#i kind if understood the bit of dave just getting older i thought that was cool as hell but what the fuck is the giant baby in utero

[skeletxr]

2001 A Space Odyessy sure is A Movie

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1

Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes?  A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+

Chapter 1

The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.

Today was your first day at your new job-  you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.

No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.

You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.

You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.

After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”

“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.

“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”

You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”

“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”

After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.

“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.

With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.

With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.

“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.

“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.

“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.

You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.

“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.

“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”

You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”

Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.

“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”

You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”

“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”

“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?

“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.

You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.

Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-

“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.

You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.

Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.

Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.

As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”

Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.

“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.

Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”

Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.

“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.

Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.

“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.

“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.

You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.

“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.

Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.

Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.

“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.

“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.

“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”

He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”

“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.

Next chapter

[1234-angelika]

Errands

an:Hey y’all! So this is the fifth instalment in my Happily Ever After series for David. As always, hope y’all enjoy!

words:1.1k

warnings: mentions fof church and religion (not in depth), canon-typical violence (at the end)

summary:"Running errands is like running a marathon with a mirage as a destination. You think you're almost there but you'll never hit one." -Sripada

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

Slowly you began to wake up. Raindrops pattering against the windowpane, still aggressively trying to lull you back to sleep.

You flipped the covers off and hopped out of bed, determined to start your day off with David on a good note. Glancing at the clock, you quickly noticed you had less time to get ready than you thought. Hurriedly, you started the shower and climbed in. As the water woke you up, you thought about your plans for the day. The two would be going to church together and then to the farmers market before lunch; after lunch, there was no plan since it changed every day. You and David made that plan together when the two of you began to get serious.

You climbed out of the shower, and after wrapping a towel around yourself, you started on your hair. After a once over with hairspray, your hair was done. You looked at the clock and spurred yourself to move faster. You only had twenty minutes until David was coming to pick you up. Carefully, you began the application of your makeup, finishing with eight minutes to spare. Luckily, you had picked your dress out last night on account of the fact that you never leave enough time for yourself to get ready. Being mindful of your hair and makeup, you slipped into your dress, and then after grabbing your purse off your bed, you made your way downstairs.

Opening the coat closet, you pulled out your nude pumps and stepped into them. After you had your shoes on, you grabbed your camel coat and shrugged it on. As soon as you finished pulling on your jacket, the doorbell echoed through the foyer. You hurried to the door, still careful to avoid tripping. You opened the door, and there stood David, handsome as ever in his church attire.

“You look lovely mio amore,” David said as they leaned in, kissing both cheeks.

“And you look as handsome as ever.” You replied in kind, your cheeks heating up as a reaction to the compliment.

Stepping out, you turned and locked the door before reaching for David’s outstretched hand. He made sure you were covered under his umbrella before he led you down the front steps to the car. He pulled open the door and waited for you to get in before gently closing it and walking to his side. Once he got in, he took off toward the church. The entire drive, his hand rested on your knee, and soft music drifted out of the speakers, filling the car. When you arrived, again David opened your door for you and then grabbed your hand. The two of you walked into the church just in time. The mass seemed to go forever, the priest seemingly droning on with his sermon; you might have actually dozed off for a bit. The end of the mass always seemed to go faster than the first half. Once it ended, David grabbed your hand, and the umbrella in his other one before the two of you walked to the doors of the church. Gently but firmly, you pushed open the doors; instead of the rain you had been expecting, you were surprised by the sun. You turned to flash Dave a smile before facing forward and beginning to walk to the car. The two of you made it through the parking lot and to your car, narrowly being missed by cars a few times. You climbed into the car, and Dave put the umbrella in the trunk before doing the same.

He took off towards your usual farmers market. It was hopping, definitely more busy than usual. You blamed this on the uncharacteristically warm fall weather. The pair of you exited the car before joining hands and making your way to the market entrance. David paid for the parking, and then the two of you began walking around. The first section was the crafts section; some people were even selling work made by their children. This section was full of tables selling handmade jewelry, quilts, soaps, clothing and, other crafts. You stopped at each of the tables, taking longer than usual at one. David only noticed because something pulled him back as he went to move to the next one.

“What are you looking at?”

You held up the package you were inspecting and turned it towards him. “Look at this beautiful set of coasters.”

“Those are incredible!”

The interaction between you and Dave caught the attention of the woman operating the table.

“Do you like those?” She asked, walking toward the two of you.

“These are incredible,” you responded, “did you make them?”

With a laugh, the older woman replied to you, shaking her head, “No dear, those were made by my daughters.”

“How old are they?” You asked with a surprised gasp.

“My girls are six and eight.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before David said, “Incredible work for children so young. How much for the set?”

A wide smile spread across her face as she answered. “Ten for the set but, since the two of you are so sweet, I’ll give you an extra set.”

David pulled out his wallet, handed her a twenty—telling her to keep the change before giving you the bag containing your new purchase. After the sweet interaction, you walked around the rest of the market with a soft smile on your face. The two of you bought various other things, including fresh produce, honey, cheese, and even some artisanal vodka. After wrapping things up at the market, you made it back to the comfort of the car. He turned in his seat to face you, saying,

“Which café is it this week, Arlene’s, The Jumping Bean or, Estrellas?”

Between the three of the café’s the two of you cycled through, you actually had to take a minute to think about it.

“This week, I think it’s Arlene’s.”

He nodded, and then the two of you drove off. As you pulled into the parking lot, you immediately noted the lot was uncharacteristically empty. Usually, Sunday was their busiest day. But, forever, the suspicious FBI agent, David, asked you to wait in the car before getting out to look around. About five minutes later, he returned to the car with a grim look on his face. You opened the door to get out, but he just shook his head. As you sat in the car waiting, you faintly heard Dave on the phone with Aaron, and it was then that you understood just how bad it was.

Definitely not how you planned your day off together, but at least the two of you got the chance to spend some of the day together.

taglist: @multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife @gspenc

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

Truth and Awakenings Ch. 5

Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x03, with a few additional scenes :)

Chapter summary: JJ wakes up and tells Emily she’s in love with her.

Read on AO3

Tagging: @binariesarebullshit @bridget19 @jemilyisms

Emily’s eyes focused on one tiny spot on the white tiled floor. She was crouching forward a little, as she chewed on her thumbnail and impatiently tapped her foot. She felt a little tired after staying at the hospital for almost more than half of the day, but she wanted to stay awake for her friend.

“Emily,” Will called out in the hallway, making her head snap towards his direction. “She’s awake. She wants to see you.”

Emily stood up, wiping her somewhat sweaty palms on her slacks. “Is she ok?”

Will smiled, “Why don’t you go see for yourself? I gotta go pick up the boys.” He saw Emily staring off into space and placed a hand on her arm. “I really think you should go see her, Emily. You’re one of the most important people in her life.”

The woman was taken aback by that statement coming from Will. JJ’s husband. That means nothing, right? Emily is one of JJ’s best friends, of course, he would say that. She hesitantly nodded and Will patted her on the shoulder before leaving.

Emily took a deep breath and shook her head to drive her nerves away. She slowly made her way towards JJ’s hospital room and her eyes searched for the blonde.

JJ saw her and gave a smile. “Hey, you.”

Emily softly smiled back, “Hey.” It faded shortly once she examined JJ’s body resting on the bed. Her eyes were filled with concern, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“JJ…” her boss warned, knowing that she was lying. That response always meant, 'I don't want to talk about right now. I can handle myself.' Emily was very familiar with that phrase.

“Emily, I’m fine. Really,” JJ told her. Emily raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not buying it. “Ok,” the blonde finally said. “I will admit it kinda hurts when I move a little.”

Emily awkwardly pointed at the door. “I should go and let you get some rest.”

“No. No, not yet.” JJ sighed happily, staring up at her with love in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” The grey-haired woman slightly smiled and her eyes scanned the room as she bit her lip in worry. She lifted a hand before JJ stopped her, knowing she was going to bite her fingernails, and felt the blonde’s hand easily slip into hers.

“I should’ve found you sooner. I shouldn't have made us split up…” Emily started apologizing.

JJ shook her head, “Hey, it’s fine. I just happened to have found Lynch and his daughter when we did. I’m not blaming you for any of this and neither should you.” She knew Emily always put herself down for risking other people’s lives, and would rather put her own life on the line just save them. JJ needed to make Emily understand that she knew the other woman didn’t intend to put her in danger.

Emily blinked and shook her head. She almost didn’t believe her best friend would ever forgive her. “But this is my responsibility and- and you got hurt.”

“Emily-”

“You flatlined for a few seconds. I was there when they-”

“Emily,” JJ cut her off, her face softening afterwards. “Look at me.”

Emily finally put her attention back to the blonde and began to relax her shoulders, brushing her thumb over JJ’s hand. “You could’ve died, if I didn’t make it on time.”

“But you did make it on time.” A smile slowly made its way to JJ’s face, “You saved my life, Emily. You always did.”

Emily shrugged, “I don’t know what I’d do, if I didn’t.”

JJ simply nodded. Even the blonde wouldn’t know what to do with herself, if Emily was hurt on the job, either. JJ understood what Emily meant because she would’ve done the same and risk her own life for her.

Then, she remembered why she told Will she wanted to see Emily alone. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Emily froze for a second, as questions began to run through her head. She’s not quitting, is she? I understand if she does, I mean, she nearly died and-

She felt a gentle tug at her hand and glanced down. JJ had seen Emily lost somewhere in her thoughts again, so she decided to bring her back down to earth, rubbing the older woman’s thumb. Emily brought her comfort earlier, so it was her turn to offer it to her, feeling Emily’s hand squeeze hers.

JJ’s tongue darted out at the corner of her mouth before taking a shaky breath. “Will and I divorced two years ago.”

Emily’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god. JJ, I don’t- I’m so sorry. Did something happen?” she stuttered. Part of her hoped that was a sign that she could finally be with JJ, but the other part of her was confused as to why. She had no involvement in destroying their marriage and they didn’t even look like they were having any issues (to her and everyone else, at least), so why was she still freaking out?

“Kind of,” JJ sighed and Emily brought her focus back to her. “I realized that I’ve been in love with you. For a really long time.”

Emily’s body froze again. She’s in love with me? JJ… is in love with me? I don’t understand. Why?

The blonde’s eyes widened in panic. She must’ve misheard her earlier, then. “I’m sorry, Emily. I just thought that-”

“No, no, no, no!” Emily exclaimed too quickly before clearing her throat, cheeks flushing a light pink. “I mean, uh…”

JJ shook her head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Look, I know you’re with Andrew but-”

“I’m not with him anymore,” she said. “We broke up. It’s over.”

Upon hearing this news, JJ smiled in relief.

“Now, what made you realize you had feelings for me?” Emily grinned, as she dragged a chair nearby to sit next to her, choosing not to leave the room. She rested her chin in her palm and looked at the younger agent with adoration.

JJ let out a genuine laugh, feeling glad that her secret was out. “Well, at first I thought it was this little crush because you were… so strong and amazingly stunning, and confident.” She shrugged with a little head shake, “And because of that, you seemed way out of my league, so, you know, I tried ignoring it for a while.”

Emily was surprised that JJ found her almost hard to get, especially when she was thinking the same about the blonde. “Was I really that intimidating?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe, yeah,” JJ giggled, finding that ridiculous now. “Well, I thought it was kinda hot, so…”

Emily just smiled and let her continue, ignoring the small blush appearing on her cheeks at the compliment.

JJ looked down and interlocked their fingers together. “I guess, after a while, I saw how you tried making me feel like I was important. That I was valid. No one’s ever made me feel that way before. You never forced me to change. You always made it comfortable for me to be myself and never judged me.”

“Then, there was that time I was tortured, and I thought of you coming to my rescue." She shook her head and sighed for a second, "I realized my mind always went to you and nobody else. I should’ve known that sooner, but it took me a while to know about these feelings I had for you.”

It was true. JJ didn’t know she had all these signs right in front of her. All those years, she had dismissed those as little ‘coincidences’ or merely someone just helping a friend out. It was way deeper than that. Emily cared for her in a way no one else in her life had, and was willing to lay down her life to save JJ’s.

JJ glanced back up to meet Emily’s eyes and gave a warm smile. “You’re the first person I’ve ever truly loved. I loved Will, too, but it was never as much as I loved you. I, uh- that’s why we decided to divorce. It gave me time to explore my feelings about you and now, I feel sure that I’m in love with you, Emily.”

“Really?”

JJ nodded, tears forming in her own eyes, “Yes. God, I love you so much, Emily.”

“I love you, too, JJ,” Emily whispered with watery eyes.

The two women smiled at each other, finally feeling the weight lift off their shoulders from professing their love for one another. After almost 14 years of yearning, they were now able to be together.

Emily sighed and pressed a kiss against JJ’s forehead. The blonde frowned, making Emily laugh.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” JJ pouted even more and tilted her head to the side. Emily thought it was adorable.

“Because I don’t wanna give the medical staff a hard time, if the monitor goes off,” she winked, earning a playful slap on the arm.

JJ rolled her eyes and shook her head at her remark. “What a charmer.”

“Hey, you said you were attracted to my confidence, so you’re gonna have to deal with it,” the grey-haired woman smirked.

“Shut up,” JJ blushed and licked her lips. “Um, Emily. I forgot to tell you, but Will and Spencer actually knew about the whole…” she awkwardly gestured with her hands, “me being in love with you thing.”

Emily needed a moment to register those words. That explains why Will didn’t seem mad at her or anything like that, but wait. “Spence knew about this?”

“Long story,” the blonde answered, placing a hand on Emily’s arm. “I’ll tell you sometime after I get out.”

“Well, Dave knew about me having a thing for you, so…” Emily quietly confessed.

“So, do you think they were waiting for us to get together?” JJ asked, a little amused and surprised.

Emily shrugged, “Probably. For a couple of profilers, we really are blind.”

JJ laughed, and her body was filled with warmth and giddiness when the older woman kissed her hand. Emily frowned at the small object on JJ’s finger. Speaking of profiling… “What about your wedding ring?”

“Oh,” JJ gave a sheepish smile. “I totally forgot about it. Whoops.”

She toyed with the ring, shyly looking at it before waving her hand. “I, um, kept it on because I didn’t want the team throwing me questions about my divorce. I already had enough thrown at me when I was a liaison.” Then, she leaned in closer. “Also because I didn’t want some unsub or detective thinking they have a chance and try to hit on me,” she winked.

Emily chuckled in amusement. “Wow.”

“I’m telling you, the ring works every time.”

Emily playfully shook her head and stared at the ring on JJ’s finger. While she wasn't the one married to the younger woman, she smiled at the thought of sharing her life with JJ. But that seemed too soon to think about.

“What’s with the smile?” JJ asked, forming one of her own.

“Nothing,” Emily played off with a wave of a hand.

JJ tucked a piece of hair behind Emily’s ear and kissed her knuckles. “Emily,” she quietly said. “I know I’m in a tough situation right now, but… how about I take you out on a date after this?”

Blushing at the small gesture, Emily answered with a smile. “I would love that.”

JJ felt a sense of relief when she accepted the invitation. “Does this make us a couple now?” she wondered where their relationship stood at this point.

Emily opened her mouth, blinking as she carefully chose her words. Sure, they had just confessed their love right now, but she decided she wanted to take things slow with JJ. “Well, we’ll see how things go before we think about putting labels on whatever this is,” she offered as a compromise.

“Ok,” JJ nodded in agreement and beamed at her. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you, too.”

After a few seconds, JJ nudged Emily’s arm, “Hey. Once I get discharged, do you think-”

“Nope! No, absolutely not. You are not working under those conditions,” Emily warned, shaking her head.

“But Emily…” JJ stressed each syllable of her name, pouting. She hoped this and her irresistible baby blues would work on the grey-haired woman.

“That’s a no, Agent Jareau,” she said with a serious look in her eyes, though, she had to mentally restrain herself from giving in.

JJ playfully whined even more, “Emily, I thought you loved me!”

“That gives you no excuse to be out in the field right now," Emily shook her head. God, JJ was even more stubborn about her well-being than she thought.

"Fine,” JJ crossed her arms over her chest and pretended to sulk, like a child not getting their favorite candy.

“You’re so cute,” Emily smiled and kissed her nose.

JJ took this as an opportunity to snake a hand behind Emily’s neck, bringing her head closer. The softness JJ felt against her lips made her melt instantly and she wanted to continue kissing her longer. She felt herself nearly getting dizzy from it and thought she was going to faint soon, but she didn’t care. JJ had been waiting years to do this. She just didn’t expect Emily to be that good of a kisser.

They both heard a rapid beeping and Emily nearly jumped out of her chair. Dr. Hsu came rushing in and laughed after she got the EKG monitor back to normal.

“Oh, I knew you two were a couple,” she said, seeing the flustered women, before leaving the room. “Make sure you take it easy. You almost had us worried for a second.”

“I told you,” Emily smirked at JJ, now noticing the effect she had on the blonde.

JJ lifted a shoulder and innocently smiled. “I couldn’t help myself.”

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

Partners S1: E5 Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal

Daveed & Rafael are best friends and artists who have collaborated across film, theater, music, and poetry. Their partnership extends beyond the normal boundaries of friendship, and the normal boundaries of a working relationship.

Rafael: There's sort of a before we met and an after we met and no gradient. Daveed: Yeah. Rafael: I don't remember— Daveed: It's like, I don't even know this guy and then this is the person I work with on everything. Rafael: And I'm pretty sure I said to him, I was like, "This is my best friend." Daveed: I'm Daveed Diggs. Rafael: I'm Rafael Casal. Daveed: And we're buddies.

Listen to it here

Full transcript under the cut...

Daveed: I'm not sure when we met or when we were formally introduced, but surely at some sort of poetry event, because we were both sort of coming up in that scene. I was older, I was four years older than him. Rafael: My freshman year, his senior year. That's a lifetime apart in high school. My memory of him in high school is Diggs always had a very nonchalant way about him. I don't know that this paints it accurately, but this is a representation of it, at some point Diggs was like, "I'm just wearing pajama pants to school every day," and I'm sure that wasn't the whole time, I got this little window of it. Daveed: It was the whole time. All of high school, for sure. Rafael: That's amazing. Daveed: It was as a rule. But we would see each other at these poetry events and he was really, really good at writing poems. A way more sort of focused writer than I had ever been in that situation, you know? So I remember that. I remember thinking that here's a person that's actually better than me at this thing and that's pretty cool. Daveed: Then over the years, also after when I was in college, when I'd come back home for the summers, sometimes I'd drop in just to watch poetry things that were happening, sort of check in on the scene. He was the dude, he had become that guy. Rafael: I remember that so differently. I barely finished high school in a very nontraditional way and then went off and did this show on HBO, Def Poetry.

Rafael: I came back and had just enough money saved up with some friends to open a very dungeon-y recording studio and we were looking for other artists. We didn't have anybody else recording at the studio. So a mutual friend of ours, one of his close friends who was the older brother of one of my close friends was like, "You know Daveed raps?" Daveed: Yeah, we really got set up on a rapper play date. So our friend Justin was like, "You guys should work together. You're two of my favorite rappers." I was like, "Yeah, yeah." And he played me his stuff and it was really good. I didn't have anywhere to record, I was recording songs in my Mom's closet, in the little closet in my room. I hadn't been in a lot of studio spaces, so I was like, oh, a studio? Rafael: I don't know that this qualified as an actual studio. Daveed: I didn't know that yet because I hadn't been there yet. Rafael: But I don't think we had any idea what meeting each other and actually getting time was going to be like. Daveed: Finally we started. It was like, this is the song we're going to work. We had listened through some beats and it was like, "Let's work on this one." I just started writing and, yeah, it happened really fast. At some point we looked up and everyone else was gone and it was just the two of us in there and we were still making music. Rafael: We just made music until the sun came up and began the ritual that day of going to the car at 8:00 AM and playing everything that you'd recorded and then dragging your body home to sleep and kind of doing it all over again. Daveed: I'd been making music for many, many years and it had never been that much fun before. Rafael: Suddenly there's this person that writes a verse in five minutes and can nail it in a take. And at the time we were working with some random singers and stuff that couldn't ever sing the line and rappers who took an hour to get a verse down. It was just like, "Wow, this is so easy," and then we'd just have songs done.

Daveed: As a young artist early on when I'm still trying to figure things out and creating is hard for me, being around somebody who just creates all the time, it's addictive. I don't have the technical skill set that Rafa has, so he was so fast in Pro Tools. He was all of these things that I just would have to labor over and then all of that stuff became really impressive too. Once, as we started working together and I became aware that he had taught himself all of these things, nobody ever really showed him how to do anything, it seemed like... and he was editing videos and shooting things, the whole range of what it takes to be a music artist out in the world he had taught himself to do. I didn't really know anybody like that. Rafael: Over the next four or five years we recorded hundreds of songs- Daveed: So many more songs- Rafael:...that no-one's heard. Daveed:...that no-one will ever hear. Rafael: Legit hundreds and wrote a play together and then we lived together and it was like, oh man. When we're around each other this much it's like we have too many ideas. It was the right amount of proximity for the full version of creativity that we had always... we had thought we'd already tapped it and we did so much shit that year. I think artistically we were doing great. Daveed: Yeah, we're definitely making it and we were definitely broke. Rafael: People knew us. Daveed: It was just a combination of the thing, it was like- Rafael: We got on the radio. Daveed: This is also great, listen to how he says we. Because really Rafa was known, right? He had a song that got played on Clear Channel radio and then got named one of the Bay Area Freshmen '10. Rafael: Best new whatever. Daveed: He got named one of those, but Rafa never would take that for himself, it was always us. We are. We played those shows together and would end up making no money on these gigs because he would bring me and a band, four or five other people to play music, use the entire fee to fly us out to wherever, Georgia and play a show where no-one would make any money but we got to play a show. He was doing that from jump for so long. Hrishikesh: Why was that how you would always do it? Rafael: Well because, one, I don't, I'm uncomfortable with I statements. Daveed: Berkeley is shit. Rafael: Berkeley is shit. I'm not good to roll with I statements, they feel self indulgent. I was raised to not feed an ego that feels constantly eager for food. What I love about that period is we were all pushing to little different degrees of success. We're just kind of weirdos almost in a scene that we kind of make sense in. They didn't understand Diggs very much at all, I feel like the more commercial Bay Areas scene and they only sort of understood me. It was very you're in, but don't try to make any changes, you know? And I think that's a big reason that we went to LA. We could see the top of the ladder and it's not getting any friendlier or more receptive. We maybe can make this movie and maybe there's different music opportunities down there, but it's definitely not going to happen here. And then suddenly we packed up from the West Oakland place and moved to LA. Daveed: Also we had already been, we were working on Blindspotting, so we'd been traveling up and down. Our producers, we had been driving to meet with them really frequently. Rafael: We were slumming it so hard when we got to LA, we were so poor. Diggs was delivering tacos. Daveed: Yeah. I was like... I couldn't be an actor in LA, is what I decided. Rafael: We're just swinging and missing, just trying to figure out what does it mean to be in the bigger pond and want to be artists professionally. We did five years in LA before Diggs went to New York to do Hamilton. I think that was one of those things that came about for Diggs really organically. Hamilton was such an interesting... it was a play, it was legit written for him to flex all the things he's good at. They were like, "Who's this rap kid that turns out can also act?" And the rest of us were like, "Turns out? He's been doing that more than a lot of y'all." And the world saw Diggs in the light that best showed everything and they not only accepted, but obsessed over it. And then I went to visit him in New York when the show was picking up steam and the first thing that happened is this girl grabs my arm and looks at Diggs and goes, "Oh my God, is that Daveed Diggs?" to me and I start to realize that this woman is Anne Hathaway and she's fan-girling out. I'm like, "Oh man, a major shift is happening."

Daveed: My life is changing very, very quickly. I was under stress constantly. Rafa is calling and texting and emailing and I'm getting back to the degree that I can. So yes, obviously it would have been so much easier and nicer if my best friend was also living in New York and somebody who has context for me outside of this thing. Rafael: I remember [inaudible 00:10:39] I turned to Diggs and I was like, "I'm thinking about moving to New York so you'll respond more in person." I remember Diggs goes, "I didn't want to ask." Daveed: That's a big ask and I'm doing eight shows a week. It's not like, move to New York and let's go kick it in the Berkshires, you know? It's like, move to New York and I'll see you at midnight sometimes. Rafael: But I was like, well it's just good for him to have a friend there. But also can I run your social media? Because you're not posting enough and people want to see this adventure and there's a sincere way to do it. And I had done a little bit of it with his Twitter and stuff in the Bay and in LA, but this was like, "Give me your passwords." I probably already had them. Daveed: This was an admission that he was going to use them. Rafael: I was letting him know that I was going to do it. Daveed: On a regular basis. And I was like, "Yeah, yeah, do that." Rafael: And especially if you actually hadn't been able to do it, you didn't have to be self-indulgent, I'm doing it. There's a year of his Instagram that's just his friend's version of how awesome he is.

Rafael: Blindspotting got started because, around when I was 21, one of my friends got killed in a way that sort of didn't make a lot of sense to most people in the community. And it was sort of the breaking point because it was a woman, because it was somebody who wasn't really involved in the violence of the world that we were existing in at the time. Some other people had been killed and other people I sort of was close to. There was a series of funerals people had gone to in succession and this was the button on it. It was just a breaking point for me. So I had written this poem about sort of the numbness of that experience of like, "God, is this what life is? People die and we get numb and we care a little less every time? How does this go?" And then we just kind of started coming up with a story that was a movie that's in verse starring the two of us. We kept almost making Blindspotting and not making it. Diggs, he finishes this massive sensation in New York. He had 30 days in June that he could shoot this movie- Daveed: 22. Rafael:... and then a month later we were in Oakland shooting the movie. Daveed: In the hometown. Everybody who's an extra in that movie is a friend of ours that we grew up with. Rafael: Yeah. And it's still not a real movie to us. It's still a thing we can't believe they made. Daveed: In Hollywood, in a world that we always assumed we didn't belong in, that we never really figured out how we would fit into anyway. To have doors start opening in a way where they're sort of asking questions about what you want to do is crazy actually. It's just fun in meetings post Blindspotting now that we're associated together in this way and also people have been able to see that Rafael is a great actor as well as a great writer. It's like, "Well what's he doing? Do you think he'd be interested in this? Can you talk to him for us?" It's pretty... I love that. I love that so much. Rafael: And I still know the 10 things that he can do that nobody's seen yet. And that's still fun for me. Daveed: The closest I have ever gotten to fighting with Rafa I think is when somebody else I'm close to is fighting with Rafa, right? Rafael: I think that's sort of our good cop, bad cop type of... where someone will be venting to him and he's like, "I don't know what to tell you, I've already picked my team." We have this expression that we always say, we did this before every show and we kind of do it anytime we're at a crossroads. We're like energy up, expectations down. Daveed: Energy up, expectations down. Rafael: It's just like this whole ship runs on enthusiasm.

Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal are partners. Go watch their film Blindspotting and check out the album they put out together last year, called Seven Nights in Chicago. You can follow them on Twitter or Instagram @DaveedDiggs and @RafaelCasal. Rafael probably still has the passwords to Daveed's accounts.

[dcnnafms]

*  taps  the  mic  * testing , testing , 1 , 2 , 3 .... hello ? *  clears  throat  * hi guys & gals & non binary pals  !!  i’m  taylor  weighing  in  at  the  solid  age  of 20  years  old  aka  a  glorified  teenager  because  really  what  can  i  do  that  a  19  year  old  can’t  lmao ?  i’m  from  the  est  & couldn’t  be  more  excited  to  have  found  this  beautiful  gem  of  a  roleplay  !  honestly i haven’t been this excited about a group in ... forever  !  so i cannot wait to start roleplaying with you all  !   but for now i’m going to leave you with this intro because i’m going to the pats game tonight  ?!  and need to run & get ready because my friends are on the way  !  without further ado though , i think it’s time for me to introduce you to my lil baby donna who i haven’t played in like 7 months so please bare with me here while i find my footing with her again !  if you’d like to plot just give this a like or shoot me an im & i promise i’ll get back to you when i get home later tonight !

note : here career is here in this post btw !

╰   stats .  ◞,

click here for the statistics page  .

╰   pinterest .  ◞,

click here for the pinterest page  .

╰   playlist .  ◞,

1. let you go by machine gun kelly , 2. bmo by ari lennox  ,  3. death by trippie redd ft. dababy  ,  4. agree to disagree by sleeping with siren  ,  5.  night shift by dave east ft. lil baby  , 6. violent crimes by kanye west  ,  7. runaway by aurora  ,  8. love song by lana del rey  ,  9. all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish  ,  10.  i think im okay by machine gun kelly ft. yungblood  ,  11. envy me by calboy  ,  12. cash s**t by megan thee stallion ft. dababy  ,  13. yellow hearts by ant sanders  ,  14. what to do? by jackboys ft. don toliver  ,  15. the git up by blanco brown  ,  16. erase your social by lil uzi vert  ,  17. everything i wanted by billie eilish  ,  18.  bandit by juice wrld ft youngboy never broke again  ,  19. bop by dababy  ,  20. candy by machine gun kelly ft. trippie redd  . 

╰   biography  .  ◞,

an only child born to a secretary for a mother & an often unemployed father in athens , ohio in late 1996 . life for young donna was nothing out of any film you would enjoy watching . a childhood full of neglect & growing up much too fast for your own good . her father , matthew , had fallen into heavy addiction just a year before donna’s birth & her mother , denise , had learned to bury her sorrows with a bottle of alcohol . well below the poverty index there were many nights she knew she wouldn’t come home to food on the table but instead a slew of addicts getting their high in the middle of the living room , keeping the young girl up at all times of the night with their rowdy antics . 

by the time she reached third grade she’d learned that her day at school would go over much more smoothly if she made sure she had her backpack, coat & on the one off chance that there was enough food in the house pack her lunch , because if she waited for one of her parents to do it for her she’d never make it to school on time . her mom often had to rush to work in a hungover state & her father didn’t wake up until after she was already due for school , so donna had relied on the bus to get to & from school each day . 

at twelve she’d realized that she was much happier the less time she spent at home & so she did all she could to stay out with her friends . she became one of those kids you passed wondering where their parents were at that time of night as them & their friends wreaked havoc in the streets of athens . picking up smoking weed at the ripe age of thirteen , she quickly learned nothing was a better fix for how much she’d hated her life than a quick blunt . she’d fallen into a dark place at a very young age & from her perspective there was really no way out of the downward spiral she had fallen into . she blamed her parents for messing her up so badly & often when she was home it turned into blows between herself & her parents the end result always landed her at one of her friends houses for the night. 

it wasn’t until she was fifteen that she befriended a new girl whose parents took a liking to donna & really took her in . it was something like a safe haven spot for her , somewhere she always knew she could go & they’d want to hear about her day or feed her . they’re the ones who learned of donna’s wanting to join the school theater club & urged her to do so . they attended her first performance & her second, third , fourth , etc . 

one of her performances at the school garnered the attention of a screenwriter who felt she was a perfect fit for a character they were in the process of creating . this was when her first hollywood deal came , initially turning it down as she had no means to so much as leave the city of athens forget travel to an entirely different state . the screenwriter offered to take care of her completely & before she knew it she was working on the first installment of the hunger games . 

when she got back to athens after spending a few months in los angeles she’d realized just how much potential there was out in the world . at this point she decided to take things within her life a bit more seriously . there was a life outside of athens , ohio & donna was craving for it now . making the conscious decision to focus on her schooling with the hopes that she’d be able to get into a decent university . college had never been so much as thought for donna before she’d left the city but after filming a movie , she realized almost anything was possible even for someone like her . 

during this same year , her parents split up & her father got back together with his highschool sweetheart , this prompted her father to admit to donna that she had a brother who was three years older than her , who was actually in college . the two got to know one another fairly well when he’d come back home from school during breaks & the two found themselves loving the idea of having a sibling . mutually upset that they’d spent so much of their time not knowing each other so much as existed . donna lived with her father & step-mother amanda in athens & the change in her father was more than visible .  she was more than happy that her father had gotten on the straight & narrow , no matter what had to take place for it to happen & who he needed in his life for it to take place . in this time her mother moved to cincinnati & the separation actually made the relationship between donna & her mother stronger . 

in 2014 , she graduated from highschool & had committed to attending ohio state university as a theater major . during her time in columbus , ohio she & her new found friends took a liking to the downtown area where they found a hidden gem bar that often held open mic nights . this is where donna was really able to cultivate her love for stand up , despite dabbling in it a few times back in high school & whenever she was out in los angeles . she took to college well & somehow managed to juggle her education , career & social life fairly well . if you ask her how she did it , she’ll always give all the credit to her brother brody & maybe some residual credit to weed . 

in her sophomore year she’d fallen in love for the very first time , with one of the quarterbacks at her university . they dated for two years before he’d decided to transfer to lousiana state university . she understood why he did it , he had a career in football he was chasing & she couldn’t be mad at him about that . despite the long distance & at times very hectic schedules between the two of them she worked on being the most supportive girlfriend she could to him & made it out to any & every game she possibly could of his . 

after graduating from ohio state she moved down to lousiana in hopes to be with him more but her career kind of kept going & so she was nearly in louisiana just as often as she had been before moving down there. they made it work for a good amount of time , but the distance just started to become a little too much . donna is someone who craves affection after a childhood of not much affection to be sparred . she caught herself at times during the relationship on the verge of cheating , but she is a staunch believer that if you truly love someone you could never do something of that magnitude to them . it was a mutual break up , that came in the early months of 2019 . 

she’s now been living in calabasas since she moved out of louisiana & is learning to get back onto her feet without someone there to uplift her  . 

╰   scandal  .  ◞,

on december 23rd of 2019 a sex tape with donna’s name plastered all over it had been released online . it was a sex tape of her & her ex who by this time has cemented himself as the likely first round pick in the nfl draft . the sex tape took off & it seemed as though every time her team managed to get it down , it popped up somewhere else . both donna & her ex knew neither one was to blame for the leaking of the sex tape & so they worked together to figure out who was behind it , today their getting closer & closer to finding the person who did it . despite this , the tape is still able to be viewed on the internet it you dig hard enough . although not many have to do that as it had gone vial upon it’s initial release back in december . 

[daisychains4]

Can’t Handle You | Chapter 10: Lisbon

Can’t Handle You | Masterlist

Warnings: None

AN: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

No one was more excited when the tour bus pulled into Lisbon than Shawn. Not only did he love Portugal for the family history there - it’s where his dad grew up - but Shawn’s parents were coming to visit. He hadn’t seen them in almost a month, and he missed them more than he was ever prepared for.

It would be a hectic day, and Manny and Karen wouldn’t arrive until later, so Shawn and the boys hit the gym immediately after deboarding the bus. Shawn looked forward to working out every day, but today he had a lot of nervous energy to burn off.

Maybe that’s why you were surprised to find Shawn’s reply to your note. You had expected him to be too busy and distracted to write back until a few more cities had passed by your bus window.

Shawn’s note wasn’t as long as yours, which was not surprising considering your question (What would you name your boat if you had one?), but you couldn’t help but be excited to read it. You allowed yourself to be momentarily distracted from your usual unpacking-Shawn’s-room duties and sat on the edge of the hotel bed to read.

Who says I don’t have a boat already? Shawn wrote. Well ok, I don’t. But now I kind of want one. I think watching the sun go down over Lake Ontario from the bow (yes, I looked that up) of my own sailboat would be kind of amazing. A sport boat, like the kind you could surf behind, would be cool, too. But there’s something about a sailboat that seems really - is romantic the right word? Not like love-romance, but the kind of romantic where everything just seems perfect and beautiful and a little bit magical. Although, come to think of it, watching the sunset on a sailboat could be pretty love-romantic, too.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read. Growing up so close to Lake Travis, you were practically raised on the water. Your mom’s best friend owned a small boat rental business, and you spent every free moment of the warm seasons wakeboarding behind one of his boats, learning to expertly drive the various sports boats he offered, or laying across the deck of Dave’s own Nautique to work on your tan. You’d turned your favorite pastime into a pretty lucrative high school job, working the counter at Dave’s shop and offering boating and wakeboarding lessons on the side. 

You’d always had a pretty romantic, to use Shawn’s word, view of sailboats, though. You often fantasized about sailing out to open sea, standing at the tip of the bow of a catamaran or a schooner, one hand on the jib as you leaned out over the water. That particular image may have come from an old Audrey Hepburn photo your mom had shown you (your mom had an obsession with old Hollywood starlets). 

Either way, you felt your heart race a little at Shawn’s words - especially the implication of a romantic sunset cruise. Was he flirting?

Maybe one day we’ll meet, and we can sail off into the sunset together - at this, you stopped breathing altogether; that definitely felt like flirting to you - on The Firebolt. Mischief Managed? Maybe I’d call it The Patronus. I’ve got some time to come up with the perfect name, but it’ll definitely be Harry Potter themed. 

We won’t be sailing anywhere before you answer my next question: What exactly is your job? I don’t think I’ve ever had a “handler” before.

You could have been reading and rereading Shawn’s notes for one minute or ten - you lost track of time until you heard the jiggle of a doorknob, and you practically jumped out of your skin. Someone was opening the door to Shawn’s room. For a fleeting second, you wondered whether you should hide. But you knew that idea was ridiculous the moment it crossed your mind - imagine if Shawn opened his closet to find you tucked down beneath his clothes? You would look like a crazy stalker. No, you had every right to be in his room - it was your job to be there - and it was bound to happen anyway. Eventually. You just weren’t ready for it to be today, right now, that you’d meet him.

The door opened before you had time to move, and in walked a tall blonde woman with a large tote bag slung over her shoulder. She was beautiful, and you knew instantly who she was. When her eyes connected with yours, a surprised expression crossed her features. You could see her calculating the situation - you, a woman not much older than her world-famous rockstar son, were sitting on the bed in that rockstar’s hotel room as though waiting for him - and you hastily wanted to correct the conclusion that seemed to settle itself awkwardly across her face.

“Mrs. Mendes!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and stuffing Shawn’s note in your back pocket. You crossed the room quickly, reaching out a hand toward her - to shake her hand or take her bag, you weren’t sure.

“Hello,” she replied cautiously, still confused by your presence in her son’s hotel room. She wasn’t naive by any means, but she was still a mom being confronted by a strange woman in her son’s bedroom. She reached for your hand.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, shaking her hand. “We spoke on the phone last week.” Realization began to dawn on Mrs. Mendes’ features. “About Shawn? And his laundry?” 

“(Y/N), of course!” she beamed, understanding that you weren’t Shawn’s latest hookup but rather an employee. “You’re the one who’s been taking such good care of my son!” At this, she pulled you in for a warm hug, which you happily returned.

“I do what I can,” you said bashfully. “Let me take that for you,” you said, motioning toward the bag on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she replied kindly. You took the bag and set it gently on the desk for her. She went to the bag and opened it, pulling from it a few objects you assumed were meant to make Shawn feel at home. “I couldn’t resist,” she said, indicating the device she had pulled from the bag. “I miss taking care of my boy,” she said in her charming Canadian/British accent. 

“I understand, Mrs. Mendes.”

“Please, (Y/N), call me Karen. We’re on the same team, after all.”

You beamed. “What is that?” you asked as Karen plugged in the device. 

“It’s a diffuser for essential oils,” she responded. “I live by my oils.” You thought you understood, now, where Shawn got his penchant for all things natural.

“I can see why,” you smiled. “I’m never doing laundry without lavender oil again.”

“You like it?” Karen asked, pleased.

“I love it! I couldn’t believe how good the laundry smelled when it came out of the dryer. I did Shawn’s and mine with lavender and I’ll never go back to regular dryer sheets.”

“So you really do Shawn’s laundry?” Karen seemed surprised. “He’s really getting the rockstar treatment now.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Karen seemed disappointed by this information, and for some reason, the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her. “Part of the job,” you muttered uncomfortably.

Karen sensed something was wrong. “Don’t get me wrong!” she said apologetically. “I often do Shawn’s laundry back home. I just worry about him,” she confessed. “This has been his life for so long,” she indicated the ritzy hotel room, “I worry about how we’re going to keep him grounded. You hear so much about the other child stars, I sometimes think that if they did their own laundry, they wouldn’t turn out so...” She trailed off, but you knew what she meant.

“I don’t think you have to worry about Shawn,” you replied in the most reassuring voice you could muster. “He seems really humble.”

Karen didn’t answer right away, distracted by the tiny bottles of oils she was pulling from her bag. You wondered what they were each supposed to do, and thought learning about essential oils might be the next task to keep you busy on a long bus ride. 

“Seems humble?” she finally asked. “What do you mean?” She looked up at the mirror above the desk to your reflection, and it felt, somehow, as though she were looking right through you.

“Well, I just mean,” you stammered, “that it always looks like he puts everyone else first. It doesn’t ever look like he thinks he’s the center of the universe. Which is pretty impressive, considering this tour is all about him, really.”

“Does he put you before himself?”

Your stomach did a flip. How could you explain your friendship-that-wasn’t-a-real-friendship to Shawn’s mom? 

“I think he would,” you replied uncomfortably, “if we ever talked to each other.” There. It wasn’t quite a lie - you’d never had a conversation with Shawn. Only notes written on scraps of hotel paper, passed back and forth between you via the pockets of jeans and the lining of bags. “I work sort of in the background,” you finished lamely. “I’ve never actually met Shawn.”

At this admission, Karen turned to face you. “I know,” she replied. “I just don’t know why.”

This would be harder to explain, but you found yourself trying anyway. “To be honest, I’m not sure there’s a really good reason anymore,” you started. “When we left for Amsterdam, I asked Andrew - he’s my boss - to hold off on introducing me to Shawn. I wanted to spend some time observing him to get to know him first. Shawn seemed like the type of guy who would go out of his way to take care of other people, and, well, it’s my job to take care of him. I think that would make him uncomfortable, and ultimately make my job harder.”

Karen nodded her head in understanding. “You’re right about that,” she admitted. “But what about now?”

You had to think about this one. You had observed Shawn enough by now to be able to anticipate his needs and wants pretty well. He knew you existed, and he knew you were the one who followed him around, packing and unpacking his luggage, washing his clothes, shopping for him, prepping the green rooms at stadiums across Europe. He’d hinted in today’s note that he wanted to meet you. “I guess it just seems easier this way,” you said lamely, knowing this wasn’t a real answer. 

“He talks about you, you know,” Karen said, catching you completely off-guard. Your head snapped up to meet her eyes, the eyes you’d been avoiding as you answered her question. “He tells us about the things you’ve done for him.” You could feel your cheeks heat up. “You’ll have to give me that tea recipe, he went on and on about it. Said it was a miracle.”

“I can write it down for you,” you said, happy for the change in subject.

“Just text it to me,” she said. “You have my number, right?” You nodded. “I do hope you’ll use it.”

You knew why Shawn loved his mom so much. It was true that he probably couldn’t get away with anything around her; she was too smart, too observant. But despite the fact that she could apparently see right through you, she didn’t push. She told you just enough to let you know she knew there was more to your story, but didn’t pry or make you feel bad about holding back. You knew she would listen if - when - you wanted to talk.

 ---------------------------------------------------

Shawn was on a high unlike any other when he finally crashed in his hotel room that night. The show had been as perfect as a show could get, and his parents had been there to see it for the first time. They’d had an incredible dinner together, and he’d hugged on both of his parents enough to satisfy him for the next month on tour. He fell into his bed, grinning from ear to ear. What a night.

He was almost too distracted to notice that he didn’t get a reply from you. He went to sleep wondering where he would find your next note.

Taglist | @librarianct, @5secondsofjade4499, @theetherealbloom, @lukesmyaesthetic

[cianmars]

The Bookworms and the Library  Chapter 3: House Hunting AO3

James had never been so exhausted and so happy before. It was fall yet he stood in their new bookstore in a t-shirt: he was boiling- the heat in the place was malfunctioning so it felt like summer in there- despite this he was over the moon because they were nearly ready to open. He was shelving the first of the books as he waited for the guy to fix the heat.

He heard the bell above the shop door ring and he turned, expecting to see the heater-guy, but it was Belle. He placed the books on the shelf and crossed his arms over his chest, he looked at her with raised eyebrows, barely concealing his amusement. “Aren’t you meant to be finding your dream house, y’know not working here?”

Belle let out a loud sigh. She let her hand rest on the baby bump, which was protruding out from under her sweater. “I’ve been trying to but they all suck.”

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” He was cut off by her thrusting flyers for the houses into his hand. He flicked through them, pulling a face as he did so. “Okay, you’re right these are shit, this one doesnt even have a roof!”

“I know!”

“Are these seriously the only ones around town? Davey said they saw nice ones when they were looking, and David may have grown up in a barn, but I know Snow at least has some standards - I doubt she would have looked at any of these.”

Belle let out another sigh and fell into a plastic covered armchair. “Most of the empty buildings around here belong to Rumple, the ones I know about anyway.” She explained.

James frowned. He moved to lean against a desk next to where Belle was sat. He looked down at her with the protective worry of a best friend. “He won’t sell one to you?”

“He probably would, but it’s awkward, and I want to find my own home, I want…”

She trailed off but he understood, she wanted to be in control, at least as much as she could while having to co-parent with him for the next 18 years. James nodded at her and stayed silent for a minute, in thought. “I could ask Snow if she still has the flyers for the other houses, if you like? I’m pretty sure that most of the places weren’t being sold by Rumple.”

Belle took a second to think before giving him a smile. “That would be good, thank you.” She reached over and squeezed his hand.

James had already been feeling hot, but having her hold his hand felt like a fire was starting inside of him, not necessarily dangerous more like a camp fire or the hearth of a home. He gave her a quick smile and pulled out his phone to text his sister in law, pulling his hand away from Belle as he did so.

He had a text from Snow within fifteen minutes, pictures of flyers for houses, all of which looked promising, all in different styles. He passed his phone over to Belle who grinned and started to show him houses she liked best, or pointing out some of the good features of the houses, he didn’t quite understand all of it but she seemed excited so he shared in it.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

James did a double take. “Where? Oh, to look at the houses?”

“Yeah, I might need some help judging them, or measuring things up- plus you can get out of this oven.”

James thought for a second, as of late he was constantly trying to evaluate his actions, trying desperately to not push too far, to stay friends without showing his crush, without her realising how much he truly cared for her…. But one look at her hopeful face and… “Okay. Just give me a couple of minutes to get ready.”

Without caring or thinking he took off his t-shirt.

Belle watched as he did so, she should look away, she should really look away. At the centre of his chest, among a litter of other scars, a large, harsh, jagged scar stood out   and was mirrored on his back: she winced at it without realising. She knew that he hadn’t been a good man when he died: he had spent money on dallances while his kingdom starved, he had killed giants, and left his ex girlfriend to die while he saved himself. But he had been the sword King George had forged through abuse when he was still a child. He had died for his crimes. Yet when he died he had chosen to work against Hades, he had seen the suffering of the dead people, he had chosen to become good. And when his niece led her family and friends to the underworld to save her love, Killian, he had helped them, and as a result he had later been rewarded a new life. Even now he was trying his best to be a good man.

And he was a good man, he had a couple of issues, she supposed, but he was working on them with Archie and on his own, he was kind, and caring, and funny, and although he tried to help her with my issues she had he also let her work on things on her own. He understood her need to be an individual. He understood her completely. And she understood him. He was her best friend in a way which she hadn’t had one before.  

Before she knew it he had a sweater on ready to go out to look at houses with her, for her, which somehow made her feel lonelier, it was just her and her unborn baby now.

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Belle could hear her feet echoing on the tile as she walked around the house.

“This is, it’s big?” James offered trying to be upbeat. He watched Belle take some steps around the living area of the open plan first floor. “I know Neal has a lot of stuff and he’s four, Dave says he had even more stuff when he was a baby, you could do with this.”

“Yeah... yeah the space is good.” Belle agreed, she smiled at him but frowned when she looked back at the place. “There’s a lot of light too, which I guess is to be expected with the giant windows.”

James frowned. “Y’know, your fake happy voice needs a bit of work.” He smirked when she looked at him surprised that he had figured out she was faking it. “I know you Belle.” He explained with a shrug.

“Yeah… yeah I guess you do.” She sent him a small smile. She looked him over once again, sure he wasn’t shirtless now, and had a chunky sweater on hiding his abs and his scars… but he still looked nice, really nice in fact. He had a nice smile, a nice face in fact. It was weird because she had never looked at David like that, yet here James was looking so… and he was meant to be identical to David but Belle felt entirely different about him, his personality, his face, his body. Not that she was thinking about it, about him like that, she was pregnant, and everything with Rumple, plus her and James were friends and business partners ; she couldn’t chance screwing all that up.

“So, what do you want?”

“What?” Her eyes went wide. Shit, had she said it out loud? Shit, shit, shit.

“The… house… what type of house are you wanting? Are you feeling okay, Belle, you look a little pale?” He walked over to her, frowning in concern, should he feel her temperature or something?

“Sorry baby brain.” She lied.

“You get that before the baby is even born?!”

“Yeah, it’s erm, well, the human body’s weird.”

“Do you need to take a break or some air or, I don’t know, what helps?”

“I’m fine now, thanks James. I don’t know what sort of house.”

“Old or new?”

“Old, but not so old that it doesn’t have heat and electric and like a leaky roof.”

“Okay, so this one is out, there’s two other ones which are older but not too old. Keep your head up, we’re going to find you a new home today, I promise.”

Belle grinned at him. “I know you pretend to be all grumpy and serious and scary but you’re really sweet.”

James looked at her with laughter in his face and eyes. “Just don’t tell anyone else that, I have a reputation to keep.” The two shared a look and a smile.

They were both falling even though they had sworn to themselves that they wouldn’t.

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The second place was a lot better suited to Belle. It was a cottage, not too small, it was nice, not falling down or a shack. It was on the edge of town, down a long dirt path in the woods.

“Hey, this place even has a proper fireplace, not like those ‘radiator’ things!” James called to her from the living room.

Belle beamed, running her hand along the top of the kitchen counter. “And the kitchen is amazing.” She stated when he came to see it. “And there’s plenty of room upstairs for me and the baby.”

James grinned and opened the backdoor to look at the yard. “The flyer said you get a lot of land, I think that means all the trees, and that big lake.”

“There’s a lake?!” Belle rushed over, squeezing into the doorway with him, she leant into his side.

James wrapped his arm around her to stop her from falling. “Yeah. I once went on an adventure of sorts, it was the first time I had to sail on my own. Did you know that it’s tiring to row a boat?”

Belle tried her best to hide her smile, but failed, quite spectacularly. “Yeah, I have some experience with rowing boats and adventures too.” She smiled when he looked impressed.

“Though you’ll have to fence it off within a year or so, with a little tyke being around here.”

Belle frowned. “Yeah you’re right. How much of the land is mine?” James shrugged so she brought out her phone to look at the plans online. “There’s no signal.”

James took out his phone. “Mine too.” He moved around a bit. “So, you remember that moving pic- movie, the one you forced me to watch, the erm, the horror one?” He asked slowly.

“Oh shit.” Belle looked around the place with new eyes. “I’ll be part of a horror movie.”

“I wouldn't be able to stop you from getting this place… but I’d rather you didn’t die; you’re kind of my only friend, my best friend in fact, and my partner- business partner.”

Belle’s heart skipped a beat until he quickly said business partner, then her heart, curiously, fell. She quickly regained her composure and smiled up at him. She lowered her hand, the back of her hand brushed against the back of his, as they stood side by side. Don’t, she had to remind herself. “Yeah, I think you’re right, I don’t know how you’d survive without me.”

James laughed, loudly and freely, as he could only around those he loved the most, and he always laughed louder and freer around Belle.

Belle watched him for a half second before laughing with him.

At their sides Belle took hold of his hand.

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As soon as Belle stepped foot into the front yard of the last place Belle knew it was the one. It was a contemporary beach house, or that’s what the flyer for it had said, and it wasn’t that far from the beach so she supposed it was fitting. It was grey stone at the bottom and white paneling on the rest of it. There were wooden troughs out the front one with flowers in and another with signs saying the vegetables which were busy growing under the soil. The garden was fenced in but it didn’t feel imprisoning like the first place they had looked at.

“Woah.”

Belle had almost forgotten that she was there with James. She looked up at him, taking in his face of complete wonder, Belle had grown up in a castle but it was nowhere near as splendid as the one James had grown up in she was wondering how he was so impressed by this. “You like this place?”

“Of course! I mean imagine this place a year or two in the future; you and the little one out making snow angels, or planting flowers and fruit and vegetables, teaching him the names of birds, or looking for bugs.”

Belle watched his eyes sparkling as he spoke, he was watching the house so intently she could almost see the scenes playing in his head, she remembered that this wasn’t the spoiled prince she heard her father speaking about in the Enchanted Forest, this was her James, he was a good and kind man, she wondered if he would ever settle down and start a family of his own. She looked at the garden and found that she could imagine what James had said to her. She placed her hands on her stomach. She couldn’t feel her baby but she knew he was safe in there, and he would be safe in this garden, even if she couldn’t imagine the baby being a month old, let alone two years old. “Let’s head inside.”

James led the way up the stairs to the porch and held the door open for Belle to walk through first. “My Lady.”

Belle smiled to herself and walked through the door. “Thank you, kind sir.”

James felt proud, he knew she’d understand his reference, she was the one who had made him watch all of Community after all. He noticed her eyes widening and her smile grow before he even looked inside of the house. He had to remind himself, again, to watch himself: he had a penance to serve, it was self imposed but as serious as any. He quickly turned his head to look at the house instead.

He understood why Belle was smiling, it really looked like the perfect family home. It was nearly open plan, there was a wall and a corner separating the areas of the living room and kitchen. The kitchen was modern and full, perfect for cooking and baking, there was a big table. James couldn’t help but imagining Belle sat there, with a book and her breakfast, the baby in a highchair, and James was there too. He subtly shook his head, he was being stupid, he was her friend, and that’s all he would be.

He walked after Belle, smiling as she happily pointed out all the different things she loved, and he added things which she knew she liked, there was a little conservatory bit which he wandered to.

“Hey Belle look at this.”

“Woah, I could see the sea from here!”

“You could fill it with bookcases and comfortable chairs and you could read while you look out at the sea.” He pointed out. “With your little one playing, or if he’s like you he’ll be reading.”

Belle’s smile brightened even more, if possible. She nudged her shoulder against his. “You’ll have to come around too, if you’re not too sick of seeing us at the bookstore all the time.”

James’ eyes met Belle’s. “I’d never get sick of you. Either of you.”

There was a pregnant pause. Belle went on her tiptoes, their faces were an inch away, Belle could see into his sparkling blue eyes, the way his tongue flickered out over his bottom lip…. No. No, she couldn’t.

She turned back into the main house. “Let’s look upstairs.”

James took a deep breath in. He had nearly bent his head down to kiss her… he had nearly…. Fuck. He needed to control himself better. He was clearly reading too much into Belle’s actions. She had just been trying to get a better look at things a little higher up. He ran his hand through his hair before allowing himself to smooth out his features and continue to follow Belle.

The looked at the bedrooms, of which there were four, there was a little office, and a family bathroom, along with an en-suite attached to the master bedroom. There was plenty of room, storage, and views from what would be the baby’s room of what James saw as the perfect garden.

“You’ve got to get this place.” He told her looking out of the window.

He turned around and saw Belle looking at her phone, she was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Erm, I’m just not sure. It might be a little too far from the bookstore.”

“It’s about a twenty minute drive, it’s not that far, and it’s not like you have certain hours to keep anyway.”

“Okay, but it’s, it’s too big.”

“You did say that you wanted a place you could stay in forever no matter how big your family grew.”

“But what if it’s too small?”

“Belle, what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Something’s going on, you loved this house until you looked at your cell phone, did Gold say something? Or Moe?”

Belle let out a loud sigh.”It’s far from the centre of town… from you. I’ll see you in work but otherwise it’ll be hard to see you.”

James felt her words like a stab in his heart. “You think… You think that just because you’re moving further away I won’t be able to see you much anymore?”

“No. Well, yes, no- but you’re going to be far away, you’re not going to be able to easily walk here every day like you do while I’m living above the library. When I have the new baby I’m not going to be able to get to work and see you there every day, there are going to be times where I’ll probably be housebound maybe for a couple of weeks where I just won’t be able to see you-”

Belle’s rambling stopped as James’ calloused hands cupped her cheeks so gently that she wasn’t sure if he was actually touching her or not. His hands on her cheeks forced her to look straight into his stormy blue eyes. They were close enough that she could feel his breath caressing her skin.

“Do you really think that I would let a little distance stop me from seeing you?” He asked her, his voice was soft, and a little hurt by her even possibly thinking that. “I’ve been getting David to teach me how to drive, I have my test next week.” He admitted. “I figured that you might need some help being driven to places before and after you’ve had the baby. And if I’m in this realm for good, I should probably learn, I tried in the underworld but it wasn’t that successful- anyway,” he shook his head turning his attention back to what he had been meaning to say, “Belle, I’m going to be visiting you so much that you’re going to be bored and sick of me. You’re close enough to Davey’s house that I can just escape him being annoying when I visit by ducking out to see you instead.”

“You love your brother.”

“Yeah, I guess, but that doesn’t mean he’s not the most annoying person in the world.” He smiled at her, the smile only grew as she raised her hand and held onto his wrist as his hands were still on her face. “Belle this house is the most perfect house I’ve ever seen. You need to buy it.”

“As long as you promise that you’ll be around a lot.”

“I swear it.” His head ducked down a little.

Belle tilted her head back, moved it towards his, she went onto her tiptoes….

The jumped apart as the door to the baby’s room opened and the estate agent walked in. “So, what do you two think? This would make an amazing nursery, I’m sure you’ll be having even more as soon as possible, I can tell just from looking at you.”

James’ cheeks and ears flushed pink, his hand went to the back of his head, running his hand through his hair, a nervous tick he shared with his brother. He was about to open his mouth to explain, yet again, that they were just friends and he was just helping her, but he remembered Belle’s face as she explained again and again that she was a single mother, and how the estate agents always looked after she said so. He dropped his hand to his side and gently took Belle’s hand in his own, giving it a comradely squeeze

“Yes, this place is perfect. Though knowing Belle she’ll have several questions to ask you before she signs.” He gave the estate agent a dazzling smile, he watched he blush with pride, until he remembered how he had used that smile as a weapon in the Enchanted forest. He felt nauseous, the smile immediately disappeared from his face.  

He watched Belle follow the estate agent down to the kitchen to talk, and he trailed slowly behind them. The nausea he felt remembering his past deeds reminded him of his solemn promise to make amends. He couldn’t be selfish and chase after his own happiness after he had destroyed so many others’ lives and happy endings.

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Later, after Belle signed for the house and James treated her to dinner, James let on his back on his couch alone in his apartment- which just didn't seem like home after spending all day with Belle, he heard his phone chime, Snow asking how the house search went.

He frowned staring at Snow's comment 'Not what I meant', he didn't understand what she could possibly mean unless... unless... no, that's impossible, he was subtle about liking, loving, Belle, there was no way she could guess let alone know... No, Snow must have meant something else, he just didn't know what.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Homestuck Liveblog #184

UPDATE 184: Individuality According to Dirk Strider

Last time Dirk took over not only Rose, but also the entire narrative of this epilogue. What will be the consequences of such a thing? Well, he can control the story to some extent, for one. One of his actions was to make Jade fall unconscious, from what I understood, so let’s now continue.

The next page has Jade, but it’s a different one. It’s the Jade that was in the fight with Lord English, the one who is now drifting in the middle of nowhere, near the black hole. I suppose she survived the shard of reality impaling her on the back. Either that or she’s on the verge of death, like John is. I’ll take solace on that the odds the reality shard is poisoned are pretty low.

For a moment, she has the feeling that she’s recalling something. Images and sounds in her head that resemble memories. But the memories aren’t hers, exactly. They seem to be someone else’s. There’s an older version of Roxy... someone with a cheerful green skull for a head, who was... Roxy’s girlfriend? Something about an election. No, this doesn’t make any sense at all. The memories are slipping away, anyway. Quickly, they dissolve, and soon they’re completely out of her mind’s reach, like she’s waking from a dream. Just like that, they’re gone.

That sounds like it could be what Dirk and Rose were experiencing, visions of alternate selves. I wonder, though, perhaps Dirk’s the one sending said vision onto Jade? Heck, maybe he’s been doing this for much longer than I thought, and he’s the one who has been tormenting Rose, all so she would go talk to him and he’d have the chance to take over her. It’s plausible, I’d say.

Since she’s floating around half-dead, she has some time to think, and among the thoughts that may or may not be all hers, there’s something that gets my attention.

And she just fought Lord English after being plucked out of a doomed timeline.

For a while I had forgotten that those from doomed timelines are, well, doomed. John took with him a bunch of doomed people to fight Lord English. No wonder they died, really. Not that recruiting everyone from Earth C would have been more palatable, because he’d be placing at risk the versions of his friends who live in a peaceful Earth. There just wasn’t a perfect choice here.

For a moment I thought maybe Dirk had manipulated Rose and gave John instructions to make things go the way he wanted – including John most likely dying, given how Dirk thinks of him as useless and unremarkable – but then I remembered it was stated Dirk took over Rose during their conversation.

Something’s calling for Jade, right from the center of the black hole. It’s beckoning her, so she gets flying towards the black hole. Is that a good thing?

Oh! A red word in middle of everything! Dave red. I’m surprised! I didn’t think Dave would have the ability to mess with the narration too, but it makes sense. Striders, go!

She considers asking who is speaking, but her mouth stays shut, powerless against the forces transfixing her. Jade has no way of knowing who this voice belongs to. She has no context for understanding the true nature of this being, what role she has played in bringing about the end, and how long she has been waiting for this. She has no idea. But I do.

The dead cherub is making her move.

Hm. I’m a liiiittle bit concerned. The text is red, indicating it’s Caliborn. However, it’s not on ALL CAPS, like I remember Caliborn writes. Calliope is the only other option, and she’d write with green if she used color. Odd, hm...I guess I’ll know for sure which cherub this is when a word with U is shown.

You know a page’s not going to be fun when the very first lines are about someone being xenophobic – supposedly. It’s not like it was shown what it was. Sigh.

Apparently what caused potentially xenophobic comments was the mother grub being generally unpleasant to see. Cultural shock, I’ll say, it really was insensitive. I sure wouldn’t think a mother grub doing her thing is a nice sight, but you just don’t say that kind of thing aloud! Inner monologues are such a blessing. But hey, it’s the rebirth of trolls, this pretty much marks the success of everything Karkaroni and the rest of the trolls worked for. Only three of the original twelve are seeing the final result, but it’s worth it anyway.

So, why the description of the mother grub laying slurry from its ovipositional sphincter stuff is somehow less disgusting than the description of John eating meat? It’s kind of incongruent.

Ah, right, Kanaya is here, watching over the mother grub, and questions why they’re here, if it wasn’t to make quips about the mother grub’s performance. They’re here to convince Kanaya to join them into their political adventure, I figure. I’m not sure how Kanaya will react to that, but I don’t think she’ll eagerly support it. If she does it’ll be because of Karkaroni, though.

DAVE: im dropping a beat

DAVE: like im using a turntable and scratching one song into another

DAVE: all smooth and shit

KARKAT: IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO FOLD LAUNDRY YOU FORGOT TO IRON.

This amused me so much because that’s such a fun description of Dave’s gesture. It all reminds me I like Karkaroni a lot, what a colorful character he is.

Of course Kanaya was already aware of the election, and is impressed Karkaroni didn’t burst into flames with everyone watching him. Hah! Karkaroni replies to this gentle jab with a harsher remark about Kanaya’s like-blooded ancestors. Kind of a low blow, but nothing Kanaya can’t deal with what after so many years of being friends with Karkaroni.

She says Karkaroni has her utmost faith but that’s not the same as wanting to endorse him. I think if necessary she would, but it definitely isn’t a promise. She admits everything Karkaroni said concerns her, and Dirk takes the time to give a compliment about how Potential President Karkat can’t take compliments directly. The warm feelings cease when Kanaya mentions Jane already passed by to talk, though.

KANAYA: You Know I Do Like Jane

KANAYA: In Some Regards She Reminds Me Of A Friend We Had Who Sadly Did Not Survive Our Time On The Meteor

KANAYA: She Was Unfailingly Kind To Everyone She Met But She Also Happened To Be The Heiress To The Throne Of A Vast And Bloody Empire

KANAYA: And While She Had A Lot Of Opinions On Reform She Had Already Wrenched Some Of Her Power From Our Last Empress In The Traditional Manner

Feferi? Yeah, she was rather sweet, for troll standards. That said, I don’t think she was ‘unfailingly kind’. I mean, one of the few memories I have of her is she calling Jade stupid in a dream because she didn’t realize Feferi was dead. Hard to say someone’s unfailingly kind when the one interaction with somebody who wasn’t a troll was that, from what I remember. To her credit, she did show concern and care towards most of the trolls, so there’s that, at least.

KANAYA: By Which I Mean That Jane Is Perfectly Pleasant And I Believe That She Has Only The Best Of Intentions

KANAYA: But I Cant Shake The Feeling That Deep Inside Her Lurks The Potential For Despotism

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, they say. The saying in its usual meaning doesn’t apply to this, buuuut even though Jane has bad intentions, the result of said good intentions may not be the best for everyone. It’s a shame that so far it’s increasingly clear Jane’s supposed to be treated like she’s 100% in the wrong and should be shunned. My opinion is that maybe it’d be more interesting if it wasn’t so...black and white. That’s how things seem to me from what I have read so far, at least.

KARKAT: BUT FUCKING FEFERI? SHE WAS HARMLESS.

KANAYA: These Things Take Time To Gestate Karkat

DAVE: damn

KANAYA: Power Corrupts In Small Steps

KANAYA: Compromises

KANAYA: Concessions

KANAYA: Appeasements

KANAYA: And Leaders Follow The Example Set For Them

KANAYA: Look At What Jane Has Modeled Herself After Already

KANAYA: I Do Believe Its Important To Consider Precedent

I guess Kanaya would know better than me when it’s about troll culture, buuuut if I had to guess, Feferi would be a bit of an unpopular empress at first, given how different her policies of ‘don’t cull everyone’, but it’d be matter of time before trolls more amenable to her policies and ideas would exist, so I suppose at least for the first century or two she’d have to have a tough hand and maybe even use force to make things change. It’d be pretty close to fascism, admittedly.

Ooooh boy, Kanaya laughed, not kindly. That’s a no to the endorsement. Is she on Jane’s train, then?

KANAYA: Jane Offered Me “A Seat” On The “Board Of Responsible Troll Reproduction”

KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK. HOW DARE SHE!

KANAYA: That Is Exactly What I Said

KANAYA: With More Tact Of Course

Board of responsible troll reproduction? That’s rather controlling. Jane, stop following the Condesce’s style, goodness.

The trolls are rather indignant at Jane’s tactless ideas, best intentions be damned, so it’s likely once anyone who isn’t human hears about it they’ll vote for Karkat. So from what I’m reading, this is starting to shape up into humans vs non-humans in general. That’s a rather delicate situation, no wonder it was said the peace in Earth C was so fragile.

I keep noticing Kanaya is dodging the topic of giving or not giving endorsement, even though that topic is touched she always has a way to go in a tangent. Look at her and learn a thing about smoothly changing topics, Dave, she’s good at this.

Apparently Rose has been distant with Dave, and he thinks she either is sick or she’s pregnant. Ah. Well that’s a thought I’d rather not to delve into, thanks for the weird thoughts, Dave. Take a hint from the trolls staring at you. Kanaya seems to feel guilty about something, and I’m not sure if Rose would have told her or not about the headaches and the unraveling of her powers and stuff. She even decides to call Rose right now.

Dirk answers, alarming Kanaya, who stays calm for diplomatic purposes. No answers come because John is doing something vaguely important to the plot again. Hah! Part of me is just imagining Dirk saw Kanaya was calling and because it’d be so awkward and bothersome to have to explain or make excuses, he made John do something just so he could get out of the conversation. But hey, no complaints from me! Moving the plot forward is good.

John’s vaguely important plot actions involve thinking about how everyone should become one powerful person, apparently. Is that your final objective, Dirk? Do you want everyone to become one person?

...

That kind of makes Jane’s presidential ambitions be a lot more sinister, since Dirk is so into them. I can’t rule out the possibility Jane winning the election would be an important step towards that goal, supposing he really intends to do such a thing.

Enough shoving strange thoughts into John’s head because he needs to focus on Meenah talking to him. She’s alive and not inside a black hole! Neato. What’s up, Lord English is dead. Rejoice!

There’s more silence than conversation here because they don’t know each other at all, unless you count John getting stabbed with a trident once or twice. Since this is a veeeery awkward conversation, he instead asks if she knows where Jade is, and Meenah doesn’t even know who Jade is. This conversation is just going nowhere.

This is without a doubt one of the worst conversations you’ve had in many, many years. And you aren’t just thinking that because I’m telling you you are.

When he’s right he’s right! More awkwardness ensues. They’re two strangers talking, pretty much.

JOHN: so what’s your plan now?

MEENAH: plan

JOHN: yeah.

JOHN: you just gonna hang around here, in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing forever?

MEENAH: thats what ghosts is most good at aint they

JOHN: you don’t have to stay here.

JOHN: i can take you back with me, to my planet.

JOHN: i mean, after we’re done looking for more survivors.

Is that possible? Can a ghost be among the living, just like that? Oh, right, John has the ring of life he took from Aranea. He could give it to Meenah and she’d be alive again. Is it a good idea, though? Do they want Meenah around? That’s what I’m not very sure about, because Meenah really doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d enjoy a peaceful existence with everyone else, or...as peaceful as it’ll get with everything that’s going on in Earth C.

Meenah points out correctly she’s a ghost and can’t exist over there in that planet, and she thought of her own plan, anyway. John gets close enough for her to whisper and then she leaves. John then thinks of checking his pockets and realizes the ring has been stolen. Pretty surprising it didn’t fall out of John’s pocket at some point given how much he was moving and getting bitten around. This is why you should captchalogue things instead of storing things in your pocket like some plebian, John!

Now that I think about it, captchaloguing simply stopped being a thing like in the middle of Act 6. Not that I’m complaining, really.

So, it turned out John’s vaguely important plot stuff was he getting the ring stolen by Meenah, so now that it’s done, Dirk can return to the conversation with Kanaya. How do you explain to someone her bride is unconscious after you pretty much started mind-controlling her? I suppose you don’t?

He totally isn’t explaining a thing. For someone who considers himself so clever and forward-planning what with the assimilation plan, he’s pretty awful at not keeping things going smoothly. Pretty bad traits for someone planning to possibly assimilate someone into one being.

DIRK: Sorry, Rose can’t come to the phone right now.

DIRK: She is otherwise... occupied.

KANAYA: Where Is She

DIRK: She’s at my place.

KANAYA: Im Sorry What

KANAYA: Rose Is Extremely Ill And Should Not Be Leaving The House Alone

KANAYA: What Is She Doing At Your Place

DIRK: Chillaxing, whilst we discuss the inevitable heat death of the universe and the unknowable, solitary nature of human consciousness.

KANAYA: I See

KANAYA: If She Is Capable Of Such Abstract Polemics Why Is It That She Cannot Speak With Me

DIRK: That’s a damned good question.

DIRK: One that will undoubtedly benefit from further exploration over the course of the next abstract polemic I have with her.

Goddamnit, Dirk. You could have just said she’s in the bathroom and that’d have worked slightly better than this!

Dirk’s taunting and messing around makes Kanaya decide she’ll get Rose, and once the call is over, Rose starts waking up. She doesn’t seem very under-Dirk’s-control right now, but she’s not okay. Maybe it’s a slow process or something.

John currently is wandering around, pondering if he should do surgery on the golden tooth stuck on his chest with a straight razor, and finding Jade’s shoes. He also finds Terezi. There she is! Wandering aaaaall the way out of the peaceful world, apparently. Either way, in this one paragraph I have compressed one entire page.

Apparently while they want for Kanaya Dirk’s making Rose discuss abstract polemics. I’m pretty sure that’s Dirk talking through her, because although Rose’s plenty verbose, I don’t think discussing philosophy while being sick is something she’d be eager to do. Also, she’s touching the topics of individuality, which is pretty relevant to Dirk right now. May as well listen, so I can understand a little better why Dirk’s doing all this.

Who the heck is Kierkegaard.

I’m going to be honest: reading philosophy being spouted with a straight face isn’t really what I was looking for in a liveblog. I feel a bit bad for scrolling through while all these orange and purple words fly over my head, buuuuut I don’t think liveblogging the intricacies of philosophical concepts is going to be interesting or fun, so I’m sparing everyone – and myself.

Oh, something I can bite into.

ROSE: I think free will is a thing, sure.

DIRK: Are you sure about that?

ROSE: ...

DIRK: Haven’t we spent the entire day having a feelings jam on how none of us got here by accident?

DIRK: Our lives were meticulously planned from clone-ception up through this very post-canon moment we find ourselves riffing in about the very free will we probably don’t even have.

DIRK: Don’t you think it’s all a little too convenient?

I mean, it’s a bit difficult to say there’s not a predetermined plan for these characters. If you don’t go through a series of actions, you’re in a doomed timeline and therefore you die. It’s hard not to go along the predetermined path when it’s either that or death. The only exception is John, who got powers of retcon and was able to jump around changing things to create the new predetermined path, but even then it’s possible the universe at a whole had determined that would happen and just nudged things in that direction.

Then again, when it’s about fiction there’s no free will. The author’s words and thoughts are the predetermined path. Authors are little gods creating their universe, so yeah, characters have no free will. Oh, look what you have done, Dirk, now I’m spouting philosophical nonsense, you sly fox. Won’t lie, typing all that just from a stream of thought was kind of fun. So that’s why the Striders enjoy being verbose.

Dirk keeps Rose lying down on the couch, proving he has full control of the narrative and therefore decides what happens and what doesn’t. He’s the author now and therefore the predetermined path is the one he creates. Oh there I go again, stop baiting me into philosophical hackneyed nonsense, Dirk.

The words ‘Ultimate Self’ and Dirk’s plan to possibly assimilate everyone into one god seem like they’re related, no? Maybe Dirk considers his Ultimate Self to be his goal, and it involves total assimilation. Pretty grim scenario, really.

Dirk makes Rose expand her mind, and she can see what John is doing right now.

ROSE: He could have made another choice.

DIRK: Then where would we be?

ROSE: Who knows.

The Candy epilogue, perhaps? I’m not sure how things would have changed based on that decision, but hey, butterfly effect stories are fun.

I’m not going to describe what she sees. First of all, that would be spoiling it. Unless you already know, in which case, I guess what’s taking place here qualifies as something closer to dramatic irony. But if you really want to see it for yourself, stop what you’re doing, flip the whole thing over, and begin again. I’ll be right here when you get back, waiting. Trust me, no one’s going anywhere.

Is this an indication I should go take a look at the candy epilogue now? It sounds like it is. I wonder if I should...but no, I have decided to see this through to the end. I’m already halfway done, may as well finish it.

If what Rose is saying is a reference to the events of the Candy epilogue, it doesn’t sound like they’re faring much better than the Meat epilogue. Sooooo the characters are generally screwed and are going to suffer either way. For people who spent three years in a game to create a new universe and get their happy lives that sure sucks.

Ah, here he is, I can see this is the moment where Dirk has finally assimilated Rose. It’s over for her. All that’s left is a condescending guy funneling pretentious thoughts into her. I liked Rose’s pretentious thoughts better. Next page!

Dirk’s narration when he’s talking about someone else’s supposed thoughts and actions is pretty exhausting. I find myself going faster and faster, and not because I’m invested in what he’s saying. Having Dirk as a narrator was a bad decision, he’s just on the same level than Doc Scratch was. Still not really enjoying the epilogue much.

He’s trying to stop her from going deeper into the black hole, and he’s failing. Not even the narrative is powerful enough to stop that, because there’s a stronger being trying to control parts of the narrative, the dead cherub trying to do this with red words. There was a U but it’s not any different from the rest of the text. The red text sounds courteous enough instead of Caliborn’s IRREVERENT SHOUTING so I suppose it’s Calliope, or at least a version of her. She beckons Jade deeper and deeper, until she’s irreversibly caught by the black hole and dragged in, much to Dirk’s frustration. There she goes! I’m curious what’ll happen with Jade, I admit!

Oho, the dead cherub is not only taking over the narration related to Jade in the black hole, they also are trying to take over the narration for the Jade in Earth C, the one who passed out in front of Roxy and Calliope.

ROXY: omg!

ROXY: jade

ROXY: jade u ok?

ROXY: callie hurry shes wakin up

JADE: j... john? rose??

JADE: is dave...?

JADE: wh...

JADE: what happened to.....

ROXY: yo its ok

ROXY: daves cool

ROXY: rose is cool

ROXY: everyones just straight chillin like usual

Huh! This feels kinda like the Jade in the black hole is being funneled into the Jade in Earth C. Are they fusing together, perhaps?

Dirk really doesn’t like that he can’t figure out what the dead cherub’s goal with the narrative is, and wastes his narrative grip by fuming about it while the dead cherub actually moves things along. It seems the Jade in Earth C is receiving the memories of her doomed black hole self. Maaaaaybe the doomed ghost versions of people getting caught in the black hole is that causes the headaches and visions. On the other hand, that’d require a lot of Roses and Dirks and Jades to be sucked into the black hole, and last I checked the ghost army was exclusively made of trolls. True, the black hole isn’t tied to the normal flow of time, so maybe it has expanded enough it has sucked a lot of doomed versions of the humans already.

Jade’s eyes are completely black. Alright, that wasn’t expected.

jade does not answer. the dead cherub scans her surroundings, expression neutral.

for the sake of clarity, the dead cherub is a phrase i am using in reference to myself. presently, i inhabit jade’s body, and through her i may influence this world.

Ah, nevermind, the dead cherub’s hijacking people around now. At least I can take solace on that it’s unlikely they have the same goal than Dirk. They even call him megalomaniac, which isn’t really wrong. They also call him a threat to the continued existence of the world and corporeal life, which is a tad worse than I thought it’d be. Was he planning to make everyone eliminate themselves once he got the complete takeover? Dirk’s goal is worse and worse with every page, seriously.

It doesn’t seem like Jade’s able to do anything, not even think. This is just as bad for them than what Dirk did to Rose, but it’s possible Jade’s current state is reversible once the dead cherub doesn’t need her anymore. On the other hand, what Dirk did seems permanent.

Aha, it definitely is Calliope doing things here in the narrative. Neat!

Dirk sounds so salty he’s losing the battle for the narrative, Dead Calliope even uses metaphors that are familiar to him to drive home the point: he’s outclassed. Thank goodness, I was getting tired of Dirk’s narrative.

in his haste to manipulate the events surrounding doomed jade’s ascent toward an outcome favorable to himself, the prince has unwittingly revealed several glaring weaknesses. by dictating the reality of others through expressions which he and he alone can relate to, he resorts to comparing all experience to his own. presuming his status on this side of my horizon would forever go unchallenged, his hubris went unchecked. he exposed too much of himself to all who could observe his wanton display of self-gratification. many of his personal biases and experiences have leaked through the seams of textual causality, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation by an adversary.

I’m not very sure what she means, but what’s clear is that Dirk brought this to himself, he’s the one who left the opening and enabled Dead Calliope to strike. He has nobody to blame but himself. A+ work, Dirk, try again. It also helps that Dead Calliope has more experiences with the vastness of metaphysical and narrative stuff than Dirk does, and isn’t as scared of it all as he is. If she’ll spend quite some time dunking on Dirk’s efforts I’m all for it. He deserves all the dunking he can get. Look at his tiny font, getting saltier and saltier. I’m enjoying this more, I have to say!

This seems like a good point to stop, now that we have a new narrator. Alright, until next time!

Next update: next time

[klaineharmony]

Sneak Peek: “We’ll Be There to Defend One Another,” Chapter Nine

Just for @whatstheproblembaby, because she is a kind person and encouraged me to do so. Thank you, hon! <3 It will probably be another two weeks or so before I actually update, but here is part of what is coming up:

When Jack left Sarah on the fire escape, his head was spinning.

Sarah - his brave, fearless Sarah - knew. Not only did she know, she understood, somehow. Maybe better than he did himself. And she didn’t think he was - well, he had tacitly promised her that he wouldn’t use terrible words against himself - words that had been haunting his thoughts for months - but she still loved him, didn’t love him any less because he also loved David.

I refuse to believe that the love we each feel for you, and the love you feel for us, makes any of us broken or less human.

He didn’t know how Sarah could be so adamant about believing the best of him, of David, how she could embrace this strange, undefined territory as if it was already a familiar place for her - except that he believed the best of her, too, always, and there was no one he would trust more to guide them all. Jack didn’t subscribe to any sort of religion, really - he’d seen too much of the way that people used religion as a justification for cruelty, Snyder included - but there had to be some kind of higher power out there that had brought him Sarah, and her love that was so all-encompassing.

And David. If Sarah was right (and she knew her brother better than anyone), David loved him - not just as a best friend or as soon-to-be family, but loved him, with the same kind of romantic desire Jack felt. Just contemplating it left Jack breathless and shaky.

His internal thoughts stopped abruptly as the hair on the back of his neck prickled. His ears had caught just a hint of sound, just the quietest something.

Someone was following him.

He kept walking, controlling every muscle he had in order to not betray that he had heard his pursuer. He was fairly close to the lodging house - only about four blocks - but that was still plenty of distance for someone to try and get the better of him.

He casually repositioned himself so that he was walking more directly under the line of gas streetlights, ambling as if he were simply enjoying his walk. Whoever was following him would be forced to stay in the shadows, and if they tried to jump him, they would have to expose themselves to the light.

Three blocks.

Jack caught another sound from behind him, a slight scattering of pebbles. It was coming from a different direction than the first person, and he mentally cursed. There were at least two of them, maybe more.

Two blocks.

Jack began to whistle, unconcernedly, an old tune of Medda’s that Race also played on his harmonica. It was a meaningless burlesque tune to most people, but they had long ago established it as a danger signal. If Race or any of the older newsies were near, they would know he needed help.

One block.

He heard footsteps, but they were in front of him this time, and to his relief, Racetrack appeared around the corner of the next building. He was also apparently relaxed, but Jack could see he was braced for a fight.

“Cowboy!” Race hailed him. “What’s doin’?”

“Ah, nothin’ much, Race,” Jack said. He reached up and tugged on the end of his bandana, two quick tugs, and he saw Race’s fingers brush his watch chain. “Just thought I would come see how things are.”

“You miss us that much, that you had to come visit the old joint?” Race said teasingly, but his eyes were sharp, looking behind Jack. He caught up to Jack and turned to walk with him. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Cowboy.”

“I don’t know why I thought I missed your ugly mug,” Jack snarked back, resisting his usual habit of putting an arm around Race’s shoulders. They both needed their hands free.

“Old habits die hard,” Race replied, both of them quickening their steps as the front of the lodging house came into view.

“Guess so,” Jack said. As they entered the glow of the lamps at the lodging house entrance, Jack felt the invisible spectres at his back melt away. He and Race ascended the steps, and he let out a soundless sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he said, low, as Race opened the door. “I might have been able to fight them and win, but I didn’t want to take the chance.”

“I caught sight of one of them,” Race said quietly. “He was pretty big - not as tall as you, but beefy, y’know? I couldn’t tell too much about the other one. They could have come after us both if they wanted to, though. How long were they following you?”

“About four blocks, maybe a little more,” Jack said. “They might have just wanted to see where I was goin’ - this time.”

“Is this related to what happened to Davey?”

“I think so. Who told you?”

“Freckles,” Race replied. “He saw you bring Davey home.”

“He’s a good kid. That’s why I’m here,” Jack said as they reached the foyer of the lodging house. “I need to talk to both you and Spot. Hey, Kloppman,” he greeted the older man with a grin.

“Jack,” Kloppman said, with his quiet, crooked smile. “Good to see ya.”

“You, too. Everyone behavin’ themselves around here?” he asked, raising his voice a bit and sending a sharp look at the newsies lounging in the chairs and on the staircase.

“Oh, they’re fine,” Kloppman said, giving a dismissive wave. “Race here keeps ‘em under good control.”

“You bet I do,” Racetrack said cheerfully.

“Hey, Jack,” Crutchie greeted Jack, reaching out and pulling him into a hug, which Jack returned, clapping him on the back and then giving him a hard squeeze. “How ya doin’?.”

“I’m good, buddy. Everything okay?” Jack asked.

“Everything’s good,” Crutchie nodded. “We’re all survivin’. Are we havin’ a meeting?”

“Not tonight,” Jack shook his head. “Tomorrow,  though, for sure.”

Crutchie raised an eyebrow at him, and Jack sighed. He leaned in, bringing Crutchie and Race into a quick huddle.

“I figured Spot wouldn’t be here tonight, but I thought if you could get word to him, we could all talk tomorrow,” Jack said to Race. “I need to tell you all what’s going on and talk some strategy. Can we make that happen? I’ll sleep here tonight, if I can, and come back after work.”

Race nodded. “I can let him know. He’ll be here. You need the other boys, too?” he asked, his tone heavy with meaning.

“Yeah. Not the really little ones,” Jack amended firmly, “but the others. We don’t want nobody gettin’ hurt, but we need information.”

Crutchie looked back and forth between them, assessing their faces. “It’s bad, isn’t it? What happened to Dave, I mean?”

“He’s all right - he’ll be healed up in a couple of days,” Jack reassured his friend, “but the implications are bad, yeah. Oscar was the one who did it, but we’re pretty sure there are other people pulling the strings.”

“Damn Oscar,” Crutchie swore softly. “As if he hasn’t done enough damage to all of us already.”

[skruffie]

It’s not the anniversary yet, but it IS National Siblings Day and I conveniently forget that this is even a thing until I go on Facebook or Twitter or something and remember. This year is a big milestone for my family because it is the 18th anniversary, which marks a passage of time from now to forever where she has been gone longer than she was alive.

I saw this thing on Facebook about grief, and it went something like grief is this hole, and you can try to fill the hole with whatever you can, but nothing fills it. It’s bottomless. It seems like your entire life gets sucked into it, but eventually as the years go on... the hole doesn’t get smaller. Your life gets bigger, and it grows around it. The hole is always there, but there’s more expanse around it as you move through each anniversary, each holiday, each milestone. It’s similar to describing grief as “it doesn’t get easier, you just get better at coping”.

(This is going to be very long and probably very sad because I talk at great length about her life and death)

I tried to write about a little bit about Nicole on Twitter today, but my initial post mentioned the word “cancer” which caught the attention of this fucking asshole that was advertising faith healing on his timeline. That dulled my grief a bit but it sure made me mad.

Trying to remember things.

We were seven years apart so we never really had a sibling rivalry or anything. I actually looked up to her so much--she was like a teenage rock star to my child self. She loved writing and wrote lots of poetry, got published in an independent zine by age nine, and through her adolescence was a bit of a grunge punk. She played piano and bass. She wore combat boots. Occasionally she dressed up with the full make-up and everything and called them her “pretty days”. She had a lock of hair in front of her face she kept in a small braid. She did blogging before the word “blog” even existed by maintaining an email list of friends and family, and she would email her updates directly to them. She coded her own websites and experimented with graphic design. She did photography. She’s why I love nail polish and tarot cards and Doc Martens--her own boots had navy blue laces with suns and moons on them. She had a huge, huge crush on Dave Navarro. She would buy hostess cupcakes for the kids at school who didn’t have food, and she kicked her own friends out of our house when they tried to bring alcohol to her party.

Nicole grew up with the brunt of our parents’ addictions before I came along. My mom (seen with baby Nicole in one of the photos above) and dad were only 19 when they had her and got married. When she was younger, they actually split up for a while and I think my great-grandma helped take care of her. My parents both went to rehab, got back together, and then had me, so... I was the baby that grew up in a sober house for a while at least. My parents still argued and it bothered me a lot when I got a bit older, so she’d come get me and take me to her room and bring chips and bean dip, and I’d have a safe place to cry.

...That’s a thought I just had right there. After she died, I didn’t really have that same kind of shield from my parents fighting (which was a lot worse after her death--a lot of couples who lose a child end up divorcing and my parents came close), which I think is probably what made the emotional neglect worse.

I don’t remember the exact progression of her cancer, but things started getting noticeable when she started developing night-blindness. I think at the time there were some doctors that didn’t believe she could be getting cancer so getting the insurance to cover tests and treatment was a fight every single time. A tumor started growing in her left arm, and the diagnosis was finally clear: rhabdomyosarcoma. She asked the doctors after her diagnosis if it was genetic, because even after that, she thought of me. (Thankfully, it isn’t. It was just a stupid, cruel twist of the universe.)

She got chemo, started to go into remission, and eventually it came back. Nicole then got a stem cell transplant when it was getting worse--more tumors, etc etc. I had met with a grief counselor at the hospital once or twice during this time period, even before we knew for sure it was terminal, because I was 10 going on 11 and needed someone to help me process and also like... kinda pay attention to me? Admitting that feels weird, but I was just a kid.

The day that I found out that the stem cell transplant didn’t work is probably almost worse than the day she died for me. They brought in a minister and we sang “Amazing Grace” and I watched her be baptized, and while she was being anointed, I kept asking everyone “Why is she being baptized? Why??? Why?! We’re Wiccan!!” Which was true. Nicole also underwent a Wiccaning around this time. Everyone was ignoring my questions, until finally it was time. She told me the stem cell transplant had not been successful and broke down crying, and I immediately understood what that meant, and I started screaming and crying. I started screaming to see the grief counselor, and I had to leave the hospital room to go with the counselor down to my favorite spot on the hospital campus.

Fuck. I hate Easter. I fucking hate Easter. It was around Easter time and this holiday plays a role in this awful memory of mine: at the hospital, some very kind person made little easter baskets for all the kids that were on the juvenile cancer ward, and I even got to get one even though I wasn’t a patient. I was starting to open mine but Nicole just looked at it. She said “Why do I get one? Why do I get one when I’m going to--” and probably started crying. I put my basket aside because the thrill of like... easter chocolate or whatever the fuck was gone. I don’t think I’ve been able to enjoy this holiday since.

Make A Wish was involved at some point, obviously. NIcole’s original wish was to meet Tori Amos, but her management team responded with “Uhhh, Tori doesn’t really do that” which was disappointing at first. (A few years later, a couple of Nicole’s friends saw T live in concert and met her at a meet and greet. They told her Nicole’s story and I guess she had no idea actually, so I believe it was a decision firmly on the management’s side.). The next wish had to be rushed, and Nicole realized that she wanted to go to prom. The actual senior prom for her high school was going to be too far out in advance with her surviving that long, so Make A Wish threw together a special prom just for her and about 150+ attendees.

The prom was held at Newport Harbor on a yacht. Rebecca Schoenkopf of Wonkette, known in 2001 as CommieGirl for the OC Weekly, met with Nicole once prior to this and attended as a prom guest to write about it. Naturally, Nicole was crowned prom queen and when she stood up to receive the crown, it was something magical. She had spent most of the evening in and out of sleep from being so ill and from the medications she was on.

When she was dying, she wanted to be at the hospital. I stayed at my grandparent’s house... probably for a couple days, I don’t actually remember how long it was, and my parents were there for her. I believe she died in the early hours of the morning on April 30th, two days short of her 18th birthday. I had a moment that morning that I consider a small blessing, which is that I found out she was gone before anyone had actually told me, and it gave me a brief reprise to just be by myself while I gathered up my will to go downstairs and face my parents. I had been in the process of going downstairs, and I saw my mom come out of the bathroom, and that was it. That was all I needed to see.

She had them write a letter as her own personal message to me. Two days later for her 18th birthday, my cousin sent us 18 lavender balloons. I don’t think we had her memorial until the 11th of May and I know this because it was the same day Douglas Adams--one of Nicole’s favorite authors--died. We joked that she took him with her. Nicole was cremated, and I do remember there was at least one funny moment that morning as we were getting out of the car. My mom handed me the wooden box that had Nicole’s cremains in it and said “Here, hold your sister for a sec.” We got a touch of that grave humor in my family.

One of the hardest things about this... hole of grief, is aging. My parents are in their mid 50s now, and I’m going to be 30 next year. I don’t have any other siblings to help take care of my parents. My mom rather flippantly says “Oh, put us in a nursing home”, but that just feels so bleak. I don’t have my sister with me to help with my wedding, to meet Zack or any of my friends, to talk to about our past and our future. She’s not here to kick ass and build amazing apps or tear down the patriarchy or be on the ground reporting the latest news break. There’s so many milestones I’ve already crossed without her but I am always going to miss her.

Bon swayr, ma souer.

[killerbaroness]

Light of my Life (John Deacon x OC): Introduction

Relationship: John Deacon x OC Annie Boyd

Summary: Annie is a part-time bartender and meets John Deacon as his band plays, as they go through life changes, their relationship continues to develop alongside them.

Warnings: none for now, very slow burn

Word Count: 2,859

A/N: This is my first fan fiction ever.  Let me know what you think! Also taking submissions for other one shots or series about Queen or Bohemian Rhapsody characters.  

“Have a nice evening, sir!” The rotund man gives a courteous smile and a polite wave as he shuffles out of the bar.  I smile as the last of the patrons have exited the pub. The lunch shift is now over, meaning a brief closing period before the pub reopens for the nightly entertainment.

          Unwrapping myself from my tightly tied apron in the breakroom, I meander to the office where Hilly is counting registers and keeping financial records of the day.  Hilly, the manager, is middle aged and hardened by this job.  He has no issue stepping in when patrons choose to get mouthy with staff and has rejected quite a few customers in his day.  But his employees were treated with utmost respect, especially those that were loyal in their positions.  He understood the rigors of the customers’ behavior.

          “Hilly, I’m headed out for a minute.  Can I get you anything?” I ask peering through his office doorway.  

          He offers a simple shake of his head in response.  I smile and begin to step out.  “Wait!” he calls.  I quickly return to hear him.  “Would you mind checking the lineup for tonight? I’m not certain of who is coming in.”  Nodding quickly, I return to the breakroom to check the monthly calendar.  

          Tonight calls for a headliner of Queen and The Weepers as a supporting act.  I quickly grab scratch paper and jot down the bands before returning to Hilly’s office.

          He looks up quickly to read the sheet.  “Looks like you’ll be doing set-up tonight. Especially with Genevieve gone. Janice is here tonight, but since she’s new, I’d like her to keep working the bar.”

          I nod, finding no trouble with the scenario.  I typically filled in for Genevieve on her days off.  But now that she has departed the bar for her after-university career, I’m beginning to fill in her old positions.  “No problem, sir.  I’ll be back in a few.”

          My typical break from the bar, especially working doubles, includes a quick jog down to the café nearby.  Lucille’s is a local shop.  Not particularly known for anything, other than what I consider convenience.  I smile and order a black coffee and a pastry to pick at on my walk back.  Typically, after my quick rendezvous at Lucille’s, I take a stroll back to the bar and smoke a cigarette.  

          I take my time on my walk back.  I rely on this time to just clear my head.  To just walk and get lost in thought.  Thinking about what the next shift will be like, what patrons will arrive, the joyous thought of getting to return to my bed once my shift completes.

I return to the bar, with my cigarette long gone, but not enough time to begin another.  I return through the backdoor and put my belongings in my cubby.  Checking the time, I have another forty-five minutes before the opening bands typically begin to show up and decide to continue this time by reading the paperback long retreated to the bottom of my handbag.

          I’m returned to reality by Hilly rapping his knuckles on the doorframe.  “I think you’re needed, darling.  Looks like we’ve got some lost souls in the front room.”

          I give a small smile to Hilly and ditch my reading materials before adjusting my apron and returning to the floor of the bar.

          A threesome of people are staring big-eyed around Hilly’s establishment.  

          “Hello, can I help you?” I ask, afraid to startle this group of young boys, looking no older than eighteen.

          One clears his throat, looking rather overwhelmed.  “Hi, I’m Dave.  We’re The Weepers.  I know we’re a bit early, but this is our first performance that isn’t an open-mic night, and we just wanted to get everything right.”

          I give a small smile.  “That’s no problem.  You lot get to go on first, anyways.  Tell you what, if you could start bringing in your equipment, we’ll get you set up before anyone else gets here.  See if we can do an early sound check.”

          The boys look largely relieved.  Offering big smiles to replace the anxious and confused faces of before.  

          “Also, if you guys have any questions, my name is Annie. I’d be happy to help you.”

          They all mumble their thanks and quickly rush out of the bar.  Hurriedly grabbing what they can to quickly get in a sound check and practice before other performers start arriving.

          I watch the young boys, and smile as I’m cleaning up the taps and setting glasses out for Janice, our newest employee.  I want to help her have a seamless evening.  The boys are quite cheeky when onstage, and offer a good energy, that I hope translates once more people fill up the pub.  Their sound is fun, and sure to entertain the large masses of university students that tend to fill the pub.  

          Shortly after the boys come up to the bar to collect their drinks and chat before our doors open.

          My head snaps up as I see a foursome enter the pub. Assuming this is the other band, I go to greet them.

          “Hey there, welcome in.  I’m guessing you’re performing with us tonight.”  I offer my sickly-sweet smile to the group.

          “Hi there, we haven’t been here in a while.  It’s quite good to be back.  I’m Brian, and this is the rest of Queen,” the man offers. I am a little in shock as I attempt to crane my neck upwards to garner all his height.

          “That’s no problem, would you guys like a little tour, then?  Do you remember where our backstage and green room is?” I offer.

          “I think we might be okay, most of us have been here and remember.  But is it okay if we start unloading our things?” Brian asks.

          “Of course! Just drop them off in our backstage room, and once this band finishes, we’ll get you set up.”

          “Cool.  Sounds good. We’ll be back in a moment,” a man with long blonde hair quickly says before sprinting out the door while the rest meander behind at a casual pace.

          I return to the other band, offering words of encouragement, and continuing to make sure all the area is cleaned up for Janice tonight. Slowly I see a figure approaching the bar.

          I turn to see one of the members from Queen come up.

          “Hi there,” he says whilst fiddling with his fingers, “I’m new to the band and haven’t performed here before.  Would you mind if I did get that brief tour? I’m not sure where to put some of the gear.”

          “Oh well of course! My name’s Annie, and feel free to come to me with any questions tonight, regarding your performance or anything else for that matter.”  I offer my hand out for a handshake, as I make my way around the bar

          “John Deacon.  Thank you, that’s very kind.  I’m very new to all of this.”

          “No worries.  We get a lot of first-timers here.  Being a smaller place, it’s easier to get people to pay attention.  That band at the bar, this is one of their first shows.  So, you’re in good company.”

          “That’s a bit of a relief, if I’m honest.  The rest of the band has been together for a little bit longer.  But I’m still getting adjusted,” he admitted.  He seemed very contemplative and a little on edge.

          Unlocking the door to the green room, I shoved the door open to turn the light.  “I promise you that you all will be great tonight.  The people that come out to these shows are just happy to see a band is here.  Nothing bad can happen.  And when you guys are done performing, come and see me.  I’d be more than happy to offer some celebratory drinks.”

          John smiles brightly.  “Okay.  That’s good to hear.  I could use a drink now,” he chuckles.

          I smile at him, “Feel free to invite your friends, and we can arrange that.  Green room is here, and the door backstage is across the hall.  Feel free to set everything inside there.  I’ll be at the bar should you need anything.”

          “Thanks Annie.  I’ll most likely take you up on that offer for a drink,” he grins.

          Walking back to my station at the bar before the doors open to the public, I watch the rest of Queen come in with their equipment. Brian offers a small smile as he walks a case through the pub.  And I notice the jumpy blonde-haired man wearing sunglasses and walking outside with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

          Following the opening to the public, The Weepers began to play.  Their spritely singer had the audience smiling.  Their fun lyrics made for an entertained crowd, as their once-nervous singer was now swaying with his guitar.  He closed his eyes often and performed with what he could, even though he was in the smallest pub in town.  The audience ate it up.  And the band was evidently pleased as throughout their performance they made eyes to each other smiling as the set progressed.

          As they ran offstage and came over to the bar, I had their beers ready at the three seats in front of me.  

          “You guys were amazing.  They ate you up out there!  I hope we’ll be seeing more of you guys soon,” I congratulated.

          They nodded eagerly, sipping quickly, and watching Queen begin to set up.  “Thanks for all your help tonight.  We’ll be sure to talk to Hilly about coming back.”

          Following a quick soundcheck, I approached the band asking if they needed anything before they began their set.

          “I think we are all set on our end.  We’re just ready to offer something more diverse to this crowd’s palette,” the lead singer offered.

          “I’m sure they’d only be so lucky,” I chuckle.  “Whenever you guys are ready, the stage is yours.”

          The singer nodded and winked at me before taking the stage.  His bandmates followed suit and were playing chords to prepare themselves.

          “Good evening, we’re Queen.  We’re happy to be back,” Brian said.  He looked a little hesitant, but quickly overcame this as his bandmates nodded their heads in affirmation at his statement.

          Quickly the long-haired drummer tapped his sticks to create a countdown before beginning.  The song immediately rushed into an upbeat tempo.  The sound demanding the room participate in some action. Whether listening or clapping. There was a necessary response needed. Queen was not a band to idly enjoy. Everyone began looking around at their table-mates, some with shocked looks on their faces, unsure of what to expect when they stepped on stage.

          I stole a glance at John, who looked less nervous, but determined.  His eyes were focused on the ground.  But his hands were strategically plucking at the bass strings as deliberately as he could achieve his chords.  Every now and then he would look up and offer a brief nod and some slight eye contact to his bandmates before returning to his focused state.

          The band was energetic and had the crowd captivated. As the last chord was struck during their last song, the crowd applauded.  A hearty reaction for a crowd of our size.

          The band walked over following their set, still laden with sweat.  

          “I think I need a beer, darling,” the blonde said, looking slightly desperate.  

          Offering a small nod and a smile, I quickly poured from the tap and offered the drink as the man quietly sighed contently.

          I filled all the orders for the four men, hearing them bicker about their performance.  About what went well, what did not, when they should come back. During this conversation, John did not participate much, except for a few words here and there.

          I offered him a small smile, which he caught and looked in my direction.  “I think you were great tonight.  They clearly loved you all.  No reason to be nervous.”

          “Thanks, Annie.  I’m glad they participated the way they did, made it easier for me to ease up,” he said taking a sip of his drink.

          “I bet, we haven’t had an audience interact like that the entire time I’ve worked here.”

John continued to smile back at me, about to speak when a he was cut off by the drummer, who I later learned was Roger, smacked his arm.

          “Hey mate, we’re going to head out.  Brian and I have to head back to the apartment.  And as always, Freddie needs a ride.”

          John quietly nods and wishes them all a good night, as they all depart and say their farewells.

          “Perks of driving myself,” he mumbles.  “I won’t die by Roger’s ancient van.”

          I laugh under my breath as I clean up their glasses. Few patrons are left in the pub and we’re to close within the next half an hour.  Janice is cleaning up on her end, looking a little flustered, but keeping up with her new position well.  Most likely making lots of tips after this crowd.  

          “Janice, I’m headed out for a smoke break.  You okay for a minute?”  She quietly nods and picks up the used dishes to carry to the back. “Care to join?” I ask turning to John.

          “Oh, umm.  Okay, yeah,” he mumbles while grabbing his coat.  

          He follows me out back where I pull my cigarettes and lighter from my apron pocket, offering him one.  He thanks me and begins to place it in his mouth.

          “So when can we expect you lot back?” I ask after exhaling.

          “Honestly, as soon as you want us back.  The group talked about that crowd.  While we’re used to bigger gigs, we love when they eat us up.  Plus, we never come to the east side.”

          “I mean, I’ll talk to Hilly, but we could do next week same time.  The crowds love a routine.  If you keep coming on Tuesday nights, so will they.  Just call us and let us know.”

          “Of course,” he smiles.  

          I’m realizing through the course of this conversation that John is riddled with boyish charm.  While we seem to be the same age, he seems younger than me.  I write that off as his shy nature presumably.  But as the conversation continues, I think it’s equal parts shy, equal parts carefully deciding his words.  He says little, but when he does it is impactful.

          “So, what were you doing before Queen?  You’re new to the band, right?”

          “Well, I’m still at university.  But had just started before I found these guys.  They needed a bassist.  Guess they had a few before me.  But I auditioned, and I guess they liked what I had to offer.  It’s been fun, but I worry that it’s just for the time being.  I mean, we play pubs.  We’re not doing much.”

          “Who knows, maybe there is something more for you guys. But at the least, are you having fun?” He nods quietly.  “Then that should be enough,” I say exhaling the last bit of my cigarette.

          “You’re right.  It’s nice to not just be in school.  I have something to look forward to now.”

          I nod, smiling at him recounting these experiences of his personal life.

          “I have to head in, we’re closing soon.  But I hope I’ll see you soon.  You’re welcome to stay before we close out for the night.”

          “No, I should head out.  Don’t want to keep you guys busy, the sooner you clean up the sooner you leave, I bet,” he chucks his cigarette.  “I’ll see you soon Annie, have a good night,” he smiles before walking to his car in the car park.

          “You too,” I call with a wave.

          I head in to the bar, to clean up tables of those that have left since I’ve been outside.  I head to Janice to let her know she’s okay to head out.

          “How are you feeling?  Did you think tonight went okay for you?”

          “Yeah, wasn’t too bad.  Pretty busy, but everyone was nice,” she says wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

          “That’s always good to hear, Hilly’s always here to deal with the not-so-nice, should you need him.  But I honestly wouldn’t worry about that.  I won’t keep you though.  You need to go home, get some rest.”

          “Thanks, Annie.  I’ll see you on Thursday night,” she says as she hangs up her apron.  “Oh wait,” she remembers reaching into her apron pocket.  “Someone left this for you,” she says and smiles.

          I open it up and see a phone number written with “John Deacon” written on the bottom.  I can’t help but smile and slip it into my back pocket

[vault-heck]

WIP Wednesday

I've never done one of these but feel like sharing a snippet from an upcoming chapter of What God Doesn't Give You. Please like this post if you want me to tag you in future WIP Wednesdays! <3

The next morning, Noah and Preston discussed a plan of action with Dave over the razorgrain oats he had offered them for breakfast. His younger daughter, Shelly, leaned on the table and studied Noah. 

“Sugar Bombs taste better than that stuff,” she told him smugly.

“You know why they call them Sugar Bombs?” She shook her head, fidgeting with a strand of wiry yellow hair. “Because all that sugar will blow up your teeth. Boom!” He mimicked an explosion on either side of his jaw with his fingertips. Shelly giggled but ran off, oops.

“He’s right, you know!” Dave called after her. He sighed.

“Anyway, more and more of those weird looking ferals have been wandering out this way. They’re definitely coming from the charter school, and if it gets much worse we could be overrun.”

Noah slapped the table, having finished his oats in record time. Shelly was right, of course, Sugar Bombs would have tasted better and he did not feel like savoring his breakfast. “We’re on it. They’re as good as gone.” 

“That’ll be a relief.” 

“Mr. Garvey?” A soft voice came from the doorway. 

“Hi, Sadie, what is it?” Preston asked. Dave’s older daughter brought a tattered comic book to the table.

“I was wondering if you would sign my Unstoppables,” she said shyly. “They’re just made-up stories from the old days, but I really look up to the Minutemen. And I think you’re kind of like our superheroes.” 

Dave chuckled. “I didn’t actually expect anyone to respond to our call to help,” he said, and reached over the table to take Noah and Preston’s dishes. “Sadie never lost faith in you, though.”

Noah saw a shine in Preston’s eyes that he thought the others might not notice. “Well hey, I’m no Silver Shroud. But I’d be happy to leave you a note.” Sadie smiled and held out the worn booklet with a well-kept refillable ballpoint pen.

Preston double checked the spelling of her name, scribbled on the inside cover, then nodded towards Noah. “Don’t you want a signature from the General, too?” 

She glanced at him and plainly said, “The new guy?”

“Manners, Sadie!” Dave scolded. But Noah was already cracking up. “That’s alright, my handwriting is atrocious anyway.”

“Thank you very much Mr. Garvey!” she meandered back to the family’s bedroom, reading his note as she walked. She was a bit star-struck, and Noah understood the feeling.

They left the farm soon after, Dogmeat taking the lead and enjoying the novel scents in their path. 

“Question for you,” Noah said when they were out of earshot. Preston’s face had fallen compared to his cheerful disposition back in the Somerville house. “Hmm?”

“Should I start bringing back your fan mail when I take these missions alone?” 

Preston’s laugh was short, and he rolled his eyes, but he did smile a little bit. Win.

[seventyfiveapples]

Shaken

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bright / Nick Jakoby x OFC

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.

Story Summary: Nick receives an unexpected invitation from a charming middle school teacher with a mysterious past. 

Billie took a gulp of the stale diesel fuel the hospital was passing off as coffee and sat up straighter in the scratchy waiting room chair, attempting to will herself awake as she waited for any news about Lucy or Gilda.

For the last two days, Billie was either at work or at this hospital, waiting and drinking this shitty coffee.

Lucy was going to be okay, at least. The plaster had cracked into smaller pieces before hitting her, resulting in mostly surface injuries: a head wound that bled profusely but that was easily stitched, a concussion, a broken shin, and numerous cuts and bruises. Remarkably, she did not require surgery and would most likely be released in another day after a bit more observation. She was in and out of consciousness, but Billie was grateful she would pull through.

Gilda was another story. Her injuries were far more severe and she hadn’t yet opened her eyes since the earthquake. 

Billie had insisted on riding in the police car as Nick drove to the ER, applying pressure to Lucy’s wounds as they rode so that she wouldn’t bleed out on the way, and trying to keep both as still as possible.

At the ER, one of the intake nurses asked for Gilda’s next of kin... and Billie was gutted as to realize that Gilda didn’t have a single name to enter. She’d lied and given her own name, saying she was an aunt. No one questioned her.

Since then, she’d kind of thought of herself that way, and since Lucy was more or less stable at this point she was glued to Gilda’s bedside. Every few minutes she looked up to scan the child for a sign - any sign - of movement. Nothing so far. She sank back into her chair and resolved to wait as long as needed.

Her heart broke at the possibility of Gilda waking up in her hospital room completely alone. How could such a good-natured kid have no one to look out for her?

It broke her heart even more to think she might never wake up.

Like most orcs, family was everything for Billie. She grew up idolizing her two older brothers, hoping to become a Fogteeth member herself someday.

When she was Gilda’s age, Billie was a real tomboy and was often treated as “one of the guys,” or at least like one of the guys’ little brothers. They used her as a "lookout" for some of their small-scale robberies and she was ashamed to remember feeling proud about that. As a kid, she saw her brothers as The Good Guys, no matter what, and the rest of the world - humans, elves, etc. - were villains. She'd justified some of their criminal activities by the idea that anything that benefited orcs and hurt humans was somehow righting the injustices she saw around her.

As she go a bit older, she started to understand that the world didn't work in absolutes. The more she understood about the world outside of her neighborhood, the more all the stories she told herself grew cracks, and those cracks spiderwebbed out, connecting facts and shattering long-held assumptions. Maybe, she was forced to admit, maybe her brothers weren't The Good Guys.

The first time she wondered who, exactly, her brothers really were was the first time she saw them actually hurt someone, punching and kicking a shop owner they were robbing. He hadn't done anything to draw their attention, he just happened to run a convenience store. The second time, the time she really pulled back, was when her first girlfriend had been shot in the leg by a stray bullet. The third time was the final straw. She was serving as a lookout for another convenience store robbery, and a small human child - no older than 6 or 7 - came up to her and asked who the men were who were talking to her daddy. Billie knew the child couldn't hear the sick thuds of body blows that her orcish ears detected, and she just stared at the child, unable to speak.

She went home that night and cried harder than she'd ever cried in her life, feeling guilty, torn, and trapped in a life she was finally starting to understand and resent.

Oddly, it was through the encouragement of a human teacher in high school that Billie built up the courage to confront her brothers. Her teacher saw real promise  in Billie and encouraged her to apply for college, something no one else in her family had done. She passed along scholarship opportunities and articles about how to strengthen college applications. She asked her every week about her plans. Without that teacher, Billie didn't know if she could envision a different life than the one that was slowly taking hold of her.

Because of that teacher, Billie had made it her life's mission to be a positive influence on others, especially other orcs. She knew the impact that a teacher could have and teaching became her goal.

For their part, her brothers supported her in her decision not to follow in their footsteps, even though she never hid how she felt about their criminal activities. It was an uneasy version of "agreeing to disagree" that seemed to somehow work: Billie drew clear boundaries and her brothers respected them. The three of them had enough love and devotion to keep that commitment... at least, that’s what Billie hoped.

 Nick walked into the hospital after his shift with arms full: flowers for Lucy and Gilda and a cup of what he hoped was “some decent fucking coffee,” per Billie’s request.

He walked in Gilda’s room and held out the coffee to Billie.

“Sweet Jirak, thank you,” she told him, shaking her head to wake herself.

"You’re welcome. Any news?”

"Lucy's been awake, off and on all day. She'll be thrilled to see you. No change for Gilda."

"And you? Have you been here all-"

"I'm not leaving," she snapped. It sounded harsher than she meant it. Nick didn't take her response personally. He placed Gilda's flowers - a small pot of violets - on the windowsill.

"If you want," he said in a soft voice, "I can come in here after I visit with Lucy so you can take a break, get a bite to eat or something."

Billie nodded but said nothing. Nick patted her shoulder gently before leaving the room.

To his delight, Lucy was awake when he came in, and all smiles.

"Hey, cutie!" she greeted him. 

"Hey, yourself! These are for you," he said, placing a large flower arrangement on the counter facing her.

"They're beautiful! Come here and kiss me so I can thank you!" Nick happily obliged. "The doctors said I might get to go home tomorrow. Are you free? Maybe I could make you some dinner or something." He smiled as he relaxed into a chair by her bedside. Seeing her covered in bruises and cuts was torture, but he knew she wouldn't want his pity, so he tried not to stare.

"That would be nice. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, like a building fell on me," she smirked. He reached out a hand for hers and slowly brought it to his mouth, kissing it. If he had sustained the kind of injuries she had, he'd already be back at work, thanks to orcs' healing abilities. Then again, if the debris had fallen on his head, as it appeared it would, he wouldn't be here at all. He couldn't believe she had risked her life for him.

"Well, do me a favor and try not to leap in front of any more falling debris."

She shrugged. "I can't make any promises. Hey, at least when I'm in here, there's people everywhere. I don't have to worry about Dave for a few days." She looked at him and tried to affect a casual tone as she asked, "Any news on that front, by the way? My car is back at the house - anyone get close to it?" They'd decided to leave the GPS tracker in place on her car now that they knew about it, in the hopes that they could use it against him at some point.

He just shook his head. All of their leads seemed to evaporate, and he felt like he was letting her down, time after time. 

Worrying about Dave was both terrifying and exhausting for them both. She thought of ways to change the subject. She started to wonder how Nick would react if she pulled him down into the hospital bed and started a vigorous make out session...

Some commotion from the hall stopped her from finding out.

“GUYS!” cried Billie from several doors down. “It’s Gilda- she’s awake. She’s awake!”

A day later, and Dave was ready to make his move. He’d already spent more time on this than he’d thought possible, and he was more than just angry, now. He wanted to be sure that bitch paid for it. He prepared two syringes full of sedatives, wrapped up a knife for good measure, and headed to the hospital in order to arrive before the orc cop’s shift ended.

He looked in a mirror: his disguise wasn’t perfect but it didn’t have to be. The plan was to be in the hospital for five minutes, tops.

This bullshit would end today.

Sunshine! 

It felt so good, Gilda thought, raising her face to the sky and breathing in deeply. She was outside for the first time in three days, and she was trying to enjoy every second. Ms. Billie would be here any moment and Gilda wanted to surprise her by casually sitting on the bench outside, although the nurse was anxious to get her back in.

”FIVE more minutes, please?” Gilda pleaded, then pulled an over-dramatic face. “I almost died.”

The nurse rolled his eyes but smiled and relented. Gilda smiled and got ready to relax on the bench again, when suddenly - BAM.

A man rushing past had crashed right into Gilda, knocking her on the ground. He was tall, with a lean frame, and he didn't even pause to apologize as he rushed in. He was dressed in scrubs, but they didn't smell like they'd been inside this hospital before, ever. In fact, the smell lingering after him was altogether... peculiar to Gilda.

“Hey asshole, watch where you’re going!” Called the nurse, helping Gilda up. Gilda wasn't hurt but she felt unsettled. The man radiated hostility and anger. He wanted to hurt someone, she thought, but she didn't know why. 

Sniffing her arm where he had bumped right into her, she sensed an odd combination of smells. First, the ocean. She could smell seaweed and the kinds of fish that swam close to the shores. Next were the smells of fuel and creosote: odd chemical smells orcs could spot a mile away. Hovering just behind those, however, was something else that seemed completely out of place. Maybe she was mistaken? The last smell was something... sweet. Cookies? Pies? 

She forgot about it as the nurse helped her back inside to her room.

"What do you fucking mean, someone knocked her over?!" Gilda heard Billie shout on the other side of the door. She'd been out there for a while, at first talking to Gilda's social worker, and now yelling at the hospital staff. "Aren't you guys supposed to help her get better, not get her more fucking injured? You know that girl's a goddamn hero, right?!"

Gilda's heart swelled as Billie yelled. She was almost able to stop wondering what Billie and the social worker had been talking about. The dormitories at Saint Emydius were nice, and there were a few other students who stayed there, but she loved being in this hospital. There were so many people around all the time, and they all seemed to care about her.

Especially Ms. Billie. She was funny and even though she cussed a lot, and brought her homework - seriously, homework in the hospital, Ms. Billie? - Gilda knew she really cared about her. She tried to remember if this was what it was like living with her orc family...

After a few minutes, Billie came in. She walked right up to the bed with an excited expression that made her face look like it was lit from behind. She tried to talk in a serious was. 

"Gilda, the doctors say you are almost ready to leave the hospital. What do you think about that?"

Gilda's heart fell. She knew Billie was expecting her to be happy about this, and forced a smile.

"Oh... good news!"

"Well, the bad news is... the dormitories at school took some damage from the quake, and it will take at least a month to fix. I talked to your social worker, and she says - if it's all right with you, and if I pass a home inspection - and of course if you want to, you could come and stay with me and Miss Harris for a while." Billie looked nervous as she spoke.

Gilda had never seen Billie nervous before, she thought she was pretty much fearless. It touched her to realize how much she was hoping for Gilda to say yes. "What do you think?"

Gilda's eyes filled with tears and she couldn't speak. This was the best news she could have imagined. She sat up straight and pulled Billie into a tight hug.

"Yes! Yes! I want to stay with you, Ms. Billie!" 

Only a quick moment later, Billie burst into Lucy's room, beaming, and ran right up to her bedside. She was so excited that she didn't even notice the stricken look on Lucy's face.

"Lucy, honey, guess what? Gilda's going to stay with us for a couple of weeks!"

Lucy opened and closed her mouth, seemingly in shock.

"I know, I know. I should have talked to you about it first. Aw crap, is this a problem? What are you-" Suddenly, her heightened orcish senses realized that something was very wrong in this room, and it had nothing to do with her news.

She realized Lucy was trying to draw her attention to someone or something behind her.

Billie tried to turn around slowly, casually, but this small movement was all it took for the strange man in scrubs to leap towards her and plunge a syringe into her neck. Lucy tried to scream as her friend slumped to the ground but Dave’s hand was already covering her mouth. He had another syringe in his hand, pointed towards her.

"Miss me, Jennie? Or should I call you Lucy now?" Before she could respond, Dave plunged the syringe in her neck and deposited her unconscious body into a hospital wheelchair. He tucked the orc's body behind the hospital bed and pulled the door mostly shut, then, as casually as possible, he wheeled Lucy down to the elevator and piled her in his car.

Nick had requested to leave a little early that afternoon, and he headed to the hospital. Lucy was getting discharged that day. He wanted to drive her home himself, and spend a little time together. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, with no sign of cloud or - he sniffed the air - earthquakes. He strolled onto the hall where Lucy's room was and noticed that her door was shut. He rapped a few times and waited for a response.

"Hmmm..." came a sound from the room. The voice sounded female, but it didn't sound like Lucy. His brow furrowed as it became more clear. "Heh- help. HELP!"

Nick flung the door open and saw Billie's hand waving from behind Lucy's hospital bed as she struggled to stand. "HELP! SOMEBODY!"

Lucy's bed was empty.

@beastlybfs @bonnietakesnosh-t @cinnamonroll-issues @abigfanofyours @fantasticauthoroafzonk

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 34: Picking up the Pieces

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied/Mentioned abuse, mentions of terrorism, death mention, injury mention; Illustrated

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Rose was…thoughtful. Not long ago at all, it had felt like the world was ending. Her twin had been hovering on the brink of death, her older brother had been a wreck, their father had had to be chased off with a bullet. Things should not have settled down quickly after such a stretch of chaos, and yet, less than an hour after Roxy’s car had pulled into the driveway, the house had achieved something approaching normalcy, or as close to normal as this house ever got. Mom and Aunt Ramona working on dinner and speaking in hushed tones, Karkat and Dave still sequestered away in Mom’s room after whatever loud conversation had echoed down the halls briefly, and Rose herself was on the couch across from Roxy and Dirk, watching the latter receive the chastising of a lifetime.

“Miaaaaoooowr!”

Rose shared a look with Roxy, feeling her lips pull up despite herself. Jaspers, having already greeted Rose, was now in the process of giving Dirk a piece of his mind. He’d done so before, on other occasions in which Dirk disappeared from the house for longer than a couple days, but never quite so loudly or stubbornly as today.

“You see what happens when you leave, Dirk?” Roxy cackled, jabbing Dirk in the ribs. “You get chewed out by the cat!”

“Mow! Mrrraow!!”

“He was so worried, Dirk!” she added, poking Dirk in the ribs.

Dirk shot Rose a hassled look. “Well?” she said, shaking her head and grinning. “Answer him, Dirk. He was so very worried, and deserves to know why you dared leave for so long.”

“Excuse me for getting a fucking concussion,” Dirk said.

“Meow!!!!!”

Amidst the ensuing laughter (mostly from Roxy), Ramona crept up behind Rose and tapped her shoulder. Rose glanced back, and heard her Aunt say, “Could I borrow you outside for just a moment?”

Out on the porch, Ramona folded her hands on the top of her cane. On her top hand was a  dark ring, set with a violet gem made to look as though nestled within a blooming flower; it caught the fading light of almost-sunset as she moved.

“I’ll not beat around the bush,” said Ramona. “Goodness knows, I’ve been away for too long as it is; the last thing we need is a final extended preamble. Rachel has told you about our family magic, yes?”

Well, that was surprisingly easy. After how long it took to have its existence confirmed, Rose had been expecting some extended dance of persistent interrogation would be necessary to coax the truth out of Aunt Ramona. “She told all three of us,” Rose said. “I suspect Dave’s inherited it, since he’s certainly prone to yelling at crows.”

“You have it, too,” she said. “Latent, but there. You and Dave have roughly the same raw power; Dirk has a tiny touch of it, not enough to be particularly significant, but he might be able to sense things if he were to focus. Roxy has a bit more, but still nothing compared to you and your twin.”

Rose tipped her head. “How do you know for sure that I do…?”

“The same way I knew you would recognize your guide,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “It develops into a knack with practice, or, if you prefer, a bit of training.” Ramona winked, showing a small smile. Rose’s mouth fell open. “Not yet, mind you,” Aunt Ramona continued, “We’ll need to wait for things to awaken on their own accord, first. But once they do, if you wish to develop them, I’d be happy to teach you how to best wield them. You’re at about the age where that’ll likely start up.”

Rose managed to collect some of her whirling thoughts; this was a lot all at once, but she managed to ask without stammering, “I thought that—I was lead to believe that the onset of these abilities usually happened when one was around thirteen?”

A shrug. “Not necessarily. It varies from person to person. Around sixteen is more normal, but it can be pushed to happen sooner with the pressure of certain…outside factors. Such was the case for myself, as well as, I suspect, your twin.”

More questions in their hundreds. Rose took a deep breath, and tried to refocus. “So. You’re offering, essentially, to some time in the future teach me everything you know about this…family magic of ours?”

“Maybe not everything.” Another wink. “Dave is…I suspect that our magic would not be as kind to him, for reasons I’ll very likely be elaborating on later, and it’s not actually a magic that’s dangerous to someone like him.  But you have very little that would prevent you from excelling, and I suspect that even if I don’t guide you, you’ll find your own way into trouble.”

“What kind of magic are you going to be teaching me, exactly?”

“A very good question,” she said. “I suppose the shortest summation I could provide is that ours is a magic of communion; we can forge communication with all kinds of beings beyond the realms of normal human awareness.”

“And birds.”

“Yes, and birds,” Ramona laughed.

“Speaking of,” Rose said, pulling another thought out of the whirlwind, “I need to ask about that crow you sent.”

“Oh, goodness, I didn’t send him,” Ramona said.

“No?”

“Hardly! I’ve never been able to control anything that one does.” For a moment, her eyes turned distant, as if looking at something Rose could never see, as she said quietly, “What a different place the world might be if I could…” She shook her head, snapping back to now. “No, that one’s always done as he pleases. He came to me, as it were, and asked for help.”

“He came all the way to you in France?”

Ramona leaned forward, conspiratorially, and said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s not exactly a normal crow. He has his ways.”

“…Ways you’ll be explaining to me sometime later, I presume?” Rose said.

“You may well be able to ask him directly,” she answered. “He’s not going anywhere just yet, and for all that he’s prone to mischief, he’s very much on your side. For now, let’s call that a first tip: his methods may not always be wise, but his intentions can be trusted entirely.”

Before Rose could answer, Mom called to the both of them that dinner was ready. Ramona gave Rose a knowing look, said softly that “this is just between us,” and headed inside.

Dave and Karkat were absent from dinner that night. Mom said that Dave had dozed off earlier, and didn’t want to leave the room; she brought the two of them their food, but otherwise left them alone.

Much later that night, Rose saw Karkat creeping into his room, with a look suggesting that he hated the very prospect of straying from Dave’s side for a second. He was awake the next morning well before she was, back at her brother’s aid as soon as he was able.

“Dude, I appreciate that we’re Bro-rails now, or whatever, but I seriously am not gonna be like bothered at all if you sit this out,” said Dave.

“Fuck you, I’m helping,” Karkat said, folding his arms. “And it’s pronounced moirail, dammit, Dave!” They’d been arguing like this for ten minutes, because Dave couldn’t stop being insufferable for two seconds and shut up and let his moirail take care of him without making yet another Human Sexuality Joke, apparently!! Rachel and Roxy stood by, silent and looking concerned and confused, while Karkat braced himself for the inevitable “but the GAY” response.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, fine, whatever,” Dave said. “Seriously, though, like, I know you got issues seeing blood, and this is…it’s not bloody, but it’s pretty gross? It might like, seriously give you issues, man, I don’t wanna fuck you up here. Mom and Roxy can just deal with changing the bandages, it’s fine.”

Oh. So. So it wasn’t a…a ‘gay’ thing, Dave just. Actually fucking cared. That was…really reassuring, in truth. Karkat had been really worried that Dave might’ve just agreed to be moirails in the heat of the moment yesterday, that he’d said whatever it took to keep Karkat there in the moment. Sometimes characters did that in romcoms, and it was always so fucking miserable for the other party, to be taken advantage of like that, and Karkat had been scared,  because he wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to call Dave out on it if that turned out to be the case—but. Maybe he really did care, then—fuck, they really needed to talk about this, at some point. For now, Karkat folded his arms and tried not to look like Dave had startled him. “I’m the person most likely to be around you most of the time, since Rachel and Roxy both have other shit to do,” Karkat insisted. “It makes perfect fucking sense for me to know how to change your stupid bandages. I can deal with it!”

He probably could deal with it. He was pretty sure. Rachel had gently herded Karkat out of the room to deal with this last night after dinner, but today was a new day and dammit, Karkat had moirail rights now, he was going to help take care of Dave! If anything, the idea of anyone else tending to Dave’s wounds made his blood boil a little, even though he understood now that with humans, looking after an injured party really was a group effort. They weren’t stepping into his duties in their culture, they were just being a good, caring family, and he was the clueless outsider here and needed to respect how they went about things. But, still, Rachel had said that it would be smart to have more than just her and Rose know how to tend to Dave’s wounds, so of course he was going to be part of that. Everyone on Alternia knew moirails looked after each other, he’d be a shitty moirail not to step up and help out!

And then Rachel started unwrapping the bandages, even as Dave tried to warn Karkat off one last time, and…Roxy gasped next to him, and Karkat felt his blood pusher do a fucking backflip.

Dave hadn’t been shitting around for a second. It was bad. The skin all across Dave’s left side and a fair way across his chest was a vivid red, blistered mess…

He had to turn his head away for a moment to swallow down the bile and panic that rose in his throat.

“You sure you’re alright?” Dave asked, eyes worried.

Karkat forced everything down, now, even if he choked on it, and snapped, “Never better. Quit asking, I’m taking care of you, not the other way around.”

Roxy snorted.

The process of changing the bandages and tending to the burns turned out to involve two towels to prevent the wounds from potentially leaking all over the bedsheets and Dave’s clothes (because having to change both of those as well two or three times a day would’ve just been obnoxious for all parties involved), careful cleaning of the wounds, and then the application of a medical salve of some sort. Rachel dealt with the big wound on Dave’s torso, and then let Roxy and Karkat deal with a smaller one on Dave’s upper arm (Karkat’s hand trembled the entire fucking time, no matter how much he tried to force it not to. He kept forgetting to breathe. It was red, so red, so fucking red—) which didn’t take nearly as long to do, it was fine, really, no trouble at all.

Dave grabbed Karkat’s wrist as he pulled away. “Hey, you sure you’re alright?” he said, and Karkat took a deep breath before answering.

“Yeah. No problem. I told you, it’s fine, so shut up and let me nurse your dumb wounded ass back to health.”  

Dave nodded and let Karkat pull away, which he did, while folding his arms to disguise his shuddering. As Rachel had Dave hold his arms up so she could help him put his shirt back on, though, Karkat stopped her.

“I think we missed a spot,” he said, pointing. Rachel looked at the point on Dave’s chest to which Karkat was pointing, and then back at him. “I’m not seeing it…?” she said.

“It’s right there! It’s bright pink, how are you not seeing it?”

A brief look of clarity crossed Rachel’s face. “We’re mammals, honey, that’s supposed to be there,” she said, resuming helping Dave back into his shirt, as if she hadn’t just casually tipped Karkat’s worldview on its fucking head.

“You’re WHAT??!”

“I’m surprised you two never had this conversation,” she said, grinning. Dave’s face was frozen in something mostly stoic, but staring wide-eyed at nothing with his brow furrowed. “Yeah, we’re mammals, bud.”

“Wait, are trolls not—“ Roxy started.

“Nope, they’re like, weird bug things,” said Rachel, finishing tugging the shirt over Dave’s head. “Except…not? Ramona explained this to me at one point, but I forget the details. You could probably google it.”

“Mammals!?!?” Oh, God. Oh, no—images of the great hoofbeast manservants employed by some bluebloods played unwantedly across his mind, despite his loudest and most carefully-written internal requests to please never do that, ever.

“Holy shit, dude, please don’t have a meltdown because you saw a fucking nipple,” Dave groaned. “Mine don’t even do anything, calm down.”

“Oh, sorry for reacting entirely appropriately to what is, hands down, the most devastating realization of my fucking life!! No sweat, just the sudden advent of the horrific knowledge that my new moirail does, in fact, share a significant enough number of traits with the horrific be-uddered milkbeasts beloved by certain fucking fetishists of a highblood persuasion to share a goddamned group name with! Sweet crotchblistering fuck, this whole fucking time?! What, do you do the freakish live birth thing, too?!!”

“That was my job, thanks,” said Rachel, still grinning. “All three of ‘em. Dave and Rose at the same time, even.”

Karkat screamed a cry of despair untranslatable into human speech, but which could be semi-accurately described as a verbal keyboard smash.

“Hey, Dirk, can you google something for me, since you got your laptop out?”

“Yeah, sure, shoot.”

“If trolls aren’t mammals, why do some of them have tits?”

Dirk nearly spat orange soda across his computer screen. Roxy looked right back at him and watched the thought process. Just let it sink riiiiight in. Because what the fuck. What’s even up with that, right? After a moment, he sighed and put down his drink.

“…If I get some weird computer virus from this, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” said Roxy, bouncing down next to him on the couch. Rose tried to look like she wasn’t also totally looking at the screen, and entirely failed. Girl could pretend to still be knitting all she wanted, she wanted to know, too.

“Oh, huh,” said Dirk softly after a few minutes of wrestling Wikipedia.

“Weeeeeird,” said Roxy.

“What is?” said Karkat, coming out of the hall. Dirk, with the speed of someone who’s had a lot of close calls from a very tipsy mom coming suddenly downstairs while this totally hypothetical individual was drawing something reeeeal weird with their fancy drawing tablet, closed out of the tab and pulled up the bunch of coding he’d been procrastinating working on before Roxy had asked her question.

“Nothing!” Roxy said brightly and probably real unconvincingly. Shoot. Rose went right back to knitting. “What’s up, man? Why’re you, like, out here?”

Karkat stared at the three suddenly super innocent-looking humans for a long moment, and then rolled his eyes. “Your witch aunt slash mother wanted to talk to Dave alone, for whatever reason, so you’re all stuck with me. So whatever weird thing you don’t want me to know about, you’re not going to keep it secret—“

“It was just a bit of harmless comparative anatomy research, that’s all,” said Rose, with a smug grin. “Since you were so intrigued by some of ours, we thought—“

Karkat glared at Roxy. “What, you told them about that?”

“She didn’t have to tell us anything,” Dirk said, picking his soda back up. “We could hear you. People in China probably heard your little existential crisis.”

“You’re the ones with fucking udders!” Dirk almost choked, and Roxy snorted. Rose blinked, and then pressed her face into her hand.

“We don’t…Karkat, not all mammals have udders, oh my God,” Roxy managed to get out between gasps of laughter.

At some point, Ray stepped in. She sat back for a bit, just watching them all laugh and snark at each other for a few more minutes. When things started settling into a natural pause, though, she cleared her throat.  When they all looked up at her, she said, “If it’s alright with you kids, I need to talk to Dirk alone for a minute.”

“Oh, Christ,” Dirk muttered. “Is it about school, or—”

“No, it’s not about school,” she said, “Although we’ll have to work that out at some point, too. You’re probably gonna need to take at least a week off, with that concussion, but this is…They already know about this.” Realization hit Roxy, and she winced, shooting Rose a pained look. Ray was picking her words carefully as she went on to say, “And it’s probably for the best that we talk about this without anyone else around, sweetheart.”

Dirk looked ready to protest again, but Roxy was already getting up. Rose was halfway out the door, tugging a still slightly bewildered Karkat behind her. Roxy rested her hand on Dirk’s shoulder for a moment as she passed. The three of them gathered out on the front porch, Roxy clicking the door shut behind her and immediately gluing herself to the window as best she could without totally giving away to either Dirk or Ray that she was absolutely watching. Like, she couldn’t help it, she was nosy by nature, but also she was just super worried about her poor cousin, this was gonna hurt like hell for him to learn about…

“What’s so important that we have to leave the room?” Karkat asked, and Rose and Roxy both shushed him at once.

“Remember how I mentioned yesterday on the way over that Dirk doesn’t know about Dave flatlining yet?” Roxy said, turning back to the window. Ray was sitting down next to Dirk, and it was a little tricky to see their faces from this angle, but Dirk mostly just looked amused if a little confused at the moment. Ray was talking really slowly and alternating between steady eye contact and looking hard at her own hands, which were fidgeting in her lap a whole bunch.

“Fuck, she’s just now telling him about that?!” Karkat said, and got two more shushes for his trouble. He seemed to get the message after that, at least, and switched to a whisper, which was still really loud but at least wouldn’t go through the damn door. “Fine, fine! I’m being quiet! But I don’t—how the fuck do you all just manage to keep something like that secret?! He almost died, and you’re all acting like nothing’s up!”

Roxy was watching Ray and Dirk, still—Dirk’s smile was starting to fall away, oh boy—but she could almost feel Rose’s eyes narrow at Karkat, oh geez.

“I know that this is a recent revelation for you,” said Rose, her voice calm in the way that back when she’d been in grade school had meant she was about to punch someone in the jaw, “But it’s been nearly two weeks since that happened. He’s going to be fine, so long as we tend to his wounds and he gets plenty of rest. There’s no point in working ourselves up into a frenzy over something that’s already been resolved. The only reason Mom is telling Dirk at all is because he’ll find out eventually, and she suspects he’s not going to take it well, so she wants to make sure he hears it as gently as possible.”

“Oh, and you did ‘take it well,’ is that what I’m supposed to assume?” Karkat snapped.

Rose snapped, too, but in a different way, sort of. She whirled on Karkat, practically baring her teeth, her face all snarled up like a wet cat.

“I heard it happen!” she hissed. Those were not words that are hiss-able, but she hissed them anyway, that was the only way to describe the venom in them. “I was sitting outside the damn room, I had to sit there and listen to him dying, don’t you dare tell me that I’m not reacting enough when I’ve been trying to keep myself from racing out of here right now to tear out that bastard’s throat with my own hands—“

“Guys, holy shit, shut up!” Roxy said, whipping around to face them. “Karkat, dude, my mom told you about why we’re staying calm in the car. I know you’re scared, but, listen, Dirk almost died out there too, and he’s always, y’know, blamed himself for Dave getting kidnapped in the first place for whatever dumb reason, so we all knew that this was gonna be extra rough for him, and that’s why Ray—aw, shit,” she said, catching a slight movement out of the corner of her eye and turning back just in time.

She could pick out the exact second Rachel must’ve broke it to him, because he instantly just froze right up. His face fell, just a little, the big dummy was still trying to stay stoic and keep it together, but she could see him crumbling under the weight of what he’d learned.

“Shit, yep, he’s not taking it well at all,” she said. “Aaaaugh, dammit, I should be there to hug on him—I know Ray knows what she’s doing, but, God, this hurts to watch.”

“You shouldn’t be watching it,” said Rose, even though she was pretty blatantly looking through the window too, now. Karkat spun around to look as well, and she saw his ears flick back and his face contort with all kinds of sympathy pains.

Dirk wasn’t doing a good job at hiding his thoughts at all, now. Ray was holding one of his hands tightly in both of hers, and as they watched, she reached out and held Dirk’s chin, still talking, but Dirk’s eyes were almost glazed over with a mixture of…God, shock, fear, pain, guilt, the whole works all bunched up in one big mound of awful. Roxy hadn’t seen the guy look that distraught since…God, probably the day Dave had been kidnapped, come to think of it. Probably already blaming himself all over again. Like a machine, he gently pushed Ray’s hand away from his face, and stumbled up onto his crutches, limping down the hall.

“Bet he’s goin’ to go talk to Dave,” said Roxy, shaking her head. “God, poor guy.”

Rose folded her hands and took a deep breath. She turned to Karkat, the anger completely gone from her eyes, and said, “The truth is, Karkat…none of us are taking this well.”

“It’s been far too long since I saw you last,” said Aunt Ramona, “I hardly recognize you, you’ve grown so much.”

Dave glanced down at himself. “Uh, yeah,” he said, “Yeah, it’s the growing that’s got me lookin’ different, sure,” he said with a bit of a forced grin. He actually really wished that Karkat coulda stayed, but, his aunt wanted to talk alone, sure, alright.

Something about her made him feel just the slightest bit nervous. It wasn’t like what he got usually with his nerves, it wasn’t that he felt like he was being watched, or like someone was gonna jump out at him from somewhere, it was more like…some instinct was telling him that this was someone he really didn’t wanna piss off. Like she could just wipe him off the face of the planet with a look if she really wanted. Which…hell, Mom had said she was a witch, maybe she could.

She didn’t seem like she wanted to, though. Mostly, she just seemed stiff; she’d had to sit down in the chair pulled up by the bed awkwardly, balancing her weight weird to keep it off one of her legs. So the cane wasn’t just for show, then. He could never be sure, with his fuckin’ dramatic-ass family, especially since this one wrote the weird wizard porn books, it’d be pretty fitting if she just had a big old cane just for the aesthetic.

It was definitely a witch aesthetic cane, that was for sure. Big old black thing, made of warped-looking wood that curved around itself. It’d pass for like, a fuckin’ wizard staff if it weren’t only cane-sized.

She chuckled at his half-assed joke, in any case. “The bruises don’t help matters, no.” Settling into the chair a bit more, she went on, “I hope settling back in hasn’t been too difficult, additional kidnappings and so on notwithstanding.”

“I mean, that’s kind of a big thing to be ignoring, but sure. It’s, uh…it’s not been easy, honestly, it’s just kind of…weird?” He swallowed. “I mean, honestly, I don’t remember a whole lot of living here.”

“But?” she said, apparently reading his damn mind. He hadn’t been planning on saying more out loud, but it kinda poured out all the sudden, like a faucet someone forgot to turn off and flooded the damn bathroom.

“But I mean, compared to where Bro wanted me to be and, uh, do, I do kinda…prefer it here. Like, it’s nice to not constantly have to be ready for a sneak attack, and not having to sleep propped up against the wall is rad, and I sure as shit don’t miss the Usuals, and…fuck, listen to me, Jesus, I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish as shit here, but—”

“I disagree,” said Aunt Ramona. “I think all of that is a perfectly reasonable way to feel.”

“Like, he still…raised me, and shit, though,” Dave said, weakly. The grain silo was trying to fit through the pinhole again. He really wished Karkat were here, God.

Aunt Ramona snorted. “I suppose I technically have to agree with that,” she said, “But he did a poor job of it. You turning out as well as you have is, I’m convinced, in spite of him, not because of him.”

Dave shrugged, helpless. He couldn’t come up with words to argue, he just…felt that what she was saying was incorrect, somehow. Some part of it shouted it at him, but couldn’t come up with an actual rebuttal. It tugged the opposite way of the Big Thought, though, and Dave still couldn’t make that one happen, so he’d follow whatever opposed it for now.

His aunt sighed. “It’s alright if you don’t agree with me,” she said. “I know you’re going to need time. Ten years is a long time to suffer what you have, and it’s going to take a long time to unravel it all. Still, even if you’re not ready to hear us being critical of your father, then I hope you’ll at least consider the idea that you are allowed to choose who you want to live with, where you want to be. That is not selfish, it’s your right as a human being, and one you’re very brave in this circumstance for seeking out.”

Dave was really starting to wonder if she couldn’t read minds, or something. He tried thinking some really good jokes to just to test if she was poking around in his brain, but after a good twenty seconds of her not so much as twitching a lip in response to his rapier wit, he decided that she either had a poker face to rival Bro’s, or his thoughts were safe and she was just, like, a really good guesser.

Hearing her say that he was brave for wanting to leave, though…He’d not thought he needed someone to say that, but boy, it turned out he sure the fuck did.

“I guess,” he said, turning away and rubbing the back of his head.

Ramona smiled, and stood with the same stiff effort it had taken her to sit down. She rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll leave you for a while,” she said. “I’ve still got some unpacking to do, and so on. But it’s been very good to see you again, even if it’s not under the best of circumstances.”

Dave nodded. God, this was like dealing with Mom all over again, except being around Mom was starting to feel less and less awkward even without memories from before Bro took him, whereas this was right back to zero. She had a relationship with him that he didn’t remember at all.

Still, she seemed pretty alright, on the whole. Little weird, but alright.

She stopped for a moment at the door, and then turned back.

“Your brother’s going to be here in a moment,” she said. “I know I hardly need to say so, but…be gentle with him.”

“Uh…sure,” said Dave. Well, that had been…weird.

Dirk stumbled in a little bit later, sure enough, his eyes sorta hazy-looking.

“Sup?” Dave asked. Dirk…didn’t answer. He just walked over and sat down on the bed, reaching to hug Dave from behind, and as he pressed his face into Dave’s shoulder, things clicked into place.

Dave reached his arm around to hug Dirk back as best he could, and said, “Mom told you, huh.”

Dirk’s only response was a quiet, horrified sob.

Sometime later, the whole family plus Karkat was out in the living room, chatting about all kinds of shit, Dave wasn’t really paying attention. The girls were all clustered together around the kitchen counter, in any case. Sounded like they were maybe talking about one of Aunt Ramona’s books, but Dave was more preoccupied with ignoring the movie Karkat had insisted on watching with Dave on his weird troll computer (and boy, it was weird to think he was just…allowed to do this now. No loopholes needed, he was allowed to just. Watch a movie on a computer. Could use the computer himself, if he wanted. No more house arrest, no more Bro ready to kick his ass for even thinking the word ‘internet,’ it was just…fine). Really, what Dave was doing was kind of…keeping half his mind on Dirk. Guy had taken the news real rough, and had been pretty much silent ever since he and Dave left Mom’s room.

Right now, he was typing on his laptop, looking exhausted and otherwise unreadable. Not in a Bro way, though. Fuck, even if it had  been in a Bro way, Dave didn’t think he could be scared of Dirk, not after how scared Dirk had sounded. It was unreadable in more of a ‘straight up too worn out to experience any one whole emotion’ sorta way, which Bro definitely never had.

Dave wasn’t the only one paying attention to Dirk, either; Karkat was pretty equally distracted. He wanted to say something, it seemed like. After, like, half an hour of neither of them watching the damn movie, Dave rolled his eyes and nudged Karkat with an elbow.

“Dude, just talk to him if you got something to say,” he said, “I swear to fuck he’s not gonna bite.”

Karkat groaned, and paused the movie. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “I almost wish he would, it’d make this less embarrassing, but…fuck it, time to apologize for past me being a dumbass, I guess.”

Dirk looked up from whatever he was up to, one eyebrow raised. Karkat pressed his hands together, and took a deep breath. “Okay, so,” he said, “I…said some really fucking stupid shit, back when we first met.”

Before he could finish that thought, Dirk snorted. “Fuck, is this about the shit we said all the way back in Terezi’s apartment?”

Dave looked between the two of them, confused.

“Yeah, it is,” Karkat said. “Specifically, the part where I made a lot of stupid assumptions and shoved my foot down my gullet so far as to be able to shit toes before the digestion process has even had a chance to begin. It was stupid. I was stupid, and I’m sorry for having implied back then that you were in any way planning on bringing any harm to a guy that I now recognize you care about at least as much as I do.”

Dave snickered, and poked Karkat in the ribs. “Aww, you were worried about me all the way back then?”

“Fuck OFF, Dave!” Karkat snapped, accidentally drawing the attention of the girls. As he realized this, he got flustered, his ears flicked back, and he coughed into his hand. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is, that, just, look, you were right, this is where he belongs and I’m a dumbass and I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

“Glad to know it took this long to change your mind,” Dirk said.

“Dude,” said Dave, shooting him a look. Dirk looked up and heaved a sigh.

“I mean, if we’re both being honest,” he said, “I could’ve handled it a lot better, too. I didn’t really try to explain my position much. Of course you didn’t get it, you didn’t have the context.”

“I think I do now, though,” said Karkat, “and, yeah. You were right.”

“It probably was for the best that you didn’t come around right away,” Dirk said, turning back to his typing. “God knows, we’d be fucked over ten ways to hell if you hadn’t come here. We all needed some help to get this shit sorted out. Fuck, we still don’t really have any idea what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, you were also right about this family being a fucking mess.”

Small bits of stifled laughter split from several members of the family. Dave spotted Rose rolling her eyes, albeit very fondly. Dave felt his own laughter die down pretty quickly, though, his own brain apparently determined to make sure he wasn’t allowed to be happy for five goddamn minutes until he dealt with…the shit he was trying not to think about.

“I dunno if I do belong here, honestly,” Dave muttered. A whole lotta worried looks turned his way, and he held his hands up. Shit, he shouldn’t have said that out loud. “I mean, like, I don’t…I dunno if I belong anywhere, I…I like it here, and I wanna be here, and I really am not planning on trying to leave again, I just…” He shrugged. “I still feel like, I dunno, like he’s…like I shoulda tried harder, I guess? Since we’re…” Dirk had that look like he was gonna start a fight, and fuck that, time to pull another excuse out of his ass, uh… “I guess I also feel like I’m letting our uncle down by not…y’know, looking after his brother, I guess.”

The least his brain could do if it was gonna keep being weird about this shit was come up with words he could use to argue instead of shouting ‘no’ and sitting in the corner like the world’s most petulant toddler.

Ramona…paused. For a moment, there was a flash of almost relief in her eyes, like she’d been waiting for something. He’d been really expecting to be told a bunch that yes, this was where he belonged, and he’d have to nod along while his brain screamed, but instead, Ramona said, “So Derek did tell you about your namesake, then? I wasn’t sure if he would tell you anything. He so rarely talked about his brother after we…lost him.”

Dave shrugged. “I mean, I heard a lot just kinda in bits and pieces from him talking to Ben? Uh, Ben’s the one who told me the actual story, so.”

“What was it that they told you, exactly?” Aunt Ramona asked. Her voice was still light and casual, but there was a look to her eyes, almost like she already knew what the answer and just wanted to confirm it. Something about the look made Dave feel a little uneasy, which…was dumb, there was nothing to be nervous about, right? He’d never even had a test in a school, he’d missed that shit entirely, but he felt like this was what being put on the spot for a pop quiz in front of the whole class had to feel like.

“Well, uh, just the basics, I guess,” he said. “Ben told me about, uh, how he and Bro were, uh, partners, and how, y’know, went down fighting as the big hero and shit—“ and Mom drew a sudden harsh intake of breath and mumbled under her breath in Spanish, making something drop out from under Dave just enough that he stammered ever so slightly, “A-and that he and Br-he and Dad were real close.”

Ramona’s face was real serious now, but not surprised at all. Mom, on the other hand, seemed halfway shocked, the other half maybe disappointed, maybe furious. She had her face in one hand, shaking her head, as she said, “Derek, God damn it…”

Rose and Dirk turned towards each other, eyebrows raised in mutual confusion. Roxy pretty visibly had no idea what they were talking about.

“Is that…” Dave swallowed, hard. “Is that wrong?”

“Well, I suppose you could technically say that he went down fighting,” Ramona said, “But it really wasn’t much of a fight at all. It sounds, to be frank, like what you’ve been told is a mixture of half-truths, careful omissions, and outright lies.”

He had to actually reach his hand down to make sure the couch was still there. The floor just kept finding new ways to drop away from him.  

What the fuck. What…but why would Bro lie about—what?

Mom stood up, real sudden. “I can’t—I can’t be here for this,” she said, shaking her head more. “Ramona, I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with this, can you…?”

Aunt Ramona nodded. She really did seem like she knew this was gonna go down this way, somehow…“I didn’t expect you to. It’s quite alright, I’ll tell them.”

“Mhm,” Rachel said, and walked quickly down the hall, pausing only to hug Dave tightly in passing. Karkat gently reached out for Dave’s hand once she’d left, shooting him a look of concern.

Something was…building up in him, threatening to break, just from the idea that they’d lied about…It wasn’t a good feeling. It was hot, and sticky, and he tried to force it down, and succeeded for now, but boy, was that shit ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. But…but he couldn’t not hear the rest, now, he had to know. He stayed seated as his aunt limped over to one of the couches, seating herself with some effort next to Dirk, across from Dave and Karkat.

Dirk, seeming very confused, spoke up. “I mean, what little Mom said about our uncle seemed to match up with what Dave just said…? I kinda got the same impression, what are we missing here?”

Ramona settled herself more comfortably, leaning forward just a touch. “A great deal, I’m afraid,” she said. “This is, obviously, not a happy story, but it’s one you all deserve to know. These events, the invasion you were all born during and scarcely remember, should not be your burden to bear, but since your father especially, and, if we are honest, your mother and I as well, have made such long habit of trying to live in that past, you at the very least deserve to know the start of this conflict you’ve all been drawn into.

As such, I’ll start at the beginning…”