#for the record too i fucking LOVE dorothy

[sweet-rabbit]

general question GW fandom, but as i have not seen the uncensored version of the show, i just wanted to check something... does trowa really and truly do NOTHING to dorothy after finding she had shish-kabobed quatre? like, am i remembering this correctly and am i justified to still be annoyed by it some 20 odd years later??? is it slightly different in the uncensored version outside of high blood content, please, somebody tell me...

[hippiegoth97]

Let Me Make Some Shit Clear

Hey, everybody. I never thought I would have to make a post like this, but here we go. Today I was tagged in a post by the lovely @violetpixiedust (please check out their post about this as well they cover it extremely well) and found out I was mentioned in a 'call-out' post for my Gator Tillman one-shot. The OP of the call-out post didn't have the balls to tag me, and instead listed me with many others and blocked me unprovoked. Here's screenshots of that post. I'll go into my feelings on that in a second. But, take a moment to read through all that.

So, let's set the record straight so nobody misunderstands me.

I do not in any way support MAGA bullshit, or any conservative ideology of any kind. I am a bisexual, leftist, atheist woman who believes in equality, respect, and rights for all.

I do not condone the awful actions of Gator Tillman, or his shit father. My story was very clear on that as well, he's extremely flawed and I thought I made that obvious. I really tried to drive home the fact that he's a product of abuse.

I was rooting for Dorothy Lyon the whole fucking season, because she is a badass woman who has been through too much for one lifetime. I myself am a victim of child abuse which has carried on into my adulthood. I know her. I am her. But I also know, and am, Gator. The OP also completely glazes over the fact that Gator was extremely abused. We see how Roy treats his 'property'. I do not think Gator would have been able to leave the ranch either, unless he got married off. If he left, he would be hunted down too.

Also, Gator knows he did bad things, he was ready to go to jail to pay for them as long as his awful father was kept away from him. Because he FEARED HIM. He was literally a child stuck in a grown man's body, and that is how we sympathize with him. And he killed that poor old woman on accident, I'm sure he took no pleasure in that. And the man in the skirt paid him back triple.

And another thing, it's fanfiction. And for those of you who have been in the trenches as long as I have would know that all kinds of stories get told in this community of ours. Is it always ethical? no. Is it always 100% morally sound? No. Does it explore many taboo subjects through artistic expression? Hell yes. There is a ton of stuff out there that I find repulsive and would never read. I will not say what because it is not my place to censor or judge others, or tell them how to express themselves. I simply focus on the works I do like, and read those. And this is something new fandom culture has seemed to have forgotten. Over and over I see people wringing their hands at smut, or subjects they find triggering, or things society says are wrong. But you're really opening a fucking can of worms when you're calling for the reporting, banning, and censorship of those who think differently than you. That's how you get laws like KOSA that directly target POC and LGBTQ+ content because some think it's 'pervasive' to children. That's how you get laws prohibiting teaching real history and removing diverse books from libraries.

Lastly, I will NEVER, EVER censor myself to please others. I will write whatever the fuck I want. You don't have to like it. That's fine. I learned a long time ago that I'm not to everyone's taste. And I've long since stopped giving a rat's ass about it. I am an artist, and I will continue to create the art that I am passionate about until my last dying breath.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Dorothea

I can’t believe I’m back! It’s been a little rough these past couple of months but I’m happy to be writing again and hopefully will bring it back to my daily routine! Taylor released a new album so of course I had to write something! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s just a little silly thing.

“We are a failure.”

“We have five Grammys.”

“We are a failure with five Grammys.”

Gavriel snorted at the same time Lorcan threw a piece of paper at Fenrys’s head. Rowan simply sighed, resting his head against the table and letting out a deep groan.

“Why can’t we release the album with twelve songs?” He raised his head, looking at his bandmates. “Every single song we tried to write this past week was absolute shit. I don’t want to shove some lame ass song on our album because my aunt feels like we should have thirteen songs like the last two albums.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fenrys snorted. “Why don’t you go tell Maeve that?”

Vaughan chuckled, putting the drumsticks down and walking to the table where Fenrys, Rowan, and Connall were sitting. Lorcan and Gavriel both sat on the ground nearby, ripping out bad half-finished lyrics from some notebooks.

“We need a vocalist, that’s why he won’t do it.” Vaughan singsonged, sitting by Connall’s side. “We have been trying to write the songs together, why don’t we try something each one of us wrote separately?”

There was a beat of silence. For the five years the band had been together, every single song had been written by all the members. Sometimes two or three of them would do most of the work, but out of their thirty eight songs, there wasn’t one that didn’t have a contribution from all the members. Yeah, they would write their own songs, but it was never really serious or even meant to be used in an album.

And because they weren’t serious or meant to be used in an album, they were either absolute shit or fucking personal.

Rowan held in another groan.

Lorcan shrugged, getting up and sitting by Rowan’s side. Gavriel did the same, sitting on the table head opposite to where Fenrys was.

“Ok, who’s gonna go first?” Gavriel clapped his hands. “Fenrys.”

“Why me?” He squeaked.

“Why not you?” Connall butted in.

“Yeah, why not you?” Vaughan backed his boyfriend.

“Rowan, this is a mutiny against me.” Fenrys turned his head to Rowan, pouting like a child.

Both Rowan and Lorcan smiled sarcastically, and the latter said, “you are not the one in charge. If it was a mutiny, it would be against Rowan.”

“Who asked for the vulture to speak?” Fenrys asked, eyes narrowing at Lorcan.

“Just show us a goddamn song, Fen.” Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. A few years ago, he had insisted for Gavriel to be the leader of the band. The older man had refused profusely, and Rowan only found out why when he started being the leader.

He was surrounded by adults who had the money and influence of gods but acted like children.

It was like being a mother but without the Mother’s day gifts. No advantages, really.

As instructed, Fenrys presented three songs for the group. And then Vaughan did. And then Connall, Gavriel, and Lorcan.

“I don’t know how to say this politely…” Connall started.

“They are absolute shit.” Lorcan finished.

“Shit is a compliment.” Rowan nodded, letting out a straggled laugh. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks, a small sense of panic rising inside of him. It wasn’t that Rowan was shy— he had let go of his shyness a long time ago—, but that didn’t mean he liked to go around advertising his personal ideas to the world. Some lyrics drafts should remain just that— drafts. Not everything was meant to be heard by everyone. Gathering some of his courage along with the knowledge that an acceptable song was an absolute necessity, he sighed. “I might have something.”

“What is it?” Gavriel said calmly at the same time Lorcan grunted. “You have something and you let us go through the torture of listening to Fenrys’s ideas?”

“You hurt my feelings like that, man.”

Rowan ignored both Lorcan and Fenrys, turning to Gavriel. “It’s about a girl.”

The room was dead silent.

Rowan knew he wasn’t really the dating type, much less the type to write songs about love, but the absolute silence was a little offensive.

“Ok…” Vaughan said, a scary smile on his face. “That came out of nowhere.”

“You can love someone?” Connall asked.

“You can feel emotions?” Fenrys deadpanned after his twin finished his sentence.

Lorcan snorted and Rowan saw Gavriel biting the inside of his cheeks. Absolute regret washed over his body immediately, but it was too late to back down.

Rowan tried to play it cool, keeping any emotions out of his face. He shrugged, opening a notebook and tapping a pen against it. “Not anyone I’ve seen in years. I don’t even remember her real name.”

The Cadre exchanged looks.

“When I was a kid my parents used to send me to this summer camp. From ages six to thirteen there was this girl who also went every single summer. She was a year younger, but we were friends. Barely talked during the rest of the year, maybe exchanged a letter or two.” He continued, eyes skimming through the lyrics in front of him. “Childhood crush and all. I know her name started with an A… Maybe an E? The counselors used to call her Dorothy, and I thought it was Dorothea. Called her that for two months until she corrected me. The nickname stuck between us, so yeah, Dorothea is all I have. I was thirteen when I stopped going, so she was twelve. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Oh, that’s cute… Tragic young love and all.” Fenrys was smiling like an idiot, and Rowan rolled his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about Dorothea, not even his parents, not even when he was a kid. Life at home was shit during the whole year, but the summers? They were for late nights, swimming in the lake, running in the forest. They were sunny, and easy, and the few good memories he had from childhood. And she was in all of those memories— the girl and that fucking dog. Dorothea was the purest thing about his childhood, and he never wanted to have her memory stained by telling about her to his parents or school friends.

“Let me see this.” Vaughan said, taking Rowan’s notebook before Rowan could react. His friend’s pitch black eyes skimmed rapidly through the page, mouth opening slowly. “Holy shit.”

“It’s shit?” Lorcan asked.

“No, I mean holy shit as in this is amazing.” Vaughan looked up, brows raised. He passed the notebook to Gavriel, making both Lorcan and Connall move closer to read it too.  “You had this song for two years now according to the date on the edge of the page. Why didn’t you share?”

Rowan cleared his throat, regret just growing more and more. “We write every song together.”

“If every song you write is like this, then we should probably let you take care of this task from now on.” Lorcan said, taking the notebook and throwing it to Fenrys.

Fenrys’s was probably Rowan’s best friend. They knew each other for the longest, and even though Rowan would never admit it out loud, Fenrys was the closest thing he had to a family and his approval was important.

Fen raised his head from the notebook, dark eyes shinning as a huge smile broke his face in half. “We’re recording this. Today.”

Connall and Vaughan laughed, and Lorcan clapped Rowan’s back. “Good job, birdie.”

Rowan didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but somewhere between absolute fright and excitement could probably describe it.

—————

“Rowan Whitethorn!” A female voice rang through the room, and every member of the Cadre winced.

“Your aunt is gonna kill you.” Connall said, face washed with fear.

Maeve Whitethorn was the scariest woman to ever walk this earth, and so Rowan didn’t think Connall was completely wrong about that.

And yet, when Maeve entered the room she was…

“What the fuck.” Fenrys blurted out.

Smiling?

“She smiles.” Fenrys loudly whispered to Lorcan, receiving a punch to his arm.

“You, my nephew, are a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, ok, what the fuck.” Vaughan asked from the drums.

“What did I do?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid that his aunt had actually gone insane.

“Dorothea, that’s what you did!”

“People liked the song then?” Gavriel asked from the couch. “It was a filler song, but good to know that’s not forgotten.”

“Oh, you’re not understanding.” Maeve laughed. All the boys’ jaws went slack. “People are eating that song up. And I mean trending everywhere, top in every single chart… Everyone loves Dorothea.”

“But how?” Lorcan frowned. “We didn’t advertise it.”

“Because people love a real life story of love.”

With that comment, Rowan’s body went taunt.

What the fuck.

No one in the band had told anyone what the song was about, nor that it was a real thing. For all the world knew, it was just another song that the band wrote together. And that’s how it should have stayed. Rowan hated being the center of attentions, and hated even more when his personal life was the topic at matter.

Dorothea had been his secret for so long, and he really thought that the song would be a secretive way to tell the story to the world.

If people knew it was real, if people knew anything about it, it was obviously not as secretive as he thought it was gonna be.

Shit, Dorothea wasn’t even her real fucking name. There’s no way anyone could know that.

Unless…

“Wait, she heard the song?” Rowan blurted out, a mix of emotions making his stomach drop. That also wasn’t on his plans.

Fenrys’s eyes widened. “Dorothea came forward?”

“Holy shit.” Vaughan let out a nervous laugh. Connall put a hand over his mouth, and both Lorcan and Gavriel looked at Rowan.

The boys knew how Rowan wanted this song to go. Knew he didn’t want the real story to go around like this. Because when stories went around like this, people would start making theories, and harassing the girl, and just shoving themselves in situations that did not concern them. Rowan loved his fans, loved the world he was in, but he was also the first to admit how brutal it could be. It would only take one slip up, one fact about this girl that the media didn’t like, for the whole world to attack her.

Rowan tried to protect her from his fucked up life during childhood just to throw her to the sharks later on.

And yet, another part of his panic had nothing to do with the media and the fans. It had to do with her. What if she hated the song? What of she didn’t want that story to be told? What if she wished for a calm life where her presence would never be noticed by the media? Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction, if she had remembered him the first time she listened to it or if it took a while.

He felt like his own body was trying to suffocate itself.

Fuck, he was gonna vomit. Or maybe pass out. Shit maybe even pass out on a pool of his vomit.

Ok, that was disgusting.

“It wasn’t the girl who came forward, it was her roommate. Posted a video online and then boom! Global success.” Maeve said, not even noticing her nephew’s growing panic. “Wait, I’ll show you the video!”

Fenrys grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, sitting by his side on the couch as Maeve plugged her phone to the projector. Lorcan sat between Rowan and Gavriel on the couch, and Connall and Vaughan sat on the ground. All of them looked expectantly at the screen, waiting for the bomb to drop.

He was gonna see her again.

After sixteen years.

Shit, it was getting hot inside that fucking room.

The screen popped up, and a beautiful woman with green eyes and long dark brown hair showed up.

“That’s not her.” Rowan blurted out. She could have dyed her hair, facial expression changed over the years but… That wasn’t the girl he met during the summer. No, he would recognize her eyes anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t green like his.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I told you it was her roommate who came forward. Now watch.”

The video started playing, and the strong and excited voice of the smiling woman on the screen started sounding through the speakers. “Ok, so I was driving home the other day, listening to the new album of the Cadre when the song Dorothea came up, right? And I thought that it was a little strange for the Cadre to put a rerecording of a song on the album since they had never done it before.”

The girl started to walk around her apartment, excitement lacing every single word.

“But then I found out that Dorothea is not a rerecording. But that doesn’t make sense, because I was a hundred percent sure I already knew this story. I don’t know any Dorothea, and I sure as hell don’t know Rowan Whitethorn, so it made no sense that I already knew the story being told in the song.” The girl let out a laugh, entering a room inside her apartment. “For days I would listen to that fucking song and keep asking myself why I feel like I know it. It’s not from a book, a movie…”

She started pulling out a box from under the bed, smile widening.

“And so yesterday my roommate asked me to grab an old box of VHS under her bed when I saw this box.” She filmed a huge box in front of her, the lid barely containing all the photos inside. “And that’s when I remembered where I know Dorothea from.”

The girl laughed again, opening the lid and running her hand through the pictures. “I knew the story because she had told me years ago. Dorothea wasn’t her fucking name, it was her nickname.”

As if in slow motion, the brunette took out an old picture from inside the box. Rowan felt all the air leaving his lungs as he stared at it. The picture was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking it. It was eight year old him in swim trunks, his arm over the shoulder of a shorter seven year old blond girl. Her biking was pink and full of frills, her wet blond hair sticking to her shoulders. She was holding a small black puppy, the dog obviously trying to wiggle himself out of the picture. The both stood before the lake, smiling brightly, a bunch of teeth missing. The girl in the video turned the picture, and right there, written in a fading blue pen was what made the song so famous.

Dorothea and Roro and Toto. Summer of 2000.

The girl in the video turned the camera back to her, smile not leaving her lips. “She told me that the nickname was Dorothea because the counselors used to call her Dorothy. As in the Wizard of Oz. The dog’s name was Toto, and so she was Dorothy. But then, he understood it wrong and just called her Dorothea. And…”

“What are you doing in my room?” A sweet, soft, and low voice interrupted whatever the brunette was going to say. She let out a yelp, letting the phone fall.

And the screen went black.

The room was silent for a few minutes after the video was over.

“Well shit.” Fenrys broke the silence. “What are the chances of her being as beautiful as her roommate?”

Lorcan reached behind Rowan to hit Fenrys on the back of his head.

“We should put a gag in his mouth.” Gavriel sighed.

“Oh, kinky.” Fenrys smiled seductively and winked at Gavriel. If it weren’t for the absolute shock raging inside of him, Rowan would have laughed.

“Is there a video of her?” Rowan quietly asked his aunt.

She looked at him for a second too long before nodding. “Just a second, there might be one. She isn’t really one for the cameras, but I do think she showed up in a Halloween video.”

She wasn’t one for the cameras.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wasn’t one for the cameras and Rowan had made her existence global knowledge.

Maeve took a few seconds to try to find the video, smiling again once she found it.

“This is still fucking weird. Your aunt can smile.” Fenrys said, and Rowan was glad for the words. Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time, and Fenrys’s stupid comments were a good way of centering himself. Looking at his friend, Rowan realized that Fenrys knew exactly what he was doing. “I thought she had lost the ability when she was, like, five or something.”

“That would imply that Maeve was ever a child.” Vaughan whispered from the ground.

Connall snorted, and Lorcan tried to contain a smirk.

“Here it is!” Maeve announced.

As if the screen was a magnet, all the eyes in the room snapped back to it. They all watched the screen expectantly, and Rowan thought Fenrys was even bouncing on his seat.

A petite woman appeared, clad in a black dress that matched her pitch black hair and eyes. If Rowan wasn’t so distracted, maybe he would have noticed Lorcan’s low, and yet sharp, intake of breath.

The pale girl was in the middle of two taller guys, one with inky black hair with a crown on top of it, sapphire eyes contrasting with the blood red of his cloak, and the other one with golden blond hair under a pirate hat. The three of them stared at a tall woman dressed in what Rowan supposed was a reaper costume. The white blond hair and golden eyes made her perfect for the part.

“He’s a cunt.” The reaper girl said, picking her nails with a scythe Rowan wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The girl behind the camera— the brunette that recorded the video that exposed the real meaning of the song, Rowan supposed— chuckled as the two other guys exchanged a humorous look.

The petite woman smiled, obviously in agreement with her friend. “He is, but that’s ok. Did Tam end our three year relationship, six hours before Halloween, through the phone? Yes. Were we planning on a couple’s costume and I was left like an idiot wearing an Evie O’Connell costume with no Rick? Yes. But that’s ok because I have…”

“Me.” That same low and soft voice filled the room again, and as if she was always the center of attentions, all heads in the video snapped to her. Even though she wasn’t on camera yet, Rowan could hear the smile in her voice.

The blond guy rolled his eyes. “You have a thing for dramatic entrances, Aelin.”

Aelin.

Her name was Aelin.

“Reason why I live, actually. But come on. Don’t I deserve a dramatic entrance when I look like this? I look rather fucking dashing as Rick O’Connell, don’t I?”

“She does.” The guy with inky black hair nodded towards the blond guy.

“Don’t encourage her.” The other grunted, shaking his head but obviously smiling. “If my cousin’s head grows a little bit more she won’t be able to pass through the door.”

And then, as if time itself had stopped that second, the camera turned to Aelin and all oxygen left the room.

“Fucking shit.” Connall breathed, and Rowan saw Fenrys’s jaw going slack from the corner of his eye.

In his defense, so did Rowan’s.

The woman— Aelin— was exactly what she had just called herself. Fucking dashing.

Golden strawberry hair pulled back into one of those high, terribly made buns, slightly tan skin, and bright blue eyes, Aelin was every inch dashing she claimed to be. The costume was exactly what Brendan Fraser had wore the majority of the movie, and hell if it didn’t fit her perfectly. Aelin had grown to be the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, and he felt his heart doing laps inside his chest just like when he was younger.

Well, fuck.

“If she was Rick O’Connell in the movies I would have probably paid more attention.” Fenrys muttered, dodging another hit from Lorcan. “What?! Look at her. The girl looks like the offspring of an angel and a supermodel.”

Aelin grinned, straight white teeth biting her lower lip. “Thank you, Dorian. And, I don’t need encouragement, Aedion. I am quite capable of being narcissistic on my own.”

The girl with blond white hair chuckled. “You were supposed to be a reaper with me.”

Aelin fake pouted. “Elide, my dearest cousin,” Aelin said pointedly, eyes narrowing at Aedion. Elide, the petite girl dressed as Evie, bit her cheeks to keep a smile in. “Needed me. Put a crown on top of your pretty head and do a couple’s costume with your boyfriend, Manon.”

Dorian sighed. “I tried convincing her.”

Manon simply crossed her arms. “I don’t do couple’s costume.”

Aelin shrugged nonchalantly. “Pity.”

And then, much to Rowan’s absolute panic and fascination, Aelin turned directly to the camera. She was obviously going to talk to the girl recording, but Rowan could barely hear the words as her full face came into view. Aelin was beautiful, but Aelin staring straight at you? Breathtaking.

“Don’t you think it’s a pity, Lys?” Aelin asked innocently, but a smirk graced her lips.

The smile in Lys’s voice was obvious. “Oh, yes. A pity.”

Aelin smiled, turning to Elide with a raised brow. Her cousin gave a less vicious version of Aelin’s smile. “Such a pity.”

It was obviously some inside joke, because Manon grunted, rolling her eyes. “Are we going or not?”

Aelin rich laugh drowned the room before the video ended.

“Well.” Vaughan said after a few beats of silence.

“Well.” Gavriel agreed.

“Well.” Another voice came from the door, and Rowan had to keep a displeased grunt in as Erawan walked into the room. The man was smiling sarcastically, eyeing the frozen image on the screen hungrily. Aelin had thrown her head back, mouth half open as she laughed. “Would you be pissed if I asked her hand in marriage, Rowan? Quite a beautiful girl, your Dorothea.”

Rowan would have gotten up and punched Erawan if Fenrys hadn’t literally sat on his lap before he could do anything. His friend turned to Erawan with a smile on his lips. “Unfortunately, Ewew, I believe the lady in question must prefer to stick to humans. She doesn’t really look like the I-do-demons type.”

Despite the obvious tension in the room, Connall took out his phone and took a picture of Fenrys sitting on Rowan’s lap. Lorcan had his arm behind both Gavriel and Rowan, and Vaughan was sitting in between Rowan and Lorcan’s leg. “You guys look like a strange ass family. This is gonna be this year’s Christmas card. I’ll photoshop myself in.”

Lorcan snorted, shaking his head before looking at Erawan. “Let’s leave the girl out of this, alright? If any of us wanted to use her for advertisement, we would have contacted her ourselves.”

“I’m your PR.” Erawan smiled. He was, a fact that the whole Cadre regretted. All pf them waited excitedly for the day Erawan’s contract expired.

Maeve was hard and cold, Erawan was a straight up asshole. Not even his aunt could put up with him for long.

“A very unfortunate fact you never let us forget, Earwax.” Fenrys said, nodding diplomatically. “Very, very unfortunate.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this shit.” Rowan finally said something, voice low and threatening. Just the thought of throwing his childhood friends to the wolves that surrounded his life made his stomach turn. “You are my PR, so do your job. Create a distraction, release some rerecording, book us some interviews… I don’t care, but I want the focus away from her. I don’t want her involved in anything, Erawan. I mean it.”

The room was silent, tension threatening to suffocate anyone who breathed deep enough.

To Rowan’s surprise, and some gratefulness, Maeve took a step forward. She unplugged her phone from the projector, and Aelin’s image disappeared. “I believe it’s better if we keep the girl out of this. She’s very low profile, private accounts on both Twitter and Instagram. Dragging her into spotlight might not be a good option, specially since we don’t know how she behaves, what it would do to the image of the band. We have a love story, let the fans speculate, do some theories. Everything will die down in a month and she’ll be able to continue with her life.”

For all her harshness, all her coldness, Maeve wasn’t a bad aunt. She started taking care of Rowan when he was fifteen, and although they never had a close relationship, Maeve knew how to help him whenever he really needed it. It was the reason why he asked her to be the band manager, despite her obvious dislike of the human race. She was smart, cunning, and, at that moment, was using both qualities to keep Aelin out of what would become a huge mess.

“If we bring her in, there is nothing to terrorize. Her personality will be real, not something fans can stipulate and mold to their liking. She’s young and private, throwing her to the media would be a carnage. Leave Aelin out of this.” Gavriel tried to resonate with Erawan, voice low and calm as always.

Erawan sat on a table, a fake hurt expression overtaking his features as he sighed. “If only you had told me that before.”

The pit inside Rowan’s stomach grew.

“Before what.” Vaughan grunted.

“Before I contacted the girl.” Erawan smiled, as Rowan felt all the oxygen leave the room. He stared straight into Rowan’s eyes, a cruel smile overtaking his lips. “Would you like to see your childhood friend again, Whitethorn?”

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Tags

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[jessicajonesrp]

Public warning

Patricia Walker does not do well with lack of control. It’s a tendency passed down from life with Dorothy Walker, easily the most controlling non super-powered person she had ever met. For the first eighteen years of her life, most of Trish’s actions, from her clothes to her work to her every public word and expression, had been chosen for her by Dorothy, and the only real choice she had for herself was whether to give in and make life easier for herself or rebel and suffer Dorothy’s wrath.

 Her desire for the control she had lacked had left her with severe insecurity, eating disorders, and self medication through drugs, all issues she struggled with for a good ten years before channeling her need for control into efforts at bettering herself and helping others. She had finally reached a place where life was stable, heading in a direction Trish could be content with, if not fully satisfied.

 And then Kilgrave happened. First to Jessica only, without Trish having any idea why her best friend had suddenly vanished without contact for eight months, and then with the shattered mess it left her once Trish did know and struggled to support her. Then to Trish herself, when she, against Jessica’s orders and even pleas, involved herself in trying to draw him out and capture him.

 Trish knew she had not suffered anywhere near the level that her sister had from Kilgrave, but it was still enough to make her feel sick and cold when she remembered. She still occasionally had nightmares of his cold, snapping voice, telling her to shoot herself in the head, telling her to kill people she had never met before out on the docks. She still shivered in disgust when she remembered the feeling of his hands on her face, his lips on her skin, the terrible ambivalence of wanting to kiss him, enjoying it, even as every part of her true self screamed out in horror. And she could never forget Simpson’s hands around her throat, choking her nearly to the point of death at Kilgrave’s command.

 She had hated and feared the man from the first moment Jessica managed to stutter out what he had done to her. No, she had hated him before then, when she first saw the unnaturally shocked, broken state of her sister when she finally broke free from his initial control. Anyone who could hurt Jessica so deeply and so permanently earned her hatred without needing to know their identity.

 And now he was back. Again. As much as Trish feared for herself, for being used or even killed in his obsessive pursuit of Jessica, she feared even more that Kilgrave would damage Jessica even more deeply, that he would continue to pile up dead and damaged bodies around himself and place the blame at her feet. Jessica didn’t need this, not again. And if Trish could do anything to help or stop it, it would help her feel just a little bit more of a sense of the control she knew she didn’t really have.

 She made her way to her recording studio after first sending some of Heroes for Hires guards ahead of her to thoroughly check out the studio for any signs of danger from Kilgrave or any of his like, giving them a code phrase to use to insure that they would be able to alert her if he did show up and control them or others.  Trish had already called ahead to insure that all people were thoroughly searched for any possible weapons and passed at least twice through the metal detectors already installed before being allowed entrance. After receiving the all clear, she went, Jessica insisting on accompanying her, via one of Danny’s cars to the studio, passing through the checks put in place and heading straight to her recording studio and instructing the techs to set up for a live broadcast. She was aware of Jessica skulking behind her, hands shoved in her pockets, as Trish rapidly read from the speech she had just finished churning out.

 “Good afternoon New York City and beyond, this is Trish Walker with an urgent report coming to you from Trish Talk, by way of myself and all our associates at Heroes for Hire. Soon, a follow up broadcast will be coming your way via Channel 5 News with more information, but please, listen very carefully to this announcement for your safety and those of your loved ones.”

 Trish paused, swallowing, and snuck a glance back at Jessica’s impassive expression before facing the mic again and continuing. “Most of you may remember the terrible events of last summer, when the man whom called himself Kilgrave provided mass terror and destruction in our city and in far too many of our own lives and homes. It is to my great sorrow that I inform you that Kilgrave is not, as was believed, deceased. Kilgrave has made personal contact with myself and with-“

 Jessica made violent throat slashing motions behind her that Trish saw out the corner of her eye, and Trish edited her intended words smoothly.

 “With myself and my colleagues, and we have evidence to support that this is no hoax. Please be aware of yourself and those you love at all times. Know their whereabouts, establish coded phrases and patterns of behavior in order to test out the level of control the people in your life may have at any given moment. Kilgrave is a white male with a British accent, last known to have short medium brown hair and brown eyes. He tends to dress in a professional manner, especially in dark purple suits and ties, and he is considered a threat of the level of nuclear war. Do not approach him should you see him; instead do all you can to get away and call in our hotline at Trish Talk or Heroes for Hire to report a possible sighting. If you suspect that someone you know may be controlled, treat them in the same manner, do all you can to subdue them without causing permanent harm to them if necessary. Kilgrave’s powers last up to 12 hours, so do not under any circumstances try to reason with anyone you suspect to be controlled. If at all possible, wear ear plugs or head phones or listen to loud music when necessary to go out in public. Kilgrave cannot gain control of those whom are not within his direct path and whom cannot hear his commands. He-“

 “Stop,” a voice suddenly came over the ear, and both Trish and Jessica jumped, recognizing the voice after a moment as not Kilgrave’s, but female and American. Trish quickly identified the voice a second later as belonging to one of her tech support assistants, Chloe Ash. “The information is over.”

 “What the fuck?” Jessica hissed, shooting Chloe a vicious glower and striding towards her quickly. “Will you shut up, even I know to shut the hell up on a live recording, over something this damn important!”

 Trish tried to recover, giving a somewhat forced chuckle and speaking over them. “I apologize, there are some technical difficulties, but if you’ll bear with me I will make sure you all get the information you need. As I was saying, Kilgrave cannot-"

 “This information is too much, this recording is over,” Chloe repeated, more loudly and forcefully, standing up and taking the headphones off of her ears. She fairly shouted out her next few words, speaking loudly enough that Trish’s words were drowned out.

 “Loyal listeners, you will now hear the sound of a suicide by Chloe Ash, Patsy Walker’s employee. More are to follow in the names and as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones. Goodbye, loyal listeners, and know that Kilgrave is a patient man.”

 She head butted Jessica in the face when Jessica grabbed for her arm, ducking under her and weaving to the other side of Trish. As Trish leaped up, expecting Chloe to grab or try to harm her, the young woman instead ran to a small cabinet against the walls containing little more than sound equipment and various office supplies. Throwing it open, she grabbed a pair of scissors from its contents, opened the blades wide, and closed them around the front of her throat.

 She made no sound, showed no pain as she dragged the scissor blades more deeply into her skin, sawing back and forth to make as rough and deep a wound as possible. The live recording now picked up the sound of Trish’s horrified scream, her outcries of “Oh god, no, no!” as blood spattered in a wide arc just short of reaching her, and the noisy scuttle of multiple feet moving towards Chloe as others tried to reach her before it was too late.

 Jessica got to her first and wrenched the scissors out of her hand, breaking them in half and throwing them down so Chloe could not get them and use them any further. Tearing off her oversized sweatshirt, she pressed it against the woman’s throat, grimly noting how the blood immediately stained through its thick material and onto her fingers, how it had sprayed hot and thick over her arms and chest before she could touch her at all. The woman didn’t try to speak, likely couldn’t have, but she was losing all color in her face, her eyes already growing glassy and lifeless, and as Trish sputtered and tried not to vomit or pass out in the background, Jessica held onto the almost useless bloodied sweater, as though she could somehow keep the woman alive just by holding on tight enough.

 It didn’t matter. Within another minute the woman was clearly dead, limp and unmoving under Jessica’s hands, and she could hear the shrill noise of sirens in the background. Jessica let her drop to the ground, stumbling back and nearly yelling out loud when she bumped into Trish and felt her hands latch onto her arm.

 “We have to go, now,” she mumbled, giving her sister’s arm a rough tug.” Before someone else of his comes through in the aftermath.”

 Even as she lead Trish out of the room and building, she could still hear the dying woman’s words echo in her mind. More are to follow, as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones…

[harpersplay]

4x14 Thoughts

I touched on this before, but context fucking matters. Even though it erased Annie's class & Ruby's race while using Beth's momness and whiteness as a shield, the speech in 1x02 works because it's life and death. It works because these women have just been thrown into this scary world and Beth makes a desperate but savvy (she picks up on Rio being more than just a gangbanger and appeals to his business side) plea. She uses what she can (Annie has never brought orange slices to any game ever, let's be real) and saves the day. And yet we see how terrified she was even after it worked. IT WAS AN UNREAL SITUATION THAT FELT REAL. Beth's recent "boss bitch" moments do not work because it's just her fully leaning into the smug entitled white lady role. I feel like too many fans ignore 2x13-3x02. The threat of Rio (and the FBI) was GONE as far as Beth knew. But she decided to do crime. Ruby was stealing from her workplace. Beth was putting Dorothy and Lucy at legal risk by using her store and her work, respectively, to commit crimes without telling them. That's who Beth is. So reframing her actions in S3 & S4 as simply reactions to evil Rio trying to ruin her life not only removes Beth's agency. It is also hollow. Because Beth has zero problem with crime—stealing Gayle's business, bribing a city official, hiring a hitman, setting up an innocent man to be a murderer, making Dean "sell" a hot tub to Mick, selling counterfeit purses, blackmailing men into buying those purses. Beth has a problem with not getting her way. And that's not enjoyable to watch. This is not me saying Beth has to be likeable as in a "good" person. But she has to be likeable to watch. Mary Pat is a total weirdo with very questionable morality, but she's enjoyable to watch. Vance is fucking creepy as shit, but he's enjoyable to watch. And while the show gave both those characters some dimension, it never portrayed them as characters we should unabashedly cheer for. That's not how they write Beth. They still—four fucking seasons in—want us to see her as a mom just trying to survive. But that's not the story plotwise that they have chosen to write. And the fact that Beth's "wins" are almost always at the expense of other women or POC is an added gross factor.

The show needs to make up it's mind about the monetary situation. Either things are dire and they are saving every penny to "escape" to Nevada. Or they have enough money to refurbish Sweet P's and buy Kenny an iPad.

Detroit city council is by district. Why do they keep referencing Ward 5?

Nice of the show to have Dave & Phoebe literally walk thru the situation. Super FUN! that the women who have been in this for years (per date revealed in 4x13) still don't understand how it works. The only way I like this scene is if it is a meta commentary about how the majority of the show stans have never understood how any of the crime aspects work 🧐 And I see that the show is yet again ignoring Turner's whiteboard and everything else implied about Rio's business dealings in S1.

Phoebe's no Turner, but I've never disliked her. She was really good in this episode, but the Phoebe/Beth stuff from stans is annoying. Why are people so into ships where Beth is awful to the other person and yet the other person is willing to risk things for Beth? Wait...I think I answered my own question.

So much wasted time on these MRA guys. I guess they don't need to be ~mysterious~ and I love (I don't) the casual misogyny in all their scenes. Preemptive GTFOH: I know—believe me, more than I want to—that men like this exist. I know it is realistic. But, again, as I mentioned before, the show is more than happy to ignore all types of realism to make the story they want to tell work. So don't tell me that this is simply a reflection of society. Jenna & Co are choosing to write this storyline in this way and she thinks it is fun and comedic.

The show is about the 3 women and anyone asking for more screen time for Rio is a misogynist. One minute spent on Annie's new shitty white male love interest popping her pimple = crickets.

The show is about the 3 women and anyone asking for more screen time for Rio is a misogynist. Dean having the reasonable response to Beth running for city council while she dismisses his legitimate concerns = crickets.

And, btw, Denise doesn't need secret insider information. Even if Dean's police records are sealed—why tho?—the two extremely visible daytime raids on the family businesses would have been on the news. And—gag!—Beth's visit to Denise was hella stupid. Denise is not a criminal, like the girls were in S1, so she has no narrative reason not to call the cops on Beth & her "thug." It was a shallow parallel and just another example of Beth needing a man to handle things for her.

I mentioned in my 4x13 thoughts about how the Sweet P's "fun and empowering...unlikely feminist statement" is bullshit. The girls, specifically Ruby, spent a lot of time judging the dancers. Beth straight up mocked Krystal's voice. They didn't care about implicating them in crime or costing them their jobs when they set up Gene to take the fall for the money laundering. They only "care" now because they need them.

Annie & Nancy's scene would have been nicer if Annie didn't imply that Greg(g)'s cheating was Nancy's failure. Again, they could have had them talk about the cheating and difficulty that Nancy went through as an example of a hardship she overcame. But they CHOSE to have Nancy explicitly frame the business disaster as a personal failing. So having Annie respond with the infidelity doesn't come across as tough love. It comes across as needlessly callous and victim-blaming.

This is long already, so I'm not even going to get into the Beth & Rio conversation at Sweet P's.

Ugh, Rio & Nick. So fucking dumb. Where was Nick before all of this? Why is he flexing his muscle now? With what we've gotten of his characterisation & attitude, are we to believe that this is the first time in 20 years that Rio & Nick have clashed? I would think that he would have been very concerned and involved when Rio drew the attention of the FBI. But Nick was nowhere to be found. (Because these writers don't understand the difference between retconning and world expansion.) Although I did get a chuckle when Nick said, "You think you'd have any of this?" while gesturing to Rio's usually empty bar.

Yet again, no cameras in an area that would most likely have cameras. And white woman Beth implicating gangs (which to cops = Black & brown youth) with her "broken windows theory" scare tactic is disgusting.

Caribbean flair and Mahalo. I'm so goddamn exhausted at this point.

Hello, Random Bitch Wife. FUN!

Hey, speaking of context matters....that entire last scene Beth is actively working with Phoebe & Dave to send Rio to prison. Romance!!!

[artiesjam]

i can imagine so much hc with the boys before 1995

(they all go to the mall every tuesday once their parents give them allowance. the band is all heading to a record shop inside of the mall until alex catches sight of a fanny pack inside of a hot topic window. it’s nice and has a rainbow stripe heading right down the middle. bobby hovers over him silently looking at the item too. he asks if alex wants to get it. once he nods, bobby understands, telling him that he’s gonna catch up with luke and reggie. he buys it with the cash in his pocket and the cashier locks eyes with him. the blonde and this guy both have this unexpected weird moment and as he’s about to leave, the guy calls out and asks if he’s free to meet back here on friday. alex says sure and walks out, feeling like the happiest person in the world. he tells the guys and they hype him up in the middle of the mall.)

(bobby being a foster kid and his foster parents didn’t mind his friends coming over. they even soundproofed the studio for him. they were planning to adopt him the same year his friends died. it was probably his best family since he went into the system at five years old)

(alex and reggie were childhood friends. they have been since they were eight. bobby and luke came the same year and when they were all paired up for a project, they just clicked.)

(bobby and alex both use humor to cope and are insanely sarcastic. they both religiously use the middle finger and curse very often.)

(bobby will curse at a minor inconvenience “fucking hell” or “S H I T”)

(bobby has a dog who weirdly favors reggie and luke is just like “come on dorothy why don’t you love me 🥺🥺” and then bobby is like “dude maybe it’s because you won’t call her her actual name. it’s dot not dorothy, dumbass” and then luke pouts. alex didn’t care because he likes cats better)

(every single year they had a tradition of “cursed gifts” where they would give normal gifts and each person would have one cursed one from a special someone. one year bobby gave luke a shirt with double sleeves that he got his mom to sew on and luke got alex a barbie mini bike with training wheels. oh and bobby is allergic to peanuts so they get him some sort of peanut themed option whether it’s peanut butter or witty jokes like getting a shirt with the charlie brown cast “the peanuts”)

(each birthday the band sings an Oprah version of happy birthday for whoever has said birthday)

(huge d&d nerds when they were 13. alex acted like he wasn’t interested but he really did enjoy listening to them play or make references)

(reggie sometimes blurts random facts and bobby uses that to his advantage in intense arguments for example:

reggie, trying to calm down an intense argument by saying a random fact: did you know that humans are the only animals that blush?

bobby: thank you reggie! you see luke, even if other animals could blush, i bet you couldn’t even make them. tsk tsk tsk

alex: *intense laughing noises*)

[hillbillied]

I'm about to be a basic bitch and ask for andyeddie for the domestic ship meme please and thank you?! 💜

fuck yeah you can, i want all of these!! and if this means we’re basic then call me bottom-line PH neutral, my dude - this is an andyeddie brain rot zone, you know this and i thank you so much for it!!

DOMESTIC SHIP MEME - AndyEddie

who reaches out to new neighbors

Andy. mr personality over here got it all. smooth voice, soft accent, award-winning smile. some neighbours take a while to even realise the tall, scary-looking guy in the blue pickup lives in the same house.

who remembers to buy healthy food

Andy, sort of. he buys a range but he does love his fresh fruit and veg. Eddie, on the other hand, shops simultaneously like he’s only got $5 and is on death row. not necessarily unhealthy just… bread. pasta. bacon. ready meal shit. bags of snacks. buy in bulk, Andy, it’s cheaper.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Eddie, more practical knowledge from the machines. Andy would rather just call someone but has accepted just watching. (Eddie wears a dirty vest when he’s fixing it. got it tucked into his jeans with that big ol’ belt he wears and his tattooed arms are out so Andy just sips his drinks like cool, cool, please hurry up or this is going to turn into a bad porno.)

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

Andy waters the plants because he loves his plants. he has a flowerbed when they get a garden but even in an apartment he had flowerpots on the windowsills; he loves gardening. (pet wise, when they get a dog, they both feed it. they share cleaning, though Eddie is more maintenance and Andy more cleaning.)

who wakes up earlier

Eddie. six in the morning, without fail. marine clock, baby, that shit will never die. (not without heavy drinking or an all-nighter anyway.)

who makes the bed

Eddie. because Andy’s shit at it. military-corners Eddie’s fucking ass; Andy’s terrible at keeping things tidy. he’s clean but he’s not neat.

who burns breakfast

Andy. Eddie is a great cook, he does deliciously simple comfort foods and he makes dinner every night. full-on stereotypical house-husband in that regard, because Andy’s the breadwinner of the two in the boring hetero sense. Andy can cook, as in he can follow instructions and not set the kitchen on fire, but he’s the only one who’ll burn anything.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Andy always kisses Eddie on the forehead. he’ll probably smooch him properly first – or worse, because he’s a a bastard, and will grab his ass before leaving – but he always marks that he’s actually leaving by kissing his forehead. he will go find Eddie specifically to give him his goodbye kiss.

Eddie shouts. hollers he’s going out in the shortest, blunted transfer of information. a grunted “Goin’ work” kind of deal. unless it’s spontaneous, he’ll also give Andy a kiss. it’s always on the lips and its chaste but heavy, pressing hard like he’s trying to remember the sensation. then he’ll get out of bed or grab his keys or go shower or whatever, and leave with a shout to mark him actually opening the door.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

Andy’s talkative. he’s “You have a good day?” or “You’ll never guess who turned up this afternoon!”. first one is default if nothing interesting’s happened. he wants to start a conversation, even if he talks and Eddie grunts. he doesn’t get up to greet; he knows Eddie will come find him and either sit down in his lap or come up behind him and wrap two strong arms around his waist. whatever suits, no rules

Eddie wanders out to meet Andy. he’ll come downstairs or walk into the entrance hallway. he’ll always have his arms folded, because he wants Andy to tell him what happened while he was out. (he doesn’t consider himself very interesting, yet he always wants to hear about the most basic shit Andy does.) normally he’ll add a “How was it?” or “Evenin’”. then he’ll wait because Andy usually answers him but not before he’s given him a greeting kiss.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

both. Andy on the chocolates, Eddie on the flowers.

Andy knows the flavours Eddie enjoys and likes popping them into his mouth while Eddie berates him about wasting money. Andy buys things he thinks Eddie likes, but he also buys things Eddie needs and will not buy himself. lighters, jeans, shoes, wallets, picture frames, glasses cases. things that are worn down to the bone and need replacing. but also things like books and records.

Eddie’s a traditionalist, even if his reasoning might be a little tainted by heterosexual bullshit and toxic masculinity. he thinks flowers are beautiful, he knows Andy loves them, even memorised what kind he loves most, but there’s a-whole-nother level of gears in his mind about buying them. eventually he does because he desperately wants the ‘romance he can never have’. it’s a semi-special occasion the first time, like he’s picking Andy up from the station. he brings his bouquet and he looks way more uncomfortable holding it than Andy ever could be receiving it. (Andy, of course, is overwhelmed with joy. he puts them in the front window so everybody can see and he prunes them daily and he changes the water so they last longer and he plays with Eddie’s hair while looking at them and talks about how much he loves them. Eddie starts buying him flowers a fair bit after that.)

their favorite kind of movie to watch

I’ve been doing these for canon-era (1950s) so for that it’s any western movie and specifically The King and I. (they’re a couple of gays who love a good musical.) they don’t enjoy all the war movies, particularly since most of them are about Europe and are just completely surreal.

modern AU: shitty horror movies – they’ve seen every Final Destination and can rate them in order of ‘watchability’ – and 1990s classics like Jurassic Park and Jumanji, they’re simple guys.)

who first suggests a pillow fort

Andy. he secretly wants to give Eddie the childhood he’s certain, by piecing together a lot of clipped information, the man never had. so, he’ll make sure he’s already halfway down with it in the living room when Eddie comes home because then they might as well finish it and sleep there, right?

who builds the pillow fort

Andy starts it, Eddie watches and considers whether he’s going to participate. then Andy smiles at him and asks if he can help tie up a blanket to make one of the walls and yeah, Eddie’s building it too.

who tries to distract the other during the movie

Andrew Fucking Haldane. stupid fucking horny man does not have the attention span for movies. he’s impossible. luckily, he’s polite and will just entertain himself, running his hands up Eddie’s sides and kissing his neck even if Eddie himself wants to know whether Dorothy makes it to the Emerald City or not.

who falls asleep first

Eddie. in the marines, you have a time when you sleep and it is limited. he lays down, shuts his eyes, switches off his problems, and sleeps. dead to the world, he’ll be up at six. Andy doesn’t have trouble falling asleep usually but he can be known to lie awake and think too hard. Eddie’s occasionally found him downstairs reading the newspaper or pacing or sipping tea at the early hours when he’s really stressed. (and hiding it as best he can.)

who is big spoon/little spoon

both. Eddie will happily wrap himself around Andy protectively and just listen to the man talk. he’ll squeeze him tight and breathe deeply so Andy can feel it and simply let him know he’s there, he’ll keep them safe. when Andy’s the big spoon, he’ll kiss the back of Eddie’s neck and whisper in his ear and thread their fingers together. he tells Eddie that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be and how warm he feels and wonder what they’ll get up to tomorrow.  they also both like to come up behind each other for a standing-spoon, if you will.

coffee, junkfood, movie night pick ones here

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 10

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Oakland and Portland, May 27th

Emma felt the mattress dip slightly behind her.  She curled in on herself but there wasn’t much room in the bunks of the bus for her to completely avoid whomever it was.  It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try though, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and not making a peep.

“I’m not going away until you tell me something,” Ruby sighed.  She shifted and Emma felt her stretch out next to her, “You can’t avoid it forever.  It might help to talk about it.”

“What’s there to say?” She asked dully. “It’s all over the internet.”

From the moment she’d stormed out of the office building she’d been hounded by paparazzi.  Her Instagram was full of comments that ran the gamut from cussing her out for kicking Killian off the tour to cussing her out over the leaked, and very edited, audio from her ranting at Walsh.  Will had informed her with an impressed grin that she’d been trending on Twitter for two days along with the hashtag MissHighandMighty.  The only good thing that had happened was Regina was too busy putting out fires to rail at her in person over what she probably saw as her failings and shortcomings.  Instead she’d received and ignored multiple texts that clearly communicated Regina’s increasing frustration with her.  She’d blocked Killian’s number completely.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ruby chided.  She paused, “He’s been calling me, asking what happened.  I’ve been letting them go to voicemail, mostly because I don’t know if you want me to answer or what really happened actually, but even if I did I wouldn’t say anything.  Chicks before dicks and all.”

Emma felt herself smile, her first real one in three days, “Yeah, but that’s how you like it.  Dorothy okay with you being out here?”

“Eh-” she could feel Ruby’s shoulders lift behind her in a shrug, “She knew I’d be touring when we first hooked up.  We just got a few extra weeks before it actually happened.  She wasn’t too happy with the drop everything and catch a red eye to LA part of it all, though.  We were about to go on a date, by the way, so thanks for that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling a bit guilty.

“You can make it up to us later,” Ruby said matter of factly. “Nice attempt at a deflection by the way.”

“Thought I’d try,” she muttered.

“And if I was Tink it might have worked but I’m not so it didn’t.  Time to spill.”

She closed her eyes.  It was just one of the many moments she’d been dreading since seemingly everything in her life had imploded.  In a sort of grim twist of luck it was going to be one of the easier of the conversations she knew needed to happen.  With a resigned sigh she opened her eyes and turned onto her back, though she kept her gaze trained on the underside of the bunk above her.

“How much did you know?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Did Regina tell you I’d only go for it if you were the one to bring him in?  Did he flirt and flatter his way into getting you to agree to helping him re-jumpstart his career through me?”

Ruby let out a harsh burst of air, clearly surprised by her question.  She could almost feel the glare aimed at her but kept her eyes focused upward.

“If you really thought that you wouldn’t have made me fly all the way out here to replace him,” Ruby said harshly.  Then she sighed, “I didn’t know what plans Regina had for him or his career but I did know that he’d signed with her.  It’s why she didn’t put up a fight when I suggested he take my place on the tour.  I thought you knew that.”

“No.  I clearly didn’t,” she said shortly.

Ruby sighed again, “Okay, but to be fair it also wasn’t this big secret.  He was just a substitute guitarist, you even told him that.”

“Yeah, well, he turned out to be more,” Emma muttered, hating the catch in her throat.

“Emma-” Ruby lifted herself up on her elbow and hovered over her, her eyes wide, “Did you fall for him?”

“No. We were just…”

She couldn’t force the words ‘having fun’ off her tongue.  Instead she gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping Ruby would get the idea.  That Ruby’s first instinct was dead on wasn’t something Emma wanted to dive into.

Ruby narrowed her eyes and studied her before smirking and flopping back down beside her, “Whatever you two were ‘just’ doing it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ fucking.”

Emma couldn’t help twitching at Ruby’s matter of fact statement.  She hadn’t known that Ruby was a goddamn psychic.  Looking over at her suspiciously she was annoyed to see Ruby looking like a cat that got the canary.

“What did Tink tell you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Tink,” Ruby said with a sing-song tone, “Will has been complaining non-stop about having to share a room with Tink.  Apparently glitter ruins a man’s reputation.”

“He’s with Belle, he shouldn’t be worrying about his reputation,” Emma grumbled.  Then she sobered, “He’s not telling everyone about that is he?”

Ruby’s grin faded, “You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t know what anyone wouldn’t do anymore,” she whispered.

“Emma-” Ruby turned onto her side and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, “I’m on your side, always, but you haven’t even given Killian the chance to explain himself.”

She scoffed, “You haven’t heard what Walsh actually told me.  He said that Regina was the one that told him to bring up Killian getting back into music.  She had to have planned it all out with Killian at that goddamn lunch, gotten his okay to do it that way.  There’s fucking pictures of them shaking on it right before Regina came to the studios.”

That had been the final blow.  She had been in line at a grocery store the day after the disastrous interview, waiting to buy emergency Milk Duds and microwave popcorn.  Killian had been calling and texting her with increased frequency and she’d ignored them all.  Her phone had started buzzing in her hand again and in her fumbling to pull it out of her pocket she’d dropped the Milk Duds.  When she’d bent to pick them up her gaze had caught on a tabloid with a blown up picture of Killian, Regina and Robin seated on the patio of a restaurant, the remains of their meal strewn across the table.  Killian and Robin had been shaking hands while Regina looked on in satisfaction.  Emma had dumped the candy and popcorn into a basket of french bread and fled the store, blocking Killian’s number as she did.

“There’s pictures of them sharing a meal,” Ruby said, being annoyingly pragmatic, “And that was a paparazzi shot, so you don’t know that they were plotting anything.”

“He never told me Regina was going to be there,” she said harshly. “I was almost willing to hear Killian out, eventually.  He kept calling and texting and I thought maybe I should give him a chance to explain.  Then I saw that fucking picture.  I asked him what he was going to do that day and he lied straight to my face.  He said he was hanging out with Robin and his son.  No mention of Regina or lunch meetings or that he had even started recording again.  He’s lied to me at least twice that I know of and I have no idea how many more he’s told me since we met.”

She was breathing heavily and as much as she wanted to yell, scream out her frustrations and heartbreak, she was all too aware of the others on the bus waiting for her to do just that.  Tink and Will had been watching her closely for days and while deep down she knew they’d never blab to reporters or post anything on social media they also weren’t the ones she wanted to talk to.  Ruby had been her friend the longest and should have been the perfect person to unload on but Emma still felt like a powder keg, ready to explode.  With a heavy heart she realized that the one person she wanted to vent to was the one person she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“So you’re just going to ignore him?  You never want to know what was really going on?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I can find that out from Regina.  She’s underhanded and does things on her own terms but she never lies about it.  At least not when you ask her straight up,” she said bitterly.

“And don’t you think Killian would too?”

A week earlier she would have been absolutely sure how she would have answered.  Instead she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her and she’d yet to find her footing.

“I’m just not ready to talk to him yet,” she hedged, knowing Ruby would keep at her like a dog with a bone. “Can we just… not talk about it at all anymore?”

“Okay,” Ruby acquiesced after a small pause where she’d merely looked at her, “but can I ask one more thing?”

Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine.  What?”

“Were you happy?”

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest.  She thought back to the couple of times that she’d woken up before him, able to look at him without a suggestive wag of his eyebrows or salacious twinkle in his eye.  There were the nights they stayed up too late, either on the bus or in their room, talking about everything and nothing.  He’d made soundchecks less of a chore as he joked around with Will or teased Tink about the romance novel that was always sitting on top of whatever flat surface was nearest.  Then there’d been the moments when she’d look at him only to find him already watching her with a soft smile that she was helpless to return.

The memories only made the sting of his betrayal hurt all the more.

“I really, really was.”

For the first time since her world came crumbling down she let herself cry.  She’d held herself together with nothing more than stubborn will and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with the next show.  As she curled into Ruby’s arms with heaving sobs she vaguely realized it might not have been the best strategy.

Slowly, and nearly a whole box of tissues later, Emma regained control of herself.  Ruby was still curled around her, gently rubbing her back.  She was vaguely aware that at some point Ruby had been whispering to her but she had no idea what she’d been saying.  It didn’t matter much, not when just being there meant more to her than anything Ruby could have said.

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmured, her voice wavering and her nose sounding stuffed.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock of her hair, “You’re just lucky this was a tour shirt you ruined with all your snot and tears.”

Emma snorted and pulled back but only got an inch away before Ruby crushed her back to her.  She sighed in annoyance even though she hadn’t really wanted to leave the comfort of her embrace.

“You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, even as she relaxed.

“Eh, there’s still a few hours until it’s absolutely necessary,” Ruby said, squeezing her harder.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Babe, you just cried out all of your bodily fluids.  If anything you’ll need a Gatorade but I’ll just yell at Will until he brings it to us-” Ruby scoffed.  Emma felt her tense slightly before she asked quietly, “Do you want me to block Killian’s number?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes.  She felt like she should want to cut Killian out of her life completely.  To make him feel even a sliver of the hurt and uncertainty she was feeling.  However there was something deep inside her that recoiled from that idea, that despite the hell she was going through she still cared enough about him to want to minimize his pain.

“No,” she sniffled, “He’s your friend too.”

“Not right now he’s not.  I mean, I still think you should hear him out but maybe he kinda deserves the cold shoulder for a week or two.”

She shrugged, knowing that Ruby would probably ice Killian out for a month instead.  Which, of course, meant that after that she would most likely put all her energy in encouraging him not to give up.  Then Ruby would simultaneously be wearing her down to get her to call him.  Even thinking about that probable future had her wanting to delete Killian’s number completely, if only to stave off the inevitable.

She fished her phone out from under the tangle of blankets.  While she hadn’t turned it off completely she’d put it on silent and had pretty much ignored every text and email notification since the Walsh audio had leaked.  Regina had told her she’d take care of it and Emma trusted her just enough to believe that she would.

After unlocking it she was greeted with the continued barrage of messages she’d been expecting.  Unable to hold back her frustrated sigh she gave up the pretense of trying to hide what she was doing and pulled out of Ruby’s arms to prop herself up to deal with the never ending tidal wave of texts and emails.  She could feel Ruby’s gaze over her shoulder but made no move to hide her screen, even in the best of times it was hard to keep her from snooping.

Scanning through the emails first she was glad to see that most of it was spam.  A few were from Mary Margaret or David and she suspected that half the texts would be from them too.  There was only one from Regina, though it had been sent at the beginning of the shit hitting the fan telling her to keep a low profile while everything was dealt with.  With grim satisfaction she proceeded to delete the spam, glanced over the ones from Mary Margaret and David with a touch of guilt at their concern and her lack of communication with them.

The texts were another matter completely.  She had been right in thinking that half were from Mary Margaret and David, reiterations of the support and concern from their emails but a touch more frantic as they progressed.  After sending them a quick message that she was alive and would call them once they got to the hotel she grimaced at the ten unread messages from Regina.  Having one message go unread from her was bad enough and Emma knew that when she finally responded Regina would probably reach through the phone and rip her heart out.

The first couple were innocuous, more warnings for her to lie low and to ignore whatever reporters might show up at her hotel or the venue.  Several were updates on how things weren’t progressing with the fight against Walsh.  Then there were the admonishments and disappointment at her continued insistence to keep Killian off the tour.  The final text was a directive: Answer your goddamn phone, that had Emma wincing and noticing for the first time the little indicator that she had voicemails to listen to.  Throwing Ruby a worried glance she tapped on the icon and prepared for the worst.

You have six new voice messages.  To listen to your messages press one- 

Message one:

“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to take legal action but be prepared for the possibility that we will.  We also need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-  

Message two:

“I don’t appreciate having to leave another voicemail along with the unanswered texts.  Walsh has agreed to issue an apology and his employer is sending him on an unpaid leave of absence for a month.  I would have preferred a firing but they will be generously donating to a charity of your choice and will be giving you final say in your future interviewers if we ever decide to return.  We still need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one- 

Message three:

“Reviews for last night’s show could have been better.  This wouldn’t have been an issue if Ms. Lucas had more than twenty-four hours notice to begin rehearsing.  I am still waiting to hear what happened with Jones.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message four:

“Emma, sweetheart, I just want you to know that David and I both love you very much and we’re here for you.  Call either of us back when you can.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message five:

“I am beginning to lose my patience with you, Miss Swan.  You are not my only client and neither is Mr. Jones.  I cannot do my job if you do not answer your phone.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message six:

“I will be flying up to Portland to discuss matters with you in person.”

End of message. To erase this message press-

Emma hung up and dropped her hand to her lap.  She was screwed.  Regina was a nightmare to deal with when she was irritated but still in a forgiving mood.  In the last message she had sounded beyond pissed and was likely to be even more so by the time they were in the same room together.  Especially since she had told her that she wasn’t intending to rejoin the tour until the final show in Vancouver.

“From the look on your face you probably didn’t hear any good news,” Ruby said cautiously.

“Sorta,” she murmured, “Walsh is going to publicly apologize but he’s really only getting a slap on the wrist as punishment.”

“Asshole,” Ruby snarled.

Humming her agreement she turned her phone over and over in her hands.  She contemplated calling Regina to try and get some of the yelling that was bound to happen over with.  The only problem was if Regina was meeting them in Portland then she was most likely on a flight and wouldn’t be able to answer her phone.  There was no way she was going to play phone tag and end up pissing her off even more than she already was.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Ruby was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Is it Killian?”

“Blocked his number, remember?” She sighed tiredly. “I’m pretty sure Regina’s going to murder me when we get to Portland.”

“Regina’s going to be in Portland?  I thought her royal ass wasn’t going to be around until Vancouver.”

“Well, looks like I’ve made her mad enough to change her plans.”

“Shit,” Ruby breathed, “Sucks to be you.”

She huffed out a half-amused laugh, “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” she chirped, gleefully. “So, you’ve got at least a few more hours left to live.  Wanna see how much money we can take Will for?”

“Blackjack or Hold-Em?” She asked, already crawling over her to get out of the bunk.

“Hold-Em,” Ruby said with a devious grin, following her, “He has the most obvious tell I’ve ever seen.  Someone should really tell him.”

A few hours, a couple of hundred miles and one pissed off Will Scarlet later the bus pulled up to their hotel in Portland.  For the most part Emma was able to keep her mind off of everything that had been dragging her down.  It helped that her focus had to stay on her cards while ensuring that Will’s boasting morphed into irritated grumbling until he’d finally thrown down his final hand in disgust and stomped off to his bunk a few more dollars poorer.

As she tallied up her half of the take she warily eyed the front entrance of the hotel.  She’d almost convinced herself that Regina would have been waiting for her, pacing like a caged tiger, ready to strike.  Instead she found herself looking at a couple of bored valet attendants and a few of the other guests entering and leaving, some slowing to gape at the bus as it came to a stop.  To her great relief there were no reporters or paparazzi in sight, unlike their hotel in Oakland.

“I’ll let the front desk know we’re here,” Tink volunteered, popping out of her bunk like a jack in the box.

Before Emma could thank her she had already skipped down the stairs and was making her way into the hotel.  Shaking her head at Tink’s boundless energy she stood herself, stretching out her road weary muscles.  Just as she was about to move to gather up her stuff to take up to the room she caught sight of Regina striding out of the hotel’s entrance.  The furious look on her face made Emma’s stomach drop to her toes.

“Uh, you guys should go,” she called out, keeping her eyes on the advancing Regina.

“You already drained me dry and now you’re makin’ demands?  I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Will scoffed, his voice muted.

She felt Ruby come up behind her, “I’ll just wait for- oh.  Will, let’s go!”

“What the bleedin’ hell for?” He growled, she heard him drop from his bunk and stomp towards them, “It’ll take Tink at least twenty minutes to get everythin’ all sorted out and since I’m bunkin’ with the crew, thanks to you and that wanker havin’ a row-”

“If your accommodations aren’t to your liking Mr. Scarlet-” Regina said icily as she ascended the stairs into the bus, “I can arrange for something more suitable, a Triple A recommended motel perhaps?”

Looking over at Will she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard before grinning cheekily, “Ah, won’t be necessary, luv, seein’ as motels never have a decent bar.  Shall we, Red?”

Ruby looked torn.  Emma nodded, giving her the okay to leave even though she desperately wanted her to stay.  Unfortunately she knew that Regina would lay into her no matter who was there to witness it.  Regina had already made it clear that she was annoyed that Ruby had replaced Killian.  If Ruby stuck around she’d most likely fight on Emma’s behalf and get sent back to Maine for her trouble.  The last thing she wanted was to give Regina the opportunity to bring Killian back on.

Will had already left the bus and Ruby followed reluctantly, her gaze narrowed at Regina’s back until she disappeared out the door.  Steeling herself Emma waited for the oncoming tirade.

“Have a seat Miss Swan,” Regina said icily, brushing past her and sitting down at the bus’ small table.

“A please would be nice,” she muttered, low enough to not be heard while doing as she was told.

Regina watched her silently.  Emma fought against the urge to fidget, feeling a lot like she was an unruly student about to be reprimanded by the principal.

“Mr. Hoakley’s apology has been released-” Regina began without preamble, “His producer and the company have also issued their statements.  Unfortunately, the edited audio is still being circulated despite the original recording and a transcript being released and you’re still trending negatively on Twitter.  We haven’t seen any major drop in overall sales or requests for ticket refunds but there has been a dip.  Enough of one that the label is insisting that you release a statement of your own.”

“What?  I-”

“I am talking Miss Swan, you will only listen,” Regina said sharply.  She paused, clearly waiting for her to try and argue.  When she didn’t she continued, “I have already written the response which will be posted to your Instagram today along with a photo from the tour.  You will also be doing a live session tomorrow morning to answer fan questions.  The questions will be chosen and looked over beforehand to prevent any more mishaps.  If everything goes well we should see a solid bounce back by the time we reach Vancouver.

“Now, concerning Mr. Jones-”

“I could have kicked him off the tour at any time, we put it in the fucking contract,” she said hotly, annoyed at having been dressed down and feeling defensive over the decision she still wasn’t sure about.

Regina’s brown eyes flashed, “Yes, which saved you from being dropped from the label entirely.”

“Wh-” Emma could feel the blood draining from her face, “What?”

“Despite what you may think you are not as indispensable to them as to take the liberties you already have.  The fiasco with Mr. Hoakley was bad enough and while you were in the right the label saw your combativeness as a strike against you.  Dropping Mr. Jones from the tour at the same time was a misstep that jeopardized both your careers.  Yours more so than his.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  How is that fair?” She asked in disbelief, feeling irate heat crawling up her neck.

“It isn’t, but that’s how this industry works, Miss Swan,” Regina said flatly. “Mr. Jones is an established artist with a built in fan base and therefore guaranteed record sales.  His past troubles are well documented and any misstep he could make wouldn’t come as a surprise even with his turnaround and the years spent in reclusivity.  You, on the other hand, have only begun to bring in returns on the investments the label has made.  Having Mr. Jones on the tour was his tacit endorsement of you and could have drawn a new demographic of listeners to your music.  Instead you’ve made it appear as though you were doing him some great favor instead of the other way around.”

“I don’t need his or anyone’s help,” she growled. “I’ve already made it this far on my own.”

“You made it to open mic nights and small bookings at bars on your own.  A world you are closer to returning to than you think,” Regina warned. “I suggest addressing how thankful you are that the label has been supporting you during this time.  It’ll be a step towards getting back in their good graces.”

“This is ridiculous-” she threw up her arms in frustration, “I did nothing wrong and I’m getting punished for it.”

“Again, this is how things work and you are not the only one being reprimanded for your behavior,” Regina snapped.

She frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I have been in meetings and taking phone calls for the past three days fighting on solely your behalf-” for the first time Regina seemed to soften, a wry twist to her lips. “There is nothing worse than trying to convince a group of old, out of touch, decidedly male record executives to consider for a moment what a young woman in the industry has to deal with on a daily basis.  Let alone trying to explain the capriciousness of social media trends.  Regardless what you may think, I am on your side Emma.”

“Wait, I’m confused-” she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, “You just spent the last fifteen minutes chewing me out.”

“And you spent the last three days ignoring my calls-” Regina said pointedly. “If you’d actually answered any of them I might have been more patient in explaining everything to you.”

“So if I’d answered you would have been less of a bitch?” She asked sardonically.

Regina pursed her lips and glared at her, “Seeing as I’m the one currently keeping your ass out of the fire I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“So, I post my statement and do an awkward live thingy to get things back on track,” she said in lieu of apologizing.  There was no way in hell she was going to give Regina the satisfaction. “Anything else?”

“We still need to discuss what happened with Jones,” Regina said with a raised eyebrow, folding her hands together on the table.

“Jesus,” she muttered under her breath.  Dropping her head back she sighed, “Do we really or can we pretend we did and go get drunk at the bar instead?”

There was a pregnant pause before Emma heard Regina shifting in her seat, as though she were uncomfortable.  Curious she swung her head back down and was surprised to see an almost concerned look on Regina’s face.  She must have let her confusion show because Regina rolled her eyes.

“We may not exactly be friends, Emma, but I do have your best interests at heart.  What happened with Jones the day of the interview? You were eager to be done with the day and back with him as soon as possible, then a few hours later you dropped him from the tour and cut off all communication.  As your manager I need to know if there’s going to be any issues in the future that can be quietly dealt with now-” the concerned look returned, “As someone who worries about you I want to know that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you.”

Emma burst into laughter, unable to help herself.  She should have known that Regina would have no clue why she’d practically fallen apart.  In Regina’s mind she was merely doing her job of getting her clients’ careers to the next level.  It wouldn’t have occurred to her that she might have been the reason for it all going to shit.

Catching sight of Regina’s bewildered stare threw Emma into a fresh gale of laughter.  As tears of mirth streamed down her face she fought to catch her breath and wondered almost idly if she’d finally lost her damn mind.  Several minutes passed before she was finally able to get ahold of herself and look Regina in the eye.

“Are you quite finished?” Regina asked, clearly exasperated.  At her nod she leaned forward, “Now, will you please tell me what it is I said that had you laughing like a madwoman?”

“Do you worry about me or my career?” She said instead of answering, quirking her lips in a wry smile.  Regina’s brows drew down in consternation and Emma sighed, knowing they were only heading towards a fight, “Killian didn’t do anything.  He got what he wanted out of touring with me so it was time for him to go.  End of story.”

“That sounds more like the middle of the story-” Regina leaned forward, “Explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she sighed, completely over the conversation. “Being on tour got him back in the saddle or taking that first giant leap or whatever.  He’s working on new, amazing stuff with the hit-maker Robin Locksley, which is what you want from a new client.  Right?  So I let him go and we’re both moving onto bigger and better things.  Everyone’s a winner.  Can I please go get a drink now?”

Regina had slowly straightened in her seat during her small tirade.  She was sitting rigidly, looking at her with an unreadable expression.  After a moment she shook her head, Emma somehow felt it was in disappointment, and stood from the table.

“I’ll send you the statement to post and options for the photo to go along with it.  The live Q and A needs to happen before nine tomorrow morning, I will be sending along the pre-approved questions as well.  Stick to those and hopefully you’ll come out of this relatively unscathed.”

Emma stared up at her, almost annoyed she hadn’t pushed the Killian issue further, “Okay…”

“Have a good evening, Miss Swan.” With that Regina strode off.  Emma watched her go, flabbergasted by the abrupt departure when Regina stopped at the top of the stairs leading off the bus and turned back, “Just so you know, Mr. Jones is refusing to do any work on the album the label has him on contract for.  Mr. Locksley, a close, personal friend of his I believe, is having difficulties convincing him to even pretend to work on it to appease the label.  He is perilously close to being in breach of contract with them and is refusing to answer my calls as I try to salvage what’s left of his career.  But everyone's a winner, right?”

Regina didn’t wait for her to answer, stepping down off the bus without any further acknowledgement.  Emma sat there with a growing sense of unease, staring blankly at the spot that Regina had been standing.  The part of her that hadn’t wanted to see Killian in pain was trying to twist Regina’s words into lies, make everything she’d said another ploy to boost sales or something, anything to keep her mind clear of the idea that Killian was sabotaging himself for her.  Yet the longer she sat there the more her unease grew, knowing that what Regina had said was exactly something that Killian would do.

Antsy she got up from the table and paced between it and her bunk.  She no longer wanted a drink, just the thought of drowning her sorrows and problems had her remembering Killian’s hard fought for sobriety to face his own issues head on.  With each pass she made in the small space she teetered back and forth between believing Regina and vilifying her, both of which would have her making decisions she wasn’t ready to make.

Groaning in frustration she dove into her bunk, wanting nothing more than to hide away there and hope that everything would just fix itself.  Her self pitying was interrupted by a phone buzzing at her hip.  Reaching underneath her she pulled it out, expecting to see her old, battered but still functional phone and instead found her fingers wrapped around Ruby’s practically new iPhone in its protective red case.  Surprised that she’d left it behind Emma flipped the phone over to see who was calling.  When she saw Killian’s name on the screen she nearly threw it across the bus.

She eyed the still buzzing phone like it was a snake about to strike.  There were a million reasons for her to ignore it, to let it go to voicemail and have Ruby give her the gist of the message.  There was only one reason for her to answer and it was that that had her swiping up and pressing the phone to her ear before she could think better of it.

“Thank god,” Killian sighed in relief, the sound shooting straight to Emma’s heart, “Ruby, lass, I don’t know what’s going on and I won’t ask but please, just tell me that Emma’s alright.  I’ll stop calling, anything, I just... please, I just need to know.”

Her breath had backed up in her throat at the plea in Killian’s voice.  He also sounded exhausted, his accent dragging across the words much like they had when they’d stayed up too late, nose to nose talking the night away.  The memory had her breath hiccuping out of her in a half sob.

“What’s wrong?  Is it Emma?  Ruby, is she okay?”

His panicked questions had her biting her cheek to get a hold of herself.  She closed her eyes and gripped the phone as though her life depended on it.

“I’m okay, Killian.”

“Swan?” He breathed and she could hear his unfolding hope in the single word, “Love, is that you?”

“It’s me,” she whispered.

“Swan, Emma, I…” he huffed in either frustration or disbelief she wasn’t sure, “Dammit, love, I had so many things I wanted to say and now I can’t think of a single thing.”

She took in a shuddering breath, “Just tell me why.”

“Why?  Why what?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you were trying to get your big comeback?  That’s all this was, wasn’t it?  You could have just told me that.  You didn’t have to lie to me,” she had tried to keep her tone even, unaffected, but had ended on a growl nonetheless.

“I never lied,” he said vehemently.  She scoffed and he made a strangled noise, “Emma, listen to me, when have I lied?  Yes, I admit, being on the tour may have begun as a stepping off point but it became more than that.  We became more than that.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie, Killian,” she said emphatically.  She couldn’t focus on how heartfelt he’d sounded when talking about them, not when he’d also confirmed everything she’d been worrying about. “It’s not like it matters anyway, you got what you want.  Your name’s back out there, people are interested.  Congrats on the record contract by the way.”

“None of that bloody matters to me,” he snapped. “If you’d just listen-”

“No,” she said, cutting him off, “You had your chance to explain when you first auditioned.”

“Emma-” his voice cracked, “please.”

“I- I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you-” her voice wavered, tears lodged in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

She cut off the call but not before she heard him say her name once more.  The phone immediately began buzzing in her hand but she swiped to ignore the call, quickly shutting off the phone completely to resist the temptation to answer.  She then curled into a ball and gave into her tears.

[365days365movies]

April 11, 2021: Tootsie (1982) (Recap)

To be clear, I like Dustin Hoffman.

I can’t exactly claim that I’ve seen him in a lot of his most iconic roles, but I’m planning on fixing that this year for sure! On my to-watch list this year and beyond is Midnight Cowboy, Kramer vs. Kramer, Stranger Than Fiction, and Marathon Man at the very least.

But that’s not to say I haven’t seen him in other iconic roles of his, of course. Fun fact: I actually tried to do this project in 2019, and it...didn’t work. But, one of the films I watched that year was one of Hoffman’s most iconic dramatic films: Rain Man.

Oh, and by the way, that movie is not about an autistic man. Or, rather, it’s not based on a man diagnosed with one of the autism spectrum disorders. Instead, he actually most likely had a genetic disorder called FG syndrome, unrelated to the spectrum disorders. Ironic, since Hoffman’s character was the pop-cultural depiction of autism that people STILL refer to quite often, and quite inaccurately. But, obviously, that’s not Hoffman’s fault, and he was good in the movie, to be fair.

I grew up with him in Hook, as the pirate captain himself (I still do his laugh sometimes, it’s weird, I know). He had an underappreciated starring role in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure films, Outbreak (I fucking love that movie, and I’m not ashamed to admit that). He was in Finding Neverland, but I just forgot about that until I looked up his filmography to write this intro. And, of course...Master Shifu.

So, yeah, I actually DO like Dustin Hoffman, despite the fact that his role in The Graduate wasn’t stellar for me. Just seemed kinda miscast, and a little too awkward to be even slightly sympathetic. Then again, he wasn’t really meant to be, so maybe Hoffman was the perfect choice. Even then, he still acted well in it.

And anyway, I watched that movie for two major reasons. One, it was on my list of films to see, and TWO: it was a lead-up to the ACTUAL Hoffman film I wanted to watch this month: Tootsie. After all, I just watched rom-com Some Like It Hot, and if you’ve looked at me schedule, you know what film is coming next. So, this one fits in my planned schedule. Why? Well...there’s a theme.

Yup. I actually picked these movies for a reason. See, here’s the thing: this is a repeated trope in comedies, and I’ve always wondered whether or not it’s...problematic. But, much to my surprise with Some Like It Hot, they actually used the situation to comment on the female experience. I mean, not necessarily really well, but they tried at the very least. And for a film from 1959, that ain’t bad!

Which isn’t to say that it’s entirely clean, of course, but it was far better than I’d expected. So, if 1959 did that OK, how did 1982 do? Let’s find out, shall we?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) is an acting coach, as well as being an actor himself. However, he’s not the most successful actor, as he keeps attempting to audition for pieces, only to get refused for nebulous reasons, or refuses them when he disagrees with the director. He might want to take his own advice, for the record.

In the meantime, he works in a restaurant with Jeff Slater (Bill Murray), a playwright and roommate. That night, the night of his birthday, he spends time with an actress friend, Sandy Lester (Teri Garr), and also hits on the majority of women there that night.

As the party concludes, and various people go home, Sandy is abandoned by her date, and Michael offers to take her home. She breaks down crying, and Michael guesses that she’s upset about an upcoming audition. He gives her some coaching advice, and manages to get her to produce the correct emotion for the role. Afraid that she’ll lose it without him, he agrees to accompany her to the audition and enrage her. It’s very funny.

That morning, however, she IMMEDIATELY gets kicked out of the audition, as she wasn’t right for the part. However, when he goes to help her by speaking with an actor on the show, he finds out that the actor is off the show, and is instead getting a part that MICHAEL was supposed to get. Now enraged himself, he goes to speak with his agent, George Fields (Sydney Pollack), and the two have a tense conversation. It’s revealed that because of his difficult nature, he has a terrible reputation in acting circles, and literally nobody will hire him.

Challenge accepted.

Now dressed up as a woman named “Dorothy Michaels”, he goes back to the audition that passed on Sandy. Like her, he’s also immediately rejected by the director, Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman), who insists that she’s too “gentile” for the part of a hospital administrator. This causes “Dorothy” to go off, in a righteous monologue that accuses Ron for conflating power with masculinity. Which...yeah, he totally is, and DAMN, it’s a good tell-off!

Producer Rita Marshall (Doris Belack) agrees, and invites “Dorothy” to read for the part. He comes in to read, and in the process meets Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), to whom he’s IMMEDIATELY attracted. He brushes that off, and the audition commences. From there, he gets the part, which is a regular part on a soap opera called Southwest General.

Now fully invested in the dumbest idea anybody’s ever had, “Dorothy” goes to her agent and tells him the ridiculous news, and asks for $1000 to go shopping for more clothing. Back at their apartment, Michael speaks to Jeff about the whole situation. He notes that he’s doing this to get the money for his play in Syracuse, which requires $8000 to produce.

Sandy is to be cast in this play, which is an issue, as they now need to explain where the money came from, as it’s technically from the part that SHE was refused for, which would hurt her feelings. He lies and says that the money’s from a deceased relative. While in her place, and while she’s in the shower, he decides to try on some of her clothes to get ideas for Dorothy. But when she walks in on him, he lies AGAIN and says that he’s sexually attracted to her. And she reciprocates IMMEDIATELY, which leads to an unintended relationship.

On the set, “Dorothy” finds out that he’ll be kissing John Van Horn (George Gaynes), an older actor who’s clearly a bit past his prime, and makes it a point to kiss every actress on the set when they start on the show. Gross. Michael agrees, and when the scene comes, he improvises and has his character (Emily) hit the doctor instead.

While the director (who’s a DICK, by the way) notes the improvisation, he approves of it, while also discouraging any similar actions in the future, and calling her “toots”. “Dorothy” takes it, rather than talks back. John compliments her on the improvisation, and then kisses “Dorothy” anyway, much to Michael’s shock!

We also find out that Julie, who plays a nurse on the show, is dating director Ron. Later on, though, Michael observes him making out with another actress on stage. Shortly after this, Julie invites “Dorothy” to dinner at her place, which is eagerly accepted. At dinner, we find out that Julie has a young daughter and that her relationship with Ron is...not stellar.

They have a discussion about being a woman in the ‘80s, and the complexities inherent in that concept, which is an interesting theme of this movie! Gotta say, this is a more socially-conscious version of Some Like It Hot, and I really like that! But the conversation is cut short when Michael realizes that he’d promised dinner with Sandy that night, and leaves in a hurry.

Dinner with Sandy is awkward, as Sandy is...Sandy is a lot, to be honest. But, she tells Michael that the woman hired in her stead on the soap opera (who is, of course, Michael himself), is written as a wimp, rather than tough as intended, and that she should change that. Michael agrees, and actively goes against the script to make the character of Emily far tougher. and essentially a feminist.

While this causes some grief to Ron and Rita at first, Dorothy Michaels soon becomes a massively successful and popular actress on the show, and her popularity absolutely explodes. Michael’s wrapped up in the success of Dorothy Michaels, and thinks that she might be able to branch outside of the role of the soap opera. Which is difficult, as his agent points out, because of the simple fact that Michael is...well, Michael.

At a party that his agent invites him to, Michael meets Julie AS MICHAEL. He uses a line on her that she’d mentioned before to Dorothy, only to be met with a drink to the face. Which is fair, as the line was about being honest about wanting to have sex with her, so I get it.

On the set soon afterwards, we see that the show is becoming more progressive, allowing Julie’s nurse character to stand up to John’s chief doctor character. After the scene is done, the director once again calls Dorothy “toots” instead of her real name, and Dorothy absolutely snaps back at him, and rightfully so! In response, Julie goes and invites Dorothy to a weekend in the country, on her father’s farm. Despite some rebuke from Jeff for lying to Sandy AND Julie, Michael as “Dorothy” goes on the trip.

This, by the way, is an excellent time to mention that this film is exuding some real strong, uh, vibes. You know...alphabet mafia vibes. Like, it’s definitely there, heavily leaning towards Julie. Obviously, “Dorothy” is actually the heterosexual Michael, but that’s not helping, just saying. And there’s literally (and absolutely obviously) nothing wrong with that, but it’s so strong at this point that it’s hard to ignore.

On the farm, “Dorothy” meets Les Nichols (Charles Durning), Julie’s lonely and genuinely nice father, if a bit old-fashioned in his views on gender politics. He’s also got the hots for “Dorothy”, which is funny-but-awkward as shit. That night, Julie tells “Dorothy” some very personal things about her dreams as a child, which is a genuinely very sweet scene. And can I just say, that this movie is both funny and quite heartfelt? I love it! Also, again, the vibes...THE VIBES.

Meanwhile, the popularity of “Dorothy” continues to skyrocket, to the frustration of director Ron, but to the delight of producer Rita, who decides to extend her contract with the soap opera by a full year! Oh FUCK! Realizing what the hell he’s gotten himself into, Michael calls his agent, who tells him that it was in his contract, meaning he’s basically fucked.

Jeff also tries to help hi, out of it, to no avail. Just then, though, they get a call from Julie, looking for “Dorothy”. She’s been having her doubts about her relationship with Ron, and she realizes that she’s been settling for Ron and other men like him. And Dorothy’s inspired her to be a better person, and to be honest with others and with herself. Fuckin’ OOF.

Just then, Ron arrives, allowing them some alone time, as Julie is getting ready for their night out. In the process, “Dorothy” reveals that she knows about his indiscretions with other women. Ron proceeds to use the EXACT SAME EXCUSE that Michael used to excuse his lies to Sandy, and it’s well-executed! Good job, writers, that’s pretty awesome.

“Dorothy” promises to watch Julie’s daughter for the night, which proves a bit of an issue, but he works it out. Julie returns later on, having broken up with Ron. Another heart-to-heart ensues, but this one is concluded with a revelation that Julie is lonely, despite the fact that she appreciates Dorothy’s influence and friendship. And then, "Dorothy” tries to kiss Julie. OH

Yeah, Julie’s not exactly chuffed about this as, despite a LOT of “Sappho and her friends” vibes, she doesn’t actually swing that way. “Dorothy” tries to explain, but this is interrupted by a call from Julie’s dad! He asks her out on a date that night, and “Dorothy” accepts. On said date, he FUCKIN’ PROPOSES TO HER! She promises to think about it, and takes the fuck OFF.

And to continue the parade of “Fuck me, I guess” that marching down Michael Street, who should show up at the apartment but John, from the show! Having followed her home the previous night (YIKES BUDDY), he literally serenades her outside of the apartment window, before “Dorothy” lets him in. It’s there that he reveals he’s MADLY in lust with her, and it’s HILARIOUSLY awkward. Thankfully, just as John is forcing himself on her, Jeff walks in on them, interrupting John’s actions, and causing him to leave in shame.

AND FUCKING THEN, after all of that, Sandy arrives at the apartment to find out why Michael’s not returned her phone calls. And Sandy’s a lot, sure, but all of her concerns are completely valid and legitimate. And despite Michael’s impressive ability to lie, he tells her the truth: he’s in love with another woman. Which she absolutely freaks the fuck out about, but whatever, not like Michael doesn’t deserve that.

Having had it with all the drama around Dorothy’s life, he goes to his agent and hilariously recounts to him the whole series of events that’s taken place. Still struggling to find a way to get out of the situation, he goes to work the next day, for an awkward conversation with Julie. She thanks Dorothy for inspiring her to be true to herself, which cuts DEEP, but still says that they shouldn’t spend time together anymore.

Producer Rita arrives with news: the erasure of a reel of footage has forced them to shoot a scene live. Said scene involves a party being thrown for Dorothy’s characters, putting her in the starring role. And THAT is when Michael takes his chance. Dorothy improvises a monologue about Emily’s REAL past, as a twin who tragically died before realizing her dream to become a hospital administrator. Ripping off his disguise, Michael reveals himself as Emily’s twin brother, Edward!

Everyone on stage and at home is SHOCKED, especially Les, John, Sandy, and of course, Julie. And once the cameras stop rolling, Julie now understands everything. She walks right up to Michael...AND PUNCHES HIM IN THE DICK

John asks if Jeff knows, and I break in half laughing.

Months pass. Michael was able to fund Jeff’s play in Syracuse, and goes to meet Les, who lives in the area. The two make amends after an understandably awkward reunion, and they begin the journey to become friends after everything. This prompts Michael to return to the city and speak with Julie, who is...less than happy to see him. Which, yeah, entirely fair.

But, again overcoming the initial awkwardness, Julie is able to admit that she misses her friend Dorothy. And Michael reciprocates, speaking for Dorothy, who is...well, him. He says the following great line: 

I was a better man with you as a woman than I ever was with a woman as a man.

And from there...the two decide to rekindle a friendship, with Julie asking to borrow one of Michael’s dresses. And y’know...I’m rooting for those crazy kids.

That’s Tootsie! And, uh...I love it! I LOVE it. I actually think this is a great film, and one of the best I’ve seen this month. But I’ll elaborate...in the Review! See you there!

[ashesonthefloor]

all that counts, is here and now (my universe will never be the same)

summary: Michael bumps into the cute pet store worker named Calum and develops a crush. hijinks and lots of pining ensue. did I mention this was a soulmate au? title taken from Glad You Came by the Wanted. part two can be found here, ao3 link here

content rating: PG-13 (cursing, a couple sex jokes because it’s Michael, and lots and lots of pining)

word count: 9488 in total with the second half

A/N: okay hello my long awaited fanfic is HERE. tumblr is homophobic so it’s split into two parts but both are completely done. big shoutout to both @clumsyclifford and @cliiffords for hyping me up. and ofc a major thank you to miss @calumcest who screamed w me about this and is reviving Malum w me. enjoy!

Michael was already running late. But Southy’s leash had broken five minutes into the walk, and he didn’t have a spare at home for him. So he stopped by the pet shelter that was, thankfully, right on his way. It was actually the same place he’d adopted Moose. He knew most of the workers - despite not being the biggest people person - and he got along with them quite well.

So it was that much more surprising when Michael grabbed his leash - green, to match the collar, Southy deserved to match - and headed up to the counter only to find a stranger. Correction, the most gorgeous, handsome, pretty, amazing stranger he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted in a surprisingly genuine customer service voice. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Uh,” Michael said, ever the eloquent speaker, as he shifted Southy slightly in his hold. “Yeah, thanks. Just needed a leash since Southy’s snapped.”

The stranger had just rung the leash up when he seemed to notice the dog. It was obvious when he saw him, because his face lit up and, if Michael was a sappy person, which he obviously wasn’t, he would’ve said his eyes sparkled. “Is this Southy?”

Michael nodded, shifting him yet again before holding him out to let the man pet him. It turned out to be the right choice as he watched him coo happily over the dog, letting Southy sniff his hand before giving him a good pet. The man - whose name was Calum, according to the name tag he was now at the right angle to notice - seemed to love dogs an awful lot for someone who worked with them.

“Hi, Southy. Are you enjoying your walk? It’s nice out today, I bet you are. I bet you’ll enjoy it more once your leash is all fixed,” Calum talked to the dog, before rubbing his head again before giving Michael another happy grin and god, Michael was pretty sure he was in love. His cheeks squished up when he smiled in a way that Michael had never seen before, and was confident he would never see again. Not only that, but it actually reached his eyes. He looks genuinely happy. “Thanks. I like getting to say hello to our real customers.”

Michael stared at him for just a beat too long before giving him a grin of his own. And maybe he was a little pink. Maybe. “Yeah, no problem. Southy’s pretty relaxed. I’m actually taking him to volunteer at a nursing home right now. Normally my friend is the one with him but I agreed to go this time.” Why did he tell him that? He talked too much.

Calum gave him another smile before smiling at Southy. “I’m sure he’ll be great at it. He seems like a good therapy dog. And just an all around good boy.”

Michael smiled a little more. Calum got it. “He’s trained to be that way.” He frowned suddenly. “Oh, fuck. I was already running late.” He pulled his phone out to glance at the time. “Oh fuck, now I’m really late.” He handed Calum some cash and took the leash when he handed it over. “Keep the change. Uh, nice to meet you, I’ve got to go.”

He turned and moved quickly towards the door, trying not to fumble in front of the cute stranger. He clipped the leash to Southy’s collar and hurried to the nursing home.

————————

As expected, Ashton wasn’t pleased with him for being so late. He’d given him the ‘we’re definitely talking about this later’ look, since he was with one of the residents and couldn’t exactly just start grilling him the way he wanted to. Which spared Michael the awkwardness of having to explain that his alarm hadn’t gone off and then Southy’s leash had broken - he still had no idea how that happened - and then he’d met the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his life who was going to be in his dreams for the next year at least.

“Do you want to explain why you were so late?” Ashton finally had a chance to ask when Southy was curled up on Ethel’s lap, her wrinkled hand shakily stroking his little head. Michael pulled his eyes away to look at Ashton.

“Not really.” Michael enjoyed being difficult sometimes.

“Okay. Explain why you were late and I had to keep everyone in the activity hall for an extra thirty minutes,” Ashton said, leaving much less room for argument. Michael was never sure if he hated it when he did that or if it was kind of amusing just how well he knew him.

“Sure, daddy.” Ashton aimed a kick at his leg, lowkey enough to be missed by the elderly residents. Michael managed to clumsily avoid it, dumb grin still on his lips. The nickname had come up at some point in their friendship and he’d never dropped it, much to Ashton’s chagrin. He was a little more resigned to it now, though he never really appreciated it. Especially at the place he was volunteering. With easily scandalized (probably, Michael wouldn’t really know) old people.

“So I got Southy and we left the apartment. And then his fucking-“ Ashton gave him a look. This was why Michael called him daddy “-leash snapped, so I had to stop by and get a new one. And then I met the love of my life. Ashton, he’s gorgeous. I’m pretty sure he could bench press me if he tried, he has the greatest biceps in the entire world. Better than yours, even. I know, we thought that was impossible. It’s not. And he wanted to pet Southy and he called him a good boy. So yeah, pretty sure he’s the love of my life and now I need to figure out how to propose. Is offering him my still beating heart a little outdated? Should I go with an engagement ring?”

Watching Ashton’s normally well-kept expression shift through like eight different emotions - and probably the four stages of grief - was just a testament to how ridiculous he was being. He considered it a personal achievement. His current record was nine different emotions. Of course, it was Ashton , so half of it was just in the eyes and eyebrows, but it counted.

“So he was cute?” Ashton finally answered, seeing through about nine layers of Michael’s descriptive, hyperbolic imagery. He wasn’t fun anymore.

“Very,” Michael agreed, glancing back over at Southy to make sure he was fine. He looked like he was living his best life with all the attention.

“And now you’re convinced he’s the love of your life?”

“Absolutely.”

Ashton nodded. “Three diamonds.”

“You think? I don’t want it to be flashy. Just something that says ‘hi, I’m in love with you, and your jawline is sharp enough to cut me, and I’d be honoured to let you bend me-”

“Michael,” Ashton warned, glancing over at Dorothy who was looking at them with some sort of amusement. At least she wasn’t scandalized? 

“Okay, okay. I’ll fill you in later, I guess, since you don’t love me.” Michael just gave him a small, dramatic little pout. Ashton was, unfortunately, immune.

“Or you can tell me how in love you’re in with this stranger now, minus all the graphic imagery,” Ashton pointed out, ever the reasonable party. Except when he liked someone. He was just as bad. Worse, Michael would say, but Ashton didn’t agree.

“Fine, fine. He’s gorgeous, Ashton. And he liked Southy. He called him a good boy.”

“Do you even know his name?” Ashton had been through all of Michael’s crushes on random strangers. 

“Calum,” Michael said, a little triumphantly, with a smug little smile.

“Does he know yours?”

Michael went to answer before pausing. He flushed a little. “Oh, fuck, I forgot to do that part. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even tell him my name.”

Ashton just looked at him for a moment. “Are you going to talk to him again?”

The obvious answer should’ve been yes, given that Michael was genuinely interested in getting to know him. And since he was the love of his life, of course. But he hesitated. It would seem weird to just start hanging around the pet shop now, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to freak him out.

Ashton shook his head, clearly mildly exasperated by his best friend. “Alright, We’ll talk about it later.” He smiled, moving forward. “Ready for someone else to have a turn with Southy, Ethel?”

————————

“You should just talk to him if you like him that much,” Ashton said several days later, giving Michael a look that meant he really just knew him way too well.

“I don’t know. He probably forgot about me already.” Michael frowned, taking a bite of the pizza Ashton had been nice enough to order. He knew arguing with Michael was a bit pointless sometimes, so he’d learned to just give in and stop prolonging the inevitable. He loved him. 

“You won’t know unless you go see him. Besides, he still doesn’t know your name. What if he’s thinking about you too and hoping you swing by again?” Michael hated it when Ashton was reasonable. It was helpful, though. But he just liked being dramatic sometimes. 

“I don’t know...” Michael said, taking another bite of pizza. “How often do I really need to go to the pet store? Not that often. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just kept going? And what if he’s not there? There’s so many ways this could go wrong, Ashton, I can’t just keep going and hoping he’s there. That’ll kill my soul.”

“So you’re finally admitting you have one?” Ashton grabbed a slice of his own pizza - Michael still hadn’t managed to convince him that Hawaiian was the best, much to his own chagrin. Michael tried to punch his arm before letting out a much-longer-than-necessary-sigh and leaning back in his chair. “Really, Mikey, just go talk to him.” Ashton’s voice was much gentler this time, expression very knowing. Michael wasn’t sure if he hated it, or he appreciated it. “Tell him your name. Ask him out. I promise you it isn’t as scary as you think it is.”

Michael paused. “What if he says no? They have the best prices and they all know me. I can’t just switch pet stores to avoid him after he inevitably breaks my heart.”

“What happened to proposing? I thought he was the love of your life?” Why did Ashton have to have such a good memory? It was infuriating. “Seriously. Stop by, look at some dog toys, and see if he’s there. If he is, ask him on a date. It’s that simple. You won’t have to switch pet stores. He might say yes. If not, you just ignore him when you go in. It’ll be fine.”

Michael frowned. “Fine. Maybe. But first, I want to beat your ass in Call of Duty.” It wasn’t Michael’s favourite, but Ashton was horrible at it, so it was a little fun just to watch him struggle. They always ended up switching to Mario Kart or FIFA or something so Ashton’s little grandpa ass didn’t struggle so much. He was a nice friend. He loved him, really.

Ashton shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll just even the score later on.”

———————— 

Michael hesitated outside the door to the pet shop. He probably looked like a freak just standing there, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to go in or not. Eventually, he decided that it was. Maybe because he wanted to see his future husband again. Maybe because Ashton would keep annoying him if he didn’t. It was like a 60/40 split between the two.

He finally managed to work up enough confidence to actually go inside. He’d only stood there for a minute or two before he was greeted by the familiar customer service voice.

“Hi! Welcome to Paws and Claws. How can I help you?”

Michael turned to look at the absolute Adonis of a man who had occupied his thoughts since he’d first met him. He saw recognition on his face, and then Calum was smiling a little wider, a little more genuine.

“Glad to see you again! No puppy this time?”

“No,” Michael managed to get out. Had he fixed his hair before he came in? He didn’t think so. He really hoped he did. “He had to stay at home. I think he just wanted a nap.”

“What a shame! He was almost as cute as his owner.” Calum bent over to pick up a dog toy, and Michael definitely didn’t glance down. Calum walked over to put it away, and it wasn’t until then that his words registered and he flushed dark. “So what are you looking for?” Calum asked, looking over at him.

“Uh. They just need a new toy. One of them broke this morning.” Michael really needed to get his shit together. He was being embarrassing.

“Oh no! We can’t have that. What kind of toy do you want?” Why did Calum have to be so goddamn nice? Michael was dying. Or going to die. Or in the middle of dying.

“Anything, I guess. Southy and Moose really like to chew.”

“You have two dogs?” Calum beamed, looking at the array of toys to find a couple that would work.

“Yeah. Southy’s, uh, my ESA. And I wanted another one besides just him.” He wasn’t sure if he should say that. Some people were weird about it. Maybe Calum would think he was a freak now and would never accept his proposal.

“That’s sweet. Southy was really well behaved. And the more the merrier with dogs, I always say. I want another one.” Calum came back over to him. “Here’s some good ones! We’ve gotten some really good reviews on them, and we use them a lot for the dogs we have here.”

“You have a dog?” With how much Calum liked other people’s, he wouldn’t have expected that. It seemed like he was just getting his dog fix through other people. Interesting. “Oh, I only need one.”

Calum beamed. “Yeah. He’s staying with my sister since I just moved into a new apartment and had to work some things out with my landlord to let him stay. I miss him, though.” His cheeks did that cute squishy thing. Michael didn’t know how or why it happened but he was in love with it. “They’re buy one get one free right now. You could get a toy for each dog and make it fair.”

Michael nodded a little bit. “I get that. I get pretty upset if I’m separated from mine.” Poor Calum. He must really miss his dog. “That...yeah, okay.” He didn’t really need more toys. But Calum was a fantastic salesman so he couldn’t really turn him down. He’d already lied and said he needed toys, so why wouldn’t Calum try and sell him some? It made sense. It was fine. He’d just live in an apartment covered in dog toys.

“Perfect! I’ll ring you up.” He led him over to the counter with the toys, scanning both of them.

Now was Michael’s chance. He could tell him his name. And that he was in love with him. “Um. I’m Michael, by the way.”

Calum gave him a sweet smile. “I’m Calum.”

“I know. You’re wearing a name tag,” Michael pointed out. Which turned out to be the right thing to do since Calum flushed a little bit.

“Oh. Right. I forgot i was wearing it,” he said with an embarrassed little laugh. He gave Michael his total and Michael paid, taking the toys from him.

“You should bring your dogs by sometime. We have half off bathing next week.” He gave him another happy smile and gave him a flyer for the next week.

“Right. Yeah. I think I will. Moose could use a bath.”

Another smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

————————

“Isn’t he perfect?” Michael lamented to Ashton later on that evening. There was a long pause from the other side of the phone.

“He sounds great. Like you need to ask him on a date.”

“I can’t do that, Ash! I don’t even know if he likes me. And I can’t just ask him out while he’s at work. I’ll just have to love him from afar until I can propose.”

Ashton was quiet for a moment. “Just ask him out. It sounds like you really like him. More than all your other weird crushes. I think you should ask him out. Or at least see if he’d be interested in grabbing dinner or a coffee or something.”

Michael considered it. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to rush things. He probably doesn’t like me. I’ve just been an idiot in front of him.”

“You’re an idiot in front of everyone. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

“But it probably does. He probably hates me.” Michael frowned. “You’re awful at comfort.”

“I know, it’s my main skill. Being horrible at comfort. I put it on all my resumés.” Michael could hear the smile in Ashton’s voice. He wanted to pretend it annoyed him. But the familiarity was kind of comforting.

“I’ve got to go, Mikey. But I’ll call you tomorrow, right? And you’re still working this weekend? I’ll see you then too.”

“Yeah, I am. Talk to you tomorrow, mate.”

————————

Michael slept in late the next morning. He always did on his days off. He groaned at the noise of his phone going off incessantly. He figured they’d stop calling. And really, there was only one person it could really be. Ashton was the only person that ever really called him. Because he was a fucking grandpa like that. Sometimes it was his mum but really, Ashton was more likely.

The third time he called, Michael finally picked up. “What?” He asked, sleepy and pissed about being woken up.

“Are you watching the news?”

“No. It’s fucking nine in the morning, who watches the news now? Old people. That’s who-“

“Michael, turn the TV on.”

“Ashton, it’s early-“

“I’m serious. You know soulmates?” Of course Michael did. Everyone had to hear about them. They were rare, but they existed. They were people who had what looked like tattoos, indicating who their soulmate was. Supposedly there were quite a few benefits, but no one could decisively say what they were for everyone, given that they were so rare there wasn’t much research they could do.

“No shit I do. What’s up with them?”

“Everyone has a soulmate now. Overnight, something happened. Everyone’s got tattoos and the entire world is up in flames trying to find their soulmate,” Ashton said, voice rushed. “There’s weird catches for some people. They’re saying- be quiet, just a minute.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Fuck. That was kind of a huge deal. He yanked the covers back - fuck, the air was cold. He regretted doing that immediately - and stumbled into the living room. He was pretty much entirely awake now, jolted into the life of the living by the news. He fumbled with the remote to turn the news on.

“-it seems that some people have tattoos of their soulmate’s names. But most people are getting tattoos representative of their soulmates. Something related to them, or something they treasure. There seems to be a catch, however, so that some people are only getting soulmate markings after meeting their soulmate. This is causing global panic as people begin to take time off to search for their soulmates-“

Michael stopped paying attention again. “Do you have one?” He practically demanded.

“I don’t know! I saw what was happening and called you first because I knew you were missing it.” Damn Ashton being a good friend.

“Well go look!”

“Aren’t you going to look for yours?”

“No, I already know I probably have, like, four. Everyone loves me. But you’re unlovable so it’s more important. I need to know it I was right about that.”

He could practically hear Ashton’s eye roll. The next time he spoke, it was echoey. He was in his bathroom. “I found mine,” he said, normally stable voice a little shaky. “It’s on my bicep.”

“Better than it being on your ass,” Michael pointed out.

“Yours will be on your ass if karma has anything to say about it,” Ashton quipped back.

“Hurry up. What is it?”

“It’s a lamington. It’s got writing on it, I think. Fuck. I can’t read it in the mirror.”

“You have a fucking lamington? Who loves lamingtons enough for that? Take a picture of it so you can see the words.” Which was a genius idea. Michael was a genius.

“Fine, give me just a-“

“Wait, don’t do that, just come over here and let me read it.”

There was a beat before Ashton answered. “What? Why? I can just find out now. What’s yours?”

“I haven’t looked yet. Just come over,” Michael practically pleaded. Not that he’d admit it.

Ashton seemed to recognize the tone of Michael’s voice, and that he wanted someone to be there when he looked. That he was scared he wouldn’t actually have a mark and everyone else would get their soulmates except for him.

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten.”

There was the click of the line as Ashton hung up and Michael was left alone again. The news reporters on the TV were the only thing filling the silence, still droning on about the ‘soulmate phenomenon’, as they were calling it. Michael didn’t care. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he pulled his sweatshirt off and saw nothing but pale skin. He wasn’t going to have a soulmate mark. There was a heavy feeling in his gut that told him that. He wasn’t going to handle it well, and he’d ruin Ashton’s enjoyment of having a soulmate. He was an awful friend.

He was pulled out of his self deprecation By a knock at the door. And, dammit, why didn’t Ashton just walk in like Michael did? He walked over to the door to open the door and let Ashton in.

“I can’t believe you made me wait to figure out who my-“ Ashton started, only to be cut off by Michael.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for coming. How do you know where it is?”

“You mean what if it’s on your ass?” Damn Ashton and that smug little smile. He thought he was funny. And okay, maybe it was, but Michael had said it first.

“Fuck off. I mean really.”

“You look, Mikey. I didn’t just magically know where mine was. You have to go somewhere with a mirror and look. Since I’m here now you could just strip, but the mirror option might leave me with my sight intact.”

“Fuck off-“

“You said that already.”

“You’re not getting a strip show for free anyway.” So with that Michael made his way to the bathroom. Passive (and completely pretend) annoyance gave him the energy necessary to lock the door and strip off his sweatshirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, hair messy and sticking up everywhere, and bags under his eyes. Really, fuck Ashton Irwin - and the universe - for waking him up so early.

As far as he could see, there wasn’t a soulmate mark. Not on his neck, or his face. He was still in his shirt, rumpled from sleeping in it, and it made it harder. But he just had that terror, that he would be blank. The entire world was getting soulmates and he was going to be blank. He’d be a freak. He didn’t want to be left out. Especially not on this.

God. He was alone. He didn’t have a soulmate. He was starting to come to grips with that, alone in the bathroom. Fuck. He should’ve just let Ashton break it to him. He could be nice. But this way he could have his breakdown in private. He gripped the sides of the sink, ready to curl down into himself and maybe never come back out. He started leaning down when he froze. Right there, on his forearm, was the mark. He slowly let go of the sink, bringing his arm up in quiet amazement to stare at it.

Holy fuck. He had a soulmate. Out there in the world, somewhere, living, breathing, existing, was his soulmate. Someone was meant for him. He brushed the pad of one finger over it gingerly, as if to test if it was real. It didn’t come off. Which was a good sign.

After affirming that it was real, that he really had a soulmate, he focused on the design. Which was...yeah. That was a thing. It was a happy dog sitting down, his tail mid wag, with numbers right beneath him reading 1251996. That was helpful. He definitely didn’t know anyone that connected to the tattoo. So his soulmate existed, he just didn’t know where they were. Great.

He yanked the door open and came out to look at Ashton. “I have a tattoo,” he said, a little gleefully.

“No shit. What is it?”

“It’s a dog with some weird numbers.”

“Show me.” Ashton held his arm once Michael offered it, looking at the tattoo. “Shit. We’ve got soulmates. Do you know anyone-“

“No. I’ve never seen the dog in my life and I have no idea what the numbers mean. Is my soulmate a fucking prisoner?”

“I don’t know. You’ve had it for all of an hour, don’t be so negative. I’m sure you’ll find your soulmate. Maybe you’ll get a nice tingle when you meet him-“

“Shut up, Ashton. What’s yours say?”

Ashton rolled his short sleeve up to reveal the tattoo. Like he’d said, it was a lamington, with sweet intricate letters on top of it.

“Luke,” Michael read aloud. “It says Luke.”

“Do you think that’s his name?” Ashton asked, looking surprisingly soft and vulnerable. No wonder. This was his soulmate.

“Yeah. Probably. You’re in love with some guy named Luke. Do you know anyone named Luke?”

Ashton shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He frowned a little.

“At least you’ve got it easy. You can just pop in places and try and find someone named Luke with a tattoo with stuff about you. How am I supposed to find the owner of the dog?”

“We could make a flyer?” Ashton suggested. Always so reasonable. “I’m sure there are groups online for it. We can join those. We’ll find you your soulmate, Mike, I promise.”

Michael nodded, comforted by Ashton’s ever present ability to come up with plans. It sounded like a good one, anyway. “Want to order a pizza?”

Ashton laughed. “Is that the only thing on your mind? Yeah, I guess. But I can always go grab it, the place is just around the corner.”

“You just want to look for Luke.” Michael pouted. Ashton flushed. So he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, but I can grab you some of those sweets you like from the bakery?”

Michael perked up immediately. “The sugar buns?” They were like heaven, sweet balls of dough rolled in some magical kind of sugar. He was addicted to them.

“Yeah. Those. I’ll be back in fifteen. Unless you want to come?” Ashton offered, though he seemed skeptical. And rightly so.

Michael crinkled his nose. “And deal with people? Absolutely not. Shoo, peasant. Go get me my pizza.”

Ashton just laughed his way out the door, leaving Michael back alone with his thoughts. About his soulmate. He had honestly no idea who it could be. His dating life had been rough lately. And by rough, he hadn’t actually seen anyone in over a year. Life just hadn’t really made any room for it. He’d focused his energy on his fleeting crushes. Soft brown eyes and squishy cheeks and a smile that made him feel warm inside drifted back into his thoughts. Calum. He wondered what Calum was feeling at the moment. They’d only talked a handful of times now. He wasn’t his soulmate. Calum probably had someone taller. More attractive. More deserving of him.

That was a little depressing. He sighed, frowning and slumping against the couch. He wished he’d actually gone with Ashton and braved the people just so he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. His phone buzzed, loud in the silence, against the coffee table where he’d left it. He answered it, a little unsure why he was being called.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I found him, Mike. I found him.”

“Found who, Ashton?” Why did he choose now to not explain?

“Luke.” Oh. Oh. Fuck. He’d found his soulmate-

“Already?! How the fuck is that even possible?”

“He works at the bakery. He said- he was saying lamingtons were his favourite of what they offered, and I asked his name. He said it’s Luke. He offered to tell me his tattoo once he gets off. He gets off in fifteen minutes-“

“Go,” Michael said, once there was a pause in Ashton’s excited and slightly frantic words. “Go find out his tattoo. Spend some time with him. I’ll just go pick up the pizza and have some time to think.”

“Are you sure? I can always come back after and just get his number.”

“I’m sure, Ash. He sounds nice. You’d do the same for me. I’m happy for you. Really. Go bond with him. Romance him. Take him out for dinner. Really woo him and give me the good details tomorrow.”

There was a pause, before a relieved. “Thank you. I’ll call tomorrow, I swear. Talk later.” Before there was a click, indicating that Ashton had left him for his lover.

That was fast. Ashton had already found his soulmate. Michael wondered, idly, what it felt like. To know who you belonged with. At least he knew someone out there belonged with him. It was just a matter of finding them.

He’d maybe look for one of the online groups that Ashton had suggested later. For now, he was going to pick up his pizza and enjoy it, even if he was stuck by himself. So he grabbed his keys (he wouldn’t forget them now, not after having locked himself out four times since moving in) and pulled his sweatshirt back on for extra protection before trudging outside.

It was gorgeous out, a crisp feeling in the air indicating the turning of seasons coming soon. Michael wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or not. He was all mixed up inside, and didn’t know where to begin sorting it out. Normally, he talked to Ashton and he helped him begin untangled the complicated web of his emotions. But he was currently occupied. So he’d have to do it himself. Or ignore it and wait. Which sounded much better at the moment.

He almost tripped over a dog, since he had his hoodie up over his head, having to stumble a bit to catch his balance.

“Sorry! Rocko likes getting in peoples way. Are you okay?” The stranger walking said dog asked immediately. Though, there was something familiar about his voice that had his gut churning. In a good or a bad way, Michael couldn’t decide.

He looked up from beneath his hoodie, shocked to see Calum standing there. Calum from the pet store. Recognition dawned on Calum’s face and he gave him a happy smile. “Hey!” Calum said, tone just as happy. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” Michael gave him a smile, albeit a slightly strained one. Couldn’t he see he was having a crisis? And mourning what could have been between them? Calum was gorgeous and loved dogs and seemed so nice. He could’ve been his soulmate. But he was stuck with a stupid prisoner or something. Not that he minded too much. Any soulmate was good. Any at all. As long as they weren’t, like, a murderer or something. That would be pretty bad.

“How have you been? All the news this morning has been crazy. I think my phone’s been blowing up since before I woke up.” Calum’s face squished up in that weirdly endearing way that happened when he smiled sometimes. It definitely didn’t make Michael’s chest flip around. Or his heart flutter. He wasn’t sappy like that. He had a soulmate somewhere.

“Mine too. My friend Ashton called me like eight times to make me wake up at nine am just so I could watch the news.” Which was fair, actually. It was a monumental event. Ashton was nice to not let Michael sleep through it. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. He knew anyway. “Then he was rude enough to offer to order pizza and then ditch me to find his soulmate.”

Calum laughed and, wow, that was Michael’s new favourite sound. It did something absolutely weird to his belly that he didn’t understand at all. It was like some sort of flip floppy butterfly thing. He didn’t entirely hate it. “At least you didn’t sleep through it! I feel so bad for all the people without marks. I hope they end up with them eventually, if that’s what they want.” He paused, gaze focusing on Michael. “Do you have a mark?” Before Michael could try and figure out what to say, Calum was waving it off. “Sorry, Sorry. That’s awfully personal. You said you’re grabbing pizza, right? From Alfredo’s around the corner, by any chance?”

Michael didn’t even know what to think about all of that. Did Calum have a soulmate? Had he found them already? He really didn’t know. And he especially didn’t know why he was so fucking attached to the guy from the pet store who reminded him of a puppy. “Yeah, actually. They make the greatest pizzas. It’s a crime to order anywhere else if you can avoid it.”

Calum grinned, face doing that squishy-cheek thing again. “That’s right on my way! I can walk with you, if you’d like?”

And yeah. That sounded really nice to Michael. Of course he’d like. “Sounds good to me.” It sort of hit him then, that this was Calum’s dog. And he felt his heart sink right down into his gut where it died. There was no chance for him to be his soulmate now. Not at all. Rocko, the giant German Shepard he was walking, didn’t match the clearly small dog tattooed on his arm. At least it was still covered by his sweatshirt so they didn’t have to make awkward chit chat about it. “It’s great weather outside for dog walking,” Michael said, just because he was a masochist and enjoyed causing himself pain.

“It really is. I think Rocko will actually be worn out, which is an impressive feat. He’s hard to wear out sometimes. He’s young, so he has more energy.”

Michael nodded. He was still, irrationally, hurt that the love of his life, this man he’d talked to maybe three times, wasn’t his soulmate. Who the fuck else could it be? He hadn’t met anyone new in the last few weeks. Oh fuck. What if it was a customer? He’d met plenty of those. God, that would suck so bad. It would be so much harder to find his soulmate that way. And he’d have to hate them because they were a customer. “I don’t have that problem, really. I just have small dogs so they’re easy to wear out.”

“Southy,” Calum remembered, pleased with himself. “And...oh fuck, don’t tell me. I’ll remember it.” He paused for a moment, presumably to think. “Moose! Moose moose moose.”

Michael smiled despite himself and his insistence on staying in a foul mood. It was sweet that he actually remembered his dogs’ names. “Yeah. That’s them.”

“And Southy’s your ESA. Right. I remember.”

Michael just nodded a little bit. Calum had a good memory. Much better than his, his was shit. Except for when it came to whoever’s turn it was to order pizza, or Ashton’s mistakes. “Yeah.”

“He’s the good boy.” Calum smiled at him, and Michael’s stomach started doing somersaults. Not his heart. That was too cheesy.

“Yeah. He is.” Michael was an idiot. He sounded like a broken record. Couldn’t he find something else to say other than yeah?

“How did the nursing home go? That was where you were taking him, right?”

Damn Calum and his genius memory. “Yeah, it was. And it went really well. The old people really like him. I could do without the old women trying to squeeze my face, though.”

Calum laughed and oh, okay, maybe being a dork was a little worth it if he got reactions like that. “My friend’s grandma does that a lot. I get it. They mean well but, man, my poor face!”

All too soon, they ended up reaching Alfredo’s. Michael hadn’t bumped into him too far away from it and there wasn’t a good way for him to drag the conversation out any longer. Not without being painfully obvious, at least. He gave Calum a slightly reluctant smile. “Right. Here we are I guess.”

“Alright, well, enjoy your pizza! I’ll see you soon?” Calum seemed pretty genuine about it. But he always did. So who knew if he was being real.

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hopefully? Yeah again? Michael was an idiot. “Uh. See you.” He went into Alfredo’s, regretting every single thing he’d said in his entire life, and his own birth.

————————

Michael decided against going in to see Calum again for a while. He needed proper time to process. And think about his soulmate. Ashton had helped him look online for his. They’d had no luck so far. No one had anything relating to Michael at all. Which sucked.

“Maybe it’s defective,” he’d said one day, backwards on the couch with his head hanging over the edge while Ashton scoured the internet in search of Michael’s soulmate. “Maybe I really don’t have one and this is just a cruel trick.”

“Or maybe you’re dramatic and we just haven’t found them yet.” Damn Ashton. Not even letting him whine.

They’d continued looking, but nothing had come up. Luke, though, was nice. Michael had gotten to meet him about a week after the day him and Ashton had meet. He was sweet, if not a little awkward. He worked at the bakery, though, so more often than not he brought sweets to Ashton and sometimes he’d let Michael have some. He was pretty great.

Ashton was happy. He could see it in the smitten way he looked at Luke when he thought he wasn’t looking. In the way he smiled in that fond way he reserved just for him when Luke was rambling on about something, in the way he reassured him when Luke got embarrassed afterward. And Michael was happy for him, really. But he was a little jealous inside somewhere, just because it had been so easy for him. He’d found Luke right after he’d gotten his soulmate mark. There was no worry, no feeling like part of you was wandering out in the world with no way to track it down. He had it easy. And Michael thought that that might make it harder for Ashton to understand what he was going through.

Michael didn’t really know how to explain the feeling. It was just sort of...wrong. Like his heart ached all the time for someone he didn’t know and had never met but somehow he knew he was missing. It felt like he’d lost some part of himself somehow and that was just the scariest part of the whole thing. Because he was still Michael, nothing had changed about that. Except for the tattoo. Ashton seemed to sense that he needed to be left alone about it, so he didn’t tease too much. He was nice, gave him enough distance to process but not so much that he felt unsupported. Michael was grateful. But he was frustrated.

————————

He almost managed to put Calum out of his mind entirely. For the time being, at least. He was so wrapped up in his feelings and his mini spiral and focusing on his soulmate and how weird it felt not being around him, he didn’t have much time or mental energy leftover to dwell on the guy who was still pretty much a stranger.

That all came crashing down the following week, when him and Ashton worked another shift together. They’d worked at the coffee shop together for close to two years. Ashton, being the person he was, had eventually become manager. A position that he didn’t mind so much but Michael liked to poke fun at. Because he was nice.

“Have you seen him again?” Ashton asked, between handing a coffee to a customer with a smile and taking another order. “Calum?”

“No,” Michael grumbled, frowning as he grabbed a cup to make another drink. “Why would I?”

“You said you were in love with him. Why aren’t you at least figuring out if he’s your soulmate?” Ashton glanced over at him. “I need another iced mocha with extra whip.”

Michael sighed, looking at him. “Because he’s definitely got a soulmate that isn’t me. I can feel it Ashton. In my soul. He’s not interested in me and I’ll have to just scrap the proposal and suck it up.”

“You don’t know that. You could always ask him. I need an iced mocha with extra whip.”

“But I do. I don’t have to ask to know that. And why would I bother making a fool of myself when I already know that he’s got another soulmate somewhere?”

“Michael. Iced mocha. Extra whip. And you don’t know that, you’d just rather not ask than-“

Michael didn’t catch anything else he said. He’d finally started on the stupid coffee - which, really, it was more sugar than coffee so he hoped whoever fucking ordered it enjoyed their sugary heart attack at one pm on a Tuesday - when he’d glanced up. And that was an awful idea. Because the next person who entered the shop, complete with the little jingle of the bell over the door, was Calum.

“Welcome to Great Awakenings,” Ashton started in once Calum approached the counter. “What can I get you?”

Michael was staring. Openly. So when Calum smiled and looked over at him, he ducked down beneath the counter to try and avoid looking like an idiot. The only problem was, he spilled the jug of milk he’d been using for the mocha over his head. Ashton heard the clang of the metal hitting the floor and turned to look with a frown, taking in Michael on the floor covered in milk.

“Michael?” He asked, slightly startled. Michael wasn’t even sure how he ended up in this situation. The only explanation he could come up with was that the universe obviously hated him. First, introducing him to Calum and then not making him his soulmate. And now this. He was going to have to fight the universe. He was pulled out of his burning embarrassment by Ashton’s voice. “You go take your break. I think I’ve got an extra shirt or two in my car. I’ll...finish up here.”

Michael stood, chancing only the slightest glance at Calum with his face burning and completely drenched in milk, before he trudged out the back to Ashton’s car in search of a clean shirt and his dignity.

————————

Michael never did bother talking about it. Ashton had put two and two together and, after a couple unsuccessful attempts at asking, dropped the subject all together. Well...for all of four days, at least. That seemed to be Ashton’s limit, since he brought it up again when he’d invited Michael out to grab coffee. Somewhere else other than their work, thankfully. He’d invited Luke to join, with Michael’s approval, since they were trying to work out their dynamic. Which was fine. Everything was fine. He was running late, which gave Ashton the perfect opportunity to try and lecture him.

“Why don’t you just ask him, Mike? You’re sitting around making yourself miserable. The least you can do is ask and actually have a reason for being miserable.”

“Ew. Don’t call me that. And I’m not going to ask him because I already fucking know the answer and I’m not embarrassing myself for the second time in front of him. You don’t get it. Just because everything’s perfect for you and Luke doesn’t mean it’s perfect for everyone else.” Michael regrets his words as soon as he sees something like hurt flash across Ashton’s face. He doesn’t like feeling guilty. Or hurting Ashton’s feelings. It’s...difficult to do, and Michael should’ve been better at avoiding it considering how long they’d been friends. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice softer. “I just mean...you found your soulmate fifteen minutes after getting your mark. And that’s great. I’m happy for you. But it’s not like that for me. I’m..still looking. We haven’t had any luck finding whoever I’m supposed to be with. There’s no point in assuming it’s Calum.”

Before Ashton can give what would probably be an annoyingly reasonable answer, Luke makes his way over. He kind of reminds Michael of a newborn calf. Long legs and a little bit awkward. He smiled, with the same smitten look Ashton always gave him, and sat next to him, pecking his cheek. Gross. “Hey, what did I miss?”

“Michael is lamenting about his lack of soulmate. And how he won’t ask the man he insists is the love of his life what his soulmate mark is.” Michael glared daggers at Ashton, offended that he’d reveal such personal information to anyone. What a jerk.

“Oh. Why don’t you just ask him?” Luke asked, tilting his head.

“Because they’ve only talked four times and Michael insists that it isn’t helpful. Because he obviously already has a soulmate.” Ashton sipped his coffee with a disconcertingly knowing look. He didn’t like that look on him. Not at all.

“You don’t know that, though,” Luke pointed out, lips pulling into a frown. “I thought Ashton did too, until I found out he didn’t. Who is this guy?”

“His name’s Calu-“

“If you tell him, Ashton, I’m not coming to your wedding and I’m never going to cover a shift for you ever again-“

Luke looked startled at the revelation. “Calum? Like, pet store Calum?”

It was Michael’s turn to be shocked. “Wait, you know him?”

Luke’s startled expression didn’t shift. “Yeah, he’s my best friend.” He stared at Michael for a very long moment. “Oh my god. What is it?”

Michael felt lost in like eight different ways. He didn’t even know where to begin. “What is what?”

“Your mark. What is it?”

That really didn’t help Michael’s confusion at all. He just felt worse. “It’s a dog. With some weird numbers. I don’t see what that has to do-“

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’re both so stupid. So fucking stupid.”

Michael frowned. That wasn’t very nice. “What’s wrong with you-“

“He’s got two dogs. And a strand of numbers.” Luke looked at him, expression somewhere between incredulous and pained.

And oh. Oh. Oh. That changed...a lot of things. “But how do you know it’s him? We could be wrong about it. Maybe it’s not...maybe it’s...”

“Where is your mark? Can I see it?” Michael didn’t like showing it off much. But Luke was sweet and trying to help so he rolled up his sleeve. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. That’s Duke.”

“Who’s Duke?” Ashton chimed in, though his smug expression said he already knew. Michael wasn’t even sure he actually wanted to know.

“Calum’s dog. He loves him to death. You both are so- he saw your mark on that group for people who haven’t found their soulmates but he thought you didn’t like him. When he saw you getting at the coffee shop, he was going to tell you, but after you ducked down to get away from him, he figured that you probably didn’t like him and wanted to pretend he wasn’t your soulmate.”

The new information sent him reeling. It took him a couple of moments to process before his brain was capable of functioning again. “I thought his dog was Rocko,” he finally said, a little dumbly.

Luke shook his head. “That’s his neighbor’s dog. He agreed to take him on a walk after she had to go visit her mum in the hospital.”

Michael was silent for another couple of moments. “So he doesn’t hate me?”

“No, he thought you hated him. He was excited.”

Another few moments of silent contemplation. “I’ll be right back. I have an...errand to run.” He pushed back from the table and left, leaving his iced coffee on the table.

[t-underneaththeradardancing]

finally - i dont gaf about the arty fact that its reality a crescent - im just happy to see it - so imma write a crappy poem w artifice - maybe - or jest irony and double entendres  

not really good about wishing the holidays - i try a bit and then - but hallelujah anyway and happy new year on the western front  - duz t spend more time on the lunar - maybe but not too - i mean the moon is everyday magic vital 

like music  - finally today after almost a month ( maybe more t ) im enjoying playing  -  fuck tho please - no more drama - lol  - sometimes t uh over reacts -lack of info and overthinking fear usually  - someone wise - a witch of course reminded me im just in a rawk n roll  life and aging - she didnt mention the aging  - i forgetz imma old as fuck for hourz - til vita asks if im ok if i looks illin - and even then if im chillen  -  i forget they just babies  - i forget just exactly how fucked up i waz for so long cuz i usually was high functioning and fortunate - except when i wuznt and i prolly didnt fool ppl as much as i thot 

there but for grace and love - and dumb luck witch maybe same  

7 hours recording tomorrow  - then 2 more sessions at another studio  - maybe enuff - idk  

oh my yes a kitty and a good one  and yes we still do the usual daily 

and my murder - i think i saw fed and talked w every one  

no resolutions  - fuck i be happy to make it thru another winter and not lose another step - i can tread water long time  ( t u havent had to tread water in fukking years - yah muscle memory but they weaker )  - have  u ever wondered what happen if dorothy had surrendered  or is that walpurgis repenting  - leaving no rolling stone unturned on the path not taken  - y am i thinking Absalom izzit from alice - or faulkner  - both only w an e  - no i aint got a hookah  - we gotta name or rename  - tho mercy  - oh my the tempus so fast fugit - i gotta reheat a slow sauce  cooked deep space 9 style  - maybe watch a ball drop but nbd  - i mean its not like suspenseful  - or  - meanwhile  - sleep deprived a bit so imma zzzzz whenever possible and i dont rilly care about waterford crystal  -tho a frend collects it  - i have trouble holding on to anything and travel light collecting - no mas   - lol   - i bet u didnt see that 1 coming  

not seeking absolution 

not sorry bout the uh poetry 

or the photo 

later 

love 

(its a verb)

[manyearsaway]

CHARACTER THING :3

tagged by:    NO ONE I TOOK IT FROM ME

tagging:   anyone 

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME.     Brian James Rodgers NICKNAME.     bri, space cowboy, dumb baby GENDER.     male HEIGHT.     6′3″ tall glass o water AGE.     26 ZODIAC.     leo :o SPOKEN LANGUAGES.     english. ivan taught him some russian but he can only rly have the most basic conversations

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR.     brown  EYE COLOR.     green  SKIN TONE.     he a white boy. lil pale but spends a lotta time outside tbh he probably sunburnt on the face a lot  BODY TYPE.     lanky boy. long legs. skinny baby (ok in the winter he has a TINY big more weight on him but not enough to rly notice). VOICE.       i think. a TOUCH of a southern accent. just a lil bit. comes out more when he’s angry than anything else, or when he’s being sarcastic. but like otherwise it’s pretty average toned/pitched and stuff. MAYBE a lil deeper than norm. DOMINANT HAND.     left.... to be DIFFERENT. POSTURE.     he sits and stands up straight for the most part tbh. he only really relaxes in bed. SCARS.     he’s got like the SLIGHTEST scar on his forehead bc he busted it on something in the ship. he’s got one on his right calf bc of some dumb shit he was tryna do when he was a kid (les be real he was tryna go to space from the roof in a cardboard box).  TATTOOS.      no but he wouldnt be opposed to getting something space themed in the future BIRTHMARKS.     he’s got a lil tan mark on the inside of his left thigh. it kinda looks like florida ??? MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).     TALL. he tall. his nose ? kinda wack. hair? amazing. perfection. touch it.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH.     dayton, ohio (more like englewood, the outskirts of dayton that’s still a dayton zipcode but isn’t actually in dayton. u kno how it be sometimes).  HOMETOWN.    dayton/englewood ohio SIBLINGS.    non but he counts ivan zack and lukas since he doesn’t have anyone ELSE PARENTS.   james and dorothy rodgers. james worked on a farm n dorothy made quilts (( brian still has one tucked in his backpack )).

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION.    an ASTRONUAT !!!  CURRENT RESIDENCE.    literally wherever the feels like livin CLOSE FRIENDS.    michael taylor, ivan bardin, lukas stillwater !  RELATIONSHIP STATUS.    sad FINANCIAL STATUS.    he gets like 5k a month from the association. they also pay all his bills for him SO FAR. DRIVER’S LICENSE.    he used to have one. but its expired LMAO CRIMINAL RECORD.    oh god no he’s a good baby ...... so get him into trouble .........  VICES.    chronically dumb. doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. bad at keeping secrets unless its SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT and someone he loves.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.     he bi baby. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.     submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  |  top  |  bottom  |  verse.                    ( i? have not thought abt this too much but honestly tell him what u want him to be and he’ll do his darndest ) LIBIDO.     ok he will NEVER say no to sex. ever. but? he’s stupid. u gotta be explicit.  LOVE LANGUAGE.    looking at the stars together. having picnics. laying in the grass together. holding hands. nose kisses. spooning. telling them abt space (but like.... softly..... lmao) RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.    ok. you really really gotta be honest with him or he’s just not going to know. he’s only ever been with ONE PERSON since he was in high school so he just like. has forgotten everything abt dating. not to mention he just doesn’t have any idea how social norms work now. like talk about your feelings? beat around the bush? is going on dates acceptable? are there any dances to go to? what’s goin on? but as soon as he figures out that like.... oh man..... this person wants to like BE TOGETHER..... he is the SWEETEST BOY. he will talk ur ear off about the last thing he read or like (if he ever confides in them) what life was like when he was little/back when he was from. he’ll make little deserts from the 20s/30s that he remembers and he’ll buy flowers at LEAST once a week. he loves to just sit and listen to their day and whats goin on with them because he KNOWS he talks to much and sometimes he just likes to listen. he REALLY likes to just sit and read with them. curled up on the couch or somethin. just livin together really. 

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.   '39 BY QUEEN LMAO HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.    he loves to read !!! he love to reread his astronomy book and he actually rly likes to find old high school history books and go through them to figure out what the FUCK is going on, but he also likes to see the differences in how two different textbooks describe the same events.  LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.    left brain but brian would say that left and right brained stuff is dumb  FEARS.    never fitting in i guess?? at this point he probably a little afraid the association is going to send him back to space and he wont have a choice SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.    he a humble boy. he thinks what hes done is SO RAD but hes quick to build someone else up before him VULNERABILITIES.    HM. talkin too much i guess.

[toshis-puppycat]

Dreamscape Part Two

Masterlist

A/N: So I'm bored and I have quite a bit written already so shit why not post more?

Warning in this: Drugged, attempted assault, nondescript violence bcs I cant write it but ya know if you ever thought of how to fuck someone up for this. Its that.

——

Saturday night found you dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz in front of a sorority house. Richie did tell you he'd be a little late trying to make his friend come over and when your friends knew they were ecstatic. 

"Y/n, I know you don't give a shit but Richie is a total babe." One of the girls told you. They thought you didn't notice? You did, you weren't blind. Richie was hot in that soft boy, bad boy way but he wasn't your type. To be fair though you didn't really know your type. Maybe he secretly was, you did get flustered around him sometimes and you couldn't forget how hed stair at you sometimes like he wanted something from you. But you respected and honestly liked how he never pushed that boundary you clearly put up when you met two weeks prior. You were very uncomfortable with people flirting anyways, but Richie really did act like that with everyone. You caught him once or twice "flirting" with new workers at the Slice of Heaven Pizzeria it didn't matter if they were male or female either. He clearly liked it both ways. For the first time you felt comfortable with a man and trusted him enough to call him your friend. You felt your phone, buzz.

'Hey doll, were running later than I thought. It took forever to convince Stan to go, I'll let you know when we're there. Don't get too drunk without me (;' 

You rolled your eyes, seems like one of his friends really didn't want to go if he made them this late. 'But', you thought feeling yourself soften as you walked inside, 'they didn't want to leave their friend alone' and that was sweet. 

Stan was furious. He could really kill something right now despite his record of not attacking living things. Richie fucking dragged him out of the apartment complex and forced him into a degrading costume (he knew Richie chose it. Who the fuck would be 'Inspector Gadget?) and is now making him go to a halloween party. "My friend invited me! You guys will love her!" He said, Stan just felt his scowl deepen. Who the fuck enjoyed hanging out with Richie with a sane mind? He wouldn't like this at all. He could feel it as he was walking into the sorority house with the others. He wouldn't like this at all.

You were 3 shots in when you felt your phone buzz again, you drunkenly grabbed it and quickly read the text from Richie. 'We're here doll, where are you?' You lept up with joy and quickly sent a text back telling him where to find you, although it probably wasnt english the more you thought about it. 'But alcohol is way more fun right now' you thought, pouting a little you were going to leave when you felt a pull on your arm.

"Aw come on babe, why not stay a little longer?" Someone asked, you didn't realize with all the drinking you were left with the frat boys of the girls you were with.

"I gotta go see friends, go drink more by yourselves." You said yanking your arm away from him. You felt heavy all of a sudden, the world became a little more blurry. They fucking drugged you! You thought angrily, but you couldn't do much as you felt your body go limp. 

Upstairs Richie could feel something, and it was important as the group walked in. He was looking for you immediately, you'd sent him gibberish that he assumed said youd meet him in the front room, because you were getting drunk downstairs. But there he was with his friends surrounded by a bunch of drunk humans waiting for you to show up. "I'm gonna look for her, she usually responds quick even when shes a little drunk." Richie said, looking at the others. Bev looked a bit worried. 

"Rich, we shouldn't be here." She said, a little fearful. 

"We feel like fledglings again Rich, someone's here and they smell good." Bill said. Richie could've smacked himself, he completely forgot.

"That's her! I'm sorry I spaced out on telling you guys, but I got used to her scent." He exclaimed, the group looked unimpressed especially Stan. 

"Rich well help, but you owe us later." Ben said. 

They all went their separate ways. Your scent happened to be everywhere they found, but you yourself weren't anywhere. Richie felt himself get very worried all of a sudden. Like something bad was going to happen if they didn't find you. And whenever Richie felt that, it usually meant something bad would happen. 

The night got worse, for Stan at least. He was searching for some dumb friend of Richies who couldn't even hold their own alcohol! He could just feel his scowl deepen. Then he caught a scent, and it was good. But it was twinged with panic and fear too. Not good. He heard muttering, and very faintly rustling fabric. Eyes narrowed he walked to the area of the faint scent. The faint muttering from before became louder and he could actually make out what was being said. 

"God does this bitch ever stop wiggling?" and "those girls better have not lied to us, she better be a virgin like they said." 

'Ah yes. The wonders of humanity.' He thought with a sneer. 'How pure of them attacking someone like this because of a construct like virginity or purity. How pitiful. No one in humanity was pure.' But he wasn't about to stand there and let some humans attack someone who was obviously defenseless. He walked to the door and knocked. All the muttering stopped. He could hear the blood rushing through their veins. 

"Go the fuck away, this is a private affair!" One of the boys shouted. Stan felt himself tense, the smell was stronger, like it was filled with more fear. 

"If you wanna play hard to get, we can." He said, immediately kicking the door down.

There was the smell, tied down only in her bra and underwear, a small thing with such a delicious scent. He quickly fucked up some frat boys shits almost killing them if it weren't for the form tied to the bed. He quickly untied the frail thing they wanted to attack so bad. He could almost react to her fear filled scent, almost. He did react however to seeing her face, as she quickly attempted to dress herself in the costume she had on before. If he had a heartbeat it would've stopped, you were there and the world suddenly felt right again. He quickly took his jacket off and covered you with it as he heard footsteps rushing up. He knew it was the group, an it was confirmed when he saw Beverly's furious face rushing into the room quickly taking in the scene and looking at several knocked out frat boys and the sobbing figure Stan had been able to cover. The others soon ran in. Richie being the last and evidently the most furious. That's when it hit him, you were the scent. You were with Richie. It was a punch to the gut he never wanted to expect. You were back, but you were with Richie of all people. 

"Y/n!" Richie shouted, pushing past the group as they all shook themselves. They were reacting like fledglings again, and suddenly Stan felt himself tense, suddenly feeling angry at you even though you did nothing but exist again. 

"Dont fucking drink alcohol if you cant handle it." He growled out, furiously pushing past the others and going downstairs. Richies "dont be a fucking asshole Stan!" Barely even heard by the furious older vampire. Logically he knew you were drugged by them, but just knowing you were with Richie broke the heart and he didnt think hed ever be the same knowing you were alive.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 13 ~ FINAL

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, Louboutins, Love

WC: 4k

A/N: you guys are amazing. thank you for supporting this story. I love you all. never be afraid of your greatness.

____________

Ginny’s quiet. Her chin wobbles. Her smile is strained. Andrew can hear it through the phone. He shifts in his seat, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He sighs.

“I just want you to know,” she sniffles, “This was never the plan.”

Andrew nods, though he knows she can’t see him. “I know.”

“I wanted to learn from you. I d-did learn from you. I learned… so much.”

“But there was still something missing,” he finishes. Ginny sniffles again. “Ginny, I know. I know you never intended to leave this way. I know… I know you didn’t sign up for a lot of what ended up happening on this team. We all got more than we bargained for. But I think we’re all better for it. Fuck, I know I am. Do you know how nervous I was, bringing you on? I didn’t even want to ask Shawn to bring on a PA. God, it’s such a delicate balance, having a team like this. In the best way, you did throw us all off balance. You saved my ass over and over and over. You went above and beyond every day. You taught us all how to work together better. You reminded us how strong we are as a team.”

“That’s what I’ll miss most, you know,” she whispers. Her voice is gravelly. It makes Andrew’s throat constrict, “I’ll miss that. The family. You guys are my family.”

Andrew chews his lips into his mouth. “We’re going to miss you too, Gin. It’s like… it’s like you’re Dorothy and we’re the friends you made along the way to Oz.”

Ginny laughs. “Does that make Shawn the Wizard?”

Andrew snorts. “He fucking wishes. No. I’m the Wizard. Shawn is… Shawn’s the Scarecrow.”

“This is a very odd metaphor,” Ginny laughs. Andrew feels some much needed relief at the sound of it.

“We’re an odd bunch,” he sighs.

She goes quiet again. Andrew clears his throat.

“So,” he begins, “You’re gonna need a manager. I have some ideas for you.”

+

Shawn’s laughter fades. He leans back in the leather booth and meets Niall’s eyes. He rolls his own.

“What?” he groans.

“Nothing, mate. Just figured you’d have something to say about the fact that the last time we were here, she was with us.”

She. Niall’s adorably reverent of Ginny. Shawn makes a joke in his head about “She Who Must Not Be Named.” He keeps his nerdy notions to himself.

Shawn shrugs. “She’s everywhere, man. If I get all fuckin’ moody about having to do stuff and be places where I was with her, I’d never get out of bed. Actually, she’s been there too, so…” He trails off.

Niall bobs his head. “I miss her too.”

Shawn looks up from the fizzing bubbles in his pint glass. “You haven’t talked to her?”

“I’ve caught bits and pieces from her. Haven’t seen her in a while. She’s… y’know, she’s busy, meetin’ with managers and labels in all that. Don’t envy her a bit, actually. Fuckin’ miserable, that whole lot.”

Shawn frowns. He remembers that, kind of. It was different for him because Andrew discovered him, so he had an advocate in his corner from the start, plus he was a teenager, so his parents were at the helm of negotiations. He was just the music back then, not the brains. Ginny’s always been both.

“I’m not too worried about her,” Shawn confesses, his eyebrows pulling together, “She’s… so fucking smart, you know? Like, savvy. That’s why she’d be such a fucking great manager.”

Niall’s eyes widen in agreement. He nods thoughtfully. He shrugs.

“I guess things’ll happen as they’re meant to.” He angles his gaze back up to Shawn’s.

Shawn wets his lips. “They will. I know they will.”

+

Ginny gazes at the baby, lets her wrap her tiny fist around her finger. She sucks the finger into her mouth, cooing. Ginny giggles.

Hannah laughs with her, jiggling her little daughter as she lies on her stomach.

Victoria Jade Abigail is six months old and enormous for her age, looking easily 6-7 months older than she is. She has soft brown eyes and tight tiny curls, much like Ginny’s. When Ginny gets to hold her, she whispers in her ear about how lucky she is to have such a smart auntie who can help her care for them.

They’re in the park. Marcus and Kingston are exploring the Princess Diana Memorial Playground while Hannah and Ginny finish their picnic. Victoria starts to snooze against her mother’s chest with Ginny’s finger still clenched in her little hand. As she fades into sleep, her grip slackens. Ginny slips it free and smoothes her fingers down the baby’s back.

“You sure you really want to tour again, babes?” Ginny sighs, looking up to cast Hannah a curious glance. Hannah’s looking down at her baby girl adoringly.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, “I need it, Gin. Can’t live without it. Touring is… god, it’s everything. I mean, it’s not, obviously. Family. This family is everything. But…” Her voice fades.

Ginny feels a churning in her stomach. It’s familiar and unwelcome. It’s nauseating and a little helpless. It’s uncertainty. She nudges Hannah to continue.

Hannah shrugs. “But I can’t be all there for my family if I’m not being me, you know? Like, I can’t just give it up to be a mum. I know some women can. Some women want to. I applaud those women, as long as it’s what they really want. But what kind of mum am I really if I show my kids that dreams are disposable? I can’t… I can’t be the best mum I can be if I’m not also doing what I love.”

Ginny swallows and nods, rolling onto her side on the blanket they’ve spread over the dewy spring grass.

“You really feel that way? That if you’re not touring or performing, that’s… like, like you can’t be yourself without it?”

Hannah nods easily. “Of course. I think you have to feel that way to do this, to be this. Don’t you think it’s how Shawn feels, too?”

Ginny doesn’t startle like a frightened horse at the sound of his name anymore. It’s been months since she left him in that bed in Hawai’i. In that time, she’s reminded herself how to stand on her own and focus on her career.

The only problem is that… maybe it’s not the right career.

Ginny feels crazy when she lets herself consider that. After all this time, all this stress, all this work -- she upended her entire life for this. Her mother called her crazy. Her father claimed to have known all along she was meant to be an artist, which immediately made her wary. But could she really have gotten this far down this path just to find another direction again?

Ginny rolls away onto her back as Victoria stirs, hungry and squirmy. She sifts her fingers through the grass, the same way she did last summer when leaving Shawn’s team was a new and harsh inevitability. The wound has faded to a scar.

It’s not that it was the wrong move. She needed it -- they both did. But in the months that followed, as Ginny sat and thought and talked and met with managers and labels and struggled and drank and asked for advice, something felt just a little… hollow.

She chews on the inside of her lip again, where she’s convinced she’ll end up with a hole if she doesn’t find a way to calm the fuck down about all this.

“You know he’s in London, right?” Hannah hums.

Ginny blinks out of her cloud of thought. “Hmm?”

Hannah nods. “Doing some recording’s what I heard, last I talked to Teddy.”

“Teddy,” Ginny evades with a smile, “How is she?”

“Always a laugh, that one. Met with her last week. She’s going to put in a couple calls to some managers she likes, ones she thinks could fit my vibe.”

Ginny picks at the grass.

+

Ginny’s fingers stroke through the curls over his right ear. As he studies her face, she studies the way his hair looks a little bit copper in the lamplight. Her mind is blissfully empty, the way his almost never is. He smiles gently, adoring and envying.

The hand spread across her back flexes. Under the sheets of his bed, he slides a sturdy leg between hers. She shifts comfortably, welcoming him in. He clears his throat for her attention.

“When did you know you wanted to go into artist management?”

Ginny blinks a few times and scrunches her forehead. “Oh. Hmm. I guess around the time Hannah realized her first manager was nicking from her, skimming money off her accounts.”

Shawn’s eyebrows raise. Ginny sighs. “I’d been her PA, I was working closely with them both. I subbed in for a while before she could hire someone with actual experience. I guess I never really felt like her manager, more like her teammate. But I always understood her vision, y’know? I could see the big picture.”

Shawn nods. “She’s lucky to have you, Ginny. Even if you’re not directly on her team anymore. She needs you. We both do.”

Ginny smiles fondly. She scoots closer into his side. Shawn rolls onto his back and lets her fold herself on top of him, resting her head on his chest.

Finally, his head goes quiet.

“There’s enough of me to share, I promise.”

+

Ginny tilts her chin up, willing herself to focus. This meeting is important. But she’s… distracted.

It’s her third meeting with this guy from Demi Lovato’s management company. That hellish Island Records gala last year was good for something, it seems. Hannah’s come along as back up, as sort of interim-manager-substitute-person for some of the meetings Ginny’s taken. Ginny’s been doing the same for Hannah.

Ginny glances over. Hannah is listening intently, asking questions, looking engaged. Ginny smiles subtly and looks back at the man’s face, hoping her eyes haven’t glazed over.

Since the beginning, it was Ginny and Hannah. When they felt alone in a classroom full of girls with creamy white skin and soft braids and pigtails, it was down to them to make their own way.

Even when Marcus came along, Ginny and Hannah were a team. Even when Hannah’s babies came along, Ginny and Hannah were still a team. Even when Ginny was on another team, Hannah was still on her team. Things shift and change. They’re still a team.

When Ginny snaps back in, they’re alone. The industry professional in $800 jeans and Louboutin sneakers stepped out to take a call. Hannah’s eyes roll so hard Ginny’s surprised they don’t fall out.

“This motherfucker,” she snorts.

Despite the distraction, Ginny has been at least half listening and knows exactly why Hannah is reacting the way she is. After all, she’s seen and heard it all by now -- the good, the bad, the ugly. She can see through anyone’s bullshit smokescreen. Hannah is eyeing her like she’s wondering how Ginny even got to three meetings with this joker who’s talking about an EDM sound and touring with Bebe Rexha and a stage name.

And she can see through Ginny, too.

Hannah bites her lip. “Come on, Gin. This ain’t it, babes.”

Ginny sits back in her overstuffed armchair and gazes out at this loser’s stunning view of West London, her home.

“I guess I know that,” she whispers.

Hannah is patiently silent. Ginny looks back at her.

“Do you know what I think?”

Hannah shrugs in response.

“I think we’ve been going about this wrong. You and me, we’ve been trying to let other people take the reins for so long. You’ve had a half dozen shitty managers, I fell in love with my boss. What… what are we doing?”

Hannah sees a spark behind Ginny’s clear brown eyes. She sits up straighter.

“I mean,” Ginny begins, her voice growing louder, “What do you really want, Hans?”

Hannah’s brows lift. “I want… someone who understands me. A real partner.”

Ginny grins. “I understand you, Hans. No better partner than me.”

A look of uneasy understanding crosses Hannah’s face.

“But what about all this? What about doing your own music, touring?”

Ginny sits back, exhausted. “I love music. You know? I just… I really, really love it. I love performing. I love trying new things. But come on, Hans. You’re right. This ain’t it. This isn’t what I want. I don’t have to be a professional musician to sing. This is not my path.”

Hannah is quiet for a while. She nervously eyes the door. She sits forward, leaning into Ginny conspiratorially.

“Ok, Gin. What do you want, then?”

+

Ginny walked out.

She walked out of the office in her TK Maxx dress and the Louboutins Hannah got her for Christmas two years ago. She walked away from the slimy manager mincing his words. She walked away from something that wanted to change her, something that would’ve ruined her relationship with music forever.

She walked into a pub with Hannah and drank.

They sat in a booth with their heeled feet raised on cushions. They ate steak and kidney pies and drank lager and made plans.

Shortly after walking out of the management office, Ginny proposed a plan. Contracts were to be drawn up. Calls had to be made. Press releases needed to be drafted. All would be handled by Ginny, Hannah’s new manager.

Ginny didn’t feel a shred of regret, walking away. The weight of confusion from last summer is gone. The truth is, Ginny thinks, leaning back against the sticky booth with her beer in hand, leaving Shawn’s team was something that should’ve happened long before it did. They could never have a real relationship while she was on his payroll. She could not grow any more under Andrew’s shadow. The viral videos felt like a sign telling her to get out, to forge her own path. Ginny chuckles, thinking now she might’ve read it wrong.

Ginny closes her eyes. New paths are scary, that’s what kept her on the old one for so long. But as she sits here discussing strategy with her new client, she feels more stable and sure-footed than she has since she walked up to the other little black girl in the classroom and offered to show her where the milk coolers were.

Ginny sighs. Her fingers twitch for her phone. Hannah smiles knowingly, that slightly evil smile that always gets Ginny’s heart racing.

“You want to call him,” Hannah says flatly.

Ginny shrugs. “I’ve wanted to call him since September.”

“But you really, really want to call him now.”

“Of course I do,” she grumbles, “He’s… he’s the one, Han. I know he is. But I couldn’t stay with him, not while I was figuring this out.”

Hannah leans in across the sticky table. Her eyes are dark. The corner of her mouth lifts. Ginny feels a shiver rip down her spine in her prim pencil dress.

“So what’s stopping you now?” Hannah purrs.

Ginny’s stomach drops. She swallows. Her face goes hot.

She can’t answer.

Hannah holds up her phone. Her Instagram is open to a Shawn Mendes updates page on a post of him smiling with a fan outside Heathrow. It was posted fifteen minutes ago.

Ginny looks from the phone to Hannah.

“I’ve got to go.”

+

Shawn glances down at his phone one last time before dropping it in the security bin. The battery is low. He sniffs irritably, knowing he won’t get another chance to charge it until he’s on the plane back to LA.

He reaches back into the bin before the conveyor belt can drag it toward the x-ray machine. He turns it off.

+

Ginny is positively vibrating in the back of her black cab that’s speeding to Heathrow on the promise of a hefty tip.

Never has her phone felt so useless. She calls Shawn -- straight to voicemail, phone probably dead since he never turns it off. She calls Andrew -- straight to voicemail, which means he’s on a call and ignoring her. She calls Jake -- straight to voicemail, phone probably off because he’s not a desperate lovestruck millennial.

“Fuck!” Ginny cries, startling her driver. He looks back at her in the rearview mirror. She rolls her eyes and hits the contact number for Brian’s cell, waving at her driver to continue.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“Hello?”

“Brian!” she nearly shrieks, “Where’s Shawn?”

“Uhhh, Ginny?”

She huffs. “Yes, it’s Ginny. Brian, come on, I’m on my way to Heathrow, I have to catch him before he leaves. Where is he going?”

“Back to LA. He’s closing the deal on the movie.”

Ginny blanches. “What?”

“Yeah,” Brian chuckles, “I told him it was stupid, too. Andrew wore him down, I think. He’s on the 4:30 Virgin Atlantic to JFK.”

Ginny looks up at the clock at the front of the cab. It’s 3:30.

“Shit, fuck, I’m never gonna make it,” Ginny pants into the phone.

“Gonna have to run for it, Gin,” Brian chuckles, amused by the image.

“Yeah, yeah, call you later,” she grumbles, hanging up.

+

Ten minutes later, Ginny is power walking up to security, heels clacking, thrusting her phone out toward the woman who doesn’t look like she cares at all that Ginny just bought a $900 flight to New York she doesn’t even plan to board.

The ticket scans. Ginny hustles down the ramp and picks the shortest security line behind a doddering old couple who seem very confused about air travel as though it’s 1943 and they’ve never been on a fucking commercial flight. With a strained smile, Ginny sorts them out, leaving their clunky phones in a bin with their jackets and watching them shuffle through the metal detectors. As soon as Ginny is waved through, she grabs her phone and shoes from her bin and runs.

Over her shoulder, she calls, “Have a safe flight! Enjoy Orlando!”

Ginny forgoes slipping her shoes back on and tries hard not to think about the grimy germs she’s running through as she sprints through the terminal.

She dodges and weaves like an Arsenal striker, calling out “sorry!”s and “pardon me!”s as she goes. Her eyes are fixed at the gate at the end of the long stretch of wide, heavily trafficked corridor.

D23.

Somewhere around D17 they start bellowing over the intercom for last call for Virgin Atlantic flight 214 to New York City.

Bollocks.

Ginny hurdles past families, service dogs, airport police who give her disappointed glances. She is nearly waylaid by someone toting an inexplicably empty luggage cart. Just before it can collide with her ankles, she leaps over it with as much flexibility as her tight-fitting dress will allow.

She ignores the hoots and whistles of passersby, the tuts and scoldings of buttoned-up mums and dads. She has a singular goal.

She has to get to Shawn.

The last call announcement rings in her ears, pushing her as she pants heavily. Her bare feet slap the floor. Her heart charges hard against her ribs. Beads of sweat pool around her hairline.

Somewhere at a newsstand that she runs past, she catches a bar of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Diana Ross.

She runs faster.

D23 is nearly empty. She weaves around a flustered looking family to see that the door is still open!

She’s fumbling with her phone to access her ticket. She glances back up as her feet start to slow.

She sees him standing by a window looking dumbstruck, befuddled Andrew to his left, delighted Jake to his right.

“Ginny?” Shawn cries, launching off the post he’s leaning against. His long legs carry him to her, splitting the difference. They nearly collide, but he grabs her forearms and halts them, looking her over in confusion as she drops her shoes with a loud clatter on the tile floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he cries, cupping her face.

God, she’s fucking beautiful. He’s never gone this long without getting to look at her. He doesn’t know why she’s here, but he’s going to soak up every second.

“Don’t get on the plane,” she pants.

“What?”

“Don’t-- get on the plane,” she repeats, squeezing her fingers around his biceps.

“Ginny, what are you--”

“I ran out of a meeting with Greg Osterfield today,” she manages, eyes shifting to Andrew, who’s glancing at his watch, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sign with him. Truth is, I don’t want to sign with anyone, Shawn. I don’t want to be an artist, not really. I had to try, though. I’m not sorry I did, otherwise I always would’ve wondered. But I know now.”

“Shawn,” Andrew calls, looking anxiously at the gate attendants who are getting ready to shut the door.

“Hold on!” Shawn barks without taking his eyes off her. It makes her smile through her heavy breaths.

“Ginny, baby, please talk faster,” Shawn murmurs.

“I’m gonna manage Hannah. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m going to do. I know… I know that’s going to make it hard for us. We’ll be in the same place at the same time, what, twice a year, if we’re lucky? But it’s worth it, I think, to try. We’re worth it. I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t want to, but I had to.”

“I know,” Shawn interrupts, “I’m not-- I mean, it hurt, but I know why you did it. Honestly, Gin, I respect you so much for that. I’m so fucking proud of you. God, I love you.”

Ginny takes a deep inhale and swings her arms around his neck. Shawn follows her lead, pulling her in by her hips to a crushing kiss right there, in front of gate D23, amidst rubbernecking travelers, confused gate attendants and one very annoyed artist manager.

“Oh, thank god,” Jake mutters, going pink and averting his eyes from the scene, smiling to himself.

Shawn lightens up the kiss first, lifting a hand to cup her neck, tilting her head back to suck gently at her lower lip. He swallows her whimper and purrs, hungry for more. Ginny curls up into him, toying with the curls at the back of his neck. An unamused elderly woman passing them clears her throat. They ignore her.

After a few more heated seconds, Ginny pulls back reluctantly, bumping her nose against his.

“Don’t do the stupid movie,” she insists.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Shawn laughs, tickling the back of her neck with his fingertips.

She beams. “Yes. Don’t do the stupid fucking movie. Don’t even get on the plane. Come with me. Be here with me, just for a little while.”

Shawn smiles. He’s never been so happy to ditch work.

The gate closes. The plane leaves with Andrew onboard, toting excuses from Shawn to give the studio -- “just doesn’t feel like the right project, very excited and eager to consider more opportunities down the road” -- a line fed to him by Ginny.

Despite her expectations, Andrew didn’t look surprised or even too angry about Ginny’s sudden disruption. He muttered something about Dorothy clicking her heels to return to Oz. Shawn, with his other arm around Ginny’s shoulders, beamed and held up her Louboutins with a wink. Andrew rolled his eyes, hugged them both and left Jake with them for safe keeping.

As they stroll back through the terminal, catching the eyes of curious onlookers who either recognize Ginny as the woman who had just sprinted past them or Shawn as one of the most famous musicians on the planet, Shawn turns his face into Ginny’s hair and closes his eyes, inhaling. She still smells like coconut.

“Hey,” she whispers, getting his attention, “Where d’you want to go? My mum’s? Hannah’s?”

Shawn smiles. “How about we get a room at that little hotel in Regent’s Park and you let me show you how much I love you?”

Ginny’s face gets hot. “Yeah. Ok. Think I can spare a few days for that.”

Shawn shrugs. “Gonna take me longer than a few days to show you that, Gin.”

_____________

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[pandylovepost]

what are your headcanons for andy and panchos relationships with the other characters in the kingdom? ❤❤❤ I love your blog!!

ohhh i love this question & tysm!! 🧡

it ended up being rlly long so here’s the cut ;)

Pancho

•Julien; Julien is like a brother or cousin to Pancho! He trusts the king more than anything after Julien basically saved .. well himself, but also him. any scheme Julien comes up with that he knows Maurice wouldnt approve of, he’ll go to pancho

•Maurice; maurice has a kind of wary vibe around Pancho ever since Pancho suggested eating him on the sub in exiled. he’s suspicious of him mainly because he wants to protect Julien tho, & he cant shake that Pancho is (or was) a sleeper agent programmed with the sole purpose of killing his best friend so

•Clover: Pancho is kinda cautious around clover since she’s always round the corner ready to bust him & Andy’s schemes. when it comes down to it they DO work together as they aknowledge each others skillsets. literally pancho is the only lemur (from the kingdom) who’s beaten Clover in combat. just once though.

•Mort; Pancho just......aknowlegdes his existance. he’s there i guess. doesn’t find mort as terrifying & creepy as the average citizen but Panch has probably seen worse. or he just doesn’t care. mort also does crimes so theyre just aware of each other.

•Becca & Abner; he’s kinda friends with them cus Andy’s friends with them. he goes round to deliver them stuff sometimes like moonshine or weapons from Andy. He probably shouldn’t pay too much attention to their government conspiracy theories though, they tend to really freak his paranoid ass out

•Timo; Timo is scared of Pancho or at least wary. He admittadly would like to study him tho & Panch is often a great help to him doing manual labour for any of Timo’s big projects

•Masikura; she mindmelded with him once & swore never again. she just doesn’t wanna know.

•Ted; Ted has a lil crush on Pancho (he’s one of Ted’s many crushes) & Panch will lightly flirt with him sometimes when he’s in the mood to. Pancho will bicker & grouch with him but they are really tight friends especially after their time together during exiled.

•Dorothy; at first she saw Pancho as this ideal bad boy type, but then realised how bad he smells cus he hates bathing. She’ll offer him tea like she does with everyone & (begrudingly often) lets him crash with her & Ted when they all stumble back drunk after a night out. Literally her & Ted both just have a mutual crush on Pancho is that not canon though

•Willie; despite being mean to Willie like EVERYONE ELSE IS Pancho and Willie are quite good friends. He’ll go stay with him whenever he’s worried about something cus he knows Willie will understand. sometime’s he’s too panicky for Pancho to be around though cus it sets him off

•Hector; I WANT THEM TO BOND OVER MILITARY HARDSHIPS & EXPERIENCE I THINK IT WOULD BE HELPFUL & HEALING FOR THE BOTH OF THEM! I should write about this sometime..........

•Horst; the DJ friend who he can always have a crazy sesh with; they actually get along pretty good. except when Pancho’s out here stealing his bolos. Like with everyone, Horst just rambles to Pancho when he’s drunk.

•Tammy, Butterfish & Todd; no real connection to them besides that him & Butterfish will often do the same jobs. They usually just make casual work chat. Tammy thinks Pancho is posessed by demons but he doesn’t let that phase him.

•Karl: he’s not rlly a “kingdom citizen” but he’s about there enough so. anyway Pancho just doesn’t treat Karl like the evil genius villain he portrays at all, since Pancho’s own morality is in the grey area, which kinda infuriates Karl that Pancho just talks to him like hes a normal person. he wants Julien’s people to FEAR HIM!!

•Dr. S; Absolutely not. they don’t even really have a friendship of any kind & Pancho is terrified of going to see the doctor as Dr. S literally experiments on lemurs...he’s not about that after what happened with the previous king.......Andy often has to drag him to the hospital kicking & biting to get him to go to checkups

•Nurse Phantom; u know what they’ve never interacted in canon but I think Nurse Phantom senses how troubled & anxious he is & takes a lot of time to talk to Pancho like if ever Andy or anyone else manages to drag him to the hospital, Rob will hold his hand if it comes to it; he goes into major helpful mode like offering him fruit & telling him he’s gonna be alright. He’ll also scold him for getting into so many dangerous scrapes & tells him he’s gotta look after himself!

Andy

•Julien; for some reason Julien just refuses to exile him even after all the bad shit he’s done BUT i think that’s because Andy is overall helpful to him like he ignores all the weirdness for example when they walked in on him & that rat holding a body wrapped in leaves because hey! we need tropheys Andy fast! thats the issue here!! perhaps its Julien’s awful adhd memory though & he just genuinely forgets. Julien is close with Pancho of course so Andy’s been round to the plane for parties & dinner as Pancho’s +1 of sorts— heck even he can be “polite” when he has to be.

•Maurice; Momo hates him. hates him hates him theres no turning back. i mean its hard not to when most of the citizens suffer from rediculous lemur stupidity & ur the only one who can see through this bat when he’s just standing there chatting shit. Very suspicious of Andy— plus he just thinks he’s creepy

•clover; LMAO bUT .....like obviously she hates him for good reason. but i do have this hc that’s way too long to write out that after Julien, Maurice & Mort literally fucked off to go with the zoosters in madagascar 2 Clover was literally responsible for two kingdoms cus she couldnt just leave them with a gecko in charge. I just want some situation where theres a proper twist & Andy ends up mellowing the hell out & actually being useful to her & the kingdom...he has skills but he uses them for nefarious reasons. She’d probably save his life somehow in the post-Julien chaos & he’d b like....”why would YOU of all people save ME?” n she’d b like... “well you are technically a citizen of this kingdom and ....i’ve gotta make sure you’re ALL safe for when ..... if King Julien ever gets back.....”

•mort; ??? sometimes theyre legit business partners. Mort can get in on a good scam. that second rub’s gonna cost ya. theyve probably been in the same prison before at one point. Mort’s so old.

•Becca & Abner; his fellow anti-establishment pals!! he doesn’t fully believe all of their ideas & theories but he loves em cus they’ll always buy self defence scorps off him. They get along & they drink a lot together by the stagnant watering hole. they’ve seen Andy in horrible states; all 3 of them are an idiot squad when theyre together. Becca & Andy argue a lot cus even she thinks some of the things he says are wack sometimes

•Timo; i have this hc that Timo, Andy & Karl knew each other when they were kids they kinda bonded together during school cus they were three non-lemur losers who got bullied for their eccentricity & varying levels of intelligence. Timo will sometimes go to Andy for stuff but he is his last resort really

•Masikura; probably mindmelded with him once & just saw a vision of him daydreaming about being kissed by Pancho & since then she was like. “Im not scared of the bird demon he’s just a big softie. where is my shipment of “ect” for my tea, that bird demon’s late again—“

•Ted; Ted is such an easy mark he can sell almost anything to him if he’s cheery enough. Helps that Ted thinks he’s really cute so Andy can just easily sweet talk him into buying whatever dodgy product he’s got at the moment. he knows & interacts with Ted mainly through Pancho being his friend!

•Dorothy; rlly wild hc actually that Dorothy used to be a propper crime don before she settled down with Ted— or when Ted was shifting into Snake more frequently back in the day for whatever reason—so Andy knows her from the criminal underworld. Cus of this he’s very respectful towards her... he’s seen what she’s capable of

•Willie; Andy could walk round the corner with his wings outstretched & say “boo” & Willie would pass out from shock. He’s also very easy for Andy to sell to- his fearmongering really works on Willie he’s very suseptable to it

•Hector; Hector doesn’t take any of Andy’s crap he’d probably just hit him with a broom if he came round his hut to sell him dodgy hand cream honestly

•Horst; Andy keeps him topped up with a steady supply of beverages...........Horst will actually sometimes ask him & Pancho for help with importing various new vinyl records

•Tammy, Butterfish & Todd; that family buys a LOT of product off him since they’re just typical americans basically he finds it rlly easy & reliable to sell stuff like drinks & toys to them. Tammy kinda hates Andy though & like Pancho, thinks he’s a demon. Doesn’t help that Mort nicknamed him “bird demon”.

•Karl; like with Timo i hc he knew him when they were in highschool—! Karl found Andy infuriating & so annoying though & didn’t consider him a friend at all. a lot of his early lazer guns were born from Karl’s growing need to shoot Andy out of the sky cus he’d fly up to get out of reach of his claws when he’d annoyed him.

•Dr. S; i hc that Andy and Dr.S are business or trading partners of sorts but they keep it very lowkey. Andy probably handles hits and the crazy snake doctor requires bodies and “test subjects” for his manic experiments. Andy is the perfect guy for the job! When Nurse Phantom is unable, Andy will hide the evidence of Dr.S’ malpractice for a reasonable fee, of course. He dislikes going to checkups himself though— he doesn’t like people knowing too much about him! Plus Dr.S always “””jokes””” about “””studying””” him because he finds the fact Andy is a flying mammal facinating & talks about using Andy’s wings to create a frankenstein flying lemur.

•Nurse Phantom; Rob just lectures him about being reckless & getting into fights everytime he sees him. Kinda the same as Dr. S really, but he does tell him like.. Hey I used to be pretty mean & put people in danger too. And that there’s always time to turn another leaf. Andy usually just scoffs, collects his paycheck, & leaves.

[wildroseofarran]

The Hurricane || Luna, Oliver, & Logan

Oliver: The evening was as expected in North Carolina before a terrible storm. Albemarle Sound was bristling with anticipation, waters gray and anything but calm. Oliver Langdon Cole slammed his fist into the bench seat of his 1978 Ford Pickup. Five tries. The engine simply refused to turn over. In the back of his head he knew why. The battery needed replacing months ago. This was his own damn fault for being so cheap.

The first strike of lightening. The fingertips of the hurricane had arrived.

Cole leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Tristan? He'd just left for home. There was no way he'd be calling him.

Luke: "Aw, hell." Luke gave the sky an uneasy glance through his windshield. It looked every bit as mean and nasty as the ocean did. They were in for a bitch of a storm and if he didn't get a move on, he was going to be caught in it.

Next time Pete could go and negotiate his vendor contracts and Luke could be the one listening to the zydeco band audition and deciding whether to--

"Aw, hell."

His Camaro slowed to a stop as he spotted a very familiar truck.

Oliver: The whistling wind and patter of the first rain was all he had noticed. With his eyes out of use, he searched for the necklace underneath his flannel button down. He felt the recycled glass rings on the very old silver chain. They were pushed to the side. Not that necklace. The 9 mm bullet on the ball chain. The cap was carefully removed, revealing two pristine white tablets.

Might as well, he thought, taking a deep inhale and popping them in his mouth.

Luke: Luke tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Should he stop? Keep going? What if Oliver was having car trouble? There was no other reason Luke could think of to explain why he'd be on the side of the road with a storm about to break.

It had already started to rain.

"Goddammit." Luke pulled over and got out. If Oliver didn't want his help, he'd just leave.

Oliver: Oliver had opened his eyes, but his attention was to the east, towards the hideous storm with an agenda. He'd have to walk home eventually. No tow truck was going to even consider coming out here...

Luke: Turn. Turn your head. Don't make me knock on the window, it'll be so much easier if I don't have to knock. Turn your head, Oliver.

Luke sighed. No such luck. Of course.

He knocked on the window, waiting for Oliver to turn to him before giving him a tight smile in greeting.

"Hi. Need some help?"

Oliver: Perhaps to Luke's surprise, the man did not flinch. He turned his gaze towards what could only be a person and sighed. Down rolled the window.

"Hey, stalker."

Luke: "Not stalking you. God is pranking us both. Need some help?"

Oliver: "What, don't wanna slide in and watch the world flood?"

Luke: "I can do that in my own car."

Oliver: "Yeah but ya love me."

Luke: Luke sighed. "Do you need help or not, Ollie? I'm not out here trying to get pneumonia."

Oliver: "'Scuse me. The fuck you just call me?"

Luke: He winced. Fuck. He'd been calling Oliver Ollie in the privacy of his own mind for so long that he hadn't noticed his slip.

"Yes or no? I'm about to let you get washed away by the flood."

Oliver: "Ya wouldn't do that. Ya like me too much."

A quick glance was given to their surroundings and he felt for his bag of sour candies in his glove compartment.

"Gonna tether t'that tree there."

Luke: "All right, fine. Have fun being the water version of The Wizard of Oz. Call me when you get out of Kansas, Dorothy."

He started back to his car.

Oliver: "The fuck are ya goin' on about now?"

Luke: "You obviously have no interest in getting off the side of the road and out of the storm."

Oliver: "I just fuckin' said I'm tetherin' her down. Ya know...flood?"

Luke: "You can do that or you can tell me what the problem is and let me help you so you can go home."

Oliver: "The fuckin' battery s'dead, know-it-all."

Luke: "The problem's that simple and you'd rather tie it to a tree? Unbelievable." He pressed the button to open his trunk. "Pop your hood."

Oliver: "It's fuckin' rainin'!"

Luke: "God invented these crazy things called umbrellas."

Oliver: "Who asked you? Ya wanna wait out here for ten goddamn minutes when you're so ready t'leave? I ain't got an umbrella."

Luke: "Hush and pop your hood. I've got an umbrella. In fact I have two, one for each of us."

Luke grabbed a set of jumper cables from his trunk and popped his own hood.

Oliver: "You goddamn bossy sonofabitch," the host muttered, double-checking his necklace before stepping out of his truck.

Luke: He'd been called worse. Not that it mattered at the moment. This was probably the most successful interaction the two of them had ever had.

Luke hooked up his end and turned to Oliver. "Ready?"

Oliver: Maybe they could just stare at their respective engines the entire time, he thought bitterly. The hood was popped just enough, hovering over with the umbrella.

"The fuck ya got two of these for?"

Luke: “Situations like these,” he said, making sure all connections were secure before starting his car.

Oliver: "This is so much safer than leavin'."

Luke: “Why you’re very welcome, Oliver. Happy to help a fellow townsman.”

Oliver: "Ya can't demand this and bitch at me."

Luke: “Watch me.”

Oliver: "Oh yeah. Of course," he grumbled, tossing a sour lemon candy in his mouth, "you're you."

Luke: “What, like you’re always a ray of sunshine?”

Oliver: "Not when I wake up with a man on top of me."

Luke: Luke felt his face heat. “And apparently not when you avoid having to wait out a storm for hours on end.”

Oliver: "M'sorry, I like livin'."

Luke: “You are. The umbrella is protecting you and the engine.”

Oliver: "Until lightning strikes me down. You first, though."

Luke: “The umbrella is plastic.”

Oliver: "We're -" have a deep sigh through pursed lips. "Why were ya on top of me?"

Luke: “We’ve been over that.” Luke wouldn’t sigh back, but he was sure Oliver could hear the desire to do so in his voice. “You don’t believe me and think I’m insane.”

Oliver: "So tell me the truth n'I'll believe ya."

Luke: “Why? I have before and you didn’t accept it.”

Oliver: "I said the truth!"

Luke: This time Luke did sigh. “I’m too tired for this conversation, Oliver. I’ve told you the truth. Whether you believe it or not, that’s up to you. Asking me again won’t change my answer.”

Oliver: "You're a fuckin' lawyer. Ya know what - ya'd tell your equivalent t'plead insanity!"

Luke: Another long sigh. “Believe me, I know. God knows I know. Think I haven’t questioned my sanity ten million times? Think I would put myself through this voluntarily?”

Oliver: "Even with logic ya bring it back t'that. It's like a fuckin' magic trick."

Luke: “Knowing how batshit crazy I sound doesn’t mean I’m denying the reality of my life.”

Oliver: "N'this is why ya stay away from me. Why - Whatever."

Luke: “Don’t whatever me, you’re the one who brought it up.”

Oliver: "Ya can't get mad at me when you're the crazy."

Luke: “I’m not crazy, and even if I was, crazy people are allowed to be angry.”

Oliver: "Ya can't molest me n'get mad at me."

Luke: “I didn’t fucking molest you, Oliver. I leaned on you.”

Oliver: "Ya laid on me."

Luke: “Splitting hairs.”

Oliver: "D'ya hear yourself?"

Luke: “Do you? You woke up fully clothed. I was fully clothed. My hands were nowhere near your dick or your ass. I did not molest you. I was simply leaning on you. Or laying if that’s the word you wanna use.”

Oliver: "I feel like a fuckin' broken record. How the fuck would ya feel if ya woke up like I had?!"

Luke: “I’d be pretty fucking weirded out, Ollie. I don’t blame you for that. I would assume I’d gotten blackout drunk and had fallen asleep on my couch with someone, which surprise surprise, I have. I’ve already told you my only defense and you don’t accept it. You told me to stay away from you and I have. After your car starts, I’m gone. I’ll go on my merry way. Matter of fact, why don’t you try starting the engine.”

Oliver: "It all goes down the shitter when ya keep claimin' some - some ghost shit. Then it's all just some fuckin'...gaslightin' thing."

Fine. He handed the umbrella over and back to the driver's seat he went.

Luke: "If I could conjure an apparition to convince you and prove I'm telling the truth, I would." Maybe he could. Maybe there was something he could do to prove the truth to Oliver. If he saw something with his own two eyes when he didn't have a migraine, he had to believe it, right?

It was definitely something to think about.

Oliver: Just tell me what I want to hear, he thought. Why do you have to adhere to being psycho?

Attempt one got him nowhere. For a moment he thought he had flooded it. Attempt two seemed more sure of itself but also failed. He wasn't going to scream. He wasn't going to punch something. He simply leaned back and closed his eyes again.

Luke: Luke was no mechanic, but that did not sound good. Either time. Although the second time sounded slightly less bad than the first time.

"We'll give it a little while longer," he said evenly, watching the rain.

Oliver: No response came from the man in the truck, the one nodding as though Luke could see him.

Luke: That was fine. If they didn't talk, Oliver couldn't--once again--call him crazy.

Better to let the jumper cables do their thing while he texted Pete to tell him why he was late.

Oliver: His attention returned to the wild and furious ocean, soothed by its growls and the crack of gorgeous thunder across the horizon. Not nearly as picturesque as a crisp clear day with the sun baking his skin, but the world was alive, and though it did not reflect on his face, it stirred him.

Luke: The storm might've been soothing Oliver, but it was annoying the hell out of Luke. Of course it was storming the day he happened to run into Oliver and his dead ass battery.

A few minutes later he said, "Try now!"

Oliver: Another try, the same result. A fist into his seat later he tried again. This was the consequence of neglect. In a fit of defeat, the truck was shut off. He then headed to the toolbox on the back of the truck for the chain.

Luke: Luke sighed. Yep, that battery was dead as a doornail.

"Better call a tow truck. They'll come out if you promise them a case of beer."

Oliver: "No one's comin' out here."

Luke: “That’s what the case of beer is for. Chris will come out if you promise him a case of beer.”

Oliver: "Stop tryin' t'fuckin' help me. Bad shit happens n'just let it fuckin' happen, Luke. You're hurtin' my brain, man."

Luke: A voice in the back of his head loudly and gleefully screamed ‘I told you so! This is what you get!’

The voice was right. He knew what was going to happen and he’d still stopped. That was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it?

“All right, fine. You wanna stay out here? Be my guest.” He shut off his car, removed the cables, slammed the hood.

“Good luck with your dead fucking battery and the damage the flood is probably going to do to your car. Been a real treat seeing you.”

He hopped in his car and started it.

Oliver: Finally, peace. This man was too much of everything. Too stubborn the night they had met; too handsy; too insane; too unwilling to admit to lies. The man was too happy and far too optimistic. Watching the man, finally in a sour mood slam into his car, he wondered what it was he had done to catch his attention. Artificial light versus a moth, he added to himself.

"Bye, then." He'd chain the truck to the tree. At least then he'd be able to find it should the water rise high enough to reach it. He knew it was a shit plan but it was better than having no idea where it would be by Monday.

Luke: Had Luke known that Oliver was that relieved to see him not only leaving, but leaving on in a bad mood, he would’ve turned around and forced as much help on him as he possibly could. Because apparently that was the way to annoy the hell out of Oliver; be nice to him.

Actually...

“Fuck it.” He was going to call the damn tow truck. Oliver could just deal with it.

Oliver: The hell was he doing? Oliver poked his head out of the window, wind and misty rain be damned.

"Whateryadoin'?"

Luke: Him? Oh nothing. He was simply going to pull out his phone and dial a number and pretend he didn’t hear Oliver.

Oliver: "Hey! What are ya doin'?!"

Luke: Luke lowered his window just long enough to say, “Making a call, what does it look like I’m doing?”

He rolled his window back up and proceeded to try and talk Chris into coming out.

Oliver: "WHAT kinda fuckin' call?!"

Luke: Nope, back to ignoring. He was scowling as he talked to the person on the other line, clearly having a hard time doing whatever he was doing.

It was another couple of minutes before he finally hung up.

Oliver: This was reality now. He knew calling the police would be useless. This man was a lawyer and could chance his story at any time. What the fuck was he meant to do?

"Kay, thanks. Great."

Luke: “Better stay in your car,” he called. “Storm’s picking up.” For his part, he thought it best to leave before Chris arrived. His services had already been paid for.

Oliver: "Luke, what did ya do, goddammit?"

Luke: “Nothing you have to worry about.”

Oliver: "I swear to fuckin' god, man."

Luke: “You’re not gonna be hurt or inconvenienced or put out in any way.”

Oliver: "Can't just fuckin' tell me anything, can ya?"

Luke: Like I haven’t tried, he thought. “I can tell you it’ll be about ten minutes until you see for yourself.”

Oliver: "Ya leavin'? Who the fuck did ya call?"

Luke: “Do you want me to leave?”

Oliver: "If ya ain't gonna be truthful, yeah."

Luke: “I’m being evasive, there’s a key difference. If you really must know, I called Chris.”

Oliver: "He's got family. He ain't comin' out here."

Luke: “He’s still on the clock. He’ll be here soon.”

Oliver: "I don't owe ya."

Luke: “Didn’t say you did.”

Oliver: Well then, "Good!" he huffed.

Luke: “Yep, sure is. Good talk.” And now to wait for Chris to arrive with his tow truck.

Oliver: Even sitting across from one another felt like torture. He wanted to yell at his helpfulness. He wanted to shake the man until he spilled truth from his lips. He thought back to their first meeting, how he was dissuaded from driving drunk; how he had pitied the man and his loss. Strange man, but no threat. He remembered the shock of waking with a warm body on top of him, with no memory of why.

His cheeks flushed pink.

"Ya can go, now," he called.

Luke: “I’ll go when Chris arrives. Won’t be more than a couple minutes.” Besides, he had a feeling Oliver would refuse Chris’ services if he left.

Luckily, he could see the truck approaching in the distance. Oliver would be rid of him soon.

Oliver: He would as soon as he saw the headlights. His jacket was zipped to his neck before stepping out into the unforgiving whistling wind. He just had to put up with this a few more minutes. Maybe he could hitch a ride from Chris after.

Luke: Chris’ annoyance at being out in the storm was obvious, but he was pleasant enough as he greeted Oliver and set about hitching his truck.

“Want me to take it to your place or to my garage?”

Oliver: "My place, man. Thanks for this. Didn't expect ya out here in this weather."

Luke: “No problem. I’ll go out in anything as long as I get paid, brother.”

Oliver: "I guess I know that for next time. Was gonna fuckin' walk my ass home."

Luke: "In this? Don't know if that makes you ballsy as fuck or dumber than a box of rocks."

Oliver: "It's me, Chris. I'm both," he smiled.

Luke: Chris laughed. “The two go hand in hand with you, Cole. Catching a lift with me or with Graham?”

Oliver: "You," he said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Luke: He thought nothing of it, though it did kind of surprise him. “All right, cool. Hop in, almost done here.”

Oliver: "Kay. Thanks, man." Barely a glance was given to the man who'd called him.

Luke: “No problem.” Chris nodded and waved at Luke, who waved back.

For a second there he thought he’d become invisible, which ended up making him think, which in turn had depressed him.

Sighing, he pulled onto the road and went on his way.

Oliver: He'd been noticed. The glance his way hadn't been seen, it seemed, as nothing had been said in regard to him. Thank god, he thought. This was meant to be a gesture worth gratitude, but he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. He'd just keep Chris busy with conversation until the house. Work, Tristan, the season and its effect on fishing. Once home, he knew what he'd need. Several tall glasses of beer.

Luke: Luke had made it back to the pub no worse for the wear, if a bit quiet. He’d given Pete the copies of the renegotiated contracts and had gone home. He didn’t feel like being around people at the moment.

Or for the next few days. He just went to the library and worked as usual, then went back home with barely any deviation.

Dana/Oliver: Oliver had remained home. As there was nothing to do until the hurricane had passed, he had resolved himself to drinking and an ill attempt at a phone call with his daughter.

Days later, as Luke walked through Peter's house, another phone call had been made. One which had rung twice and decided better.

Luke: Luke hurried to adjust his backpack and armload of case files to search his pocket for his phone.

He sighed when saw the missed call notification. Time to play ‘Ollie or Dana?’.

The deciding factor was usually another attempt at a call, so he waited for a few moments to see what would happen.

Dana: This time, there would be no further calls from his expected love interest. An hour would pass in silence. Another phone call by an unknown number. A single ring and nothing.

No further calls for the evening.

Luke: He had no idea what was keeping him from returning the calls except sheer curiosity and a little bit of....fear? Maybe that was too strong a word. Trepidation? Who the hell knew.

When he finally decided to take matters into his own hands, he started by calling the unknown number.

Dana: Two rings in and the call was answered by the newly familiar Australian voice.

"How are you holding up in this weather?"

Luke: Luke took a long, shaky breath. He’d chosen correctly. The game wouldn’t end in tears this time.

“Oh, you know. M’about as chipper as the hurricane.”

Dana: "Do you want to go to the bottle-o with me?"

Luke: “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Okay.”

Dana: The hurricane was pretty much gone at this point. He was confident in his request. "I'll walk to you. I'll be there soon."

Luke: “Okay. See you in a bit.”

Dana: In what little respect Tolvin could muster, every dirt and back road was taken to conceal his route, taking to the backdoor to knock rather than exposing their meeting.

{Text} I'm here.

Luke: {Text} I’ll be right down

Luke checked himself in the mirror before going downstairs. In deference to the storm and the drop in temperature that followed, he wore jeans and a light gray sweater. There was no product in his hair or any special care taken, but he’d showered and his clothes were clean. That was about all he could manage.

He tried the front door first, and finding the porch empty, made his way to the back.

“Hey,” he said softly. He sounded and looked completely defeated.

Dana: Oliver seemed to have cleaned up, if not for the fact that there was no Oliver. His clothes were clean and without dog hair. His hair and skin fresh from a shower. His beard had been managed, both combed and trimmed from his lips. All for the man in the doorway.

"Do you wilt in poor weather? Is that what's happened to you?" Tolvin smiled, one utterly different from what he had seen from Oliver.

Luke: It was like one of his dream filters had been applied to reality and a soft, comforting glow had temporarily been applied to his life. Temporarily being the key word.

This cleaned up version of Oliver who wasn’t really Oliver who smiled at him like he mattered and wouldn’t call him crazy wouldn’t last. This was a spell and he was....Cinderella.

He tried to return the smile. “Something like that. How are you?”

Dana: His prince charming was watching him intently when he realized that smile was not true to form.

"Something like that. What's happened?"

Luke: “Just a rough patch. I’m fine, really.”

Dana: "Do you want to stay here?"

Luke: “Been stuck in here and the library for days because of the storm. Some fresh air would be nice.”

Dana: "Liquor store and Oliver's, or a pub, then?"

Luke: “Liquor store and....somewhere other than Oliver’s. The beach, the woods, doesn’t matter.”

Dana: "Would you be opposed to a boat?"

Luke: “I wouldn’t be opposed at all.” A boat sounded great actually.

Dana: "To the bottle-o and the docks, then. Ready?"

Luke: Luke double checked his pockets for his keys, phone, and wallet, nodding. “Yep, I’m ready.”

Dana: The long scenic route to the nearest liquor store was deliberately taken, not just for privacy, but for as much time as possible before his will disintegrated.

"You saw him recently, didn't you?"

Luke: This too was much needed. Moments of privacy seemed so rare in this town.

He nodded. “I did, yeah. Day the storm hit.”

Dana: "Tell me what happened."

Luke: “Was coming back from doing some work for the pub and came across him on the side of the road. His battery was dead, I offered him a jump start, he said he was just going to try tying his truck to the tree, I decided to just give him the jump start. Then we ended up where we always end up.”

Dana: "With him in denial, and you insisting on the truth." He could imagine how they parted ways. At least Luke was absent a bruise this time. And tears.

Luke: He sighed and nodded. There weren’t any tears now, and there hadn’t been any in the moment, but there had been plenty in between. “Yeah. Right there. With a reiteration of ‘you’re crazy’ as the cherry on top.”

Dana: "As expected. No one in my family knew. My daughter doesn't know. Her mother has a vague idea. Enough that she didn't want me around."

Luke: “Right. As expected.” On some level—hell, on quite a few levels—he knew that. He understood that. But on even more levels, he was himself, and pretending the truth wasn’t the truth wasn’t something that came easily to him.

There was a very good reason he only represented clients who were innocent.

Dana: Tolvin offered his hand. "Not everyone can handle your strength, Luke. I couldn't."

Luke: Luke took it. “What strength? Look at me, Dana. I’m a mess. Logan is the strong one.”

Dana: "Had you moved on in any way since my death?"

Luke: “No. You being here proves that.”

Dana: He smiled to himself. "Does it?"

Luke: “It does. Love is the only thing in this world stronger than death. Forgot where I heard that but it’s true.”

Dana: "Could it be that I have unfinished business with you?"

Luke: “It’s love. Let me hang on to that at least.”

Dana: Alright. "Fine. It's love."

Luke: “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Dana: "You already know why I'm here."

Luke: “Because we love each other.”

Dana: "I told you why when I returned," he continued steadily.

Luke: Luke sighed. “I know, Dana. I remember the conversation. I’m trying to find a little glimmer of hope and positivity in my life. Please let me. Just for today. Please.” I’m begging you.

Dana: "There is nothing depressing in knowing you are one of my reasons for lingering in the Skinlands, Luke."

Luke: “Let me for one second just enjoy you being here without thinking about you being dead, Dana. Do you want me to beg? I will. I’ll drop to my knees and beg you if it means I can just pretend this is a normal situation for just a little bit.”

Dana: He knew the question would be sudden, but there was a point to it. "Do you like this body?"

Luke: Luke gave Dana a confused glance. “Oliver’s a handsome man.”

Dana: "This is normal. I am Oliver Cole. Kiss this body."

Luke: “Oliver Cole thinks I should be in a padded room. I don’t want to kiss him, I want to kiss you and you are in his body which is objectively attractive. Keeping you separate keeps me sane.”

Dana: "So separation is your normal?"

Luke: “If I didn’t separate you from him they would have to put me in a padded room, Dana. I love you. I want you. When I think about you I don’t picture his body or his face, I picture yours.”

Dana: "Then how will you kiss me, or enjoy my touch when it's his skin?"

Luke: “Because of that separation. You’re using his body but it’s you. Not him.”

Dana: "Do you want to keep him?"

Luke: “I couldn’t bear to go through this process again with another person. It’s fucked up enough already.”

Dana: "I suppose for you it is."

Luke: He squeezed Dana’s hand. Luke knew he lived by a new set of rules now but hearing that just...

“Let’s talk about something else. How are you?”

Dana: "I'm well enough. I was pleasantly surprised by an artifact I found deep in the - Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

Luke: “In the Umbra?”

Dana: "Yes. A specific area."

Luke: “What does the artifact do?”

Dana: The wraith's smile grew. "Let's keep you out of the Umbra for a little while longer."

Luke: Luke nodded. “What else have you been doing?”

Dana: "Hmm. How long has it been since we last spoke?"

Luke: “A while. Weeks.”

Dana: "Just weeks," he said to himself. "It's been longer for me, where I was. We can call it self-discovery."

Luke: “The good kind?”

Dana: Hmm. "I believe so."

Luke: Another nod. “Then I’m glad.”

Dana: "Bring me up to speed on your goings on."

Luke: “Not much to tell. Still staying with Pete and working from home.”

Dana: "Why do you live in Raleigh when you're rarely there?"

Luke: “It’s only in the past couple years that I spend more time here than there.”

Dana: "Have you considered moving back?"

Luke: “I’m here for my mental health.”

Dana: "So remain here. Sell your home. Be happy."

Luke: “My firm is in Raleigh. My partners are understanding enough to let me work from home precisely because I am a partner. I have friends, clients, a whole life in Raleigh.”

Dana: "And yet you're here."

Luke: "Having a mental breakdown will do that."

Dana: "Your friends cannot help you?"

Luke: "How can they? They don't know what's going on with me and I'm not gonna put it on them. They'll think I've gone completely insane like Oliver does and I wouldn't blame them. Hell, I don't blame Oliver."

Dana: "Well who here knows that can help you? Your brother? Logan?"

Luke: “No one knows. Just you.”

Dana: "You're here for me, then?"

Luke: “Yes. You’re here and so am I.”

Dana: "You need more reason than that."

Luke: “Getting to be here with the man I love is better than sitting in an empty condo feeling like I’m dying inside from loneliness.”

Dana: "But I have to reiterate that you have friends in Raleigh. You're not alone."

Nearing the liquor store, Luke was turned and, as bravery would have it, softly given a kiss.

"We're going to see Logan today."

Luke: "My friends in Raleigh are human, Dana. They supported me and they were there for me when you died but everything that's come after? I can't talk to them about that. Can't talk to my family about it either." He couldn't even talk to Logan, which gave him an unending amount of guilt.

Still, the kiss was accepted and returned with a soft smile that quickly gave way to surprise. "Really? We're going to tell her?" Had he thought the matter into existence?

Dana: "How she decides to react, remember to take nothing personally. That's all I ask of you."

Luke: "She'd be well within her right to punch us both."

Dana: "Not you. Just me. I told you not to say anything. It's my choice."

Luke: "I still kept something major from her. But whether she's pissed or not, I'm so glad you decided to tell her."

Dana: At least he seemed in a better mood.

"What are you having to drink?" he asked as he stepped inside. The store was quiet. A young couple quietly argued over what to bring to a party. An aged woman sat quietly on her side of the counter, fiddling with her phone.

Luke: Slightly better yes, but also more nervous. He had no idea how Logan would react to her brother in someone else’s body.

“Just beer is fine. Blue Moon.”

Dana: A Blue Moon for Luke, and a bourbon Oliver frequented for himself. Should he inquire, nothing should seem out of the ordinary.

"Docks first, or Logan?"

Luke: “Logan. We’ll get her a Smirnoff Ice.”

Dana: "I've never seen one of those in Oliver's house," said for Luke's ears only. "You'll have to buy that one."

Luke: Luke nodded. “I’ll grab her some.”

Dana: "Is there anything else?"

Luke: “Not that I can think of. Is there anything you want to bring her?”

Dana: "I can't think of anything relevant."

Luke: “All right. You go ahead and pay while I get her drink.”

Dana: So he would, and he would wait for Luke outside of the store by the grass.

Luke: Luke came out a few moments later with drinks in hand.

“Still wanna go on a boat?”

Dana: "You said Logan first."

Luke: “I meant afterwards. Figured we could invite her.”

Dana: "If...Depends on her mood."

Luke: “It’d be a good distraction if things go less than great.”

Dana: "We'll have to see."

Luke: Luke nodded again. “Yeah.” He reached for Dana’s free hand. “Come on.”

Dana: He took the offered hand and nodded. Luke would have to lead the way, as his feet had turned to lead.

Luke: That was okay. He didn’t blame Dana for any nerves or worry or even reluctance to finally tell Logan. This was an intense situation, a gut-wrenching situation, and they had no idea how it was going to play out.

So he kissed Dana’s hand and walked them in the direction of the little cabin Logan had made her home.

A few things had changed since Dana would have seen it last. There were a few motion-activated cameras in the trees on the road and the path leading to the cabin. Some flower beds had been planted nearby, the truck parked out front was clean and appeared to be repainted, the lawn was pristine. There was even a wind chime on the little porch.

Dana: Dana quietly calculated the cost of every item leading to the front door of their temporary safehouse. Hundreds of dollars for the cameras. A fistful of dollars for the flowers. Repainting a truck could spiral to over a thousand depending on the paint and the garage.

"Hmm." She made roots. He needed to pull them.

Finally, Luke was passed in order to be the first to knock.

Luke/Logan: Luke held his breath as Dana knocked. He couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his mind. There was no way he’d be pleased that Logan was making a home here. Or, if they were being honest, had already made a home here.

It was a few moments before she finally came to the door and opened it with a smile that was both delight and curiosity. She was a bit thinner than the last time Dana had seen her, but healthy enough. Her hair was a bit shorter.

And she was currently wearing an apron stained with icing and chocolate.

“Luke!” She greeted him with a hug. “You’re a nice surprise. Who’s your friend?”

Dana: The man by Luke's side seemed to have lost his tongue. He wouldn't have been the first man. A certain human in town had taken that title.

He had seen Logan in Edenton through Oliver's eyes before. Never to say hello. Seeing their safehouse and what she had done, seeing her wrapped in an apron playing with a domestic life was enough to sever his speech. He should have expected this, given the space of his absence.

At last, he managed to find his voice. "It's been a long time, jellybean."

Luke/Logan: The silence stretched and Logan began to grow more confused, looking between Luke and the man beside him, waiting for one of them to speak.

“....Luke?”

Luke tried to figure out what to say. Should he introduce them as normal? Rip the bandaid off right away? Let Dana rip it off?

Shit. Well, it looked like Dana was going to do exactly that.

Logan’s pleasant smile fell away in an instant. Her face went hard and cold and Luke could practically feel her guard raising.

“Excuse me? Luke, who is this man?”

Dana: Tolvin smiled. That's my girl, he thought.

"Good to see you haven't lost all of your instincts." He took a breath. A hand was brought to Oliver's chest.

"This is borrowed. You know who I am."

Luke/Logan: Luke could see that Logan was ready to slam the door or maybe go for the shotgun she kept beside it so he stepped in front of Dana to intervene.

“Lo, don’t freak out. Let me explain.”

“Explain what? Why this—man is pretending to know me and saying precious things he has no business saying? Who the hell is he?”

Oh god, she was pissed already. “He’s not some random man. Well, not exactly. It’s...” He took a deep breath. “It’s Dana, Lo.”

Dana: "You've heard my voice without a body. You know I exist. The fact that I'm possessing now a surprise to you?"

Luke/Logan: She gave the man a withering look. “Stop it, both of you. This isn’t funny.”

“Believe me, Logan, I know. This is the least funny thing I have ever told you.”

“Then you also know that my brother would never possess someone. He dedicated his life to killing anything that threatened human life.”

Dana: "I've been gone a long time jellybean. I've lived from a different perspective longer than I've been gone. It's not ideal, but this body was chosen mindfully, I promise you that."

Luke/Logan: “The two of you really expect me to believe that my brother, my Dana, would possess a civilian? I don’t know who the hell you are but I’ve had about enough of this.” She turned to Luke. “I know it’s been rough for us both but you can’t tell me you buy this. You’re a rational man, how can you possibly believe the man you love would do this?”

Luke took another deep breath. “I know it’s a lot to take in and accept but I swear to God that I am not lying to you and that he is not lying to you. Please, let’s just all sit down and have a drink and talk, please.”

Logan looked between the two of them for a long time before stepping aside to let them in.

Dana: She must’ve known in her heart of hearts. She wouldn't have let him in otherwise. Why, when it would have been a lie? He waited for Luke to pass first, lingering in the doorway once inside, eyes fallen to his sister.

Luke/Logan: Small changes had transformed the interior of the cabin as well. New curtains hung from the windows, the floors had been polished to a near gleam, and what once had been an empty section of wall with an empty hallway table in front of it was now a memorial altar built to Dana Tolvin. Candles, flowers, incense, and a small cross were arranged carefully and reverently around photos of her brother to honor his memory and try to help him find peace.

Luke broke the silence this time. "Why don't I go put these in the fridge to chill for a bit?" he said, taking all the bottles of alcohol.

"Fine. Mind the cake in there." She removed her apron. "It's for a birthday party tomorrow."

"I'll be careful. Ya'll sit."

Dana: The alter was studied, his new face touched as he squinted at the aged photographs. There was something unnerving in the worship of his memory. It reminded him of alters he'd found in the Necropolis. Those by Gaunts, old, proud wraiths with still existing fetters despite centuries lost.

Tolvin turned to face the huntress and sighed.

Logan: He’d find her glaring at him. If he dared say a single word about the way she’d chosen to honor her brother’s memory he was going to have hell to pay and everything written on her face said that quite clearly.

She still hadn’t accepted that this man—who she was pretty sure she’d seen before—contained her brother’s spirit.

Dana: "I don't recall alters like this being allowed by Mother Superior, even for Jesus. My memory is a bit cramped, but that much I recall," he said gently.

Logan: “I’m not a nun or a child in school. I’m an adult and last I checked that gives me the authority to do whatever the hell I like in my own home.”

Dana: "It's not a home. It's a safehouse. One I've already told you to leave."

Logan: “I refer you to my earlier statement. I am an adult and I don’t know you and you don’t know me. And if you really expect me to accept or even entertain the idea that Dana Tolvin decided to possess an innocent man you’re going to have to do more than pretend to be him.”

Dana: "I'm not going to do anything, Logan. You know better than to expect me to prove anything to you. You know and honor my word, or you do not. It's that simple. Do you think I simply dissolved into Oblivion since you last heard my voice?"

Logan: “My brother would lecture me to hell and back for being naive enough to believe a random man I didn’t know held his spirit after more than a year of nothing on words alone. I heard his voice once and then never again. I thought I was crazy, I thought I imagined it or dreamed it or hallucinated it after I finally had a nervous breakdown. I tried every summoning ritual I could find, I asked Father Patrick for help, I researched and studied with Luke by my side until we were both crossed-eyed and our heads hurt from reading. And still nothing. Silent, indifferent, nothing. I thought that was a sign from God, telling me that he was in Heaven where he belonged, that somehow he was at peace and I made myself believe it because that was less painful than the nothing I kept getting for my efforts.”

She wiped her face. There was nothing to be done about the tears but she’d be damned if she broke down. “After all that, you expect me to just accept that the man I knew would do something so invasive to another person, you expect me not to question it? Not to question my own sanity after I’ve been speaking into a void for so long?”

Dana: He'd been better off allowing her to hold hope in both hands. This was closure, as messy as it felt, for both Luke and Logan. How could he possibly begin to explain his world to these two fetters? Where would their inquiry end, and when would they have peace? He could very well lose one of them before being drained from this body.

"Luke was with you. You both spoke to me and heard and felt me." A delirium in its own right that she would rationalize. "I don't blame you for being hurt, but time is not the same where I am now. I've avoided skinriding for this very reaction. I was too impatient." He looked to Luke, adding, "And I was jealous."

Logan: “Luke didn’t hear you ever again either! Luke ended up thinking he was crazy, too!” It didn’t help that in her research she’d come across the phenomenon of shared delusions between people who were close.

“‘Skinriding’? Do you hear yourself? You had me blackballed for accepting a Druid’s help with healing you and now I’m supposed to believe you think it’s okay to possess people?!”

Dana: "Whether you accept it or not, I am here, and I am in this man. You can continue in your disbelief, but that does not alter reality. When I was human I was proud and untrusting. I still wouldn't trust a druid with this knowledge, let alone anyone else in this town. Most would recreate the memory of my telling them any truth about the afterlife to sleep better at night. It's one of the reasons this has been avoided. I cannot reach Transcendence with you here."

Fuck, he hadn't meant to say that.

Logan: Logan went very still. “One of the reasons this has been avoided? Exactly how long has it been avoided? How long have you been possessing this man?”

Dana: The man stood straighter. "So now you believe me, when deception is involved."

Logan: This was just too much. She was meant to believe that Dana was possessing someone, didn’t have a problem with it, had been doing it for an indeterminate amount of time, and had only now deigned to tell her for reasons apparently only he could understand?

She just gave the man in front of her a heartbroken look and went into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Dana: And this is why I was desperately urged not to do this, he thought. There was little to no hope of understanding, and at best, if this continued, he would be trapped in a Harrowing trial. The risk of such a forbidden art was beginning to seem unworthy in reward.

"I wouldn't mind that drink now," he sighed, heading to the fridge.

Luke: Luke wordlessly grabbed a glass for Dana.

“Give her a minute to catch her breath. This is a lot to take in, even for someone like her. You came to me in a face I recognized. Oliver’s face is unfamiliar to her.”

Dana: "Well, if I did that again," he said quietly, "she might have chopped my head off on principle."

Luke: “I think the principle is the bit she’s having trouble with. Hearing your voice is one thing, you being in someone else is another. I think it’s hard for her to believe you’d do this.”

Dana: "So I've gathered. Knowing how stubborn I can be, when the circumstances are based on -" another sigh. "I'm still stubborn, the reasoning is what's different."

Luke: “You’re not the only one who’s stubborn. So is she. But you both have to be a little flexible with each other right now. You can’t dig in your heels, otherwise there’s no point to this. You’ve got a chance to get each other back. You both need to take it and be patient and learn all the things about each other that have changed.”

Dana: "What would you have me do right now?"

Luke: “Sit, have your drink. I’ll have mine with you. If she’s not out in a few minutes I’ll go get her and we’ll all talk.”

Dana: "...Alright. A drink." So he would sit in the chair he used to.

Luke: Luke nodded and joined him with his own drink, taking Dana’s hand and squeezing it.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Dana: "Still?" he smiled weakly.

Luke: “Always.”

Dana: "Nothing lasts forever, Luke. A very long time, but not forever."

Luke: "Positive attitude, remember? We need good vibes today."

Dana: "The end of something shouldn't be so frightening to the Skinland."

Luke: "We're human, Dana. So were you not that long ago. We can't help it, we have a limited scope."

Dana: "On purpose. I still haven't fully comprehended the reasoning, but it exists."

Luke: "I can think of a few reasons." He took a sip of his beer and looked toward Logan's door.

Come on, he thought. Come out and give him a chance.

Dana: "My...initial belief is that you have time to develop, to honor the first phase of your life."

Luke/Logan: "Some people do that better than--"

Logan's door opening cut him off. She looked a little calmer, a little more composed, and (he hoped) more open-minded.

Dana: Tolvin stood immediately, waiting for her next move. If she told him to leave or join him outside, to sit, to do anything. He would wait on his feet.

Logan: Logan took a deep breath and went to the fridge to get her drink. She took a sip, came over, and sat in the chair across from them.

"Tell me something only you and I know," she said softly, meeting the man's gaze. "Something you've never told Luke."

Dana: He returned to his seat after her. He expected some version of a reverse Turing test. This they could do.

"I've never told him about the night I first met you," he said softly.

Logan: She took another deep breath. "Describe it. Tell me exactly what happened."

Dana: "We had been following small group of Brujah from the city to the suburbs. They were already injured. We were waiting for an opening. We had what we needed, but we had lost them. Dexter Nguyen heard you first. They had been quiet breaking in. They needed a quick meal. Your house must have seemed the easiest. Either way, I took you in my arms and told you to close your eyes. They were so wide, and you didn't want to shut them."

Logan: Logan tried not to focus on the horrified look she could see on Luke's face out of the corner of her eye.

"What happened next?"

Dana: "I was torn between leaving you to do my duty, and keeping you calm, but most importantly, quiet. At the time, your silence was paramount to your safety. They were so focused on finding the master bedroom that they had ignored the little door to the right with the flowers on it."

Logan: She nodded. Go on, her eyes said. She probably could've asked him to stop there, but she needed to be sure.

Dana: "Wilson was killed by the leeches. Nguyen almost died. I had to let you go long enough to save him. You were so loud and traumatized. I felt scattered and angry. I think I yelled at you once. I knew it would do little good. You had every right to cry. I put your face to my chest and carried you out. I had to let you go again for the system. I insisted we take you."

Luke/Logan: If he'd yelled Logan didn't remember. She just remembered her father's panicked voice and her mother's screams.

Luke finally chimed in. "How old were you?"

"Ten," Logan whispered. "How old were you?" she added to Dana.

Dana: The man sighed. "Nineteen. No...I was twenty. Wilson had been alive for my birthday," he recalled.

Logan: “What happened after you decided to take me?”

Dana: "Then it was out of my hands for months. As soon as you were with the church, you were back in my arms. We were to make something of you. You would either be a hunter or a nun, and you hated any form of dress."

Logan: "And now I own several," she mused. "So much for the Church's expectations."

Dana: "Since I died?"

Logan: "My friend June got them for me after she saw I didn't own any. I wear them on special occasions."

Dana: "I'm not the only one to have changed."

Logan: "My changes have been far less drastic." She studied him for a moment. "Who is he? The man whose body you're using."

Dana: "From your eyes."

Tolvin leaned back in his seat, offering a glance to Luke. "He's a longshoreman, a drug addict, an ex-military, and a neglectful father."

Logan: "Why on Earth would you choose someone like that?"

Dana: "Would you rather a respectable, well-loved and unforgettable man people would immediately notice acting out of normal behavior?"

Logan: "I'd rather you not be in anyone's body but your own but apparently that simply isn't an option."

Dana: "Not yet."

Logan: "'Yet'?"

Dana: "That's what I said. I can't elaborate right now."

Logan: “When will you be able to?”

Dana: "When I better understand it myself."

Logan: Logan nodded. "Okay."

Dana: Tolvin looked between them once more. "What now?"

Luke: "Well." Luke took a deep breath and tried for an encouraging smile. "Why don't we take our drinks and take a little sail together."

Dana: "That I wouldn't mind in my last hours."

Logan: Logan's brow furrowed. "Last hours?"

Dana: "I can only keep him for so long. Think... like leaving milk out of the fridge. Playing with fire."

Logan: Another nod. She supposed that made sense. Doing this had to require an incredible amount of energy on Dana's part. "Is he....aware?"

Dana: "He could be, but he isn't." Not most of the time.

Logan: "He has the option, you mean?"

Dana: "If his mind were open. Sometimes I feel him, sentient and judgmental, but remembers nothing once he's set to rights. It's the... It's denial. everything supernatural relies on it. We relied on it when we were hunters."

Logan: "How did you convince a man who doesn't believe....?"

Dana: "He has the potential for understanding. My belief is that some sort of trauma prevents his mind from opening. As it is, he's easiest to access when compromised with drugs or alcohol."

Logan: Jesus Christ. "Then help him. If not you, then you, Luke."

Dana: "It could very well be irreversible. I don't know everything about him just because I occupy his body."

Logan: "Maybe it is, many traumas are and for dozens of different reasons. But if there is a way you can help, I think you should. Some compassion for the man whose body you're using wouldn't just be good for him, it would be good for you. And for you, Luke."

Dana: "Then you do it, Logan. Meet him by chance and get to know him."

Luke/Logan: "I'm not going to meet him 'by chance' and get to know him simply to assuage our mutual guilt. If I do meet him by actual chance that's another matter. His life has had enough disruption. You're the one borrowing him and I think you should be the one to help him. If you're not willing or not able, so be it. Luke, are you willing?"

"He thinks I should be in a padded room."

"Why?"

"Because I told him about the ghost thing...?"

Dana: "You're assuming I have guilt, Logan. I don't. Our job was never about helping people, but ridding the world specifically of rogue vampires that don't even follow their own code. There were other chapters of our order for things like me. This guilt you believe I should have, I might have for someone else."

Luke/Logan: "Maybe it should have been. Maybe it should be for all hunters from now on. But that's not the point. You don't have guilt about this." Which concerned her in so many ways but again, not the point. "Okay. I do have guilt. And I don't want to help this man just to make myself feel better."

She turned to Luke. "I think you'll find that the overwhelming majority of humans would also believe you're crazy if you told them about our world and the vampires and spirits and myriad creatures within it. People just aren't equipped to handle it or process it. I wasn't when I was a little girl and all that happened. Dana can attest that I had night terrors and nightmares and flat out panic attacks for months, bordering on years."

Dana: He couldn't imagine anything relevant to say would help matters as far as guilt and altruism was concerned, so instead Tolvin settled with listening to get explanation to Luke.

Luke/Logan: Luke was frowning. "But he deserves to know the truth, that I'm not putting him or myself through this for no reason."

"Yes, he does. But if he's as deeply in denial as Dana says, you can shout the truth at him with all the force you can and he still won't believe it. He won't hear you."

"But--"

"This is a truth people aren't prepared for. Of course they all deserve to know, but literally everything around them convinces them not to. It's too scary, too foreign, too uncomfortable and when some of them do manage to believe, some simply can't take it and they lose their minds in a very real way." She looked to Dana for back up.

Dana: "Others will convince them that it's not real, or dismiss them, or more often than not, assume them to be dangerous and lock them away in a mental institution. Humans love doing that."

Luke/Logan: Logan nodded. "People fear--and persecute--what they don't understand."

Luke was silent for a few long moments, during which he took several sips of his beer. "So...what you're saying is I should stop trying to convince him I'm telling the truth?"

Dana: "Unless we find an indisputable method, I'm with Logan."

Luke: "Won't he be suspicious if I just suddenly stop the ghost talk?"

Dana: "It depends on what follows."

Luke/Logan: "Should I actively lie if he asks or....?"

"I would just not mention it. If he insists I'd just tell him you've reconsidered the ghost thing and leave it at that." She turned to Dana. "Do you think he'd accept that?"

Dana: "What I know is he believes Luke has been cruel to him. Thoughts like that need active balms."

Luke: "Then I need to apologize before anything else." He sighed. "Maybe I have been cruel, especially if he's in as deep denial as you say. He was just a normal dude living his life until we showed up in it and flipped it upside down."

Dana: "If I've had to learn anything where I'm now from, it's patience. That's what you'll need with him. Both of...all of us."

Luke: Luke nodded. "I owe him that much after...everything."

Dana: "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I'm on borrowed time right now. Let's not spend any more on the subject."

Luke/Logan: Another nod. "Let's go down to the docks then." He offered Logan a smile. "You in?"

The smile she gave him in return was muted, but genuine. "Sure. Let me get my keys."

Dana: Left alone, Luke was held by his forearm. Whispered to, "Give us a minute?"

Luke: "Yeah, of course," he whispered back. "Take your time. I'll be outside."

Dana: Tolvin nodded in thanks, waited for the front door to close, and stood.  "...What do you do for money?" he called across the cabin.

Logan: "A few different things. Father Patrick gave me a job after the Church dismissed me. I clean his church and teach Sunday school."

Dana: "Is it enough to afford this cabin?"

Logan: "I'd be okay if that was all I did. I also babysit and work freelance for the bakery making cakes and things for parties. That's what I was doing when you and Luke arrived."

Dana: "So, you keep yourself busy." He studied the house again, on the lookout for his old belongings.

"No hunting? Not been a rabbit?"

Logan: "Yes, on the advice of Father Patrick." She returned with jacket and keys in hand.

Dana's things were scattered throughout the house and his old bedroom, diligently cared for and treasured. The only things missing were the things she'd sent his daughter.

"He said keeping myself busy would help my depression."

Dana: "Keeping busy becomes an addiction after a while. It is where I'm from. Then again...obsession and...silence seem to run hand-in-hand. It's indescribable what I've seen. I wish I had the creative..." he sighed. "I think you'll find it fascinating, when the time comes."

Logan: "It's been...therapeutic in a way. There was a period of time when I didn't really leave the house or shower or do anything or really see anyone. Now at least I see people and make money to support myself. So I guess that's progress."

She took a deep breath. "I can only imagine what you've seen and experienced."

Dana: He would hold that conversation for now, more curious towards a particular subject. "Are you working towards American citizenship?"

Logan: "Eventually. Permanent residency for now. Father Patrick got me in contact with an immigration lawyer to help me."

Dana: The wraith scoffed. "I suppose you could marry a lawyer...one with no interest in...anyone else at the moment."

Logan: She frowned. "Marriage? God, no. Father Patrick is my sponsor."

Dana: "Would it be so bad returning to Australia?" He paused, knowing her answer would be geared towards him. "Have you heard from your godfather?"

Logan: "I don't feel welcome there anymore," she said softly. There was hurt in her voice. "The bishop made his opinion of me very clear the last time I went."

Logan nodded. "Yes. We're on friendlier terms."

Dana: "Your home is more than the church. It's the country itself. It's where your family lived." Still, what would he have done? He would have taken her body back home. He would carry her ashes in a locket.

"What have you learned about him?"

Logan: "My family lived here, too." She finally met his eyes. "Being there without you hurt. Being here without you hurts. But it hurts less because people don't whisper about me, or judge me, or let me know how much they disapprove of me."

She took a deep breath. "He's given me a part of my parents I didn't have before. He knows and remembers things I don't."

Dana: "Who is whispering about you in Australia, Logan?"

Logan: "Who else? Hunters and nuns."

Dana: "Are they blaming you for my death?"

Logan: "The hunters are. You're my partner and you died on my watch."

Dana: "You weren't with me. You were nowhere near me or you would also be dead. Is that what they would rather?" He sighed. For some, yes absolutely.

Logan: "Probably. They were tame compared to some of the nuns. What they said doesn't bear repeating."

Dana: "I want to know what they said."

Logan: Logan shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm here with you doing positive things with my life and they're there."

Dana: "Logan, do you understand why I haven't spoken to you?"

Logan: "To protect me from...I don't even know."

Dana: "So you'll go home."

Logan: She gave him a crushed look. "You wouldn't talk to me so I'd leave?"

Dana: "So you'd move on."

Logan: "Dana."

Dana: "Stop thinking emotionally for one moment, and switch roles with me."

Logan: "Okay. Are you asking what I would want for you if I were the one who'd died?"

Dana: "Yes."

Logan: "I'd want you to be happy and safe and loved."

Dana: "Yes, and you're not safe here."

Logan: "I'm not safe anywhere. Vampires exist everywhere, no one knows that better than we do."

Dana: "But this place is an exception. They know you worked with me. Why they've been lenient on you I don't know."

Logan: "Why? Because they broke me. And they know they broke me. I'm a Sunday school teacher. I bake cakes and pick up children from school when their parents are busy and sing in the church choir."

Dana: "Is that what you would have been had no vampire ever broken into your home?"

Logan: She gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know, maybe. My dad loved to bake. My mum could sing. But those are things I do to remember them and honor them so maybe I wouldn't have pursued them at all if I still had them. Maybe I'd be a completely different person. I am who I am because I lost them and you."

Dana: "I don't want that to be all that you are. Moving on doesn't mean neglecting those you've lost, Jellybean. That's not what I'm asking of you."

Logan: "What are you asking of me, Dana?"

Dana: "To not let the dead speak for your life. I don't want to be the driving force to your purpose. Think about that while we walk, alright?"

Logan: Logan nodded. "All right. I will."

Dana: There was that. Finally, he smiled in earnest. Progress was being made, whether her agreement was insincere or not, the seed was planted.

The door was opened for her, and a hand was placed on Luke as soon as he was within range.

Luke/Logan: It had been planted, and she loved and respected her brother enough to give the matter serious consideration.

She returned his smile and stepped outside, finding a very relieved-looking Luke.

He smiled at them. "Are we okay?"

Logan nodded and looked to Dana.

Dana: "Yes, we are." As proof, he kissed the top of Luke's head. "Can either of you drive?"

Logan: Logan jingled the keys. "I'll drive."

Dana: "Get ready for rolling stops, Luke."

Logan: She gave a mock gasp. "I do not do rolling stops."

Dana: "You very much do."

Logan: "Ridiculous," she said, unlocking the truck.

Dana: The door was held for Luke, as he was destined for the middle.

Luke/Logan: That was fine with him. He was well familiar with Logan's rolling stops.

"Seat belt," he reminded her as he put on his own.

Dana: "Must I?" Tolvin smirked.

Luke/Logan: Luke nodded. "Yep, you must. A speed demon is driving."

"I am not a speed demon," said the woman who pulled onto the road faster than most people would consider acceptable.

Dana: "I suppose I should look after this body." On the seat belt went. "Maybe that should be the first suggestion you give, Jellybean. The man never wears it."

Logan: "That doesn't surprise me, especially considering the amount of care he gives his body in general. Is his car safe at least?"

Dana: "It's a very broken pickup truck. Take from that what you will."

Luke: "Its battery sucks. Don't think he makes taking care of it a priority."

Dana: "He doesn't believe in garages, is his issue."

Luke: "Does he believe in having his car break down every five minutes?"

Dana: "It's been once since I found him."

Logan: "I suppose that's impressive." She turned onto the man road. "So he doesn't believe in the supernatural or taking care of his truck. What does he believe in?"

Dana: "Hard labor," he shrugged.

Logan: "Is that all? Does he have any family or pets or friends?"

Dana: "A bloodhound. What's his name, Luke?"

Luke/Logan: "Humphreys. He's sweet and friendly and seems well taken care of."

"So he does believe in something. That's encouraging."

Dana: "A very typical American. Ex-military. Each layer of his life is response to the previous. The drugs due to headaches due to his profession, due to something else."

Logan: She nodded, understanding dawning. “Post-traumatic stress. He definitely needs help.”

Dana: "Do you know Tristan Seger?"

Luke/Logan: Logan shook her head. “I don’t think so. Who is he?”

“Oliver’s boss.”

Dana: "A fisherman he works for. The only help he turns to in my experience."

Logan: “Why him?”

Dana: "I don't know."

Luke/Logan: “This Tristan must’ve earned his trust.”

“He’s a good guy,” said Luke. “He dated Callum a few years ago.”

Dana: "The druid?"

Luke: “Yeah. Way way back when Callum first moved here.”

Dana: Tolvin smiled. "You've known he's a druid."

Luke/Logan: “Not confirmed but I’m 60% certain.”

“I explained that Druidism is genetic,” Logan offered.

Dana: "Genetic. That's one way to put it."

Logan: “You have no more room to judge, Dana. We can’t help what we’re born as.”

Dana: "I have no more room to judge?"

Logan: “You’re not a hunter anymore.”

Dana: "That doesn't make vampires any less dangerous. That doesn't change what other people are."

Logan: “Druids aren’t vampires.”

Dana: "No, they can use their power for good or evil. They are unpredictable. At least with a vampire you know where they stand."

Logan: “Druids who use their power for evil are tried and often executed.”

Dana: "Are you getting all of this, Luke?"

Luke: “We read about Druid social structure. They’re self-policing.”

Dana: "'We'?"

Luke: “Logan and I. We’ve done a lot of research.”

Dana: "What else have you done to him?"

Logan: “It was his idea. After you spoke to us.”

Dana: Hmm. "Knowledge is a safe space to reside."

Logan: “Knowledge is a necessary space to reside.”

Dana: "What else have you learned while I was away?"

Luke: “A lot about spirits. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, who ends up in each. Vampires, Druids, angels, demons.”

Dana: "Heaven is - " he sighed. "Books will only tell you so much. It is not as simple as they read."

Luke: “Well, that’s all we’ve got to go on.”

Dana: "I can't give everything away."

Luke: “Nor do I want you to,” said Luke. “Some things should remain mysteries.”

Dana: "I hope you believe that months from now, too."

Luke: “I can promise you I will. I have no desire to see the man behind the curtain.”

Dana: "'The man'?"

Luke: Luke blinked at him. “Have you not seen The Wizard of Oz?”

Dana: "I don't remember."

Luke: “It’s a reference to that.”

Dana: How funny if it all relied on a single creature. Something other than Oblivion beyond.

Rather than speak, he took Luke's hand between his own.

Luke: Luke twined his fingers with Dana’s and squeezed his hand.

Dana: "How much are we going to drink?"

Logan: “The two of you can drink as much as you like,” said Logan. “I have to drive.”

Dana: "So responsible. I promise we'll be alright."

Luke/Logan: “Well, one of us has to be. Where am I going?”

“The boat rental place by the marina.”

Dana: "I'm wondering if it'll even effect me."

Luke: “If it does I imagine it won’t be very much. The body you’re in already has a high tolerance.”

Dana: "That he does. I can feel the effects of his drugs...like...weakness and a tingle."

Luke: Luke frowned. "Can you feel them because of his body's reaction or because he's doing just that many drugs?"

Dana: "Either or, but I've only seen oxy and alcohol."

Luke: "Oh good, only one of the literal worst drugs."

Dana: "Would you prefer cocaine?"

Luke: "Does he also do cocaine?"

Dana: "Not that I've found."

Luke: "That's something at least."

Dana: "It can be called a small victory. Don't you think?" he looked to Luke.

Luke/Logan: As Luke nodded Logan said, "Small is a relative term in this situation. Does he do anything mildly beneficial for his health?"

Dana: "The hard labor of his job. He lifts weights. Water sports...swimming."

Logan: Logan frowned. "He's such a contrary person. Drinking and taking pills and then turning around and lifting weights and swimming."

Dana: "Remnants of his old life, maybe."

Logan: "Is he in contact with anyone from his old life?"

Dana: "I don't know. I don't go around pretending to be him."

Logan: Logan was quiet for a few moments, thinking. "Does anyone other than Luke try to interact with you while you're using his body? There has to be a window of time between when you take him over and when you're with Luke, right?"

Dana: "At most I get neighbors. Texts from people, with no response. I can't give him more experiences during his black out. It will only diminish his sanity."

Logan: "Texts from friends or work or? I know this is turning into an interrogation, I'm sorry."

Dana: "I assume both. I know Tristan is his boss. He has a few."

Logan: “So he maintains contact with people but not so much that they’re checking on him at home regularly.”

Dana: "The average American doesn't seem all that social. Not from memory."

Luke: “As an actual American I disagree,” said Luke.

Dana: "You see all of your friends every day? Hear from those in Raleigh every day?"

Luke: “Every single friend? No. A large part of my friends? Yes. We have lively text conversations at the very least.”

Dana: "I feel you're an exception."

Luke: “Probably, but around here? Pretty average. People are more social in small towns.”

Dana: "He's from Nashville."

Luke: “My logic also applies to people from cities in the South.”

Dana: "I'm starting to think you're running on the assumption of a stereotype."

Luke: “It’s all I’ve got to go on at this point. Stereotypes and your observations.”

Dana: "We weren't social. We don't know people's circumstances. Not entirely."

Logan: “I feel like it’s a good idea to learn his,” Logan chimed in as she pulled into a parking spot.

Dana: Well, you have a bias, he thought.

Parked, Tolvin stepped out of the truck to a sudden stiffness in his legs. An ache, as though atrophied. His limited time was reaching its o'clock. He rubbed his borrowed calves and breathed in the evening air.

Luke/Logan: "You okay?" Luke asked as he followed Dana out of the car.

Logan, meanwhile, went inside to see about renting their boat.

Dana: "I'm fine. His body is beginning to reject me."

Luke: Shit. "Should we skip the boat ride and take him home? I don't want another incident." Especially not with Logan here.

Dana: "No. It's fine. This happens. I have a couple of hours at most."

Luke: "You sure?"

Dana: "There's no need to double check what I say. I have two hours. I promise."

Luke: “I’m sorry, I’m just paranoid.”

Dana: "It's... understandable."

Logan: Logan poked her head out the door. “They have no sail boats right now,” she called. “Just motor boats. Is that okay?”

Dana: "We could borrow that...what's his name... Tristan's ship?"

Luke: “Even I know we have a better chance of pulling down the sun. I can drive a motor boat.”

Dana: "What are you implying with my skills?" He arched a brow.

Luke: “Asking Tristan Seger to borrow his ship is like asking Michelangelo to loan you his paintbrush. Ain’t gonna happen. Rent the boat, Lo!”

Dana: While waiting, the man beside him was studied, smiled at. A tired smile, clear indication of the inevitable.

"We should have done this when I was alive."

Luke: Luke smiled back, reaching for Dana’s hand. “We’re doing it now. That’s what counts.”

A few moments later, Logan returned with boat keys in hand. “We’ve been assigned the Norma Jean.”

Dana: He supposed Luke had a point.

Still holding to Luke's hand, Tolvin blinked at his sister. "Is that a song?"

Logan: "That's Marilyn Monroe's real name. Norma Jean Baker. Apparently the owner named all his boats after classic Hollywood actresses."

Luke: Luke chuckled. “My dad has a boat, he taught us all how to drive it. For fishing trips.”

Dana: "I can...drive an airboat." Does that count?

Luke: It counted. “A boat is a boat. What I can’t do is sail very well.”

Dana: "No patience?"

Luke: “It’s so much work. Motor boats are easier.”

Dana: "We'll go sailing next time. Frustrations that aren't other people."

Luke: “Gonna help me sail?”

Dana: "Mhm. Something to do."

Luke: “Deal. Maybe you can use his muscle memory to help.”

Dana: "I am interested in tapping into that untouched well of knowledge."

Logan: “Can you actually do that?” asked Logan.

Dana: "With enough practice."

Logan: “That feels like a dangerous road.”

Dana: "It is."

Logan: “Perhaps it’s best not to travel it.”

Dana: "I'm already breaking the law."

Logan: “Then I would definitely advise not to break it even more. His thoughts should be his own.”

Dana: Tolvin kept his deep sigh as quiet as possible. Quietly, he laid himself down on the deck, hands as pillows and the sky his canvas to study.

Luke/Logan: The rumble of the motor was enough to muffle Dana’s sigh and, somehow, soothe Logan. Or maybe that was just the ocean and all the colors across the sky.

Luke waited until they were comfortably far out before stopping the boat.

Dana: "Do either of you want to swim?"

Luke/Logan: “I do not have on the undergarments for that,” Logan chuckled. “But the two of you can.”

Luke looked to Dana. “Want to?”

Dana: "I'll be stripping if I do."

Luke: “....Does he not have underwear on?”

Dana: "Wet underwear would raise serious questions."

Luke: “Damn, you’re right. Next time, during our sail.”

Dana: "Next time. I'll try to visit sooner, next time."

Luke: Luke smiled. “We’ll make a proper outing of it.”

Dana: "I won't know the exact date."

Luke: “That’s okay. We’ll be here.”

Dana: "You should be home more often."

Luke: “I am home.”

Dana: "The home and people in Raleigh."

Luke: “I’ll pop in when I’m ready.”

Dana: This was a subject he just wasn't going to win. He would try again later.

"Lay with me."

Luke: Luke smiled softly and laid beside Dana, reaching for his hand again.

‘I love you,’ he mouthed.

Dana: The wraith smiled tiredly. "I need a beer."

Luke: Logan silently held one out to him. She was perched on the seat, staring at the horizon.

Dana: A long pause followed, taking a slow of his beer. "There are stars where I'm from, too," he finally said.

Logan: “Are they the same stars?” she asked softly.

Dana: "I don't know. Wasn't my forte to begin with."

Logan: She was silent for another couple of moments. “I’d like to think they are. The same stars, just....reflected in some way.”

Dana: "I could - no. I'm not strong enough to bring something through, yet...but I can memorize a cluster and draw it next time."

Logan: “That would be interesting. And lovely.” Maybe it would help her and Luke feel closer to him. Or maybe just her. She’d never felt this isolated from her brother before.

Dana: It was as though he could feel her anxiety, quiet and festering. A sore he could feel on his own arm.

"Tell me something new about yourself, Jellybean."

Logan: “Something new? Umm...” She thought for a moment. “I started babysitting.”

Dana: "You'd said that. Whose children?"

Logan: “Anyone who has need. People who work at night, people with multiple jobs. I care for a six month-old baby three times a week while his mother goes to night school.”

Dana: "Do you do background checks on these people? One could be a trap."

Logan: “I do actually. I only work with families or people Father Patrick has vetted. He’s been incredibly helpful and kind to me.”

Dana: "That's what I want to hear."

Logan: She smiled. “He prays for you still. Thinks very highly of you.”

Dana: "We only met a few times."

Logan: "That was enough for him."

Dana: "What does he pray for?"

Logan: "Your rest."

Dana: "Are you going to tell him about me?"

Logan: "It's not my place."

Dana: Luke was then studied. "What about you?"

Luke: "I didn't tell anyone before. Not going to start now."

Dana: "What was told to my daughter?"

Logan: "I told her you were in an accident," said Logan. "No details, grisly or otherwise."

Dana: "With no body to give back to Australia?"

Logan: "Yes. I couldn't...tell them anything close to the truth and her mother didn't ask questions."

Dana: "She wouldn't," he sighed. "She would have expected that phone call."

Logan: "It's the worst call I've ever made. I know she didn't believe me but she was very kind about it."

Dana: "You spoke to Teagan, or just her mother?"

Logan: "Both."

Dana: "She let you?" Tolvin sat up on his elbows.

Logan: "Just for a moment, on speakerphone."

Dana: "What did you say?"

Logan: "That you loved her."

Dana: "Word for word, that's all you said?"

Logan: "I told her that I knew you and I was a friend of yours, and that no matter where you were, no matter what, you loved her with all your heart and soul and that she should never, ever forget it."

Dana: "...What did they say?"

Logan: "Her mother didn't say anything while I was on the line. Teagan said that she wouldn't forget, and if I knew whether you knew she loved you, too. I said you did."

Dana: Tolvin remained quiet, eyes to the floor, feeling an emotion lost to him for so long. Self-pity was so foreign now. A disgusting emotion like something tacky in his mouth. He just wanted it gone.

"Her mother said nothing at all?"

Logan: “Just thank you. A very shaky thank you, like she was trying to keep her composure.”

Dana: A glance to Luke. He wanted to understand his feelings during this subject.

Luke: Luke’s feelings were nothing but sadness and heartbreak. He couldn’t help but think of the night his dad had had the accident, how the thought and very real possibility of losing had all but crippled their family. Just like losing Dana must have crippled his daughter.

Dana: He couldn't tell what Luke was thinking. His face seemed...blank. Was he jealous of that life, envious, indifferent? The stars took his interest once more.

"Well, the worst...is over."

Luke: “Not for Teagan,” Luke said softly. “Poor baby.”

Dana: "My star baby will be fine. She's resilient."

Logan: She shouldn't have to be, Luke thought. She should still have her dad.

"I'm sure she is," he said softly.

Dana: The silence which followed from Tolvin was sleep-like. Oliver's chest softly rose and fell. Until, "I want to see her."

Luke: Normally Luke wouldn’t have minded the silence; he might’ve even enjoyed it.  But knowing that their time with Dana was dangerously close to coming to an end was making him anxious.

Dana speaking again was as much a relief as a surprise. “In Oliver’s body?”

Dana: Another glance to Luke. He placed the human's hand on his chest and squeezed.

"Preferably my own, but I don't know when that will be...if fucking ever."

Luke: Luke laced their fingers. “Optimism, remember? You’ll get your body back. But won’t that be...a lot for her?”

Dana: "Which would be easier, meeting Oliver and telling her the truth, or seeing her father with ectoplasm for guts?"

Luke: “Both those options would require her finding out about the supernatural. And neither one of them would be easy. It’s hard for adults to process, much less a kid.”

Dana: "Then I'll just see her and say Oliver was a friend, and just...check on my daughter."

Luke: Luke nodded and offered Dana a soft smile. Not telling Teagan the truth was the only option that wouldn’t severely mess her up.

“That sounds good.”

Dana: "I want you to both come with me."

Luke: “To Australia to see Teagan?”

Dana: "Yeah. That."

Logan: “Do you think her mother would allow anyone to visit?” Logan asked. “I’d love to see her.”

Dana: "I don't know who she is anymore. She's not what keeps me here."

Logan: “Couldn’t hurt to ask her. She knows I won’t say anything to Teagan, I’m hoping she won’t refuse.”

Dana: "She knows?"

Logan: "That I was your partner? I assume so. The church spoke to her after what happened."

Dana: "You said you told her I was in an accident..."

Logan: "I did. I spoke to her before they did and I told them that I thought it was a less horrible way of telling her. They had no choice but to agree."

Dana: "Who knows what they said to her," he sighed.

Logan: "I like to think I managed to guilt them into being courteous and kind."

Dana: "Guilt only goes so far, and you're no longer a hunter."

Tolvin suddenly sat up. "I didn't get you kicked out, Logan. When I had made my call, it was to send you back home and reassign you."

Logan: Logan turned back to the horizon. She bore Dana no ill will for the call he'd made; she never could've continued hunting without him by her side.

"They chose to blackball me instead. Apparently I'd committed a sin too severe for them to forgive."

Dana: "They would have given you something else. They should have."

Logan: "Maybe, but they didn't. They made their choice, and they made sure to rub as much salt in the wound as they could without being overtly cruel."

Dana: "What salt?"

Logan: She shook her head. "Forget it, never mind. Point is, they chose to fire me independently of anything or anyone else."

Dana: "You want me to forget it?"

Logan: “It’s not worth thinking about. What’s done is done.”

Dana: "I've been saying that about me."

Logan: “You are worth thinking about. My short-lived career as a hunter is not.”

Dana: "It wasn't short lived, and you were good at it. Your only flaw had been getting too close."

Logan: “If that was a flaw, it’s a flaw I value. I’d do it all over again.”

Dana: "We were here to do a job. We were sloppy. We should have done what we needed and left. Instead, I tried to use the man next to me, and I used that as an excuse to linger, and I let my emotions get in the way. We stood too close to fire and it took me. You're still here licking the flames."

Logan: “The only thing I regret is that they took you, that I wasn’t there with you to help you and protect you. Luke was more than an excuse, Dana. You know that. I’m still here because for better or worse, this place has become my home. Luke is here because his soul needs to be where he’s comforted and loved. And you’re here because we’re tethering you here. The world is full of should haves.”

Dana: His sister was given a hard stare if ever there was one. There was nothing he could do to change her mind. Nothing without damaging their fragile relationship. There were enough dents and scrapes without adding insult to injury.

"I'm going to take this body for a swim."

Luke/Logan: Logan wasn't naive; she knew Dana would drag her back to Australia if he could and had a mind to. But this was the way things were.

"What about the underwear thing?" Luke asked softly, finally speaking up.

Dana: "Close your eyes until I'm in." Off came the jacket. He wanted to look at Luke. He wanted to touch him and understand his mind. He felt so far away.

Luke/Logan: Both Logan and Luke closed their eyes, though Luke didn't do it quite as quickly. He reached for Dana's arm first, needing to touch some part of him. Today suddenly felt so very heavy.

Dana: With eyes closed, Luke would feel fingertips caressed over his chin and cheek.

Luke: Dana was given a soft smile in return. He adored Logan, but the next time Dana visited them, Luke wanted plenty of alone time with his love.

Dana: Both would hear a splash moments later. The clothes had been neatly piled on Luke's lap for safe keeping.

Luke: “How’s the water?” Luke called, holding tightly to Dana’s clothes.

Dana: Another splash and a series of sloshing. The shake of his head was muscle memory; Oliver's hair was much too short.

"Join me."

Luke: “All right.” What the hell.

After thinking for a moment to make sure he wasn’t wearing light colored boxer briefs, he stripped down and handed the bundle of clothing to Logan.

Dana: The clothes were playing musical lap, he thought with a smile.

"No drinking, no swimming, too?" he called to his sister.

Luke/Logan: “I’ll have one of the Smirnoff Ices. Not swimming though.”

Luke slipped silently into the water and swam over to Dana.

Dana: There seemed to be no other boats in sight. For now, they were safe to do as they pleased. His limited time was cast to the side. An arm wrapped around his waist. His pale skin was warmer than Oliver. He could feel that very subtle fuzz on his stomach and it comforted him.

Luke: Luke snuggled against Dana as much as he could while keeping himself afloat. The comfort was entirely mutual and he was more than a little needy for it. He didn’t want to think about how little time they had left, he just wanted to stay here with Dana for hours and hours.

Dana: "How ya feelin'?" he whispered into Luke's ear.

Luke: “I’m okay,” he whispered back, nuzzling against Dana’s shoulder. “How much longer?”

Dana: "Not much longer. Let's just enjoy this, okay?"

Luke: Luke nodded. “Okay. Just tell me when we have to go.”

Dana: "I will. Tilt your heat back." Their version of a bath without Luke having to step foot in Oliver's trailer.

Luke: He did as he was told and made himself as comfortable as he could. “This is nice,” he murmured, letting his eyes close.

Dana: He began to comb back Luke's blond hair, soaking it in the salt water. "This is. We should have done this."

Luke: Luke took a slow, deep breath, further relaxing against Dana. "We should have. We should do it more now."

Dana: "Ya really alright?"

Luke: "I'm fine." He turned to kiss Dana's cheek.

Dana: Considering their life, he doubted "fine" meant anything other than surviving.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

Luke: Sometimes surviving was the best a person could do. But in this case, Luke liked to think he was doing a tiny bit better than surviving.

He cast a brief glance to Logan and, after making sure her attention was elsewhere, turned to kiss Dana.

Dana: Oliver's lips were warm and soft. A surprise for Tolvin his first night observing his host. His kiss was gentle, mindful that this was only a temporary body. As useful as it was, he didn't want Luke becoming accustomed to this man.

Still, he couldn't help himself, playfulness seeping through as he nipped Luke's bottom lip.

Luke: It was a surprise for Luke as well. Looking at Oliver, a person wouldn't expect any part of him to be warm or comforting and soft. And maybe it was just the fact that Dana was occupying him that made it so.

He squeaked softly in surprise. Oh yeah, it was definitely just Dana.

Dana: The wraith was grinning. "What a manly noise." He wanted to hear it again. Luke's head was nuzzled and turned with his nose, giving access to nibble and lick below his ear.

Luke: Luke laughed softly and squirmed a bit beneath Dana's ministrations. That was a particularly sensitive and ticklish spot and he was doing a terrible job of hiding it.

Dana: Tolvin began to growl against his skin, biting just hard enough in an attempt to elicit more from his devoted companion.

Luke: Oh, Dana definitely got more. He got a half-strangled/half-bitten off moan and a quick and furious blush.

"Dana," he whisper yelled, though he was smiling. "Logan's right there!"

Dana: "Right, right. You're right. Guess we should be gettin' back," he sighed. "He needs t'be dry 'fore he's back."

Luke: “Yeah, we should.” He kisses Dana’s cheek. Then kissed it again.

Dana: A third attempt would have Luke's lips against his own. "Don't get me riled up," he warned. "We gotta get out."

Luke: Luke hummed softly. “All right. Let’s get out.” He reluctantly untangled himself and swam back toward the boat.

Dana: Along the way, his foot was given a quick tickle. He was as reluctant to get out, but time was limited.

"Eyes closed," he called to Logan.

Luke/Logan: He smiled over his shoulder as Logan covered her eyes with her free hand.

Dana: The shirt was basic. He knew Oliver had multiple, so he felt no concern in using the top as a towel.

"Almost." He finished dressing himself, though still shirtless, using the collar to scratch between his eyes.

"These are always tired and...pressure."

Luke: Luke hoisted himself back into the boat, using his shirt to dry his face and towel off the excess water from his hair. “Probably because of the migraines. We should look into some remedies for him.”

Dana: "I can't remember my last migraine when I was - back then. I just remember headaches."

Luke: “I’m sure Oliver wishes he just got headaches too. I’ll ask Callum if he has any natural remedies.”

Dana: "How are you gonna give him relief?"

He brushed his finger over Logan's hand. Safe to open your eyes.

Luke: “I’ll find a way. We might have to treat him while you’re borrowing him.”

Dana: "What do you think, Logan?"

Logan: “I agree with Luke. There has to be some way to help him that he agrees with.”

Dana: "When he's outta commission, then."

He looked Logan over. Was she alright?

"We need to go. I'm getting weak."

Luke/Logan: Logan just gave him a small smile.

“Okay. Hang on tight.” Luke got them back to the docks as quickly as possible. He was going to take no chances.

Dana: Tolvin offered her his hand, his gaze steady. She was too quiet. He wanted to know her thoughts.

Logan: Logan took it, squeezing and trying not to focus on the fact that these hands felt so very different from Dana’s.

She couldn’t have told him her thoughts, for she was still processing them herself. This all felt so foreign.

Dana: "Logan," he said softly. He was willing to sit here for a moment if it meant getting his pending point across. "I have never stopped loving you since I died."

Logan: She squeezed his hand again. "Nor I you."

Dana: "You know I will always love you."

Logan: "I know."

Dana: "You do?"

Logan: Logan nodded.

Dana: "I feel your worry."

Logan: "I'm sure you can."

Dana: "I you want me to go, just say so, jellybean."

Logan: "I don't want you to go, Dana. I want you here, with me and with Luke. We've missed you so much."

Dana: "I'm just... Think of me as away on business. That's all." Oliver's body was heaved to her side. "I still exist. You just gotta be patient with me."

Logan: Logan nodded, smiling softly. "Okay, big brother. I'll be patient."

Dana: "What are you going to do until next time?"

Logan: "Work. Help Luke research migraine treatments."

Dana: "That's all?"

Logan: “And choir practice somewhere in there.”

Dana: He nodded. "Give me your phone. I'll give you the number to my phone. Using his was too dangerous."

Logan: Logan pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her contact list so Dana could put in his number.

Dana: The number given, Logan's cheek was given a kiss. "You're coming with us to his house?"

Logan: She smiled. "I'm driving, remember?"

Dana: "You could drop me off at the trailer park gate."

Logan: “Are you sure?”

Dana: "If that's what you need."

Logan: “I can drop you at your door. His door.”

Dana: "...Alright." Back to go Luke as he gestured directions. "Going home after this?"

Luke: "To the bar probably. Promised my dad a beer."

Dana: “So, this is where we go our separate ways, then.”

Luke: "Well, semi-separate. Logan needs to eat a proper meal."

Dana: “What does that mean? Have you not been eating?”

Luke/Logan: "I've been eating just fine."

"Ramen is not a balanced meal."

"It's all I can make!"

Dana: “You bake for a living, sis.”

Logan: "Might I remind you about my many struggles with the stove top? I can only cook in the oven. I also make a lot of casseroles. They're...edible."

Dana: “It’s a stove, not a wild boar. Just don’t turn it up so high.”

Logan: "That stove was a wild boar in a former life."

Dana: “Gas is easier than electric. Maybe that’s your issue,”

Logan: "Maybe. It would be useful to be able to see the heat, so to speak." She was quiet for a few moments as she thought. "Actually, you know what? That really might be the issue. Baking comes easy because I know what temperature the oven should be at. There's an actual measurement."

Dana: “So, I’m still of use in this realm,” her brother smiled.

Luke: "You're of use in all realms," said Luke.

Dana: "I doubt I'm of use in all. There are too many."

Luke/Logan: “True, but you’re amazing so I think you’re useful in all of them. Right, Lo?”

“Right.”

Dana: "You're both ridiculously optimistic. Turn left after the stop sign."

Logan: “We try,” said Logan, taking one of her infamous rolling stops before turning left.

Dana: "The one with the pick-up, there." The one with a woman in dark green tattered shirt and whitewashed jeans sitting on the cheap bent stairs.

Luke/Logan: Before Logan could ask about the woman Luke was cursing under his breath. “Dammit. Is that a stranger or one of his friends?”

Dana: "I think a friend. Just keep driving." He began to duck down.

Logan: “You still want me to drop you at the door?” asked Logan. “What if the friend asks questions?”

Dana: "I said keep driving, Logan."

Logan: “Okay.” Logan gave Luke an uncertain look but kept driving.

Dana: "Just don't stop. Drop me off at the end of the road and I'll go in from the back."

Logan: She nodded and did as he indicated, not stopping or slowing down or doing anything that would draw attention. At most someone would recognize her as their babysitter.

“I babysit children here. It won’t be weird if someone sees me.”

Dana: "Here? These people? Which ones? Have you seen Oliver before?"

Logan: “Never. It’s two families on the other side of the park. I’ve only been here once, I usually keep the kids after Sunday school since their parents work.”

Dana: "So you've never been here?"

Logan: “Only once.”

Dana: "You took them from church to here?"

Logan: “That time, yes.”

Dana: He could feel himself circling back to what he once was. Not necessary or productive.

Oliver's head peeked out towards the trailer.

"I think we're far enough."

Logan: Logan nodded and pulled over. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

Dana: "I have his keys. I'll be fine. I was a hunter, remember?"

Logan: She gave him a small smile. "I don't mean in a hunting way."

Dana: "I'll be back before you know it, Jellybean. You have a mission now. It'll give you something to do."

Logan: "Something outside of work at least." She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Please be careful, Dana."

Dana: "What more can be done to me here, huh?" He kissed her cheek and opened the door. "No more rolling stops." He shut the door behind himself.

Logan: "I'll try." She returned the kiss. "I love you, Dana."

Dana: "Love you," he called to them both, but his voice was much too soft to carry. Quiet, he disappeared between the trees.