#i heard it in a trailer it was barely discernible i think i used that word right

[mychemicalbrromance]

#1 like a prayer fan none of you understand (insane)

[let-the-valleys-awake]

I watched Across The Spiderverse yesterday, here are my two(hundred) cents!

This will just be a lot of me gushing about how much I love ATSV, no theories because I’m not smart enough for that 💀

ATSV SPOILERS!!

ATSV SPOILERS!!

Alright, let’s get into it. (These are in no particular order and I prob forgot a lot of stuff)

Am I the only one who thought Hobie was a whole ass adult? Like he looks at least 20 am i crazy? (Keep in mind I have no prior comic knowledge sorry bout that 💀)

THE ANIMATION STYLES!!! Omfg they were so good, like the occasional live action elements, the LEGO UNIVERSE, Hobie’s whole thing, it’s all just so fucking cool!! Especially the comic book textures with like the shading and rough line art it’s all just so fun to look at

I kinda hate Miguel but I gotta be honest he is SUCH A GOOD ANTAGONIST. Like he has good intentions (I think) but goes way overboard due to past memories. He isn’t truly evil, he just projects all of his past mistakes onto Miles. He is just barely in the ‘I don’t like you’ category for me but what he did to Miles was wack so he’s staying there.

If I had to pick a favorite, it would be Spider Punk. I’m just a sucker for cool characterization and ‘mess shit up’ people. His big brother dynamic with Miles is just so fucking fun dude. I also just like listening to his voice, bravo to Daniel Kaluuya, he did a great job. Also I heard that just Hobie’s animation alone took about 2 years to do (could be lies)

Pavitr was 🤏this close to being my favorite. If he got more screen time he defo would’ve been my number one, because HOLY SHIT he is the silliest mfer I’ve ever seen. I love the detail on his suit and when he uses his bangles as like yo-yos. And his banter with the other three was just so cute. Like when he went ‘Another easy win for Spider-Man-‘ and everything fucking explodes, I was cracking up 😭😭

The marketing and like almost non-existent foreshadowing for the Spot being one of the main antagonists was so genius!! Like the trailers painted him as just a random guy Miles fought, because that’s how he saw him! As just another d-list villain!! Also The Spot’s lines are so funny dude, and his voice-acting, like the pinnacle of Average Joe™ but he also shares a VA with Ash from Fantastic Mr Fox soooo

I SAW 20 SECONDS OF SUN SPIDER AND I AM BEGGING FOR MORE she’s so fun

In the scene where Gwen n Miles are sitting together upside down, there’s a shot where they are just tiny in the corner and it’s just the whole cityscape, and it is one of my favorite shots in the whole movie, it was so fucking beautiful. The two are small and upside down to show how ostracized and different they feel from the rest of society. (because they are) But, a minute later, it flips so that the two are sitting right side up while the cityscape is upside down, which symbolizes their bond and how they find solace in each other.

I love how the background fades and melts as Gwen is having the confrontation with her Dad near the end. I can’t remember any specifics because it’s been two days since I saw it, but it was so telling how everything melded together except Gwen and her Father because that’s all Gwen could think about.

I thought the movie was PG but they cursed at least like three times so that’s fun

MILES WITH BRAIDS 😍😍 honestly I can’t tell which style I like more, they both match each version’s demeanor so well.

The way I could immediately tell in earth-42 at the end that something was up with Uncle Aaron. But like, aside from the fact that he was alive 💀. His face was constantly casted in shadow with his eyes highlighted, if I remember correctly I think they were purple tinted as well? These not-so-subtle art choices were so beautifully crafted to give me just the right sense of unease.

I really wished they did more with Jessica Drew. I just feel like she was kind of a blank slate with no truly discerning personality. I did like her internal conflict with following Miguel’s orders and doing what’s right. I really hope she has a larger role in Beyond or I’ll be sad.

The themes of teenage relationships are so fucking powerful in this movie and I think that’s beautiful. Neither Miguel nor Jessica supported Miles, or even Gwen. All of their comfort came from each other. Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles’s bond is so strong because they are all truly there for each other.

I am so disappointed that we didn’t see any Spider Noir. He was one of my faves in the first movie 😭

Hobie + Pavitr has gotta be one of my favorite duos. Especially in Hobie’s debut scene where they’re roughhousing, their dynamic is just so cute. I’ve seen people ship them and I’m not against it, I just can’t see Hobie as anything more than a big brother tbh

That’s all that comes to mind right now, hope you enjoyed my word vomit. I have so much more stuff to say but that will need a rewatch, I’m gonna go to bed

[vqlisms]

(deep sigh) time to analyse the side order trailer

anyways i have something i want to bring up beforehand that will very much affect the story we are presented. 1: side order was the original concept for the hero campaign we’d have been given if team order won finalfest. 2: there were sides planned depending on if team chaos or order won from the beginning, and we would’ve gotten different stories for each. i’d bring up splat1 finalfest, but it had a very different layout all things considering (it was /only/ to decide the hero campaign story, which was decently cookie cutter to make which squid sister goes missing easy to change with just minor rewrites depending on who won finalfest). splatoon 2–>3 took that much more serious because it actually gave us game concepts to debate between whereas splat1’s was likely just the devs wanting a dramatic finalfest before realising it’d be cool to tie-into the story of splatoon 2. either way, i’ll be exploring both options and their potential implications on the story separately

a key part of splatoon is audio. that’s music, sfx, background chatter, the works. right off the bat, the reddish orange webbing across the screen when it blacks out and the rhythm makes me think heartbeat. that and the piano and white scenery screams hospital to me. i don’t think we’re playing in a hospital, the signs looked more like buried shopping centers, so maybe a repurposed mall? that would make sense with the shot of an elevator, but the high windows and panelled walls are throwing me off a bit, because those look part of the original building. Also, toward the end, i swear to god i started hearing a new song fade in. i don’t think it was the squid sisters and it was super quiet compared to the piano and stuff but i swear i heard voices

okay artwork artwork artwork. first painted shot is an elevator/gate/metal doorway next to a high-set window with something dripping from the corner. the walls are plated with grout between, but they look metal? plants can be seen through the window, it looks a bit like seaweed or ferns. / incredibly stained photo of pearl (left) and marina (right). marina is borderline indistinguishable. pearl is holding something round and pinkish by her face. photo is incredibly desaturated and warped. / octoling with orange ink. they are brown, in a white uniform with something blue green red hanging from their left hip. white weapon in their right hand looks like a gal, with red wire wrapping around orange tank. left hand holding something orange and red, too small to be ink tank or a weapon addition, and looks like it has a handle on it to be held. background is plastered with ink but too blurry to make out anything specific. top right shows a white robotic creature with an orange glow and dark accents. / downward shot of legs and a shadow. noticeably similar silhouette to armoured agents with the earphones. pants are tights with no discernible shoes or patterning. tentacle/arm is visible, if long tentacle would fit with previous art of captain 3. / octoling from trailer squatting by a cliff. dark matter spikes into a white background with similar webbing to one of the previous skits crawling along the floor/walls. octoling is now wearing black shoes, but otherwise looks like the one in the trailer. / glitchy profile view of marina, holding her hands pleadingly in front of her. she wears a black top and her usual headphones. her ink colour is blue. / shot of a teal ink octoling staring out of a caged in space. there are brown and wearing a white uniform. their face isn’t visible. further left, a leg is barely within frame. the leg is bare with only a black boot visible. floor is panelled, and the windows are mesh and glass. reflection shows the octoling has a shocked/awed face, no noticeable distinguishing features otherwise. / pearl (?) almost indistinguishable walking away from the camera. person/creature leading (?) her. only non-blurry thing is a porous rock (coral?) blocking the bottom right fourth of the screen. / inkfish standing in front of fancy old-timey gated elevator. room is noticably overgrown, with reflective/transparent tiled flooring. plants grow from the ceiling and base of pillars framing the elevator. from under the gate is a large puddle of darker liquid staining the ground. inkfish has pointed ears and long tentacles reminiscent of octolings, but no visible suckers. / octoling standing atop distant buildings with coral growing from their roofs. buildings and background are indistinct, with closer ones being blacked out, and background radiating white light. / pearl in the same setting as the unknown octoling, staring and smiling down at the camera from behind orange shades. she is wearing her crown and wraparound shades, and a grey jacket, olive shirt, and black gloves. / cream background, getting incrementally darker around black squiggles (creature? map?). a red spiral scribble marks a dark blob on the canvas. the black marks eerily resemble a skeleton, showing a long beak/muzzle, detached lower jaw, spinal cord, and ribcage. no visible suggestion of the artist/creature depicted. / painted shot of the octoling in a large room. pillars brave the ceiling, and coral grows from cracks in the floor. dark liquid pools on the floor. bottom right shows blurred indistinct text (i’m decently sure this is a font we’ve seen and/or decoded before, so i might look closer into that later). white particles float along the scenery. / octoling in the elevator. no buttons have visible markers. patterns on the bottom right corner of the wall. elevator has different layout to the other we’ve seen, with this one having blank metallic walls. / incredibly dark shot of a mass. bottom of the screen shows a solid black mass, while the top has what appear to be wires hanging (presumably) from the ceiling or a creature. /

/ (cont.) shot of the octoling laying on the ground, shielding their eyes. background is blotted, but appears to be inside of a building with low and wide windows. a cross marks the floor behind them, though it’s purpose cannot be made out. / shot of marina in a line with other octolings with similar hairstyles. all are wearing white uniforms. the octoling behind marina is pale with pinkish tentacles. there appears to be something around their necks. the environment is abstract. / octoling looking into the camera, sitting on another abstract environment. shot lasts noticably longer than others.

shots of web-like reddish-orange pulsing matter in a dark space, pulsing to the beat of the music. / shots of a translucent thin membrane with outward to inward dark->light->dark rings patterned along the sides. background is maybe a store ceiling? rectangles of dark and light that are def supposed to be an area though they’re purposely blurry and vague. / more strange translucent reflective membrane, this time without the rings patterned within and significantly less coagulated. once again purposefully blurry shot of the background, but it seems somewhat panelled? / red staining a white background, no distinguishable pattern. / closeup shot of brain coral patterning that progressively blurs and warps slightly. / incredibly blurred mucous(?) warping and flexing inward on itself, white spirals patterning the outside.

the scenery itself is noticably washed out and pale. coral grows from sandy floors, swallowing almost up to the storefront logos. upon closer examination, the area is a white version of inkopolis square, containing all of the stores, depowered screens, grizzco, battle lobby, buildings, everything.

storywise, i’ll once again break this into two sections. here is side order being the concept we’d have been given if team order won finalfest

likely not agent 8. perhaps could be an inkling like n3o?

this is definitely post-splatoon 2. the inkfish moving to splatsville thing has already been explained in-universe and them moving because the city of chaos was more fresh. so whatever the fuck happened to inkopolis square must’ve only happened relatively recently. also, if the expansion is coming to us with only inkopolis plaza, then why was inkopolis square targeted?? is the plaza just a recreation????

now, thoughts on if side order was planned to only exist if team chaos won.

side order is likely going to give us more off the hook background/content. perhaps we’re playing as agent 8 again since the octoling is using the original hairstyles?

the character appearing in the paintings with agent 8. i don’t think pearl has any official clothes right now with dark boots and shorts. maybe new pearl outfit? black boots are only clearly shown in one other shot which is the one of the octoling in front of the webs and spikes. that’s not counting the one with the character that’s blocked out to where we can’t exactly see their clothes.

is this why inkopolis square wasn’t shown in the expansion? we’re only getting inkopolis plaza because inkopolis square got fucking coralised?

black goop is way too dark to be tar-tar’s sanitisation stuff, and that skeleton has me thinking. i looked up the skeletons of some of the more popular creatures i’ve heard tossed around for splatoon designs, and it looks a bit like a stylised orca skeleton but with a disconnected jaw bone? hmm

ok my brain is starting to turn a bunch so imma come back to this if i think of anything else in a bit buh bye

[bestillmyslashyheart]

1x05 Coda

Isobel tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Even sitting close to the fire, she was still cold. Part of her was sure she wouldn’t be able to get warm. Not tonight at least. Not after Noah left.

Beside her she heard Michael shifting in his seat. Neither one of them had spoken in a while, enjoying the company without needing to fill the silence. She knew at some point they’d need to talk. There was no way she could stay in the trailer tonight, there just wasn’t enough room. She’d go to Max’s but neither one of them had a car at the moment. And she didn’t exactly have her phone.

She moved so she could lean her elbow on the armrest and put her head down on her hand. She had been running their previous conversation over in her head. Maybe she should tell Noah. Be done with the secrets for good. But something held her back and she wasn’t sure what. She just couldn’t bring herself to be wholly honest with him, no matter how much she loved him.

She picked her head up. Michael sent her a worried glance but she ignored him. She was thinking. Michael had said they should finally be honest with the people that they love. But- who did Michael want to be honest with? She turned to him with a furrowed brow. He was still eyeing her and just raised an eyebrow.

“Earlier,” she started, “you said we should let ourselves be honest with the people that we love.”

Slowly, he nodded. He looked a bit confused. Isobel couldn’t blame him. She was trying to continue a conversation they’d had almost an hour ago.

“Who would you tell?” She asked. “I mean, just the other week you were saying there wasn’t anyone you cared about enough to risk everything for but now there’s someone you want to let in on our secret?”

Michael looked down at the beer in his hands. He didn’t answer.

“I thought we just agreed to have no more secrets between us, Michael.”

Michael leant forward and ran a hand through his hair. He stared into the dwindling fire in front of them, the flames reflecting in his eyes.

“I, uh,” he cut himself off with a humorless laugh. “So there’s-”

This time it was the crunch of tires over gravel that cut him off. Both of them turned towards the entrance as a truck pulled up next to them, slamming on its breaks. Isobel didn’t recognize it; she pulled the blanket even tighter to cover herself while beside her Michael tensed. She wanted to look at him but the car door opened and she was too curious who the driver was to look away.

Isobel could honestly say she was not expecting Alex Manes. She watched as he slid from the car and limped towards them, walking without a crutch but with something clutched tightly in his hands.

She looked over at Michael. What was Alex doing visiting him at this time of night? He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t even looking at Alex. No, he was staring off into space shaking his head as he took a long sip of his beer.

“Guerin.” Alex greeted.

Michael finally looked at him. “Whatever it is, no. Just. Just come back tomorrow. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Isobel couldn’t quite figure out the look that was on his face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen it before.

Alex clenched his jaw. “I need to talk to you.”

Michael scoffed. “I can’t imagine we have anything to talk about. And if we do, we don’t need to do it tonight. Seriously Manes. Come back tomorrow.”

What the hell was going on? Isobel kept looking back and forth between the two men. Both had closed off expressions on their faces so it was hard to discern what was truly going on here. God knows, the conversation didn’t give her any clues.

Alex looked away then looked at her. She watched him make a decision. He fiddled with the package in his hands, unwrapping something. Isobel looked at Michael but he seemed as confused as she was.

Finally, Alex revealed a piece of glass that seemed to glow. Isobel leaned forward. At first, she thought it was the reflection of the fire but there were too many colors for that.

“We need to talk.” Alex insisted, his face set and his eyes never leaving Michael. She turned to look at her brother. He seemed surprised but also resigned?

“Michael?” She asked. He barely glanced at her.

“And why would we need to talk about a piece of glass?” Michael asked. He was trying to play nonchalant but it didn’t fool Isobel for a moment, and if the scoff was anything to go by, it wasn’t fooling Alex.

“I’ve only ever seen this once before.” Alex answered. He gestured to the Airstream. “You’ve got a piece in there. So you’re gonna tell me what it is.”

Isobel furrowed her brow - when was Alex in Michael’s home? She sent a quizzical look in Michael’s direction. This time, he met her gaze. He seemed to be trying to convey something to her but she wasn’t picking up on it.

Luckily, he appeared to reach a decision pretty quickly. He let out a deep sigh and drained the bottle, tossing it aside. Rather than shattering, it gently landed in the recycle bin set up a few feet away. Isobel’s eyes widened at the blatant display of his powers. Alex let out a quiet sound of surprise.

Michael shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “We’re aliens. And that is a piece of alien tech.”

[latviaaaaaa]

The Guard Cat

She’s staring out the window again. She’s had this habit since she was a kitten; cats like to stare out windows, sure, but she makes a point of doing it for hours at a time. I used to think she was watching birds, or maybe on the lookout for foxes. And maybe that was part of it, but I think we’ve both learned since then that there are scarier things to look out for. And more interesting things to think about.

Her whiskers twitch at a slight movement in some bushes by the side of the road, where we’ve stopped to rest for the afternoon. Some kind of small animal; anything more than that and she would go off like a burglar alarm. I’ve never heard what a burglar alarm sounds like, but I know they used to keep them in public places - banks and museums and malls and such, when burglary was still unusual and considered a threat to public safety. Alarm systems in such places have been deactivated since then, or have fallen into disrepair, which is good for us because it means we can find food and other necessities undisturbed.

Unless, of course, we make a wrong turn and head unwittingly into a trap. That’s when Judy takes over.

Her job is, in theory, an easy one: sniff out trouble, alert the humans, and we’ll all leave. She’s good at it, and she needs to be. We’re really into not waiting out the danger around here, since that usually ends up being worse than just moving on and spending the occasional night hungry. Even a cat would agree, but at least Judy can hunt in the bushes by the road, where the few critters left after the invasion still burrow and nest, shrinking back into the earth like a frightened child into their mother’s arms.

The cat glances away from the window at last, apparently satisfied with her scouting, and finally notices me lying down next to her. We’re on the top bunk in the back, where I get to sleep because I’m the youngest and therefore weakest - that’s basically what Sune said when I asked where we’d be sleeping. “You get to go up there, where Judy’s sitting,” she told me, pointing out the pale silhouette of the cat in the moonlight, the night we packed up our trailer and left town for good, “since you’re so little. She’ll protect you. Plus I get motion sickness, so I want to be close to the ground in case I have to throw up in the middle of the night.”

This was a wise negotiation tactic of hers: give an order, add a minor insult, and then before they can fight back, come up with a maddeningly good reason to support your argument. I knew I wasn’t little anymore (I’m twelve already, for God’s sake!), and even though I wouldn’t have minded sleeping up there, I at least wanted a better reason than, “you’re small and inferior in terms of self-defense, so we’re giving you this housecat for protection. Like that’ll do anything for you.”

But I also knew I really didn’t want to wake up suddenly in the night, covered in my sister’s vomit, so I obeyed with a grumble and snuggled up under my blanket, my face roughly a foot away from the ceiling. Judy made room for me and my blanket cocoon, shuffling herself to the side as I climbed in; then, after I resettled, she padded over to me and licked my face until I opened the blankets for her. It’s become our little routine, every bedtime: she lets me climb in with her, nuzzles my cheek like she’s ringing a doorbell, and snuggles up with me in our warm little blanket burrito. Sometimes I curl my arm around her, scratch her head, listen to the sound of her purr as we both drift off to sleep. It’s like when I used to hug a pillow in my sleep, but fluffier and cuddlier. As solitary as cats are known to be, I always thought it was curious how sweet and affectionate Judy can be sometimes.

Right now, as soon as she notices me, she walks over and settles down next to my head, keeping her warm green eyes trained fully on mine. Her little paws are curled in beneath her weight, her fur keeping them hidden from view, but I know that the front two have a pair of little white fur-socks, and the back two are a dusty, russet color. That’s why we named her Judy, after Judy Garland, because it looked like she was wearing red shoes; on her, they’re a little more reminiscent of cowgirl boots than the sparkly ruby slippers Dorothy owned, but for what she lacks in costume accuracy she makes up for in personality. Judy’s a young tabby, no more than three years old, and she’s been fixed; yet you could swear she thinks of all of us as her kittens.

As if agreeing with me, she leans her head forward and sniffs a lock of my hair that dangles between us, before tilting her head and chewing on it. Human hair is nowhere the same texture as her fur, a fact of which she is well aware, but she tries grooming us nonetheless. Every time I see her curled up on Sune, she’s got either part of her shirt or part of her hair in her mouth. And she takes this business of hers seriously, leaving little puddles of cat drool on Sune’s shoulders as she lies there, unassuming and in blissful peace. Once I tried to wake her, to point out the saliva slowly accumulating on her favorite shirt, but she merely waved me aside with her hand.

“If the cat’s happy, I’m happy,” she murmured through a thick veil of sleep, turning onto her side and letting Judy tumble onto her back, the collar of my sister’s shirt still caught in her teeth.

Weirdos. Then again, I was the one who once tried to return the favor for Judy and ended up with an extensive personal knowledge of what hairballs feel like when they form in your throat, so I guess I’m not really one to talk.

But the cat tries her best, either way you look at it, and I’m grateful for it because sometimes it feels like she’s the only one who is. Ever since we hit the road, Mom and Mama have been… Different. It’s not that they love us less - if anything, I think they maybe even love us more than before - they just have a lot of things on their mind. Like keeping us all safe.

A few days ago, we were completing a raid on an old supermarket. It was a good spot, surprisingly fresh - the fridges were even still cold, which I thought was kind of amazing, and the cash box still had money in it, some of which we took in case we needed kindling for later. Our packs were almost full by the time Mama turned to us and said she thought we should get going soon; the sun would be setting within the hour, and we needed to get back on the road before then. Sune agreed, and went to pick up Judy when Mom pointed out that she hadn’t shown even the slightest sign of panic or fear towards this place since we got there, and that if the cat wasn’t scared, there was no reason for us to be, either.

I saw the reason behind Mom’s logic. Judy had never before missed an evil presence, nor failed to inform us. And the old supermarket was pretty cool. But I’d seen my fair share of what can happen when you overestimate how safe you are indoors, and I didn’t want to stay here any longer than I needed to.

Neither did Mama. And so an argument ensued, and when they started to face each other in a way that resembled lions in a cage, Sune took me by the shoulder and led me away into what had once been the produce section. “Crazy, aren’t they?” She tried to sound upbeat and confident. It fell flat, but I didn’t mind so much; we both hated the sound of our mothers arguing. The quiet of the opposite end of the store, or the sound of her voice dying a shameful, albeit relieving death in her throat, was better.

Until she froze, without warning, nails suddenly claws digging into my shoulder. We had both heard it: the low, guttural sound coming from beyond two swinging doors, where employees used to walk through, back when they still worked here. I barely had time to think that we should’ve brought Judy with us before Sune full-on lifted me up and ran, and I heard the doors burst open with earth-shaking violence behind us and a roar swept old boxes off their shelves next to us, and I clung to her and screamed, screamed, was that me or was that Mama, or Mom, or Sune, or was it Judy, screeching and bolting across the aisles, leading the way to the exit.

We ran and didn’t stop until we reached the van again. It took us all of ten seconds to climb inside, start the engine, and take off down the road, faster than we’d ever driven before. Mama’s knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel when I finally convinced her to slow down, Sune couldn’t take much more until she threw up. When the grey and brown flashes outside the window were finally discernible as nature again, and her stomach had stopped lolling around inside her like a dying fish, my sister fell asleep with her muddy boots on and Judy curled up beside her, nose hidden in her tail, still trembling. I got the strangest feeling, looking at her, that she felt guilty somehow.

That night I lay awake, unable to sleep. It wasn’t so much the memory of the beast in the supermarket, the doors clanging open, the shelves collapsing in our wake that kept me up - although that was certainly part of it - but rather the sound of my mothers’ voices. They were quieter, now, in the driver’s section of the trailer, and more emotional. It had been a rough day.

I could see, in the faint light coming from the open window, Mom holding Mama’s hands as she spoke to her, trying and failing to stay calm enough for them both. “I’m sorry.” I could see her lips forming the basic words. “Agnes, I’m sorry. I thought we were safe.”

Aside from one thing - “Our babies, our babies” - I couldn’t make out what Mama was saying back.

They lay down on the mattress they shared a few minutes later, next to Sune, who was still asleep and who would continue to sleep well into the next day. I continued to lie there, still, frozen in the dark. Mama wouldn’t look at Mom.

Then, as I listened, watched with my closed eyes, something strange happened. I heard Judy’s tired little “mrr” from the bunk below, felt the bed frame quake as she stretched, then leapt over my sister and made her way over to the mattress where my parents were supposed to be sleeping. I listened to her climb over them and settle down in between, purring softly, pinning the blanket down to the bed. Grounding them. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before I heard the nightly exchange I didn’t realize I had been waiting for:

“Goodnight, Agnes.”

“Goodnight, Stefanie.”

Judy stops chewing on my hair for a moment and tilts her head at me. I tilt mine back. Her little pink tongue darts out, and I can’t help but laugh as I reach out to scratch her belly. That’s another weird thing about this cat: she has no reservations when it comes to having her belly scratched. She loves belly scratches, even though she’s a cat, she knows what we feel, she can sense evil…

“Hey, Judy?”

I’ve got to be imagining to way she flicks her head at me, eyes happily closed but ears standing straight up. It can’t be that she really hears me. And yet, some part of me knows, intrinsically, that she does.

“Are you our guardian angel or something?”

Her eyes open suddenly, and wide. They lock on mine, as though to ask, how did you know?

Her whiskers tremble a little, so I play with them until they calm down. I shrug at her. “Dunno. I don’t think I did know, really. I just wanted to ask.”

If I can judge by the way she watches me a second longer, looking almost amused, before rolling onto her back and stretching her paws over my face, the answer satisfies. Alright. I can live with that.

“As long as you’re keeping us alive.” I smile when I hear her start to purr in response. I imagine she’s laughing in her sleep.

- March 11th, 2019. Also shortly before midnight.

Hey! So, yeah, I need to figure a way to write decent one-shots without having them turn into full-on existential nightmares, and also within a reasonable time frame so I can like. Sleep. You know?

Aside from this, and the rest of school, life is okay. I saw an old friend of mine today, which should’ve been nice, but I noticed that she’s changed a lot since I last saw her... Like, a lot... So now I just feel kinda bleh. It’s one of those days, it’s a “bleh” day.

So, obviously, the whole “multiple posts a day so I can catch up” thing isn’t working out so well, so I may just have to continue doing them like every 4-5 days or something. That or I’ll actually stretch out my comfort zone and get better at writing short things XD

I would like to know what y’all think of these, so far! If there’s anything in particular anyone wants me to write about, I am very open to suggestions (although seeing as this is a school assignment, even though I would love to write openly about SSSS, I don’t think I can really do more than include subtle allusions to it for now).

[shivaliszt]

How Strange, Innocence - Chapter 1

The day was ending, and the skies were darkening, Streetlamps and car headlights provided the only useful light. If it wasn’t enough that I worked for a factory where even in the administration workers started before the sun rose and finished after it set, it was also raining today. The windshield wipers of my old car beat back and forth as fast as they could to try and keep the rain from blocking my view. A podcast played over the speakers of my car, providing a replay of a news segment which I missed every day while I was in the office. I listened idly, trying to take note of what they were talking about. Why I lived as far from my work as I did, I wasn’t sure, but it required something besides just music to keep my mind engaged so that I didn’t start to drift on the long drive. After one too many close calls where I found myself dozing off while driving, I had to figure out a way to keep myself alert. Podcasts seemed to do the trick.

Two sedans sped past in the next lane going far too fast in the heavy rain. They could have been racing one another, I wasn’t really sure. To be honest, most of the traffic was going too fast for how heavy the rain was. The Interstate was notorious for jamming, and they would be hard-pressed to stop fast enough if we came up on one.  An eighteen-wheeler rig in front of me was going slower than the rest of traffic, so I tabbed the blinker on my car, getting ready to pass.

The rig twisted to the side, jackknifing so that the cab was faced the wrong way as it forced to the side by the momentum of the trailer. It slid off to the side of the road. I panicked and stomped my foot down on the brake of the car, watching in front of me as what the rig was trying to avoid came into view.

A glowing black and yellow sphere, at least twenty feet tall, cast its own bright yellow light across the highway. The sphere was yellow on the outside, with tendrils twisting like a spiral in the darkness of the center, devoid of color.

The bald tires of my car failed to grip well on the asphalt, hydroplaning my car closer and closer to the sphere. I watched in horror not able to control my body as I overcorrected the steering in terror trying to avoid it. The old sedan swerved to the side and my car stopped sideways in the lane, just feet away from the sphere. I had only a moment of relief before movement to my right side caught my eye and a car which had been behind me slammed into the right side of my car. I didn’t even have time to scream as my body jerked violently – seatbelt locked, holding me in place – from the momentum as my car was propelled the last few feet, pushing my car drivers’ side first into the sphere. The last thing I was blinding yellow light consuming me from the left.

 Unknown Date, Unknown Time Unknown Location

‘What is going on?’

No other thought flew through my mind. Cold air buffeted me, howling in the black darkness of night. I was on a ledge, maybe six feet across, and beyond it was an inky darkness.

‘How did I get here?’

Nothing.

Blank.

Nothing was coming to mind. What had I been doing before this? No. it's not possible. A sinking feeling started to crawl up from the pit of my stomach threatening to choke me. I can't remember anything. What’s my name? How did I get here? Where is here?

My neck hurt, the muscles sore and locked into place. My chest burned with pain when I breathed in and out.

My vision started pulsing with little black dots as I leaned forward onto my knees and started hyperventilating. A few moments later my stomach roiled, and I leaned forward and vomited.

I looked over the side of my little ledge, glanced, really. The wind clawed at me and made my eyes dry and start to water. As my eyes adjusted, the pitch blackness of night turned slightly, and I started to discern light. There was a city below me sparkling and shimmering with thousands of little lights, each one blurring together with the tears filling my rapidly drying out eyes. My head felt light and packed full of fluff. I was scared to move an inch; the ledge was so small. I screamed for help but the wind caught my words and threw them away. I screamed again and again. No one came. No one responded.

I felt the world tilt as my vision bled fully into black, the shimmering twinkling lights of the city below disappearing.

It was still dark when I woke up.  My eyes were sealed shut and it took a few moments to them open. My eyelashes brushed uncomfortably against rough fabric. I was slowly beginning to realize, panic rising in my stomach, that I was sitting in a chair with my hands tied behind my back, wrists and fingers numb, and a blindfold covering my face. The thick rough feeling in my mouth wasn’t a severe hangover, it was a gag.

I moved my head slightly, regretting it almost instantly as I felt the soreness in the muscles. I groaned at the feeling.

From behind me, I heard a deep rough male voice. I couldn't understand what he said.

Footsteps sounded as they circled around in front of me. The gag was roughly yanked out, dragging against my teeth and leaving a bad taste of rotten eggs.

I cracked my chapped lips. "Water, please," I moaned out softly.

My cheek stung and my head snapped to the side. They, whoever they were, had slapped me. I felt nauseous and I could feel the blood rushing through my temples and my smarting cheek.

Several voices spoke around me, one shouting. I cringed into the seat. A more menacing deep voice started talking and saying what sounded like questions.

Then repeated again. "Anata deska?" A large hand roughly grabbed my chin. "Anata deska?" It repeated louder this time.

I started crying. "I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I don't understand you."

"Anata deska?" Louder again, bordering on a shout.

"Please, I don't understand you," I pleaded. That just earned me another blow to the face and a punch to the stomach. The air rushed out of my lungs and I doubled forward as far as my bound arms would let me, unable to breathe.

"Anata deska?" Was repeated once again, a shout this time, and accompanied by someone kicking over the chair I was in. A lot of other words were repeated but I only recognized those two as they were the most repeated.

I was crying; I didn't care. I kept begging them to let me go and they kept screaming at me in that foreign language of theirs. At times they would hit me, kick me, I wasn't sure. A knife was held to my neck. I felt the razor sharp edge slice into my bare skin in a long thin line as whoever held it questioned me again. My wrist snapped as they hauled me back up into a sitting position but it only joined the rest of the hurt I was feeling. Blood pounded in my ears. I couldn't think.

Sometimes when they asked a question it would be delivered in a soft tone of voice, like they were merely asking about the time of day, or if I would prefer spaghetti or pizza for lunch. Sometimes they would scream at me like they were about to put a bullet in my head. Every question was accompanied by a blow.

Always.

I almost broke in that place. I still wonder how I didn't. Maybe I did. I’m really not sure of much anymore.

[drink-the-midnight-oil]

Our Eternity: Part 2

Bughead AU: It’s been a decade since Betty left Riverdale when she was sixteen. Now, the death of an old friend brings her back to the town she grew up in and loved. And along with it, the return of old friends, memories, and a love that has haunted her for the past ten years. 

Part 1

They say that when an earthquake hits, a tsunami follows. It’s a horrible after-effect of what is already a terrible disaster. A tidal wave rushes onto the land, swallowing everything that the earthquake left unharmed. Just when you think it’s over and try to stand back up, another wave crashes, pulling you back under. 

Archie’s death had shaken Betty’s world to its core, the walls separating her past and present, collapsing. She’d struggled to regain her ground. And then the tsunami hit. 

Jughead Jones stood in front of Betty, his expression indecipherable. His beautiful black curls formed a halo around his head as they blew in the wind. His perfect lips parted as he spoke.

“I never I thought I would see you back in Riverdale.”

Neither did I, Betty thought. But here we are.

“I heard about Archie,” she said. “I came to pay my respects.”

“It’s horrible, what happened to him,” Jughead held her gaze. His blue eyes stared at her with a fiery intensity. “But he’s in a better place now.”

“I guess so,” Betty said, uncomfortable.

Jughead pulled a hand out of his pocket and ran it through his hair, brushing it back. A glint of something shiny caught Betty’s eye. As he brought his hand back down, Betty noticed a silver band adorning his ring finger.

So he was married. A miserable feeling rose in her throat. She wanted to run to her car, drive back to New York, and hide for eternity. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be done. So instead, she compromised.

“I would love to stick around and chat Jug, but Veronica is waiting for me at the Pembrooke. You know how she gets when people are late.” 

A sweet smile to accompany a blatant lie.

“Oh, um, okay then,” Jughead answered, a hint of discernable disappointment in his voice.

Immediately, Betty felt bad. They’d barely said three sentences to each other and she was trying to leave already. What was she doing? It wasn’t his fault that she didn’t want to talk. But a person’s initial response to a tsunami is to run away from it as fast as possible and seek high ground. Currently, that was Veronica’s penthouse. 

She sighed, hating herself for feeling so guilty.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Jughead replied. “How long are you in town?”

“Another two days and then I’m gone. Back to the city.”

“Oh.” A look of defeat.

“Anyways, it was great seeing you. Bye.” 

“Bye.” A moment of incompleteness.

Betty turned and fled, not wanting to drag it on. She fumbled through her purse, searching for her keys. Finding them, she unlocked the car door and slid in. In the rearview mirror, Betty noticed Jughead looking at Archie’s grave. Maybe she’d meet him again. They might grab a milkshake at Pop’s. 

Betty shook away the uneasy feeling creeping up on her. After all, what was the most that could happen in two days?

He wasn’t wearing the beanie, Betty thought as she jogged down the sidewalk. It was early Saturday morning and Riverdale was still asleep. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, promising a beautiful day. But all Betty could think about was her encounter with Jughead the previous evening. 

The way he had looked at her, as if he couldn’t believe that it was really her. It had made her own heart flutter, seeing him again. He hadn’t changed much. Still the same beautiful face, just a bit more matured. The same quiet, broody manner about him. Betty remembered his hands and the way they would cradle her face when he kissed her, the way his fingers pressed against her waist when he pulled her close-

Get your head out of the gutter, she scolded herself. He’s a married man.

Betty picked up her pace, her shoes hitting the concrete with more force. The wind whipped around her face and rushed past her ears. But she pushed on, willing herself to run faster, away from her officious thoughts. Her lungs burned and her calves screamed but Betty didn’t slow down.

She ran around the corner and down the path until she finally allowed herself to slow down to a jog and then stop, panting. She bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. There was a nagging ache in her side.

Straightening, Betty looked up and saw the sign on her left.

Sunnyside Trailer Park 

Great. Of all the places in Riverdale, she’d ended up here. Just like the rest of Riverdale, the outer appearance of the trailer park hadn’t changed. The welcome sign stood old and rusty. The area was eerily quiet. Cautiously, she entered the park, not sure of whether to proceed or turn back. But her curiosity got the best of her.

Surprisingly, Betty made her way through the maze of trailers quite easily. It had been so long yet even the trailers were in the same places. Up ahead, she spotted a familiar rundown trailer, the home of the Jones family. Betty remembered how often she used to come here to see Jughead and FP. 

FP Jones, Jughead’s father, had always been kind to her and she felt a twinge of guilt for the way she had left without telling him.

A loud clanging noise from behind the trailer made her jump. So someone was home. Slowly, Betty walked around the trailer to see a man in a white tank top and jeans bent over a motorcycle, working on something. The muscles in his toned arms tightened as he screwed on a part. His long, grease-stained fingers worked nimbly. 

She drew in a sharp breath, realizing who it was. She was just about to leave when the man turned around and saw her standing there.

“Good morning, Betty,” Jughead greeted, obviously surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Is that old Bess?” Betty pointed at the motorcycle. Old Bess had been Jughead’s Honda CB550 that he rode during high school.

“Sure is,” Jughead said, giving it a pat. “Just thought I’d fix her up before I went back home.”

“You don’t live in Riverdale anymore?” This was new. But not unexpected.

Jughead shook his head.

“No. After I quit the Serpents, I went to college. I got my major in Creative Writing. Moved out of Riverdale.” 

“You quit the Serpents?” Betty was shocked. Jughead used to talk so much about how the Serpents had been the family he’d never had and how he wanted to live up to their standards. He used to idolize them.

“Yeah. I couldn’t see a future for myself with them.”

Betty was quiet. She regarded the motorcycle, longing to feel the wind in her hair and the ecstatic feeling she used to experience when she was young and carefree.

“I was going to take old Bess out later for a ride,” Jughead said suddenly. “Do you want to come with me?”

Betty tore her eyes away from the beautiful bike and looked at Jughead, startled. It was as if he had read her mind. She would refuse politely and walk away if she knew what was good for herself, Betty thought. But this was Jughead. She had never been able to refuse him. And besides, what harm would a bike ride do?

Jughead was looking at her expectantly. The long extinguished flame within her caught a spark. A slow smile spread across her face.

“I’d love that.”

Betty entered the Pembrooke warily, so as to not disturb its sleeping inhabitants.

But Veronica was wide awake, sitting at the coffee table and reading the newspaper. Her glasses were perched on the tip of her nose and she was nursing a mug of coffee. The sound of Betty entering made her look up.

“Good morning, Betty,” Veronica said, smiling. “Out for a morning run?”

“Yeah. Just thought I’d get a quick jog in,” Betty replied, sitting down at the table.

“Where’s Sweet Pea?”

“Pea’s at the gym. He should be back soon,” Veronica answered, taking a sip from her mug. 

Just as the words left her mouth, the front door opened again and this time Sweet Pea entered, sweaty but fresh. He smiled at the two women, greeting both.

Veronica stood up and kissed him. He went to wrap his arm around her but she pulled away, stepping back. 

“Not while you’re sweaty, babe,” she said. “Go shower.”

He dropped a kiss on her nose and chuckled. 

“Whatever you want.”

“Hey, Betty, do you have any plans today?” Veronica asked.

“Um, yeah actually. I’m going out,” she said, hesitantly. “With Jughead.”

Veronica almost dropped her mug. Sweet Pea stopped in his tracks.

“Jughead’s back in town!?” he asked incredulously. “He didn’t even call.”

Veronica’s eyebrows looked like they were going to fly off her forehead.

“Betty, you’re going out with Jughead? As in Jughead Jones? The same boy you went out with in high school? Where did you meet Jughead?”

“At the cemetery, yesterday.”

“Oh my god,” Sweet Pea said, shaking his head. “I am going to kill him for not telling me he’s back,”

“Well, where are you guys going?” Veronica proceeded, ignoring Sweet Pea.

“Just on a motorcycle ride. He wanted to exercise old Bess and asked me to come with.” Betty shrugged like it was no big deal. “I said okay.”

Veronica was staring at her, jaw open and stunned.

“Oh my god, Veronica. Relax. It’s just a bike ride. We aren’t going to do anything stupid,” Betty laughed. “Besides, he’s married.”

“Married? But I thought-“ Sweet Pea started to say but Veronica cut him off.

“That’s great, Betty. I hope you have fun.” The smile on Veronica’s face was an attempt at genuineness, but it wasn’t quite there.

Betty smiled at them. As happy as they appeared for her, she didn’t miss the knowing glance that passed between them.

An hour later, Betty was back at Sunnyside, a backpack on her back and a hat on her head. She was dressed in a simple white crop top and jeans. A denim jacket hung off her shoulders. Without even realizing it, she had put her hair back into a ponytail. 

The sound of an engine roaring made a thrill go through her and a helmet-clad Jughead rode out on old Bess, now shiny and gleaming. He had changed his outfit, now in a dark t-shirt and jeans, as well as a Sherpa jacket.

Stopping the motorcycle next to Betty, he handed her a second helmet. She traced the small crown symbol carved onto its front. Her old helmet.

“Ready?” Jughead asked, smirking.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Betty answered, trying to contain her excitement.

Fastening the straps of the helmet, Betty climbed onto the motorcycle behind Jughead, her arms automatically wrapping themselves around his waist. The contact made him freeze for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he revved the engine, making it roar. And just like that, they were off.

Betty grinned as they cruised down the empty road, the wind slapping their faces. Jughead rode fast, and it caused a rush of adrenaline which Betty felt all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. She laughed, thrilled to be on a motorcycle again. In the side view mirror, she saw Jughead smile. 

They rode past the town, and were soon out on the open road. Farms and fields flew past them, all a green and yellow blur. 

“Where are we going?” Betty yelled over the roar of the wind.

“You’ll see!” Jughead yelled back, and sped up.

Betty tightened her grip on Jughead, her hands tucked against his stomach. She could feel the hard planes of his abdomen underneath her palms. Her mind started to drift, imagining what it must look like, underneath the layers. 

Horrified at herself, Betty pulled her arms away, afraid of her own thoughts. Jughead turned sideways.

“Don’t let go! You’ll fall!”

Tentatively, Betty put her arms around his torso. 

No dirty thoughts, she scolded herself.

Jughead turned onto a narrower road leading straight into the woods. The trees grew denser and wild animals ran around, unafraid of them. 

They pulled up to a clearing and Jughead turned off the engine. Handing her helmet to Jughead, Betty looked around. 

They were in a small opening where the woods met Sweetwater River. It wasn’t a place that Betty had ever come in all the years she had lived in Riverdale. She reached the edge of the river, where the water lapped up against the gravelly banks.

A splash caused Betty to jump. She looked and saw that Jughead had taken off his shoes and socks and waded into the river, his jeans rolled up to his knees.

“Come on in!” he yelled to her.

Betty looked at the river. Who knows what creatures lurked in those waters? But on the other hand, she’d been swimming in Sweetwater River before and it had always been safe. Besides, Jughead wouldn’t take her anywhere she would be in danger of getting injured, right?

Screw it, Betty thought, pulling off her own shoes. Grinning she rolled up her own jeans and ran into the river.

The water was cool and pleasant. She felt sixteen again, laughing and splashing in the river. They waded upstream and came to a small thicket where berries grew ripe on the bushes.

Jughead plucked a berry and tossed it into his mouth, smacking his lips.

“Here,” he said tossing her one.

“Are you sure these are safe to eat?” Betty questioned, eyeing the berry.

“Betty Cooper, do you question my wilderness knowledge?” He feigned hurt.

“Considering that everything you ever ate was either Chinese takeout or one of Pop’s burgers, don’t feel offended if I say yes,” Betty retorted, grinning wickedly.

“You have me there,” Jughead admitted.

But nevertheless, she popped it into her mouth.

They walked along the river bank, skipping stones and splashing each other. Betty realized how much she had missed this, the running wild and goofing around.

After a while, they sat down on a blanket that Jughead spread out and ate the sandwiches which he had packed. The surroundings were quiet, except for the hushed rustling of leaves in the wind. 

“So,” Jughead said, dusting crumbs off of his jeans. “You left in a bit of a rush yesterday. No one waiting for you today?”

Betty flushed, ashamed of her actions from the previous day.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to seem rude.”

“Well, you can make it up to me now. Where have you been the past ten years?” Jughead leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out in front. 

“Here and there,” Betty answered. “I moved around a lot. Washington, Boston, and I recently moved to New York.”

“New York?” Jughead looked confused. “When?”

“About three weeks ago,” Betty replied. “I got a job as editor of the New York Times.”

Jughead’s eyes widened. 

“The New York Times?! Congratulations, Betty. That’s huge.”

“Thanks. What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Writing,” Jughead said. “I finally published my novel. And a few other books. Nothing too big.”

“You did? That’s fantastic, Jug. I’ll have to check it out once I get back home.” 

Jughead looked like he was going to say something but hesitated and then shook his head.

“Sure.” Was his only reply.

A silence grew and it made Betty nervous. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject.

“I didn’t know Veronica and Sweet Pea were a thing. Kinda surprising.”

“I know. It was a bit of a shock when we all first found out. Toni went ballistic,”Jughead laughed, recalling the memory. “Their wedding was fantastic though. Silk handkerchiefs, a ten-tier cake, the works. Made me feel poorer than usual.”

Betty shook her head, smiling. Casually, she pointed to Jughead’s hand.

“So you got married too, huh?” She tried to keep her tone light.

Jughead looked down at his hand and saw the ring.

“Oh, um, yeah,” he replied. “I was married. For three months. We got an annulment about a month ago.”

“Oh,” Betty said, trying to contain her curiosity. “What was her name?”

He didn’t say anything. At once, Betty felt embarrassed. It wasn’t any of her business.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be intrusive or pry-“

“Sabrina,” Jughead spoke suddenly. “Sabrina Spellman. She was a city girl. Called herself a psychic. We went to the same college.”

“What happened between you two?” Betty pushed carefully.

He pulled up his knees and rested his elbows on them. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead, his gaze was on the horizon.

“We dated for a while. She was a wild and fun-loving girl. I was a stay-at-home-and-binge-Netflix kind of guy. I was with her because I had convinced myself that I loved her. I was trying to put the past behind me. But this one weekend, we went to Vegas with a bunch of our friends. There was some drinking although almost none on my part. She said that she wanted to get married. So in the spur of the moment, we went down to the chapel and got married. But it didn’t work out.” 

“Why not?” Her heart was pounding.

“Because,” Jughead said, finally looking at Betty. “I was still in love with someone else.”

Suddenly, it became hard to hold Jughead’s gaze and Betty looked down at her hands in her lap. Her cheeks grew warm as she fought the urge to scream. This. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. The second wave hit and Betty felt her head go underwater. She was fighting against the current but it was useless. The dark water pulled her deeper and deeper. A vague realization that she was drowning. And there was no one to save her.

An uncomfortable presence settled in the air between them and Betty concentrated on the faded scars on her palms. Ten crescent moons in a line. Her way to regain control. She fought the urge to dig her fingernails into the skin, to find the relief. 

“Why, Betty? Why did you leave?” His voice was soft.

Betty felt her throat block up and her eyes well up with tears. It wasn’t fair of him to ask that. He hadn’t known what she had been going through. She didn’t want to hurt him more than she already had.

She peeked up and saw him watching her, a forlorn look in his eyes.

“Please, Betty. I need to know.”

“You know why,” Betty said, choking up. It was hard to speak and she was on the verge of crying.

“No, I don’t. You left without a word to anyone, not even your mother. No one could find you or figure out why you left. But I have to know.”

“I- I didn’t want to hurt you,” Betty said, wiping her runny nose. Her throat had closed up and she couldn’t swallow.

“Betty, you hurt me by leaving me with no explanation.” Jughead was looking at her, desperate for an answer. “It’s been ten years and I still don’t have any closure. Please, Betty.”

“I didn’t want to cause anyone more pain. I didn’t want my family to have to deal with the repercussions of my actions.  I- I didn’t want to f- fail you, again,” she said, trying her best to not cry.

“Fail me?” Jughead looked bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“The miscarriage, Jughead. I mean the miscarriage.”

Wow. I can’t believe I actually finished that part. And I know a lot of people are going to bash me for ending it like that. Well, I have some bad news. The next chapter won’t be out until the week after next because I have finals. I wish I could just write and write and write all day, but unfortunately, I can’t.

But fear not, I JUST MAY post a coda/flashback part next week because I’m a sucker for writing. Once again, I can’t be sure if I will be able to do that. 

But anyways, I enjoyed getting all your wonderful reviews and am so freaking grateful that so many of you enjoyed the first part. Thank you all so much. I love you to pieces.

XOXO

Rhea

[protego-et-servio]

This is a long article, but I really urge people to read it. Disability, lack of affordable healthcare, poverty; it spells early death for a lot of people, especially when they all converge.

On the 597th day, the day he hoped everything would change, Joe Stewart woke early. He took 15 pills in a single swallow.

Neurontin for nerve pain. Baclofen for muscle spasms. Trazodone for depression. Hydroxyzine and Buspirone for anxiety, a condition that seemed to worsen each day his wait stretched into the next.

Stewart had first applied for federal disability benefits on May 21, 2015. The application was denied, and so was his appeal. When he appealed the second rejection, he went to the back of one of the federal government’s biggest backlogs, where 1.1 million disability claimants wait for one of some 1,600 Social Security administrative law judges to decide whether they deserve a monthly payment and Medicare or Medicaid. “A death sentence” is how Stewart, who has no health insurance, has come to think of another denial.

In the past two years, 18,701 people have died while waiting for a judge’s decision, increasing 15 percent from 8,699 deaths in fiscal 2016 to 10,002 deaths in fiscal 2017, according to preliminary federal data obtained by The Washington Post. The rising death toll coincides with a surge in the length of time people must wait for a disposition, which swelled from a national average of 353 days in 2012 to a record high of 596 this past summer.

“I know that people will die waiting,” said Marilyn Zahm, president of the Association of Administrative Law Judges. “This is the reflection of our priorities as an American people. We have decided it’s better for people to die than to adequately fund this program. . . . Will this get worse? Will the number of people who die double?”

People will die. And the American people don’t care or there’s “more important” things to care for, other than the health of disabled people. 

But vinyl siding was what [Stewart] loved completely. Cutting the metal. Measuring it out. Hauling it in his truck and completing a job worth being proud of, worth attaching his name to, and that was a promise he made to every customer after opening his company, Premium Siding, 10 years ago.

So already carrying two decades of work injuries — falling off ladders, getting shocked by hot wires — he would sometimes go to a community clinic that charged $35 per visit. Or more likely, he’d use a heating pad and try to think about anything but pain, until one day in the summer of 2013, when pain became nearly the only thing he could ever think about.

Rather than pay $35 - or, better yet, he didn’t have the money - Stewart would suffer with a heating pad and try to “tough out” his pains. Too many people do this today, due to financial reasons and lack of healthcare. (And a good portion of people talk themselves out of going to the doctor because that’s what they and their family has always done; because “it’s not that bad.”)

He remembers reaching for something that had barely weighed anything. He remembers the sharp, immediate pain, the sudden realization that his back might never be the same, and that, for everything he would ultimately lose, he had never even touched whatever it was he had reached for. The doctor would later say he had a compressed vertebra and a pinched nerve in his lower spine.

The pills made him drowsy, and he went to the only place he could still sit. The Ab Lounge, an exercise chair he had bought to strengthen his lower back but now used because it could recline just so, was where he conducted his affairs. 

A piece of exercise equipment is all he can sit on, due to the pain.

He had promised himself that if he was denied again, he’d no longer accept his mother’s help. He’d let his pills run out, and his trailer go dark, and start drinking again. So much in his life depended on others now, from the television his brother had helped pay for, to the groceries delivered by his mother, who also took him wherever he needed to go, including on this morning to see his lawyer before his Social Security disability hearing.

[Applicants] could say something to a judge that would be innocuous in other circumstances — that they could drive, or mow grass — but could lead to a quick denial, which had been happening more often, as the disability approval rate among judges nationwide dropped from 73 percent in 2008 to 55 percent last year.

This is partly why I haven’t applied for disability yet. My multiple sclerosis - a disease that targets my brain and spine, basically eating away and leaving behind scar tissue lesions - isn’t bad enough to keep me from driving or doing chores or working my at-home job.

However, I am extremely lucky. That’s it. There are so, so many people who need disability and can’t get it, or just can’t go through the stress, that are suffering without it.

And he tried to look at the judge, to express with his eyes what he couldn’t with words, but the judge wasn’t in the room at all. He was sitting in front of a camera in another courtroom 65 miles away in another Social Security Administration building in Tupelo, part of a government policy to work down the backlog by holding some disability hearings by videoconference. Stewart heard the disembodied voice of someone whom Gibson called a “vocational expert,” whose role it was to use, among other sources, the government’s list of possible jobs, the Dictionary of Occupational Titles, last updated in 1991, to discern whether there was any work someone like him could do anywhere in the United States, regardless of pay, distance from his house, or whether he would be hired.

It doesn’t matter if he has no chance in hell of getting the job, if he’s “capable” of it, he’ll possibly be denied. 

“So we’ll wait and see. . . . You might not get a decision until February.” And: “It may be six months.”

Six more months, on top of nearly 600 days of waiting!

And Stewart, now caught in another backlog of people awaiting a disposition after the hearing — which has doubled in the last year, from 35,000 claimants to 70,000 — 

The 597th day was over, and the only thing left to do was to wait for the 598th to begin.

[ghostsinthewoods]

Chapter Five: Burnt Out

(DISCLAIMER: The writer of the fan fiction (Or, 'Fan Fic') has never indulged in the use of cannabis. As such, any depictions of drug use should be taken with a grain of salt. The author has done research, but it kind of a big sheltered dummy who doesn't know how bongs work.)

Mae had begun to recline on the couch in Dr. Feldman's office. The sun was peeking in through the window's shutters, creating little bars of light on the floor. Mae had been in the office long enough to see the bars shift and move a bit.

"So, anyway, the next day, I woke up at, like, four or five," Mae said. "For breakfast, I had, like, some sort of bagel thing. My mom was reading a book about this dude who ate his own legs."

"Mae," Dr. Feldman said, "I feel like you're giving me way too many details. Are you trying to avoid telling me what happened when you smoked weed?"

Mae frowned. "If I just jump right into what happened, you might get confused. I'm, like, building up to it."

"You spent five minutes describing what happened when you drank your first beer," Dr. Feldman said. "You've been talking for forty minutes. And, while I'm glad you're opening up to me, I'm not sure why you kept adding all of that foreshadowing about your senior prom."

Ugh. Some people had no appreciation for good storytelling.

"Fine," Mae said. "So, like an hour later, Gregg and I went out to the Food Donkey…"

"… And he ate the whole thing! Like, right there in the store!"

Gregg was grinning like a madman as he recounted his work day to Mae. The hike out to the old Food Donkey hadn't taken too long. Time with Gregg seemed to go by fast like that. It was weird. Before too long, they were outside the former heart of hometown.

Mae always felt sad when she was here. It seemed like just yesterday that the Food Donkey had been buzzing with shoppers and jaded teens. Now, it was just a big, dead thing in the middle of a big, black parking lot.

"I can't believe they make you come into work on Sunday," Mae said.

"They don't make me come in, dude," Gregg pointed out. "I choose to. I need the hours. Plus, Sundays are usually pretty slow. Most folks are, like, at church."

"That means us dirty heathens get all the snacks to ourselves," Mae joked.

The two continued walking. Past the basketball court, around the Food Donkey, and just in front of the old train tracks. The back of the Food Donkey was covered in graffiti of various sorts. Mae recognized some that said 'NUKE POSSUM SPRINGS.'

"Shit," Mae said. "The back somehow smells more like glue than the inside."

"I think a lot of, like, drifters and crusties do drugs back here," Gregg said. "So, like, don't step on a needle or anything."

"Should be fine," Mae said. "I'm wearing boots."

A noise drew their attention to a pair of old, abandoned dumpsters behind the old, abandoned Food Donkey. A thin figure stepped out from behind one of the dumpsters, clad in a dirty, green hoodie.

Whoever it was, they'd apparently heard Mae and Gregg approaching. However, when they saw them, they calmed down and waved. Mae didn't quite understand why they were waving.

However, when Gregg waved back, Mae realized she simply hadn't recognized him.

It was Levy. It had only been two years, but it looked like Levy had aged ten. The dude looked like a trailer park smelled. Somehow, as Mae and Gregg got closer, the smell of glue intensified.

"Hey, Craig," Levy said. He was holding what looked like a cigarette in his right hand. It took Mae a moment to realize it was actually a joint. Mae had never smelled weed before. It smelled gross.

"It's Gregg," Gregg said quickly. He pointed towards Mae. "Do you remember Mae Borowski?"

Levy seemed to take the question into serious consideration. His face twitched a bit, and he lifted the joint to his lips. "Nah, dude," he said. "Sorry."

"I was friends with Casey Hartley," Mae offered. "Plus, I'm pretty sure you and me had homeroom together in junior year."

Levy blinked uncomprehendingly. "Not ringing any bells, man," he said.

Okay, this was getting a little annoying. Had he, like, fried all of the brain cells that contained memories about Mae? That was how brain cells worked, right?

"I put a kid in the hospital," Mae said. She didn't like that she had to dig this out to get him to recognize her. "Remember? Everyone called me Killer behind my back after that."

For a second, Levy's eyes seemed to light up. Sort of. It was a dull, hazy light, but a light nonetheless. After a second, however, the light faded. "No, sorry. I was, like, in and out of it for most of my teen years."

Mae just about threw up her hands in frustration. What was the point of making amends with someone who didn't even recognize you? To her relief, however, Gregg once again came to her rescue. Sort of.

"Remember the kid who puked on their date at senior prom?" He asked.

Once again, Levy's eyes lit up. This time, the realization stayed. "Oh, shit, yeah! That was sick, dude. I mean, I wasn't there when it happened, but you know… I think I heard about it once."

"Okay, you remembered something you weren't actually there for, but you didn't remember the times we actually met?" Mae asked. Levy simply shrugged.

This was getting to be a headache, and Mae hadn't gotten to the making amends part. Ugh. Maybe this whole thing was a huge mistake.

No. No, it was do or die time. If Mae got some closure, maybe everything would stop feeling awful.

"Hey, look," Mae said while Levy puffed on his joint. Her head was feeling a little buzzy. "Levy, I've got something I need to tell you—"

"Are you a cop?" Levy asked suddenly. Mae could only blink in surprise.

"Uh, what?"

"Are you a cop?" Levy asked. "You have to tell me if you're a cop."

"My aunt told me that's not actually true," Mae said. "So, like, the cops can lie about whatever they want. They probably do lie, too."

Levy frowned. "I dunno, man. I read about it online. I trust the internet more than some aunt I've never met."

Something about that comment made Mae's chest hurt. She swallowed the sensation, though. This whole thing was going off the rails. She needed to just clear the air, like, ASAP.

"Okay," Mae said, "so I wanted to apologize for something. Do you remember the party we had in senior year? Up by Possum Leap?"

Levy seemed to be barely paying attention to the conversation. He looked like he was staring right through Mae. The stink of his joint was starting to get to Mae. Gregg stood to Mae's side, his eyes darting back and forth between Mae and Levy.

"Well, during the party," Mae said slowly. "I was in Casey's pickup truck, and you and Beth Holstead were doing it in the back of the truck, and I accidentally hit the parking brake and then you both fell in a creek and everyone saw your butt."

Mae said all of that without taking a breath. When she was done, no one spoke. The atmosphere was tense, and somehow hard to discern. Levy blinked once or twice. His expression didn't change, though he had removed his joint from his lips.

"So, uh… yeah," Mae said. "I really, really wanted to apologize for that."

There was another moment of silence. Mae tried to read Levy's expression, but she couldn't make anything out. At most, he looked kinda sleepy. Mae almost would have liked it better if he'd been fuming and screaming.

Finally, Levy ended the awkward silence and spoke.

"'Kay," Levy said.

For a moment, Mae thought she might have heard wrong. She looked over to Gregg, who simply shrugged in response.

"That's it?" She asked, as if Levy was holding out on her.

The burn out just gave a noncommittal shrug, however, and placed his joint between his lips. "I dunno what else to tell you, man. That party was, like, two years ago. I don't really sweat stuff like that."

That was surprising. What kind of person didn't get hung up over being in a creek with their butt in the air? Well, okay, some people were probably super into that. Levy didn't seem like one of those people. He didn't seem like he was super into anything except, like, sniffing glue.

"Didn't you and Beth break up because of that?" Gregg asked. He didn't seem nearly as confused as Mae about this whole mess.

Levy groaned. "No, dude. We broke up because she cheated on me with Effing Steve Scriggins."

Okay, that at least made sense. Well, not the fact that someone would go for Scriggins, but the fact that Scriggins had ruined something. Judging by the vitriol in Levy's normally mellow voice, it sounded like he and Steve weren't close anymore.

"Well," Gregg said. "I guess that's taken care of."

"Uh, yeah," Mae said. "Well, uh… glad to see you're not upset or anything."

And that was that. Mae figured that she and Gregg would turn, go to the diner, and then go home for the night. The amends had been made. The apology had been done. But then Levy surprised Mae by pulling something out of his pocket.

"Hey, so, I appreciate the apology either way," he said as he offered the object to Mae. "So, you know, you can have this. I've got more back home, and my brother's hooking me up with more later this week."

Mae looked at the tiny wad of paper in Levy's hand uncomprehendingly. She didn't understand what it was at first. When she compared it to Levy's joint, however, she realized what was going on.

"Oh, shit," Mae said. She was being peer pressured. Her mind flashed back to all of the videos about substance abuse they'd watched in health class. This one kid did weed, and then he somehow got eaten by a lion. It was terrifying. She still had nightmares about those videos.

Mae shot a look at Gregg, who had a stupid, mischievous little grin on his face. Apparently, this whole thing was hilarious to him.

"Dude, no," Mae said. "Look, Levy, I don't wanna kill any more of my brain cells."

Levy blinked. "Dude, I'm not asking you to sniff glue. It's just weed. It's, like, harmless."

"What if I get addicted?" Mae asked. "Or, what if I OD?"

Gregg laughed. "Wow, Mae. You need to read up on some stuff," he said.

Levy was beginning to snicker too. Okay, this wasn't funny. Out of the three people in this big, empty parking lot, two of them were laughing at Mae. And one of them was her, do that didn't really work. Whatever.

Mae thought for a second. Gregg said he and Angus had tried weed out, right? And they seemed fine. Well, as fine as usual. On top of that, Mae was almost certain that whatever had aged Levy in the two years she'd been gone, it wasn't weed.

But okay. If these two dinguses were gonna have a chuckle over this, then Mae would give 'em something to chuckle about. She'd make them chuckle real good.

She was gonna weed it up.

And so, Mae smoked a bunch of weed.

Gregg sat off next to one of the dumpsters while he watched Mae light up her joint. It took her a few tries, but eventually she was doing drugs. She felt so mature. Like some cool alt rock girl. Yeah.

Levy had offered Gregg a joint, but he politely decline. Mae was actually kind of impressed. He really was trying to avoid any crimes. Well, mostly. But, still, Gregg was all mature now.

Again, mostly.

Also, the weed he and Angus had smoked last time had been bad. Real bad.

She, Gregg, and Levy sat up against the wall of the Food Donkey. The whole place smelled like glue and weed. It was gross. Mae eventually didn't mind though. Her whole body felt tingly. She felt good.

The three sat in silence for a bit. Three nerds, two joints, lots of garbage.

"So, like," Levy said after a moment. "What made you wanna come outta nowhere and apologize at me?"

Mae laughed. She didn't know why. She just did. "I've got a lot going on in my head," she said. "Like, me and Gregg went through a lotta shit last year."

Gregg blinked. "Um," he said. "Mae, maybe don't talk about the weird shit with Levy."

"Aw, what?" Mae asked. "Levy and me are pals now. We're buds."

"I still don't really know you that well, dude," Levy said. "I mean, you were friends with Casey, right? Me and him hung out before he went missing."

Even if she was starting to feel the weed, the mention of Casey made Mae feel bad. Real bad. She almost wanted to cry. She missed him. A lot. And his stupid dream ghost wouldn't leave her alone.

"Okay, Mae, you've got serious mental issues. Taking mind altering drugs probably wasn't a good idea."

Levy continued speaking. He seemed to be pretending that he hadn't heard the imaginary voice of Casey's dream ghost. "Yeah, he'd been, like, hanging with his cousin, and…" He stopped. "Well, whatever. His cousin was cool. Shame what happened to him."

Mae vaguely remembered something she'd heard last year. Something about Casey's cousin. It was something she hadn't wanted to be true. But, if it was true, it would explain why he'd been hanging with Levy.

No. It wasn't true. Casey had been a troublemaker, but he hadn't been a criminal. Right? Right. Doubting her dead friend wouldn't do Mae any good. It would do Mae the opposite of good.

Ugh. This was garbage.

"So, like…" Mae said slowly. "What do we do? Are we supposed to do something while we're high?"

Levy laughed. "Nah, man. You just chill. Or, like, watch shitty movies. The drugs in and of themselves are the activity."

"No offense, Levy," Mae said. "But that sounds really boring. Is this all you do all day? Just, like, sit around and be drugs?" Mae smacked her lips and leaned against the wall. The sky looked really, really real.

"Yeah," Levy mumbled. He blinked. For some reason, it took him a long time to do it. Which was weird, because things seemed, like, the opposite of slow. Mae could feel her heartbeat all through her body.

"You doing okay, Mae?" A voice asked. It was Gregg. Gregg was talking. GUH-REH-GUH. The man of many G's. The snack knife crime boy.

It was incredible. Gregg looked so real. Like he was right next to Mae. She reached out and rubbed her hand on his face.

"Dude, no," Gregg said. He gently took Mae's hand and pushed it away from his face. Her arm moving felt weird. Lots of stuff felt weird.

Everything was weird and stupid and beautiful. Mae just wanted to hug everyone. If only her heart wasn't beating so fast. Fast. FAS-TUH.

Too fast. So fast. Oh cripes. Oh cripes in heaven, she was going to die. Her heart was going to exploded out of her chest and she'd be eaten by a lion. Mae took in sharp, intense breaths, trying to calm herself down.

"Dude," Levy said. "Dude, chill."

Chill? How could Mae chill? Her thoughts were racing. She was going to die. Probably. Maybe. Maybe she was already dead? Oh god. What if she died that night in the woods, when they had first found the cultists? What if she hadn't woken up from her coma?

But she must have woken up. She'd been awake this whole time. She'd seen life stretch on after that night in the mines. After the cave in. After she'd lead her friends into danger and made them bury a bunch of dudes.

Oh god. Oh, God. They were dead. They were all dead. And she'd killed them. Or, at least, been complicit in killing them.

And one of them was

"I killed my aunt," Mae whispered.

Silence fell over the three of them. Mae turned towards Gregg, and saw him staring at Mae, his mouth hanging open. "Dude," he whispered.

Mae turned towards Levy and saw he was simply confused. Heh. Poor guy didn't know nothing about cults.

Levy looked at the joint Mae was holding in her fingers, and then back at her. "Jeez," he muttered. "Must've given you some bad shit. Sorry, dude."

Mae laughed. That was good Levy's obliviousness was cheering her up. They weren't talking about Casey, who was dead and also a spooky phantom. Also, the whole 'murdering cultists' thing was kinda funny now! Kinda really funny!

"Yeah, I killed the death outta her," Mae laughed. "Her and, like, twelve other guys. You know all the missing person posters been going up? That's me. That's us. They aren't missing, man. We, could, like, go find them."

"Dude, Mae, stop," Gregg said. "We've talked about this."

"My parents put up posters, Gregg!" Mae felt herself just blurt the words out. A sad, bitter laugh escaped her. "My mom organized, like, my entire extended family to try and find Aunt Molly!

"And I had to sit back and watch the whole thing!" Mae laughed again. The smoke from their joints was stinging her eyes. That must have been why she had to blink back her tears. "I couldn't say, 'Oh, hey, she died with a bunch of creepy cultists!'"

Mae could still remember when she'd realized Aunt Molly had gone missing. It was a week after the incident in the mines. Aunt Molly hadn't contacted mom or dad. She hadn't bumped into Mae and given her an earful. But it wasn't until one of the other cops had asked about her that reality sunk in.

In hindsight, it was obvious. She'd been way too dismissive about Mae's story about the kidnapper. In fact, she'd almost seemed to be actively trying to make Mae doubt her own story.

There had been no love lost between the two of them. But, even then, Mae didn't want to believe it.

Not that she had much of a choice.

Levy looked from Mae, to Gregg, to Mae again. Even if he was stoned, he seemed to be able to read the mood. He snubbed his joint out against the blacktop ground and put his hands in his pockets.

"Okay," he said, "I'm not gonna pretend I can wrap my head around any of that, but it sounds like you've got a lot of pent up shit, Mae."

"Dude," Gregg whispered. "Levy, don't tell anyone about what Mae just said."

Levy laughed at that. "Man, who am I gonna tell? No one takes people like me seriously. Besides, there's a good chance you're both high. Between the glue and the weed, anyone'd say crazy shit."

Gregg nodded. Mae, unfortunately, continued talking.

"I can never tell them," she mumbled. "We can never tell anyone, Gregg. Not even Levy."

"We can talk about this later, Mae," Gregg said. "For now, I think we should go. You can chill at my apartment until you come down from your high."

Mae nodded at that. She passed her joint to Levy—actually, she just sort of dropped it onto his pants leg—and got up to her feet. Everything felt very, very wobbly. The whole world, even.

When she began to stumble, Gregg was there to put an arm around her shoulder.

Levy waved goodbye to the two as they began to walk away. Gregg and Mae walked out across the seemingly infinite black of the parking lot and made their way back to the safety of home.

Mae hadn't told Dr. Feldman everything. She hadn't told him about what she'd said to Levy. She hadn't told him about her panic attack. She'd told him about some weird thoughts she'd had—mostly about brownies, pierogis, and the Swamp Husband DVD.

From the look on his face, though, Feldman knew she was leaving something out. He didn't press her for more info, though. That was good. Mae liked that.

"So, I take it that you didn't love the experience," he said.

"I wouldn't do it again," Mae muttered. "Plus, I wound up eating, like, all of Gregg's chips. And a whole thing of microwave ramen. Without microwaving it."

"Yep, weed'll do that," Feldman said. He marked something down in his notes once again.

"Well, that was… an interesting second session," he said. "I'll see you next month. Maybe next time, we could talk about your… other issues?"

Mae winced. Right. The softball thing. The shapes. She guessed she'd have to get around to talking about that eventually. And maybe Dr. Feldman could, like, hypnotize her into not being nuts. Because Mae probably needed that right now.

More and more things were falling out of focus, and Mae didn't know what to do.

[waitinginthedarke]

Sometimes Rain Falls

A BTS Fanfiction

Type: AU/Alternative Universe

Summary: Sometimes a normal life is a good one to lead; its nice…its easy… But sometimes, normal isn’t the way that things were meant to be. And when you’re chosen as a possible candidate for one of the kingdom’s 7 princes, life isn’t as nice and easy as you always presumed it to be…especially when you catch the eye of more than one of them…

A/N: I will update the masterlist later, when i get back from work! :)

Trailer

Masterlist

Part 6

It was the same dank, dark corridor as before, only this time instead of feeling a hand holding yours tightly and reassuringly, you were alone, panting as you hurry down the corridor to the door at the end, the only thought in your mind being that you needed to know what was behind it.

‘Princess!’

You knew that voice.

The way the word echoes around the tunnel has you pausing to look behind you, the sight of Hoseok emerging from the darkness, an expression of barely concealed panic on his face, causing your footsteps to falter, stopping you in your determination to get to the door.

‘Hobi….what are you doing here?’

You don’t recognise your own voice when the question is asked, simply staring at the face of your Prince as you frantically try to work out why he was down there, the tiny fragments of thought that had brought you there in the first place hardly creating a solid map of understanding in your head as it was.

‘Princess, don’t-‘

‘Y/N!’

You jump when you feel a hand suddenly grab your own, snapping your head to see who it was, but seeing the world turn to slow motion as the brick wall begins to slowly pass before your eyes, the sandstone turning grey… …the grey brick turning to charcoal… …and the charcoal turning to-

‘Taehyung?’

You come to in your bed, starting upright as the name falls as a breath from your lips, and almost jumping out of your skin when you suddenly feel a firm grip on your shoulder, Hoseok’s face appearing in front of you to replace the black eyes from before, stopping you before you could scream.

‘Jagi, its me! You’re okay…you just fainted-‘

‘What happened? I-‘

‘I don’t know. I’d just stepped outside to talk to Jimin, but I heard a crash and then when I came in, you had collapsed on the floor. Jagi, are you okay-‘

‘No, I mean what happened to the Princess?’ you insist, holding tightly to his hand that had found its way into yours and staring at him desperately for answers, the last memory you have in your mind of the girl floating in the water taking the entirety of your attention.

‘Jagi,…what Princess?’

You stare at him.

‘What do you mean ‘what princess’…Taehyung’s Princess! The one in the fountain!...The one-‘

‘Jagi,…what are you talking about? Taehyung’s Princess is fine.’

You recoil from the confused and concerned expression coating his face as he stared at you, the cogs in your brain working double time as you take a minute to re-orientate yourself with the room you were in, realising for the first time since opening your eyes that Jimin was stood on one side of the room, and that beside him, streaming through the windows…was morning light.

‘How long was I unconscious?’ you ask quietly, beginning to feel slightly self-conscious as your eyes flit from Jimin to Hoseok to your hands in your lap, your fingers beginning to loosen on Hoseok’s hand in your embarrassed confusion, but not before he could clasp them with his own, raising his other hand to cup your face.

‘You’ve been asleep for a few hours, Jagi. The physician said to just let you rest, that you might have hit your head on something… I was worried-‘

‘Why were you talking to Jimin?’ you ask suddenly, holding onto the last thread of hope that what you’d seen hadn’t just been a dream, and staring intently at Hoseok as you wait for him to explain, disregarding what he’d been saying and watching as his eyes dance between yours as he appears to think of what he was going to say.

‘We were- ….He just wanted to ask if we’d like to go to lunch with Leehi and himself tomorrow-…well, today…I was going to ask-‘

‘Oh.’

There is silence for a moment as you feel your fighting energy leave you, your eyes drifting to the window despite the fact that you couldn’t see the fountain from where you were sat in bed, the images floating round your head of the girl, Namjoon, Taehyung, Hoseok in the dream and before you now, making you close your eyes as you try to get your mind in order.

‘Jagi, do you want me to call the doctor back? You seem a little confused.’

Was he lying to you?

You could see it so vividly in your mind; the instant you’d recognized the face of Taehyung’s princess in the fountain… the way the fabric of her dress had been floating so effortlessly in the water…the way Namjoon had turned to look up at you, his eyes meeting yours definitively…

But you couldn’t remember anything after that.

Even as you opened your eyes, taking in the worried look that Hoseok was gazing at you with, and seeing an equally as worried look given to you by Jimin— although there was also an edge of suspense built into the tightening at the edges of his eyes— you can only remember a haze of blackness swimming around your mind, the moments between locking eyes with Namjoon, and waking up in bed being utterly non-existent-

With the exception of the dream…

‘Jimin, get the ahjumma to call the doctor…I’m not sure-‘

‘No.’ you cut him off, slowly raising your gaze distractedly to his, before sighing and leaning forward to prop your forehead on his shoulder.

‘I’m fine…I think I just need food, or something.’ You continue with a half-hearted chuckle, closing your eyes when you feel his arms wrap around you and pull you into him, the touch of his lips against your hair causing warmth to build in your chest as you burrow into him.

‘Are you sure? I can always-‘

‘Honestly…I’m fine. Just a little shaken up from my dream I guess…God, I feel so stupid.’ You mutter, feeling Hoseok’s arms tighten around you and burying your face into his neck as he murmurs reassurances to you, all the while peering out at Jimin behind him, and seeing the barely discernible whole body sigh he does when he realizes you’ve dropped the topic…

…and that’s all the confirmation you needed to know it wasn’t a dream.

Hoseok sticks to you like a limpet for the following hour, lying with you in your bed for a while after ordering food to be brought up to you, and watching you closely to make sure you ate it, before the two of you decide to go horse-riding, Hoseok suggesting it since you seemed to show such an interest a few days before, despite your protests that the two of you were meant to be going to lunch with Jimin and his Princess.

‘Its fine! We’ll just eat a little later- I’m sure they wont mind, Jagi.’ He offers in reassurance, but you don’t put up much of a fight against it anyway, given that you were still pretty much lost in your own thoughts despite the pretense you were putting up for Hoseok.

As soon as he leaves the room to allow you to get dressed, however, you’re racing over to the window, staring down at the perfectly pristine fountain and scanning the entire area for any sign that what had happened last night wasn’t just in your head, and that it had in fact happened.

But even as you’re staring at the perfectly normal garden area, hating ever drop of water that cascaded from the fountain without a care in the world, you know the only way you’d be able to get answers— answers that you could rely on— was from the only person who, so far, hadn’t given you the slightest hint of thinking you were crazy for questioning what you saw.

The only issue would be finding him.

After getting dressed and concocting a basic plan in your head, that consisted of getting Hoseok distracted for a while so that you could go exploring, you tell the ahjumma to let him in, grinning at him as he enters the room, and instantly making your way over to him so that you could plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

‘What was that for, Princess?’

You smile coyly up at him as you pull him by the hand out of the room, refusing the shivers that raced over your skin at the way he’d called you ‘Princess’ in the exact same way as he had in your dream, and looping your arm through his as you begin to walk down the corridor in the direction of the stable yard, feeling your heart skip a beat in your chest when he leans over at one point to touch his lips to your temple.

‘I’m just thankful that you look after me so well.’ You explain, looking up at him timidly and raising your eyebrows when he pulls you to a gentle stop and turns you to face him, a serious expression quickly taken over his features.

‘You’re my whole world now…I will look after you until the end of time.’

The intensity of his gaze as he says the words to you has your false smile slipping from your face as you realise just how genuine the words were for him, feeling your breath catch in your lungs as you become conflicted with falling hard for this man, and wanting to ask him why he was lying to you. However, before you could think anymore, he’s pulling you in close to him, blocking out the world with his hands on either side of your face as he presses his lips softly, yet determinedly, to your own, and the way his whole presence consumes you, causes you to hold tightly to the lapels of his jacket as you get lost in him.

‘Hoseok!’

You break away from him suddenly when you hear his name being called, opening your eyes quickly despite his hands slowly dropping from your face, and turning to look in the direction of the voice, only to be met with the sight of Namjoon and Mina, with what looked like another of Hoseok’s brothers.

‘Namjoon..Yoongi-Hyung…how can I help you?’

You look up at Hoseok when he speaks, frowning curiously at the instantaneous way he’d switched between determined, caring lover, to ever cheerful, always reliable brother with one upward quirk of his lips, before quickly looking back at the approaching group as they continue to talk.

‘Jimin told us we’d be able to find you here. Father has asked if he can see you, so we told him we’d come and find you for him. Would we be able to steal the Prince from you for a moment, Princess?’

As soon as you’re addressed directly you slap a smile onto your face, bowing to the entourage before going to answer them.

‘Actually, Y/N and myself were-‘

‘Of course!’ you cut Hoseok off, looking up at him with a smile and squeezing his hand that had found its way into yours to reassure him that it was okay, despite the way he shakes his head at you minutely. You quickly stand on tiptoe to drop a kiss onto his lips, subconsciously smiling at the feeling the action brought you, and stopping him from saying anything else, before letting go of his hand and bowing to the others once more.

‘I’ll meet you in the field.’ You say quietly with a smile, turning in the direction you’d been heading originally, and leaving Hoseok looking after you as you take measured steps to the archway that lead outside to the stables, turning back to check you were out of sight, before upping your pace in the vain hope that the plan in your head was a good one.

You don’t know how you’d known he would be there, or what possessed you to ride to the end of the field in the first place, but as soon as you ride over the small hill and see him before the dark forest that skirted the castle, stood beside the same mare he’d been riding last time, running his hand down its side in the most endearing gesture you’d seen from him since your first meeting, you find yourself pulling your horse to a walk, a tiny voice telling you to savor the moment, before the rational side of you knocks it back into a canter.

‘Taehyung-‘

‘I don’t think you should be here…do you?’

You’d forgotten how deep his voice was.

It ran through you like ice as you pulled your horse to an abrupt stop beside him, keeping a distance of around 5ft, but keeping your eyes fastened to him nonetheless as you think of how to respond to what he’d said, observing the way his gaze was fixed to his hand stroking his horse in front of him, fringe stopping just short of his eyes, and taking in his choice of outfit; the marine blue silk jacket and the tight fitting white riding slacks, framing his form in the most captivating way.

‘Why would you say that?’ you ask, the enthusiasm and determination from before having drained slightly from your voice as you watch him, catching the way his eyes flicker down momentarily, as though he were ashamed of something, before he continues stroking the horse— still refusing to look at you.

‘…I suppose you wouldn’t know…would you?’ he mutters, the question stated rhetorically, but the sadness in his tone that was so insistent of attention, has you sliding off of your horse before he could stop you, and you turn to see him having angled his head slightly in your direction, watching you from the corner of his eye, the look on his face being one of dark cautiousness crossed with a hint of panic.

‘Wouldn’t know what?’ you persist, figuring that what he was referring to was exactly what you were thinking (his Princess), and only having the briefest thought flicker through your mind that you should have been running in the complete opposite direction to him after what you’d seen.

But the more curious side of you forced you to stay in place.

‘Y/N, where is Hoseok-hyung? I think you should go back to-‘

‘What if I told you I did know?’

A bolt of electric shoots down your spine when his eyes snap up to yours, your palms becoming sweaty with the silence that protrudes from him, but even when he moves to take a step toward you, you refuse to move away, taking in his slightly terror tinged, curious expression as his hand falls from his horse.

‘You cant. Namjoon-hyung said he stopped it. He said he made everyone forget-‘

‘Forget what. …Taehyung, tell me! Are you talking about your Princess?’ You beg, hearing the tremor in your voice even as you speak, but being helpless to stop it.

‘…tell me I didn’t imagine it….’

You hadn’t realized you’d instinctively reached out to take a hold of his hand until you watched his eyes float down from your face to your arm, the widening of his eyes with fear telling you to let go, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to do so.

‘Taehyung, what happened last night?’ you ask under your breath, feeling your chest rise and fall rapidly with your nervousness, and being about to let him go when you see how fixated he was on your hand. However, just as you loosen your grip on him you find your wrist shackled by his fingers, and the first hint of what you assumed to be fear stroked against your spine.

…or was it something else…

‘You need to forget about last night… pretend you didn’t see anything. Don’t say anything about the eye thing, and just-just… don’t say anything.’ He stutters, ending in a hard whisper, the words falling from his mouth urgently as his eyes bore into your own, the deep mocha brown slowly getting overtaken by pitch black with the longer you stare at him, and the sight makes you smile subconsciously.

‘Y/N, you have to listen to me!-’

‘I promise I wont say anything to anyone…if you tell me why yours turn black.’ You say quietly, being so distracted with the sight that you lose all inhibition of your own actions, not realizing that you’d raised your hand to his cheek, your fingers creeping toward his eyes, until he’s suddenly pushing you back, the force of his actions propelling you back into your horse.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you fall to the floor and look up to see your horse spooking above you, his hooves sounding like they were hammering all around, and all you can do is close your eyes and curl into a ball in the vein hope that it would avoid you if you stayed still.

But after several seconds of whinnying and hearing the clatter of hooves on the condensed ground, the sound matching your erratic heartbeat, it takes you a few moments before you realize there were arms surrounding you and that the noise of the horse sounded like it was coming from several meters away.

‘Y/N!‘

His voice has you snapping your eyes open, the sight of him before you causing the breath to stall in your chest, and after staring at him in bewilderment for a millisecond or two, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and clutching tightly to him to try to suffocate the adrenaline running through you.

‘I thought I was done for.’ You breathe, not being conscious enough of what you were saying to be hesitant of your own words, or to even work out how you’d got into his arms in the first place, but staring blankly out towards the forest behind him as you hold onto him desperately, and he begins walking with you back in the direction of the stables.

‘Its okay, Jagi. I’m here. I’ve got you.’

You wind your arms tighter around Hoseok’s neck as he murmurs reassurances to you, the feeling of your heart thundering in your chest feeling like it was working for the both of you as you continue to stare behind him between the trees, your mind barely catching up with you as you see a figure hiding behind the ghostly white trunk of a sycamore tree, black, fear-filled eyes staring back at you…

…before they slowly disappear….

(T.B.C)