#helen haven

[puzzlenation]

Women of Letters (and Squares and Boxes and Clues and...)

Puzzles bring joy to so many of us. They’re an escape, a challenge, a satisfying little test of our wits, our dedication, our creativity, and our flexibility of thought. In uncertain times, in times of trouble, people often turn to puzzles. Puzzles were a refuge for many during lockdown when COVID hung over our heads. And now, when so much seems uncertain, if not downright unstable, people will…

[thoughtlessarse]

Nestled in the bucolic Blue Ridge mountains of western North Carolina and far from any coast, Asheville was touted as a climate “haven” from extreme weather. Now the historic city has been devastated and cut off by Hurricane Helene’s catastrophic floodwaters, in a stunning display of the climate crisis’s unlimited reach in the United States. Helene, which crunched into the western Florida coast as a category 4 hurricane on Thursday, brought darkly familiar carnage to a stretch of that state that has experienced three such storms in the past 13 months, flattening coastal homes and tossing boats inland. But as the storm, with winds peaking at 140mph (225 km/h), carved a path northwards, it mangled places in multiple states that have never seen such impacts, obliterating small towns, hurling trees on to homes, unmooring houses that then floated in the floodwater, plunging millions of people into power blackouts and turning major roads into rivers. In all, about 100 people have died across five states, with nearly a third of these deaths occurring in the county containing Asheville, a city of historic architecture where new residents have flocked amid boasts by real estate agents of a place that offers a reprieve from “crazy” extreme weather. Now, major highways into Asheville have been severed by flooding from surging rainfall, its mud-caked and debris-strewn center turned into a place where access to cellphone reception, gasoline and food is scarce. The water supply, as well as the roads, is expected to be affected for weeks. It is, according to Roy Cooper, North Carolina’s governor, an “unprecedented tragedy”. “Everyone thought this was a safe place, somewhere you could move with your kids for the long term, so this is just unimaginable, it’s catastrophic,” said Anna Jane Joyner, a climate campaigner who grew up in the area and whose family still lives in Black Mountain, near Asheville. Several of her friends narrowly avoided being swept away by the floodwater.

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"Phew, can you imagine what it'd be like if climate change were real."

I wonder if this will have changed any climate deniers' minds. It should be that hard as there's a big empty space where the their brain should be.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Yale Climate Connections:

Asheville, North Carolina, seemed like a good place to escape the worst of a warming world. The city’s appealing four-season climate includes summers with a typical daily high around 84°F – unusually low for the Southeast U.S. – and winters that aren’t too frigid. There’s typically plenty of moisture throughout the year, but with a mountain rain shadow that keeps Asheville a bit less wet than most of its neighbors. And the city takes climate seriously: findings from a climate resilience assessment have already been incorporated into Asheville’s comprehensive planning document.

In a 2018 Rolling Stone article, Jeff Goodell profiled one climate refugee who had considered the Tampa area before settling on Asheville. “No place is without risk, but in Asheville, the risks seem manageable,” Jeff Kaplan told Goodell. A 2021 Blue Ridge Public Radio segment portrayed Asheville as a climate “winner.”

Then came Hurricane Helene. After striking the Florida Panhandle at Category 4 strength, the storm took a quirky left hook across the southern Appalachians, pushing mammoth amounts of moisture upslope. Making matters worse, a predecessor rain event ahead of Helene had dumped six to 12 inches of rain across the region a day before the storm itself arrived.

The result was one of the most devastating, prolonged, and deadly hurricane-related U.S. flood disasters since the cataclysm of Katrina in 2005. Across the southern Appalachians – including Asheville – Helene destroyed roads, knocked out power and water lines, crippled communications, and took dozens of lives.

Among the things that make Helene different is that it arrived at a time when hurricane behavior is being measurably amped up in multiple ways by human-caused climate change. And it hammered a place now widely viewed to be at least somewhat insulated from the worst impacts of that changing climate.

Many folks seeking out climate-change-protected places in the U.S. have leaned toward small, progressive cities in relatively cool parts of the Midwest and East. Spikes in heat, drought, and wildfire that have plagued the West seem more likely to be tempered in these apparent havens. And in many of them, climate adaptation efforts are already underway.

As it turns out, most of the country east of the Rockies is getting wetter. Especially over the central and southern Appalachians, some locations saw a 5 to 10% rise in official annual precipitation when their 1980-2011 climate averages were replaced by the 1991-2020 figures. In Asheville, a typical year’s precipitation jumped from 37.32 to 40.61 inches.

Along with Asheville, a couple of other often-cited climate-change oases in the U.S. Midwest and East have experienced landmark rains and floods in recent years.

Duluth, Minnesota, referred to in a 2023 New York Times writeup as “climate-proof Duluth” (and the subject of a study on how climate migration might change the city), experienced the worst flooding in its history on June 19-20, 2012, when the city was swamped by a record 7.24 inches of rain in 24 hours. Colossal rains were even more widespread across northeast Minnesota on June 18, 2024, when a number of stations reported 5-7.5 inches of rain – a daily total with an expected recurrence interval of 500 to 1,000 years, according to the National Weather Service.

Vermont has long stood out as a potential U.S. climate refuge, with its environmentally friendly reputation, ample greenery and mountains, and normally mild summers. But when former Hurricane Irene ripped across the state as a tropical storm in August 2011, it brought massive rainfall that triggered one of Vermont’s worst disasters on record, rivaling or exceeding the notorious floods of 1927 in some areas. Then in 2023, weeks of early-summer wildfire smoke filtering south from Canada were followed by the Great Vermont Flood of July 10-11. Triggered by up to 9.61 inches of rain, the floods caused more than $2.2 billion in damage across northern New England and triggered the region’s first-ever flash flood emergency.

[skeletonpandas]

Sitting here, sipping my coffee...thinking, as I often do, about the future.

I live in Michigan. When climate change was something "experts could be lying about" I started noticing the changes. I spend alot of time in nature. With animals and native plants. I am an amateur forager, science nerd. In photography, my favorite subject was mushrooms. I noticed...that my winters began getting snow later, first. I live in the north-north. Where it is traditionally colder for longer and my warm seasons are shorter (zone 3 and 4). Winter wouldn't decide to be here til late December. When it used to come October 31st. Which was it's own eerie kind of spooky. Subtle. Slow rearranging of your known reality.

Then, the tornados that I don't usually see in my state hit in early december. Not even two hours away from my house.

My mighty lake, which shields me from the worst storms from Canada and absorbs any that make it this far inland...suddenly feels like a smaller shield. Lake affect doesn't just drop boat loads of snow, that's something alot of people don't know. Sometimes, the difference in temperature creates a dip that attracts storms coming towards it. Like a vacuum. I've watched it happen hundreds of times.

A storm predicted to hit my town will pass right over it and dissipate over the lake. Then my autumns began to come later as well, as if playing catch up with the winter. Wait for meeeee.... My summers began creeping into the fall, getting longer. I suddenly had more of a fighting change with my vegetable garden which was always a challenge with the work grind life. All of this felt very welcome. The cold weather has always had an element of challenge to it. Me and my boots climbing over three and four feet snow banks, living on a hill, trying to dig us out and not slide all the way to the bottom of my driveway. Trying often in vain to start seedlings early inside the house in crazy looking arrangements, with pots and grow lights everywhere, really needing a dehumidifier to fight pests and mold because I live near a swamp.

Then my springs seemingly disappeared. I would go winter to summer. In a kind of wild whiplash. There was no gradual change. It either was or was not. Michigan's notoriously unpredictable winter...became glaringly predictable for a couple years.

Then, these last two winters. I saw almost no snow. My daffodils came up in february. The bears came out, in a kind of confusion, in February. My trees didn't bloom because they woke up too early. It's like all of nature knew something had changed but not everyone was equipped to deal with it. My bug populations BOOMED. Suddenly I had spiders everywhere. I saw less mosquitoes. And less rain, living somewhere where I always have plenty of water.

My swamp wasn't wet. The questionable became undeniable.

I bought portable emergency solar panels. I got an electric bike. I tried to set up a sustainable food situation, stuff that will grow in this kind of bizarro weather without my attention. To some measure of success but also equal failure. Because try as I might, financially to survive the grind tries to keep me in it. Pulling on my sleeves, beckoning me away from my life.

a HURRICANE just hit Tennessee. That's a hop skip and a jump from me.

What the hell is this.

This winter is supposed to be what all our winters look like, going forward. Muddy, cold, and wet.

[radioactive-juice]

I think they should give Micheal and Helen distortion smartphones

[demisexualnathanvuornos]

A Very Merry Daughter of the Bride (2008) co-written & directed by Leslie Hope

[misscrazyfangirl321]

helen and jordan: careful!

Everything hurt. She ached down to her bones, head spinning, but above it all was the crushing disappointment. Once again, she’d thought that someone would love and accept her for who she was. And once again, she was left alone and suffering, with just one more reminder that she wasn’t-would never be-good enough.

Well, she wasn’t completely alone. The woman stayed. What did Benjamin call her? Jessica? He’d called her a villain, and maybe she was, but she was pregnant, and Jordan just couldn’t justify using her powers like that. Hurting a soldier was one thing; hurting an innocent child was another. And when the only one Jordan trusted betrayed her, Jessica chose to stay. 

“You’re okay,” Jessica said, not soft and assuring but matter-of-fact. “Help is almost here.”

Who could she have called? Emma? The redhead didn’t really strike Jordan as the type to help an enemy. Maybe her husband? Would that little team even be able to help Jordan? Or-

“Where is she?”

It took several long seconds to place the voice: British accent, clipped and commanding. After all these months, it would seem Helen Magnus got her wish after all; Jordan didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid. If she ended up in a cage, or dissected on a table somewhere…. All her life, she’d just wanted to be normal. Free. Loved. And now here she was, bleeding out on the pavement, her only allies a pregnant woman who once tried to kill her and a mysterious stranger rumored to lock up the unusual things of the world. 

But what was the alternative? She couldn’t exactly turn away help at the moment. 

“Over here.” 

Footsteps drew close to Jordan, who forced her eyes open. Tears and pain blurred her vision, but she could make out Dr. Magnus’ figure, kneeling softly beside Jordan and reaching for her. “You’ll be alright,” she promised. “Just breathe.” 

“Careful!” Jordan gasped out, drawing back instinctively from the hands, even as her whole body screamed in protest. “You can’t-it’s not-”

“I know.” She caught Jordan by the arms, and it was thick leather, not flesh, resting against Jordan’s skin. Gloves; smart woman. “Just let me help you. Hm?” 

Whatever she wanted with Jordan, whatever her plans, she might have been the only hope Jordan had left.

[similistic]

Books of 2022

Favorites:

- Owen by Kevin Henkes It’s a children’s book about a mouse who is very attached to his security blanket. XD

- Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler A very eerie post-apocalytpic/dystopian science fiction novel. The story is set between 2024 and 2027, so reading it in 2022, as a resident of California, was a bit chilling and very thought-provoking.

- Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb This is book 2 of the Rain Wild Chronicles series, and to be honest, I don’t highly recommend the other three books in the series, and I’m not sure I would have “favorited” it as a stand alone. But it’s the most dragon-centric book of the series and I really enjoyed her treatment of dragons and their lore.

5-Star Ratings in 2022:

- The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles Young man coming of age, vintage Americana.

- Bravely by Maggie Stiefvater Basically a look at what happens to Merida from Disney/Pixar’s “Brave” after the events of the movie.

- The Partner Track by Helen Wan Young, female, Asian lawyer, trying to make partner at her firm. Dealing with racism and sexism. Slight “Devil Wears Prada” vibes.

- The Hating Game by Sally Thorne Fun romance novel. Enemy to lovers trope.

- 99 Percent Mine by Sally Thorne Fun romance novel.

- Mad Ship by Robin Hobb Book 2 of the Liveship Traders trilogy.

[potatoesandsunshine]

this run of inquisition is great bc instead of checking out and putting a podcast on i just spend the whole time thinking about how messed up max is. the guy trying to jump up the cliff right now has so many things wrong with him. hope getting up this cliff helps.

[oooocleo]

theres a couple of books missing from here bc they didnt tile nicely but kicks my legs... reading log so far from the first half of 2024 🫡

i wanted to share my favourites out of the above as well:

carmilla by sheridan le fanu (the og vampire novella, somewhat archaic writing style but Way more lesbian than i was expecting, v evocative of those insane girlhood friendships one has growing up afab)

the goblin emperor by katherine addison (maia… the ultimate good boy truly trying his best to be a good ruler - i felt alternatively so bad for him and rly proud of the sentiment of kindness he embodied + gorg descriptions of the goblin/elf cultures)

empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo (novella; gorgeous poetic writing, like catching glimpses of an epic fantasy story but being Allowed to fill in a ton of it yourself.. rly tactile…also WAMEN and a sprinkle of lesbianism 🤌)

white is for witching by helen oyeyemi (magical realism prose which powerfully serves the unreliable narrator/psychological issues the protagonist has/seems to have + haunted house horror where the house is also in the characters after they leave.. i rly want to reread it already)

the dispossessed by ursula k le guin (anarchist socialist anticapitalist anti-prison anti-police theory beamed straight into my brain. made me want to move to the moon. actually nuanced in its depiction of issues in supposedly utopian societies)

annihilation by jeff vandermeer (delicious bio-horror.. weirdness abounds… really vivid pov/protagonist in the autistic broad shouldered biologist, imo very well crafted mystery but dont go in expecting to have all the answers at the end, thats Not The Point tm)

blood over bright haven by ML wang (sciona.... ur THE power hungry maniac academic ive been waiting for... this is a visceral fantasy that quite skillfully deals w gender & ethnic oppression w.o cheapening those issues for the (lowkey) romance's sake, a common gripe for me)

bride by ali hazelwood (just a freaking good time if uve been traumatized by abusive male leads ur supposed to like.. werewolf x vampire contemporary romance)

[mrsoftthoughts]

We need to discuss all the implications of being a pregnant mortal in the Riordanverse when the baby you're carryingn is a greecoroman demigod

Because you can't look me dead in the eyes and tell me that that thing would be a normal pregnancy down any standards

I mean, there's a good chance that this it's only Rick forgetting about the math once again, but Sally's pregnancy should haven been either 3 months or between 11-14 months, and i feel like baby Percy would have wanted to stay there the longest possible because idk, just being comfy in his momma belly full of liquid

And i don't even want to think about being esperanza Valdez with a fetus capable of fuckin combust at any moment, beryl grace getting electroshocks everytime that Thalia kicked or anything that could happen with Maria di Angelo and her Two kids of the lord of the death

And Also exist the possibility that the mortal body isn't taking well having a interspecies fetus that maybe has a chance to act like ambrosia or nectar making that you feel like if you were burning from your insides because way too much Divinity too handle

And no, i'm not done yet, there's more.

A Demigod can be born troug a C-section without the Doctors seeing something that a mortal definitely shouldn't? Who knows how a Demigod looks when they still in the uterus, there's even a chance of them having a minor scale "real" form as their parents, a now the doctor is fuckin blind

And how many times some of the mortal parents being really freaked out about this and knowing that they can't keep the baby have tried to get an abortion, in the best case it would work and now everything is ok... But you can even abort a Demigod?? At least through mortal methods, because i feel like there's a pretty big chance that this doesn't work

There's also a chance of this doesn't looking like a pregnancy at all, being honest this born from my headcanon of the Apollo kids gestations being unnoticeable ( since that apollos reaction towards sally pregnancy was really weird) and that i already mentioned in a previous post, but what if there's also the chance of you being completely oblivious towards this and then BOOM !! Baby

And then we have that the possibilities are low but never zero for a "pregnancy" like the ones of Castor and Pollux and Helen and Clytemnestra happening nowadays ( If your don't know of what I'm talking about, I just have one thing to say: Eggs)

And ofc... That we shouldn't look away for the possibilities of Mpreg with mortals being the ones carrying the baby, the limit with weird things here is inexistent to this point ( I'm not talking about Darren Knowles here btw, unless that you pull out the trans!Darren headcanon it's obvious that the one that give birth to kayla was Apollo, not for being a god, but because this man is such a bottom)

As a summary: Don't get pregnant from a god. I think there's a chance of it being terrifying.

[babsharrison]

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter one)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

Word Count | 2.4k

A/N | Hey luvs! New chapter of my John Wick fic is up, and I’m super happy with all the interactions so far! Hope you all enjoy! (And also!! I want to let you guys know that this fic is kinda alternative, so Helen doesn't exist and John is still in his dark life with no romance 😭 poor baby) Prologue here!

The next day, John woke up with the softness of the bookstore still echoing in his mind. The aroma of tea and the warmth of the woman’s smile remained etched in his memory. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to feel something so light, so comforting.

As he moved, the pain in his injured shoulder reminded him of his reality. He slowly sat up, trying to ignore the stiffness spreading through his body. The past followed him, as always, but there was something inside him that longed to return to the bookstore.

With a soft sigh, John decided he needed that peace, even if it was temporary. He put on his black suit, adjusting his tie with precision, and stepped outside, feeling the morning breeze brush against his face and tousle his hair. The path seemed shorter this time, his anxiety replaced by cautious anticipation.

As he entered the bookstore, the bell chimed softly, and the familiar environment enveloped him, providing immediate comfort. He began searching for the woman who had welcomed him, his heart skipping a beat upon seeing her behind the counter, her head bent over a book. The sight of her so immersed in reading almost made him smile. Her hair, neatly tied up, contrasted with the beautiful mess from the night before, as if each style told a different part of her story.

When she noticed his presence, she looked up, and a smile illuminated her face. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, her voice like a ray of sunshine. “Did you find something interesting this time?”

John hesitated for a moment. There was something about the way she looked at him—so open, so inviting—that made him uncomfortable. Why does she seem so at ease? he wondered, almost absentmindedly. He observed her every movement. He had learned over the years that no one was completely innocent. Every smile could hide a motive, and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

“I’m still deciding,” he murmured, keeping his voice steady, not revealing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. Her expression, however, didn’t change. Her smile remained calm, showing no signs of insincerity. Either she’s a great actress, or… maybe she really is just that genuine?

She nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer. “That’s alright! I’m just happy to have you back. I have some new books that you might like,” she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

John glanced away briefly, as if surveying the bookstore, but in reality, he was considering all possible exits, thinking about how each space could become an advantage point or a trap if he needed to act. That’s how he operated—always calculating.

He watched her move confidently around the space, picking up books and explaining their stories. John listened attentively, appreciating how animated she became, as if the words flowing from her mouth had a life of their own. However, while he listened, he continued evaluating. She seems sincere… but it’s hard to trust first impressions. His mind was always on alert.

“Have you read this one?” she asked, holding up a blue-covered book, her eyes eager for his response.

“No,” John admitted, “but I’m... willing to hear about it.”

The woman began talking about the plot, but he noticed she was also paying attention to him, as if trying to decipher what lay behind his calm expression. He struggled to maintain an air of mystery, not wanting her to know the weight he carried. She wants to understand more… but I can’t let her in.

“You have good taste, even if you don’t say much,” she observed with a playful smile.

John merely gave a slight smile in return, one that he didn’t even notice, a gesture that seemed sufficient for her. He liked how she didn’t press him, respecting his space. “Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words,” he commented, feeling it was an appropriate yet evasive response. It’s safer this way… he thought.

She nodded as if she understood. “I agree. Still, it’s nice to hear some stories from time to time.”

They were engrossed in conversation when suddenly, the sound of John’s phone ringing cut through the light atmosphere of the bookstore. He glanced at the screen and saw the name of a contact he didn’t want to see. A look of concern crossed his face as he hesitated to answer.

“Sorry,” he murmured to her, bringing the phone closer. “I need to take this.”

She nodded, and he stepped back a bit, the voice on the other end serving as a brutal reminder of his reality. “John, we need you. It’s urgent.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. “Understood,” he replied, his voice low and firm. “I’ll be there soon.”

Hanging up, he turned to the woman, frustration and sadness swirling in his eyes like a storm brewing on the horizon. “I have to go,” he said, his tone clipped and cold, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them. The change in his demeanor was evident, casting a shadow over the warmth of their earlier conversation.

She looked at him, understanding reflected in her gaze. “It’s okay. I hope everything is alright,” she replied, her smile unwavering. “Come back when you can.”

He nodded silently, the promise lingering in the air. And with one last look around, he left the bookstore, carrying with him the memory of the peace he had found there, even knowing that it didn’t belong in his life.

As he stepped outside, he pulled the collar of his suit tighter, trying to conceal the pain still throbbing in his shoulder. Walking through the city streets, the feeling that he didn’t belong in that kind of peace grew within him. It was as if the tranquility of the bookstore was a distant world, one he had no right to access.

Quickening his pace, John blended into the crowd, once again wrapped in the shadows of his life. Work was calling him, and as he glanced back, he knew that temporary peace would be hard to find again.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Mia watched the mysterious man walk out the door, his presence still lingering in the air. It was impossible not to notice the melancholy he carried, like a visible weight on his shoulders. She wished he was okay; maybe he had faced a tough day. But unlike the other customers who often appeared with a similar sadness, his pain seemed deeper, as if shaped by difficult experiences.

She tried to shake off those thoughts, knowing that losing herself in them would lead nowhere. Just then, her coworker, Tom, emerged from the back of the bookstore, looking groggy. Tom, a man with dark skin and adorable curls, always brought a lightness to the atmosphere, even when he was sleepy. His playful nature was a balm for heavier days, and he was Mia’s only friend, someone who treated her like a younger sister.

“Finally, Tom! I thought you passed out back there,” she remarked, a smile playing on her lips as she moved to the counter to put away the books she had been showing the man.

Tom rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the sleepiness. “Sorry, I had to sort through a bunch of boxes that arrived this morning. What did I miss? Any interesting customers?”

Mia glanced out the window, watching the street where the man had disappeared. “Yeah, there was... A customer in a suit… and he was really quiet. He seemed a bit… distant, you know?”

“Another one of those businessmen, huh?” Tom said, putting his hands in his pockets as he approached the counter. “You know how those types are. Sometimes, they just need a little space.”

“Yeah…” Mia replied, rearranging one of the books on the counter. “He didn’t say much, but he seemed… I don’t know, just… different.”

Before she could continue her thought, the sound of the door opening brought a new customer into the store. Mia straightened her shoulders, returning to her work with her usual smile. “Good afternoon! Can I help you with anything?”

As the new visitor browsed the shelves, Tom leaned closer, hands still in his pockets, watching Mia sideways. “You seem a bit lost in thought today. Everything okay?” He always noticed when something was bothering her, as if he had a special intuition for it.

She offered a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I don’t know, I’m tired.”

Tom studied her for a moment, then gave the counter a light tap. “Alright. But don’t worry. We always end up meeting all kinds of people here. Maybe he was just having a tough day.”

Mia nodded, turning her attention back to the customer in the store. Maybe that was all it was. Just another ordinary day, another passing customer. The thought made her smile. After all, the bookstore was filled with stories—on the shelves and among the people who came and went every day.

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” Mia murmured, and just as she spoke, the doorbell chimed again, signaling yet another arrival.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

John couldn't help but feel a pang of pride for having come out of this mission without major injuries. Each day seemed like a new opportunity to improve, to become more lethal, more efficient. Even after so many years in this life, he knew there was still room for growth. After all, that was what he did best, right? Fight, stab, shoot. Kill. It was what he knew, what defined his existence.

With a tired grunt, the tall man sank into the sofa, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders. His large house was enveloped in a deafening silence, a constant echo of his loneliness. The empty walls seemed to close in around him, reminding him that, no matter how unbeatable he was on the battlefield, here, within these four walls, he was just a solitary man marked by his choices.

The life he had built, on a foundation of blood and violence, now felt like an invisible prison. But this was the only life he knew how to live.

John ran his hands through his hair, massaging his sore neck as he settled into the sofa. The stillness of the house wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, with nothing to distract him from the thoughts that always came flooding back. There was no music, television, or any sound to break the emptiness, only the echo of his own footsteps resonating in his mind.

He looked at the coffee table, where a half-empty bottle of whiskey awaited, a reminder of nights when alcohol was his only reliable companion. Next to the bottle, his gun lay, cold and silent, yet ever-present. It was ironic how the objects surrounding him—the weapons, the elegant furniture, the empty hallways—spoke more about who he had become than any words ever could.

John leaned forward to grab the glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a long gulp. The taste burned his throat, but he didn't wince. There was a strange comfort in feeling something, anything, even if it was just the artificial warmth of the alcohol. The silence returned, relentless.

For a moment, he thought about calling someone. Someone to talk to, even if only for a few minutes. But soon that idea faded away. Who would he call? Who could understand the depth of his darkness?

He set the glass aside and stood up, slowly crossing the room, his heavy footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. Sometimes he found himself wondering if this was the life he had chosen or just the one the world had forced upon him. But, regardless of the answer, he was trapped. There was no easy way out.

Outside, the city continued to pulse, indifferent to the existence of John Wick. And he, in the midst of loneliness, knew he would soon be called to kill again. The cycle never ended.

John stopped in front of the window, watching the city stretch out before him. The bright lights twinkled in the distance, and the distant sound of traffic was the only connection he had to the world outside. He could see life happening, people living their routines without imagining what lurked in the shadows. For them, the city was vibrant, full of opportunities and dreams. For him, it was just a prison, camouflaged in lights and movement.

He rested his hands on the window ledge, feeling the cold of the glass against his skin. Even from his height, he knew he was not above anything. The violence, the darkness, the blood—all of it surrounded him, filled him. There was no escape. Each mission he completed took him deeper into the abyss.

In the distance, a police siren echoed, pulling John from his thoughts. He sighed, knowing there would be more battles ahead, more deaths to add to his already long list.

John stepped away from the window, and instinctively, his eyes fell on the gun on the table. It was an extension of himself, a tool he wielded with deadly precision. There was a part of him that took pride in that—in the efficiency, the skill, the control. But another part, buried deep inside, wondered how long it would last. How long would he endure this cycle of violence before he finally fell?

He picked up the gun and examined it, his fingers gliding over the cold metal. Unlike people, the gun had never betrayed him. It was straightforward, without ambiguities. With it, the world was simple. There was a target and an end.

A soft notification buzzed on his phone, cutting through the silence of the room. The screen lit up with a familiar name—a new job. Another name to cross off the list. He knew he had no choice. He never had. Leaving the gun on the table, he picked up the phone, his fingers hovering over the message for a moment before opening it.

Another contract. Another target.

John closed his eyes for a second, allowing the weight of everything that was to come to settle over him. Then, with the determination that had always guided him, he opened his eyes and left the apartment, ready to face the next battle, just as he always did.

In the end, he was not a man of peace.

Next chapter!

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss on Bringing Robot Love to Broadway With ‘Maybe Happy Ending’

Chances are the multi-talented Darren Criss is as cross-eyed as the rest of us are with the twists and turns his career has taken over the past 13 years. In 2009, he began in television with six years of Glee, playing the lead singer of the Warblers, and helping power a Warblers focused soundtrack album to Number 2 on the Billboard album chart. Then in 2018 he switched fromsinging to spree killing, giving a stunning, steel-plated performance as Andrew Cunanan in Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace. That got him a Golden Globe and a Primetime Emmy and set people to thinking there might be a serious actor lurking inside that singer.

Before that could be settled, the singer reemerged, as a replacement in a Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, raking in $4 million during his three weeks. That was followed with an Off-Broadway revival of Little Shop of Horrors at the Westside Theater and a stint in Hedwig and the Angry Inch at the Belasco Theater.

Two years ago, the actor was back when producer Jeffrey Richards hired him for some deep-dish David Mamet drama, American Buffalo. Now Richardshas returned Criss to the Belasco, and singing, for an original Broadway musical, Maybe Happy Ending—a very original musical, in that it’s about the love life of robots in Seoul circa 2064.

You’ll not find much of that Glee guy you know and love in the character Criss plays in Maybe Happy Ending, a lonely Helperbot robot who putters aimlessly about his tiny apartment, listens to jazz and devotes all his TLC to a favorite pot plant. That changes swiftly when a female form of Helperbot, Claire (Helen J Shen), drops by to borrow his charger. Sparks fly, then conversation, and inevitably a kind of amorous connection.

Despite the nuts and bolts, what we have here is basically a rom-com, with a charming book and score by a couple of NYU classmates.

Actually, there are two books and two scores, one in English, one in Korean. Will Aronson, 43, of New Haven, composed the music, and Hue Park, 41 of South Korea wrote the lyrics. Once they did that, they put their heads together and wrote “connecting tissue”—a play in praise of love’s rejuvenating effects. Even robots at the end of their warranty are susceptible.

Evidently, Hue won the toss because the Korean version premiered first—in Seoul, where the story is set—and proved to be such a success that stateside productions were put together. The English edition made its first U.S. appearance two years ago at Atlanta’s Alliance Theater, where The New York Times’ Jesse Green deemed it “Broadway-ready.” Thus, we now have a live-action robot show going strong on West 44th.

The terror of doing this kind of production, Criss confesses, is that actors are afraid they’ll look like cartoons of their character, taking big, blocky robot steps around the stage. “The show has no listed choreographer,” he tells Observer. But he feels he has that situation well in hand. He and director Michael Arden “have taken a particular interest in making sure the physicality is distinct,” he says. “And I’d be remiss not to mention  a teacher at Juilliard, Moni Yakim, who had some Zoom discussion with us about this.

“It’s kind of a cocktail of those three things: Moni’s suggestions, Michael’s pursuit of perfection and my own interest in physical theater. It’s a skill set that I’ve never been able to utilize—at least to this level. When I was in college, I took a semester off so that I could study physical theater at the Accademia dell’Arte, the performing arts school in Arezzo, Italy.”

A cast of four inhabit the show: Dez Duron, Marcus Choi, Criss, and Shen. You may detect a little kinetic energy between Criss and Shen. That’s because they both attended the University of Michigan—albeit, not at the same time. “She graduated about two seconds ago, and I may have graduated a little longer ago than that,” concedes Criss.

“She graduated two years ago, and 10 years ago my name was up on the marquee at the Belasco Theater. And to be able to come back to the Belasco—but this time to share that billing with a fellow Michigan grad—is a very special moment for me. I’m now the upper-class man to the freshman of Helen J Shen. This is her Broadway debut. It’s a big moment for her, and getting to see her through that on stage—to call that a job is really a special thing for me.”

The enthusiasm Criss brings to the stage is practically palpable—and he still remembers where it came from: encountering Robin Williams at an impressionably early age in the 1992 animated Disney flick, Aladdin, in which his outrageous Genie-jiving was almost heart-stoppingly hilarious.

“I was probably six or seven—and I noticed how this audience connected with each other and with this Genie on the screen. I was very taken with that idea, and I wanted to give people what this Genie was giving them. Then, I found out the voice of that Genie was Robin Williams, who was such a prominent figure out in San Francisco, where I grew up. That made it an accessible concept: ’Oh, Mr. Williams is an actor. I’d like to be an actor, too.’ So I hopped right on it.”

[prettysunnyday]

Hanahaki Disease: Wasted Love Part 1

Helen Otis x Reader

Warning: Fluff, sad, angst, cheating, fighting, mentions of violence, torture, death

Please enjoy...

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A quiet wind blew through the meadow that you currently laid in. Small violets and sweet bee balm grew thick on the ground. You had been sprawled out in the sun, reading a good book that caught your eye a week ago and had finally gotten ahold of. The warm day had made you feel drowsy and after a few hours of devouring the book, sleep took over your dreary senses. In no time you had closed your eyes and fallen asleep.

Your dreams were peaceful for a time until you heard distant shouting. Your dream self began running but you weren't scared. You were nearing a cliff as a voice behind you called your name. The voice sounded loud and impatient. It echoed all around you as your body began to shake. Right before you could see over the cliff's edge, your eyes opened.

Late afternoon sun greeted your (e/c) eyes. You gently rubbed your eyes and yawned. As you sat up, your book flopped onto the ground.

"Shoot!" You muttered. Now you'd have to scour the pages to find where you stopped.

"You snore you know."

You snapped your head towards the voice. A blond boy in a green graphic tee and sweat pants knelt next to you with a smirk on his narrow face. His red eyes dripped blood as he snickered in amusement.

You scowled, "No, Ben. I wouldn't know if I snored because I'm asleep."

Ben shrugged, "Yeah and you sleep heavy. It took sooo much effort to wake you up!" He exaggerated with a sigh.

You swatted his arm as you stood.

"Hey!!" He whined.

"Deserve it." You smiled to yourself as you heard Ben scramble after you. You had collected your book and headed for the mansion. "Anyway, where is your Zelda costume? I didn't know you wore other things."

Ben scoffed, "It is not a costume! It is a masterpiece. Besides, I wear other clothes, I just have preferences. Today I wanted sweats." He patted his legs to make his point.

You laughed lightly. Ben always got you giggling at something and his current antics were no exception. He noticed this and stuck his tongue out at you. You gasped in mock offense before laughing harder.

Soon the mansion came in view. You stared at the melancholy building that you dubbed home years ago. Despite it housing serial killers, you loved every inch. As you ascended the steps you turned back to Ben.

"Why did you wake me up?"

Ben smirked again. "Your manly love is coming home tonight from his mission." He said in a mock baby voice.

You ignored his incessant teasing as your thought began to spiral. Finally! After two long and seemingly endless months, Helen, your Helen, was coming home. You missed your boyfriend dearly and thought he was going to be gone a week. But that turned to two, which was three, then six and ten. You had watched the clock and counted down the days for his arrival.

"When is he coming home, Ben?" You asked.

"Tonight, doll. Helen and Puppeteer should be here and Slendy has an announcement." Ben rolled his eyes at your lack of a reaction.

You beamed at Ben as you nudged him inside. Once in doors Ben headed for the living room. You waved him bye before making it upstairs. Your room was your safe haven and decorated to your style. Beside your bed sat a photograph of you and Helen in a tree. It was taken when you first started dating. You had been looking for Helen after receiving a note to go and find him. Eventually you discovered him in the tree, sketching the mansion. You climbed up to him and he had kissed you lovingly. The picture was taken unknowingly by Ben, who gifted it to you on your birthday. Now it sat in a wooden frame painted red and blue by Helen. It was a beautiful memory and a keepsake present for you to admire.

"Soon you'll be home." You whispered.

You and Helen had met when you first became a creepypasta. He was a shy boy who loved to paint in his room. Of course the observing boy caught your attention. His beautiful eyes stared right back at yours with a hard gaze. They never left you, even after you turned away from him. His blue eyes bore into the back of your head. After several more encounters of you making light conversation and Helen listening to your every word, he finally asked you out.

It took a very long time (six months) for Helen to have mostly opened up to you. Once he adjusted to your presence he began talking. With that milestone under wraps, you realized that quiet Helen had more to say than he lead on. Not only did he talk to you in a gentle and sarcastic manner, Helen had a large vocabulary. Soon his words drew you in more than his looks and attitude. Eventually, neither of you could deny it. You were both smitten with each other, and the affection was still growing.

Now it has been three years of you being together. Well, almost because your three year anniversary was coming up in a month. This excited you beyond belief and you felt light as air when Ben told you Helen would be home soon.

You paced your room in buzzing anticipation. You still had at least a few more hours to wait, so in the meantime you decided to bathe and put on fresh smelling clothes. As warm water filled the tub, you poured lavender Epsom salts in for them to dissolve. Quickly stripping, you eagerly stepped into the soothing water. A sigh of content left your lips and quelled your excitement some. You washed your body with your favorite soaps and slowly rinsed it off. It didn't matter that it was a rather warm day, the water felt luxurious on your skin.

After a while of soaking the water was nearly cold. So you peeled yourself out of the tub and dried off with a soft towel. The fresh clothes you brought was a pair of sleep shorts and a baggy shirt with small orange flowers printed on the cotton fabric. When your hair was dry and brushed you left the bathroom to lounge on your bed.

Your intention was to look at your book and find your unmarked page then head down stairs to eat. One of those things would never happen as you ran to the bed and practically threw your body at a masked boy, who was sprawled on your bed. Despite being dressed in his signature outfit, your boyfriend looked clean of blood and grime. In fact he looked immaculate in your eyes.

"Your back Helen!" You squealed.

You landed on the boy's relaxing form. He still wore his mask, which he strated to remove, before being pummeled back into the bed. Helen wrapped his arms around your waist as you buried your face in his chest.

"I've really missed you." You snuggled as close as your body could get. Helen's chest rumbled with enthusiasm as he let out a small laugh. He ran his long, slender fingers through your hair and gently rubbed your shoulders.

"So have I, Y/N." Helen's smooth voice, which held a faint French accent, calmed your nerves. The knot of emotions tied tightly in your stomach gradually unraveled. You felt your muscles relax against Helen, who hugged you close.

"Two months is to long, Helen."

Helen petted your head, "I am here now, Y/N. No need to fret."

You laid there for what felt like a few minutes, but was actually an hour. Helen told you of what happened in those two months. He and Pup were stalking a rich guy who had valuable information Slenderman needed. They followed him through five different States and eventually cornered him in New York where they tortured information out of him. As Helen spoke, you hummed along matching your breathing to his. It looked like you could fall asleep, and maybe you would. But you were currently invested in his story and periodically asking if he had gotten hurt and if he was ok. Helen caressed your back as he nodded yes and patiently answered your many questions. Eventually your peace was broken by none other than a pleading call from your stomach.

"Helen, I'm hungary." You complained as you raised your head to look at him.

"I heard loud and clear." Helen smirked.

"Oh!" You flicked his arm as your face reddened faintly. This caused Helen to laugh and you shook your head.

"I love you, Y/N." Helen whispered.

You beamed, "I love you, too."

Helen hugged you tightly but you pulled away after a second. Helen tilted his head in confusion. You reached up and pulled his mask away.

"That is much better." You breathed through your teeth.

"Agreed." Helen cupped your face and leaned in to kiss you softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and Helen grinned. He broke away to kiss your cheek and down to your jaw. He brushed his lips on your neck before sucking on it with a sweet tenderness that made your stomach flutter. After a successful hickey bruised your skin, he licked the spot and blew on it. You shivered and felt a sudden wave of nervousness. Helen smiled at how flustered he made you before kissing your lips softly. The kiss, though chaste and short, left you breathless.

Helen leaned back to admire your face. Your heart was beating fast as you waited in anticipation. Then out of nowhere a strange gurgling noise met you ears. Instead, Helen blushed.

"Come my lovely." Helen said after a moment. He began to sit up and you followed him. "We are both evidently famished and I heard we have a meeting tonight or something."

You grasped his hand and you both left the room. You still felt light as a feather as you walked beside Helen's poised figure. His tall, lanky frame and long blue coat hid his built form and gave him a rugged and boyish appearance. Helen was stronger than he appeared and more graceful then expected.

You smiled as you descended the broad staircase and went into the kitchen. Slenderman greeted you kindly and you saw Puppeteer lounging in a chair talking to, or at least trying to, Hobo Heart. The poor guy looked ready to cry. You chuckled to yourself as you sat at the counter. Slender gave both of you a plate of fettuccini, to which you thanked him and started eating.

You weren't half way done when someone called your name. You turned to see Jane making her way over to you. She was dressed in a lovely black beaded dress and matching heels. Satin gloves without finger tips ran up to her elbows. Her luscious ebony hair graced her shoulders. Perfectly round pearls hung from her ears that matched her white skin.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she sat down beside you. Slender gave her a plate and she started eating. "So guess what Y/N." She said, irritable.

"What?" You were mildly intrigued. Jane was a good friend, but all your brain could process was how enjoyable it was to be on cloud 9.

Jane smiled sarcastically, "We have a newcomer."

You thought a moment. "That is the announcement." You said this as a statement more than a question but Jane replied anyway.

"Her name is Olive. She is a real beauty but don't underestimate her." Jane spoke with near venom as she glanced at you.

"I assume you know her?" You asked hesitantly. "What did she do?"

Jane sighed before turning to face you, "Yes, I know Olive. We were friends for a while but nevermind what happened. You are a good friend of mine and I don't want you getting to close to her. There is more to Olive than you think." While saying this, Jane looked you dead in the eyes. "Promise you won't interact with her more than necessary."

You were taken aback by Jane's attitude, but nodded. Jane sighed again before leaving. You watched her leave in surprise at her abrupt visit and departure. She hadn't even finished her food. "What a waste..." You thought before turning to speak to Helen, only to discover him gone. You shrugged and scanned the room for his piercing eyes. Upon not seeing him, you ventured into the living room.

You sat next to Ben, who was playing Mario Cart, but paused when he saw you sit beside him. He swung his feet onto your lap. At first you didn't notice because you were thinking about where Helen had gone. Ben then wrapped his legs around your waist and pulled you close. This brought your focus back. Looking down, you growled.

"Let go Ben." You glared at his smug face

"Hmm..." Ben tapped his chin. "Nah!"

Rolling your eyes you shoved his legs off, only for him to slap them back on your lap. "Ben!!" You groaned.

"Y/N!!" He mocked you.

"SLENDY!!!"

"Stop your crap Ben." Masky said as he walked through the doorway.

Ben grunted and removed his feet. You smile victoriously just for Ben to stick his tongue out at you. Masky flicked Ben's head as he sat in the rickety rocker by the t.v. Hoodie also came in and sat on the couch. He had a bowel of fettuccini in one hand and a bloody hatchet in the other.

"Why do you have Toby's hatchet?" You asked absentmindedly.

Hoodie shook his head, "Not Toby's, it is for the newcomer."

You thought about what Jane had said. She wants you to stay away from her as much as possible. You figured you would since it made her so upset, which was unlike her. The new girl was going to have a hatchet as a murder weapon. You vaguely wondered about it as you thought of Helen. He disappeared without a word, which was normal, but he just got back from a long mission. Maybe Slendy called him or he was taking a shower.

You were getting ready to go find him when Slenderman came down the stairs. Jeff was behind him with Sally on his hip. EJ took up the rear before he, Jeff, and Sally came to sit with us. Slender pulled back the curtains and looked out the window. The room was silent, even Ben stopped his game to wait for Slender to speak. Soon he unlocked the door and it swung open.

"She is here."

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Note: I will have part 2 posted soon. I apologize for any spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. This is only part 1 and I promise it will get more angst as the story progresses.

Thanks for reading💐