse is her Facebook friends and family believed her, and wanted involved. Maybe they’re similarly crazy people, or maybe they were actually decent folks but, since they only had her crazy words to go on, got a very wrong impression of the actual situation.

Either way, this was really concerning when a number of these people left comment son her rants, offering to come ‘deal with me,’ and asking Loony for my information, my name, where I lived.

Ok, so that angry internet strangers at my house metaphor I used earlier had a strong chance of becoming a lot more real than I thought. There were now strangers volunteering to physically come to my home to physically punish me for things the Feckwads were making up.

This is bad. This is real bad.

I didn’t know what to do. I was completely sickened by what I saw. I knew I never wanted look at her page again. I just wanted to close the page and never think of it again.

But… forgetting what I saw wouldn’t make it go away. The danger still existed.

And now it wasn’t just the neighbors I had to worry about. This witch has and an army of flying monkeys to send at me. Any random stranger on the block could have been with Loony and I had no way of knowing.

At this point in my life, I was already dealing with a lot of problems. And I really, really, really did not need this.

I was now alone most of the year, with my boyfriend away at work in another country. I didn’t really have any friends or family nearby. Not much of a social life to speak of. Even at work I was largely isolated. Being a security guard, I was often the only person in the entire building.

My only regular human contact was decidedly negative, which made me withdraw more.

It was like when you burn your hand, you don’t want to reach out again.

And now even had to worry about random strangers at my door.

As I mentioned before, my work schedule was inhuman. I’d work morning, day, and night shift all within the span of a week. Sometimes, these would be 12-hour shifts with only 8-hours off in between. I never had a consistent sleep times.

And when I tried to sleep, I was kept awake by daytime noises, just the unease of being alone, and by having unstable neighbors who liked to sneak around near my house at night.

The work schedule and lack of sleep weren’t great for my grades. I was, of and on, taking classes full time. Or, I was trying to, but concentration was hard. I ended up getting sick and as a result of everything, failed an important class.

My dog got sick, needing medication multiple times per day. Then my cat got sick, and needed emergency surgery. I’d drag myself half asleep to vet appointments, try to find ways to make medication times fit work hours, setting alarms to wake myself up in the few hours I could sleep to give meds, and worried constantly about how I was going to pay for it all.

I spent most of my time indoors. The construction of our homes was very much not in my favor. The way they were designed, the neighbors could easily see from their windows when I was outside. Their bedroom window had a clear view over my fence and into my back yard. And their kitchen widow could see my driveway, so they always knew when I came or left. If they saw me outside, they’d shout from their windows or even come outside to confront me.

But my windows minded their own business. I couldn’t see their property from inside my house they way they could see mine. So I had no way of knowing if they were out there until I was already out my door. I had no way of avoiding them.

So I just. Stayed inside. I was exhausted anyway.

That garden project I wanted to start? Not happening now that my yard isn’t a relaxing place to be anymore.

My dog wants to play, but she’ll have to settle for chasing the ball inside.

The grass is getting long, but I can only manage a section at a time before I’m interrupted.

Eventually, it got hard to find the motivation to do much of anything at all. I hardly even saw the sun anymore.

I’m not saying that the neighbors alone pushed me to seriously google symptoms of depression. They weren’t that powerful, and I wouldn’t want to give them too much credit. I probably would have been feeling generally pretty low anyway.

But they were an extra source of stress that I did not need on top of everything else, and contributed to making my existing troubles worse.

I mush have looked pretty pathetic. I don’t care much for malls, but I dragged myself to one one day, and I wasn’t even sure why. I guess I just wanted to be away from my house. I bought a pair of pants I didn’t need just to justify the trip. This cashier, I didn’t even know her, came around the corner and hugged me. I didn’t tell her anything, but I guess she just knew I needed it.

I should be able to feel safe in my home, but this was stolen from me. I worried about what might come next. Maybe they’d damage my property. Maybe they’d hurt my dogs. Maybe they’d attack me in my driveway or break into my home. Maybe they’d send a stranger after me.

I couldn’t know.

But what I did know, is that I couldn’t live with this. No. I wouldn't live like this. I refused.

Time for a plan.

[jasperwoke]

Noell

Kim stooped to tie her laces. She blocked the subway entrance. A heavy set man in a suit stepped around her, sneering. He didn’t notice Kim’s accomplice swipe his back pocket.

The two emerged from 14th street. Autumn breezes blew through the street, painting New York in a chilly aura. It was late into the afternoon and the two could see students and employees beginning to shuffle home. Soon it’d be rush hour, and the parallel city blocks would become flooded with ironed dress shirts and white sneakers.

“Let’s cop some food this dude had bands” Noell chirped. Kim smiled in agreement.

The two weren’t born sisters but they’ve become closer than family. Noell was two years older than kim, Kim being nineteen and Noell being twenty one. They met at a shelter before they hit their teens. Kim had four siblings, and her mom couldn’t fit that many mouths under a one bedroom apartment. Her mother had a boyfriend at the time that pushed for some side money, but was unemployed. Kim didn’t see her mother when she left. The boyfriend just told her to pack and leave. She didn’t hand in her algebra homework the next morning.

She met Noell two months after she was evicted. Noell had been dealing with an alcoholic father, and when he couldn’t support her anymore, he just shut the door. She had straight braided rows running down her head, and very pretty eyes. She was used to getting looks and compliments from older boys and even men. She held her chin high, even when her father came home drunk. Her mother left when she was a child and her dad took custody. He lived alone with no other female companionship, and with Noell too young to find work, he assigned her a temporary role. Atleast till she got older; he’d find her some other daddies.

Order 141. They both got a full meal, with fries and nuggets and a drink and no mayo. They sat eating, people watching the rest of their afternoon away. Homeless people, uncut gray hairs and oversized jackets with holes and baggy jeans that smelled like piss. Businessmen who buried their heads in their phones or looked into the distance, afraid of making eye contact. Afraid of showing others that they were just average. Couples holding hands or arms wrapped around each other, seeming to prove their worth to their partner, their individuality of millions just like them. Maybe somewhere out there were two other girls, eating burgers from a wallet they stole that afternoon, waiting for a not so cold breeze to blow their way.

It’d be winter soon. That meant a lot of people were slowly stocking up. On groceries, on entertainment, on clothes. American culture spoon feeds the transition to people. Halloween gets parents to buy a lot of candy, pumpkins, and probably some flannel shirts. Thanksgiving is when the culture really goes all out in getting people to stock up on food. On Black Friday, the culture just stops trying to be discreet; literally telling people to buy all you can because it’s another year and winter is cold and wow look at this television damn that is cheap.

But the really rich people, those that make the 10% margin in day trading on wall street, the ones that live upstate or out in Long Island and drive around in bentleys, they don’t stock up. When New York got cold, it was off to Australia. Kim and Noell knew this. That for a good three months, the best neighborhoods in their city was open to public access. The only admission fee was a locked door or nosy neighbor, and a few feet of snow, but it was hardly a hard problem.

When they were still kids, winter was the hardest. All the shelters were full and their boots didn’t keep them warm. Either they lugged around oversized bricks on their feet, or the shoes didn’t have a sole. They’d try subway stations and unused warehouses, taking advantage of the minimal warmth. It was a strange sight, to see two nine or ten year old girls, messy hair tied into the idea of a ponytail. Soot and grime covered faces, hugging each other through harlem winters and bedstuy snows. Staten Island was good because there were a bunch of abandoned children's hospitals. The beds were covered with moldy magazines and spray paint, but a mattress was still preferable to cardboard on concrete.

They started with credit card scheming. A person’s entire life: their social security number, credit card, bank routing, address, telephone, could all be bought for under ten bucks. For the two sisters, that was life. A collection of numbers that were not theirs. They had no father or mother figure to give them an allowance and tell them not to take someone’s identity; everyone on the street was their potential parent for the day. Sometimes they’d get cards with only a few dollars, less than what they paid. Occasionally, they’d get a few cards loaded. Signature credit cards or platinum business with special airline lounge memberships and 5% cashback. Those were the real prizes. Kim and Noell would use those to buy some phones or bags and sell them off later, keeping the solid cash instead of a interchangeable string of digits.

They chose Orange county for winter. Families made six digit figures each year, and houses were spaced a good distance from the next. Perfect for self guided tours. Kim and Noell took the Transit North. Growing up in New York, spending nights on park benches and train stations, they were professionals at stowing away on the daily commutes. It takes about two hours to go from Penn Station to upstate, during which, beautiful red and yellow and brown leaves decorate and paint the wind.

Noell picked up some sleight of hand. She had got into and out of plenty of relationships, travelling to a new borough each night. Different shelters and streets had different men eyeing her, and she knew how to tease them. A few stumbles to her left or maybe some eye contact that didn’t break. It was the small things that took their attention. Her and Kim would work in teams, in parks or subways, on buses or delis. After puberty, Kim had a gorgeous body, and it was only fair their roles changed. She picked up a lot watching Noell for her whole life, and knew how to divert attention. It was a partner crime, and the two were pretty good at the disappearing act.

“This one, over here”

The house was a two family house, standing two stories with an attic and basement. The outside was laid in red brick, but floor to ceiling windows and a flat matte roof suggested a more modern construction or renovation. They went through the garage, that was where people usually forget or don’t care to check up on. The home was empty and free for grabbings. It was all theirs. Until they heard sirens.

Noell’s had a gash running from her left eye to the back of her jawline. It cut just below the ear and bled profusely. Kim held her hand to her mouth, digging her nails so deep that her cheek bled too. She listened from the sink cabinet as the officers slammed Noell’s face into the wall. Her cries and sobs and eventually silence as they touched her up and down before cuffing her and throwing her into the car. She crouched silently and waited, with tears streaming down her face, stinging her self inflicted wound, as the officers drove off with Noell. With Kim’s only family. They met twelve years ago, and took the subway together. They stole together and laughed together. They went to public pools together in the summer, and played with dogs at the park together. They read at the library together and slept together. On the trip back from Orange county upstate New York, Kim only had one ticket stub.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 8: Bridge Bricks and Babysitting

Becoming The Mask

The Museum of Arcadia was very different during its hours of operation. Much more brightly lit. Much less filled with the uneasy feeling he might run into Bular at any moment.

Jim veered away from his scattering classmates to loiter near their history teacher and the museum curator.

Eli was peppering Ms Nomura with questions and Mr Strickler was watching with poorly-concealed amusement as she indulged the boy's curiosity about Renaissance-era pottery. After a few minutes she sent Eli off to the exhibit in question and fixed Jim with a piercing stare.

Jim flashed his eyes and Nomura's shoulders relaxed, though her expression remained sharp. She flashed her eyes back at him. They were green in both her human and troll forms, but when she was in human form they lit up gold and red like every other Changeling's.

"At least one of them was actually interested in the lesson plan this year," Ms Nomura said to Mr Strickler. "So few of your students actually appreciate the history of ceramics and how they influenced the build-up to the Industrial Revolution."

They casually walked through a partially roped-off doorway and disappeared behind a hanging tarp. Jim glanced around to ensure no witnesses – all his classmates were elsewhere or actually focused on the displays – and followed the other two Changelings.

"It's more than halfway done?" he gasped in amazement.

Killahead Bridge was mostly under sheets, but the shape was distinct, as was the gap where they hadn't yet finished building the arched form.

"Hidden in plain sight as an upcoming exhibit," Stricklander boasted. Nomura rolled her eyes at his pomposity. Jim sat on one of the wooden crates and started toying with the stones and bricks in the open crate beside him.

"I anticipate full construction within three months, if the latest rumours lead to the final stones," said Nomura to Stricklander. "But just in case they don't … In the interests of growing Gunmar's legion, we're bringing in someone new." Nomura glanced sideways at Jim. The most recently-planted Changeling sat up with an attentive expression. "Any suggestions for their cover?"

Damn Toby for not being young enough to send to safety.

"What about the Nuñez baby?" Jim suggested. The question had been directed at Stricklander, but Jim wasn't sure Claire Nuñez gushed about her little brother to the teachers the way she did to her peers. He rolled a rounded stone thoughtfully over his palm. "Mrs Nuñez is involved in local politics, right? Might be useful to have an eye on the inside."

"It's a good thought," Stricklander agreed. "Now, Jim, Ms Nomura and I have more classified information to discuss. You'd best rejoin your class."

To some Changelings, that would be practically an invitation to spy. Jim tossed two of the three rocks he'd been toying with back into their crate and slipped the third, smallest one up his sleeve as he gave Mr Strickler a casual salute with his other arm.

I'm not ready. I need time; to think; to plan. We can't finish the Bridge yet. I haven't convinced anyone that Mom needs to stay alive.

It was selfish and petty and treasonous and he was being ridiculously foolish and he knew it. Gunmar would not reward the loyalty of a Changeling who delayed his escape.

But Gunmar didn't need to know. No one needed to know.

Jim would sneak the piece back into place once he had a guarantee of Barbara's safety. It should only take a short while longer to wrangle Stricklander into it. Otto might not even be back in the States until afterwards, with or without the Eyestone. Stealing a piece of Killahead was just a momentary fit of harmless foolishness for Jim's peace of mind. He'd give it back.

He slipped it from his sleeve into his pocket.

That night, in Trollmarket, he hid it behind one of the many bookcases in Blinky's library.

"Claire, I'm sorry, I can't babysit tonight."

"But you promised! Mom and Dad have that charity thing, and I have a Papa Skull concert – Papa Skull! I, like, live in their t-shirt!"

"Sorry, C-Bomb, but Dean finally asked me to a movie – and then Hank invited me out for ice cream. Tight Jeans Hank! Love can't choose, Claire!"

"But Mary, I need you!"

"I can babysit," Jim offered. Both girls jumped, having not noticed Jim and Toby listening in on their drama. Toby gave Jim a surprised look. Jim and Claire had worked on class projects together once or twice, but they didn't exactly know each other well.

"You can?" asked Claire excitedly. "Wait, have you ever babysat before?"

"Uh, yeah," Jim lied, and then added, truthfully, "Plus, my mom's a doctor, so I know infant CPR and everything."

"You're a lifesaver, Jim! Come to my house around seven? No sooner."

"Got it."

"I wrote his routine on the fridge – after playtime you can just put him down. He's a good sleeper. And he'd rather play with his food than eat it. He loves games. Peekaboo, hide and seek. What am I forgetting?"

"We'll be fine," Jim promised Claire. Enrique burbled delightedly and bounced in his swing.

"Here's the emergency contact numbers." She pressed a paper into Jim's hand. "Whatever you do, do not call my parents first."

"Because they don't know you're going to the concert, do they?" he teased.

"They'll be back late-late, and I should only be a couple hours. Three max. Um, help yourself to anything in the fridge … and if you eat babies, now is the time to tell me."

He forced a laugh and shook his head and tried not to think of Bular.

There was a honk from outside, presumably her ride.

"Hey – thanks for this." Claire smiled shyly and sweetly at Jim. "You're my hero."

"Have fun," he told her. Once she was gone, he lit his eyes red and gold. "So, Enrique, how's it going?"

The baby changed into a small green troll. It took a while for human vocal chords to develop enough for speech. "Fine enough. Pretty cushy assignment, even if I can't eat the cat."

"I brought some old argyle socks," Jim offered.

"Oooh, gimmie-gimmie!"

The smaller Changeling unbuckled himself from the swing while the bigger Changeling got the bag of socks from his backpack. They settled onto the couch. Jim switched forms as well. The couch felt strong enough to hold him.

"Yummy," Enrique mumbled with his mouth full. He'd bitten right into the zip-locked plastic bag like it was a calzone.

"Enjoy them while you can. After a few years in human guise, they start to lose appeal." Jim crinkled his nose. Even in his trollish form, he hadn't eaten cloth in years. At least plastic, glass, and metal still tasted good.

"Bossman send you to check up on me?"

"Nah. I just had a free evening." He scratched idly at the stub of his horn. "Plus I wanted to know how things have been on the other side, and you've got the latest news."

"Eh, what's to say? Still dark, gloomy, boring. Nobody knows how to have fun."

"What are the numbers looking like? There were thirty when I left, counting you."

"Down to twenty-three now."

Six Changelings lost was not an ominous death count for a fifteen-year period, Jim reminded himself, willing himself to keep breathing evenly. That averaged out to one death every two and a half years. They sometimes went decades without a death only to lose several in the same week.

"Hey, funny story," Enrique continued. "Somebody from this side's been sending blankets and candy and stuff through the Fetch once in a while."

Good; the Changelings left behind had been finding Jim's 'care packages'. He kept his expression mildly curious.

"They send books sometimes, and Dictatious hoards them if he finds them first." Gunmar's advisor was notoriously selfish with reading material. "But here's where it gets good. I've got some of those same books in the nursery here. They're stories for fleshbag kids! And he's been puzzling over the 'code' they're written in!"

Jim cackled at the mental image of Dictatious trying to 'decode' Dr Seuss or Robert Munsch.

His options for what to send had been limited to his own old things until a couple of years ago. Maybe he should print out the photographed pages of A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore and send that through, in case he needed Dictatious to do him a favour at some point. On the other hand, his 'care packages' were sent anonymously, and this was comedy gold.

"Hi, Mr and Mrs Nuñez!" Jim, sitting on their living room couch, plastered an I'm-trying-to-look-innocent-but-know-I'm-in-trouble grin on his once more human face. "I'm Jim; Claire and I go to school together. She –" was sneaking in behind them. "She's just in the bathroom. We were doing homework together, and Enrique started fussing, so we took a break to play with him."

They still looked suspicious, but now it was 'a strange boy was alone with our daughter' suspicious rather than 'we found a stranger in our house holding our baby' suspicious. Claire gave him a grateful look and ducked behind a door, closing it quietly and opening it loudly.

"Mom, Dad, hey!" She gave them the same nervous smile. "I, ah, see you met Jim."

"I should get going." He handed Enrique to Claire and grabbed his backpack from the coffee table. "I'll see you at school, Claire. Gracias for your help with the Spanish review. Let me know if you have more History questions."

"Bye, Jim!"

Jim ducked past her parents and bolted like – well, like a teenage boy who had just been caught in a teenage girl's home by her presumably-protective guardians while she was supposed to be home alone.

Damn it, his cover did not need this. He'd hardly ever get to compare notes with Enrique now.

Claire approached him at school the next day.

"Hey. Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I would've called to warn you they were headed back early but my phone died just after Papi texted me. But you were great. That was some pretty quick thinking. I owe you."

"Hey, no hard feelings. Did they buy it?"

"Mm. Sort of." She readjusted her backpack. "I'm still in trouble for having a boy over, but at least they think I was there the whole time. You might've even convinced them we really were studying. You should've tried out for the play."

"Ah … no, I'd never have found the time. Last night was … I've usually got a lot going on. But if you need a babysitter again, I could make time. Enrique wasn't too demanding; I really did get homework done."

Claire kissed his cheek. Jim was not sure how to react to that.

"Or maybe we could have a real study date sometime," she said.

He stared blankly after her as she walked away. Toby elbowed him in the gut and said something congratulatory.

Jim felt awkward and a little gross. Claire didn't know how much older than her he was, but he did, and her kissing him felt … not okay.

It was an innocent and unsolicited gesture indicating affection not necessarily of a romantic nature, he decided. As long as he didn't say or do anything to suggest he was flirting back, Claire flirting with him was no more inappropriate than Toby's crush on Dr Lake. And that was assuming she even had meant it flirtatiously. Platonic kisses and study dates were a thing.

Previous Chapter (Jim expresses affection through food and protective oaths)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Toby gets suspicious of Jim’s recent behaviour)

This was originally imagined as two chapters, 'Grand Theft Bridge Piece' and 'Grand Theft Baby'. But I couldn't stretch the theft of the Bridge piece out; it was more plausible for it to be an impulse decision on Jim's part, rather than having him sneak into the museum later for premeditated treason. 

As for Enrique, there would be too much risk of being caught if Jim were directly involved in stealing and swapping him, rather than letting the goblins handle it as they do in canon, so the Changelings wouldn't have sent Jim along on that mission. If he were already scheduled to babysit, they might have planned the swap to take place that night, but Jim babysitting was a very last-minute substitution on Claire's part which the Janus Order couldn't have planned for.

I hope Not Enrique being referred to as Enrique didn't confuse anyone. From Jim's perspective, they're both Enrique, because Changelings assume their Familiars' names. Not Enrique won't actually be called Not Enrique until non-Changeling characters find out that he's a Changeling.

Jim actually has no objection to troll-human romance. But he is an actual adult, if a young one (the troll equivalent of being in his early-to-mid twenties), so having an adolescent flirt with him is uncomfortable. If they were in college instead of high school, the ‘age difference’ would not be an issue. (Instead the main issue would be that he’s more attracted to trolls than humans, which, like his relative age, hasn’t come up in-story yet.) Jim’s relationship with Claire in this AU will ultimately be a platonic friendship ... assuming she ever forgives him after she finds out he had her brother kidnapped.

[cecilspeaks]

122 - A Story of Love and Horror, part 2: “Spire”

Do you hear that sweet melody? That sweet melody on the breeze? No one else hears that sweet melody, That sweet melody on the breeze.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Frances did her best to pretend that she had imagined what she had seen that night in the house of Nazr al-Mujaheed. When Barks Ennui, the cartoon spokesdog for the Sheriff’s Secret Police, had come out of the television and told her that she does not belong, and that they were both doomed. This obviously wasn’t an easy thing to forget, but people forget difficult things every day. We are all of us carrying around difficult things like cannon balls rolling, unstable in our heads, occasionally throwing us off balance when they shift too much to one side. But mostly, just slowing us down while we pretend nothing is wrong.

She and Nazr continued to see each other. He let people know at school, and the faculty and administration were happy for him. Everyone felt that he was always too consumed by high school football. Especially Principal Fryman, who grumbled to himself that the team didn’t even have a good record to show for all of that obsession.

Nazr took Frances to a faculty after school drinks meet-up, the first one he had ever gone to, because he always spent his evenings prepping for that week’s practice, studying game film, drawing up defensive schemes, and slithering around his living room on his belly while hissing like a snake.

Frances, in turn, took him to her monthly book club meet-up. This month’s book had been Irvine Welsh’s “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child”, the controversial follow-up to his classic novel “Trainspotting”. Everyone agreed that it wasn’t nearly as good as the original, since it only shared a couple of the main characters. They also agreed that Frances’ relationship was having a real effect on her. “You hardly seem like the same person,” said Jeremy, who had liked Frances before and was jealous that she might change and grow as a person, outside of his influence. Jeremy was, all in all, being a real shit.

Everyone else agreed that she seemed to be happier and more open to the world than before she had started dating. Frances quietly wondered if changing so quickly, just because you were eating meals with and sometimes sleeping with someone, was a good or bad or neutral thing. She thought that change was hardly ever neutral.

Through all of this, she pretended that Barks Ennui, the cartoon dog, did not appear to her most evenings in her home. But he did. He would crawl out of her television, even if she was watching a channel his commercials didn’t play on, or even if the television was off. The proportions of his body, lovably clumsy interview wo dimensions, seemed a horrifying mistake of nature in three dimensions. And his features were warped and blurred, as though seen through static.

“You don’t belong together,” Barks Ennui said in a goofy cartoon voice that occasionally veered dizzyingly into other pitches. Sometimes a child’s giggle, or a bassy growl for a few seconds before sliding back to the middle. She would hide under her covers, and she would hear from within the hot dark of her blanket, his familiar cartoon voice say: “There is a price that must be payed!” And she would scream and scream and then realize she was alone. And then she would choose to pretend that none of this had happened.

Nazr did not see Barks Ennui. But he was not without his own troubles. He would find, some evenings, that when he looked in the mirror, there were two of him. One of him sitting behind the other. He would stand and the second reflection would stand too. It would follow all of his movements from behind is primary reflection. This went on for days. Then one night, he looked in the mirror and there was only one of him. He sighed, feeling some relief to the tension that had been with him so long as to become his new normal. And that is when, in the mirror, his second reflection into the room, followed by Frances Donaldson.

Nazr whirled. The room he was in was empty. He looked back in the mirror. There was his own face, terrified, and behind that on the bed, there was himself again with Frances. The two of them were kissing passionately. He watched himself kiss, and then his reflection and the Frances in the mirror stopped watching and looked up at him with startled faces. They stayed frozen that way, and he stayed frozen too. After several moments, the mirror couple smiled. Their smiles got wider and wider, and then they were both dead, blood covered and sprawling at irregular angles. And then – they were alive again and smiling at him.

He shouted and stumbled back form the mirror. From them on, he too to covering his mirrors, and that worked for a few days. But then one day, he came home to find himself in his bedroom, already sitting in front of the covered bedroom mirror. The him that was in his bedroom looked up at him who had just entered, with wide eyes and a yawning mouth and Nazr, who believed himself to be the real Nazr, turned and walked out of his house. He checked into a motel and decided to stay there for a while.

Finally the strain broke on Nazr and Frances. At Applebee’s over lunch, she started crying, and he was so surprised that he started crying. And they were crying at each other and didn’t know why the other was crying. And she said, “This is going to sound crazy”, and he said, “You’re not going to believe me.” And then they told each other, and it didn’t sound crazy, and she believed him.

“What does it mean?” she said. “Why are we being punished just because we’re finally seeing someone?” “That’s a good question,” said Barks Ennui. He was sitting in the booth next to them. They both yelled in surprise, and the other people in the restaurant looked over with a mix of confusion and annoyance. None of them could see Barks, and so they assumed the couple must have accidentally ordered the electrolysis nachos appetizer.

“Who are you?” asked Nazr. “Me?” said Barks, his animation dog face stretching and compressing in mesmerizingly horrifying ways. “I’m a construct!” he said, “in order to allow communication”. “Communication with who?” said Frances. “I represent the Brown Stone Spire,” said Barks. The Brown Stone Spire was a strange monument at the edge of town. It offered great gifts in exchange for even greater sacrifices. It was extremely dangerous, and neither of them had ever heard of it trying to communicate with anyone. Barks continued: “Everything’s gone strange since you started dating. You know what I’m talking about?” “Maybe,” Nazr said, thinking of the mirrors in his home. “Maybe?” repeated Barks mildly. “Maybe it will get even stranger. Maybe your conditions will continue to deteriorate.” “What do you mean deteriorate?” she said. “We’re two people dating, what’s wrong with that?” “This town is a point where many universes meet,” said Barks. He was on the other side of the table, next to Frances now. “Recently those universes collapse into each other. When the mess was finally sorted out, not everyone ended up in the right universe.” “It’s me,” said Nazr, “That explains it. The other me in my house, plus my tongue is like two feet long and that doesn’t seem right. I don’t belong in this universe.” “No,” said Barks. “It’s Frances. She doesn’t belong here. Frances, you switched places during the collapse with the Frances of this world, and you are coming into contact with a person from a different universe, which has an exceptionally detrimental effect on reality. I believe,” he said to Nazr, “you were saying something about reflections in your house?”

And now, a look at traffic.

The cosmology of the universe is thus. First, there is the sphere. The indications of the sphere are warmth and bristle. The colors of the sphere are blue and yellow. Then, there is the cube. The indications of the cube are touch and lift. The colors of the cube are red and white. Then, there is the expansive plane. The indications of the expansive plane are speed and shadow. The colors of the expansive plane are myriad. And finally, there is the outward fade. The indications of the outward fade are a ringing bell and a rush of water. The colors of the outward fade are none. This has been traffic.

And now a word from our sponsors. Mute children perched atop strange formations on desert plateaus. Our eyes gaze toward a horizon that will never change. There is no movement here, no sun, but there is light. No darkness, but there is night. We do not need to eat, but we are hungry. We have no way to drink, but we are thirsty. We have nothing to sell you. Remember us. This has been a word from our sponsors.

Frances couldn’t believe it. or she could, but she resolutely chose not to. Nazr thought again and again of the other him and the other her, lying dead on his bed and then smiling. And then dead again. It was true that something was horribly wrong. Perhaps they didn’t belong together. Perhaps they didn’t belong together so much that the universe itself was collapsing around the relationship.

It wasn’t fair. Didn’t both of them deserve happiness?

Cecil here. I’ll go ahead and answer that. They did! But what a person receives and what they deserve is only ever tangentially and coincidentally related.

They decided they should go to the Brown Stone Spire. It had offered to help them. They should at least hear out what it was asking for in return.

Nazr drove them. Cars stop working within a few hundred feet of the spire, as the spire prefers humans to approach on foot. Actually, it prefers humans to approach on their bellies, but it takes humble walking as a compromise. The closest parking lot is the Radio Shack, but of course that one is always full of customers, and so they parked at the Wendy’s and walked.

Her foot started bothering her, but she didn’t know if it was actually bothering her or if she was just afraid of what the Brown Stone Spire would say.

The Brown Stone Spire hummed. They fell to their knees before it. “Help us!” said Nazr. “We just want to be together,” Frances said. “I don’t know if we belong together, but we make each other happy. Isn’t that something worthwhile? Don’t we get at least that?” The Brown Stone Spire heard. It hummed. It already knew the problem and it already knew the solution. And it already knew the price. It told these humans all three by implanting the thoughts directly in their brains.

Frances threw up. Nazr wept. There was a solution, but the price was unthinkable. It was impossible, it was inhuman. Of course, the Spire isn’t human nor possible nor even thinkable.

They walked back to the car in silence. And now, The weather.

[“Fire Drills” by Dessa]

That evening, they sat in Frances Donaldson’s living room and thought about what to do. “Impossible,” she said. “Unthinkable,” he said. “Then we agree?” she said. “Of course we agree,” he said. “What else is there?” he said. “We’re not monsters,” he said. “Right,” she said. “I want to show you something,” said Barks Ennui. He was on the TV screen so close that whatever backdrop was invisible, just his exaggerated snout and his wild eyes. “Come here!” Both of them knew for certain they would refuse, and both stepped forward obediently. “In here!” said Barks. “Into the TV!” Frances put her hand on the screen and felt nothing. It was a hollow frame. She put her hand through the frame. Her hand felt like her hand, no different than it had a moment before. She leaned down and put her torso in, and she felt a pull, like gravity. And she fell downwards through the TV screen.

She was in her living room again. It looked very much like her living room, although a few details were different. The framed poster from the International Musée (du Chats) [0:19:33] in Paris was now from the Museo Internacional (de los Gatos) in Mexico City. The taxidermy deer foot penholder on the mantle was now a taxidermy boar’s foot penholder.

Nazr tumbled in next to her. “Oh, cool penholder,” he said. Frances took his hand and helped him up. They looked around, and then out the front window. Frances was outside working in a garden. A different Frances, in the garden being watched by the first Frances in the living room. “The Frances from your universe, Nazr,” said Barks. His three-dimensional form was enormous this time, taking up the living room from floor to ceiling, although he displaced nothing in it, and Frances and Nazr had plenty of room to stand. “She ended up in this universe and the Frances from this universe, that’s you Frances, ended up in hers, a silly mix-up. But these things do need to be set right, or else both of you will slip further and further into the gap between universes, until neither of you exist anymore!”

Frances couldn’t take her eyes off herself in the garden. “Try to stay together,” said Barks, “and you both will cease to exist!” The Frances in the garden waved to Jackie Fierro, who was biking past. A car drove by. In it was Dana Cardinal and her brother. They waved, too. “Enough!” said Barks, grabbing them and pulling them upward. They were all back in the couch in Frances’ living room, or the living room she had thought was hers. There was only one Frances here. “You know the price,” said Barks. He crawled backwards into the TV, staring intently with his droopy animated eyes. “There are only two ways forward. The first is that this Frances returns to her correct universe, and you two never see each other again. The other would allow the two of you to live as long and as happy as anyone can together. It would be simple, but in order for that to happen, the Spire will destroy the other universe and every person who lives within it. That Frances and every other person in that world will cease to exist, but then you would be able to flourish in this universe.”

He was fully back onto the screen, a two-dimensional cartoon dog in a none yellow cartoon backdrop. But his eyes were still huge, like they were inches away. “You don’t have long to decide!” He gave a silly laugh, the kind he did at the end of his appearance on children’s shows. The laugh that made children laugh back at how silly it was. But this silly laugh did not end. For several minutes, Nazr and Frances stared at him, and he looked back, laughing.

Stay tuned next for decision to be made.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: I’m going to give you a piece of my mind. It’s in this clay jar. Please keep it in a cool, dark place and away from cats.

[chicagocityfclanspromoblog]

Mary Lang → Zendaya → Rat

→ Basic Information

Age: 39

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: September 24th

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Religion: Deism

→ Her Personality Mary has a bright personality and brighter wardrobe. She has outstanding people skills and is considered warm-hearted by many of her packmates. She does have a creative side too. She’s always rocking new hairstyles, clothing, and accessories. Mary is a risk-taker when it comes to work, relationships and more. She also has a reckless side and has learned to bounce back from failures and defeat because of it. Her bold personality keeps everyone on their toes. Mary does not seek attention, she enjoys taking care of herself and does it for herself.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Full Time Head of POOH

Scars: None

Tattoos: Up To Player

Two Likes: Different/New Hairstyles and Oreo Milkshakes

Two Dislikes: Red Meat and Snobs

Two Fears: Conflict and Submission

Two Hobbies: Beauty and Yoga

Three Positive Traits: Independent, Original and Open-Minded

Three Negative Traits: Distractible, Extravagant, and Rash

→ His/Her Connections

Parent Names:

Doria Lang (Mother): Doria was a strong single parent. She placed Mary first and above herself. Doria taught Mary to be independent, decisive and strong-headed. Doria’s illness was hard on Mary and bringing her somewhere that would put her out of her pain was even harder. She keeps the lessons that her mother taught her close to her, and has allowed herself to heal.

Ben Ehrlich (Possible Father): Ben was one of the three men who could have been her father, and according to the other two, probably was. The two became close quickly, and Ben taught her a lot about pack life. He was killed by vampires about a year into Mary’s stay. After that she, Ray, and Jim agreed it was better not knowing who her biological dad was.

Ray Hamelin (Possible Father): Ray was one of the three men who could have possibly been her father according to her mother. Neither he, Ben, nor Jim wanted to take a paternity test, out of fear they were the father. Ray was the one who put Doria down. The night it happened, he’d found Mary packed up and ready to leave in the dark. He convinced her to stay and petitioned with Nick to train her.

Jim Montgomery (Possible Father): Jim was one of the three men who could have possibly been her father according to her mother. Neither he nor Ray wanted to take a paternity test, out of fear they were the father. It took him the longest to warm up to her, but he was there by her side the whole night after Ben died. He always saw Doria’s strength in her and was the first to nominate Mary for the Head of POOH position.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Conrad Kale (Dating): Conrad had always caught Mary’s eye, until she learned he’d just turned 18 the week before she’d arrived. She could tell he had a crush on her, but thought he was too young and immature. Her views began changing when she saw him take on the responsibilities of Third and Head of RED after Ben’s death. He took everything in stride, and in the midst of it all even tried to make sure she was okay. From there they’ve built a foundation of respect and friendship. Only recently have they decided they should take it further and begin dating .

Platonic Connections:

Kris Jayweed (Friend): Kris has been one of the few RED members she’s convinced to go to Yoga with her. She knows how stressed he is and wants him to relax.

Max Vanes (Friend): Max and Jo took her out on the town a few days after her mom passed. They helped her get dressed up, did her hair, and overall just kind of helped her feel like herself again. She’s been incredibly close with both of them after that.

Maya Morris (Good Friend): Maya is like the little sister she never had. She’s been able to kind of guide her out of mistakes she’s made and teach her most of the hair and fashion things she learned from her own mother.

Isla Johns (Best Friend): During Mary’s extremely extended stay on NERVOUS she became close to their Third, Isla. The two girls bonded over growing up out West and doing daily yoga. Now that Isla has taken over as Editor in Chief and Mary is head of POOH, they don’t see each other as often, but they make it a habit to get dinner twice a month.

Alison Nguyen (College Best Friend): Mary doesn’t get to see Alison much, but she has flown in to Chicago twice to come visit her. She keeps teasing that she’ll have to take a job at a consulate in Chicago so she can see Mary more.

Alan Thomas (Construction Contact): Mary pays Alan to leave openings in repairs he does on Clara’s house and the Fields Hotel. These small holes make it easier for POOH to find new ways into the house when Clara closes up the old ones.

Hostile Connections:

Tim Boaz (Ex-Friend): Tim stole information for a story from Mary when she was transitioning into POOH. He was completely unrepentant for it and Mary cut him out of her life completely.

Lee Boaz (Ex-Friend): Lee lied for Tim, and gaslighted Mary when she was trying to figure out what had happened. She also cut him out of her life completely.

Pets:

None

→ History Mary grew just outside of Vegas with just her mother. Unlike most rats, Doria Lang decided to raise her daughter “off the grid” of the supernatural world, so to speak. She was taught how to shift, and basic things like what type of species there were, but outside of that Mary was raised as much of a human as possible. Doria didn’t want to draw any attention to them from the Vegas pack, and she didn’t want to run into anyone from her old pack. It was Doria and Mary against the world, which was just fine with her. Mary went to a normal high school, had human friends, and finished it off by going to the University of Nevada Reno to study International Affairs. When she’d finished her degree, she began noticing how much her mother had begun to forget things. Whether it was leaving things on the stove, or forgetting that they’d talked about something earlier in the day. When she brought it up to her mother, she denied that she knew what she was talking about. Mary started researching rat shaper shifters, and found a forum full of people. There she began getting some rudimentary knowledge that her mother had never mentioned. She confronted her again and this time Doria agreed with her. Mary watched her mother begin to deteriorate in front of her, all the while her mother tried making a plan for the day when she couldn’t make one anymore. About 6 months later they had reached that point, and Mary packed up everything she could, Doria and herself into her Honda CRV and started off for Chicago.

When they finally arrived Mary was shocked at the number of supernaturals that existed in one place, and even more shocked when she found out the reason her mom had left. Doria apparently had a Mamma Mia moment and wasn’t sure which of three men was her dad so she split. Mary had to explain why they were there. Doria had asked to speak with them all alone after that and when they’d come out of the room it was agreed upon that her mom needed to be put down. It felt like it all had moved so fast. She spent an hour saying goodbye to her mother before Nick and Ray lead her away. That night she tried leaving, thinking that anywhere would be better to be than here, but Ray (Dad Possibility 1) was there sitting on the hood of her car. He convinced her to stay for a while, and check out the pack her mother was a part of for so long. Ben (Dad Possibility 2) started taking her around in her rat form, something she’d never done when she was younger, to visit the different sites of the city. After a few months, even Jim (Dad Possibility 3) had wandered up from wherever he always was and started teaching her about the different packs and teams. But the idea of who her real dad was kept bugging her. Mary asked all three of them to take a test, but they all either said no (Jim) or dodged the question (Ray and Ben). It went like this for months, her always asking, them always giving her a reason why not. Regardless of her father’s situation, she slowly felt the community shift to open up to her. Jo and Max would take her out, Conrad seemed bound and determined to make her laugh, and she started showing Maya how she did her hair. Mary more or less found a community in Chicago that at least partially eased the ache of losing her mom.

Ray and Ben signed her up for NERVOUS to help her grow as a rat and create a future career for her. She worked hard to push herself, but still remained on NERVOUS for 5 years, longer than almost any other rat. Eventually she was able to join POOH, and in 3 years made Head with the help of her three possible dads. About a year ago, Ben and about 200 other rats were killed in the Underground. Mary was devastated and everyone was in shock, Ben had been a part of the pack for a long time and was a staple in it. She realized that she couldn’t handle going through another loss of a parent and told Ray and Jim it didn’t matter who her actual biological dad was.

→ The Present Mary is investigating Clara’s frequent and consistent trips to the Underground. POOH is able to track her and other high ranking Heavy members to a secret entrance, but are stuck on the surface. They’ve tried looking in other places for the information, and have come up empty handed. Recently she has decided to join forces with RED. The two together could possibly get to the bottom of what’s happening, however Conrad won’t let her, or any other members of POOH,  join his crew Underground. He believes that inviting untrained members is too dangerous to his own operations, especially since they’d be following the heavies into the private chambers where the vampires are known to be their most hostile. This combined effort between the two of them is what finally started their relationship, but Mary is trying to keep their personal and work lives separated.

Mary is tired of everyone messing with POOH and pissing Clara off, ultimately causing more danger and trouble for her own team. Clara is the most entertaining alpha to annoy and various rats, often on SKIN or BOND, will come to annoy her in their free time. She’s brought it up to Conrad, Nick, and Jo, but it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon, and each time Clara loses it a bit more. Clara’s threatened exterminators soon, and while that doesn’t seem to both Nick, she’s not putting her people at risk.

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Zendaya (Mary Lang) [1][2]

[chicagocityofclans]

Mary Lang → Zendaya → Rat

→ Basic Information

Age: 39

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: September 24th

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Religion: Deism

→ Her Personality Mary has a bright personality and brighter wardrobe. She has outstanding people skills and is considered warm-hearted by many of her packmates. She does have a creative side too. She’s always rocking new hairstyles, clothing, and accessories. Mary is a risk-taker when it comes to work, relationships and more. She also has a reckless side and has learned to bounce back from failures and defeat because of it. Her bold personality keeps everyone on their toes. Mary does not seek attention, she enjoys taking care of herself and does it for herself.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Full Time Head of POOH

Scars: None

Tattoos: Up To Player

Two Likes: Different/New Hairstyles and Oreo Milkshakes

Two Dislikes: Red Meat and Snobs

Two Fears: Conflict and Submission

Two Hobbies: Beauty and Yoga

Three Positive Traits: Independent, Original and Open-Minded

Three Negative Traits: Distractible, Extravagant, and Rash

→ His/Her Connections

Parent Names:

Doria Lang (Mother): Doria was a strong single parent. She placed Mary first and above herself. Doria taught Mary to be independent, decisive and strong-headed. Doria’s illness was hard on Mary and bringing her somewhere that would put her out of her pain was even harder. She keeps the lessons that her mother taught her close to her, and has allowed herself to heal.

Ben Ehrlich (Possible Father): Ben was one of the three men who could have been her father, and according to the other two, probably was. The two became close quickly, and Ben taught her a lot about pack life. He was killed by vampires about a year into Mary’s stay. After that she, Ray, and Jim agreed it was better not knowing who her biological dad was.

Ray Hamelin (Possible Father): Ray was one of the three men who could have possibly been her father according to her mother. Neither he, Ben, nor Jim wanted to take a paternity test, out of fear they were the father. Ray was the one who put Doria down. The night it happened, he’d found Mary packed up and ready to leave in the dark. He convinced her to stay and petitioned with Nick to train her.

Jim Montgomery (Possible Father): Jim was one of the three men who could have possibly been her father according to her mother. Neither he nor Ray wanted to take a paternity test, out of fear they were the father. It took him the longest to warm up to her, but he was there by her side the whole night after Ben died. He always saw Doria’s strength in her and was the first to nominate Mary for the Head of POOH position.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Conrad Kale (Dating): Conrad had always caught Mary’s eye, until she learned he’d just turned 18 the week before she’d arrived. She could tell he had a crush on her, but thought he was too young and immature. Her views began changing when she saw him take on the responsibilities of Third and Head of RED after Ben’s death. He took everything in stride, and in the midst of it all even tried to make sure she was okay. From there they’ve built a foundation of respect and friendship. Only recently have they decided they should take it further and begin dating .

Platonic Connections:

Kris Jayweed (Friend): Kris has been one of the few RED members she’s convinced to go to Yoga with her. She knows how stressed he is and wants him to relax.

Max Vanes (Friend): Max and Jo took her out on the town a few days after her mom passed. They helped her get dressed up, did her hair, and overall just kind of helped her feel like herself again. She’s been incredibly close with both of them after that.

Maya Morris (Good Friend): Maya is like the little sister she never had. She’s been able to kind of guide her out of mistakes she’s made and teach her most of the hair and fashion things she learned from her own mother.

Isla Johns (Best Friend): During Mary’s extremely extended stay on NERVOUS she became close to their Third, Isla. The two girls bonded over growing up out West and doing daily yoga. Now that Isla has taken over as Editor in Chief and Mary is head of POOH, they don’t see each other as often, but they make it a habit to get dinner twice a month.

Alison Nguyen (College Best Friend): Mary doesn’t get to see Alison much, but she has flown in to Chicago twice to come visit her. She keeps teasing that she’ll have to take a job at a consulate in Chicago so she can see Mary more.

Alan Thomas (Construction Contact): Mary pays Alan to leave openings in repairs he does on Clara’s house and the Fields Hotel. These small holes make it easier for POOH to find new ways into the house when Clara closes up the old ones.

Hostile Connections:

Tim Boaz (Ex-Friend): Tim stole information for a story from Mary when she was transitioning into POOH. He was completely unrepentant for it and Mary cut him out of her life completely.

Lee Boaz (Ex-Friend): Lee lied for Tim, and gaslighted Mary when she was trying to figure out what had happened. She also cut him out of her life completely.

Pets:

None

→ History Mary grew just outside of Vegas with just her mother. Unlike most rats, Doria Lang decided to raise her daughter “off the grid” of the supernatural world, so to speak. She was taught how to shift, and basic things like what type of species there were, but outside of that Mary was raised as much of a human as possible. Doria didn’t want to draw any attention to them from the Vegas pack, and she didn’t want to run into anyone from her old pack. It was Doria and Mary against the world, which was just fine with her. Mary went to a normal high school, had human friends, and finished it off by going to the University of Nevada Reno to study International Affairs. When she’d finished her degree, she began noticing how much her mother had begun to forget things. Whether it was leaving things on the stove, or forgetting that they’d talked about something earlier in the day. When she brought it up to her mother, she denied that she knew what she was talking about. Mary started researching rat shaper shifters, and found a forum full of people. There she began getting some rudimentary knowledge that her mother had never mentioned. She confronted her again and this time Doria agreed with her. Mary watched her mother begin to deteriorate in front of her, all the while her mother tried making a plan for the day when she couldn’t make one anymore. About 6 months later they had reached that point, and Mary packed up everything she could, Doria and herself into her Honda CRV and started off for Chicago.

When they finally arrived Mary was shocked at the number of supernaturals that existed in one place, and even more shocked when she found out the reason her mom had left. Doria apparently had a Mamma Mia moment and wasn’t sure which of three men was her dad so she split. Mary had to explain why they were there. Doria had asked to speak with them all alone after that and when they’d come out of the room it was agreed upon that her mom needed to be put down. It felt like it all had moved so fast. She spent an hour saying goodbye to her mother before Nick and Ray lead her away. That night she tried leaving, thinking that anywhere would be better to be than here, but Ray (Dad Possibility 1) was there sitting on the hood of her car. He convinced her to stay for a while, and check out the pack her mother was a part of for so long. Ben (Dad Possibility 2) started taking her around in her rat form, something she’d never done when she was younger, to visit the different sites of the city. After a few months, even Jim (Dad Possibility 3) had wandered up from wherever he always was and started teaching her about the different packs and teams. But the idea of who her real dad was kept bugging her. Mary asked all three of them to take a test, but they all either said no (Jim) or dodged the question (Ray and Ben). It went like this for months, her always asking, them always giving her a reason why not. Regardless of her father's situation, she slowly felt the community shift to open up to her. Jo and Max would take her out, Conrad seemed bound and determined to make her laugh, and she started showing Maya how she did her hair. Mary more or less found a community in Chicago that at least partially eased the ache of losing her mom.

Ray and Ben signed her up for NERVOUS to help her grow as a rat and create a future career for her. She worked hard to push herself, but still remained on NERVOUS for 5 years, longer than almost any other rat. Eventually she was able to join POOH, and in 3 years made Head with the help of her three possible dads. About a year ago, Ben and about 200 other rats were killed in the Underground. Mary was devastated and everyone was in shock, Ben had been a part of the pack for a long time and was a staple in it. She realized that she couldn’t handle going through another loss of a parent and told Ray and Jim it didn’t matter who her actual biological dad was.

→ The Present Mary is investigating Clara’s frequent and consistent trips to the Underground. POOH is able to track her and other high ranking Heavy members to a secret entrance, but are stuck on the surface. They’ve tried looking in other places for the information, and have come up empty handed. Recently she has decided to join forces with RED. The two together could possibly get to the bottom of what’s happening, however Conrad won’t let her, or any other members of POOH,  join his crew Underground. He believes that inviting untrained members is too dangerous to his own operations, especially since they’d be following the heavies into the private chambers where the vampires are known to be their most hostile. This combined effort between the two of them is what finally started their relationship, but Mary is trying to keep their personal and work lives separated.

Mary is tired of everyone messing with POOH and pissing Clara off, ultimately causing more danger and trouble for her own team. Clara is the most entertaining alpha to annoy and various rats, often on SKIN or BOND, will come to annoy her in their free time. She’s brought it up to Conrad, Nick, and Jo, but it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon, and each time Clara loses it a bit more. Clara’s threatened exterminators soon, and while that doesn’t seem to both Nick, she’s not putting her people at risk.

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Zendaya (Mary Lang) [1][2]